Robert the Bruce: Scotland's True Braveheart

By Phil Carradice

Robert the Bruce is a detailed account of the life and times of the Scottish hero and monarch. It covers his life from childhood to death, looking at the political, social and military life of Scotland before, during and after the time of Robert the Bruce. The book looks at the relationship between The Bruce and people like Edward I and Edward II of England, William Wallace and the other contenders for the Scottish crown. The main thrust of the book is a chronological account of how The Bruce clawed his way to power, his struggles and battles and his eventual victory which gave Scotland independence and freedom from an acquisitive and warlike neighbour. It looks in detail at the murder of John Comyn, of which The Bruce stood accused, and the political ramifications of the killing. Robert the Bruce was no saint. He was a ruthless, cunning warrior, a man of his times, dedicated to what he saw as his mission in life. Flawed he may have been but he was also a great King, a worthy warrior and a man who deserves to emerge from the shadow of William Wallace - a position to which he has been relegated ever since the film Braveheart.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Open Road Integrated Media
• Release date: Oct 20, 2022
• ISBN: 9781399002615

Phil Carradice

Phil Carradice is a well-known poet, story teller, and historian with over 60 books to his credit. He is a regular broadcaster on BBC Radio and TV, presents the BBC Wales History program The Past Master and is widely regarded as one of the finest creative writing tutors in Wales.

Book preview

Introduction

Treason, truce and treachery – three all-encompassing words that can be used, more or less accurately, to describe the life and times of Robert the Bruce.

In the years leading up to the Battle of Bannockburn, fought in the warm summer of 1314, the Scottish king was regularly subjected to the rigours and tribulations of all three. It was not entirely one-way traffic, however, and in no small degree the Bruce gave back to his enemies as good as he got. Eventually, of course, he gave back more, a lot, lot more.

The final years of the thirteenth century, particularly in the period following the death of King Alexander III, were a time of worry and war in Scotland. It was a period when Edward I, as bloody and pragmatic a monarch ever to sit on the throne of England, sought to extend his control over the whole of Britain. If he could not achieve this by debate or discussion, Edward was clear that he would turn to mortal combat in order to solve the problem and obtain the desired result.

It was a confused and confusing time, when men changed their allegiances seemingly on a whim; when, at the drop of a hat, kings were set up on puppet thrones and deposed just as swiftly; when murder and mayhem mixed together in wars that were as much about personal ambition as they were about the safety of nations. It was the time of Robert the Bruce and his brother Edward, of King Edward ‘Longshanks’ and his son Edward II.

Ostensibly, Edward I’s rampant desire to extend his territories was part of his urge to reduce the danger of hostile elements on England’s borders. That, at least, was the public message, the face of his manoeuvrings and policies. There is an element of truth in the idea. There is no doubt that a united Britain would provide the English monarchy with security and strength where and when they really needed them – against enemies on the continent of Europe.

The English monarchy in the fourteenth century was rooted in French culture and traditions with French still being the common language of court. The Plantagenet dynasty came from France and early members of that ruling house had governed over an enormous empire which stretched from the Scottish hills in the north to the Swiss Alps in the south.

The huge empire had only recently been lost – large portions of it, at least – thanks mainly to the inadequacies and foolishness of King John. However, the thought of reclaiming it was never far from the mind of John or his successors, Edward I in particular.

Security at home was an essential element in the political manoeuvrings of this able but single-minded monarch and this, of course, meant that independent countries like Wales and Scotland, both of which had the propensity, if not the military hardware, to wage war in the English rear, were bound to have limited shelf life. Both countries were too close to the English homeland to survive, intact, for long.

Llywelyn the Last, Prince of Gwynedd and Wales, was the first target for Edward Longshanks but he burned too quickly, like a moth caught in the candle flame, to be considered a major ‘player’ in the wars that the English foisted on Britain in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. Within a few brief but bloody years, Llywelyn moved from target to victim.

That left just three dominant figures from the period – Edward I and Edward II, kings of England, and Robert the Bruce, who went on to become King of the Scots. Of course, they were individual rulers and leaders in their own right, but when all is said and done, the three men have to be spoken of together.

There can be no apologies for looking, in particular, at Robert the Bruce and English King Edward I, if not as a unit, then at least as one item in an almost perpetual period of conflict. Of course, Edward II was a ‘player’ in the drama but his achievements fade into insignificance when compared to the other two. Like their respective countries, Robert the Bruce and Edward I were inextricably linked and any appraisal of one cannot be accurately made without some assessment of the other.

