“See, Randolph,” said the king to his nephew, “there is a rose fallen from your chaplet.”  By this he meant, that Randolph had lost some honor, by suffering the enemy to pass where he had been stationed to hinder them.  Randolph made no reply, but rushed against Clifford with little more than half his number.  The Scots were on foot.  The English turned to charge them with their lances, and Randolph drew up his men in close order to receive the onset.  He seemed to be in so much danger, that Douglas asked leave of the king to go and assist him.  The king refused him permission.

“Let Randolph,” he said, “redeem his own fault; I cannot break the order of battle for his sake.”  Still the danger appeared greater, and the English horse seemed entirely to encompass the small handful of Scottish infantry.  “So please you,” said Douglas to the king, “my heart will not suffer me to stand idle and see Randolph perish—­I must go to his assistance.”  He rode off accordingly; but long before they had reached the place of combat, they saw the English horses galloping off, many with empty saddles.

“Halt!” said Douglas to his men, “Randolph has gained the day; since we were not soon enough to help him in the battle, do not let us lessen his glory by approaching the field.”  Now, that was nobly done; especially as Douglas and Randolph were always contending which should rise highest in the good opinion of the king and the nation.

The van of the English army now came in sight, and a number of their bravest knights drew near to see what the Scots were doing.  They saw King Robert dressed in his armor, and distinguished by a gold crown, which he wore over his helmet.  He was not mounted on his great war-horse, because he did not expect to fight that evening.  But he rode on a little pony up and down the ranks of his army, putting his men in order, and carried in his hand a sort of battle-axe made of steel.  When the king saw the English horsemen draw near, he advanced a little before his own men, that he might look at them more nearly.

There was a knight among the English, called Sir Henry de Bohun, who thought this would be a good opportunity to gain great fame to himself, and put an end to the war, by killing King Robert.  The king being poorly mounted, and having no lance, Bohun galloped on him suddenly and furiously, thinking, with his long spear, and his tall powerful horse, easily to bear him down to the ground.  King Robert saw him, and permitted him to come very near, then suddenly turned his pony a little to one side, so that Sir Henry missed him with the lance-point, and was in the act of being carried past him by the career of his horse.  But as he passed, King Robert rose up in his stirrups, and struck Sir Henry on the head with his battle-axe so terrible a blow, that it broke to pieces his iron helmet as if it had been a nutshell, and hurled him from his saddle.  He was dead before he reached the ground.  This gallant action was blamed by the Scottish leaders, who thought Bruce ought not to have exposed himself to so much danger, when the safety of the whole army depended on him.  The king only kept looking at his weapon, which was injured by the force of the blow, and said, “I have broken my good battle-axe.”