The reverend pretended to give this suggestion some thought. ‘Nae, Camron, I don’t want you to do that either. What I do want is for you to escort her down here, lock the door and then leave her alone. It will do her good to reflect on what she’s done; to whom she owes loyalty. God or the devil.’

Camron scuffed his boots along the floor.

The reverend paused at the door. ‘Take the night off, Camron. Don’t object. I’m ordering you. The guards have been given permission to go and enjoy themselves. You’ve been extraordinary in your duty, lad, a mighty fine keeper. It’s only fair that you have a night free as well. Go to the tavern, see your friends. Or go home to your ma. Just take yourself away from here.’ He looked around and gave a dramatic shudder.

Camron blinked and his thick-lipped mouth dropped open. The reverend almost laughed as a beaming smile lifted the lad’s entire face before it fell back into its usual blank expression. ‘But, reverend, if I do that who will watch the Tolbooth? Who will watch Mrs Cornfoot?’

‘The Lord, Camron. That’s who. God will watch over the witch.’

‘Why do you think he moved her?’ asked Nettie.

Sorcha looked up from where she was bent over the pot, stirring the soup and shrugged. The steam made her cheeks pink and her curls cling to her forehead. Ever since they’d left Beatrix’s early that evening, having learned from Mr Brown, who heard it from Camron, who’d called into the tavern for an ale on his way home, that Janet had been shifted into the lower room of the Tolbooth, they’d been debating what it meant.

The two women had stopped by the Tolbooth on their way back to the cottage, and had managed to slip some more blankets, a clean shirt and some food to Janet. Camron had been worried Janet would not only freeze, but starve. The window wasn’t as low as they remembered, but low enough that all Sorcha had to do was hoist herself onto Nettie’s shoulders to pass the goods through the open window. They even managed a quick conversation as the wynd was empty. No wonder, the way gusts swept down from the north, pummelling them with ice and rain.

Calling out to Janet quietly, Sorcha was relieved when she came straight to the window, crying out in shock when she saw her balanced just below the sill.

‘Hush,’ said Sorcha. ‘You’ll alert the guards.’

‘Nae, I won’t, lass. They’re off-duty.’

‘What?’ asked Sorcha. Surely Janet must be mistaken. There were usually four armed guards hovering about the building, outside the cell doors.

There was no time to waste. ‘How are you keeping?’ asked Sorcha quickly, pushing the blankets through the gaps in the grate. She was surprised how loose the bars were.