… when the blessed man was living for some days in the province of the Picts, he was obliged to cross the river Nesa (the Ness); and when he reached the bank of the river, he saw some of the inhabitants burying an unfortunate man, who, according to the account of those who were burying him, was a short time before seized, as he was swimming, and bitten most severely by a monster that lived in the water; his wretched body was, though too late, taken out with a hook, by those who came to his assistance in a boat. The blessed man, on hearing this, was so far from being dismayed, that he directed one of his companions to swim over and row across the coble that was moored at the farther bank. And Lugne Mocumin hearing the command of the excellent man, obeyed without the least delay, taking off all his clothes, except his tunic, and leaping into the water. But the monster, which, so far from being satiated, was only roused for more prey, was lying at the bottom of the stream, and when it felt the water disturbed above by the man swimming, suddenly rushed out, and, giving an awful roar, darted after him, with its mouth wide open, as the man swam in the middle of the stream. Then the blessed man observing this, raised his holy hand, while all the rest, brethren as well as strangers, were stupefied with terror, and, invoking the name of God, formed the saving sign of the cross in the air, and commanded the ferocious monster, saying, “Thou shalt go no further, nor touch the man; go back with all speed.” Then at the voice of the saint, the monster was terrified, and fled… And even the barbarous heathens, who were present, were forced by the greatness of this miracle, which they themselves had seen, to magnify the God of the Christians.

Columba hailed from Ireland, a royal descendant of Niall of the Nine Hostages.  After a basic education, he entered a monastic school under the tutorship of St. Finian, who had studied in Galloway with St. Ninian.  Even as a student at Moville, he began performing miracles.  One was turning water into wine for the Mass.  He spent fifteen years in Ireland, setting up religious houses in Derry, Durrow, and Kells.

Writing of St. Columba in the Cathac

In his early 40′s, Columba made his move to Scotland.  Some sources attribute this to King Dermot disliking Columba’s zeal against public vices.  More often, it is linked to a family feud that ended with the death of 3,000 men, and for which Columba felt some responsibility.  Still other stories concern a judgement made against Columba for making a secret copy of St. Finian’s psalter.  And some versions state that the battle was, in fact, the result of the dispute over copying the book.  The Cathac, or Book of the Battle, the book of Psalms copied by Columba in the 6th century, still exists today, after a long and interesting history, and is preserved by the Royal Irish Academy.  

The earliest sources, those closest to Columba’s own time, do not mention the book or battle as Columba’s reason for leaving, but simply ascribe to him the desire to win souls for God, and this reason is accepted by some. 

Whatever the reasons, Columba established himself and his followers on the island of Iona, founded a monastic rule that was followed until St. Benedict, and from Iona, set about converting, or in cases re-converting, Scotland. 

Among his most famous encounters is that with the Pictish chief, Brude, who is thought to have lived where Urqhart Castle now stands, on the north shore of Loch Ness.  Brude, having no desire to meet with Columba, or Saints Comgall or Canice who traveled with him, closed and locked the gates.  Columba lifted his hand and made the sign of the cross, at which point the bolts holding the gates fell away.  The three saints walked into the castle unhindered.  Brude stood in awe of the miracle.  He not only listened to the Saints, but was baptized by them.  His people soon followed, and much of Caledonia was converted.

Columba lived austerely, sleeping on floors and using stones for pillows.  At least one of those stones is today credited with miraculous powers.  Despite his austerity, he was cheerful, joyful, mild-mannered, and charitable in his thoughts and dealings with others.  Yet he also commanded great authority, such that even kings consulted with him before acting.  

Columba lived into his 70′s, spending his time traveling around Scotland, and occasionally back to Ireland.  He primarily spent his last years, however, on Iona.  In the summer of 597–or 592 according to the Annals of the Four Masters, the discrepancy in years possibly being due to the change in calendars–Columba was already regarded as a saint.  He knew his death was approaching, and climbed the hill above the monastery to give it one last blessing.  He returned to his cell to continue transcribing a psalter, and died there in the earliest hours of Sunday, June 9.

The full text of Adaman’s Life of St. Columba can be read online, detailing Columba’s life and many more miracles and prophecies.

