Moreover, the alliance of this red-haired lad was contended for by the rival Kings of England and France. John, probably with his young daughter Joan in view, offered to provide the Scottish prince with a suitable bride. Philip Augustus, hoping to make him useful in the struggle so constantly maintained with the Plantagenets, pressed on him a daughter whom Agnes Méranie had borne ere the pope forced her husband to repudiate her. The Scot, who was sagacious and intelligent for his years, perfectly comprehended the game of his royal contemporaries; and while they played he looked on watchfully, and with a keen eye to his own interests.
Alexander—such was the name of the Scottish prince—was the only son of William the Lion and Ermengarde de Beaumont, a kinswoman of the Plantagenets, a lady celebrated for “a soft and insinuating address,” which more than once saved her husband from the consequences of his imprudence when he provoked the wrath of his powerful neighbours in the South, as he did rather too frequently for his comfort. On the 4th of December, 1214, however, William the Lion expired of age and infirmity, and Alexander was ceremoniously crowned King of Scotland in the Abbey of Scone; and scarcely was he seated on the throne of Malcolm Canmore and St. David, when the Anglo-Norman barons of the North of England sent to offer him their homage and to crave his protection.
Alexander, then about sixteen, was, naturally enough, rather flattered, and more readily listened to their proposals than he would had he been older and wiser. Accordingly, the barons of Northumberland did homage to him at Felton; the barons of Yorkshire, somewhat later, did homage to him at Melrose. Moreover, Alexander immediately raised the standard on which, in a field or, ramped the red lion from which his father William derived the surname by which he is known in history, crossed the Tweed early in October, and laid siege to the castle built at Norham by Ralph Falmbard, “the fighting Bishop of Durham.” But his efforts to take the stronghold proved unsuccessful, and, after remaining before it for forty days, he raised the siege, and consoled himself for his disappointment by ravaging North Northumberland. Suddenly, however, he learned that he was not to be permitted to slay and plunder with impunity. In fact, news that John, with a host of mercenaries, was marching northward in hot haste, reached the royal Scot’s ears; and he made a timely retreat towards Edinburgh, to the very gate of which he was pursued by the hirelings of the foe whom he had provoked.
It soon appeared, however, that Alexander was not so daunted by the storm he brought on his kingdom as to leave the king and the barons of England to fight out their battle without his interference. Far from it. No sooner was John’s back turned than Alexander, bent on retaliation, again mustered an army, buckled on his mail, mounted his steed, and led his wild forces, many of whom were Highlanders, across the border.
It was the spring of 1216; and Alexander, having entered England by the East March, penetrated through the bishopric of Durham, marking his way with carnage and devastation. But, probably alarmed by the attitude of Hugh Baliol and Philip de Ullecotes, whom John had intrusted with the government of the country between Tees and Tweed, the King of Scots, after reaching Richmond, wheeled round, and, carrying his booty with him, bent his way homewards through Westmoreland and Cumberland, halting, however, to attack and pillage the Abbey of Holmecultram, where the Highlanders of his army were guilty of such sacrilege and atrocities as utterly threw into the shade the outrages perpetrated by John’s mercenaries at Coldingham, in the Merse. Much indignation on the part of the monks was the consequence; and the monkish chronicler goes the length of saying that, as a judgment for their wickedness, about two thousand of them were drowned in the Eden while attempting to cross with the spoil. But, however that may have been, this raid was not, in any point of view, very beneficial to the cause of the confederate barons; and Alexander remained quiet till he was summoned by Louis of France to leave his home and appear at Dover, and render his homage as one of the vassals of the English crown.
It was August, 1216, when Alexander, for the third time, crossed the border, leaving behind the Highlanders who had brought such disgrace on his former expedition. However, he had a considerable army, and succeeded in making himself master of Carlisle, without being able to reduce the castle. From Carlisle he advanced southward; and, after being joined by his brother-in-law, Eustace de Vesci, he, while passing through Durham, came before Bernard Castle, which belonged to Hugh de Baliol. But here Alexander experienced the loss of a valuable ally. Eustace de Vesci, while riding round the fortress, was mortally wounded by a bolt shot from a cross-bow on the walls; and on De Vesci’s death the Northern men were so discouraged that they abandoned the siege, and dispersed.
Alexander, however, pursued his career of carnage and plunder. Sparing the friends of the barons, but treating cruelly those of the king, he marched right through England, reached Dover without interruption, and, going down on his knees, placed his hand in the hand of Louis, and, as a vassal of the English crown, did formal homage to the French prince as his feudal superior. At the same time, Louis and the Anglo-Norman barons swore not to make any peace with John without including the King of Scots in the treaty; and Alexander, having thus been secured, as he supposed, against the consequences of his imprudence, sojourned fifteen days with Louis, and then turning his face towards Scotland, pressed northward, proving as he went his respect for the laws and liberties of England by taking the lives and seizing the property of Englishmen.
For a time Alexander and the Scots met with no enemy, and encountered no opposition; and northward they went, slaughtering, plundering, and burning to their hearts’ content. On reaching the Trent, however, they found themselves in the presence of foes as cruel and unscrupulous as themselves, in the shape of John’s army of mercenaries. Alexander might well have stood aghast, for he knew to his cost that the hireling soldiers of Falco and of Soltim had more of the characteristics of the wolf than of the lamb; and, with the fate of Malcolm Canmore and his own father, William the Lion, in his memory, he might well despair of crossing the Trent alive and at liberty.
It seemed probable, indeed, that, not for the first time, the banner on which the ruddy lion ramped in gold had waved defiantly in southern gales was to be trampled ignominiously in the dust, when an event occurred which averted the danger, and gave Alexander an opportunity of indulging in fresh carnage, and gathering fresh spoil. King John was dead, and a new scene opened.