The Path to the Throne

by H A CULLEY

  Such methods of waging war could only delay the inevitable and in early July Caerlaverock Castle surrendered. Edward was now free to invade Galloway and did so, but he stuck close to the coast so that he could be re-supplied by sea. As he approached Kirkcudbright the Scots galleys fled round the Mull of Galloway to Port Logan. To advance further Edward had to cross the River Cree and the Marshal of Scotland, Sir Robert Keith, decided to oppose him against the advice of Robert Bruce.

  He adopted similar tactics to those used by William Wallace at Stirling Bridge. He waited until the English started to cross the Estuary at low tide and, once most of their archers were on the west bank, he attacked. The unsupported archers suffered heavy casualties until the king and the Earl of Surrey led their knights across the ford and into the fight. The rest of the English army were still marching towards the Cree but the charge of five hundred knights scattered the Scots and they fled. Few Scots were killed in the skirmish, but Sir Robert Keith’s horse was killed under him and he was captured.

  As autumn started Edward’s infantry started to desert, going home to get in the crops was the usual reason but most could see that the campaign was achieving little. Then his nobles started to urge him to agree a truce over the winter. Eventually the king had to agree.

  ‘Robert, there is a messenger here from Longshanks,’ Neil said, ushering the man into the great hall. Robert gave the letter to Edward to read.

  ‘Well,’ he demanded impatiently, ‘what does it say?’

  Edward waited until the messenger had gone and then turned to Robert.

  ‘He is suggesting a truce until Whitsun next year.’

  Thomas and Neil looked relieved but Robert looked pensive.

  ‘That’s good news, isn’t it?’ Thomas asked, puzzled by Robert’s reaction.

  ‘Not necessarily. Oh, it means that we don’t have to worry about any invasion of our lands this year but it’s getting late in the year for that anyway and Edward’s army is shrinking. Any more desertions and we would have a good chance of defeating him. Next year he will be back with a bigger army and several months to reduce Annandale, Galloway and Carrick. We have to find other ways of fighting him.’

  ~#~

  For once Comyn and Bruce were in agreement and Bishop Lamberton and William Wallace were dispatched together as an embassy to the Pope. By the end of the year Pope Boniface had agreed to issue a Papal Bull declaring Scotland a sovereign nation, subject only to the authority of the Pope.

  The Bull was sent to the Archbishop of Canterbury and he set out to find his king in the middle of winter. Instead of accepting the Bull, Edward dispatched the Earl of Lincoln and Hugh Despenser, Earl of Winchester and one of Edward’s closest advisers, to Rome to present his counter arguments to Pope Boniface. They returned in early spring but there was no response from the Pope before the truce ran out on Whit Sunday 1301.

  Chapter Ten – The Hammer of the Scots – 1301 to 1305

  ‘What are your plans for bringing the ruffians to heel, father?’ the seventeen year old Prince of Wales asked in a voice that was at the same time cultured and sensual.

  Edward Longshanks looked at his eldest son with distaste. Prince Edward couldn’t have been more unlike his sire. The king had a strong character but he was temperamental, and this, coupled with his height, made him an intimidating man. He was determined, an able soldier, a good administrator and a devout Christian. He had his failings and these included intolerance and an expectation of loyalty from his nobles with little effort on his part to earn it.

  On the other hand the younger Edward was lazy and incompetent. He often accepted advice without evaluating it and was indecisive when it came to major issues, sometimes delegating important decisions to his favourites because he didn’t know what to do. There were some similarities with his father though. He was tall, handsome and athletic and he had a short fuse, often losing his temper over unimportant matters. If his father had managed to restore the authority of the monarchy after the reign of Henry III, his son looked incapable of maintaining it after his father was gone.

  ‘My plans, Edward? Well what do you think I should do? Let’s hear your thinking. After all I’m in my sixties now and so it won’t be that long before you’re king in my place.’

