Wickedness engulfed the old country. Poisonous words dripped from the mouths of deluders disguised as moral teachers. Indeed wickedness had been taught in the children’s schools. Darkness shrouded the minds of the people until they could not be penetrated by the light of learning, and the Devil hid secrets in foreign tongues that confounded righteous souls. Some of them found a new land after journeying across a watery wilderness. Though ancient forests stood there and the trees blotted out the sun, they knew they could find out how to make the merciful light descend upon them again if they lived in a way that pleased the one who created them. So their journey was essentially one that was meant to take them from darkness to light, and all the suffering they endured in migrating to this land was for the sake of their children.

That is the story we have been told about them.

A lady was turning over the concept of darkness and light in her head as she strolled along the path back to her home, the autumn season lending itself well to contemplation. In those days, all the colonists were thin for want of grain. Her hair was coarse, and her skin dull. Her name was Mary. Mary Prudence Hutchinson, to be exact. And most of the women she knew were also named Mary, or Anne, or Elizabeth.

Surely, Mary thought, the concepts of light, truth, and goodness were inseparable. And the sun could be used to symbolize this. But the sun itself was no deity, and she was revolted by the idea that the Natives seemed to think it was.

The sun was already starting to set. Mary was shivering. The sack of books she was carrying that had been lended to her by the grammar schoolmaster on what he called matters of “practical divinity” started to feel heavier. In those books, she would find no answers to her questions on light and darkness, for they are older questions than any book. But she would read of ghosts and witches and other things that dwelt in darkness.

Before there was such a thing as day and night, there was simply a vast emptiness. Nothing could have preceded it.

Why was her home starting to feel as if it was farther away than usual?

For all her plainness, she did have one feature that no one could deny was striking. Her eyes. Grey yet blazing with a certain intensity whenever she looked upon a misbehaving child with disapproval. She was entrusted with providing reading lessons to several of them. And any child, no matter how naturally inclined to devilment, gulped in fear when she scowled at them with those terrible eyes as if he glimpsed the hellfire in them that would become his fate if he did not comply.

She came across the thicket on the outskirts of town that always made her walk faster when she saw it, for beyond it was wilderness and more wilderness and its pagan inhabitants. She knew it was a boundary that must never be crossed. And yet something made her look at it then.

No, darkness was different from nothingness. It was not empty, she realized, but pregnant with wicked forces. Her grey eyes widened in fear and her hair stood on end when something moved in the bushes. She had heard of prowling wild cats. But would one dare to come so close to town? Or had a raiding party of Natives chosen this night for their attack?

When a figure emerged, she could see that it was hooded and that it seemed to be approaching her and she shrieked and dropped her sack of books. As she turned to run away, she slipped and had an awful fall.

“Are you alright?” came a concerned voice.

It was only another settler woman, slightly younger than Mary but far more youthful in appearance, wearing a dark cloak for comfort against the chilly weather. She removed her hood so that the fallen woman could see her better, and revealed a mass of thick, curly hair.

“You! What were you — why were you stumbling about in the woods like that at a time like this?” Mary had seen this woman before, but did not know her well as she was new to the colony.

“I was seeking out salamanders. They are most active when the night is young.”

Never did Mary expect such an explanation, and she wondered if the other woman was joking. But then she was presented with a wet, slimy creature on an outstretched palm that caused her to wince in disgust.

“No thank you. I would rather not look at that thing,” she said, writhing in disgust.

“It will not harm you. There’s no need to be afraid,” said the woman with the salamander, not seeming to realize that the reaction was one of disgust rather than fear. “Well perhaps I ought to release this one, the little fellow looks terrified.” She put it down on the ground and it immediately stumbled away and hid itself under a log.

At this point, the woman who was repulsed by one of God’s creatures was still on the ground.

“Well let me help you up.” The other woman extended her hand, moved by some kind of chivalry.

“No, it’s fine,” she said. She got to her feet and dusted off her skirt. The unruly salamander-seeking woman, with her tangled mass of hair and no profitable motive whatsoever for going after the slimy creatures in the dark was really starting to get on her nerves. She was also very embarrassed by the discomposed state she had been seen in by her, and this made her even more resentful as well as self-conscious. She certainly did not want to touch the slime-covered hand, and did not like anyone knowing what she hated admitting even to herself: she was afraid of the dark.

“I am Mary Prudence Hutchinson, Reverend Matthew’s daughter. I am involved in some church affairs, and in giving reading lessons to the local children,” she finally offered, breaking the awkward silence.

“I’m Primrose Remembrance Kingsbury. I have only been in the colony for a few weeks, and I am currently employed as a milkmaid. It must be fun teaching the children!”

Mary smiled politely, and asked God to keep her thoughts pure so that she would not unjustly hate this woman simply because of her annoying mannerisms and uncouth appearance.

“It is hard work. It is not enough to teach them to read and write. They need to be taught virtue, so that they may better serve God once they discover their calling and are employed in various professions. And some, I hope, will go on to study Latin at the grammar school in Boston, and perhaps to Harvard college later on.”

“I think farming is an honorable calling, and I am glad to be a milkmaid. Anything that involves animals is good work to me,” said Primrose.

Mary had something else to ask. “Pardon me, but your middle name strikes me as unusual. Why Remembrance? I do not really think of it as a virtue.”

“My parents always wanted to attempt a voyage to the New World, but when they had me they wished that I would always remember England.”

Mary, who had no fond nostalgia for Old England, did not like this idea. Such sentiments would prevent establishing a new society here, a truly godly commonwealth where all would be able to reach their full potential.

“Well, I must return to the farmstead now. But I suppose I will see you at church next time I decide to go. I’m not the best at attending regularly.”

Of course she isn’t, Mary thought. Look at her.

“Good evening, Mary.”

“Yes, God be with you, Primrose.”

Primrose’s destination was in the opposite direction as Mary’s, and so the two naturally separated from each other.

Mary was relieved that the interaction had ended. She kept replaying the embarrassing incident in her mind. This milkmaid, Primrose, fresh off the ship from England, had heard her shriek in fright and had seen her fall over. All because she was scared of the dark and thought there might be a wild creature lurking there, something deadlier than a salamander.