The Vow on the Heron Page 13

  ‘But David is King. He was crowned and so was I.’

  ‘That’s true enough, my lady, but when people think they have a claim to something they try to get it.’

  ‘Do you mean this Baliol will try to take the crown away from David?’

  ‘That would never be allowed.’

  ‘The Earl of Moray will stop it and so would Black Douglas have done ... if he had been here. Never mind, the Earl of Moray will never let it happen. Tell me more of this Baliol.’

  But the woman had realized that she had already said too much. The Lady Joanna was too knowing. At one moment she seemed nothing but a child but the next she was asking questions to which perhaps it was better not to give her the answers.

  ‘I know nothing,’ said the woman pursing her lips. The old sign, thought Joanna in exasperation. They all came to that when something was becoming interesting.

  Later she heard more from another source of gossip.

  Baliol was stirring up trouble in England and the English King was not so hostile to him as might have been expected considering his sister was the Queen of Scotland.

  It seemed there were some barons who had lost their possessions through supporting the English against the Scots and being very dissatisfied were joining up with Baliol.

  It all sounded very disturbing and Joanna talked about it with David who, being two years younger than she was, listened intently and when she said she thought they might be trying to take their crowns away from them, he shook his head. They couldn’t do that because his father had been Robert the Bruce and whatever Robert the Bruce had said must be done, was done.

  ‘But he is dead,’ said Joanna. ‘He is dead like Black Douglas.’

  The thought that she would never see that fierce dark face again made her feel ready to burst into tears. She was fearful too until she remembered the Earl of Moray.

  ‘It is all right,’ she said. ‘We still have the Earl of Moray. He would never allow anyone to take our crowns away from us.’

  Moray came to see them soon after that and she asked him questions.

  When she mentioned Baliol’s name he wanted to know who had told her this. She answered that she listened and heard people talking.

  ‘Well,’ said Moray, ‘there is often trouble in countries. It very often happens that when there is a crown some people want to take it from those to whom it belongs and keep it for themselves.’

  ‘We have it though,’ said David.

  ‘Yes, my King, you have it, and on your head it shall remain while I have an arm to fight to keep it there.’

  ‘Then it will always remain there,’ declared Joanna. ‘Thank you, my lady.’

  ‘We have lost Black Douglas but we still have you,’ said Joanna. ‘I would never be afraid while we had you.’

  The Earl was touched. He kissed her hand and said he would serve his little Queen with his life.

  ‘Will this man Baliol come here to fight?’ asked Joanna. ‘He might well do that.’

  ‘He will never win,’ said David, ‘will he?’

  ‘We shall not let him,’ answered Moray.

  My brother would not let him either,’ put in Joanna.

  The Earl of Moray was silent; but Joanna did not notice. She was too absorbed in the memory which the mention of her brother’s name had brought back.

  Very soon after that Moray took his leave of them.

  ‘I shall see you soon,’ he said. ‘Whatever you hear do not be afraid. All you have to do is what I tell you. And if I say you are to go to such and such a place you know it will be for your safety and you will do it, won’t you?’

  Yes,’ said Joanna speaking for David as she so often did.

  ‘All will be well.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Joanna confidently, ‘while we have you to look after us.’

  Moray rode away to Musselburgh and a few weeks later a messenger arrived at Edinburgh Castle. He wished to see the King and the Queen.

  They knew him for one of the Earl’s squires and the gravity of his face struck terror into Joanna’s heart.

  ‘You come from my lord?’ said David.

  ‘My lord, I have sorry news. We had come from Musselburgh to Wemyss when he was taken ill suddenly. He died that very night.’

  The children were amazed. First Black Douglas and now the Earl of Moray. Their two protectors taken from them one after the other.

  They were too stunned to cry. That would come later. All they could think of now was that they had lost dear Moray.

  Nothing could seem the same again. There was a great deal of whispering. Joanna listened and in her bed at night she lay trembling because she feared something dreadful was going to happen.

  She must learn all she could. She felt so young, so ineffectual, and David was even more so.

  She was not surprised when she heard the lowered voices, when she caught the word: ‘Poison!’

  ‘No doubt he was poisoned,’ they said. ‘Edward Baliol would have men everywhere. So easy ... a little something in his food. Something in his wine. Nothing will be the same now that Moray is dead.’

  * * *

  Edward was well aware that there was going to be trouble in Scotland. He still smarted with humiliation when he remembered that campaign of his. He had been so young, so inexperienced. It would be different now, he promised himself, if the opportunity should arise.

  He often thought that he would like to carry on with his grandfather’s work. He would like to be the one to subdue Scotland; instead of which, during his father’s weak reign, Robert the Bruce had been able to consolidate his successes. But Robert the Bruce was dead and a little boy was on the throne. True he had had two strong men to stand beside him—Moray and Black Douglas—but now they were both dead.

  He was musing on affairs in Scotland when Henry de Beaumont asked leave to see him. Edward was alert. Beaumont was one of those barons whom the Scots had robbed of his possessions because he had sided with the English.

  He received him without delay.

  ‘My lord,’ he said, ‘Edward de Baliol is without. I have come to ask you if you will see him.’

