Free Kingdom by Robyn Young Page A

Countess of Buchan. ‘Lady Isabel told us her husband was raising the men of Argyll against you.’
    Robert followed his wife’s gaze to where the countess stood. In her winter-white mantle, Isabel was a pale beauty, her arms folded tightly around her chest as if holding herself together. It was Isabel who had placed the crown upon his head at Scone, him bowing before her outstretched hands. The earls of Fife preserved the right to crown a new king and Edward had been shrewd enough to take into his custody the last kingmaker, a fourteen-year-old boy. Isabel, the young earl’s aunt, was the nearest in blood. She was also the wife of the Earl of Buchan, head of the Black Comyns. Robert had sent John of Atholl to bring her to his coronation by force, but in the end she had come willingly, the faded bruises on her face telling him he was perhaps a better prospect than her husband.
    Elizabeth’s fingers crept back to the cross, her brow furrowing. ‘Perhaps my father can help? If you surrender now, he may agree to petition King Edward on your behalf – persuade him to be lenient.’
    Robert took his hands from her shoulders at the mention of the Earl of Ulster, Richard de Burgh. Elizabeth didn’t know about the secret pact made between him and her father just before his submission to King Edward two years ago: that if Ulster endorsed him to the king, Robert would marry his daughter. By that pact, the ambitious Ulster had hoped to see his daughter become queen one day, but Robert knew the man hadn’t envisioned this as the reality – his daughter now a rebel and a target of Edward’s wrath.
    Elizabeth took his silence as some indication of accord. ‘He is one of the king’s greatest allies. If any man can convince—’
    ‘No, Elizabeth. I will not surrender. That isn’t an option.’
    Edward nodded adamantly. ‘We’ve come too far to yield.’ He scanned the circle. ‘We, all of us, set my brother on the throne in defiance of John Balliol’s right and took control of our kingdom against England’s will. Does anyone here want to exchange this foothold, precarious though it may be, for one on the platform of a gallows?’ He met Elizabeth’s fearful gaze. ‘Even the Earl of Ulster could not win the king’s clemency now, my lady. I saw what he did to William Wallace. Mercy has become another victim of this war.’
    Robert felt the fierceness of his brother’s words spark a fire in him. He glimpsed Col in the crowd passing more goblets to grateful men and other servants crouched by the wounded helping them out of their armour. He saw his men, earls and lords of Scotland, all around him, defeated – yes – but still here with him. He had seized the throne, swearing to defend their rights and liberties, promising them a kingdom free of England’s yoke. He would keep that promise, while he still had breath left in his body. Edward was right. They had come too far to yield. ‘We head west,’ he said, voicing the plan he had been considering these past days on the road.
    ‘To Carrick?’ questioned Niall.
    ‘Not yet.’ Robert addressed them all. ‘Before my coronation I sent my brothers to Lord Donough, charging him to raise the men of Antrim. My foster-father will not have been slow to act and—’
    ‘Your estates in Ireland will not offer safe haven,’ warned John. ‘You will be in easy reach of Ulster there. You cannot expect your past alliance to protect you. Sir Richard is Edward’s man and will do what the king commands. No matter what,’ he added, glancing at Elizabeth.
    ‘Not Antrim, John. Islay. I told my brothers to take the same message to Angus MacDonald. His family has allied with mine in the past. I believe we may find sanctuary among his people. These last weeks Robert Wishart and William Lamberton have been raising their tenants from their dioceses and garnering supplies. We will send word for the bishops to join us on Islay, along with Lord Donough and the men of Antrim. And there are