They had moved south through Lothian and the Lammermuirs and into the Merse, by quiet, little-known passes, by Garvald and Spartleton Edge and Cranshaws. At Edrom, Jamie had left them, four hours earlier, and raced ahead with half a dozen of his own moss troopers None knew Berwick and vicinity, nowadays, so well as the Douglas. He had spies and informants scattered all around the area. Jamie would gain the information they required, if anybody could. He had promised to bring tidings to the King, here at Paxton, by an hour before midnight. He was almost an hour late.
Ten thousand men fretted and fidgeted.
Shall I take a troop? To seek him? the Earl of Moray asked, at his uncles elbow.
I know many of the places where he would go. To gain news … I
think Jamie would scarce thank you, Thomas! Bruce answered.
To play nurse. Give him time.
He should have taken more men, Gilbert Hay, at the other side, declared.
He should be less rash. More careful of himself.
Less rash? Gibbie, we are getting old when we talk so! James Douglas remains young at heart.
So did my uncle, the Lord Edward! Moray murmured.
No, Thomas. I said young of heart. Not young of head! Jamies head is not so young. He will not take undue risks. And sound tidings we must have.
You fear the King of England may have learned cunning, with the years? Fraser the Chamberlain asked.
No, Sandy. Edward of Carnarvon will never learn cunning. It is the loyalty, or otherwise, of his lords, that concerns me. Notably one Lancaster That mans behaviour, of royal birth and five Earls in one as he is, could change all at this juncture. I must know his dispositions.
Edward of England, stung by the loss of Berwick, the repeated Scots raids deep into his kingdom, and the Cardinals failed mission, had not proceeded to a peace-treaty, but had raised a new army and marched north to retake Berwickon-Tweed, summoning all his northern vassals to support him there. But his unpopularity was as great as ever, as even in the days of Piers Gaveston -for he had elevated new favourites, the Despensers. The northern lords looked towards Lancaster as their leader. If Lancaster came to join his monarch before Berwick, as commanded, then the Scots host, tough and potent as it was, would look puny.
Lancaster hates King Edward-all men know, Fraser was saying, when the drumming of hooves silenced him. All heads turned in an easterly direction.
It was Douglas and his half-dozen, lathered in horse-spume.
My sorrow that I have kept you waiting, Sire, he exclaimed,
panting.
But the English have got two great rings around the town. Earthworks. A double circumvallum. Thick with men. Winning through these is no light matter. It took time …
Double earthworks? That bespeaks many men.
Many, yes. Too many. Lancaster is come. He has joined the King.
With unnumbered thousands. He came but yesterday.
A curse on it! I had hoped … Bruce frowned.
Did you learn anything of numbers, Jamie?
Not that I could rely on. The King may have brought some 20,000. But Lancaster and the northern lords have many more.
And you say that they have dug these trenches and banks. All round the town?
Save at the harbour, yes. The Kings force did that. He has brought a host of foreigners, Low Country men, versed in siege war. With many great and strange engines and devices, I am told.
He intends to have Berwick again. At all costs. The Steward must be sleeping but poorly!
Perhaps. But I am more concerned for ourselves than for Walter! Our
own attack. These trenches and earthworks may have been dug to
encircle the town. But equally, they will protect the besiegers
against ourselves. To assail the English dug into these, their
spearmen and archers, with our smaller force-and that cavalry-would be folly. That way lies disaster.
So fear I. With Lancasters host on the Sank. To sweep us up, Douglas agreed.
We cannot do this by assault, Sire.
What, then? Hay demanded.
Must we sit and besiege the besiegers? Call for more men?
The English could call up more men more readily than could we, Moray pointed out.
There are more of them nearer at hand.
They have brought a fleet of ships, with their siege engines, into the harbour, Douglas went on.
These also are a danger.
I much fear … Moray was saying, when the King cut him short.
Fear nothing, Thomas, he said.
This is not the way. I have not come so far to throw my people into hopeless slaughter. As it would be. No-we adopt the other project. We seek to draw King Edward off, since he is too strongly placed for us to fight. Or you do. For this will take too long for me to be away from Dunfermline.
You and Jamie will take the road south, once more.
To none did Bruce have to explain why he wanted to get back to Dunfermline quickly. The Queen was pregnant again, and nearing her time. The King was on edge, for more reasons than he would admit. This time it might be a son. But Elizabeth was getting past normal childbearing age. And what effect might his sickness have on any issue now…?
Douglas nodded.
Gladly. How far south this time?
York, I think, will serve.
Would not further serve better, Sire? To draw King Edward after us?
Douglas suggested.
The nearer to London we win, the better. The South will lie
unprotected, with his armies here.
Perhaps. But York should suffice, I think. I have word that Edward
Queen, Isabella, is presently there. He left her at York when he
marched north.
Ha! You mean …?
