and then to bed, exhausted.
THE KING REMAINED at Dunfermline, dining with his Saxon guests and meeting with Edgar and various Scottish and Saxon lords. Beyond formal encounters, Margaret rarely spoke to Malcolm and the king did not seem to notice her much. She did not mind, for his intense, blustery manner unnerved her. No mention was made of marriage, but she sensed the possibility in the air, echoed in oblique remarks and quick glances among the Saxons in particular. But she did not ask, for fear that they would interpret that as a sign of her interest.
Malcolm often went hunting or rode out with his men on patrol, and spent hours with his council or sat in moot court with locals, hearing grievances and giving judgments either in the great hall, in the bailey, or somewhere in the countryside. White-robed brothers and bishops of the Celtic persuasion hastened in and out of the fortress for audienceswith the king, but when Margaret remarked one day on the king’s piety, De Lauder replied that the Celtic clergy were there to barter rights to rental portions and fees due to the crown or the parishes, and to hint at promotions; the Scottish king appointed bishops himself, he told her.
Tension and turbulence rode the air like dark clouds before a storm. Malcolm Canmore and his men left for days at a time to patrol their borderlands, though rumor said they raided northern England to claim land, booty, and slaves in the wake of William’s destruction. Unsure of the truth, Margaret knew only that Edgar and the other Saxons who sometimes rode with Malcolm rarely spoke of what occurred on those journeys.
Following a heated argument with the king loud enough to be heard behind closed doors, Cospatric and Walde departed Dunfermline, taking men and horses to England, saying they would inspect their ravaged Northumbrian properties and help their stranded people after further Norman attacks. Uncomfortably aware of a rift between Malcolm and his cousins, Margaret wondered if the Saxon guests would be asked to leave, but they were not.
Malcolm puzzled her. Sometimes he and his men would sit in the hall in grim, dark moods, guzzling ale or gambling; then Margaret sensed that war deeds and secrets lay heavy upon their shoulders and souls. Other times, when she met Malcolm in the bailey or the tower, he seemed no brute, just a big, clumsy man who lumbered past her, blushing like a boy.
Good day, lady
, he would say; or
Greetings, lady—the weather is cold today
. The scents of smoke fire, metal, and horse clung to him, along with hints of sweat and unwashed clothing. His gruff manner and masculine scents seemed compelling and oddly safe, somehow, reminding her of her father, who had been a warrior general under the king of Hungary and would have been a strong monarch for England had fate treated him more kindly.
Sometimes Margaret would stare after Malcolm and feel a longing, a sort of loneliness, stir within. He fascinated her in some ways—blunt and powerful, her clear opposite—then she would dismiss her idle thoughts and move on.
Her kinswomen judged him a dull-witted savage lacking refinement and princely bearing. He had been well educated, but his casual attention to intellectual matters did not show the training of a true prince, Margaret thought, compared to princes of the Hungarian and English courts. As for spiritual matters, Malcolm’s fortress had no decent chapel, and neither did the king go often to the church on the hill.
Yet he was widely praised as shrewd, powerful, brave, and even reckless, and the Saxon lords admired his persistence and purpose. Though he did not behave like a prince of state, though he was provincial and unsophisticated, he was a clever, ambitious ruler. Margaret found him intriguing, though she would not have admitted it.
But her mother and sister, and Kata, too, complained often about Scotland and spoke of leaving. They pressured Margaret, as the eldest, to talk to Edgar, who could influence
THE KING REMAINED at Dunfermline, dining with his Saxon guests and meeting with Edgar and various Scottish and Saxon lords. Beyond formal encounters, Margaret rarely spoke to Malcolm and the king did not seem to notice her much. She did not mind, for his intense, blustery manner unnerved her. No mention was made of marriage, but she sensed the possibility in the air, echoed in oblique remarks and quick glances among the Saxons in particular. But she did not ask, for fear that they would interpret that as a sign of her interest.
Malcolm often went hunting or rode out with his men on patrol, and spent hours with his council or sat in moot court with locals, hearing grievances and giving judgments either in the great hall, in the bailey, or somewhere in the countryside. White-robed brothers and bishops of the Celtic persuasion hastened in and out of the fortress for audienceswith the king, but when Margaret remarked one day on the king’s piety, De Lauder replied that the Celtic clergy were there to barter rights to rental portions and fees due to the crown or the parishes, and to hint at promotions; the Scottish king appointed bishops himself, he told her.
Tension and turbulence rode the air like dark clouds before a storm. Malcolm Canmore and his men left for days at a time to patrol their borderlands, though rumor said they raided northern England to claim land, booty, and slaves in the wake of William’s destruction. Unsure of the truth, Margaret knew only that Edgar and the other Saxons who sometimes rode with Malcolm rarely spoke of what occurred on those journeys.
Following a heated argument with the king loud enough to be heard behind closed doors, Cospatric and Walde departed Dunfermline, taking men and horses to England, saying they would inspect their ravaged Northumbrian properties and help their stranded people after further Norman attacks. Uncomfortably aware of a rift between Malcolm and his cousins, Margaret wondered if the Saxon guests would be asked to leave, but they were not.
Malcolm puzzled her. Sometimes he and his men would sit in the hall in grim, dark moods, guzzling ale or gambling; then Margaret sensed that war deeds and secrets lay heavy upon their shoulders and souls. Other times, when she met Malcolm in the bailey or the tower, he seemed no brute, just a big, clumsy man who lumbered past her, blushing like a boy.
Good day, lady
, he would say; or
Greetings, lady—the weather is cold today
. The scents of smoke fire, metal, and horse clung to him, along with hints of sweat and unwashed clothing. His gruff manner and masculine scents seemed compelling and oddly safe, somehow, reminding her of her father, who had been a warrior general under the king of Hungary and would have been a strong monarch for England had fate treated him more kindly.
Sometimes Margaret would stare after Malcolm and feel a longing, a sort of loneliness, stir within. He fascinated her in some ways—blunt and powerful, her clear opposite—then she would dismiss her idle thoughts and move on.
Her kinswomen judged him a dull-witted savage lacking refinement and princely bearing. He had been well educated, but his casual attention to intellectual matters did not show the training of a true prince, Margaret thought, compared to princes of the Hungarian and English courts. As for spiritual matters, Malcolm’s fortress had no decent chapel, and neither did the king go often to the church on the hill.
Yet he was widely praised as shrewd, powerful, brave, and even reckless, and the Saxon lords admired his persistence and purpose. Though he did not behave like a prince of state, though he was provincial and unsophisticated, he was a clever, ambitious ruler. Margaret found him intriguing, though she would not have admitted it.
But her mother and sister, and Kata, too, complained often about Scotland and spoke of leaving. They pressured Margaret, as the eldest, to talk to Edgar, who could influence
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