Chapter 7

To Annoy His Enemies

The building work ordered at Dumfries in late 1300 was intended to be supported by other activity. After the removal of the English royal army from south-western Scotland it now fell upon Edward’s lieutenant in the area, Sir John de St John, ‘to bring to a good end his [Edward’s] business in these parts’.¹ St John had been captured in Edward’s service in Gascony, as we have seen, and spent almost a year as a prisoner of the French. He was not left to rot, however, because he was a man whom Edward greatly valued. After struggling to raise sufficient funds, Edward eventually paid a large ransom to obtain St John’s release. St John returned to England in time to take part in the Falkirk campaign, and in January 1300 he was appointed Warden of the Western March. His remit included responsibility for military affairs in three English counties (Cumberland, Westmorland and Lancashire), as well as in much of south-western Scotland (at least in theory).

St John followed in the footsteps of several others – including Robert Clifford, over whom the Caerlaverock poet swooned – but all had so far proved unequal to the task. Indeed, Clifford had specifically asked to be relieved of his office – probably due to financial difficulties – but he continued to take an active role in Scotland. He agreed to serve under St John for pay, as well as certain other privileges, though it was firmly stipulated that he should not take action on his own initiative. Clifford, it would seem, was widely admired as a dynamic soldier, whereas John de St John was a man who could take a broader view. St John was a proven administrator, as well as an experienced warrior, and Walter of Guisborough believed that his governance of Gascony had been popular with local people.² Towards the end of 1300 Edward hoped that St John would be able to bring Scotsmen ‘to the king’s peace’, thus avoiding the need to crush them into submission.

That is not to say, of course, that Edward had abandoned his more extensive military ambitions in Scotland, but his financial difficulties were now acute. A new parliament took place at Lincoln early in 1301. Edward (speaking through Roger Brabazon, the chief justice of the King’s Bench) bluntly stated his need for funds. But the king had already anticipated that in some areas he would need to give ground in his negotiations with parliament, because he expected more in return. On this occasion he requested a tax of a fifteenth from the laity, rather than the twentieth that had been demanded the previous year. The concessions sought from the king were outlined in a bill put forward by a Lancashire knight, Henry de Keighley. For Edward, the content of this bill must have seemed depressingly familiar, not least because the reform of the Royal Forest was yet again the main item on his critics’ agenda.

By this time the perambulation of the Forest had, finally, been carried out. As expected, the findings – in some cases admittedly drawing upon a rather dubious store of local memories – suggested that the Forest bounds should be drastically reduced. Edward eventually agreed to accept the ‘advice’ of a committee appointed to rule on the matter, and the members endorsed the results of the perambulation. Yet they also received an ominous reminder that Edward’s subjects had sworn oaths to uphold the rights of the crown – as had Edward himself, at the time of his coronation – and understandably this led to fears that the king would later seek vengeance against ‘traitors’.

Edward did indeed refuse to forget (or forgive) this setback,³ because he saw it as an assault on the royal dignity, and the acceptance of the committee’s judgement was the major point conceded at Lincoln. However, Edward also confirmed another concession that had been discussed in the previous parliament. This had direct implications for the war effort in Scotland, because it was agreed that the use of prise – a royal right that was originally intended to provide for the king’s household, and not for entire armies – would be severely curtailed.

Edward had accepted a (temporary) political defeat in return for the grant of the tax, but it is important to remember that his concessions were restricted to specific issues and were clearly defined. Ultimately the Lincoln Parliament would prove to be the last great domestic challenge of Edward’s reign. Outside England, of course, his troubles continued – not least because the king of France continued to be a thorn in his side. A return to open warfare between England and France had been averted, but Philip the Fair was now arguing that he was unable to consent to a lasting peace (and therefore the full restoration of Gascony) unless his allies, the Scots, were also included. More positively, in the wake of receiving Pope Boniface’s letter at Sweetheart Abbey, Edward had dispatched the earl of Lincoln to the papal court, accompanied by a high-powered embassy, and his ambassadors had received a surprisingly warm welcome.

