Joanna had begun to love him for he showed her clearly that he was going to look after her. He understood just how she felt in leaving her family and he wanted her to know that while he was near her she would have nothing to fear from anyone.

So it was a great relief to know that he had been appointed one of the Regents of Scotland and he would be in close contact with her and the young King.

But alas there was this vow he had made and he must set out with the heart of Robert the Bruce in order to keep his promise.

When he came to say good-bye to them he showed them the casket of gold in which the heart of Robert the Bruce was carried. The children held it and marvelled at it and Black Douglas told them what a brave heart it had been.

‘The Scots will never forget what they owe to Robert the Bruce,’ he told them.

Joanna was fearful though when he left. A loneliness came over her which was almost like a premonition of evil.

‘The Earl of Moray will watch over you,’ he had comforted her. ‘All you have to do is what he tells you. And soon I shall be back.’

Thomas Randolph, Earl of Moray was the cousin of Robert the Bruce. He had served with his uncle and had been closer to him than any man and he had made him Regent with Douglas to help him, on his death bed. Moray was an honourable man; there was no one Robert the Bruce could have placed greater trust in. There was a dignity about Moray and a determination to do what his uncle would expect of him, and Joanna felt as safe with Moray as she had with Douglas.

So when Douglas set out on his mission she felt that while one of those who were so important to her and David had gone, the other remained and as Douglas said he would come back soon.

Alas, there was sad news of Douglas.

Moray came to the children that he himself might tell them what had happened.

He sat down and drew them to him and as they stood beside him he placed an arm about each of them.

‘There is sad news of Black Douglas,’ he said quietly.

He felt Joanna start and went on gently : ‘I know you loved him. He looked fierce sometimes, didn’t he?’

Joanna nodded. She had heard the story of how he had almost captured her brother. She had thought him a fearful man until she met him and he himself had told her the story. ‘It was war,’ he had said. ‘War is a terrible thing, my Queen. We want to avoid it all we can.’

‘He was not really fierce,’ said Joanna. ‘When will he come home?’

Moray shook his head. ‘You are a King and a Queen,’ he reminded them, ‘and when there is bad news it is better for you to know it at once. Douglas will never come back. He is dead.’

‘Dead,’ cried David shrilly. ‘He cannot be dead!’

‘Alas, my little lord, he is. He took the heart of your father from this land as you know. He went to Alfonso the King of Castile and Leon because he knew that he was fighting a war against the Saracen King of Granada.’

‘I thought he was to go to the Holy Land,’ said Joanna.

‘It matters not, my lady, whether a knight goes to Jerusalem or Spain as long as he fights for Christ against the Infidel. So there will be just as much merit in God’s eyes to fight in Spain as in Jerusalem. So to Spain went Black Douglas. He fought bravely on the plains of Andalusia but when the battle was won he pursued the fleeing Moors. He went too far and suddenly he was cut off from his friends. He carried the Bruce’s heart and knowing of course that he could not come out of this affray alive he flung the heart from him into the midst of his enemy and followed it as he had followed Robert the Bruce during his lifetime.’

‘They ... killed him,’ whispered Joanna.

Moray nodded. ‘But the Moors respected a brave man. They will send his body home to Scotland and we shall bury it here.’

Both children were crying. They would never see Black Douglas again; but Joanna who was the elder thought: He will not be there to protect us any more.

But they had the dear Earl of Moray. They were safe while they had him.


* * *

That there was some trouble afoot Joanna was aware. No one told her of course but she could sense a certain tension in the castle. She listened to the conversation of attendants and servants, for she felt it was important to know what was going on now that Black Douglas was dead and the Earl of Moray had to be away so much.

There was one name she kept hearing mentioned and that was Baliol.

‘Who is Baliol?’ she asked one of her women who was the sort who liked to gossip and who, Joanna had discovered, was more likely to impart information than some of them.

‘Baliol, my lady. You will be meaning Edward Baliol. He is the son of John Baliol, who was at one time King of Scotland. I dareswear Master Edward thinks he has a right to the crown. That would not surprise me.’

‘But David is King. He was crowned and so was I.’

‘That’s true enough, my lady, but when people think they have a claim to something they try to get it.’

‘Do you mean this Baliol will try to take the crown away from David?’

‘That would never be allowed.’

‘The Earl of Moray will stop it and so would Black Douglas have done ... if he had been here. Never mind, the Earl of Moray will never let it happen. Tell me more of this Baliol.’

But the woman had realized that she had already said too much. The Lady Joanna was too knowing. At one moment she seemed nothing but a child but the next she was asking questions to which perhaps it was better not to give her the answers.

‘I know nothing,’ said the woman pursing her lips. The old sign, thought Joanna in exasperation. They all came to that when something was becoming interesting.

Later she heard more from another source of gossip.

Baliol was stirring up trouble in England and the English King was not so hostile to him as might have been expected considering his sister was the Queen of Scotland.

It seemed there were some barons who had lost their possessions through supporting the English against the Scots and being very dissatisfied were joining up with Baliol.

It all sounded very disturbing and Joanna talked about it with David who, being two years younger than she was, listened intently and when she said she thought they might be trying to take their crowns away from them, he shook his head. They couldn’t do that because his father had been Robert the Bruce and whatever Robert the Bruce had said must be done, was done.

