night. Why had she been foolish enough to
allow him to come to the house?
Tamhas still pontificated on the matter, including Chloris in
the conversation. “You would not remember our grandfather, Lucas, but when I was
a wee lad he took me to see a witch burning.”
Jean looked astonished. Her attention was all his. “Oh, Tamhas,
you never told me.”
“It was disturbing, that is why, but it never left my mind,
just as Lucas planned. My grandfather was protecting his family for generations
to come by teaching us what to look out for. I’d already seen good Christian
folk in their coffins, at peace. There is no peace for those who worship the
Devil.” He paused to shake his head in disgust. “Kicking and screaming and
cursing us all they were, as they were led to their end.”
Was it guilt, fear or injustice that made them do that? Chloris
wondered.
“It must have been quite a sight.” Jean looked enthralled.
“Three of them there were, two women and a man. One of the
women, she was wickedness incarnate. She cursed everyone there, cursed their
cattle and harvests and offspring.”
Jean crossed herself. “Did they hang them?”
Tamhas nodded. “The rope first, then they lit the kindling that
had been built at their feet. They burned the bodies to be sure the demons were
gone. It is necessary, you see, this double death. We thought they would be dead
after the hanging, but one of the women was so evil that the Devil kept his
slave alive and put breath in her lungs, and when the flames lit her gown, a
terrible scream issued from her. Even while she burned, she seemed to live on
until she was burned to bone and ashes.”
Chloris took her serviette to her mouth and then dabbed her
forehead quickly, for she felt quite ill at her cousin’s lurid description.
“Their flesh melted like wax candles. I will never forget the
stench. Inhuman they were.”
Jean frowned. “Wouldn’t any person smell bad on burning?”
Tamhas, who seemed to relish sharing this sorry tale, glared at
his wife. “Not like this, this was a smell only demons would carry.”
When Jean didn’t look convinced, he avoided her question—a
question that appeared to be quite sensible, to Chloris—and hurried on. “My
grandfather, he told me what to look out for, and I see it amongst those who are
gathered around Lennox Fingal. They hunt for strange leaves in the forest and
they gather in numbers, but when you come upon them they split so that you
cannot count how many there are. If only I could catch sight of thirteen of them
at once then I would have the evidence to oust them.”
It shocked Chloris that he was so deeply driven on the matter.
She already knew he didn’t approve of anything that might be construed as
witchcraft—she had known that when she went to Somerled—but she didn’t know his
goal for Lennox and his kind was prosecution and death.
“They’re not family,” he continued, “all those people that
gather in the woods with him. No, they are similarly afflicted by servitude to
the Devil. No good Christian should have to live with such creatures practically
on the doorstep.”
The fraught nature of the situation she had agreed to made
Chloris want to run from the room, and as soon as the servant appeared again she
bade Tamhas and Jean good-night and took her leave.
Alone in her chamber, she paced back and forth, checking the
clock on the mantel every few moments. Leaving their company only gave her more
time to fret upon it, and now her doubts were manifold. Tamhas had said they
were no better than animals. Was it true?
Chloris reflected on the image of Lennox. There was a wildness
about him. That was undeniable. There was a noble air about him, too, something
in his posture and his manner that showed he would fear no man. That was where
the dark thrill lay, she suspected, the rebellion she saw in his eyes. She’d
never known anyone like that. The men in her life, her husband and her cousin
Tamhas, were powerful
allow him to come to the house?
Tamhas still pontificated on the matter, including Chloris in
the conversation. “You would not remember our grandfather, Lucas, but when I was
a wee lad he took me to see a witch burning.”
Jean looked astonished. Her attention was all his. “Oh, Tamhas,
you never told me.”
“It was disturbing, that is why, but it never left my mind,
just as Lucas planned. My grandfather was protecting his family for generations
to come by teaching us what to look out for. I’d already seen good Christian
folk in their coffins, at peace. There is no peace for those who worship the
Devil.” He paused to shake his head in disgust. “Kicking and screaming and
cursing us all they were, as they were led to their end.”
Was it guilt, fear or injustice that made them do that? Chloris
wondered.
“It must have been quite a sight.” Jean looked enthralled.
“Three of them there were, two women and a man. One of the
women, she was wickedness incarnate. She cursed everyone there, cursed their
cattle and harvests and offspring.”
Jean crossed herself. “Did they hang them?”
Tamhas nodded. “The rope first, then they lit the kindling that
had been built at their feet. They burned the bodies to be sure the demons were
gone. It is necessary, you see, this double death. We thought they would be dead
after the hanging, but one of the women was so evil that the Devil kept his
slave alive and put breath in her lungs, and when the flames lit her gown, a
terrible scream issued from her. Even while she burned, she seemed to live on
until she was burned to bone and ashes.”
Chloris took her serviette to her mouth and then dabbed her
forehead quickly, for she felt quite ill at her cousin’s lurid description.
“Their flesh melted like wax candles. I will never forget the
stench. Inhuman they were.”
Jean frowned. “Wouldn’t any person smell bad on burning?”
Tamhas, who seemed to relish sharing this sorry tale, glared at
his wife. “Not like this, this was a smell only demons would carry.”
When Jean didn’t look convinced, he avoided her question—a
question that appeared to be quite sensible, to Chloris—and hurried on. “My
grandfather, he told me what to look out for, and I see it amongst those who are
gathered around Lennox Fingal. They hunt for strange leaves in the forest and
they gather in numbers, but when you come upon them they split so that you
cannot count how many there are. If only I could catch sight of thirteen of them
at once then I would have the evidence to oust them.”
It shocked Chloris that he was so deeply driven on the matter.
She already knew he didn’t approve of anything that might be construed as
witchcraft—she had known that when she went to Somerled—but she didn’t know his
goal for Lennox and his kind was prosecution and death.
“They’re not family,” he continued, “all those people that
gather in the woods with him. No, they are similarly afflicted by servitude to
the Devil. No good Christian should have to live with such creatures practically
on the doorstep.”
The fraught nature of the situation she had agreed to made
Chloris want to run from the room, and as soon as the servant appeared again she
bade Tamhas and Jean good-night and took her leave.
Alone in her chamber, she paced back and forth, checking the
clock on the mantel every few moments. Leaving their company only gave her more
time to fret upon it, and now her doubts were manifold. Tamhas had said they
were no better than animals. Was it true?
Chloris reflected on the image of Lennox. There was a wildness
about him. That was undeniable. There was a noble air about him, too, something
in his posture and his manner that showed he would fear no man. That was where
the dark thrill lay, she suspected, the rebellion she saw in his eyes. She’d
never known anyone like that. The men in her life, her husband and her cousin
Tamhas, were powerful
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