I winced, despite knowing it was not a wise thing to do. I looked back at Will to try to guess at what had been said already, but he seemed unruffled.
“Aye, well,” I said, struggling to find my tongue and straighten out my thoughts. “His wife will make a father of him within the next few days. Events like that have been known to make men re-evaluate their lives and how they live them.”
“We are aware of that, Father James.” Now the icy chill in that quiet voice was radiating towards me. “I find Will’s motives admirable, and his desire to be with his wife and child could not be more laudable. The timing of all this, however, could not be more unfortunate.”
“Forgive me, my lord. The timing of all what?”
The Bishop moved his head to look at me, a quirk of annoyance appearing between his brows. “Must I lay it all out like a map in front of you?”
I felt my chin go up in spite of knowing I should not react. “I fear you must, my lord, for I have been in these woods for nigh on four months, and we hear little of the outside world here.”
I saw Will bend forward slightly, and when I glanced at him, I found him looking at me and he closed one eye in a long, approving wink. The Bishop, though, had gone stock-still, staring straight ahead. And then the stiffness left his posture and he sank back into his chair.
“Forgive me, Father James. You have every right to chastise me. Come, then, and sit down, and I will bring you up to date on all that has been going on in Scotland and in England.”
He waited until I was seated across from him and then he raised one hand, fingers spread, preparing to enumerate points as he made them.
“You left Glasgow to come down here as minister to your new flock soon after the Old Robert Bruce died, towards the end of April, did you not?”
“Aye, my lord, the twenty-eighth of April.”
“Right. And then in June, Will’s men launched several actions in response to the illegal activities of certain … people in these parts. That created a stir at the time, but though much was achieved here, it was regarded by the powers in the land to be a local issue, a minor disturbance that faded to insignificance against the backdrop of what was taking place elsewhere. And then came July, and many matters came to a head. The first ten days of July of the year of our Lord 1295 will prove, I believe, to have been a memorable time.
“On the third of the month, I set my name and episcopal seal, in the company of others, as witness to a royal charter from King John of Scotland. Those others were four belted earls—Buchan, Strathearn, Dunbar, and Mar—along with Patrick de Graham and John Comyn, Lord of Badenoch. An illustrious group of witnesses, by any gauge. The import of the charter was to grant lands in Douglasdale, forfeited by the rebellious Sir William Douglas, to the Englishman Antony Bek, Prince Bishop of Durham and King Edward of England’s former deputy in Scotland.”
I was aware that my mouth was hanging open. “Bek?” I said eventually. “They gave Douglas’s lands to Bek?”
“Aye, they did.” The Bishop’s voice was flat. “Sir William Douglas stands convicted of sedition and rebellion and all his lands and goods are forfeit to the Crown. It is regrettable, but the man brought this judgment down upon himself through his own obstinacy. He was warned often enough, advised to pull in his horns, but he always was a bull, headstrong and wilful and heedless of what others thought. He behaved like a tyrant king within his own lands, and some argue that was his right, but he crossed the true King elsewhere in the realm, acting as though he were a law unto himself, and that was his undoing. His behaviour was little short of brigandage and treason, and he has paid the price for it.”
“But Bek, my lord! What folly is there, to make a gift of Scots lands to a man whose hatred of the realm is common knowledge—”
“Consider, Father James.” Wishart’s voice was minatory but not impatient, warning me to say no more. “The gifting was King John’s, a gesture of goodwill towards his royal cousin, England’s King. Would you take issue with your monarch over it?” I closed my mouth, restricting my protest to a frown as the Bishop continued. “The wishes of the likes of we four here weigh nothing in such matters, and besides, the gifting of Bek was rendered insignificant two days later, on the fifth of July.”
Lamberton cleared his throat quietly, steepling his fingers beneath his nose as though to pray and gazing at me from beneath a slightly raised eyebrow. I could almost feel the question hovering on my lips, and I knew they were waiting for me to ask it. I turned slightly to look directly at the Bishop.