Archive for the ‘Politics’ Category

History has always fascinated me, but some eras could have ended better. The thirteenth century is full of these unfortunate events. It ended badly for Scotland, but even worse for Wales, which lost its prince and its independence to King Edward I of England.

Edward had his eyes on Wales for thirty years, ever since Llywelyn ap Gruffydd’s forces had swept through his lands (held custodially by Edward’s parents and guardians) in 1256. Llywelyn’s army marched all the way to Deheubarth that summer and fall, and set the stage of Llywelyn’s twenty year supremacy in Wales. However, it wasn’t until 1267 that Edward’s father, Henry III, acknowledged Llywelyn as the Prince of Wales, a title he inherited from his grandfather–and another ten years after that before things fell apart for the Welsh prince.

Edward participated in the Ninth Crusade and despite the fact that his father died in 1272, he didn’t return to England until 1274, at which point he immediately turned a covetous eye on Wales. Why Wales instead of Scotland? It seems likely that Wales looked the easier target. Scotland had always been a separate kingdom, whereas Wales had fallen under the jurisdiction of England as a principality since the turn of the 13th century. Thus, invading Scotland meant attacking the rule of a reigning monarch; attacking Wales meant reining in a rebellious prince–a different matter entirely. In addition, in the winter of 1274, Dafydd ap Gruffydd, Llywelyn’s brother, conspired to assassinate Llywelyn and only a sudden snowstorm averted the attack. Dafydd, a long time friend of Edward from childhood, fled to England, and to Edward. Perhaps Edward believed if he unseated Llywelyn, he’d have a malleable prince in Dafydd.

For Scotland’s part, when King Alexander III of Scotland married Margaret of England in 1251 (Henry III’s daughter), Henry tried to insist that Alexander give homage to him. Alexander refused. By 1261, Alexander was well on his way to having as grand a plans for Scotland as Llywelyn had for Wales. He maintained a firm grip on power until his death in 1286.

By then, Llywelyn had been murdered (in 1282) and Wales had fallen finally, and permanently, to Edward. Subsequently, in 1283, Edward hanged, drew, and quartered Dafydd, the first man of standing to die such a heinous death. Edward inflicted the same death on William Wallace in 1305.

With King Alexander’s death, Edward saw Scotland as ripe for picking. With no obvious heir (all of Alexander’s children had died by 1284), only a granddaughter, Margaret, remained. When she died in 1290, upwards of fourteen different magnates claimed the throne, and they turned to Edward to arbitrate the dispute. He, of course, wanted whoever was crowned to swear allegiance to him. They all refused and eventually John Balloil was appointed king. Still, Edward maintained that he was the rightful overlord–and when he demanded the Scots join him in a war against France, the Scots instead allied with France. Unfortunately, this gave Edward the excuse he needed to invade Scotland, which he did in 1296.  This led to William Wallace’s rebellion in 1297.

Unlike Wales, Scotland fought off England’s attempts to subjugate it for another few hundred years, ending finally with the defeat at Culloden and the razing of the Highlands.

One of the great things about writing historical fantasy is getting to change history–usually for the better!

My After Cilmeri series, Footsteps in Time and its sequel, Prince of Time, follows the adventures of two American teenagers who stop the English soldiers who intend to murder Llywelyn ap Gruffydd, and save Wales from over 700 years of English oppression.

About Sarah Woodbury:

With two historian parents, Sarah couldn’t help but develop an interest in the past. She went on to get more than enough education herself (in anthropology) and began writing fiction when the stories in her head overflowed and demanded she let them out. Her interest in Wales stems from her own ancestry and the year she lived in England when she fell in love with the country, language, and people. She even convinced her husband to give all four of their children Welsh names.

She makes her home in Oregon.

To find out more, visit Sarah’s site.

Find Sarah’s books at: Amazon, Smashwords, and Barnes and Noble

It was not Adam Newton’s day.  He must have wondered, when he heard that he would be the next messenger to Robert the Bruce, what he had done to anger the clerics above him. 

The previous messengers, sent by the cardinals Luke and Jocelin, probably in early September 1317, had been pleasantly but firmly sent packing by Bruce and his barons.  While Bruce camped near the town of Berwick, preparing to besiege it and take it back from the English, they had arrived with a letter addressed to Robert Bruce governing Scotland.  Bruce smilingly told them that there were many men in his realm by the name of Robert Bruce, some of whom were indeed involved in governing the realm.  He himself, was Robert Bruce King of Scots, he told them, and would gladly accept a letter addressed to himself as such, so as to be sure he wasn’t opening another man’s mail.

