Page 56 of Much Ado About a Scot

“Was Isobel Seaton anywhere near your home on the night in question?”

He shook his head, then said, “Nay. She was at her home. She had only two days prior given birth to her son. She was still abed after a difficult birth, which was why I had invited Rory to dine with my household staff and my sister.”

“Why were you not eating with the others?”

“Because as a prisoner in my own home, I was forced to eat with the men who have told me on many occasions of their disdain for the king. They had taken over Dunbar Manor to gather their supporters and make plans to overthrow the king.”

A hushed silence fell over the chamber.

“Are those men in this chamber?”

“Aye.”

“Could you identify them for us please?”

David Graham turned to look at Francis Stewart. “Lord Bothwell, and the Earls of Montrose, Atholl, and Gowrie.”

Waves of excited conversation rippled through the chamber.

“Silence.” The Lord Advocate pounded his gavel, seeking order once more. “Continue with your questioning.”

With a scowl, King James sat forward, his gaze darting between the men who had been named.

“As they lived and moved around your estate, were you ever privy to conversations that might indicate they would do anything to achieve their goal—even eliminate a person or persons who got in their way?”

“Aye,” David Graham said firmly. “I heard the Earls of Atholl and Gowrie discuss poisoning Isobel’s husbands on the days prior to their deaths.”

A satisfied smile crossed Alan’s face. “Just to be clear, are you saying these men were responsible for killing Rory MacWilliams and Ezra Norris and not Isobel Seaton?”

David Graham’s lips thinned before he responded. “Yes, but more than that. John Ruthven, the Earl of Gowrie also murdered my beloved sister when he poisoned Rory.”

Chatter erupted among those in attendance as they looked to the Earl of Gowrie for a response. The man simply stared at something in the distance, showing no emotion at the accusation.

Once the noise settled, Alan MacGilvaine continued, “Is there anything more you would like to add about the morning of the fire?”

David Graham nodded. “I saw Gowrie, leave my home on the morning the fire started with strips of cloth, the urn our cook uses to collect her grease, and a torch. I believe he set the fire that devastated Isobel’s crops and almost cost her her family and her home. And I believe he did so at the request of this man before all of us—the Earl of Bothwell.”

The chamber erupted in chaos as everyone started talking at once. Even those at the magistrates’ table talked over each other in horrified voices.

Isobel’s gaze moved to the men who had been called out for their crimes. The three earls paled as they stared straight ahead. Bothwell, however, leaned back in his chair with a smug smile.

Over the rumble of sound, the gavel pounded furiously against the table until finally the noise died down. Beside the Lord Advocate, King James made a short, irritated sound as he stood and moved from behind the table to directly address his cousin. “Are you so filled with hatred of me that you will kill innocents to achieve your aim?”

“You are the one who has killed innocents, including the woman who claims to have been given orders by me to cast spells upon you. Without a living witness, the first three charges against me have no merit in this tribunal.”

“Agnes Sampson’s testimony is well documented in court records.”

“Yet she is not here for me to question. Confronted by the man she accused, she may have changed her testimony or dropped it altogether.”

James’s neck turned red. “You claim innocence, yet we have just heard how you pass your dastardly deeds onto others so that your hands ultimately remain clean. But they are not. They are stained with the blood of those you conscribe.”

“Are not your hands thusly stained? Have you not done the same thing in these witch trials of yours? You use religious and civic leaders to silence those who are different and those who do not fit your interpretation of a pious citizen. You hire men like Alaric Wyth to torture your victims into confessing to crimes they did not commit. You allow this because your witchfinders get a sick sort of pleasure out of torturing their victims, and you like to watch while they writhe in pain.”

The king’s eyes bulged and spittle formed on his lips. “How dare you talk to me in that manner.”

“Admit it, Cousin. Your sense of justice is motivated by superstition, fear, and perversion.”

King James turned back to the magistrates’ table. His eyes were wild. He pointed a shaking finger at the panel of judges and screamed, “This tribunal is done. I pronounce Francis Stewart guilty. Take them both out and hang them at once. Right this very minute.”