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to the back of my forearm. 'You will not see many handles like that. It is called ivory and is carved from the tusk of an elephant.'
    But the edges of the blade were of more interest to me. I touched them and gasped with the unexpected pain. They were sharper than those of any knife I had come across.
    'Put it back in its sheath. Then pull it out quickly, and try not to slice your skin as you do.'
    I did so. There was a ridge inside the leather sheath which held the dagger in place but was easily overcome simply by tugging at the ivory handle.
    'Do it again.'
    I did so several times. I found I could pull the knife out in an instant.
    'Now roll your sleeve down and repeat the process.'
    I did so.
    The Dominie nodded. 'Again, faster.'
    I did so, until I felt confident that I could snatch the knife out from under the sleeve of my tunic in an instant.
    The Dominie nodded in satisfaction. 'That is your friend,' he said. 'Put your trust in no other. Use him only when you must. But when you must use him, do so suddenly, and with great rage and boldness.'
    I began to thank him, but he silenced me with an impatient gesture. 'Another good friend. He has served me well but I no longer have need of him.' And from under the bed he produced a pole, about shoulder high, with a sharp metal spike on its end. 'He is happier in the open air than hidden under a bed. The mariners call it a boarding pike. It needs little skill but is very effective. There is no defence against this—' and he suddenly swept the pike from knee height upwards towards my stomach, stopping its point an inch from me. He laughed at my sudden fear. In the red light of the peat, his eyes watery and gleaming, he looked satanic. 'And if you thrust your opponent here' - he moved the point down to just above my groin - 'he will take hours, maybe days, to die in agony.'
    'I would not wish that on any man, even if he was not a Christian.'
    The Dominie looked as if he had something to say on the matter, but then changed his mind. Instead he pulled aside a curtain. 'Perhaps one last friend.' Over his unmade bed was a single shelf of books. He pulled one out and thrust it into my hands, almost with embarrassment. Again I started to speak, but he shook his head and turned my shoulders towards the door. As I left he said, 'I can give you no better advice than this, James. Hold onto your weapons, keep your own counsel, never get too close to any man. Now go, and God be with you, if there is a God.'
    I left, my head swirling like the clouds above me. Surely the world beyond the valley was not as dangerous a place as my drunken teacher implied? The Dominie was a man of God. But of what God, in truth I was beginning to wonder.
    The following morning, I crawled over my sleeping brother and stepped quietly down the ladder. Heavy snoring came from behind the curtain screening the hole in the wall where my parents slept. One of the pigs stirred. My satchel was prepared. As I lifted it I heard my name whispered: 'James!' Angus looked down at me, his face pale and strained. There was nothing I could say to him. I waved silently, my heart filled with sadness. Outside, the air was chill and damp. I took the drover's road running alongside the chattering Tweed and, with the mist coming down from the dark hills, turned south, away from the cottage where I had spent my life.
    After half a league the road took me past the smiddy, its windows shuttered. Fiona's home; Fiona of the long black hair and the cheerful smile; Fiona who, had I stayed in that valley, might some day have become my wife. She was fifteen years, my age. My will almost failed me at that point, knowing that if I walked past I might never see her again. But walk past I did, although with trembling knees and pain in my heart.
    Presently the mist began to lift, and the road skirted the broad marshland which was the source of the Tweed, and then wound along the rim of the Devil's Beef Tub. I took this dangerous road, treading