01x03 - In Vain

Previously on "Salem"...

John: Isaac?

Isaac: Isaac, the fornicator. Coming home to Salem to get out of the war is like jumping in the ocean to get out of the rain.

Isaac: You can't leave Salem just yet. Something you've got to see.

Mr. Hale: Someone broke our circle.

Mary: Who saw us?

Mr. Hale: I do not know.

Mary: I waited for you. Years and years.

John: Come with me.

Mary: I can't. It's impossible.

Tituba: The grand rite has begun, and the earth cries out for innocent blood.

Mary: I know well my duties.

George: [Grunts] The only thing that keeps me alive is the look on your face when John Alden finds out what you really are.

Bridget: [Screaming]

Anne: Father, you know Bridget. How could you think her guilty of this?

Mr. Hale: It isn't a matter of what I think. What a mess you've made of things.

Bridget: [Gasping]

Anne: [Sobbing]

Mary: I don't want you here.

John: I almost believe you.

[Insects chirping]

Cotton: You're so beautiful.

"Fear no man's war, for only a war from hell could destroy Salem."

The devil was never going to let a promised land be built here without a battle.

Mary: Do you know what killed nearly every woman buried here? Love.

Cotton: And witches armed with deadly malice...

Mary: Most died in childbirth. So love is to a woman...

Cotton: Are the most malignant and insidious weapons in that battle...

Mary: What war is to a man.

The most deadly thing, they'll do.

Cotton: That war for the body and the soul of a nation.

Mary: Only a fool runs quickly to war...

Cotton: Imagine a foe you can't see...

Mary: Or love.

Cotton: Armed with weapons unknown...

Mary: I can teach you...

Cotton: And the ability to appear as anyone.

Mary: About life and death and many things in between.

Anne: Stop it! Just stop it! Stop.

Cotton: Shh.

Judge not, lest ye be judged.


[Water splashes]

[Indistinct shouting]

["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 ♪

[indistinct shouting]

Man: Burn in hell!

[Shouting continues]

Woman: Sin!

Isaac: Be assured, Mrs. Bridget... ones that are weepin' far outnumber the ones that might spit or curse.

Man: Burn in hell! Burn!

[Indistinct shouting]

Tituba: You would do well to pay that boy extra to take them bodies a more circuitous route.

Mary: Spectacle is fuel for our fire.

Tituba: And doubt is indulged by the rich and spoiled only.

Mind that you was born neither.

Woman: "Give me to die with thee that I may rise to a new life,

"for I wish to be as dead and buried to sin, to selfishness..."

Mary: By all means, Reverend... do not offer prayer or comfort or words of encouragement.

No, stand as a bewildered statue amongst the people of Salem and offer them absolutely nothing.

Cotton: What would you have me do?

Mary: What I brought you here to do.

Guide and support us in our great hour of need.

Warm our hearts with your words of wisdom.

Assure us it is God's will we do in ferreting out the devil.

Or at the very, very least...


Mr. Hale: Tragic day.

Mary: Tragic but necessary.

Mr. Hale: Tragically necessary.

Surely, the grieving of the masses gives you pause.

Mary: Most spit and curse while summoning the burning flames of hell.

Mr. Hale: There are also those who weep for her and find her hanging unfounded.

Mary: Not enough to divert our intentions.

A panic's success relies on its escalation.

The grand rite has begun.

We look to our next victim.

Mr. Hale: And that I disagree, that I strenuously and most vehemently oppose means nothing to you?

We were seen at our sabbat.

And you throw caution to the wind.

Mary: And have you identified who saw us?

Perhaps your disagreements and vehement opposition might hold more weight if you could be relied on to complete a simple task.

Good day, Hale.

[Indistinct shouting]

Cotton: What must I do to be saved?

It is impossible to ask a more weighty question.

Lest we perish eternally.

John: How's it feel?

Cotton: How does what feel?

John: Killing two innocents in as many days.

Cotton: The evidence against Miss bishop... woman: The orphanage! Help! They're looting the orphanage!

[Glass shatters]

Anne: Get out!

