Epilogue

The outcomes of military affairs are not determined solely by individuals, but even so, with the benefit of hindsight, it is clear that the death of Edward I was a turning point in the Scottish Wars of Independence. The reactions of English contemporary writers would suggest they had witnessed the passing of a great man:

Of England he was lord.

and a king who knew much of war,

In no book can we read

of a king who sustained better his land.

All the things which he would do,

wisely he brought them to an end.

Now his body lies in the earth;

and the world is going to ruin.¹

Some of the tributes paid to Edward were relatively conventional, although his death was also recognised as an event of international significance; it was said that the Pope, upon hearing the news, collapsed to the floor with shock and grief.²

Edward was laid to rest in an austere black marble tomb, now adorned only by its famous inscription. The first part of this, describing Edward as ‘the Hammer of the Scots’, is well known, but the second part, Pactum Serva (‘Keep the vow’), has not entered the public consciousness to the same extent. The second part has led historian Marc Morris to suggest that ‘the letters as they appear today were evidently painted in the sixteenth century, but the sentiments they express are almost certainly earlier’.³ Thus the inscription might be seen as a reminder to his son, and others, of the oath the younger man had sworn to subdue the Scots. Yet was it ultimately Edward’s final rebuke?

Edward I’s successor, Edward of Caernarfon, now King Edward II of England, did have some personal qualities. However, he lacked his father’s grim determination to achieve victory in Scotland, and he swiftly became distracted by other concerns. Robert Bruce is said to have commented that ‘he feared the bones of the dead king more than he feared the live one, and that it was a greater feat of war to wrest six inches of territory from Edward I than to gain a whole kingdom from his son’.⁴ Many rulers would have struggled to cope with Edward I’s legacy of debt, war and building resentment against the crown’s demands, but Edward II’s problems were exacerbated by his poor management of the nobility. His reign would be defined by internal conflict, which ultimately led to his deposition and death. His continued infatuation with the recalled Piers Gaveston – whose arrogance inflamed the new king’s noble opponents – did nothing to help his cause.

In 1307 Edward II ignored his dying father’s wishes. Edward I’s last campaign was hastily abandoned after a desultory incursion into southern Scotland, and the new king of England travelled south to be crowned. He would not return to Scotland until 1310, and in the next three years the English war effort lost any sense of momentum. Edward’s supporters in Scotland received little tangible assistance, even though they clamoured for aid. English garrisons remained secure in the great castles of the Scottish lowlands, but Bruce was able to break out from the south-west. In other areas of the country the patriot cause made great strides. By the end of 1308 Bruce had comprehensively defeated the Comyn faction in Scotland; the Comyn earl of Buchan fled south to England, dying shortly afterwards. In 1309 Bruce held his first parliament at St Andrews.

In 1314, as is well known, the Scots inflicted a shattering defeat on the English at the battle of Bannockburn. Edward II was lucky to escape capture, but in the exchange of prisoners that followed Bruce’s queen was returned to Scotland (as was Robert Wishart). In the succeeding years Bruce took the war to England (and Ireland), ravaging the northern counties. At one point Bruce’s Scottish enemies had pursued him with dogs, but now Bruce was the hunter and his quarry was the king of England himself. In 1322 Edward II was almost captured in Yorkshire. After Edward II’s deposition, the English agreed a peace treaty with Bruce, acknowledging his right to the Scottish throne. Edward I and his courtiers had mocked Robert Bruce as ‘King Hobbe’, while also planning that he should suffer an excruciating death on the gallows. Yet Bruce eventually died in his bed, safely back in the fold of the Church and secure in his position as king of Scots.

This, of course, was not the end of the matter. Edward III of England reopened the conflict, ironically supporting Edward Balliol in a bid for the Scottish crown, and it was perhaps fortunate for Scotland that he later became distracted by a new war with France. Nevertheless, the renewal of the ‘Auld Alliance’ helped to ensure that Anglo-Scottish relations remained fraught with tension for the rest of the Middle Ages. There were long periods of truce, in which there were opportunities for more constructive interactions,⁵ but the two kingdoms remained officially at war for almost two hundred years.⁶ In the Anglo-Scottish marches raiding, or reiving, became a way of life. Berwick-upon-Tweed, once a flourishing port and a centre of commerce, became a military base that passed back and forth between the two sides. Edward I had made grand plans for the re-founding of Berwick in the wake of the sack of 1296, but the town has never recovered its former status.

