Margaret the Queen

by Nigel Tranter

  Margaret led them into the chancel to see the high altar, already in position, built of polished pink granite with a slab-top of the most lovely green-veined Iona marble — this, the Queen revealed proudly, a gift from the Abbot of Iona himself. Which was thought-provoking. Then she showed them the underground crypt being excavated beneath the chancel-floor — for this, she declared, was to be the place of royal sepulture hereafter, where, God permitting, she and her husband and their descendants would lie when their due time came.

  "Pray that will be far hence indeed!" Magda said hurriedly.

  Her husband cleared his throat. "To be sure. But . . . sixty Scots, Pictish and Dalar kings lie buried on lona,. Highness. All of the most ancient line in Christendom. Have you forgot?"

  She looked at him, her lovely eyes untroubled. "No, Maldred, I have not forgot," she said. "But there is a time and a tide for all things. For standing still and for moving on. For holding fast and for pointing forward and renewal. I believe that God, in His wisdom, sent that great storm to bring me to this northern land for a purpose. His purpose. In all humility I say it. For myself, I am nothing. Only, I truly believe, the most unworthy and humble instrument of God's purpose here. How else has all fallen out so wonderfully? Perhaps because I bore here the Black Rood, part of Christ's True Cross, to Scotland — who knows? But ... it is a time for going forward, not for standing still, dear Maldred. Do you not see it?"

  He inclined his head, but said nothing.

  Sighing, she turned, to lead the way out.

  The Queen conducted them then to a small chamber of the abbey itself, with Abbot Ivo in attendance now. And here, the door unlocked, they were all but dazzled, ill-lit as the place was. The room was, in fact, a treasure-house, full of gleaming gold and silver and jewels, of magnificent coloured vestments, of rich tapestries and hangings, of priceless church plenishings. In pride of place was the splendid crucifix Maldred had brought from Archbishop Eldred.

  "To furnish the church when it shall be finished," Margaret said, the sight of it all beginning to recover her enthusiasm. "Will it not be glorious? See — these Gospel-books. These I had in my cave — you remember, Maldred?" She produced a quick, almost conspiratorial little smile. "Malcolm had them covered in gold for me. Is he not good?"

  "Very kind, yes." Maldred took one of the four beautifully-illuminated if well-thumbed manuscript books, now encased within boards plated with hammered gold and set with rubies and pearls. "Handsome. Costly. Your lady-mother would approve."

  Closely she looked at him in that dim light. "Why do you say that?" she demanded.

  "I but remember the day, at the Ward of the Stormounth. The day Magda was lost on the Muir of Gormack. When I handed over to you the treasure. From Archbishop Eldred. The Princess Agatha said that you must keep that crucifix. And other things of great worth. Too good, she said, to sell for the poor and your slaves. And you said no, Christ did not require gold and jewels to be held back for Him. But the poor, for whom He gave His life, did. Or words of that sort. I see that you have come round to the way your mother thought."

  "No. It is not that, Maldred — why do you ever misjudge what I seek to do? Have me in the wrong? Much I give to the poor. Always they are in my heart and prayers. But God's house must be furnished. Surely of the best that we can give?"

  "Must it? Because you build this great church, Highness — must God dwell in it? Does He require men to build Him His house? And fill it with their treasures? These may not be His treasures ..."

  "Hush, Maldred!" Magda exclaimed. "This is no way to speak. And to the Queen."

  "No — let him speak," Margaret said. "I must hear him, at least. I must never turn my friends away unheard. Or even my enemies. Say on."

  "I am no churchman, Highness. But I have heard my father talk. And others. Abbot Ivo, here, would be the better man to speak. But — is this not one of the great gulfs between your Romish and our Columban Churches? You seek for God oftenest in a building. A building made by man. We do not. We seek everywhere that he made — out in His world, under His heaven, in the open, in woods and trees and springs. On hilltops where the ancients worshipped. Are you and yours not in danger of worshipping your great buildings, and the gold and silver within them, instead of the God-Child born in a stable?"

