“I told you then and I will tell you now, Samuel. It goes against the witch’s oath to use her powers for personal gain or wrongdoing. The line between dark and light is thin and we have all heard what happens to those who confuse the two.”
“Indeed,” Samuel answered, raising an eyebrow at her mischievously. “Those witches become infamous. And so will I once all this is over.”
Bridget was getting ready to argue with him when half a dozen guards entered the small corridor outside her chamber and gestured to Samuel that it was time for him to leave. He nodded in assent and then turned back once more to look at her.
She thought he might be remorseful after so many years of working beside her, but she discerned nothing. Which was what Bridget was beginning to feel.
Nothing.
“I truly wish it did not have to end like this, Bridget,” he said. To the guards it probably sounded like a good-bye, but she knew better. Samuel meant it as a justification of his despicable actions. And whether he was being genuine or just saying it because they had an audience didn’t really matter. The truth was, there was nothing anyone could do for her now. Her time was up.
But things were far from being over. Samuel may have bound her powers, making it impossible for her to get out of her chains, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have abilities that she could still use.
She needed to reach her daughter.
Bridget had begged Christian to stay home that day so she wouldn’t have to witness her own mother’s execution. Which meant Bridget couldn’t warn her face-to-face about Samuel’s plan. Instead, Bridget fell back on one of her oldest skills.
My darling, are you there?
Bridget sent the message from her mind to her daughter’s, much like she used to when Christian was a child. She had used this particular gift when trying to teach Christian how to listen to her conscience growing up. But it had promptly backfired when Christian’s friends told her that they didn’t actually hear the voice of their conscience in their heads. When her daughter figured out that it was her, Christian forbade Bridget to use the powers again unless Christian initiated it.
Given the current circumstances, however, Bridget decided that Christian would forgive her this time.
I am here, Mother. Are you all right? What is happening?
Bridget winced at the pain she could feel in her daughter’s voice. She knew that her death would weigh heavily on her only child, and now she had to admit that the only family Christian would have left might be working against her. This made Bridget feel even worse about leaving. Bridget tried to clear her mind so none of her anxiety would transfer to her daughter.
Everything is fine, child. I have had several visitors today and some lovely conversation. Her white lies hardly mattered now. There is something I need to talk to you about and I do not have much time…
Yes, Mama?
There is a traitor among the coven. Reverend Parris is not your friend. He is hungry for power and will do anything to attain it. He is the one who divulged the names of our sister witches. I am not sure whether he will come after you and the rest of the Cleri, but you must get away from him in order to stand any chance of survival.
There was a pause on Christian’s end and Bridget could tell that she was trying to make sense of what her mother had said. Finally, she responded.
I understand. Do I have time to tell the others?
I am not sure who can be trusted. It is probably best if you just leave quietly and without notice.
Okay. I will gather my things right away. Where am I to go? Christian was asking this more to herself than to her mother, but Bridget had an answer.
Do you remember where we spent our summers when you were little? Go there. Nobody knows about the cabin, which means they should not be able to find you. Go there, hide, and be safe, my child.
Bridget could sense the pain her daughter was feeling as if it were her own heart breaking. Perhaps it was just as well that Christian had forbidden her from entering her mind. Sometimes it was simply too overwhelming to feel another’s emotions.
“It is time, Goodwife Bishop,” one of the guards said, appearing in the doorway after escorting Samuel out of the dungeon and unlocking her cell door. She noticed that he said it as if they were heading out for a walk, not off to her execution.
Bridget nodded and walked over to meet the guard at the door. She held out her hands, hoping they’d take off her shackles and give her one last chance to save herself. But her luck had run out. The man took hold of her arms and began to pull her to the front of the building. She didn’t put up a fight. Instead, she spent her last living moments saying her good-byes.
They are calling me now, Christian. It is my wish that you go right away and do everything you can to live a safe and happy life. But promise me this: if they do find you… fight them. Fight for me. I love you to eternity, darling. I will always be with you.
I love you, too, Mother. Bridget could sense that her daughter was weeping uncontrollably now, and she had to pull away before Christian could experience what was about to happen to her.
By this time, the guard had already led her outside and through the square to the large wooden structure, standing high above the hundreds of townspeople who’d gathered on Gallows Hill to watch. Bridget kept her head down as she moved through the crowd, being careful not to trip while making her way up the crudely constructed stairs. Bridget knew people hadn’t expected that the law would carry out its chosen form of justice so swiftly, but here she was.
A big black X was painted across the boards and she took her place on top of the dark lines. Lifting her bare feet, she examined with curiosity the black marks that now decorated them. When she finally looked up at the audience that had congregated in front of her, she saw a mix of friends and enemies. On some faces there was sadness, even a few tears rolling down dirty cheeks. There were more, though, who looked smug, even pleased, to see her up there.
This is what fear does to people, she thought. Bridget knew these bystanders weren’t at fault, not directly anyway. The person responsible for these horrific trials was another witch, same as her. Samuel Parris. All because she wasn’t willing to use her magic in the ways he wanted.
The sheriff slipped the noose around Bridget’s neck and tightened it until it began to make breathing difficult. Still, she kept her chin up and refused to cry.
“Do you have any final words, Witch Bishop?” he asked her.
Bridget swallowed hard and hoped that her voice would remain strong. “Just that I am as innocent as the child unborn,” she addressed the crowd loudly. “I have made no contact with the Devil. I have never seen him before in my life. I am innocent.”
Hushed conversations began all around her and she could hear a few people begin to object, but the hood was already being thrown over her head, blocking out any chance to see who was saying what.
“My allegiance is with my maker and even in death I will always do thy will.” The prayer was barely above a whisper, but it filled her with a calmness she hadn’t felt since before she’d been arrested. “Goodness will always prevail and evil will be punished. As God is my witness I will make sure of that.”