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Back The Darkest Shore Save as PDF
Chapters (76)
  1. Cover
  2. About the Author
  3. Also by Karen Brooks
  4. Title Page
  5. Dedication
  6. EXPLANATORY NOTE
  7. PART ONE
  8. One
  9. Two
  10. Three
  11. Four
  12. Five
  13. Six
  14. Seven
  15. Eight
  16. Nine
  17. Ten
  18. Eleven
  19. Twelve
  20. Thirteen
  21. Fourteen
  22. Fifteen
  23. Sixteen
  24. Seventeen
  25. Eighteen
  26. Nineteen
  27. Twenty
  28. Twenty-One
  29. Twenty-Two
  30. Twenty-Three
  31. Twenty-Four
  32. Twenty-Five
  33. Twenty-Six
  34. Twenty-Seven
  35. Twenty-Eight
  36. PART TWO
  37. Twenty-Nine
  38. Thirty
  39. Thirty-One
  40. Thirty-Two
  41. Thirty-Three
  42. Thirty-Four
  43. Thirty-Five
  44. PART THREE
  45. Thirty-Six
  46. Thirty-Seven
  47. Thirty-Eight
  48. Thirty-Nine
  49. Forty
  50. Forty-One
  51. Forty-Two
  52. Forty-Three
  53. Forty-Four
  54. Forty-Five
  55. Forty-Six
  56. Forty-Seven
  57. Forty-Eight
  58. Forty-Nine
  59. Fifty
  60. Fifty-One
  61. Fifty-Two
  62. PART FOUR
  63. Fifty-Three
  64. Fifty-Four
  65. Fifty-Five
  66. Fifty-Six
  67. Fifty-Seven
  68. Fifty-Eight
  69. Fifty-Nine
  70. Sixty
  71. Sixty-One
  72. Epilogue: Autumn 1706
  73. AUTHOR’S NOTE
  74. GLOSSARY
  75. LIST OF CHARACTERS
  76. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

It took all Sorcha’s will not to shake, scream and resist. From past experience she knew it only made things worse. Holding her head high, fastening her eyes on the window, watching the way the rain crazed the glass, thinking of the captain upon Liath, she complied. Even while her mind shouted.

When she was tied down, the ropes checked, and the constable had retreated to a corner, Mr Bollard clapped his hands. ‘Right, all is in order.’ He extracted a long, sharp needle from the neat row he’d made. Holding it horizontally, he pressed it to his lips before showing it to Sorcha.

‘Let’s begin, shall we?’

Twenty-Three

TWENTY-THREE

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It was upon his [Peter Morton’s] accusation… the minister and bailies imprisoned these poor women and set a guard of drunken fellows about them, who by pinching and pricking some of them with pins and elsions, kept them from sleep for several days and nights, the marks thereof were seen by several a month thereafter. This cruel usage made some of them learn to be so wise as to acknowledge every question that was asked of them…

— A Letter from a Gentleman in Fife to his Friend in Edinburgh, 1705

Sorcha only knew it was the end of May because the month and date had been written on her confession. It was spring, the season of rebirth and renewal. She should have been outside, walking through mist-veiled morns down to the shore, breathing in the warmer air, watching lambs gambolling on the pastures between Anster and the Weem. Enjoying the seal pups making their way towards the rocks at the edge of the braes, their mothers floating anxiously nearby while bursts of puffins, little motes of black, white and sunshiny yellow and red, sprang from nests dotted all over the Isle of May. She should have been casting off her winter shawl, feeling the sun on her back, dodging hatchlings and fondling puppies as she strode up the High Street. Washing the curtains, scrubbing the floors and getting ready for the day when the hearthstone and fire could be properly cleaned. She should be roaming the markets. Instead, she, Nettie, Nicolas, Isobel and the others were interned in the eternal coldness of the Tolbooth, still subject to the whims of the reverend and the bailies. Dependent on the generosity or sympathy of the guards and those who could bribe them.