They passed a few parties of travellers and a lone friar the next morning but, apart from a quick greeting, no-one seemed unduly interested in them. When they reached Loudon Hill, the Irvine petered out and the glen continued along the east flowing Avon Water. Arriving at the junction with the Glengavel Water, they breathed a sigh of relief and turned south along it into the deserted hills. The next day they dropped down out of the high hills into Douglasdale.

  Tom Dickson held a small manor called Hazelside as tenant to the Lord of Douglasdale. Since the imprisonment and death in the Tower of London of his friend and chieftain, Sir William Douglas, he had held the manor from the man that Edward Longshanks had given Douglasdale to - Sir Robert Clifford, Lord of Skipton and Lord Marshal of England; not that he ever saw Clifford, only his steward once a year to collect his scutage as he would never give military service to the Englishman.

  He had ridden over to discuss a drainage problem with one of his own tenants when he saw two men with a pack horse riding down the valley between Hagshaw and Hareshaw Hills. It was unusual to see anyone approaching from that direction, unless someone had been out hunting but these looked like travellers. Tom wondered why anyone would risk riding through the wild hills instead of using the well-travelled roads and drovers’ ways.

  Loosening the sword he always wore at his side, Tom rode forward to meet the two men.

  ‘What’s your business here in Douglasdale, strangers?’ he challenged them.

  ‘Get away with you Tom, we’re not strangers, Douglasdale is our home. Have we changed so much?’ James replied with a grin.

  Tom Dickson was puzzled. He didn’t recognise the two young men who he had last seen as boys but there was something familiar about their faces. Then he realised that they resembled William Douglas.

  ‘Never! Jamie is it yourself man? And is it Malcolm with you? Well, I never thought I’d see you again.’ Suddenly his look of delight changed to one of concern. ‘You know that there is a price on both your heads?’

  ‘Yes, of course. It’s not nearly enough!’

  Tom laughed with the other two and, after embracing each other, the three men rode off to Tom’s house at Hazelside.

  Over the next week various men who Tom felt that he could trust were invited to meet James at night, either at Hazelside or at their own houses, and they pledged fealty to him. Once they had gathered fifty men they started to think how they could capture the castle that stood just outside the town of Douglas. Finally James’ plans were finalised and all they had to do now was to wait for Palm Sunday. As the castle only had a tiny chapel, Tom was certain that the garrison would go to the church in the town for mass, as they had done at Christmas.

  The church was packed when the garrison arrived. James and his fifty men stood with their weapons concealed under their cloaks at the front of the congregation. The priest, about whose loyalty Tom was uncertain, had been kept in the dark and he urged James and his men to stand further back to allow the garrison room to stand at the front. However, James stood firm as the nervous priest twittered in anxiety at his refusal to budge.

  When the castle garrison arrived they pushed their way to the front quite brutally, injuring men, women and children as they did so. As soon as they reached the front they found that the men there refused to move out of their way and things started to get ugly. Suddenly Tom yelled ‘A Douglas’, produced an axe from under his cloak and brought it down on the head of the unsuspecting constable of the castle.

  For a moment no-one moved. Although they had been through the plan several times, the men of Douglasdale weren’t ready when Tom gave the signal. Jamie and Malcom started to lay about them with their swords whilst the townsfolk made a mad dash for the doorway, trampling two young children to death as they did so. As soon as they had gone, Malcom Douglas and two other men slammed the door shut and bolted it, standing in front of it to prevent any escape by the garrison.

  James’ men and the English soldiers recovered their wits at about the same time. However, many of the soldiers had come armed only with a dagger and only those on duty wore armour and carried swords. The Douglas men were armed with swords, axes and daggers and they outnumbered the soldiers by nearly two to one. Within ten minutes it was all over. Twenty of the garrison lay dead and the other ten had surrendered. Unfortunately one of the five dead on Douglas’ side was Tom Dickson, stabbed in the back by a dagger.

