"Blood Libel"

The death of Hugh of Lincoln led to the arrests of so many Jews because of the belief in "blood libel": that the Jews stole/kidnapped/murdered Christians to use their blood in Jewish rituals.

Where this idea started—and why it was readily believed—is hard to pin down. A 10th century Byzantine encyclopedia called the Souda has an entry that "every seven years the Jews captured a stranger, brought him to the temple in Jerusalem, and sacrificed him, cutting his flesh into bits." A 5th century story by Socrates Scholasticus 

Some thought that the Jews were recreating the Crucifixion, but stories of Jews sacrificing non-Jews are older than Christianity. The 1st century Greco-Egyptian writer Apion told the story of Mithridates entering a temple in Jerusalem in the 2nd century BCE and finding a Greek held captive who explained that he was being fattened for sacrifice.

Blood libel accusations in medieval Europe increased at the time of the Crusades, when pro-Christian/anti-Jewish sentiment was spiking. The Crusades also included attempts to force conversion on Jews which were countered by Jews killing their own children to prevent them from suffering conversion. If Jews could kill their own children, the thinking went, then they would have no trouble killing others' children. (In fact, collective homicide/suicide goes back to Masada and was seen more recently—"recent" compared to the Hugh of Lincoln incident, that is—in the Clifford's Tower incident.

There was, of course, a known precedent for Jews to cause children to bleed, and that was the bris, the circumcision ceremony. One such ceremony was tied to another accusation of blood libel. As grisly as the concept is, I want to give some more examples of "little saints" like William of Norwich and Robert of Bury. First, however, let's discuss the case of Harold of Gloucester, where the accusation led to no real action except to...finance a war? I'll try to make sense of that tomorrow.

Little Saint Hugh of Lincoln

The murder of a child is a particularly heinous act that tugs at the heart strings. In the eyes of society, the murderer of a child must be a particularly horrible individual. The death of a small English boy in 1255 created a story that stuck in the cultural memory right up until modern times.

On 31 July 1255, nine-year-old Hugh disappeared in Lincoln. A month later, on 29 August, his body was discovered in a well. The search for the murderer was on, and attention turned to the segment of society that was often blamed for criminal acts: Jews.

John of Lexington, brother to the Bishop of Lincoln, imprisoned a local Jew named Copin, accusing him of the murder and offering him amnesty from execution in exchange for a confession. John supposedly convinced King Henry III to this amnesty deal, even though there was no evidence that Copin actually committed the deed. Henry arrived in Lincoln a month after the arrest of Copin. He ordered Copin executed, and then had 90 randomly selected Jews arrested and taken to the Tower of London for an investigation and trial about the murder. Eighteen of the Jews refused to participate in the trial, claiming it was a sham, and were hanged for their refusal.

As for the remaining Jews: a Dominican friar helped free one, John, who had converted to Christianity. The remainder were condemned to execution, but Dominicans—no doubt understanding that it was highly unlikely that there was actual guilt involved—pleaded for their lives and they were released.

Matthew Paris created a colorful, detailed, and wholly fictitious scene about the death:

This year [1255] about the feast of the apostles Peter and Paul [27 July], the Jews of Lincoln stole a boy called Hugh, who was about eight years old. After shutting him up in a secret chamber, where they fed him on milk and other childish food, they sent to almost all the cities of England in which there were Jews, and summoned some of their sect from each city to be present at a sacrifice to take place at Lincoln, in contumely and insult of Jesus Christ. For, as they said, they had a boy concealed for the purpose of being crucified; so a great number of them assembled at Lincoln, and then they appointed a Jew of Lincoln judge, to take the place of Pilate, by whose sentence, and with the concurrence of all, the boy was subjected to various tortures. They scourged him till the blood flowed, they crowned him with thorns, mocked him, and spat upon him; each of them also pierced him with a knife, and they made him drink gall, and scoffed at him with blasphemous insults, and kept gnashing their teeth and calling him Jesus, the false prophet. And after tormenting him in diverse ways they crucified him, and pierced him to the heart with a spear. When the boy was dead, they took the body down from the cross, and for some reason disemboweled it; it is said for the purpose of their magic arts.

