The Renegade(216)
The sound of the door closing seemed to echo in the silence before a sullen murmur erupted among those left behind. Sir John Heriot quelled them with an upraised hand and a sharp call for quiet. When the room was still again, the elder turned to look at Bruce.
“There you have it, my lord earl,” he said. “Better and more sudden than I could have told you. That’s the kind o’ thing that’s goin’ on in this sorry land these days.” He paused. “I hope ye’ll no’ mind my sayin’ so, but you and your faither hae no idea o’ what it’s like up here. Ye’re both secure in England, magnates who hae sworn oaths o’ fealty to Edward, livin’ in England’s peace an’ doin’ your duty by England’s King. Ye see nothin’ o’ what’s truly happenin’ here. For us, though, it’s a different story. We hae to live wi’ that kind o’ arrogance and anger—frae the English, I mean, no’ frae the likes o’ poor Sandy Armstrong. And that’s no’ easy to thole at the best o’ times. Never was. For years we wis worried about civil war, Bruce against Comyn, but that never cam to pass, thank God. Now, though, it’s far worse, and that’s why I canna agree to what ye ask, no’ wi’out a letter o’ instruction frae Annandale himsel’, and I doubt, gin he knew what was goin’ on here, he’d write such a thing.”
Bruce was sitting straight-backed now, frowning deeply, and he threw out his hands in exasperation. “Forgive me, Sir John, and all of you. I hear what you are telling me, and God knows this is not the first time I have heard such things. It is, though, the first time I have truly seen how bad things really are, all across this land—the first time I have really believed it. You must think me stupid indeed, but—”
“The fault’s no’ yours, Lord Carrick. It comes frae the life you’ve lived in the south. Down there, you’re a Scots earl, loyal to the English King for good and ample reason. Naebody here questions your allegiance—the lack o’ it, I mean—to Balliol. That was aey understood frae the outset, and ye behaved wi’ honour throughout all o’ that. But now Balliol is gone, and Scotland should be a better place … Except it’s no’. But here’s what ye need to think o’ now.
“Up till now, we was a’ Bruce men wi’ a duty to do Bruce’s biddin’, and that’s no’ changed. But now it’s no’ about Bruce’s will in Scotland—no’ completely or as clearly as it was in the past. Now it’s about England’s bein’ in Scotland, when they’ve nae right to be here. It’s about the depredations o’ the English sodgers an’ the way they treat the folk—rapin’ and murderin’ wi’ nae restraint and nae fear o’ reprisal. An’ it’s about the way the folk here look at what’s goin’ on. To them—to men like Sandy Armstrong an’ a host o’ others—it’s us and them, them bein’ the English. This Lord o’ Douglas whose castle ye’re sent here to burn isna rebellin’ against the English King. He’s up in arms about the damage bein’ done to his lands and his folk by people who shouldna be there in the first place. To them that lives hereabouts, he’s mair hero than rebel and mair patriot than outlaw—is that the right word, patriot?” He saw Bruce’s reluctant nod and grunted. “Aye. Anyway, ordinary folk hae nae interest in the high obligations o’ the magnates. To them, it’s a’ about their wives and bairns, their goodmen and kinfolk, about house and hearth and livin’ frae day to day wi’out fear o’ being hung or trampled on. And to them, that’s what Douglas is tryin’ to protect. There was a word your grandsire used to use. It was ‘perceptions,’ gin I recall it right. D’ye ken what that means, Lord Carrick?”
“Aye, I do, Sir John. I understand it well.”
“Aye, well the perceptions here in Scotland this day, among ordinary folk, is that there are Scots folk, livin’ on their ain lands, and then there’s Englishry, actin’ as though thae lands are theirs. The folk winna thole it, my lord. And I winna order my men, be they Armstrongs or any other here in Annandale, to ride out barefaced and be perceived to be helpin’ the English in puttin’ down their ain folk. Ye may think what ye will o’ me, but there it is.”
Someone among the silent knights sighed, but Bruce did not look towards the sound. Instead he sat chewing on what he had heard and eventually, reluctantly, he nodded.