LIKE so many people with an interest in Scottish history I was intrigued when the author George RR Martin stated that his brutal Red Wedding incident in Game of Thrones was based on actual events in Scotland – the infamous Black Dinner in 1440 and the Massacre of Glencoe in 1692.

I have already given my account of the latter, and indeed am currently working on a novel based around that inhuman tragedy visited upon Clan Macdonald. As I indicated last week, however, the Black Dinner and the later murder of the Earl of Douglas by James II, King of Scots – I will refer to it as the Stirling Murder – are the events which I portray today, hopefully to shed new light on these incidents which besmirched the reputation of an otherwise successful monarch.

Readers will know I am a fan of Nigel Tranter and he writes about both events in his novels The Lion’s Whelp and The Black Douglas which should be read in that order.

Perhaps it was one of these two books who influenced George RR Martin to compose the Red Wedding events. The author said: “That was the hardest scene I’ve ever had to write. It’s two-thirds of the way through the book, but I skipped over it when I came to it. So the entire book was done and there was still that one chapter left. Then I wrote it. It was like murdering two of your children.”

For sake of spoiler avoidance, I won’t mention the similarities, but there’s no doubt that Martin relied on the Black Dinner and the Massacre of Glencoe as his inspiration, and good writer and historian that he is, Martin also indicated just why those real events were so horrific and have come down to us as bywords for infamy.

He said: “It was stolen from history. Hospitality laws were real in Dark Ages society. A host and guest were not allowed to harm each other even if they were enemies. By violating that law, the phrase is, they “condemn themselves for all time”.

How true of James II. Let’s deal with the Black Dinner first.

As we saw last week, King James I was assassinated in quite horrific circumstances in Blackfriars Monastery in Perth on February 21, 1437. His wife Queen Joan and her son, now James II, escaped from the carnage, and we can be pretty certain that the events of that night left the six-year-old king quite traumatised. Certainly Queen Joan was injured in the affray, and according to an eyewitness account of the assassination, she only escaped death herself because one of the conspirators said they shouldn’t attack a woman.

Joan Beaufort was a formidable woman, however, and moved quickly to have her son crowned and the assassins captured and executed. She was going to act as regent for her son, but in those misogynistic days Joan needed male support to rule.

At a time when there was a shortage of senior magnates – James I had “disposed” of a lot of them – she had to rely on Archibald, 5th Earl of Douglas, Sir William Crichton and Sir Alexander Livingston, the ruling King’s Council making them the keepers of Scotland’s greatest castles, Edinburgh and Stirling, respectively.

Douglas was no politician though he was made effectively the military commander of Scotland, but Crichton and Livingston were intriguers of a different order, and the struggle between them for control of the young king was nasty and prolonged.

After Archibald Douglas died of plague in 1439, he was succeeded by his 15-year-old son William, the 6th Earl, who has come down to us as a haughty and ambitious type, though with the anti-Douglas faction writing the history that may or may not be true. Crichton kept young James in Edinburgh Castle but Joan preferred Livingston and she smuggled her son to Livingston in Stirling. Not a good move – Joan had married Sir James Stewart of Lorne and fearing he might be a threat, Livingston locked both the Queen Mother and her husband inside Stirling Castle in August 1439. In reality, Livingston feared that Joan would become co-regent with Stewart, but after a few weeks in the Castle, Joan was allowed out by the Council on condition that she state that Livingston had acted out of concern for her.

MEANWHILE, Crichton, now the self-appointed Lord Chancellor of Scotland, swooped on Stirling and kidnapped James II, taking him back to Edinburgh Castle where the young king’s education continued. Livingston acquiesced, for the two men now realised they had a young rival for their role as the effective rulers of Scotland. William Douglas, now 16 and head of his house, began to agitate for a role in the governing of Scotland in place of his father. It was known that young James was fond of him and he treated the king like a young cousin. The Earl went too far when he made what was almost a Royal Progress at the head of the massive Douglas army, said to have been awe-inspiring to King James – Crichton and Livingston may well have decided on the fate of the young Earl of Douglas there and then.

In early November 1440, William and his 10-year-old brother David were invited to attend an evening meal with the King, the event arranged by Crichton. Here is a brief and near contemporary account of what happened: “The Earl of Douglas came forward to Edinburgh, and entered into the castle; where, by outward countenance, he was received with great joy and gladness, and banquetted royally, with all delicates that could be gotten; and ever that he should take no suspicion of any deceit to follow thereupon.