Pope Boniface was a man who collected quarrels; at this time he was seeking to launch a ‘crusade’ against the kingdom of Sicily, having excommunicated King Frederick III, and as a result he needed funds. A deal was struck whereby the Pope would levy a tax of 10 per cent on the English church for three years, but Edward would be entitled to half of the profits. This neatly undermined the position of Archbishop Winchelsey of Canterbury, who had continued to oppose Edward’s requests for financial assistance on the basis that papal approval was necessary. Less positively, the increasing respect accorded to John Balliol in papal circles was a more disturbing development, and John himself appears to have taken a renewed interest in the affairs of Scotland at this time. By the spring of 1301 a new sole Guardian, Sir John Soules, who had spent time in France, emerged as the leader of the patriots in Scotland; it is generally accepted that he was personally appointed by the exiled king.

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The impending tax revenues in England meant that Edward’s financial position was stronger, at least potentially, than it had been for several years. Of course, the fifteenth and the ‘crusading’ tax monies would not appear in the king’s treasury immediately, but Edward now felt able to make plans with confidence for a renewed offensive in Scotland. The next campaign also had personal significance for Edward because he expected it to mark the emergence of his eldest son as a warrior to be respected and feared (even though the boy was still only seventeen). By this time the younger Edward had already gained military experience – he had taken part in the most recent campaign in Scotland, albeit under the watchful eye of the trusted John de St John – but on this occasion he would receive his first independent command. As Edward explained in one of his letters, he wished Edward of Caernarfon to have ‘the chief honour of taming the pride of the Scots’.⁴

Edward’s relationship with his eldest son was complex. Edward of Caernarfon was the only surviving boy from the king’s marriage to the late Queen Eleanor, and his father heaped upon the boy’s shoulders expectations that would have weighed heavily on any man. The younger Edward did have some personal qualities. He was tall and strong, like his father, and well suited to martial pursuits. Moreover, whilst he was later characterised as ‘luckless and chicken-hearted in war’,⁵ in truth he was no coward. There were aspects of his personality, however, that would prove him to be ill-suited to kingship and military command. Most significantly, he relied too heavily on his favourites, notably the handsome Gascon Piers Gaveston (although whether his relationship with Gaveston was homosexual in nature, as is often supposed, remains an open question). But of course most of Edward of Caernarfon’s failures still lay far in the future, and at this time Edward I still had high hopes for his son.

At the age of sixty-two, Edward I must surely have been acutely aware of his own mortality. In accordance with his new status as king-in-waiting, Edward of Caernarfon received a substantial endowment of lands, the core of which was provided by the royal holdings in Wales. Following his birth at Caernarfon, the young Edward had had no further connection with the Welsh, but now he was given the formal title prince of Wales (starting a tradition that has continued to the present day). In April Edward of Caernarfon travelled to his new principality, where he received the homage of his leading Welsh subjects, as well as the fealty of the powerful Marcher lords. In May the two Edwards spent time together at Kenilworth – then one of England’s greatest castles, with its distinctive red sandstone walls enveloped by a vast expanse of water – where they were also joined by the queen. In early June father and son set out for the north, seemingly united in the pursuit of a common goal.

In some respects the plans for the ensuing campaign were the most ambitious of the entire war. Along the way Edward and his son parted company, because it had been decided that the invasion forces would consist of not one but two armies: the first army, under Edward himself, would muster at Berwick and strike from the east; the other, under the prince (assisted by the earl of Lincoln), would gather in the west at Carlisle. Edward’s strategy in this campaign, then, was more akin to a vice than a hammer; any resistance to the English in southern Scotland would be crushed into submission by the weight of the combined onslaught. Ultimately, it is possible that Edward hoped to push on into northern Scotland, but the primary objective was surely to consolidate English control of Scotland below the rivers Forth and Clyde.

