indeed struck them hard. They are, perhaps, nearer to yielding than we
think. Pembroke himself confided to me, at York, that King Edward
scarce knew where to turn, he has so many problems. And he is
unpopular with his people. He is blamed for the defeat at Bannockburn
* although I think the fault was more Herefords and Pembrokes own. I say, let us have patience. Keep up our present tactics. King Edward may be nearer breaking than we know.
Patience! Edward Bruce burst out, from almost the next seat on the earls benches.
There speaks folly! Patience! Do nothing!
And give the English time to recover. That way, we will have to fight another Bannockburn before long. By being patient! Campbell, for once, was right! These two had never been friends.
Patience is no way to deal with the English. Only force do they heed.
The harder you strike them, the more ready they are to talk.
So, I say, let us strike them hard. And where they are weakest. In
That gained a mixed reception, cheers and objections, both. The King frowned.
Ireland is where we can do most damage with fewest men, his brother went on.
The Irish chiefs are ready to revolt. They have gallowglasses by the thousand. Properly captained, and with an armoured host of chivalry to lead them, they could drive the English out of Ireland in weeks. Then astride the Irish south, we threaten the English south. Across their channel. The Welsh, too, would rise at that stage. They love the English no more than we, or the Irish do! Give me a few thousand men, and I will win Ireland for you! Edward looked directly at his brother now.
All others, the Chancellor included, perforce did likewise.
The King took his time. This was serious, he recognised. Edward had
long cherished the notion of invading Ireland. But to raise it, like
this, in parliament, where he could demand a vote-and quite possibly
command a majority from frustrated members-put the project into a
different category. He knew that he, Robert Bruce,was against it;
therefore Edward must be fairly sure of himself, sure of large support My lord of Carricks proposal is not new, he said.
It has been discussed many times. And always the decision has been against it Because it must amount to a major campaign of war. It cannot be otherwise. And we have had more than sufficient of war. It is peace Scotland needs now, not more war.
The King says that we need peace, Edward took him up promptly.
But my lord Bishop, and these others, tell us that the English will not make peace. Not yet. We must force them to it We can do that only by making them choose peace rather than war. I would say that, while they are in defeat, at odds with each other, licking their wounds as the Campbell says, we should invade them. Invade England with all our power. Not just raids. I say that we could be hammering at the gates of London within a month!
And then they would be praying on their knees for peace-their bended knees! But, if that is too great a venture for those of you who are so weary of warfare-then, I declare to you, this Irish venture should commend itself. My royal brother says that it would be a major campaign of war. Yes-but not for the Scots. Only for the Irish. All I need is a spearhead. A small force, to give them a lead. Five or six thousand men. Of these, I will take 3,000 of my own. From my Lordship of Galloway and earldom of Carrick. So I ask this parliament for a mere 2,000. To purchase an English peace for you. And, moreover, to make an ally of Ireland instead of an English province.
This was heady stuff, and for the victors of Bannockburn dangerously so. Bruce could sense how a large part of the assembly rose to it.
Will my lord of Carrick tell us what makes him so sure that the Irish will rise in large numbers? he asked, evenly.
The English have a strong grip. The Anglo-Irish lords are powerful, and notable fighters. They have had to be! Witness my own good-father, the Earl of Ulster. They will not be so easily broken.
Ulster and many others are still in England. And the Irish chiefs will rise. ONeill. OConnor. OBrien. Sorley McDonnell.
Young MacQuillan. MacSweeney. Forty thousand men are committed, for the start If we land before May is out Twice that within two weeks of landing.
There was absolute silence in Ayr Castle hall now, at what Edward had said and what it implied. All eyes turned on the King, The knuckles gleamed whitely on Bruces clenched fists as he fought to control his hot temper. For long moments he did not risk words. When he did, they came jerkily, almost breathlessly.
You … have done this! Written to them? These Irish chiefs.
Planned a campaign. With them. Gone so far. Won promise of support Numbers of men. Without … without my authority.
Without so much as informing me! The King!
Even Edward Bruce was abashed in some measure by his brothers obvious tight-chained fury. He spread his hands.
Not so, sire. I but sounded them. Sought opinions as to the chances of success. Made inquiries, as would any prudent man. Before I raised the issue here …
Prudent man! By the living God …! In his extremity, Bruce gripped the arms of his throne with a force almost enough to wrench them apart Somehow he managed to master himself.
Continue, my lord.
Because there had been talk of this before. And no true decision.
I deemed it right to make such inquiries. To bring to this parliament So that you, and others, may judge aright. The worth of it. Surely that is no fault?
You named these chiefs as committed. To whom committed?
His brother hesitated.
To myself. At this present. But to Your Grace, as King, when the matter is settled and the invasion begins.
So! Meantime, they are committed to you, the Earl of Carrick!
But great chiefs such as these do not commit themselves and their thousands to war without prior commitment being made to them. For the matter to get thus far, you also must be committed. How far? That was a bark.
I … I have promised to go. With my own force. From Galloway and Carrick. Whatever you do. Before May is out That admission came in a rush, but forcefully, defiantly, not conceding anything. And then, as the merest afterthought With Your Graces permission.
So it was out Plain to all men. The Kings brother, the second man in the kingdom, entering into secret warlike negotiations with the leaders of a neighbouring realm. It could be called lise majestie. Even high treason. Or just plain, insolent contempt of any authority other than his own.
Bruces every Impulse was to hit back, to assert his own overriding
authority, to show who was master in Scotland, brother or none. But
the long hard years of self-discipline, of taking the long view, of
thinking for the realm rather than for himself, triumphed, A public
break between himself and his brother could do untold damage especially if indeed many supported Edwards project Moreover, this was a parliament, not a council, convened to hear the will of the community of the realm rather than that of the monarch. And there was the matter of the succession, which was due to come up hereafter, and which any drastic break with Edward would throw into confusion.
When Bruce spoke, he had himself in hand.
It was not well done, my lord, he said severely.
The secrecy. This of committing yourself, without my knowledge and assent. For whatever reason.
This is the Kings business, and his only. But … since the policy
behind it affects the whole realm, I would hear the will of this
parliament How do you say, my lords?
There was a long pause, with some shuffling of feet. Few there could fail to recognise the awkwardness of the situation; that an expression of approval for the Irish venture could be taken as a gesture against the monarch. Yet obviously, not a few were in fact in favour, even amongst the most loyal.