But that the Scot in his unfurnish’d kingdom,
Came pouring like the tide into a breach,
With ample and brim fullness of his force;
Galling the gleaned land with hot assays,
Girding with grievous siege castles and towns;
That England being empty of defence,
Hath shook and trembled at the ill neighbourhood.
Shakespeare, Henry V
Edward Hall, on writing of the marriage of Margaret Tudor to James IV celebrated in August 1502, observed that the English found their Scottish hosts somewhat vulgar and the overly ostentatious excess of the court distasteful. Doubtless this form of snobbery was commonplace and had probably not inhibited the guests from taking their fill.1 James was out to impress but the southerners were disposed to sneer. Any amity between the two nations at this juncture was entirely skin deep. The Treaty of Perpetual Peace, business end of the marriage deal, was not the brave new world many subsequent writers have perhaps imagined. The chance for such a beginning lay more with James III’s earlier accord in 1474. That James’ reign, inglorious and unhappy as it was, became marked by the king’s anglophile obsession, not at all popular with his people. Peace may have seemed like a good idea but it was not high on anyone’s agenda. Even James found himself obliged to fight in 1480 and, again, two years later, when Gloucester’s brilliant campaign recovered Berwick, previously bargained away by Margaret of Anjou in 1460. Worse, it saw English standards hoisted over the nation’s capital.
This James had learnt from his father’s errors and, though he was prepared to enter into terms with England, there was no suggestion that he was inclined to adopt his unlamented parent’s hopeless anglophile policy.2 Perkin Warbeck3 at various times claimed to be Richard III’s bastard, the Earl of Warwick finally, Duke of York, Edward V’s younger brother. Not the most convincing of pretenders, he was nonetheless useful to those who sought to embarrass Henry VII. Henry, himself a usurper, was right to be mindful of others. After all, he’d already had to deal with Lambert Simnel, tool of the disaffected Earl of Lincoln, an episode which had ended in a major battle at Stoke.4 Warbeck’s adventures put Henry to a deal of difficulty.
Flirtation with displaced Yorkists had not been unknown at the Scottish court. In March 1492, the would-be king sent a message to the Scottish polity, recommended to James by the Earl of Desmond.5 Warbeck, despite his basic implausibility, had some connection with European rulers, most notably Margaret of Burgundy, last real Yorkist paladin. The pretender might prove useful in aiding James to gain a foothold in the counsels of Europe. He could also balance the pro-French and pro-English elements amongst his own advisers. Warbeck attempted a landing in Kent in the summer of 1495 backed, in a desultory fashion, by the emperor-elect. The sub text for Scottish support, purely nominal, was a possible wedding alliance, with Warbeck’s flimsy cause as cement for the accord.
As was so often the case, this putative understanding was drowned in the mire of European power politics and led nowhere. Rather like Warbeck’s expedition which was easily rebuffed, survivors sailed for Ireland where fresh catastrophe awaited and the pretender found himself on the run. Perhaps Scotland’s king might offer some hope of succour. Warbeck might prove a handy pawn in his current initiative, a hoped-for alliance with Spain. Ferdinand and Isabella needed Henry VII as an ally against France.
Setting Warbeck loose on the Anglo-Scottish border supported by James’ power would divert the English king’s attention to his troublesome frontier. The Spanish favoured a substantive truce to fix Henry’s attention across the Channel. James happily gained access to the ambassadors’ sealed orders before they did and saw that Ferdinand and Isabella had no lasting interest in Scotland. James now decided to play his trump card. After consulting his council (where opinion was likely divided),6 he decided to offer Warbeck asylum. That November, the pretender was made welcome at Stirling, hailed as ‘Prince Richard’ of England.
Having browbeaten the hapless Spanish ambassadors, James arranged for his new puppet to be married to Lady Gordon, a fair match for the son of a Flemish bourgeois. Moreover, the king funded Warbeck’s motley crew of hangers on, who flooded into the new host country like a plague, plus arranging a generous stipend for their leader.7 Outwardly, James appeared to be offering significant endorsements, though this was more from policy than conviction. Even the advantageous marriage, whilst a step up for Perkin Warbeck, would have been way beneath a titular Prince of England.
