Mary resorts to drastic measures, by temporarily bringing Increase's soul from Hell, in a bid to attain valuable information for use in combating the Countess, and she tries to shore up her political hold over Salem with a move that could either assure her success or seal her fate. As Anne Hale continues her Witch's tutorial through her father's Witch book, she learns that getting what she desires comes at a cost, and that in order to continue on her seemingly powerful path she must still remain supplicant to others. As the Countess and her son, Sebastian, continue to work their plan, they are presented with a rare glimpse into their enemy's stronghold where they are introduced to Little John unexpectedly, and their cause is made stronger by Mercy. Wainwright returns to Salem having gained some measure of information that shed light on the town's particular strain of plague to Mary but reveals that he is willing to join with Mary to know more about their powers. Meanwhile, Tituba makes plans for John Alden, whom she had caught while he was to kill Anne in her sleep, and Cotton gets a surprising visit from his father's ghost.
[PREVIOUSLY_ON] Countess Marburg: It would appear there is another enemy at your gates. Mary: Then let us use this common threat as reason to unite. Countess Marburg: I have left a token of my appreciation. Sebastian: I do know you, Mary. I know you do not love me now. But you will. Mary: I was quite capable of disposing of George in my own manner. Sebastian: I prefer to have George in my pocket, not yours. Cotton: What happened to you, John? John: I fought fire with fire and got burned. Tituba: You will kill no witches tonight. Anne: Wrap it 'round with walls of Thorn. Let his mad love for me be born. Cotton: I... I love you. Countess Marburg: You hide in here, and you wish upon the moon itself to be as unmarked as you once were. Dollie: [ Whimpers ] [ Crying ] Countess Marburg: The last of the true witches. Do not lie to me. There could be no greater error than that. Anne: You know Increase Matherather? Countess Marburg: Oh, he and I danced a lively jig, and neither of us left it unmarked. Mary: Search your memory, Cotton. Surely, your father told you some hint to exactly how he sent this siren back to hell. Cotton: Would that he had. I'm afraid all his secrets died with him. Mary: I never thought I'd say these words... But I need you... Increase Matherather. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. [ Blows ] Every man feeds the conqueror worm. I eat your flesh, so obey, you must. By my command, moist earth turn. Give up your dead, their secrets to tell. Increase Mather, I call you from Hell. [ Creaking ] Alas, poor Increase. I knew him well. Too well. Dear Increase... You really think I'd allow you to lay hands on me? [ Glass shatters ] Feel better? No, I thought not. You always were a slow learner. Do you understand now? You... are... dead. Snatched from the burning sh1t pits of Hell to serve me. Increase: [ Gasping ] [ Groaning ] [ "Cupid carries a gun" plays ] ♪ Pound me the witch drums ♪ ♪ witch drums ♪ ♪ pound me the witch drums ♪ ♪ pound me the witch drums ♪ ♪ the witch drums ♪ ♪ better pray for hell ♪ ♪ not hallelujah ♪ Mary: If you would speak... Perhaps in death, you must first learn what you never did in life... To listen. Painful, I know, for a man who lived by the power of his speech to be silenced. Or perhaps you weep for all those voices you silenced. Or is it just the torments you now suffer for those crimes. Increase: [ Gasps ] Mary: To give you a voice. Aww... poor Increase. Increase: [ Gasps ] [ Suckling ] Mary: Yes. Increase: [ Grunts ] [ Sighs ] Mary: Now, you, uh... You wanted to say something? Go ahead. Increase: God damn your soul to Hell. Mary: Oh, I've already offered up my soul to Hell. You, on the other hand, must have been terribly surprised to find yourself consigned there. Increase: Nothing could have surprised me less. No, I've always gone where all the others... My idiot son included... Are too weak to go. I take the battle to the very heart of darkness. I would do it again. Mary: Each man's hell is as unique as his crimes. What was yours? Increase: Mine... it is... me... Strapped into my own torture chair, beset by a legion of devils, each wearing my own face, mortifying my flesh with implements far more fiendish than any I could ever have contrived, gripped in hands as scarred as my own. No one can imagine or bear the torments of one's own worst acts. Mary: They say that those of us who find our hell on earth will find our heaven in hell. Increase: Even you, I should think, would not summon me from my grave simply to gloat. Mary: You lost the battle for the soul of Salem, and now you suffer in Hell without even the consolation of victory. I want to give you a second chance. Increase: A boon from Mary