The Betrayal of Maggie Blair

Chapter 9

The second night in the tolbooth was bad, but nowhere near as bad as the first. Mr. Brown closed the shutter, and although it was cold, we were spared the howling gale. He even gave us a blanket—a coarse thing smelling of horses and full of fleas—but it kept out some of the chill. We had porridge in our bellies too. Best of all was the hope that Mr. Robertson would soften the feelings against us and make sure that the court judged us fairly.

The knock came on the door when dawn had barely broken. I woke to the sound of the bolts scraping as Mr. Brown drew them back. I expected Mr. Robertson's light step, but instead of the tap of his leather-soled shoes, I heard the clang of iron-tipped boots and spurs ringing on the stone floor. The door swung open, and the sheriff's men came in.

"Come on, you idle hag. The court's waiting," one of them said, hauling Granny to her feet.

We were outside in the square a few moments later, our stomachs empty and our hair disheveled.

"Where's Mr. Robertson?" Granny asked.

One of the men laughed.

"You'll not be seeing him today. Word has come from Paisley. The court's to be held by the elders of Rothesay. Your precious Mr. Robertson's been sent back to Kingarth, where he belongs. The man's soft in the head when it comes to you. They'll get the right verdict here. They'll see that justice is done."

That's when I knew, in my deepest heart, that there was to be no justice for Granny and me, and that we had been condemned even before a word was spoken in the court. My knees felt like water, and my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. It was all I could do to walk the short distance to the Session House without falling to the ground.

***

Oh, they were a dour and solemn lot, those elders, sitting around a long table, their beefy hands laid out on the boards. They had been talking quietly, gray heads bent close to each other, but they fell into a chilling silence as we came in. I was so afraid that I could barely stand for shaking. Even so, I noticed that one or two of them looked at us with more doubt than disgust. I took from that a little spark of courage, hoping that a few of their minds had still to be made up.

The grand chair at the head of the table was empty. The man beside it stood up and cleared his throat.

"Sir James Stewart, the sheriff, is absent on state duty, and I am empowered to open this court and to pass judgment," he pronounced. "A very serious charge has been brought against these women. They are said to be witches, users of malefice or witchcraft, and consorters with the Evil One." He looked down at the paper in front of him. "It is claimed that they have brought about, through their curses, the death of the boy Ebenezer Macbean, that they raised a storm that destroyed crops and sank a fishing boat with the loss of four lives, and that..." He picked the paper up, read the words slowly, shook his head with disgust, and went on, "that they took part in a witches' Sabbath where they did lewdly give themselves in lust to the Devil and did mate with him."

I glanced sideways at Granny. The sinews of her neck were taut, standing out like strings, and her jaws were clamped together. I knew her temper was rising and that the result would be disastrous. I tried to take her hand, but she shook me off. She was staring boldly at our accuser.

"I know you, Duncan Lamont." Her voice was loaded with contempt. "You're in the pocket of that greedy miser John Macbean. He's filled your head with his lies. He wants my cottage and my field—that's what this is all about. What did he promise you to bring this false charge against us?"

"Granny, stop it! Granny, don't!" I whispered, clutching at her sleeve. It was too late. A flush was rising in Mr. Lamont's cheeks.

"Hold your tongue, Elspeth Wylie," he said furiously. He turned to the clerk, who was scratching away with his quill on a long roll of paper beside him. "Note down what the accused has said. Add the charge of slander to her other crimes. Now let the first witness come forward."

It was then that I saw our accusers, sitting in shadow under the window. Mr. Macbean was there of course, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees. He was turning his broad-brimmed hat around and around in his hands. Annie was beside him, her eyes darting nervously around the court. But what made my heart sink even further was the sight of Mr. McKirdy from Ambrisbeg, Mr. Wilson from Ambrismore, and four or five others from Scalpsie, who had been shouted at and cursed by Granny many times in the past. They were staring at her with cold triumph in their eyes.

"John Macbean, the first witness," called Mr. Lamont.

Mr. Macbean stepped forward to the table, almost tripping over in his eagerness.

"The witch Elspeth Wylie laid a sickness on my son the night that he was born by placing him in a basket and swinging him around the hearth," he began. He was staring at a point in the wall behind Mr. Lamont's head and spoke as if he was reciting a text he'd learned. "She cursed the child at his christening in the hearing of many people present." I saw the row of witnesses nodding in agreement. "Ebenezer died from her cursing."

I was reliving that terrible morning, remembering how Granny's anger had seared the very air around her, how Mrs. Macbean had cowered on the horse over the baby in her arms, and how the party of guests had stared at Granny with horror in their eyes. Without meaning to, I stepped away from Granny. I had feared her then too. I had thought she meant to harm Ebenezer.

The witnesses were called one by one. Granny had put a spell on a cow and stopped its milk, they said. She had laid an enchantment on a field so that nothing would grow in it. She had brought sickness to a farmer and his wife and made their goat miscarry its kids. None of it was true. Granny had done none of these things, but I could see that our neighbors were sincere. They believed in her guilt. And Granny had brought it on herself. She had wanted to make herself powerful. She had tried to make them fear her. She had succeeded too well.

