The Price of the King's Peace

Bruce half-rose in his throne, set-faced. Behind him his great

officers of state clapped hands to their own sword-hilts, glaring,

astonished. Appalled, Abbot Bernard turned to look at the King.

Although the sword-barers were fairly numerous, and scattered about the hall, they did not in fact represent more than a quarter of those present, it could be seen after a moment’s scanning. Some indeed were quick to sheathe their weapons again, when they perceived the frowns of the majority. Those who persisted with the naked steel and shouting were mainly younger men, hot-heads. But not all. There were some notable and more mature figures amongst them.

Sinking back in his chair, though his brows were black, Bruce gestured to de Linton to hold his peace, and then turned, to nod to Sir Gilbert Hay, at his other side.

That man, Lord High Constable of Scotland, was nothing loth.

His hands had been itching on his hilt. With a sweep he now drew his own great brand, and held it out straight before him, menacingly.

“Hear you!” he cried.

“I, Gilbert, Great Constable of this realm, alone may carry a naked sword in the presence of our liege lord the King. All others who do so can be held guilty of lise majestie, even treason! Put back your steel, every man. In the name of the King!” For so modest and normally quiet a warrior, Gibbie Hay’s voice sounded almost like thunder.

None disobeyed. But one spoke back-Sir William de Soulis, Lord of Liddesdale, recently appointed Governor of Berwick in place of the Steward. This had been one of Bruce’s innumerable attempts to create unity and harmony in his realm-for de Soulis held that he should be Warden of the Marches, instead of Douglas, since Liddesdale formed part of the Borderline while Douglasdale did not; moreover, as Hereditary Butler and distantly of the blood royal, he was senior in rank as in age.

“His Grace the King has no reason to fear these swords, my lord Constable!” he called.

“All have been drawn in his service times a many. Which is more than can be said of some -of those present!

But they are good, just and sufficient title to the lands which we hold, nevertheless, gained by the sword and held by the sword. As, indeed, is His Grace’s kingdom!”

There was a breath-held silence at such bold words, until Hay

answered.

“That is as may be, Sir William. But you know well, as do all here, that it is not lawful, indeed is a notable offence, to draw sword in the presence of the monarch, unless commanded to do so.

Only the Constable may do so, for His Grace’s protection. Must I protect His Grace from you sir?”

“That will not be necessary, Sir Gilbert. As, equally, all well know,” the other returned coolly.

“Sir William is right, nevertheless, Sire,” another voice spoke up-and a significant one. For this was Sir David de Brechin, the King’s own nephew, like Moray, by another half-sister, a daughter of the Countess of Carrick and the Lord of Kilconquhar. He was a highly popular individual, winsomely handsome, champion at games and tourneys, and sometimes styled the Flower of Chivalry.

“By sword we took lands from the King’s enemies, while fighting in his cause. Should other title, mere papers, be required of us?”

“Aye, Sire,” still another cried, “and why is our title to such lands being now questioned? From those who have shed their blood for you!” That was Sir Gilbert Malherbe of Dunipace, who, indeed, had shed no blood of his own.

“Is it to take these lands back from us, to give to highly-placed traitors who now surround Your Grace’s throne?” Brechin shouted.

Uproar shook the abbey refectory.

Bruce, who preferred as far as possible to leave the conduct of such

meetings to the officers concerned, and not to interfere, nevertheless raised his hand towards the Chancellor.

“Since you have addressed me, Nephew, with my lord Chancellor’s acceptance I shall answer you,” he said calmly-however inwardly he raged.

“This assize into title is necessary, for the common weal of this my kingdom. The holding of much land is in dispute, claimed by more than one liege or vassal, fought over, to the disturbance of my peace. Marches between lands and estates are often undefined. Tenants know not to whom to pay their rents.

Some are paying twice over, threatened by these same swords you shamefully brandished! My subjects, whom I, the King, am sworn to protect. As I shall. Loyal barons of mine are at each other’s throats over handfuls of acres of ground, brave fighters acting like hucksters! To the troubling and weakening of this realm, and the harassing of my judges. This must not continue. The purpose of this Convention is not to take land from any. That will be for parliament to decide, if it is necessary. It is but to establish who can show best right and title to what. I will not have my lieges snarling over my land like curs over a bone!” He paused, gazing round him sternly.

“Nor will I hear talk of traitors in my royal presence-for past trespasses which I, in parliament, have forgiven and wiped clean. Understand it-or bear my most sore displeasure.”

There was a long silence. Even though the King had not raised his voice, and spoken almost conversationally, none there failed to recognise the steely grip on the royal temper, and what it could mean should that grip weaken. As Robert Bruce grew older, his anger was demonstrated less and less; but it was sensed the more alarmingly beneath his self-imposed restraint. And was the more terrifying. These were brave men, fighters who had spoken; but they would have been foolhardy so indeed had they pressed their case further, there and then.

“So be it,” Bruce nodded, sitting back.

“Sir Gilbert-overlook the drawn swords this once, if you please. Let all proceed in order.

My lord Chancellor-continue.”

Moistening his lips, Abbot Bernard went on to outline the procedure whereby every landholder would present himself, in due order, before the earl and sheriff of whatever earldom and county his lands were situate, with his proofs; and all who might dispute such claims should likewise so present themselves. All in different chambers of the abbey. Clerks would take due and proper note of all. Where dispute still prevailed, and the claimants could not accept the earl’s or sheriffs ruling, appeal could be made to judges appointed by the crown. And in final instance, if such was necessary, to the King himself. Such decisions and judgements to be laid before a parliament to be called for later in the year, at Scone, where was the Moot-hill of the Scots realm, traditional scene of landed exchange, tenure and grant age This by order of the King’s Grace.

This businesslike statement had the effect, as intended, of calming tempers and damping down histrionics. There would undoubtedly be much debate and many hot words in the various abbey apartments thereafter; but meantime, and in the presence of the monarch, order prevailed.

As de Linton, finished, looked towards the throne, Bruce raised his hand again, to still the murmur of talk.

“My lords, my friends, my comrades all,” he said, in a different

tone.

“Before you disperse about this business, there is another matter which requires your attention. A matter of great import. As all know, our neighbours of England, whom we have given cause to heed our love of liberty and freedom, have turned in their extremity to the Pope for aid in their assault on our realm. Unfortunately His Holiness, insufficiently informed as to our history, our ancient kingdom and our independence, has believed the lies told him by King Edward, and …”