Various national stereotypes were already in existence by the end of the thirteenth century – for instance the notion that the English had tails – but as the years passed the boundaries between English and Scottish identities hardened. In the Luttrell Psalter, produced during the reign of Edward III for an English veteran of the Scottish wars, the Scots are depicted as painted savages slaughtering defenceless English people; these images make an interesting complement to the evidence of English chronicles.⁷ But the Scots responded in kind; Blind Harry’s Wallace is perhaps the most obvious retort, although the same sentiments can be found elsewhere. Opposition to, and defiance of, the English became an important component of Scottish culture, even during periods when bloodshed was largely avoided.

It is often suggested that the Wars of Independence helped to create a stronger sense of Scottish identity. Perhaps, however, in some cases the conflict obliged people to find new ways to articulate feelings that were already deeply held. For several years the Scottish the two sides. Edward I had made grand plans for the re-founding of patriots continued to justify their resistance on the basis of their allegiance to John Balliol – even if he were a distinctly uninspiring figure in person – but what are we to make of Oliphant’s claim that he held Stirling ‘of the Lion’? And then there are the following words, adapted from the work of Sallust during the reign of Robert Bruce, which have taken on a life of their own: ‘It is in truth not for glory, nor riches, nor honours, that we are fighting, but for freedom – for that alone, which no honest man gives up but with life itself.’⁸

The so-called Declaration of Arbroath had a specific purpose – it was essentially another attempt to curry favour with the Pope – but historical documents can always be interpreted in many different ways.

*  *  *  *

England would remain the dominant kingdom in the British Isles, but Edward’s failure to subjugate Scotland heralded the waning of English influence. Wales would remain under English rule – despite the heroic efforts of Owain Glyndwr – but there was a resurgence of native power in Ireland. Edward’s ‘British project’ would not be pursued seriously again, in any meaningful sense, until the era of the Tudors. Why, though, was Edward I not able to achieve a lasting military victory over the Scots? A final assessment of Edward’s Scottish wars must take into account various factors – naturally including the efforts of the Scots – but of course we must also give serious consideration to the role of the king himself.

By 1296, when Edward’s Scottish wars began, the dashing young man who had led the charge at Lewes was already long gone. Even so, albeit perhaps with some adjustments, Edward was able to cope with the rigours of campaign life until he was well into his sixties. He did indeed ‘know much of war’, yet in truth he has a mixed record as a military leader. Michael Prestwich has observed that Edward does not emerge from his Scottish wars as a particularly imaginative or inspired commander, but also that the English appear to have performed more effectively when the king campaigned in person.⁹ Both points are well made.

In some respects, warfare brought Edward’s attributes to the fore. His courage at the siege of Stirling in 1304, where he scorned the missiles from the walls, helped to sustain the impression that God had preserved him for great things. At the River Cree in 1300, when others might have hesitated, his decisive action prevented the possibility of a serious reverse. Moreover, whilst he did endure a difficult relationship with some of his nobles, there were many others – such as Valence, Lincoln and Surrey – in whom he inspired consistent loyalty (if not always entirely effective service). And one quality that Edward certainly possessed – perhaps to a greater extent than any other man who wore the English crown – was force of will: a determination to assert and defend what he saw as his rights against any and all comers. The story that Edward wished his bones to be boiled down and left unburied so that he could lead his armies posthumously against Scotland may be apocryphal, but there is surely at least a trace of the real man in this.

At Falkirk in 1298 it is surprisingly difficult to account for Edward’s personal role. It is intriguing that none of the chroniclers chose to exalt his martial exploits, although his determination and leadership in the days before the battle were surely significant. As far as military tactics are concerned, more generally, there is little evidence of the speed and flair of his youth. It was the Scots’ decision to turn the conflict into a war of attrition, but Edward appears to have embraced this; after all, he might have concluded, he had already defeated the Welsh in similar circumstances. Throughout the whole of Edward’s Scottish wars there was a constant refrain: one more push, one more concentration of massive force, and Edward’s power would eventually prevail. These methods did bring results in Scotland – most notably the submission of John Comyn in 1304 – but the costs were enormous.

By medieval standards the logistical effort involved in Edward’s Scottish wars was phenomenal – Edward clearly had an eye for talent in this area – but the supply chain was always precarious. Even if the people of England, Wales and Ireland could be persuaded (or compelled) to provide sufficient supplies, this did not guarantee that they would arrive when and where they were needed. In part this was due to the vagaries of the Scottish landscape, and the weather, which the Scots could also turn to their advantage in the field; whereas for the Welsh of Gwynedd their mountains ultimately became a prison, and Prince Llywelyn was killed when he tried to break out to the south, the Scots were much harder to pin down. Moreover, Edward experienced a range of financial difficulties in his later years as king; the problems involved in maintaining a regular supply of coin ensured that his vast infantry forces were dangerously prone to desertion. Scotland posed a much larger challenge than Wales had done – in every sense.

