Chapters (76)
- Cover
- About the Author
- Also by Karen Brooks
- Title Page
- Dedication
- EXPLANATORY NOTE
- PART ONE
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- PART TWO
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- PART THREE
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Forty-Eight
- Forty-Nine
- Fifty
- Fifty-One
- Fifty-Two
- PART FOUR
- Fifty-Three
- Fifty-Four
- Fifty-Five
- Fifty-Six
- Fifty-Seven
- Fifty-Eight
- Fifty-Nine
- Sixty
- Sixty-One
- Epilogue: Autumn 1706
- AUTHOR’S NOTE
- GLOSSARY
- LIST OF CHARACTERS
- ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Yet, was she any better? Were any of Janet’s friends or family? They sat there among them, mute. Too scared to challenge the reverend lest they were named witches. That was all it took. The bestowing of a label and all the connotations that came with it. Fishwife, people could accept, albeit begrudgingly. But witch, that was the name for an outsider in every way, an un-woman not worthy of God’s protection or grace. A witch brought ill with her and infected a community. It was a name to be feared. By the bestower and those branded with it. That’s what Janet’s death had taught her — taught them all. To be called a witch was to be reborn. Anything done in the past was obscured by the new identity. Forget the fact the witch was a mother, daughter, sister, neighbour, lover, grandmother, healer, fishwife… A witch was a canker on the body of the community that must be excised.
The name turned a person from a child of God into a devil-made creature, fair game for hunters like the reverend and those who took pleasure from such sport.
Sorcha had no desire to play their deadly game.
‘Live for me.’ Those were Janet’s last words, her final wish. ‘Live for me.’
Sorcha made up her mind there and then that she would do whatever that took. Even if it meant singing and praying alongside murderers who used God as a shield to protect their crimes and justify their cruelty.
As she was thinking that, she caught the eye of first Nettie, then, seated two rows over, Beatrix, Mr Brown, Nicolas, Isobel and Isobel’s father. It was important she remember there were also those who saw through the mask of righteousness, saw the town and the reverend for what and who they were — people caught in a spell that, if she had any influence, would soon be broken. She would cleave to those she trusted and keep working to ensure Janet’s memory — and that of Thomas Brown — lived on.
Someone had to.
Live for me. If that meant pretending to be aligned with the reverend and his supporters for now, so be it.
During the last hymn, Sorcha, Nettie and a few brave others left before the reverend had a chance to step down from the pulpit. They might attend for the sermon, show themselves to be members of the kirk, but be damned if they would shake the murdering bastard’s hand.
Fifty-Four
FIFTY-FOUR
