Margaret Mallory: The Sinner

CHAPTER 4

DUNSCAITH CASTLE, ISLE OF SKYE

TWO MONTHS LATER

Alex waved to his cousin, the chieftain of the MacDonalds of Sleat, who was making his way down to the shore from Dunscaith Castle to meet him. Connor’s shoulder-length black hair blew behind him as he jumped from rock to rock.

“Have ye started to regret taking the chieftainship yet?” Alex asked, as Connor helped haul the boat up onto the beach.

“Every day,” Connor said with a dry laugh. “How do our clansmen on North Uist fare?”

“They’ve lost a good deal to the raiders, but they won’t starve,” Alex said. “The fishing is good, and the other supplies I delivered should see them through until the next harvest.”

After climbing up the hill, he and Connor crossed the narrow bridge to the castle, which was built on a rock off the headland.

“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.”

“Send one of us in your place,” Ian said. “Whoever goes can concoct an excuse why ye can’t make the long journey to Edinburgh at this time and appease the regent with vague assurances of your goodwill.”

Ian was almost as conniving as Connor.

“The man who goes will risk being held hostage by the Crown,” Alex said, “but it’s a good plan.”

“The rebels are also pressing me to choose sides,” Connor said. “There is a gathering of the rebel clans at the Maclean stronghold. If I’m not there, we could face attack by the neighboring clans who support the rebellion. The MacLeods, for one, would be happy for an excuse to try to take more of our lands.”

“Again, send one of us,” Ian said. “We must straddle the two sides for as long as we can.”

“Which brings me back to our need for alliances,” Connor said, looking directly at Alex. “Marriage alliances.”

“No,” Alex said, meeting his cousin’s gaze. “Ye will not ask that of me.”

Connor rubbed his hand over his face. He looked even more tired than Ian, and considerably less happy.

“What I propose is that Alex wed a lass whose clan is on one side of the rebellion,” Connor said, “and Duncan wed a lass whose clan is on the other side.”

Duncan gave Connor a sideways glance that could freeze a loch.

“Thought ye were safe from his schemes, did ye, Duncan?” Alex said.

“No chieftain will want me for his daughter,” Duncan said to Connor. “I’m just your former nursemaid’s son.”

“You’re the captain of my guard and as close as a brother to me,” Connor said. “You’ll make a good catch for a chieftain with daughters to marry off.”