On the 1st of July, 1312, a dark and tragic deed was enacted on the gentle eminence of Blacklow, where the Avon winds through a calm and peaceful scene. The sun shone brightly on the flashing waters of the river, on the summer foliage of wood and grove, and on the polished steel mail of armed men, for the English barons, Arundel, Lancaster, and Hereford, were actors in the tragedy, and their banners waved from the ranks of numerous men-at-arms, pikemen, and archers, for at length, by mingled violence and guile, they had won into their own hands the life of the King’s favourite, and him they now called upon to conclude the drama of life with what spirit and courage he could command for so trying an occasion. Then stood forward the handsome and talented young knight, the favourite of his unhappy monarch, hurried by rough hands to the fatal block, and the grim headsman performed his unholy office, striking off the head of Piers Gaveston, sometime Earl of Cornwall, and—with all his faults—an accomplished knight, deserving of a better fate.

Chief of the self-constituted judges who thus presumed to rid themselves of a personal enemy, was Thomas Earl of Lancaster, the grandson of Henry the Third, and the most potent noble in the whole realm of England. To this exalted person, a prince of many virtues, Gaveston had humbled himself, and pleaded, but vainly pleaded, for mercy. Lancaster could not forgive the gibes of his fallen enemy. The “stage-player” and “old hog” now held the life of the offender in his hands; his proud heart indignantly remembered the shame and mortification of that day when, in the lists of the tournament, his haughty crest was abased to the very dust, as the lance of the upstart Gaveston hurled him from his saddle. So Lancaster avenged himself for defeat and unmerited insult, and the rude barons declared that he had done well.

But Edward of CÆrnarvon remembered the deed of shame, and waited, as weak and gentle-minded men will sometimes wait, until circumstances should enable him to demand of Lancaster a full reckoning for the blood that had been shed. In the first bitterness of his wrath he attempted to meet the barons in the field, but they were too powerful for so unwarlike a monarch as Edward to contend with, and being averse to endanger the peace of the Kingdom by attacking the King in his own person, they submitted to his clemency, and were restored to favour. Persuaded to pardon the crime Edward would not legalize it by declaring Piers Gaveston a traitor, although importuned to take this step by the most powerful of the barons.

Time passed, and all men forgot the Gascon knight Piers Gaveston, or only remembered him to blame his follies and exult in the sharp and sudden punishment that overtook him.

After the triumphs achieved by Edward the I. in his attempts to subjugate Scotland, and destroy its national life by ruthlessly slaying her patriots with the soldier’s sword or the headsman’s axe, it was with extreme bitterness that the English endured the humiliation of defeated armies and invaded provinces. They had taken to the sword, and when that sword fell from the hands of Edward at Burgh-on-Sands it was seized by Randolph and Douglas, and mercilessly it was used, until in the invaded, blood-stained Northern provinces of England the fear and hatred of the Scots became a passion, and he was indeed a bold or foolish man who presumed to enter into negotiations with the national enemy.

Naturally King Edward’s hold upon the loyalty of his subjects was weakened by the Northern troubles, for the stubborn English mind regarded the red-handed crimes of the father as the virtuous enterprise of a great monarch, and contrasted with his success the feeble efforts of his son: it was the glory of Berwick and Falkirk contrasted with the disasters of Bannockburn and Berwick: it was the ravaged, outraged Scotland of the first Edward contrasted with the wasted and blood-stained Northumbria of the second Edward.

