The Renegade(198)

“Certainly not, nor has His Majesty any intention of so doing. Having solved the problem in Scotland and established the peace again, he is even now on his way back here.”

Bruce sat back, frowning. “Pardon me, Sir Robert, but I am confused. In fact I am completely at a loss. I know I am only a simple knight, with little of a head for such affairs of state, but how can this be?”

FitzHugh smiled tolerantly. “Frankly, I can understand your confusion, my lord earl, but it really is quite a simple matter, in terms of feudal constitution. As you know well, King Edward is feudal overlord of Scotland, ratified as such by the Scots nobility several years ago. The King of Scotland, who was party to that ratification, was, and remains above and beyond all else, a feudal vassal of House Plantagenet. You yourself repossessed those assets that he held in that stead here in the south. This brief, unfortunate war we have lived through was precipitated by the actions of John Balliol— with the aid of his council of advisers, certainly—but Balliol was King there at the time, and in seeking alliance with Philip of France, King Edward’s mortal enemy, and thereafter declaring war against England, he rebelled flagrantly against his feudal overlord. It was on those grounds that His Majesty dispensed his justice, proceeding not as one king against another, but as lord paramount of Scotland against a rebellious vassal who happened to be a king and used that circumstance to foment both war and rebellion. In feudal law, King Edward’s hands were tied by the legalities of the situation. He had no other option in law than to insist that the delinquent vassal resign his fief. And that resignation had perforce to entail the loss of his kingship and the breaking of the seal by which he had committed his subjects to join him in his rebellion. That forfeited fief will remain in the King’s hands henceforth.”

“But what about the realm? The kingdom?”

“The rule of that is held in abeyance until another monarch be chosen. In the meantime, King Edward will rule directly from England, through an apparatus established to make that possible.”

Bruce slowly shook his head, his eyes still wide with incomprehension, and the old minister continued.

“I know what you are thinking. This has all happened very quickly. But that victory at Dunbar, despite the folly of the move that sent our cavalry where it should not have gone, was the decisive moment of the war. King Edward moved immediately and took Dunbar Castle, then struck north with the utmost speed, and as he went, the Scots castles all fell before him. Edinburgh held out for nigh on a month before surrendering, but in Stirling, the strongest fortress in all Scotland, our scouts found the castle being held by a single gatekeeper, who fled when they approached. Fiasco was the word I used, and it’s an apt one.

“King John fled northward, to beyond the River Forth, demonstrating to the world that he was even less effective as warrior and leader than he had been as monarch. He sued for peace terms soon after the fall of Edinburgh and was finally brought to trial for his crimes, at a place called … Brechin? Does that sound correct to you? My memory is not what it used to be and these alien Scots names can be devilish.”

“Brechin Castle. Aye, it’s in the east, in Fife, close to Montrose on the coast there. What happened at Brechin?”

“King John was arraigned there, no more, by Bishop Bek. And your memory is correct. He was then moved to the nearby burgh of Montrose. On July the seventh, he annulled and abjured the French alliance publicly and formally—his last act as a King. He was then legally deposed and taken into custody the following day, stripped of his royal arms, his seal broken, his monarchy abolished and annulled.”

“Good God! And the Scots stood by for this?”

The old man spread his hands, palms up. “What else could they do, with their army defeated and the front rank of their nobility in custody? But privily I have been told that they were massively relieved to see the end of him and his unfortunate reign.”

“July the eighth, you say? That was mere weeks ago. The news reached you quickly.”

“It had to, for the good of England’s realm and government. But the news is not yet widely known. That was the content of the meetings I have been conducting these past two days. Strictly speaking, I should not have informed you of any of this, but it will be common knowledge within the week and there will be great celebrations when King Edward returns home.”

Bruce began to thank Sir Robert for his time but then hesitated, struck by another thought. “Berwick,” he said.

“What about it?”

“I heard a tragic tale from a seaman who was offshore there on the day of the King’s attack. He spoke of great loss of life and the town being burned. I found that scarcely credible, but he was there, he said, and insisted he had seen what he had seen. Was slaughter done there? And if so, why?”