There was, however, no hint of any organised rising in England in favour of the Empress.
Then, after Eastertide, Henry came home. In the end, he had had to leave Stephen's Court in a hurry. There had been some hostility against him from the start, amongst Stephen's modey collection of supporters and hangers-on, although the King
himself had seemed to want his guest to stay, just why was not clear. Then, at a feast in the Tower of London on Easter Day, after a special thanksgiving service at Westminster, Stephen had seated Henry in the place of honour at his right hand, above the Archbishop of Canterbury, likewise above his own cousin, the Earl of Chester, the principal noble supporting him. As well as embarrassing Henry, this had infuriated many, and a violent scene had erupted. Henry had been personally assaulted and his Scots party insulted. Stephen had cowered before it all, and then left the hall. The Prince and his friends had departed for home the next day.
David was annoyed, of course - but really more concerned with the news on the wider front which Henry brought back. Geoffrey Plantagenet, the Empress's husband, had agreed to a two-year truce over the contested succession, for a pension of five thousand marks - presumably with Maud's assent. This appeared to make nonsense of her claims and hopes of the throne. Louis of France had accepted Stephen as King of England and was proposing to betroth his daughter to Eustace, Stephen's child son. Most of the Normandy nobles had come over to Stephen's side, and he had put his elder brother, Theobald Count of Blois, at their head meantime, also with a pension, with instructions to put that dukedom in a fit state to receive him, for he would be coming there just as soon as he could safely leave England, to install the boy Eustace as Duke of Normandy. Robert of Gloucester, like most other of Maud's former supporters, had made the best bargain he could for himself, on condition that his rights and privileges were maintained.
So Maud's cause appeared to be in the dust, possibly deservedly so; although it was a sorry business that the winner should be so poor a character. Sorry also that money, lands, pensions, seemed to be what mattered in England and France these days, not right, honour and good faith.
There was the other side to it all, however. The earls and barons had exacted a great price for their change of allegiance. The late Henry Beauclerc's reforms were largely lost, and every Norman baron was now almost his own master, many going so far as to coin their own silver. Lawlessness and rapine grew daily in England, unchecked.
David foresaw a reckoning, but perceived little that he could do meantime. He wrote to Stephen requesting swift fulfillment of his commitment to withdraw de Vesci and de Meschin and their forces from Northumbria and Cumbria.
In Scotland, by comparison, there was peace and order. The new system of administration had scarcely begun to work, but the effects of firm government, justice and concern for the people's welfare were notable. There were failures, mistakes, misdeeds and refusals, of course. Malcontents and wrongdoers did not turn into saints, greed and reaction often countered the King's policies. But by and large his reforms went ahead, and his rule was never seriously challenged. David founded a new Cistercian abbey at Melross, a couple of miles up Tweed from the Old Melross one-time Celtic monastery. He endowed and started to build a cathedral church at Glasgow for Bishop John, to be dedicated to St. Kentigern or Mungo, the original founder of the diocese. And, enheartened by the progress now being made in Galloway in conjunction with Fergus, at the Priory of Kirk Cuthbert's Town, now being called St. Mary's Isle, he encouraged his lords and friends to go and do likewise, where they could, offering royal aid and co-operation. This was not only in the interests of piety, of course, but for the furtherance of his governmental system. One of the first to take him up on this was his old friend Hugo, now Lord of Lauderdale, with great lands on the fringes of the earldom of Dunbar and March, as well as elsewhere. Hugo endowed an abbey at Dryburgh on the Tweed, between Melross and Kelshaugh, although much of the initial funds and impetus came from the King. Hervey de Warenne, Knight Marischal, now married to a Celtic heiress, was not yet persuaded to turn abbey-builder; but he did endow a little church at Keith Marischal on the edge of Lammermuir, where he and his heirs might conveniently be buried; and there he set up a parish system. As did others.
All this heartening development was possible, of course, partly because of the moneys still flowing north from the well-managed Honour of Huntingdon, under Sheriff Gilbert; but even more so because for once there were no external threats to Scotland. England was in no state to threaten; there was still civil strife in Norway; and the turbulent Viking earls and kinglets of Iceland, Orkney, the Hebrides and Ireland were involved in internecine struggles of their own, whilst their Norse overlords fought each other. Some of David's advisers, the Celtic ones in especial, urged him to seize the opportunity to wrest back the Hebrides from the slackened Norse grip. But he refused, saying that the Northumbrian and Cumbrian provinces were of far more value to Scotland than the western isles, and, although they were his in name now, they might well have to fight for them yet.
