The Ayrshire Vendetta by Margaret Skea

The Ayrshire Vendetta.

It is 440 years since the Massacre of Annock. Though not an unusual occurrence in the lawlessness of Scotland in the 16th century, that event, and particularly the extent and ferocity of the reprisals that followed, marked the beginning of a change in attitude towards blood feud. 

‘Blood feud was the custom of the times.’ So wrote William Robertson in Ayrshire. Its History (1908) 

Of course, feuding between Scottish clans wasn’t a new phenomenon, nor did it entirely end with the 16th century, and it certainly wasn’t confined to Ayrshire. There are many well-documented, long-standing feuds between families throughout Scotland, from the Scotts and Kers in the Borders, to the Campbells and MacDonalds in the west and the Gordons and Stewarts in the Highlands. However the Ayrshire Vendetta, as it became known, is a classic example; the Cunninghame and Montgomerie families later dubbed the ‘Montagues and Capulets’ of Ayrshire. 

All that remains of Eglinton castle – Primary residence of the Earl of Eglinton – head of  the Montgomerie family.

Nothing remains of Kilmaurs, the seat of the Cunninghame family.

Various factors contributed to a culture in which violence was considered the most appropriate manner of dealing with dispute. Foremost was the weakness of the Crown.  Of the seven Scottish monarchs of the 15th and 16th centuries, only one (James IV, aged 15 when he became king) was able to rule in his own right from accession. Of the others, three inherited the throne as infants (James V, Mary Queen of Scots and James VI) and two at less than ten (James II and III), while James I, aged twelve, was captured, still uncrowned, and detained in England for eighteen years.  As a result the years of successive minorities were characterized by a nobility jostling for precedence and for control of the monarchy, allied to a general acceptance of the rule of ‘might’ regardless of ‘right’.

On his accession in 1488 James IV set out to establish stable government at local level, appointing representatives in each district to dispense justice. A laudable aim, marred in Ayrshire by an error of judgement, when he passed control of the bailiwick of Cunninghame to Hugh, Lord Montgomerie, thus sparking the 150 + year feud. 

Although the original affront had been to the Cunninghames, the first blow in the feud was the sacking of Kerelaw - a Cunninghame tower situated in the midst of Montgomerie territory.  The years that followed were punctuated by repeated acts of brutality and murder on both sides, separated by periods of temporary quiet. 

In 1505 Cunninghame of Craigens was attacked and wounded by the Master of Montgomerie; and in 1507 the Cunninghames retaliated, attacking the newly created Montgomerie Earl of Eglinton, with lives lost on both sides. 

Meanwhile the issue of the bailiwick became the subject of arbritation, the decision in favour of Eglinton in 1509 failing to satisfy the Earl of Glencairn, head of the Cunninghames. 

However, as is so often the case when a country is threatened by an external enemy, private grievances are set aside. So it was in the years before Flodden, clans uniting in the face of the English threat. The Scottish losses, whether one accepts the lower estimate of 5,000 or the higher one of 10,000, decimated the nobility and left the country once again with an infant king. 

                           Site of Flodden Battlefield – very atmospheric even today. 

It is interesting to note that though both Eglinton and Glencairn were on the same side in the unsuccessful conspiracy to depose the Duke of Albany, Regent for James V, it failed to diminish the ill-feeling between the two families.  Just four years later, in 1517, hostilities flared again with the wounding of John, Master of Montgomerie and the killing of his followers. Though Albany extracted an agreement from both factions to lay aside their quarrels, it served only to delay revenge, Cunninghame of Auchenharvie and of Waterston becoming the next victims.  

These tit-for-tat murders led to one of the most significant episodes in the vendetta, when in 1528 a large force of Cunninghames rode through Montgomerie territory, causing wholesale destruction: decimating crops, stealing and killing stock and burning the dwellings, leaving the tenantry penniless and homeless. The raids culminated in the burning of Eglinton castle itself, destroying all the contents, including tapestries, furniture, paintings, armaments and most important of all, family records going back as far as the Norman Conquest, as well as their Charter to the Montgomerie lands. This time the Montgomerie earl, perhaps tired of violence, or feeling his increasing age, accepted a cash settlement as compensation, and for a period of almost sixty years there are no records of atrocities, though whether as a result of external pressures or a genuine attempt at peace is hard to gauge.  

