So his mixed company marched south-eastwards, skirting the high ground, towards the Solway shore with all its deep indentations and shallow tidal bays. It was difficult country, with much marshland, mud and scrub forest, and practically empty, with everywhere signs of Norse raiding from the sea. The various sections of the force, Normans, Cumbrians and Borderers, kept well separate, and camped those two nights almost a mile apart. There were no occupied villages or townships to tempt looters and ravishers. David was learning the lessons of command; strategy was not all.
They glimpsed the Manx fleet on the evening of the second day, as the grey November dusk was falling - or at least an assembly of about forty longships and birlinns heading north by east, perhaps three miles offshore. No identifications were possible, at that range and light; but the vessels seemed to be in no hurry, and were probably the Manxmen.
That evening later, when they were camped on the blunt peninsula of Dundrennan, between Auchencairn and St. Cuthbert's Bay, the first messenger arrived from Fergus -although David had sent three northwards. He informed cheerfully that all was going well with the Carrick-Strathnith array. Indeed very well, for they had had two skirmishes with the enemy and beaten them soundly both times. In token whereof the Lord Fergus sent his old friend a golden Norse-type bracelet, of snakes eating each other's tails—still encrusted with blood where it had been hacked off the victim's forearm -indicative of the quality of the defeated. They were making excellent progress, likewise, and were considerably further ahead than anticipated - which, of course, was not the objective either. David fretted somewhat.
Next forenoon the southern force had their first sighting of the enemy, a small mounted party, which made off westwards at speed when they saw how large a host there was. The Norman cavalry, spoiling for action, would have given chase, but David said no. They wanted the news of their presence to reach Hakon Claw. Why interfere with his couriers?
Presently from another and lesser headland they saw the fleet of ships rowing up and down at the mouth of St. Cuthbert's Bay. It seemed that all was going according to plan.
St Cuthbert's Bay runs inland for about seven miles, to merge into the estuary of the Dee. David's force now turned inland, well back from the salt water. They were about halfway towards Kirk Cuthbert's Town, still with no appearance of the Orkneymen, other than an occasional watching mounted figure, when David realised that all was not, in fact, going according to plan. There was a chill north-easterly breeze, and on it, distant but clear, was borne the sounds of battle, large-scale clash.
It could only be Fergus and Dunegal arrived too soon and engaging or being engaged by Hakon Claw on their own, which was folly. A pitched battle was what David sought to avoid. One of the guides Fergus had lent him declared that the fighting sounded as though it must be coming from the Dunrod area, the valley of the Dunrod Burn, some three miles away. David considered sending a swift mounted party to go and bring him word of the situation, then decided to save time by going himself. Leaving the Earl Cospatrick in command, with orders to bring on the force at best speed, he rode off with a few companions.
It was good to be riding fast and free after days of footmen's-pace dawdling, however dire the emergency. Over a series of low grassy ridges, with scrub and bog in the intervening shallow hollows, they went, the noise of conflict growing ever louder and more sustained, the ring and clash of steel and the shouts and yells and screams of men, a human storm which was almost the more tangible for being unseen.
Presently they topped a higher ridge to overlook a wider, truer valley beyond, with more major hills rising behind - these having acted as back-cloth to project the sounds of the battle southwards. From the ridge, all was apparent. The valley-floor was an indescribable chaos of struggling, bawling, groaning men in their thousands, and flashing, flailing steel. There was no recognisable front line, only two noticeably denser, more concentrated groupings in the midst, a fair way apart, undoubtedly the respective leadership parties. There were no standards or banners, no command-posts, no vanguards or rearguards, only countless individual hand-to-hand conflicts, of large groups and small, men battling it out without regard to any other tactics than skill with weapons, brute strength, untiring muscles and sheer blood-lust - and courage.
"A rabble!" Hugo de Morville exclaimed disgustedly. "A barbarous melee, no more!" Such elemental battering ran counter to all Norman notions of warfare.