Both the English armies were substantial. More than a thousand English landowners were individually called upon to provide cavalry service for Edward’s army – another innovation that was never repeated – but unfortunately it is not clear how many appeared. However, the records show that, in addition to the cavalry, Edward gathered 7,500 infantry.⁶ The prince’s army, naturally enough, was mostly recruited in Wales, and may have been somewhat larger than his father’s. The prince was also later joined in Scotland by forces from Ireland. The king was disappointed that Richard de Burgh, the powerful earl of Ulster, did not join the host, but the justiciar of the lordship, John Wogan, brought over two thousand troops to swell the prince’s numbers. Wogan’s forces included more than three hundred hobelars; these lightly armoured mounted infantry, riding small, tough horses, would play an increasingly important role in Anglo-Scottish warfare.

In the coming campaign it was ordained that supplies should be landed on Arran (which was still held by Thomas Bisset of Antrim), as well as being conveyed by sea to the more usual destinations of Berwick and Skinburness, which would suggest that the routes of the armies were well planned. However, the recent agreements concerning the use of prise meant that Edward had to tread carefully when he requested provisions. On this occasion the crown entered negotiations with representatives from the counties to determine the amounts that would be supplied, rather than imposing arbitrary quotas (as had been the case in the past). The sheriffs were not instructed to gather resources until agreements were reached, and the counties of Derby and Nottingham were even permitted to appoint their own collectors. The purveyance of foodstuffs was specifically described as a loan, and payment was to be made from the proceeds of the fifteenth.

In fairness to Edward and his advisers, we have seen that they had recognised for some time that purveyance was a considerable burden; as early as 1296 concern had been expressed about the effects on the poorest.⁷ Payment for purveyance remained sluggish and uncertain, however, and Edward’s demands continued to cause resentment for the rest of his reign. Two years later feelings were running particularly high in Yorkshire, whose people had made a particularly telling contribution to Edward’s war effort in Scotland over the years.⁸ There were allegations of corruption through false accounting: there were complaints that if the collectors took five quarters of wheat, the official record would state that only four had been received. In Sleford one of the collectors, William of Wetwang, was pursued by a local man carrying a drawn sword.

The system of purveyance was never perfected, and Edward’s commissioners encountered increasing reluctance in some areas when they sought to recruit infantry. Nevertheless, it has been well observed that in 1301 men and resources were gathered ‘from every obedient corner of Edward’s “British” empire’, so that the one ‘rebel province’, Scotland, would be finally brought to heel.⁹ It should also be remembered, however, that many Scotsmen remained in Edward’s allegiance at this time. One such was Sir Simon Fraser, the hereditary keeper of Selkirk Forest. Fraser had been captured during the Dunbar campaign, but had earned his freedom through service in Flanders. Thereafter he had been trusted to take on his family’s traditional role – an extremely sensitive office, given the recent history of resistance in the Forest – and he had remained in post for nearly three years.

The English constable of Edinburgh Castle, John Kingston, had serious doubts about Fraser’s loyalty to Edward, and in the summer of 1299 he accused Fraser of writing letters intended to lure him away from Edinburgh, which was subsequently attacked by the patriots. Fraser’s integrity appeared to be proven when he was taken prisoner by the patriots and endured a brief period in captivity, and he was rewarded for his efforts in Scotland by becoming a member of Edward’s household. Now, though, in the summer of 1301, with Edward’s armies once again bearing down upon Scotland, Fraser resolved to change sides. Kingston’s suspicions were finally confirmed when Fraser left Wark under cover of darkness, stealing the horse and armour of one of his colleagues, before riding hard across the border. Fraser’s career in Edward’s service was perhaps echoed by later Scots in English allegiance: ‘But all or most of the Scots who were with the English were with them insincerely or to save their lands in England; for their hearts if not their bodies were always with their own people.’¹⁰

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As Edward’s forces marched into Scotland once more, in the summer of 1301, it might be suggested that Simon Fraser had chosen an inopportune moment to let his heart rule his head. It is possible, though, that the patriots expected great things from the diplomatic negotiations going on overseas. Certainly there were important developments in progress on the continent (which will be discussed in more detail below), but as the campaign progressed the English did enjoy some successes in the field. In July the prince of Wales penetrated deeply into south-western Scotland, bypassing much of Galloway and striking across country to Ayr. Here he met with the Irish, as well as having the opportunity to replenish his supply train. By the end of the month Prince Edward had taken the castle at Ayr – which had been left in peace for almost three years – and thereafter his forces moved southwards, along the coast.

