Betrayed (36 page)

The king opened his mouth with the full intent to order Fiona's arrest, but in the shadow of his throne his cousin, Ninian Stewart, said softly, “She is a woman with three bairns, one new and at her breast. She would make a magnificent martyr, cousin. The highlands would be aflame for years to come. Let her go.”

The king's mouth snapped shut audibly.

There was another within the room who, shocked, had also recognized Fiona. Hamish Stewart in a show of family loyalty had accompanied his cousin north. He had known Fiona instantly. Her skirmish with the king had been more than it seemed to the watching court. Slipping from the hall, he hurried after the retreating clanswomen, catching one by the arm, and asking her, “Who was the woman to beard the king, lady?”

“’Twas The MacDonald of Nairn's wife, sir,” the woman replied, pulling away from his grasp to dash after her companions.

Hamish Stewart was amazed. How had Fiona Hay become The MacDonald of Nairn's wife? He would have sworn she would have moved heaven and earth to return home to Brae and Black Angus. Why had she not? Hamish Stewart followed the clanswomen outside,
where a roar of disapproval greeted the news that their chieftains were imprisoned on the king's orders. The highlanders moved back from the castle grounds to their encampment just up the river. Hamish Stewart followed along at a discreet distance. He had to find Fiona. He had to know what had happened.

Hamish Stewart walked slowly through the highland encampment. Already the men were gathering about the fires, not certain what they should do. Hamish knew the Lord of the Isles’ pavilion would be in the very center of the camp and he hoped that the tent housing The MacDonald of Nairn would be nearby. Finally, as he sighted the lord's pavilion, he stopped a young clansman, asking him, “Can ye direct me to the tent of The MacDonald of Nairn, lad?”

“What would ye be wanting with him?” the young man asked. “Have ye not heard? Nairn, the lord himself, and all the others who went into the hall to pledge their good faith to James Stewart, were arrested by that king.” He spat scornfully. “’Twas a craven act!”

“I am kin to Nairn's wife,” Hamish told the clansman smoothly “I wish to offer her my aid should she need it.”

“Nairn's wife? A courageous woman,” said the young man. “My mother says she spoke out verra bravely and to the king's face in the hall, but he insulted her, calling her a cattle thief and a whore. ’Tis what all those south of the Tay think of us, damn them! They are not true Scots, with their Anglicized speech and their English wives.”

Hamish nodded in apparent agreement. He had spoken in the Gaelic language of the highlands to the
clansman, and the plaid he wore was the ancient Stewart plaid, a mix of deep blue, black, and green with a thin red stripe that was similar to several of the northern clans’ colors. “Ye know where my kinswoman is?” he gently prodded the young man.

“Oh, aye,” came the reply. “That tent, next to the lord's great pavilion, is Nairn's.”

Thanking him, Hamish Stewart walked over to it, lifted the flap, and entered the living space. A tall clansman came forward.

“My lord?”

“Is this the tent of The MacDonald of Nairn?”

“Who would know?” demanded the man.

“I am Hamish Stewart, a friend of his wife's.”

“I have never seen ye before,” Roderick Dhu said suspiciously.

“Nor have I seen ye. Tell yer mistress that I wish to see her, that I saw her in the hall this day and bring news of her sisters, Jeannie and Morag Hay.”

“’Tis all right, Roddy,” Fiona said, stepping forth from behind a curtain that separated the living space from the bed space. “How are ye, Hamish? ’Tis been a long time.”

“What happened?”
‘was all he could say. The promise she had shown as a young girl had been more than fulfilled. Fiona was an absolutely beautiful woman with a calm assurance he never would have imagined she could possess. When she had spoken out so boldly in the hall this morning, he had actually felt a swell of pride.

“Sit down, Hamish,” she told him. “Ye look as if ye have seen a ghostie. Roderick Dhu, fetch some wine for Lord Stewart. Then tell Nelly to keep Moire Rose amused. I would speak with my old friend privately.”

The tall clansman nodded and went off to do her bidding.

Fiona put a finger to her lips. Then she said in deceptively quiet tones, “Tell me of my sisters, my lord. Are they well?”

