King Robert II of Scotland

The Wolf & the Witch, book one of the Blood Brothers trilogy of medieval Scottish romances by Claire Delacroix

Robert II, King of Scotland, has a cameo role in The Wolf & the Witch, so I thought we’d talk a bit about him today. He’s an interesting king because he was older when he gained the throne: his sons were adults, and maybe that’s why he was known for being such a delegator.

This is the Author’s Note that appears in The Wolf & the Witch.

This is a work of fiction, but it does include some historical facts and actual figures. Robert II was crowned King of Scotland in 1371 and was the first Stewart king. He had alliances beyond Lothian and is believed to have fostered the increased raiding on the Scottish borders from 1375 – 1377. In 1378, he reclaimed Annandale. I think he would have been very glad to have a mercenary like the Silver Wolf move into that region.

Upon his coronation, Robert granted the earldoms of Fife and Monteith to his son, Robert; the earldoms of Buchan and Ross to his son, Alexander; the earldoms of Strathearn and Caithness to his son David by Euphemia. (Alexander was known as the Wolf of Badenoch for his savagery and cunning.) Robert also wed his daughter Isabella to James, the son of William, Earl of Douglas, as part of a settlement to address William’s protest against Robert taking the crown. Douglas was also name Justiciar south of the Forth as part of that arrangement. Robert’s son-in-laws were James (who became second Earl of Douglas), John Dunbar, Earl of Moray, and John MacDonald, Lord of the Isles.

This last marriage of the Lord of the Isles (also known as John of Islay, Eòin mac Dòmhnuill, and the chief of clan Macdonald) to Robert’s daughter, Margaret, required John to divorce his wife, Amie mac Ruari. John and Amie had three sons—John, Ranald and Godfroy—who also had to be disinherited as part of this arrangement. Upon that divorce, Amie’s dowry of Garmoran (Knoydart, Morar, Moidart, Ardnamarchan and the small isles) had to be relinquished by John, as well. It was returned to the macRuaris and granted to Ranald—after the death of the son, John—and ultimately granted to Godfroy after Ranald’s death. Little is known of the sons other than Ranald, but it seemed likely to me that they might have been dissatisfied with their father’s decision: Alys’ betrothed, Godfroy, is modeled upon him. He was the youngest and I chose to make him an indulged favorite who dealt poorly with rejection.

Kilderrick itself was inspired by the Hermitage, a fortress in Liddesdale (there is a post on my blog about this keep) and Alys’ father, Robert Armstrong, was inspired by Robert de Soulis, who first began to build a keep in the location of the Hermitage. His descendant, William de Soulis, was said to have had a reputation as a sorceror and a redcap as his familiar. Sir Walter Scott recorded a ballad by J. Leyden about him in his Minstrelsy of the Scottish Borders called “Lord Soulis.” The family had a claim to the crown through Margaret, an illegitimate daughter of Alexander II, and that claim prompted William de Soulis to enter a conspiracy against Robert the Bruce. It was foiled in 1320 and his lands were forfeit for treason. He died imprisoned at Dumbarton. In the story, however, he is boiled alive in a cauldron at the Ninestang Ring, a local stone circle, in a revolt by the peasants against his villainy.

Jean le Beau is fictitious but characteristic of mercenaries of the fifteenth century. These warriors joined into armies for hire called free companies (because they were not beholden to any specific king or baron), were sometimes called routiers in the chronicles, and could be of noble background. Scotsmen often traveled to the continent to join these companies in the hope of earning their fortune. One famous free company was called the White Company, led by John Hawkwood and active in the Italian states in the 1360’s, was likely the inspiration for Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s adventure stories of The White Company. The actual company may have been named as much because they wore white tabards in battle. John Hawkwood was an Englishman, who had English archers in his company, and eventually married into the aristocracy. He was not particularly known for his handsome features or his numerous bastard sons, but Jean le Beau, the Silver Wolf’s father, was inspired by him just a bit.

Of course, events of this story did not happen, but I like to tuck my stories into historical events as if they could have happened. I hope you enjoyed The Wolf & the Witch, and will join me for Elizabeth and Amaury’s story, The Hunter & the Heiress.

14th Century Mercenaries

The Wolf & the Witch, book one of the Blood Brothers trilogy of medieval Scottish romances by Claire Delacroix

The hero of The Wolf & the Witch, Maximilian de Vries, is a mercenary and formerly the leader of a free company called La Compagnie Rouge. That free company was formed by his father, Jean le Beau, the bastard son of a baron with a reputation for violence. This is fiction, but based on historical fact. Today, I thought we’d talk a bit about those 14th century free companies of mercenaries.

In theory, medieval kings summoned armies from their vassals, who owed military service—or the service of knights sworn to their service—to the monarch on demand. In reality, this didn’t always work out well. Military training was likely to be inconsistent. Knights might not arrive on time or prepared for battle. Mercenaries, which were warriors paid to take any cause, filled the gap. They were professional fighters who could be hired at a price. In the fourteenth century, mercenaries proliferated in Europe and joined together in free companies: “free” because they weren’t bound to any particular monarch or territory. Philippe Contamine (in Wars in the Middle Ages) defines mercenaries as warriors who are 1/ specialists; 2/ stateless; and 3/ paid.

