Margaret the Queen

by Nigel Tranter

  He had no sense of time or detail, after that, nor of danger nor anything else, save the one requirement of keeping his place close at the King's back. In fact, it was all over in only a few further minutes, and his immediate duty over. It was Madach's turn now, holding that bottleneck of a defile against the fleeing Moraymen, and, with the pursuing pressure from the haughland, turning defeat into rout. But the King left that task and slaughter to others, and Maldred did not require to be involved. Stricken, he went back for Kerald.

  Because of the brevity of the engagement and the total surprise, casualties were not really heavy, in relation to the numbers present, even on the enemy side. In fact the worst killing took place in the mouth of the cleft itself, with MacDuff and Strathearn pressing the fleeing foemen against the barrier of the narrows blocked by Madach's Athollmen. But even so, most of the Moraymen escaped, thanks to the wooded and broken nature of the terrain. Many flung themselves into the Don and, lightly clad in short kilts and little else, were able to swim across safely. Some broke away downstream, southwards. Others got away by the tree-clad slopes of Pitfichie Hill.

  Malcolm was less fervent in pursuit and punishment than might have been expected. Not in any spirit of clemency towards his misguided subjects but because there was still no sign of the Mormaor Farquhar of Ross, who might well be fairly close behind the Moray host. He respected Farquhar's military abilities and reckoned that the Ross army might well be a large one. He did not want his own strength to be caught dispersed and chasing fugitives. So he forbade any major pursuit, and ordered his force to concentrate again at Monymusk.

  Strangely enough, to the King's wrath, Malsnechtan himself had escaped. Piety, in this instance, had paid off, and he and his small group heading for the monastery, had evidently at once recognised the hopelessness of the

  Moray frontal position when the royal array made its charge, and bolted without delay before young Glamis could reach them — they being mounted, he not. Because of Malcolm's stringent orders to keep their people hidden at this early stage, MacDuff and Angus likewise had not revealed their position to the mass of the enemy by rising to intercept Malsnechtan. So he and his leaders had got clean if ingloriously away — and the Thane of Glamis was left in no doubt as to what his sovereign thought of him.

  But if this was an odd circumstance of the fight, there was another even more so when, presently, Madach arrived with a group of distinguished prisoners, amongst whom was none other than Malsnechtan's mother, the Lady Malvina, Lulach's widow and for a few months Queen. What she was doing with her son's rebel army she did not divulge. Madach's people had found her, with the baggage-train coming along a discreet distance behind.

  She was, to be sure, something of an embarrassment — Malcolm had, after all, slain her husband. But she might be useful to hold as a hostage against her son's future activities, possibly even against Farquhar of Ross, whose sister-in-law she was. So, after the briefest of cold greetings, she was placed in the care of Dufagan MacDuff— she was a kinswoman of his — who was told that the monarch did not wish to set eyes on her again.

  They spent that night — a night which Maldred and Madach passed in sad vigil in the monastery's little timber church with the body of their brother — and much of the next day, waiting for Farquhar at Monymusk. But though their forward scouts probed a dozen miles and more northwards, they discovered no sign of him. Whether he was delayed, not coming at all, or warned of the defeat and turned back, they knew not. But there seemed to be no point in waiting in hostile country — the King was still concerned about the intentions of Martacus of Mar, so comparatively near at hand, who likewise so far had not put in an appearance but who could raise the whole country against them. He was in no position to attempt the lengthy process of full conquest of the North, with his English preoccupations ever with him. He decided that, having had a cheap victory, he would be content meantime. There were also the Orkney earls to consider.

  The Atholl brothers saw the victory as less cheap.

  So they left Monymusk and the Don to return southwards, Malcolm assuring the Abbot that he would not forget his vow to raise the status of the monastery, along with its change of dedication from St. Drostan, Columba's nephew, to St. Andrew. What he thought of this, and his transference to St. Andrew's bishopric instead of the Abbey of Deer, he did not announce. As well, which may have affected his attitude, they left behind a long and specially-erected gallows bearing a row of dangling corpses, senior prisoners taken in the rout, as demonstration of how Malcolm, High King of Scots, looked upon rebellion. They did not leave behind Malsnechtan's baggage-train, which proved to be unexpectedly rich; whether this had been for possible bribing of support further south, or an indication of supreme confidence in the result, was not known.

