The countryside about them was almost unnaturally quiet during the next few days. The stream of returning clansmen on the road below the castle had become nonexistent. It was as if they were the only people left alive in the entire world. They knew they were not, however, for they could see the fires burning in the distance. The fires in fields, cottages, and chieftains' houses burned with an eerie light during the day, and bright red-orange during the night hours. The horizon was hazy blue with smoke. The fires came closer and closer to Nairns Craig, yet still there was no sign of Colin MacDonald.
Then one afternoon Ian scrambled down the ladder from the tower roof and dashed into the hall. "There's a large party of armed men several miles off, lady," he gasped. "They seem to be coming in this direction. Oh, lady, there are so many of them!"
"Alastair!" Fiona called to her son, who was now four years of age. "Go with Ian. He will watch from the roof and, when the men are nearer, will call down to ye. Then ye must come to the hall and tell me immediately, for the enemy will be upon us, I fear. Mary, watch Johanna. Nelly, come with me. We must be certain the gates are fast."
The two women ran out into the courtyard to check that the great wooden beams that they had lifted into place with Ian's help several days before were tightly in place. They were. Beyond it was the iron yett. Together the two women lowered an interior yett that was not used except in case of attack. If the enemy could batter the first yett and the gates down, he would find himself faced with yet another iron barricade to overcome. Content that their preparations were as good as they could be, Fiona and Nelly returned to the hall, bolting the door of the castle behind them. There was plenty of food within the castle, and an interior well for water. They could hold out indefinitely if they chose to do so. They waited.
Finally, Alastair came racing into the hall. "They be on the castle road, Mam," he called to Fiona, who jumped up to hurry to the tower roof.
Ian pulled her up the last step. "They're almost here," he said.
Fiona looked over the edge of the parapet. The sight was a very frightening one. The high road was filled with men on horseback and men-at-arms for as far as the eye could see. The castle road was overflowing with horsemen, and a very impressive host had arrayed itself before the castle gates. Fiona felt the blood draining from her face.
"Dear God!" she whispered. " 'Tis the king himself. The king has come to Nairns Craig, Ian!"
A horseman moved forward, banging his lance hard upon the gates so that a loud noise reverberated like thunder throughout the castle.
"Open in the name of the king!" he shouted.
Fiona stepped up onto the parapet of the walls, steadying herself with a hand on the stonework. "I will not open the gates to any man," she called down to them, "until my husband returns. Why does the king besiege the home of an innocent woman and her bairns?"
"Mistress Fiona," the king called up, "open yer gates! Yer husband, the traitorous MacDonald of Nairn, has come home." James Stewart signaled with his hand, and a horseman came forward leading another beast. The horseman was Roderick Dhu, and the animal he led was Colin MacDonald's great stallion, across which was slung a body.
"I have brought him back, lady," Roderick Dhu called up to her. His dirty face was wet with his unashamed tears.
Fiona thought her heart would break. She felt enormous grief for Colin MacDonald, a man who had loved her so unconditionally and whom she had grown to love. "The family burial ground is there," she said, pointing. “If ye would be so kind, my liege, to have yer men dig my husband's grave, I will allow ye entry to Nairns Craig after he is properly laid to rest. Have ye a priest among that rabble of yer retainers?"
"Aye," the king answered.
"Dig the grave next to his mother, whom we buried but a few weeks back. Yer men will easily find the spot." She stepped down from the parapet and out of their view. "When they are ready, come into the hall, Ian, and we will go out. Thank God yer father has survived."
"What will happen to us, lady?"
"I don't know," Fiona said quietly, and then she climbed down the ladder from the roof and went down into the hall.
"What has happened?" Nelly asked her fearfully.
"The king is outside our gates with yer husband, who has survived, and the body of Nairn. When Nairn's grave is dug we will go out. They have a priest with them. Let us dress the children properly so we may not be ashamed before the king." She hiccuped a sob but swallowed it hard, jamming the cry so fiercely back down her throat that it ached. She had no time now for grief.
When the grave had been dug, Ian came to tell them. From a corner of the hall he picked up his pipes, for he had been apprenticed to the castle's piper. The children were fearful. Fiona took a moment to calm them.
"Yer father is dead," she said quietly. "The king has brought his poor body home to us for burial. It is a kindly act," she lied to them. "He waits outside our gates. Ye will be respectful of the king, for he has the power of life and death over us. Do ye understand me, my bairns?"
"Am I now Nairn?" Alastair asked astutely.
Fiona shook her head. "No," she said. "The king will send us from this place, for yer father rebelled against him. Ye, my son, must not ever rebel against yer liege lord. The king will punish us for yer father's fault, but he is right."
"Is not my uncle Alexander king?" the boy asked, confused.
"There is but one king in Scotland, Alastair," Fiona told her son. "His name is James Stewart. Remember that, laddie."
The boy nodded.
"Now, let us go outside to greet the king and bury yer father," Fiona said, leading them from the castle.
Outside the gates the assembled men heard the sound of an interior yett being raised. It creaked and groaned as its ancient pulley drew it up. Some few minutes elapsed, and the second yett was slowly raised. Then the gates were flung open. Two women and three small children stood in the entry of Nairns Craig. A young lad led them forth, his pipes playing the MacDonald lament as they came. They walked with dignity, ignoring the king and his men as they directed their steps toward the graveyard. Neither James Stewart nor his men moved as the little party of mourners strode past them. They had faced many widows and orphans over the past few weeks, but none quite this close. The king had insisted upon coming to Nairns Craig when they found Roderick Dhu, wounded and protecting his lord's body on the field of battle at Locha-ber. Not just a few men wondered why the king had singled out The MacDonald of Nairn and personally escorted his body home.
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.