Page 19 of Bride of the Sinful Laird
“Gilleasbuig is our Clan Historian,” Tormod explained, adding in a disapproving tone, “Sometimes he lives too much in the past and forgets the present.”
The newcomer simply gave a good-natured shrug and took his seat beside Edmund.
Before the meeting formally commenced, two kitchen hands entered bearing ewers of ale and tankards and a tray loaded with bowls of nuts, cheese and oatcakes.
“Now that ye’ve all met wi’ Laird Baldur’s heir, Edmund Baldurson Sinclair MacNeacail, I declare our meeting open.” Tormod look around the group as if anticipating comments.
Gilleasbuig raised a finger. “I believe we are all aware of the circumstances that have brought us here today. Our Laird Baldur declared his son, Edmund, who was born out of wedlock,tae be his heir.”
Edmund cringed a little at the reminder of the inauspicious state of affairs surrounding his birth. A painful knot formed in his belly.
There was a general murmur and nodding of heads around the table as Gilleas went on. “As yer historian, I am happy tae advise ye that, as Baldur has officially named Edmund as his heir, his manner of his birth is of nay legal consequence in determining his rightful claim tae the lairdship.”
Tormod nodded. “Yer guidance in this matter is welcome.”
Edmund’s knot eased a little and he felt a lightening of the weight he’d carried on his shoulders for as long as he could remember.
Lamend folded his arms across his chest and fixed his gaze on Edmund. “Yer father sought long and hard fer ye, lad. When the fading sickness came on him and he kent there was little time left tae him on this earth, he widened his search. It brought him satisfaction before he passed that he had found ye, although, he was saddened he’d nae been able tae make yer acquaintance.”
Edmund reached for the tankard of ale and took a long draught. He could only nod. His heart ached to learn that the father whose identity he’d never known, and who he’d always believedhad sent him away and abandoned him, had searched for him for years.
“It was yer maither’s choice to leave here. She didnae wish tae wed.” Tormod spoke gently, yet Edmund caught a flash of sadness in the Elder’s eyes. “She was yer faither’s first love, his true love. Although he married later in his life and his wife, the Lady Eleanor, gave birth tae yer half-sister, Tyra, there was always a shadow of melancholy surrounding Baldur. He didnae recover from his loss, it was with him to the end of his days.”
Lamend leaned forward. “If any doubt yer parentage, lad, they’ve only to look upon ye to recognize ye are yer faither’s son. I kent Baldur MacNeacail as a lad and I see him again, clear as daylight, in ye.”
The others nodded their agreement.
Edmund was reeling. Until the night before, when Tormod had shown him Baldur’s letter, he’d known nothing of this.
Only now, among the Elders of his Clan, did he begin to understand that it was his mother’s decision to flee with him to the Isle of Mull and that his father had been bereft at the loss of his newborn son.
From what he had discerned, it seemed Elizabeth Sinclair had no wish to marry Baldur, and she had, in fact, broken his father’s heart. As a bairn he’d been too young to question, believing his mother had died. It was only when he had grown to manhood, he discovered she’d left him at Dùn Ara and taken the veil atSt Mary’s Convent in Haddington. For all he knew, she was still there.
It was still too soon for him to grasp the things he was learning about his parents. He was still to understand why he had been placed in the care of the MacKinnons at Dùn Ara. Tòrr’s mother was an aunt of sorts, and she had taken in her cousin’s son and raised him as her own until her death.
All four Elders looked to Edmund, but it was Tormod who spoke first.
“As the Elders of Clan MacNeacail, we are the keepers of its history. In our hearts we hold the records of all who have gone before us. We ken the stories, and we ken its laws. Our duty, here today, is tae honor the laird’s wishes and tae advise the Clan Council. The clan needs a new leader, a man who can uphold our traditions and our law and, as Baldur’s heir, we turn tae ye.”
Gaufried, who’d said little but had listened, nodding, to everything that had already been said, raised a hand. “The decision of who is tae take on the lairdship daesnae rest with us gray-hairs, but with all the Clan Council. We have been asked by the Council members tae speak wi’ ye and discern yer wishes, and tae offer our recommendation tae the Council as tae whether we believe ye will make a worthy laird of our Clan.”
Edmund took a deep breath. He’d said little, but now it was his turn to speak. He was torn. He’d departed Dùn Ara convincing both himself and Laird Tòrr that he had no intention of taking the lairdship of a clan that – as far as he was concerned – hadrejected him and banished him as an unwanted bairn, even a nuisance.
Now, it appeared his bitterness and resentment had been mistaken. What he’d believed was far from the truth. Here, in the presence of the Elders of his clan, he felt a kinship with them. Something he’d longed for all his life.
But he did not believe himself worthy to take on the lairdship for he knew little of the clan he was heir to.
“Every clan has its own unique history and lore, its magic, its heroes and its legends. I ken this is one of the oldest of the clans, and ye look to a past from the earliest warriors and leaders such as the Viking princes who were the first of the clan tae reside here at Scorrybreac.”
His mouth was suddenly dry. He reached for the ale and drained the tankard.
“As ye all ken, I’ve been schooled in the ways of Clan MacKinnon all me life. And because of me life spent at Dùn Ara, I ken little of the mighty MacNeacails. I lack the knowledge a laird must have of his own people, his clan’s history, its people and its laws.”
“So ye’ve nay wish tae claim yer birthright as laird, tae follow in the footsteps of yer faither.”
Edmund shook his head. “I’ve yet tae…”
“Wait.” Gilleasbuig held up his hand. “Before ye tell us nay, lad. Pause a while. Ye’re welcome at Scorrybreac fer as long as ye wish tae stay. Why nae catch a breath and explore our lands, meet some of yer kinfolk.” He gestured around the table. “We’re all ready tae offer ye whatever ye may wish tae ken about the daeings of the clan and yer own history.”
