26 Cal. Docs Scot., iv, 477. Valence’s later career, see J.R.S. Philips: Aymer de Valence, earl of Pembroke 1307–24, 1972. Barbour, op. cit., 90, describes him as ‘wise, brave and a noble knight in his deeds’.
27 Cal. Docs Scot., ibid.
28 Cal. Docs Scot., ii, 1432.
29 Cal Close Rolls, 24 March 1305, Westminster.
30 Barrow: Robert Bruce, 184–85.
31 Eleventh Book.
32 Conclusion, below.
33 He was still engaged on the Scottish side in September 1303: Stevenson Docs Illustr. Hist. Scot., ii, 453. He was Edward’s man at the latest by March of the next year. Cal. Docs Scot., ii, 1474. His reward for the capture of Wallace, generally given as £100 of land, is found in Stevenson: Wall Docs, 101–02, 147.
34 He was keeper of the castle of Dumbarton.
35 The failure of other chroniclers to use this story is perhaps indicative.
36 Bruce’s adventures are described by Barrow: Robert Bruce, chap. 10.
37 We are left to guess why he was considered especially likely to accomplish the task. With him, as with others in the story of Wallace’s capture, it is not easy to understand how Wallace came to trust him or, indeed, others after years of pursuit.
38 Eleventh book.
10
The Time of Glory, 1305
‘Lasting bliss’
Wallace reached London on Sunday, 22 August, and was led through streets filled with jeering, abusive citizens to the property of one William de Leyre, an alderman and former sheriff, in the parish of Fenchurch, where he spent the night. Early the next morning he was brought on horseback to Westminster Hall through streets thronged once more. He formed part of a procession, directed by Segrave and his brother Geoffrey, which included those named by Edward to sit in judgement on him, as well as sheriffs and aldermen of the city. Inside the hall, at the south end, a scaffold had been erected, and there Wallace was made to stand. On his head his captors had placed a crown of laurel, to mock him, it was said, for his boast that one day he would wear a crown in this place.1 It is unlikely that Wallace would ever make such a remark. Neither before Stirling nor Falkirk did he act the braggart, although he was not above the use of a title when he felt it justified.2 The placing of a crown on his head was part of a deliberate policy of humiliation. The practice was not unique. In the following year, his old ally and companion, Simon Fraser, in London to suffer the same fate as Wallace, was crowned with a garland of periwinkle.3
The commission which Edward had empowered to deal with Wallace was a formidable one.4 The principal legal figure was Peter Mallore or Mallory, justiciar of England, whose name is frequently found in the records of the period. He was especially active in 1306 in the aftermath of Bruce’s seizure of the crown of Scotland. Mallore condemned, among others, Christopher Seton, who had seconded Bruce in the murder of Comyn and had himself cut down Comyn’s uncle; Alexander Scrymgeour, standard-bearer of Scotland and an associate of Wallace when the latter was Guardian, and John Strathbogie, earl of Atholl, the first of his station to be executed for treason since Waltheof was beheaded by order of William I in 1086. With Mallore sat another judge, Ralph de Sandwych, a man of vast experience under Edward and his predecessor. He would later sentence Simon Fraser to death. As constable of the Tower of London he had been responsible for the custody of some notable figures of the war with Scotland, among them the earls of Menteith, Ross, and Atholl, after the battle of Dunbar. The mayor of London, John le Blunt, represented the city, while a fourth member of the commission was John de Bacwell, who would meet a melancholy end, suffocated to death at the coronation of Edward II in February 1308. Finally, there was Segrave. Of those who faced Wallace on that day in Westminster Hall only Segrave, a soldier, would, we may guess, be assured of his respect. Segrave had long served Edward. He was one of those who volunteered to go with Edward on crusade, despite his opposition to the royal cause in the war with Simon de Montfort. A veteran of the Welsh wars, Segrave subsequently had a distinguished career against the Scots. He brought a large contingent of troops to the Falkirk campaign and was present at the sieges of Caerlaverock and Stirling. Edward entrusted him with a number of posts in Scotland. When Edward returned to England in February 1302, Segrave remained behind, acting with Bruce and others in Scottish affairs. He was constable of Berwick castle in 1302 and captain of Northumberland in January of the following year. Segrave was not always successful in Scotland. He was wounded and captured by Simon Fraser at Roslin in February 1303 but later rescued. It had been an inglorious episode, but Segrave gained some revenge in defeating both Fraser and Wallace in a clash at Happrew, near Peebles. By 1304 Segrave was responsible for the whole of southern Scotland. His primary concern became, on Edward’s instructions, the capture of Wallace. As we shall see, Segrave was not to be free of Wallace even after the execution.
