Margaret the Queen (44 page)

Margaret was cheerful, happy, as they made their long return journey, going out of her way to display her friendliness towards Maldred, clearly sensing his reservations. He, for his part, was not the man to repulse such attentions, nor to fail to respond to them, from any attractive woman, queen or other. Magda, in consequence, was as relieved as she was amused. The sun smiled on them, still.

18

Most certainly none
of the three brothers mac Melmore could have foretold that they would be riding
northwards
together from Dunkeld the following summer, at the head of five hundred Athollmen, on warfare bent. For years, all eyes had been turned southwards, as far as possible hostilities were concerned — indeed as far as almost everything went; because of the Normans' appearance on the scene and the opportunities for raid and spoliation in troubled England. Despite — or possibly partly because of — the fact that the late MacBeth's kingdom had been largely based on the north of the country, Malcolm Canmore had always turned his back on the north and the Highlands, tending to look upon these regions as barbarous and beyond the pale. MacBeth had come of the northern branch of the royal house and had been Mormaor of Ross and Moray before he ascended the throne. Now, unexpectedly, out of the blue, almost without warning, there was trouble in the north, danger, revolt.

Oddly enough, such warning as there had been, had come from the
south,
or at least the south-west, via the useful Cospatrick. He had arrived seemingly from nowhere, at Caer-luel some ten days earlier, to inform Madach, acting governor of Cumbria there, that the Earl Erland of Orkney, governing Galloway, had set sail from the Dee estuary of Solway, northwards, with a large fleet of longships, including a sizeable contingent under Godfrey Crovan, King of Man. The rumour in Galloway was that they were bound for the Dalar coast in the Lochaber area, there to support a rising against King Malcolm of Scots — whom the Orkney brothers had evidendy not forgiven for their sister's shame and death. Cospatrick had learned no details of this rising itself, but declared that Malcolm must be warned; and Madach, to emphasise the urgency of the matter, had himself brought the tidings to the King.

In the event, his arrival at Dunfermline had coincided
with news brought by Maldred's old fellow-standard-bearer Cathail, son of Lachlan, Mormaor of Buchan, to the effect that a large army under Malsnechtan of Moray was on the march southwards, allegedly with the object of unseating Malcolm and restoring to the throne the northern line of the royal house. Malsnechtan was the only son of King Lulach, who for five months had succeeded MacBeth on the throne until Malcolm had slain him. So Malsnechtan had both a prior right to the crown and good reason to hate Malcolm. Why he had waited until now to make his bid was not evident — but the King took it entirely seriously, especially when he heard of the Galloway and Man expedition. Clearly there was to be an attack on two fronts.

So the royal army was mustered fast, or such of it as could be, at short notice. Maldred, amongst others, was summoned and ordered to bring with him as many Border and Merse horsemen as he could spare without weakening the essential watch on Tweed, Teviot and Esk. On arrival at Dunfermline, he had been sent off after Madach, who had gone on to Dunkeld to raise the Atholl manpower and lead it northwards. And Maldred had been surprised and pleased to find his other brother Kerald accompanying him, monk though he was.
He
was being sent to collect and bring on the celebrated Brecbennoch of St. Columba, the holy casket containing a bone and relics of Columba himself, which traditionally should be carried before the King of Scots in battle — failure to produce which many blamed for the humiliating climb-down forced on Malcolm by Norman William at Abernethy. The reliquary was normally kept at Dunkeld, and should of course be carried by the Primate-Abbot himself. But the Earl Melmore was no man for battle-going, and Malcolm had ordered Kerald his son to act bearer instead. Indeed he had been appointed Abbot for the occasion, of the small and admittedly not important Abbey of Meigle in Strath-more — but it was a step on the ladder to greater things.

So the three brothers raced northwards with their twenty-five-score garron-mounted Athollmen — although with mixed feelings. It was one thing to ride gallantly to war at the head of a goodly company, and bearing the most cherished talisman in the land after the Stone of Destiny; but altogether another to be riding against their own fellow-countrymen, indeed their distant kinsman. But they had all sworn allegiance to Malcolm, so this was their simple duty.

