The Renegade(59)

“What veil, sir? My eyes are fine.”

A wolfish smile split the older man’s face. “Fine, I agree, but very young. Think about it. An island province, peopled by folk whose fatherland was Norway. Their fathers were Norwegian, as were all their ancestors. Then ask yourself how such a simple folk, untaught and unlettered, could conceive of, let alone draw up, a formal petition to a foreign king, begging his intercession on their behalf. Intercession into what, in the first place? There was no conflict anywhere. The Manxmen might have been unhappy, I’ll not argue against that. They’ve had scant recognition from any of us here for the past score years. But they have not been badly treated. They have not even been taxed. They’ve been … neglected, nothing more.”

“But it makes no sense. Unless … Are you suggesting, sir, that they might have been tutored in forming such a petition? By someone from outside? From England?”

Lord Robert spread his palms. “Can you suggest a better explanation? King Edward loves the forms of law.”

“But … that is treachery. Infamy. Theft. I cannot believe—”

“Believe it, Grandson. And it was not infamy, nor was it treachery. It was inspired kingcraft, and Edward is a king above and before all else. You might make a solid case for theft, but were I in his position, I might have done the same thing, had I had the wit to think of it. He secured the safety of his realm against a potential threat, increased his holdings at the same time, and did it all without a drop of blood being shed. When I heard of it I was as outraged as you are, but once I had thought about it for a while, I admired his foresight. And his daring.”

“And what did the other Guardians think?”

“In private? I know not, for I am not one of the council—have not been for years. Publicly, though, they did the only thing they could and accepted it with such good grace as they could muster, much as they are doing now with this Bek development, though again the death of the Queen must alter that.”

Rob frowned. “Bek development? Do you mean Bek of Durham?”

Lord Robert looked at his grandson in surprise, for his reference to Bek had been little more than a thought mused aloud and he had not expected a reaction to it. “Aye, Bek of Durham. Does the name mean something to you?”

“I’ve met him, Grandfather. In London. He came to meet with the King while I was there, and he stayed for weeks, then returned to Scotland after the signing of the treaty.”

“Aye, that’s what happened … How did he impress you? Did you speak with him?”

“No, sir, scarce at all. King Edward made me known to him when he arrived and I gathered that he had been assigned to Scotland on the King’s behalf, to prepare for the royal wedding. But I had no conversation with him other than to exchange greetings on that one occasion. He struck me as being more prince than bishop, though. A silent, disapproving, judgmental man, I thought, likely to be quick tempered and intolerant.”

“Aye,” Lord Robert growled, “that is Bek, all of those things and more. He is Edward’s man, head to foot, and dangerous … Were you aware that he had been promoted while he was there in London?” Rob shook his head. “Aye, well he was. He had been here for months, off and on, seeing to the arrangements for Birgham, but as soon as the treaty was signed he was dispatched back here, bearing a letter to the Guardians from Edward. It asked the council—supposedly—to ratify Bek’s appointment as Edward’s lieutenant in Scotland on behalf of his son Edward and Queen Margaret. In consideration of the need to preserve the peace and tranquility of the Scots realm is how I’m told he phrased it.”

“Could he do that?”

“He did it. And the Guardians bowed to it. It was a strange letter, from what I have heard, all flowery profusion and protestations of love, as is Edward’s way, and all thinly veiling an open warning not to challenge him in his wishes. None of the Guardians knew quite how to respond, for there was nothing blatantly unreasonable about the request, other than the letter itself and the fact of its delivery by Bek. You yourself would have seen no ill in his request. But believe me, it was a demand, an ultimatum lacking only an open threat. And that is what I need you to understand in all of this, Grandson—that your eyes are not yet old enough to see what is really there in front of them.”

He raised a finger, pointing for emphasis. “There is no fault in that and I am not blaming you for anything. You’ve done nothing wrong. You are merely young, seeing things with a boy’s eyes, and time will change all that. In the meantime, though, you have much to learn about men and kings, and because you are not merely a boy but a future Robert Bruce in this time and in this place, you will have to learn it all more quickly than others your age. You are my grandson, and you and I have not been close ere now, but from this day on I will do what I can to teach you in this craft, for craft it is, and learnable like any other. I had to learn it myself at your age, and I’ve profited by it. It has served me well, as it will you.