Page 37 of A Temptress in Tartan

“Then bring forth your ‘proof,’ and I will help you to see the actual truth,” Lachlan said.

The minister who had arrested him stepped forward with a Bible in his hands. His cheeks were mottled and his eyes blazed. “Lachlan Douglas, what contract have you made with the Devil?”

“I’ve made no contract with the unclean one.”

“He lies!” the minister shouted as the room suddenly became charged with both energy and noise.

“Silence,” the Lord Advocate shouted over the murmurs of those gathered. “We will hear more testimony.” He turned back to the minister. “If you have a point to make, make it, sir.”

The minister held the book out to Lachlan. “Touch this holy book and let us see if your flesh doth burn.”

Lachlan lifted a manacled hand, and with chains rattling, he placed his right hand atop the Bible. When nothing happened, Lachlan allowed himself a small smile of satisfaction.

“Look! He smiles!” Someone in the crowd shouted. “The Devil helps tae keep him from bursting into flames.”

Lachlan startled. “What absurdity is this? The Devil is nowhere near me. I am but a man who touches and reads from the Bible every day.”

“Then read a passage now,” the minister said, shoving the Bible at him with a fanatical grin.

Lachlan took the holy book in his hands and flipped it open to a random page. He looked down at the words, and for a moment terror filled him as he saw that the book was not in the king’s tongue, but in Latin. Lachlan struggled to control his breathing. He might not fluently speak the language, but he had studied it for years and knew many of the words. At least enough to pass this suddenly-thrust-upon-him test.

He’d opened the pages of Deuteronomy. His gaze immediately caught on the words “confortare et esto robustus.” He read the passage in Latin. “Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the Lord your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you.”

“How dare you speak the words of God!” the minister hissed as his hand cracked against Lachlan’s cheek with brutal outrage. “What powers do you have that allow you to speak so?”

“I have no powers other than those given to a mortal man.”

“The Devil is his Master.” The minister’s voice rose. “You are charged with witchcraft and sorcery.”

Despite the panic that threatened, Lachlan kept his emotions in check. Echoing the man’s anger would do nothing to help his cause. He needed to be rational and logical in his own defense since it appeared even the king would not stand for him. “I am innocent,” he said again. “I have done no witchcraft or sorcery.”

“I ask again, what contract have you made with the Devil?”

“None.” Lachlan’s heart pounded painfully in his chest.

“Enough, Godfrey!” A voice boomed above the others. “This line of questioning is getting us nowhere and is only inciting hysteria. How am I to fulfill my promise to God to root out witches from this kingdom when I am surrounded by fools?” the king asked.

Hugh Godfrey flinched at the insult before he schooled his features once more. “How would you like to proceed, Your Grace?”

“There are ways to hasten this man’s confession, should he need to make one.” The king stepped forward. His eyes locked upon Lachlan. “Do you tell us what we wish to know willingly, or shall we allow more forceful tests to loosen your tongue? I personally have no stomach for the devices, but they are very effective at bringing on a confession.”

He spoke of torture. A shudder passed through Lachlan, but he kept his face impassive.

“There is another way,” the Lord Advocate said as he took the Bible from Lachlan’s hands and set it on the table behind him. “Since it is our quest to determine if this man should stand trial as a witch, if we had irrefutable proof, then a trial would be all but certain.”

“What are you suggesting?” the king asked with a frown.

Hugh Godfrey’s eyes glinted with excitement. “It is well known that to seal a pact with the Devil, the dark one will suck upon the flesh, leaving a mark, a spot, or a teat in some hidden place. When pricked with a needle, if the mark neither bleeds nor causes pain, then it is a true Devil’s Mark. Such a mark can be easily mistaken for one that is naturally occurring upon the flesh, so only an expert in these matters might be trusted to find such a devious contract between a human and the dark one. John Swinton is here in Berwick. He is renowned for his skills as a pricker and has sent many witches to the flames. Shall I send for him?”

Lachlan tensed as he imagined the long, sharp needle they would thrust into his flesh and quite possibly over every inch of his body. Swinton might be highly regarded for his skill as a pricker, but he was also Mariam Swinton’s—one of his accusers—father. Would the man be more thorough in his task in an effort to prove his own daughter right in her suspicions?

“Aye, send for the pricker,” the king said after a long pause. “But delay until tomorrow. I want the prisoner denied food and sleep so he might be easier to contend with when the pricker begins his work. Escort the sorcerer back to his cell.”

“Will no one hear me when I tell you I am innocent?” Lachlan’s gaze traveled over the king, the Lord Advocate, Hugh Godfrey, the elders, and the crowd. “I am an innocent man.”

The king averted his gaze. “Take him away before he casts a spell on us,” he said above the growing cacophony of sound.

Lachlan struggled against the grip of the guards who came to seize him. The king would betray him in spite of their unique bond, regardless of how many enemies he had killed all in the king’s name. He would toss Lachlan into the fires of hell simply to prove he alone could root out evil among his people.