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has not George suffered this mysterious malady
without explication for several years now,
and have not the doctors expressed utter befuddlement
as to its cause?
- Yes, but... - Yes.
In such cases,
the answer is oft the simplest one.
George is not ill.
He is under the influence of the Devil's darkest tool...
a witch's spell.
And it is quite likely that this speller resides close at hearth.
No.
Perhaps even in the hallowed halls of your own home.
Say it.
Say what?
The accusation.
It dances on your tongue.
Well, I assure you, you are mistaken.
Hm.
Then I wish to bring my husband home immediately.
I think not, Mrs. Sibley.
You would deny me that right?
I must deny you that right
until we can discover the origin of the spell.
Hmm?
Then I would ask, or, rather, insist,
that someone attend to Mr. Sibley.
Someone who has experience with his travails.
What about that young man...
the one who was to take him to Boston, huh?
- Isaac? - Ah.
Isaac will do.
He sleeps still?
Under the care of sentries.
Oh, and, Mary.
Be of good heart.
Mr. lamb, the barkeep, tells me that he may wake at any moment.
Cotton.
No difference between me and those that already rest.
Besides a still-beating heart
in a shell where my soul no longer resides.
Oh, boy.
Good morning, Reverend.
I Wonder...
what would it take to get you to your feet?
Why would you wish to?
I fear I may have...
Judged you too harshly, Reverend Mather.
It is only now, when leaving my childhood behind,
that I realize we are, past and forever,
our fathers' children.
And we can no more control who they be
and how they came to form us
then we can the rise and setting of the sun.
I am sorry about your girl.
Thank you.
May we see you home?
Come on.
Once he's settled, captain,
may I ask a favor of you?
Surely.
"I think not, Mrs. Sibley."
As if he were socrates and I, a student at his knee.
Let me kill him, please.
No.
Let me ease this burden for you,
- as I've done the others. - Increase Mather is known
throughout the world, new and old.
His disappearance or death will not be taken lightly.
His head will sit on no man's platter.
He's no match for you, certainly.
That is where you are wrong, child.
This is our truest test To battle equals.
Mrs. Sibley.
Reverend.
Mercy.
Hello.
I wonder if I might have a private word
with my daughter.
I think not, Reverend.
I... Fetch me Isaac.
Now.
I am, um...
Astounded at the charity you've shown my child,
but if I wish to see her, is that not a father's right?
Why, in particular, do you wish to see her, Reverend?
Were you perhaps considering another exorcism?
Do your days grow dull,
lacking a child to beat and torture
and the nights far too lonely with no daughter to visit?
- I would never... - Mercy is mine.
Return here again and these accusations will be made public.
What of master Sibley? Has he woken?
The elders will wait no longer.
They require an audience with you today.
Has he woken?
Any moment now.
It were an accident, ma'am.
A wayward timber in the path,
and we found ourselves at sixes and sevens.
It's okay, Isaac.
I know you've done your best.
The Reverend summons me now,
heaven knows why, but I fear each second he's made to wait...
He will ask you to watch over Mr. Sibley.
- He will? - At my grave insistence,
since he refuses my desire
to bring my husband home to proper care.
He refuses you?
Salem reels out of control like an unwieldy spin top
at the whim of Increase Mather.
A tonic... the pain and ease of sleep.
Isaac, I beseech you,
in this most private and important matter,
do my bidding where I cannot.
Oh, uh...
Dose him immediately and keep him so.
George should not be made to suffer
for Mather senior's unfounded suspicions.
H-he shall not.
And Isaac...
Between us.
Like so many of Salem's secrets.
Between us.
Are you aware, son?
Your story is known far and wide throughout the land.
Isaac the fornicator.
No, no, no. Do not bow your head in shame.
Head up. Get your head up.
Head up. Head up.
The story of Isaac the fornicator
is a holy one.
It is used as a living precedent by we puritans
to illustrate to the children the evils of lust.
No, no. Your sin and your suffering...
it has been transformed into a great and a holy blessing.
For, my son...
You felt the hand of God.
He's touched you.
He's working through you.
He's chosen you.
No.
How many can say that they have been chosen by God?
Chosen for what?
Son, have you ever imagined a world beyond Salem?
