quantity in which the possible admission of failure cast the biggest shadow. As they walked up the street, two souls a world apart, Fin wished he could just raise a hand and call a halt. And start all over again. From the beginning. From that first day at school when the little girl with the pigtails and blue ribbons had smiled at him and told the teacher that she would translate for the boy who could only speak Gaelic.
It was just days now since they had put Whistler in the ground. By some miracle, Kenny John had survived the boat hook, most of its length absorbed by his life jacket. But he still lay gravely ill in a hospital bed. Of the three of them who had gone out that day so many years before to the monument at Holm Point, and discovered a common history in the
And Fin wondered how such a loss of innocence and life was possible.
Amran, once Solas, the band which had provided the musical accompaniment to his teenage years, was riven by infighting and legal action, falling apart in the full glare of international publicity. The papers and TV news bulletins had been filled for days with the story of Roddy faking his own death, and being still alive seventeen years on. Extradition from Spain was being sought on possible murder charges. It was only a matter of time before a European warrant was issued for his arrest.
And now it was Donald’s turn to face his moment of truth. Marsaili had come, not to keep Fin company, but to offer moral support to Donald and give evidence on his behalf. He was, after all, the boy who had taken her virginity when they were still teenagers. And Fin could only remember now how relieved he had been that it wasn’t Artair.
The rows of seats laid out behind them in the hall were all filled. Fin, George Gunn, Donald’s accusers and other witnesses sat along the front row behind tables that accommodated lawyers for the Church on the left, and the solitary figure of Donald Murray on the right.
Facing the assembled were the twelve members of the Judicial Committee, seated at a long table, like Jesus and the disciples at the last supper. Only these men wore dark suits and suitably sombre faces, come to pass judgment on one of their own, a task that clearly weighed heavy upon their shoulders. At least half of them were fellow ministers. The atmosphere was tense, the sense of expectation electric. The chairman banged his gavel to elicit silence in the hall, and a clerk, who was also in charge of recording proceedings, rose to read out the libel. He was a small man, almost completely bald, and Fin found himself transfixed by the shiny wet purple of his lips. He barely listened to the accusation that, as dusk fell over the island of Eriskay on a spring evening earlier that year, the Reverend Donald Murray had taken the life of another man by firing a single barrel of his shotgun into the man’s chest. Which was in clear and unequivocal contravention of the sixth commandment given by God to Moses on Mount Sinai. Thou Shalt Not Kill. A commandment enshrined in the laws of the Church.
The chairman swivelled his head towards Donald. He was an older man, very possibly in his sixties, with abundant steel-grey hair brushed back from his forehead in crimps and waves. He had lugubrious, watery-brown eyes that seemed to convey, if not sympathy, then neutrality. ‘You are entitled to make an opening statement in your defence, Reverend Murray.’
Donald rose to his feet. He wore a light-grey suit over his black cotton shirt and white clerical collar, and placed the fingertips of both hands on the desk in front of him, as if requiring to steady himself. The colour of his skin was the same as his suit, and like putty in tone and texture. His hair had lost its sandy sheen. Most of those in the hall heard his voice ring out clear and strong. But Fin knew him better than most and detected the tremor in it. ‘I have nothing to say in my defence, sir. The facts are known and speak for themselves. You will arrive at whatever decision you reach here today on the basis of the evidence that is presented to you. And I will accept without question that decision. But I will not be judged except by the Lord my God.’
‘And judged by the Lord you will be, Reverend Murray, as we all will. And that shall be between you and Him. We are here today to determine whether or not you have broken His laws and by doing so brought His Church into disrepute. And that, I can assure you, is a judgment we fully intend to make.’
The hearing took place over two days. Much of the evidence presented on the first day involved statements from the elders who had brought the initial libel against their minister. A string of grey men, resolute in their unforgiving faith, arguing the sanctity of the Ten Commandments, and Donald’s unworthiness to lead their congregation. Long legal and doctrinaire arguments that sapped the energy of all present.
It wasn’t until the second day that the facts of the case came under scrutiny. The most important witness in that context was Detective Sergeant George Gunn. Fin watched as he walked to the front of the hall and took his place behind the table reserved for witnesses. In a long career in the force he would have given evidence at countless trials on the island, and on the mainland. He was an experienced police officer. But Fin had never seen him so nervous. The clerk addressed him directly.
‘State your name for the record, please.’
‘George William Gunn.’
‘Do you give a solemn assurance that you will speak the truth, that you have no malicious motive in giving evidence here today, and are not knowingly biased in any way?’
‘I do.’
The chairman nodded towards counsel for the Church, a retired advocate from Edinburgh. ‘Mr Kelso?’
Kelso stood up from behind his desk at the front of the hall. He was a small, round man in a dark suit, with the last remnants of dyed black hair dragged across a square, flat head. Fin could picture him with his wig and gown in the Edinburgh courts arguing his case with all the confidence that more than thirty years of legal experience instils. But today he had none of the accoutrements of his former profession to hide behind, and the Bible was not an Act of Parliament with an arguably definitive interpretation. It was a loose collection of stories and anecdotes which had spawned any number of religious sects, each drawing its own inferences and applying its own constructions.
‘You are a Detective Sergeant in the Criminal Investigation Department of the Stornoway police, is that correct?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘You were called to the scene of a shooting on the island of Eriskay in the spring of this year.’
‘I was.’
‘Which is some hours away from Stornoway by road. How did you get there?’
‘I enlisted the help of the coastguard, sir, and myself and several uniformed officers were flown down by helicopter to assist the local police.’
‘And when you got there what did you find?’
‘A man was lying dead on the floor in the living room of the house. He had been shot in the chest. A second man had been detained by citizens present in the house, and later arrested by police officers from South Uist.’
‘I understand, Detective Sergeant, that you took statements from everyone present, some of whom are unable or unwilling to be here today. On the basis of those statements, I would ask you to present the Judicial Committee with as clear a picture as you can of the events which led up to the shooting.’
Gunn took a deep breath. ‘The situation arose from what appears to have been a case of revenge, sir, for an act or acts which may or may not have taken place more than fifty years ago. We are unable to verify that. What is clear is that a well-known gang leader from the city of Edinburgh arrived on the Isle of Lewis earlier that day, with a colleague, intent on doing harm to a Niseach called Tormod Macdonald. A Niseach. . that’s someone from Ness, sir.’
Kelso nodded.
‘Mr Macdonald is an elderly man suffering from an advanced form of senile dementia. His family had taken him to the home of an old friend in Eriskay that morning. On discovering that Mr Macdonald was not at home, the gentlemen from Edinburgh kidnapped Mr Macdonald’s great-granddaughter and her mother, and took them to Eriskay, where they intended to shoot them in front of Mr Macdonald.’
‘With all due respect, Detective Sergeant, I don’t believe you can speak for the intent of the deceased. I would be obliged if you would stick to the facts as you know them.’
Fin saw Gunn bristling. ‘With equally due respect, Mr Kelso, the shooting of Mr Macdonald’s great- granddaughter and her mother was the stated intent of the deceased, an intention declared in the presence of several witnesses from whom I took statements. And those are the facts as I know them.’
If Kelso was surprised by Gunn’s rejoinder he gave no indication of it. But being on the wrong end of a