There had been previous "martyrs" whose deaths had been blamed on Jews, but the case of Hugh had royal involvement which elevated it to legendary status. A shrine was built at Lincoln Cathedral to the little martyr and "little saint," drawing visitors and donations. This may well have been Lexington's motivation for turning the child's death into a martyrdom at Jewish hands, acting on his brother's behalf, to increase traffic and money to Lincoln.

Why did Paris' description involve so many Jews? Why were 90 Jews rounded up by the king? Why was it assumed that there was more involvement than just a single murderer? To understand that, we have to talk about one of the most ridiculous accusations against medieval Jewry, the belief in "blood libel." See you tomorrow.

Financing a War

When Simon de Montfort wanted to kick off the Second Barons War, he needed funding. One of the easiest ways for most medieval Europeans to free up money was to force a cancellation of debts to the Jews. Since many of these debts were owed by Montfort's baronial friends, their gratitude would extend to supporting him against King Henry III.

One of the barons' demands of Henry was that he write off the Jewish debts. This he would not do: Henry used occasional tallages (taxes) on the Jews to fund his own endeavors. His healthy balance sheet needed Jews to be able to collect what was owed them so that he could access take it.

In April of 1264, Montfort encouraged his followers and others to begin widespread persecution and even execution of the Jews, destroying their records of debt. One of the main centers of the Jewish population in England was in Canterbury, where about 20 Jewish households accounted for about 100 or so Jews. There had been, in fact, a widespread persecution of the Jews a couple years earlier, when lay and clerical citizens attacked and burned some of their houses, although no one was killed that time.

A member of Montfort's rebellion, the brutal Gilbert de Clare, occupied Canterbury and instigated "The Massacre of the Jews." An unknown number of Jews were killed and their property looted, and several Jewish women were forcibly baptized. Any remaining Jews fled Canterbury. The most prominent member of the Canterbury Jewry was Solomon, son of Josce. When he returned in 1265 (he fled abroad during the troubles), Henry III returned his property to him.

Montfort's son Henry and the 6th Earl of Derby, Robert Ferrers, led a pogrom that killed all the Jews in Worcester. Montfort's son Simon led the attacks in Winchester. In London, a chief Montfort supporter, John Fitz John, led the attacks and is said to have killed two of the leading Jewish figures with his bare hands; a total of 500 Jews in London were killed. In 1264 and 1265, attacks were made in Lincoln and Cambridge, and financial records were destroyed.

Anti-Jewish sentiment was always bubbling just under the surface, looking for a reason to burst forth and lead to atrocities. There were often single incidents that were blamed on the Jews. Even if that blame was proven false, the ill feeling left its mark and was ready to be invoked to justify later attacks. One such that stayed in the public consciousness and could not be expunged was the story of little Saint Hugh of Lincoln, which I will share with you tomorrow.

War Comes to Oxford

By the early 1260s, Oxford had become a place where scholars went to teach and learn. Violence was not unknown, as conflicts between students and townspeople were common. Town vs. Gown is not only a common phrase to express this conflict, it was the very first post in this blog.

Oxford became a center for another conflict, however, at the same time that the colleges of Balliol and Merton were beginning. This conflict was a little more widespread and is called the Second Barons War.

The First Barons War was a rebellion against King John and led to the Magna Carta in 1215. John's son Henry III had his own troubles with the barons who were always looking for ways to increase their own power and reduce the king's authority. Simon de Montfort, the 6th Earl of Leicester, in April 1263 called fellow barons to meet him at Oxford where they discussed rebellion against Henry's policies.

Oxford was a significant meeting place, because a few years earlier it was the site of the Provisions of Oxford, a series of reforms forced on Henry in 1258 in exchange for the barons agreeing to shore up the royal treasury (Henry had depleted it fighting in Sicily on behalf of the pope). The barons and their armies marched on London and trapped Henry in the Tower, taking him prisoner. Montfort took over the government, but his authority did not last long and Henry escaped.

