Chapter 19

Sit," Jamie Stewart commanded as the echoes faded. "I will hear the Bishop of Argyll first on the subject of chiefly jurisdiction," he added, taking his seat.

What followed was, to Muriella, tedious business of barons, lairds, and the rights and powers that each possessed or wanted to possess.

Knowing that her father would ignore anyone who challenged his right to his powers of pit and gallows, and certain that Rob would, too, she decided to try again to find Rob in the gathering. A firm hand on the arm near her mother stopped her.

Resigned, Murie tried to recall what she heard but found it too hard to concentrate or care. Never had she imagined that such an important occasion could prove to be so dull. At last, the King said, "We'll suspend these proceedings now until after the midday meal, when we will discuss this subject further."

Murie sighed, hoping they would give everyone time to eat and walk about. Her bottom ached.

Rob, sitting next to Andrew, could see Murie and wondered if she realized the importance to the proud Highland chiefs of the subject under discussion.

He, too, had seen Dougal and Pharlain sitting on the other side of the central aisle from him and Andrew, and closer to the front of the hall. Dougal had looked back twice, and Pharlain did just then, and smirked. Glancing at Andrew to see him muttering to the man on his other side, Rob decided it was just as well that he hadn't seen the smirk and that he had his charters with him, safe from possible schemers.

Shifting his gaze to Murie, he noted that she was fairly twitching on her bench. When the King declared that they would take time to eat, Rob saw Lady Aubrey put a quieting hand on his wife's shoulder as if she feared the lass might spring to her feet.

When everyone began heading for the doors, Rob stuck close to Andrew.

In the inner chamber, Joanna told the ladies that they might do as they pleased until the servants were ready to serve the meal, whereupon Lady Nisbet said immediately, "Och, Aubrey, dearling, I must tell ye…"

Taking advantage of Lady Aubrey's distraction, Murie approached Lady Sutherland. Introducing herself and briefly explaining her love of folklore and clan histories, Murie said, "I heard a tale recently that I think came from the Sutherlands, my lady. I ken fine that that is your lord husband's family, but perhaps you might know the answer to a question I have."

"Prithee, which tale would it be, Lady MacAulay? I dinna ken all of the Sutherland tales, but I have heard many. I will tell you what I can."

Explaining that the tale involved a girl who had jumped or fallen from a tower window, she got no further before Lady Sutherland said, "Faith, I ken that tale fine, my dear. 'Twas a Sutherland lass called Margaret, who fell in love years ago with someone quite unsuitable. Her father was furious and locked her in a tower room, but her maidservant smuggled her rope enough to climb down to her lover. Unfortunately for the pair o' them, on the appointed night, Lord Sutherland had set his steward to watch, and the man caught the lad approaching the tower. Sutherland entered the tower chamber to see his daughter fling herself out the window."

"How dreadful," Murie said. "Have you heard other, similar tales, my lady?"

"Not as horrid as that one," Lady Sutherland said with a grimace. "But I hear few others from outside our own clans. Tell me how you have learned so many."

Although Murie explained about Annie's teaching and the many ceilidhs that the three MacFarlan sisters had attended, thanks to their mother's many kinsmen, her mind was awhirl. Now that she knew how similar the two tales were, could she persuade Rob how unlikely it was that two fathers in two such distant parts of Scotland had locked their daughters in tower rooms and watched them leap out their windows?

By midafternoon, Rob had tired of the pompous declarations, bickering, and shouting over what sounded like fine points of law. But when a gillie mounted the dais and spoke to Will Fletcher, his interest reawakened. Evidently, everyone's did, because the din faded to silence so complete that Rob could hear Andrew breathing.

James said soberly, "Six men broke ward last night and fled the castle. I now hear that they have been arrested and are returning." Looking left and right, his stern gaze encompassing the hall, he added grimly, "I have striven for two years to institute one set of laws so that every Scot may understand them and know that all must obey them. I told every man under ward the penalty for defiance, did I not?"

"Aye, your grace," rumbled a chorus of male voices.

