Nigel Tranter - The Price of the King's Peace

he greeted.

“How is your lady-mother, lad?”

“Well, Sire-and sends greetings. And hopes that Your Grace will honour her house at Newton hereafter. But, Sire-yourself?

You look but poorly. Thin. Is the sickness back again?”

Douglas coughed hurriedly.

Moray looked away.

“This will be my lord of Carlisle, I think, Your Grace,” he said.

“Ah, yes.” The King turned, smoothing the quick frown from his brow.

“My lord-your forgiveness that we are late. The snow blocked the pass by Beattock, and we must needs make circuit by Moffat. You would have little difficulty, coming up Annandale?”

“None, Sire. And I crave your royal pardon and patience in bringing you so far. But the matter is vital, and my position … difficult.”

Andrew Harcla was a short, stocky, powerfully-built man of early middle-age, plain, heavy-featured, jerky of manner and without obvious graces, not unlike one of his own Cumberland bulb.

But his small darting eyes were notably lively, and shrewd.

Bruce inclined his head.

“That I understand, my lord. I came, since it was the best soldier in England today who besought me.”

“I thank Your Majesty. More’s the pity, I think, that I need not to be very able, and yet that! For these are sorry days for England.”

“I

do not deny it. And what would you with the King of Scots?”

The Englishman looked at Bruce’s companions.

“Your Majesty will understand how delicate is my situation, how secret is my visit.

And how for your royal ear alone are my words.”

The King shook his head.

“My son, here, will leave us. But these-no. My nephew of Moray is now as my right hand in the governance of this my realm, since my lord Bishop of St. Andrews, to whom you sent your letter, is sore stricken, bed bound Anything that you have to say to me, he should hear. And my good friend Sir James of Douglas is Warden of the Marches. Any matter which concerns the Border-and surely this must-is within his bailie wick. These remain, sir.”

The other shrugged.

“As you will.” But he waited until the young man had left the

brewhouse before continuing.

“My head could fall, for what I say now, Sire. I beg you, and these, to mind it well.

It could be called treason. My very presence here. Yet I am no

traitor.”

“That we will judge when we hear you, my lord. Yet, it comes to my mind that you once betrayed the Earl of Lancaster!”

Harcla set a heavy jaw.

“I prefer that you use another word, Your Highness!” he said

thickly.

“Perhaps. Let it be. What is your urgent matter, then?”

The Englishman took a deep breath.

“This, Sire. Because of the follies, failures and this governance of King Edward and his friends the Despensers, England is in sore straits, and in a state of revolt.

Not yet open revolt, but near it. The country has never been so mismanaged and disgraced. Your own defeat of the King at Byland, and his shameful flight, has lost him all support. Especially in the North. The North, I say, has had enough of Edward of Carnarvon!”

“So! And you are King Edward’s commander in the North!”

“The better to know the temper there. The better to take steps to improve the position.”

“You take steps?”

“Yes, Sire. I, and those who think as I do. Which is the greater part

of the lords and barons of the North. We know well that Your Majesty

has long sought a peace treaty and recognition of your sovereignty and

independence. We would undertake to urge this course upon King Edward

by every means in our power-and such means are not little. And if he

will not listen, then to ally ourselves with Your Majesty against

him!”

Bruce stared at the man.

“Ally …! You?”

“Aye, Sire. I, and others. Many others.”

“You would turn your coats? Turn traitors. Against your own realm?”

“Not traitors. Not against our own realm. Only against Edward, who cannot and will not preserve us, our land, people and goods.

He is incapable of defending the North of England-nor does he care to do so. For years, Sire, you and yours-these same lords of Douglas and Moray, indeed-have raided and devastated and held to ransom our entire North. As far south as York. Has the King of England ever sought to aid us? Never! He has invaded Scotland-but that was for his own pride and glory, not our help.

We have pleaded with him for what should be our right, the right of any part of the kingdom-protection, aid, governance. And received none. So, we say, it were better that the North of England came under the King of Scots’ protection than his enmity! We are too far from London, Sire. And once, Scotland reached as far as Lancaster …”

“You are proposing that I annexe the North of England-with your help, man?”

“I am. If King Edward will not heed our last demand foray peace treaty.”

Bruce looked at Douglas and Moray, at something of a loss.

They appeared only astonished, and offered him no guidance.

“How much of substance is there here?” he demanded.

“I do not doubt your serious intent, my lord-or you would not have come here at the risk of your head. But-how much of backing have you? Few can know of your move-or King Edward’s spies would know of it also, by this!”

“I know the temper of the North, Sire. I am Governor. And I am no fancy fool sent up from the South. I am a Cumbrian. See you, the North has been in a ferment for years. The Earl of Lancaster knew it. But he acted foolishly, and too soon. Nevertheless, his execution grievously offended the North, where so many were his vassals. I heard cheers for Edward’s defeat at Byland in Carlisle’s streets!

Northumberland is ready to revolt-for they have been harder hit by the Scots raiding than have Cumberland and Westmorland. Indeed, many there believe that Your Highness intends to annexe Northumberland to Scotland anyway. After your claim to Tynedale. That it is in your realm.”

“There could be a grain of truth in that,” the King admitted.

“I have considered it. And I will so do-if it will bring King Edward to his senses and the peace-tables.”

“It is my belief that it would fail to do so. Even this. Never was a king so set in his folly. I say, Sire, that you will have to reckon without Edward of Carnarvon! He will not negotiate with you, because to do so he must recognise you as King of Scots, equal with himself, and independent. This he will never do. All the defeats and raids since Bannockburn have not brought him to it. Annexation of Northumberland to your realm in itself will not do so either. Other steps Your Majesty must take. You will only gain your peace treaty with another king on England’s throne!”

“M’mmm.” Bruce took a pace or two over the flagged floor of the

brewhouse, in a quandary. In his heart, he knew that this man was

probably right. Yet it went against the grain, against all his

instincts, for himself, a king, to plot with a traitorous subject to

bring down another king. Not that such qualms had ever affected Edward or his father. He swung on Moray.

“How think you, Thomas?” he demanded, to gain time for decision.

“Is there to be no peace while King Edward reigns?”

“It is now nine years since Bannockburn, Sire. And you have done all that man can do to gain a treaty. In this I fear my lord of Carlisle is right. King Edward will not change now. Yet both realms need peace above all things. It seems that other means must be used to bring it about. Has my lord firm suggestions?” Recognising his uncle’s difficult position, Moray asked the question himself.

Harcla responded without hesitation.

“I have, my lord. I propose that King Robert should give me firm terms to lay before King Edward. If he rejects them-then we make armed revolt in the North, assisted by the Scots, to have the King deposed and his son appointed in his place, with a regency. On understanding and agreement that the first act of the new sovereign would be the conclusion of a treaty of peace with Scotland, accepting the independence of that realm and the authority of King Robert.”