Chapter 3

The Bodies Fell Like Autumn Leaves

Both sides mustered their forces in early March 1296, with Edward’s nobles instructed to gather at Newcastle at the beginning of the month. On this occasion the ultimate size of Edward’s army is not clear, but it is well known that he had ordered the exchequer to ensure that 1,000 men-at-arms (i.e. heavy cavalry) and an incredible 60,000 infantry would join him.¹ The latter is clearly an impossible figure: this may suggest that Edward was generally wise to delegate administration to others, although it also provides an indication of the extraordinary demands he placed on his officials. Nevertheless, even if Edward’s ambitions for the host were ultimately unrealistic, it is generally accepted that the army raised was a large one – almost certainly over 20,000 strong – supported by a fleet.²

Whilst Edward’s invasion of Scotland in 1296 is not the best documented of his military endeavours, academic historians have used a wide range of sources to reconstruct the composition of his armies in considerable detail. The relevant evidence includes pay rolls and horse lists (which were used to provide compensation for horses lost in the course of operations), as well as various other documents. Administrative records for this period are by no means complete, but we are extremely fortunate that so much evidence has survived. Other sources can provide useful information about military equipment, and a range of other matters.

A theoretical Edwardian army can largely be broken down into two components: cavalry and infantry. To a certain extent this can be misleading – sometimes the cavalry might dismount to fight, while infantry might sometimes ride to battle – although it does accord with the contemporary approach to army organisation. This chapter offers an introduction to military life at the time of Edward I, before moving on to provide an account of Edward’s first Scottish campaign.

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Edward’s mounted forces included the members of the highest nobility, although below this rank there were also numerous knights.³ However, the bulk of the cavalry was made up of men of significant but less exalted status, variously described as esquires (scutifers), sergeants (servientes), valets (valletti) or soldarii. (Medieval scribes were not always consistent in their definitions, so these designations should not be regarded as ranks in the modern sense.) A certain level of wealth was necessary in order to afford appropriate weapons and armour, although of course the quality of the equipment would vary. Acquiring suitable horses could be particularly expensive, not least because several different horses might be needed during the course of a campaign.

By the end of the fourteenth century the military elite almost always dismounted to fight in battle (due to the increasing tactical importance of the longbow), but in the Edwardian era they still preferred to fight on horseback whenever possible. For combat, a special breed of horse was desirable (one which no longer exists today), which was known as a destrier. Contemporary sources show that destriers had upright necks and large buttocks – clearly such horses needed to be large and powerful if they were to carry armoured men into battle – but the popular notion that destriers were the ancestors of shire horses was long ago discredited. Only stallions would be used in battle, as they were thought to be braver and more aggressive than mares. Some of the best horses were imported from abroad, notably from Spain: destriers were sometimes described more generically as ‘Spanish’.

As one might expect, destriers were particularly expensive to buy. Edward himself, as a keen rider and sportsman, spent large sums of money on horses of all kinds, but his war horses were particularly valuable. In 1297, for example, in the midst of a period of intensive military activity, Edward sold one of his destriers for £33 6s 8d, which he then replaced for the staggering sum of £66 13s 4d.⁴ To put this into perspective, both sums would have exceeded the annual income of many of his knights (and, of course, this expenditure did not include the subsequent cost of caring for the animal). Few other Englishmen could have afforded horses of such quality, but all destriers would have represented a considerable investment. The horse lists present some difficulties of interpretation,⁵ but they do provide a broader sense of valuations. During the period from 1282 to 1339 it has been estimated that the mean value fluctuated between £8 10s and £16 8s.⁶

In the late thirteenth century an elite warrior would have worn various kinds of protective clothing,⁷ although medieval armour was still some way from the peak of its development. Effective body armour has always relied on layers of protection, and medieval soldiers could choose from a range of options. Protective clothing during Edward I’s era was made from various materials, including quilted fabric, whalebone (often used to make gauntlets) and cour bouilli (hardened leather), as well as from metal. Men made their choices on the basis of a wide range of factors, including cost, personal experience and changing fashion – although, of course, new developments would not be adopted en masse.

A coat of chain-mail was a fairly standard piece of equipment, worn over an aketon (padded tunic), with chausses (mail stockings) to protect the legs. Chain-mail was widely used throughout much of the Middle Ages. An item more distinctive to Edward’s period was the poleyn, a piece of armour, often made from cour bouilli, designed to protect the knee. The poleyn was often attached to a gamboised cuisse, a quilted tube providing additional protection for the thigh. Poleyns were sometimes made of metal, and more substantial forms of plate armour were also starting to appear. During his prolonged stay in Gascony, for example, in the late 1280s, Edward bought a pair of jambers (shin-guards) in Toulouse.⁸ Nevertheless, body armour of this type does not appear to have been widely available, probably because the production process was still experimental, and therefore relatively expensive. For the head, a conical or sugarloaf-shaped great helm would offer the most effective protection at this time, although it could be extremely hot to wear in combat and restricted the wearer’s vision. Contemporary illustrations also depict other types of headgear, including the egg-shaped bascinet and the chapel de fer (kettle hat).⁹

When fighting on horseback, an elite soldier carried a lance or spear, but this would likely shatter on impact during the course of a charge. At this, the man would usually drop the stump and draw his sword – surely one of the most treasured and important of his possessions – although others might also have wielded a mace or a horseman’s axe. A mounted warrior would also have carried a triangular wooden shield, painted with the device of its owner. Aillettes – square or rectangular pieces of wood attached to the shoulder, perhaps originally to provide additional protection for the neck – were also painted with heraldic images.

