There was a brief pause at the obvious reservation. Cospatrick of Dunbar was the greatest noble south of the Forth, lord of most of Lothian as well as the Merse and some of Teviotdale and Tweeddale.
"You have doubts, friend?" Henry asked.
"My doubts are of little import, Sire. But the doubts of certain others, in this matter, may be more telling. I have a letter here, for the Prince David." He drew a folded and sealed document from within his tunic. "More than a letter. That is the Great Seal of Scotland." And he rose, to hand over to David the paper, with the heavy beeswax disc attached by ribbon.
The younger man took it, eyed it, eyed them all. He did not break the lesser seals. "You . . . you know what this is, what it contains?" he asked, a little uncertainly.
"Yes."
"Is it from Alex?"
"No. It is from Edgar. It was written two years ago. By the Chancellor. Signed, in council, by the King, by Edgar. Left with the Chancellor, the Prior of Scone. Who was to send it to you only should the King die. It appoints you Prince of Strathclyde and ruler of all Scotland south of Forth!"
There was a gasping of breaths, then silence.
At length David found his voice. "But. . . but - how can this be? The kingdom — it cannot be split in two!"
"It already is, in many ways. This charter declares that it is for the good of the realm, the whole realm. King Edgar believed that the South would suffer, that Alexander would care little for it. We all believe that to be true. Alexander aims only northwards, to win back the Hebrides and the Highland West. To extend his rule into Moray and Ross - always he has said that. He will have no time for Lothian and the Merse, for Strathclyde and Galloway." He glanced at Henry. "Or Cumbria."
"Even so, the realm must not, cannot, be divided," David insisted. "And Prince of Strathclyde is the title of the heir to the throne. I could be that only if Alex had no son."
Henry nodded. "Does Alexander know of this?"
"Yes. He does not approve of it. But he did not seek to keep it from you, David. Since it had the approval of the council and bore the seal of the realm."
"He will never agree to it. And if the new King does not agree, it can never be. I will not seek to force this, against my own brother's will."
"No, you could not do that, Davie," the Queen agreed. "Yet, and yet ..."
"Yet this requires much thinking on," Henry completed for her.
Cospatrick agreed. "Edgar was right, in large measure. Something requires to be done. About the South. And there is Galloway, also. The Orkney earls have ruled in Galloway, for long. In name, as governors for the King of Scots. But now Orkney itself has been taken, by King Eystein Magnusson of Norway. Who now also rules the Hebrides and much of the Highland seaboard. He could grasp Galloway too - and threaten all the south-west. Scotland could be broken in pieces, as well as divided."
"I have heard that Eystein has his eye on Man, also," Henry said. "He is a dangerous young man. Rash. Worse than was his father, even — Magnus Barefoot."
"That may all be so. But I cannot name myself Prince of Strathclyde and go to take over South Scotland against my brother's royal wishes. Edgar meant well, no doubt. But. . ."
"Not that, perhaps, no," Cospatrick acceded. "Not Prince of Strathclyde. Alexander would look on that as near to rebellion. But something less. Go there as a kind of governor. For Alexander. That might serve."
"I could only do that if requested to do so by Alex, as King. And he will not do that, we may be sure. No - this charter would have been better never written. I shall give you it back unopened, cousin - and you can return it to my brother. That is best. It is all that I can do . . ."
"Oh, Davie," Mary put in. "How hard! Hard on you, when you have always wished for something to do, some part to play, in Scotland. Here is work to your hand — and you must put it away! Poor Edgar saw it, saw that you could play an important and strong part . . ."
"Yet Edgar never sent for me, whilst he yet lived! Only after his death. This charter was, I think, written out of mislike for
Alex rather than out of love for me! Or for Scotland itself, perhaps. No, I shall not ..."