Robert Bruce’s own movements remain obscure in this period, but there is some evidence to suggest the younger Edward’s army encountered some resistance from the patriots in Ayrshire.¹¹ The of 1299 he accused Fraser of writing letters intended to lure him away prince appears to have spent around another month in this area, during which time he also captured Turnberry Castle: this was Bruce’s most cherished possession and the caput of his earldom of Carrick. English garrisons were established at Ayr and Turnberry to ensure that both of Prince Edward’s prizes would be retained. Ayr became an important supply depot and centre of administration.

In the meantime, King Edward himself had been making laborious progress through the heart of southern Scotland, advancing cautiously through the wild country of Selkirk Forest, travelling via Selkirk, Traquair and Peebles. He was at Coldstream on 20 July, but it took a further month for him to reach Glasgow, where he received the pleasing news of his son’s successes to the west. The king also set plans in motion for the siege of Bothwell Castle. As far as the Scots were concerned, by this time Bothwell had been inherited by the three-year-old son of the late Andrew Murray (although the boy himself was growing up in the safety of the north). Edward, on the other hand, declared the castle and lordship of Bothwell to be forfeit (the latter was thought to be worth around £1,000), and both were granted to Aymer de Valence. But first, of course, Edward would need to take the castle, and its patriot garrison showed a willingness to fight.

Bothwell, at this time, was another modern Scottish castle. Whilst the extravagant plans of William Murray le riche had never been completed, even in its unfinished state Bothwell was substantially more formidable than Caerlaverock. The castle’s most significant feature was its massive round keep, or donjon, which is thought to have been modelled on similar examples in northern France (most notably at Coucy). In order to overcome the castle’s defences Edward ordered the fabrication of a giant wooden siege tower, le Berefrey [Belfry]. As was the case with most siege engines, Berefrey was moved in parts before being assembled at the scene. It took two days and thirty carts to convey the beast from Glasgow, a journey of about ten miles, and a new bridge was hastily constructed across the Clyde.¹² The Scottish earl of March, who remained in Edward’s allegiance, provided three ballistae (which resembled giant crossbows), and the besieging forces also included a party of miners from the Forest of Dean.

Unfortunately there are no good narrative accounts of the siege of Bothwell, so it is not known precisely how Berefrey was employed, although historians have a clear sense more generally of how siege towers might be used.¹³ Siege towers were often mounted on wheels, and could be as much as eighty or ninety feet tall. Usually several storeys high, their sides were covered with wetted ox-hides (because siege towers were otherwise vulnerable to incendiary assaults). A drawbridge near the top of the tower would allow the men inside to access the ramparts of the castle, and many siege towers incorporated a battering ram near the base. However, the key role played by siege towers was to provide a fighting platform for archers and crossbowmen; this was vital in order to counter missiles from the defenders, as well as offering covering fire for an escalade or an attempt to undermine the castle’s walls.

Naturally the defenders would not sit idly by while a siege tower was wheeled into position. It would sometimes be necessary for the besiegers to fill in ditches, or perhaps even to construct a corduroy road, made from carefully placed logs, to enable passage over rough ground; all this time the defenders would have maintained a constant stream of missiles. Mantlets (wooden or wicker screens) would provide some protection for the labourers, but this was difficult and dangerous work. Ultimately, though, it does seem that Berefrey played a significant role at the siege, because a siege tower known as ‘Bothwell’ was present at Edward’s siege of Stirling three years later: this might well have been the same machine.¹⁴ Even so, the defenders at Bothwell seem to have offered resistance for at least two weeks, although it is certain that the castle must have fallen by 22 September, at which point Edward moved on.

