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Authors: Nigel Tranter
Tags: Historical Novel
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work should be done, no travel undertaken, no ventures started. The candles should have been fetched yesterday, surely. Or await the morrow."
"Lord — what harm in carrying a few candles? Or in riding to see my own brother?"
"No harm on any other day. But on Sunday, yes — when it is not necessary. Is that not so, Brother Oswald?"
"Indeed yes, Princess," the Benedictine agreed. "God's holy day is not to be defiled."'
"But — where is the defilement? Sunday is a day for joy, not gloom, is it not? Always the Church teaches that — our Church. God is worshipped by all, at the beginning, to start His day well. Then folk may do as best pleases them. So long as there is no ill in it. . ."
"Young man, you know not what you say," Oswald told him sternly. "Holy Scripture speaks positively, clearly on this. The sainted Augustine had to reprove and instruct the Church, grown lax in this very issue. Benedict likewise ..."
"I have had my day's sermon, I thank you!" Maldred interrupted, and nodding only briefly to the ladies, left the chamber.
He rode to Culross with his pannier-ponies alone, distinctly at odds with holiness.
In the days that followed, Maldred discovered that he was not purged of his admiration for Margaret Atheling by his lack of appreciation of her piety. For otherwise she proved to be a lively and spirited young woman, far from prudish or stiff, not obviously concerned with rank and station, friendly, energetic, with an innate dignity and never the tomboyishness which her attendant Magdalen could display on occasion. She was interested in what went on around her, glad to take part in most activities, only moralising when she conceived a religious aspect to be involved — which certainly was apt to happen rather more frequently than occurred to some of her Scots hosts. Yet even then her attitude was not really so much holier-than-thou as one of urgent awareness of the dangers of sin and of a spirited antagonism to it. That she found some things sinful which others did not was most of the trouble. And compared with the others of her family, she was much more likeable, not the least in that she was endowed with a sense of humour.
Maldred saw a lot of her — and therefore of Magdalen, since they were not to be left alone, of course. She enjoyed being out-of-doors, even in a Scots November, seeing places and people, unlike her mother and sister. And the Queen, who clearly limited her relationship with the Athelings to mere civilities, more or less made them Maldred's responsibility, since he had brought them. Edgar was, understandably, in a low state, having made his bid for a kingdom and failed, and did not show himself much. But despite indifferent weather, Margaret filled her days. She did not like hunting and hawking, since these meant killing God's creatures; but went riding for long distances, walked happily enough, made expeditions to places of beauty, interest and antiquity, most certainly not brooding on her fate.
Maldred found her company stimulating, challenging and only now and again exasperating. Had he not had other responsibilities, in the matter of the assembling of
the reinforcements for the King's army, he might have made something of a fool of himself over this princess, for he was not good at disguising his feelings. But in this Magdalen helped him to keep his feet reasonably firmly on the ground. She was anything but a cipher in their relationship.
So ten days passed, with, the next Sunday, confrontation carefully avoided. Then, towards dusk one late afternoon, the King arrived home unexpectedly, ahead of his forces, with only a handful of his nobles. And the entire atmosphere and circumstance at Dunfermline was changed dramatically from the moment he rode clattering into the palace courtyard. Everyone was affected, and in major degree, from the Queen down to the lowliest servitor, however differently they showed their reaction. Malcolm mac Duncan was apt to have an impact like that of a
"Lord — what harm in carrying a few candles? Or in riding to see my own brother?"
"No harm on any other day. But on Sunday, yes — when it is not necessary. Is that not so, Brother Oswald?"
"Indeed yes, Princess," the Benedictine agreed. "God's holy day is not to be defiled."'
"But — where is the defilement? Sunday is a day for joy, not gloom, is it not? Always the Church teaches that — our Church. God is worshipped by all, at the beginning, to start His day well. Then folk may do as best pleases them. So long as there is no ill in it. . ."
"Young man, you know not what you say," Oswald told him sternly. "Holy Scripture speaks positively, clearly on this. The sainted Augustine had to reprove and instruct the Church, grown lax in this very issue. Benedict likewise ..."
"I have had my day's sermon, I thank you!" Maldred interrupted, and nodding only briefly to the ladies, left the chamber.
He rode to Culross with his pannier-ponies alone, distinctly at odds with holiness.
In the days that followed, Maldred discovered that he was not purged of his admiration for Margaret Atheling by his lack of appreciation of her piety. For otherwise she proved to be a lively and spirited young woman, far from prudish or stiff, not obviously concerned with rank and station, friendly, energetic, with an innate dignity and never the tomboyishness which her attendant Magdalen could display on occasion. She was interested in what went on around her, glad to take part in most activities, only moralising when she conceived a religious aspect to be involved — which certainly was apt to happen rather more frequently than occurred to some of her Scots hosts. Yet even then her attitude was not really so much holier-than-thou as one of urgent awareness of the dangers of sin and of a spirited antagonism to it. That she found some things sinful which others did not was most of the trouble. And compared with the others of her family, she was much more likeable, not the least in that she was endowed with a sense of humour.
Maldred saw a lot of her — and therefore of Magdalen, since they were not to be left alone, of course. She enjoyed being out-of-doors, even in a Scots November, seeing places and people, unlike her mother and sister. And the Queen, who clearly limited her relationship with the Athelings to mere civilities, more or less made them Maldred's responsibility, since he had brought them. Edgar was, understandably, in a low state, having made his bid for a kingdom and failed, and did not show himself much. But despite indifferent weather, Margaret filled her days. She did not like hunting and hawking, since these meant killing God's creatures; but went riding for long distances, walked happily enough, made expeditions to places of beauty, interest and antiquity, most certainly not brooding on her fate.
Maldred found her company stimulating, challenging and only now and again exasperating. Had he not had other responsibilities, in the matter of the assembling of
the reinforcements for the King's army, he might have made something of a fool of himself over this princess, for he was not good at disguising his feelings. But in this Magdalen helped him to keep his feet reasonably firmly on the ground. She was anything but a cipher in their relationship.
So ten days passed, with, the next Sunday, confrontation carefully avoided. Then, towards dusk one late afternoon, the King arrived home unexpectedly, ahead of his forces, with only a handful of his nobles. And the entire atmosphere and circumstance at Dunfermline was changed dramatically from the moment he rode clattering into the palace courtyard. Everyone was affected, and in major degree, from the Queen down to the lowliest servitor, however differently they showed their reaction. Malcolm mac Duncan was apt to have an impact like that of a
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