Page 33 of The Heather Wife
“Secure him,” Sorcha commanded.
One of the guards struck him hard across the jaw,staggering him, yet John bellowed still.
Another cry cut through the uproar—this one from the crowd. Marion, his wife, skirts flying, tried to break past the line of guards. “Release my husband and children! You witch!”
A guard seized her arm and wrenched her back.
“Stop your nonsense!” Sorcha’s voice cracked across the courtyard like a whip. The uproar stilled at once, silence descending heavy and taut.
The prisoners were forced to their knees before the dais, the weight of their chains dragging against the stones, echoing in the stillness.
Elspeth's head jerked, her wild eyes frantically scanning the crowd until they found Calum.
"Calum! Save me!" she shrieked, her voice thin with desperation. "You love me! It is Sorcha who should be in chains, not I!"
Sorcha lifted her hand. The crowd hushed further, eerie stillness falling until even the wind seemed to hold its breath.
She let her gaze move deliberately across the square. “People of Strathloch. You see before you four of your own, three of them whose choices brought death upon this clan. They invited raiders to our gates. They bartered my life for our supplies and coin. Like cowards, they struck when our warriors were away—when our clan was most vulnerable. Their plotting cost us five of our kin. Their betrayal caused fear and grief to spread into every heart.”
Her voice hardened as she moved before Niall. “Niall MacLeish I spoke with your kin, with the clansfolk you forsook. They spoke up for you—for your honest nature and willingness to work hard. They told me of your weakness for your friends, that you were led astray by those you trusted most.” She paused, her eyes lingering on the bowed headbefore her. “Niall, for that weakness, you are guilty. Yet I will not see you hang. You are to be banished. You will leave Strathloch this day. Your wife may go with you if she chooses. But know this: your crime will be declared to every clan. Should you seek shelter, they will know the truth of you.”
A sob burst from Mairi, who stood trembling in the crowd, her hand cradling her belly. Tears streamed down her face, but there was relief, too, as she covered her mouth, stifling her cries with a trembling hand. Sorcha signaled a guard to stand ready by her side, fearing she might collapse.
“You will be taken to your home for this night,” Sorcha continued, “which will be guarded, in order to collect your belongings and rest. At dawn, you will depart Strathloch.”
Sorcha turned sharply to John. “John. Last night you sought my life—you aimed to succeed where your children failed. You struck at me, the Lady of this clan and its regent, chosen by your kin. You showed yourself for the coward that you are, creeping from the shadows, hoping to shame and slay me.” She stepped closer, her eyes burning into him. “You shall hang for your crime.”
Marion wailed as the guards seized John and hauled him struggling toward the gallows. He spat curses even as the noose was forced over his head. When the box was kicked away, his roar broke into a strangled choke. His body writhed, the rope biting deep. The crowd gasped—some shouting in anger, others murmuring prayers—as his struggles slowed… and finally stilled.
Sorcha turned to Elspeth, whose shrieks grew shriller still.
“Elspeth,” she said, her voice like stone. “Your scheming brought ruin to Strathloch. Your vanity and cruelty invited death to our gates. Five of your kin lie in their gravesbecause of you. I gave your fellow clan members the chance to speak for you, but not one took up for you. Instead, they called you a serpent in the grass, striking at your own for gain. For your betrayal—for your treason—you shall hang.”
Elspeth’s screams rose higher. “Calum! You love me! Help me!”
Sorcha’s eyes slid sideways. Calum’s fists clenched white, his gaze fixed outward into the courtyard, purposefully away from the gallows. No plea on her behalf came from his lips.
The guards dragged Elspeth forward as she struggled to get loose, the chains rattling louder with each movement.She was forced onto the box,the noose slipped over her head. She thrashed and screamed curses until the box was brutally kicked out from under her, her scream snapping into silence as her body jerked, then dangled, lifeless. The crowd erupted—some cursing her name, others sobbing, a few spitting on the ground in bitter satisfaction.
Sorcha turned to Liam, who wept openly, his eyes squeezed shut.
“Liam,” she said, her tone unflinching. “You were weak, following where your sister led, though you knew the path was poison. For that, you are guilty.The trust of this clan, once broken, can not be mended.You will be banished from Strathloch. Take your mother with you. She is no longer welcome here. Know this—if you return, if I ever set eyes upon you again, I will run you both through with my own sword. Your crimes will be declared to every clan, and you both will be outcasts until your dying day.”
The guards hauled Liam and Marion to their feet. Marion sobbed, her body trembling as if her bones could not bear her weight.
“See them to their home,” Sorcha commanded, her voice carrying over the courtyard. “Allow them to take what they can carry, then escort them to the gates. They leave Strathloch this day.”
Chains rattled. Marion’s cries mingled with Liam’s as the guards led them away.
Sorcha stood tall on the dais, the wind tugging at her plaid, the gallows looming behind her. The crowd’s eyes stayed fixed upon her—not Calum, not the elders, not even the swinging bodies. Only her.
“People of Strathloch,” Sorcha said, her voice steady, sweeping the crowd with her gaze. “I have borne cruelty at the hands of this clan. But I have also found in you kinship, and the strength to endure. I stand here not only as regent, but as one of you. Today, justice was done. And I thank ye for the trust you have placed in me.”
She let the silence hold a heartbeat longer, then stepped back from the edge of the dais. She turned and descended alone, the plaid at her shoulders snapping in the wind.
Among the elders, Domhnall bowed his head once, solemn as stone.
As Sorcha crossed the courtyard, the clansfolk parted to let her pass—not in fear, but in recognition.
