Hear mehear me, my friends. He has rid us of the English, I said. Ayeonce! But they will be back. Nothing on Gods earth is more sure! They will be back. And so he must needs do it again. I know Edward. Aye, some blame me, they say, that I know him over well! But this I say, that when Edward himself comes chapping at our door again, then we shall need a united realm to withstand him. And more than that, a leader whom all the people will obey and follow. Therefore, I say, William Wallace it must be. None other …
He was interrupted.
And I say this is folly! It was Sir John Comyn, the Red, himself.
Here is confusion. It is a Guardian of the realm we seek to appointnot the commander of a host.
Wallace has shown that he can do battle, yes. But he is no man for the council-table, no meet representative …
His words were drowned in outcry and protest, angry this time, with an ominous underlying growl. Fists were shaken, even swords were drawn and waved. Everywhere the nobles looked apprehensively around them, at the gesticulating crowds.
The Steward was trying to speak, but Bruce prevailed. He had young and excellent lungs, and no impediments to speech.
There are sufficient and more for the council-table! he declared.
Many to advise Wallace. All too many I But the Guardian must carry the people, not just the Council. If Scotland is to withstand Edward of England in his might and wrath. Here is the heart of it. Only the nation in arms will save us, then. And only one man, I declare, can raise this nation in arms, lacking its King…
When the noise again slackened, it was not the Lord of Badenoch but another Comyn, who took up the issue, Master William the churchman.
What my lord of Carrick says is not in dispute, he claimed, with the careful moderation and reasoned appeal of the practised orator.
None question William Wallaces notable deeds, or his ability to rouse the people. That he must do. But more than this is required of the Guardian. There are decisions of state and policy to make. He must unite more than the common folkhe must unite the lords of this realm. Will Wallace do that? You say, my lord, that he must withstand King Edward. But he must speak with him also, treat, negotiate. Will the proud Plantagenet speak with such as William Wallace .. ?
I say that he will. Edward is proud, yes. But he is a man of deeds, not of words. Because Wallace is of the same kidney, he will respect him where he would not you, sir. Or myself, indeed.
Think you he cares for any Scots lord? But the man who defeated Surrey in proper battle is altogether different.
The Comyns were not quieted yet.
I know Edward alsoto my cost! That was Buchan, the Constable.
He docs not eat his words. He has named Wallace outlaw, cut-throat, promised to hang him. Think you he will swallow that, and deal with him?
Never I Moreover, the Guardian of Scotland speaks in the name of the absent King of Scots. How can this man do ? He is not even a knight! You, my lord, of all men, should know better.
The Kingdom cannot be represented by one who is not of the noblesse, the men of honour. How shall knights and lords follow and yield their voices to one who is not even of their order …?
By the Rudeis that what concerns you, my lord? Bruce cried.
Then we shall see to it! He swung on his heel, and strode across the moss-grown flagstones, spurs clanking, to where Wallace had stood quietly amongst his own group throughout, a grimly silent spectator of the scene. In front of the giant he halted, and with a screech of steel drew his sword, the short travelling sword that hung from his golden earls belt.
William Wallace, he declared, voice ringing, I, Robert Bruce, knight, earl of this realm, do hereby dub you knight. In the name of God and St. Andrew. He brought down the flat of his blade on one great shoulder, then on the otherwhere it clashed against the long up thrusting handle of the others own famous and enormous two-handed brand that was said even to sleep with the man.
Earned on the field of battle, if ever knighthood was. Be you faithful, fortunate and bold I Stand, Sir William Wallace!
There were moments of utter silence, surprise, elation, even consternation. Then, in that green ruin-strewn hollow of the hills, pandemonium broke out, to make feeble and pedestrian even the tumult that had succeeded Bruces previous proposal of Guardian. In wild emotion, men went all but crazy with jubilation, approbation and a sort of unholy glee. The thing was done, suddenly, dramatically, totally unexpectedly, there before them alland could nowise be undone. Sir William Wallace!
