Nigel Tranter - The Steps to the Empty Throne

It was specious, but clever. In one respect, all the Percy had said

was true. The families of men in revolt were always in danger. If

those required to yield the hostages were in fact honest in their acceptance of the terms, the said hostages would indeed be as safe, as well off, so disposed, as at large in unhappy Scotland meantime.

And for the four named to refuse this gesture was to reject the whole terms, to deny and fail their colleagues. None failed to see it.

“My daughter is far from here,” Bruce jerked.

“I cannot yield her to you. She is in my sister’s care. At Kildrummy.

In Mar.

Hundreds of miles north of this.”

“You can send for her, my lord. And meantime, these others-the Steward, the Bishop, and, perhaps, my lord of Crawford-will stand surety for her delivery?” Percy almost smiled.

“How now?” Moray murmured, at Bruce’s car.

“Are you still for talk with the Englishmen? For terms, man?”

The Steward spoke, with an accession of dignity.

“This of the hostages is grievous. We will have to consider your terms. And inform you. But we cannot yield Wallace. He is gone.”

“You can bring him back.”

“You do not know William Wallace, if you say that! He is his own master. He will come for none here. We can no more deliver up Wallace than fly in the air, sir! You must needs take him for yourself.”

“Very well. We shall do so. You wish time to consider these terms?”

“Yes. There is much to consider.”

Percy looked at Bruce.

“You also, kinsman?”

Set-faced he inclined his head.

The Englishman did likewise.

“Then we shall go. And return tomorrow. A good day to you, my lords.

And … consider well.”

Nodding to Clifford, he turned for his horse.

“One word, Percy.” That was Bruce suddenly.

“In all this we have but your word. How do we know that you do not deceive us? Was my lord of Douglas feared? That other than yourself would resist Edward.”

“Percy’s word is sufficient, is it not?” the other returned.

“But if you require proof—ask these.” He gestured towards those behind him.

“They will tell you that two of the greatest earls in England, Norfolk and Hereford, have refused Edward’s commands to cross the Channel, with their armies. As contrary to the terms of Magna Carta. Others follow their lead. Is it enough? Or must I name more names?”

no “It is enough, yes.”

When the Englishmen were gone and the debating began again, it was clear the great majority of the Scots were for accepting the terms. Even Douglas appeared to be convinced it was no trick—the news of the resistance of the mighty Earls of Norfolk and Hereford, the Bigods and Bohuns, had stilled even his doubts. He was against the surrender of young James Douglas as hostage, naturally—but otherwise agreed to challenge the English to battle, at this stage, was not politic. Only Andrew Moray remained obdurate.

“I will not submit. To these terms, or any,” he declared, to Bruce.

“My people up in Moray and the North are in revolt. I cannot fail them, here. I will go to them. And you, Bruce? You can stand there and consider the yielding up of your own child?”

“They have not got my Marjory yet!” the other returned grimly.

“I said to talk, did I not? Talk, rather than fight and be beaten. I still say talk. At length. While the English settle their quarrel with their king.”

“Why bide here for it, man? Why not slip away? Go north.

Come with me. All Scotland lies open …”

“Not all Scotland, Andrew. See you—you and Graham and others may slip away so. Your lands all lie to the north. Even Bothwell is not yet touched. You can raise men and means, from them. But most here, like myself, have their lands in this South West. Most already overrun by the English. Our sole power comes from our lands and our men. You know . If we run for it, northwards, we are becoming little more than landless men, outlaws, swords for sale! Is that how we, her great lords, can best fight for Scotland? Resist Edward? I think not. Douglas, the Steward, Crawford, and the rest—they are in the same position.

I say talk, then. These terms will keep us talking for long. Go you, if you will…”

Bruce’s strategy of talk, and more talk, was more successful, almost crazily so, than he, or anyone, could have hoped. A month later, no less, they were still talking at Irvine.

It was not all merely effective delaying tactics, of course, though

played its part. Events and conditions far from Ayrshire had the

greater effect. And the fact no one really wanted to fight was highly

relevant—for Clifford the fire-eater was despatched on the more

congenial and active duty of chasing Wallace. Indeed, if in Bruce was

the initial designer of what became known, and chuckled over, as the Capitulation of Irvine, the most long-drawn capitulation in Scotland’s story, Wallace was the true protractor of it. With Edward Plantagenet’s help.

Wallace disappeared from Irvine into the fastnesses of the Ettrick Forest, his favourite refuge and a notorious haunt of broken men. From there, in an extraordinary short time, he emerged again with a tough and highly-mobile cut-throat band of perhaps two hundred. Avoiding embroilment with English garrisons in Lanarkshire, he made a lightning descent upon the town of Glasgow, where Bishop Anthony Beck had gone to collect the cathedral relics and to initiate a campaign for English hegemony over the Scots Church. Taken completely by surprise, the English in Glasgow were overwhelmed, and Beck was forced to flee, a salutary experience for that exponent of the Church Militant.

Wallace well knew that this kind of warfare depended for. its success on continual movement and surprise. He did not stay at Glasgow but, reinforced considerably, moved north into the Lennox where the earl aided and abetted him, being no Norman but of the old Celtic stock. Clifford was now tailing him, but far behind.

Wallace made a swift and unexpected dash right across Scotland, to Perth, and at Scone managed to surprise Edward’s Justiciar of Scotland, William Ormsby, holding harsh courts, who escaped with his life but left behind much valuable booty. Then, by tremendous forced marches across the mountains Wallace descended upon the English-held towns of Brechin, Forfar and Montrose, to wipe out what Edward had done there to John Baliol.

All fell He linked up here with Andrew Moray, who had hastened north to lead his father’s people of Moray and the Black Isle, and could now claim the enemy-held castles of Inverness, Urquhart, Elgin and Banff. Together they turned south for Dundee.

This was a brilliant campaign for the summer of 1297. But it was, of course, superficial. Nothing was consolidated behind this guerilla fighting, and it could not be claimed that the so-called rebels held the territory they so vigorously swept through. But it all had an enormous effect, nevertheless, on the Scots people. The name of William Wallace was on every lip. Their lords had failed them, but the common folk saw Wallace as their saviour. Young men flocked to him from far and near, from highlands and lowlands from east and west and north—many of them against the wishes of their own feudal superiors. He had an army now, even though a rag-tag one. And some barons were supporting him, other than Graham and Moray—for word had gone out from the talkers at Irvine, privily, to rouse the land. With this host, Wallace attempted what he had not hitherto risked, the siege of a major fortress and garrison town—Dundee, where he had been educated, and whence came Scrymgeour and many of his band.

If all this had its inevitable effect on Percy’s negotiating position, affairs in England had almost more. Edward, with his ally Guy, Count of Flanders, was attacking Philip the Fair, of France, with doubtful success—and at the same time fighting something like a rear guard action with his own recalcitrant barons at home. Many others had joined Norfolk and Hereford in refusing foreign service, some of them of lofty rank indeed. The King could do little against them without coming home, but what he could he did.