by Douglas Watt
The result on this occasion was a pleasing one. He made sound contact, launching the ball into a perfect parabola. It landed about a hundred and eighty yards away in the middle of the fairway.
The two men gathered their clubs. The weather was fine, the day possessing the freshness of autumn, the sky a glorious blue, the grass of Leith Links a lush green.
‘Is this not a day to treasure, Davie?’
‘It is a grand one, sir. I might appreciate it better if this cold would lift.’
‘Now, before I forget. I have been asked by Sir John Foulis of Ravelston and the Lord Clerk Register to make up a party,’ said MacKenzie. ‘I have told Sir John that I will bring a partner. I mentioned your name.’
‘I would be most honoured, sir.’ Scougall was thrilled to hear of an opportunity to show off his golfing skills in such exalted company.
‘Excellent. I may wager a pound or two on the result.’
‘I do not gamble, sir,’ Scougall said seriously.
‘I did not expect that you would, Davie. But you would not deny another man his pleasure?’
The conversation stopped when they reached MacKenzie’s ball. He addressed it with an iron, swung inelegantly and threw a large divot into the air. The ball came to rest about thirty yards away.
He swore angrily in Gaelic, before continuing in English: ‘The frustrations of golf! Always raising expectations only to crush them the next moment!’ He walked forward to play his third shot. ‘Have you received your invitation?’ he asked casually.
MacKenzie’s question lowered Scougall’s flagging spirits further. It was three months since he had heard the news of Elizabeth’s engagement to Seaforth’s brother, but it still caused a sinking feeling. He knew he had no right to feel jealous. After all, he was only her father’s clerk and of lower standing in society. She was the great-grand-daughter of MacKenzie of Kintail. But he had fantasised about a future with her.
‘I am most honoured, sir. I look forward to it very much,’ he lied. ‘How do preparations proceed?’
‘They go well, Davie. Of course Elizabeth takes great care with everything. The Earl and I are still negotiating about the tocher.’
Scougall was now addressing his ball, which was snugly encased in thick grass. It would be a challenging shot. He put Elizabeth to the back of his mind. After a couple of practice swings he played, but made heavy contact. The ball landed on the fairway a dozen yards away. He closed his eyes. This was most unlike him. He had not played so badly in years.
Before MacKenzie could return to the subject of his daughter’s marriage, Scougall moved the conversation in another direction. ‘I hear the execution is to take place tomorrow, sir.’
‘Poor creature,’ replied MacKenzie.
‘But she is a witch. She has confessed to her crimes.’
‘She is just an ignorant woman, Davie.’
‘She has sold herself to Satan!’ Scougall grew animated, forgetting his cold. ‘Three confessing witches saw her at meetings with the Devil. Her magic caused the deaths of two women and a child. And…’ he hesitated as his face reddened, ‘she confessed to copulation with Satan.’
‘Copulation with Satan!’ MacKenzie replied mockingly. ‘Well, well. I do not believe she is a witch, Davie.’
‘But Satan, sir…’
‘I have grave doubts about the crime of witchcraft. I believe it is nothing more than superstition. There are also a number of legal concerns. I assume you have read Rosehaugh’s Criminal Law on the subject.’
‘I have not, sir.’
‘The Lord Advocate, or should I say ex-Lord Advocate, may be of a gloomy disposition, but he is a perceptive lawyer…’
‘These are dangerous times for Scotland,’ Scougall interrupted. ‘The Devil is amongst us. He seeks to lead us astray.’
Noticing Scougall’s morose mood, MacKenzie decided to say no more on the subject for the moment. The young lawyer’s words had brought back dark memories. He saw himself standing at the edge of a crowd in Edinburgh in 1658, almost thirty years before. He could still hear the screams as she was dragged to the stake, recanting her sins, begging to be saved. For the alleged crime of changing herself into a great dog, meeting with the Devil and fornicating with him, she was burned to ashes. MacKenzie shook his head. That same year a hermaphrodite had been executed for lying with a mare, and two young boys burnt on the Castle Hill for buggery. The superstitious nonsense that was believed in Scotland! The witch-hunt following the Restoration of Charles in 1660 had been, if anything, even more vicious. The words of Cicero came to him, as they often did: ‘Nam, ut vere loquamur, superstitio fusa per gentis oppressit omnium fere animos atque hominum imbecillitatem occupavit.’ He looked at Scougall and shook his head. The young man had much to learn.
Testament of a Witch
Available in Paperback and as an eBook
Paperback ISBN: 978-1-908373-21-2
eBook ISBN: 978-1-909912-29-8
Set in the 17th century against the backdrop of political and religious con-flict, the second of Watt’s John MacKenzie series is as historically rich and gripping as the last. MacKenzie investigates the murder of a woman accused of witchcraft and he must act quickly when the same accusations are made against the woman’s daughter. Superstition clashes with reason as Scotland moves towards the Enlightenment. The 1600s are expertly recreated with a strong sense of history and place.
Visit: http://www.luath.co.uk/testament-of-a-witch-a-format.html for more information.
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