  Assisted by the townspeople, the English dead were thrown onto the midden heap and Tom and his men were laid out in the church to be washed and prepared for their funerals. Then James led his men up to the castle. The defenders proved to be one sentry, who had been left behind to guard the gate, the cook, who was preparing the midday meal, and two kitchen boys. The sentry fled as soon as he saw the mob of men approaching, leaving the gate wide open, and five minutes later James Douglas had regained possession of his home.

  Malcolm had been worried by the fierce, almost wild, look on James’ face during the aftermath of the fight. Now when he gave the order for the captured soldiers, including the wounded, to be slaughtered, Malcolm remonstrated with him.

  ‘Have you forgotten what the English did to William Wallace, to Neil, Thomas and Alexander Bruce, to Christopher Seton and countless others? Have you forgotten that Longshanks starved our own father to death? What do you suppose this lot would do to us if they caught us? No, Malcolm; they are getting an easy death by comparison.’

  Malcolm nodded a reluctant agreement and sat beside his brother in silence as their men ate the meal intended for the garrison and drank copious quantities of beer. Afterwards they loaded carts and packhorses with anything valuable they could find, including weapons and armour, and all the food that they could carry. The rest of the food and drink was piled high in the great hall with all the furnishings and any other flammable material and the pile topped off with the slaughtered soldiers and the English cook. The kitchen boys joined the Scots. After poisoning the well with salt and the constable’s dead destrier, for which James had no use, the pile was set alight.

  As he watched from a distance, the interior of the keep burned and the wooden floors crashed to the ground inside, sending up an impressive shower of sparks. Eventually the stone at the top of the keep buckled under the heat and caved inwards. It would be some time before that castle could be repaired enough to keep Douglasdale in subjugation again.

  The long train of men, women and children with the loot from the castle and their possessions wound up into the hills to the north of Douglasdale. A few had elected to stay behind, despite the warning that the English would exact retribution on them, however innocent they might be. James’ plan was to establish a base in the woods on Kype Muir, just as Wallace had done in Selkirk Forest, and launch raids from there. Malcolm had been impressed by the success of his brother’s bold plan but he worried that his thirst for revenge might be making him a little unstable mentally. He couldn’t forget the grisly spectacle of the funeral pyre in the great hall, topped off by the beheaded bodies of the English prisoners.

  The local people didn’t seem to be that bothered about this aspect of the gruesome heap though. They were more impressed by the food and drink that had been denied to the English, so much so that they were calling its destruction ‘the Douglas Larder.’

  Chapter Three – Excommunication

  March 1307

  Whilst the Douglas brothers were embarking on their attack on Douglas Castle, Robert Bruce and his brother Edward, accompanied by his small mesnie and the two hundred isles men recruited for them by Christin and Angus, were landing back in their home territory of Carrick. Turnberry Castle was held by Lord Percy and had a garrison, it was rumoured, of about three hundred. There were too many of them for Robert to try and emulate James Douglas’ exploits but, knowing the castle as he did, as there was only room for a hundred in the castle itself, a plan began to take shape in his mind.

  The majority of the soldiers would have to be billeted in the town. He and Edward spent the next few days contacting those inhabitants of Turnberry they trusted to gather information about those living in the town until he was ready to make his move. At midnight on the fourth night after he had landed Robert led his two hundred and fifty men into the town in small groups. Each had a list of houses in which English soldiers were living. He realised that some might still be in the taverns and others on duty in the Castle but he hoped to eliminate at least half of the garrison.

  He and three of Christian’s clansmen crept into the first house on his list. It was a small one room cottage with a sleeping platform above one end. The central hearth was glowing red, the fire having died down to embers and a few last flickers of flame but it gave off enough light for Robert to make out the recumbent forms lying snoring around it. Whilst one of his men went part way up the ladder to the sleeping platform with his finger to his lips to urge the family to remain quiet, Robert and the other two quietly slit the throats of the four men lying on the baked earth around the fire.

