Macbeth the King (17 page)

MacDowall meantime was hastening up the west side, pursued by MacBeth, Harald Cleft Chin and Somerled. He would perceive that he had lost his second force. He would have barely 600 men left. His only chance, undoubtedly, was to reach and hole up in his hill-top fort and hold out until his full Galloway manpower rallied to his aid.

But even that was not so simple, with Thorfinn, before his waterside battle was finished, sending his same fleet-footed detachment running round the north end of the loch to try to reach the fort-hill before its owner. They did not quite manage this, but got there in time so to disrupt the ascent of the steep slope that MacDowall had to turn there and fight them off. This was the position when MacBeth came up.

It was no place for a powerful attack; but on the other hand it was too steep for any co-ordinated defence either—not fighting terrain at all. The defenders were able to roll down some loose rocks, which did cause casualties amongst the Vikings; but otherwise it was a case of catch-as-catch-can, every man for himself.

With their enemy so close behind, there was a further complication for the Galwegians when they reached the top of the hill. The fort, being constructed to keep attackers out, had high walls of stone topped by iron spikes, and only one narrow entrance. Now these defences proved to be almost as much of a problem to the Galloway men as to their assailants. They had to queue up to get in at the gate. In consequence, fierce fighting developed just outside. This was still in progress when Thorfinn arrived, in panting wrath.

That was enough for MacDowall, already inside. He had the massive gates slammed shut and barred—leaving those of his folk outside to their fate. Clearly he was a man with very definite priorities. One way or another he had lost all but a hundred or two of his host.

The invaders were now faced with an intractable problem. This fort was strong, in its position and structure as in defensive system and theory. Almost certainly it would have its own draw-well, deep as this must be. MacDowall might have left most of his people outside, but that might even be to his advantage now since he would not have to feed them. So long as he had sufficient men to man the walls—which seemed likely. Smoke would not be apt to serve here—although it might be used to screen part of an all-out assault.

At least, MacDowall did not appear to have any bowmen. The Viking host sat down around the fort to consider the situation—most of it at the bottom of the hill since there was no room for them at the top.

MacBeth, who possessed a clear mind in most matters, put the position to his impatient brother and the others. "Time in this is important for us only in one respect—that the Galloway men do not come to MacDowall's rescue in too great numbers. Time for them to muster. Were it not for that, we might starve him out. We have no great need for haste. If we can prevent the Galloway hosts from coming here, or even assembling together, then MacDowall will have to yield."

"Any fool could see that. But how is it to be done, man?"

"Go to them, instead of waiting for them to come to you. Send out your envoys. Guarded by companies strong enough to protect them—a hundred or two. You do not require a great many here. You could send eight or ten parties. The Gallowaymen would be loth to attack the like, with your name on them, without themselves being strongly mustered. Use Sween Kennedy. Send them to all towns, centres, properties. Proclaiming that you have put down MacDowall in the name of King Duncan. That Sween here is now Lord of Galloway again..."

"Sween—no! I will be Lord of Galloway. Sween can act my deputy—only that." Thorfinn grinned at Kennedy. "Eh, Cousin?"

That young man shrugged.

"As you will," MacBeth went on. "But send out your parties. As though you had already conquered Galloway. Forthwith. I think that these people will not rally against the Earl Thorfinn if they believe the fight lost already. And MacDowall will be left to fall like a ripe apple."

Thorfinn could think of no better strategy, so the thing was agreed. And no sooner that than he was organising it. The grass was never allowed to grow under the Raven Feeder's feet. Bands were sent out to capture sufficient of the sturdy Galloway ponies in which the land abounded. His envoys should ride, not march. Prisoners were questioned as to the whereabouts of the main towns, villages and populations of the province, spokesmen selected and instructed. The first were on their way before nightfall, leaving the invading host encamped around Cul-caigrie Hill.

