Welcome to Yorkshire Battles, a history podcast that transforms classic public domain books into immersive historical audiobooks. Each episode brings the greatest battles in Yorkshire back to life. Yorkshire has witnessed some of the most important events in British history. Our mission is to preserve these remarkable stories and present them in a way that is engaging, authentic, and accessible for modern audiences. Yorkshire Battles offers a unique journey into the past. Today's episode, The Battle of the Standard by William Granger, 1st published in 1854. About 3 miles from Northallerton on the highway leading to Darlington, and near 200 yards from the road on the right hand, on a gently elevated piece of ground, stands a small, rather neat-looking farmhouse, sheltered by a belt of trees partly around it. This is Standard Hill, a name the spot appears to have borne for more than 700 years, marking the place where stood the consecrated banner of the English army during one of the most bloody battles recorded in the history of our island. [gentle music] No place could be better adapted for the encounter of large armies than this. The whole district, then for miles around, was one widespread, open, level common, the country being nearly flat from the banks of the Tees to Northallerton, and many miles to the southward. Little advantage could be gained over an enemy by selection of ground, as it afforded no strong posts or easily defended positions. From this spot, on a clear day, may be seen the level plain of Cleveland, with the hills to the eastward, Eston Nab, a well-known sea mark, the beautiful cone of Roseberry Topping, the dark, wooded, shaggy sides of Arncliffe above the Priory of Mount Grace, the town of Northallerton, and many other interesting objects. To the westward, the view is equally extensive, bounded by the hills of Wensleydale, Swaledale, and Teesdale. Such is the situation of the ground on which August 22nd, 1138, was fought the Battle of the Standard. Where the perjury and usurpation of King Stephen, the vindication of the right of the Empress Matilda to the English crown, the wanton and reckless cruelty of David, King of Scotland, who invaded England in support of her right, and finally, the indignation of the great northern barons at seeing the country wasted in such a barbarous manner that they met him here and utterly routed his army. King Henry, having lost his son and heir, William, who perished by shipwreck, unregretted by the English, on the rock of Cat Rise, November 25th, 1120, resolved, in order to secure the succession in his own family, to make the states of England and Normandy swear allegiance to his daughter Maud, or Matilda. This was accordingly done, and the foremost to take the oath was Stephen, Count of Blois, nephew of the king. No sooner was King Henry dead than Stephen, regardless of his oath, hastened to London, where by his popular qualities and insinuating arts, he so far prevailed with the citizens, clergy, and above all, with the warlike barons, who were indignant at the thought of having a she-king, as they styled Matilda, to rule over them, that her claims were set aside, and Stephen, apparently with the consent of both English and Normans, placed on the throne. The cause of Matilda was, however, espoused by her natural brother, Robert, Earl of Gloucester, and her uncle, David, King of Scotland. And it was in support of her claim that the latter, in the year 1138, invaded the northern provinces of England with a vast miscellaneous army. Drawn from all parts of his kingdom, which then included Northumberland and Cumberland. This army, composed of Normans, Germans, Saxons, Cumbrian, Britons, and Northumbrians, the inhabitants of Tiviotdale and Lothian, the Picts, commonly called the men of Galloway, and the ancient Scots or Gael men, differing in race, in language, and modes of warfare, but all equally ferocious and prompt to deeds of rapine and massacre. The progress of this savage army across the country was marked by the most horrible cruelty and devastation. Houses and churches were plundered and burnt, the greatest part of the unarmed inhabitants massacred, and others, with helpless women and children, driven before the invaders like a flock of sheep. Had they executed their design according to the beginning thus, Matilda's kingdom would have been little better than a desert. Their conduct so incensed the powerful Norman barons that they resolved unanimously to resist the invasion. And even the Saxon English were so exasperated against the Scots that they forgot their hatred of the Normans in the pleasing hope of taking vengeance upon such cruel enemies. Thurston, Archbishop of York, who was then lieutenant governor of the North, united the country against the invaders. The chief of the barons who joined him were William le Gros, afterwards Earl of Yorkshire, Walter