Yes, yes, the townsmen cried. All eyes were on the Prior.
Slowly, expressionlessly, that man inclined his head.
Very well. Then we shall accompany you back to your Priory, my lord, the King nodded.
As your guests, to receive your hospitality, as offered. Hexham is safe … for a year. Come, to horse …
As they rode towards the town, Douglas, at the Kings side, shook his head.
I mislike this chattering with the enemy, Sire, he said.
We came to punish, not to barter and deal! To cause the English army at Berwick to look back over its shoulder…
Spoken like my good brother Edward! Bruce asserted, smiling.
Edward had advisedly been left behind in Scotland to prosecute the siege of the English in Perth. He would have fitted but uncomfortably into this highly delicate campaign.
How do you know what we came to do, Jamie? We came to upset the Berwick army, without fighting it, yes. But much more. And that, I swear, is already achieved-or will be when the tidings reach them. Think you burning and her ship the only way to cause the English alarm?
It is their confidence, their pride, I would undermine. And this days work will do that even better than yesterdays. Though yesterdays was necessary for todays.
You mean… you planned this, Sire?
Say that I hoped for it. This Prior has served me better than he knows. Better than just by filling my purse! He leads the way for others to follow. Others will be prepared to dc what the proud Prior of Hexham did not balk at-to buy their safety. For the moment! All over the North of England, let us hope.
But … you could have had the wealth of Hexham -all of it-by but drawing your sword! Why this tempo rising …?
Do you not see it, Jamie? I warrant Thomas Randolph would have
understood! He has a head on his shoulders for more than swordery. See
you-my realm is direly impoverished. The governance of a kingdom
requires much money. My treasury is empty, and I can by no means fill
it from Scotland. If I burned Hexham today and took its treasure-that
would be all I would win from it. This way, I have given it assurance
for a year, for 2,000 mer ks
Think you that next year it will not think perhaps to buy more safety, instead of fighting? And others like it? Another 2,000.
Riches breed caution, James-and the English North has grown rich on the spoil of Scotland. We shall see to it that all hear of Hexhams bargain. There are many, many towns and abbeys and priories in these parts. After my burning of Gillsland, as was necessary, and sparing Haltwhistle and Hexham, I swear others will seek to make similar bargains. We shall, of course, burn here and there, to remind all! Hereafter, by constant raiding over the Border, I intend to see that Cumberland and Northumberland-aye, and even Durham and York-pay their taxes to King Robert rather than King Edward! Think you this will not trouble the English at Berwickor at least, their leaders-as much as a few more towns ablaze?
Douglas was speechless.
Hexham was situated at a most vital junction of ways and roads and rivers. In every direction valleys and routes radiated. Even as the crow flew, however, it was sixty and more miles to Berwick.
They had four days, Bruce reckoned. And with the sort of men he had brought, a great deal could be achieved in four days, from a centre like Hexham. That very evening he split up his force into two hundreds, under eager captains, and next morning sent them forth, strictly commanded, wolves amongst scattered sheep-but careful, calculating, persuasive wolves, who intended to come back this way again and again, seeking sheeps fleeces rather than their blood.
Then he rode back to Haltwhistle, where all would rendezvous four days hence-unless, somehow, a major English attack developed sooner. From Haltwhistle he could keep a generals eye on Carlisle and the southwest- and could be back through empty bills to the Border in two or three hours.
Glory could wait on another occasion.
Chapter Nineteen
The King wiped the rain off his reddened, weather-beaten, deeply lined
face, and cursed the blustering showers-even though it was April and
the season for such; two Aprils since his first English raid. It was
not the discomfort that concerned him, for he was now so inured to
discomfort as scarcely to notice it. What worried him was the effect
of all this wind on the sea, and therefore on the ships he was riding
to join-or, at least, on the stomachs of the men behind him who would
sail in those open galleys. Seasick warriors were any commanders
nightmare. Lowering his head into the wet south-westerly gusts he
kicked his stumbling horse up the last soggy peat pocked, outcrop-strewn rise of the long heather ridge, muttering profanities.