The reference to heraldry provides a reminder that not everything a man wore or carried into combat was solely designed for his protection – at least not in an obvious sense. During this period a noble warrior would still have worn an embroidered surcoat over his armour (split at the front and back for ease of movement), which would have borne the same device as that on his shield. Of course, this would have helped others to identify the man in question. However, as there was a strong correlation between heraldic devices and personal or family honour, this might also have offered a source of pride and inspiration in the field. Many horses, when they appeared on the battlefield, would have been similarly decked out with colourful heraldic imagery; they were often covered with caparisons, made of decorated cloth. There are also indications, moreover, that horses could be armoured like their riders, protected by mail or cour bouilli.

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How was the cavalry recruited to Edward’s standard? An important component was provided by the royal household. By this time the household was a large and complex organisation, comprising several hundred people, which offered personal service to the king during peace and war. From a military perspective, the knights of the household naturally played a particularly important role. These men did not always reside with the king, but they were permanently retained: they received fees and robes on an annual basis. (‘Robes’ were lengths of expensive cloth, sometimes lined with fur, which would be made into lavish garments.) The knights of the household were not only selected for their martial qualities; they also served the king as diplomats, for example, and in a variety of other roles. Many of them were, however, experienced warriors.

Numbers within the royal household fluctuated, but in 1300 Edward retained fifty knights and thirty knights banneret.¹⁰ The latter were senior knights, whose status was marked by their right to display a square banner; the bannerets received a higher rate of pay and acted as officers during war. In addition to the knights, the king’s household also included ‘sergeants-at-arms’ and esquires, and each of the knights would be supported by his own small retinue. During a campaign the military capacity of the household might be expanded, and new members (known as ‘forinsec’ troops) could be temporarily enrolled. At the battle of Falkirk in 1298, for example, the household made up one of the four battalions of cavalry, with a fighting strength of around 800 men.¹¹

Much ink has been spilt over the question of how Edward recruited the rest of his cavalry. This is a complex subject, of which only a brief overview can be given here. In traditional accounts of post-Conquest England, it is often stated that the king stood at the apex of a ‘feudal pyramid’, constituting an elaborate military system; theoretically the king’s subjects provided military service, for a specified period of time, in return for the tenure of their lands (or sometimes in return for the delegation of other privileges). As we shall see, ‘feudal’ service could encompass a range of obligations, although the most significant of these was knight service. Quotas were determined for the numbers of knights that were expected to appear when a summons was issued, and the king’s greatest subjects would each provide a force of mounted warriors. However, by a process that remains opaque, these quotas had been negotiated downwards by the start of Edward’s reign.

Given Edward’s evident need for large numbers of effective fighting men on a regular basis, it used to be thought that Edward set in train a significant transition from a ‘feudal’ host to a more ‘professional’ royal army. In reality, it is unlikely that the specified feudal quotas had ever provided the kings of England with a force of cavalry that met their needs, and it is now well established that the novelty of Edward’s reign has been somewhat exaggerated. As early as 1100, for example, it is clear that military obligations might be commuted in return for cash payments (known as scutage), and the Norman and Angevin kings also appear to have recruited large numbers of paid warriors.¹² Nevertheless, as far as the recruitment of the cavalry is concerned, Edward did attempt to make some changes.

We have already seen that Edward was willing to provide payment for military service (assuming he had sufficient funds at his disposal), but on several occasions he also sought to widen the military obligations of the landed classes on the basis of their own wealth. The traditional means to summon the host was to issue writs to the tenants-in-chief: those who held land directly from the crown. However, in 1296 and 1300 Edward made a direct appeal to all those who held lands worth in excess of £40 per annum, at which point a man was expected to take on the office of knighthood, requesting their service in Scotland. Royal pay was offered to those who appeared – the standard rate of pay for a knight was 2s per day – although Edward probably hoped to exact fines from those who did not attend. But unsurprisingly the unprecedented nature of Edward’s demands was deeply unpopular, and this experiment was abandoned after 1300.

