David the Prince - Scotland 03

by Nigel Tranter

  The bride, when run to earth by the riverside, watching swimmers amongst a laughing group of young men, was all glowing health, high spirits and bodily awareness, a lusty young woman, natural and uninhibited. When Madach told her that the Prince David was a sort of cousin, she kissed him' heartily — and his two companions for good measure. She was, indeed, in kinship not only by her marriage, distantly as it might be, for her father the Earl Hakon of Orkney was son to the Earl Paul, eldest son of the famous Thorfinn Raven-Feeder, whose own mother had been the Princess Donada, sister to David's own great-grandmother. Madach recited this solemnly, such descents meaning a great deal to the lineage-conscious Scots.

  Thereafter, David went off with Madach and Ethelred, on a tour of the festivities, and to meet the other principal guests; but Hugo and Hervey elected to remain with the new Countess Margaret, like most of the other young men. Alexander was now involved in a pole-vaulting contest. It was obviously no time to seek a conference with him on matrimonial prospects.

  It was evening, and late evening at that, after the feasting up in the hall of the rock-top rath, before Alexander indicated that he was prepared to give his younger brother some private and undivided attention. That this was not to be of long duration was made clear by his distinctly reluctant leaving behind of a lady of bountiful charms and evident promise, whom he assured he would rejoin before long.

  In a small chamber off the hall, the brothers considered each other assessingly. Alexander went into what was almost the attack, right away.

  "You have seen Edgar, Davie?" he asked. "Our broken reed of a brother! What did he say? About me?"

  David was wary. "Little — little about you. Or about anything. Save his sore hurt of mind, his fears and despair."

  "Aye, we all get that. But. . . of the future? What did he say, man? He is intent on dying! What of the future? Of the realm?"

  "You will be King of course. He does not question that. But…”

  "Aye - but, Davie? But what?"

  "He... he believes that you, Alex, are not greatly interested in the south of the kingdom. In Lothian and Strathclyde. He is concerned for these parts - which he has always held dear."

  "Oh, yes. He has lived in Lothian. Takes no care for his ancient kingdom north of Forth and Clyde. These new lands in the south - they are not the real Scotland. I swear Edgar is more Saxon than Scot!"

  "Perhaps. He believes that you are the other way. It sounds as though you are, Alex?"

  "I would cherish Alba, our ancient heritage - yes. But not throw away Lothian and Strathclyde - as he has thrown away the Hebrides, to Norway." Alexander fixed his brother with those piercing eyes. "Edgar told me once that he thought to give them to you! Has he told you that?"

  David stirred uncomfortably. "He said something to that end. But ... he was all but wandering in his mind . . ."

  "He cannot do it, man — cannot, I say! He cannot give away parts of the kingdom. He has kept me from being Prince of Strathclyde all these years, as is my right, he being unwed. As heir to the throne. Given me only Gowrie, a mere thanedom. He hates me, I think - and you he dotes on! But he cannot divide the kingdom, when he is gone. You hear?"

  "Yes. But Edgar is not gone yet - that is not to be thought on, either. He is only thirty. This sorrow of mind he could throw off, in time, Alex. And it can scarcely kill him. He could, and should, be King for many years still."

  Alexander muttered something inaudible. "We shall see," he added. "But - take heed what I have said, Davie. I shall not see the realm divided."

  "I do not wish that, either Alex. But ... I could wish for some stake some small stake in the realm. Scotland is my land also, brother. My roots are here."

  "Aye. No doubt. We shall see." The other sat back, as though anything of import was now disposed of. "What is this word you have for me? From Matilda, is it? Our sister?"

  "She sends warm greetings, yes. Mary also. But the message is from King Henry. On, on a delicate matter."

  "Delicate? That Norman! I never yet knew a delicate Norman! Out with it, man."

  "It is about marriage, Alex. Henry has a daughter. Born out-of-wedlock, many years ago. Sybilla. She is sixteen years. He would link our two houses closer, in marriage. He thinks to marry this Sybilla to either Edgar or yourself. Edgar, it seems, is in no marrying state. So Henry sends me to you."

