Betrayed (18 page)

“Aye, my liege, I would certainly agree with ye,” Fiona said, wondering what this could possibly be about.

“I have agents in the north watching and sending me word as to the activities of the Lord of the Isles and his allies,” the king said, “but I need someone to observe them from a closer range. I need ye, Mistress Hay.”

“Me?”
Fiona was astounded. “How on earth could I possibly help ye in the north, my liege?”

“The MacDonald of Nairn is verra taken with ye, Mistress Hay. He is, as ye know, Alexander MacDonald's bastard half-brother. Nairn is devoted to him, and the Lord of the Isles to his brother as well. If ye were with Nairn, ye would be privy to what was happening, and could share yer information with me. Yer verra fair, Mistress Hay. Were I not a happily married man meself, I should be tempted by ye.”

Fiona was dumbfounded by the king's words, but she was also suddenly afraid. “I hope to wed with my Black Angus one day,” she tried to explain calmly to the king. “What ye are asking me is impossible. Surely ye see that?” Her heart was hammering, for James Stewart didn't look at all as if he was sympathetic to her view.

“Do ye know why I sent the laird to England?” the king asked her.

“Why, to fetch the queen's cousin,” Fiona replied. Everyone knew that.

The king nodded. “The queen is verra fond of her cousin, Elizabeth. She would like her to remain in Scotland, which means Mistress Williams must have a Scots
husband.” He let his words sink into Fiona's consciousness before continuing. “The lady has a small but respectable dower. A wee bit of plate, some gold coins, and a nice flock of sheep. As an orphan she must depend upon her relations to find her a good husband. She is a tender virgin of just the right age for matrimony. Do ye understand what I am saying, Mistress Hay?”

Fiona swallowed a gulp of wine to calm herself.

“Mistress Williams has put herself in the loving care of myself and the queen, and trusts us to settle this matter of a husband for her. She will accept our decision in the matter. Angus Gordon is my friend, and a good man. We would bind him closer to us.”

For a long moment Fiona could not speak, she was so shocked. At last she was able to utter, although her throat felt constricted with her effort, “Are ye saying that ye will not allow me to wed with my Black Angus, my liege?” She could hear her heart in her ears now.

“Mistress Hay,” James Stewart answered her, “ye are a woman who always puts the good of others ahead of yer own desires.
Ye
risked yer life to dower yer sisters when ye dared to steal Angus Gordon's cattle. When ye were finally caught, ye paid yer debt with the most precious possession a lass has, yer maidenhead.
Ye
have seen also to the welfare of yer two youngest sisters. Jean, I am told, is to marry the laird's brother, and the littlest girl—Morag, is it?—has a fine dowry and will be well matched when she is old enough.

“Yer a woman who understands the realities of life. I need a united Scotland. I canna have it unless the northern clans are loyal, and they will not be loyal until The MacDonald of the Isles is faithful to me, or I destroy him. I don't know yet what I must do to bring this chieftain to heel, but having an agent near him will give
me a greater advantage than he can possibly have over me.” The king paused a moment to give her time to absorb all of his words. Then he continued.

“Ye are my advantage over the Lord of the Isles, Fiona Hay. Nairn's desire for ye is heaven-sent. Help me! Were ye not one of my first adherents even before we met? I cannot prevent ye from returning to Brae, but what would yer place be there now? Only think of the lives that could be saved by my knowing in advance what tack the Lord of the Isles will take. The agents I have planted in the north canna gain information like that. They can but sift the gossip for me. Only someone like you can learn what I need to know. A man's pillow talk is oft times valuable. Will ye not sacrifice yerself for Scotland? Think of yer sisters, Mistress Hay.”

Those four words were innocent enough, Fiona thought, but she heard the menace in them. She thought of Anne and Elsbeth and Margery with their proud but powerless highland husbands, more apt than not to side with the Lord of the Isles in any dispute with James Stewart. She thought of Jean's joy over her betrothal to James Gordon, and little Morag, who would one day want her share of happiness, too. This king, so capable of forfeiting Fiona's future for his country's good, was capable of
anything.
Why had she not seen it before? Then she thought of Angus Gordon, the only man she would ever love. He deserved better than a Hay of the Ben for a wife. Worse, she had brought him nothing but responsibilities.

