Betrayed (35 page)

“Will ye come to Inverness then, sister?” the lord asked her.

“Indeed. I would not miss it for the world. ‘Twill be a grand day when ye and James Stewart make yer peace together.”

“I have not yet decided,” Alexander MacDonald said, toying with his cup.

“Then why do ye go, and why did ye call the clans to obey the king's summons?” Fiona asked cleverly.

“I merely wish to see the man, and then I will decide.”
The lord speared a haunch of venison off a platter held out to him by an attentive servant.

Fiona laughed. “Ye lie, Alexander MacDonald. ’Tis yer pride that will not let ye admit that this king is different.”

“We shall go and see, my bonnie,” the Lord of the Isles replied, but his eyes were twinkling at her boldness. From the moment he had first met Fiona Hay he had loved her for her courage. Of all his sisters-in-law, and he had several, she was his favorite.

They set out from Nairns Craig on a bright summer morning. Once they reached the main road to Inverness, which ran through the town of Nairn and past Cawdor, the road was crowded with the clansmen headed for the gathering. Fiona rode her gelding while the Countess of Ross and Moire Rose shared a comfortable padded cart with Nelly and the children. The countryside about them was beautiful, the blue hills reflected in the blue waters of the lochs. Outside of Inverness the Lord of the Isles left them to join his own troupe of four thousand men, his ranks swollen by those of his sons: Ian, his heir; Celestine of Lochalsh; and Hugh of Sleate.

The town would not have enough room to house the clansmen, especially with the king and court there. It had been decided that they would camp outside Inverness. Great pavilions for the Lord of the Isles were set up in the center of the encampment, with smaller tents surrounding them.

In order to make a great show both to honor James Stewart and to intimidate him just a little, it had been planned that the clans would all come down from the hills surrounding the city at the same time. James Stewart watched, fascinated, from Inverness tower as the highlanders arrived, arrayed in their many colorful
plaids, silken banners flying in the wind, their pipes screeching but one tune, the MacDonald march. They covered the hillsides, their feet thumping as they entered the city, led by Alexander MacDonald, Lord of the Isles, and his powerful family. It was a great display.

“He is not shy about his position here, is he?” the king said to his uncle of Atholl.

“Ye must force him to yer will, my liege,” Atholl said grimly. “These MacDonalds always have been difficult. If ye can break them for good and all, so much the better for Scotland.”

“We will see,” the king said with a small smile. He already knew what he would do, but he had shared it with no one lest his plans be revealed to others.

Having displayed their might parading through Inverness, the clans marched to their encampment outside the town. Their servants and women were already there. The fires were blazing, the meat roasting. The Lord of the Isles had invited his younger brother of Nairn and his family to share his accommodations. They had been assigned a large tent that was divided into three rooms. Charcoal braziers were scattered about the space and would take the chill off the evening air. It had been a long day. The children were fed and put to bed with a nursemaid in one of the two sleeping spaces. Moire Rose would also share their quarters. Johanna was in her cradle in the master suite.

Roderick Dhu and Nelly, still courting, had brought food into the tent's living space from the cook fires. There was salmon, just caught that afternoon in the river Ness, which flowed outside their tents and through the town. It was broiled and served with wild cress that had been gathered from the shallows of a nearby stream along their route. And there was also beef that had been packed in salt and roasted over the fires. Bread, butter,
and cheese completed the meal for the two women, who ate together, Nairn having joined his brothers and nephews in the Lord of the Isles’ pavilion.

“What will happen tomorrow, Fiona?” her mother-in-law asked. “What is this Stewart king really like? Will he be vengeful?”

Fiona shook her head. “I don't know,” she said honestly. “I can tell ye that he is determined to rule
all
of Scotland. He will settle for no less. If he has left us alone these past few years, it was because he was busy in the lowlands, or perhaps he thought to intimidate us, or possibly both. He is a determined man.”

Moire Rose nodded. “I would see him, for I have never before seen a king of Scotland.”

“I hope ye will not be disappointed,” Fiona said. “He is not handsome. The lord and Nairn both tower over him in height but, to be fair, not in stature.”

Outside, the encampment began to quiet down. The two women sought their beds. After lifting Johanna from her cradle, Fiona nursed the sleepy child, changed her napkin, and set her back down in her cradle. Then, bathing in a small basin that Nelly had brought her, she asked her servant, “Did ye see the old woman? Is she comfortable?”

