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The village was not big, perhaps two hundred houses altogether. The houses were timber-framed with thatched roofs, and the streets were dirt-packed and muddy in places. Chickens and geese ran around, dogs barked, children ran and played, men cut firewood and carried sacks, baskets, and barrels, and women cleaned and did household chores. Wearing a rich dress but looking as dirty and disheveled as a wandering beggar, she got odd gazes from people. She ignored them and followed the sound of raised voices, praying she wouldn’t be too late.

When she reached the market square, there was a crowd. A stone church was the tallest building, its tower rising far above the simple village homes.

Some tents and stalls encircled the square, but in the center of the open space was a platform with three stocks, and David was in one of them. Her heart dropped into her feet. How she hated seeing him helpless like that, his dark-blond head poking through the hole between his hands as he looked around the crowd, his handsome face stoic and courageous.

The crowd was yelling at him and shaking their fists. They threw vegetable shavings and waste at him, and some sort of gray goo slowly crawled down his hair and face. Anna’s fists clenched. He didn’t deserve this. Mayhap he was a time traveler who spoke to faeries, but even so, he hadn’t caused any harm to them. What could she do to save him?

The brown-robed priest standing next to him wore an expensive gold cross and had a gold ring on one finger. He was in his fifties, with a broad nose and a clean-shaven face, a balding head, and bushy gray eyebrows.

He raised his hand and the crowd silenced. “Men and women of Kennifar, what we have witnessed must be known to ye. This Highlander was calling for faeries at the faerie rock. We saw him give an offering.”

The crowd gasped.

“Witcher!” someone yelled and threw a chicken bone at David.

Anna wanted to hit the man.

“The common thing to do,” said the priest, “is to make the offender confess and ask for forgiveness. But first we all want to know why ye were calling for a faerie, Highlander.”

“I ken why!” yelled a woman in the crowd. “’Tis he who brought the lepers to the village!”

The crowd parted like the sea for Moses and five lepers were let into the center by the platform. Everyone formed a circle around them at least ten steps away.

“Aye, this is proof,” said another man. “At the same time as he was calling for faeries.”

David was saying something, but his words were swallowed by the uproar of the crowd.

“Why were ye trying to put a curse on the village?” yelled the priest, and the crowd’s roar died down.

David shook his head. “I didn’t put any curse on your village. Leprosy is not a curse, it’s a disease that originates from bacteria.”

Oh nae, David, this wasn’t the time for strange words and theories!

“What is bacteria?” asked the priest.

“They’re germs—tiny and invisible—and they make milk turn into cheese or mold grow on old food.”

A chicken squawking several houses down was the loudest sound for several seconds as the crowd gaped.

“So ye called the invisible demons that cause flesh to rot and cause leprosy!” shouted the priest, red-faced and shaking.

The crowd roared. Men and women surged towards the platform, still avoiding the lepers as though there was an invisible glass dome around them. People brushed past her, shoved her. The scents of smoked meat and woodsmoke mixed with the odors of sweat and fear, making her stomach turn.

“Death to the demon caster!” the villagers called.

“He cursed us!”

“Kill him!”

Rocks flew at David, and Anna watched, helpless, clenching her fists. What could she do? Most of the rocks hit the wooden stocks, but one hit him in the head, and a trickle of blood crawled down his face.

The priest raised his arms. “Calm down! Calm down, good people! Calm down.”

The crowd silenced yet again, and the priest turned to David. “Do ye swear and confess on the Bible that ye have been calling for a faerie to bring evil on the village?”

Anna’s hand shot to her throat. He was in an impossible situation. He couldn’t agree to what he didn’t do—it would mean certain death. And they’d never believe him if he told them the truth. She had to think of something! But all she could do was feel her stomach knot painfully and watch the tragedy unfolding.

“I will do no such thing,” said David. “I called the faerie for my personal reasons that have nothing to do with the village.”