Chapter 9

Burn, Kill and Raise the Dragon

After the fall of Stirling Castle in July 1304, Edward spent a further month in Scotland. Towards the end of August he recrossed the border into England. He would never set foot in Scotland again. The rest of this year provided the opportunity for some leisure, and for the king to recover his strength. He stayed for almost two months at the royal manor of Burstwick in Yorkshire, and from there the royal court moved on to Lincoln, where Christmas was spent. Doubtless the king enjoyed the festivities, as the celebrations were unusually extravagant. The chronicles suggest that he was in a particularly generous mood, making lavish gifts to his followers. Dispensing his largesse as ‘the king and lord of the monarchy of two realms’, this was one of the high points of Edward’s reign.¹

In some respects this triumphant mood was maintained for much of the following year, but Edward was not content to rest on his laurels. For one thing, he became increasingly preoccupied with the question of crime in England, which had risen to disturbing levels during his absence in Scotland. There was a strong correlation between the level of disorder and Edward’s wars, and a number of relevant incidents have been mentioned above. However, the most alarming development was the prevalence in several counties of armed gangs known as ‘trailbastons’ (from the French word for club, bâton), whose members engaged in violent robbery and extortion. Itinerant ‘trailbaston commissions’ were established, as a major new measure to target criminality. Their activities were controversial at the time, and modern historians have debated their effectiveness, but this initiative should undoubtedly be regarded as a serious attempt to address a genuine problem.²

Edward took a personal interest in the workings of the legal system, although of course he also turned his attention to other matters, including the settling of some personal scores. By this point he had reached an accommodation, of sorts, with the earl of Norfolk, but another old adversary, Archbishop Winchelsey of Canterbury, came under sustained attack. In early 1306 the new Pope, Clement V – a Gascon who was generally more amenable to Edward’s wishes than Boniface VIII had been – was persuaded to suspend Winchelsey from office. At around the same time Clement absolved Edward of the oaths he had sworn to uphold various concessions he had made (concerning the Royal Forest and other matters), so the king’s hostility to Winchelsey might be situated within a larger context.

There were also disputes with others, however, notably the bishop of Durham, Edward’s former friend and companion-in-arms. Perhaps most significantly, there were a number of clashes between Edward and the prince of Wales. In the summer of 1305 Edward of Caernarfon became involved in a dispute with Walter Langton – apparently the prince had trespassed in one of Langton’s parks – and this eventually led to a period of estrangement between father and son. King Edward was enraged when the prince insulted Langton in public, and banished his son from his presence.

Whilst Edward did not flinch from new conflicts, he also made renewed efforts to forge a lasting settlement in Scotland. In March 1305 a new parliament was summoned to Westminster. Towards the end of the session a mass took place at the abbey, in which Edward gave thanks for his victory over the Scottish patriots. This might appear rather insensitive, given that a number of leading Scots were present at the parliament, but Edward also took pains to consult them about the best way forward in Scotland. The three men chosen to give the king advice were Robert (VII) Bruce, John de Mowbray (an associate of John Comyn) and Robert Wishart, bishop of Glasgow.

Wishart, it might be recalled, had been a stalwart opponent of Edward’s, and he had earlier been imprisoned in England. Released in 1300 on the understanding that he would act obediently to Edward in Scotland, he had continued to give tacit support to the patriot cause. Yet Edward had accepted Wishart’s submission once again in 1304, and it is clear that the king now wished to reach an accommodation with leading figures of the Scottish establishment. It was agreed that the Scottish political community would be given time to consult amongst themselves, before further discussions would take place in the autumn.

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Even Simon Fraser was permitted to renew his fealty to Edward, but one of the patriot leaders was pointedly excluded from the growing spirit of reconciliation. This man, of course, was William Wallace, who was still at large in Scotland. As early as March 1304, in a letter to Alexander de Abernethy, Edward singled out Wallace for special treatment:

And in reply to the matter wherein you have asked us to let you know whether it is our pleasure that you should hold out to William le Waleys [sic] any words of peace, know this, that it is not our pleasure by any means that either to him, or to any other of his company, you hold out any word of peace, unless they place themselves absolutely and in all things at our will, without any exception whatever.³

It is often suggested that Edward’s attitude towards Wallace was clouded by personal animosity, and that he is diminished by his failure to recognise a worthy adversary.⁴ Yet it might also be remembered that, unlike the Comyns and Bruces, as well as many others, Wallace’s own status in Scotland was almost entirely derived from his implacable opposition to Edward’s will: is it realistic to imagine that Edward could have found a place for such a man in the new Scotland he was trying to create? There is an intriguing passage in Langtoft’s chronicle which suggests that Wallace did make a tentative offer of surrender, but that Edward refused to consider his terms.⁵ Given that Wallace was ultimately not willing to submit ‘absolutely’, Edward was able to avoid the dilemma that his surrender might conceivably have posed.