The Fleming was simply an investment in diplomacy, a tool to persuade the wily Spanish to reconsider their position. The sought-after marriage link was payback for an alliance with Henry VII. In fact Spain had a dearth of suitable candidates but it is clear James was simply using Warbeck as an investment in leverage. Ferdinand and Isabella decided to rely upon prevarication and falsehood, cornerstones of productive intrigue.8 James, however, was a quick learner and, even before his embassy returned he was mustering forces for a raid into England. Don Pedro de Ayala, the new Spanish ambassador, failed to fool James but formed a distinct liking both for the young king and his kingdom; his letter to his sovereigns describing the King of Scots provides an invaluable and insightful pen portrait.
By 15 September, the Scots’ army was concentrating at Ellam Kirk.9 Henry was right to worry but his tireless diplomacy beforehand had eliminated any prospects of support for the pretender beyond Scotland. The King of England whilst agreeing to join the Holy League,10 attached conditions; he would take no overt action against France whilst his northern border remained threatened. Sir Henry Wyatt, Captain of Carlisle, had written in rather unflattering terms, suggesting the loyalties of numerous border officials were by no means fixed. Henry, therefore, had no cause to relish war with Scotland. He decided to try persuasion, instructing his envoys, the bishops of Durham and Carlisle, to offer the substantive inducement of a Tudor marriage. Despite Bishop Fox of Durham’s skilful diplomacy, James was not immediately open to conversion. Admittedly, Princess Margaret was only six and the contract could not be solemnised for some time. James understood his future father-in-law. The offer could be used as bait to persuade the king to dump Warbeck and then be as easily withdrawn.11
In fact, what James had in mind was not a bid for conquest in the north where any real prospects of support for the pretender were likely to prove illusory but simply a major raid which the inhabitants of both sides of the line understood only too well. Bashing the English, provided the sport did not end in disaster, always guaranteed a popular press and would establish the young monarch’s military credentials, hitherto untried. Henry was not lacking in potential allies in Scotland. Some of the losers of 1488 were already on his payroll.12 The Earl of Buchan and Lord Bothwell both prominent amongst these, were suborned to do away with Warbeck and thus save everyone a deal of trouble. Indeed, Bothwell had provided a most detailed account of the Scottish preparations and of the bargaining between king and pretender. After hard wrangling, Warbeck had agreed a fee of 50,000 marks13 over five years and the return of Berwick as a price for intervention.14 Even the French were moved to offer a substantive bribe for Warbeck’s head to keep Henry from Spanish coils.
James remained adamant, citing a catalogue of past grievances and omitting mention of the compensation he’d already received,15 though the Scots may already have tired of the burden of maintaining Warbeck and his 1,400 chancers. Detailed plans were made for the kidnap and/or murder of the pretender but, in the event, came to nothing. Ramsay did, however, confirm Henry’s earlier mistrust of some of his border officers; Lord Dacre’s brother Randall had sent a courier to communicate directly with Warbeck in Edinburgh.16
The Scottish king had assembled his artillery train, including some experienced master gunners from the Low Countries and unleashed a short, fourteen-day campaign.17 Much time was consumed with a lumbering march to the Tweed, heavy ordnance being dragged over atrocious roads. James’ vanguard had already reported that no significant opposition was mustered against him. Once the river had been successfully crossed, the Scots proceeded with fire and sword in traditional manner, ‘the natives who resisted he cruelly killed’. Once byres and fields were emptied and purses filled, the Scots decided they had done enough and, in Vergil’s words ‘he would have gone even further but for his troops being so laden with spoils that they refused to follow him’.18
Warbeck’s introduction to daily life on the northern frontier of his kingdom caused him considerable upset. Needless to add, no supporters had come forward. Vergil tells us he protested to James who dismissed his feeble complaint brusquely, pointing out the noticeable dearth of support. After barely a day in the field, Perkin Warbeck slunk back over the border. James proceeded to business, slighting a handspan of towers by Tweed and Till and laying siege to Heton Castle.19 Despite vigorous operations, the place was still holding out when the king, apprised of an English force on the march from Newcastle, decamped smartly and re-crossed the Tweed. This was the end of the 1496 campaign.