  There was silence in that treasure-store for a moment or two, Magda and Abbot Ivo in major discomfort, the other two staring at each other.

  "Oh, you are wrong, Maldred, wrong!" the Queen said, at length. "Worship God out in the open, yes — in the woods and hills. When you remember to do so! But surely men should offer to God, in worship, what is precious to them, the finest work of their hands and skills. God gave them these skills, to develop and use in His service. Gold and treasure men seek after — so should they not offer of it to God? Worship should cost something, surely? This church we build will stand for untold generations, a witness that we worshipped God, a thing of beauty and peace."

  "Could you not say that of the simplest stone-circle up on the moor? Which may last the longer, who knows?"

  "These were set up by pagans, to worship the sun. Only that."

  "But still for worship. The best they knew. Until Christ's Gospel was brought to them. By simple Columban missionaries, preaching in their stone-circles. By brave words only — no gold-and-jewelled books." Maldred stopped, and shook his head. "I am sorry," he muttered. "I should not have said so much. I know that you are good, better than any of us. And I am not. I should not speak so. But... I think that you are mistaken, in some of the things that you do. Here in Scotland. In especial, this of seeking to turn our native Church to Rome."

  "But I do not, Maldred. Only to bring it into harmony with Rome. And with the rest of Christendom. That surely is not mistaken?"

  "This great church you build is to be a Romish one?"

  "Yes. But it is only one."

  "What of St. Andrews? From what Turgot says, you would turn that into a Roman bishopric. As example for others."

  "No. You do not understand. I only seek to improve, to help, to encourage . . ." It was her turn to stop and sigh. "I will never convince you, Maldred, I know — you, who I would wish above others to understand. I am sorry, also." She turned, and moved outside. "Abbot Ivo, I think, even Abbot Dunchad of Iona, do not think so ill of me as you do, Maldred."

  "I do not think ill of you, Highness — God knows I do not! Only that in this matter you could be mistaken."

  They left it at that. And thankfully Abbot Ivo, non-controversialist, made his escape.

  On their way back to the palace, Magda chattering somewhat fervently for her, the Queen presently interrupted.

  "You spoke of Turgot, Maldred. Do you know how it goes with him? Where he is now. Since, since . . ."

  It had come eventually to King Malcolm's ears that the monk Turgot, whom he had expelled, had in fact gone no further than Melross in the mouth of Lauderdale, and there, with Prior Aldwin, started this new monastery. Whatever his lack of concern about the Romanisation of his realm's Church, the King was sufficiently displeased — and jealous, presumably — to send command for Turgot to be gone, right out of Scotland. Malcolm had had enough of Turgot. Because Melross was in fact Cospatrick's monastery, and that man, in the guise of Brother Eadwulf, was proving to be a very useful tool and source of information, the King had had to dress up his expulsion order in less bald style. He declared that the incumbents of any religious establishment, as of any other in Scotland, must take oath of allegiance to himself, as monarch — or else go. Turgot, a member of the Durham community, could scarcely do that: Aldwin the more so, as Prior. So they had both had to leave the country, a few months ago. The monastery at Melross was consequently reduced to only eight or nine serving-brothers of Scots extraction, under the supervision of the Prior at Ubbanford, across Tweed. It was still, of course, sufficient for Cospatrick's purposes, as excuse and screen.

  "He is gone to Bishop Wearmouth, Highness. Near where we first all met. Bishop Walchere has withd
rawn him there, with Prior Aldwin. They are to build up that monastery. It has been run from Jarrow, it seems, and had fallen into decline. They are there now ..."

  "Wearmouth! That unhappy place! Although, perhaps I should not say that, since God sent me there, to meet Malcolm. And so brought me to Scotland. Poor Turgot. Malcolm bears hardly on him. Is he . . . bitter?"

  "I think not. He is a very shrewd and careful cleric, that one."

  "He is a good man. A, a stout pillar of God's house!" Her smile was brief. "I grieve that Malcolm distrusts him.

  The Queen recognised the situation, and referred no more to it.

