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the Great Council. We are not summoned to that but to the great banquet afterwards. The Chancellor, Bishop Wishart of Glasgow, has instructed all foreign envoys to attend this feast.' He poured a cup of watered wine for Corbett and then joined him, sipping carefully while studying the English clerk. 'You have been busy, Master Corbett?' he enquired. 'Yes,' Corbett replied tactfully. 'I have been trying to elicit what is happening in Scotland. Both our King and the Chancellor,' he lied, 'will be grateful for any information.' 'And have you discovered anything?' 'No,' Corbett lied again. 'Alexander III is dead, killed when his horse went over Kinghorn Ness. I have presented the Chancellor's condolences to his widow and now I must stay until I receive fresh instructions.' 'You are interested in Alexander Ill's death?' Benstede persisted. 'Do you think there was foul play?' 'I think,' Corbett replied carefully, 'that the King's death was mysterious and worthy of study.' Benstede pursed his lips and let out a long sigh. 'Be careful, Master Clerk,' he said. 'The Scots are in no mood to have foreigners, or Sassenachs as they call us, interfering in their affairs, but by all means keep yourself conversant with what is happening. Our Sovereign Lord King,' he commented sardonically, 'is always ready to listen to gossip from foreign courts.' Corbett decided to ignore the sarcastic tone and refused to be drawn. He stared at his companion's round cherubic face and twinkling blue eyes and knew that Benstede was only trying to draw him into conversation. 'What is the council meeting about?' he asked. Benstede got up and crossed to the bed in the far corner. He lifted the straw mattress and pulled out a small leather pouch which Corbett recognised as being in common use by clerks in the Chancery or envoys on their travels. Benstede inspected and then broke the seal and handed a small roll of vellum to Corbett. 'Read this,' he said. 'A draft copy of my report to the King. It describes the situation in Scotland as I see it and contains nothing confidential!' He grinned sideways at Corbett. 'At least, nothing yet! Go ahead! Read it!' Corbett unrolled the letter and ignored the usual introductory courtesies – "John Benstede to his Grace, etc. etc. The news from the Scottish court is this. His Grace, King Alexander III, was killed when he plunged from Kinghorn Ness on the night of the 18th March. It is commonly rumoured that the King was on his way to stay with his new wife, Queen Yolande, at a nearby manor. A great grief has fallen upon the kingdom and there is deep apprehension for the future. As your Grace knows, Alexander was married to your Grace's late lamented sister, Margaret. The issue of that marriage, the Princes Alexander and David, are dead. The only surviving issue is a granddaughter, Margaret, commonly called the Maid of Norway, offspring of Eric II of Norway, who married Alexander Ill's only surviving daughter. Margaret is a girl of only three years and is not of suitable age to take over this kingdom. Nevertheless, at Scone on the 5th February 1284, Alexander made all the estates of Scotland bind themselves by oath to acknowledge the Maid of Norway as his heir, failing any children Alexander might have in the future. Envoys have already been sent to the Norwegian court to apprise King Eric of the circumstances and to beg him to send the Maid back to Scotland as soon as possible.
    "The situation, however, is still perilous. No woman has ever before become the ruler of Scotland and there are mutterings about the old Celtic tradition that when a king died the closest male relative took over the reins of power. This is now happening in Scotland and the kingdom is beginning to veer to one or the other of the two powerful families with such claims to the throne. These are the Comyns and the Bruces who can both reckon amongst their members males of the royal blood, for each claim the throne by descent from David, Earl of Huntingdon,