In c. 1230, forces representing the Scottish crown defeated the latest insurrection originating in northern Scotland in the name of the MacWilliam family. Representatives of this family had been raising rebellion against the royal dynasty for at least fifty years. The English Lanercost Chronicle (c. 1285âc. 1346)1 describes the events that followed this most recent MacWilliam defeat:
et inimicis prospere subactis, aliquantulum in sanguinem occisorum crudelius vindicatum est. Nam eiusdem Mac Willelmi filia, adhuc recens de matris utero edita, ante conspectum fori sub voce praeconia, in burgo de Forfar, innocens traditur neci, capite ipsius ad columnam crucis eliso et cerebro excusso, e contra dicente Domino, ânon occidentur filii pro patribus â¦â
[And after the enemy had been successfully overcome, a somewhat too cruel vengeance was taken for the blood of the slain: the same MacWilliamâs daughter, who had not long left her motherâs womb, innocent as she was, was put to death, in the burgh of Forfar, in view of the market-place, after a proclamation by the public crier: her head was struck against the column of the [market] cross, and her brains dashed out. Yet God says, to the contrary effect, âSons shall not be slain for their fathersâ â¦].2
This event appears to represent the ultimate victory of the successors of Malcolm Canmore in what had been a long fight to establish legitimacy and authority in opposition to various claimants to the throne and territorial potentates with royal pretensions. The death of the MacWilliam infant was a very public display of royal justice against a rebellious family, and an obvious line in the sand after which there would be no more MacWilliams. The barbarity of this act and the extirpation of a family that this action symbolized have drawn consistent criticism from historians of this period. Such analysis has described this execution as âthe deliberate extinction of a segment of the royal kindredâ by âpremeditated murder,â a âsavage extermination,â and the ââfinal solutionâ for disposing of the MacWilliam kindred altogether.â3 Historians have also positioned the infantâs execution at the terminus of a long period of perceived violent reprisals inflicted on rebels by the crown in a âchronicle of carnage,â a time of unashamedly bloodthirsty and brutal behavior when âthe road to success for the Canmore kings was littered with the corpses of their enemies.â4 Against this analytical framework, the apparent âbetter treatmentâ of rebels such as Fergus of Galloway is seen as âthe exception rather than the rule.â5 This âviolentâ paradigm has also ensured that non-lethal and non-violent responses to rebellion are portrayed negatively by some historians as examples of royal weakness.6 Rather than acts of clemency or kingly magnanimity, punishments taking the form of fines, forfeiture, or submission are often considered the actions of monarchs who lacked the power and authority to deal with treasonous rebels as they supposedly wished, in a violent fashion.7
This âviolentâ paradigm also aligns with the perception of contemporary Scotland portrayed by historians of medieval England. In such analyses, the violent treatment of political enemies stands in stark contrast to a perceived âgolden ageâ in English political society. Here, kings and nobles lived in a quasi-symbiotic relationship that allowed for noble rebellion without fear of violent and bloody retribution visited on the rebelâs body.8 Not until the mid-thirteenth century did this situation begin to change. In contrast to this Anglo-Norman ideal, Scottish violence towards political opponents is portrayed as being aligned more closely to the internecine succession wars of contemporary Wales and Ireland, which were âunquestionably a bloody business for the leading participants.â9 As a result of such analyses, John Gillingham could write with confidence that âit was by killing and mutilating rivals that the line of David [I] secured its hold on the throne of Scotland in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries.â10 This assumption of violent Scottish royal retribution against any who opposed kingly authority presumes, however, that all rebels were deliberately killed and that acts such as the execution of the MacWilliam infant were commonplace. They were not. Rather than the grizzly purveyors of random violence, hands soaked with the blood of those who opposed them, contemporary Scottish monarchs were rather different. In fact, they were more like their European contemporaries than has been recognized. They used violent punishment when it was needed, and when it was justifiable, but this did not necessarily mean death. And they employed a variety of additional non-violent punishments as part of a range of options open to them when dealing with treason.
William Barron has argued that contemporary âconsciousness of the Dark Ages not long past [and] fear of ⦠the return of chaos, made medieval Europe fiercely protective of the established order, and ruthless in punishing any attack upon its authority.â11 This fear of the natural order breaking down is reflected in the language employed by contemporary chroniclers when describing rebellious activities.12 When Somerled of Argyll and his nephews rebelled in 1154, the Holyrood Chronicle (c. 1150 x 1186)13 reported that they and their supporters âScotiam in magne parte peturbantes inquietaueruntâ [disturbed and disquieted Scotland to a great extent].14 William of Newburgh, writing of rebellion against Malcolm IV, wrote that âNon tamen defuere, qui novis motibus intumescentes, vel eum impetendum censerent, vel consueta illi denegarentâ [there were individuals whose anger boiled over into insurrections].15 Further rebellion against Malcolm IV by a group of Scottish earls was described as praesumcio illorum [their presumptuous design].16 The combination of an attack on the kingâs authority and on Godâs chosen secular representative placed rebels beyond the pale and open to violent retribution. It was not, however, a simple outcome of swift punishment inflicted on those accused of treasonous behavior. Scots law as recorded in Regiam Majestatem (fourteenth century, c. after 1318)17 states that those accused of treason in Scotland had recourse to either trial by battle or to an assize by good men of the country.18 Trial by assize appears to have been the recourse of Earl John of Orkney when accused in 1222 of involvement in the death of Bishop Adam of Caithness. Later Scottish chroniclers wrote that he âquamvis suam probaret innocentiam, bonorum virorum testimonio, quod eisdem flagitiosis nullum praestitisset favorem, vel consiliumâ [proved on the testimony of good men that he was innocent and had offered no support or advice to those ruffians].19 Evidence of the use of trial by combat is provided by the Holyrood chroniclerâs brief statement that a certain individual named Arthur, âregem Malcolm proditurus, iii Martii duello periitâ [who was about to betray King Malcolm, perished on 3 March in [trial by] combat].20 Such instances of treason trials appear, however, rarely in written evidence.21
Instead, rebels from this period appear to have fallen largely into two categories. There were those who appear to have been considered manifest rebels whose acts of violence against the kingâs lands and subjects were so obvious as to require no trial. There were also those who, despite rebellious acts, were allowed to re-enter the kingâs peace by means of formal submission or other non-violent punishments.22 Beginning with the first group, it is apparent that the majority of manifest rebels died in battle. Indeed, pitched battle may have acted as an alternative form of trial by combat in circumstances of rebellion and civil strife, with royal victory displaying Godâs judgement and reinforcing the justness of the kingâs cause to any who supported the rebels.23 In some cases it appears, however, that victory was insufficient in itself as a symbol of royal might. In such circumstances, beheading of the defeated rebels appears to have been relatively common. Indeed, Katherine Royer argues that such behavior was as customary in medieval warfare as it was in medieval justice, with the head being used as âa trophy [to be] ⦠sent to the king or displayed in the city as a symbol of military victory.â24 The trophy-like use of the head was a relatively common motif in Anglo-Scottish warfare both before and after the period of this analysis, just as it was also in Anglo-Welsh warfare wherein the taking of heads is said to have had its origins in pre-Christian conflict.25 Around 1006, the casualties of Malcolm IIâs army were beheaded, and âinterfectorum vero capita ⦠fecit Dunelmum transportari eaque a quatuor mulieribus perlota per circuitum murorum in stipitibus praefigiâ [the heads of the slain ⦠[were] conveyed to Durham; and [were] well washed by four women, and set up on stakes around the walls].26 Similarly, in 1039, the defeated forces of Duncan I were put to the sword and their heads hung up on stakes in the market-place.27 In later years, Edward I placed the heads of executed Scottish rebels at various strategic points in northern England and Scotland as a warning to others, while the heads of defeated and captured Scots were also presented to the English king on several occasions.28
Beheadings in the context of Scottish rebellion appear to have been equally common. In 1187, Donald Ban MacWilliam was defeated by a detachment of the royal army. Apparently killed in battle, the troops beheaded the slain MacWilliam âet caput predicti Willelmi abscisum detulerunt secum, et praeÂsentaverunt illud regi Scotiaeâ [and carried [his head] away with them, and presented it to the king of Scotland].29 The later account of Walter Bower emphasizes the trophy-like significance of MacWilliamâs head, writing that it was âad tocius spectaculum exercitus detuleruntâ [to be displayed to the whole army].30 Frederick Suppe argues that the presentation of enemy heads to the king was a common element in Anglo-Welsh warfare from at least the thirteenth century, and that âwhile such acts would certainly be a visible demonstration of success ⦠the fact that two such important symbolic elements as the head and the king were involved suggests that these acts had ceremonial value as well.â31 The kingâs absence from the skirmish at which MacWilliam was killed allowed for this element of presentation of the trophy head. That this ritual took place during a period of civil conflict must have had significant symbolic resonance for any who were ambivalent in their support of the king.32 Further examples of the head as trophy are provided from comparable instances of rebellion. The death of Somerled of Argyll at Renfrew in 1164 was followed by his decapitation and the presentation of his head to the bishop of Glasgow.33 And, subsequent to the murder of Bishop Adam of Caithness in 1222, Earl John of Orkney was forced to submit to the king and promise to avenge the death of the cleric. This involved an undertaking to âet eorum omnium capita, qui dicto sceleri interfuerunt, detruncata ad pedes regis infra sex menses deportaretâ [bring to the kingâs feet within six months the cut-off heads of all those who had taken part in the said crime].34 The duty of upholding the kingâs law and insuring that justice was served for the bishopâs murder by producing the heads of the guilty was therefore presented to the earl as part of the terms of his submission, reinforcing his own allegiance to the crown as well as visually displaying the force of royal justice.