- Hmm? - I...
Get your head up, your head up,
your head up, your head up.
I have a good life here, sir.
Yes, performing meager errands for Mrs. Sibley.
She's been good to me. Always.
Her charity binds you to her bidding.
No. No, no, no, Isaac.
Out there.
Out there, boy!
There's a vast world out there,
full of... full of opportunities,
and if you... if you would walk the straight road
in the sunlight with your head up,
I would take you with me to see it.
I would.
Would you like that?
What would I have to do?
Well...
You will have to...
have to tend to Mr. Sibley there.
You'll have to...
Make certain that he is fresh and tidy,
and that is no easy task, hmm?
Most importantly, you must alert me the moment that he wakes.
Yes.
Can you do that, hmm?
Do you mind me asking, sir,
what these are for?
Protection for Mr. Sibley against...
Outer forces.
It's cremated ash...
Of a 200-year-old witch.
And, Isaac...
I burned her myself.
So, the roof needs patching there and there,
a fresh coat of paint wouldn't hurt,
nor would four or five more beds for the smaller children,
and... I'm overwhelming you.
No, no.
I'm eager to put my energies to good.
Exactly.
The children are frightened, Captain.
Another hung today and not an inkling who's to be next.
They're unsure who to fear more...
witches or those who pursue them.
Well, who can blame them?
He doesn't play with the others.
The dark-haired boy.
He's been here two years.
His parents were murdered by Indians.
They say he saw.
No one knows how he survived.
Has anyone asked?
He doesn't talk.
At least, not anymore.
Not since... Then.
Excuse me.
Do you know anything about patching a roof?
Mrs. Sibley?
The mistress is out.
Oh.
Anything needed to be said to her can be said to me.
Oh, that's beautiful!
My familiar.
Familiar?
A gift from the Devil to do my bidding,
my spiritual companion.
This is how she feeds.
Will I get a familiar?
In time.
How do I choose?
You don't.
It chooses you.
Good day, Mrs. Sibley.
Girls.
We're off to meet Mercy in the graveyard.
Well.
On your way, then.
We all grieve the loss of our sister.
I do not argue this.
But beg remembrance that I was given little choice.
The malum...
Without which our grand rite would not be possible.
Rose brought it here, this instrument of death,
without my knowledge, to challenge and defeat me.
It is for you, retrieved at great cost,
relinquished with love and ardor for our cause.
I leave you now with the only tool
that exists on earth to control me.
_
The trick to making shakes is to split them...
not chopped or sawed, but to split.
Thank you.
Your turn.
Right! Well done.
Captain.
Mrs. Sibley.
Young man.
Why don't you go see if there's any fresh water.
Big doings this morning.
Seems every day brings its fair share of surprises.
I heard old Increase took possession of your husband.
Yes, he did.
And I'm eager to get him back.
You are?
Why?
Is it so unusual, Captain,
for a wife to want her husband at home?
In most cases, it's not unusual at all.
I heard my hard worker was thirsty.
Oh, Mrs. Sibley.
Uh, fresh apple water on offer.
No, thank you, Anne.
Good day, Captain. Young man.
Captain.
May I?
- Sir. - Good morrow.
If you're going to capitulate to your weakness,
must it be on constant public display?
Shall I leave public display to you, father?
Shall we abolish the noose
so that you may break necks with your own two hands?
She was dead.
The whore runner killed herself.
She was already dead,
and yet you hung her.
I said she would hang.
And hang she did.
We are nothing if we do not keep our word,
a principle which seems to mean very little to you, I fear.
Must you hate me so?
Oh, Cotton.
Your mother was a Cotton, as you know.
And my stepsister.
Our marriage was a historical inevitability.
The cottons and the Mathers...
who could resist such a...
such a joining of... of power and prestige?
Certainly not you.
She was a good woman,
and she was a fit enough mother,
but...
I didn't love her.
I didn't love.
And then you were born.
And there you were, a...
Squalling mess of limbs and of hair, and...
You weren't much.
But you were enough to show me love.
What utter irony
that you would then take the self-same thing from me.
Ah!
You are cut off, sir!
No. I have money!
I will drink muchly and often!
You will not. Now be on your way.
- I think not. - Oh, no, no. Whoa. Go!
