Bruce remained in his room, perusing his letter. And even when Nigel came running up the narrow turnpike stair to tell him that Comyn waited below, he curtly dismissed him. He would be damned if he would go hastening to meet the fellow.
Lamberton mounted the stairs, after a while. He looked weary, older, but greeted Bruce with a sort of rueful affection. He glanced quickly at the letter in the younger mans hand, but asked no questions. He contented himself, after the normal civilities, with mentioning that there were a great number of papers for the Guardians signature and sealing, and that the Lord of Badenoch was in vehement mood, and spoiling for a gesture against the English, claiming to have 20,000 men under arms and ready for a move.
That brought Bruce back to realities, and he went downstairs with the older man in more sober frame of mind.
The hall at Torwood was no more than a moderately-sized room and was already overcrowded with Comyns entourage.
Bruce would have had them all out, for it seemed to him no way to conduct the business of state before all this crew; but he had had this out with Comyn before, and an unseemly argument it had beenworse probably than putting up with the crowds presence, since this was the way the other wanted it. There were larger measures at issue.
Comyn himself lounged at the table, and did not pause in his eating, although the others all bowed at his co-Guardians entry.
Ha, Earl of Carrick, he cried, from a full mouth, where have you been hiding yourself in this rats hole? I faith, I feared I would have to send for you!
Send, my lord?
To apprise you of my presence. And that I have come a long way. And have no desire to spend the night in this rickle o stanes!
Their host, Sir John le Forester, Hereditary Keeper of the Forest of the Tor Wood, clenched his fists, but kept silence.
No doubt Sir John will be relieved to hear it, Bruce returned shortly.
Since we already must bear grievously on his household.
He will be paid. Comyn shrugged.
I say that it is unsuitable that we should continue to meet in such a place. Like furtive felons. Well enough for Wallace and the like. But not for Comyn.
We represent King John, and should meet in King Johns palace of Stirling.
I cannot believe that it has escaped your lordships notice that Stirling Castle is still in the hands of Englishmen!
Aye. After all these months. And not only Stirling. But Edinburgh.
Both in Scotland south of the Forth. Not to mention Roxburgh.
And your Lochmaben. A poor state of affairs.
Meaning, sir?
Meaning, sir, that you are lord of the South. That these strongholds are all in your territory. And that no attempt has been made, I think, to expel Edwards lackeys from any of them.
Bruce strove to keep his voice steady.
My lord, you know very well that these are four of the greatest fortresses in the land.
In determined hands, all can withstand siege for months, for years if may be. Well provisioned, and with their own deep wells, they are impregnable. Without great siege enginesof which I have none.
Moreover, with a territory in ruins, I have more to do than waste men
in idle siegery. Isolated, these fortresses can do us little harm.
I say there speaks folly. While Edward holds these castles, and denies us the use of our own land, we are still in his occupation.
Not free men. They are a reproach and a scorn. I say we cannot make pretence to lead this Scotland while these remain held against us. Stirling and Edinburgh, in especial.
Then, siryou reduce them I If you can. You have the men assembled, I hear. Your North is not devastated. And you do not have to watch a hundred miles of Border.
Will Bruce have Comyn free his castle of Lochmaben for him!
Reduce Stirling first, and we shall see!
Very well. I shall move against Stirling, forthwith. And when Edward marches, we are the nearer at hand.
Bruce narrowed his eyes, almost spoke, but did not.
My lords, Lamberton said, is it wise to waste your strength on these castles? When King Edward crosses the Border it will be in mighty force. We shall not be battling for castles, but for our very lives. Using the land against him again, tiring him, starving him, wearing him down. I see little virtue in seeking to take these castles, which he may be able to retake in but a few months time.
There speaks a clerk, beat before he so much as draws sword! Comyn scoffed.
