There had to be more than a hundred and fifty Quakers crammed into the meetinghouse, and even more people waiting outside. If they decided I was to be imprisoned, or even hanged tonight, escape would be highly improbable. Yet Henry had come armed with a pistol, ready to protect me. Maybe he counted on the fact that Quakers were pacifists, or that I had enough allies among the crowd to ensure we could get away. Looking at him now, I knew he could save my life again if called upon.
As the silence stretched on, my thoughts turned to my father. He had sincerely hoped that Nathan would give up, yet his last words seemed to have been tailored for just this occasion.
True strength comes when you learn to fear no one but God.
Recalling our last moments together, I could almost hear my father’s voice again, his belief that I was strong enough to endure whatever lay ahead. More than forty years had passed since a false charge of sedition had driven him from Ireland with a price on his head. Only seventeen years old, my father had lost everything—family, home and wealth. Yet he had borne these trials, making a new life for himself in the Colonies.
Brigid had also glimpsed my fear of Nathan and, like my father, had tried to help me see beyond it.
These people may have the power to destroy your body, but only you can destroy your soul.
At the time, I had found little comfort in Brigid’s counsel. Only now, on the verge of being publicly denounced, did her meaning become clear. By following my first instinct to run away, I would have certainly saved my body from physical harm, but not without great injury to my soul. Nathan could rant and rave for all he was worth—I would endure just like my father and countless other ancestors. These thoughts were like a revelation, a gift at this most difficult hour. My body stopped shaking as the fear faded away, replaced with a simmering anger. Sitting up a little straighter, I lifted my chin, ready to begin.
Near the appointed hour, Nathan opened his eyes and stared out at the large crowd. No emotion crossed his face at the sheer number of people packed into the meetinghouse. He slowly circled the room with his gaze, starting with the men and moving around to the women. Occasionally he stopped to stare at someone, just long enough to make the person squirm before moving on. He tried this same trick on me, but I met his stare without the slightest hesitation. When I refused to tremble or look away, he gave up and moved on to another woman seated further down the row.
Like an ominous fog, his presence settled over the crowd. He stood and I saw that Anne was right, he did look much altered, even from a week before. He had lost another half a stone at least and dark shadows stood out beneath his eyes. But any sign of weakness faded the moment he started to speak.
“Deny not the spirit of truth!” his voice thundered out over the hall. Several members flinched back, caught unaware. “Deny not the voice of warning! By the power of God, I have seen the witch! By His will, I have seen the Devil’s mark on her body!”
Oh, please! I thought angrily. A pox on your lying tongue!
Everyone stared at Nathan so intently I could have thrown one of my shoes at him without being noticed. Sorely tempted, I began to pluck at my gown when Anne reached over and took my other hand, pressing it gently in her own.
Nathan’s eyes sparked, and his body quivered with excitement. “My friends, the spirit calls me to testify, to expose a viper nesting amongst us.” No longer roaring like a man possessed, he now spoke in a clear, measured voice with only the slightest hint of a tremor. “In vision, I was brought to a dark road where I found a young woman kneeling at the base of an oak tree. Though she kept her face hidden from view, I sensed something familiar and tried to call out. But the spirit sealed my voice, forced me to watch in silence as the woman delved a hand into the earth and drew forth a long black serpent. It slithered up the length of her arm, encircling her white flesh like an exotic bangle.” He thrust his own arm into the air for all to see the imaginary snake. A look of disgust washed over his face, and fisting his hand, he let it fall back to his side.
“Thus adorned,” he said scornfully, “the woman rose and started to walk along the road. The spirit bid me follow and we soon came upon a man who suffered from a great thirst and begged a drink of water. A wooden cup appeared in the woman’s hand, and the man drank deeply, grateful for her kindness. As the last drop passed his lips, he began to choke and claw at his throat.” Nathan grimaced at the memory and slowly shook his head. “The spirit stayed my hand, and the man fell to the ground, drowned by a single cup of water.”
I stole a furtive glance around the room, distraught by how enraptured the people were—each man, woman and child old enough to understand, hung on his every word.