David the Prince - Scotland 03 (10 page)

"Why not, Uncle - if the lord Robert can do so?" David asked simply. There was a moment's silence at that. Then the Duke spoke.

"Such talk is profitless," he declared. "I have not come all this way to argue with clerics and striplings about my rights — but to
take
them. I am not dependent on the aid of a few Saxons."

"Yet the Saxons, my lord Duke, since they inhabit all the land, however lowly their state now, could of themselves deny you any lasting victory," Anselm said. "Even if you won battles, they could starve your armies behind you, whilst you fought your brother in front. And Henry will fight, be sure of that. He summons all his power, near and far — although he hopes not to use it against his own kin. In the name of Almighty God, I beseech you, consider what you do. And consider this England which you would drench with blood."

"Not I, but Henry. He is the usurper, not I. Would you have me to turn back now, empty handed? I, Robert fitz William, like some cur denied bone."

"Not empty-handed, my lord. Nor turn back. King Henry would have you to come on, to be his favoured guest, you and yours, in brotherly amity. In token whereof. . ." The Archbishop turned and waved hand.

Two of the escort, at his sign, led forward a pair of heavy pack-horses laden with wicker panniers. The soldiers bent to throw open the covers of these. Inside were iron-bound chests. In turn the lids of these were raised to reveal them filled with gold and silver pieces. There was an involuntary murmur from the company opposite.

"King Henry recognises wel
l that your interests have suf
fered in all this, my lord," the Archbishop went on. "He would show his regard and sympathy, as best he can. There are three thousand gold pieces here, and as much again in silver. He gives this, freely. Take it now. There is as much again awaiting you at Winchester, if you care to come - and to send back your armed force here. Back to their boats at Itchen-mouth!"

Robert's face was a study. He could not keep his eyes off the shining gold and silver. He actually licked his rather slack lips. But at the same time he frowned in doubt and indecision.

"If
...
if I was king all this, and more, would be mine, anyway," he said. He looked around him, at Edgar Atheling and the others, for guidance, support.

He got little, all having eyes only for those chests. Gold, vast amounts of yellow gold, can have an extraordinary effect on even resolute men, especially professional adventurers such as the Normans.

"If your lordship won the war. And survived," Anselm pointed out, mildly. "And if all was not squandered or looted by then. This is yours
now.
Moreover, King Henry suggests that a pension would be fair and convenient. A sum, perhaps five hundred gold pieces, paid each year, for the rest of your lordship's days. From the English Treasury."

That clinched the matter. Robert, essentially lazy, indolent, was not the man to resist such a comforting notion, moneys coming to him without effort until his dying day, without responsibilities, the responsibilities of a kingdom to win and rule.

"So be it," he nodded. "That is just and proper. I shall repair to Winchester further to discuss the matter with my brother."

"I applaud your decision, my lord Duke. We all do. And this host, here — it will turn back?"

"Yes. Some hundred or two will accompany me, as is suitable, the remainder will go back and await my return to Itchen-mouth. That is best . . ."

More than the choristers had something to sing about on their way back to Winchester.

4

The months
and into years that followed were full ones, as David grew to manhood, full for all in England, an England on the move. For Henry was something new in kings, not just a warrior and master of strategy like his father, nor yet a tyrant and self-indulger like his brother, but a man of ideas and vision, something of a statesman, with vehement notions of
justice; yet strong, with little that was gentle about him, indeed much of the family harshness, so that even the boldest, brashest and most powerful of his lords thought twice and thrice before countering him - and few could be more powerful, bold and brash than some of the great Norman earls whom the Conqueror had created out of his companions-in-arms, even though they had been but the sons of grooms and sergeants in their native Normandy, some owning as many as two hundred former Saxon manors scattered over England. Such men were not easy to rule, especially with Henry seeking to raise up again the down-trodden and dispossessed Saxons, so that all his strength and much of his harshness was in fact necessary-even though David mac Malcolm for one could not bring himself to accept cruelty as a deliberate instrument of rule, as Henry appeared to have no difficulty in doing. They remained friends, and the King took the young man into his confidence and sought his advice on occasion — his credit had been much enhanced by his part in the Robert interlude — and they remained fairly close. But there were occasions, and aspects of policy, where they could scarcely have been further apart in altitude. Not that Henry allowed this to deflect his chosen course in any great -degree - for after all, David was only the Queen's young brother, landless and essentially insignificant. In such periods of what was almost estrangement, Maud — as she had now to be called by all, even her brother — held them together. For Henry was devoted to his wife, her influence greatly to the good, although even she did not always find it easy to live in amity with one of the implacable Norman breed. As, for instance, when Henry insisted on bringing his illegitimate daughter Sybilla over from t
he Cotentin, to join his Court,
begotten in his youth and now a pert and arrogant sixteen-year-old, cause of strife from the moment she arrived.

But Henry's virtues much outdid his failings, however heavy-handedly. He restored the Saxon laws, as to the reign of Edward the Confessor, David's and Maud's great-grand-uncle, abolishing the many penal prohibitions and extortions which had made life a misery for the subjugated race. He laboured continually to improve the quality of justice dispensed throughout the land - a difficult task indeed, with the feudal system giving almost unlimited judicial power to the individual lords - by instituting a great many itinerant justices, with the royal authority. He consistently supported the Church, and used the bishops as his ministers and advisers -though this was undoubtedly on account of their education rather than out of any religious enthusiasm on his own part, for he had a great respect for learning and books - indicated by his father's nickname for him of Beauclerc - and most of his baronage could not so much as write their own names. He much reduced taxation - which did much please the said barons — and encouraged merchants and traders.

