Lord Sempill will be attending the 2013 Stone Mountain Game

Every year during the third week of October, you’d be forgiven for thinking a little piece of Atlanta was in fact a little piece of Scotland. Over one weekend, the picturesque grounds of Atlanta’s Stone Mountain Park meadow resound with the sounds of bagpipes, fiddles and harps, as it plays host to one of the biggest Highland Games events in the world.

With only two weeks to go until the beginning of the 41st annual Stone Mountain Highland Games, half a world away in Scotland, Jamie, Lord Sempill is preparing to make the trek to his third international Highland Games event for 2013. “I’m coming back to America for a second time. Rain stopped play at Grandfather Mountain Games in July, so I’m coming back for a dry game – and I don’t mean no alcohol.” For American clans attending Stone Mountain, they’ll have the chance to meet with Jamie and who will be happy to share one of Scotland’s finest offerings, a dram of single malt whisky.

Lord Sempill comes from one of Scotland’s oldest families and has been actively involved in the international clan network for fifteen years. As the driving force behind Edinburgh’s 2009 Clan Gathering, Lord Sempill attracted 42,000 people from around the world to the event, which was described as the largest recorded international clan gathering. The Gathering also included a clan convention which became the largest meeting on record of Scotland’s clan chiefs. He’s certainly got his finger on the pulse in the world of the clans – as an active member of the Standing Council of Scottish Chiefs, an honorary member of the Council of Scottish Clans and Associations, Inc., and a board director at the American Scottish Foundation.

Over the years Lord Sempill has seen the relationship grow and prosper between the international clan network and Scotland, with his latest venture yet another step in building those ties. He’s currently working in collaboration with Macdonald & Rees, a new Scotland-based ancestral tourism company who specialise in providing the ultimate ancestral journey – bespoke visits to Scotland based on an individuals clan genealogy. Lord Sempill says that for many descendents around the world, tracing your roots can be a daunting prospect. “For many with Scottish ancestry, it’s a lifelong dream to travel to Scotland and discover family history and ancestral connections. Macdonald and Rees provide descendents with expert historians and genealogists on the ground, that ensure an incredibly meaningful and insightful visit home. Whether an individual or a family group, we can reconnect you to the world of your ancestors.” Jamie recently led a group of Clan Rose descendents to their ancestral homeland just east of Inverness, where they met with Clan chief Chief and 26th Baron of Kilravock, David Rose.

This year thousands of Scottish descendents will don their family tartans and make the trip to Stone Mountain, where two days of Highland Games competitions will take place including the ever-popular heavyweight events, piping, drumming and Highland dance competitions. There will also be a parade of the tartans and Clan Challenge athletic events, open to any attendees. The guest of honour, Margaret Elliot of Redheugh Chief of Clan Elliot will also be making the trip from Scotland. As well as Lord Sempill, other distinguished guests include Andrew Morrison – Viscount Dunrossil, Lord Montgomerie – Younger of Montgomerie and David Rose Chief of Clan Rose.

Lord Sempill and Mike McAlpin at Grandfather Mountain Highland Games, 2013

Attendees will also have the chance to find out more about their genealogy in the clan information area, with 65 clans and family associations confirmed in attendance. You’ll most likely find Lord Sempill at the Scottish Heritage USA tent, however he will be making visits to clan association tents. “The torrential rain stopped play at Grandfather Mountain, so I didn’t get to speak to a lot of the clans who were there. I’m especially interested in meeting those who want to make the trip to trace their roots and discover Scotland.”

For more information on the Stone Mountain games, view our event listing over at TartanFootprint.com where you can also download the schedule of events and get in touch with Lord Sempill directly.

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I’d like to continue by reproducing Alaistair Moffat’s reading given at St Giles. It was an excellent account of the battle and the aftermath.

—

FLODDEN ADDRESS. – ALISTAIR MOFFAT

When dawn broke on the morning of 10th September, 1513, the landscape of hell was revealed. On the gently undulating northern ridges of Branxton Hill more than 10,000 men lay dead or dying. In the midst of the carnage were the naked, plundered bodies of King James IV of Scotland, his half-brother, Alexander Stewart, Archbishop of St Andrews, George Hepburn, Bishop of the Isles, two abbots, nine great earls of Scotland, fourteen lords of parliament, innumerable knights and noblemen of lesser degree and many thousands of farmers, ploughmen, weavers and burgesses. It was the appalling aftermath of the battle of Flodden, the greatest military disaster in Scotland’s history.

In the grey light of that terrible dawn, sentries posted around the captured Scottish cannon could make out where the brunt of battle had been joined. Below them, at the foot of the slope ran the trickle of a nameless burn now choked with slaughter, a wrack of mangled bodies, broken pikeshafts, shattered shields and everywhere blood and the sickening stench of death, vomit and voided bowels. Not all of the bodies were yet corpses. Through a long dark night the battlefield had not been a silent graveyard. Trapped under lifeless comrades, crippled, hamstrung or horribly mutilated, fatally wounded men still breathed. Bladed weapons rarely kill outright and they were often used to bludgeon men to their knees or into unconsciousness. In the churned mud of the battlefield some men will have lost their footing, fallen and been hacked at before they could get up. Many bled to death, maimed, lacerated by vicious cuts, screaming, fainting and screaming once more in their death agonies. Some will have been put out of their misery by parties of English soldiers scouring the field by torchlight for plunder, stripping the bodies, ransacking them for valuables. But other men will have lingered on in

