Without further delay the five parties formed up, with only minor dispute as to who should lead which. Then, in file as yet, they trotted forward behind David, to take best advantage of the available cover, until at length they came to the last of the trees. There, they spread out, the four wedges in line abreast, David placing them. Despite the urge to lead one of the groups himself, he remained with the reserve, in the centre. There appeared to be no change in the situation ahead.
He blew his horn.
The four teams burst from the shelter of the woodland almost simultaneously and spurred swiftly into a full gallop, to thunder across the rough pasture in tight arrowhead formations, the foremost and outer riders swinging drawn swords and maces, the inner men ready to replace them. Seldom can any cavalry wedge have hurled themselves upon an enemy dressed in such unarmoured finery.
It was almost too easy, with the Northumbrians totally unprepared, indeed with most of them clustered around camp-fires eating their evening meal of stolen beef. Six hundred yards are quickly covered by galloping horses, so that they had not time to be given orders or to form up effectively in any defensive posture. Many rushed for their due positions, but as many did not, the sight of sword-wielding horsemen hurtling down upon them sufficiently dissuasive.
All four wedges crashed through that only token line almost without pause or major hindrance, the whin-bushes and rocks, which were to have aided them, tending to offer the greater obstruction. David perceived no need to go to the help of any. The swinging round and dividing process, thereafter, was rather less effectively executed, with some going further than others, and the breaking-up apt to degenerate into a free-for-all. But since the enemy themselves were in chaos, and milling about without any recognisable line anywhere, it could have been that the individual horsemen, slashing and beating, wheeling and caracoling where they would, actually proved to be the best offensive tactic.
David and the reserve rode in on a shambles - but a shambles in which the blood spilled and the disaster was almost all on one side. One or two of the horses were hamstrung or had their bellies dirked open, and a few riders fell or were slashed. But compared with the Northumbrian casualties theirs were negligible.
Those of the invaders who could, began to stream away eastwards, for the township of Rook's Burgh.
David blew his horn again, waving all his people in on himself, to halt the carnage and form up again into troops, for a descent upon the village before there could be any sort of defensive stand made there.
Leaving the ravaged battleground, most of the force—not all, for many of the northern wedge had gone chasing after Northumbrians fleeing towards the Tweedside cliffs — went off at a canter, in some sort of order behind their leaders, over-running many of the refugees on their way to Rook's Burgh.
The township was not very large, although it had doubled in size with the advent of David's castle-builders, an old village, successor to that of the Pictish fort, still mainly contained within the crumbling earthen walls of its one-time stockade. But there was no attempt to man those green ramparts in the face of the pounding horsemen. Only panic prevailed, the fleeing men from the broken line, those camping there already and the frightened local folk, all in cowering turmoil.
Clearly nothing demanded their immediate attention here, David pointed upwards to the castle-site towering above.
To reach it, on its spine of rock, there was only the one route-which was a great part of its strength, of course. They had to go round to the west end of the spine, where it was less steep, and a corkscrewing track led up to the summit. But even here, the natural defences did not cease, for the spine was gapped and cut across by a quite deep cleft, which had to be crossed. David planned to dam this at each end and fill it with water, the moat thus formed to have a drawbridge as the only access. Meantime a fixed timber bridge crossed it, however.
The site could have been defended against them, had the bridge been cast down. But nothing of the sort was attempted. The people up here were not there to fight, only demolish - and the bridge would be the last item to be demolished. They all must have seen much of what transpired on the lower ground, but no plan of action had eventuated. Men watched, stared and waited. Some moved as far away from the advancing horsemen as they could get. Some even continued with their work of destruction as though nothing of what went on had anything to do with them. Some, however, sought to flee by trying to scramble down the steep rocky sides of the spine.
David and his people swept into the castle area - and none there were left in any doubt as to the newcomers' feelings about the demolitions.