"If a King of Scots, as chief of chiefs, fails to keep his word," James went on, "the laws that our Parliament issues will mean nowt. Our nobles will continue to defy them, and common folk will know not which laws or whose they must obey. The penalty for high treason and thus for each man who broke the King's ward is death. They are Clanranald, Mackenzie of Kintail, Campbell of Lorne…"

Rob fixed on that last name and barely noted what followed until James said, "So be it then. I take nae pleasure in this, so we will move ahead. My lord of Sutherland, before the interruption you were about to make a suggestion."

Sutherland reminded everyone that they had agreed to further discussion of chiefly privilege. "Now might be a good time for it, your grace."

No sooner did Jamie nod than Pharlain stood. "Your grace," he said loudly, "I be Pharlain of Arrochar. A chief must be able to set fees for traveling on his waters, hunting his deer, or catching his salmon, aye?"

Rob's interest increased.

James said, "Do the chiefs pay such fees themselves when they travel?"

"Nay," Pharlain replied. "We collect them from others for profit, so if a laird passing through our waters collects fees on his as well, we excuse each other."

James shifted his gaze to Alexander, Lord of the Isles. "Cousin, do ye pay such fees when ye travel?"

"Nae, I tell them who I am," Alexander said with a snort. "So would ye."

Looking again at Pharlain, James said, "Where do you collect your fees?"

Pharlain shrugged. "We dinna collect passage fees yet, your grace. We expect to begin anon on the Loch of the Long Boats, though."

"You and who else?"

Pharlain hesitated, and Rob hid a smile. "Campbell," Pharlain said. Then he added hastily, as if he had just recalled that more than one Campbell chief was in the hall, including the all-powerful Argyll, "Campbell of… of Lorne, your grace."

Grimacing, James said, "If you mean to collect fees on the Loch of the Long Boats, you should know that I consider its entrance a royal property. After all, that loch opens on the Firth of Clyde, which the royal castle of Dumbarton protects for all Scots. Moreover, I did not hear you mention MacAulay, who, as I recall, does guard the entry to the Loch of the Long Boats. Lord MacAulay is here, is he not?"

"I am, your grace," Rob said, standing.

"What say you to this, my lord?"

"I say that the Gare Loch and the Loch of the Long Boats shall remain open and free to all who would travel on them, your grace."

"That agrees with mine own expectation. So be it. The scribe will so note."

Looking chagrined, Pharlain sat down.

James looked over the hall as if he expected someone else to speak. When no one did, he said, "Now would be a good time for any man who has not presented the royal charters granting him rights to his lands to do so. Therefore, I do adjourn this body until tomorrow midmorning, when we will assemble in the courtyard."

Beside Rob, Andrew growled.

"What is it, sir?" Rob asked quietly. "You have your charters, aye?"

"Aye, sure. But this be the devil's own time to present them. His grace be in a foul mood after deciding to hang them scoundrels for breaking his ward."

"True," Rob admitted. "But the charters speak for themselves. Moreover, Pharlain irked him with his blethers about collecting fees."

"He did, withal," Andrew agreed more cheerfully. "The man were daft to do that, but ye're happy enough, I trow. Argyll himself wouldna try now to inflict fees on all of us who travel the loch. Nor would Argyll scheme to seize Ardincaple."

" 'Tis unlikely," Rob agreed. While they stood awaiting his grace's departure into the inner chamber with Joanna on his arm, he saw Murie turn to her mother and could almost hear her asking if the ladies should follow them in there or not.

"Mam?" Murie asked when her query met silence.

"We go wherever her grace goes unless Lady Sutherland says we must not," Lady Aubrey said. "What were you and she discussing earlier?"

Murie smiled. "I asked her about a tale I'd heard at Ardincaple that was the same as one I'd heard long ago about the Sutherlands of Dunrobin," she said.

She had spoken quietly but apparently not quietly enough.

"Och, but I heard that ye ken many of our old tales, Lady MacAulay, and tell them at ceilidhs and such," Lady Nisbet said archly, moving closer. "Mayhap ye will tell us one tonight. What tale was it that ye got from Dunrobin?"

"A gey sad one," Murie said. "About a girl named Margaret who threw herself from a tower window to her death."