Henry reached out to Louis IX of France to arbitrate. Simon de Montfort agreed to this. Louis declared the Provisions of Oxford annulled in January 1264. Henry prepared for the inevitable breakdown of negotiations and took his forces to Oxford (more centrally located than London) and made it his military headquarters. On 12 March in 1264 he suspended all teaching until Michaelmas (29 September).

Montfort, wishing to make sure he had funds to fight a war, did what many medieval nobles did: he made sure people would have money and be grateful to give it to him by eliminating their cash debts. He did this by attacks against Jews, the moneylenders, and therefore ensuring that debts would not have to be repaid. Let us go into some of the specific atrocities tomorrow.

Who Was First at Oxford?

The claim of Balliol College to be the first college at Oxford has been challenged by both University College and Merton College. Balliol was believed to be founded in 1263; in 1266 a royal writ exists that refers to Balliol in that its existence depends upon money from John Balliol.

Merton College can also trace its origins to the 1260s. Walter Merton was Bishop of Rochester and chancellor to Henry III and later Edward I. He wanted to create an independent college and set up funds to keep it self-governing. Officially, it was founded in 1264, and it claims to be the oldest college in Oxford. Its argument is that it had statutes as of 1264, whereas Balliol did not get a set of statutes until set up by Dervorguilla of Galloway (John Balliol's widow) in 1282.

University College has a grand claim: that it was founded by Alfred the Great (849-899) in 872. They attribute their college arms to Alfred and celebrated their millennium in 1872. More realistically, it was founded by William of Durham. William was archdeacon of Caux in northern Normandy. When students rioted at the University of Paris in 1229, he may have been the leader of students who left the continent and settled in Oxford. What is true is that he died in 1249 and left 310 marks in his will to support scholars in Oxford for the study exclusively of theology (this changed in the 16th century). University College was not officially recognized, however, until c.1280.

So which one has the better claim to be the oldest college in Oxford? Is it decided by who first devoted funds to scholars whether or not they were officially recognized  (University)? Or the first to have official statutes (Merton)? Or the first recognized by a royal document that acknowledges the name and existence of the institution despite the lack of statutes (Balliol)?

It's all one to me. It is interesting, though, to look at what else was happening in 1263 and 1264 in Oxford, what with Henry III suspending classes in March 1264 when he occupied the city. Check back tomorrow and I'll explain.

John Balliol and Balliol College

John I Balliol (died 25 October 1268) was an English nobleman. He married Dervorguilla of Galloway, whose extensive lands (inherited from her family) made her (and by extension, him) very wealthy. He was asked by Henry III of England to take a role as protector of the young Alexander III, King of Scotland. He supported Henry when the Barons were rebelling, and was captured by them at the Battle of Lewes, but escaped and rejoined Henry later.

Balliol and Dervorguilla had many children. Among them was John, who became King of Scotland (though not for long). Their daughter Eleanor married John II Comyn, head of the most powerful family in Scotland, who supported the younger John's ascension to the throne.

The Balliol family had long disputed certain lands in the village of Sadberge in Durham from which the Bishops of Durham believed they were owed the rents. This came to a head between John Balliol and Bishop of Durham Walter of Kirkham in 1260, when (so the legend says) Balliol abducted the bishop. Balliol's penance was to provide funds for the education of young men. In 1263 he rented a house in the suburbs of Oxford to accommodate poor students.

A royal writ in 1266 mentions the institution in Oxford as dependent on Balliol's financial support. After his death, Dervorguilla made several donations that maintained and expanded the "House of the Scholars of Balliol." It was given a set of statutes in 1282.

There were originally 16 students who received eight pence per week to live on. A century later, its headmaster was John Wycliffe, translator into English of the Bible and a church reformer. In the 1400s, Bishop of Ely William Gray donated (gathered from his travels) the single largest collection of medieval manuscripts in England.

Balliol College is the oldest continuously run college in the English-speaking world. Or is it? Despite the story of its founding, there are two other colleges who claim they are the oldest in Oxford. Let's compare their claims tomorrow and ask the question: what makes a start date official?

