On the Royal Mile: Accused

She thought she was clever. She thought no one spotted the cloaked figure racing through the pre-dawn light. She didn't know that another shape followed close behind, keeping just a few steps away until she reached the gates of the Macgregor home.

~ * ~

The Lawn Market was bustling with people as Caitriona Macgregor moved from stall to stall, filling the basket draped over her arm with vegetables and flowers. Her eyes glanced furtively toward the small woman a few stalls away. Casually, Cait moved to the herb vendor. She leaned over the auburn-haired girl, reaching for a stalk of parsley. Her breast brushed against the woman's shoulder, their fingers innocently grazing against each other. The woman felt Cait's breath against her cheek. She turned her head, her eyes lingering on Cait's lips before shifting to her dark green orbs. Cait smiled and pulled back, walking away without speaking a word.

Mairi's eyes followed Cait as she moved away. She watched the tall woman's hips sway as longing surged through her veins. Mairi grinned, watching as Cait stopped at a stand selling fabric. Mairi made her way to the same table, standing near her lover. "Vixen," she whispered.

Cait was fingering a delicate blue fabric. "You would look good in this," she answered. She dropped something into Mairi's basket and resumed her shopping. Mairi looked at the red flower lying across the top of her purchases. She held it to her nose, inhaling the fragrant scent as she stared after Cait. She was smiling as she watched her lover fade into the crowd of people.

She gasped when someone grabbed her arm. She looked into the stoic face of one of the city guards. He was glaring emotionlessly at her. Another hand gripped her other elbow. She turned her head to see Alan Wilcox's angry expression. "Mairi Robertson," he bellowed, loud enough for everyone to hear. Talking and moving in the crowd stopped. A circle widened around them. "You are under arrest for the crime of witchcraft!"

Mairi's heart stood still. She knew what happened to witches in Edinburgh. She knew those accused of the crime rarely received a fair trail. She also knew that Alan Wilcox was not motivated by a desire to uphold any law, but by his fury over her continual rejection of his advances. Unwillingly, she looked the way Cait had disappeared. Her lover was staring back at her, her face revealing the turmoil that burned inside her. "Run!" she thought, willing Cait to obey even though she could not give voice to her fears. "Run!" Cait dropped her head, their eyes breaking contact, and walked deeper into the crowd as Alan Wilcox and his minion dragged Mairi toward the Tollbooth Prison.

Wilcox threw her into one of the cells. She sprawled on the cold floor and flashed her disgusted eyes at him. "You can't prove this," she growled.

His smile was smug as he peered down at her. "This is Edinburgh," he proclaimed, "I don't have to provide proof; I just have to convince the crowd I'm right." He took a menacing step closer, even though the locked door protected her. "Besides, I have all the proof I need."

"You have no proof! You can't, because it's a lie."

"You know what they do to witches, don't you? If you don't confess, perhaps we'll forgo attempting to provide proof and just have a trial by douking. Do you know what that is?"

"Of course, I do. Do you think torturing me will help you forget all the times that I rejected you? Will you feel vindicated?"

He did not respond immediately and finally decided to ignore her accusation. "Perhaps I can arrange for your innocence to be proven." He made an obscene gesture and laughed when she turned away from him. "But I've already created suspicion of a witch in our midst. The people will expect an execution. You give me another name, and we'll discuss amnesty for you."

"Bastard," she hissed without taking the bait.

"That's what I thought you would say," he remarked. He shrugged his shoulders and walked away, leaving her alone in the dark cell. Light filtered through the small window in the room. She could hear the voices of the crowd on the Royal Mile. Mairi stood and peered out the window into the street. Her eyes searched for Cait. Wilcox's words indicated that he knew Mairi had a special relationship with another woman. Perhaps he even suspected that the female was the reason Mairi had rejected him. She would not betray her lover, but she also felt the need to warn Cait that her arrest might be a trap. Her eyes moved over the people in the growing crowd. Word had spread quickly that a witch had been arrested. People were gathering for the show. She knew that Wilcox would soon drag her out of the prison, parade her through the crowd, and perform a mockery of a trial. She had no doubt that she would be found guilty and burned at the stake. For a kitchen maid, even a maid at Holyrood, the execution would occur at the Grass Market. Of course, if Wilcox hoped to use the incident to advance his career, a burning on the esplanade of the Castle Hill would draw more attention. Cait needed to stay away.