Two factors have served to obscure the nature of the proceedings in Westminster Hall, The first is the undoubted horror of the sentence on Wallace, the second the charge of treason laid against him. To concentrate on these is to misunderstand Edward’s intention. He meant to destroy Wallace in body and in reputation and to that end brought him to trial as an outlaw as well as a traitor. In that context, the sentence was in accordance with the law as it stood not merely in England but in Scotland. Edward was a master in the use and abuse of the law. This characteristic had been noted long before at the time of the rebellion of Simon de Montfort when, as Prince Edward, he had prompted this comment on his behaviour: ‘The treachery or falseness by which he gains his ends he calls prudence; the way he arrives at his object, be it ever so crooked, is reputed to be straight; when wrong serves his ambition it is called right; he calls lawful whatever he wills, and thinks himself above the law.’5 Wallace was now to discover the truth of this. For Edward the form was important if the outcome was itself already decided.
To speak of a trial in modern terms is inaccurate. Wallace was permitted no jury. No witnesses were called. There was no plea. Wallace was given no opportunity to defend himself, although he did succeed in making one interruption. Mallore read the indictment and Segrave the sentence. There was no appeal. Wallace was immediately led to execution. While shocking to us, the whole procedure was in keeping with contemporary practice.6 It is crucial to an understanding of the treatment of Wallace to remember that he had been outlawed at the St Andrews parliament in the previous year and, in all probability, at least once prior to that. Nor should it be overlooked that the outlawing of Wallace had been by due Scottish process in 1304. An outlaw, once proclaimed, had no entitlement even to the formality of a trial. His life was forfeit, and the hand of every man was turned against him. If the law was in a sense admitting its inability to deal with the criminal, it was at the same time, as in the case of Wallace, making his crimes manifest to the public and thus making summary justice possible. If taken, therefore, the outlaw could expect only that the judgement would be carried out against him with or without the formality of a trial. The status of a man did not protect him from this harsh aspect of outlawry. In the reign of Edward II, his cousin Thomas, earl of Lancaster, was outlawed with various of his confederates. When he fell into Edward’s hands, Lancaster was at once convicted and executed.7 In respect of the summary, not to say sham, nature of the proceedings in Westminster Hall, Wallace was treated no worse than any other outlaw.
Edward was, however, careful to emphasise that the decision to outlaw Wallace had followed upon a refusal of clemency. Wallace was shown to be not merely an outlaw but an obdurate one. There is a clear indication of this in the indictment.8 The reference was to events after Falkirk. It would be easy to dismiss this offer as a formality and its appearance in the indictment as evidence of Edward’s hypocrisy. We should not too readily assume this. The offer may mark a stage in Edward’s approach to the problem of Wallace which has not perhaps received adequate attention. He had not always vindictively sought Wallace’s death. His decision not to accept custody of Wallace f
rom Philip of France has already been touched on.9 It was a peculiar episode for which we have no explanation, but it does suggest that at the time Edward saw little threat in Wallace and no need to put him to death then. Edward’s behaviour towards Bruce and other Scottish leaders demonstrates that he sought an accommodation until he felt himself utterly betrayed. Once he had reached that point he became demonic in pursuit of those who had spurned him. This was so in the case of Wallace. It was not until February 1304 that Edward took the ultimate step of refusing to Wallace that clemency which he had just held out to the other Scots. From there it was, in legal process, but a step to St Andrews and thence to Westminister Hall.
The list of crimes with which Wallace the outlaw was charged by Mallore was an impressive one.10 It included killings, arson, destruction of property and sacrilege. These crimes relate mostly to the period between the start of his rebellion against English rule and the close of his invasion of the north of England. Then, indeed, he had burned villages, towns and religious establishments and, Mallore stated, spared neither the young nor the old, nuns nor priests. None of this Wallace could deny. This part of the indictment illustrates how well he had carried out his intention to wage war against the English. The more undisciplined of his followers committed atrocities in England which stain his name, but their savagery was the currency of war at the time. He had too as a matter of policy attacked the representatives of the English Church, which for him threatened the Scottish cause. All of these crimes constituted a standard accusation, one which might with equal truth have been made against Edward himself. Wallace was after all repaying like with like. The accusation was designed to prove that Wallace’s crimes were common knowledge or notorious in the public mind and therefore beyond doubt or defence. Once more, in this, Edward was calling upon precedent. In 1287 he had had the Welshman, Rhys ap Maredudd, declared a notorious criminal. Wallace, a public outlaw, was cited for crimes which were of themselves public knowledge.
