Transcript
Verizon/McDonald's Advertiser (0:00)
This holiday, Verizon is helping you bundle up incredible gifts and savings. You'll get the latest phone with a new line on MyPlan and a brand new smartwatch and tablet. No trade in needed even on our lowest price plan. That's two gifts for your family and one for you. Or two for you and one for someone else. Or three gifts for you and only you. Either way, you save big on three amazing gifts at Verizon, all on the best 5G network. Visit Verizon today. Rankings based on rootmetric Truth score report dated 1 each 2025. Your results may vary. Service plan required for watch and tablet. Additional terms apply. Our HBCUs have a legacy that's straight up golden, and McDonald's is proud to help keep it that way. Since 2021, the Golden Arches has connected with the Thurgood Marshall College fund to provide $1 million in scholarships for students headed to our HBCUs. That kind of cash helps keep bright minds on the yard dreams within reach and the future golden. Learn more about McDonald's Black and Positively Golden Scholarships at mcdblackscholars.com.
Matt Lewis (1:03)
Hello, I'm Matt Lewis. Welcome to Gone Medieval From History Hit, the podcast that delves into the greatest millennium in human history. We've got the most intriguing mysteries, the gobsmacking details, and latest groundbreaking research. From the Vikings to the printing press, from kings to popes to the Crusades, we cross centuries and continents to delve into rebellions, plots and murders, to find the stories, big and small, that tell us how we got here, find out who we really were with. Gone Medieval. It's a cold and misty December. In the biting icy winds, two Ford Anglias are chucking discreetly south along the A74, passing through Carlisle and and over the border into England. The drivers of these inconspicuous vehicles are treading a path that many Scotsmen have taken before them in the fight for independence. History is full of fierce examples. 1315 saw the siege of Carlisle, in which Robert the Bruce plagued the borderlands. Life in the marches has been wrought with bloodshed and devastation. But the year now is 1950, and instead of spearmen and cavalry leading the charge, four ordinary University of Glasgow students sit behind the wheel as they trundle through the night towards their target, Westminster. The paved A roads may now be less treacherous than those which saw the end of Alexander III and the beginning of the wars over Scotland's nationhood. They may still be less arduous than the road taken by the disgraced King John Balliol. But for the students, they may as well be those same dirt trodden tracks. They make their journey with caution, full of anticipation. After 18 long hours, the Ford Anglias weave their way into the capital and through the streets of London. The shadows of Aldgate, St Paul's and the palace of Westminster fall across them. Kaye Matheson, domestic science student and getaway driver, pulls into the cosy Lions Corner house. Here, tucked in a corner and over a warm cup of tea, they begin to draw up their final plans. Along with Kay sit Gavin Vernon, Ian Hamilton and Alan Stewart. These daring students have come all this way for one purpose, ending over 700 years of Scottish subjugation and reigniting the petition of for an independent Scotland. Looking over the Thames, you can make out the site of Westminster Abbey, which has stood for centuries. Its walls have borne witness to the shifting sands of time, where they gained through bloodlines of old or by blood freshly spilt, king after king, have in that very abbey lowered themselves onto the coronation chair. Crowned in sight of God, down to the splinters, the coronation chair is the ancient heart of English sovereignty. Like the country around it, though, the throne hasn't been left unsullied by the tumult of time. 1914 saw the suffragettes place a bomb under the chair, a petition for their right to vote. The bomb, filled with nuts and bolts, shook the walls of the abbey, but the throne survived. It's now Christmas Eve and as the December light begins to dim into the early evening, staff usher out the last visitors and scurry home to their celebrations, leaving the abbey empty save for the watchmen. They pace up and down the long corridors, weaving between the tombs and reliquies of old kings and saints. All who remain in the abbey are under the eternal gaze of the Virgin Mary and Jesus. Cast into ornate stained glass, these apertures slowly lose their lustre and darken to black as the sun sets and evening transforms itself into wintry night. The watchmen plod their same route, a route which had been carefully observed by our Scottish students the day before. Avoiding the gaze of the guards, Ian, Vernon and Stuart slip into the works yard of the abbey. Breaking into Poets Corner. They're one step closer to the chapel and their prize. Another student in an unassuming Ford Anglia sits outside the abbey, engine humming as the three others creep up to the royal chair, Edward I's fine creation. The coronation chair sits exposed, removed of all its pomp and magnificence in the dark, silent night. But Edward's chair isn't the target of this break. In under the seat of the throne, surrounded on each side by ornately carved lions, is a stone. A simple sandstone block, large and ungainly. You can still see the marks made by the tools used to carve it. Why would a king sit above this, something so plain, so out of place against the fine, ornate wooden throne? Filled with trepidation, the students manoeuvre their fingers around the stone, gripping as hard as they can onto the treacherously flat block. It's heavy and awkward as they pull. With some effort, they begin sliding the stone away from the throne and into their arms. As the three students grasp the coronation stone, a harsh sound suddenly echoes through the chapel. A sound which stops them in their tracks and silences their frantic whispers. When the nuts and bolts of that makeshift suffragette bomb had ricocheted against it, the fracture had cut deep within the stone. This final moment of unrest had been enough. Even in the unlit chapel, the Christmas moonlight fell onto their precious stone. A stone that had been lying at rest for 700 years of British history. And now it had split in two. Hamilton, taking off his coat, has the solution. They lift the largest surviving part of the stone onto his jacket and drag it along the ancient floor.
