Chapter Thirty-Five

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Kirkwall, Orkney

December 1594

ALISON

William comes to me that night, when I am lying on the floor of the dungeon, swaying between two worlds. One is a realm of dark mists and screaming, the other of light clouds and ecstatic painlessness.

When I see him, I cannot move. My legs are sticky, raw wounds, the slightest movement sending arcs of pain through every muscle.

William sets down a basket and removes the contents quickly, passing me a bundle.

Inside is a clutch of living snails, trapped inside the stitched cloth. I know the reason for their inclusion—I am to use their slime to treat the burns on my legs. There is also a poultice of honey and bran, which I use once the slime has dried.

I lift my skirts hastily and place the snails on my bare flesh, gasping with pain as they find their way across the livid welts left by the caschielaws.

William unstoppers a bottle and passes it to me. The taste of cold rose water sweetened with honey is so relieving on the tongue that for a moment the pain lifts.

“I’m sorry,” he says after a long silence.

“Why are you sorry?” I ask.

“You should not be in here.”

“It is not your fault that I am here.”

“It is,” he says. He keeps his eyes on the ground. “I resolved to have you sprung from these bars within days. It has been weeks. And now you are wounded.”

“Do you know what happened to Mr.Couper?” I ask.

“He was beaten to death,” he says. “Edward was there. He witnessed it.”

My mouth falls open. “Edward?” I whisper. “Are you sure?”

He nods. “They did not find him. He is lucky.”

“But what if they find out?” I cry. “William…”

“I am meeting with the rebels tonight,” he says. “Edward is safe, and we will find you another lawyer. This is not over.”

I tell him about the visit from David, telling me I yet have friends. How Mr.Couper said that David offered to be the notary.

He begins to object. “I don’t trust David Moncrief. He is working for John Stewart. None of them are to be trusted. They work only for their own gain. They will see you thrown to the dogs before they act to help you.”

“Perhaps we ought to speak with him,” I say. “An army made of two factions is better than one.”

He considers this.

“I have learned that the earl owes the king money,” he whispers, “and it is for this reason that he fears a rebellion. He has wriggled out of both the king’s grasp and that of the Orcadian elite for many years, but he cannot contend with both at the same time.”

He tells me that Earl Patrick paid six thousand pounds for the title of earl, and continues to pay exactly two thousand and seventy-three pounds and six shillings annually—a revenue which the king has found useful enough to overlook the earl’s indiscretions, including piracy, the murder of tenants, and theft of udal lands. Patrick has borrowed money from the king several times before, but has defaulted on his most recent sum of ten thousand pounds, the punishment for which is beheading. Earl Patrick is therefore under considerable pressure either to find the money to pay the loan—which he cannot—or to provoke the king’s sympathy to extend the term and avoid beheading.

“We know that the king is fresh from the Berwick witch trials,” William says. “He is still paranoid, however. He fears witches above all else. The rebels believe that Earl Patrick is intent on launching his own witch campaign here in Orkney specifically to persuade the king that he is too busy fighting witches to pay off the loan.”

“I do not understand,” I say. “You believe that the earl has imprisoned me because he owes the king money?”

“I believe that the king has many advisers,” he says carefully. “And they all seek power, and money. Why do you think Father Colville is so intent on painting you as a witch?”

“He is the king’s chamberlain,” I say. “So will do his bidding.”

“I do not believe Father Colville serves anyone but himself,” William says, raising his eyebrows. “I believe he is working for all three men: the king, John Stewart, and Earl Patrick.”

“But why?” I ask. “Why would he do that?”

“For money,” he says. “He holds a position of trust, and therefore commands a high price. John Stewart has attempted to kill his brother in order to take the earldom, and now he must regain his brother’s trust. I would imagine he is paying a very high price indeed to Father Colville for this task.”

I feel my heart drop. I have no hope at all if what he says is true.

He must see the look of despair on my face, for he reaches through the bars and takes my hand. “My love, you must hold fast. You must not confess, no matter how much they try you. Promise me, Alison.”

I nod. “I promise.”