You do not talk of war, my lord Bishop, but or brigandage. Think you I have mustered 20,000 men-and will muster moreto skulk and hide, to pick and peck? We shall face Edward like men-but choosing our battlefield, not his. As Wallace did at Falkirk, a mis-fought field if ever there was one. Let Bruce here slink and stab if he will. Comyn will fight to win, not to weary.
Brave words, my lord, Bruce grated.
And where do you think to hold Edward thus? Where do you choose your battlefield?
The other grinned.
Why, at Stirling belike! The best place, is it not? In all the land. Even Wallace could win, there. Aye, I shall hold the English again at Stirling. And meantime take Stirlings castle.
Abandoning all the South to Edward!
Comyn shrugged.
That is your responsibility, is it not? If you would have my counsel, it is that you should retire behind Forth yourself. The Bishop here has admitted you cannot hold Edward in open battle. South of Forth it may be true. Only harass and impede. That is not sufficient. I say give him the south to starve in, then fight at Stirling. Fight to win.
There was a murmur of agreement from his supporters.
No! Only a man lacking heart would say that. The best of Scotland is in the South. The richest, fairest land. The greatest number of the people …
And the Bruce lands!
You would abandon all this to the invader? I say no.
How many men have you assembled? To face Edward?
Bruce cleared his throat.
I do not keep many so assembled.
There is overmuch for men to do in this stricken land. But in a week I can muster 7,000. In two weeks, four times that.
Can? Hope that you can! Will Edward give you two weeks?
I prefer my army as men, not as promises! With my men, then, I shall assail Stirling Castle. With your promises, my lord, do what you will! Comyn rose to his feet, as though he had granted an interview and it was now over.
My Lord Privy Sealwhere are the papers to sign? These plaguey papers…!
Bruce was actually trembling with suppressed rage and the effort to restrain his hot temper, the fists gripping his golden earls sword-belt clenching and unclenching. Lamberton, watching them both closely, intervened.
It is probably well decided, my lords. One policy to support the other. But not only my Lord of Badenoch will be at Stirling.
Holy Church has made shift to muster men from its own lands.
No mighty host, but sufficient to achieve much. A balance, shall we say? Four thousand of them, 1,500 horsed. And Wallace has lent us Scrymgeour, the Standard-Bearer, to lead. With Wallaces own hostnow 15,000, I am toldmy lord of Carricks rear should be secure.
Both lords looked at the Primate quickly, at thatand Comyn went on looking. Neither commented, though a little of the tension eased out of Bruce.
The papers for signature, my lords Guardian, Master William Comyn said, setting down a sheaf of documents before them on the table.
The lead for the sealing is heating below…
Later, with the Northerners gone, Bruce, in his own small chamber again, turned to Lamberton.
It is good to hear of your Church host. A comfort. Bruce took a pace or two about the room.
Wallace …? he said.
You return to St. Andrews, my lord Bi
shop? Just across Tay from
Wallace at Dundee. You will see him? Soon? Good. Then, will you
tell him, from me, secretly, that we need not look for Edwards invasion. Not this spring.
Not…? No invasion …?
No. Not this year, I think. Edward will be otherwise employed.
He weds again.
Dear God! Edward will wed? Soon?
Aye. He goes on a pilgrimage to St. Albans. In preparation.
Weds at Canterbury. This summer. To the Princess Margaret of France.
I fear we risk losing our French allies!
Saints cherish usthis is news indeed! You are sure of it? No idle tale?
I have it… from one I trust. Close to Edwards person.
So! Then … then we have time. We have been given time, precious time. Thank God, I say! The Bishop paused.
But, my lord-you did not tell him. My lord of Badenoch. You said naught of it…!
I said naught, the younger man agreed heavily.
Better that he does not know, I think.
Is that right, my lord? He is your fellow-Guardian.
Right? I do not know if it is right. But I deem it wise. Let Comyn learn it in his own time. Tell Wallace. But others need not know. Yet. I require the time more than does Comyn.