It had been a most inglorious affair, nothing more than a typical cross-border raid, scant return for so costly an investment and not an ounce of glory. Certain minor English holds such as Twizel, Tilmouth, Duddo, Branxton and Howtel had been slighted,20 thus leaving a scorched balcony for further offensive operations down the valley of the Till. The campaign, however minor, does show that James was not foolhardy and obsessed with seeking battle. Quite the reverse, it rather demonstrates the king’s caution and willingness to focus on limited objectives. It was during this foray that De Ayala made his famous observations as to the king’s personal bravery. The ambassador had accompanied the army and saw matters at first hand, very much so, as numerous of his own retainers were killed or wounded.21
The canny Spaniard observed that James clearly loved war and yet there was policy in the whole business. At little risk, if some expense, James had shown his people he was a valiant war leader and not affected by his father’s squeamishness. He had reminded Henry of the vulnerability of his northern frontier and that he, James, could strike as he chose and at will. Henry was not impressed. He regarded the raid as a declaration of war, a material and fundamental breach of the previous truce. Parliament granted significant resources, some £120,000,22 to pursue hostilities on both land and sea. James had stirred a hornet’s nest. It was necessary to ensure the borders were defensible and this task occupied the Scottish king over the autumn and winter. He did, however, find time to make Warbeck’s shabby entourage redundant, leaving the pretender alone and isolated, effectively on ice until, or indeed if, a further use could be found for him.
James was not the man to sit idly on the defensive whilst his enemies mustered unchecked. In February 1497 he launched a pre-emptive strike, scourging the border as before. This, the Raid of Home, was a brief, though for the victims no doubt, a costly affair. Henry, his rage intensifying, had already sent instructions to Dacre to make ready. The warden would need little persuasion. James had by now ordered a general muster and wappinschaws – the host to serve for 40 days whilst his gunners remained stationed on the border.23 Ominously for the English, Mons Meg, that great and venerable leviathan was refurbished for service in the forthcoming campaign. Cast probably in the 1430s, this greatest of great guns was still the most formidable in all Britain. No conventional walls could hope to withstand her Olympian blast.24
If Warbeck was no longer a player, his continued presence was still Henry’s prime casus belli. Further attempts by Spanish envoys to mediate foundered on this particular rock. James might have largely dispensed with the pretender but he was still a useful pawn on the board. De Ayala, by now a bit of a James groupie, was impressed by the young king’s sangfroid as he carefully made ready whilst visibly maintaining a façade of sport and pleasure; ‘as though he were lord of the world’. Henry, meanwhile, was distracted by rebellion in the west as disaffected Cornishmen marched upon London. His normally well-tuned antennae had, for once, let him down. His focus upon the north had caused him to miss the peril from the west. In the event this was effectively countered in a scrimmage at Blackheath and the threat evaporated.
With such alarums in England, Henry was not as willing to march his host against Scotland. The resourceful Bishop Fox of Durham was sent to negotiate, ideally for the surrender of Warbeck, but in reality for whatever he could bargain for. James had the edge and knew it. He launched two more forays in mid- and late June, beating up the marches and showing his Scottish subjects he was indeed a leader most fit for war. At Duns the Homes saw off an English riposte. With the initiative in his palm, James took the chance to rid himself of the surplus pretender who was packed off back to Ireland,25 appropriately in a ship named Cuckoo.
Bishop Fox had need of all his considerable finesse for James had decided to attempt the reduction of Norham, jewel in the Prince Bishop’s crown. The king held his muster at Melrose where he could deploy a very substantial train, exceeding anything seen previously on the borders. Mons Meg, the pride of his artillery ignominiously broke down just south of Edinburgh and several days were lost in necessary repairs. In August the siege began in earnest, James’ great guns pounding away at the citadel whilst strong fighting patrols beat up the environs. Despite all this fine show, the leaguer achieved nothing. A spirited defence and pressure on James’ already overstretched finances caused him to abandon his lines by 10 August and march the host back to Edinburgh.
By now, Thomas Howard, Earl of Surrey was hastening north to relieve Norham. Finding the Scots already decamped he crossed the line and sat down before Ayton Castle – a Home hold in the Merse.26 James now had to marshal his forces once again and march south to confront Surrey. A standoff ensued and the usual formalities were exchanged. James challenged the earl to single combat to decide the fate of Berwick. This was mainly show, given the difference in ages, Howard would hardly be likely to accept, though indeed he very nearly did.27 In the event, James withdrew rather than commit to battle. Surrey, of course, portrayed this as poltroonery. In fact it was sound policy. James had nothing to gain from a fight and much to lose. Whatever his chivalric notions, the king was clearly not prepared to allow these to rule his head. The Ayton incident shows us that James was not the reckless chevalier of legend: here was a display of tactical flexibility and realpolitik that Machiavelli would surely have applauded.