Sibley, Satan's favorite whore? Mary: [ Chuckles ] Increase: Why would you do anything for me? Mary: You didn't just fail in Salem. The world knows you for your great triumph back in Germany, but that was a failure, too. The witch you supposedly killed still lives. The bitch walks the streets of Salem at this very moment. Now help me defeat her for good. Increase: Yes. Mary Sibley, you're right. You know, she fooled me before, but she won't... She won't do it again. But before I can teach you how to destroy her now and forever, I must observe the bitch's lair. [ Chuckles ] [ Chains rattling ] John: Where am I? Tituba: In Salem... and outside of it. John: What do you want, witch? [ Gasps ] Tituba: So much magic on your flesh. You are becoming what you hunt, witch hunter. Careful, or you'll be torn apart by your own dogs. John: I hunt. I am my own dog. Tituba: And so you tear yourself apart. Such a desperate move, to let a medicine man bind your soul to the great spirit. Did they even warn you of the price you'd pay for such power? John: All except the part where I'd have to spend eternity listening to your bullshit. Why don't you just kill me? Tituba: Because I am not done with you yet. Never had much use for men... But I'm starting to think I might have some for you. John: I'd see you all burn. [ Grunts ] Tituba: Well, I have no problem with that... As long as they are the right witches. John: Is that why you saved Anne Hale? Tituba: [ Chuckles ] I did not save Anne Hale from you. I saved you from her. Countess Marburg: It's nothing short of astonishing... You seized the puritans' heartland from right out underneath them, got them to murder 13 of their own kind to fulfill your Grand Rite, even had the infinite satisfaction of using the odious Increase Mather as your final victim... Well, this would have been an enormous, indeed, unprecedented triumph, but you dared the ultimate... Unleashing a witch pox which turns their very bodies into hell-blood and opens a new gate of Hell at their feet. Mrs. Sibley... You are indeed a wonder for the ages. Mary: Thank you, Countess. Countess Marburg: [ Chuckles ] Mary: But I must humbly ask for your help. Now, with Mr. Sibley so inconveniently dead, I must shore up my authority in these final days. Your prestige and glamour rule Salem. I would like to invite a few of the important people to a dinner. For you and, of course, your son to sit at my table as my friend and supporter would make all the difference. Countess Marburg: It's a splendid idea. Yes. Yes, I was right. Our interests truly are as one. [ Sizzling ] Mary: You know, Sebastian, I have always responded much more to the carrot than the stick. Sebastian: And what variety of carrot might you have in mind? Mary: I do not relish having George's body hanging over me. If I could truly believe that you had disposed of it, I'd be so grateful, and my gratitude, sir, could... Raise the dead. Sebastian: Consider it done. The last trace of George will be gone before the night is through. [ Indistinct conversations ] Mary: You will have your chance tonight to find out if the Countess is the same witch you fought all those years ago. Increase: When I see her, I will know if it really is her. You see, she bears my mark, just as I bear hers. More importantly, I will find where she keeps it. Mary: It? Increase: One unholy object allows her to maintain her obscenely long existence. Destroy it, you destroy her. Mary: But what exactly is this object? Increase: You will learn the price of that knowledge once I have located... it. Mary: While she and her son dine here, you will have the run of her ship. Anne: Cotton loves me. But if he is spelled to love me, then how can I ever be sure his love is real? I want a man, not a puppet. Tell me, Brown Jenkins, is it possible to get everything one wants and not be happy? [ Squeaking ] You're not happy either, are you? What is it you want? Cheese? [ Gasping ] [ Squeals ] [ Gasps ] Countess Marburg: Oh, he simply wants to suckle and be fed by his mistress. [ Clicking tongue ] Oh, come here. [ Chuckles ] It is the price for doing all your bidding. [ Squeaking ] There, now. There. You should be proud to bear your witch mark. But, of course, upon your life, you must also keep it a secret... Just as you were supposed to keep our secret from Mary Sibley. I should punish you horribly here and now, but I will give you a chance to redeem yourself. Soon you'll receive an invitation to dine at the Sibley mansion this evening. During dinner, you'll slip away to steal your father's book of shadows. There are secrets in that book... Secrets you and I both need. Anne: Me? Why me? Countess Marburg: Because only you can find it. Anne: But how can I find a book I've never even seen before? Countess Marburg: Ah. Some things only need to be sought to be found. Succeed... And