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What was the response of Sir John de Soules as Edward’s armies advanced through Scotland? The Guardian continued the strategy of the previous campaign, and both Edward and his son found the Scots to be elusive. The Lanercost Chronicle tells us that the patriots ‘would not fight with either army, but fled as they had done the previous year. Howbeit they took some fine spoil from the English and did much other mischief.’¹⁵ Clearly Soules was reluctant to offer battle, although his caution does not imply cowardice or indolence. Soules did not owe his promotion as Guardian to his military talents (he was a skilled politician, as well as a stalwart patriot), but he was determined to limit the impact of Edward’s latest invasion. What is more, he became more confident and aggressive as the campaign progressed, manoeuvring his forces with considerable flair.

In early September Edward received word from Sir Robert Tilliol, based at Lochmaben, informing him that the patriots (now including Sir Simon Fraser) had gathered in strength in central Ayrshire, controlling the road between the two English armies.¹⁶ Soules and the bellicose earl of Buchan were based at Loudoun Hill, another volcanic relic (like the Abbey Craig), which dominates the landscape for miles around. From here, though, Soules wrongfooted the English by suddenly moving south towards Lochmaben, where his forces assaulted the pele. The English position in the south-west was somewhat weaker than usual, because some members of the garrisons had joined the royal armies on campaign – as had John de St John. Tilliol reported to Edward (although he was almost certainly exaggerating) that the attacking forces numbered over seven thousand.¹⁷

The patriots were repulsed after two days of savage fighting – and with two English armies operating in Scotland the Guardian could not afford to commit to a long siege – but the Scottish forces then went on to pillage the surrounding area (despite the fact that the immediate victims were ordinary Scottish people). Thus a pattern was set for this and subsequent campaigns: the struggle for Scotland would become a war of attrition. No single army or fortress in Scotland could hope to stand against an English royal army, but as Edward’s forces made ponderous progress to the north, the patriots repeatedly sought to undermine his previous gains.

A flurry of communications from Edward’s commanders in southern Scotland indicates that Soules was causing panic in the region closest to the border. Tilliol, the man with the best recent knowledge, was convinced that Soules would strike next against the English marches, but slightly later reports, gathered from spies in the patriot camp, suggested that the Scots had withdrawn into the forests of Galloway. Edward was anxious for more certain news, and pressed his men for further information.

Ralph Manton, an important administrator, received word from Sir Alexander Balliol, a Scot in Edward’s allegiance, that ‘whenever the enemy issues from Galloway, he will know two days before and will warn the king by two or three messengers what road they take’.¹⁸ Balliol, as might be expected, was a kinsman of King John, but in his case there are no serious grounds to doubt his intentions (even though his reasons for supporting Edward are uncertain). Nevertheless, in early October Soules was able to out-manoeuvre the English again, appearing suddenly at Turnberry. The castle was retained, although the garrison endured a brief siege.

One might imagine that the prince of Wales should have been in a position to intercept Soules, although by this time he was based much further south. There are reports, for example, of a pilgrimage to Whithorn; it is not clear whether Prince Edward’s movements were still part of any pre-conceived plan. A small mounted force under the earl of Lincoln was dispatched to reinforce Lochmaben, but it is generally assumed that most of the prince’s army had now dispersed or had been dismissed. King Edward, however, remained more active to the north. Plans to invest Inverkip were abandoned (much to the chagrin of the earl of Lincoln, who had been ‘granted’ the castle), because he now had his eyes on a much greater prize: Stirling.

On 11 October Edward was at Dunipace, just eight miles from Stirling, although by this point the usual problem that bedevilled Edward’s campaigns in Scotland – desertion by the infantry, due to a lack of ready cash to pay wages – was beginning to take its toll. Back in England the collection of taxes was now in progress, but it was unrealistic – or perhaps even disingenuous – of Edward to suggest that the Exchequer should already be ‘sufficiently supplied’. Edward nevertheless dispatched a series of writs, urging greater efforts from his administration, because ‘each time some [money] has come, the amount has been far too small’.¹⁹ Anticipating stalling tactics from the Exchequer, Edward stated that he would ‘not accept the excuse that it is dangerous to transport large quantities of coin’ (even though this was obviously a reasonable concern).

