The Forest Laird(162)
Will peered down at his hands, digging some ingrained dirt from the side of one fingernail with the nail of his thumb.
“I have been thinking about that, my lord, and I have reached a decision. I told you I would fight, if it came to war and if you gave me a leader to follow, but though the war is here, I have yet to hear of such a leader. Frankly, this matter of the earls raiding into England bothers me. It seems too … indeterminate, with too much left to chance. Edward’s army stands ready at Newcastle. He will march north from there, towards Berwick. Why, then, are the earls striking at Carlisle? What is to be gained there?” He threw up his hands. “Nothing, except the business of Bruce and Comyn, making war upon each other for the benefit of England, when they should be marching to reinforce Berwick.”
The Bishop hawked loudly, then spat into the fire. “You might well be right, William, but we can influence none of that from here. Besides, Berwick wants and needs no help. They have the strongest burgh walls in all Scotland, and they are determined they will hold William at the border.”
“Perhaps,” Will growled. “Aye. Perhaps, indeed. We can but hope so. But I mislike the smell of all this, and I would like to see more solid planning, for the need to fight is clear. Edward of England has declared a war against this realm without just cause, and every man in Scotland must stand up and fight for it.”
The Bishop raised a hand. “Edward believes his cause is just, William. I have no doubt of that. He believes absolutely that his status as overlord of Scotland is valid and that this realm is his fiefdom. By extension, King John is his feudal vassal and is now squarely in open rebellion against his lord by having made alliance with Edward’s enemy, Philip of France. That is why Edward has declared war: to depose his faithless vassal, John Balliol, King of Scotland.”
“But that is—”
“That is what? Outrageous? Infamous? Damnable?”
“Aye, all of those.”
“It is indeed, from where we look at it, but it is none of those if you believe as Edward does. But his claim is based on ancient Norman law, law that has never been enshrined or observed in Scotland since William the Bastard first landed in England, two hundred and thirty years ago. Norman lawmakers might wish it otherwise, but Scots law is far older than theirs, and the realm of Scotland has never been Norman. That is the fallacy underlying Edward’s claims, and that is why his lawyers, both civil and canonical, have worked so hard to cloak his every action in a veil of legalseeming obscurities.
“And that, I suggest to you, is the main reason for what you see as the shiftiness and unreliability of the magnates—and most particularly the Norman-Scots magnates—in this matter of loyalties. They live in a state of constant confusion, not because they are stupid or untrustworthy but simply because they do not know what to believe, Will. Their family histories and traditions are strongly rooted in the ancient system of feudalism and chivalry, wherein everything was clearly defined and there was no room for doubt. Now my brethren and I are telling them otherwise, preaching from a book of new ideas, proposing new values that fly in the face of everything they have been taught and are predisposed to believe in. That is why they vacillate so much, Will.”
My cousin sat listening blank-faced, his chin resting on his steepled fingers.
“These are not learned men, but neither are they inept. They are not ignorant in the laws of duty and chivalry, but they are unlettered and unread. They believe in actions, not ideas, and they respond to actions, not to words written on paper or recited by clerics. That is the truth, Will, and we cannot alter it within mere weeks or months. That is the way this world of ours functions. And I believe the magnates, for all their supposed powers, are afraid of the way their world is changing. Their way of life requires stability and permanence, but even the positive changes nowadays, such as the emergence of the burgesses, must seem threatening to the old guard. In their world, where change is anathema, everything now seems to be in flux.”
Will grunted, and I saw Lamberton’s eyebrows go up as Wishart’s came down in a frown.
“And what is that supposed to mean?” the Bishop growled.
“It means that I agree with you,” Will said, his eyes unfocused. “And that must be the first time on that topic. I confess I find it hard to imagine the Earl of Buchan being afraid of change. Still, I’ll not dispute what you have said, except to say that not everything in their world is in flux. I can see one thing that is dangerously static, and I see it very clearly.”
“Aye? And what is that?”