While his riders drove the folk out, David and some of his lieutenants climbed to the highest part of what was left of the castle, to peer eastwards. The light was now fading and the more distant prospects towards the Merse were hidden in the gathering dusk. But entirely clear to be seen, something over a mile away down Tweedside, were the gleam of camp-fires amongst woodland.
"More work to do!" David declared. "Come, before they are warned."
So, leaving the castle, they rode down to the Calchou ford, a little way to the north but east of the cliffs, and splashed across.
They headed quietly thereafter down the haughland towards those gleaming flickering fires.
This time they did not trouble to form wedges, but in line abreast, in three waves, they charged down upon the camp area - where most evidently they were not expected, there seeming to be little communication between the various groupings of the invading force. Again it was something of a massacre, with no defence possible or attempted. Bewildered men, eating, lounging or sleeping, were struck down right and left, or herded like sheep to be slaughtered or driven down into the river to drown; until, sickened, David blew his horn to order a halt it all, and to cease from chasing the many fugitives who fled into the shadowy woodland.
A prisoner was brought to him, wounded, a heavy, bulky man of the better sort, wearing a somewhat stained surcoat decorated with a gold cross on blue, the first seeming leader captured alive so far. David looked down at him thoughtfully.
"That device you wear, sir, I have seen before. Who are you? What do you here? And in whose service?" he demanded.
"I am Oslac of Felkington, my lord. Steward at Norham for my lord Bishop of Durham. Have mercy, lord . . ."
"Ha - Durham! Flambard! Dear Lord - Flambard! I had not thought of Flambard of Durham. You are here on the Bishop's orders?"
"Yes. I but obey . . ."
"And the others? These other companies? Who sent them?"
"These are from Hexham, lord. And Warkworth. And Redesmouth. And Corbridge. And the Islands. My lord Bishop's lands and manors. Most, that is. Some are from otherwhere ..."
"So-o-o! This is Flambard's work. Why, man - why"
"Who knows, lord? The great ones do not tell such as myself. We were but told to go and pull down this great new castle a-building here ..."
"My castle. In Scotland. What has your bishop to do with my Rook's Burgh? That his servants should cross into Scotland, to harry and kill?"
"I know not, my good lord. We but obey . ..."
"Fool —if you think that I am fool enough to believe that you know so little! You and your friends have tongues in your heads, have you not? Even if Bishop Flambard told you little, you must have talked of this. If you look for any mercy from me, Master Steward, you will tell me . . ."
"I can make this clerk's get find his tongue, never fear!" Fergus declared. "Give him to me!"
"No, lord — no!" the man cried. "We talked, yes — but know nothing for certain. Some say that the lord Bishop sees this new castle as threat against his manors at Norham and Cornhill. It is built just across from his lands. Some say that he is wrath that moneys have not been paid to him from lands in the Merse, lands which are his. In Coldingham, is it? Some say that since the Scots are in rebellion against Holy Church, they must be shown their error. I do not say that, lord . . ."
"Coldingham, eh?" David glanced over at
Hugo and Hervey. "That old story! I wonder . . . ?"
They rode back to Rook's Burgh, their prisoners herded along behind. It was now almost as dark as a May night ever is in Scotland, and there was no point in any pursuit for further activities. Anyway, all were tired and hungry. So they settled for the night at Rook's Burgh, where at least there was plenty of stolen beef and meal. David was careful to set out sentries. Also to send a party of about one hundred under Fergus, to see how Cospatrick was faring at the Trows area; but these returned in only a short time, with that earl himself, who announced that the enemy there had melted away. Presumably they had received word of the debacle at Rook's Burgh - some of the fugitives may have reached them. Anyway, they had gone, slipped away into the dusk. Cospatrick had sent a few men after them, to keep track of their whereabouts, before himself coming on here, without having struck a blow.