King Henry was not best pleased. He unfairly regarded Surrey’s campaign as a dismal waste of time and precious resources. The year 1497 was turning out to be a difficult one. For the Scots too, James’ belligerence had consumed much treasure and yielded few gains, other than to establish the king as an accomplished war leader and one who could hold his own against England. Both sides, by the end of August, were effectively played out. Henry had expended somewhere between £60,000–£90,000 on Surrey’s campaign at a time when the west was still rumbling28 and he urgently needed peace.
Accordingly, he sent a delegation including Dacre and the Bishop of Carlisle to treat with the Scots, beginning a series of negotiations which would culminate in the treaty of 1502. By September, diplomats from both sides had brokered a seven years’ truce. This was a beginning though such arrangements were notoriously flimsy and the indefatigable de Ayala rounded off his Scottish service by acting as James’ ambassador to London that autumn. The treaty was amended to provide it should endure for the period of one year after the death of the last surviving of the two rulers. Ferdinand and Isabella would act as arbitrators from now on.
What, if anything had James achieved? In fact, rather a lot; he had wiped out the inadequacies of his father’s dismal reign and shown his people they had a dynamic young ruler capable of standing up to the English. He had demonstrated his capacity as leader in war and as knight in battle. Both were important and, though de Ayala might fret, Scotsmen expected their king to shine in arms. Bruce had taken similar risks, engaging the English knight de Bohun in single combat before the hosts on the first day of Bannockburn. Logically, this was madness for the lynchpin and fount of Scottish hopes to brawl like a common soldier, not even fully harnessed. The effect of the win repaid the hazard, a Scottish Achilles.
To be led by such a man was surely a harbinger of victory. As Norman Macdougall observes, James had shown himself to be a man worthy of a king’s daughter in marriage.29 He had also demonstrated that well prepared and rapid military action secured results. His earlier and subsequent campaigns in the Highlands in 1494 and 1495, with that of 1498–99 had also achieved tactical successes. Though the events of 1513 were to be on a far larger scale, it would be untrue to assert that James was completely without some degree of military experience.
Since the onset of the Great Cause in 1296, relations between Scots and English had been characterised by hostility. James’ raid in 1496 celebrated 200 years of bitter strife and endemic warfare. The negotiations, begun in the autumn of the following year, had been brought on by dire necessity on the part of Henry VII. His policy was dictated by expediency rather than any desire for peace, indeed only the hapless James III had sought a lasting accord. It is said that de Ayala was considered remarkable for having endured a full twelve months in the northern kingdom, as though he had spent that time in the midst of a barbarian horde.30 Even as talks continued, there were fresh disturbances at Norham where the Scots were worsted in a fracas with garrison troops there.
Despite this mutual detestation and suspicion, the 1502 accord was based on more solid foundations than that of a generation earlier. On this occasion, the proposed dynastic union did indeed take place. Moreover, the treaty embodied a revised legal code for cross-border redress, obliging any injured party to bring his complaint, in the first instance, before the warden having jurisdiction. The notion of perpetuity was also built in: every succeeding monarch of both realms was obliged to re-affirm these terms within six months of coming to the throne. By the time the marriage was solemnised Henry’s eldest boy, Arthur, had died followed not long after by his mother. Only King Henry’s younger son, the future Henry VIII remained as heir. For James, this offered the dazzling prospect of the greatest prize of all should young Henry not live to inherit. Needless to add, the younger Tudor was to prove a very robust specimen indeed.
James had demonstrated with telling clarity that he was not his feeble father. This was important. The failures of the older James’ rule, the humiliations of the war of 1482 and the loss of Berwick, allied to the king’s anglophile obsession had demeaned the martial ardour of his magnates and subjects. In a short space of time his son had rebuilt the northern kingdom’s military prestige and restored self respect. He had campaigned aggressively and brought Henry to the negotiating table. All of this had been achieved without his having to fight, attaining his goals without the hazard of battle. Despite any chivalric impulses, he was well aware of the dire precedents and allowed caution to prevail. Even the treaty of 1502, sound and statesmanlike as it was did not commit the king to an anglophile policy. He had treated with Henry as an equal, a free and independent prince. The accord with England did not inhibit James from seeking amity with France and Denmark.
