A Temptress in Tartan

by Gerri Russell

  The tribunal chamber erupted in chaos. Lachlan tensed as the Lord Advocate turned away from those in the chamber to discuss what happened next with the panel of judges.

  The men gathered together; their heads bent so that Lachlan could not read their expressions as they discussed his fate. After several long, agonizing moments, the Lord Advocate turned back to Lachlan and those gathered in the chamber.

  Swinton and Godfrey’s faces held glacial hatred. Reid and King James’s expressions were that of relief. “Lachlan Douglas, Earl of March,” the Lord Advocate said in a clear loud voice. “Given the fact that Donald Ruthven fabricated many of the charges against you and based on the learned opinion of none other than King James of Scotland in all matters concerning witchcraft and sorcery, this tribunal finds you innocent of all charges against you. You are free to leave.”

  Lachlan closed his eyes, so great was his relief. He drew an easy breath.

  “Hold!”

  Lachlan’s breath stilled in his chest once more at the sound of Donald Ruthven’s voice. The laird left his place at the back of the chamber to come forward. “Since you seem unwilling or unable to charge this man with the use of sorcery, then I would like to bring up a new charge against him. A serious charge. One that should have been addressed many years ago.”

  “What the devil are you playing at, Ruthven?” the king asked with a scowl. “I’ll not have you dragging this out any further. It has been proven beyond a doubt that you fabricated the truth for your own devices.”

  “I am not playing at anything. I charge Lachlan Douglas with the murder of my wife, Janet Ruthven, twelve years ago. He is a wife-killer.”

  The words tumbled around in Lachlan’s brain. Murder. Wife-killer. Released one moment and accused of a horrendous crime the next.

  “Call my daughter, Elizabeth, to the witness box and ask her about the night before her mother died.” There was a collective intake of breath and a low murmur that followed as those gathered speculated among themselves.

  “Father, nay.” It was Elizabeth’s voice that pierced the haze around him.

  The Lord Advocate turned to the king. “Your Grace, how would you like to proceed?”

  The king’s eyes were grave. “Come forward, Elizabeth Douglas, and tell this panel about that night.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Lachlan watched Elizabeth slowly come forward. She didn’t look his way as she entered the witness box and clutched the wooden edge until her fingers turned white. Why was her father doing this to her?

  One look at Donald Ruthven’s face told Lachlan everything he needed to know. This wasn’t to hurt Elizabeth; it was all for Lachlan. This was the ultimate revenge.

  With trepidation, Lachlan watched the Lord Advocate approach. “Elizabeth Douglas, please tell this tribunal what you remember about the night before your mother died.”

  “I—I remember it was a long time ago and the details are not as clear as they once were.” Elizabeth stole a glance at Lachlan.

  He nodded encouragingly as he realized the only way for them to move forward from this moment was to get this final obstacle out into the open, even if it cost him everything he held dear. Elizabeth had told him she loved him, regardless of who he was, regardless of all that stood between their two families. Could they also move past this and into a future together? He hadn’t shared his feelings with her in return because there hadn’t been enough time before the king had come for him, but also because he’d wanted to wait to fully express his feelings once he had been cleared of all charges.

  This final charge could prove to be his undoing. For he had been at Ruthven Castle that night . . .

  “Simply tell us all that you can,” the Lord Advocate encouraged in a kind voice.

  “I was six years old. The night before my mother died, my father and the rest of the clan had been out on a raid. I did not know at the time that the raid had been against the Douglases.” Elizabeth swallowed roughly. “When the clan returned there was much celebrating and as an adult looking back now, much indulgence in mead and whisky among the men.”

  When she paused, the Lord Advocate said, “Continue please.”

  “Late that night when everyone was abed, Lachlan Douglas managed to find a way inside our castle.”

  An outbreak of conversation rippled through the chamber, causing the Lord Advocate to raise his hand, demanding silence once more. “You said Lachlan Douglas was there that night.”

  She nodded. “He was but a lad of seven at the time, and it was the night my family murdered his mother and father in that raid.”

