Page 8 of Leila’s Legacy

“All are souls in need of absolution regardless of their land of birth.” Bernard lifted his head up a notch, showing an unmistakable bravery Niall would not have credited him with moments ago. The priest knowingly put himself in danger to help others.

Alban began to pace the room with a bored expression.

Niall ignored him. “We were told ye had warning the plague was coming. Is that correct?”

Bernard hesitated. Niall said nothing and let silence pressure the priest into speaking.

“Aye,” Bernard answered at last.

Alban met Niall’s eye. It was answer enough for Alban, who was ready to find Lady Leila and put her on trial. Niall, however, held himself to a higher standard of honor and wanted firm proof before he arrested someone on the charge of witchcraft.

A priest’s word, especially the priest of the castle where she lived, would be ideal.

“Was it Lady Leila who gave ye warning?” Niall pressed.

Bernard shifted in his seat and Niall tried not to think of the discomfort of the man’s wet clothing beneath him in the chilly dungeon.

“She’s ill,” Bernard said eventually. “With the pestilence. She goes to the village often to help others, to heal them. We feared her being around the contagion, but she insisted. We don’t think…” He swallowed. “We don’t believe she will survive.”

“It’d be fitting if she didn’t,” Alban spat. “Considering she cast it upon us with her magic. She made it obvious by cursing the Armstrongs first. Families of the very men who took her several years—”

“Enough.” Niall’s voice echoed off the stone walls.

In truth, it did not surprise Niall to hear she had the pestilence. What better way to appear innocent than to suffer from the same affliction she had cast with her spell? That her own people had become ill as well had troubled him initially, but her determination to aid them brought it all to light.

No doubt her own spell had grown beyond her control, spreading out to hurt her own countrymen over the whole of England.

Witches had great power, more than even they surely realized. However, Niall knew well the impact of their craft. As did his father, Renault the Honorable, God rest his soul.

“Is Lady Leila Barrington a witch?” Niall asked abruptly.

The priest’s eyes went wide. “I b…beg your p…pardon?” he stammered.

“Do ye think Lady Leila Barrington is a witch?” Niall repeated slowly.

Bernard’s chest rose and fell quickly from behind the Bible, making it move with each frenzied breath. “She’s different from her sisters,” he answered carefully. “I was different from my brothers too. Markedly so. Like her. She feels alone, cast out from them, despite their attempts to make her feel loved and wanted. It is hard to be different. So, so very hard to be different.”

The tirade had yielded nothing of use. If the man didn’t hold a Bible in his hands, Niall would have assumed he was lying to get out of the questioning. The woman he met in the village outside of Werrick Castle did not appear to care if she was unloved or unwanted.

Niall crossed his arms over his chest. “Do ye believe Lady Leila to be a witch? Aye or nay.”

Sweat glistened on Bernard’s brow and he huffed in frenzied pants.

Alban stepped closer to him. “If he willna talk, I’ll make him.”

Niall held out a hand to stay the younger man. Bernard was still a priest, one who had put himself in harm’s way to aid their people. He deserved their respect.

“I’ll ask ye one more time, Priest,” he said levelly. “Do ye think Lady Leila is a witch?”

Bernard swallowed and met Niall’s gaze. “Nay.”

Niall narrowed his eyes at the twitchy little priest, who shrank behind his Bible. Slowly, Niall moved back to allow access to the open door. It hadn’t been necessary to close it. If the priest even tried to run, Alban would have killed him before he got to the entryway. Lord Armstrong’s son was fast, Niall would give him that.

“Ye can go.” Niall nodded toward the door.

The priest did not move.

“Now. Before I change my mind.”