Edward made the capture of Wallace another test of loyalty for Scots, such as Abernethy, who were now in English allegiance. In late 1304 John Comyn of Badenoch and Simon Fraser (among others) received orders to lend their support to the hunters, and it was noted that Edward would ‘watch to see how each of them conducts himself’.⁶ Robert Bruce had also been encouraged to pursue Wallace, somewhat earlier, after helping Segrave to best Wallace at Happrew: ‘As the cloak has been well made, make the hood also.’⁷ Yet eventually the dubious honour of taking Wallace fell to another Scot, Sir John Menteith. Wallace was captured near Glasgow in early August 1305, apparently while visiting a lover.⁸ As is so often the case in such circumstances, there is a strong possibility that Wallace was betrayed by someone close to him.

On 22 August Wallace was brought into London, although Edward ostentatiously ignored him. On the following day he was tried at Westminster. He was accused of treason, as well as various other transgressions: these included the murder of the sheriff of Lanark; convening illegal parliaments; and encouraging the Scots to pursue the French alliance. Wallace spoke out only once, to deny the charge of treason; unlike most of the Scottish leaders, Wallace had never sworn an oath of allegiance to Edward, but his outburst was disregarded. Otherwise, as the account of his ‘crimes’ was read out to the court, Wallace made no further response. This is hardly surprising. It has been well observed that, in a different context, the list of charges might well have been given as a record of Wallace’s achievements.⁹

The outcome, of course, was never in doubt. It was ordained that Wallace should be dragged through the streets of London to Smithfield, the place of execution, where he would be hanged, drawn and quartered. The gory details are well known and need no further elaboration here, although it is perhaps worth noting that, contrary to popular belief, this form of execution was not invented for Wallace.¹⁰ Once sentence had been carried out, Sir John Segrave was given the task of escorting the ‘quarters’ northwards, where they were displayed, respectively, at Newcastle, Berwick, Stirling and Perth. Wallace’s head remained in the capital, where it was exhibited for some time on London Bridge. Thus ended the remarkable life of Sir William Wallace; his legend has endured.

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Edward himself was not present either at Wallace’s trial or at his execution – instead he spent the day hunting – but he would soon need to return to Scottish affairs. It must be said, however, that Wallace’s execution had little obvious impact – at least not in the short term. In September 1305 Edward welcomed a Scottish delegation to London as planned. Negotiations took place between the Scots and members of Edward’s council, and eventually a broad outline for the future governance of Scotland was agreed. Not all of this could possibly have been to the Scots’ liking, but the English also made a number of concessions.

Scotland was now to be regarded as a ‘land’ [terre] rather than a kingdom – a significant step – and it would be ruled in Edward’s name by a lieutenant; this role was to be given to the king’s nephew, John of Brittany.¹¹ However, the lieutenant was to be advised by a council that was made up almost entirely of Scotsmen, and four English justiciars would be matched by Scottish counterparts. The majority of sheriffs were to be Scots, in marked contrast to Edward’s administration of 1296. Nevertheless, there were still a number of outstanding issues. Perhaps most significantly, as the pendulum had swung between Edward and the patriots, lands had been won and lost, and now there were competing claims of ownership. Yet some progress was made towards resolving this matter; generally it appears to have been anticipated that Scotsmen who had lost lands would be able to regain them, whereas the ‘new’ owners would receive cash compensation.

None of the above would have been possible without the king’s assent, and Edward surely deserves a certain amount of credit for attempting to provide a more inclusive form of government in Scotland. Indeed, he was said to be delighted by the outcome of the process, but of course his efforts did not ultimately result in a permanent settlement. On 10 February 1306 Robert Bruce, earl of Carrick, met John Comyn, lord of Badenoch, in the church at Dumfries. Once again, there was an argument between them, and Bruce drew a weapon; shortly afterwards Comyn lay dead. Very soon all of Edward’s plans for the peaceful governance of Scotland would lie in tatters.

It appears that Bruce’s entourage also became involved in the fracas, and that Bruce was not the only man to strike a blow, although it is extremely uncertain exactly what happened and why.¹² It is usually assumed that the cause of the quarrel between the two men lay in Bruce’s claim to the throne, and his inability to secure Comyn’s support for a new insurrection against Edward’s rule. Certainly there is circumstantial evidence to suggest that Bruce had never abandoned his personal ambitions – and is it significant that Bruce’s father had passed away some time before, meaning that he was now free to pursue the family’s claim in his own right?¹³ It is also possible, however, that the meeting with Comyn was organised to address more routine local matters, before old memories and resentments flooded to the surface.¹⁴

At any rate, irrespective of his original intentions at Dumfries, Bruce was now in a dangerous position; he had put himself outside Edward’s peace, and Comyn’s friends and kinsmen would soon be clamouring for his death. He had also abused a sacred place by causing blood to be shed in a church, and he would later be excommunicated by the Pope. The time for caution was surely past, but Bruce appears to have hesitated before taking the next fateful step. Nevertheless, on 25 March 1306, at the traditional location in Scone, Robert Bruce was acclaimed king of Scots.

