Previously on "Salem"...
We all welcome captain Alden home
from his long, long service.
You come back for one thing and one thing only.
She's Mary Sibley now.
I waited for you.
Years and years without a word.
I was captured.
If we could forget Salem and its witches.
If we could have a different life.
She can't breathe!
Make it stop.
Please. My daughter.
We call it a spectral attack...
The work of witches.
Pray for her.
Imperat tibi deus pater...
Imperat tibi deus filius...
Imperat tibi deus spiritus sanctus...
Imperat tibi majestas christi...
You must stop this.
eternum dei verbum caro factum...
Imperat sacramentum crucis...
They will hang you if they learn of this.
The witches have already taken your life.
I no longer fear the puritans claiming mine.
The wretched spirit that inhabits you must be excised.
Or else what becomes of you?
Hmm? Madness?
Death?
Do you trust me, Mercy?
Yes, father.
That I would do nothing to hurt you?
Well, of course.
Father. Father.
I cast you out, every unclean spirit...
Every satanic power...
Please! I beseech you!
every onslaught
of the infernal adversary...
In the name and in the power of our lord Jesus.
It's you that's been driven to madness!
Malleus maleficarum.
good morning.
I, uh, am here to collect a parcel incoming on that vessel.
Influenza outbreak.
Five dead.
Frigate's under quarantine.
Quarantine?
By whose order?
George Sibley.
By way of his wife, Mary Sibley.
Does a man desire
to know when he is on the precipice of his own death?
What say you, George?
Would your friend, the blacksmith,
want to know that scant hours from now,
Mercy Lewis will accuse him of witchcraft?
From which his trial and execution will swiftly follow?
Or would he favor
his waning moments be spent in ignorance?
Oh, don't pity him, George.
It is the blood of innocents like your friend
that make our grand rite possible.
Each accusation made,
each trial convened not for us, but by us.
No one the wiser to our plan
and nobody brave enough to stand in our way.
You miss them, don't you?
When I was young,
I thought them horribly sensible people.
Now...
Salem could use more like them.
I'm intruding, captain.
No, no.
I'm glad you're amongst the lmng...
So to speak.
Word was you had taken quite ill.
Indeed.
A fit that came on suddenly and without reason,
followed by a restless sleep
in which the sickness infected even my dreams.
Your dreams?
I dreamt of a doll with eyes full and black.
And when I awoke, feverish in the night's middle,
I could have sworn the doll was there, staring back at me.
Fever dreams can be quite vmd.
Except I could have sworn
that I saw my father enter in darkness
and remove the doll.
But when I asked, he laughed and assured me that...
You were dreaming.
Do you doubt my father's veracity, captain Alden?
No.
But it seems like you do.
I...
I have no doubt that he's a good man.
But lately...
What?
Had I but known you were in such safe hands,
I would have spared your mother her worry.
Magistrate.
Come along, Anne.
Let us allow captain Alden his privacy.
Have I heard you correctly?
Are you suggesting that Anne Hale is the victim of...
A spell.
Am I, too, the victim of a spell?
Or has John Alden finally declared his belief in witches?
I've seen too much to deny any longer,
making my next step obvious... Catching one.
As you know,
apprehending a witch is no easy feat.
Unless you know who they are.
Have you uncovered the conjurer who spelled Anne?
Who is it?
Tell me.
Someone in proximity to his victim.
Yes.
Whose own daughter voices her suspicions.
Magistrate Hale?
He's not who he seems.
Who amongst us is?
You?
Or I?
Who among us is unburdened by shame
or secrets that we hide from the world?
I'm reverend mather.
Is there a problem?
Well, no.
The lady and I were just discussing some business.
- Business? - Yes.
As in how much it might cost me to get down to some.
This is a reputable establishment!
It offers no place for your lechery.
- Reverend. - Reverend.
Cotton!
Pardon me.
I apologize if I've caused any offense.
Good day.
Do you know that man?
Never seen him before.
ah. Yeah.
