Joanna of Strathearn shook her head, wordless.
Very well. Is there aught else that I should know, woman? No?
Then you have my permission to retire. Go. I shall not thank you for what you have done, I think! Remain meantime in this house.
But-keep out of my sight! Now-I want Walter Stewart…
When the Steward came pounding down the stairs, Bruce was calm, specific, but harsh.
Walter-there is a plot against my life and crown. William de Soulis. At Berwick. I want him. I want him taken, forthwith and brought in custody. For trial. This parliament called for Scone, on the 4th of August. Twelve days hence. I want him there, to stand trial, before all. And not only he. I want David Brechin, John Logic, Walter Barclay, Eustace Maxwell, Patrick Graham, and so many others as are in their fell company. A large party. Therefore you will need many men. Go to Douglas, Warden of the Marches.
At Roxburgh. Berwick is his responsibility, de Soulis governor under him. He will aid you. It is understood?
By the Massa plot! Against Your Grace? I will not believe it, cannot conceive it…
You are not asked to believe it, man! But do as I command.
Forthwith. You have the names? Soulis, Brechin, Logic, Barclay, Maxwell, Graham. And all such others as may be implicated. I want all such before parliament at Scone, twelve days hence. But be discreet about it, Walter. I do not want any to get word that their schemes are known, and escape over the Border into England.
See to it…
And so there was another great assembly in the refectory of another great abbey, in slightly smaller hall if more ancient, Scone of the Moot-hill and the Stone of Destiny, dynastic heart of Scotland, on the 4th of August 1320. Again it was hugely attended, since this parliament was to hear, consider and pronounce upon the holdings and titles of lands in dispute. But before this judging, another was thrust unexpectedly upon the delegates.
Trial before parliament was quite a normal procedure, for treason, where the accused could be assured of a fair hearing and not be at the mercy of the Crown-although sentence on any condemned was usually left to the Crown. The King presided, but he seldom took any active part in the proceedings, content to leave all to his officers. The accused spoke for themselves and could attempt to sway the assembly as best they might.
On this occasion those in charge were distinctly surprised that there was little or no attempt by the prisoners to excuse themselves, or even to seek support and sympathy. All the principals to the plot had been captured and were present, save for one who had been implicated later, and then had been found to be seriously ill at his own house of Methven, not far away-the same Sir Roger Moubray who had betrayed Bruce at the Battle of Methven soon after his coronation. Also the Countess of Stratheam was not present; her attendance would have been off-putting and unsuitable; and fortunately, her evidence was not necessary.
The fact was, William de Soulis had confessed readily enough to the entire indictment. He was ever a fiercely proud man, and found it beneath his dignity, once things had gone unredeemably wrong, to deny, argue or plead. Throughout the hearing at Scone he kept a lordly silence. The others in some measure took their cue from him, as leader-although Sir Gilbert de Malherbe, Lord of Dunipace, always a shifty character, broke down after a bit and disgraced the knightly code, shouting and beseeching wildly, to the distaste and embarrassment of all present, his co-defendants in particular.
David de Brechin, around whom most interest centred, as the Kings nephew and because of the esteem in which he was held for gallantry on Crusade as on games-field and tourney-ground, contended briefly that he had taken no part in the conspiracy;
but admitted that he had known of it and had taken no steps to
controvert it. There was some sympathy for a fine and handsome young man led astray-until it was revealed that he had in fact been in English pay for years, whereupon all turned against him and his fate was sealed. Maxwell, Barclay and Graham all strenuously denied any involvement in the plot. All they admitted was that they were friends of de Soulis, and had been approached, in some fashion, to take part in a protest against the Kings policy on the assize of lands; but none knew of any plan to kill or replace the monarch. De Logic, and a Liddesdale esquire named Richard Broun, who was said to have acted as principal go-between, maintained only a rigid silence.
So, much more quickly than might have been expected, the thing was over. Maxwell, Barclay and Graham were acquitted.
