After a brief prayer for God's guidance on their deliberations, Fothad the Chancellor made an opening speech explaining something of the reasons and need for this conference, and the benefits which could accrue to their land and people from certain reforms and adjustments in their ancient Church, even possible amendment of mistaken doctrines. He added that last rather hurriedly, and sat down.
All waited, then, for a fine-looking man of middle years, who sat inconspicuously amongst the others, dressed in the simple black robe with leather belt worn by all the Celtic clergy irrespective of position — the Abbot Dunchad of Iona, St. Columba's successor and true leader of the Church, as senior abbot, even though not the Primate. He had arrived only that morning, having had a long way to travel; but without him the council would have been to little effect.
"My friend," he said, deep-voiced. "It is right and proper that our humble and unworthy part of Christ's Body the Church should recognise its sins, shortcomings and backslidings. Likewise seek to improve itself in God's service. To this end, I say, all here ought to be agreed. But you speak of reforms and mistaken doctrines. Will you enlighten us on whether we are here to acknowledge failures in practice or to debate alleged mistaken doctrines? There is, you will agree, a distinct difference."
"I suggest both, Brother Dunchad," the Bishop answered carefully. "We should not limit ourselves, I think, in this council."
"To be sure. But that implies that there are mistaken doctrines, Brother Fothad. Doctrines common to us all, not only to individuals who may personally err. If that is your contention, we ought to know where you conceive these mistakes and errors to lie. It is a grave matter to accept that our Church is mistaken in its doctrines. I am only a humble and ignorant servant of the Church, and know not of these errors. But I am prepared to receive instruction."
There was a noticeable pause, with Fothad understandably hesitant. He was suddenly in a very difficult position, thus early. Although St. Andrews was the most prominent bishopric, as it was the wealthiest, and he was the Chancellor of the realm, he was in no position to instruct his senior, the Abbot of Iona, in doctrine or anything else — except perhaps finance — as all there realised very well. He coughed.
"The alleged errors are . . . various," he said, rather feebly. And glanced over at the Queen.
"So there are a number of them? Which we in our frailty have missed? Now, in God's providence, and in the fullness of time, revealed? To you, Brother?"
Holy mirth was discreetly manifested.
"There is the matter of Lent. And of Easter, Brother Dunchad, on which we differ from the rest of Christendom. For a start."
"Differ from the Romish communion, my friend," the Abbot reminded gently. "Which is not the rest of Christendom. Have you forgot the great Eastern Church in all its many branches? But. . . how are we mistaken in the observance of Lent?"
"It is suggested that we have always calculated the time of it awry."
"Who suggests it, friend? You? Only now? After you have been bishop for a score of years?"
Unhappily Fothad looked again at the Queen.
Margaret was only too eager to come to his rescue. She leaned forward in her throne-like chair. "My lord Abbot," she said. "If I said that I suggested it, that would be but vanity, presumptuousness, unsuitable in a mere woman. But when I remind you that a thousand bishops and archbishops of Holy Church assert it, led by the Holy Father,
St. Peter's successor in Rome, himself, then the matter calls for some consideration, does it not?" She spoke simply, clearly, modestly.
Dunchad bowed towards her. "Highness — you are right to remind us whence come these assertions of error. Rome we all respect. But do not seek slavishly to emulate."
"Not even when Rome is demonstrably right, my lord?"
"Lady — of your forbearance, lord is a title we in our Church reserve only for One. In matters secular it is different. The Primate here, is the lord Earl or Mormaor. But as Abbot of Dunkeld he is but our brother in Christ. Forgive us, of your charity, our little foibles and distinctions. But . . . you said demonstrably right, Highness?"
"Yes, Abbot Dunchad — and I regret my error over the honorific. I do applaud your distinction in that respect. As to Lent. It is a simple calculation, is it not? Lent is the forty days fast of Our Lord. You commence your Lent, not on Ash Wednesday as do others, but on the Monday after the following Sunday?"
