The newly-weds had had four months together.
Cospatrick and Maldred found the Borderland alive with rumours. There was talk of armies assembling all over the English North. Most seemed to be heading for the Tyne's mouth area, 'Whether to embark in one or other of the aforementioned fleets, or to concentrate for a march on the Tweed crossings, was not clear. But one host was said to be hastening up from the Welsh marches, through Cumbria, not so far swinging across country to the east; so it-looked as though the assault was to be made on both sides of the land — if credence was to be given to these reports. What would be the reaction of the Orkney earls, and Galloway, to such a west-coast advance, remained to be seen. Cospatrick was much less than his usual confident self. Nor did Maldred perceive any cause for optimism.
Nevertheless, they set to work with all speed and endeavour to mobilise and position the maximum manpower of Tweeddale, Teviotdale, Jed, Rule and Ale Waters, Lauderdale, Ettrick and Yarrow, Gala Water and the rest, a large area in and around the skirts of the vast Ettrick Forest. Most of this Maldred had to cover, with local assistance, for Cospatrick himself was dealing with the more populous country of the fertile Merse, where larger numbers could be raised and handled much more swiftly.
So they were separated for four days, during which Maldred was responsible for sending a steady stream of hard-riding, hard-bitten Border dalesmen, reivers and fighters, some of the toughest horsemen in the land, down to Cospatrick in the Merse — a useful contribution.
Thereby, however, he missed such action as this peculiar campaign produced. For on the fifth day, at Ersildoune in Lauderdale, a courier from the Earl reached him, recalling him immediately, with all haste and with whatever company he had at hand. He got back the score or so of miles to Birgham-on-Tweed in the Merse, at almost exactly the same time as messengers from the King arrived from the north — to find the crisis over for the moment. A Northumbrian host under Earl Waldeve had come up by the Till valley and made a concerted attack on the three Tweed fords of Coldstream, Wark and Carham. The first two Cospatrick had driven back without too much difficulty, but the third assault had won across in strength at Carham, and the enemy had only been halted and then driven back likewise after hard righting, with heavy losses on both sides. Waldeve had withdrawn up the Till valley again, presumably to lick his wounds and await reinforcements.
Cospatrick, who was no tame waiter-on-events, was planning to cross Tweed in turn and go teach Waldeve a lesson, before he could recover — after all, he had personal scores to settle with that character to whom the Norman had handed over his Northumbria. But Malcolm's messengers put a stop to that. Cospatrick was to return northwards at once, to join the King at Abernethy-on-Tay.
Despite the Earl's curses, there was no doubt about the situation. All or any hostilities were to cease, forthwith. William himself was now on Scots soil behind them, and in overwhelming strength, armies landed on the Forth, Tay, Clyde and Mearns coasts, possibly elsewhere also. Any unified resistance was impossible, pointless. Malcolm was seeking negotiations with the invader, and had been left in no doubt that such would not be considered unless there was an immediate cession of hostilities in the interim.
Frustrated, alarmed, suspicious, scarcely even believing it all, they had no option but to obey. They did not disperse the Border array, however, but left it guarding the fords of Tweed under local commanders. Then they turned their horses' heads for Fortrenn, with only some two-score men as escort.
Hostilities might have ceased, but much of Lothian seemed to be on fire as they skirted its lovely plain on their northward journey.
At the Stirling crossing of Forth they found the vital bridge and causeway under strong Norman guard. Indeed, they had much difficulty in being allowed to proceed, the haughty knight in command arrogantly hostile. The Earl Cospatrick's name and repute did not advantage them, and in fact it was only the private passing over of a handsome jewelled clasp, part of the Archbishop's treasure, that opened the way for them — although even so they went on with a convoy of Norman cavalry. Cospatrick confided to Maldred that most of these Norman knights, although so proud and lofty-seeming, were in fact nothing more than adventurers, often of quite humble origin, and little more than robbers at heart. Even some of the men now boasting English earldoms had started out as ordinary horsed bandits. The breed could seldom resist gold.
