Page 33 of Highlander’s Lust

Plans of Long Standing Revealed

The trial of Laird Charlie Brisbane was the talk of the countryside. All the clergy were there, and every chieftain and landowner for miles around had been summoned to pass judgment. They paid taxes to his lairdship’s estate, and in return, they wanted to see the former glory and dignity of the clan chief restored and upheld. The general consensus of opinion was this: his lairdship was a fierce warrior and had successfully defended their borders from invaders and cattle raiders for over ten years, but the man’s behavior off the battlefield was an absolute disgrace!

Villagers had been tut-tutting behind their hands for years, and now was their chance to make vocal their disapproval. Their young men and husbands were being led astray by such arrant adultery, and it was the generally held opinion that Laird Brisbane’s chickens had come home to roost with a vengeance.

The village hall was packed with curious onlookers as Laird Brisbane was brought forth from his dungeon cell. Gone was the haughty Highland laird who bristled with aggressive masculinity. His lairdship looked defeated already; his long, dark hair hung over his face, and his shirt was soiled underneath the great plaid he had pulled over his shoulders. Some of the servants who had been brought from the castle as witnesses gasped when they saw their master and whispers could be heard circling the court that Lady Brisbane had laid a curse on her husband before mounting on her broomstick and flying back to the land of faerie.

Chieftain MacTavish raised his hands, indicating the trial was about to start.

“Hush, assembled folk. I would like to speak out first. Me own son, Gavin, has been guilty of as much adultery and drunken frolicking as his lairdship here. I have sent Gavin away from MacTavish lodge and will no’ accept him back under me roof ‘til the wretch has mended his ways.”

There were loud murmurs of surprise at Chieftain MacTavish’s announcement. If the man was prepared to come down so hard on his own son, it did not bode well for how things would go against Laird Brisbane.

The clergyman who had married Laird and Lady Brisbane held up his hands. “Quiet! Proceedings will commence. I call the first witness.”

Sorley stepped up to the lectern, a sorrowful look on his face.

“This is a sad day for the Brisbane clan—a once proud and lairdly people. But now we are brought down by the antics of this ignoble man. I will no’ sully yer ears by going into too much detail; suffice it to say that stories of this man’s debaucheries have nae been exaggerated. He has not failed to commit every sin against heaven, but his biggest sin is lust!”

A ripple of disgust spread over the village hall. People whispered behind their hands.

“Aye, Sorley, we ken all about his youthful frolics continuing into his lairdship’s prime years,” Chieftain MacTavish said loudly. “But we need more proof than simple graceless jackanapes. This is a serious accusation standing against the man, and as long as I am head of this hearing—and not the kirk—ye will stick to providing us with evidence of a more earthly nature.”

Sorley blushed but was quick to recover himself. “Aye, sir, here’s the truth with no bark on it: Laird Brisbane, me unfortunate cousin, paid his bride’s worth with over five times that in gold from the clan coffers! Not only did he grossly overpay the Macanroy for his daughter without so much as a guarantee of her fertility, but he paid the man before he had even bedded her! And he refused the Macanroy’s offer of a dowry!”

This time, Sorley’s revelation caused angry outbursts from the villagers.

“The girl is still a maiden, and he pays the faither as though the lass has born him three heirs at once!? We want our gold back!”

A tall man who had been standing quietly in the corner of the hall spoke up at this. “Ye all will hold yer peace! I have one hundred of me own men-at-arms outside this hall, and if I get one whiff of any bias during these proceedings, I’ll have them in here before the cat has time to lick its ear!”

Chieftain MacTavish waved his hand up and down. “Aye! Peace! Matthew Cèampach speaks the truth. There’ll be nay more talk of rebellion here.”

The crowd simmered down, but the atmosphere was still fraught with tension.

Sorley seemed satisfied at the effect his words were having on the audience. Any clan was more than happy to pay for a wealthy and fertile bride, but never in advance.

“If that were no’ enough to warrant his expulsion from the clan,” Sorley continued, “the undeniable fact is that Charlie Brisbane has failed to make the girl a woman, wife, and mither. This proof is all we need to show that he should be cast out. If a man can only rise to the occasion when his lust is stimulated by the unnatural acts of whores, how will he ever provide the clan with honest heirs?”

More outrage swept over the audience.

“Aye, well, ye might wonder!” Sorley continued. “His wife has not been able to lose her maidenhead, thus making his marriage null and void, and well he kens it!” Sorley pointed a shaking finger at Charlie. “I say we demand our money back from the Macanroy—begging yer pardon for mentioning this again, Mister Matthew—and send the Macanroy’s daughter back to him, and find ourselves a new chief!”

A delighted roar of approval greeted this statement. Chieftain MacTavish and Matthew Cèampach, Eby’s cousin, looked at each other across the hall with worried expressions.

Sorley waved his hands in the air like a triumphant conqueror. “And when we’ve seen the last of Ramsay Brisbane’s sordid seed, we can start the clan anew, with me, Sorley Crosbie Brisbane, as laird, as is my right as cousin!”

The cheers died down immediately, and an embarrassed silence fell over the hall.

“Beggin’ yer pardon, Steward Sorley”—Chieftain MacTavish made haste to fill in the awkward moment with words—“but the annals clearly state that in the off chance of a chief dying without an heir or being cast out by his clan, it then falls to all elected elders to choose a replacement. However, I will make a mark in the meeting notes, mentioning yer offer to take up the mantle of lairdly responsibility.”

“But, but...the lairdship must go to me. I checked, and there is nay doubt that I am the closest living relative,” Sorley stammered, looking around the hall for support.

The villagers were staring at Sorley with frowns. Suddenly it was dawning on them that it was all very well to rid themselves of a young laird who had continued to sow his oats a little too freely into his adulthood, and another thing altogether to choose Sorley as his replacement.

One farmhand leaned over to the shepherd seated beside him on the bench, saying in a loud voice, “I don’ see yon soft gentleman, Sorley, protecting us from cattle raiders and brigands, do ye?”

Laughter shook the hall at these words. Sorley’s face grew red with anger. His carefully laid plans were going awry. The only thing that seemed to be stopping the accusation from being thrown out was Laird Brisbane himself. He continued to sit slumped down in the dock, fettered hands hanging loosely between his legs.

Matthew Cèampach judged this to be an opportune time for him to leave. When his neighbor saw the wealthy farmer heading for the doors, he pulled him aside. “Stay, lad, for the love of God! We dinnae want that tub o’ lard Sorley to be our laird! At least stick around long enough to vote in Chieftain MacTavish as the overseer until this wretched business sorts itself out!”

Matthew stayed the man’s hand. “I will return anon,” he said, and he left.

Sorley grinned when he saw this. Farmer Cèampach was one of Laird Brisbane’s most avid supporters; if he left and took his one hundred men-at-arms with him, the road to Sorley’s lairdship would be made a lot smoother.

“I can hire mercenaries to stave off cattle raiders an’ brigands!” he shouted out into the hall. “Ye don’ need a man who cannae even successfully cover his wife to make yer borders safe!”

The doors at the back of the hall opened. Jean walked in, but she was not immediately recognizable.

Her glorious auburn locks were tucked away under a pretty lace cap. It looked as if she had broken off cleaning or baking for a short while because she also wore a matronly pinafore pinned to her bodice. She looked the epitome of wifely obedience and matrimonial matronhood.

“How now?” she said to the assembled crowd. “What are these accusations held against me husband?”