Free Margaret the Queen by Nigel Tranter Page A

"Did I say otherwhere, dolt?"
    The Queen rose as Maldred did. "If it is to be more of fighting and war, husband, then I shall retire," she announced. "I bid you, and all, a good night!"
    The King snorted but did not otherwise comment.
    Maldred was thankful once more to hurry to open the door for the Queen, behind whom he himself made an exit. He climbed the stairs to inform the prince that his presence was requested in the hall.
    Edgar came down in evident alarm. And with reason, for whenever he appeared he was subjected to abuse. Malcolm, presumably because he was humiliated by having had to turn and flee before the unexpected eruption of King William — whom he preferred still to refer to as Duke William of Normandy, or the Bastard — into Cumbria, was much more critical of the English prince and Saxons in general than he had been previously over their major collapse in the rising against the usurper — in which, of course, he had not been involved personally. He was angry that William could make a forced march northwards through Deira or Yorkshire, Durham, South Northumbria and into his own Cumbria, without apparently an English sword being raised against him; and no single message or warning sent to the Scots King as to his enemy's approach, while he had been hunting down the side-changing Cospatrick. Malcolm, suddenly faced by greatly larger numbers of the puissant Normans and sundry of their Saxon underlings, had been forced into ignominious and headlong retiral for Scotland — and he had to vent his wrath on someone. The fact that, as it transpired, William had actually been making his dash north to punish the renegade Cospatrick, unpopular with all, rather than the raiding Scots, did little to appease Malcolm's ire. His reputation as a warrior-king had taken a body-blow.
    So Edgar had to bear the brunt of it, as representing the wretched Saxons — and was in a poor position to defend himself. Wilting, he just had to stand and take it. Malcolm was three-parts drunk, and tired, so that, indeed, the diatribe was more incoherent and less devastating than it might have been — for this man's anger could be deadly, murderous. Presently the spate of it flagged, and the King came to the real reason for Edgar's summons. Were there any Saxon lords or thanes remaining in the north of England with a spark of spirit in them who could be stirred up to rise in arms behind Norman William, and so to cause the usurper to pause in any attempt to cross the Scots border? Only a mere gesture might serve. The Athelings had brought a number of Saxon notables here to Scotland with them — Merleswegen, Archill, Siward Barn, Alfwin, Maurice and the rest. Was there anywhere these might be sent, secretly but in haste, to arouse trouble behind William, in this pass?
    Unhappily Edgar had to admit that he knew of no such opportunity, of no such paladins. All who had been disposed to rise against the Normans had already done so. Now that the rising was put down and William triumphant, who was going to put his neck into a noose by making gestures of this sort? He, unfortunately, because of his upbringing in Hungary, did not know many of his Saxon lords personally. . .
    Disgustedly Malcolm waved him away, and rose, somewhat unsteadily, to his feet. "Useless!" he snarled. "Vain, posturing daw! I will see some of your miserable Saxons in the morning. Some may have more of wit and spirit than have you — although I doubt it. Now — fetch me that sister of yours."
    "Sister?" The prince stared. "What. . . what. . . ?"
    "Sister, yes. The fair one. Think you I would prefer your mother?"
    "But, Sire — now? She will be retired ..."
    "Then arouse her. I ride in the morning. I shall have no time to await women's hours. I shall see her now."
    "Highness — not so, I pray you. It, it is not suitable. At this hour of night. She, a young woman of royal blood . . ."
    "God's Blood, man — I shall not rape her. Or ... I think not! See her I shall. Go fetch