The Follies of the King (21 page)

‘No horse will be able to pass over that ground,’ commented the Steward.

‘That was the intention,’ smiled Bruce. ‘Now, let us go forward with a quiet confidence. The odds are against us but we can succeed.’

‘We must succeed,’ said Randolph.

‘I thank God that it is not the English King’s father who comes against us,’

murmured Bruce.

‘Doubtless, they will carry his bones before the army,’ said the Steward, who was not a veteran of battle as the others were.

Bruce smiled at his smooth young face.

‘We learn to believe only in those omens which bring good to us,’ he said ‘But if they are good or evil―’ began the young man.

‘Evil― good― either is born in the mind. And so are victory and defeat. My friends, let us say together, “This day we shall succeed.” Come, I will speak to the men. I want every man who fights under my banner this day to be there because he wishes to see Scotland free. I want no reluctant men in my army.’

He rode forward on his small grey mare, an unimpressive animal but surefooted and chosen for this reason. He was clad on his helmet he wore a circlet of gold that all might recognize him as the King, and in spite of his somewhat unkingly mount there was that about him which inspired men and never had it been more apparent than at that moment.

He spoke in clear ringing tones. The enemy was close. Many of the men here this day would remember the bloody battles between Scotland and the late King. That King was dead now and he believed they had little to fear from his son.

‘If there is a man among you who is not fully resolved to win this field or die with honor, let him throw down his arms and go. I want no such man in my army. I would rather have but half the men who stand before me now and they good brave men, loyal to Scotland, than double the present numbers with traitors or reluctant men among you. Now is your chance. Speak now if you will. I offer you liberty to go or stay.’

There was a deep silence. Bruce’s heart was beating uncertainly. What if there cowardly men among them? What if they, sensing death close by― for assuredly it would come to some this day— grew faint-hearted and thought with longing of their bairns and their firesides away in some remote comer of Scotland far from St Ninian’s and Bannockburn?

Not a movement in the ranks. Not a sound to be heard but the ripple of the burn.

Then a great shout went up. ‘Victory for the Bruce and Scotland forever.’

I have good and faithful men to serve me,
thought Bruce. That augurs well for Scotland.

* * *

Edward’s great desire was to get the battle over. He had no doubt of the outcome. He had a fine army. If his father were looking down on him now he would be pleased with him. The Scots could not stand out against him. He had been angry because of those barons who had refused to join him but now he laughed to think how sorry they would be when he returned victorious to England.

The first thing to do was relieve Mowbray at Stirling Castle. That would be a fine gesture. He sent for Sir Robert Clifford and ordered that he take an advance party of eight hundred cavalry and capture the castle.

Sir Robert rode off. It was certain that the Scots would be expecting this move. Stirling Castle was a strategic point and it was to relieve the governor that the English army had come to Scotland. He must therefore be wary. He knew where the enemy army was situated and instead of taking direct route which could have resulted in his being seen, he with his men rode quietly round the village of St Ninian’s taking care to keep themselves out of sight as much as possible. Thus Randolph Earl of Moray whom Bruce had commanded to be watchful of just such a move did not see what was happening and it was Robert the Bruce himself who caught sight of Sir Robert and his band making their way cautiously to the castle.

The Bruce rode hastily to Randolph and demanded to know what this meant.

‘You have thought too lightly of the charge I gave you. A rose has fallen from your chaplet this day, nephew.’

Overcome with horror Randolph rode off immediately in pursuit of Clifford who hearing the approach, gave the order to his men to wheel round and attack.

Randolph had only five hundred men and he was out-numbered but he formed his troops into a square with spears held before them. The English rode forward but they could not break through the Scottish spears and Clifford gave the order to surround the Scots. The English cavalry was heavily armed and the Scottish weapons were only their long spears, short knives and battle-axes. The Scots put up a magnificent fight but they were against the heavy arms of the English cavalry and surrounded as they were, it seemed inevitable that they must be defeated although they might inflict heavy casualties upon their opponents.

Bruce was watching the affray from some distance, Sir James Douglas beside him.

‘By God, my lord,’ said Douglas, ‘this will be the end of Randolph. I must go to his aid.’

‘Nay,’ said Bruce. ‘To do so would mean a change of our plans. Randolph should have stopped them before they got so Let him fight his way out of this.’

‘It will be death for him. They will be wiped out― the whole force.’

While the conflict between Randolph and Clifford was in progress the English army had been brought to a halt while it was considered whether to begin battle that day or wait until the next. Both men and horses were tired from the long march and it was finally decided that the following day would be more appropriate.

Robert the Bruce was of the same mind regarding the time to begin the fight.

The possible loss of Randolph had meant that he must make certain adjustments to his plans, and he was riding along the line of his army, seated not on a warhorse but on his small grey mare, carrying as his only weapon his steel battle-axe when he was seen by one of the knights who was suddenly filled with a desire to win glory for himself.

The de Bohuns belonged to one of the leading families of the nobility and their prestige had been greatly enhanced when Humphrey the fourth Earl of Hereford and third Earl of Essex had married Elizabeth, the daughter of Edward I after she had been widowed by the Earl of Holland. It was true that the King might not have chosen this match for his daughter but Elizabeth had taken a fancy to Humphrey de Bohun and declared that as she had married once for state reasons she should be allowed the second time to marry as she wished.

Such a connection was highly desirable and Humphrey’s young nephew, had the sudden wild urge to bring greater glory not only to the family but on himself and so win the admiration of his influential uncle.

