"Where is the entry?" Fiona asked him, surprised.
"In the stables, lady. When the passage was first excavated, it was thought better that it open into the stables rather than into the castle itself. That way, should an enemy discover it, that enemy could not enter the castle directly. Before I left with my lord, Ian and I inspected the passage carefully and swept it free of debris from creatures. Ian has kept it during my absence. Also, I oiled the lock and the hinges on the door at the end of the passage that will open out into the forest."
Fiona nodded. "Ye have prepared well."
“We canna ride our beasts through the passageway, as the ceiling is but a wee bit above my head," Roderick Dhu explained. "Let us go then, for Ian will be waiting for us with the bairns."
The two women donned warm wool cloaks over their garments. Fiona looked about the rooms where she had lived with Colin MacDonald. But for the children, it almost seemed a dream now. She followed Nelly and her husband from the apartment, dry-eyed. She had no time for weeping now. She had to think of the children.
They crossed to the stables. The courtyard was quiet, as the king had not yet allowed his soldiery in to loot Nairns Craig before he fired it. The horses were saddled and waiting, as were Ian and the three little ones. Roderick Dhu went to the back of the stables and opened a door. Lighting a torch, he showed Fiona the passageway, which slanted downward like a ramp.
"It goes beneath the walls and down the hillside," he explained to her. "We will have to carry torches to see the way. I hope the bairns are not fearful, for 'twill be darker than night."
Alastair was mounted upon his pony, and insisted on taking his sister Mary up behind him. The little girl grasped her brother about his middle, hanging on for dear life. Roderick Dhu went first, carrying a large torch to light the passage. Behind him and the stallion came Alastair and Mary, who could ride the pony without fear for their heads in the low passage. Fiona was next, leading the gelding with one hand, holding a torch with the other. She was followed by Nelly, who had Johanna upon her hip and led the white mare. Last was young Ian, who after carefully closing the door behind them and bolting it from the inside, picked up the reins of his father's horse and his torch to bring up the rear.
They moved slowly, carefully down the tunnel. It was dank and chilly within the passageway, but they knew the outdoors would be no more welcoming. The torches flickered eerily along the stone walls; the light they gave was almost ominous. To Fiona's surprise the children were very quiet as they traveled the length of the underground corridor. Finally, to everyone's great relief, Roderick Dhu said, "Ah, here's the end." They heard him fit the key in the lock of the dark wooden door. There was an audible click, and then the door swung open, revealing a tangle of brambles. Roderick Dhu sliced through the growth until they were able to lead their horses through. Free of the blackness of the stone walls, they all breathed easier.
Roderick Dhu helped his lady and then his wife into their saddles. Nelly had Johanna before her. He transferred Mary from her brother's pony to his son's mount, stilling the children's protest when he said, "We have a long way to travel today, and the wee pony will be tired enough at day's end just carrying young Nairn, Mistress Mary. Ye would not want to kill the poor beastie, would ye?"
Mary shook her head, her eyes large. "No, Roddy," she said, then smiled when he blew her a kiss.
Mounting the big stallion, Roderick Dhu led the little party onto a barely discernible path and into the deep forest. Shortly they stopped. The clansman slipped into the brush on foot to emerge a few minutes later with the two heavily laden pack horses. "The king will be surprised to find little of great value at Nairns Craig," he said with a wicked grin.
They rode on for several hours in the damp weather, finally stopping to rest the horses and feed the children. They found themselves upon the crest of a hill. Looking back, they could see the flames that were consuming Nairns Craig. The clansman's stare was black.
"How many of Nairn's men survived Lochaber?" Fiona asked him. It was the first time she had actually had the opportunity to discuss the battle with him. "Were there any besides yerself?"
He shook his head. "No, lady. All were killed. I escaped because I was with my lord. He and I stood off those who tried to prevent the Lord of the Isles' escape. When my lord was mortally wounded and died-it was a quick death, lady; he did not suffer-I stayed by his body, defending it from mutilation. The king came, saw us, and forbade that any kill me. Loyalty such as mine, he said, was a rare and valuable quality. Then, lady, he looked at Nairn, and when he recognized him, he said that he would bring his body home for an honorable burial even though Nairn had not acted honorably toward him."