The external pressures were certainly significant - war with England, the Scottish defeat at Solway Moss and the subsequent death of James V; resulting in the accession of 6-day old Mary and a new cycle of government by regency. Then came the ‘Rough wooing’ as Henry VIII tried to force a betrothal between his son Edward and Mary; the English incursion into southern Scotland; and two battles: Ancrum Moor, where the Scots were victorious, and Pinkie Cleugh where the honours went to England, precipitating the smuggling of the young Queen Mary to safety in France. 

     

But it seems that old enmities are hard to stifle and when the country was once again secure, with James VI on the throne and hopeful of inheriting the English crown, the feud erupted once more, with the massacre at Annock in 1586. Most sources agree on the main facts: a small group of Montgomeries stopped at Langshaw on route to the court at Stirling; the Cunninghames, having been alerted to their presence, lying in wait at the Ford to ambush them. Though the numbers killed appear to have been small, the aftermath was brutal and wide-ranging. As Robertson put it: 

‘All the country ran to arms, either on one side or the other, so that for some time there was a scene of bloodshed and of murder in the West that had never been known before.’ 

One person’s fate seems particularly poignant: Lady Margaret of Langshaw, a Cunninghame by birth, but married to a Montgomerie, was held responsible for the ambush and forced to remain in hiding for many years - a heavy price to pay for a family name.

James VI, determined to outlaw blood feud, brought forward laws restricting the carrying of firearms, and commanded opposing lords to process hand in hand up the High Street in Edinburgh as a symbol of the new, peaceful order. It wasn’t quite the end of the Ayrshire Vendetta, however, for in 1606, while Parliament was in session, a battle between the followers of the families was waged on the streets of Perth, lasting for three hours. 

But in contrast to Shakespeare’s ‘Montagues’ and ‘Capulets’, 

the marriage of William, 9th Earl of Glencairn to Margaret Montgomerie, daughter of the 6th Earl of Eglinton, did finally seal the peace in 1661.

And in an interesting postscript the Lord Lyon recognized a new chief for Clan Cunninghame in 2013. 

His name? Sir John Christopher Foggo Montgomery Cunninghame.

Margaret Skea is the award-winning author of three books focusing on this long-running feud, which together comprise the Munro saga:  Turn of the Tide, (Historical Fiction Winner in the Harper Collins People’s Novelist competition and Beryl Bainbridge Best First Time author Award), A House Divided (Long-listed for the Historical Novel Society New Novel Award) and By Sword and Storm. 

They tell the story of a fictional family trapped in the middle of the conflict, with all the challenges and difficulties it poses for their relationships and their safety; along with the pressure it places on conscience and integrity.

For details of these and Margaret’s other books visit www.margaretskea.com 

Ebooks can be found at https://www.amazon.co.uk/stores/Margaret-Skea/author/

 

Trading Standards 16th century style by Margaret Skea

 Trading Standards 16th century style.

Or… what’s in this meat pie? 

For those of us in Britain the cost of food has noticeably increased over the 18 months or so and has become a hot topic of conversation both privately and in the media. One of the largest price increases relates to beef. Shepherd’s Pie made with beef mince used to be considered an economical standby. Technically, of course, ‘Shepherd’s Pie’ should be made from lamb mince – the hint is in the name – but as beef was cheaper than lamb, most folk, in Scotland at least, weren’t bothered about the technicalities. 

However, beef, in any form, is fast becoming the most expensive meat, and it requires careful reading (often with a magnifying glass) to work out the (often small) beef content of many ready-meals. Some years ago there was a Europe-wide crisis when horse-meat DNA was found in many supposedly beef ready-meals, burgers etc; with Food Standards inspectors testing everything in sight in an attempt to discover the scale of the fraud. Perhaps unsurprisingly it spawned a host of jokes, including, given the coincidence in timing of Phillipa Langley’s discovery of the body of Richard III, my favourite. It was suitably historic: ‘After finding Richard III under a Leicester Car Park, scientists have found his horse in a Tesco burger.’

But is the mis-labelling and / or adulteration of food a new problem? 

Definitely not. The first records in Scotland of national standards for food date back to the reign of David I - 1124 - 1153. There were clearly problems then, as now. However, my interest in food regulations relates specifically to the 15th and 16th centuries, and how they impact on the characters in my Scottish trilogy. 

