Betrayed (40 page)

Fiona sighed. She had thought to coerce him into renouncing his foolish course, but instead she had given him a means to salve his conscience. “I canna change ye, can I, Colin MacDonald?”

He shook his head, a small smile upon his lips. “No, sweeting, ye canna change me. I love ye with all my heart, Fiona mine, but not even for ye will I betray Alexander MacDonald, Lord of the Isles.”

“I can but pray we all survive yer misguided loyalties,” she answered him, but then she kissed his lips.

The snows were on the bens and the trees showed no sign of budding when the call to arms came. One icy twilight when a new sliver of moon hung in the western skies, first one, and then another, and yet another signal fire sprang up on the hills. Before dark a messenger arrived at Nairns Craig from the Lord of the Isles. James Stewart and a vast army had crossed the Tay River, bound for the north. The king had struck earlier than
any of them had anticipated. It was to be a battle to the death.

They had lost not a man at Inverness, but now, as the two hundred assembled in the castle courtyard, Fiona looked upon them with sad eyes, wondering how many, if any, would return unscathed. As Nairn was preparing to make his departure, his mother, frail with the hard winter they had endured and the loss of her old servant, Beathag, spoke earnestly to her only child.

“I sense what ye are doing is not right, Colin,” she told him. “Don't follow the MacDonalds this time. If not for our sake, then for yer own. No good can come of this fighting.” Her eyes were filled with tears that began to flow down her weathered, yet beautiful, aged face. “If ye go, I will not see ye again in this life,” she told him.

He tried to comfort her, for he had never in all his life seen her so concerned over him. Putting an arm about her, he said, “I am my father's son, mam, and must do my duty by my family.”

Moire Rose looked up at him bleakly as he kissed her cheek.

“God bless ye, Colin, my son,” she said. Then, pulling from his embrace, she hobbled back into the castle, leaning heavily upon the cane she now used. She would have no servant helping her since Beathag's death in the winter from old age.

“I'll look after her,” Fiona said to her husband, “but there is little I can do to calm her fears. We are right, Colly. Ye should not go with the lord. March for the king's camp and align yerself with him: Ye will not suffer for it, and, believe me, ye will not be the only highland chief who arrays himself with James Stewart. I don't approve the burning of Inverness, but I understand now why ye felt ye must join yer brother in razing
the town. This is different. That was to avenge an insult, but this is treason, plain and simple, Colly. Will ye mark yer bairns with a traitor's mark? So will they be if the king wins.”

“If,”
The MacDonald of Nairn said with a jaunty smile.

Fiona wanted to shriek at him. Didn't he understand? The Lord of the Isles believed he had ten thousand men beneath his banner, but human nature being what it was, Fiona was certain that a number of the clansmen, seeing the king's might, would switch sides. The messenger last night had stated that the king's troops were equal in size to Alexander MacDonald's. Looking into her husband's eyes, she saw that there was nothing she might say or do that would turn him from the path of his own destruction. It was madness, but she had to admire his sense of loyalty and determination. He was not a complicated man, just a good one. Pulling his head down to hers, she kissed him passionately until both their heads began to spin with the pleasure. He broke the embrace, smiling down at her.

“Farewell, my love,” Fiona said. “May God guard you and bring you home safe to us.”

“So,” he said, his blue eyes suddenly alight,
“you do love me,
Fiona mine.” His big hand caressed her rosy cheek.

A quick sally sprang to her lips, but she swallowed it back, saying, “Aye, I love ye, Nairn.” Then, before he might see her tears, she turned away from him, walking back into the castle as his voice called after her, “I always knew ye would love me one day, Fiona mine!”

The days took on a sameness. While not isolated, Nairns Craig was off the beaten track. As the ground grew soft again, Fiona oversaw the planting in their few
fields that were tillable. Mayhap they would get to harvest them. She carefully rationed every particle of grain in her storage bins, set extra watches on their cattle and sheep. She sent a lad, too young for battle and disappointed that he wasn't allowed to go off with the men, to sit down by the roadside and question any travelers so they might learn what news they could. Fiona knew she should leave, but she could not seem to do so. During the day the yett was drawn down over the entry to Nairns Craig; each night the heavy iron-bound oak doors were shut behind it.