The Fight for Scotland Concludes

(See Parts One and Two)

After rejecting the claims of others, The Great Cause concluded that John Balliol was the most appropriate choice for King of Scotland. Primogeniture was in his favor: he was the descendant of the eldest surviving child of Margaret of Huntingdon, the eldest daughter of David, Earl of Huntingdon, son of Henry, son of King David I. David had begun the tradition (familiar in England) of dynastic inheritance. Balliol supported the idea that Scotland was an indivisible kingdom and should not be split up, an approach the assembled nobles of Scotland preferred.

On 17 November 1292, Edward I of England announced the choice of Balliol, who was acceptable to the majority of nobles as well as John II Comyn, the most powerful baron and Balliol's brother-in-law. Even some of the supporters of Robert Bruce agreed to the decision.

At this point in his life, John Balliol was in his early-to-mid 40s. His father, John, 5th Baron of Balliol, had founded Balliol College in Oxford. He owned extensive estates in Galloway from his mother's side and English estates from the Huntingdon side, as well as properties in France.

His coronation did not put Scotland's rule back on an even keel. Edward's help was also seen as interference, and Edward continued to undermine Balliol's authority. He demanded homage; he insisted on authority over any legal disputes between Scottish and English subjects. Scots lost faith in King John, and gave him the nickname Toom Tabard ("empty coat"). To be fair, the nickname might not have referred to him lacking in authority, but might have been because the Balliol arms were a fairly simple escutcheon. (The illustration from 1562 shows the Balliol arms, but also mocks his situation with a broken scepter.)

Balliol might have thought making a treaty with France was a good idea and showed initiative and independence, but that did not sit well with Edward. Edward invaded Scotland in the first move of a trend that lasted into the early 14th century and has been named the Wars of Scottish Independence. Balliol abdicated in July 1296 after some bad military defeats. He was taken to the Tower of London, but in 1299 was allowed to go to France. He died at a family estate in Hélicourt, succeeded by a son, Edward, who later had some small successes at trying to claim the throne. John Balliol was succeeded as King of Scotland by Robert the Bruce, grandson of the Robert Bruce whose claim was rejected in favor of Balliol's.

Tomorrow let's look away from the mess in Scotland and head south to Oxford and Balliol College.

The Fight for Scotland Continues

(Part One) So the 13 claimants for the throne of Scotland came down to the four most likely candidates.

The An t-Adhbhar Mòr (Scottish Gaelic, "The Great Cause"), a group of 104 men plus King Edward I of England, would hear all the claimants and determine who should ascend to the throne. This was modeled on the centumviri (Latin "hundred men"), the court of 105 used in Roman Law to settle questions of succession to property. They included 24 of Edward's council.

One of the points that needed to be decided by the Great Cause was the primacy of primogeniture (of which there were different interpretations) or customary law. Primogeniture could be male-preference or any first-born child. "Customary law" would split the parent's possessions among the children. The four chief claimants, who hired lawyers to speak on their behalf, were as follows:

• John Balliol, Lord of Galloway
• Robert Bruce, 5th Lord of Annandale
• John Hastings, 1st Baron Hastings
• Floris V, Count of Holland

Floris V's great-great-grandmother was Ada, a daughter of Henry, Earl of Huntingdon, who was son of King David I of Scotland. Floris claimed that when William the Lion was king, William's brother David had abandoned his right to the throne of Scotland by accepting the title of Earl of Huntingdon. This would invalidate the claims of the three other men listed above, who were all descended from Earl David. The problem was he had no proof, and assured the investigators that there must be records of this in Scotland itself if they would only search. At the orders of Edward I of England, they did search, and found nothing after several months to support his claim. Floris abandoned his claim in summer of 1292.

John Hastings was also descended from Ada, daughter of David, Earl of Huntingdon. He was an Englishman with a distinguished pedigree who in 1290 was summoned to Parliament and made a peer as Lord Hastings. His genealogical claim wasn't strong, so he took a legal approach. He argued that Scotland was not a proper kingdom, since it was only recently that its rulers were crowned and anointed. Therefore, there was no need to hand an intact kingdom over to a single person, and customary law allowed it to be split up among the heirs. The Great Cause did not take much deliberation to reject this idea and dismiss Hastings' claim.

