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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

‘Och, I’ll not be using it lightly,’ said Beatrix. With a last wave, she hirpled her way back to the High Street, a sack of vegetables and a bag of grain flung over her shoulder. Sorcha hadn’t noticed her limp being so pronounced before. Some said Beatrix broke her ankle chasing her husband with a broom after he refused to do something she told him to. Beatrix always said it was running from his advances. That had been years ago and Sorcha knew which version everyone believed. Beatrix had a terrible tongue, but as she said, she meant no harm by it. It simply ran away with her.

As she watched Beatrix leave, Sorcha also noted her friend’s bent back, how her hair was now more white than burned copper. Beatrix might be using what she felt was her only option to teach a lad civility, but Sorcha feared it wasn’t only Peter Morton who’d learn the lesson.

Ten

TEN

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When a woman thinks alone, she thinks evil.

— Malleus Maleficarum, The Hammer of Witches

The following afternoon Sorcha was returning from a long day down by the shore. It had been a poor haul — mostly herring and a few cod — but a larger ship had sailed through the nets, tearing them mercilessly. It had taken all the fishwives working together with a couple of the old fishermen who no longer went to sea to repair them. One of the men, Thomas Brown, had been a mentor to her da and, after her father’s death and Robbie was taken prisoner, became one to her, advising where to send her boat and when, which men to hire, who to let go after a run. As she and Nettie fed the nets to him, pointing out where the worst of the damage was, Sorcha noted how easily his thick knuckles and twisted fingers moved to patterns he’d followed all his life. While they worked, he shared news from the other boats; what the fisherfolk down Anster way and beyond were saying. There was nothing they hadn’t already heard, and soon the conversation switched to Thomas’s daughter and her baby son. They enjoyed Thomas’s company so much, neither Sorcha nor Nettie complained when they were late leaving the foreshore to sell the catch.

Adjusting her creel as she finally headed home, Sorcha thought Thomas was beginning to show his age. Why, he must be almost eighty. Tall and thin as a fisherman’s rod, her father used to say that when Thomas was young if he stood still on deck, the gulls would mistake him for the mast. Sorcha gave a whimsical smile. Not any more now his back was bowed and his eyes cloudy, though you wouldn’t know from the speed with which he worked. For an old man, he still had plenty of energy. Not even the hacking cough that occasionally racked his frame seemed to upset him.