"Och, then I ken the other one ye must have heard," Lady Nisbet said. "It came from me own family, that. I dinna ken Ardincaple, but that tale be about me cousin's daughter, Eliza, who ran off wi' her lover. Her mam put it about that she had flung herself out o' her window tae her death, may God forgive her sin!"

"Put it about?" Murie said. "Do you mean that tale was untrue?"

"Nobbut foolishness. The lassock ran off tae Ireland wi' one o' their gillies when her mam and da tried tae make her marry the heir tae another noble house, one o' them dunamany Highland Macs. I dinna mean tae offend ye, Cousin Aubrey, but 'tis all I can do tae remember ye're a MacFarlan and no some other Mac."

"Such names can be confusing, aye," Lady Aubrey said mildly.

" 'Twas the shame o' her beloved Elizabeth running off wi' a naebody as stirred me cousin tae spin her lies. Sithee, her own mam were cousin tae Sutherland, and we never hear the end o' that, so I'm thinking now that she may ha' taken her tale from theirs. Sithee, though, we never talk about Eliza or her tale," she added with a virtuous air. "So I'd ask ye tae keep a still tongue on it, too, if ye please."

Murie assured her that she would, ignoring the irony of such a request coming from such a bletherskate. Her thoughts had already flown to Rob.

If Lady Nisbet's version was true…

Without further comment, Murie followed her mother and Lady Nisbet to the inner chamber, where the King now stood near the great stone hearth. A fire burned gently in a fireplace big enough for two or three men to stand upright inside.

A number of people followed them into the chamber, including—not much to Murie's surprise—Pharlain and Dougal. Rob and Andrew entered last of all.

When they joined the three ladies, Murie impulsively turned to Rob only to have her eager gaze meet a beetling frown.

"Why do you look at me like that?" she demanded in an undertone.

His eyes twinkled in response, and his brow cleared. "Sorry, lass," he said, drawing her aside. "If I looked dour, it was because of Dougal and Pharlain. What can they be doing here?"

"Sakes, sir, they mean to mount an argument against my father's charters, of course. But, Rob, come away from Lady Nisbet. I must tell you—"

"Shhh," he said, nodding toward the fireplace. "His grace is about to speak."

The stocky James faced them all with his hands behind him and his legs apart. "I will see your charters, one man at a time," he said. Gesturing to the cleric at a nearby table, he added, "The scribe will note any details. Who would be first?"

Andrew hesitated while another man rushed forward. Murie thought her father seemed uncharacteristically reticent. He fixed his attention on the King.

Glancing at Pharlain and Dougal to catch Dougal smirking at her, she touched Rob's arm and murmured, "Something is amiss. Dougal looks too confident."

"What happens will happen," Rob murmured back. "Hush now, before you draw undesired notice."

She wanted to stamp a foot, but she knew he was right about drawing notice, so she kept quiet. Having all she could do to stand still, she watched Dougal.

Then she heard James say, "Ye're Andrew Dubh MacFarlan, aye?"

Murie's attention flew back to the hearth, where Andrew stood with James.

"Aye, your grace," Andrew replied with a polite nod.

"You have a charter to show me, I think."

"I do, aye," Andrew said, carefully spreading the first of his precious charters on the table for his grace and the scribe to see.

Murie glanced around the room but saw naught to disturb her other than the mere presence of Pharlain and Dougal.

"This is all in order," James said, as the scribe wrote swiftly on vellum.

The next one received similar attention and comment. Then, with a smile, James said, "That is more than sufficient, sir. Do you swear fealty to me?"

"I do, aye, and for all time, your grace," Andrew said, dropping to a knee.

Feeling a surge of pride in her father, Murie looked around again and saw Pharlain pushing forward as others made way. Prickles of warning stirred before he spoke, but she could do naught to stop whatever was about to happen.

Pharlain said dulcetly, "Forgive my intrusion, your grace, but if yon documents purport to bestow title to Arrochar, they are invalid, rendered so seven years ago. If you will permit…" Pausing expectantly, he hefted the scroll-like object he carried, wrapped in white cloth.

The sensations Murie experienced then made her feel faint. She was sure that only her awareness of Rob's strong, solid body close behind her kept her upright.

