The body of King James IV

 

King James IV of Scotland was killed at the Battle of Flodden Field on 9th September 1513, following his unwise invasion of England while King Henry VIII was out of the country. The battle was a massacre and there was some doubt as to which body was that of the Scottish king.

There then arose a problem, due to the fact that James had died having broken a Treaty of Eternal Peace with England. This treaty had been brokered by Pope Alexander VI, who had decreed that anyone who violated it would suffer excommunication. This meant that James’s body could not be given a Christian burial. It was therefore taken to Berwick, embalmed, sealed in lead, and then transported to Richmond Palace near London.

When King Henry returned to England from France he suggested that the body be buried in St Paul’s Cathedral, but the Pope would have none of it and so it was taken instead to the monastery at Sheen in Surrey where it was left.

Following further problems with the Papacy, King Henry proceeded to declare himself head of the Church of England and dissolved the monasteries, that at Sheen suffering this fate in 1538. King James’s body was moved to an old lumber room and forgotten about.

There are various accounts of what happened next. One is that nothing happened until the early years of the reign of Queen Elizabeth I, in the 1560s, when a glazier working on the building, which was then falling into considerable disrepair, reported that he could smell embalming spices. A delegation arrived to inspect the source of the smell coming from a lead box and left again, taking no action. The glazier then decided to open the box, cut off James’s head and take it home with him. Not surprisingly, his family was less than impressed with this bizarre trophy so he took it to St Michael’s church in the City of London where it was reburied and may well still be there.

However, a second story relates that the whole body is still at Sheen, buried in an unmarked grave. Evidence for this is entirely lacking.

A third option is much more entertaining but probably the least likely of those on offer. This is that James did not die at Flodden at all. Instead, he was rescued by the Queen of Elfland and has been living with the elves ever since. One day, so it is hoped by those who believe this nonsense, he will return in triumph to continue his reign.

© John Welford

The king who rode over a cliff

In 1286 King Alexander III of Scotland came to an unfortunate and unusual end. Born in 1241, he became king in 1249 when aged only seven. In 1251, aged ten, he was married to 11-year-old Margaret, the daughter of King Henry III of England. When he reached the age of 18 in 1259 and took up the reins of kingship in his own right, all seemed well for a long and successful reign and the production of suitable heirs.

However, things started to go awry when Queen Margaret died in 1275. This tragedy was followed by the deaths of her two sons, Alexander’s heirs, in 1281 and 1284. He also lost his only daughter in childbirth in 1283, although her child, a daughter, survived and was therefore Alexander’s sole heir.

In order for the royal succession to continue in the preferred male line, the king needed a new wife who could bear him more sons. He was therefore delighted to make a match with a French heiress, Yolande de Dreux, whom he married on 14^th October 1285.

By the following March there was no sign of the new queen being pregnant, but that did not cause Alexander undue concern. There appeared to be plenty of time for that to change, given that both Alexander and Yolande were still young and healthy.

On 18^th March 1286 Alexander was in Edinburgh while his wife was at the royal castle of Kinghorn, on the opposite side of the Firth of Forth. When his business was concluded Alexander decided to proceed straight to Kinghorn, despite the late hour and the fact that the journey involved crossing the Firth in bad weather and riding along the north shore in pitch darkness.

The ferryman tried to dissuade him from making the two-mile crossing, but Alexander insisted on doing so and the boat did in fact get across safely. Further efforts were made to hold him back when he reached Inverkeithing, with offers to put him up for the night so that he could travel further the next day in daylight and better weather, but Alexander would not be dissuaded from reaching his wife as soon as possible.

He therefore set off along the coast on horseback with two companions, but he never reached his destination. The king became separated from the other two horsemen in the darkness and he blundered on without knowing where he was going.

The following morning the bodies of horse and rider were found on the seashore at the foot of a cliff, over which they had stumbled in the dark. The point is still known to this day as “King’s Crag”.

With Alexander dead, and Queen Yolande not with child, the throne now technically belonged to Alexander’s 3-year-old grandchild, another Margaret. Guardians were appointed to look after matters, and it was widely expected that one of these would emerge as the true power in the land and be appointed as the new king, especially after young Margaret died at the age of six. However, King Edward I of England (Margaret’s great-uncle) now showed his hand and it soon became clear that no solution would be found that did not have his approval.

The net result of Alexander’s foolish decision to ride along a clifftop at night was that the throne of Scotland stayed empty for six years and when the next king, John Balliol, took his seat in 1292 it was only as a puppet of the much more powerful monarch in the southern kingdom.