unspeakable pain, praying to their God, passing in and out of consciousness, slowly bleeding to death. The fury of the battle on Flodden field may have been stilled and awash with death and defeat. But all was not yet over. In an instant the plunderers and scavengers looked up and the sentries by the cannon stood to, frantically peering through the morning light. They could hear the rumbling thunder of hoofbeats – and then, suddenly, riders erupted over Barelees Rig. With 800 horsemen at his back, Lord Alexander Home galloped hard across the horrors of the battlefield and up the slopes of Branxton Hill. They had not come back to Flodden to rejoin a lost battle but to rescue their captured ordnance. And they very nearly succeeded. After a sharp skirmish, the English gunners managed to load and get off a volley at Home’s squadron, and they scattered.

And so it ended. As the Border horsemen wheeled round and raced out of range, the remnants of the shattered Scottish army were limping across the Tweed at Coldstream. There was no organised pursuit. The victorious English army had taken heavy casualties and the Earl of Surrey and his captains were exhausted. In any event, their bloody work was done. The floors o’ the Forest were a’ wede awa, Flodden was a national disaster, a harbinger of lawlessness in the shape of the Border Reivers, the beginning of a long period of political uncertainty and the last medieval battle in the history of Britain. The last time a king was to die leading his army.

It was also an epic. As two huge armies mustered and marched into history, extraordinary scenes had been witnessed. At Ellemford, high in the Lammermuirs above Duns, where sheep now graze on the flanks of the hills, where buzzards hang in the updrafts and an elegant bridge crosses the Whiteadder, King James IV and his army camped. Huge guns were trundled down the hill trails, dragged by oxen, and by 21st August 1513, almost 30,000 men had massed in this beautiful, now lonely valley. Two days later, the largest force ever to leave Scotland crossed the Tweed at the fords below Coldstream. They had declared war, they had entered the realm of the Tudors, of the ferociously ambitious and bull-like Henry VIII.

Meanwhile Thomas Howard, Earl of Surrey, and the Bishop of Durham carried the standard of St Cuthbert before their battle-hardened troops. In front of the high altar of the great cathedral, Howard had watched the bishop bless the flag of the Haliwerfolc. The lands of Palatinate, of the Prince-Bishops of Durham, reached to the Tweed and beyond, and in an early definition of Englishness, their people were known as the Holy Man’s Folk, the Haliwerfolc. Ancient allegiances were being roused and summoned.

Between 2nd and 9th September two vast armies circled each other in a small corner of North Northumberland, like heavyweight boxers looking for weaknesses or waiting for wrong moves. After the Earl of Surrey had despatched a herald, the Rouge Croix, it was finally agreed that battle would be joined on 9th September. Supplies for almost 70,000 men, horses and camp followers were running dangerously low

and neither army could remain in the field much longer.

Realising the strength of the Scots’ entrenched position, Surrey led his men to the east, skirting Flodden Edge and staying out of artillery range. On the morning of the appointed day, he crossed the River Till and took up a position to the north of James IV’s army, barring any retreat to Scotland. And then, on a damp afternoon, the greatest battle ever fought between England and Scotland began.

On the left wing of the Scottish host, the Highlanders led by the Earl of Huntly massed in formation with Lord Home’s Borderers, and in the moments before their chiefs roared the claideamh mor, the order to charge, the Gaelic-speaking warriors did something remarkable. They began to summon the army of the dead. They began the sloinneadh, the naming of the names of memory. To bolster his courage, each man began to recite his genealogy. Many waiting to charge could go back 20 generations. As if they were offering up the murmur of prayer, each man remembered why he had come to fight. Is mise mac Iain, mac Ruaridh, mac Domhnuill. I am the son of John, the son of Roderick, the son of Donald. And once their quiet voices stilled, the roar of the claideamh mor rent the air and they broke into the charge. With their broadswords and Lochaber axes, the Highlanders tore into the English ranks, the division led by Edmund Howard, They scattered and a rout was only prevented when Lord Dacre rode to the rescue with his English Borderers. As history rumbled across Branxton Hill, fortune appeared to be smiling on the Scots.

At the same time, James IV was about to make a catastrophic decision, a crucial error of judgement. Instead of occupying an elevated position at the rear of his vast army, he chose to lead from the front. His division raced down Branxton Hill and as they reached the lower slopes and much softer ground, many men began to skid and lose their footing. This unsteadiness made it very difficult for them to control their long, 12 foot pikes. The wet ground made them charge out of formation, only engaging piecemeal with the solidly planted ranks of English billmen, With their shorter, more easily handled bills, they began to slice into James IV’s division. And as the men at the back saw the Scottish pikes go down, they hesitated and many of them ran, believing their king to be killed. By leading from the front, James was immediately submerged in the ruck of the fighting, only able to see what was directly in front of him, in no position to direct his forces. The result was disaster.

The legacy of Flodden was most immediately and keenly felt in the Borders. North of the Tweed the memory of the battle is kept alive in the fabric of the midsummer common ridings. At Selkirk the ceremony of the casting of the colours is unique in Britain and it is based on the return of a soldier known as Fletcher, traditionally believed to have been the only one of sixty from the town to return. In his bloodied hand he held aloft, in a gesture of desolate defiance, a flag captured from the men of Macclesfield in Cheshire. Many Englishmen had fought and fallen at Flodden. And passions still run high. When the Mayor of Macclesfield recently wrote to the Provost of Selkirk asking for the return of the flag, he was told that he would need to come to the Borders and take it.

