The Secret Clan: The Complete Series

by Amanda Scott

  “What charges?” Beth cried. “I have heard only nonsense about devil’s marks, bewitchment, and casting spells. Unless I am mistaken, the so-called devil’s mark is naught but where a rooster pecked my foot three days ago. I’ve cast no spells, nor have I ever communicated with the devil.”

  The King’s advocate said, “We are told you are a maidservant, mistress, yet you stand before us today clad in fine clothing, your headdress and heels glittering with valuable gemstones. How do you account for that if not by witchcraft?”

  “They were lent to me,” Beth said, striving to retain her dignity. She knew if she revealed the source of the clothing, they would not believe her. Moreover, she would be left standing in her smock, which would surely confirm all they believed of her. She added desperately, “Those jewels must be only bits of colored glass!”

  “Easily proved,” Sir William said. “Pull off a shoe, lass, and hand it to me.”

  Eagerly, certain that she had made a point at last, she obeyed, prying off one of the larger jewels and handing it to him. He put it on the floor and stepped hard on it with his heel. The piece shattered.

  “There, you see!” she exclaimed.

  “Your eminence, the wench has proved the case against herself,” Thomas Craig said. “These depositions clearly state that the jewels she wore last night were genuine. Since she has had no visitors, the only way they can be glass now is if she turned them into glass herself!”

  “But I did no such thing! They were glass last night, too!”

  Beaton said, “I fear that in your foolishness you have given Mr. Craig all the evidence he requires. There is one more who wishes to speak, however.” He nodded to the man-at-arms who had spoken to him earlier.

  The man said clearly, “When my men and I met that wench on the road a few days past, she were some’un else, some’un called Lady Elizabeth Douglas. She carried a falcon, and the great dog named as her familiar were with her, too.”

  Beth struggled to maintain her calm, trying to imagine what Patrick would do. She could imagine him scolding, but beyond that… Then, as if he whispered in her ear, she could hear him say that if one had to lie, one should do it with fortitude.

  The thought of lying made her feel sick, but she said firmly, “That was not I. They do say that there are hundreds in Scotland that look like me, however.”

  “It is your word against his then,” Beaton said, “but God will sort it out. In the meantime, I believe we are in agreement.”

  “No,” she cried, collapsing to her stool when her knees failed her.

  “Elspeth Douglas,” Beaton intoned, “we find you guilty of witchcraft and treason, and sentence you to death by burning, in the yard between the Tolbooth and the Marykirk at noon on Saturday next.”

  “But I am innocent!”

  “Then you have nothing to fear,” Beaton said. “God watches over innocents, and since Saturday is the day before Easter, if you are innocent, I warrant He will allow you, too, to rise again on Easter Sunday.”

  Claud stared at Lucy in dismay. “That surely didna go as I’d hoped.”

  “He said if the jewels were real, she mun be a witch.”

  “Aye, so I turned them tae glass,” Claud said.

  “And he said that could happen only an she were a witch.”

  Claud sighed. “I dinna understand mortals, and that be plain fact.”

  “Aye,” Lucy agreed. “But what will we do now?”

  “I dinna ken,” Claud said as they watched the guards take Beth back to her cell. “Me mam said I ha’ tae fix it, and here she’s gone off again.”

  “I think we should ask me dad,” Lucy said. “He’s right clever, is me dad.”

  “Nay,” Claud said. “I told ye, I willna go tae the man till I ken his true name. D’ye no ken summat that could help me?”

  “I might,” Lucy said. “Let me think a bit.”

  “Well, dinna think long. She’ll be burnt tae a crisp in three days’ time.”

  “Oh, Claud,” Lucy said, “dinna be vexed.” She leaned closer, moving her hands expertly over his body. “Let me show ye summat new that I learned.”

  “Lass, I canna rest till we ha’ a plan and I learn your father’s true name!”

  Lucy sagged, her chin on her chest. “I’ll think then,” she muttered grumpily.

  “Aye, that’s good,” said Claud.