It must be stressed that there were some occasions, notably in 1298, when there was an enthusiastic response to Edward’s call to arms. Many of the aristocracy shared their king’s values and relished the opportunity to provide leadership in war, and there was a broader sense of obligation as a result of the fealty they owed him. The greatest lords often served voluntarily, nominating members of their retinues to carry out feudal service on their behalf, as well as bringing forces that were massively in excess of the feudal quotas. Moreover, whereas we might assume that the lesser aristocracy were always acutely conscious of the costs of campaigning, the great magnates were sometimes actively hostile to the idea that they should receive royal wages in return for their service. In the build-up to Edward’s second Welsh war, for example, the earls ostentatiously rejected Edward’s offer of pay, which ultimately compelled him to issue a more traditional feudal summons.

The magnates’ reluctance to accept royal wages was partly a matter of pride, although other factors were also important. The great nobles were probably wary of royal interference in the organisation of their retinues (from Edward’s point of view, of course, increased control would have been the key advantage of recruiting an entirely paid force), and it might be added that the tenants-in-chief had the right to levy scutage payments from their own tenants who did not serve in person. In 1300, for example, the earl of Lincoln was able to levy the sizeable sum of £125 from his tenants in the honour of Pontefract.¹³

There were a number of reasons, then, why the aristocracy might have resisted the ‘professionalisation’ of the English royal army. As Edward’s reign progressed, however, it has been suggested that the nobility began to resent the financial difficulties that gratuitous service could entail. Most of the warriors recruited to the banners of Edward’s great captains would surely have expected to be paid. For the majority of those who served with the cavalry, we can assume that the distinctions between paid, ‘feudal’ and ‘voluntary’ service had little practical impact.¹⁴

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The heavy cavalry – with superior weapons, armour and (sometimes) long years of martial training – could exert a disproportionate influence in the field. As we shall see, however, successful military operations required the effective combination of various different units (as has always been the case, and doubtless always will be). The numbers demanded fell as time went on – perhaps due to straitened financial circumstances as much as tactical considerations – but all of Edward’s armies included large infantry contingents. In Edward’s earliest campaigns in Scotland, before 1300, the forces he raised were enormous by the standards of the time. In terms of size at least, these armies would rarely be matched again until the seventeenth century.

Infantry soldiers were recruited by means of commissions of array. This process evolved throughout Edward’s reign; by the 1300s the commissioners appointed were increasingly men with military experience, including members of the household. However, local communities also had an important part to play in the assembly of the foot; each village or hundred would be expected to provide a specified number of men, whose suitability would then be assessed by the relevant commissioner. Those who were selected to serve received wages on campaign, the basic pay of an infantryman being 2d per day. Whilst this might seem to be a derisory amount of money, not least because soldiers were usually obliged to pay for their own provisions, an unskilled man could rarely have hoped to earn much more. For some men, as has been the case throughout the ages, joining the infantry represented a new start: there were several occasions when Edward offered pardons to convicted criminals in return for military service.

According to Edward’s Statute of Winchester (1285), every man aged between sixteen and sixty was expected to have weapons ready appropriate to his station, but in practice it would often fall upon the men’s communities to provide the equipment for the infantry. According to the chronicler Bartholomew Cotton, writing about a muster in East Anglia in 1295, this equipment consisted of white tunics, knives and swords,¹⁵ although many of the infantry would have been equipped with bows or spears. Once mustered, the infantry was organised into groups of twenty, with each group commanded by a vintenar. Five such groups, forming a hundred men, were commanded by a centenar. The centenars would in turn defer to a more senior officer, a millenar, who was responsible for the direction of a thousand men.

Edward recruited infantry from throughout his domains, including soldiers from Ireland, although the Welsh made a particularly important contribution: they fought in their thousands. Given that Edward had destroyed the power of the Welsh hero Llywelyn ap Gruffydd, and had only recently suppressed a popular rebellion in Wales, perhaps it may seem strange that so much of his army was made up of Welshmen. But it is important to realise that substantial numbers of the Welsh prince’s countrymen had fought against Llywelyn, and that Welshmen had served in large numbers during virtually all of Edward’s campaigns. It is clear that the king valued their service highly, and it is also very striking that Welshmen formed part of his personal bodyguard.

As infantry, the Welsh had gained an impressive reputation, for a number of reasons. First, they were widely renowned for their courage and ferocity in battle. Moreover, whilst we are still some way from the golden age of the longbow, when the ‘arrowstorms’ of Welsh archers rained death upon the nobility of France, the bowmen of Wales were already famous for their skill. Writing somewhat earlier in the Middle Ages, for example, Gerald of Wales had praised the men of Gwent in particular for their great strength and accuracy (although at this time their bows were made of elm, rather than yew).¹⁶ Gerald relates an anecdote in which Welsh archers loosed arrows with such speed and force that they were able to penetrate an oak door the width of a man’s palm.

The Welshmen were also renowned for their agility and hardiness: one Flemish chronicler, who witnessed Welsh soldiers on campaign, was shocked to see them still ‘running about bare-legged’ in the depths of winter.¹⁷ Born and bred in a land of hills and mountains, it is understandable that men with such physical attributes would be valuable additions to Edward’s armies in Scotland. Later events will show that Edward was conscious of the potential of his Welsh infantry to pursue an elusive enemy – as the Scots would often prove to be.

