The Renegade: A Tale of Robert the Bruce (10 page)

In the fire’s flickering light he saw his wife’s private doubt expressed in the faint pout of her mouth.

“Oh, it won’t happen overnight,” he continued smoothly. “No one expects that. Those two warhorses have been prancing around each other too long for either one of them to take to the notion of alliance easily. But it will happen, my love, over time. By this time next year it should be well in hand, and we believe—”

“
We
believe? Had you a hand in this?”

“A small one. There were others involved. But yes, I was part of it.”

Now Marjorie turned sideways to look over at him. “Well, Husband,” she said, “you were right. It is a brilliant solution to a problem few beyond these parts knew to exist. We can but hope Angus accepts the title, though he would have to be blind not to see how a refusal will hobble him. Aye, he would have to be blind … and foolish. A blind fool.” She sighed loudly and rose to her feet, stretching a hand out to the earl. “So be it, then. Take me to bed now, goodman, and show me how young you are.”

Later, when they lay contentedly intertwined before separating to sleep, the countess murmured, “I hope this all goes as well as you predict, my love. It will set the seal upon this week and this place of ours and change the lives of many folk, not only ours. I wonder what was in King Edward’s packet … ” She waited for his reply, but Robert Bruce of Carrick had gone ahead of her and his only answer was a gentle snore. She smiled and gently eased her long legs free of her husband’s, then turned on her side and snuggled her buttocks against him, enjoying his habitual response as he grunted and fitted himself to the curve of her back. “It must have been of import,” she murmured to herself, “for I thought he might come back, but he never did …”

CHAPTER FOUR

MEETINGS

L
ate in the afternoon of the next day, Alexander Canmore, King of Scots, emerged with a smile on his lips from the great pavilion where he had spent long hours in council with his followers and guests. In the full light of mid-afternoon, he looked about him, breathing in the scents of the summer day, the sweet, salty tang of the seaweed on the nearby shore mingled with the familiar odours of fresh hay and warm dung from the horse lines on his right. He heard the swelling sound of voices at his back as the other men began to spill out from the pavilion, their day’s business concluded, and he draped an arm amicably over the shoulders of the Gaelic chief, Angus Mohr, who came up beside him. Both men stood talking quietly, their heads close together as the others filed by them without seeking to interrupt, and it was clear from their easy intimacy that they were both satisfied with the outcome of their deliberations.

The Scots King laughed aloud and slapped Angus Mohr gently on the shoulder, and as he did he saw Edward of England standing close by, watching him, and in unfeigned pleasure he opened his arms to his royal kinsman, calling out his name. Edward moved forward to embrace his brother-in-law as the Gaelic chief stepped back, giving him room. As they exchanged pleasantries, Angus Mohr cleared his throat and spoke in Gaelic to Alexander, bowing his head slightly but none the less deferentially to the Scots monarch, who listened graciously and answered him in the same language. The MacDonald chief then glanced at Edward, nodded pleasantly, and left the two Kings together.

They watched him leave, and when he was safely beyond earshot Edward asked quietly in English, “Well, cuz, did you get what you required of him?”

“Aye, brother, I did. A good day’s work, indeed, from both our viewpoints. Angus Mohr is now my official ally in the far west, Lord of the Isles by royal decree and ten times richer than he was when he set foot here in Turnberry to meet us. From this day forth he will prosper greatly, enriching me and this realm with his friendship— which might conceivably prove fickle, though I doubt that—and with his championship, which will endure if for no other reason than that his future welfare will depend on it. We have had concerns, these past few years, about the activities of certain people in the far west whose ambitions I have found difficult to curb from Dunfermline. We have few good roads here in Scotland, as you know, and none at all in the west and armies progress too slowly when they have to march overland, picking their way over trackless wastes, around lakes and mountains. Now I will have MacDonald there, ready to protect my interests in concert with his own. Those others I spoke of are his enemies—traditionally so—but now that he is my man, beholden to me for all that he owns from this day forth, he will protect my welfare and that of my realm in furthering his own. And so I am well pleased.”

