The Secret Clan: The Complete Series

by Amanda Scott

  Again, Fin looked pointedly at James, and Patrick realized that his friend did indeed understand at least part of what he was feeling.

  James said, “You speak of Davy Beaton, do you not?”

  “Aye,” Fin said, holding the royal gaze. “I believe you are aware that Sir Patrick spent the past eight months in England at considerable risk to himself.”

  “I know that,” James turned to Patrick. “But how does it concern Kintail?”

  “I became a spy only because Beaton promised Kintail’s release in return,” Patrick said. “Since my return he has continually sworn that he was doing all he could to persuade you but that others impeded his progress.”

  “I see.” James shot Kintail a shrewd look, adding, “I warrant you were not speaking only of Beaton, though, were you, sir?”

  Fin returned the look steadily. “No, your grace.”

  “The people of Kintail have ever remained loyal to the Crown.”

  “We have.”

  “And you believe the Crown owes you something in return for that fealty.”

  “The Crown does as it sees fit,” Fin said.

  James looked at Patrick. “Do you believe that, sir?”

  “What I believe is of no consequence,” Patrick said bitterly. “My dispute is with Beaton, and clearly he does not count the cost of betraying loyalty. Nor does he care that he has condemned an innocent lass to death so he can make a grand pretense of cleansing the Scottish Kirk of evil and corruption.”

  “Do you not believe he means to reform the Kirk?”

  “I believe that Davy Beaton cares only for the fortunes of Davy Beaton,” Patrick said savagely. “His so-called reforms are laughable—or would be if they did not serve disaster to so many. He claims to fight witchcraft yet holds his trials in secret so that none may hear how weak the evidence is. He discards loyalty as if it were dust, and despite learning that Beth is neither a true maidservant nor Angus’s baseborn daughter, he is bent on burning her as part of his grand conflagration.”

  Nell’s gasp diverted him, and he said grimly, “Forgive me, madam. To say that without thought for your presence was needlessly cruel.”

  She shook her head but turned to James, her expression sadly eloquent.

  James grimaced. “I would like to help,” he said, “but like it or not, Beaton stands as the Pope in Scotland. His word in matters of faith is the word of the Holy Father, and I cannot countermand it without jeopardizing the entire Scottish Kirk.”

  “Surely, you can do something, sire,” Nell said. “You are King.”

  “Aye,” he said, looking ruefully at Kintail and Patrick. “I am King, and yet I command no army without the consent of my nobles. In truth, though, I have not treated those most loyal to me well. All you said of Beaton, Kintail, holds true for me, and clearly do I see that now. I ask you to forgive me if you can, sir.”

  “Always, your grace,” Kintail said instantly.

  “And you, Sir Patrick, will you likewise forgive?”

  Patrick hesitated, automatically glancing at Kintail, but that gentleman returned his look without comment, his expression wooden but readable to one who knew him well. The decision was Patrick’s.

  He said, “I can forgive a man who admits his mistake, sire, but as to offering him my full faith and trust after he has demolished them… that is not so easy.”

  “You are honest, sir, and I take your meaning well,” James said. “Trust, once broken, must be rebuilt, and that takes time and effort. I do ask for forgiveness, but I will strive to make amends.”

  “How, sire?” Nell asked.

  “As of this moment, I declare the Laird of Kintail a free man with all his rights of position and title restored. Moreover, despite Beaton, I still have great influence in many quarters. Have you perchance broached this matter with Huntly?”

  “No,” Patrick said, glancing at Kintail. “He supports Beaton, does he not?”

  “Few amongst the nobles now in Stirling would act against me even if they do tend to support Davy Beaton,” James said. “I believe that if I speak personally to Huntly and others who came here with large escorts, I can at least persuade them not to interfere if you attempt to rescue the lass on Saturday.”

  Nell said unhappily, “Not until Saturday?”

  “Aye, madam,” Patrick said. “It would take an army to rescue her from the Tolbooth, and we do not have an army. If we have a chance, it will be when we have a great crowd and much confusion.”

  “In the meantime,” James said, “you and Kintail should enlist the aid of any friends you have here who have not already departed, and we must not meet again over this. Beaton has spies everywhere, as you know.”

