round of laughter followed his retort and everyone relaxed as they realized that the miller was in a particularly good mood. His well-known parsimony and love of gold were constant subjects of ridicule.
‘No, my friends,’ said the miller. ‘I have an announcement to make. This day, after one of the most bountiful harvests in memory, at a time when everyone seems to be doing so well, I wish to add to the joy of the moment by sharing wonderful news with you all.’
‘Out with it, then,’ shouted another voice from the crowd. ‘You’re making me thirsty!’
Throwing the speaker a black look, the miller smiled again. ‘I would like you all to know that this year my son, Grame, will be wed to Ellie Rankin.’
He motioned to where Ellie stood between the two boys, who looked as if they had just been poleaxed. Zane stood with a furrowed brow, as if he couldn’t quite understand what had just been said, and Tad stood open-mouthed, obviously unwilling to believe it.
Ellie was halfway to the wagon when the boys started after her. Caleb reached out and grabbed each by their collar and hauled them back. ‘Don’t go making a fuss now,’ he said in a low, menacing tone.
Tad threw him an angry look and Zane drew back his fist, but Caleb merely pulled upwards, lifting the boys onto their toes. ‘Don’t even think about it.’
Zane reconsidered, and let his hand fall to his side. Marie said, ‘If you stoneheads really care about Ellie, you’ll be happy for her. Now, the first one to start a fight will have to answer to me. Is that clear?’
Both lads said, ‘Yes, Ma,’ nodded and Caleb let them go.
The townsfolk had gathered to congratulate the engaged couple, while Tad and Zane continued to pout. Caleb indicated that Marie should join the throng, and said, ‘Come with me, boys. I’ve got something special for an occasion such as this.’
The boys looked like they were about to argue, but one glance from their mother caused them to nod and follow Caleb obediently.
He led them to a wagon behind the one which had carried the ale casks. Night was fast approaching and the festival was becoming more raucous. One of the teamsters sat on a buckboard, watching the town bestow its best wishes on the newly betrothed. The man was not a local, so he felt no need to join in, and remained contented with eating and drinking ale.
‘Thomas,’ said Caleb, greeting him.
‘Evening,’ said the wagoner.
‘You have that box up there?’
‘It’s under that tarp, Caleb.’
Caleb found the box and pulled it towards the rear of the wagon. Drawing out his large hunting knife, he used the stout blade to pry open the lid, exposing a dozen bottles of amber liquid. He picked one out and held it up to the lantern light.
‘What is it?’ asked Tad.
‘Something I discovered on my travels down in Kinnoch Country.’
‘Looks like brandy,’ said Zane. ‘The colour, I mean.’
‘Not brandy, but you’ve a good eye.’ Caleb turned, and sat on the back of the wagon, letting his feet dangle. ‘Brandy’s just boiled wine, this is something else.
‘In Kinnoch they have a way to distil a mash of grain, slowly cooking it over fires fed by peat, and then the brew is aged in casks. When it’s made badly, it can peel the paint off a warship’s hull, but when it’s made well—’ He bit the cork and pulled it out.
With his free hand he felt around in the box and produced a small cup of glass. ‘You can’t drink this out of clay or metal, boys. It’ll foul the taste.’
‘What is it?’ asked Tad.
‘They call it whiskey,’ said Caleb, filling the small glass to the top.
‘That’s not very much.’ Zane’s eyes narrowed as he regarded the tiny vessel which held no more than two or three ounces of liquid.
‘A little is more than enough,’ said Caleb, tipping the contents of the glass into his mouth and swallowing. ‘Ah,’ he said. ‘You try it.’
He produced another glass and filled them both. ‘You can learn to sip this later, boys. Just toss it back and swallow for now.’
The boys did as instructed, and an instant later both were coughing furiously, with their eyes watering. Zane said in a hoarse voice, ‘Damn me, Caleb, are you trying to poison us?’
‘It takes a little getting used to, Zane, but you’ll grow to love it.’
‘It burns like a hot coal,’ said Tad, whipping at his eyes with the sleeve of his tunic.
‘Give it a minute,’ said Caleb. ‘It’ll warm your gut.’
Zane smacked his lips. ‘Not that I think it’s good, but let me try another.’
Caleb poured again and the boys drank. This time there was no coughing, but their eyes continued to water.
‘I think I’ll stick to ale,’ said Tad.
‘I don’t know,’ said Zane. ‘There’s something about it I rather like.’
‘You’re a young man of promise, Zane Cafrrey,’ said Caleb.
Laughing, Tad said, ‘Whoa. I can feel it going to my head!’
‘The Kinnoch men say it “has a kick”, and they know of what they speak.’
‘What are you going to do with it?’ said Tad, indicating the other cases.
‘I’m taking it to my father, as a gift. There’s not a lot that’s new to him, so I thought he might enjoy this.’
‘Why are you giving us this?’ asked Tad. ‘I mean, thank you, but why?’
‘To take your mind off an imagined slight,’ said Caleb. ‘If I let you drink alone two things would happen.’ He held up a finger, while he poured them another drink. ‘Firstly, you’d receive no end of teasing from the other men in town who know how you’ve been butting heads over Ellie for nearly a year. Secondly, you’d just pick a fight with Grame.’
The boys quickly drank the whiskey and seemed to be getting used to it. Caleb filled their glasses again. ‘Here, have another.’
The boys finished their fourth drink, and Tad’s eyes began to close. ‘You’re getting us drunk. I can feel it.’
Caleb filled the glasses yet again and said, ‘One more should do it.’
Zane asked, ‘Do what?’ as his speech began to slur.
Caleb jumped down from the wagon bed. ‘Get you too drunk to pick a fight.’ He pushed Tad who wobbled as he tried to compensate for being slightly off balance.
‘Come along,’ said Caleb.
‘Where?’