They went up Tay and then Garry to the Pass of Killiecrankie, then swung north-eastwards at Blair-in-Atholl to follow up the long valley of the rushing Tilt to its source in remote Loch Tilt; and then through the Bynack Pass and down to the upper Dee's pine forests at Linn of Dee, in Brae Mar. The King's information was that Malsnechtan had moved out of Moray itself into Mar; and he was bringing his main royal army up over the Mounth passes to the mid-Dee at Banchory St. Ternan, where he had arranged a rendezvous, not only with the Athollmen but with Lachlan of Buchan, Gillibride of Angus and such force as his officers had been able to raise in the Mearns — whose Mormaor Colin was unfriendly. The Mormaor of Mar, Martacus by name, who also like Colin had been a close friend of MacBeth, was more likely to support Malsnechtan than the King and would have to be watched. Hence this rendezvous in his territory.

The Atholl contingent, which had had furthest to come — forty miles down Dee itself — found almost all the rest assembled at this, the only bridge over that wide and swift-running river for nearly a score of miles in either direction. With their arrival, the royal host numbered about five thousand, and made a brave show. But Malcolm was far from satisfied, saying that reports put the rebels at four thousand at least, not counting any aid from Galloway and Man. And if Martacus of Mar threw in his lot actively with the Moraymen, he could raise as many as two thousand more from his wide and fertile lands. Madach told him that another six hundred Atholl foot were following on, but these would take at least another two days to reach the Dee. The King snarled that he had no time to wait on such laggards.

He was pleased to see the Brecbennoch, however, seemingly confident that it would bring him luck — for it was in that light that he saw it rather than any religious persuasion. It was a rather lovely thing, a triumph of seventh-century Celtic workmanship, quite small and easily carried by one man, shaped like a tiny gable-roofed cottage. Its box was hollowed out of a single block of wood, but it was plated all over with silver and bronze, and adorned with enamelled panels, oblong and circular, in red and gold, these and its peculiar baton-like handle being decorated with typical interlaced Celtic design. It was, however, distinctly battered with much carrying in battle.

A council-of-war was held that evening in the monastery founded by the same Ternan whose abbey was at Dunfermline, and whose monks here kept the important bridge in repair. Malcolm detailed the situation. His scouts reported the enemy advancing down the Don, having come over the Rhynie heights from Strathbogie, latest word placing them in the Alford area, only some twenty miles to the north-west — so time was short. Kildrummy, Martacus of Mar's main seat, was some ten miles further west and being watched needfully — but there was no sign of any major mustering of forces there meantime. Although the Marmen might be assembling secretly elsewhere. The questions were these. To await reinforcements here —
N
and possibly to allow the rebels to be reinforced likewise? Remembering the threat from the west — the Galloway force presumably marching across Drumalban from Lochaber — to divide their host and send part of it to counter that danger? Or to use their full strength at once, move up fast to confront Malsnechtan and seek to choose the best battle-ground?

There was some discussion, but clearly the majority there were in favour of the last course.

"Malsnechtan — has he any skill at war?" Maldred asked. "He is young, is he not? And can have little experience, save perhaps at small feuding."

"Older than yourself!" Malcolm rejoined. "Although a babe at war, I would say. But he may have more experienced friends. I am told that Farquhar of Ross is joining him in rebellion — a curse on him! And
he
saw much of war with his father."

Farquhar, Mormaor of Ross, was MacBeth's eldest son, and who might, of course, have himself laid claim to the throne. But he was known to be a man of little ambition — proved by the fact that he had yielded the great mortuath of Moray, the largest in the kingdom, to his nephew Malsnechtan, and retained only the lesser inheritance of Ross, vast in size but much the less rich. He was, however, a veteran fighter.

"Is Farquhar with Malsnechtan now?"

"That I do not know, more is the pity. The word was that he was following on, with a force from Ross. But that was two days ago. He may have joined Malsnechtan by now."

