THE DUNGEON IN DUART CASTLE
Isle of Mull
OCTOBER 1513
“Damnable vermin! The straw is alive with the wee critters.” Ian got to his feet and scratched his arms. “I hate to say it, but the Maclean hospitality is sadly lacking.”
“ ’Tis the Maclean vermin on two legs that concern me,” Duncan said. “Ye know they are upstairs debating what to do with us—and I’ve no faith they’ll chose mercy.”
Connor rubbed his temples. “After five years of fighting in France, to be taken by the Macleans the day we set foot in Scotland…”
Ian felt the humiliation as keenly as his cousin. And they were needed at home. They had left France as soon as the news reached them of the disastrous loss to the English at Flodden.
“ ’Tis time we made our escape,” Ian told the others. “I expect even the Macleans will show us the courtesy of feeding us dinner before they kill us. We must take our chance then.”
“Aye.” Connor came to stand beside him and peered through the iron grate into the darkness beyond. “As soon as the guard opens this door, we’ll—”
“Ach, there’s no need for violence, cousin,” Alex said, speaking for the first time. He lay with his long legs stretched out on the filthy straw, untroubled by what crawled there.
“And why is that?” Ian asked, giving Alex a kick with his boot.
“I’m no saying it is a bad plan,” Alex said, “just that we won’t be needing it.”
Ian crossed his arms, amused in spite of himself. “Will ye be calling on the faeries to open the door for us?”
Alex was a master storyteller and let the silence grow to be sure he had their full attention before he spoke. “When they took me up for my turn at being questioned, they got a bit rough. The chieftain’s wife happened to come in, and she insisted on seeing to my wounds.”
Connor groaned. “Alex, tell me ye didn’t…”
“Well, she stripped me bare and applied a sweet-smelling salve to every scratch from head to toe. The lady was impressed with my battle scars—and ye know how I like that in a woman,” Alex said, lifting one hand, palm up. “It was all rather excitin’ for both of us. To make a long story short—”
“Ye fooked the wife of the man who’s holding us? What is wrong with ye?” Duncan shouted. “We’d best be ready, lads, for I expect the debate on whether to kill us will be a short one.”
“Now there is gratitude, after I sacrificed my virtue to set ye free,” Alex said. “The lady’s no going to tell her husband what we done, and she swore she could get us out.”
“So when’s she going to do it?” Ian didn’t question whether the lady would come; women were always doing unlikely things for Alex.
“Tonight,” Alex said. “And it wasn’t just my pretty face, lads, that persuaded her to help us. The lady is a Campbell. Shaggy Maclean wed her to make peace between their two clans. She hates him, of course, and does her best to thwart him at every turn.”
“Ha!” Ian said, pointing his finger at Connor. “Let that be a lesson to ye, when you go choosing a wife among our enemies.”
Connor rubbed his forehead. As their chieftain’s son, he would be expected to make a marriage alliance with one of the other clans. With so many men dead after Flodden, a number of clans would be looking to negotiate such a match.
“Interesting that ye should be giving advice on wives,” Alex said, raising his eyebrows at Ian. “When it doesn’t appear ye know what to do with yours.”
“I have no wife,” Ian said with a deliberate warning in his voice. “So long as it hasn’t been consummated, it’s no a marriage.”
While in France, Ian had done his best to forget his marriage vows. But now that he was returning home to Skye, he would put an end to his false marriage.
Alex sat up. “Anyone willing to make a wager on it? My money says our lad will no escape this marriage.”
Duncan grabbed Ian before he could beat the smile off Alex’s face.
“That’s enough, Alex,” Connor said.
“Ye are a sorry lot,” Alex said, getting to his feet and stretching. “Ian, married but doesn’t believe it. Duncan, who refused to wed his true love.”
Ah, poor Duncan. Ian glared at Alex—the tale was too sad for jesting.
“And then there’s Connor,” Alex continued in his heedless way, “who must try to guess which of a dozen chieftains with unwed daughters would be the most dangerous to offend.”
“Ach, my da’s brothers will likely kill me first and save me the trouble of choosing,” Connor said.
“Not with us watching your back,” Duncan said.
Connor’s half-uncles would be pleased to have one less obstacle between them and leadership of the clan. Connor’s grandfather, the first chieftain of the MacDonalds of Sleat, had six sons by six different women. The sons had all hated each other from birth, and the ones still alive were always at each other’s throats.
“I hope when my brother is chieftain he’ll save the clan trouble by keeping to one woman,” Connor said, shaking his head.
