Damaged Sequel to Forbidden
Elizabeth Victoria Wallace
Damaged Chapter 1
Elizabeth Victoria Wallace
Š2012 Elizabeth Wallace
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Prestwick - Scotland 1640 Chapter 1 Sister Catherine McDonald shivered as the watery sun dipped behind a cloud. The crisp air bit into her slim body, and she shivered as watched the spectacle from atop the cart. From this location she could see it all, and it sickened her. When the hangings began, the cheers and jeering of the crowd drowned the screams and cries of the condemned as they fell to their death, but, as the final few mounted the steps of the gallows, the spectators became quiet and watchful, and a hush fell over the crowd. Some women gathered their children into the folds of their skirts in a vain attempt to protect them from the brutality, but it was too late. They, like their parents, had witnessed it all and now they turned away in disgust. “Where are you going?” shouted a mocking voice in the crowd. “Home,” shouted the father over his shoulder. “I won’t stay here another moment, and if you’ve any decency left, you’d do the same.” The man roared with laughter, slapping his leg. “Go home then if you have no stomach for it, but I want to see it through to the end.” The last members of the Sawney Bean clan fell through the trapdoor. Their bodies’ still warm, lay heaped unceremoniously where they had been dragged. Some were on their stomachs, others on their backs, their dead, lifeless eyes staring at nothing. Their arms and legs festered in weeping boils and sores were tangled in death, as they had been in life. Their filthy clothes, were little more than rags, now exposed parts of their naked bodies to the world. 2
But the there was no gloating by the people of Prestwick, who averted their eyes as they filed by the dead. Ravens and crows soared above the village green, drawn by the stench of death. Their large feathered wings and black beady eyes never lost sight of their prey. They were quickly followed by swallow-tailed kites that caught the thermals and swooped together with quarrelsome gulls, each jockeying for position in the midday sky. But it was the black ravens that dominated the air. Screeching loudly, they swooped provocatively over the smaller birds, that settled on fences and trees, and waited their turn. Catherine suppressed a sob. Did the younger children mounting the steps to the gallows know they were about to die? She trembled at the thought. Feeling faint, she clutched the side of the cart, her knuckles as white as snow, her mind swirling. Finally, her legs buckled beneath her, and she sank gracefully to the bed of the cart. As the villagers moved towards their homes, some joked about the hangings. One woman stormed ahead chiding her husband over her shoulder. “You are heartless, James Brodie? Those children were victims too. What harm did they do?” “What harm did they do? You stupid woman,” said Brodie as he scowled at his wife’s back, “they saw everything, they participated in everything. My God woman, how can you be so naïve? I’m glad they’re all dead.” The woman stopped dead in her tracks. A deep frown creased her brow as she turned on her husband. She hissed a response, "But they’re not all dead are they? Didn’t you see the king’s lieutenant drag the little ones aside, and put them in a cart? Screaming, spitting and kicking like wild animals they were, and to what end? What will become of them? Who will take them, where will they go?”
