David the Prince - Scotland 03 (24 page)

When, in time, they reached the long twisting and major valley of the River Dovey without real incident, word came back from Chester to say that Gruffydds's forces were drawing back on the Plynlimon area of lofty mountains, about a dozen miles to the south of David's position. This was one of the principal Welsh redoubts or mountain strongpoints. The entire northern line-abreast was to swing more to the south-eastwards, in consequence, out of the Dovey valley which ran north-east and south-west.

This new direction, as it were against the grain of the land, brought David's contingent into a welter of hills, wooded on the lower slopes, sheep-strewn above. Soon they came upon signs of quite a large force having passed this way recently, carcases of sheep and cattle, blackened embers of fires, discarded rawhide brogans, human excrement. This sight stirred the weary marchers into hope of action at last - although it affected David otherwise.

This trail led him, presently, into another quite broad and very lonely valley, that of the River Twymyn, clearly a major tributory of the Dovey. It seemed to probe ahead into the still higher hills for a long way, due southwards. With detachments stretching out for miles up and down the slopes on each flank, David followed the axis of this well-defined vale, in the wake of what could only be a retiring Welsh force heading for the Plynlimon redoubt.

He was less than eager to catch up, however keen most of his force. He had no quarrel with the Welsh, another Celtic people, certainly no ambition to be the first of the northern army to come to blows with them.

It was on the second day in that long and sylvan valley of the Twymyn that David's attitude suffered a change. After a pleasant widening of the vale, two tall, steep hills to north and south thrust forward shoulders, abruptly to narrow all to a deep trough, with almost cliff-like rocky sides instead of the grassy, tree-grown slopes, the river itself becoming a foaming white torrent after a great right-angled bend to the west. And just before the mouth of this chasm, still in the green heart of the valley, sheltered as in the lap of the wild mountains, they came upon the new monastery of Pennant-Bachwy, a remote, challenging and yet peaceful spot indeed - but at present in no peaceful state. The retreating Welsh had passed this way the previous evening - but failed to pass. And they had left their mark. Inside and out was devastation, church and monastic buildings desecrated and damaged, the well filled with slaughtered farm-stock, new-planted orchards and growing crops destroyed, even the hives for honey and wax burned. None of the score or so of monks and lay-brothers was actually injured^ but all had been roughly handled, mocked and their habits slashed and torn.

David, deeply outraged, demanded why, why? Prior Ralph, a youngish man of fine features and stalwart build, shook his head sorrowfully. It was hard, hard, he admitted - when the establishment was beginning to take the shape that they had worked for. Perhaps it was God's way of testing their sincerity? These unfortunate Welshmen had done it out of a mistaken hatred he said. They were not really to blame. They thought that he and his monks were Normans, the hated Normans who oppressed them. They were not. They were Frenchmen, yes — from Tiron, near Chartres i
n the Forest of Perche. But not
Normans. No enemies of the Welsh but their friends. They grieved at what the Normans did to the Welsh. But . . .

"Tiron?" David said. "The famous Tiron, in Eure-et-loir? Where the noble Bernard of St. Cyprian rules?"

"The same, my lord. Bernard, our beloved master-under-God, sent us here. Two years ago. At the request of Prince Gruffydd. And now, now ..."

"Gruffydd asked for you to come? From Tiron? Yet his people do this?"

"They were not Gwynedd or Powys men, lord. They had marched north from Ceredigion, and now were turning back. They knew us not, did not believe us when we said that we were not Normans. To them all French are Normans. But - God teach us, help us not to blame them. Their error was unintentional . . ."

"You are generous, Sir Prio
r. And forgiving. I think that I
could not aspire to such nobility. In the face of ill-usage such as this. It is noble indeed."

"It is but our faith, my friend. The teaching of the blessed Bernard. We so strive to carry out the precepts of our Lord Christ, however feebly. We should not name it forgiveness, for that implies sin, offence, on the part of the other, of judgment. Who are we to judge? Only God can do that. Our part is surely acceptance, understanding, concern."

"I am greatly admiring, Brother Ralph. I have heard much good of the Tironensian Order. This is the first I have seen of it

They camped for the night at the ravaged monastery, and David set his men to work to help the monks repair what they could. But nothing would undo most of the damage.

The Prior told them that the Welsh force responsible, perhaps six hundred strong, was heading south into the great mountain fastness of Clywedog, between Pennant and Llanidloes, under mighty Plynlimon, where the River Severn rose amongst a cluster of small lakes. This was Gruffydd's stronghold area and all but impregnable, so difficult were the approaches, it was said.

David was in doubt as to what to do. His instructions were to press on, to confine the enemy ever more closely, and bring them to battle if possible. But he could see the mass of Plynlimon and its neighbours towering ahead, half-right. It could not be more than ten or twelve miles further. Therefore he could well be catching up with the main enemy defensive strength in half-a-day's march. It was no part of his duty, any more than his desire, to make
a single-handed assault on Gruf
fydd's redoubt. Yet, as far as he could gauge, his was the command nearest to the enemy, so far. Probably Chester himself would mount an assault on Plynlimon from the west, from the River Rheidol side; but that would not be likely for some time yet. And where was Henry?

He sent couriers east and west to inform Chester and Alexander of his situation - but did not ask for instructions.