"How can they even tell who is winning?" Hervey demanded. "Until a sufficient number of one side flees? Or until only a few are left alive and heads counted?"
David was not concerned with that aspect of the battle so much as that the leadership could not be picked out nor reached. "A plague on Fergus!" he muttered. "I want to talk with Hakon Claw. How can I, in this broil? He will not so much as perceive us!"
"If we rode down? Even so few of us. A charge. We might do something. Hearten Fergus," Hugo suggested. "At least make our presence known to Hakon Claw."
"No. We would but be lost in the strife. This nine of us would make no difference. We would be fighting for our lives. Never win near to Hakon. And Fergus needs no heartening, I vow!"
"What can we do then?"
"We can only wait. And hope that Cospatrick comes up quickly. Our host drawn up here would surely give even Hakon Claw pause." David sent a young knight back to hasten on the following force, if that was possible.
To sit their horses on the ridge and watch that bloody strife was an extraordinary experience, frustrating as it was exciting for spirited young men, with every instinct urging them to take part, to move forcefully to the aid of their friends. It was galling, too, not to be able to tell, as Hervey predicted, even which side was in the ascendant. The ebb and flow of the struggle was no more consistent or informative, seen from up here, than the swirlings in a cauldron. All that could be seen was that while the Orkneymen were constantly being reinforced from the west, from the Kirk Cuthbert's Town direction, although not in any large numbers, the attacking host was not, Fergus evidently having thrown in his full strength from the first. Not that there was any impression given of him being forced back or overwhelmed.
The waiting seemed endless, although it cannot have been much more than half-an-hour before their own army hove in sight, for they had left it only three miles back. But at last something might be achieved, and hopefully, not too late, with the battle appearing to be no more certainly decided than when first they viewed it, however many men had died meantime.
David and his companions spurred back to their force, to shout orders. The entire host was to form up along this ridge, by troops and companies and squadrons, spread out lengthwise to give the appearance of greater numbers still. All Norman cavalry to ride back and forth before the ranks with banners. That, and great sustained shouting. And a large white flag, brought for the purpose, to be unwrapped and hoisted in the centre, above all.
This maneouvre proceeding, it was difficult at first to assess the effect on the struggling masses below. However preoccupied with their grim activities, even the most dedicated fighters must glance up sometimes, surely? Especially the leaders. And the rhythmic shouting from thousands of fresh throats must surely penetrate the hubbub?
"If Fergus would but draw back a little, disengage . . ."
"How can he?"
"Fling our whole array down upon them, Davie. Sweep all of the field, friend and foe alike!" Hervey urged. "Our fresh forces will finish off this unseemly affray."
"No, I say! That is not the way. I want Hakon Claw face to face. Talking. Not half-beaten, and escaping back to his ships. Where we cannot follow. All to be done again . . ."
At length there was some change visible, some indication that the newcomers had been noticed and their presence having some effect. The fighting went on, but some vigour appeared to go out of it, especially around the leadership groupings.
"The Orkneymen have seen the light at last!" Cospatrick said. "What will Hakon Claw do now?"
"He cannot fail t
o see this white flag. Let us take it nearer to him, so that he can have no doubts. Hugo - ride round and down. Try to get Fergus to halt his fighting . . ."
David and most of his notables rode some way on down the slope, under the flag-of-truce, leaving the army drawn up on the ridge. Halting some six hundred yards from the edge of the fighting, David ordered his trumpeter to blow a prolonged summons.
Strangely, it seemed as though that trumpet had a real effect on the combatants. Possibly it was Fergus whom it affected most, forcibly reminding him of the agreed strategy. There was a recognisable further slackening of the fighting, which spread over the entire field.
David ordered another and still more peremptory blast. They moved still closer to the arena.