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“I don’t give a damn,” responded Brodie as he marched ahead of his wife, “they can throw them into the loch for all I care. They’ll be no different from their parents. What they saw inside that cave is etched in their minds forever. I don’t believe any of them should have been spared.” Following up the rear, Allan Dougall, a wheelwright spoke. He was a man they all respected, and the little group clustered around him. “In my opinion, the end came too quickly. When I think of all the men who were put to death over the years for crimes they didn’t commit, I shudder with the guilt. Men who swore on the Bible they’d done nothing wrong except be in the wrong place at the wrong time.” He scowled at the last remaining villagers, “Mark my words, justice was served today, and we shouldn’t forget it. I suggest we go back to our homes, and get on with our lives.” Brodie scowled, “If it’s all right with you Dougall, I want to enjoy this moment, savor it even. You seem to forget I lost my sister in law to clan, and her husband, Sinclair, has never recover from the shock of seeing his dear wife Maddy dragged off before his very eyes. Even now, he sits and stares at nothing, hardly eats a morsel. To be honest, I doubt he’s long for this world.” “As usual, you’ll do whatever you want,” muttered Dougall shaking his head in disgust, “but I’m off home with my wife and children.” Brodie ignored the slight, and stood in a doorway watching as other men walked up the narrow, cobbled street. “Anyone want to join me for a tankard of ale?” Several villagers peeled away from their families and the small group pushed towards the Rose and Crown pub. Brodie sidled up to the bar. “I thought Malcolm Gunn did an excellent job, what say you?” mumbled Brodie as he stuffed his hands in his pockets, 4
rocked back on his heels and slapped some coins on the bar. “Did you see how he decided on the actual location of the scaffold yesterday? He marched around the village in those black boots of his as though he owned the place. He didn’t make any mistakes though did he, and judged each body weight perfectly, even the little ones. Did you know he brought his own nooses? He said he made them with his own hands. Now landlord, let’s have a round of ale to celebrate.” “I still can’t believe it,” murmured one man as he wiped his beard with the back of his hand. “All those years…and all those people the clan killed and ate,” he said the latter in a hushed tone, shaking his head miserably, “I agree with you Brodie, I wanted them all dead too.” Brodie nodded appreciatively, and took a gulp of his ale. “I’m glad Gunn kept Sawney Bean and that wife of his until the very end. Did you hear Sawney cry, and beg for mercy? I thought his wife would do the same, but instead she kept searching the crowd, even as Gunn tried to put the noose over her head. Then she let out that terrifying scream." He shuddered openly, “I shall remember it all my days.” “Did you see who caught her eye?” asked the man. “Aye, I did,” said Brodie. “It was the wee lass, the nun in the carriage with that young man. There’s talk in the village that she and that fellow of hers travelled all the way from Essex, England – alone, I might add. Can you imagine the gossip? What on earth has a woman of the cloth got in common with him?” He frowned and nodded in the direction they had come and shook his head in disgust as the little group of men leaned towards him conspiratorially waiting on details. "I shouldn’t have said anything, but you know how women can be – there’s so many tales floating around, I don’t know what to believe.”
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“Come on, out with it Brodie. I want to hear more. You can’t stop now!” Brodie’s voice was almost a whisper. He looked around furtively before continuing, making most of the attention. “Word has it her mother and sister, and half-sister were involved with the clan.” “May God help her?” said the landlord crossing himself. “I’ve heard the rumors of course; I don’t want to hear anymore.” “Well I do, let’s finish our drinks and see what we can find out.” Brodie turned sharply on his heels, and marched back towards the village green, the others close behind. As they approached the cart, they slowed their pace, nudged each other and nodded towards the young couple who seemed oblivious to all those around them. The young man was supporting the woman who appeared shaken and pale. “What do you think that’s all about?” murmured Brodie out the side of his mouth. No sooner had he uttered the words than a large wolfhound crawled out from underneath the cart. The hair on the back of the dog was raised, and he growled menacingly. Brodie took a step back. “Is that your dog?” he yelled up at the young man, “If it is, you should teach it some manners.” He scowled down at the animal, and brought his leg back as if land a kick. “I wouldn’t if I were you,” responded Tom King angrily as he lent over the cart. “Trust my word, his bite is far worse than his bark.” Brodie pursed his lips and looked from the man to the woman, whose face was partially hidden by her flowing red hair. He noticed her hands were shaking as she pushed her hair inside her hood.
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Not wanting to lose face Brodie snarled back, “I’m just saying…he should be put in his place. Next time, you might not find someone so accommodating.” He turned on his heels, and nodded in the opposite direction. “Come on men let’s go back to the inn.” When he was out of earshot he murmured out the side of his mouth. “What do you make of all that? Something’s not right. I don’t like the look of that fellow she’s with, or that damn dog, but there’s more to this than meets the eye – mark my words.”
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