"Wait you - wait," Henry said. "Be not so hasty, David lad. There is the possibility of good in this, I think. With no open offence to my son-in-law Alexander. See you - I have been concerned about Cumbria, for long. William, my brother, took it by the sword, in 1092. Incorporated it in the realm of England, for better or worse. It has been accepted as such, since. Since your father's death, David, the three Kings of Scots, Duncan the Second, Donald and Edgar have not contested it. I have done little or nothing there, not wishing to endanger my policy of goodwill towards Scotland. I have not appointed a governor, even. It is remote and difficult country, its people all but independent. Of England, now - as they were of Scotland before. But, if Norway takes the Isle of Man, which lies off the Cumbrian coast - worse, if Eystein takes Galloway, which borders Cumbria, I must act. Act, before he may do so. I cannot delay much longer."
Henry rose, to pace back and forth before the fire.
"This charter of Edgar's, his will indeed, we hear appoints you Prince of Strathclyde. Strathclyde used to include Cumbria. You say that you will not accept the title. But suppose that I made you Earl of Cumbria? And sent you up there as my governor, of that land. With all authority to ensure its safety. From the Norsemen and others. Alexander could not object to that?"
They all eyed him, wonderingly.
"You would do that?" David demanded. "Trust me with so great a duty? So great an honour - aye, and responsibility?"
"Why not? You are of full age, now - and with sound wits. We have known for long that you were restless, in need of better employment. This would aid you, aid me, aid England - and, I think, aid Scotland too. For although you would be the English Earl of Cumbria, you would still be a prince of Scotland. At the new Caer-luel Castle you would sit on English soil - but all South Scotland would be open to you, if you so required. I think that Alexander might be well pleased to have you there - as my earl, and having rejected the title of Prince of Strathclyde. And it would be a warning to King Eystein. I say that it would provide an answer to much of this vexed matter."
"Davie - is that not an excellent notion?" the Queen exclaimed. "Work for you to do, at last - important work. Henry has said well. We shall miss you here, sorely, but..."
"It is well thought of, yes. And kind. I am flattered by the
King's trust. But - there is already an Earl of Cumbria - your brother Dolfin, Cospatrick. At Caer-luel."
"Yes. But in name only. I think that need not cause difficulty. Dolfin cares nothing for titles and positions. So long as he can hunt and wench and eat and drink, he is content. My father put him there - but he has never sought to rule Cumbria."
"He is an earl of Scotland," Henry pointed out. "Not of England. I have left him at Caer-luel, these years, since he came back after William's death. He has done no harm, and represented some authority. But with Cumbria now in England, I can and should appoint a new earl. No doubt Dolfin can be suitably compensated."
"I shall speak with him," Cospatrick nodded. "I foresee no trouble."
"Excellent! Then, out of much difficulty, much good may come. And we can look for great things from my new Earl of Cumbria!"
David considered his brother-in-law. He recognised very well that the great things looked for were calculated to be for England's benefit rather than Scotland's, that this would be a shrewd move to consolidate the English grip on the former Scots province, and serve as warning to Norway, and all others, that Henry was watching his North-West. Any advantage to Alexander would be purely incidental. Nevertheless, he rose and handed back the paper he held, to Cospatrick, seal still significantly unbroken.
In the game of statecraft he too, perhaps, could learn to play a part.
7
IT WAS MID-APRIL when David rode north again, and in very different style from heretofore. Again he had his two favourite friends with him. but now they were joined by quite
a large group of other young Normans, to form the officer-corps of the Cumbrian army which the new Earl was to build up. As well as these sprigs of the noble and knightly class, there was a band of some three hundred men-at-arms, mainly Norman likewise, tough veterans these, destined to train and form the backbone of the local Cumbrian force. Henry was not looking for war and armed conflict, but recognised the wisdom of demonstrating that he was prepared for it. So they made a very martial company - and David had some difficulty, on the long ride, in preventing some of them from acting the part too enthusiastically.
For the first time, he was really aware of the heady experience of wielding almost unfettered power. He wore a golden earl's belt — which, under the King, gave him unquestioned authority as well as rank. He was the Crown's lieutenant and representative, also, so that his word was law. And he had immediate command over this large and effective body of armed and experienced men, who would carry out his every order, even whim. It was a strange and exciting situation for a young man in his early twenties who hitherto, however illustrious his background, had wielded no personal power whatsoever. Time and again he was tempted to demonstrate this new-found potency and authority — but managed to restrain himself, deliberately seeking not to allow any change in his attitudes and behaviour to become evident. Nevertheless he was honest enough with himself to recognise that there was a change, that he was not exactly the same person, in some respects. Power, authority and responsibility do alter any man, inevitably. David mac Malcolm had at least been near enough, all his life, to those in that position, to observe and heed the dangers and aloneness, as well as the elations and opportunities.