Beathag, whose frail old body had been stored in the cold cellars during the winter months, was now laid to rest in a newly dug grave. This event seemed to make Moire Rose sink even lower. She barely ate anymore, and each day she grew weaker and weaker. One afternoon when the sun shone brightly from a clear blue sky, Fiona had her mother-in-law carried to the roof of one of the towers so she might enjoy the soft air and see the countryside about her. Below, the hills were lush with fresh new greenery, and the lochs about them sparkled, reflecting back the sky's fine color. Together the two women sat for several hours, Fiona sewing a garment for Alastair, who was growing quickly. Finally, as the afternoon waned, Fiona suggested it was time to go inside.

“Let me see the sunset,” Moire Rose said in quavery tones.

“If it pleases ye, lady. Ye are not cold, are ye? We have been out here for some time.”

“I am all right.”

Together they watched as the sun sank below the western hills. The sky was a panorama of blazing colors. Orange melted into a slender length of pale green, which oozed into lavender. Rose-pink clouds edged in
violet and gold hung in an aquamarine sky. The horizon was a rich royal purple beneath which the molten red sun slowly sank, while above the castle swallows darted like dark shadows amid the twilight.

Finally Fiona arose and called down to her servants to come and carry Moire Rose back to her bedchamber. The litter was carefully lowered through the trapdoor and carried through the corridor to the old woman's chamber. Once inside, however, as they made to lift Moire Rose back to her bed, Fiona noted how still she was.

“Wait,” she said, and fetched the little silver hand mirror Donald MacDonald had once given her mother-in-law. Holding the mirror to Moire Rose's nostrils, she immediately saw that there was no breath of life reflected upon the glass. Her mother-in-law's blue eyes were but half-open. Fiona closed them gently. “The lady is dead,” she told the servants. “Put her gently upon the bed. She must be prepared for burial tomorrow.” Then she hurried out to find Nelly.

At the gravesite the following morning Fiona wished that Father Ninian had been with them. They had not seen him in well over a year. Moire Rose's delicate body had been washed and dressed in her finest gown. She was then sewn into a cloth sack, for there was no one to fashion a proper wooden coffin. The young boy who watched the road had dug the grave for her, then filled it in.

Several days later came word that clans Chattan and Cameron had deserted the ranks of the Lord of the Isles and allied themselves with King James. It was a terrible blow, for both families were very powerful and had been longtime adherents of the MacDonald lords. He was greatly weakened without them. Fiona prayed that her husband would remember her words and reconsider
his position, but in her heart she knew that he would not. If anything, the desertion of longtime former partisans and supporters would but strengthen his resolve to remain by his brother's side until the very end.

One afternoon the boy by the high road came racing up the castle hill, shouting, “Him's been defeated! Him's been defeated!” They brought the lad to Fiona immediately.

“Who has been defeated, Ian?” she asked. “Has the king been defeated, laddie? Tell me what ye heard.”

“The Lord of the Isles has been defeated at Lochaber, lady. ‘Twere a terrible slaughter, they say. Terrible!”

“Who told ye this?”

“Clansmen of the Rose family returning home. Not our people. The Great Rose's people. They say the lord has asked for peace and forgiveness. The king's troops are pursuing the clansmen into the highlands. They come this way bringing destruction with them. There is not a field left unburned to the south and west of us, lady. So they say.”

“Go back down to the high road, Ian,” Fiona told him, “and learn whatever else ye can.”

“The men on the road could use some water, lady,” Ian told her, “and if I can give them some, they will not come up the castle road. They'll be those looking to loot anything, and bitter with their loss to the king. We have really little defense but to close the gates, and if we do, lady, then how can we learn what is happening?”

“I'll send water down to ye,” Fiona replied, thinking that the boy was particularly intelligent and loyal.

The next morning Nelly said quietly to her mistress, “Have ye noticed that there are few castle folk about?”

Fiona nodded. “They are fleeing. I canna blame them.”

“Should we not take the bairns and go to Hay Tower now, my lady?” Nellie gently asked her. “My Roddy knows where to find us. He has shown me a secret track that goes through the hills south and east toward Brae. We would be safe there. If the king's forces come this way, they will surely destroy Nairns Craig to revenge themselves on yer husband. If we are here, they may kill us and the bairns.”

