by H A CULLEY
Malcolm had turned around to see if his son was following him when he reached the far bank. When he saw him fall he groaned and tried to free himself from the knight who had saved him but the man wouldn’t let go. They argued and by the time that the enraged king had kicked the other man off his horse and turned to retrace his steps, Hugo was already splashing through the ford.
Hugo had lost his lance but Sir Alain had picked up a discarded one and rode up to give it to Hugo. He and Canmore faced each other and, with a roar of rage, the king kicked his destrier into a charge. Hugo lined up his lance and rode to meet him. Had Malcolm not been so angry and upset he might have been more careful. Hugo aimed at the centre of the king’s shield, meaning to unhorse him, but Malcolm swerved at the last moment. The point of Hugo’s lance glanced off his opponent’s shield and entered his neck just above the top of his hauberk; not that he was aware of it. Malcolm’s own lance had struck Hugo’s shield dead centre and he had been forced back, over the cantle of his saddle, and he hit the ground hard. He was badly winded and he felt as though his back was broken.
As he lay there, unable to move, the knight who had tried to lead his king away to safety rode up, dismounted and, after ascertaining that Malcolm Canmore was indeed dead, he drew his sword and gripping it in both hands he raised his hands over his head, the point aiming downwards at Hugo’s chest. There was nothing that Hugo could do to avoid the blow. He commended his soul to God and waited for the fatal blow.
Just as the Scottish knight started to bring his sword down he arched his back as the point of a sword burst through the chain mail and his blood splashed all over Sir Hugo. For one moment the latter thought that the thick warm liquid smelling of copper with an underlying tang of brine was his. Then he realised with relief that it wasn’t just as the knight collapsed on top of him. When he managed to free himself from the dead body he found himself looking into the grinning face of Sir Alain, the knight from his mesnie who had given him his lance. He had evidently followed him and arrived just as the man was about to strike. Alain had galloped up leaning down in the saddle to thrust his outstretched sword through the other man’s hauberk.
The impetus of the blow, delivered from a galloping horse, had jarred and numbed his whole arm and he had released his sword and freed his hand of the throng around his wrist before pulled his horse to a halt and dismounting to help Hugo.
Hugo had been so certain that he was about to die that he had urinated and voided his bowels in expectation of the fatal blow. Now he pulled off his hauberk with Alain’s help and went to wash the worst off in the river whilst Alain stood guard. As he did so Scots started to cross at the ford a hundred yards or so away, but they ignored them. Word of the death of their king and his heir had spread quickly and all they could think of was fleeing back to their homes as quickly as they could.
Hugo watched them go as he waded back to the bank. At least there should be no more invasions of Northumberland or attempts to regain Cumbria for a while, he thought grimly as he put his armour back on.
-X-
King William was already regretting appointing Anselm as Archbishop of Canterbury. The wretched man was continually criticising his lifestyle and his appearance. Furthermore, he was taking the line that the clergy were above secular law and, more importantly, that the clergy were independent of the king, not a precept that he could ever accept.
He had only appointed him because he thought he was dying and now that he was well again he became vehemently ant-religious, never attending mass and seeking every opportunity to fine churchmen and even sell appointments including bishoprics. Naturally this was something that Anselm would never accept. He blamed Ranulph Flambard, the former Bishop of Durham for all too brief a period, and now King William’s treasurer, for many of these fundraising schemes.
He had gone even further and preached sermons calling for an increased role for senior churchmen in the governance of the kingdom. Another area of criticism was the gaiety prevalent at William’s court. Anselm was a pious and austere man who detested frivolity. His hair was cut very short and he wore a hair shirt on holy days. He fasted on more days than the Church calendar required and never feasted, even when others did at Christmas and Easter.
He and the king had virtually nothing in common and their clashes became more and more frequent. The bishops were divided; the more devout of them siding with Anselm but those to whom political position and the enjoyment of the good things in life were important supported the king.
