Margaret the Queen (6 page)

There, at the foot of the eastern spine of the central mound, was the first line of defence, a moat, water drawn from the burn that threaded the valley, with a drawbridge. Here the chief steward awaited them, to conduct them through a gatehouse-pend in the perimeter walling and up the slope, zigzagging, to a point where the spine had been cut through laterally with a wide and deep trench or dry ditch, across which was a second drawbridge. Beyond this, the first of the buildings arose, all stone here, with an arched and fortified entrance to an elongated narrow central courtyard. Within the entrance a young woman stood, backed by attendants.

"Greetings, Highness," Maldred called, strongly. "The lord King sends his royal salutes." Which, in fact, was a lie; Malcolm had not so much as mentioned his wife. "I bring the Prince Edgar of England, his lady-mother and sisters and some of their people. Seeking your royal clemency and aid.. In flight from Duke William." He turned. "The Queen's Highness, the Lady Ingebiorg Thorfinnsdotter."

"I thank you, cousin," the Queen answered gravely. "My husband is well? Good. I greet the Prince Edgar again, warmly. And bid the princesses welcome to my house." She was a fresh-faced, round-featured, big-boned creature, not beautiful but pleasant-looking and unassuming, only daughter of the great Thorfinn Raven Feeder, Earl of Orkney. Malcolm had married her soon after attaining the throne on the death of King Lulach, as a politic gesture to ensure that the late Thorfinn's sons did not trouble him as their father had troubled his. They were second-cousins, their grandmothers being sisters, daughters of Malcolm the Second, The Destroyer — although the King was now forty-seven while she was only twenty-five. The marriage could scarcely be called a happy one. Maldred bore the same relationship to the Queen.

The visitors dismounted, to make due obeisance to their hostess and to be led within. The ladies all eyed the Queen interestedly, for her story and Malcolm's behaviour towards her were well known.

"So that is the daughter of the famed Thorfinn the Mighty!" Magdalen of Ethanford said quietly, as she and Maldred followed their principals up the climbing courtyard. "She scarcely looks a female Viking!"

"A pity that she is not more like her sire."

"Why?"

"She might do better, live the happier. She is too gentle for the King."

"Ah. I can believe that he would require steel in a woman. They have no children?"

"Yes. Two princes. There they are, waiting in the tower doorway. With the wolf-hounds. Duncan and Donald."
I
Two small boys, about nine and eight years, watched tne procession, one scowling, one grinning. ] The Queen led her guests not to the tall stark tower that frowned over all from the crest of the mound, but into the doorway of the secondary and lower building on the right — which proved to be really a fairly typical Celtic hall-house attached to the ke
ep but utterly different from it
in style and accommodation, a commodious, comfortable, sprawling establishment. Malcolm had built it on to his tower at his new wife
's urging, when he still paid s
ome heed to her wishes, she hating his Norman keep from the first sight of i
t, however defensively strong.
They came into the great hall of the house, a vast apartment which took up a full half of the entire building, right to the blackened roof-timbers — it had to, in order to allow the smoke from the cen
tral fireplace to be drawn up a
nd escape through the necessary aperture in the roof, flues being impracticable in this timber-and-clay construction. Elsewhere the buildin
g was two-storeyed, with only th
e upper-storey bedchambers having heating. A huge fire of aromatic birch-logs blazed now in mid-hall, scenting as
well
as warming the air notably — but even so the visitors were quickly coughing in the smoke-laden atmosphere. A very long table ran down one side of the chamber, strewn with platters and goblets and the like. For the rest, the place was an untidy litter of benches, coffers, stools, spinning-wheels, rugs, skins, hangings askew and bone-gnawing dogs. It seemed that Queen Ingebiorg was little concerned with keeping a spick-and-span house.

Informed that a meal would be ready for all shortly, the newcomers were taken to their quarters. There was insufficient room in this tiny palace for all the refugee party, and most of the men would have to live either in the monastery or in cottages of the quite large associated township. The Athelings were given upper rooms in the hall-house, whilst stewards took their nobles away to find as acceptable accommodation as possible.