There were some notable English successes, and Edward must be given a share of the credit for these, but he must also take responsibility for some of the failures. Above all, even though he does seem to have respected certain individual Scots (such as John Comyn the Younger), he was too slow to appreciate the powerful feelings that his actions had unleashed north of the border, and because of this he consistently underestimated the strength of Scottish resistance. Whilst we have seen that Edward could be more subtle and flexible than is often supposed, and that he could be open to compromise (at least temporarily), he did not always work hard enough to understand other men. The complacency and arrogance he displayed in 1296, having seemingly won a crushing victory, would prove disastrous for his cause in Scotland.

By 1305 it appeared that Edward had learned some important lessons; not every Scotsman shared Wallace’s and Wishart’s uncompromising principles, and it must have appeared that there was a real opportunity, at last, for an enduring settlement. However the English response to Bruce’s insurrection – at which time Edward’s powers were clearly waning – was badly miscalculated. True, Edward’s commanders did come close to taking Bruce – who might conceivably have become a mere footnote in British history. But the savage treatment of Scottish prisoners – both male and female – was entirely counter-productive. As more Scotsmen died, we are told, more joined the new king – ‘notwithstanding the terrible vengeance inflicted on the Scots who adhered to the party of the aforesaid Robert’.¹⁰

In March 1307, by which point he had resolved to take matters fully back into his own hands, Edward did express concern about the direction of Scottish affairs. He was particularly perturbed, apparently, that ‘some people’ – meaning the prince of Wales? – had interpreted his recent orders in a fashion that was ‘too harsh and rigorous’.¹¹ Edward now ordained that all those who had been ‘compelled’ to join Bruce should be pardoned. By this time, however, doubtless many Scotsmen had concluded that Edward’s actions spoke much louder than his words.

Modern historians should attempt to avoid anachronistic judgements of medieval personalities, yet it will come as no surprise to learn that medieval Scottish writers offered sterner assessments of Edward than their English peers. Walter Bower took comfort from his belief that Edward would be punished after his death for his sins in life. On the night of Edward’s passing, according to Bower, an English knight saw a vision in which the king was accosted by demons. As they carried Edward’s spirit away, lashing him with whips and flails, the demons laughed and mocked him:

Behold King Edward, raging like a leopard!

At one time, while he was alive, he evilly struck down the Lord’s people.

You will go, dear friend, as our companion on such a journey to the place where you are condemned to associate with devils.

At the last moment, it is said, the old king repented of his folly: ‘Alas, why have I sinned? […] at great cost I have brought torments upon myself.’¹²

On this earth, of course, the ambitions of great men invariably have larger consequences for others. Edward’s decision to pursue war in Scotland ultimately caused suffering for thousands, on both sides of the border. Whilst it is not easy to recapture the experiences of ‘ordinary’ people, the story of Edward’s Scottish wars must be their story too.

The real Edward might well have responded to his critics that he could not have acted otherwise; even if he had fully appreciated the scale of the challenge facing him in Scotland, he would surely have contended that his honour was in jeopardy – thereby making withdrawal impossible. And yet, even though this was a king who set such store by the defence of his ‘rights’, would Edward really have taken much pride in his famous soubriquet? The ‘Hammer of the Scots’ would almost certainly have preferred to be known today as the Hammer of the French, or (even better) the Hammer of the Muslims. Edward saw the crusade as the highest calling available to secular men, and his ambition to ‘recover’ the Holy Land should be taken seriously. We might imagine that Edward saw the intransigence of the Scots, alongside the machinations of Philip the Fair, as the greatest barrier preventing him from fulfilling this goal.

Edward was never the most sanguine of men, but frustration at the thwarting of his wider ambitions surely accounts, at least in part, for his terrifying anger when Robert Bruce rebelled. The ageing king was raging against the dying of the light, against the death of his dreams. In that respect, it could be argued that Edward’s famous epitaph – Scottorum Malleus: the Hammer of the Scots – is not really a tribute to the man encased in that sombre tomb. Paradoxically, it might also be seen as a tribute to his Scottish enemies – men such as Bruce, Comyn, Murray and Wallace – who opposed Edward with such great vigour, and at such great cost.