The Price of the King's Peace bt-3

by Nigel Tranter

  There was silence in that room for a little, as all considered the

  implications.

  “Why? Why did he do it?” Bruce went on.

  “He is rash, yes. But dais is not the result of a sudden whim. This he must have planned.”

  Boyd coughed.

  “My lord of Moray believes that he intended this, before ever he went

  to Ireland. That he had O’Neil’s, and the others’, offers of the

  throne, secretly, all along. That this was the real reason for the

  Irish adventure-not the English treaty. So my lord said, to tell Your Grace. “ “Aye I can see it now. Was I blind? How could I tell that he, my own flesh and blood, could so intend?”

  “Edward was ever ambitious,” the Queen reminded.

  “Chafed under authority. Yours or other.”

  “He was not content to be named as heir to your throne,” Lennox put in.

  “He required a throne now!”

  “Once I heard him say that there was not room in Scotland for both Bruces!” Douglas added.

  “He said that…?”

  “Aye, Sire. I did not tell you. But he said it.”

  “He thought me hard on him, yes. But was I so? He seldom obeyed my orders. Chose his own way. But there can only be one king in a realm, one master, not two. I’ faith, I learned that lesson sufficiently in the Guardianships!”

  “So now he has gone to be king in a realm of his own, Robert,”

  Elizabeth said soothingly.

  “Is that so ill, in the end? For you? At least Edward cannot now afflict you by his disobedience and resentment.

  As King of Ireland he will no longer trouble you. And will be a sore thorn in the English flesh.”

  “Your Grace’s pardon,” Boyd interjected heavily, “but I fear that it is less simple than that. The Lord Edward sends a courier, Sir William de Soulis, the Butler, to inform His Grace of all this.

  And to seek more men. Aid. Money. Food. Horses.”

  “Mother of God-he does?” Bruce cried.

  “After this, he turns round and seeks my help!” The King actually barked a harsh laugh.

  “Edward! Edward would! Save us-that is my brother, to be sure!”

  “What will you do, Sire?” Hay asked.

  “What can I do?” Bruce took a pace or two back and forth.

  “The deed is done. I cannot undo that. I can refuse him aid. Recall all Scots forces from Ireland. Leave him to his Irish. That, yes.”

  He paused.

  “But … will it serve me any advantage? Serve Scotland’s cause? Good, or ill?”

  “You will not further support him, Sire!” Douglas exclaimed.

  “Now! After this …?”

  “Let me think, Jamie-let me think, a mercy’s sake. I must think, even if Edward does not! Poor Ireland, with an unthinking king!” He looked up.

  “Sir Robert-how does my nephew say? My lord of Moray? His judgement in matters of state I ever esteem.

  Did he reveal his mind to you?”

  “He did not make so bold as to send advice, Your Grace,” Boyd answered carefully.

  “But he did say that, though you would be angry, wrathful, he did not believe that you would break with the Lord Edward. That though your cause suffers set-back in this, all may not be loss. That you may still use him, and the Irish, to your advantage.”

  “Aye. So I begin to think also. He is a long-headed wight is Thomas!

  And how think yourself, man? Your counsel also I value.”

  “Since you ask, Sire-I say likewise. Send him support. Possibly but little. But promise more later, on condition that he moves south forthwith against the English, with all speed and strength. Before they can learn of this, and send reinforcement from England. Since you cannot unmake this king, use him while you may. It will not bring about your peace treaty. But it could weaken your enemies.

  Which is always profitable.”

  “There speaks good sense. I thank you, friend.” Bruce smiled

  grimly.

  “Was that why you came so fast? From Ireland. To reach me first So that I should not, in my wrath, say what could not be unsaid? Refuse all support? And so, in haste, injure my cause?”

  The other looked uncomfortable.

  “Not so, Sire,” he said gruffly.

  “Or … but little. I came swiftly that you should have the tidings

  from your own friends. The more so in that I mislike William de

  Soulis!”

  “Ah. Very well, Sir Robert. I thank you, whatever your reasons.

