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(#ulink_50f4f7e1-f22a-5bb8-8e27-ae23cbe23b0a) entered horses at Scottish meetings and won a bell, and young Scrope, who was a compulsive gambler, attended at least one meet where he conducted secret political business. The meetings appear to have been quietly run, considering the times, but there were occasional outbursts of violence, and at one meeting where a Graham and an Irvine quarrelled, the Irvine’s horse was killed.
Racehorses were greatly prized, and although horse-trading between the realms was forbidden from time to time, leading Borderers as well as lesser men were willing to wink at the law where a good mount was concerned. It was not unknown even for a Warden officer to enter a horse for a race so that a prominent reiver from the other country might judge it with a view to buying—and this a reiver whom the officer had arrested in dramatic circumstances not long before (see p. 120, note 5).
Hawking, hunting and fishing were of course popular sports, and occasionally provided the excuse for Anglo-Scottish fraternisation, although one celebrated hunting resulted in bloodshed, and almost full-scale battle. Farther down the sporting scale cock-fighting was popular, and still takes place in Cumberland: during the war I saw a main organised by Border Regiment soldiers in Burma, and only a few years ago a Cumberland farmer ran for Parliament on a platform to legalise cock-fighting.
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All these sports lent themselves to gambling, which seems to have been quite heavy, and cards was also a popular way of losing money and stolen goods. Reivers commonly wagered their spoils; for example, William Taylor of Hethersgill, an Englishman who rode forays with the Armstrongs, “had fower nowte (cattle) about his house, stolen from Chalke, and plaied one of them away at cards”. At the other end of the social scale King James IV of Scotland, visiting Dumfries in 1504, played cards against the English Warden, Lord Dacre, who took him for £2 6s 8d. Border papers and letters contain many references to cards, but dice is less frequently mentioned.
The more sophisticated entertainments were rare. London might be enjoying a theatrical boom late in Elizabeth’s reign, but when a troupe of actors crossed the Border in 1599 it was such a phenomenon that John Carey wrote to Cecil about it: the Kirk had forbidden them to appear in Scotland, he reported, “and have preached against them with very vehement reprehensions”. But to the great offence of the Church, King James VI, who was a theatre enthusiast, commanded that the players should perform and that no one should be prevented from seeing them.
But such entertainments, if they had ever reached the Borderland, would have seemed tame to people whose pastime it was to fashion their drama from their own lives. “They take great pleasure in their own music”, wrote Leslie, “and in their rhythmical songs, which they compose upon the exploits of their own ancestors.” When James IV came to the Borders, with a large following of minstrels and musicians, he also spent sums on local performers, who included a girl from Carlisle specially engaged to sing for him. Her fee was 28s. But although they might hold their own in music, it was in poetry that the Borderers excelled.
The Border ballads are world famous. They are earth poetry. That they have survived in such quantity is due largely to the industry and enthusiasm of Sir Walter Scott, who saved them from oblivion. He and others added ballads of their own, but both the original folk-poems and the imitations are in a literary class by themselves. It seems strange that such a crude, warlike folk should produce such a vital and lasting literature. Scott believed that the wilder the society the more violent the impulse received from poetry and music; the impulse in the Border was both violent and permanent.
They made their poems about their robber heroes, and as a result their characteristics are turbulence and melancholy. How much Scott amended and edited the oral traditions we shall never know exactly; he was never one to spoil a good thing for the want of a little adjustment. But the raw material was magnificent; listen to the opening lines of “Jock o’ the Side”, with its stark urgency and echo of hoofs on the tops:
Now Liddesdale has ridden a raid
But I wat they had better hae stayed at hame,
For Michael of Winfield he is dead
And Jock o’ the Side is prisoner ta’en.
And compare the quiet, ominous words of the English reiver, Hobbie Noble,
(#ulink_8f29922f-1892-540e-a6ca-02d37a4fef5a) planning his last foray:
“But will ye stay till the day go down
Until the night come o’er the ground,
And I’ll be a guide worth any twa
That may in Liddesdale be found.”
But word is gane to the land sergeant,
In Askerton where that he lay—
“The deer that ye hae hunted sae lang
Is seen into the Waste this day.”
