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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Scottish National Portrait Gallery Frieze

As you enter the main hall of the Scottish National Portrait Gallery, 150 titans of Scottish history gaze down at you, providing a dramatic introduction to the subjects awaiting you inside the galleries. This impressive chronological frieze by William Hole begins in the stone age, carrying right through till the late 17th century when the painting was completed.

Situated on the upper floor of the hall amongst the frieze and historical murals sits an interactive exhibit that calculates which figure from Scottish history you are most alike. By entering a series of personality traits and physical attributes, the computer programme will trawl through the gallery’s collection to find you your very own Scottish historical counterpart.

After entering my traits and characteristics, the computer whirred into life and reported back that I am most like Jane Gordon, Duchess of Gordon (c. 1749-1812). The Duchess was a hugely ambitious, outspoken, witty woman who was perhaps most well-known for hosting exquisite and exclusive parties for the Tories. Maybe there was a glitch in the matching system on the day I visited – I’m a rather softly-spoken, creative leftie who would never be caught dead hosting a Tory event.

Jane, Duchess of Gordon and son George – George Romney 1778

‘She looks as fierce as a dragon and contents herself with spending her breath upon politics, and ringing a daily peal in the ears of her poor husband, with whom, Lord William says, she squabbles more than ever.’
- Lady Louisa Stuart on the Duchess of Gordon

Lady Jane Maxwell was born in either 1748 or 1749 to Sir William Maxwell, 3rd Baronet of Monreith, and his wife Magdalene Blair. Sir Maxwell was a drunk who sold most of his 30,000 acre estate in order to make ends meet while Magdalene raised and educated Jane and her other two daughters in a rented flat on Hynford’s Close just off Edinburgh’s Royal Mile. It was quite normal at the time for titled, land-owning Scottish families to send their daughters to Edinburgh where they could receive further education and be launched upon Edinburgh society.

Lady Jane is said to have been a rather boisterous child, with reports stating she would ride on the backs of pigs set loose in the wynds of Edinburgh’s Old Town. At the age of 14, while playing in the High Street in Edinburgh Jane got her finger caught in the wheel of a cart, tearing it clean off. From then on she wore gloves wherever possible with a wooden finger inside. At the age of 16, Jane is said to have been so beautiful that songs were composed in her honour, including Bonnie Jennie of Monreith, the Flower of Galloway. It was around this time that Lady Jane fell in love with a young Fraser officer. Soon after they met, he was shipped to America with his regiment where he was reportedly killed.

In 1767 at 24 years of age Jane married Alexander Gordon, 4th Duke of Gordon and chief of Clan Gordon. It was on their honeymoon that Jane received a note from her lost love stating that he was in fact still alive, asking for her hand in marriage. She is said to have fainted upon reading the note. This episode provided the basis of Ciji Ware’s 1989 book Island of the Swans, based loosely on the life and loves of the Duchess. The couple would go on to become one of Britain’s most well-known power couples of the time, influencing politics, fashion and the upper echelons of British society. They had seven children together, however their marriage quickly proved to be a loveless one, with the Duke and Duchess partaking in multiple affairs.

Gordon Castle circa Jane Gordon’s tenure

The Duchess entertained on a lavish scale at her residence in Edinburgh and the family home of Gordon Castle, one of the largest homes in Scotland. She was the authority of fashion in Edinburgh, regularly hosting soirée evenings where up and coming artists were asked to entertain. It was in her drawing room that Robert Burns first read his poetry to Edinburgh society, with the duchess becoming his chief sponsor and also purchasing all his early published works. In 1780 the Duchess and her family moved to London where she continued to host parties for the Tories with a distinctly Scottish flavour. She championed wearing tartan, which at the time was still outlawed. Friends in high places meant she was able to get away with it – even King George was said to be a big fan of the Duchess.

Gordon Highlanders

Perhaps the most well-known tale of the Jane’s exploits is the part she played in the raising of the Gordon Highlanders. In 1793 the French Revolutionary Government declared war on Britain, however the British Army was largely short of recruits, so the Duke of Gordon was tasked with raising a Scottish highland regiment. The Duchess waged a bet with the Prince Regent, the future King George IV, that she could raise more men than him, and set about her task by employing a rather unusual recruiting drive. Aged 45, Jane traveled about the Gordon estates in Scotland dressed in a military uniform and a large black highland bonnet. Recruits were offered a King’s shilling for joining, with Jane enticing them even more by offering the shilling from her lips in the form of a kiss. The Duchess raised over 940 men, with the regiment existing until 1994.

