Testament of a Witch

by Douglas Watt

  She opened her shawl and squeezed her breasts together.

  The horseman slowed as he approached. He must have noticed her. Then she remembered she was carrying a lantern. How stupid she was. She raised it to see if she could identify who it was.

  ‘Wid ye care fir a wee drink, sir?’ She took the bottle from the basket, holding it up.

  As she did so, an object swung through the air.

  CHAPTER 33 - A Conversation with Archibald Muschet

  29 October 1687

  EUPHAME’S FRAGILE FRAME, supported on either side by a guard, emerged from the kirk. There were gasps from the crowd as she moved forward, a miserable skeletal figure in stained sackcloth, more like a pauper than a laird’s daughter.

  ‘Puir creature…’ a woman standing beside Scougall murmured; her husband shook his head: ‘The House of Lammersheugh, fallen tae sic a state.’

  Beside the coach waiting by the gates of the churchyard, Euphame fell into Rosina’s arms, a hint of affectionate recognition on her dirt-stained face. Tears ran down the cheeks of the younger girl.

  MacKenzie moved through the throng. Taking Euphame by the hand, he whispered: ‘I must continue my search here. We are close to establishing your innocence.’

  She looked up at him with an imploring expression.

  ‘Be strong Euphame, be strong. You still have friends,’ he managed to add before he was pushed back.

  She was lifted into the coach by the guards, who took up position at either side of her. The coach took off down the main street.

  ‘May I have a few words?’ asked MacKenzie, intercepting Muschet who was on the point of leaving.

  The merchant looked aggrieved at the delay. ‘I fear your attempts on Euphame’s behalf are ill-considered, Mr MacKenzie. There is unassailable evidence of her witchcraft – the delation of Margaret Rammage, the pricking by Kincaid. She did not bleed. She is a witch. She will confess soon. Now, you must excuse me. I have business to attend to.’

  ‘I am a man who prefers facts, Mr Muschet. I examined the papers at Lammersheugh House this morning. There are a series of bonds made out to you for substantial sums of money. How much are you owed?’

  The thought that he might see the return of some cash lifted the merchant’s mood. ‘Five thousand pounds Scots, I believe.’

  ‘A tidy sum.’

  ‘The family were not good payers!’

  ‘But you went on lending to them.’

  ‘I did them service when others would not. They offered security – fertile lands.’

  ‘Did you make any further demands upon the family?’

  ‘I do not understand what you mean, Mr MacKenzie.’

  ‘Did you make an offer to Lady Lammersheugh?’

  ‘What kind of offer are you referring to?’

  ‘An offer of marriage?’

  Muschet glared. ‘I did not, sir. Marriage to such a woman was not an appealing prospect!’

  ‘Then you deny that any such offer was made?’

  ‘I do…’

  ‘Do you have designs on the daughters of the family?’

  ‘Designs, on a witch! My only object is to have my money back, Mr MacKenzie, by legal means. If they cannot pay I will proceed through the courts. I will take what is due to me.’ He raised his right hand in a fist. MacKenzie noticed there were blue stains on his fingers.

  ‘I see. You have cleared up a misunderstanding. What do you think happened to Lady Lammersheugh?’

  ‘I believe she took her life rather than confess her sins and beg forgiveness.’

  ‘She did not slip, as Clachdean thinks?’

  ‘I do not believe so.’

  MacKenzie smiled. ‘I noticed some fine hats with blue feathers in your shop priced at five pounds. How many have you sold?’

  ‘I have sold three.’

  ‘Who bought them?’

  ‘A merchant does not usually reveal such information. But I will tell you. I sold them to Clachdean, Woodlawheid and Purse.’

  MacKenzie turned to make sure that Scougall was noting everything down. ‘Who was the woman I saw in your shop yesterday morning?’ he continued.

  ‘Which woman are you referring to?’

  ‘The peasant whom your sister had words with.’

  ‘Helen Rammage.’

  MacKenzie’s eyes burned into Muschet’s. ‘Is she related to Margaret Rammage?’

  ‘She is her sister.’

  ‘She had money to spend in your shop, Mr Muschet.’

  ‘Indeed. That was a surprise. She lives in a hovel in Headlaw.’

