by H A CULLEY
She had taken Prince David, now styled Earl of Carrick, with her and Robert now had to arrange for his care. He turned to his friend Thomas Randolph and asked his countess, Isabel Stewart, to take care of his son until he could set up a separate household for the prince.
Elizabeth’s body was brought south in a funeral cortege to Dunfermline Abbey, where she was buried in accordance with her wishes so that she could be near her infant son, John.
On the same day as the funeral Simon set off with an escort of twelve men, including his two knights, to take two chests containing one thousand marks in silver to Newcastle. Simon was right to be suspicious of Geoffrey. He had become conceited and felt that his service to Simon was undervalued. His discontent was encouraged by Abigail, who had grown jealous of Bridget and the higher status and wealth that her brother’s wife enjoyed. She was forever badgering Geoffrey to buy her costly gowns and jewels, which he couldn’t afford on the stipend he received as steward. The honest and grateful boy had turned into a dissatisfied and untrustworthy man.
As soon as he knew the departure date for the silver, he passed a message to his contact at the tavern. He, in turn, passed the information on to Roger Mortimer’s agent in Berwick.
It was the last piece in the plan. King Edward had been forced to agree to Robert’s request that Edgar should be ransomed so that peace talks could commence. Both he and Mortimer were anxious to avoid another Scottish incursion into Northern England. The last muster had cost the English treasury one hundred thousand marks , much of the money going to pay for mercenaries from Hainault who had ended up sitting around doing nothing. They certainly could not afford to field another army to oppose the Scots and so negotiating a peace treaty became a priority
However Edward had not forgiven the man who had treated his royal person with such indignity and he was determined on his execution. The only way he could achieve that and not jeopardise the talks was to prevent the payment of Edgar’s ransom.
Now they knew when Simon was to take it to Newcastle, Mortimer arranged for some of his men to ambush Simon on his way south and steal the money. Although they wouldn’t display any badges, and had to appear to be common outlaws, Mortimer decided that he couldn’t risk trying to do this on Scottish soil, so it would have to be on the road between the crossing over the Tweed at Norham and Newcastle. The site chosen for the ambush was a wood just south of Alnwick.
~#~
Simon had given some thought to the likely spot for an ambush and had decided that it would probably be in the woods near Alnwick or further south near Morpeth. Unbeknownst to Geoffrey, he has confided his fears to Thomas Randolph and arranged to travel with the earl and his escort. The other negotiator, Bishop William Lamberton, and his escort would also be travelling with them. In total the cavalcade numbered two hundred, including twenty knights, forty serjeants and sixty men-at-arms. The rest were servants, clerics, squires and cart drivers. Because the Scottish delegation would live in their own tented camp outside the town of Newcastle, there were quite a number of carts and the one containing Simon’s small pavilion, his men’s tents and equipment and the two chests of silver were indistinguishable from the rest.
Of course, the inclusion of Simon’s silver chests was kept secret but the other wagons also included money chests belonging to Lamberton and Randolph and gold and silver chalices for mass. However, these did not amount to anything like one thousand marks.
When Mortimer’s men saw the long , heavily guarded convoy with its baggage train and spotted Simon de Powburn’s surcoat next to that of the Earl of Moray, they knew that they had been tricked, and slipped quietly away.
Edward was furious at being denied justice for Edgar, as he saw it, and was determined that someone would pay. Mortimer had always seen Edward as a young boy who would do as he was told. Now he realised that Edward was a very determined individual who didn’t like it when he didn’t get his own way. For the first time he realised that he might have to tread carefully around him. Certainly, he would have to be manipulated with care from now on. It was unfortunate that Queen Isabella couldn’t see this but mothers sometimes see their children in a different light to the way they really are.
The King blamed both Mortimer for getting it wrong and Geoffrey of Wooler for giving them bad information. The latter ended up being the scapegoat and the next time he went to the tavern in Eyemouth he never made it home. He was found with his throat cut the next morning. As his purse was missing, it was assumed that the motive was robbery but Simon suspected otherwise.