When Lamberton left him, Bruce asked him to have sent up to him paper, a quill and ink. Also a lamp, for the window was small and the light beginning to fade.
It was dark long before the young man finished. Letter-writing did not come easily to him, and in his vehemence he had to send for three more quills before he was finished. He wrote:
My lady, I do greatly thank you. Your letter came to me this tenth day of April, at the Torwood of Stirling, and I received it with much favour. Your God-speed and goodwill I do treasure. And, I think, do much require. For I am in sorry state here. But the better for your heed for me.
I counsel you to beware of Guy de Beauchamp. He is a man of ill living. Do not consider him. Beware, I say, of any whom Edward would have you to wed. He would but use you, as he uses all, for his own purposes.
The word of his marriage is of great moment and does much aid to my minds ease. For this I do thank you. Even Edward is scarce like to come warring to Scotland quickly after his wedding.
The more surely in that his wife will be sister to King Philip, with whom we are in treaty of mutual aid. I have no doubt that treaty will be brought to nothing hereafter. But meantime it stands.
This gives us time, in Scotland. But God knows, not I, whether I can achieve what is required, in time.
You say well when you conceive that my present state will not bring me joy-Being Joint Guardian of Scotland with this man John Comyn is so ill a fate as to drive me all but from my wits. I think that you know of him, a masterful man of ill tongue, respecting none. But strong, in his own parts, as well as heading the power fullest house in this realm. We have never agreed, nor ever shall. To act with him in amity is not possible. To bear with him is beyond all supporting. Yet I needs must, on the face of it, if the kingdom is not to fall apart before Edward. Only Comyn and Bruce, it seems to be, can so unite the lords and barons of the land into one, and so oppose England. But the good God alone knows if it is possible, for I do not.
Comyn will be king, if he may. Nothing is more sure. That would be an ill day for Scotland, and I would die first. For it would be the end of Bruce, I think. Anything better than that.
I do not believe that you are a shrew, my lady. Haughty it may be.
I would have news of my father. We are not close, but I am sufficient his son to wish to know how he fares. And he is true heir to Scotland. I fear that Edward may wreak wrath on him because of me. Where he is I do not know. He spoke of proceeding to Norway, to my sister, but I do not think it. He is like to be living on one of his English manors, which you know of, if Edward has not warded him. If you can learn aught and will write it to me, I shall be the more indebted. I think much of you, Lady Elizabeth. I do not believe that we are better thus far parted. I believe I am less stubborn than I was.
The salutations and esteem of Robert Bruce of Carrick, Guardian of Scotland.
Those last three words he scored out, and wrote beneath;
Here is folly, for I am guardian of nothing, scarce even of my own pride and honour. I pray God that He keep you. Also that He holds off Edward until our sown corn may be grown, and reaped, so that we may fight him at least with full bellies.
Chapter Twelve
The land was fair again, greenbetter even, turning golden under the August sun, the rigs of corn already yellowing on every valley side beasts looking sleek and fat again on the braes. It was a wonder, a transformation, and men rejoiced with an elementary rejoicing at the recurrent bounty of the seasons, a thing which they had not had occasion to consider, in Southern Scotland, for long. Another month. Give them another month, and honest weather, and the harvest would be in. One more month.
But there were ominous signs if not in the landscape. The English, who had withheld all these spring and summer months, were becoming active again. They had reinforced Edinburgh, Dunbar and Roxburgh Castles, and were sending out probing sallies from the latter and Berwick into the East March of the Borderland, even into Ettrick Forest. Why? They would not restart this without orders. King Edward was gone south to his wedding, yesbut he had issued commands for public prayers to be made in all parts of his kingdom for the success or his arms against the rebellious Scots. He had not forgotten, in his newfound felicityand as a bridegroom of exactly sixty summers, he might well be content with only brief honeymooning. But they would have another month, surely… Even Robert Bruce, who these days had developed something of a hunch to his wide shoulders, and a sombre, brooding aspect to his expressionful rugged features, felt the lift and release of it all, of what he saw. The land was no longer black. He had prayed for this, these months, and had been granted them. Nigel sang cheerfully at his side, as they rode, and he almost joined in more than onceunsuitable as this might be for Scotlands Guardian.
