Part 34 (1/2)

Sileas was startled to see Grdan 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,” Grdan said. ”So ye can trust my word when I say he did take Knock Castle yesterday.”

A few men shouted, but Grdan put his hand up to signal he wasn't finished. ”s.h.a.ggy 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, Grdan 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. Sileas 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 Englis.h.!.+”

Ian waited for the murmur that followed to grow quiet. Then, in a voice choked with rage, he said, ”Our chieftain and his son were not slaughtered by the English.”

The blood drained from Hugh's face, and he stared at Ian openmouthed, before he caught himself and snapped his mouth shut. The crowd was stunned into silence.

Ian stretched out his arm, pointing at Hugh, and shouted in a voice that reverberated through the hall. ”I accuse you, Hugh Dubh MacDonald, of murdering our chieftain and his son at Flodden!”

The crowd was in an uproar.

Hugh tried to speak several times before he could be heard. ”I fought at Flodden,” he said, clenching his fists and fixing murderous eyes on Ian. ”How dare ye accuse me of the vilest crime, when I sank in Scots' blood to my ankles, fighting, while you deserted the clan in our hour of need.”

Hugh turned and shouted to his guard, ”Seize him!”

Sileas gasped and started forward, but Beitris and Ilysa held her.

Then Tait's voice came from the other side of the hall. ”Let's hear what Ian has to say!”

Several others followed, shouting, ”Aye! Let him speak! Let him speak!”

Hugh put his hand up as if to stop his guards, though they had been slow to follow his order.

” 'Tis easy to make accusations,” Hugh said to Ian, ”with nothing to back them up.”

”But I do have proof.” Ian paused, giving everyone time to take in his words, before he said, ”I ask my father, Payton MacDonald, to come forward.”

Sileas squeezed Beitris's and Ilysa's hands as Payton made his way to the front of the room. Despite his limp and his graying hair, he was still a formidable man with powerful shoulders and battle scars on his face and hands. Her heart burst with pride to see father and son, fine and honorable men, standing together before their clan.

”Da,” Ian said, ”can ye tell us which of our clansman fought near ye in the battle.”

”I fought on our chieftain's left and Ragnall fought on his right, just as we always did,” his father said. ”We were in the front-again, same as always.”

There was a rumble of agreement among the men, for they knew the three always fought like that.

”And who was behind ye?” Ian asked.

”This time, it was Hugh Dubh and a few of his men.”

Payton's answer caused a murmuring in the crowd, though Hugh's being behind the men who were killed proved nothing in itself.

”Can ye tell us how the chieftain and Ragnall were killed?”

Payton shook his head. ”I didn't see who struck the blows, but they came from behind us. I've puzzled on that ever since.”

The hall was so quiet that Sileas could hear her own breathing.

”The English came at us hard, and we were fighting for our lives,” Payton said. ”All the same, I don't know how English soldiers could have gotten behind us without us knowing it.”

Ian shrugged his shoulders. ”In the heat of battle, ye can't always see.”

”But the three of us were used to fighting together. We watched each other's backs. I can understand one of us not seeing an English soldier slip behind us-but none of us?” Payton shook his head. ”No, that doesn't seem possible.”

Several men grunted in agreement, for the three men had been known as remarkable fighters who had survived many a battle when others had not.

”The three of us were struck at almost the same moment,” Payton said. ”I saw our chieftain fall forward at the same time that I heard Ragnall cry out. Before I could reach either of them, I took a blow to the back of my head.”

”In the back, from behind,” Ian repeated. ”Do ye know who struck ye, da?”

Payton shook his head. ”I woke up a fortnight later in bed with no leg.”

”This is proof?” Hugh interrupted, lifting his arms. ” 'Tis a shame that my brother and Ragnall were lost at Flodden, but you're wasting our time dwelling on the past.”

Ian pointed to three older men in the front. ”Would ye say ye have fought against the English and other Highlanders often enough to know the difference in their weapons?”

”Don't be a d.a.m.ned fool,” one of them said. ”Of course we can.”

”Then can ye tell us what weapon made the scar on the back of my da's head?”

Payton took off his cap and turned around. His head had been shaved around a five-inch wound.

”Lucky he caught ye with just the tip of his sword, or you'd be a dead man,” one of them said. ”Your moving to reach the chieftain and Ragnall as the blow fell is probably what saved ye.”

”Can ye tell what kind of sword it was?” Ian asked.

”This was made by a claymore, not an English blade,” the man said, and the other two nodded. ”Ye see how thick the cut is? Aye, that was done by a claymore.”

The noise in the hall was deafening until Ian raised his hands for silence.

”We have plenty of enemies among the clans, and most of them were there that day,” Hugh said. ”Our chieftain was my brother, and Ragnall, my nephew. I'd never raise my hand against my own blood.”

”Is Connor not your own blood?” Ian said, stepping toward Hugh with his hands clenched into fists. ”Why don't ye tell our clansmen what ye did to Connor?”