I strode into the great hall of Edinburgh Castle, stomach tight with the strain. I had faced many fights in my life, but those had been with sword, axe, or spear. This would be a fight with words and power. I was sure it was a fight I must win for Scotland’s weal more than my own. I had never expected nor wanted the earldom of Douglas, but that counted for nothing now.
Many lords had interests only in their local affairs rather than that of the weal of the realm, but today the benches were tightly packed with twice as many in attendance as was usual. The cacophony of greetings and speculation was deafening. James of Dalkeith was in the front row of the benches reserved for barons, taking up enough room for two which was earning him some scowls. He jerked his head for me to join him.
The earls were seated on benches in front of ours. As usual, Alexander, whom people had started calling the Wolf of Badenoch, had ignored any summons that required his leaving the north. John, Earl of Carrick, the heir, still looked frail and sickly. It was worrying how poorly he was recovering from the wound to his leg. I had begun to wonder if he would recover at all. So the earls were poorly represented, partly because most of the earldoms were in Stewart hands, several earls were minors, and two earldoms were vacant. One was vacant because of the recent death of one of the king’s sons, David, Earl of Strathearn, and his earldom would no doubt go to another of the huge Stewart family. The other was the earldom of Douglas.
“Sorry to be late. It was a long ride from Threave.”
“You retrieved what you needed?” he asked.
I patted my scrip where I carried the vital document that I had traveled to Threave to retrieve and ridden to Edinburgh with a hundred of my sworn knights and men-at-arms to safeguard it. While I did not expect anyone to have the daring to attack me, there were certainly some who would have fiercely wanted it destroyed—those who knew it existed.
A trumpet shrilled twice. The sound of the talking lowered as most turned to watch John de Peebles, Bishop of Dunkeld and Chancellor of the Realm, enter in full canonicals. His bishop’s staff thumped on the floor as he walked to the dais at the head of the room, followed by Robert Stewart, Earl of Fife and Menteith. The bishop went to stand before the throne. Fife took a place standing to the side.
Peebles motioned for all to rise, said a short opening prayer, and motioned for the parliament to be seated.
A herald proclaimed, “Hear ye! Hear ye! All persons having business before the King of Scots are called to draw near for the parliament of the Kingdom of Scotland is now in session. God save the King!”
By the time he said the last word, the uproar from the men in the parliament drowned him out. How many objected or approved was impossible to tell.
James looked at me from the corner of his eye. A parliament not called by the king with the king not in attendance had never been done. To many, it seemed unthinkable, but the business of the realm could not wait. In the chaos of shouts and questions, we waited to see how the bishop would handle it. Though aged, he had a commanding voice and, I suspected, a commanding will.
Peebles hammered his staff on the floor. It took several minutes, but when silence was restored, he proclaimed, “Because of King Robert’s age and ill health, it is his will that his son Robert act for him in all matters regarding the realm, including the calling of parliament. I have in my possession the king’s pronouncement signed and witnessed by me and others of unquestioned probity.” He glared around the hall. “Is there any here who would oppose his grace’s will?”
A hush followed.
“Very well.” He turned to Fife, bowed, and stepped to the side.
Fife strode to seat himself. He cast his gaze over the crowded benches. He turned his head to Peebles and said, “You may continue.”
Peebles visibly took a deep breath, shuffling some papers on the small table next to the throne. “The next business is a proposed truce between France and England and would include the kingdoms of Scotland, Portugal, and Castile. However, preliminary negotiations must take place before the final negotiations. King Richard, or rather his councilors, have expressed that they will extend Writs of Safe Conduct to negotiators from Scotland to meet with theirs in London. It is essential that if such a treaty is made, it must include Scotland and contain terms favorable to us. For that end, the Lieutenant of the Realm proposes to send negotiators to London. Does any so move?”
“I so move,” said Keith the Marischal.
“And I second the motion,” James of Dalkeith said. “Matters at home are neglected because we are constantly at war. It is time for a truce and a long one.”
I nodded my agreement. There was a score of projects that needed my attention: monasteries to be restored, new churches to be built, Galloway’s code of laws to be updated, so many it would take years.
“Does any contest?”
George of Dunbar cleared his throat. Fife glared at him, and Dunbar looked at his brother, the Earl of Moray, who shrugged. Had James, deceased Earl of Douglas, been here, their party might have been strong enough to stand up against Fife and his allies. Dunbar stared at his feet, obviously unhappy but unwilling to take it to a fight.