Castle Campbell

 There’s Castle Campbell, high in the Ochil Hills between the Burn of Care and the Burn of Sorrow, and once called Castle Gloom. How much more evocative can you get? If you have ten minutes, take a virtual walk through Dollar Glen and up to the castl now!

There is simply no choice but to write a scene–any scene!–in such a setting!  Whether that will be today, I don’t know, because there are so many wonderful sites that might work better for the underlying themes in the scene.

I moved on to abbeys, in particular, those along the “Four Abbeys Cycle Route,” a ride I fully intend to make some day.  There’s Jedburgh, in the haunts of the great James Douglas, Bruce’s close friend and loyal knight.  It’s tempting to set a scene here, as Douglas appears in Book 2 of the Trilogy.  There’s Dryburgh, secluded on ten acres in a loop of the River Tweed, and Kelso,  known as one of the grandest.

But for sheer picturesque beauty and mystique, Melrose stands out.  It is no wonder it has been lauded by several poets, including Walter Scott, in The Lay of the Last Minstrel:

and further in the poem:

Melrose is widely considered the most beautiful of religious houses in all of the United Kingdom, noted particularly for its Gothic architecture and its many detailed carvings of saints, gargoyles, plants, and dragons.  Notable among the sculptures is the bagpipe playing pig. 

Like all ancient churches, it is built in the shape of a cross, facing east and west.  It features 50 windows, more than 50 buttresses, and a number of side chapels, many containing tombs.  On one of its stairways, is carved the motto of the town of Melrose: “Be halde to ye hende.”  Meaning, Keep in mind, the end, your salvation. 

At the request of David I of Scotland, so renowned for his piety that he was sometimes called St. David, the  Cistercian monks founded this beautiful abbey in 1136.  They selected the site, two miles west of a former monastery on the River Tweed, preferring the better farm there, over the site of the former monastery.  Early records, recorded in the Melrose Chronicle, show grants of land to the abbey by Roger de Skelbrooke of Grennan, about 1193; and grants of Maybole and Beath to the Abbey by Duncan, Earl of Carrick.  Other lands came from Raderic mac Gillescop and his wife Christina (daughter of Roger de Skelbrooke), and from Walter Campania in the mid-1200′s.

The town of Melrose grew up around the abbey.  Through the years, the English attacked both town and abbey.  In 1322, 8 years after the Blue Bells Trilogy begins, Edward II destroyed much of the abbey.  Robert the Bruce rebuilt.  Richard II attacked in 1384, while driving Robert II of Scotland and his army back to Edinburgh.  It took more than a hundred years to rebuild, and in fact was still not finished in 1504 when James IV visited. 

Barely completed, it was once again attacked by Sir Ralph Evers during the “Rough Wooing” of 1544, in which Henry VIII demanded, rather forcefully, the infant  Mary, Queen of Scots, as his son’s bride.  The English, this time, vented special rage upon the tombs of the Douglases, some of whom are buried there.  The following year, in 1545, the English were back, under the Earl of Hertford, to wreak more damage. 

Melrose Abbey was never completely repaired after this, and it declined as a working monastery.  Its last abbot died in 1559, and its last monk some 31 years later in 1590.  Not quite content, the English assaulted one last time, under Oliver Cromwell, in the mid-1600′s. 

Although it was disestablished in 1609, it was partially re-roofed and continued, even in its semi-ruined state, to be used as a parish church from 1618 until 1810.  For years, nearby residents used the church as a quarry to build their own homes, further destroying its former grandeur.

Bruce’s Association with Melrose

Through the Arches

The Bruce seems to have had a place in his heart for Melrose.  (A little historical humor, as there is now a place in Melrose for his heart, but I suppose one logically follows from the other.)  On March 11, 1302, the 27-year-old Bruce wrote to ‘the anxious monks of Melrose Abbey’ that, despite being called to his Carrick army in previous years, he was now ‘troubled in conscience’ and thus promised never again to do so, ‘unless the common army of the whole realm is raised for its defense.’  (An echo, perhaps, of his own father granting certain freedoms to the men of Melrose Abbey in 1285?)

Around March of 1309, he made a royal grant of the lands of Eksdale to the abbey. 

