The Libertine by Saskia Walker

to the usher by the door, who opened it.
    Tamhas craned his neck to see. A gentleman entered. He stated
that he owned a printing press associated with the university. Somewhat nervous,
the gentleman explained that the press was well established under the
university’s protection, and their wish for the future was to become more
involved in town matters.
    Tamhas found the gentleman’s account of how the printing press
might be expanded quite tedious, for it was not an area of interest to him. The
council voted and all present accepted the gentleman to represent his guild.
    The printer took up a seat at the table.
    The following discussion was quite long-winded, and Tamhas was
surprised to see that a second application had been put forward and was being
heard that day. His interest lifted, for he had not seen anything of personal
interest or gain in the previous gentleman. On MacDougal’s word the usher again
went to the door.
    Tamhas, together with most of the gathering, turned to see who
had arrived. The man stepped swiftly into the chambers and bowed his head toward
the head of the council.
    Tamhas frowned heavily. It was Lennox Fingal. What in God’s
name was that heathendoing here?
    Surprisingly, MacDougal seemed pleased to see the interloper.
“Master Fingal, welcome.” He turned to address the assembled men. “Master Fingal
is here today to present the case for his wainwrights to be recognized as the
official cart and carriage makers of Saint Andrews.”
    Tamhas’s blood boiled. He was so outraged at the idea of Lennox
Fingal joining the town council that he scarcely heard a word the man said about
his trade and his craftsmen. Fingal was a dubious character at best. There were
rumors that he indulged in all manner of heathen acts up at that house in the
woods, and his reputation as a shameless libertine amongst the women of the town
was well-founded. That was the least of it as far as Tamhas Keavey was
concerned. Witchcraft was at the heart of it all, he was sure of it.
    When the time came to vote, Tamhas voted against, as did one
other. When pressed for the reason, the other man stated that the wainwright
trade had not been long in Saint Andrews and was not well enough known, despite
the quality of their wares. He suggested that Master Fingal present himself
again the following year.
    When Tamhas was asked for his opinion, he urged himself to be
cautious. He could see the querying look in Master MacDougal’s eyes. Fingal
stared at him openly, one corner of his mouth lifted. Was he doing favors for
the leader of the council in order to receive a good response to his
application?
    Drumming his fingers on the table he proceeded with caution. “I
am concerned because Master Fingal’s origins are not known to us. In addition,
many of us in the burgh are wary of those who are not churchgoers.” Those who are detestable slaves of the Devil
instead.
    MacDougal frowned. “A compromise can be reached, I am sure.” He
thought on it awhile then addressed Lennox Fingal. “We will offer you a seat on
the council, not as a guildsman but as a town member.”
    Tamhas clenched his jaw lest he shout out in rage. The
compromise meant Lennox Fingal would have less say in matters of commerce, but
if he got his foot in the door there might be no stopping him.
    MacDougal proceeded. “Assuming your comments are well received
and of benefit to Saint Andrews, we will once again consider the application for
your guild to be officially recognized. Once accepted, each guild is given a
tenure of one year as a trial. If your craftsmen become an established part of
the burgh in that time and you have contributed well to the council, that
arrangement will be made permanent.”
    Fingal bowed. “I am most grateful for the opportunity to prove
our worth.”
    Tamhas rose to his feet, pushing his chair back noisily. He
exited the chamber without further comment, his fury building. It was shameful.
Depositing his formal cloak in the adjacent