While they were settling in, the Queen spoke privately with Maldred.

"What is the truth of all this, cousin?" she asked. "What does Malcolm want with these? It is not like him. Why are they come? And for how long?"

"I do not know," he admitted. "The King took pity on them. They could nowise sail the Norse Sea in their damaged ship
..."

"Malcolm does not take pity on any — save to his own advantage," she said factually.

"Perhaps. It may be that he sees gain in holding the Atheling here. As threat against Norman William. Something to bargain with."

"And the women? Malcolm has little use for women — save to breed on. I mislike that Agatha, I think. The mother. She has a proud manner."

"They have been told ill of Scotland, Highness. They believe us barbarians, uncouth. Scarcely Christian, indeed! For they are a very holy family. God's name is seldom off their lips. But . . . the Princess Margaret, the fair one, is different. Holy also, but kinder. And stronger too, with more of spirit."

"To be sure. I can see that she is the one who would have men dancing to her tune! I shall watch her! Holy women of her years require watching. Especially when they are beautiful and shaped as she is! So — watch you also, Maldred mac Melmore! And what of my warrior lord? Who is he slaying now? And when does he return?"

"That I know not, cousin. He is gone to Cumbria now. To repel a raid by Cospatrick."

"But Cospatrick is his cousin. And yours. Displaced by the Normans. That Comyn in his place. Why should he raid Cumbria?"

"He has changed sides once more. A str
ange man. And C
omyn is dead. This time, the King will hang him, I think, cousin or none." "Malcolm will enjoy that!"

Maldred glanced sidelong at the Queen, and away. She was seldom so outspoken as this. Something must have roused her.

The young princes came running in, towed by their wolf-hounds. Duncan the elder, aggressive, abrupt, true son of his father; Donald, cheerful, happy but easily hurt,
i
Time for confidences was past.

The next morning Maldred rode eastwards for Kennochy in Fife, to deliver the King's message to the Earl MacDuff. Dunfermline was in Fothrif, the western sector of the great peninsula between Forth and Tay; but the Earl had his main seat at Kennochy twenty miles or so into Fife proper, sufficiently distant not to be too irksomely on the
Ring
's
back but near
enough
to be able to rally swiftly to the royal aid. It was indeed the strong presence here of his powerful friend and ally, MacDuff, which had occasioned Malcolm to desert the traditional royal palaces
of
Fortrenn, in Forteviot and Dunsinane, and to build
his
tower on Fife land at Dunfermline, for reasons of security, the first monarch to have dwelt in Fife. He and MacDuff had been equally unpopular in 1058, jointly responsible for the slaying of the good King MacBeth and then, six months later, of his st
epson and successor, Lulach. M
acBeth's seventeen-year reign had been an unusual and prosperous interlude for S
cotland, and his killers were h
ated. So they had kept together for mutual protection, and lived close these dozen years, whilst memories and old loyalties faded. Malcolm would never be loved or popular, as MacBeth had been — nor, probably would wish to be. But he was a strong King, maintained discipline, had few extravagances — and therefore was not Heavy with his taxes — and was excellent at providing English slaves and bo
ndwomen from his raids in the s
outh.

Kennochy lay almost three hours' ride to the east. Maldred went by the Hill of Beath and the Loch of Gelly, and thereafter, with the long, high ridge of the Lomonds lifting above him to the north, entered the Leven valley by Kinglassie and Goatmilk.

The house of Kennochy, like most other seats of the lords and thanes, was built on the site of an earlier Pictish fort, in a strong defensive position commanding a wide prospect over land and sea. Within the old ramparts of stone and turf rose not so much a rath as a village of hall-houses and their subsidiaries, a self-contained community of some two hundred souls. Here he found Duncan MacDuff, sixth Mormaor and now first Earl of Fife, about to set off hawking in the Myres of Balgonie. He was a big, almost gross, red faced man in his mid-sixties, bull-like, short of neck, choleric. He was not at all pleased with Maldred's arrival and message, for he was essentially a lazy man, disinclined to exert himself. Hawking suited him very well, since little effort was demanded of any but the hawk.