Bruce was a man known for his mercy.  Yet he was also quite capable of being firm when the occasion warranted.  The English town of Hartlepool, for instance, felt Bruce’s wrath, watching from the safety of their boats at sea as James Douglas sacked their town, rather than allow them to pay for peace, as Bruce allowed so many other English towns.  Different reasons are put forth as to why Hartlepool was treated so harshly, but ultimately, what mattered to Adam Newton was the lesson of Hartlepool: Bruce was not a man with whom to tangle.  And Adam must certainly have known of his predecessors and Bruce’s gentle warning to them: 

“Had you presumed to present letters with such an address to any other sovereign Prince, you might perhaps have been answered in a harsher style. But I reverence you as the messengers of the Holy See.”

 

It is easy to believe that the unfortunate Adam Newton hoped Bruce would continue to have reverence for messengers of the Holy See.  Adam was the guardian of the Friars Minorite at Berwick, held by the English since Edward I’s infamous sacking and murdering of its inhabitants in 1296.  He would have been well aware of the background of his mission. Edward II, having failed militarily to deal with Bruce and the Scots, yet unwillingly to accede to Bruce’s very mild terms for peace, called in the big guns: Holy Mother Church. 

Pope John XXII issued a bull demanding a two year truce.  Lacking facebook or e-mail in 1317, the Pope entrusted the delivery of this message, along with personal, sealed messages, to Edward and Bruce, the respective kings of England and Scotland.  Arriving in England, the cardinals Jocelin and Luke, sent two nuncios to do their work.  One was the bishop of Corbeil, and the other was a priest named Aumori.  In a side story that must have added to Adam Newton’s fears, the two nuncios traveled north with Lewis de Beaumont, the Bishop-elect of Durham, and were, on the course of their journey, attacked by bandits who allowed them to continue to Scotland (after taking their money of course), but took the bishop-elect hostage.

The bishop of Corbeil and Father Aumori made their way to Bruce probably in early September of 1317.  He was at the time preparing for his latest siege on Berwick.  He listened respectfully as they read the open letters, but refused to open the letter improperly addressed to Robert Bruce governing Scotland.

The cardinals, being told of the nuncios’ failure, corralled Adam Newton into the second attempt. 

Father Newton, anticipating a less than warm welcome, left his Very Important Papers at Berwick for safe-keeping before heading off in search of Bruce.  It was the middle of December when he found the king of Scots camping in the woods of Old Cambus, some twelve miles from Berwick, in the thick of building siege equipment.  Lord Alexander Seton, seneschal of the king, granted Newton safe-conduct, and the man made the 24 mile round trip trek back to Berwick for those papers, and back to Old Cambus to deliver them to Bruce.

I can guarantee that a 24 mile journey in Scotland in December was not a pleasant one.  On his return to Old Cambus, Seton informed him he would not be admitted to the king’s presence, but that he must hand over the papers to be taken to Bruce for his inspection.

Bruce’s patience, by this time, had been strained.  He repeated, with less tolerance than on the previous attempt, one infers from reports, his stance that he would not accept improperly any communication which withheld his royal title, and that, furthermore, he would take Berwick back for Scotland.

Adam Newton, being either a man of courage and duty, or completely foolhardy, determined to deliver his message, anyway, and publicly announced the Pope’s two-year truce between England and Scotland, to the gathered barons and spectators.  Tytler’s History of Scotland tells us the result:

…his pro­clamation was treated with such open marks of insolence and contempt, that he began to tremble for the safety of his person, and earnestly implored them to permit him to pass forward into Scotland to the presence of those prelates with whom he was com­manded to confer, or, at least, to have a safe-conduct back again to Berwick.

Bruce sent Father Newton away, refusing to give him safe conduct papers for his return trip.  One can imagine how Father Newton might have felt, traveling through what was essentially enemy territory, with the displeasure of the king at his back.

So it is not surprising, given both Bruce’s displeasure and his merciful nature, that Father Newton was accosted by four bandits, stripped of his documents, and, according to some sources, all his clothing, but left essentially unhurt and allowed to go his way.  (And we’ll hope that in December he found himself clothes rather quickly!)

Newton later sent a letter to the two cardinals stating: “It is rumoured that the Lord Robert and his accomplices, who instigated this out­rage, are now in possession of the letters intrusted to me.”

No doubt they were.

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