"He understood Nairn no more than Nairn understood him," Fiona said sadly. "I am glad my husband's death was quick, Roderick Dhu. I wish I had the means by which to reward ye for yer fidelity. The king was right when he said it was a rare quality."
"I have my lord's claymore within the luggage," the clansman said. "I have saved it for the young Nairn. I will teach him how to use it when he is old enough, lady."
They traveled farther and farther away from Nairns Craig, going south, then east toward Ben Hay. They stayed off the high road, taking a longer but safer route. At first the children were amused by the journey, but after several days Alastair and Mary began to whine and complain that they wanted to go home to Nairns Craig. They were damp, and they were chilled, and they were tired.
They rode on. Suddenly, the land about them began to take on a familiar look. Through the fog and mist of a September afternoon Fiona saw Ben Hay. Within the hour they were toiling up its steep sides. Reaching the top, Fiona looked about her. She was dismayed. While the tower itself was intact, the few outbuildings were gone. Had the king kept his promise to her to repair the roof? She drew forth the key to the door, which she had carried with her since the day she had left Ben Hay. She fit it into the lock and turned it. The door creaked open, and she breathed a soft sigh of relief. The hall was swept clean, and there was some turf and dry wood by the fireplace. At least they would be warm tonight.
"We'll have to stable the horses inside with us," Roderick Dhu said. "At least until we can get some sort of stable built for them."
Fiona nodded and led her gelding inside, the others following close behind. "There's a cellar beneath the tower," she said. "Go down, Ian, and see if there is any straw there so we may bed the animals." Climbing the stairs to the second floor of the tower, she shook her head. It was dank and full of cobwebs. She climbed to the third-floor attic, where old Tam and Flora had slept, sighing as she saw that the roof had not been repaired and was leaking. She hoped the autumn weather would turn dry and warm, as it often did, so they might make the repairs necessary to Hay Tower. Back downstairs, she found one end of the hall strewn with straw, and the horses being watered and fed with the remaining precious fodder they had brought with them for when their beasts could not browse. There was a fire in the fireplace, and Nelly had several pots hanging over the flames, from which some delicious smells were rising. The children were playing happily near the warmth of the hearth.
"The roof leaks," she told Roderick Dhu. "The king did not keep a promise he made me long ago to repair it. He thought I should not return, I suppose." She could but hope he deposited the merks as promised. She suspected they would not find the cattle either. During their journey Fiona had told Roderick Dhu the truth of how she had come to be Nairn's wife. He had been somewhat taken aback, but then he had told her he understood. Afterward Nelly had said her husband agreed that the king had badly used Fiona and Nairn.
"The roof is easily fixed when the rain stops, lady," the clansman answered her. "We'll make a shelter for the horses that the wolves canna breach in the winter. We have time before the cold weather."
Along their route that day they had caught several rabbits. Ian had skinned one for his stepmother. Nelly had put it in one of the pots with wild carrots and onions. Now it bubbled enticingly. "I'll make
some bread tomorrow," Nelly said. "Praise heaven for the flour we brought along. I don't know where we'll get any more."
"We have wheat, do we not?" Fiona asked.
Nelly nodded. "Aye, several sacks."
"Then we'll grind our own flour. We used to do it when I lived here before. There is not a miller for miles. I'm certain the household implements are exactly where they were left when we departed Hay several years back. We'll look in the morning."
When the rabbit stew had been cooked, they shared it. Afterward they bedded down together in the hall by the fire. When morning came, they reheated what was left of their previous meal and finished it. Then, taking the children, Nelly and her mistress descended to the tower kitchen, which was located in the cellar of the building. Because the structure was atop the hill, the part of the cellar where the kitchen was located was higher than the rest of the level. There was a small door that opened out into an equally small walled kitchen garden.
"It's so overgrown," Fiona said sadly. "My mother began that garden. After her death Flora and I kept it up."