In truth Edward’s officials at York had stretched every sinew to ensure the king was adequately supplied – both with coin and provisions – and it might be remembered that some of the tax revenues had already been earmarked for other purposes (notably as payment for purveyance). Moreover, the king’s demands that funds should be conveyed to him directly ensured that English garrisons in other parts of Scotland sometimes went without pay; as early as the end of August the garrison at Berwick was on the verge of mutiny and desertion. But still Edward wanted more: if only he had been able to cross the Forth, he claimed on 16 October, he ‘would have done such exploit against his enemies that his business would have quickly reached a satisfactory conclusion’.

Dunipace marked the furthest extent of Edward’s progress on this occasion, and thus another campaign came to a disappointing end. Yet Edward’s primary objective for this campaign – to establish an effective English presence as far north as the Clyde–Forth line – had already been achieved. By this time, though, the king had received disturbing news from the continent: John Balliol had been set loose from papal custody, and was now at liberty in northern France. Was the exiled king about to attempt a comeback in Scotland, with a French army at his back?

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John Balliol was always treated with consideration during his time under the Pope’s protection, although his freedom of movement was seriously restricted: in that sense, at least, the Pope had remained scrupulously neutral. It is often suggested that Balliol’s release owed much to French pressure. It might also be remembered that William Wallace had spent time at the French court, pleading for further support, although the reception he received from Philip the Fair was characteristically ambiguous. But there had also been continued debate at the papal curia, where both Edward and the Scots had made further efforts to convince the Pope of the justice of their respective positions. Predictably, Edward’s delegates made reference to the Brutus legend and the mythical exploits of King Arthur. More recent evidence was also cited to support Edward’s assertion of superiority in Scotland (such as the Ragman Roll).

The Scottish delegation was led by Baldred Bisset, later described by the chronicler Andrew Wyntoun as a ‘wise and cunning clerk’.²⁰ There is an appealing flash of dry wit in Bisset’s dismissal of Edward’s arguments: the king of England, it was said, ‘refers to many things but proves few things’.²¹ While Edward did not acknowledge the proceedings in Rome as a formal legal process, Bisset and his colleagues also constructed a more detailed submission.²² Some modern historians have suggested that Boniface must have been convinced by Bisset’s arguments,²³ therefore releasing John Balliol to pursue his rights. However, it is also possible that Balliol was removed by French agents, or absconded with their help, without Boniface’s active consent. Either way, by late October Balliol was established on his ancestral estates in northern France, clearly under the protection and influence of Philip the Fair. Understandably, Edward was deeply concerned about the implications of these developments.

Edward’s response to the renewed threat posed by John Balliol was twofold. First, he sent his treasurer, Walter Langton, by now well established as his most trusted minister, to enter negotiations with the French. Second, even though his army was now greatly depleted, Edward resolved to remain in Scotland over the winter. This was intended to ‘annoy his enemies’,²⁴ by whom Edward presumably meant both the Scottish patriots and Philip the Fair. An entry in the Lanercost Chronicle shows a good understanding of the significance of this decision: in the wake of earlier campaigns the patriots had been able to whittle away at the English position during the winter months.²⁵ Indeed, Edward now kept up his barrage of demands to the Exchequer, because he believed he ‘was in danger of losing what he had previously won’.²⁶

Towards the end of the year it did seem that Edward might have to give up some of his recent conquests, although in fact this owed nothing to the military efforts of the Scottish patriots. Langton was able to negotiate a long truce involving the English, French and Scots, and this would last until November 1302. However, it was also stipulated that all the castles and territory captured by Edward in the most recent campaign would be administered by Frenchmen for the duration of the peace.

