Page 97 of Sins of the Highlander

Elspeth stood, her face hot with embarrassment. “I have a pair of scars from a recent crossbow wound. ’Tis no mark of the devil.”

“Such is the devil’s deceit that she might not even recognize the mark for what it is. It would have to be examined in this court in order for a determination of its origin to be made,” Father Kester piped up.

“Duly noted,” the judge said.

“The scar is in…an indelicate place, Father,” Elspeth said, sure the tips of her ears must be scarlet. If she was going to prove her innocence, she had to maintain the dignity of a noblewoman. Most women convicted of witchcraft were commoners. Her rank and birth were her best defense.

“If ye willna allow the mark to be examined, we must assume Mrs. Beaton is correct and ye have been in unholy congress with Satan,” the judge said.

“That’s no’ true,” Elspeth said.

“There’s a simple way to prove whether or no’ she’s had sexual union with the Dark One,” Father Kester said. “Lady Elspeth is unmarried. A midwife can examine her to determine if she’s yet a virgin.”

The judge nodded. “An excellent suggestion, and a determination about the nature of the mark upon her body might be made at the same time.”

“I’ve served as a midwife on many occasions,” Mrs. Beaton offered.

“In the interests of impartiality, we will find a different midwife, one with no association to this case,” the judge said. “Are ye willing to submit to examination, Lady Elspeth?”

She hadn’t intended to sit, but her knees gave way beneath her. A midwife would immediately know she was not a virgin. “No, Father,” she said softly. “There is no need.”

The room erupted with laughter and vulgar speculations. The judge once again rapped for silence, but he didn’t admonish the crowd this time.

“The court will draw its own conclusions, then, my lady,” he said.

A soft titter escaped Mrs. Beaton’s lips, and the judge silenced her with a glare. “Is there anything else you wish to add to these proceedings?”

“Aye, Father,” Mrs. Beaton said, composing her features quickly into such a somber expression, she reminded Elspeth of a blooded hound. “Elspeth Stewart was possessed of the devil in the Great Hall of Caisteal Dubh. She began spewing nonsense about death and destruction and prophesying evil upon all around her, till our laird lifted her up and carried her from the hall.”

Father Kester stood. “I can confirm that. I was in there when it happened.”

“And what’s more,” Mrs. Beaton continued, “through her dark arts, Elspeth Stewart did spirit Lord MacLaren into Caisteal Dubh and herself out again. A locked fortress, mind ye, without passing through any gate or opening made by human hands.”

“I saw her fly right over the castle walls,” Nessa piped up, and the other serving girls chimed in their support of the claim. One had seen her backlit by the full moon. Another watched while Elspeth mounted a broom and circled the castle turrets. Each of them shouted out a more fantastic variation on Elspeth’s abilities than the next.

The judge pounded his gavel for order. “In good time, ye’ll each be sworn and given a chance to unburden yourselves,” he told the nearly hysterical girls. “Mrs. Beaton, proceed.”

The day droned on. One lie after another was gleefully reported and embellished.

Elspeth’s back hurt. She stopped listening to the testimony after a while, her thoughts drifting back to Rob. If she could fly, why would she still be here? She’d have soared over the Highlands to be at his side and tend him through his illness, as he’d tended her. Part of her wished she really was a witch.

Finally the judge invited her to speak in her own defense. She swore to tell the truth and took the more comfortable witness seat, facing the assembled onlookers. She composed her hands in her lap, hoping no one could see them trembling.

“Father, allow me to address Mrs. Beaton’s testimony first,” she said. “I was able to call Hamish Murray’s name because I’d met his uncle, Angus Fletcher, whom he favors greatly. Has anyone here ever noticed that family members sometimes resemble each other, and you can name their kinsmen with a glance? That is how I was able to guess at Hamish’s name, not through magic of any means.”

A few heads nodded and she took heart.

“It has been suggested that I submit to an examination to determine my purity,” Elspeth said, willing her voice not to shake. “Since I am bound to tell the truth, I will admit that I am no longer a maiden.”

Grunts of disapproval greeted this admission.

“Unchastity is a sin,” she continued, “but one which may be forgiven. My lover was no devil. He is as human as I.”

“His name,” the judge said stonily. “So we may confirm your story.”

Elspeth’s lips clamped shut. So often in witch trials, the aim of the court was to get the accused to name their cohorts. If she named Rob, he’d be the next one condemned.

“I cannot give you his name.”