You Win Or You Die Transcript (Scotland: A Scottish History Podcast)
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Hi, it’s Michael. Although this episode is about the real events from history that inspired one cataclysmic event in the Game of Thrones series; I feel like I should probably let you know that this show contains spoilers for Season 3 Episode 9 of HBO’s Game of Thrones: The Rains of Castamere.
Also, while I’ve got you, go and leave us a wee rating and review on your podcast app of choice. It really helps. Honest.
Scotland - A Scottish History Podcast
Episode 7 - You Win Or You Die
You probably already know all about the world of Game of Thrones. George R.R. Martin’s book series and the TV show of the same name have been a pop culture staple for years.
In its most famous event, the King in the North Robb Stark and his bannermen are massacred at his uncle’s wedding by a traitor in their ranks, while under the supposed protection of the Frey’s hospitality.
This episode isn’t about the fictional events of some TV show though, so let’s not go into any great detail. Suffice to say, Stark, his mother, pregnant fiancé, his generals and soldiers are all massacred in pretty much the nastiest way you can think of. The event in the show is known as the Red Wedding and has become shorthand for an unexpected, bloody twist in pretty much any kind of media.
It’s bloody, it’s vicious, it’s not what the world was expecting. Little do casual fans of the series know, the Red Wedding was inspired by two shocking, unexpected moments in Scottish history.
From Be Quiet Media, this is Scotland, a show about history and where we made it. I’m Michael Park.
In 1440 the Douglases were one of the largest and most powerful clans in Scotland, with tentacles spreading out throughout the country and a military force that some highly placed nobles thought could be a threat to both their own power, and that of the king.
James the Second was crowned just three years prior in 1437 at the tender age of just six. His father, James the First - funnily enough - had just been assassinated.
Until the young King was old enough to take the crown, the realm was governed by a member of Clan Douglas - namely his first cousin Archibald - the 5th Earl. The role of Queen Joan, James’ mother, depends on what account you read. To some, she was written out of the governance of the country, to others she was co-regent with Earl Douglas until his death. Another example of a powerful woman’s role being marginalised in the annals of history.
The Fifth Earl of Douglas wasn’t all that interested in running the country and preferred the company of alcohol over the company of his advisors. He died in 1439 of a fever, which left the young king in a precarious position. There wasn’t a clear familial noble to take over from the Earl. His eldest son was just 15 - a minor who was too young to take up the position of Regent.
This meant that power defaulted to three men who would be responsible for ruling in the King’s stead until he turned 18. Pay attention here because they’re the bad guys in our story.
One: Sir Alexander Livingston of Callendar
Two: William Crichton, 1st Lord Crichton - the Lord Chancellor of Scotland
Three: James Douglas, the Earl of Avondale and Uncle of the Fifth Earl of Douglas
Livingston held Stirling Castle and Crichton was the keeper of Edinburgh Castle. The two weren’t best friends by any stretch of the imagination. After a few increasingly ridiculous childish arguments, petted lips and cries of unfairness, the two forged an uneasy alliance to consolidate as much power as they could and keep the young King under their combined influence.
This is where it gets a bit wild. You might want to get a pen.
Livingston and Crichton weren’t well liked by Queen Joan who had remarried to one James Stewart, the Black Knight of Lorn. Together with their allies in the Douglas clan, they began plotting to remove the wee King James from power to keep his young, impressionable mind from the negative influence of his keepers.
The Douglases didn’t care that much about the young King, and were mostly unhappy that they’d suddenly gone from heroes to zeroes as the result of one death and were keen to see their own authority, which now permeated most high offices in Scotland, consolidated.
Livingston, Crichton and James Douglaas found out about the plan though, and threw James Stewart and his brother William into jail at Stirling Castle. The once Queen Joan was confined to her quarters in the Castle for the foreseeable.
The three were incensed by this betrayal of their legitimate power. Or at least that’s what they’d tell you if you asked them. The truth was that they all had designs on power in one form or another. This so-called betrayal gave them an excuse to try and break the influential Douglases… in the only way that three malevolent schemers knew how.
In November 1440, Crichton invited the the 6th Earl of Douglas, the now-16 year old Earl of Douglas, William and his younger brother David to attend a banquet at Edinburgh Castle.
You can probably tell where this is going… right after this…
Mid Roll
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"Edinburgh Castle, toune and towre,
God grant thou sink for sin!
And that e'en for the black dinner
Earl Douglas gat therein."
