Page 36 of A Temptress in Tartan

“If you are innocent, that will come to light.” The Lord Chancellor dropped his gaze. “Your interrogation will begin this afternoon. The king himself will be present at the proceedings. He means to handle your case with care so that other chieftains do not get the idea that they can settle clan disputes by accusing each other of witchcraft.”

Lachlan tried to see that as a hopeful sign. If the king were present, there was less of a chance of Donald Ruthven abusing the process for his own purposes.

“He wishes to see that justice is served,” the Lord Chancellor said as though reading Lachlan’s thoughts.

“Thank you,” Lachlan said. “As long as it is justice and not revenge that is served, I have no fear. I am an innocent man.”

The Lord Chancellor looked at him with a mixture of sadness and admiration before he stepped back through the door, shut it, then slid the bolt tight.

*

That afternoon, one of the guards opened the door and, keeping Lachlan’s manacles on his wrists, led him outside the tolbooth to a transport cart. Four guards walked before the cart while another four followed behind, all with their swords drawn, prepared for any interference that might come their way.

The cart rattled through the small town until it stopped outside the ruins of Berwick’s Old Parish church. “We’re here,” one of the guards announced as he helped Lachlan out of the cart before escorting him into the tribunal chamber.

Inside the building, the air was heavy with the smell of tallow from the multitude of candles burning in sconces on the walls of the chamber, as well as that of pitch and decay. It took Lachlan’s eyes a moment to adjust to the bright light, but when they did, he saw King James himself striding back and forth across a raised dais at the front of the room. Every few steps, the king stopped and looked about the chamber as if expecting to find a witch among those in attendance.

Lachlan scanned the faces of those gathered until he found what he sought. Elizabeth stood on the left side of the chamber with Reid and Lucy at her side. His wife’s face was pale and her features drawn as she clutched her hands in front of her with such force her knuckles had turned white. Her father and several other Ruthvens, including Keddy, stood closer to the front. Others he recognized in the chamber were Peter Grayden and several of his warriors, along with the minister, Hugh Godfrey, and the five elders who had arrested him. The remainder of the crowd were no doubt local residents who were curious to see if a laird could be punished as easily as any of them might be.

Silence fell over the chamber as he was ushered onto the dais to stand beside the king. King James’s gaze fell on him, not with sympathy, but with a fierceness Lachlan had never witnessed before. “Your Grace,” he greeted with a deep bow.

“I’m very angry with you,” King James said through narrowed eyes. “Your cousin, Reid, was quite insistent that I come here myself and oversee these proceedings, forcing me to abandon my own pleasures.”

“My apologies, Your Grace. This whole event is a farce, forced upon me by none other than Donald Ruthven.”

The king’s gaze connected with the Ruthven in question. “Aye, he might have started this whole thing, but there are serious charges against you that must be reconciled.”

Lachlan’s body tensed. “Your Grace, ’tis me, one of your warriors. You know me. You trust me, or at least you did once.”

“’Tis more complicated than that. The Devil’s clutch may be on you yet. We must prove otherwise.”

Lachlan shivered as a chill walked his spine. “You know me, Your Grace.”

“I cannot make an exception for even one man, whether I know him or not, if charges are brought against him.” Beads of perspiration appeared on James’s forehead as his gaze moved across the increasing crowd. After a long pause, he said, “The specter of the Devil stalks this land. I trust in these proceedings to let the truth be known.”

“The truth is, I am innocent. I’m no sorcerer, but I am your guardsman. ’Tis my duty and my honor to keep you safe as a Scot, a Stuart, and the rightful king. And in return, you had once vowed the same to me.”

Color bloomed on James’s cheeks even as his eyes narrowed. “You dare to judge me?”

“Nay, Your Grace,” Lachlan replied, his jaw tense. “But it appears you are about to judge me.”

James frowned but said nothing more as a tall, thin man wearing a white wig and a scarlet robe took his place on the dais. As he did, the murmur of the crowd died down until there was only silence. John Skene, the Lord Advocate, proceeded, saying in a voice loud enough for all to hear, “Lachlan Douglas, Earl of March, you have been brought before this tribunal to answer for the following crimes:

“Item: You have acted against King James VI’s laws governing the use of sorcery.

“Item: You have used potions to cause sickness and enchantments to unbaptize and cause the Devil to take over Bessie Broun’s soul.

“Item: You used enchantments to stir up the waters of the Firth of Forth causing the death of Dillon Kemp, and to incite willful acts of evil that nearly took the lives of five others.

“Item: By consorting with the Devil, you attempted to sacrifice your wife on the altar of matrimony.

“Item: You shapeshifted into a black cat and summoned up other spirits as you passed through the village of Aberlady.

“We have ample testimony from those who’ve been affected by your evil deeds, and yet I must ask, how do you plead to these charges?”

Anger surged inside Lachlan as he looked first to the king, then to Elizabeth. Both refused to meet his gaze as though they feared he might somehow influence their behavior. When his gaze lit on Donald Ruthven, the man’s mouth twisted into a slow smile of satisfaction. “Not guilty,” Lachlan replied.

The Lord Advocate frowned. “We have ample evidence against you.”