Betrayed (12 page)

The nobility laughed scornfully. Most were content with things the way they were, yet the more responsible among them realized that the violence and disorder would only lead to more of the same.

In an odd turn of events, Walter, the Earl of Atholl, suddenly decided he would have to involve himself personally in a negotiation to bring home his nephew, the rightful king of Scotland. Yes, James Stewart was a man full-grown, and it was past time for him to return. Further, the Protector of England was said to be inclined to be reasonable because he was at war with France and needed to have peace on the northern border. The time was propitious. Walter formed a delegation to go to England and negotiate for the release of James Stewart.

It was a small delegation, the most important members of it being, of course, Walter himself; John, the Red Stewart of Dundonald; and the bishop of St. Andrews. Arriving in England, the Scots discovered first that James Stewart was no weakling, as his father had been, and fully intended to rule Scotland with an iron hand. Their second surprise came when they learned the king had chosen a bride, Lady Joan Beaufort, the infant English king's older cousin, and a granddaughter of the formidable John of Gaunt. James Stewart expected his delegation to arrange not only his release but his marriage contract as well.

It took almost a year and a half to bring the negotiations to complete fruition. The king of Scotland would return home; his people would pay sixty thousand merks over a period of six years to the English as
remuneration for James Stewart's keep while he had lived in England. Further, the Scots promised to cease giving aid to the French against the English; Lady Joan Beaufort would become Scotland's queen, her dowry to be a quarter of the sum due the English from the Scots.

The marriage was celebrated at St. Mary Overy in Southwark on the thirteenth of February in the year of our lord fourteen hundred and twenty-four. On the twenty-eighth day of March the royal Scots train set off northward, crossing over the border on the ninth day of April. To everyone's surprise the rugged road was lined upon both sides with men, women, and children, all eager for a glimpse of their long-lost king and his pretty new queen. They cheered James Stewart until they were hoarse. Here and there one of the border bonnet lairds would step forward to shout out his fealty as the king rode by.

At Melrose Abbey James Stewart met up with his cousin Murdoch, Duke of Albany, who had come with his sons, Robert, Alexander, James, and the other Walter Stewart. With them were as many of Scotland's noble families as could reach Melrose in time for the king's coming. Here the English departed, leaving James Stewart safely on his own territory for the first time in eighteen years.

Duke Murdoch came forward and knelt before the king, who sat upon his horse. “Let me be the first to swear ye fealty, cousin,” he said.

The king looked down. His amber eyes were unreadable. “Ye are tardy with yer allegiance,
cousin,”
he said coldly. “The delegation ye sent swore me fealty before the negotiations for my release even began.”

Rebuked, the Duke of Albany flushed, then pulled himself to his feet. “I am happy to see ye home, my
liege,” he said, knowing even as he spoke that he and his family would not find favor with this king.

James Stewart turned away from his cousin. He would never forgive the dukes of Albany for the irreparable harm they had done his branch of the family, and he could not forget that they had let him languish in England for almost twenty years while they usurped his authority.

“I have brought home my own executioner,” the Duke of Albany said quietly.

“’Tis bad, I will admit,” his father-in-law, the Earl of Lennox, said, “but yer family. He has much to do. His anger will surely cool. In the meantime, be as much help to him as ye can be.”

Duke Murdoch nodded, watching the king, who had not bothered to wait to be introduced to his four sons, moving on instead to the others who had come to greet him. Some were impressed by James Stewart's air of strength and determination. Others were not at all pleased, especially when he said, “If God grant me life, though it be but the life of a dog, there shall be no place in my realm where the key shall not keep the castle, and the bracken bush the cow through all Scotland.” In that short sentence he told the Scots nobility that he intended reigning as a king should reign.

As the king moved among the nobility, his eyes suddenly met those of Angus Gordon. A wide smile split James Stewart's face, and he pushed aside those bodies separating him from the laird of Loch Brae. “Angus! Angus Gordon!” He embraced his old friend warmly. “’Tis good to see you again, and come down from your beloved Brae to greet me.”

Angus knelt and kissed the king's hand, only to be pulled to his feet again by his liege lord. “I am flattered that you remembered me, my lord,” he said modestly.
“It has been many years since we last saw each other, but no one could keep me from coming to greet you. Home at last, thank God!”

“You will stay in Perth with me,” the king said. “I will need one man near me who is truthful.”

The laird flushed slightly. “I have brought my mistress with me, my lord,” he said low.

“She is welcome, too,” the king replied. “Both Ramsey and Ben Duff brought theirs to keep them company in England. Grey even wed his lady just before I married my Joan. Is your lass with you?”

Angus drew Fiona forward, and she curtsied low to James Stewart. “This is Mistress Fiona Hay, chieftain of the Hays of the Ben, my neighbors, sire.”

“Mistress Hay, I greet you,” the king said, raising Fiona to her feet.

“And I you, my liege lord,” Fiona said quietly, her heart hammering with excitement. “I hope you will allow me to pledge you my loyalty.”

“And that of your clan, too, I hope,” the king replied.

Fiona chuckled. “I fear, my liege, that I have few clansmen.”

“How many?” His amber eyes were amused.

“There are but five of us, my liege. Myself, my two little sisters, and our two servants,” Fiona told him.

“Five loyal Scots is as good a start as any king can have,” James Stewart said gravely, and then he bowed gallantly to her.

“You have pleased him,” Angus Gordon told her when the king had left them to greet the others.

The royal party moved on past Edinburgh to the capital, Perth. The young queen was charmed by the raw beauty of the land. As they moved farther north, the terrain became more mountainous. They crossed
many swift-running streams and traveled by and around a number of lakes.