While undoubtedly there were not a few present who questioned the wisdom, the propriety, even the taste of what Bruce had done, none could doubt his right so to do. In theory, any duly dubbed knight could himself dub another, provided that he had proved his prowess on the field of battle or in single combat, and was accepted as a man of renown; but in practice, only kings, princes, commanders of armies, and very great nobles ever did so, the last but seldom and in special circumstances. Nevertheless, as the holder of one of the ancient Celtic earldoms of Scotland-and knighted most royally by no less than King Edward himselfnone could contest the validity of Bruces action, even without his claim to being second heir to the throne.
Even the Comyns, therefore, stood dumbfounded, impotent, silenced by their own cherished code. Everywhere the nobility and chivalry of Scotland were in like case.
The Earl of Mar was the first to move. As the din continued, he walked over to Wallace and clapped him on the shoulder, wordless. Words could not have been heard, anyway. The Earl of Lennox came to do the same. These were the only earls present, apart from Carrick, Strathearn and Buchan. Then the Steward stood, and came from his seat to congratulate the new knight.
Crawford followed suit, and others, some others, likewise.
As for Wallace himself, for once he seemed quite overcome by events. He stood there, his open features working, his great hands gripped together in front of him-, knuckles showing white. He did not speak, had not spoken throughout, appeared all but dazed by his abrupt transition. The last man to be called a respecter of persons, or impressed by mere forms and ceremonies and titles, he was nevertheless very much a man of his age, and only too well aware of what this unlooked-for metamorphosis could do for him.
By one brief and simple rite, in that chivalric age, he had been made respectable, transferred to the ranks of the men of honour, given a status that none could take away from him. Knighthood, in 1298, was no empty honour. Much that had been almost inconceivable only a few moments before was now possible. William Wallace was no fool, and however reluctant to be beholden to young Bruce, or any other lord, he would not have rejected this accolade, even if he could.
Bruce was not finished yet. Into the gradually ensuing hush, he spoke.
As Earl of Carrick, and therefore member or the high council of this kingdom, I do now request of that council to declare and appoint Sir William Wallace of Elderslie, Knight, to be Guardian of Scotland, as from this present. He looked first at the Steward, and then nodded to his brother-in-law, Mar.
It was a shrewd thrust, addressing his nomination to the high or privy council. Such body undoubtedly existed, but it had not met formally for long. More important, for his present requirements, it had had no new members appointed to it for years.
Therefore, save for one or two elderly men, only those who
automatically belonged to it by virtue of their high office or
position, could at the moment claim to be members. These were the
great officers of state, the senior bishops, and the earls. At one
blow, Bruce had silenced much of the opposition. The Red Comyn, for
instance, undoubtedly would have been a privy councillor if that body had been properly appointed; but lacking King or Guardian, no recent additions had been made.
Mar was about to speak, when Lennox forestalled him. As another of the old Celtic nobility, he had no love for the
Normans in general and the Comyns in particular.
I, Malcolm of Lennox, agree, he said.
I say Sir William Wallace for Guardian.
Aye. As do I, Mar added.
No! That was Buchan, gazing round him anxiously. As well he might. Apart from the Earl of Strathearn, and the Steward himself, there was only one other certain privy councillor present, the Bishop of Gallowayand coming from that airt, he was almost bound to be a Bruce supporter. He was.
I also say for Wallace, the Bishop announced briefly.
As do I, Malise of Strathearn nodded.
There was a brief pause, and the Steward, licking his lips, spoke.
Does any other … of the council … say otherwise, my lords?
I protest! Sir John Comyn cried hotly.
At this, of the council. It is a trick, a ruse. Who knows who is of the council? It has not met. These three years and more. Bruce would trick us all. I say all lords and knights may speak. And vote.
There were cries of agreement from not a few, but Bruce shouted through them.
