Betrayed (34 page)

The door opened. Father Ninian Stewart was ushered into the room. The two men embraced, and then James Stewart said, “Go and fetch the mulled wine, Andrew. The good father will be well chilled from his ride on this dank day.”

The youngster hurried from the room to do his master's bidding.

“Andrew who?” the priest inquired, seating himself by the fire.

“Leslie,” the king replied.

“What happened to the Douglas page?”

“The Douglases are not in favor right now, Ninian,” the king told his cousin. “I sent the lad home. I have a daughter, Margaret,” he added, “and another bairn coming, hopefully a prince.”

“I will pray for the queen's continued good health.”

The two men sat speaking on small matters until after the Leslie page had returned with their hot mulled wine and departed once more, closing the door behind him. The king sipped his wine.

“Ye will want news of the north, of course,” Ninian Stewart said quietly.

“The Lord of the Isles?”

“He is determined to hold off giving you his pledge of fealty until he absolutely must.”

“The Campbells have given me their loyalty,” the king said.

“They are generally at odds with the MacDonalds, as you know, and don't have much influence among the clans, cousin.”

“So until the MacDonalds give me their faith, I canna expect the other highlands clans to do so. Why is Alexander MacDonald so stubborn?”

“Because the MacDonalds have been kings in the highlands since time immemorial. It is difficult for them to give their authority over to a Stewart king, south of the Tay.” Why didn't James understand, Ninian wondered. They had been over this ground a hundred times before. The king called the Lord of the Isles stubborn, but James was just as stubborn. Worse, he refused to accept that the Lord of the Isles thought of himself as the king's equal, possibly his superior. “Call a gathering of the clans next summer in Inverness,” the priest advised. “They all waited for it this summer, cousin, and were disappointed that ye did not ask them to come. The longer ye wait, the more ye offend the Lord of the Isles and his allies. I knew ye would be a strong king, but there is no shame in showing a wee bit of understanding.”

“I didn't call them to Inverness this summer because I wished to test the mettle of the clans,” the king said. “And what was the result, cousin? The Campbells and their allies came on their knees to me. I will divide and conquer these overproud men of the north! Another summer or two, and they will certainly be frightened enough to come to me and pledge their fealty.”

“Ye must understand that the Lord of the Isles does not believe he needs ye, and he is correct. He knows that ye need him far more if ye are to gather the clans in the north to yer banner. Invite the clans to Inverness, and let them all make their peace with ye with honor.”

“In time,” James Stewart said, “but not yet.”

“I have brought something for ye.” Holding out his hand, Ninian displayed the king's coin in his upturned palm.

The king took the coin, recognizing it, and asked, “Where did ye get this? It is surely not yers, cousin.”

“Fiona Hay returns it to ye,” the priest told the king.

“Why?”

“Because she will no longer spy for ye, cousin,” was the simple reply. “Ye have driven her too far.”

“Did she fall in love with Nairn?” the king asked, irritated.

“She is fond of him, but love him? Nay, I do not think so. However, she has wed him. She says she will not spy on him and his kin for ye. ’Tis dishonorable.”

“If she does not love him, why on earth did she wed him, Ninian?” the king demanded of the priest. “When I sent her north, I truly believed her passion for Angus Gordon would keep her from any foolish involvement with Colin MacDonald. What happened, or is she merely fickle?”

“Fiona was
enceinte
with Angus Gordon's child when ye sent her into the highlands, cousin. She was not certain of her condition, and so she was afraid to refuse ye lest she later discover she was not with child and ye accuse her of perfidy.”

‘Jesu!” the king whispered. “Ninian, I didn't know! I swear it by the Blessed Mother and my own sweet Joan. I didn't know!”

“MacDonald handfasted her in his brother's hall on Islay. He truly believes the son she bore to be his own. The child is named Alastair James for his brother and for ye. When I visited Nairns Craig in early autumn of this year and passed along yer latest message to Fiona, she was devastated to learn that the queen's cousin had wed her former lover.

“As the term of the handfast was coming to an end, Fiona asked me to marry her to Colin MacDonald before I returned south for the winter. She believed that
there was nothing else for her to do. Now that she is Nairn's true wife, she will not spy for ye. Ye canna blame her, and besides, the information she passed along was not of such great a value that ye will miss her. Let her go, James Stewart.”

