My Brave Highlander(89)

His father's senachie, Phelan, who was also one of the elder clansmen, rose from the bench. His long white beard gave him a wise and distinguished air. "This hearing is to determine who the rightful chief of the MacKay clan shall be. We want a strong leader who is also the son of our revered former chief, Griff MacKay, may God rest his soul." Phelan's rich voice rang out and everyone listened intently. The man was a gifted orator, and had been telling stories of their ancestors to the clan all Dirk's life, and long before.

"I remember when Dirk MacKay was born." Phelan motioned toward Dirk. "I was standing right here in this hall when the proud Chief Griff MacKay came down the stairs carrying his firstborn son. The bairn was screaming to the top of his lungs, roaring like a wee lion cub. We could tell then he would be a fearsome warrior one day, just like his father and his grandfather before him. I ask that you all honor the memory of Griff MacKay by acknowledging his firstborn son, Dirk MacKay, as the rightful and current chief." Phelan resumed his seat.

Another clansman stood, Dirk's great uncle, Hamish. "Aye, and when his da held him aloft without a stitch of clothes on, we all saw the wee birthmark on his left shoulder in the shape of a Highland dirk. All of you who were here when Dirk arrived a few nights ago saw that same mark on this man's shoulder." He pointed to Dirk.

"You are mad, old man," Maighread growled from her corner.

Hamish turned to glare at her. "You were nay here, old woman."

She gasped and her mouth hung open.

Dirk couldn't hold back the soft snort that escaped. 'Twas about time Maighread got some of her rudeness returned. He glanced aside at Aiden to find him holding back a grin as well.

"Laird MacKay would turn in his grave if he knew you spoke to me that way," Maighread said, offense dripping from every word.

"And, if he were here, Laird MacKay would know this man is his eldest son." Hamish pointed toward Dirk. Ignoring her, he addressed the rest of the clan. "If you see the evidence and hear the testimonies of everyone who knew Dirk when he was a lad—almost everyone here over the age of twenty—you will see that Dirk is the rightful chief of our clan. You but need to look at him to see he is the spitting image of his father. Clearly, he is also a strong, intelligent man, a well-trained soldier and will be a powerful leader for our clan."

Reverend MacMahon and five more clansmen acknowledged that they knew without doubt Dirk was who he claimed to be.

Aiden stood. "I agree with all of you."

"Aiden, sit down!" Maighread ordered.

"Nay, Mother. If you truly see me as the rightful chief, then let me speak the truth." He glared at her and when she remained silent, he went on to address the clan. "I remember Dirk well from when I was a lad. I looked up to him and admired him as a strong older brother and someone I wanted to be like. This man sitting beside me is my brother." He motioned to Dirk. "My father's eldest son. As such, it is his right to lead this clan as the chief. I am stepping aside, Dirk. What they say is true. You will make a powerful, strong and wise leader."

Dirk stood, near overcome with humble gratitude for his beloved brother. He clasped his hand, then hugged him.

"I'm proud of you, Aiden. You are the most honorable of men."

"I thank you, brother."

"This is lunacy!" Haldane leapt to his feet, his hands clenched in fists at his side. "Are you insane, Aiden? To simply hand over the inheritance that Da entrusted you with to this imposter?"

"Sit down, Haldane," Aiden said in a calm but firm voice.

"Nay! I will not sit down. Nor will I be the filthy rushes beneath this bastard's feet! You are daft to give up everything without a fight."

"There is no need to fight. I know the truth. This is Da's oldest son."

"You don't know that he is legitimate. Da may not have even been married to his mother. 'Haps she was only his whore and this man a bastard in truth."

"You go too far, Haldane!" Dirk said, offended outrage rushing through him that the lad could insult his mother to such a degree. "Either sit down and remain silent or leave."

With a snarl, his youngest brother stormed from the room and shoved the door back to bang against the stone wall. A gust of chilly wind whooshed in before the guard closed the door.

Dirk ran his gaze over Maighread. Her eyes were narrowed, and she looked vindictive enough to charge him with a sword. But he knew she would never be so open about her revenge. She would retaliate in secret, under the cover of darkness. She would hire someone to do her dirty work while imagining she was keeping her hands spotlessly clean. He was certain she was even now making those plans. If he knew her, she would hire someone capable of getting the job done, someone as malicious as she was herself. But not McMurdo. He was in the dungeon.