  Patrick, Fin, and Molly spent the latter part of the morning discussing Beth’s predicament, but although they talked over many ideas, no plan seemed feasible.

  “In truth,” Molly said, “until we learn whether Mother can persuade the King to help, there is little we can do.” Wistfully, she added, “If only Fin were free to gather the Mackenzies and MacRaes. Then we could rescue her!”

  Patrick exchanged a look with Fin and said, “Even if he could, most of them are in the Highlands. We’d do better to talk to Huntly. He is one of the most powerful lords in Scotland, and he is your cousin, Molly, and therefore Beth’s as well. Moreover, he is here in Stirling for the festivities.”

  “Aye, but he supports Beaton,” Fin reminded him. “I doubt he would do anything the cardinal might perceive as undermining to his power.”

  Patrick suspected Fin was right, but it seemed foolhardy to dismiss the powerful chief of the Gordons without even consulting him.

  Looking worried, Molly said, “Beaton clearly does not think himself bound by his debt to you, Patrick. Do you think he’ll keep his word about Fin’s release?”

  “I don’t know,” Patrick said honestly. When a single rap at the door heralded Jock’s hasty entrance, he relieved part of his frustration by snapping, “What do you mean by entering without awaiting proper leave?”

  “Sorry,” Jock said, “but they’ve sentenced Mistress Beth tae burn on Saturday! How’ll we stop ’em?”

  Stunned silence greeted his words.

  Patrick could not breathe, let alone speak.

  Kintail recovered first. “I thought you told us Beaton said the trial would not take place until tomorrow or Thursday.”

  “That’s what he told me,” Patrick said grimly. “He must have known even then that her trial was but an hour away. By heaven, if one spends an eternity in hell for murdering a cardinal, then I—”

  “Murdering him would not help Beth,” Molly snapped. “Think, Patrick!”

  He took a deep breath. “Did you see her, Jock?”

  “Aye.”

  “H-how is she?”

  Jock shrugged, clearly not sure, for once, what to say. He muttered, “One o’ them louts what brought her back tae her cell tried tae take liberties, but Thunder growled at him, and the lout snatched his hand back straightaway.”

  Speechless again, Patrick yearned to have one moment alone with the lout.

  Fin said curiously, “Do you mean to say that dog was there, Jock, the one that came with the three of you to Stirling?”

  “Aye,” Jock said. “He waited on the ground outside o’ her window wi’ me after they took her away.”

  “I am glad he prevented the guard from harming her,” Molly said. “But why would the man pay him any heed if Thunder was outside a barred window?”

  “I dunno,” Jock replied, “but he snatched his hand back as if Mistress Beth was red-hot. Thunder be gey big, ye ken, and he looks fierce when he growls.”

  Patrick collected his wits. “Where is he now?”

  “He wouldna come away, and Mistress Beth said I shouldna try tae drag him,” Jock said. “Them guards will find a way tae shoo him off afore long, though.”

  The three adults looked helplessly at one another.

  Frustrated, Patrick said, “I cannot even think. My mind fails to focus.”

  “I know how it is,” Fin said, looking at Molly, who was visibly holding back tears. “I’ve felt that way myself. Making decisions and acting on them is easier when failure does not mean the death of the one you love.”

  The last words struck Patrick hard. “Beth must not die,” he said.r />
  From the doorway, Nell said, “She won’t. You will speak to the King.”

  Molly ran to her. “You talked with his grace! What did he say?”

  “Thank you,” Patrick said fervently.

  Nell hugged Molly but looked over her shoulder at Patrick. “I think you owe your thanks to that splendid hawk you trained. Jamie is quite taken with him, and has agreed to speak with you and Fin after supper. I am to take you to him.”

  “Not sooner?” Patrick said. “Did you not tell him how urgent this is? Beth is locked in a filthy cell, probably terrified out of her wits. I want her out, madam!”

  “Pray, sir, calm yourself. I did not try to argue her case to him because I do not know exactly what they have accused her of doing, what laws may apply, or what evidence they have. Nor would Jamie have heeded such argument from me,” she added with a wry smile as she and Molly sat together on an oak settle nearby.