In 1504, James cooperated with Dacre in a joint raid or ‘rode’ against the thieves of Eskdale and the Debateable Land.31 Malefactors were strung up in satisfying numbers whilst monarch and warden gambled and hawked together. Again, and rightly, the king’s biographer sees policy in this32, James stamping his authority on the ever-troublesome marches. This pattern of short, sharp shocks was to set the mould for much of the sixteenth century. For much of the time the royal writ simply did not run on the troublesome marches. Not all cross-border matters proceeded as smoothly or with such a degree of amity. One of the most notorious breaches of the standard conditions of truce days occurred in the spring of 1508 when Sir Robert Ker of Cessford was killed by no lesser rogue than Bastard Heron. Whether this was, as the Kers contended outright murder or the consequence of a duel is unclear. This incident still rankled by 1513 and James regarded the killing, or more particularly, the failure of the English administration to hand over Heron, as a significant breach of the terms of the treaty.
More incidents followed. Even before the Ker/Heron business, the Earl of Arran had been detained by English authorities on his return journey from a mission to France. This seems to have arisen from fears James was about to renew the French alliance. If so, such highhandedness was not the remedy. The king was understandably furious over Arran’s arrest. The earl had indeed been engaged in matters of diplomacy, for Louis XII had been soliciting James for military assistance. The war in Italy was draining French resources. James responded cannily, he had not the slightest intention of getting drawn into the whirlpool of continental wars33 but wished to remain on cordial terms with Louis. The king advised he was always willing to assist his traditional ally but rather more notice would be needed. This was most tactful. His ambassador Robert Cockburn, postulate to the Bishop of Ross, was instructed to reinforce this assurance. James was playing a skilful game, keeping the idea of the traditional French connection alive whilst not actually entering into any formal undertaking.
This did nothing to allay English suspicions which struck deep. Matters on the border, in the words of the later English Middle march warden Sir John Forster, as practised a reiver as ever was, continued ‘very ticklish’. Henry remained fearful that the Scots still entertained designs on Berwick and that James persisted in flirting with Louis XII. Arran’s detention had been a clumsy manoeuvre designed to frustrate renewal of the Franco-Scottish accord of 1492, when King Louis dispatched the capable Bernard Stewart, Sieur d’Aubigny34 as ambassador. Henry sent north young Thomas Wolsey, the coming man, already marked for advancement. The future cardinal’s observations, contained in his subsequent reports, are telling. James played an astute hand, advising Wolsey that he was under pressure from all sides of the Scottish polity to renew the French alliance and that he, and his council, were exasperated by the cavalier manner the English had adopted towards their treaty obligations. The English envoy rather cynically remarked that the Scots ‘keep their matters so secret … that the wives in the market knoweth every cause of my coming!’35
Wolsey picked up on the prevailing anglophobia and correctly deduced the policy behind it. Only Arran’s release would ease the tension. Some Scottish counsellors suggested that a dual alliance with both France and England need not be to the detriment of either. James did offer some reassurance, opining that if the King of England treated him kindly and acted as a wise father should, then he should have no fear of enmity.36 Arran was duly released. Despite this easing, D’Aubigny and his diplomatic colleague were treated with a far greater show of favour than the workaday Wolsey.
Providentially for England perhaps, Bernard Stewart expired of natural causes in June 1508. Undeterred, James sent the highly capable Gavin Dunbar, archdeacon of St Andrews, on a mission to France, sailing in the royal barque Treasurer. As ill luck provided the vessel, on its return journey, ran aground on the east coast of England. Dunbar with the other survivors was briefly detained and questioned before being released. James viewed this, understandably, as a repeat of the Arran business and muttered threateningly; sufficiently so for Henry to put the Berwick garrison on a war footing.37
But the English king was failing, his fears over Berwick and the border festered. He clearly viewed any increased amity between Scotland and her old ally France as damaging English interests. As had been pointed out to Wolsey, this did not have to be the case and, in any event, any such understanding was not an ostensible violation of the terms of the 1502 agreement. Suffice to say that when the old king died on 21 April 1509, relations were strained. Oddly, in the light of subsequent history, the accession of the brash young ruler, Henry VIII, did not result in further deterioration.
There was a brief honeymoon period and by the end of that November James, as he had undertaken to do, had solemnly ratified the Treaty of Perpetual Peace.38 All well and good except that, as events would show, this Henry was cut from a very different cloth to his parsimonious father. With a secure throne and full treasury, proof of the effectiveness of his parent’s cautious accrual, Henry VIII sought, from the very outset, to be a ‘player’ on the wider European stage. He was more influenced by the successes of his Plantagenet predecessors, Longshanks, Edward III, the Black Prince and Henry V.39 After all, where was the glory in careful accounting and good housekeeping?
