Nigel Tranter - The Price of the King's Peace

Or nearly all. The young Earl of Menteith looked glum, as did his

uncle, Sir John Stewart The Earl of Strathearn, though not quite so

young, was unmarried and had had his eye on Marjory likewise; he did

not look overjoyed. Nor, for that matter, did the Earl of Carrick

himself. But such doubtful looks were confined to the earls’

benches.

At the King’s signal, Walter Stewart rose in his seat amongst the great officers of state, and bowed modestly, flushing a little. It was a notable moment for the House of Stewart.

Eyes rose to search the minstrels’ gallery, on this occasion reserved for a few privileged lady spectators, in case the bride-to-be had slipped in to join her stepmother and aunts, there from the beginning. Such searchers were disappointed.

“What have you for us further, my lord Chancellor?” Bruce asked.

“Certain forfeitures, grants and appointments, Your Grace …”

The drama was over for the day-and men were only anxious to escape from the over-warm hall to discuss it all. The remainder of the programme was rattled through in record time.

After his formal retiral, the King summoned his brother to a small private room of the castle. There they faced each other alone.

“Edward,” Bruce said shortly, “You will now give me such explanation as you may.”

“Is any required?” the other demanded, equally brief.

“I would have thought the matter sufficiently clear.”

“I had hoped, for your sake, that there might be some reason, something I knew not of. To excuse you a little.”

“I do not look for excuses,” Edward returned.

“You should know me better.”

“I it was who sought excuses for you. For my brother.”

“Then spare yourself, my good Robert! And me. I did what I did because it was the only way to force your agreement. To the Irish project. You would not have it, otherwise. I knew it to be the right course. To bring the English to heel. But you would have none of it. So I forced your hand. You will thank me, one day!”

“I do not thank you now. Think you I have not considered this Irish matter as deeply as you have done? And decided against it, with good reason. It is too dangerous. Its success depends on others than ourselves. There lies the greatest danger. That, and maintaining supplies by sea. Remember it. But you have, as you intended, forced my hand. You have set up your judgement against mine, and acted in secret to enforce it, to constrain me. That is neither the action of a brother, nor yet of a loyal subject.”

”Of a mercy, Robert-forget that you are a king, for a moment!Remember that you are just your father’s son, as am I -save that you happened to be born first! And he was a fool! We are not playacting now, before your parliament or Court. Have I not as much right to do as I believe to be right, as have you?”

“I would remind you, brother, that you took your oath of fealty to me, as your liege lord.”

The other snorted.

“I did as much to Edward Plantagenet, once!

As did you!”

“So! Loyalty means nothing to you? As brother or subject!”

“It means that I shall serve you, and the realm, to the best of my ability and my wits. As I have done. My ability. And my wits. And, for a while, in Ireland!”

“I see. So now we have it. I marvel that you dare to speak so. To me. Even you, Edward. When I could have you silenced so easily.

Clapped in the pit of this castle, to wait until you learned your

duty.”

“Could-but will not. Will not, Robert! I know you too well.

To do that you would require to be a different man from what you are. And a fool, into the bargain-which you are not. For many think more of me than you do!”

“I will not, no. You are right in that. I will let you go to

But… I will never trust you again, Edward. Remember it.”

“Have you trusted me, for long? Setting your tame watchdogs on me Thomas Randolph and the Douglas! Always watching me, holding me back. You have never trusted me, Robert.”

“I have ever known you headstrong. Rash. And taken pre cautious. That is all. As was my duty.”

“Duty …!”

“Edward-God help Scotland when you are King!”

Laughing suddenly, cheerfully, uninhibitedly, the other clapped his elder brother on the shoulder.

“At least I will be a less solemn and sober monarch, man! You will see.” And still laughing, he flung out of the little room.

Frowning perplexedly, Bruce stared after him.

Chapter Six

It was two months to the day later, and Ayr was the scene of a very different activity, the bustling excitement and noise of an army in embarkation. The entire town was like a disturbed ant-hill of armed men. But like the ant-hill, there was method, order, in the seething and at first glance aimless commotion. Angus Og MacDonald and his captains and clansmen were getting used to embarking armies.

His great galley fleet, one of the most significant weapons in Brace’s armoury, however independent its, master claimed to be, covered not only all the harbour and jetty area but also the sand and shingle beaches for half a mile-for galleys were constructed for drawing up on the open strands of their home islands and sea lochs. In their scores they lay, long lean greyhounds of the sea, high-pr owed and high-pooped, low-wasted, banking twenty, forty, sixty oars, single masts with their great angled booms rising like a forest. These were the swiftest, most savage and dangerous ships in the world-and amongst the most comfortless to sail in.

So Edward Brace’s 6,000 had found, nearly a month before, when they had been ferried across the Irish Sea, from Ayr to Lame, in Ulster, in unseasonable weather, with MacDougall of Lorn’s craft lurking hull-down to the north, afraid to attack while the Lord of the Isles was there in force. Angus had seen the invaders safely landed and consolidated, indeed win their first small battle against only moderate opposition at Carrickfergus, and then had returned here to Ayr, on the King’s business.

The royal army now assembling, despite all the activity, was in fact a modest one, by kingly standards, although handpicked.

Most of the host for the Highland expedition had been gone for two weeks, horsed, by land, around the innumerable sea-lochs and estuaries between the Lowlands and Argyll. Bruce was transporting a bare 1,000 men by sea, and with a special objective.

There had been a great splitting up of forces and captains. As well as Moray, Brace had sent Sir Robert Boyd, Sir William de Soulis, Sir Hugh Ross, Sir Philip Moubray and others, to back up Randolph as much as to support his brother. At home the Earl of Lennox, Neil Campbell and Alexander Fraser were commanding the main host marching north-west. James Douglas, Keith the Marischal, Robert Fleming and young Scrymgeour were to keep up a series of hit-and-run raids into England, and to collect the mail, or protection money therefrom, which had become an ever more important item of the Scots revenues. William Lamberton and Abbot Bernard would see to the rule and governance of the realm in the interim. While Bruce took his new son-in-law and Gilbert Hay with him in the galleys.

averse, however, to this interruption of the honeymoon period;

indeed, his father-in-law feared that he had been positively

relieved.

The bride showed no signs of distress, either.

They sailed on Midsummer’s Day, a stirring sight, the Queen and her ladies waving them off in fine style, into the west. The King did not go in Angus Og’s galley, as was usual, but in a command craft of his own. His thousand men were not evenly disposed over the fleet, but concentrated less than comfortably in a mere dozen vessels.

There was grumbling amongst the men at this overcrowding;

even some recognition of danger, when the fleet should reach the open sea and the notorious hazards of rounding the Mull of Kintyre.