It is well known that several medieval kings enacted statutes that were designed to encourage ordinary people to hone and maintain their military skills; most famously there were laws passed, albeit somewhat later in the Middle Ages, to enforce archery practice, and also to ban distracting activities such as football. Naturally this would suggest that medieval commanders recognised the importance of infantry, but there remains a tendency to dismiss the footmen as little more than a rabble – notwithstanding the qualities of the Welshmen described above. Certainly infantry were prone to desertion (this was also sometimes true of their more exalted colleagues), although in fairness this could be seen as understandable when pay was so often delayed.

The infantry could also be ill-disciplined during the course of a campaign. Nevertheless, whilst medieval infantry would surely have fallen a long way short of modern standards of training and discipline, recent research has shown the existence of a cadre of professional soldiers amongst the infantry of Edward’s reign.¹⁸ These men have been described as an ‘officer-class’, able to provide an element of direction, experience and resolve amidst the larger mass of semi-trained levies.

The careers of several veterans, such as the wonderfully named John Bagepus, can be reconstructed in some detail; he was a highly experienced officer, though he also served on some occasions as a soldarius in the cavalry. Such men offered repeated service during Edward’s Scottish wars. During major campaigns they played a vital role as officers of the infantry, but they might also provide more extensive service as members of garrisons. Robert Lankerdaunce, for example, was the vintenar of a force of crossbowmen from Cheshire; he and his men provided almost continuous service in the garrisons of Berwick and Lochmaben between 1298 and 1301. Skilled crossbowmen, incidentally, were highly valued, and were often equipped at royal expense.¹⁹

In addition to the cavalry and infantry, the important role of auxiliaries – such as woodcutters, carpenters, smiths and engineers – should also be remembered. We have already witnessed the vital contribution of a group of reapers during Edward’s first Welsh war, and huge teams of woodcutters were also employed to hack a road through the dense Welsh forest. Auxiliaries were respected for their skills, and this was reflected in their pay.²⁰ It has been noted that the infantry received 2d per day, whereas woodcutters and ditchers received 3d. Smiths, masons, carpenters and miners all received 4d per day. Naturally foremen or particularly skilled craftsmen (known as ‘masters’) would be paid a little more. At 9d per day, the pay of a master engineer approached that of a knight. Such experts were responsible for complex operations, notably (though not exclusively) during sieges. Several of these men, such as Master Richard of Chester, will appear more prominently later.

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The previous sections have offered an introduction to the armies that Edward I led in his Scottish wars, but what of the forces that opposed them? We know much less about Scottish armies in this period than we do about the English, for the simple reason that much less evidence survives. However, scholars have assembled enough material to provide a rough sketch of Scottish military organisation in the late thirteenth and early fourteenth centuries, even if specific details are often lacking.²¹

One key difference between the two armies is that the Scots were rarely able to field significant numbers of heavy cavalry. Funeral monuments (together with some other evidence) seem to imply that members of the Scottish elite were often equipped in a similar fashion to their English counterparts,²² but the numbers who fought on horseback, in the English style, were substantially smaller. Some Scots did have a ‘feudal’ relationship with their king, specifically holding land in return for military service, but in the thirteenth century the kings of Scotland were more concerned to develop their economic resources.²³ The Scots nobility would surely have been accompanied on campaign by personal retinues, much as was the case in England, but Scottish armies in the Middle Ages were primarily composed of infantry. Scottish tactics on the battlefield were heavily dependent on massed ranks of spearmen, supported by smaller groups of archers and light horse.

Recruitment processes in Scotland remain somewhat obscure. However, the bulk of Scottish medieval troops appear to have been recruited according to the tradition of ‘Scottish Service’ (as it was specifically termed north of the Forth), forming a ‘common army’ (communis exercitus). Theoretically, all able-bodied free men owed military service to the king, and each area was expected to provide a quota of men. Command was usually delegated to the earls, whose titles were more closely aligned with real territorial power than was often the case in England.

It is generally believed that the rank and file of the Scottish common army were unpaid (although they were entitled to keep a proportion of any plunder that might be acquired), but their service was limited to forty days. There is scattered evidence, though, of payments made to Scottish soldiers (for example in the mid-1260s).²⁴ It might therefore be argued that at least some Scots must have received financial inducements to encourage them to serve in the more prolonged campaigns of the Wars of Independence.

There was a major disparity between the English and Scottish armies, it is often suggested, in terms of their experience. Many (though by no means all) of Edward’s troops who served in 1296 would have been veterans of previous campaigns in Wales or France, whereas the last few years had provided few chances for Scottish warriors to demonstrate their mettle on behalf of their king. A dramatic Norwegian account of the battle of Largs incorporates a respectful depiction of Scottish knights,²⁵ but few of those who fought at Largs would still have been active in the coming campaign. Somewhat ironically, however, Scottish connections with England had provided some Scotsmen with more recent opportunities. Some Scots had fought alongside Edward in his earlier wars in England and Wales; others (including Robert Bruce ‘the Noble’) had previously joined Edward on his Crusade. Many Scottish nobles, of course, were also English landholders, and as such they were sometimes called upon to meet an obligation to contribute to Edward’s military endeavours.

