David the Prince - Scotland 03 (28 page)

So here David was, with a small party, ranging the Forest area. It was a huge territory, covering perhaps nine hundred square miles, comprising the upland watersheds of the Ettrick, Yarrow, Teviot and Annan Waters, much of it not forested at all in the sense of being tree-grown, but consisting of many ranges of lonely green hills. There were great woodlands, of pine, oak, birch and hazel, of course, mainly in the deep valleys, but there was also much high moorland and waste, bog and water-meadow, with only here and there patches of cultivation and recognisable pasture, and comparatively few settlements.

The terrain was alive with game and beasts and birds of prey, deer, wolves, boar as well as lesser creatures, and notable for the herds of wild white cattle, the bulls whereof were exceedingly fierce and much prized for their great curling horns as trophies, drinking-horns and the like.

The party had come up long Annandale for almost thirty miles, and from its fair head had turned north-eastwards, up the Moffat Water, to climb into the empty hills, exploring each possible side-valley, considering every prospect. The Prior had a shrewd eye as well as boundless faith, and a clear idea of what he was looking for. Remoteness he wanted, yes - but no barren wilderness. His Order's monasteries had to be more or less self-supporting as well as able to send back annual tribute to the mother-abbey at Tiron; s
o they required arable or culti
vatable land for crops, orchards and gardens, grazing land for sheep and cattle, bogs for peat, water-power for mills, oak-woods for tanneries and other timber for fuel, quarried stone and wood for building and so on. Not every valley offered all these, although the territory generally was hopeful.

Probing eastwards, by a small deserted Celtic cashel under Bodesbeck Law, too constricted for Ralph's purposes, and passing a magnificent and dramatic waterfall near a Pictish fort which had once guarded the very summit of the pass from the Moffat Water over to the Yarrow, they came at length down to a great loch, much larger than any they had seen so far, indeed two lochs really, separated only by a narrow neck of land, the whole length being almost five miles, by about half-a-mile across. Here the Prior thought that he had found that for which he sought. The hills drew well back and there was level ground around the shores, particularly at the head and foot, marshy admittedly but which, he asserted, could be drained, as they had had to drain Pennant-Bachwy. There were woods of oak and ash and pine, and workable sandstone in plenty. And there was the site of another abandoned Celtic monastery, small and simple, but with the tradition of Christian worship, according to a shepherd whose cothouse they found nearby, dedicated to the Blessed Virgin. But the shepherd also told them that the place's looks were deceitful. This was high summer and all looked very fair. But when the winter snows melted on the hills, the two lochs swelled to twice their present size and all the level land around was flooded for months, with even the little cashel becoming an island. That is why his own cottage was built well up on the hillside. No amount of digging would alter that.

So, sadly, they moved on.

Now they were following an ever deepening valley, really a mountain defile, whose river, the Yarrow, rising in the loch, rapidly developed into a noble, rushing stream, rich in salmon and trout they were assured. Prior Ralph admired the beauty of this vale, the wooded lower slopes and the noble hills that flanked it, a positive sea of green hills. But in mile after mile there was no major broadening, no hub of substantial side-glens sufficient to site and maintain the sort of establishment he visualised. It was not until, some fifteen miles down, the river joined another of similar size coming in from a more southerly direction, the Ettrick itself, that the joint valleys suddenly opened out to a great green basin in the hills, wide and fair with, a few miles ahead, a still further widening, where the combined river met the Tweed. The Prior exclaimed joyfully that this was the most beautiful place that he had seen in all his days. Could he, of a mercy, have this? Could he settle here and build his monastery to the glory of God in this God-given loveliness, this quiet, sylvan heaven-on-earth?

