Page 3 of The Lion

In the courtyard, people climbed on wagons, and horseback riders mounted. Other clans people walked to and from a makeshift table where his scribe noted who had been provided with what.

Down the side of the house, there were steps that led to a lower area. Darach descended the slope and continued down until reaching the shoreline of a loch. At the water’s edge, hidden from sight, he lowered to his knees and bent forward covering his face with both hands.

It wasn’t as much to pray, but an effort to seek the fortitude to continue. At becoming laird, he’d not been aware of the magnitude of the issues he would face.

Upon his father’s death, the truth had come to light of how horrible a leader his father had been. People hadn’t come to seek help or guidance for fear of repercussions. Those who had not been in his father’s favor now openly complained; the grievances ringing of truth and injustice.

How had he been so blind? Somehow his father had been so controlling of the people that they’d forced smiles and never showed any kind of discord. Now he learned that they were under threat of death for any misdeed his father considered treasonous.

How had it come to be that to ask for food or help was viewed as treason, and therefore, people were on the verge of starvation and death? Those that had livestock and those who grew crops were not allowed to share in case the laird had need of it.

While food rotted in the keep’s storehouses, people outside the gates starved.

Fury filled him to the point that screams caught in his throat. Even the soft lapping of the water did little to soothe him.

Senses overwhelmed; all he could do was to take deep breaths and expel them. When his hound caught up with him and lowered to its hunches, Darach reached over and scratched its head. Seeming reassured all was well, the animal rose and began running along the shoreline, picking up a stick and playing.

He watched the dog, jealous over its lack of concern. He’d originally named the black hound Abyss, but in truth, the name did no justice as the animal had a friendly jovial nature. So now he called him Albie.

The cold air swept across the surface of the water bringing with it the smell of the nearby sea. Realizing it had been a long time since he’d allowed himself to just be, he took a deep breath of the salty air.

Stuart, who was the closest to him out of his six siblings, called to him, “Darach, what are ye doing?”

By the way Stuart neared and then followed his line of sight to the loch, his brother needed no explanation.

“Why was Father so cruel to his people?” Darach asked.

“Perhaps he didn’t see it as cruelty, but as a way to manage everyone.”

Darach studied Stuart. His brother’s dark brown hair blowing across the chiseled serious face. “I cannot believe that. We have only to listen to them. To see them. To know how horribly they’ve been treated.”

Stuart straightened his shoulders and held his head high. “We can argue every point of how things have been done in the past. It will not help those people now,” he said, motioning toward the house. “What matters right now is that we help them. Set a new standard. Blaze a new trail.”

Pushing his shoulder-length blond hair away from his face, Darach met his brother’s unwavering gaze. “Only with ye and our family beside me can I do this.”

Stuart’s lips curved. “With each day that passes, ye become stronger. Ye will be a great leader, Darach. I have little doubt.”

“So, a bit of skepticism remains then?” Darach asked with a pointed look.

Stuart returned the look with a lift to his right eyebrow. “Ye are far from perfect, brother. If one were to search for utter perfection, one has to only look at me.”

Unable to keep from it, Darach chuckled. Albie, hearing his laugh, raced to him dragging a long branch.

He bent to take the branch from the dog, broke a smaller piece from it, and threw it for the dog to happily retrieve.

“Let us head back.”

Last meal in the family dining room was a quiet affair. In the great hall, the people who had been invited to remain so that their qualms could be heard the following day were fed a simpler fare.

“Duncan and Caelan should be here,” Ella, the youngest of the siblings, said, referring to their brothers. “Duncan should be helping ye.”

Darach gave her an indulgent look. “They have their own responsibilities in their region. There is the threat from Clan MacNeil and the fact the people there are also revolting upon learning of our father’s death.

One of the things Darach was thankful for was that there were seven of them—six brothers and one sister with whom he could divide the burden of what they had been left with.

“What of Clan Uisdein?” Stuart asked, his hazel eyes flashing angrily. “They are refusing to allow me to visit and returned my messenger with threats of harm if we send him back. I am set to marry Fenella Uisdein in the spring.”

Gideon let out a bark of laughter. “I would not count on the marriage taking place. She is no doubt relieved, do ye not think?”