Nigel Tranter - The Price of the King's Peace

They will, and must, treat this as fullest war. To the death. They will now muster all their power, to keep Ireland. And because this new king is my brother, with Scots troops aiding him, they will conceive me as behind him. And refuse to make any peace treaty.

With this one stroke Edward has destroyed all we have worked for, since Bannockburn.”

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.”