Do you love historical films? Join History vs. Hollywood to explore the real stories behind the movies you love, with humorous insights backed by the best historians and exclusive artwork. Subscribe for free and dive into the truth behind the screen!
Film Narrative
Word of the Rebellion travels from Glen to Glen. The flames spread, and the Scots rise up to burn out the English. William Wallace, now a leader of a band of freedom-loving men, slips out into the country and lays plans to drive out his enemies.
A castle is the first to fall. The Nobles who claim ownership over Scotland and the right of the first night with Scottish wives are smashed into the ground by the hammer of Scottish liberty. With haste now, the Rebellion spreads throughout the land. The English, with their steel clad knights, are no longer invulnerable.
Men in great numbers flock to Williams' cause, and his band grows, allowing him to strike harder against the foe. He is quick with a sword but quicker with his wits still; and the English are no match for the men of these misty lands.
No army has ever stood up to the charge of heavy horse. The English army, confident in their victory, will meet the Scots on the field of battle. They do not, however, expect to meet an army captained by a man such as William Wallace. His destiny and Scotland's awaits at Stirling Bridge.
Historical Narrative
Hello and welcome to History vs Hollywood. This is the second part of a four-part series on the epic 1995 film Braveheart, directed, produced, and starring Mel Gibson. It tells the tale of William Wallace, the Hero of Scottish independence, who fought to free his country from the English at the end of the 13th century.
You may have noticed above that you can also now listen to the episode. Each week, the newsletter will be shared with a companion podcast episode that can be listened to here on substack, or anywhere you usually listen to podcasts. The podcast will cover the same topics as the newsletter, but will also have some added extras. In this particular episode I will be answering some questions from the listeners. This week, the questions were from . If you would like to hear those, you can catch them at the end of this weeks episode.
In this second part, we will explore the life of a young and wild William Wallace, his journey from choir boy to cold-blooded killer, and then his transition from outlaw to guerrilla leader. So, let's get into it.
Before I get started, I want to share my source for this series. The problem with William Wallace is knowing where the myth ends and the truth begins, as the details of his life are surprisingly tricky to piece together. There is no real consensus on when he was born or even precisely where, so this whole series would have been impossible without the excellent and well-researched William Wallace: Brave Heart by James Mackay. I am not affiliated with the author, but if you fancy picking up a copy, you can do so here.
Last time, we introduced the Wallaces into the story. As a reminder, it is the later thirteenth century, and Edward Longshanks, king of England, summoned all Scottish nobles to bend their knees at Upsettlington. This was all happening in the wake of the death of Alexander III, who died heirless after being murdered by his horse. Check out last week's episode. Sir Malcolm Wallace—Sir, because he was an anointed knight, not the down-and-out farmer that Braveheart portrays him as—ignored the summons from Longshanks and was, therefore, declared an enemy of England. Malcolm and his eldest son fled north into the wilder parts of Scotland to avoid immediate execution. This left young William alone with his mother and siblings.
William grew up in a place called Ellerslie during the late reign of Alexander III. He was raised in a time of peace and was educated in a fairly typical, religious manner, similar to many other children of the lower ranks of the nobility. He could certainly read and write, but he was presumably more interested in learning to fight. He likely spent ample time sparring with his older brother, who was, confusingly, also named Malcolm Wallace, using dirks and swords and perhaps even wielding his enormous claymore that he grew so famed for in later life. Now, a claymore is a sword that usually relies on its sheer weight to cleave through those unfortunate enough to face it. William, even as a youth, was an unusually large chap and could perhaps have used it with some agility. This is a skill he would use at great length in his short but very violent life. More on that in a moment.
By this time, Scotland was essentially under English occupation. Although most of the major castles were nominally handed over to King John, Edward still maintained control. Most of the nobility had decided not to rock the boat too much and accepted their circumstances. The local population, however, was far less pleased with this turn of events.
The Scots are and always have been, a proud people. They grew increasingly resentful of their feudal overlords kowtowing to the English and treating them like property. The occupying English forces were behaving, unsurprisingly, much like an occupying army. To say they were overbearing is an understatement. Due to this, sporadic flare-ups of violence erupted across the country occasionally, and one such incident involved Sir Malcolm Wallace, William’s father. Allegedly, in 1291, there was an encounter between Wallace Senior and a knight named Fenwick at a place called Loudon Hill. Due to Malcolm's outlaw status, he was fair game to be skewered by any passing knight. Being a Wallace, he went down swinging. It is said that Malcolm, during his last stand, was slashed across the back of his legs and then, even from a kneeling position, managed to kill several Englishmen before being overwhelmed and finished off by Fenwick. Naturally, the news eventually went to young William, who was left simmering with resentment. One day, he would return to Loudon Hill to seek his revenge, but that was still a few years away. Things were about to kick up a notch for Wallace.
