King Hereafter (134 page)

He came home from Fife on two occasions. One was to attend, with his fellow bishops, the celebration of the Yule Mass. In the absence of Tuathal to stop him, the King had elected to hold it in Brechin, south of the safe borderline of the Dee and where the entire household, in Tuathal’s opinion, ran a risk that was not at all necessary.

He expressed this view, since nothing in his previous experience of Thorfinn counselled caution. Emerging red-faced from this interview, he went to find Hrolf, whom he discovered in a mess of stone-dust, carving a gargoyle.

‘Hah!’ said Bishop Hrolf. ‘And what did you complain about?’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ said Tuathal. ‘What’s happened?’

‘Nothing serious,’ said Bishop Hrolf. ‘Winter. The lack of news. Being tied to Alba. He needs to go north, and of course he mustn’t. But the main trouble is that all his energy is coming back. Orkney and Alba between them kept him stretched, with as much of the rest of the world as he could cram in as well. Alba isn’t enough. At least, the way he has to keep it just now. That is, there are a thousand things he wants done, but not enough people to do them. Be warned.’

‘I’ve had my warning,’ said Tuathal.

After Christmas, he left, and the next time he came back, he knew very well the reception he would get. The fact that Thorfinn received him alone in the Deeside hall he was currently occupying was enough.

For Tuathal, it had been a long ride: first to his own monks at Portmoak in Fife, and then round the ruins of Perth and of Scone, through the suspect vales of Angus, and north to where the King was.

He was no longer in full ceremonial, with mitre and staff and attendants, as he had displayed himself when on his mission. But he still had a train of some size, which took a little handling, although Scandlain, now his lieutenant, was a good man. He had stopped at Scone, where the timber house Malcolm had
left above the shrine and the inaugural Stone were still intact, in the care of the hermit who tended them. For the rest, there was nothing but rubble, and the burial-mounds of light grass, whose occupants could not even be separated, and the new crosses of wood driven in over them. He knew of no one who passed it without crossing himself, and no churchman who left it without praying.

To brace himself against the King’s direct attack was, therefore, an effort. He did not know the changes in Thorfinn’s unsmiling face as the Lady did, but he knew well-controlled anger when he saw it.

He received no welcome. ‘Where have you been?’ said Thorfinn.

‘My lord King. May I sit?’

‘If you wish. Where have you been?’ It was February and still cold. Thorfinn’s tunic was of thick hide, long-sleeved, with narrow, sewn trousers below it. He stood, his feet apart, and looked down at his Bishop of Alba.

Tuathal said, ‘You have had reports of my movements, I take it. I have been south of the Forth to see my lord Malcolm your nephew.’

‘Without my leave?’

‘Do I need it?’

‘We are not speaking of a church matter,’ Thorfinn said. ‘We are speaking of a conceit that overrides other men’s judgement in concerns that affect the life of this people. Were it necessary, I should sacrifice your life in that cause as readily as you would.’ He waited a moment, and then said, ‘Or did you imagine I thought you another Malduin?’

‘No, my lord King. But I hoped your nephew Malcolm might,’ said Tuathal.

The King took two paces past the fire and back again; and constellations glowed red in the peat, and then dimmed again. He said, ‘I must be clear. Nothing that you may possibly have gained could have been worth the risk of losing one of our leaders. Also, you have demeaned me. I don’t care to be seen either as a man who sends others to do what is dangerous, or as one whose edicts others may flout. Had I known you were capable of such a thing, I would never have made you Bishop of Alba.’

‘Had I not been Bishop of Alba, I couldn’t have done it,’ Tuathal said. ‘I am not yet consecrated. You may degrade me.’

The King stood still, looking at him, and slowly began to draw breath. The thick enamels glowed, flattening over his diaphragm: deep blue and purple and green, with the flash of encased gold. In Birsay, in Canisbay perhaps, he would have lifted what was nearest and heaviest—the iron torch-holder at his back, the board of cups, the brazier even, had there been one—and thrown it, to demonstrate and exorcise his anger.

Now, he loosed his breath and, dropping his hands, for the first time sat down. He said, ‘The King I should be would degrade you.’

‘
Take him out and thrash him
,’ Thorfinn had said, sixteen years ago, of the brilliant, beautiful boy who had also tried to deface his credit in the hall that had once been Perth.

