The Steps to the Empty Throne

“God save the King’s Grace!” somebody shouted.

“God bless King Robert!” Immediately the cry was taken up by the entire gathering in a ringing and repeated chant, amidst cheers. To its resounding echoes, Robert Bruce rode downhill from Dumfries Castle, into the town, making for the north gate.

Elizabeth and Christian Bruce were sitting before the fire in the February dusk, stitching tapestries and watching the children play, when the brothers got back to Lochmaben. Bruce stood in the doorway eyeing this pleasantly domestic scene almost guiltily, before venturing in.

Elizabeth looked up, a little anxiously for her. She was well aware, of course, that-her husband had gone to Dumfries day specifically to confront Comyn with his treachery. However cosy the scene seemed now, she had been on edge all day. But she did not question him, waiting for the man to speak.

Not so Christian of Mar, now the Lady Seton. She seldom waited for anyone to speak first.

“So, my brave brothers,” she greeted them, “are you struck dumb by our beauty? Or has that reptile Comyn escaped you?”

“No,” Bruce said briefly.

“No? What does no mean? Have you settled with the man?”

“I have, yes.”

“Then I vow you are precious dull about it, Robert! And what have you done with my great ox of a husband? Do not tell me you let Comyn master Aim!”

“No. Christopher is well enough. He is gone on an errand for me. To Tibbers.”

“Tibbers? And why, a mercy’s sake? Why go to Tibbers? The English hold it, do they not?”

“It is my hope they will not, for much longer.”

“So! You send my foolish Yorkshireman to ask his fellow Englishmen to give you back your Tibbers! You are become mighty bold, my Lord Robert, of a truth…!”

Elizabeth raised a hand to quell her irrepressible sister-in-law.

“Let him tell it at his own pace,” she urged.

But Nigel could contain himself no longer.

“Quiet, you, by all the saints, Christie!” he burst out.

“Your tongue is like a bell in the wind! And show something more of respect, I charge you. Call your brother Grace, now—not Lord!”

“Grace…? What folly is this?”

Elizabeth did not speak, but her hand went up to the white column of her throat.

“He is the King!” Thomas exclaimed excitedly.

“He has taken the kingdom.”

Bruce looked at his wife, not his sister.

“Scarce that!” he said.

“The kingdom will require a deal of taking, I fear!”

“Robert, You… you … what have you done?”

“Well may you ask, my dear. What can I say…?”

“I’ll tell you what he has done,” Nigel declared.

“He has slain the Comyn and assumed the crown. Here is Robert, King of Scots!”

The two women stared, even Christian silenced. They both rose to their feet.

Bruce, still in his armour, strode forward to take his wife’s hand.

“My heart,” he said, “What can I say to you? I have done what is beyond telling, this day. I come to you with hands stained with blood. I slew Comyn, yes. But not in fair fight. I dirked him, with this hand. And in church. Before God’s altar! I come to you, a murderer…!”

“No!” Nigel insisted.

“It is not so. He struck him down, yes.

But not to the death. Kirkpatrick it was that killed him. Later.”

“Besides, Comyn called him traitor! And struck him with his hand. I saw it, heard it.” Thomas told them, voice breaking with emotion.

“I murdered him,” Bruce repeated evenly.

“Whoever finished my work. Drew on him, when his hands were empty…”

“In a church, you say?” Elizabeth faltered.

“An altar…?”

“Aye—God pity me! He fell… against the altar.”

“So long as he fell!” Christian commented briefly.

“That man is better dead.”

Elizabeth bit her lip.

“I am sorry, Robert.”

“Yes. It was ill done. I lost my wits. A kind of madness. I scarce knew what I had done. Until too late…”

“God in His heaven!” Nigel cried exasperatedly.

“All this talk of what is of no matter anyway! The death of a proven traitor-who had to die. And naught said of what matters everything! That now you are King of Scots. And you, Elizabeth, are Queen.” He ran forward, to half-bend one knee, as far as his armour would let him, and took her hand.

“Highness!” he said, kissing it.

“Your most faithful subject and servant.” His younger brother hastened to follow suit.

Elizabeth shook her head.

“It is less simple than that, I fear,” she said sadly.

“Aye. Nigel speaks in innocence,” Bruce agreed grimly.

“Would that innocence were mine! Apart from the guilt on me, do you not see what this must cost? I am no true King until my coronation. And for that I require the aid of Holy Church. Think you Holy Church will smile on a murderer?”

“Why must you call it murder … ?”

“Because that is what it was. Moreover, it is what my enemies will call it.”

“But the chief churchmen are your friends, not your enemies.

Lamberton, Wishart, and the rest.”

“Not all. Cheyne, of Aberdeen. Andrew, of Argyll. Both Comyn men.

And have you forgot Master William, cleverer than any?

Who saw the deed done. The Comyns have many churchmen. The Pope is now no friend to Scotland. These will petition him for my excommunication-nothing surer. And if they do not, Edward will! And an excommunicated man could not be anointed King!”

There was silence for a little. Then Christian spoke.

“It is a long way to Rome,” she observed.

“Aye. There lies my one hope. A swift coronation, before my enemies’ emissaries can reach the Pope and bring back his edict.

Without the Pope’s authority, only the Primate could excommunicate, I believe. And Lamberton will not do that, I think. All, then, depends on haste.”

“All …?” Elizabeth echoed.

“You do not fear the excommunication itself?”

“I fear the righteous wrath of God,” he told her levelly.

“I

know well that I have grievously incurred it. In itself, I have no reason to fear any man’s lesser condemnation.” Bruce took her hand.

“My heart—what I have done was a great sin. But that done, the rest had to follow. You will see it? The kingship. I had to act. Forthwith. There could be no delay. All then fell to be won, or lost.

You understand?”

“I understand that, yes.”

“I endanger you, by it. Endanger all here. I know it well. I have told these two. I tell you. The decision was mine. Others need not suffer for it. You—you are free to choose.”

”I am your wife.”

“To be sure. But this is a desperate venture. A new life that, short or long, will never again be the same. And liker to be short than long, I fear!”

“I married Robert Bruce for better or for worse. I knew when we were wed that this day might dawn. Would almost certainly dawn. I did not think to see it happen this way, Robert—but what of that? I am your wedded wire—whatever you have done.

And now, it seems, your queen.”

“That, see you, Edward will never forgive.”

“Edward is no longer my king. You are, my dear.”

He raised the hand he held to his lips.

“I thank you, lass.”