Or the saddest of all Border songs, “The Lament of the Border Widow”, supposedly written of a reiver hanged at his own door in 1529:
But think na ye my heart was sair
When I laid the mould on his yellow hair?
O think na ye my heart was wae
When I turned about, away to gae?
No living man I’ll love again,
Since that my lovely knight is slain,
With ae lock of his yellow hair
I’ll chain my heart for evermair.
These are fragments; to read through Scott’s “Minstrelsy” is to go into a new world whose echoes have sounded through the poetry and folk music of the English-speaking peoples.
(#ulink_ff52c3a0-65be-5252-9730-b24656f42828) For those who can take the ballads—and not everyone can—they provide a haunting impression of the Border spirit, captive and restless in a hostile world, sometimes breaking free in exhilarating imagination, but always returning to the resigned sadness of the North.
This, then, was the background and culture of the Anglo-Scottish frontier society of the sixteenth century. We have seen how it arose, what influences shaped it, and how it had come to prey on itself for existence. The essence of the story is how the preying was done, who did it, and how authority tried to stop it.
1. (#ulink_157f88e0-2d14-5406-8474-7a9874ac9dbe) Peregrine Bertie, 11th Lord Willoughby d’Eresby (1535–1601), Warden of the English East March and Governor of Berwick from 1598 till his death, is commemorated in the old ballad as
“… the brave Lord Willoughby, who is both fierce and fell,
He will not give one inch of ground for all the devils in hell.”
A renowned military leader and splendid swordsman, Willoughby was slightly less of an aristocrat than his name and tide suggest. He was the legitimate son of Baroness Willoughby and her gentleman-usher (whose father had been master-mason of Winchester Cathedral) and “could not brook the obsequiousness and assiduity of the court” hi his own words, Willoughby was “none of the reptilia”.
2. (#ulink_874f48ef-4ced-5284-a9b0-be5d2e279c92) He was not elected, but attracted some enthusiastic supporters, who greeted his platform appearances with cries of “Git the spurs oot and let’s git crackin’”.
3. (#ulink_23160aa7-2ddb-5bee-a779-8516c182f406) Hobbie (Halbert) Noble figures in two of the best-known Border ballads. In one he is a rescuer of Jock of the Side from Newcastle prison; the second ballad describes Hobbie’s own betrayal by one Simon Armstrong of the Mains to the English authorities. According to both ballads he was a Bewcastle man, outlawed for his crimes, and living with the Liddesdale Armstrongs. In fact there was a “Hobbe Noble” living in Bewcastle with others of his own surname and with the English Nixons in 1583 (Musgrave’s list); he may be the famous reiver of the ballads, since he was contemporary with Jock Armstrong of the Side, and with several Simon Armstrongs. But there is no record of his being outlawed, or going to Scotland, although it is interesting to note that the Nobles, English in 1583, were being referred to by 1596 as “leige subjects of Scotland”.
4. (#ulink_4454880c-079d-5a8b-8c8d-e0a235115684) Among the modern poets who were touched by the spirit of the Border ballads, Kipling is foremost. And possibly a poetic gift may be inherited across the centuries—it is at least interesting that one of the greatest poets of the twentieth century was an Eliot.
PART THREE (#ulink_44d4debb-1afb-561b-9a4a-eaa00e33e81a)
XI (#ulink_c5e1d4a2-322e-5f53-be79-ad82c21b7100)
Lance and steel bonnet (#ulink_c5e1d4a2-322e-5f53-be79-ad82c21b7100)
The Border robber was a specialist, and needed special equipment, the most important part of which was his horse. “They reckon it a great disgrace for anyone to make a journey on foot,” wrote Leslie, and Froissart had noted two centuries earlier how the Scots at war “are all a-horseback … the common people on little hackneys and geldings.” The Border horses, called hobblers or hobbys, were small and active, and trained to cross the most difficult and boggy country, “and to get over where our footmen could scarce dare to follow.”
