Page 91 of The Dark Wolf's Deliverance

The crowd gasped as one.

‘We have a stain on our reputation, and our family seat at Sgathach Dun has long been the subject of the rumour that it is cursed and that evil spirits lurk beneath it. It is said that many generations ago, a woman was buried alive within it, as punishment for witchcraft.’

Several people made the sign of the cross.

‘My clansmen, myself included, never venture down into the lowest reaches of the castle at night. It is a terrible place, cold beyond what is natural, and so we keep the doors barred and lock our chambers at night against the spirit rising. But Kenna, even as a child, showed no fear of the place and would creep down there to avoid punishment for her many transgressions. She grew from a sullen child to a scold - disobedient and disrespectful. God knows my father did his best with her, but he despaired of ever leading her to the path of righteousness.’

All Kenna could do was shake her head in denial, but Ross had the crowd hanging on his every word.

‘She pleaded with my father to arrange a good marriage for her, and when a rich man, Laird Donald Menzies, came to our keep, she set her sights on him. He was married, and so she cursed his wife, and it was but a matter of weeks later that the unfortunate woman was brought low with a terrible affliction and, soon afterwards, that good lady died, leaving the way open for my sister to marry the widower. Evil it was, Lord, but it didn’t stop there, oh no.’

‘No, no, that’s not true. I never wanted him, I swear. It was the Menzies who wanted his wife dead, not me.’

Kenna’s words were lost in the baying of the crowd as Ross warmed to his subject.

‘We took Conall Campbell, who is now by some evil means her husband, as a prisoner, a just punishment Lord, for his crimes against our clan. But she went abroad by night, for she has nothing to fear from the darkness, protected as she is by its master, and she gave him succour. She visited him in his cell, lying with him, seducing him with her wiles and enchantments. Unbeknownst to us, she bewitched him into running away with her, and they made good their escape with coin she stole, intended to feed our poor through the winter. They murdered one of my clansmen in the process. They left poor Euan with his neck bones crushed to powder by some unholy strength, eyes staring in horror, as though he had seen the Devil himself.’

This last, Ross addressed to the crowd who jeered and shouted to a deafening pitch. ‘Murderer,’ they screamed, shrill and angry, the cawing of crows over a carcass. Crack went the gavel, over and over, like bones breaking.

‘Clan Moncur has long been cursed with bad luck, down through the generations, but we were never so cursed as when my half-sister came into this world. Now she is gone, we are better off for it, our fortunes have turned around, our crops flourish, the hunting is good, fowl and deer are plentiful once again on our land. We have built up our wealth again. But it all came too late for our father, dead he is, of an unknown malady, which came and took him with unnatural speed. ‘Twas her, casting the evil eye on him, no doubt about it. And she has gone on with Campbell to Dunslair, worked upon him, twisted him into marrying her, so she cannot be brought to account for her many crimes against us and others.’

A door at the back of the room burst open, and there was a ruckus. Ross continued undeterred. ‘She is a whore and a murderess, many times over,’ he shouted. ‘She is a witch, through and through.’

Conall burst through the crowd, white with anger and flung himself at Ross, but he was held back by guards and enraged onlookers.

‘Let her go. She is innocent. I am her husband, Conall Campbell, and I demand you let her go. This man is a liar and a whoreson.’ He struggled to free himself. ‘She is under my protection as her husband, and I demand you let me speak.’

‘I am Lord James Braxfield, judge and jury here, and you will demand nothing in my court.’

Duncan managed to push past Conall to stand before Lord Braxfield, his passage helped by the brawny intervention of Murray and Angus Muir, who shoved people aside with vicious force.

‘I am Laird Duncan Campbell of Dunslair,’ he shouted over the rapid banging of the gavel and the voices raised behind him. ‘This man is my son, and I demand to be heard by this court.’

‘Ah, I see you have your son’s insolence, Sir. You will address this court and its overseers with respect or be ejected from this room whilst I dispense the King’s justice.’

‘This farce is not worthy of that name. There is no justice in trying a woman without giving her a chance of legal counsel. Why all this secrecy, the hurried trial, away from others, away from any challenge? The King shall hear of you perverting justice in this way.’

‘The King has given me this charge, and I will have your respect Laird Campbell, or I will have your head on a spike before the castle gates.’

‘I give you no respect. I give you no leave to hold sway in this court, for I do not recognise its legitimacy.’

‘Recognise it or not, the trial must continue or do you want to fight the mob, for these good people wish it to reach its conclusion.’ He waved a hand to the back of the room.

The crowd were pressing closer, jostling Murray and Angus. Conall managed to fight his way through to Kenna, stretching out his hand and clutching hers.

‘It will be alright, Kenna. I won’t let them harm you, I swear.’

How glorious it was to hear his voice, but it was short-lived as the crowd shifted and his hand was torn free, and he was dragged backwards, out of her reach.

Someone pushed against her, a hand stroking slowly down her face and brushing across her lips with the lightest of touches. She turned, and her eyes met Meyrick Campbell’s. ‘One last chance to touch you, my love,’ he breathed in her ear and then he was gone.

At that moment, Kenna’s heart lifted. ‘My love,’ he had said. He meant to speak for her. Her legs buckled, heart pounding against her breastbone like a fist punching. In a blur, she heard the judge command him to speak and Conall’s voice suddenly shouting, ‘No, no.’

‘My name is Meyrick Campbell, recently of Clan Campbell of Dunslair, where I first met Kenna and gave my heart and soul to her,’ he said. There was torment in his words.

‘And?’ questioned Lord Braxfield.

‘I loved her to distraction,’ he glanced over at her. ‘I worshipped the ground she walked on, for as you can see, she has the face of an angel, so soft, so pure looking. I loved her then, and I love her still, hopelessly, agonisingly.’

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