  ‘Edward de Baliol’ cried the King in surprise. ‘For what purpose?’

  ‘That is something he would wish to tell you himself.’

  ‘Then I will see him.’

  Baliol! A weak son of a weak father, thought Edward. What did he want? Edward could give a quick answer to that: The crown of Scotland.

  Edward waited to hear his request.

  ‘My lord,’ said Baliol, ‘the Regents of Scotland have both died recently.’

  ‘They say Moray died of poison. Is it so?’

  ‘That, my lord, I could not say.’

  Will not, you mean, thought Edward. I’ll swear it was one of your agents who administered the fatal dose.

  ‘And Douglas, in that foolhardy action! I should have thought he would have realized that his duty lay in his own country.’

  ‘My lord, he died as he thought fit. What I have come to say to you is that Scotland is in turmoil. These two men who were governing—ably some say—are no more. You will know that the King and the Queen are but children.’

  ‘I should since one of them is my own sister.’

  Baliol flinched a little. Was it folly to ask the King of England to act against his own sister?

  ‘They have selected the Earl of Mar to take the place of Moray. He is a weakling. The state of the country is too weak for him to handle.’

  ‘And what would you have me do about it?’ asked Edward.

  ‘I would ask your help, my lord. My father was the King of Scotland. I am his heir. If you will help me to regain what is mine I will pay homage to you as my overlord.’

  Edward was silent. That would be a step in the right direction. It would take him back to the position in which his grandfather had stood. It would mean deposing his sister; it would mean dishonouring the treaty he had made; moreover he was bound to pay the Pope twenty thousand pounds if he broke the
treaty.

  ‘My lord,’ said Baliol, ‘the marriage of your sister and David Bruce has never been consummated. If I were King of Scotland there could be a dispensation. I would marry your sister. I would give you Berwick.’

  ‘Enough,’ said Edward. ‘I cannot help you. Nor can I allow you to march through England.’

  ‘Is that your final word?’

  Edward hesitated just a second or so too long and Baliol’s hopes soared.

  Edward said: ‘I shall have to put the matter before my Parliament.’

  * * *

  Edward was watchful. Meanwhile Baliol had collected together a fleet in England, and Edward had made no objections. In due course he sailed to Fife, landed at a place called Dupplin Moor and rather unexpectedly beat the assembled Scottish forces. During the battle the new Regent Earl of Mar was killed and there was nothing to stop Baliol marching on to Scone where he was crowned King of Scotland.

  David and Joanna heard of what was happening and wondered what would become of them. Joanna was of the opinion that her brother would save them.

  ‘He will come marching into Scotland,’ she said, ‘and Baliol will run for his life, you will see.’

  What did happen was that Baliol sent a messenger to them. ‘My lord,’ said the messenger, ‘the King of Scotland offers you a proposition.’

  ‘How can that be?’ asked David haughtily. ‘Iam the King of Scotland.’

  ‘It would seem no longer so, my lord,’ was the answer. ‘King Edward de Baliol sends his greetings to you and wishes you to know that if you will renounce your right to the crown he will offer you a safe conduct out of Scotland or allow you to remain in any part you wish.’

  ‘This is generous of him,’ said David with sarcasm. ‘Tell Edward de Baliol that we deplore his insolence and the Queen and I will remain where we wish in our own dominion.’

  The messenger departed and Joanna urged her young husband to write without delay to her brother. She was certain that he would come marching up to Scotland to help them.

  Baliol’s letter to the King of England arrived first. He reminded him that he was willing to marry Joanna, to increase her dower and if she declined to marry him he would pay her ten thousand pounds for her portion should she marry elsewhere. All he asked was that she resign her right to the throne of Scotland which came through David the Bruce.

  Edward was wavering. In the meantime he had received the urgent call for help from his young brother-in-law.

  He would not help him. His excuse was that some of his nobles had been deprived of their inheritance by the Scottish Kings and he could not therefore take sides against them.

  Baliol’s triumph was short lived. Many Scots loyal to the young King rose against him and attacked him with such fervour and success that the erstwhile King was obliged to abandon his recent conquest and fly to England.

  Edward allowed him to do this and even received him with certain friendliness at his Court. When the news of this reached Scotland the anger of the Scots was intense, and to show their indignation many of them resumed old tactics and crossed the Border with the object of harassing the English, burning down villages and making off with the cattle.

  Edward was not altogether displeased. This gave him the opportunity he really wanted, for the thought of setting Baliol on the Scottish throne as his puppet appealed to him. He would not fail as his father had done. There would be no Bannockburn for him. All the same there was the treaty; there was the Pope to think of; and there was the fact that his own sister was married to David the Bruce.

  But this was the opportunity to win back what had been his grandfather’s and to carry on with those plans to subdue Scotland for ever which had been the main object of Edward the First’s life.

  He had to go carefully though. He was in a delicate position. First he demanded the return of Berwick and that Scotland should render feudal homage to him.

  Young David was bewildered; so was Joanna. She had believed that as soon as he heard she was in distress Edward would come to her. He had been so fond of her. He had kissed her so tenderly on parting and had told her that she must always remember that she was his sister and they were friends for ever. Did he mean that she must help him if he needed her but if she needed him that was another matter?