They rode on through the green Ochil passes to Glen Farg and the opening vale of the Tay. It proved to be as well that they had their Norman escort now, for almost every strategic position they came to was occupied by invading troops, who were obviously well-informed as to Scots geography, and who were in strength sufficiently to hold up even quite large hosts. There was no doubt that King William knew the business of war.
Emerging on to the Tay plain near the confluence of the Earn, where MacBeth had fought his great battle with Waldeve's father Earl Siward the Strong, it was as though battle was again imminent. The entire riparian level was an armed camp — or rather two, with the winding River Earn dividing them, Scots to the west, English to the east, endless lines of waiting men and horses, pavilions, tents, camp-fires, colourful banners, and everywhere the glint of sun on steel. How many thousands filled that plain there was no calculating; but it was very apparent that there were far more English than Scots. Also that the former were in strength on the north side of Tay likewise; while the estuary itself was full of their shipping. Since there had been enemy forces all the way north, and there were no doubt more up Strathearn westwards, as their Norman escort asserted, the hopelessness of the Scots position was all too evident.
Malcolm's instructions had been to come to him at Abernethy, a couple of miles to the east; but their Norman knight conducted the newcomers down the side of the River Farg to near its junction with the Earn, this in turn only a mile or so to the latter's confluence with great Tay. Here, at the farmstead of Culfargie, Malcolm was based, with the Earls of Fife, Angus, Lennox and other leaders. Cospatrick's and Maldred's arrival produced no notable elation in a gloomy and humiliated company.
It transpired that Malcolm, High King of Scots, was actually waiting here, on his own Scots soil, for permission to approach William the Bastard of Normandy at Abernethy, and that permission was being withheld until he could produce Edgar Atheling with him before the Conqueror. Edgar had gone to Dunsinane with Margaret and the others. Until he came, no appearance could be made, no terms discussed.
"What terms, man!" Cospatrick demanded bluntly. "He has you in his grip. You are in no position to seek any terms. Nor is William the man to grant any. Instead of waiting here, on his pleasure, you should surely be cutting your way back through these English to the west, into the Highland mountains? Where William could not follow you, not with his heavy chivalry. Even with a small company you could hold out in the hills for long."
"Fool! Think you I have not considered that? He could blockade me into those mountains — as his ships are blockading my seaboard now. I would be like a treed cat, an outlaw in my own land! I have a wife and child to think of. Better to make what terms I can. Get him away out of my realm, whatever the cost — since he cannot bide here for long, with so much else to hold down, the Saxons, the Welsh, the Irish, the Cornish, even his own Normandy and French possessions. Get him away — and then we shall see how his terms will hold!"
"You will have to pay dear to get that one away, cousin!"
"Perhaps. But all the cost may never be paid. Invaders often swallow more than their bellies can digest!"
Soon after this Edgar was brought in, from Dunsinane, looking highly alarmed and protesting strongly. And with him, unexpectedly, came his sister the Queen.
Malcolm was upset, concerned — especially when Margaret insisted that she should accompany them to the interview with William. At least she had left the infant prince back at Dunsinane.
The King put on the best display possible for his humiliating meeting, taking with him a large and high-born company, decked out in their fines
t, under a score of banners, played on by a dozen pipers. Edgar Atheling went most reluctantly — and Margaret was moved to remind her husband that whatever transpired, Edgar was still his guest, with responsibility remaining for his well-being.