There was Robert the Bruce, the King of the Scots, already a legend, and de Bohun remembered the old and honoured custom that battles could often be settled by single combat and that if the leader of an army could be thus slain, the battle all but won.

What honour would befall the de Bohun family and in particular, Sir Henry if he called out the mighty Bruce and slew him? And there he was seated on a small grey mare― with nothing but a battle-axe in his hand and the only reason he could be seen to be the King was due to the golden circlet he wore over his helmet.

Young Sir Henry rode forward.

Robert the Bruce was taken momentarily by surprise. He glanced at the young rider magnificently equipped on a fine warhorse, armed for battle. It was madness to answer the challenge. He was seated on his steady grey mare. She was agile and surefooted in marshy land but how could she stand up to this mighty armoured figure?

To refuse the challenge was unthinkable yet to take it was perhaps foolhardy. But he must take it. He could imagine the rejoicing there would be in the English ranks if it was said he was afraid to ride out against the young knight.

He had to go into the attack and he had to act promptly.

He heard the gasp of those around him as he spurred the grey mare and rode out to meet de Bohun.

‘Madness, madness!’ murmured Douglas and he thought:
Where will this day end?
Randolph on the point of being taken by the English, the King accepting this unequal challenge― The hoofs of the warhorse pounded the earth as de Bohun, lance ready, came thundering towards Robert the Bruce.

The Scots watched with fear, the English with exultation. There was scarcely an English soldier who did not wish he was in de Bohun’s shoes. His name would be remembered forever.

Then the surprise. The lance should have pierced the Bruce’s heart but it did not for with incredible agility he swerved at the important moment. The lance thrust missed him and raising himself in his stirrups Bruce lifted his battle-axe and brought it down on de Bohun’s head which was all but cleft in two.

The Bruce back to his men. They surrounded him.

‘My lord, you could have been killed. This could have been the end.’

He looked rueful. ‘I have broken my battle-axe,’ he said, ‘It was a good one.’

Inwardly, he was exultant. He could imagine what effect this would have on the enemy and his own soldiers for that matter.

They would regard it as a good augury and when a small army faces a large one, auguries are very welcome.

Douglas had witnessed the King’s adventure and, considering it extremely - rash, decided that he would himself take action. He was not going to let Randolph be entirely annihilated by Clifford’s men no matter what Bruce said.

If the King could act rashly an impulse so would Douglas. The King had risked his life for a gesture. Well Douglas was going to do all in his power to see that Randolph did not lose his.

He summoned his men and rode swiftly towards the castle where the fighting between Randolph and Clifford was still going on, but as he approached he could scarcely believe his eyes for the ground was littered with the English dead and he could see that Randolph was not only holding his own, but winning the day.

‘Hold!’ cried Douglas. ‘We will not help him. To do so would be to take from him the honour which is his.’

He was right, even as he stood there watching, the English cavalry— or at least that which could get away― was galloping off with some Scots in pursuit.

It was like a miracle.

Randolph had driven off the proposed attack on Stirling.

‘God is smiling on us this day,’ said Douglas.

* * *

Night fell on the camps. The English had been sobered by the death of de Bohun and the defeat of the cavalry on the way to the castle, but not unduly so.

They outnumbered the Scots and the spirit of Great Edward marched with them.

On that Monday, the twenty-fourth of June of the year 1314, as dawn broke the Scottish army heard Mass performed by Maurice, Abbot of Inchaffray.

Every man was on his knees. Edward, from afar saw this and remarked to Robert de Umfraville, ‘Do you see? They are kneeling.’

Robert, Earl of Angus since the death of his father in 1307 and who had fought against the Scots on many occasions and as Earl of Angus was regularly summoned to the Scottish parliaments, knew Scotsmen well and he answered.

‘Yes, my lord, they kneel. But to God, not to us. I tell you this, my lord, that army will either win the day or die on this battlefield.’

‘We must see that they die on the battlefield then, Angus.’

‘My lord,’ went on Angus, who had become anglicised and believed that the alliance of Scotland with England would be advantageous to both countries and had therefore sworn fealty to the English crown, ‘I know the Scots. They will be great fighters but they lack the discipline of your army. If you feign to retreat beyond the encampment they will rush forward to attack and fall out of order.’

‘Make semblance of retreat!’ cried Edward. ‘Never.’

In his shining armour he felt supreme. He thought momentarily,
I wish Perrot could see me now.

He was going to win. He was going to confound them all, those who had been critical of him and had sworn that he could never compare with his father.

He glowed with excitement as he sounded the call to charge Gloucester and Hereford prepared to advance towards the right wing of the Scots which was under Edward Bruce.

Gloucester muttered: ‘I shall go ahead of you, Hereford.’

Hereford retorted, ‘My lord Gloucester, that will be my place.’

‘You mistake me, my lord,’ cried Gloucester, ‘if you think I shall follow where you lead.’

As they argued, the Scots advanced and Gloucester with a small company of men rode forward. It was folly for they found themselves surrounded by Scots and without sufficient support to withstand them. Thus the wrangle had put both Gloucester and Hereford at an initial disadvantage.

The battle had begun.

The English should have had the advantage. Their cavalry was magnificent, but the Scots employed the custom of the schiltrom which was a formation like a hedge with each man holding his twelve-foot spear before him, so that even the heaviest cavalry must hesitate before throwing itself against those formidable spears.

The archers provided the worst hazard for the Scots and even the schiltrom could not withstand those showers of deadly arrows which kept falling and decimating them. The Scots however carried battle-axes beside their arrows which meant that when they had exhausted their supply of arrows they could rush forth with their axes and wreak havoc.