The one specific charge against Wallace in this section of the indictment was the murder of Heselrig. The motives behind the murder have been a source of debate but not the deed itself.11 Had it been the sole crime laid against Wallace, it would have been sufficient to bring the death penalty – by hanging – in a Scottish as well as in an English court. The symbolic importance of the murder may however have led Edward to include it at Westminster. With the murder Wallace had emerged as a leader of the resistance; the blow to English prestige must therefore be avenged.
The outlawry and the murder were of themselves overwhelming. The case based on them was irrefutable, and for each there was an accepted penalty. When, however, we turn to the question of treason, Edward’s argument in less secure. It was the charge of treason which brought from Wallace his only recorded contribution to the proceedings. He denied – we may safely assume that he did so with the utmost vehemence – that he was a traitor. He had never sworn allegiance to Edward. That we know to be a fact. Where the likes of Bruce and Comyn, and even Fraser, had given their allegiance, and their service, to the English king, and at various times throughout the war, Wallace had resolutely refused to do so. He might have saved his life by emulating these lords. He remained Balliol’s man. Edward was not deterred by this.
It is difficult for us to comprehend how, if Wallace had never given his allegiance to Edward, the king could accuse him of treason. In a crucial sense, however, the definition of treason was the prerogative of the monarch. Edward had recourse in the case of Wallace to conviction on the king’s record, a development in the law of treason which was of his own devising. It allowed him to bring Wallace before the court, to have the accusation rehearsed, and to secure the verdict he sought. He needed only to present his statement of the crimes with which he charged the prisoner; the judgement he demanded followed without delay or debate. The abuse possible under this system was to lead to public disquiet. It was the treason trials engineered by Edward II which, however, demonstrated the extent of that abuse. Appeals at the start of the reign of Edward III, for example those against the judgements in the cases of Thomas of Lancaster and Andrew de Harcla, prompted discussion. When parliament at length turned to Edward III for a definition of treason, he produced it in 1352; it is that statute which is still the basis for English law on the subject. But Wallace was, in 1305, quite literally dependent upon his enemy for the definition of treason as it applied to him.
What was that definition? Edward was, as always, careful to state it in some detail. He returned first to the surrender to him by Balliol of the kingdom of Scotland in 1296. This act, he argued, made the inhabitants of that country, whether or not they accepted Balliol’s surrender and Edward’s consequent sovereignty, subjects of the English king. To him Scotsmen of all degrees had at that time and afterwards sworn their loyalty. No Scot was in Edward’s view excused from that loyalty by mere fact of not having sworn it. It is a wholly unacceptable argument to our way of thinking; our sympathies cannot but lie with Wallace.
The immediate question of allegiance thus settled to Edward’s own satisfaction, the indictment as it deals with treason encompasses Wallace’s rebellion, his assumption of the title of Guardian of Scotland, his convening of parliaments, and his seduction of the people of Scotland into seeking an alliance with France, at the time England’s enemy. All these acts were hostile to Edward and by that token treasonable. Their inclusion in the indictment, as with the evidence relating to the waging of war, tells us of the impact made by Wallace in his struggle for the independence of Scotland. If he was a soldier, he was no less a statesman. In his anxiety to blacken Wallace’s name, Edward was in the event providing the proof of his captive’s achievements. There is one, and to us unusual, addition to the recital of treasonable acts given by Mallore. Wallace had displayed banners while in the field against the English. This was a charge frequently found in treason trials of this and other periods. It was raised in 1318 with Gilbert de Middleton and against Thomas of Lancaster and certain of his associates after the battle of Boroughbridge in 1322. As late as 1497, in the reign of Henry VII, Lord Audley faced a similar charge. To display one’s banners while in arms was held to be a declaration of war against the monarch who was alone capable of instigating a just and legal war.12 The court chose once more to ignore the fact that Wallace had never been Edward’s man.