She has arrived.
Mercy.
My dear, this is a blessing.
Truly.
And she is again well enough to breathe the fall air.
Our deepest gratitude is often saved
for what we once took for granted.
Mercy?
- What is it? - No.
No, my child. No. No.
The witch!
Who's the witch, Mercy?
Tell us! Who's the witch?
Is he the witch, Mercy?
Is he?
Mercy!
Help!
Will someone help us?
What's happened?
We've lost control.
She is no longer ours.
The hive is restless.
Some are beginning to doubt your grand vision for our kind.
Who? Give me their names.
You're missing the point, child.
Then perhaps he should make one.
Trials are preceded by accusations.
And accusations are predicated upon your control of the girl.
The hunter's moon fast approaches.
Yet the blacksmith
still blithely peddles his wares,
his blood lost to our cause.
How dare you.
Before Mary, we were not feared, but fearful,
not hunters, but prey.
And yet does her strength and vision garner your praise?
No.
Only your doubt.
The girl has been rendered frail by her circumstance.
Nothing more.
My mastery is not of issue.
This is an assurance?
She needs but a moment of rest.
After which, she will again be strong enough
to point the finger.
Yet another issue remains...
That of John Alden.
What of him?
His suspicion of me is palpable.
If she cannot abate his threat,
then I will be forced to do so myself... as I see fit.
Should you desire John Alden's trust,
I would suggest you find a way to earn it.
And, Mary...
Your vision guides us.
I will report to the others that your plan shall resume anon.
We need answers quickly.
And we will get them.
How?
The quickest way one finds answers...
Blame.
Is it your intent to rob me
of my remaining faith in you, reverend?
Mrs. Sibley. I didn't hear you arrive.
Your charge, simple and clear,
is to protect the Lewis girl from further possession.
And yet... was the episode in the marketplace
not evidence of exactly that?
We have no proof it was the work of witches.
So you've paid her a visit, then?
You've determined what ails her?
The pastor says she's resting
and best not be disturbed.
May I ask you a question, reverend?
When your father seeks out demons, does he ask permission?
Does he knock on doors
and offer to come back at a more convenient time?
Or does he, armed with the lord's righteousness,
demand the demon answer to him?
My father and I are different men.
We work in different ways.
When I summoned a hunter of witches
to protect the people of Salem, it was not you I requested.
Yet it was you who arrived on our shores.
Do not make me regret settling for my second choice.
Captain Alden.
How fortuitous.
I was just about to set this on your doorstep.
I'll spare you the mystery.
It's a reception tomorrow evening in your honor.
A reception?
No. That's not necessary.
But it is. You're a selectman now.
And, on a more personal note, a chance to make amends
for my less-than-hospitable behavior since your return.
Can we trust you'll be in attendance?
Excuse me, magistrate.
Lieutenant Hooke.
John Alden.
Now, is this any way to greet the man
who saved you from those savages?
What the hell are you doing here?
Business, captain.
There is a vessel in port on which I have cargo.
And until the quarantine is lifted,
I am marooned here in your little witch town.
We had a deal, and it was a simple one...
That I was never to set eyes on you again.
Yes. Well, you needn't worry.
We're not the same men we were in the war.
But...
There is something you could do to hasten my departure.
What is that?
The girl you spoke of in battle... Mary Wolcott.
Although she's Mary Sibley now, isn't she?
An introduction with her would certain...
You stay away from Mary.
Or what, John?
What will you do?
What I should have done last time.
Now, careful, captain.
Before a man makes threats,
he should take stock of what he risks...
Unless you do not mind me telling the good people of Salem
just who John Alden really is...
Neither the man nor the war hero he purports to be.
I want you to finish your business with all due haste,
and then by coach or by steed or by ship, I want you gone.
You have my word.
Mr. Sibley's feeding will have to wait
until I return from the reception.
Excuse me.
Mrs. Sibley.
And you are?
I'm Hooke... William Hooke.