At last came the call I was dreading.

"Let the servant girl Annie step forward," Mr. Lamont said.

Annie had had time to compose herself. She no longer looked like a scared little rabbit. She put on the innocent, sickly smile that I now knew signaled a string of lies was about to tumble out of her pretty false mouth.

"Maggie's just as much in it too," she said, daring to look at me as if she was sorry for what she had to say. "She called up a whale to lie on the beach at Scalpsie Bay. It was an evil spirit. I saw her talking with it."

I wanted to shout out, She's lying! It's not true! but I was paralyzed with the shock of it.

It was a surprise to the court too. They were looking at me with narrowed, suspicious eyes.

"And I heard her and the old woman talk," Annie went on, not daring to look at me now. She put her head charmingly to one side as if she was trying to remember. "They said they would dig up the body of Ebenezer Macbean and make a pie of his head and feet and hands."

"No!" I shouted, over the horrified buzz of talk. "That's a horrible thing to say! I would never think of such a thing! I love babies!"

"Be quiet, girl," Mr. Lamont rapped out. "What else do you have to say, Annie?"

She hesitated. I could tell by the way she was bunching handfuls of skirt in her fists that the lies she was about to tell frightened even her. She looked back at Mr. Macbean almost pleadingly. He frowned back and nodded sharply.

"Go on, girl."

"There was a—a witches' Sabbath at Ambrisbeg. I saw them all, those two and others, dancing, and there was music, and then—the Devil came."

"Ha, the Devil! What were you doing, miss, running around at Ambrisbeg in the middle of the night?" Granny scoffed.

It was the question everyone had wanted to ask. They leaned forward to look at Annie more closely.

"I had lost something precious," Annie said. "A silver buckle."

I was so startled by her cheek that I stepped forward with my fists clenched in the air. The sheriff's man pulled me back.

"I didn't dare tell my mistress," Annie went on, "in case she was angry with me for being careless. I waited till everyone was asleep, then I went out to look for it. The moon was up, and I thought it would shine on the path. I'd lost it on the way home from Ambrisbeg, where I'd gone to ask for eggs for Ebenezer's christening."

I couldn't stand it any longer.

"She's lying about the buckle! It was my buckle, from my father! She stole it from behind our salt box!" My voice was half strangled with outrage.

Annie ignored me.

"I heard music and a piper, and I went to look." She pointed at Granny. "That woman there, Mistress Wylie, she was dancing and she had no clothes on."

"Ha-ha! That would have been a sight! It would have frightened more than the Devil!" Granny's spontaneous laughter actually produced a smile from one or two of the judges.

"It didn't frighten the Devil," Annie said sweetly. "I saw him there." She was staring at the wall now, like Mr. Macbean had done earlier.

"What was he like, the Devil?" Mr. Lamont said, with the curiosity everyone was feeling. "Come, Annie. Don't be afraid. Speak up."

"He was a big, tall man, dark, with gray clothes on. He—he took Mistress Wylie in his arms, and she cried out, By horse and hattock, or something, and then she threw a magic substance on the fire and up flew a stick, and she and the Devil flew on it into the air and then they—" She stopped and looked around, blushing as if she was too pure to say more. "Well, he climbed on her and used her like—like a bull uses a cow."

"What?" I said. "What?"

It was so silly I couldn't believe my ears. And I thought that no one else would believe it either. But then, to my dismay, Mr. Wilson, the farmer from Ambrisbeg, stood up.

"It's true, there was a witches' Sabbath, or some such," he said, scratching unhappily at his stubbly chin. "I heard unearthly music, and when I went to my door, I saw sparks fly up, and it looked as if there was fairy people dancing in the air."

He sat down again, his knees cracking, and nodded twice, as if he knew he had done his painful duty.

"Thank you, Mr. Wilson," Mr. Lamont said gravely. "And did you hear any words spoken? Horse and hattock, or such like?"

"The woman was calling out 'Tinkletum, tankletum,'" Mr. Wilson said. "She sang it loud, over and over. I heard that clear enough."

"I see. Spelling words, I suppose. And did you see the Devil? Did you witness sexual congress between him and this woman?"

"No. I—"

"But I did!" I hadn't noticed Mr. Wilson sharp-nosed, meek little wife, whom Granny had bullied and delighted in mocking year after year. She had sprung to her feet, and I could tell from the shine in her eyes and the quiver in her voice that her years of humiliation had boiled up within her and were spewing out at last in a triumphant blast of revenge.

"The girl's right! The Devil himself was there! I saw the two of them as they left their wicked Sabbath. Elspeth and the Evil One. Conjoined. His eyes red like fire. There was a—a wailing, like the souls of the damned screaming from Hell."

"Who's going to listen to this rubbish?" shot out Granny. "The woman heard the sound of the air coming out of the bagpipes. You all know what a din it makes."

