| OCR Text |
Show Page 168 When Richard had told Margaret all, he asked, "Is it possible Rose might have had anything to do with Sarah's death?" Margaret shook her head. "Not lessen she be a witch, and I do not believe that of her. Nay, Sarah died in her sleep and it is not an uncommon occurrence, especially in a babe so tiny at birth. Methinks her heart simply stopped beating." "And Francis's fever?" Harwood asked. "You know we get much sickness this time of year. Others lie ill too: Richard Chelsey, who bides with the Cumbers, Jane Dickins, Laurence Clarke. All are abed with fever. Nay, I think Rose had naught to do with Sarah's death or Francis's fever." "But the murder of her own babe is another matter," said Harwood, rising to his feet and drawing his red velvet cloak about his shoulders. "Though there may not be enough evidence to bring her to trial, since it is the boy's word against hers, and he an indentured servant, we can at least have her out of Martin's Hundred. We do not want our plantation peopled with murderers. It is bad enough the English courts send a few felons convicted of minor crimes here for their punishments. But at least we know who they be and they work as servants. They do not go amongst us as freemen, escaping penalty for their crime. And they are not murderers." A short time later, the arresting party set off, Richard |
