David the Prince - Scotland 03 (18 page)

* * *

The weeks that followed were the most busy and exacting of David's life to date, new experiences, new situations, new decisions to be made every day, and on which no previous experience assisted. One of the very first decisions was not to settle in at the grim stone castle of Caer-luel, which Rufus had ordered to be built when he grasped the province seventeen years before, and still was not fully completed. One look at its stark and gaunt lines, its general air of oppressive and uncompromising discomfort, and he declared that this was no place for him. It might serve well enough as fortress, in time of war, but was not for honest living in. A company of young men were not, of course, over-concerned with bodily comfort and delicate living; but David had an eye for beauty and the graces of life, and saw no point in accepting harsh conditions when not necessary. Dolfin - who was no soldier either, to be sure - had lodged in the monastery of St. Nicholas, as had his uncle before him. David settled there also, Prior Ulfwin well content to accommodate him. It was a Benedictine establishment, and not over-strict in its rule. Brother John, David's former tutor and now the chaplain, an enthusiastic adherent of the Cluniac discipline, saw an inspiriting work of reformation ahead of him. There was no room here for all the young Normans, and some must needs bestow themselves in the castle and elsewhere.

Although Henry's commands made it inevitable that military preparedness must be their first priority, David himself did not devote much of his time to soldierly activities. He was trained in knightly practices, as were they all; but he was no dedicated warrior. And he had brought plenty of trained soldiers with him. He left to them the recruiting, training, and marshalling of the men for his new army. Nevertheless these men had to be obtained, in the first place, from the levies, lands, tenants and serfs of the local Cumbrian lords and land-holders; so David had more than sufficient to do in going round and making himself known to these lordly ones, seeking their cooperation rather than heavily acting the viceroy. They represented a great mixture, Normans, Saxons and Celts, both Scots and Welsh, and by no means all rejoicing to see the new Earl, nor anxious to be involved in his regime or in any way interfered with in their hitherto more or less independent affairs. However, with persuasion and tact rather than any sword-rattling, he managed to get most of them to agree to work with him. He found Richard d'Avranches in especial capable and helpful, and bound him and the local Norman element closer to his cause by appointing him his official deputy with the title of viscount, with particular responsibility for the southern part of the province down to the Lancaster border.

All the time, as the summer advanced, they awaited word of the Norsemen. There were plen
ty of reports of the young Earl
Hakon Claw's typical activities from Galloway - even one or two minor raids on Cumbrian coastal districts, hit-and-run affairs which were all but impossible to prevent however much they might call for punishment; but on the wider scene, of major assault and invasion, there was no word. The dreaded Eystein presumably was engaged elsewhere. If some of David's hot-bloooded lieutenants were disappointed in this, spoiling for a fight and somewhat critical of his refusal to let them loose on a retaliatory expedition against Hakon Claw, he himself was thankful for the breathing-space. His forces were growing fairly satisfactorily, so that by August he had some three thousand men under arms; but they were only part-trained and quite unblooded yet, in no state to take on Viking hordes or even the fierce Galloway kerns, acknowledged to be amongst the toughest fighters in Christendom.

