“This is MacCusk,” said MacCuish. “His wife Sara.” To MacCusk he said, “These two men are interested in the Englishman I brought.”

MacCusk looked at them, then he and MacCuish spoke in their own language. Whatever it was they were saying to each other, the details, the finer points, it was clear from the tone that the interest was not welcome.

The woman brought a bottle and glasses. She put out a loaf of flat bread, unwrapped the muslin from a joint of cold meat. Her gown at the back was not properly fastened. She must have pulled it on at the sound of voices.

“Lo siento por llegar tan tarde,” said Medina, speaking to her under the noise of the other’s talking.

She glanced at him, went on setting the table. He was sure, however, she had understood him.

Calley was watching the to and fro between the old shipmates. Then it broke off and they all sat at the table.

“Well,” said Calley, once he had eaten his bread, “we’re still wondering where our friend might be. As he doesn’t seem to be in the house.”

MacCuish glanced at MacCusk. On MacCusk’s hands two rust-red fish and an angel. Letters across his knuckles. Hold. Fast.

“He went away,” said MacCusk.

“Away where?”

“To the north.”

“North where?”

“He did not say.”

“So you didn’t take him?”

“I did not.”

“Who did?”

“A boat came in. I did not see it.”

“And whisked him off to the north.”

“That is it.”

“Well, that’s not very convenient,” said Calley. “Given we’ve come a long way.”

“You can come back with us in the morning,” said MacCuish.

“Back to where we came from?”

MacCuish nodded.

“That’s no use to us,” said Calley.

“You want to go north?” asked MacCuish.

“We want to go where our friend has gone. Unless you know some other way to find him?”
It ended there. The men did not meet each other’s eyes. MacCusk splashed drink in the glasses for a last time, then beds were made up near the fire, the visitors lay down, the lamp was extinguished.

Four, five hours later, MacCuish and his cousin got up from the floor. An unshuttered window showed the first greys of morning.

“You are staying?” asked MacCuish.

“Unless you want to take us north,” said Calley.

“No,” said MacCuish.

“Then we’re staying.”

The men left. There was the sound of the wooden latch, a moment of colder air, and half a minute afterwards the bark of the dog again, sharp and single.

The woman rose next. She slid down from the cubby where the bed was and sat lacing her boots. When she saw Medina and Calley she paused as though surprised to find them still at the house. They sat out of her way while she went about her morning chores. When MacCusk came down from the bed he stood at a distance from Calley and Medina and weighed them up. Medina, without looking at Calley, knew he would have his coat unbuttoned, knew he would be returning MacCusk’s regard with perfect steadiness.