The Maiden

Kate Foster THE MAIDEN Contents Chapter One: CHRISTIAN Chapter Two: CHRISTIAN Chapter Three: CHRISTIAN Chapter Four: CHRISTIAN Chapter Five: CHRISTIAN Chapter Six: VIOLET Chapter Seven: VIOLET Chapter Eight: CHRISTIAN Chapter Nine: VIOLET Chapter Ten: VIOLET Chapter Eleven: CHRISTIAN Chapter Twelve: VIOLET Chapter Thirteen: CHRISTIAN Chapter Fourteen: CHRISTIAN Chapter Fifteen: VIOLET Chapter Sixteen: CHRISTIAN Chapter Seventeen: VIOLET Chapter Eighteen: CHRISTIAN Chapter Nineteen: CHRISTIAN Chapter Twenty: CHRISTIAN Chapter Twenty-One: VIOLET Chapter Twenty-Two: CHRISTIAN Chapter Twenty-Three: VIOLET Chapter Twenty-Four: CHRISTIAN Chapter Twenty-Five: VIOLET Chapter Twenty-Six: CHRISTIAN Chapter Twenty-Seven: CHRISTIAN Chapter Twenty-Eight: VIOLET Chapter Twenty-Nine: CHRISTIAN Chapter Thirty: VIOLET Chapter Thirty-One: CHRISTIAN Chapter Thirty-Two: CHRISTIAN Chapter Thirty-Three: VIOLET Chapter Thirty-Four: CHRISTIAN Chapter Thirty-Five: VIOLET Chapter Thirty-Six: CHRISTIAN Chapter Thirty-Seven: CHRISTIAN Chapter Thirty-Eight: VIOLET Chapter Thirty-Nine: CHRISTIAN Chapter Forty: CHRISTIAN Chapter Forty-One: VIOLET Chapter Forty-Two: CHRISTIAN Chapter Forty-Three: CHRISTIAN Chapter Forty-Four: VIOLET Chapter Forty-Five: CHRISTIAN Chapter Forty-Six: VIOLET Chapter Forty-Seven: CHRISTIAN Chapter Forty-Eight: VIOLET Chapter Forty-Nine: CHRISTIAN Chapter Fifty: VIOLET Chapter Fifty-One: CHRISTIAN Chapter Fifty-Two: VIOLET Chapter Fifty-Three: CHRISTIAN Chapter Fifty-Four: VIOLET Chapter Fifty-Five: CHRISTIAN Chapter Fifty-Six: VIOLET Chapter Fifty-Seven: CHRISTIAN Chapter Fifty-Eight: CHRISTIAN Chapter Fifty-Nine: VIOLET Chapter Sixty: VIOLET Chapter Sixty-One: CHRISTIAN Chapter Sixty-Two: VIOLET Chapter Sixty-Three: CHRISTIAN Chapter Sixty-Four: CHRISTIAN Chapter Sixty-Five: VIOLET Chapter Sixty-Six: CHRISTIAN Chapter Sixty-Seven: VIOLET Chapter Sixty-Eight: CHRISTIAN AUTHOR’S NOTE ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS To Margaret Foster, my mum I wish you could have read this She was a woman of a godless life, and ordinarily carried a sword beneath her petticoats. Historical Notices of Scottish Affairs by John Lauder, Lord Fountainhall Chapter One CHRISTIAN The Tolbooth Jail, Edinburgh October 1679 You are sentenced to beheading. God have mercy on your soul. Prepare yourself in prayer. The sheriff’s words clang, pious as the bells of St Giles’, all the way from the court back into the jail. Six High Constables haul me across the square, batons braced, just in case. I’m dangerous, the broadsides say. Their other hands grab for all the parts of me they can reach. Fingers and thumbs claw at buttons and bows. Their faces leer too close and blur into a mess of roar and gawp. All I have left to fight back with are my feet, kicking everything away that comes too close. I’m at the centre of the commotion, yet one step removed, hit by everything in flashes. The sour stench of a vegetable pedlar. The red plume of a hat. The thought of the slam of a blade. They’d said the judge might believe me. Wear your white lace gown. Fall to your knees and plead your innocence. Now the dress hangs from me, dragging in the dirt until I’m back inside, a thunderclap of bolts sealing the door. I should have searched for Johanna in the crowd. I should have taken one last look at the sky. I’m dragged up the steps into the stink of corridors, past yellow candle lanterns and the debtors and delinquents. They’ve guessed the verdict by the clamour. ‘Chop,’ they hiss, brushing their necks with their filthy fingers, eyes agog. Once the constables have thrown me back into the top cell and wiped the sweat from their foreheads, their faces say, Well, aren’t you wickeder than you look. They’ve pulled my gown loose. They stare as I try to put the bodice right. Despite the gloom, their smirks shine. I cringe at the furthest wall near the window, the dank of the stones seeping into my skin. You’ll be taken up to the Tolbooth platform on Monday to be executed at the blade of the Maiden. Find a minister of the Kirk for your last hours. Murderess. Three days. Will they make Mother watch? Will I ever see Johanna again? Or see the rippling fields of Corstorphine, the gorse roaring up its hill, as bright and bold as I believed myself to be? Now I am just my own hammering heart, each thump of it inside my chest ticking down the minutes until I’m a dark slick of hair in piss-stained lace, bound and barefoot, keening in terror. I should have begged harder. I should have tried to look more distraught at the fact he is dead. The constables are spick-and-span now, coats smoothed down and hats straightened as they rattle out of the room, leaving only me and the guard. He fills the space of the doorway, his head almost brushing the top. The knuckles of his hands touch each side of the door frame. ‘That advocate of yours will be waiting downstairs,’ he says, not moving an inch. ‘Could you fetch him, please?’ I say. I have learned to keep my voice meek for this particular guard. ‘And what do I get in return?’ The silvery light from the barred window slants across his face. His dark eyes glint. ‘I’ll tell him to pay you the usual two coins,’ I whisper. ‘Oh, but my price has gone up,’ he says. ‘Now that you’re condemned.’ I will not let him see me flinch at that word. I hold myself still. ‘Then tell my advocate your price,’ I say, and he folds his arms across his great chest and nods, savouring every moment of our exchange. ‘That I will,’ he says. ‘And remember: you can have anything you want here. Make your last days comfortable. For the right price.’ He grins, letting his tongue loll over his lips. His face is flushed with the thrill of being alone with a murderess. ‘Thank you,’ I say, sounding as grateful as I can. He brings a key from his chain and leaves slowly, locking the door behind him, whistling with those foul, wet lips as he goes. And I am alone for the first time since the verdict. The Maiden. There was a sketch of it, in a pamphlet in our library at Roseburn House. Scotland’s Most Abominable Crimes. But it was on the high shelf that I was absolutely forbidden to read from, so I only did when no one was around. An execution machine with a wooden frame and