William would make quite the entrance onto the historical scene with his first strike against the English. The year was 1291, not long after his father's death, and by this time, William was a grown man, full of charm and laughter and supposedly standing around six feet five or even seven inches tall. The news of his father's death had tempered his naturally joyful nature. However, he still exuded a magnetic charisma that masked a soul tormented by a deep-seated hatred for the English occupiers.
William was attending the church school in Dundee. Following Edward's influence on the Scottish succession, the castle of Dundee had been handed over to an English baron, who in turn entrusted it to a chap named Selby—a rather unpleasant character, by all accounts. Selby’s son, aged about twenty, behaved exactly as one might expect the son of such a man to behave. This particularly disagreeable specimen supposedly spotted Wallace on the streets of Dundee one day and decided he didn’t care much for the look of him. The story goes that William was wearing some flashy green clothing, which the junior Selby took offence to. He mocked William for his garb and then demanded that he hand over his dirk.
William’s response may have been a little extreme, but it’s worth remembering that he was simmering with resentment over his father’s slaying. The encounter went something like this:
William made to draw his knife and hand it over to the obnoxious whelp, as Selby Junior reached for it, Wallace lashed out and grabbed him by the collar. Before Selby had time to utter “What are you doing!” Wallace drove the blade into his chest up to the hilt, killing him instantly. Shocked at the rapid escalation in violence, Selby’s companions were slow to intervene, but Wallace was quick. Withdrawing his blade, he fell upon the stunned soldiers, slaying two more of them in quick succession. Shocked into action, the two survivors turned and fled. Wallace emerged from the red fog of his rage, looked around, and realized what he had done. In the pandemonium of panicking merchants and fishwives, Wallace slipped into the crowd and fled to his uncle's house.
When he arrived, he encountered the housekeeper and unloaded the details of what had just happened. The housekeeper didn’t miss a beat and calmly ushered him inside, where she dressed him in one of her gowns and set him to work with a distaff and spindle.
When the English arrived to search for Wallace, his disguise did the trick, and they left having not spotted him. Presumably, they were accustomed to six-foot-seven housemaids in Dundee. He remained hidden until nightfall before making a suitably dramatic escape. Disguised as a pilgrim, he made himself scarce and returned to Ayrshire and to safety. For the first time, William had embraced violence. It soon became his closest companion, and would serve as a steadfast guide on his journey to reclaim his land from the English.
In the background of William’s initial exploits, King John's reign was off to a poor start. Firstly, his rival, Robert the Bruce Senior, that notorious troublemaker and other claimant to the Scottish throne, had promptly handed his claim to the throne over to his much younger son, Robert the Bruce, a future King of Scotland. I am sure you can tell from that that things would not end well for King John. Robert the Bruce Junior then conveniently left for an extended holiday in Europe. This meant he avoided any attempts by Longshanks to make him pay homage. A shrewd move by the Bruces but an ominous sign for the Balliols. Clearly, their old enemies were still very much in the game. The Bruces’ time will come later in this series, but for now, let’s focus on the downfall of King John Balliol.
Poor old King John gets a pretty bad rap. He gets all the blame for his failed reign. To me, he seems to be a fairly well-intentioned but somewhat weak monarch who was dealt a very difficult hand. His aims were not out of the realm of possibility: He wanted to consolidate his rule, keep Scotland independent of England, and maintain peace within his realm. Nothing wrong with that, you might say. The problem is that he just didn’t really have the stones to put them into action and facedown Longshanks.
Longshanks was made of sterner stuff. He had made John King and never let him forget it. Even during the coronation, John was forced to swear his allegiance to Longshanks. The new Scottish King started out appearing as little more than a figurehead. As soon as he was crowned, Longshanks began interfering in Scottish legal cases and overruling John’s judgments. Whenever John protested, Edward applied further pressure and eventually forced him to declare that Edward had the right to judge any Scottish legal case. Things continued this way, slowly chipping away at the new King’s credibility. Whenever John disobeyed, Edward would call him names and label him a 'feudal delinquent' and bring him to heel. It’s all rather humiliating, really.