‘But he is dead,’ said Joanna. ‘He is dead like Black Douglas.’

The thought that she would never see that fierce dark face again made her feel ready to burst into tears. She was fearful too until she remembered the Earl of Moray.

‘It is all right,’ she said. ‘We still have the Earl of Moray. He would never allow anyone to take our crowns away from us.’

Moray came to see them soon after that and she asked him questions.

When she mentioned Baliol’s name he wanted to know who had told her this. She answered that she listened and heard people talking.

‘Well,’ said Moray, ‘there is often trouble in countries. It very often happens that when there is a crown some people want to take it from those to whom it belongs and keep it for themselves.’

‘We have it though,’ said David.

‘Yes, my King, you have it, and on your head it shall remain while I have an arm to fight to keep it there.’

‘Then it will always remain there,’ declared Joanna. ‘Thank you, my lady.’

‘We have lost Black Douglas but we still have you,’ said Joanna. ‘I would never be afraid while we had you.’

The Earl was touched. He kissed her hand and said he would serve his little Queen with his life.

‘Will this man Baliol come here to fight?’ asked Joanna. ‘He might well do that.’

‘He will never win,’ said David, ‘will he?’

‘We shall not let him,’ answered Moray.

My brother would not let him either,’ put in Joanna.

The Earl of Moray was silent; but Joanna did not notice. She was too absorbed in the memory which the mention of her brother’s name had brought back.

Very soon after that Moray took his leave of them.

‘I shall see you soon,’ he said. ‘Whatever you hear do not be afraid. All you have to do is what I tell you. And if I say you are to go to such and such a place you know it will be for your safety and you will do it, won’t you?’

Yes,’ said Joanna speaking for David as she so often did.

‘All will be well.’

‘Yes,’ said Joanna confidently, ‘while we have you to look after us.’

Moray rode away to Musselburgh and a few weeks later a messenger arrived at Edinburgh Castle. He wished to see the King and the Queen.

They knew him for one of the Earl’s squires and the gravity of his face struck terror into Joanna’s heart.

‘You come from my lord?’ said David.

‘My lord, I have sorry news. We had come from Musselburgh to Wemyss when he was taken ill suddenly. He died that very night.’

The children were amazed. First Black Douglas and now the Earl of Moray. Their two protectors taken from them one after the other.

They were too stunned to cry. That would come later. All they could think of now was that they had lost dear Moray.

Nothing could seem the same again. There was a great deal of whispering. Joanna listened and in her bed at night she lay trembling because she feared something dreadful was going to happen.

She must learn all she could. She felt so young, so ineffectual, and David was even more so.

She was not surprised when she heard the lowered voices, when she caught the word: ‘Poison!’

‘No doubt he was poisoned,’ they said. ‘Edward Baliol would have men everywhere. So easy ... a little something in his food. Something in his wine. Nothing will be the same now that Moray is dead.’


* * *

Edward was well aware that there was going to be trouble in Scotland. He still smarted with humiliation when he remembered that campaign of his. He had been so young, so inexperienced. It would be different now, he promised himself, if the opportunity should arise.

He often thought that he would like to carry on with his grandfather’s work. He would like to be the one to subdue Scotland; instead of which, during his father’s weak reign, Robert the Bruce had been able to consolidate his successes. But Robert the Bruce was dead and a little boy was on the throne. True he had had two strong men to stand beside him—Moray and Black Douglas—but now they were both dead.

He was musing on affairs in Scotland when Henry de Beaumont asked leave to see him. Edward was alert. Beaumont was one of those barons whom the Scots had robbed of his possessions because he had sided with the English.

He received him without delay.

‘My lord,’ he said, ‘Edward de Baliol is without. I have come to ask you if you will see him.’

‘Edward de Baliol’ cried the King in surprise. ‘For what purpose?’

‘That is something he would wish to tell you himself.’

‘Then I will see him.’

Baliol! A weak son of a weak father, thought Edward. What did he want? Edward could give a quick answer to that: The crown of Scotland.

Edward waited to hear his request.

‘My lord,’ said Baliol, ‘the Regents of Scotland have both died recently.’

‘They say Moray died of poison. Is it so?’

‘That, my lord, I could not say.’

Will not, you mean, thought Edward. I’ll swear it was one of your agents who administered the fatal dose.

‘And Douglas, in that foolhardy action! I should have thought he would have realized that his duty lay in his own country.’

‘My lord, he died as he thought fit. What I have come to say to you is that Scotland is in turmoil. These two men who were governing—ably some say—are no more. You will know that the King and the Queen are but children.’

‘I should since one of them is my own sister.’

Baliol flinched a little. Was it folly to ask the King of England to act against his own sister?

‘They have selected the Earl of Mar to take the place of Moray. He is a weakling. The state of the country is too weak for him to handle.’

‘And what would you have me do about it?’ asked Edward.

‘I would ask your help, my lord. My father was the King of Scotland. I am his heir. If you will help me to regain what is mine I will pay homage to you as my overlord.’

Edward was silent. That would be a step in the right direction. It would take him back to the position in which his grandfather had stood. It would mean deposing his sister; it would mean dishonouring the treaty he had made; moreover he was bound to pay the Pope twenty thousand pounds if he broke the treaty.