The Hammer of the Scots (50 page)

It proved that she had been right to call a halt for she had not been there more than a few days when she began to feel her pains.

She took to her bed for it was clear that the child was about to be born.

There was great rejoicing when it arrived for it was the hoped-for boy.

‘I shall call him Thomas,’ said the Queen, ‘for I know that it is to St Thomas that I owe this great joy.’

So the child was Thomas and a message was sent to the King to tell him that the Queen was safely delivered of a boy.

Edward received the news with joy. He was at York and ready to march on Scotland. Seven thousand horse and eighty thousand foot under his skilful generalship would soon put Wallace to flight.

It was a good omen, he said, that the child was a boy and healthy. It was Heaven’s answer to his doubts whether he should have married again. Eleanor in Heaven was looking down on him with that bland understanding which she had shown him throughout their lives.

As soon as the Queen was well enough to travel he wanted her to take the child to Cawood Castle and there he would be able to see them before he set out for Scotland.

Marguerite quickly recovered from her confinement and was eager to set out, and in a few weeks was on her way to Cawood, that castle which was situated on the south bank of the Ouse which the archbishops of York had used as a residence as far back as the tenth century. Like most castles it had little comfort to offer but as this was high summer they suffered more from the smell of the privies than the cold.

Edward’s visit was a hasty one for he had much on his mind. It was depressing to contemplate that after all his efforts Wallace should have managed to rally Scotland and challenge his supremacy.

He was delighted with the boy though and told Marguerite that nothing could have pleased him better and given him more heart for what lay ahead than the sight of her with their baby.

‘My lord,’ she asked timidly, ‘I have said he shall be Thomas, but if it is your wish …’

‘It is yours,’ he said fondly, ‘and therefore Thomas shall be his name. As for myself, I think at such a time it is well to honour the saint of Canterbury. I may need his help.’

She was anxious at once. ‘But you are going to subdue the Scots with all speed.’

‘Subdue them, yes, but with speed who can say? This fellow Wallace has caught the imagination of the people. They have made a hero of him. It is never easy to conquer a national hero as one who is despised. Baliol was easy. A weak man. This Wallace is different. But never fear, by the time our next son is born I shall have subdued the Scots and taught them what it means to flout me.’

Then he kissed her fondly and talked to her of his plans as he used to talk to Eleanor; and she listened attentively, so meekly and with such adoration that it might have been his first wife sitting there.

He joined his armies and marched across the Border. There was no resistance. But the Scots had laid waste to the countryside so there were no provisions. Good general that he was he had foreseen this and had ordered ships to sail up the Forth with what his army should need.

These were late in coming and he was fraught with anxiety. So many armies had been beaten through lack of supplies.

He took Edinburgh and waited there, and it was the end of July before the ships began to arrive.

There came also some of his spies who had roamed the country in the guise of beggars and pedlars. They had news for him. The Scots under Wallace were at Falkirk.

‘We shall attack without delay,’ said Edward, and he led his army to Linlithgow Heath, there to await the moment to go into action.

It was evening when he rode round his camp making sure that all was well and to give heart to his men. It had always been so. He knew they looked to him. When they saw his tall figure on its horse some new strength came to them. They had the belief that in battle he was invincible. He knew that that belief must be upheld and with an enemy like Wallace who would have a similar effect on his men, it was more than ever important to maintain it.

These men would follow him wherever he went and if he told them that victory was possible, no matter what odds they faced, they would believe him.

He did not, however, believe he faced fearful odds now, for even though Wallace had built up an aura about himself, that could not stand against a corresponding aura of a king who had proved himself a great warrior for many years and led a well-disciplined army. The Scots must lack the training of Edward’s men. They had beaten the troops of the garrison towns but that was not the English army. Wallace was a brave man. He respected Wallace. He understood Wallace. But if he captured him he would show no mercy. It was not good statesmanship to show mercy to the man who was responsible for driving him out of Scotland.

His son should be with him now. He was disappointed in Edward. He was showing himself to be unworthy of the crown. He had thought of this ever since he had held his young son Thomas in his arms. But a baby. It was years before
he
would grow to manhood. And in the meantime there was Edward. Edward had no desire to learn to be a king; he preferred to frivol away his time with companions like himself.

It had been a mistake to send Gaveston’s boy to him. He was getting quite a hold on him, Edward was following him slavishly as though their roles were reversed. He heard bad reports from their guardians.