  "Marriage! Henry would marry me to his bastard? Henry Beauclerc!"

  "Yes."

  "Why?"

  "I tell you - to link our houses closer . . ." "Our realms, rather! It is Scotland he wants, not Alex mac Malcolm!"

  "To be sure. But is that so ill? He would have the two kingdoms close. But not as Rufus and his father would have had it, by conquest, claiming to be Lords Paramount. Henry does not claim that. But to have an end to enmity, linked by marriage not by the power of the sword, in peace. It seems to me much to be preferred."

  "M'mm. You spoke of this to Edgar?"

  "No. He appeared to be in no state to talk of marriage. He will not wed - that is clear. Not in the near future. Henry told me to judge for myself."

  "So-o-o! My younger brother adjudges me suitable and assigns me a wife!"

  "Scarce that, Alex! Henry would have his daughter to wed either the King of Scots or the heir to the King of Scots. I am but his messenger."

  "Very well."

  "There are advantages in the matter, surely. To have the King of England as good-father and good-brother both . . ."

  "To be sure. I am not witless nor lost to reason, Davie."

  "No - but such match could mean much to Scotland . . ."

  "I have said very well. What more do you want, man?"

  David stared. "You mean . . .? You mean that you agree? That you will indeed wed the Lady Sybilla? Just, just. . . so?"

  "That is the object of your mission, is it not? What more need I say?"

  "You, you do not wish to hear more? Of this young woman, Sybilla? Of Henry's proposals?"

  "My terms for the marriage will be a matter between myself and Henry Beauclerc, Davie - spoken to by more seasoned envoy than my youngest brother! As for this Sybilla, I know nothing of her. But provided that she has two legs and what goes between them, and is the King of England's daughter, I shall wed her! I can seek my comforts and pleasures elsewhere— as no doubt does Henry!"

  "Henry is devoted to our sister." David was indeed perceiving what sort of man was this brother. The pert and unmanageable Sybilla might well meet her match here. Ethelred had been right when he said that Alex had time only for the business on hand but that such business would receive his full attention and decision. He shrugged. "She, Sybilla, is . . . spirited. She is not beautiful. But she is not lacking in, in a woman's parts. Indeed she makes that plain, at times! She is French, of course. Her mother, Sybille Corbet, is sister to Renaud de Dunsterville. Henry spent his early manhood in Normandy . . ."

  "No doubt. I did not suspect that Henry was a saint! I have a bastard or two of my own - and will be surprised not to have more! Which, Davie minds me - I have a lady awaiting me. I had her nicely warmed. A pity if she should cool off!" Alexander rose. "So, unless you have more of earth-shaking import for me, I shall bid you good night!"

  David nodded. Apparently his mission was completed. "If there is more that you wish to hear, I can tell you tomorrow”

  The morrow brought no particular questioning from Alexander, only the announcement that he was for off — and not back to the Ward of the Stormounth, where David had thought to accompany him for a brief spell before setting off southwards again, but north-east to the Mearns, to another palace, the hunting-seat of Kincardine, sixty miles away. It seemed that the lady he was presently interested in was the wife of the elderly Thane of Edzell nearby. There was no suggestion that his brother and friends should join him at Kincardine. As the wedding festivities appeared to be breaking up at Dunkeld, Ethelred proposed that David and his companions should return with him to Forteviot, for so long as they might wish, before commencing the
long ride south to Winchester.

  This they were glad to do. Alexander did not so much as bid them goodbye, in the end.

  Forteviot, the ancient Pictish capital, lay some twenty-five miles to the south, in Strathearn, near where Earn joined Tay and Tay widened to its estuary. The old palace here had been the seat of a succession of Scots kings, from Kenneth the First, MacAlpin, for two hundred years until Duncan the First, David's grandfather, had deserted it for nearby Dunsinane; so it was apt enough that it should now be the home of the most true heiress of that venerable line, Ethelred's wife, Malvina. The first Duncan had been not exactly a usurper but with less right to the throne than the offspring of Kenneth the Third -that is Gruoch, who had married MacBeth, a granddaughter. Lulach had been her son, and he had heired the throne for six months after his stepfather's, MacBeth's death, before Duncan's son Malcolm Canmore slew him, as he had slain MacBeth, and took the crown. This, the Lady Malvina, was Lulach's daughter and had married Ethelred.