   

                                                                      David I of Scotland 

Nowadays we think the aim of food standards is purely to protect consumers. In the 16th century it was a little different. Consumers, yes, but also the interests of sellers and to prevent disorder. There were strict market regulations governing what could be sold, where and in what form. Some regulations came from the burghs themselves, others by statute - with correspondingly harsh penalties for breaching them.

                                       

Take bread, for example. Scotland, in common with most of Europe suffered from ‘bread riots’, with one significant difference – the rioters in Scotland were not the poor, desperate for reasonably priced food, but the bakers or ‘baxters’ themselves. They were protesting about price restrictions imposed by the burgh authorities, in response to regular Acts of Parliament. 

Most bread was made from wheat, though the poorest households probably made their own flat and fairly indigestible barley bannocks. The price and weight of bread was set, but fluctuated according to the price of wheat. Burgh records describe Bailies (those contracted to ensure compliance with regulations) taking flour ground from a firlot – roughly equivalent to an imperial bushel – to a baker and watching as the bread was baked. The resulting loaf was the standard against which all other loaves were measured. Any baker selling underweight bread risked, at best, a fine and confiscation of his stock, or at worst, his oven being broken and forfeiture of freeman status.

Freeman status was important, as often the sale of bread, and other regulated foodstuffs was restricted to those with burgess status.

‘Outlanders’ coming in from outside were sometimes given permission to trade, but only if they paid the burgh for the privilege. One unusual regulation was the '8 day rule' of 1526 - local residents without freeman status were only allowed to buy enough food for 8 days - to avoid them setting themselves up as small retailers.

Quality was also controlled – different grades of bread being classified as ‘white’ or ‘gray’ – not the most appealing of labels, but all was to be ‘good’ and ‘dry’, which probably meant well-fired and risen – nothing worse than a ‘soggy bottom’ as Prue Leith would say! 

While it is hard to imagine parliament today legislating for the size and price for a loaf;  the price of alcohol is the subject of current regulation. The same was true in the 16th century, with the price of malt and the quality of the ale determining the price. Tasters or ‘conners’ were appointed by the burghs on annual contracts, and having graded a brewer's ales, chalked set prices on the shutters or doors of his premises, so that they could be clearly seen. Anyone found to be over-charging could have the bottom knocked out of his brewing vessels. There is one significant difference between then and now - the modern debate relates to minimum pricing, the 16th century burgh authorities were concerned with imposing a maximum price.

Photo by Fabian Burghart on Unsplash

As now, horse was not a normal part of the 16th century Scottish diet – they were much too valuable to eat. There is however plenty of evidence of the consumption of beef, mutton, pork and goat in the burghs,

and of animals being over-wintered to maturity.  This was supplemented in coastal areas with salmon, herring and seawater fish. The main thrust of meat regulation was quality – for example the sale of meat from ‘longsought’ (lung-diseased) animals was banned - as was the sale of damaged, or badly butchered meat. 

Interestingly, there was no regulation of cheeses, butter, oatmeal or salt. 

There has been much recent discussion on the length of our food 'chain', with meat being shipped from all round the world before landing on a British table. Back then the food chain was, by regulation, extremely short – animals were to be slaughtered outside, in public view and most importantly, at the point of sale. One way of ensuring the customer knows what they are about to buy. 

This particular regulation helped in the prevention of dishonest practices designed to improve the appearance of meat - for example, blowing air into an entire carcass - which plumped it up.  The modern equivalent is likely the addition of water. Bleeding of animals immediately before slaughter was also prohibited, as it masked last minute feeding.

Not everyone was so well-protected. A rather shocking regulation stated that putrid pork or fish must be removed from sale, but not thrown out or destroyed. Instead it was given to lepers. 

But to come back to the meat pie in the sub-title. 

One of the most interesting restrictions on the activities of butchers, or ‘fleshers’ as they were known, is found in the Ancient Laws and Customs of the Burghs of Scotland – prohibiting them from trading as pastry cooks. Was it an attempt to stop them from disguising poor-quality meat by putting it into pies? Perhaps. Which triggers the sobering thought – four hundred years on, little seems to have changed…

There are many sources available for further information; however, here is one article, for starters, for anyone who might be interested: 

March M S (1914) ‘The trade regulations of Edinburgh during the 15th and 16th centuries.’ Scot Geog Mag 30 (1914) pages 483-488

Margaret Skea is the award-winning author of short stories, a biography, and five historical novels, including the 'Munro' trilogy set in the context of the 15th and 16th century clan feud called the Ayrshire Vendetta.  