“But there are probably the same herbs ye grew yet there among the weeds," Nelly replied. "We've time to weed it before the winter sets in. We'll harvest what we can, and take seeds for next spring."
Fiona nodded. "Once I went to Brae I never did such humble work as cooking and cleaning, but I well know how, for there were none here but Flora, old Tam, and my sisters and me to do it." She began to search the kitchens, and to her delight found everything as they had left it when they went to Brae. It all needed sweeping and washing and cleaning, but the two women set to work with enthusiasm.
"My lord Alastair," Nelly said to the little boy, "please to watch over yer sisters while yer mam and I set this place to rights. Ye may play outside in the garden, for the day is fair."
The women worked hard while up on the tower roof Roderick Dhu and his son repaired the structure. It took them several days, but shortly Hay Tower was habitable once again. They began to stockpile fuel for the coming winter. Roderick Dhu chopped wood while Ian took Alastair out into the forest to search for fallen branches and kindling. Fiona and Nelly weeded the kitchen garden. To their delight, they found onions and carrots growing along with an abundance of herbs, which they harvested, carefully saving the seeds and putting them in packets which Fiona marked so they would know what they were planting come spring. Father and son hunted deer and were successful. The carcasses were hung in the kitchen larder.
On the second level of the tower were two rooms that had been bedchambers. Fiona and her children slept in the larger of the two, but she insisted that Nelly and Roderick Dhu have the other.
"Yer old servants slept in the attic," he protested. " 'Tis dry up there now that we've repaired the roof, lady."
"Should we be attacked," Fiona said, "the attic is too inconvenient a place for ye to be. Better yer here with us."
He did not argue further with her, for her logic could not be refuted. "Ian can sleep in the hall," Roderick Dhu said. "The lad's got ears like a fox and can hear a feather drop in the forest before the bird even knows it's gone," he said with a smile.
The tower was secure, warm, and dry. It was clean and, if sparsely furnished, at least neat. They were adding to their supply of fuel each day. The larder, while not full, was not bare. Still, they needed more than they had been able to carry with them from Nairns Craig if they were to survive the winter. They found the remains of their old carl, which had been left behind, the laird having supplied his own transportation for them when they left. Together father and son repaired the vehicle so they might take it down the ben to seek what they needed.
"Ten miles past Brae," Fiona told Roderick Dhu, "is a village that has a market every Wednesday. Ye can get what ye need there. See if ye can find a few laying hens, perhaps a milk cow, some flour to supplement what Nelly and I have ground from our wheat supply, a large basket of apples, and whatever else ye think we need to get through the winter. Be discreet, and if any should grow suspicious, claim to be from a village farther north that traitorous clansmen wiped out before the king's men rescued ye." She dug into the pocket of her gown and handed him some coins. "These should pay for what we need."
Roderick Dhu and his son were gone for two days. When they returned there was a brindled cow tied to the back of the cart. Two greyhounds loped alongside the rickety vehicle. "The bitch is past her prime, and her last offspring, a male, is blind in one eye. The owner was willing to take a penny for them." He grinned. "They may not be perfect, but they have ears to hear an intruder, and they can still hunt." He bent down, patting both dogs. He lifted a basket from the cart. "I found this, and her bairns along the road back," he said. "I thought the lasses would like them."
Mary and Johanna squealed in unison at the sight of a black cat with a white spot on her chest, and her two kittens. One was a gray tiger stripe. The other was white with patches of ginger.
"They'll keep the tower vermin free," Fiona noted dryly.
Roderick Dhu had been very resourceful. In addition to the items Fiona had suggested, he had also brought several sacks of onions, a basket of pears, two hams, six small wheels of cheese, a loaf of sugar, and some spices-not to mention half a cart of turf for the fire, atop which were set several barrels of ale and one small barrel of wine. In the next few days they carefully stored the food items while the two dogs and the cat and her kittens made themselves at home.