In 1316, in the wake of his success against the English at Bannockburn, Bruce maintained especially close ties to Melrose Abbey.  He signed a charter there on June 8 of that year; 20 days later, from Kilwinning, he granted letters patent to Melrose.  On October 6, it was the Abbot of Melrose who was given safe-conduct to England, presumably to deliver Bruce’s own guarantees of safe-conduct for English negotiators to come north.  Those negotiators arrived at Jedburgh on November 21, and on that same day, once again from Melrose, Bruce signed a writ to James Douglas.

In 1322, Edward II pushed all the way to the gates of Edinburgh.  However, frustrated at the Scots’ harassment of his army (imagine that!), he retreated, attacking Scottish abbeys on the way.  The men of Melrose fought back, resulting in the English killing Melrose’s Prior William Peebles and three invalids  (what a glorious victory)  and going on to descrate, loot and seriously damage the abbey. 

 In January 1326, Bruce granted the abbey a hundred pounds per year to serve each monk “The King’s Dish” each day, a supplement to the standard rations.  The money was to come from Berwick, Edinburgh, and Haddington; James Douglas was charged with enforcing the payment, and as soon as August, had to do so, threatening the sheriff of Berwick with a 10 pound fine.  Several months later, Bruce gave 2,000 sterling, the equivalent of $50,000 today, to Melrose for repairs.  Those repairs are credited with making the abbey so particularly beautiful, as Gothic architecture was at that time at its height. 

In his last written requests as he lay dying at Cardross, on May 13, 1329, Bruce asked that his heart be buried at Melrose Abbey.  Does his request have anything to do with the fact that his own father was buried at Holm Coultram, a daughter house of Melrose, in England?  After Bruce’s death, as per another request, Bruce’s heart made a brief trip to Spain to fight the Crusades, embalmed in a silver casket.  On its return, it was buried at Melrose as requested.

The abbey became the burial place of many important figures.  An 1890 guidebookto Melrose Abbey, by J. Wass, lists William Douglas, “The Dark Knight of Liddesdale,”  and hero of Otterburn and Chevy Chase and many of his descendants; Alexander II and his queen Johanna; many of the Karr family; and the heart of Robert the Bruce, on its recovery from the Crusades, to which James Douglas carried it. 

Among the most interesting stories of the dead at Melrose Abbey is that of Michael Scot, “The Scottish Wizard.”  His life straddled the 12th and 13th Centuries,  and some believe he retired in old age to Melrose, and is buried there.  Sacred-destinations.com claims this is authenticated, while other sites call it conjecture and put forth other places as his retirement and burial.  Nonetheless, it is said that in 1812, roughly 600 years after his death, his stone coffin was found in the aisle of Melrose’s south chancel.

Got Ghosts?

Like all good ruins, Melrose is home to a few ethereal presences.  Michael Scott is reputed to be one of them.  Many people report a chill in the air near his grave.  A group of ghostly monks likes to walk the grounds, while another, unnamed figure ‘slides’ through the ruins like a snake, close to the ground. 

Cemetery at Melrose

A fourth story tells of  a vampire.  Answers.com gives a fairly detailed account, calling this an ‘actual vampire,’ and reporting that the case was chronicled by William of Newburgh, author of Historia rerum Anglicarum, in the 1100′s.  It is worth noting that William of Newburgh comes down through history with the reputation of a ‘careful historian,’ and that he reports his case on the authority of ‘reputable’ clerics who experienced the events firsthand.  The story is also recounted in Stories of the Border Marches, by John Lang.

These reputable clerics tell of  a priest of Melrose who neglected his vows for frivolous activity.  Other sources state more forcefully that he was given to all manner of sin and vices, and called Hundeprest, Dog Priest, for his love of hunting on horseback with a pack of hounds at his heels.  On his death, he rose from his grave and made several attempts at entering the cloister.  Failing this, he wandered the countryside, entering the home of a woman to whom he had been chaplain.  Apparently not caring for her dead chaplain’s nighttime visits, she reported him to the abbey. 