Such an open display of royal might is reminiscent of the idea of the public execution of traitorous individuals; however, these examples are relatively rare in contemporary Scotland and there are only two executions which stand out. In 1211â2, Guthred MacWilliam launched a rebellion in northern Scotland. Captured during the campaign, Guthred was handed over to the earl of Buchan, the Scottish justiciar. In his fifteenth-century Scotichronicon (c. 1441 x 1449), Walter Bower writes that Buchan wished to bring Guthred before the king alive and set out to meet William the Lion.35 On his way, however, Buchan received word from the king âquod nollet eum vivum videre, cum et ipse Gothredus iam pene defecisset quia postquam captus fuerat refici victu renui, decollatum et tractum per pedes suspenderuntâ [that he did not want to see him alive, [and so] they beheaded Guthred, dragged him along by the feet and hung him up].36 Bower also writes that Guthred rejected food after his capture, and if this was simply another means of saying that he was starved by his captors, then it is possible that Guthred MacWilliamâs execution is an example of the traitor suffering from multiple deaths. The combination of starvation, beheading, drawing the body, and hanging it up for public display appears to reflect the idea that those who had committed treason against the king deserved execution in more than one form to reflect the enormity of their crime.37 The physical action of hanging up Guthredâs body is similar to the exhibition of the severed head.38 As Royer argues, such treatment â[made] the point that this was not the honorable death of a defeated warrior. The rituals of inversion that characterized these events advertised the condemnedâs dishonor, for the king had been personally offended and his honor restored through the ritual.â39 King Williamâs dismissal of Guthred MacWilliam, denying him audience and therefore removing any possibility of appealing to the kingâs mercy, is a potent display of royal might that possibly contains an element of royal vengeance against the MacWilliamsâ continued rebellion. Ecclesiastical writers were careful in their judgement of lordly retributive action, drawing a clear dividing line between just action and unjust reaction. As Daniel Baraz points out, âviolence was justified, with qualifications, as self-defense. ⦠The extent of this violence, however, was limited; excessive violenceâeven in self-defense or in the application of the lawâceased to be legitimate.â40
The most (in)famous manifestation of such royal vengeance appears evident in the murder of the female MacWilliam infant in c. 1230 at Forfar market cross. One of the few occasions when the crown had physical possession of a member of this continuously rebellious family, Alexander II appears not to have missed the opportunity to make his point. The execution provided a very obvious demarcation in the sand, ending once and for all the line of the MacWilliams in a very public ceremony, demonstrating the death of both the family itself and of any further opposing claims to the Scottish kingship.41 Therefore, the public spectacle of the infantâs execution had less to do with the death of the child herself and much more to do with the final removal of the MacWilliams from the Scottish political landscape.42 However, there are issues with the construction of events presented by the Lanercost chronicler. Firstly, he is the only writer to describe the event. The chronicleâs supposed author, Richard of Durham, appears to have had first-hand knowledge and experience with Scotland and its affairs, and personally knew notable Scottish figures including Devorguilla Balliol. This suggests an element of Scottish provenance for the Lanercost Chronicle. 43 He also appears to have utilized Scottish sources (including, perhaps, now-lost examples) to inform his account.44 In spite of this, his work is increasingly strident in its denunciation of the Scots, a fact based most likely on his own experiences of war in the early stages of Anglo-Scottish conflict that erupted from the 1290s.45 As such, it is problematic that the only source of the execution is an English one. The account itself is unsurprisingly moralistic in tone, with the final comment that âsons shall not be slain for their fathersâ passing judgment on the inappropriateness of this course of action. For all its moralism such a statement is, however, not necessarily correct. Thirteenth-century legal discussions did envisage the possibility of executing the heirs of convicted traitors as the ultimate expression of familial forfeiture by removing any future claimants to escheated lands.46 The sins of the father were, therefore, legally justifiable reasons for the execution of their heirs even if religious chroniclers were perhaps more ambivalent about such practice.
Another issue with the representation of events is the lack of the kingâs presence in the description of the execution. Although Alexander II may indeed have wished to distance himself from such an event that was morally, if not necessarily legally, problematic, the public display of traitorsâ severed heads suggests an intimate connection between such a spectacle and the kingâs majesty. Andrew McDonald suggests that the choice of Forfar as the site of execution was a deliberately symbolic one by the king. He argues that this location drew a conscious parallel with the defeat and death a century before of Angus of Moray, one of the earliest rebels against the Canmore dynasty and the progenitor of the MacWilliams, at nearby Stracathro. Therefore, according to McDonald, the beginning and the end of rebellion against the Canmore dynasty occurred in close proximity. This argument presupposes, however, that the various rebellions of those who opposed the Canmore dynasty were all linked, and, further, that they were viewed in such a way by Alexander II. That is a difficult argument to make. Forfar is said to have been âa favorite haunt of the thirteenth-century kings of Scotsâ and Alexander II himself celebrated Christmas there.47 The king would use the burgh in the 1240s as the site of his court, and the location at which he made a judgement in a feud between the Comyn and Bisset families.48 As such, it appears to have been a site of quite regular royal business, and so a logical location for this type of public royal statement of victory.
