David the Prince - Scotland 03 (50 page)

He wakened to her strange jerking, in the small hours of the morning. She was mumbling incoherently, and gasping through it as though being strangled, a horrible sound. Then suddenly she spoke out lucidly, perfectly clearly.

"Now, David - now! It is time. Hold me close. I go now. Hold, hold! I will be waiting, looking for you. I am not frightened, not frightened, not . . ."

She shuddered and shuddered and died, held tight in his arms, as she had wanted. And he was left alone.

25

W
ork, labour, toil
, action, stern almost unending application, as to a treadmill — like many another before him, David mac Malcolm drove himself, to fill his days and much of his nights, with occupation and busyness, in order to drug himself with fatigue, so that when he came to throw himself down on his bed at length, he might be the less aware of what was no longer there, his irreparable, searing loss. For months on end he laboured as though possessed, while his children, his friends and his officers, eyed him askance, fearing almost for his sanity.

And yet, he was never more effective, more capable, more decisive. No problem was too much for him, no obstacle too great, every challenge to be not so much accepted as grimly welcomed. In the year after the Queen's death, Scotland was hurled into a new age by orr man's feverish energy and dogged determination.

And there was no lack of work to his hand, with all his plans for his realm -
their
plans, for always Matilda's influence was close, often she seemed to be at his very shoulder, for so many of the plans they had concocted together. Yet, strangely, he deliberately did not carry out one of those last urgings of hers. He did not give up the earldom of Huntingdon, either to young Earl Simon in Normandy or to King Henry. He thought much on this, and decided against it. Its revenues were just too valuable for what he was doing. An
d why should he hand Henry Beau
clerc or Simon's uncle of Aumale what they both were undoubtedly scheming for? His beloved Matilda in this misjudged, he believed. She was right in that Huntingdon had become something of a millstone and trap for him, as King of Scots. But the answer was not to throw it away, surely, with all that it could do for Scotland; but to counter the danger and use it to best purpose. He would indeed resign the earldom, so that he could no longer be summoned ignominiously to Henry's side like a vassal - but he would bestow it on his son and heir, Henry's namesake. The boy was now nearly sixteen, and mature for his years. Henry Beauclerc's own children were married at his age. Time that he was taking his part. Admittedly this would not affect the n
ecessary fealty for the English
earldom; but so long as young Henry was below the full age of twenty-one years when, and not before, he could enter into outright possession of the earldom, he would have to be represented in it by a deputy or viscount - and David was sure that King Henry would get little satisfaction from summoning such deputy before him at intervals, since it was undoubtedly the King of Scots he aimed to humble and embarrass. Sheriff Gilbert could very well serve as viscount.

So an investiture was held at Stirling, and young Henry was formally created Prince of Strathclyde, as heir-apparent to the throne, and Earl of Huntingdon in the room of his father. And while they were at it, the youth was officially stated to be claimant to the earldom of Northumbria - as sign to Henry Beauclerc not to refuse to endorse the Huntingdon position, or he might stir up a hornet's nest. Northampton no longer was to be involved in such manoeuvres, for Simon de St. Liz had come of age two years before, and David had thereupon resigned his titular holding - although Henry had refused to ratify the earldom to Simon whilst that young man remained in Normandy.

But this, although an important development, took up but little of the King's time and energies. The great labour was the setting up, at least in outline, of the parish and diocesan system whereby the whole of Scotland's administration, either of justice, local government or taxation,
was to be revolutionised -indeed, there had been precious little coherent administration hitherto, save what individual lords imposed of their own whims. This process would take years, of course, generations probably; but a start had to be made, and the detailed planning done, if all was not to be haphazard and chaotic.

