As always, part of the joy of getting to write historical romance is sharing not only a happily-ever-after with you, but also the historical context that makes the story possible! The Bastard Laird’s Bride was particularly rich with historical detail, so there’s lots of fun tidbits to share!
The book opens on my retelling of the Battle of Myton, which took place outside of York, England on September 20, 1319. Back in April of 1318, Berwick Castle was wrested from English control by the Scottish (which I touch on in two other books, and ). King Edward II of England was furious to have lost such an important Borderland stronghold, so in the summer of 1319, he decided to attempt to take it back.
Edward had been feuding with his noblemen, many of whom thought he was doing a terrible job as King—including Thomas, Earl of Lancaster. You’ll remember Lancaster from and other books in the Highland Bodyguard series—he was arguably as rich and powerful as the King himself, and the two, though cousins, did not get along. But for the sake of reclaiming Berwick, they entered a truce and joined forces to lay siege to the castle.
The Scots defended Berwick nobly, but Robert the Bruce soon realized that they couldn’t hold out against the siege indefinitely. So the Bruce, keen tactician and master of distractions that he was, came up with a diversionary attack on York to draw off the siege.
The Bruce had learned that Isabella, the Queen of England and Edward’s wife, had accompanied her husband and Lancaster as far north as York to reside for the summer while the English sieged Berwick. Rumors began to swirl that the purpose of the Bruce’s sudden advance on York was to kidnap the Queen and hold her for ransom. The Queen was whisked to safety in Nottingham, but York was almost completely defenseless, leaving the Scots free to attack the city at will.
The Scots won the encounter decisively, but the victory was actually three-fold. In addition to winning the battle, the attack on York had the desired effect of drawing Edward and the siegers away from Berwick, leaving the important stronghold safely in the Scots’ hands.
Perhaps most important, though, it pitted Lancaster and Edward against each other once more. With the end of the siege, Lancaster and Edward’s alliance crumbled. Worse, rumors began to spread that Lancaster had been the one to inform the Bruce that the Queen was in York. Suspicions of Lancaster’s treason were heightened when the Bruce’s army, which was returning through Northern England back to Scotland after the successful battle, didn’t raid, raze, or otherwise touch Lancaster’s lands.
Whether Lancaster actually helped the Bruce or the clever King of Scotland simply saw an opportunity to sow discord between two of his enemies, we do not know. Whatever the case, the Scots’ raids into Northern England, and their attack all the way to York, proved that Edward could no longer contain them. He was forced to ask the Bruce for a truce, which the Bruce granted just before Christmas of 1319.
For his part, the Bruce realized that with the Borderlands now secure, it was time he attended to governance. He began to spend more time at Scone Abbey in Perth, where the Scottish Parliament gathered. He also had a home built in Cardross so that he could spend time with his family. But he wasn’t done fighting for Scottish freedom—more on that in a moment.
There were indeed female scribes in the medieval era—in fact, there is evidence that women worked as scribes all the way back to ancient Greek and Roman times! Scribing largely took place in holy houses, for the work mainly involved copying bibles and prayer books for wealthy patrons of the church (though there are examples of non-religious professional scribes as well).
The work was grueling—sitting bent over a piece of parchment, eyes straining in the low light, attempting to keep warm in a drafty stone building. But it was also a high-skill, high-value trade—in the time before the printing press was invented, transcription done by hand (usually by monks or nuns) was the only way to duplicate a text.
For Benedictine nuns and monks, the Rule of St. Benedict dictated that transcribing religious manuscripts was a requirement, for it helped spread Christianity. This allowed some women (whose education would normally be very limited) to learn to read and write, and to work as scribes within nunneries. Because of this, joining a nunnery became a viable path for many women as an alternative to marriage—it gave women the chance to study, be creative, and excel at a craft in a time when many weren’t given such freedoms.
When a woman entered a nunnery, she was required to relinquish her worldly possessions—including her hair. Novices had their hair cut or tonsured, often by the Abbess, to show a complete renunciation of the outside world. This was symbolically significant because a woman’s hair in the medieval period was a sign of marital and social status, as well as an indicator of her purity. Long, flowing hair was a sign of maidenhood, so the cutting of nuns’ hair was considered a sign of sexual renunciation—it meant the nun was abandoning the secular world in favor of devotion to God. (This is why I included a few knuckleheads questioning Corinne’s virginity—her short hair would have been highly suspect to them.)
