Betrayer.. Part 3

Part 3

Halfway out the door Jane turned, her blue eyes flashing, an impatient frown on her face. "Are you going out with your head uncovered?" Martha Master's demanded. "Where are your thoughts, dear?"

"I am sorry." Jane returned to the room,her white cap from it's peg, and pulled it down over her hair. "I will hurry back," she said.

She closed the door behind her and, shielding her eyes with one hand from the bright afternoon sunlight, made her way past the chickens pecking her dirt in front of the house.

Jane turned onto the path that led into the village. Walking quickly, her long skirt trailing over the dirt, she passed the Halseys' house. The glass for their windows hadn't yet arrived from England, Jane saw. The windows were boarded up. Mr. Halsey was bent over his vegetable garden and didn't look up.

At the meetinghouse she saw someone up the shingle roof working to attach a brass weather vane above the chimney.

The village magistrate, Paul Fier, a troubled expression on his face, was just entering the building. Jane stopped short and waiting until he had dissappeared inside. A cold shudder ran down her back as she though of Abigail Hopping.

I know Paul Fier is a good righteous man, Jane thought. But I am afraid of him, just as everyone else in Wickham is.

As village magistrate, Paul Fier was the most powerful man in Wickham. He was also the wealthiest. His home, the biggest in the village, stood across from the meetinghouse. The aroma of roasting beaf wafted out from the summer kitchen as Jane strode past.

The Fiers are so prosperous, Jane thought unable to suppress a feeling of envy. They won't be having biscuts and gravy for their dinner. THe Fiers can have roasted meat every night.

Jane knew that the Fier brothers, Paul and Matthew, were the most properous men in Wickham because they were the most worthy. Since she had been a little girl, she's been taught that good fortune goes to those who are the most righteous.

Thus, Paul Fier became magistrate because he was the wasest, most pious man in the village. It was he who conducted the witchcraft trials. And he who insisted the guilty ones be burned- rather than hanged as they were elsewhere in Massachusetts. Paul's younger brother Matthew had a farm that prospered when others failed because Matthew Fier was more righteous and faithful than the other farmers.

That was plain and simple knowledge..

As she passed the meetinghouse and glanced toward the commons, Jane found herself thinking about Paul's song. Edward Fier. Edward, where are you? Are you thinking about me?

"Oh!" she cried as she stumbled over an enormus pink pig spotted with black, and went sprawling onto the hard ground.

The pig grunted a loud protest and scrambled off the path.

Jane picked herself up and brushed the dust off the front of her white apron. That will teach me not to have improper thoughs, she scolded herself, straightening her cap over her hair.

But how can thoughts about Edward be improper?

She saw her father at the far end of the commons, the large, rectangular, pasture in the center of the village. He was busily raking a section of fround and didn't see Jane wave to him.

Mr.Franklin, the blacksmith, was at is anvil front of his shop, pounding noisily on a sheet of tin as Jane hurried past. She smiled at Franklin's apprentice, a boy named Arthur Kent, who was tending the bellows, which were nearly twice as big as he was.

Behind the blacksmith's shop were the shimmering green woods. Tall poplars and beech trees leaned in toward the village. Behind these the woods grew dark with pines, oaks, and maples.

A village woodpile stood at the edge of the woords, logs neatly chopped and stacked. But Jane's eyes were focused on the woods.

Sunlight filtered down theough the shimmering leaves, sending rays of light darting over the ground. Black and gold monarch butterflies fluttered in and out of the shafts of white light.

I shall take a short walk into the woords, Jane decided.

It felt good to be out of the dark house, away from the heat of the cooking hearth, away from the crying baby.

Away from her chores and the watchful eyes of her mother.

Away from the heavy fear that hovered over the entire village these days.

Jane stepped into the woords, dry twigs cracking beneath her heavy black shoes. As soon as she was hidden by the trees, she pulled off her cap and shook her hair free.

She walked slowly, raising her face to the shafts of bright sunlight. Her dress caught on a low bramble. She tugged it free and kept walking.

A scrabbling sound nearby made her spin around. just in time to see a brown and white chipmunk scurry under a pile of dead leaves.

Jane tossed her long hair back and took a deep beath. The air smelled piney and sweet.

I'm not surprised to enjoy the woods, she thought, her smile slowiy fading. Jane had been taught that the woods were a place of evil.

As if mirroring her thoughts, the trees grew thicker, shutting out the sunlight. It became evening-dark.

Away from cizilization, deep in the woods, was where the Evil One and his followers dwelt, Jane had been taught.

The witches of the village came here to dance their evil dances by moonlight with the Evil One and his servants. The Evil One and his servants lived deep in holes in the ground, hidden by scrub and thick scrubs, Jane believed that if she wandered alone into the darkness of their domain, they might reach up and grab her down, down into their netherworld of eternal torture and darkness.

The air grew cooler. From a low branch just above Jane's head a dove uttered a deep-throated moan, cold and sorrowful.

Jane shuddered.. "It is so dark, suddenly so cold," she said.

Time to go back.

As she turned, she felt strong hands grab her from behind....

"The EVIL ONE!!" she cried.