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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

It took less than two days for the reverend and council to extract a full confession from Isobel. Rumour had it she wasn’t tortured, she simply blathered the moment the reverend and the bailies appeared in her cell and mentioned the pricker, names and details spilling from her mouth. Beatrix was identified as head of a coven who conspired to murder Mr McGregor in his home. Isobel claimed it was because McGregor refused to rent one of Beatrix’s houses.

Sorcha didn’t doubt what Isobel had confessed, or who’d put the ideas into her head. All it would take was the threat of punishment to have any of them who’d been interned before to confess to anything.

Not sure whether she should sit and wait for the guards to come and arrest her or flee the village like Margaret and Lillie, Sorcha returned to work. If she ran, it would be an admission of guilt and she refused to give the reverend the satisfaction, not over such ridiculous claims. At least while she faked the nets, collected bait and hooked the lines, sorted, gutted and sold the few fish that were caught, her body was occupied, if not her mind.

It was down at the harbour that she heard the gossip. Whereas Edinburgh had thought the evidence upon which she and the others had been interned in the Tolbooth was flimsy and the interrogations dire, the reverend believed that not only would McGregor’s testimony and Isobel’s confession change the minds of city officials, but vindicate him and the council. Thomas Brown’s death would now be seen as just: God’s will made manifest.

Whereas there’d been many in Pittenweem in agreement with the Crown authorities who thought Peter Morton was as great an imposter as Christian Shaw from Paisley, they now expressed fury that the poor lad had not only been disbelieved but mocked. Peter enjoyed a wave of sympathy and support reminiscent of when he was first afflicted.

Sorcha could hear women and old men clecking on their stoops, reminding each other how the lad had suffered and asking what those toffs in the city would ken. They hadn’t seen the way his neck twisted or his belly distended. And what about when he coughed up all that hair and other strange objects? The stories grew wilder, more assured with each telling. Details were added and embroidered. Sorcha grew more despondent.

What had once been a murmur of discontent about the way Peter and, as a consequence, the reverend, the council and the entire town had been treated by Edinburgh, ridiculed and ignored when they were in the gravest of peril, in a matter of days had transformed into a blame-filled fury.

Alexander McGregor’s testimony was little more than kindling to an already burning flame; a flame about to erupt into a conflagration.