Page 42 of Bound By Honor
Angus’ father, still standing, reminded those gathered that they were at a significant point in the history of the kingdom. From the look of grim determination on each face, it was clear the chiefs had come prepared to do hard business.
“We are a part of Scotland,” said Angus Mor, “yet never dominated by it. Even when we were arguably subject to Norway’s kings, we were independent sea lords, reigning over the Isles and the western shores with no ties save those we ourselves sought.
“Since we set aside our crowns to become barons of Scotland, we are warmly welcomed at the court of the King of Scots. But all that may soon change. I asked my son, Angus, to visit each of you before this meeting so that we have common knowledge as to where things stand. England’s king will soon decide who rules the Scots. If it’s to be Robert the Noble, the eldest Bruce, then I believe we will have strong and worthy leadership. But should John Balliol be chosen, I fear the Comyns and MacDougalls will seek to expand their power at our expense.
“We cannot hope what is coming will pass over us like a fast-moving storm. Rather, I perceive it may linger to our detriment. We must decide today what our position will be before events take their course. I would ask that your deliberations be open, respectful and honest. Whatever the decision of the Council, all must abide by it. ’Tis our way.”
The Lord of the Isles resumed his seat and many heads nodded in agreement.
Tormod Macleod slowly got to his feet. Angus was not surprised that he should speak first, for it was fitting the elder chiefs would do so.
“I have seen much in my days and my ancestors even more. I do not wish to live through another war between clans but I fear one may be coming. In this, we who are a part of the lordship must stand as one. As for me and the Macleods, we stand with the Bruces. That will not alter should the English king select John Balliol or, indeed, another.”
The next member of the Council to speak was Maolmuire, chief of the MacMillans. The proud chief got to his feet, his black hair and beard defining his sharp features. “As most here know, the MacMillans have their roots on Iona in the Columban Church. Our allegiance to God and to our people has never wavered. We must pray God gives us a worthy king. I have brought my brother, Duncan, with me this day so that he can mark my oath to serve God and the lordship.”
As he returned to his seat, Malise Maclean rose, his dark hair and beard, streaked with gray, conveying his status as one of the elders. “The Macleans, too, stand with the Bruces if that be a choice. And we have ever stood with the Macdonalds. Whichever candidate King Edward selects will be forced to bow the knee to him and that is troublesome, particularly if that man be a weakling like Balliol. We must anticipate this and be prepared to fight.”
Others spoke, echoing the words of the elder chiefs so that the discussion continued for most of the morning. A few wanted to see how Balliol, if chosen, might do, but even they, after some discussion, were convinced that with Balliol so tightly aligned with the Comyns and MacDougalls, there was little chance the Macdonald lordship would be well considered.
As the meeting drew to a close, the younger chiefs rose and called for the Isles to be ready with galleys, weapons and galloglass should war come.
No one disagreed.
When it was clear how the Council would decide, Angus Mor rose, wisdom and strength in his face, the gray strands in his red hair speaking of his years of leading the lordship. A hushed silence fell over the assembled group as he began to speak. “My heart is gladdened to see we have come to agreement and are of one mind. ’Tis the result I had hoped for. I speak for the Macdonalds when I say we are with the Bruces, bound by a bond made years ago, which my sons are pledged to honor. We will not falter and we will not fail. And we will not serve a Balliol king. I agree with Malise Maclean. We must be prepared to fight if it comes to that.”
Pride rose in Angus’ chest as he heard shouts of acclimation and the pounding of boots stomping in agreement.
The chiefs stood as the Bishop of the Isles was asked to pray for their future. The prayer that followed was a somber reflection of the dark cloud hanging over the future and the need for God’s guidance.
Following the prayer, Angus’ father invited those present to drink a toast to their decision. Angus joined the others, lifting his goblet, and thinking of his own pledge to the youngest of the Robert Bruces. He would have to find a way to tell his friend that the Lord of the Isles and the clans of the lordship would stand by his family.
Ardtornish Castle, Morvern, December 1292
“I’LL NOT GO and that’s an end of it!” shouted Angus’ father as he ripped in twain the summons from King Balliol’s new Sheriff of Lorne, Alexander MacDougall. Tossing it into the fire, he said, “Balliol may be king by Edward’s decree but he mocks me if he thinks I will pay him homage. At the summons of his lackey Alexander MacDougall, no less!”
Angus watched his father in silence, recalling the Mackay seer’s vision of a wobbly scepter, which had surely come to pass. November had brought unwelcome news, much of it bad for both the Macdonalds and the Bruces. Early in the month, Marjorie Bruce, the Countess of Carrick, died. Angus remembered the captivating mother of his friend, whom he had met at Turnberry Castle six years before, and wondered at the cause, for she had died young.
As if her death were an omen of worse tidings to come, in Berwick, Robert the Noble’s claim was rejected. He was quick to react. “We inform all of you that we have granted, and totally surrendered, to our well-beloved son Robert Bruce, Earl of Carrick, and his heirs, the whole right and claim that we had, or could have had, to sue for the realm of Scotland.”
In turn, his son, Robert Bruce VI, Earl of Carrick, resigned the earldom to his oldest son. Thus, two generations of Bruces passed the torch to another, making Angus’ friend, Rob, an earl at eighteen and a contender for the crown.
The final blow, by then expected, occurred on the seventeenth of November when, in the great hall of Berwick Castle, King Edward pronounced in favor of John Balliol. Angus remembered his father’s face going pale at the news.
The Scottish nobles, particularly those close to Balliol, hurried to crown him. On St. Andrews’ Day, the last day of November, John Balliol was enthroned on the Stone of Destiny at Scone Abbey in the manner of all Scottish kings. Of no surprise to Angus or his father, King Edward was not present to witness the ceremony, which doubtless held little interest for him. However, Edward was quick to demand the new King of Scots kneel before him at Newcastle, which John Balliol did all too readily.
“A King of Scots who kneels to another king is no king at all,” Angus’ father had said at the time.
Angus recognized the weariness in his father’s face, the frustration that, of late, had grown worse with all that had happened in so short a time. With Balliol now king, the Comyns took control of the government and the spoils of high office went to them and their allies, among them the MacDougalls.
In furtherance of his new power, Balliol named three sheriffdoms: William, Earl of Ross, whose mother was a Comyn, was made Sheriff of Skye. Alexander MacDougall, Juliana’s father, was made Sheriff of Lorne with jurisdiction over much of Argyll so that he controlled the southwest coastline. And, in the southwest, James Stewart, High Steward of Scotland, one of the signatories to the Turnberry Band, was made Sheriff of Kintyre. The expansive territory of the Macdonalds meant that they were under the authority of both Stewart, a friend, and MacDougall, an enemy.
Before December’s end, Balliol had ordered Alexander MacDougall to summon Angus Mor to pay homage to the new King of Scots. It was this summons that Angus’ father had just tossed into the fire.
“What about the parliament in February?” asked Angus.
“Neither I nor the Bruces will attend.”
Apparently King Edward held little respect for his newly chosen King of Scots. As the year was drawing to a close, the English king announced, as Lord Paramount of Scotland, he would hear appeals from judgments made in Scotland. By this, he made clear he viewed himself as Scotland’s overlord.