Then, at the beginning of September, a messenger arrived from King Henry, with a letter. This informed that there had been serious dynastic trouble in Norway - for which the saints be praised! - which had had the happy effect of clipping somewhat the intolerable Eystein's wings for the time-being. When Magnus Barefoot had died in battle in Ireland, he had left three sons - innumerable more, no doubt, but these three especial in that though they were all by different mothers, each of the ladies believed herself to have been Magnus's lawful wife. These were Eystein, Sigurd and Olaf. More uncomfortable still, the first two were sons of sisters, daughters of the Earl of Saxi. Eystein was the eldest by one year; but Sigurd Half-Deacon was the child of the elder sister. To add to the confusion dynastically, Olaf, much the youngest, was nevertheless the son of the true wife - or at least the lady recognised as such by Holy Church. Since 1103, when the potent Magnus died, this situation had been, as it were, in the simmer, with Eystein, now twenty years, acting King of Norway and his half-brothers lying fairly low. Now conflict had arisen, exacerbated by Eystein's predilection for overseas adventuring, so that he was seldom at home, and Norse affairs neglected. The supporters of both Sigurd and Olaf had risen in arms and there had been much warfare. Now an uneasy compromise had been reached. The kingdom was to be divided between all three, Sigurd to have the northern half,.01af the southern and Eystein all the outlying domains and conquered territories, such as Iceland, the Orkneys, the Hebrides and Ulster. This situation was unlikely to be stable for long; but it accounted for Eystein's lack of aggressive activity that year. However, it might well imply an even increased threat hereafter, when the campaigning season opened again next year, or later, with Eystein possibly more eager than ever for overseas conquests to wipe out his humiliation and increase his dominions. So the need to build up forces in Cumbria was far from lessened. Thus Henry's letter.

He added a postscript which he thought might interest his brother-in-law. The lame Simon de St. Liz of Northampton, of all things, had been bitten belatedly by religion and had gone on the new Crusade. Was it not said that there was no fool like an old fool?

David was indeed interested. In fact his heart sang at the news. At his prayers, at which he was fairly assidious, he had subsequently to ask for strength not to hope that the Earl Simon should meet with a glorious but untimely death in this most excellent of causes. He did permit himself to write a letter, however, to the Countess Matilda, at Earl's Thorpe — a letter which he wrote and rewrote many times - saying that he had heard of this situation and rejoiced that her husband was thus so notably employed, and wishing for the happiest outcome possible for all concerned. He sent his admiration to the lady and his undying devotion.

Henry's news meant no slackening in the great task of recruitment and military training; but it did give David time and opportunity to seek to get to closer grips with the more local situation — since autumn and winter storms were likely to rule out any major high-seas adventures on the part of even Viking invaders. He decided that it was time to do something positive about Galloway. But before he did so, he wrote another letter, this time to his brother Alexander. There had been a notable and perhaps ominous silence from the King of Scots regarding this Cumbrian appointment. Alex was no correspondent, but some word or reaction might have been looked for. Cospatrick, who paid them a visit that September, was unable to inform as to the Scots attitude. Lothian, the Merse and Teviotdale welcomed the arrival of David, and a stronger hand at Caer-luel, as adding to their security; but what Stirling, which Alexander was making his chief scat of government these days, might think about it, he had no idea or information. He kept away from the place, by preference; and the King tended to leave the South severely alone.

David wrote, therefore, telling his brother of his own position, explaining how he had rejected Edgar's division of the kingdom, and assuring that he had no thought of claiming any form of rule in Southern Scotland for himself. But he did say that he proposed to do something about Galloway, not in any sort of take-over of the province but merely to try to restore order therein, for Cumbria was suffering. He included the information on Norway which Henry had sent, in case Alexander had not heard of it, adding that it might be a good opportunity for his brother to reassert his authority in the West Highlands. He wished Alex very well and hoped that an heir to the throne might be on the way.

Duty done, he prepared for his first major venture in the sphere of rule and governance.

