Nigel Tranter - The Steps to the Empty Throne

“Come—wash the taste of it away with this, my dear,” Elizabeth urged. She was strong, understanding, patient, and because of her position and wealth, able to help much. What he would have done without her, these months, he did not know.

He pushed away the proffered goblet.

“No. It would make me sick, I swear. My stomach is turned, I tell you! It is too much. I cannot bear with more of this, Elizabeth.

That devil has me beaten, destroyed, damned-as much as he has this

wretched land I All day and every day he grinds me into the dust of his

hatred, even as he smiles and strokes, mocking me. My belly is galled

with his insults, poisoned by his spleen. I tell you, many a time I

have been near to drawing my dirk and plunging it into his black heart

…!”

“Hush you, hush you, Robert!” That girl was not easily scared, but she lowered her voice, glancing anxiously around at the golden-glowing silken hangings of the tent, refulgent with the evening sunlight.

“These walls are thin. Watch your words, of a mercy!”

“I watch my words the livelong day! While Edward slays me with his I My life is not worth the living. My head rings with words I dare not speak. My nostrils reek with the stench of fire, of burned flesh. My eyes see only savagery decked in smiles and laughter, dead men’s eyes reproaching me—aye, and live men’s fingers pointing! Pointing at Bruce, as traitor, as turncoat…!”

“Not so, my heart. Do not say it. You mistake. It is not at you that men point …”

“I say it is. Do you think I do not know? All this day I have been with him at Dollar. Doleur, they say the name once was-and God knows it is meet today! Receiving the submissions and homage of barons and landed men from all this Fothrif. Led in, some at horses’ tails, some bound or in chains, some lashed with whips-receiving them in a nunnery with all its orchards and pleasances hung with corpses. Forced to sit beside him, while men were brought to their knees before him. Think you I did not sec what their eyes said, whatever their lips muttered? They could not look in Edward’s eye—but they could look in mine]

Sitting there, his hand on my arm …”

“It is evil, yes. Grievous. A shameful thing. But you must bear it my love-you must harden your heart. He will break your pride, your spirit. You must not give him the victory.”

“There is half of Scotland before me, yet. To see stricken.

Crushed. Weeks, months of this venom …”

Bruce’s voice died away as there was a commotion at the tent door, the armed guard clanking weapons. The entrance-curtain was thrust aside unceremoniously, and two men strode inside unannounced, stooping because both were tall. Both were Plantagenets, though one did not bear the name.

“Ha, Robert! You rest, lad? Plied with refreshment by fair hands, heh? Would I were in your shoes! My lady prefers to eat sweetmeats and stitch fool threads!” Edward bowed gallantly to Elizabeth.

“But no rest for the King. Despite his years!” At sixty-four, he was heavy, purple of face, but his basic vigour little diminished.

Bruce was slow to rise, striving to school his features. He bowed briefly, unspeaking. Elizabeth had curtsied more promptly.

“News, Robert—tidings,” the King went on.

“Good, and less good. From France. And from the West. John, here, brings it.

From the West. Of folly and knavery. My son’s folly. And your people’s knavery! Eh, John?”

The massively tall and sombre-eyed young man with him, so uncannily like the other in build and face, inclined his dark head.

Travel stained but richly armoured, he was Sir John de Botetourt Edward’s own bastard, and now Warden of the West March. A man of few words but strong hand, he let his sire do the talking.

“My son-my other son-Edward of Carnarvon, lacks much.

But wits, most of all! Nor has your friend Lancaster greatly aided him it seems! They have mired themselves in your Galloway and Carrick bogs, a plague on them! A mighty host wasted, in chasing scum! Your scum, Robert! Your wretched savages of the West are resisting everywhere. In their accursed hills. It is shameful—not to be borne. My commands, my splendid host, being thwarted by this beggarly rabble.

Who act in your name, by the Mass! Yours!”

Bruce moistened his lips, but said nothing.

“So you will leave me, Robert, meantime. I must bear to lose your

joyous presence! For a space. As must you, my dear. You will go back

with John, here, to the West, my friend. You will go and tell your

treacherous people to lay down their arms. You will take order with

them, hang the leaders, teach them what it means to defy the King of England. You will do more than that.

You will muster them to my arms I To fight against their rebellious countrymen, not their liege lord. I want a Bruce host in the field, Robert. Fighting by my side. By our side I You understand?”

Edward was eyeing his victim levelly.

“That I can by no means do, Sire,” the younger man declared flatly.

“I have no authority in the West, since I have yielded to your peace. My earldom is taken over by others. I have no power and jurisdiction now.”

“There you underestimate, Robert. Underestimate my love for you. For you have my power. More potent than any earldom of Carrick. To use, lad—to use. Moreover, you shall have authority over more than your former vassals. I want men from more than Carrick, Galloway and Annandale. So you shall be Sheriff of Ayr and Lanark. For the present. Here is sufficient authority to act even for Robert Bruce!”

The other blinked.

“I … I do not wish this appointment, Sire.”

“But I do, my friend! And it shall be. From this moment, you are Sheriff of Ayr and Lanark, with all the duties thereto belonging! Sir John here, your deputy and companion. Close companion! In token of which I require from your sheriff dom within the month, 1,000 picked footmen, duly armed. Also a further thousand, half horsed, from your own lands of Carrick and Galloway. These, the first token. Within the month. More to follow. It is clear?”

“But, Sire—you have hundreds of thousands of men! What want you with these? Unwilling…!”

“Each one will be worth many of my own, wisely used, lad.

You would not begrudge me them? In your loyalty?”

Bruce looked at his wife, helplessly. She nodded, almost imperceptibly.

“I

shall go with my lord, to aid him, Sire,” she said.

“You would not part husband and wife?”

“Alas, my dear—I fear it is necessary. The Queen requires your presence. She greatly leans on you. And this is men’s work-mustering forces and hanging rebels. Not such as you may aid in.

Moreover, lass—you will but bring Robert back the quieter, will you not? To win back to your side I swear I would do all in notable haste! It will be so with him, I vow.”

There was silence in that tent for a space.

Then Edward laughed.

“But, save us—I have almost forgot the good “dings! En, John? From France. As you know, my uncouth allies the Flemings surprised and defeated my good brother-in-law of France at Courtrai. Last July. His fortunes have scarce mended since. The foolish fellow has come to blows with His Holiness of Rome! So I have had to act to save him from himself-as kinsman should I Now, at last, he has signed a peace. No truce, but a final peace. After all these years, England and France are at peace. The Holy See also. Is this not excellent?”

Bruce drew a deep breath.

“And … the terms?”

“Terms? Why, scarce any, Robert. Merely some … adjustments.

To our mutual advantage. One which will rejoice your heart, I have little doubt. The man Baliol to be held secure in his own house at Bailleulen-Vimeu. Henceforth. He and his son.