James III

Preface

The Enigma

More than forty years have gone by since Professor Gordon Donaldson characterised James III as ‘The Royal Enigma’.1 He was not alone in finding it difficult to assess the king’s character and policies; for while his grandfather James I might be regarded as a ruthless enforcer of the law, his father James II as a constant warrior, and his son James IV as a popular Renaissance prince, James III defies such easy classification. The known facts suggest that he enjoyed a measure of success, bringing his kingdom to its greatest ever territorial extent, winning the struggle with the papacy over nominations to important ecclesiastical benefices, extending the business of the Lords of Council, the supreme civil court and early forerunner of the Court of Session, and dutifully summoning parliaments, as required by his coronation oath, on average once a year.

Yet he was also roundly criticised for failing to do his job as was expected of him, above all in the field of criminal justice; he was accused of an inability to staunch feuds in many parts of the country; and he was condemned for his use of base-born counsellors, who apparently advocated ‘the inbringing of Inglismen and to the perpetuale subieccione of the realm’2 – a convenient if not wholly convincing shorthand for royal foreign policy – and by their presence at court excluded, or at least minimised, the influence of the king’s ‘natural’ counsellors, the nobility. The result was a major rebellion in 1482, in the course of which James III was briefly imprisoned, and a further rising in 1488, during which the king was overwhelmed on the battlefield and killed attempting to escape from it. Thus, if we wish, we may view James III either as a king showing promise but cut off in his prime, or as a bad ruler who met his just deserts.

The problem of determining which of these views – if either – most closely approximates to the facts as revealed by the sources is that there are so few of them. The reign of James III falls awkwardly after the terminal dates of the major chronicles of Bower and Boece, and only receives adequate treatment in the much later sixteenth-century narratives of Mair, Lesley, Ferreri, Pitscottie, and Buchanan.3 While it is true that Mair spent his youth and early manhood in the Scotland of James III, his treatment of the reign does not extend beyond the minority in his History of Greater Britain (1521), which as its title implies has its own agenda. Giovanni Ferreri, a Piedmontese monk who had first come to Scotland in 1528, deals only with the reign of James III in an appendix to the second edition of Boece’s Scotorum Historiae (1574), and his account contains points of interest which are not to be found in the narratives of Lesley (1568), Pitscottie (c. 1576–9), or Buchanan (1582). These post-Reformation chroniclers were influenced not only by their own specific agendas – Lesley as Mary Queen of Scots’ Bishop of Ross, Buchanan as a Protestant revolutionary pushing theories of popular sovereignty – but also by the simple facts of James III’s death at the hands of his own subjects and his heir’s remarkable success as king. Thus King James’s failure was taken for granted by later writers as something understandable only in terms of his defects; and their collective efforts to point a moral owed not a little to the ‘black’ propaganda circulating in Scotland from 1488 onwards.

James III was ill-served by contemporary chroniclers. There survive only two fragments, probably fifteenth century in date, which touch on the reign. The first of them, which forms part of the pre-1514 Asloan Manuscript, and which was given the rather misleading title, the ‘Auchinleck Chronicle’, in the nineteenth century, is a vital source for the reign of James II; but it comes to an abrupt end, in mid-sentence, in 1463.4 The second fragment, some ten folios which form part of the short chronicle appended to the Royal Manuscript of Andrew Wyntoun’s ‘Orygynale Cronykyl of Scotland’, ambitiously seeks to cover the history of Scotland from its mythological beginnings down to 1482. Entitled ‘Heir is assignt the cause quhy oure natioun was callyt fyrst the Scottys’, this short chronicle devotes a generous two folios to the reign of James III. The author, clearly a Scot, associates the king’s striking of the ‘black money’ – the royal issue of ‘innumerabill’ copper pennies – as the principal cause of King James’s arrest and incarceration in Edinburgh castle; he complains about the royal counsellors, ‘at war bot sympill’; and he manages to provide Alexander, duke of Albany, James III’s ambitious and ultimately treasonous brother, with a clean political record.5 This remarkable feat might suggest that while the Wyntoun Royal Manuscript fragment could have been written as early as the late autumn of 1482, it might have been composed considerably later, after the rehabilitation of the dead Albany and the restoration of the Albany title for his half-French absentee son John, who would eventually become Governor of Scotland in 1515.

If it does little else to shed light on the reign, the Wyntoun fragment at least establishes that the popular later legend of James III – debased coinage, low-born counsellors, offending the higher nobility – had its origins in contemporary or near-contemporary writings. Perhaps the most striking of these is the short hagiography of James’s queen, Margaret of Denmark, completed in 1492 by Giovanni Sabadino degli Arienti, a Bolognese writer probably drawing on information supplied directly by an expatriate Scot studying at Bologna in 1489. This short work roundly criticises James III for his failure to govern the kingdom, insists that Queen Margaret had far greater skills in this respect than her husband, describes her collusion with Albany to lock up the king in Edinburgh castle ‘for the good of the kingdom’, and hints darkly at her death having been caused by poison.6 The darker side of James III’s government is also explored by John Law, a canon of St Andrews, the author of ‘De Cronicis Scotorum Brevia’, written before 1521, in which the royal favourites play a malignant role, and the chief among them, Cochrane, is associated with the coining of the notorious ‘black money’.7 And Cochrane the evil counsellor was certainly already known to Sir David Lindsay of the Mount, who had been employed at court in James IV’s last years and who, in his ‘Testament and Complaint of the Papyngo’ (1530), blamed the ills of James III’s reign almost wholly on Cochrane, ‘with his catyve companye’.8 From these writers it is only a short step to ‘The Roit or Quheill of Tyme’, by Adam Abell, an Observantine friar of Jedburgh; in his 1533 thumbnail sketch of James III, Abell complains about the favourites, associates Cochrane with the death of John, earl of Mar, the king’s younger brother, and comes close to writing a eulogy of Alexander, duke of Albany, without whose assistance King James was apparently doomed.9

In sum: it is clear that though the post-Reformation chroniclers greatly embellished earlier tales about James III in order to portray a negative view of his government, the origins of some of these stories are probably contemporary; and some, such as those of Lindsay of the Mount and Abell, were written by men who were broadly sympathetic to the king. We cannot therefore discount the favourites and their malign influence as the invention of a later age. It must be admitted, however, that only recourse to the official records of the reign – acts of parliament and its judicial committee, the Lords Auditors, the Lords of Council, exchequer rolls, Treasurer’s accounts, and the Register of the Great Seal – can provide us with anything approaching a rounded picture of James III and his government.