The rest, including the absent Moubray, were found guilty, and worthy of death, the accepted penalty for high treason, and turned over formally to the King, for sentence at his pleasure. Then, relievedly, the parliament moved to the next business.
This was an announcement by the Chancellor of the reported comparatively favourable reaction of the Pope to the Declaration of Arbroath, and the proposed truce with England. Men heard the first with satisfaction, but the second with doubts. Truces were of little interest to the Scots, since they were so regularly and wantonly broken. But the withdrawal of the papal anathema was something different, a major success and an augury for the future.
They passed on to the vexed and prolonged business of land titles and tenures. Many had come prepared to fight the entire policy; but the conspiracy against the King, shaking all, had the effect of deflating the opposition. The difficult and controversial business went through with the minimum of trouble and delay. By such extraneous influence did a major land reform go through.
Later, with time unexpectedly to spare, Bruce called a Privy Council, to aid him decide on the sentences to be imposed. The decision had to be his own, however.
By common consent, all waited for William Lamberton, the senior of the Lords Spiritual, to answer the Kings question first.
He shook his head.
In sorrow I must say it, Sire. But for the weal of the realm, and the
security of our nation, there can be but one due decision. All should
the. Mercy is godly-but for a people embattled, treachery, the
hazarding of all that we have fought for and gained by infinite
bloodshed and pain, is too great a danger for mercy. Here is evil, which must be stamped upon before it poisons the realm.
Most present nodded agreement.
My lord Earl of life?
The thin-faced, uneasy-eyed Duncan Mac Duff premier noble of the land, who had consistently taken the English side in all the troubles, and not even lifted a hand to save his sister when she hung for years in her cage on Berwick Castles walls, shrugged stooping shoulders.
Who am I to disagree? he said.
Men noted that answer.
Does any say otherwise?
Sir Ingram de Umfraville, onetime Guardian of the realm, uncle of the absent Earl of Angus, English by birth and always anti-Bruce and pro-Comyn -but an honest man enough-spoke.
Mercy may be too costly, Sire-but discretion should not be.
Must all these be treated alike? De Soulis should die. De Malherbe and de Logic likewise. And the man Broun. But David de Brechin, your kinsman and my friend-he is in different case. A younger man, and an ornament to your kingdom. Beloved of many, honoured by the Holy See for his crusading zeal. He was in grievous error in not making report of this wicked plot. But he refused to take part in it. He might well, in the end, have used his guilty knowledge to save Your Grace. He is not to be judged as the others. Banish him your realm for a time, Sire. But do not hang him.
I hold with Sir Ingram, Patrick, Earl of Dunbar and March said.
As I do not! Douglas asserted.
He has been receiving English gold. A paid traitor.
It was not for that he was tried, Sir James.
Hang all, and be done, the Lord of the Isles advised briefly.
Bruce turned to his other nephew, Thomas Randolph.
My lord of Moray-your guidance in this? You are of like kinship to me as is Sir David. And you also once
embraced other cause to mine.
This man is your cousin. What say you?
Moray took long seconds to answer. When he looked up his noble features were drawn. He spoke almost in a whisper.
What he did is unforgivable. He contemplated the murder of his liege lord, of his own blood, the man who had forgiven him his error. He it was who, by every law of God and man should have come and made known this wickedness to Your Grace-not that woman in her bitterness. Those nearest the throne bear the greater responsibility to support it. I cannot say other than that my cousin should die.
There was silence for a little.
The King broke it.
Very well, my lords. I thank you for your counsel. But the decision
remains mine. Mine only. If I decide ill, Itake the blame-not you.I speak, must speak-and think-for the realm. Not myself. I have decided. Sir William de Soulis should die. But because he is of the royal descent, one of the few who are, for the realms sake it should not be said that the King took the life of a rival to his throne. Many would so claim. I sentence him therefore to perpetual imprisonment. I can do no other.
In this I do him no kindness. He will not thank me. Nor would any here. Better a quick death than to rot in a cell in Dumbarton Castle. That proud man will suffer the more. This, for the realms sake.
