The English had feared that the Scots would not fight a pitched battle, and were astonished to see them at daybreak prepared to receive an attack.  Their contempt for their enemy made them eager to accept the challenge, but Gloucester, who, though only twenty-three, had more of the soldier’s eye than most of the magnates, urged Edward to postpone the encounter for a day, that the army might recover from its fatigue, and the clergy advised delay out of respect to St. John the Baptist.  Unmoved by prudence or piety, Edward denounced his nephew as a coward, and ordered an immediate advance.

The English, forgetting the lessons of the Welsh wars, sent on the archers in front of the cavalry.  Bruce, seeing that their missiles were playing havoc on his dense ranks, directed his small cavalry force to charge the archers on their left flank.  The unsupported bowmen at once fell back in confusion, leaving the cavalry to do its work.  Meanwhile the English men-at-arms were advancing in three “battles,” the first of which then came into action.  Many of the English fell into the pits prepared for them, and the Scottish shields and pikes broke the attack of those who evaded these obstacles.  Gloucester fought with rare gallantry, but was badly seconded by his followers.  At last his horse was slain under him, and he was knocked down and killed.  The troop which he led fled panic-stricken from the field.  The Scots then advanced with such vigour that the English never recovered from the disorder into which their first disaster had thrown them.  While these things were going on, the second and third English “battles” had been making feeble efforts to take their part in the fight.  But the first line cut them off from direct access to the foe, and the archers of the second battle did more harm to their friends than to their enemies by shooting wildly, straight in front of them.  There was no single directing force, nor, after Gloucester’s fall, even one conspicuous leader who would set an example of blind valour.  Hundreds of English knights, who had not drawn their swords, were soon fleeing in terror before the enemy.  Edward, who had taken up his station in the rear battle, rode off the field and never dismounted until he reached Dunbar, whence he fled by sea to Berwick.

Abandoned by their leaders, the English retreated as best they could.  Many of their best knights lay dead on the field, and more were drowned in the Forth or Bannock, or swallowed up in the bogs, than were slain in the fight.  The Scots, whose losses were slight, showed a prudent tendency to capture rather than slay the knights and barons, in order that they might hold them up to ransom, and though many desisted from the pursuit to plunder the baggage train, those who followed the English fugitives reaped an abundant harvest of captives.  Hereford was chased into Bothwell castle, which was still held for the English.  But next day the Scottish official who commanded there for Edward opened the gates to Bruce, and the earl became a prisoner.  Pembroke escaped with difficulty on foot, along with a contingent of Welsh infantry.  The mighty English army had ceased to exist; and with the surrender of Stirling, next day, Bruce’s career attained its culminating point.  His long years of trial were at last over, and the clever adventurer could henceforth enjoy in security the crown which he had so gallantly won.