In her seat, Ann was trembling too, I noticed.
The judge entered, and everyone stood. I wasn’t sure if I was expected to stand, since I had just been ordered to sit. However, the jailer helpfully yanked me up.
“Hear ye! Hear ye!” a man I did not know called as the judge walked down the aisle. “By the will of God, this court is now in order!”
We stood while the judge said a prayer in a booming voice. I felt eyes upon me, perhaps to see if I flinched at the word of God. I did not. When Judge Hathorne finished, the jailer forced me down to sitting again.
“Who is here to witness against this woman?” Judge Hathorne asked.
Thomas Putnam stood. “My daughter, Ann.”
“She must approach the bench, then,” Judge Hathorne said. “And she must speak for herself.”
Ann stood. She looked smaller than when last I had seen her, thinner and paler. I wondered if she had been ill. Or was it the weight of her lies that made her appear so sickly and trembling? I had seen her many times over the year I had lived in Salem, a boisterous girl, full of humor and mischief. I remembered one day when I had seen her lift her younger sister up to look at a bird’s nest in a tree. The Ann who walked to the front of the room looked like she could barely have lifted a feather.
As if to confirm this impression, Ann fairly fell into the seat beside the judge. When he spoke, his voice was half as loud, as if he did not wish to frighten her.
“You are here to give testimony in this case?” he asked.
“Aye, sir.” Her voice was barely a breath of wind.
“You must speak clearly, girl,” he said.
“Aye.” Ann said in a proper whisper.
The other man approached her. He carried a Bible and held it before her. He placed her hand upon it. “Do you swear to tell the truth in all matters, so help you, God?”
“Aye,” Ann repeated.
The judge addressed her. “You are acquainted with Kendra Hilferty?”
Ann nodded. “Aye.”
“You see her here?”
“Aye.” She searched for me. I did not know where to look, whether to meet her eyes, try to make her understand I meant her no harm. I would tell no one what I had seen if she would just let me go. In truth, I had already determined to leave Salem if released. It would not be the first time I had fled a place, and it would likely not be the last. But what if, by looking at her, I made people think I had enchanted her? I decided to stare at my hands. They were startlingly light for not having seen sun in months. I stretched out my fingers in my lap. Out of the tops of my eyes, I noticed that Ann did the same.
“What have you to say about her?” the judge asked.
“Oh, your honor,” Ann began. “It has been awful. Since Kendra came to this town, I have had so much pain, so much torment at her hands. I do not know why she torments me so.”
I stole a glance up at her just as Judge Hathorne asked, “How does she torment you?”
“She clutches at my throat, so that I cannot breathe, and she causes me great pains in my stomach, and—ouch!” She clutched herself as if she felt a great pain. “She is doing it now! She is looking at me, and making me—ouch!” She gripped herself harder.
Judge Hathorne addressed me. “Why do you do this to her?”
“I am doing nothing!” I cried out, spreading my hands to indicate there was nothing there.
“I am doing nothing!” Ann cried out after me, also spreading her hands.
“Do not do that!” I cried, clenching my fists.
“Do not do that!” Ann cried, clenching hers.
Was she trying to pretend I controlled her movements? Truly? All eyes were upon me now, and I was near tears.
“Ann, please! I bear you no ill will.”
“Ann, please! I bear you no ill will.” As she said it, we both held out our hands, pleading.
“How are you controlling her?” Judge Hathorne asked. “What devilment are you using on her?”
“None! None!” I gasped. Sweat poured from my forehead and soaked through my dress.
“None! None!” Ann’s voice was a pale echo of my own.
I was silent then, shaking, and so was Ann. I was not controlling her movements, but, I realized, I could, if she wished to play at that game.
I stared at her, suddenly feeling cool and calm.
She stared back.
My witchcraft was my friend, my only friend. I could summon it to help me. I would. I did.
Suddenly Ann burst out, saying, “I am a liar!”
I said nothing. I looked, as anyone in that situation would, surprised.
“What?” Judge Hathorne asked.
“I am a liar!” Ann repeated. “My accusations are lies. I am pretending at my affliction. I am a scared little girl who—”
She stopped, midsentence. I had meant to have her say that she consorted with familiars, that she ran with wolves, that she was afraid I would tell on her, but it was as if someone held an invisible hand over her mouth. I saw her lips trying to move, but they did not. She breathed frantically through her nostrils, loudly enough for me to hear in my seat.