Speaking of virgins, I had fun including some of the lore surrounding the Five Sisters mountain range into the story. According to legend, the five sisters used to actually be seven, but two brothers sailed into Loch Duich (the sea loch on which Eilean Donan castle sits) from far away (some say Ireland, some say Norway) and fell in love with the youngest two sisters. The lasses’ father refused to allow the couples to marry until the older five sisters had wed as well. The two sailors swore they had five other eligible brothers and promised to fetch them. Instead, they snatched the two youngest daughters and sailed away, never to return. The five older sisters waited so long for the sailors to return that they turned to stone, with their feet in the lochs and rivers and their heads in the clouds.
Now the Five Sisters mountains overlook the Kintail region, whose crown jewel is Eilean Donan Castle. It is considered one of the most photographed places in all of Scotland, and for good reason. It sits on the tidal sea lochs of Loch Duich, Loch Long, and Loch Alsh on the western coast of Scotland. What we see today of Eilean Donan Castle was actually an early-twentieth-century restoration (including the arched bridge connecting it to land), but remnants of the medieval castle give historians clues about what the original structure looked like.
Eilean Donan simply means “Island of Donnán,” named after a seventh-century Celtic saint (though there may have been Picts on the island even before Donnán). Donnán is thought to have established a church on the island upon which the castle now sits, though no trace of it remains.
The medieval version of the castle was first built in the early thirteenth century and became a stronghold for Clan Mackenzie and their close allies, Clan MacRae. In its first iteration, the castle took up nearly the entire small island on which it sits. A curtain wall with several watch towers enclosed the main keep, which was likely about four storeys tall. There was a sea gate below the largest of the towers, which was accessed by a small sandy beach on the back side of the island. All the towers, including the keep, were rectangular, with walls nearly ten feet thick. It was a defensive stronghold to rival all of its era, yet the island-castle was also large enough to contain an orchard, an archery range, a smithy, and other amenities to make life in the castle more comfortable.
The castle was destroyed in one of the Jacobite uprisings of the eighteenth century, and it remained in ruins after that for over two centuries. In the 1930s, the MacRaes, who were traditionally the hereditary constables of the castle on the Mackenzies’ behalf, took up the project of restoring the castle. Interestingly, because the MacRaes had served so long as bodyguards and soldiers amongst the Mackenzie clan, they were dubbed “the Mackenzies’ shirt of mail”—I sense another story here!
In their own right, the Mackenzie clan was one of the largest and most powerful Highland clans in the medieval era. Their unwavering support of Robert the Bruce played an important role in the King’s success. As far as I know, there are no tales of an illegitimate Laird in the clan history, though I did lightly draw on historical records to describe the clan’s lineage. Kenneth was indeed the first Laird of the clan, followed by Ian, and Murdoch was a historically significant name, appearing twice in the records of fourteenth-century Lairds’ names.
Lastly, a quick note on the Declaration of Arbroath—but I don’t want to say too much, because it (and Jerome Munro!) will be featured in the next book in the Highland Bodyguards series, entitled Surrender to the Scot.
The declaration was another of Robert the Bruce’s moves to secure freedom for Scotland. It petitioned the Pope, who had excommunicated the Bruce and viewed Scotland as belonging to England, to recognize Scotland’s sovereignty, and the Bruce as its King. It was revolutionary in its day, for it implied that the will of the people could override a King’s—the Bruce declared himself King of Scotland, but he also believed that if he failed to serve the people as they saw fit, he could be removed in favor of a different leader.
Many consider the Declaration of Arbroath a precursor of—and even an inspiration for—the United States Declaration of Independence. With its emphasis on the will of the people, some historians believe it is also an indication of proto-democracy—in early fourteenth-century Scotland!
There are thought to be about fifty names of the Bruce’s supporters added to the declaration, including signatures and appended seals—literally seals of approval. Many of the seals have fallen off over the centuries, and the Mackenzie clan seal is not among those that remain, but given their unwavering support of the Bruce, I imagine they would have backed the declaration.
There’s so much more to say about the Declaration of Arbroath (and all these other wonderful historical tidbits), but for now, thank you for journeying back to the medieval Highlands with me!