It's not yours!

[Baby crying]

Get John: Next one's to your head.

[Children crying]

Are you okay?

Anne: It's awful. It's too awful.

Mr. Hale: W-what's happened?

John: Thieves have come to ransack the orphanage now that the town sees fit to hang its guardian.

Mr. Hale: Easy, son.

John: This is what comes of your witch panic.

Mr. Hale: Are you all right?

Anne: This is your fault! And his.

Mr. Hale: [Sighs] Forgive her. She's distraught.

Anne: I'm right!

See me home.

Mr. Hale: Captain, if you wouldn't mind, hmm?

John: Yes. Of course.

Anne: Where have they taken her?

John: Foul spot where they rest the unwanted.

Anne: Is it very terrible?

John: Yes.

[Bell tolling]

Anne: Thank you...

For your heroism and your candor.

[Horse whinnies]

[Door opens]

Petrus: [Laughs] Welcome, welcome, welcome!

A cup of tea?

A touch of port?

Mr. Hale: No time.

Who saw us in the woods?

Petrus: It was... He who is marked.

He of the "F" that furrows his brow.

Mr. Hale: Isaac?

Petrus: The fornicator.

Mr. Hale: The idiot.

Petrus: One more thing.

Isaac was not alone.

Mr. Hale: Who else was with him?

Petrus: I don't know.

I could not make out the face.

Mr. Hale: You don't know.

What good are you?

A seer who can't see.

Petrus: It's not an exact art.

Mr. Hale: Evidently not.

Petrus: [Chuckles]

John: Hello?

[Metal scraping]

[Crow caws]


[Dog growling]



[Breathing heavily]

John: What the hell was that place?

Mr. Hale: The shack belongs to Petrus, an expert on creatures both feral and otherwise.

John: Yeah, well, they looked dead... Until they didn't.

Mr. Hale: No dead animal could threaten a storied soldier such as yourself, Captain.

John: It could, if powered by forces we don't understand.

Mr. Hale: Such as?

John: Witchcraft.

Mr. Hale: Nonsense.

John: Is it?

You know him well, this Petrus?

Mr. Hale: You'll find no man more ordinary than Petrus.

To say that he's mundane is to overstate his passion.

John: And what ordinary task brought you deep into the forest to seek his mundane counsel?

Mr. Hale: Easy, son...

Or I might suspect your presence here as more than a coincidence, that, perhaps, for reasons of your own about which I'm sure you'd rather I not inquire, you might have followed me here.

And what a shame...

To have suspicion overtake the grace I owe for the kindness you showed my daughter.

John: Consider it repaid.

Mr. Hale: Right.

George: [Gagging]

Mary: George, really.

[Scoffs] You are worse than a child.

George: [Groans]

Mary: He serves at my behest, not yours.

He won't come out for you.


There, there, little man.

Oh, pay the beast no mind.

Rest now, and I'll see to your feeding later.

Tituba: Isaac's brung the master's potions.

Mary: Tell him to wait.


Ohh, George.

Your nightdress thoroughly drenched in sick.

Stew in that for the day, my sweet.

George: [Gurgles]

Isaac: For Mr. Sibley.

Mary: Oh, and not a moment too soon.

Just now, he suffered a fit of sorts.

Isaac: If you don't mind me saying so, ma'am, it's a burden you've took on... a burden and load, carried out without cry or complaint.

Mary: My burdens can't compare to that of Salem itself.

How do you find the spirits on the square?

Isaac: Low, ma'am. Awful low.

Mary: Perhaps there is solace to be found in remembrance of times when we've both shouldered worse.

Who could have imagined that a single night could have consequence for so many?

Not all scars can be seen.

But they exist nonetheless.

Isaac: Next morning, she was gone.

Run away and disappeared.

Mary: Oh, your sweet Abby.

Isaac: I'll admit to wondering on occasion what it might be like to one day see her again or know of her or hear her fate.

Would it be better or so much worse?

Mary: I can assure you, Isaac... if you were to see her again, you would find those feelings buried too deeply for hope of resurrection.