They had to ride through the seemingly endless English camp, objects of much interest but little respect from the soldiery, with some hooting and jeering. The Conqueror had taken over the ancient Abbey of St. Brigit of Abernethy for his quarters, summarily ejecting the monks. All around that pleasant place on its shelf of the green slope of the Ochil foothills, with its pencil-shaped round tower, small church, spreading monastic buildings and related township, was now the special encampment of the thousands of Norman knights, William's main and dreaded arbitrament of war, the scourge of Christendom, their magnificent horses tethered in long, regular lines, their armour stacked in gleaming piles crowned by painted shields, their pennons, flags and emblems a colourful riot, the abbey furnishings fuelling their camp-fires. In the midst of these the Scots had to wait, at the abbey gates, until William deigned to allow them entry — which was some considerable time — Malcolm fuming, Margaret calmly urging patience. The ignominy of it all was made worse for the monarch, undoubtedly by the Norman's deliberate choice, in that this Abernethy had been the ancient capital of the Picts, taken over by Kenneth Mac Alpine of the Scots, Malcolm's own ancestor.
At length the ranked spearmen at the gates received orders to permit the Scots to enter the monastic precincts. -They were ordered to dismount, however, and flanked by soldiers like any file of prisoners, they were marched in — although deliberately they dawdled.
Outside the abbot's house they found a group of Norman notables awaiting them, these proffering no greetings. With their short hair, clean-shaven chins, chain-mail tunics and colourful linen surcoats, they were very distinct in appearance from both the Scots and Saxons.
"William is not there," Cospatrick murmured, at Malcolm's back. He and Edgar Atheling were the only ones present who had seen the Conqueror before.
"There is one of his bastard brothers, Count Robert of Mortain," Edgar amplified. "A scoundrel!"
"Are not they all?" Malcolm said. He raised his voice. "I am Malcolm of Scotland. We have come to see William of Normandy, calling himself King of England. Acquaint him of our royal presence."
"He is well enough acquaint, never fear, sirrah!" the Count Robert, a stocky, grim-looking individual with a cast in one eye, returned gruffly. "Since he summoned you — Malcolm, calling yourself King of Scotland! My brother will come when he is ready. He is, I think, having his hair trimmed. As others might emulate!"
There was laughter from the assembled Normans.
Malcolm glared. He was about to reply, angrily, when Margaret touched his wrist.
"You must be the Count Robert?" she called, easily, pleasantly. "Since I do not think that you are the Bishop Odo of Bayeux."
The Norman barked a laugh of a sort. "No, Christ be praised — I am not Odo!" He pointed a finger. "Who is this woman?'
"I am Margaret. Wife to the King. However unworthy."
"So! And sister to him!" The finger changed direction, to jab towards Edgar. "The trouble-maker."
"The undoubted heir of King Edmund and King Edward, sir, nevertheless," she amended quietly. "That you will not deny?"
"God's Blood — heir of hairy poltroons, fumblers . . . !" the other was exclaiming, when a stir behind him turned all heads. Another man of almost exactly similar build and appearance, save that he had no eye-cast and he wore a gold circlet round his crop-haired brows, had emerged from the abbot's lodging and was eyeing all keenly. The Normans all bowed, even Count Robert ducking his bullet-head.
The Scots remained silent, unmoving.
"The King Malcolm whom you sent for, Sire," Robert said, in a different tone. "And the Lady Margaret, his queen."
"Ah." William came down the two steps. He scarcely glanced at Malcolm, his keen, narrow eyes on Margaret. A man of forty-five years, he was well-known to be much interested in women. "We are unexpectedly honoured, cousin," he said. Their cousinship was very distant; he had indeed been Edward the Confessor's cousin, hence his claim to the English throne.
Margaret bowed, but left the first speaking to her husband.
Malcolm spoke heavily. "If you are William of Normandy, then I would ask why you are on Scottish soil lacking my invitation or permission, sir?"
The other did not so much as glance in his direction. "To what are we indebted for this . . . felicity, lady?" he went on, conversationally, his voice unexpectedly light, very different from his brother's. "Do not tell me that my poor presence so prevailed upon you? Intrigued you, perhaps?"
"Why yes, my lord Duke. How could it be otherwise? Your renown is great.',' "My lord King" William corrected gently.
