Page 99 of Sins of the Highlander

“I canna tell ye,” she said.

The judge rapped his gavel three times. “Then it is the judgment of this court that Elspeth Stewart is guilty of consorting with the Evil One. The accused will stand while I pronounce sentence.”

The air fled from her lungs, but she managed to rise to her feet.

“All sin is an affront to God, but the sin of witchcraft is especially heinous and requires purification by fire,” the judge said with a self-righteous gleam in his eyes. “In two days’ time at the setting of the sun, before God and a company of assembled witnesses, ye shall receive your purification.”

Chapter 34

Word of Elspeth Stewart’s witch trial spread over the Highlands on swift, dark wings. Folk left their hearths, braving the possibility of being caught in snow, for the chance to watch her burn. Those who witnessed the witch burning would retell the story all winter long. Their flagon would remain full, and they’d never have to buy a drop of their own ale. Rob and Hamish fell in with a merry party on their way to Drummond’s castle.

“Why didna Lord Stewart lead a party of men against Lord Drummond to free his daughter before it came to this?” Rob asked the fellow who seemed to be leading the group they’d met along the road. The man had provided a steady stream of details about the trial, seemed to know a good deal about the particulars, and wasn’t afraid to share his knowledge. No doubt honing his storytelling skills for later use.

“Because the Stewart’s being held by the Drummond till the burning’s over. He canna send word for help,” the fellow said. His few teeth were yellow as gourds. “They say Lord Drummond has posted guards on all the roads to stop any wearing Stewart plaid, just in case.”

Rob digested this bad news in silence. He hadn’t wanted to delay his coming long enough to raise a force from Caisteal Dubh, but he’d hoped to join with Elspeth’s father and his men. Hamish had brought the new hand-held cannon he’d recently forged, but even with a fearsome weapon, two men wouldn’t be enough to project much power.

“The Lady Elspeth’s been the devil’s consort, they say,” Yellow-teeth said to no one in particular. “D’ye suppose they’ll lead her to the stake bare breasted? That’s what they do, ye ken, when a witch admits to swiving the devil.”

Rob gritted his teeth. He was the only devil who’d swived Elspeth Stewart. Imagining slicing Yellow-teeth’s head from his shoulders gave him grim satisfaction. Unfortunately, it wouldn’t help Elspeth one bit.

“Never seen a noblewoman’s tits before,” Yellow-teeth said, blissfully unaware of how close he was to decapitation. “Ought to be a fair treat.”

To remove himself from further temptation to do murder, Rob dug his heels into his horse’s flanks and left the party of burning-goers behind. As they neared Drummond’s stronghold, the roads became almost impassible. Carts carrying whole families were stuck in the mud. Using game trails, Rob and Hamish picked their way around the mess.

When they reached the open gate, Rob flipped up the hood on his cloak and pulled it closer around his face. There was nothing on his person that marked him as the laird of the Clan MacLaren. Even his horse was of ordinary quality, not worth a second glance, as he and Hamish rode into Lachlan Drummond’s stronghold with the rest of the crowd.

Everyone was required to leave their blades and bows in a pile outside the gate. Hamish kept the hand cannon, which was bound up in his cloak and strapped to the back of his saddle.

Rob gave up his longbow and dirk, but beneath his cloak, he bore the solid weight of a claymore strapped to his back in a shoulder baldric. He kept his boot knife. If he had to fight his way back out, at least he’d be armed with the means to do so.

The atmosphere was more like a fair than a burning. Enterprising merchants had set up stalls ringing the bailey to sell foodstuffs and other goods. Children scampered between the stalls, light-fingered urchins lifting a sweetmeat or two. Everyone seemed in high spirits.

But at the far end of the bailey, Rob saw the stake, already ringed with fagots. A path had been marked with ropes, leading from the stake to the tallest tower at the opposite end of the courtyard. Elspeth would walk that way to her death. His gaze swept up the tower.

A small figure stood at an unshuttered window. A woman. Her long brown hair fluttered in the breeze like a banner. The distance was too great for him to make out her features, but he knew instantly who she was.

“Oh, God. Elspeth,” he whispered. “Dinna jump, lass.”

Drummond had placed her in the tower chamber with that hope in mind, Rob was sure. He held his breath until she stepped away from the window and out of his sight. His relief was short lived.

What was one man, or even two, against so many?

“I thought I could…I dinna see what’s to be done,” Rob said, suddenly bone weary. They’d ridden without stopping, except to rest the horses, in order to make it here in time. Now he realized what Hamish had probably known all along but was too good a friend to say.

It was all for naught. There was no help coming from any quarter. All they could do was watch Elspeth die.

But he didn’t have to let her burn. A desperate plan formed in his mind. If Rob could find a longbow and stake out a position with a clear shot, he’d have one chance to put a shaft in Elspeth’s heart before the flames reached her. Then he’d bury his boot knife in his own chest. It would be a small matter. His heart would already be dead.

“I can keep her from suffering,” he said woodenly, “but…I canna save her.”

“Come, Rob,” Hamish said, his rumbling voice soft with pity. “Let’s see to stabling the horses; then we’ll see what’s what.”

When they reached the stables, Rob heard a ruckus at the rear of the structure. A pair of grooms was trying to move a black stallion into the far stall, but the horse wasn’t having any of it.

“Come, ye big bastard!” one of the men shouted, raising a whip to the beast, which only infuriated it more. “If ye dinna mind, they’ll burn ye next, I shouldn’t wonder.”

The horse lashed out with its rear hooves, and one of the grooms sailed over the rail into the next stall.