Nigel Tranter - The Price of the King's Peace

“If this is of no credit to the English, nor is it of any benefit to

us,” he declared.

“It but creates confusion, and distracts King Edward from the true issue-coming to terms with His Grace. He did go so far as to agree to talk with us. At York. On the subject of a peace. His Grace sent four commissioners, myself honoured to be one. We went to York, to treat with the English commissioners. And did so treat. For weeks. With little result. The English would not concede our terms. Even the most modest.”

“How modest, my lord Bishop, were your terms?” the Earl of Dunbar and March asked, not aggressively but not diffidently either. Obviously he was going to be no cypher in the realm’s affairs.

“Questions may be asked only through myself, my lord,” Abbot Bernard

reminded, but not objection ably

“Entirely modest,” Lamberton answered.

“We demanded the recognition of this realm of Scotland as the independent kingdom which it always was; and that our Lord Robert was our lawful and rightful king. And, secondly, that the English troops be withdrawn from Berwickon-Tweed, the only Scots fortress they still hold.

This, and assurances of no further interference in the affairs of our

realm Sundry other small matters, but these were the main

requirements.

None can say that they are not modest. We could demand nothing less. Yet it is these that King Edward will not accept. The independence of Scotland, and the suzerainty of King Robert. He still claims to be Lord Paramount of Scotland, as did his father. Despite all. Despite defeat, raids, and His Grace’s homage-taking in Tynedale.”

“Then we must teach him otherwise!” Edward Bruce cried.

“I

have said all along that we were too gentle, too soft. The English understand only one argument-force. Naked steel. Show them that, and they will bargain. If I had but been allowed to drive on to London, last June …!”

There was a growl of approval from many throats.

“My lord Bishop-have you finished?” the Chancellor asked.

Lamberton nodded.

“Save only to say that though we talked for weeks, we could move them nothing, in this. King Robert is a rebel, they said. The English have an arrogant assumption of authority that is beyond all debate. I do believe that they conceive it God given! Certain subjects are not for discussion. One is that the Scott are an inferior people. As are the Welsh and the Irish. They cannot be other than subject. Possibly the French also. Save that there are more Frenchmen!” That the stern and statesmanlike Lamberton spoke so, was eloquent testimony of his frustration and helplessness.

Sir Neil Campbell, who with the Earl of Lennox and Bishop Balmyle of Dunblane had been Lamberton’s fellow-commissioners, stood up.

“My lord Chancellor,” he said, “it is my belief that we but waste our time seeking this treaty of peace. The English have no intention of making such. And even if they signed some form of words, it would not be worth the paper on which it was written.

They lick their wounds, yes-but only that they may be able to strike back. It is not peace they seek. One of their lords, at York, told me that, now that the former King John Baliol is dead, in France, King Edward is cherishing his son. In London. The English king, who hated the father, has taken the son into his personal care. For what purpose, think you?”

Bruce was struck anew by the sad change in his old friend and companion-in-arms-who was now his brother-in-law, having recently married the Princess Mary. Campbell, although still on the right side of forty, had grown thin and hollow-cheeked of late, a man fading before their eyes. Wags put it down to marriage with the over-sexed Mary-but Bruce knew that it had started even before Bannockburn. One of his original band, the King grieved for him sorely; also for his sister, who had surely suffered enough.

Lennox spoke up, amidst the exclamations at this revelation.

“My good friend, the Lord of Lochawe, takes too gloomy a view. I say. This of Edward Baliol could be only a bargaining gesture. To win better terms by the threat. Such as we ourselves make, with the raids and the Tynedale progress. The English are sore troubled.

They have lost much faith in themselves. All that has been done-the

expedition of my lord of Carrick, the raids on their coasts of my lords

of Ross and of the Isles, Your Grace’s move in Tynedale—all this has

indeed struck them hard. They are, perhaps, nearer to yielding than we

think. Pembroke himself confided to me, at York, that King Edward

scarce knew where to turn, he has so many problems. And he is

unpopular with his people. He is blamed for the defeat at Bannockburn

* although I think the fault was more Hereford’s and Pembroke’s own. I say, let us have patience. Keep up our present tactics. King Edward may be nearer breaking than we know.”

“Patience!” Edward Bruce burst out, from almost the next seat on the earls’ benches.

“There speaks folly! Patience! Do nothing!

And give the English time to recover. That way, we will have to fight another Bannockburn before long. By being patient! Campbell, for once, was right!” These two had never been friends.

“Patience is no way to deal with the English. Only force do they heed.

The harder you strike them, the more ready they are to talk.

So, I say, let us strike them hard. And where they are weakest. In

That gained a mixed reception, cheers and objections, both. The King frowned.

“Ireland is where we can do most damage with fewest men,” his brother went on.

“The Irish chiefs are ready to revolt. They have gallowglasses by the thousand. Properly captained, and with an armoured host of chivalry to lead them, they could drive the English out of Ireland in weeks. Then astride the Irish south, we threaten the English south. Across their channel. The Welsh, too, would rise at that stage. They love the English no more than we, or the Irish do! Give me a few thousand men, and I will win Ireland for you!” Edward looked directly at his brother now.

All others, the Chancellor included, perforce did likewise.

The King took his time. This was serious, he recognised. Edward had

long cherished the notion of invading Ireland. But to raise it, like

this, in parliament, where he could demand a vote-and quite possibly

command a majority from frustrated members-put the project into a

different category. He knew that he, Robert Bruce,was against it;

therefore Edward must be fairly sure of himself, sure of large support “My lord of Carrick’s proposal is not new,” he said.

“It has been discussed many times. And always the decision has been against it Because it must amount to a major campaign of war. It cannot be otherwise. And we have had more than sufficient of war. It is peace Scotland needs now, not more war.”

“The King says that we need peace,” Edward took him up promptly.

“But my lord Bishop, and these others, tell us that the English will not make peace. Not yet. We must force them to it We can do that only by making them choose peace rather than war. I would say that, while they are in defeat, at odds with each other, licking their wounds as the Campbell says, we should invade them. Invade England with all our power. Not just raids. I say that we could be hammering at the gates of London within a month!

And then they would be praying on their knees for peace-their bended knees! But, if that is too great a venture for those of you who are so weary of warfare-then, I declare to you, this Irish venture should commend itself. My royal brother says that it would be a major campaign of war. Yes-but not for the Scots. Only for the Irish. All I need is a spearhead. A small force, to give them a lead. Five or six thousand men. Of these, I will take 3,000 of my own. From my Lordship of Galloway and earldom of Carrick. So I ask this parliament for a mere 2,000. To purchase an English peace for you. And, moreover, to make an ally of Ireland instead of an English province.”