  Outside the palace a commotion was in progress, evidently marking the return of Prince Edgar from a hawking party on the tidelands of Forth. Margaret revealed no enthusiasm for conversation with her brother, and did not press Magda and Maldred to stay when they made prompt suggestions that they should be on their way to Bothargask — which, with little Marsala to consider, had to be journeyed to in shorter stages. They would rest for the night at the St. Serfs hospice on the shore of Loch Leven. Neither had any desire to renew their acquaintance with the rightful King of England.

  As, presently, they rode away from Dunfermline, Magda berated her husband. "That was unkindly done," she accused. "You much hurt Margaret. Since when have you become so strong a churchman? I never noted it previously. You were unkind, and scarcely wise, I think. Since she is the Queen."

  "Perhaps," he admitted — for he was himself somewhat troubled. "I would not wish to hurt her, or to be unkind. Wisdom does not come into it. But — what I said had to be said. By someone."

  "If so, I do not see why it should have to be you. There is a sufficiency of your Columban clerics to say it, is there not? If it is so important."

  "But they are not saying it! They are tied in their tongues. Because she is Queen. And is so good. So kind. And buys their sufferance with her generosity and gifts. This restoring of the harried Abbey of Iona. And the like. Lands for Loch Leven. Indeed, I think that they do not perceive the danger. To their Church and traditions. Aye, and to the realm itself."

  "And you do! Whose concern it is not. If your precious Church is in so much danger from the doings and kindnesses of one woman, then I hardly think that it is worth all the trouble!"

  "When the one woman is the Queen, strong of mind and determined, with the King caring nothing either way but doting on her — and no body of churchmen united to combat her — then the danger is real. This is, as I see it now, one of the weaknesses of our Church. It is not as your Romish one, with a strong authority at the head. It is not concerned with any hierarchy. It is the Church of the people. So there is no body at the centre to fight its cause. It has never had to fight such assault before. This is not its purpose. Those who should be taking the lead do not, it seems. My father, the Primate, is no fighter, a gentle man lost in his books. Abbot Dunchad of Iona is strong, but he is so tied up with the rebuilding of his ruined abbey

  — and so grateful to the Queen — that his hands are bound. And the King's Bishop, Fothad, is also bound. His St. Andrews she is putting in her great debt. And he rises in influence. I tell you, she is clever, far-sighted, as Cospatrick says..."

  "Cospatrick! There it is, I think. It is that Cospatrick who has put you up to this, Maldred. He is a snake, that man! Oh yes, diverting and excellent company. But cunning as he is devious. And a despoiler at heart. He has too much ascendancy over you, Maldred. I have felt this for long."

  "That is foolishness, girl!" he exclaimed. "You do not know what you say. Of course I see much of him. And heed him in many things. It could not be otherwise, since I am administering his earldoms for him. And he is as clever as she is, and sees things very clearly. But — I remain my own man. What I said came from myself, not Cospatrick. And, I tell you, had to be said. By someone." His chin outthrust, subconsciously he was urging his horse to greater speed, so that he drew ahead a little.

  She did not attempt to keep up with him.

  After a little, he threw back over his shoulder, "I shall go speak with my father. Before we return to Dunbar. Warn him. Urge him to act."

  She shrugged. "And to think that I once feared that you were too fond of Margaret Atheling!"

  He looked back, frowning. "I am fond of her," he said. "I esteem her greatly. She is, she is good as she is beautiful. That, God's mercy, is a large part of the trouble!"

  They rode on in silence.

  17

  MALDRED ARRIVED BACK at Dunbar Castle on an evening in the following early summer to find that they had a most unexpected visitor, none other than the Queen herself. She had arrived unheralded, alone save for a small escort, having crossed the Scottish Sea by the Earl of Fife's ferry to North Berwick on the Lothian shore. Malcolm, it seemed, was off on a visit to Dalar, to old Gilliadamnan, Lord of Argyll, where, at Dunstaffnage, he was holding a conference of West Highland chiefs, in an attempt to present a more unified front against the incursions of miscellaneous raiders who terrorised the entire Hebridean seaboard, Norse, Orkneymen, Manx and Irish, and simple pirates. It had not been considered a suitable occasion for his wife to be introduced to those barbarian parts of his realm; so she had felt free to make this more modest journey on her own. She wished to visit her friend and former confessor, Turgot of Durham — and of course to give herself the pleasure of seeing Magda, Maldred and her infant god-daughter Marsala, once more.