The crowd was beginning to get restless. They were crying for the witch to be burned. They were cheering for her execution before the trial even began. "Please, Cait," she whispered, though she could not see her lover in the crowd. "Don't come. Stay away."

"Have you reconsidered my proposal?" Wilcox demanded through the small opening in the doorway. His voice gave her chills. It made her stomach cringe. The key rattled in the lock and the hinges squeaked as the heavy wooden door swung open. "Or will you be facing the gallows alone?"

"The gallows are the least of my concern at the moment," she answered as she dropped away from the window. She turned to her captor, knowing that he held her life in his hands. For a brief moment, she considered offering to marry him, but she couldn't spend her life with a man who used his position of authority to manipulate those around him. Life would not be worth living if Cait was not in it. "I will accept the fate that you have determined for me and hope that God has other plans."

"God can't save you, witch. Perhaps your master will rescue you."

"I believe you are a much better example of one of Satan's servants," she spat.

The key rattled in the lock and Wilcox jerked the door open. He grabbed her upper arm and yanked her toward the doorway. She cried out as she felt ligaments tear in her shoulder. She could feel an evil aura radiate from the confident smile on his face. She felt cold where his rough hand gripped her as he pulled her out of the Tollbooth Prison. The crowd cheered and parted as the officer dragged his prisoner passed St. Giles Cathedral to the Mercat Cross. Mairi's eyes moved across the people, praying that she would not see Cait in their midst.

She latched onto a cloaked figure lingering at the rear of the crowd and groaned inwardly. The cloak had hidden Cait well during their secret trysts, but now it made her stand out. "No," she mouthed as Cait lowered the hood. Their eyes met. "Go," she pleaded. She wanted Cait to leave. She didn't want her lover to witness the horror of the trial. At the same time, Cait's presence gave her the strength she would need to endure the torment Wilcox had planned. She could survive anything if Cait were at her side.

She was thankful when Wilcox blocked her view and she prayed silently as he grabbed her wrists that Cait would disappear from her line of sight. She was afraid that the magistrate would follow her eyes and pinpoint her lover. She had to protect Cait. Wilcox pressed her wrists together and pushed her thumbs up. His eyes were cold as he slid something cool and metal over her knuckles. She looked down as he tightened the screws.

The crowd cheered as Wilcox stepped backward, revealing the prisoner. "Tighten the screws! Tighten the screws!" they yelled. "Give her the pilliwinkes!"

"Mairi Robertson!" Alan Wilcox bellowed above the crowds rumbling. "You have been accused of witchcraft! How do you plead?"

"Not guilty, you son of a bitch," she spat venomously.

"Tighten the screws! Tighten the screws!" the rabble encouraged.

Wilcox complied. The rings tightened around the skin between her hand and her knuckle. Her heart thudded. "Mind your language," he growled through clenched teeth. Those near the front of the mob chuckled. "Mairi Robertson has been accused of witchcraft and pleads innocent of the charges."

"Tighten the screws! Tighten the screws! She'll confess!"

Wilcox was happy to oblige. The metal bit into her skin and she winced, much to the delight of the crowd and the magistrate. "Where is the evidence?" she seethed.

"Evidence?" he bellowed, his voice echoing off the dark stone walls of the Royal Mile. The crowd didn't care about evidence. They cared about seeing the accused suffer until she confessed, and then seeing her suffer until she died. "Mairi Robertson has been seen mixing herbs and spices."

"I work in the kitchen at Holyrood Palace!" she answered.

"So she is a danger to the royal family!" Wilcox announced.

"Tighten them! Tighten them!"

Her thumbs were throbbing as Wilcox twisted the screws tighter. They were turning red and starting to swell as he appeased the crowd's cries.

"She has been accused of using her powers to torment her neighbors. She cast a spell on Jamesina Quigly, causing the woman to fall and break her leg."

"Jamesina Quigly is a drunkard! She fell after drinking too much ale at a festival in the Grassmarket," Mairi stated in an attempt to defend her honor.