So troubles thickened around the life-path of Edward of CÆrnarvon. His authority was subverted, and so low had he descended in the estimation of his feudatories, that Queen Isabella was denied admission into the King’s Castle of Leeds, in Kent, then held by the Lord of Badlesmere, under his majesty’s authority, and for his majesty’s use. The Queen’s attendants naturally insisted upon being admitted, and endeavoured to force their way into the castle, when the garrison proceeded to extremities, and several of her majesty’s suite were slain. This high-handed proceeding of Badlesmere caused a revulsion of feeling in favour of the King, and availing himself of the transient emotion, he gathered together a powerful army. For once his actions were energetic, and his blows fell heavily. He took Badlesmere prisoner, and loaded him with chains, at the same time inflicting a heavy and well-merited punishment upon his lawless vassals. He made an unexpected visit to the Lords of the Marches, and captured and hanged twelve knights. Like all weak-minded men he knew no moderation in the hour of success, and presumed more upon a transient advantage than a great monarch would have done if successful in the utter destruction of a hostile party.

This sudden change in the royal fortunes alarmed the barons, and many made submission; but Edward cast them into prison, and seized their castles. Great Lancaster was now sorely discomposed, and learned, too late, to fear the monarch whose authority he had so openly slighted. It had been long suspected that this potent noble had entered into a confederacy with the Scots, to avert the doom which would probably overtake him if deserted by the English barons, or defeated by the royal forces. The time had now arrived when it was necessary to call in the national enemy to his rescue; and in this crisis of his fortunes he openly avowed his unpatriotic measures, took up arms, and urgently appealed to the King of Scotland for assistance. Before those redoubtable warriors, Moray and Douglas, assembled their men-at-arms and pikemen, the promptitude of Edward had prevailed.

Finding that he could not maintain himself against King Edward until succoured by the Scottish reinforcements, Lancaster marched northward, and was joined by the Earl of Hereford. This accession of strength did not, however, enable him to assume the offensive, although it encouraged him to make a stand at Burton-upon-Trent, where he took up a position that commanded the bridge, in the vain hope of holding the royal forces at bay, and of receiving reinforcements from the disaffected barons.

The noble blood that had already been shed in requital of treason against the crown had operated forcibly upon the reasoning faculties of Edward’s violent and restless barons, and they prudently kept their steeds in stall, and swords in scabbard, leaving Lancaster and Hereford, with their band of adherents, to make the best of their quarrel with the King, alone, and unaided, unless they could succeed in reaching the Scottish border and forming a junction with the Scots under Randolph and Douglas. It would have fared ill with the nation if Lancaster’s design had succeeded, for although Robert Bruce was too wise a monarch to attempt to annex any of the English territory, being satisfied to strictly maintain the integrity of the Kingdom of Scotland, yet Lancaster might have involved the nation in the distractions of a wide-extending civil war, for placed in so desperate a position he would necessarily have urged the Scots to press any advantage that their arms might have achieved, and although the resistance of the English would have been the rising of the nation against a foreign invader, yet Lancaster might have succeeded in winning over some of the barons, especially as Edward knew not the art of attaching them to his interests, but was possessed of an unhappy facility in disgusting them by his too-obvious lack of the qualities necessary to a great prince in the middle ages.

Lancaster failed in his proposed operations, and was obliged to beat a hasty retreat to secure himself from the advancing royalists. On the 16th March he approached Boroughbridge, to find it defended by the Warden of the Western Marches, Sir Andrew Harcla, and the Sheriff of Yorkshire, Sir Simon Ward. The crisis had come: but the conflict was not to win a sceptre, or a protectorship, but to escape from the axe and block wherewith traitors were requited for their misdeeds in the days of the Plantagenets.

In happier and more fortunate times Earl Lancaster had bestowed the accolade of knighthood upon Andrew Harcla, and he now endeavoured to induce the loyal knight to make common cause with him against King Edward. Harcla was too prudent a man to take so rash and ruinous a step, and Lancaster drew up his soldiers to attempt to force the old wooden bridge, which spanned the river Ure.

The hasty levies which Harcla and Ward had called to arms consisted largely of northern archers, famous for their skill with the bow, and they were strongly posted at the head of the bridge. To ford the river was impossible, it being sixty yards wide at that part; to follow the course of the river and seek to cross at some other point, with Ward and Harcla marching en rapport on the opposite side of the river, and with the royal troops nigh at hand, closing in upon their rear, was to risk an almost inevitable and irremediable disaster. Lancaster’s one path to freedom was by the storming of the bridge, and they accordingly prepared for their last passage-at-arms.

