Andrew approached, then stared upward at the majestic, silent figure of bronze. The expression of fearlessness on Bruce’s face, looking down from out of his helmet of mail, was so lifelike as to compel an observer to silence, commanding all to behold the mighty hand that subdued the north and vanquished its enemies. The wide eyes and flared nostrils of the mighty beast underneath likewise compelled—not hushed submission like its master, but terror, lest any stand in its path and be crushed beneath the onslaught of its powerful hooves. Truly were horse and rider one, fit symbol of that independent spirit of a proud nation who could not forever remain under the rule of another.
For several long minutes he stood as one transfixed, gazing now into the face of the rider, now into the fearful eyes of the beast, quieting himself to hear what his heart told him about his own impending decision.
Then slowly he turned and made his way once again toward the overlook down across the river valley where the momentous events had taken place. He paused at the crest, and there stood as visions gradually pervaded his brain—visions of the living men whom the statues had been fashioned to remember.
The huge grassy expanse spread out before him. A warm breeze whispered across his cheeks, though he could but faintly hear its message.
He breathed in deeply and squinted imperceptibly. What must this sight have been like . . . back then?
What did Bruce and his commanders feel on the eve of battle?
Off in the distance, if he tried, Andrew could just imagine the fearsome cadence of the hooves and feet as Edward’s army of seventeen thousand advanced northward toward the badly outnumbered Scots under Bruce’s command. Was that a faint dust cloud from their movement in the south, gradually growing larger as the great horde approached?
He imagined himself not merely standing now, but astride a great, black equine beast of battle . . . watching . . . waiting . . . wondering what fate the hours ahead boded . . . and whether Providence would be smiling upon him when this day was done.
Were any of his ancestors present here on that fateful day?
If so, how did they come to be there?
11
Stature of a Hero
AD 1314
One
NOVEMBER 1307
The morning was young. A thin fog hung low over the region, suspended as from a gigantic web woven by invisible celestial spiders between the encircling hills. Thin white wisps of smoke stretched straight up from the rooftops below until they met the layer of fog, then bent parallel to the earth from which they had come, more literally than figuratively, then blended into the airy blanket of white.
Except for the fog and smoke, all was brown and gray. Autumn came early to this region, and it was now November of the year 1307. The snows had not yet arrived. But the precursory cold gave clear warning they were not far away, stripping the trees of every reminder of the summer recently past. A more distinctively dreary atmosphere it would have been difficult to imagine.
In the early hour, what few noblemen and ladies made their residences in this out-of-the-way place pulled thick coverings and blankets around them. Those of less fortunate means were by now stirring. Their energies, however, were expended mostly upon feeding their dying fires with fresh peats in the vain attempt to forestall the approach of winter. The very thought of the months ahead brought shivers to the bone.
There was no village, only a scattering of cottages, mostly of turf, some of stone and wood, spreading into the countryside in all directions from the castle called the Peel of Strathbogie, with some slight aggregation at close distance to one another between the Peel and the banks of the Bogie a mile or two distant.
All was quiet, except for a light booted step tramping through this cluster of cottages. The sound echoed off a dull brown dirt street with an imperative of urgency matched by the look on the face of the fleet-footed boy making it.
Besides the merging of the two rivers between which he ran, the terrain in this valley of the Bogie, or Strathbogie, was unremarkable. The confluence of the Deveron into the waters of the Bogie provided a strategic position in the north which, before these troubled times that were now upon them, had given John, earl of Strathbogie, control over the wide valley just as it had more than a hundred years ago when his great-grandfather Duncan, earl of Fife, had come north to build the castle here. That the present earl himself, as well as his son, was at that moment being held in an English prison for aiding the very man now seeking the shelter of his castle in no way diminished the importance of this location.
It was not for any of these reasons, however, that the boy ran through the rough streets on this morning. He was running because a certain visitor had just arrived in their village.