David had never been here before. There was a small township called Shiel Kirk, with one more abandoned Celtic Church cashel, and an all-but-abandoned royal hunting-lodge, unused since MacBeth's time. This presumably was the poor accommodation which Alexander had deplored and which he foresaw a monastery as usefully replacing. The folk here were herders and hunters and foresters, who moved up into this upland paradise for the summer months to take advantage of the rich but brief growth of the high pastures, returning to lower lands down Tweedside for the autumn and winter—hence its name of Shiel Kirk, the cashel of the summer shielings. It was all royal land, however neglected. If it so pleased Prior Ralph, here surely the quest could end. In the name of the King of Scots, David told the monk that all the land between Ettrick and Yarrow and Tweed, with all the nearside hill-slopes, was his -
or, at least, the Tironensian Order's — to God's glory and in memory of the blessed Queen Margaret, for the erection of a monastery to replace Pennant-Bachwy. Tears in his eyes and kissing David's hand, the man thanked him, thanked his Creator and all saints, and vowed that he would build here no monastery but a great Abbey which would attempt to do justice to this lovely sanctuary in the mountains and the great heart which had inspired it all.

Almost as moved as the other, David gripped the monk's shoulder - although he realised ruefully that an abbey would take a deal more money to construct than any mere monastery.

But far be it from him to spoil so splendid a conception, with doubts.

So they turned back for Caer-luel. But before they left, David arranged for teams of the herdsmen and foresters to quarry and cart stone and fell timber in readiness for the monkish builders. Ralph assured them that he would be back, to start work, within the month, God willing.

David found a distinct trepidation growing on him on that return journey. Had he, in fact, bitten off more than he could chew? Had he been something of a fool in all this? Was it for such as himself, a young man not yet of thirty years, of no fortune however high-born, hopefully to wed a rich wife, to endow a great religious house? There was no single Romish Church abbey in all Scotland, only a priory at Coldingham founded by Edgar. There were Celtic Church abbeys in plenty; but these were a totally different conception, in the main mere humble settlements of huts of wood and thatch within stone-and-turf enclosures. The Columbans did not go in for stone churches, expensive or otherwise. David knew something of what it had cost his mother to build the great stone minster at Dunfermline, the first of its kind in Scotland - and that was only a large church, not an abbey. This Ralph was an enthusiast; nothing more certain than that he would be content with nothing but the best and finest. What had he let himself in for?

A week or two later, at Caer-luel, with the Prior and his colleagues deep in plans, drawings, dimensions and calculations, David was little reassured. But he kept his doubts to himself as he watched and listened. He wrote letters to Matilda, of course, and told her something of what was to do — but he tried to prevent his fears from showing through in these also. Ruling Cumbria had become considerably easier since Hakon Claw and the Norsemen had been expelled and Fergus made Lord of Galloway. David's reputation had been enhanced even by the Welsh expedition, however undeservedly, and the Cumbrians now accepted his authority without much demur; also the Viscount d'Avranches made an able lieutenant, if, like Fergus, somewhat heavy-handed in his methods. So David was not over-taxed for time and was able to turn some of his attention to South Scotland and Strathclyde, as Alexander had suggested. That great area certainly needed attention, for it had been neglected for years; and as is apt to happen in such circumstances, petty tyrants had sprung up, oppression and violence were rife, and the King's peace and laws set at naught. Lothian, the Merse and Tev
iotdale were well enough, under
Cospatrick of Dunbar's control; but the rest was no-man's-land - or any-man's-land. It was Cospatrick's warning that the new abbey-builders at Shiel Kirk might be at some risk, which caused David to accept some responsibilities in the matter, if his proffered protection was to mean anything.

So he began to make his presence known and felt in the great territory between Cumbria and Northumbria and the Scottish Sea. He visited and warned a number of the local lords and chiefs, burned a few robbers' camps in the Forest area — which was notorious for sheltering broken men - hanged two or three proven murderers and ravishers, as example, and let it be known that the King of Scots' writ would run from now on and that the holy brothers of Shiel Kirk in especial were to be aided and not harassed. He did not effect any lightening pacification, but improvement commenced - and there were no complaints from Prior Ralph.

