Tamsen's Dilemma

“Is this ah…” The big deputy finished his sentence, “Tamsen Ham from Dover.” “That’s the one. Well bring her along,” he said as he made his way to the open doorway and sauntered down the stone steps. While the big deputy waited in the windowless room, the deputies walked her to the open doorway. The stone steps were worn and narrow. One deputy stepped back and the other held her arm and walked her down to a lower level. Halfway down the hallway one single candle provided dim light. There were heavy doors spaced at equal intervals on each side of the long hall. They passed three doors and stopped at the fourth. The round man with the keys opened the door and stood back. One deputy unlocked her manacles and the round man shoved her through the door. Before Tamsen could turn, the heavy door slammed shut with a thud. A key turned in the heavy lock. She shuddered as the damp coolness surrounded her. In the blackness of the cell she could see almost nothing at first. She stood in the center just inside the door trying to get her bearings and rubbing her aching wrists. It was then she realized her hair was hanging loose on her shoulders. Her ribbon must have slipped off with all the moving about. She checked her cap. It was off, but still tied and laying on her back. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness she could see she was standing on a stone floor littered with straw and rushes. She noticed a barred window high on the stone wall in front of her. She felt the cool night air on her face and realized the window had no glass. Light was fading and night was coming fast. She pulled her white cap into place on her head. To her right was a board pallet, to her left in the corner was a wooden bucket. She stepped over to the pallet. The straw and rushes crunched under her feet. She sat down on the board. A tear rolled down her face. Not since the Indian attack that took Joseph had she been this scared. It had happened so fast. One moment she was finishing cleaning up afternoon tea and the next she was manacled and riding in that infernal wagon. Now she was sitting in a cell. She felt the dampness and musty acrid smell all about her. There seemed to be no sound except once in a while she heard cart noise from outside. Inside she could hear nothing. Suddenly something ran across her feet. Tamsen leaped up and scampered to the center of the cell holding her skirts up. She couldn’t see anything on the floor except the gray outlines of the straw and rushes littering the space. Then she heard it. It was a sound like the rustling of leaves. The swishing came from in the corner near the window wall. She stepped over to the pallet and sat down again. Her eyes surveyed the small space, but it was too dark now to make out anything on the floor. It was probably a mouse or a rat. She shuddered at the thought. She slid down the pallet to the wall near the door, swiveled herself around, leaned against the wall and drew her feet up. She put her hands around her knees and held her legs. After a few moments her body began to relax. The stress and the tiredness from all that had happened lapped over her like an incoming tide. She sighed and her head dropped to her chest. Then she felt it. A cold rivulet of water was sliding down her back. Wide awake, she leaned forward away from the wall. Her whole back was soaked. Swinging her feet around she put her hand on the wall. It was sweating. She moved down the pallet and shuddered with the cold wetness on her back. Sitting there she felt so tired. She swung her feet up again and lay on the pallet. She pulled her feet up, put her hand under her head and soon she drifted off to sleep. Something was on her leg. Instantly, she sat up and whatever had been there leaped off. She heard it scampering through the straw. Laying back again she assumed the same position again knowing that the four-legged visitor would be back. This on again off again went on all night. Tamsen didn’t know if she even slept after the second time the rodent walked on her. She just waited for the next invasion to be forced to sit up again and again. Thursday, August 10, 1724 Pale light filtered through the barred window. Tamsen opened her eyes. Her shoulders and hips ached from lying on the hard pallet. Her legs had gone to sleep and awakened her between times the rodent came to visit. At last she sat up and yawned. Looking down at her skirt she saw the bits of straw and dirt that covered the fabric. Higher, her doublet was littered with all sorts of grime. Filthy, she was filthy. There was no way to wash or clean herself. She just sat there. The key turned in the lock. The door swung open and a deputy dressed in black came in and stood there smacking a baton against his palm. The potbellied man appeared with a small round tray. On the tray was a small gray crockery bottle and a sliver of brown bread. He placed the tray on the floor in the middle of the cell and backed out the doorway. The deputy smirked, “Eat up missy, court will be startin’ soon.” The deputy smacked the baton a few more times and strode out. Before she could move, the heavy oak door slammed shut and the key turned in the lock. She picked up the tray and carried it to the pallet. The bread had green-blue bits of mold in the pockets of the slice. She was so hungry she took a bite. Grasping the crockery bottle, she raised it to her lips and drank. It had a stale taste but the liquid wet her dry throat. She took another bite from the bread trying to avoid the green-blue bits that nestled in the bread like tiny gobs of oil paint. She washed the bite with a sip of water. When the water hit her mouth she discovered it had lumps in it. She spit out the mouthful. On the floor were black specks. On closer inspection the specks had legs. She realized there had been black ants in the bottom of the crockery jug. She almost got sick thinking about it. A key turned in the lock and the door swung open. The big deputy came in followed by the other one who carried a baton. “Stand up missy. Time to go,” said the big deputy. Tamsen stood up, “Where am I going?” “You will see soon enough. Hold out your hands.” She did as asked and the one deputy grabbed her wrist as the manacles were snapped in place. “Off you go,” said the big deputy grasping her manacles by the chain and walking out the door almost dragging her with him. The two deputies marched her down the hallway and up the same stone steps that she had been taken down the night before. This time when they reached the top of the stairs the deputy turned and they walked through the now open archway doors toward the interior of the building. The heavy double oak doors had been opened wide. Before her was another long dark hallway. To her right was a narrow stone stair. The deputy turned toward that stair. “Up you go missy,” he said. She put her foot on the narrow stone stair and went up with one deputy leading and the other following. The stair wound around to the left and climbed steeply to the floor above. They continued past a closed door on up to an open doorway. She stepped out onto a narrow balcony. To her left was a paneled wall of dark wood. To her right was waist high panel ending with a rail. The big deputy entered directly behind her. Someone below announced, “The record shows that the prisoner Tamsen Ham has entered the court.” Tamsen blinked at the brightness and looked down. She was above several rows of seats. Beyond the seats were two tables. At the tables sat black robed gentlemen, their backs to her and wearing yellowish white wigs. In front, on a raised dais at eye level with her sat a gentleman wearing a red robe and a whiter wig. The man in the red robe was wearing silver rimmed spectacles. His elbow on the desk supported the hand stroking his chin as he read a parchment on the surface in front of him. After several moments he looked up and scanned the court room. His eyes came to rest on the big deputy standing next to Tamsen, “Deputy you were the one who executed this warrant?” “I did my lord.” “Hmmm…I note that it is signed by the Sheriff of Portsmouth.” “It was my lord,” said the deputy. Tamsen noted the men in the black robes had now turned and were looking back at the balcony. The man in red glanced at the paper and back at the deputy, “The warrant states it is for the satisfaction of a debt. Is that not so?” “I believe so my lord, yes my lord.” “Then why, pray tell is this woman…ah…Mistress Tamsen Ham in manacles?” The deputy hesitated, “Ah…my lord we were told she would flee the province if we did not take her into custody.” “And who was the individual who made such a charge?” “I believe it was the one who made the complaint to the Sheriff, my lord.” The man in red robes tapped his fingers on the desk, “I see. And deputy do you know this person’s name?” The deputy swallowed, as if something was amiss, “I do not my lord. It was not mentioned in the arrest warrant.” The fingers stopped tapping and the hand lay flat on the desk, “Well first, deputy you will remove the manacles from Mistress Ham.” “Sir?”