"Aodhan Vickers lost his commission with the royal navy after coming into contact with Mairi Robertson at Holyrood."

"He was caught stealing from the King's treasury."

"Isobel Nevin was attacked by a vicious dog after passing Mairi Robertson on the street. Isobel Nevin stated that Mairi Robertson gave her the evil eye."

"Everyone here knows that Isobel Nevin is a whore. If her bed can be bought and sold numerous times a night, so can her testimony. Your honor, Alan Wilcox, did you buy her testimony before or after you visited her bed?"

With each accusation, the thumbscrews were tightened. Tears were streaking down Mairi's face as the pain increased. Her thumbs were starting to turn purple. The metal rings pinched a nerve, causing the pain to spread from her thumbs to the rest of her body. "Do you deny all of these accusations?"

"I do," she cried as he cinched the small torture device tighter. "I am innocent."

Her knees were buckling as the pain increased. Her whole body was trembling. She screamed as he turned the screws again. Tears blurred her vision.

"We have eyewitnesses who have seen you having improper conduct with another woman," Wilcox announced.

Mairi's head snapped his direction as the accusation landed on her ears. Her heart was pounding and she knew her reaction made her guilt unquestionable. "There is testimony that a woman has been seen at her flat, coming and going under the darkness of night."

"No answer for that, have you?" Wilcox leaned in close to her ear as he again tightened the instrument. "Perhaps we can reach a deal if you give up her name."

"Never," she hissed, though the vehemence in her voice faltered as a wave of pain racked her body.

"Mairi Robertson, you have been accused of witchcraft. How do you answer?"

Mairi did not answer immediately. She was crying too hard to form the words. The crowd began chanting for Wilcox to increase the torture. "How do you answer?" he repeated, his voice a growl above the noise of the onlookers.

"To the gallows with her! Burn her! Tie her to the stake! Tighten the screws!" The cries of the crowd echoed in her ears. Her vision swam. Starbursts formed before her eyes. She felt lightheaded. Her knees buckled as Wilcox screamed again. "You have been accused of witchcraft. How do you answer, Mairi Robertson?"

"Not guilty!"

The crowd fell instantly silent because the answer had not come from Mairi's mouth. Mairi lifted her head with dread and fear in her eyes. "No," she whispered. "Guilty. I'm guilty."

"She's innocent of the crimes of which you accuse her," a firm voice announced. Caitriona Macgregor shed f her cloak as she pushed her way through the crowd. She met Wilcox's eyes. "I am the witch. Mairi Robertson is innocent. I bewitched her."

A smug smile broke on Wilcox's face as he made a subtle motion. Two guards quickly grabbed Cait's arms. Cait did not resist. "Let her go."

Mairi, the thumbscrews still biting into her skin until pain pulsed through her whole body, shook her head. "She's out of her mind. She is not guilty."

"I put a spell on Mairi Robertson," Cait insisted. "That is why I have been coming and going under the dark of night. I had to give her instructions and insure that she remained under my control."

"We have a confession," Wilcox declared. Cait's shoulders remained square as she looked the magistrate in the eye. Mairi sagged weakly, sobbing because of Cait's willing, loving sacrifice.

"Let her go," Cait demanded.

"We have a confession," Wilcox repeated. "But how do we know that Mairi Robertson is not the cursor instead of the cursed. She could be the leader of a coven. Perhaps Caitriona MacGregor is bluffing. Perhaps she is taking the blame for her mistress of darkness."

"I told you, I am guilty," Cait screamed, struggling for the first time against the grip the guards had on her. "Let her go."

"There is only one way we can be certain of Mairi Robertson's innocence." He paused, the crowd silent as they waited for his pronouncement. "The douking stool!"

The crowd erupted into cheers and Cait screamed desperately. "No!"

"The douking stool will determine Mairi Robertson's guilt or innocence. And because Caitriona Macgregor has done us the service of a confession, there will be no need for a trial. To the Nor' Loch!"

"No!" Cait yelled as they began dragging Mairi away from the Mercat Cross. The noblewoman wrenched her arms free and ran to her lover. She cupped Mairi's face in her hands, ignoring the cheers and boos of the growing audience. "I love you, Mairi Robertson," she whispered passionately. "I love you."