Robert Bruce was the closest in blood to the now-defunct dynasty that started with David I. His lawyers also claimed that Alexander III (whose death started this whole difficulty) had named Bruce as his heir at a time when there seemed to be no other option. It's also worth pointing out that Bruce (as well as Balliol) had jumped at the chance to make a claim as soon as news of Margaret's death was known. Bruce argued against Floris's claim that the kingdom could be split, declaring that Scotland was indivisible and primogeniture should apply. Unfortunately for that claim, John of Balliol was descended from a child (Margaret) of David of Huntingdon who was older than the child (Isobel) from whom Bruce was descended. King Edward ruled that primogeniture through eldest surviving child pertained, and Bruce was dismissed. (Note: Edward had already established that England would be inherited by his eldest, a daughter, if he had no sons; absolute primogeniture, which means the sex of the child doesn't matter, was on his mind.)

Edward's determination of Bruce's claim happened in November 1292. Then there was a "November Surprise": Floris re-asserted his claim, and Bruce showed up to offer his public support of Floris! Floris decided to argue that the documents that would support him must have been stolen and his case should be reconsidered. As for Bruce, he did a 180° turn on the indivisibility of the kingdom. It seemed that he and Floris had probably made a deal: if Floris won, Bruce would be given a chunk of Scotland. Floris' claim was thrown out again for lack of evidence.

You can probably guess who became the next King of Scotland, and we will definitely present that case tomorrow, but today I leave you with an interesting footnote that explains the illustration.

The illustration above is of Pluscarden Abbey, currently a Catholic Benedictine monastery near Elgin, Moray. It was founded by Alexander II for the now-defunct Valliscaulian Order, which was absorbed by the Cistercians in the 18th century. In The Hague, Netherlands, there is a "certified" copy of a document that claims exactly what Floris claimed, signed and dated 1291 by the Bishop of Moray. It was supposedly found at Pluscarden Abbey. It is, of course, considered a forgery by all (I assume; there may be descendants of Floris V who have other thoughts).

See you soon.

The Fight for Scotland Begins

After the death of Alexander III of Scotland and his granddaughter, Margaret, the problem of who would rule Scotland rose again in September of 1290. Thirteen claimants came forward, including a half-hearted attempt by Margaret's father, Eric II of Norway.

Of the claimants, all but one were linked to King David I of Scotland—even Edward I was descended from David's sister, Matilda—mostly through David's son Henry, the Earl of Huntingdon. 

Many of the claimants were related by "natural birth"; that is, they were from extramarital affairs by Henry of Huntingdon or by David's son William the Lion. Two of the claimants took action immediately after hearing the news of Margaret's death. John Balliol forged an alliance with Edward's representative in England, Bishop of Durham Antony Bek. Robert Bruce went to Scone with an army, looking to demand the throne from the Guardians of Scotland, who had assembled there to greet Margaret on her arrival.

The Guardians of Scotland, a group of six regents who managed the kingdom after the death of Alexander, appealed to Edward I of England for his assistance and support. Edward offered to help, but used the opportunity to gain something for himself: declaring Scotland's king as a vassal of England's king, and Scotland no longer an independent kingdom. Rather than offer evidence from the past that he was the feudal overlord of Scotland, he asked the Guardians to provide evidence that he was not. The Guardians replied that (being kingless) they had no one with the authority to agree with his claim.

Edward was not happy with this reply, but since they still needed his help, he was able to get the Guardians to agree to some lesser claims. They would agree that Edward was their rightful overlord, but not that this applied to the whole country. Edward also took control of the principal royal castles in this interim, with the understanding that everything would be returned to a king, once Scotland had one.

They instituted what was called An t-Adhbhar Mòr (Scottish Gaelic, "The Great Cause"), a group of 104 men who, with Edward, would review all the claimants and choose the next king.

The strongest claims were from four men:

• John Balliol, Lord of Galloway
• Robert Bruce, 5th Lord of Annandale
• John Hastings, 1st Baron Hastings
• Floris V, Count of Holland

Tomorrow we will look over these four claimants, and announce a winner.

