Exiles in Time (The After Cilmeri Series) (35 page)

“
Every claimant to the
throne needs to swear—right here, right now—that he will abide by
the decision of Parliament and support the man they choose to
rule.” Callum canted his head. “You never know. It could be
you.”

In the old world, it was really only
Balliol and Grampa Bruce whose claims had serious merit, and it had
been Balliol who’d ultimately triumphed—at least until King Edward
had set about systematically undermining his rule. Balliol had died
in exile and Robbie Bruce had risen to power, ultimately throwing
the English out of Scotland entirely for a time. Now, with Callum’s
plan, even Erik of Norway and Patrick Dunbar, an agnate son from
the House of Dunkeld, had a chance of winning the throne. Callum
saw the men before him glance to their rivals, calculation in their
eyes.

“
I agree,” Erik said.
Callum had guessed he might be the first. His was the lesser claim.
A vote was his only chance, even if vanishingly small.

As the other men began to nod, Callum
heaved a sigh. He remained standing at his place as they filed out,
leaving him the last man in the room. Before leaving, he leaned his
shoulder into the frame of the door, allowing the wood to take his
weight. He was more tired than he’d ever been in his life. The
physical exhaustion was one thing, but to have Scotland’s future
resting on his shoulders had him stumbling under the
burden.

He looked up at the sound of an
indrawn breath. Cassie was standing a few feet away. The corridor
between the meeting room and the great hall where Parliament was
gathering was empty except for them. Cassie reached up a hand to
brush his cheek with her fingers. “You look so tired.”

“
I feel like I’ve aged ten
years this week,” Callum said. “Only a little longer, though, and
this might be over.”

“
I hear you pushed it
through,” she said. “The men were talking of it as they left the
room.”

“
It seems I did,” Callum
said. “We’ll see in a minute what Parliament has to say to the
idea.”

“
There’s an additional
factor that we haven’t taken into account, you know,” Cassie said.
“It’s already starting.”

Callum glanced up. “What is
that?”

“
Politicking,” Cassie
said.

“
The foundation of
democracy,” Callum said with a half laugh. “I expect the Scots will
learn the art between the main course and dessert
tonight.”

“
Surely it’s the only
reason Erik of Norway agreed to the vote, don’t you think?” Cassie
said. “Nobody is going to vote for him, but if he offers to throw
his support behind another candidate …?”

“
I suspect every man in
that room was thinking about how to get an edge,” Callum
said.

“
There’ll be no stopping
them now,” Cassie said.

Callum took a step towards the open
door at the end of the corridor. “I need to go, Cassie.”

“
I know,” she said. “My
only consolation is that Samuel isn’t allowed to attend
either.”

“
If the medieval world can
change in this way, it can change in other ways too,” Callum
said.

“
Women didn’t get the vote
in the United States until 1920,” Cassie said. “That’s a lot of
change.”

“
You don’t know David,”
Callum said. “Give him a chance.”

And then Callum really did have to go.
He entered the great hall, finding that he had to force his legs to
stride forward instead of faltering in the doorway. The host of men
who made up Scotland’s Parliament were packed to the rafters and
still men kept coming.

If this was what politics was like all
the time in the Middle Ages, Callum hoped David wouldn’t put him on
a job like this again. The only thing that was keeping him upright
was the urgency of the task before him and the need to see it
through.

James Stewart stood to Callum’s left
and gazed out at the men in the hall. He lifted his chin so that
his voice would project to the far corners of the room. “So that we
all have the same understanding, I will relate what has occurred
over the last week, so that you may make your own judgments as to
the course of action we now must take.”

“
Please,” Clare said under
his breath.

Callum glanced down at him. Clare had
found a seat to Callum’s right and tapped his fingers impatiently
on the table, his eyes glinting. Callum found Clare’s lack of
personal interest in the succession a relief from the intense
emotions of everyone else.

“
We now know this to be
true: John Kirby, Bishop of Ely and England’s ambassador to
Scotland, conspired with William de Valence to place John Comyn on
the throne of Scotland,” said James, beginning his tale at the end
of the story. “He incited Alexander MacDougall, a Balliol
supporter, to ambush the king’s company along the road to Stirling;
he encouraged Robert Bruce to exact his revenge, first on the
Comyns, and then on MacDougall. Kirby saw to the murder of fifty
men in the hopes that in our anger, we would act unjustly,
sacrificing tradition and law in favor of his choice for the crown.
He intended that the Black Comyn would come forward as the voice of
reason.”

James held up a piece of paper. “We
found this document in Kirby’s possession. It is a testimonial by
John Balliol, signed and witnessed, urging Alexander MacDougall to
eliminate King David as a way to ensure Balliol’s own ascension to
the throne. We now know this document to be a forgery.”

If David had been here, he would have
recognized Kirby’s tactic. It was Kirby who’d fabricated the
documents claiming that David’s mother was the illegitimate
daughter of King Henry and Caitir, a daughter of Alexander II.
Someone would need to pry out of Kirby the name of his expert
forger, but for now, that knowledge could wait.

Then it was Bishop Fraser’s turn to
speak. “We have unmasked a devious plot and implicated a Guardian
of Scotland in the process. The time has come to anoint a new king.
It is long past time.”

Fraser looked to Callum, who nodded.
James and Fraser sat, leaving Callum the only man standing. He
waited for the men in the room to fall silent, and when after two
minutes they didn’t quiet, he lifted a hand to gain their
attention. Finally, they settled down and Callum waited another
fifteen seconds until he could have heard a pin drop.

