Nigel Tranter - The Price of the King's Peace

“Is it to take these lands back from us, to give to highly-placed traitors who now surround Your Grace’s throne?” Brechin shouted.

Uproar shook the abbey refectory.

Bruce, who preferred as far as possible to leave the conduct of such

meetings to the officers concerned, and not to interfere, nevertheless raised his hand towards the Chancellor.

“Since you have addressed me, Nephew, with my lord Chancellor’s acceptance I shall answer you,” he said calmly-however inwardly he raged.

“This assize into title is necessary, for the common weal of this my kingdom. The holding of much land is in dispute, claimed by more than one liege or vassal, fought over, to the disturbance of my peace. Marches between lands and estates are often undefined. Tenants know not to whom to pay their rents.

Some are paying twice over, threatened by these same swords you shamefully brandished! My subjects, whom I, the King, am sworn to protect. As I shall. Loyal barons of mine are at each other’s throats over handfuls of acres of ground, brave fighters acting like hucksters! To the troubling and weakening of this realm, and the harassing of my judges. This must not continue. The purpose of this Convention is not to take land from any. That will be for parliament to decide, if it is necessary. It is but to establish who can show best right and title to what. I will not have my lieges snarling over my land like curs over a bone!” He paused, gazing round him sternly.

“Nor will I hear talk of traitors in my royal presence-for past trespasses which I, in parliament, have forgiven and wiped clean. Understand it-or bear my most sore displeasure.”

There was a long silence. Even though the King had not raised his voice, and spoken almost conversationally, none there failed to recognise the steely grip on the royal temper, and what it could mean should that grip weaken. As Robert Bruce grew older, his anger was demonstrated less and less; but it was sensed the more alarmingly beneath his self-imposed restraint. And was the more terrifying. These were brave men, fighters who had spoken; but they would have been foolhardy so indeed had they pressed their case further, there and then.

“So be it,” Bruce nodded, sitting back.

“Sir Gilbert-overlook the drawn swords this once, if you please. Let all proceed in order.

My lord Chancellor-continue.”

Moistening his lips, Abbot Bernard went on to outline the procedure whereby every landholder would present himself, in due order, before the earl and sheriff of whatever earldom and county his lands were situate, with his proofs; and all who might dispute such claims should likewise so present themselves. All in different chambers of the abbey. Clerks would take due and proper note of all. Where dispute still prevailed, and the claimants could not accept the earl’s or sheriffs ruling, appeal could be made to judges appointed by the crown. And in final instance, if such was necessary, to the King himself. Such decisions and judgements to be laid before a parliament to be called for later in the year, at Scone, where was the Moot-hill of the Scots realm, traditional scene of landed exchange, tenure and grant age This by order of the King’s Grace.

This businesslike statement had the effect, as intended, of calming tempers and damping down histrionics. There would undoubtedly be much debate and many hot words in the various abbey apartments thereafter; but meantime, and in the presence of the monarch, order prevailed.

As de Linton, finished, looked towards the throne, Bruce raised his hand again, to still the murmur of talk.

“My lords, my friends, my comrades all,” he said, in a different

tone.

“Before you disperse about this business, there is another matter which requires your attention. A matter of great import. As all know, our neighbours of England, whom we have given cause to heed our love of liberty and freedom, have turned in their extremity to the Pope for aid in their assault on our realm. Unfortunately His Holiness, insufficiently informed as to our history, our ancient kingdom and our independence, has believed the lies told him by King Edward, and …”

His voice was drowned in the growl of men, a menacing sound.

“Hear me, my friends. His Holiness, I say, believing these things against us, has pronounced his anathema against us, as a people and nation. I say, hear me! Your turn comes. While my lord Bishop of St. Andrews makes due and proper enquiry as to the present Pope’s appointment and authority, it is nevertheless necessary that he should be fully informed of the truth as to Scotland’s state.

Therefore the Chancellor has drawn up a letter, a declaration, to send

to His Holiness. It is long, but resounding. And I, and the Primate,

have heard and agree every word. Now it is for you to hear it. And,

if you agree, to append your names and seals. All of you. For this

letter is from you, the temporality of this kingdom, to inform the Pope

of who you are and what you are, and who you have freely chosen as your

king. But, above all, what you will pay for liberty, freedom, the

freedom to live your lives according to your own land’s laws and

customs, and to choose your own rule and governance…”

The crash of acclaim and applause and feet-stamping shook the abbey, and continued.

Bruce gave them their head. “My friends,” he went on, at length,

smiling a little, “I perceive our temper agrees. We demand to be allowed to belabour each other-but woe to him who seeks to belabour us from outside the realm! This we have sufficiently demonstrated. Now it is your turn to enlighten, to declare. My lord Chancellor will read out this letter. Heed it well. Each word has been well chosen. It is my hope but not my command-never my command-that all here will subscribe to it. That it may go as a united declaration from this Scottish nation, since you, in your persons, represent all the people of the kingdom. But if you wish not to subscribe, to lend your names to it, you must not do so. If our vaunted freedom means anything, then each is free not to agree. No steps will be taken against any who abstain. This on my royal word. My lord Chancellor-pray read your letter.”

Never, undoubtedly, had so many hardened warriors and men of action listened to so long a composition and with such close attention.

But after a few snarls at kissing the Pope’s feet and suchlike, there was a notable and complete silence. That is, until the item about expelling even the King himself, should he fail to uphold Scotland’s liberty, was reached, when there was a considerable commotion, exchange of comment, staring at the throne, and nodding of solemn heads; and when that dealing with their willingness to die for freedom came up, and the refectory throbbed with vehement chorused assent. The final indictment of the Pope himself, should he ignore all this, raised not a few eyebrows, but the majority swallowed it without objection, some with glee. At the end, a positive storm of affirmation broke out, and maintained. For a non-letter-writing and not very literate company, the enthusiasm for this lengthy epistle was extraordinary.

Exchanging glances with Lamberton, Bruce at last raised hand.

“Who, then, will lend his name and seal to this letter?”

A forest of hands shot up, many with fists clenched, and a roar of “I will! I will!” resounded.

“Those of contrary mind, to declare it.”

No single arm or voice was lifted.

“It is well. Very well. The clerks will take names, and instruct in the business of sealing. Two copies. To work, my friends. This convention stands adjourned …”

Chapter Nineteen

Egged on by Elizabeth, the King was planning both a new house and a ship. He was less than keen on either, to tell the truth, but the Queen was urgent and persuasive. She was anxious to have his mind occupied with forward-looking projects, plans assuming that there were many long years of active life ahead of him yet. For the fact was that, when the pressures of national emergency and immediate crisis of one sort or another lessened, as now, and Bruce had time to brood, his attitude to the future tended to become dark and cloudy. Indeed, whether it was the need for action which kept his recurrent sickness at bay, or the lack of it which made of his mental state more apt breeding-ground for the distemper of body, such times as he was not occupied with vigorous activities and urgent demands on his attention, his illness regularly grew worse.