The archers were ordered forward to clear the bridge, and a deadly trial of skill commenced; the long, keenly-barbed shafts sweeping like a hail of death from end to end of the bridge: in a moment the dead lay thick at either end, and the brave and determined archers of either army mutually faced with admirable courage the fierce sleet of death that smote them down in bloody heaps. It could not last: the superiority of the northern archers was beyond dispute, and Lancaster ordered back the remains of his archers to a less exposed position, to make room for bills and pikes, and the lances of the dismounted men-at-arms, for the bridge was too old and full of holes to admit of a charge of horse. A violent conflict ensued, blood was spilled freely, and the bridge was heaped with the slain, for the old Northumbrian war-fury rose to the fierce music of clashing steel and resonant war-cries, and the defensive position of the royal troops, so deeply massed at the head of the bridge, gave them every advantage over their assailants, who could only bring a few lances to the front in the hopeless struggle to beat a bloody pathway for their escape. The insurgents fought desperately, as men entrapped, fighting for bare life, or exacting the heaviest price from the slayer. Hereford set a noble example to the unfortunate soldiers, charging on foot, sword in hand, the foremost man in the sanguinary toil; but an untoward stroke mocked his valour, and discouraged the devoted vassals who fought beneath his flag. Under the rickety old bridge, with its gaping timbers, lurked a felon Welshman, armed with a long spear, waiting for some noble victim, whom he could thus slay without risking his own person. The wished-for opportunity at length occurred, as Hereford headed the desperate charge of the Lancastrians, and sustained the fight in the vicinity of his concealed enemy. Suddenly, to the dismay and horror of his friends, he reeled and fell heavily upon the bridge; the pallor of death overspread his features, and the blood gushed from his wounds. The Welshman had gashed his bowels by a murderous stroke of his lance.

Lancaster now attempted to ford the river with a portion of his troops, but this proved impossible in face of the deadly superiority of the opposing archers. Sir Roger Clifford was wounded in the head; Sir William Sulley and Sir Roger Bernefield were slain outright; the Earl’s army was utterly demoralised, his loss was severe, and abandoning the last hope of forcing the river, he utterly lost heart, and retired into the town, taking refuge in a chapel.

De Harcla now ordered the royal troops to advance, and they rushed furiously over the bridge, bearing down the last feeble defence of the disheartened Lancastrians, and pursuing the scattered fugitives with a cruel ardour. Many archers and pikemen fell by sword and bill in that dark hour, vassals whose only crime was obedience to the lords whose badge they wore. Many knights and barons surrendered their swords, and were rudely haled away in bonds, to await the punishment that follows unsuccessful treason. That day the shadow of death gloomed over many a brave young soldier, whose valour might have been worthily employed in defending the northern borders against the incursions of the Scots.

Earl Lancaster was speedily surprised in the chapel where he had hidden his unhappy head. Exulting in having achieved so notable a capture, the rough soldiers laid rude hands upon him, whereon he sadly gazed upon the crucifix, and fervently and pathetically ejaculated, “Good Lord, I render myself unto Thee, and put me unto Thy mercy!” And great was his need of the Divine, for of human mercy he was to receive none. His knightly armour was torn off, never to be resumed, and, after many insults, he was conveyed to York, to be hailed with derisive cries of “King Arthur!” by the rude populace, as they cast the street mud at him. In his famous Castle of Pontefract was a new dungeon, built by his directions, and to which entrance was obtained by means of a trap-door in the turret of the tower. To Pontefract the Earl was carried, and lowered into this gloomy dungeon, so close a type of the grave to which he was hourly drawing near.