"It could change all if he has. If Farquhar directs the battle, then it could mean much harder fighting. Is there any way by which we could learn of this? You say that Malsnechtan has come down through Strathbogie? Could you send a fast-riding party there, by round-about route? To enquire if Farquhar was with him, with his Rossmen?"

"Not to be thought of. Strathbogie is thirty-five or forty miles north. In this country, that would take at least three days to bring us news."

"I do not mean that we should sit idle meantime
..."

"Maldred mac Melmore will win all our wars for us — if we but heed him!" Dufagan MacDuff interrupted mockingly. "How fortunate that we have him with us!" A darkly handsome youngish man with a hatchet-face and long chin, he was son and heir to MacDuff, Earl of Fife; and, since his father, senior noble of the realm, was now too heavy and gross for war, the son led Clan MacDuff and so was entitled to claim to be the King's right hand, second in command of the royal army and to have control of the right wing in battle. There was no love lost between him and the Atholl brothers.

Strangely, the monarch did not seem to be grateful for this support. "Quiet!" he barked. For so able a warrior-king he was not good at councils-of-war. "What would
you
do, cousin, instead of sitting? You, who know it all?"

Maldred glanced sidelong at his elder brother, who as heir to Atholl had the right to speak first. But at that quiet and solid character's brief nod, he went on.

"As I see it, Highness, we have few advantages here. We do not know the country, as does the enemy. The folk are hostile, and so will keep Malsnechtan better informed. He can draw on ever more local support whilst we cannot. Time, thus, is on his side, rather than ours. But we
could
have the advantage of surprise. He will know our position and strength, nothing surer. But — he will not expect a night march."

"Night
march? Through country we do not know? Hill country, such as this Mar? With a host of this size?"

"That is why Malsnechtan will not expect it. Would you? Or any? The unexpected could be as good as another thousand men to us, and more."

"Well, man — well? Out with it."

"I do not know this Mar any more than you do, sir. But I see ahead of us this great hill. It is six or seven miles long at least, east and west, and high. The Hill of Fare it is called, I am told. So it is like to be little less in width, north and south. No army could go over that — so we must go round it, east or west about. The Don lies to the north, a dozen or so miles, all know. On the west side, this Hill of Fare sinks into lesser hills and valleys. But on the east, it is fairly level land, we can see. So Malsnechtan will expect any large army to come by the east, from here. A night march by the
west
side, then, could put us, by dawn tomorrow, where he would never look for us — and only a few miles in front of him."

"Aye — and weary with night marching! If we were not bogged in the hills," MacDuff commented.

"It has been a notably dry summer, thus far. The bogs will be none so bad. The burns are low."

"There is much in what he says," Gillibride, Earl of Angus said — who was not usually Maldred's friend, anyone's friend — but who especially did not love MacDuff. "Hear him."

"I have finished, my lord," Maldred said. "Save only to say that we might gain twelve hours. And so perhaps be able to choose the field of battle. Even, it may be, to force the fight before Farquhar of Ross comes up."

Madach spoke, at last. "My brother speaks sense. The unexpected is our opportunity. These nights, it is never truly dark. Let us march."

Presumably the King found himself in agreement for he slammed down his palm on the monks' table, and rose to his feet. The project was accepted.

They marched as soon as the great host could be marshalled into disciplined movement, north-by-west into the nightbound hills.

It proved, from every point of view, a difficult proceeding, trying to man and beast. And slow as it was exhausting, threading narrow, winding valleys, plouter-ing through marshland, climbing steep braes, negotiating rock-falls, struggling through slantwise woodlands, circling fallen trees. Before long, the royal army was strung out over miles, men cursing whoever it was who had thought of this nightmare journeying. Admittedly it was never wholly dark, being early July, but the half-light could be as confusing as darkness, green slime could look like firm turf, a hole seem no more than a shadow, a burn appear narrower than it was. With a local guide, pressed unwillingly into service, Maldred pushed ahead — and kept well away from the monarch's immediate vicinity.