Flodden is an immense story. Like Culloden in 1746, it signalled the end of a fading, feudal Scotland.  And it also ushered in a century of lawlessness, the criminal society controlled by the appalling Border Reivers. Across Europe, renaissance, enlightenment and the reformation were changing lives, forming new ideas and creating the institutions of the modern world. In the first half of the 16th century, central authority broke down in a leaderless nation, and while swords and spears spoke in Scotland, the law was often silent.

What is to be learned from all of that suffering and slaughter, from all of those ancient enmities? First that they are ancient and must remain firmly in the past. In 2014 Scotland faces a historic choice and whichever way the people of Scotland vote, it must be a signal lesson of Flodden that enmity, even ancient enmity can have no part. And it is to the credit of politicians on all sides of the argument that it has not reared an ugly head. But it might.

And alongside that it mustmbe important to remember, to understand the visceral, bloody realities of whatmwent on on that terrible day 500 years ago. Lest we forget, Flodden should become a place of remembrance and of pilgrimage, a place where the uncomfortable lessons of history can be learned and never forgotten.

Two weeks ago, on one of the countless beautiful evenings of this glorious summer, I drove over to Branxton. As the sun threw long shadows across the gently undulating fields, I tried to imagine the 10th of September, 1513, the distant roar of thousands of men, the screams, the fear and feral closeness of hand-to-hand fighting when

men can smell the breath, smell the sweat of men grunting pushing, hacking, swearing at them, trying to kill them. In a Gaelic phrase, I tried to listen for the music of the thing as it happened. I tried to listen to the slow, sad music of our history. I hope that many in Scotland and England hear it too.

Prior to the sir Malcolm MacGregor (who has admitted that try as he might he can not find a single MacGregor involved in the battle) researched the casualty lists. The following names are clans and families who are known to have fought at Flodden along with notable people who fell in the battle:

From the Highland Clans: 

Campbell, Erskine, Fraser, Gordon, Graham, Guthrie, Haldane, Hay, Keith, Leslie, Lindsay, Macaulay, Macfarlane, Mackay, Maclean, Macnab, Menteith, Moncreiff, Moray, Murray, Ogilvy, Oliphant, Ramsay, Rattray, Ross, Ruthven, Seton, Sinclair, Stewart, Forbes, Forsyth, Grant, MacKenzie, MacNaughton, Ross, Skene, Buchanan Of Leny, MacDonald

The Lowland and Border Clans and Families:

Adair, Abercromby, Adam, Anstruther, Baillie, Baird, Balfour, Barclay, Blackadder, Bonar, Boswell, Carnegie, Cathcart, Cleland, Cockburn, Colville, Craig, Crauford, Crichton, Cunningham, Dunbar, Dundas, Edmonstone Of Duntreath, Elphinstone, Fotheringham, Gray, Grierson, Haig, St.Clair Of Roslin, Henderson, Hepburne, Herries, Home, Hoppringle, Houston, Lauder, Liddel, Lockhart, Lumsden, Lyon, Masterson, Maitland, Maule, Maxtone, Maxwell, Melville, Muirhead, Mure, Napier, Rollo, Sempill, Somerville, Spottiswood, Stewart Of Traquair, Allardice, Ballingall, Kerr, Colville, Crammond, Eliott, Ferguson, Fleming, Foreman (Standard Bearer), Inche, Inglis, Johnstone, Kirkcaldy, Knolis, Logan, Montgomery, Morton, Muir, Nelson Of Madinpap, Otterbrun, Pitcarin, Pringle, Reid, Rorison, Savage, Scott, Seton, Tunstall, Vallanche, Wood Of Raik, Kennedy, Douglas, Hamilton, Livingstone, Wemyss, Wallace, MacLellan, MacCulloch, MacDowall

Chief Or Notable Head Of House/Family

King James IV, Archbishop Of St.Andrews (King’s Son), Earl Of Morton ( Grandson Of James 1), Earl Of Glencairn, Douglas Of Drumlanrig, Sir James Dunbar, Dundas, Lord Elphinstone, Lord Erskine, Earl Of Huntly, Earl Of Montrose, Sir Alexander Guthrie, Haig Of Bemersyde, Haldane Of Gleneagles, Earl Of Errol, Earl Of Bothwell, Sir William Keith, Earl Of Cassilis, Earl Of Rothes, Earl Of Crawford, MacDowal, Earl Of Garthland, MacFarlane Of Arrochar, Hector MacLean Of Duart, Maxwell Lord Of Carlaverock, Sir John Moncreiffe Of That Ilk, Moray Of Abercairney, Ramsay Of Dalhousie, Rattray Of That Ilk, Rollo Of Duncrub, Master Of Ruthven, Lord Sempill, Lord Seton, Earl Of Caithness, Earl Of Atholl, Earl Of Lennox, Lord Darnley, Master Of Angus, Anstruther Of That Ilk, Ballingall Of That Ilk, Master Of Eliott, Lord Forbes, Master Of Lovat, Sir Alexander Gordon Of Lochinvar, Sir Alexander Gordon Of Knockenshene, Grant Of Freuchie, John Henderson Of Fordell, Lord Alexander Home, Sir Patrick Houston Of That Ilk, William Johnstone Of That Ilk, Lord Keith, Lord Lorn, Lyon (Sons Of Lord Glamis), MacKenzie Of Kintail, Sir Alexander MacNaughton Of That Ilk, Andrew Pitcairn Of Pitcairn And 7 Sons, Lord Ross, William Ruthven Of That Ilk, Sir Walter Scott Of Buccleuch, Alexander Skene Of That Ilk, Sir David Wemyss, Earl Of Argyll, Lord Kinnaird, Master Of Cathcart, MacDonald Of Lochalsh.