I declare that the voices of individual lords and knights, however puissant, have no authority in this. Only a parliament duly summoned, or else the council, can appoint a Guardian. This assembly cannot be a parliamentsince who had authority to call one? Therefore, the council only may speak for the realm.
And there are councillors enough here.
So … so I hold and sustain, the Steward nodded, though obviously uncomfortably.
Can you deny it, my lord Constable?
Unhappily Buchan eyed his cousin.
In other circumstances he began, and waved a helpless hand.
I call the vote, Lennox said.
Aye. James Stewart acceded. Does any other member of the council speak?
There was none other to speak.
I see no need to vote, then. The issue is clear. Five have spoken for-no, six. One against. If I myself were to vote, nothing would be altered. My lord Constablewill you withdraw your opposition, that all may be more decently done?
Buchan sighed, and nodded, in one.
So be it. I declare Sir William Wallace, Knight, to be Guardian of this Scotland-in the name of the famous prince, the Lord John, by Gods grace King of Scots.
Strangely, there was comparatively little acclaim and demonstration now. Men seemed to be sobered suddenly by what was done, what the implications were, what this dramatic action foreshadowed.
It was as though an irrevocable step had been taken, an assured order all but overturned. All were for the moment abashed. Even Bruce, who should have protested about this being done in the name of Baliol, did not do so.
All looked at Wallace.
That giant appeared to come out of a trance. Almost like a dog shaking itself, he heaved his huge shoulders and raised his auburn head. He gazed round on them all, out of those vivid blue eyes, unspeaking still, a tremendous, vital figure, the very personification of innate strength, vigour and resolve. Then slowly, waving his supporters back, he began to pace forward from his transept.
Not a sound was heard as he stalked up the choir steps and came to stand before the Steward. That man rose, and after a moment, bowed deeply before the other. Then he moved slightly aside, and gestured to Wallace to take the seat he had vacated, the simplest of tokens, but fraught with significance.
Something like a corporate moan rose from the great company.
Wallace inclined his head, and moved into the Stewards place.
But he did not sit. He turned, to face them all, and raised a hand.
My friends, he said, and his deep voice shook with emotion.
I thank you. I thank you, with all my heart. For your trust. I swear before Almighty God that it will not be betrayed.
God and His saints aiding me, I shall not fail you. Much is needed. I shall demand much of you. But, for myself. I shall give all. This I vow-and you are my witnesses.
The murmur that swept the crowd as like the distant surge and draw of the tide on a long strand.
And now, my friends, to work. With a flick of his hand Wallace seemed to thrust all that had transpired behind him.
Emotion, by-play, ceremony, had had their moment. Typical of the man,
all was now decision.
There is much to do, I told you.
Most can and must be done hereafter. But it is right that some shall be done here, before you alland be seen to be done. The council, for one. I know but little of these thingsbut it is clearly in need of renewing, of enlarging, as my lord of Badenoch says.
My first duty, therefore, as Guardian, is to see to this. I now ask Sir John Comyn, Lord of Badenoch, to join it. Also Sir Alexander Lindsay, Lord of Crawford; Sir Alexander Comyn, Lord of Lumphanan;
Sir Alexander de Baliol, Lord of Cavers; Sir William Murray, Lord of Tullibardine; and Master William Comyn, Provost of the Chapel-Royal.
Even Bruce gasped at this swift recital, rapped out like the cracking of a whip. At first, like others, he had thought it unsuitable lacking in fitness, for Wallace to plunge so immediately into the exercise of his new authority. But now he saw, as all men of any understanding must see, how astute a move this was.
Wallace had been appointed in the face of Comyn opposition; and since they were the most powerful family in the land, he would have them as a burden on his back. But, by this sudden move, he had changed the situation dramatically, and put the Comyns, especially Sir John, into a position of acute difficulty. He had singled out three of them for advancement, in this his first official act. The Red Comyn had himself indicated that the council was in need of new blood. Now, to refuse to sit on it, especially in the company present, was almost unthinkable. Yet it meant that the mighty Comyns were thereby accepting favour at Wallaces hands, the very first to do so, demonstrating to all their acknowledgement of his authority. He had them in a cleft stick.