“Jeannie has finally wed with Jamie-boy, just last year,” he said, trying to keep his voice from betraying his excitement. “She is with bairn. ‘Twill be born in early winter.”

“’Tis past time, for Jeannie is sixteen now,” Fiona noted. “I am happy for her. I know how much she loves her Jamie-boy. Is he good to her, my lord? It would break my heart if ‘twere not so.”

“She has him wrapped quite securely about her little finger, Fiona Hay,” Hamish Stewart said with a small chuckle.

“And my Morag? Have ye found a husband for her?”

“She and my son have taken to each other,” he replied. “Like all the Hay women, she seems to hold a fascination for the gentlemen.”

“And Janet? She is well? Ah, Roderick Dhu, here ye are. Set the tray down, then leave us.”

The clansman obeyed her, albeit reluctantly, but when he had slipped behind the curtain, Nelly said to him excitedly, “’Tis Hamish Stewart! What is he doing here?”

“Ye know him?” Roderick Dhu was surprised.

“Of course,” Nelly said pertly. “He comes from near the place where I was born, Roddy. How did he know we were here, I wonder.”

“He said he had seen our lady in the hall today,” Roderick Dhu told the girl. “Be he a good man?”

“Aye!” Nelly averred. “Perhaps he can help our lord. He is distantly related to the king. That is why I
think he has come to Inverness. He would want to offer a show of support for his kinsman.”

“Where is Moire Rose?” Roderick Dhu asked.

“The old woman is asleep. This morning was too much of a shock for her. She was not a good mother, I know, but she loves our master with all her heart. She is verra frightened for him. ’Tis better she lie in her bed and rest until we know what we are to do.”

Fiona popped her head through the curtain. “Lord Stewart and I are going to walk by the river” she said. Then she was gone.

“Let her be,” Nelly said, putting a restraining hand on her husband-to-be's strong arm. “There is nothing amiss. Lord Stewart is like a brother to my lady. He is the first of her old friends she has
seen
since she came north with our lord. She will want to explain to him in private how this all came to be.”

Fiona led Hamish Stewart from the encampment to a narrow path that ran along the river Ness. Here and there the river had cut away a tiny portion of the land, making little islands that were connected to the main shore by rustic wooden bridges. It was to one of these small islands that Fiona took her companion. Making certain that there was no one else upon the small spot of land, they sat down upon an outcropping facing the shore.

“Now Hamish,” she said to him, “I shall tell ye everything, but listen closely, for I must, of necessity, keep my voice low. ‘Twould not do for anyone else to hear this tale. Even Nairn knows nothing at all.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing. I am Colin MacDonald's wife,” Fiona told him. “I am a mother three times. My son is three and is called Alastair. We have a daughter, Mary, who will be two in September, and a daughter, Johanna, who
was born in March.” Then she went on to explain everything that had happened to her in careful detail since that morning she had left Scone Palace on the road to Brae. She spoke calmly, but he could see the vestiges of pain in her eyes that her soft voice tried to conceal.

Hamish Stewart listened, and when she had finished he took her hands in his. “Ye did what ye had to do, lassie. I am ashamed that my cousin James is so determined to rule all of Scotland that he would have forced a woman to his secret service. I realize, however, that ye dared not refuse him. If only Angus had taken ye home before he hurried off to England to fetch the queen's cousin.”

“But the king was determined Angus wed with Mistress Williams,” Fiona said. “He said he and the queen wanted to bind Angus closer to them. If I had been at Brae, he would have found a way for The MacDonald to steal me away from there, and good Brae people might have been killed or hurt. It was better this way, I think. No one was really hurt, and certainly as husband to the queen's cousin, Angus stands high in the king's favor. Even more so than before. I did not see him in the hall this morning, and I will admit to ye that I was relieved, but where is he, my lord? I would have thought he would have accompanied the king to the gathering here in Inverness.”

“He is in England on king's business,” Hamish Stewart said. Why on earth did Fiona believe Angus was wed to Mistress Elizabeth? She had no idea that they had searched high and low for her that autumn and the following spring when the trees began to bud, even before the snow was off the tops of the bens. Aye, they had sought for her, but had been unable to find any trace of her. It was finally decided that she had been murdered along with Nelly and buried in some
unmarked grave deep in the bens. In his grief Angus Gordon had remained in England as the king's representative. He had not been back to Brae in almost two years.