The shadow of Edward I, Edward Longshanks as he was known to almost everyone, loomed over the life and career of Robert the Bruce as surely as the morning mist that hung over the Scottish lochs each autumn. The Bruce had other enemies, fought other battles, but Edward I of England was the one man who could always be counted on to oppose and hinder him in whatever he chose to do.

Edward II, the son of Longshanks and the other main enemy of Robert the Bruce, tried to do the same but was never strong or capable enough to trouble the Bruce for long. In much the same way, Robert the Bruce’s brother Edward was a hugely important support player but never one quite strong or disciplined enough to make a success of things on his own.

Robert the Bruce was a constant thorn in the side of both King Edwards. More politically aware than William Wallace, more militarily dangerous than Llywelyn of Gwynedd, Robert the Bruce was a clear and present danger to the English monarchy. As long as Robert the Bruce was waging his war, neither of the two Edwards could afford to relax.

Edward I knew that he needed to eliminate this troublesome Scottish nobleman and it is not stretching the point to suggest that both he and his constant enemy knew that the campaigns north of the border were a fight to the finish. As in any gladiatorial combat there could only ever be one winner. The Bruce knew that and so did Edward Longshanks.

King Edward I died before the outcome could be finally settled. His son, Edward II, was not the man his father ever was but it is one of those intriguing ‘what ifs’ of history to consider what would have happened had Longshanks been in command of the English army at Bannockburn in 1314 rather than his inadequate son.

Death, disaster, courage and cowardice were ever-present during this period but Edward Longshanks and Robert the Bruce were the two individuals who stand out as men of huge intent, men of great skill, soaring imagination and supreme intelligence. They dominated the period as surely as Joan of Arc, Henry V or the Black Prince did in the latter stages of the Hundred Years’ War.

If the two leaders were the most important figures in the wars between Scotland and England then that raises one inevitable question – which out of the two of them was the most significant? It might not be a rhetorical question but the answer to the conundrum, no matter which side of the divide you sit on, remains relatively simple. The Bruce stands head and shoulders above his English enemy, metaphorically at least: literally, it would have been hard to defeat a man of Edward’s height and bulk. Metaphors apart, without Robert the Bruce, Scotland would have been soon ground into the dust beneath Edward’s feet.

Patriots and freedom fighters like William Wallace and Andrew Moray were effective enemies of Edward but they could not play ‘the long game’. And in that role Robert the Bruce was supreme, surpassing even King Edward himself.

Looking back now, in hindsight, it is abundantly clear that Edward’s policies in Scotland did not destroy Scottish resistance. In fact, thanks to skilful management and propaganda by Robert the Bruce, they had the opposite effect. They hardened Scottish resolve. The fact that the country survived as an independent nation for many hundreds of years, long after Bruce and Longshanks were dead and consigned to memory, pays tribute to the skill and dedication of this unusual and bravehearted warrior king.

I make no excuse for the somewhat skewed nature of the argument presented here. Robert the Bruce, always a hero of mine, was an amazing man who, thankfully for the Scots, was alive and active at a time when other men, other nations were casting envious eyes on his homeland. He was a very special character. Attempting to prove that is what this book is all about.

Phil Carradice

St Athan, May 2021

Chapter 1

Death of a Dynasty, the Coming of Chaos

The night was dark. It was also bone-achingly cold and, even for the north-east coast of Scotland at the end of winter, the icy edge to the air was unexpectedly vicious. There were no stars, the moon had disappeared behind the clouds as squalls of hail, rain and snow drove in from the north with an intensity that left even the most experienced of the king’s retinue gasping for breath. The wind and the freezing night air cut through men’s clothing like arrows and it was clear to everyone that the only hope of respite from the elements was to remain indoors, huddled round the fire.

That morning King Alexander III, ruler of all Scotland, had overseen a meeting of his council and had settled down to enjoy the afternoon and evening at Edinburgh Castle. He celebrated in his usual flamboyant style with copious amounts of food, ale and wine. The gathering was a happy one and the king was in an open, joyous mood. When, suddenly, Alexander announced his intention of leaving the comfort of Edinburgh, crossing the Firth of Forth and making for his hunting lodge at Kinghorn to spend the night with Yolande, his new wife, it was a statement that was greeted with total disbelief by his retainers. In the wake of an initial stunned silence, it was not long before a chorus of disapproval met his decision. The weather was too wild, everyone declared, and the route too dangerous.

