“You will be subject to the Trial by Depths,” intoned the first man, in the kind of voice that suggested he had made this dark little speech before. “Your hands will be bound and your body cast into the waters. A witch floats, due to the dark forces within her. If you are seen to float, then the sentence is death. Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live. So it is written, so will it be done.”
“Great,” Cora muttered under her breath once the men were out of earshot.
Though she couldn’t be sure, she thought she saw the guard’s lips twitch in something like a smile before his usual mask of disinterest was restored.
It was the guard who led her out of her cell and up the stairs, eventually. He was gentle with her — held her by the arm and didn’t feel the need to yank her around. She wished that she knew his name. Any small shred of kindness was magnified by how hideously she was being treated. It hadn’t quite sunk in yet that she was going to die, Cora suspected — she was walking through the world numb, still in denial, still not quite grasping what was about to happen to her.
I guess you have a choice, Cora, came the nasty little voice in the back of her head. Either drown or burn. What’s it going to be?
Well, it was a freezing cold morning and no mistake. The sky was grey and overcast, even though the placement of the blurred disc of the sun in the sky indicated that it was mid-morning. A light drizzle of rain began to fall almost on cue, wetting her hair and making her shiver. Well, wonderful. The last day she was going to be alive, most likely, and the weather was awful. Would it be worse to die on a beautiful day? At least this was something she wouldn’t miss.
It was seeing Audrina that really brought home what was happening. Her friend was standing by the lake, hair pulled back in a fierce bun, her eyes full of tears. When Cora appeared, Audrina ran forward to embrace her, uttering a loud and entirely uncharacteristic sob that made the Inquisitors standing with her turn away in disgust. Cora returned the hug, and positioned her ear so that Audrina could whisper into it — why else would she have made such a ridiculous sound?
“Remember meditation class,” she breathed. “Stay calm, stay centered, stay under.”
Cora pulled back, screwing her face up as though weeping too, and nodded tearfully, as though responding to a whispered plea to be brave and face her trial. But what Audrina had said made her feel silly. Of course she didn’t have to choose between drowning and burning — she could pass the Trial of the Depths, and not drown. Why, she’d played the flute for a good decade of her youth — she had lung capacity like nobody’s business. Surely she could manage thirty seconds or a minute underwater. All she had to do was get down there, and stay there.
And what Audrina had said helped a lot too. They’d taken a class together on a whim — something about mindfulness that the hospital was offering as a way of dealing with stress. The class had been nothing remarkable, but the mindful breathing section had actually given both of them a useful insight into controlling breath in response to panic and high pressure environments. The truth was, more of the body could be brought under conscious control than most people thought — and that included breathing and heartbeat. If Cora could keep her wits about her and focus, she could slow her heartbeat and reduce her need for air.
Easier said than done, she thought, giving the surface of the lake a wary look. But at least it was a plan — a lot more than she’d had half an hour ago. Trust Audrina to always have her back, even when she was about to be put to death for witchcraft in medieval Scotland. What were friends for, after all?
Ian and Colin were there too, standing side by side at the edge of a short fishing pier that the locals used to fish in the warmer months. They were both in their MacClaran kilts, and Cora noticed with some amusement that Ian had taken the opportunity to fix his hair up. She had put it into quite a state the night before. Thank God they’d had one last night together — even if she was to drown, at least she’d had a great last night. Don’t think like that, Cora, she scolded herself. No sense in being defeatist.
To her displeasure, Lord Cotswold was there, too. For once, he didn’t seem drunk — if he’d had a drink yet that morning, at least it wasn’t making him sway. He gave her a smug little bow as she approached the pier, and she fought the urge to lunge away from her captor and spit in his beady little eyes. She wished it was him going in the water.
“Disrobe,” the Inquisitor ordered, and Cotswold leered at her.
Was he getting off on this? Disgusting. Cautiously, she removed the blouse she was wearing, and her skirt — small blessings, the man didn’t insist she remove her underclothes as well. Still, she began to shiver in the cold, autumn breeze. The water was going to be a lot worse, though, so she resolved to enjoy the relative warmth while she could.
The guard was tying her hands in front of her — working methodically, he was gentle with her wrists as he looped a length of canvas rope around and through them. Then, he tied a much longer piece through the knot, tethering the other end of that piece to a tree on the shore. The Inquisitor explained that this rope was intended to save her life — if she passed the test by sinking and was shown to be an innocent woman and not a witch, they would quickly haul her back in by the rope attached to her wrists. Yeah, if I don’t have two lungs full of lake water by then, she thought dourly, but she made an effort to smile and nod as though in full support of the test.
The Inquisitor — was it the first or the second? — escorted her down the pier. She didn’t look over her shoulder at her friends — either she’d see them again once this whole trial was over with, or she’d drown. Either way, they knew she loved them. Cora took a deep breath as she looked down at the surface of the black water. Idly, she tested the ropes fixed around her wrist — yep, the guard had definitely tied them tight. She supposed that was good — if she was still alive when they decided to pull her in, she wouldn’t want the ropes to slip from her hands.
