Angus and Gerard began to clear the way. Sorcha and Nettie followed, keeping Janet between them and the lads’ boots in sight, not daring to make eye contact with anyone. The noise around her grew louder and louder.

A stone struck Sorcha’s shoulder. She cried out. Another struck Angus on the chest and he staggered into her. Someone darted forward and swung a stick at Janet’s head. Blood sprayed across her face and she fell to one knee, her flailing arm hitting Sorcha, blinding her momentarily. Forced to let Janet go, Sorcha was bumped aside. There were shouts, a great tearing sound, followed by breaking glass. More stones were thrown, passing over Sorcha’s head. Separated from Janet, Nettie was struck in the temple. Sorcha tried to reach her and to ensure Janet was in her sights as well. The milling bodies, the pushing and shoving, made it hard.

A gunshot rang out.

The mob scattered, exposing Gerard standing in their midst, his musket smoking.

‘Get back, all of you!’ The veins on his neck were ropes; his eyes started from his head. ‘Go home. You’ve nae business being here.’

Horrified by what he’d done, firing his weapon, Gerard twisted one way then the other, the musket pointing into the crowd, causing folk to squeal and retreat. For the first time, the entrance to the wynd was free; there was a way out, a way to get to the Tolbooth.

Sorcha reached Nettie, who was dazed, and helped her to her feet, taking the kerchief someone shoved in her hand and pushing it against Nettie’s temple to stop the bleeding. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Janet. While everyone was distracted, unable to look away from Gerard and his gun, she’d managed to make her way to the edge of the pack. Small, bent and so very, very ancient, her eyes gleamed with possibility, her mouth cracked a smile.

Sorcha surveyed the fierce, frightened faces, the men and women twisted by prejudice, terror and so much more. They wanted, needed, to see what they believed to be retribution served. But what the reverend suggested was not justice. He could not wash his hands of Janet as if he was Pontius Pilate and leave her fate to the angry mob.

Nettie whispered to her. Sorcha nodded and, leaving Nettie where she was, tried to reach Janet and lead her to the relative safety of the Tolbooth before something terrible happened. Nettie was right. She had to do it now, while people were startled into co-operation by an anxious lad with a deadly weapon.

A few of the men decided Gerard needed to be taught a lesson. Sorcha recognised Clem Brady and Seumas Cowper. Another man moved stealthily towards Gerard. She’d never seen him before. Circling around Gerard, he lunged and snatched the musket out of his hands.