Despite the unhappiness in her marriage the Duchess took great joy in seeking the best marriage matches for her children. She managed to arrange for three of her five daughters to marry Dukes and even took one of her daughters to Paris to try and secure a marriage with Emperor Josephine’s son. General Cornwallis’ son Lord Brome was considered a suitable match for Louisa, the fourth Gordon daughter. However the General refused to approve the marriage citing madness in the Gordon family. The Duchess is said to have allayed his fears by saying there was not one drop of Gordon blood in this particular daughter – with historians suggesting Jane’s lost love Captain Fraser was the father. Louisa and Lord Brome were married in London in April 1795.

By 1805 the marriage between the Duke and Duchess was officially over, after a lengthy separation during which the duke moved his mistress Jane Christie into Gordon Castle. A financial agreement was reached where the Duke would provide a house and financial security to the Duchess, however he failed to keep his word once he ran into financial strife. The Duchess was forced to live in hotels in the later part of her life and died in 1812 at Poultney’s Hotel, Piccadilly, London, surrounded by her four daughters and surviving son. Her body was taken north to be buried at the old Celtic Chapel by the banks of the Spey at Kinrara. There her husband carried out her final wish and erected a monument to her on which were recorded the marriages of her children.

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Hoddom Castle

Hoddom Castle in Dumfriesshire is one of those places that have a special significance in our families own history. It was here that my mother and father first met while both were stationed there at the end of World War II when the castle was used a a military camp. The castle was never occupied again after the war and has gradually deterioriated to the point where it has become dangerous and the grounds are now home to a sprawling caravan park. A short walk out from the grounds and up a nearby hill takes you to the enigmatic ‘Repentance Tower’ which once stood on the castle’s estate. The tower and the small graveyard it stands in yields some interesting stories about the people who once owned Hoddom Castle and the surrounding lands.

The first curiosity is in its name “Repentance Tower”. Dating from around 1560 local legends suggest that it was built by Baron Herries as a form of atonement for cutting the throats of some English prisoners while on a stormy crossing back over the Solway Firth and dumping the bodies at sea.

Another version of the story however has gained more credibility:

Repentance Tower

During the mid 16th century warfare between Scotland and England was common over this disputed border land. In the 1540s the English had captured Dumfriesshire and forced many to become ‘assured Scots’ pledging allegiance to England and giving up hostages to help them keep their promises. Among these Assured Scots was John, Master of Maxwell. Maxwell had an eye on Agnes Herries and the lands and title that he would inherit on marrying her. However as long as he sided with the English this could never be. At the Battle of Durisdeer Maxwell had turned out for the English but the signal of a black flag was given to his men and they turned against their English allys. The Scots were victorious and the English fled back to Carlisle. Maxwell won the maiden and the title of Lord Herries but paid a heavy price as all but one of the 15 hostages that had been taken to assure his loyalty were executed.

The hill on which the tower stands was once used as the location for part of the chain of defensive beacons which stretched along the border lands to warn of English invasion. The new Lord Herries built this tower on the spot using stones from the ruin of nearby Trailtrow Chapel. Standing not only as a defensive structure the tower would serve as a monument to the hostages who died and as a memorial that showed his personal remorse.

Later the estates passed into the hands of the Murray family and a small graveyard sprung up around the tower. John Murray, who’s family owned lands nearby travelled to America in the 18th century and returned with a young black slave called Moses. As time went on the slave become a close friend of Murray and took on his surname. No longer a slave but a free man he was given the honour of being buried in the family graveyard as an everlasting symbol of their friendship.

The Slaves Grave

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Our tartan ribbon strips are made from very fine weight wool tartan, and are perfect to use for any occasion, be it a christening, wedding, or birthday.

Take a look at our wonderful selection of tartan ribbon … but with slightly better image quality:

Tartan Ribbon

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Whilst the culmination of the feud would result in the Battle of Dryfe Sands which has already been well recorded in these articles, it is more than interesting to consider the events which would lead up to the battle, the biggest family ‘set to’ in British history.

THE FORLORN REMAINS OF LOCHWOOD TOWER. HOME OF THE JOHNSTONES.

The most powerful position in the Border Country during the turbulent times of the Border Reiver was that of March Warden. In the Scottish south-west it was a post which brought a spurious legality to the nefarious activities of the Maxwells and Johstones who vied with each other for decades to rule supreme in the Scottish West March.

The role of Warden was consigned on a too frequent basis from one to the other of the great Border warlords, Maxwell and Johnstone with the result that the Scottish south-west experienced nothing but upheaval, death and mayhem.

At one time, when the King appointed a Johnstone, the Maxwell Laird told his clan and followers to ignore the dictates of the new Warden. At another a Johnstone laird died, it is said, heartbroken that yet again Maxwell was to take the role.

There are thus many recorded instances of the hatred that existed between the two families during the sixteenth century but none would compare with the events that unfolded from the stealing of ‘ane black horse’.

In 1593 a small party of Johnstones, five in all, made their way to the head of Nithsdale in the twilight of a July evening, to the Crichton stronghold there, and stole a black mare from the stables. The theft was witnessed by Lord Crichton and his followers who immediately pursued the Johnstone raiders.

