Macbeth the King (29 page)

Gillapatrick of Rothiemurchus, a young Highlandman of dark good looks and smouldering eye, nodded. "It is well considered, Highness," he said. "Until we win to the Braes of Mar. Then it could be better. A short way up Glen Clunie, takes Glen Callater off to the east. And over the Toll Mounth to the head of Isla. I have taken cattle-droves that way, to the low country, avoiding Atholl's tolls. Down the long Glen of Isla, all the way to Alyth in Strathmore, but five miles east of Blair in Gowrie. In Angus all the way from Mar, just outside Atholl, and land less peopled."

"Good. Excellent. That will aid us. Aye, and enable us to link up with the Angus thanes, in especial Cormac of Glamis. You all agree?"

There was no dissent now, even Neil Nathrach's doubts resolved. Only the Viking Gunnar had a question.

"I have five longships at the Borg," he declared. "How shall I best use them, in this?"

MacBeth shook his head. "It is kind, old friend," he said. "But this is not
your
war. Bide you at Torfness..."

"You call me friend and yet reject the hand I hold out, King MacBeth! I think poorly of that—as will the earl."

"Do not so, Gunnar. I esteem your friendship. See you, if I need your aid, your ships, I will send for them..."

"Lord King," Murdoch of Oykell intervened. "There could be good use for ships, fast ships. Send messengers by sea to Lachlan of Buchan and Martacus of Mar. Aye, and Colin of the Mearns, Cormac of Glamis and the rest. Acquaint them of your march south. But not the route. Have them to muster forthwith. Secretly as far as possible. But not to move until you send word. Then they could be waiting for us, in force, when we reach Strathmore. It could be to double our strength..."

"Yes. Yes—you are right, Murdoch. That is well thought of. Will you do that, Gunnar? Your fast longships as messengers...?"

So it was settled. MacBeth and the vanguard would march the next day—and the longships be gone before then.

* * *

It was a well-armed and fast-moving force of some 2000 that set out for the Spey, mainly mounted on garrons although with some 300 running gillies from the Braemoray uplands. More than twice as many would follow on, but these had not had time as yet to assemble and come from the distant glens of Lochaber, Moidart, Knoydart, Kintail and Wester Ross. The Highland-men were no hindrance to the horsemen as regards pace. On firm and straightforward terrain and beaten tracks they held on to the beasts' manes or the riders' sword-belts, plaids or even legs—for most men rode barebacked—as they ran, seemingly effortlessly. But much of the time they followed their own and more direct routes, over marshland, outcrops, screes and steep mountainside, where horses must detour.

Up the long and fair strath of Spey they went for a score of miles, after crossing the high moors of Braemoray and Dava, and into the great pine-forests of Nethy, Garten and Rothie-murchus. At this last they picked up another 400 Highlanders from the upland thanedoms, Clan Chattan men and noted fighters. More of these would follow, also.

Where the foaming, boiling Feshie rushed down to join Spey, they turned due southwards, to follow that lovely glen deep into the mighty mountain mass of the Monadh Ruadh. In the upper reaches of Feshie it was the running gillies who had to wait for the horsemen, amongst the fallen pines, the boulder-strewn haughs and the winding, climbing deer-paths. Up and up they mounted, by lonely ways which never before had seen a great armed force, almost to the very roof of Drumalbyn, the trees left behind, with the heather beginning to colour the brown and black of the peat-hags, the bog-cotton dancing in the breeze and deer-herds and cloud-shadows adrift across the limitless wastes. The third night out they camped on the lofty watershed between west-flowing Feshie and east-flowing Geldie, at nearly 2000 feet above the sea, in as wild, desolate and empty a country as was to be found in all Scotland. Weary, hungry, coated in peat-mud, men knew now what MacBeth had meant when he said that he would surprise Crinan by the way he brought them. He surprised them all, marching them through this savage although beautiful waterlogged wilderness of the high places. Yet they had averaged over a score of punishing miles a day since leaving Forres; and their monarch had driven himself as hard as he drove them all. They were actually in the very north-eastern corner of Atholl here, with Mar ahead and Moray behind.

