Margaret the Queen (65 page)

By-passing the great castle of Bamburgh, Cospatrick's old home, and where Malcolm had passed much of his boyhood, held against them now and impregnable, the army reached the Aln before the first reactions of the enemy became evident. Near Alnwick town, four miles inland from the mouth, where the river became bridge-able, the Scots scouts sent back the report that the bridge was held against them, but that a party waited on the far side under a white flag, and were asking for the King of
Scots.

Malcolm and his leadership-group rode forward.

A company of armoured knights sat their horses at the far bridge-end. As well as the flag-of-truce they bore other banners, the largest of which, as Cospatrick pointed out, was his own rightful emblem of Northumbria. But they did not recognise Sir Robert de Moubray there. Drawing rein at their own bridge-end, a Scots spokesman shouted to ask who was there and what they might want with the High King of Scots?

Two men rode some way nearer. One called back. "I am Morel, nephew and steward to Robert, Earl of Northumbria. And this is Sir Geoffrey en Gulevant, Lieutenant Governor. My lord Earl requests audience of Your Highness."

"To what purpose?" Malcolm himself asked curtly.

"He desires to know your intentions, Sire, on behalf of King William, and submit proposals."

"I will put my proposals to King William myself — with my sword in my hand!" Malcolm gave back. "If he will present himself. Where is he?"

"The King's Grace has been marching north through Cleveland, Highness. He is now at Durham, moving on to Tyne. He has sent requesting my lord Earl to discover your reasons for bringing so great an armed host into his realm."

"If he needs others to ask such a question, then he is a fool as well as an insolent!" the King said. "He will discover from myself, in due course."

"No doubt, Sire. But he, King William, has authorised my uncle to discuss terms with you, whereby you may meet together and any differences be resolved without bloodshed. He has certain offers to make."

"Does he offer open apology, before all men, for the insults he laid upon me at Gloucester?"

"I know not, Sire. My lord Earl has not revealed to me the terms
of
King William's message. Save that it concerns Northumbria and Cumbria."

"Why has your precious uncle not himself come to ask this, man? Instead of sending a steward to bespeak me!"

"He is at Alnmouth, my lord King. He is meantime stricken with a sickness. He believed that Your Grace would wish to hear King William's proposals from
his
lips rather than my humble ones."

"So he would have me, the King, ride to him at this Alnmouth? As insolent as his master!"

"Not so, Highness. But since he cannot ride to you . . . And it is not far to Alnmouth — but four miles. He offers you fullest hospitality."

Frowning,
Malcolm
looked at his lieutenants.

"No harm in going," Cospatrick said. "If we hear what Rufus is offering we may better gauge his intentions."

"It may be but a trick. To delay us," Angus objected. "To allow William to win closer. To gain a better field to fight on. Have Moubray fetched in a litter, if what he has to say is so important."

"Quicker to go to him, Father," Prince Edward put in.

"Yes, is it more comfortable to your royal dignity to sit here waiting for him, than to go there . . . ?" Cospatrick was asking, when they were interrupted. A thane from the rear pushed his way through the leaders' party, with a weary-looking, travel-worn courier in tow.

"A message from the Queen, Highness," he cried. "Ill tidings. . ."

The man blurted it out. The disaffected Highland chiefs had risen, on hearing that the King and his army had left Scotland, and they had been joined in revolt by the men of Moray and Ross and others hostile to the regime. They had taken Scone and Dunsinane and Stirling and were marching on Edinburgh. Donald Ban was at their head, supported by none other than the young Prince Edmund. The Queen had moved from the monastery of St. Ninian at Edinburgh up into the fortress of Dunedin. She urged the King's return to Scotland.

Much shaken by this news, Malcolm and those around him were momentarily at a loss. The King swore loud and long. His sons called for an immediate retiral; their mother might be in danger. Cospatrick declared that such would be folly at this stage, when they had Rufus prepared
to
talk terms. Settle with him first, gain back Cumbria and perhaps even Northumbria, then return and deal with the rebels. Donald Ban was no fighter anyway. It was unlikely that the revolt would come to anything, for these Highlanders and Moraymen would soon be at each others' throats. Madach demurred. Many would support Donald Ban, considering that he should have been king. The Moraymen had remained on good terms with the Orkney earls, MacBeth's kinsmen. If
they
were to sail to their aid, possibly throw Galloway in against the King, this army might never win back to Scotland if it delayed now.

During this hurried debate the Englishmen waited at the other end of the bridge.

Malcolm made up his mind. They would go see Moubray and discover Rufus's proposals. Depending on what these were, he would decide whether to continue onwards, turn back for
Scotland
, or send only part of his force back.

When it was shouted to the waiting knights that the King of Scots would ride to Alnmouth, Morel called back that he was gratified. He advised, however, that they used the north bank of the river, not his side. It would cut off a series of bends and save time. They could ford the Aln back to the south side easily enough near the mouth. Malcolm agreed to this. But Madach, suspicious of trickery, suggested that they ought to move perhaps half of the army across this bridge meantime, in case it was all a delaying tactic, and whilst the King was away at Alnmouth the main English force might move up and seek to hold this river-line against them.

This was considered to be good sense, and as soon as the English party came trotting across the bridge, the Scots started moving in the opposite direction.

Most of the leadership group accompanied the King and their guides eastwards, plus a suitable escort of about seventy men. Madach was left in charge at the bridge, but Maldred went along with Cospatrick and the young princes, with the King.

At first the knight Morel sought to talk volubly with Malcolm; but getting little encouragement from that morose monarch, he presently gave up the attempt and rode on in silence. His colleague, Sir Geoffrey en Gulevant, had not opened his mouth throughout.

