CHAPTER 23
Silence reignedover the councilmen’s table.
Evander sat back in his seat, his jaw closed like a trap, and let the quiet fester.
They would all be wondering why he’d called the meeting. No, first they’d wonderwhohad called the meeting, as any councilman could request a meeting. As they whispered to each other on the way here, they’d gradually realize that it wasn’t one of their number who’d called the meeting. No, it was Evander.
And that cannae be good.
He could almost hear them saying it now, their voices sibilant with worry.
It was generally known amongst lairds that their councilmen were corrupt in some way or another. Usually, it was little things, like skimming a little extra money from taxes, taking amodest bribe to look favorably one way or another, or sitting in Evander’s seat when he wasn’t around.
None of that was dangerously troublesome, so long as they didn’t allow it to become a habit. In short, everybody at that table had an agenda. They had at least one rival and ally besides them, a person they’d be happy to spite at any cost.
But every now and then, a good, upright laird would clean out his council. He’d throw out the corrupt men and bring in new moral ones, and that would last for a little while.
Right now, every man in front of Evander was uneasily anticipating this clear-out and his own demise. Maybe they were recounting their sins: accepting a bribe from a farmer not to collect as much tax as he ought to be paying, harassing a servant with the full knowledge that she wouldn’t risk her position by complaining, or quietly imagining themselves as lairds.
Oh, aye, I ken all yer secrets,Evander wanted to say.
He allowed himself a thin, grim smile.
Come on, lads. Who’s going to break first? It’s been a full five minutes of silence here. Ye must be dying to ken what’s going on.
He glanced briefly over his shoulder, checking that Fergus stood behind him, arms folded, at attention. Fergus met his eyes and inclined his head.
Andrew Kane spoke first. His seat was directly beside Evander’s. Leaning forward, he tapped Evander’s forearm gently.
“Me Laird, was it ye who called this meeting?”
“Aye, it was me, Andrew.”
“That seems serious.”
“It is serious.” Evander nodded. “Far more serious than we realize, I’m afraid.”
Slowly, he rose to his feet, leaning forward and steepling his fingers against the table. He let his gaze rake across the men, all staring silently and worriedly up at him.
“I’m afraid this meeting has a deep, dangerous problem to discuss,” he stated, meeting each man’s eyes. “Treason.”
Unease rippled through the table. His councilmen exchanged quick, uncertain glances, shifting in their seats.
“Do ye mean Mason Langton?” queried one man.
“In a way.” Evander nodded again.
A collective exhalation swept around the table. His councilmen glanced at each other, suppressing smiles of relief.
“I’m afraid it’s obvious to me, me Laird,” Andrew stated. “The man is a traitor and must be executed. We have to send a message.”
“Send a message,” Evander repeated thoughtfully. “Ye have given this some thought, have ye nae?”
Andrew blinked, obviously thinking that he’d missed something. “Well, aye, me Laird. Of course I have.”
Evander bit his lip, taking his time before speaking again.
“I’m afraid that the treachery I am speaking of is closer to home,” he said, pushing away from the table.