© John Welford

Gruoch, Queen of the Scots

The name Gruoch may not mean much to you, but you may well recognize the title she gained through her second marriage. There is absolutely no reason to believe what you may have heard about her subsequent reputation, though!

Gruoch was a granddaughter of Cinead III, who was King of the Scots from 997 to his death in 1005. She was married to Gille Comgain, Mormaer (Earl) of Moray, who died in 1032. She then married Gille Comgain’s cousin, and it is at this point that pennies start to drop and recognition dawns, because the cousin’s name was Macbeth!

It was through Gruoch that the Moray dynasty inherited both a claim to the kingship and a role in the long-standing feud between rival branches of the Scottish royal house to control the kingdom. Macbeth won that struggle and ruled Scotland from 1040 until his death in battle in 1057.

But was Gruoch, as Lady Macbeth, really the ruthlessly ambitious woman who pushed her husband into committing a series of murders to gain and retain the Scottish crown? That part of the story would appear to have come from the fertile brain of a certain William Shakespeare – but it’s a darned good story nonetheless!

© John Welford

Macbeth, King of Scotland

It cannot be denied that the 11th century Scottish King Macbeth has had a bad press, not least from William Shakespeare, but how much of his bad reputation is deserved?

He was the son of Findlaech mac Ruaidri, the king of Moray, who was killed in 1020 by his nephews (Macbeth’s cousins) Gille Comgain and Mael Coluim. Macbeth took his revenge in 1032 by killing Gille Comgain, seizing the throne, and marrying Gille’s widow Gruoch.

According to Shakespeare, Macbeth seized the throne of Scotland after murdering King Duncan. This is true in part, although Duncan’s death was in battle rather than as a result of treachery. Duncan had led a campaign against Moray and lost his life at the Battle of Pitgaveny in August 1040.

Macbeth’s reign was somewhat longer than is implied by Shakespeare’s play. He had to fight to defend his throne, for example against Duncan’s father Crinan, whom he killed in battle in 1045. However, things were sufficiently settled to allow him to make a pilgrimage to Rome in 1050 – he was the only reigning King of Scotland ever to do this.

A greater threat to Macbeth’s throne came from Duncan’s son Malcolm, who was backed by a strong army from Northumbria. Battle was joined at Dunsinane (in what is now Perthshire) in July 1054, at which Malcolm gained the upper hand and was able to force Macbeth to surrender a considerable tract of land. A second battle was fought in August 1057 at Lumphanan (Aberdeenshire) at which Macbeth was killed.

He was succeeded by his stepson Lulach, whose father Gille Comgain had been killed by Macbeth. Despite Malcolm’s victory at Lumphanan, it appears that it was not decisive enough to allow him to seize the throne at this stage.

There is no indication in the historical record that Macbeth’s behaviour as king justifies the impression given in Shakespeare’s play. Medieval warlords had to be strong to survive, and their actions were unlikely to be particularly “liberal”. That said, any description of Macbeth as a bloodthirsty tyrant seems to be far from the mark.

In Shakespeare’s defence, he used sources that were not entirely trustworthy and which relied on material dating from the early 14^th century. Even modern historians, with better access to contemporary sources, cannot be certain that they have all the facts about Macbeth correct. The above summary is probably about as good as it gets in terms of accuracy!

© John Welford

Anthony Babington

This portrait may be a representation of Antony Babington, who played an important role in the downfall of Mary Queen of Scots. There is some doubt about this, however, because the links between the known owners of the portrait and the family of Antony Babington are not particularly strong.

Antony Babington was born in Dethick, Derbyshire, in 1561. His family was staunchly Catholic, and Anthony served as a page to Mary Queen of Scots during the latter’s imprisonment at various places in and near Derbyshire.

He became devoted to Queen Mary and was therefore very willing to become involved in schemes to free her and place her on the throne of England in place of Queen Elizabeth.

In 1586 Babington became the leader of a plot to assassinate Elizabeth, but he did not appreciate that his every move was being watched by spies in the pay of Sir Francis Walsingham, Elizabeth’s secretary of state.

Walsingham’s chief aim was to implicate Mary in the plotting, and it was the interception of letters between Babington and Mary that were her eventual undoing. At least, that is the official version – whether the letters were genuine or forgeries is another question altogether.

Whatever Mary’s measure of guilt, Babington’s was beyond doubt. He tried to escape justice but was pursued and captured, later suffering the traitor’s punishment of being hanged, drawn and quartered.

© John Welford