It brought about a deep sense of bitterness in Lennox, a sense of injustice and anger that was rooted deeply in his character. Despite his will to be accepted and be allowed to uphold their beliefs, his thoughts did sometimes turn dark. If their persecutors were not careful, those who practiced the old craft would rise up as one and wreak havoc. He had the capability to become what they said he was, and sometimes it was so close to the surface that he knew it was a necessity to gather his brethren and head to the Highlands before he became everything they feared. Most of all it was the fact he had found Chloris—whom he loved—that now gave him the strength to endure and move on.
The boat thudded heavily against the narrow wooden jetty. The ferryman reached out for a sodden rope that was piled on the end of the landing point and used it to haul his vessel in alongside the jetty.
“Thank you for safe passage, good man.” Lennox rose to his feet, fished the requisite fee out of his pocket and handed the coins over. “I will be availing myself of your services to return to Fife on the morrow.”
Nodding his head, he climbed onto the jetty and set off at a pace.
* * *
“Aye, I was here when they brought her in.” The jailer was a large, unkempt man who regarded Lennox with a wary stare. “The witch whore they called her. The Harlot of Dundee, one and the same.”
Lennox lifted a brow. Jessie had garnered herself quite a reputation. Before he’d even reached the tolbooth he’d heard about the lusty young witch who had escaped her jailer. They talked of it readily in the inns around the harbor.
The jailer frowned. “What of it?”
The man had obviously been admonished by the bailiff of the burgh. Together they were responsible for keeping the prisoners here until they could be tried, and this man had failed. Lennox fished for coins from the pocket of his greatcoat and offered them to the man. “Tell me all you can.”
“Why are you so interested? What concern is it of yours?” The man was wary, despite the fact he stared at the coins Lennox held out with hungry eyes.
Lennox had prepared his excuse. “I have my suspicions that the woman who was brought here is someone who did me an injustice in the past.” The lie passed his lips readily enough, for it was one he had used before when trying to discover the whereabouts of his sisters. He glanced down at the coins lest the truth be seen in his eyes.
The jailer nodded and took the coins.
“Her and her sister,” Lennox added. He knew that only one had been brought here under a charge of witchcraft, but this man might know something of Maisie, as well.
“Sisters?” The man grumbled beneath his breath. “It does not surprise me that there is more than one of them, for I heard they gather together in a flock like animals.” He frowned heavily. “I would not like to meet two of them. One was enough of a handful, a wild one she was.”
Lennox wondered if the man was exaggerating in order to cover up his failure to keep Jessie under lock and key. However, he also had to face the fact that he had no idea how his sisters had fared. Jessie had been the most fae of them, and when they were children they often had to search in the woodlands for her when she wandered off. It was hard for him to picture his sisters, who would be well over eighteen by now. The last time he’d seen them they were children. The two girls had been forced by the villagers to stand on the pillars by the gate to the Kirk and watch while their mother was stoned to death. This cruel act was done in order to teach them the error of their mother’s ways, to redeem them. The church gate was open to them—they could make the choice to turn away from what was called evil and wrong.
Even remembering it made the old familiar pain gnaw at his guts. He’d tried to stop it, let loose chaos through his magic, cursing them. But there were too many of them and they made the strongest man take Lennox before he could do any more damage.
“She wasn’t here long,” the jailer said, drawing Lennox back to the moment, “but I will tell you what I remember.” He pointed at the bruise on his forehead, indicating that he’d had a knock to the head.
Lennox nodded, encouraging him.
“She swore she’d done no magic, she did.”
The thought of her fear, enough to bring about the denial of her magic, made Lennox sick. It was little wonder, though, after all she had witnessed, their own mother being put to death. While there was comfort in the fact that she had escaped, he regretted that he had not got here earlier. What he wanted most of all was to have been the one to liberate her. He wanted to take her home to his people. When he’d quizzed the innkeeper that morning, he was told that she was known in Dundee and had lived there for a year or more. It was little wonder that he felt at least one of his sisters was still in the Lowlands. One of the final things their mother had said to them, when she knew of her own impending witch trial, was that they never should have left the Highlands. There, they were safe.
“Will you show me where she was kept?”
The jailer looked at him oddly but lumbered along the corridor.
Lennox was closer than he had ever been, since they were torn apart as children, and yet he hoped that she had gone far away. North, to the Highlands. Torn between the fear for her safety and grateful that she had been loosed, he felt increasingly tormented. He glanced at the huddled figures in the cells as they passed. None were witches.
The jailer gestured into a cell and raised his candle outside the bars so that it shed a little light, enough that Lennox could see. When Lennox looked at the sorry circumstances his sister had been kept in, like an animal, the dark cloud in his soul grew larger.
Angered, he could scarcely contain his feelings. “They say she outwitted you?”
The jailer scowled.
“Come now. All along my route people are talking about her escape.”
“She was helped.”
Lennox cocked his head, waiting to hear more. Had Jessie gathered a coven around her the way he had? He could only hope that was the case. “Not by her sister?”
The jailer shook his head. “It was a man, strong brute he was. Dressed as a minister he did and I left him with her in good faith, to share the Lord’s words with her sorry soul.”