Several of the monks sat watch by his grave.  Most of them went to warm themselves by a fire, leaving only one witness to the nightly rising.  This monk struck the dead–or not so dead–with a battle axe and forced him back into the grave.  When the other monks returned, the earth appeared undisturbed.  They dug up the corpse to find it marked with the wounds of a battle axe, in accord with the monk’s story, and the coffin full of blood.  They burned the body and scattered the ashes over the Lammermuir Hills, but the story of the undead priest, and many say his presence, too, remain at Melrose.

The rumors of vampirism and other crimes are often linked back either to Michael Scott or to the delinquent priest, and the sliding presence is said to possibly be a manifestation of the evil spirits left behind by one or the other of them.

Today

Melrose Abbey stands today as a top attraction in the Borders region of Scotland, including the ruins, the old cemetery, and the Commendator’s House Museum, containing a variety of medieval objects.  If you’re interested in learning more about it, there is a fascinating and detailed guidebook from the 1800′s available online.

Hogmanay celebrations these days are large events, often held at castles.  They include music of all sorts, rock bands, pipe bands, drinking, revelry, lots of kissing– it is New Year’s Eve, after all–fire ceremonies, swinging fire balls, fireworks, and singing of Auld Lang Syne.  In smaller towns, Hogmanay may be celebrated with ceilidhs (dances).

One youtube clip shows “1000 Pipers” marching down the Royal Mile outside of Edinburgh Castle: 1000 Pipers  Be prepared: this is a lot of bagpipes!  And I’m saying that like it’s a good thing.  It’s quite a sight to see so many marching in their kilts and sporrans, all playing together.

Scottish History at Suite 101 explains the reasoning behind the “first footing” tradition of it being considered good luck for the first person to cross your door at midnight to be a tall, dark-haired man: in the days of the Viking attacks, you didn’t want to see shorter, blonde men.  They were often raiding, pillaging, and raping.

Interestingly, as I search for details on how Niall might have celebrated at Glenmirril, I find that, with the exception of a few sketchy paragraphs about old traditions, and no details as to just how old those traditions are, there is virtually nothing.  There is plenty about medieval Christmases, but no mention of Hogmanay in the same period.  As Niall lived just after the days of the Viking raids, he may have still been celebrating very much like their Yule, which is also thought to have been a strong influence on Scottish Hogmanay.  He lived long before the Reformation that drove it underground, so chances are high that he did in fact celebrate it.

January 1, in medieval times, was not the new year.  That happened in March, by the Julian calendar by which they still lived.  For them, it commemorated the circumcision of Jesus which, according to Jewish custom, happened on the eighth day.

Only with January 6 did the medieval population conclude the Christmas season.  It is on this 12th day after the birth of Jesus, that the wise men, the magi from the East, are said to have found him.  They gave him gold for kingship, frankincense for the priesthood, and myrrh symbolizing death.  It must have been a heart-breaking gift for Mary, knowing what lay in store for her newborn son.  In remembrance of the gifts they gave, this was the day of gift-giving at that time.

Sources: http://dickens111.tripod.com/id14.html, http://theglaive.livejournal.com/, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Boxing_Day, http://www.reliquary.co.uk/gedeonus/medyear.htm, http://www.historylearningsite.co.uk/medieval_xmas.htm, http://digitalcommons.unl.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1075&context=historyfacpub, Children’s Literature…

One source reports that children were beaten on this day in memory of Herod’s cruelty.  As a rule, the day was considered ill-luck: not a day to marry, or take on a new project.  Edward IV would not be crowned on Childermass Day.  And throughout the following year, on whatever day of the week Childermass fell, no new clothes would be bought, and no new undertakings begun, on that day.

But by far the most interesting part of Childermass day is the issue of the boy bishops.  Throughout Europe, and especially England, the day was celebrated by making a boy both bishop and head of the town for one day.  At first reading, it sounds like a joke of sorts, something for fun and laughs.  But on further reading, it’s an eye-opening look at medieval society and medieval childhood. 

