Page 108 of The Guardian
Tait climbed into the boat to help him with Connor. As they half-carried Connor between them, Ian looked over his shoulder to see Sìleas helping Alex.
“By now, everyone will be outside in the yard for the bonfire,” Tait said.
Ian looked up the long flight of steps, lit by torches that lined the walls on either side. Unfortunately, they would have to go up through the keep to get to the bailey yard. All that was on the dank sea level of the castle was the dungeon—a place Ian hoped they wouldn’t see the inside of tonight.
Alex went first, managing well enough on his own. Duncan was next, dragging his leg, with Sìleas hovering beside him.
“I think I can go up myself,” Connor said in a tight voice, but a groan escaped him as Ian and Tait helped him up the first step.
“Save your strength,” Ian said. “You’ll be needing it soon.”
“Word is that Hugh has his men watching for ye, Ian,” Tait said, as they inched their way up the steps behind the others.
It was taking an eternity to get the men up the damned stairs.
“He’s heard that some of the men intend to put your name forward to be chieftain, now that they think Connor is dead—even though ye aren’t of the chieftain’s blood,” Tait said.
“Why do ye suppose I went to such trouble to get Connor here tonight?” Ian joked.
Connor stopped where he was and turned. “Maybe ye should take it, Ian. I’m in no shape to lead the clan.”
“No, ye will not be giving me the miserable task of leading this stubborn rabble,” Ian said, pulling Connor up the next step. “You’re the right man for it. The only one.”
The Samhain bonfire raged in the middle of the castle’s bailey yard, just as it had every year of Sìleas’s life. It seemed odd, when so much else had changed.
No one gave them a second look as they merged into the shadows at the back of the circle gathered around the fire. Many in the crowd wore garish costumes or carried lanterns made of hollowed-out turnips with carved faces to ward off evil spirits.
A few women were throwing bones or roasting nuts to divine whom they would marry, for Samhain was a time for divination. Many a lass told her young man aye or nay following Samhain, depending on what the signs revealed this night.
The children were enjoying themselves as they usually did, but Sìleas sensed the tension behind the adults’ revelry. Hugh had made it known he would call on every man to make a pledge of loyalty to him before the night was over.
“When we go inside for the ceremony, I want ye to find Ilysa and stand with her,” Ian said to her in a low voice. “She’ll know how to get ye out if things should turn violent.”
“I will.” She understood it would help him not to have to worry about her when the time came.
At the sound of pipes and drums, the crowd turned their attention to Hugh, who stood facing the crowd with the great fire behind him.
“Samhain is a time when we come together to celebrate the final harvest of the year and remember our dead,” Hugh said, holding his arms out.
“I am grateful for the long stories that so many of you have shared in remembrance of my dear, departed brother,” he said, emphasizing thelongand themany, with a glance toward a group of older men that included Ian’s father. “But Samhain is also when we mark the beginning of our New Year. And on this Samhain, we also celebrate the beginning of a new era for the MacDonalds of Sleat.”
Sìleas tapped her foot. Hugh was in fine form tonight.
“I’ve laid a place at the head table for my dead brother and my nephew Ragnall, as is our tradition, so their spirits can join us for this special Samhain night.”
Sìleas thought calling on the memory of their former chieftain was bold on Hugh’s part, for most members of the clan knew Hugh had resented his brother from the day he was born. Still, blood ties were respected in the Highlands.
Hugh put his hand over his heart. “I know my brother would be pleased to see me take his place as chieftain.”
Alex and Duncan both made choking noises. Hugh glared in their direction, but they were safe from discovery here in the shadows.
“It is time now for all of us to set aside our sorrow, hard as it may be,” Hugh said, “and to swear fealty to your new chieftain.”
“Does he think he can avoid taking a vote altogether?” she whispered to Ian.
“Aye, but the men don’t like it.”
From the low grumbling around them, it was clear Ian was right.