With no one contesting, Bishop de Peebles declared the motion approved. “My Lord Lieutenant.” He turned to face Fife. “With such vital negotiations going forward, Scotland must present a strong face to the English. As all must recognize, for the moment we are seriously weakened with no Earl of Douglas to lead in the field of battle or at home. We all lament the valiant death of Earl James at Otterburn, but the earldom cannae be left vacant whilst we mourn. As he left no child of his body, a new earl must be appointed with the king’s consent and with the consent of parliament.” He turned back to us. “Is there any here who wishes to address this matter?”
Malcolm Drummond sprang to his feet. “She isnae the child of his body, but my lady wife, the Countess of Mar, is his sister and closest legitimate kin. By right, she is his heir.” He glared at me. “So I hereby declare.”
“Does anyone dispute the Countess’ claim, put forward by her husband, to the earldom of Douglas?”
I held my tongue for now, difficult though it was, knowing James would speak for me.
James stood. “I demur and strongly do so. And I believe that I speak for all of the Douglas ilk. The earldom of Douglas cannot be held by a woman who could never lead the Douglas spears into battle. Sir Archibald Douglas, Lord of Galloway, is the man who could do so.”
“I would lead the men for her!” Drummond exclaimed.
James did not even spare him a look. “The Earl of Douglas must be a knight proven on the battlefield, who has the right to raise the feared Douglas banner over the Douglas ilk. We have and will follow Sir Archibald Douglas. We would not be so likely to follow a Drummond who could claim that right only through his wife.”
John of Carrick struggled to his feet, keeping a hand on the wall so he would not fall. “In the past, women have inherited earldoms as the Countess of Mar did from her father. And Drummond is owed an apology for suggesting he could nae lead the Douglas men in battle.”
I had had enough and surged to my feet. “Daughters have inherited earldoms.” I speared Carrick with a glare. “No sister has ever inherited an earldom. When John Randolph, Earl of Moray, died at the Battle of Neville’s Cross, his sister, the valiant Agnes of Dunbar, did not inherit because such an inheritance is against all tradition. But there is an even better reason why I must inherit.” With a flourish, I pulled a document with its dangling seals out of my scrip and strode to hand it to Bishop de Peebles. Some here would have heard of the entail of 1342. None here had seen it. I demanded, “Read it to them.”
He cleared his throat and read it aloud, carefully pronouncing every name and title, all those who had once a claim to the Douglas inheritance before me, every one of them dead. At the end, it declared that failing heirs of the body, I was the heir. When he finished, there was complete silence.
“Isabel of Mar is entitled to all Earl James’ property not included in the entail,” the bishop said in a mild voice. “But clearly, Sir Archibald is named as next in line for the entailed lands and the title.”
Drummond jumped to his feet. “A bastard cannae inherit!”
“You want the earldom, Drummond?” I thrust my finger at him, staring him in the eye. “You? How many battles have you fought?” I thrust at him again. “How many Douglas spears would follow you into battle?” I waited to see if he would reply. “You cannae say because it would be few.”
Every muscle in my body was clinched as though I was going into battle. I rolled my shoulders and took a deep breath to regain my composure. “I am already a wealthy and powerful man, Drummond. I never wanted to be Earl of Douglas. Nor did I expect to be. But the Douglas fields thousands of men, knights and men-at-arms and even more thousands of spearmen to form into schiltroms. They must be willing to answer his call. And the earl must be able to command them. Far better than any man alive, I can do so.”
Keith the Marischal said, “Sir Archibald speaks truly. The Earl of Douglas can field the most fighting men of anyone in the kingdom. And they are necessary for our defense.”
There were some murmurs of agreement.
“Do we dishonor the men who signed the entail by disregarding their expressed will?” James rose to his feet again. “Do we disrespect King David, of honored memory, who agreed to it?” He paused. “I say No! I move that to ensure proper and strong rule in the earldom and the marches that we accept and confirm Sir Archibald as Earl of Douglas.”
“I second,” said William Keith.
“My claim for my wife stands,” Drummond said, his jaw clinched.
The bishop called for a vote. I won easily.
I felt something deep inside me, something bright like the first light of morning when it reminds you that a new day is coming. There were shouts of congratulations and applause, and I managed to smile and nod, but it was through a fog of bemusement.
Shouting to be heard over the tumult, de Peebles said, “This parliament accepts and confirms Sir Archibald Douglas, Lord of Galloway, in the earldom of Douglas.”
The Earl of Fife rose from the throne. After a few moments, the hubbub lessened, and he said, “I hereby prorogue this session of parliament.”
“This calls for some wine!” James exclaimed.
In agreement, I started to turn and push my way through the press to the door when Fife motioned to me to come to him. When I reached him, he said, “Archibald, I will name you to lead the negotiations in London. The bishop will issue you funds for the embassy along with James of Dalkeith. Scotland must be included in the truce, so it will be up to you.”
My eyes suddenly burned. I nodded and looked away, blinking. “Yes, I will do that. Yes.”