Trial
The Court’s departure for Edinburgh was postponed so that a speedy trial could be convened the day after Lochwood’s arrest. The king exercised his right as sovereign to act as sole judge in the case. A murmur of agreement with the pronouncement rose from the crowd packed into the Great Hall.
Broderick was more than relieved the matter would be dealt with quickly. He was in a hurry to get back to Caerlochnaven and begin his new life with Kyla. He doubted the outcome of the trial would be any different if a jury of Lochwood’s peers was assembled. The evidence against him was overwhelming.
The accused might argue the king was not an impartial judge. His attempt at escape from under the royal nose had infuriated the monarch above and beyond his dismay at the crimes committed. However, if Lochwood hoped for a quick and painless death, he’d be wiser not to challenge the king.
Kyla and Lily were not allowed to be present for the proceedings. Broderick was glad his sister would be spared the ordeal, but soothing Kyla’s ruffled feathers hadn’t been easy. She’d eventually allowed her father to persuade her it would be better not to be there.
“Besides,” Broderick told her softly, “I’ll testify to Lochwood’s actions when he forced me into the tidal bore, but I’ll nay be sharing what passed between us.”
She blushed. “I hope I wasna too brazen, but ye’re a bonnie man.”
It was exhilarating that his male endowments impressed her but recognized there was a more profound reason for what had transpired at the Nith. “Ye gave me courage when my own deserted me.”
“Ye did the same for me when Lochwood had me by the throat.”
He mulled over their whispered exchange as the trial began, marveling at the alchemy he shared with a lass he’d know only a short while. A sudden hush drew his attention as Lochwood was dragged in and shackled to a metal ring in the wall.
The wretch was almost unrecognizable, clad in soiled pantaloons and a linen over-shirt. He resembled a hedgehog with his once elegantly coiffured hair cropped short. He gazed around in a daze, seemingly puzzled by what was afoot.
Broderick had no notion what had happened to the clothing stolen from him, nor did he care. He’d retrieved his sword from the gatehouse, and the missing scabbard could be replaced.
James sat ramrod straight during the reading of the charges by some elegantly garbed functionary who probably hadn’t expected to be playing an important role in such momentous proceedings—a prominent Scottish laird, on trial for his life. It brought back too many bitter memories for Broderick. The sooner it was over, the better he’d feel, and he grieved for the Lochwood Clan’s humiliation. At least his father had a son to assume the mantle of Caerlochnaven and the lairdship of Clan Maxwell. Corbin had no issue.
Asked how he pleaded to the charges, Lochwood mumbled something unintelligible. When the official looked to the throne for guidance, the king ordered him to proceed with a careless wave of the hand.
Called to testify first, Darroch MacKeegan gave an account of the trading agreement he’d made with Corbin Lochwood, admitting his misgivings about the man’s character and intentions—the reason he’d followed his daughter to the Solway. “I’ll ne’er forgive myself for putting my bairn’s life in jeopardy,” he said, choking back his emotion.
The crowd muttered its understanding of his sentiments.
Nicolson then told of Lochwood’s suspicious behavior when the vessel docked overnight at Mingary. “If ye ask me, James Stewart, he wandered the docks in search of illicit cargo.”
Most held their breath, waiting to see the king’s reaction to the Highland brogue and the informality of his assertion, then chuckled after a condescending smile tugged at the corners of the royal mouth.
The navigator described his shock when Lochwood refused to heed the Warden’s warning and held a pistol to the captain’s head.
James stroked his beard. “As a result, two men drowned and the birlinn lies at the bottom of the Firth, along with whatever he was smuggling.”
Someone in the crowd muttered Opium, and the word rippled through the hall, the murmur silenced by the king’s glaring countenance.
Nicolson concluded his testimony with an account of the journey from Gretna, the attempts to get through the inner gate, and the subsequent brawl in the ditch.
“We’re curious,” the king said. “What were ye doing outside the walls with blacksmithing tools?”
Nicolson shifted his weight. “I canna lie, Sire, we were so desperate to inform Yer Majesty o’ yon mon’s crimes, we thought to get in through the postern gate.”
“And ye just happened to have the tools.”
Nicolson studied his feet. “Aye.”
James arched a bushy eyebrow. “And a good thing too. The sledgehammer came in useful after all, eh?”
When Adrian was called upon, the king lavished praise on the youth and tutted loudly when told of Lochwood’s craven behavior after the sinking.
Broderick began to wonder nervously what new information he could possibly add, but he was required to describe in detail the sinking of the Lanmara, the efforts to rescue the shipwrecked sailors, the discovery of Cladh’s body, the journey to Darling Abbey to converse with the abbot, the kidnapping of Lily Maxwell and Kyla MacKeegan, Lochwood’s theft of Broderick’s clothing and weapons and his subsequent intent to consign the Maxwell laird to a watery grave.
Throughout his testimony, he never took his eyes off Corbin Lochwood, but the wretch gave no indication he knew what was going on. It was as if his wits had abandoned him altogether.
There was a flurry of excitement when the king got to his feet, pulling his ermine-lined cloak around his shoulders. “Lairds Maxwell and MacKeegan, ye have suffered much at the hands of the mon who stands accused this day. The only good thing we can say is that ye and yer womenfolk survived the ordeal.” He turned his steely gaze on Lochwood. “We pronounce ye guilty o’ the crimes of murder and abduction perpetrated against these worthy families and their servants, and guilty o’ treason against our royal personage.
“Yer lands and castles are hereby forfeit to the Crown until such time as a new and more suitable laird can be found and installed. We are certain nay all the Lochwoods are as corrupted by evil as ye.
“Ye’ll be taken from here, transported to the Tower of London, and beheaded. Do ye have aught to say?”
The day the Royal Court had pronounced sentence on Broderick’s father, Alasdair Maxwell had squared his shoulders, nodded stoically and accepted the justice of his sentence.
Corbin Lochwood dissolved into loud sobbing, causing those present to avert their eyes in embarrassment as he was dragged away to his fate.