Margaret the Queen (36 page)

It was left to Maldred to raise the issue of the last conditon. "The hostage? Your Highness's son."

Malcolm grunted. "Aye. God be praised, he does not understand! He said my
eldest
son. That is Duncan."

There was a pause in that dim, candle-smelling place, less than comfortable.

The King emphasised the position, that there be no mistake. "He does not know. That our Edward is to be my heir. He conceives it to be Duncan, because he is eldest. Let him so believe."

A number of those present were less than happy with this statement. Admittedly the Celtic monarchy was not wholly concerned with primogeniture, succession often going to the most able of the royal house, as in the clan polity, sometimes even a nephew taking preference over an inadequate son. But this was a decision for later, when young people could be judged, and for the realm's high council of
righ,
or lesser kings, to take. That Malcolm should have already chosen this infant and set aside the two princes by Ingebiorg, was contrary to both nature and tradition.

"He could never have taken Edward, my baby!" Margaret cried. "He, he would have had to have taken me also!"

"Never fear," her husband said, "that he would
not."
He looked round them all. "So be it. We accept his terms. In name. It will be necessary to produce young Duncan. From my brother's house in Mamlorn. Maldred, you had better go fetch him. He knows you."

"It will be a sore matter for him, Highness. A boy of eleven years . . ."

"None so sore. It will be something new. As well in England as in the wilds of Mamlorn."

Margaret bit her lip but said nothing.

So they moved out, and William saw them again — although once more they had a considerable wait.

"I have decided that I must accept your terms," Malcolm declared bluntly.

"Wise." The Norman was equally brief. "You will take the oath? Fealty?"

"Yes."

"The rebels and trouble-makers will be banished?" "Yes."

"And the prince? Your son."

"I shall send for him. He is at my brother Donald's house, in Mamlorn. In the Highlands. A long clay's journey."

"Then have him here without delay. My forty thousand are a charge on your realm until I have him! And meantime I will supply you with a guard of my best knights. It would be a pity if you, and this fair lady, were to suffer the attentions of my unruly soldiery! Whilst you wait."

"That will not be necessary. I have ample guards of my own."

"It will, however, be my pleasure. And duty.
You
know how invading troops may behave! Say no more." All knew that it was only a precaution lest Malcolm should indeed have second thoughts and seek to bolt behind the Highland Line.

So under large escort they were conducted back to Culfargie. And from there, that same late afternoon, Maldred set out on his long ride to Mamlorn.

He went up Strathearn, using the old Roman road, by Gask and Strowan, to Loch Earn. Then climbed steep Glen Ogle to the head of Loch Tay, and so over the high pass of the Lairig nan Lochan at the west shoulder of great Beinn Lawers to Glen Lyon. And there, off that lovely wooded valley winding through the lofty mountains, up a
little
side-glen, was Loch Deabhra, really only a flooded valley-floor, at the head of which, on an artificial crannog, or island, built of stones and logs and turf, rose the hall-house of Donald Ban mac Duncan, lawful son of the King Duncan whom MacBeth had slain. It was an extraordinary place for a king's son to live, hidden away in these remote fastnesses. It had been a hunting-seat and fort combined of the Scots Kings of Dalriada, or Dalar, remaining royal property and in occasional use after the union of the Picts and Scots. MacBeth had given it to his stepson Lulach, who succeeded MacBeth as King for five months until Malcolm slew him also. Donald Ban and Lulach had been close friends, too close some unkind folk suggested; and had dwelt here together. Having little love for his half-brother Malcolm, and few ambitions as to power and the life of the Court, he had stayed on at Deabhra, content with the simple life. Unlike the King in so many ways, he was something of a scholar, as had been Lulach — fit only for the Church, in Malcolm's estimation. They had gathered together a notable library in this sequestered spot; and Donald, when he left it, usually did so to visit other scholars of the Celtic Church, occasionally his uncle Melmore of Atholl. So Maldred knew him fairly well. Now Malcolm had at last found some use for his awkward brother, as keeper and tutor of his unwanted sons Duncan and Donald Beg.