He took a step backward, eyeing his royal guest. “What about you? Is all well?”

“Aye, it is,” Edward answered. “But why should you suspect otherwise?”

“Why? Because I saw you take your chancellor’s dispatch from the hands of his messenger and I know you spent hours walking and thinking about it, fretting over it. Your man Norfolk told me that you left before dawn this morning and when you returned earlier this afternoon you were caked with dust and sweat. A long walk alone in the hot summer sun bespoke grave concern, but I was happy to see you looked well content when you came back.”

“I was and I am. I found a solution and I am happy with it.”

“And am I permitted to ask what it concerned and what you determined?”

The English King grinned. “You are. Burnell directed my attention to a matter beyond my realm and yours, in Sicily. There’s a threat of war looming there, he says—a war that might threaten us in England if left unchecked. That disturbs him, and he is a man not easily disturbed. In consequence it concerned me even more. I have troubles enough of my own without being forced into more at the whim of others overseas whose affairs hold no interest for me.”

“And so a resolution came to you?”

“Aye, with God’s help. I will write to the Pope immediately and offer my services as a mediator, to negotiate a peace that will be acceptable to everyone. It should work. I’m uninvolved in the dispute, and those who
are
involved all know I have no interest in what’s being fought over. Add to that the consideration that the Pope will be eager, I believe, to throw the full authority of the Church behind me, since he has more to lose in this affair than any of the principals.” He chuckled. “My regal brothers in Christendom are all wise and noble men, and who but a fool would seek to wage a ruinous war when an honourable settlement can be arranged without disgrace?”

Alexander grinned. “Who, indeed? And we all know there are no fools among the Kings in Christendom. I’ll wish you well then, brother.”

It was later that same afternoon when Rob Bruce and his new friend returned to Turnberry after a long day of explorations and adventure. They had taken a boat that morning and rowed northward along the coast to one of Rob’s favourite spots, where a high cliff plunged down to a narrow strip of beach that was reachable only when the tide was ebbing. The entire face of the cliff was riddled with caves, the interior so honeycombed that once inside at beach level, an enterprising boy could make his way up to the very top by climbing from cave to cave without ever going outside. It was dangerous, because the tide below went out and came back quickly, leaving
only a narrow space of time for entering and getting out again, and as the returning waves swept back, the lower levels were flooded with lethally swirling water.

They had had almost two full hours in the caves that day because this was the season of what the fishermen called neap tides—the lowest that could occur—and they had beached their boat high and dry a hundred paces from where the cliff began, then made their way along its base to the entrance to the first cave. Rob could not remember ever having spent such a long time in there, and they had explored the caves extensively, though they found nothing of value. Merely being there, in peril from the incoming tide, had been adventure enough to satisfy them both, and they had judged their escape finely, scuttling like crabs along the base of the cliff until they reached the safety of the shelving bank beyond, with spuming breakers threatening to sweep the legs from under them over the last few scrambling yards.

“We’ve got caves on Islay,” Angus Og said in a hushed voice when they were safely at the top of the sandy slope beside the upsweeping cliff. “But we’ve nothing like that. Our caves are just caves, and the biggest you ever get is three linked together. But this place … I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“There
is
nothing like it,” Rob answered, his voice equally quiet. “Nicol says it’s the kind of stone that makes so many caves possible. It’s soft and hard together, if you can imagine that, and the waves have just scoured out the soft bits and left the hard bits standing. Nicol says someday the whole thing’s just going to collapse, rotted from the inside out. I think I believe him, too. I just hope I’m not in there when it happens!”

Angus Og was wide-eyed imagining it, and soon he began to giggle, flapping his arms as if to knock away the tumbling roofs and walls. His antics quickly had Rob laughing, too, and in moments both boys were rolling around and sobbing hysterically, hugging their sore ribs.

They fished from the boat for the remainder of the day, and before they knew it their midday meal was a long-forgotten thing and they were hungry again and still five miles at least from home.

