by H A CULLEY
There were a couple of banners of local barons in addition to the red banner with its crown and two crossed keys of the archbishop but there seemed very few knights or professional soldiers. They could see the archbishop, dressed in armour and riding a white destrier with a red caparison but, incongruously, wearing his mitre rather than a helmet, riding up and down and shouting instructions. These seemed to be adding to the confusion, rather than helping matters.
The two men withdrew for a hasty discussion. Ten minutes later Douglas led his twelve hundred men to the north of the village of Myton where they would be out of sight from the English host and there they swam their horses over the river. This took rather longer than Douglas had hoped as his men had to take their armour off and place it in a leather bags tied to their backs before being carried across hanging onto the saddle horn. Only one man, a borderer, was swept away because he hadn’t hung on tightly enough.
When everyone was dressed again, Douglas led them on a circuitous route to come out a mile behind the English host. As soon as Randolph saw Douglas was ready, he led his men out of the trees and charged in a line four deep at those Englishmen who had managed to cross. By now there were just over a thousand of them but they were not formed up, nor had they deployed a defensive screen to protect them. Most were armed with farm implements, supplemented by a few rusty swords, axes and the odd spear. They never stood a chance.
The main body stood and watched from the other bank in horror as their compatriots were massacred. The archbishop had assured them that God would protect them and, up until that moment, they had been full of fiery zeal. This now turned to panic as they realised that more Scots, and a lot of them, were charging their rear and that they were trapped inside the bend in the river.
Some fought like men possessed and several Scots were killed. James Douglas himself was unhorsed by a man who darted under the horse’s belly and slit it open with a dagger. James leapt clear as his horse collapsed and chopped his sword into his attacker’s shoulder. Then he thrust the point into his neck and the brave man was dead. However, most of them were only intent on getting away. Many jumped into the river and drowned, others managed to fight their way clear and high-tailed it back towards York and many others tried to surrender.
It didn’t do them any good, the blood of the highlanders and borderers was up and they were only intent on one thing, and that was killing. They carried on until they were too exhausted to lift their weapons any more.
Five thousand were slaughtered at Myton, including over a thousand clergy and monks. The archbishop, William of Melton, had only been in post for two years. It was almost a very short reign but he managed to fight his way clear using his mace. He lost his mitre and banner though, and these were taken back and presented to King Robert as trophies. Due to the large number of clerics who died, the battle was called the Chapter of Myton.
~#~
Edgar drifted in and out of consciousness. He was vaguely aware of travelling in a cart when he was taken the short distance from Eyemouth, where he was taken ashore, to Ayton. Once there Catriona insisted on taking care of him herself. He had been wounded in several places, mainly flesh wounds but the most serious one had nicked a lung. Bloody froth bubbled out of his mouth and the wound itself was weeping pus. The ship’s surgeon’s remedy was to apply leaches to bleed the evil humours out of him but this only made him weaker so Catriona got rid of him and went in search of a woman who the villagers used. She had no training as a healer but she did know her herbs and was a great believer in common sense.
Her advice was to frequently wash the wound with vinegar and apply fresh, clean dressings three times a day. As to the bloody froth, her only advice was to wait and pray that it stopped of its own accord.
Edgar was scarcely aware of his surrounding, though he did seem to dream of Catriona a great deal. When he did wake up for short periods he was vaguely aware of what was being said but he soon drifted back into unconsciousness. On one of these occasions he came to during an argument between Catriona and her father.
‘I’m sorry my dear, I recommended the match but the Earl of Dunbar is my lord and wants a knight to hold the manor after me, not a sailor.’
‘Then we’ll run away together and marry.’
‘You can still get wed, of course, and you don’t need to do anything stupid like running away to do that; you will lose the manor when I’m gone, that’s all’
Edgar tried to tell them that the manor wasn’t important, it was Catriona he wanted but he couldn’t seem to speak and he drifted back into unconsciousness.
The next time he heard Simon’s voice but he couldn’t make out what he was saying: something about the king wanting to see him as soon as he was well enough.
After about ten days he grew delirious and his temperature soared. Catriona sent for the wise woman in a panic.
‘He’s got a fever, this is the crisis point. Either it will break tonight and he will start to recover, or he’ll deteriorate and die. Has there been any more bloody froth on his lips recently?’
A distraught Catriona shook her head.
‘That’s a good sign. What about the pus coming out of the wound?’
‘Very little now, it seems to be healing up at long last. So why has he got a fever at this stage?’
‘I don’t know but it’s often this way. Perhaps the body is trying to get rid of something. If the fever abates, the body has been successful. If not, it weakens and dies.’
Edgar felt vaguely as if he was on fire, he was conscious for brief moments that Catriona was bathing his whole body with cold water, as if she was trying to put the fire out, but then he sunk into blessed oblivion.
