Chapter 9

The Great Hall at Islay Castle was larger than Brae but not as large as Scone. It was, nonetheless, a fine hall with two great baronial fireplaces, beautifully woven tapestries upon its gray stone walls, and silken battle flags hanging from its carved rafters. The floor was swept clean, for, as the Lord of the Isles explained to Fiona, his wife did not like rushes. It only encouraged peeing in the corners and the disposal of unwanted food, which the hounds sometimes ate. The high board was laid with a fine white cloth and held a silver candelabra with beeswax candles. The rest of the castle's inhabitants ate at the trestles below.

There were but five places set at the high board. Fiona was seated next to the Lord of the Isles himself in the place of honor. Nairn was to his brother's left. To his left his brother's captain, another of the half-brothers, Owen MacDonald, sat. To Fiona's right was a priest, whom the Lord of the Isles introduced to her as Father Ninian.

"He travels the highlands ministering to those in far-flung regions," Alexander MacDonald said. “We are fortunate to see him twice a year, sometimes three."

The priest greeted Fiona. "God be with ye, my lady."

"I thank ye, Father," she replied. "Will ye hear my confession?"

"Of course, my child," he answered her, "but I should far rather perform yer marriage this night."

Fiona shook her head. "Nairn has stolen me," she said low. "I will handfast him for my reputation's sake, but I must find peace within my own soul before I can stand beside him in the church before a priest. Please understand, Father."

The priest nodded. "I will pray for ye both."

Fiona turned to her host. "And where are yer sons, my lord?"

"They have gone with their mother," he replied. "Their company pleases her."

"My lord"-Father Ninian interrupted their conversation-"I would hear this lady's confession before the handfast, not after." He smiled briefly at them to lessen the rebuke in his tone.

"Aye," Alexander MacDonald agreed with a grin. " 'Tis better she unburden herself now, for later her sins could be worse!" He winked at his brother. "Eh, Nairn?"

The priest arose, and Fiona followed him from the hall. He led her to the chapel and into a small privy chamber. "Now, my child," he said, "if ye would like to unburden yerself to me…"

Fiona looked carefully about her. Shutting the door softly, she pulled the king's coin from her pocket and handed it to the priest.

His face betrayed nothing as he carefully examined it, matching it against his own identical coin. Then he said softly, "Where did ye obtain this, my child?"

"From James Stewart himself," Fiona said in even lower tones.

"Tell me yer story," Father Ninian responded, listening as the beautiful young woman before him spoke quickly yet succinctly of her history. When her narrative had come to an end, the priest said, "Now I understand why ye would not take Nairn in the sacrament of marriage, but ye know, do ye not, that the handfast is just as binding under law, both civil and church? And ye'll surely conceive a bairn, for the MacDonalds are prolific breeders. What of any child?"

"I am already with child," Fiona told him, holding up her hand for his silence while she explained. "The bairn is not Nairn's, although I will lead him to believe it is for the safety of my infant. Had I been certain before I left Scone, I would not have let the king force me to this, but I was not certain. I feared that if I bled after telling the king I was with child, he would have believed me lying to have my own way and deceive him. I have learned, good Father, that ye canna trust the words of the mighty. Unable to punish me, he might have punished my Black Angus." A tear rolled down her cheek. "I could not let Angus Gordon suffer for me."

The priest nodded, his heart sad. So much suffering for their blessed Scotland, but one day with sacrifices such as those Fiona Hay was making, the land would surely know peace. He handed her back her coin. "Do ye need something passed on, my child?"

"Tell the king that the Lord of the Isles will bide his time for now until he decides just how determined James Stewart is to rule all of Scotland. For the present, Alexander MacDonald will remain at peace in the highlands, but while some of the northern and western clans may swear fealty, most of the clans will wait to see what he is going to do. That I have from his own mouth."

"The king will have yer message verra soon, I promise ye. I had planned to spend some time here on Islay, but I will shortly take my own departure. Drysdale, our tinker friend, will soon be heading south for the winter months. 'Tis he who will carry yer message. Now, so we may not be accused of deception, ye will make yer confession to me."

"I thought I already had," Fiona said softly.