Here we appear to be on firmer ground. The acts of King James’s parliaments mostly survive and have been printed. Recently they have been incisively analysed by Roland Tanner, and form part of the vast project undertaken over the last eleven years to make available online all the business of the Scottish parliament between 1235 and 1707.10 This source adds greatly to our knowledge of the workings of James III’s government. Thus we often know exactly who turned up to sessions of parliament and who were voted on to its committees; and from the acts passed we can sometimes infer whose influence was at work in the legislative process. However, the parliamentary records only reveal what decisions were finally endorsed. Clearly some, perhaps much, legislation was contentious, and will have been the subject of heated debates which have not survived. In such cases, it appears that the debate on a draft act or acts was followed by a vote, giving the full body of the Three Estates the final authority to accept or reject legislation.11 A measure of the Crown’s success, then, was its ability in handling parliaments; for as Tanner has shown conclusively, the Estates – even in sessions ‘packed’ with royal supporters – could never be taken for granted.

The acts of individual parliaments may frequently be supplemented by the workings of its judicial committee, the Lords Auditors of Causes and Complaints, records of which begin in this reign;12 while the records of the Lords of Council in Civil Causes, though frustratingly incomplete, allow us an insight into the workings of those royal councillors detailed to act as judges when parliament was not in session. Indeed, the Lords of Council records bring us closer than anything else to the day-to-day judicial business of James III’s government; and it is regrettable that, when they would have had greatest value as a source – between 1480 and 1483, and after 1485 – they have not survived.13

Fortunately, royal exchequer records survive in some quantity for this reign, though they are by no means complete.14 The greatest disappointment, however, lies in the fact that the Treasurer’s accounts, which record the casual expenditure of the Crown and provide fascinating insights into the workings of government from 1488 onwards, survive for a mere sixteen months – August 1473 to December 1474 – of James III’s reign.15 Thus we see only the tip of the iceberg; and perhaps much of the James III enigma lies in our difficulty in fathoming the workings of the court and royal council. A full run of Treasurer’s accounts, for example, would surely reveal the extent to which King James relied on the bad counsellors beloved of the later chroniclers.

As it is, for information on royal grants, confirmations, rewards and council personnel, we are heavily dependent on the Register of the Great Seal,16 together with some unregistered royal charters and privy seal letters. Ecclesiastical records, ranging from volumes of papal registers to the only partially published registers of supplications to Rome, may be used together with records of Scottish church personnel to identify and follow the careers of churchmen involved in the politics of James III’s reign.17

Thus the ‘official’ sources for the reign are extensive but by no means complete. Above all, they do not allow us more than glimpses of the character of James III, for they are not designed to do so. There is thus a sharp contrast between the record sources and the chronicle narratives; for the latter leave us in no doubt – if we believe them – as to King James’s failings. This certainty poses obvious problems. If we consider only the chroniclers’ insistence on the king’s use of perverse and baseborn counsellors at the expense of his nobility, how can we reconcile that point of view with a glance at the witness lists to charters in the Register of the Great Seal, which reveal members of the greater nobility as regular witnesses to royal grants?18 The answer could be that James III was not following the advice of his named councillors, but rather of a coterie of familiars who do not appear in the records. This, however, would have to be proved.

It is clear, then, that the main task of anyone attempting to understand the reign of James III must be to reconcile record sources and chronicle narratives. Over the past half-century, many scholars have attempted not only to achieve this, but also to place the reign in a convincing historical context. In 1958, with the impatience which characterises many English historians when confronted with the need to say something about Scotland, G.R. Elton dismissed the late medieval period as Scotland’s ‘messy medieval politics’.19 Partly in response to this lofty disdain, Scottish historians of the late medieval and early modern periods produced an alternative view of the period. Their argument stressed the need for the maintenance of a delicate Crown–magnate balance if fifteenth-century monarchical government in Scotland were to work. Thus the king acted as the source of justice and patronage, while the nobility supported the royal house as lawgivers and leaders in war in their own localities; in a remote and relatively poor country, in which the Crown could not afford a contract army, it is argued, delegation of royal authority in this way was essential.20

This vision of sweet reasonableness, with Crown–magnate cooperation the order of the day, was developed in the 1970s and 1980s until it became the ‘new orthodoxy’ in late medieval Scottish history, replacing the traditional concept of king and magnates in endless confrontation. For a time it proved a refreshing change of emphasis; but it depended heavily on pointing up James III as the exception who proved the rule, a calamitous failure who could not, or would not, provide justice or effective leadership in war. Yet he was allowed to rule for some nineteen years, an indication that Scottish magnates took up arms even against an impossible king with extreme reluctance.

This view of a relatively stable late medieval Scotland, with only one disastrous king and no changes of dynasty – in contrast with England’s three – has never been wholly accepted. Ranald Nicholson, for example, always believed that there were far too many exceptions to the rule of Crown–magnate cooperation;21 and the recent work of Drs Brown, Boardman, McGladdery and Dawson suggests, at the very least, that Stewart monarchs throughout the late fourteenth and much of the fifteenth century were weighed in the balance by their subjects and often found wanting.22 Viewing all this scholarly activity with a cool eye, Professor James Burns found it difficult:

to repress altogether a sense of frustration when one finds that the ‘revisionist’ scholarship which seemed to have established a ‘new orthodoxy’ . . . has itself fallen victim to fresh revisions . . . which, if they do not quite restore the status quo ante, do seem to take us to a similar point on the next twist of the historiographical spiral.23

Professor Burns’ frustration is understandable; on the other hand, the challenging of orthodoxies is the very stuff of historical enquiry, and it must be admitted, in the light of recent studies, that the comfortable assumptions of the ‘new orthodoxy’ of late medieval stability and Crown–magnate harmony appear increasingly unsound. For it is plain that the agenda being pursued by James III’s two predecessors – involving the breaking of great territorial magnates in order to increase the authority and resources of the Crown – was unlikely to commend itself to large sections of the Second Estate. At the same time, royal efforts to enforce the law, together with abortive attempts to codify it from 1426 onwards, cut across what were seen to be the rights of those exercising local jurisdictions. Given two dynamic rulers determined to extend the power and resources of the Crown, confrontation with, and amongst, magnates on a grand scale was to be expected. It occurred in 1425, 1429, 1431, 1436, 1437, 1440, 1444–5, 1449, 1451, 1452, 1455 and (arguably) 1458. In the course of these Crown–magnate disputes, James I was assassinated and James II found himself targeted for removal.24 Between 1424 and 1460, then, the argument for governmental stability based on Crown–magnate cooperation is hardly sustainable.

