Salem (2014) s02e01 Episode Script

Previously on "Salem" - Aah! - This is my vow.
I will come back for you.
George Sibley drove John Alden off to die in the war.
What do you think he's gonna do when he finds out you're pregnant with John's baby? Precious Salem caught up in a stinking witch panic.
I was told you were killed.
Was that before or after you married Sibley? What's John Alden compared to all that lies before you? The Grand Rite, a ritual of death attributed to witches over the centuries.
What do these witches want? A country of their own.
I want to be just like you.
All the world shall be yours.
Mercy! You said your master would protect us.
You have betrayed me.
Alden is a traitor, and he is in love with a witch.
- You're one of them? - Yes.
Execute them on the spot.
Tonight, there will be a plague released near Salem.
Only those who carry the witch blood will be safe.
I am not a witch! It will end here.
Father! Cotton.
Your father's gone mad! She dies now! I am the Queen of the Night.
And she will pay for what she's done.
My child lives? Hey! Stop! Get back here, boy! Stop! Don't go in there.
Who's down there? Death.
And if that mockingbird don't sing Mama's gonna buy you a diamond ring Mama's gonna buy you Boy.
The plague is among us.
Ma'am.
Aah! No! Aah! Aah! - Help me.
- Aah! Help me! Mother's gonna buy you a looking glass and if that looking glass gets broke mother's gonna buy you a black she-goat and if that black she-goat won't milk mother's gonna buy you a roll of silk You look like you've never had a lullaby before.
The Widdershins don't like songs.
Widdershins? They guarded me at night.
Well, we'll soon change that.
I shall sing to you every night.
Tell me, dearest.
Where were you all these years? Tell me.
Time's up.
Come now, child.
You'll see your mother again tomorrow.
It's time to go home.
This is his home.
It's been three days, and I'm already tired of this arrangement.
You're not taking my child from me.
Tituba, make it stop.
Let him go, and it will.
I will not be toyed with like this.
They need to trust me.
I am his mother.
The Elders want to make sure that you stay focused on the urgent tasks at hand.
Have I not already done what none before me could accomplish? Including those decrepit, old shits in the woods? At this very moment, the witch pox decimates our enemies but cannot touch those of witch blood.
I will close the curtain around Salem and begin the consecration of the land with hell-blood.
The gate will open on time.
No one lacks Faith in your abilities.
But what remains to be done cannot be done alone.
You must shore up your support.
Mercy, your own creation, is dangerously unstable and Anne Hale, an infinitely greater threat.
That pallid blossom? She is a cradle witch of the highest and oldest order.
Come, child.
Remember, time is not on our side.
A month from now, every man, woman, and child in this cursed town will be dead by the pox or on our side.
You still think of John Alden.
And you wonder why we don't trust you.
I remember well what Rose told me.
Only a broken heart can feel true malice.
Watching you walk my son back into the darkness breaks it all over again every night.
So, have no fear.
My malice is in full bloom.
And rest assured, you traitorous, little bitch, once they have tasted it, you will choke on it.
You track the Indians.
Your eyes are everywhere and can go anywhere.
What is it that you wish to see? I need to find John Alden.
Yes.
I remember him.
He was here once.
But where is he now? I've heard all the reports.
Scores of the militia who sought him found slaughtered with nary a trace of him.
Sit, Mistress.
And give me your hands.
Did you find what you were looking for? I wonder if you even remember.
Remember what? What it feels like to sleep with your head on a pillow instead of a corpse.
And your dress.
Do you remember the feel of clean silk? Even your father never dressed you as poorly as this.
No, he thought nothing of my dressing.
Only my undressing.
We are all angry at someone, Mercy.
But we can't let that control us.
That would be to leave the whip in our oppressor's hand even after they're gone.
Wise words.
And true.
But forgive me, Lady, if I still cherish thoughts of revenge in my breast.
Salem will be ours soon.
Isn't that the best revenge? Sometimes the best revenge is revenge.
Mercy, I know you blame me for much.
But it has always been I who protected you.
And I still can if you would only pay proper respect to the Elders and to me.
You alone know the truth.