  “I can carry messages, if necessary,” Nell said.

  The King smiled. “No, madam, you cannot. With her grace here, I’d be in greater danger if you did than if Beaton should learn that I support this endeavor.”

  “True enough, sire,” Patrick said, “but we must have some way to know if you succeed in persuading Huntly and the others to stay out of it.”

  The King grinned wryly. “Beaton has demanded my presence there despite my disapproval, and I’d already decided to dampen the effect by organizing a hunt to take place afterward. You,” he added to Nell, “are welcome to join us then, because other ladies of the court will do so. If I am successful, Sir Patrick, I will take Zeus with me. You will recognize him even at a distance, will you not?”

  “Easily, sire,” Patrick said. “He will serve as an excellent signal.”

  The interview was over, and the three hurried back to tell Molly.

  The next two days were busy, and since they had decided it would better serve their plan if Kintail continued to act as a hostage, lest Beaton realize the King had intervened, they arranged for some friends to meet with him at the castle, and Patrick visited others himself. He spoke to Sir Alex Chisholm first.

  “I’ll stay, of course, with as many men as I can spare from my parents’ entourage,” Sir Alex said, “but I want my family out of harm’s way.”

  “I understand,” Patrick said. “Indeed, I’d still like Bab to go with them. It is one thing for Lady Kintail to stay with her husband, quite another for Bab to stay.”

  With a droll look, Alex said, “You’d need to hire a keeper.”

  “She needs a husband,” Patrick said suggestively.

  With a lazy smile and twinkling eyes, his friend shook his head, and Patrick bade him adieu, setting off for St. Mary’s Wynd. He had put off calling on Sir Hector, because he feared he would lose his temper, but it had occurred to him that Sir Hector might not know of Beth’s fate, and might even know a way to help her.

  “Inform Sir Hector that Sir Patrick MacRae desires to have speech with him,” he told the maidservant who answered the door at Farnsworth House.

  Having no idea what Lady Farnsworth or her daughters might have said, Patrick did not know what sort of reception to expect, but it was all he could do to wait patiently until the maid returned.

  “This way, sir,” she said, leading him to the chamber where he had first spoken with Oscar Farnsworth.

  When Patrick entered, Sir Hector was alone. He stood, saying, “You are a man of many surprises, sir.”

  “I suppose I am,” Patrick said. “May I ask, sir, if you are aware of the events that took place late Monday night, and their consequences?”

  “I know only that you claimed to have married Elspeth, sir, and that your behavior put my wife into a frenzy. She insisted it could not be true, and I do not know if you meant to make such a declaration, but when she assured me Elspeth had not countered it, I was forced to explain what you must have just discovered. Marriage by declaration is legal, I’m afraid. You would do better to apply to your cardinal for an annulment.”

  “He is not my cardinal,” Patrick said grimly. “Nor is my lady wife baseborn. I collect that Lady Farnsworth did not say anything else about Monday night.”

  “Why no, and how can Elspeth not be baseb
orn? Angus himself admitted that she is his daughter by a common maidservant.”

  “Have you always found the Earl of Angus trustworthy, sir?”

  “No, I have not,” Sir Hector said with a sigh. “Sit down, Sir Patrick, and tell me what you know that I do not.”

  Patrick did so, adding that Lady Farnsworth and Drusilla had accused Beth of witchcraft. That the news came as a terrible shock to Sir Hector was clear.

  “May God have mercy on them for such wickedness, for I shall not,” he exclaimed. “They know that she is no witch. If there were ever a child with less inclination toward the dark arts, I don’t know her.”

  “I do not know if you can help her, but if you can…”

  Sir Hector shook his head. “If she is in Beaton’s hands, I can do nothing. I would like to call my wife and daughters, however, to confront them in your presence with what they have done.” He did so at once, and Lady Farnsworth entered a few minutes later, with Drusilla.

  “What’s he doing here?” Lady Farnsworth demanded.

  “Where is Jelyan?”

  “She went to the shops with our aunt,” Drusilla said. “Why is Patrick here?”

  “He is Sir Patrick to you, my girl, and he has told me a shocking tale of wickedness perpetrated upon an innocent lass who never did us any harm.”

