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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

How dare they suggest he’d feigned his illness! They weren’t there; they didn’t see the charm, feel its effects, hear his cries, his moans. They didn’t know how his body wouldn’t allow him to control it, how afraid he’d been. They didn’t know what it was like to live with witches as neighbours. But when the Earl of Rothes went so far as to call him a villain, Peter felt a deep resentment begin to burn. They thought being from the city, with their fine clothes, their peculiar way of speaking, their ability to read and write, made them better; they thought their understanding greater than his, the tawpie lad from a small place. Anger surged through Peter and he kicked a drystone wall, uncaring of the pain that shot up his leg. Fury towards those evil beings who’d made him suffer in the first place — the agony of the curse and now this latest humiliation — made him kick it again. A ewe bleated on the other side, sending him on his way.

He picked up a clod of earth and flung it down the wynd, feeling gratified when it exploded in a shower of dirt. Instead of being praised for his role in uncovering the coven as he’d anticipated, as the reverend had alluded, he’d been sent home in disgrace. All the while, those who caused his misery were free to wander where they pleased. Where was the justice in that? What reward did he get for naming the devil-loving hizzies but a flea in his ear and a father who could scarce look at his own son any more?

Just as well not all the villagers felt that way. Ever since he’d risen from his bed, there had been those who congratulated him — not only on his recovery, but for identifying the witches in the first place. Keen to use his services, the smithy soon rang once more. He’d only to step in the tavern and men crowded around to slap him on the back, buy him an ale, blather over a dram. Aye, there were many who knew what he’d saved them from…

Only, the reverend believed they weren’t saved at all; they’d merely been granted a reprieve.

Peter prayed he was wrong, but a part of him prayed he was right. Then those boldinits in Edinburgh could eat their words.

Any remorse he felt at the role he’d played in gaoling the women was swept aside in a mixture of rage, pride and bravado. He’d done a good thing. One couldn’t allow witches to run around the place cursing all and sundry and corrupting good Christian souls, could they? That’s what the reverend said over and over.