A rare anger came in his turn to Tuathal. He said, ‘My lord. I am not an unthinking child.’

He saw, in the blue peat-smoke between them, the years thronging past, and the happenings, and the men.

Thorfinn said, ‘No. When I speak like that, you need say only one word. Dunsinane.’

Tuathal made no answer.

Presently, the King said, ‘Tell me, then.’

Tuathal said, ‘It was properly done. I sent Scandlain forward with gifts. He had a priest with him, and a group of monks, and none of them was armed. When my lord Malcolm sent word that he would see me, I rode there myself. He was at Abercorn. I took the banner of Kinrimund and nothing but my household, again all unarmed. I wore the Saracen silks.’

‘Was that wise?’ said the King.

‘I thought so, my lord,’ said Tuathal.

‘Go on,’ said Thorfinn.

‘Scandlain and the men were taken elsewhere, and I was led to the door my lord Malcolm was using. He came out to the threshold to greet me himself. Inside were a number of men, among them Gillocher the stepbrother of the late Bishop Malduin, and the two young men of Fife we know of, and a number of others we thought had gone south. I have a list of their names.’

‘Yes. That was useful. Go on,’ said the King.

‘We talked. He asked me if I represented you, my lord King, in coming to him and I said yes. It was necessary. It did not matter whether he believed me. I said that you were concerned about the needless waste caused by the division of the kingdom, and thought the time had come to agree on a proper boundary-line. I said that the Earl Siward had broken the agreement you had made as to the allocation of the lands of Lothian, but that you recognised that my lord Malcolm would find it difficult now to clear such land of those henchmen of the late Earl who had now taken up holdings there. I said that my lord Malcolm would know that north of the Lothians the land was loyal to you and could only be held down by force. I said that you were willing to concede him the whole of the Lothians up to the line of the river Forth.’

He knew now he had the King’s mind. There was no expression of outrage. Thorfinn said, ‘And what did he say?’

Tuathal said, ‘One of the Fife men, Fothaid, I think, laughed and said that if King Macbeth thought Fife was loyal to him, it was surprising that he never held court there, or had it rebuilt since it was wasted. My lord Malcolm signed to him to be quiet, and said to me that he was glad his uncle was good enough to offer him what was already his and he thanked him. About the possession of the lands further north, I could see that his men took a different view from my master, but that he himself was never one to turn down an offer to negotiate, and if the King would come south himself, he would be prepared to discuss matters with him.’

‘Did he really expect it? Or … No. Continue,’ said the King.

‘I said that you were careful, and I was not sure if I could persuade you, but I
thought in the end that you might. I am sorry, my lord,’ Tuathal said, ‘but time is what we need.’

‘Yes. All right. I understand that,’ said Thorfinn.

‘So he said that he was not surprised to hear that his uncle preferred to be careful, as he had heard that there was a good deal of unrest in what used to be his kingdom. He also said that he had heard that the King was a sick man who had never fully recovered from his injuries of eighteen months ago, and that he was surprised that you had never thought of retiring in comfort to the lands that were your own in Caithness and Orkney, and of leaving Alba to those who were of the blood and knew how to run it. He said that, indeed, he had sometimes wondered if that was not what the King might have in mind, since he had preserved the men and lands of the north so carefully from damage in the last war.’

Thorfinn did not speak. Tuathal said, ‘It is, of course, important for him to try and guess your mind on these matters. I said that, for whatever reason, you were still adamant about not making use of Caithness and Orkney men in the south. I also said that I did not see how he could talk of Alba belonging to anyone else, since your grandfather, my lord King, had been King of Alba, whereas his had not been of royal blood at all. Also that, as inheritor of Moray, which was part of Alba, you would be unlikely to give up what was loyal to you.’

‘And he said that the loyalty of the men of Alba was to my wife, through whom my claim to Moray came,’ said Thorfinn.

‘I reminded him that you were also Findlaech’s stepson,’ Tuathal said. ‘I also said that your health was good. I don’t know if he believed me. He asked no more about that, but went on to talk about Bishop Hrolf’s visit to Denmark, about which he had heard, and wanted to know what I thought of King Svein. I said I thought he was a man pushed to the limit in his long war with Norway, so that money could be frightened out of him easily.’