So commenced a strange interlude, an almost unreal period of quiet and inactivity in the warm August days, an experience practically unique for the Vikings and a major trial for Thorfinn Sigurdson, who swore that he had never spent so long in one place during a hosting, and hoped not to do so again. He did not, in fact, sit idle. He ranged the country round about, on a small Galloway horse, looking rather ridiculous with his long legs trailing the ground. He rode with his scouting parties. He visited the nearest townships. He went hunting, fishing. And morning and evening he climbed the hill to shout at MacDowall to surrender. Or else to come out, like a man and settle their differences in single combat, by sword or axe or bare hands. If he, MacDowall, won, by any saint he cared to name, or Thor and Odin if he preferred it, Thorfinn swore that he should march away where he would, unmolested. He achieved never a word in reply.

So passed four days and four nights. And on the fifth day, the unexpected happened. Guards at the top of the hill came running down to announce that there was uproar within the fort. Thorfinn was off ranging the land, and MacBeth climbed up to see what was to do, after putting the camp on the alert. Shouting was still going on inside the walling; and presently men appeared at the wall-top, gesticulating, calling out, to the besiegers. They apparently were anxious to come over, to desert the fort. But understandably were afraid of their reception. MacBeth called reassurances.

About a score of men got over, dropping down from the wallhead, before the move was stopped from within. Some died in the process, many were wounded. Their story to MacBeth was one of resentment. MacDowall was a harsh master. He executed men for the slightest fault. He had abandoned their comrades outside the fort. Conditions within were bad, particularly as to water. There was a well, deep under the hill, but the dry weather had sapped its supply and there was only a muddy trickle coming up in the bucket—and this was being reserved almost wholly for the lord and his wife and children, who had been brought into the fort earlier. In pleading for their lives, the deserters revealed that there was a structural weakness in the defences. A portion of the stonework at the north-west corner was in danger of collapsing at the base—probably again owing to the dry weather and the consequent erosion of the soil there, at the edge of the steep slope. They were having to shore it up inside. But it might be quarried away from the outside.

MacBeth moved round the hill to the point indicated, to investigate. Sure enough, the masonry of the fort there, where it came close to the edge, was crumbling away, with something like an incipient landslide of the underlying earth. But even as he peered and probed, stones and rocks were hurled down from the wallhead, so that he had to make a hasty retreat. He returned to the hill-foot to consider the matter.

When Thorfinn got back later in the day, his brother had a scheme to propose. They should contrive a number of large shields, shelters, made of thornwood branches covered in cowhides, with supports—rather like tables. These would be held up, under the walling, by men, whilst others worked under their cover to loosen and break down the stonework. They would require to be strong, to withstand the battering of rocks from above; and many would be needed, to provide adequate protection some way down the slope. Working conditions would be difficult, in that steep place, but not impossible.

Thorfinn, enthusiastic, sent men off to collect tough branches, and skin cattle, straight away. They would work through the night.

In the morning, while the main host set up a great diversionary noise all around the fort, the shield-bearers and stone-quarriers went to work at the north-west corner. They were quickly discovered, of course, and assailed with rocks. But the threat of action elsewhere undoubtedly preoccupied the defenders—and probably the fort's weakness having obviously been divulged, this affected the morale also. Moreover, the shields worked very well and the men beneath were able to operate steadily, with a constant stream of dug-out masonry and filling rolling away down the slope. There were few major casualties.

In only a short time more men were appearing at the wall-head, eager to desert. Thorfinn shouted welcome to them all, and added insults and dire threats towards MacDowall. He also advised the would-be surrenderers to open the fort gate and let them in, to save further trouble.

They did not do this. But thick as the walling was, relays of workers had a sizeable gap made at the angle before long. This would be defended strongly inside, no doubt; so the attackers built fires around it, where they could, at the head of the slope, adding reeds from the marsh to set up clouds of brown smoke. The updraught, the westerly wind and the formation of the ground, caused much to pour in at the gap.

Thorfinn himself led the way in, through the thick smoke and the gapped masonry. Once inside, however, there was little resistance, most of the garrison being content to throw down their arms in a hopeless situation. But there was a small central redoubt, on the hill's summit outcrop, walled around, and to this the attackers saw that MacDowall, his family and two or three others had retired. Thorfinn bellowed eloquently as to what he would do to his enemy when he got up there. The Lord of Galloway shook his fist, wordless.