False Margaret

The child Margaret, Maid of Norway, was the only surviving heir of King Alexander III of Scotland. After some contention, she was finally recognized (with England's support) as the rightful queen. Unfortunately, while on the ship bringing her to Scotland from her home in Norway (her mother had married King Eric II of Norway) she fell ill. The ship put in at Orkney, and she died a few days later. The ship did not continue to Scotland where the Scottish nobles were waiting at Scone to hold a coronation; it went back to Norway, where her father had her buried. The was in September of 1290, when Margaret was only four years old.

In 1300, a ship from Lübeck, Germany, docked at Bergen, Norway, and a woman came ashore who claimed she was Margaret and accused several people of treason. Her claim was that she was sold by the wife of Baron Tore Håkonsson, who had been a royal escort on the ship to Scotland, and taken to Germany where she married.

The real Margaret's father, Eric II, had died the year before, and the current king, Erik's brother Haakon V, sent soldiers to arrest them. An investigation ensued.

Her claim was absurd. Eric had insisted on opening the coffin to identify Margaret when the body was returned to Norway. Also, the "False Margaret" was a woman about 40 years old, when the real Margaret would still have been a teenager! Still, people are always ready to believe a good conspiracy theory, and the story of False Margaret and her husband spread quickly. Some of the people willing to believe her may have simply been enemies of King Haakon, looking for a wedge to drive between him and Norwegians.

A year later, False Margaret was burned at the stake for treason; her husband was beheaded. The conspiracy did not die, however. Near the place where she was executed, a small church was built years later called Margaretaskirk ("Margaret's Church"), and a small local martyr cult formed. The church no longer exists, probably demolished during the Reformation.

Meanwhile, back in Scotland...

Maid of Norway, Queen of Scotland?

When King Alexander III of Scotland died unexpectedly, the only heir to the throne was his granddaughter in Norway, Margaret. He had named her his heir in 1286 after the deaths of his three children. She was three years old at the time, too young to travel to Scotland, so remained in Norway with her father, King Eric II. Her mother, Alexander's daughter Margaret, had died due to complications from childbirth, and her father was still in his teens.

Eric had little of his own royal authority, and was being managed by the bishop of Bergen, who also was shepherding Margaret's upbringing. In Scotland, six regents were chosen to manage the kingdom. They were also biding their time about the succession because of another wrinkle: before his death, Alexander's second wife, Yolande de Dreux, had become pregnant, and if she gave birth, that child would be a candidate in direct succession. In the meantime, there were two men who wanted to claim the throne: Robert Bruce (grandfather of Robert the Bruce), Lord of Annandale, and John Balliol, Lord of Galloway. Their claims were put aside by the Scottish Parliament

Yolande's child was stillborn. Robert Bruce rebelled, but was defeated. Months later, a representative from Norway arrived in Scotland to claim the kingdom for Margaret. The tensions in Scotland made Eric reluctant to send his daughter there. Instead, he sent envoys to Edward I of England to discuss the situation and Margaret's future. Edward's sister, Margaret of England, had been Alexander's first wife, and so Edward was great-uncle to the young Margaret. England also had a lot of interest in whomever was ruling Scotland.

In autumn of 1289, the six regents of Scotland, Robert Bruce, and English and Norwegians envoys met at Salisbury to discuss the situation. The resulting Treaty of Salisbury was signed on 1 November. It stated:

• Margaret was queen and heir to Scotland
• Edward would act on her behalf to ensure her authority
• Margaret would, in one year's time, go to Scotland, or England if Scotland was still contentious
• Once Edward was assured that Scotland was safe for her, Edward would deliver Margaret
• Edward had the right to choose her husband (although Eric could veto)

Edward also requested, and was granted, a papal dispensation that would allow Margaret to marry Edward of Caernarfon (Edward's son and therefore her cousin). Edward obviously intended his own son to become King of Scotland.

The next year, in August, a ship was prepared to take Margaret to Scotland. The bishop of Bergen and a royal advisor, Baron Tore Håkonsson, escorted her. The ship landed at Orkney on or about 23 September. It remained there, because Margaret had fallen ill on the journey. The symptoms matched motion sickness, but once on land, she remained ill, and died in the bishop's arms between 26 and 29 September, possibly from food poisoning. The waiting delegates at Scone never saw her; a coronation never happened. The body was returned to Bergen, and she was buried by Eric at the cathedral in Bergen.

