The Cradle and the Crown - Birth Legends of Royals

   The mystery over the actual births of kings and queens is intimately associated with the mystery and legends of their ancestry, which in many cases had deep roops in paganism.  Even in Christian times recourse to outlandish claims of ancestry were not entirely extinguished.  Hence, the family of King Edward I in the 13th century proudly boasted that their frequent violent rages existed because they were descendants of a daughter of Satan.

   One especially prevalent legend Europe-wide is the story that the coming of a powerful ruler is marked by some significant celestial event.  This occurrence lingered into modern times, as Catherine Crowe in her supernatural compendium The Night Side of Nature (1848) reports:

On the 16 August 1769, Frederick II of Prussia is said to have dreamed that a star fell from heaven and occasioned such an extraordinary glare that he could with great difficulty find his way through it. He mentioned the dream to his attendants, and it was afterwards observed that it was on that day that Napoleon was born.

  Portents surrounding the arrival of a powerful prince were also evident in Britain. Shakespeare even commented on the legends which marked the birth of the powerful Welsh ruler Owen Glendwr, who was born in 1359. Stories circulated that on the eveing he was born the horses of Griffith Vychan, his father, were found standing in their stables up to their fetlocks in blood.  In a Scottish context, the coming of the child who who grown up to be James IV was also marked by supernatural signs.  Born in March 1472, there was an ausicious and prominent comet seen over Scotland in the previous months, foretelling his glory.  The 16th century historian John Lesley wrote:

James, eldeft fone to King James the third, wes borne the day of March 1472, quha eftiruart wes callit James the fourt, and wes ane jufte and guide prince. And comette mervellus appeirit in the fouthe, the xvij day of Januer till the xviij day of Februar, caftand gret beames of licht touart the fouth, and wes placet betuix the pole and the pleyaidis callit the fevin ftarnis, quhilk the aftrologis did afferme to be ane figne of mony mervellus changes in the warld.

   One can understand why, in retrospect, origin myths are attached to the stars among rulers.  Rather more intriguing, possibly, are those tales given to kings who disappointed in their promise or destinies.  Such a one was King James VI (afterwards I of England), who did not shine under either numeral. Young James's beginning was more inauspicious than his five royal namesakes before him.  There was doubt expressed about his paternity, and his mother pertinently commented to the suspicious Lord Darnley, soon after his son's birth in June 1566: 

My Lord, here I protest to God, and as I shall answer to Him at the great day of Judgement, this is your sone and no other man’s sone, and I am desirous that all here, both ladies and others, bear witness, for he is so much your sone that I fear it will be the worse for him.

   At the christening of the destined king, the reformer John Knox saw an idiot begging at the gates of Stirling Castle, which might have been taken as a bad omen.  The prince was born with caul over his face, contrarily said to be a mark of good luck and a guarantor that the person would never die by drowning.  There was even more mystery.  A long time later an infant was uncovered secreted within the walls of Edinburgh Castle, wrapped in a gold cloth.  Rumours states that this was possibly the true James VI and the boy who came to manhood and the throne was actually a child of Lady Reres or the Earl of Mar.
 

  Sometimes coincidence conspired to make the birth of an heir even more auspicious.  This was the case in the first born son of King Alexander III.  The Norse were still a major threat to the realm, especially in the Western Isles. However there was a double celebration celebrated in Scotland , as told by the chronicler John of Fordun:

Whence in all the bounds of Scotland redoubled praise resounded to God; because in the same day by one messenger came news of the death of the King of Norway who had plagued the king and kingdom, and by another the king was told of his son's birth.

      King Haakon IV was roundly defeated in the Battle of Large in October 1263, effectively ending four centuries plus of Scandinavian threat to the northern part of Britain.

   Other Scottish royal legends associated with birth are rather more insubstantial, but still intriguing.  King Robert II was born by caeserian in 1316 after his mother Princess Marjorie was thrown by a horse, the infant being cut from the dead body of his mother.  The trauma of the birth crippled him for life, and in earlier centuries such disfigurement would have ruled him out of his rightful leadership.  King James II (b. 1430) was renowned for his ferocious temper and evidence of his tempestuous nature was plain to see - a violent red birthmark covering his cheeck.  He was called 'James of the Fiery Face,' and was an accomplished ruler (and featured in Francois Villon's Ballade des Seigneurs de Tempis Jadis).

   King Robert III was born (around 1340) with the wrong name.  When it was clear he would inherit the kingdom he was obligied to change his given name, John, to Robert.  John was an unlucky name.  In Scotland it was borne by Robert Bruce's unfortunate predecessor, King John Balliol.  The historian John Lesley again comments:  'The nobilitie had an ill opinions of the name Jhone, because the kings of France and Jngland of that name war tane in the weiris, quhair for tha changet the name Jhon in Robert, eftir the name of his father. ' John of England had surrended his crown to the pope, while John of France captured by the English at Poitiers.

   There is a strange, unsubstantial tale concerning the birth of Malcom III (around 1031), which credits his existance to a dalliance between his father, King Duncan, and a miller's daughter near Forteviot in Perthshire.  This vestige of tradition either links back to customs of Celtic fosterage whereby high-born boys were placed in the care and raised by commoners, or otherwise it is a remnant tradition which gave supernatural parentage to some kings.  This latter theme is evident in both Celtic and Norse legends and features in stories about the origins of rulers such as King Harald the Fair and King Cormac mac Airt.

   Malcolm III's wife was the redoubtable Queen Margaret and her fame cascaded down her own lineage and throughout Scotland. An items of hers was peculiarly guarded by her descendants, though we don't know the full story behind it. The chemise sark of Margaret (who was regarded as a saint) was carefully cherished. There is notice in the Exchequer Rolls of Scotland which details the expenses of bringing from Dunfermline to Stirling Castle via Inverkeithing this item, as a talisman to Mary of Gueldres, queen of James II, protecting her from any natal danger while she was giving birth to the future James III. The sark was again summoned for at the birth of James V in the early 16th century.  What became of it afterwards is not known.