James III, though more fortunate than his father and grandfather in that he did not face an immediate challenge from either Stewarts or Black Douglases, inherited the agenda of both kings, seeking a prestigious foreign marriage, the acquisition of territory at home and abroad through war, annexation or forfeiture, the immediate extension of royal influence over the administration of the law, and a successful outcome to the long-standing struggle between Crown and papacy over appointments to major ecclesiastical benefices. In pursuing these aims, King James was not only following a time-honoured Scottish monarchical tradition, but also seeking to emulate his wealthier European contemporaries. This was a high-risk strategy, the success or failure of which would depend, not on the king’s skills in foreign policy, but on his ability to govern effectively in his own kingdom, to regulate rather than to rule, as Dr Ronald Cant put it many years ago.

Whether James III had these skills is the subject of this book. The nature of his domestic problems is perhaps best summed up in a collection of miscellaneous transcripts of documents relating to various aspects of late-sixteenth century Scotland, to be found in the British Library. The anonymous author of one of these – five folios recording ‘The General State of the Scottish Commonwealth with the cause of their often mutinies and other disorders’ – bemoans the king’s lack of absolute power in governing his realm, chiefly because of the strength of the nobility. To illustrate his point, the writer tells a tale drawn from the reign of James III. Judicial appeals, he complains:

lyeth not universally suppream to the Prince; for that diverse of the nobility hold and execute justice absolutely, without appeal to the Prince, within their jurisdictions, by charters hereditary, which the Prince cannot void; for example, in the Earle of Morton’s charter, which James the 3rd tore openly, being offended with the absoluteness thereof, especially with this part of no appellation to the Prince; saying, that he himself could have no more; but before he removed from the place where he tore it, he was forced by the nobility to sit down, and sew it up again with his own hand; and for that cause it is called yet the sewed charter.25

James Douglas, earl of Morton, was one of James III’s many uncles. The only context in which the tale of the sewed charter might be taken literally is that of the late summer or early autumn of 1482, when the king, for a time imprisoned in Edinburgh castle, was prevented from exercising any control over government by a faction of his uncles and his brother Alexander, duke of Albany. Morton may well have been part of that faction; certainly his son and heir John was involved in their treasons.26

However, the fascinating aspect of the tale is that the source of the dispute between Crown and nobility apparently lay in appeals beyond local jurisdictions; for such appeals, and James III’s efforts to stimulate them, were a feature of his adult rule from beginning to end. Perhaps, then, the tale of the sewed charter has some value in pointing up the king’s difficulties, which lay partly in his relations with the extended royal Stewart family, but also in his unavailing efforts to ensure that he was obeyed. In these areas, perhaps, lies the real enigma of James III’s kingship.

NOTES

    1 Gordon Donaldson, Scottish Kings (London, 1967).

    2 The Acts of the Parliaments of Scotland [ APS ], ed. T. Thomson and C. Innes (Edinburgh, 1814–75), ii, 210–11.

    3 John Major (Mair), A History of Greater Britain (Scottish History Society [SHS], 1892); John Lesley, The History of Scotland from the Death of King James I in the Year 1436 to the Year 1561 (Bannatyne Club, 1830); Appendix to Hector Boece, Scotorum Historiae (2nd edition), by Giovanni Ferreri [Ferreri, Appendix to Boece ] (Paris, 1574); Robert Lindsay of Pitscottie, The Historie and Cronicles of Scotland (Scottish Text Society [STS], Edinburgh, 1899), i, 152–212; George Buchanan, The History of Scotland , trans. J. Aikman (Glasgow and Edinburgh, 1827–9), ii, Book xii.

    4 National Library of Scotland [NLS], Ms. Acc. 4233, ff. 109 r – 123 v [‘Chron. Auchinleck’]. The text of the ‘Auchinleck Chronicle’ is given in full in Christine McGladdery, James II (Edinburgh, 1990), 160–73.

    5 British Library [BL], Royal Ms. 17 Dxx, ff. 299–308. The section on the reign of James III, down to 1482, is on ff. 307r–308r.

    6 Sabadino’s hagiography of Margaret of Denmark is given in full, with analysis, in S.B. Chandler, ‘An Italian Life of Margaret, Queen of James III’, Scottish Historical Review [ SHR ], xxxii (1953), 52–7.

    7 Edinburgh University library, Ms. Dc. 7. 63 (Law, ‘De Cronicis Scotorum Brevia’).

    8 David Laing (ed.), The Poetical Works of Sir David Lyndsay (Edinburgh, 1879), i, 77–9.

    9 NLS, Ms. 1746, ff. 110v–112r. Abell’s text for the reign of James III is given in Norman Macdougall, James III: A Political Study (Edinburgh, 1982), 314–15. For Abell and ‘The Roit or Quheill of Tyme’, see S.M. Thorson, ‘Adam Abell’s The Roit or Quheill of Tyme: An Edition’ (unpublished PhD thesis, St Andrews University, 1998).

  10 APS, ii, 85–196; Roland Tanner, The Late Medieval Scottish Parliament: Politics and the Three Estates, 1424–1488 (East Linton, 2001), 169–263; (online), Records of the Parliaments of Scotland to 1707 : www.rps.ac.uk

  11 For voting on specific parliamentary articles, see Tanner, Late Medieval Parliament, 250.

  12 The Acts of the Lords Auditors of Causes and Complaints [ADA], ed. T. Thomson (Edinburgh, 1839).

  13 The Acts of the Lords of Council in Civil Causes [ ADC ], ed. T. Thomson et al. (Edinburgh, 1839 and 1918); Acta Dominorum Concilii: Acts of the Lords of Council in Civil Causes , Vol. ii, 1496–1501 [ADC, 1496–1501]; with some Acta Auditorum et Dominorum Concilii, 1469–1483, ed. G. Neilson and H. Paton (Edinburgh, 1918).

  14 The Exchequer Rolls of Scotland [ ER ], ed. J. Stuart et al. (Edinburgh, 1878–1908).

  15 Accounts of the Lord High Treasurer of Scotland [TA ], ed. T. Dickson and Sir J. Balfour Paul (Edinburgh, 1877–1916), Vol. i, 1–75.