* * *

On a crisp golden day of early October, David crossed Eden and Esk into Scotland proper, with a small group of his associates and an escort of no more than fifty men - to show that this was no aggressive expedition - and flying the dragon banner of . Cumbria, so similar to that of Wales. They rode due westwards along the Solway plain, the marshy coastal flats on their left, the hills beginning their rise to the right. They splashed across the mouth of the Annan, and on towards the estuary of the Nith, both great rivers coming down by wide straths out of the vast hill mass of Southern Scotland. This country was largely deserted, near the coast, although fertile, showing all the grim signs of raiding and devastation, burnt homesteads, cultivation gone back, abandoned townships, the wilderness taking over. Although the Solway Firth was notoriously shallow, the tidal sands extensive and navigation difficult, the Vikings could sail their shallow-draught longships up the river estuaries and fan out on foot from there. But they were never fond of walking or riding, and seldom went far from their vessels. So the local folk had retired from the seaboard and river mouths up the straths and valleys into the hills. In consequence, David's party scarcely saw a living soul all the way to Dumfries, which lay
at
the foot of Nithsdale, twenty-five miles from the Esk. And there they found the worst ruin of all, quite a large town in blackened desolation, its stockaded defences unavailing against the Norsemen's attacks. Bodies lay or hung everywhere, but these dead were not new, mainly skeletal now. Semi-wild swine rooted and scavenged, but apart from the equally busy birds on like business, that was the only sign of life. For those interested, it was possible usually to tell the men's remains from the women's and children's; for these tended to be headless, the heads being detached and hanging by their long hair in serried rows all around the township's pallisading - typical Viking touch.

After crossing Nith by a wide ford, the party left the coastal belt to proceed up Nithsdale, or Strathnith, some little way, before branching off westwards again over the higher ground, making now for the next valley-system, that of the Water of Urr. And soon they were aware of people, furtive folk who scuttled and hid and watched from cover, cattle hurriedly driven off, only the dogs left to bark at the travellers. Whoever was nominally lord here, it was fear that reigned. Most of the Normans were used to this sort of thing; but David mac Malcolm at least was sickened
at
heart. And this was in his brother's kingdom. Yet his own father, he knew, had enjoyed nothing better than creating just this sort of devastation.

They were some way up into the higher ground of the Duns-core hills, and the well-bred Norman horses, of Barbary stock mainly, making heavy going of the rough wet terrain, when they became aware that they were being followed. Every now and again they caught glimpses of a mounted company, up to a mile back, which did not seem to draw any nearer but which definitely grew in size. Some of David's colleagues were for turning back to challenge these people before they grew any stronger, but he said no.
It
was
their
country, and any initiative must come from them. As a peaceful traveller he was not going to challenge anyone.

In time, however, the shadowing force grew bolder and came on apace, presumably feeling themselves to be sufficiently reinforced, or perhaps now joined by someone in authority. When they were only a quarter-mile or so behind, David drew reign to await them, his armoured
horsemen carefully non-aggresive
as to stance but ready to close in on a signal, for immediate action, swords and maces loosened but not drawn, lances to hand.

The newcomers, when they drew close, proved to be a fierce and distinctly ragged crew, mounted on shaggy garrons but bristling with arms, the typical round Celtic shields, or targes, slung over left arms, perhaps three hundred strong. Their obvious leader, a youngish man, equally wild-looking but better clad in long ponyskin sleeveless jerkin over saffron shirt and short kilt above bare knees and thong-bound calves, carried a great two-handed sword across his thighs. He was red-haired, foxy-looking, keen-eyed.

"Who are you who rides so bold and unbidden over my lands?" he demanded. He spoke in the soft, sibilant Gaelic tongue, but managed to make his question sound sufficiently menacing nevertheless.

It was long since David had spoken Gaelic but he knew it well enough. His father, whose native language it was., had nevertheless discouraged its use; but oddly enough his mother, the Saxon Margaret, had made all her children learn it, since it was the language of the common people and used by their household servants.

"I am David mac Malcolm of Scotland, friend," he said. "Earl of Cumbria for Henry of England. But it is as brother of the King of Scots that I ride through Strathnith."

The other nodded. "I thought that it might be something such," he admitted. "I have heard of the Earl of Cumbria. I am Dunegal mac Murdoch of Strathnith."

"Ah. my lord," David acknowledged, and kneed his horse forward closer to the other's garron, both hands out to grasp the man's forearms in friendly fashion. "Your fame is known to me also. I salute you. I had thought to visit you. After I had seen the Lord Fergus of Carrick."