The Steps to the Empty Throne

“Then, sir—you reduce them I If you can. You have the men assembled, I hear. Your North is not devastated. And you do not have to watch a hundred miles of Border.”

“Will Bruce have Comyn free his castle of Lochmaben for him!”

“Reduce Stirling first, and we shall see!”

“Very well. I shall move against Stirling, forthwith. And when Edward marches, we are the nearer at hand.”

Bruce narrowed his eyes, almost spoke, but did not.

“My lords,” Lamberton said, “is it wise to waste your strength on these castles? When King Edward crosses the Border it will be in mighty force. We shall not be battling for castles, but for our very lives. Using the land against him again, tiring him, starving him, wearing him down. I see little virtue in seeking to take these castles, which he may be able to retake in but a few months time.”

“There speaks a clerk, beat before he so much as draws sword!” Comyn scoffed.

“You do not talk of war, my lord Bishop, but or brigandage. Think you I have mustered 20,000 men-and will muster more—to skulk and hide, to pick and peck? We shall face Edward like men-but choosing our battlefield, not his. As Wallace did at Falkirk, a mis-fought field if ever there was one. Let Bruce here slink and stab if he will. Comyn will fight to win, not to weary.”

“Brave words, my lord,” Bruce grated.

“And where do you think to hold Edward thus? Where do you choose your battlefield?”

The other grinned.

“Why, at Stirling belike! The best place, is it not? In all the land. Even Wallace could win, there. Aye, I shall hold the English again at Stirling. And meantime take Stirling’s castle.”

“Abandoning all the South to Edward!”

Comyn shrugged.

“That is your responsibility, is it not? If you would have my counsel, it is that you should retire behind Forth yourself. The Bishop here has admitted you cannot hold Edward in open battle. South of Forth it may be true. Only harass and impede. That is not sufficient. I say give him the south to starve in, then fight at Stirling. Fight to win.”

There was a murmur of agreement from his supporters.

“No! Only a man lacking heart would say that. The best of Scotland is in the South. The richest, fairest land. The greatest number of the people …”

“And the Bruce lands!”

“You would abandon all this to the invader? I say no.”

“How many men have you assembled? To face Edward?”

Bruce cleared his throat.

“I do not keep many so assembled.

There is overmuch for men to do in this stricken land. But in a week I can muster 7,000. In two weeks, four times that.”

“Can? Hope that you can! Will Edward give you two weeks?

I prefer my army as men, not as promises! With my men, then, I shall assail Stirling Castle. With your promises, my lord, do what you will!” Comyn rose to his feet, as though he had granted an interview and it was now over.

“My Lord Privy Seal—where are the papers to sign? These plaguey papers…!”

Bruce was actually trembling with suppressed rage and the effort to restrain his hot temper, the fists gripping his golden earl’s sword-belt clenching and unclenching. Lamberton, watching them both closely, intervened.

“It is probably well decided, my lords. One policy to support the other. But not only my Lord of Badenoch will be at Stirling.

Holy Church has made shift to muster men from its own lands.

No mighty host, but sufficient to achieve much. A balance, shall we say? Four thousand of them, 1,500 horsed. And Wallace has lent us Scrymgeour, the Standard-Bearer, to lead. With Wallace’s own host—now 15,000, I am told—my lord of Carrick’s rear should be secure.”

Both lords looked at the Primate quickly, at that—and Comyn went on looking. Neither commented, though a little of the tension eased out of Bruce.

“The papers for signature, my lords Guardian,” Master William Comyn said, setting down a sheaf of documents before them on the table.

“The lead for the sealing is heating below…”

Later, with the Northerners gone, Bruce, in his own small chamber again, turned to Lamberton.

“It is good to hear of your Church host. A comfort.” Bruce took a pace or two about the room.

“Wallace …?” he said.

“You return to St. Andrews, my lord Bishop? Just across Tay from

Wallace at Dundee. You will see him? Soon? Good. Then, will you

tell him, from me, secretly, that we need not look for Edward’s invasion. Not this spring.”

“Not…? No invasion …?”

“No. Not this year, I think. Edward will be otherwise employed.

He weds again.”

“Dear God! Edward will wed? Soon?”

“Aye. He goes on a pilgrimage to St. Albans. In preparation.

Weds at Canterbury. This summer. To the Princess Margaret of France.

I fear we risk losing our French allies!”

“Saints cherish us—this is news indeed! You are sure of it? No idle tale?”

“I have it… from one I trust. Close to Edward’s person.”

“So! Then … then we have time. We have been given time, precious time. Thank God, I say!” The Bishop paused.

“But, my lord-you did not tell him. My lord of Badenoch. You said naught of it…!”

“I said naught,” the younger man agreed heavily.

“Better that he does not know, I think.”

“Is that right, my lord? He is your fellow-Guardian.”

“Right? I do not know if it is right. But I deem it wise. Let Comyn learn it in his own time. Tell Wallace. But others need not know. Yet. I require the time more than does Comyn.”

When Lamberton left him, Bruce asked him to have sent up to him paper, a quill and ink. Also a lamp, for the window was small and the light beginning to fade.

It was dark long before the young man finished. Letter-writing did not come easily to him, and in his vehemence he had to send for three more quills before he was finished. He wrote:

My lady, I do greatly thank you. Your letter came to me this tenth day of April, at the Torwood of Stirling, and I received it with much favour. Your God-speed and goodwill I do treasure. And, I think, do much require. For I am in sorry state here. But the better for your heed for me.

I counsel you to beware of Guy de Beauchamp. He is a man of ill living. Do not consider him. Beware, I say, of any whom Edward would have you to wed. He would but use you, as he uses all, for his own purposes.

The word of his marriage is of great moment and does much aid to my mind’s ease. For this I do thank you. Even Edward is scarce like to come warring to Scotland quickly after his wedding.

The more surely in that his wife will be sister to King Philip, with whom we are in treaty of mutual aid. I have no doubt that treaty will be brought to nothing hereafter. But meantime it stands.

This gives us time, in Scotland. But God knows, not I, whether I can achieve what is required, in time.

You say well when you conceive that my present state will not bring me joy-Being Joint Guardian of Scotland with this man John Comyn is so ill a fate as to drive me all but from my wits. I think that you know of him, a masterful man of ill tongue, respecting none. But strong, in his own parts, as well as heading the power fullest house in this realm. We have never agreed, nor ever shall. To act with him in amity is not possible. To bear with him is beyond all supporting. Yet I needs must, on the face of it, if the kingdom is not to fall apart before Edward. Only Comyn and Bruce, it seems to be, can so unite the lords and barons of the land into one, and so oppose England. But the good God alone knows if it is possible, for I do not.

Comyn will be king, if he may. Nothing is more sure. That would be an ill day for Scotland, and I would die first. For it would be the end of Bruce, I think. Anything better than that.