“
Your Guardians asked King
David to come to Stirling to help Scotland choose their new king,”
Callum said. “Perhaps it was even the Black Comyn himself who
suggested King David act in this role.” Callum glanced towards
Bishop Fraser, whose face paled. Callum had guessed
right.

Callum continued. “Not knowing of
Kirby’s treachery and wishing not to confuse the matter by putting
forth his own claim to the Scottish throne, King David sent Bishop
Kirby in his place. If King David were here, he would apologize for
this mistake and take up the task in Kirby’s stead. King David,
however, is not here and that role has fallen to me. I am Alexander
Callum, the Earl of Shrewsbury, and I say that the question of
succession should be put to a Parliamentary vote.”

Dead silence.

Clare’s mouth twitched and Callum
almost kicked him for his insolence. Then the room went from silent
to raucous in a matter of seconds. It started as a murmur and then
swept through the hall as each man spoke to his neighbor. The
Guardians and the dozen claimants to the throne remained silent,
some standing, some sitting, but all impassive. They had known what
Callum was going to say, of course, since he’d already said it to
them earlier.

Andrew Moray lifted a hand and Bishop
Fraser gestured that he should rise and take the floor. The uproar
in the great hall had continued for ten minutes, but it was time to
talk about it as an official body.

“
Among my people, King
David’s plan isn’t without precedent,” Andrew said. “We choose our
clan leaders through the ancient tradition of tanistry.”

Many of the men nodded, though not
Erik, who said right on cue, “And what is tanistry?”

“
Upon the death of the clan
chief, succession doesn’t fall to the eldest son, but to the most
capable man of the clan, even if he isn’t the son of the man who
died,” Andrew said. “Moreover, the man is chosen by election.”
Although much of the nobility in Scotland were Lowlanders, everyone
in the room but Erik of Norway had some Highland blood and should
have recognized the practice.

“
If you accept what I’m
suggesting,” Callum said, “the only claimant whose name will be
withheld from the ballot is King David’s.”

“
Of all the claimants, he’s
the only one who
should
be on it,” Clare said, though under his breath and only to
Callum.

Callum glanced at Clare, trying not to
smile at his sour tone.

“
That’s the deal,” Callum
said. “Take it, and you and your people get to truly decide the
ruler of Scotland. Leave it, and you will have King David to deal
with.”

“
You’re threatening us?”
said a man from the back of the room.

“
Only if he has to,” James
Stewart said.

Callum had wanted to propose that an
election be held every five years, and Cassie had demanded that
Callum include women, but James had talked him out of both. Even
Cassie had eventually admitted that such an agreement would be too
much for the noblemen of Scotland to swallow. Callum couldn’t force
it down their throats and he would prefer not having to do it at
the point of King David’s sword. Personally, Callum thought
Scotland was like a wild horse and didn’t envy any of these men
trying to tame it. He didn’t blame David for not wanting the
crown.

Bishop William Fraser dropped a fist
onto the table. “We will adjourn for dinner and meet again later
tonight.”

The hall filled with noise again, but
those at the high table continued to sit. Clare tapped his fingers
rhythmically on the table. “If Parliament elects the new king of
Scotland, no body of men has employed such power since ancient
Greece.”

Callum shouldn’t have been surprised
that Clare would know such a thing. “Will this work, do you think?”
Callum said.

“
You have boxed them into a
corner with the threat of war against England as their only
alternative,” Andrew said. “Parliament will accept the
power—gleefully, I imagine—though some of the claimants to the
throne may in the end, when they lose, come to think that war would
have been the lesser of two evils. The new king may also regret the
extent to which he is answerable to the men who elected
him.”

James ran a hand through his hair.
“How did you come by this plan, Lord Callum? Don’t tell me that
King David wrote to you of it. There’s been no time for
messages.”

“
This has been King David’s
dream for Britain since he was fourteen years old,” Callum
said.

“
I would like to meet him,”
said James. “When I was fourteen, I’d just discovered
lasses.”

Callum smiled. “King David knows that
he sits on the throne of England because the people chose him to
rule. It gives him power that you can’t yet understand.”

“
So be it.” James put his
hands on the arms of his chair and pushed to his feet. “Come,
Andrew. We have noblemen to appease. Best get to work.”

Chapter
Twenty-Two

Cassie

C
allum and Cassie stood on the battlements of Stirling Castle,
alone for the first time since their conversation at
Kilsyth.

“
Just tell me what’s wrong,
Cassie,” Callum said. “I can take anything but your
silence.”

“
I’m going to
leave.”

“
Cassie—”

She turned to Callum. “I can’t do
this, Callum.”

“
At least wait a few more
days until I can take you home,” Callum said.

“
You have a job to do. I’m
going to let you do it while I go home. Alone. I can’t stay for
even one more day.”

“
Then let me send Samuel
with you,” Callum said. “It’s not safe for you on the road by
yourself.”

Cassie rolled her eyes. “I was alone
for five years, Callum.”

“
Please,
Cassie—”

“
You deserve better than
me.”

“
I don’t think better
exists,” he said. “And isn’t that my decision?”

“
I’m only going to hurt
you.”

“
Not worse than you’re
hurting me by leaving.”

Cassie looked away. “You’ll
heal.”

But Cassie wasn’t sure she
would.

Callum no longer tried to stop her
from going. Within the hour, she was on her way out of Stirling on
foot. Because Grampa Bruce had demanded to speak to Callum yet
again, Callum hadn’t even been able to see her off and sent Samuel
in his stead.

“
Are you sure you want to
do this, Cassie?” Samuel said. He’d walked twenty paces with her
out from the gatehouse.

Cassie had talked with Samuel only a
few times and wasn’t sure that now was the time for confidences,
but she answered him anyway. “Yes. I’m sure.”