Two
1290–1292
When Scotland’s throne was suddenly vacated in 1290 by the death of young Margaret, Maid of Norway, the list of claimants to follow her had represented some of Scotland’s most prominent families—mostly of Norman blood, but several tracing their ancestry all the way back to the kings of the Picts.
The strongest of such links came from the houses of Bruce, Balliol, Hastings, the Count of Holland, and Comyn. The principal players were unscrupulous and brutal, and none had qualms about killing to secure Scotland’s throne. Such had been the Scots way before. Such it would be again.
Chief among them were still Robert Bruce the elder and John Balliol, both descendents from Malcolm and Margaret through their son David.
Two generations hence, it would be said that the choice of these two had been obvious from the beginning.
Said they, the heir by the nearest male
Was Robert the Bruce, of Annandale,
The Earl of Carrick; he alone
Was rightful claimant to the throne.1
At the time, however, it was anything but clear. Civil war appeared imminent.
King Edward Plantagenet of England still had many friends in Scotland during this time of confusion and unrest. Again, therefore, came an appeal to Edward for help. A letter was sent to the English King by William Fraser, Bishop of St. Andrews and one of the original guardians appointed after Alexander’s death—a man who was no friend of the house of Bruce. The bishop informed Edward that Robert Bruce was marshaling an army and was on his way to Perth to seize control of the country. The earls of Mar and Atholl were also collecting forces. Sides were beginning to form. The situation was grave.
Bishop Fraser begged Edward to come north to the border and there choose between the claimants. The English King’s intervention, the bishop felt, was necessary to avoid a bloody and savage civil war throughout Scotland. Fraser concluded his communication to London by noting particularly that favor toward John Balliol on Edward’s part would be rewarded thereafter with special loyalty on Balliol’s part toward the English crown.
The hint was more than obvious, and Edward seized upon it. This was exactly the opportunity he had been waiting to exploit.
The English King marched north. When he arrived, he lost no opportunity to remind the Scots that he had agreed to involve himself because of his position as “overlord of the land of Scotland.” He therefore requested acknowledgment of such right and position by all the Scottish nobles involved.
After some delay, all the claimants to the throne acceded to Edward’s sovereignty and agreed to accept his choice for King. Robert Bruce, now eighty, and as much Englishman as Scot, was perfectly willing to grant Edward this concession in exchange for the crown. Likewise, Balliol was as loyal to Edward as any duke or baron in London.
Piece by piece, the ambivalent claimants parceled away Scotland’s freedom in hopes of obtaining the prize of power in the land. Edward played the situation to his advantage, gradually assuming complete control of Scotland until a King should be chosen. He now took the further step of ordering the arrest of all who refused to take an oath of allegiance to him as King of England and sovereign of Scotland.
Then followed a complex proceeding involving legal experts throughout t
he land, each supporting of the various claimants. Edward presided over the intricate arguments on behalf of the twelve parties seeking the Scottish throne.
The deliberations took sixteen months. Edward’s final adjudication, passed down in November of 1292, declared John Balliol Scotland’s King. Balliol was crowned at Scone on the last day of that month. The new Scots King joined Edward for Christmas at Newcastle and the following day knelt and did homage to him.
Scotland had a King once more, one who had bowed the knee in submission to Edward of England. The dispute over succession appeared over.
Alas, it had only begun.
Three
NOVEMBER 1307
None of the facts of his country’s successionary crisis mattered, nor were even known, to twelve-year-old Donal, son of Fergus, farrier and ironsmith to absent Lord John of Strathbogie, as he panted his way through the chilly morning air from the castle to the cottage he and his father had left an hour before while yet the night was black. Nor was the lad thinking at the moment that his own great-great-grandfather had helped build the castle. In the years since, new earls had risen up who knew not the name of Gachan, son of Darroch, and how he had been brought from a distant fiefdom and had risen high in the lord’s service. Thus the lineage of the house of Donnuill had sunk back to what it was before, and his numerous descendents in the land of the north called Strathbogie were once again peasants. One thing that had not changed was the strain’s love for horses, which remained strong in both Fergus and his son.
