Pembroke came in haste to Edward. ‘My lord,’ he said, ‘you will see the
urgency of this matter. Mowbray must be relieved at Stirling and we have little time in which to do it.’
Edward sighed. ‘These tiresome Scots.’
Pembroke went on a trifle impatiently: ‘Mowbray is a gallant soldier and a faithful servant. He needs assistance and he must have it.’
‘Then, let us send it.’
‘My lord, that is not enough. Since your father’s death we have lost a great deal of that which he gained. One by one the garrison towns are slipping away from us. We must stop this and the only way to do it is to amass an army and march on Scotland.’
‘The barons―’
‘It is an opportunity to unite them in a single cause. No matter what their quarrels with each other, their duty to the Crown remains. I am ready to forget my differences with Warwick until this matter is resolved and so must they.’
‘I see this could be so,’ said Edward.
‘There must be a full scale invasion from sea and land. The Scots have a
great leader in the Bruce. Never have they been so united― even under Wallace.
Now is the time, my lord. If we allow Stirling to fall into the hands of the Scots it will be a disaster. We owe it to Mowbray to send relief as soon as it is possible.’
‘It shall be done,’ cried Edward. He felt a sudden enthusiasm for the fight.
‘It was true that it would bind the barons together and he was tired— and a little afraid— of their continual bickering. It would help him to forget Gaveston.
People were always comparing him with his father, now they should see that he could be warlike too. He would teach the Scots a lesson.’
‘We should summon the earls and barons without fail,’ said Pembroke
‘Let it be done,’ answered Edward.
Within a few days the commands were issued to eight earls― among them
Lancaster— and eighty-seven barons.
They were to meet at Berwick by the tenth day of June.
―――――――
Preparations went on apace. Edward ordered that a fleet of twenty-three
vessels be assembled at the Cinque ports and their purpose was to invade
Scotland.
In all this Pembroke was beside the King. He tried to instill into Edward a respect for his opponent. It would not be the first time Pembroke had faced Bruce. He had been victorious against him at Methven and beaten by him at
Loudoun Hill and he knew him for a formidable foe. Edward laughed aside his warnings. Bruce was a man to be reckoned with, yes, he accepted that. But such an army would come against him that his would be completely outnumbered.
‘Even my father could not have withstood such an army had he been on the
opposing side,’ said Edward.
‘ ‘Tis so, my lord,’ replied Pembroke. ‘But we must not make the mistake of expecting easy victory.’
Pembroke was a master at the art of war. He made sure that the army should have the necessary provisions; he set up men whose efficiency he could rely on to take care of the stores. They must have in their train smiths, carpenters, masons, and armourers, wagons to carry the tents and pavilions and all that was necessary to warfare. Many a battle he reminded the King had been lost through neglect of such details.
Nor must the King neglect to ask the help of God and it would be a good
gesture for him to make a pilgrimage with the Queen, and his young son to St Albans.
Isabella was nothing loath. She enjoyed displaying herself to the people, and that she should show off her son delighted her.
Along the roads people came out to give loyal greetings as they passed. It was like the old days when Great Edward went to war, they said. There was the King with his Queen and his son, the heir to the throne. The Gaveston period was over. That man had been evil. He was the son of a witch and temporarily had cast a spell on the King. All Edward needed now was victory in Scotland and the people would be certain that the old days were back again.
Alas, it was not going to be so easy, as he found when he arrived at Berwick.
It was Pembroke who brought the news to him. ‘Lancaster, Arundel, Surrey
and Warwick will not come in person,’ he told the King.
Edward was filled with sudden rage. ‘Why not? How dare they? Have I not
summoned them?’
‘Aye, my lord, and they have sent token troops in accordance with their
feudal vows to the Crown. They say that they should have been consulted before you took up arms.’
‘Traitors!’ cried the King.
‘We cannot say that, my lord. They have fulfilled their commitments though in the minimum degree it is true and we shall not have the force we expected from them.’
‘I thought at a time like this they would have considered their duty to their country.’
‘They consider only gain to themselves, my lord. And they have performed
what was required of them at this time. We have the service of good men. Many have seen service in Scotland before this and Wales too. Their services will be of the greatest value to us.’
The King agreed and he glowed with pride and optimism when he surveyed
his army. There must be some forty thousand men, a band of which even his
father would have been proud.
Edward was going to show the Scots that his father’s spirit going to make
them lived on. He was going to make them eat their words. This was going to be as great a victory as had ever glorified his father’s name.
He with his men marched on to Edinburgh.
―――――――
Robert the Bruce, aware of the advancing English, should have been filled
with apprehension. He was, and yet there was in him a surging hope, for he believed that it was his destiny to drive the English out of Scotland and when Edward the First had died and he had begun to realize the nature of his successor he had been certain that he was going to succeed.
There had been so much failure; the Scots could not hope to raise an army
which could compare with that of Edward’s in training; in equipment they were vastly inferior; yet the spirit was there. Men who were defending their homeland always had the advantage over the invader. If they had an inspired leader, they could work miracles. Bruce was inspired. He has suffered many defeats but he knew he was going to win in the end. he liked to tell the tale of the spider which had somehow caught his imagination and that of his followers.
He would sit by the light of the camp fire and talk to them of the time when he had been lonely, depressed and defeated, when he had been routed and had barely managed to save his life. He would tell how he had lain in his bed and watched a spider try six times to attach its thread to a balk and each time fail.
The spider went on trying until on the seventh attempt when he was successful.
This seemed significant to Bruce because six times he had raised armies and attempted to defeat the English and each time he had been defeated.
‘Now shall this spider teach me what I am to do,’ he said. ‘Even as the
creature failed so did I; and even as he succeeded in the end, I shall also. He has taught me a lesson which I will never forget and that is never to accept defeat. If I fail yet will I try again and go on trying until defeat turns into victory.’
It was spoken of often in his camps. They knew that their King would never harm a spider, and nor would they, for it had become a superstition that ill luck would follow any who did.
It had helped him, that spider, because the legend which had grown up round it was that one day Robert would succeed even as the spider had. He was going to turn the English out of Scotland.
This might be the time. It must be the time, for the King himself was in Scotland with a mighty army and the battle which would inevitably follow could be a decisive one. True, Great Edward was no more, but the army was there and how could the Scottish army one third the size stand up to it?
Robert the Bruce had mustered his men at Torwood close by Stirling where
he reviewed his chances. With a army he must rely on his own generalship, his men’s determination and his knowledge of the ground on which the battle would take place. He must manoeuvre so that he should choose the spot and as he had few cavalry men and the English were well equipped in this field, he decided that must be fought on foot. He himself chose the battleground. It was to be New Park between the village of St. Ninian and the little stream of the Bannock which was known in the district as Bannockburn. Here by the water, the land was marshy and this would provide a danger for the English horses.