  Not left behind, either, was the Church's newest abbot, Kerald mac Melmore, wrapped in plaids and slung between two garrons, for burial at Dunkeld, the Brec-bennoch of Columba with him.

  19

  MALDRED HAD NEVER looked to see Wearmouth again, nor hoped to. That he should be riding there dressed in his oldest clothing — not that he was any sort of stylish dresser — and in the company of only two false friars, Cospatrick and his man Patie's Dod, seemed unlikely to say the least. His reluctance to be doing anything of the kind had been pronounced. But Cospatrick had been pressing, if not peremptory. And he had come to respect that man's assessments and urgencies as usually valid, however much his motives might sometimes be suspect. The Earl had insisted that it was expedient for Maldred to make this surreptitious, indeed secret, journey into Northumbria — and when the younger man had demanded for whom or what it was expedient, he had merely been told that Prior Aldwin, and to a lesser extent the monk Turgot, had especially sought his presence. Why, was not forthcoming — although Cospatrick almost certainly knew more than he was telling — and suggestions that the monks could have come to Dunbar or Ersildoune if they were so anxious to see him, had met with the reply that they were afraid to venture into Scotland contrary to Malcolm's express commands since they had refused to take the oath of allegiance to him. All of which, whilst not satisfying Maldred, was superficially reasonable. And, of course, while Cospatrick was not actually his master, as a sort of steward of his two earldoms, Maldred had to take the older man's wishes very much into account.

  So here the three of them were, riding unobtrusively through dangerous, lawless and ungoverned Northumbria, a year less a month after the defeat of the Moray rising, a friar on a jennet, a serving-brother on a heavy garron and a nondescript traveller on the most broken-down nag in the Ersildoune stables.

  They had had to make a wide detour, increasing by half again the length of their journey, in order to avoid the Tyneside area where, at the first possible crossing of the river, after the estuary, the Normans were laying the foundations of a great new stone castle, at Monkchester, site of a one-time Roman fort, and wherein was their only permanent presence north of Tees — meantime at least. So the travellers had come south from Teviotdale over Carter Fell into Redesdale, and down Rede to cross Tyne eventually at Corbridge, near the great Roman Wall, before turning eastwards by Gateshead and Boldon. Cospatrick rode throughout with an easy confidence and familiarity, bestowing blessings now and again as the notion took him. Clearly this was all well-trodden ground for him, and he entirely at home in his role — remarkable considering that he had once been undisputed lord of all here.

  They came down to the estuary and bay of the Wear, ten miles south of that of Tyne, on the third afternoon — for clerics apparently did not hurry on the road — unchallenged and without having seen a single Norman. Wear-mouth, on this sunny June afternoon, looked very different from the day nine years before when Maldred had first seen it, in storm and war. Moreover, coming to it on the other side of the estuary, at Monk Wearmouth where was the original settlement from Lindisfarne, the Scots army had never reached this south side, where at Bishop's Wearmouth was the monastery of St. Michael to which they were now headed.
This did not at all seem to be the place where, in stress and bloodshed, he had first met Magda — and Margaret.

  St. Michael's, a Benedictine priory, was likewise a notable contrast to the establishment their monkish hosts had been seeking to build up at Melross, a settled, extensive, stone-built place founded in 930, with a fair church; not so venerable as the St. Peter's church across the water in Monk Wearmouth where Malcolm had taken up his quarters that evening of 1069, and which had been in fact originally a Columban foundation, where the Venerable Bede had lived and written.