The wine is from God.
The drunkard is from the Devil.
Pull yourself together.
There's much work to be done.
Let me kill him.
I have told you.
We cannot kill Increase.
Not silly old Increase.
Mr. Sibley.
This is what you teach her?
For any problem, murder is the first course of action?
We cannot kill George.
Why not?
You are so powerful You alone.
You do not need him.
That is where you are wrong, my dear.
We need him desperately.
Without George, it all goes away.
I am a widow with nothing...
no business to run, no voice with the selectmen.
With him alive, I can speak through him...
a puppet to parrot his wishes and thoughts.
But dead, he is useless and I am without power.
But how will you stop him from speaking?
I will enter his mind and destroy it from within.
His body will live on, but his mind will be gone.
How will you do that?
Quiet girl! That is enough questions.
Don't you tell me to be quiet.
- Quiet. - Enough!
Both of you, leave me now.
- But I can help you. - Get out!
Let go of me!
- Shh! - Let go!
You know who we could kill?
You.
You can't. She would never let you.
Maybe, maybe not.
You don't want to find out.
You're jealous and spiteful and awful.
Years... I have waited many, many years.
Stay out of my way, you little bitch.
Mrs. Sibley's only ever had your best interest at heart.
Yet still...
Your moment's worst desperation,
it was not her name you uttered for rescue
but that of the Reverend Mather senior.
What do I,
who have known only violence and malice from your eager hands,
care a whit about your rosy outlook?
Mary.
Free of your precious familiar,
I finally got hold of my dreams back.
Hmm. A beatific choice
for such a dark and twisted mind.
You remember coming here?
Yes. A picnic.
The one and only day I almost didn't despise you.
You never gave me a chance.
Your mind was long made up.
Can you blame me?
You stole my life.
And now you've stolen mine.
We are close.
So very close.
The grand rite is almost complete.
And then what?
Another kingdom for you to rule?
Yes.
A world in which I no longer need you.
A blessed world in which you can finally die.
Peril and threats.
Many a union has relied on less.
Don't look so worried, George.
We're a little ways off yet.
For now, I just need you quiet,
sleeping like an angel in your dirty bibs and nappies.
Farewell, George.
You bitch!
Oh, that bastard.
- Sibley? - Increase Mather.
He was there.
Protecting George.
Guarding his mind even in sleep.
We have another problem.
We must do something about the girl.
Mercy.
She is... Unreliable.
It is only a matter of time before
we can no longer control her.
At a time such as this
when I am nearer to discovery and annihilation
than ever before,
you would distract yourself
with petty jealousy and spiteful accusations.
I am trying to make...
Never have I needed you more.
And never have you disappointed me so gravely.
I would do anything for you.
I love you.
Oh, and I wish to God you didn't.
Love me less and you will love me better.
Find a way to get to George.
Tomorrow, we'll work on the paint.
That is, if you're still available, of course.
Excellent.
Excellent, son.
Stephen.
You've seen my daughter.
You can move along. There's kids here.
I'm looking for a kid... my kid.
And I said, "move along."
Mr. Hopkins.
How can we help you?
My daughter came to stay here after when I was in jail?
Emily?
No, Mr. Hopkins. She did not.
Have you seen her around?
No, sir. I haven't.
Oh.
You tell her I'm looking for her.
You tell her she needs to come home.
Yes, Mr. Hopkins. I'll do that.
Lizzy...
Did you bring the chicken feathers
and the dried horse dung?
I brung the feathers, but the dung weren't dry.
And what about the mice?
They scattered when the cat come to the trap.
Mercy is to be here any minute.
Must I do everything myself?
Miss Hopkins, may I have a word?
Your father has been freed.
I see.
And he's been looking for you,
asks that you come home immediately.
Miss Hale.
Can we help you?
I've only come to tell Miss Hopkins
that her father has been freed.
How kind.
And that he seemed...
Quite inebriated and not himself,
and that perhaps she oughtn't to go home tonight.
Perhaps she ought to stay in the orphanage where she'd be safe.
She is safe.
With us.
Is she?
Would you care to stay and...
See for yourself...
Anne?
Not tonight.
Stop.
What is that?
A tonic. For pain.
Where did you get it?
