None received encouragement to linger.
Three months had done much for Marjory Bruce, physically.
She has filled out not a little, the hollow cheeks and bent shoulders were largely gone. Indeed she was by no means unattractive.
But the great eyes were still anxious, wary, her whole attitude tense, reserved. Men she obviously distrusted; women she kept at a distance. And she still had grievous coughing bouts.
Walter is attentive, the Queen said, following the direction of her husbands gaze.
Of them all, he is the most… determined, And gaining little
advantage, I fear!
Fear? Would you wish Walter success, then?
Why not? He is young. Honest. And looks well enough. I think he would be kind. And he is already kin. To you, at least. Walter Stewart was indeed Elizabeths cousin, his father, James, the previous High Steward, having had to wife the Lady Eglidia de Burgh, the Earl of Ulsters sister.
She shows no fondness for him.
She shows no fondness for any! Is he ambitious, do you think?
To be more than Steward? Who knows. At least he is loyal, and always has been. And of as good blood as any in Scotland. She paused.
Keith, there. The Marischal. What of him? He also dances
attendance.
A sound man, Bruce acknowledged.
Sober. But older. And less illustrious of lineage. And was not
always my friend. I would prefer young Walter.
And Marjory? Which would she prefer?
Neither, it seems. None, indeed. I fear that if she is to marry, we will have to choose her husband for her. It is strange-the Bruces were ever a lusty race. The Mar blood it must be.
Or the life she has had to lead. You must bear with her, Robert.
Aye-but something must be contrived. I had hoped this adventure would have brought her out.
A shout of acclaim indicated that once again Sir Neil Campbell had won the archery by a clear lead; and none was louder in praise than the Lady Mary Bruce-nor more demonstrative in her wholehearted kiss of approval. Her brother grinned.
There is how Bruce women are apt to behave! Mary, God be thanked, has
made a good recovery. It was certainly scarcely believable that the
haggard, gaunt wreck of a woman of three months before could have been restored to this laughing, lively creature. Thin she still was, and was likely to remain; but vigour and the joy of life had returned.
Mary would compound these last years, I think, Elizabeth said.
Will you let her wed Sir Neil, Robert?
To be sure. He is my very good friend. I have given him all Argyll, on the forfeiture of Lame John MacDougall of Lorn.
Which makes him a very great lord. And a sound support of the crown in the Highland West Such match pleases me well.
I am glad. For they like each other assuredly, and will make a good couple. As, I hope, will Matilda and Sir Hugh. When he is at home!
The King smiled a little.
Aye-Matilda is a born flirt. Young Hugh will have his hands full with that one. But she is not truly wanton, I think. At the test, she will be true.
To be sure. And meanwhile, young Menteith makes haste to test! Hugh Ross was still away with his father and the Lord of the Isles, raiding in their galley fleets the English southern coasts. The Earl of Menteith, not yet of age but the more eager to play the man, was not letting the grass grow.
No harm in that. My sisters can well look after themselves, the saints be praised! And he jerked his head towards where Christian, Lady Seton, erstwhile Countess of Mar, held her own court of slightly older men. Christian had always been a woman who needed men about her, and her years of confinement in the nunnery must have taxed her hard. Now she was making up for lost time.
The Queen smiled.
I think, perhaps, it is some of your young men who need the taking care of! Sir Andrew Moray of Bothwell, for instance. How old would you say he was?
Mmm. His father, my friend, was slain at Stirling Bridge. That was in 1297seventeen years ago. That one was a boy of eight, the Court of Norway by the ears! He sighed. I wish that Isabel Mac Duff could so find an interest in men. To take her mind off her hurt. She used to be spirited enough.
Your Christina MacRuarie seems to have taken her under her raven wing!
I wonder why?
The Countess of Buchan, sour-looking, stern, did not so much avoid men
as repel them. She had insisted on coming on this expedition, in her
search for vengeance, that was all; Bruce would have left her behind,
if he decently could, sympathetic as he was towards all that she had
suffered in his cause. She was now sitting a little way apart,
set-faced, eyes part-hooded, while Christina of Garmoran chatted to
Christina is kind in more ways than one! I thought that you would have learned that, my dear. Clearly she feels for Isabel.
Do not we all. But she will not be comforted …
Shouts interrupted her, and turned all heads southwards. From the direction of Otterburn, banners, many banners, were showing above a low grassy ridge. More than rivers were joining in Redesdale that day.
As the heads of men and horses appeared, nodding plumes, gleaming lance-points and tossing manes, it could be seen that three great banners dominated all-those of Bruce, Douglas and Moray. The impression was of a triumphant host.
The King, with Lennox and Hay and a few other lords, strode out a little way to meet the newcomers. Cheering arose from both hosts.
James Douglas flung himself down from his horse, armour notwithstanding, and ran to fall on his knees before the monarch.
