Margaret the Queen (47 page)

The visitors were well received. Aldwin was Prior here and Turgot his assistant, so that the hospitality of a quite large establishment was available. Nevertheless their masquerade was maintained in front of the ordinary monks — which seemed to emphasise the seriousness of this alleged need for secrecy. It was not until, fed and refreshed, the four of them were closeted in the Prior's own chamber, that Maldred learned the reasons for his being there.

He could scarcely believe his ears, in fact. It appeared that what he was being involved in was little less than a plot to detach Northumbria from England and incorporate it into Scotland. Linked to this astonishing project was a scheme for consolidating South Strathclyde, or Cumbria, much more positively within the Scots realm — and so making the Scots-English border to run effectively, not at Tweed and Esk but at Tees and Ribble.

"But, but . . ." Maldred floundered. "How could this be? It is beyond all possibility. For Scotland to be taking part of England! After Malcolm having to submit to William . . ."

"It is none so impossible, my lord," Aldwin asserted. "Matters are not what they were, with the Norman. His affairs are in disarray. He has been defeated in the field, for the first time for many years. At Dol, in Brittany. By the King of France. A notable battle . . ."

"Defeated? William. . . !"

"Yes, God be praised! He is in retreat. At last. The Count Robert of Flanders has risen against him, again. And his own son, Duke Robert of Normandy, with him.

William Rufus, it is thought, will join with his brother against their father, once more."

"This is stirring news. But that is France, not England. Here we would have Bishop Odo to face. And strong Norman arms."

. "Not so strong as they were. Not united now, as they were before Hereford's and Norfolk's rising. There is much trouble in England. In especial, since the Earl Waldeve was executed . . ."

"Waldeve executed! The Earl of Northumbria. . . ?"

"You have not heard? Yes, Waldeve of Northumbria is dead. Beheaded at Winchester. William made a sore mistake there. To execute a Saxon earl."

"The man was a Dane!" Cospatrick interpolated. "And a fool. But — William should not have cut off his head. After keeping him in custody for almost two years."

"Why did he do it?"

"None know for sure," Aldwin said. "And it was ill done. As Almighty God Himself chose to demonstrate." "How so?"

"On the scaffold, at Winchester, before thousands, the Earl was repeating Our Lord's Prayer, before his death. He had turned much to the consolations of religion in his long captivity. He daily recited the entire Psalter. Asked to be allowed to become monk. But, no. On the scaffold, re
citing, he got no further than
. . lead us not into temptation', when he choked with tears and could say no more. So the headman's sword struck and the Earl's head was severed from his neck and fell to the ground. And there his lips continued the prayer '. . . but deliver us from evil'!"

Cospatrick snorted. "A likely tale. For bairns!"

"You may scoff, Brother Eadwulf. But thousands do not. All over England the thing is spoken of, believed. To William's hurt. The people are stirred as seldom before. To execute a Saxon earl — and then this! There is unrest everywhere."

"We shall need more than unrest to take Northumbria. And hold it!"

"Yes. But there
is
more," Turgot intervened. "Bishop Walchere is now given sole authority in Northumbria. He has been the Earl's deputy for long — but now he rules, as the King's lieutenant. Perhaps not for long. But meantime he is supreme. So — there is need for haste, it may be."

"Haste for what?" Maldred demanded. "Do you say that the Bishop of Durham is prepared to give Northumbria to King Malcolm?"

The two monks exchanged glances. "Scarcely that, perhaps," Aldwin said. "But
...
he might well go some way along that road. The Earl Waldeve was his close friend . . ."

"We know of that. But he is a Norman, is he not?"

"No, he is not. He is a Lorrainer, of ancient Celtic stock. He mislikes the Normans, almost as much as do we Saxons — although he supports Lanfranc. Hates them more than ever now, since Waldeve. As Brother Eadwulf knows well."

Cospatrick nodded. "Say that the good Walchere is at present more kindly disposed towards Malcolm — or perhaps his Queen — than towards William!"

So Margaret came into this. Maldred might have known, or guessed, with Turgot involved.

"What is the purpose, then? Remembering that Bishop Odo is still viceroy in England."

"Odo — I prefer to name him Earl of Kent, since he is a disgrace to the calling of bishop—is also in trouble, God be praised!" This Prior was not one of the cautious-speaking clerics. "He is at odds with Archbishop Lanfranc. And Lanfranc is William's friend. It was Odo who gained Archbishop Thomas the appointment of York. And now he supports him against Lanfranc. Odo has taken Canterbury lands, arrested Lanfranc's revenues. . .

"What has this squabble amongst Normans to do with Northumbria? Or Odo's ability to bring a great army northwards?"

"Not a little, my lord. Odo has his hands full, in the south. With the unrest over Earl Waldeve and the hatred for his wife — for all believe that it was the Countess Judith who prevailed with her uncles to have her husband executed, in order that she might marry again. His enmity with Lanfranc has already resulted in fighting. And the Welsh are stirring again, as ever. William, in France, is demanding ever more men and moneys, to be sent there, for his wars. Odo is at his weakest."

"So you urge armed revolt? War?"

Again Turgot intervened. "We are churchmen, not soldiers," he said carefully. "You must understand, my lord, we do not seek war. Only say that now is a great opportunity for a change to be made — a change, pray God, for the better. A change through Holy Church. We Saxons of Northumbria are grievously unhappy under King William and the Normans. But Prince Edgar, who should be our king, has now made his peace with William. He will, I fear, never lead England out of her sorrows. So we must needs look elsewhere."