Still, the absence of the Scottish king in the chronicle narrative is puzzling. This was, after all, an English chronicler describing events in Scotland during a period when tensions between the two kingdoms were high. For him not to place Alexander II at the event appears to miss an opportunity to link him directly to a punishment the chronicler himself saw as excessive. It does appear possible that in relating this story, the Lanercost chronicler was attempting to emphasize the continued barbarity of the kingdom to the north. Lingering antipathy towards the Scots was a consequence of Alexander IIâs support of Prince Louis, the Dauphin of France, in his invasion of England to supplant King John in 1215â17, and the papal censure that followed. Indeed, the ecclesiastical punishments of excommunication and interdict were part of a wider strategy employed by Henry IIIâs supporters to depict the Scots as âpublic enemies of Christendom at war with both the Pope and God.â49 The English and the papacy combined to decry the Scots as âworse than Saracensâ for disturbing the peace of England.50 It was during the 1230s, around the time that this execution took place, that Henry III renewed English claims to overlordship over Scotland and Alexander II counter-claimed lordship over Northern England. And when the chronicle was being written up, both kingdoms were once again divided by English claims to overlordship over Scotland. In this politically aggressive environment, therefore, an account of Scottish barbarity potentially reflects the propagandist depictions of the âOtherâ common at the time. The specific image of the barbarous Scots murdering a child may already have been a common enough motif in English narrative. Ailred of Rievaulx, in his account of the Scottish campaign that led to the Battle of the Standard in 1138, specifically describes the misbehavior of the men of Galloway. Entering a house and finding several children there, âstabat Galwensis, et unum post unum utroque pede arripiens, caput allidebat ad postemâ [a Galwegian stood, and seizing one after the other by both feet struck their heads against the doorpost].51
While not directly suggesting that the execution of the MacWilliam heiress did not occur, the motif of a child having its brain bashed appears elsewhere in northern English sources when describing Scottish actions.52 Ailred of Rievaulxâs account seems to have been a source for the Lanercost Chronicle. Some of Ailredâs other descriptions of violent and barbarous Scottish behavior on the 1138 campaign equally appear to have developed into motifs that reappear in the Lanercost Chronicleâs later reports of Scottish raiding in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries.53 Further, the account of Malcolm IIIâs invasion of Northern England in 1070 by Symeon of Durham contains similar imagery.54 Gillingham points out that, although describing earlier events, this account was actually written in the later twelfth century in Northern England, suggesting that the image of the brutal Scot had taken hold in the northern English imagination.55 Such images of an enemy killing children were not new. At their greatest extent, they refer to the Bible. For example, Psalm 137 includes a âcurse-wishâ against the Babylonians, stating âHow blessed will be the one who seizes and dashes your little ones against the rock.â56 There is also the story of Herod and the massacre of the innocents, made popular in medieval art and theatre.57 Gillingham argues that William of Malmesbury was the first to write consistently about the âbarbarian otherâ in reference to the Scots, and of their âdelight ⦠to slaughter little children.â58 The depiction of such people, and in particular the cruelty they inflicted on the innocent, was part of a wider contemporary discourse where âthe various categories of cruelty are used with an eye toward the desired rhetorical and propagandist effect rather than toward what fits best the actual circumstances and events.â59 The tale of the MacWilliam infantâs execution may well have formed part of this discourse, portraying the Scots as well as Scottish âjusticeâ in a derogatory light at a time when invective against the Scots was reaching something of a peak.
While there are several violent examples of royal punishment, other penalties were also employed to deal with rebellious vassals. Mutilation was a less severe alternative to capital punishment.60 Such punishments were not intended to be lethal. Instead, judicial mutilation was often intended as a visible display of an individualâs disgrace, their imposed disability or disfigurement acting as a public declaration of their crime.61 Such punishments included putting out eyes, castration, removal of the tongue, and amputation of the hands or feet.62 These punishments are particularly interesting because they seem to have largely fallen out of use in Scotland around the mid-thirteenth century. Scottish examples of mutilation include that of King Donald Ban who, following his capture by King Edgar in 1097, was apparently blinded.63 Another example concerns the fate of Thorfinn Haraldson, who was castrated and had his eyes put out while in royal custody in c. 1201â2.64 He died at some point thereafter. Thorfinn was the rebellious son of the recalcitrant earl of Orkney and Caithness, Harald Maddadson. Following more than one royal campaign in the north to bring both father and son to heel, Thorfinn was surrendered into King Williamâs possession as a hostage for Earl Haraldâs future good behavior. Thorfinn, though imprisoned, was not ill-treated while his father remained in the kingâs peace. It was, however, Earl Haraldâs continued actions to undo the various royal attempts at pacifying the far north of Scotland, culminating in the mutilation of Bishop John of Caithness, which appears to have pushed the king into taking reparative action against the earlâs son. Thorfinnâs position as a hostage for his fatherâs good behavior placed him at the kingâs mercy. Considering Earl Haraldâs subsequent rebellion, the king was justified and acted legitimately in punishing Thorfinn as he did.65
The act of castration, in particular, reinvigorated the kingâs honor and status in opposition to his enemyâs physical and political emasculation and was âan appropriate form of royal revenge.â66 Alexander II may have employed dismemberment in similar fashion when dealing with the murderers of Bishop Adam of Caithness in 1222. Although the English Dunstable annalist wrote that Earl John of Orkney was ordered to collect the heads of those responsible, a Norse account describes eighty men having their hands and feet cut off.67 Disfigurement was also used in the aftermath of the rebellion of Bishop Wimund during the reign of David I. William of Newburgh wrote that some of Wimundâs followers, in collusion with certain nobles:
comprehensum vinxerunt, utrumque illi oculum, quia uterque nequam erat, eruerunt, causamque virulenti germinis amputantes, eum pro pace regni Scottorum, non propter regnum coelorum, castraverunt.
[seized and bound him, and gouged out both his eyes because both were depraved; then they cut off the source of his poisonous seed, and made him a eunuch for the peace of the Scottish kingdom rather than for the kingdom of heaven].68
While Newburghâs account demonstrates disapproval of Wimundâs rebellion, he also appears to have been somewhat dismayed at his punishment. Blinding appears less of an issue than Wimundâs castration. The comment that this action was âfor the peace of the Scottish kingdomâ likely relates to the removal of Wimundâs ability to produce heirs to further continue his claim to the throne.69 This, coupled with his exile to a monastery, negated Wimund as a threat. However, Newburgh does imply that the mutilation employed in this instance was against Godâs will. This is perhaps because Wimund was, or had been, a cleric. In spite of this apparent sympathy, Wimund remains the villain of Newburghâs narrative, spending his last days at Byland Abbey and muttering empty threats of revenge against those who caused his downfall. These examples all represent the manifestation of kingly vengeance exacted against those who had incurred his anger. They do, however, also appear to have been justified, and justifiable, in light of the perceived crimes of the punished. More than this, they were non-lethal punishments exacted for quite extreme examples of rebellion. The kingsâ responses demonstrate that they were not the actions of excessively violent monarchs exacting revenge on all those who refused to obey the crown. They were instead the just actions of a monarchy that was increasingly confident of its position within the kingdom, that was able to utilize particular punishments in relation to specific crimes.