  Indignantly, Lady Farnsworth said, “If you mean Elspeth—”

  “Be silent,” Sir Hector said sharply. “I collect, however, that you did make an accusation of witchcraft against the poor girl.”

  “Poor girl, indeed!”

  “Aye, Father, you did not see her, but—”

  “Not another word, Drusilla! That my own wife and daughters could do such a dreadful thing appalls me. You will return to Farnsworth Tower at once, all of you, to contemplate the evil you have done.”

  Lady Farnsworth snapped, “Ridiculous!”

  “We only just arrived!” Drusilla protested.

  “Does either of you realize that if Elspeth dies, you will have murdered her?”

  Both women were silent, but Patrick doubted that either understood the gravity of her offense.

  Sir Hector said sternly, “It is small punishment for what you have done, but you will leave this afternoon. I’ll provide an escort, but I cannot accompany you as I still have business here. You will keep to your chambers until you depart. I do not want to see you before then. Order Jelyan’s things packed, too, of course.”

  “Jelyan had naught to do with it,” Drusilla said, nearly weeping.

  “Nevertheless, she will go, too. You can explain to her why she goes.”

  Patrick took his leave, feeling that Lady Farnsworth and Drusilla had gotten off much too easily.

  “Bethie, this way.”

  She could hear the whisper, although it was little more than movement of air in the long, dark corridor. The path she followed glowed dimly, so she could see the way ahead, but she did not know where she was going, and she was bone weary. The way lightened a bit more. She could see a golden glow ahead, perhaps firelight, perhaps something else, and she hurried toward it.

  She was alone, although she had a sense of someone hovering nearby, watching and waiting—whether friend or enemy she did not know. The glow was nearer, and she saw something dark in the center, a chest. As she drew nearer and reached for the key, the sense of watchers nearby turned ominous.

  “Wake up, lass.”

  Despite the danger, she needed to see what was in the chest, but the voice—a different one now and familiar—pulled her away.

  Blinking, Beth opened her eyes and looked around the bleak cell. She did not recall ever having slept during the day except when she was ill, but she had not been sleeping well at night.

  “I am here,” the voice said quietly.

  “Maggie!”

  “Aye, ’tis me,” the little woman said. She stood on the floor near the window wall, looking smaller than usual, and tired.

  “I’d nearly lost hope that you would come,” Beth exclaimed. Guiltily, and in a lower tone, she added, “I know we should not let the others hear us talk—”

  “Pish tush, lass, ye needna fret about them,” Maggie said with a dismissive gesture. “They canna hear us.”

  “Then why did you not come sooner? It was the clothes and the jewelry, you know, that made them think me guilty, but I could hardly tell them the wee folk had provided them. What are we going to do?”

  “I dinna ken, lass, I wish I did.”

  “But surely you can winkle me out of this! I am not a witch!”

  “I canna do it, lass, for ’tis the Kirk, and I canna work me spells against it or against men o’ the Kirk. We o’ the Secret Clan ha’ nae place in such doings.”

  Horrified, Beth said, “Are you aligned with the powers of darkness, then?”

  “Nay, nay, we fit betwixt good and evil, just as the mortal world does, only separate from it. Our world were created when the heavens opened to cast out the Evil One. A few others fell out through the opening, sithee, and they were the beginning o’ our clan. We ha’ nae power against the Evil One or against the Kirk. Each time ye call on Him wha’ the Kirk espouses, ye’ll note that if I be wi’ ye, I disappear. The same would happen were ye the sort tae call on the Evil One, too.”

  “But did you not know this could happen if you dressed me in such splendor for the King’s ball?”

  “Nay, I—” Maggie paused, frowning. She shook herself a little, then harder, shutting her eyes tight and shaking her head until her hair stood on end.

  Beth opened her mouth to ask what she was doing, but Maggie shook her head harder, as if she sensed that Beth would speak and wanted her to keep silent. Then she drew a breath so deep that it puffed her up, making her rounder and rounder until Beth feared she would pop.

  At last, with a great whooshing sound, Maggie exhaled until her face turned white as snow and she shriveled up like a prune.

