The next morning, being the twenty-fourth of June, at break of day, the battle began in terrible earnest.  The English as they advanced saw the Scots getting into line.  The Abbot of Inchaffray walked through their ranks bare-footed, and exhorted them to fight for their freedom.  They kneeled down as he passed, and prayed to Heaven for victory.  King Edward, who saw this, called out, “They kneel down—­they are asking forgiveness.”

[Illustration:  BRUCE SLAYS SIR HENRY DE BOHUN]

“Yes,” said a celebrated English baron, called Ingelram de Umphraville, “but they ask it from God, not from us—­these men will conquer, or die upon the field.”

The English king ordered his men to begin the battle.  The archers then bent their bows, and began to shoot so closely together, that the arrows fell like flakes of snow on a Christmas day.  They killed many of the Scots, and might, as at Falkirk, and other places, have decided the victory; but Bruce was prepared for them.  He had in readiness a body of men-at-arms, well mounted, who rode at full gallop among the archers, and as they had no weapons save their bows and arrows, which they could not use when they were attacked hand to hand, they were cut down in great numbers by the Scottish horsemen and thrown into total confusion.

The fine English cavalry then advanced to support their archers, and to attack the Scottish line.  But coming over the ground which was dug full of pits, the horses fell into these holes, and the riders lay tumbling about, without any means of defence, and unable to rise, from the weight of their armor.  The Englishmen began to fall into general disorder; and the Scottish king, bringing up more of his forces, attacked and pressed them still more closely.

On a sudden, while the battle was obstinately maintained on both sides, an event happened which decided the victory.  The servants and attendants on the Scottish camp had, as I told you, been sent behind the army to a place afterward called the Gillies’ hill.  But when they saw that their masters were likely to gain the day, they rushed from their place of concealment with such weapons as they could get, that they might have their share in the victory and in the spoil.  The English, seeing them come suddenly over the hill, mistook this disorderly rabble for a new army coming up to sustain the Scots, and, losing all heart, began to shift every man for himself.  Edward himself left the field as fast as he could ride.  A valiant knight, Sir Giles de Argentine, much renowned in the wars of Palestine, attended the king till he got him out of the press of the combat.  But he would retreat no further.  “It is not my custom,” he said, “to fly.”  With that he took leave of the king, set spurs to his horse, and calling out his war-cry of Argentine!  Argentine! he rushed into the thickest of the Scottish ranks, and was killed.