She was the last in the direct line of succession from William the Lion, which kicked off no fewer than 13 claimants to the throne, including Eric of Norway. Then, about a decade later, a ship docked at Bergen and a woman claiming to be Margaret came ashore with a story to tell. Next time I'll tell you the story of False Margaret.

Alexander's Fatal Marriage

After the death of his first wife, Margaret of England, Alexander III did not marry again for a decade. There was no "need," since he had three children by Margaret, any of whom could inherit the throne. Margaret (born 1261) was married to King Eric II of Norway. Alexander (born 1264) was heir, and David (born 1272) was only three at the time of his mother's death, but was next in line. (Alexander himself had come to the throne in his minority, and a regency council managed things until he was 21.)

Fate had other plans for the children of Alexander and Margaret, however. David died young, in 1281. Margaret died giving birth to her only child, also named Margaret, in 1283 (she was only 22). Then Prince Alexander died in January 1284, a week after he turned 20, leaving a widow and no offspring.

Alexander senior had to act. Now in his 40s, a direct heir would mean marrying again and impregnating a wife, and quickly. In the meantime, he persuaded the Parliament of Scotland to recognize Margaret, his granddaughter in Norway, as his heir. This was in 1284. On 1 November 1285, he contracted marriage with Yolanda de Dreux, the 22-year-old daughter of the Count of Dreux (near the boundary between Normandy and the Île-de-France).

Alexander was far from celibate for the decade between becoming a widower and getting engaged to Yolanda. The Lanercost Chronicle (an online translation is available), produced at the Augustinian Lanercost Priory, covers the years 1201 to 1346 in Northern England and Scotland. Of Alexander's decade as a widower it says:

...he used never to forbear on account of season nor storm, nor for perils of flood or rocky cliffs, but would visit none too creditably nuns or matrons, virgins or widows as the fancy seized him, sometimes in disguise.

Satisfying his carnal desires despite dangerous weather was his undoing, since it seems from the above statement that the next (and last) anecdote of his life was likely the reason for what transpired (or he just wanted to surprise her). On 19 March 1286, the queen was at Kinghorn in Fife. The king was at Edinburgh with his royal advisors. The next day was the queen's birthday. Alexander decided to ride to Kinghorn, a distance of at least 30 miles with the need to cross the Firth of Forth. The March weather was bad, and his advisors tried to dissuade him, but he was determined. He crossed the Forth, and arrived at Inverkeithing. It was dark and stormy, and he insisted on not stopping despite the late hour but continuing the last 10 or so miles. Supposedly one of the burghers in town said:

"My lord, what are you doing out in such weather and darkness? How many times have I tried to persuade you that midnight traveling will do you no good?"

Alexander wouldn't listen, but set off into the dark with a small retinue. At some point he was separated from the retinue. The next morning, near Kinghorn, he was found with a broken neck. The likeliest assumption was that his horse lost its footing in the dark, he was thrown, and therefore never made it to Yolande.

...and that is how a three-year-old Norwegian girl became the Queen of Scotland. Let me tell you about her tomorrow.

Alexander's First Marriage

The marriage of King Alexander III of Scotland and Margaret of England did not start out as a happy one.  As the daughter of King Henry III of England, being married to the king of Scotland meant their offspring would be a significant potential link between the two countries.

The reality was that the groom was 10 years old and the bride was 11. He was managed by a regency council and she was taken to live in Edinburgh where she rarely saw him. Her letters home told of a lonely girl who did not like the gloomy climate and had no friends. Her requests to visit her family in England were refused by the Scottish authorities because they were afraid she would not want to return.

Margaret's mother, Eleanor of Provence, sent her personal physician to Scotland to investigate the situation. This was followed by Henry sending a delegation and demanding that she be treated better. At this point the couple had reached 14 years of age, and it was agreed that they could consummate their marriage and spend more time together as a couple. Henry declared that Alexander needed to reclaim authority from the regency council when he turned 21. He also stipulated that Alexander needed to show Margaret affection and allow Margaret to visit her family. This was in 1255, and in September of that year Henry and family were staying in Wark in Northumberland, where the young couple visited with them. Margaret was allowed to stay longer while Alexander returned to his duties.