Maldred accepted that, at least. Edgar Atheling was one of the world's unfortunates. He had left Scotland again, those two years ago, with his fine retinue, his ships, arms and treasure, to go take up his barony of Montreuil-sur-Mer, which King Philip had given him on the condition that he assailed William's flank in Normandy. He had got nearly to his destination in the Pas de Calais when typical ill-luck struck again. A fierce gale drove his ships ashore and he lost all, many of his men, his treasure and all his spirit. After months of wandering and skulking on foot, he had found his unhappy way back to Scotland and his sister Margaret — why, when his mother and other sister were much closer, in Philip's Paris, Malcolm for one did not know. At any rate, his welcome this time was less than warm. The King had bluntly told him that he could help him no more, and advised him to go make his peace with William on the best terms he could get — Margaret presumably concurring, but she had found him more moneys, so that he could present himself to William in some style and in comparative dignity. Actually the Conqueror had found it convenient to receive him in less humiliating fashion than he might have done, to detach him from Philip for good; but imposed on him terms in which once and for all he renounced any claim to the English throne and accepted that the Saxon cause was dead — a sorry business.

"You look to Scotland?"

"Yes. England, the
South
of England, is firmly in William's grip. But the North has never been so. The Saxon North, at least, might throw off the Norman yoke. And, who knows, perhaps give a lead to the rest. Cumbria, in name, adheres to Scotland. Down to the Ribble. If Northumbria could be in the same state, then William's writ would run only as far north as Tees and Ribble. To be sure, this was all Bernicia none so long ago, up to the Scottish Sea — Lothian, the Merse, Teviotdale and Northumberland, all in Bernicia. It could be again, and adhering to the Scots realm. And, in this change, the Church could lead the way." "How that?"

"Do you not see it, my lord? Queen Margaret makes it possible. Placed in Scotland by God Himself, I do believe. Holy Church has now a presence in Scotland — which it did not have before. I mean the Church of Rome. The Archbishop Lanfranc thinks highly of the Queen of Scots, conceives her to be h
is daughter in God. The archepi
scopal see of York has been declared by the Papal Legate Hubert to include Scotland. Bishop Walchere is Lanfranc's man. The Church could lead all Bernicia back to
Scotland
. And be a deal happier than under William and Odo."

"And the Romish Church triumph in Scotland!" Maldred commented grimly.

"Not so. No triumph. Nothing of conquest. Only harmony. The Queen does not seek to incorporate your Scottish Church in Rome, my lord — only to bring it into harmony. To the benefit of all. What harm for Scotland in that?"

"If the Archbishops of England claim spiritual sway over Scotland, as they will — as it seems they do — how long before the
King
of England claims a like sway?"

"He does so now, man," Cospatrick pointed out. "Did not William make Malcolm swear allegiance to him at Abernethy, as Lord Paramount? Are we going to be any the worse off? And gain all Northumbria at no cost. Strengthen hold on Cumbria also."

And Cospatrick, resurrected, the lord of all between Forth and Tees, Clyde and Ribble, Maldred almost added. He saw it all now — what his cousin had been working for. "The cost is St. Columba's Church!" he said flatly.

"Nonsense, Maldred! The Keledei are well able to look after themselves. They will not be swallowed up. A few reforms, that is all. Some they have already agreed."

"All? Our birthright sold
for your
Northumbria!"

"See you, lad — there are a thousand and more Keledei in
Scotland
. Two-score and more ruling abbots. Thrice that of bishops. Leave that to them, whose business it is, not yours."

"What is my business here, then? Why did you bring me?"

"We desire you to go to King Malcolm, my lord,"

Aldwin said. "To explain all to him. To seek his . . . adherence."

There was silence in the Prior's room for a
little
, as Maldred pondered.

"Whether this is for good or ill, I would have to consider more," he said at length. "But
...
it seems to me that much depends on Bishop Walchere. Since he rules Northumbria now, for the realm as well as the Church. You are his friends. Is this his will? Does he favour it all?"

There was a momentary hesitation.

"The good Bishop is a man pulled two ways," Aldwin said. "He wears, as it were, both mitre and helmet. The mitre favours this move. The helmet is yet fully to be convinced."

"That I can believe."

"He can, and will be convinced, we believe," Turgot said. "For the man who advises him in matters of state, his lieutenant in the rule of Northumbria, is for this great project. Indeed much of it is his planning. With Brother Eadwulf, here. The Thane Ligulf. He will convince the Bishop, we have no doubt. For he much relies on Ligulf."

"And even if he does not, Walchere will not oppose Malcolm with armed force, I swear!" Cospatrick added.

"Oppose . . . ? Then you look for Malcolm to
invade
Northumbria? Bring an army here?"

"To be sure. That is what you are to tell him. For Walchere's name and repute, we must
seem
to constrain him. By armed force. Then the churchmen, Lanfranc, Thomas and the rest, have to accept the situation with a good grace. That is how it goes, man. This Ligulf will lead Walchere's army, see you. The thing is well thought out, never fear."

"That I do not doubt. What I doubt is the cost. And who gains?"

"Let Malcolm decide that, cousin. The decision is not for you. Maldred mac Melmore is only the messenger — but the
informed
messenger. We would have you ride tomorrow
..."

* * *

Whatever his doubts, Maldred could scarcely refuse to carry the tidings to the King. Whatever else these might be, they were important enough; and it was not his business to choose which messages the monarch should receive and which not. Cospatrick himself, of course, could not appear at the Scots Court; otherwise he could, no doubt, have acted courier himself and used his persuasive powers on Malcolm. Maldred was left in no doubt that he was expected to support the scheme before the King — but that
was
his own business and he reserved his judgement.