Other, non-violent, forms of punishment also remained available to Scottish monarchs who sought to reprimand those who rebelled against royal authority. Indeed, non-violent punishments were at least as common as examples of execution or dismemberment. Imprisonment was one such sentence for those who challenged the kingâs position. An early example involves Prince Edmund, son of Malcolm III, who sided with his uncle Donald Ban in his successful rebellion against King Duncan II in 1094. William of Malmesburyâs account describes Edmund being captured following his uncleâs fall from power, imprisoned, and kept in chains for the rest of his life.70 Donald Ban himself, following his own overthrow, was imprisoned after being blinded.71 It has been suggested that long-term captivity was the only real punishment available to successive kings when they were dealing with members of the extended royal familia.72 Long-term imprisonment was not, however, simply handed out to rebel pretenders to the throne. One of the longest periods of imprisonment endured by any one individual was that of Thomas of Galloway. Following his defeated insurrection in 1235â6, Thomas was imprisoned first in Edinburgh Castle and then Barnard Castle for sixty-one years.73 Captivity of shorter duration was also meted out to individuals such as Malcolm, son of Alexander, in 1134, who participated in the rebellion of Angus of Moray in 1130, and to Malcolmâs son Donald around 1153. Both men were held in Roxburgh Castle, although the length of eitherâs captivity is unknown.74 That imprisonment was not always a permanent punishment is emphasized by the case of Thomas Coleville who, in 1210, was imprisoned in Edinburgh Castle for rebellion against the crown.75 However, Thomas was able to purchase his release from captivity soon after in return for a ransom and appears to have lived out the rest of his life free from further punishment.76 Earl Harald of Orkney suffered a similarly short period of imprisonment after his rebellion in c. 1197.77 Forcibly retiring rebellious individuals to the confines of a monastery was another available form of incarceration. This was the fate of Fergus of Galloway, who saw out the remainder of his life at Holyrood Abbey, and Bishop Wimund, who lived out his latter days at Byland Abbey after his emasculation.78
A relative lack of administrative documentation has largely denied Scottish historians the opportunity of fully examining the extent to which forfeitures and fines were employed as a means of punishing those who led or supported rebellion against the Scottish crown.79 However, one or two examples do exist, suggesting that such penalties were indeed part of the royal repertoire of punishments imposed on rebels and traitors.80 A now-lost rollârecorded amongst a collection of documents in Edinburgh Castle in 1292âapparently listed the forfeitures of those who supported MacWilliam uprisings against William I and Alexander II.81 A more detailed example relates to the MacWilliam revolt of 1187 when the castle of Auldearn was captured by MacWilliam forces after Gillecolm, the castellan, surrendered it. Gillecolm had his lands of Madderty (Perthshire) forfeited âsicut ille qui in felonia reddidit castellum meum de Heryn et postea sicut iniquus et proditor iuit ad inimicos meos mortals et cum eis stetit contra meâ [on account of his felony, inasmuch as he yielded the kingâs castle ⦠treacherously and then went over to the kingâs enemies as a wicked traitor and stood with them against the king to do him as much harm as he could].82 In another case, the kingâs retribution for the murder of Bishop Adam of Orkney in 1222 appears to have included family forfeitures, with the men killed, their sons castrated, and their wives âthrown outâ of their holdings.83 In a further example, Alexander II marched with a royal army into Argyll in 1221â2:
Timentes autem Erthgalenses, quidam datis obsidibus et multa pecunia in pace sunt recepti. Alii quidem, qui amplius regis animum offenderant, relictis praediis et possessionibus fugerunt.
[The men of Argyll were frightened: some gave hostages and a great deal of money, and were taken back in peace; while others, who had more deeply offended against the kingâs will, forsook their estates and possessions, and fled].84
This example demonstrates quite succinctly the range of nonâviolent punishments available to the king. Forfeiture in this case appears to have been imposed in absentia, the landholders having gone into enforced exile upon the arrival of the kingâs forces. It also emphasizes that violent punishment was not always required, although the apparent fear of those âwho had more deeply offended the kingâs willâ in forsaking their lands and fleeing Argyll suggests that perhaps they expected more than just fine and forfeiture as a result of their actions.
This is apparent in arguably more complex examples than that of Harald Maddadson, particularly in several cases relating to the lords of Galloway. In 1160, Malcolm IV intervened directly in the lordship, summoning a royal army and harrying Fergus of Gallowayâs territories. Such decisive military action and the display of royal military might played a large part in forcing Fergus to seek the kingâs peace. His submission included the surrender of his son, Uhtred, into the kingâs possession. Fergus himself was forced to retire to a monastery.92 Submission by Fergusâ son, Gilbert, following his own rebellion and the killing of his brother Uhtred in 1175 followed a similar pattern, although in this case, submission was required to both William the Lion and Henry II of England. Submission to the Scottish king was facilitated by the intercession of notable persons, and the rebel lord of Galloway gave hostages as symbols of his compliance. He also appears to have paid a monetary fine as part of his submission.93 Submission to Henry II was facilitated by King William who brought Gilbert into the English kingâs presence, where he paid homage, a fine of 1,000 marks of silver, and gave his son Donnchad as hostage for his good behavior.94 The submission of Roland of Galloway to Henry II after he fought with Gilbertâs sons over the lordship occurred similarly, with William the Lion again interceding to ensure that Roland was allowed to submit to the English kingâs peace in 1186.95 Submission was, then, a well-recognized and well-used means of repairing the breach between king and vassal. It was, moreover, a preferred means of ending internecine violence and of restoring order to the kingdom. This was recognized by kings of Scots just as much as it was by their contemporaries, and these examples demonstrate that the kings of England dealt with comparable situations in a very similar way.
The final acts of Galwegian rebellion in 1235â6, in support of Thomas of Galloway, illustrate the developing nature of the ritual of submission, offering a cautionary note that it did not always end in forgiveness. Defeated in battle by the forces of Alexander II, Thomas of Galloway fled to Ireland before returning once more to Scotland. On his return, he was met by the bishop of Galloway, the abbot of Melrose, and the earl of Dunbar who sought to intercede on his behalf and bring him before the king to seek royal pardon for his rebellion.96 Unlike previous examples in which rebels who submitted were reconciled with the king, Thomas of Galloway was instead imprisoned in Edinburgh Castle before being moved to commence his sixty-year captivity in Barnard Castle. His followers were also treated differently. The Melrose chronicler writes that, following the defeat of the Galwegian forces by the royal army, âsolita utens Âpietate, pacem ad se omnibus venientibus tribuit, Galweienses igitur qui remanserant, funibus in collo missis, ad regis pacem conveneruntâ [acting upon his accustomed humanity, [Alexander II] extended his peace to as many as came to him; and so the surviving Galwegians, with ropes round their necks, accepted his offer].97 This powerfully symbolic submission, with the Galwegians presenting themselves and their lives as forfeit to the king before being benevolently forgiven by a just monarch, was a potent demonstration of royal justice and of royal victory. Interestingly, the English chronicler Matthew Paris, writing of the same battleâs aftermath, comments that:
Illos vero quos rex vel eius commilitones vivos apprehendit, sine redemptione ignominiosa morte punivit. Venientes autem ad suam misericordiam, vinculis et arctae custodias, donec deliberatum foret judicio quid de ipsis fieret, mancipavit; omnes autem cum sua posteritate non sine ratione exhaeredavit.
[those whom the king or his supporters took alive, he punished without ransom by an ignominious death. But those who threw themselves upon his mercy he gave up to chains and strict imprisonment until it should be discussed in court what should be done with them; but all, not without reason, he disinherited with their posterity].98
Paris prefaces this account, however, with an account of the âbarbarous customsâ of the Galwegiansâincluding the ritual drinking of bloodâand places these actions within the context of royal justice, the king having been âprovokedâ into taking such action by their misdemeanors. Although these accounts present somewhat different portrayals of the same events, they both emphasize the right of the king to take retributive action against his rebellious subjects. While the Melrose account is more positive about Alexander IIâs actions, even Paris recognizes that the king was within his rights to disinherit the rebels. Moreover, his emphasis that punishment against those who surrendered would be decided at court provides a useful example of due process and of involving the Scottish political community in giving a final judgement. This was not simply the vengeful action of a tyrannical monarch. This was a Scottish king behaving as he should, and recognized as such by an English chronicler.
