Page 55 of Much Ado About a Scot

“Aye,” she said in a startled voice.

“Have you, at any time, seen Isobel Seaton chant a spell over the men who were unfortunate enough to marry her?”

“Nay.”

“Did Isobel Seaton give her husbands a tonic she had created?”

Freya’s face turned marble white as she turned her gaze to Isobel. “Only after her husbands had taken ill, did she create a tonic that she hoped might heal them.”

“She made a witches’ potion.”

“Nay!” Freya exclaimed. “I was with her when she made them and she used only the dried herbs anyone might find in their kitchen supplies.”

The witchfinder’s gaze narrowed on the cook. “Are you admitting to also being a witch?”

“Nay!” Freya visibly started to tremble. “I am but a cook and a household helper.”

“On the morning of the fire in the fields surrounding Gladmuir Hall did you see your mistress chant an incantation, hold her hands to the sky, and make it rain?”

Freya’s hands grasped handfuls of her skirt as she tried to still her shaking. “She did no such thing. She did what anyone else would do in such a situation, she prayed to God for assistance.”

A rumble of conversation broke out throughout the chamber, but quieted quickly when Reverend Brown stood at the magistrates’ table. “If I may address the tribunal on this matter,” he said in a clear voice. “On the Sunday before the fire broke out at Isobel Seaton’s farm, I gave a sermon to my flock about how we as people of God should ask our Father for the things we need. That it is perfectly acceptable, even biblical to ask for deliverance during difficult situations. In the Gospel of Mark, it says, ‘Therefore, I tell you, whatever you ask for in prayer, believe that you have received it, and it will be yours.’ I must insist this is what Isobel was doing that day. As a woman of faith, she was following my direction.”

Alaric Wyth’s face turned a mottled red. “Sit down, Reverend. You have made your point, but that still leaves two charges against her.” With a renewed fury in his gaze, he shifted back to Freya. “Were you witness to the attack upon Lord Bothwell by Isobel Seaton’s familiar?”

Bolstered by Reverend Brown’s testimony, color returned to Freya’s cheeks. She straightened. “The eagle that attacked Lord Bothwell circles over the fields of Gladmuir Hall often. It attacked Lord Bothwell, but not at milady’s command.”

Alaric Wyth lunged toward Freya. “I did not reveal the nature of Isobel Seaton’s familiar. An eagle is an odd sort of familiar. She must be a very powerful witch to have such a large, predatory animal as part of herself.”

Freya shrank back. “Nay. I dinna say—I know milady and she is no witch!”

“And we are to take your word as the truth? A woman whom she has under her spell?”

Freya sputtered and lines in her face deepened, giving evidence of her frustration.

“I am done with this witness,” Alaric Wyth announced.

The noise in the chamber surged as with a smile of satisfaction, the witchfinder strode back to his place at the magistrates’ table. When he sat down his gaze locked with Isobel’s—and what she read in those dark eyes sent a chill racing through her. He was prepared to mold the evidence against her any way he could so that the panel of judges couldn’t help but convict her of these manufactured crimes.

Isobel shivered at her own thoughts and the empty dread filling her. The success or failure of her case relied on what Alan MacGilvaine could do for her. Beside her, he stood and turned to face the chamber.

“Silence,” the Lord Advocate demanded when the young solicitor first tried to address those gathered.

“David Graham, please enter the witness box so that we may hear your testimony.”

Isobel’s neighbor came forward. He stood stiffly with his hands at his sides.

“How long have you known Isobel Seaton?”

David’s gaze softened as he gazed at her. “All her life.”

“Have you ever seen any strange behavior from her that you might consider odd, or derived from something evil?”

“Nay. Never.”

“Is it true that Isobel’s first husband became ill after eating supper at your house? And that along with Rory falling ill, several of your servants suffered from a similar affliction, as well as your sister?”

“Aye, on both accounts.”