Good afternoon, Isaac.

Isaac: G'day, ma'am.

[Indistinct conversations]



[Insects buzzing]

What is that?

What is that? What are you... what are you doing?

Please. Please.

[Muffled screaming]


[Breathing heavily]

Pigman: What did you see in the woods?

Isaac: [Screams]

Pigman: We knew you weren't alone.

Woman: We know!

We know! We know!

Isaac: [Cries]

Woman: Who was there?! Who was there?!

Isaac: I was alone!

I was alone!

Mr. Hale: Get it all.

Want no trace of our efforts.

The fault must lie with him alone.

[Crow caws]

And put these in his pockets.

If he's to be found a witch, the good reverend will require proof... evidence to seal his fate, hmm?

What is it?

Is this sympathy that I'm sensing?

One outcast to the other?

Is that what you feel, you decrepit deformity?

Ghoul: Mary!

Mr. Hale: So now even you would question me?

Do as you're told!

Does your great Mary know what it is to watch witches burn?

Nothing of the old ways while she's whipping us toward the new.

A spell of vitae cupido, and then we send him to the one place in town that will certainly deny him entrance.

That should get their attention.

Gloriana: [Sniffles]

Cotton: You're crying.

Gloriana: [Chuckling] I'm not.

Cotton: You are.

What's wrong?

Gloriana: If they can hang a woman like Miss bishop, what does that mean for someone like me?

Cotton: Nothing is going to happen to you.

Gloriana: How can you be so sure?

Just yesterday, it was me that they put before the Lewis girl.

Would you have come forward had I been accused?

Cotton: I follow every protocol.

I adhere to every letter of what my father taught me.

No one is convicted without incontrovertible evidence.

Gloriana: So you're certain Miss bishop was a witch?

Cotton: I am certain...

Of the evidence.

Gloriana: Why do you do it?

Cotton: Why?

Gloriana: Is it that you believe that you're doing good?

Or is it that you wish to please your father?

[Screaming, glass shattering]

Gloriana: It's Isaac! He's mad!

[Glass shatters]

[Screaming continues]

Cotton: I can't be seen here.

Isaac: [Laughs] Let me touch you!

[Women screaming]

Get up!

Woman: Isaac, no!

Isaac: Ha ha! Ah ha ha!

[Women screaming]

Isaac: [Laughing maniacally]

[Isaac screaming]

Gloriana: Isaac, what are you doing?

Isaac: What do you see?!

Cotton: Isaac!

Isaac: Oh, there you are!

Cotton: Isaac!

[Women screaming]

Isaac: Isaac the fornicator! Isaac the fornicator!

Hide your wives! Hide all your sheep!

Isaac the fornicator will get them when they sleep!

Isaac the fornicator!

Hide your wives! Hide your wives!

Hide all your sheep!

Isaac the fornicator! Hide your wives!

John: Isaac!

Isaac: Hide your sheep. Isaac the fornicator.

John: Stop! Isaac!

Isaac: Jonathan, it's no good. It's no good!

John: What is no good?

Isaac: They saw us. They saw us.

They saw us in the woods. They saw us.

They saw us in the woods. They saw us.

John: Shut up.

Mr. Hale: Take him to the jail.

Isaac: They saw us in the woods.

They saw us.

John: Shh.

Mary: Magistrate.

Mr. Hale: Mrs. Sibley.

Mary: What have you done?

Mr. Hale: The idiot saw us in the woods.

Mary: Isaac.

So, you did this without consent?

Mr. Hale: He wasn't alone.

We'll find out who was with him, and he will burn.

Mary: No, you will do nothing further.

Mr. Hale: But...

Mary: Nothing!

Go home, Magistrate.

You reek of the woods.

[Horse neighs]

Find me Rose.

Isaac: [Groans]

John: A drunken romp, that's all... a young man's prerogative.

Cotton: And yet no smell of spirits on him.

John: Oh, well, burn him, then. Why wait?

Cotton: If he was spelled, he's blameless in his actions.

John: Yet you still hold him. Why?

Cotton: Found on his person.