Discussing the perceived violent nature of warfare in the second decade of the thirteenth century, the chronicler of Melrose Abbey writes that:
Rex autem Gallie, terram regis Anglie in transmarinis partibus sibi sujugando, non modicum sanguinem effudit. Consimilem autem stragem rex Anglie, terram Hybernie et Wales sibi subjugando, perpetravit. Sed et rex Scotie filium Macwillelmi, Guthred scilicet, persequendo, propriosque seductores destruendo, multorum cadavera inanimata reliquit.
[The king of France shed no small quantity of human blood in reducing to his own power the land belonging to the king of England which was situated on the continent. The like slaughter was perpetrated by the king of England in conquering the land of Ireland and Wales. Then the king of Scotland, while he was following up Guthred, the son of MacWilliam, and destroying those persons who had led him astray, left his path strewn with many dead bodies].99
The chronicler presents a clear picture of a violent period when contemporary kings dealt death to those who stood against them. He does not, however, differentiate between the behavior of contemporary monarchs and, indeed, seems to draw parallels between the actions of the kings of Scotland, England, and France. It is unsurprising that he should find fault in the behavior of these kings who dealt violently with those who opposed them, considering his status as a monastic chronicler. It is unclear, however, whether this comment was a sign of religious displeasure at ongoing violence, or if this comment was evoked by the realization that the early decades of the thirteenth century involved a new and more vicious form of retributive violence against perceived rebels. In a Scottish context, historians appear to have assumed the former, perceiving in the behavior of Scottish kings an almost continuous campaign of vengeful attacks on traitorous individuals. McDonald, in particular, develops this idea in his portrayal of the murder of the MacWilliam infant as the end of a narrative arc of rebellion and violent royal repression that had begun at least as early as Angus of Morayâs revolt in 1130. Men like Bishop Wimund and the MacWilliams, he argues, were treated harshly either because they claimed the throne, or because of the cumulative effect that their rebellions had on increasing the extent of retributive violence against them.100
The presumption in McDonaldâs argument is that violent punishment of rebels against royal authority was the norm, therefore provoking a need to explain the perceived âbetter treatmentâ of some erstwhile rebels. Reconsideration of the examples from this period suggests, however, that violent repercussions as deliberate punishment for rebellion were not the norm and that, while receiving various forms of punishment, the majority of those who confronted the Scottish crown escaped punishment of life and limb. Like contemporary England, no Scottish earls were executed during this period by the Scottish crown. The best example of this is the case of Earl Harald Madaddson of Orkney. In spite of his continued insurrections against the Scottish crownâs attempts at controlling northern Scotland, Earl Harald escaped with little more than the temporary loss of territory and a large fine of £2000.101 Although Haraldâs son Thorfinn does appear to have paid the price for his fatherâs indiscretions, his mutilation was in accordance with acceptable behavior. Thorfinn was surrendered as a hostage and was surety for his fatherâs good conduct. His life was in the kingâs hands, and King William exacted just punishment on Thorfinn for Earl Haraldâs continued dissent.102
For those outside the elite, a more callous conduct towards the lower-born was a standard part of contemporary medieval life as demonstrated, for example, in the treatment of common infantry on the battlefield.103 As such, McDonald may be partially correct in seeing the treatment of the MacWilliams as different. They were not earls, nor were they of the higher nobility. They did claim royal descent, but as royal pretenders, the MacWilliamsâ claim was for nothing less than the crown itself, and, additionally, this ensured a different attitude towards them by the crown. If they had chosen to display it, loyal service to the crown may have resulted in territorial and titular rewards, but this approach does not appear to have been one open to, or attempted by, the MacWilliam claimants. Moreover, in spite of their apparent support at various times within Scotland, they may have lacked appropriate noble backing. Following contemporary English example, such political support may have afforded them the opportunity to negotiate their way back into acceptance within the wider Scottish political community.104 The formal acts of submission by men such as Harald Maddadson and Thomas of Galloway demonstrate the importance of noble intercession in resolving a conflict. That the MacWilliams lacked such support is suggested by the absence of any record of submission by any of the MacWilliam rebels. If they lacked recourse to noble support on their behalf, and if they recognized their lack of options in relation to the Scottish crown, then this may well explain why they rose incessantly in rebellion and why they met their end on the various battlefields of twelfth- and thirteenth-century Scotland. For the MacWilliams, it was the crown or death. They had made their play, and nothing short of outright defeat or victory were to be the result.
Medieval Scotland was a violent place, and the Melrose chronicler may have been correct in perceiving a change in the tenor of political violence in the thirteenth century. This is the apparent situation in England at this time, where increasingly violent forms of royal justice were demonstrated in the execution of William Marsh in 1242, and the slaughter of rebel barons at Evesham in 1265.105 Historians acknowledge that the long period when nobles could rebel against the crown, safe in the knowledge that this was a normal part of the crown-magnate relationship, and, therefore, free of punishment of their bodies, was over.106 In Scotland, a similar process may have been occurring, particularly during the reign of Alexander II.107 There are several specific cases of unreserved violence perpetrated by Alexander II, culminating in the murder of the MacWilliam heiress. Indeed, Alexander IIâs violent nature may have been recognized by Scottish historians as early as the fifteenth century. Bower, describing the situation in Galloway following the defeat of Thomas of Galloway in 1236, wrote that Alexander II âbenigne rex admisit in pacem suam, quia etsi, ut prediximus, justiciam suam semper exercuit, rigorem tamen suum misericordia interdum temperavitâ [was kind enough to admit [the Galwegians] to his peace because although ⦠he was always just in his actions, he nonetheless tempered his severity with mercy from time to time].108 Although a king should indeed be severe in his treatment of those who rebelled against his authority, the just king should also exercise mercy. Bowerâs ambivalent comment suggests that, although Alexander II may have shown mercy to the Galwegian rebels on this occasion, other rebels on different occasions were not so lucky.109 The carrot and the stick could, and indeed should, be used by a monarch as and when the situation demanded. That Alexander II showed himself capable of dealing with political enemies through both means demonstrated his abilities as a ruler to his subjects, while emphasizing that violent repercussion could apply if the king so desired.
Alexander II may also have been particularly conscious of potential challenges to his authority. The instances of rebellion he faced during his reign were successors of the uprising that occurred upon his coronation. Indeed, Broun argues that the kingâs inauguration was held in acute haste in response to yet further MacWilliam insurrection and the very real possibility of a challenge to Alexander IIâs fledgling kingship.110 In such circumstances, it is perhaps unsurprising that the king may have tended towards a more violent policy when rebels came into his hands. The MacWilliams, more than most, may have been targeted as a result. But even if it is accepted that royal treatment of rebels became more violent during his reign, it was a change that occurred only after a long period when it was not. It was also a change in policy that did not long outlast Alexander II. Although later Scottish kings increasingly standardized the punishments they imposed on their enemies, their actions were far-removed from the increasingly violent and vengeful actions of fourteenth- and fifteenth-century English kings.111 During the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, and contrary to accepted opinion, the victory of successive Canmore monarchs over their opponents was not simply âachieved by blunt force and military might, and ⦠through mercilessly crushing rivals and liquidating adversaries.â112 It was achieved by using different means to accomplish different ends. Although violent retribution was one recourse, it was often a final resort rather than a principal weapon. Alternatives, such as imprisonment, fines, and the formal ritual of submission, were all available and were all used more often than the ultimate sanction. Like their contemporaries, Scottish kings were simply not able to slaughter all those who challenged them. The political community would not allow it. As Royer argues, âmercy and mitigation were as important to the keeping of the peace as the terrifying power of the scaffold.â113 Sparing the rod was no sign of weakness, but the behavior of a just monarch. Twelfth- and thirteenth-century kings of Scots realized this, as did their nobles. For those rebels who chose to meet the kingâs forces on the field of battle, their fate rested in Godâs hands. For the majority of those who rebelled, return to the kingâs peace was an attainable and honorable outcome. In the use of formal acts of submission, the public demonstration of the kingâs mercy created an image of spectacular peace-making that stood in stark contrast to the grisly and lesser-used display of spectacular justice.
