King Malcolm and the Saints of Hexham
When Malcolm, King of Scots, was ravaging Northumbria with cruel slaughter, he nonetheless maintained peace with the Hexham monastery out of reverence for the glory of the saints who rested there. However, on one occasion, his envoys, passing near the lands of this monastery, fell into the hands of robbers and returned to the king robbed and wounded. They blamed this cruelty on the innocent people of the monastery. The king, enraged and furious at this accusation, swore that for such ingratitude, he would utterly destroy the place and its people. And so, by the king's command, a cruel army arrived there, eager for plunder, swift in slaughter, hungry for villainy, merciless to pleas, and insatiable in greed.The king's wrath did not remain hidden from the people of Hexham. But what could they do? They had neither the strength to resist, nor a fortress to take refuge in, nor any allies among vassals to support them; their only hope lay in the often-proven valor of the saints. Thus, to the monastery gathered young men and maidens, old men and children, women and infants, either to be delivered by divine power or to be surely slain before the relics of the saints.
The king had already arrived there with a strong army; he had already occupied the region near the River Tyne and would have sated his cruelty, but night fell and prevented him from crossing.
However, the priest of the monastery sent some of the clergy with the relics of the saints to the king—to clear themselves of the accusation brought against them and to plead for peace for the innocent people.
The king was in a rage; he summoned his Galloway vassals, more cruel than the others, and said, so that the envoys could hear: "As soon as dawn breaks, cross the river and attack them; let your eyes show no mercy or pity for rank, sex, or age. What the sword cannot destroy, let fire consume; let nothing of them remain."
Having spoken thus, he angrily ordered the envoys to return. And when they returned and reported what they had heard, a pitiful uproar arose: great cries, weeping, and lamentation.
And so, dawn had already dispelled the shadows of the night, arriving earlier than usual, and took away the last hope of salvation they had nurtured; and suddenly—behold!—a mist rose from the west and filled the entire riverbed, from its source to its mouth. And, gradually thickening, it became so dense and thick in a short time that if someone were to stretch out their right hand, it would be swallowed by the gloom and become invisible.
The Galloway men, therefore, entered the mist and, passing through some wastelands, crossed the river to the west; they came upon the road leading to Cumbria, and by evening found themselves on the border of their own region. The king waited for the Galloway men he had sent and for the lifting of the mist, which he had come to hate; and he was uncertain what to do. When the mist finally lifted and revealed what it had concealed—the river had swollen with a sudden flood and for three days thwarted the king's plans.
Then the king gathered his nobles and said: "What shall we do? Let us leave this place, for these saints are at home here."