Things would come to a head in 1293 when Edward was called to France to answer to the French King. It was time for Longshanks to get a taste of his own medicine. In addition to his kingship of England, Edward was also Duke of Aquitaine and, as such, a vassal of the French crown. When a few English seamen caused some trouble along the French coast, Edward was duly summoned to France to answer for their crimes. Edward did not view this act of homage as implying that the French had any claim to the English throne. The irony, no doubt, wasn’t lost on anyone. Ultimately, Edward was forced to relinquish his claims to his French territory, but it wouldn’t be long before he was back.
Meanwhile, the Scots, feeling the weight of Longshanks’ oppressive rule and witnessing his trouble brewing with France, saw an opportunity. King John opened secret negotiations with the French, offering his support in countering the English. Before long, Edward, being Edward, John knew he would take action and declare war on France, and when that time came, the Scots would be there to support the French. John would openly rebel against Longshanks and invade England if Edward made a move against the French. In return, the French promised assistance to the Scots if the English attacked them.
Unfortunately for the Scots, when the time came, the French were a lot further away than the English were. Getting wind of these secret dealings with the French, Longshanks moved with his customary speed and brutality. He summoned his army to Newcastle, dispatched his fleet up the coast, and invaded Scotland. John, now in a blind panic, responded by trying to raise his own forces and get ready to defend his realm. It was, however, too little, too late. War had begun, and the Scots were wholly unprepared.
Shortly after hostilities commenced, the English army attacked Berwick, Scotland’s thriving trade hub. Due to its inadequate defences, the English swiftly breached the stockade, with Edward reportedly leading the cavalry himself. A rumour had spread about some over-border raids committed in England by the Scots that had led to a massacre of the locals. With that fresh in their mind, once inside the city, the English put Berwick to the sword. For three days, chaos reigned as English soldiers looted, raped, burned, and committed countless atrocities. It is estimated that between 17,000 and 20,000 people perished in the assault. This horrific event would remain firmly lodged in the Scottish collective consciousness. The English gave no quarter and so should expect none in return.
A few days after the sacking of Berwick, the English army set out once more into the wilds of Scotland. It wasn’t long before they encountered the main Scottish force, and the battle was joined. The Scots, seemingly overzealous, perhaps due to the horrific news coming out of Berwick, charged headlong at the English lines. Longshanks' battle-hardened veterans absorbed the charge, rallied, and then decimated the Scottish troops. The Scottish forces were utterly routed. With this defeat, Scottish resistance crumbled.
King John swiftly recognised the error of his ways and wrote to Edward, confessing his mistake in supporting the French and acknowledging Edward as his liege lord. He then formally surrendered his kingdom to Longshanks. In July of that year, John faced a final humiliation: he was forced to approach Edward dressed in the white clothing of a penitent, carrying a white wand for reasons unknown, perhaps because it added to the embarrassment. Edward then tore away John's formal seal of kingship, earning him the enduring nickname ‘Toom Tabard’—meaning ‘empty coat.’
Poor old King John then spent the next three years of his life in the Tower of London before being released into Exile at the Pope’s request. He would eventually return to Scotland and his family estates to fade into irrelevance, while his nemesis, the Bruces, took up the banner of Scottish independence.
Edward had no intention of installing another figurehead in Scotland, given the trouble he had gone through to remove the first one. He had himself symbolically crowned on the Stone of Destiny before having it removed and sent to Westminster Abbey, where it remains beneath the coronation chair to this day. It would be centuries before another Scottish king would sit upon the Stone of Destiny when James VI of Scotland succeeded to the English throne in 1603.
With winter approaching, the English army made its way home. Scotland had been brought to heel. Edward Longshanks, the "Hammer of the Scots," returned south with his army, believing the job was well done. However, William Wallace, the "Hammer of the English," had other plans.
I’d very much like to be able to buy my own Stone of Destiny one day so that I can sit upon it when I am officially anointed King Of Bad Jokes Told To Gain More Subscribers. They are, however, fairly expensive. If you would like to help me achieve this lofty goal, perhaps you would consider upgrading your subscription. You can do so below.
Or perhaps you’re not ready to commit to the subscription yet. In that case, you can support my work by buying me a coffee.
After he escaped from Dundee, William attempted to return to anonymity. This wasn’t to be, however. It all kicked off again on a lovely Spring day when Wallace was out fishing. Supposedly, William was whiling away the day trout fishing and doing rather well at it. By the afternoon, he had a substantial catch—so substantial, in fact, that it caught the eye of a passing squad of English soldiers. They rode down to the riverside and demanded that he hand over his catch. Wallace politely offered them half, believing it to be a fair exchange in return for being left in peace. The English saw it differently and dismounted to take the lot.