For discussion of the dating of this work, see: Antonia Gransden, Historical Writing in England I, c. 500âc. 1297 (London: Routledge, 1996), 432â438; Andrew G. Little, âThe Authorship of the Lanercost Chronicle,â English Historical Review 31.122 (1916): 269â279. See also: Chronicon de Lanercost, ed. Joseph Stevenson (Edinburgh: Bannatyne Club, 1839), iâxxi; James Wilson, âAuthorship of the Chronicle of Lanercost,â in The Chronicle of Lanercost, 1272â1346, ed. Herbert Maxwell, ixâxxxi (Glasgow: James Maclehose and Sons, 1913).
Chron. Lanercost, ed. Stevenson, 41; Early Sources of Scottish History, ad 500â1286, ed. Alan O. Anderson, 2 vols. [hereafter ESSH] (Edinburgh: Oliver and Boyd, 1922), 2:471.
Alasdair D. Ross, âMoray, Ulster, and the MacWilliams,â in The World of the Galloglass: Kings, Warlords and Warriors in Ireland and Scotland, 1200â1600, ed. Sean Duffy, 24â44 (Dublin: Four Courts, 2007), 41; Geoffrey W.S. Barrow, âMacBeth and Other Mormaers of Moray,â in The Hub of the Highlands: The Book of Inverness and District, ed. Loraine Maclean, 109â122 (Edinburgh: Inverness Field Club, 1975), 122. See also: Richard D. Oram, âIntroduction: An Overview of the Reign of Alexander II,â in The Reign of Alexander II, 1214â49, ed. Richard D. Oram, 1â48 (Leiden: Brill, 2005), 41.
Edward J. Cowan, âThe Historical Macbeth,â in Moray: Province and People, ed. W. David H. Sellar, 117â141 (Edinburgh: Scottish Society for Northern Studies, 1993), 134â135; R. Andrew McDonald, Outlaws of Medieval Scotland: Challenges to the Canmore Kings, 1058â1266 (East Linton: Tuckwell Press, 2003), 140, 172. See also: Sean McGlynn, By Sword and Fire: Cruelty and Atrocity in Medieval Warfare (London: Weidenfeld & Nicolson, 2008), 5; Cynthia J. Neville, âThe Beginnings of Royal Pardon in Scotland,â Journal of Medieval History 42.5 (2016): 559â587 at 565.
See, for example: McDonald, Outlaws of Medieval Scotland, 82, 92, 100, 102. It has also been argued that kings had to balance their displays of magnanimity and violence to avoid contemporary perceptions of weakness by their subjects. See: Matthew Strickland, War and Chivalry: The Conduct and Perception of War in England and Normandy, 1066â1217 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996), 248â251; Kate McGrath, âThe Politics of Chivalry: The Function of Anger and Shame in Eleventhâ and TwelfthâCentury AngloâNorman Historical Narratives,â in Feud, Violence and Practice: Essays in Medieval Studies in Honor of Stephen D. White, ed. Belle S. Tuten and Tracey L. Billado, 55â69 (Farnham: Ashgate, 2010), 68â69. For a recent alternative to this view, see: Neville, âRoyal Pardon in Scotland,â 567â569.
McDonald, Outlaws of Medieval Scotland, 100â102; R. Andrew McDonald, ââSoldiers Most Unfortunateâ: Gaelic and ScotoâNorse Opponents of the Canmore Dynasty, c.1100âc.1230,â in History, Literature, and Music in Scotland, 700â1560, ed. R. Andrew McDonald, 93â119 (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2002), 110; John Gillingham, âKilling and Mutilating Political Enemies in the British Isles from the Late Twelfth to the Early Fourteenth Century: A Comparative Study,â in Britain and Ireland, 900â1300: Insular Responses to Medieval European Change, ed. Brendan Smith, 114â134 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999), 121. For alternative views of Scottish royal treatment of rebels and traitors, see: Cynthia J. Neville, âRoyal Mercy in Later Medieval Scotland,â Florilegium 29 (2012): 1â31; Neville, âRoyal Pardon in Scotland,â Journal of Medieval History 42.5 (2016): 559â587.
Danielle Westerhof, Death and the Noble Body in Medieval England (Woodbridge: Boydell Press, 2008), 117â120; John Gillingham, âConquering the Barbarians: War and Chivalry in Britain and Ireland,â in The English in the Twelfth Century: Imperialism, National Identity and Political Values, 41â58 (Woodbridge: Boydell Press, 2000), 57; John Gillingham, â1066 and the Introduction of Chivalry into England,â in The English in the Twelfth Century, 209â231 at 222; Gillingham, âKilling and Mutilating,â 119.
John Gillingham, âThe Beginnings of English Imperialism,â in The English in the Twelfth Century, 3â18 at 15; McDonald, Outlaws of Medieval Scotland, 139; Gillingham, âKilling and Mutilating,â 124.
Gillingham, âConquering the Barbarians,â 54â55; see also: Gillingham, âKilling and Mutilating,â 114â115.
William R.J. Barron, âThe Penalties for Treason in Medieval Life and Literature,â Journal of Medieval History 7 (1981): 187â202 at 198.
R. Andrew McDonald, The Kingdom of the Isles: Scotlandâs Western Seaboard, c. 1100âc. 1336 (East Linton: Tuckwell Press, 1997), 40â41.
For discussion of the dating of this chronicle, see: A Scottish Chronicle known as the Chronicle of Holyrood, ed. Marjorie O. Anderson (Edinburgh: Scottish History Society, 1938), 1â51; Antonia Gransden, Historical Writing in England, II: c. 1307 to the Early Sixteenth Century (London: Routledge, 1996), 82 n. 147.
Chronicon Coenobii Sanctae Crucis Edinburgensis, ed. Robert Pitcairn (Edinburgh: Bannatyne Club, 1828), 31; Chron. Holyrood, 187. See also: Johannis de Fordun, Cronica Gentis Scotorum, ed. William F. Skene, 3 vols. (Edinburgh: Edmonston and Douglas, 1871â2), 2:249â250; Walter Bower, Scotichronicon, ed. Donald E.R. Watt et al., 9 vols. (Aberdeen: Aberdeen University Press, 1987â98), 4:253; Alasdair Ross, âThe Identity of the âPrisoner of Roxburghâ: Malcolm son of Alexander or Malcolm MacHeth?,â in Fil súil nglasi A Grey Eye Looks Back: A Festschrift in honour of Colm à Baoill, ed. Sharon Arbuthnott and Kaarina Hollo, 269â282 (Ceann Drochaid: Clann Tuirc, 2007), 280.
Chronicles of the Reigns of Stephen, Henry II, and Richard I, Vol. I, ed. Richard Howlett (London: Rolls Series, 1884), 77; William of Newburgh, The History of English Affairs, Book I, ed. Patrick G. Walsh and M.J. Kennedy (Warminster: Aris & Phillips, 1988), 109.
Chronica de Mailros, ed. Joseph Stevenson (Edinburgh: Bannatyne Club, 1835), 77; Mediaeval Chronicles of Scotland: The Chronicle of Melrose (from 1136 to 1264) and the Chronicle of Holyrood (to 1163), ed. Joseph Stephenson (Dyfed: Llanerch Enterprises, 1988), 11â12.