  16 Registrum Magni Sigilli Regum Scotorum [ RMS ], ed. J.M. Thomson et al. (Edinburgh, 1882–1914), Vol. ii, Nos 756–1730.

  17 Calendar of Entries in the Papal Registers relating to Great Britain and Ireland: Papal Letters [ CPL ], Vols xiii, xiv, ed. J.A. Twemlow (HMSO, 1955, 1960); Fasti Ecclesiae Scoticanae Medii Aevi ad annum 1638 , 2nd draft, ed. D.E.R. Watt [Watt, Fasti ] (St Andrews, 1969); Vatican Archives, Register of Supplications [Vat. Reg. Supp.], held on microfilm in the Department of Scottish History, University of Glasgow.

  18 For a detailed analysis of royal administration during this reign, see Trevor Chalmers, ‘The King’s Council, Patronage, and the Governance of Scotland, 1460–1513’ (unpublished PhD thesis, University of Aberdeen, 1982).

  19 G.R. Elton, New Cambridge Modern History, Vol. ii: The Reformation, 1520–1559 (Cambridge, 1958), 8.

  20 This ‘revisionist’ view of late medieval Scottish government and politics is most forcefully expressed in J.M. Brown (now Wormald), ‘Taming the Magnates?’, in G. Menzies (ed.), The Scottish Nation (BBC, 1972), 46–59; and by the same author, Jenny Wormald, Court, Kirk and Community: Scotland 1470–1625 (London, 1981), Chapter 1 .

  21 Ranald Nicholson, Scotland: The Later Middle Ages, The Edinburgh History of Scotland, Vol. 2 (Edinburgh, 1974).

  22 M.H. Brown, ‘Scotland Tamed? Kings and magnates in late-medieval Scotland: a review of recent work’, Innes Review, xlv (1994); S.I. Boardman, Early Stewart Kings: Robert II and Robert III (East Linton, 1996); C. McGladdery, James II (Edinburgh, 1990); J.E.A. Dawson, Scotland Re-formed, 1488–1587 (Edinburgh, 2007).

  23 J.H. Burns, The True Law of Kingship: Concepts of Monarchy in Early Modern Scotland (Oxford, 1996), 5.

  24 For details, see M.H. Brown, James I (Edinburgh, 1994); M.H. Brown, The Black Douglases (East Linton, 1998); McGladdery, James II.

  25 BL, Add. Ms. 35844, ff. 193r–198r, at f. 194r.

  26 National Archives of Scotland [NAS], State Papers No. 19; printed in APS , xii, 31–3.

JAMES III

CHAPTER 1

‘In Adversity Nothing Abashed’

JAMES II, 1452–1455

Towards the end of May 1452, in the sea-girt episcopal castle of St Andrews, Queen Mary of Gueldres brought her third pregnancy to a triumphant conclusion by bearing a son, christened James and rapidly elevated to the dukedom of Rothesay, the title long reserved for heirs to the Scottish throne. Both the queen and her husband, King James II, had cause to celebrate. In around three years of marriage, the queen had already given birth twice. In May 1450 a premature birth had resulted in a child which lived for only six hours; then in the spring or early summer of 1451 a daughter, Mary, was born and survived. However, the birth of a son and heir in May 1452 guaranteed the succession if the infant prince survived, and the happy news was swiftly brought to James II in Edinburgh by Robert Norry. The relieved king rewarded Norry with grants of land in Menteith and Stirlingshire on 1 June; and a fortnight later James Kennedy, bishop of St Andrews, in whose castle the prince had been born, received the ‘golden charter’ confirming all grants and donations made to the church of St Andrews by the king and his predecessors, and creating a regality for the loyalist bishop.1

James II’s rapid and tangible expressions of gratitude to his supporters tell also of his relief; for the child who, eight years later, would become James III was born during the course of the greatest crisis of the reign. On 22 February 1452, James II had stabbed to death his most powerful subject, William, eighth earl of Douglas, at Stirling castle. The crime was probably the result of long royal frustration boiling up into sudden rage, for the king had been at odds with the Douglas earl for around a year. At issue was the nature of Stewart kingship, very differently interpreted by King James and Earl William, both young and hot-blooded men. Probably in the late 1440s, Douglas had made a bond with the earls of Ross and Crawford, and John MacDonald, earl of Ross from 1449, appears to have renewed it. In a personal meeting at Stirling with James II – significantly under safe-conduct – Earl William refused service to the king against rebels – for both Crawford and Ross were hostile to the Crown’s ambitions in the north-east – on the strength of a pre-existing private bond with these men. The bond itself, probably a bond of friendship, created a link between three powerful earls who were former enemies, and whose united strength must have appeared extremely threatening to the king. On the other hand, such bonds were nothing new, but rather part of the established fabric of Scottish political society, regulating the exercise of lordship in parts of the kingdom since the early fourteenth century. It was James I, as Michael Brown has shown, who had taken the initiative in the 1420s by forbidding such magnate leagues, seeing them as a threat to royal authority; and James II was endeavouring to emulate his formidable father by insisting on his right to rule and demanding loyal service of his magnates irrespective of their private agreements.2

In a sense, then, the eighth earl of Douglas brought his fate upon himself; for though he had long been at court and on the royal council, he showed no respect for royal authority in February 1452, and his refusal to ‘break’ his bond with Crawford and Ross was an act of open defiance. Such defiance had however been provoked by King James when he sent a force into Douglas lands in the Middle March in the spring of 1451. The intention had been to make Earl William submit rather than to start a civil war; but the king had greatly overestimated his own strength, and the outcome was not a submission but a dubious compromise – a full pardon for the earl, a string of charters confirming Douglas’s lands and offices, and a hereditary grant of the Wardenships of the West and Middle Marches. In effect, the king’s position was weakened by his botched pre-emptive strike. Earl William returned to court and council with his power apparently undiminished, arrogantly describing himself as ‘guardian of the kingdom of Scotland’ and ‘prince and lord of Galloway’, but so suspicious of James II that he required a safe-conduct even to meet the king at Stirling in February 1452.3

The crime which followed not only raised the stakes in the Stewart–Black Douglas struggle, but forced James II into a fierce struggle for survival against a powerful coalition of justifiably incensed magnates. Indeed, the three years which followed the killing of the eighth earl at Stirling should be understood as an intermittent civil war in which the king lacked the support to deliver a knockout blow against the Douglas faction, and was initially in danger of losing his throne and his life. That he not only survived but crushed the Douglases and imposed his view of kingship on the remainder of the nobility was due to a combination of political skill, sheer good luck, and total ruthlessness.

