“Greum, there’s something I have to tell you.” Camden tugged on the sleeve of his shirt.
“Not now, my dearest.” He kissed Camden's forehead and directed him to the furthest gate into the castle grounds. “The Sutharlainns have been falsely accusing us for years and I won’t stand for them claiming we stole their Laird.” He spun him away from him and pushed him through the doorway. “Go and get dressed, and stay here. Please. Now that I have found you, I will not have you risk yourself in the fighting.”
His green eyes looked into Camden's, fear for his life and care mixed in a complex blend of emotions that made Camden's heart beat faster. Greum turned away before he could reply, and went sprinting down the path towards the field before the castle. With a sigh, wishing he could have said more, Greum returned to his quarters, walking slowly up through the castle from the back door into the washroom. He would have to make himself presentable before seeing his uncle, he thought, resigned.
After Camden had dressed he walked silently down the back stairway toward the great hall, from which a riot of shouting was to be heard.
“Silence!” Laird MacConaill shouted. “I’ve told you already Donnal, that we don’t have him.”
“Of course you’d say that.” Camden heard his uncle growl, “You’ve been trying to get your claws into him since he was a bairn!”
“I don’t know what you are talking about.” Came the angry reply. “The Sutharlainn approached us with the offer, not the other way around.”
“Yes, and then you went and murdered him.” Donnal spat.
“I’ve told you, we had no reason for doing so.” Camden heard the unmistakable sound of swords being drawn. “If you keep spreading that falsehood, I’ll have your head right here.”
Camden took a deep breath and stepped into the room full of aggressive and angry people.
Not one took note of his arrival until he spoke.
“Uncle.” he walked quietly into the room, his hand signaling the men to put away their weapons. They blinked and obeyed instantly. Camden's eyes shifted to Greum who, like all the men around him, was staring at him with open-faced surprise. From somewhere in the crowd he heard Deirdre swear. “Clan MacConaill had no knowledge of my arrival. I travelled under false pretenses and name to discover their role in my father’s death.”
“Camden.” Greum whispered. He now understood the awkward tension of watching another begin to put the puzzle together. Camden could not help feeling some small satisfaction at that. It flared and then died briefly, overwhelmed by the seriousness of the mood in the hall that day. It was oppressive, as if the roof collapsed on them all.
Camden continued as if he had not heard the intake of breath from Greum. “They took no part in the deception. Of that, I am sure. I believe,” he spoke to all of the men gathered in the hall, raising his voice and turning slightly, using the gifts of oratory and command he had been learning since childhood. “that we have done them a great injustice by breaking our promise of peace. I can only hope,” he turned to Greum’s father, “that we can repair that great misunderstanding.”
“Absolutely not!” Camden's uncle shouted. There was a murmur through the crowd that Donnal would speak to the head of his own clan in such a way. Camden was taken aback. It was known that his uncle had acted as proxy Laird after the death of his father, but it was to Camden that he was supposed to defer.
“Excuse me?” He replied calmly.
“I’ll not live to see the day you forgive these...people, become one of them, whether your father promised it or not.” Donnal spat on the floor at the Laird’s feet. Deirdre was laughing quietly in the background, her mouth in the shape of an O as she stared back and forth between Camden and Greum, who, despite Donnal’s efforts, had found each other on their own.
Camden's head began to spin. “What are you talking about?”
“My brother had...had promised you to these abominations, even invited them to the gathering to announce it. That was before they killed him, probably thinking they could take control of the clan through you straight away. But I saw them for what they were.”
Greum’s arm shot out to hold back Aiden who had lunged forward.
“I’ll die before I see Clan Sutharlainn mix with the MacConaills. Even your mother should have stayed here.” Camden's uncle continued, face contorting with rage.
The MacConaill men roared with anger. Camden hoped they had the presence of mind to remain in their human forms. His uncle had no idea the danger in which he stood.
A scene from the night of the gathering played across Camden’s mind, his father and uncle arguing in the small chamber. His uncle shouting, You’ll make that agreement over my dead body. Camden realized that he had not thought anything of it at the time, but he now looked at his uncle in an entirely new light.
