In my last blogs, I covered the
valiant ladies of Dunbar Castle. In my
next several I will write about some equally strong females who were forced to
endure the hardships of Scotland during the War for Independence—The Women of
Bruce. Much has been written about Robert
“the Competitor” who was one of thirteen claimants to the Scottish crown in the
early 1290s, of Robert, lord of Annandale—his ever hungry, ambitious son—and then Robert, earl of
Carrick, who went on to become king of Scotland, first of his name, succeeding
where his father and grandfather failed before him. But what about the women around King Robert—his
mother, his sisters, wives, the many mistresses and daughters? Who were they? What were their stories?
In Part One – I begin with an amazing woman (and my 21st great-grandmother)—Marjorie Carrick, countess of Carrick, lady of
Clan Campbell—and mother of King Robert the Bruce.
Turnberry Castle
Marjorie was born in 1252 at Turnberry
Castle, Carrick, Ayrshire in southwest Scotland. Some fix her birth year at 1259, but that
would put the birth of her first child before she was ten-years-old, so I
seriously doubt that assertion. Robert’s
mother was the daughter and heiress of Niall Mac Dhonnchad, 2nd earl of
Carrick, a line that goes back to Scottish kings, David I and Malcolm I, and
beyond to the Pictish kings. Her mother’s side traces a direct line back to the
kings of France and Henry I of England. Her father was nearly
fifty-years-0ld when he finally accepted that he would sire no male heir to
replace him. Roland, his nephew and foster son, had been raised as his son.
With health fading and wanting matters settled, Niall made the bold move to place the chieftainship
and control of the clan on Roland’s shoulders, but then, in old Pictish
tradition, created his daughter, Marjorie heiress to Carrick, in her own right, and settled vast
estates upon her.
Carrick Coat of ArmsSince she was such a prize as a bride, King Alexander III quickly married Marjorie off at a young age to Sir Adam of Kilconquhar, a man twenty years older than she. In rapid time, she was wed, gave birth to her first child—a daughter Isabel (named after Marjorie's mother, Isabel FitzAlan Stewart), and then she had to
stand on the castle wall, holding her daughter, and wave goodbye to her lord husband of barely two years,
as he rode off on the Eighth Crusade raised by Louis IX of France. Adam, the
new Earl Carrick, jure uxoris (by
right of his wife), participated in a battle near Acre. Months later, he died of wounds he received in the engagement.
Fighting at his side, and there
as Kilconquhar closed his eyes, was his good companion, Robert de Brus, 6th
lord of Annandale. Before Adam drew his final breath, he extracted a promise from his friend to journey to Carrick to tell his pretty lady wife of his death, and carry a memento to her. One has to ponder, those in his final moments, as
he stared at the handsome Robert (thirteen years his junior) if he was sending
Marjorie a suitable replacement for her husband.
It took a few months for Robert
to reach Britain and then travel to Carrick in Ayrshire in south western Scotland. Carrick was just three days travel beyond his holding in Annandale, so it was no trouble to fulfill his vow. When he arrived, he discovered
Marjorie in the midst of a hunt. The scene is
easy to envision (especially to a romance writer!)—Marjorie now in her early 20s, vibrant and independent, used
to managing her honours on her own. And feeling time ticking away.
Neither a Scottish king nor an English one would leave her alone, a widow, for too long.
Already wed to a man closer to the age of her father than hers, and
not wanting to stand about while being treated as a royal pawn in the games of
marriage and power, she decided to seize control in her hands. Robert was handsome, a strong warrior, and
came with a good lineage—one to match her own.
He would make a good lord for Carrick—one of her choosing.
Marjorie entertained Robert
lavishly for a month. At the end of the
time, he mounted his horse, intending to return to Annandale—some 80 miles to the east.
To Robert’s surprise—as the story goes—he was but a couple leagues
away from Carrick, when suddenly he was surrounded by Countess Marjorie’s mounted knights. They forcibly escorted him
back to Turnberry Castle. Once there, he
was met by Marjorie who informed him, in true Highland fashion, she was
kidnapping him—that he would remain her prisoner until he consented to wed with
her. A Highland man kidnapping a bride
wasn’t anything new. Quite a few Scottish
marriages began this way—called a Scottish Wooing. Marjorie was being
a truly independent woman, and not about to permit men to govern the path of her life
any longer. There was speculation just how hard
she had to work to convince Robert to agree to her proposal.
Bruce was no mouse of a man. He had fought in the Crusade, witnessed the
harshness of war. And he was very
ambitious, with long-ranging, farseeing plans. One might guess, he was
already contemplating that Kilconquhar’s
wife would make him the perfect lady—one that someday might be his queen—and was merely playing hard to get. The best way to win the heart of this strong-willed lass was to allow Marjorie to believe the idea was hers! With his holding of Annandale not too far from Carrick, surely, he had heard tales of the beautiful countess, knew her royal heritage, and on the long journey home, figured he would be in an excellent position to claim a perfect bride, suited for his future. Historians—and non-romantics—have cast doubt on the events, and suggest it was a mutual plot, a ploy to get by the wrath of
Alexander III, king of the Scots. Being her 21st great-granddaughter, and a Medieval romance writer, I firmly come down on the side of Marjorie kidnapping her husband because she was in love—and being very practical!
It was within the king’s right to make matches or marriage, or at least add his seal of approval
before the couple was wed. This
authority permitted a king to control his lords and barons, to see no one man
became so powerful that he might rival the man sitting on the throne—one much like Robert of Annandale.