It is very clear, though, as they encountered the first serious English military threat for more than a hundred years, that the Scottish commanders were facing a daunting challenge. They would eventually find effective ways to negate the English advantages in the field – not least, as implied above, by exploiting their knowledge of the rugged Scottish terrain. But in the spring of 1296, as the Scots encountered Edward’s formidable war machine for the first time, their experience would be a difficult one.

The Scots’ efforts were also to be hindered because of divisions within their ranks: Edward was supported in the campaign by a section of the Scottish nobility. In part this might be seen as a function of the complexities of cross-border landholding, but there were some, notably the Bruces, who had never been reconciled to John Balliol’s kingship. Robert the Bruce ‘the Noble’ had recently died, and the new head of the family, Robert Bruce VI, chose to adhere to Edward, even though this decision led to the temporary loss of his lordship of Annandale. The death of Bruce’s wife Marjory also meant that he was obliged to give up the earldom of Carrick to his eldest son, Robert Bruce VII, although at this time the youngest Bruce still followed his father’s lead. Others who chose to support Edward included Patrick, earl of March, who remained consistently loyal to Edward for the rest of his reign, and Gilbert de Umfraville, earl of Angus.

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Edward appeared to hold the advantage, but as his army left Newcastle on 5 March 1296 the Scots were already making the first moves. The first flashpoint occurred near Wark, then an important border stronghold. This incident provides further evidence of the difficult choices that men had to make at this time. The English lord of Wark, Robert de Ros, was in love with a Scottish woman, Christine de Mowbray, and for this reason he resolved to change sides.²⁶ However, when Robert admitted his plans to his brother William, the younger man, outraged, sent word to Edward, requesting his support, and Edward duly dispatched a small group of men. Robert, now in command of a Scottish force, surprised Edward’s men while they were camped for the evening, although his attack failed. The Scots had arranged a password – ‘tabard’ – to avoid confusion, but when the English overheard this they were able to use it to their own advantage. Robert’s treachery (as Edward would have seen it) was ultimately in vain: he made his way to Scotland, but Christine rejected him and he died within the year.

Apparently Edward was unperturbed by the actions of Robert de Ros, perhaps because he could now depict the Scots as the aggressors – and of what the Scots had begun, he is said to have exclaimed, he would in due course make an end. But more significant events occurred in the west, where a substantial Scottish army, including seven earls, invaded England and threatened Carlisle. A Scottish spy had been captured and imprisoned by the city’s inhabitants, but when the Scottish army approached he somehow broke loose and started a fire. Mayhem ensued. In the confusion the Scots came close to taking the city, as the panicked defenders sought to extinguish the flames, but the attack was foiled by the city’s women. ‘Acting like men’, as the chronicler Walter of Guisborough put it, the women beat off the Scots by hurling stones and pouring boiling water.²⁷

The Scots’ failure to take Carlisle meant their incursion was ultimately no more than a distraction, and Edward had no need to alter his own plans. On 25 March he celebrated Easter at Wark, which was now back securely under English control. Here he welcomed the Bruces, along with the earls of Angus and March, and these Scottish magnates renewed their homage and fealty. Three days later Edward and his army crossed the Tweed near Coldstream, en route to his first major target: Berwick-upon-Tweed.

At this time Berwick was a thriving settlement. The years of relative harmony between England and Scotland had enabled the town to exploit its considerable natural advantages, not least as the closest Scottish port to Flanders. (This was significant because Flanders provided the key market for Scotland’s most valuable commodity: wool.) By the late thirteenth century much of Scotland’s overseas trade was carried through Berwick, and it became the richest town in the kingdom. As such it was a valuable prize, and naturally the Scots had taken steps to prepare its defence. In the spring of 1296 the population of Berwick was swollen by an influx of armed men. The town’s castle was garrisoned by a force under Sir William Douglas; the town itself was defended by men from Fife.

Edward sent messages to the town from Coldstream, formally calling for Berwick’s surrender. On 29 March the English army advanced to Hatton, six miles from Berwick, from where Edward himself pushed on to make an appeal in person. It is said that Edward offered generous terms if Berwick would capitulate – guaranteeing the lives and property of all those within – but the king was greeted with scorn.²⁸ The defenders taunted him with various insults, and invited him to try and dig his way in. Just in case he should fail to hear and understand their meaning, they also bared their buttocks. We can safely assume that Edward retired in a fury.

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On the following day Edward’s army made ready to assault the town. How can we reconstruct the events that subsequently occurred? Record sources can provide important insights into other aspects of military life, but our knowledge of military engagements is almost always based on chronicles: medieval historical narratives. Some chronicles were written almost contemporaneously with the events they describe, but it is well known that these sources offer various difficulties. Perhaps most significantly, the mental approach of the medieval chronicler was very different from that of the modern historian; medieval writers tended to adopt a providential scheme, often seeking to explain historical outcomes by reference to a divine plan.