Eastwards from Lanark, where Bruce had been conducting an assize of justice, they climbed into the hills out of Clydesdale, by Biggar and Broughton, moving into the unburned land of Ettrick Forest.
This time, Bruce rode at the head of a great company of lords, knights and men-at-arms. He had learned this lesson, at least; that dealing with his fellow-Guardian called for display as well as patience. Moreover, this was not just to be another meeting or council, but with action contemplated. So he had, riding behind him and his brothers, as well as James the Steward and his son Walter; Gartnait, Earl of Mar;
John de Strathbogie, Earl of Atholl; Lindsay, Lord of Crawford; old Robert Wishart, Bishop of Glasgow, out of English hands again; Sir John de Soulis of Liddesdale; and Sir Ingram de Umfraville, brother to the Earl of Angus. As well as many other notables. A thousand and more horsed and armed retainers jingled behind, on long column of march, through the winding valleys.
They made not for Selkirk this time, but for Bishop Lambertons rich manor of Stobo, on the upper Tweed west of Peebles.
This was because of the English raids from Roxburgh, one of which had recently penetrated sufficiently deep into the Forest to burn Selkirk and part of the lower Ettrick and Yarrow valleys, as warning and foretaste. It was as reprisal for this, and in answer to Comyns taunts regarding military inactivity, that Bruce now rode eastwards.
They came to the wide haugh of Tweed, at Stobo, in the late afternoon, to find its meadows and pastures a great armed camp, out of which the church on its knowe, the Bishops manor-house and the Deans little tower, rose like islands. Comyn had arrived first, from his prolonged siege of Stirling Castle, and clearly he had come well supported, as the colourful host of banners flying down there indicated.
It turned out, ominously, that the other Guardian had brought, as well as Buchan, Alexander, Earl of Menteith; William, Earl of Sutherland;
Malise, Earl of Strathearn, Alexander MacDougall, Lord of Lorn, his brother-in-law; Sir Robert Keith, the Marischal;
Sir David Graham, Lord of Dundaff; and others of similar prominence.
It looked as though this was to be a trial of strength with more than the English.
Lamberton, more than aware of all the stresses and strains, was taking his own precautions. Churchmen were everywhere, with all the trappings of religion, relics and the like. Also heralds, with the King of Arms busy with formal pomp and circumstance.
Massed trumpets signalised the appearance of Bruces contingent, and
re-echoed from all the round green hills. The Primate was seeking to
smother animosities in formality.
The two sides mingled in the wide haugh land with a sort of grim wariness, watched over and fussed around by the droves of clerics.
There was no dear cut distinction between North and South, for there
were Comyn supporters in the South and Bruce supporters in the North;
but by and large the division was fairly clear, and none the less because external danger threatened.
John Comyn himself did not come to greet the newcomers, and there was no association until the leaders forgathered in the Bishops dining-chamber for the evening meal; no real association even then, for Lamberton placed one Guardian at each end of the long table with himself in the middle. The hospitality was lavish, and music, minstrelsy and entertainment went on throughout and continuously, so that there was little opportunity for either cooperation or clash. Wine flowed freely, and it was clear that there would be no serious talking that night with all tired after long riding. A great council was arranged for the following forenoon.
It could not be called a parliament, for such required a summons of forty days; but with most of the Privy Council present, it would carry sufficient authority for practical purposes.
The Guardians had not exchanged a single word, directly, by the time that the company broke up to retire to bed, Comyn in the Deans tower, Bruce in the manor-house itself. The latter and Lamberton, however, talked late into the night.
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