Alice Taylor, âThe Assizes of David I, King of Scots, 1124â53,â Scottish Historical Review 91.2 (2012): 197â238.
The Acts of the Parliament of Scotland, ed. Thomas Thomson and Cosmo Innes, 12 vols. (Edinburgh, 1814â75), 1:632; David M. Walker, A Legal History of Scotland: Volume I The Beginnings to ad 1286 (Edinburgh: W. Green & Son Ltd., 1988), 287â288.
Chronica Gentis Scotorum, 1:289; John of Fordunâs Chronicle of the Scottish Nation, ed. William F. Skene, 2 vols. (Edinburgh: Edmiston and Douglas, 1872), 2:284â285; see also: Chron. Bower, 5:113â115.
For a discussion on reconciliation rather than punishment for treason in late-medieval Castile, see in this volume: Sam Claussen, âRoyal Punishment and Reconciliation in Trastámara Castile.â
Maurice H. Keen, The Laws of War in the Late Middle Ages (London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1965), 92.
Katherine Royer, âThe Body in Parts: Reading the Execution Ritual in Late Medieval England,â Historical Reflections 29 (2003): 319â339 at 324. For further consideration of the severed head as trophy, see several essays in Heads Will Roll: Decapitation in the Medieval and Early Modern Imagination, ed. Larissa Tracy and Jeff Massey (Leiden: Brill, 2012).
Frederick Suppe, âThe Cultural Significance of Decapitation in High Medieval Wales and the Marches,â Bulletin of the Board of Celtic Studies 36 (1989): 147â160 at 149; Strickland, War and Chivalry, 307.
Symeon of Durham, âDe Obsessione Dunelmi,â in Symeonis Dunelmensis Opera et Collectanea, ed. John HodgsonâHind (Durham: Surtees Society, 1868), 1:155; Scottish Annals from English Chroniclers, ad 500â1286 [hereafter SAEC], ed. Alan O. Anderson (London: D. Nutt, 1908), 80.
Matthew Strickland, âA Law of Arms or a Law of Treason? Conduct in Edward Iâs Campaigns in Scotland, 1296â1307,â in Violence in Medieval Society, ed. Richard W. Kaeuper, 39â78 (Woodbridge: Boydell Press, 2000), 52â54; Michael Prestwich, âTranscultural Warfareâthe Later Middle Ages,â in Transcultural Wars from the Middle Ages to the Twenty-First Century, ed. Hans-Henning Kort, 43â56 (Berlin: Academie Verlag, 2006), 48.
Gesta Regis Henrici Secundi Benedicti Abbatis, ed. William Stubbs, (London: Rolls Series, 1867), 2:8; SAEC, 295. See also: Chron. Melrose, 25; Chron. Holyrood, 193; and Chron. Fordun, 2:263â264.
For in-fighting amongst the Scottish forces, and potential support of MacWilliam, see: Gesta Henrici Secundi, 2:7â9; Dauvit Broun, âContemporary Perspectives on Alexander IIâs Succession: The Evidence of King-Lists,â in Reign of Alexander II, ed. Oram, 79â98 at 83 n. 19. See also: Archibald A.M. Duncan, âRoger of Howden and Scotland, 1187â1201,â in Church Chronicle and Learning in Medieval and Renaissance Scotland, ed. Barbara E. Crawford, 135â159 (Edinburgh: Mercat Press, 1999), 141â142.
âAnnales Prioratus de Dunstaplia,â in Annales Monastici, ed. Henry R. Luard (London: Rolls Series, 1866), 3:78; SAEC, 336â337.
Chron. Bower, 4:466â467. See also: Memoriale Fratris Walteri de Coventria, ed. William Stubbs, 2 vols. (London: Rolls Series, 1872â73), 2:206; McDonald, Outlaws of Medieval Scotland, 41â42; Ross, âMoray, Ulster, and the MacWilliams,â 30â31; Neville, âRoyal Pardon in Scotland,â 562â564.
John G. Bellamy, The Law of Treason in England in the Later Middle Ages (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2004), 20â21; Barron, âPenalties for Treason,â 189; Royer, âThe Body in Parts,â 330â332.
Daniel Baraz, âViolence or Cruelty? An Intercultural Perspective,â in âA Great Effusion of Blood?â Interpreting Medieval Violence, ed. Mark D. Meyerson, Daniel Thierry, and Oren Falk, 164â189 (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2004), 166. See also: McGrath, âThe Politics of Chivalry,â 68.
Ross, âMoray, Ulster, and the MacWilliams,â 42. For the use of the market as a location for punishment, see: James Masschaele, âThe Public Space of the Marketplace in Medieval England,â Speculum 77 (2002): 383â 421 at 405â406.
Fiona Watson, âThe Expression of Power in a Medieval Kingdom: Thirteenth-Century Scottish Castles,â in Scottish Power Centres from the Early Middle Ages to the Twentieth Century, ed. Sally M. Foster, Alan I. Macinnes, and Ranald MacInnes, 59â78 (Glasgow: Cruithne Press, 1998), 68; Alexander Grant, âThanes and Thanages in Scotland, from the Eleventh to the Fourteenth Centuries,â in Medieval Scotland: Crown, Lordship and Community: Essays Presented to G.W.S. Barrow, ed. Alexander Grant and Keith Stringer, 39â81 (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 1993), 77.
Keith J. Stringer, âKingship, Conflict and StateâMaking in the Reign of Alexander II: The War of 1215â17 and its Context,â in Reign of Alexander II, 99â156 at 141â142.
Ailred of Rievaulx, âRelatio de Standardo,â in Chronicles of Stephen, Henry II and Richard I, 3:188; SAEC, 180.
A Norse account of the earl of Rossâs expedition against Skye in 1262 recorded âthat the Scots had even taken the small children and raising them on the points of their spears shook them till they fell down to their hands, when they threw them away lifeless on the ground.â See: The Norwegian Account of Hacoâs Expedition Against Scotland, ad MCCLXIII, ed. James Johnstone (Edinburgh: William Brown, 1882), 19.
Gillingham, âConquering the Barbarians,â 45â47. See also: Strickland, War and Chivalry, 293â328.
Psalms, 137:9. For discussion of the nature of Psalm 137, see: John Ahn, âPsalm 137: Complex Communal Laments,â Journal of Biblical Literature 127.2 (2008): 267â289. My thanks to Professor Dauvit Broun for the reference to the quote from Psalms.
Matthew, 2:16â18; Anne E. Bailey, âMiracle Children: Medieval Hagiography and Childhood Imperfection,â Journal of Interdisciplinary History 47.3 (2017): 267â285; Kerstin ÂPfeiffer, ââA stroke schalt thow beyreâ: Staging Anger in Plays of the Massacre of the Innocents,â The Mediaeval Journal 5.2 (2015): 109â130.
Daniel Baraz, Medieval Cruelty: Changing Perceptions, Late Antiquity to the Early Modern Period (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 2003), 123; Neville, âRoyal Pardon in Scotland,â 566.
C. Warren Hollister, âRoyal Acts of Mutilation: The Case Against Henry I,â Albion 10 (1978): 330â340 at 332â333.
Michel Foucault, Discipline and Punish: The Birth of the Prison (New York: Random House, 1995), 34, 43â44; Patricia Skinner, ââBetter off dead than disfigured?â The Challenges of Facial Injury in the Premodern Past,â Transactions of the Royal Historical Society 26 (2016): 25â41 at 32â33.
