The Mark of Salvation by Carol Umberger Page B

couldn’t know, what had happened to the one person Ceallach had wanted to save. . . . Even his success at driving Edward of England from the field of battle couldn’t erase the horror. His hands shook, and he pressed them against his thighs to hide the tremors. “You are too generous, brother. I cannot accept such a gift.”
    â€œOf course you can. You have served me well, especially in the battle yesterday. Take your reward and find some peace from whatever demons followed you to Scotland.”
    Demons. Ghosts. Memories.
    If he refused this gift, Robert would insist on knowing why, and Ceallach could not talk about his past, about Peter. For now he would do Robert’s bidding. When the time was right, he would return the holding to the king. “Thank you, Robert. I don’t mean to seem ungrateful for your gift. It’s just that I . . . am humbled by your faith in me.”
    Robert observed him closely. “One day I want to hear it all, Ceallach. I want to know what happened in France.”
    â€œI was arrested with the others. We were tortured. I escaped. There’s nothing else to tell.”
    Robert shook his head, his expression one of disbelief. “One day,” he repeated.
    THE DAYS IMMEDIATELY FOLLOWING THE VICTORY at Bannockburn were some of the most joyous and peaceful Robert and his people had known in years. Robert anticipated the return of his wife and daughter from their English prison. Other families also awaited a reunion with their loved ones as soon as arrangements could be made.
    Bruce celebrated by dispensing the immense bounty that had been found in the carts the English left behind. A huge sum of currency, gold and silver, and household items of every description made it clear that the English had expected to occupy Scottish castles after their victory. There were money chests for payment of the troops, siege weapons, all sorts of personal weapons and armor, silk tapestries, tents, linen and silk apparel, wine, corn, hay, herds of cattle, flocks of sheep, swine, and war-horses and their saddlery. Surely every family in Scotland would benefit from the distribution of these goods.
    Robert himself spent many hours giving out gifts to his army that first week after their victory. Bryan stayed close to the king, assuring himself of his father’s safety before he agreed to leave for Moy with Adam and Kathryn.
    Late afternoon sun reflected off an empty golden chalice Bruce had pushed into Bryan’s hands. They walked to the king’s tent. “Come inside for a moment, Bryan,” Bruce said.
    Grateful for the promise of something cool to drink, Bryan followed the king into the shelter. They sat down and a page brought refreshments. Relaxed and at ease with his father, Bryan said, “Scotland is yours now, sire.”
    â€œAye, it is. But if she is to prosper, we’ll need peace. And if we are to have the dignity of being a sovereign people, Edward of England must recognize me as the rightful king of Scotland.”
    As long as Edward refused recognition, other monarchs might well follow his lead and Scotland would not be able to deal with other countries as an equal. This would directly impact Scotland’s ability to conduct trade and so better the lives of her people.
    Bruce sipped his drink before he went on. “Obviously our victory will not sit well with Edward of England.”
    â€œNo, I’m sure it won’t. But that is not your only worry, is it? So long as the pope refuses to allow you back into the Church, you cannot be Scotland’s spiritual leader.”
    â€œAye, for myself I would not care. My relationship with my Lord is between him and me. But for a people to be ruled by a man the Church has cast out, well, it will cause no end of problems.”
    Bryan pondered this for a few moments. “Perhaps in time the pope will rescind his edict against you. I shall pray for that to happen.”
    â€œThank you, Bryan.