This unassuming field where sheep are now pastured was once the epicenter of tensions between England and Scotland between the 14th and 17th centuries CE. Standing at the entrance to the valley that was a main crossing point between the two countries during the period, the glen of Liddesdale itself was fiercely guarded and a site of continual turmoil. Tourneyholm sat at the entrance. Bounded by the River Liddel and Kershopeburn, “holm” means “island” but in this sense better relates to the practice of “holmgang,” a western Norse term for the practice of regulated (i.e. rules-based) dueling. Contrary to popular belief, such rules usually aimed to prevent killing, and often ended the duel at first blood. Such duels were traditionally held on islands, at a crossroads, or at other boundary places, making Tourneyholm’s field a natural choice.

A placard in nearby Hermitage Castle mentions Liddesdale in the context of an odd question:

“The Mouth of Hell?”

George MacDonald Fraser wrote of the ‘Elliots, who dwelt in Liddesdale, and if there be a Hell, and it hath a mouth, then it gapes at the foot of that dark and terrible glen, and those within are devils incarnate.’

Is it bad that I feel some pride in my notorious ancestors reading that? Ha!

And from the sign beside the field:

Today these waters, the River Liddel and the smaller Kershopeburn, form a peaceful boundary between England and Scotland. But four centuries ago these fields at Kershopefoot would have echoed to the sound of fighting, with disputes often ending in murder.

Just across was a small monument known variously as the Tourney Stone, the Truce Stone, or Laird Jock’s Stone. It is said it was erected to mark the spot where the reiver, Wee Jock Elliot fought and injured the Scottish Warden, Lord Bothwell. The field itself was called the Tourneyholm, a place of tournament where arguments were settled by single combat. Local Wardens met here on days of truce to sort out disputes and exchange prisoners. The English Warden and his entourage would send a rider through the water to ask for peace until the following sunrise. The Scots then sent a horseman back and both Wardens held up their hands in token of good faith. The English then advanced into Scotland.

When King James VI of Scotland became King James I of England and subjugated the Borders and its clans in the 17th c., it no longer served its purpose and fell into disuse.

It is now part of the Reiver Trail, a historic heritage route throughout the Scottish Borders.

The field is peaceful today. Here, an old railroad bed runs the length of the field on the right and the River Liddel borders it on the left.

The Liddel water, and Kershopeburn feeding from the right. In the distance, Tourneyholm can be seen over the hedge. It’s not difficult to imagine riders crossing these waters signalling truce before troops of men in mail and steel bonnets, sitting on their hardy little horses gathered around their respective clansmen to rally combatants in a duel. Or to see negotiations and prisoner exchanges take place. Or perhaps other spectacles of a tournament, like a horse race or sport played in happier times.

It’s easy to focus on the drama of dueling and speak salacious words like “murder” and forget that a place of truce, lawful single combat, and prisoner exchange was intended as a means to prevent escalating conflict and all-out war in an already volatile environment. The little field at the meeting of the waters was an island of order in a sea of chaos. That it existed at all is remarkable. Today, all is quiet, and most of the enmities of the past have been long forgotten. But the humble place and the purpose it tried to serve should always be remembered.