In truth Bruce was still the leader of a faction, but he did attract considerable support from the Scottish nobility. Obviously the Stone of Destiny was missing at his inauguration (by this time Edward had commissioned the famous Coronation Chair to hold it at Westminster), although Bishop Wishart provided vestments for the new king to wear. Wishart clearly set little store by his promises to Edward I, and he was even prepared to forgive sacrilege if it would advance the patriot cause; he had already absolved Bruce of the death of Comyn and urged him on. Sir Simon Fraser was another who eventually joined Bruce, as did the earl of Atholl. Intriguingly, Bruce also gained the support of Isabel, countess of Buchan, who abandoned her Comyn husband. At Scone she took on the traditional role of her young nephew, the earl of Fife, placing a crown on Bruce’s head.

This was a dramatic moment, yet Bruce’s wife was apparently unimpressed. His second wife, Elizabeth de Burgh was the daughter of the earl of Ulster; the marriage had been arranged at a time when Bruce appeared to stand high in Edward I’s favour. Now, it is said, she mocked her husband as the ‘King of Summer’ (just as flowers soon lose their lustre).¹⁵ Others were also unmoved. Some noblemen, like Earl Malise of Strathearn, now considered themselves honour-bound to hold true to their allegiance to Edward; when called upon to give support to Bruce, Strathearn famously contended that his oath was not ‘fragile like glass’.¹⁶ And, of course, the members of the powerful Comyn network, most of them former patriots, also ranged themselves against Bruce – and alongside Edward.

Bruce, then, was facing formidable odds, though from a military perspective he had already acted with speed and decision. In a more effective echo of his grandfather’s attempted coup of 1286, Bruce launched a lightning campaign throughout south-western Scotland, taking the English and their Scottish allies by surprise. A number of key fortresses, including Ayr, Dalswinton and Inverkip, were taken by Bruce’s men. Other castles, such as Lochmaben, Dunaverty on the Isle of Bute, and Loch Doon (a formidable Bruce stronghold on an island in a loch), were also garrisoned by the new King Robert’s supporters. Bruce remained in contact with Edward’s officials (although in this case it is unlikely that Edward would have shown any readiness to negotiate), but he adopted a confident and aggressive attitude. He was willing to defend himself, he said, with ‘the longest stick that he had’.¹⁷

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At first, Edward appears not to have understood the implications of the events at Dumfries, not least because he was not aware that Bruce was responsible. A letter written on 24 February expressed his concern that Comyn had been killed by ‘some people’ [my italics] who were doing their best to ‘trouble the peace and quiet’ of Scotland.¹⁸ At length, of course, Edward learned the truth. And when he heard that Bruce had claimed the throne of Scotland, we must imagine that his rage was terrible to behold. In the words of John Barbour, in his epic poem about the life of Robert Bruce, Edward ‘went almost out of his mind’.¹⁹

Barbour was writing around seventy years later (albeit drawing upon more contemporary sources). Perhaps, then, it was no more than coincidence, yet the shock of Bruce’s rebellion did coincide with a serious deterioration in Edward’s health. For much of the spring the king did not stir from Winchester, and there can be no doubt that illness was the cause of his prolonged stay in the city. When he finally moved on, around the middle of May, he was transported in a litter. Later evidence records payments for special ointments, particularly for his legs, and he was also troubled by his neck (for which a kind of plaster was made).²⁰ This may perhaps indicate severe arthritis, although it is possible that the king was also suffering from various other ailments.

We have seen that Edward was already conscious of his age, but in spite of his growing infirmity he continued to delegate authority rather than abdicate responsibility. By this time he had outlived most of his contemporaries (the earl of Lincoln was a notable exception), which meant that younger men were now coming increasingly to the fore. Once again Edward’s first thoughts turned to Aymer de Valence – the late Comyn’s brother-in-law, as well as the king’s own kinsman – who was then in his early thirties.²¹ John of Brittany, who had shown little enthusiasm to take up his new role in Scotland, was temporarily sidelined. In the first week of April, as Edward’s ‘lieutenant and captain’, Valence was dispatched north to confront Bruce.²² Henry Percy, still also relatively young, though by this time a long-standing veteran of the Scottish wars, was given important military responsibilities in the west. By this time, too, a fragile reconciliation had been effected between Edward and his eldest son.