  ‘Where might she have come upon such funds?’

  ‘I do not question customers about where they get their money. My only concern is that they are able to pay. I will not give credit to the likes of her. I have long experience of the family.’ As Muschet turned to leave, he added: ‘I warn you, gentlemen. The family of Lammersheugh have embraced evil since the death of the laird. There are other creditors who cry out for payment. Families rise and fall. It is the way of things. You will know that well, being a Highlander, Mr MacKenzie. Clans grow like plants, then fade to nothing. I bid you good day, gentlemen.’

  MacKenzie was not quite ready to take his leave. ‘Where were you on the day Lady Lammersheugh died?’

  ‘That day the session had a meeting that lasted hours. I was in the church with Mr Cant and Mr Rankine.’

  He strode off down the main street in the direction of Lammersheugh House.

  CHAPTER 34 - The Hovel of a Witch

  THE BUILDING WAS one of four squat stone structures with thatched roofs comprising the village of Headlaw. An old man smoking a pipe directed them to an open door. A line of dirty faces looked up as they entered. Five children were sitting on the floor, eating from wooden bowls with their hands. An old woman occupied the only chair in the cramped darkness of the cottage. She stopped stirring her pot and turned with a terrified expression.

  ‘Are you Helen Rammage?’ MacKenzie asked in a friendly manner.

  ‘No, sir. I am Margaret Rammage. Helen is my dochter.’

  Scougall was shocked to hear the name. Was this the witch, brought back to life before them?

  ‘You are the mother of Helen and Margaret Rammage?’ MacKenzie’s question settled him. He must learn not to leap to conclusions.

  ‘I am, sir. God forgie me. My ain dochter brunt as a witch. God forgie us aw.’

  ‘I am John MacKenzie, a lawyer from Edinburgh. This is Davie Scougall, my writer. We are looking after the affairs of Lammersheugh. If I may, I would like to ask you some questions.’

  The old woman looked bewildered. ‘Margaret burnt as a witch. Lady Lammersheugh accused o witchcraft. Now Euphame Hay tane tae the steeple. God gie me strength. We are puir servants. I hae naethin. And now Helen’s nae back frae Haddington last nicht.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘She did not come hame yestreen. She may be lyin in a ditch sleeping aff the drink, leavin her bairns wi me, puir relict that I am.’

  MacKenzie put his hand in his pocket. He took out a few coins and gave them to her.

  The old woman’s face lit up. ‘Thank ye, sir. Ye are maist generous.’

  ‘Does your daughter often visit Haddington?’

  ‘Only when she has a few bawbies. She likes a drink, like her faither. Whit else dae we hae?’

  ‘Please tell us when she returns home, Mrs Rammage. We stay with Porteous in Lammersheugh. It is very important that we speak to her.’

  The woman nodded. ‘She is aye happy to talk wi a gentleman, as I am, sir. Aye happy.’

  ‘You are a servant of Aikenshiels?’

  ‘I was, sir. Just like Margaret and Helen.’

  ‘Can you tell us what happened to Margaret?’

  The woman indicated with a movement of her hand that the children should leave the cottage. They silently walked out in a line.

  ‘I ken not when it began, sir. Margaret served Aikenshiels since she was a girl. She was canny wi her mistress. They we
re aye thick thegither in aw things. But I didnae ken they had sauld themsels tae him. He is aye tempting ye, ken. He has come tae me mony times in the nicht when the bairns are asleep, asking me tae lie wi him. He’s asked me tae gae tae the wids wi him. I hae been tempted. But I aye said no. Margaret couldnae say no. She was ill-treated by her man. He left her wi child, then she had anither by a sailor. The session were aye tryin tae reform her, makin her sit in the stool in the kirk. She hated them for that.’ The old woman was becoming more and more animated. ‘She was a wild thing. She loved tae run wi them. Fornicating in the fields, fucking ony man she liked the smile o, leaving me wi her bastards. Excuse ma wirds, sir. She wis often oot aw nicht. I didnae ken whaur she wis. But in she wid come in the mornin. I now ken whit she wis aboot. The hail parish kens which she wis aboot. An now her bairns an mither must live wi the disgrace. I wid leave the parish if I could. But who will hae an auld relict an six bairns?’