Frowning, James motioned Pharlain forward. Dougal was moving, too.

Pharlain removed the white cloth to reveal a vellum scroll with red wax seals attached to it, similar to the charters that Andrew had presented.

"What is this?" James asked as Pharlain handed it him.

"Why, what would it be, your grace, save the current charter?" Pharlain said smoothly. "It clearly entitles me and me alone to all the lands of Arrochar. As you can see by its date, it supersedes any charter in the possession of Andrew Dubh."

Murie's gasp brought a look of triumph to Pharlain's face and another smirk to his son's, making her wish that she could slap them both soundly.

Hoping to ease the shock he sensed in Murie, Rob put his hands on her shoulders. When he felt her press back against him, he hoped she was taking comfort from his presence but returned his attention to the King.

Jamie was still frowning.

Beside him, Andrew had turned white. Now, blood surged back into his face, and Rob knew that his good-father's temper was fighting his attempts to control it.

To his astonishment, Jamie put a gentling hand on Andrew's shoulder as he said to Pharlain, "Ye've admitted that ye were involved with Campbell of Lorne in this business of collecting fees, sir. I'm wondering now what other schemes ye've shared with him, or others. Sithee, we uncovered a plot to undermine the work of this Parliament, which appears to have included this recent business of hitherto powerful chiefs breaking the King's ward. My steward tells me that Lorne has fiercely cursed that plot's failure. D'ye ken aught of such scheming, sirrah?"

"I do not," Pharlain said flatly, but Rob saw Dougal blanch and step back.

"We will look further into that matter anon," Jamie said. "I am surprised, though, to see that this charter ye've presented bears my name. I do not recall signing it, however. In troth, what I see by its date is that I could not have signed it."

"Your honored uncle, the first Duke of Albany, as Governor of the Realm at the time and thus your regent, signed it on your behalf, sir," Dougal said smoothly.

"Since my uncle had much to do with my capture and nowt to do with my release, I do not agree that he had the right to sign my name to any document," James said. "I hereby declare your charter null, sir, and void. Since Andrew Dubh MacFarlan has shown me a royal charter properly signed by my father and has also shown me another signed by my grandfather, and has others, likely signed by their grandfathers before them, I declare Andrew Dubh MacFarlan to be the true Chief of Clan Farlan and entitled therefore to all the lands, estates, and so forth of Arrochar."

"By God, we should have finished you at Perth!" Pharlain exclaimed angrily.

"I thank ye," James said. "I expect I can infer from that outburst that ye were part and party to the assassination attempt in Perth and therefore also to the seizure afterward of the royal castle and burgh of Dumbarton. Will, arrest this man and clap him in irons until I decide if I'll hang him or relieve him of his traitorous head."

Pharlain, stupefied, stared at the King in disbelief.

Looking again for Dougal, Rob saw that he was whiter than ever, but he was still able to think, because he eased silently away amid the remaining onlookers.

Will Fletcher motioned for two men-at-arms, who stepped forward at once and efficiently hustled Pharlain away.

As they did, James handed Andrew's charter to the scribe. "Confirm this in my name as of this date and place," he said. "I'll sign it forthwith." Moments later, James added his signature, dusted it with silver sand, and handed the document to Andrew, saying, "Take this, sir, keep it safe, and look after our people at Arrochar."

Thanking him, Andrew accepted it with his left hand and extended his right. "I would shake your hand, your grace, if I may."

James, grinning now, grasped Andrew's right hand with his and clapped him on the shoulder with his left. "You may, aye, my lord, now and whenever we meet."

"Before we part, sir, I would ask leave to present my good-son, Lord MacAulay," Andrew said. "He has served your grace afore, I think."

"He has, withal," James agreed, turning as Rob stepped forward.

Sensing Muriella behind him, Rob put a hand back as he would to stop Scáthach. Murie did not as much as pause, though, and he could do nowt about it.

Murie stopped when Rob did and stayed behind him. She had seen him flash his palm at her and recognized the signal, but she wanted to keep close enough to see and hear him swear fealty to the King. She was aware that her mother followed her, but she sensed that Lady Aubrey simply felt as she did about staying together.

