heard it speak to him when he leaned his head against the gray trunk.
You were only a boy before; now you’re a man who understands you must take action against the cruelty in the world.
Samuel was fortunate to have a sailor’s knowledge and skills other men might not have. He had circumvented bad fortune dozens of times, so many that the lines on his left hand were a jumble, all possible fates he had managed to avoid. He wondered if he’d brought the tree to speak not to Maria but to himself, to give him courage and remind him of who he was, a man ruled by love. Morning was about to break. It was certainly not a day to die, but rather a time to rejoice in the beauty of the world. He rode through the grassy fields in the dark, to the hill near town that was deserted, except for the birds waking in the bushes. This is where the gallows had been built. He tied his horse to a tree at the edge of the woods. The grass was damp and he was still unaccustomed to being on earth rather than at sea; he walked with a rolling gait, as if the ocean was below him rather than the black earth of Essex County. Over one shoulder he carried a leather satchel that was stained with salt. He had a grin on his face despite the circumstances. Inside the bag was the one thing that could set Maria Owens free.
* * *
A woman who went to the gallows must be barefoot. She was to walk through town in iron chains, and then be taken up the hill in a cart drawn by oxen. There were horse pastures on either side, for all the trees had been chopped down, and groves of locusts would be planted here when at last men realized only fools cut down nearly every tree, except for the few where boys sat in the branches waiting for the gory event to occur. Maria wore a long white shift and nothing more. She was not allowed the comforts of this world, for she would next be judged in the hereafter, and here on earth she was beyond all help. She had been found guilty of witchery, of conversing with spirits, of evil deeds done for her benefit and the benefit of Satan. The old magistrate came to her and told her to list her sins, and repeat her conversations with the devil, and she would not do so. When he made his report to the court, John Hathorne asked for a chance to speak to the witch. He was a learned man, from a well-respected family, and so the court agreed. Hathorne stood outside her cell, and called for the jailor to leave them alone.
“Have you come to free me?” Maria asked.
She sat on the floor, for there was no bed, although Lydia Colson had brought her a woolen blanket.
“Tell them what they want to hear,” John Hathorne said. “Confess you have worked with the devil. I’ll help you leave here.”
“With false gems?” How could it be that he seemed a complete stranger to her?
“With silver and a wagon to take you to Boston or New York. I can keep the girl.”
Maria rose to her feet. She could feel something flicker inside her, despite her iron chains.
“I’ve discussed it with my wife,” Hathorne went on. “We’ve agreed this is the right course. We’ll take the child and treat her as if she were our own.”
“She is your own. But you will never have her.”
He backed off, seeing the fever in Maria’s eyes. “Then take her with you when you leave this place if that’s what you wish. Just sign a confession.”
“I confess that I was a fool and a young girl who knew nothing. But what is your excuse?”
“You refuse my help?”
“Unlike you, I am not a liar. I have nothing to confess. Not even who the father of my child might be.”
Hathorne bowed his head and wished the world were a different place. But it was not. There were no turtles in the sea, no courtyard filled with Jamaican apple trees. He stepped outside, where the jailor was dozing on a bench. The air was bright and the day was blue. A man had no choice but to live in the world he was granted.
“Go forward,” Hathorne told the jailor before he walked home to Washington Street, where the black leaves were falling, and