Gravely men nodded. None questioned.
His paramour, the Countess of Stratheam, was content that I should be slain so long as she was to be de Soulis Queen. Only when supplanted did she turn. Not for my sake, or the realms, but to spite her betrayer. It is not suitable to execute a woman. Or to cast her in a cell. She shall be banished, the kingdom. For the rest of her life.
All approved.
De Malherbe, de Logic, and this Richard Broun, have nothing in their favour. They are proven traitors who plotted my death only for gain. De Soulis at least believed he had a right to my throne. These would have plunged Scotland into war, internal war-and English domination thereafter, to be sure-for their own gain. They die. They shall be hanged. As for Roger de Moubray, I will not hang a dying manas they say he is. Let him be.
Again there was no dissentient voice.
Then Bruce leaned forward and spoke differently.
David de Brechin, my sisters son. Here is a stab at the heart! He chose to support Comyn, not me. He refused to attend my coronation. He fought against me at Inverurie. But these could be forgiven. Others did as much, and more. But… he signed your letter at Arbroath, a solemn declaration. While yet he was in receipt of English gold.
Now, within weeks, this! He is the fruit of my mothers tree, a fair and goodly fruit to be seem-but rotten at the core. When I condemn others to the gallows, should I spare him?
There was not a word spoken, although Umfraville nodded head.
I cannot, my lords. I will not. David de Brechin hangs with the others. It is my royal decision. The Kings jaw was set, his lined and craggy face like granite.
Umfraville leapt to his feet.
It is not right! Unfair! he cried.
You must not do it, Sire! Stain your honour so. Will you, the First Knight of Christendom, hang the Flower of Chivalry? And let de Soulis live! Here is shame …!
Shame, yes, Sir Ingram. Shame that the Flower of Chivalry is cankered in the bud! Shame to spare him because he is my own kin.
I esteemed you greater than this. Robert Bruce! I have fought against you, yes. But I ever esteemed you noble. This young man is my friend…
As all know but too well, man! That was Fraser, the Chamberlain, with a coarse laugh.
Umfraville, spare, grey, but flushed, ignored him, and the murmurs of others.
If you do this wicked thing, Sire-I shall leave your kingdom. Leave this Scotland. I have chosen to dwell in for thirty years. Wipe the dust of it from my feet. For ever!
Curiously, compassionately, Bruce eyed the strange man.
That I shall regret, Sir Ingram. You must do what you will. But you have great estates in Northumberland. Go to them. Like your nephew, Angus. None will hinder you. But this alters nothing. Sit, sir-or leave my Council table. My decision stands. The matter is closed.
Now, to this of the proposed truce PART THREE
Chapter Twenty
On a slow rise of ground above the wide, sluggish River Ribble, to the northeast of the town, and so clear of the billowing smoke clouds, Robert Bruce, in mud-spattered, travel-stained armour, sat his horse and watched Preston-in-Amoundemess burn. The sight gave him not even a grim satisfaction; Wallaces burning of the Barns of Ayr, and the times without number when he himself had been forced to set afire his own Scots towns, villages and countryside, to deny their food, shelter and comfort to the invading English, had left him with a revulsion against the sight of blazing towns and fleeing, unhappy citizenry.
Nevertheless, this deed was necessary -or so he assured himselfif Edward of Carnarvon was to be dissuaded from his new invasion of Scotland; just as burned Lancaster behind them had been necessary.
If the King of Scots did not display any satisfaction, most of those around him certainly did. And with some reason. For the burning of Preston and Lancaster was only the culmination of the most brilliant piece of raid-warfare yet to be demonstrated against the stubborn English who would not come to the peace-table.
Never had there been anything like this, even under Douglas at his most inspired, the hardened veterans averred-and led by the King himself, indeed entirely planned by him. This should prove, if anything could, that there was no truth in the rumours of a sore sickness that was said to be eating into the Bruce and debilitating him. If this campaign was the work of a sick and failing man, then pray the gods of war for more of the sort, they said!