Prior to the advent– no pun intended– of Protestantism, the ‘boy bishops’ were elected on the Feast of St. Nicholas, December 6.  Throughout the Christmas season, they presided over various festivals from then until Candlemas on February 2.  On December 28, from the thirteenth to the sixteenth centuries, the boy bishops preached sermons.  (It is interesting to note that, for a time reputed to be so patriarchal, some places had girls preaching, too.)  The earliest records of  boy bishops date from the 1220′s, in York, Salisbury, and St. Paul Cathedrals, delineating their duties.  There are also surviving records of the miniature copes, staffs, and rings used by these boys.

The boy bishop, elected by his peers, headed an entire group of school or choir boys, all replacing their elders in the performance of various duties within the religious service, for 24 hours, beginning with Vespers on the night of December 27. 

Warren Wood discusses these sermons in his book Children’s Literature of the Early Renaissance.  He gives a fascinating and detailed contextual background in which the sermons were preached, telling of the various feasting and customs surrounding the day of the Holy Innocents, before examining the three surviving sermons from that time. 

That from St. Paul’s Cathedral is ‘direct and homely,’ while the one written by Richard Ramsey of Gloucester Cathedral and delivered by John Stubs, Boy Bishop of 1558, was ‘racy and colloquial with a spicy vernacular flavor.’  Wooden reports, however, that they were “far more than mockeries of adult sermons,” but rather dealt with serious subjects.  The three surviving sermons may have had very different tones, but all dealt with the subject of the feast day, the slaughter of the Innocents, and each discusses the New Testaments attitudes about children, particularly that found in Matthew 18, the admonition that unless you become like children, you will not enter the kingdom of Heaven.

Wooden goes on to make a fascinating distinction between the middle ages’ view of what makes one childlike– innocence and purity– in contrast to the much later Romantics’ ‘veneration’ of chronological childhood, and further mentions that at least one sermon stresses there are elements of childhood, such as frivolity, which are not what Matthew is speaking of.

The tradition of boy bishops lasted for several centuries, ending with the Protestant Reformation.

Adam and Eve in the Garden

Christmas Eve was known as Adam and Eve day.  From the early 14th century, “miracle plays”– performances that told Bible stories for a largely illiterate population– were performed on that day. 

To a modern reader, the connection between Adam and Eve and the birth of Christ may or may not be immediately apparent.  But the plays highlighted the importance of Christ returning, to bring us redemption from the Fall; to remind the people that once we had paradise, and, thanks to Christ coming to Earth as man, we may have Paradise again.  It stressed the importance of the Christmas season and Christ’s coming, in their lives.

Christmas trees were called “Paradise Trees” because they originally were used as a prop in the Christmas Eve miracle plays centering on Eden, or Paradise.  The decorations on the tree stem partly from the apples hung there to symbolize Adam and Eve, and partly from the legend that says evergreens bloom at midnight on Christmas Eve, thus leading to the tradition of decorating the trees with both fruits and paper flowers.  Round white wafers– representing the communion host– were also hung in the boughs as a reminder of redemption coming through the birth of Christ.  The fall of man was a key component to understanding the significance of the birth of Christ.

Adam and Eve Day, on the 24th, and Christmas Day on the 25th, were immediately followed by St. Stephen’s Day or Boxing Day on December 26, a day popular for visiting friends and family.

From the middle ages, Boxing Day was a day in which servants received a yearly gift much like our current Christmas bonuses, and were free of their duties for a day, in exchange for having made sure their masters had a smooth and pleasant Christmas, some say.  Traditionally, it was also a day to give money to the poor, and has been a public holiday in Scotland since 1971. 

In Ireland, which, in the middle ages, shared a very similar culture to the Scottish highlands, the same day is also called Wrens Day, after the tradition of carrying an effigy of a wren, or even capturing a live one to carry in a cage.  The ”Wrenboys” or “Mummers” who carried these wrens traveled from house to house, singing, dancing, and playing music.A a look at the wren in the cage was exchanged for treats.

A popular rhyme, later turned into a song, began thus:

Tomorrow… more on some very interesting traditions associated with December 28.

How might the halls of the great castles been decorated throughout the celebrations?   It has turned out to be a particularly difficult topic for research, with very little information turning up.

