Dunross, Scotland, June 15, 1679
Dunross, Scotland, June 15, 1679Mari wore only her shift and bare feet. They had taken the rest. With nothing to confine them, her dark chestnut waves tumbled over her shoulders. The beadle sent her on her way with a prod of his beefy fingers. She fixed her eyes forward and walked down the makeshift aisle in the barn that served as kirk for today’s secret meeting. Whispers wafted in waves as she passed by each row of parishioners and pressed toward her goal. On she proceeded past a grim gauntlet of narrow-eyed elders to arrive at the stool of repentance. It was oaken and plain, with a hole in the middle. A commode: meant to inflict shame. She sat on it and folded her trembling hands on her lap. Her bare feet were flat on the ground, and she pressed her kne
