The Chessmen by Peter May Read Free Book Online Page A

the man who saved her daughter’s life.’
    ‘By killing another man.’
    ‘The fiscal himself said there wasn’t a jury of your peers who would have convicted you for killing to save innocent lives. You did nothing wrong.’
    ‘In the eyes of the law perhaps.’
    ‘You had no choice.’
    ‘There’s always a choice.’
    ‘And you chose the lesser of two evils.’
    ‘God is clear, Fin. Thou shalt not kill. It wasn’t a request, it was a command.’ He drew a deep breath. ‘At any rate, that’s what my accusers will argue. And that’s what I wanted to ask you about.’
    ‘The sixth commandment?’
    Which drew a chuckle. ‘No, Fin. I think I am familiar enough with your views on the subject of anything to do with God and the Church.’
    ‘What, then?’
    Donald’s smile evaporated. ‘The Presbytery has decided to take the matter to a disciplinary court. Effectively a trial. Under Church law. If I want to keep my job I will have to defend myself. And they want to call witnesses. They want to call you, Fin.’ Now, for the first time, he appeared to be uncertain of himself. ‘Will you testify?’
    And Fin remembered all those moments from childhood when Donald had stood up for him, even when it had meant putting himself at risk. He felt emotion rising in him like a river in flood. For a moment he could barely trust himself to speak. Then at last he found his voice. ‘Donald, how could you ever imagine I wouldn’t?’
II
    It was the following day that Fin had had his first meeting with Jamie in the landlord’s private office. Fin and Kenny stood looking over the No. 13 Ordnance Survey Landranger map of West Lewis and North Harris spread across the desk, while Jamie used an orange felt-tipped marker to outline the various water systems that made up the Red River Estate.
    It had been clear that Big Kenny was bored. He knew the estate and its water systems probably better than any other living soul, but Jamie was his boss, and Jamie wanted to brief Fin personally.
    Jamie’s office was cluttered, a large desk very nearly filling it. Glass cases of stuffed fish and fishing flies lined the walls, an imperious-looking stag’s head mounted on a plaque above the door.
    Fin remembered Jamie from teenage years spent in Uig with Whistler. Sir John Wooldridge had brought his son up to the island from boarding school somewhere in the south of England every Christmas, Easter and summer holiday to learn about the estate. He was a couple of years older than the rest of them, but even as a teenager had already acquired the subliminally patronizing attitude of the landowner. It had not really been that long since the whole of Lewis had belonged to a single landowner, and those of its people who rented crofts and worked the land were treated little better than serfs. When it had been decided, back then, that grazing sheep was a more profitable use of the land than crofting,many tenants had been forcibly evicted and shipped off on boats to Canada and America, with not much more control of their lives than the slaves taken there from Africa.
    Memories were long, stories of the land clearances spanned generations, and landowners were still regarded with suspicion and a little fear. And although their powers these days were restricted by Act of Parliament, and crofters had security of tenure on the land, a landowner continued to be seen in a strange, reluctant way as being superior. A regard landowners also had of themselves.
    Jamie was lean and tanned, but losing his hair, and since his father’s stroke had brought his wife and two children to live with him full-time at Cracabhal Lodge. He had a creamy, languid, southern accent, although to Fin’s surprise demonstrated a remarkably good grasp of Gaelic. His speaking of it was close to unintelligible, but his understanding was impressive. He wore moleskin trousers, knee-length boots and a Barbour jacket.
    ‘We have five water systems on the estate, Fin, rivers that feed in and