When Maud in due course produced a daughter, Henry suppressed his disappointment notably, and named the child Maud also.

It was not all progress and peaceful advancement, of course. The almost inevitable revolt of the dissatisfied and warlike Norman nobles took place in the summer of 1102, led by the too-powerful Montgomery brothers, Shrewsbury, Lancaster and Pembroke, Robert de Belleme of Shrewsbury in command. The rising took place in that everlasting trouble-area, the Welsh Marches, where Gruffydd ap Cynan and his people were apt to be more than ready to join in anything which would embarrass their English overlords. Henry managed to put down this rebellion, with major Saxon but precious little Norman support. He exacted a terrible vengeance thereafter - but mainly on the unfortunate Welsh, rather than on the Norman earls who had instigated all, and who quietly made themselves scarce when things went wrong. David went along, to experience his first real taste of war, but saw little of the actual fighting, being on detachment with Hervey's father, the Earl of Surrey, one of the few Normans actively supporting the King, capturing a troublesome castle in the Forest of Clun, when the vital battle took place twenty-five miles to the north, near Haughmond Abbey. He saw plenty of the aftermath, however, the hangings and maimings and eye-gougings, and in due course returned to Winchester sickened, further estranged from his brother-in-law than ever he had been. It took a lot of his sister's quiet persuasion — she was already being called the Good Queen Maud on account of her patience and charity - to bring him to accept Henry's point of view as perhaps forgive-able, and to recognise the special pressures and problems bearing upon a monarch. And Henry was, after all, a Norman of the Normans, reared in a hard school. The wonder was, Maud pointed out, that he should be so good and enlightened as he was. He had not had the advantages of being brought up by a sainted mother.

David sought to swallow his resentment, if not his aversion to savagery and cruelty, even though perpetrated in the name and cause of justice and the realm's well-being. But he did question Henry himself on why the Montgomery brothers and other Norman barons were let off so lightly, only a token part of their lands confiscated and temporary exile imposed. The King had to admit that he dared do no other, just dared not offend the Norman baronage too greatly, in which his ultimate power rested. David had to accept that. He had no option, anyway, for he was wholly dependent on Henry — unless he went back to Scotland, where Edgar evinced no signs of wanting him. Apparently his brothers already there, Alexander, Ethelred and Edmund, were sufficient problems in their various ways.

But when, a year later, Maud was delivered of another child, and a fine healthy boy this time, Henry's delight spilled over on to David, indeed on to all around. A male heir to the throne was what was required before all, for the security of the dynasty. Henry named the child William after the Conqueror but adding that he would be called The Atheling, to the astonishment of all. Atheling was the Saxon word meaning heir apparent; but it had more or less become adopted as the surname of Edmund Ironside's descendants. This using of the term as official title for a Norman prince was significant, a major gesture towards the Saxons and a bid for unity in the kingdom. Maud was as pleased as she was surprised, and David himself was touched. Relations improved again.

One day the following May, Henry sent for David to attend on him in his private chamber, alone. He was just back from a visit to his manor of Woodstock, which his mother had left him and of which he was fond - indeed he talked of leaving Winchester, which he considered as far too far south for convenience and security, and residing either in London or Woodstock, the New Forest not drawing him as it had done his father and brother.

"David - I have been considering sundry matters whilst I have been away," he announced. "I have come to the conclusion that you may be able to help me in one, at least, of these. More especially as I have felt for some time that you were seeming to champ somewhat on the bit, to be restless. You are a man now, to be sure, and should be given a man's part to fill."

Warily David waited, without comment.

"I have also been considering the state and situation of my daughter Sybilla," the King went on - and ignored the younger man's quick intake of breath. "She should be wed. She is a spirited piece and could well do with a husband to master her. Given a firm hand she will, I am sure, make a good wife."

"No!" David exclaimed. "Your pardon, Sire - but no! Not that, not myself! I beg you
..."

Henry narrowed his eyes. "Are you so averse to her - my daughter? Or
...
is it marriage itself that you mislike?"

"No. Or. . . not yet. I do not
...
I would not wish to wed, as yet. Wed anyone. One day, no doubt. But not, not . .

"Not the Lady Sybilla?"

"No, Sire. Not the Lady Sybilla."

"You think so ill of her?"

"Say - that we have little in common. And she has no fondness for me - that I swear! An ill match, it would be, from the start."

"The sons and daughters of kings, David, cannot always choose their mates so nicely, like lesser folk."
"You
did"

"M'mm. I was particularly fortunate. However, my candid friend, you go too fast. It is not to you that I propose to marry my daughter, landless and lacking fortune as you are. I must do better than that for my Sybilla! I look . . . further north!"

In his relief, David scarcely heeded the significant note in Henry's voice.

"Tell me of your brother Edgar," the King went on. "I saw him only those two days, at the Crown-wearing. He had never married. He must be thirty years? He has no heir but his brother, Alexander. Does he hate women, like
my
brother William did? Has he any natural children?"

David shook his head. "I do not know. I think not. I know of no children. I fear that I know Edgar little better than you do, Sire. We have been reared apart. I have never heard that he mislikes women - or, or was of that sort. But I have never heard his name linked with any woman's."

"So says Maud. But in her nunnery she might not have heard. Edgar is King of Scots. It would be of great advantage to both realms, would it not, of the King of Scots was to wed the King of England's daughter? A most suitable match."

David reserved his opinion on that. Sybilla was only a bastard after all.