Simon never told Edgar about the plot to prevent the ransom reaching Newcastle in the stipulated time but they took a ship home to Eyemouth just to be on the safe side.
Chapter Seventeen – Peace at Last
March to November 1328
King Robert was increasingly troubled by pains in the chest and bouts of weakness, but he was determined to see the independence of Scotland and his own position as King of Scots formally recognised by the King of England. He was also determined to see the Pope lift both the interdict and his own sentence of excommunication.
The first step was to sign the peace treaty, which the English and Scottish envoys had eventually managed to reach agreement about at Newcastle. Robert did this in Edinburgh on the seventeenth of March and it was ratified by Edward and his parliament at Northampton on the fourth of May.
The main provisions of the treaty were recognition of Bruce’s position as king of an independent country and renunciation by the English king of all claims to sovereignty over Scotland, or any part of it, including Berwick upon Tweed. To cement the peace it was agreed that the four year old Prince David would marry Joan of the Tower, the six year old sister of King Edward. Finally, Robert was to pay Edward the sum of thirty thousand marks as recompense for all the Scottish raids on Northern England. It was a great sum of money but it was nowhere near what the Scots had gained from the raids over the years and it wasn’t even half of what Edward had to pay his army for the abortive muster the previous year.
Whilst the treaty was greeted with great rejoicing in Scotland, it caused some discontent in England. There were many English nobles who had held land in Scotland in the past whose claims were now effectively rejected. There was also a general feeling that England had been humiliated by the Scots. Surprisingly, this discontent was not directed at young King Edward but towards Queen Isabella and Roger Mortimer.
Now that England had recognised Scotland, Robert needed the Pope to do the same to confirm its status internationally. He therefore wrote to the Pope to ask him to formally remove all the penalties he had imposed and to agree that future Kings of Scotland could be anointed and crowned by the Bishop of St. Andrews.
Robert decided that, with his own failing health, he couldn’t afford to send Thomas Randolph out of the country for the length of time necessary. He chose John de Lindsay, Bishop of Glasgow, and Patrick, Earl of Dunbar, as his emissaries. Patrick asked Edgar to provide the ships to transport them but, after his narrow escape, Edgar had grown unwilling to move too far from his home. Simon therefore volunteered to organise the shipping and to travel with the earl to Avignon. This time Simon persuaded Bridget to accompany him. An added attraction for her was the fact that their son, John, who was now a ten year old page at Dunbar, would be travelling with the earl’s party.
Simon’s one problem was finding a new steward to replace Geoffrey. He went up to Dunbar to see if Earl Patrick could help but he didn’t know of anyone suitable. As the king and Thomas Randolph were in Edinburgh, he took his quest there next and came back with a twenty year old scribe from the Lord Treasurer’s staff called Andrew of Montrose. He came well recommended and his experience with the royal exchequer would be invaluable.
It was therefore with an untroubled mind that Simon and Bridget set sail from Berwick in July 1328. On arrival at Ouistreham Simon and a group consisting of his wife and son, who had been given leave to accompany his parents, Bridget’s maid, the sixteen year old Ian
Logan, Simon’s two knights and their squires set off for Clécy. Bridget said that the countryside was very pretty, though she obviously thought that it didn’t compare with the rugged grandeur of parts of her homeland, and basked in the warmth of a summer’s day. She was riding side saddle, rather than in a carriage, as they wanted to travel as quickly as possible. Simon calculated that they could meet up with the slow moving convoy, which included several baggage carts as well as the bishop’s carriage, at Lyon. This should give them three days at Clécy. At any event, that was the plan.
Rollo, now twenty two, had filled out a bit since Simon had left him there as constable. Duncan Murray stood by his side and he would have hardly recognised him. The gangly thirteen year old boy had grown into a muscular youth who looked two years older than his actual age of fifteen.
After the customary greetings they went into the great hall and Simon asked about the bailiff he had recruited.
‘Sadly he died of a fever less than a year after you left.’