"From that Monday to Easter Sunday is forty days, is it not?"
"Forty days, less six Sundays. Which are not fast-days, never fast-days. So you fast only thirty-four days."
'Did Our Lord's forty days in the wilderness not include Sundays? Or Sabbaths, lady?"
"Perhaps. But the injunction put upon us as Christians, by the holy apostles, is to fast forty days. Your Church fails in that."
"Is Almighty God so concerned with such calculations, Highness?"
"He has given us, made in His own image, the wits to calculate aright, Abbot. If we are going to obey the injunction to fast forty days, we should surely do it accurately."
"As I see it, the issue is unimportant, depending upon whether forty days' fasting means a period of six weeks less two days, or forty different and distinct days, not necessarily consecutive. Scarcely a sufficient issue to divide Christendom!"
"So say I, Abbot Dunchad — so say I! Not sufficient. But since it is you, the small Columban Church, which calculates differently from all the rest, for the sake of the unity of Christ's Body, should you not accept the alteration?"
"If that was all that divided us, I might say yes, lady. But — how say others?"
Most there clearly esteemed the matter of too little importance to argue over.
"The next issue I have noted," Bishop Fothad announced, "is that of the Holy Eucharist on Easter Sunday. It is our custom not to celebrate it on that day. As a sign of our penitence. Acknowledgement that we are all guilty of the shameful death of our risen Lord. The Queen considers this in error..."
"It is not the Queeny Bishop Fothad, who so considers. But all the rest of Holy Church," Margaret intervened strongly. "Of all days to commemorate Christ's Body and blood, surely the festival of the Resurrection is the greatest?"
"Is that not a matter of judgement?" another abbot asked, Gillibride of Restenneth, a dark, intense-seeming youngish man. "If we judge Good Friday the most grievous day in the Church's year, with the greatest weight of blood-guiltiness upon us all, should all be forgotten two days later? Should not our shame and repentance at least cause us to deny ourselves the benefits of the sacrament the following Sunday?"
"If that Sunday, sir, is the most joyous of the year, the celebration of mankind's hope and certainty of everlasting life, the resurrection from the dead, should not of all days this be the most worthy of participation? Abstain the Sunday before, if you will. But not on Easter Day."
"Can any true sense of guilt be so swiftly banished, lady? If it is a real abasement on the Friday can it be so completely gone by Sunday? And, if not, recollect what the blessed apostle enjoined. 'He that eateth and drinketh unworthily, eateth and drinketh damnation unto himself.'"
"What, then? Shall all who are sinners refuse to partake of the holy mysteries? Always? For that is where your reasoning leads, sir — since we are always utterly unworthy. Or would you have advised Almighty God to retain Our Saviour longer in the tomb, if three days does not suffice you?" She paused, on a sudden intake of breath, and gazing about her, shook her lovely head. "Oh, I am sorry!"she exclaimed. "I should not have said such a thing. God forgive me! And you, sir. My foolish tongue outran me. It often does. I crave the pardon of all."
Everywhere men cried out. But it was not condemnation nor offence. Quite the reverse. Abruptly, she had almost all that assembly, whatever they thought of her theology, approving of her heartily. By that one spontaneous, so-human apology, so utterly unexpected in a queen, she gained more than all the arguments of doctrine or conviction. Women might have been less affected, but there were only three
other women present, and they were mere spectators, on her side anyway. Even the Abbot of Iona was moved to reassure her.
"Never fear, Highness — it was none so ill said. Such talk is no doubt good for our souls, at times! And you may be right, in the wider issue — this of Easter communion. We shall consider it. . ."
But even all this acclaim and goodwill did not suffice to make her next point acceptable — for now all there recognised that, whatever the nominal authority and whoever presided, this was Queen Margaret's conference, called at her instigation. Bishop Fothad announced the subject of communion in both kinds, Bread and Wine — and immediately there was a stir of concern, a stiffening of the ranks. Sensing it, Margaret advisedly held her tongue meantime.