Elizabeth Williams would bring a dowry worthy of Angus Gordon. And when she saw how loving and gentle he could be, she would surely fall in love with him. And Angus? In time, and with the love of Mistress Williams, he would forget the Hay of the Ben, the brazen daughter of Dugald Hay. The king said she might make
the choice, but he also made it impossible for her to do anything but obey his will. She could feel her heart breaking.

“Mistress Hay?” The king wanted her obedient attention.

“It is not necessary for ye to couch yer wishes in pretty terms, my liege,” Fiona said sharply. “Ye need a spy who can gain the information ye need by whoring for ye. I am not a whore, and ye know it, yet ye would still betray yer best friend to gain yer own ends, James Stewart.

“Verra well. Ye give me no real choice in the matter, but if it salves yer conscience to believe ye do, I canna prevent ye, can I? Since I am not skilled in such matters as spying and whoring, ye will have to give me careful instructions, for I eventually intend returning alive from The MacDonald's lair.
And, of course, there is the matter of payment.
If ye would destroy my future, ye must pay verra dearly for it,
my liege.”
She looked directly at him.

Her eyes were like green ice. They made James Stewart exceedingly uncomfortable. But if she was hard, he was yet harder. “Yer to have an escort of a dozen of my men-at-arms,” he began, and she nodded. “Somewhere along yer route, and I suspect it will be today or early tomorrow, Nairn and his men will attack yer wee train. The men-at-arms have been ordered to flee as quickly as possible, leaving ye and yer maid helpless. Nairn will, of course, carry ye off into the highlands.”

“Ye are certain of this?” Fiona said softly. “Perhaps all he wants to do is have a quick coupling. Will he not be suspicious if my escort flees so quickly? And how can ye be certain Nairn will kidnap me,
my liege?
If ye have not arranged this, too, then yer plan may well be futile.”

“Nairn has been carefully goaded into rashness over the last few days,” the king said. “His desire for ye has not been abated one whit. He will abduct ye. He would, I am told, make ye his wife. Bride-stealing is an old Scots custom, as ye well know, Fiona Hay. Did not yer father steal yer mother?”

“Aye, and she spent the rest of her life in misery because of it,” Fiona said angrily. “She hated Dugald Hay as I shall hate The MacDonald of Nairn, but unlike my mam, I shall not spend my life in suffering. I will whore for ye, James Stewart, and I will spy for ye, but I will not marry a man I don't love!”

“That, Fiona Hay, is up to ye” the king said dryly. “It makes no difference to me if ye wed him or not.”

“Now,” she said briskly, “what am I to be paid for this great sacrifice I am making for Scotland,
my liege?
.”

“What do ye want?”

What did she want?
She wanted this conversation to have never taken place, she thought bitterly. She wanted to be on the road to Brae.
What did she want?
What was her happiness worth? She drew a deep breath. “I want a thousand gold merks.”

“Five hundred silver,” he countered, and she nodded.

“And two dozen head of cattle, and a virile bull,” she continued.

“A dozen,” the king said.

Fiona shook her head. “No! Two dozen and a virile bull,
my liege.
And, without Angus Gordon's knowledge, I want my tower house on Ben Hay repaired, put in habitable condition again for when I
return, for I will return.
I will have no other home then.”

“Do ye mean to live alone up on yer ben again?” he asked in surprise.

“Until Black Angus brought me to Brae, the tower
house on Ben Hay was where I lived. No one knew we were there. Now my sisters are wed or have plans to wed. I must have some place to lie my head. I certainly canna go back to Brae and ask for shelter, nor do I desire to live with my sisters and their husbands. As chieftain of the Hays of the Ben, that house is mine. See it is made ready for my return. I will send ye a message when I am there. It is then ye will deliver my two dozen cattle and the virile bull. The five hundred merks is to be deposited in my name this day with Martin the Goldsmith on the High Street in Perth.”

“What if ye don't return, Mistress Hay?” “Then ye are saved the cattle and the bull, my lord, but the merks are to be divided equally among my five sisters, and my serving wench, Nelly, if she survives me. I will trust ye, my lord, to see to it. Now, how am I to get any information to ye that I gather?”

