Nigel Tranter - The Steps to the Empty Throne

“To help raise the banner of freedom.”

“You say that? Edward’s man!”

“My own man, sir.”

“And your father’s son!”

“My father will choose for himself. 7 have chosen to come here.

Would you have had me choose otherwise?”

“No-0-0.” The older man rode closer.

“You change sides, then?”

“Sides, my lord? Say that I do not take arms against my own flesh and blood. While that was not required of me, I preferred Edward’s train to the man Baliol’s. As, I think, did you! Today, all is changed. The sides, not I.”

Doubtfully the other was considering when Douglas came thrusting from his son’s side, voice raised.

“My wife, Bruce?” he cried.

“You hold her? You dare to lay hands on Douglas’s wife!” Meddle with me and mine …!”

“I brought the Lady of Douglas to you, my lord. For her wellbeing and safety. She awaits you, there. Unharmed. As is your son …”

Father,” the boy called eagerly.

“He is good. The Lord Robert has treated us kindly. Saved us from the English …”

Without a word, Sir William wheeled his horse around and set off into a gallop towards the Maybole contingent. After a moment’s uncertainty, the boy went hot-foot after him.

The Steward looked from them back to Bruce.

“You surprise me, my lord. But the support of Bruce is welcome—so be it is true, sure, honest. Those are men you have brought to our cause?”

“Some seventy from Annandale, two hundred from Maybole.

More are to come.”

“And we can do with all such. At Ayr—did you have sight of the English?”

“I kept my distance. Saw nothing stirring.”

“Aye. Well, come you. We shall go see Wishart, my lord Bishop. Like myself, he stood your grandsire’s friend. When Edward Plantagenet chose the wrong king for Scotland ..”.”

Chapter Five

That night, in the hall of Eglinton’s Seagate Castle at Irvine, Bruce sat at ease, as he had not done for many a day. With him, at the long table, lounged a goodly company—better than he had known or anticipated. As well as the deceptively gentle-seeming and almost diffident Robert Wishart, Bishop of Glasgow, the Steward, and Douglas, were the Steward’s brother, Sir John Stewart of Bonkill; Sir Alexander Lindsay, Lord of Crawford;

Andrew Moray, Lord of Bothwell, heir of the great de Moravia family of the North; Sir John the Graham, of Dundaff; Sir Robert Boyd of Cunninghame; Thomas Dalton, Bishop of Galloway;

and Sir Richard Lundin, as well as other knights and barons of less renown. This revolt, it seemed, was no flicker of a candle-end.

The new recruit was comforted, the more so as, after an initial hesitation, almost all had accepted him warmly enough. As the only earl present, of course, though the youngest save for the Graham, he outranked all.

The discussion of future strategy inevitably dominated the evening’s talk. Bishop Wishart was for moving on Glasgow, from which bishop’s burgh he could assure them of much support; the Steward, whose lands of Renfrew and Bute were in that direction, inclining to agree. Moray of Bothwell, however, declared that this would be a waste of time and strength, at this stage.

They should make for the North. All Scotland north of Forth and Clyde could be theirs, with but little effort. That was where the English were weakest. His own uncle had risen, in Ross and Aberdeenshire. And the Comyns, the most powerful house in all Scotland, were there—and hated Edward. They must link up.

Graham, whose lands were in Perthshire, supported him; but Douglas declared that they must hold the West March of the Border, above all, and so prevent Edward reinforcing in the west.

Then attack across country to Berwick itself, the headquarters of the English dominance. Cut that trunk, and the branches would wither away.

Back and forth went the argument. With the two senior leaders advocating Glasgow, of course, there was most weight in that direction; but on the other hand, Sir William Douglas was the most experienced soldier present, and his views, forcefully given, carried conviction-at least to Bruce, though he could not like the man. Moray’s scheme won least backing. It seemed to Bruce a longer-term project—and any talk of linking with his family’s enemies, the Comyns, raised his hackles.

He had listened, hitherto, silent save for a brief question or two.

Now, he spoke.

“You each near convince me that all are right, all best, my lords,” he said, with what he hoped would sound like diffidence.

“I am young, and little experienced in war. But I would think that our first concern is not Glasgow or the North.

Even the Border, though that should take precedence, I think. It is here, on our own doorstep. Ayr. Here we sit, with an English garrison but a dozen miles away. Should we not deal with these, before all else?”

It was Wishart, in his mildly hesitant voice, who answered that.

“We have not failed to consider this, and the like questions, my son. But we have decided that the taking of strong castles is not our first task. We must seek to contain such as come in our way, yes. But to use up our strength and precious time on the slow business of besieging such holds would De unwise. We could waste all our forces, sitting outside a few such castles.”

“Aye, my lord Bishop.” Having just come from sitting outside Douglas castle, Bruce scarcely required this to be pointed out.

“But Ayr is no great fortress. Its old castle was small—one of my

mother’s father’s houses. The English have built a new castle there, I

am told. But it is not yet finished and not large. The garrison can

be no more than a couple of score. The five hundred men they say are

at Ayr are the force from Lanark. Hazelrig’s men. They cannot all be cooped up in the castle.”

“They built a great barn. A barracks,” their host, de Eglinton, told them.

“To house the men while the new castle was building.

And to hold the Sheriff’s stores. The Lanark men lodge in this.”

“Is the castle finished?”

“Yes, this month past.”

“Nevertheless, they will not crowd five hundred men into it, I wager.”

“You know not what you say, Bruce.” That was Douglas, harshly.

“They do not have to be in the castle to defy us, hold us off. Under its walls and within its baileys, five hundred men could laugh at a great army. If it lacks siegery engines. Their archers, close packed along the castle walls, could keep us at a distance-their damned English archers I If you do not know them, I do!

With longbows on their parapet-walls, we could not get near them.”

“By night…?”

“By night, man I Think you these English are fools?” Douglas, who gloried in being no respecter of persons, undoubtedly had his reservations about the service Bruce had done him.

“They will have beacons blazing on every tower and wall head Turning

night into day. Had you fought English veterans, you would know better

than to talk such ha vers

Frowning darkly, Bruce clenched his fists “The man Wallace, whoever he is, would seem to think differently from you, sir!” he gave back warmly.

“Or he would not have won Lanark!”

At mention of the name, silence fell on that room, sudden, noticeable. Bruce looked round at all the different faces and saw reserve, stiffness, now masking them all.

After a pause, it was the Bishop who spoke.

“Your spirit, my lord of Carrick, is praiseworthy. We all welcome it, I am sure.

But we must be guided by the voices of experience. Fervour is not sufficient. My lord of Douglas is right. We must not squander our resources. These English at Ayr, though too many to assail, under the protection of their castle, are not of numbers large enough to menace our rear. We shall leave them.”