  Beth watched, fascinated.

  A moment later, Maggie looked normal again, and angry.

  “What is it?” Beth asked. “What’s amiss?”

  “Plenty,” Maggie said angrily. “Here I were thinking it were Jonah Bonewits, but there be another wi’ a more mischievous nature who bewitched me once afore, and I should ha’ felt his touch. Claud even said his name but I didna suspect his mischief in this. He’ll pay now, though, blast his whirling eyes!”

  Maggie vanished, and Beth stared at the empty space in shock. She had no idea where Patrick was, and her only hope had just disappeared, leaving only a puff of white smoke behind.

  She heard a rattle of keys. The guards had come to fetch her.

  “Claud, where are ye?”

  “Here, Mam,” he said, hurrying to meet her in the parlor. “What’s amiss?”

  “Why were ye asking about Tom Tit Tot?”

  Claud hesitated, but when she glared, he said, “He set me a puzzle, Mam. I’m tae tell him his true name, or…”

  “Or, what?”

  “Or I canna marry Lucy, but I dinna want tae marry her, only he says I must, ’cause I bedded her, but—”

  “What is Lucy Fittletrot to Tom?”

  “Why, dinna ye ken? She’s his daughter.”

  To his dismay, Maggie’s bosom swelled in fury. In a deadly calm voice, she said, “D’ye recall I said that Tom Tit Tot be a mischief maker?”

  “Aye,” Claud said warily.

  “Well, ye canna marry his Lucy.”

  “But he said—”

  “Dinna heed anything he says! Tom Tit Tot’s your father, Claud.”

  He gaped at her, thundershuck. “Then Lucy—”

  “Ye ha’ the same father, so ye canna marry wi’ her. He ha’ been making a game o’ ye, just as he did wi’ me afore ye were born.”

  Chapter 24

  The woodpile in the center of the great square between the Tolbooth and the Marykirk stood ten feet high. Around it, at intervals, seven stout stakes were stuck in the ground, and nearby stood loads of coal, a barrel of tar
, and kindling. Men stood guard over these items, lest someone should try to interfere with God’s plan to burn the witches, but the general atmosphere was much like a holiday fair.

  The crowd was enormous, growing larger and noisier by the minute.

  The sight of the great pyre made Patrick feel sick, and he knew his companions felt the same, as by sheer force of size and determination, he and Fin made a path to the front for themselves and Molly. Molly’s face was as white as a sheet, and her lips pressed tightly together. Under her cloak, he knew she carried her bow and a quiver of arrows, but what good they would do, he did not know. There were too many people, too many guards wearing the cardinal’s scarlet livery, and although he and Fin had exercised their persuasive powers over the past days, he had little faith that the few who had promised them aid would be any help.

  Molly walked between them, and Fin kept an arm around her, his sharp gaze scanning the increasingly boisterous crowd. “The King and his party are yonder,” he said, jerking a nod.

  Patrick saw Jamie on a fine bay gelding, accompanied by his banner carrier on a dappled gray beside him. The other men and women with him were mounted and dressed for hunting, their birds gaily hooded and jessed.

  Most carried their birds on gloved fists, but the King’s hawk perched calmly on his shoulder, the red plume on its black hood standing out clearly. At any other time, Patrick would have felt proud to recognize Zeus and to see the young hawk so calm amidst such furor. Now he felt only added tension, but at least some of the King’s powerful nobles had agreed to keep out of any action that erupted.

  “Perhaps we should be mounted, too,” Molly said, her voice barely loud enough for her two companions to hear.

  Patrick muttered, “We don’t want to draw unnecessary attention, but we’ll need to be nearer the horses when they bring out the women. Even then, I’m wondering if we can get to her through this mob. I just can’t seem to think.”

  Fear had never before interfered with his ability to do battle, but never had the stakes been so high. The thought of stakes turned his gaze back to the pyre. Seven women were about to lose their lives in a terrible way, and at least one of them had been falsely accused and convicted. What of the others? He knew nothing about them, but since Beth was innocent, he doubted their guilt, too. The God he believed in, the one that had created Beth and his magnificent Highlands, would never demand such a terrible price from an innocent person.