The king carefully explained to Fiona that he had a small network of male spies: a priest named Ninian; a cloth and ribbon merchant in Inverness, Master Malcolm; an Irish minstrel, Borra O'Neil, who earned his keep wandering from hall to hall in the highlands entertaining the clansmen; a tinker, Drysdale, who with his wife and blind son meandered about the north repairing the goodwives’ pots and other tin utensils while gathering information. Giving detailed descriptions along with the names, the king said, “These four will be your contacts, Fiona Hay. They will be told of your coming. The merchant will be nearest to ye. The priest you are likely to meet on Islay, should ye go there, but the tinker and the minstrel will probably come to Nairn to seek ye out from time to time. Make them show ye this coin.” He proffered a small silver piece, which she took. “Only six of these were struck when I was crowned this summer past.
Ye
now have one, I have
one, and the other four are in the highlands with my agents.”

“How did ye set up a network of spies so quickly?” she asked him, suspicious.

“My uncle always had a wee group of agents working for him,” James Stewart said. “He didn't trust his brother, the Wolf of Badenoch. I simply picked these four from among the others, who are still useful to me, but the four I have named are invaluable. Can ye write?”

“Aye, I can,” she answered him. “Black Angus taught me.”

There was that twinge of guilt again, but the king pushed it aside. “Commit nothing to parchment unless absolutely necessary,” he warned her. “Neither the merchant nor the minstrel ever forget anything told them, and the tinker has a unique memory in that he can repeat exactly what is uttered in his presence six months later. It is an interesting talent, for unlike the others whose business it is to remember, the tinker is a simple man, I have been told.”

Fiona nodded. “Is there anything else I should know?”

“No,” he said.

“How long must I remain with Nairn?” A minute will be too long, she thought, forcing back the panic beginning to overwhelm her.

“Until I tell ye that ye may return, Fiona Hay” the king said.

“A year?” she asked him. Dear Holy Mother, not a year!

“Possibly more,” he said honestly, noting how pale she had become, and hoping that she would not swoon. Suddenly he wondered if she was strong enough to do
this, but there was no turning back now. He needed her in The MacDonald of Nairn's heart—and bed.

There was a long silence while Fiona calmed herself and gathered her strength again. “I must tell my servant, my liege. She should not have to suffer my fate if she does not want to. I canna allow it. She is a faithful, good girl, and does not deserve unkindness. May I tell her here, sire? You will want me to be discreet, I know.”

“Where is she?” the king demanded.

“Waiting for me outside, my liege,” Fiona replied.

“Get her.”

Fiona went to the door of the king's privy chamber, opened it, and called to Nelly to come in. Wide-eyed, the girl stumbled over her feet as she curtsied to the king, awestruck to be in such close proximity with James Stewart. He graciously invited her to sit, giving up his own seat to stand above the two women. Slowly, carefully, Fiona explained the situation. When she had finished, Nelly burst into tears. Understanding the girl's grief, Fiona remained silent until Nelly's tears finally abated. The king looked decidedly uncomfortable.

“Ye don't have to come with me, Nelly,” Fiona said. “But if ye return to Brae, ye must keep this secret from the laird.”

“Not come with ye?”
Nelly's tear-stained look was indignant. “Of course I'll go with ye, Mistress Fiona! I would not be doing my duty if I deserted ye. I dare not go back to Brae without ye. Me aunt would have me hide; then she would weasel yer secret from me. Ye know she would!”

“Ye could stay behind in the queen's service, Nelly. The king could arrange such an appointment for ye, could ye not, my liege?” He nodded, and Fiona continued, “Yer aunt would not be able to get to ye then. Besides,
she would be so proud that ye were serving the queen. She would suspect nothing and consider ye fortunate to have escaped being kidnapped along with me. I love ye, and I know ye love me, but I would not think badly of ye if ye decided to stay behind.”

Nelly's eyes filled with tears again. “Mistress Fiona, ye'll need me, and I will not leave ye,” she said,
“even for a queen!’

“Then it is settled,” the king said briskly. “The sun is already up, Fiona Hay.
Ye
had best be on yer way. Scotland will be all the better for yer sacrifice. The merks will be deposited today, and the rest of our arrangement will be put into effect as well. May God and his Blessed Mother watch over ye, lady”

“How do ye dare to invoke God and his Mother under these circumstances?” Fiona's voice had a hard edge to it. Picking up her cloak, she nodded to Nelly, and the two women left the king's privy chamber.