In late February 1452, as the sensational news of the eighth earl’s death spread around the country, the king must have taken stock of his situation. He was without a male heir, his vulnerable queen was six months pregnant, he had embarked on a blood feud with the most powerful family in the kingdom, and he faced potential or real enemies in Ross, Moray, the Black Isle, Angus, and the Black Douglas heartlands in central, southern and south-western Scotland. Furthermore, James II was the fourth of the Stewart kings; each of his three predecessors had been removed from office by powerful magnate factions, indeed his father James I had been assassinated in 1437. In every case a sitting monarch had been removed by a faction supporting a different style of government. James II had challenged potentially the most powerful magnate alliance of all by pursuing the political agenda of his murdered father, and by making clear that he would not shrink from unlawful killing if it served his purpose. His task was now to survive a civil war of his own making.4

Presumably in the belief that the most effective form of defence is attack, James II moved swiftly south into the heartlands of the murdered earl. At the end of February, less than a week after Douglas’s death, the king was at Jedburgh; he had moved west to Lochmaben by 2 March, and six days later he had reached Dumfries. With him was his Chancellor, William Lord Crichton, long an enemy of the Douglases, and Andrew Lord Gray, one of those who had assisted King James in finishing off the eighth earl of Douglas. The king’s high-risk strategy not only involved showing himself in the territories of the dead earl, but also making grants of lands and offices in the south-west to those prepared to support the Crown. These included former Douglas adherents like Simon Glendinning and William Cranstoun, both of whom had joined the king in killing their lord, and more powerful individuals like Herbert Lord Maxwell and David Scott of Buccleuch; and the Chancellor’s cousin and ally, George Crichton, was recognised as claimant to the lands of Preston and Buittle in Galloway.5

On 8 March, already on his way north, the king called at George Crichton’s castle of Morton in Nithsdale. Less than a week later, on 14 March, James was back in Stirling castle, making a grant to David Scott of Buccleuch.6 In an aggressive three weeks, the king had sought to capitalise on the killing of the eighth earl by ‘turning’ former Douglas men and carving up the Black Douglas estates in the south-west with the Crichtons. This in spite of a series of royal charters which named Earl William’s brothers as heirs to all his lands. Whatever resolute qualities James II was currently displaying, the exercise of good lordship was not one of them.

His dubious stance was challenged almost at once. On his return to Stirling from the south, King James passed close by Douglasdale; and the royal party was rapidly followed, if not pursued, by a powerful force of 600 men led by James, the new ninth earl of Douglas, and accompanied by his brothers Hugh, earl of Ormond and John Lord Balvenie, together with James Lord Hamilton and Andrew Kerr of Altonburn. By contrast the king’s position at Stirling seems to have been relatively weak; only William Turnbull, bishop of Glasgow, Chancellor Crichton, and three lords of parliament witnessed the royal charter of 14 March. James II’s recognition of his danger was followed by his flight north towards Perth.7 Though we do not know whether the pregnant Mary of Gueldres was with her husband at this time, it must have been clear to the king that none of the major royal palaces was a safe place for her confinement; Stirling was under threat, and Linlithgow and Holyrood were too vulnerable to attack from the Douglas strongholds of Abercorn and Inveravon in West Lothian. The queen’s safety was secured by her removal to the episcopal castle of James Kennedy, the loyal bishop of St Andrews, who returned to Scotland about this time after around two years abroad, first at the papal jubilee of 1450 and subsequently in the Low Countries.8

Within three days of James II’s grant to Scott of Buccleuch and subsequent hasty departure, the Black Douglases entered Stirling in force. Sounding twenty-four horns, they denounced the king and his council for the ‘foule slauchter’ of the eighth earl. The safe-conduct, bearing the seals or signatures of those who had issued it, was displayed at Stirling market cross, and subsequently dragged through the burgh at the tail of a horse, while the Douglases spoke ‘richt sclanderfully of the king and all that war with him that tyme’. Finally they sacked and burned the burgh.9

The ensuing five months were the most crucial of the reign for King James. He did what he could to bolster up his shaky position, writing to Charles VII of France on 12 April to inform the French king of Douglas’s death and to seek his continued support; and he chose a modest military target, the tower house of Hatton in West Lothian, bombarded and taken in early April, its Douglas adherent William Lauder either killed or executed. Otherwise James II was the beneficiary of events largely outwith his control. On 18 May Alexander Gordon, earl of Huntly, defeated the ‘Tiger’ fourth earl of Crawford, one of the makers of the notorious bond, at Brechin. While it is tempting to see this victory as a sign of royal power beginning to reassert itself – the Auchinleck chronicler remarks that Huntly was able to raise a larger force than his opponent because he displayed the king’s banner and claimed to be fighting on James’s behalf – the truth may be that the battle of Brechin was no more than the resolution of a long-standing Huntly–Crawford feud. Undoubtedly, however, the king was the overall gainer, for he was now able to forfeit Crawford and to grant the Douglas earldom of Moray to Huntly’s brother-in-law, James Crichton, in June. And within a few days of the battle of Brechin, Mary of Gueldres gave birth at St Andrews to the boy who would become James III. When the king met parliament at Edinburgh on 12 June, therefore, he must have sensed that his position was steadily improving.10

Not surprisingly, this was a parliament largely made up of the king’s supporters, and its business included rewarding committed royalists – Kennedy, the Crichtons, and Lord Hay, who became Earl of Erroll – creating new lords of parliament – Hailes, Boyd, Fleming, Borthwick, Lyle and Cathcart – and, above all, absolving the king of his killing of Douglas in February. This last was vital; clearly the royal complaint that ‘certain of [the king’s] enemies and rebels, outwith and within his kingdom, have undertaken rashly to denigrate and blaspheme his reputation’ is a thinly veiled admission that earlier royal explanations seeking to justify the killing of the eighth earl had left many unconvinced. The sticking point may have been the safe-conduct. The royal solution was to appoint a committee of the Three Estates to consider the issue; unsurprisingly this royalist body held that all respites and securities had been cancelled the day before the eighth earl’s death, and that in any case the earl had been guilty of making bonds and conspiracies against James II, as well as ‘public rebellions frequently perpetrated by him, his brothers and accomplices’. In spite of the efforts of king and barons to persuade Douglas to give up his transgressions and bring his strength to the royal side, the earl had refused and had thus brought his death upon himself. As for the royal infringement of securities or respites, James was as innocent as the driven snow.11

