“Let’s go on up to the great hall, Emer. That’s where the Lairds are holding their deliberations,” he said.
The messenger took their horses to the stables, leaving Emer and Gilby to go into the hall.
A welcome sight met their eyes when they entered quietly through one of the side entrances.
Flora was standing chained beside two tall guards. She was staring defiantly at the dais where sat the Maclachlan men. The old Laird was seated in an armchair in the middle of the table. Gawain and Caillen stood on either side.
The three men had their heads together, obviously having a conference.
Flora screamed up at the dais, “Ye’ll never get away with this, ye tricked-out knaves! Me faither will storm the castle!”
They ignored her. Caillen sat down next to his father, wrote something on parchment, and then they spoke amongst one another again.
Over a dozen chieftains from neighboring clans were also in the hall. This was clan business, and clan business was done out in the open for all to see and take part.
Flora was not used to people ignoring her, “Did ye nae hear what I said! Me faither will kill ye all.”
Caillen turned toward her nonchalantly, “Nay, he will nae be doin’ that, Flora. When yer faither didnae have ye to do his biddin’ and give all his orders for him, the auld man had to show his face to the servants for the first time in years. They took one look at him and put him outside the lodge gates – and then closed the gates behind him.”
Flora let fly with a spew of invective. But all it did was make the chieftains in the hall laugh and comment on her skill at hurling insults. This was something quite new for Flora; at Sutherland Lodge, everyone had treated her with kid gloves and rushed to fulfill her every whim. Powerless and humiliated, all she could do was scream and curse.
The Maclachlan men seemed to have finished consulting with each other. Caillen spoke out to the hall.
“How does this sound: men, chieftains, and all leaders who have been handled in the most egregious fashion by the Sutherland clan.” He dipped his head down and began reading off the parchment, “They have conceded all lands taken within the last thirty years – the land is to go back to the rightful owners; likewise cattle. They have forfeited their right to train and house skilled men at arms. The withdrawing of their boundaries is to be done in a manner that does nae inconvenience the tenants and villagers residing therein. Does that sound agreeable?”
All the men in the hall cheered. No ‘nays’ were heard. A few mugs of ale were tipped, and tots of whisky gulped down.
“And as a guarantee of all this,” Caillen pointed down at the parchment on the table, “wee Flora Sutherland will be staying here at Maclachlan keep – as our guest.”
Loud guffaws of laughter were heard when he said this.
“Would ye like us to take her to the dungeons, Laird?” one of Flora’s guards said.
“Aye, take her to the dungeons before her face curdles our milk,” Gawain said.
“And tell her we’ve made sure our prisons have nae secret escape routes,” Caillen added as a parting shot as the guards dragged Flora away. She kicked, screamed, and lashed out at the men, but they ignored her as they would the buzzing of an annoying insect.
The men began to stand up and discuss what they had just witnessed. The old Laird put up his hand and spoke out for the first time.
“Stop! All is nae quite finished yet.”
Everyone froze and fell silent. What more was there to say?
Using his cane, Laird Cai Maclachlan stood up slowly.
“For his part in all this – the successful expansion of the Sutherland clan into others’ territory; the collusion with our enemies; the betrayal of our clan -,” Laird Cai turned to Gawain standing on his left, “I banish ye, Gawain Maclachlan, from our territories and our borders forever. Give up all yer great plaid and yer tartan afore ye leave – an’ take yer manservant, Campbell, with ye.”
The old man sat back down. The silence continued. To any Highlander, death would have been kinder.
Gawain bowed low to his father, stepped down from the dais, and walked out of the hall. A murmur of low voices broke out in the room. Emer had seen all she needed to see. She walked out of the hall too.
Chapter Thirty-Four
“What d’ye mean ‘ye’re leaving,’” Davinia wanted to know, her eyes tearful.
She had come back into their bedchamber after saying her farewells to Gawain. She had been forgiven for running to Gawain with her tattletale as she had been entirely in the dark about how much had been at stake.
“I’m going back to live in Nethy, Davi,” Emer said calmly, “here – ye can have these.”