Alex snorted. “Ragnall?”
That was a false hope if there ever was one, though Ian wouldn’t say it. Connor’s older brother was no different from his father and grandfather when it came to women.
“So who will you wed, Alex?” Duncan asked. “What Highland lass will put up with your philandering without sticking a dirk in your back?”
“None,” Alex said, the humor thin in his voice. “I’ve told ye. I’ll never marry.”
Alex’s parents had been feuding for as long as Ian could remember. Even in the Highlands, where emotions tended to run high, the violence of their animosity was renowned. Of the three sisters who were Ian’s, Alex’s, and Connor’s mothers, only Ian’s had found happiness in marriage.
At the sound of footsteps, Ian and the others reached for their belts where their dirks should have been.
“Time to leave this hellhole, lads,” Ian said in a low voice. He flattened himself against the wall by the door and nodded to the others. Plan or no, they would take the guards.
“Alexander!” A woman’s voice came out of the darkness from the other side of the iron bars, followed by the jangle of keys.
Ian drew in a deep breath of the salty air. It felt good to be sailing again. They had stolen Shaggy’s favorite galley, which went a long way toward restoring their pride. It was sleek and fast, and they were making good time in the brisk October wind. The jug of whiskey they passed kept Ian warm enough. He grew up sailing these waters. Every rock and current was as familiar to him as the mountain peaks in the distance.
Ian fixed his gaze on the darkening outline of the Isle of Skye. Despite all the trouble that awaited him there, the sight of home stirred a deep longing inside him.
And trouble there would be aplenty. They had spoken little during the long hours on the water since the Campbell woman had given them the terrible news that both their chieftain and Connor’s brother Ragnall had been killed at Flodden. It was a staggering loss to the clan.
Duncan was playing sweet, mournful tunes on the small whistle he always carried, his music reflecting both their sadness and yearning. He tucked the whistle away inside his plaid and said to Connor, “Your father was a great chieftain.”
Their chieftain had not been loved, but he was respected as a strong leader and ferocious warrior, which counted for more in the Highlands. Ian found it hard to imagine him dead.
He took a long pull from the jug. “I can’t believe we lost them both,” he said, clasping Connor’s shoulder as he passed him the whiskey. “To tell ye the truth, I didn’t think there was a man alive who could take your brother Ragnall.”
Ian knew that the loss of his brother was the harder blow for Connor. Ragnall had been fierce, hotheaded, and accepted as the successor to the chieftainship. He had also been devoted to his younger brother.
“I suspected something,” Duncan said, “for if either of them was alive Shaggy wouldn’t have risked a clan war by taking us.”
“Even with our chieftain fallen, Shaggy should expect a reprisal from our clan,” Ian said after taking another drink. “So I’m wondering why he didn’t.”
“Ian’s right,” Alex said, nodding at him. “When Shaggy said he was going to drop our lifeless bodies into the sea, he didn’t look like a worried man to me.”
“He had no extra guard posted outside the castle,” Ian said. “Something’s no right there.”
“What are ye suggesting?” Connor said.
“Ye know damn well what they’re suggesting. One of your da’s brothers is behind this,” Duncan said. “They knew we’d return as soon as news of Flodden reached us, so one of them asked Shaggy to keep an eye out for us.”
“They’re all wily, mean bastards,” Alex said. “But which of them would ye say wants the chieftainship most?”
“Hugh Dubh,” Connor said, using Hugh’s nickname, “Black Hugh,” given to him for his black heart. “Hugh never thought he got his rightful share when my grandfather died, and he’s been burning with resentment ever since. The others have made homes for themselves on the nearby islands, but not Hugh.”
“What I want to know,” Ian said, “is what Hugh promised Shaggy to make sure ye never showed your face on Skye again.”
“You’re jumping to conclusions, all of ye,” Connor said. “There’s no affection between my uncle and me, but I won’t believe he would have me murdered.”
“Hmmph,” Alex snorted. “I wouldn’t trust Hugh further than old Teàrlag could toss him.”
“I didn’t say I trusted him,” Connor said. “I wouldn’t trust any of my da’s brothers.”
“I’ll wager Hugh has already set himself up as chieftain and is living in Dunscaith Castle,” Duncan said.
Ian suspected Duncan was right. By tradition, the clan chose their leader from among the men with chieftain’s blood. With Connor’s father and brother both dead and Connor in France, that left only Connor’s uncles. If half the stories told about them were true, they were a pack of murderers, rapists, and thieves. How a man as honorable as Connor could share blood with them was a mystery. Some would say the faeries had done their mischief switching babies.
