Richmond nodded, and the Chancellor read from his paper.
The prisoner Wallace, after being lodged within the house of one William dc Leyre, alderman, in Fenchurch Street, was brought by the mayor, aldermen and magistrates of the said city of London, to trial at Westminster Hall. By order of His Majesty.
Before the Kings Justice, Sir Peter Mallorie. The outlaw Wallace was thereupon impeached as traitor to the Kings royal person and authority, in that he did notoriously and shamefully slay the Kings lieges, burn his abbeys, towns and villages, storm his castles, imprudently call parliaments in that part of the Kings realm called Scotland, and set at naught the royal commands. In especial that he did slay and murder the duly appointed Sheriff of Lanark and many other officers, in particular at the Kings castle of Ayr. After burning many to the death …
That was war, not treason! Bruce protested.
The two realms were in a state of war. How could it be treason?
My lord of Carrickmay I remind you of my presence!
Richmond said sternly.
The prisoner admitted all, the Chancellor read on.
He but made claim that since he had not sworn fealty to the Kings name and person, he was no subject of King Edward, and so his acts were not treasonable. Justice Mallorie made observation that if only those who had sworn the oath of fealty could be guilty of treason, then most of the Kings subjects could turn traitor with impunity …
My lord, Bishop Wishart broke in, frail voice cracking.
Does King Edward distinguish nothing between his English subjects and the Scots?
Nothing, my lord of Glasgow. As you should know right well. Scotland is part of the realm of England, and its people subjects of His Majesty.
So says Edward now. But it was not so when Sir William Wallace so acted, Bruce countered.
He was in lawful arms against invaders.
He was a rebel! de Sandale declared harshly.
As were you all. All rebels. Worthy of death. But His Majesty was merciful.
Too merciful, it seems I He took you back into his peace. But when surrender was made, Wallace refused the Kings peace, Wilfully. With war over, he remained at war. An outlaw. He had rights, therefore. No call on mercy.
No call on mercy! Lamberton repeated heavily.
He was a brave man. If he should have received mercy, he did not plead for itthat I swear!
He received his deserts, my lord Bishop, Master Bevercotes declared primly. He consulted his papers.
Found guilty by the Court, the traitor Wallace was tied, naked and in chains, at the tails of horses, and dragged four miles through the streets of the city, to the much acclamation of the loyal populace. At Smithfield, he was part-hanged in his chains, and cut down while yet alive.
Thereupon he was disembowelled, and his entrails burned before his eyes. The Chancellor moistened his lips, and raised his voice to over speak the snarling growl which was arising round that table.
Thereafter the prisoners head was cut from his body. Then the limbs. The said head was affixed to a pole to be set on London Bridge. And the said limbs thus distributed-the right arm sent to Newcastle-upon-the-Tyne; the left arm to Berwick-upon-the Tweed; the right leg to St. Johns Town of Perth; and the left leg to Aberdeen. By order of the Kings Majesty.
The tension in that draughty hall was tight as a bowstring, as men sat, scarcely breathing. Yet John of Brittany appeared to be completely impervious to it, or unaware of it. He was rustling amongst other papers.
Yes, he said, after an unbearable moment or two.
Thank you, Master Chancellor. That is the matter of Wallace. For your information, my lords. Now we proceed to more urgent business. I think, first, this of the failure of much of the Church in this land to pay its share of the costs of the late war. My lord of St.
Andrews … ?
The crash of Bruces chair falling over backwards as he thrust it from him, rising to his feet, brought Richmond to a sudden stop.
My lord Lieutenant, he said, thick-voiced.
I pray to be excused from further attendance at this Council.
Outraged, the other stared up at him.
My lorddo I hear you aright? Excused … ? Or are you taken sick
… ?
Aye, sick! Well you say it. Sick at the evil that has been done.
I, for one, will have no further part in working with such monstrous rule and governance. You are Edward or Englands Lieutenant and representative. I can no longer act on your Council.
Robert I My lord …! Lambertons warning, beseeching hand came up to grasp Bruces armand was roughly shaken off.
Sirthis is beyond all! Richmond declared.
Have you lost your wits? Sit down, my lord …
No. I leave the loss of wits to you and yours! To your master and
kinsman, in especial I To have turned ravening savage and brute-beast
…!
Silence, sir! De Sandale the Chamberlain was on his feet now, pointing.
To so asperse His Majestys name! And in the presence of His Majestys Lieutenant! How dare you …!
Bruce did not so much as glance at him.
Wallace was a noble man. Not noble as we here are noble, perhapsbut nobler than any here by his deeds! A man all here should have been proud to call friend. And did not, to our shame! In him was the true spirit of this Scotland. And Edward Plantagenet dealt with him as he would not a dog! Furiously he shouted down the protesting English.
Wallace was no traitor. How could he be? To an English king, when he fought only for the Crown of Scotland? Which Crown … which Crown … He faltered, as well he might, even wincing at the vice-like urgency of the Primates grip on his arm.
But he went on, a little differently.
