The Betrayal of Maggie Blair (9 page)

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.

Once I had come to myself again and we were back in our cold, cheerless cell, I was attacked with such a fit of trembling that I could hardly stand upright. It was then I understood properly that I was going to die.

Pictures kept rising in my mind of all the things that I would never see and feel again. They were small, silly things that I didn't know I'd loved: the yellow irises flowering in the bogs by Loch Quien; Sheba twisting around to lick her back; the geese coming back in the springtime to nest in Scalpsie Bay; the warmth of the summer sun on my face, and then the winter again, with the door closed against the cold night and Tam telling stories by the fire.

How can it all go on without me being there?
I thought.
How will Blackie and the cottage and the sea exist if I'm not there?

Worst of all, I thought of the man I'd always secretly dreamed of, who I would now never meet, and the baby I would never carry about in my arms.

The sweetness of living pierced me, and a deep, choking sob came up from the depths of my lungs. It was as if I'd been punched in the stomach. I had to gasp for air.

A stinging slap from Granny shocked me into silence.

"Stop sniveling. What good does it do? You're not dead yet. It's not over till it's over."

"It'll be over tomorrow! We'll be dead tomorrow!"

I wanted to slap her back, to claw and bite her, to tell her that this was all her fault with her endless quarreling, but my old fear of her held me back, even then.

"We'll be dead, eh? That's what
they
say."

Her eyes were darting about the cell as if there was a door she might yet notice that would lead us out to freedom. "That court was a sham. There was no person of authority to condemn us. And all the evidence was malicious lies, as half of them knew."

My heart pounded in a sudden wild flight of hope.

"What do you mean, Granny? They might still put a stop to it?"

"It's possible." She began to march about, her heavy bare feet slapping down on the stone floor. "The sheriff, he won't like things being done behind his back. And that minister man, when he hears about this, he'll be for saving you, anyway. To condemn a girl like that! For nothing! On the say-so of that wicked little thief!"

"Mr. Robertson!" I cried, clutching at the thought. "Yes! He'll find a way. He tried to help us before!"

Shouts came from outside. I could hear the clop of horses' hooves and laughter. I picked up my stool and set it below the window.

"Leave it, Maggie. Don't show your face, for God's sake," Granny said, and I think she was sorry that she'd hit me, because she spoke quite gently.

But I had to see what was happening. I climbed onto the stool and peered out.

"There's four—no, five—pack horses with loads of wood," I told Granny.

"For the burning," she muttered.

I don't think she meant me to hear, but I had.

"For burning us?"

The thought was so terrible that I had to hold the bars with both hands to stop myself from falling off the stool. My eyes were fixed on the bundles of wood. I could imagine them flaring up into flames, hear the crackling, smell the smoke.

"Will it hurt?"

"What?"

"The burning."

"Are you out of your wits? We'll—I'll—be dead by then. They'll have made sure of that on the gallows."

"The hanging, then. Will that hurt?"

"How should I know?" Oddly, I found her exasperation almost comforting. It was familiar, anyway. "I've never been hanged before, so I've no way of telling. If I had, I'd tell you all about it."

She was smiling grimly.

A voice came, louder and clearer than the rest. A man dressed in black with the white collar bands of a minister had stepped up onto the bottom of the market cross and was holding up his hands for silence. I peered at him, but I was sure I had never seen him before.

"Good people of Rothesay!" he began. "We are called here today, in the sight of God, to prepare ourselves with prayer and fasting to cleanse our community of the evil of witchcraft, which has so grievously flourished in our midst."

The other voices had fallen silent. The children were hushed, and people put out their folding stools, settling themselves to listen to the preacher. I didn't dare stay at the window any longer. I was afraid he might point, and they would all turn and stare at me.