Forgive my boldness, but I wondered
if I might speak to you of your ship detained in port.
As you've doubtless heard, it's under quarantine.
Well, 'tis no bother.
I merely mean to board the vessel and retrieve my cargo.
And risk infection? Or worse?
Well, this must be very valuable cargo, Mr. Hooke.
Sorry.
No one's permitted on board.
Well, perhaps Mr. Sibley
will be more open to reason.
I can assure you, Mr. Hooke,
my husband and I are of one mind on all matters.
Good evening.
Mercy, if you can hear me, I beseech you,
speak to me the name
of the vengeful spirit that possesses you.
Hasn't she suffered enough?
Which is why I seek to end her suffering...
By freeing her from the demon inside.
Mm.
Reverend mather?
Agrimony?
The... apothecary's suggestion.
A herb with no medicinal value.
Used historically in exorcisms.
Mm.
She wakes.
Mercy?
Can you hear me?
Yes, reverend.
She looks well.
Eyes clear.
Skin temperate to the touch.
Bless God.
My God.
What is this?
The barber bled her humors.
She hasn't sufficient time to heal.
Anne.
What a lovely surprise.
I anticipated only members of the board.
Oh, I convinced my father to let me attend.
One can't pass up the rare gathering in Salem
that doesn't involve a noose and an angry mob.
Beautiful, isn't it?
Mm.
A gift from my father.
May I?
Exquisite.
If you'll excuse me...
Ah.
And here I feared the guest of honor
wasn't going to make an appearance at his own party.
Well, I flipped a coin.
- Heads... I stay home. - And tails?
I flip again and pray for heads.
No such luck.
Well, I think you'll find that you have more common ground
with your fellow board members than you would have expected.
Oh. They think Salem's gone mad, too?
Enjoy yourself, huh?
Captain Alden.
How nice to see you amongst the lmng...
So to speak.
Valerian Root?
You've resorted to the coarse tools of the hunters.
Yes. Well, sadly,
I can no longer take the safety of my loved ones for granted.
Apparently, there are those in Salem
who are not above threatening the lives of children.
Hm.
She's no child, magistrate.
Certainly not,
judging by the way she lusts for John Alden.
Mrs. Sibley.
I came straightaway with news.
Mercy Lewis is free of her possessor.
You're certain?
My exam was thorough.
I could glean no remaining evidence of the demon inside.
How serendipitous.
Perhaps beyond good fortune.
This is evidence of the witches' waning strength
or waxing fear...
A testament to the potency of our resistance.
Forgive me, uh, reverend,
as I am but a layman in these matters,
but how did she free herself from Satan's grasp?
I detected traces of agrimony,
as well as an incision in the girl's abdomen,
leading to my supposition that an exorcism had been performed.
An exorcism?
A catholic ritual performed in Salem,
and you have the audacity to present this as good news?
Do you know what Salem abhors
even more than a witch, reverend?
A catholic.
Yet under your most watchful eye,
you've now allowed both to flourish.
When could this have happened, reverend...
When you were distracted by drink or by whores?
Mrs. Sibley...
Replacing demons with heathens is no victory.
Seems even when you succeed, reverend,
you find a way to fail.
We live in a time of war,
our enemies hidden among us.
And so there could be no better time than this
to welcome a new ally in our fight
against the dark forces that threaten our town.
Witches will be no match for a war hero.
The newest member of our board of selectmen...
Captain John Alden.
What if the witches were not the common folk?
Not those who trapped our food nor birthed our babies?
What if the witches were those we've entrusted to lead?
A member, perhaps, of our most esteemed board?
Well, I hope not, 'cause I'm one of you now.
And, together, I trust
we will end the scourge that blights this town.
Reverend mather.
I'm sorry, Gloriana...
Miss embry...
But it has been a very trying day,
and I have not yet begun to prepare tomorrow's sermon.
I simply wish to thank you...
For showing me the depth of your care
yesterday in the public house.