There was some discussion, over meat, as to what should be done now. A few enthusiasts were for setting out in pursuit of the fleeing invaders, darkness notwithstanding. More advised waiting for the morning light. Some even suggested a retaliatory raid into Northumbria- Norham for instance. But David saw all such as profitless. The Northumbrians would not rally now, and were therefore no further threat. What would it serve to kill and wound a few more? Let them trickle, defeated, back to Flambard, their lesson learned. And it was certainly not for King Henry's Viceroy of Cumbria to go raiding into King Henry's earldom of Northumbria. Even if Ivo de Vesci must have known about this venture and had not stopped it, there were better ways of dealing with the matter than by unlawful counter-invasion. Cospatrick's assertion that such limitations did not apply to him, an earl of Scotland whose lands had been invaded, met with no encouragement.
David sent off two of Colbain's men, who knew the land well, even by night, to try to intercept and turn back the Liddesdale and Annandale forces under de Soulis and de Brus, which presumably should be on the move north-eastwards. Then he might sleep.
In the morning he inspected the castle. A grievous amount of damage had been done, the labours of months nullified. However, there was nothing that could not be restored and made good. More men must be employed, that was all, the work speeded up; even one or two improvements to the original-design incorporated.
They sent the Northumbrian prisoners home, on their own, with their wounded but minus their arms and equipment - and of course, booty; they took leave of Cospatrick, who was at last making for Ersildoune; and leaving the quarrymen and masons, the wood-cutters and carpenters, the scaffolders and carvers and the crushers of shells for mortar, all working harder than they had ever worked before, the armed cavalcade turned horses' heads westwards to cross the Forest to Shiel Kirk, finery now somewhat jaded, but feeling on the whole satisfied.
As he rode, David had ample time to think about Flambard. And Ivo de Vesci. And Archbishop Thurstan. And Henry Beauclerc indeed. And, for that matter, his brother Alexander. And to wonder.
16
THE DISADVANTAGE OF being viceroy to two monarchs at the same time was demonstrated the following spring, when David received almost simultaneous summons to attend on both kings, for purposes unspecified. These came at an inconvenient moment, too, for Matilda was expecting their second child within a week or so — she saying that since her child-bearing period was unlikely to last for many more years, they should not delay but have what they could while they could.
David did not really require to debate at any length on his decision as to priorities. He would go to see Alexander first and be back in only four or five days, hopefully, before the birth; and go south when that was safely over. So he sent off the English royal courier to tell Henry at London that he would come on in a few days time, after his wife's delivery— since, with no reason stated, it was to be assumed that there was no great urgency in the summons. He did not add that his first duty must be to his own High King and brother.
With Matilda weary but well, and assuring him that all was in order and that she was not in the least concerned over the birth of her fifth child, he left on his journey northwards, by Annandale and Upper Clydesdale, over the North Lanark moors to Strathkelvin, and so across the Kilsyth Hills to the Upper Forth and Stirling, with only Hugo and Hervey as companions, completing the one hundred and fifty mile ride in two very hard days.
He was irritated, almost resentful, there to learn that Alexander was at Invergowrie again, on the Angus border. This time he could not afford to wait, so they set off again at dawn next morning to ride the further fifty miles across Fothrif and Fife and to ferry over wide Tay at Balmerino. They reached the rath of Invergowrie, at the eastern end of its carse, in the early afternoon - only to find that the King was off on a salmon-spearing expedition to the River Isla^ some dozen miles away. Changing horses once more, and in no very kindly frame of mind, they went on northwards.
They found Alexander, at length, stripped to the waist despite a chill easterly wind, splashing about in only comparative shallows of a stretch of the Isla in the Meigle area. He was wielding a three-pronged leister or salmon-spear, while the fish were driven up to him by a party of wading men who spanned the river below and beat the water, shouting and hallooing, for all the world like any boar or game drive in forest. Two personable young females watched and skirled laughter.