Henry mac David, Prince of Strathclyde, Earl of Huntingdon and titular Earl of Northumbria and Cumbria, came of age the following year, 1137, and great were the celebrations at Rook's Burgh. As an extension of this, David decided upon another of his gestures. He had done little or nothing about actually taking over the two English provinces, waiting for their governors de Vesci and de Meschin to be withdrawn. Neither had been, over a year later. He was reluctant to move in, in armed force again. It might well come to that, but first he would try more peaceful penetration. They would make a progress into Cumbria - or at least Henry would, as Earl thereof, and he would accompany his son - and they would establish a new abbey there as symbol of the new situation and notification to all concerned. One of the few links David had retained with Cumbria was with his own nephew William, Lord of Allerdale. This was a quiet young man known as William fitz Duncan or William the Nobleman, son of David's half-brother Duncan the Second, who had been assassinated after reigning for only six months. His mother had been Ethelreda, Cospatrick the cider's daughter, and Cospatrick's Allerdale lands in upland Cumbria had been given to him. By marriage he had acquired the manor of Holm Cultram on the Solway coast west of Caer-luel; and this he was prepared to exchange with his uncle for lands on the lower Tweed. There they would build their abbey, looking across Solway towards Scotland.
So, with a great train of nobles and clerics, including Bishop John and Abbot Alwin of Holyrood, with mounted musicians and singers and only a comparatively small armed escort, father and son set out for Cumbria.
There was, of course, much interest to see what happened when they came to Cacr-luel. But Randolph de Meschin chose discretion - he had had ample time for warning of their approach - and absented himself, leaving only underlings who remained passive, if wary. But Bishop Athelwulf was there. David and Henry, with Bishop John and the Lord William, called upon him. He was sufficiently wary too, naturally, but concerned not to offend if he could help it.
David for his part was placatory. "We seek your help, my lord Bishop," he said. "As you will know, my son is now Earl of Cumbria, this great province his, by agreement of Stephen of Boulogne. He seeks to celebrate this advancement with thanks to God and some act of piety and advantage to all Cumbria. The lands of Holm Cultram are now his, and he proposes, with my aid, to found an abbey there, to the glory of God and the furtherance of Christ's cause in these parts."
The Bishop looked the more alarmed at these good tidings, rather than delighted. He swallowed but ventured no comment.
"It will be a large and noble establishment," David went on pleasantly. "I have now built many abbeys, and learned much. We shall, to be sure, need your help. It is in your diocese and will come under your good guidance. It would be suitable, therefore, if you would duly consecrate its foundation."
Athelwulf, a decent Saxon, looked flustered. "But, but. . ." he began. "This is a matter... for much thought, Sire. I do not know ... I would have to consider.
Many things . . ."
"So you do not wish to see an abbey established in your diocese, my lord Bishop? There is none in all North Cumbria, I think."
"Oh, yes - yes, to be sure. But. . . does Archbishop Thurstan know of this? Has he agreed?"
"Whether he knows or not is of no matter. This is a matter for the Diocesan. Is it not, Bishop John?"
"Entirely, yes, my lord King. And I have never yet heard of any bishop refusing the splendid gift of an abbey in his see. Have you, Brother Athelwulf?"
"Er . . . no. But in this I would value the Archbishop's . . . guidance."
Henry spoke up. "My lord Bishop - I am Earl of Cumbria. By King Stephen's royal warrant. Do you wish to see the warrant? I have it with me. No? Then do you question my right to erect such abbey? Do you refuse to accept my own abbey in my own earldom? You, a servant of the Lord Christ?"
"No, no, my lord — no." The other wrung his hands.
"Good! And would you have other than yourself consecrate this abbey in our diocese?"
"No. But . . ."
"Bishop John of Glasgow, here, will do it if you wish," David intervened.
"But I would think that even Thurstan would prefer it to be you. As Diocesan."
"Would this abbey be indeed under the Archbishop's rule and authority? Owing duty to York, not to Scotland?"
"If you consecrate it, in your diocese, yes. If not, it will be different matter. It will reopen the controversy over Strathclyde and hegemony."
"No, no - not that!" For once, a subject interrupted a king. "Not that, Sire. Of a mercy . . . !"
"Then - you will consecrate? The foundation-stone?"
Unhappily the prelate nodded his tonsured head.
"We proceed there tomorrow. We will endow the new abbey richly. It will greatly benefit your see, my lord Bishop ..."
So, de Meschin and his people keeping out of sight, the Scots cavalcade, with the reluctant Athelwulf and the Lord William, made a musical and pleasing procession the few miles westwards to Holm Cultram on the Solway shore, where the estuary began to widen. There, after an inspection of the manor, they paced out the bounds of the abbey-precincts, chose the site of its church, and Henry laid the foundation-stone, dedicating the place to the Blessed Virgin, and announcing the lands and revenues for its endowment and support. Thereafter Athelwulf did his consecrating, with holy water and intonations, and however loth, did it well, all agreed. Arrangements were set in hand for the employment of local overseers, masons and craftsmen, and a return made to Caer-lucl - where again de Meschin did not materialise.
Then it was home to Scotland.
They arrived at Rook's Burgh to find serious news awaiting them. Peter of Leon, otherwise Anacletus, was seriously ill, thought to be dying. In this state he had finally and formally abandoned his papal pretensions and conceded Innocent's authority, seeking reconcilation before approaching a higher throne, apparently. Whether Innocent made respondent gesture was not reported; but what was made clear was that he had promptly declared all decrees of Anacletus null, and reinforced all his own orders and vetoes concerning those who had supported his rival - making a start by excommunicating King Roger of Sicily. Amongst the many fiats issued were commands for Bishop Robert of St. Andrews to give up all claims to metropolitan status and to admit immediate subservience to York; and for Bishop John of Glasgow also to put himself under Thurstan's authority. Or both to demit their sees. The sanction of excommunication was threatened for all who chose spiritual disobedience.