Two years later, the king and queen of Scotland were captured by the family of Walter Comyn, Earl of Menteith, who had objected to Alexander's coronation and tried to take power early on before being defeated by loyalists. The demand of the captors was that all foreigners be expelled from Scotland. The regency council and Henry resolved that quickly.

The couple apparently developed a real bond, as some political marriages do, and Alexander enjoyed his time with his wife. They had three children; their daughter, Margaret, married King Eric II of Norway. Margaret died 26 February 1275.

I said in yesterday's post that marriage was the death of Alexander. He survived another 11 years after Margaret's death. It was his affection for his second wife that was his undoing. You will finally get that story next time.

Alexander III

Alexander III of Scotland (4 September 1241 - 19 March 1286) wanted to finally bring all of Scotland and surrounding islands into one unified country, following the dreams of his forebears. This would not happen right away, since he was only seven years old when his father, Alexander II, died and the son was crowned (the illustration is of the coronation from a much later medieval work). His marriage in Christmas Day 1251 to Margaret of England, daughter of King Henry III (she was 11), reinforced relations between Scotland and England. This gave him an ally if he needed military support in his quest.

He announced his intention when he turned 21 and assumed his rights from the regency council. Alexander sent an embassy to Norway and King Haakon IV, who rejected the Scottish claim and planned a military expedition to the islands, anticipating trouble and wanting to set up negotiations. Trouble there was, because Scottish nobles started raiding the Hebrides. In 1263, Haakon and a fleet of 120 ships—a pretty common "negotiating tactic" for Haakon—arrived in the Hebrides in August and met Alexander's forces, settling down to negotiate.

Alexander kept the talks going deliberately to reach a time on the calendar when the weather would make the sea more dangerous. An impatient Haakon attacked in October at the Battle of Largs, but a storm damaged several of his ships and the battle was indecisive. Haakon died not long after, however, and Alexander was able to assert control over the Hebrides. They were formally traded to Scotland by Haakon's successor, Magnus VI, for money in 1266 with the Treaty of Perth.

Alexander's marriage to Margaret is an interesting story. They were too young at the start to consummate the marriage, and Margaret's time in Scotland as a pre-teen was not pleasant. The marriage got better for them, however, until Margaret's death. Alexander re-married, and this second marriage was the death of him. I'll explain tomorrow.

Alexander and Unification of Scotland

King Alexander II of Scotland had a problem: there were strings of islands off his northern and western coasts that he'd like to think of as part of Scotland, but they were controlled by others. The Norse controlled the Shetlands and Orkneys, as well as the Isle of Mann and the Hebrides.

Alexander got caught up in English politics early on, but in the north there was trouble. Adam, the abbot of Melrose and bishop of Caithness, was killed by burning because of a tax of butter he imposed on locals. The Norse ruler, the jarl ("earl") of Orkney, Jon Haraldsson, had supposedly uttered the words "The devil take the bishop and his butter; you may roast him if you please!" Adam was burned at his home on 11 September 1222.

Although Caithness was on the mainland, it was part of the Kingdom of Norway. When word got out of the death and Haraldsson's comment, the blame was put on the jarl. Alexander took an army north, intending to use the death of a mainland subject to assert control over this mainland part of the Orkney kingdom. He hanged most of the farmers and mutilated the rest. Haraldsson swore oaths to his innocence, so Alexander did not pursue further vengeance—but he kept the mainland.

Alexander also brought Argyll (including the Inner Hebrides) under his rule, and ended a revolt in Galloway in 1235. He tried to bring the Isle of Mann and Outer Hebrides into the fold, but he died while planning a military venture there.

That would wait until success by his son, Alexander III. This was not a son by his first wife, King John's daughter, Joan of England. Joan died in 1238, while she was only 27, having not produced an heir. Alexander then married Marie de Coucy (incidentally angering Henry III, because it created a Scottish-French alliance). When their son, Alexander III, turned 21, he pledged to fulfill his father's wish of bringing the western isles into Scotland proper.

How that turned out is a story for tomorrow.