Now he discussed with his two most trusted supporters the plan of action against the English.

‘What I want to avoid if it is possible,’ said Bruce, ‘is direct confrontation.’

‘We’d beat them then as we did at Bannockburn,’ replied Douglas.

‘Perhaps so, James, and perhaps not. It would mean that Scottish blood would be shed and I do not want that if it can be avoided. The advantage is with us. The English came laden with supplies and our men have learned to travel light.’

‘Aye,’ added Moray. ‘A bag of oatmeal and an iron plate to bake it on. That and the cattle we can steal on the way keeps the men well fed.’

‘Tis so,’ said Bruce, ‘and there I stress lies our advantage. My plan is that the English shall not come face to face with our army until we have lured them to that spot where a battle will take place if it cannot be avoided.’

‘You mean retreat before them.’

‘Not retreat,’ answered Bruce. ‘I like not that word. We shall leave England with them advancing towards us and as we pass through the English towns and villages we shall take their cattle and lay waste to the land. We shall be elusive. They will never catch up with us. And they will grow weary and exhausted trying to. Our plan should really be to bring about a peace treaty, which will free us from English domination for ever.’

Black Douglas was a little disappointed. He was hoping for another Bannockburn but like Moray he saw the wisdom of the King’s remarks. If Scotland was to prosper it needed peace. War might be exciting to such men as Douglas but it was also destructive. Advantageous peace was what the country needed.

‘The King of England has two sisters,’ went on Bruce. ‘They are about the age of my young David. You see what I am leading to. There is nothing like an alliance between countries to bring about a peace.’

Both Moray and Douglas acceded that this was true.

Plans were laid and thus when Edward with Sir John and their armies marched north in pursuit of the Scots they found evidence of them but they could not catch up with them.

They crossed the Tyne. Everywhere were ravaged villages but no Scots. The weather was bad; violent storms raged; the men grew restive and there was sickness in the camp.

If we could catch up with the Scots and there was a real battle you would see a change in the men,’ said Sir John to the King. ‘This state of affairs has a debilitating effect on them.’

Edward said: ‘It shows that the Scots are afraid of us.’

Sir John shook his head. ‘I believe that Robert the Bruce plays a game with us.’

‘He is a sick man. He is not with his army.’

‘He directs operations, my lord. You can depend on that, and he is a man not easy to beat whether he be on horseback or a sick couch.’

Edward was discovering that war was not the glorious adventure he had envisaged. He had thought it rather like a tournament, a kind of joust à l’outrance when the opponents fought to the bitter end. He had visualized glittering armour, lances shimmering in the sun, great deeds of bravery. Instead of this he found sickness, torrential rain, flies, draughty camps and the frustrating habits of the Scots who mockingly were leading them along this exhausting path.

One day a man was brought to Edward’s camp by Sir John of Hainault. The man had a story to tell. His name was Rokeby and he had been taken prisoner by the Scots and had consequently spent some time with them.

‘As soon as I escaped I made my way straight to your camp, my lord,’ said Rokeby. ‘I can tell you exactly where you will find the Scots army.’

‘Then,’ cried Edward, ‘we will find them. We will invite them to do battle. Then we shall have our revenge.’

He knighted Rokeby on the spot and as the man knelt to receive the accolade he laughed to himself. Edward was such a child really. He was easily deceived. He would tell Black Douglas that it hardly seemed fair, like cheating a baby.

Douglas would laugh. It had been his idea that Rokeby should bring the English army to the banks of the River Wear, for Douglas said he would have some sport with them.

In due course the army camp was set up on the banks of the River Wear in the county of Durham and true enough on the other side of the river the Scots were encamped.

‘Now,’ said Edward, ‘we shall come to battle and I doubt not the day will be ours.’

‘We should think of some way of surprising them,’ replied Sir John.

‘Nay,’ cried Edward. ‘I will fight with honour. They are on one side of the river, we on the other. I shall tell them that they must cross to meet us and I should consider it unchivalrous to attack them while they are crossing.’

‘My lord king,’ said Sir John with mild exasperation, ‘this is war.’

‘I intend to conduct war in an honourable way,’ replied Edward. ‘I will tell them that if they prefer us to cross the river we will do and the same terms will apply to us as I have offered them.’

Seasoned warrior John of Hainault shrugged his shoulders. He had come to the conclusion that the Scots were not eager to fight and when he considered the condition of his men, nor was he.

Edward waited for a reply from the messenger who had to ford the river to the Scottish camp. At last it came.

‘We are in your kingdom,’ it ran. ‘We have laid waste to your land. If that displeases you, you must come and attack us. We shall remain where we are as long as it pleases us.’

What were they to do?

Edward said they must in honour now cross the river but Sir John shook his head wearily. ‘The men are exhausted,’ he explained. ‘Supplies are running out. Our men do not travel with a bag of oatmeal and a griddle.’

‘Then we must act quickly,’ retorted Edward.

Edward had his way and they made plans to cross the river the following day. Through the night Edward lay sleepless. Across the water the light from the Scottish camp fires flickered in the darkness.

‘In the morning we shall strike,’ thought Edward, ‘and victory will be ours. I shall return to my Court and people will no longer smile at my youth and inexperience. They will know that I am not merely a figurehead. I am a true king. I shall cease merely to reign and shall rule.’

