The interminable process at the table-which was clearly much more concerned with the new and damnable notion of tax assessment than with the ostensible allegiance-givingwas nearing an end for this grey March day, and Benstead was closely cross-questioning an impassive upland farmer as to his stocks of wool-for by a new edict all Scots wool was to be confiscated and sent to the nearest port for shipment to London for the Kings use-when there was an interruption. A booted and spurred courier came hurrying in. It was noticeable that though the man bowed perfunctorily towards the pair on the dais, it was to Master Benstead that he made his way, to speak low-voiced, urgently.
Sir Nicholas, with an old campaigners ability to waken at need and completely, bestirred himself and stumped down to see what was to do. After a moment or two, Bruce swallowed his pride and did the same.
The messenger, an Englishman, had come from Lanark, from Edwards newly-created Earl of Clydesdale and Sheriff of Lanark and Ayr, William de Hazelrig. His tidings were dramatic. Sir William Douglas had escaped from his bonds in the south, and was believed to be heading for Scotland again, if he was not already over the Border. Moreover, open revolt had broken out in Galloway, where James Stewart, the High Steward of Scotland, and Bishop Robert Wishart of Glasgow, had risen in arms against the English garrisons. It was thought that Douglas would make for Galloway to join these traitors, since he had married the Stewards sister. But before that he might well seek to collect a force of men on his own estates in Douglasdale. The Earl of Carrick, at Lochmaben, had been charged with the duty of dealing suitably with the Douglas lands. He must see to it without delay that this renegade gained no men there, that he was apprehended if he came thither, and that the territory of Douglasdale was left in no condition ever again to be a danger to the Kings Peace.
You hear, my good young lord? Benstead asked, pointing a long,
ink-stained finger at Bruce. He infuriated the latter in innumerable ways, but in none more effectively than this deplorable habit of referring to him as his good young lord.
Your delays stand revealed. Indicted. If this Douglas reaches his lands before you do, and gathers men there to aid these rebels in Galloway, then you will be held responsible. I have told you.
And I have told you, sir, that in winter months there can be no campaigning in these hills. You are not in your Lincolnshire now! To take a large force over into Douglas Water means the covering of forty miles of savage hills, choked passes, flooded valleys, rivers in spate, no bridges. It could not be done, these past months. But nor was there any danger from there, since no more could the Douglases have moved in force. Sir Nicholas knows that, if you do not, Master Pander! To term the man this was Bruces retort to the good young lord phrase.
I know that you could have raided Douglasdale before the winter closed in-and did not, my lord. Despite my advice. I know likewise, even though I am no soldier, that it is no longer winter, and men determined in the Kings service might have been amove ere this! As have these rebels in your Galloway, it seems! Perhaps it is as well that His Majesty forbade that you go into Galloway, when he did!
What do you mean by that? I do not take you, sir. Perhaps you will explain?
The other looked quickly from Bruce to Sir Nicholas Segrave and the courier, and shrugged his twisted shoulders.
I would not wish to see a loyal and noble servant of the Kings Highness endangered amongst rebels, that is all, he answered smoothly.
Sir Nicholas intervened.
This rising? In Galloway. How large a matter? You say the High Steward, and one of their bishops …?
It is serious, I fear. Now that King Edward has gone campaigning in Flanders, these treacherous Scots think that they may safely rebel. They must be taught otherwise. Eh, my good lord!
There have been a number of petty revolts, all easily put down.
But this is more dangerous. The Steward, despite his strange title, is an important lord. And the rascal Bishop of Glasgow, this Wishart, is the most potent of their prelates. I would have thought that the man Baliols fate would have taught them their lesson!
Galloway was Baliols country, and these have risen in Baliols name, the courier amplified.
They declare that he is still their king, the fools. But neither the Steward nor the Bishop are soldierswhereas this Douglas is. Therefore my lord of Clydesdale says that it is of the utmost importance that he does not join them. He says that my lord of Carrick must act without delay. In the Kings name.
As he shall. Eh, my lord?
Bruce inclined his head. He had put off the unsavoury business of harrying his neighbours lands for as long as he could. Not that he had too nice a stomach for raiding and feud, in the time honoured fashion; but Douglas was an old friend of his fathers, distantly related indeed, and it went against the grain to attack his wife and family during his absence in captivity. It seemed, however, that he could procrastinate no longer. Better that he should do it, perhaps, than Hazelrig from Lanark, a man renowned as a butcher.
It will take a little time to muster sufficient men, he said.
Two days, no more, Benstead asserted.
We have planned it all, times without number these last months. You agree, Sir Nicholas? Two days. He turned to the courier.
My salutations to your lord, at Lanark. Tell him that my lord of Carrick will be hammering at the gates of Douglas Castle three days from now.
And that every effort will be made to lay hands on its master. But once we have his lady and children, we shall have the means to halt his treasons, heh? Through them we will bring the cur to heel very promptlyor my name is not John Benstead! Tell my lord of Clydesdale that it is as good as done.
Bruce turned away and left them there, the clerks mocking laughter following him.
So, a few days later, a mounted host of some six hundred men wound its
way through the green Lowther Hills, forded the waters of Daer,
Potrail, Elvan and Snar, feeders of Clyde, crossed the high peat-pocked
moors beyond, and over the lonely pass of Glentaggart where the snow
still lingered in the north-facing corries, rode down the Glespin Burn
into the fair wide valley of the Douglas Water. Bruce and Sir Nicholas
Segrave led, with a contingent of half the English garrison; the rest
were all Annandale men, irregulars, tenantry rendering their feudal
service. Their stocky, short-legged shaggy garrons, used to the hills,
made a notably better job of the difficult terrain than did the English
regulars cavalry horses. To the satisfaction of all concerned, Waster