de Gaunt, who led a body of Normans and Flemings, Robert de Brus and his brother Adam, Roger de Mowbray, then but a youth, sent the whole strength of his wide domains into the field, Walter Espec, a warrior of gigantic size and prowess, Gilbert and William de Lacy, William de Percy, and many others. This army advanced as far as Thirsk Castle, then a stronghold of the Mowbrays, under the command of the archbishop, when he resigned his authority to Ralph, Bishop of the Orkneys, William le Gros, and Walter Espec. In order to inspire the soldiers with more enthusiasm and give to the contest the appearance of a holy war, they carried a consecrated banner along with them, a long pole, like the mast of a ship, borne erect on 4 wheels, on the top of which was a pyx containing a consecrated host and a cross. Around it were hung the banners of the northern saints, Saint Peter of York, Saint John of Beverly, and Saint Wilfrid of Ripon. It was guarded by a chosen band of knights who had sworn rather to die than yield it into the hands of the enemy. This was a fine stroke of policy, as it was not merely a sacred emblem inspiring confidence, but an excellent rallying point in case of confusion. The more to increase the ardor of the army, the bishop made an oration, and at the end pronounced absolution for the sins of all who should fall in the coming contest. Some say that David had ravaged the country as far as York and was actually besieging that city when, hearing of the mustering of the barons, he raised the siege and retired northward. Such was now the spirit of the English forces that nothing, but a similar spirit of unanimity could have secured success to the Scots. But among so many different races, such a feeling could not have been expected, so that on the evening before the battle, their council was a scene of contention about the honour of leading the van. David had intended that the battle should be commenced by the men-at-arms and archers, in whom his chief strength consisted of. But the men of Galloway, who fought with long, slender spears and who had displayed great bravery during the campaign, insisted upon taking the post of honour. "And whence this confidence of these mailed men?" cried Malise, Earl of Strathearn, a Celtic chief who felt jealous of the honour of his people. "I myself wear no mail, and yet I will advance farther tomorrow than those who are sheathed in steel." This boast incensed the wearers of armour, and Alan de Percy, a bastard brother of the English baron of the name, but a follower of David, told Malise that he had said more than he dared to make good. The king was obliged to silence the contention and yield the van to the Glaswegians. On the morning of the 22nd of August, both armies prepared for battle. The English drawn up in a compact body, the spearmen and archers in front, and the heavy-armed chivalry in the rear, the sacred banner towering brig above them all. [instrumental music plays] The Scots were formed in 4 lines, the Glaswegians in front, who began the battle, wildly rushing on their opponents and yelling their war cry, "Albanach, Albanach," and throwing themselves like a tempest upon the English spearmen for a moment staggered them. And but for a moment, it was while thus held at bay that the matchless archery of the native English was brought to bear, and with tremendous effect upon an armed enemy. It was glorious to see these stinging flies issue in swarm from the quivers of the men of the south and darken the air like a cloud of dust. Never did armorers temper steel on stithy that made sure fence against an English arrow, be it descending now the fatal hail shower. The storm of England's wrath, swift, which no mail coat can brook. Brave English hearts, how chose they shoot together? As one eye had aimed 5,000 shafts, as if one hand had loosed 5,000 bowstrings. Before these discharges of barbed death, the naked Glaswegians had but the alternative of flight or destruction, and were on the point of turning, when the Scottish men-at-arms, commanded by Prince Henry, coming to their rescue, dashed with such impetuosity upon the English ranks that they were torn asunder like a spider's web, and victory appeared to smile upon the King of Scotland. But the heavy-mailed chivalry of the southern was not so easily beaten from the field. [dramatic music plays] The conflict was now lance to lance and horse to horse. A rumour had spread through the Scottish army that the king was slain. It began to waver. In vain he threw off his helmet and hastened from rank to rank to reassure them that he was yet alive. A panic had seized his tumultuary forces, and it was impossible to rally them. They fled and were ruthlessly slaughtered by the pursuers. In vain the king and his brave son, Henry, with a few faithful nobles, maintained the combat. The battle was completely lost, and they were obliged to re
