Betrayed

'Aye,' she said softly. Then, 'Do not tell Jeannie and Morag, Hamish. They could not keep the secret that I know ye can. I ask but one thing of ye, though. From time to time will ye send me news of my sisters? Anne, Elsbeth, and Margery, too, if ye hear anything.'

'I will, Fiona,' he said, and then he turned his head sharply at the sound of a small child's voice calling.

'Mama! Mama!' A little lad came into view upon the riverbank.

'Jesu!' Fiona swore, jumping up. 'He has gotten away from his nurse, and Nelly, too. Alastair! Stay where ye are, or I will take a birch switch to yer bottom, laddie!'

The child heeded her not, however, and raced across the little wooden bridge to fling himself proudly into her arms. 'I found ye, Mama,' he said triumphantly.

'Yer a bad bairn,' she scolded him, 'to run away from nursie and Nelly. They will be frantic looking for ye.' She turned to Lord Stewart. 'I must get him back quickly else they all have a fit.'

Hamish Stewart was staring at the boy. 'Jesu!' he said, seeing his brother-in-law, Angus Gordon, in the lad's small face.

Fiona held up a warning hand and spoke to him in the Scots-English dialect she knew her son would not understand. 'Ye can say nothing to him, Hamish. When the king forced me to play this game, I was not certain if I was with his bairn. I feared if I was not and cried off with that excuse, he would punish Angus.'

'But MacDonald?'

'He believes my son is his son. I will not tell him otherwise for my bairn's sake. Don't look so shocked. Brae's wife will certainly give him an heir if she has not already. He does not need my laddie. Now, I must go. Farewell, Hamish Stewart. 'Twas verra good to see ye again.' Then, taking her son by the hand, Fiona departed the small island for the shore, soon disappearing amid the trees along the riverbank.

Hamish Stewart remained sitting upon the outcropping. He needed time to absorb everything she had told him. Had he not heard the story from her own lips, Hamish would not have believed his cousin the king so ruthless. He wondered what would happen to the remaining chieftains the king had imprisoned that day. He did not have long to wait.

The next week the king called for all the clansmen and women who had gathered at Inverness to attend his parliament, where he intended to render his judgment upon their chieftains. The highlanders came fearfully, for a rhyme, attributed to the king, had been making the rounds all the week long regarding the fate of the Lord of the Isles and his allies.

To donjon tower let this rude troop be driven,

For death they merit, by the cross of heaven.

The MacRuries and the MacArthurs had already left the gathering to carry home the decapitated bodies of their chieftains. So as not to appear to be showing favoritism to any of the clans, for MacRurie had been a cousin of Alexander MacDonald, the king also hanged in that week James Campbell, who had been responsible for the murder of the current Lord of the Isles' cousin, Ian MacDonald.

To everyone's surprise and relief, the king fined the chieftains and released them. A lecture, as well as a fine, however, was saved for Alexander MacDonald, Lord of the Isles. 'I canna rule Scotland properly if ye are always rousing the north for one imagined offense or another, my lord,' the king said severely. 'There can be but one king in this land, and I am he, by the grace of God, anointed with the holy oil, in Holy Mother Church. Ye will cease yer turbulent lawlessness against me, my lord, or I will be forced to take arms against ye. I don't want to do that, for war is expensive and a waste of good lives. But be warned, Alexander MacDonald, if ye will not desist in yer proud ways, I will make ye do so. Now, sir, ye may pledge me yer fealty before this parliament, and then may yer friends and allies do so, too.'

Reluctantly the Lord of the Isles obeyed the king, not wanting to be further publicly embarrassed, but he was furious over his brief imprisonment. When he arose from his knees, the king said, 'Now, ye, Nairn, for so I promised ye several years back that ye would swear second after yer brother.'

Colin MacDonald stepped forward, a small smile upon his lips.

'I feared my lord would not swear,' Fiona said afterward. They were safely back in their own tent. She had her husband ensconced in a wooden barrel Roderick Dhu had confiscated for her. The barrel had been filled with hot water, and she was now scrubbing her husband's red-gold head with great vigor.

'Ouch! Go gentle, sweeting,' he begged her, and then, 'My brother does not consider his oath binding, for the king forced it from him. Had he not sworn, James Stewart would not have let him go.'

Secretly, Fiona agreed with her brother-in-law, but she would not say so aloud. 'An oath sworn before God and witnesses is an oath to be kept,' she said severely. 'What harm has been done? All yer brother must do is keep the peace. Can he not do that, Nairn?'

'His pride has been compromised, Fiona mine. He has been publicly shamed and made an example of in the king's hall. How can he forget that? It must be made right, or there are those among the clans who will believe he has become weak. Then he will not be able to keep the peace in the north for James Stewart.'

'And how does yer brother propose to salve his pride then, my lord?' she asked scathingly, dumping a bucket of warm water over his head.

Colin MacDonald shook his head free of the droplets. 'I don't know yet, for he has not decided what he shall do.'

Fiona snorted with impatience and handed her husband the scrubbing cloth and some soap. 'Wash yerself, and do a good job of it,' she cautioned him. 'A week in the king's dungeon, and there is enough dirt on ye to grow cabbages, my lord.'

'I wish we were at home,' he said, 'so we might bathe together.'

' 'Tis not bathing together yer thinking about.' She laughed. 'Jesu, Colin MacDonald, ye have just escaped possible death, and do ye give God a prayer of thanks for it? No! Ye think of coupling with yer wife!'

'Aye,' he admitted, not in the least ashamed. 'The whole time 1 was in the king's jail I didn't fight or fret, for I just kept thinking about yer pretty round little titties, and how sweetly ye sheathe me when we join, Fiona mine.'

She laughed again. 'Well,' she told him. 'I canna say I am disappointed that ye thought of me, Nairn. I worried a great deal about ye, particularly when they would not let us see any of ye or even bring ye small comforts. Then when the king hanged James Campbell, those of us in the encampment were hard put not to be frightened.'

'Campbell deserved hanging,' Colin MacDonald said grimly.

'Well, I’m grateful the king did not hang ye.'

Nairn rose, pushed himself up and out of the barrel with his strong arms, and attempted to embrace her, but she scolded him, saying, 'The living space is not private, and 'tis the middle of the day. What if the children or the servants or, God help us, yer mam, were to come upon us? Behave yerself, Nairn. Now that I have ye safe there will be plenty of time for loving ye, but not here or now, my lord. Did ye sleep well in prison?'

'No,' he said, almost purring as she rubbed him dry.

'Then ye will need a good night's sleep, my lord, for unless ye have objection, I would depart for Nairns Craig as early tomorrow as we can go. And when we are home, Colly, ye will not regret controlling yer baser instincts for me now.' She drew a clean shirt over his big body, her hand slipping beneath the fabric just a moment to caress his love rod. 'If 'tis hungry now, 'twill be even hungrier in two days if I can wait.'

He chuckled. 'Yer a brazen piece of goods, wife,' he told her, but he did not sound displeased with her at all.

Colin MacDonald had no sooner finished dressing than Roderick Dhu ushered in a royal page. 'The lad comes from the king,' he said dourly.

'What is it, lad?' Nairn asked the boy.

'The king would speak in private with yer lady, sir,' the page told them. 'I am to accompany her to the castle.'

'Why does he wish to speak with my wife?'

'Is this not the lady who spoke out so boldly in the king's hall the opening day of the parliament?' the page