The Steps to the Empty Throne

“Wife? Then you would wed me, my lord?” That came a little more quickly than what had gone before.

“What else, woman? Elizabeth de Burgh lies thus, and asks?”

“Elizabeth de Burgh loves. And gives. And takes. But… marriage.

That is other. That is what King Edward desires. Now.

You may not wish to seem to humour him?”

“Aye. Edward would use us, no doubt. We must see that he does not.

Or only insofar as it serve us.”

“That is why I was cool to you. Before the Queen. I would not have you forced into marrying me! I have that much pride…”

“And a little more, I trunk. But forced into marrying me you will be I By myself I By you. None other. If you will have me?

For not only do I greatly love you, Elizabeth, my heart. But I need

you by my side. Always. Will you wed the ruined Earl of Carrick, Ulster’s daughter?”

She ran her fingers lightly over his face.

“Perhaps I might.

Indeed, I feel wed to you now. This, it may be, is our true marriage.

Yes, Elizabeth de Burgh will wed Robert de Bruce. And hold him fast Till death do them part.” She shivered.

He made to draw the cloaks and clothing closer about them.

“It was not cold.” she said.

“It was a sort of joy.”

“Joy?” Suddenly he was sombre, lying there.

“I fear mat being wife to Robert Bruce will not be all joy. I am scarce the sort of husband to offer you peace and comfort, lass. I was born to trouble, I think. I have lived with it for long. And see scant signs of betterment ahead. Whatever Edward promises…”

“Am I one to shirk trouble, think you? Ulster’s daughter?”

“No. No, I think not.”

“And Ulster’s daughter can bring the Earl of Carrick more than her heart and body. My father is the greatest lord in Ireland.

He can field more gallowglasses than any man in all Scotland. He is rich, with a score of castles, and manors by the hundred. My dowry will not be scanty. And, allied to Ulster, Bruce will not be weakened.”

“Aye. This I have not failed to think on. But … Edward must have thought of it also. And your father is his closest friend.”

“Close, but not servile. He has opposed the King many times.

Is indeed well placed to do so. He is no man’s puppet.”

“Yet I swear Edward believes this match to his benefit.”

“He can make mistakes. He has made many. He misjudges your coming to Linlithgow, does he not?”

“That is my hope. But—who knows? Edward is … Edward.

He is no fool. I am at a loss to know what he plans for me. Not only in this of the marriage. It is strange. He gets me here, offering great things. Many things. To my advantage. And when I am at my lowest. Least danger to him. Apparently forgiving all my rebellion. Why? It is not like him. He would use me against Comyn, of course ..

.”

“Yes. I think that he sees you as the best way of dividing Scotland.

So my father believes. If he is to keep Scotland down, without each year having to come campaigning in war, he must keep the Scots divided against themselves…”

“Always we are that, by the Rude I Without Edward’s aid!”

“Perhaps. But that means that one side must not win in this struggle.

For if it does, the land will be united behind the winner.

At this present, your enemy Comyn grows too strong. Matters have gone his way, while you have suffered and lost ground. So Edward would build you up again. Lest all men nock to Comyn. Who, it is said, would try for the throne. This above all must be stopped. The King would even make you Governor of Scotland, I think. His governor. Or so says the Queen. But, get you too strong, in turn; let Comyn be brought low—and he will bring you down. It is simple. He has come to know the Scots.

How you ever fight amongst yourselves. So he uses you.”

“Aye. It could be . But, offering so much? You, in marriage.

Why so much?”

“He is a strange man. I believe he has a true fondness for you. Of a sort. He would bind you to him if he could. If you would play his game, he would cherish you, I think. But you would wholly have to accept his rule of Scotland.”

“That I will never do. I am Bruce.”

“He still must believe he can win you, bribe you, frighten you, hold you. He will work on you, seek to mould you, as a potter moulds his clay. Use you and mould you.”

“I am no clay to be moulded. I will watch him always. Like a hawk. And seek to use him. Make him win Scotland for me I With your help, my dear.”

“So you stay? Here, with Edward. In what he calls his peace?”

“So long as I may. With profit. And you, my wife. Is that not what you would wish? Why you sent the message I should come? By St. John.”

“It is, yes. But—there are dangers in it. For you. Let the King once suspect you are but waiting to turn against him, and he will be ruthless. Without mercy. However fond he may seem.”

“I know it. And you? What of you? If you are my wife?”

“I shall be Elizabeth de Bruce,” she said simply.

“Aye, bless you. But it could be to your grievous hurt. What would you have me to do?”

“I would have you to be what you are. To do what you must.

I do not like puppets. That dance to any man’s strings. Or woman’s!”

“Or woman’s …? I think, my love … that I am prepared to dance!

Now. To your string, again ..!” His voice had gone thick, husky.

She gurgled willing laughter. Affairs of state and dynasties went

down before the assault of still more elemental forces.

They were wed within the month, in the handsome Church of St. Michael, which shared the green hill with Linlithgow Castle, in ceremonial and magnificence seldom seen in Scotland—all at the King’s own planning and expense. Edward himself aiding her father to lead the bride to the altar. Old Bishop Wishan of Glasgow officiated, assisted, of all men, by Bishop Beck of Durham—Bruce acceding with a sort of grim forbearance which he was coming to wear like a garment. He would have wished his friend William Lamberton to have married them, but the Primate was still in France; anyway, Edward might not have permitted it in a protege” of Wallace. For, whatever else he might be prepared to wink at meantime, he would not countenance the man Wallace as other than a lowborn outlaw. No fewer than fifteen earls attended, and the King may have rubbed his hands that four of them were Scots who had fought against him—Atholl, Lennox, Menteith and Strathearn—this not counting the child Earl of Mar who acted page to his uncle. James the Steward was there, with his lady, Egidia de Burgh, sister of Ulster. Also many of the sore-battered lords of Bruce’s party. Of the other faction, needless to say, none came or were invited. It was noticeable mat few Scots churchmen graced the occasion; less so that none of Wallace’s people came.

Seldom can there have been a marriage so politically contrived, where bride and groom cooperated so satisfactorily.

PART THREE

Chapter Sixteen

Spring came a deal earlier and more kindly to Southern England than it ever did to Scotland, Bruce noted. Already, in March, there was a lightness in the air, a stirring in the woodlands and copses, and a trilling of larks above the rich Essex plain, such as would not be seen in Scotland for a month yet. It was the first spring that he had ever spent in the fair, fat English countryside, despite the presence of Bruce properties here, and he savoured all with a sort of rueful appreciation, all the signs of peace and security, of wealth and ease and genial living mat he saw around him. Rueful, for settled and assured as it was, it was all ephemeral, hardly real, for him. This was but an interlude; and though something in his nature responded to it all, he knew that it was not for him, in fact ever, suitably as he and his might appear to blend with the goodly scene, there and then.