'A Deal Is Struck'

The meeting that Sam wanted with Roger Grant took place three days after the small fleet of volunteers sailed from Mohawk to Grindstone Island. The 'voyage' itself only took a few hours and they were enthusiastically welcomed by John Everston and a large group of armed Grindstoners.

Two days later however, when Roger Grant's four large sailing ships came into the crowded harbour, things became rather tense. Sam wisely defused the situation by taking himself and John Everston out in a small boat to Grant's ship and inviting Grant and his entire group to a corn roast they had prepared for everyone on the beach. Logical as ever, it had been Helen who suggested the corn roast the day before as a way to get both sides socializing together rather than fighting each other. Doc Stone had agreed, but advised that beer and water should be the only beverages available and that wine and especially 'Thousand Island Moonshine' not be on the menu!

Cautiously at first, Grant had finally agreed. As the evening festivities went on however, both he and Sam discovered that they had quite a bit in common.

"So you served in the Rangers?" Sam said, reaching over to top up the Prince of Wolf Island's glass with some of Marry Everston excellent home brewed beer.

"I served in the 'Queen's Own' for nearly fifteen years," Grant relied, the tinge of pride clear in his voice. "Would probably still be there today except for my father getting Cancer. I came home to help out with the family business."

Sam took a sip of beer. "That would be the 'Import-Export' business?"

Roger Grant grinned at that, dragging his gaze off the silent, dark-eyed beauty that sat on Sam's far side. Something about the young woman had drawn Grant like a loadstone the moment he'd laid eyes on her. There was a silent mystery about her that intrigued the Prince of Wolf Island --- a fact not lost on the equally beautiful woman sitting beside him; his 'second-in-command', the outspoken and bigger-than-life Baroness of Curotte.

"Everyone knows that the Grants of Wolf Island have been smugglers for nearly three hundred years," Roger replied with a grin. "My grandfather just started the 'Import-Export' business as a way to get around paying taxes and to look more respectable."

"A dangerous job, smuggling," Sam said cautiously.

Roger shrugged and once again dragged his gaze off the silent, dark-eyed Fiona. "Not if you stay clear of the bad shit."

"Did your father manage to stay clear of the 'bad shit'?" Sam asked.

"Most times he did," Roger replied, once again looking at the silent young woman.

"And when you took over?" Sam probed.

The Wolf Prince's gaze turned back to Sam. "When I took over I made it clear to the big boys on both side of the river, including Bad Sana, that the Grants would only handle booze, tobacco and guns. Maybe a little weed now and then --- but nothing more!"

Sam frowned. "I've heard that name 'Bad Santa' a few times. Who is he?"

"A mean sonovabitch that runs most the 'nasty trade' in Ontario's 'Golden Triangle' --- Toronto, Kingston, Ottawa.

"And just what do you mean by the 'nasty trade''?"Everston asked. He and his wife Mary had been sitting with Helen and Doc Stone on the far side of the fire.

Grant's answer came quickly and with some force. "Everything that I refuse to handle! Hard drugs, prostitution, child pornography, human trafficking --- nasty shit like that."

"Those kind of things doesn't happen around here!" Mary Everston said, clearly shocked from what she had heard.

It was the Baroness who responded to Mary's outrage in a rather jaded tone. "Those kind of things happens everywhere, honey. People in the country just hide it more than city folk."

"Not on Grindstone it doesn't!" Mary replied heatedly. "Not in our home!"

"No," the Baroness replied. "And not in most folk's homes --- but it does happen in some. Sadly it always has and it always will."

"Well, I think it's disgusting!" Mary all but shouted."We're all good Christian folk here in the Isles! I couldn't name a single person here that would stoop so low!"

Silence flowed in and around Mary's righteous anger --- until another woman's voice quietly spoke from the shadows. "I could. I could name a lot of them."

All eyes went to the hitherto silent Fiona as she leaned forward into the firelight, the golden flames dancing in her dark eyes. "Especially Billy-Ray Gleason and his whole damn family." And then, calmly and coldly: "I intend to kill them all!"

***

"Then it's agreed," Sam said the next morning in a voice that carried to the large crowd once again gathered on the beach where last night's 'feast' had taken place. He stretched out his hand to the younger man who took it gladly.

Prince Roger's voice, trained by years of leading men, rang out loud and clear. "It is agreed! The Grants of Wolf Island will join with the good people of Grindstone, Mohawk and any other community that wishes to support our combined effort. Together we will keep the Isles safe from all outside forces that would do us harm!"

There was a good deal of cheering at that, for the three different groups, having shared food and drink the night before, in the growing light of a new day now shared a common cause to help each other survive and flourish in the uncertain future.

Off to one side Doc Stone stood with Helen and Abner Hays. The old physician was smiling to himself and muttering the opening lines of one of his favorite plays.

'Now is the winter of our discontent

Made glorious summer by this son of York!'

"What's that, Doc?" Abe asked, his voice full of good-natured mischief. "You still a little hung over from last night?"

"Not at all, Abner. I was quoting the Bard from Stratford and thinking how all this has turned into some kind of weird, medieval festival!"

"What do you mean, Doc?" Abe frowned, clearly not following the older man's train of thought.

"Just look around you, Abner!" Doc Stone said. "What could easily have been a nasty little war has been miraculously avoided, thanks to Helen's all night beach party! Armed men that didn't like or trust one another last night are now acting like old friends; and now, the two leaders --- decorated war heroes both! --- are making a peace treaty right in front of us --- while the rest of us cheer them on!" Doc stopped and drew a deep breath. "All that's missing are jugglers and a dancing bear! I wouldn't be a bit surprised if there wasn't a swearing of oaths of 'everlasting fealty' on the hilt of a raised sword!"

While Abner tried to follow the good doctor's thoughts, Helen stepped up to his side. "You sound like you disapprove, Doc. Sam's only trying to keep us all safe."

"Oh I know that, Sweet Helen. He's clearly the best man to lead us all into a very uncertain future."

"But?" she added, waiting for the older man to continue.

He decided to tell a short story instead.

"As a boy I loved the tales of King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table. I read everything I could find on the subject. Camelot, Ivanhoe, Sir Lancelot, Guinevere were all magical names for me. Drove my parents absolutely crazy --- especially my father! Even while studying medicine I would read medieval history whenever I could. That and Shakespeare got me through med-school!"

Helen took a hold of his fine boned hand and smiled at him. "Are you trying to say that Sam reminds you of Arthur?"

"I suppose that I am."

"Would that be so bad?" she asked.

The doctor drew a long, deep breath and placed his other hand on hers. "Who can say, Sweet Helen. Who can say?"

"Well Doc, if Sam is Arthur and this is the beginning of a new Camelot, then I guess that makes you Merlin."

The older man seemed both truly surprised and pleased with Helen's point. "Now wouldn't that be something! To end my days living the dreams of my boyhood!"

Helen tried to hold her smile, wanting to share in the older man's joy --- but couldn't quite suppress the nagging doubt/worry that in the end, both Arthur and his teacher Merlin were betrayed by the people they loved the most.

***