"How may I call you King, my lord, in the presence of my own brother, the rightful King of England? Would that be sisterly?"
"It would be wise!" he said briefly.
"You must forgive my lack of wisdom, my lord — as much else, I fear."
"We shall see what we can forgive you, lady." He emphasised that 'you'- "Since I admire fair women greatly — am but clay, indeed, in their soft hands!" Then abruptly he swung on Malcolm. "But I am less forgiving towards rebels, bond-breakers, robbers and mischief-makers!" he added.
Malcolm was not quick of speech, but he did his best. "Should you come to my realm of Scotland seeking such?" he demanded. "Any rebels you have you would require to seek in Normandy, I think?"
"In Normandy, in England, in Wales, in Ireland, I seek out and punish rebels. As Lord Paramount of Scotland, I have come to do the same here."
"Lord Paramount? What is that, sir? I know of no such title. I am Ard Righ, High King of Scots. And save God Almighty, there is none higher."
"Then you are ignorant. As any child could tell you. Ask your lady, here. Always the Kings of England have been Lords Paramount of Scotland. You know it. Your own great-grandsire, Malcolm the Second, swore fealty and duty to my predecessor, King Canute of England, forty years ago."
"Not so. Malcolm, of honoured memory, made fealty only for lands he held in England, Canute's England. Another usurper. No more than that. Myself, I would be prepared to do the same. As I would expect you to do, sir — if so be it you held any lands in Scotland."
"I can hold all Scotland! You are an obdurate man, wilfully blind. But if you will not accept the assured truth, you must needs accept the hard fact that has brought you here today. I hold your realm in the palm of this my hand. And can do as I will with it."
"As to that, by armed invasion you may presently hold a part of Fortrenn. But this is only a small corner of my kingdom. Near to your ships. You will not find the rest easy to take. Still less to hold."
"You think so? I have forty thousand men into Scotland. I can double that, if need be. How then?"
Even Malcolm Canmore's breath caught at those figures. Never had such numbers of armed men been heard of in Scotland. For the moment he was speechless.
The Count Robert laughed. "Be not so gentle, brother!" he urged. "Teach him the price of rebellion. And the other two, likewise."
"To be sure. Edward Atheling and Cospatrick of Bamburgh. Rebels indeed."
"Can I be rebel? Against myself?" Edgar demanded. "Could you be rebel, in Normandy?"
William ignored him. "That Cospatrick! Turncoat as well as rebel. Betrayor!"
"It is a fool, Highness, who does not know how to change, when he has made a mistake!" the Earl said, shrugging.
"You have made over-many mistakes. And changes! That is folly also. Now is the hour of reckoning. For all of you."
Malcolm had recovered his voice. "What do you want?" he asked. "I have come here to negotiate. Let us do so, and be done."
"Negotiate? What have you got to negotiate? You have come here because I summoned you. To hear my terms. Nothing more."
"You think that - in your overweening pride! Without a blow struck? You may call yourself C
onqueror. But you have not yet conquered Scotland!"
Margaret intervened. "If a mere woman may speak — I say that since you are all men of reason and experience, as well as renown, reason and good sense must prevail. To the best benefit of all. Talk of conquering and blows struck and rebellion will serve only to prolong disagreement. And you have met here to agree something, have you not? Else why meet?"
William actually smiled at that, something that went oddly with his thin lips and traplike mouth. "How wise!" he declared, part-mockingly. "The voice of reason. Let us heed it, indeed — and save much unprofitable talk. I know what I require. And no doubt your husband knows what he has to concede. So let us come to agreement, yes!"
Malcolm's already prominent chin thrust forward. He drew a deep breath. But before he could translate his anger into words, Margaret spoke again.
"Before you commence, my lords, and my weak voice may be lost in greater talking, permit that I say a word, if you will. I pray, my lord William, that you will carry a letter from me to the good father-in-God Lanfranc, Lord Archbishop of Canterbury."
Margaret the Queen Page 25