You run across all sorts of things, surfing the web. Tonight, for no particular reason, I’ll share with you the story of Margaret, the Maid of Norway, a girl who lived only seven years and did nothing at all remarkable, but is nevertheless renowned in the folklore of two countries.

I realize there’s no reason you should be interested in her story, so I’ll attempt to lure you in by notng that Margaret’s story is the backstory to the movie Braveheart.

You’re aware, aren’t you, that, fine as it is as a rousing piece of manly cinema, Braveheart is, from a historical point of view, a load of haggis? The costumes are wrong. The chronology’s mixed up. The battles are inaccurate. And the politics are skewed.

At the beginning of the film, you’ll recall, William Wallace’s father (his brother too? I forget) rides off to a meeting with King Edward I of England, where all the Scots in attendance are treacherously hanged. Such an incident may have happened at an earlier time (it can’t be proven one way or the other), but it didn’t happen to Wallace’s father, and that wasn’t what started the conflict between Edward and the Scots.

What actually happened was that there was a meeting to resolve a dynastic conflict. The Scots—on their own initiative, mind you—had invited Edward to come and mediate between two rival claimants to the throne, the House of Balliol and the House of Bruce. Edward (no fool, he) refused to start the proceedings unless all the Scots swore oaths accepting him as their overlord.

And they did it (Balliol got the nod). Then they tried to get out of it, and that’s when the fighting got nasty.

And why would the Scots agree to call Edward their sovereign?

It goes back to Margaret, the Maid of Norway.

Margaret was the granddaughter of Alexander III (1241-1286) of the Canmore dynasty (descendants of Malcolm, who killed Macbeth). Although Alexander had several children, he’d made sure to make provision in his will for the succession, in case his heirs shouldn’t survive him. This proved to be prudent (though futile), because in fact all his children did predecease him. According to the terms of the will, the next in line was little Margaret, daughter of King Erik II of Norway and Alexander’s daughter Margaret, who’d died in childbirth.

The Scots lairds were not enthusiastic about this arrangement. It meant a regency, with all the insecurity and political conflict that could create. Many of them were even less enthusiastic about a plan proposed by Edward of England, who’d come up with what he thought was a beautiful solution to the Scottish problem.

Margaret would be married to his young son Edward (the poof you remember from the movie. And that part was accurate. He was, indeed, a poof). That way she’d have a good man (Edward I himself) to guide and protect her. And Edward I would be, for all practical purposes, king of England and Scotland (This was his favorite part).

The combined political power of Edward and Eric of Norway was enough to pressure the Scots to accept Margaret as their queen. In the fall of 1290 Margaret took ship for Scotland.

Unfortunately she got sick on the way (possibly food poisoning), and died in Orkney.

So Scotland was plunged into political confusion, Edward intervened, and William Wallace and Robert Bruce made their bones.

And an odd thing happened with poor little Queen Margaret. Even though she’d been essentially shoved down the throats of the Scots, she came to be remembered as a beautiful girl of surpassing virtue who might have made everything better if she’d only lived. She was the last of the Canmores, after all, the final flower of a beloved line.

In fact it’s doubtful she would have made much difference. If she’d lived, Edward I would have still lorded it over Scotland, and the Scots would still have rebelled (that’s what Scots do, after all). And she’d probably have been remembered as an evil witch, a tool of England.

Death (as someone said of Elvis) is often a good career move.

In Scotland they call her the Maid of Norway. But she’s remembered in Norway too—where they call her the Maid of Scotland.

In 1300 a woman from Lubeck, Germany showed up in Bergen, claiming to be Margaret. She hadn’t died in Orkney, she claimed. She’d been betrayed and sent to Germany, and here she was (with her husband) to claim the thrones of Scotland and Norway both.

Her claim was weakened by the fact that Margaret’s father, King Erik, had identified Margaret’s body, and that this woman looked about twenty years too old to be the Real McCoy (or the Real McErik). Norwegians, however, are easily fooled (nowadays they’re mostly liberals), and she raised a considerable following. King Haakon V, Erik’s brother and heir, put the rebellion down, beheaded her husband and burned her at the stake. For centuries, though, there was a martyr cult devoted to her in Bergen.

Oh yes, the voyage to Norway to bring the Maid of Norway to Scotland is at least part of the inspiration for the famous Scottish ballad, Sir Patrick Spens.