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‘Ah yes,’ said Will, with a smug look. ‘I know the one. Us guards had a feeling she was special, by the look of her. And special she is and bonnie. Some of them are just longing to get their hands on her, look for the Devil’s mark on her skin, strip her off and…’
Conall’s hands were hard fists, ready to smash the man’s face in, but Murray held up his hand to stay his anger.
Will continued, oblivious to Conall’s disgust. ‘Murray, they say that one is a witch, and if she is, well, she doesn’t need my help. She needs the Almighty’s. Them as is accused, they never set free. It’s always hanging or burning. The bitch is done for.’
Conall grabbed Will hard by the collar. ‘She’s no witch, and you will listen to what Murray has to say because, if you don’t help us, he’s not the one you have to worry about.’
‘So she’s yours?’ said Will, smirking.
‘Easy Conall.’ Murray pushed him back down in this seat. ‘She might be set free or be found innocent by trial, but if she isn’t, we must act.’
‘Getting her out won’t be easy. I may have to kill someone.’
‘I really would prefer you didn’t do that, but if you have to, so be it.’
Will swallowed hard. ‘If we are going to talk murder and mayhem and risking my worthless neck, then I’ll be needing a bottle of whisky, not a glass.’
Many hours later, they left the tavern and arrived back at their lodgings. Duncan was already there, with a grim look on his face.
‘I failed. The justices will not drop the accusations against Kenna, said the evidence of guilt is overwhelming. She is to be tried three days from now.’
Chapter Thirty
They snatched her up out of a fitful sleep, rough hands pulling, fingers digging in. Kenna’s head swam from lack of sleep, and she could not grasp her thoughts as they dragged her out of the cell and along endless corridors. Hunger made her stomach churn. She would vomit any minute she was sure of it. Despite the cold, she felt sweat break out on her forehead.
‘Where are we going?’ she mumbled, but the words slurred out of her mouth as if a stranger spoke them. The man holding her did not reply, and now she could hear voices up ahead, many of them. They burst into a large room, which turned to uproar as she entered. People all around her pointed and shouted.
‘Witch.’
‘There she is.’
Hisses followed her progress forward to stand in front of a raised platform, on which sat a bellicose man with a sharp face, shouting at the crowd. There was a cracking sound that made her wince, again and again. ‘Quiet you rabble. I will have quiet in my court.’ Eventually, his gavel broke through, and the crowd settled to hushed whispers. The man addressed her in a voice that was simultaneously bored and irritated.
‘I am Lord James Braxfield, and I have the unhappy task of presiding over this court. You are here, Kenna Moncur, on this fifth day of July in the year of our Lord 1662, to answer to a charge of witchcraft. That you did consult with the Devil and his familiars. That you did with malice and murderous intent, cast out curses and incantations to summon Beelzebub and his demons for your own ends. That you have used your body to copulate with good men and so lead them away from God and to damnation. What have you to say?’
Kenna’s legs went from under her, and were it not for the man gripping her arm, she would have fallen. Conall had told her to be strong, but when she spoke, her voice was shaking and tiny. ‘I am Kenna Moncur no longer for I recently wed Conall Campbell of Clan Campbell of Dunslair. I am no witch. I am innocent of this charge.’
‘Your innocence is for me to judge, and as to your marriage, I have reports come to me that it was a hasty affair, that you were Campbell’s whore before you were his wife and that you induced such a marriage to happen through your use of the black arts.’
‘No, that’s not true. Please, you can’t do this. I did nothing wrong. If you fetch my husband, he will speak for me.’
‘Better to just confess your guilt, embrace God and Christ and beseech them to have mercy on your soul. It will go easier on you, and then this court can be done with you.’
‘I am innocent, and I will not confess to something I did not do.’
‘Then be quiet, woman.’
‘No, you must listen to me.’
‘Silence, or I will have you gagged,’ he bellowed. The man sighed and shook his head. ‘Very well. If you insist on wasting my time, we will continue. Bring the witness against her,’ he shouted to the courtroom. Moments later, a familiar face pushed through the crowd.
Ross Moncur did not even look at his sister as he took his place before the judge and, in words dripping with disgust, began to condemn her.
‘My name is Ross Moncur, half-brother to this woman, and I am here to tell you that she is evil.’
‘What evidence do you bring before this court?’ said Braxfield.
‘She was born evil. Kenna killed my stepmother when she clawed her way into the world, and the death of that good woman and most beloved wife took my father’s sanity and the good fortune of Clan Moncur with it. There was always something fell about her, and that is why she was shunned by most of her clansmen. Of course, my father could not drive her out, seeing as she was his child.’ His voice rose to a shout. ‘But he long held the opinion that she was not sired by him, but by the Devil himself.’