King Edward was not long in reaching Pontefract with his army; when Lancaster was brought to trial before his majesty and the loyal barons who marched with him. Among them were the Spencers, around whom he had hoped to draw the toils, and whom he regarded with indignation and disgust, as the rapacious, upstart favourites of a weak and foolish prince. The Spencers looked upon him as their most dangerous enemy, and Edward was only fierce when defending his favourites: who should speak of mercy in such an hour as that? Certainly none of Edward’s barons, however deeply they might deplore the fate of the noble Earl, for their plea for mercy might be regarded as a proof of disloyalty, and Edward was showing a leven of that savage spirit which existed so strongly in his father, and was shown by the butchering of so many noble Scotchmen on the scaffold.

The condemnation and sentence were speedily arrived at. Lancaster was to be hanged, drawn, and quartered, but being of the royal blood he was spared the torture which meaner traitors were subjected to, and the punishment was commuted to decollation.

On the 22nd of March the headsman waited for Lancaster, who was led to the scaffold, mounted on a miserable hack, insulted and reviled by the spectators, many of whom pelted him with mud. Calm and dignified, he implored the grace of heaven to enable him patiently to endure the sorrow of that bitter hour. The block was placed upon a hill near his castle, and he knelt with his face to the east, expecting the stroke of the executioner; but his pitiless enemies ordered him to turn to the north, from whence he had expected the Scottish succours, and in this position he received his death-blow.

The rebellion of Lancaster involved many noblemen in his ruin. Ninety-five knights and barons were cast into prison, and stood their trial for high treason. Other bloody executions followed with merciless barbarity. The lords Warren-de-Lisle, William de Fouchet, Thomas Mandute, Fitz-William, Henry de Bradburne, and William Cheney, suffered at Pontefract; and Clifford, Mowbray, and Deynville were decapitated at York. Thus bloodily did King Edward avenge the death of Gaveston—for there can be little doubt that the blow aimed at the Spencers, and the recollection of Gaveston’s doom, were the motives that moved him to such a cruel exercise of his power over his revolted and defeated subjects. Perhaps a more humane and generous policy might have averted the evil days, when he was left as helpless in the hands of his enemies as was Lancaster on the day of his defeat and capture. In reguerdon of his great service to the crown, Sir Andrew Harcla was exalted to the rank of Earl of Carlisle.

Among the revolted barons who fought with Lancaster and Hereford at Boroughbridge, was John de Mowbray, lord of the vale of Mowbray, of Kirby Malzeard, and Thirsk and Upsall Castles. Tradition still retains his name, and gives a strangely wild and legendary account of his death; probable enough, but not to be received as authentic history. In the breaking up of the Lancastrian troops, in the last stormy passage of the day, John de Mowbray, disengaging himself from the press, put spurs to his horse, and rode off, in the direction of Upsall Castle, near Thirsk, where he hoped to secure his safety. The royalists, however, were soon on his track, pressed him hard, and reached him as he was making his way through a lane, within sight of Upsall Castle. In a moment he was seized and unhelmed, and his throat stretched across the trunk of a fallen tree as one of the King’s men struck off his head. His armour was then stripped off and suspended from the branches of an oak tree, his body being cast into a way-side ditch. The tradition is preserved in the name of the lane which is still called Chop Head Loaning. The Rev. Thomas Parkinson, F.R.H.S., gives this tradition at length in his interesting volume, “Yorkshire Legends and Traditions,” and quotes Mrs. Susan K. Phillips’ poetical version of the legend—a poem which would have delighted Sir Walter Scott.

The blood-stained old wooden bridge across the Ure has long ceased to bear the traffic of the locality, and a handsome stone erection now replaces it. Harcla and Ward’s old fighting ground, that bristled with sword and spear and deadly bill on the 16th of March, 1321, is now more prosaic soil, burdened with houses, timber, and coal-yards; and is partly cleft by a short canal, the property of the River Ure Navigation. When the river was embanked in 1792, the excavators at the Old Banks, below the bridge, discovered some presumed relics of the battle, consisting of many fragments of arms and armour.