young man born to wield power. I was proud of my brother- and now my ‘sister’-in-arms. They were, to everyone’s agreement, an eye-catching couple.
Sadly, that was not the end of the matter. Even before the happy couple could retire for the non- consummation of their marriage, several of Sweyn’s fellow knights were determined to cause trouble.
The taunts were predictable. Sweyn was ten years younger than Adela so, inevitably, the mocking suggested that she was the real ‘man’ of the partnership and that at the bedroom ‘tilt’ it would be Adela who would do the ‘tilting’ and Sweyn who would be ‘speared’ in the joust.
Adela tried to pull him away from the insults, but Sweyn’s anger could not be assuaged and pandemonium broke out. He drew his sword with lightning speed and lunged at his barrackers before any of them could unsheathe their weapons. They retreated rapidly, some falling over one another as they did so. Sweyn managed to get his blade firmly under the chin of one of them, who happened to be Alan of Sees, the youngest son of one of King William’s most powerful allies and one of Count Robert’s most capable young knights.
As Sweyn spoke, the razor-sharp tip of his sword drew blood, which began to trickle down the blade.
‘If you ever insult my wife or me again, I’ll kill you. And that applies to any other man here.’
Adela was at his side in an instant. She had hitched up her dress beyond her knees and pulled out the seax concealed inside the ankle straps of her leather shoe. Now she was holding it towards their goaders, crouched in the pose of a knife-fighter. Suddenly, she was a warrior again.
Sweyn glared at them all with a fiery look in his eye that had real menace in it, then calmly put his sword in its scabbard, took Adela by the hand and walked away.
She, in turn, sheathed her dagger in its improvised scabbard, dropped the hem of her dress, smoothed out its wrinkles and curtsied sweetly to Count Robert, who had arrived to see what the commotion was. Their assailants dispersed sheepishly as the many onlookers began to mutter to themselves.
The speed and ferocity of Sweyn’s reaction had certainly mesmerized me. Whether it had won him respect among his and Adela’s detractors, or created enemies for life, was difficult to tell. Notwithstanding that, he had certainly made an impression.
At dinner that night, Robert was full of admiration for Sweyn.
‘That boy put the fear of God into Alan of Sees today.’
‘Yes, he did. It was quite extraordinary.’
‘Let’s hope he can break Adela as easily as he can tame my knights.’
I smiled to myself, remembering the terms of the marriage, and thought, ‘If only you knew, my friend.’
For a long time after the wedding, I pondered on the wisdom of what the four of us had contrived. Old- fashioned ways and simple prejudice had led us to create a perverse mock marriage and a deceit that we all had to live with — in particular, Sweyn and Adela. It was a clever disguise to solve a problem, but a disguise all the same. As with all subterfuges, it ran the risk of ridicule for all concerned should the ruse ever be discovered.
Much as Sweyn and Adela’s well-being was a great concern for me, my anxiety about our expedition to Scotland was growing. Although I was delighted at the prospect of seeing Margaret again, I feared that Malcolm would be much more difficult to deal with than in the past.
I was compromised in more than one respect. Not only did I have a high regard for both sides, but they both knew of my split loyalties, suggesting little room for manoeuvre when trying to steer them away from conflict. However, I resolved to use my openness as a strength, rather than a weakness, and to appeal to both sides to use me as an intermediary.
It sounded like a good approach, in theory. I prayed that it would work out that way, in practice.
Stewart Binns
Crusade
10. Grief at Launceston
At the end of September we crossed the Tyne at the ruins of Hadrian’s ancient wall and moved rapidly towards the Tweed. As Robert and I had agreed in Rouen, once we crossed into Lothian I took my conroi on the shorter but more difficult route north across the hills of Lammermuir to begin the negotiation with King Malcolm. Robert took the long way round, along the old coastal road, laying waste to everything he found.
Unfortunately, the Lord of Dunbar, Gospatric, one of Malcolm’s major allies, decided to make a fight of it. Robert was ruthless, the garrison was destroyed, his heavily fortified tower by the sea burned to the ground and Gospatric taken prisoner.
Robert considered executing him, but decided it would be a more powerful message to use Gospatric as a courier to Malcolm. He was stripped of his armour and fine clothes, had his head shaved, was dressed in the crude woollen smock of a peasant and given charge of an ox wagon. Robert’s men then loaded the wagon with two dozen severed heads from the Dunbar garrison and told Gospatric to deliver them to Malcolm’s forces at Musselburgh.
It had the desired effect. By the time we reached Dunfermline, Malcolm was in a rage.
My conroi was billeted outside the King’s keep. His steward took us through his great hall, where Edwin, Sweyn and Adela were required to wait, while I was taken to a small private hall next to his and Margaret’s chamber.
Autumn was beginning to come in on the westerly winds and a large fire roared in the hearth. Malcolm swung round when I entered and was about to launch into his tirade when Margaret stopped him.
‘Let me greet my brother, Malcolm!’ She rushed towards me and enfolded me in a warm embrace. ‘How are you, Edgar? And how is Duncan?’
‘I am well and so is your son. The Normans are good to him and he prospers at court in Rouen. He speaks the language well — although, to the amusement of everyone, still with a heavy Scottish lilt — and he thrives. I don’t see him often, but he sends his love to you both.’
Only the last part of my account was untrue. I had hardly seen the boy, but I knew him to be well and treated with respect.
Malcolm could not contain himself any longer and launched into his onslaught, an attack only made worse by my admission.
‘You know I am loyal to Count Robert.’
‘And that includes leading his army to ravage my kingdom?’
‘I came to explain the situation and to try to avoid bloodshed.’
‘Then you’re too late! Dunbar has been destroyed and its lord is sitting in Musselburgh with only the heads of his garrison for company. The misbegotten son of that Norman bastard is marauding all over my kingdom.’
‘Because you’ve been plundering his.’
‘It’s not his kingdom, it’s mine!’
‘That’s not what you agreed at Abernethy.’
‘So, whose side are you on?’
‘In this instance, neither. Robert has allowed me to come here as a neutral party, out of respect for the friendship you have shown me for many years.’
Queen Margaret tried to soothe her husband.
‘Malcolm, listen to Edgar, instead of shouting at him. The situation is just as it was eight years ago at Abernethy. You broke the agreement with William by rampaging over the border. It’s your own fault.’
‘Be quiet, woman, and go and tend to your sick and needy!’
‘Indeed, I am — you’re the one in need of help! For pity’s sake, listen to Edgar.’
‘Margaret is right; Robert’s army is too powerful for you. You will have to concede.’
‘I will not! I will send this upstart home with his head in a cart, just as he did with the men of Dunbar!’
Malcolm then stormed off, shouting at his stewards to summon a Council of War.
Margaret looked just I remembered her, perhaps even more serene and beautiful. How lucky Malcolm was to have her as his queen; and how lucky were her people to have her benign influence on their tempestuous monarch.
‘Don’t worry, Margaret, I’ll talk to him later when he’s calmed down.’
‘He’s been much better recently, but he gets restless and likes nothing better than riding south with a band of cut-throats intent on plunder and savagery. All I can do is pray for him.’
‘You’re too good for him, Margaret. Why do you put up with his boorish ways?’
‘It’s my lot. He’s the father of my children and it is my calling to redeem his soul from eternal damnation.