—–

The St Giles Service…

Just over 40 clan chiefs  attended the St Giles service. At the end of the service they mustered for a photograph on the steps. To help you identify who was there we have been given a sketch with a key to the names:

1. Sir Walter Riddell of Riddell 2. The Hon. Elizabeth Fairbairn 3. Madam Pauline Hunter of Hunterston 4. Sir David Bannerman of Elsick 5. Lord Polwarth 6. Andrew Wallace Younger of that Ilk 7. Andrew Dewar Durie of Durie CBE 8. Michael Ancram, Marquess of Lothian 9. Andrew MacThomas of Finegand 10. Earl of Dundee 11. David Campbell of Strachur 12. Roderick Macneil of Barra 13. Sir James McGrigor 14. Earl of Eglinton and Winton 15. Professor David Hannay of Kirkdale and of that Ilk 16. Henry Trotter Younger of Charterhall 17. John MacArthur of that Ilk 18. Duncan Paisley of Westerlea 19. Richard Carmichael of Carmichael 20. Earl of Caithness21. Earl of Lauderdale 22. The Hon. Alexander Leslie 23. Earl of Erroll  24. Lord Napier and Ettrick 25. Madam Arabella Kincaid of Kincaid 26. David Cranstoun of that Ilk 27. Jamie Macnab of Macnab 28. Earl of Wemyss and March 29. Sir Crispin Agnew of Lochnaw  30. The Hon. Kate Nicolson 31. Duke of Montrose 32. The Hon. Peregrine Moncreiffe of that Ilk 33. Martin Haldane of Gleneagles 34.  Lord Sempill 35.  Andrew Marjoribanks of that Ilk 36. Donald MacLaren of MacLaren  37.  Duke of Hamilton 38. Field Marshal the Lord Guthrie of Craigiebank 39. Isla St Clair 40. Marquess of Ailsa 41. Madam Margaret Eliott of Redheugh 42. Sir Malcolm MacGregor of MacGregor 43. Lord Macdonald of Macdonald 44.  Richard Oliphant of that Ilk

This image will help you identify the chiefs:

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Madam Arabella Kincaid

Chief of Clan Kincaid, Madam Arabella Kincaid says: ‘When I became chief it was almost like being a mother for the first time. I get letters all the time, mainly from the US, and we’ve had an active clan association for more than 50 years.’

Flora Fraser, Lady Saltoun Chief of Clan Fraser is not only a female Clan Chief but is currently the only female holder of a lordship who also holds a seat in the House of Lords as an elected hereditary peer. Now that’s impressive.

To celebrate this and upcoming Mother’s Day I have started to put together a list:

1. Clan Elliot : Madam Margaret Elliot of Redheugh
2. Clan Fraser: Rt Hon. The Lady Saltoun
3. Clan Grierson: Sarah Grierson of Lag
4. Clan Hunter: Madam Pauline Hunter of Hunterson
5. Clan Kincaid: Madam Arabella Kincaid of Kincaid
6. Clan MacDougall: Morag MacDougall of MacDougall
7. Clan MacKay: The Hon. Elizabeth Fairbairn
8. Clan MacKinnon: Madam Ann MacKinnon of MacKinnon
9. Clan Mar: Margaret of Mar, 31st Countess of Mar
10. Clan Moffat: Madam Jean Moffat of that ilk

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Ladhope Moor near to Buckholm

One evening in the 1680s, as the light was starting to fade and the colour of day drained away turning eveything to grey an ominous dark character can be seen striding over Ladhope Moor with two large dogs. He is seeking covenanters whom he is sure are holiding an assembly meeting somewhere nearby. His shiny black eyes search for tracks as he listens for signs as to where they are hiding. He knows they are there somewhere it’s just a matter of time before he finds them.

He is the renowned  Laird Pringle of Buckholm Tower, an ardent Royalist, hater and torturer of covenanters.

His hunch as usual was correct and he finds evidence that this was indeed the spot which the covenanters had used. But  it was deserted. They had recently, and in some rush, fled the scene; obviously they had be warned that he was closing in on them. Nearby Pringle spots the body of a man lying hurt on the ground , he recognises him straight away, it’s George Elliot, the well-known covenanter. He had been injured after being thrown from his horse.  With him is his son William, who had stayed to look after him. Their faces full of fear watching helplessly as Pringle and his growling dogs approach.

Buckholm Tower, Galashiels

Pringle was ordered not to kill the men  on the spot but to take then captive overnight so they could be interrogated the next day.  Pringle was furious with this descision.  The pair were locked in the cellar of Buckholm. Later that night Pringle was roaring drunk and seething with anger at being made to do this. He wanted their blood, the kill should be his. His rage grew till he decided to take matters into his own hands and stormed the cellars. Pitch dark down the cellar – servants gathered upstairs peering  into it to see what all the noise was hearing scuffling, then sreaming, then nothing …. silence.