They cut inland from the river, through wet meadow-land mixed with scrub woodland, occasionally having to detour real marsh and fen. If this side was easier and quicker going, Maldred reckoned that the other must be bad indeed — although it did not look it from any distance. Presently, with the river swinging away to the north, from a slight eminence they could see the country opening before them to a wide and almost landlocked bay, into which, after a major meander, the Aln obviously emptied itself. The sea lay beyond. There was considerable denser woodland to cross before that bay was reached, however.

It was when they entered these woods, which appeared to flank both sides of the Aln, that Morel said they must turn down to the ford, to save following all the river's wide bend. It shallowed here, he assured. He explained that although the township of Alnmouth was on this north side of the estuary, his uncle was installed in the monastery on the south side, so they must cross.

Through the close woodland they rode down to the river. The ford proved to be not so very shallow, the water up to the horses' bellies; and wide too, fully eighty yards across. But Morel led the way in confidently enough, declaring that the monks used it constantly.

Maldred and Cospatrick, just behind the King and his two sons, were two-thirds of the way over when pandemonium erupted. Without warning a shower of arrows winged down upon the splashing Scots from both sides of the river and as horses reared and toppled, kicking and screaming, armed men by the hundred burst out of the cover of bushes and trees, swords, spears and axes in hand. Front and rear they hurled themselves into the water against the floundering company. Behind them mounted knights and men-at-arms appeared everywhere in the woodland.

Malcolm's horse was one of the first to fall, pierced by no fewer than five arrows, obviously the principal target. As the King was pitched head-long into the water, crowned helmet flying, the man Morel swiftly drew sword and slashed downwards, twice, thrice. A great gash opened on the victim's grizzled head and he sank below the surface, blood staining the current to join that of his mount.

Cospatrick was down too, an arrow through his throat, horse thrashing beside him. Reeling, staggering on the slippery pebbles of the bed, seeking to tug out the shaft, he gazed up at Maldred desperately. He tried to speak, could not, and pointed urgently instead, not at the King, nor where the King had been, nor at their betrayers, but at the two young princes, shocked, bewildered and trying to control their plunging, lashing mounts.

Maldred himself was unhurt, his horse likewise, having been part-hidden behind the others. His first impulse was to leap down to Cospatrick's aid, but the sheer command and authority in the dying man's eyes constrained him. Again the Earl stabbed a finger at the princes — his last act on this mortal scene, as his knees gave way and he collapsed into the swirling river.

Maldred sought to pull himself together. He found that he had drawn his sword. The King's body was drifting away slowly in the current, weighed down by its gold scale-armour. Clearly Malcolm was dead. Everywhere around was savage, hopeless fighting, Morel and Gulevant now turned and leading the attack from this south bank.

Dragging his terrified horse round, he raised his sword and made a furious slash at Gulevant — and had the satisfaction of seeing that knight's shoulder droop within his armour and his sword fall splashing from nerveless fingers. But with the men who swarmed out at them from this south bank almost reaching the princes, he recognised his duty, and Cospatrick's last command. Kicking his mount cruelly, he reined over to where Edward and Edgar were gazing about them helplessly.

"Come!" he shouted. "Nothing to be done here. Quickly. Back. We will . . . avenge them . . . later!"

Edward reacted, pulling his mount round. But Edgar merely stared, appalled.

Reaching out Maldred grabbed the young man's reins and jerked his beast to face the north bank. Across the river, and on that bank also, furious fighting was in progress, the remainder of the Scots party battling valiantly but hopelessly against overwhelming odds. Many had already fallen; the stony bed of a swiftly-running river could hardly have been worsened as a defensive stance — and the sloping river-bank little better. The Earl Dolfin of Cumbria and the Mormaor Malpender of the Mearns were seeking to rally the survivors into some sort of coherence, the former hampered by his brother, the young Cospatrick whom he had hoisted before him on his horse, clearly wounded sorely.

Maldred, splashing up, yelled for them all who could to close in behind him into some sort of formation, the nearest to a wedge that was possible in the circumstances. To cut their way back and out. Nothing more was possible here — although this surely was self-evident. He was the most experienced soldier there and automatically took charge. Malpender reined his mount over to Maldred's side, slashing down two men who sought to stop him. The two princes and Dolfin managed to pull in behind the older men, and those of the escort who could, ploughed their awkward way over, to fall in as tightly as possible at their backs, to create something like an arrowhead, for mutual defence, support and impetus.

Maldred did not wait for any late-comers or consolidation. Swinging his sword in figure-of-eight before him, he turned his beast's head half-left, upstream, spurring hard. This ran them into deeper water, leaving the ford's shallows; but at least it had the effect of shaking off their attackers on foot, who were soon out-of-their-depth. When the water became so deep that the horses were all but swimming, they were forced to turn in to the north bank, about one hundred yards up from the ford.

Clambering out on to dry land was a desperate business. The bank was steep and littered with debris and fallen trees; and of course many of the enemy had hurried along to intercept. The wedge formation inevitably got badly broken up, and there were more casualties. But their assailants tended to fight shy of the determined leadership. Maldred, Malpender and Gillibride of Angus who had now joined them, slightly wounded, were veteran sworders, riding close, one-and-two, formidable indeed as they breasted the steep slope, streaming water. Moreover the treacherous ambush had achieved its purpose, with the death of the King and Cospatrick; and men do not usually seek to die for a won cause. So the pressure slackened before the resolute onslaught. But just as a break-through was being achieved, an English footman, before bolting out of the way of the oncoming horsemen, hurled his spear like a javelin. It took Edward, Prince of Strathclyde, full in the chest and, coming from beneath, the point was able to penetrate under the scales of his armoured jerkin and pierced his rib-cage. With a bubbling yell he pitched to the ground.