Such precious animals naturally attracted legislation, particularly in England, where horses were in short supply. In the late 1500s their export to Scotland was strictly banned; Hunsdon “condemde sundry” for this treason in 1587, and complained that English gentlemen were involved in the illicit trade. It was a well-broken law in both directions, for Scotland had banned horse export twenty years earlier, with no great success.
The Scots had long been noted horse-breeders, so much so that legislation was occasionally passed to restrain production. By statute of 1214 every Scot of property must own at least one horse, and in 1327 the country could put 20,000 cavalry into the field. Export to England at that time was highly profitable, and was carried on even by men of rank. The Stuart kings imported from Hungary, Poland, and Spain to improve the breed, and there emerged the small, swift unusually hardy mounts which in James IV’s time were reputed to be able to cover as much as 150 miles in a day. They must have been short miles.
However, even allowing for exaggeration, such horses were ideal all-purpose mounts both for peace-time raiders and war-time light cavalry. They enabled the Border riders to muster and move men at high speed over remarkable distances. A leader like young Buccleuch could raise 2000 horse at short notice, able to strike faster and at far greater range than would have seemed credible to an ordinary cavalry commander; between sixty and eighty miles a day seems to have been within their capability.
(#ulink_b24bd8c3-c577-52d8-a6d6-c25d58de1f8c) In addition, the horses were cheap to buy and easy to maintain: there is evidence that they did not even need shoeing.
The Border rider, as he sat his hobbler, was a most workmanlike figure, far more streamlined than the ordinary cavalryman of his time. His appearance was “base and beggarly” by military standards, and this applied to the lords as well as to the lowly. “All clad a lyke in jackes cooverd with whyte leather, dooblettes of the same or of fustian, and most commonly all white hosen,” Patten noted after Pinkie (1547). “Not one with either cheine, brooch, ryng or garment of silke that I coold see.… This vilnes of port was the caus that so many of their great men and gentlemen wear kyld and so fewe saved. The outwarde sheaw … whearby a stranger might discern a villain from a gentleman, was not amoong them to be seen.”
On his head the rider wore the steel bonnet, which in the early part of the century was usually the salade hat, basically a metal bowl with or without a peak, or the burgonet, a rather more stylish helmet which, in its lightest form, was open and peaked. These head-pieces, many of which would be home-made by local smiths, were gradually replaced in Elizabethan times by the morion, with its curved brim, comb, and occasional ear pieces.
Over his shirt the rider might wear a mail coat, but the more normal garment was the jack, a quilted coat of stout leather sewn with plates of metal or horn for added protection. It was far lighter than armour, and almost as effective against cuts and thrusts; backs and breasts of steel might be worn by the wealthier Borderers, but for horsemen whose chief aim was to travel light they were a mixed blessing. The Scots Borderers were officially recognised by the Privy Council as “licht horsemen” who were not obliged to serve in heavy armour during war; the English Borderers, when employed on campaigns, were similarly used as scouts and “prickers”.
Leather boots and breeches completed the clothing, which was without badges except in war-time, when the riders wore kerchiefs tied round their arms as signs of recognition, as well as the crosses of St George or St Andrew, according to their nationality—or their allegiance. Embroidered letters attached to their caps were also used for war-time identification. (There was a suspicion in the English Army in the 1540s that the English March riders used these identifying signs not only to be known to each other, but “that thei used them for collusion, and rather bycaus thei might be knowen to th’enemie, as the enemies are knowen to them, for thei have their markes too, and so in conflict either each to spare other, or gently each to take other. Indede men have beeen mooved the rather to thinke so, bycaus sum of their crosses—the English red cross—were so narrow, and so singly set on, that a puff of wynde might blowed them from their breastes.”)
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This light and serviceable costume, so suitable for the cut-and-run activities of its wearer, reflected also the changing military patterns of the day. The sixteenth century saw a revolution in warfare; it was the bridge between the medieval knights and men-at-arms, with their heavy armour and weapons, and the age of firepower.
Gunpowder had come into its own, and when it was discovered that mail did not stop a bullet, the whole concept of protective equipment changed. Long leather boots took the place of greaves, plate gave way to the reinforced coat, and the knight’s casque to the open helmet.
