King; I have stormed and taken the towns and castles which he unjustly claimed as his own. If I or my soldiers have plundered or done injury to the houses or ministers of religion, I repent me of my sin; but it is not of Edward of England I shall ask pardon.”
Nor did Edward give it. Wallace was quickly convicted, then marched outside and tied to a team of horses and dragged through the streets of London to a gallows erected outside the city walls. A large crowd cheered as the Scottish hero was hanged until semiconscious, then disemboweled while still alive. After that he was “drawn and quartered,” four horses pulling his body apart by moving in four different directions, and, just to be sure, he was beheaded as well. Edward ordered Wallace’s head impaled on a pole along London Bridge. He then sent the four pieces of the rebel’s body to Newcastle, Perth, Stirling, and the luckless Berwick.
Edward’s goal in such brutality was in many ways similar to his goal in the massacre and destruction he had overseen in Berwick nine years before: the deterrence of a people through unspeakable terror. However, just as in Berwick, Edward vastly misread the Scottish people. Rather than striking fear into them, Edward’s treatment of William Wallace elevated the charismatic rebel so that even in death he quickly became the national symbol of Scotland itself.
Wallace was the first great populist leader of any Western nation. Here was a warrior to remember, up from the backward wilderness of the wild southwest, who had dared to take on the most powerful army in Europe. Here, in contrast to the calculating royal class, was a leader who fought not for fame or reward, but in pursuit of his nation’s honor. Here was a man who had persisted despite the betrayal of the self-seeking higher nobility that always had seemed more concerned about their titles and their lands than their nation. And here was a national martyr who, with his last words in the face of a certain and horrible death, spoke only about the justness of his people’s cause.
William Wallace in his life and in his dying had shown a resoluteness of spirit and grace under pressure that won the respect even of many of his enemies. And once the people grieved him, his courage certainly must have shamed many of the higher nobility who had run from Edward on so many occasions when a united Scotland might have carried the day.
Among those whom Wallace must have both shamed and inspired was, beyond doubt, Robert the Bruce, who within months of Wallace’s death had picked up the great rebel’s cudgel and vowed to finish the job.
4
Bannockburn
ROBERT THE BRUCE earned his place in history by wielding the terrible, swift sword that finally obtained, from England and from the pope, Scotland’s recognition as a separate nation. And yet when it came to personal honor and loyalty, Bruce was made from a far different mold than Wallace. Indeed, from all historical accounts it must be said that he was a shrewd, ethically conflicted, and violently dangerous man. To be fair, Bruce was of the royalty, and he lived in an ethically conflicted and violently dangerous time. But in the year 1305 there was little reason for the average Scot or even his fellow high nobles to trust him.
The Bruce family, which also had been known as de Brus, was said to be Celtic in its origins. But it had been granted extensive landholdings in southwest Scotland and also across the border in northwestern England after the Norman invasion, and probably was a beneficiary of the Anglo-Norman advance into Scotland. Thus from the outset Bruce, who held the Scottish title of earl of Carrick, was more closely tied to the English Crown than with the Scottish yeomanry of that rough-hewn region. The conflict of these mixed origins was reflected in his immediate family. When the infant Maid of Norway died in 1290, Bruce’s grandfather, who was known as
Nor did Edward give it. Wallace was quickly convicted, then marched outside and tied to a team of horses and dragged through the streets of London to a gallows erected outside the city walls. A large crowd cheered as the Scottish hero was hanged until semiconscious, then disemboweled while still alive. After that he was “drawn and quartered,” four horses pulling his body apart by moving in four different directions, and, just to be sure, he was beheaded as well. Edward ordered Wallace’s head impaled on a pole along London Bridge. He then sent the four pieces of the rebel’s body to Newcastle, Perth, Stirling, and the luckless Berwick.
Edward’s goal in such brutality was in many ways similar to his goal in the massacre and destruction he had overseen in Berwick nine years before: the deterrence of a people through unspeakable terror. However, just as in Berwick, Edward vastly misread the Scottish people. Rather than striking fear into them, Edward’s treatment of William Wallace elevated the charismatic rebel so that even in death he quickly became the national symbol of Scotland itself.
Wallace was the first great populist leader of any Western nation. Here was a warrior to remember, up from the backward wilderness of the wild southwest, who had dared to take on the most powerful army in Europe. Here, in contrast to the calculating royal class, was a leader who fought not for fame or reward, but in pursuit of his nation’s honor. Here was a man who had persisted despite the betrayal of the self-seeking higher nobility that always had seemed more concerned about their titles and their lands than their nation. And here was a national martyr who, with his last words in the face of a certain and horrible death, spoke only about the justness of his people’s cause.
William Wallace in his life and in his dying had shown a resoluteness of spirit and grace under pressure that won the respect even of many of his enemies. And once the people grieved him, his courage certainly must have shamed many of the higher nobility who had run from Edward on so many occasions when a united Scotland might have carried the day.
Among those whom Wallace must have both shamed and inspired was, beyond doubt, Robert the Bruce, who within months of Wallace’s death had picked up the great rebel’s cudgel and vowed to finish the job.
4
Bannockburn
ROBERT THE BRUCE earned his place in history by wielding the terrible, swift sword that finally obtained, from England and from the pope, Scotland’s recognition as a separate nation. And yet when it came to personal honor and loyalty, Bruce was made from a far different mold than Wallace. Indeed, from all historical accounts it must be said that he was a shrewd, ethically conflicted, and violently dangerous man. To be fair, Bruce was of the royalty, and he lived in an ethically conflicted and violently dangerous time. But in the year 1305 there was little reason for the average Scot or even his fellow high nobles to trust him.
The Bruce family, which also had been known as de Brus, was said to be Celtic in its origins. But it had been granted extensive landholdings in southwest Scotland and also across the border in northwestern England after the Norman invasion, and probably was a beneficiary of the Anglo-Norman advance into Scotland. Thus from the outset Bruce, who held the Scottish title of earl of Carrick, was more closely tied to the English Crown than with the Scottish yeomanry of that rough-hewn region. The conflict of these mixed origins was reflected in his immediate family. When the infant Maid of Norway died in 1290, Bruce’s grandfather, who was known as
Similar Books