“If Alexander MacDonald has sued the king for peace,” Fiona reasoned, “then Nairn should be coming home soon. This castle has never been taken in war. Once the gates are closed, we are safe. Let us gather in all our stores. If the king's forces approach Nairns Craig, we will simply close our gates and wait for them to go away. When Nairn returns home, we will decide what to do. If the king will accept Alexander MacDonald's submission, he will certainly accept Colin MacDonald's submission as well.”

The grain in their few fields was not ready for harvest. If they were attacked, they must count the crop a loss. Fiona was glad she had been so chary with last year's harvest. Her bins within the castle walls were more than half full. They could eke those stores out over a winter if necessary. Anything edible, however, was gathered up and brought into the castle. When the time came, they would drive what cattle and sheep they could behind the walls. The poultry already lived there for safekeeping from fox and badger.

One morning Fiona realized that she, Nelly, and the children were virtually alone but for half a dozen elderly retainers and the boy, Ian. She gathered them all in the hall, saying, “If ye have family elsewhere with whom ye would shelter, ye may go. But be certain to return when the troubles are over.
Ye
will be welcomed.” She watched as they all, but for the lad, hurried from
the hall. She looked at him. “Do ye not wish to leave, Ian?”

“Where would I go?” he asked her. “Nairns Craig is my home.”

“What of yer mother?” Fiona said. “Will she not want ye with her?”

“Me mam's dead,” he said,

“And yer father is off with Nairn, I suppose,” Fiona replied.
“Ye
have no grandparents to whom ye might flee?”

“There is only me da,” the boy said.

“Do I know him?”

The boy shuffled his feet nervously but said nothing.

Suddenly Nelly gave a little gasp, her hand flying to cover the cry. Then she let her hand drop from before her mouth. “Yer Roderick Dhu's son, are ye not?” she asked, but she already knew the answer. Why had she not
seen
it before? Though only eleven, the lad was the image of her great, gangling gawk of a husband.

“Me mam died when I was born,” Ian said. “They were handfast, and I be legitimate, mistress. Me grandparents raised me, but by last year both were dead. I was brought to serve in the castle. Me da were afraid to tell ye, mistress, lest ye not wed him.”

“The big fool,” Nelly said.

“Ye'll not be angry at me da, mistress, will ye?”

“Oh, come and give me a kiss, Ian,” Nelly said. “Yer the easiest bairn I'll ever have,” she concluded with a smile, hugging him.

“Then we are three, and the bairns,” Fiona said quietly. “Ian, I think we have learned all we need to know from the men on the road. Go up on the south tower and watch. If ye see any armed party of men approaching, come and warn me. Nelly and I will keep
the gates locked today just to be certain we are not taken unawares. Is there any other way into the castle but through the gates, lad?”

“There be a secret passage leading out into the forest behind the castle, lady, but only me da and my lord know of it. Me da told me of it and showed it to me before he left. He gave me orders to help ye and Mistress Nelly escape with the bairns if necessary.” He held up a brass key. “This be the key to the door. There be no other, and the entry is so well hidden that even knowing it was there it would be difficult to find. We have a fine rabbit hole to escape through should the fox besiege our den, lady,” the boy finished, then went to keep watch upon the roof.

“Wake the bairns,” Fiona said to Nelly, “and feed them. See they are dressed warmly. From this moment on we must be ready to leave immediately should we be attacked.”

“Why should we leave at all?” Nelly said. “Unless, of course, we wish to go to Hay Tower. For now we are safe here behind these walls, lady. Outside, the countryside is swarming with clansmen, and they do not care whose side we would espouse.”

Nelly was probably right, Fiona thought, when she had been left alone. Still, it could not hurt to be prepared to flee if it became necessary. What would she take? It could not be a great deal, for they did not dare to have a cart. A cart would slow them down and make them prey to every returning highlander who came upon them. It could not be easily hidden in the trees if a troop of horsemen rode by. Still, she would find a place for the silver cups the Lord of the Isles had given Alastair as a baptismal gift and for the fine brooch the old Countess of Ross had given her daughter, Johanna. Moire Rose's silver mirror she would save for Mary.
Other than that, they could carry only as much clothing as they could stuff into the saddlebags, and food.