***

The following spring, the queen bore a second daughter, who was called Isabella. The year after, Queen Joan finally gave Scotland its long-awaited heir, a small prince who was called Alexander, but the baby was weak. It was feared he would not reach manhood, and so it was necessary that the queen continue in her efforts to give Scotland more princes.

The little prince had been born at year's end. Even in the snowy highlands the word had spread that the king at last had a son, and the good-natured highlanders celebrated the child's birth.


***

At Nairns Craig, Fiona sat at her loom in her hall watching her children playing upon the floor. Alastair would be three in late spring. Mary was sixteen months old, and a new baby would be born before the snows were off the bens in earliest spring. Mary was her father's image, and had been named for both her grandmothers, whose Celtic names were variations on the more Anglicized version.

"Times are changing," Fiona had said after her daughter was born. "Eventually we will make our peace with the king. Our daughter may even go to court to serve the queen. Better her name be understood by all, particularly those who don't speak our Gaelic language."

Moire Rose agreed with her daughter-in-law.

The MacDonald of Nairn laughed. "I cannot win between the two of ye. Is it natural that a wife and a mother-in-law be such good friends?" he teased them.

"If they live in the same house, it certainly is!" Fiona said, and Moire Rose laughed her odd harsh laugh.

The king had not called a gathering of the clans in either 1426 or 1427. The highlands remained relatively calm, but the Lord of the Isles and the majority of the clan chieftains had not yet sworn their fealty to James Stewart. He finally had no choice but to call a gathering of the clans in Inverness or admit to not being in full control of his entire land. The assemblage was set for mid-July. The tower of Inverness Castle was repaired for James Stewart's arrival that summer.

The Lord of the Isles sent out messengers to all the clans ordering them to Inverness in answer to James Stewart's command. In the four years the king had been back in Scotland he had left the highlands to themselves, and The MacDonald had seen that the peace was kept. The Lord of the Isles had almost decided to give this king his fealty. Before he made his final decision, however, he wanted to gain a full measure of the man.

Fiona knew that her brother-in-law would stop at Nairns Craig before reaching Inverness. His messenger said he would be traveling with his mother, the old Countess of Ross, who would also swear her fealty to the king if her son did. The lord's wife, a shy woman, preferred to remain on Islay. As Fiona had not been back to Islay since her initial visit, she had yet to meet either of these women. The old countess was said to be by far the more interesting.

They arrived at Nairns Craig in the company of Father Ninian. Fiona was delighted to see the priest, for she had birthed her second daughter three months prior. The infant, who was to be called Johanna, in honor of the queen, stood in need of baptism. Euphemia MacDonald, Countess of Ross, offered to be the baby's godmother, a great honor for the MacDonalds of Nairn. And afterward when Alastair and Mary had also been admired, and Johanna fed, the family gathered in the hall for the evening meal.

Father Ninian brought news. The infant prince, Alexander Stewart, had not lived through the winter, but the queen was with child again, and it was hoped she would provide the needed heir. "Ye are fortunate in yer bairns, Colin MacDonald," he said. "Yer son, praise God, is a healthy laddie, and yer daughters likewise."

"I'd like another lad," Nairn said, looking to Fiona.

"Ye’ll wait for the next one, Colly," she told him boldly. "I'm worn out bearing yer bairns so quickly. If we're to have another son, then ye must let me rest a bit. When Johanna is weaned, we will discuss it again, my lord."

The Countess of Ross, a big handsome woman, chuckled. "The lassie is right, Nairn. If ye love her, ye'll not kill her with yer bairns." She turned to Fiona. "Don't let him bully ye, lassie!"

Nairn burst out laughing. "Bully her? It is not possible for me to bully Fiona. Rather, she bullies me."

"She but keeps him in line a wee bit," Moire Rose said in defense of her daughter-in-law. "Nairns Craig is a happier place because of Fiona Hay. I bless the day she came here."

"My mother-in-law attributes to me more than I am deserving of, I think," Fiona said, embarrassed, signaling her servants with a raised eyebrow to begin bringing the meal.

"Will ye come to Inverness then, sister?" the lord asked her.

"Indeed. I would not miss it for the world. 'Twill be a grand day when ye and James Stewart make yer peace together."

"I have not yet decided," Alexander MacDonald said, toying with his cup.

"Then why do ye go, and why did ye call the clans to obey the king's summons?" Fiona asked cleverly.

"I merely wish to see the man, and then I will decide." The lord speared a haunch of venison off a platter held out to him by an attentive servant.

Fiona laughed. "Ye lie, Alexander MacDonald. 'Tis yer pride that will not let ye admit that this king is different."

"We shall go and see, my bonnie," the Lord of the Isles replied, but his eyes were twinkling at her boldness. From the moment he had first met Fiona Hay he had loved her for her courage. Of all his sisters-in-law, and he had several, she was his favorite.

They set out from Nairns Craig on a bright summer morning. Once they reached the main road to Inverness, which ran through the town of Nairn and past Cawdor, the road was crowded with the clansmen headed for the gathering. Fiona rode her gelding while the Countess of Ross and Moire Rose shared a comfortable padded cart with Nelly and the children. The countryside about them was beautiful, the blue hills reflected in the blue waters of the lochs. Outside of Inverness the Lord of the Isles left them to join his own troupe of four thousand men, his ranks swollen by those of his sons: Ian, his heir; Celestine of Lochalsh; and Hugh of Sleate.

The town would not have enough room to house the clansmen, especially with the king and court there. It had been decided that they would camp outside Inverness. Great pavilions for the Lord of the Isles were set up in the center of the encampment, with smaller tents surrounding them.

