Worse for Alan was the powerlessness that proved total when it came to dealing with Gilbert. Once he ascended to the high seat of the clan, no one could touch him. Questioning his actions was tantamount to betrayal. And after having watched the Mackintoshes almost tear themselves to pieces, no Cameron would risk that within their clan.
‘Well, he seems to have put off marriage for the time being,’ Alan said. ‘I suspect he will commence his efforts once The MacMillan is married and whatever pact they have agreed to is in place.’
‘What do you think is the benefit?’ his father asked. ‘They are not especially wealthy or powerful. So what will Gilbert gain by tying us to them?’
‘What would happen if our truce, our treaty, with the Mackintoshes was broken?’
His mother’s gasp did not surprise him. The deaths and destruction caused by the feuding was not so long ago that his parents did not recall the cost. She began wringing her hands and shaking her head.
‘I pray nightly that it never comes to that,’ she said. He realised then that she was not wringing her hands, but moving them as though praying. An image of Saraid doing the same thing crossed his thoughts.
‘As do I,’ his father agreed. ‘What made you even think on something like that, Alan? What have you heard?’
Instead of answering or revealing anything he might know, he asked another question of his parents.
‘Does Gilbert have the support of the Camerons? Or do they fear him?’ Taking in and letting out a deep breath, Alan asked the question that worried him the most. ‘If Gilbert breaks the treaty, will the clan follow him down that path?’
For a long minute, neither of his parents spoke a word. His mother sat back down and his father drank down his wine in two swallows before placing his cup on a table there. Crossing his arms over his chest, his father met his stare.
‘I think many will,’ he said. ‘Many will not want to, but are called by honour and clan loyalty to follow their chieftain.’
‘That is what I feared,’ Alan admitted. ‘Is he planning to do that, Father? Do you ken?’
‘I have proof of nothing,’ Robert Cameron said quietly. ‘But I think that your loyalty and mine will be tested in the coming months.’
‘My loyalty?’ Alan asked. ‘My loyalty is to the Clan Cameron as it always has been.’
‘As is mine,’ his father said.
His mother stood silently by, watching this exchange. She would be caught in the middle no matter what happened. As most women were in any conflict. As would Arabella and Eva and all those on both sides. Nodding at both of them, he knew his father would say nothing more.
What Alan wanted was an explanation of why his father had not pursued the high seat or a place on the council when Euan Cameron passed. As an able-bodied male kin of the chieftain, he was eligible. He had the skills and experience needed to lead the clan and yet he had allowed Gilbert to take it without a challenge. Others had wondered the same thing, but Robert Cameron never spoke of his reasons for his actions, or lack of actions. Even when his uncle tried to shame him and put him aside, his father said nothing.
Now, he was tanist and that chafed at Gilbert every moment he ruled without a male heir of his body. That was what drove Gilbert to marry and marry again, to relentlessly pursue a childbearing wife who would give him a son. A son would sustain his claim, would strengthen his rule and would reward him for all his actions.
‘I bid you a goodnight,’ Alan finally said. ‘Mother. Father.’
‘Alan,’ his mother began, taking a step towards him.
‘Worry not,’ he said, taking her by the shoulders and kissing each cheek. ‘I will be here in the morn and we can speak more.’
‘How long will you stay?’ his father asked.
Alan wondered if it mattered. Would staying two days get him more answers than staying a sennight? If it would, he would stay as long as need be. But, in the end, his father had already given him the knowledge he needed.
Robert Cameron would not rise against his younger brother and claim the seat that belonged to him.
‘A few days, I think.’
‘Good,’ his mother said as he lifted the latch on the door to let himself out. ‘We should speak on the matter of marriage.’
He wanted, he wished he could, to misunderstand her words, but Alan understood she spoke of his marriage now and not his uncle’s. But, as he and Arabella had already realised, Gilbert would not allow him his own choice in it. For he was too close in kinship and could also be used to forge alliances where the chieftain wanted.
‘I am certain that my uncle will decide that once he has settled the question of his own next marriage.’
He had not meant to be harsh and he regretted the way he’d spoken when he saw the colour drain from his mother’s cheeks. There was nothing he could say to ease the fear or worry for he’d spoken the truth. A truth both of them understood. A truth that confirmed his father’s choice those years ago that gave up his right to speak for his son.
Alan left without another word, pulling the door closed quietly though there was a need within him to slam it until it fell from its frame and hinges. A rage burned deep inside of him, one aimed at the impotency he felt when it came to his uncle. As he made his way down to the chamber he used when here, he realised that he was also angry with his father. He’d thought he would grow to accept what he could not change. Instead, it festered within him, made worse every time he faced his uncle or his father.
