The Bruce Trilogy
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This trilogy tells the story of Robert the Bruce and how, tutored and encouraged by the heroic William Wallace, he determined to continue the fight for an independent Scotland, sustained by a passionate love for his land.
“Sire — is it wise?” Lennox persisted, low-voiced. “If these are the Earl of Ross’s ships. Ross is one of your earls. A most powerful lord. Needlessly to offend him, for the sake of this Angus of the Isles! Who does not even acknowledge your suzerainty …” “Malcolm, my friend — apart from the sacred laws of hospitality, these waters are most certainly within the Lordship of the Isles. If these are Ross’s galleys, then he is engaging in piracy. My duty, as sovereign lord of them both, is surely to
of his mind he was well aware that what he had been enunciating was as much to convince himself as Douglas. They were nearing the Kirkton now, and must by-pass it to reach the brewery. There was no opportunity for further debate. The King frowned as he strode forward. The castle’s former brewery was situated beside another small stream, and with its maltings, brewhouse and stores formed a sizeable establishment. No lights showed here, however, and it was unlikely that there would be dogs
answer. “You are the great ones. Under heaven, you rule all! All save your own silly wits. How think you would manage without women?” “More quietly, at the least,” the King said, and sighed. He was gazing out of the window of his bedchamber, which was in fact the sub-Prior’s room of the Blackfriars’ Priory of Aberdeen, looking pensively northwards towards the Castlehill and the towering walls of Aberdeen’s fortress, still held by a strong though beleaguered garrison of Englishmen. He was not
of Fife, and wife of the High Constable. AYMER DE VALENCE, EARL OF PEMBROKE: English commander. THE DEWAR OF THE COIGREACH: hereditary custodian of St. Fillan’s crozier, in Glendochart. PART ONE CHAPTER ONE EVEN strong men, hard-bitten, grim-faced men winced as the horseman rode right into the church, iron-shod hooves striking sparks from the flagstones, their noisy clatter stilling all talk and reverberating hollowly under the hammer-beam roof. Stracathro was no mighty church,
coming upon us — a winter that will test us hard. And in the spring, Edward will return. But … all this, if it is true for Carrick and Annandale and Galloway, is true also for much of Scotland. Save, perhaps, the North.” He glanced down at Comyn. “The land faces trial. Destiny. All the land. The people. The need is great. And in this need, unity is all-important. Only unity can save us from Edward of England. None shall say that Bruce withstood that unity. If you, my lords, will have it so, I