See if it be better over there, where a man doth govern who speaks of soul liberty.”
September 1637
My dear Aunt Urith
,
Terrible deeds have occurred. I must unburden myself of them and trust you may bear my abhorrence. Our English hath marched to a place in Connecticut named Mystic where they found a fort of the Pequot. Oh, my aunt, how could the Lord countenance the murder of
150
men, women, and children? Our governor Winthrop hath reported this to us with great satisfaction and we have sat in the meeting house with bowed heads, thanking the Lord for our victory. All this summer such things have continued. On one occasion forty-eight Pequot women and children were marched into Boston. They were branded and given to various for servants. I would not have one and was hard put to say why, but did so. On another occasion the Pequot men did hide in a swamp and sent away their women and children to be saved. After a battle wherein the Pequot men were killed, wounded or escaped, the English did find the women and children. They divided them as we do cattle or sheep, sending them hither and thither, to Bermuda, Massachusetts and Connecticut. Now they say that the Devil hath been defeated, eight or nine hundred of his army being killed dead and the rest dispersed. I came upon a child in the street following after her English mistress. Oh, my aunt, had we been home you and I would have taken her and searched high and low for themother for whom she wept. Yet I dare not speak my mind for there is for the smallest offence the lash, the stocks and the gallows. ’Tis a dark place despite the sun which blazeth upon us and doth reflect off the sea like butterflies. What would I do without my Sinnie, who hath taught our Samuel to play the cat’s cradle and hath made for him a doll of stockings. Who laughs and feels not the horror …
She woke from a dream of grief. William slept beside her; he would leave for the Narragansett Country next month on some pretext. She stared up at the bed’s canopy. She could not understand this pregnancy. The child within did not stretch, urgent as a swelling seed. Rather she felt jolts of change, a jagged momentum accompanied by dread. And although Sinnie was thrilled by the pregnancy, and perceived her mistress to feel the same, Mary did not tell her how her physical distress, oddly, had no commensurate and anticipatory joy. Her morning sickness lasted far longer than normal. She was continuously dizzy, rising from the washtub and reeling, snatching at chair backs or walls, standing with eyes closed against the world’s doubling. Her legs were seized by cramps that woke her, shouting with agony, so that William would waken and knead at her calves with his thumbs. Her belly was but a slight bulge and the movements within her womb were furtive ripplings rather than the bold shoves she remembered from Samuel’s tenancy.
Her lips moved. She whispered into the cold darkness.
To thee, O Lord, I call; my rock, be not deaf to me …
EIGHT
Signs and Wonders — 1637
ALL DAY THEY HEARD THE screaming of pigs.
Slaughter season. William had killed theirs before sailing for Providence two weeks ago. Mary had received no word from him since.
She went to the garden to pick parsley. Samuel followed, carrying a basket. Mary saw how the pouched skin on his hands was sun-browned. He trotted ahead of her between the sunflower stalks. The carrot tops were feathery, turning pale, and the air bore the regretful spice of decay.
“Parsley,” Samuel called, squatting. Milkweed seeds pinwheeled, landed on the child’s head.
She stood stock-still, gazing at him. Love came as if from the drifting seeds, the sun-warmed tufts of goldenrod, the scent of mint. She wondered why it came pouring upon her just now. Perhaps because Samuel had himself chosen to leave Sinnie’s side. Perhaps it was the way his deer-hide slippers had patted so confidently over the path. Or because he was a boy now, not a baby. His lips would
September 1637
My dear Aunt Urith
,
Terrible deeds have occurred. I must unburden myself of them and trust you may bear my abhorrence. Our English hath marched to a place in Connecticut named Mystic where they found a fort of the Pequot. Oh, my aunt, how could the Lord countenance the murder of
150
men, women, and children? Our governor Winthrop hath reported this to us with great satisfaction and we have sat in the meeting house with bowed heads, thanking the Lord for our victory. All this summer such things have continued. On one occasion forty-eight Pequot women and children were marched into Boston. They were branded and given to various for servants. I would not have one and was hard put to say why, but did so. On another occasion the Pequot men did hide in a swamp and sent away their women and children to be saved. After a battle wherein the Pequot men were killed, wounded or escaped, the English did find the women and children. They divided them as we do cattle or sheep, sending them hither and thither, to Bermuda, Massachusetts and Connecticut. Now they say that the Devil hath been defeated, eight or nine hundred of his army being killed dead and the rest dispersed. I came upon a child in the street following after her English mistress. Oh, my aunt, had we been home you and I would have taken her and searched high and low for themother for whom she wept. Yet I dare not speak my mind for there is for the smallest offence the lash, the stocks and the gallows. ’Tis a dark place despite the sun which blazeth upon us and doth reflect off the sea like butterflies. What would I do without my Sinnie, who hath taught our Samuel to play the cat’s cradle and hath made for him a doll of stockings. Who laughs and feels not the horror …
She woke from a dream of grief. William slept beside her; he would leave for the Narragansett Country next month on some pretext. She stared up at the bed’s canopy. She could not understand this pregnancy. The child within did not stretch, urgent as a swelling seed. Rather she felt jolts of change, a jagged momentum accompanied by dread. And although Sinnie was thrilled by the pregnancy, and perceived her mistress to feel the same, Mary did not tell her how her physical distress, oddly, had no commensurate and anticipatory joy. Her morning sickness lasted far longer than normal. She was continuously dizzy, rising from the washtub and reeling, snatching at chair backs or walls, standing with eyes closed against the world’s doubling. Her legs were seized by cramps that woke her, shouting with agony, so that William would waken and knead at her calves with his thumbs. Her belly was but a slight bulge and the movements within her womb were furtive ripplings rather than the bold shoves she remembered from Samuel’s tenancy.
Her lips moved. She whispered into the cold darkness.
To thee, O Lord, I call; my rock, be not deaf to me …
EIGHT
Signs and Wonders — 1637
ALL DAY THEY HEARD THE screaming of pigs.
Slaughter season. William had killed theirs before sailing for Providence two weeks ago. Mary had received no word from him since.
She went to the garden to pick parsley. Samuel followed, carrying a basket. Mary saw how the pouched skin on his hands was sun-browned. He trotted ahead of her between the sunflower stalks. The carrot tops were feathery, turning pale, and the air bore the regretful spice of decay.
“Parsley,” Samuel called, squatting. Milkweed seeds pinwheeled, landed on the child’s head.
She stood stock-still, gazing at him. Love came as if from the drifting seeds, the sun-warmed tufts of goldenrod, the scent of mint. She wondered why it came pouring upon her just now. Perhaps because Samuel had himself chosen to leave Sinnie’s side. Perhaps it was the way his deer-hide slippers had patted so confidently over the path. Or because he was a boy now, not a baby. His lips would
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