  It was the same story throughout the town. On only two occasions did the sleeping men awake and try to give the alarm. Perhaps their cries were heard in the castle but, if they were, Percy didn’t send out a patrol to investigate. In the light of dawn Robert’s men reported that they had killed nearly two hundred of the enemy, which left barely a hundred inside the castle.

  Percy still made no move to come out and attack Robert; instead he shut himself in his stronghold and settled down to wait out the siege. The King of Scots thought that his actions were cowardly but they suited him. Whilst Percy sat in his castle and Bruce pretended to besiege him, the latter contented himself with collecting the rents due to him as Earl of Carrick so that he could pay his men and purchase those provisions he couldn’t steal from the English supply convoys that he ambushed.

  Aymer de Valence, Earl of Pembroke and Edward’s Lieutenant of Scotland, was at Ayr with a thousand men when news reached him that Robert Bruce had captured the town of Turnberry and was besieging the castle. It was brought by an itinerant friar who could tell him that the besieging force consisted of hundreds of ‘bare arsed highlanders’, as the worthy friar put it. De Valence decided to stay in the safety of Ayr and its partially rebuilt castle until he could find out more.

  Whatever de Valence’s sources of intelligence were, the bedridden King Edward’s agents were evidently better at their job because two days after the friar’s arrival a letter arrived from the king. It demanded to know what his Lieutenant of Scotland was doing to apprehend Robert Bruce. The king added that he had also written to the Earl of Gloucester to spur him into action as well. Finally he added that he had called a muster at Carlisle of the Northern levies for the coming Eastertide.

  During the same week, Edward Longshanks felt fit enough to be carried in a litter for the three miles from his camp at Burgh-by-Sands to Carlisle Castle. Even if he hadn’t been feeling well enough, Edward would have gritted his teeth and have kept his appointment to meet the papal legate there. Cardinal Pedro Rodríguez de Quexada, Bishop of Sabina, was there to negotiate peace between England and France and to arrange the marriage of Edward of Caernarvon, Prince of Wales, to Princess Isabella, daughter of King Philip of France to seal the treaty between England and France. Even more important to Edward at the moment was the fact that the Cardinal, as the Pope’s representative, had agreed to repeat the excommunication of Robert Bruce and all those involved in the murder of the Red Comyn a year ago.

  The pronouncement of the sentence of excommunication was held in the cathedral in front of the king, his magnates and his Scottish supporters. The cardinal entered as a single bell was tolled, as if for a funeral. After reading out the names of those to be excommunicated and pronouncing sentence, the cardinal shut the beautifully illustrated chained Bible sitting on the lectern with such vehemence that a cloud of dust filled the air, causing the man to sneeze. When he had recovered he glared at one or two of the barons present who had had the temerity to snigger at his discomfiture, then seized the large candle sitting on its tall stand beside the lectern, upended it and snuffed out the inverted flame.

  He then strutted from the cathedral with all the poise he could muster. It was highly unfortunate that he was a pompous little man whose attempt at a dignified exit made him look even more ridiculous. Even Edward was tempted to smile to himself but he needed the papal legate’s support to conclude the truce with his old enemy.

  Copies of the sentence of excommunication were distributed far and wide in Northern England and Scotland.

  ‘How can I be excommunicated for a sin for which I have already been granted absolution?’ Robert asked his friend Gavin Stewart.

  The younger man shrugged. ‘All it means is that you can’t partake of the sacrament at mass and, if you die, you won’t be in a state of grace and therefore can’t enter heaven. Provided you don’t die there shouldn’t be a problem!’

  Robert looked at him for a moment, then burst out laughing.

  ‘Thank you Gavin, I feel so much better now.’ He thought for a moment. ‘But if I do die then do I go to hell or do I just stay in purgatory for all eternity.’