But in the morning before he had risen Sir John burst into his tent.

‘Come and look,’ he said.

Edward followed him out. On the opposite side of the river the Scottish camp fires still smouldered but the army had gone.


* * *

Again there were spies to tell them where. The Scots were still embanked on the same river but this time in a spot more advantageous to them. It was in a wood known as Stanhope Park, a hunting ground which belonged to the Bishop of Durham.

‘The river,’ said Sir John, ‘is easier to ford here.’

‘Then that is why they have moved,’ cried Edward. ‘Now we must prepare for battle in earnest.’

All through that day the preparations went on and by night time Edward was very tired. The end was nearly in sight he was sure, and as he lay in his tent he thought of returning to London. His first act would be to send for his ministers and tell them that he would not delay his marriage any longer. An agreement had been made with the Count of Hainault that he should marry one of his daughters. Well, he wanted that marriage to take place without delay. They would be pleased. They had always said that a king could not begin to get heirs too soon. It was a pleasant thought. He had discovered already that he was fond of the society of women and he had thought a great deal about Philippa who had clearly considered him to be wonderful. What a pretty girl she was, and she was charming and simple. In fact she was just the wife for him.

He drifted into pleasant sleep thinking of her.

He awakened with a start. There was uproar in the camp. He heard the horses whinnying, sudden shouts, running footsteps.

Then there was a cry of ‘A Douglas! A Douglas!’ and as Edward leaped to his feet he saw that his tent had started to collapse which meant that someone had cut the ropes. He ran out and as he did so he was aware of a dark-skinned man laughing at him.

One of his guards leaped forward.

‘Run, my lord. Run, my lord,’ he cried before he fell to the ground with a sword through his body.

Edward acted quickly. He knew what had happened. They had been outwitted by the Scots. Black Douglas had dared come to his tent perhaps to kill him or take him prisoner. The King of England a hostage! He had to run. It was ignoble. It did not fit in with his ideas of kingly actions; but he was unarmed and Black Douglas was waiting to catch him.

Sir John was shouting orders. The English had risen and the small party of Scots led by Black Douglas, which had invaded the English camp made its escape.

Consternation ensued. How had it happened? The watch had been careless. The King might have been killed or taken prisoner.

It seemed that the Scots got the better of them every time. ‘This is the last though,’ cried Edward. ‘Tomorrow we attack.’

Sir John said they would need a day to reorganize. The raid had taken them by surprise and when they did attack the Scots they must be prepared in every way. There must be victory.

Smarting with humiliation, Edward was for immediate action.

He need not have worried. At daybreak it was clear that the Scots had decamped once more. There would be another journey to catch up with them. The Scots had fleet horses. They lacked the beauty of those of the English but they could move a great deal faster unencumbered as they were. Moreover wherever the English went there must go their supplies—saddle horses and wagons were very different from a griddle and a bag of oatmeal. It made progress slow.

News came that the Scots had crossed the Border. Edward know he could never catch up with them. His men were exhausted, his supplies were running out and there were more quarrels between the English and the Hainaulters. It was a pointless depressing and humiliating experience.

Word came from Robert the Bruce. He would be ready to discuss terms for peace and he hinted at uniting the two countries through marriage. Edward had sisters; he had a son. Peace was often brought about more effectively through unions than battles.

Let there be meetings. Let these matters be discussed. And in the meantime let there be an end to hostilities.

Edward saw that they were right.

In the midst of this a messenger came to him with news from his mother.

His father had died peacefully in Berkeley Castle.

Well, perhaps it was God’s will. Poor Edward the Second. his had been a life of failure. Perhaps he was at peace at last. It was a pity that he had not been with him at the end. He would have liked to hear him say again that he thought his son was right in taking the crown.

But he died at peace and it was for the best. Young Edward need no longer suffer the qualms of conscience. He was now truly the King.

But he must return to York where his mother would be waiting for him.

How different it would have been if he had come back a triumphant hero, if he had won a battle which would have been like Bannockburn in reverse.

‘Edward vindicates the English in Scotland,’ he could hear them saying. ‘It is his grandfather all over again.’

One day he would show them. But they would not always be comparing him with his grandfather. They should talk of Great Edward the Third as well as the First of that name.

In the meantime the Scots had outwitted him and he must return to his Court chastened but with a valuable lesson learned. War was not a tournament in which easy honours were won. It was a matter of life and death, of tricks and strategy, of discomforts and bloodshed.

He would remember that and it would stand him in good stead.


* * *

As he travelled south to York Edward’s mood lightened a little. At least he had not been defeated in battle as his father had. His mission had failed but that was because the Scots refused to fight. He tried to work out what he should have done and he could see that all that had been possible was to seek the enemy. True he was returning with nothing achieved; and when he thought of how it might have ended if the Black Douglas had succeeded in capturing him, he was filled with dismay.

But he was returning to York and the Scots had agreed to consider a treaty. True his army was not in the same form as it had been when it had set out, and the Hainaulters had forcefully intimated that there would be no more fighting for them. The next thing was to make an advantageous treaty and ... what he wanted more than anything ... to marry Philippa.