"It would appear so."
Stefan should have been delighted to have found his grandfather, but he wasn't. Instead he became even more enraged. "Ye have enslaved yer own grandson."
His words bit into the old man's very soul and the color drained out his face. "I dinna know."
"All the slaves are someone's grandson."
"But they are rogues. Slavery be their punishment."
"If it pleases ye to believe it."
"They are not rogues?"
"We are not allowed to speak, remember? If they are rogues, they have more than paid the price for their crimes. Produce the accusers who say differently."
Limond hung his head. "I cannae."
"Then ye must set them free. Yer castle be hopeless and ye have no more use for them."
"But I have paid…"
"Ye have paid?" Stefan's voice was getting louder and he didn't care. "How many nights have ye gone to bed in so much pain ye could not sleep? How many nights have ye laid awake wondering if the lass ye love had chosen another? These lads think of nothing else. They have paid a far higher price for yer castle than ye ever could. Free them and do it today."
"Ye dare command me?"
"Someone must. Ye may be my flesh and blood but ye have become a hardened man with no soul. Murdina remembers ye as a dear father who filled their lives with love and laughter. She said…"
"And was it not yer father who took them…and all the love and laughter with them?"
He was right. Stefan closed his eyes and could not think of anything else to say.
"Yer grandmother passed the very night they were taken. 'Tis what killed all my laughter."
Stefan said it so softly he barely heard the words himself. "Being slave to ye has killed mine."
They seemed to be at an impasse and neither of them knew what to do about it. Finally, Limond got a good look at Stefan's worn clothing and untrimmed hair. "Ye will bathe upstairs in a warm bath and ye will wear the colors o' yer true clan."
"I will not be yer grandson until ye agree to free the slaves. If ye sell them, ye will sell me as well."