all will be forgiven. But fail... [ Brown Jenkins squeals ] Anne: [ Gasps ] Countess Marburg: And, well... Failure's not really an option, is it? [ Squeaking ] [ Bell tolling ] [ Indistinct conversations ] [ Horse whinnies ] [ Groaning ] Woman: Welcome back to Andover, Doctor. Collector: There's one more back here. Wainwright: Uh, he's not yet dead. Collector: Might as well be. Wainwright: Dum spiro spero... While there is breath, there is hope. [ Sighs ] My hope, that is. Man: [ Groaning ] Hear me, man. Give me your blessing. Will you sacrifice yourself so that countless others may live? Man: [ Groans weakly ] Sebastian: There are secrets you want opened, Mother. Leave them to me. There is no shell so hard I cannot find a way in... Though I believe the lovely widow Sibley, given time, will open herself willingly for me, like a rose. Countess Marburg: Yes, my dear. I'm aware that your charms are exceeded only by your self-regard. The real question is whether Mary Sibley is hiding something from us or someone is hiding it from her. Sebastian: You are indeed a sphinx, Ma'am. Whatever do you mean? Countess Marburg: Well, let us just say that I do not know if she has, in every sense, what it takes to complete what she's begun. But we may find that out tonight due to her timely invitation. Sebastian: And if she does not? What then of the lovely Mary Sibley and her Essex hive? Countess Marburg: Comme toujours, we slay them all. Mercy: At last... and you will let me do it for you, won't you? With my own hands and teeth? [ Chuckles ] Countess Marburg: [ Gasps ] Ohh! [ Chuckles ] Is she not lovely now, our Mercy? Sebastian: She's a rare bloom. Countess Marburg: A belladonna, a flowering nightshade... And must be, for Mercy will now bring the children to me so that we may go on blooming. [ Chuckles ] Sebastian: When have I ever failed you? Countess Marburg: Well, never, schatzi. Never. No, you gathered them faithfully and well since you were but a child, yourself. But time takes its toll on most. You are too old now, and the little ones fear you. Well, it embitters the blood, and it risks drawing too much attention. Now, the children will come willingly to Mercy as they once did to you. Besides, you're now ready for more challenging play. Sebastian: Mary Sibley. Mercy: Mary Sibley... What a pot of piss, pox, and poison. Countess Marburg: That may be so, my dear. But as every witch knows, piss, pox, and poison all have their use. Mary: Where do you think you are taking my son? Tituba: To the woods, where I can keep him safe from the Countess. Mary: Like you kept George safe? Tituba: I warned you not to underestimate the threat. And now you invite her here. Mary: Would you have me fight back the sea waves with a sword? Sometimes, letting the undertow carry one is the only way to escape it. Come on. Tituba: Proud Mary never learns. Mary: Oh, I have learned much from you, sister, including where not to place my trust. No one can protect my son better than I. [SCENE_BREAK] [ Indistinct conversations ] Wainwright: What ails you, Mather? Cotton: I cannot sleep. I cannot eat. I cannot read. Tell me... is love a sickness? Wainwright: [ Chuckles ] Well, love is an odd fever, one that longs for that which causes it. Cotton: Then there is no cure. Wainwright: Hmm. None that I can administer. For my part, I have found these last days staring into the riddling face of death enough to sober me. Cotton: What have you seen? Wainwright: [ Sighs ] I've been to Andover. I'm quite sure their pox was inherited from ours, and yet the victims there, they... They do not suffer with this black bile. Perhaps, as with love, this fever longs for some particular end. Cotton: For a man of science, you speak in riddles. Wainwright: Well, let's just say I have an opportunity to observe that end tonight... An experiment. Tell me, Reverend, as a doctor of the soul... Would it be a sin to sacrifice one man to save many? Cotton: The one must sacrifice himself, like Christ. Otherwise, it is not sacrifice, but murder. Wainwright: And if one murdered a man about to die, is that really a crime? Cotton: A crime, perhaps not, but a sin, no doubt. Wainwright: Ah. I can live with that. Question is, can you? Cotton: I suppose we'll find out. Wainwright: Then I will call upon you when the time is right. [ Children laughing ] Woman: Shut up! And keep spinning, or feel me mighty wrath. What are you looking at? Get back to work. [ Echoing humming ] What are you doing? Who's gonna pay for that, huh? You're gonna pay for this, you little brat! [ Slap ] Get back to work. [ Humming continues ] [ Sea gulls crying ] [ Indistinct conversations ] Countess Marburg: [ Humming ] [ Sizzling ] [ Gasps ] [ Humming ] Anna: [ Sighs ] I hate formal dinners. I wish I were an Indian. I bet they never have to dress for dinner. What do you say, Brown