‘Tuathal,’ said Thorfinn, ‘the day is brighter already. Don’t stop.’

‘Then he talked about Earl Alfgar and his attack on Hereford,’ Tuathal said. ‘The King had called Earl Tostig down to help deal with it, but in the end Earl Alfgar sued for peace from the mountains, and Earl Harold Godwinsson agreed to talk with him. As a result, Earl Alfgar has become reconciled to the King and has been given back his earldom of East Anglia without either punishment or conditions.’

‘Alfgar guessed right,’ Thorfinn said slowly.

‘So it would seem. Earl Harold has had Hereford refortified, but that is all. His brother Tostig, I gathered, was furious. Of course, if Earl Harold and his father hadn’t expelled the best of the Normans four years ago, Osbern and the rest would have thrown Alfgar back with no trouble, and Earl Siward would have found his war against you, my lord, a good deal easier. So, apparently, Tostig is saying. I was asked, of course, if you knew what Earl Alfgar was doing.’

‘And you made me seem friendless again,’ Thorfinn said.

Tuathal said, ‘I said, my lord, that, being cut off from the south, you heard
little but rumours, and Earl Alfgar had not been in communication. I said that you have been fortunate enough to be able to reopen some trade overseas, and that I was to tell him that you were not short of money or weapons or other things, as he could see from my garments. He smiled and said that it was only right that the most reverend Bishop of the holy church of Alba should have a fragment, at least, of what was due to his rank. He asked me what I felt about my new position, on which he congratulated me.’

‘Tuathal—’ said Thorfinn.

‘So I said, my lord King,’ said Tuathal, ignoring it, ‘that I had to confess disappointment. I had hoped when in Rome to see some conversion of the spirit, but, although great promises had been made to the Pontiff, none of them had been carried out, and particularly none of those relating to my lord King’s personal faith. I said I was unhappy about this. I also said I had awaited this preferment for a long time, and had thought to have a larger see than now, it appeared, was to be available to me. My lord, I am sorry.’

‘Stop apologising,’ said Thorfinn, ‘and go on.’

‘We talked of bishops, and the favours they might expect from those in power,’ Tuathal said. ‘He told me that when Earl Alfgar was reinstated, an order was made revoking the appointment of Bishop Hermann to Malmesbury, which, as you know, would have given him great power south of the Severn and in Sheriff Alfred’s area. He did not say if this was a condition of Earl Alfgar’s return. But Bishop Hermann, seemingly, was much upset and has abandoned both Ramsbury and his nephew and crossed the seas to take a monk’s habit for three years at St Bertin’s. Bishop Ealdred is to supervise his Wiltshire see in his absence, in addition to his own. Bishop Ealdred’s example, I was given to understand, was one to follow.’

‘You seem to be following it,’ said the King. ‘He didn’t speak of Bishop Ealdred’s late mission to Cologne?’

‘There was a joke,’ said Tuathal, ‘which I did not entirely follow. Have you ever thought it possible, my lord King, that Bishop Ealdred and the Abbot might have been sent to the Emperor with two sets of orders? One, we know, was to request the return of the family of Saxon heirs, the Athelings, whom Earl Harold thought, clearly, he could make use of. But that might not have suited King Edward.’

‘You mean King Edward might be capable of action of his own?’ Thorfinn said. ‘Certainly, his half-sister married the Emperor.’

‘And he has helped the Emperor in the past. It was my impression,’ Tuathal said, ‘that in private Bishop Ealdred might have asked the Emperor to do something quite different. Such as to temporise agreeably over the return of the Athelings while making quite sure that they remained in obscurity until King Edward wished it. Scandlain, in his chatter with the household, said he received the same impression.’

‘Scandlain, too?’ Thorfinn said. ‘What did Scandlain learn?’

‘A good deal,’ Tuathal said. ‘He says they talked in their cups, and so it’s likely to be true. He says Northumbria lost over fifteen hundred men against us last year, and nearly that number again with the flux afterwards. No one
wants more fighting at present. They’re grumbling already at having to follow Tostig south when he wants them. He says that my lord Malcolm knows that if he is to take Alba, he must do it by winning over the men already in Alba, and he is finding it difficult. He says, my lord, that Malcolm has told them that the only way for every man to get what he wants, without having to fight, is to bring him your head. There is a price of three hundred pounds of gold on it.’