The great change, of course, was in missile weapons. For two centuries England’s military thinking had been dominated by one of the most lethal hand weapons in the history of warfare: the six-foot long bow with which the English peasant had mastered the powers of chivalry. Naturally, England was reluctant to change from this proven battle-winner, and in this as in most other military developments she lagged behind the Continent, even under such a war-conscious monarch as Henry VIII.
The hand-gun v. long bow controversy, which reached a climax in Elizabeth’s reign, was a bitter one. The bow school, apart from their sentimental reasons, urged the efficiency of the archer who could despatch twelve shots a minute into a man-sized target at 200 paces (practice at shorter ranges was actually forbidden in Henry’s time); against this the new arquebus could fire only ten to twelve shots an hour when Elizabeth came to the throne, although the rate had risen to thirty-five to forty by 1600. An arquebus was unsuitable in wet weather, it was cumbersome, and it cost 30s. (A bow cost about 6s 8d, with arrows). The Earl of Sussex, on the Border in 1569, demanded archers, not “ill-furnished harquebusiers”, and local opinion seems to have supported him; the tenants of Home Cultram, as late as 1596, rejected calivers as too expensive.
But the fire-arms lobby, which included such influential figures as the veteran Sir Roger Williams, eventually got their way; in the 1560s the majority of English infantry carried the long bow, but by 1600 it was virtually obsolete in the country as a whole. On the Border, however, where a light, rapid-fire weapon was needed, the bow lived longer; in Leith Ward, Cumberland, in 1580, the muster roll showed over 800 bowmen to nine arquebusiers, and in the 1583 muster the English West March counted 2500 archers, with no mention of fire-arms. Hundreds of hand-guns with ammunition were sent to Berwick in 1592, but the powder was unreliable, and as for the guns, “when they were shot in, some of them brake, and hurte divers mennes hands.” In the same year Richard Lowther asked only for bows for the defence of Carlisle.
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Like the local peasant infantry, the Border riders also used the bow, but there is increasing mention as the century progresses of their carrying arquebuses, the light pieces called calivers, and the dag, the heavy hand-gun which was the tough equivalent of the modern large-calibre pistol.
The principal close-quarter weapons of the Border foot soldier were the bill, the long cleaver-cum-pike which had lasted through the Middle Ages, the spear, and a local arm called the Jedburgh axe, with a distinctive round cutting edge. Swords are seldom mentioned in the English muster rolls, but the March riders of both sides certainly carried them, occasionally with small shields.
However, in peace or war, the rider’s favourite weapon was the lance. These were sometimes over thirteen feet long, but usually must have been shorter. They were used couched, for thrusting, and also for throwing. Camden describes the Borderers on horseback spearing salmon in the Solway; anyone who has tried to spear fish on foot will appreciate the expertise required to do it from the saddle.
Eure pronounced on this Border skill without qualification: he found the March riders better at handling lances on horseback than Yorkshiremen, and “better prickers in a chase as knowing the mosses, more nimble on foot.”
This then was the Borderer’s armoury, for war-time campaign or peace-time raid. So if one mounts the reiver on his hobbler, with steel cap, jack, lance, cutting-sword, dagger, and hand-gun,
(#ulink_839ce5d2-b285-598f-a6f9-55d4027edc67) he is fully equipped and ready to be pointed at the target—farm, village or grazing herd, peel tower or sheiling. This, quite literally, was his day’s work.
1. (#ulink_5471ee59-b106-5f9f-84c2-15b0c69a22fc) Froissart says twenty to twenty-four leagues a day, which is around seventy miles. It has been suggested that this is an incredible distance for armed riders, and that for “leagues” one should read “miles”. But Howard Pease has produced evidence to show that when Froissart said leagues he meant just that (i.e. three miles), and as we know that in 1603 Robert Carey rode close on 400 miles from London to Edinburgh in sixty hours (and took a nasty wound on the way, which reduced his speed) it seems safe to credit Froissart’s estimate.
As to their mustering speed, there is abundant evidence, in Warden’s correspondence and elsewhere, of the Borderers’ ability to be armed and riding in force in a remarkably short time after an alarm; John Maxwell of Herries reckoned that 350 horsemen could be assembled in thirty minutes.