The 'Auld Alliance' by Margaret Skea

Some years ago the BBC ran an advert for the 6 Nations Rugby tournament which was pulled following some complaints, and then proceeded to go viral! The punchline was - 

 

‘It’s not who you want to win, but who you want to lose.’

 

No prizes for guessing the answers the Scots, Irish and Welsh fans gave. 

Clever – yes. Amusing – yes. And like all the best humour, based on a grain of truth. But from the Scots perspective at least, it has its roots in ancient history.

The United Kingdom has a common flag - the Union Jack, which symbolizes both the union of the crowns of 1603 and the union of parliaments in 1707. A union that, despite having been challenged in recent years, has nevertheless survived relatively unscathed for over 400 years. 

But Scotland had a prior alliance, with France, which has come to be known as the ‘Auld Alliance.’ It is one of the longest standing treaties in the world (more on that later). Renewed by successive monarchs it was based on a sense of a common enemy, and that enemy was England.

 

In 1579 David Chamber, one of the Lords of Council and Session at Edinburgh claimed that the Auld Alliance dated back to Philip I of France and Malcolm III of Scotland. If it did, no documentary evidence remains. 

 

The earliest extant record of the treaty is dated 23^rd October 1295 which John Balliol concluded with Philip the Fair. Balliol was technically only the Scottish King under the over-lordship of Edward I of England, so the terms of the treaty with France are somewhat surprising. It bound Scotland and France to provide mutual support in the event of war with England. 

                                                                         John Balliol 

An excerpt from the 1326 version of the treaty, between Charles IV of France and Robert I of Scotland, illustrates both the main terms and the tone of the treaty.

 

‘…a meet and necessary thing it is that princes should ally themselves together by bond of friendship and goodwill in order the grievances of those who desire to grieve them more forcibly to refrain; and the tranquility of them and of their subjects more peaceably to secure…with the noble prince Robert, by the grace of God King of Scotland our special friend, against the King of England, whose predecessors have often labored to aggrieve the said kingdoms of France and Scotland in many and sundry ways…’ 

 

Even more strikingly there was provision for what should happen in the event of either country making peace with England –

 

‘…if our kingdom shall make peace or truce with the king of England…the King of Scotland, his heirs shall be excepted; so that such peace shall be null whenever war is waged between the aforesaid kings of Scotland and England  …France shall be bound to make war upon the kingdom of England with all their force…firmly to observe, faithfully to perform and fully to accomplish.’  (Ditto in reverse.)

 

No wriggle room there then! The treaty was renewed at least 12 times between 1295 and 1543 and many of the original documents survive among the charters of France. They can be accessed via an inventory, catalogued by a M. du Tillet and printed in folio in 1588. One significant effect of this on-going treaty was a succession of contracts of marriage, beginning in 1235 with Edward Balliol (son of King John) to Joan, niece of the French King; with the most famous being the marriage of Mary Queen of Scots to the Dauphin Francis in 1558.

Mary Queen of Scots and Dauphin Francois

While the treaty was mutually beneficial, it does seem that the balance fell in favour of the French, with Scotland regularly providing troops, sometimes in very significant numbers, to aid the French in their wars with England, both on French and on English soil. 

There were notable wins for the Scots – in 1420 they defeated the English at Beange; but notable losses also – in 1326, following the French defeat at the Battle of Crecy, David II attacked the north of England but was routed at what has become known as the Battle of Neville’s Cross.  

Battle of Neville's Cross

The story goes that David, heavily wounded, fled the battlefield and took refuge under the arch of Aldin Grange Bridge on the river Browney. There he was said to have been betrayed by his own reflection in the river and was thus captured by John Coupland. Legend or truth, what is clear is that when Coupland delivered David to the English king, Edward, he was rewarded with  a substantial fee and a knighthood. David was imprisoned in the Tower of London for ten years and finally handed back to the Scots apparently for a ransom that would equate to c £15 million in today’s money.  Whether the ransom was actually paid is however a debatable point.  