And so you have, miss embry.
Though I assure you that separating you
from that unsavory character was a mere act of charity.
Charity?
So, too, pity.
Pity and charity?
I'm afraid.
And it had nothing to do with feeling?
Not beyond the feeling I possess
for any of God's needy creatures...
A hungry child...
A wounded animal.
A whore?
Glori...
Miss embry, you know I detest such words.
But in the house of the lord,
there can be no deceit.
Isn't that what you preach?
That a whore is a whore?
Just as one would never say "pity"
when they meant "passion"...
"Charity" when they meant "envy."
Envy?
At the thought of another man's mouth on mine,
his body pressed against mine...
His loins enveloped in mine.
Lord, forgive her impiety.
Is that the same lord that you invoke from my bed
as you thrust in and out of me?
The same lord that you thank
as my tongue traces down your chest or up your thigh?
That same lord to which I pray
that your promise to return will never be an empty one?
Gloriana, you mustn't be here.
Or what?
What will you do here... In the house of the lord?
Cot... cot...
Cotton. Cotton. Cot...
Cot... aah.
No. Please.
Mr. Sibley.
My name is Hooke... William Hooke.
And I have cargo on your frigate detained in port.
Yet your wife refuses to lift the quarantine.
Now, whilst Mrs. Sibley's beauty is beyond dispute,
what woman truly grasps the necessities of a man's vocation?
They...
S-sir...
Has your illness rendered you deaf and dumb?
I...
I'm a bit upset with myself, captain.
Why?
I invited you to my home under false pretense.
In hoping to gain your trust,
I have clearly done the very opposite.
What's your point, magistrate?
Perhaps it would have been wiser for me
to simply tell you the truth about who and what I am.
And what's that?
A concerned father.
Three days ago, my daughter was spelled...
Or so I believe.
And yet when she asked, you...
I lied... yes.
How could I let her know that there are those out there
who wish to do her harm?
You see what they've done to the Lewis girl,
her mind no longer her own.
What if my Anne is their next target?
You and I have a common enemy...
The witches who would do my Anne and all of us harm.
And who are they?
This remains a mystery.
I must admit, uh...
I underestimated you.
Well, thank you.
You are full of far more...
Than I thought possible.
Maybe you did not spell Anne.
Maybe your explanations have been genuine.
But I don't think so.
I think you're dirty.
And once I find proof, all of Salem will, too.
He requested you, yet shows no signs of agitation.
That will change.
Breaking into my home?
Do you know what happens to thieves in Salem?
No.
But I know what happens to witches.
What's this?
Perhaps a question best asked of Mr. Sibley.
My husband's affliction
has robbed him of both reason and sense.
And yet are either actually required
to point the finger in Salem?
I care not for threats, Mr. Hooke.
And I care not to resort to them.
So, perhaps, we could avoid bringing this note
to the attention of the board of selectmen.
Grant you access to my ship
or face your most scurrilous accusations?
Fine.
At midnight, the ship's sentry will be sent home,
and you can retrieve your cargo.
Now out with you.
Does my sense betray me?
He could undo you! All of us!
And so could Mercy.
The familiar has been cut from her.
How?
An exorcism...
Performed by her dolt of a father, no doubt.
So we must replace it.
And yet why would she accept it a second time?
She wouldn't,
unless there is some part of the girl
to which we can appeal.
And what part is that?
The same part you once touched in me...
The deep, small piece of her that longs for a better life.
You must move quickly, then.
I, alone, will take charge of Mr. Hooke.
But, tituba...
These are perilous times.
No blood must lead back to our door.
Do you understand?
Perfectly.
Had I known you were a friend of John Alden's,
I would have found another courier.
I can assure you, we are not friends.
If you knew the truth of the man,
you would rethink such an accusation.
And what truth is that?
In any case, the impediment has been removed.
The package shall be yours by midnight.
You did not speak my name to her?
I did as instructed.
But, still, I can't help but wonder... this parcel...
