Chapter 23
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Marcus walked beside Eli down the long stone corridor, the sound of their boots echoing in the silence. The weight of the council meeting ahead pressed on his shoulders. “It’s time we get to the bottom of this.” Marcus, glanced sideways at him.
Eli gave a sharp nod, his jaw tight with the seriousness of the situation.
“Aye, Laird,” Eli replied, his voice low. “The McArthur’s nae one to stir trouble without reason, Marcus. If he’s comin’ to speak, it’s to help the situation.”
Marcus sighed heavily, his mind already spinning with the possibilities. McArthur’s raids had nearly set the clans to war, but now, the man sought to help them.
They reached the door of the council chamber, and Marcus’ hand lingered on the cold wood before pushing it open.
Inside, the room was already filled with the weight of the clan’s most trusted and powerful, seated at the long wooden table.
His cousin, Ian, sat near the end, eyes narrowed, while his mother, Lady Elizabeth, sat with her usual poise at the other end of the table.
A few murmurs filled the air as Marcus and Eli entered, and all eyes turned to them.
Marcus wasted no time, stepping up to the table as the council quieted.
“We’ve gathered here today to discuss the accusations of Laird McArthur,” he began, his voice steady but laced with frustration.
“The raids ye’ve heard of were nae of our direct doin’ but rather the work of someone behind the scenes.
They’ve been dealin’ with problems on their lands, but the blame has been mislaid.
” His eyes met Lady Elizabeth’s, who nodded subtly in understanding.
“Ye mean to say someone’s been stirrin’ trouble within our own walls?” Ian’s voice cut through the tension, a hint of suspicion clouding his gaze.
Marcus. “Nay, that’s nae what I’m sayin’. There’s been deliberate attempts to weaken our position, and we’re nae about to let it pass without consequences.”
The council exchanged looks, whispers flitting across the table. “And ye’re certain that these deliberate actions are tied to McArthur’s raids?” one of the elders asked, his brow furrowed.
Marcus clenched his fists, but he kept his voice calm. “I’m certain,” he said. “I’ve seen the evidence meself. And we’ll track down the culprits, nay matter where they’ve gone. They are leavin’ our banner at the raids on McArthur lands to set us up.”
Lady Elizabeth spoke then, her tone measured yet firm. “And what about war, Marcus? Have ye managed to avoid it?” Her eyes held a sharpness that suggested she knew the stakes better than anyone else in the room. “The McArthurs are a proud family, and a war would cost us all dearly.”
Marcus met her gaze, the weight of her question heavy on his chest. “We’ve avoided war, but we’ve nae avoided the damage done.”
“We’ve managed to calm the storm with McArthur, aye,” Eli chimed in from Marcus’ side, “but the deliberate conflict is another matter. We’ve nae seen the last of it, and we need to act swiftly.
” His words hung in the air, and Marcus felt the tension rise in the room.
Every person present knew how delicate the situation was.
The council murmured in agreement, but Marcus could see the worry in their eyes. They were relieved that McArthur’s fury had been appeased, but the sabotage left them feeling vulnerable.
“I’ll find the culprit,” Marcus said, his voice low but resolute. “And when I do, there’ll be nay mercy for whoever’s behind this. We will protect the clan, nay matter what.”
Ian’s eyes flicked to Marcus, his face inscrutable. “Ye’ll have to move carefully, Marcus. If we act too hastily, we may turn one enemy into two.” His words were measured, but there was an edge to them, a reminder of how easily things could unravel.
Marcus nodded, his gaze hardening. “I’m nae blind, Ian. I’ll make sure we act wisely. But rest assured, I’ll find who’s responsible. We’ve invited Laird MacGregor here to speak with us and with Laird Arthur to get to the bottom of this."
The council settled into a tense silence as Marcus’ words settled in. The plan was set, but the true battle was only beginning.
After the council meeting had come to a close, Marcus felt the weight of the discussions still pressing on him.
He was turning to leave when Ian stepped in front of him, his face tight with regret.
“Marcus, I owe ye an apology,” Ian said, his voice quieter than usual.
“I believed the raids were real and thought we were on the verge of war, but ye were right all along.”
Marcus stared at Ian for a moment, the air thick with unspoken words. “Ye were just lookin’ out for the clan,” Marcus replied, his tone firm. “I cannae blame ye for wantin’ to protect us, Ian. It’s nae easy makin’ calls in times like these.”
Ian let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders slumping as if the burden of his mistake was too much to bear.
“I was too quick to believe the worst,” Ian admitted, shaking his head. “And now, we’ve got even more trouble brewin’, daenae we? The raids, it’s nae just about McArthur anymore. It’s someone who’s playin’ us all for fools.”
Marcus nodded grimly, clenching his fists. “Aye, it’s worse than we thought. But we’ll find out who’s behind it, and we’ll make it right.”
With that, Marcus excused himself, his mind swirling with plans for how to uncover the saboteur.
But there was something else pressing on his mind and heart.
He set off toward Annabeth’s room, determined to speak to her before he dealt with the other matters on his plate.
His footsteps echoed through the quiet halls, but just as he rounded the corner toward her door, Robert, one of the servants, appeared before him, looking breathless.
“Laird Marcus, there’s news,” Robert said, bowing quickly. “The MacGregors are approachin’ the gates.” Marcus’ heart sank, the thought of having to delay his talk with Annabeth gnawing at him.
“Blasted,” he muttered, turning on his heel. “I’ll go meet them now.”