A traitor is traitor only to his country, or his friends, or to those that trust in him. Was Wallace ever traitor to his country? Was Edward ever his friend? Did Edward ever trust him? Some here might, by others, be named traitor. I have been! But not Wallace. And yet, he is treated worse than any murdering scullion!
You have run mad, my lord of Carrick! Richmond said, as Bruce paused for breath.
What you say is stark treason.
Mad? The madness is not mine, but Edwards. Madness indeed.
Do you not see it? The folly of it, as well as the sin? The people of Scotland loved William Wallace. Better than any man who ever lived in this kingdom. As they do not love any here.
Edward, by this evil, will set every heart in Scotland ablaze against him. As all his burnings and slayings and conquests have not done. They are a strong, hard people, as Edward has learned.
This will turn them to steel. Against himself. Against his rule.
The blood shamefully shed at your Smithfield is but the first of a flood, I tell you! It will make ill ruling of this land, my lord of Richmond, that is certain. And II will not aid you to do it. He made a final gesture with his hand.
I have asked your permission to withdraw, my lord. Now I go.
Aye, go! Go, Earl of Carrick. Before I have my officers take you.
As I ought. Throw you into close ward …!
Bruce did not answer, being already on his way to the door, with uncertain officers and clerks hesitating. It was John Comyn who interrupted.
You must needs take Comyn also, then, my friend! he said, rising For once, Robert Bruce has the rights of it! I never conceived this Council of worth. I will no more serve on it, now, than he I, nor mine. He looked down at the Earl of Buchan. The Constable, puffing and grunting, rose to his feet.
Despite Richmonds protests, amidst a great scraping of chairs, the Council broke up in disorder.
Bruce found Comyn at his shoulder, in the passage outside.
I
did not think it was in you to do it! the latter said.
/>
Edward will not like it.
I do not do only what Edward likes.
You do much that Edward likes!
Bruce swung on the man.
You think so? Why then does Edward hate me? Tell me that, Comyn. He hates me almost as much as he hated Wallace. Why, if I do his will?
The other looked at him searchingly.
And you? You hate Edward?
Aye. I hate Edward. And all that he stands for.
Lamberton was there, now.
My lord-less loud! Those words could be a rope round your neck I If another such was needed! I advise that you put distance between yourself and this Stirling.
And as swiftly as you may.
Aye-do that, Bruce. Comyn laughed.
Hide, you! And if your South will not sufficiently hide you from Edward Plantagenet, come North I Come to Badenoch I Can I offer you fairer… ?
But despite all the good advice, Bruce was still in Stirling town that night-and, oddly enough, at Lambertons urging. Indeed the Primate was his sole companion as they hurried through the dark, narrow streets, heads down against the of chill November rain.
Comyn was lodged in the Blackfriars Monastery, where one of his clan was Prior. Lamberton summoned the Prior to his own door, and required a private room and the Lord of Badenoch privily informed.
Comyn came presently. Although not actually the worse for liquor, clearly he had been drinking. He stood with his back to the door of the small sparsely-furnished chamber, eyeing his visitors curiously in the mellow lamplight.
So soon! he commented.
Bruce takes refuge with Comyn.
already? From Edwards wrath!
We have come for a word in your private ear, my lord, the Bishop said.
Believing that you will heed. And come to some agreement with us.
That was not strictly true. Lamberton may have believed it, but Bruce was highly doubtful. He had come only at his friends strong persuasion and almost against his own better judgement.
The Primate had argued that, for the first time, Comyn had that day acted, if not in cooperation with Bruce, at least in parallel.
Had even commended Bruces step before all. Here was opportunity not to be missed, therefore.
Agreement? Comyn repeated.
You grow ambitious, my lords!
Perhaps. For Scotland. It is time, I think, that we grew ambitious for this unhappy realm. All of us. For her freedom. For her very survival.
Scotlands? Or your own? Bruces? Which? The words were a little slurred, but the challenge was swift enough.
The survival of us all. As other than slaves. Wallaces fate may be our last warning. His dying cries our final awakening.
Then, at least, he will not have suffered in vain.
Fine words, Sir Bishop. But what do they mean?
They mean, Comyn, Bruce interposed bluntly, that if Scotland is to be saved, then first and foremost you and I must come to agreement. The realm cannot afford your faction fighting mine.
Either we come to terms, or the Kingdom of Scotland can be forgotten.
Become but a memory. And Wallace has given his life for nothing.
Terms? the other said.
And what are Bruces terms? To Comyn.
Scotland needs a king. Only an acknowledged monarch will now rally her. To take up arms against the conqueror. Ballots arrow is shot. None will fight for him now. Not even you, I think.
He does not desire the crown. I say the crown should be mine.
You say otherwise …
An old story, Bruce. These terms?
One of us must be the King of Scots. Mine is the direct claim Through the old line of our kings. Yours only through the discredited Baliol. But … I offer terms, that this impasse may be resolved. Withdraw your claim and support mine, and I will hand over to you all the Bruce lands in Scotlandsave only some small properties for my brothers. Or … He took a deep breath.