"This is an old story," Abbot Dunchad said. "We know that the Romish Church proffers only the Bread to the faithful, with only the priest sipping the Wine. Why this should be I have never learned. It seems unreasonable, even somewhat arrogant. The good Lord said 'This is my Blood. Drink ye all of it.' He did not say . . only the Body to the people, the Blood to you, the apostles'. But . . . there is a Romish priest present." He turned to look at Oswald the Benedictine. "Perhaps he will explain it to us?" Undoubtedly the Abbot was seeking to spare the Queen in what he conceived to be a lost cause.
Embarrassed, the Saxon monk rose, after a glance at Margaret. Obviously he had not expected to have to speak. In somewhat bull-like and jerky fashion he did his best.
"It is the teaching of Holy Church," he began. And then, perhaps realising that might sound a shade dogmatic in present circumstances, added, "The Holy See has always instructed that the Whole Person of Christ is contained in the consecrated Bread. The Blood is naturally contained within the body, is it not?"
"Then why did Our Lord bless the Wine also? And say again 'Drink ye all of this'?"
"The priest does bless the Wine also. And sips of it. But it is not essential to give to the people."
"So then, Sir Priest, there is a distinction? Between celebrant and people? Two sorts. Discrimination. The one worthy to receive Christ's Blood, the others not?"
"No, it is not that. I do not say that. But it is . . . convenient thus. Since all good is contained in the Bread, the Body. It prevents discrimination indeed, not fosters it. Between rich and poor, between great and small. To provide wine for all would cost poor churches dear. Holy Church can use its treasure to better ends . . ."
"Then this question is not one of doctrine at all, but only of convenience?" Abbot Gillibride interrupted. "Of ... an economy, a frugality?"
Oswald moistened his lips. "Not so. The Doctrine is that the consecrated Bread is enough, sufficient."
"You are inconsistent, friend."
The Benedictine shook' his head, less than happy. "There is added benefit in this," he plunged on. "No sickness nor plague may be transmitted from the chalice. No evilly-disposed person can hurt the many by poisoning the cup, as has been done ..."
A sort of groan went up from the assembly. Cospatrick actually hooted. Margaret stirred restlessly. That would have been better left unsaid.
Abbot Dunchad spoke gently. "I see no reason here why we should alter our rite and custom. Is God's good love not sufficient to protect faithful participants from poison or plague? We thank Him that we have had no such here, forby. And our treasure, although very modest, will suffice to continue to purchase the wine — even the best wine, from Italy!" He smiled faintly.
Margaret lacked nothing in practicality, and knew when to adjust her stance. "This, I think, is a case where the unity of Christ's Church should be the principal guide," she said. "I pray you to consider it in that light."
They left it at that.
There were two more points at issue — Sunday work and marriage within prohibited degrees. The Queen, much aware of the poor showing over the last matter, moved in strongly over what she described as the Celtic Church's failure to preserve the sanctity of the Seventh Day as a day of rest and worship only. She pointed out that in Scotland, after only divine service in the morning, the folk were free to spend their time as they would, and apt to treat the day as one for amusement, great eating and even drinking and work — different perhaps from the earning of the daily bread, but still labour of a sort. Did not all Scripture enjoin otherwise? Rest and worship only?
A Keledei bishop spoke up. Was not the Queen in danger of confusing her authorities here? Confusing the Old and New Testaments? The Jews were enjoined to keep the Sabbath, the Seventh Day, as a day of rest, in the Old Testament. The Saturday, indeed, not the Sunday. But here they were not Jews. Christ's injunction was different, for worship rather than rest. Worship could be other than only divine service. Such should always be held, and attended, on the Lord's Day. But not all the day. The human frame and mind were not normally capable of such constraint — even priests and monks. So worship could become mere repetition, form, not substance, if over-prolonged. Better the briefer and more effective worship. And some joy instead of the daily toil, thereafter. The Church, with joy its true message, could be insufficiently joyful.