  The visitors were well received. Aldwin was Prior here and Turgot his assistant, so that the hospitality of a quite large establishment was available. Nevertheless their masquerade was maintained in front of the ordinary monks — which seemed to emphasise the seriousness of this alleged need for secrecy. It was not until, fed and refreshed, the four of them were closeted in the Prior's own chamber, that Maldred learned the reasons for his being there.

  He could scarcely believe his ears, in fact. It appeared that what he was being involved in was little less than a plot to detach Northumbria from England and incorporate it into Scotland. Linked to this astonishing project was a scheme for consolidating South Strathclyde, or Cumbria, much more positively within the Scots realm — and so making the Scots-English border to run effectively, not at Tweed and Esk but at Tees and Ribble.

  "But, but . . ." Maldred floundered. "How could this be? It is beyond all possibility. For Scotland to be taking part of England! After Malcolm having to submit to William . . ."

  "It is none so impossible, my lord," Aldwin asserted. "Matters are not what they were, with the Norman. His affairs are in disarray. He has been defeated in the field, for the first time for many years. At Dol, in Brittany. By the King of France. A notable battle . . ."

  "Defeated? William. . . !"

  "Yes, God be praised! He is in retreat. At last. The Count Robert of Flanders has risen against him, again. And his own son, Duke Robert of Normandy, with him.

  William Rufus, it is thought, will join with his brother against their father, once more."

  "This is stirring news. But that is France, not England. Here we would have Bishop Odo to face. And strong Norman arms."

  . "Not so strong as they were. Not united now, as they were before Hereford's and Norfolk's rising. There is much trouble in England. In especial, since the Earl Waldeve was executed . . ."

  "Waldeve executed! The Earl of Northumbria. . . ?"

  "You have not heard? Yes, Waldeve of Northumbria is dead. Beheaded at Winchester. William made a sore mistake there. To execute a Saxon earl."

  "The man was a Dane!" Cospatrick interpolated. "And a fool. But — William should not have cut off his head. After keeping him in custody for almost two years."

  "Why did he do it?"

  "None know for sure," Aldwin said. "And it was ill done. As Almighty God Himself chose to demonstrate." "How so?"

  "On the scaffold, at Winchester, before thousands, the Earl was repeating Our Lord's Prayer, before his death. He had turned much to the consolations of religion in his long captivity. He daily recited the entire Psalter. Asked to be allowed to become monk. But, no. On the scaffold, reciting, he got no further than . . lead us not into temptation', when he choked with tears and could say no more. So the headman's sword struck and the Earl's head was severed from his neck and fell to the ground. And there his lips continued the prayer '. . . but deliver us from evil'!"

  Cospatrick snorted. "A likely tale. For bairns!"

  "You may scoff, Brother Eadwulf. But thousands do not. All over England the thing is spoken of, believed. To William's hurt. The people are stirred as seldom before. To execute a Saxon earl — and then this! There is unrest everywhere."

  "We shall need more than unrest to take Northumbria. And hold it!"

  "Yes. But there is more," Turgot intervened. "Bishop Walchere is now given sole authority in Northumbria. He has been the Earl's deputy for long — but now he rules, as the King's lieutenant. Perhaps not for long. But meantime he is supreme. So — there is need for haste, it may be."

  "Haste for what?" Maldred demanded. "Do you say that the Bishop of Durham is prepared to give Northumbria to King Malcolm?"

  The two monks exchanged glances. "Scarcely that, perhaps," Aldwin said. "But ... he might well go some way along that road. The Earl Waldeve was his close friend . . ."

  "We know of that. But he is a Norman, is he not?"

  "No, he is not. He is a Lorrainer, of ancient Celtic stock. He mislikes the Normans, almost as much as do we Saxons — although he supports Lanfranc. Hates them more than ever now, since Waldeve. As Brother Eadwulf knows well."

  Cospatrick nodded. "Say that the good Walchere is at present more kindly disposed towards Malcolm — or perhaps his Queen — than towards William!"

  So Margaret came into this. Maldred might have known, or guessed, with Turgot involved.

  "What is the purpose, then? Remembering that Bishop Odo is still viceroy in England."