As it transpired, Malcolm was right, and Prince Duncan showed no distress at the news of his sudden summons into the outer world. Donald Ban, a quiet, withdrawn man, notably fair of hair and beard — hence his by-name of Ban — seemed only mildly concerned at losing one of his charges. Only the young Donald Beg, ten years old, was at all upset, and that because he too would have liked to have gone adventuring.

Maldred was no more than twelve hours at Deabhra, the King having impressed on him the need for haste, the urgency of getting the English away and off their necks at the earliest moment. The boy Duncan would not be able to ride so fast and far as he had done on the outward journey, so going back would take longer. They were up with the dawn, therefore, and with fresh horses set off for Fortrenn just after sunrise, Donald Beg tearful, his brother scornful, bright-eyed, eager. Maldred did not know whether to warn the boy that what lay ahead of him was not likely to be all excitement and adventure. On the other hand, hostages for lofty folk often did quite well at an enemy Court. Young Duncan was a fairly tough character anyway, much less sensitive than his brother. Apart from explaining what a hostage was, then, he added little.

They covered the ground well, in poorish weather, and got as far as St. Fillan's monastery at the tail-end of Loch Earn that evening, and rode down the Earn to reach its junction with the opening estuary of Tay next day, by noon.

The royal party at Culfargie awaited them impatiently, only the Queen showing any concern for the young prince. No time was lost in making a move over to Abernethy, in their company of arrogant Norman knights.

This time they were received promptly enough, without any of the infuriating waiting. Presumably William himself had had enough of waiting around. He was curt — except to Margaret — and businesslike. Actually he greeted young Duncan more civilly than his father had done.

It was a day of intermittent rain-showers, and William elected to hold such ceremony as there was indoors, in the eating-hall of the abbey. One king swearing fealty to another was a very major event, and was not to be conducted in any hole-and-corner fashion. And there had to be sufficient witnesses. On the other hand, no lengthy procedure had to be involved — and neither William nor Malcolm were men much inclined to ceremonial.

In the centre of the crowded refectory, then, the Conqueror produced his chaplain and clerk, William de Poictiers, a foxy-faced individual with a shirt-of-mail showing under his monk's habit, a gospel scroll held in his hand. He instructed Malcolm to kneel before William.

"No, clerk," the King said flatly. "The King of Scots kneels only before Almighty God."

"But
...
it is necessary, Your Grace."

"Not so. I do not kneel."

"The oath of fealty, my lord King, must be taken kneeling
..."

"Mon Dieu
— let it be!" William jerked. "So long as he takes it, head bowed, it will serve."

"As you say, Sire." The monk looked sour. "King Malcolm — take King William's hand in both your own. Then rest them on this Holy Writ."

The Conqueror held out his right hand, palm vertical. Grimly, distastefully, the other placed his own hands on either side of it.

"Now, repeat after me, head bowed, 'I, Malcolm, King of Scotland.

"I, Malcolm, King of
Scots
. . ." the other amended — and if his head was bowed, it was so little as to be unnoticeable.

". . . do hereby take you, William, King of England and Lord Paramount of Scotland . . ."

". . . do hereby take
you, William, King of England “

". . . Lord Paramount of Scotland!"

"King of England,
styled
Lord Paramount of Scotland."

The priest glanced at the Conqueror — who, expressionless, gave the merest nod.

". . . to be my lord of life and limb and I your man, for the land I hold under God
..."

". . . to be my lord of life and limb for the lands I hold under God
..."
Malcolm's lips continued to move for a moment thereafter, but soundlessly. And probably few noticed that he had said lands instead of land.

"Moreover, I swear to support and uphold you, William, with all the strength of my land
..."

"...
I swear to support and uphold you, William, with all the strength of my lands . . ." Again the lips moved.

". . . and to adjudge all your enemies as my enemies — so help me God!"