Meanwhile the wife and mother of the prisoners – Isobel Elliot had arrived at Buckholm demanding to see the men and make sure they were being treated fairly. She knew of Laird Pringle’s blood lust and feared for their safety.

The Laird still covered in the blood of Geordie and William sees her approaching. He desperately wants her to witness the aftermath of his savagery, see what he’s done. He jumps out and drags her down the cellar. In a small pool of light the lifeless bodies of her husband and son hang from meat hooks. Their flesh torn and their bodies beaten to a bloody pulp.

The cellar at Buckholm Tower

During the nights before the first anniversary of his death, the laird’s ghost was seen running towards the tower, with the baying cries of the hounds reverberating behind him. And on the night that he died and every June thereafter, cries and running footsteps were reported to be heard, not outside the tower, but from the depths of the cellar. Had his terrible deeds finally caught up with him?

In nearby Melrose Abbey graveyard stands a stone bearing the name George Pringle, aged 78 years.

The date of death on the headstone reads 5 March 1693, making it possible that this is the laird in question’s grave.

Buckholm Tower today is largely ruined, though the best preserved room is the cellar, where the iron hooks featured in the story can still be seen.

In 2005, paranormal research team Spectre carried out three investigations at Buckholm Tower. The team reported temperature changes, the sound of footsteps and recorded video footage of the iron hooks moving. They also claim to have taken an audio recording of an indistinct voice, and when they asked whether laird Pringle was present, the voice is believed to have said: “I had to” or “I hate you”.

Orb photographed

Buckholm Tower remains a favourite among ghost hunters, many are convinced that something evil lurks in the remains of the tower’s cellar, even claiming that if you look closely you may see faint blood stains on the wall. Maybe the spilled blood of Geordie and William?

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Border Reivers following the Hue and Cry

In 1530 James V, king of Scotland, was a mere lad of seventeen. Freed at last from the clutches of those men who endeavoured to reign in his stead, in his minority, he was determined to prove that he was the real power in Scotland.

One area where allegiance to the clan and its leader came before any deference to royal power was the Scottish Border country. There the clans were a law unto themselves, particularly troublesome and unruly.

Accordingly he moved south from his seat in Edinburgh intent on doling out justice and punishment to those who were of particular notoriety. It is said he had six thousand armed followers.

The history of Johnnie Armstrong of Gilnockie, a power in the Scottish Borders, is well recorded. By subterfuge, some say as the result of a ‘loving letter’ he was encouraged to wait upon the king at Carlenrig, south of the Borders town of Hawick. There James, incensed by the apparent affluence of the fierce Border Reiver and his twenty-four followers, ordered their execution without trial. Johhnie had fallen into a trap from which there was no way out. He pleaded with the rash, impetuous youth of a king but to no avail. He resigned himself to his fate but not before saying in the Border Ballad which tells his story:-

‘To seek hot water beneath cold ice,

Surely it is a great folly-

I have asked grace at a graceless face,

But there is none for my men and me!’

He and twenty-three of his followers were strung up on the spot. The twenty-fourth was burned alive in vengeance for the burning of a poor women and her son in which he was the instigator.

In time, when maturity replaced the rashness and callowness of youth, James would regret his actions at Carlenrig. He lost any allegiance the Armstrongs of Liddesdale had for the Scottish monarchy on that fateful day in July 1530. In 1542 at the rout of the Scottish army by the English at the Battle of Solway Moss, the Armstrongs withheld their support for the Scottish cause, even harassed the losers as the terrified remnants of the Scottish army fled the field of conflict and headed back north.

James died shortly afterwards. He was about thirty years old.

Before he arrived in Carlenrig in July 1530, James V was determined to mete out the royal justice against two other Border Reivers of particular renown. One was Adam Scott of Tushielaw, known as the ‘King of Thieves’. Not only did he reive both far and wide; he was feared for the way in which he summarily despatched his adversaries. He strung them up from the trees which surrounded his tower at Tushielaw.

He was soon apprehended by the army of James V, and, it is said, hanged from the very trees from which had swung in their death throes many of the Reivers who had contested his bloody and audacious raids.

The other Border Reiver who was the subject of James’ ferocity was William Cockburne of Henderland (near St. Mary’s Loch). It is said he was hanged over the doorway of his Tower there.

Sir Walter Scott tells us in the ‘Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border’ that ‘in a deserted burial place, which once surrounded the chapel of the castle (the Tower of Henderland), the monument of Cockburne and his lady are still shown. It is a large stone broken in three parts; but some armorial bearings may yet be seen and the following inscription is still legible, though defaced:-

HERE LYES PERYS OF COKBURNE AND HIS WYFE MARJORY.

the grave of Perys and Marjorie Cockburne.

The table-topped grave can still be seen on a little knoll of a hill in what was the churchyard of the Tower.

Following the deaths of Johnnie Armstrong and his followers emotions ran high and truth ran second best to fact; an approach handed down to the writers of Scottish Border history of the nineteenth century, including the rightly well-respected Sir Walter.

Perys Cokburne was not the William Cockburne who suffered at the hands of James V.

Neither Adam Scott ‘King of Thieves’ nor William Cockburne were summarily despatched within the confines of their own Towers. Rather they were taken to Edinburgh, tried and beheaded.