The king was hardly the man to be affected by contrary opinions. His word was law. Had he not proved that in the thirty-six years of his reign? Regardless of what anyone said, he would leave Edinburgh Castle and cross the Firth by the ferry from Dalmeny to Inverkeithing before riding on to Yolande’s accommodation at the royal lodge in Kinghorn. He would surprise her and be with her to celebrate her birthday the following day. The king was determined. As always, he seemed to enjoy flying in the face of advice from his courtiers and friends. Tonight, his attitude was no different. Within minutes of making the announcement, he had set off, huddled over his pommel and riding with a small party of nobles and esquires into the teeth of the gale.

It was 19 March 1286 and the king, 44 years old and with the expectation of many years of good living ahead of him, was passionately in love with his new bride. There were those who thought it was mere infatuation. After all, Alexander was renowned for his licentious ways and ‘robust’ behaviour and so for the king to be enamoured of a young and beautiful woman was not unusual:

For he used never to forebear on account of season or storm, nor for perils of flood or rocky cliffs, but would visit, not too creditability, matrons and nuns, virgins and widows, by day or by night as the fancy seized him, sometimes in disguise, often accompanied by a single follower.¹

Alexander’s first marriage to Margaret, daughter of Henry III of England, had been both happy and successful. The tragedy of her death in 1275 did not cause undue concern in the minds either of the Scottish church leaders or of the country’s noblemen. The important thing was not the king’s marriage or his happiness but the succession. And Margaret had died after doing her duty, presenting Alexander with three children – Margaret, Alexander and David. The all-important matter of the succession, it seemed, was assured.

Very quickly, however, things changed. They had gone badly wrong. Within three years of the queen’s death, all the royal children had also died and Alexander was left without either wife or heirs. He had married Margaret when he was still a child, only 10 years old; she was his senior by just a year, the daughter of a man who could either be Scotland’s greatest friend or worst enemy. The way Alexander intended to play out the game was, as most men of good sense would have done, by exploiting the former position. It was a political marriage which, in theory at least, assured Scotland of the military support and friendship of her nearest neighbour. It was not a loveless marriage, however; far from it, but familiarity and the mores of the time had given Alexander leave to enjoy his position as absolute ruler. And enjoy it he certainly did. His reputation as a rake was unmatched, long before Margaret died, and afterwards it simply grew.

Now, however, there was more at stake than the king’s libido. With the three children of his first marriage following their mother in quick succession to the grave, the need to produce a successor was paramount. For that, of course, he had to marry again.

Alexander found the new wife he was looking for in the person of Yolande, daughter of Robert IV, the Comte de Dreux. Once again, it was an advantageous match, the comte having direct links to the throne of France and to the powerful Orleans dynasty. An alliance with the strongest country in Europe was a matter of no small importance for the Scots, a nation always vulnerable to the whims and avarice of England. As far as Alexander was concerned there was rather more to the match than a mere political exercise, important as that might be. Yolande was young, virile and beautiful. As everyone admitted, he had an eye for beautiful women. His behaviour during and after his first marriage to Margaret had proved that. Yolande was half Alexander’s age but the Scottish king was captivated and the marriage took place at Jedburgh Abbey on 14 October 1285. Very soon, Yolande announced that she was pregnant and all in the upper reaches of Scottish society breathed a sigh of relief. Once more it seemed that the succession was safe.

When, on that wild March night just six months after his marriage, Alexander made his fateful decision to cross the Forth to Inverkeithing, he had every reason to feel satisfied with himself. He had succeeded to the Scottish throne in the summer of 1249 when he was just 7 years old. At that time Scotland was still a turbulent and wild place. His father, Alexander II, had spent most of his reign consolidating his position and securing independence from England and Norway. In that it was a situation not dissimilar from most of his predecessors.

For nearly 200 years Scotland had been ruled by the House (or Line) of Canmore. The Canmores had taken control of Scotland soon after the Norman Conquest of 1066 had delivered this seemingly untameable but independent region into the remit of the Norman barons. Scotland was never Norman territory but it was there, on the fringe of their power base of England, by turns desirable, intimidating and terrifying.

Over the years one Canmore king after the other succeeded to the Scottish throne, many of them believing that they had inherited something of a poisoned chalice. It is relatively easy to see why this was. The country was riven by factions where feudal nobles, thanks in large part to the inhospitable and rugged nature of the region, ruled their fiefdoms almost independently of the monarch. The Canmore kings fought and manoeuvred to control and, where possible, destroy these factions – at the same time attempting to deflect the twin threats of England and, in particular, of Norway which had traditionally always cast envious eyes on the untamed lands in the north of Britain.