In return William favoured these churchmen, endowing churches in their dioceses and supporting them against Anselm’s authority when they clashed with the primate. Then came an issue that he and Anselm could agree on. The archbishop was a celibate and strongly believed that all priests should be the same. He and William therefore agreed on a decree banning all ordained clergy from marrying and requiring those who were already married to put aside their wives.
Understandably this produced a furore within the Church. Most married clergy refused to obey the decree and those who did were, in the main, only too glad of the excuse to divorce their shrewish and nagging wives. After a procession of barefoot priests through the streets of London, Anselm was forced to rescind his decree, allowing those were already wedded to continue to live with their wives and children, but banning those still single from marrying.
It was after yet another row with Anselm that William at last received some good news. King Malcolm and his son Edward had been killed at Alnwick on the ninth of November and Malcolm’s queen, the saintly Margaret of Wessex, had followed her husband and son to the grave a few days later. Now Scotland was divided, some supporting the claim of Malcom’s eldest son by his first wife, Duncan, and some the late king’s brother, Donald Bane. It was unfortunate for the Scots that Malcolm had designated the dead Edward, his eldest son by Margaret, as his heir.
Chapter Eleven – The Great Conspiracy
1095
The year had started well. In March Tristan finally wed Hièrru in the village church at Otterburn, followed by a wedding feast in the great hall of the newly completed castle. Two months later the wife of his brother Robert gave birth to a son whom they christened Richard. Hugo had been busy, travelling south for the christening after the wedding and then returning to Northumberland just as the new castle at Wark was finished.
He had been slightly worried about Robert. Although his son was delighted at becoming a father and evidently loved his wife – a rare occurrence amongst the nobility – Hugo had detected an undercurrent of discontent in his son’s demeanour. Perhaps Robert was comparing his sedentary and relatively uneventful existence with the much more exciting life that Tristan led. As he reflected on the difference between the two he suddenly thought of something he had forgotten. Tristan was the elder by a few minutes and so, under English law, he was his heir. However, under French law, which many Normans observed, the second born twin – in this case Robert – was regarded as the elder. Perhaps Robert was jealous of his twin in more ways than one? He would need to give the matter some thought; the last thing he wanted was for his two sons to fall out.
However, he soon forgot about his worries as he enjoyed the ride through the sunlit landscape on the way back to Harbottle. He loved the dramatic landscape of the High Peak with its hills and crags and the wild moorland in the Cheviots had a similar appeal. By comparison the pastoral serenity of most of southern England seemed tame.
He was accompanied by an escort of six knights, their squires and a dozen serjeants. With servants and pack animals the column stretched for some distance as it crawled through the landscape. Although the Scots were quiet, apart from the odd small cross border raid to steal a few head of livestock, it was unwise to travel the borderlands alone. Tristan and Hièrru had taken up residence at Otterburn and so he would be alone at Harbottle when he got there. Edith had elected to stay at Edale rather than keep making the tiring journey back and forth, especially as he planned to return south after a tour of his northern manors.
Hugo was surprised to find out that he didn’t mind her absence as once he would have done. He sighed and his mind wandered as his horse plodded uphill as they neared their destination. He found his thoughts turning to William Rufus.
The king was busy in Wales again, but was making little progress in subduing the unruly inhabitants. Hugo had finally decided that, whilst Rufus was undoubtedly a better king that his brother Robert would have been, he couldn’t overcome his dislike of him as a person. He was generous to his friends but he could turn on them for an imagined slight. His unpredictability earned him few genuine friends, as opposed to the sycophants he surrounded himself with.
However, Hugo was by nature a loyal individual and the thought of siding with either Curthose or even Prince Henry had never occurred to him. The youngest of the three brothers had started to gather a few new adherents who had fallen out with William Rufus or Robert Curthose to his side, though he was far from a threat to either of his brothers at the moment. However, higher politics were not something that bothered Hugo overmuch, or so he thought. That was about to change.