What’s interesting about these men is that even though they contributed to the course of history, often in significant ways, they are seldom named in chronicles. This doesn’t mean that they all had humble roots—remember that being trained for battle was a privilege of aristocratic society. I suspect there were a lot of bastard sons and younger sons without legacies in these companies. As Jean Froissart notes in his Chronicles (a 14th century account of the Hundred Years’ War), Scottish warriors often journeyed to the continent to seek their fortune as paid mercenaries.

Here’s a wonderful excerpt from Medieval Mercenaries by William Urban, for those of you who like words as much as I do:

“Territorial rules wanted warriors who were young, skilful, ready to obey orders…and numerous. Vassals often failed on all four counts, especially the last one. Therefore, rulers turned to mercenaries. A mercenary soldier is obviously one who fights for pay. Strictly speaking, to say mercenary soldier is a redundancy. Mercenary comes from mercer, meaning to buy and sell. Sold is the German word for money; solde in French. Both have their roots in the word for a silver coin, a solidus, which ultimately goes back to the Latin word for salt, which Romans used for paying salaries (“worth his salt”). Consequently, the word soldier implies an individual who hires out his talents, much like a common workman. We only need the two words together now because the evolution of governmental institutions later transformed irregular hired warriors into a professional class. Warriors who fought because of personal obligations, such as knights, were referred to as one’s men or one’s vassals. Today soldiers are committed to serve a nation no matter whether they are volunteers or in a professional army. A soldier no longer changes employers and rarely goes on strike for higher wages.”

The French word for free companies of mercenaries is routiers, which certainly brings to mind the idea of a raiding company roving over the countryside. When free companies were not employed (or not paid), they pillaged. All the same, their numbers grew during the Hundred Years’ War between England and France—because they were so useful. By the middle of th fourteenth century, several companies were sufficiently large and successful to be known by their names and reputation.

The White Company was composed primarily of English warriors who left France after fighting in the Hundred Years’ War, traveling to Italy in 1361. They were hired by the count of Montferrat to battle the Milanese Great Company employed by the duke of Milan—they won. They wore plate armor, highly polished, which might have contributed to their name (or they might have worn white tabards in battle.) They also had many archers with longbows in their company, an effective weapon mastered by the English. In 1364, the Florentines offered the White Company a ransom to leave Tuscany, the money was accepted. Part of the company moved south toward the Papal States, following Albert Sterz and calling themselves the Company of the Star. The remainder of the White Company followed John Hawkwood and remained in Pisa.

John Hawkwood (1323- 1394) was an English mercenary and longbowman who later led the White Company. He was knighted at some point, married twice, and had five legitimate children as well as many illegitimate ones—two of his illegitimate sons are documented. What is striking is the money he earned as leader of the White Company: he was paid in gold florins, and according to L.W. Mazzeno’s John Hawkwood, “In the 30 years that he served as a captain, Hawkwood’s earnings ranged between 6,000 and 80,000 florins annually (in comparison, a skilled Florentine craftsman at the same time earned 30 florins a year).” He was reputed to have been brutal and cunning, as well as loyal, even though the record challenges that last one. John died in Florence and there is a fresco in the Duomo of him on horseback. You can read more about the specifics of his military career in the Wiki about him.

John Hawkwood was not specifically my inspiration for Jean le Beau, Maximilian’s father (I had already chosen his name by the time I dug deeper into the history of free companies) although his story helped me to add details to Jean’s history and to understand better how free companies functioned. Jean le Beau is much nastier piece of work than I believe John was, and is much more enthusiastic about sexual conquests. When I named Jean le Beau, I was thinking of Philip le Bel (Philip IV, King of France 1285-1314) who was notoriously handsome but so inflexible that he was also called the Iron King.

There were more mercenary captains in Italy—called condottieri—including Giovanni de’ Medici (della Bande Nere), and Cesare Borgia—but these tend to be later, in the fifteenth century. If you watch The Borgias, you can see them in action in that era. If you watch The Tudors, you’ll see how reliant Henry VIII became upon mercenary armies in the fifteenth century. Watching either series, you’ll get to enjoy some wonderful eye candy, too.

One of the things that interests me is how a father’s nature will shape the choices and the characters of his sons, legitimate or illegitimate. All four of the heroes in Blood Brothers struggle with the legacy of Jean le Beau, partly based on how well they knew him and how close they were to their mothers. They all despise their father, but that manifests differently for each one—and they all find it particularly troubling to notice any resemblance between themselves and Jean le Beau. That struggle is something we’ll see more of in the rest of the series.