2. (#ulink_9f7674d5-18e0-5e6f-8f3e-1b910098fef8) The authority again is William Patten, a shrewd Londoner who accompanied Somerset’s Scottish expedition in 1547. One of his army acquaintances was young William Cecil, later Lord Burghley; the two of them kept journals of the expedition, which Patten used when he published his account of the campaign.
3. (#ulink_75423ff0-07b5-5267-a315-03f406f2eab9) Possibly the fact that one Scottish monarch, James II, had lost his life through a bursting cannon in 1460 helped to prejudice the Scots against fire-arms. Hertford noted in the 1540s that the “Scotishe borderers … love no gonnes, ne will abyde withyn the hearyng of the same”.
4. (#ulink_9bdb5f4b-f680-5b3b-a6c7-1e56546cb7d1) Basically the reiver’s equipment was not very different from that which the English Border light horseman was supposed to carry for government service, and which the Bishop of Durham defined as “a steele cap, a coate of plate, stockings and sleeves of plate, bootes and spurres, a Skottisch short sworde and a dagger, an horsemans staffe and a case of pistolls”.
XII (#ulink_dc297bdf-2d7e-54ee-a740-fc16c2688158)
How the reivers rode (#ulink_dc297bdf-2d7e-54ee-a740-fc16c2688158)
The reivers themselves, as has already been mentioned, might be anything from peers to farm hands; some were full-time professional raiders, others divided their time fairly evenly between agriculture and stealing, and some made only occasional forays, when times were hard or they were offered a particularly tempting quarry. They commonly rode in family parties—Liddesdale raids were almost invariably made up of permutations of Elliots, Armstrongs, Crosers, and Nixons, just as the Redesdale and Tynedale incursions consisted largely of Charltons, Dodds, Milburns, and Robsons.
Obviously raiders got to know each other, and there is strong evidence of professional loyalty, the same men riding in each other’s company again and again, whether or not they belonged to the same family. This professional tie often spanned the Border, and it was common for Englishmen to ride with Scottish bands, and vice versa. The outlaw operations, of course, were international; gangs like Sandy’s Bairns, with whom Kinmont Willie rode latterly, would welcome recruits from anywhere.
Unfortunately there were no Pepyses among the reivers, to leave a day-to-day journal of their activities. So we can only guess how many raids were casual affairs, and how many were carefully plotted weeks in advance. We cannot know for sure if some raider’s wife, aware that her larder was running short, ever did lay a dish of spurs before her husband as a hint to be busy. One can imagine an Armstrong, in his tower, finding time hanging heavy and whistling in his sons and cousins for a spur-of-the-moment foray to Redesdale or Gilsland; they would perhaps enlist a couple of Elliots on the way, or pick up a specialist in the shape of a rider who knew the target area particularly well. On the other hand, a leader like Buccleuch was, as we know, capable of the most meticulous planning and intelligence work before he mounted a foray.
Frequently raids began from what was called a “tryst”, a prearranged meeting-place where the last-minute details were settled. These were usually well-known landmarks, and when a raid had set off without its full muster, a sign would be left to indicate the direction taken. According to Scott, one method was to cut the leader’s name or signal in the turf, the arrangement of the letters indicating the path to be followed.
Everyone who writes about the reiver’s technique invariably quotes Bishop Leslie, in one of his various translations. This is Camden’s, quoted by Scott; it is worth remembering that it applies to both Scottish and English alike.
“They sally out of their own borders, in the night, in troops, through unfrequented by-ways, and many intricate windings. All the day time, they refresh themselves and their horses, in lurking holes they had pitched upon before, till they arrive in the dark at those places they have a design upon. As soon as they have seized upon the booty, they, in like manner, return home in the night, through blind ways, and fetching many a compass. The more skilful any captain is to pass through those wild deserts, crooked turnings, and deep precipices, in the thickest mists and darkness, his reputation is the greater, and he is looked upon as a man of an excellent head.