When the King perceived his visitors, he waved his spear, but went on with his energetic sport. David and his friends had never before seen this practised. It looked easy enough, although clearly it was not, for Alexander achieved only two spearings in the fifteen or so minutes that they had to watch, despite the large number of tries and plentiful supply of targets. No doubt the refraction effects of the water, as well as the lightning-swift movement of the salmon accounted for the high proportion of failures; also, of course, the unsteady stance of the would-be spearer on the slippery stones of the stream-bed under two or three feet of rushing river — proved when the King suddenly sat down with a great swash, at one miss, to the vast amusement of the ladies and the monarch's uninhibited cursing. Even when a hit was achieved, success was far from cer-. tain, for a powerful fish weighing many pounds could take a lot of holding, could pull a man over if his feet were not well-planted, or could wriggle itself free even though the spear-point were barbed. All these aspects of the business were amply demonstrated before, the beaters drawing close and the supply of salmon tailing off meantime, Alexander tossed his leister ashore beside some half-a-dozen fine if scarred fish, and clambered out, dripping and grinning, his lean, hard body all rippling muscle.
"Good sport, Davie - but difficult, taxing," he cried. "Are you for trying it? We can find you a fresh beat further upstream."
"Thank you - no. Another time perhaps. I have come far in answer to your summons. Far and fast. At some cost. I did not come to catch fish, Alex!"
"Ha! Do I hear some lack of goodwill in your voice, Brother? Some impatience? Towards your liege lord!"
"It may be that you do, Sire! We looked for you at Stirling. I left Matilda awaiting childbirth, at Caer-luel. And would return to her, at the soonest."
"So that is it. I congratulate you! Instead of being sour, man, you should be rejoiced. I would that my wife was presenting me with a child - so long as it was mine! These would be glad to do so, I think - but that is scarce the same!" And he gestured towards the young women. "Donna and Echilda. Or, it may be, Echilda and Donna!" The King was struggling wet torso into shirt and doublet.
David bowed stiffly towards the giggling females, clearly no ladies. "I rejoice, yes. But would prefer to be at my wife's side, in this. Had you been at Stirling, as your courier said, we could have been returning to Caer-luel by this."
"Lord, Davie-you fuss like some callow youth! Or as though you it was who was to produce the bairn! Your lady will do very well lacking you - better, I swear! Or have you turned midwife, as well as old woman!"
In front of the others, David had to restrain his tongue. "You commanded my presence here for better talk than this, I think, my lord
King?" he said.
"To be sure. But - do you wish to discuss the business of the realm here amongst queans and salmons?"
"The sooner I know your royal wishes, the sooner I may return to my wife's side, Sire."
"Oh, do not be so devilish prickly, man! How should I know of this childbirth? You take all to such damnably serious intent!"
"It is no doubt thanks to my serious intent that you have asked me to come, Alex? You want something that I can do for you, I think? Else I never hear from you!"
"M'mm." His brother frowned. "You are heir to this realm, man — and so must bear your share of the burdens. Be thankful that I do not call on you more often. But, yes - I have a task for you, Davie. I desire you to go to Ralph of Canterbury, for me. I cannot leave Scotland, to go myself. You will mind that I asked that he find me a new Bishop of St. Andrews. He has never done so, but has put off. . ."
"I did not know of this. I know that you sought a new bishop to replace Turgot. And I worked to get John consecrated Bishop of Glasgow, so that he in turn might consecrate a bishop for you. If you have never appointed a new man for him to consecrate, then the fault is yours, surely? You were sufficiently concerned, at the time. I went to much trouble . . ."
"No, no. You did well. For Dunkeld, this of Bishop John was excellent. But St. Andrews is different. Whoever sits there has to be King's Bishop. Ard Episcop. First of bishops. To outdo the Abbot of Iona, of the Columbans. This is necessary if we are to have the Roman Church supreme, as our mother desired. I have taken the Primacy away from Ethelred. The new Bishop of St. Andrews must be Primate, and speak with the voice of full spiritual authority. You must see this? It will not serve that he should be consecrated by a bishop junior to himself. Your John would seem to all to have the greater authority. The realm needs a Primate appointed by myself but sent and consecrated by the highest authority in Holy Church. I sent to Pope Paschal, but he has done nothing. So, since it must not be York, it has to be Canterbury."
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