The tinkle of laughter at his elbow was mocking, challenging and affectionate in one. Christina MacRuarie, as befitted a Hebridean, cared nothing for wind or rain.
You are getting old, Robert! she accused.
Near to forty, and beginning to cherish your comforts. Of which, to be sure, I am one!
A chair by the ingle-I swear that is what you are dreaming of!
A chair anywhere, woman! he growled.
Anything but this saddle. I am never out of it. Dear God-I rule Scotland from the back of a horse! From over the Border to Inverness. From St.
Andrews to the Forest. From Galloway to Argyll. Year in, year out, I live in the saddle. I vow my rump is so calloused that I shall never sit aught else in comfort!
It does not incommode you in bed, at least! she asserted.
Nor, it seems, in scaling walls! And sitting on judgement-seats and in parliaments!
And I so old a man!
Never heed. Soon you will be standing on a galleys poop, concerned only for your belly, not your bottom! If Angus Og has waited for you at Dumbarton!
He will be waiting. I am none so late. Four days? Five?
Angus is not the most patient of mortals. And would have preferred to sail for Man direct, without calling into Clyde. He told me so himself, at Inverness. He says he could, and should, reduce the Isle of Man to obedience, of himself, without the King of Scots aid!
No doubt-and so claim Man as his thereafter! As part of the Sudreys, the South Isles. No-Angus is my good friend-but he must learn who is master in Scotland. Man is part of my realm, and must remain so-not part of the Lordship of the Isles.
At last they had reached the summit of the long lateral ridge of Rednock, last outpost of the Highlands, and were able to look out over the vast trough of the Forth, and all the wide waterlogged vacances of the Flanders Moss. Below, the isle-dotted Loch of Menteith gloomed leaden under the scudding rain clouds, and to the west the tall hills of Loch Lomond and the Lennox were part shrouded by drifting curtains. But eastwards there was a break in the overcast, and, in the slanting yellow afternoon sunlight fifteen miles away, Stirling rose proudly out of the level plain, castle crowning its soaring rock in a golden blaze.
The sight, sun notwithstanding, did nothing to sweeten Bruces temper. Indeed, he turned abruptly away from it, in his saddle, to look back over the long straggling columns of his host, which seemed to extend quite a lot of the way back to Perth.
Keith! he jerked, to the group immediately behind him.
Sir Robert-you are Marischal of this realm, are you not? Look there!
I warrant it is time that you did some marshalling! Gall you that a royal progress? More like a flock of straying sheep! See you to it, sir!
Yes, Sire. Keith, without demur, wheeled round his mount and went cantering back, others with him. When the King was in this frame of mind, such reaction was the only wise one.
Christina, of them all, chose otherwise, as often.
Stirling! she cried.
Stirling Castle,
there, arrogantly lording it over all. The key to Scotland! When will the King of Scots do to Stirling what he had just done to Perth?
Gods sake, woman-Stirling is like no other fortress in the kingdom! Even Edinburgh, Bruce flung back, rising to her taunt It cannot be taken by surprise, or battery, nor any device. Only starvation can take it-or treachery. Besides, it is Stirling, the place, that is the key to Scotland-not Stirling Castle. Wallace won Stirling Brig fight, while yet the English were secure in the castle. I have no time to spend on that hold.
Yet you spent four days in Perth. At risk of Angus Ogs patience!
Days! Months it would take. Five months I would require, to take Stirling Castle. I have more to do, by the Rude!
She laughed.
Your brother told me once that he could crack that nut quickly enough if you would let him try!
Edward! Edward speaks loud. He tried to take Perth -but did not!
Christina smiled, with her womans guile. This would bring the King out of his black mood. Set brother against brother, and there would be no more glooming, at least.
