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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

Turning to her friends, Sorcha spoke quickly, before she lost her courage. ‘If they’re coming from Leuchars, then they’ll bring Janet from the west. I think we should go to the gate there and, at the very least, accompany her back, don’t you?’

Nettie and Nicolas agreed. Nettie linked her arm through Sorcha’s. Only Isobel hesitated, one eye straying to the fervent pack. Reluctantly, she nodded.

‘Come away, then,’ said Sorcha, putting iron in her voice, in her heart.

‘What about your creel?’ asked Isobel, looking for a reason to delay.

‘It can stay. I’ll fetch it when I go home.’

Home.

Looking at the furious mob, she wondered if the Weem even was that any more.

Forty-Eight

FORTY-EIGHT

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… the rabble was up…

— The Annals of Pittenweem, Being Notes and Extracts from the Ancient Records of that Burgh, 15th of February 1705

Burning rage was all that kept Janet atop the horse, rage and an acute sense of betrayal and shame at how gullible she’d been. Taken in by a man of God when she should have known better; taken in by his whisky, warm fire, bed and fresh clothes more like. It would never happen again, she scolded herself. Do You hear that, God? You have chosen poorly, sir, and need to rethink whom You allow to speak on Your behalf. They’re lettin’ You down, these men. They pretend a consideration they don’t feel; they lie and cheat and call it Your will. Their hearts are filled with greed. They take Your name in vain.

As she watched the swaying back of Gerard Stuart riding in front of her, aware of his brother Angus behind her, she swore a silent oath. Never again would she darken the door of a kirk except to spit on the threshold. Call her a witch, would they? Well, she’d show Cowper all right. If it was a witch he wanted, a witch he’d get. She muttered curses under her breath, taking pleasure from sending them out into the encroaching evening.

The brothers ignored her dire mumblings and said nothing. Janet eventually slumped into a seething silence. It was with some surprise that, just as the last beams of sunlight touched the glistening snow-covered hills, she saw they’d reached the edge of town. For the first time since she was dragged away from the comfort of that dirty betrumpin’ minister’s kitchen, she felt a flicker of fear. Fear and foreboding. It might have been the eerie light making the Forth glow like a devil’s urn, the forked lightning that split the horizon, or the fact that, as she looked down upon the township, she saw something unexpected — the glimmer of many torches. Tiny fires that could erupt into an inferno.