Jenkins? Can you make me an Indian maiden? [ Squeaks ] No? I thought not. Well, at least I would rather not enter alone. That is the worst part... When you enter a room and all eyes turn to judge. Could you bring Cotton to my door, to accompany me, with a bouquet in hand, poetry on his lips? [ Squeaks ] [ Knock on door ] [ Indistinct conversations ] Oh! Thank you! They're beautiful. Cotton: They are but a pale shadow of your own beauty. Anne: Really? Cotton: Truly. Anne: [ Sniffs ] Cotton: I hope the neighbors won't miss the flowers. [ Both chuckle ] [ Chuckles ] I've come to walk with you to Mary Sibley's. Anne: Oh. I was just thinking how lovely it would... be. When did you decide to come? Cotton: Well, to be honest, I was on my way, and the thought of you just dawned in my mind, like... like the rising sun. Anne: I'll be a few moments. Sebastian: Must I be here? You know nothing bores me quite like a supper. Countess Marburg: Whatever Mary Sibley's insidious intent... And I don't doubt her narrow, little mind has one... Tonight's dinner shall work for my purposes, too. Sebastian: How can you still doubt her, Mother? Salem is clearly well on its way to hell on earth. Oh, it takes a harder heart than hers to open the gate... A heart like mine. Had not that pious hypocrite Increase Mather stopped me... Sebastian: But he did not stop Mary Sibley. Countess Marburg: Do not set your heart on having Mary Sibley. This may turn out to be her last supper. If I find her wanting at anytime, including tonight, she may not live long enough for you to bed her, let alone love her. A toast... To our new friends in Salem... To the indefatigable Mary Sibley, and to absent friends, like dear George Sibley, resting peacefully upstairs. Let us eat and drink our fill in honor of him, exactly as he would wish. To friends. Anne: To friends. Wainwright: To friends. It's been too long, Doctor. I still remember your last visit and your palpable taste for all things elizabethan. Wainwright: Even in your fair company, I find it hard not to think of the plague that rages on while we sit and sup here. Mary: I understand, and your dedication is admirable. But we are here, and we must eat. Would you care to carve, Doctor? Wainwright: Is that the role you wish for me... The Fiddler at Rome's pyre? Sebastian: I heard you were a true physician, but you are rude as a barber surgeon. Where are your manners? Wainwright: I must have misplaced them. Perhaps in the same dark cabinet where you keep your morals. Mary: I think we can all agree what a terrible thing it is that people are dying of plague while we feast off this fine China. Sebastian: Terrible. But no more terrible than life itself. The world is as it is. Wainwright: On this, at least, we agree. Mary: Are you both so certain that things cannot somehow be made fairer? Sebastian: Life was not designed to be fair. Wainwright: If it was designed at all. Mary: Hush, now, or the magistrate here will have to bring you up on charges of atheism, and it does so go against all rules of decorum to have to testify against one's dinner guest. Hathorne: [ Chuckles ] Countess Marburg: [ Chuckles ] Sebastian: Very well, then. If the good doctor will not perform for you, I am more than happy to play his role. Cotton: [ Clears throat ] Ladies and... gentlemen... [ Sighs ] If you will indulge me a moment. I have a-a question to put to miss Hale, and, um, I ask it in the sight of god and all of Salem's finest. Anne... Will you marry me? Anne: [ Gasps ] Forgive me. I... I'm quite overcome. I just need some time to compose myself. Excuse me. [ Insects chirping ] [ Indistinct conversations ] [ Distorted wailing ] [ Wailing continues ] Cotton: You dare to call yourself magistrate and treat your fellow man like that? Hathorne: Indians... Godless heathens. [ Door creaks ] There is no law against driving a hard bargain. [ Indistinct conversation in distance ] Finally, I plied them with port. [ Chuckles ] By the time the night was through, they gave me all the furs they trapped that season in exchange for two dull axes and a moth-eaten blanket. Countess Marburg: Like piggies at the trough... Little knowing how soon they will be led to the slaughter. Mary: Some of them have their uses. Countess Marburg: True enough, I suppose. Mr. Hathorne will make a fine puritan beard for us to wear... Greedy and easily manipulated... So he will live. Young Mather, on the other hand... Mary: Is harmless. Countess Marburg: Hardly. Filled with passion and ideals... There's very little more dangerous than that combination. No, he must die. So, young Mather can join his father in Hell. And, of course, the handsome Dr. Wainwright... He shall die first of all... Too fearless, too intelligent, above all, too curious. Wouldn't you agree? After all, as you'll soon learn, if you've not already, it's