  This time when her gaze met his, it was filled with such remorse that it rocked him clear to his toes.

  “And how did you know he was present? Did he attack?” the Lord Advocate asked.

  “Nay, I woke up to his presence beside my bed. He stood there beside me, staring at me.”

  “Did you know who he was?” the Lord Advocate asked.

  “Not at the time, but when he went to my father, I soon learned he was a Douglas.”

  “Did he have a weapon?” King James asked.

  “Was his intent to kill you in retaliation?” Hugh Godfrey demanded.

  “I cannot know his intent,” Elizabeth said, “but he had no weapon in his hands. He stared down at me for the longest time before he finally left my chamber.”

  “What happened next?” the Lord Advocate prompted.

  “I slipped from my bed, and silently followed him down the hallway to my parents’ chamber. He had crept inside and stood at the base of their bed, staring at them as he had done to me. My father must have sensed his presence because he woke and sat up. My mother remained sleeping.”

  Lachlan could see Elizabeth’s hands trembling as she continued. “Lachlan did not attack, nor did my father, but I heard Lachlan curse my family,” she said in a pained voice.

  “What did he say exactly?” Hugh Godfrey asked with a hint of a smile.

  Elizabeth’s gaze shifted to the panel. Lachlan recognized the fear in her eyes and knew what she said next would not bode well for him.

  “He said, ‘I curse you and your family. May what you reaped this day return to you tenfold.’ And with that, he disappeared from the castle.”

  “And how did all that affect your mother?” the Lord Advocate prompted.

  Tears came to Elizabeth’s eyes and rolled down her cheeks. “My father found her dead beside him the following morning.”

  “He cursed the Ruthvens!” John Swinton exclaimed. “He killed Lady Ruthven!”

  Hugh Godfrey stood and flipped his massive Bible open. “It says here in the book of Isaiah: ‘Seek unto them that have familiar spirits, and unto wizards that peep, and that mutter: should not a people seek unto their God? For the living to the dead? To the law and to the testimony: if they speak not according to this word, it is because there is no light in them.’” Godfrey looked up from the page and seared Lachlan with contempt. “There is no light in this man, therefore he is evil according to the word of God.”

  Shocked disbelief erupted throughout the chamber.

  “He is a warlock!”

  “The Devil does possess him!”

  “Burn the sorcerer!”

  Lachlan felt Elizabeth’s gaze upon him as her tears fell all the harder. The noise in the chamber was deafening as the shouts for justice against him continued. He tried to communicate to his wife that he did not blame her for telling the truth, and he realized perhaps they should have discussed what had happened before their marriage, but he’d had no idea that she’d remembered that night until now. And she’d married him anyway.

  When the noise settled down, the Lord Advocate swung toward Lachlan. “Are the events Elizabeth has confessed before this tribunal true?”

  Lachlan’s heart froze in his chest. He could not deny anything, and because of it, he would now be put to death for cursing the family who had murdered his parents.

  “I asked you,” the Lord Advocate boomed in his silen
ce, “does she tell us the truth?”

  Tearing his gaze from Elizabeth’s, he said, “Aye. I cursed the Ruthvens for murdering my parents and leaving me an orphan, but I do not claim that my words held any sort of power over Lady Ruthven’s death.”

  The Lord Advocate addressed Elizabeth once more. “Was your mother ill prior to that night?”

  “She complained of a headache.”

  He turned his attention to Donald Ruthven. “Did anyone examine the body before her burial?”

  “Nay,” her father replied, “because we all knew it was Lachlan Douglas who killed her.”

  The Lord Advocate’s brows furrowed. “Why did you not pursue charges against this man at that time? And if you suspected foul play, why did you allow your daughter to marry him?”

  Donald Ruthven’s shoulders stiffened. “Her marriage ’twas a business transaction between the king and queen and myself at first. But after the marriage, and when I saw the true nature of the man she had wed, I was determined to do anything to see her returned safely to her clan.”