  Now, refreshment…”

  So Bruce was well prepared when, two days later, Sir William de Soulis, Lord of Liddesdale and Hereditary Butler to the King of Scots, nephew of the late Guardian, came riding into the camp outside the walls of Berwick with quite an imposing cavalcade, all under a great banner bearing the three golden crowns of Tara, on blue-a device not seen in Scotland for centuries.

  The King received him in a grassy hollow at a bend of Tweed.

  But however ready he was for the other’s mission, he was scarcely prepared for his manner and style.

  “Greetings, Sire!” the newcomer called, after the considerable trumpet flourish.

  “I, William de Soulis, Lord of Liddesdale in the Kingdom of Scotland, and Earl of Dundalk in the Kingdom of Ireland, bring greeting and God-speed from the mighty, puissant and gracious Lord Edward, by God’s grace High King of All Ireland, to the illustrious Lord Robert, King of Scots. Hail!”

  Bruce blinked.

  “All that?” he wondered.

  ”Between brothers, Sir William, is that not… too much? “It was the

  other’s turn to blink. But he was a suave and quick witted man,

  handsome, florid, courtly and not easily put out.

  “Your Grace has heard?” he wondered.

  “Heard that His Grace your royal brother is now King of Ireland?”

  “Aye, friend-I have heard. Though not that he had started to make earls so soon!”

  De Soulis bowed.

  “My poor worth over-valued,” he agreed smoothly.

  “But the greetings I bring are none the less hearty. I bring them with love and esteem.”

  “I would esteem them more, sir, if they were offered in more seemly fashion. I am not used to receiving greetings from seated subjects, while I stand!”

  Hastily de Soulis dismounted, and his entourage with him.

  “Your Grace’s pardon. I was conveying greetings from one monarch to another. As envoy.”

  “Sir William, on Scottish soil you are the servant of one monarch only. Lord of Liddesdale -nothing else. Save my household butler! Remember it!”

  “Yes, Sire. To be sure. I crave pardon.”

  “As you ought, sir. Now-deliver my brother’s message. But as my subject.”

  “H’mm. As you will. His Grace of Ireland sends royal greetings and fraternal affection. He informs you that he has accepted and assumed the crown of All Ireland, duly offered and presented by O’Neil, King of Tyrone, with the Kings of Munster, Leinster, Meath and Thomond, and other sub-kings and lords of that realm duly assembled. For the welfare of that kingdom, the better prosecution of the war with England, and for the good alliance and support of your realm. To such end His Grace offers a treaty of alliance between both equal realms, of mutual support and aid of all kinds, against all and soever. This in love and esteem. God save the King!”

  “Indeed! Which king?” Bruce observed mildly. And when the other did not answer, went on, “Why did my royal brother not inform me of such assumption of this throne?”

  “Inform, Your Grace? But surely … surely you knew? That it was possible. Mooted. Long since. Surely you knew that?”

  The King eyed the other searchingly. De Soulis seemed genuinely surprised. It was quite possible, quite in keeping, that Edward might not have informed even his closest associates that he had not told his brother of his monarchial ambitions and secret moves. In which case it might be wisest to let de Soulis remain in ignorance of the fact.”

  “I should have been informe
d of the impending coronation,” he said carefully.

  “Who knows, I might have wished to grace it by my presence!”

  De Soulis shook his head.

  “That His Grace did not confide in me. No doubt there was an urgency, Sire. No time. It would have taken many weeks to bring Your Grace to Dundalk.”

  “No doubt.” Bruce let it go.

  “Well, Sir William,” he went on, as though terminating the audience,

  “you have brought your tidings and my brother’s greetings. For which I

  thank you. I now must needs consider my reply, for you to take back

  to

  “But, Sire-there is more.” The other looked concerned.

  “Ah.”

  “Yes. In return for this proposed alliance of the two kingdoms, this aid in your war against England, His Grace requires aid also.