This piece of fiction, as Roland Tanner has shown, was essential to the royal cause. Even if the outcome of the inquest into Douglas’s death was a foregone conclusion, it had been necessary for James II to submit himself to judgment by the Three Estates on the issue, and to have himself declared innocent in parliament. Beyond that, however, lay the reality of the situation. The king had not ventured further from Edinburgh than West Lothian in three months, and may have seen it as too dangerous to do so. On the night of 12 June, the first day of the parliament, Douglas supporters pinned a letter to the door of the chamber, bearing the seals of the ninth earl of Douglas, his brother Hugh, earl of Ormond, and James Lord Hamilton, denouncing the royal councillors as traitors and withdrawing their allegiance from the king.12

A robust royal response was inevitable. The June parliament had certainly been filled with supporters of the Crown, but it had also declared the king innocent of crimes against the Black Douglases. It was time for royalists to support James II with deeds rather than mere words. A sizeable host, presumably made up largely of those who had been at the Edinburgh parliament, followed the king into the south-west in late July, travelling by way of Peebles, Selkirk, Corhead near Moffat, and through Annandale to Dumfries. The king no doubt intended to turn his own supporters loose on allies of the Douglases, but the campaign which followed simply undermined James’s earlier efforts to bring Douglas men over to the royal side. The Auchinleck chronicler was scathing in his criticism of the indiscriminate pillaging undertaken by the royal host, famously remarking that they ‘did na gud bot distroyit the cuntre richt fellonly baith of cornes medowis and wittalis and heriit mony baith gentillmen and utheris that war with him self’ – in short, they failed to make any distinction between friend and foe.13 Worse still, the king had failed to engage with the Douglases and their allies, far less forced them to submit; and they remained a potent danger for a further three years.

What did the Black Douglases hope to achieve by withdrawing their allegiance from their sovereign and defying him in the field? It used to be argued that the ninth earl and his brothers intended to subvert the Stewart dynasty by producing their own candidate for the throne, the eighth and ninth earls’ uncle Malise Graham, earl of Menteith, who had languished as a captive in England since being sent there in 1427 as a hostage for the payment of James I’s ransom. Malise Graham, so this argument runs, was a threat to James II because he was the senior male descendant of Euphemia Ross, second wife of the founder of the dynasty, Robert II.14 However, the thesis that the Stewart kings, all of them descended from Robert II’s first marriage to Elizabeth Mure, were forever threatened by offspring of Euphemia Ross and their ambitious descendants, is quite unsustainable. The great Stewart crises since 1371 – the early and late 1380s, 1399, 1402, and 1437 – were certainly provoked by ambitious royal Stewarts; but their aim was not to replace the royal line with an alternative, ‘legitimate’ dynasty, but to coerce or remove the existing incumbent in favour of an alternative member of the same family, in every case but 1402 the son and heir. If the new ruler was a minor, a powerful faction of the great nobility, their rule legitimised by parliament or general council, would then conduct the government in his name.15

In 1452, these earlier parallels may well have been in the minds of the politically active nobility. Certainly James II had a son and heir, had indeed two sons by 1454. But he was faced by a coalition of powerful lords who had withdrawn their allegiance. If the king were killed in the field, the most likely outcome would be a parliamentary settlement explaining and condoning the motives of the rebels, and creating a Douglas-led governorship for the king’s heir, who, still an infant, would immediately succeed as James III. Thus when the Douglas earl used his influence in England to secure the release of Malise Graham in 1453, he did so not out of any sinister dynastic motive, but as an illustration of Douglas power. Two royal Stewarts had failed to negotiate Malise’s freedom, or had not wished to do so; but the Black Douglases could, and did. There was also another motive: Malise Graham was James Lord Hamilton’s brother-in-law, and the Douglases badly wanted to keep Hamilton firmly on their side.16

Thus if James II was to survive, he needed somehow to overcome the revulsion felt by many following his slaying of a powerful earl supposedly under royal protection, while the Douglases for their part had to exploit their position as subjects appallingly treated by their king. And they had to do so quickly, while King James was still weak.

Initially the Douglas earl appeared to have the advantage. A parliament meeting at Edinburgh in August 1452, immediately after the king’s counter-productive raid into the south-west, clearly required James II to negotiate a settlement; for though, as in June, the Three Estates were made up largely of the king’s supporters, and though they must have been summoned as early as mid-July in expectation of royal victory and forfeiture of the Douglases, nothing of the sort happened. Instead, on 28 August, two days into the Edinburgh parliament, James, earl of Douglas, and his ally James Lord Hamilton made a bond with the king by which both men returned to the king’s peace on certain conditions: the earl would abandon his claims to the earldom of Wigtown and lordship of Stewarton, and he, his brother (whether Moray, Ormond, or Lord Balvenie is not specified) and Lord Hamilton promised to forgive the king for the slaying of the eighth earl the previous February. Earl James would renounce all treasonable leagues, would faithfully perform his duties as March Warden, and would forgive the king for the lifting of Douglas mails and goods during the abortive July campaign. This astonishing accommodation, the ‘appoyntement’ of August 1452, was made between men who could not even risk a personal meeting; the king sat in Edinburgh, the Douglas faction at Douglas castle in southern Lanarkshire. And a king who had killed his most powerful subject as a violent protest against private leagues and bonds within his kingdom now made a bond with that subject’s brother and successor.17

Worse was to follow. On 16 January 1453 James II made another bond with the ninth earl, who had come north to Lanark from Threave in Galloway. The earl offered to give his manrent to the king, but this assurance of loyalty and personal service came at a high price. King James promised to restore Douglas to his estates at Stewarton and – even more surprisingly – to the earldom of Wigtown, which had been granted to the queen only five months previously. Most significant of all, however, was the king’s agreement to assist Douglas in obtaining papal permission to marry his dead brother’s widow, Margaret, ‘Fair Maid’ of Galloway. In effect, King James was helping to rebuild the Douglas patrimony in the south, having spent a year and more attempting to destroy it; and Dr Dunlop is surely right to describe the Lanark bond as a measure of the insecurity of the king’s position.18 He had failed to satisfy his friends and allies, whose careers, and indeed lives, depended on outright royal victory over the Douglases; and he now appeared to be rehabilitating his enemies.