  The Lord Advocate shifted to Elizabeth in what was becoming a macabre back and forth of her father’s word versus her own. “Is that your wish as well—to return to the familiarity and safety of your clan? Because, as of last night, you willingly consummated your marriage, creating a bond no one but God can tear asunder.”

  Elizabeth’s cheeks flamed red as someone in the crowded chamber released a laugh that was quickly choked. She lifted her chin and replied, “He is my husband, and what passes between a husband and wife is perfectly natural and normal.”

  Her father’s face turned red for an entirely different reason. “You gave yourself to the man who murdered your mother?”

  Elizabeth looked straight ahead, almost as if she refused to look at her father. “I do not believe he murdered my mother. It is my belief that she simply died. And while her death broke my heart, I cannot think that a seven-year-old boy in pain over the death of his own parents—whom my own family readily admits to killing—could take my mother’s life with so little effort.” She straightened and allowed her gaze to travel over each member of the panel. “I do not believe in curses. I will never give evil that kind of power over my rational mind.”

  Hugh Godfrey looked like he personally wanted to throttle her, but he remained silent.

  “Thank you for your testimony, Elizabeth.” The Lord Advocate motioned for her to return to her place as he turned back to the panel and the judges bent their heads together, no doubt discussing how to proceed.

  Hugh Godfrey’s gaze caught Lachlan’s. It was filled with grim amusement before he turned back to the others. But that brief look told Lachlan everything he needed to know. He had been a free man for only a moment, and now he would die for something he had done as a child. Ruthven and Hugh Godfrey would see to that.

  King James left his position at the tribunal table and moved toward one of the guards. He spoke in a low voice to the man, and when he had finished, the guard left the chamber and the king returned to his seat.

  It was several moments later before the Lord Advocate stood and faced the room. “Lord Douglas, there is much to consider here, and the tribunal finds we need further testing to determine the truth.”

  At the mention of more ‘testing’ Lachlan felt his blood freeze in his veins. Did they truly mean testing or was there more torture in his future? He wasn’t certain how much more he could tolerate of John Swinton’s special brand of justice. If he got the chance, the man would press him beyond the point of his endurance, and as so many others before him, he would say whatever the man wanted to hear just to make the torture stop.

  *

  Elizabeth shut her eyes against the image of her husband being tortured once more. And if he was, this time it would be because of her testimony. She would send him to the hangman’s noose and eventually the flames, just as had happened to the two unfortunate women at the market cross a few days before.

  The shame of what she had done filled her in equal proportion to the hatred that grew for her father. He had lied to her for the whole of her life . . . and now this . . . He would take away the one person who had been honest with her from the start.

  Lachlan was not her enemy; he was the man whom she loved.

  A stir in the chamber brought Elizabeth out of her worrisome thoughts as the guard the king had sent out of the chamber returned with a strange-looking gadget in his hands. The king accepted what the guard offered as he stood and addressed the chamber. “I have read about this divination device in one of the books of Occult Philosophy written by Cornelius Agrippa and have always wanted to try it.”

  At the words, some of the color returned to Lachlan’s face. Was this the test the tribunal had discussed among themselves? And would they issue it in the tribunal chamber and not at the hands of John Swinton? A seed of hope took root inside Elizabeth.

  The king placed what looked like a pair of shears and a sieve upon the table before him. “The Greeks used a technique called coscinomancy to determine a guilty party in a criminal offense. And since we cannot decide among ourselves whether Lachlan Douglas summoned spirits on the night of Janet Ruthven’s death or not, or if he is indeed guilty of murder or if Janet’s death was an unfortunate accident, we will let the coscinomancy decide.”

  The king motioned for both Lachlan and Donald Ruthven to take up a position in front of all those gathered in the tribunal chamber. Elizabeth drew a suffocated breath as the chamber filled with tension so thick it seemed to weigh her down. This contraption, whatever it was, would decide Lachlan’s fate?