So passed that summer and harvest-time. There was no news from Alexander, who was not much of a correspondent. But Henry sent word that the threat from Eystein of Norway had receded meantime, for he was at war again with his own half-brothers, Sigurd Half Deacon and Olaf Magnusson, over the division of Norway itself. Henry also informed that he had seen Matilda, given his official royal approval to their marriage, and made it his decision that the wedding should take place immediately after the Yuletide celebrations and befor
e Lent, when he would-be free to
attend and would give away the bride, as was suitable. He suggested the Feast of St. Valentine would be apt.

David might have felt a little piqued that his brother-in-law appeared to be deciding on matters which were normally the bride's and bridegroom's concern; but then of course, it was not any normal wedding, and could not take place
without
the King's authority. Anyway, he was so delighted that it had got so far, and that he had only some five months more to wait, that he would have swallowed more than this. But it did reinforce Matilda's warning that Henry, might seek to use them as pawns in his own games.

Less speedily delivered than by the royal courier, Matilda herself wrote also, giving the same news but adding that she sought to have his, David's, agreement and concurrence gained before the King made any final decision. But Henry had said that this was not necessary, that David was sufficiently fortunate in getting the greatest heiress in England to wife and the earldom of Huntingdon confirmed. He, the King, would decide the wedding-date since, as his ward and kinswoman, he must be present. She was unhappy about this, but overjoyed in all else, counting the days. Once they were wed, Henry could not unwed them, and they might take a stronger line. For the rest, she was at once the happiest and most impatient woman in the land. Hasten
the Feast of St. Valentine - an
d might all heaven and its angels, as well as that saint, look after him, for her, until she had him safe in her arms.

David paid another visit to Shiel Kirk at the tail-end of autumn, in early November, before the winter snows and rising rivers made travel through the hills difficult. He was surprised at how well the work of construction was going, cheered at progress but alarmed at the ambitious scale of the establishment, the scope of which seemed to grow each time he saw the revised plans. Far be it from him to say so, however. The monks inevitably had to concentrate initially on living and working quarters, with only a makeshift chapel of timber and thatch. But the foundations of the great church were laid down and something of its dimensions could be visualised. To David it seemed enormous, if anything larger than Holy Trinity at Dunfermline, and he did permit himself to wonder, aloud, where the congregation to fill this vast edifice was to be drawn from? Prior Ralph assured him that God would provide - David praying for a like faith — and besides, it was not so large as it seemed, foundations always giving an enhanced impression of size. By the time that the lofty and groined vaulting was added, sixty-seven feet high, with the one hundred and twenty foot tower at the crossing and the two lesser towers of ninety feet each at the west end flanking the great rose window, plus the clerestoreys, the pillars - twenty-four of them - the aisles and side-chapels, flying buttresses and the rest, the building would require every inch of its length and breadth dimensions. Even the niches for the carved figures of saints inside and out, demanded space and height if they were not to appear huddled and oppressive. The payer for all this glory-to-be in stone groaned shamefully in spirit and hurried off to inspect the mill and tannery being constructed at the riverside, more in line with his preoccupations and his purse.

David was, nevertheless, interested to learn that many of the local helpers, normally only at Shiel Kirk for the summer months, had elected to stay on over the winter, in order that the good work should not be interrupted. This the monks looked upon as a notable advance and an excellent omen for the future. Fortunately David had brought sufficient funds with him to pay for this - as much as he could spare meantime, for he had large expenses looming ahead for the wedding, a suitable entourage to take down to Northampton, fine clothing, gifts and so on. To marry a prominent heiress was no doubt an enviable situation to contemplate, but as others had discovered the preliminary stages were direly taxing. His position as ruler of Cumbria did not bring him in any large revenue personally— although he might have made it do so had he chosen, as did so many governors; and he had no personal fortune whatsoever. His Norman colleagues, used to living off the land wherever they were as a matter of course, could not understand his attitude, and were apt to be a little resentful that he did not allow
them
a free hand in wealth-gathering either, one of the few rifts in an otherwise fairly harmonious administration. It was quite common custom for them to curse the late Queen Margaret of Scots, who was held to be responsible for most of her son's less-than-practical notions.