Bruce almost laughed aloud as, after an agonising moment or two, Sir John inclined his arrogant head, unspeaking. The other surprised nominees murmured varied acceptance.
Apparently satisfied, Wallace went on, Two other matters.
This realm had an ancient alliance with France. The French are now attacked by the same foe as are weEdward of England. We must see to it that both realms act in common against him. Make a treaty of aid, one with the other. If Edward, as is said, does return from France to lead attack against us again, then the French should attack England in the south. It is our blows, here in Scotland, and into England, that will have brought him back.
This must be our enduring policy. King John saw this three years ago, but was forced by Edward to denounce his treaty. We must renew it. I say that we should send envoys at once to King Philip, new envoys. It is in my mind to send Master John Morel, Abbot of Tedburgh. And Sir John Wishart of the Carse, brother to the imprisoned Bishop of Glasgow.
Men stared at each other. The proposal was a sound one, and the envoys named no doubt suitable enough. But none could fail to be astonished at this naming of names. That Wallace should already not only have his road mapped out, but have men in his mind to carry out his designs, could only mean that he had been prepared beforehand for some such eventuality. But his knighting and appointment to the Guardianship had been wholly at Bruces sudden instigation. How then … ?
Bruce himself, listening, came to the conclusion that he had underestimated and misjudged his man. He had thought by these actions of his, he had hoisted him into the Guardians seat;
it looked now very much as though Wallace had been prepared to assume it, on his own.
Distinctly chagrined, if not humbled, Bruce listened to a further demonstration of the big mans forethought and sheer ability.
He, the former pud aw and small laird, had the effrontery there and then to create a new Bishop of St. Andrews and Primate of all Scotland-or, at least, to take the essential steps there for He did it, first by addin
g Master William Comyns name as a third envoy to France; then by announcing senior bishop present, Galloway, as Chancellor of the realm, or first minister of state;
and finally proposing one William Lamberton, Wisharts chancellor of Glasgow Cathedral, as Bishop of St. Andrews, in the room of the late Bishop Fraseradding on his necessary visit to Rome to be consecrated, he should also present to the Pope the Scottish realms entire and leal duty to His Holiness and its request that the Holy See declared its disapproval of Edward of Englands invasions and savageries, and threaten him with outlawry from Christendom, anathema and excommunication if he persisted in such wicked warfare.
Quite overwhelmed, the company listened. Never had anyone present heard the like of this, such vehement forcing of the pace, such high-sounding a programme, such confidence of delivery-and all done before a great gathering of the people, not behind the closed doors of the council-chamber.
The Comyns were silenced-for Master William had undoubtedly been hoping
for St. Andrews for himself, as a senior member of the chapter and
brother of the Constable; Galloway Bought off, who might have claimed
the Primacy, Wishart being a captive and Crambeth of Dunkeld overseas;
and all muffled up and confused by this ambitious bringing in of the Pope as possible ally in the struggle.
For what? Amongst Wallaces group of immediate supporters, a tall, strong-faced, keen-eyed churchman stood beside the Benedictine friar, John Blair. By the way the others were looking at him, it was evident that this man must be Master William Lamberton.
A long sword-hilt peeped from beneath this individuals black robe.
Another Benedictine, and a fighting one, apparently.
So Wallace was making a bid to control the Church, as well as the state. One of his own band Primate and Galloway Chancellor.
And Pope Boniface was a Benedictine also, it was said.
There were murmurs, growls, alarmed looks, amongst the nobility and some of the churchmen, but no vocal or affirmed opposition. That this was not the place, nor the time, any man of discernment would understand. This was Wallaces day, and any who openly opposed him would go down.
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