  He couldn’t help thinking what a shame it was that Edward’s elder brother had died before him. Alphonso had only been eleven but he had begun showing all the qualities that the younger Edward so patently lacked. Still, he comforted himself with the thought that he might yet outlive his heir. Either of Edward’s two younger half-brothers would probably make a better king than he would.

  ‘You’re asking for my ideas, father? You’ve never done that before.’

  ‘No, and I probably won’t give them much credence this time. I just want to see if you have any.’

  ‘Well, another victory like Falkirk should do the trick.’

  The king sighed. ‘But they won’t stand still and fight a proper battle. Fighting them is like the death of a thousand cuts. They chip away at us, taking a castle here, capturing a supply convey there, winning the odd petty skirmish. It’s like trying to fight a swarm of those wretched midges that so torment us up there.’

  ‘Then we need to do what your grandfather did during the war against his barons and burn and pillage our way around the country, turning the place into a wasteland. Once the majority are killed or have starved to death the rest will submit.’

  ‘If I’d wanted to rule a desert I would have stayed in the Holy Land. No, I’ll tell you what we are going to do. I’m going to advance up the east coast with one army whilst you advance up the west side of Scotland. Don’t worry, I’ll give you the Earl of Lincoln to hold your hand and ensure that you don’t make a complete cow’s arse of it. We’re not coming back to England in the autumn either. We’ll spend the winter in Scotland and continue the campaign in Spring next year. Won’t that be fun? I can see that you are looking forward to it already,’ he said sarcastically.

  ‘You’re giving me my own army?’ His son could hardly believe it. He immediately saw himself winning battles and capturing castles so that his father would be proud of him.

  ‘Yes, you’ll be in command, nominally of course. You are to leave the important decisions to the Earl of Lincoln though.’

  ‘Oh.’ For a moment the boy was downcast but then he realised that the glory would be his and Henry de Lacy, would do all the work. It wasn’t such a bad idea. Henry was one of Edward’s closest military advisers and had been awarded the Barony of Denbigh to add to his Earldom of Lincoln for his help in defeating the Welsh.

  ‘I want you to start by subduing Nithsdale and then take Turnberry Castle from that traitor, Robert Bruce, before securing Ayr and starting work on repairing the castle. Are you clear?’

  ‘Yes father. What will you be doing?’

  ‘Oh, I’ll be reconquering the rest of Southern Scotland so we can tackle the North East next year. Those Scots are going to really regret resisting my rule.’

  ~#~

  William Wallace and the Bishop of Dunkeld knelt before the Papal throne and then kissed the Pope’s ring. They were well aware that both Edward of England and the Guardians were awaiting his decision over the independence of Scotland but that was not why they had sought an audience.

  ‘Your Holiness,’ the bishop began, ‘in the treaty agreed between the Kings of England and France three years ago our king, John Balliol, was to be released into the custody of Philip of France so that he could enjoy the rest of his days on his estates in Picardy. Yet both he and his son, Edward Balliol, were handed over to your custody instead and now reside as virtual prisoners in an abbey. We come to petition you for their release into the care of King Philip.’

  The bishop breathed deeply, relieved at conveying the message from John Comyn and Bishop Lamberton without stumbling. He waited, shifting from knee to knee to relieve the cramp in his legs, for several minutes before the Pope allowed them to rise from the kneeling position on th
e cold marble floor. Wallace, kneeling beside him, had displayed no such signs of discomfort.

  ‘You may stand my sons.’ Pope smiled maliciously as the portly bishop had to be helped up by the giant accompanying him.

  ‘What guarantees do I have that, if I release Balliol to Philip of France’s supervision, that he won’t send him back to Scotland so he can stir the hornet’s nest up again?’

  Wallace glanced uneasily at the bishop. Their mission was to return via Paris and plead with Philip to do exactly that.

  ‘We are only seeking to execute the terms of the treaty, your Holiness. We have no control over what the King of France does or doesn’t do. In any case, our intelligence is that Edward Longshanks and that vain son of his are planning a major invasion of our country in May.’

  The Pope looked at him sharply. ‘You seem to forget, Sir William, that it is for me to decide whether Scotland is a country or merely a region of England.’