That night, before taking his rest, he had a long talk with Prior Ralph about the Tironensian creed and rules, so much admired by the discerning. Bernard, former Cluniac Abbot of St. Cyprian of Poitiers, of a noble Burgundian family, was a reformer of the reformed. The Cluniac reforms had been a great step forward, forty to fifty years ago, in countering the laxity which had crept into the monastic orders - David's mother had been a great admirer. But abuses and faults and weaknesses had come even therein, with the years, and Bernard had set up his new Order at Tiron-in-the-Forest, in 1109. And in only these four years had made a remarkable impact - enmity as well as praise and emulation, to be sure. David had not heard that there was any Tironensian house established in England; to find one in deepest Wales was the greater surprise—and shed a new light on Prince Gruffydd, the inveterate rebel. The Tironensian teaching was, according to Prior Ralph, a return to the basic virtues of humility, austerity, discipline, forgiveness and acceptance of chastening. In addition there were doctrinal reforms. The theory of the Immaculate Conception was rejected; the persecution of the Jews - popular in these crusading days - condemned; the subtleties and dialectics of much advanced Christian scholarship refuted. And so on. David was much impressed, most of it coinciding with his own ideas — and of course his mother's teachings.

In the morning, he decided that he would move on southwards for some way, at least, to try to ascertain strengths and numbers and positions of the enemy. He wished Prior Ralph and his monks very well and hoped that he would be able to see them again, possibly quite soon. He would, for himself, endeavour to practise forgiveness, as far as he could — but it was not simple for a man bearing rule and authority, especially the commander of an army.

About five miles south of Pennant-Bach wy, on rapidly-rising ground now, and the side valley of Glyntrefnant coming in on the east, they learned something of what was meant by Gruffydd's redoubt area. The country grew wilder, more savage, with naked rock, cliffs and harsh screes predominating. And water everywhere, cataracts and falls, dark pools and tarns, lakes innumerable amidst treacherous bogs. It was, in fact, a great amphitheatre, a wide basin of the mountains, a sump of waters draining from the heights all around, out of which the infant Severn rose. And it was rimmed by rock walls on every hand, as far as could be discerned, the only access by the narrow river gorges and chasms, where half-a-dozen determined men could hold up a thousand. And that these gorges and ravines were manned was evident. It would be a bold commander indeed who assaulted that natural fortress, under any circumstances.

David sent out scouting parties to prospect as much of the area as they could. All came back with the same story. The place was impregnable.

Thoughtful, yet in some measure reassured, David turned back. Somehow he did not think that Henry was the man to be prepared for most bloody battle here. He would return to Pennant-Bachwy and send Henry and the others a full report from there. In fact, he might even go and try to see Henry himself - after all he could not be more than fifteen or twenty miles away.

But at the monastery that evening, they found disaster. A party of Chester's Normans, straying from their route, had come that way after David's people had left; and decided that a half-sacked monastery of foreigners was something not to be considered. They had completed, with greater thoroughness, what the Welshmen had left undone, with a callous savagery unequalled, even slaying one of the lay-brothers who, less disciplined than the monks themselves, had protested. They had taken all the remaining church furniture and the simple plenishings of the dormitory and refectory, even the rough blankets, and set them on fire in the chapel itself, and thrown the body of the lay-brother on top, forcing the others to watch. They had moved on south-eastwards.

David was at a loss for words. What was there to be said? He blamed himself for not having left a guard. How could he have guessed?

But if words were totally inadequate, there was something that he could
do,
at least. On impulse, he told Prior Ralph that he and his remaining people were now in his, David's care and protection. He would, if they would come, take them back to Caer-luel with him and give
them lands for a new monastery.
In Cumbria or in Scotland. He would see, too, that they had all that they required, moneys too, to replace in some measure what they had lost. It would not be the same, but perhaps, in time, they might serve their Order even better.

It was Brother Ralph's turn to be at a loss for words, too overcome with emotion to speak.

Leaving the Viscount Richard in command at Pennant-Bachwy, next morning, with only a few friends and a small escort, David rode eastwards. Whether he would come up with the offending Norman force, which had allegedly gone this way, he did not know - he almost hoped not, fearing what he might be inclined to do in retribution, whatever Bernard's teachings. His objectives were otherwise - first to find Alexander, and then Henry.

All the way, around the skirts of the hills, they were passing groups and sections of their own and the Scots force, these advancing more slowly over
country less easy than the Twy
myn valley. After some eight miles they found the King of Scots in another but lesser valley, almost parallel with their own, and in excellent spirits. The day before, he had come across and soundly defeated a Welsh contingent - not a very large one, it transpired. He and his people were eating well, with large numbers of cattle and sheep on all the upland pastures for the taking, and almost a holiday atmosphere prevailed. Alexander was not greatly interested in the Pennant monastery situation, but became adequately concerned when he heard David's description of the Clywedog stronghold area. He agreed entirely that open and straightforward assault was not to be considered. Whether a starvation policy was practical sounded doubtful. After all, with all the cattle and sheep available in these foothills, the Welsh could drive flocks into this redoubt area to be slaughtered as necessary.

Alexander decided to accompany his brother to discuss the position with Henry. Latest reports put him still at Mur-Castell in the upper Severn valley between Llandinan and Llanidloes, about a dozen miles almost due southwards. He did not appear to be advancing.

It took them well into the evening to reach this Mur-Castell, one of Gruffydd's own houses, the nearest to his mountain fastness, itself something of an eagle's-nest of a place. Here they found little of the atmosphere of an armed camp, rather that of a relaxed celebration and carefree ease. Henry gave the impression of being more or less established here, his troops comfortably settled in the June sunshine.

They were greeted warmly, their brother-in-law revealing no evident embarrassment at their meeting with the lady who was most clearly sharing his campaigning couch, a nubile young person of very obvious charms. Jovial, untroubled, Henry seemed to find the problems and anxieties of war far from pressing. Indeed, his first explicit remarks to David were such as to remove thoughts of war from that young man also.

"I have news for you - which I think will perhaps cause you to weep no tears, David. Although you might conceivably lose a little sleep! Simon de St. Liz is dead."