I mean that, unlike the English, I do not usually make war against women. But this lady, taken into your custody for a little-or even the threat thereof-would, I believe, fetch Edward south promptly, and shorten the siege of Berwick more swiftly than any other means.
James Douglas slapped his saddle-bow gleefully. But Moray shook his upright handsome head.
I do not like it, Sire, he said.
Of course you do not like it, Thomas! It conflicts with your honourwell known to us all! But it could, nevertheless, save many lives. Thousands, it may be. Perhaps this city itself.
It was your honour, Sire, that I was considering-not my own, his nephew answered stiffly.
This they would hold to your blame. Not mine. Or the Douglass.
I could thole it! Jamie-I fear this must be your especial task,
then. Unless you also scruple?
It shall be my delight. I have heard that the lady is …
generous!
Aye.
That is why I jalouse that her husband will hasten south when he hears!
But, on your return, remember Lancaster. He may seek to cut you off.
The King paused.
There is another matter that might bear on this. William Lamberton tells me that Archbishop Melton is now holding some great gathering of his priests at York-synod, convocation, chapter, I know not what. Churchmen have much sway with Edward. This may also help to bring him south.
We shall attend on their deliberations, with pleasure! Douglas
nodded, grinning.
How many men do we take? Moray asked, rather emphasising the pronoun.
Take all. I will go with you as far as my lordship of Tynedale.
To Wark Castle. It is important that I treat it as part of my realm of Scotland. Receive fealties and homage, conduct an assize, show my writ to run there, as monarch. Something to bargain with, when I bring Edward to the peace-table. From there, I shall return to Dunfermline. And expect you both to rejoin me within the month.
; So soon, Sire …?
So soon. I want Walter Stewart relieved quickly-since the English have these especial siege-engines. He may not be able to withstand them. So what you do must be done swiftly, or it may be to no profit. It is not a campaign that I send you on, but a single stroke. You are not going south to fight battles, only to draw Edward of Carnarvon away from Berwick. I am weary of bloodshed -even English blood. I want these thousands of stout lads back, my friends. Is that understood?
The great mounted force moved on, quietly, down to the ford of Tweed.
Two weeks and a day later, again at midnight, in the bedroom which had been Queen Margarets above the plunging ravine of Pittendreich, where her four fine sons had been born, all to be Kings of Scots, her descendant watched his wife in labour, and suffered each pang with her. He would not leave the chamber though she urged him to, and cursed the physicians and midwives as bungling incompetents. Emotionally wrought up, he equally cursed his own uselessness-and possibly, by his sheer helpless invalidity may have somewhat aided Elizabeth by distracting her from her pains.
When, after a moderately short labour, the child was born, a boy, and dead, Bruce was a stricken man. He left the bedchamber at last, set-faced, and went to lock himself into his own room.
Something had told him that this would be the son on which he had set
his heart. Head in hands now, he crouched at the window, staring out
into the blue night. Accursed, excommunicate, rejected of God, the
refrain beat in his brain. And behind it all the still more ominous
word, leper, leper… It was that word which presently sent him
hurrying back to his wifes chamber. It was not to Elizabeths side that he went, however, but to the cot where the pathetic bundle lay inert, silent.
Snatching up his son, he tore off the blood-soaked wrappings and carried the tiny, wrinkled, naked body over to a lamp, there to peer and examine.
From the great bed Elizabeth raised her voice, tired, husky.
What… what do you, Robert? I am sorry, sorry, my love. Again I have failed you. But-why torture yourself so?
I look … to see … if the finger of God … is on him also! her
husband grated.
The mark of my sin! To see if … if there is …
Hush Robert! Despite her weakness and the sweat that started from her brow, Elizabeth de Burgh sat up.
Say it not, I charge you! That was as good as a command. She looked
warningly towards the women who still remained in the room. And as he
paid no heed, and went on muttering, she deliberately swept down a goblet of wine which stood untasted on a table beside her bed. It fell with a crash.
That startled him. He transferred his stare to herself. Then curtly he dismissed the women, and laying the child down came to her side.
I am sorry, lass, he said, his voice sane again.
Forgive me.
He took her hand.
Robert-you must watch your words, she chided, sinking back on her pillow.
You might have let out, before all, your fear, your wicked fear! For that strong woman, there was near-hysteria in her voice.
It is not so, I tell you. This has become a madness with you. Let the evil word once fall from your lips, into the ears of others, and hell itself will engulf Scotland. Hell, I tell you!
Hell, perchance, is here already! he answered grimly. Then he shook his head.
But I will not say the word, Elizabeth my heart.
Content you. God forgive me-if He has any forgiveness for such as Robert Bruce-I will act this out, keep silent. And thereby, it may be, further burden my soul. With others smitten, perhaps, from me.