Sire, he cried, Greetings! I rejoice to see you. Well met. Your message reached us at Simonburhn. Last night. To our great good cheer.
Aye, Jamie-it is good to have you back. And you, Thomas.
His nephew, Moray, was not far behind Douglas. Edward Bruce remained in his saddle, grinning his mocking smile.
What is this? Another tourney? he exclaimed.
Have you brought all Scotland to meet us, Robert? Call it a
progress, brother. With a purpose. Has all gone well?
Edward shrugged.
Well enough. It would have gone better had our nephew here not interfered.
That is scarce fair, my lord! Douglas protested.
The decision had to be Morays.
He was welcome to decide for his own force. Not mine.
My decision could not but effect both forces, my lord, Moray
conceded.
Yet it fell to me to make it. Mine was the responsibility.
The command was mine…
My friends-I asked if all had gone well, the King cut in, only a
little sharply.
I expected an answer not a dogfight!
Your Graces pardon, Douglas hastened to apologise.
It is a foolish bicker, no more. We won as far south as the Humber. Beverley and Holdemess, on the east. Richmond on the west. Then my lord of Moray, keeping our rear, sent word that the Yorkshire lords were gathering men in great numbers, that he could not much longer promise to hold. our rear secure. He said we must retire.
Fleeing from shadows! Edward scoffed.
I would have driven on. Chit my own way back and through, when I was ready. If Moray was so fearful, and must retire. But Douglas, on the east, played his game and turned back. I could not go on …
And by the Rude-why should you, man? At Beverley you were near 200 miles deep into England. More than halfway to London! Eighty miles further than ever before. That is magnificent, I say. Not a cause for quarrel! That you got so far was a wonder. And I thank you all.
I would have reached the other Richmond. On the Thames!
Edw
ard declared.
Even without this fine nephew of ours! Scared the Plantagenet out of his catamites bed! But when Douglas deserted me…
My lord-you will take that word back! Sir James cried.
On my oath, you will! I desert none. His Grace told me, before we started-told you that we were to be guided by Randolph, in our rear.
I was given the authority in this … Moray asserted.
Not over me, Carrick, by God! You were not…
Silence! the King cried, suddenly furious.
All of you. Not another word of this. It is unseemly. In my royal presence, and before all these. My lord Constable. And Sir Robert the Marischal.
See that all are marshalled. Ready to move. The two hosts as one.
Sir Neil Campbell to command the rearward. See you to it.
Where go we now, Sire? Edward demanded, unabashed, Down Redesdale to the North Tyne. And we burn Redesdale as we going the hope that we need not burn Tynedale.
You make for Tynedale? With all this company? And intend to spare it? We spared nothing that we had time to burn!
Perhaps. But Tynedale is an ancient fief of the Scots crown. I go to resume suzerainty over it. He shrugged.
You were not pursued?
No? Then, since you are good at burning, brother, will you aid with this business? Redesdale to be a bale fire to warn Northumbria that the King of Scots approaches!
As you will…
So, as the royal cavalcade slowly made its colourful way southwards towards the great valley of the North Tyne, it did so down a corridor of fire and billowing smoke, a new and unwelcome experience for the ladies present-save perhaps for the Countess of Buchan who would fain have used a torch herself-however used to it were most of the men. In a belt some two miles wide, every manor and farm, every cot-house and barn and mill, went up in flames; all stacked grain and hay likewise, all cattle, horses and sheep driven off and sent herded back on the road to Scotland, with such booty as was readily transportable. All less mobile stock pigs, poultry and the like, was slaughtered and added to the flames.
The unfortunate inhabitants themselves were not physically maltreated, unless they made actual resistancewhich few indeed were unwise enough to attempt. Pathetic parties, groups of families, either fled apace into the hills, left and right, or stood afar off and watched their homes and livelihood devoured. Only churches were spared, and to these many of the refugees flocked, amid lamentations.
The Queen and her ladies had been brought up in a hard school, and did not complain. Indeed, they knew that they would have to put up with this, before they left Stirling. But they did not enjoy it, and were notably silent throughout. Fortunately the wind, from the southwest blew up the valley, largely carrying the smoke away from them.
Unhappy Redesdale, Elizabeth said, that it should lie north of Tynedale, and so be used as warning and example. When any other might have served.
Aye, it is hard. But there is more than that to it, her husband told her.
Redesdale was paying its tribute. These last two years.
To be spared our raiding. Like so many others. But at this last
collection, they refused to pay. They fall to be taught another
lesson.
No doubt. But still, I say, poor Redesdale She glanced over her
shoulder.
Robert-have pity on James Douglas, she urged, low-voiced.
He rides behind, there, a picture of woe, Edward, even Thomas Randolph, can take your strictures and be none the worse. But Sir James is otherwise. And surely he deserves well of you?