~#~
Simon was relieved that Edward had abandoned the siege of Berwick and rushed south to confront the Scots who had massacred the people of York at Myton. He was aware that Queen Isabella had taken fright when she heard of it and had fled to Nottingham with Prince Edward, but he was still worried about her safety and that of his son and heir. They had been unfortunate enough to run into a party of Scots foraging for food as she and her son left York but they escaped. Regrettably, the queen left behind part of her baggage train in her haste, including all her silver plate and jewels. As she had an escort of twenty knights and thirty serjeants, they could have easily have dealt with twenty hobelars but such was the Scots’ fearsome reputation, her escort didn’t even think of putting up a fight.
Simon’s fleet returned to Berwick where he left it in the charge of the senior captain and collected his wife and son before heading for Lamberton. As soon as he got there he bade Bridget farewell and rode on to Ayton to see how Edgar was faring. He was still unconscious but Simon thought that he was breathing more easily. He was touched by how devoted Catriona was to him and he prayed for his recovery.
When he got back to Lamberton he went looking for his new bailiff. As soon as he saw him his first thought was how young he looked. He must have been mad to have agreed to take him on. Everyone would eat him alive.
‘How are you getting on with Geoffrey,’ he asked the reeve after some inconsequential small talk.
The man smiled ruefully. ‘To be honest, Sir Simon, I thought that you had taken leave of your senses when you appointed a boy as bailiff but he’s no pushover. He knows what’s what and he won’t let anyone try and take advantage of him. He may look weak and puny but his mind is razor sharp and he’s a determined little bugger.’
Simon thought that the choice of word was singularly unfortunate, given the boy’s past but he didn’t say anything. What had happened to Geoffrey was in no way his fault but if word got out about it, he would be ruined. It wasn’t right but it was the way of the world.
When he went through the books with Geoffrey later, though he didn’t understand figures, he was impressed by the grasp that he seemed to have of the accounts and the meticulous manner in which he was keeping the ledgers. He was even more impressed when he learned that, in the month that he had been in charge,
Geoffrey had increased the income that the manor was generating, compared to previous years.
When he next visited Edgar he was relieved to see that he was awake, if still very weak, and that he recognised him as soon as he walked into the solar. Catriona’s father had given up his own bed to Edgar and he slept in the one normally used by his daughter. Catriona had scarcely stirred from Edgar’s bedside and, when she had slept, it was in a chair beside him.
‘Well, it’s alright for some, living the life of luxury!’ Simon greeted him.
‘He’s still very poorly,’ Catriona reprimanded him indignantly.
‘I know. It’s good to see him awake at long last though’
‘The fever broke last night and, hopefully, it’s just a question of time now before he will be back on his feet.’
‘Any idea how long that will be?’
‘Why, are you trying to get him to go back and risk his life at sea again?’ she asked suspiciously.
‘No, as you know, the king wants to see him; though I imagine he will want him back in command of his ships as soon as he is fit again.’
Catriona burst into tears. ‘I won’t let him. He nearly died last time.’
‘Catriona, we live in uncertain times. If Edgar stays here and, by some miracle the Earl of Dunbar lets you inherit the manor if you wed, he will owe military service to the earl. He’s just as likely to have to fight for his life on the battlefield as he is at sea, perhaps more so.’ This time it was her father that spoke.
‘What’s the problem with the Earl of Dunbar?’ Simon hadn’t heard about the hitch with their betrothal.
‘His lordship wants a knight to hold Ayton after me, not a sailor, so he can render his forty days military service each year.’
‘Oh, that’s not likely to be a problem. That’s why King Robert wants to see him - to knight him’
It took three months of recuperation and hard training before Edgar regained his fitness and put on all the muscle he had lost whilst he was in bed. By this time Bridget had told Simon the glad tidings that he was to become a father again in the summer. He was busy keeping the fleet ready in case they were needed again, getting involved in manor business and playing the family man. However, there was no way that he was going to let Edgar travel to Dumbarton, where the king now was, without him.
The two set off with Rollo leading their packhorse in late February, reaching Dumbarton at the end of the month. There they found that they had missed Robert Bruce by three days; he was now en route to St. Andrews on the opposite coast. Simon was worried that travelling all day would be too much for Edgar but his brother seemed as fit now as he ever was.
Catriona had wanted to come and see him receive the accolade but, as she wasn’t yet Edgar’s wife, she was made to see that this would be inappropriate. Both men were now glad of this as the journey would have been much longer if they had had to take a carriage with them. Riding side-saddle all that way wasn’t an option either. Eventually they reached St. Andrews without incident at the end of the first week in March.
‘Edgar! I’m pleased to see you looking so well. I was told you were at death’s door.’
‘He nearly died, Sire, but he was saved by the love of a good woman,’ Simon replied with a grin. He then briefly explained about Edgar’s betrothal and Catriona’s care for his brother. He didn’t bother to mention the Earl of Dunbar’s reservations.
