Page 12 of The Sinner
“Ian and Duncan are here as well,” Connor said. “We have clan business to discuss.”
Inside, the hall had clean rushes, and the servants were sober. This was a far cry from the condition the castle had been in when they took it from Connor’s uncle Hugh. The cleanliness and order were the work of Duncan’s sister, Ilysa. Though they weren’t actually related, Ilysa was the closest thing Connor had to a female relative to perform the castle duties in place of a wife.
Their cousin Ian, who looked so much like Connor they could pass as brothers, was sitting at the chieftain’s high table with Duncan.
“Ian, ye look like shite,” Alex greeted him.
Ian grinned. “The twins are keeping Sìleas and me up most nights. They’re getting more new teeth.”
Ach, no. The last time Alex had seen Ian’s bairns, one of them crawled up his leg, sank her teeth into his knee, and held on like a limpet.
“’Tis only the start of the trouble those pretty babes are going to cause ye,” Alex said. “Ye know that, don’t ye?”
“I do,” Ian said with a weary smile. “They are beauties, aren’t they?”
The thought of raising daughters gave Alex the shudders, but Ian’s eyes shone when he spoke of his wee, red-haired devils.
At Connor’s signal, the other men in the hall moved away to allow the four of them to speak in private. Connor had a formal council of senior clansmen, as was expected, but everyone knew that Ian, Alex, and Duncan were his closest advisers.
“We need to forge strong alliances to survive these troubled times,” Connor said, taking the seat across the table from Alex. “Our clan is still weak after losing my father and so many other men at the Battle of Flodden.”
The four of them had been in France when they received the news of the Scots’ disastrous loss to Henry VIII’s forces at Flodden. They had returned home to find their king and their chieftain among the dead and their clan in a dire state.
“We succeeded in throwing Hugh out of the chieftain’s castle,” Alex said.
He did not mention that Connor’s uncle was still a source of dissention within the clan. Some of their clansmen mistook Hugh’s brutality for strength and, if given the chance, would support him as chieftain.
“We have much to do yet,” Connor said, his voice hard. “We cannot rest until we have control over all of the lands that rightfully belong to our clan.”
“Aye!” Duncan said, and they all raised their cups.
They had secured their base here on the Isle of Skye, with Connor holding Dunscaith Castle on one side of the Sleat Peninsula and Ian holding Knock Castle on the other. It pained them all, however, that the MacLeods had stolen the Trotternish Peninsula while the four of them were still in France. And now, Hugh and his pirates were ravaging their lands on the island of North Uist.
“We don’t yet have the strength to fight the MacLeods for the rest of our lands here on Skye,” Ian said. “That will be a bloody battle when it comes.”
“Our first task should be to protect our kin on North Uist,” Alex said. “Our clansmen there live at the mercy of these pirates.” Seeing how his kinsmen were preyed upon had eaten a hole in his stomach.
“I agree,” Connor said. “Before the fall harvest, I want one of ye to rebuild our castle on North Uist and remain there to protect our clansmen.”
“It’s high time we took on your marauding uncles.” Alex had a burning desire to strangle Hugh with his bare hands for taking food out of the mouths of his own kinsmen. “Give me a few warriors, and I’ll set sail in the morning.”
“If it weren’t for this damned rebellion, I’d send ye now,” Connor said, shaking his head. “Unfortunately, we have other business that can’t wait.”
“What’s happened?” Duncan asked.
“The new regent has summoned me to court in Edinburgh,” Connor said.
When the Scottish king was killed at Flodden, he left a babe as his heir, and the court factions had been fighting for control ever since. The king’s widow, who was also the sister of the hated Henry VIII, was regent for a time. But when the queen remarried, the Council had called John Stewart, the Duke of Albany, from France to take her place.
“Albany wants to see the new chieftain of the MacDonalds of Sleat bend his knee and swear allegiance to the Crown,” Ian said.
“Ach, no, ye can’t go,” Duncan said. “Ye know how many times a Highland chieftain has obeyed a summons to court and ended up dead or imprisoned.”
“We can’t risk losing ye,” Ian said.
They were not just speaking out of affection for Connor. By tradition, their chieftain must be a man who had the chieftain’s family blood in his veins. Ian and Alex were related to Connor through their mothers so they couldn’t replace him—praise God. The only men still alive who could be chieftain besides Connor were his half uncles, and their clan would not survive under the leadership of one of them.
“Aye, but if I don’t go, Albany will believe I’ve joined the rebellion.” Connor heaved a deep sigh. “’Tis getting harder and harder to stay out of this fight between the rebel clans and the Crown, though I see no gain for our clan either way.”