In this, strangely enough, David found it considerably more simple to found and set up dioceses than parishes. He had a Primate and Bishop of St. Andrews, now, competent to consecrate and instal new bishops, and a supply of fairly suitable clergy from his fine new monasteries; also funds, and the power to allocate royal lands and revenues to the said sees - even though some of them would remain little more than names and titles for some time to come. So, in addition to the dioceses of St. Andrews, Glasgow, Dunkeld and Moray, already in existence, new ones were established at Galloway, Brechin, Aberdeen and Caithness, for a start. Others would follow later. These locations were selected each for good reason - Galloway, so that David would have legitimate excuse to take action, if necessary in Fergus's lordship, and also to counter any claims of the new

English Bishop of Caer-luel towards Candida Casa or Whithorn; Brechin in the Mearns mortuath, because, after the Stracathro battle, it had become most evident that this area much needed some such influence, for here the Celtic Church was notably strong and reactionary and had been inclined to support the rebel Angus; Aberdeen for much the same reasons, for though the Earl of Mar had not joined the revolt, many of his people had; and Caithness, to have a good influence on the Earl of Ross and the far North.

But the dividing up of these dioceses into parishes was much more difficult, at least as meaningful entities; hundreds of parishes, and almost all, at first, without churches or clergy, their borders sketchily defined, their responsibilities and privileges vague. But the idea, which was largely David's own, thrashed out in many a long discussion with Matilda and Bishop John, and owing only a little to the English system introduced by the Normans, was never in doubt. One day it would be a manageable, working scheme, to the enormous benefit of the entire kingdom and its people, not just its rulers. It was not the religious aspect of this great project which was concerning David meantime; that was for the churchmen to implement, and would have to await the availability of trained clergy - although the Columban clergy were pressed into service meantime, of course; it was the dividing up of Scotland into recognisable and official sections and small territorial units, irrespective of the great domains and lordships of the barons and chiefs, where the royal writ, not the lord's, would run and the ordinary people's needs and well-being be catered for. Indeed this was one of the main objects of the exercise, the limiting of the powers of the great nobles, as against that of the Crown - David having had ample demonstration, in England, of the overweening might and tyranny of the Norman barons and the dangers to the throne.

Needless to say, in all this, he had less than enthusiastic support from most of his nobility.

As example, he set up a parish structure at Ednam, or Edenham, on the edge of the Merse not far from Rook's Burgh, where an able small landowner named Thor was already working an excellent manor system and had built a small church. David imposed a tithe or tiend arrangement here, from the produce of the lands, for the support of a parish priest from Jed worth — and to show the way, dedicated a tenth of his own personal revenues to the Church. So, in effect, this became the first parish in the land.

Parallel with the parish plan he envisaged a system of burghs, for urban settlements. There were already burghs in the land, mainly havens and ports like Berwic
k and Inverkeithing, or the castl
etons of raths and duns, like Dunbar or Edinburgh. But these were only burghs in name. Now seats of population would be regulated and encouraged, for the increase of trade and crafts, given duties and privileges, but also required to pay customs for the royal revenue. They would have councils to govern themselves, in many respects, with even some judicial functions in minor offences, to relieve the realm's justiciars, set up by King MacBeth. Indeed, MacBeth's reforms were a great help in David's plans; although after that enlightened monarch's death, his successors, David's own father and brothers, had allowed much to lapse.

As well as these many ordinary burghs, great and small, he moved to establish more important centres, with special powers delegated directly from the Crown - again to counter the dominant tendencies of great lords - and these would be called king's or royal burghs. Usually t
hey would be castl
etons of royal palaces and forts - such as Rook's Burgh and Dunfermline — but not only such.