And now, he, Hamish Stewart, possessed the answer to the riddle that had plagued them all, yet he would be unable to tell anyone. Fiona was married, possibly even happily. She had children. To tell her that Angus Gordon was not wed to Elizabeth Williams, that he lived in self-imposed exile with his broken heart would serve no purpose. Neither would telling Angus that Fiona yet lived, another man's wife and the mother of his three bairns. “Would ye have me tell yer sisters that ye are alive and content, Fiona?” he asked her. “Ye are content?”

“Aye,” she said softly. Then, “Do not tell Jeannie and Morag, Hamish. They could not keep the secret that I know ye can. I ask but one thing of ye, though. From time to time will ye send me news of my sisters? Anne, Elsbeth, and Margery, too, if ye hear anything”

“I will, Fiona,” he said, and then he turned his head sharply at the sound of a small child's voice calling.

“Mama!
Mama!’
A little lad came into view upon the riverbank.

‘Jesu!” Fiona swore, jumping up. “He has gotten away from his nurse, and Nelly, too. Alastair! Stay where ye are, or I will take a birch switch to yer bottom, laddie!”

The child heeded her not, however, and raced across the little wooden bridge to fling himself proudly into her arms. “I found ye, Mama,” he said triumphantly.

“Yer a bad bairn,” she scolded him, “to run away from nursie and Nelly. They will be frantic looking for ye.” She turned to Lord Stewart. “I must get him back quickly else they all have a fit.”

Hamish Stewart was staring at the boy.
“Jesu!”
he
said, seeing his brother-in-law, Angus Gordon, in the lad's small face.

Fiona held up a warning hand and spoke to him in the Scots-English dialect she knew her son would not understand. “Ye can say nothing to him, Hamish. When the king forced me to play this game, I was not certain if I was with his bairn. I feared if I was not and cried off with that excuse, he would punish Angus.”

“But MacDonald?”

“He believes my son is his son. I will not tell him otherwise for my bairn's sake. Don't look so shocked. Brae's wife will certainly give him an heir if she has not already. He does not need my laddie. Now, I must go. Farewell, Hamish Stewart. ‘Twas verra good to see ye again.” Then, taking her son by the hand, Fiona departed the small island for the shore, soon disappearing amid the trees along the riverbank.

Hamish Stewart remained sitting upon the outcropping. He needed time to absorb everything she had told him. Had he not heard the story from her own lips, Hamish would not have believed his cousin the king so ruthless. He wondered what would happen to the remaining chieftains the king had imprisoned that day. He did not have long to wait.

The next week the king called for all the clansmen and women who had gathered at Inverness to attend his parliament, where he intended to render his judgment upon their chieftains. The highlanders came fearfully, for a rhyme, attributed to the king, had been making the rounds all the week long regarding the fate of the Lord of the Isles and his allies.

To donjon tower let this rude troop be driven,

For death they merit, by the cross of heaven.

The MacRuries and the MacArthurs had already left the gathering to carry home the decapitated bodies
of their chieftains. So as not to appear to be showing favoritism to any of the clans, for MacRurie had been a cousin of Alexander MacDonald, the king also hanged in that week James Campbell, who had been responsible for the murder of the current Lord of the Isles’ cousin, Ian MacDonald.

To everyone's surprise and relief, the king fined the chieftains and released them. A lecture, as well as a fine, however, was saved for Alexander MacDonald, Lord of the Isles. “I canna rule Scotland properly if ye are always rousing the north for one imagined offense or another, my lord,” the king said severely. “There can be but one king in this land,
and I am he,
by the grace of God, anointed with the holy oil, in Holy Mother Church. Ye will cease yer turbulent lawlessness against me, my lord, or I will be forced to take arms against ye. I don't want to do that, for war is expensive and a waste of good lives. But be warned, Alexander MacDonald, if ye will not desist in yer proud ways, I will make ye do so. Now, sir, ye may pledge me yer fealty before this parliament, and then may yer friends and allies do so, too.”