Henry’s own biographer takes a dim view of the young king’s aspirations:
Henry VIII would lead England back into her past, into Europe and its endless squabbles, into another round of that conflict misleadingly defined as merely a Hundred Years War. He would reject his father’s notion of a king’s function, quickly dissipate his inherited treasure40
By the closing months of 1511, Henry had thrown off the shackles of his more conservative advisers, temperate residue of his father’s council, and formally joined the Holy League. The king was rewarded by Pope Julius II with the grant of the order of the Golden Rose,41 seasoned with a consignment of fine wine and cheeses. If Henry can be criticised for falling back into the old ways of warmongering, his subjects were unlikely to disapprove, Edward Hall least of all:
The King of England wrote often to King Louis of France to desist from persecuting the Pope, his friend and ally: to which correspondence he [Louis XII] gave little regard, whereof the king sent him word to deliver to him his lawful inheritance, both the Duchy of Normandy and Guyenne and the counties of Maine and Anjou and also of his crown of France, or else he would come with such a power, that by force he would attain his purpose.42
The young king was now allied to Emperor Maximilian and Ferdinand of Spain, not perhaps the most reliable of confederates, notoriously skilled in dazzling with empty promises. Henry’s youthful impetuosity was not yet the equal of their practised cynicism. For James this promised difficulties. To Scotland, the French alliance was a valued combination of longevity and expediency. Trade connections were essential and booming, diplomatic links long established. After extensive consideration James renewed the French alliance in 1512. Whilst this was not necessarily bound to conflict with the terms of the English treaty, it put both brothers-in-law firmly in opposing camps.
As Professor Macdougall ably points out, this decision was based upon sound policy rather than romantic impulse. James, at this point, did not desire war with England. He employed the able Andrew Forman, Bishop of Moray, in a Kissinger-like role attempting to reconcile the King of France with the Pope. In part, the renewal of the French accord was a gambit in this wider game. James was attempting to punch well above his weight in the councils of Europe and exercise a degree of influence only made possible by the presence of two larger armed camps, presently circling each other’s wagons. By allying himself with France he might apply the brakes on Henry VIII’s headlong ambition.
This was England’s Achilles heel. If English armies crossed the Channel, a Scottish army might cross the border. This eventuality carried considerable risks for both parties. Numerous Scottish armies had attempted this and come to grief. David II had failed and been captured at Neville’s Cross, Douglas had blundered and his forces bled at Homildon. Prior to the Hundred Years War, Malcolm III had been killed at Alnwick, King David defeated beneath the Standard and William the Lion come to grief, again before Alnwick.
If the business of Ker and Heron was not sufficient, the killing of Andrew Barton though unquestionably in a fair fight, added fuel to the creeping flames. Both James and Henry had experienced dynastic upset and personal grief when their respective infant heirs died. In Henry’s case this left his brother-in-law as heir presumptive and he reacted with childish and dangerous spite by withholding his sister’s legacy from her late father, a wholly unjustified and unnecessary provocation.
A series of diplomatic manoeuvres ensued. James assured Louis he had begun hostilities when he had not done so, the Frenchman responded that he would send to Scotland his client Richard de la Pole, the last Yorkist pretender. Henry had already taken the precaution of killing Richard’s younger brother Edmund but Louis was unlikely to surrender so valuable a pawn as the elder de la Pole.43 When James’ herald delivered the king’s ultimatum to his brother-in-law before the walls of Therouanne, the caustic rebuff featured a revival of the ancient claim of overlordship, dragging up the root of the Great Cause.
In the previous year, on 2 October, 1512 Louis XII had written to James:
He trusts the King of Scots more than any other prince because they are near of kin and because he has found in him cordial and loyal affection as in no other prince. He bids him to consider the ancient enmity which the English have borne to France and Scotland and still bear, and that it is necessary to diminish their pride and rashness because they intend to fight both countries at once and think nothing of it. Also they are allies of the King of Aragon, who, hiding his ambition under cloak of the Church, and founding in the Holy League a sect most dangerous to the Church, has joined the Pope, who approves his enterprises …
To resist the schismatic sect the King of Scots must do all he can, which is much, for he is powerful, has good soldiers and many valiant men in his kingdom. Equally the King will make his effort and yet will be glad to help the King of Scots as time and his affairs permit, and at the beginning of their campaign against the English will send 50,000 francs, artillery, cannon-balls and powder. He begs the King of Scots to approve this offer in which there will be no failure. De la Mothe will tell what was done by the Spaniards at Florence and at Prato, at the capture of the latter town such cruelty was seen as was never done by the Saracens. They killed men, women, and children, priest and monks, besides committing other nameless crimes, and the greater part of these Spaniards were circumcised persons not Christians, at least unbelievers in God and the Christian faith.
