Niall shook his head. “There is no need. We know the trail will lead to Matheson and we have little hope of catching them now. We must get these people back to Duncurra. When they are safe, I will decide what needs to be done.”
Diarmad nodded and said, “Apparently, Matheson has returned your message. Old Una just told me the leader said to tell ye, ‘Duncurra is next.’”
~ * ~
Niall brooded silently as they rode back to Duncurra, arriving after daybreak. He and Diarmad went to the great hall and he asked Cairbre and Alan to join them. He trusted these three men above all others. Once they arrived, he dismissed the servants and told his men about the conversation Tomas had overheard.
Diarmad said, “Do ye think the pair he heard were somehow involved in this raid?”
Niall shook his head in frustration. “I don’t know. He heard them say ‘everything was arranged,’ but he also seemed to think whatever they were talking about would end in my death.”
Diarmad answered, “Maybe they were lying in wait, assuming ye would follow the raiders.”
“Ye didn’t track the raiders?” asked Alan.
“It seemed pointless. They had already wrought the destruction and I decided it was more important to get my people safely back to Duncurra. Now I wish I had followed the spineless curs.”
“Well,” said Cairbre, “If they were lying in wait, ye can bet ye would have been significantly outnumbered. Cowards are more likely to rely on numbers than skill. They lose more of their own, but achieve the outcome they desire. If it was their plan to ambush ye, your compassion for your clan has thwarted their attempt.”
“Perhaps,” said Niall, “but regardless of whether this attack was what the conspirators were discussing or not, I have a much bigger problem. Someone here, at Duncurra, is plotting my death and the evidence points in one direction...Fingal.”
His men stared at him in astonishment. Cairbre was the first to respond, “Laird, that isn’t possible. Fingal has worshipped ye from the moment he could toddle. There is no one more loyal to ye than Fingal.”
Niall turned on him darkly. “Really?” said Niall with derision. “Whoever it was admitted to pretending to be something he wasn’t. Fingal’s devotion could all be pretense. Tell me, who else would inherit Duncurra?”
“Laird, I know it looks damning, but I, too, can’t believe Fingal is behind this,” said Diarmad.
“What is Fingal behind?” said Malcolm casually as he walked into the great hall.
“Well, ye may as well know, too,” said Niall, before quickly running through the events of the last few days.
Malcolm looked shocked and concerned. “I have trouble believing Fingal could be involved in a plot against ye, Niall. Perhaps young Tomas misheard or imagined the whole thing. Maybe he just made it up for the attention.”
Niall shook his head. “Nay, I have questioned him at length, his story doesn’t vary, and he’s terrified. I believe Tomas heard what he said he did. Fingal thinks he is the one who would inherit Duncurra.”
“Isn’t he?” asked Malcolm.
“Nay. Katherine wanted to wait to make the announcement, but she is with child. If something were to happen to me, the bairn stands to inherit Duncurra, not Fingal.”
Niall’s men congratulated him, their happiness dampened somewhat by the serious circumstances in which they found themselves.
Niall said, “Perhaps Fingal worried about something like this. The attacks increased after I married Katherine. Maybe he was hoping to seize control before there was an heir.”
Alan said, “Niall, I can’t explain what Tomas overheard, but like Cairbre and Diarmad, I cannot believe Fingal is behind this.”
“If ye are sure the lad is telling the truth, now, as I think more about it, I’m not so sure it isn’t Fingal,” Malcolm said. “Fingal certainly would expect to inherit Duncurra. He also knows, and by all accounts, was friendly with Tadhg Matheson while they were in training. If Matheson was aiding him, it would explain why the conspirator bemoaned the fact he would not be the one to kill ye. He expected Matheson or one of his men would. Maybe Fingal staged his own accident to ensure no one suspected him.”
“I think it is time we had a chat with my brother,” said Niall, his expression dark and cold. “Diarmad, please go and invite Fingal to join us.”
“Laird, he is injured, perhaps we should go to him.”
“My wife assures me Fingal’s injury is not serious. I am sure he can make it down the stairs with your assistance,” Niall said with barely controlled rage.