In April 1306 Edward of Caernarfon received confirmation that he had been fully restored to his father’s favour: he was now to become lord of Gascony, emphasising his position as King Edward’s undisputed heir. This was followed by the proclamation that a ceremony would take place at Whitsun, 22 May, at Westminster, where Edward would knight his eldest son. Others deemed worthy of the office of knighthood, including young men from England’s noblest and wealthiest families, were also encouraged to attend.

Edward was entitled to raise a tax to help defray the costs of his son’s elevation to knighthood, as his father had done before him, but this was surely of secondary importance. The sense of drama was heightened by the fact that Whitsun was thought to be the date chosen by King Arthur to host a similar occasion at Caerleon. Even if this allusion was lost on some of those who subsequently gathered at Westminster, they could not fail to be impressed by the scale and gravity of the proceedings.²³ The prince of Wales was dubbed by King Edward, as planned, in the chapel of Westminster Palace, before father and son moved on to the abbey. Here the focus remained on Prince Edward, as he knighted around 300 tirones, or ‘tyros’. Then the entire company was made welcome at the palace, where Edward’s deeper purpose would now become plain.

The palace was the setting for a lavish feast. At the high table, in front of the king, there were served two swans – though Edward had more than food on his mind.²⁴ We must imagine the king rising painfully to his feet, as the minstrels fell silent. Then, placing his hand over the birds, Edward swore a terrible oath of vengeance against Robert Bruce, before restating his desire to return to the Holy Land once Bruce had been defeated. It is unclear whether the prince of Wales had been forewarned of Edward’s intentions, though for once he lived up to his father’s expectations, swiftly repeating the same vows and adding for good measure that he would not rest for two nights in the same place until the latest Scottish insurrection had been quelled. Naturally, all the ‘tyros’ followed suit. This was an extraordinary moment: one that King Edward must surely have hoped would bind together a new generation of warriors in a common cause.

The events at the ‘Feast of the Swans’, as this occasion has become known, appealed strongly to contemporary mores – indeed, it started a trend for swearing vows on birds that swept throughout western Europe. But the ceremony also had more immediate implications. Two days later a message was dispatched to Aymer de Valence, informing him that he should expect the imminent arrival of the prince of Wales in Scotland.²⁵ It was said that King Edward himself would follow shortly afterwards, although he remained a sick man. Could the choice of swans at the Westminster feast be seen, therefore, as a tacit symbol of Edward’s age and waning strength? Did the king intend his oath to be interpreted as his ‘swan song’?²⁶

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By this time Aymer de Valence had already set to work in Scotland, in command of around two thousand men. He quickly enhanced his growing reputation, and his successes continued throughout the summer of 1306. Edward exhorted Valence to take great pains to capture the bishops of Glasgow and St Andrews, and both were taken into custody in early June. Lamberton appears to have gone quietly, whereas Bishop Wishart, characteristically, had shown greater defiance. But on 8 June Wishart too was captured at Cupar in Fife, where he had been holding the castle ‘as a man of war’.²⁷ Edward was delighted at this news, sending word that he was ‘almost as pleased as if it had been the earl of Carrick’.²⁸ Shortly afterwards, Valence would come close to taking the most important quarry of all.

On 18 June Valence reached Perth. In the morning of the following day Bruce appeared outside the town, advancing from the west, in command of a sizeable force. Presumably his men now marched under the banner of the king of Scots. It was said, however, that Bruce and his men wore white shirts over their armour, in order to conceal their identities on the field. This suggests a less confident Robert Bruce than the inspirational (and conspicuous) figure that the English would later encounter at Bannockburn. Nevertheless, Bruce was eager to put the matter to the test. He sent a herald to Valence, inviting the English commander to meet him in battle.

Unwilling to face Bruce on his chosen ground, Valence declined Bruce’s challenge²⁹ and remained ensconced behind Perth’s new fortifications. Bruce was reluctant to assault the town and at around midday he drew off, retracing his steps to the west; he halted at Methven, roughly six miles away. As evening approached, his men dispersed to find provisions and quarters, and thus were taken completely unawares when Valence sallied out of Perth and launched a surprise attack. Bruce attempted to rally his men amidst the chaotic scenes, and Valence’s own horse was killed, but eventually the ‘English’ gained the upper hand. John de Haliburton, a Scot in Edward’s allegiance, halted one of the white-shirted knights by seizing the reins of his horse. Yet it soon became apparent that there were limits to his loyalty to Edward I: when Haliburton recognised the king of Scots, he decided to let him go.³⁰

After this narrow escape, Bruce was able to extricate at least part of his army, although a good number of his supporters were captured or killed. Valence’s men continued to pursue him in the coming days, first through Strathearn and then across the mountains into Strathtay. Bruce was finally brought to bay on the shores of Loch Tay, although he was again able to evade capture. Some of the pursuers, including Giles de Argentin, lost horses here.³¹ This might suggest a fierce skirmish in which Bruce’s men acquitted themselves well. By this time, however, the Bruce cause had suffered serious reverses in other parts of Scotland, enhancing the significance of the English victory at Methven. Edward of Caernarfon had taken Lochmaben, for example, and now began to reassert control in the south-west. His progress was temporarily halted by a breakdown in the supply chain, though by the end of July he had joined Valence at Perth.