The clansman had opened a little section of the tower wall beyond the kitchen, and using the stones he had removed along with wood from the collapsed outbuildings, he built a stable for the milk cow and for the horses. Together he and Ian thatched the roof. The laying hens he had found would also be housed at night there, keeping them safe from predators.
"We should survive the winter verra well now," Fiona said quietly one night as they finished a simple supper. "No one will find us here. In the spring, Roderick, ye and Ian will go to Perth to see if the king kept his promise to deposit my silver merks with Martin the Goldsmith. The cattle I am owed I don't think we will get, although I will be bold and ask for them."
"Why would ye think yer silver is in Perth, lady?" Nelly said. "King James promised ye he would repair our tower for yer return one day, hut he did not do so. Is it likely that he kept his other promises?"
"We must pray that he did," Fiona said.
The winter was cold but not particularly hard. Only twice did they hear the wolves howling outside the tower, but the barking dogs seemed to persuade the wolves to move on. They did not go hungry, but neither were they ever really full. Fiona and Nelly rationed the food carefully and nothing was wasted. On March fifth Johanna was two years of age. Alastair would be five in June, and Mary four in September. Nairns Craig was fading from their minds, and they rarely asked now when Colin MacDonald would join them. They saw no one, heard no news. It was as if they were the only people left upon the earth.
Then one May morning, up the ben and through the forest came a familiar figure. He strode along, whistling, his brown robes swinging about his ankles as he came. The children saw him first, and, startled, ran shouting for Roderick Dhu. The big clansman came forth, his claymore in his hands. Seeing who their visitor was, he handed the weapon to Ian and went forward to greet Father Ninian.
"How did ye know we were here?" he asked the priest.
"The lady Fiona told me her history when we first met."
Fiona stood in the door of the tower, a smile upon her face. "Welcome, good Father," she said. "Come in, and let me give ye a cup of wine to slake yer thirst. Will ye stay with us tonight?"
"Gladly!" the priest said, his eyes taking them all in. They were thin, but certainly not beaten down. He had worried about Fiona when he learned that Nairns Craig had been destroyed. The king had assured him, however, that he had given Fiona, her children, and three servants their freedom, their horses, and whatever they could carry away from the castle. James had thought it generous, but Father Ninian had pointed out
that a woman and three small bairns were going to be hard put to survive the winter without shelter.
"Tell us all the news!" Fiona demanded when Ninian had been seated by the fire and a cup of wine pressed into his hand. "Ye are the first outsider I have seen since we left Nairns Craig. At least Roddy and Ian went down the ben to find us supplies last autumn."
Father Ninian looked about the hall. There was a high board with a long bench behind it. His was the only chair in the hall. Upon a narrow side board were set the six cups the Lord of the Isles had sent Alastair for his baptism. It was all very simple. He took a deep breath.
"The rebellion is over," he began. "At least for the time being. On the eve of Saint Augustine in November, Alexander MacDonald came into Holyrood Church in Edinburgh attired only in his shirt and drawers. The church was full. The Lord of the Isles was forced to come up the aisle upon his knees to the high altar, where he presented his claymore, holding it by its tip, to the king, who took it by the hilt and broke it. The Lord of the Isles then begged the king's forgiveness, admitting his faults and saying aloud for all to hear that he deserved nothing less than death. The king was quite willing to see the Lord of the Isles executed, but the queen publicly begged him to show mercy. And so he did.
"Alexander MacDonald is imprisoned in Tantallon Castle in east Lothian. It is virtually impregnable, lady, protected by the sea on two sides and by earthworks and ditches blocking the other approaches. It is a stronghold of the Douglases, who are again back in favor with the king. Undaunted, however, the lord's people have chosen his first cousin, Donald Ballach, to oversee the lord's power during his captivity. Donald Ballach is a hothead. The clansmen will rise again."
"So Alexander MacDonald has escaped death while Colin MacDonald lies in a cold grave, his castle in ruins, his family reduced to poverty," Fiona said bitterly. "Damn him-and all who war-to hell!"
The priest could not say he disagreed with her. "What can I do to help ye, lady?"
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