  Scougall felt disgusted by the lives of these Godless peasants.

  ‘Do you know why Margaret might have added the names of Lady Lammersheugh and Euphame to her delation?’

  ‘It is aye the way o witch-hunts, sir. A few are named, then a few mair come tae mind, an then mair, until aw the women in the parish are accused an a few men as weel!’

  ‘Does Lady Girnington ever come here?’

  ‘No, sir. Why wid she pay court tae the likes o us? I hae ne’er spake tae her and I hae served her tenant as servant fir forty years.’

  ‘What about Clachdean?’

  ‘The colonel has nae business here.’

  ‘Did he ever pay court to your daughters?’

  The woman eyed MacKenzie suspiciously.

  ‘Please, Mrs Rammage. Euphame’s life is in danger. She is no witch.’

  ‘I believe the colonel wis known tae them, sir.’

  ‘Known to them?’

  ‘He has lain wi baith. The youngest child is his bastard.’

  ‘Who is the mother?’

  ‘He has a witch as mither.’

  ‘Does he support his son?’

  ‘He provides a few pennies. But he is aye wantin value fir whit he gies tae us.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Helen is carryin his bastard tae.’

  CHAPTER 35 - Questions for Mr Cant

  ‘MAY WE HAVE a few words, Mr Cant?’ The minister was surprised by the appearance of MacKenzie and Scougall. His mind was full of Rosina. She had promised to visit him again.

  He recovered his composure. ‘Are you walking to your lodgings, gentlemen?’

  ‘We are,’ replied MacKenzie.

  ‘Then I will accompany you. I return to the manse.’ He spoke politely to Scougall: ‘I do not believe we have been introduced.’

  Scougall had been taught from the cradle to revere the ministry, especially those from the Covenanting tradition, and he knew that Cant inclined towards the brethren, although he had accepted the recent Indulgence. As Scougall shook his hand he recalled that he himself had aspired to the profession of minister when a boy. But he was too shy, entirely lacking the self-confidence to speak in public. He felt a rush of admiration for the young man of God, whatever MacKenzie might think of him. He liked his serious demeanour, his Godliness.

  ‘This is Mr Scougall, my assistant.’ MacKenzie intervened as Scougall stood speechless.

  ‘It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr Scougall. The law is, I hope, a rewarding profession.’

  ‘Thank you, sir,’ was all that he was able to say.

  They walked down the High Street in the fading light. An icy cold had descended and a few stars flickered above them.

  ‘Rosina tells me that you have care of her spiritual education,’ MacKenzie commented.

  ‘I have long had her under my wing, guiding her studies, answering her questions. She has been through so much recently. I am very worried about her. A mother accused of witchcraft, and a sister…’ A vision of Rosina in his study came back to him. He prayed to God to direct him away from sin.

  ‘Is the family not dangerous company for a minister?’ Scougall picked up the sneer in MacKenzie’s voice and was tempted to say something about rudeness to a minister, but recalled the face of Mr Hope when they visited him in his manse the previous year, and the unpalatable fact that the clergy were not immune from sin. There must be a reason for MacKenzie’s abruptness.

  Cant was not used to being addressed in such a manner. The reverence paid to him was one of the most enjoyable aspects of his position. He struggled to smother his irritation. ‘I seek to lead her to the path of righteousness – like my parish – like the kingdom – there is much at stake in Lammersheugh. I must ensure that Satan does not take the soul of Rosina as well. I will fight with everything I have to preserve her for God.’

  ‘You talked scripture with Rosina, sipped wine at Lammersheugh House while her sister languished in the steeple of your kirk half a mile away. She now rots in the Edinburgh Tolbooth.’ There was venom in MacKenzie’s voice.

  ‘I have visited Euphame constantly during her confinement in the steeple. I sought to gain her return to God,’ Cant insisted.

  ‘And her confession!’ interrupted MacKenzie.

  ‘We all seek her confession. She has been accused of witchcraft by delation. The pricker has revealed her guilt. Now she must stand trial.’

  ‘I am very sorry this has happened, Mr Cant. I do not believe that Euphame is guilty of anything. She is the victim of the evil of others.’

