"Yer a clever lass," Moire Rose said quietly, and again there was that ghost of a smile upon her lips. Then she said, "Ah, there is my old friend, William MacFie. I shall go and greet him. 'Twill frighten him to death, for he was always fearful of me when we were children."
"Why?" Fiona asked her, very curious.
"Why?" Her mother-in-law laughed harshly. "I was bigger than he was, for he is a verra little man. The Wee MacFie, they call him. I gave him the name, and it stuck. I am a small woman, but I could beat him in foot races every time. He didn't like me for it at all."
"Yet he is yer friend?" Fiona was surprised.
Moire Rose chortled, and without another word she made her way across the hall to greet the Wee MacFie, who actually blanched at the sight of her approach, looking desperately for an escape and finding none.
Now here was something she would not have thought. Moire Rose had a sense of humor. A dark one, but nevertheless it was there. She wondered if Nairn realized it. There was more to this woman than she or anyone else had thought. Her tongue was sharp, her heart was bitter, but perhaps she was not quite as bad as they had all believed.
Nairn came to her side, chuckling as he attempted to put an arm about her now nonexistent waist. “There have been many comments on how truly pleasant the hall looks, and how fine our ale and wine are, sweeting. I know the dinner will be as good."
"It will, and thanks to yer mother, my lord, for I had not ordered enough, never having entertained so large an assembly. She suspected it and discreetly advised Matthew to prepare more, saying I had thought better on it. It was a kind thing she did."
"Is that why ye tendered her an invitation into the hall this night?"
Fiona nodded absently, looking about and deciding it was time to serve the meal. "Let me go, Nairn," she told him. "I must be about my duties before the men are too drunk on our ale and wine to eat the fine meal Matthew has prepared for them." She hurried off to instruct the castle steward, and within minutes the servers were coming into the hall with plates and bowls, platters and pitchers. The high board was restricted to the family members to prevent insult to any of the chieftains by implying that one was more important than another. Only The MacKay and his wife were, understandably, at the high board. Below the dais the other chieftains scrambled for places.
The meal, consisting of a roast pig, two roe deer, a dozen geese, six capons, a ham, a large eel stew, a great pie filled with small game birds, several broiled trout from the swiftly flowing streams belonging to Nairns Craig, bowls of new peas, and lettuces braised in white wine, was much appreciated by the men. With gusto they ate and drank, tearing great hunks from the loaves of bread, spreading them lavishly with sweet butter using their thumbs, slicing wedges of sharp cheese with their dirks, washing it all down with wine or brown ale. The servants ran back and forth refilling pitchers and platters until the appetites of all the guests had been satisfied. When all the dishes had been cleared away, a servant brought bowls of tiny strawberries to the three ladies at the high board.
Colin MacDonald stood up. "Now that ye have eaten, my lords, I welcome ye again to Nairns Craig and ask that ye listen to what my brother, the Lord of the Isles, has to say to ye."
The hall grew very quiet, even the servants ceasing their labors, as Alexander MacDonald arose to speak to the gathering of the chieftains. The torches and the candles spread mysterious shadows across the room as he spoke.
"My lords," he began, "I must thank my brother of Nairn and his bonnie wife for offering us their hospitality. May I remind ye that this meeting among us is to remain secret. Today is the last day of May, in the year of our Lord fourteen hundred and twenty-five. None of us has yet been called to Inverness to pledge fealty to James Stewart. It is verra possible that the days of our autonomy are coming to an end."
Here and there were shouts of disapproval, but the Lord of the Isles held up his hand, and silence once more settled upon the hall.
"I don't like it either, and I will resist it, but we must face facts. In the eastern highlands and south of the Tay this king has united the clans. There has even been talk here in the north and in the west among some of the clans of pledging fealty. I will stop no man from doing so, nor will I count him my enemy unless he chooses to make himself such. I have called ye here to tell ye that each must do what he decides is best for his clan. Some of ye are small, no more than a few hundred men, and others of ye can command a thousand or more to yer banner. Be warned, however, that any who pledge fealty to James Stewart with the idea of then gaining his help to attack me and mine, will suffer in the worst possible ways. I will come down on ye like a wolf upon a hapless sheep. I will spare none of yer people, men, women, the aged, babes suckling at their mam's tit. I am the Lord of the Isles, and I will remain so."
Duncan Campbell stood up, saying, "And if we swear fealty to this Stewart king, and he asks our aid in overcoming yer power, my lord, what then? Our loyalties will be divided. Honor bound, we must obey the king, our overlord. Yet like ye, we are highlanders."
"Yer strong enough to stand by me until the last moment, Duncan Campbell," the Lord of the Isles said. "Yer family is not small or weak."
The Late MacNeill rose up. "I am here for my brother, Gilleonan, who is ill with running bowels and could not come. We are a small family, my lord, and pledged to ye as yer vassals. There is no doubt as to the course we will take. We will follow ye as we always have. We will not pledge ourselves to this Stewart until ye do." He sat back down.
"Discuss this among yerselves," the Lord of the Isles said, "but keep a rein on yer tempers. There will be no fighting or killing in my brother of Nairn's hall. Remember there are women here."
The chieftains began to discuss the matter in reasonable tones at first, but slowly their voices escalated as their deliberations deepened and views were frankly exchanged. The smaller families were concerned about their ability to defend themselves, not just from James Stewart, but from the larger families who would prey on them no matter the course they chose, as they had always preyed on them. The larger clans considered the wisdom of deserting their alliance with Alexander MacDonald to join with Scotland's king. Yet there was the distinct possibility that the new king would reward those who quickly came to his side rather than waiting for a gathering to be called in Inverness.
Robert Cameron muttered, " 'Tis like tossing the dice. One canna be certain if they will win."
"Are ye thinking of deserting our ancient confederacy, then, Robbie Cameron?" said William Maclntyre heatedly.
Those at the high board listened with interest to the exchanges going on about them.
"Duncan Campbell is not to be trusted," Nairn said to his elder brother. "The Campbells have always been jealous of our power."
"But not strong enough to defy us until now," Alexander MacDonald replied. "I can see he is considering the advantage of kneeling before James Stewart, but should he do so before I do, he will make an enemy of the MacDonalds for all time. The smaller families I canna blame for attempting to protect their own, for I will acknowledge to ye, and ye alone, brother, that I know in the end I will yield, too."
"James Stewart said to me when he reconfirmed my title and lands that I should kneel before him immediately after ye, Alex, and so I shall, but not before then, I swear it."
The Lord of the Isles clapped his younger sibling upon the shoulder and said, "I love ye, Nairn. I'm glad for the day our father brought ye to Islay to raise up with the rest of us."