One of many reasons for William’s unpopularity amongst his nobles was his habit of looking for any excuse to extract money from them. These included a hefty new tax payable when heirs inherited land.
When Robert de Mowbray, Earl of Northumbria, had succeeded to a few manors in the West Country from his dead uncle, the king tried to tax him a thousand marks; which represented several years’ worth of income from the manors. The earl had argued but had reluctantly paid up. To recoup his loss he had then increased the customs dues payable by ships unloading at Newcastle and other ports in the North East under his control. Some Norwegian traders had refused to pay the extra dues and so he had confiscated their cargoes until they did. The merchants had complained to the king.
William had not only told de Mowbray to recompense the merchants for the cargo he had seized, he also ordered him to come to court and face judgment for his high handed actions. The earl refused. The king sent a second summons to which de Mowbray replied that he would gladly attend provided the king gave him a safe-conduct first. William didn’t send a safe conduct and repeated his instruction for de Mowbray to present himself in front of him.
Once more de Mowbray refused and William grew alarmed when he learned that the powerful Count of Eu and several barons were supporting de Mowbray’s stand. He decided the time had come for decisive action when he learned of a plot to depose him and replace him with his cousin, Stephen, Count of Aumale.
‘The man must be mad. I only intended to fine him and now he retaliates by threatening to replace me as king. This dispute has got out of hand.’
William was speaking to Ranulph Flambard as he paced up and down the great hall of Nottingham Castle. He had arrived from the campaign in Wales the previous day, having issued orders for an army to muster there prior to moving north. Flambard had ridden up from London to consult with the king, mainly because he was worried about the cost of a new campaign on top of what the army in North Wales was soaking up.
The other man present, Guillaume Peverel, said nothing. Since he had been reinstated as sheriff he had trodden a very cautious path. At that moment a fourth man entered the great hall, brushing the dust from his clothing. He stopped and bowed low to the king before nodding a greeting to both Flambard and Guillaume.
‘Forgive the intrusion, sire. I am returning to my lands in Derbyshire from Northumberland and thought I would call on Guillaume en route.’
‘De Cuille!’ William’s face lost its brooding look and he half smiled a welcome. ‘Just the man! Perhaps you can tell me what de Mowbray is up to.’
‘I haven’t seen the earl for a while, sire, He rarely comes as far north as the border area, though I hear he is at Bamburgh with Morel, the sheriff, at the moment.’
‘Is Morel one of the traitors then?’ The king was surprised. This wasn’t something he had been informed of, although it wouldn’t be too surprising as Morel was the earl’s cousin.
‘As to that, I can’t say. I do know that Ivo de Vesci and most of the other barons in the North have refused to join him. The Count of Eu is with Odinel d’Umfraville at Prudhoe, so I gather, but he too may well have refused to join the conspiracy.’
Much as he detested d’Umfraville, Hugo was not a man to deliberately stir up trouble for anyone. One of his qualities was his fair-mindedness and even his enemies were always treated fairly. Few returned the favour and they regarded it as a fault, not a virtue. Odinel still coveted both Harbottle and Redesdale and, had the boot been on the other foot, he would have tried to embroil Hugo in the plot, at least in the mind of the king.
‘What are de Mowbray’s plans; do you know?’
‘I’m sorry, sire. I have heard little except that he is trying the rally support in Northumberland and that the Count of Eu is travelling around the rest of the country trying to do the same.’
‘Why then is he at Prudhoe? That’s near to Newcastle, is it not?’
‘I gather that he and Odinel are friends. Presumably the earl had tried and failed.’
‘You can stop calling him earl. He has forfeited that title; he’ll be lucky to escape with his life once I catch up with him.’
In the past the king had used mercy as a tool to win round his opponents, but now it seemed his patience with those who rebelled against him was wearing a trifle thin.
‘Right. You said you were returning to Northumberland I think?’
When Hugo nodded the king continued.
‘I want you to carry my summons to the barons in the area to muster at Alnwick. Be prepared to leave within the hour.’
