Bruce to his lodgings went anon.
The little respite he had won
You may be certain made him glad.
His steward instantly he bade
Provide his men in every way
Their entertainment for the day.
Himself would in his chamber be
A long while in strict privacy
Attended by his clerk alone.
As soon as e’er the steward had gone
To carry out his lord’s behest,
The Bruce without a moment’s rest,
Keeping his foemen in the dark,
Mounted on horseback with his clerk.
He rode by night, he rode by day,
Halting but little on the way,
Until, ere fifteen days were passed,
They saw Lochmaben’s walls at last.
His brother Edward there they found,
Who viewed with wonder, I’ll be bound,
This journey hasty and concealed.
The Bruce to him the cause revealed,
How, to escape King Edward’s might,
He had resolved on sudden flight.
Now, as it happened, on that day
The Comyn was not far away:
’Twas at Dumfries he then abode.
The Bruce took horse and thither rode,
Firmly resolved to pay him well
For that which he had dared to tell.
From his resolve he did not falter:
Confronting Comyn at the altar
Of Gray Friars’ Church with laughing face,
He showed him in that holy place
The fatal pact, and with a knife
Stabbed him and took away his life.
Sir Edmund Comyn also died,
And many mighty men beside.
However there are some who say
This happened in another way;
But, whatsoever caused the strife,
Thereby the Comyn lost his life,
And Bruce did evil to defy
The holy altar’s sanctity,
For which such troubles him befell,
That no romance did ever tell
Of man that was so sore distressed
And was at last by fortune blessed.
Now going back, I must relate
How England’s monarch sat in state
With all his peers in Parliament,
And for the Bruce a summons sent.
Knights, who the royal mandate bore,
Appear before the Bruce’s door,
But call in vain. The servants say
That by command since yesterday
In his own room their lord had been
By all except his clerk unseen.
When, after knocking long in vain,
They found they could no answer gain,
They broke the door, but, though they sought
All through the room, discovered nought.
So they returned and told the King,
Why they had failed the Bruce to bring.
At his escape the King grieved sore,
And, filled with wrath, he stoutly swore
That Bruce both hanged and drawn should be.
He swore with confidence; but he,
The Bruce, hoped it might not be so,
And when, as ye already know,
In church he had the Comyn slain,
He to his castle went again.
Thence sent he messengers to ride
And carry letters far and wide
Bidding his friends come to his aid
And join the force he had arrayed,
For he now purposed to be crowned.
Translated from Scots by Michael MacMillan