“Ye have grown fond of her, have ye not?”

Ninian nodded. “I have. She is a fine woman who has faced facts and made the most of her life that she could. She protected her bairn as best she might, and now, married to Nairn, she will give him her complete loyalty. She told me to tell ye her fealty to ye stands. She is yet yer liege woman, but she will not spy for ye.”

“’Tis a strange sort of loyalty she offers me,” the king grumbled.

“Give over, James Stewart, and let the lass go. She can bear no more than she has. ‘Twas a cruel thing ye did, cousin, when ye forced Fiona Hay into yer service. And ye have robbed Angus Gordon of his son and heir, although I suppose Mistress Elizabeth will give him a houseful of bairns.”

The king looked decidedly uncomfortable, but then, knowing whatever he told the priest was confidential, he said, “Elizabeth is not wed to Angus Gordon. She wed Ian Ogilvy. Angus is yet in England with our uncle Atholl negotiating better terms for my maintenance payments.”

“Then why,” the priest said, an angry edge to his voice, “did ye send word to Fiona Hay that Mistress Elizabeth Williams had wed with a husband of her guardians’ choice? It was yer message delivered by me that precipitated her decision to marry The MacDonald of Nairn.”

“I only meant for it to keep her in the north with Nairn,” the king said. “I knew she would assume I meant the bridegroom was Angus. I thought it would
further anger her and make her more determined to remain rather than come sneaking back to her tower on the ben. I did not know there was a child, or that she would wed Nairn. I thought her pride would keep her where I wanted her rather than returning in shame.”

“Cousin” the priest said disapprovingly, “ye have meddled in lives with an abandon that belongs only to God, and stolen Angus Gordon's son from him. I do not know what will happen to the laird of Loch Brae, but I thank God that Fiona Hay will be safe in Colin MacDonald's love, for, cousin, love her he does. Have ye confessed all this mischief to yer confessor?”

“’Tis state business,” the king said by way of explanation. “Ye have heard it. These decisions I made for the good of Scotland, ye choose to believe are my sins. Give me a penance, Ninian, and I will perform it.”

The priest shook his head in the negative. “Nay, cousin, I will not shrive ye, for ye are not sorry at all for what ye have done.
Ye
know that a penitent must be penitent.” He smiled slightly to take the edge from his decision, for he did not want to offend his cousin.

The king shrugged. “I canna be sorry for doing what I believe is best for Scotland. I do not know what else to do but what I have done.
Ye
will, I hope, continue to be of service to me.”

“Aye,” the priest said, “but not just for ye. For all the clansmen and clanswomen who have become my friends over the years I have traveled the north bringing God and His sacraments to those good peoples. They are not yer enemies, cousin. They are a remnant of our past as a proud and free people. In time they will come to ye if ye will but treat them with respect and kindness. Do not listen to the counsel of greedy and ambitious men, cousin.”

“I canna show weakness, Ninian.”

“To show respect for another, cousin, is not weakness,” was the calm reply. The priest drank down the last of his mulled wine, then stood. “Unless ye need me further, I would pay my respects to the abbot and bathe before vespers.”

“Go,” James Stewart said, “but come and see me often until ye decide to return to the north.”

The priest bowed respectfully, then departed.

The king sat back down, swirling the remaining wine and spices in his cup around and around. He was irritated at himself for having misread Fiona Hay. Certainly the information she had sent him had been valuable to a point, but hardly earth-shattering. He had placed her with Nairn because one day, he instinctively knew, she would have something of real value to pass on to him. But now she would not, and all because he had been too heavy-handed in his handling of her. He must accept his loss. Fiona Hay was as gone from his life as she was from Angus Gordon's life.

And here James Stewart felt a twinge of guilt, for he was basically a decent man. Pray God Angus never learn of his part in separating the lovers. Pray God and His Blessed Mother that Angus never learn that he had a son who would grow up known as Alastair MacDonald. The king envied his friend that unknown son, for he wanted a son, too. The queen had already birthed a daughter, whom they had named Margaret. She was a lovely, fat baby with her mother's auburn hair. James Stewart had great plans for his daughter. He dreamed of a marriage that would one day make his daughter queen of France. In the interim the king prayed for a son.