“And they are so very cunning, that they seldom have their booty taken from them … unless sometimes, when, by the help of blood-hounds following them exactly upon the tract, they may chance to fall into the hands of their adversaries. When being taken, they have so much persuasive eloquence, and so many smooth insinuating words at command, that if they do not move their judges, nay, and even their adversaries (notwithstanding the severity of their natures), to have mercy, yet they incite them to admiration and compassion.”
His lordship the bishop writes with such feeling and descriptive skill that one wonders if he wasn’t out with the Armstrongs himself on some occasion. He has the exact mood of the business, and everything he says is consistent with the voluminous records of raids left in Border documents. What he was describing was a long-distance foray, such as might be made by Liddesdale riders far into the English Middle March, with only a small number of men involved and the need for passing undetected of the first importance.
Raids varied in size. Bands of a dozen to fifty riders were normal, but there were one-man operations, and great forays in which upwards of two or three thousand reivers took part. The objectives also varied, from a single animal—as in the case of the black horse which helped to rekindle the Maxwell-Johnstone feud—to an entire town, or even several towns. Distance was no object for rustlers who were expert at covering their traces, or who ventured out in sufficient numbers to be able to defy pursuit. Border raids are recorded within three miles of Edinburgh, and as far south as Yorkshire. What is striking is that the thieves far more often than not got away with it, which suggests that Leslie’s skilful captains and men of excellent heads were by no means uncommon.
Night-time was the popular hour for riding, although day forays of all sizes were frequent. There is some evidence that the reivers liked moonlight—“There’ll be moonlight again” is a slogan long associated with the Scott family—but even more to suggest that they preferred complete darkness. The expert guides seem to have known their ground to an inch, and the kind of leader typified by Hobbie Noble, the legendary English fugitive, could pick his way through the wastes at night with ease.
The size of the foray naturally dictated the technique employed. While small bands depended heavily on stealth and secrecy, the great raids went much more openly; they had less to fear from a hot trod or the country’s rising against them, since they were strong enough to fight off anything short of an army. Consequently, their leaders planned these forays like miniature military campaigns, often spending several days in enemy territory, or even longer, depending on the danger of the general situation.
A master of the large-scale foray technique was that old Walter Scott of Buccleuch who flourished in the first part of the sixteenth century, was an inveterate English-hater, spent several terms in confinement in Scotland for political and other reasons, and was eventually cut down by the Kerrs in the great Kerr – Scott feud. When he swept into the English Middle March in the winter of 1532 it was with 3000 lances, most of whom he held in reserve while smaller forays were detached at chosen targets. The main body thus served the double purpose of base camp, established on an English village, and ambush for any English trods which might pursue Buccleuch’s smaller raiding bands.
The ambush was a common variation of the large and medium-sized raids, the reivers leaving a strong party posted on their proposed return route, so that pursuers chasing a raid frequently found themselves surrounded and beset by an unexpectedly large enemy force. This was a favourite stratagem of the Armstrongs, who practised it memorably against Lord Dacre in 1528 (see pp. 233–4).
The raiding season, although it was never closed in practice, was autumn to spring, when the cattle and their owners were in their permanent winter quarters in the valleys. As the summer waned, anxiety grew along the frontier; “the longer the nights growe, the worse they will be”, wrote Robert Carey one late August, and young Scrope in November was lamenting: “The depe of winter and most unquiet season is come upon us.” Carey made a study of this aspect of reiving, and pronounced the last months of the year as the worst, “for then are the nights longest, theyre horses at hard meat, and will ride best, cattel strong, and will drive farthest.”
Of those closing months, the worst period was from Michaelmas (September 29) to Martinmas (November 11): “then are the fells good and drie and cattle strong to dryve”. The dead of winter was comparatively less troublesome, because of foul weather and the weaker state of the cattle. This weakness had reached a peak by Candlemas (February 2), when with the nights growing shorter and oats dearer, the reivers’ horses were less well fed and ready to be put to grass.
Thus Robert Carey, waxing technical on an admittedly technical subject: he even noticed that the thieves “will never lightly steal hard before Lammas (August 1), for fear of the assizes, but beeing once past, they returne to their former trade”. In fact it was probably not the assizes, but the removal of the cattle to the high sheilings during the summer that restrained the robbers. But his observations show up some of the finer points of reiving, although judging by Border records the pattern of raiding was spread more generally over the year than his findings suggest.
