'Bring me but fifty merks,' Fiona told him. 'It will be more than enough to support us for some time, and the rest will remain secure in Perth. We are safe upon the ben, for none know that we are here. In my sisters' time we were fairly self-sufficient. I can be so again. As long as we remain upon the ben, not showing ourselves, none will disturb us. As Roddy and Ian are not known hereabouts, it is they who will seek out what we need from the villages. Eventually we will not need to go down the ben at all, and I may raise my bairns in safety.'
'We must speak privately, my daughter,' the priest said.
Nelly, hearing him, gathered up the three children and took them off as her husband and stepson went outside again to continue their work.
'Yer son deserves to know his father,' the priest said, coming directly to the point. 'It is not fair ye keep Alastair from Angus Gordon, my lady Fiona. I know ye did what ye did to protect the lad, but Colin MacDonald is dead, may God assoil his good soul, and yer son should know his rightful sire.'
'Know his rightful sire, good Father, and then be known as a bastard? No! Colin MacDonald was my son's father, if not by blood, then by love and caring. I will not take that away from either of them.' Fiona's eyes were filled with tears. She had not cried for Nairn. There had never seemed to be any time to weep, but now she was close to it.
'Angus Gordon did not know ye were with child when he went to England to fetch the queen's cousin,' the priest replied. 'Even ye were not certain of yer condition, lady. Do not assign blame to Lord Gordon unfairly, my lady. 'Tis not right.'
'I do not blame Angus,' Fiona said. 'But 'tis not right that I tell my son the man he loved as his sire is not his father at all, that he is bastard-born. And what could Angus Gordon possibly want with my laddie? No, better Alastair grow up believing he is the legitimate heir of Nairn, rather than the bastard son of the laird of Loch Brae. What I once told ye was told under the seal of the confessional. Ye canna divulge any of it, good Father.'
'No, I canna,' he agreed with her, 'but I still believe ye should make yer peace with the lord of Brae and let him know his son.'
Fiona shook her head. 'Ye canna know what it is to be a mother, but ye must believe what I do is best for Alastair.'
'I must bow to yer maternal instinct, lady,' the priest said. She was a strong woman, he thought. She would need to be if she intended staying here on her isolated ben to raise her children. All her efforts must be directed toward their survival. Somehow it did not seem right. He could not break her confidence, but if Brae should learn of her return the priest wondered just what he would do. He had not married. Did he love her yet? Could they be reunited? He must pray for guidance.
He had broken the seal of the confessional when he had told James Stewart that Alastair was Angus Gordon's son, and not the son of The MacDonald of Nairn. He had done it to protect the boy, however, and God would surely forgive him for it. His royal cousin was a ruthless man when he chose to be. Executing a child whose father had rebelled against him was not beyond this king. James Stewart had made it very plain from the beginning of his reign: He would have all of Scotland, no matter the cost.
Father Ninian departed Hay Tower the next day, traveling south instead of northward. He found his cousin, James, summering in the hills above Scone. The king was surprised to see him, for Ninian did not usually appear south at this time of year. The queen, who was great with child, was pleased, however, to greet this one Stewart cousin who was totally without ambition, and therefore of no danger to her beloved husband. The royal couple sat alone in their private day room with the priest. Wine and sugar wafers had been served by discreet servants. The windows were open, and a light breeze, scented with early heather and roses, blew through the chamber.
'Why have ye returned, cousin?' the king asked him. 'Is there some news ye must bring me that canna wait to come through our usual channels? I don't believe I have ever known ye to come south this early.'
'Have ye told the queen of the lady of Nairns Craig, James? It is of her I would speak to ye,' the priest began.
The king looked distinctly uncomfortable. 'No,' he said curtly. Then he turned to his wife. 'Would ye leave us, my love? This matter is not yer concern, and I would not have ye distressed in yer condition.'
'Why would
'Joan,' he pleaded with her.
'I should be far more
The priest smiled a slow smile. 'I do not think so at all, madam. In fact I might use your good offices to aid me with yer husband.'
'Oh, verra well,' the king snapped. 'Tell her all, Ninian, and then tell us why ye are here!' He crunched loudly on a sugar wafer.
Ninian Stewart briefly told the queen of Fiona Hay, and the queen was delighted to learn that Fiona had survived the highland uprising. 'But,' the priest said, 'the king promised the lady in exchange for her valuable services a certain number of cattle and a virile bull. After Nairns Craig was burned, its lady made her way back to her childhood home, where she found the king had not repaired the tower as he had agreed to do when he sent her north with The MacDonald of Nairn. Her only manservant and his son were able to make the repairs so she and her maidservant and the bairns might survive the winter months in safety. It was not easy, cousins, but Fiona is a brave lass, and a good mother to her lad and two wee lassies.
'And, cousin, there is the matter of the silver merks ye promised to deposit for her with Martin the Goldsmith. I visited him before I came to ye, James,' and here the priest's voice became severe. 'No silver was ever put in Fiona's name. For shame, my lord! Ye must make amends and keep yer word. I would never allow Fiona to learn the truth of this matter. The lack of repairs can be explained away, but the rest canna, I fear.'
'My treasury is not without end, Ninian,' the king said. 'We have the English to pay, and they are not patient.'
'Ye gave yer word,' the priest said sternly.
'Oh, verra well,' the king snapped. 'I will deposit the silver.'
'No. Ye will give it all to me. I will see it is put safely with the goldsmith. Now, we have the cattle to discuss, cousin.'
'A dozen, it was, I believe,' the king said.
'Two dozen, and a virile bull,' the priest replied firmly.
The queen giggled, unable to help herself. This caused her spouse to look very aggrieved.
'Two dozen, then, and that damned virile bull, too. Now, are ye satisfied, Ninian?'
'I am, and I will escort the cattle myself. They canna go by way of Brae. Fiona has told me the way to bring them, and her man will meet me at an assigned place, where yer people will turn the cattle over to him. That way her location will remain secret to strangers who might consider a woman in an isolated ben fair game.'
The king nodded. 'As always, she is a canny woman,' he said, his tone one of grudging admiration.
'Tell me of her bairns,' the queen said eagerly. 'She has a son, does she? Ah, she is fortunate!'
'Alastair is a fine lad, and Fiona's daughters, Mary and Johanna- named for ye, my lady-are pretty little lasses,' the priest told the queen. 'They resemble their father, Nairn, verra much.'
'And the lad?'
'He is dark-haired like his mam.'
'And this is all that has brought ye back south?' the king demanded of his cousin.
'Like ye, I have a passion for justice to be served. When I return in Hay it will be.' Ninian's warm amber eyes twinkled.
'Does Brae know of her return?' James Stewart asked.
'Brae knows naught of Fiona since the day she disappeared,' the priest said quietly. 'I have spoken to her, but she will have none of it. cousin. She will be independent, she says. I canna force her to reason, though I believe the bairns would be better off. 'Tis a hard life she has chosen, but she will be beholden to none.'
The king made all the arrangements for the silver and the cattle, and Ninian left to go north.