The editor cites Brodie who quotes the warrant by Louis XII for payments when sending de La Mothe to Scotland to present 100 puncheons of wine, 800 iron cannonballs and 15,000lbs of powder. The arrival of the ships carrying these goods was noted by Dacre on 8 December who also tells us that eight serpentines of brass had been sent as well. Wood also asserts that the aid promised by the French was misleading. The money was never to materialise ‘in spite of the later assertion of the King of England after the battle: of the rest, a part arrived in time; another part too late to be of any service.’ The wine, however, did make its way to James!44
Then, on 8 May 1513, Louis significantly upped the ante by making James a substantive offer of aid. He would bear the costs of maintaining the Scottish fleet on a war footing and provide cash subsidies to the value of £22,500 Scots, a most attractive inducement.45 James would also enjoy the services of the accomplished admiral Pregent de Bidoux leading a squadron of seven galleys.46 For his part, James would be required both to launch a land invasion of England and to lend the emergent Scottish navy for French service. Henry had no counter offer and the piled grievances, Ker and Barton’s deaths, Arran’s arrest and Margaret’s dowry remained outstanding.
Henry’s rather superfluous ambassador, Nicholas West, Dean of Windsor, was kept dangling. He had nothing to give and received as much in return. Even the queen, who might have been sympathetic, remained outraged over her brother’s spite. By 13 April, West had had enough; his mission was a fruitless one, the king of France made a much more attractive offer. James’ biographer speculates intriguingly about what might have been had Henry been prepared to proffer a substantive inducement. Even at this stage, war with England was not a foregone conclusion.
It happened in part because Henry VIII attached no importance to Scotland. James does not appear as the romantic or quixotic figure of his legend, quite the reverse. He is astute and worldly, vying for a place on the top table, and with a deal more finesse than his brother-in-law! One inevitable consequence of his French alliance was the enmity of Pope Julius who, virtually from his death bed, had excommunicated James on 21 February 1513. This was a serious matter, though the king may have drawn comfort from the knowledge that Robert Bruce had been similarly cast out of Christendom after the killing of Red Comyn and had triumphed nonetheless.
James sent the indefatigable Forman on yet another mission to Julius’ successor Leo X, begging he refrain from confirming the expulsion. This was to no avail for, in August, the new pope confirmed, by correspondence, that any abandonment of his treaty with England would justify a sentence of excommunication. James had in fact previously written to the late pontiff claiming that because of the various violations, he should be free to regard the 1502 treaty as void. Clearly this would not wash. Conversely, Julius II had made Henry VIII an astonishing offer. He would strip Louis XII of his crown and bestow the same upon Henry, the coronation to be carried out in Paris. All that was required of the king of England was that he first win his new kingdom by force of arms.47
Meanwhile and for no better reason than to provoke James, Henry had used alleged breaches of the treaty to resurrect the old chestnut of feudal superiority which the English parliament had confirmed in January 1512, when it voted for war subsidies:
After that it was concluded by the body of the Realm in the high court of Parliament assembled, that war should be made on the French king and his dominions, the king with all diligence caused new ships to be built and repaired and rigged the old, caused guns, bows, arrows and all other artillery and instruments of war to be made, in such number and quantity, that it was wonderful to see what things were done48
Nearer the border, Dacre was offering pragmatic advice, suggesting that simply paying across Queen Margaret’s legacy would suffice to defuse the rising tension. Sage advice from an old campaigner and successful border warden; needless to add it went unheeded. Dacre, unlike his sovereign, could not afford the luxury of complacency. His position was rather closer to the firing line and he was only too well aware of the weak state of the marchers’ defences – many towers slighted in 1496–97 had not yet been refurbished. To add yet further insult, the instrument chosen for delivery of the papal ban was Christopher Bainbridge, Cardinal of York, a noted Francophobe. The See of York had claims over the whole establishment of Scotland and Bainbridge was the least acceptable of messengers, one who had already meddled in Scottish ecclesiastical affairs.