Mr. lamb gave it to me
No.
No?
Young man...
Young man, I offered you an opportunity, did I not?
Do you remember?
The world... the vast world, the sunlight.
I somehow suspected you would find a way
to undermine yourself.
But I did... I hoped against hope that you wouldn't,
but you did.
Because not only are you a cretin, you're a failure.
You're a cretinous failure, and like all failures,
you say to yourself, "but I never get the chance!
I never get the opportunity," but it just ain't so, is it?
No.
And like every failure, what do you do?
You just piss in the well of possibility.
And now you are going to tell me who gave you the potion.
Stiff as a stick, cold as a marble.
Light as a spirit, lift yourself.
Light as a feather, stiff as a board.
Master spider, stilted or stifled...
Spin us a web and heed our call.
Master spider, stilted or stifled,
spin us a web and heed our call.
Master spider, stilted or stifled...
Who gave it you?
Hmm? Who gave it you?
Head up. Head up.
- It's not a potion. - It's not a potion?
It's not a po...
Look at me, boy.
It's... it's medicine.
One more time.
I'm going to ask you, who gave it to you?
Master spider, stilted or stifled,
spin us a web and heed our call.
Master spider, stilted or stifled...
What we'll do is this...
It's medicine.
Shh, shh.
I'm going to slit your belly open.
It's medicine.
I'm going to reach in, pull out,
and I'm going to throttle you with your own intestines.
Heed our call.
Master spider, stilted or stifled,
spin us a web and heed our call.
Master spider, stilted or stifled...
No. No. No.
Now, you tell me right now,
who gave it to you?!
Tell me, Isaac!
Tell me!
Mrs. Sibley could bring no harm to a living thing.
If... if she provided me the medicine,
that's good enough for me.
Mrs. Sibley, eh?
Well done.
Off with you now.
Go.
Go on! Out of my sight!
Isaac the fornicator!
George.
George!
Hey.
Hello, father.
Told you I'd get out.
Yes, you did.
I told you this weren't over.
You'll be sold still, if the whores will have you.
I'm not going anywhere.
You will.
You will go where I tell you!
I won't.
I won't. I...
Please!
Henry Hopkins.
What is this?
Hey!
Aah!
Stephen.
That's his name, the boy.
He told you?
Yep.
Two years without speaking,
and in one day, he tells you his name.
He must have really taken to you, Captain.
No, I wouldn't say that.
And who could blame him?
Boys need attention
and hard work to burn off their energy.
And I'm grateful...
For your hard work.
It's the first hours passed since I've come back
where I haven't thought about witches.
I supposed one could choose that life...
honest work, community, a loving family,
and not a witch in sight.
Maybe there's hope for us yet.
You!
Alert the selectmen.
Another witch has been revealed. Follow me.
Or maybe not.
Mary Sibley!
Your husband is awake.
George is awake?
Has he spoken?
He is rendered incapable of speech.
Nevertheless, the name of his tormentor has been divulged.
What does that mean...
"rendered unable to speak"?
Do you recognize this potion?
Yes.
It's a physic for pain.
I gave it to Isaac to give to Mr. Sibley.
A physic for pain?
Tell me, would a physic for pain
seal Mr. Sibley's mouth shut...
With a golden web?
A tonic for pain.
Nothing more.
Might I suggest, father,
that Mrs. Sibley's tonic is just that,
and the work of the web is due,
more likely, to the real witch's spider familiar.
Yes.
It's a possibility. Search the house.
Wait!
I'm sorry, sir.
Did you say a spider?
The Lewis child, once tortured and possessed by witches.
Yet now she looks remarkably well.
All due to Mrs. Sibley's kindness.
She saved my life.
I was tortured and tormented,
at the verge of begging for death,
and Mary Sibley delivered me from evil.
Which is why I hesitate to say...
What is it you have to say, girl?
The other morning,
when Mrs. Sibley was out on shipping business...
Yes?
I did pass Tituba's room,
and she was doing the strangest thing.
Tell us, Mercy. Tell us what you saw.
She held a spider to her neck.
Yes?
She seemed to feed it.
You.
Come here.
I hereby arrest you...
On the charge of witchcraft.
Guards.
- Yes, sir. - Aye, sir.
Come with us.