THE RUDDY LION RAMPANT
On the 3rd of March, 1213, a great feudal ceremony was performed at
Clerkenwell. On that day, at the Priory of the Knights of St. John of
Jerusalem, the King of England knighted twenty-one young men of noble
name, the heirs of the great vassals of the crown. Foremost among them
was a boy of fourteen, with a thoughtful countenance and handsome,
albeit the hair was somewhat too red, and attracted much attention; for
he was heir to the crown of Scotland, and, his father being old, he had
the prospect of early coming to his kingdom.
Moreover, the alliance of this red-haired lad was contended for by the
rival Kings of England and France. John, probably with his young
daughter Joan in view, offered to provide the Scottish prince with a
suitable bride. Philip Augustus, hoping to make him useful in the
struggle so constantly maintained with the Plantagenets, pressed on him
a daughter whom Agnes Méranie had borne ere the pope forced her husband
to repudiate her. The Scot, who was sagacious and intelligent for his
years, perfectly comprehended the game of his royal contemporaries; and
while they played he looked on watchfully, and with a keen eye to his
own interests.
Alexander--such was the name of the Scottish prince--was the only son of
William the Lion and Ermengarde de Beaumont, a kinswoman of the
Plantagenets, a lady celebrated for “a soft and insinuating address,”
which more than once saved her husband from the consequences of his
imprudence when he provoked the wrath of his powerful neighbours in the
South, as he did rather too frequently for his comfort. On the 4th of
December, 1214, however, William the Lion expired of age and infirmity,
and Alexander was ceremoniously crowned King of Scotland in the Abbey of
Scone; and scarcely was he seated on the throne of Malcolm Canmore and
St. David, when the Anglo-Norman barons of the North of England sent to
offer him their homage and to crave his protection.
Alexander, then about sixteen, was, naturally enough, rather flattered,
and more readily listened to their proposals than he would had he been
older and wiser. Accordingly, the barons of Northumberland did homage to
him at Felton; the barons of Yorkshire, somewhat later, did homage to
him at Melrose. Moreover, Alexander immediately raised the standard on
which, in a field _or_, ramped the red lion from which his father
William derived the surname by which he is known in history, crossed the
Tweed early in October, and laid siege to the castle built at Norham by
Ralph Falmbard, “the fighting Bishop of Durham.” But his efforts to take
the stronghold proved unsuccessful, and, after remaining before it for
forty days, he raised the siege, and consoled himself for his
disappointment by ravaging North Northumberland. Suddenly, however, he
learned that he was not to be permitted to slay and plunder with
impunity. In fact, news that John, with a host of mercenaries, was
marching northward in hot haste, reached the royal Scot’s ears; and he
made a timely retreat towards Edinburgh, to the very gate of which he
was pursued by the hirelings of the foe whom he had provoked.
It soon appeared, however, that Alexander was not so daunted by the
storm he brought on his kingdom as to leave the king and the barons of
England to fight out their battle without his interference. Far from it.
No sooner was John’s back turned than Alexander, bent on retaliation,
again mustered an army, buckled on his mail, mounted his steed, and led
his wild forces, many of whom were Highlanders, across the border.
It was the spring of 1216; and Alexander, having entered England by the
East March, penetrated through the bishopric of Durham, marking his way
with carnage and devastation. But, probably alarmed by the attitude of
Hugh Baliol and Philip de Ullecotes, whom John had intrusted with the
government of the country between Tees and Tweed, the King of Scots,
after reaching Richmond, wheeled round, and, carrying his booty with
him, bent his way homewards through Westmoreland and Cumberland,
halting, however, to attack and pillage the Abbey of Holmecultram, where
the Highlanders of his army were guilty of such sacrilege and atrocities
as utterly threw into the shade the outrages perpetrated by John’s
mercenaries at Coldingham, in the Merse. Much indignation on the part
of the monks was the consequence; and the monkish chronicler goes the
length of saying that, as a judgment for their wickedness, about two
thousand of them were drowned in the Eden while attempting to cross with
the spoil. But, however that may have been, this raid was not, in any
point of view, very beneficial to the cause of the confederate barons;
and Alexander remained quiet till he was summoned by Louis of France to
leave his home and appear at Dover, and render his homage as one of the
vassals of the English crown.
It was August, 1216, when Alexander, for the third time, crossed the
border, leaving behind the Highlanders who had brought such disgrace on
his former expedition. However, he had a considerable army, and
succeeded in making himself master of Carlisle, without being able to
reduce the castle. From Carlisle he advanced southward; and, after being
joined by his brother-in-law, Eustace de Vesci, he, while passing
through Durham, came before Bernard Castle, which belonged to Hugh de
Baliol. But here Alexander experienced the loss of a valuable ally.
Eustace de Vesci, while riding round the fortress, was mortally wounded
by a bolt shot from a cross-bow on the walls; and on De Vesci’s death
the Northern men were so discouraged that they abandoned the siege, and
dispersed.
Alexander, however, pursued his career of carnage and plunder. Sparing
the friends of the barons, but treating cruelly those of the king, he
marched right through England, reached Dover without interruption, and,
going down on his knees, placed his hand in the hand of Louis, and, as a
vassal of the English crown, did formal homage to the French prince as
his feudal superior. At the same time, Louis and the Anglo-Norman barons
swore not to make any peace with John without including the King of
Scots in the treaty; and Alexander, having thus been secured, as he
supposed, against the consequences of his imprudence, sojourned fifteen
days with Louis, and then turning his face towards Scotland, pressed
northward, proving as he went his respect for the laws and liberties of
England by taking the lives and seizing the property of Englishmen.
For a time Alexander and the Scots met with no enemy, and encountered no
opposition; and northward they went, slaughtering, plundering, and
burning to their hearts’ content. On reaching the Trent, however, they
found themselves in the presence of foes as cruel and unscrupulous as
themselves, in the shape of John’s army of mercenaries. Alexander might
well have stood aghast, for he knew to his cost that the hireling
soldiers of Falco and of Soltim had more of the characteristics of the
wolf than of the lamb; and, with the fate of Malcolm Canmore and his own
father, William the Lion, in his memory, he might well despair of
crossing the Trent alive and at liberty.
It seemed probable, indeed, that, not for the first time, the banner on
which the ruddy lion ramped in gold had waved defiantly in southern
gales was to be trampled ignominiously in the dust, when an event
occurred which averted the danger, and gave Alexander an opportunity of
indulging in fresh carnage, and gathering fresh spoil. King John was
dead, and a new scene opened.