Macbeth the King (57 page)

They had the long barrier of the green, rounded Ochil Hills between them and Strathearn. They headed for the Devon valley—not the Black Devon by which they had come but its northerly sister—following this up through the foothills by Dolair and into Glen Devon. This narrow valley threaded the main massif for five miles, and then a little pass carried them over into the north-opening Glen of the Church, past the little cashel of Saint Mungo and so down into wide Strathearn near Auchterarder. Thereafter it was just hard riding for the seventeen miles to the River Tay at Saint John's Town of Perth.

The news at that alarmed township was that an English fleet had come up the Tay as far as Kinfauns, where the Constable had blocked the suddenly-narrowing river with a barrier of sunken boats. There the enemy had disembarked, in their thousands, but so far had made no advance up-river. Whether they had marched instead up through the Sidlaws pass of Balthayock towards Dunsinane, none knew; but there was still a large encampment of them at Kinfauns, near their shipping, as could be seen from the heights of Kinnoull.

It was now early evening and the King, slightly relieved, pressed on with his weary horsemen the couple of miles more to the Scone ford and across to the abbey. Old Abbot Cathail, who was in constant touch with Glamis, said that so far as he knew all was still well at Dunsinane.

They rode on the remaining seven miles, in the long shadows of the sunset, thankful to proceed now at only a modest trot.

Glamis the Constable was much relieved to see them, and to hear of the destruction of the Forth invasion force. He had only some 1500 men all told, including the Norman heavy cavalry under Sir Hugo Despard, and the information he had was that the English landed at Kinfauns numbered around 3000. He believed that they were under the command of MacDuff—at least they flew the Fife banner. They had pushed an advance force of about 1000 through the Balthayock pass to the northern flanks of the Sidlaws at the Dalreich area only four miles away, and there halted. Glamis had a small screening force between them, holding the line of a swampy burn between Bandirran and

Melginch, and another some miles to the east, at Buttergask, to discourage any attack up Strathmore. But he had insufficient men to make either effective. He was glad to resign responsibility into the King's hands.

MacBeth wearily accepted that as his portion. He weighed choices and gave orders as he ate. Sleep was not yet, if at all—for the enemy might stage a night attack.

On fresh horses at least he and Luctacus rode off again, through the half-dark, two miles southwards, to inspect the forward force under the Thane of Cowie, and found them dispersed along the line of the quite large Melginch Burn, in a marshy area with scattered, twisted old thorn trees. Cowie reported all quiet, with the enemy on slightly higher ground just over a mile away on Dalreichmoor. Scouts out ahead relayed no signs of any immediate advance.

Satisfied for the moment, MacBeth left Luctacus there to support Cowie, and returned to Dunsinane, to snatch a few hours of sleep. But only a few, for he must be ready for action before first light.

* * *

MacDuff's attack was unaccountably delayed. The following forenoon passed without major incident, although the Northumbrian force facing Cowie was much reinforced, and another enemy grouping came up through the Sidlaws further to the north-east, by the Kinnaird pass to the Abernyte area, constituting a threat to Cowie's flank. The King ordered some adjustment of line, moving Glamis's eastern outpost somewhat, and waited.

Happily a contingent of 400 Angusmen arrived from Blair in Gowrie and Glen Isla, moreover saying that a still larger reinforcement was on its way from the Mearns. Glamis expected others, likewise, from elsewhere.

It was soon after mid-day that the attack at length developed, with a simultaneous advance on both fronts, some three miles apart with the hilly and rougher terrain of Pitmeudle between, the main thrust being that to the west, at Dalreich, against Cowie. At this stage the King himself remained at Dunsinane, the old fort's 1000-feet-high hill-top site making an excellent vantage-point. The enemy's delaying worried him. It looked as though they had been waiting for something. Something presumably to their advantage. It could be, of course, that they had been looking for the arrival of the destroyed Forth army, had not been informed of its defeat. Or perhaps they assumed Malcolm's victory south of Stirling, and delayed until a junction could be made. But if so, why had they now started the attack? It could be mere uncertain generalship. But MacBeth was uneasy. So he sent forward as many men as he could afford, to reinforce the two fronts, but kept a tactical reserve of about 500, mainly his own light cavalry but including the Normans, with him at Dunsinane.