In the midst of this enormous work and planning, there developed a more local problem. Ever since Abbot Ralph's translation to Tiron, his
successors
had been complaining that Shiel Kirk was not really a viable site for a major abbey. It was too remote, deep in the forest; it still suffered from sporadic raids of broken men and robbers; and its surrounding lands, although beautiful, were insufficiently fertile and productive to support the establishment. If this seemed an extraordinary state of affairs, there was another and less openly-voiced reason behind the discontent - simple jealousy. This had been provoked by the growing power and royal favour towards the Priory of Jedworth, so comparatively near to the King's seat of Rook's Burgh. This was an Augustinian establishment, of course, and the Tironensians considered themselves to be a step above this, or other, rival Order— and theirs was an abbey where Jedworth was only a priory. Bishop John, in whose diocese were both monasteries, and who personally maintained close links with Tiron, came to the King and urged that something should be done. This ill-feeling was unsuitable and must be put an end to. But he pointed out also that Tiron was more important on the wide scene than were the Augustinians, in its influence with the Vatican, Pope Honorius being a strong supporter thereof. It would be a pity to offend, in any way, the Pontiff who had maintained Scotland's case against York.

With so much else on his mind, David asked his old tutor what he proposed?

'The real reason behind this matter is but simple human failing, Sire," he asserted. "This of jealousy. Shiel Kirk was the first monastery you founded. It was therefore your favourite. Its
monks considered themselves your
especial friars. Then you came to dwell at Rook's Burgh, and in due course set up this new foundation of Jedworth, a mere eight or nine miles away. Now Jedworth's monks see more of you than do Shiel Kirk's, minister to your household, gain more privileges, have better land. The religious have their weaknesses, like other men - all too many, I fear."

"What then is to be done, John?"

"I see only the one answer, my lord David. Move Shiel Kirk."

"Move
Shiel Kirk? Lord, man - what do you mean? Move an abbey?"

"Just that, Sire. It may seem folly- but it would, I think, be a greater folly to allow this ill-feeling to grow, to the hurt of all Holy Church in Scotland, at so delicate a stage. It could do untold harm to your plans and hopes for this land, if there is trouble between these two, if feuding develops between Tironensians and Augustinians. Better far to effect a move."

"But how, John? How move a great abbey?"

"None so difficult, Sire. Not so difficult as to start a new one— as you are proposing to do at Melrose and Brechin and Urqu-hart, I am told. As you
are
doing at Edinburgh and Dunfermline. Give the Tironensians land near here, nearer Rook's Burgh than Jedworth! Fertile land. It must only help your town and royal burgh of Rook's Burgh. Then tell them to move their abbey. It will be much work — but they will do it gladly, I vow. They will have to take down every stone and slate and timber that they have put up with such labour, and have all carried down Tweed the twenty-five miles or so, perhaps on rafts or barges, and rebuilt here. Make them sweat, Sire, for their jealousy! But they could do it. All the materials are there. They will need little that is new - only hard toil and much time. It may teach them a valuable lesson
..."

"But it is not only buildings. What of the farms, the orchards and gardens and fields. The mills and fisheries?"

"Let these remain as a grange, my lord, a small, working daughter-house at Shiel Kirk. Many abbeys have such. Tiron itself has many."

"All this - to give in to petty jealousy!"

"Little cost to you, Sire. The toil and sweat will be theirs. But - you could gain from it. Burden the new abbey with some task, some duty to perform. In token . . ."

They were standing on a flanki
ng-tower of the March Mount castl
e, with David gazing down on what had been Matilda's favourite prospect, the joining of the two great rivers to eastwards and the fair meadowlands on the far side of Tweed, where cattle grazed in lush pasture and where had been the abandoned cashel of
Kelshaugh, the haugh of the Kele
dei, its associated salmon-fishers' hamlet still there. Suddenly he pointed.

"There! The ford, to be sure. Kelshaugh! Let them have Kelshaugh. Let them work and drain that rich land, and build there. And maintain for me a free ferry, for goods and foot-folk, above the ford! Across to this Rook's Burgh. This we have needed, since ever we came. That is it! A useful service for our jealous friars! For all time. Tell them that, John. Let them build their barges, to ship all the stones and carving and gear down Tweed. Then use the barges as a ferry across Tweed to Rook's Burgh. We shall see who crows the loudest and longest in the end!"