  She proved to be a gentle creature, holding no evident grievances. There were two sons, Angus and Malcolm, still only boys. It did not fail to occur to David, although he did not mention it, that if all had their hereditary rights, and primogeniture meant anything, it should be this young Angus to whom Henry should seek to marry his daughter in due course, not Alexander, since he it was who was lineal heir both of his mother's and his father's lines.

  A few days at Forteviot by the Earn and they were ready for the journey south. David debated with Ethelred whether he should call again upon Edgar on the way — and was guiltily relieved when his elder brother said that he could see no point in it, at present. Edgar would not thank him, desiring only to be left alone; and there was nothing that he could do to help him, anyway. That David should feel the same way himself did not greatly assuage his conscience.

  They started on the long road to Winchester, down the centre of Lowland Scotland, to cross the stripling Forth at Stirling, not going within a score of miles of Edinburgh, making for Clyde and Annan and Esk.

  5

  ANOTHER WEDDING AND a very different one, exactly a year later, with much pomp and ceremony. Henry almost seemed as though he must make up for his daughter's illegitimate birth by giving her a wedding as splendid as his own six years earlier. Again Anselm the Archbishop officiated, in Winchester Minster, and all the greatest of the land were invited. It was largely a show, to be sure, to demonstrate Henry's policy towards Scotland, his belief that there were better ways of influencing events than by drawing sword. He professed to be disappointed that the King of Scots had not come south with his brother, as invited; but probably was just as well pleased, for by all accounts Edgar would have been apt to put a damper on the proceedings, even though in somewhat better state, apparently, than he had been.

  Alexander himself, strangely enough, seemed to take it all a deal less seriously than did Henry, making little or no attempt to create an impression, bringing no large train with him, wearing no splendid clothing, treating the entire affair it seemed rather cynically as something of a necessary evil which fell to be got through as expeditiously and with as little fuss as possible. Amongst all the richly-dressed Normans, the bridegroom looked like something of a poor relation. Even David was better turned-out than his brother. This could be only deliberate, for Alexander's earldom of Gowrie was far from poverty-stricken.

  He even cut fine his appearance on the scene, arriving only the day before that fixed for the ceremony, to Henry's considerable offence. Alexander's first meeting with his bride, that evening, was on a par with the rest, low-key to a degree. Sybilla, resembling her sire, stocky, short-legged and plain of feature, was dressed most handsomely to display her prominent bosom, undoubtedly the aspect of which she was proudest, her rather sallow cheeks and wide mouth reddened, her small eyes sharp, lively. On her father's arm, she stared, to take in her husband-to-be's lithe manly figure, long, reddish-fair hair, keen glance and slightly twisted half-smile, and sank down in a full curtsy before him, leaning forward so that he gained the benefit of her breasts, head demurely dipped but eyes upwards, bold, searching.

  "Lady!" he said, and that was all, stepping forward to raise her up and to kiss her stubby-fingered, capable hand.

  "My lord Alexander," she acknowledged, her French voice husky for one so young. She dropped her father's arm and turned to take the younger man's. They moved off together, as though they had known each other all their lives, David and the Queen as surprised as was Henry.

  The King fingered his clean-shaven chin thoughtfully, before leading the way, with his wife, into the hall for the banquet. "Those two, I think, would bed together this night before the wedding!" he observed. None thought to controvert that nor to comment that neither would be apt to prove inexperienced in the business.

  Next day, at noon, David, who was to act groomsman, waited with Alexander at the chancel-steps of the great minster of St. Swithin, quite close to where he had stood those seven years before at Rufus's Crown-wearing, The two brothers were isolated, today, although the cathedral was packed, target for all eyes. Not that Alexander showed any awareness of it, any nervousness or concern, as he stared about him at the architecture, the painted glass, the plenishings and decorations, dressed more or less as he had been the night before. David was considerably the more affected.