Chronicles must always be used with caution, therefore, not least because their authors’ preoccupations did not always match our own. Nevertheless, it should also be remembered that many medieval writers were intelligent people who worked hard to incorporate useful material. The chronicle of Walter of Guisborough, who provided one of the fullest near-contemporary accounts of Edward’s Scottish campaigns, provides a good example. Walter was a member of a religious community; he was an Augustinian canon. As he was based at Guisborough Priory in North Yorkshire, it is extremely unlikely that he could offer first-hand information about events in Scotland. Yet he appears to have acquired information from local men who took part in the Scottish wars. He also made use of written documents that came into his possession, in some cases copying them whole.

Most medieval chronicles were at least partly based on other written sources – especially if they were produced in religious foundations, which were centres of literacy. For instance, whilst the so-called Lanercost Chronicle was certainly compiled at Lanercost Priory, near Carlisle, it is largely based on the work of two Franciscan friars who lived elsewhere. Both were northern Englishmen, however, and understandably this colours the outlook of the work as a whole. It is unfortunate that few Scottish chronicles have survived to provide a balancing narrative from the other side of the border. A notable exception, which has its origins in fourteenth-century St Andrews, is now referred to by historians as Gesta Annalia II. This is preserved as part of a larger compilation, and was formerly attributed to John of Fordun.

One of the most colourful sources for Edward’s Scottish wars is the Scalacronica, which is the work of Sir Thomas Gray. A knight from Northumberland, Sir Thomas appears to have taken to writing history when he was captured by the Scots in the 1350s; he was subsequently imprisoned for some time in Edinburgh. In writing the Scalacronica, he could therefore draw upon direct personal experience of warfare – a very unusual advantage. In truth, much of Gray’s work is based heavily on earlier written sources, but he also took the opportunity to recount the experiences of his father (another Sir Thomas), who was a veteran of the Wars of Independence. Other chronicles will be discussed in passing as the narrative moves forward.²⁹

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As the English royal army massed outside Berwick, Edward marked the formal opening of hostilities by knighting several young men. (The recipients of this honour included Henry Percy, a nobleman from Yorkshire who would become the ancestor of one of medieval England’s most powerful and famous northern families.) However, the commanders of Edward’s fleet, which was shadowing the army, misunderstood the meaning of this ceremony. Seeing ‘an army in arms and many banners displayed’, the seamen assumed the attack had already begun.³⁰ They moved to support the king, sailing into the harbour, but the leading ship ran aground. It was quickly surrounded by Berwick’s defenders, who set the ship on fire and killed the crew; two other vessels suffered a similar fate. The Lanercost Chronicle tells us that Berwick’s women became involved in the action (much like the women of Carlisle), assisting their menfolk as they set light to the English ships.

From his own position, Edward could see smoke rising from the harbour, and once he understood what had happened his response was fierce and decisive. The chivalric pageantry was brought to an abrupt halt, and Edward launched his men into the fray. Berwick did not have stone walls at this time, and the town’s ditch and palisade provided little obstacle to the English advance. The castle remained defiant – at least for the moment – but the English found a weak point in the urban defences and poured into the town. The only serious resistance was offered at the Red Hall, the headquarters of Berwick’s Flemish merchants, whose owners had promised to defend it on behalf of the king of Scots. Eventually, however, the hall was set on fire, and the Flemings perished in the flames. Now Edward’s soldiers ran amok through the streets, and a massacre ensued. In the words of William Rishanger, a monastic chronicler based at St Albans Abbey, ‘the bodies fell like Autumn leaves’.³¹

The chronicles suggest that as many as 15,000 people died, although this figure has (rightly) been rejected by modern historians.³² Nevertheless, given that it is beyond any doubt that a slaughter of defenceless people took place at Berwick, the question of numbers is not the only issue worth considering here. In particular, whilst a certain amount of looting, rape and killing was surely inevitable, is it significant that Edward himself is said to have been motivated by a desire for personal vengeance? According to Rishanger, he was enraged by the death of his young kinsman Richard of Cornwall, who was killed during the assault on the Red Hall: the chronicler goes on to tell us that, ‘angry like a boar pursued by wolves’, Edward urged his men on.³³

Edward was supposedly moved to halt the killing by the intervention of a group of clerics, who processed through the town carrying relics – although this last addition to the story has a distinctly formulaic quality. It is intriguing, nevertheless, that when the men of the castle’s garrison subsequently surrendered they were treated with much greater respect than was shown to the people in the town. The commander, Douglas, was taken into Edward’s custody, but the soldiers of the garrison were allowed to depart unharmed (albeit on the specific understanding that they would take no further part in the campaign). True, it was common for different terms to be offered if a siege proceeded in stages, but the contemporary conventions of warfare did not oblige a victorious commander to be merciful, even if the defenders had surrendered.