“Yoong Donal, Fhearghis’s son, whaur be ye bound in sich a hurry?” came the voice of a man gathering peats from the stack alongside his cottage.
But the breathless boy did not stop to answer. The man’s eyes continued to follow with inquisitive stare until the lad burst at length through the door of his own house some distance farther down the street.
“Donal . . . Donal! What is it, then?” exclaimed his mother, busy at the hearth in the center of the dirt floor. “Are ye bein’ chased by wolves?”
“No, Mama,” the boy panted. “Papa sent me.”
“Why didna he come himsel’? The gruel’s nigh cooked.”
“He sent me t’ fetch his cap an’ some tools, an’ said fer me t’ dress warm, too, and t’ tell ye we’ll be gone the day.”
“Whate’er for, Donal?” asked the woman, not knowing whether to be alarmed or anxious for the oatmeal she had only just boiled. “What aboot yer breakfast, lad?”
“He told me t’ eat enough t’ last me the day afore I came back. He said they’d give him somethin’ frae the laird’s kitchen.”
“But why, Donal?”
“The castle’s got a visitor, Mama.”
Four
1294–1296
John Balliol, of loyal Norman and English blood, chosen by the King of England to succeed to the Scottish throne, occupied the position of King of Scotland for four years.
To say he ruled Scotland would stretch the truth, for he was weak, timid, and ineffectual—Edward’s vassal in every way, and treated by the English King with contempt and humiliation. That he accepted such a role so meekly made him despised by the Scottish nobility as well. Gradually support of Scotland’s leading men began to swing away from Balliol and in the direction of the house of Bruce.
Meanwhile, Edward faced problems on other fronts and was eager to forget the troublesome Scots. War broke out between England and France in 1294. Balliol, as Edward’s vassal, was ordered by the English King to mobilize men and to raise money for the war effort.
By now, however, Scottish resistance to the English King and his northern vassal was stiffening. Edward, who had been viewed as an ally by many Scottish nobles a short time earlier, was now increasingly regarded as Scotland’s chief adversary. Gradually the realization dawned upon the Scots that they had relinquished more of their independence than they had intended.
As the years passed, the relationship between the two nations grew seriously strained. Edward was determined not merely to possess the title of “overlord of the land of Scotland,” but to exercise that overlordship. With his ultimatum for troops and money, Edward’s demands became intolerable.
A breaking point had been reached.
It was clear that the independence of Scotland, and potentially the entire course of its future, was at stake. There was far from unanimity among the Scots lords, however, about what ought to be done to resecure control of Scotland into their own hands.
The aged Robert Bruce was now dead. But his son and grandson, both likewise Roberts, had in no wise forgotten the family’s claim to the Scottish throne. Yet the family of Bruce, of Norman root, was not pure Scot at all, but Anglo-Scot, with large holdings in both England and Scotland, and therefore of mixed motive in the affair. Loyalty had less to do with nationalistic fervor than with what might be lost if one chose the wrong side.
The Bruce family was hardly alone in this circumstance. Most noted Scots families, in fact, held lands in Yorkshire, Cumbria, and Northumbria. John Balliol likewise had a strong interest in remaining loyal to England, for he possessed lands in seventeen English shires which brought him over five hundred pounds yearly in rents.
Economics, therefore, as well as loyalties of blood, pulled all the principal players in many directions.
With his own circle of loyal nobles strenuously resisting Edward’s demands, at last John Balliol stiffened himself to oppose the English King. He sent word to Edward refusing the demand for troops and money. Furthermore, he declared that his homage and all the promises he had made to the English King had been given under threat of violence and were therefore void. The following year, the Scots concluded a treaty with France, resuming the Auld Alliance of 1165.
Crisis quickly mounted.