“Aye, I helped her to undress and settled her down,” Nelly said. “She ought to take a young woman in service, for she needs one. Her poor old Beathag can barely walk now, let alone come on such a trip.”

“Beathag has been with Moire Rose her entire life. I think she lives on simply because her mistress needs her,” Fiona said. “Go to bed now, Nelly. Tomorrow we'll get to see the king.”

“I have seen him,” Nelly said sourly. “I do not think much of James Stewart. I think the clans foolish to
trust him.
Ye
trusted him, and look what he did to ye, my lady.”

“Hush, Nelly, do not be angry anymore. I am content with Nairn, and we have fine bairns. What more can a woman want but a good man and children?” Fiona patted her servant comfortingly.

“Ye do not really love him, and ye have a right to love,” Nelly said.

“I do not love him like Black Angus, ’Tis true,” Fiona admitted, “but I love him in another way, and he loves me. Oh, Nelly, what if Colin MacDonald had been a brute and not the kind of man he is? Neither of us could have borne it these last three years. I have more than I ever expected to have, and ye do, too. When will ye marry Roderick Dhu? He is desperate for ye to become his wife. Ye've courted for two years.”

Nelly sighed. “I love the great gawk,” she said, “but what if one day we could go back to Brae, my lady? I could not go with ye if I were wed to my high-lander. Better I remain a maid.”

“Nelly, we will not be going back to Brae. Black Angus has wed with the queen's cousin. I would not be welcome there. I have my own husband, and ye have a chance of a good husband, too. Take it, lassie!”

Nelly bid her mistress good night and went out into the living space, where her pallet was located by a charcoal brazier.

Fiona lay down upon the bed that had been made up of fir boughs covered with a feather bed. Pulling up the fox coverlet, she fell asleep. She awoke to hear her husband swearing softly as he stumbled about in the darkness. “Colin! Ye'll waken the bairn,” she cautioned him.

The sound of her voice drew him to the bedding.
He yanked his boots off and almost fell upon her. “Ah, sweeting, there ye are,” he said, his hands fumbling to find her breasts.

“Yer drunk!” she accused him, but she couldn't help laughing softly. She had never seen him this way.

“Just a wee bit drunk” he assured her. “My brothers could not walk to their beds, and had to be carried,” he bragged, placing a wet kiss on her lips. “Jesu, yer sweet,” he muttered against her soft hair. “Do ye not love me a little bit, Fiona mine?”

“Aye,” she told him. “A wee bit, Colin MacDonald.” She shifted to find a more comfortable spot, for he was lying half across her.

He nuzzled her neck. “Ye know what I want, sweeting,” he said suggestively. His hands were caressing her gently.

“Colin,” she chided him, “ye have to go before the king in the morning. If ye don't get some sleep, yer head will ache ye something fearful, I guarantee ye. Ye'll shame us all.”

His knee was levering her thighs apart as he attempted to slip between her legs. “I'll sleep all the better and awake happier if ye'll love me, Fiona mine,” he wheedled tenderly.

“Yer worse than Alastair when he wants a shortbread,” she scolded him, but the hardness probing against the insides of her thighs was exciting. She slid her arms about his neck and drew him down. His breath was pungent with wine. “If ye fall asleep on me before ’Tis finished, Colin MacDonald,” she warned him ominously, “I swear I'll do to ye what we did to that bull calf born last year.”

His laughter was low and smoky. “When, Fiona mine,” he asked her, “when did I ever not finish what I
began?” Then he thrust into her warm body, pleasuring them until both were near unconscious with a mixture of exhaustion and contentment.

When she awoke in the early hours just before dawn, he was snoring softly by her side, his red head against her round shoulder. Fiona crept from the bed, making a great effort not to awaken him. Slipping out into the living space of the tent, she saw Roderick Dhu and Nelly curled together for warmth and companionship. Gently she shook them both.

“Wake yer master,” she told the clansman, “and get him down to the river to bathe. I will not have him before James Stewart smelling of stale wine and passion. Then bring me some hot water so I may make my own ablutions and yer master can scrape the fur from his face.”