That I, and not you, beheaded the Samhain witch.
But I'm not greedy.
I'm perfectly content to rule alongside you.
As your equal.
You know that will never happen, child.
You are too reckless.
Submit to your elders, myself included.
And in the fullness of time, who knows what powers you might attain? Truly.
I promise.
Like you promised John Alden? If you believe nothing else I say, girl, believe this.
If you defy me, only horror awaits you Unimaginable and infinitely painful.
Hear me.
That is no mere promise, but a curse.
Cotton Mather.
Sent to Salem to see to the matter of a single, disturbed girl, you return here to Boston six weeks later leaving in your wake a full-blown witch panic, more than a dozen hangings, and apparently unbeknownst to you, the murder of your own father.
And even worse, these horrible deeds are all the work of the witch John Alden, according to some, your closest associate.
Indeed.
I have much to answer for.
But first I must say that whatever happened to my father, I cannot believe that John Alden had anything to do with it.
Then at least try to explain yourself.
How did it come to this? On the very night he landed in Salem, my father said to me that it were better 1,000 innocents die than a single witch walk free.
I now believe that though my father was right about about the nature of the threat that hangs over all of us, he he was entirely wrong in his moral mathematics.
Somehow, d- despite or even because of our relentless efforts, the witches completed their dreaded Grand Rite.
The war is on.
The battle has begun.
And the front line is in Salem.
Cotton Mather.
It is the elders' will that you shall, as your father intended, continue his work at the north Boston church.
You are confined to Boston and forbidden from returning to Salem.
Save me.
Save us.
And deliver us from our failures.
Gloriana.
Gloriana.
Don't stop, my lord.
Don't stop.
Oh! Ugh.
See yourself out, and help yourself to any food you may find in the kitchen on your way.
We know the truth, don't we, father? It wasn't John Alden who ran you through but me.
Perhaps I should tell them how insane you'd become.
How close to murder you came.
And what I did to save your soul from that condemnable sin.
How is it you've always stared at me, father, but never saw me? Damn your eyes! Damn them straight to Hell! To Hell! - Blessed evening.
- Good evening.
Good night.
Ta! Now, the only women on the streets this time of night are whores or beggars.
I ain't never seen a beggar smile.
So, how much? I don't want your money.
I just want you.
Come with me.
Someplace we won't be seen.
Where we going? You'll see.
- Just come with me a little - Leave me alone! A little bit further.
No, no.
Hey! Shh.
Shh.
Mm.
Mm.
Oh.
It's just my sisters.
Mm.
Oh, god.
Mercy Lewis! You witch! Stay away from me.
No.
No, you let me go.
I'll tell them all.
I'll tell them all.
I'll tell them all you're here and what you're doing.
Really? And what are you gonna tell them? That you dragged a poor girl to the woods to steal her maidenhood? No.
Some crazy bitch stole your manhood? I control you now.
Go home.
You will say nothing of this because you can say nothing of this.
And one day, maybe tomorrow night, maybe 1,001 nights from now, I will call you.
Yes.
And you will do as you are told.
Make way! Move back.
Make way! Make way.
Move away.
Move back! Make way! It's your own life force, Anne.
Deep down, beneath the guilt, you want to live.
I know you killed your parents, Anne.
It's time to face what you really are.
No.
I may bear certain unasked-for traits, but that does not make me a witch.
I am not one of you.
You know nothing of me.
I don't want to know.
I, too, came into my powers in the wake of great and painful loss.
And I remember what it was first like to feel my body from within like a fever in the blood, that I could now do things, do things with words, with gestures.
There is nothing I care to learn from you.
No? You have yet to feel the terror that slowly becomes fascination and eventually joy as you learn to take in the life force in all the creatures around us, turning the power within it, directing it as you will, into another person Or into, say, a doll.
Do you remember when I gave you a little doll that very nearly squeezed the life out of you? That was you.
I can teach you to control that.
If you allow me in and you come in with us, with me, your eyes and heart and body will open to a truly new world.
How can you hope to build a new world on the corpses of the innocents who live in this one? There is no world new or old not founded on bones and blood.