David was gravely perturbed and hurt, not to say disheartened. There was no denying the power of the papacy for any man of the Roman faith - indeed for any man in Christendom whatsoever. The threat of excommunication could bring even emperors literally to their knees in dust and ashes before the Pontiff, seeking remission. It represented eternal damnation to the individual soul; and to a nation the break-down of all religious authority - in Scotland's case particularly dire, with all the new administrative system based on dioceses and parishes. David felt embittered indeed. After all that he had done to turn his country from the Celtic to the Roman Church, all the abbeys and monasteries and churches he had founded, all the gifts of revenues and lands - as well as all his mother's strivings - this was the reaction from Rome . . .
That man was not often bitter, angry , offended - he did not allow himself to be, as a conscious effort. But was all three now. Those around him eyed him somewhat askance. He ordered Bishop Robert to remain in his place and act as before. He was Ard Episcop, King's Bishop of Scotland, whatever the Pope might say - these were offices of the old Celtic Church. They must be used again to serve Scotland now. There would be no truckling to York, with its inevitable corollary of subservience to the English Crown.
Bishop John's position was different. He had no background of the Columban faith. He declared that he had no intention of making submission to Thurstan - but on the other hand, he had no intention of bringing down the wrath of the Holy See upon his liege lord and adopted country, by any act of his. He would vacate his see meantime, as commanded - vacate, not resign. He would do what he had indeed long desired to do, in his inmost heart—go to Tiron and become a simple monk there. As a man of God, surely that was his right?
In his present state of mind, David did not forbid him. Probably it was the best course, for the time being. He said goodbye to his one-time tutor and chaplain sorrowfully, but promised to continue with the building of his cathedral in Glasgow. It would be waiting for him to come back. There would be no new appointment to the see, he promised him. Popes on the whole had short reigns.
29
IN NOVEMBER, WITH winter beginning to cap the Highland mountains with white, David, not yet fully recovered from his mood of resentment, was spurred to further wrath. There had been no least reply from Stephen regarding de Vesci and de Meschin; and news reached him that work had been halted on the new abbey at Holm Cultram, allegedly on orders from Archbishop Thurstan, although it was de Meschin who drove the workmen from the site. It was too much. If he was not to look a complete fool and weakling, the King of Scots must act.
He issued orders for a major mustering of armed men, not five thousand this time but three times that number.
His people were nothing loth, in the main. Peace, order and good government were all very well, but apt to be dull for spirited folk used to more stirring activities. There was no difficulty in raising the required numbers; certainly no suggestion anywhere that the King was being impatient.
There was, however, an unanticipated reaction three weeks later, just as the assembling host was preparing to move off into Cumbria. Old Thurstan himself made his second visit to Rook's Burgh, unannounced, frail as he now was, borne in a horse-litter. It seemed that the news of the Scots muster had not taken long to reach York, and further afield still.
He came on the lord Stephen's behalf, the Archbishop declared. The King had had to go to Normandy on affairs of that dukedom. But he would be back soon after Christmas. He urged that King David did nothing rash. There was no need for armed display. As monarchs, they could compose any differences between them readily enough face to face, without bloodshed. Why resort to the sword? Wait until after Yuletide, and Stephen would come north in person to put matters to rights.
David was surprised and only moderately impressed. Why had the governors not been withdrawn from the two provinces long since, he demanded? And what of Holm Cultram, where his son's works had been insolently stopped? And on his, Thurstan's, instructions it was said.
That was all a mistake, a misunderstanding, the Archbishop asserted. Underlings exceeding their instructions. Work could recommence. Just an unfortunate misapprehension by dolts.
David was placed in something of a quandary. It was evident that his muster of strength had achieved results without a sword being drawn. But how genuine, how worthwhile, was this reaction? Stephen was utterly untrustworthy - and he estimated that the Archbishop was almost equally so. Yet was there any point in marching in force
into Cumbria when the object of the enterprise was already gained? Would this not come to look foolish? If there was nobody to fight, nothing to be done but make a progress? He did not want to let loose a large army on a defenceless province, his own province in theory, with no especial aim and target. It would result in sheer slaughter, massacre, pillage and rapine - such invasions always did. On the other hand, if he accepted Thurstan's assurances and dispersed his host, relieving the pressure on the English, had he any certainty that all would not be as before, promises forgotten?
One factor weighed heavily, the coming Yuletide season. He had deliberately chosen a winter-time strike simply because such was practically never attempted on account of adverse conditions, and so offered great opportunities for surprise. But it was one thing to lead an army on a winter campaign and altogether another to keep it standing idle, at home, over Yule, the greatest and longest holiday season in Scotland. It would be as good as condemning the Tweed valley to chaos and spoliation. Indeed, keeping any army, made up of individual lords' levies and innumerable district contingents, in inactive waiting for any length of time, was apt to be a disastrous business.
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