Both women were crying, tears streaking their cheeks. Mairi nodded, the emotion in her throat so thick that she could not give voice to an answer. They kissed, blotting out the condemnations of those surrounding them. It was a fierce, passionate, desperate kiss. Their lips clung together until the guards finally jerked them apart. Cait landed on the cobbled stones of the Royal Mile. The crowd closed around Mairi as she was led toward the Nor' Loch. Cait scrambled to her feet, her eyes trying to catch one last glimpse of her lover. She could hear Mairi calling for her, but iron shackles closed around her wrists. She was jerked backward and pushed in the opposite direction of the flow of people toward the Tollbooth Prison.

She did not fight as she lost sight of Mairi altogether. The guard shoved her into the same cell that Mairi had occupied earlier. He released the cuffs and she sank to the cold floor as the horror of the moment settled over her. She pulled her thighs against her chest and rested her forehead against her knees. Tears continued to flow unfettered down her cheeks even though her uncontrollable sobbing had stopped. Nothing would stem the tide spilling from her deepest heart.

She could picture the scene at the Nor' Loch as she awaited the results of Mairi's trial. Her lover would not fight as her tormentors tied her to the weighted stool. The wench would swing her above the thick, polluted water, the stench of the floating sewage gagging those who stood beside the shore. The guard would hit a lever and release the pulley that held her suspended in mid-air and she would plunge quickly into the brown water. They would slowly turn the crank and the stool would rise. Mairi would gasp as she emerged from the water, her hair and dress dripping. The lever would immediately be released again and the process would repeat three times. If Mairi lived, they would say that Satan had saved her and she would be burned as a witch and a heretic. If she drowned in the process, she would be declared innocent.

Darkness came fast on the Royal Mile. The tall buildings and narrow streets quickly plunged the city into shadows. The night sky matched the mood of the city. Clouds hung over the moon, hiding any natural light that might spill into the prison cell. Cait did not move, even as the chilly air crept into the prison. The stone floor made the cold a worse torture than the thumbscrews. In the darkness, she accepted her fate as punishment. Her passion for Mairi had led to their downfall. If she had controlled her lust, Mairi would not have been accused of witchcraft. Neither would be condemned. In the dark, damp, cold of the Tollbooth Prison, Caitriona resigned her soul to hell. If the Devil had come to her then and offered to buy her soul, she would have sold it in exchange for Mairi's life.

She didn't lift her head when she heard footsteps moving through the prison. The visitor stopped outside the prison door. "Well, it seems that you were both telling the truth. Mairi Robertson was innocent."

"Bastard," she spat at Alan Wilcox. "I hope you are satisfied with the results of your treachery, because you will have to live with this betrayal of the law for the rest of your miserable life."

"You'll not have to worry about the condition of my soul for long. As for the condition of your soul, well, your confession solidified that."

"Then I'll see you in hell, Alan Wilcox."

~ * ~

The Scottish Register records that Lady Caitriona Macgregor was burned at the stake for witchcraft on the Castle Hill. A large crowd gathered to witness the death of a confessed witch, especially one engaged to such a powerful man as Gilchrist. Gilchrist left Scotland shortly after for the colonies. According to the records, Caitriona Macgregor died well.

According to another source, Magistrate Alan Wilcox, Captain of the Home Guard, was found dead in the Cowgate shortly after Caitriona Macgregor's execution. The cause of death was unclear. There were numerous people that he had manipulated over the years that would have been glad to see him dead. Some say Gilchrist had Wilcox murdered. Others say that guilt finally overwhelmed the officer and he took his own life. Depending on who is telling the story, Caitriona Macgregor cursed Wilcox with her dying breath. As a result, her spirit tortured him until he died.

In Edinburgh today, on damp nights when fog drifts through the closes from the North Sea, a cloaked shadow can be seen racing across the Royal Mile and disappearing through the arch leading to Advocate's Close. If you follow the shadow down the winding close, you'll see it pause and look up before passing through a door. Listen closely, and you'll hear laughter and then the passion of lovers forced apart and reunited at last.