It will be seen that Edward had produced as damning an indictment against Wallace for treason as he did for outlawry. The case proven to the satisfaction of the court, Segrave read the sentence, which, as was customary, was implemented without delay. We recoil with horror from the details of the punishment, and rightly so. Edward’s biographer remind us that ‘clemency towards his enemies was not in Edward’s character’.13 Nor, Prestwich further illustrates, was he a man to show respect for a dead enemy. At the end of the battle of Evesham, Edward’s troops almost certainly took their lead from him, when they grossly mutilated the corpse of Simon de Montfort.14 When the head of Llywelyn ap Gruffyd was brought to him, Edward did not give it Christian burial with the rest of the body but had it displayed at the Tower of London. But Edward, although indisputably cruel from his youth, was not always consistent in his treatment of rebels. Among the Welsh leaders, Dafyd and Rhys ap Maredudd, for whose head, in a move similar for the hunt for Wallace, Edward offered a bounty of £100, suffered the ultimate penalty. By contrast, however, Morgan ap Maredudd, whose men at the battle of Maes Moydog were described as ‘the best and bravest Welsh anyone has seen’,15 was spared, and later employed by Edward in his household. A second rebel leader, Madog ap Llywelyn, lived out his life in the Tower of London.
Wallace, however, was not as fortunate as either Morgan or Madog. He was the first, and, until Bruce’s rebellion, the only Scot to be executed by Edward. The king need not have ordered in the first instance the penalty on which he did decide for Wallace. To have hanged him upon capture, at some significant site in Scotland, would have been both humiliating and effective, a clear indication of Edward’s cont
empt for Wallace and a warning to the Scots; Wallace was an outlaw in Scotland, the scene of his triumph at Stirling Bridge, and hanging was the appropriate and recognised punishment. Edward chose instead to have Wallace brought to London for a state trial; not even the Welsh Prince Dafyd ap Gruffyd had appeared in London to meet his end. With Wallace found guilty, Edward still had alternatives in determining the fate of the Scot. Historians are agreed that mercy for Wallace was out of the question. For them, the evidence that Edward was cruel, vindictive, and paranoiac brooks no argument.16 Edward was all of these things, but he was also astute and manipulative; his record in respect of the matter of Scotland teaches us that. If impulsive, he could be calculating. It is not easy to believe that it was, from the outset, Edward’s plan to have Wallace executed with all the severity of the law; that is, to have him ‘barbarously done to death’, as William Camden wrote of the punishment ordered for Anthony Babington and his fellow conspirators in 1586. Edward must surely have weighed the advantages to himself of a public and ostentatious display of mercy once the inevitable verdict of guilty had been handed down. Must we wholly discount the possibility that he rejected the option of mercy out of hand? A Wallace, incarcerated like Madog in the Tower of London, would have been a living symbol of Edward’s magnanimity. The grand gesture was not alien to Edward. He spared the family of Dafyd ap Gruffyd, as he did the wife and sisters of Robert Bruce. We judge his treatment of Bruce’s family as reprehensible but Edward’s contemporaries would not necessarily agree.17
Wallace, reprieved and a prisoner, would have achieved no great posthumous reputation. Edward decided in favour of making an example of him. In this, he erred in our eyes, but we have the benefit of hindsight. The Scottish leaders, some of whom were almost certainly present in London in preparation for the parliament Edward had called for September, were silent, their fear of the king perhaps outweighing their pity for, or loyalty to, Wallace. Silent, too, were Lamberton and Wishart, the two bishops most closely allied with Wallace. Simon Fraser was once more Edward’s man. John de Soules was in France, as stout in the cause of Scotland as when he had refused to submit in 1304. We are driven to the conclusion that, with the exception of Soules, the ruling elite of Scotland had left Wallace to his fate. This may have been the result of personality and policy. Wallace’s relations with the ruling elite had rarely been easy; to them he represented a threat to the established order. In this, they shared a characteristic with Edward, with whom they were, at the time of Wallace’s death, formulating a new policy for the governance of Scotland. It was obvious to the Scots that, having failed since 1296 to defeat Edward, they had to accept what he offered them. If the price was complicity in the execution of their erstwhile colleague, now perhaps an embarrassment, they seem to have accepted it. Edward had judged the Scots well.
William Wallace Page 22