His voice was drowned in the growl of men, a menacing sound.
Hear me, my friends. His Holiness, I say, believing these things against us, has pronounced his anathema against us, as a people and nation. I say, hear me! Your turn comes. While my lord Bishop of St. Andrews makes due and proper enquiry as to the present Popes appointment and authority, it is nevertheless necessary that he should be fully informed of the truth as to Scotlands state.
Therefore the Chancellor has drawn up a letter, a declaration, to send
to His Holiness. It is long, but resounding. And I, and the Primate,
have heard and agree every word. Now it is for you to hear it. And,
if you agree, to append your names and seals. All of you. For this
letter is from you, the temporality of this kingdom, to inform the Pope
of who you are and what you are, and who you have freely chosen as your
king. But, above all, what you will pay for liberty, freedom, the
freedom to live your lives according to your own lands laws and
customs, and to choose your own rule and governance…
The crash of acclaim and applause and feet-stamping shook the abbey, and continued.
Bruce gave them their head. My friends, he went on, at length,
smiling a little, I perceive our temper agrees. We demand to be allowed to belabour each other-but woe to him who seeks to belabour us from outside the realm! This we have sufficiently demonstrated. Now it is your turn to enlighten, to declare. My lord Chancellor will read out this letter. Heed it well. Each word has been well chosen. It is my hope but not my command-never my command-that all here will subscribe to it. That it may go as a united declaration from this Scottish nation, since you, in your persons, represent all the people of the kingdom. But if you wish not to subscribe, to lend your names to it, you must not do so. If our vaunted freedom means anything, then each is free not to agree. No steps will be taken against any who abstain. This on my royal word. My lord Chancellor-pray read your letter.
Never, undoubtedly, had so many hardened warriors and men of action listened to so long a composition and with such close attention.
But after a few snarls at kissing the Popes feet and suchlike, there was a notable and complete silence. That is, until the item about expelling even the King himself, should he fail to uphold Scotlands liberty, was reached, when there was a considerable commotion, exchange of comment, staring at the throne, and nodding of solemn heads; and when that dealing with their willingness to die for freedom came up, and the refectory throbbed with vehement chorused assent. The final indictment of the Pope himself, should he ignore all this, raised not a few eyebrows, but the majority swallowed it without objection, some with glee. At the end, a positive storm of affirmation broke out, and maintained. For a non-letter-writing and not very literate company, the enthusiasm for this lengthy epistle was extraordinary.
Exchanging glances with Lamberton, Bruce at last raised hand.
Who, then, will lend his name and seal to this letter?
A forest of hands shot up, many with fists clenched, and a roar of I will! I will! resounded.
Those of contrary mind, to declare it.
No single arm or voice was lifted.
It is well. Very well. The clerks will take names, and instruct in the business of sealing. Two copies. To work, my friends. This convention stands adjourned …
Chapter Nineteen
Egged on by Elizabeth, the King was planning both a new house and a ship. He was less than keen on either, to tell the truth, but the Queen was urgent and persuasive. She was anxious to have his mind occupied with forward-looking projects, plans assuming that there were many long years of active life ahead of him yet. For the fact was that, when the pressures of national emergency and immediate crisis of one sort or another lessened, as now, and Bruce had time to brood, his attitude to the future tended to become dark and cloudy. Indeed, whether it was the need for action which kept his recurrent sickness at bay, or the lack of it which made of his mental state more apt breeding-ground for the distemper of body, such times as he was not occupied with vigorous activities and urgent demands on his attention, his illness regularly grew worse.
Not merely in the mind. The red itch spread in ever larger patches on his skin, vomiting and shivering became more frequent and violent, and the accompanying lassitude and weakness grew. It was Elizabeths concern, therefore, to keep her husband involved in activity-since it was equally true that, the more demanding the problems, the more was required of him, the less evident became his bodily troubles. She could not engineer crises of state; but at least she could try to entangle him in domestic preoccupations.
She used the fact that Bruce had never really taken kindly to Dunfermline -although she herself liked it well. Brought up amongst hills, by the more colourful Western Sea, he found life too green and tame for his liking. Moreover, the older he grew, the more Celtic in sympathy he became, his mothers strain getting the upper hand. And life, like Lothian, was scarcely Celtic in its aura.
He could hardly be said to pine for the Celtic West; but undoubtedly his preferences lay there. Shrewdly, therefore, Elizabeth fostered them.
He should build a new house. Not another great castle-since his policy still was rather to demolish all such, in case they might be used against him-but a comfortable house to live in, graciously, by the Western Sea, where he could look out over the colourful skerry-strewn, weed-hung bays and sounds rimmed by blue mountains, where he could hunt and fish and hawk, and talk with the seannachies and bards and story-tellers of the Celtic environment.
She was at pains not to make this programme seem like that for an
ageing man-for he was, in fact, still not forty-seven years old. So
she stressed the activities which could conveniently be carried on from such a base-the sailing amongst the Western Isles and Highland coasts in especial, for it was one of Bruces great dreams to fully integrate his Highland and Low! and divisions within the realm. He should have a special ship built, large enough to carry him and a small court including herself-in reasonable comfort; yet small enough and suitably designed to wheel across the narrow isthmuses and tarberts with which that seaboard abounded. In it he could sail all the Hebridean seas he loved, keep in closer touch with Angus of the Isles and other island chiefs -even with Christina MacRuarie. She was cunning, was Elizabeth de Burgh.
Because he was still the monarch, however, such western domicile of delight could not be too far away from the core and centre of his kingdom, the Stirling-Scone-St. Andrews triangle. At need, he must be able to travel quickly thence, and others from there reach him readily. Therefore, with mountain passes, rushing rivers, winter snows and the like to consider, the nearest Highland seaboard was indicated. Bute, his son-in-law the Stewards island home in the Firth of Clyde, was thought of, and its Rothesay Castle was in better state than most; but actually to be confined to an island was risky, and the King could be storm-bound at some most inconvenient moment. Nearby, however, on the northern mainland shore of Clyde, looking towards the mountains of Cowal, Gareloch and the Kyles of Bute, might serve. This was Lennox territory-and his old friend Earl Malcolm eager to cooperate.