At last the desired result was produced. Out of much stir and commotion amongst the throng to the west, now seen to be a mixture of Orkneymen and Galwegians, notably different in their garb, a group began to push through from the centre, in the direction of the waiting party under the white flag. As these drew nearer, through the seething, panting, bleeding press, they were clearly all Vikings save for two, big men with long shaggy fair hair and beards, wearing winged and bulls'-horned helmets, leather tunics with metal scales as armour, and thong-tied breeches. Some were bleeding and battered, but all looked arrogantly assured. Different were the pair of local chiefs with them, darker, slighter, more wiry, in saffron kilts and sleeveless calf-skin jerkins, seeming a deal less confident. The central figure was a young giant of a man with hot blue eyes, no beard but with thin, down-turning moustaches, both forearms almost half-hidden under golden snake-bracelets. He had a slashed cheek, but grinned as he came.
"Earl Hakon Hakonsson?" David called, as they drew near. "I am your kinsman, David mac Malcolm of Scotland, Earl of Cumbria. Greetings!" The relationship was very distant; their great-great-grandmothers had been sisters.
"David? Henry's hound dog!" the other shouted back. "What seek you in my Galloway? With such host? If it is robbers and rogues you seek, there they are to your hand!" And he pointed towards Fergus's people.
"Not your Galloway, friend. My brother Alexander's Galloway. And the Lord Fergus, there, is its new governor."
"Who says so, to Hakon Claw of Orkney?"
"I say so, cousin. And I speak for King Alexander and King Henry both. No Orkneyman, under Norway, may any more rule in Galloway, Strathclyde or Cumbria."
"Large words for so puny a man! But only words, David mac Malcolm!"
"I prefer words - and they can be sharper than swords, see you. But - I have swords also."
"I care not for your swords any more than for your words, man! Here I rule. Here I stay."
"We shall see. I fear that I have credited you with more nimble wits than you possess, friend. The Lord Fergus said as much. But I believed otherwise." David shrugged. He turned towards his companions. "Here is the Earl Cospatrick of Dunbar. And his brother the Earl Dolfin, whom you know. And this is the Viscount d'Avranches. And Hervey de Warenne, son to the Earl of Surrey. And others equally illustrious. King Olaf of Man could not be with us, but he has sent his fleet. It lies off your bay of St. Cuthbert - as perhaps has been reported to you?"
The other said nothing.
"These friends of yours," David gestured towards the two native chiefs. "They will no longer be able to support you. Now that you are no more governor here. They are subjects of the King of Scots and must needs support his representative. You agree, my friends?"
When neither of the pair answered him, however uneasy they looked, he changed his tone of voice suddenly, dramatically.
"Names?" he all but snapped.
"Colin of Dunrod, my lord," the cider said quickly. "Murdoch of Borguc."
"And some of these men fighting are yours'?" They nodded.
"Then withdraw them. Withdraw them all. Now. Under pain of treason."
It was the moment of truth, of decision. The chieftains eyed each other, looked at Hakon Claw and then back to David.
Fergus helped by choosing this moment to come striding over, limping, looking grim, Hugo with him.
"Do you know these two, my lord?" David called, to him. "Dunrod and Borgue?"
"I know them. And will know them better before I am done! Turncoats! Traitors!"
"No! No!" They cried that, as one.
"So long as the Earl Hakon was governor . . ." Dunrod pointed out, urgently.
"What else could we do?" the younger man asked, almost pleaded.
"Snivelling curs!" Hakon Claw roared. "White livered rats!"
"Not so, my lord Earl, but loyal subjects of my brother the King," David observed mildly. "Or will be hereafter, pray God!"
"Yes, yes, my good lord Prince . . ."
The die was cast, and all knew it, decision crystallised — and on the face of it decision made by the least important, least influential there. The Orkneymen could not prevail now, could not stand out in the face of the overwhelming forces David had marshalled against them. It only remained to seek to make capitulation easier for Hakon Claw to swallow, make the draught more tolerable before all, Viking pride acknowledged.
"My royal brother and good-brother will no doubt consider some suitable compensation in view of your. . . retirement, my lord Hakon," David said. "I shall so advise when I report your excellent acceptance of the change of governorship. Some recompence for loss sustained."
