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In the tiny family graveyard Fiona looked down at the shroud-covered body of her husband. “Let me see his face, Roderick Dhu,” she said. She knelt by him, clucking in a motherly fashion. Drawing forth a small piece of cloth, she wet it with her own spittle.
“Nairn, Nairn, I'll not let ye go to yer grave with a dirty face,” she said, fiercely scrubbing the black and sweat of battle that had dried upon his handsome visage. Then bending her head she kissed his cold, stiff lips.
“Godspeed, my lord. I really did come to love ye.”She rose and brought the children to gaze upon their father for the last time. “He loved ye all, my bairns,” she said to the three solemn children.
This done, she ordered Roderick Dhu to draw the shroud back up over her husband's head. The body was laid in its grave. The king's confessor came to their side and prayed over the corpse. The pipes played mournfully as the dirt was shoveled over Colin MacDonald's dead body. Fiona stood stonily silent until the ground was once again filled in. Beside her, Alastair and Mary were weeping softly. Next to them Johanna stood, her fingers in her mouth, uncertain of what was happening.
When the burial had been completed, Fiona thanked the priest and the two clansmen in Stewart plaid who had helped them. Nelly could scarcely take her eyes from her husband. She caught his hand, squeezing it tightly, her other hand drawing Ian between them. She felt almost guilty that her husband had survived when Fiona's had not, but Fiona, seeing them, smiled.
“Better one than none,” she said to Nelly. “’Twas God's choice, not ours, lass. Just remember to pray for Nairn's good soul.” She took her children, the others following her, and walked to where the king sat upon his horse. Reaching him, she curtsied low.
A tiny smile touched the king's lips upon seeing the tiniest of the children, a wee lass, struggling to emulate her elder sibling.
When they had made their obeisance, Fiona stood proudly and held out her hand, offering James Stewart the keys to the castle.
Gravely he took them from her. “We will speak later,” he told her. “For now I am hungry and long for a good supper.”
“Alas, my liege,” Fiona said, “I regret I canna oblige ye. The servants departed the castle when theylearned of yer victory. Food, I have, in quantity, but no servants to prepare it. There is a rabbit stew, some bread, and cheese Nelly and I have prepared for our supper, but it will not feed this army ye have brought to my gates.”
“Were ye not expecting me, then, my lady Fiona?” he asked her, laughing softly at the predicament she found herself in at this moment.
“I did not intend to ask ye to supper, my liege,” Fiona replied, and about them those nearest, hearing her retort, chuckled.
“Ye have not changed,” the king told her. “I shall share yer meager rations provided the bairns don't suffer hunger.”
“Then come into Nairns Craig,” Fiona invited him, “although I canna say yer welcome.”