Not that Bruce had any immediate cause for gloom. His recent capture
of the town of Perth had been a brilliant feat, and all his own. Many,
including his brother, had tried, these past years, to reduce the
Tayside city, but all had failed. The late King Edward had fortified
it as only he knew how, as the strategic centre in the Southern
Highlands. Sir Andrew Fraser had been the last to take its siege in
hand; and on his way south for his parliament in Inverness, Bruce had
come this way to see how matters moved. Matters had not been moving at
all, and on the second night the King in person had led an assault,
first by swimming the Tay in spate, and then the outer moat; then by
scaling the outer rampart by ropeladder and grappling-hooks, at this,
the least well-guarded flank, to swim the second moat and thereafter gain the parapet of the inner bailey, from whence he could storm one of the gates from the inside, open it, and let in the flood of more conventional attackers.
So, after nine long years, Perth was in Scots hands again; and only Dundee remained English-occupied north of Forth. Two more days Bruce had spent in the town thereafter, setting things to right-and hanging the Scots traitors who had aided the English and mistreated their fellow-citizens during the occupation. The English he had allowed to go to their ships in the Tay, and sail for home. It was, however, those hanging Scots, decorating the captured walls, who had sent the King on his way in this black temper-for though Robert Bruce could be ruthless and inexorable where sternness was called for, such measures always left him a prey to conscience.
Frowning still, but no longer sullen, Bruce led the way down the south-facing slopes into the Carse of Forth, to turn west along it for Gartmore and Drymen.
Next day they found the Lord of the Isles great galley fleet awaiting them in the Clyde at Dumbarton -though with Angus Og himself away hawking with the MacGregor on Loch Lomond side,. and his Islesmen setting a scandalised area by the ears. Embarkation had to delayed for another day. It was the Kings turn to wait patiently.
This expedition against the Isle of Man had been decided upon at the recent Inverness parliament-for two reasons other than the simple fact that it was an integral part of the Scots realm presently occupied by the English. Firstly, Edward of Carnarvon had granted it in gift to his favourite, Piers Gaveston -and Gaveston was now beheaded, a piece of judicial murder by the Earls of Lancaster and Warwick as much deplored in Scotland, where the favourites de moralising effect on King Edward was appreciated, as it was gleefully acclaimed by the English nobility; therefore there would for the moment be a hiatus in the control of Man. And secondly, John of Lorn, whom Edward had made his Admiral of the Western Seas, was using the island as a base, and interfering with the Scots lines of communication with Ireland, important for the supply of grain, arms, horses and other sinews of war. There was also the advantage, of course, that any such attack on Man might have the useful by-product of distracting the enemy from full-scale invasion of Scotland this coming campaigning season.
They sailed from Dumbarton, still in squally conditions. Bruce embarked some hundreds of his own force but sent the majority eastwards to aid Douglas, who was engaged in punitive raiding into English-held Lothian. This expedition was something of a waste of his cavalry, admittedly, since the horses had to be left behind; but the Isles lordship had always been interested in winning the Isle of Man for itself, and it was important that the King and his own troops should be to the fore in any taking of the place.
Angus was a sound ally and friend-if less sound a subject-but he was no more immortal than the rest of them, and a successor in the Lordship of the Isles, holding Man, could be a thorn in the flesh. Yet, of course, Bruce could nowise assail it without Anguss galleys.
They made an uncomfortable voyage of it down the Firth and along the Ayrshire and Galloway coasts. Half a dozen of the Garmoran galleys were included in the fleet-hence Christinas presence, the only woman in the expedition-and the King sailed in her own vessel. Fortunately he was an excellent sailor; a sick monarch and commander would have cut a sorry figure amongst those Islesmen. There was considerable discussion as to whether these gales would give any tactical advantage. They would certainly make any attack on Man unexpected; and they would be likely to keep John MacDougall stormbound-but whether at Man itself or in any English or Irish ports, remained to be seen.