  ‘A region of England…’ Wallace went red in the face before he managed to regain control of himself. What did this fat priest know of the proud history of the nation he had devoted his life to freeing. ‘You Holiness even the Romans didn’t manage to incorporate Caledonia, as they called Scotland, into their empire when they conquered Britannia. William the Conqueror stopped when he got to the Tweed and was content to recognise Scotland as a separate kingdom.’

  That wasn’t entirely true as William had burned Berwick upon Tweed, which had had more than its fair share of sackings throughout the centuries, before raiding into Lothian. However it was true that he had always treated Scotland as an independent kingdom.

  ‘Yes, yes, I’ve heard all this before, including the submission of King William the Lion as a vassal of Henry the Second of England.’

  ‘But that was overturned when Henry’s son, King Richard, nullified the Treaty of Falaise.’

  ‘I thought you hadn’t come here to raise the question of Scotland’s independence but to beg me to release the Balliols to the King of France?’

  Both the Bishop of Dunkeld and William Wallace could see that arguing with the Pope over Scotland’s status was proving counterproductive.

  ‘We humbly beg your Holiness’s pardon,’ the bishop grovelled. ‘That matter can indeed wait for another day. We crave your indulgence and beg you to consider only the matter of John Balliol and his son.’

  ‘Very well. You are quite correct about the terms of the treaty and I have decided to release them into French custody, but on the clear understanding that neither of them are ever to leave France. Any violation of that term will result in excommunication of all involved. If either of them returns to Scotland then I will place it under interdict.’

  Wallace took some comfort from the fact that Pope Boniface didn’t look at all well. With any luck he might die soon, he thought uncharitably, and then the threat of excommunication would be meaningless. For his part the Pope was always at loggerheads with King Philip over their respective

  rights and powers. Boniface held that kings were under the spiritual and temporal control of the Pope whilst Philip claimed that they were totally independent; furthermore he held that the French clergy were subject to his laws and could be tried and taxed by him. His lack of influence over Philip was one of the reasons that he was reluctant to release John Balliol to him.

  However, if he demurred then Philip was quite capable of marching into the abbey where Balliol and his son were being held and taking them anyway. Eventually the Pope nodded and gave the necessary orders for their release.

  When Wallace and the bishop reached Paris there was a long delay before they were granted an audience with King Philip. Whilst the latter seem pleased to have been given John and Edward Balliol into his charge he was not minded to let them return to Scotland. It was plain that he regarded the former King of Scots as no more than a pawn in the game of political chess that he was playing with Edward of England.

  Wallace and the Bishop of Dunkeld returned to Scotland having only partially succeeded in their mission.

  ~#~

  ‘You are aware, I suppose, what Wallace has been up to on the Continent?’ Edward Bruce asked his brother. They were in the solar in the manor house at Inverurie in the Garioch, a part of Aberdeenshire that belonged to the Earldom of Carrick.

  ‘If you mean do I know that Wallace has negotiated John and Edward Balliol’s release to Philip of France and is now trying to get Philip to send him back to Scotland as king, then yes. I’m not naïve, Edward. I have my own agents in Paris and, from what they tell me, Philip has no intention of letting Balliol return here. Stop fretting. More to the point, my two fellow Guardians seem to have operated without my agreement or even knowledge. That they have acted in my name to try and bring Balliol back to the throne is unforgivable.’

  ‘What will you do?’

  ‘I have no choice. I want you to write to both of them, with a copy to James Stewart as High Steward, to announce my resignation as Guardian.’

  ‘But that will hand power back to the Comyns.’

  ‘Not for long. We can’t stop Edward Longshanks this time and so I may need to grovel before him to keep our lands. The fact that I have resigned as Guardian will help my case.’

  ‘You’d change sides and pledge fealty to Longshanks again?’ Edward couldn’t believe it.

  ‘Just so long as our father is alive I have to do what’s best for the family.’

  ‘What do you mean, Robert?’

  ‘Scotland will only gain its independence once it has strong leader who can impose his will on the nobles.’