Yet, on the fourth evening out from London, he found himself faced with a test of his resolve and authority both, unpalatable as it was urgent. They were spending the night at the manor of Great Stoughton on the Kym, actually one of the Huntingdon manors belonging to Earl Simon and the Countess Matilda although still occupied by its Saxon tenants; and after eating in the somewhat decrepit hall, David felt the need to stretch his legs after a long day in the saddle. He went walking, with three or four of his closer friends, Robert de Brus, son of the Lord of Cleveland, and Walter fitz Alan, son of the Lord of Oswestry, as well as Hugo and Hervey. Strolling through the woodland, which was an outlying portion of the Forest of Kymbolton, they became aware of a hubbub some distance to their right, men's shouts and women's screams, masked by the trees. As these continued, David turned, to lead the way, hurrying through the copsewood towards the noise.
They came into a clearing, where there was a small hamlet of clay-and-timber hutments, thatched with reed-straw, evidently one of the many charcoal-burners' communities on which the iron-workers everywhere depended. The place was in turmoil, with about a score of the mainly fair-haired Saxon men and women grouped round about one of the cothouses, exclaiming and gesticulating, whilst children cried and dogs barked. They were being kept at bay before the open doorway of one of the hovels by two armed Norman troopers with drawn swords, who grinned and feinted and challenged. None of the villagers were armed. All were so preoccupied with what they were doing that only the dogs noticed the newcomers' arrival.
Pushing forward through the throng, David and his companions confronted the contestants — and at sight of the young nobles in their richer clothing, the shouting died away. The two soldiers looked alarmed and suddenly guilty, dropping the points of their swords.
"What is to do here?" David demanded. "Put away those swords."
There was no answer from the pair; but an answer of sorts came from within the hovel, a moaning sound.
Thrusting past the hesitant pair at the door, David strode within. There he found three people, two more Norman soldiers, one standing watching, dagger drawn, eager, the other on the earthen floor- or rather, on top of a young girl, sufficient of whose clothing had been torn off to reveal that she could be no more than twelve or thirteen years.
Stooping, to take the busy rapist by the ear, David twisted viciously, pulling the cursing, spluttering man off his victim. Handing him over to his friends, he then sought to raise up the gibbering, shocked child, attempting to comfort and soothe, and in some measure rearrange her disordered clothing. But the girl cringed away from him, sobbing. Whipping off his short riding-cloak, worn to counter the chill of the April evening, he wrapped it around her.
"Take these, these animals back to the hall," he ordered, having difficulty with his speech. "I shall deal with them later." Then he led the trembling child out.
The parents rushed forward to claim her, and David found himself almost afraid to meet their agonised and accusing eyes. He said, haltingly, that he was sorry, ashamed, that the evil men would be punished. He offered the couple a silver piece, and when they rejected it, insisted that they take it - although recognising that there might be little enough that such folk could do with it. Then, finding that the little community wanted nothing to do with him, he turned unhappily away, leaving the cloak with the girl.
Back at the camp beside the hall, he commanded an immediate assembly of all the company. As the men, grumbling, were being gathered in, he demanded whose soldiers were the four involved, and was told that they were in Drogo de Limesay's command. He ordered young Limesay and the four to be brought and placed in the midst.
When all who could be found were present, David raised his hand and spoke. "I gave clear and strict orders to you all, when we set out on this enterprise, that there was to be no indiscipline in my command, no pillaging, no ravishing, no savagery used against the people of the land. They are our fellow-subjects of King Henry. This order has today been grievously disobeyed. It is the plain duty of every officer to see that his commander's orders are carried out. Therefore you, Drogo de Limesay, are not guiltless in this matter." He forced himself to frown heavily at Limesay, a cheerful and uncomplicated character whom he liked very well, and who looked bewildered.