The Inquisitor lifted his hands to push her into the water. Cora had never liked being pushed. Taking a deep breath, she bent her knees and sprang into the water, the long length of rope trailing behind her as she crashed through the lake’s surface and into the inky darkness beyond.
Chapter 32
The first thing that occurred to her was that she should have checked with someone exactly how long she had to sink for her to be declared Not A Witch.
The second thing that occurred to her was nothing at all, because the overwhelming shock of the ice water knocked all the sense out of her skull. If she hadn’t already taken a huge gasp of air she’d have inhaled the lake water through sheer shock, that was how brutal the cold was. It pierced every inch of her body at once like a thousand knives — her hands and feet immediately went numb, and her body stopped shivering as it went into emergency energy preservation mode. She was actually going to die of the cold before she drowned, Cora thought.
But she had a job to do while she was down here. It was difficult to maneuver with her hands bound, but Cora had done the right thing by jumping in the water herself instead of letting the man push her — it meant her head was angled toward the bottom of the lake, and all she had to do was swim ‘forwards’ to keep getting deeper. Cora wasn’t overweight, but she certainly wasn’t a thin woman, and the way her body composition functioned, she knew that she would naturally float. So she kicked her legs, gently so that she wouldn’t cause too much disruption on the surface and give herself away, and swam down, down into the darkness of the water. It wasn’t long before her outstretched hands brushed the mud at the bottom of the lake. Wrinkling her nose in disgust at the sludge and various unidentifiable threads of plant life and general assorted matter, she took a great handful of plant life to anchor herself and tried to calm herself.
The shock of the cold had worn off — she was well aware that hypothermia was still a risk, but for now her body was doing a decent job at conserving her remaining body heat. She had a big lungful of air to sustain her, and she knew scientifically that it would b
e a few minutes before she experienced actual damage as a result of oxygen deprivation. That didn’t mean she didn’t already want very badly to swim to the surface and take a huge breath of fresh air. Panic began to war with her determination to stay at the bottom of the lake for as long as possible, and she fought it down, closing her eyes against the oppressive darkness of the lake floor and trying to think of positive things. Kittens. Flowers. Ian’s face… their last night together….
There was an odd tug on the rope. She waited, hopeful that it was them yanking her back up to the surface, satisfied already that she wasn’t a witch — but no. They must have just been moving it. Or maybe Ian was fighting the Inquisitors…she wouldn’t put it past him. Worry gnawed at her stomach. She hoped he wouldn’t do anything rash…it would be a shame for her to die and for a whole host of trouble to come to the MacClaran clan regardless.
How long had she been down here? The panic was rising — a hot pain had started in her chest, and she could feel the muscles flexing and straining against the effort she was making to keep herself under and her breath held. She let out a little of the breath she was holding in the hopes that relieving the pressure would ease the discomfort, but that only made the desperate need to inhale worse. She squeezed her eyes shut, focused on her heartbeat, felt herself getting dizzy. Mind over matter. Pure willpower. She’d rather drown at the bottom of the lake than go back up there and be burned…
How fascinating. A whole host of tiny lights were beginning to swarm and dance around her vision. How magical. Perhaps they were some Scottish wildlife she hadn’t learned about yet. Cora’s grip began to loosen on the plants, her consciousness revolving away into the darkness…why was she holding her breath, again? She should just take a nice, deep breath…that would be nice, wouldn’t it…a nice, relaxing breath of air…
Later, Ian would tell her what had been happening on the surface. Later, he would tell her that the jerk on the rope she had felt was the guard readying himself to haul her in, knowing that she had almost passed the required time at the bottom of the lake. The Inquisitors were nodding to each other, clearly satisfied that Cora had sunk — the second one had looked a little disappointed, but he gave the signal to the guard to haul her in.
That was when Cotswold had lunged forward, a knife in his hand, and held it to the guard’s throat, screaming that she was a cunning witch who’d found a way to beat their test.
“She escaped the burning, didn’t she? Of course she’ll con her way out of the water test too — they have mastery over all the elements! Leave her down there! The only way to abolish her evil from the world is to let her drown!”
There they all stood — frozen in a standoff as time slowly ticked away…
Chapter 33
The Inquisitors were alarmed, but didn’t want to risk the life of their guard, or to antagonize the dangerously unhinged man with a knife at his throat. They tried to talk Cotswold down, hands held in the air. Colin was shouting, and so was Audrina — but it was Ian, he claimed, who shoved Cotswold into the lake and dove in to retrieve Cora from the depths.
(Colin, later, clarified that shoving Cotswold had been an accident — that Ian had been so hell-bent on getting her out of the water he doubted the tanist had even noticed what was going on with the Lord and the guard.)
Either way, she came back to consciousness, dripping wet and freezing, spluttering and coughing up a storm. She was covered in mud, gasping on her hands and knees on the damp, muddy bank of the lake. The guard was rubbing his throat — Cotswold had nicked him with the knife — but was otherwise unharmed. The Inquisitors were both standing on the pier, staring down into the water with some interest at where Cotswold was splashing and struggling. Cora, still hacking and gasping, knowing she would probably never get the taste of lake water out of her mouth, staggered to her feet and stumbled onto the pier toward the Inquisitors, her voice hardly audible over the chattering of her teeth.