Likely stolen to cast a spell on its owner.

John: One minute, he's speller. The next, he's bewitched.

Make up your mind, Reverend.

Is he a witch or a victim of the craft?

Cotton: Chief ingredient of a witch's brew.

John: Isaac took me into those woods.

He risked his life to show me the witches.

Why, if he was one?

Lamb: I've, uh, administrated a tonic that'll settle him down and, uh, end the fits.

Cotton: What is your surgeon's opinion of the boy's condition?

Lamb: I can't say for sure as to cause or source, but going by his babble, that boy is good and touched.

Mr. Hale: Every benefit of the doubt, every Avenue explored. The boy is one of our own. Outcast and shunned as he may be, he still resides in the bosom of Salem. I'll, uh... I'll speak with him personally.

Lamb: [Laughs] Not tonight, you won't.

Mr. Hale: And why not?

John: Lamb gave Isaac a tonic to help him sleep.

[Horse neighs]

Cotton: Probably best, Magistrate, to return in the morning.

John: Yes, Magistrate. You can have your personal talk with him then.

Mary: Rose, absent the magistrate, what chance have I of harnessing the body's allegiance?

Rose: [Sighs] The others are split between old and new. Difficult to predict the outcome of such a divide.

Mary: You're old and yet somehow not governed by this fear.

Rose: It is not age that divides us, but ambition.

Mary: [Chuckles] Well, he's not without ambition.

Rose: It chafes him to bend to a woman, but he does so that our greater purpose may live.

Mary: It was to be me that led us.

Rose: It was and it is.

Mary: Questioned and challenged at every turn, each and every decision soliciting doubt and scrutiny.

Rose: Much as we may wish it, primacy does not live in the abyss.

Mary: It cannot have all been in vain.

Rose: Sibley.

Your baby.

Mary: It cannot have all been in vain.

This life, my...

Rose: Choices.

Mary: Was there a choice?

Or was choice taken from me?

Rose: It's too late now to think of such things.

Mary: Is it?

Rose: It mustn't have been easy seeing him again.

It is yours to decide, my girl, what is in vain and what is not.

Mary: And you will stand behind my decision?

Rose: Up to a point.

Mary: Hmm.

Rose: The magister's roots are old.

He has seen much and suffered greatly.

Do not underestimate him.

[Thunder rumbles]

John: Mrs. Sibley.

Mary: Captain Alden.

John: Isaac is not a witch.

You do nothing, he'll be hung for one.

We have to stop this.

There's nothing left in you.

No feelings, no heart.

You're not the girl I once knew.

Mary: Have they questioned him?

John: No.

That's because he was given a sleeping tonic.

Mary: So he's said nothing.

John: Nothing.

But Cotton is eager, and the magistrate was hard to turn away.

Mary: Hale? Was there?

John: He came straight to question him.

Mary: You have my complete allegiance.

[Horse neighs]

Cotton: "Our opportunities to do good are our talents."

My father said that.

The great increase Mather.

To stay impartial, to weigh without bias... is this the good I am meant to do?

I don't want your life in my hands.

Half of Salem takes you for a fool.

The rest dismiss you as a pervert.

Am I mad to think I saw something in you?

Something of a man?

And just the sort Salem needs to fight the devil.

[Thunder rumbles]

Abigail: [Echoing] Isaac, Isaac. Isaac, Isaac.

Oh, sweet Isaac.

Isaac: Abby? [Laughs]


Abigail: Isaac.

Isaac: How did you...

Abigail: Shh. My sweet.

Tell me... who was with you in the woods?

Isaac: Who was what?

Abigail: The other night. Who was with you?

Mary: Who was with you, my sweet Isaac?

Abigail: Who was with you, my love?

No one can hear us.

If you love me, you'll tell me.

Isaac: I can't.

Abigail: Tell me, and we'll be together again, just like we were.

Isaac: [Sighs]

I can't.

Abigail: You can.

Isaac: I can't.

Cotton: You can't what?

Abigail: You can. It's okay.

Who was with you, my love?

