The judges were made of somewhat tougher fabric. Peering out from my hiding place, I could see Jeff glaring at Jamie. Mutt appeared more bemused than annoyed at this sudden intrusion.
"Do ye dare to draw arms against the justice of God?" snapped the tubby little judge.
Jamie drew the sword completely, with a flash of steel, then thrust it point-first into the ground, leaving the hilt quivering with the force of the blow.
"I draw it in defense of this woman, and the truth," he said. "If any here be against those two, they'll answer to me, and then God, in that order."
The judge blinked once or twice, as though unable to credit this behavior, then surged to the attack once more.
"You have no place in the workings o' this court, sir! I'll demand that ye surrender the prisoner at once. Your own behavior will be dealt with presently!"
Jamie looked the judges over coolly. I could feel his heart hammering beneath my cheek as I clung to him, but his hands were rock-steady, one resting on the hilt of his sword, the other on the dirk at his belt.
"As to that, sir, I swore an oath before the altar of God to protect this woman. And if you're tellin' me that ye consider your own authority to be greater than that of the Almighty, then I must inform ye that I'm no of that opinion, myself."
The silence that followed this was broken by an embarrassed titter, echoed here and there by a nervous laugh. While the sympathies of the crowd had not shifted to our side, still the momentum carrying us to disaster had been broken.
Jamie turned me with a hand on my shoulder. I couldn't bear to face the crowd, but I knew I must. I kept my chin as high as I could, and my eyes focused beyond the faces, to a small boat in the center of the loch. I stared at it 'til my eyes watered.
Jamie turned back the plaid, holding it around me, but letting it drop far enough to show my neck and shoulders. He touched the black rosary and set it swinging gently to and fro.
"Jet will burn a witch's skin, no?" he demanded of the judges. "Still more, I should think, would the cross of Our Lord. But look." He dipped a finger under the beads and lifted up the crucifix. My skin beneath was pure white, unmarked save for the smudges of captivity, and there was a gasp and murmur from the crowd.
Raw courage, an ice-cold presence of mind, and that instinct for showmanship. Colum MacKenzie had been right to be apprehensive of Jamie's ambitions. And given his fear that I might reveal Hamish's parentage, or what he thought I knew of it, what he had done to me was understandable too. Understandable, but not forgivable.
The mood of the crowd now swayed to and fro, uncertain. The bloodlust that had driven it earlier was dissipating, but it might still tilt like a cresting wave and crush us. Mutt and Jeff glanced at each other, undecided; taken aback by this last development, the judges had momentarily lost control of the situation.
Geillis Duncan stepped forward into the breach. I do not know whether there was hope for her at that point or not. In any case, she now tossed her fair hair defiantly over one shoulder, and threw her life away.
"This woman is no witch," she said simply. "But I am."
Jamie's show, good as it was, was no match for this. The resulting uproar drowned completely the voices of the judges, questioning and exclaiming.
There was no clue to what she thought or felt, no more than there ever was; her high white brow was clear, the big green eyes gleaming in what might be amusement. She stood straight in her ragged garments, daubed with filth, and stared down her accusers. When the tumult had quieted a bit, she began to speak, not deigning to raise her voice, but forcing them to quiet themselves to hear her.
"I, Geillis Duncan, do confess that I am a witch, and the mistress of Satan." This caused another outcry, and she waited again with perfect patience for them to quiet.
"In obedience to my Master, I do confess that I killed my husband, Arthur Duncan, by means of witchcraft." At this, she glanced aside, catching my eye, and the hint of a smile touched her lips. Her eyes rested on the woman in the yellow shawl, but did not soften. "Of malice, I placed a spell upon the changeling child, that it might die, and the human child it replaced remain with the fairies." She turned and gestured in my direction.
"I took advantage of the ignorance of Claire Fraser, using her for my purposes. But she had neither part nor knowledge in my doings, nor does she serve my Master."
The crowd was muttering again, people jostling to get a better look, pushing nearer. She stretched out both hands toward them, palm outward.
"Stay back!" The clear voice cracked like a whip, to much the same effect. She tilted back her head to the skies and froze, like one listening.