something to say, you'll be called as a witness. Get back to Scalpsie and your mistress."
Annie stared back at him with a boldness that surprised me and made no move to go. Mr. Macbean hesitated, but Mr. Robertson said worriedly, "If this young person has evidence of a material nature, she must come with us and give it before the court. A witches' Sabbath! I had no inkling that things had gone this far. The matter must be investigated. Superstition and hearsay must be separated from fact. I will remind you all"âhe nodded gravely at the crowd that was swelling all the time as people from Rothesay ran up the hill to watch and listenâ"that the only grounds for the conviction of witchcraft is consorting with the Evil One. I must warn you against heeding mere gossip and slander."
Annie was nodding earnestly at the minister's words, an expression of the most sickly humility on her face.
"Oh, Mr. Robertson," she said sweetly. "I wouldn't slander anyone, but that girl is tainted with evil like her grandmother, and there are things ... I can testifyâ"
"Stop it, Annie," interrupted Mr. Macbean. "Don't bother the minister now." He turned to Mr. Robertson. "But the girl is right. The witch's granddaughter should be examined too. We can lock them up together tonight and let them both answer to the court in the morning."
"Let them burn together! Let them rot in Hell together!" shouted the man whose brother had drowned.
I saw too late what a fool I'd been, and as one of the sheriff's men caught hold of my arms, gripping them with painful strength, I was flooded with such fear that I thought I would faint. The man shoved me toward Granny, who staggered under the impact so that we had to clutch each other to save ourselves from falling into the fire.
"Look at them, bound with the Devil's pact!" someone shouted, while others jeered and some began to jostle us and hit out with their fists. The sheriff's men, at a command from Mr. Robertson, put a stop to that, or I really believe that we would have been murdered on the spot.
"Little fool!" Granny hissed in my ear. "Why didn't you hold your tongue? Now you're in trouble. Don't let them see you're afraid. Do you want them to tear you to pieces?"
She was led out first, and as she emerged into the bright light outside the cottage, a kind of howl went up, the sound that dogs make when they scent their prey. I sensed a movement behind me, and looking around saw an old woman scooping oatmeal from our barrel into the linen bag lying on the table.
The insolence of such a barefaced theft enraged me. I opened my mouth to shout at her, but she frowned at me to be quiet and thrust the bag into my hands.
"Hide it quick, under your apron," she said. "You'll be needing this. They'll not feed you in the prison."
This small act of kindness shook me almost more than the terror and anger of the past half hour. Tears started into my eyes.
"Th-thank you," I stammered.
Her face hardened.
"Don't thank me. Tell your grandmother what I've done. She'll curse everyone that's come here. Tell her Christian Blackie did this, and she'll keep me out of it."
I had no time to reply. They were coming in for me. I snatched up my plaid and wrapped it around my head, and I let them take me.
And so we left the old cottage, with all the loons and wonder-seekers of the island jeering and capering around us, and set off up the long road to Rothesay. I stuck close to Granny's side. She had tossed her hair back, and the weal on her face where she'd been hit showed up as a scarlet slash. She marched with her usual deliberate stride, planting her feet down one after the other with force, as if she was stamping on the earth to punish it. Her mouth was set tight, and her eyes gave nothing away.
The people following us had fallen into a sullen silence, whispering to each other, passing poison back and forth between themselves.
All around us lay the quiet fields of Bute, green and lush, speckled with gold and
Annie stared back at him with a boldness that surprised me and made no move to go. Mr. Macbean hesitated, but Mr. Robertson said worriedly, "If this young person has evidence of a material nature, she must come with us and give it before the court. A witches' Sabbath! I had no inkling that things had gone this far. The matter must be investigated. Superstition and hearsay must be separated from fact. I will remind you all"âhe nodded gravely at the crowd that was swelling all the time as people from Rothesay ran up the hill to watch and listenâ"that the only grounds for the conviction of witchcraft is consorting with the Evil One. I must warn you against heeding mere gossip and slander."
Annie was nodding earnestly at the minister's words, an expression of the most sickly humility on her face.
"Oh, Mr. Robertson," she said sweetly. "I wouldn't slander anyone, but that girl is tainted with evil like her grandmother, and there are things ... I can testifyâ"
"Stop it, Annie," interrupted Mr. Macbean. "Don't bother the minister now." He turned to Mr. Robertson. "But the girl is right. The witch's granddaughter should be examined too. We can lock them up together tonight and let them both answer to the court in the morning."
"Let them burn together! Let them rot in Hell together!" shouted the man whose brother had drowned.
I saw too late what a fool I'd been, and as one of the sheriff's men caught hold of my arms, gripping them with painful strength, I was flooded with such fear that I thought I would faint. The man shoved me toward Granny, who staggered under the impact so that we had to clutch each other to save ourselves from falling into the fire.
"Look at them, bound with the Devil's pact!" someone shouted, while others jeered and some began to jostle us and hit out with their fists. The sheriff's men, at a command from Mr. Robertson, put a stop to that, or I really believe that we would have been murdered on the spot.
"Little fool!" Granny hissed in my ear. "Why didn't you hold your tongue? Now you're in trouble. Don't let them see you're afraid. Do you want them to tear you to pieces?"
She was led out first, and as she emerged into the bright light outside the cottage, a kind of howl went up, the sound that dogs make when they scent their prey. I sensed a movement behind me, and looking around saw an old woman scooping oatmeal from our barrel into the linen bag lying on the table.
The insolence of such a barefaced theft enraged me. I opened my mouth to shout at her, but she frowned at me to be quiet and thrust the bag into my hands.
"Hide it quick, under your apron," she said. "You'll be needing this. They'll not feed you in the prison."
This small act of kindness shook me almost more than the terror and anger of the past half hour. Tears started into my eyes.
"Th-thank you," I stammered.
Her face hardened.
"Don't thank me. Tell your grandmother what I've done. She'll curse everyone that's come here. Tell her Christian Blackie did this, and she'll keep me out of it."
I had no time to reply. They were coming in for me. I snatched up my plaid and wrapped it around my head, and I let them take me.
And so we left the old cottage, with all the loons and wonder-seekers of the island jeering and capering around us, and set off up the long road to Rothesay. I stuck close to Granny's side. She had tossed her hair back, and the weal on her face where she'd been hit showed up as a scarlet slash. She marched with her usual deliberate stride, planting her feet down one after the other with force, as if she was stamping on the earth to punish it. Her mouth was set tight, and her eyes gave nothing away.
The people following us had fallen into a sullen silence, whispering to each other, passing poison back and forth between themselves.
All around us lay the quiet fields of Bute, green and lush, speckled with gold and
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