Chapter Two

“Hush, lad,” Ossian’s father, Doylan Bain, roared. Master Bain owned the finest team of horses in Slurt and went about helping his neighbors with their plowing, which made him a highly respected man. “Do no’ involve yoursel’ in this.”

Ossian did not stir from the place he occupied, which happened to be right next to Ranna. The miller’s daughter reached out and touched Ossian’s arm. Only a fleeting gesture, yet the possessive expression that came to her face and the victorious look she darted at Tansy screamed aloud.

Ossian’s father and Ranna’s were fast friends. They’d long wished to join their families together through the marriage of their son and daughter. Ossian had declared—at least to Tansy—that he’d prefer otherwise, and Tansy had believed him.

Perhaps that had been another mistake.

Master Farquharson told the Bains, “My lass Ranna was about to tell us of the curse this witch bespoke in the market today.”

Ossian flinched. His blue eyes widened, and the brilliant color ebbed from his cheek. He took a careful step backward.

Tansy knew the truth then, as if the tiny voice that sometimes whispered—and sometimes shouted—in the back of her mind declared it outright. Ossian Bain might be bonny. He might be long and strong of limb, and his kisses might taste like honey, but he had not the courage God gave a kirk mouse.

Despair, anger, and extreme disappointment all arose, tangled together in her breast. They might as well leave her tied to this post and set her alight now—her dearest desire being lost to her.

But she wanted to live, she wanted to live.

She fixed an unblinking stare on Ranna’s face, daring the wretched lass to speak. They had hated each other since they were six and Ranna had taunted Tansy for having a mother who ran away rather than stay and raise her.

Nobody loves you, Ranna had declared, nasty even at that tender age. Nobody ever will.

But Bessie loved her, and Da, and her younger half-brothers and sisters, though they didn’t understand her any more than a blind priest understood the sunrise.

Ossian—aye, maybe she’d been mistaken in him. And it looked to cost her dear now.

The Royal Commission. Questioning—the pain and humiliation of it so terrible it would make a body confess to things that weren’t true, just to end the agony.

She struggled suddenly to draw a breath. Could that truly happen to her? Could it?

She increased the intensity of her glare at Ranna, who treated Tansy to one flash of burning hatred before lowering her lashes once more.

“Father, I do hate to say…I fear to repeat such words, for peril to my soul.”

“Daughter, you must. Your kirk demands it, and your Crown. Justice demands it. If the heart of this woman be evil, the rest of us must be protected.”

“My lass is no’ evil.” Drachan spoke up. “You lot ha’ known her all her life.”

“And her mother before her,” Stephen Farquharson challenged. Rafe Leslie’s grip on Tansy tightened painfully. “What was she, Drachan, who went awa’ wi’ the fairies?”

Da’s face darkened. “The sins o’ the mother are no’ those of the child.”

“Has she the mark o’ the Devil?” asked Ronnie Leslie, close beside his brother. “Let us strip her naked and see.”

“Nay!” Bessie cried, and Tansy’s legs threatened to give way beneath her.

“Nay,” Master Farquharson confirmed. “’Tis a task for the Commission, that. They will ferret out the truth.”

“Aye, so,” said Da, truly angry now, angrier than Tansy had ever seen him. He too fixed his gaze on Ranna. “Let us hear this accusation.”

Silence fell again. Tansy heard only the wind sighing over the land and wished she could fly away with it. But she stood lashed securely to the post, with her captors hedging her in.

Ranna raised eyes naked with hate to Tansy’s face. “She said to me this very day she hoped the hair would fall from my head, the teeth from my mouth, and I would wither and die like a sprig of heather in the killing frost!”

Gasps greeted those words—a damning cluster of them, and no mistake. The wishing of illness or death could not be taken lightly, and horror touched every visage, including Tansy’s own.

Master Farquharson turned on her. “Did you speak these words, lass?”

“I did not.” In truth, what she’d said had been far more poetic, as well as damning. Best Ranna could not recite accurately what Tansy had actually said so rashly. They would not wait for the Commission but would burn her to death here and now.

“She did.” Rafe Leslie stepped up beside Ranna. “I was standing nearby and heard her.”

Tansy switched her glare to him. “You were but hanging about because you wished to get up Ranna’s skirt—you wish it still! That is why you speak now.”

It might be an exaggeration, but Tansy fought for her life.

“Nay,” Rafe began, but Ranna interrupted him. Hatred, raw and certain, now flooded her whole face.

“Everyone here knows what you are, Tansy Bellrose Gant. You wished me harm—deny that!”

Tansy could not, in good faith. She would lie though, if she must.

She spat at Ranna, “You are but saying these words because you want him.” She jerked her chin at Ossian Bain. “And you ken fine he wants me instead.”

Ranna stepped toward her. “I am saying it because you are an evil sickness in our midst that needs to be scourged. May you travel straight to the Devil where you belong!”

Murmurs broke out among the onlookers; a chant began. “Evil! Witch!”

Bessie spread her arms and tried to step between Tansy and danger. Da as swiftly pushed her aside and interposed his tall body; for an instant Tansy felt wondrously sheltered. But, with a grunt, Wille MacTay swung round and knocked Da down with the kind of punch that might fell a man twice his size.

Bessie screamed. Ronnie used his body to push Tansy hard against the post, and Master Farquharson bellowed, “Do not let them free her! Holding her for the Royal Commission is of utmost importance. Word shall be sent this very day.”

“But what to do wi’ her meanwhile, Master Farquharson?” asked Rafe, who still hovered at Ranna’s side, even as Ossian stood at her other shoulder. Master Farquharson pondered the question, while Bessie dropped to her knees at Da’s side.

At last Farquharson cried, “Leave her tied to the post. Make certain she cannot wiggle free, even through the use of magic. Be sure not to look her in the eyes, lest she cast a spell! She will harm you if she can.”

“Nay!” wailed Bessie. But she remained on the ground while the Leslie brothers checked the bonds that tied Tansy to the post, drawing them still tighter, so they bit cruelly into her flesh.

Despite the pain, she struggled. She wanted very badly to reach her Da, who lay senseless, with blood trickling down his face, so she kicked out, using her feet to best advantage, landing blows where she could. She wailed like a dark spirit and her black hair, never well disciplined, tumbled down her back like that of a wild woman.

The crowd, as if irresistibly drawn, moved closer, Ranna and her father still at the forefront. Tansy wished right enough she could fell Ranna there and then, as Willie had Da—scratch her blooming cheeks, cause her to wither with every kind of pain. But fear had her by the throat so hard she could only wail, and terror threatened to steal the very sense from her mind.

Roughly, the Leslie brothers ran their hands over her before stepping back to view their handiwork. The marker, a pillar of stone ragged enough to tear the skin from Tansy’s back, stood six or seven feet tall. The lettering on one side, as Tansy well knew, read Slurt. That on the east face read Stirling. Tansy, pinned against it, had nowhere to hide.

She searched the faces of her neighbors—folk she’d known all her life—for a shred of mercy and found none. Instead, these folk gazed at her as upon a stranger, with rampant hatred, suspicion, and incipient enjoyment.

She laid her head back against the post and flung her gaze to the far horizon.

Escape. Escape!

A magpie, black marked with blue and white, flew across the skyline. Tansy’s heart bounded perilously. One brings sorrow, and one brings joy… Despite the bird’s prophecy of grief, she wished she might fly with it, stream away, find her strength and power…disappear into freedom.

Take me, she whispered to the knowing that dwelt inside her. Lift me.

Save me.