As mentioned in a previous post, trees might have been decorated with apples on Christmas Eve.  But the trees stayed outside, strongly rooted in terra firma.  Pine boughs would have been common, however, perhaps with plenty of ivy, holly, and mistletoe.  As it was a great feast day, we can guess that the rushes on the floor would be fresh, and likely a higher quality of candle used around the hall– perhaps more candles than usual.  A yule log would have burned in many hearths throughout the twelve days.  It’s a good guess, too, that it would have been a time of fresh linens on tables and altars.

But for the time, very little is recorded about those decorations.  I hope soon to find more information.

Today, of course, it is an almost secular celebration of lights, feasting, gift-giving and family gatherings.  But for the people of Glenmirril, Christmas would have been focused on the religious aspect, the birth of Christ, more solemn than what we know.  People of the time saw Christmas as a time of prayer and reflection, in hopes of Christ coming again.

They feasted, as we do, but not on turkey.  It seems no one was willing to sail west in hopes of finding an undiscovered country with such a creature.  Being of the upper crust, Niall, Allene, and the Laird may have feasted on goose, swan, and venison.  The poorer people of medieval Europe dined on Christmas goose.   Mince pies, filled with spices, fruits, and meats at that time, were popular, as were Christmas puddings, or ‘frumenty’ as it was also called.  Frumenty consisted of a thick porridge mixed with egg yolk, currants, spices, and fruits.  There were also plenty of stews, soups, fish, and boar. 

Before or while feasting, the lords and ladies may have been entertained by ‘mumming,’ which was the practice of putting on plays or dancing.  The story of Christ, with Herod as the villain, was popular.

Less common to our own time, hearths would typically burn with a yule log, a practice of both Vikings and Druids.  And the term wassail comes from the old words waes hael, be well.  We certainly do drink to one another’s health, but in medieval times, a hot brew of honey, ale, and spices was poured into a large bowl, which the host lifted to greet his company, with the words Waes hael!

The people of the medieval world knew caroling.  The word carol, in fact, meant to sing and dance in a circle, which, not surprisingly, the priests found a bit disruptive to Mass.  As a result, ‘carols’ of the disruptive singing and dancing in a circle during Mass kind were banned, and carolers took to the streets.  Hence the tradition of caroling door to door.  I, for one, am glad that the songs themselves are now allowed in church, but do not plan to dance in a circle, square, or any other manner, during Mass this year.  (Or next, just in case anyone is wondering.) 

In 1223, 67 years before Niall’s birth, St. Francis of Assisi created the first Nativity Scene in Italy, to explain the Christmas story to the villagers.

Niall and Allene may have seen a decorated tree, but it would have stayed outside.  Medieval priests would decorate trees on Christmas Eve with apples, as the day was known as “Adam and Eve Day.” 

For those of us who have managed not to get whisked back in time via a mysterious Scottish castle, we associate Christmas with gifts.  We might be disappointed, because for the medieval Christian, Christmas was a more solemn occasion, and gifts were not traded until Epiphany, or Twelfth Night– the night the Magi reached Christ in the stable.  On the other hand, of course, a medieval Christmas celebration lasted for 12 days.  Talk about partying like it’s 1399!

Sources:

http://www.historylearningsite.co.uk/medieval_xmas.htm, http://www.godecookery.com/mtales/mtales09.htm

http://historymedren.about.com/od/dailylifesociety/a/xmas_traditions.htm

As usual, sources disagree, but at least some believe the advent wreath has been in use as a Christian symbol since medieval times.  The advent wreath is a circular garland holding four candles– typically three purple and one pink– for the four weeks of advent.

Niall and Glenmirril’s chapel may or may not have known Nativity Scenes in 1314 and the years shortly after.  They originated with St. Francis of Assisi in 1223 in Italy.  It is possible the idea traveled to the Scottish Highlands in 90+ years.  He definitely would not have know Advent Calendars, however, as they were not introduced until the 1800′s in Germany.

For a December collection of medieval Christmas stories and legends, go to The New York Wood Carver’s Medieval Advent Calendar.