As to that, the King hoped to gain some prior information. For the fleet was going to make a call up the Solway Firth en route, to where Edward Bruce was at present besieging Dumfries and Caerlaverock Here he hoped to get the latest news from England, and to pick up some further reinforcements for the expedition -however much of a waste of time Angus Og declared it.
It was a relief to turn into the shallow, sheltered waters of the Solway, and thereafter into the narrow Nith estuary. They found the English flag still flying defiantly from Caerlaverock Castle and then, six miles farther up, at Dumfries. They also found Edward to be absent, with the siege of Dumfries maintained by Sir Robert Boyd, and that of Caerlaverock by Sir Thomas Randolph.
Edward, it seemed, was off raiding in Cumberland across the Solway sands. Word had recently been brought back from England that the Scots commissioners, sent secretly to collect the annual dues from subscribing towns, abbeys and the like, had this year met with trouble.
In fact, more than trouble-annihilation. They had reached
Hexham-on-Tyne, with some of the moneys collected, and there, instead
of receiving the third of the Priors payments-for safety, they had
been hanged, and their treasure confiscated. That proud churchman had
presumably decided that he might spare himself further expense. Only
one or two of the Scots party had escaped, to win back to Dumfries with
the tale of it. Edward Bruce being the man he was, had promptly
mounted a fierce sally into the flat lands west of Carlisle.
The Kings anger was cold where his brothers had been hot.
Dumfries had a bad effect on him anyway-the scene of his slaying of John Comyn nine years earlier, even though also of his assumption of the crown. He had shunned the place, since. Even now he would not sleep in the armed camp which surrounded the walled town, but removed himself the few miles back to Caerlaverock, and Randolphs camp. Here he detached himself from all, to pace alone, well out with arrow-shot of the magnificent fortress in the marshes. It was a time not for wrath so much as hard decision.
He had made up his mind before he slept that night. Major, changes of programme were called for.
The next morning brought the need for still further and quite unanticipated decision. Boyd himself rode in from Dumfries bringing with him a young man, square, stocky, richly-dressed but uneasy o
f eye and manner.
Sire, Boyd declared, here is one, MacDouall. Fergus, son to Sir Dugald MacDouall… of whom you know!
There, in the tented encampment, Bruce stared, his breath catching in his throat at the identification of this son of his hated enemy, of the man who had given up his brothers to shameful death. He did not trust himself to speak. Those around him were suddenly silent quite.
He comes under a flag of truce, Sire. From his father in yonder;
Dumfries Castle. He would … treat with you, he says!
Treat! That bloodstained traitors son? Gods mercy…!
Treat, my lord King, the young man reiterated, tense-voiced, In my fathers name.
Hang him! Angus Og advised succinctly.
Also in his fathers name! As you will treat the other-not treat with him!
Many around the King growled their agreement.
No! No-hear me, Sire, the MacDouall cried.
You cannot so do. I came under flag of truce. By all the laws of war you cannot do it …
Did your father observe the laws of war, wretch, when he took his liege lords brothers prisoner, and then sent them to their deaths? That was Gilbert Hay.
That… that was long ago. When I was but a child. And my father could not know. That King Edward would slay them. It Was Edwards orders. My father recognised Edward as Kingnot you, Sire. Still he does-the new Edward. He is King Edwards governor of Dumfries and Warden of the West March..
Bruce held up a hand that trembled slightly, for silence.
Well?
he grated.
Say what you have to say.
Yes, Sire. My father sends me to say that if you will promise him, and his garrison, their lives and liberty, he will yield Dunn fries. To you.
So-o-o! That is it? And he thinks that I will grant him such terms?
Your Graces clemency is known.
Aye! Angus Og snorted And there you have it. Any traitor and dastard in this land now conceives himself to be safe! That he will not have to pay for his sins. You have let off too many rogues, Sir King. That is what your clemency means now!
The Path of the Hero King bt-2 Page 40