Wallace, by now, was quick to anger with the English, and his temper flared. A shouting match soon erupted, and before long, an English soldier drew his blade and threatened Wallace. This was a mistake. Wallace turned his fishing rod on the man and struck him so hard that he knocked the soldier off his feet. Wallace picked up the Soldier’s sword and set about dispatching the offender and his companions. In another whirlwind of violence, Wallace quickly dealt with three of the soldiers. Two, however, managed to escape.
The tale goes that when the fleeing soldiers reported to their commander and explained what had happened, he laughed at them, dismissed their losses and remarked that their three dead comrades weren’t worth avenging if one man had killed them. Sounds like a nice chap.
This story may well be just that—a story—since most of these tales about Wallace come from a fellow named Blind Harry, who wrote them quite sometime later. Nevertheless, they certainly are entertaining, so let’s agree to accept them as described. There are plenty more where that came from, too. Due to this incident and several others like it, William Wallace became a known figure and was declared an outlaw. Wallace escaped again and melted away into the wilds of Scotland.
Over the next couple of years, Wallace prowled the Scottish countryside like a vengeful spectre, killing any Englishmen he encountered. His actions seem to place him somewhere between a wandering serial killer and a vigilante. It would take time before Wallace channelled his panache for violence towards a clear political cause. But it wasn’t all murder. During this period, he supposedly also lived as a sort of rakish outlaw, robbing the rich to aid the poor and sneaking into towns for secret trysts with local women before slipping away in the night, just ahead of the pursuing English soldiers. I imagine he was having a rather good time living as a wildman.
Missing no opportunity to burnish his reputation, he visited towns where his face was unfamiliar and ensured it would not be forgotten. On one such occasion, Wallace came across an enormous English soldier charging fourpence for the chance to hit him as hard as you could with a pole he carried. I say bring back that sort of public entertainment. Sounds like a fun day out! Wallace took up the challenge and proceeded to swiftly beat the soldier to death in front of the crowd. When the guards arrived to apprehend him, he turned on them, killing five before making his escape. Classic Wallace.
By now, William was a well-known figure in the local scene. The giant who made his business to kill any Englishman that he came across. At this point, though, he was no national hero or rally point for the frustrations of his countrymen, more a rather entertaining tale to tell in the pub. That would soon change, however.
Wallace’s luck soon ran out, and this particular mistake would solidify the mythology surrounding him, ultimately forging his legend. It all happened when he was once again involved in a fish-related fracas. One day, when he was on one of his trips into town, Wallace came across an English soldier demanding the fish carried by a local servant. Wallace stepped in and suggested that the soldier leave the chap alone. As always seemed to happen, the soldier lunged at Wallace with his staff. Again, this was a mistake. Wallace sidestepped the attack and drove his knife into the soldier’s chest. Unlike previous occasions, however, this time, Wallace would not get away. He had not adequately prepared an escape route, and soldiers quickly surrounded, captured him, and threw him into jail.
Held in awful conditions, Wallace soon fell gravely ill and eventually slipped into a coma whilst in custody. Finding him seemingly dead, the English discarded his body in a nearby dung heap. An ignoble end for our hero. Rumours of Wallace’s death spread far and wide and eventually reached the ears of a nurse of William’s from his boyhood. She came and begged for his body from the English, which she was begrudgingly granted, and took him home to give him a proper burial. To her astonishment, she discovered he was still very much alive, hooray! She and her daughter nursed him back to health—quite literally. Supposedly, the nurse’s daughter, who had a young child, even breastfed the unconscious Wallace to help him recover. You can understand why they perhaps left that scene out of Braveheart. Can’t imagine any fancies watching Mel Gibson being breastfed.
During this ordeal, fame reached out and touched Wallace. The same man who had predicted that Alexander III would be killed by his horse (all of that and more in last week’s episode—check it out), heard rumours of Wallaces exploits, and his miraculous recovery, and so declared that Wallace was destined to be the saviour of Scotland. As this man, known to posterity as Thomas the Rhymer, was a bona fide prophet of his age, it sent Wallace’s PR numbers soaring.
Wallace eventually made a full recovery, and with this miraculous turn of events, combined with the confidence fueled by his growing legend, he became convinced of his own invincibility. He set out from the care of his old nurse with a renewed drive and focus. His days as a bandit and outlaw were behind him; Wallace knew that small-scale attacks were no longer enough. Determined to meet his destiny, he set his sights on a greater goal: the English would have to be driven out of Scotland.