The following spring, the queen bore a second daughter, who was called Isabella. The year after,
Queen Joan finally gave Scotland its long-awaited heir, a small prince who was called Alexander, but the baby was weak. It was feared he would not reach manhood, and so it was necessary that the queen continue in her efforts to give Scotland more princes.

The little prince had been born at year's end. Even in the snowy highlands the word had spread that the king at last had a son, and the good-natured high-landers celebrated the child's birth.

At Nairns Craig, Fiona sat at her loom in her hall watching her children playing upon the floor. Alastair would be three in late spring. Mary was sixteen months old, and a new baby would be born before the snows were off the bens in earliest spring. Mary was her father's image, and had been named for both her grandmothers, whose Celtic names were variations on the more Anglicized version.

“Times are changing,” Fiona had said after her daughter was born. “Eventually we will make our peace with the king. Our daughter may even go to court to serve the queen. Better her name be understood by all, particularly those who don't speak our Gaelic language.”

Moire Rose agreed with her daughter-in-law.

The MacDonald of Nairn laughed. “I cannot win between the two of ye. Is it natural that a wife and a mother-in-law be such good friends?” he teased them.

“If they live in the same house, it certainly is!” Fiona said, and Moire Rose laughed her odd harsh laugh.

The king had not called a gathering of the clans in either 1426 or 1427. The highlands remained relatively calm, but the Lord of the Isles and the majority of the clan chieftains had not yet sworn their fealty to James
Stewart. He finally had no choice but to call a gathering of the clans in Inverness or admit to not being in full control of his entire land. The assemblage was set for midjuly. The tower of Inverness Castle was repaired for James Stewart's arrival that summer.

The Lord of the Isles sent out messengers to all the clans ordering them to Inverness in answer to James Stewart's command. In the four years the king had been back in Scotland he had left the highlands to themselves, and The MacDonald had seen that the peace was kept. The Lord of the Isles had almost decided to give this king his fealty. Before he made his final decision, however, he wanted to gain a full measure of the man.

Fiona knew that her brother-in-law would stop at Nairns Craig before reaching Inverness. His messenger said he would be traveling with his mother, the old Countess of Ross, who would also swear her fealty to the king if her son did. The lord's wife, a shy woman, preferred to remain on Islay. As Fiona had not been back to Islay since her initial visit, she had yet to meet either of these women. The old countess was said to be by far the more interesting.

They arrived at Nairns Craig in the company of Father Ninian. Fiona was delighted to see the priest, for she had birthed her second daughter three months prior. The infant, who was to be called Johanna, in honor of the queen, stood in need of baptism. Euphemia MacDonald, Countess of Ross, offered to be the baby's godmother, a great honor for the MacDonalds of Nairn. And afterward when Alastair and Mary had also been admired, and Johanna fed, the family gathered in the hall for the evening meal.

Father Ninian brought news. The infant prince, Alexander Stewart, had not lived through the winter,
but the queen was with child again, and it was hoped she would provide the needed heir. “Ye are fortunate in yer bairns, Colin MacDonald,” he said. “Yer son, praise God, is a healthy laddie, and yer daughters likewise.”

“I'd like another lad,” Nairn said, looking to Fiona.

“Ye'll wait for the next one, Colly,” she told him boldly. “I'm worn out bearing yer bairns so quickly. If we're to have another son, then ye must let me rest a bit. When Johanna is weaned, we will discuss it again, my lord.”

The Countess of Ross, a big handsome woman, chuckled. “The lassie is right, Nairn. If ye love her, ye'll not kill her with yer bairns” She turned to Fiona. “Don't let him bully ye, lassie!”

Nairn burst out laughing. “Bully her? It is not possible for me to bully Fiona. Rather, she bullies me.”

“She but keeps him in line a wee bit,” Moire Rose said in defense of her daughter-in-law. “Nairns Craig is a happier place because of Fiona Hay. I bless the day she came here.”

“My mother-in-law attributes to me more than I am deserving of, I think” Fiona said, embarrassed, signaling her servants with a raised eyebrow to begin bringing the meal.