Enraged at Balliol’s refusal to support his war efforts and still more at the treaty Balliol had concluded with France, Edward promptly seized Balliol’s estates in England, then amassed an army and marched north to teach the rebellious Scots a lesson in submission they would not soon forget. Hardly prepared to fight for Balliol, the Bruces crossed the border to meet Edward and pledge their loyalty—a fleeting commodity indeed during these times—confident that after his victory, they would again be able to pursue their claim to the Scottish throne.
Balliol responded to Bruce’s treason by seizing the Bruce lands of Annandale, near Carlisle, and giving them to Balliol’s ally and brother-in-law, John Comyn, who was also earl of Buchan, north of Aberdeen.
Caledonia’s newest fight for independence had thus begun with the house of Bruce taking up arms on the English side of the conflict.
King Edward I of England crossed the border at Berwick in March of 1296 and massacred most of that city’s inhabitants. His army marched on to Dunbar, where Scottish forces were soundly defeated. Accounts of merciless hangings, countless rapes, and savage murders, were recounted by an embittered Scots populace. The English King continued on throughout Scotland, seizing control of the important castles, in what amounted to a brutal homage-gathering tour. Thousands of names filled the so-called Ragman Roll, which legally recorded these pledges. The Scots leaders who refused to sign were imprisoned.
In July Balliol was forced to sign a document confessing his folly, and surrendering his entire realm to Edward, acknowledging the English King to be overlord of the land and people of Scotland. Balliol was publicly disgraced—crown, ring, scepter, sword and even most of his clothes taken from him. Because of this humiliation and his weakness as a King, he became known as Toom Tabard—the empty robe.
The fight was over in just a few months. The brutal invasion produced its chilling effect. The names of a majority of Scots nobles were to be found on the Ragman Roll, having sworn their loyalty, yet again, to the King of England.
Edward now proceeded to remove the ancient royal Stone of Coronation from Scone and take it with him to England. With it he sent Balliol ignominiously south to the Tower of London. He would never return to Scotland.
Caledonia
had been stripped of its right even to have a King. Its former ruler was now in prison, its legendary Celtic stone in England. By the time Edward returned south, the north had been plundered and disarmed and was securely in the hands of an English occupation army from Inverness to the Tweed. Scotland was leaderless and paralyzed.
In the wake of Edward’s smashing victory, the two younger Robert Bruces, father and son—Edward’s brief allies—now returned across the border from Carlisle to reclaim their Annandale lands from their Comyn enemies and to take their place again in Scotland as Edward’s men.
The Bruce-Plantagenet alliance, however, would not be a permanent one.
Five
NOVEMBER 1307
What visitor’s the laird got, Donal?” asked the boy’s mother as she spooned out a bowlful of thick porridge for her son.
“A man Papa says is in danger,” answered the boy.
“What’s he doing here?”
“Papa said he came in the middle o’ the night. He’s at the castle noo, lying on his deathbed, Papa says. The laird’s people are tendin’ him, but it’s up t’ Papa t’ reshoe the horses o’ his men an’ sharpen their weapons. Papa says there isna muckle time, an’ he needs me t’ help him.”
“Why the danger, Donal? Be the man an outlaw? What fer’s the castle o’ Strathbogie helpin’ an enemy o’ the kingdom, gien that’s what he be?”
“I dinna ken, Mama. Papa says he’s bein’ chased by the King o’ England an’ half the nobles o’ Scotland. But Papa says he’s the rightful King. Papa says he’s the man Earl John left to fight wi.’”
“What’s his name, Donal?”
“Papa called him the earl o’ Carrick, Mama.”
The woman sucked in a sharp breath of air and brought her hand to her chest. “Robert the Bruce!” she exclaimed, in mingled awe and fear. “I winna hae ye at the castle, Donal,” she added firmly. “The man’s a murderer, whether oor earl’s friend or no!”
An Ancient Strife Page 49