" 'Tis good to see ye again, my lord," the King said to Rob. "I thank ye for your timely warning, but I was gey sorrowful to learn of your lord father's death."

"I thank your grace. I would swear my fealty and allegiance, if I may."

James nodded and extended his hands when Rob knelt before him.

Resting his palms on the King's, Rob said formally, "I, Robert MacAulay, Lord of Ardincaple, do swear fealty for that barony, which I hold and do claim to hold of your grace, High King of Scots, for myself and my heirs, heritably. Loyally will we serve you and your heirs, God helping, now and forevermore."

"I accept your vow in humble gratitude, my lord," James said. "Now rise and tell me how your lord father died. We will miss him sorely."

"We will, aye," Rob agreed as he stood. "I've no proof, but I suspect Lorne had a hand in it and mayhap Pharlain, too, due to that business of collecting fees. Father strongly opposed the notion. I believe Lorne has killed before, and whilst you may not know it, Pharlain killed Andrew's three small sons when he usurped his chiefdom and Arrochar soon after your grace fell captive to the English."

"If your father did fall to those villains, he can rest in peace, for neither man will kill again, I promise ye," Jamie said grimly. "Ye can see that for yourself if ye choose to be present in our courtyard at midmorning tomorrow."

Hearing Murie's indrawn breath behind him, Rob met Jamie's gaze.

"The lady behind you is your wife, my lord, aye?" James said.

"Aye, sir," Rob said, stepping aside, "and gey forward withal."

His tone was as calm as ever, but easily sensing his uncertain mood, Murie quickly made her curtsy to Jamie, and let Rob draw her up beside him.

"I have met your sisters, my lady," Jamie said with a smile as she placed her hand lightly on Rob's extended forearm. " 'Tis a delight to meet ye, too."

"You are kind, your grace," she said. Then, before she could lose what little courage remained, she added, "May I have leave to ask you a question?"

"Aye, sure."

"When you make our laws the same throughout Scotland, will you keep just the sensible ones or must we still honor even the worst of the ancient Celtic ones?"

The dark royal eyebrows flew upward. "Ye sound as if ye have experience with Celtic law, my lady, or do I misunderstand ye?"

"I know of a daft one, your grace, because I was found guilty at Pharlain's court of abducting his grown son," she said. " 'Twas not Pharlain who declared me guilty, though. That was a Brehon justice. He said that the person riding in front on the horse is, by Celtic law, the abductor—or, in my case, he said, the abductress."

She went on quickly to explain, aware the whole time of Rob simmering beside her, and thus doubly aware of her impudence in taking up the King's time with her personal concern. Recalling only then that the Brehon had condemned her as much for ‘wasting his time and the court's' as for her so-called crime, she barely dared to breathe after watching James's expression change, as she spoke, from polite interest to surprise, frowning displeasure, and then… amusement?

"I see," he said, his dark eyes brimming with laughter. "Forgive me, my lady. I ken fine that your situation must have seemed dire, and my Joanna will scold me for making light of it. But picturing a wee lassock like ye abducting any adult male on his own horse…" He collected himself, adding, "Even so, there cannot be any good reason to keep such a daft law. I promise ye I'll do all in my power to see it and others like it abolished. Meantime, might a royal pardon ease your mind?"

"It would, your grace," Murie said firmly, not daring even a glance at Rob.

"Then so be it; I absolve ye of all guilt in yon abduction and aught relating to it," James said. His expression hardened then. "Is Dougal MacPharlain still here? I'm thinking he should be joining that lot for the hangings and such."

A voice from the back called out, "He's left, your grace. He looked sick."

"As well he should," James said. "See if ye can find him for me."

Rob put his free hand over Murie's on his forearm, gave her hand a squeeze, and began to back away. She could still sense his displeasure with her, although none of it showed in his face. How she wished she could conceal her feelings so!

They had taken but a step or two when Andrew said, "By your grace's leave, we would retire to our chambers now. We must return to Arrochar as soon as we can, for I have much to do to secure my lands and reunite my people. I promise ye, though, they'll be gey willing to support their rightful King."

James gave his assent, wished them a safe journey, and turned away to summon the next man with a charter to present.