Sources: Alice’s Medieval Feasts and Fasts, Scott’s Catholicism Blog

In medieval times, there was, I believe, a much deeper and more widespread trust in saintly and heavenly intercession.  The Battle of Lepanto, for instance, which marked the end of the Crusades, is associated in many minds, with the Rosary.  On the morning of October 7, 1571, Don John, son of Emperor Charles V, sailed his fleet into battle, despite all military and weather factors being against him.  On his ship, he carried an image of Our Lady of Guadalupe– an event which had happened only 40 years before this.  And as Don John prepared for battle, Pope Pius V, with many others, was praying the Rosary for him, back at the Basilica of Santa Maria Maggiore.  Don John’s 65,000 men, themselves, recited the Rosary for three hours prior to attacking.  The end of the story is that the wind suddenly changed– inexplicably and mysteriously, according to witnesses– and Don John went on to an incredible victory, which he credited entirely to the intercession of Mary.

I was recently give the book ”By Sword and Fire: Cruelty and Atrocity in Medieval Warfare” by Sean McGlynn.  (It was my birthday present.  Men, please make note of this.  Your wives and girlfriends will love this book!  Seriously.)  Mr. McGlynn makes a brief note of the belief in heavenly and saintly intervention.  He notes a number of heavenly interventions:

• A defendant in the 1170′s credits his victory in trial by battle to having asked the aid of St. Thomas Becket the Martyr.
• William Crak, hung for multiple homicides in 1291, asked the help of Thomas Cantiloupe, bishop of Hereford until 1252, who appears, according to reports, to have brought him back to life.  Thomas Cantiloupe seems to have been a favorite intercessor for those going to the gallows.  (If he had any sense of humor, he’d be interceding for those considering marriage.  There are those pundits, of course, who would equate the two.)
• Saints Benedict, Ethelreda, and Sexburga are credited with the successful jailbreak of one Bricstan, wrongly imprisoned.

Mr. McGlynn mentions several others, and in contexts which the modern reader might find amusing.  However, the point is, saints were much more routinely invoked and credited with intercession in medieval days than they are now.

Some of the interesting stories I’ve come across, pertaining specifically to the times and people of the Blue Bells Trilogy, are the story of St. Bee’s, a parish in England, which comes up in The Minstrel Boy (Book 2 of the Trilogy), and the story of Robert the Bruce carrying relics with him into the battle of Bannockburn.

St. Bee’s is a beautiful, twelfth century abbey in York, England.  The story behind the name is that one St. Bega, an Irish princess, fled Ireland to escape marriage to a Viking prince.  Meeting Lord Egremont, she requested land to found a nunnery.  He granted her a cruel promise that Midsummer’s Day: he would give her all the land covered by snow on the following morning.  The last laugh was on Lord Egremont, as the next morning– a day in late June– three miles of his land was covered by snow.  Interestingly, St. Bee, or St. Bega, whichever you prefer, is associated with another miracle also involving snow.

Robert the Bruce is reputed to have been a devout Catholic.  He carried the relics of two different saints into battle, and invoked the names of several others.  The BBC page on the Battle of Bannockburn recounts how Bruce brought the Monymusk Reliquary, or the Breccbennach, which contained the relics of St. Columba, into battle.  On the morning of the battle, the entire Scots army, some five to six thousand, knelt before the barefoot and blind Abbot Maurice of Inchaffrey for Mass and final absolution before facing death.  Bruce himself invoked the aid of St. Andrew, the patron saint of Scotland, St. Thomas Beckett, and John the Baptist, on whose feast day the battle of Bannockburn occurred. 

By far the most interesting story, however, is the story of St. Fillan, a follower of St. Columba, and Robert Bruce.  The priest who had charge of the relics, afraid for the safety of one of Scotland’s treasures, was hesitant to bring them to a battle against the reputed ‘largest army the world had ever seen’ of Edward II.  So he brought only the silver case that usually carried the arm bone.  (As an aside, St. Fillan had one of the more interesting left arms in the history of mankind.  I will cover that in a later post.) 

On the evening before battle, Bruce stayed in his tent in prayer to God, and imploring St. Fillan, too, for his intercessory prayers before God.  As he prayed, there came a great crack of sound and flash of light from the reliquary, and the silver case flew open, showing the armbone of St. Fillan.  The priest in charge of the relics rushed in, and, seeing them, proclaimed a miracle, confessing to the Bruce that he had left the armbone itself behind in safety.