Inspiration for Kilderrick

The Wolf & the Witch, book one of the Blood Brothers trilogy of medieval Scottish romances by Claire Delacroix

When I began to plan for my Blood Brothers trilogy, I wanted to visit some new territory, so to speak. I’ve written books set in medieval France and England—as well as less conventional settings, like Persia—and my Scottish medievals begin at Ravensmuir, inspired by Tantallon to the east of Edinburgh. My Scottish medieval family at Kinfairlie had links to the throne and to France, and their background was Norman. Ultimately, they married into families from the Highlands. The Rogue begins in 1371 and The Beauty Bride in 1421: I like to stay clear of the years that the black plague was in Scotland, 1349-50 and 1362. In my Champions of St. Euphemia series, Fergus returns home from Crusade to Galloway in 1188 in The Crusader’s Vow, while in The Beauty, Alasdair has returned home from Crusade to the Highlands in 1183, which sets those stories on the other side of the plague.

The heroes in the Blood Brothers series are warriors and sons of a successful mercenary. Mercenaries—or blades-for-hire—existed throughout the Middle Ages, actually even longer than that. They traveled to wherever there was a battle, hiring themselves and their companies out to the highest bidder. They were particularly successful before kings established standing armies, because their services were needed by those kings – it was true that vassals owed military service or knights to their overlords or king, but these men weren’t always as well equipped, trained or sufficiently numerous. In the fourteenth century, mercenaries proliferated in Europe – some were nobly born, some weren’t, and they tend to be left out of the chronicles. I like the sons of mercenaries as heroes: they are often conflicted about their legacy and their livelihood, which makes them ideal candidates for the Beauty-and-the-Beast stories I so love to write.

The Scot and the Sorceress, book two of the Blood Brothers trilogy by Claire Delacroix

I chose the titles for the books because of their alliteration, and because they reminded me of the titles of historical romances when I first started to read these books. I loved those sweeping stories, filled with history and passion, and that was what I intended this series to be like. (And yes, the swishy type is a bonus.) Since the heroes were warriors, the women needed to have some abilities of their own: the first two heroines are called Witch and Sorceress, but I knew that would only be their cover story to keep unwanted suitors and intruders away. I envisioned them like the witches in MacBeth, surviving on the edge of the wilderness, fiercely independent and fearless.

This series was to be set in Scotland and I was fascinated with the Border Reivers who operated on the Western Marches. Although these border raiders operated from the thirteenth to the sixteenth centuries, most of the stories about them are from the later period, and I expected this series to be set in the late fifteenth or even the sixteenth century. I had mixed feelings about this era, but liked the idea of my heroines being rebels who were indifferent to authority.

Then I dug into my research and—as is so often the case—the pieces fell into place, as if by magic. It seemed as if I’d brought together the perfect combination of elements. Liddesdale is a valley to the north and east of Carlisle, notorious as a retreat for reivers, with a large forest to the east which is today preserved as the Border Forest Park. South of this park, Hadrian’s Wall remains. At the north end of the Liddesdale valley is a castle ruin at Hermitage.

The ruins of Hermitage Castle on the Scottish Borders

Many of the medieval stone buildings in the area frequented by the reivers are fortified towers, but this is a fortress. Hermitage is said to derive from the French l’armitage or guardhouse and this keep was called “the strength of Liddesdale”. The original structure was built in 1240 by Nicholas de Soulis and was a motte-and-bailey keep. In 1320, his descendant William de Soulis was said to have practiced witchcraft and/or been a magician who could not be harmed by steel or rope. He terrorized his tenants and the story is that they rose up and boiled him in molten lead in a nearby stone circle called Ninestang Ring. The keep is said to be haunted by his familiar, Redcap Sly, and that story was recorded by Sir Walter Scott in his Minstrelsie of the Scottish Border. (We’ll talk more about this next week.) It’s a great story, but William was actually imprisoned by his overlord and died imprisoned in Dumbarton Castle. The current structure, imposing even in ruin, was built by the Earl of Douglas in the late fourteenth century, likely with the services of John Lewin, the master mason from Durham Cathedral.

The ruins of Hermitage Castle on the Scottish Borders

And so, I have a fourteenth century story inspired by historical events: I now know that the mercenary (and son of a mercenary) Maximilian burned Kilderrick, the motte-and-bailey keep held by Alys’ father, at his own father’s command. Hermitage is the inspiration for Kilderrick, making Alys the sole survivor of a family experienced in border raiding (as the Armstrongs were said to be). Of course, she remembers the fire and blames Maximilian for everything she’s lost. Of course, Maximilian will be the one to build the new keep in stone when he returns to claim the holding – he’ll want to ensure that it is a fortress that can never be taken from him, as his rightful legacy has been. We’ll miss the plague of 1365, although both protagonists remember its ravages. Maximilian arrives at Kilderrick in 1375, fifteen years after he left it smoldering. England and France have signed the Truce of Bruges that will last only until 1378—which means Maximilian will be able to travel from Normandy to Scotland with comparative ease. The Scots and the English will ride to war in 1384, although both sides were already making preparations for the inevitable conflict, which is why Maximilian will be able to secure the financing for construction from the Earl of Douglas in exchange for his alliance.

Is there a ghost in the ruins? Alys would like Maximilian to think so—and as Maximilian’s unwilling bride, she has the ways and means to make her husband doubt his own sanity, as well as the motivation to do so. (Enemies-to-lovers stories are so fun.)

Next week, we’ll talk about the story of William Soulis.

Learn more about The Wolf & the Witch.