AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“My lords,” he began, “I must thank my brother of Nairn and his bonnie wife for offering us their hospitality. May I remind ye that this meeting among us is to remain secret. Today is the last day of May, in the year of our lord fourteen hundred and twenty-five. None ofus has yet been called to Inverness to pledge fealty to James Stewart. It is verra possible that the days of our autonomy are coming to an end.”
Here and there were shouts of disapproval, but the Lord of the Isles held up his hand, and silence once more settled upon the hall.
“I don't like it either, and I will resist it, but we must face facts. In the eastern highlands and south of the Tay this king has united the clans. There has even been talk here in the north and in the west among some of the clans of pledging fealty. I will stop no man from doing so, nor will I count him my enemy unless he chooses to make himself such. I have called ye here to tell ye that each must do what he decides is best for his clan. Some of ye are small, no more than a few hundred men, and others of ye can command a thousand or more to yer banner. Be warned, however, that any who pledge fealty to James Stewart with the idea of then gaining his help to attack me and mine, will suffer in the worst possible ways. I will come down on ye like a wolf upon a hapless sheep. I will spare none of yer people, men, women, the aged, babes suckling at their mam's tit. I am the Lord of the Isles, and I will remain so.”
Duncan Campbell stood up, saying, “And if we swear fealty to this Stewart king, and he asks our aid in overcoming yer power, my lord, what then? Our loyalties will be divided. Honor bound, we must obey the king, our overlord. Yet like ye, we are highlanders.”
“Yer strong enough to stand by me until the last moment, Duncan Campbell,” the Lord of the Isles said. “Yer family is not small or weak.”
The Late MacNeill rose up. “I am here for my brother, Gilleonan, who is ill with running bowels and could not come. We are a small family, my lord, and pledged to ye as yer vassals. There is no doubt as to thecourse we will take. We will follow ye as we always have. We will not pledge ourselves to this Stewart until ye do.” He sat back down.
“Discuss this among yerselves,” the Lord of the Isles said, “but keep a rein on yer tempers. There will be no fighting or killing in my brother of Nairn's hall. Remember there are women here.”
The chieftains began to discuss the matter in reasonable tones at first, but slowly their voices escalated as their deliberations deepened and views were frankly exchanged. The smaller families were concerned about their ability to defend themselves, not just from James Stewart, but from the larger families who would prey on them no matter the course they chose, as they had always preyed on them. The larger clans considered the wisdom of deserting their alliance with Alexander MacDonald to join with Scotland's king. Yet there was the distinct possibility that the new king would reward those who quickly came to his side rather than waiting for a gathering to be called in Inverness.
Robert Cameron muttered, “’Tis like tossing the dice. One canna be certain if they will win.”
“Are ye thinking of deserting our ancient confederacy, then, Robbie Cameron?” said William MacIntyre heatedly.
Those at the high board listened with interest to the exchanges going on about them.
“Duncan Campbell is not to be trusted,” Nairn said to his elder brother. “The Campbells have always been jealous of our power.”
“But not strong enough to defy us until now,” Alexander MacDonald replied. “I can see he is considering the advantage of kneeling before James Stewart, but should he do so before I do, he will make an enemy of the MacDonalds for all time. The smaller familiesI canna blame for attempting to protect their own, for I will acknowledge to ye, and ye alone, brother, that I know in the end I will yield, too.”
‘James Stewart said to me when he reconfirmed my title and lands that I should kneel before him immediately after ye, Alex, and so I shall, but not before then, I swear it.”
The Lord of the Isles clapped his younger sibling upon the shoulder and said, “I love ye, Nairn. I'm glad for the day our father brought ye to Islay to raise up with the rest of us.”
Suddenly all eyes in the hall swung to Ian MacArthur, who said loudly, “Why do we not kill this Stewart king, my lords? ‘Twould save a great deal of trouble for us in the end. He has no heir yet. The queen, I am told, delivered of a daughter. Old Atholl is the nearest male relation to the throne. Kill James Stewart, and the lands south of the Tay would erupt in chaos with the struggle to gain his throne. We might seek for Duke Murdoch's surviving son, the other James, who I am told is in Ireland.” Ian MacArthur looked about him for support.
Alexander MacRurie leapt up, saying, “’Tis a fine idea Ian has put forth. If we kill James Stewart, the matter is settled for us. And if we put his nephew to do the deed, who can blame us?”
“Are ye so stupid?” said Fiona, standing up behind the high board, “that ye think Duke Murdoch's Jamie Stewart would be willing to avenge his father and brothers for naught? And dare ye offer him coin to do the murder? He could not take it for shame, and would be called a Judas. So what would he want, my good lords?” she demanded scathingly of them, and then as quickly answered her own question. “I will tell ye what he would want, ye fine pair of fools.He would want yersupport! Andye would have no choice but to give it him lest he make yer part in the murder of an anointed and rightful king public knowledge. Do ye think the church would let stand such wickedness without becoming involved? So ye would trade a just, though hard, Stewart for a cowardly and guileful Stewart? Ye would never be able to trust him. ’Tis surely no bargain.” Fiona sat back down in her seat to let them digest her words. Highland women were outspoken, and none thought it odd that she had taken part in the discussion. Indeed, many of the chieftains were impressed, and considered her words thoughtfully, for they had been told of her intimate acquaintance with the king and his queen.
“Such an act would surely bring fire and sword to the highlands,” Elizabeth McKay said quietly to those at the high boards. “Fiona speaks wisdom, and I hope ye will listen well, my brother.” She looked directly at the Lord of the Isles. “What think ye of Lord MacArthur's suggestion?”
“I think he is a fool, as our bonnie Fiona so wisely observed,” Alexander MacDonald said. “’Twould be unworthy of a MacDonald to be part of such a plot. I will espouse no such thing, sister, and ye know it well without asking,” he finished.
“Yet,” his sister said, “MacArthur's close adherent is The MacRurie, who is a part of the MacDonald family, brother. How will ye keep him under control?”
Alexander MacDonald smiled wolfishly. “When the day comes that we must go to Inverness, and the king desires a member of our family to make an example of, do ye nae think MacRurie will do, sister?”
“Ah, Alex, our da would be proud of ye,” she said, smiling at him. “’Tis a plan worthy of Donald of Harlaw”
Fiona listened to them as well as to the continued discussions in her hall. This proposed assassination by Ian MacArthur and Alexander MacRurie was something she would pass on, for although it would undoubtedly come to nothing, the king should be warned. She was worried as to how her information could be transmitted, for she was in no condition to go to Inverness to visit the cloth-and-ribbon merchant and none of the other agents had come to Nairns Craig this spring. She turned to her brother-in-law and asked, “Have ye seen Father Ninian, my lord? I would have him here to baptize the bairn after it is born.”
“I have heard he was somewhere north of Nairns Craig, my bonnie,” the lord answered her, “but do not fear. He came to Islay earlier this spring, and told me then he planned to be with ye and Nairn come June.”
“June comes in tomorrow, my lord,” Fiona said.
“’Tis a fine month for a bairn to be born in,” the lord told her with a broad smile.
Fiona laughed. “Any moment would suit me for this bairn to be born. I am as swollen as an overripe grape.”
“Is my nephew an active wee fellow?” Elizabeth MacKay asked.
“He is never still,” Fiona responded, “yet in the last day or two he has quieted, it seems.”