Margaret conceded much of that. But asserted that a deal of the so-called joy on Sunday, after service, was no more than licence, much trading and huckstering and immorality went on, defiling a day which had started with the Holy Eucharist. Could any deny it?
Actually she was partly supported in this instance by Abbot Dunchad and others of the Keledei who had been long concerned at the progressive erosion of the Lord's Day. It was generally agreed that some improvement was called for.
The last of the Queen's charges, for this session, concerning marriage, she was less certain about — but the monk Turgot of Durham had impressed upon her how obnoxious to God's will was the union for instance of step-mother and step-son, or of a man and his brother's widow, as allowed by the Columban Church. She merely stated this assertion, without arguing the case. There was some inconclusive discussion. But she did not pursue the issue, partly lacking any great conviction, partly because King Malcolm, who had not opened his mouth throughout, was growing distinctly restive. When she whispered to him that it might be enough for one day, he was on his feet the next moment — and so perforce was everyone else.
Later, and the next day, the clergy would meet again, in private, to debate the points raised, and report thereafter on any decisions reached.
As they filed out after the royal couple, Cospatrick spoke to Maldred. "That young woman will have us all kissing the Pope's toe before she is done! Malcolm is as clay in her hands. That old fool Fothad likewise. It even seems that she may win over the man from Iona. We will have to watch her, lad, or she will bring down this realm!"
"Scarcely that!" Maldred protested. "She could change much, yes. But it could be for the better."
"If she destroys ancient tradition, changes ways of thought, she could do great harm. I am no clerk — but the Church is guardian of much. She is making a strong play for the Church — for her own ends."
"She has her methods. I say that she seems to be playing against the Church, rather."
"In time, yes. But not now. She will seek to draw that Dunchad into her net, you will see. One way or another, with him, and with Fothad — aye, and with that father of yours — she will have the Church as she has the realm, with Malcolm. You will see. She will have Dunchad — if she can."
Maldred was not greatly concerned by all this. But he began to take Cospatrick more seriously when, presently, Margaret sent for him and asked him to go tell the Abbot Dunchad that she would be glad if he would come and see her hereafter. She wished to discuss with him how she and Malcolm might assist in the restoration and rehabilitation of the Abbey of Iona, burned and badly damaged in Viking raids a few years before.
After the private assembly next day, Bishop Fothad came to report. The council had reached the following conclusions. It was recommended that Lent would in future commence on Ash Wednesday. The Eucharist could be celebrated and dispensed on Easter Sundays at the discretion of individual
bishops. Communion would continue to be administered in both kinds. Strong steps would be taken to improve the keeping of the Lord's Day. And a further conference would consider more fully the question of marriage between degrees of relationship. Margaret Atheling praised Almighty God.
13
LONG-FEARED AND prepared-for as it had been, Norman William's assault took Scotland by surprise. Word had barely reached them, in late April, that the Conqueror had returned from France, before reports began to flood in of fleets heading north from the Wash, the Humber, the Tees, even the Thames, concentrations of ships which had been known about but which had been alleged to be assembled for reinforcement of an enlarged French campaign against King Philip. Almost the entire Norman army, of four thousand mounted knights alone, with unnumbered spearmen and archers, was being moved up, accounts said, directly from the Channel ports, having come over from Normandy, by sea and land, with no breathing-space between campaigns.
Cospatrick, who had been given the Dunbar and March earldoms specifically to take responsibility for the initial defence of the Border marches, was despatched at once to organise a first line of opposition to any land-based invasion — and Maldred, who now seemed to have become established as his lieutenant, was sent with him. They left hurriedly, at the same time as the Queen and infant prince, with Magda, the Athelings and much of the Court, were packing up to head north for Dunsinane in Fortrenn. Dunfermline, almost on the shore of the Scottish Sea, could be vulnerable, a target for any sea-borne assault. Malcolm did not like Dunsinane because it had been MacBeth's seat — but it was certainly a much stronger position.
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