‘Well, I and all of Scotland are deeply indebted to you both for saving Berwick and practically destroying King Edward’s fleet. You’ll need to stand your vigil tomorrow night so I can knight you before we depart again, this time for Arbroath. I understand that the Marischal is going to act as your sponsor, at the request of his brother as Sir William is still at Berwick. You had better go and find him and sort out the details.’
As they left the king, Simon turned to Edgar and muttered ‘I’d quite forgotten about a squire, have you given any thought to it.’
‘No, it had quite slipped my mind. Can I share Rollo for now?’
‘I should ask him, rather than tell him but I’m sure he won’t mind looking after both of us for a while.’
When they eventually found Sir Richard Keith they got a shock.
‘I gather that you were responsible for raiding Lindisfarne Priory and abducting their sub-prior, who was later killed by the good people of Berwick. I’ve no doubt he deserved it but his abbot is less than amused. He has persuaded the Bishop of Durham to excommunicate you, Edgar, and there is a rumour that the abbot has also put a price on your head as an outlaw.’
Chapter Nine – The Declaration of Arbroath
March to April 1320
King Robert didn’t seem to think that being an excommunicate was much of a bar to knighthood, after all he was excommunicated too. At first Simon and Edgar had wondered whether James Douglas could bring pressure to bear the next time that he raided Durham but then they learned of the truce that the two kings had agreed two months previously. There would be no more raiding of northern England but nor would there be any attempt to retake Berwick or interference with trade between Scotland and the Continent.
Simon did wonder what his fleet of war ships would do now but Richard Keith soon put his mind at rest about that. Scotland might have signed a truce with England but Flanders hadn’t. Having weakened Edward’s fleet, Robert was determined to keep it that way. He wanted Simon and Edgar to masquerade as Flemish privateers and attack English merchantmen trading with France.
After mass the following day, Edgar appeared in his white tunic and surcoat and received the accolade from Robert. Richard Keith then belted on his sword and Rollo knelt to tie on his golden spurs. The setting for the ceremony in the nave of St. Andrew’s cathedral was magnificent. Simon looked up at the vaulted stone ceiling and the numerous columns that supported it and wondered at the skill of the masons who had built it.
Unlike when Simon was knighted, Edgar wasn’t the only young man being honoured. Three other squires were also knighted but, unlike Edgar, they were all twenty one and looked a little askance at Edgar, who had only just turned nineteen. The celebration feast over, everyone was scuttling around packing up for the move to Abroath. At first neither Edgar nor Simon appreciated how momentous the parliament that was due to meet there on the sixth of April would prove to be in Scottish history. They had heard that the Abbot of Arbroath, who was also Chancellor of Scotland, had drawn up a document that was due to be signed there but didn’t know what it contained until Richard Keith, the Marischal, explained it to them.
‘It is a declaration of Scottish independence from England that is to be sent to the Pope to convince him of the invalidity of Edward’s claim to be our overlord. All the nobility of Scotland has been summoned to sign it and the four bishops will send a similar letter with it, as will the king setting out his claim to be the rightful King of Scots answerable to no one except God and the Scottish people.’
The meeting was held in the nave of the abbey church at Arbroath. After the declaration had been read out, including the statement that ‘for as long as but a hundred of us remain alive, never will we on any conditions be brought under English rule. 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.’
When the reading was over the Earls of Fife, Moray, March, Strathearn, Lennox, Ross, Orkney and Sutherland, the officers of state, such as the High Steward and the Marischal, and thirty eight barons and clan chiefs stepped forward to affix their seals to the declaration. Four bishops then set their seal to a separate letter endorsing the declaration and begging the Pope to lift the interdict he had imposed on Scotland and also to lift the excommunication of Robert Bruce. The king added a further letter of his own, explaining his position and begging forgiveness for any sins he might have committed.
The three documents were then sent to the Pope in Avignon in the hands of a delegation led by Sir Adam Gordon.
‘I suppose
we just wait and see now,’ Simon said to Edgar as they walked out of the church in the wake of their elders and betters.
‘Yes but it won’t help with my own sentence of excommunication,’ Edgar replied gloomily. Do you think that there is any truth to the rumour that he has paid an assassin to kill me?’
‘Huh, I very much doubt it, he’s a churchman after all. But it wouldn’t do any harm to be on your guard.’
The two walked back towards their lodgings in the town in silence until Simon suddenly asked if Edgar had given any more thought to engaging a squire.
‘No, not really but the boy would have to be a good sailor.’
‘I suppose you might ask Sir Richard if he knows of a suitable lad?’
‘Yes, I suppose that might be best. I’d better go and find him. Now that the parliament is over everyone will be preparing to leave. Do you know where the king is going next?’
‘Stirling I believe.’
‘Well, we might as well go with his cavalcade as far as there as its on our way home.’
‘I suppose you will want to call at Dunbar on the way back?’
‘To see the earl about Catriona you mean, now that I’m a knight?’ Simon nodded. ‘Yes, she’ll soon be thirteen so the sooner I sort that out the better too.’