Page 162 of Bound By Honor
King Robert, observing the worsening conditions, nodded his consent. “Very well, Jamie, go.”
Douglas hurried off. As he and his schiltron moved nearer to Randolph, the English knights fell into confusion, some galloped off while horses rushed away riderless. The Scots held their lines amidst their dead enemies. The English knights that still remained threw swords, maces and knives at Randolph’s spearmen in apparent frustration, but the hedge of steel remained unbroken.
“Halt!” Douglas shouted to his men. “Randolph has won, and we will not lessen their glory by seeking to share it.”
In the hot sun, a mist of dust and heat brooded over the battlefield.
The English detachment that had attempted Stirling broke in two. Half rode for the castle and the remainder, including Clifford, returned to the main army.
Meanwhile, the English army moved out of the Torwood. Ahead of them rode the vanguard, led by Gloucester and Hereford, moving into the New Park. They were near enough to see King Robert, with his yellow surcoat bearing the rampant red lion and gold crown encircling his helmet, riding his palfrey along the front of the lines, giving last minute orders to oppose the English advance.
A knight riding ahead of the English van paused, his focus on the king. The knight wore full armor and rode a powerful destrier. Facing the king, his shield at the ready, he lowered his lance and dropped his visor, as if preparing to charge.
The men around Angus gasped in horror to see the king threatened, for he was mounted to command infantry not to defend a heavy cavalry charge. He wore only light armor and carried no weapons save a short axe.
Fearless, King Robert rode out to meet the eager knight.
Angus held his breath though he did not despair.This must be a young knight to challenge the king hailed as one of the best knights in all of Christendom.“Who is that knight?” he asked Sir Neil Campbell who stood with the men of Argyll in the king’s division.
“’Tis Hereford’s nephew, Sir Henry de Bohun. Fool that he is to challenge the champion of the Scots in single combat.”
“The king risks much to allow this,” put in Sir Gilbert Haye, standing by Angus.
It was too late to shout an objection. Bohun thundered toward the king, his lance poised to strike.
As they closed, Bruce swerved his agile palfrey aside to avoid the lance. It was a near miss but a miss all the same. Turning, the king stood in his stirrups, raised his axe and struck the knight with a powerful blow. The blade cleaved through his helmet to lodge deep in his skull, shattering the axe shaft.
De Bohun crashed from the saddle, dead before he hit the ground.
Cheers rose from the Scots army. Angus’ heart thrilled at the king’s courage and skill. Had Rob failed, Scotland’s hopes would have been dashed. Instead, he had triumphed and, Scots being Scots, the men took it as an auspicious omen. How could they not fight to the death when their king, alone with only an axe, had been willing to do the same? It might have been foolish to risk so much, but its effect on the army was glorious.
Emboldened by the king’s feat, Angus ordered the king’s schiltron forward, forming a bristling hedge of steel-tipped pikes, against which the English vanguard, far outstripping their foot soldiers, foundered in confusion.
Gloucester’s horse was killed under him. Only his troops, dragging him to safety in the thick of the fray, saved him from capture.
As Sir Edward’s division emerged from the woods in support of the battling rearguard in which Angus and his Islesmen fought, the English fell back. With a great shout, the Scots surged forward.
The English horsemen turned and fled, beaten and in disorder. Trapped by the ford of the Bannock Burn, they were prevented from moving forward by the hidden pits into which they stumbled.
A slaughter ensued until the remaining English gave up their attack and retreated. King Robert recalled his men and withdrew to the safety of the wooded New Park.
Once under the protection of the trees, the king dismounted and was confronted by his angry nobles. An exasperated Sir Gilbert Haye said, “What were you thinking risking all?”
“You could have been killed!” exclaimed Malcolm, Earl of Lennox. “And where would Scotland be then?”
Sir Edward shook his head.
Sir Neil Campbell stood by, his arms crossed over his chest and his brow lowered.
It was clear to Angus the king’s men had been shocked, and possibly frightened, at what had transpired.
King Robert’s only reply was to complain about the loss of his favorite axe.
Angus smiled at his friend. “I would have done the same, though mayhap with not so glorious a result. You risked much, yet you have given the men cause to celebrate the courage of the kingdom’s brave king and to commit their all for Scotland.”
Angus returned to his chiefs and Islesmen to see how they fared. Save a few wounds of minor consequence, all were fine.
As the day waned, Angus stepped out of the woods for a brief moment, gazing east, hardly believing his eyes. The English forces, thousands both mounted and on foot, had retired to the boggy Carse.
