CHAPTER 24 - The Wake of Janet Cornfoot

28 October 1687

THERE WAS A commotion outside Janet Cornfoot’s cottage when Scougall and MacKenzie appeared through the woods. A small crowd of mourners were in the garden; an old woman was wailing loudly. She fell silent as they entered through the small gate.

‘We come to pay our respects,’ said MacKenzie.

John Murdoch came forward with a worried expression, beckoning them to follow him round the side of the building.He waited until they were out of earshot. ‘God help us! God help us!’

‘What is it, man?’ asked MacKenzie.

‘Bluid! Bluid! We were aw roond the coffin, when Jean Paterson suddenly screams – “Bluid! Bluid!” I looked within. Fresh bluid wis drippin frae Janet’s mooth. Then Jean starts shouting “The killer is here! The killer is here!” It is said a corpse bleeds in the presence o the one who killed it. We aw began tae look roond the room, eyeing each ither.’

‘There will be a rational explanation, Murdoch,’ MacKenzie reassured him.

‘I dinnae ken what it can be, sir. I saw the blood masel, clear as day.’

MacKenzie marched round to the front of the cottage and made his way through the throng. The door was ajar. He pushed it open and entered, Scougall behind him, fearful of what they might find. Murdoch followed, but remained just outside the door.

There was no one inside the cottage. The coffin lay on top of the wooden table in the centre of the room. MacKenzie and Scougall looked down on Janet Cornfoot. There was a dark red trail emerging from her slightly open mouth. The wood of the coffin was stained beneath her head. Scougall edged back, glancing round the room as he recalled the description of the badger hanging at the doorway.

MacKenzie removed a small pair of tweezers from his pocket. Holding Janet’s nose with thumb and forefinger, he pulled down the jaw, jabbing into her mouth with the instrument. Scougall took another pace back, fearing that something might burst out. MacKenzie carefully removed what looked like a leather pouch about the size of an apple. It reminded Scougall of an old golf ball.

‘There, we have it!’ MacKenzie was delighted with the discovery. ‘There is no witchcraft here. This is the work of man, or woman! Look, Murdoch. A bladder of blood was placed in the mouth. A piece of metal was secured inside; the hole sealed with wax. When it was pulled, the bag was ruptured, releasing the blood.’ MacKenzie showed Scougall the tiny slash in the bladder. ‘The timing was perfect. Could it have been someone in the room? Think, Murdoch!’

‘I saw naebody touch the body, sir.’ The old servant looked bewildered.

‘What do you think, Davie?’

‘Perhaps a thread was yanked from somewhere.’ Scougall was relieved that the explanation involved no supernatural agency.

They searched the room, but found nothing. MacKenzie noticed that the window was slightly open. ‘A cord might have been pulled from there by someone outside.’ He looked through the open door where the crowd was dispersing. ‘The folk of the parish believe that Janet’s killer is amongst them. They will not trust any of their neighbours. Keep this in your pocket, Davie. We must examine it closely later.’

Scougall gingerly pocketed the shrivelled object.

‘Does it tell us anything about how Janet died?’ he asked.

‘It tells us that she did not die of natural causes, despite what the sheriff-deputy believes. But we knew that already.’

‘I must return to the house, sir,’ said Murdoch from the doorway.

‘Before you go, I have a couple of questions for you,’ said MacKenzie, moving towards the servant.

Murdoch looked down at the floor. ‘Aye, sir.’

‘You and your wife were seen the night before Lady Lammersheugh died. What were you doing out so late?’

Murdoch rubbed a large hand on his trousers as if trying to remove a stain. ‘We were returning frae ma sister, sir. She bides in Craw, five miles frae Lammersheugh.’

‘I understand you were wearing only a semmet on a cold evening.’

‘I had taken aff ma coat. It’s a lang walk hame. I wis sweating.’

‘Was there any other reason you were out so late?’

‘No, sir.’

‘I hope you are telling the truth, Murdoch.’

MacKenzie waited, but the servant said nothing.

‘Janet spoke of strange sounds in the village during the night, faint screechings,’ said MacKenzie.

‘I have heard them, sir. The spirits o the deid. The Devil walks in Lammersheugh.’

MacKenzie’s frowned. ‘Please do not say anything about what has happened here to Rosina.’

Murdoch nodded.

‘Do you trust him?’ Scougall asked MacKenzie after Murdoch had departed.

‘I do not trust anyone in a witch-hunt, Davie! But he has been a loyal servant of the House of Lammersheugh, as has his wife. We must not let his manner prejudice us against him. They could have acted together to engineer this morning’s conjuring trick. But what would they gain from stirring up such trouble in the parish?’

‘They were beneficiaries of the will,’ observed Scougall.

‘The sum they received was not great. According to Euphame, Murdoch was in the house on the day of Grissell’s death. However, it is possible he was paid to cause trouble at the wake.’ MacKenzie took a piece of string from his pocket and threw it to Scougall. ‘I want to take another look at the body. While I am busy here, search the gardens. Look for footprints under the window.’