They were nearing the shore. Without needing to exchange a word, he and Duncan lowered the sail, then took up the oars with the others. They pulled together in a steady rhythm that came as naturally to Ian as breathing.
“I know you’re no ready to discuss it, Connor,” Ian said between pulls. “But sooner or later you’ll have to fight Hugh for the chieftainship.”
“You’re right,” Connor said. “I’m no ready to discuss it.”
“Ach!” Alex said. “Ye can’t mean to let that horse’s arse be our chieftain.”
“What I don’t mean to do is to cause strife within the clan,” Connor said. “After our losses at Flodden, a fight for the chieftainship would weaken us further and make us vulnerable to our enemies.”
“I agree ye need to lay low at first,” Ian said. After an absence of five years, Connor couldn’t simply walk into Dunscaith Castle and claim the chieftainship—especially if Hugh already had control of the castle. “Let the men know you’re home and see they have an alternative to Hugh. Then, when Hugh shows he puts his own interests above the clan’s—as he surely will—we’ll put ye forward as the better man to lead.”
Alex turned to Duncan, who was on the oar opposite his. “You and I are like innocent babes next to my conniving cousins.”
“All great chieftains are conniving,” Ian said with a grin. “ ’Tis a required trait.”
“Connor will need to be conniving just to stay alive,” Duncan said without a trace of humor. “Hugh has been pirating in the Western Isles for years without being caught. That means he’s clever and ruthless—and lucky as well.”
They were quiet again for a time. Connor may not be ready to admit it aloud yet, but Ian agreed with Duncan—Connor’s life was in danger on Skye.
“If you’re going to the castle, I’m going with ye,” Ian said. “Ye don’t know what awaits ye there.”
“Ye don’t know what awaits you either,” Connor said. “Ye must go home and see how your family fares.”
Ian sent up a prayer that his own father had survived the battle. He regretted that their parting had been angry—and regretted still more that he had ignored his father’s letters ordering him home. He should have fought alongside his father and clansman at Flodden. He would carry the guilt of not being there to his grave.
“And ye need to settle matters with the lass,” Connor added. “Five years is long enough to keep her waiting.”
Ian had managed to forget about the problem of Sìleas while they talked of Connor and the chieftainship—and he didn’t want to think about it now. He took another swig from the whiskey jug at his feet while they rested their oars and glided to shore. As soon as the boat scraped bottom, he and the others dropped over the side into the icy water and hauled the boat up onto the shore of Skye.
After five years gone, he was home.
“I’ll wait to go to Dunscaith Castle until I know which way the wind blows,” Connor said, as they dragged the boat above the tide line. “Duncan and I will take Shaggy’s boat to the other side of Sleat and find out the sentiment there.”
“I still think I should go with ye,” Ian said.
Connor shook his head. “We’ll send word or come find ye in two or three days. In the meantime, talk to your father. He’ll know what the men are thinking on this part of the island.”
“I know ye can’t mean to leave your best fighting man out of this,” Alex said. “Should I come with ye or go north to hear what the folks there are saying?”
“Stay with Ian,” Connor said, the white of his teeth bright in the growing darkness. “He faces the greatest danger.”
“Verra funny.” At the thought of Sìleas, he took another swig from the jug—and choked when Alex elbowed him hard in the ribs.
“You’d best give Ian a full week,” Alex said. “Ye don’t want him leaving his poor wife wanting after such a long wait.”
The others laughed for the first time since they had heard the news about Connor’s father.
Ian, however, was not amused.
“I have no wife,” he repeated.
“Sìleas’s lands are important to the clan, especially Knock Castle,” Connor said, draping an arm across Ian’s shoulders. “It protects our lands on the eastern shore. We can’t have it falling into the hands of the MacKinnons.”
“What are ye saying?” Ian asked between clenched teeth.
“Ye know verra well my father did not force ye to wed Sìleas out of concern for the girl’s virtue. He wanted Knock Castle in the hands of his nephew.”
“Ye can’t be trying to tell me to accept Sìleas as my wife.”
Connor squeezed Ian’s shoulder. “All I’m asking is that you consider the needs of the clan.”
Ian shrugged Connor’s hand off him. “I’m telling ye now, I’ll no keep this marriage.”
“Well, if ye don’t,” Connor said, “then ye must find a man we can trust to take your place.”
“Perhaps ye should wait until you’re chieftain before ye start giving orders,” Ian snapped.