With such lofty ambitions, Wallace knew he could no longer do this alone, and he went about gathering men and resources. Resources were abundant, as the countryside teemed with English soldiers. All Wallace had to do was kill them and take their stuff, something he excelled at. In this way, he began amassing silver, weaponry, and horses. With tales of his exploits already spread far and wide, men came to him in increasing numbers, hoping to share in the glory. It began with his closest kin but soon expanded to include many others. Picts, Anglo-Saxons, Danes, Irish, and Cymrics all rushed to fight alongside Wallace.
He ended up with cousins, nephews, uncles and school friends flocking to his banner. By now, he was joined by Tom Halliday, a friend from his schooling days, Sir John Graham, who would soon be his second in command. He was soon joined by a fellow called Stephen of Ireland. His cause had finally gone international. All these fateful names would etch themselves into history alongside Wallace and, then, before long, would join him on the memorial plaques. Although their cause was just the tale of William Wallace, it does not end pleasantly. But more on that in a later episode.
Wallace's guerrilla band was now truly coming into its own, so he decided it was time to get a little more ambitious.
It had been many years now since his father’s death, but Wallace had not forgotten. With his merry band, he returned to Loudon Hill, the site where his father had been cut down. Fenwick, his father’s killer, was expected to pass through the area in the near future, supposedly delivering vital supplies, just the sort that Wallace’s fledgling rebellion needed. William decided he would kill two birds with one stone: Avenge his father and get all the booty he needed to take his gang to the next level.
When the English force arrived, they outnumbered Wallace’s men at least three to one, but Wallace had righteous anger and surprise on his side. The fight may have gone something like this:
As the English marched into the kill zone, Wallace sprung his trap. At his signal, his men released boulders that crashed down into the valley and blacked the English escape route. Before the English knew what was about to hit them, Wallace leapt from his hiding place and drove a spear into the first horseman’s mount. The spear shattered under the force of the blow, and the horseman fell. Wallace drew his enormous blade and finished the rider. The Scots roared a battle cry and charged into the English, thrusting spears into the soft underbellies of the armoured horses and dragging their riders down to be finished with dagger and axe. In the chaos, Fenwick spotted Wallace, the Scotsman towered above his men. He aimed his lance and charged.
Wallace faced the charge, but at the last moment, he stepped aside and swung his enormous blade, splitting Fenwick’s saddle in two. The knight crashed to the ground and, before he could rise, had his skull split by one of Wallace's comrades. Seeing their commander killed, the English lost heart and tried to surrender. Wallace was in no mood for mercy, and they slew the English to a man. The Hammer of the English had struck his first major blow against the invaders of his homeland.
This ambush was the making of Wallace’s band. His small force returned from this battle laden with spoils, horses and confidence that the English heavy cavalry could be defeated under the right circumstances. Armed with this newfound knowledge, Wallace prepared to unleash his fury against the English. But the next chapter of his rebellion... that’s a story for another time.
That’s all for this week, folks. Please join us again next week as we continue the tale of William Wallace. In the next episode, we’ll explore how Wallace was transformed from a guerrilla fighter into the commander of Scotland’s armies and the highwater mark of his career as a Rebel, Stirling Bridge. If that sounds like something you’d enjoy, please subscribe, like the show, and share it with anyone who might be interested. Thanks again, and I’ll see you next time for another instalment of History vs. Hollywood.
You may have noticed that I recently turned on a paid subscription, so let me explain things a little. I hope to always be able to keep History vs Hollywood advert free and subscriber driven, so your support would be immeasurably helpful. The money would go towards paying the artists who contribute to our articles and buying research materials that make this all possible. I have no intention of ever pay-walling the episodes, and the weekly articles will be available to everyone, whether you are a paid subscriber or not. The support is totally voluntary on your behalf. One day, when I have more time, I will go about creating some perks for my paid subscribers, bonus episodes, and so on, but honestly, for now, I simply don’t have the time or resources. So, thank you again for your continued support. It means the world to me, and if you fancy supporting me with a paid subscription, you can do so below.
As always, if you have enjoyed this, have any comments, requests for clarification or would just like to chat about this newsletter or the subject of this series, please let me know in the comments below. If you have enjoyed this, give it a share, follow me so you get notified when the next chapter is released, and hit the like button.
Share this post