The Steps to the Empty Throne

Without further leave-taking than the Lord of Badenoch stormed out of Tor Wood’s hall.

His fellow-Guardians eyed each other.

“I cannot, longer bear with this,” Bruce said slowly.

“You will have to find another Guardian for Scotland, my friend.”

“And leave Comyn in power? Over you?”

“I cannot bear with him longer. You must find a way out, my lord Bishop. And quickly. Before one of us slays the other …!”

The corporate sigh that swept over the crowded Great Kirk of Rutherglen sunny May morning of 1300 was eloquent, however disparate were the elements of which it was composed -regret, satisfaction, alarm, I-told-you-so. Men had long seen this coming, in one form or another; indeed had come to this parliament expecting no less. But the significant and ominous implications for Scotland could be lost on none.

The Earl of Carrick, standing in front of the right hand of the three Guardians’ chairs set facing the nave, at the chancel steps, raised his hand for quiet.

“Therefore, I say I can no longer, in honest and good faith, serve this kingdom as Guardian. I do hereby lay down that burden and duty, to this parliament. For the better rule and governance of the realm.” Turning, he bowed stiffly to Bishop Lamberton beside him, and stepped a little way apart.

The Red Comyn smiled thinly, and played with his jewelled dirk-hilt.

Heavily the Primate spoke, from the central chair.

“This decision is to Scotland’s loss. My lord’s mind is made up, and we must needs accept it. But… since the Earl of Carrick remains what he is, head of the greatest house south of Forth, and an aspirant to the throne when it shall become vacant, it is, I say, inconceivable that he should be esteemed of lesser rank than the Guardians. The SouthWest cannot be governed lacking Bruce’s aid and participation.

Accordingly I move that my lord retains the style and title of a Guardian, while not actively sustaining the office. This for the benefit of all.”

There was no lack of reaction to that, acclaim from the Bruce supporters and the churchmen, dissent and scowls from the opposing faction. Comyn himself did not scowl, but he did look very keenly, thoughtfully, from Lamberton to Bruce, and then flicked a hand.

“Here we are in strange case,” he said.

“Bruce, it seems, desires to retain the benefits of office, without the cares and responsibilities.”

“What benefits?” Bruce jerked.

“Not so,” Lamberton declared.” It is a matter of seemliness.

The Guardianship represents the throne. It is seemly that the Earl of Carrick should remain in name therein. To the greater authority of the office as a whole.”

“Words again I Forms I Styles! When what the realm needs are swords.

And deeds!”

“Your own party have a new nomination for such form and style, have they not, my lord?”

“Ha!” Comyn said slowly.

“You would deal and chaffer, my lord Bishop! Is that it? You offer substance for this shadow? Very well. Accept Sir Ingram de Umfraville as third Joint Guardian, in Bruce’s place. And my lord of Carrick may keep such style and title as pleases him!”

“I desire no such empty style,” Bruce ground out.

“I retire from the Guardianship. And do commend to this parliament Sir John de Soulis, Warden of the Middle March, in my place.”

“Wait! Wait, I beg of you,” Lamberton said, though his tone held authority rather than begging.

“Here is cause for closer consideration than this. We esteem Sir John and Sir Ingram. But the status of the Guardianship is here involved. The name of an earl of Scotland should grace the office still…”

“It did not when Wallace was Guardian,” somebody pointed

“Wallace was sole Guardian. And had to give it up because he lacked sufficient authority.”

“My cousin of Buchan is earl, as well as Constable. And would serve suitably,” Comyn observed lightly.

“No! Not that,” the Lord of Crawford cried.

“Two Comyns we can never accept.”

There was uproar in the church.

Comyn stood up, to quell it, “I say then,” he shouted, glaring menacingly around, “appoint Sir Ingram de Umfraville third Guardian, and allow the Earl of Carrick the style but not the power. And then, a God’s name, have done with it! There is more important matter to decide. And to do. Edward has rejected our truce, and musters again at York. Galloway has risen in civil war. And the Earl of Carrick has done little to quell it. There is man’s work to be done-not clerkly bickering over titles! Have done, I say.” He sat down.

It was cleverly done, the vigorous lead of a practical soldier.

Many cheered it. Yet it gave Comyn what he desired, while seeming to go along with Lamberton’s suggestion. De Umfraville was a valiant and influential knight, cousin to the Earl of Angus and a kinsman of both Baliol and Comyn. He was firmly of the Comyn faction. Bruce, having word that Umfraville’s name was to be put forward, had nominated Sir John de Soulis, an equally renowned warrior, Lord of Liddesdale and one of his own supporters. On a vote, with the churchmen supporting Bruce, de Soulis might have won. Now, in order to have Bruce merely retain the name of Guardian, Lamberton was seemingly bartering away the effective power. Bruce doubted the wisdom of it-although he was only too well aware of the advantages to himself of keeping equal rank with Comyn.

The thing was accepted, since most were prepared to trust Lamberton’s judgement. Sir Ingram de Umfraville was appointed Guardian, and came up to the chancel to sit in Bruce’s vacated chair. The other remained standing, a little way off.

Comyn was not long in showing his hand. After some formal business, he

announced that the internal strife in Galloway must be put down, since

it endangered the security of the realm and invited English aggression

there. Stirling Castle being now in his hands, and his forces freed

from that important task, he would now personally lead a campaign of

pacification in Galloway. With de Umfraville, of course. And added, as a cynical afterthought.

“… where my lord Constable has already preceded me, on a reconnaissance.”

That explained the absence of the Earl of Buchan from the parliament.

Bruce stood silent. Comyn intended to take over the South West, that was clear. Galloway had always been in the Bruce sphere of influence—although Buchan did own land there, the barony of Cruggleton The man was utterly unscrupulous, ruthless, unrelenting. And cunning. It was not beyond him to have engineered the Galloway disturbances himself, for this very purpose.

He implied that Bruce should have put down the trouble himself—when he knew only too well that Bruce’s forces were spread right along the eighty miles of the borderline, watching England. And had been for six weeks.

William Lamberton looked understandingly, sympathetically, over towards the younger man, but shook a warning head.

How much could a man take?

The parliament broke up. Men had come to it fearing civil war. That it had not come to this, as yet, was to Bruce’s credit.

But Comyn was in the ascendant now, for all to see.

Sick at heart Bruce rode south again to rejoin his brothers commanding the long slender line that watched the Border.

Chapter Fourteen

The campaign of 1300 was all fought in Galloway and the SouthWest. That it reached no further was the measure of the Scots success; but it left that great area in ruins once more. The English invaded from Carlisle, on Midsummer’s Day, after a delay which almost certainly was partly accounted for by the Pope’s remonstrances on the rejection of the Scots truce offer, reinforced by Wallace’s representations at Rome. But Edward’s fears of excommunication were at length overborne by his consuming hatred of the Scots, and when he marched, he did so with a magnificent army of over 60,000. Bruce had 8,000, but they were strung along the borderline; Comyn had 15,000 in Galloway, where he had been hanging men by the score, mostly Bruce’s adherents; and Scrymgeour had the absent Wallace’s people’s army of some 13,000 more waiting in reserve on the north side of Forth.