But puff and snort as he would, the Earl was not foolish enough to fail the King's command. If Malcolm needed his services, he more greatly needed Malcolm's support. For although senior noble of the realm and Hereditary Inaugurator at coronations, a Pictish dignity, he had many enemies and was looked upon with suspicion by many of his peers. Apart from being so closely involved in the death of MacBeth, he had fought against the Scots many times, on the English side — as, of course, had Malcolm also — and was trusted by few.

"How many men does the King require? Two thousand?" he grumbled. "I cannot raise the like, in Fife and Fothrif. With what he already has from my earldom. I shall have to send to Lennox and Strathearn and Gowrie. Even Angus and the Mearns. What of your own Atholl, boy?"

"My father has already five hundred with the King."

"Then he will have to find more. What are they for, all these men? What does Malcolm want with so many more? It is not a war he is at!"

"He is teaching Cospatrick a lesson — who has changed sides once again. And he fears that Norman William might come, or send, to Cospatrick's aid. In Cumbria."

"Malcolm should have more sense. At his age. He should bide at home, looking to his kingdom. Instead of traipsing off on unnecessary warfare." Belatedly the Earl asked for his son. "Dufagan? Is all well with him?"

"Well enough, my lord. He is with the King, slaying, burning and raping with the best!" Maldred did not like Dufagan MacDuff.

"Aye. That is Dufa
gan. .

While the Earl went about the business of sending messengers around the land calling for the additional muster, Maldred was afforded refreshment in his hall. The Countess was long dead, and he was entertained by the two remaining unmarried daughters of the house, the Ladies Malvina and Medana, both somewhat older than himself. They made quite a fuss of him — for, because of his unpopularity, their father's house was
little
frequented by folk of their own rank, and personable young men thin on the ground. They were neither of them beauties, but nor were they without their attractions, well-built and quite comely young women, especially the younger. Normally Maldred was far from unappreciative of the excellences and kindnesses of the opposite sex; but today he found himself comparing these two with Margaret Atheling and finding them sadly wanting. Which was perhaps unfair.

He did not linger long at Kennochy, in consequence, before heading back for Dunfermline.

There, the very next day he came to blows, after a fashion, with the same Princess Margaret — with her mother and sister also, to be sure, but Margaret being the more positive character, he identified the clash more with her, however quietly dignified she was about it. It was Sunday, and the day was started fairly early with a procession of Keledei, the Friends of God, wending its way down from the cashel of St. Ternan into Pittencrieff Glen, and then up to the palace courtyard, chanting sweet music of praise — although long before that the customary early morning devotions of the Athelings could be heard emanating from one of the upper rooms. The monks took up their position in the centre of the yard opposite the hall doorway, four brawny specimens depositing a heavy stone altar in the midst, which they had carried down on a sort of poled tray. It was a massive thing, reputedly the blessed St. Ternan's own, richly carved with Celtic floreate crosses, intricate design and fabulous animals, with a hollow scooped in the top, which enabled it to be used as a baptismal font for holy water when necessary. On this old Abbot Ivo reverently placed the communion vessels, the silver flagon of wine, the canister of bread, the bowl and shallow, battered silver spoon. This done, still chanting, the Keledei waited.

Despite the chill east wind and threatening rain, the palace staff — it could scarcely be called a court — with the servitors and cottagers from the rath-toun, mill-toun and farm-touns around, were flooding into the courtyard in cheerful, familiar fashion, children and dogs and laughter all but drowning out the singing. The Celtic Church was not very interested in church buildings, preferring worship to be in the open air. In the great hall the Queen and her immediate household were waiting for their guests. When still these did not appear, she sent Maldred upstairs to remind them that all was ready — although they had been previously informed.