“You seized control of the clan, after my father’s death.” He whispered. His head was tilted to the side as he looked at him. “You told my father that he’d make the agreement over your dead body. I did not understand it until now, but what you really meant…was over his.” Pure hatred must have shown on Camden’s face because as he accused his uncle of his father’s murder, every sword of Clan Sutharlainn pointed directly at his heart. “You poisoned him Uncle, didn’t you?”
Donnal grunted, but nothing more.
“If you wanted the clan, why not kill me, too?” he wondered aloud. “Why not do away with me the first chance you had?”
“Because the Clan doesn’t follow Donnal, Lord Sutharlainn.” Came a voice from the crowd. “We follow you.” A cheer rose from his kinsmen.
It all made sense now. So long as his uncle kept Camden as a figurehead, and prevented the birth of an heir, he could rule the Clan without opposition. If Camden died of old age without a child, the Lairdship would pass to Donnal’s own son, and his after that.
“Death to him!” Camden's clansmen were shouting, now, but Camden raised his hand, requesting silence.
“Laird MacConaill.” He turned to address the proud man standing in front of him. “I apologize for my deception and must admit another falsehood.” He pulled the small vial from his pocket. “I brought this for you, and your sons, hoping to avenge the death of my father.” The room was painfully silent. “Upon learning the truth from your children, and your clansmen, I found no need for the poison.” His eyes turned to Greum as he stared at the vial in his hand. Camden turned to the crowd as a whole, his voice strong and sure. “This death was meant for the man who killed my father. It has waited for the moment of justice.” He addressed the Laird and his sons, but his eyes focused solely on Greum. “I apologize, most feelingly, for believing that you took part in the murder. I ask now, that together we rid ourselves of this evil and begin anew.” He held the vial forward for the Laird to take, which he did.
He opened the vial and held out for a cup. A servant brought one immediately. The MacConaill emptied the vial into the cup and stepped down from the raised platform on which he stood. Without a word, he offered the cup to Donnal, who stood shaking with fear.
“Will no one speak for me?” he growled toward the men who used to defend him.
“A drink, to Clan MacConaill!” shouted a soldier from the midst of the Sutharlainn ranks.
“Camden,” his uncle turned to him with the cup shaking in his hands. “I raised you…”
“My father should have raised me.” He stared into the cold eyes of his kin. “Take him outside for his drink!” He turned away. “I have no wish to look upon him any longer.” And with that his uncle was dragged off through the crowd to his death.
When he turned back around Laird MacConaill was standing right beside him. He placed his hands on his shoulders. “You are a devoted son, Laird Sutherlainn. I’m sure you’d like to return home now.” The old man leaned forward and placed a hand on his arm. “You would have made a wonderful addition to my household.”
“He still might.” Deirdre spoke from Camden's other side. Camden raised his eyes to Greum who
had likewise approached.
“You were going to poison us?” he looked at Camden with laughing disbelief. It was clear that his boldness amazed him. He was grateful that they were not angry.
“That was before I realized that I had entered the territory of the black wolf.” He smiled. Greum pulled him forward and placed his hands on his shoulders, in front of both clans. The entire room erupted with cheers.
“Why is it that the Laird is always the last to know everything?” Camden heard Greum's father ask, querulously.
With a hearty laugh Camden allowed Greum to hold him, impossibly tightly against his chest. Camden felt an overwhelming happiness that the dreams of his parents, to unite the clans, would finally be a reality. In that moment, he felt as if they were there, beside him.
It was only later, three weeks later, that they discovered that Camden was not the only inclusion in the MacConnaill line. He was pregnant, with Greum's son.
Greum stood behind Camden, his arms wrapped around his middle, caressing Camden’s belly and the blossoming pup inside. “We'll call him Lainn.” They decided, smiling. “After the former Laird Sutharlainn.”
It was then that the endless years of bitterness, vengeance and rage within Camden evaporated, giving birth to love, contentedness and blissful happiness.
The End
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