  “Then what did you say?” Patrick asked.

  Arranging her skirts, Nell said, “I told him she is my daughter and the wife of the man who not only trained his precious hawk but risked his life to prevent an invasion of Scotland. Do calm yourself now, for you will gain nothing by making angry demands of his grace. We must all scheme a little beforehand, I think.”

  “I could be calmer if I could see Beth,” Patrick said.

  “Well, you cannot,” Nell said. “They won’t let anyone visit a condemned witch or traitor.”

  “Mayhap they will,” Jock said thoughtfully.

  “How?” Patick demanded.

  “I ha’ been watching the guards, ye ken,” the boy said. “They think I come tae see me dad, so they pay me little heed, and I ha’ seen them let other men in when they bring messages for the warden.”

  “Do they not send a guard to show them the way?” Molly asked.

  “Nay,” Jock said. “Only if the chap asks how he should go. Since ye dinna ken her window, I could tell ’em I’ll take ye tae the warden.”

  “What of Bab, Patrick?” Molly asked. “You should talk to Lord and Lady Chisholm, and arrange for her to accompany them tomorrow.”

  “I’ll do it,” Fin said. “I’ll send a message to Chisholm to come to me here.”

  “You’ve my thanks then,” Patrick said. “Tell the lass I’ll get to her as soon as I can, but that in the meantime she is to behave herself as if I were with her.”

  “Oh, aye,” Fin said with a chuckle. “I’ll tell her.”

  Knowing he could leave Bab in Fin’s capable hands, Patrick turned to the boy. “Let’s go, Jock. I mean to see my lass.”

  Beth sat on the hard bench in her bleak cell, trying hard not to think about the great burning. The other women seemed resigned to their fate, and their conversation did not help.

  She wanted to speak to Maggie Malloch, to ask her for help, but she feared Maggie would refuse. After all, if she had returned to the Farnsworth chambers, as she was supposed to, she would not have been with Patrick when the cardinal’s men came. Of course, if she had not gone to the ball, none of it would have happened—nor, she realized, would she be Patrick’s wife now.

  Tears welled in her eyes, but whatever happened and strange though it seemed, she was his wife. No one had mentioned her marriage at the trial, and she wondered if it would have done any good to shout her new name at them. Perhaps they simply would have accused her—as Lady Farnsworth had—of bewitching Patrick. Indeed, that charge was probably in one of their horrid depositions.

  “Beth!”

  With a cry of joy she looked up and saw Patrick’s face at the window.

  “You came!”

  “Aye, sweetheart, I’m here, for all the good it will do you.”

  “But why must you peer down at me from up there? Will they not let you in to speak to me?” She wanted his arms around her, holding her tight.

  “Nay, lass,” he said. “You can have no visitors. Beaton’s orders, I suspect.”

  “I thought he was your friend!”

  “He is not,” Patrick growled, adding, “I cannot stay long, sweetheart, for someone will soon demand to know why I am here. Jock is keeping watch with Thunder, so we should have a few moments. Are you all right?”

  “Aye,” she said, valiantly trying to look as if that were true and knowing that she failed miserably. She wanted him to kiss her.

  “Oh, lassie, I want to hold you,” he murmured, putting his hand between the bars and reaching down.

  She jumped onto the bench. By stretching, she could reach him.

  Squeezing her hand hard, he said, “I’ll do all I can. You know I will.”

  “Why did you not come to my trial?”

  “Beaton told me it would not be until tomorrow or Thursday. He lied.”

  “They said you wanted to vouch for me but could not give any facts to contradict the charges.”

  “That is true enough,” he muttered.

  “Oh, Patrick, I would tell you everything if I could!”

  “That is not necessary, sweetheart. I know you did not make any pact with the devil or betray the King.”

  She wanted him to believe in her, but she could not help asking, “How can you be sure of that?”

  “I just am,” he said with a gentle smile. “Apparently, you have something in common with your sister besides your looks.”

  “What?”

  “We should not discuss that now,” he said. “I don’t know what consequences may result, and I won’t take the chance that they may be disastrous.”