  A flourish of trumpets heralded the Queen's entry, from the chapter-house doorway, with her ladies-in-waiting, the Dean coming to lead her over to one of the throne-like chairs on the right of the chancel, nearer the high altar. Maud gave her brothers a warm smile in the by-going. The sweet chanting of a large choir ushered in the celebrants' procession, Giffard, Bishop of Winchester, leading the way, gorgeously vested. After the minster's clergy Anselm himself brought up the rear, looking frail and old. He was only recently returned to Canterbury after a second exile of nearly three years, for he had withstood Henry over the question of the investiture of bishops, and returned to Normandy. His officiating today was the measure of his fondness for Queen Maud. He took up his place, with the others, before the altar.

  A louder and longer fanfare turned all eyes, as the King entered, his daughter on his arm. Sybilla's person was more covered-up today; but she made up for this in the vivid colours of her apparel and the glitter of her jewellery. None would say that the Conqueror's grand-daughter would not hold all eyes at her wedding.

  One pair of eyes, however, Sybilla did not hold - David mac Malcolm's. His gaze switched to and was held fast by the young woman who walked alone behind the pages who upheld the bride's train. This was quite the loveliest woman he had ever set eyes upon, a tall and willowy creature, dark-eyed, raven-haired, with fine sculptured features, carrying herself with an unselfconscious pride and grace, to make the stocky, strutting Sybilla seem like a cart-horse compared with a pure-bred Barb. She was no precocious child, this one, but a woman in her earliest twenties, splendidly built, serene of manner. David almost forget to bow as the King nodded graciously to the two brothers waiting there, and turned to lead his daughter up the steps towards the altar. Alexander and he fell in immediately behind this vision of loveliness as they moved forward in turn.

  Here, then, must be the other Matilda, Countess of Northampton and Huntingdon, wife of the lame Simon de St. Liz, Earl of Northampton, child and heiress of the late Earl of Waltheof and the Countess Judith, the Conqueror's niece, also dead, chosen today to attend on Sybilla as the only semi-royal female of the Normandy line available in England. Hers was a strange story. Her father Waltheof, or Waldeve, half-Dane, half-Saxon, son of Siward the Strong, usurping Earl of North-umbria, was like many a son of mighty men, something of a weakling. The Conqueror had married Judith, the hard and shameless daughter of his brother Lambert, Count of Lens, to Waltheof, taken Northumbria from him to put in stronger hands, and given the Mercian earldoms of Northampton and Huntingdon instead, where weakness was less of a danger to the realm. But Waltheof had plotted against William, been betrayed by his wife, and executed, sayin
g the Lord's Prayer. This dark beauty was the offspring. The Conqueror had desired his widowed niece to marry his old campaigning friend Simon de St. Liz, then; but she had scornfully refused, because he was crippled by an old wound. So in fury William had taken the child Matilda as ward and married her to St. Liz instead, barely into her teens, he old enough to have been her grandfather; and taken the earldom of Northampton from Judith also, for St. Liz, leaving her only Huntingdon. When Judith died, Matilda heired that great heritage. Now she attended Henry's pert bastard, one of the most nobly-born heiresses in England.

  It is to be feared that David paid little attention to the wedding service which followed, thinking of all this, especially when Alexander left his side to move forward to his bride, Henry moved away to his throne and he found himself standing beside the Countess for the remainder of the ceremony. Her slight smile to him as they took up their positions behind the principals, threw him into a strange turmoil of emotion.

  Alexander and Sybilla duly pronounced man and wife, the bridal party moved down through the packed nave, behind the chanting choristers, to the great west doorway of the minster, David and the Countess still side-by-side. Out in the sunlight before the cheering crowds, a horse-litter was brought forward to convey the bride to the palace, Alexander walking alongside, still behind the pacing choir. No provision appeared to have been made for the Countess, although another litter was waiting for the Queen.