The fighting took place roughly a couple of miles to the south-east and south-west, the Pitmeudle high ground and escarpments preventing any joining of the fronts, although the watchers on Dunsinane could see both. From there the impression gained was of only moderately enthusiastic assault, less than desperate fighting. It could be that MacDuff, if he it was who was personally in command, was just not a vigorous commander. Or perhaps, having now heard of the defeat at Alueth, he was going warily until he could be reinforced by Malcolm. Somehow, however, the sense was still of some sort of waiting game being played. MacBeth kept raising his gaze from the middle distance where the fighting was, to scan the entire background southwards—which meant in fact the entire range of the Sidlaw Hills from east-south-east to west-south-west

—for any hint of new developments. Admittedly it was towards the south-east that he looked most often, for surely if there were any major enemy move in the south-west or Saint John's Town and Scone area, Abbot Cathail would send word. He was in fact afraid of further sea-borne forces arriving in the Tay estuary. There was no reason to assume that
all
Tostig's shipping had been committed in that initial invasion fleet. More might be on the way. And Lothian itself, with its many fishing-ports, could provide many vessels of various sorts. Malcolm could reinforce MacDuff by sea.

Nevertheless, all that as it might be, the battle was real enough over in the Bandirran-Melginch moorland and marshland, and no doubt more than sufficiently bloody for those taking part. The Scots were outnumbered, even when some 600 Mersemen arrived under Colin's young brother, and were almost immediately sent forward to stiffen both fronts.

MacBeth fretted at his present idle role of over-all supervision—but knew without old Cormac of Glamis's reiteration that it was wise.

In mid-afternoon there was an enemy breakthrough on the extreme west, where a section of MacDuff's force managed to work round Cowie's right flank and threaten his rear. This had to be countered, and at once. MacBeth, eager for some action himself, led 300 of his light cavalry down, in a swift encircling sweep to south and west, at the same time ordering Sir Hugo and his Normans to advance directly on the breakthrough front. The result was sufficiently effective, the light horse herding the Northumbrians towards the heavy chivalry rather like a flock of sheep, and great was the slaughter—although MacBeth lost some men and beasts through archery.

The threat to Cowie's rear removed, the King ordered a return to Dunsinane. MacDuff was unlikely to risk that again.

But back at the hill-top palace an exhausted courier awaited MacBeth, with evil tidings. He came from the Mormaor Lachlan. The Scots army had suffered defeat in Lothian. On the flats of the Avon-mouth, near to Kinneil...

"Kinneil! Avon-mouth! What were you doing there?" the King cried. "I said the Carron, not the Avon. To seek fight between Carron-mouth and the Tor Wood."

"The English made no stand against us there, Highness. My lord of Buchan pressed on towards this Lithgow, on the Avon, to bring them to battle. But we were trapped between two channels of the river..."

"God's curse on the man! I should never have given him the command. So all is lost?"

"The army is broken and dispersed. How many slain, I know not..."

"And the fallen? Lachlan. Colin of Mearns?"

"He is well—the mormaor. And my lord Martacus of Mar. The leaders, in the main, escaped. Swam the river on their horses. They have returned to Stirling."

"And the crossing? The bridge and causeway at Stirling?"

"Still held, my lord King. The mormaor says that he will hold it, to the last."

"The saints be praised for that, at least! Pray that he does not fail us there!"

"Did Malcolm Big Head command the English in person?" Glamis asked.

"I do not know, my lord. We saw little of the enemy leaders."

"Aye. That I believe!"

"How many men has Lachlan now? Remaining?" the King demanded.

"I know not, Highness. All was confusion..."

"Some notion, man? Hundreds? Thousands?"

"Some hundreds, perhaps. More were coming in, all the time. At Stirling. At the bridge..."

MacBeth turned away, to pace the ramparts of the old fort, sick at heart. Apart from the loss, the waste, friends and subjects fallen, this could change all. Sooner or later the victorious Malcolm would surmount the hurdle of the Forth. If not at the Stirling crossing, then by boats across the estuary. Lachlan would certainly not have sufficient men to make any pretence at defending the entire lengthy Fife shore-line. And
he
was in no position to send help, meantime.
Meantime—
that was the marrow of it all. Time was all-important now. As so often it was. But now...

