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Turgot took the cross reverently in his hands and swore that he would care for the Queen’s children.
‘My life is ebbing fast.’ she said. ‘Teach my children to love and fear God, and, if any of them should attain earthly grandeur, be a father to them and a guide. If the need should arise, reprove them if they should become proud; guard them that they may not offend God and forfeit their hopes of eternal life. Swear thus, Turgot, on the black cross in the presence of God.’
Turgot knelt by her bedside and kissed the cross
‘So help me God.’ he said. ‘I shall serve you as faithfully in death as I did in life.’
Her white fingers curled about the cross and she lay back and died.
* * * * *
The Queen was buried at Dunfermline and in trepidation the children waited for what would happen next. Turgot had told them that their brother Edgar was King of Scotland but this did not seem to be the case, for no one came to the castle to swear loyalty to him and there was no talk of a coronation. In fact, each day retainers disappeared from the castle and those who remained had changed subtly. They were furtive, expectant and they did not behave to the children as they had when their parents were alive. Only Turgot remained the same, stern and watchful.
Young Edgar did not know how to act. Was he the King or was he not? What could this strange attitude mean? Where were the lords who should come to swear fealty to him?
Turgot advised that they go on as though they were unaware of the changing situation, for soon there would be some indication of what was taking place.
He was right. Uncle Edgar Atheling came riding to the castle in great distress. He summoned Edith and Edgar and told them that he wished to talk to them very seriously.
They had heard of their father’s half-brother, Donald Bane, had they not? Indeed they had. He had always been a troublemaker. He was illegitimate but that did not mean he had no hope of inheriting the crown. Turgot had said that he wished kings would be less prodigal of scattering their seed throughout the kingdom, for the results often ended in wars and disasters.
Donald Bane had declared that as Malcolm and his eldest son were dead, and young Edgar was not old enough to rule, he had stepped into the breach and had taken the crown. Scotland had a new King.
‘But this is monstrous.’ declared young Edgar. ‘I will not endure it.’
‘You can do nothing,’ said his uncle shortly. ‘Donald Bane has the crown and there are those who will help him hold it. We have no means of wresting it from him. In time we will march against him, but first we must gather together a loyal army.’
‘Let us begin to do that at once.’ said his nephew.
But the older man shook his head wearily. ‘My dear nephew.’ he said, ‘we are in no position to do that. Moreover, King Donald has issued an edict. He orders all English exiles to leave his kingdom.’
‘Exiles!’ cried young Edgar. ‘Is the King of Scotland then an exile in his own realm?’
‘My dear nephew.’ replied his uncle, ‘against whom do you imagine this edict is issued? Am I not English? Am I not an exile? He wants me out of this country. And why? Because then you, my boy, will be at his mercy. What hope do you think you have without me to protect you?’
Edgar stared at his uncle in dismay.
‘It is true.’ said Edith. ‘I see it clearly. Oh, Uncle Edgar, what are we going to do?’
‘We are going to escape Donald Bane, for you, Edgar, as the rightful King of this country, are in the utmost danger. Go at once to your nurseries and prepare your brothers and sisters. We are going on a journey. First send Turgot to me.’
‘Will he come with us, Uncle?’ asked Edith.
‘He will.’
Turgot came with all speed. He had already heard the news.
‘We are in acute danger,’ said Edgar Atheling to the priest. ‘In particular my nephew.’
‘We are leaving here?’ replied Turgot. ‘And where shall we find refuge?’
There was a brief silence. Both men were remembering the occasion when they had been shipwrecked. They had escaped once. Could they hope to do so again?
Edgar replied. ‘In England.’
‘England! You think Rufus will allow us to stay there?’
‘We have to risk that.’
Turgot said: ‘I have recently taken a vow to protect these children.’
‘Think you not,’ replied Edgar, ‘that I will not protect them with everything in my power?’
‘I know it well. But to take them into England where the King of Scotland has been fighting the English...’
‘My good Turgot, I know Rufus. There was a time when we lived under the same roof. We were boys together. I became a friend to him and his brothers.’
Turgot’s brow furrowed. Edgar was of too gentle a nature to be a match for these treacherous Normans. He seemed to forget that he was the rightful King of England, that, had he been of an age to govern, King Edward the Confessor would never have named Harold, son of Godwin, as the future King; and it would have been Edgar whom William would have had to face at Hastings. And if Edgar had been King how could William of Normandy have disputed the fact that he was in truth the King? Edgar had been too young at the time but he was no longer young; yet there was about him an air of gentleness which was in sharp contrast to what Turgot remembered of the mighty Conqueror, and admirable as it might be it was a characteristic which did not win battles and subdue rebellious subjects. Edgar might well have been a King such as Edward the Confessor but there was no doubt that he was the rightful King of England, yet he seemed to be of the opinion that the son of the usurper would happily receive him and shelter him when the Saxon community were constantly chafing against Norman rule. To whom would such people look but to the Royal Atheling to deliver them. And Edgar was suggesting placing himself into the none too scrupulous hands of William Rufus!
‘How firm is such friendship when a crown is at stake?’ asked Turgot now.
‘Why, Turgot, Rufus knows I have no means of taking the crown from him.’
‘I hear there is dissatisfaction with his rule.’
‘There will always be dissatisfaction. His father instructed him for some years before his death. Rufus will never be the great leader the Conqueror was, but who could be that? Turgot, none knows more surely than I that the Norman rule has come to stay. I am concerned with restoring the Scottish crown to my nephew and I believe I can persuade Rufus to help me in this.’
‘You face a grave risk,’ Turgot warned him.
‘Tell me, where else can we go? Or do you suggest that I leave my sister’s children here to be murdered by Donald Bane?’
‘Nay,’ retorted Turgot sorrowfully, ‘I see the situation is desperate.’
‘I prefer to trust Rufus rather than this uncouth Scot. I assure you I know Rufus. Once he is convinced that I shall make no attempts on his crown he will be my friend. We were boys together—he, and his brothers Robert and Henry. I was as another brother. They used to laugh at my Saxon ways, but all in good part. Well, Turgot, are you ready to set out for England?’
‘I see that there is no other way open to us.’
Rufus
When William Rufus heard what had happened to Malcolm of Scotland he lay back on his couch and laughed heartily.
‘Our brother of Scotland was too clever,’ he commented. ‘He thought to harry me while I lay on my sick bed and look what it has brought him.’
Those young men whom it pleased him to honour laughed dutifully. William Rufus was a man of violent temper. So had his father been but the anger of William the First was scarcely unpredictable. All men knew that if they gave him absolute obedience and never encroached on the strict forestry laws they were safe. Not so with William II; his red face could grow purple with rage and the unfortunate man or woman responsible would often have no knowledge of why this should be so. So, all must walk warily with the new King.