Bannockburn: And how we now hand over our resources for pocket money

While today, we happily hand over all our resources and get some pocket-money back, it was all different back in the 14th century. Back then, England was an evil country, ever seeking to dominate others, while Scotland just went about its peaceful business, skipping and dancing, harvesting raspberries, attending mindfulness classes, running creches and so forth.

One day, the wicked country eyed the nice one and said, “We’re gonna have you, Jock!” But Jock laid aside his knitting and, from underneath a tartan blanket on his knee, brought forth a massive sword, and said: “Is that right, Percy?”

Fair to say the resultant battle was quite important, allowing Scotland eventually to function as a normal country, or at least no more abnormal than any other, until 1707.

First, though, the page goes all wobbly as we head back in time to 1296 when psychopathic heid-the-baw Eddie 1 of England invaded Scotland, committing a horrendous massacre at Berwick. Chronicler: “Edward spared no one, whatever the age or sex, and for two days streams of blood flowed from the bodies of the slain.”

In 1297, the Scots won at Stirling Bridge. In 1298, the English won at Falkirk. Truly, this was a war of two halves. By 1304, Scotland had lost, but in 1306 Robert, a Bruce, seized the Scottish throne, and it all kicked off again.

In 1307, Eddie 1 – known as “The Hammer of the Scots” because he was a tool – died and, over the next six years, Bob the Bruce gradually chased the English hamewards to reconsider. By 1313, only Stirling Castle remained in English hands.

Steady, Eddie

Bob’s brother Edward – rotten choice of name – proceeded to besiege the joint and, as its fall would mean England losing its last foothold in Scotia, Eddie 2 mustered a huge invasion force estimated at 25,000 infantry – many armed with longbows, the fearties’ weapon – and 2,000 cavalry. With Bob commanding an army of 6,000, the odds seemed quite favourable to the Scots.

That said, it’s thought only 18,000 English (and Welsh and some Irish) turned up, as many were washing their hair that day. Two days in fact, dates etched on every Scot’s mental calendar: the something and something of June, 13-something.

On the first day, Bruce’s army camped in some woods. The Abbot of Arbroath took mass, prompting Edward to mistakenly observe: “Yon daft dudes are kneeling to ask for mercy.” One of his attendants, Sir Ingram de Umfraville, told him: “For mercy, yes. But from God, not you. These men will conquer or die. None will flee for fear of death.”

Before proceedings proper got under way, Bruce went out ahead of his men to scope the enemy. He was mounted on a small horse and carrying only a battle-axe. Spotting the Scottish leader thus poorly equipped, young English knight Henry de Bohun fancied his tattie and lowered his lance to charge.

Seasoned fighter Boabie stood his ground, waiting until the last second before twisting his mount to avoid the lance, then standing high in his stirrups to bring his axe crashing down on Bohun’s bonce, nearly splitting it in two. Bruce later complained he’d broken his favourite axe.

The Scots then rushed the English detachment, an advanced cavalry guard, which promptly legged it. That night, the English camped on cramped and marshy ground with little room to pitch tents. They stayed awake at arms throughout the night.

Was Bannockburn a phyrric victory for Scots?

Noble actions

Sir Alexander Seton, a Scottish noble serving in Edward’s army, defected, and told Bruce that English morale was low and that they were vulnerable to attack.

Next morning, much to Edward’s surprise, the Scots advanced. Bruce had got his schiltrons oot and was proudly displaying them. These were solid, tightly packed formations of men with pikes. Kinda belligerent hedgehogs. Invincibly, they marched forward against the disorganised English troops, who got hemmed in with their backs against the Bannock burn.

They fell back towards the water. Panic spread. Seeing all was lost, Giles d'Argentan (third-best knight in Europe) led the king away, followed heroically by 500 knights of the royal bodyguard.

Once Eddie was safely away, d’Argentan turned back to charge. And that was his tea oot. At Stirling Castle, Edward got tellt he couldnae come in by his own commander, who’d reached agreement with the Scots to surrender, should they win. So, he fled to Dunbar Castle and, from there, took ship to Berwick and thence to London where, some time later, he suffered a gruesome death, reputedly involving his bottom and an instrument.

Meanwhile, the rest of the English army was left to try and make it to the border, with many killed by pursuing Scots soldiers or by patriotic local ratepayers. As usual, final casualty numbers are unclear, though 10,000 is most often quoted for England, with Scotland’s put as low as 500, which sounds dubious.

Certainly, English losses included 34 barons and knights, including the Earl of Gloucester and Sir Robert Clifford, and the capture of many others, including the Earl of Hereford.

Popular site for sore ayes

Today in Scotland, with nothing much else to crow about, Scots still celebrate the victory in song and drunken vomiting. The National Trust for Scotland runs a Bannockburn Visitor Centre. A famous Bruce statue on the site (disputed, natch) of the battle has become a popular landmark. At the time of going to press, the statue has not yet been pulled down by the woke, or SNP as they are known in Scotland.

The battle was also commemorated in what became the funniest Scottish bank note ever, which depicted Bruce and his schiltrons advancing. Alas, the pike-wielding men looked particularly glaikit and Bruce, surrounded by this rabble and depicted shouting agitatedly on horseback, was ripe for the frequently deployed cartoon bubble, “Stoap shovin’, will ye!”

Oh, irreverent Scotia! The note was eventually withdrawn.