They came to the town of Perth on the twentieth of April. The king and his queen would stay at Scone Palace on the grounds of the abbey.

“I love ye, my liege,” Angus Gordon said when the king asked him to join his court, “but I canna do so, for there are matters at Loch Brae to which I must attend.”

“Stay with us for the coronation, Black Angus,” the king said, “and afterward I will ask ye to but bide with me a little while. In the autumn ye will go home, and I will come with ye to hunt the red deer.”

It was a request, but it was also a command. The laird of Loch Brae bowed his head in submission to the king's will.

“’Tis not for very long,” Fiona comforted her lover that evening as they lay abed. She stroked his dark head resting upon her naked breasts. “’Twill be verra exciting to see a king crowned, Angus. We're not likely to have such an opportunity again.”

“Ye'll need a new gown.”

“Nay,” she said, “the gowns I have are barely worn, and my surcoats are in good condition.”

“A white undergown,” he said, “and the gold-and-white brocade surcoat must be trimmed in white fur.”

“As you wish, but I will not wear one of those silly headdresses,” Fiona said. “Imagine putting horns upon a woman's head. It makes a female look like a cow with a veil.” She sighed as he began to caress her.

“I can understand yer aversion to cattle these days, lassie,” he teased her, raising his head just enough so he might kiss her now plump breasts. “Why, ye've become almost respectable.”

She gave the dark hair a severe yank, and he swore softly, half laughing. “Yer a villain, Black Angus,”
she said, “despite yer close association to our king. Will I never be free of this debt to ye?”

“Never!” he said fiercely, pulling her into his arms and kissing her hard. “I will not let ye go, Fiona Hay. Ye are mine!”

Hamish Stewart and his wife, Janet, came down from the hills to attend the king's coronation. They brought with them young James Gordon and Jean Hay. The sisters embraced warmly; then Fiona stepped back to look at Jeannie, who was now twelve. Her sister had grown taller and had the beginnings of breasts, but in one thing she had not changed. She was still determined to marry James Gordon.

“Why, Jeannie lass, ye've grown quite fair,” the laird complimented the girl. “Ye'll soon be a woman, I can see.”

“Then match me with my Jamie-boy,” Jean Hay said boldly.

The object of her affections groaned and rolled his eyes, driving the others to laughter.

“It would be a good match for ye both,” Angus Gordon said. “I have always thought it, brother. Perhaps the time has come to arrange it before some other swain sweeps Jeannie off her feet and takes her away from ye.” He smiled.

“She's too young to bed,” James Gordon grumbled. “I want a wife I can bed. Besides, she has no lands of her own, and I want a wife with property, Angus. Surely ye can understand that.”

Janet Gordon Stewart looked to her elder brother but was uncharacteristically silent.

“I'll give ye some of the lands in the glen,” the laird said.

“For Jeannie Hay? ”was
the surprised response.

“They were her grandfather's lands, Jamie-boy,” the laird replied. “’Tis only right she have some of them as a dower portion.”

“She's still too young to bed,” James Gordon said.

“She will not be in two years, brother,” Angus Gordon said. “Ye can wait that long, for yer but a lad yerself. Where else will ye get such a good offer? Yer the youngest son, and have little to offer a lass of greater property but yer pretty face, Jamie. No father would want a lad with so little to offer, despite his pretty face.”

Jean Hay held her breath, not daring even to move.

“Well,”James Gordon allowed, “I suppose I could wait to bed a wife. How much land in the glen, Angus?”

“We'll discuss it when we are back in Loch Brae, Jamie,” the laird said quietly, “but ’Tis agreed between us that ye will take Jean Hay to be yer wife in two years’ time.”

“Aye,” James Gordon agreed, and the two men shook hands.

“Ye may kiss me, Jamie-boy,” Jeannie Hay said grandly, her heart pounding with excitement that she would finally have the man she wanted for a husband.

James Gordon looked at the young girl. Bending, he bussed her on her rosy cheek. “Yer too young, lass, for the lips,” he told her sternly, seeing the mutinous look in her amber eyes.

Then to everyone's surprise Jeannie Hay answered meekly, “Aye, Jamie. Whatever ye say.”

“Ye could take a lesson from yer little sister, Fiona Hay,” the laird said, a twinkle in his eyes.

Fiona looked outraged, but Janet Gordon Stewart laughed aloud, and her big husband chuckled, the deep sound rumbling about the room.

“The day I become a fool over a
man!”
Fiona sputtered, “ye'll know I have lost my wits!” Then she stormed from the chamber.

“Take yer betrothed and go,” Angus Gordon said to his youngest brother, waiting until Jamie had departed with Jean Hay to look to his sister and brother-in-law. “Say yer piece, Jan, for I know ye will anyway,” the laird told her with a small chuckle.

“Yer foolishness has gone on long enough, Angus,” Janet Stewart said sternly. “When are ye going to set the day and wed with Fiona?”

“When she tells me that she loves me, sister, for to my surprise and my amazement, I seem to be in love with her, but I will not wed with a lass who does not love me,” he finished implacably.

“Nor would Fiona, with her unfortunate parents as an example, wed with a man who did not love her,” his sister answered him. “A woman needs to know her man loves her, Angus. Only then will she dare to admit to her own feelings. Remember that we women are the weaker vessels.”

“Hah!”
her brother responded, and even the patient, kindly Hamish Stewart had a difficult time remaining silent. “Most women have stronger wills than any man I have ever met,” the laird said. “When my lass tells me that she loves me, only then will I admit to her that my heart is filled with love for her.”

Janet Gordon Stewart shook her head. “God help us all, then, for both ye and Fiona are so stubborn that ye may go to yer graves without ever being wed.”