For discussion of the history of these and other punishments in a British, Irish, and wider European context, see: Castration and Culture in the Middle Ages, ed. Larissa Tracy (Cambridge: D.S. Brewer, 2013); and Capital and Corporal Punishment in Anglo-Saxon England, ed. Jay Paul Gates and Nicole Marafioti (Woodbridge: Boydell Press, 2014).
Thorfinnâs punishment may relate to similar examples from England provided in law codes such as the Leis Willelme. See: Charlene M. Eska, ââImbrued in their owne bloudâ: Castration in Early Welsh and Irish Sources,â in Castration and Culture in the Middle Ages, ed. Tracy, 149â173 at 155â159.
Adam J. Kosto, Hostages in the Middle Ages (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012), 24â25; R. Rees Davies, Domination and Conquest: The Experience of Ireland, Scotland and Wales 1100â1300 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990), 57; McDonald, Outlaws of Medieval Scotland, 41.
Klaus van Eickles, âGendered Violence: Castration and Blinding as Punishment for Treason in Normandy and AngloâNorman England,â Gender and History 16:3 (2004): 588â602 at 591.
Chron. Newburgh, 75â76; William of Newburgh, 1:105â107; McDonald, Outlaws of Medieval Scotland, 27. For wider context of such punishments, see: Larissa Tracy, ââAl defouleden is holie bodiâ: Castration, the Sexualization of Torture, and Anxieties of Identity in the South English Legendary,â in Castration and Culture in the Middle Ages, ed. Tracy, 87â107.
Willelmi Malmesbriensis monachi De gestis regum Anglorum, ed. William Stubbs (London: Rolls Series, 1889), 2:477; translated in SAEC, 118â119. See also: Chron. Fordun, 2:213; Chron. Bower, 3:85.
ESSH, 183; Chron. Fordun, 2:249â250; Chron. Bower, 4:253 (Malcolm); Chron. Melrose, 11; Chron. Holyrood, 188; Chron. Fordun, 2:249â250; Chron. Bower, 4:253 (Donald). For discussion of these prisoners, and who they were, see: Ross, âPrisoner of Roxburgh,â 269â282.
For use of fines as a recognized means of escaping criminal punishment, see: Neville, âRoyal Mercy in Later Medieval Scotland,â 19â21.
Richard Oram, Domination and Lordship Scotland 1070â1230 (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2011), 303.
APS, 1:114; McDonald, Outlaws of Medieval Scotland, 157; Alexander Grant, âThe Province of Ross and the Kingdom of Alba,â in Alba: Celtic Scotland in the Medieval Era, ed. Edward J. Cowan and R. Andrew McDonald, 88â126 (East Linton: Tuckwell Press, 2000), 124.
Regesta Regum Scottorum, II: The Acts of William I, King of Scots, 1165â1214, ed. Geoffrey W.S. Barrow (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 1971), no. 258.
Barbara E. Crawford, âNorse Earls and Scottish Bishops in Caithness: A Clash of Cultures,â in The Viking Age in Caithness, Orkney and the North Atlantic, ed. Colleen E. Batey, Judith Jesch, and Christopher D. Morris, 129â147 (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 1993), 136.
Regesta Regum Scottorum, I: The Acts of Malcolm IV, King of Scots 1153â1165, ed. Geoffrey W.S. Barrow (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 1960), no.175; McDonald, Outlaws of Medieval Scotland, 28; Archibald A.M. Duncan, Scotland: The Making of the Kingdom (New York: Barnes and Noble, 1975), 166â167.
Gerd Althoff, âSatisfaction: Peculiarities of the Amicable Settlement of Conflicts in the Middle Ages,â in Ordering Medieval Societies: Perspectives on Intellectual and Practical Modes of Shaping Social Relations, ed. Bernhard Jussen, trans. Pamela Selwyn, 270â284 (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2001), 271â273.
Althoff, âSatisfaction,â 272â273; Chron. Fordun, 2:271â272; Chron. Bower, 4:427â429; Orkeyinga Saga: The History of the Earls of Orkney, ed. Herman Paulsson and Paul Edwards (London: Penguin Books, 1978), 223â224.
The earl of Orkneyâs submission is particularly interesting because he also rebelled against his other liege lord, the king of Norway. In 1195, Earl Harald went to Norway to submit to King Sverre. The detailed account of his submission in Sverreâs Saga, in a public forum in front of the assembled Norwegian nobility, reinforced the kingâs authority following a period of internal unrest. At the same time, it also displayed the kingâs magnanimity in forgiving Earl Harald and allowing him to re-enter the royal peace, with punishment coming in the form of lost land and revenue, just as it had in Scotland. See: ESSH, 2:345â346; Crawford, âNorse Earls and Scottish Bishops,â 130. See also: Rees Davies, ââKeeping the natives in orderâ: The English King and the âCelticâ Rulers 1066â1216,â Peritia 10 (1996): 212â224 at 216.
For the public nature of Scottish justice, see: Neville, âRoyal Mercy in Later Medieval Scotland,â 21â22.
Chron. Melrose, 12; Chron. Holyrood, 189; Chron. Fordun, 2:251; Chron. Bower, 4:259; Richard D. Oram, The Lordship of Galloway (Edinburgh: John Donald, 2000), 90â91.
Chron. Mailros, 145â146; Chron. Melrose, 61â62; Chron. Fordun, 2:286; Chron. Bower, 5:149â151.
Matthew Paris, Chronica majora, ed. Henry R. Luard, 7 vols. (London: Rolls Series, 1876), 3:365; SAEC, 342.
Chron. Fordun, 2:271â272; Chron. Bower, 4:427â429; Barbara Crawford, âThe Earldom of Caithness and the Kingdom of Scotland, 1150â1266,â in Essays on the Nobility of Medieval Scotland, ed. Keith J. Stringer, 25â43 (Edinburgh: John Donald, 1985), 32.
Gillingham, â1066 and the Introduction of Chivalry,â 226; Strickland, War and Chivalry, 176â182.
Karen Bosnos, âTreason and Politics in AngloâNorman Histories,â in Feud, Violence and Practice, 293â306 at 300â301, 305â306.
Matthew J. Strickland, âIn coronam regiam commiserunt iniuriam: The Baronsâ War and the Legal Status of Rebellion, 1264â1266,â in Law and Power in the Middle Ages: Proceedings of the Fourth Carlsberg Academy Conference on Medieval Legal History, ed. Per Andersen, Mia Munster-Swendsen, and Helle Vogt, 171â198 (Copenhagen: DJOF Publishing, 2008), 177; Royer, âThe Body in Parts,â 323; Westerhoff, Death and the Noble Body, 115â120.
Duncan, Scotland, 546. For a contradictory view that Alexander II instead âconsciously rejected as conduct unbecoming a Christian ruler the notion that the punishment of offenders must in every case be swift, brutal and corporal,â see: Neville, âRoyal Pardon in Scotland,â 569â571.
The 1236 Galloway campaign had a violent aftermath. The abbeys of Tongland and Glenluce were sacked, and some clergymen were killed by forces under the command of Walter Comyn (Chron. Melrose, 61â62; Chron. Fordun, 2:286; Chron. Bower, 5:149â151). Irish troops who had supported Thomas of Galloway were given leave to return home but were ambushed on their journey by the people of Glasgow. All were beheaded except two, who were instead torn apart by horses (Chron. Melrose, 61â62; Chron. Fordun, 2:286; Chron. Bower, 5:149â151). McDonald suggests that these events may have been crown-sponsored violence against the kingâs enemies, but this may be too much of an attempt to see royal involvement in every violent act against those who opposed the crown (McDonald, Outlaws of Medieval Scotland, 114).