You’ve probably heard of Robert the Bruce. He’s the legendary hero of Bannockburn, the king who watched a spider and never gave up, the man who basically carved modern Scotland out of thin air and English steel. But his son? David II of Scotland usually gets the short end of the stick. People tend to remember him as the kid who lost it all, the prisoner who loved English life too much, and the guy who couldn't have a child to save his life.
It's kinda unfair.
Honestly, being the son of a legend is a nightmare. Imagine following up the most successful reign in your country's history while inheriting a kingdom that was essentially a giant target for the English. David was crowned at five. By ten, he was a refugee in France. By twenty-two, he was a prisoner of war with an arrow sticking out of his face.
The guy didn't have it easy.
The Kid King and the Mess He Inherited
When Robert the Bruce died in 1329, he left a massive vacuum. David was just a toddler. This was the first time a Scottish king was actually anointed with holy oil—a big deal for legitimacy—but oil doesn't win wars.
The "Disinherited," a group of Scottish nobles who had sided with the English and lost their lands under Robert I, saw an opening. They backed Edward Balliol, the son of the king Robert had ousted. With English support, they smashed the Scottish regency at Dupplin Moor in 1332.
David and his young English bride, Joan (who was actually Edward III's sister—talk about awkward family dinners), had to run. They spent seven years at Château Gaillard in France. While David was learning how to be a French knight and enjoying the wine, Scotland was being torn apart by a brutal guerrilla war led by guys like Andrew Murray and Robert the Steward.
He finally came home in 1341. He was seventeen, full of energy, and ready to show everyone he was his father's son.
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Spoilers: it didn't go great.
What Really Happened at Neville’s Cross
If you want to know why David II gets such a bad reputation, look no further than October 17, 1346.
King Philip VI of France was in a bind. Edward III was tearing through France, and Philip called in his favor from the Scots. The Auld Alliance meant David had to invade northern England to distract the English. He thought it would be a cakewalk. He figured all the English soldiers were in France.
He was wrong.
The Scots met a surprisingly large English force at Neville’s Cross, just outside Durham. The terrain was a nightmare—ditches, hedges, and walls broke up the Scottish formations. The English longbowmen did what they do best: they rained hell.
David was hit in the face by two arrows. One supposedly stayed lodged in his head for years. He was captured by an English squire named John de Coupland. Rumor has it David knocked out two of Coupland's teeth while being hauled away.
He was a prisoner for the next eleven years.
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The "Comfortable" Captivity and the Big Betrayal
Here is where the history gets murky and where most people start calling David a traitor. During his decade in England, he wasn't kept in a dungeon. He lived in the Tower of London and Windsor Castle. He went hunting. He attended jousts. He and Edward III actually became somewhat close friends.
They were brothers-in-law, after all.
By the time he was released in 1357 under the Treaty of Berwick, the price of his freedom was 100,000 merks. That was an insane amount of money. Scotland was broke. The Black Death had just wiped out a third of the population, and now they had to pay a king's ransom.
When the payments dried up, David proposed something radical. He suggested that if he died without an heir, a son of Edward III should inherit the Scottish throne.
The Scottish Parliament famously told him where to shove that idea.
But was he really trying to sell out Scotland? Some historians, like Michael Penman, argue it was a brilliant bluff. David knew the Scots would never accept an English king. By making the offer, he bought himself time, stopped the English from invading, and kept the ransom collectors off his back.
He was playing a high-stakes game of political poker.
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The Mystery of the Missing Heir
David’s personal life was a total mess. He was married to Joan for decades, but they had no kids. After she died, he married his mistress, Margaret Drummond.
He was obsessed with having a son. Why? Because his heir was his nephew, Robert the Steward. David hated him. Truly, deeply loathed the man. He blamed Robert for abandoning him at Neville’s Cross and for being a mediocre regent while David was in prison.
He even tried to divorce Margaret when she didn't get pregnant, claiming she was "barren." It was a public, ugly legal battle that went all the way to the Pope.
Why David II Still Matters
Most people think Scotland just stagnated under David. Actually, the opposite is true. While he was arguing with his nobles and dodging ransom payments, he was also building a modern state.
- He boosted trade: David encouraged towns (burghs) to grow and made sure the crown got its cut of the wool trade.
- He strengthened the law: He spent more time traveling the country and sitting in court than almost any other medieval king.
- He rebuilt Edinburgh Castle: He turned it into a formidable royal residence, including the massive David’s Tower (which was destroyed centuries later).
He died suddenly in 1371 at the age of 46. He was at the height of his power, finally putting the Steward in his place and planning a third marriage to another mistress, Agnes Dunbar.
He left Scotland richer and more organized than he found it. Sure, he wasn't the warrior his father was. But he survived. He kept the kingdom together during its darkest hour, even from a prison cell.
Your Next Steps in History
If you want to dive deeper into this era, don't just stick to the basic textbooks.
- Check out Michael Penman's biography: It’s basically the gold standard for David II and flips the "weak king" narrative on its head.
- Visit Edinburgh Castle: You can see the foundations of where David's Tower once stood—it's a physical reminder of his attempt to leave a mark.
- Read the Declaration of Arbroath: Compare its ideals with David's 1363 proposal to the English. It helps you see the tension he was dealing with between political reality and national pride.
David II wasn't a hero in the way we usually think of them. He was a survivor. Sometimes, in the 14th century, that was enough.