The Bovine Assault Force
Many pages have been filled with the heroic and cunning deeds of Sir James “the Black” Douglas, right-hand man of Robert the Bruce in the 14th century.
Ranked among the three greatest knights of Europe in his time, Douglas regularly routed enemy forces many times the strength of his own, and the mere mention of his name was enough to quell resistance in all but the stoutest of hearts. He was famed for doing whatever it took, however daring or dark the deed, to bring victory to his king’s cause.
On one occasion, that meant doing his best impression of a cow.
Roxburgh Castle was once one of the mightiest strongholds in Scotland, holding key strategic ground near the border with England and with defences to rival Edinburgh or Stirling. In February 1314 it lay in English hands, and this could not stand.
Bruce himself was experiencing one of the bouts of illness that vexed him throughout his life and his lieutenants, including Douglas, were in fierce competition with each other to prove their mettle to their beleaguered king.
Douglas set off for Roxburgh with 60 men determined to impress. With so few soldiers a headlong assault was out of the question. Douglas’s devilishly clever mind set to plotting, yet every scheme was foiled by the sheer strength of the defences and the deadly stretch of open ground surrounding the fortified castle.
In those stretches, however, he noticed that several herds of black cattle were grazing close to the walls. One can imagine the grin that graced his face
“That cow” meant doing an impression of a
when he realised that it was time to play dress-up.
The idea of big, rough men blending in with cattle isn’t quite as preposterous as it seems on the face of it. The black cattle of medieval Scotland were tiny compared to those roaming modern fields.
Under the cover of darkness and adorned with black cloaks, a group of armed men could, with no small portion of luck, crawl on all fours to infiltrate the herd and reach the walls unnoticed. With a plan worthy of Looney Tunes in place, the Scots waited for night to take hold, donned their cloaks, dropped down on all fours, and crawled towards destiny.
Probably to everyone’s surprise, it went off without a hitch. Historical poet John Barbour even wrote that a guard spotted the “cows” and joked that the farmer would regret not keeping them secure if Douglas made off with them by morning.
The Scots reached the gatehouse, raised their ladders, and sprung over. The gates were flung open and the rest of Douglas’s men, still mooing about beyond the walls, stormed in. The castle’s Gascon governor fell back to the donjon, or fortified tower, and hurled insults at the Scots, but the cascade of curses was cut short when an arrow pierced his cheeks leaving him clenching its shaft between broken teeth.
The castle was slighted and Douglas returned triumphant to his king to prepare for battle at a little place called Bannockburn, no doubt telling tales of the bovine assault on Roxburgh to disbelieving listeners along the way.