As Marcus arrived at the gates, Laird Noah MacGregor was riding through the entrance, accompanied by a few of Noah’s guards.
Anthony and Eli were waiting at the entrance, and he steeled his resolve.
Noah, the Laird of the MacGregors, was a tall, broad-shouldered man, his face hard with years of experience in clan matters.
“Well met, Laird MacGregor,” Marcus said, offering a quick bow to Noah. “We’ve been expectin’ ye.”
Noah’s steely gaze met Marcus’, his mouth tight as if he had little patience for pleasantries. “Aye, and there’s nay time to waste, Marcus,” Noah replied, his voice gruff. “We’ve come to speak of matters that cannae be ignored any longer.”
Marcus led them through the halls of the keep, his mind racing with thoughts of the previous war between their clans.
“I daenae want to brin’ up old wounds. We’ve achieved peace between us, and that peace is important to me, but I hope we can talk of before the wars broke out as I have questions.
I’ve heard tell that ye were attacked by the MacLennans before ye declared war.
There were raids that ye and yer clan blamed on us,” Marcus said. “Is this true?”
Noah’s eyes flashed with a mixture of anger and frustration. “Aye, it’s true,” he said, his voice low but fierce. “The MacLennans came at us first, unprovoked. Yer attack forced our hand.”
Marcus felt a knot tighten in his stomach. “I never ordered an attack, Noah. We dinnae raid yer lands.” he said firmly.
“Nay, ye did. We found yer banner every time,” Noah said.
Marcus turned to Anthony. “Anthony, did ye hear that?”
Anthony stepped forward. “Aye. I did. It’s as we expected. It’s deliberate meddlin’ ye faced. It’s nay different from what’s happenin’ with me clan. Someone is behind this, and they’re causin’ a war where there neednae be one.”
Noah narrowed his eyes, studying Anthoney intently. “Ye’re tellin’ me someone’s stirrin’ trouble in yer clan?” he asked, his tone edged with suspicion.
“Aye, I am,” Anthony replied, his jaw set.
“Someone has been raidin’ me villages and leavin’ the stag banner of the MacLennans behind, trying to lead us to believe it’s Marcus.
But we have learned that is nae true. This meddlin’ has to be stopped before it leads to bloodshed.
I daenae want war, nae with the MacLennans, nae with anyone. ”
Marcus stepped forward, his face grim as he added, “Our clans are bein’ played, and the longer we wait, the more damage is done.
We’ll get to the bottom of this, Noah. I swear it.
And may I say that I apologize on behalf of me clan and people.
We should have been usin’ our words before the war instead of swords.
We both would have learned then that we were bein’ set up to fight each other. "
The MacGregor Laird stood silent for a long moment then nodded sharply. “Good. Then let’s get this sorted before it’s too late. We cannae afford any more false accusations.”
Marcus gave a curt nod in return, his mind already working through their next steps. The wheels of clan politics were never simple, but he was determined to stop the sabotage before it destroyed everything he had worked for.
Anthony glanced at Noah. “Was there a witness who said that Marcus was leadin’ these attacks too?” he asked, his voice calm but sharp with curiosity.
Noah hesitated for a moment, his expression hardening as he looked at Marcus. “Aye,” he replied, his tone heavy with the weight of the accusation. “There was a witness.”
Marcus narrowed his eyes, a flicker of suspicion passing through him. “Who was this witness?”
Anthony pressed, his voice sharp now, “Laird MacCormack by any chance?”
Noah’s eyes flickered with surprise as Anthony’s guess rang true. “Aye.”
Anthony let out a soft curse then turned to Marcus. “MacCormack?” he muttered, a deep frown creasing his forehead. “The same man who’s been sayin’ it ’twas ye in me territory too?”
Noah nodded, visibly startled at the connection. “Aye,” he replied, glancing between the two men. “It seems he’s been the one stirrin’ up trouble, but why he would accuse ye, Marcus, I daenae understand.”
Marcus’ jaw clenched, his mind racing to make sense of this new revelation.
“I’ve nay idea why he’d do such a thing,” he said, his voice steady despite the confusion swirling in his mind.
“The only time I approached MacCormack was when I sent in a trade request. That’s all, and we have nay real relations between us. ”
Noah exchanged a look with Anthony, both men puzzled by the turn of events.
“So ye didnae provoke him in any way?” Anthony asked, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied Marcus.
“I never laid a hand on him, nor did I threaten his land or people,” Marcus replied, his voice low but firm. “This whole thin’ doesnae make sense.”
“Well, there ye have it,” Anthony muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. “MacCormack is playin’ a game, and it’s one that puts us all at risk. We need to find out why he’s so eager to see us at each other’s throats.”
Marcus’ eyes burned with a quiet fury. “Aye,” he agreed, his fists clenching. “And I’ll find out what he’s up to.”
Noah crossed his arms, his stance firm as he considered their options. “If MacCormack is behind these false claims, then he must be after somethin’,” he said, his voice taking on a dangerous edge. “It’s nae just about the attacks—it’s about what he stands to gain from it.”
Marcus nodded, his mind working furiously. “I’ve always suspected there was more to this, and now, it seems we’re bein’ used as pawns in someone else’s game.”
Marcus stood still for a long moment, considering everything he’d learned in the last hour.
His thoughts kept returning to Annabeth—he had to make sure she was safe and that she didn’t get caught in the middle of all this.
But the clan was his responsibility, and if MacCormack was the one stirring up the trouble, he would not let the man get away with it.