  He seemed to be trying to tell her something without putting it into words, and she had a feeling that somehow he knew about Maggie. But she dared not ask if he did. The thought that he might know gave her an odd sense of comfort, but when she heard Jock calling to him, she wanted to cry.

  “Don’t go yet.”

  “I must,” he said, “but I’ll think of something, sweetheart. Have fortitude.”

  “How can you say that to me at such a time?” she asked.

  “ ’Tis the watchword I live by, lass. It has seen me through much, and if there were ever a time to trust it, this is that time. I’ll say one other thing, too, though, because whatever happens, you should know. I love you, Beth, now and forever.”

  With one last warm squeeze, he let go of her hand.

  “Oh, Patrick…” Tears choked her voice, but when she swallowed them, he was gone. She collapsed to the bench, buried her face in her hands, and wept until she could weep no more. The murmur of voices from the other cells had stopped when she first spoke to him. No one offered comfort now, for they had none to offer, and she was afraid that she had no fortitude left.

  After Patrick and Jock returned to the castle, there were still several hours left before Fin and Patrick’s appointment with the King, but when Patrick suggested that they discuss their options, his oldest and best friend ordered him to sleep.

  “I cannot. We must think of a plan.”

  “Don’t be an ass,” Fin said. “You’ll think better if you sleep, and you’ll be much less likely to offend his grace. We need his help. Now, go.”

  Jock woke him in good time, bringing a tray of food, which he set now on the table under the window.

  “Good lad,” Patrick said, tousling his curls.

  “Aye, well, it be nae cause for messin’ me hair,” Jock said indignantly. Twenty minutes later, Patrick met Nell and Fin and went with them to the King’s private chamber. When they entered, they found James sitting in his favorite armchair, and to Patrick’s surprise, Zeus was on a perch beside him.

  “Come in, come in,” the King said heartily. “Sir Patrick, my thanks earlier for training this amazing creature were insufficient. Look what he can do now.”

  James reached out a gloved fist, and when the hawk stepped onto it, he stroked its wings and back for a moment before he murmured, “Watch this.”

  To Patrick’s astonishment, James turned the hawk gently onto its back, and it lay in his lap, letting him stroke its soft belly.

 
; “Have you ever seen the like?” James demanded.

  “Never,” Patrick replied, as delighted as James. “I’ve heard of less aggressive birds allowing such liberties, but never a gos.”

  “This one is certainly extraordinary,” James said. “But I am told you want to speak to me about a particular matter. I do not know if I can help, but mayhap we will think of something.”

  Nell said quietly, “Will you permit me to remain, sire? She is my daughter.”

  “I know that you say she is, madam.”

  “I am sure that she is,” Nell said.

  “If the gentlemen do not object, you may stay. It is good to see you again, too, Kintail. I trust your accommodations remain satisfactory.”

  “As to that, sire,” Patrick said, seizing the opportunity, “I know that his eminence has spoken to you about the agreement we made. I had hoped we might have heard good news by now.”

  James looked bewildered. Continuing to stroke the hawk’s belly, he said, “What agreement is this? I know of none concerning Kintail. Davy Beaton has not mentioned his name to me.”

  Chapter 23

  Patrick’s sense of betrayal was stunning. He felt as if a void had opened inside where once he had known who he was and what he believed.

  “What is it, sir?”

  “Sir Patrick, are you ill?”

  “Patrick.”

  He heard Nell and James as if from a great distance, but when Fin spoke his name in that particular tone, he turned automatically, albeit blindly, toward him.

  “I know exactly what you feel, but you must set it aside,” Fin said.

  “You do not know how I feel.”

  “Look at me.”

  Patrick blinked, focused, saw the anxiety in his friend’s eyes, and forced his mind to focus. “You cannot know,” he said, wanting to shout the words but somehow lacking the energy.

  Fin glanced at James, then met Patrick’s angry gaze. “You feel betrayed clear down to your soul,” he said. “You gave your loyalty to a man, believing in him, knowing he trusted you and believing you could trust him, but he failed you.”