Chapter Fifty-Five

CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

Fynhallow, Orkney

December 1594

DAVID

He watches the stake burning long after the families and neighbors have left, forcing himself to look on her. Alison’s body will be burned until it drifts high across the sea, landing on the hills and the fens and the forests. They will stoke the flames until her body cannot be inhabited by the Devil, until it is ash.

He keeps his eyes on the birds that circle nearby, wondering, hoping.

When the stake collapses, the body gone, he watches the guards poke at the bones within the rubble, as though they might become animate. Even now, he thinks, after they have tested, tortured, and wrung every last hope from her, when they have killed her and burned her body, they still fear her.

Under his cloak is the record book, the ink still fresh.

He takes the boat back to Kirkwall to fetch his belongings. The risk of traveling alone is great. He is John Stewart’s servant—the king will not look kindly upon him.

He returns to his quarters, packs his satchel, fetches his knife. He will need to report to Father Colville before he leaves, and so he makes for the castle, his stomach roiling with nerves.

He finds Father Colville not in his study, but in the courtroom, standing by the steps leading to the dais.

“My lord,” he says, sweeping forward in a deep bow to avoid making eye contact. “I will hasten to Edinburgh.”

“You recorded the woman’s retraction,” Father Colville says, an arched eyebrow. “Why?”

David straightens. “I believed it was what you wished, my lord.”

Father Colville holds him in a searching look. “Why would you have thought that I would wish the retraction of something we worked so hard to achieve to be written down ?”

“You are right,” David says, after a pause. “I only did so because I believed the woman was about to confirm her wickedness, or perhaps speak treason.”

This seems to satisfy Father Colville. “Show it to me,” he says, holding out a hand.

Without hesitation, David removes the book from his satchel and hands it to Father Colville, who flicks through the pages. Finding the record dated 16th December, he scans the text briefly—then rips out the page.

He takes it to the fireplace and throws it in, watching the flame curl around the edges. He doesn’t move until the page is ash.

He turns to David. “You will send the rest of the record to the king.”

“Yes, my lord,” David says with a deep bow. “I will deliver it myself.”

As David leaves the room, he closes his eyes, his heart beating hard. He is glad, so very glad, that for once he listened to his instinct. He suspected that Father Colville would find a way to destroy the record of Alison’s words, and so on the boat back to Kirkwall, he created a copy on a page folded within his shirt. Tonight, he will sail for Edinburgh, and deliver the book to the king.

He slips the copied page carefully back inside the book, closing the record.