Nigel Tranter - The Price of the King's Peace

But he pulled himself together, as he must ever do, and put on the stern calm face of the monarch.

“I am sorry, my friend,” he said.

“Beyond telling. Sorry for you and for my sister. Especially for her, who has suffered too much already. Some, it seems, are fated to suffer more than their share in this life. In the next, it may be, they wall have their recompense. As for you, you are your father’s son. And he ever lived with death, as any knight of mine must. Duly ready to entertain him. Neil Campbell was a noble knight, and many times held my life in his strong hands. Not for you to grieve him. Only to emulate.”

“That is my humble prayer, Highness. That I may serve you as he did.

To that end I would come with you on this sally to Ireland.

In whatever lowly office.”

“And so you shall. But in no lowly office, sir. You are a Highland chieftain now, head of a great clan. And an earl’s son, in all but the name. I had intended to belt your father Earl of Atholl, in room of my kinsman, David de Strathbogie, traitor. The good Neil is gone to higher honour than I might give him. But to provide for his wife and my sister, I shall appoint her Countess thereof, and endow her with the lands of the earldom. As for you, friend-kneel you!”

And drawing his sword, Bruce there and then knighted the surprised young man, tapping him on both shoulders with the flat of the great blade which had shed so much blood for Scotland.

“Arise, Sir Colin. Be thou a good and true knight until thy life’s

end!”

There was murmured acclaim, and appreciation of a right royal gesture.

But some undoubtedly perceived that it was also a shrewd move indeed,

binding one more great earldom closer to the crown, as the King had

done with Moray and Ross, and territorially isolating the hostile

earldoms of Angus and life by putting Atholl in the care of the

Campbells -but only in the care. The Lady Mary was known to be pregnant, and the earldom was for her, not for her stepson. Elizabeth at least recognised a king’s mind at work over a man’s heart.

They sailed later, on a calm grey day of leaden seas and chill airs. The galleys took most of the men, leaving the great fleet of assorted slower craft to transport the horses, stores, armour and fodder. It was not a long voyage, with the coasts of -Scotland and Ireland only some twenty-five miles apart at this point; but with Carrickfergus to reach, halfway up Belfast Lough, it would be more like a forty-mile sail from Loch Ryan. The Lord of the Isles had scouting galleys out, for there was always the possibility of attack by English ships, but so far there had been no alarms.

In one of Angus Og’s sixty-oar greyhounds, Bruce could have dashed

across the North Channel of the Irish Sea in three or four hours. But

he stayed with his heterogeneous armada, which was soon scattered far

and wide over the waters, with impatient scornful galleys circling and

herding slow craft, like sheep-dogs, in their efforts to maintain some

semblance of order, unity and a protective screen Fortunately no enemy

ships put in an appearance; but it was an uncomfortable interlude for the Scots leadership. And it was cold for everybody but the galley oarsmen.

Edward Bruce, who had an eye for appearances, had sent a squadron to meet them at the mouth of the Lough, under Donal O’Neil, King of Tyrone, no fewer than four of the vessels being packed with musicians and singers; so that the foremost Scots ships went heading up-lough thereafter to the sound of spirited Irish melodies-to the disgust of Angus Og, who considered this an insult and a travesty. Carrickfergus drew near, its lofty, high-set, English-built castle dominating the narrow streets of a walled seaport town.

But when Bruce landed, with the streets and alleys decked with bunting and evergreens, he discovered that little or no arrangements had been made for reception and dispositions of the Scots forces. A resounding committee of welcome was very flattering to himself, but no other provision seemed to have been made for the disembarkation and housing of 7,000 men and almost twice that number of horses. The town was already full to bursting point with the wild followers of Irish kinglets, chiefs and clerics, and the harbour and even the approaches thereto crammed with shipping.

Bruce’s veterans swore feelingly. Fortunately, as the King was refusing to proceed with the welcoming magnates up to the citadel for the official ceremonies, without first being assured of the proper reception of his army, a harassed Moray made an appearance, with the suggestion that the main mass of the Scots should not disembark here at all, but sail up the lough a further four miles or so, to a level area of meadow and greensward, at White Abbey, where there was space, water and wood for fuel.

Unceremoniously Bruce returned to his ship, leaving his high sounding escort standing at a loss, and sailed on, to see to the due installation of his troops in the spreading demesne of White Abbeymuch to the outrage of its Anglo-Irish abbot.

As a consequence, it was well after dark before the King came back to Carrickfergus, with his lieutenants, through the crazy confusion of shipping that packed the lough, to meet a much reduced and very agitated committee of magnificos, now including de Soulis the Butler. By them he was hastily conveyed, in torchlight procession, through the network of lanes and alleys where pigs, poultry and children got in the way, towards the great castle on its rocky terrace, which Edward was making his capital.

If that proud man was put out by the prolonged delay and implied rejection of his welcome, he did not permit it to divert him.

Everywhere around the castle torches turned night into day, bonfires

blazed and coloured lights flared. Every tower and turret was stance

for a beacon. Probably his display gained in impressiveness thereby,

even if choking smoke was the inevitable concomitant Music resounded,

by no means all of it harmon ising

The wide forecourt of the castle had been turned into a great

amphitheatre, lined by thousands, while in the centre, jugglers,

tumblers, bear-leaders and other entertainers performed by the light of the flames, all to the strains of pipers and minstrels and drummers. Through this the visitors were conducted in procession, O’Neil pointing out this and that. Across the drawbridge into the outer bailey, beyond the lofty curving curtain-walls, the scene was different. Here dancers in strange barbaric-seeming costumes paced and glided and circled to less lively melodies, while rank upon rank of personages stood, bowing low as the King’s party passed. A great many of these appeared to be clergy, for Carrickfergus was a great ecclesiastical centre. Beyond the gatehouse, the inner bailey, narrower, was full to overflowing with chieftains, seannachies, knights and captains, drawn up in groups according to their rank and status. Then up the keep steps, past the yawning guardroom vaults and dungeons, and up into the Great Hall, a dazzlement of light and colour, where scores of young women all in white gyrated and dipped and postured to the gentle strumming of harps, with great beauty and dignity.

“The daughters of kings,” O’Neil observed confidentially.

“A hundred virgins.”

Bruce doubted it, somehow. A lot of highly interested, roguish, not to say downright bold glances were emanating from the ladies;

and his brother was not the man to neglect his opportunities in that direction. But he nodded gravely.

At the far end of the huge hall was the dais platform, here occupying

almost a quarter of the total space. It was more crowded than the main

floor. Massed to the right were standing rows of mitred bishops and

abbots, with un mitred priors, deans, archdeacons and other prelates,