Simon thought it strange that Geoffrey, who had visited Clécy for a week twice a year to check the books, collect what was due to Sir Simon and generally assure himself that there were no problems, hadn’t mentioned this to him.
‘Oh? So who is the bailiff now?’
‘Well, I keep an eye on things, of course, but Armand does most of the bailiff’s work.’
‘How? Like me, you can’t read or write much, if at all.’ Then he hesitated, puzzled. ‘Who is Armand?’
At that moment Bridget and John came into the great hall with Duncan, who had been showing them around the keep. A young boy of about twelve or thirteen followed them. He looked slightly ridiculous in the long black gown he was wearing, instead of the hose and tunic worn by most boys his age. He looked more like a novice monk, except the gown wasn’t a habit. It was more like the type you would expect a steward to wear. Then it struck him.
‘That boy is the bailiff?’ he asked incredulously.
‘Armand keeps the books and helps me. We sort of share the duties.’
‘I see. Where did you get him from?’
At that moment a young girl appeared and answered Simon’s question before Rollo could.
‘He ran away from the abbey at Falaise when he was twelve. He didn’t like being a novice monk but had no clear idea what he wanted to do. Sir Rollo found him on the road, half-starved and sopping wet. He had a fever and I nursed him back to health. He’s been here ever since.’
The girl who spoke can’t have been more than fifteen. She was startling to look at. She wasn’t pretty in the conventional sense but she was certainly attractive. Her long black hair looked almost dark blue and it shone, despite the dim light in the hall. Her body was sensual and Simon had to stop himself gawping at her before Bridget noticed.
‘Is this your wife?’ As soon as he asked the question Simon knew that the answer would be in the negative. Rollo would have written to him had he become betrothed.
‘Not exactly, Sir Simon. I’m sorry Lady Bridget, she’s, well, um er..’
‘You don’t have to be ashamed of me, Rollo. I’m his companion, well, mistress really. My name is Ann-Marie de St. Pierre.’
‘I don’t understand. Are you living together? Then why not get married?’
‘Because I’m already married to a fat old merchant in Caen; I too am a runaway. He used to beat me and rape me. The truth is, he was incapable of getting sexually aroused any other way.’ She paused. ‘I’ll quite understand if you want me to leave. After all, we are living in sin.’
Bridget surprised Simon by taking the girl in her arms and hugging her.
‘Don’t be silly, my dear. You obviously make Rollo happy and that’s all that matters.’
Simon thought of a lot of things he could say, to do with children, the law and the church but he held his tongue.
That evening Rollo told him of the problems he was having with a band of outlaws living in the high massif. He had no proof but he strongly suspected that it was the former bailiff, Gaston, his scribe, Jean, and the three scruffy men-at-arms.
‘I thought that the viscount in Falaise was dealing with the three soldiers?’
‘He had them whipped and let them go.’ Rollo said dejectedly.
‘Then we had better sort them out whilst we are here.’
The following morning Michael and Thomas, Simon’s two knights, set off disguised as pedlars with a donkey led by Michael’s squire, Nicholas, laden with boxes supposedly containing trading goods. Simon and Rollo followed on horseback at a discreet distance with Rollo’s four serjeants. At first they didn’t think Gaston was going to bite but, a mile outside the next village three men stepped out onto the track in front of them and two more appeared behind them.
‘Well, what have we here? A nice little collection of trinkets and gewgaws to sell to gullible women and, more importantly for us, a nice fat purse containing your ill-gotten gains.’
Gaston was holding a rusty sword, Jean a spear and the third man a crossbow. Michel glanced behind him and saw that one of the two there held another crossbow and the other a woodman’s axe.
‘We have no money, we haven’t started to sell yet,’ Thomas said in what he hoped sounded like a quavering voice.
‘Well, we had better check that, hadn’t we?’
The third man, seeing the peddlers were disposed to be cooperative, made the mistake of lowering his crossbow. Before they had realised it, the two knights had drawn their swords from under the blanket on the donkey and attacked Gaston and Jean. The crossbowman, realising his mistake, raised his weapon but he couldn’t get a clear shot as the other two robbers were in his line of fire.
