Nigel Tranter - The Steps to the Empty Throne

Bruce thrust out a hand to clasp her bent shoulder.

“Not so, lass—not so. Would you had been here two days ago, yes. But today is also a day. I do greatly esteem the presence of a Mac Duff —especially so fair a one! In order that you should do what only Mac Duff can rightfully do. You shall crown me again, forthwith.

And seat me on the true Stone of Destiny also. For it is here, despite all. The Stone of Scone. The Abbot Henry saved it. Edward has a false boulder, a worthless lump of building-stone, to cherish at his Westminster! We shall have a second crowning.

And none shall say that Robert Bruce is not truly King of Scots!”

The girl burst into tears, there and then.

So, that afternoon, in another brief but joyful ceremony, the Countess of Buchan led her sovereign to the Stone, and there placed the gold circlet over his brow, to the lusty cheers of the concourse. And, as lustily, Bruce kissed her for her services, declaring that he felt a King indeed.

Chapter Twenty-two

Although Bruce ordained that the festivities continue at Scone for some days longer, the very next morning he himself, with Elizabeth and a small Court—including the Countess of Buchan whom the Queen appointed her principal lady-in-waiting—set off on a progress through the land. Admittedly it was partly a recruiting drive, with Aymer de Valence’s invasion threat bearing heavily on his mind—but it was advisable, necessary, that the King should show himself to as large a number of his people as was possible.

Meanwhile emissaries, including his brothers Thomas and Alexander, and the Bishops of Glasgow and Moray, rode south, east and west, to raise troops and rouse the country—especially south-west, where lay the greatest opportunity to harry and distract Pembroke.

The King chose to travel northwards, for it was there that the Comyn influence was strongest and must be countered. His progress was not entirely formal and processional, for he took the English-held royal castles of Forfar and Kincardine on the way.

But most of the time was spent visiting towns and abbeys and communities, receiving tokens of loyalty, dispensing largesse and requiring the fealties of local barons-including the reluctant Malise, Earl of Strathearn, whom he more or less kidnapped. All the while, however, he had, as it were, one eye turned backwards, one ear listening for tidings of Pembroke and the English.

The royal company had left Aberdeen for Inverness, and were in fact at the Mar castle of Kildrummy when the vital word reached them. Pembroke had moved—and in no uncertain fashion. Presumably perceiving that every day’s delay was likely to strengthen Bruce’s hand, he had left his main body of foot at Carlisle, to await the arrival of the Prince of Wales, who had now reached Lancaster with another large army, and had spurred onwards with some three thousand picked horse. Refusing to be distracted either right or left after crossing the Border, he was driving due north at an impressive pace, avoiding all entanglements and leaving any opposition to be looked after by the slower moving main body. Fairly clearly Edward’s particular orders were to close with Bruce at all costs and bring him to immediate battle.

His general orders to all ranks were, however, to slay, burn and raise

dragon-that is, to show the dreaded dragon banner which proclaimed that no mercy was to be granted.

In the Council followed the King was offered varied advice, but most urged that he withdrew promptly into the deeper fastnesses of the Highlands, where the English could not follow, leaving Pembroke to his own devices, and living to fight another day when he had suitable forces assembled. Bruce himself was the principal objector to this superficially wise and reasonable course.

It was not that he was rash, unthinking or over-sanguine. But he was the new-crowned monarch, he pointed out. To start his reign by disappearing into the safety of the trackless mountains, abandoning his people to the unchecked fury of the baulked invaders, was not to be considered. If he was to maintain any credit with his subjects, he must challenge Pembroke somehow, and be seen to do so. He might fail the first test, but he must not seem to shirk it.

Somewhat reluctantly those of most experience conceded that.

Bruce’s reasoning and judgement might be sound, but how to implement it was another matter. There was not more than 600 fighting-men with the King at this juncture, and though many more could be raised, from comparatively near at hand, within a day or so, and thousands in a week or two, Pembroke’s swift advance denied them the time they required.

Lamberton, whom Bruce had appointed Chancellor meantime, seizing on this need for time, declared that they must use cunning.

Valour for all to see was all very well for the monarch, but his ministers could afford to be more devious. He proposed that while the King was ready to meet Pembroke in the field, he himself should hasten south and seek a parley with the English civil authorities, make moves towards entering into negotiations. As Chancellor. This might blunt the edge or Pembroke’s drive and effect a delay—especially as it was requested that such negotiations should await King Edward’s own arrival. Doubt and delay—those could be valuable weapons in the circumstances, and every weapon must be used.

Bruce demurred. Hints at such early surrender, even though they had no base in fact, were repugnant. Also it would put Lamberton himself in a position of extreme danger, when the deceit was discovered—as in due course it must be. If the Chancellor was available for negotiations, he would equally be available for capture.

The other shook his head. It was a risk that fell to be taken. They all were adventuring all. Danger was their lot, every one, from henceforth until the kingdom was won and secure.

So it was accepted, and thereafter the royal party turned its face south again, the King calling on all leal men to rally to his standard.

But Lamberton hastened ahead, making for Edinburgh where the English civil administration had its base. None doubted that he was putting his head into the lion’s mouth.

By mid-June Bruce was at the Abbey of Coupar, at the west end of Strathmore, with 4,000 men, a quarter of them cavalry, when he learned that Pembroke was at Stirling and had halted.

Whether this was on account of Lamberton’s gesture at opening negotiations, they could not tell. But it gave the King a little more time to wait for his hoped-for reinforcements.

Only a few had come in, a day or two later, when the next courier arrived from the south. Pembroke had not been wasting his time. He had been sending out detachments to take loyalist castles, and amongst others had captured old Bishop Wishart at Coupar Castle in life. Worse, the Earl of Buchan had come north from England, and had called to arms the whole force of Comyn against Bruce. Now he was marching to join Pembroke, who was on his way to Perth.

Grimly Bruce abandoned his waiting game. Time, it seemed, was no longer in his favour. He gave the word to break camp and march. Elizabeth and the ladies he left behind in the care of his brother Nigel.

On the 18th of June the King of Scots approached the walled city of Perth, so close to Scone where three months earlier he had been enthroned. In the city, Aymer de Valence, Earl of Pembroke, lay, with reputedly 6,000 chivalry, 1,500 more than Bruce’s total force, and with Sir Henry Percy and Sir Robert Clifford as lieutenants.

Taking up a position with the wide Tay on his left hand and the marshes of the incoming Almond on his right, the King sent forward a colourful party of heralds and trumpeters, under the King of Arms, to declare that the King of Scots wished to know the business of the Earl of Pembroke in his city of Perth.