Highlander’s Broken Love by Fiona Faris

Chapter Ten

Ian hurried across to the camp where there was an evident commotion. Beyond the center where the greatest tent in the encampment lay, there was a long wooden table set up outside. Men were gathered around it. From its position with a tall chair at the head of the table, Ian suspected this was where Laird Grier held his council.

“Ian,” Bhaltair turned away from the group that were trying to watch. “This is mad.”

“What is?” Ian asked, coming to a stop by his old friend.

“They have received a message from the lass’ faither. He’s refusin’ to pay a ransom for her.” Bhaltair’s words left Ian cold. The idea that any father would leave their daughter, especially one as delicate as Elisabeth, to the mercy of such men as Grier and Jockie was sickening. “We have to do somethin’,” Bhaltair muttered with evident anger. “If she hasnae purpose, they’ll kill her.”

The words made Ian physically recoil. Delicate Elisabeth could not die at their hands.

I willnae let that happen.

“Leave it to me,” Ian strode forward, past Bhaltair, with Alex at his shoulder as he moved through the crowd and toward the table. As he pushed in between men, shouldering some out of the way to take up a position, Laird Grier turned his head toward him from the place at the head of the table.

“What are ye doin’ here?” he asked. “Ye are nae welcome to discuss clan business.”

“Why nae?” Ian said harshly. “I’m a man who is part of the clan, same as the two men standin’ either side of me.”

“Because ye havenae yet had yer trial,” Grier struck the table with his hand, but Ian didn’t flinch. He was not afraid of Grier.

“I daenae care,” Ian said, placing his hands down and leaning forward across the table. “If any man standin’ here doesnae think I belong, then they can carry me away. So? Would any man like to try that?” He challenged them all, looking from one face to another. Not one accepted his challenge, not even Jockie, who was standing beside his father, his eyes on the table. “I thought nae.”

Ian faced forward again, just as others pushed through the crowd. To his surprise, Bhaltair and Gilroy placed themselves at the table on one side of him. On the other, stood Alex, clapping a hand on his shoulder in support.

“What is the news?” Ian asked, gesturing down to the parchment in front of Grier on the table.

“We’ve had a reply from –” Jockie began but Grier held up his hand sharply, cutting off his son, as if fearful of Ian finding out the name. He frowned slightly, watching the dynamic between father and son.

“From Elisabeth’s faither,” Grier finished the words. “In response to our ransom demand for her safe return.”

“From yer son’s actions, I thought ye never intended to keep her safe,” he emphasized the word and crossed his arms, staring Jockie down. His cousin shifted under his glare, but he didn’t argue. He just stayed silent.

“What me son does with our prisoners is our responsibility. Nae yers,” Grier snapped.

“I’ll give ye an argument on that some time,” Ian said strongly, though he knew it was not the matter at hand right now. “What did the letter say?”

“He’s refusin’ to pay,” Grier snatched up the parchment from the table and folded it tightly, clearly not intending to allow Ian to read it for himself. “He threatens to come and take her back instead.”

“Are ye serious?” Ian looked around the camp and the danger they were in. “Ye would bring a fully equipped English army against a clan that nay longer has the protection of buildin’s? Let alone a full army of their own?”

“We have enough men to fight off an attack,” Grier said, dismissing the idea with a wave of his hand.

“Then ye’re a fool if ye truly think so,” Ian said, his words sharp.

“Did ye dare just insult yer Laird?” Grier’s eyes flashed in his direction. For a minute, Ian was too aware of the contrast between his uncle as Laird compared to his father that he didn’t answer. He was just too disgusted. His father had been a kind leader who put the safety of the clan above anything else. Grier didn’t seem to care.

“I’ll happily insult ye again if ye continue like this,” Ian held his ground and straightened his spine. “Ye took the daughter of some English General just to have money? What for?”

“We can use the money to rebuild,” Grier said, gesturing to the camp.

“Ye daenae need such money for that. If ye wanted to rebuild, ye could have used the land and resources around ye. Nay, I daenae believe ye,” Ian shook his head. “It was greed, wasnae it? Ye just wanted to take money off an Englishman.”

