Cressy and Poictiers: The Story of the Black Prince's Page

by John G. Edgar

Before describing my adventures in the North of England, I must pause in my narrative to explain how the Scots, in time of truce, happened to make that sudden inroad into England which alarmed the country, startled the court, excited the capital, and caused Queen Philippa to remove from Windsor to York.

It was when the first Edward was king, and when Philip the Fair reigned in France, that the chiefs of the house of Capet, as sovereigns of France, began to encourage that deadly hate of the Scots towards England which speedily proved productive of so much mischief to both countries; and Philip of Valois, on assuming the French crown, did not fail to imitate the example which, in this respect, his predecessors had set. From the time of the battle of Halidon Hill to the year when King Edward—exasperated, as he well might be—embarked for Flanders, promises of aid, and supplies of arms and warlike stores, kept the Scots in insurrection, and encouraged them in their stubborn resistance.

But such a policy could not be long pursued with impunity; and Philip ought early to have discovered that, in his case, it was not to be pursued with impunity. In any case, the loss of his navy at Sluys, and the loss of his army at Cressy, would have taught an ordinary man that the dishonest policy which he was practising was sure to bring still greater disasters in its train. But he was incapable of profiting by experience.

At the time when the princes and the chivalry of France were trodden down at Cressy, the crown of Scotland was worn by David Bruce, son of the conqueror of Bannockburn; and at that time he was about the age of twenty-three, and eager to signalise himself by some such exploits as had made his father celebrated throughout Christendom. But, with such a king as Edward III. on the English throne, this was by no means an easy matter, either in England or Ireland; and perhaps the royal Scot might long have talked, without attempting, had he not been tempted by the representations of his continental ally to undertake the expedition which, in the autumn of 1346, caused so much alarm throughout England.

It appears that when King Edward marched his victorious army to Calais, and sat down before that city with a determination to take it ere leaving, Philip of Valois perceived the impossibility of contending single-handed with such an adversary. In his desperate circumstances, the vanquished Frenchman was not likely to forget the existence of the King of Scots; and, having prevailed on David Bruce to invade England, as the likeliest means of drawing off part, at least, of the English forces from the siege of Calais, and sent men to aid and money to encourage the Scots in their enterprise, he awaited the result with confidence.

No time was lost by the young King of Scots in carrying the project into execution. A Parliament having been hastily held at Perth, and the Scottish magnates having sanctioned a war, their king drew together a numerous army, and, about the opening of October, entered England by the West Marches. A mighty host it was, all things considered, that marched under his standard. Three thousand men-at-arms, knights, and esquires; thirty thousand men on geldings and galloways; and a large body of Genoese and French auxiliaries; such was the army at the head of which David Bruce and his earls and barons came over the Border, to avenge the defeat of Cressy, and to save the city of Calais.

Much was the mischief which the Scots wrought, and great was the terror which they spread around. It seemed that the days of Randolph and Douglas had returned, and that the Scots were again, year after year, to wreak their savage fury on the Northern counties. Men bent their brows and clenched their hands, and women wept and children wailed, as they fled from their homes to the woods and mountains, to avoid invaders, many of whom knew little of mercy, not, perhaps, even the name.

Commencing operations at the castle of Liddel, the Scots took that stronghold, put the garrison to the sword, and beheaded Walter Selby, the governor, in their king's presence, without so much as suffering him to be confessed. This done, they pursued their way through Cumberland and the southern parts of Northumberland, ravaging and burning; and, still spreading desolation as they went, they advanced towards the city of Durham. So far their march had been unopposed, and they had had it all their own way. At this stage, however, an army not to be daunted by superior numbers frowned defiance and demanded revenge. Not only Lord Neville and Lord Percy, but Baliol, Moubray, D'Eyncourt, and De Roos were there to bar the way; and at the head of the force they had mustered was the queen herself—the wife and mother of heroes—whose presence inspired every man there with the resolution to fight with the courage and energy of two.

In fact, Philippa no sooner heard that the Scots were preparing to invade England than she hastened to York, and summoned all the peers and prelates who were in the country to meet in the capital of the North. With their counsel and aid she did wonders, and soon found herself at the head of an army numbering scarce more than a third of the invaders, it is true, but composed of men making up in discipline and valour what they lacked in numbers, and eager to rival the achievement by which their countrymen, fighting on the Continent, had acquired so much fame.

At the head of this formidable force the queen marched to Durham; and, while the English lay in Auckland Park, she, in the city of the same name, awaited the coming of the Scots, who, flushed with a success to which, in recent years, they had been little accustomed, regaled their imaginations with the anticipation of a triumphant issue to their adventurous enterprise.