precisely sacrifice that fuels our work. You might say that sacrificing what we most love is the key to opening... All doors. Hathorne: Are they cultivated? No. They hunt and... [ Rattling ] Tituba: What are you doing in here? Anne: Escaping a boring dinner and a drunken fiancé. Tituba: Out. Anne: [ Sighs ] [ Door closes ] Sebastian: You must know a great deal about witchcraft, Reverend, to make such fine distinctions. Cotton: I studied the matter in college. My family is also well-versed. But I continue to read and continue to learn when I can. Hathorne: Learning. Really? [ Chuckles ] Is that what they call it these days? Tituba: Come, child. We must go. Boy: My mother said to stay inside. Tituba: Your mother does not understand the danger here. Now, come with me. Boy: No. She said I didn't have to go. I was to stay here! I want to see my mother! Tituba: Shh! There is no time. Come on. Cotton: Light and truth. Hathorne: This roast is most delicious. Anne: I quite agree. Cotton: Hathorne, would you pass the salt? Hathorne: How will such a college be paid for, Mather? Mary: That matter we discussed this morning... Removing all traces of George. Sebastian: We just did. [ Indistinct conversation ] Boy: I'm sorry. I know I was supposed to stay in my room... but I was scared. Mary: Oh, that's all right, love. We all get scared sometimes. Countess Marburg: And who is this... precious little boy? Mary: This is George's nephew. Countess Marburg: And where are his parents? Mary: Slaughtered by Indians. We have only just ransomed him back. He is unused to civilized company and most naughty for interrupting our dinner. Tell Nathaniel to take you to bed and read you a story. Countess Marburg: He is a most precious, little lamb. [ Insects chirping ] Cotton: Anne. Anne: Cotton! Cotton: I've been looking for you. Is that an answer? Anne: To what? Cotton: [ Chuckles ] W... to my proposal. Anne: Yes. Cotton: Yes? Yes. Anne: Yes. Cotton: Yes. Oh, love. Anne: [ Sighs ] [ Gasps ] No, I'm sorry, Cotton, I can't. Not like this. Wainwright: Mather? Anne: Not tonight. Wainwright: You said you wanted to be there. Well, it's time for you to protect my immortal soul. Cotton: [ Chuckles ] Goodnight, then. Anne: Good night. Tituba: We were both born free, John Alden... And both ended slaves to the same woman. John: Not me. Not anymore. Tituba: If that were true, witch hunter, Mary Sibley would be dead by now. John: What do you want from me? Tituba: For now, I am content merely to scratch an itch. But soon, when the time is right, you shall be the thing that I hold over Mary Sibley. You shall be my weapon in this witch war. Cotton: I heard rumors you perform autopsy. Wainwright: Autopsy is performed on the dead, vivisection on the living. Cotton: What you propose is a mortal sin. Wainwright: Here, take the lamp. You may say whatever words you think your God might like. Cotton: I have none for such an occasion. Wainwright: A silent clergyman... Perhaps the divine exists after all. [ Sighs ] [ Flesh tearing ] Man: [ Groans weakly ] [ Flesh tearing ] [ Hissing ] [ Both coughing ] Cotton: [ Muffled ] What in God's name? His organs have liquefied into bile. Man: [ Groaning weakly ] Wainwright: Oh. It's as though the bile consumes its victim from the inside out. [ Hissing ] [ Bubbling ] Wainwright: How far do you think it goes? Cotton: All the way to Hell. [ Indistinct conversations ] Countess Marburg: So beautiful. Sebastian: Indeed. I can still see her... Hear her golden laugh yet in my e... Countess Marburg: Not her, him... the boy. Sebastian: A poor war orphan? What of him? Countess Marburg: All my questions are answered. Mary Sibley indeed has everything she needs to complete what she has begun, but she doesn't know what it is. She's almost as dim as you. Do you know how long it's been since I saw even a glimpse of my dark lord's face? Why, the mountains themselves were young then. And now... so close. He is already inside the boy. And come the comet... We shall let him out. Sebastian: Mercy. Countess Marburg: There's a reason we use the tub for that, mercy. Mercy: Oh, I know. I'm so sorry. It was just... Oh, it was so good. Sebastian: You will be sorry, you filthy, little wretch! Countess Marburg: Children, children... It's only a little blood. Come along, Mercy. It's intoxicating, isn't it? Mercy: Mm. Countess Marburg: Oh, I was going to give her the girl anyway. Perhaps we can squeeze a few more drops out of her. I want Mercy to look her best tomorrow. Mercy: Why? What is tomorrow? Countess Marburg: Mm, tomorrow, you will fetch me a most special lamb. Mercy: [ Laughs ] [ Creaking ] [ Glass shatters ] [ Creaking ] [ Wind rushes ] Cotton: Who's there? I must be going mad. You're dead. [ Creaking ] This can't be. I killed you. What is it you want? [ Breathing heavily ] [ Screaming ]
The Beckoning Fair One