  ‘Let me assure you, I have only the best interests of my parish at heart. I must look after all my flock. There will always be some who turn from God. But the parish will be cleansed.’

  Cant’s confidence was returning. He would master Rosina. He would master himself. But the memory of touching her was painful.

  ‘And taking the life of Euphame Hay is part of the cleansing, is it?’ MacKenzie’s voice resonated with scorn.

  ‘It must be so, sir.’ Cant raised his voice as if conducting a sermon. ‘We follow scripture which is the word of God. Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live, Mr MacKenzie.’

  ‘What if you are wrong? What if Euphame is innocent?’ MacKenzie leaned towards him.

  ‘I am not wrong. I have God’s assurance. He has told me that I am doing good work in rooting out such evil. I am doing His work in hunting the witches that pollute our parish.’

  ‘Then we must differ, Mr Cant.’ MacKenzie shifted key again, effacing his true feelings with an urbane smile. ‘Was Margaret Rammage one of your flock?’

  ‘Her extirpation rids the parish of great evil. She confessed under no compunction. She was regularly before the session for fornication. She had three bastards to different fathers.’

  ‘But she changed her confession. The first delation did not include the name of Euphame Hay.’

  ‘That is correct. But the list of witches was long. Many others have been accused. It might not be expected that she would remember all those who attended such meetings.’

  ‘I would have thought that she would have recalled the name of a laird’s daughter. Why did she add other names to the list?’

  ‘She told us that she had remembered further details. Mr Rankine took down her confession. I was not able to attend the second interview. However, the minutes in the session book are public records.’

  ‘Perhaps Mr Scougall might peruse their pages?’

  ‘Of course, it can be arranged. I can provide him with access if he comes to the manse. Here are your lodgings, gentlemen.’

  ‘I would prefer that he accompany you immediately to examine the book.’

  Cant was annoyed. He had wanted to see Rosina. Now he must entertain this gauche notary public. ‘If that is what you wish, Mr MacKenzie.’

  ‘Go with the minister, Davie. Look at all the entries in the session book of the last few weeks. Do not let your eyes miss a trick.’ Before Scougall could answer MacKenzie was crossing the road. ‘I must have a word with young Geordie Cockburn.’

  CHA
PTER 36 - A Walk Through the Graveyard

  SCOUGALL JOINED MACKENZIE at the table and withdrew his notebook. ‘I looked at all the entries over the last two months and have copied down the dates on which each session gathered. They met on the twenty-second of October with Cant, Rankine and Muschet in attendance. None of them could have been at the Devil’s Pool on the day of Lady Lammersheugh’s death.’

  ‘Very good, Davie.’

  ‘I then read the confession of Margaret Rammage.’ Scougall now had MacKenzie’s full attention. ‘I made a close examination of the lists of names in the delation. A group of names were added in the margin at a later date, Euphame Hay’s being one of these. However, her name was written in ink of a slightly different shade, suggesting it was an even later addition.’

  MacKenzie nodded. ‘This suggests manipulation of the session records, possibly by Rankine.’ He sat back in his seat and looked out of the window of the inn, highly impressed by Scougall’s eye for detail.

  ‘There is Rosina, sir!’ Scougall pointed at a woman dressed in a black cloak walking down the High Street.

  MacKenzie took hold of his arm. ‘Follow her, Davie!’

  ‘But to follow a young lady at night… if I was seen…’

  ‘Take the air! An evening stroll to clear the mind. A walk in the gloaming for religious reflection… Go now!’

  The urgency of MacKenzie’s words had the desired effect. Scougall was soon on the High Street. The thought of spying on Rosina was less disgraceful if she might be involved in some way. It seemed that she did not fully comprehend the enormity of the accusations against her mother and sister. Or perhaps she did not care. It was possible that she was in league with Cant, or hoped to gain from their demise. The thought was appalling. But Scougall recalled MacKenzie’s advice. He must let his mind follow all paths, wherever they led. It was necessary that they should find out as much as they could about her.

  Turning right, he spotted Rosina about fifty yards ahead of him on the empty street. The sun had almost set and it was very cold. Bending down, he pretended to tie a lace of his boot. He counted to ten before following.