A cold November night, and Earl William Douglas, the hot-headed teenager, arrived at Edinburgh Castle with his young brother David and his closest advisor Malcolm Fleming of Cumbernauld. One didn’t simply reject the invitation of the King, no matter how suspicious you might be of his advisors.
They were led into the hall to dine - this offer of hospitality, would have guaranteed them safe conduct and probably put their restless minds at ease.
The young James the Second was beguiled with his guests. The young men all had much in common, coming from nobility and having experienced the loss of their fathers at a young age. William Douglas was engaging, he was informed, he was passionate.
He was dangerous.
Legend has it that as the main course was being served, servants carried a massive black bull’s head into the hall on an equally giant platter. The bull’s head was a symbol in medieval Scotland - a message that the home’s guest of honour was about to meet their end.
The boys and their advisor were seized by soldiers at the instruction of Crichton. The King was beside himself that his new friends were being arrested on charges of high treason. He pleaded with Crichton that the Douglases should be allowed to go free… but he was just a wee boy.
He was in no position to give orders.
The boys and their advisor Fleming were put in front of a kangaroo court, found guilty in mere minutes and sentenced to death. They were taken to Castle Hill as quickly as possible. The supposed traitors’ necks were for the block. The young Earl insisted that his brother be executed first to save him the pain and fear of having to watch his brother die. All three lives ended on the blade of the executioner’s axe.
That part is true - the bull at the banquet? I’ll let you make up your own mind about that.
The real villain may well have been the young Earl’s great uncle, James, the other man who was charged with running the country in the King’s youth. With the two male heirs of old Earl Douglas done away with, the scheming second son of the third earl who was nearly 70 when the boys were executed. He inherited the title Earl of Douglas, and control of the Clan’s vast estates and - of course - abundant wealth.
The death of the young Douglases did little to reduce the clan’s influence though, and James the Second’s reign became almost exclusively about trying to limit their impact on his court. Twelve years later he invited the eighth Earl of Douglas for dinner at Stirling Castle where he accused him of forming a treacherous alliance with the Earl of Crawford and the Earl of Ross.
The two got into a heated argument which led to the King stabbing the Douglas in the throat… and then twenty five more times. To add insult to injury, his bloodied corpse was then thrown from a window. The Douglas Garden in the grounds of Stirling Castle can still be visited today. If you look up, you’ll see a window with the coat of arms of the Douglases - the window from which the Earl was thrown.
Two black days, two. dead. Nobles.
Mid Roll
If you’re listening to the show and you want to hear something about your favourite period of Scottish history, then give us a shout. Our schedule for 2019 is almost full but there are a couple of slots left! Give us a shout on Twitter, email scotland@bequiet.media or get in touch on Facebook. That’s what Judy did… and that story is coming up… right… about… now…
Murder under trust was one of the ultimate betrayals in medieval Scotland. To be honest, it probably still is. It wouldn’t be too polite to invite that person you don’t like from work round for dinner and then bump them off over a caesar salad.
Hospitality in the Highlands was such that if someone came to you as a friend, seeking help or shelter, you couldn’t turn them away. Even if they were your worst enemy.
It was also part of the law, designed to put paid to clan leaders solving problems in bloody ways. The Highland clans held significant power as the Seventeenth Century hurtled towards its final act but they had developed a bloodthirsty reputation among the supposedly more enlightened Lowlanders.
Scotland was in turmoil too. The so-called ‘Glorious Revolution’ had seen King James the Sixth of Scotland deposed and replaced by his protestant daughter Mary and her husband. Many of the clans had fought on the side of the deposed king and remained loyal to him. This was the beginning of the Jacobite uprising; but that’s a story for another time.
Once the first uprising was put down, the new royal family decided to let bygones be bygones, and offered the Clan chiefs an opportunity to give up their allegiance to King James, and swear their loyalty to Queen Mary and King William. Not only would they be on the right side of the new monarchs, they would all receive a nice wee financial reward.
Most of the chiefs took the deal.
The MacDonalds of Glencoe, who had even managed to develop a reputation for lawlessness with the previous regime, were really keen to get the money and their Chief, Alistair Maclain, was one of the signatories to a Declaration which signalled their intention to swear fealty to the new Protestant monarchy.
Two months later a royal Proclamation promised a full pardon for anyone who took the Oath before January 1st 1692. This was music to Maclain’s ears - his clan were fugitives on both sides of the divide. The chiefs met in secret and decided to take the oath unless their former King returned, in which case they would abandon it and fight alongside the Catholic Jacobites.
