Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Several people dallied on the main road into Stonehaven. Instead of the marketplace thoroughfare, the men and Teagan veered to the right, stopping at a central area complete with a wooden raised platform and a horrific, blood-stained post.
Real, live, whipping post, complete with notches and dark stains where injured criminals had fought against the lash.
At least there wasn’t a noose. Ailith was grateful for small favors.
The men threw Teagan onto the platform, and the one she had called Alistair stood next to her.
“I, Alistair Keith, stand here on behalf of the Keith Chieftain. We have found the one accused of witchcraft and offending the Keith clan with her treasonous ways. Who here will testify to her guilt?”
Whoa. That was fast. What happened to courts? Did they have those yet? Or at least a priest or official or someone like that? Was this something the townspeople or the local Laird handled? Could anybody go up to Alistair and claim Teagan dallied in witchcraft?
Apparently.
But it stunk more of a personal offense than a religious one, and Ailith’s historical knowledge of witchcraft only brought to mind the church witch trials of the late Middle Ages.
As far as she could discern in this moment with Teagan, witchcraft was little more than another excuse to exact personal revenge than it was to remove a heretic speaking out against God.
Well, that was problematic. No wonder William didn’t seem to find any religious issue with Ailith and her tales of time travel. Alba had other, more pressing concerns than what far-flung churches and religious leaders thought of errant women or pagans.
A few people pushed forward while others fell back.
Ailith noticed that most of the crowd did not wear the mask of fury that Alistair wore.
Nay, most of the people backing away appeared more terrified than anything else.
One man leveled his eyes at Ailith before retreating between two wattle-daubed buildings.
So not everyone believed this witch bullshite, she thought. But Teagan must have really gotten under someone’s skin for this reaction.
Well, if those who believed her guilty could push her way through to the front, so could she. Ailith took a moment to assess her surroundings, then her eyes landed on a banner stuck into the ground on a wooden pole.
Her thin grin returned. There it is.
Weaseling her way through the crowd, she grabbed the pole, which came out of the ground with ease, and tugged the banner off to expose the bare pole.
She felt her new knife press against her thigh.
The weight of her makeshift staff and the knife under her skirts gave her the courage she needed to step through the crowd.
“I demand a trial by combat instead!” Ailith shouted as she emerged in front of the platform.
Alistair Keith looked down his bulbous nose at her while Teagan’s eyes flew open wide.
“What are ye doing?” Teagan whispered harshly. “I told ye to hide!”
“I would ask the same. What are ye doing?” Alistair demanded.
Ailith gulped. Was she doing this right? God, she hoped so. William would be irate, but again, this appeared to be a life-or-death situation for Teagan, which Ailith believed qualified under her agreement with him.
“I demand her guilt or innocence to be determined in a trial by combat,” Ailith repeated in a voice loud enough to convey her false confidence.
The Keith man stared at her for several seconds.
“Ha,” he burst out. Then followed it with more. “Ha. Ha. Ha!”
He was laughing at her.
His reaction bothered Ailith little. She’d had men laugh at the prospect of her fighting before.
“Ye? Ye think to stand as her champion and fight for her innocence?” His belly jiggled as he laughed again, as did a few villagers in the crowd behind her. “Ye have to be speaking in jest.”
She shook her head. “Nay. No jest. Trial by combat.”
Alistair stared down his nose at her again, his mouth a pursed line under his scraggly beard. Then he shrugged.
“If ye request it. A trial by combat it is. Do we have a champion for the Keith clan?”
His voice held a mocking tone as he asked for volunteers. In a sick moment, Ailith hoped it would be the man from earlier, the one assaulting his wife, but she wasn’t that lucky.
Instead, a slightly portly man with a red nose and bloodshot eyes stepped forward. Was he drunk? Sick? Bad diet? She evaluated as much as she could about him as he moved toward the platform. The more she knew, the better she could mentally prepare.
Know your enemy. Study him. He will tell you everything you need to know to defeat him, her Ju-Jitsu sensei spoke in her head. He will show you his weaknesses, and if your enemy is larger than you, his pride will be his greatest weakness.
“I will fight the lass.” The man gave her a once-over. “Too bad the witch will no’ have a chance at innocence. Ye should have kept your mouth closed to help your friend, lass. It might not have ended so badly for both of ye.”