  "Odo — I prefer to name him Earl of Kent, since he is a disgrace to the calling of bishop—is also in trouble, God be praised!" This Prior was not one of the cautious-speaking clerics. "He is at odds with Archbishop Lanfranc. And Lanfranc is William's friend. It was Odo who gained Archbishop Thomas the appointment of York. And now he supports him against Lanfranc. Odo has taken Canterbury lands, arrested Lanfranc's revenues. . .

  "What has this squabble amongst Normans to do with Northumbria? Or Odo's ability to bring a great army northwards?"

  "Not a little, my lord. Odo has his hands full, in the south. With the unrest over Earl Waldeve and the hatred for his wife — for all believe that it was the Countess Judith who prevailed with her uncles to have her husband executed, in order that she might marry again. His enmity with Lanfranc has already resulted in fighting. And the Welsh are stirring again, as ever. William, in France, is demanding ever more men and moneys, to be sent there, for his wars. Odo is at his weakest."

  "So you urge armed revolt? War?"

  Again Turgot intervened. "We are churchmen, not soldiers," he said carefully. "You must understand, my lord, we do not seek war. Only say that now is a great opportunity for a change to be made — a change, pray God, for the better. A change through Holy Church. We Saxons of Northumbria are grievously unhappy under King William and the Normans. But Prince Edgar, who should be our king, has now made his peace with William. He will, I fear, never lead England out of her sorrows. So we must needs look elsewhere."

  Maldred accepted that, at least. Edgar Atheling was one of the world's unfortunates. He had left Scotland again, those two years ago, with his fine retinue, his ships, arms and treasure, to go take up his barony of Montreuil-sur-Mer, which King Philip had given him on the condition that he assailed William's flank in Normandy. He had got nearly to his destination in the Pas de Calais when typical ill-luck struck again. A fierce gale drove his ships ashore and he lost all, many of his men, his treasure and all his spirit. After months of wandering and skulking on foot, he had found his unhappy way back to Scotland and his sister Margaret — why, when his mother and other sister were much closer, in Philip's Paris, Malcolm for one did not know. At any rate, his welcome this time was less than warm. The King had bluntly told him that he could help him no more, and advised him to go make his peace with William on the best terms he could get — Margaret presumably concurring, but she had found him more moneys, so that he could present himself to William in some style and in comparative dignity. Actually the Conqueror had found it convenient to receive him in less humiliating fashion than he might have done, to detach him from Philip for good; but imposed on him terms in which once and for all he renounced any claim to the English throne and accepted that the Saxon cause was dead — a sorry business.

  "You look to Scotland?"

  "Yes. England, the South of England, is firmly in William's grip. But the North has never been so. The Saxon North, at least, might throw off the Norman yoke. And, who know
s, perhaps give a lead to the rest. Cumbria, in name, adheres to Scotland. Down to the Ribble. If Northumbria could be in the same state, then William's writ would run only as far north as Tees and Ribble. To be sure, this was all Bernicia none so long ago, up to the Scottish Sea — Lothian, the Merse, Teviotdale and Northumberland, all in Bernicia. It could be again, and adhering to the Scots realm. And, in this change, the Church could lead the way." "How that?"

  "Do you not see it, my lord? Queen Margaret makes it possible. Placed in Scotland by God Himself, I do believe. Holy Church has now a presence in Scotland — which it did not have before. I mean the Church of Rome. The Archbishop Lanfranc thinks highly of the Queen of Scots, conceives her to be his daughter in God. The archepiscopal see of York has been declared by the Papal Legate Hubert to include Scotland. Bishop Walchere is Lanfranc's man. The Church could lead all Bernicia back to Scotland. And be a deal happier than under William and Odo."

  "And the Romish Church triumph in Scotland!" Maldred commented grimly.

  "Not so. No triumph. Nothing of conquest. Only harmony. The Queen does not seek to incorporate your Scottish Church in Rome, my lord — only to bring it into harmony. To the benefit of all. What harm for Scotland in that?"