"We'll go right upstairs," Andrew said. "I want to tell Sorley we'll be leaving early, unless anyone here wants to watch the hangings."

Murie winced at the thought.

Rob watched Murie as they crossed the chamber with her mother in Andrew's wake. When Murie's brow furrowed, he suspected she was worried that he might be angry with her for speaking as frankly as she had to the King.

She glanced at him then, and although the lines in her forehead smoothed, her expression became speculative. He wondered what she was thinking, and his cock stirred at what he hoped that subject might be. He loved the fact that her beautiful face was so expressive. As that thought occurred to him, he realized that its animation was a large part of her beauty.

Other men, less observant ones, might dismiss her as nobbut a wee dab of a woman, but Rob could as easily imagine her as she would look in years to come when her slender, curvaceous body grew a bit plumper after a child or six, and her flaxen hair grayed or turned white. He realized fondly that he looked forward to witnessing such changes and to growing old with her.

To be sure, she had habits that would sometimes irk him, although she had proven that she could change. Even so, she was accustomed to going her own road, and he was sure she remained determined to become a seanachie. However, he was accustomed to commanding obedience, so if he had to lay down a law or two, she would learn when she had to heed him.

In the end, he decided, although they would sometimes fratch, they would also talk, laugh, and enjoy each other's company, in bed and out. In truth, he was rapidly coming to believe that the best day in his memory was the day she had declared herself his wife.

She twitched his sleeve when a gillie held the door open for them and Lady Aubrey moved ahead to follow Andrew into the great hall. Looking into his wife's somber face, Rob remembered her wincing when Andrew mentioned the hangings.

Drawing her through the doorway and off the dais, he said, "Don't fret, lass. We won't linger here tomorrow."

"I know, but I must talk with you, sir, privately, before we go upstairs."

"Now?"

"Aye, straightway, because we will all go to supper soon, so Tibby will be waiting for me. And I shan't find another… Sithee, I've found out the truth about…" She paused, looking around as if to be sure that no one else could overhear her. Then, speaking so low that he barely heard her, she said, "… about your Elizabeth!"

Grabbing her by a shoulder, he took her out of the hall to a nearby anteroom that he had noticed earlier. Finding with relief that it was empty, he hustled her inside, shut the door, and said harshly, "What the devil did you mean by that? What business is it of yours to be discussing my private business with anyone else?"

"Don't be a noddy, Rob," she said, looking him in the eye. "I've done nowt o' the sort, as you would say. So, if you will just listen…"

Dougal's emotions were in turmoil as he urged his garron to a faster pace. Grief warred with his fury, frustration, and deep sense of loss. The two men riding garrons behind him kept their distance, doubtless wary of his temper.

He had gone from the disaster in the inner chamber straight out to the gate, so he had with him only his weapons and the plaid, tunic, cap, and boots he wore. Not, he reassured himself, that he needed more than that. What he needed was to reach Arrochar as fast as he could and prepare to keep Andrew at bay.

Wasn't it just like his father not to tell him about his damnable charter and to damn him instead for trying everything he could to protect their claim to Arrochar? So smug had Pharlain been, too, and so critical of aught that his long-suffering son did. And where had it got him in the end? Hanged or beheaded, at the King's will.

Grief washed over Dougal at the thought, and he castigated himself for it. What had he expected? What had he wanted? For the man to live forever or only long enough to say, just once, "Ye've done well, lad"?

When he'd found their men and ordered them to depart at once, the captain of Pharlain's tail had refused. "No without the laird's say-so," he said.

When Dougal had favored him with the truth, that Pharlain would be dead before midday on the morrow, the man shook his head, making it clear that he did not believe it. So, Dougal took the two men in their tail who served him alone, and the three of them had set out together. After all, with Jamie so friendly to Andrew Dubh, Dougal knew that his own skin would be at risk if he lingered.

He was not beaten yet, though. They had held Arrochar by right of the sword for many years before Albany had signed the charter that Pharlain had shown to the King.

"And I'll hold it by that same right," he muttered. "If the Fates be willing."

Doubt surged in. The Fates had done nowt to help him so far, but by God, they would change their ways, or he would wreak havoc.