invaders.  His eloquence was irresistible, and although there were not more than fifty trained soldiers in the city, they attacked the Scots, who retreated.  The Archbishop’s army was utterly unskilled in the arts of war, and carried all kinds of weapons, many of them obsolete.  The Bishop of Ely, Lord High Chancellor of England, rode alongside the Archbishop, and behind them rode the Lord Mayor, followed by a multitude of clergy in white surplices, with monks, canons, friars, and other ecclesiastics, all fully dressed in the uniform of their offices.  But only one result was possible, for they were opposed to 16,000 of Robert Bruce’s best-trained soldiers.  Meantime the Scots did not know the character of the foe before whom they were retreating, but, crossing the River Swale near the point where it meets the Yore, they set fire to a number of haystacks, with the result that the smoke blew into the faces of the Archbishop and his followers, as the wind was blowing in their direction.  They, however, pressed bravely forward, but the Scots attacked them both in front and rear, and in less than an hour four thousand men and youths, their white robes stained with blood, were lying dead on the field of battle, while many were drowned in the river.  The sight of so many surpliced clergy struck terror into the heart of the Earl of Murray and his men, who, instead of pursuing farther the retreating army, amongst whom were the aged Archbishop and his prelates—­the Lord Mayor had been killed—­retired northwards.

Through the long hours of that night women, children, and sweethearts gazed anxiously from the walls of York, watching and waiting for those who would never return, and for many a long year seats were vacant in the sacred buildings of York.  Thus ended the “Battle of the White,” so named from the great number of surpliced clergy who took part therein.  The old Archbishop escaped death, and one of the aged monks wrote that—­

The triumphal standard of the Archbishop also was saved by the cross-bearer, who, mounted on a swift horse, plunged across the river, and leaving his horse, hid the standard in a dense thicket, and escaped in the twilight.  The pike was of silver, and on the top was fixed the gilded image of our Lord Jesus Christ.  Near where it was hidden a poor man was also hiding, and he twisted some bands of hay round it, and kept it in his cottage, and then returned it to the Bishop.

About this time England was like a house divided against itself, for the barons had revolted against King Edward II.  A battle was again fought at Boroughbridge on June 22nd, 1322, between the rebel army led by the Earls of Lancaster and Hereford, and the King’s forces who were pursuing them.  They were obliged to retreat over the bridge, which at that time was built of wood; but when they reached it, they found another part of the King’s army of whose presence they were unaware, so they had to fight for the possession