The priest considered, and then he said, “Why, so ye have, my child, so ye have. Kneel and receive my blessing."

"What is my penance?" Fiona asked him.

"In honor of yer marriage," Father Ninian said, "I will absolve ye of any penance, Fiona Hay. Ye have been given a verra hard road to take." He raised his hand in blessing over the penitent.

They returned to the Great Hall of Islay Castle. The clansmen, respectful, made clear that they thought the bride very beautiful. She wore her violet damask gown. It had a short waist that was fitted just below her breasts, a simple rounded neck, a full flowing skirt, and long flaring sleeves that were lined in a reddish-purple gauze shot through with silver stripes. Her hair was parted in the center and held by a silver caul. She had chosen to wear no jewelry except her clan badge despite Nelly's insistence. Save for that badge, it was all Angus Gordon's jewelry. Though she possessed it, she would never wear it again. One day she would tell her child the truth and pass it on to the bairn, but Fiona did not think she had any right to the jewelry now. Nairn agreed with her decision not to wear it. He would give her her own gems, he promised.

Now Colin MacDonald stood before the high board in his eldest brother's hall, and before the Lord of the Isles he swore to take Fiona Hay to wife, in handfast. When Fiona then declared her intentions to take him as a husband in handfast, they were considered legally wed for the period of one year. If at the end of that time, either decided not to formalize the union within the church, they were free to go their own way. Any children born of a handfast marriage were considered legitimate despite the parents' future decision to continue or discontinue the union. The handfast must be sworn to before witnesses, which all the men in the hall constituted.

The meal was served. Roast boar, roe deer, game pies in red wine gravy, stewed eels, raw oysters taken from the beaches and waters surrounding Islay, a single capon in lemon and ginger as a courtesy to Fiona, several large sea trout upon beds of cress, cod in cream and sweet wine. There were fresh-baked bread, tubs of sweet butter, and several wheels of cheese, along with ale and wine.

"Where are the greens?" Fiona asked, slightly taken aback by the heavy bounty. "There is not a pea or a beet, an onion or a carrot to be seen. Have ye no lettuces?"

"The men don't like them," the Lord of the Isles said. "The kitchen will prepare them for my lady, who wishes them. I didn't think to ask the cook tonight, but ye shall have them as long as ye are with us, my bonnie."

Fiona nibbled on breast of capon and buttered bread, sipping on a fine wine as she did so. She watched, not certain whether to be amazed or appalled, as the men about her devoured all the food laid out for them. Her own belly rolled slightly at the sight and smells. It was much too rich. Only the wine seemed to calm her.

When they had finished eating, the Lord of the Isles's piper took up his pipes and played for them. After a time four crossed swords were placed upon the stone floor of the hall. The Lord of the Isles and The MacDonald of Nairn leapt down from the high board to dance amid the weapons. As the music became more fierce and wild, Fiona realized that the two men were in a serious competition. Their dancing was furious, almost frenzied. She gazed, fascinated, her green eyes glittering with excitement as she leaned forward to watch the two brothers.

"It has always been this way between them," Owen MacDonald said to her. "They are equally matched in the dance."

"Who will win?" she wondered aloud.

"Sometimes my lord wins, and at other times yer husband outdances our elder sibling. There is no bitterness. It is all for amusement."

Her husband. The two words were very startling, for to her the hand-fast had been nothing more than a means to protect her child. Had she refused the ceremony, she knew that Nairn would have kept her tightly by his side. Their temporary marriage, however, gave her a great freedom. She was now considered one of the MacDonalds. She hated James Stewart for putting her in this position, but he had been right. The priest and the other agents would not have the advantage of intimacy that she would have. She smiled absently, thinking of how she had said she would not marry Nairn, and of the king's response: that it was up to her what she did as long as she passed along what she learned.

"Look, lady," Owen MacDonald said. "My lord is tiring. Yer husband will take the competition this night."

And sure enough the Lord of the Isles gave way to his brother of Nairn, grabbing up his swords and laying them aside with a bow. Bounding up onto the high board, he held out his hand to Fiona. "Come, Fiona MacDonald, and dance with yer bridegroom." He led her down to the hall floor, handing her off to his brother of Nairn.