Sisters of The Bruce 1292-1314 (Abridged Version )

Sisters of The Bruce: Part 2;Chapter 3.1

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Scotland

March 1309

It was an inclement day as only the east coast of Scotland could devise, unsure of its future from hour to hour. Much like my own kingship, Robert Bruce mused to himself. He had never quite lost the feeling of anxiety which had been his constant, unwanted companion for so many years.

The motley collection of wattle and daub buildings that made up the town of St Andrews was situated on the low North Sea coast and thus was influenced by all its capricious moods. The grey, choppy waves and heavy drift of cloud did nothing to dispel Robert's mixed emotions for, today, the first parliament of the Bruce government was being held at the cathedral. An uneasy mix of fear and elation churned in his gut as he glanced back from the low cliff to take in the melee that surrounded the imposing church. It was by far the biggest structure in this sacred place, but it was not yet complete.

Flags and coloured banners displayed the emblems of the earls of Ross, Caithness and Sutherland as well as many of the Scottish nobility. For the most part, they represented the northern and western parts of Scotland. The south was still making up its mind as it were, for there the presence of the English was strong, ensconced in their fortifications. Many of these were impregnable to all but the largest siege engines. Robert considered the task ahead of him, knowing full well it would take years to oust the English host from Scottish soil. His blood burned to achieve his goal, but there were many obstacles.

Looking out to sea, the king paused, inhaling the briny freshness to brace himself before facing such an influential gathering. He had used tenacity and force to strengthen his crown. Now, he needed wisdom to bring the assembly to his cause: a unified, independent Scotland free of the burdensome Sassenach yoke. Two men came to stand by his side. Bruce welcomed the Earl of Ross and his heir, Hugh, congratulating the latter on hearing of Mathilda's pregnancy. She was well, and Dingwall Castle would make a fine home for the young family. Once his most reviled enemy, now he counted the earl as a friend and kinship ties were strong with his sister married to the young heir. He took heart from this encounter.

Striding over to the cathedral, the men passed groups of tethered horses, food carts, and stacked weaponry and armour. Fires burned here and there. Aromatic wood and peat smoke added to the odours of sea wrack, horse dung and human effluent. Such a large gathering always ended up smelling like some foul midden. As he passed, the men of Argyll scowled. Some even hissed quietly, hooded eyes filled with menace and the venomous dislike of the powerless for the powerful. For men such as Alexander, Lord of Lorne, the Bruce was still the enemy. Following the defeat of his forces last year at the Pass of Brander, he was here under sufferance.

As Robert entered the cavernous abbey transept, he was met by the pervasive odour of incense. Passing down the central isle, he saw turned towards him, the open, expressive faces of his dear friends, all as family to him now. In the crowd, he caught the broad, ruddy face of young Earl Magnus and smiled, acknowledging his presence with a wave. Beside him sat his mentor, Master Weland, who had relinquished his formal role as guardian. Here was a man to whom he was indebted, one of many if truth be known. A warm smile touched the king's eyes as he inclined his head, greeting his old friend. Present also were the bishops and significant clerics of the land. They were an essential part of this parliament, for most were well-versed in law and administration. Their support was imperative given his enemy, John Comyn, had been killed on the sacred altar of the Kirk in Dumfries. He would not back away from this. What is done is done, he thought to himself, and nothing, neither my shame nor deep regret, can change it.