Without seeking to dismiss the importance of earlier events, it has been suggested that Edward was attempting to distance himself from the bloodshed in the town; his treatment of the garrison could be viewed as an example of franchise – the nobility of spirit that was so admired by ‘chivalric’ writers.³⁴ It also sent out a clear message that Edward was willing to treat his enemies with honour if they submitted and sought his grace. Yet doubtless there were many others in Berwick who would have submitted had they been given the opportunity to do so, and this reminds us that ‘chivalric’ courtesies were always extended selectively in war – and often only to the elite.³⁵ Moreover, whilst it should be noted that Edward was sometimes criticised by contemporary English writers for being too merciful, he was not always consistent in his approach – and his attitude towards defeated enemies would change and harden as the Scottish wars progressed.

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Berwick was a prize that Edward was determined to hold, and his men now faced the grim task of clearing the bodies from the streets. The halt at Berwick also provided an opportunity to hold a court-martial; a ‘plea roll’ has been preserved from this campaign, providing some interesting evidence of attempts to maintain discipline within the army.³⁶ Many of the cases that came before the court were much as might be expected: there were numerous instances of theft, squabbles over plunder and disputes concerning debts. But the roll also demonstrates that men could be punished for failing to carry out allotted tasks, suggesting that medieval commanders had greater expectations of their forces than is sometimes allowed. The centenar Richard le Taillur [sic] was fined one mark because he and his men had failed to perform ‘watch and ward’. Similar proceedings subsequently took place at Roxburgh, Edinburgh, Perth and various other places.

Edward was still at Berwick on 5 April 1296 when he received John Balliol’s diffidatio, or defiance: a formal renunciation of his homage and fealty, filled with indignation. As well as outlining the ‘grievous and intolerable injuries’ that Edward had inflicted against the Scots and their king, carried out ‘in a manner which offends against God and against justice’, John’s letter also argues that his homage had been extorted by ‘extreme coercion’.³⁷ In Edward’s eyes, naturally John’s words had no validity. But it was characteristic of Edward that he ordered his notary John of Caen to make a careful copy of the letter, ‘as fuller evidence of the matters aforesaid’.

The Scots also made a more tangible response to Edward’s sack of Berwick, as their forces were once again in action south of the border. The earls of Mar, Ross and Menteith by-passed Edward’s great army and rampaged through Northumberland. Several English chroniclers assert that their forces committed terrible atrocities, suggesting that the English did not have a monopoly in brutality. The Lanercost Chronicle provides a particularly graphic account.³⁸ Proving themselves ‘apt scholars in atrocity’, it is said, the Scots ‘raised aloft little children pierced on pikes, to expire thus and fly away to the heavens’. The author claims that the Scots raped and killed nuns and other women in consecrated churches, which were then destroyed. This raid also became notorious for the story that the Scots burned alive a group of schoolboys at Corbridge (or Hexham, according to the Lanercost account), and Edward made much of this in later propaganda.³⁹

It is not easy to determine how to interpret such evidence. There are comparable descriptions (in fact, in some cases, almost word for word) of earlier Scottish raids. When David I invaded England in 1138, for example, it was reported that his troops from Galloway (notorious for their savagery) had indulged in a similar range of gruesome activities.⁴⁰ But does this mean that the various chroniclers were recording terrible events that genuinely reoccurred? Or were these writers, perhaps influenced by biblical imagery (such as Herod’s Massacre of the Innocents), drawing upon a cultural reservoir, deliberately constructing an image of the Scots as bloodthirsty barbarians? Perhaps it can be difficult for historians to accept that human beings can treat others with such sickening cruelty. Yet before we dismiss the chronicle accounts as rhetoric, we might consider evidence from our own times that should probably make us pause.

On their return to Scotland the Scottish earls captured Dunbar Castle, which belonged to the earl of March. In another interesting case of divided loyalties, whilst the earl had given his allegiance to Edward, his countess had opened the gates to the Scottish commanders. Edward dispatched one of his most committed supporters, his old companion-in-arms John de Warenne, earl of Surrey (often referred to as the Earl Warenne), with a significant detachment to besiege Dunbar. Surrey, it might be noted, was John Balliol’s father-in-law, yet he does not appear to have suffered any conflict of loyalties. Reacting in his turn, King John sent a Scottish force from Haddington to relieve the besieged garrison.

