“We’ll have our feast as soon as the oaths are taken,” Hugh said. “To the hall!”
“Move about among the men and be ready,” Ian said to Tait. Then he turned to Connor and the others. “Don’t let anyone see ye until I signal.”
“Grá mo chroí,”Ian said to Sìleas, and squeezed her hand before disappearing into the crowd. Love of my heart.
Sìleas waited with the three men until most of the crowd was inside. The rumble of voices was loud in the hall as they moved inside and found a place to stand against the back wall.
She leaned forward to look at the three of them. They appeared to be an odd but unremarkable, drunken threesome—two men in Samhain masks and an enormous woman in a large bonnet—leaning against the wall and holding on to each other for support.
Connor lifted his mask and leaned over to speak in her ear. “Ye shouldn’t be near us now, when things are coming to a head.”
His voice sounded stronger than before, and he was staying upright. That much was good. She squeezed his arm and went to join Ilysa and Beitris, who were standing with the other women.
She had a good view of Hugh, who sat in the chieftain’s chair on a raised platform at one end of the hall. She didn’t know the rough-looking men who stood on either side of him, but assumed they were companions from his pirating days. They glared at the crowd, looking as if they were eager to force the oath from any man who didn’t give it freely.
“Who wants the honor of being first?” Hugh called out.
The hall grew quiet as everyone waited to see who would be the first to come forward. There was an audible intake of breath from the crowd as Ian stepped into the space that had been left in front of Hugh and the guards flanking him.
“Well, ye have more sense than I gave ye credit for, Ian Aluinn,” Hugh said, using the nickname the women had given Ian years ago in an attempt to ridicule him. “I thought my men would have to ‘persuade’ ye to do what ye must.”
Instead of bending his knee to take his oath, Ian turned to face the crowd. There was fire in his eyes, and he stood with his legs apart as if he was ready to fight half a dozen men at once—which he probably was. Ach, her husband was breathtaking.
“It is our tradition to allow men to speak before the selection of a new chieftain,” Ian said in a voice that reached every corner of the hall. “I intend to speak.”
A loud murmur of agreement rose from the crowd.
Hugh drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair, as if he were itching to give the order to cut Ian down. But Hugh was no fool. It was clear from the reaction to Ian’s statement that the clan expected him to follow the traditions, even if they believed the outcome was certain.
“Speak if ye must,” Hugh said with an impatient wave of his hand. “But as I am the only man here of chieftain’s blood, I see little point in it.”
Ian turned to look over his shoulder at Hugh. “Can ye be so sure my uncle did not leave another son or two that ye don’t know about?”
There were barks of male laughter around the room, for everyone knew their chieftain, like his father before him, had bedded countless women over the years.
“But no, I’ve not disrupted the evening to tell ye about a new claimant to the chieftainship.” Ian raised his fist in the air. “I’ve here to tell ye I’ve taken Knock Castle back from the MacKinnons!”
The hall erupted as men waved their claymores, and the crowd roared their approval. Hugh stood and raised his hands for quiet, but it was some time before he could be heard.
After the cheering died down, Hugh said, “Just saying ye took the castle doesn’t make it so.”
Sìleas was startled to see Gòrdan emerge from the crowd to stand beside Ian at the front. His clothes were streaked with soot, and he looked as if he had ridden hard to get here.
“Most of ye know I’ve had my differences with Ian,” Gòrdan said. “So ye can trust my word when I say he did take Knock Castle yesterday.”
A few men shouted, but Gòrdan put his hand up to signal he wasn’t finished. “Shaggy Maclean is plying the waters nearby, so I hope some of ye will join me at Knock Castle in the morning. We don’t want to lose it to the Macleans after we’ve just taken it back from the MacKinnons.”
The hall again was filled with whoops and swords raised high. His speech done, Gòrdan gave a stiff nod and moved back into the crowd.
“This is a proud day, indeed, for the MacDonalds of Sleat.” Hugh spoke as if he were responsible for the victory, though everyone knew he had stood by while the MacKinnons held Knock Castle.
All eyes, however, were on Ian, who had won the crowd’s goodwill. He walked the few feet to the high table, where the two places had been set for the dead.
“Before we choose a new chieftain,” Ian said, in a slow deliberate voice, “we must settle the matter of the death of our last chieftain—and of his son, Ragnall.”
A chill went through the room at his mention of the dead, for the veil was thin between the dead and the living on Samhain. Sìleas could almost see the chieftain and Ragnall—big, muscular, fair-haired men with grim faces—standing on either side of Ian.
“Those of us who were at Flodden know what happened,” Hugh said, his hard, gray eyes sweeping the crowd. “While Ian here was drinking fine wines and dallying with the ladies in France, we were being slaughtered by the English!”