At that moment, Simon, Rollo and the serjeants rode around the bend in the track. Simon swept his sword down, smashing it into the second crossbowman’s shoulder, whilst Rollo thrust his own sword into the neck of the second man. Ignoring the screams of the man with the smashed collar bone, they pounded on towards the other group. They weren’t needed.
Michael had contemptuously swept aside the sword being inexpertly wielded by Gaston, whilst Nicholas darted under the wild jabs made by Jean’s spear and thrust his dagger into the man’s right calf. He fell onto one knee with a cry and Thomas swung his sword in a wide arc, chopping his head from the man’s scrawny neck.
This would have given the third man a clear shot but he was no longer there. Simon chased the panicking man through the trees and out into a clearing where a ramshackle cottage stood. He caught up with him halfway across the clearing and thrust his sword into the man’s back. He fell to the ground, pulling Simon’s sword out of his hand and snapping the thin leather strap which attached it to his mailed wrist.
Suddenly Simon became aware of the woman and her brood of children, who had been working outside the cottage when he had ridden into the clearing. She had picked up a spear from somewhere and all four urchins had a weapon of some sort, be it just a cudgel. They were running straight at him and he was unarmed. As they were only a few yards away now, he didn’t have time to turn his horse and flee.
Simon threw up his shield to ward off the spear wielded by the angry woman but suddenly she jerked backwards with a quarrel embedded in her chest. Another quarrel took a boy of about eleven in the shoulder as he ran at him welding a small axe. Rollo and the other men rode into the clearing but it didn’t seem to deter the remaining two children: a girl of fourteen and a boy of nine or so.
The girl tried to get under Simon’s destrier to disembowel it but the horse reared up and, as it had been trained to do, it kicked out with his forelegs at his assailant. The hoof that connected with her face crushed the girl’s skull and turned her head into a mass of blood, bone and grey brain matter. The girl let go of the knife as she dropped lifeless to the ground but the nine-year old boy scooped it up with a howl, leaped in the air and plunged it with all his might into Simon’s right thigh.
No-one would have believed that such a small scrap of humanity would have had the strength
to burst asunder chain mail and sink the knife hilt-deep into his leg. As the boy dropped back to the ground Michael galloped up and delivered a killing blow with his battle axe and the boy toppled sideways, his head half cloven in two.
Ian and Duncan helped Simon from his horse whilst Nicholas held it still and tried to calm it down. Meanwhile Alexander walked over to the screaming boy with the shattered shoulder and thrust his sword through his neck.
‘No point in letting any of them grow up to cause more trouble. They were a real nest of vipers,’ he muttered to Rollo.
‘I agree, it had to be done but I don’t like killing children. In a way, I’m glad they attacked us. It saved me having to hang them.’
Half an hour later the dead outlaw’s family and their men had been hanged from three trees next to the road as a warning to others.
They improvised a litter from spears and cloaks, carried between two horses, to get Simon back to Clécy. Luckily the knife hadn’t chipped the bone or damaged an artery. It had taken a lot of metal and bits of cloth into the wound though, which Bridget and Ian had to fish out before the squire could suture the wound. By the time that they had finished Simon had nearly bitten through the piece of leather Ian had given him to bite on and the effects of the bottle of brandy he had drunk had long since worn off.
It would be weeks before Simon could walk properly and, at the moment, his wound hurt too much for him to do anything but lie in bed. He decided to send Michael and Alexander on to Lyons with John and their squires whilst he remained at Clécy with Bridget to recover.
It took him the best part of two months but by early October he was nearly fit again and they set off for Ouistreham. They arrived a week later to find Patrick Dunbar and the bishop already there, their mission a success but no sign of the ships.
They arrived three days later, having been delayed by a severe storm. Ian prayed fervently that they wouldn’t suffer another on the way back, and he wasn’t alone. However, it was an uneventful crossing and by mid-November the word had gone out that the interdict on Scotland had been lifted.
