The Steps to the Empty Throne

“More than that. He chooses ill friends. Prefers the company of singers, mummers and mimers, players. Priests of the baser sort.

He does not play the man.”

“I would have thought that England might have had enough of warrior kings!”

“We would esteem a few years of peace, yes. But now that Scotland is subdued; Wales and Ireland also; and we are in treaty with France and the Pope, peace there is. It must be preserved, you will agree, Cousin. Ana a weak king, you must admit, is a sure road to war and rebellion.”

“Edward has never been a man of peace. Think you he will be content with peace now? Or is this sickness like to affect him?

Prevent him from leading more campaigns? In person?”

“Who knows? Queen Margaret will keep him from that. If she may ..

.”

A fanfare cut short this exchange. Everyone bowed as a herald announced the resounding titles of Edward, by God’s grace King of England> Lord of Scotland, Ireland and Wales, Duke of Normandy and Aquitaine.

It was not only the reference to Scotland which made Bruce’s brow darken as he bowed with the rest, but the manner of the King’s arrival. He positively swept into the great chamber, no more like an ailing man than Bruce was, smiling, jovial, dragging his pregnant wife along by the hand, high-coloured and heavy but as full of energy as of goodwill. It was a sore disappointment.

But disappointment was quickly overlaid by a more urgent emotion—apprehension. The royal summons to Bruce had been for no mere social celebration—that was not in Edward’s character.

Richmond, or more likely Bevercotes, would have sent a full account of the proceedings at Stirling in November last. There had been no repercussions in the meantime. Bruce had been left alone to manage his own affairs, on his estates, and had taken no further part in the rule of Scotland. Now he must look for a reckoning. Elizabeth came close, and slipped her hand within his arm.

To the soft strains of the musicians, the King made unhurried progress towards the twin thrones at the head of the hall, having a gracious word with lords and ladies in passing. Quite quickly Queen Margaret espied Elizabeth, and began to draw her husband towards her former favourite lady-in-waiting.

“A good sign,” Elizabeth murmured.

“The Queen at least suspects no clash, I think.”

“Edward may not have revealed his mind. Even to her. He is a law unto himself.”

The King did not allow his consort to hurry him unduly, certainly.

The royal progress was agonisingly slow for the pair from Scotland.

At last the two couples were face to face, with the Queen reaching out to embrace the curtsying Elizabeth, and Bruce bowing again.

“Ha, Robert—do I see you well?” Edward demanded genially.

“I vow I can scarce discern you, so dazzled are my old eyes by your lady’s beauty!” And he in turn bowed gallantly.

“I am well, Sire, yes. And you?”

“Never better, lad. Never better. You will rejoice to hear!”

And the older man eyed him directly.

Bruce swallowed.

“All Your Majesty’s subjects must rejoice at that,” he said.

”They should, lad—they should!” Edward agreed.

“As you will see, my wife has no reason to complain of my … inadequacy I—Yours has less to thank you for, by the looks of her!”

The other inclined his head slightly.

“There is time and to sparer I hope.”

Edward’s smile faded for a moment.

“Who knows!” he gave back, shortly. He turned to Elizabeth.

“My dear, you gladden as well as dazzle our eyes,” he said.

“We have missed you.”

“Ah, yes,” the Queen agreed.

“So much. So very much. There is none like my Elizabeth.”

“Your Majesties are too kind.”

“This lord of yours,” the King said.

“He tells me that he is well. Yet he has been hiding himself away. In Annandale and Galloway, I am told. Neglecting the rule of my Scotland.”

“There has been much to do, Sire, in the Bruce lands. Much to put to rights. After these past years. And you have servants in plenty to rule Scotland,” Elizabeth pointed out.

“None so many when my Scots lords withdraw their aid and duty!”

“My lord of Richmond is well able to govern Scotland, Sire,” Bruce claimed.

“He has…”

“My lord of Richmond is a fool) But I am not, Robert—I am not!”

“Yet Richmond’s troubles in Scotland stem from the slaying of Wallace here in London. And the manner of the slaying,” Bruce said, through tight lips.

“To be sure. Your notions on Wallace were reported to me!”

That was coldly enunciated.

“Do you wish to add to them now?”

“No, Sire. that would be to no purpose. I but remark that your nephew’s present difficulties arise from the people’s anger at Wallace’s cruel death.”

“And you will not aid him in those difficulties? At my command?”

“Your Majesty’s command I must obey,” the younger man said woodenly.

“If my lord of Richmond seeks my aid, in your name, then I must needs give it.”

“I am glad that you perceive that fact, Robert.”

“Edward—my legs!” the Queen broke in.

“I am weary of standing. With this great belly of mine! Let us sit, of a mercy!”

“To be sure, my love. Come. Elizabeth—you also.” He glanced back at Bruce.

“We shall talk of this later, my lord.” With curt dismissal, the King moved on.

Elizabeth looked unhappily at her husband, but could not refuse to obey the royal command, especially when the Queen’s hand was on her arm. Bruce was left standing alone.

And he remained alone. For now the watchful courtiers, practised in discerning favour and disfavour, perceived the difference of treatment as between man and wife, and shunned him. Even Gloucester, though he did not ignore him entirely, tended to keep his distance.

A programme of music, dancing, miming, tumbling and the like followed, during all of which the Scot remained isolated, separated from Elizabeth and avoided by almost all the company.

Too proud to approach those who looked away, Bruce fumed what seemed endless hours away in ill-suppressed rage. He could not take himself off, as he would have wished, and leave Elizabeth behind; moreover, Edward had cunningly said that they would talk more later—which was as good as a command to stay.

Once, while meats and drink were being brought in by a host of servants, Elizabeth did manage to slip away, temporarily, from the Queen’s side, for a word with her husband.

“I am sorry, my heart,” she murmured.

“This is hard to bear.

But … it is perhaps less ill than might have been. The King is teaching you one of his lessons.”

“And I must needs stand here and suffer it I Before all. Like a corrected child I I cannot come up to you, at the thrones, without being invited. I cannot leave. And all these know I am now frowned on, and frown in turn…”

“I grieve for you. But we did fear worse, Robert. After what you said and did at Stirling. At least this chastening hurts only your pride. And he cannot intend more dire punishment, or he would not act thus.

With the hour growing late…”

“With Edward, who can tell? The devil could be hatching greater evil!”

“Not at this hour. Not tonight. And the Queen grows very weary. The child is heavy in her. She will soon seek to retire.

Then we should see an end to this …”

The Queen’s weariness, however, took a long time to affect her husband’s enjoyment of the evening. And when Edward did finally rise, to escort her out, amidst genuflection from all present, he in fact led her down the opposite side of the room from Bruce’s position, and without a glance thitherward. The younger man did not know whether to be relieved or further infuriated—although Elizabeth, released and rejoining him, was in no doubts.