The Chessmen Read Online Free PDF Page A

half to three feet. No doubt Whistler could have found employment in the Viking workshops in Trondheim where the actual pieces were thought to have been carved out ofwalrus ivory and whales’ teeth in the twelfth century. But, Fin thought, he probably wouldn’t have liked the hours. He ran his eyes along all the pieces lined up against the wall. ‘You don’t seem to be selling many.’
    ‘These were commissioned,’ Whistler said. ‘Sir John Wooldridge wants them for the chessmen gala day. You know about that?’
    Fin nodded. ‘I’ve heard they’re bringing them home. All seventy-eight pieces.’
    ‘Aye, for one day! They should be in Uig year round. A special exhibition. Not stuck in museums in Edinburgh and London. Then maybe folk would come to see them and we could generate some income here.’ He dropped into one of his armchairs and cupped his hand around his face to run it over bristled cheeks. ‘Anyway, Sir John wanted these for some kind of giant chess game on the beach. The estate’s helping fund the gala day. I suppose he must reckon it’ll be good publicity.’
    Fin found his eye drawn by the band of gold on Whistler’s wedding finger. ‘I didn’t know you were married, Whistler.’
    He was momentarily discomposed, then took his hand from his face and looked at his wedding ring. An odd melancholy washed over him. ‘Aye. Was. Past tense.’ Fin waited for more. ‘Seonag Maclennan. You probably knew her at school. Left me for Big Kenny Maclean. Remember him? He’s the bloody manager now on the Red River Estate.’ Fin nodded. ‘Took my wee girl with her, too. Wee Anna.’ He was silent for a moment. Then, ‘Anyway, the bastard didn’t profit for long. Seonag got herself breast cancer and went and died on him.’
    He sneaked a glance in Fin’s direction, and then quickly away again, as if he was afraid that Fin might see some emotion in it.
    ‘Trouble is, that makes him Anna’s legal guardian.
My
daughter. No harm to Kenny. He’s all right. But she’s my kid and she should be with me. We’re fighting it out in the Sheriff Court.’
    ‘And what are your chances?’
    Whistler’s grin was touched by sadness. ‘Just about zero. I mean, look around you.’ He shrugged. ‘Sure, I could clean up my act, and maybe that would hold some sway. But there’s a bigger problem.’
    ‘What’s that?’
    ‘Anna. The lassie hates me. And there’s not much I can do about that.’
    Fin saw pain in his eyes, and in the tightness of his jaw, but he was quick to laugh it off, pushing himself suddenly out of his chair, unexpected mischief in his grin.
    ‘But I’ve carved out my own secret revenge.’ He replaced the bishop among the chessmen along the wall and selected another which he lifted on to the table. ‘The Berserker. You know what that is?’
    Fin shook his head.
    ‘The Berserkers were Norse warriors who whipped themselves up into a trance-like state, so that they could fight without fear or pain. The fiercest of the Viking warriors. Well, those old twelfth-century craftsmen made the rook in the likeness of a Berserker. Crazy bulging eyes, the mad bastard biting the top of his shield.’ Whistler grinned withdelight as he turned his carving around to the light. ‘I’ve taken a few liberties with my version. Have a look.’
    Fin rounded the piece to better catch the light and realized suddenly that Whistler had made his Berserker in the likeness of Big Kenny. There was no mistaking it. The same flat-faced features and broad skull. The scar on the left cheek. An irresistible smile crept across his face. ‘You clever bastard.’
    Whistler’s laughter filled the room. ‘Of course, no one will ever know. But I will. And now you will, too. And maybe when the gala’s by, I’ll present it to him as a gift.’ He looked at Fin with sudden curiosity. ‘You got any kids, Fin?’
    ‘I’ve got a son by Marsaili Macdonald that I never knew I had till a year ago. Fionnlagh, she called