At noon on 27 April the relief force appeared near Spott, on the high ground overlooking Dunbar, on the edge of the Lammermuir Hills. Now the Scottish garrison disparaged Surrey’s forces from the walls of Dunbar castle, threatening to cut off their tails.⁴¹ The bizarre notion that the English had tails was frequently asserted by their enemies (including both the Scots and the French), although it might be argued that the Scots’ bravado would once again prove to be misplaced. The English turned to confront the new threat, but the commanders of the relieving army misinterpreted Surrey’s subsequent manoeuvres as preparations for flight. With cries of ‘They flee! They flee!’, the Scots launched a ragged charge, but their attack was a dismal failure.⁴² The English quickly gained the advantage, and the Scottish force was defeated. In the words of one English chronicler, now the Scots ‘fled headlong all together, hunted by the English like wild beasts amid general derision’.⁴³

The English exulted in their victory: snatches of popular songs, which must have circulated widely, have been preserved in various places. Some were included in the chronicle of Peter Langtoft, a canon from Bridlington who is justly notorious for his hostility towards the Scots. One of these rhymes been translated into modern English as follows:

For those Scots,

I rate ’em as sots,

What a sorry shower!

Whose utter lack

In the Attack

Lost ’em at Dunbar.⁴⁴

Edward was later informed that over 10,000 Scots had been killed at Dunbar, but it has often been argued that the scale of the fighting has been exaggerated.⁴⁵ It is not at all clear that the entire Scottish host was engaged, as is sometimes suggested, because King John and the Comyns remained in arms to the north. Nevertheless, the effect on Scottish morale was profound.

Edward and the rest of his army arrived at Dunbar the following day, and he was able to accept the surrender of the castle in person. Again he showed mercy to the leaders (and there is no suggestion of any reprisals against the rest of the garrison), but the earls of Mar and Ross,⁴⁶ together with many other knights and esquires, were later taken south as prisoners. Others had already surrendered after the battle. On this occasion there was little honour in defeat; the Scots, to the number of over a hundred, were transported to England in shameful conditions. Langtoft tells us they were conveyed ‘by two and two together mounted on a hackney, some in carts, with fetters on the feet’.⁴⁷ References to these men are plentiful in English records, because many of them languished in English captivity for several years; a large proportion eventually died there.

* * * *

After the battle of Dunbar Edward’s campaign became more like a procession, as his army was virtually unopposed. James, hereditary steward of Scotland, surrendered Roxburgh Castle to Edward’s representatives, and many other Scottish commanders followed suit. Short sieges were necessary at Edinburgh and Linlithgow, but the garrison of Stirling abandoned the castle, apparently leaving the keys hanging above the gates.⁴⁸ Some Scots in Edward’s allegiance were also active on his (and their own) behalf. The Bruces, for example, were able to re-establish control of their lands in Annandale and Carrick. Edward himself, in pursuit of King John and his Comyn allies, and accepting the submissions of local leaders as he went, ultimately marched as far north as Elgin.

John Balliol’s proud words had proved to be nothing more than hot air. The defeats at Berwick and Dunbar should not have been decisive, yet Balliol’s resolve had crumbled almost immediately in the face of adversity. It is difficult to escape the conclusion that on this occasion the collapse of Scottish resistance owed rather more to John’s failure of leadership than it did to Edward’s qualities of command. Indeed, John was now quick to seek terms, and there were some negotiations towards that end. But Edward, ruthlessly exploiting Balliol’s abject position, would ultimately accept nothing less than total surrender. John’s life was spared, but he was forced to undergo a humiliating ceremony at Montrose, where the royal arms were ritually torn from his person; thus he gained the nickname ‘toom tabard’ (‘empty surcoat’). He was then taken south to captivity in England, no longer a king in Edward’s eyes. John Balliol would never set foot in Scotland again.

Edward attempted to consolidate his triumph by symbolic and political means. The famous Stone of Destiny – on which the Scottish kings sat at their inauguration – was removed from Scone to Westminster Abbey, where it joined other precious items taken previously from the Welsh.⁴⁹ The submissions of leading Scottish landowners – to the number of over 1,500 – were recorded in the so-called ‘Ragman Roll’. Edward did not adopt any new titles, and there was no official statement about a change in status of the kingdom of Scotland, but the implications were clear. Peter Langtoft took up the subject with enthusiasm, connecting Edward’s new mastery of the British Isles with a reputed prophecy of Merlin:

Now are the two waters united in one.

Which have been separated by great mountains.

… Now are the islanders all joined together.

… There is neither king nor prince of all the countries

Except King Edward, who has thus united them;

Arthur had never the fiefs so fully.⁵⁰

Despite his advancing years, Edward had once again demonstrated his ability to lead his armies to victory. Ten years of rising tensions between England and Scotland had culminated in a military conquest that was accomplished with almost embarrassing ease. Delegating authority in Scotland to the earl of Surrey, we find Edward in a relieved but contemptuous mood: ‘He does good business’, he quipped, ‘who rids himself of shit.’⁵¹ Yet the extent of Edward’s success was deceptive. To be fair to John Balliol, fate had dealt him a difficult hand, but the Scots would find more resolute and effective leaders in the coming years. Moreover, whilst it might be anachronistic to talk of ‘nationalism’ in the thirteenth century, the independent kingdom of Scotland was an ancient and tenacious concept – and it would take more than the removal of symbolic artefacts to erase this idea from men’s hearts and minds. In short, Edward’s Scottish wars had only just begun.