The earl, and all others, were unprepared however for MacDowall's ultimate move. As the Vikings began the last short ascent—and it was abundantly clear that nothing could stop them—he suddenly turned on his three children with his sword, as they stood near, the eldest no more than ten years. Three mighty swipes, without pause between, and he had decapitated them cleanly, expertly, with scarcely a sound out of them—for he was a notable executioner. Then he swung on his cowering, staring wife. Her outstretched hands did not save her. This time he clove right down through the skull to the very breast-bone. As she collapsed in red spouting ruin, he turned again, grimacing, to face Thorfinn and the nearest Orkneymen, now faltering in their climb in something like horror. Tearing off his armoured tunic, he thrust out his dripping sword, hilt first, to one of his chieftains standing there, commanding him to hold it firm. Then, yelling curses on Thorfinn and all his kind, he ran forward, to hurl himself upon the sharp point with all his strength. He was not dead when the earl came up to bend over the twitching body, but almost so.

"You die better than you lived, man," Thorfinn said, deep-voiced. "We will settle our differences another day, perhaps, hereafter!"

The other's glazing eyes closed.

* * *

The very next morning the messenger from Thorkell Fosterer arrived at Culcaigrie, via Kirk Cuthbert. He had come 400 miles, at the top speed of a fast birlinn, with his news. Duncan the King had deceived them once more. Scarcely had the earl left the Pentland Firth than Duncan had sent an army north. He had actually made his sister's son, Matain mac Caerill, the Thane of Buchan, Mormaor of Caithness and Sutherland in Thorfinn's stead, and sent him up with some 3000 men to take over the two mortuaths in the Earl's absence.

Thorfinn's explosion of wrath was frightening to behold, even for his own brother.

Thorkell Fosterer had gathered together a scratch force of Vikings in Orkney, brought them across the firth, and caught Matain mac Caerill near Thurso; and after a tough fight defeated him. But the invading host had been split at the time, with a large section away raiding in the west, in Sutherland. Matain had fled, to rejoin these, with the remnant of his troops; and Thorkell, having suffered heavy casualties, and himself wounded, was in no state to seek to inflict a second defeat. He urged Thorfinn's immediate return.

Such urging was scarcely necessary. The earl was planning his moves even as the courier spoke. He would sail from Kirk Cuthbert with 2000 men, just as soon as he could get them there and embarked. His oarsmen would have him back in the Pentland Firth inside three days and nights if they burst their hearts doing it, and he would cleanse his lands of the Thane of Buchan and all his crew—aye, and then deal with Duncan mac Crinan. MacBeth would stay here, with the other thousand, to widen and deepen their hold on Galloway.

His brother demurred. If Matain had marched north from Buchan, he would have to have passed through Moray and Ross. God knew what havoc he might have created there. Duncan loved him, MacBeth, no more than Thorfinn, and would not have instructed his nephew to spare his lands. He was for returning home as quickly as any. Duncan had fooled them with this Galloway expedition, to get them out of the way, both of them. He had to go back. Thorfinn would have to leave somebody else in charge in Galloway.

In the end they left Harald Cleft Chin and Somerled mac Gillaciaran. With MacDowall's death they should have little difficulty in consolidating the Viking hold on the province.

Thankfully MacBeth found
all well at Spynie, with no troubles to report. The Thane Matain had indeed marched through Moray, Neil Nathrach agreed, but had been sufficiently discreet about it to choose an unobtrusive route through the uplands of Braemoray, and seemed to have kept his men under control. Probably he was a cautious man, and did not want the land hostile behind him in case of any forced retiral. Neil had not felt strong enough to deny him passage and to provoke major fighting, in MacBeth's absence. Forby he had come in the name of the High King. He had not announced his business in heading north, but it was apparent that it must be against Thorfinn.

Gruoch and Ingebiorg had been perturbed, of course, but not unduly so, since they seemed to have infinite faith in their respective lords. Now that the brothers were back in the north, the wives were flatteringly reassured. MacBeth suggested that Ingebiorg stay on at Spynie meantime.