  ‘I’m not sure I know what the difference is. I think you need to talk to a priest’

  ‘Most of them couldn’t answer that question, nor would I trust the answer if they did. No, I need a theologian. I’m sure that cardinal would know.’

  ‘Oh, so you’re going to just ride into Carlisle and ask him are you?’

  ‘Yes, I think that’s exactly what I’m going to do. I won’t take Edward, he’s not calm enough for this sort of tricky enterprise. Do you fancy a visit to the wolf’s lair?’

  Cardinal Pedro Rodríguez entered his chamber feeling pleased with himself. King Edward had been in considerable pain today and so wresting minor concessions out of him had been relatively easy. The negotiations were nearly complete and he had achieved practically everything that Philip of France had asked of him. Soon he would be able to escape this cold and miserable wilderness and return to the warmer climate of Avignon.

  He said goodbye to his coterie of advisers and assistants outside his chamber, anxious to relax with his personal body servant, a fourteen year old Spanish boy called Xavier. He was therefore more than a little disturbed when he closed the door behind him and turned to be greeted, not by the pretty face of his servant but by a man who appeared to be a senior cleric by his dress and who was sitting in his chair by the fireplace. Another man, who might be the other’s chaplain by his appearance, stood beside him. For a moment the cardinal was annoyed then, when he saw Xavier lying bound and gagged on the bed, he became alarmed and made for the door. The chaplain beat him to it and stood there barring the way. He pulled a knife from somewhere in his robes and started to clean his finger nails with it, smiling at the cardinal.

  He turned back to the other man sitting in his chair and decided to try indignation.

  ‘Who are you and what do you mean by sitting in my presence. The only person who sits in the presence of a cardinal without being invited to do so is the Pope!’

  ‘Oh, come now. That isn’t true is it? Would you expect King Edward to stand in your presence?’

  ‘No, of course not. He is a king.’

  ‘And so am I.’ Robert Bruce said softly.

  The cardinal’s eyes widened as the import of what the man had just said sunk home.

  ‘Robert the Bruce,’ he almost whispered.

  ‘At your service,’ he smiled. ‘Well, not really. It’s I who seek a service from you.’

  ‘How in the name of..…’ He broke off as he realised that he was about to utter a profanity. ‘How did you get in here?’

  ‘Oh, very easily. The good Prior of Hexham was on his way here with his chaplain and an escort of two men-at-arms when he was good enough to stop and lend me his clothes. We left them in the care of some good friends of ours and rode into the castle on the Prior’s palfrey and the chaplain’s donkey. Then a page kindly directed us to your chamber, no doubt being fooled by our disguise just as the guards on the gate were. No doubt it helped that the good prior was expected.’ He smiled at the cardinal before continuing.

  ‘I think your boy, Xavier, was a little surprised to see us but he became very cooperative when Sir Gavin here produced his knife and threatened to separate him from his manhood. He even told us what close friends you two are.’

  The cardinal directed a venomous look at the unfortunate Xavier as if to say that he would deal with him later, a look that wasn’t lost on Robert.

  ‘What do you want with me,’ he almost spat at the King of Scots.

  ‘Well, you see I’m not as familiar as I might be with Church dogma. Despite what you may have heard from my fellow monarch, Edward Longshanks, I didn’t kill John Comyn in front of the high altar in Dumfries Abbey. He attacked me and I wounded him and later some friends of mine did kill him in the churchyard; that much is true. But I was given absolution by a bishop for any sin that I may have committed. Now my understanding is that excommunication is intended to force a sinner to repent his sin, not to punish him. Is that correct?’

  The unhappy cardinal nodded.

  ‘Good, I’m so glad that we cleared that up.’ Suddenly Robert’s demeanour changed from sweet reasonableness to rage. ‘So why in the name of God did you excommunicate me for something that I had already been absolved for. What is the point of absolution if you can later be called to account for sins for which you have been pardoned? It destroys the whole basis of confession and repentance. Surely even you must see that?’

 

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