Whilst four of the five Johnstones easily evaded pursuit, their trustworthy nags more than a match for the uneven and rocky ground which confronted them in their descent down the valley, one, known as the ‘Galliard’, not content with stealing the black mare, had determined to ride it home to Wamphrey in Annandale. He little knew that the fine looking beast was partially blind and that it would stumble and fret and be unsure of its footing as he spurred it into action to distance himself from the chase.

He was soon ridden down, bound to his horse, and conveyed to the nearest tree where he was hanged without any ceremony.

The other four Johnstones, hiding nearby, witness to the summary justice and now led by Willie of Kirkhill, vowed vengeance for the death of one of their own.

Within a short time, without informing their leader, James Johnstone of Dunskellie, they had raided Crichton lands, burned farms and villages, stolen insight (household and farming gear) and murdered fifteen of the Crichton clansmen. The offenders then went into hiding, miles from their homelands of Wamphrey.

Lord Crichton, well aware of both the advantages and limitations of the Border Law, sought redress through advances to his March Warden John, Lord Maxwell.

Sir James Johnstone, holder of a special commission from the King for exacting justice among his own clan, vowed to try his recalcitrant kinsmen himself. He refused to hand them over to the Maxwells.

Though Maxwell had previously been keen to see an end to the Johnstones of Annandale, he was reluctant to act without due consideration of the amity that now existed between the two clans. Before the present trouble it seemed that their differences would be resolved thus he called for time to seriously consider the matter.

Crichton was infuriated at the dalliance and journeyed to Edinburgh to petition the King, James VI. He well knew of James’ penchant for prevarication, and seizing the issue with both hands, he advertised the crimes of the Johnstone clan in a novel way to the common folk of Edinburgh.

He spoke loudly and vehemently at the Mercat Cross, inviting the populace to listen to his plea for justice. Moreover, within his followers from Sanquar, were the wives and girl friends of the fifteen men who had been murdered in the Johnstone raids on his lands in reprisal for the hanging of the ‘Galliard’. They brought out the blood-stained sarks (shirts) of the dead ones and paraded them up to the castle and back to Holyrood House. By the time they arrived there, many of the Edinburgh folk had joined the throng. All bayed for justice.

James VI was now quick to act and a proclamation at the Mercat Cross seemed to seal the fate of Sir James Johnstone. The King demanded that Johnstone hand himself over to Maxwell before trial in Edinburgh. Should he refuse to be taken then Maxwell was given a free hand to use what force he saw fit.

Matters took a new turn when the Lairds of Closeburn, Lag, Drumlanrig and the Crichtons offered to be bonded to Maxwell in ‘manrent’ , in effect become his vassals. They were prepared to do this because, whilst outwardly throwing their force behind Maxwell and thus adding to his already almost omnipotent hold on the south-west of Scotland , they, themselves, wished to see an end to all the Johnstones of Annandale.

Maxwell signed the deeds of manrent yet was not happy with his decision.

CAERLAVEROCK CASTLE. STRONGHOLD OF THE MAXWELLS.

It was all to come to a head and lead to the Battle of Dryfe Sands when the parchment detailing the agreement between Maxwell and the scheming Lairds was found by a kitchen maid. She could not read but was entranced by the flowery writing and the magnificent colours used. Rather than burn it she took it to her uncle who recognised the name Johnstone on the parchment. Very soon it was in Sir James’ hands.

The die was cast. The result – the humiliation of the Maxwells at the ensuing battle. The story was not to end with Dryfe Sands in 1593.

Fifteen years later in 1608, the son of the John, Lord Maxwell, who was to die at Dryfe Sands held out the hand of friendship to Sir James Johnstone, still at that time, head of the clan, and requested that the latter meet him to resolve their differences.

There were only four men present; Maxwell, Johnstone and a servant of each. The servants drew aside whilst Maxwell and Johnstone talked of how to overcome the animosity which presided over the two clans.

All of a sudden the two servants started to argue and Johnstone walked towards them to intervene in their differences. As he moved he had his back to Maxwell who pulled a pistol from beneath his cloak and shot Johnstone twice in the back. He fell dead.

BORDER REIVERS AT LANGHOLM CASTLE. (Painting courtesy of Bill Ewart of Langholm.)

Maxwell fled abroad. His crime was that of treason as the meeting had been convened under terms which ensured the safety of all present. In 1612 he made his way back to the north of Scotland but was recognised and reported by a near relative. He was beheaded in Edinburgh. Thus in the short space of twenty-five years, between 1587 and 1612, four of the clan leaders of the Maxwells and Johnstones were to die because of a clan feud which took a century to resolve.

The post The Maxwell Johnstone Feud-The Theft of Ane Black Horse and the Aftermath appeared first on ScotClans | Scottish Clans.

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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