Sisters of The Bruce 1292-1314 (Abridged Version )

Sisters of The Bruce Chapter16.14

                                                                                               XIV

Scotland

December 1306

Dearest Isa,

When I was crowned in March, Elizabeth gently mocked me and called her poor husband, the King of Summer. Now, there is no laughing, for I am the King of Bleak Winter. So many dear, loyal friends are dead, all within the past months. In late March, I was crowned at the Abbey of Scone.

"Robert the First, by the grace of God, King of Scots!" I heard them shout. What a grand sound that was, after these many years of mishap and mayhem. Grandfather would have smiled, just a little. The bishops of St Andrews, Glasgow and Moray – as well as the earls of Atholl, Lennox, Menteith and Mar – were present. The young Earl of Celtic Fife, the MacDuff, was held in England; his sister, Isobel, rode from Aberdeen to conduct the ceremony, as is their family's right. Her Comyn husband would have been ill-pleased. A comforting thought, indeed!

As I expected, the reaction of King Edward was swift and brutal. He sent Aymer de Valence, Earl of Pembroke, into Scotland, together with Henry Percy and Robert Clifford, and a huge host from his northern shires of England. There, they met with the Comyns and their supporters including the Earls of Dunbar and Strathearn. They killed any of our friends upon whom they could lay their hands and arrest. In Fife, they were able to seize the bishops of both St Andrews and Glasgow, although they were not murdered, but thrown into deep dungeons in the south of England. Old men forced to walk the length of the land in chains! The English with over six thousand men seized Perth, and I rode south with a similar army to confront them. Outside the walls of Perth, I challenged Pembroke to bring out his men and fight or to surrender the town and leave Scotland. Our heralds agreed he would come out the next day and with that assurance, I retired a few miles to Methven to camp.

Well, I now know better the chivalric code of Pembroke. He led his army in a night time attack upon my sleeping men. I was almost captured by Sir Phillip Mowbray, but Chris Seton, Kirsty's man, knocked him down. A little group of us were able to cut our way out of the press: Edward, Thomas and Alexander, along with the Earl of Atholl, James Douglas, Neil Campbell and Gilbert Hay. It was a grievous defeat.

We collected the royal womenfolk who were nearby under the protection of Niall. I had thought of getting the women to you in Norway then, but word came that an English fleet was waiting to intercept them. Pembroke advanced into Mar, so I had to head for the west and the safety of the Hebrides where Angus Macdonald holds sway in his isles. We got as far as Tyndrum where the Abbot of Inchafray and his Culdee monks granted me absolution for the death of Comyn. Copious blessings came my way for my role in upholding the ancient Celtic church. Just a few miles beyond, we were ambushed in the pass of Dalry by Macdougall of Lorne, the son-in-law of John Comyn. Indeed, I had my own cloak wrenched from my shoulder by one of the Macdougall clansmen.

On retreating, it was clear the way to the Hebridean Sea was blocked. So we gave our remaining horses to Elizabeth and the women who were escorted back to Kildrummy, through his own country, by the Earl of Atholl. The plan was for them to head north to the Orkneys, once rested and thence to you, whilst Niall held Kildrummy for as long as possible against Pembroke.

For the rest of us, it was a case of taking to the hills on foot. Neil Campbell went ahead to arrange a galley to take us from Loch Long to Kintyre, whilst we followed on behind with many men wounded. At length, we got to Loch Lomond and found a rowing boat to get us to the west side and then heard the Earl of Lennox was not dead. He had escaped and was living on the islands in the loch. With his help, we got to the rendezvous with Neil Campbell and thence to Kintyre and the Macdonald lands.

Since then, I have been gathering men from the western isles with the help of Angus Macdonald and Christina of Garmoran and Moidart. We have also been on the Isle of Rathlin and in the north of Ireland – briefly for the danger is great – rallying men to the cause. The intention is to begin our counter-attacks early in the new year using Kintyre as the springboard back onto mainland Scotland.

'Til then, I will over-winter in Orkney and hope the distance and poor weather will bring a measure of safety. We badly need respite from all this toil and hardship and I look forward to meeting up with our kin. I hope and pray our womenfolk are safely with you in Norway. I pass this letter to Svein Thorkelson who is trading for dried fish on the west coast of Scotland. Treat him well if this message gets to you – he has a mighty thirst! Pray for Scotland. It is badly needed and, Isa, for our safety's sake place this missive into the flames after reading.

Rob

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It was Svein's mighty thirst which was to prove his undoing; a man given to less avarice and bravado might have kept to his bed and waited for the skies to clear. Whilst the storm raged overhead and the waves grew even higher, Robert's letter floated to the ocean floor amidst the debris of the captain's galley.