The plunder had been phenomenal-this area was rich, and had never before been ravaged, the County Palatine, Fumess, Amoundemess, almost down to the Welsh marches. For all that, they were not weighed down, as so often, and dangerously, with booty; for Angus Ogs galley-fleet had kept them company, offshore, and now lay in the Ribble estuary nearby, laden with treasure, hostages and prisoners for ransom. They had had to fight nothing like a pitched battle throughout-Bruce had seen to that; but such skirmishes as had developed, they had won with ease. This was coolly planned, strategic warfare, with a vengeance, and no mere rough raiding.
Prestons smoke was intended to blow eastwards indeed, right across the Pennines, to York itself, where King Edward was mustering hugely; and to Teesdale, where Douglas and Moray waited, left in dangerous isolation when Thomas, Earl of Lancasters revolt collapsed at Boroughbridge, yet reluctant to retire on Scotland while they might yet menace Edwards flank and hinder his advance.
For the entire strategic and military situation had changed, these past three months of 1322. It had all come about by what might seem utterly irrelevant happenings. King Edwards new favourite, Sir Hugh le Despenser, had finally become so obnoxiously arrogant and greedy that many of the old aristocracy had been driven to take arms against him and his father, led by Thomas, Earl of Lancaster, and the same Humphrey de Bohun, Earl of Pembroke, who had played a less than glorious part at Bannockburn. In this civil warfare, Lancaster, who was of English royal blood and had an eye on his unpopular cousins throne, got in touch with the King of Scots, seeking his support, with promises of peace and friendship when he won the crown. Bruce, who neither admired nor trusted traitors, however much he had been forced to work with them, did not rate Lancasters chances highly; but it suited his tactics meantime to fish in troubled waters, and the moment the Popes two year truce expired, he sent Douglas, Moray and the Steward south, not so much to aid the revolt as to take advantage of King Edwards preoccupation- always with the objective of bringing that obstinate weakling to a peace-treaty at last.
After Hereford had won a victory over the Despensers on the Welsh marches, he marched north to effect a junction with Lancaster, in Yorkshire. Now it was outright rebellion against their King
. Edward mustered a loyalist army at York, and was fortunate indeed in that Sir Andrew Harcla, recently made Earl of Carlisle, decided to switch his allegiance. Harcla was a fine soldier if an unreliable man, and had hitherto worked in cooperation with Lancaster, his patron. In March, he moved south with the levies of Cumberland and Westmorland, caught the rebel army by surprise and in the rear, at Boroughbridge, where they were penned against the River Ure with the Kings forces in front, and defeated them entirely, with great slaughter. Hereford was slain in the battle, and Lancaster captured, with many other lords. For once, thereafter, Edward acted decisively. Lancaster and the others were summarily beheadedLancaster, who had slain Piers Gaveston.
Douglas, Moray and the Steward, operating independently in Cleveland
to the north, with a force of about 4,000 only, found themselves in a potentially dangerous position.
The King of England, for his part, suddenly was in a stronger position than any he had known since Bannockburn, at the head of an enormous and victorious army, with the defeated rebels anxious to flock to his banner and prove their new loyalty, and his main internal opposition discomfited, the Despensers carrying all before them. Out of the blue Edward announced that he would proceed north, to punish the rebellious Scots at last and wipe out the stain of Bannockburn.
In this abruptly transformed and unexpected situation, Bruce flung aside all his preoccupations, and acted with his old dash and verve. He sent couriers to order Douglas and the others to remain as a threat to the English host on the northeast, but to retire discreetly before it; he himself would make shift to pose another threat on the west.
Fortunately Angus Ogs fleet was mobilised, indeed at its old game of
raiding the Antrim coast. Bruce sent urgent pleas to his friend for
help, and offered vastly richer pickings on the North-West coast of
England than anything he could gain in Ireland. Himself, with a
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