No! No, my dear-it cannot be so. Do not rack yourself so. If you were indeed … unclean, would not I now be so also? I, who share your very bed? Could I have escaped? And are others like to be smitten when I, your wife, am not? I tell you and tell you-your sickness is not what you fear. It is but a scurvy, an affliction of the skin, or some such. It cannot be the evil thing. You have been better these past months. Much better…
The redness is still there. I still sweat…
Yes. But in yourself you are stronger. More as you were. Think you I do not watch you? You cannot deny that you are better.
Could it be so if it was what you dread?
I do not know. I am no physician. But those that I saw in Ireland were just as am I. He looked towards the cot.
And the child was born dead. Flatly, tonelessly, he said it.
And are not other children born dead, Robert, and their sires in good health? Your own sister Mary bore one such. And my brother Richard. Oh, my dear-I am sorry, sorry for this death. Your son. Our son.
After so long. She was panting with exhaustion.
But there was no mark on the child? No flaw? Was there? The women said it.
No, he admitted.
No mark.
You must see that you are wrong, my dear. Our daughters-they are both well. Perfect. Fine children. Yet they both were born since you have had this sickness. I pray you, put it from you. This fear … Her voice tailed off, and her eyes closed, wearily.
He looked down on those heavy-lidded, blue-circled eyes, with sudden great compassion, and kneeled there beside her bed.
Oh, lassie, lassie, he said.
Here I cark and lament-while you suffer.
You are worn, done, my sweet, needing my help, my strength. And I but make moan! Forgive, Elizabeth …
I … I am not done, Robert, she whispered.
Not yet. Her hand came out to touch his hair.
I will give you a son, yet-God willing. A living son. You will
see
James Douglas and Thomas of Moray failed to conform to orders by exactly one week-which was accounted for by the vast amount of booty they brought back with them from Yorkshire, which had delayed them. Apart from that, they could claim that the expedition had been a success, indeed a triumph-even though they had not managed to capture Queen Isabella.
She escaped us by a single day, Douglas told his monarch, who had come out to meet his friends at the foot of the palace hill.
She was warned, and fled to Nottingham from York. He glanced sidelong.
I have not charged my lord Earl with sending the warning -but who knows!
Moray was not much of a smiler, but he at least raised his eyebrows.
My lord of Douglas was inconsolable, he said.
Yet, from all accounts, he should thank me. The lady would have devoured him quite, so tender a morsel!
Despite their differences of character and outlook, these two were good friends, and the most able and effective joint commanders in Christendom.
Yet Berwick was saved? Bruce said, an arm linked with each, as they climbed the hill.
Walter Stewart sent me word, ten days back, that the siege was raised and King Edward gone.
Yes. Perhaps the Chapter was even more effective a draw than his Queen! Douglas suggested.
The Chapter …?
Aye, Sire-we have been keeping strange company since we parted from you. You mind the convocation you told us of? At York? We were constrained to take some part. Douglas chuckled.
We made debate with their spiritual lordships and eminences!
They are naming it, we heard, the Chapter of Myton! A plague on
you, man! the King cried.
Enough of this-or I will have you both clapped in the pit on charge of lise majestie! Out with it? What happened?
Heed him not, Uncle, Moray advised.
As I do not. He has been deranged since his disappointment over the English Queen!
The matter is simple. King Edward having scoured the North of England
for soldiers to take to Berwick, there were none left at York to oppose
u
s. Save churchmen and their soft levies. The Archbishop, at least,
did not flee, with the Queen. He is a man, that-if something of a
fool in the matter of warfare! He raised a motley host of clerks
bishops abbots, monks, priests, acolytes and the like, with their
servants, and sallied out to contest our passage. At a place called Myton-on-Swale, east of Boroughbridge, they sought to give battle.
William of Melton, did that? He chose to fight? Fight the two most redoubtable captains in these islands!
Aye, Sire-he might almost have been a Scots bishop!
Douglas put in.
Only, had he been so, he would have known better how to fight, I swear! His flock were as sheep to the slaughter.
Save us-did you have to do it? Slaughter them? It was at Moray that Bruce looked.
We had little choice. There were great thousands of them-and more dangerous in their flight than in their fight! They streamed across a bridge, to our side of the river-and then quickly decided that they were better back on their own side. Some of our people had set some stacks of hay afire, and the smoke confused them …
You would have thought that priests would have been at home in smoke, incense! the irrepressible Douglas asserted.
Naught would do but that they all should be back across the river. The bridge would not take them-since I held it-so they must needs swim! In future, clerks should learn to swim!
I think you make more of this than you ought, Jamie? the King said.
Is it your conscience troubling you?
Conscience, Sire? Why, we were picking them out on our lance points Never have I seen such urge to the water. Nor such panic. The Gaderene Swine were not to be compared with the priests of York! More drowned than died in fight-but more still died of fright, I do believe! Of stopped clerkly hearts! It was a sight to be seen. Andwe loaded a thousand horses with their spoil. It seems that they thought to fight more with golden crucifixes and croziers than with swords!
The Queen, almost recovered, met them at the palace entrance.
Welcome back, my heroes! she greeted.
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