However, these hollow reconciliations do not tell the whole story. Though it must have been difficult to gauge at the time, there was a steady haemorrhaging of Douglas support in the south throughout the early ’fifties. Apart from the two most dramatic cases, Simon Glendinning and William Cranstoun, who joined the king in killing their Douglas lord at Stirling, there were many others; Scott of Buccleuch, Douglas of Cavers, the Pringles and the Rutherfords all backed James II from early 1452 onwards. Later in the same year the king managed to win over James Lindsay of Covington, provost of Lincluden, former secretary of the eighth earl of Douglas, who abandoned Douglas patronage to become Keeper of the Privy Seal. Likewise lords of parliament looking for royal patronage – Fleming, Haliburton and Somerville – were early defectors from Douglas to the king; and in the south-east Alexander Hume and George, earl of Angus, saw their futures in a royalist victory and the overthrow of the Black Douglases. Angus was swiftly granted the Wardenship of the East March by James II; his influence in East Lothian, and that of the Humes in Berwickshire, ensured that the Crown could count on one area of the borders free from Black Douglas influence.19

Why did these southern lords and lairds throw in their lot with James II? Part of the answer may lie in a fundamental weakness in the Black Douglas heartlands in Galloway. The notorious ‘Black Dinner’ of November 1440, in which the young sixth earl of Douglas and his brother had been judicially murdered, probably at the instigation of their uncle James ‘the Gross’, who succeeded to the headship of the family as seventh earl, had brutally severed the Douglas line and transferred it to a different family, one with its power-bases in West Lothian and Lanarkshire rather than Galloway.20 The lordship of the sons of James the Gross – William, eighth and James, ninth earl of Douglas – may therefore have been less secure in Galloway than it appeared; and the marriages of both these earls to the heiress of Galloway, sister of the murdered sixth earl and his brother, may not have sat well with Black Douglas vassals in the south. Thus the king’s raids into the borders and Galloway in 1451 and 1452 may be seen as assaults on Douglas weak points; and King James’s sustained efforts to secure the earldom of Wigtown for his queen may have been based on knowledge that, while the Douglas affinity there had been loyal to the old countess, widow of the fourth earl of Douglas, they had decidedly mixed views on the activities of the sons of James the Gross.

If the Black Douglases were thus weakened in their family heartlands by internecine struggles stretching back for thirteen years, their strong connections with the English king and court would also prove to be a double-edged sword. It was one thing to use the English link to restrain James II, threatening him with the prospect of English armed support for the Black Douglases, perhaps even the installation of English garrisons in the south of Scotland; but it was quite another to use the Lancastrian King Henry VI as the principal prop for Douglas lordship, for this invited charges of conspiracy and treason. If the Scottish king could portray the Black Douglases not as the ‘war wall’ of Scotland, a formidable bulwark against English aggression, nor even as border commissioners conducting necessary diplomacy, but rather as a treasonable English ‘fifth column’ within Scotland, then the reputation of the family could be destroyed.21

Nor was the Douglas reputation all that was at stake. For whatever reason, neither the eighth nor ninth earls fathered children by Margaret, ‘Fair Maid’ of Galloway, though after 1460 she went on to have a family by her third husband John Stewart, earl of Atholl.22 This failure to produce a Black Douglas dynasty to counter royal ambitions in the south contributed substantially to the family’s inability to recover from its overthrow by the king in 1455.

In spite of these inherent weaknesses, in the early ’fifties the Black Douglases represented a formidable threat to James II, with a network of castles stretching from Darnaway and Lochindorb in the north-east to Threave in the south-west; and in West Lothian – perched above the river Forth, uncomfortably close to the royal palace of Linlithgow, and dominating the route from Stirling to Edinburgh – stood the great Douglas castle of Abercorn, a fortress which threatened the king at the heart of his kingdom. If James II were ever to do more than survive at the Black Douglases’ pleasure, he would have to make himself strong at their expense, and also enjoy a substantial slice of good fortune.

King James’s rash killing of the eighth earl of Douglas in 1452, together with the Auchinleck chronicler’s description of him as the king ‘that had the fyre mark in his face’,23 perhaps give the impression of a ruler with a predominantly violent, choleric temperament. There was, however, another side to the king; in his dealings with the Douglases, he displayed traits of pragmatism and cold calculation which recall his father James I. The ‘appoyntement’ of 1452 and Lanark bond of 1453 were no more than tactical retreats on the part of James II, a reflection of the political tightrope which he had to walk until he was strong enough to destroy the Black Douglases utterly.

He began by protecting his family. His son and heir James, born in May 1452 in the relative safety of St Andrews castle, stayed there for months with his mother. Some time in the summer of 1452, the king travelled to St Andrews for his son’s baptism; thereafter the prince was moved south, probably early in 1453, to Edinburgh castle, accompanied by his steward John of Lothian and two nurses. Throughout the following exchequer year, June 1453–4, the infant prince remained in Edinburgh. Clearly his father was taking no chances of a Douglas coup based on seizure of the heir to the throne. Not until 1455–6, after the fall of the Douglases, do we find Prince James as far afield as Doune castle in Menteith.24

In the field of foreign diplomacy, the king played a careful hand. Although his French ally, Charles VII, had acted throughout the 1440s as unofficial marriage broker in Europe for the Scottish king’s sisters, and had played a role in recommending Philip of Burgundy’s niece as a bride for King James himself, there can be no doubt that the Black Douglases were at least as well known in France as the royal Stewarts; and William, eighth earl of Douglas, had visited the French court as recently as 1451.25 Thus the Scottish king took care, following his killing of Douglas, to explain his actions to his old ally in a letter to Charles VII written on 12 April 1452.26 James II was probably preaching to the converted; more than a generation earlier, in September 1419, Charles VII, while still dauphin, had been involved in the assassination of the French Crown’s greatest subject, John the Fearless, duke of Burgundy, and was strongly supported thereafter by a succession of Scottish expeditionary forces. In the early 1450s, James II’s situation was, for a short time, equally perilous, and his main concern must have been to ensure the French king’s benevolent neutrality in a Stewart–Black Douglas conflict. Rather more French assistance may have been forthcoming. At the great siege of Abercorn castle in the spring of 1455, James II was well served by ‘the gret gun the quhilk a franche man schot richt wele’; and he subsequently wrote enthusiastically to Charles VII, describing the fall of Abercorn and the hanging of its defenders.27

However, the Auld Alliance was worth much more to the Scottish king than gifts of artillery or gunners. In the summer of 1453, French forces had destroyed the English army at Castillon, effectively bringing the Hundred Years’ War to an end and expelling the English from every part of France except Calais and the county of Guines in the north-east. In the same year Henry VI of England, still only in his early thirties, began to display signs of insanity; and in February 1454 Richard, duke of York, took over the government as lieutenant for the stricken king. In spite of Duke Richard’s efforts to come to terms with the Douglases, it soon became clear that Earl James and his brothers could expect little help from south of the border.28 England, in fact, was heading rapidly towards civil war between the houses of York and Lancaster; the Scottish king, by contrast, now had a chance to end the Stewart–Black Douglas civil war without outside interference.