James may have felt that Henry VIII was something of an innocent abroad in the Byzantine coils of European power politics. His two previous interventions, Darcy’s expedition to Cadiz and Dorset’s foray, had both ended in costly and humiliating farce.49 Even before the first shots of the campaigning season in 1513 had been heard, the League was already creaking. Venice had defected and patched matters up with Louis. Ferdinand, doyen of fair-weather allies, whilst expressing belligerence, had in fact concluded a year’s truce. In a sea fight off Brest against the formidable de Bidoux, Edward Howard, boarding with reckless gallantry, was flung lifeless into the sea from the Frenchman’s galley. Towards the end of May, James wrote to his brother-in-law, observing that his gallant admiral might have lived longer had his talents been employed against the Turk!50 No reply was forthcoming. War was probably now inevitable.
NOTES
1. Macdougall, p. 252.
2. Ibid., p. 251.
3. Perkin Warbeck (1474–99), after leaving Scotland the pretender finally landed in the disaffected West Country and, though he gathered a substantial following, lost his nerve at the critical moment, bolted and was finally captured. A sojourn in the Tower followed by a final journey to the noose awaited him.
4. The Battle of Stoke 16 June 1487.
5. Macdougall, p. 118.
6. Ibid., p. 122.
7. Ibid., p. 123.
8. Ibid., p. 124.
9. Ibid., p. 125.
10. This was Pope Julius II’s intended alliance against France, including Spain, the Empire, England and Venice – more formidable in concept than action, signed at Rome in October 1511.
11. Macdougall, p. 127.
12. Ibid.
13. One Mark = 13s 4d (c. 67p).
14. Macdougall, p. 128.
15. Ibid.
16. Ibid., p. 130.
17. Ibid., pp. 130–1.
18. Ibid., p. 131.
19. Heton Castle, since much rebuilt, the oldest surviving portion dates from c. 1580.
20. Phillips, G., The Anglo-Scots Wars 1513–1550 (Suffolk, 1999), p. 107.
21. Macdougall, p. 133.
22. Ibid.
23. Ibid., p. 135.
24. Ibid.,
25. Ibid., p. 138.
26. Ayton Castle, the current rather grand baronial structure dates only from the mid-nineteenth century.
27. Macdougall, p. 139.
28. Ibid., p. 140.
29. Ibid., p. 141.
30. Ibid., p. 249.
31. The ‘Debatable Land’ was a narrow strip of land stretching from the infamous Tarras Moss in the north to the Esk Estuary, no more than 3.5 miles wide, bordering on wild Liddesdale. It was a lawless threap and is first mentioned around 1450, its somewhat colourful renegade denizens continuing to cause trouble throughout the sixteenth century.
32. Macdougall, p. 251.
33. Ibid., p. 252.
34. Bernard Stewart, Sieur d’Aubigny (1452–1508), a Scot by descent but one who rose high in the French service and commanded the royal bodyguard in addition to a series of important diplomatic missions.
35. Macdougall, p. 254.
36. Ibid., p. 255.
37. Ibid., p. 256.
38. Ibid.
39. Scarisbrick, J.J., Henry VIII (London, 1990), p. 23.
40. Ibid., p. 21.
41. The Golden Rose is a sacred papal ornament blessed annually, and conferred as a token of respect or reward.
42. Edward Hall, King Henry VIII, vol. 1, p. 39.
43. The de la Pole brothers were nephews of Edward IV. The fact Richard fought for France (in whose service he was to die at the Battle of Pavia in 1525), sealed his captive brother’s fate.
44. Wood, Marguerite (ed.), Papers, Diplomatic Correspondence between the Courts of France and Scotland, 1507–1517 (Scottish Historical Society, Edinburgh, 1933; University Press by T. and A. Constable Ltd); Brodie, Letters and Papers of the Reign of Henry VIII., Foreign and Domestic, 1372 (National Library of Scotland, Adv. MS. 34).
45. Macdougall, p. 259.
46. Ibid.
47. Scarisbrick, pp. 33–4.
48. Edward Hall, King Henry VIII, vol. 1, p. 41.
49. In May 1511, Lord Darcy was dispatched with 1,000 troops to Cadiz ostensibly to accompany Ferdinand in a raid against the Moors. The expedition ended in ignominy and fiasco, Ferdinand as ever proved duplicitous and the English running riot, created mayhem. Dorset’s adventure was on a grander scale aimed at combining with Spain in an attack on Gascony. Again Ferdinand failed to deliver, see Scarisbrick, pp. 28–30.
50. Macdougall, p. 262.