Edward himself had set out from Westminster on 10 June, ostensibly on his way to join the war in person, but his progress north was slow and difficult. It took him ten days to reach Dunstable, which is barely thirty miles away. And Edward, it should be remembered, was not travelling amidst the hills and forests of Wales or Scotland, but rather on the well-trodden roads at the heart of his realm. On 28 May, shortly before the king left London, a new ordinance concerning the Royal Forest was issued; it included an unusually elaborate preamble, and it has been suggested that this may provide a reflection of Edward’s condition, as well as his state of mind:

While we behold the imperfection of human weakness, and weigh with attentive consideration the widespread burdens that lie upon our shoulders, we are indeed inwardly tormented […] tossed about by the waves of diverse thoughts, and are frequently troubled, passing sleepless nights, dwelling in our inmost soul about what ought to be done.

Edward, it was said, was hopeful that God ‘in the clemency of his goodness, will mercifully look upon and supply our deficiency’.³²

Of course, there is a certain irony in these earnest references to ‘mercy’ and ‘clemency’, as the king was now fixated on vengeance against Bruce and his supporters. John Barbour tells us that Aymer de Valence was instructed to ‘burn, kill and raise the dragon’.³³ (The unfurling of the dragon banner signified that no quarter would be given.) Other sources confirm that Edward encouraged his commanders to take a harsh approach in Scotland: he praised Valence, for example, for wasting Sir Simon Fraser’s lands.³⁴ On 28 June Edward issued an order, apparently confirming an earlier command, that ‘rebels’ should be summarily executed (with the exception of Bruce, Fraser and Atholl, who should be held until the king’s wishes were known).³⁵ Up to now, despite some instances of brutality, and threats to do even worse, the main purpose of Edward’s Scottish wars had been to extract submission from the Scots, and a recognition of his ‘rights’. The current campaign was explicitly envisaged as a war of punishment and terror.

Edward’s attitude seems very clear, yet Valence was not a man to indulge in indiscriminate slaughter. He may also have been wary of interpreting Edward’s commands too literally, as he had previously been given leave to take the ‘middling’ sort into ‘the King’s peace’.³⁶ Kinsmen and well-wishers were able to intercede on behalf of several of the noble captives who remained in custody north of the border. However, when Valence dispatched a number of his prisoners to England, Edward confirmed that he was no longer inclined to keep Scottish knights in English jails. On 4 August sixteen prominent Bruce supporters, including Alexander Scrymgeour, the hereditary standard-bearer of the king of Scots, were executed at Newcastle as traitors.

The men who died at Newcastle were spared most of the agonies of Wallace’s execution, although the former Guardian’s fate was no longer exceptional. Indeed, it is quite possible that the ‘war of the earl of Carrick’ touched Edward more deeply, at a personal level, than William Wallace had ever done. It has been argued that Edward’s pursuit of Bruce and those closest to him – especially those who had been personally involved in his inauguration as king – can be seen as a feud, with all the dark connotations that word can imply.³⁷

Edward stopped short of executing the high-ranking churchmen who had been captured, notably Bishops Lamberton and Wishart, but they were loaded down with chains and sent to prisons in southern England. Lamberton remained in captivity until the end of Edward’s reign, and Wishart was not released until 1315, after the battle of Bannockburn. Edward also approached Pope Clement, seeking their deposition from office, and one might well wonder what their fate would have been if Edward had been successful in this endeavour.

By the beginning of August Edward had reached Northumberland, close to the Scottish border, but the long journey north had been a punishing ordeal. At Hexham Abbey, for example, one of the monks was paid a pound for administering medicines to the king, and other records suggest he needed constant care.³⁸ At the end of the month there is a strong possibility that the king was thought to be close to death, because he took steps to make landed provision for his younger children. As summer gave way to autumn he appears to have recovered some of his vitality – one of his followers observed that he was ‘hearty and strong enough, considering his age’ – yet it quickly became apparent that extensive travel was still beyond him.³⁹ In late September Edward and his entourage halted at Lanercost Priory, where he was to remain for almost six months.