Robert Pitcairn (1797 – 1855) compiled the documents which recorded the fate of the Border Reivers who were tried and executed. The compilation is known as ‘Pitcairn’s Criminal Trials’.

For 1530 he records the following:-

William Cokburne of Henderland, Convicted (in presence of the King) of High Treason committed by him, in bringing Alexander Forester and his son, Englishmen, to the plundering od Archibald Someruile: And for treasonably bringing certain Englishmen to the lands of Glenquhome: And for common Theft, common Reset of Theft, outputting and inputting thereof – SENTENCE. For which causes and crimes he has forfeited his life, lands, and goods, moveable and immoveable; which shall be escheated to the King.- BEHEADED.

ADAM SCOTT of Tuschelaw, convicted of art and part of theftuously taking blackmail from the time of his entry within the castle of Edinburgh, in ward, of John Browne in Hopprow; and of art and part of theftuously taking blackmail of Andrew Thorbrand and William his brother: and of theftuously taking blackmail from the poor tenants of Hopcailzow: and of theftuously taking blackmail from the tenants of Eschescheill: BEHEADED.

Cockburne, it would seem, was convicted for his alliance with Englishmen which, under the Border Law, was treason, Scott for blackmail which was probably the least of his crimes.

And what of the Border Widow?

One of the most evocative of the Border Ballads is that of the ‘Lament of the Border Widow’. It has always been associated with the death of William Cockeburne following his capture by James V. Although this is historically impossible, it admirably portrays the emotion, the futility, isolation and sorrow which followed many a death in the days of the Reivers.

A BORDER WIDOW’S LAMENT.

My love he built me a bonny bower,

And clad it a’ wi’ lilye flour (all) (flower)

A brawer bower ye ne’er did see,

Than my true love he built for me.

There came a man, by middle day,

He spied his sport and went away;

And brought the king that very night,

Who brake my bower, and slew my knight. (broke)

He slew my knight, to me sae dear; (so)

He slew my knight and poin’d his gear; ( escheated to the king)

My servants all did life for flee,

And left me in extremitie.

I sew’d his sheet, making my mane, (grieving and crying)

I watch’d the corpse myself alane (alone)

I watch’d his body night and day;

No living creature came that way.

I took his body on my back,

And whiles I gaed and whiles I sat; (moved, went)

I digged a grave, and laid him in,

And happ’d him with the sod sae green. (covered) (so)

But think not ye my heart was sair, (sore)

When I laid the moule on his yellow hair? (soil)

O think na ye my heart was wae (weary)

When I turn’d about, away to gae? (go)

Nae living man I’ll love again, (no)

Since that my lovely knight was slain,

Wi’ a lock of his yellow hair,

I’ll chain my heart for evermair.

In the reiving times, the 13th to the 17th centuries, the Scottish English Border was a land in turmoil. Endless confrontation and bloody feud spawned a people who were hard both mentally and physically. The ‘Lament of the Border Widow’ shows another side of the relentless strife which dominated the land of which little is said. Sadness and sorrow followed in its wake.

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Jamie Telfer lost all when raided by the English of Bewcastle. His despair would change to delight when help from the Scotts of Teviotdale brought him an unexpected gain.

English Reivers Raid

Bewcastle lies just south of the English Scottish Border; the remains of a once formidable castle still stand as a stark reminder that it had been a dangerous place to live in times gone-by. The Bewcastle Waste was a hunting ground of the Scottish Border Reivers and a direct route for them in their relentless raids into Northumberland, in particular Tynedale. The castle was well garrisoned in an effort to thwart the Scots as they headed for the Tyne valley.

Late in the sixteenth century the Captain of Bewcastle ventured forth to teach the Scots a lesson. Reprisal was on his mind as he sought to counter the many inroads into England of the Border Scots clans.

Bewcastle was strategically important. There has been a fortress there since Roman times

High in Ettrickdale, a lovely Border valley on the Scots side, once stood the home of Jamie Telfer. Here he lived with his wife and bairns in a somewhat isolated location. The family had little in the way of possessions, and as for many another Borderer of the time, life was harsh. They had only ten cattle and but a meagre smallholding of land which proved hard to tame to provide for almost all their needs. Yet they were happy in their lot; they asked for nothing but to live in peace and tranquillity in their little parcel of heaven.

The Captain of Bewcastle and his marauding band soon came upon the scene and, having gauged the lie of the land and the absence of close neighbours, laughed raucously at their good fortune. They saw only easy pickings.

The clash was but a scuffle; Much as the parents strove to combat the superior English force they were soon overcome, left face down in the mire as their children looked on in howling distress. The Bewcastle horde had soon made off with Jamie’s little herd.

Jamie Seeks Help from the Reiving Clans

After the English had left, Jamie ran the ten miles to Stobs Castle and sought the help of Gibby Elliot, a man of power in the neighbourhood. Elliot would have none of it because Jamie did not pay him blackmail. Blackmail was rent paid for protection against the more powerful reiving clans of either England or Scotland who made their living at the expense of the weak and defenceless: men who could not call on the aid and succour of a powerful overlord or clan chief. Elliot suggested that Jamie move on to Branxholme as it was to the Laird there that Jamie paid his blackmail. In despair, Jamie then ran from Stobs to Branxholme where he received a fairer reception.