Next day they came down, thankfully, to the headwaters of Dee, which rose some eight miles and almost 3000 feet higher to the north, on the summit plateau of towering Braeriach itself. In the pleasant Braes of Mar country they were en-heartened to find reinforcements awaiting them, 600 no less, under young Martacus of Mar himself, now nearing nineteen years, and though still a quiet and studious youth, to be named lacking in wits by none. He brought word that his old enemy Lachlan of Buchan would bring on as many again in a day or two. Gunnar Hound Tooth had lost no time in his message-carrying.

This accession of strength inevitably delayed the march a little so that, despite the easier country, they did not cover quite so great a distance that day, camping at the junction of Glens Clunie and Callater. It was here that they turned off south-eastwards from MacBeth's original projected route, to avoid the more populous lands of Glen Shee and Straths Ardle and Ericht, to probe instead into the high, vacant fastnesses of the White and Toll Mounths, to the headwaters of the fine River Isla, over into Angus. This was almost as trying and tough going as the Monadh Ruadh traverse by Feshie, rising for a few miles almost to the 3000-foot level. They covered little more than a dozen miles that march—but climbed 2000 feet in the process, unusual activity for an army of thousands. Deep in the trough of Glen Isla they halted at Tulchan, with stragglers coming in for some two hours. None here would carry the word to Crinan. It was only some fifteen comparatively easy miles now down to the green levels of Strathmore, at Alyth, itself but the same distance, as the crow flew, from Dunsinane in Fortrenn.

Messengers from Cormac of Glamis were awaiting them at the township of Alyth. Their information was that their master was secretly mobilising the Angus levies—the Mormaor of Angus was elderly and sick. It had to be done secretly, for Crinan was at Dunsinane with some 8000 men, and any obvious mustering would bring him down on them in crushing strength. He suggested that the King waited, hidden, in the mouth of Glen Isla, for a few days until he could join him with the Angus force, and possibly with the Mearnsmen also, under Colin mac Phadruig.

MacBeth respected the old warrior's experience and advice; but on this occasion he thought that he could do better. Hiding in Isla was all very well; but a body of over 3000 men could not in fact remain hidden for long from an enemy only a dozen miles away. However loyal and favourable the Angus folk might be to his cause, someone would be sure to carry the word to Crinan. Having gained the initiative, MacBeth hoped, by his epic march over the mountains, he was determined not to fritter it away and lose the great advantage of surprise. He felt that some swift stroke now, with fewer men, would be more advantageous than delaying to accumulate reinforcements.

Not that he was rash. That was not his nature. He recognised Crinan's strength in numbers. At best, he himself could not expect to total anything like 8000 in a few days. He had something over 3000 now, and with the Angus and Mearns contributions, and Buchan's if he came in time, he might reach 5000. Even with his own Moray and Ross second force, when it arrived, he would still have less than Crinan's total—and his uncle might well be able to summon more meantime. Moreover the question of aid for the rebels from Northumbria was never far from MacBeth's mind. It seemed likely, to say the least, that such would be forthcoming. Therefore his policy should be to defeat his uncle as soon as might be, before it came—assuming that it was not already present.

To achieve success with small numbers, more than mere surprise would be required. Somehow Crinan's forces had to be split—yet without, if possible splitting his own. That might not be easy. But he reckoned that he had two advantages—one, in his uncle's attitude and character, the other in the lie of the land itself. Crinan was intensely preoccupied with Atholl in general and Dunkeld in particular, his mortuath and hereditary abbacy. Any direct threat to Dunkeld-in-Atholl would undoubtedly much provoke him. It so happened that here, at this Gowrie end of Strathmore, there was as it were an inconspicuous side-entrance to the Dunkeld area, through a series of shallow, heavily-wooded valleys and a strung-out chain of lochs linked together by the Lunan Water, to the north of the Stor-mounth and west of Blair-in-Gowrie. The chances of this being held in force were remote, with Crinan's main army so near, at Dunsinane, and no threat presumably anticipated from Gowrie. MacBeth therefore could make a secret march on Dunkeld from here, and probably get most of the way there, some sixteen miles, before being discovered. Then, almost certainly, Crinan would hurry north to give battle. But if, meantime, another and more open threat had materialised here in Strathmore, aimed directly at Dunsinane, he would be unlikely to leave the capital area defenceless. So he might split his strength.