  “Why am I a part of this trial now? I have done nothing but try to bring forth the truth!” Donald Ruthven’s voice rose in surprise. “I refuse to be a part of this test of yours.”

  The king’s eyes narrowed in anger. “If you’ve told us the truth, then you have nothing to fear. Is there something you wish to tell this tribunal? Some point you wish to elaborate upon?”

  Her father pointed to Lachlan. “This man has done unspeakable things, and yet now you wish to punish me? This is ridiculous.” He turned and moved toward the door, but the guards stopped him and hauled him back to the front of the chamber to stand beside Lachlan.

  Her father’s face was filled with menace. “Against my will I will participate, but soon you will all know the truth,” he hissed. “The bastard is guilty of murder! This man destroyed my life, and my daughter’s life after taking Janet away from us.”

  There was an edge in her father’s voice that Elizabeth had never heard before and it made her heart freeze. She could see the battle going on in her father’s mind as he clenched and unclenched hands that were held firmly at his sides by the guards.

  Ignoring her father’s outbursts, the king motioned to the panel behind him. “Reid Douglas and Hugh Godfrey, please stand facing each other before these two men.” When they were in position, King James picked up the sieve and shears. “This device is said to combine the natural world with the divine. What results it gives us come directly from God.”

  The king placed the large shears between the two men. “Hold the shears suspended, using only your middle finger.” Once the shears were in place, he positioned the wide outer rim of the sieve between the cutting edges of the blades. As soon as the sieve was in place it was impossible to keep the contraption still and it started to shift back and forth.

  King James picked up a piece of parchment from which he read: “Dies, Meis, Juschet, Benedoefet, Dowima, and Enitemaus.” As soon as he finished, the sieve started to shudder first left, then right. “Now I will call out each of your names. The moment the guilty party is pronounced, the culprit will be instantly known to us.” The king set down the parchment and straightened. “Let us proceed.”

  Fear and hope twisted through Elizabeth in equal measures. Either her father or Lachlan would be pronounced guilty. She feared either outcome for very different reasons. If Lachlan were guilty, he would definitely hang. If her father were guilty, then
he might ultimately hang as well.

  Hugh Godfrey and Reid Douglas stared at each other, locked in a battle that fate would soon decide. Each man willed the device between them to prognosticate in their favor: Reid for Lachlan, Hugh for Donald.

  Elizabeth’s heart was beating so hard she could feel its thunder in every part of her body.

  “I present,” the king said, raising his voice so that all could hear, “Lachlan Douglas and Donald Ruthven. Do as you will, oh divine device, as you are guided by God’s own hand.”

  A hushed silence fell over the chamber, and everyone leaned forward to see the device twist left toward Lachlan and then right toward her father. It shuddered, then stopped, directly in front of her father.

  The crowd gasped.

  Instead of relief, Lachlan’s features were still strained as his gaze sought out her own. What she read there—the sympathy and love—made her heart pound all the harder. He understood how difficult this moment was for her. This moment hurt her deeper than she had expected it to. Her father had lied to her. She didn’t need a strange divining rod to tell her that. She’d come to realize almost immediately after her wedding to Lachlan, that her father would do just about anything, even use his only daughter, to continue to exact revenge upon his enemy.

  His enemy, not hers.

  Even so, the man was still her father. She stepped forward, and dropped into a deep curtsy. “Please, Your Grace, I beg you to have mercy upon my father. He has not been honest, but that does not mean he is beyond redemption.” Elizabeth was so nervous she was shaking.

  “You would have me be merciful to your father after all he has done to both you and Lachlan? That is not how justice works. And I have looked the other way with matters concerning the Ruthvens for far too long.”

  Donald Ruthven scowled at the king but remained silent.

  Despite the fact she knew she should do the same, Elizabeth felt compelled to at least try to influence the king in some way. She looked at him and hoped he could read the sincerity in her eyes. “I can forgive my father for all he has done. Can you . . .” Her voice trailed off when she saw the king’s expression harden at what he regarded as pleading. If she continued, she would only make things worse. “What will you do to him?”