“Losing a wee portion of the profit would be better than losing the whole of it as weel as a few lives.”
“It would. There is no arguing that truth.”
And it was just that truth that kept Brian returning to the plan that included stops at places where they could shelter in safety. They would also be places where a few extra swordsmen could be gathered if trouble rode at their heels. Brian knew it all made sense but he had to fight to subdue his reluctance to lose even one coin brought in by this new venture he had begun. The money was helping Scarglas grow stronger. Even more important, it was helping him to gather enough coin that he might, one day soon, be able to get a piece of land for himself.
The mere thought of holding his own land or owning his own home twisted Brian’s heart with a longing that grew stronger every day. He did not envy or resent his brother Ewan’s place as laird of Scarglas. He also cared for every brother his father had bred, the illegitimate as well as the legitimate. Yet he ached to have something of his own, and there was always someone with acreage or a manor who was willing to sell off a small piece of the family’s land because of a need for some coin. Marrying for a piece of land or house was another way, but he refused to leash himself into a marriage for such gain. The only other way to get some was to gain the king’s favor, and the chance of a MacFingal doing that was very small.
Perhaps envy did prod him, he decided with an inner grimace. He not only wanted his own piece of land, he wanted what his brothers Ewan and Gregor had. Even what those irritating fools his cousins Sigimor and Liam Cameron had. He wanted his own home, his own family. He wanted a woman to come home to, one who actually cared if he came home at all. He wanted children. The only thing he would not do to gain the land he wanted was marry for it. His craving was also for a woman who truly wanted him, one to love him and the children they would have. Marrying a woman for money, a house, or land was not the way to get that.
It was a craving he kept to himself. Brian knew that, if he admitted to such a need, some of his brothers might take a moment to think carefully. If they did, they would soon realize he had no bastard children. Even worse, they might realize that he did not take as many opportunities to produce one as so many of them did. Brian had heard more than enough of the teasing his eldest brother, and laird, Ewan had endured for having “monkish” ways to know that he did not want to suffer it, too.
“Ye are looking verra solemn, Brian,” said Simon as he rode up by his side.
“Just wondering if the storm has cost us anything,” Brian said, and then frowned.
The moment the words left his mouth, Brian recognized the large possibility that there was some truth to them. When the storm had struck he had cursed the wet and chill of the rain and wind. Now he considered the fact that what had been annoying to them on land could be treacherous, even deadly, out upon the water. It would not beggar them if they lost the cargo, but several plans he had made to improve Scarglas would have to wait until the next shipment, which could be a long time in coming if he had to make new arrangements for his cargo.
It would also grieve him if the men he had come to know and trust were lost. He hated to think of the men losing their lives to the sea they had all loved so well. Brian pushed aside a pinch of guilt. He had not forced Captain Tillet to join him, nor any of the sailors with him. They had all wanted the coin such trade could earn them as badly as he did and had been happy for the work.
Brian shook away his dark thoughts. They would soon arrive at the small cove and he would have his answers, good or bad. He could only pray they were good ones.
“Weel, it appears God didnae listen to me today,” Brian muttered when he dismounted on the small beach and surveyed the unmistakable signs of a shipwreck.
“Jesu, Brian, do ye think anyone survived?” asked Simon as he stepped up to flank Brian.
“There is always that chance. Search the beach,” he ordered, and joined the eight men with him as they spread out to begin the search. “Look for both men and goods.”
For two long hours they searched the shoreline as bodies and wreckage continued to wash ashore. The pile of salvaged goods grew but Brian’s pleasure in that was severely dimmed by the number of dead they retrieved from the water. They found only five men alive, the burly Captain Tillet amongst them. The bruised and weakened men had been given blankets and were settled by the horses. For now, they would stay at Scarglas.
It was as he walked toward Captain Tillet, intending to ask the man what he wished to do with the bodies of his crew, that Ned grabbed him by the arm. He frowned at the youth, irritated by the interruption. Aside from the care of the dead, Brian needed to ask the recovering Captain Tillet what he had meant when he had claimed they had been attacked.
“Look there, Brian!”
The excitement in Ned’s voice was enough to make Brian look where his brother was pointing. “At the rocks?”
“Aye, but I saw something moving there. S’truth, I did! I am certain I caught a wee peek of someone watching us.”
Brian bit his tongue against the urge to scold Ned for having too much imagination. The rocks were too far from the water for any of the crew to have hidden there. Nor was there any reason for one of Tillet’s crew to hide from them. There was a very small chance that someone spied on them, but the cove was so well hidden, the nearest cottage too far away, for that to make sense. When Ned began to stride toward the rocks, however, Brian followed. As they rounded the rocky outcrop, Brian came to a halt and cursed.
“I told ye I saw something,” said Ned.
“Aye, that ye did,” agreed Brian. “A shame ye didnae see those knives, though.”
Two young boys, wet, shivering, and wearing little more than rags, stood over a body sprawled face-down on the rocky ground. Both boys looked terrified but they held the knives in steady hands. Brian knew he could easily defeat them but he held his hands out to his sides and smiled at them. The way they protected what appeared to be a woman’s body deserved such respect.
“We are nay here to harm, but to help,” he said.
“Why should we trust ye?” asked the taller of the boys in an interesting blend of French and Scottish accents.
“Did ye trust the captain of the ship ye were on?”
“Aye, he was a good man.”
“If ye look toward the horses ye will see how he fares.”
“Michel, have a look, and tell me what you see,” the boy ordered the smallest one in French.
Michel peered over the rocks and answered in French. “The captain is alive as are some of his men. These men have given them blankets, talk to them, and smile. The captain smiles, too.”