  David, primed by his ministers, was given a speech to learn. Joanna listened to him as he practised it. It was depressing that her brother Edward was seen in the light of an enemy.

  ‘Neither my father nor any of his ancestors acknowledged submission to England, nor will I consent to it ...’ David’s voice droned on. ‘If any other prince should do us wrong, you should defend us, from the love you bear your sister and our Queen.’

  Joanna could not bear to listen. Edward! she thought. Oh Edward, how can you do this to us! She wished that she could go to him, see him, explain to him. If only she could talk to Philippa.

  The Scots had broken their treaty, declared Edward. They had raided Border towns and they had refused to give up Berwick which Baliol had promised him. If he did not act they would soon be marching further south into England. He was justified in what he was about to do.

  He wanted to vindicate himself. He wanted to wipe out for ever the depressing memory of his first campaign against the Scots.

  While he was preparing his armies for the march north Philippa declared that she could not let him go alone. Edward was delighted. His grandmother had accompanied his grandfather on his campaigns and he was growing more and more eager to be like him.

  ‘There are the children,’ said Philippa uneasily.

  ‘Ah,’ replied Edward. ‘You will have to choose between us.’

  It was the saddest choice Philippa had had to make during her married life. There was one characteristic she had observed about Edward. He was a faithful husband, she was sure, but she had seen his eyes follow attractive women and she had noticed that he liked to lead them in the dance, to linger at their sides. There were great temptations of that nature in the life of a King.

  Edward loved her deeply. He gave evidence of that. But at the same time she would be a very foolish wife indeed if she allowed temptation to come his way while she herself was far away from him.

  Edward was so vital, so virile. He was so handsome. All women must admire him; and in addition to his extreme masculinity and his outstanding good looks he had about him that aura of royalty which so many women found irresistible.

  Philippa came to the conclusion that she would place her children in good care and follow her husband into battle.

  She chose guardians whom she thought could be trusted and sent the children to the palace of Clarendon; and she set out for Scotland with Edward.

  * * *

  When they arrived in Knaresborough there occurred another of those incidents in which Philippa was able to show her kindly nature, and once more she saved someone from the gallows. This was a woman known as Agnes who had stolen a surcoat and three shillings. When she was being taken to the gallows the Queen was riding nearby with the King and the woman’s young daughter threw herself at the Queen’s horse and might have been run down if Philippa had not pulled up sharply.

  The sight of a child in distress could always move the Queen deeply, and when she heard that the condemned woman was pregnant Philippa implored the King to give her a reprieve at least until her child was born.

  Edward gallantly acceded to her request and there were cheers for the Queen. But that night as they lay in Knaresborough Philippa was deeply concerned as to what would become of the motherless child when after it was born the hangman claimed his victim.

  ‘She must live to care for her child, Edward. And it seemed to me a terrible thing that a surcoat and three shillings should be considered worth a life.’

  ‘This does seem so,’ said Edward thoughtfully. ‘But we cannot allow thieves to flourish. In the days of my great ancestor, William the Conqueror, no traveller need fear taking to the roads. The penalty for stealing was not death but the loss of ear
s, hands, feet, eyes ... Which ever was judged applicable. Under the weak reign of Stephen when this penalty was abolished the roads swarmed with thieves—and worse. Travellers were kidnapped and taken to the castles of robber barons to be robbed and tortured and to make cruel sport for the guests of these wicked men. It is easy to say the price of a surcoat is death but it is not merely one surcoat we are considering.’

  Philippa was silent. ‘I know this well,’ she replied at length. But I shall grieve for that child. I believe that the woman stole to feed her living child. Edward, you often wish to give me some jewel to show how you love me. I would rather have this woman’s life than any jewel.’

  So Edward said the woman should be pardoned; and the people crowded round the Queen when she rode out and blessed her with tears in their eyes and she was called Good Queen Philippa.

  * * *

  The King of England was on the march. Robert the Bruce was dead and King Edward looked and acted like his grandfather. There was no Scottish army worthy of the name. It had never been easy to discipline Scotsmen. They needed a William Wallace or a Robert the Bruce, and they had neither. Moray was dead. So was Black Douglas. They were without those leaders who could have led them to victory.

  Sir Malcolm Fleming came to Edinburgh. He knew what Edward planned. He would set up Baliol as a puppet King and take David and Joanna back to England. There they would live comfortably—but as prisoners. It must not be. David must remain King of Scotland and if he ever fell into Edward’s hands who could say what the English King would inveigle him into promising.

  Sir Malcolm’s plan was that he should convey the young King and Queen to Dumbarton, which was reckoned to be the strongest castle in the country, and he was its governor. There he would keep the royal pair; and if it were necessary for them to leave the country he could have a ship waiting for them and they could leave for France, when danger came too near.

  This seemed a good plan and the children set out with Sir Malcolm.

  So to Dumbarton, that grim fortress set on a point of land formed by the Clyde and the Leven from where it would be possible to take ship easily if the need arose.