This is the Nesby Tower at Branxholme south of Hawick. It was one of four towers joined by curtain walls high above the river Teviot

Scott, the Laird of Buccleuch and Branxholme had very soon called out his neighbours at Goldielands, Harden and Allanhaugh, also by the name of Scott. Together they rode hard to intercept the English before they should reach the Rutterford, a passage across the river Liddel that led into English ground.

The English, slowed by the ponderous pace of the beasts, were eventually caught up with, still on Scottish ground.

A Border Reiver Skirmish

In the ensuing melee a Scottish reiver named Willie was felled when his head was clove in two by an English sword. Wat Scott of Harden swore revenge and roused the Scottish party by his audacity and aggression. The Captain of Bewcastle was to come off badly when his leg was broken by a massive sword swipe onto his upper thigh. This, it is said in the ballad of Jamie Telfer, rendered him ‘useless’ to a woman for the remainder of his days. The Scots soon retrieved Jamie’s cattle.

The Scottish Reivers Move into England

A Scottish Reiver by the delightful name of Watty with the Wudspurs suggested that, as they were near the very Border Line, the Scots should move on to Stanegarthside (pronounced Stingerside) on the English side and chance their luck at the Captain of Bewcastle’s home there. This they duly did. After breaking down the door of the barmkin ( a wall, high and thick, which surrounded the tower), they soon outfought the English garrisoned for its defence and made away with some of the Captain’s cattle.

Stanegarthside.

A Poor Man’s Despair Turns to Delight

After leaving Branxholme Jamie had made his way home slowly to the Fair Dodhead, lost in wretched thought. He found his wife and bairns forlorn and in despair, huddled together in a corner of the single room that once was filled with laughter but now succumbed to a cheerless state. He was taken aback by the sorrowful sight and soon joined their wailing. What would tomorrow bring, what was their future?

Imagine the relief then when the Scotts of Teviotdale soon brought home their ten beasts. The relief turned to delight when Jamie counted thirty- three kine (cows), twenty-three of which had formerly been pastured at the home of the Captain of Bewcastle.

The Captain must have rued the day he ever looked at the Fair Dodhead. Loss of cattle and manhood was a poor return for a reive which had set out with such high expectations.

An Afterword

There is more than one rendition of this story. From the ‘Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border’ by Sir Walter Scott to the Child Ballads and other versions whose sense is now lost. The location of the Fair Dodhead has never been conclusively proved. There is certainly more than one site with the name in the Scottish Borders. Different versions also cast a shadow over who aided Jamie. Was it the Scotts of Teviotdale or just maybe the Elliots of Stobs?

The original ballad, now lost, was certainly tinkered with down the years as the Scotts and Elliots endeavoured to prove their magnanimity. It matters little now. It is a stirring story of the days of the Reiver.

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Murder, theft, arson, blackmail and feud were the canker of the Border Marches. Whatever resources, initiatives or amendments to the Border Laws were put in place to counter the disreputable practices of the Reivers, the strife and confrontation rolled on apace, even quickened.

One of the more formidable of the Elliot clan at this time was Jock of the Park. Hailing from Copshawholme (modern day Newcastleton), he was renowned for his relentless strikes against the English and, indeed, any of the Scottish clans with whom the Elliots were at feud.

By 1566 Liddesdale, which because of its notoriety had its own Warden, known as Keeper, had such a burgeoning reputation for lawlessness that a Lord Warden of the Marches was appointed. He had just one objective – subdue the unholy Reivers of Liddesdale!

Accordingly, James Hepburn, 4th Earl of Bothwell, Lord High Admiral of Scotland and Duke of Orkney moved south from Edinburgh. He was a man reputed for his fierceness, was fearless in any confrontation, a skilled military man. He was also a particular confidante of the young Mary, Queen of Scots. Rumours of a liaison between the pair were rife.

Bothwell was certain that he would rid the Borders of its worst offenders.

He was, however, to soon find out that position and reputation counted for nothing against the hard, obdurate and wily Border Reivers. At first his success rate was good. He managed to capture the Lairds of Mangerton and Whithaugh and other Armstrongs. Soon these men were festering in the dank hole of the Hermitage castle awaiting summary justice from the illustrious Lord Bothwell.

HERMITAGE CASTLE

When Bothwell heard that Jock of the Park had been seen in the vicinity of Hermitage he pursued him with alacrity. Jock was a prize not to be missed.

Somewhere near the Billhope burn Bothwell encountered Jock, and without any ceremony, shot him from the saddle of his horse. Jock lay motionless on the ground and Bothwell approached, sure he had severely wounded or killed the prostrate Reiver. As he leaned over to take a closer look, Jock sprang to his feet and knifed the astonished Lord. He even managed to cut to the bone the forehead of his foolish adversary before hobbling to his horse and making away.

BILLHOPE COTTAGE. NEAR HERE JOCK KNIFED BOTHWELL

Bothwell’s guard who had witnessed these events from a distance, conveyed the stricken Lord back to Hermitage intent on providing the shelter and succour that he needed for recovery. On the short journey back to the castle Bothwell appeared to be failing fast from loss of blood.

To the surprise of all, once there, they were refused entry. In the short time that they had been away, the Armstrongs had broken free of the hell-hole of a dungeon, and in true Reiver fashion, overpowered the garrison. Even though Bothwell appeared at death’s door they would not let him enter without assurance that their crimes would be forgiven and that a general amnesty should ensue.

