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Back The Darkest Shore
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

‘You see, not only does Satan create witches, but he creates doubters. He fashions those who refuse to believe in witchcraft, something we all ken to be true. They are like the Sadducees of auld and would tear us from our faith, from God. Why? So they too can recruit us into Satan’s army.’ He gave a bitter smile. ‘Have we not seen this for ourselves? Together, the witches and their associates, the doubters, sow seeds of malice in little towns like ours. They turn loved ones against each other, friends become foes. In the meantime, witchcraft and its foul practitioners thrive unpunished. Is this right? I ask you. Is this what the good Lord intends?’

There was a murmur of ‘Nae,’ which quickly rose to a crescendo. Some shifted in their pews, looking askance at their neighbours. The gap between Sorcha and the men was growing. Dr McLeod looked as if he would stand in the aisle.

Reverend Cowper paused, his chest heaving. ‘It isn’t right. And if we needed more proof of Satan’s work, look at the poor drave. Where are the fish? Where is the sea’s bounty? Why is His briny larder, which has sustained us for centuries, being closed to us in the Weem now? What is God telling us?’

Sorcha wanted to protest, point out that the drave had been bad for seasons and it wasn’t only Pittenweem feeling the pressure.

‘And what of our crops? The poor crofters and farmers who are forced to plough ruined fields, sow what they’ll never reap? They too are starving. Those we once relied upon to feed us when the sea was barren can barely feed themselves.’

The murmur grew to a roar.

‘And what about the weather?’ called one parishioner. Sorcha couldn’t see who.

‘I don’t remember it being like this in November before,’ added another.

‘If it weren’t for your wife forever hailing you, you couldn’t remember your name, Hamish Fletcher,’ countered someone. Sorcha could have sworn it was Therese. There were a few chuckles.

Rather than silencing his flock, the reverend relished the commotion.

When there was a lull, he continued. ‘And then there be the deaths from war.’ Sorcha’s heart leapt. ‘We have always paid dearly for our service to the English Crown, no more so than now, as many of you here are all too aware. May God bless your sacrifice.’