Monday, America Roberts and August came with me to town, after she had helped me dress and hide my missing hair with a lacy cap. She put my bonnet on but I could not stand for it to be tied against the raw red skin under my chin and neck so I tied it loosely as some wore for style, and hoped it not too brazen. I was dressed as if in mourning except for the white cockade at my throat.
On the way there, August tried to convince me things would turn out for the best, but when I walked into the town hall I thought I should faint. I kept my eyes on the floor until I heard them read a statement that included my name. Then I looked about. I saw Serenity and Wallace Spencer, clothed in new luxury, matching brown silks with gold embroidery. Lady Spencer accompanied them, too, seated on the front row of benches before the table of judges. I turned away. I must look a drab old crow. I touched my bonnet. I had not powdered my face except to hide the red of my forehead, for I knew that I might be moved to tears in this procedure, and that would leave streaks that could not be explained. I must seem a horror, I thought.
I sat between August and America, who patted my arm and tenderly held my hands as if she must have sensed they felt burned and painful, though I wore gloves. Another man rose and read another statement. My head spun. I held August’s arm so that at one point he patted my hand but loosened my grip. He smiled when I complied. I tried to return it, but I doubt that I succeeded. Before me sat men in long wigs and black robes, making judgment against me and my household for all time, I feared. Such gloom took me as I had never before known. I saw my poor hurting babe, first, then thought of all my children, even the ones long in their graves. I wept, thinking of Cullah. August shook my arm. “Listen,” he whispered. “You must listen.”
Serenity moved to a chair in the center of the opening between the magistrates’ table and the bar that separated them from the rest of the people. She acted as if it were difficult to stay conscious, and patted herself, fanned herself, though it was so cold our breaths bathed the room with a foggy softness.
When the magistrate prompted her again, Serenity said, “I had gone to call upon Goody Mackle-man, there, as a kindness and courtesy, although it was beneath me to do it. The minute I came through the door she hurled such curses and threats at me as to nearly cause a lady of my gentle upbringing to succumb. She might have even tried to cast a spell upon me, I do not know, for I have no knowledge of that sort of devilment, being a God-fearing wife and mother. She then began to cast apples at me, crashing my mouth and face. She bruised me and caused blood to cascade down my gown. This tooth, here”—she pointed—“is chipped now. If you don’t hang that woman you must at least run her from the town. Tarred and feathered. Yes. Send her from the town and confiscate her property.” She nodded at Wallace after saying that, smiled, then resumed a somber face.
One of the magistrates seemed to be staring, not at her but at August. I whispered to him, “Will I get to tell them the true incident?”
“Just wait,” he replied.
The first man spoke again. Now I saw he was the lawyer representing Serenity. He reiterated everything she said. I winced as the magistrates nodded as if it were the truest case they had ever heard. The second man rose again and made different remarks sounding more as if I had been wronged and acted on impulse. “Who is he?” I asked August.
“Your lawyer.”
“Did you hire him?”
He turned to me, cutting his eyes at an angle. “No,” he mouthed.
“Who, then?”
“Sh-sh.”
One of the magistrates crooked a finger at me. “Goodwife MacLammond, is it? Yes, Goodwife. Please come and sit in the witness chair.”
August led me to the seat, still warm from Serenity’s broad beam. “Yes, your lordship?” I said.
“We are not lords. You will address this assembly as ‘Your Honors’ or ‘Honorable Sirs.’ Now, please answer to this assembly. First, what church do you attend?”
“First Church, Your Honors.”
“And do you tithe?”
“When there is coin coming in, Your Honors, but sometimes my husband and I have been paid in sacks of grain or lambs. It is not always perfectly divisible; I cannot divide a single lamb, but make effort to account fairly, with some to the poor fund.”