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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

‘Go on,’ said Patrick finally. The words cost him and he made sure everyone present knew it. He rubbed his chest, took a deep breath, and continued slowly. He was not above some theatrics if they served a purpose. And what better purpose than God’s? ‘Tell us again how you never intended the bucket and coal to be a charm, even though everyone in the Weem knows this is precisely what such instruments signify. A sea-charm used by witches to conjure up storms, cause havoc and drive men mad. Is this not what you intended, Mrs Laing, when you lay the charm by the smithy? To smite young Peter Morton and summon the devil to torment him?’

Beatrix gave a hollow chuckle. ‘You seem to have great knowledge of what I intended, reverend. If I didn’t know better, it would be easy to believe you set the charm yourself.’

This time the bailies gasped. Patrick, recovered now, jumped to his feet. With three strides, he loomed above her, his lank frame casting a shadow over her bent one. He raised his arm as if to strike her. Beatrix lifted her chin and locked eyes with him.

‘Go on, lad. I dare you,’ she whispered.

He lowered his arm, stepped back and gestured to one of the constables. ‘We’ve wasted enough time. The woman needs to learn to speak the truth.’

‘I am speaking the truth,’ shouted Beatrix. ‘It’s you that won’t listen.’

Patrick stood aside to make room for the constable. Moving behind Beatrix, the man elevated a stick above his head and brought it down across the back of her shoulders.

The old woman cried out and would have fallen off the chair if she had not been tied to it.

‘God demands the truth,’ Patrick shouted. ‘If we have to knock it out of you, we will.’

‘And it’s what He has been given,’ yelled Beatrix. ‘You be naught but a slimy bit o’ fish guts, tangling my words and my meaning.’ Turning her head one way then the other, she tried to locate the constable who’d struck her, even as she twisted in her seat to try and dodge the next blow. ‘Hit a feeble auld woman, will you, Angus Stuart? Well, I’ve had worse and from better than you.’ She began to laugh. It was hollow. Dry. Broken.

Patrick knew where she found her voice, her courage to resist. ’Twas the devil.