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CHAPTER THIRTY

Kirkwall, Orkney

December 1594

ALISON

No one has been to see me for three days. Has something happened to William, or the children? Why has Mr.Couper not been to see me?

Never before has the uncertainty of my situation felt so grave.

It is dawn when David Moncrief appears in the dungeon. I feel my stomach churn. I suspect his presence is to inform me of something terrible, but instead he unlocks the door and passes through a basket. He says nothing, but touches his chin. The Triskele gesture for I wish you well .

So he is still Triskele.

But he has stood by as I have been abused, vilified, watched as Father Colville made me stand naked before him, David Moncrief, and John Stewart, as he pricked me, as he made Mr.Addis cut off my hair.

I inch toward the basket, smelling salted pork. I suspect it may be poisoned, but I devour it anyway and drink the milk in one go, followed by the water. There are apples inside the basket, and oranges, and as I peel the fifth orange, something falls out of the middle.

I stare, confused. It is a piece of paper that has been folded meticulously and slipped inside the core of the orange, part of the rind removed and then replaced to conceal it.

Gingerly, I open it.

It is written in Triskele, but the meaning makes me gasp.

Mr.Couper has been murdered.

You must hold fast. Do not confess or Orkney will fall.

The Triskele are still with you.

I rip the paper into tiny bits and secrete them individually into the gaps of the stone wall, fearful in case Mr.Addis sees.

Then I hold my head in my hands and weep for Mr.Couper, and his family. He is dead because of me.

And I do not know whom I can trust.