  He requires trained cavalry, with the horses. Arms. Money. Also

  provisions-for there is famine in Ireland. He requires these from

  “Requires, sir? Requires.”

  “Requests, Your Grace. In exchange for Ireland’s adherence to your cause.”

  “So! May I remind you, Sir William, that my brother went to Ireland as my lieutenant. To prosecute the war. To force a treaty from England. He took 6,000 of my subjects-mine, not his. And I have since sent more, with the Earl of Moray. Thus far, I have done the paying, provided all. With little result. Save, it seems, to win a throne for my brother! At my charge. Yet now he requires more from me, men and money. In exchange for his support! Here seems to me to be strange bargaining, sir!”

  “Matters have much changed, Sire, since our expedition left

  “Seemingly! But not of my will. I still expect my brother’s fullest

  support in this warfare, without any talk of exchange.”

  “I would remind Your Grace that Ireland is an independent kingdom”

  “Ireland is today a conquered province of England. I have had sufficient travail and sorrow in freeing Scotland from a like state, not to take on the reconquest of Ireland! If such is my brother’s design, he must needs find Irishmen to do it. Or other allies. My Scots forces are there solely to win a treaty of peace from Edward of Carnarvon.”

  There was silence while de Soulis digested that.

  ”Then-you will not send aid to the Lord Edward? To His Grace?” “I

  have not said so. But any that I send will go on my terms. Not as part of any bargain. They will be sent to the Earl of Moray, under his command. And he will take orders from myself. You understand? All Scots forces will he command, as my lieutenant -since my brother is no more that. And a full offensive southwards will be mounted forthwith. Before the English hear of this and send reinforcement. This is my decision. You will inform my brother.”

  The other bowed.

  “And … and how many men will I inform His Grace that you will send?

  Under these conditions.”

  “One thousand within the week. Light horse. More later, and when I hear that these are being used to good purpose. With silver.

  And food.”

  “His Grace hoped for many more than a thousand.”

  “His Grace will have to earn them, then! He has set back my hopes of a peace treaty, set back Scotland’s full recovery, by years.

  As the price of his crown. This you will tell him. You have it?

  Then, I declare this audience ended, Sir William. You may retire”

  Chapter Ten

  Bruce, typically, had chosen his own way to counter incipient sickness and debility. He had always claimed that it was the Earl of Buchan’s imminent threat, and the subsequent vigorous action of the Battle of Barra, which he had risen from his sick-bed at Inverurie to fight, which had cured him that first time. So, in midsummer of 1316, he had impatiently shaken himself, left the weary siege of Berwick to underlings, and exorcised his ill humours of body and mind by setting off personally, with James Douglas, Walter Stewart and a large, fast-moving force, on a massive, deep penetration raid into England.

  And, surprisingly, it had worked. In the saddle, at the head of an armed host in enemy territory, the hero-king became himself once more.

  Now in the golden days of early October, they were on their way home again, a little weary but flushed with success, and with almost an embarrassment of booty and prisoners to delay them.

  And Bruce was in no mood for a leisurely progress through the English North, however subservient its people. For the Queen’s time was due towards the end of the month, and the King was agog, eager, to be back for this momentous event. Also to be with Elizabeth in what could only be an anxious time. A first child, at her age, was bound to be less than easy; and Bruce’s first wife, as well as his daughter, had died in childbirth. Moreover, he had delayed a little longer than he had intended, in the south, due to the concomitants of unprecedented success.

  They had won as far south as Richmond, again, without major opposition and even to Bruce it had seemed strange for a King of Scots to be ranging at large so deep into the green heart of England without let or hindrance, entering cities, receiving addresses of reluctant welcome and even more reluctant tribute and treasure. Richmond itself, protected by its great castle, had been almost too reluctant, and had been all but committed to the flames before the unhappy magistrates realised that the castle would not, could not, save them, and had painfully paid up the promptly increased demands. Thereafter a certain amount of organised resistance in the West Riding had required that an example be made, and the Scots had swept through that fair land with fire and sword before, concerned about the time factor and the long journey home burdened with so much booty, Bruce had sent one more letter to an apparently unconcerned London urging an immediate treaty of peace. Perhaps he had waited rather too long for the answer which did not come. Quite unable to understand Edward of Carnarvon’s ideas as to ruling a kingdom, it had been the Scots’ turn for reluctance as the order for retiral was given.