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There must surely have been times when Edward was unable to cope with affairs of state, but he was determined to maintain his grip on the reins of power. It is generally assumed that he continued to assert his will, and that commands issued in his name truly reflected the wishes of the king himself. It is striking, certainly, that great pains were taken – on the whole – to ensure that he was kept adequately informed of events in Scotland. Records have been preserved which provide evidence of the expenses of messengers who travelled to and fro between Scotland and Northumberland.⁴⁰ Moreover, as the year 1306 progressed, Edward continued to receive encouraging news, and Bruce’s position became increasingly precarious.

In early August Bruce suffered another defeat, this time at the hands of his own countrymen. At Dalry, at the head of Loch Tay, he encountered the forces of John Macdougall of Lorn, and it would appear that Bruce was fortunate to escape alive. The victorious commander, also known as John Bacach (the lame), was a close kinsman of the Comyns, and he would become one of Bruce’s most tenacious enemies in the years to come.

Elsewhere in Scotland, Bruce’s strongholds continued to fall. Sir Christopher Seton, Bruce’s brother-in-law, was taken at Loch Doon. Seton, it might be noted, was an Englishman, but he was one of Bruce’s closest friends; he was also thought to have been heavily involved in the murder of Comyn. Thus he was dispatched to Dumfries, the site of Comyn’s death, where he met his own death on Edward’s orders. Sir Simon Fraser was also taken in August, following a skirmish in the Forest. As a former knight of Edward’s household who had broken his oath to Edward on more than one occasion, he could not have expected any further mercy. Edward commanded that Fraser should be taken in chains to London, where his death provided a gruesome spectacle to rival that of Wallace.

In the meantime Bruce had divided his dwindling forces, sending the earl of Atholl to Kildrummy, to the west of Aberdeen. Bruce’s wife, together with a number of other noblewomen, had been sent here for safety, and Atholl was charged with the task of escorting them to safety abroad. Valence had already established control of the eastern seaports, however, and soon Kildrummy was besieged by a strong force under the prince of Wales. Led by Bruce’s brother Neil, the castle’s garrison offered fierce resistance, but eventually, in early September, Kildrummy fell to the prince’s forces. Neil Bruce was captured. The earl of Atholl, together with the ladies, had managed to slip away, moving north towards the coast. Presumably he hoped to find a ship that would convey the women to safety in the Isles, or perhaps even to Norway. But their pursuers caught up with them at Tain, where all the members of the party were taken prisoner.

The fate of the men was predictable. Neil Bruce was tried by the prince of Wales in early October, after which he was drawn through the streets of Berwick and hanged. The prince had taken a leading role in the most recent campaign – showing a readiness to ‘burn and kill’ that would continue into his own reign as king – but his father remained the driving force behind the savage policy of retribution. Edward I received pleas from various people, including Queen Margaret, in her traditional role as intercessor, to spare Atholl’s life. It was pointed out to Edward that Atholl was his kinsman, as the Scottish earl was descended from an illegitimate daughter of King John, but Edward was determined that Atholl must also die. Though the king remained in the north, this execution also took place in London. There was a grim reference to Atholl’s rank, as he was hanged on a higher gallows than the other prisoners who died with him. Atholl’s head joined a growing collection in the city, but the rest of his body, together with the gallows, was burned to ashes.⁴¹

The female captives included Bruce’s wife Elizabeth and his sister Mary, his young daughter Marjory, and the countess of Buchan. The lives of the women were spared, but cruel and unusual punishments were devised for Mary Bruce and the countess of Buchan. Edward ordered that the two women should be confined in cages, at Roxburgh and Berwick Castles respectively. The countess of Buchan’s cage was fashioned in the form of a crown, as a direct reference to her role in Bruce’s inauguration as king of Scots. The cages were equipped with enclosed privies, but otherwise there was a deliberate intention of shameful display, so that all who cared to do so might watch the two women ‘for spectacle’.⁴²

According to Flores Historiarum, Edward ordained that the countess of Buchan should be kept in her cage for the rest of her life – and even after death.⁴³ In fact, she remained there until 1310, when she was transferred to custody in a convent, although her ultimate fate is unknown. Edward had originally ordered that Bruce’s daughter should also be caged, at the Tower of London, but eventually he relented (perhaps because she was still only twelve years old), and she was moved to a Yorkshire nunnery. Curiously, Bruce’s queen was treated with greater respect. As we have seen, there is a tradition that she had opposed her husband’s decision to claim the Scottish throne, but it is probably more significant that Edward did not wish to antagonise her father, the earl of Ulster. Even so, Elizabeth was attended by women who were instructed to keep a sober countenance, and she, her step-daughter and Mary Bruce would all face years of captivity.