  ‘You mean a king?’

  ‘Yes, and a proper one who will expel the English once and for all, not a puppet like Balliol.’

  ‘You mean you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ~#~

  Prince Edward was feeling pretty pleased with himself. He had ravaged Nithsdale having accepted the surrender of Lochmaben Castle on the way. The garrison were under instructions from Robert Bruce to surrender if attacked as he didn’t want it damaged. Now the Prince of Wales sat before Turnberry watching as the constable walked towards him with the symbolic keys of the castle. The man knelt and his squire took the keys and handed then to Edward.

  ‘Where is your perfidious master? Too proud to come out and surrender the castle himself?’

  ‘He’s not here, lord prince.’

  ‘Oh? Where is he then?’

  ‘I don’t know, my lord.’

  ‘I’ve a Gascon with me who’ll soon loosen your tongue.’

  The man was horrified. ‘You promised me and my men safe conduct if we surrendered, my lord.’

  ‘Oh, you should never trust the word of princes. Don’t you know that? Your men can go but I want to know where the Bruce is.’

  ‘Be foresworn then, you’ll not get a word out of me.’

  ‘How noble!’ Edward sneered. He was just about to send for his Gascon torturer when Henry, Earl of Lincoln rode up.

  ‘What are you doing, Edward?’ he demanded.

  ‘You’ll call me my lord or my lord prince, de Lacey, you hear me!’

  The earl sighed at the boy’s petulant tone. ‘What are you doing, my lord.’

  ‘Getting this man to tell me where the traitor Bruce is.’

  ‘I know where he is, he’s in the Garioch near Aberdeen. Now let the constable go so he can lead his men out of here and we can secure the castle.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me you knew where Bruce was,’ Edward shouted at him peevishly.

  ‘Because it’s got nothing to do with your father’s orders to me; I mean us. Now let’s get on with it.’

  Four days later the Prince and his men entered the town of Ayr and surveyed the blackened ruins of the castle. Leaving a garrison pitching their tents inside the ruins and a guard force to protect the masons and labourers, he left as soon as the rebuilding work had started and headed for Loch Ryan and the port of Stranraer at the western end of Galloway. Prince Edward hadn’t bothered much
about supplies up to this point as this was a prosperous and unravished part of Scotland. He depended on foraging and Henry de Lacey had supported this policy but at Loch Ryan they ran into trouble.

  Malcolm Cowan was the leader of William Wallace’s band of fighters whilst he was away on the Continent and he had been shadowing the prince’s army for several days. Now he watched as a party of foragers a hundred strong set off to look for livestock and grain stores. The group was partly mounted and partly on foot and was accompanied by several carts so it moved slowly. Having ascertained that they were heading for the Luce valley he led his six hundred men, all mounted on garrons, the surefooted borders’ ponies, to lay an ambush.

  They waited just over the crest of the low hills bordering the Water of Luce as it flowed down the centre of the valley. There was a track of sorts beside the river and the foraging party were spread out along it for over a quarter of a mile when the Scots rode down both sides of the valley to attack. The foraging party were caught totally unprepared. Malcolm Cowan was wielding a flail, a weapon with three spiked balls on short chains at the end. He brought this down on a knight who was trying to turn his courser to face him. The three balls of the flail struck his helmet, shoulder and chest. The helmet was dented and the spiked balls pierced the chainmail armour as if it was paper, breaking the man’s shoulder and three of his ribs. He fell to the ground unconscious and, as one crushed rib had pierced a lung, eventually died.

  Malcolm rode on bringing the wicked weapon down on a man-at-arms who was trying to hack him off his garron with his sword. One of the chains wrapped itself around the sword, wrenching it from the unfortunate man’s hand and the two remaining balls stove in either side of his helmet, crushing his brain so that he died instantly. He shook the flail to free it of the sword and then brought it swinging round so that the spikes on three balls embedded themselves in the back of a crossbowman who was about to release a quarrel at one of Malcolm’s men. He arched his back, his spine shattered, and he dropped his weapon.