Imagine a world free of the violent hypocrisy and oppression of the puritans, a new world that celebrates the power of nature, freedom of thought, belief, and feeling.
This is our chance.
A moment when the future of this land is utterly in doubt.
You and I may have different methods, Anne, but the life you dream of is the very one I'm fighting for.
But at what price? You, all of you, even my father, sold your souls to the devil himself.
Neither the world, the flesh, nor the devil himself is like a puritan suit in only black and white.
All is gray.
And the devil they fear is not the devil I know.
Either way, you had best be careful.
You are an orphaned female, naked and vulnerable in a world of predatory men, many of whom would be glad to take your father's fortune and your virginity.
I would be happy to extend to you the protection I receive from Mr.
Sibley until you should find a man of your own to lend you a name and some standing.
And why would you want to help me? We have both known loss.
Profound loss.
But we are of the same family.
And to heal those losses, we must work together.
But what will we say about my parents? Just clean yourself up, and show up at the meeting house.
This is not the time to fall into despair.
Yes, since the discovery of this awful pox in Knocker's Hole, four more households have been felled.
And not all of them in that downtrodden place.
Good homes in fine neighborhoods are not immune, and none of us are safe.
This scourge has taken our own Magistrate Hale and his loving wife, leaving behind their sorrowful daughter, Anne.
But we can and will protect ourselves from the ravages of this pox.
It may require some sacrifices, some strictures.
But these are small prices to pay.
Absurd.
Why's that? Speak.
I submit to my fellow select men and citizens that there is an entirely other way of viewing our dreadful circumstances.
God has given us a clear sign that we have offended him.
A pox on all our houses.
Now we must do whatever is necessary to win back the Lord's favor.
And presumably, Mr.
Hathorne, you know what God's will is.
What is it that has offended him so? I am quite certain what god is most displeased with.
But what is a surer sign of a world turned upside-down than a world with a woman on top? We have utterly upended the most fundamental principle of how things are to be, which is led by men Men of property, men of substance, men of godly goodwill.
But above all, by men.
Hear, hear! My husband N Let us be done with that.
Mrs.
Sibley, until George may speak for himself, clearly and audibly as a man, let us at least admit it is you, Mrs.
sibley, who lead the select men of Salem.
I submit it is high time that the select men of Salem either elect a new leader or explicitly affirm that they choose to be led by Mary Sibley under the name of her incapacitated husband, George.
If you think this pox cares whether you be led by a woman or a man, you will all die.
The pox no more discriminates by sex than a lion prefers to eat a man or a woman.
Though like a lion, it may take the weakest first.
And I have just been to where your weakest reside, in wretched Knocker's Hole.
I had hoped to give them more voice here than they obviously have, but I find you all consumed with petty politics.
I'm headed back there now to see what can be done.
Well said, Sir.
Well said.
It is high time this board made it clear that however abject they may be and whether they pray at meeting or not, the least among us is our responsibility, too.
I shall accompany you to see how they fare and to show our support.
Why, this woman is not afraid to walk into the den of plague for our people.
Would you care to join me, Sir? The worst afflicted are this way.
In my experience, the difference between a plague terrorizing a town and destroying it is a matter of days.
Hold there.
Tell me, Sir.
Who are you to speak with such confidence of the pox? A doctor, Ma'am, with royal certification.
I've walked through many poxes.
I survived the plague as a child, and I believe I can save all of you.
Not by prayer, not by repentance, not by fasting, nor by purging your community of undesirables, witches, or powerful women, but, in a word, by science.
Seal and mark that door.
Your arrival here could not be more fortuitous.
I think you might be God's gift to Salem.
That's a very old-world affectation.
Well, I think despite all the progress in new thinking, we are less advanced in other ways.
After all, England achieved its greatest heights a century ago under a woman Queen Bess.
And yet over here, men like your Mr.
Hathorne still doubt the value of a strong woman.
And I think perhaps, Mrs.
Sibley, you are like the Queen Elizabeth of Salem.
Are you as adept at the new science as you are the old flattery? I am.
And I'm determined to cure this pox before it spreads any further.