The old King James eventually gave his permission - there was no chance of him mounting an invasion of Scotland in the time he had available - but it did not reach Alistair Maclain, Chief of the Glencoe MacDonalds until late December, and he didn’t set out until two days before the deadline.
The letter to James had been sent in October and although mail took a long time to reach its destination in those days, there was something strange in the length of time it took the deposed King reply. Had they been less trusting, the Chiefs might have wondered why it took so long.
Enter John Dalrymple - the Secretary of State for Scotland. He had been part of James the Second’s government but turned coat as soon as he was deposed. Dalrymple was a Lowlander - a shrewd, ambitious career politician, who believed the Highland Clans’ way of life wasn’t in keeping with the morays of a modern Kingdom.
He would use any excuse he could to put an end to their centuries-old lifestyle.
His spies in London intercepted the King’s letter, giving the chiefs permission to swear loyalty to William and Mary. The letter also let slip their secret plan to abandon their Oath should their former King return. The discovery was greeted with a mixture of joy and fury by Dalrymple who quickly dispatched men North to Fort William. They were to stand by, ready to punish any clan who missed the January First deadline.
What followed is one of the cruelest twists of fate in history or - depending on how you look at it - one of history’s cruelest tricks.
The letter was held up further by another clan leader intent on embarrassing a rival chief and making him late. By the time the letter got to Maclain of Glencoe, it was obvious he was never going to make it to Inverary in time to sign the oath so he set out for Fort William to make sure he beat the deadline.
Governor Hill met with Maclain in the Fort, but Hill was not authorised by the crown to take his oath. He was sent on to Inverary with a letter signed by Hill as evidence that he had made it before the cut off. Maclain arrived in Inverary on 2nd January. They had to wait for the magistrate to return from his Hogmanay celebrations, which saw Maclain and his men waiting around until the 6th.
The magistrate returned, Maclain handed over the letter of protection from Governor Hill, took the oath, and returned home.
No harm done.
But something happened. Between the letters reaching Edinburgh and them being read by the Privy Council something had rendered Maclain’s signature invalid.
He had been late.
There would be consequences.
Dalrymple was buzzing.
DALRYMPLE: My Lord Argyll tells me that Glencoe hath not taken the oath, at which I rejoice. It’s an act of great charity to be exact in routing out that damnable sept, the worst in all the highlands.’
It wasn’t just the MacDonalds. Other clans had been late to sign the oath because of the weather; some had just flat out refused to sign it. For some reason though, it was to be the MacDonalds of Glencoe who incurred Dalrymple’s particular wrath.
His plan was simple, it was slick, it was also illegal.
The MacDonalds of Glencoe were under the protection of the garrison at Fort William. They had documents proving as much from Governor Hill himself. So when they saw one hundred and twenty British redcoats marching towards them on first of February 1692, they had no reason to be worried. The commander of the soldiers was a member of Clan Campbell, Captain Glenlyon, but he and Maclain were related by marriage.
That being said, now might be a good time to tell you that the lands of the MacDonalds of Glencoe bordered those of Clan Campbell. The two weren’t the best of friends. In fact, they hated one another - the result of centuries of conflict. As a result of this, John Campbell, one of the Earls responsible for the secret plan to tear up the oath, is often given the blame for what was to happen next.
The family reunion saw Glenlyon sleeping in the Clan chief’s house. The soldiers were billeted throughout the villages and stayed with their hosts for ten days. This was Highland hospitality after all - if you came as friends, you were treated as friends.
As I said earlier, breaking this code was the ultimate betrayal. Unfortunately, for the MacDonalds of Glencoe, John Dalrymple didn’t care for any aspect of Highland culture, let alone its hospitality.
A dispatch reached Glenlyon as he broke bread with his host on the evening 12th February. The letter contained orders written by a Major Duncanson, whose own force of 400 men was stationed further up the valley, obscured by the blizzard which blew a hoolie through the glen.
You are hereby ordered to fall upon the rebels, the McDonalds of Glencoe, and put all to the sword under seventy. You are to have a special care that the old Fox and his sons do upon no account escape your hands, you are to secure all the avenues that no man escape.
This you are to put in execution at five of the clock precisely; and by that time, or very shortly after it, I’ll strive to be at you with a stronger party: if I do not come to you at fyve, you are not to tarry for me, but to fall on.
