Though he had powerful connections, Sorcha had no doubt the captain was underplaying his role. She knew it was because of him, and those in the village who’d never ceased in their support and agitation for the women’s dispensation, that this had happened.

Yet what of the reverend and his followers? A spark of fear seared her ribs, made her heartsore and uneasy.

‘It’s not over yet though, is it?’ she asked.

The captain poured her another dram and then topped up his own quaich.

‘I’m not going to lie to you, lass. Nae. It’s not. You’ll have to appear in Edinburgh. They’ve ordered a trial and that’s what they’ll insist upon. The good news is they’ll not allow those they see as legally untrained and thus ignorant to pass sentence upon you — that means your bailies and minister. The Pittenweem council. Reverend Cowper will do all he can to overturn the order and have you tried here in the Weem and by himself and the bailies — he’s said as much and not just to me. He’ll go looking for more evidence to prove the charges against you all and thus bind the lawyers in Edinburgh into an agreement — one where he sets the terms.’

Her eyes slid from the captain’s face as she thought of Peter Morton. She hadn’t even asked after him, the lad whose sudden illness had started this in the first place.

‘What do you think will happen to Janet Cornfoot? Will you be able to appeal to your colonel for her release too?’

Captain Ross shrugged. ‘I’ll alert the colonel to her situation and pray that he in turn will let his cousin know.’ He hesitated. ‘It’s my belief the reverend’s punishing her because she recanted before the Queen’s Advocate who, you understand, still seeks to try you. When the rest of you followed her lead and did the same, you humiliated him before his betters. Worse, before his peers and the town. Despite what Cowper says, he’d no real choice but to set you free for the time being. He can’t hold each of you, but he can Mrs Cornfoot — for all your sins.’

‘Has he not done enough?’ asked Sorcha sadly.

Stretching out his long legs, the captain sighed then gave a short, sharp laugh.

‘What? What’s so funny?’

‘I was just thinking. The reverend isn’t going to have it all his own way.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Unbeknowst to him, young Peter Morton is about to be summoned to Edinburgh to appear before the Privy Council.’

‘But…’ Sorcha sat up, alarm writ on her features. ‘If they see how afflicted he is…’ Images flashed before her. Peter writhing on the ground, his hands spraying blood as they struck the stones, his distended stomach, bulging eyes. His emaciated body.