‘Why isn’t she being let go? Her bond’s been paid,’ cried Jen Hazell.

There were catcalls and clamour. Someone began to bang a drum.

Jostled by his supporters, who sought to shield him, the reverend moved towards the soldiers. He said something to Sergeant Thatcher who cleared a path and led him to the Tolbooth door. The crowd shifted to allow them passage.

Sorcha couldn’t help but admire the reverend’s bravery. She doubted she’d walk so calmly through such a furious gauntlet, even with the sergeant and his men to protect her.

The reverend’s face was hard to read as he waited for quiet. Ignoring the rain that drummed against his head, his dark robes a contrast against the pale grey and brown stones of the Tolbooth, he was more like a statue than a human, a gargoyle akin to those Sorcha had seen carved on the churches in Edinburgh.

‘’Tis true,’ he began. ‘Mrs Cornfoot’s bond’s been paid and will be held in trust for her until such time as she is freed.’ There were jeers. The reverend raised his hands for silence. Accustomed to obeying him, the crowd eventually hushed.

‘The Edinburgh magistrates have shown great clemency in releasing any of these w… women.’

There were hisses.

‘As I said,’ he repeated. ‘Great clemency has been shown. These women have been charged with a capital offence. The magistrates have taken a great risk in freeing them. What you don’t seem to understand, my friends, is that you have as well.’

There were some scornful noises. ‘What risk are they to us? Have you not seen the state of them?’

‘Believe what you like,’ thundered the reverend, his patience gone. The rain was heavy now. His hair was flattened to his scalp. Seeking shelter, the incomers started reluctantly to disperse. They weren’t the only ones. With Nicolas in his arms, Mr Lawson turned his back on the reverend and pushed his way past the soldiers to the High Street. Isobel, head bowed, followed with her father.

Undaunted, the reverend continued. ‘What was done to these women was done to protect you. It was done to protect them —’ he pointed after Nicolas and Isobel, ‘so they might recant their allegiance to Satan and be returned to our Christian community.’

There was muttering and much shaking of heads. More people began to move away. They either didn’t want to listen anymore or wanted to avoid being soaked.

‘These women are not innocent. They are charged — out of their own mouths, by their very own confessions.’ Realising he was losing his audience, he began to bluster. ‘They are still a threat — to us, to you — and it’s only out of the goodness of our Christian hearts and the imprudence of the magistrates in Edinburgh they’re being allowed back into the community — lest we forget, there’s still a trial pending.’