He turned back to Glamis. "Cormac—we must attack. Change to the attack. Seek to defeat MacDuff, not just hold him off. Outnumbered as we are. Now—before Malcolm can cross Forth. If
both
his sea-borne forces are defeated, he will think twice of pushing on northwards. That will give us time. Time to recover our strength. To build up new commands."

"Aye—but what do we attack with?"

"These—the cavalry. Do what we have just done. But win behind them. I will take my light horse, in a wide sweep to the west. As far as Balgray. To turn their flank. Sir Hugo to make a shorter sweep. To Melginch. They lie open to the west, weak."

"You have scarcely 500, all told."

"Enough to menace their rear. With cavalry. Force them to turn round. Then Cowie to advance. We
must
turn them back, defeat them quickly. Or all is lost. I will lead. You remain here..."

Despite the Constable's doubts, MacBeth gave the Normans their orders and rode off south-westwards with all his light horse.

Their going was not secret, nor designed to be. By the time that the King's 400 were crossing the Melginch Burn near Balgray and Balbeggie, the enemy was becoming distinctly restive and beginning to change his dispositions to meet a threat from the flank. And when the Scots light horse were seen to continue on south by east into the foothills behind Dalreich, and the heavy Norman chivalry moved out more slowly in support, the ding-dong battle began to change its entire character. Cowie's hard-pressed fighters obtained something of a breathing-space, to reform preparatory to attempting an advance across the blood-stained burn.

MacBeth, nearly three miles to the south of Dunsinane, amongst the green valleys and thorn-scrub braes, had made his first contact with the MacDuff rear, causing wild confusion, when a single rider came pounding up behind, an Angus thane's son.

"Highness!" he shouted. "My lord Constable says to come back. At once. To Dunsinane. There is a new danger. You must return."

"Plague on you, man! I cannot go now—any fool can see that! Is Glamis out of his mind?"

"He says you
must,
Highness. It is important. A great new threat. Another army approaching..."

"God of Mercy!" The King raised a clenched fist around the hilt of his sword, and shook it in sheerest frustration. Then he called to a thane to take over the command and to continue their present attempt at disrupting the enemy rear but to be ready for a swift recall. He detached a troop of about fifty, and reined round to race back for Dunsinane Hill.

When he reached the summit ramparts, MacBeth was already peering eastwards, down Strathmore—and seeing nothing that he had not seen previously. Then Glamis came hurrying, his grim and grizzled visage grimmer than the King had ever known.

"Not there," he panted. "Not Strathmore. Come. Round here. See—yonder." He pointed north-westwards.

The King stared. This was no direction to look for trouble, from the Highlands.

"I see nothing," he said. "Are you losing your wits, man? To bring me back..."

"Would to God I was! Look. Look well."

The land sloped gently north and west from the foot of Dunsinane Hill, about six miles to the winding Tay, mainly open pasture with patches of woodland, small whinny knolls and cultivated rigs, all wide to view, with nothing of threat to be seen. Beyond the Tay's trough it rose again, as gently at first, but rougher ground now, rising to the Muir of Thorn, by heath and scrub and rocky scarps. The Muir of Thorn stretched back for another five miles or so, and then the land soared up in the dark and forested slopes of Birnam Hill, the first bastion of the Highlands.

"What, man! I see nothing."

"Then I need not blame my old eyes too hardly!" the other said. "Look, Highness—look! Both sides of Tay. Watch the woods. They
move!
There—see it? This side of Cargill."

"Christ...God!" MacBeth breathed.

"And there, beyond the Abbey Road. And right back, behind Tay. The Muir of Thorn is now full of trees! Right back...right back...to Birnam Wood!" The older man's voice broke strangely as he pronounced those last two words.

The King turned to gaze at him, speechless—and seldom could a man's whole appearance have changed so comprehensively, direly, in a moment, at the name of a stretch of woodland. The colour had left features which had aged abruptly. MacBeth's whole person seemed to have shrunk and sagged. He moistened his lips but no words came.

"Trees," Glamis said hoarsely. "Men carrying birch boughs. By the thousand. From Birnam Wood. Moving slowly. A group at a time. None all at once. They have been crossing yonder moor for hours—and we have not seen them. We never looked in that airt. Or if any did, saw nothing to catch their eyes. There is a great host there, descending upon us—and we knew nothing of it."