Saddest of all the efforts of the Scots was the enormous loss of Scottish lives at the Battle of Flodden in 1513, when James IV attacked England in support of France despite the English King, Henry, being James’ brother-in-law. It was said that ‘the flower of Scottish nobility perished on that day’ and the lament ‘Flowers of the Forest’ commemorates the deaths of James and around 10,000 of his men. There were few of the leading families in Scotland untouched by that tragedy. The site of the battle and the fallen on both sides is commemorated in a memorial cross. It is near where I currently live and walking around the battlefield is incredibly atmospheric. 

                                                                 Site of the Battle of Flooden

 So what did the Scots get in return for centuries of service to France? Quite a bit actually. Many individuals received military, civil and ecclesiastical honours and offices, but most importantly, every Scot was entitled to letters of naturalization – in effect giving them the right to dual nationality. (Handy if you’re in trouble in your home country!)  That right was confirmed by Henry IV as late as 1599, with letters signed by him at the palace of Fontainbleau, and I love the detail - ‘sealed with the great seal in green wax, in a lace of red and green silk.’  This ensured that Scots could be testate in France and could both inherit and dispose of any assets they possessed there.  This is of relevance to my fictional family, the Munros, who are central figures in my Scottish trilogy, set in the real-life feud between the Cunninghame and Montgomerie families, called the 'Ayrshire Vendetta'.  

 

Another important result of the alliance was the establishment of the Gardes Ecossaise in 1418 – an elite troop that was supposed to be comprised entirely of Scots (that was the theory, however there is evidence that others were admitted and both Mary Queen of Scots and James VI are recorded as having made protests on that score.) The Gardes formed the royal bodyguard of successive French kings and their duties ranged from keeping the keys of the King’s bedchamber and assisting at the reception of ambassadors and waiting at coronations, baptisms and marriages of royal children, to carrying the body and guarding the effigy of a (dead) King. One captain of the Gardes was Robert Stewart of Aubigny and both he and the Auld Alliance are commemorated at a ceremony in Aubigny-sur-Neve to this day. 

My own interest in the Auld Alliance stems from researching the Gardes Ecossaise, because the real-life Patrick Montgomerie, one of my favourite historical characters in my trilogy, was a captain in this elite troop. His involvement in the Gardes allowed me to take my fictional family to France.

A  rather elegantly dressed Garde Ecossaise

But perhaps the most important advantage that the Auld Alliance gave to Scots were trading privileges for Scots merchants. They were required to pay only ¼ of the normal duty on all the goods that they imported from France to Scotland and were similarly acquitted from new duties imposed on merchandise they brought to France.  Interestingly these privileges didn’t stop even after the Act of Union in 1707 which formally linked England and Scotland under a single parliamentary system. English merchants continued to be penalized, while Scots merchants were not.

 

Historian Dr Siobhan Talbott has spent some years researching the treaty signed in 1295 and suggests that there is no evidence that it was ever formally rescinded. Others have suggested that it was dissolved by the Treaty of Edinburgh in 1560, as a by-product of the reformation in Scotland, but she is convinced that there isn’t anything in the treaty to support that view. Three facts also support her view – that Henry IV again ratified the naturalization of all Scots in 1599, that trading privileges continued even after 1707, and that in 1942 Charles de Gaulle made a speech describing the Auld Alliance as an active agreement; claiming it was the ‘oldest in the world’. If this is indeed true it is now 730 years old, and as such trounces the other contender for ‘oldest treaty’ – that between England and Portugal signed in 1373.  

 

Postscript: In 1906, under the Entente Cordiale, the part of the agreement that meant that Scots had the same rights in France as the native French was rescinded, but not made retrospective. Which means theoretically anyone born before 1906 could still claim dual nationality, even today.  Though, as I’m not aware of any Scots older than 120, it probably doesn’t matter too much now! 

 

Margaret Skea is the author of the prize-winning Munro Scottish Saga, as well as a fictionalised biography of Katharina von Bora, the wife of the reformer, Martin Luther, a contemporary missionary biography, and a collection of short stories.   These are available in selected UK bookshops or direct from Margaret's website at https://www.margaretskea.com and in print and kindle via Amazon https://www.amazon.co.uk/stores/Margaret-Skea/author/B009B9HCUC?ref