Given that the French never arrived to take possession of any Scottish territory, modern writers have found it difficult to explain the meaning behind this extraordinary agreement. Philip the Fair’s motives seem especially puzzling, because there is no real evidence of any French preparations for an intervention in Scotland. Having said that, a number of arguments have been put forward to try to make sense of Edward’s thinking (or perhaps Langton’s on his behalf). One possibility is that Edward might have considered using Scotland as a bargaining chip, pushing Philip the Fair towards the restoration of Gascony.²⁷ But it has also been suggested that Edward decided to ‘call Philip’s bluff’ (in spite of the disturbing parallels with the agreement that had previously led to the loss of Gascony), thereby exposing the true weakness of Philip’s commitment to the patriots.²⁸

In any case, Edward conducted himself over the course of the winter as though he was unperturbed by his enemies’ plans. He celebrated Christmas at Linlithgow, where a modest manor house was adapted for his use. He was joined here by the prince of Wales and Queen Margaret, who seems to have followed the late Queen Eleanor’s example by joining her husband whenever possible. Edward also received the welcome news at Linlithgow that Robert Bruce, earl of Carrick, the former Guardian, had offered his submission (which Edward accepted once more). Naturally it has not escaped notice that Bruce’s patriotism cooled at this point, when it seemed genuinely possible that John Balliol might return to Scotland. Yet Bruce’s most pressing ambition was almost certainly to recover his position in western Scotland. Much of his earldom had now been lost, and Bruce had become an isolated figure in Scottish politics. His claim to the throne was still a distant dream.

Of course Bruce should also have been affected by the terms of the truce, as his lands and castles in Carrick had been captured during Edward’s most recent campaign; the deadline set for the French to take possession of the disputed territory was 16 February. By the end of January, however, when Edward hosted a tournament, it must have obvious to everyone concerned that the French had no intention of coming to Scotland. On 19 February Edward recrossed the border adapted for his use. He was joined here by the prince of Wales and into England, confident that his recent gains in Scotland would remain securely in his own hands.

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In practice, the passing of the February deadline made little difference to the wider diplomatic situation in 1302. Philip the Fair continued to profess friendship with the Scots, while exploiting the alliance for his own gain. But later in the year Philip encountered a major setback in Flanders, where he had established effective control after the failure of Edward I’s expedition there. At the battle of Courtrai on 11 July a substantial French army, including the flower of French chivalry, was defeated by Flemish ‘rebels’. It was an outcome that stunned the whole of Europe. The Flemish forces were mostly infantry armed with spears: the parallels with events in Scotland are inescapable. Philip was eventually able to reassert French dominance of Flanders, but this took a further three years.

Philip the Fair was also increasingly occupied by an escalating conflict with Pope Boniface. The trigger was a case involving a French bishop, whom Philip was thought to have mistreated. Much deeper and more long-standing issues were also at stake, though, as the great men of Europe sought to define the boundaries between spiritual and secular power. The dispute culminated in the shocking events of the following year, when Boniface himself was taken prisoner by a coalition of French forces and Philip’s Italian allies. The Pope died shortly afterwards, almost certainly as a result of harsh treatment in captivity. But in 1302 Boniface was still in a position to seek powerful friends – such as Edward I – and his long-standing sympathy for the Scots evaporated.

All of these developments ensured that Philip the Fair was forced to reassess his own situation, approaching matters with his usual coldeyed pragmatism. Philip quickly came to realise that he could not fight all of his enemies at once, and lasting peace with Edward I – who was similarly pursuing multiple objectives – now became an increasingly attractive option. This also meant, of course, that Philip began to reconsider the value of his alliance with the Scots. Evidently John de Soules discerned the change in the weather, and he was not naïve enough to trust in Philip’s promises. In the autumn of 1302 Soules travelled to France in person, in the hope that he might retrieve the situation for the patriot cause. Yet towards the end of the year, when Edward and Philip agreed an extension of the truce, the Scots were pointedly excluded. Suddenly, therefore, the winds had shifted in Edward’s favour.