Ailith had backed up near the platform, leaving her satchel at the edge, and Teagan spoke just loud enough for Ailith to hear her.
“Why are ye doing this? Ye canna expect to win. I was going to be found guilty no matter what. Now ye are going to get yourself injured or worse for an inevitability?”
“Hush,” Ailith shushed her. “Dinna leap to any conclusions. All is no’ lost.”
“Ye will get us both killed for certain! If not ye by this man, then afterward, when they kill us both for witchcraft!”
Ailith ignored her friend to focus on the man. Portly, that meant slower moving, but could also mean stronger with heavier hits. Williams’ words came back to her – strength meant speed when it came to swinging heavy steel. On the upside, he might tire quickly as well if she could keep him moving.
Soft spots? His kidneys, that was easy. Avoid the waist, William had told her – and this man’s belly was too thick. It wasn’t armored protection William had been talking about. Cutting into fat, not vital organs, would not win the day for her with only her staff and knife.
His legs appeared thin, so he might be top-heavy. Taking out a knee might be easy enough. He wasn’t overly tall, so he didn’t have William’s long reach. She’d just have to avoid the sword, or knock it out of his hand . . .
“Who are ye, lass, to think ye can fight a man on ye own?” the grizzled Keith man asked. “Your husband or father should be ashamed of ye behaving this way.”
She hated how he wasn’t entirely wrong. Just how pissed would William be with her? She’d find out once word of this got back to him. But that was a tomorrow problem. Ailith lifted her chin.
“My name is Ailith Gordon MacDougal, wife of William MacDougal of clan MacDougal, sister to Chieftain Seocan Gordon, and niece to Chieftain Cormag MacDougal. And I promise ye, my husband will hear of this.”
The crowd’s snickering died down as she listed the names. Word of the king’s death at the hands of the four allied clans – Gordon, Grant, MacIntosh, and MacDougal, with MacDougals leading the charge – surely had reached Keith ears, and she’d let them know that she was cut from the same cloth.
“I’ll no’ allow this fight,” Alistair scoffed at her as he changed his mind. “I’ll no’ allow a wee lass with a stick who wants to play warrior to cause trouble between our clans. The woman will face judgment, and ye’ll stay out of it.” He pointed a nubby finger at Ailith.
His words seemed sound, but Ailith recalled some snippets of conversation regarding the divisions in the Highlands, and how the Keiths were not as on board with the Gordons or MacDougals as they were with the Morays. Playing both sides, perhaps? Nay, she’d not let his hollow words sway her.
“I will not,” Ailith said. “If ye wish to have no trouble between our two clans, then ye will release this innocent woman, or not deny me the right to her justice.”
“Justice?” the other, portly Keith suddenly yelled, anger masking his face in deep red. “What does a lass know of justice? Your husband must put ye in your place. Drop your stick and find a needle for sewing.”
The crowd tittered at his insult, but Ailith kept her training at the forefront of her mind. She’d allow this man to get angry while she maintained a level head.
“Ailith, please!” Teagan whisper-shouted from where she clung to the platform. “Leave whilst ye can. Find your man. Ye can do more for me if ye seek out William than ye can here!”
Oh, Teagan, ye have no idea … Ailith thought with a modicum of pride, which she immediately squashed. Master Park would have her head if she showed an ounce of disastrous pride.
“I know ye’re molesting a woman with no proof of any wrongdoing,” Ailith called out, pointing her own finger back at the man.
“Is this Keith justice? If so, I shall scream it in every village for miles around. I'll go back and tell my own clan that not only are the Keiths willing to harm innocent women, but they’re afraid of true justice and denied me the right to seek it.”
Then she spun, sweeping her arm around to those watching this spectacle.
“Ye call yourselves men? Warriors? Say I should find my sewing?” Ailith shouted to the crowd, facing as many as she could. “Yet ye fear two wee women. I say to ye again. Release the woman or give me my right to fight for her.”
Ailith blew out a shaky breath and hoped she sounded confident to the Keiths.
The crowd of onlookers started chattering. Some were shouting to release the woman, as others chanted to give Ailith the right to fight. Ailith knew those who yelled for him to allow the fight only wanted to see her beaten.
Alistair’s lips moved, but no words came out as he cursed her silently for putting him in this position. She could see his mind work – he didn’t want to allow this trial by combat, but he also could not allow her to make demands on him merely because she was born a Gordon and bedded a MacDougal.