Alexander III, king of the Scots
Thus, Alexander was naturally furious the couple wed without his royal permission, or papal consent—nor Marjorie observing a full year of mourning. In punishment, he
seized Turnberry Castle and her other lands. However, whether the tale of their torrid romance caught the king’s
fancy, or he secretly admired Marjorie’s audacity, she was able to regain
possession of her holdings by paying a fine—about one hundred pounds—equal to the marriage pact fee they
would've had to pay if they had been granted permission by the king and married with the usual steps.
Arms of Robert Bruce, 6th lord of Annandale
It was clear theirs was a
lovematch. In the nearly two decades
they were married Marjorie bore 12 children, 10 lived to full age. Less than a year after they were married, Marjorie gave birth to twin girls in early 1272
1. Isabel de Brus (She
became the queen of Norway)
2. Maud de Brus (Isabel's twin) (married
Aodh O'Beland de Ross who became the earl of Ross and Stratherne in 1323)
3. Their third daughter, Christian de Brus—often called Christina—came
in 1273. (Her first husband was Gartnait de Mar, earl of Mar (and brother to Isabel Mar, first wife of King Robert). (Her second husband was Sir
Christopher Seton, executed with her brother Niall in 1306. The third husband
was Andrew, the son of Sir Andrew de Moray, hero of the Battle of Stirling
Bridge with William Wallace.)
4. With the fourth child in 1274, Annandale got his male
heir—and one that would create a history, which would live forever—Robert de Brus—who would go on to be king of the Scots.
5. Mary de Brus was born 1275
(She married Sir Neil Campbell of Lochow, and then Sir Alexander Fraser
of Touchfraser and Cowie)
6. Late 1276, Edward de Brus came—a man who would be the
king of Ireland for a brief time.
7. Margaret de Brus was born 1276
(She wed Sir William Carlyle)
8. Niall de Brus, a third son, followed 1279. (He was taken prisoner
at Kildrummie Castle—while giving the Bruce women the chance to escape the English—was hanged, drawn and quartered at Berwick-upon-Tweed in September
1306, along with Christopher Seton, husband to his sister, Christian, and the earl of Atholl.)
9. Alexander de Brus was born 1282
(He was hanged, drawn and quartered 9th February 1307 at Carlisle,
Cumberland, captured with Reginald Crawford, cousin to William Wallace)
10. Thomas de Brus was born 1284. (He was hanged, drawn and quartered 9th February 1307 with his brother at Carlisle, Cumberland, and Reginald Crawford, cousin to William Wallace)
11. *** 1286 saw the arrival of Elizabeth de Brus, but she didn’t make it to adulthood
12. *** And finally another daughter named Euphemia de Brus came 1287, but
like Elizabeth didn’t live to adulthood either.
*** some family trees show both Elizabeth and Euphemia de Brus being alive, married and having children. Closer inspection will show these are non-Bruce females who married into de Brus family, so NOT the same females.
Also of note, Marjorie's first daughter, Isabel, by Adam Kilconquhar went on to marry Sir Thomas Randolph, and her son, and Marjorie's grandson, was Thomas Randolph of Moray, the brilliant general that served Marjorie's son so well.
Sadly, Marjorie never lived to
see all the accomplishments her children attained, nor had she been forced to mourn
the death of four of her sons killed because of their struggles for independence
from England. She died shy of age forty. The cause isn’t noted, as history so often
does, ignoring women and the important role they played, but one has to wonder
if the birth of thirteen children took its toll upon her. There is another daunting possibility—leprosy. It had long been rumored that her son, Robert,
died of the disease, likely acquired from his father, who was said to have perished of it as well—probably infected while he was on the Crusade. (There are two different groups saying yes and no on if the king did or didn't have it, mostly based on a casting of his skull made 200 years ago. The side saying he didn't have it are focusing on the face deforming part of the disease, of which Robert displayed none. Leprosy can caused other issues that can kill). Leprosy is spread by close contact with
someone infected, and has an incubation period of a year or more, often up to
five years. After that period, it can take
its time killing you through various means, such as attacking the respiratory system, making it harder to fight pneumonia. Some are severely affected within
a year or two, but others can take ten, fifteen or twenty years to succumb to the
disease in the middle ages. So, it is not unreasonable to wonder if Marjorie might have contracted the disease from her husband, and
simply succumbed to the ravages of something that was incurable in the 1300s. A recent study of the Bruce’s skull brought
medical confirmation that the king did suffer from the dread disease, but it didn't destroy his face. If you follow that line of thought it lends credence to both his father and possibly his mother dying from it as well.
Majorie's grave at Holme Cultram Abbey
Marjorie is buried with her beloved Robert in Holme Cultram Abbey Churchyard, Abbeytown, Allerdale Borough, Cumbria, England. Another amazing woman who refused to submit to the narrow roles afforded women during this period.
Join me for Part 2 - of the Women of Bruce where I will talk about the amazing lady who crowned Robert king, and how she paid the price for that act.
Turnberry Castle
Deborah writers in the period of Robert the Bruce in her Medieval series the
Dragons of Challon.
Deborah writes as if she’s been in Medieval Scotland and can magically take you back there to stand amidst the heather and mist of another time. This is breathtakingly beautiful, award caliber writing
— New York Times bestselling author, Lynsay Sand