“That is enough from ye!” Grier snapped the words and stood to his feet, bristling and looking so irritated that his nostrils flared with every breath he took.

“Nay, ye’ll hear more,” Ian was not going to back down. “By keepin’ Elisabeth here, ye risk the lives of the entire clan. If an English General brings a full army to take back his daughter, he will take no prisoners. He will only take revenge.” At these words, he saw the ripple in the men around them. Many of them were unsettled by the idea.

“He would be an animal to do so,” Jockie scoffed.

“Ye may have nay children, Jockie,” Alex spoke up, “but believe me, any man here who does will ken what lengths a faither would go to in order to get his child back.” He looked around the crowd, and many men nodded. “It would surprise nay faither here if this General were to do so.”

“The safest thing ye can do for this clan is to release Elisabeth and send her home,” Ian said boldly, adding to the argument Alex had begun. “Ye would surely nae condemn yer clan to death just for the sake of a few coins, Laird Grier?” He was tempted to drop the title Laird, for Grier did not deserve the respect, but he knew it would only make his uncle grow angry.

“Ye daenae get a say in the matter, as I have already said,” Grier snapped. “She is me prisoner, nae yers, and I will decide what to do with her.”

“What will ye do with her then?” Ian asked, waiting to see what Grier would say next. For a second, he said nothing. He stared back at him, deep in thought.

“I will talk with me son in private, and we will decide what to do. The council can await our decision. Ye,” he pointed straight at Ian, “can leave.”

“Nay, I’ll wait too,” Ian mirrored the man’s stare just as Grier took his son’s shoulder and dragged him to his feet. At once, the two of them hurried off into the large tent.

As the men around Ian relaxed into conversation, he kept his eyes fixed on the tent, wishing he could listen in on the conversation between his uncle and cousin. He didn’t doubt Grier’s decision to hide the name of Elisabeth’s father was an attempt to hold onto power. If it was some English General of influence, then Grier probably feared he would try to use her in part of a coup to take control.

“This is mad,” Bhaltair said at Ian’s side, shaking his head. “The decision that is about to be made could destroy this clan forever.”

“We’ll all be dead within a week the way this is goin’,” Gilroy ruffled his hair with his hands.

“We cannae let it come to that,” Ian said with feeling, watching as Bhaltair and Gilroy looked back at him.

“How do we intend to stop it then?” Bhaltair asked, his hands out wide. “Ye’ve seen what Laird Grier is like, Ian. As long as he is laird, he is goin’ ahead with this plan. As ye say, he’ll bring the wrath of the English on us all.”

“Why has Elisabeth’s faither nae come for her yet?” Alex asked, his voice firm. “It doesnae make sense.”

“I reckon it’s because he doesnae ken where to look,” Gilroy said quietly. “The English thought our clan was driven out of these lands. They wouldnae expect to look for us here.”

“Then if they come to fight, we must meet them and defend the clan,” Alex said with the strength and willfulness Ian had seem him capable of time and time again.

“How?” Bhaltair said, gesturing to the people behind. “What soldiers are here are withered from havin’ survived on so little for so long. We arenae a strong enough force.”

“Aye, ye’re right,” Ian was reluctant to admit it, but it was true. “If we were to face a fight in the next few days, we would surely lose.”

“Then we have to do somethin’,” Alex clapped Ian on the shoulder again. “As long as Laird Grier is callin’ the shots, then Elisabeth stayin’ here puts all of yer people in danger.”

“I ken,” Ian understood exactly what Alex was trying to say with encouragement and yet a clear warning in his eyes, as well.

“I thought ye were dead the last couple of years, Ian,” he said quietly, so only Ian could hear him. “Now I ken ye’re alive, I daenae wish to see ye die so quickly all because of yer uncle’s foolishness.”

Ian nodded in thought. Something would have to be done to stop this plan of Grier’s.

As they fell into silence, Ian started to listen into other conversations nearby. Toward the head of the table, where Grier had been, Hal stood in deep conversation with two other men. They were all clearly in support of keeping Elisabeth, arguing the Sassenach deserved whatever was coming to her.

Another group beside Ian seemed to have different feelings.

“If it was me daughter,” an older man said with despair and shook his head, “I just couldnae bear the thought of it. She is bein’ treated like an animal.”