Robert Bruce himself remained elusive – and his exploits at this time have grown in the telling – but in September he was pinned down at Dunaverty Castle, at the tip of Kintyre. Yet when Edward’s commanders fought their way into the castle, they discovered that Bruce had escaped again, vanishing into the Western Isles. During the winter of 1306/7 Bruce disappears from history, passing temporarily into legend. By this time, however, although the hunt for him continued, he was no longer seen as a serious threat. He was mocked in English rhymes, and also at the English court, as ‘King Hobbe’ (the crowned fool).⁴⁴ In spite of Edward’s age and infirmity, it still appeared that Robert Bruce was no match for the Hammer of the Scots. His extraordinary comeback from this position, when his fortunes appeared to be at their lowest point, has been described as ‘one of the great heroic enterprises of history’.⁴⁵

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After the fall of Kildrummy and Dunaverty, a certain amount of complacency appears to have set in amongst the English in Scotland. A number of the younger knights, including Giles de Argentin and Piers Gaveston, deserted the army, leaving to take part in a tournament overseas. Edward was furious, ordering their immediate arrest as soon as they had returned, but on this occasion he was moved to clemency and forgiveness through the intervention of the queen. What troubled Edward most about this episode, perhaps, was that most of the men involved were close associates of the prince of Wales. The prince himself had not joined his companions in their recent adventures, as he was temporarily engaged on his father’s business in southern England. But when he returned to the north, in February 1307, there was a furious row between King Edward and his son.

By this time King Edward was surely aware of the disturbing intimacy between Piers Gaveston and his son. When the prince informed him that he wished to grant lands in Gascony to Gaveston, there was an explosion of anger: ‘You bastard son of a bitch! Now you want to give lands away – you who never gained any? As the Lord lives, were it not for the fear of breaking up the kingdom, you should never enjoy your inheritance!’⁴⁶

The source of this story is Walter of Guisborough, and his account goes on to tell us that Edward – seemingly somewhat recovered from his recent infirmities – seized his son, beat him and tore out chunks of his hair. Orders were subsequently given that Gaveston should be exiled to the continent. The prince of Wales accompanied his friend to the south coast; his action ensured that Edward I would never see his eldest son again.

Edward’s anger and impatience were also directed towards others, as by this time Robert Bruce had returned to the Scottish mainland. Seaborne efforts to find Bruce had led to nothing but frustration. Moreover, leaving aside the later tales of inspirational spiders and romantic liaisons, the king of Scots had gathered new resources. On his father’s side he could be seen as an Anglo-Norman baron, but through his mother’s family he possessed considerable links with the Gaelic world. Bruce found shelter somewhere in the Hebrides, or perhaps in Ireland, and the network he created in this period would provide him with the strength and confidence to make a new attempt to establish himself on the Scottish throne.

Bruce charged two of his younger brothers, Thomas and Alexander, to seek support in Galloway, but after landing they were quickly intercepted and defeated by a force of Galwegians loyal to Edward. The Galwegian commander, Dungal MacDowell, was later knighted as a reward for his efforts. Thomas and Alexander were both captured. The prisoners were dispatched south, initially to the prince of Wales, who was then still in northern England, along with the heads of several of Bruce’s Gaelic allies. Alexander Bruce was a cleric in holy orders (he was, in fact, the Dean of Glasgow), yet on 17 February both brothers were executed in Carlisle.

Meanwhile, Robert Bruce had landed in Carrick, where Henry Percy had been installed as earl in his absence, but he met with a cool reception from the local population. It was during this campaign, however, that Bruce truly established his reputation for stealth and ruthless cunning. The king of Scots and his men created such havoc that Percy considered it prudent to abandon Turnberry Castle and leave the area. Bruce rendered his former home indefensible, as he now fully recognised that castles were more useful to the English than to the Scots.

At this time Edward was still at Lanercost, and evidently becoming increasingly frustrated. He sent a series of letters to his commanders in Scotland, expressing his ‘great and not unnatural wonder’ that he had not yet heard news of their success.⁴⁷ On 6 February Walter Langton was instructed to send a message to Valence, to inform him that Edward had received reports from elsewhere of his failures, and that he was aware that Valence was deliberately attempting to keep him in the dark. Given that Bruce had not even landed on the Scottish mainland at this point, it is difficult to believe that Edward had genuinely heard any such news. Though the king evidently trusted and respected Valence, on this occasion he appears to have resorted to a rather mean-spirited device to encourage his lieutenant to increased efforts.

Under pressure from Edward to deliver results, it is easy to imagine Valence’s own sense of frustration in the coming months. He was based at Ayr at the time of Bruce’s landing, less than twenty miles from Turnberry, yet Bruce was able to slip away before Valence could respond. As winter turned to spring, Bruce maintained himself in the hills and forests to the south-east, establishing a base in the valley of Glentrool. In April Valence led a mounted foray into Glentrool, but when he encountered Bruce’s forces he was forced to withdraw. In the following month Bruce appears to have gathered new recruits, and emerged from the wilds of Galloway. Valence suffered another reverse at Loudoun Hill, where Bruce had set up an ambush or road-block. Bruce’s main target here was almost certainly Walter Langton, who was then engaged in a fact-finding mission in Scotland, together with the gold coin the treasurer had brought north.