Bothwell had no alternative but to agree; the Armstrongs and others walked free and he was to receive the aid he most certainly needed.

Thus Jock of the Park lived to fight another day and the Armstrongs returned to their loved ones.

Twenty-five miles north of the Hermitage, Mary, Queen of Scots was holding a justice court at Jedburgh. When she was told of the plight of Bothwell, she set off on a grey October day to travel the vast expanses of moor, bog and bent to comfort, console and help mend her favourite.

After but a few hours at Hermitage she made the return journey to Jedburgh. Thus she completed a round trip of fifty miles within a day in most inclement weather. Above the Hermitage her horse stumbled at a place still called the Queensmire to this day and she lost a watch which was found over two hundred years later by a farm worker draining the bog.

By the time she arrived back in Jedburgh Mary was so ill with fatigue and cold that it was thought, her being in a high fever and delirious state for day after day, that she would die. She was given the last rites of the Catholic Church.

She survived though as did Bothwell and the next year they were married not long after the murder of her second husband, Henry Lord Darnley, in which Bothwell was implicated.

The pair was to incur the wrath of the protestant Lords, including Mary’s half-brother, Moray, and two battles ensued for control of the country of Scotland.

After the Battle of Carberry Hill, at which not a sword was raised in anger, Bothwell fled north to Orkney purportedly to raise troops for Mary’s cause whilst she was warded in Lochleven castle. They were never to see each other again.

Bothwell was pursued and took ship for Norway to evade his would-be captors.

The ship floundered in a storm and when it eventually reached safe harbour it was soon recognised that one of its crew was special. It took little searching of the cabins to prove that it was Bothwell who sought sanctuary in a foreign land. The king of Norway and Denmark offered him to the Scots in exchange for the Orkney Isles which had been given to Scotland as part of a marriage dowry some one hundred years before. When the Scots refused the bargain Bothwell was incarcerated in Dragsholm castle in Denmark, tied to a post in the dungeons for ten years, it is said. He died of insanity in one version of his pathetic end.

His embalmed body could be seen for centuries in an open top coffin in the village church of Farjeville a few miles from the castle of Dragsholm. In the late 1970′s the lid to the coffin was secured on the order of the Danish monarchy.

Mary escaped from Lochleven and confronted the Protestant Lords yet again at the Battle of Langside where her forces were convincingly beaten.

She fled to England, determined to seek the aid of her cousin, Elizabeth l, in an effort to regain her throne. It was not to be and, after spending nineteen years in ward in various English castles and secure country houses, she was beheaded after conspiring to break free and overthrow the English monarchy.

She was to often remark during her time in captivity that she wished she had died at Jedburgh.

Given the obscene ordeal that was to end Bothwell’s life it is probably true that he reflected on his confrontation with Jock of the Park and wished that he had died listening to the burble of the Billhope burn.

Little Jock Elliot of the Park had a lot to answer for.

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Johnstone crest

One of the visitors to our site told us about this great Clan Johnstone legend:

The Battle of Dryfe Sands on the 6th of December, 1593 saw the Johnstones and the Maxwells fight it out near the town of Lockerbie.

On the day of the battle Lady Johnstone went out with her maidservant to see how it was all going. She locked up the castle and took the castle key with her (which was a huge iron number). During her walk she came across a ‘regal looking man’, badly wounded and propped up against a tree. He stretched out a hand and begged for her help. He was Lord Maxwell.

Upon recognising her husband’s enemy Lady Johnstone promptly stoved the man’s head in with the castle key.

There is another version of how Lord Maxwell died that day.

Dryfe Sands battle site

The Maxwells were desperate to rid the land of their sworn enemy the Johnstones, and so decided to launch a surprise attack. However, fortunately for Sir James Johnstone, he was somehow warned of the approaching Maxwells. He knew that this was going to be a desperate fight for their existence and so hurriedly called for some assistance from the Grahams, Scotts, Carrutherses, Irvings, Elliots and others, and managed to raise an army of, perhaps, around 800 men.

It said that Lord Maxwell offered a reward to whichever man could bring either the hand or the head of Sir James. Upon hearing this Johnstone made a similar pledge.

On the 6th of December Lord Maxwell and his army approached the Johnstone town of Lockerbie, near a place called Dryfe Sands. Johnstone came up with a plan, and, as the Maxwells marched on, he kept most of his men hidden, only sending out a small number of horsemen to attract the attention of the Maxwell vanguard, and then rout.

The plan worked and the vanguard broke its ranks chasing after the Johnstone horsemen, allowing the main body of Johnstone men to make a surprise attack on the disorganised and surprised Maxwells.

The Johnstones went on to slaughter around 700 Maxwells, and those they didn’t kill were slashed in the face with a sword, recieving horrible wounds which were to become known as ‘Lockerbie Licks’.

During the carnage, it is said that Lord Maxwell begged for his life, offering to surrender. He stretched out his hand, and instead of accepting it, Sir James Johnstone cut off the arm and then killed him.

Legend has it that Johnstone kept the arm and head of Lord Maxwell as trophies, reminding everyone of their decisive victory against the Maxwells.

Whichever way Lord Maxwell did die, whether he was bludgeoned by Lady Maxwell and her castle key, or if he was slain by the sword of Sir James Johnstone, one thing that is for sure, it probably wasn’t a pleasant death.

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