15
Work never ceased on the island. As the days passed in a flurry of preparations, Finlay and Isla never had the opportunity to repeat the closeness they had in front of the fire in the islet bothy. Finlay wished he did not miss Isla so much. It bothered him how often during the day his mind wandered to thinking about their encounters in the past and what the future might have in store for them if they managed to retake the castle.
He knew he needed to speak with the blacksmith and his daughter before they ventured back to Dougal Castle, but for now, he had to concentrate on the very real problem of running out of money. The harbor village tradesfolk and merchants must be paid. They were very happy to accommodate the Dougal soldiers for now. With the Norse mercenaries dead and a new laird’s men taking their place, the bakers and butchers were more than happy to extend credit to Finlay’s quartermaster. But one morning, ten days after he docked the two longboats in the harbor, the alderman of the village came to see Finlay while he was having a meeting with the quartermaster.
The man bowed. Finlay was the son of a laird and by far a better type of person to have in their little town than a band of mercenaries, but bills must be paid.
“Sire,” the alderman began to say after placing his woolen bonnet back onto his head, “the next shipment of wheat flour from the mainland arrives anon, and the baker wants to ken if ye might see yer way to settlin’ yer account with him so that he might pay the captain.”
It was a reasonable request and politely made. The only problem was that Finlay’s men did not have the gold.
“Thank ye for bringing this to my attention, good alderman,” Finlay said. “Be sure that I will send someone with payment.”
After the man bowed himself out of the hall, the quartermaster frowned. “D’ye ken somethin’ I have nae heard about, Fin? Where are ye gettin’ the money from?”
Finlay did not answer him and sat staring at the parchment on which the two men had been calculating expenses. Now that the soldiers could no longer expect payment from the castle, the only thing keeping them under Finlay’s command was their close kinship with the Dougal clan and the faint hope that they might conquer in battle and reclaim the castle. They could not hold out the hope that the steward would honor any of their back pay either. It was the goodwill of the Burwick villagers that was keeping them fed and that might disappear the moment the wheat flour was not paid for.
“What about the blacksmith’s daughter?” the quartermaster suggested. “I heard she’s worth a pretty penny or two.”
Finlay shook his head. “I’ll no’ pledge me troth to the girl until I can call meself laird o’ Dougal Castle again. An’ even if we were bound to wed, I would nae want to use me bride’s dowry to fund my ambitions.”
The quartermaster shrugged. “If ye don’t borrow the money from somewhere, Fin, ye won’t have a castle or bride or win this blasted war once an’ for all. I’d say ye’ve run out of options.”
Unsure which he hated the most—his penniless circumstances or the fact he had to beg the blacksmith to sign surety for the wheat flour when the shipment arrived at the harbor—Finlay walked to the forge as slow as he could, all the while racking his brain for some other way to get hold of some money. When Master McDonnell saw him, he raised his tongs in a salute.
“Good morrow, sir. What brings ye to the smithy? Can I craft ye another sword?”
Finlay was still using the sword he had taken from one of his men. That was another thing he had to worry about; Master McDonnell was paying the ironmonger out of his own pocket. He was writing drafts against his gold in Inverness and paying a high interest on the credit too. Finlay wanted to bury his head in his hands; he felt so ashamed.
“Good morrow, Master,” he said. “If I have nae already thanked ye for yer forbearance in sponsorin’ our venture thus far, please may I take the liberty to tell ye now?”
The blacksmith chuckled, wiping his sooty hands on his leather apron. “Awa’ with ye, sir. I don’ need thankin’ all the time. Just see us to the city walls o’ Inverness when all o’ this is over. That will be thanks enough.”
Finlay knew he must tell the blacksmith the truth.
“The thing is this, Master: I need several more things from ye if I am to succeed in retakin’ the castle…”
The moment he said the words, Master McDonnell put down his hammer and moved away from the anvil.
“Let’s go sit inside the parlor,” he said to Finlay. “I’ll see ye there anon after I’ve washed.”
The last thing Finlay wanted was a formal conversation with the blacksmith in the parlor of his rented rooms.
“Och Master, it’s none so serious as that. All I want is for ye to sign for the boatload o’ wheat due to dock at the harbor today. An’ as for the other matter, it can wait.”
The blacksmith stopped and turned around. “I’ll need to have it in writin’ that in return ye will see Isla an’ me safely to the Inverness city walls. That’s all I ask.”
Hating himself for not being more straightforward, Finlay agreed. “Aye, I’ll have Alex bring the bond over this evenin’. I’ll pay ye back for the weaponry too.”
The blacksmith and the laird’s son were true Dougal clan. There was no doubt in their minds that they would win the day once Finlay’s soldiers managed to penetrate the castle.
As Finlay turned to leave, Master McDonnell had a parting shot.
“Seein’ as this money is comin’ from Isla’s dowry, sir, might I ask that ye obtain her permission too? She’s inland helpin’ the men search for the buried treasure, although I personally think it’s all May an’ moonshine. There’s naught buried on this island except Norsemen bones.”
Finlay had not been avoiding Isla, but he had not seen her for some days because of all the preparations they were making. Besides, there was a huge difference between a wild young woman who was free to make love by the fire when her father was asleep and a prim young maiden who acted with decorum while under the watchful eyes of her father.
He bid the blacksmith farewell and went looking for Isla.