Isaac: It was John Alden.

[Door opens]

[Door closes]

Mary: Good morning, Magistrate.

Mr. Hale: Good morning, Mrs. Sibley.

What an unforeseen delight.

Will you join me in some coffee?

W-we've been experimenting with a new Brazilian brew.

Mary: May we speak?

Mr. Hale: The ladies are at prayer.

Mary: He was alone... Isaac.

Mr. Hale: You questioned him? How?

Mary: He was alone in the woods.

And that ends this persecution.

Mr. Hale: And you're absolutely certain that Isaac was telling the truth?

Mary: The circumstances were such that a lie would not...

could not... cross his lips.

Mr. Hale: Well, then, that leaves nothing but to task the selectmen to a vote and hang the boy for witchcraft.

Mary: No.

Mr. Hale: Salem will be no poorer for one less nitwit.

Mary: No.

Mr. Hale: [Sighs]

We will never truly know what he saw, and what he saw could get us all killed.

Mary: I can control Isaac.

Mr. Hale: And what of the grand rite?

You wanted another victim, and now you have one.

Tick-tock, Mrs. Sibley. The next moon fast approaches.

Mary: I will not let this happen.

Mr. Hale: You're powerless to stop it.

The council will rule overwhelmingly against it.

Mary: You will not do this! [Plate rattles]

Mr. Hale: It can only be sentiment that's stopping you.

Such raw emotion.

It makes you vulnerable.

Don't let it cloud your purpose.

He has to go.

Anne: Mrs. Sibley.

Mary: Good morning, Anne.

Isaac: They ain't mine.

I've said it 10 ways from Sunday!

Cotton: Then how did they come to be on your person?

Isaac: I don't know. The pigman must have put them on me.

Or that blasted specter from the crags.

Cotton: The pigman?

Isaac: He saw us that night in the woods.

That's why they're doing this to me.

Don't you see? They know I seen something.

[Horse neighs]


Cotton: What else do you remember?

Isaac: From the woods?

Cotton: No.

From the other night.

At... at the rod?

Isaac: The whorehouse?

Nothing. I-I-I don't remember anything.

I told you...

Mary: Captain, a word.

Magistrate Hale will be here soon for Isaac.

He's prepared to force a vote and hang him.

You will stop him.

John: How?

Mary: Any way you must.

Mr. Hale: Well, the business of Salem awaits no man.

Anne: I know what you're doing, and I hate you for it.

Mrs. Hale: Unacceptable language.

Utterly and completely horrid sentiment.

Anne: My friend is dead.

And you rush out to kill another.

Mr. Hale: Darling, you must understand...

Anne: Even Mary Sibley, with whom I share not a single common opinion, finds your actions vile!

Mr. Hale: And just how much of my conversation did you feel yourself entitled to?

Anne: Enough to know that this persecution of Isaac is folly!

Will you kill another, father?

Is that the "business" you're so eager to attend to?

Mr. Hale: Everything I do, I do for this family...

For its well-being and for the greater good of this town.

[Door opens]

[Door closes]

Anne: What?

No "how dare you?" Or "mind your elders"?

Mrs. Hale: For once, my daughter, I agree with you.

Anne: You do?

Mrs. Hale: But if I were you, I'd find an Avenue around your distaste for Mrs. Sibley in order to absorb her manners and ways.

Anne: She's despicable. I could never be like her.

Mrs. Hale: She is a woman who has found her way to a voice.

Anne: Look how she uses it.

Mrs. Hale: You could use yours any way you like, but you have to find it first, unless you want to spend the rest of your life shouting at your father...

Or... Your husband.

Cotton: What did Mrs. Sibley require?

John: Are you convinced of Isaac's innocence or guilt?

Cotton: I am not convinced of either.

John: Then stay the hell out of my way.

Mr. Hale: We shall take the boy to trial.

John: That path leads to the gallows.

Mr. Hale: It's in no one man's hands.

John: Really? Whose hands is it in?

Mr. Hale: God's, of course.

John: No.

Mr. Hale: Need I remind you, son, that you are impeding the very same man who only yesterday was your savior?