Edward, soon to be seventeen, was no longer a young boy. He was old enough to show some manhood. Oh yes, he was very worried about Edward. He could not talk to Marguerite about him. It would seem disloyal to Eleanor in some way, but perhaps Marguerite heard tales of her stepson’s behaviour. If she did she was too tactful to say so.

He must stop brooding on family affairs. There was a battle to think of.

Daybreak. The trumpets were sounding. The men were rising and there was that excitement throughout the camp which must precede a battle. The King’s horse was frisky that morning. He was startled by the blare of the trumpets and seemed to resent the bustle and activity about him.

The King’s groom was waiting when Edward came out.

There was a grim satisfaction about him. Today was the day when he would begin to bring an end to the legend of William Wallace.

He was about to leap into the saddle when the horse turned abruptly. Edward was thrown to the ground and the horse attempting to move off kicked the King in the ribs.

The pain shot through him and fear with it, for he had heard the crack of bone.

Oh God in Heaven, he thought, on such a day!

It would be considered an omen. They would go into battle telling themselves that God had turned against them. The stories they had heard of the invincible Wallace were true. They would go into battle … without the King … and Wallace would be triumphant.

Never, Edward told himself. He stood up a little shakily. He put his hand to his side. The pain made him wince. He guessed that his ribs were broken.

His groom said, ‘My lord, you are hurt.’

‘Nay,’ growled the King. ‘Say not so. ’Twas nothing. Bring back the horse. It was the trumpets that startled him.’

The horse was brought. He patted its head. ‘Nothing to fear, my boy,’ he murmured. ‘Nothing to fear.’ And he was thinking, Oh God, how could You do this to me? First You favour this man Wallace and now You break my ribs just as I must lead my men into battle. But You’ll not beat me. It’ll need more than broken ribs to do that.

‘Help me up,’ he said. The groom did so.

He sat there for a second and then rode forward.

‘Ready!’ he cried. ‘What are you waiting for?’

The Scottish cavalry turned and fled; the archers followed them, but the infantry stood firm. Edward was invincible; seated firmly in the saddle he gave no sign that his broken ribs were causing him to be in agony as he shouted his orders and his men could always see him in the forefront of the battle.

None could stand against him. The Scots were fierce in their patriotism; they believed Wallace could lead them to victory. But this was mighty Edward whose name had filled them with dread even as Wallace’s had with pride.

He was there in person – the great King before whom Baliol had bowed, and young Bruce had not raised his hand. Only Wallace had stood against him. But even Wallace was no match for Edward Plantagenet.

It was bitter defeat for the Scots. Twenty thousand of them perished while few English lives were lost in exchange.

They had felt Edward’s might and they remembered it from the past. He had conquered Wales and vowed to do the same to Scotland. Even Wallace was no match for him.

The bedraggled Scots fled back to their mountain stronghold and Edward rode on to Stirling.

The Scots had taken the precaution of laying the land waste, but the English decided to rest there for a while. It was necessary for the King to recover from his injury.

He first saw to the defences of the castle and gave orders for his men to spy out what was happening in the land, attack where necessary and bring back what booty could be found.

Meanwhile he must retire to his bed, his physician in attendance. The neglected broken ribs must heal as quickly as was possible.

Fifteen days passed before he could sit a horse and the incident had aged him considerably, but his splendid vitality which was mental rather than physical was again with him. It was as though he defied fate to harm him while he had work to do.

He had subdued the land below the Forth; and he had no doubt that Wallace was re-forming his armies in the north; but Edward knew that if he advanced the problem of supplies would be acute, and he had no intention of making that error which a lesser general might have been tempted to do.

He marched through Clydesdale to Ayr, his intention being to go into Galloway, but again the spectre of the lack of equipment and food rose before him. He could not be sure that he could be successful. Moreover some of the lords were getting restive, the Earls of Hereford and Norfolk among them. Their men and horses were becoming exhausted; they needed a rest after such a campaign, they said; but the King suspected they were disappointed because they had received no Scottish land or castles as payment for their fidelity to their King. Edward would remember that; but at the same time disgruntled earls could be as much a hazard as lack of supplies. He must satisfy himself that he had crushed Wallace’s rebellion, and that it must be some time before the Scots could get together an army for their losses had been great.