In order to make a great show both to honor James Stewart and to intimidate him just a little, it had been planned that the clans would all come down from the hills surrounding the city at the same time. James Stewart watched, fascinated, from Inverness tower as the highlanders arrived, arrayed in their many colorful plaids, silken banners flying in the wind, their pipes screeching but one tune, the MacDonald march. They covered the hillsides, their feet thumping as they entered the city, led by Alexander MacDonald, Lord of the Isles, and his powerful family. It was a great display.

"He is not shy about his position here, is he?" the king said to his uncle of Atholl.

"Ye must force him to yer will, my liege," Atholl said grimly. "These MacDonalds always have been difficult. If ye can break them for good and all, so much the better for Scotland."

"We will see," the king said with a small smile. He already knew what he would do, but he had shared it with no one lest his plans be revealed to others.

Having displayed their might parading through Inverness, the clans marched to their encampment outside the town. Their servants and women were already there. The fires were blazing, the meat roasting. The Lord of the Isles had invited his younger brother of Nairn and his family to share his accommodations. They had been assigned a large tent that was divided into three rooms. Charcoal braziers were scattered about the space and would take the chill off the evening air. It had been a long day. The children were fed and put to bed with a nursemaid in one of the two sleeping spaces. Moire Rose would also share their quarters. Johanna was in her cradle in the master suite.

Roderick Dhu and Nelly, still courting, had brought food into the lent's living space from the cook fires. There was salmon, just caught that afternoon in the river Ness, which flowed outside their tents and through the town. It was broiled and served with wild cress that had been gathered from the shallows of a nearby stream along their route. And there was also beef that had been packed in salt and roasted over the fires. Bread, butter, and cheese completed the meal for the two women, who ate together, Nairn having joined his brothers and nephews in the Lord of the Isles' pavilion.

"What will happen tomorrow, Fiona?" her mother-in-law asked. "What is this Stewart king really like? Will he be vengeful?"

Fiona shook her head. "I don't know," she said honestly. "I can tell ye that he is determined to rule all of Scotland. He will settle for no less. If he has left us alone these past few years, it was because he was busy in the lowlands, or perhaps he thought to intimidate us, or possibly both. He is a determined man."

Moire Rose nodded. “I would see him, for I have never before seen a king of Scotland."

"I hope ye will not be disappointed," Fiona said. "He is not handsome. The lord and Nairn both tower over him in height but, to be fair, not in stature."

Outside, the encampment began to quiet down. The two women sought their beds. After lifting Johanna from her cradle, Fiona nursed the sleepy child, changed her napkin, and set her back down in her cradle. Then, bathing in a small basin that Nelly had brought her, she asked her servant, "Did ye see the old woman? Is she comfortable?"

"Aye, I helped her to undress and settled her down," Nelly said. "She ought to take a young woman in service, for she needs one. Her poor old Beathag can barely walk now, let alone come on such a trip."

"Beathag has been with Moire Rose her entire life. I think she lives on simply because her mistress needs her," Fiona said. "Go to bed now, Nelly. Tomorrow we'll get to see the king."

"I have seen him," Nelly said sourly. "I do not think much of James Stewart. I think the clans foolish to trust him. Ye trusted him, and look what he did to ye, my lady."

"Hush, Nelly, do not be angry anymore. 1 am content with Nairn, and we have fine bairns. What more can a woman want but a good man and children?" Fiona patted her servant comfortingly.

"Ye do not really love him, and ye have a right to love," Nelly said.

"I do not love him like Black Angus, 'tis true," Fiona admitted, "but I love him in another way, and he loves me. Oh, Nelly, what if Colin MacDonald had been a brute and not the kind of man he is? Neither of us could have borne it these last three years. I have more than I ever expected to have, and ye do, too. When will ye marry Roderick Dhu? He is desperate for ye to become his wife. Ye've courted for two years."

Nelly sighed. "I love the great gawk," she said, "but what if one day we could go back to Brae, my lady? I could not go with ye if I were wed to my highlander. Better I remain a maid."

"Nelly, we will not be going back to Brae. Black Angus has wed with the queen's cousin. I would not be welcome there. I have my own husband, and ye have a chance of a good husband, too. Take it, lassie!"

Nelly bid her mistress good night and went out into the living space, where her pallet was located by a charcoal brazier.

Fiona lay down upon the bed that had been made up of fir boughs covered with a feather bed. Pulling up the fox coverlet, she fell asleep. She awoke to hear her husband swearing softly as he stumbled about in the darkness. "Colin! Ye'll waken the bairn," she cautioned him.

The sound of her voice drew him to the bedding. He yanked his boots off and almost fell upon her. "Ah, sweeting, there ye are," he said, his hands fumbling to find her breasts.

"Yer drunk!" she accused him, but she couldn't help laughing softly. She had never seen him this way.

"Just a wee bit drunk," he assured her. "My brothers could not walk to their beds, and had to be carried," he bragged, placing a wet kiss on her lips. "Jesu, yer sweet," he muttered against her soft hair. "Do ye not love me a little bit, Fiona mine?"

"Aye," she told him. "A wee bit, Colin MacDonald." She shifted to find a more comfortable spot, for he was lying half across her.

He nuzzled her neck. "Ye know what I want, sweeting," he said suggestively. His hands were caressing her gently.

"Colin," she chided him, "ye have to go before the king in the morning. If ye don't get some sleep, yer head will ache ye something fearful, I guarantee ye. Ye’ll shame us all."