She spoke bravely, but I could see that the Wilsons' evidence had rattled her more than the rest of it.

"And what have you to say, Mistress Wylie, to the charges brought against you?" Mr. Lamont said, giving her a turn to answer at last.

If only Granny had been able to control her anger! If only she had learned to speak calmly and show respect, and tell clearly what was truth and what was lies. But her one refuge was anger, and her only weapon was to create fear. She stood with her feet wide apart, her head thrown back, and ranted and denounced and denied and scoffed, insulting the judges one by one. "I call upon the fires of Hell to fall on all in this room!" she shouted at last. "May the Devil's burning brands scorch your flesh till it falls from your bones, and may you boil in the cauldron of his rage forever and ever!"

She stopped suddenly and her eyes widened. She crossed her arms on her chest and bowed her head. I think she knew that she'd gone too far. She was defeated and had brought her destruction on herself.

Mr. Lamont raised a hand and said into the breathless silence, "Elspeth Wylie, out of your own mouth you have condemned yourself. You are judged to be a witch and to have used malefice against your neighbors. You will be taken to the shore and strangled upon the gallows tomorrow at two o'clock in the afternoon. And your body will be tied to a stake and burned as an example to all those who might be tempted to follow in your path of wickedness."

People can say what they like about my grandmother, but no one could doubt her courage. She did not show by so much as a blink that she was afraid. But I could smell the fear on her. I could sense her inner trembling.

Aloud she said, in a quieter, more natural voice, "I expected no less than this from such a court of hypocrites. I'm no witch, and most of you know it. Fine judges you are. But tomorrow I'll be standing in front of God my maker, the Judge of all the earth. If I lied now, my soul would be damned to Hell. So here's the whole truth. I've spouted off curses at the lot of you. I've used charms and spells like everyone else, and I've made medicines with healing herbs. Half of you have had the benefit. I've been treating your rheumatics and bringing your babies into the world for years. And, yes, I've met my friends out in the night for a bit of music and whiskey and a dance or two, to cheer us all up when the rest of you have cast us out. But as for the Devil, I've never met the man, nor do I want to. Having sex with him? Pure nonsense, and you know it. You're no better than murderers, and your souls will be damned to Hell for it, especially yours, Miss pretty-little-innocent Annie, you wicked liar. When the demons come for you, to take you down to the everlasting fires..."

I looked across at Annie. She was biting her lip so hard her teeth might have gone right through it.

"That will do," Mr. Lamont began to say, but Granny shot out at him, "I haven't finished yet. It's my right to speak. You can't take that from me."

She paused, then put a heavy hand on my shoulder and drew me unwillingly to her side. She'd dropped her harsh tone and now sounded almost pleading.

"Whatever you think of me, you must believe that my granddaughter is innocent of all wrongs. She hasn't cursed anyone or attended any party in the night or done anything against a single person. Leave her alone, for the Lord Jesus Christ's sake."

And my heart lurched as Mr. Lamont said, "Yes, yes, now we come to the case of the girl Maggie Blair. I must ask the court what evidence is brought against her. Mr. Macbean, will you speak?"

The man had been grinning delightedly at the sentence cast on Granny, but he made himself look solemn as he stood up again.

"It's well known that a witch's child is a witch too. This girl looks pure and innocent, but she is infected by her grandmother. When she summoned the whale to die on the shore, she was taken in a trance, and there she communed with the Evil One. There are many witnesses." He looked along the row of our Scalpsie neighbors and marked the nodding heads.

"Please," I said, daring to interrupt. "It wasn't the Devil I saw that day. I thought I saw the Lord Jesus, coming down from Heaven in a cloud of glory to judge the living and the dead. And I was afraid. I fainted."

I knew at once that I'd made a mistake.

"And why would an innocent girl fear the Lord Jesus?" Mr. Lamont said sternly. "Surely your soul should have rejoiced, and you should have cried aloud with joy and run to meet him with praises on your lips? But you were afraid. What other reason could there be, but that you had sold your soul to the Devil and feared the Divine Judgment?"

I didn't know what to say. I stood in silence, twisting my hands together. The Divine Judgment was what I had feared. I had not been sure of my salvation.

"What other accusations are brought against this girl?" the hateful voice of Mr. Lamont went on.

Annie stood up, propelled forward by a sharp dig in the back from Mr. Macbean. Her confidence seemed to have deserted her. She couldn't bring herself to act the sweet innocent now. She looked desperately around at Mr. Macbean, who frowned and shook his head.

"Maggie was at the witches' Sabbath too," she gabbled. "I saw her. She took off all her clothes and danced around a stone."

"Annie, how can you say that?" I called out. "You know it's not true! Why are you doing this?"

She glanced up at me, then away, and in that moment I saw terror and misery in her face, and something almost like regret. But Mr. Lamont was speaking.

"Maggie Blair, you are condemned as a witch, along with your grandmother. You will be taken with her to the shore and strangled from the gallows, and your body will be tied to a stake and burned so that..."

But I didn't hear the rest. I had fainted dead away.