David the Prince - Scotland 03 (43 page)

That man drew a deep breath. "I am in Your Grace's hands," he said, into the hush. "I see that you came prepared. Without hearing what I had to say. You recognise, I have no doubt, what this will do to these border lands? It will divide, where I have sought to bring together. Cause strife and enmity instead of the peace I have worked for
..."

"Not so. No need for strife — unless
you
foment it, from the Scots side!"

"That I shall not do. But others may . . ."

"I think not. We shall
see
that they do not. We shall guard our marches, never fear. You are not the only one who can build castles, David. We shall build many. The good Bishop Flambard has already plans to erect a great new strength. On his lands of Norham-on-Tweed. Conveniently close to your Rook's Burgh! We shall preserve my peace, I tell you."

David bowed. "You are the King," he said.

Despite all Matilda's fine provision, the repast which followed was not a success. Reserve, suspicion, hostility were evident on every hand. David's people acted but poor hosts to the visitors. At the dais-table, Henry, between David and Matilda, made little attempt at the civilities, and not unnaturally received only distant courtesies in return. An outright quarrel developed between Hervey de Warenne and the new Governor, de Meschin, a dark, saturnine man of middle years, and their hands dropped to their dirks. David had to rise and strongly rebuke both men, and their eager adherents, for daring to raise their voices in the King's royal presence.

As host, David decided to countermand the appearance of the entertainers, since these would give opportunity for further drinking, with possible unfortunate results. The banquet in consequence broke up notably early, with Henry agreeing that he and his people were tired after their long riding, and with another lengthy journey in the morning, for he planned to be at Rufus's great castle on the Tyne next evening.

In their own bedchamber that night, David and Matilda discussed the situation. She was indignant, as well as sore-at-heart for him; but he was less distressed than he might have been, for he had seen something of the sort coming for long. He was surprised, admittedly, at the extent and detail of Henry's actions, and the forward planning involved. Also he was uncertain as to his own position now. But what did hurt him was Fergus Mac Sween's deceit, guile and almost betrayal, in agreeing to a marriage with this young daughter of Henry's, without any word to himself, his superior and friend.
It
must have been under arrangement for long. Fergus was not present; so far as they knew he was at one of his houses in Galloway. How he had been got at, David did not know; there must have been comings and goings for some time, for Henry had said that the wedding would be so soon as the Eve of St. Luke, at Westminster. Fergus, of course, had been a hostage in the South, with David, and would have many Norman links still.

In the morning, the royal entourage took longer to move off than Henry had indicated. When at length it was departure and farewells were being said, however stiffly, David put his question.

"Your Grace has appointed a new Governor of Cumbria, in your wisdom. Where does that leave me? I require to know my position now, Sire."

"Have I changed your position, David? I said that I did not dismiss you from my service - as I might have done."

"But . . . you have put this de Mcschin in my place."

"Not so. He is governor. You viceroy."

"You mean . . . that I am still your viceroy? Yet de Meschin governs. How can that be?"

"You represent myself, the Crown, in these parts. Better than you have done hitherto, I hope! De Meschin
rules
Cumbria. To my requirements.
It
is a sufficiently large territory. Between you, pray God, you will do it justice! Or I must needs make other arrangements still. Now - we must ride. Matilda my dear - you used to have a good head on your shoulders. Guide this one well - for he needs it! God keep you all . . ."

No wiser, they watched the King go, leaving the taciturn de Meschin and the new Bishop Athelulf behind. If he left mystification also, it was very much mixed with warning. Henry Beauclerc might be devious, but his actions were seldom unplanned.

For his part, uncertain as to his position as he still was, David did not take long to decide on his own immediate actions. When he learned that de Meschin intended to take over at least part of Caer-luel Castle for his own headquarters, and recognised that resentment between his own supporters and lieutenants and the newcomers was going to boil over into trouble, and quickly, he called together his people. He told them that he saw this new position as impossible. There could not be two masters at Caer-luel. So he was going to pack up and go to Rook's Burgh, to reside. Since they were all subjects of King Henry, however, he advised, reluctantly, that they came to terms with the new Governor, who would no doubt be glad to have the advantage of their knowledge and experience here and would probably maintain them in the most of their positions. If, however, any of them were strongly against this course, they could come with him to Rook's Burgh - but he reminded them that this was in the realm of Scotland, and any removal thereto on a permanent basis could put them much at Henry's displeasure. He was distinctly surprised and much moved when every one of his Cumbrian team, Norman and Saxon alike, vehemently opted to move with him into Scotland. Nothing would change their minds; they would not stay to serve under this interloper, de Meschin, and his upjumped crew. Let him seek to govern Cumbria as best he could. King Henry and he would soon be sending for the Earl David and themselves to come back and clear up the mess. There was room for all in Strathclyde, they were all aware.

Matilda glowed with pride in her husband's capacity to generate loyalty — even though not in Fergus Mac Sween apparently — and gave orders for all their domestic establishment at Caer-luel to be dismantled ready for transport northwards. They would move in a matter of days.

So ended the experiment of mutual and unified government of the borderlands. Despite its success, it was probably fated from the start, given the prejudices and failings of human nature.

The move to Rook's Burgh was like a tribal migration, for many of David's people had found wives amongst the local folk and produced children. No r
egrets were expressed on either
side - but undoubtedly lists of names would be compiled by de Meschin and sent to Henry.

As Viceroy and Governor of Strathclyde, David sent for Fergus, Lord of Galloway to attend him at Rook's Burgh - only to be informed that he had already departed to the South for his wedding.