Each of the Scottish kings stood at the head of a feudal system of government, men of rank and position owing their allegiance – fealty as it was known – to a superior lord. Each petty lord would offer protection and in return expected military service and a whole range of other dues from the men beneath him. The chain went all the way up to the king who, theoretically, owned and ruled all the land and all the people in his domain.

Other than Malcolm III, Alexander II had done more than most of the Canmore monarchs to establish his authority. The Treaty of York, signed in 1237, was his finest achievement, defining and mapping out the extent of Scottish territory and drawing its border with England. It was a geopolitical division that was almost identical to the border line of today.

He was in the process of marching on the Western Isles – the Hebrides – for a final confrontation with the Norwegians who had traditionally owned this part of Scotland, when he was stricken with fever and died. That left his young son, Alexander III, 7 years old, as lord and master of the country.

The young king was fortunate in that there was a clear system of central control in place, a system that would, theoretically, run the country until he came of age. After that the lords in control would operate as advisers. Four vitally important officials effectively controlled the government in the king’s name – the constable, the marischal, the chamberlain and the steward. On these four positions rested the military might and the administrative running of the country. Below them in rank and significance was a wide array of officials such as justiciars and sheriffs, all of whom were drawn from the aristocracy of Scotland.²

The Church was probably the single most powerful institution in the country, clerics and bishops occupying most of the main administrative roles. It was as much a political organization as it was religious, and leading members of the Church were nothing if not adamant that Scotland would remain independent and free from interference by its powerful neighbours.

The Normans, fierce and warlike as they might have been, had never managed to penetrate Scotland in any depth and had eventually given up on the idea. The Norman Conquest remained very much a conquest of England and the presence of this wild and warlike region on the northern borders inevitably caused the Anglo-Norman monarchs more than a few sleepless nights.

And what of the ordinary people, the Scots, who inhabited this land of forests and mountains, moors and lakes? To start with, there were precious few of them, certainly not when compared to the number of peasants and serfs in England. When Alexander III came to the throne, the entire population of Scotland consisted of, at most, half a million souls, probably less. They were a curious mixture, these Scots, their backgrounds and antecedence as diverse in style and appearance as the country they inhabited. Celts, Picts and Anglo-Saxons, Norsemen, Frenchmen and Flemings were mixed together, intermarried and all trying to scratch a living off the land as subsistence farmers, by trading with Scandinavia and Europe and by various nefarious activities. They spoke a version of English that was similar to that spoken in Northumbria, a dialect that would soon come to be called Scots.

In the ports of the eastern coast, places like Aberdeen and Leith, there were also enclaves of foreign merchants, in particular Hanseatic and Flemish entrepreneurs who had made the move from their homelands purely for financial benefit. While not Scots exactly, they had settled in the country and were an important element in the makeup of the nation. It was an altogether cosmopolitan grouping that any and all monarchs would find difficult to control and unite.

The variable climate and the lack of good communication networks added to the problems. In winter the few roadways that did exist became virtually impassable, invariably dissolving into long empty tracks of mud and bog. Those winter and autumn roadways might occasionally be useable by a man on horseback but in general for three or four months of every year they were totally impassable for wagons, packhorses, carriages and mules.

The thinly populated land north of the Clyde and the Forth was particularly wild. The inhabitants of the region lived by cattle herding, fishing, hunting – and banditry In the lowland south people still lived off the land where there were burghs, towns granted special rights and privileges by royal decree, many of them dating back to the reign of King David, the first of the Canmores. These burghs operated as centres for commerce and trade.

This, then, is what Alexander inherited when he came to the throne in 1249. Despite the existence of what appeared at first glance to be an effective system of government, the years of his minority were far from placid. It was a time marked by banditry, border raids and blood feuds, by squabbles and violent quarrels between the supposed leaders of the country – quarrels that, more often than not, quickly descended into open warfare.

In particular the period consisted of a seemingly perpetual struggle for power between two rival parties or families. Led, respectively, by Walter Comyn, Earl of Menteith, and by Alan Durward, Justiciar of Scotia, the young king sat between them, helpless as a pawn.

At one stage Walter Comyn and his pro-English supporters even managed to abduct the king. It was a fairly comfortable period of confinement for him but, even so, during his captivity Alexander fretted, fumed and endured what he clearly understood to be an abuse of his royal personage.

Helpless he might have been but Alexander was also intelligent and experienced in the ways of ambitious men. He watched and waited, knowing that his time would come. Perhaps more than anything Alexander laid plans for the future. He instinctively knew that any solution to Scotland’s turbulent past – along with its equally distressing present and its probable warlike future – was