Fergus snorted and Hakon Claw glowered. But no other comment was made.
"No doubt you will wish to retire to your own Orkney Isles? How soon can you leave?"
"Leave ...?".
"Leave Galloway, yes. We do not wish for trouble between your people and mine. Or the Lord Fergus's. Nor yet the folk of Kirk Cuthbert's Town. Nor the Manxmen. It would be unfortunate if there was any paying off of old scores. As might well be. Do you not agree? With so large a combined host as I command, I cannot promise to protect you and your ships from attack. From those who might esteem themselves as having debts to settle! Your raidings here, in Cumbria, in Man, even over in Ireland, have made you many unfriends, I fear. The sooner your longships are at sea, the better, I think."
"I am not afraid of your rabble, Earl David."
"Perhaps not. But I am. Knowing their temper. The Manx fleet will not enter St. Cuthbert's Bay until I signal them. I can order them to let your ships through, unharmed. Today. But if they were to come ashore tonight."
"I have a strong fort at Kirk Cuthbert's Town."
"You cannot take your ships into your fort, my lord. You will not wish them to be burned? Or sunk?"
Hakon Claw looked away. "So be it," he said, at last.
"Tonight, then."
"Tonight."
"The weather is none so ill. For your voyage."
"I care not for weather. Any more than for your threats."
"To be sure. All know of the Vikings' powers at sea . . ."
So it was accepted. The Orkneymen and Fergus's people began their disengagement - not without some further scuffling — and withdrew their dead and wounded. The leaders returned to their own hosts. David sat waiting, up on the ridge, until Hakon Claw led his Vikings back to the town and haven. The local forces who had started the day with them seemed to melt away.
Fergus came back, after seeing to his own folk. "You have a tongue in you, Davie," he said. "You had that Orkneyman roped and tied. After I had hobbled him for you!"
"Had you left it to my talking he would still have gone, I think. And you would have saved the lives of many men, Fergus. How many have you lost?"
"No great number. No. more than I can afford. Someone has to do the fighting, see you."
"That I question. I say show your strength. Be prepared to fight - but only if you must. Sharp wits will often serve better than sharp steel!"
"Are these men's words? Or women's?"
"Does it matter? So long as you gain your ends. And at less cost. I care not which. But, indeed, they were a woman's words to me. My mother's. Her wits won more victories for my fath
er than ever did his over-ready sword! She taught me much."
Fergus inclined his dark head. "I cannot dispute with Margaret the Queen!" he acceded.
8
DAVID APPROACHED DUNBAR CASTLE, in Lothian, somewhat doubtfully, uncertain of his reception. Not from Cospatrick, of course - he would make him welcome enough. It was Alexander's attitude which could be in doubt, this summons a questionable joy. Cospatrick had sent a messenger to Caer-luel merely saying that King Alexander desired his brother's attendance at Dunbar on Scarce Thursday. No details, no indications or warnings.
David recognised only too well that he had taken chances in his move against Hakon Claw in November, used Alexander's name and authority without proper permission, acted in what his brother might construe as a high-handed fashion. The fact that the thing had needed to be done, and that Alexander himself was doing nothing about it, did not mean that the venture, however successful in the event, might not be frowned upon by the King of Scots. Especially when he might feel that his young brother was indeed seeking to exercise the functions of Prince of Strathclyde, as bequeathed to him by the late Edgar against Alexander's wishes.
But when they came to meet, in the curious sea-girt stronghold on its rocks-top site, Alexander revealed no trace of resentment nor displeasure. He was not an affectionate man by nature, nor demonstrative in any way save when angered. But he seemed to be in good enough spirits this fine April evening, although David thought, looking a deal older than when they had last seen each other four years before, at the wedding. Perhaps marriage did not agree with him.
"So, brother, it is good to see you," the King said, proffering a quick self-conscious embrace. "Man, you look well. Being Henry's watch-dog in the North suits you, it seems."
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