… or hand over to me all the Comyn lands, and I will stand down in your favour as King.
The other stared, moving a step or two forward from the door.
You are in your right mind, man? he demanded.
I am. Bruce jerked his head.
My lord Bishop will confirm what I say.
That I do, Lamberton nodded.
My lord of Carricks offer is a true one. Made on my own advising.
For the sake of the realm.
His the crown and yours the lands. Or yours the crown and his the lands. If the Scots people will accept you as King. Which would you?
But … this is scarce believable! To offer up the Bruce lands.
The greatest in Scotland …!
The other two exchanged quick glances. It was significant that it was the broad acres that Comyn thought of first, rather than the empty crown.
Swiftly the Primate took him up.
Aye, the greatest in Scotland.
A notable offer, such as never has been made before. Especially since your claim to the throne is now weakened. This would make you a greater lord and earl than ever Scotland has known.
And, if my claim is so weak, why make this offer?
Because, weak or no, there can be no true decision as to the kingdom while you hold to it. Without dividing the land. Internal strife. If we are to unite against the English, at last, one of us must stand down. So I offer all that I have to offer. That was Robert Bruce.
It was not often that John Comyn appeared at a loss. In fact never had Bruce seen him irresolute, before this night. He paced the small chamber, biting his lip. He stopped, presently.
If this is a trick…! he said.
No trick, Lamberton assured.
In the name of Saint Andrew of Scotland. I swear it. And will do, before any company you name.
Save that it must be kept secret, Bruce put in.
This, coming to Edwards ears, would be my death-warrant!
Comyn looked at him, long and hard.
Which do you choose, my lord? Bruce challenged him.
It … it would require to be written. And sealed, the other declared.
I would so require.
So would we! Lamberton agreed grimly. He reached inside his damp
travelling-cloak and brought out a leather satchel, from which he took
four folded papers, a pen, a horn of ink, and a block of wax. Also flint and under.
All is in readiness, my lord.
Four indentures. Two promising the throne to my lord of Carrick, and his lands to you; and two the other way. Sign which you will. My lord here will sign its neighbour. And the other two we shall burn. Each will keep a copy. Secretly. Yours is the choice.
For the realms fair sake.
Only Comyns heavy breathing sounded as he took the papers closer to the lamp, reading closely. He took an unconscionable time about it, seeming to weigh each word of all four indentures.
But, at length, he laid them down on the table.
The pen, he said.
Wordless, Lamberton handed over the quill and opened inkhorn.
John Comyn looked up into Bruces eyes for a long moment, then stooped and dashed off his bold signature, quill spluttering.
It was on one of the papers that conceded the crown to Bruce, and the Bruce lands to himself.
His rival emitted a long sigh, and picked up the pen Comyn had thrown down. Without comment he signed the companion document.
I sign as witness to both, Lamberton declared.
Have you your seals to hand, my lords?
And so the thing was done. As the heated wax, with the two seals impressed thereon, cooled, and the last black fragments of burned paper fluttered to the floor, the three men looked at each other.
When do I get your lands? Comyn asked.
On the day I
am crowned King.
Will that day ever dawn?
We must see that it does. Between us.
With the aid of Holy Church, Lamberton added.
Why should you … why should we be able to achieve now what we could not do before?
Because we are fighting, in the main, one man. Edward. And Edward is not the man he was. Edwards sickness could be Scotlands saving.
He recovered well.
Aye. But once the heart gives such warning, no man is ever the same.
The finger of God is on him, Lamberton said.
And we have heard that since he returned to London he has had another slight seizure. A sign to him. And to us. To be ready.
It could be years, even so.
It could be, yes. But at least we can be prepared. To move. Not to await his death. To act when Edward himself cannot lead his hosts northwards. For that day we wait. Bruce spoke urgently.
So secrecy is all-important. You will see it. I charge you, Comyn, tell no man of this nights work. If it got to Edwards ears, all would be lost. My life not worth a snap of the fingers!
And my lord of Badenochs life also, I would point out! the Bishop added, significantly.
Edward would feel little more kindly to the one than the other. Both would be taking from him the Scots crown which he usurps. He picked up the two sealed papers, assured that the wax was firm, and handed each man that with the others signature.
Almost reluctantly now they took the fateful documents, wordless.
Abruptly Comyn turned to open the door, and held it wide for his visitors.
They parted no better friends than heretofore.
Chapter Nineteen
With much trepidation, however much he tried to hide it, Robert Bruce waited amongst the gaily-dressed and glittering throng, his wife at his side. He had been against bringing her, first to England at all, and then to this Palace of Westminster. But she had insisted on both, declaring that she would not let him come without her. Not that he himself had been anxious to come;
very much the reverse. But what could he do? Edwards summons, although courteous, even friendly, had been a command not a request, for the attendance of his well-loved Lord Robert at the celebration of the royal birthday, his sixty-seventh. To have refused would have been a declaration of war, premature and foolhardy; yet this acceptance was putting his head into the lions mouth, with a vengeance. It was Elizabeths belief that her presence with her husband could do no harm, and might possibly do good.
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