They settled in comfortably and indeed somewhat relievedly, where Teviot joined Tweed, David sending out his lieutenants to overseeing duties all over Strathclyde. He had some difficulty in restraining those who remained, together with de Soulis in Liddesdale and de Brus in Annandale, from marching the fifteen miles or so to Norham-on-Tweed, there to demolish the preliminary work on Flambard's new and rival castle. Bishop John, not grievously upset by being spared spiritual responsibility for English Cumbria, went to take up his abode at Glasgow on the Clyde, towards which David would have to turn his attention more frequently.

So that winter passed, with precious little coming and going between Caer-luel and Rook's Burgh, David expecting any day to receive word of Henry's further displeasure and an end to his now merely nominal viceroyalty. But the word which reached him first came from Stirling, not London, and put a final end to this limbo period.
It
came in late April 1124, and not by any courier but by an illustrious deputation, led by his cousin Madach of Atholl, Constantine, Earl of Fife, Robert the Chancellor, young Malcolm mac Eth and others. Madach dropped to his knees before him - they all did.

"My lord David - greetings!" he said. "The lord Alexander died at Stirling three days back. In the presence of myself and others, after long ailing. God rest his soul. He named you heir. You are by God's grace, undoubted King of Scots. I claim proudly to be first to render fealty to my liege lord." And he held out his two hands, to enclose David's, in age-old gesture of homage.

Part Three

20

T
he minster of
the Holy Trinity at Dunfermline was full to overflowing for the first ceremony of the new reign - or was it the last of the old? The great church was now to be turned into an abbey, in accordance with one of the last of Alexander's commands, with impressive rights and privileges and endowments of lands, as befitted his own last resting-place. David, with Matilda on his arm paced out from the sacristy which opened off the south transept, and on to the crossing, beneath the tall central tower. He turned towards the high altar and bowed deeply, Matilda curtsying. Then they turned right about, to face the crowded congregation massed in the still unroofed nave, and bowed and curtsyed again, although a shade less deeply. There was a stir throughout the church at this unexpected gesture from monarch to people at first encounter. Facing front again, the royal pair waited at the chancel-steps, alone. No word was spoken. Only the great bell tolled slowly, steadily, as it had done since sunrise that St. Mark's Day, the air in the minster seeming to quiver to the resonant clanging.

After a few moments the great west doors were thrown wide, and the funeral procession entered. First came a group of eight cymbalists, treading slowly and clashing their cymbals in time and tune with the mighty tolling bell overhead, a strangely, almost savagely impressive sound and progress which made more than the air to shiver. Then came a large choir of men and boys, but silent, heads bowed. There followed the Prior of Dunfermline, black stole over his gorgeous vestments - which had been sewn by the hands of Queen Margaret herself. He bore aloft the famous Black Rood, containing its revered portion of the true Cross of Calvary, brought for the occasion from Margaret's private chapel at the fort of Dunedin in Edinburgh. Behind this walked the Chancellor, Robert, Abbot of Scone. Alexander had appointed him
Ard Episcop
and Bishop-Elect of St. Andrews, in place of the dead Eadmer; but he was not yet consecrated to the episcopate. Bishop John of Glasgow had offered to do this, but it had been rejected for the same reason as heretofore - the Primate coul
d not receive ordination at the
hands of a lesser prelate without compromising his authority. So Robert must either journey to Rome, await the coming of some papal legate, or hope that the newly appointed William, Archbishop of Canterbury, would prove sympathetic and undemanding. So now only an acolyte carried the magnificent crozier of St. Andrews, as symbol.

Finally came the dead King, borne in an open coffin upon the shoulders of his ri, the lesser kings of the Scots realm, young and old. There should have been eleven of these mormaors or earls, but three were missing and one was too ill to be present. However, Cospatrick of Dunbar, although not one of then, was an earl of Scotland and took station on the left at the foot, so that there were eight to carry the High King,
Ard Righ
,
on his last earthly journey.

Breaths were caught and prayers muttered as this illustrious group, so seldom seen all together, sombrely made its burdened way up towards the chancel, to the heavy clangour of bell and cymbals.

At the steps, the instrumentalists and choir moved left and right, to allow the clergy, with crucifix and crozier, to lead the coffin-bearers onwards. David and Matilda fell in behind them.

Before the high altar a great greenish Iona marble slab had been raised from the floor and moved aside, to reveal a gaping hole. On the lip of this the procession paused, the clergy to move round to the east of the cavity, the earls and their burden to remain on the west. David led Matilda to a throne-like chair on the right of the chancel, and then returned to take his place now at the head of the coffin, under which he placed a shoulder.

The cymbals ceased their clanging and two strokes later the minster bell at last fell silent.

The Chancellor Robert intoned the first part of the burial service, his voice sorrowful but rich, the Latin phrases sonorous enough to sound almost as though they had taken over from the bell. But he did not prolong it, merciful towards those who had to stand holding up the massive coffin.

At a sign, a single cymbalist came forward, and at the same deliberate tempo as before, began to lead the clergy and bier-bearers down the stone steps into the underground crypt, which Alexander himself had had excavated. Slowly, heedfully negotiating those steps, the burial party dropped out of sight of all others in the church, while the clashing beat grew fainter, more hollow, sepulchral indeed, to most remarkable effect.

Below, in the dim light of candles, under the lowering vaulted roof, David watched, much moved, as the coffin was at last lowered, with much care, into the great leaden casket prepared for it at the head of the sad row of others - his family, mother, father, Edward, Ethelred, Edgar, with their half-brother Duncan the Second a little apart, now four kings and a queen and two princes. Apart from the unhappy Edmund, who was none-knew-where and might well be dead also, David was the last of that large family which had wrought such changes in Scotland, his sisters lying in foreign graves. Here, then, it all ended. Or, perhaps, here it all more truly began? In a row of leaden caskets under a stone vault. If and when he might tend to grow above himself, to see himself, as monarch, more illustrious than other men, let him remember this row of boxes, and pray for humility.