"As for these four men," he went on, "they have disgraced my name and command. They drew steel on harmless and peaceable people, in order to wreak their evil desires on a girl young enough to be the daughter of any of them. These are not callow youths but grown men, veteran soldiers. Chosen for this venture and duty of training my Cumbrian levies. They may have behaved so in Normandy, but here they obey my orders and act like soldiers of a Christian king. I know that men need women on occasion — we all do. But the women shall be willing. Do your hear- willing! Cold steel is no proof of manhood. If you must thrust with that before you thrust with the other, you are not worth the name of men! You will remember that, all of you."
David drew a long and rather uneven breath. "These must be punished. I could, perhaps should, hang them. But I need trained soldiers. There is no need for trial, for I myself caught them in the act. They shall be whipped - and you shall all witness it. Twenty lashes each of an oxen-whip for the two who were inside the hut. Ten each for the two who waited their turn outside, with drawn swords. And, and you, Drogo de Limesay, shall do the whipping."
"No, David — no, my lord Earl!" that young man cried. "Not me, I pray you! I cannot do it. It is not suitable. For one nobly born . . . !"
"You will do so, I say. For all to see. These are your men. You have responsibility for their behaviour. And you will not be gentle about it. For each too light lash, an extra one will be required!"
So the four culprits were tied to palings of the hall farmery, their tunics removed, and a long hide whip, for use with a team of plough-oxen, produced. Young Limcsay, who was not very efficient at wielding the thing, was ordered to practise on the trunk of a nearby tree, before all; then reluctantly started upon his victims. Even so he remained inexpert, and probably the resultant floggings were less than usually effective. Nevertheless they were sufficient to change the men's white backs quite quickly into an aspect of raw red meat - although only one of the sufferers called out during the prolonged process. David himself hated every moment of it quite as much as did Limesay, but forced himself to watch every stroke, gr
itting his teeth as each lash struck. He did not, however, claim that any of the blows were too feeble and must be repeated.
When at last the sixty lashes had cracked out and the bleeding victims sagged against their palings, David gazed round at the silent, watching throng.
"Let us all remember this," he said. "It is not pretty - but nor is rape and oppression. Worse than this will befall the next offenders. I shall reward good service - and punish disobedience. And see that all under me do likewise. Now, Drogo de Limesay, you will take these four, as they are now, and display them to those folk in the charcoal-burners' village. As sign of the Earl of Cumbria's justice . . ."
During the rest of the journey northwards there were no further outbreaks of indiscipline. And the young Norman lordlings and knights tended to eye David mac Malcolm rather differently also, with more deference, even Hugo de Morville and Hervey de Warenne — although that young man himself was far from doing so. It seemed to him a strange commentary on the nature of men that an act of counter-savagery not only should be necessary to enforce regard for justice, but that it should enhance the regard of others for the perpetrator.
A large party travels more slowly than a small and it took almost two weeks to reach Caer-luel on the northern edge of Cumbria. There the Earl Dolfin was waiting for them, and with no sort of ill-will. Cospatrick had been to see him on his way home to Scotland; and his brother was content, indeed seemed almost thankful, to relinquish any responsibility he had felt for the province to his second-cousin David. He asked only that he be allowed to retire to the family's lordship of Allerdale, in the fells to the east, where his sister, Ethelreda, formerly Queen to Duncan the Second, dwelt with her son William — and where the hunting was the best in all Cumbria. David, who had assumed that Dolfin would return to Scotland, to one of the Dunbar and March properties, saw no objection to this however, and agreed. In fact, after he had talked for a while, that evening, with his cousin, he came to the conclusion that to have him nearby might be a useful development. Dolfin was clearly-popular with the local Cumbrian notables, and this could help the new administration. Also he might prove a valuable adviser. For although lazy and pleasure-loving, he was no fool, and knew the situation here better than anyone, having been Earl of Cumbria for a score of years. Likewise, as brother of the former Queen, he might serve as some link with that faction in Scotland who distrusted the Margaretsons. And these were strong in Galloway, apparently.
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