Sisters of The Bruce 1292-1314 (Abridged Version )

Sisters of The Bruce: Part 2; Chapter 3.7

                                                                                               VII

Scotland

Dingwall Castle

December1309

Dearest Isa,

I pray all is well with you. Robert and his men have joined us for Yuletide celebrations. In preparation for the great feasts, the castle is buzzing with energy and action. Thankfully, Hugh is back. I have sore missed him and he, our dear child. It will take time before she settles with him. I urge him to be patient.

Down below the castle mound, the village is alive with revelers and music. Fire twirlers light the darkness with swirling flames. Acrobats and jugglers make their way about, as well. It has all the atmosphere of a fair. Boars roast on spits. There are games for the children and wrestling for the men. The rain has held off but dense clouds settle over us. A change is on the way.

Our brother holds little trust the Macdougalls will keep within his peace. Thus, he has been busy showing the royal presence in the Ross galleys, all the way from Loch Broom down to Argyll and Dunstaffnage Castle. This time, our men had sufficient food and warmth, and Rob returned in fair health. His men worry about him and the sickness which ails him. Hugh says the king can ill-afford such weakness; our enemies will regroup and forge ahead in the knowledge. On his way, Rob visited Christina of Gamoran who was kin by marriage to his first wife. On previous visits, it seems she welcomed him - most generously, Isa, for she has born a child to him, a lad called Alexander.

Edward says the widow is beautiful: a powerful aura surrounds her presence. In a castle by the sea she lives alone, but for her clansmen. Though he is king, I dared ask our brother about his visit. Strangely, he was not loath to discuss it as first I feared, but seemed almost relieved to talk of the fair Christina. He esteems her well, too well perhaps, which is a problem in itself. After the dreadful defeat at Methven and the long months fleeing danger, despair brought him low for all that had gone so awry. When she offered herself to him, he was sore of body and spirit and needed her support, which made him wary of giving offence. A king needs no such excuse. Though Rob loves Elizabeth, he fears they will be parted forever. Perhaps this will be so. Even now, there seems no way forward. In quiet moments, I have seen raw anguish upon his face, but he brushes me aside should I make mention of it; so I let it pass. No easy choices present themselves. I cannot bear to think we will never see our loved ones again.

It seems the old king met his match in Robert. No doubt he expected him to capitulate and seek terms of surrender in order to ransom his family. Rob said as much, but knew in doing so his freedom and, most likely, his life would have been forfeit, not to mention the Scottish crown. Rob says the only way forward is to win this war; then we will be in a position to negotiate our kinfolk's return. He holds as stubbornly to this as a drowning man clutches at a reed. To me, it all seems a long way off and these plans may never come to fruition.

Otto will take this missive tomorrow and run the gauntlet of the English blockade once more. Reports abound that King Edward is irate his embargo is being ignored. He even complained to the Count of Flanders about aid being sent to Scottish rebels. Indeed, Rob is most appreciative of the clothing, armour, weapons and food that arrives from Bergen and will send more of our fine Scottish wool that is so desirable.

The English king issued a military summons for all to gather next year to wage war on us once again. He sent his leaders to Berwick and Carlisle, but the men concluded a truce with Robert until January of next year. They lack the heart for a fight, preferring instead to squabble with Edward over his infamous paramour, Piers Gaveston. What must his French queen think about it all? At least it seems the barons are not keen to fight us, knowing full well there is no food for the horses or their men. They are not as foolhardy as their king.

Scotland and all her people are subject to another period of excommunication for 'persevering in iniquity' and supporting our crowned king! At first, it was worrisome, but now we have accepted our continued disfavour. One would think the Pope would not deign to concern himself with our small country; he continues to bicker with Rome and the French king. For some here, it is a dire punishment, but our brother has the support of many prelates within the Scottish church.

Snow is falling. The hours seem to slide and disappear and it is time to dress for the banquet. There are so many guests to feed and entertain, I must admit to feeling on edge. Having lived such a quiet life in Orkney, I am unused to crowds and ceremony. Now, under pressure, my wits desert me! Two of my maids are a great help. Mirin tends my wardrobe, whilst Janet has just taken Marjorie away to her cot. I am being harried now. Rob and Edward send their love, as do we all. Blessings to you for a happy Yuletide

Mathilda