“Then, at the last, many of the Earl’s friends being caled off the town, and opportunity serving, with consent and advice of the governor, who came then, of set purpose, to Edinburgh, when the dinner was finished, and all the delicate courses taken away, the chancellor (Sir William Crichton) presented a bull’s head before the Earl of Douglas, which was a sign and token of condemnation to the death; but the Earl and his brother beholding this manifold treason, with sad mind and driry countenance, start up from the board, and made to leap at some place where they might anywise get out; but then, from hand, a company of armed men rushed out round about them, who, breaking all hospitality, lead them to the Castle-hill, with Sir Malcolm Fleming of Cumbernauld, and other gentlemen their assisters and familiars, and shook their heads from them.”

George Martin has no doubt about what happened: “They brought out a covered plate and put it in front of the Earl and revealed it was the head of a black boar – the symbol of death. And as soon as he saw it, he knew what it meant.”

In short order, Crichton accused the two boys of treason and held a mock trial after which he ordered them to be beheaded, and for good measure, the Douglas boys’ chief retainer, Sir Malcolm Fleming of Cumbernauld, was also executed three days later.

The interesting part is that several accounts tell of the distraught young King James pleading for the lives of his Douglas friends at their “trial”. Whether he did or not, the 10-year-old king’s name was forever associated with what became known as the Black Dinner.

The dead earl’s great-uncle, James the Gross, inherited the earldom and because he took no revenge was assumed to have been in on the plot. Again, that version was not written by Douglas adherents while the truth may be somewhere in between – James may well have been upset by his great-nephews’ death but at nearly 70 he wasn’t going to risk his new found power and status, especially as he probably guessed his corpulent ill-health meant he was not going to be around for long, and indeed he died in March, 1443.

Nigel Tranter had no doubt who was the villain of the piece – Lord Crichton, though interestingly, James never had Crichton charged with anything. Livingston joined the Douglas faction and lived long enough to see his son, also Alexander, executed for treason against James in 1450.

There’s an old rhyme about the Black Dinner.

Edinburgh Castle, towne and toure, God grant thou sink for sinne!

And that even for the black dinoir, Erl Douglas gat therin.

Apart from some ambassadorial letters, there is one major source of fact about James II and that is the Auchinleck Chronicle.

It deals more prosaically with the Stirling Murder, the real black mark on the reputation of James II. He had spent several years of his reign delicately balancing the power of the Douglases against the likes of Crichton and his own allies, but eventually he reached his majority and having married a French princess, Marie de Guelders at 18, James acted first against the Livingstons and then the mighty William, 8th Earl of Douglas, whose properties at Wigtown he seized while the Earl was in Rome on a pilgrimage. According to the Chronicle and other near contemporaneous accounts, there is little doubt about what happened next. The 8th Earl saw that James was tiring of Douglas power, so he allied himself with the Earls of Crawford and Ross, the latter also the Lord of the Isles, in a bond of mutual protection.

James was furious and summoned William Douglas to Stirling Castle. The Earl was so worried that he demanded a guarantee of safe conduct from the king, which was granted. That safe conduct and the ancient laws of hospitality are what make the events of February 22, 1452, so heinous.

James urged the earl to give up his bond but such an oath, usually sworn as a holy vow, was unbreakable in those days and Douglas would not relent, even after almost two days of arguing.

It is this point that we must consider James’s personal character. Due to a crimson birthmark, James had long been known as “fiery face” but did that nickname also come from a volcanic temper? Remember, this was a young man who grew up without a father’s advice and guidance, and was often separated from his mother, so did that lack of parental control breed a recklessness in him? As there are no records and no other evidence than the modus operandi, it’s no use trying to psychologically profile this killer, for that is what he became at the end of his dealings with the earl.

The heated argument exploded in one-sided violence. James drew his knife and plunged it at least twice into William Douglas. His attendants joined in and in the words of the Chronicle, Sir Patrick Gray “struck out his brains with a pole ax”. The Stirling Murder was completed by the lifeless body of the earl being unceremoniously hurled out of a Castle window. It was found to have 26 stab wounds, almost as many as James’s own father received in Perth just 15 years previously.

Having no children, William’s title passed to his brother James, and the 9th Earl of Douglas duly marched with a small army to Stirling where he paraded a horse with his late brother’s “safe conduct” letter attached to its tail. James eventually did succeed in having the Douglases exiled. James was also exonerated by Parliament, but his reputation was trashed. Even though he became a good king by the standards of his time, James II would forever be associated with foul and bloody murders – one he did not commit and one he most certainly did.