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Chapter 15
The words slammed into her brain like a brand.Burn Inverness.For a moment she couldn't speak, and then a rage such as Fiona had never known overwhelmed her. “Ye would raze Inverness? Have ye lost what few wits ye have, Colin MacDonald?” she screamed at him. “I will not let ye go off blindly to be killed!” She stamped her foot angrily at him.
The MacDonald of Nairn burst out laughing. His poor sweeting had never known such a situation, and she was, of course, frightened. He stepped forward to put his arms about her, but Fiona jumped back, almost hissing at him like a feral beast. “Fiona mine,” he said, pleading. “Don't distress yerself. I will leave on the morrow and be back in a few days’ time at the most. There is naught to be fearful of, my darling.”
“Do ye not understand, Colly?” she demanded of him. “Are ye so thickheaded that ye don't understand?The king will retaliate!”
‘James Stewart is not in Inverness any longer, sweeting. We waited until he was south of the Tay, returned safely to Perth.” He smiled at her. “There is no danger. We mean the king no harm, but the insult done to the Lord of the Isles must be avenged or he will be thought weak by the clans.”
Fiona shook her head wearily. His loyalty to his brother was so deep and so blind that he could not see the terrible peril they would all be in when the kinglearned that Inverness had been burned by the Lord of the Isles and the highland clans. “Why would ye burn Inverness?” she asked him. “What have the people of that fair town done to ye that yer brother would destroy all they have? ‘Twill not hurt the king. ‘Twill only displace the poor townsfolk—and with winter coming on, too!”
“They hosted the king, sweeting. The people of Inverness rebuilt the hall where our disgrace was publicly displayed. We have sworn our fealty to James Stewart, but not to the people of Inverness,” Colin MacDonald explained to his disbelieving wife.
“The king believed it necessary to make an example of yer brother” Fiona said to her husband. “I do not agree with him, but then I know Alexander MacDonald a wee bit better than James Stewart did. If he had known yer brother, he would have taken his hand in friendship two years ago instead of attempting to force the clans to his royal will and embarrassing them when he finally called a gathering. But yer brother, who has ruled here in the north, should know that the king believed he must be publicly harsh in order to convince ye that he means to ruleallof Scotland and not just south of the Tay. He has executed two bad chieftains and a murdering Campbell for causing the wrongful death of a MacDonald kin. James Stewart favored neither one side nor the other, instead being impartial. Why can Alexander not simply accept what has happened? It is past. Let us have peace.”
“Not without the honor of the MacDonalds being restored,” Nairn said stubbornly. “This king must surely understand that.”
‘James Stewart will take the burning of Inverness as an insult uponhishonor, Colly,” she told him. “He will come north to punish us. Remember, he has learnedall he knows from the English, and they are mean fighters, tacticians, and rulers. Yer brother, in his arrogance, is about to poke a stick into a bees’ nest. When this is over, we shall all be badly stung, but The MacDonald on Islay less so than those of us here in the highlands. I don't call that just. Yer brother commands us to war, and then we suffer for it.”
“Yer a woman, Fiona mine,” he said. “Ye canna possibly understand,” he told her, but he found that her words discomfited him greatly.
“Yer a man, Colin MacDonald, and canna help yer childish behavior that would put a brother ahead of yer bairns.”
He held out his arms to her. “Come and kiss me, sweeting, and let us quarrel no longer.”
Fiona shook her head. “I'll not kiss ye, or cuddle ye, or couple with ye until ye are safe home to me again,” she told him. “Sleep in the hall tonight, my lord, with yer men. I will not share my bed with ye.”
“What if I am killed, sweeting? Will ye not regret yer harsh decision then?”
“Yer hide is too thick for an arrow to pierce, and besides, what danger do ye face from poor frightened townspeople, my lord?” she mocked him. Then she left him.
Eventually, he knew, she would understand the ways of a highland chief. His duties not just to his own people, but to his overlord. He had indeed sworn fealty to the king, but he knew in his heart that his first loyalty would lie, as it had always lain, with the MacDonalds. They were his family, his clan, and he regretted that Fiona could not comprehend it. He would teach Alastair the same loyalty soon, and the sons that would come afterward, too.
Fiona knew her duty. In the morning she stood,her two eldest children clinging to her skirts, her infant daughter in her arms, watching as her husband and his retainers marched off down the castle hill to the road leading to Inverness. Unlike many of the chieftains who could muster two thousand or more men, The MacDonald of Nairn had but two hundred, and they were Rose family clansmen—his mother's people, for although he was a MacDonald by birth and acknowledged by his father, his inheritance had belonged to a lesser branch of the Rose family.
“They are like little boys playing,” Fiona said grimly as the piper led the troop off, banners flying bravely.
“Will they all come back, I wonder?” Nelly asked.
“I believe so” Fiona said. “This is not a war they go to fight. They go to burn, pillage, and loot a hapless town of women, bairns, and shopkeepers. They should be ashamed of themselves, but they are not. They will all return to their homes boasting of their victory.”
“Yer hard on him,” Moire Rose said, coming up next to Fiona, smiling down at Alastair and Mary.
“Do ye agree with yer son then, lady?”
“No, I don't. I always thought the warfare foolish, but unlike ye, I didn't dare to say it aloud. It is our way and will not change.”
“Ye must say it aloud now” Fiona told her. ‘James Stewart will not take this act of terror lightly. He will retaliate, lady. When he does, I would have Nairn align himself with the king, and not the Lord of the Isles. If both of us nag at yer son, my husband, then perhaps we may turn him from his path of self-destruction.”
“He'll not listen,” Moire Rose said fatalistically. “When Colin went to live with his father on Islay, he was taught the first rule of life was total loyalty to the Lord of the Isles. All Donald's children were taughtthat. Not one of them would break that rule, Fiona.Not one.Ye have no hope of changing a lifetime's habit, I fear.”
“Then it is unlikely Colly will live to see his bairns grown,” Fiona replied sadly. “They will burn Inverness, and the king will strike back at them. He will bring fire and death to the highlands.”
Alexander MacDonald carried out his purpose and burned Inverness to the ground. His highland army of ten thousand strong slaughtered the inhabitants of the town and looted everything they could. The MacDonald of Nairn returned home laden down with booty on a cold, rainy day. It had been raining for three days straight, and the barren branches of the trees were black against the gray sky as the men rode up the castle hill.
Fiona had grown calm with her purpose over the short time her husband had been away. By the time the king learned of the carnage in Inverness and could prepare a force to come north again, the winter would have set in. It was unlikely the king would strike during the winter months. He would wait until spring. And in those intervening months she intended to convince Colin MacDonald that his first loyalty must be to the king to whom he had sworn fealty. She would use whatever means she had to, attain her goal. Fiona greeted her husband warmly.
Pleased, he grinned boyishly, certain she finally understood his reasoning. He flung his booty at her feet; two bolts of fine soft wool—one the gray-blue color of a winter sky, the other a soft purple heathery tone. There was a forest-green-and-gold-brocade surcoat and several gowns. A length of sheer lawn for making veils. Several gold chains and a jeweled rosary. For his mother he had fetched back a bolt of wool in beige andcream tones to flatter her hair, several strands of agate, and a gold ring. For Alastair there was a miniature claymore, and for Mary, a pretty blue gown. This last sent a shiver through Fiona. What little lass had the dress belonged to, and had she been slaughtered?