  Margaret seemed in excellent spirits, pregnant again but only by three months and not yet showing it. At Dunbar she could put off almost entirely the trappings and attitudes of royalty, and clearly rejoiced so to do. Girlish laughter, even giggles and baby-talk, enlivened that rather grim stronghold, with Maldred acting the fond, indulgent and slightly superior male.

  The Queen had a problem, however. While she wanted to see Turgot, she did not wish to see Cospatrick. She had always been very doubtful about that man and his methods; and this present elaborate deceit as to his supposed death went much against her principles. To countenance the fraud by personally meeting the Earl and then prejudicing her conscience by pretending that she did not know that he still lived, she would find distressing. Maldred was able to assure her that Cospatrick had gone to Caer-luel. But it was a long way to Wear-mouth . . .

  Margaret was determined, however, and indeed seemed to look upon the whole episode as something of a holiday. Magda announced that she was going to come too. It would be only some one hundred and forty miles, less than three days' journey and over level coastal country. So next morning the three of them, with a small escort, rode southwards to Berwick-on-Tweed and then on through the Northumbrian coastlands, past Lindisfarne and Bamburgh, to Alnwick, a long day's ride but pleasant enough, in fine weather. The following day they did even better, fording the shallows of Coquet and Lyne and Wansbeck and Blyth, and a host of lesser streams, on their way to the Tyne. They were at the Wear by the next noon-day, tired but well-pleased with their progress.

  To say that Turgot, and his superior Aldwin, were glad to see the Queen, however surprised, would be a major understatement. Aldwin was the more effusive, but Turgot's satisfaction was sufficiently manifest. This royal condescension and effort was flattering; but there was more to it than that, a personal and mutual admiration and a meeting of minds — Rome-oriented minds, to be sure. Maldred found himself out-on-a-limb, Magda too, to some extent, for she was a deal less religiously-inclined than was her mistress and friend.

  Nevertheless they both remained at the Queen's side, after they had been shown round the establishment, situated at the farther side of the river-mouth from where they had all first met those years before. It was a somewhat decayed monastery now, but the two monks had plans for its improvement, and the visitors had all explained to them. Maldred was more interested to know just what had brought Margaret all this way — surely more than just a desire to see her former confessor?

  In the refectory, regaled with simple fare suitable to the Cluniac ascetic reforms which these two Benedi
ctines supported, the Queen unburdened herself.

  "You travel the land at times, I believe, my friends? To your parent-house, at Durham. Even to York? And still further afield?" It was really Turgot whom she addressed. "When you do so hereafter, or go elsewhere in the English North, I would be much in your debt if you would do me a service — a service to God's cause also, surely. I require much church furniture and plenishing which I cannot find in Scotland. Much ornament, decoration, holy vessels, missals, books, pictures. Of such necessary aids to true worship there is a great dearth here. I desire you, of your goodness, to find these for me. For the furtherance of Christ's good purpose. Will you do this, my friends?"

  "To be sure, Highness. How noble, how godly a quest!" Prior Aldwin enthused. "It shall be our joy."

  "I hope that it may prove so. But you may find it something of a weariness, too. For I need much. I have set my hand to great labours. Although I shall not call them that, since they are my joy also. At Dunfermline and St. Andrews both the work proceeds. Of beautifying God's houses, of bringing the people into more fulfilling worship, in setting up shrines for pilgrimage, in strengthening the hands of the clergy who will work for the fuller witness for Christ in His One Church, Holy, Catholic and Apostolic."

  "Most excellent, Highness! God reward you — most admirable. It shall be done."