The Fanatic

‘She’s a gift tae the folk that want tae hunt witchcraft tae extinction,’ said Lauder. ‘That’s the trouble wi it – ye canna cry the dugs aff yince their bluid’s up.’

‘Oor freen John Prestoun is slaverin at the bit tae be involved,’ said Eleis. ‘If it comes tae a commission, which I doot it must, Prestoun will be hankerin for a place on it.’

‘He aye hankers,’ said Lauder dryly. ‘There’s no an advocate like him for pleadin for himsel. He fell in fast enough wi the royal edict against appeals, and he has the same enthusiasm for findin lanely auld weemun and licht-heidit lassies tae be witches.’

‘I hate these trials,’ said Eleis. ‘I wish I could keep awa frae them. But if I didna plead for the puir craiturs, there’s gey few ithers would – no wi ony conviction, leastweys, for ye canna get a less popular panel than a witch – and the likes o Prestoun would hae a clear road tae drive them tae slauchter. There’s an unpleasant mochness in the air this spring, cousin. That thick feelin afore the thunder breaks. I fear there may be a storm o witchery aboot tae burst upon us.’

‘It may be a fierce summer then,’ said Lauder. ‘Ye’ll ken better than I, but I hear the west is awash wi fanatics forby witches, that they haud their conventicles weekly on the moors, wi thoosans in attendance. Lauderdale’s patience must be near whummelt. He claps the recusant ministers in the jyle, but there aye seems tae be mair tae rise and tak their places.’

‘Like hoodie-craws amang the corn,’ said Eleis. ‘It’s the Archbishop that’s forcin that issue, though. Lauderdale, in himsel, disna care a docken where folk gaither tae worship, if they dinna threaten the stability o the land – that’s ma opinion, though of coorse he could niver say as muckle. But St Andrews sees the field-preachins as a slight tae his ain authority, and has pushed and pushed Lauderdale tae act agin them. Sae the conventiclers cairry weapons tae their prayers noo, and there’s some o them jist ettlin for a chance tae defend their cause frae the dragoons. Noo that’s whit Lauderdale canna thole, for it threatens him, and sae ye’re richt, John, skailt bluid will follow.’

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