Roderick Dhu was on his feet, nodding at her. “Aye, my lady”

“Fetch Johanna, and I'll feed her,” she instructed Nelly.

The encampment was beginning to stir. Nairn returned from the river, bleary-eyed but clean, to find his wife still nursing their daughter. For a moment he stopped to watch her, enjoying the scene. “She's got a head like mine,” he noted proudly.

“So does Mary,” Fiona reminded him, and handed the infant to Nelly to return to her cradle. “Put on a clean shirt,” she instructed her husband. “I'll fetch ye some mulled wine and bread.”

The king had called the gathering for ten in the morning. The Lord of the Isles and the other chieftains of the highland clans were invited into the king's hall along with the Countess of Ross. They came to the monarch's castle, flags flying, pipes playing. The castle was set by the edge of the river Ness, a broad blue
waterway that flowed into Beauly Loch, and finally Moray Firth. Only the lord, his mother, the clan chieftains, and their women were invited into the king's hall. The clansmen were asked politely to remain outside as neither the castle nor its hall was big enough to contain them all.

Led by the Lord of the Isles, the men entered the hall. It was a good-sized room of gray stone but had no windows. At its far end was a dais with a gilded wooden canopy, beneath which the king sat upon a throne. He watched through narrowed eyes as the high-landers made their way toward him. Although he had never met the Lord of the Isles, he recognized him immediately, not simply because he preceded all the others but because he looked like a dark-haired version of The MacDonald of Nairn, who strode behind him.

Alexander MacDonald bowed before King James. “My lord,” he said, “I welcome ye to the highlands. May yer stay be a pleasant one, and may ye return often here.” It was a gracious speech, graciously spoken.

The king stood, looking down on all of them.
“Ye
are late in coming to render me yer obedience, my lords.”

“We but awaited yer call to this gathering, my lord,” the Lord of the Isles replied. “Ye were slow in issuing it.”

“I am told there are some among ye who would have my life,” the king answered. “It was necessary that I decide what course of action I would take in the face of such perfidy.” Raising his hand, he signaled his guards. Alexander MacRurie and Ian MacArthur were hauled forth from the ranks of their companions and flung at the foot of the dais. “Ye two spoke on my murder. I canna trust ye. Yer deaths will provide an example
to yer companions.” Again the king signaled, and before anyone realized what was happening, the two unfortunates were pinioned and swiftly beheaded with well-sharpened swords that had been prepared for just this occasion. The heads hardly rolled, but blood gushed from the severed necks of the two men, spilling across the floor, sending the women assembled within the room shrieking and seeking a place where the blood would not reach.

“Seize them all!”
the king's voice thundered as he pointed to the Lord of the Isles and his companions. “Throw them in the dungeon prepared for their arrival!” Stepping over the river of blood, he held out his hand to a now stony-faced Countess of Ross. “Come, madam, for ye are to be my guest for the interim.”

Fiona stepped forward and cried, “’Tis dishonorably done, James Stewart! The lord and the chieftains have come unarmed into yer hall this day to make their peace with ye. Is this how ye treat those who would pledge loyalty and friendship to ye?
Shame! Shame!

The king looked across the hall at the woman who had spoken. She was tall for a woman, and he was sure he knew her. She was certainly very fair. A chieftain's wife by the look of her. Then he recognized her. “Once, madam, ye pledged yer loyalty to me,” he said meaningfully.

“I have kept my pledge, even to speaking on yer behalf, my liege, in The MacDonald's hall. If he is here today, it is partly because of me. How dare ye break the laws of hospitality to unjustly imprison these men? Ye who love justice above all things. Is this yer justice?”

“She is as brave as she is bonnie,” Alexander MacDonald whispered to his brother, Colin MacDonald. “If she weren't yer wife, and if I did not have a wife myself, I would wed her this day!”

“Leave my hall, madam, and don't come back!” the king roared. “Do ye dare to instruct me? A little cattle thief and a whore?”

The Lord of the Isles gripped his brother of Nairn's arm in a tight grasp. “Don't move, Colly, or the bonnie Fiona will be a widow. He only insults her because she has pricked at his conscience.”

“Better an honest whore,
my liege,
than a dishonorable king!” Fiona said with devastating impact, then turned and walked from the hall, the chieftains’ wives following behind her.