Nigel Tranter - The Price of the King's Peace

This was heady stuff, and for the victors of Bannockburn dangerously so. Bruce could sense how a large part of the assembly rose to it.

“Will my lord of Carrick tell us what makes him so sure that the Irish will rise in large numbers?” he asked, evenly.

“The English have a strong grip. The Anglo-Irish lords are powerful, and notable fighters. They have had to be! Witness my own good-father, the Earl of Ulster. They will not be so easily broken.”

“Ulster and many others are still in England. And the Irish chiefs will rise. O’Neill. O’Connor. O’Brien. Sorley McDonnell.

Young MacQuillan. MacSweeney. Forty thousand men are committed, for the start If we land before May is out Twice that within two weeks of landing.”

There was absolute silence in Ayr Castle hall now, at what Edward had said and what it implied. All eyes turned on the King, The knuckles gleamed whitely on Bruce’s clenched fists as he fought to control his hot temper. For long moments he did not risk words. When he did, they came jerkily, almost breathlessly.

“You … have done this! Written to them? These Irish chiefs.

Planned a campaign. With them. Gone so far. Won promise of support Numbers of men. Without … without my authority.

Without so much as informing me! The King!”

Even Edward Bruce was abashed in some measure by his brother’s obvious tight-chained fury. He spread his hands.

“Not so, sire. I but sounded them. Sought opinions as to the chances of success. Made inquiries, as would any prudent man. Before I raised the issue here …”

“Prudent man! By the living God …!” In his extremity, Bruce gripped the arms of his throne with a force almost enough to wrench them apart Somehow he managed to master himself.

“Continue, my lord.”

“Because there had been talk of this before. And no true decision.

I deemed it right to make such inquiries. To bring to this parliament So that you, and others, may judge aright. The worth of it. Surely that is no fault?”

“You named these chiefs as committed. To whom committed?”

His brother hesitated.

“To myself. At this present. But to Your Grace, as King, when the matter is settled and the invasion begins.”

“So! Meantime, they are committed to you, the Earl of Carrick!

But great chiefs such as these do not commit themselves and their thousands to war without prior commitment being made to them. For the matter to get thus far, you also must be committed. How far?” That was a bark.

“I … I have promised to go. With my own force. From Galloway and Carrick. Whatever you do. Before May is out” That admission came in a rush, but forcefully, defiantly, not conceding anything. And then, as the merest afterthought “With Your Grace’s permission.”

So it was out Plain to all men. The King’s brother, the second man in the kingdom, entering into secret warlike negotiations with the leaders of a neighbouring realm. It could be called lise majestie. Even high treason. Or just plain, insolent contempt of any authority other than his own.

Bruce’s every Impulse was to hit back, to assert his own overriding

authority, to show who was master in Scotland, brother or none. But

the long hard years of self-discipline, of taking the long view, of

thinking for the realm rather than for himself, triumphed, A public

break between himself and his brother could do untold damage especially if indeed many supported Edward’s project Moreover, this was a parliament, not a council, convened to hear the will of the community of the realm rather than that of the monarch. And there was the matter of the succession, which was due to come up hereafter, and which any drastic break with Edward would throw into confusion.

When Bruce spoke, he had himself in hand.

“It was not well done, my lord,” he said severely.

“The secrecy. This of committing yourself, without my knowledge and assent. For whatever reason.

This is the King’s business, and his only. But … since the policy

behind it affects the whole realm, I would hear the will of this

parliament How do you say, my lords?”

There was a long pause, with some shuffling of feet. Few there could fail to recognise the awkwardness of the situation; that an expression of approval for the Irish venture could be taken as a gesture against the monarch. Yet obviously, not a few were in fact in favour, even amongst the most loyal.

Well aware of their predicament, Bruce spoke again.

“My friends-in a parliament, all should speak their minds. Their true minds. For the weal of the realm. It is your duty to give me guidance.

Without fear or favour.”

Lamberton rose.

“I am against such adventure, Sire,” he said.

“Ireland could become a bleeding wound in Scotland’s side. As it has been in England’s. I say no.”

From the nods of the six other bishops present, it was clear that the Lords Spiritual as a body were the Primate.

Edward’s snort was eloquent of his contempt for all such.

“I also am against,” the Earl of Lennox said.

“As am I,” Patrick of Dunbar declared.

“The English hold on Ireland is stronger than my lord of Carrick deems it.”

“I believe it rash, to the point of foolhardiness,” Randolph, Earl of Moray, said.

“That you would!” Edward exclaimed.

“All of you!”

There was a shocked hush, at this discourtesy, and the King wondered whether his brother was going to destroy his own case.

Then, unexpectedly, and out of due order, Neil Campbell spoke although not so much out of order as it seemed perhaps, for Sir Neil was now the King’s kinsman by marriage, and moreover had been promised the earldom of Atholl, which was in process of forfeiture, David de Strathbogie being still sufficiently offended over his sister’s betrayal to remain in England and in enmity.

“I do not often agree with my lord of Carrick,” the Campbell

“But here I do. I believe invasion of Ireland will alarm the English more than anything else we may attempt, barring invasion of England itself. Possibly even more so. For the southern English care nothing for what goes on in their North, where we would be fighting. As we have seen. But many southern lords have great lands in Ireland. I say, let my lord of Carrick have his 2,000 men. It will not sorely hurt the realm. And may win us much.”

The elderly Earl of Ross, who had seemed to be asleep throughout, suddenly raised his nodding leonine head.

“I agree,” he said briefly, and let it sink again.

Thus encouraged, others spoke up.

“So I think,” Sir Alexander Fraser announced.

“As do I,” Sir Robert Fleming nodded.

“It can do no harm,” the Lord of Crawford said.

“So long as we keep it to small numbers.”

“I agree,” Malcolm MacGregor, chief of his name, gestured, with the dramatic nourish with which he did all things.

“And I,” the veteran Sir Robert Boyd of Noddsdale put in-and Bruce valued his decision more than most.

The King drew a hand over his mouth. These were the fighters, his late colleagues of desperate days, speaking now, men close to him by every bond men can forge between them, the loyal est of the loyal. Many of them, he knew, were no friends of Edward’s, however much they might admire him as a brave man and noted leader of light cavalry. Yet they were supporting this Irish venture.

Almost involuntarily he glanced across to where James Douglas and Gilbert Hay sat, on the benches of the great officers of state, Warden of the Marches and High Constable respectively. These two, closest of all…?

Jamie was looking unhappy. Seeing his friend and liege lord’s gaze, he rose.

“I… I say against,” he jerked, and sat down.

“I also,” Gibbie blurted, as briefly.

There were a few more, for and against, after that. But Bruce paid little attention now. He perceived how it was, and accepted that he must change his position. The discomfort on the faces of Douglas and Hay left him in no doubt. These two leal friends, whom he knew loved him beyond all telling, would not for anything on earth seem to take part against him; but he knew that were it not for that, they would have decided for the Irish project.