“There is nae a thing we can do, Ualan,” a man similar in facial features, possibly his brother, said at his side. “If it is Laird Grier’s order, then we have to abide by it.”

“Torquil, I daenae have to like it,” Ualan snapped. “Do ye?”

“Of course, nae,” Torquil shook his head. “I keep wonderin’ what if it were Seona in that cage instead of her? The thought is too horrific. I think Seona has even been sneakin’ out to give the woman water.”

“If she is caught –”

“I ken, I ken,” the man said, shaking his head strongly.

Ian couldn’t listen to the conversation anymore without speaking.

“Do ye just do what Laird Grier tells ye to because he orders it?” he asked the men, speaking loudly. The two brothers turned to him, with eyes wide from surprise at the interruption.

“He is our laird,” Ualan said again. “What choice do we have?”

“What if there was another laird to follow?” Bhaltair said from Ian’s side, making him snap his head in that direction.

“Then that would be somethin’ worth fightin’ for,” Torquil said, placing a hand on the sword in his belt for emphasis.

Ian felt eyes on him, then Alex’s hand came up to his shoulder again, in comfort. Before they could say anything, the tent flaps were heard being opened. All eyes turned as Laird Grier and Jockie stepped out of the tent and moved back toward the head of the table.

“We have made a decision on what to do with the Sassenach,” Grier said, his voice loud and booming across those gathered to listen to him. “She stays.”

Hearing the decision made Ian drop his hands to the table, using it to hold himself up.

“Hal, organize another message to be sent to her faither,” Grier turned his eyes to Hal. “Tell him that for every day he refuses to pay, he’ll receive his daughter back to him in pieces.”

“What!?” Ian snapped his head up, stunned at the words.

“We’ll start with a finger or two,” Grier said, holding Ian’s gaze with a devilish smile. “Just when he thinks we’ll keep delivering a finger at a time, we’ll send him a hand or a foot. One piece each day until he pays. That ought to get us the money.”

“Ye monster,” Ian barked the words and made to move round the table. He’d heard enough, and he didn’t need to hear any more.

“Somethin’ wrong, Ian?” Grier asked in a voice loaded with faked innocence.

“Ye already keep that woman locked up in a cage,” he was seething now, pushing past men who made no move to stop him and moving closer to Grier. “Now ye want to start mutilatin’ her too? Ye’re an animal, nae a man! And certainly ye are nae fit to be a laird.”

“Watch yer tongue there, nephew,” Grier snapped the sword from his belt and held it aloft, pointed at Ian’s chest as he reached his side.

“Ian,” Alex’s warning tone came across form the table, clearly intent on keeping him alive. Ian didn’t care at that moment.

“Ye would do best to go back to yer tent, Ian, and wait for yer trial,” Grier said, whipping the sword through the air, making a whistling sound in emphasis. “This is none of yer business.”

“It’s none of me business the way ye are treatin’ yer own people?” Ian asked, his arms wide in amazement. “I have heard the stories of the way ye run this land. How ye prioritize food and goods for yer own family and for yer supporters. Every other person suffers. To the point that people are fleein’ to other clans and some end up dead, who kens by whose hand,” he sent a death glare to Jockie remembering the tale Alex had told him about the woman being found. “Enough pain and degradation have happened in this clan, I willnae stand by while ye mutilate and murder an innocent woman!”

“I am the chief here, Ian!” Grier snatched the sword high, as though threatening to take it down on Ian’s head. “Be careful the way ye speak to me. Now back off and hold yer tongue. Ye are nae laird.”

“Nae at the moment, maybe.” Ian felt how heavy his breath was. He looked back across the table, seeing Alex and the others watching him carefully. Even the brothers, Ualan and Torquil were staring intently.

It’s now or never.

He hadn’t wanted the lairdship; he had never thought he deserved it, but he was being backed into a corner now. If he didn’t make a challenge for it, then Elisabeth would be murdered as would most others in the clan when her father came to take revenge for her death.

There was only one way to stop the bloodshed.

He turned his head back to Grier, his decision made.

“I challenge ye for the lairdship, Grier. In battle.”