And what is it you think you can do? Well, to begin with, find its origin, for in the beginning of things is often to be found their end.
Good day.
Hell.
Hell.
Do I have your protection? Why, you look like a man poring over a pirate's treasure map.
And if I find what I seek, it may be a great treasure, indeed.
These are all the cases of the pox I've encountered or heard of.
My tracking of where outbreaks and incidents have been reported may point directly to the place the pox must have started.
I intend to go there to the north woods.
And finding the point or place of origin may lead me to some answers as to how this outbreak began.
Those are deep woods, Sir.
Even locals fear to trek there.
Ah.
Terra incognita.
Well, I live for unexplored territory.
And in my experience, often the most fearsome landscapes are hiding the most succulent gardens.
Very well.
Godspeed.
Deep woods, indeed.
But let me show you.
In just a few days, I have claimed control of six men to do my bidding.
But I should be running the Hive! It is I, not Mary Sibley, who should run But but I have worked so That was a mistake.
Is this it? Have I passed over? Did I make it to Heaven? Or am I in hell? Neither Heaven nor Hell, Sir.
Merely Salem.
Oh.
Uh, forgive me the late hour, Mather, but I felt that some of my questions might be better asked in private.
When exactly was the last time you saw your father? Um earlier on the day I left.
He felt quite certain that he and his militia would lay their hands upon John Alden, and he felt that his flock here in Boston had suffered without a Shepherd for far too long.
So, he sent me back to prepare for his own return.
I see.
Though, of course, he never did.
What? Return.
No.
What do you think it says that he sent you back just when he was about to attempt to capture the witch? It doesn't exactly show a lot of confidence.
We argued.
Yes, as one does.
I don't recall ever arguing with my father.
I certainly never raised my voice.
It would have felt to me like striking him.
Trust me.
If either of us was likely to bolster words with blows, it would have been my father, not me.
Are you saying that your father struck you? I'm sure no more than was necessary for my proper upbringing.
Now, if you haven't any further questions, it's getting quite late.
Yes, of course.
And as you are confined to Boston, if we have any need of further inquiry, we certainly know just where to find you.
Cotton Mather knows nothing.
But is it clear that Increase is dead? Truly and definitely dead? Oh, yes.
Most definitely dead.
I suppose that is something to celebrate.
That man had a grip like none other.
Were it not so, I would not carry this mark, and I would have done in Marburg some time ago what they whisper has been achieved in Salem.
Mather understands enough to know that a Grand Rite was undertaken.
But he has no idea who was actually leading it nor who killed his father, though he seems quite certain it was not this John Alden.
But this is what I want to know.
Who is it that led the Grand Rite? Well, to answer that, your Grace, I believe we must go to Salem ourselves.
I am sorry, Mr.
Eliot, that you will not be accompanying me and my son to Salem.
Your work for me is done.
But in recompense I invite you to stop averting your gaze and stare directly.
Mrs.
Sibley.
Given your concern for the city, I wanted you to be the first to know I have found him.
I see you've found our Isaac.
He is quite possibly the savior of Salem.
Oh? He holds the key.
I found him at the very epicenter of the plague.
And how does that aid us? Well, he's showing remarkable resistance to the pox.
Some property in his blood may well provide the key to protecting other people.
And if he lives, he will tell us what happened to him and how he came to be in the woods.
He will point directly to the origin and source of the pox itself.
Well, let us pray he survives.
That was my mother's.
I never met her, but my father gave it to me when I was about your age.
And this, her comb.
It's made from the shell of a great sea creature from some far-off island in the west indies.
Don't know much about my mother.
Or my father, for that matter.
They were taken from me too young.
I want it to be different for you.
Tell me.
What? About my father.
Your father.
He is was the very best of men.
I loved him more than anything.
But he is dead.
And now all my love is reserved for you.
And what was his name? John.
They won't let me have a name.
Not until I'm baptized.
But if I could, I would like to be John, too, like him.
And so you shall be, little John.
What's wrong? They're dead.
They're dead.
They're dead.
What's going on? They're dead.
Mercy Lewis killed our witches.
True witches.
The Elders.