To be sure. But Jamie ought to know me better. We have been close for ten testing years. I could not berate my brother alone, before all. So I needs must seem to blame Douglas and Moray equally with him. They know that But likewise, Jamie should have known not to persist with that bicker, as he did.
He was so anxious to tell you all. How well they had done, how far they had won. And then, this!
Aye, Well … Bruce half-turned in his saddle.
My Lord of Douglas to ride with the Queen and myself, he called clearly.
Eagerly the younger man spurred up.
I am sorry, Sire, he burst out.
It was ill done. I forgot myself. Your pardon, of a mercy! I
shamefully forgot myself.
The fault was scarcely yours, Jamie. But you know, better than most, that I cannot too openly chastise the second man in the kingdom, seem to take sides against my own brother. Even when it is clear that he is in the wrong. As here. Think no more of it. My sorrow that I had to speak as I did. When I so greatly esteem what you all achieved. You did very well. Better than I could have hoped. At what cost? In men, Jamie?
Very little, praise be. Scarce any, indeed. We fought no single battle, nor even a major skirmish. The English seem to have lost all spirit, since Bannockburn. A hundred will flee from two or three Scots. The terror of us went before us, melting the sinews of men.
We burned so many towns that we lost all count. Their castles we could not spare time to assail; but manors we laid waste by the hundred. Most left abandoned before us. Surely we taught the English a sufficient lesson.
Let us hope so. If it will but persuade King Edward to sign a peace treaty. Somehow he must be forced to it, if we are ever to build the Scotland we should have, the Scotland we have bought so dearly. The King shook his head.
That is why I make this progress to the Tyne. Something more that Edward Plantagenet cannot ignore. I go to assert my ancient over lordship over Tynedale.
No King of England could accept that, I think, and still face his
people: Either he must fight on again, or come to terms.
And he is in no state to resume the war. Not for some time. Bruce paused.
These Yorkshire lords that Moray feared? How great a force did they assemble? And do they follow on, northwards?
They mustered a great host, yes. Many thousands. But of no great quality, and lacking in spirit. They did not attack us, either before or after we turned back-although our scouts told us that we passed within a few miles of their camp. They followed on after, but at a careful distance. How far, we could not tell, for our rearward lost touch with them. They are no danger, Sire-that I am certain.
Good. I would prefer no battle with the ladies present…
Lower Redesdale converged on the wider vale of the North Tyne near Bellingham, some ten miles down. Here, that evening, opposite the hamlet of Redesmouth, the Scots halted for the night, leaving a wide trail of complete devastation behind them. But no burning and ravage went on into Tynedale. Instead, many splendidly attired heralds and couriers, well escorted, were sent out, east and west, to make summons and proclamations.
The tented camp Bruce set up was deliberately magnificent, rivalling the tourney-ground cantonments of Stirling, with multihued pavilions, silken awnings, heraldic banners, and colours everywhere. In contrast to the grim business of burning and spoliation, a picnic and holiday atmosphere now prevailed, with feasting, music, even dancing on the greensward. Nevertheless pickets maintained a sharp watch around a wide perimeter-to the occasional discomfiture of sundry highly-placed love-makers and philanderers.
The King was in no hurry to move off, next day, to give his herald sand the stern warning of burned Redesdale -time to make their maximum and widespread impact. It was noon before they started, and now a large company of mounted musicians led the way, dispensing sweet melodies. High officers of state, bishops and senior clergy, even three of the newly-arrived foreign ambassadors, from France, Norway and Hainault, came next, before the royal party, all clad in their most brilliant.
The solid ranks of armour and men-at-arms kept well to the rear. The sun failed to shine, unfortunately, but at least it did not rain.
Five leisurely miles brought them to Wark, now only a village but formerly a place of some
size and importance, chief messuage place and administrative centre of one once-mighty Lordship and Honour of Tynedale. Here Bruce left most of the baggage and a substantial number of men, to erect a more permanent camp in the level and readily defendable haugh between the Wark and Dean Burns and the River North Tyne. Here they would return.
Another seven miles or so, by Chipchase, Simonburn, Hums haugh and
Chollerford, brought them to Hexham, at the junction of the North and
South Tyne. They met with no opposition-and if their reception by the country-folk was scarcely rapturous, at least some people did peer from windows and doorways and pend mouths. Tynedale waited, tense, watchful but it did wait.
At the famous and ancient ecclesiastical town of Hexham-on Tyne, dominated by its great Priory, larger than many a proud abbey, it was Robert Bruces turn to wait, outside the massive walls, while the Prior was summoned with the keys. It was not much more than a year since Bruce had last been here, and in a different mood, and Master Robert de Whelpington came in fear and trembling. But he was greeted genially.
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