Page 52 of A Temptress in Tartan

Lachlan recoiled as if the reality of his situation had slapped him in the face. He stiffened beneath her and shifted away from her. “That is very kind of you, Your Grace. I only hope your efforts have an impact on those gathered in the tribunal chamber.”

The king’s gaze returned to them, then shifted away almost as quickly again. “I shall give you a few minutes to compose yourselves. I shall wait outside.” And with that he was gone, shutting the door behind him.

Silence filled the space between them as her declaration of love gave way to fear. She had finally found a purpose for her life alongside a man she loved, whom she treasured above all else, even family loyalty. But loving him also made her more vulnerable than she had been since the death of her mother. And the very serious threat upon his life suddenly tormented her with uncertainty.

What would she do if they found him guilty of sorcery? Elizabeth felt a cold chill in the hollow of her spine. Could they bribe the guard to look the other way now before the trial even started?

“Let us escape from here. Right now. This very moment. We could make a life for ourselves somewhere else.”

“The king is right outside our door. I doubt he would be so kind as to release me since he hasn’t up to this point. Besides, where would we go that he couldn’t find us?” His eyes held a sadness that made her throat tighten. “But perhaps it is best if you return to Whittingehame. There is no need for you to suffer alongside me when the trial begins.”

The air in the chamber was suddenly still, making it hard to breathe. “I cannot go. I will not. Our future is bound together.”

His arms went around her and he pulled her close to his chest. She could feel the strength and warmth wrap around her for a long moment before he released her. “The king is not a patient man. And if you will not leave me, then we had best prepare ourselves for the day.”

As he stood and moved to retrieve his clothing from the floor where it had fallen in their haste for each other yesterday, she said, “I believe in your innocence.”

“Thank you,” he said, his voice rough as he dressed.

Elizabeth took an extra moment to pin her hair up as was proper for a married lady. She readily accepted her status and was more than ready to demonstrate to the world that fact. When they had both finished dressing and prepared themselves for what lay ahead, Elizabeth held out her hand to her husband. He wrapped his fingers around hers and she hoped he could feel the love and support she extended to him without words.

The time was near. They would both meet this moment with courage and dignity. “Are you ready?” she asked.

Lachlan nodded. And together they proceeded toward whatever their future held in store.

Chapter Eighteen

Elizabeth would not leave him. Pain. Joy. Regret. The emotions tumbled through Lachlan in a wild cataract of feeling as he stood at the front of the narrow and long room in Berwick’s Old Parish church where his tribunal was about to begin. Numerous candles on the walls, windowsills, and magistrates’ table spread a somber yellow glow about the room.

The guards had replaced his chains the moment he’d stepped outside Haddington Tower. The manacles rattled and clanked with every shift of his body as he stood before the magistrates. The five men dressed in scarlet robes and white wigs who were to determine his fate sat across from him: King James; John Swinton; Hugh Godfrey, the minister; the Lord Advocate, John Skene; and Lachlan’s own cousin, Reid. How his cousin had convinced the king to allow him on the panel, Lachlan was not certain, but he was grateful to have at least one vote of support among those who would decide his fate.

The gallery in the tribunal chamber was filled with faces he recognized and some he did not. In the front row stood Lucy and Elizabeth, his cousin Quinn, Cameron Sinclair, Malcolm Hamilton, Alexander Ross, and Rhys Elliot. Behind them were the fishermen they had rescued from the Firth of Forth, including Thomas Cockburn. Also present were Roland Carswell, the innkeepers from the Cairn Inn and the Buckhaven Inn, Bessie Broun, Meg and Jane Wenham, Mariam Swinton. And set off to the side was a birdcage harboring a thin, black cat. The animal turned round and round in the small space, with regular frequency letting out a mew of displeasure at being held.

They were all there. All of those whom he and Elizabeth had encountered on their journey to Whittingehame from Falkland Palace. The people who might help him prove his innocence.

Then, in the very back of the chamber stood Donald and Keddy Ruthven, as well as four others from their clan. In between the witnesses and the Ruthvens, many of the Haddington and Berwick townspeople had come to watch this latest spectacle in King James’s hunt for witches and sorcerers.

“Let us proceed,” the Lord Advocate said, his deep voice rising above the noise in the chamber.

The room suddenly went quiet and the air, too, felt as though it had ceased when not even the slightest breath of the wind stirred within the chamber.

“Lachlan Douglas, you are charged with multiple counts of sorcery.” From the heavy record book upon the magistrates’ table he read the four remaining charges against Lachlan. The fifth had been dropped after Elizabeth’s examination, as promised. “We have several depositions on record that support the charges against you.” He paused in his reading and looked up. “How does the accused plead?”

“Not guilty,” Lachlan said without hesitation.

“Witch! Witch! You are impudent. You lie!” came shouts from the back of the chamber.

“Silence,” the Lord Advocate demanded. “We shall proceed through the charges against you one by one.” He cleared his throat and read: “You gave a potion to Bessie Broun of the Buckhaven Inn that sent her into convulsions as though she was possessed by demons. Witnesses saw you use magical chants to calm her.” He looked directly at Lachlan. “Do you admit this is true?”

“Nay. What is true is that the morning after my wife and I arrived at Buckhaven Inn, I came downstairs and found Mistress Broun collapsed upon a table. She was unresponsive and when I placed a hand on her forehead, she was feverish. I then asked Jane Wenham to help me prepare a tonic of elderflower and peppermint that is known by many healers to reduce a fever.”

“Are you stating you are a healer?” the Lord Advocate asked.

“Nay. But I know a very qualified healer who once served in the king’s court.” At Lachlan’s reference to his cousin Vivian both Quinn and King James paled. Lachlan had to admit he did not himself have the knowledge to heal, but he would never reveal Vivian’s name to the court. To do so might endanger his cousin after she had already suffered so much.

The Lord Advocate continued. “You forced this ‘tonic’ down the woman’s throat?”

“I encouraged her to drink it. There was no force involved.”