Edward was furious that Valence had ‘retreated before King Hobbe without doing any exploit’, although these words would suggest that Valence was able to retire in good order from Loudoun Hill without sustaining heavy losses.⁴⁸ Whilst Bruce’s recent successes must have been good for his morale, the strength of his position should not be exaggerated. Elsewhere in Scotland, however, there is circumstantial evidence to suggest that his cause was gathering momentum. On 15 May one of Edward’s Scottish officials sent a letter south from Forfar:

I hear that Bruce never had the goodwill of his own followers or of the people in general as much as now. It appears that God is with him, for he has destroyed King Edward’s power both among the English and the Scots […] May it please God to prolong King Edward’s life, for men say openly that when he is gone the victory will go to Bruce.⁴⁹

Bruce’s new-found popularity owed much to the work of itinerant ‘false preachers’, who presented resistance to Edward as a Christian duty. In spite of the shocking events at Dumfries Kirk, and in defiance of the Pope, the bishop of Moray asserted that Bruce was engaged in a kind of crusade: a theme that was later taken up with enthusiasm by John Barbour. The king of Scots still had a long road ahead of him, but we are starting to see glimmers here of how Bruce’s personal struggle would eventually become synonymous with a much larger cause.

Pro-Bruce propaganda also made reference to prophecy, which maintained a tremendous hold on the minds of medieval men. It had been foretold, apparently, that ‘after the death of the covetous king [le Roy Coveytous]’, the Scots would join together with the Welsh and live thereafter in peace. Of course Edward, whose death was imminently expected, might be characterised as the ‘covetous king’; it is unsurprising that Scots were now able to relate their own experience to that of the Welsh. This prophecy, it might be added, was attributed to Merlin. English writers had attempted to appropriate the Arthurian legends for their own purposes, and Edward’s association (and perhaps self-identification) with the fabled king might be seen as an important development in this process. Yet in the ‘Celtic fringes’ of Britain there was tenacious resistance to the idea that King Arthur should be regarded as an Englishman: tenacious resistance that continues to this day.

*  *  *  *

In March 1307 Edward finally left Lanercost, and based himself at Carlisle. Orders were sent out shortly afterwards for the organisation of yet another Scottish campaign; Edward had resolved to take matters back into his own hands. On 15 May it was reported that the king had witnessed a parade of four hundred men, all decked out with leaves to celebrate Whitsun: a sight which made him ‘much pleased and merry’.⁵⁰ The writer added that Edward planned to go to Dumfries, though ‘not until after Midsummer’. However, by the time of Edward’s sixty-eighth birthday, on 17 June, by which time further troops had begun to assemble in the city, the king was nowhere to be seen. Understandably, there were fresh rumours that Edward was on the point of death – if he had not died already – and there was a serious possibility that his forces would disintegrate before the campaign had even begun.

Upon hearing these tidings, Edward stirred himself to another great effort. There was no more time to waste, and the army was ordered to prepare to march. Edward gave his litter as an offering at Carlisle Cathedral; from this point onwards he would ride at the head of his men, as he had done throughout his reign. It was a magnificent gesture. At moments like this one gains a sense of the awesome responsibility of medieval kingship: of the intensity of a life that was never chosen, and was lived out almost always amidst a sea of watchful eyes. Yet if the spirit was still willing, the flesh was weak. Walter of Guisborough believed that Edward was suffering from dysentery.⁵¹ The king left Carlisle on 26 June, but ten days later he had covered barely six miles.⁵²

Edward was now a dying man, and numerous stories about this time have found their way into later sources.⁵³ According to the Brut chronicle, Edward called his most faithful lieutenants to his side. Aymer de Valence was present, as were the earl of Lincoln and Robert Clifford. Edward charged his loyal followers to guide and support his eldest son, and also to obey his final commands. One of Edward’s instructions, as recounted by the later chronicler Jean Froissart, was quite astonishing. The king wished that, after his death, his bones should be boiled and taken with the army each time the English went to war in Scotland. Edward ‘believed most firmly’, it was said, ‘that as long as his bones should be carried against the Scots, those Scots would never be victorious’.

On 6 July Edward was at Burgh by Sands on the Solway Firth. This is a desolate place, which must have offered him little comfort. From here it was a short march to the Solway fords and the crossing into Scotland, yet Edward’s travels had finally come to an end. His body ravaged by age and illness, his mind exhausted, the king of England was barely clinging to life. On the following day, when his attendants sought to rouse him and help him to eat, he gave up the struggle at last.