Bertrice Small - Betrayed

Alastair's small brow furrowed in thought. There was, he remembered hearing his mother say in the hall, a fine meadow below in the glen. He recalled it because his mam and Roderick Dhu had spoken of possibly barricading their own meadow so the cattle would not wander. Was it possible that Colla had wandered down into the glen and found another meadow of good sweet grass? Alastair didn't wait to ask anyone's permission. He slipped into the forest and began to descend the ben. No one else was up yet, and by the time they were, he would be back with Colla.

Eventually the trees began to thin. Alastair forded a pretty little stream, jumping from rock to rock until he reached the other side. After passing through a grove of birch trees, he found himself in a beautiful large open meadow that was filled with fat cattle. "Colla!" Alastair called out, immediately hearing a soft bellow in reply. Laughing, he followed in the direction of the sound, sighting the bull placidly browsing on the thick, sweet grass, surrounded by an admiring group of females. "Colla, 'tis not yer meadow-or yer wives, ye old knave." Alastair picked up a stick and began to herd the bull back to where they had come from. "Come along now, Colla. We must go home before they find us gone, or Mam will be angry."

The bull moved reluctantly, slowly at the lad's insistence, meandering in rambling fashion across the meadow, stopping every now and then to munch another mouthful of grass. They had almost reached the edge of the pastureland when there was the sound of hoofbeats behind them. Surprised, Alastair turned about to see a dark man upon a large black stallion bearing down upon him. The boy stopped dead, afraid.

The horseman came abreast of them, and the rider dismounted. “Have I caught me a cattle thief?" the deep voice demanded as he towered over the child. He seemed very tall and very dark to Alastair, whose small heart thumped nervously.

"No, my lord," the lad finally quavered. "I am not a cattle thief. Colla, our bull, wandered down the ben into yer meadow. I wanted to fetch him back before Ian got into trouble for his loss."

The Earl of Brae looked down into his own face, reflected in miniature. Startled, he could feel the heart he had thought he no longer possessed crack achingly. Struggling to find his voice, he finally said, "What is yer name, lad? Where do ye come from?"

"I am Alastair MacDonald," the little boy replied stoutly, "and I live upon Ben Hay with my mam, my sisters, Nelly, Roderick Dhu, and Ian."

"What is yer mam's name?" the earl asked, knowing it before the child even spoke it.

"Fiona," Alastair replied.

Angus Gordon shook his dark head slowly. He did not know how he felt, but he certainly was not angry at the little lad. "I'll help ye take yer bull back home, laddie," he said gently. "Would ye like to ride with me upon my horse? Have ye ever seen a beast so fine?"

"Aye," Alastair told him frankly. "My father had a great war horse like yers, but his was as gray as storm clouds. My father was killed at Lochaber."

The earl remounted his horse, reached down, and took the boy up on the saddle before him. The child was light and thin against him. Then, using his mount and the boy's stick, Angus Gordon herded the big bull back up the ben and into its own meadow. His gaze took in the fine cattle grazing there. For a brief moment he wondered if he was missing any of his own beasts.

On the edge of the small upland pasture a boy of about twelve appeared. Seeing Alastair upon the earl's horse, he turned on his heel, racing for the tower house. The earl smiled almost grimly. By the time the lad had reached the tower, its door was wide open. At the top of the steps stood a small group of people. A very tall clansman, the boy, Nelly between them and very much with child, two little girls with red-gold hair, and Fiona.

The earl brought his horse to a stop. "Well, madam," he said in a stern voice, "what have ye to say to me?"

"I don't owe ye any explanations, Angus Gordon," Fiona said. "Now put my son down. Where did ye get him?"

"Like his mother before him, in my meadow, stealing my cattle, though he says the bull is yers," the earl taunted her.

"The bull is mine, and ye know it, Angus Gordon," Fiona snapped. "Now give me my son, damn ye!"

"Ye mean my son, do ye not, lassie?" he replied. "Am I a fool that I canna see myself in the lad's face?"

"Put Alastair down," Fiona said quietly. "I will not stand upon the step arguing with ye, Angus. We will talk, but not here."

"Aye, we will talk, lassie," he said, "but we will talk at Brae. I am taking the lad with me, and when ye are ready to give me an explanation as to where ye disappeared to, and why my son thinks he is a MacDonald, ye will be welcome at Brae."

"My lord!" Her voice was anguished. "Don't shame the lad!"

"What are ye talking about?" he demanded. "This child is my son, and my heir, and ye have kept him from me by deception. I want to know why, and by God, madam, ye will tell me!"

"So," she snarled at him, "yer fine English wife has not been able to give ye an heir, Angus! How unfortunate, but she will not have my son to call hers. Set him down, or I will kill ye!"

"My English wife?" He looked absolutely puzzled. "I have no wife, English or otherwise, Fiona Hay."

"No wife?" Fiona looked astounded. "They said ye had a wife. That ye were wed to Elizabeth Williams."

What the hell was going on? "Who said?" he asked her.

"Angus, if ye ever really loved me, get down off that great beast of yers and come into my hall," Fiona pleaded. "We must speak, and it must be now. Please!" She held out her hand to him.

He looked at that hand, once soft and white, now roughened with work, and he felt tears pricking at the back of his dark green eyes. Lifting his son from his saddle, he handed him to the gangling, serious-faced clansman, then dismounted. "Verra well, lassie," he told her, his voice softening, "let us go into yer hall and speak of all of this." Turning to give Nelly a small smile, he said, "Is this fellow yer husband, then, Nelly? Yer aunt and uncle will be glad to know yer alive and safe with a good man."

"Aye, my lord, this is my husband, Roderick Dhu, and my stepson, Ian." Nelly looked at her mistress. "I'll take the lasses to the kitchen, my lady. Alastair, go back out into the meadow with Ian and Roddy, and begin building that barricade. Ye don't want to lose Colla again." Taking the little girls by the hand, she went into the tower while the men went out into the field.

"Come, lassie," Angus Gordon said, and Fiona led him into the tower house. Looking about him, he thought little had changed. It was still a poor place, but it was clean and had an air of contentment aboul it.

Fiona indicated the single chair by the fire, and she poured him a goblet of wine from the carafe on the high board. "Yer throat will be dry from yer ride," she said quietly, handing him the goblet before sitting on a stool before him.

"What happened?" he asked her, unable to restrain himself any longer. "Where did ye go, and why did ye leave me, lassie?"

"I didn't leave ye, Angus. I was tricked into it… told ye were to wed with the queen's cousin as a reward for yer loyalty to James Stewart. Told I was to allow The MacDonald of Nairn to abduct me, then to spy upon the MacDonalds for king and country. I was too afraid to refuse, and I was not certain then I was with bairn."

"Then ye don't deny that the lad is mine?"

"Of course he is yers, but Nairn, bless him, was so in love with me that he believed the lad was his. He thought he took after me with his dark coloring. Then, too, Nairn's sire was dark. He was a good father to him, Angus. He loved Alastair above everything."