  So it was that, in a mellow autumn noonday, hazy sun, turning bracken and reddening leaves, the long, long, winding column of chivalry, armed might, highly-placed prisoners for ransom, and laden packhorses by the thousand, had crossed Liddel Water north of Carlisle and was nearing the subsequent crossing of Esk on the line for Annandale, when another and scarcely less impressive, though smaller cavalcade came into sight ahead, over the green Border hills. No great noble or officer of state left in Scotland was likely to travel the land in such style, especially on apparent road to England, and the tremor of excitement ran through the royal host.

  When the sound of music and singing reached them on the still air, wonder grew. Admittedly great prelates sometimes travelled the country so with their choirs, acolytes and relics; but this was not Lamberton’s and certainly not Abbot Bernard’s style, and old Robert Wish art of Glasgow was practically on his deathbed.

  Then somebody perceived the preponderance of dark blue about the host

  of banners, and from that it did not take long to discern the three golden crowns on the greatest.

  “By the Rude-another embassage from Ireland!” the King cried.

  “What will it be this time? More men required? More money? More royal greetings?”

  “Sire-is that not the Earl of Moray’s banner?” Douglas asked.

  “Near the front. It is his colours-red and ermine.”

  “Not under the Irish standard, surely! Not Thomas …!”

  Then suddenly, as they drew closer, many about the King recognised something about the head-high, shoulder-back carriage of the slender figure in black armour that rode in the forefront of the oncoming brilliant company.

  “It is Edward himself!” Walter Stewart exclaimed.

  “My lord of Carrick. This … this king!”

  “Aye,” Bruce said.

  Men stared at each other doubtfully.

  The King drew rein.

  “Let us await His Grace,” he said carefully.

  To a vigorous fanfare of Irish trumpets they met there on the open side of one of their own Annandal
e hills. Edward drew up a yard or two away, the others falling back from the two principals.

  He raised a steel-gauntleted hand.

  “Hail, brother!” he said.

  Robert smiled a little “Well met, Edward,” he nodded.

  “Here is surprise.”

  “Yes. I greet you. Greet you in the name of all Ireland.”

  “Indeed? William de Soulis did that also, if I mind aright. What does it mean, Edward?”

  Somewhat taken aback, the other cleared his throat.

  “It means it means that it is not only as a brother that I greet you now, Robert. But as a monarch. Another king. One realm greeting another. That much, does it not?”

  “I do not know. Tell me how much it means. From one to whom words, professions, compacts, mean but little, it seems!”

  Edward flushed under his magnificent crested helm.

  “I was never one for splitting hairs, no,” he agreed.

  “Bartering words. I prefer to act, brother. I find it more

  profitable.”

  “Profitable,” Bruce nodded.

  “There we have it, yes. You have an aptitude for profit, Edward!”

  His brother frowned.

  “I do not know what you are at, man. Do not talk in riddles. I could never abide you in such mood. But… I had expected warmer welcome than this. After so long a parting. See you-here is no way for kin to meet, after so many months.”

  “Aye-perhaps I am too sober. You must bear with me. But… I cannot forget that at our last leave-taking you promised leal service as my lieutenant and representative, Edward. And then abused my trust. Used my forces for your own ends.”

  “Not so. What I did was for the benefit of your realm as well as of Ireland. To further the fight against the English. But, I’ faith-I have not come all this way to listen to your strictures, Robert! To be hectored by you. I have had enough of that in the past, by God! I would remind you that matters have changed since our last meeting. That although I am still your brother, I am no longer your subject! We are equals, now-equals, do you hear?

  Monarchs, both. I beg you not to forget it!” That was hot.

  As Edward grew the hotter, so Robert became the cooler.