You have been paid well not to wonder, Mr. Hooke.
Mercy.
Leave me.
I won't leave you.
I can't.
You need me.
You're a liar.
I don't need you.
When you resist me,
when you point at a demon that only you can see,
what do they do?
They shave your locks.
They weep for your wretched soul.
Go away! Go!
Without me, you are but a girl,
weak and ordinary.
But with me inside you, you are...
Omnipotent.
Hush, now.
Give them no cause to pity you.
Give them only reason to fear you.
No! No!
Open, girl.
Open your mouth.
Yes.
Just like that.
He has chosen you to be his vessel on earth.
There is no greater honor than to be in his service.
What? What?
What? What? What?
She is mine.
Tituba?
Mary is in trouble.
I am but a servant, captain,
unentitled to such an intrusion.
What is it?
I fear you and my mistress
share a common adversary...
Mr. Hooke.
How did you know that he...
I saw you quarreling in the Warren off the square.
He demands access to my mistress' ship.
Why?
To retrieve some worthless parcel, as he claims?
Or does he harbor darker intent?
He plans to rob her.
So my mistress fears.
Why did Mrs. Sibley allow him to board that vessel?
He left her no choice.
He threatened to spread false rumor of an affair...
With you, captain.
She sought to reason with him, but...
He is not a man that responds to reason.
Mrs. Sibley would lash me if she knew I had come,
but I fear Mr. Hooke will be her ruin.
Unless...
Speak, girl.
Unless there be a man who desires to stop him.
You have feelings for him, don't you?
"Him"?
Must I say his name?
Was it not obvious to all who were present this evening?
Is it not a woman's prerogative
to choose which man she fancies?
It is.
Just as it is a father's prerogative
to protect his daughter's heart
from those he feels will do it harm.
John Alden, for instance.
Why do you say this?
Because he doesn't curry your favor,
like every other twitchy young man in Salem?
No. That is not it.
How could he ever be yours truly
when he always was and always will be Mary Sibley's?
Their history is no secret.
But it is just that... history.
She is a married woman now.
And do you suppose Mary Sibley will idly stand by
while you claim that which she rightfully considers
to be her own?
You fear her, father. I do not.
You are but a child. You don't understand.
A child?
A moment ago, you agreed I was a woman.
It's not for debate.
- By whose command? - By mine!
Your father! Your lord and master!
I forbid you to have further contact with captain Alden!
Or what?
What punishment awaits me?
Will you crush the life from me, as you do your enemies?
Or just my spirit, as you do those you love?
Quiet! Not one word more!
Put it down.
No.
This parcel belongs to me.
A claim that even Mary Sibley cannot dispute.
I'm not here on her behalf.
Now put it down.
Ask yourself, captain...
Is it really worth it?
What?
The cost of settling old scores.
What would be the charge
if the magistrate knew what you did?
Murder?
Treason?
Both?
You know what happened that day.
Yes.
I watched you spill innocent blood.
Without regret or remorse.
Men slaughtered like animals.
All of them... dead.
Not all of them.
We had a deal, Mr. Hooke...
The day you fell to your knees and begged for your life
that should I let you live,
we would never cross paths again.
You didn't hold up your end.
Now, think this through, captain.
Oh, I have...
Thoroughly.
And the only life I lament that day was the one I spared.
A man should keep his promises, Mr. Hooke.
So you're... just going to slit my throat here,
like some yellow horse?
No.
Mrs. Sibley.
Sleeplessness seems to be epidemic this evening.
Do you remember the last time we spoke,
in the shadow of the graveyard?
Of course.
The promises we made?
You would return within a year.
And you would breathlessly wait.
Were they lies?
No.
They were wishes.
Made by those that knew nothing of the world.
And now?
We know.
What we desire and what we must do to survive
are often at odds.
It's, uh, late, captain.
It is.
Long past my bedtime.
I wish you sweet dreams, Mary.
Perhaps they've already begun.
I know what you are.