Murdo the factor saw them as they reached the main gates and called them over to him. He asked them where they had been and then sent them back to haul the boat up beyond the tide line and to empty it and secure it properly. When he was satisfied that they had left everything in order, he dispatched them indoors by a side entrance to report to his wife. Rob went obediently, Angus Og tailing along behind him in silence, and Allie examined them both for cuts and dirt stains, then sent them off to the kitchens to be fed, warning them to behave themselves and to stay well away from the busy cooks and from the main body of the house, where the earl and countess were entertaining their royal guests.

Rob had noticed that his friend had very little to say around grown men and women, even when they were as warm and friendly as Murdo and Allie and the other members of the countess’s household, and though he had been tempted to say something about it, he had wisely decided to keep silent. He sensed somehow that Angus Og’s upbringing among his forbidding father’s Islesmen had taught the boy to be wary of all adults. Rob had only ever felt that way himself on his infrequent visits to his paternal grandfather, Lord Robert Bruce of Annandale, but while he was there he felt that way
all
the time. The old man frightened Rob, even though he knew there was no reason for his fear, so he was prepared to accord the same tacit understanding to his quiet friend Angus.

Freed again from the constraints of having to behave acceptably, the boys charged around the corner of the main house and raced directly for the kitchens, Rob in front and Angus Og hard on his heels. They were approaching the outer doors to the main house when they looked up and almost skidded to a halt, their eyes growing wide as they saw that they had almost hurtled full tilt into Someone Important.

There were in fact two men before them. One of them, an armoured knight with a frowning face, had thrown out an arm as if
to fend them off, and he snarled at them now, ordering them to get back. The other man, though, who looked older and was a full head taller than his companion, laid a restraining hand on his arm.

“Let it be, my lord of Norfolk,” he said. “Wait for me inside.”

The other looked at him askance, then shrugged and stepped through the open doorway, leaving the two boys gaping openly at the magnificence of the rich, white, heavily embroidered tunic that the man now facing them was wearing. Rob was squinting at the coat of arms on the broad chest, deciphering the elements of the red, gold, and blue escutcheon and racking his brains for what he had been told by his tutor about the premier coats of arms.

“That’s the royal coat of arms,” Rob said in English to the tall man. “Are you the King of England?

“I am,” Edward Plantagenet said evenly. “And who are you?”

Rob felt himself flush, but he returned the monarch’s gaze steadily and spoke with confidence. “I am Robert Bruce, my lord,” he said. “Seventh of that name. This is my mother’s castle and they call me Rob.” He turned slightly, indicating his companion with a wave. “And this is my friend Angus, from Islay. His father is Angus Mohr.”

“Ah, the new-named Lord of the Isles.” Edward nodded at the frowning boy. “I have met your father. Do you understand the honour accorded him today by King Alexander?”

The young Gael gazed back at him, but there was not the slightest hint of awe in his look, and Edward pursed his lips in the beginnings of disapproval, but before he could say anything Rob spoke again.

“Angus does not speak English, sir King.” He flicked a glance at his friend and added, “That’s why he looks so … unfriendly. He doesn’t know who you are and didn’t understand a word you said to him.”

“But he does know about the honour extended to his father today, does he not?”

“Aye, sir, he does. Murdo the factor told us about it just now.”

“And is he proud of it?”

The response came after a very slight hesitation. “I cannot answer that, my lord King. He and his father are … not close.”

“I see.”

Rob’s gaze did not flicker as he watched the English King meet Angus Og’s eye squarely, then nod graciously to the lad and turn directly back to Rob. “He does look … unfriendly. But now I understand why. How old are you, Robert Bruce?”

Rob blinked. “I’m ten. I was ten yesterday. Halfway to being a man, my uncle Nicol says.”

“More than halfway,” the English King replied. “Much more, I think, from the look of you.” He glanced again at Angus Og, who was still gazing stolidly at him. “A pity that your friend does not speak English. He should learn it someday.”

Rob shrugged. “He might, someday,” he said, unconscious of any impertinence, and then he frowned. “Sir, I don’t know what to call you.”