“D-d-did I p-pass the t-t-t-t-test?” she demanded, face screwed up against the biting wind.
“Yes,” said the first Inquisitor, and inclined his head solemnly to her. “You are free to go. May you be held in the palm of God’s hands, now and always.”
Something inside her chest felt like it unlocked, at that point. A huge wave of relief washed over her — not just her own personal relief to be free, but something that had been bound up so tightly that she hadn’t even known it was there. A dark ball of energy, of pain, of loss and sadness at the heart of her…with that declaration of innocence, it all let go with a kind of sigh that she felt, rather than heard. Something told her that Bellina, dead though she may be, had heard that Inquisitor’s declaration.
“He’s floating,” said the other Inquisitor in an undertone to the first one, nodding down at Cotswold. The man was shrieking blue murder — soaked through to the skin in all his regalia, clearly weighed down by the various ornamental weapons and pieces of armor he had worn for his own vanity, he was nevertheless floating quite easily on the surface of the water. Cora took a moment to stare down at him without pity — he stared back up at her, eyes wild, almost frothing at the mouth with the strength of his impotent rage and fury. Audrina joined her on the pier — she draped the coat she’d been wearing around Cora’s shoulders and wrapped it tightly around her to protect her freezing body from the elements. Grateful for the coat, the hug and the presence of her friend in her life in general, Cora flung her arms around her and planted a huge kiss on her cheek.
Cotswold howled in abject rage.
“Enjoy your swim, Lord Cotswold,” Audrina called to him, grinning widely. “Come on, Cora. Let’s get you back to the castle and into a hot bath.”
Cora groaned. “That dip in the lake was the first bath I’ve had in days. A proper one sounds absolutely heavenly.”
As they left the pier (and the Inquisitors, who were still gazing thoughtfully down at Cotswold as he struggled unsuccessfully in the water) they came upon Ian, who was still dripping wet. He was grinning like a madman as his cousin tried unsuccessfully to get him to remove some of his sodden clothes.
“Gimme your shirt before ye freeze to death, you madman,” Colin was growling, yanking at the sodden shirt on his back. Ian was capering wildly around in open defiance of his Laird’s orders, yelling and whooping in a way that reminded Cora strongly of Donal.
“Right in he went! Whoosh! We did it, Cora! You’re safe! You’re cleared of all charges, and safe!” He hurled himself at her and swept her bodily off the ground, and claimed her lips in a kiss that made even Audrina blush and turn away, laughing a little.
Colin put his arm around her shoulder and kissed her cheek fondly.
“Now we can get married,” Ian was saying, shaking both of her hands in his like an excited child. “You can go to the village whenever you want with no fear! You can set up your midwifery practice and have patients come from far and wide — or you can travel to them!” But most of what he was saying was eclipsed by a high-pitched scream — from Audrina, who had almost tackled Cora back into the freezing lake.
“You daft cow, you didn’t tell me you were engaged!”
“We weren’t! We said — maybe, if I didn’t drown!”
“And you didn’t! Thanks to me!” Ian bellowed, almost falling over as he danced a ludicrous jig on the lake shore.
Laird Colin chuckled, clapping his cousin on the shoulder and turning his warm smile to Cora.
“Congratulations, lassie. On everything.”
“I knew you could do it, Cora,” Audrina whispered, hugging her close.
But suddenly, a hush fell over the little gathering by the lake. Ian fell silent and straightened. Cora and Audrina turned, frowning — to see Lord Weatherby approaching the lake at a brisk walk. His expression was thunderous.
Chapter 34
Cora’s heart was pounding. Had she failed the test somehow? Was Weatherby going to declare it invalid? Why hadn’t he been there to witness it in the first place? After everything she’d
been through to try to spare the MacClarans any more suffering and pain, was it all for naught — were their relations with the English about to deteriorate even more?
“I’ve never seen him look so angry,” Audrina murmured to Cora, looking uneasy. He marched right up to them, almost shaking with rage — and then offered them a courteous bow, and stepped around them to where Cotswold had just dragged himself out of the water and up onto the pier (entirely unassisted by the Inquisitors, who were still studying him as though he were a particularly interesting new species of water beetle.)
“James Cotswold,” Weatherby boomed in a voice Cora had never heard the mild-mannered lord use. “This is the end. For years I have tolerated your flights of fancy — your madness — your derangement. Always over women, always founded on nothing. The things I have allowed — the horrible sins I have enabled — I have much atoning to do. I hold myself partially responsible for the terrible suffering you have wrought. I did it for your family — for a debt I felt I owed your parents, a favor done for me years ago in war. Your brother saved my life, Cotswold, and for that debt I’ve tolerated so much. Too much. I’ll be asking forgiveness for what I’ve allowed you to do for the rest of my life. But no longer, do you hear me? Henceforth, you and I shall never meet. You will have no more than two weeks to remove your belongings from my lands. Where you go, and what you do, I have no interest. I wash my hands of you.”
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