As to any geographical pattern of raids, it is difficult to say more than that the general trend from Scotland was south-eastwards, the Western end of the frontier containing by far the most troublesome elements, while from England the Middle March raiders forayed in all directions. Edward Aglionby’s report to Burghley of 1592 is quite definite that the English West and Middle Marches suffered most from Liddesdale, but that Teviotdale “doth never offend the West Border”. Lord Willoughby, at Berwick, was equally positive that all the spoils in the English East March were committed over the Tweed fords.
But it is dangerous to take these generalisations too much for granted, just as it is unwise to emphasise too strongly the importance of the so-called “reivers’ roads” which cross the Border at various points. It is tempting for a geographer to pick on well-defined paths and passages, and suggest that these were used habitually by the rustlers. The last thing a Border reiver wanted was to follow a known route, especially on the way home. There were, by contemporary calculation, more than forty passages into the English Middle March,
(#ulink_6e1e904e-ee92-5bfd-99bc-2a74951c0160) but unless the Border character has changed considerably, they were probably often ignored in favour of going “over the tops”. Men who know their business can take cattle over some unpromising country.
One thing is sure: the ground most often crossed by raiders was the Bewcastle Waste, a wild area of fell and moor lying south-east of Liddesdale on the English side. It was the very hub of the Middle and West Marches, and there is ample documentary confirmation of Lord Dacre’s assertion in 1528, that “theye come thorow Bewcastelldale, and retirnes, for the moste parte, the same waye agayne”.
But not invariably, according to Thomas Musgrave fifty years later. Writing to Burghley, he described two Liddesdale routes quite specifically; one, directed at the Coquet Valley, skirted Bewcastle to the east and ran “by the Perlfell without the Horse Head near Kelder, and so along abone Chepechase”. The second, to Tyne Water, was by Kershopehead, skirting Gele Crage, and by Tarnbek, Bogells Gar, Spye Crag, and Lampert. Musgrave was an expert frontiersman, and his information can be relied on. But these were routes which would be fashionable for a time—as in the Elliot – Fenwick feud; for the most part, the reivers were liable to ride anywhere, at any time, in any numbers.
To understand how good their scouting and woodcraft was, we should see what they were up against, quite apart from the dark, the weather, and the rough country. On the English side the most expert of all Wardens, Lord Wharton, had established a formidable guard system in the 1550s, whereby the entire frontier, from Solway to Berwick, was under watch night and day, from October to mid-March; local gentlemen were made responsible for arming and horsing their people, and setting and inspecting the watches, which were posted on hilltops, fords, valleys, and every conceivable passage over the Marches. Wharton, a hard man who believed in hanging first and asking questions later, reinforced his system with harsh penalties for neglect of duty; it was death not to resist raiders,
(#ulink_39d14971-a7be-59b5-a2f0-ddc878037dd5) all intercourse with Scots was forbidden, and gentlemen were under the strictest instructions to see his rules enforced. He knew his Borderers, and was determined to stamp out any fifth column activities on the raiders’ behalf.
Nor could the reivers count on watches always being in the same place; small mobile patrols were also used, and “plump” watches of unusual strength were liable to be set up as occasion demanded.
To man the frontier efficiently, about 1000 watchers were necessary; it follows that in spite of the regulations, there was some defaulting. Young Scrope found difficulty in maintaining plump watches of forty horse in the West, and at Morpeth in the winter of 1597 there was a flat refusal to stand watches, so that a plump watch had to be moved in. Possibly owing to shortage of men, day watches seem to have been indifferently kept in young Scrope’s time.
Watches on the Scottish side seem to have been less organised, which may be significant, but here as in England there was a system of beacons on hilltops and the roofs of towers to give the alarm. Owners of towers were obliged to light their beacons on learning of any fray by night; the penalty for failure was a 3s 4d fine. In Liddesdale the approach of a raid in daylight was signalled by spreading a white sheet over a prominent bush on a hillside or crest, this being repeated all along the valley.