It’s probably fair to say that for the ten days that Glenlyon and his soldiers were stationed at Glencoe, they would have had little to no idea what it was they were going to be asked to do, but there it was in black and white. Glenlyon was to wait until the early hours of the morning, when his soldiers’ hosts would be asleep in their beds - and murder them all.
The hour arrived.
Maclain was stabbed to death in his sleep but his sons and many others from the village escaped. Roughly 900 people lived in Glencoe - only around 38 were killed. It’s said that many more died of exposure in the harsh winter weather; while those can’t be substantiated it does seem quite likely. In fact, the total death toll is unclear, but 38 is an often quoted figure based on estimates of another British captain who was present.
Glenlyon was a handy scapegoat for the atrocity given his Campbell blood and propensity for alcohol and gambling. But the fact that the Captain wasn’t trusted to carry out the orders gives rise to the idea that he was being set up - a patsy who couldn’t risk the fallout of disobeying a King’s order.
DUNCANSON: This is by the Kings special command, for the good & safety of the Country, that these miscreants be cut off root and branch. See that this be put in execution without feud or favour, else you may expect to be dealt with as one not true to King nor Government, nor a man fit to carry Commission in the Kings service.
Expecting you will not fail in the fulfilling hereof, as you love your self, I subscribe these with my hand at Balicholis Feb: 12, 1692.
For their Majesties service
(signed) R. Duncanson
To Captain Robert Campbell of Glenlyon
MICHAEL PARK: The orders were delivered by a Captain Drummond who many believe was there to ensure Glenlyon did the deed. The fact that so many of the MacDonald clan escaped, suggests that his 120-strong unit couldn’t bring themselves to carry out their orders in cold blood. The other soldiers, those commanded by Duncanson, were less hung up. Thankfully, they arrived much later than they had intended, or the death toll could have been much higher. Whether that was a deliberate attempt by the rank and file soldiers to avoid taking part, we may never know for sure.
It could all have ended there, on that freezing February morning in the glen, among the shrieking, and the fire, and the blood… but Glenlyon was inconsolable. He had followed orders, knowing the punishment for not doing so could be his own death. He turned up days later, drunk in Edinburgh. He and his men had begun to talk about what they had been ordered to do.
It was all talk though. Who could prove something like that? They’d need to see a copy of the orders sent to Glenlyon by Major Duncanson, implicating the King himself in the massacre. So it was pretty convenient that Glenlyon just happened to misplace the letter and it was spirited away to France and published in the Paris Gazette.
As it turns out, the horrifying murder of dozens of innocent MacDonalds wasn’t at the forefront of many peoples’ minds as the world reacted to the news. What shocked people was that they had been slaughtered ‘under trust’, having invited the soldiers into their homes.
An inquiry was set up and Dalrymple was shunted out of public life for a few years before being allowed to return and be, some would say, rewarded handsomely for his part in the massacre. He was given an Earldom by Queen Anne. The officers involved were put forward to stand trial for ‘murder under trust’. None did. Glenlyon died in obscurity, overcome by his role in the deaths and alcoholism.
The MacDonalds of Glencoe were left devastated by the attack, but they rebuilt their homes and returned to the Glen. Most blamed their old enemies the Campbells for orchestrating the attack. Many still believe that version to this day.
While it’s not impossible, it seems more likely that the Massacre of Glencoe was never the product of a clan feud at all. The notion is taken from a Victorian history book written by Lord MacAuley designed to appeal to a reader at the height of the British Empire.
The closest thing to the truth is probably that it was a culmination of sectarian hatred and political manoeuvring with the fortunate side-effect of stoking tension among the clans. Whether you believe the whole thing was a Campbell plot or not, someone was the victim of a serious fit-up job.
As Game of Thrones returns for its final series, the events which inspired George R.R. Martin to pen the Red Wedding remain a dark stain on Scottish history.
In Westeros, when you play the Game of Thrones, you win or you die. In the real world, you don’t have to being playing the game, to suffer an agonising death.
After all, the truth is often crueler than the fiction.
CREDITS
You’ve been listening to Scotland, it was written and produced by me, Michael Park, and is a production from Be Quiet Media. The score for this episode was by the human chameleon, Mitch Bain. Find him online and get more great songs — search for Mitch Bain Music on Facebook.
The voice of Major Duncanson was Andy Stewart.
You can find out more about the show on our website, thisisscotland.co, and get in touch with any feedback you have for us on Twitter - @BeQuietMedia or we’re on Facebook if you search for Scotland - Scottish History Podcast