it was who had opened the door.
I turned toward her. Now, of a truth, I am not overly large. But, with a stout leather jacket on, my sword by my side, and heavy boots on my legs, I did look big to the good dame’s eyes. Yet I stood not so much over six feet, when in my woolen hose, and, in girth, full many a comrade, of times past, whose body rests beneath the bogs of Sedgemoor, in Somersetshire, was larger. Yet, in all modesty do I say it, there were none who were of greater strength in shoulders or arms, and that, with a wiry and supple wrist, stood me in good stead at sword play.
“Neither Goliath nor a Philistine am I,” was my answer, while I let the genial warmth get nearer to my bones as I cast hat and jacket into a corner, “but an Essex man by birth and breed. But, mark you, Mistress,” I went on, “if I do not get a mug of ale, and a bit of roast beef soon, I will be nothing at all, for I lost my road early this morn, and no bite nor sup has passed my lips since. Thus I am half starved. So bustle about----”
“Aye, ‘bustle about’ it is,” answered she, repeating my words, though in no great anger. “Bustle about is all I’ve done since sunrise. What with Willis away all day, attending on Dr. Clarke; with the snow, and only one serving man, I have scarce time to----”
“Peace,” said I, for I never loved a woman’s tongue when it ran in that strain, “peace, and bring the ale and beef. You may talk afterward if you like. I can listen better then.”
Mistress Willis looked at me a minute, as if she would reply, but she came to another conclusion, ceased her clatter, and bustled about to such good advantage that she soon had on the table a plate of smoking hot beef, and some cakes of yellow corn meal, with pats of golden butter. There was also a stone mug of good ale. I gulped down a big drink of it, and, when the flavor of it had mellowed me, and the warmth gone clear down to my toes, I did drink again, this time to the health of Mistress Willis. For, though I like not a woman’s tongue when they talk over much, I know the value of being in their good graces. And so I ate and drank, and ate again, until I felt the cold leave me, and the memory of the biting wind and driving snow of an hour before was forgotten. I leaned back in my chair, and looked all about me, while the fire in the big chimney place flickered and spluttered; the hickory logs smelling like sweet nuts, and cracking with the heat, as a teamster snaps his whip on a frosty morning.
I let my eyes take in the room, with the oak beams overhead, blackened by smoke, the heavy tables and chairs, and the clean sanded floor. It was getting on toward night now, and the wind had died out. I was alone in the room, but I could hear Mistress Willis walking about in the apartment overhead, and giving some orders to the servant. I rose from my chair somewhat wearied, wishing that the inn keeper would return, so that I might meet him, and seek my bed. I walked to the window, noting that the moon had risen, and that the snow had ceased. As I looked through the casement I started, and doubted whether my eyes beheld aright, for I saw a sight of more than passing strangeness, and one that, for a time, struck terror to my heart.
The snow, which had been as white as a fleecy cloud, was now as red as blood beneath the silver moon!
At the same time I saw, coming toward the inn, at top speed, three men who ran on, never once halting to glance behind them.
CHAPTER II.
OF THE SCARLET SNOW.
There was a clatter on the stairs as Mistress Willis came down, her face white as the snow had been. She saw the red mantle from an upper window, and came to stand beside me, with fright in her eyes.
Together we watched the three figures, her breath coming like that of one who had run far, her heart thumping against her ribs. For myself, the first start over, I recalled that once before I had seen snow like that. Learned men said small Arctic plants in floating clouds, or tiny insects, had dyed the white flakes crimson. Yet in the town of Salem, that night, that a red shadow of doom portended, was the dread in every heart.
Nearer and nearer came the three men. Their boots cast up the snow, blood red on top and white beneath, so that their path was marked like a pale streak of dawn athwart a morning sky. They reached the inn door, and burst into the room scarce stopping to raise the latch. The shorter of the three, whom I took to be Master Willis, by reason of his good-natured face, from which even fear had not chased all the jollity, cried out:
“Oh, Lord, deliver us! ’Tis the snow of blood, and the witches of the air have sent it upon us. Of a truth they be demons of darkness; those who will be on trial to-morrow,” and he fell to murmuring a psalm tune in a high pitched, quavering voice, crowding the while into the chimney corner, where he could not see the red snow.
Now I was sore puzzled by all that had happened, although I set but small store by the crimson flakes. The talk of demons of darkness, and witches of the air, came with an odd sound to my ears. The more so as I had heard that these New Englanders were a plain, practical people, much given to prayers and pious works. To hear Master Willis prate of mysterious beings, then, made me wonder what had come to pass. The three men, and the wife of Willis, were huddled together now, one of them occasionally glancing with awestruck eyes out of the window.
“There is one comfort, though,” muttered the inn keeper, “the witches will be no more after to-morrow, as their trial is set for then, and there will be a short shrift, when once the honorable judges have passed sentence.”
“ ’Tis none too soon,” put in Mistress Willis. “Had the doers of witchcraft been hung or burned to-day, this evil would not have fallen upon us. Who knows what else may follow. These are troubled times,” and she glanced uneasily out of the window again.
I had been forgotten in the sudden terror, and I stood in the far corner of the room, waiting until I might have some attention. Seeing that I was like to stay there some time without notice, so firmly had the fear laid hold of the company, I stepped from my place, and, as I saw the inn keeper’s eyes turn toward me, I spoke:
“Master Willis,” I began, but I had scarce uttered the words than the mistress screamed, and the three men turned, as if to flee from the room. Verily, I believe they took me for a witch. Had not the logs in the fireplace blazed up then, showing who I was, there is no telling what might have happened.
Mistress Willis gave a sigh of relief while the tavern owner and his companions stared at me.
“Lackaday! I had clear forgotten you,” said the matron. “ ’Tis some one to see you, Samuel Willis.”
“Me?” repeated her husband.
“Captain Edward Amherst, at your service,” said I, bowing slightly. “I bear a commission from His Excellency Sir William Phips, and I was bidden to seek this inn, and to make it my headquarters for a time. I also have a letter from Sir William for you, Master Willis.”
“Ha! ’Tis a strange time to get a letter,” ejaculated mine host, taking the missive I held out. “And I can scarce break the seal from the trembling of my hand over this visitation of wrath that has come upon us.”
However, he managed, after several attempts, to crack the wax. Then, candles having been brought, he read what Sir William had addressed to him.
“You are very welcome, Captain,” said Willis, “though you come, indeed, at a grievous time. Sin, woe and misery are abroad in the land. We are threatened by the French and the Indians from without, and by horrid witchcraft within. ’Tis enough to make an honest man believe the end of the world is nigh. But, of a truth, you are welcome. We have been expecting that some military authority would be sent to Salem, to make ready for an aggressive movement.
“Rumor has already been busy,” he went on, “talking of the blow we are to strike at the enemies of the Crown in the American Colonies. How we are to swoop down, by land and by sea, on the French in Canada. I see by this that you are authorized to raise an hundred good men at arms in Salem town.”
“If it be possible,” I said.
“I