John: Yeah. That was yesterday.

You want Isaac today...

You got to go through me.

Mr. Hale: The great John Alden disappears for a decade and then dares to come back and dictate how to run our town?

Take him.


Tituba: He is not worth this Isaac.

Mary: This has nothing to do with Isaac.

Tituba: I know. Which means it has to do with John Alden.

Mary: The Magistrate will learn who leads us, and he will accept it.

Tituba: Or?

[Snake hisses]




John: [Grunting]

Cotton: Help him.

Isaac: [Screams]

Messenger: Magistrate Hale, your daughter!

Mr. Hale: Stop! Get him back in the cell!

Stop! Stop!

Get him back in the cell!

What? What's happened?

Isaac: [Grunting]

Lamb: Has she et something strange from the garden or the woods?

Mrs. Hale: No.

Lamb: Was she bit by an insect or a critter?

Mrs. Hale: No, no! Please!

Mr. Hale: What's happened?

Mrs. Hale: She... she can't breathe!

Mr. Hale: For God's sakes, man, do something!

Lamb: She is beyond my arts.

[Anne choking]

Mrs. Hale: Where...

[door opens]

Mr. Hale: Stop it! Make it stop!

Mary: Magistrate, good afternoon.

Mr. Hale: I beg of you. Isaac can go free, whatever you want.

Just make it stop.

Mary: You will not question him.

Mr. Hale: No.

Mary: You will get out of my way.

You will let me lead without further interference.

I will choose who lives and who dies.

Mr. Hale: Yes, yes. Help her.

Mary: You see, Magistrate, I've lost everything in this town that I ever cared for.

You, however, you have everything left to lose...

a sentiment that makes you vulnerable.

Mr. Hale: [Sighs]

Please. My daughter.

My daughter.

[Indistinct conversations]

Mrs. Hale: She's improved.

Mr. Hale: [Sighs]

I never understood it before... how my parents could send me away.

What could be worse than being apart?

Certainly not death.

Now I know a parent will do anything for the life of their child.

Mrs. Hale: What did you do?

Anne: What happened?

Mr. Hale: It's all right, darling.

Everything's going to be all right.


[John groans]

Cotton: A confession...

I've thought, on occasion, my character might've been improved by the infrequent tussle.

John: Oh, yeah.

Beating's done you a world of good.

Why did you help me?

Cotton: Even God demands a fair fight.

Mr. Hale: Gentlemen.

The selectmen and I feel, in this particular case, that a trial and a vote will be unnecessary.

Clearly, the lad was drunk.

We are willing to let him go and drop charges.

Unless, of course, the Reverend feels otherwise.

Cotton: A drunken romp is all... a young man's prerogative.

Why don't you tell him?

John: Well...

The good folks of Salem have declared you a drunk and not a witch.

You're sprung.

Isaac: I'm free?

John: Yeah. Get the hell out of here.

Isaac: Pretty sure no one's ever stood for me before.

Makes it hard to know what to say.

You saved my life.

Cotton: Excellent news.

Isaac has been spared.

Gloriana: What? How?

Cotton: There simply wasn't the required evidence to convict.

I told you I was thorough and that the innocent...

Have no cause for alarm.

Does that not give you peace?

Gloriana: That is today, but what of the days that follow?

Cotton: We will take them as they come.

Gloriana: We will?

Cotton: I told you... no harm will come to you.

Gloriana: You can't be sure.

Cotton: I can.

Gloriana: Do you ever wonder?

Cotton: What?

Gloriana: If we could leave this place?

If we could forget Salem and its witches?

If we could have a different life?

Cotton: I believe I'm doing good.

Gloriana: I know.

And your father would be so very proud.

[Bell tolling]

Mary: Isaac has been freed?

John: Yes.

Mary: Good.

John: You should see the militia.

Mary: I'm grateful.

For Isaac.

John: Okay, then.

Mary: John... We were fortunate today, but we might not be so lucky in days to come. If you insist on staying... you must understand I cannot protect you.

George: [Gargles]