". . . and to adjudge all your enemies as my enemies — so help me God!"

Malcolm released the other's hand as though it was burning him, William looking grimly amused. They stared at each other for a long moment, two bastards, the miller of Forteviot's daughter's son, and the tanner of Falaise's daughter's son.

"It will serve," William said. "No doubt but you will keep your solemn vows — for it will be my concern to see that you do! And, to be sure, I will have your son further to ensure it!"

" You will treat the boy well?"

"As well as any son of my own — for so long as you abide by your oaths." He looked around him. "Now — Edgar Atheling and the Earl Cospatrick? They leave this realm? All other Saxons likewise. Before the Day of St. John the Evangelist."

"Yes."

"Then our business is done, I think." Stiffly Malcolm inclined his head.

"Your lady-wife has been a joy to meet." William bowed to Margaret. "I shall not forget her, nor her . . . good works. I shall give your letter to the good Lanfranc, lady, and tell him of your excellent purposes. Any assistance I may give, call on me."

"Your kindness I shall not forget, my lord."

"Nor I your beauty."

Margaret went over to the now rather forlorn-looking small boy, and spoke kindly. But he turned away — as well he might. Malcolm was making for the door, without further remark, when Maldred went to touch his arm.

"Highness — the boy," he said.

"Ah, yes." The King turned and went to Duncan. He looked down at him for a moment. "Aye, lad," he said, at length. "I am sorry. This is how it had to be." He swung about and strode out.

The rest of the Scots followed, a few thinking to bow towards William.

Maldred eyed Margaret, who was looking at young Duncan still, biting her lip, pain in her eyes. He went over to her.

"Come," he said. "Come, Highness. It was not your doing. And there is nothing that you may do now. Come now." He clapped the boy on the shoulder, and led the Queen away. He had never seen her less sure of herself.

14

Maldred spent little
of that summer at Court. After Cospatrick left for Flanders, he took seriously his new duties of keeping an eye on the Earl's Border lands of Dunbar and March — a task in which the King encouraged him, for of course the territory was vital for Scotland's security, especially in present circumstances — for although William and his hosts had gone, without battle, the climate and attitude prevailing thereafter was more or less that Scotland had suffered a grievous defeat, and was therefore more or less open to enterprising raiders and freebooters.-The Orkney earls were not long in displaying that sort of initiative both in Cumbria and

Strathclyde north of Galloway; and Waldeve of Northumbria, with old scores to setde, might be expected to seek to improve upon the situation. So Maldred spent much of his time at the two new Norman-style stone castles Cospatrick had begun to build at Dunbar, by the Lothian coast, and Ersildoune in Lauderdale, Magda usually with him — although the Queen required her p
resence at Dunfermline frequentl
y. Maldred devised quite an elaborate system of defensive arrangements, along the Tweed and Teviot rivers, based on the various fords, with a rota of men on guard at all times, and plans for swift muster and reinforcement locally, in the event of any major assault. Fortunately the area was fairly populous and the people warlike — indeed only too eager for military exercises, which were apt to be worked off amongst themselves if no more suitable target offered — so that manpower was little problem, however much the maintaining of discipline was otherwise. Maldred's preoccupations were more with keeping rival petty chiefs and their bands from each others' throats, and acting the judge in altercations, than in actually repelling enemy raids. He was, in fact, doing an earl's work without an earl's authority. But his royal connections helped, and it was excellent experience for a young noble, almost everyone assured him. Sometimes his brother Madach came to aid him; but he was now largely managing Atholl for their father, who preferred bookish pursuits. So the two brothers were kept busy, controlling three major earldoms. Maldred's duties were not all military and judicial, of course; the productiveness of Cospatrick's great domains, especially in Lothian and the Merse, had to be maintained, and the revenues despatched to Flanders — less what was required for the upkeep of the properties and the support of the Earl's three young sons, Dolfin, Waltheof and Cospatrick, and the daughter Ethelreda, at Ersildoune.