Hugo, unaware that the king was at Nottingham, had planned to spend the night with Guillaume before resuming his journey, but it seemed he would have to forgo that pleasure. Just over an hour later he rode out of the castle gates heading for Alkborough Priory in Lincolnshire for the night. In addition to the king’s summons to the muster at Alnwick, he carried two other documents: a warrant appointing Ivo de Vesci as Sheriff of Northumberland in place of the traitorous Morel and a letter to Odinel d’Umfraville requiring him to arrest the Count of Eu and hold him securely pending the king’s pleasure.
-X-
Hugo watched Odinel’s face as he read the letter from King William. It didn’t help that the Count of Eu and several of his nobles and senior knights were with him and Odinel in the great hall of Prudoe Castle at the time. Hugo didn’t envy Odinel d’Umfraville. The count might be his guest and this castle might belong to him, but at the moment he was outnumbered in his own hall. Apart from his constable and the captain of his mesnie, there were only the two men-at-arms at the entrance he could call on. The count had seven men.
‘Thank you de Cuille,’ d’Umfraville said uncomfortably. ‘I have noted the contents and I will consider them in due course. You may go. You are not welcome here.’
‘I am to take your reply with me, d’Umfraville; and I am not some cur to be dismissed so summarily. I’m your social equal and I’ve ridden a long way with that missive. The least you could do is to introduce me to your guests and to offer me some refreshment before I depart.’
The other man bristled with anger but, before he could say anything, the count offered Hugo his hand.
‘How rude of me. I’m William of Eu and this is my nephew, William of Aldrie.’
‘My lord, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, and that of your nephew. What brings you so far north? I had thought you to be in Normandy.’
‘Oh, I have a few manors in England as well. I had business with Odinel here concerning some of them.’
Hugo knew that William of Eu was being modest. He had over seventy manors in the west of England as well as being the Lord of Hastings. The county of Eu was in Upper Normandy on the border with France. William was therefore a powerful man.
With bad grace Odinel conducted the two Williams and Hugo to the high table. Servants brought bread, cheese and wine and Hugo ch
atted with the count and his nephew but gleaned no useful information, except for the fact that Roger de Lacy was a close friend, something that William of Aldrie let slip and which earned him a glare from his uncle.
Despite the fact that it would soon be dark, Hugo took his leave and made his way towards Alnwick to see Ivo de Vesci. Unsurprisingly Odinel had declined to make any response to the king’s missive. Together with his escort of two knights, four serjeants and three squires, Hugo made it as far as the village of Belsay before night fell, making it dangerous to continue. The manor belonged to Odinel d’Umfraville but the bailiff was happy enough to allow them to sleep in the hall with him and his family when Hugo explained that they had come from Prudhoe.
The next morning Simon woke Hugo at dawn and, seeing that the boy was nervous, he asked him what was wrong.
‘A messenger arrived last night and woke the bailiff. Everyone was asleep so I suppose he thought I was as well.’
‘What was the message?’
‘He was to delay your departure because Sir Odinel was on his way to see you.’
It was more likely that the Count of Eu was trying to catch him up, thought Hugo. If he knew Odinel he would set tightly on the fence until he saw which way things were developing before taking sides. It didn’t take a genius to work out that, once the count knew that the letter he’d delivered was from the king, he would be carrying other messages as well. Doubtless Count William would want to stop them being delivered.
‘Quick, wake the others, we need to leave immediately.’
His men had taken off their armour but had slept in their clothes. They were ready to depart in ten minutes but the flustered bailiff was insistent that they broke their fast before leaving. Hugo politely declined but, when he found out that the grooms and stable boys had hidden their saddles and tackle, he got angry.
Hugo was not an evil man, far from it, but he was not a man to cross. He grabbed the bailiff’s ten year old son, who was standing by the man’s side, when he was told of the missing gear and put his dagger to the boy’s neck, drawing blood. The terrified boy pleaded with his father and the man nodded resignedly.