Internally, also, King James’s fortunes began to change. Initially he had found that he could not remove Archibald Douglas, earl of Moray, and replace him with James Crichton, his Chancellor’s son, and had had to abandon his ambitions in the north-east, leaving the Douglas earl of Moray and his powerful allies John MacDonald, earl of Ross, and Alexander, earl of Crawford, at large and undaunted; and the royalist Earl of Huntly was left to shift for himself. However, in September 1453 the king had a remarkable stroke of good luck: Alexander Lindsay, the ‘Tiger’ earl of Crawford, died suddenly at Finavon in Angus. Recording the event, the Auchinleck chronicler studiously avoids giving his own opinion of Crawford, remarking simply that the earl ‘was callit a rigorous man and ane felloun’ who ‘held all Angus in his bandoun and was richt inobedient to the king’. Crucially, Crawford’s son and heir David was only thirteen, and James II moved at once to secure royal rights of wardship – and thereby royal influence – in the earldom. The king’s success – both short- and long-term – may be seen in the fact that his ward David grew up to become the most loyal of James III’s subjects and the first nonroyal duke in Scottish history.29

The Tiger earl’s death, and King James’s immediate response to it, mark a decisive turning point in the Stewart-Douglas struggle of the 1450s. The Douglas– Crawford–Ross bond was now shattered, Huntly’s principal rival in the north-east was gone, and he was free to extend his family’s territorial gains – all in the king’s name – at the expense of the Douglas earls of Moray and Ormond and their younger brother Lord Balvenie. For the first time since the conflict had begun, the Black Douglases were on the defensive.

Both sides now looked to the third member of the original bond, John MacDonald, earl of Ross, for support. It was probably in May 1454 that a meeting in Knapdale between James, ninth earl of Douglas, and Ross resulted in an exchange of gifts but hardly a meeting of minds; for as Michael Brown has noted, the Black Douglases and Clan Donald were rivals rather than allies in the north, brought together only by mistrust of the king. Clearly an alliance of Douglas earls and the formidable military power of Clan Donald Islesmen would have been a daunting challenge for King James; but no such alliance materialised. Instead, in June 1454, two months after the Knapdale meeting, Donald Balloch – lord of Dunivaig on Islay and the Glens of Antrim in Ulster, John MacDonald’s cousin and a man with a long record of hostility to the Stewarts – launched a seaborne raid on royal lands in the Firth of Clyde, sacking Inverkip, the Cumbraes and Brodick castle on Arran. Present in Donald Balloch’s fleet was John Douglas, an illegitimate son of the fourth earl of Douglas; but it seems likely that the raid was a private initiative by Donald Balloch rather than part of a Douglas–Ross agreement. For operating as usual on the strategy of divide-and-rule, the wily king had already restored Ross’s father-in-law James Livingston – forfeited in 1450, reinstated in 1452, and Chamberlain by 1454 – a blow not only against the Douglases, who had profited from Livingston’s forfeiture, but also a device to split the makers of the Douglas–Crawford–Ross bond.30

It was time for Ross to come to terms with his king. He was able to drive a hard bargain, for he alone could guarantee an end to the depredations of Donald Balloch. Thus, to secure Ross’s neutrality in the impending conflict, James II accepted the inevitable and allowed John MacDonald to retain the lands which he had seized in 1451 – the barony and castle of Urquhart on Loch Ness and the adjacent lands of Glenmoriston.31 Ross was the only beneficiary of the now notorious bond; and for his ambitious neighbours and the predatory Stewart king, he remained unfinished business.

James II’s other unfinished business was concluded in the spring and summer of 1455. He was moved to strike against the Black Douglases not simply because his position in Scotland was rapidly improving, but probably mainly because the lieutenancy of Richard, duke of York, in England came to an end in February 1455 when Henry VI recovered his wits and the Lancastrians their power.32 The Douglases had dealt mainly with the now displaced Yorkists, and in any case the political situation in England had become so volatile that interference by either York or Lancaster in Scotland’s affairs was highly unlikely.

Early in March 1455, James II suddenly attacked and ‘kest doune’ the Douglas castle of Inveravon in West Lothian. This was a foretaste of things to come: instead of harrying the south, the king intended to strike directly at the Black Douglases in central Scotland. From Inveravon he moved west to Glasgow, but only to gather together ‘the westland men with part of the ereschery’, a strong force of Gaelic adherents drawn from Ayrshire and Argyll, and led by Gilbert Kennedy of Dunure, Duncan Lord Campbell, and James Stewart of Lorn. As Michael Brown has pointed out, all these men, and the western communities over which they held sway, had most to fear from an alliance between the Douglases and Donald Balloch, as memories of the great 1454 raid on the Clyde were still fresh; and their response was to support the king. With this force James II moved south to Lanark and Douglas, burning Douglasdale and Avandale, and harrying Lord Hamilton’s lands. With remarkable speed the king then crossed to Edinburgh and levied a second force, this time of ‘lawland men’, and used this host to launch a fierce attack on the Douglas fastnesses in the Middle March. Any Douglas adherents who refused to join the king had their goods confiscated and their houses burned, while those who were prepared to change sides gave immediate oaths of loyalty to the Crown.33 There appears to have been little opposition. James Lord Hamilton, the Douglases’ main supporter in the area, had gone south in search of English armed assistance, which unsurprisingly was not forthcoming.34 In less than a month James II had levied three armies and crushed Douglas resistance from Clydesdale to the Forest. And at the beginning of April 1455 he brought his big guns up to the greatest Douglas stronghold of all, Abercorn in West Lothian.

The Black Douglases were –