So MacBeth sent the messengers back to Glamis. They were to tell Cormac to make his muster open and obvious henceforth, indeed to flaunt it, and to send as many men as he could marching up Strathmore towards Dunsinane. They need not hurry, but to make their approach very evident. Tomorrow, the looked-for reinforcements would back him up. Meanwhile the royal army would be heading secretly for Dunkeld. The Strathmore force would probably never have to fight. Its duty was to constitute a threat.

That night, then, in the August dusk, MacBeth led his troops out of the Glen of Isla and turned due westwards along the hillfoots that hemmed in the strath to the north, a strong scouting party under Neil Nathrach out in front. Skirting the populous area of Blair, where Strathmore trended away south-westwards, they headed into the shadowy woodlands of the Stormounth, closer country where they could by no means hurry, especially at night, but where they ought to remain undiscovered meantime.

It was an awkward march indeed, different from any hitherto but as trying, in the darkness. There was a road of sorts, to be sure; but it was narrow and twisting, winding through the wet forest. For this was a notably watery area, a system of narrow valleys draining extensive uplands on either side, but itself with little natural drainage, so that a string of marsh-fringed lochs took up much of the valley-floor, linked by the sluggish stream of the Lunan Water. To get thousands of men and horses through this elongated obstacle-course in fair order at night was no minor task. Before long, the force was strung out for miles. Fortunately there was no need for special haste.

At least they encountered no opposition. There were no real villages or townships.

They had covered most of the distance by dawn—or the front of the long column had—and MacBeth reckoned that they were less than five miles from Dunkeld. But here, at a widening of the curious valley formation, where the glen of the Buckny Water came in from the north, was the woodcutters' township of Botharstone. This could not be avoided, for Botharstone Loch filled the valley to the south, and the still larger Loch of Lowes to the west. However, MacBeth required word to be conveyed to Crinan, now, as to this presence and threat, so he made no attempt to prevent the cottagers from sending messengers southwards with the news—as almost certainly they would do. He
was
concerned, however, that warning should not be sent directly ahead of them; for, only some two miles on, was known to be a dangerous tactical position, not exactly a pass but a narrow gorge and river-crossing, where a few men could hold up a hundred times their number, allegedly. Neil of Cawdor was sent ahead, with some 200 men, to attempt to surprise it before word could reach there from Botharstone—since it was scarcely conceivable that so strong a position, so near to Dunkeld, would not be manned in time of war.

But while the main body rested at Botharstone, to allow the long straggling tail to catch up, and to eat the raw oatmeal washed down with water, and such cold meat as had survived thus long, Neil himself came back with the news. The position at Drumbuie ahead was not only manned but vigorously held against them, and by quite an effective force. There could be no surprise here. And the place was stronger even than they had feared.

He explained the position. The Lunan Water, which had strung together the entire valley system, here swung away northwards into the hills and its source in a group of high lochs. It entered this main valley by a kind of gorge, sure enough, steep but not really rocky, which had to be crossed. But that was not the worst of it. Beyond the Lunan, and coming down the same side-glen, was another quite major stream, issuing from the same hill-mass, and only about 300 yards away, the two running more or less side by side but with a broken wooded ridge between, to form a sort of double moat—the ridge which no doubt gave Drambuie its name. Beyond again was a belt of marsh, which would be flooded in winter; and behind all rose the steep wooded sides of Crieff Hill. This all-but impassable gullet was almost a mile long. At its south end it opened directly into the Loch of Craiglush, and to the north it split into two difficult bog-floored glens. The road crossed the two streams and their troughs by narrow wooden bridges, strongly-held—and which could be easily demolished.

Clearly Neil considered that his royal brother had been too clever by half in choosing to come this way.

MacBeth called for his horse, and with a small group of his nobles accompanied Neil back to the site, reserving comment.

The Drambuie position proved to be fully as awkward as reported. Indeed Neil's 200 had spent the interval investigating and assessing further, and without joy. They saw no way of making an opposed crossing without enormous losses. It was hard to gauge how many Athollmen guarded the position, because of the woodlands on all sides; but there seemed to be ample for the task.