The Steps to the Empty Throne

Bruce frowned. “

“Fore God—we shall look into this!” He turned, to hurry back for his horse. They rode hastily back to the Mill of Fullarton, where the insurgent leaders were gathered.

They heard upraised voices even before they entered the musty smelling place.

It took some time for them to gather what was in debate—that it was not now whether to attack or not, but in fact whether to stand fast, retire, or make terms. Shocked, the young men demanded what this meant.

Many of the others seemed actually to welcome their arrival, as opportunity to expound their views and seek support. Out of the declamation and persuasion, they learned that a new situation had arisen.

Clifford had sent an envoy from Kilmarnock, a Scot, one Sir Archibald Livingstone. He had brought two messages. One, the main body of the English foot, allegedly now fifty thousand strong, was less than thirty miles away, having already won through the Mennock Pass. And secondly, that he, Clifford, well understood mat what had prompted this revolt of the Scots lords was the command, issued from London, mat all Scots nobles, like their English counterparts, should forthwith muster men and, under heads of families or their heirs, bring them to join and assist King Edward in his war against the French. This, the Earl of Surrey, Viceroy for Scotland, recognised to be not only unpopular, but mistaken policy, and bound to provoke serious misgivings in Scotland, the French war being scarcely more popular in England. He, Clifford, therefore, and Sir Henry Percy, Sheriff of Ayr, had the Viceroy’s authority to declare those Scots lords and knights who had assembled in arms in protest against this policy, if they yielded now, dispersed their forces, and gave certain assurances for their future good and loyal behaviour, would be received back into the King’s peace without further penalty. Moreover, the Earl of Surrey undertook to try to persuade King Edward such commands for Scots levies for the French war should be withdrawn.

All this took some time to be enunciated, by many mouths, with much interpolation, question and refutation.

Douglas’s strong voice prevailed over all, eventually.

“It is a trick, I tell you!” he cried.

“A ruse, to have us yield. Without fighting. This, of going to war in France. Have you heard of it?

Have any? He would cozen us.”

“Why should he? With his force. With fifty thousand and more, need he trick us?”

“The English, it may be, want no revolt in Scotland, while Edward and his main might is in France,” Lindsay declared, “Clifford and Percy have men enough to beat us, to destroy us here. But they would rather have peace. Not have to fight.”

“Aye—we cannot win. Not against fifty thousand. I say they are right,” Sir John Stewart of Bonkill said.

“It is madness to fight!”

“Better to make for Glasgow, while there is yet time.”

“If they would treat with us, we are fools to reject it…”

Douglas managed to shout them all down.

“Fools, aye! If we yield! We have a strong position. They are not over-eager to attack.

The people of the land are for us. Would you surrender without a blow?

Could you raise your heads after, if you did?”

“Not only our heads, yes—but our arms, my lord,” the Steward intervened thickly.

“Do you not see it? At this present we cannot prevail. We may hold off Clifford and Percy, with their horse. But when the fifty thousand foot come up, we are lost. I had been of the opinion we should hasten northwards, with our force intact. But now, I think we might be better to accept these terms. And fight another day. They are easy terms, are they not?”

“So say I,” Lindsay concurred.

“These are easy terms, yes.

Why they should make them so easy, I know not…”

“A trick, I say!” Douglas insisted.

“It may be so. But what are we disadvantaged? They make this excuse for us—this of us rebelling because we do not wish to take our men to France. Which none of us had so much as heard of, by the Mass I This must mean they do not want a clash. I say we should take advantage of this. Rise again, as the Steward says, when they and their great host are gone south again…”

”No!” That was young Andrew Moray, in a burst of hot anger, “This is

betrayal! Did we raise the banner of freedom for this?

To yield without a blow struck? I, for one, will not do so. My lord of Carrick—will you?”

Bruce cleared his throat.

“My Lord Steward,” he said, not looking at Moray.

“This of hostages? Assurances. What is meant by that? What hostages do they want?”

“That is not certain. So Sir Richard Lundin has gone to Clifford.

To discover their mind on this. When we hear…”

“What matters it?” Moray interrupted, his normal quietness gone.

“Our position, our duty, is clear. We have taken up arms against the invader of our land. We have not been beaten. We stand in our own land, amongst our own folk. I say we cannot yield thus, whatever their terms. I was for attacking, before Percy joined up with Clifford. I was against making any move to the north. Now, I say, better that than this shameful submission” “Aye! Aye!”

“No! The Steward is right.”

“We still would have to face the fifty thousand. At Glasgow.

The weaker for moving.”

“Fools…!”

There was uproar in that mill. In it, Moray turned on his companion, urgently.

“Bruce! Why did you not speak out? You who wanted to attack? Why ask about hostages? You came here to have them fight. Not surrender. Why have you kept silent, man?”

“Because I am using my head, Andrew,” the other said.

“As others would be wise to do. This needs thinking on. Why do the English act so? It is not like them. I know them better man do you. This is a strange thing—in especial when they have a great army nearby. This finding excuse for us. But… Edward himself is far away. And Surrey is a very different man …”

“Dear God you would not submit, man? Surrender?”

“Submit! Surrender? These are but words, I tell you. There are times to fight. And times to talk. If the English wish to talk, I say, let us talk. And fight another day, when we are in better case.

It may be the Steward and Lindsay are right. Today, I fear, we cannot win. So let us talk.”

“This is strange talk,” Moray insisted.

“From you. Less than honest, I think! There is something in all this, more than you say. You see more in this than these others?”

Bruce took his time to answer.

“It could mean so much. Some too

thing new. Something that could transform all Scotland’s state.

Clifford, Percy, Surrey, would not dare to send such message about this of the French war being unpopular unless it was indeed so. Unless they knew that Edward had indeed made a great mistake.

Unless, I think, there was near to revolt in England itself.

Edward has been long at war. All his reign he has been making war. Against Ireland, Wales, Scotland. Now France. It may be that his own people at last have had enough of their blood shed, their treasure spent. If they are turning, at last—then all could be changed, for Scotland. Do you not see it? We should not fight the English, then—but rather aid them.”

Moray shook his head, bewildered.

“This is beyond my understanding .”

There was more talk, continuing argument, and no decision.

Then there was an interruption. Wallace and Graham arrived-and immediately the scene was changed. Decisions crystallised, hardened. Wallace was like that. No half-measures or uncertainties survived his presence.

“My lords, my lords!” he cried, stilling all other voices.

“What is this I hear? I spoke with Lundin. On his way to Clifford. Not only will you not attack, he says. But you talk of submission. I cannot believe this is true. Tell me that he has taken leave of his wits, my good lords!”