At the head of a hundred thousand men, Edward had forced a rapid passage through the Lowlands, and was now within a few hours' march of Stirling, fully determined to bury Scotland under her own slain, or, by one decisive blow, restore her to his empire.
When this was uttered by the English herald, Bruce turned to Ruthven with an heroic smile:
"Let him come, my brave barons, and he shall find that Bannockburn shall page with Cambus-Kenneth!"
The strength of the Scottish army did not amount to more than thirty thousand men against this host of Southrons. But the relics of Wallace were there! His spirit glowed in the heart of Bruce. The young monarch lost not the advantage of choosing his ground first, and therefore, as his power was deficient in cavalry, he so took his field as to compel the enemy to make it a battle of infantry alone.
To protect his exposed flank from the innumerable squadrons of Edward, he dug deep and wide pits near to Bannockburn, and having overlaid their mouths with turf and brushwood, proceeded to marshal his little phalanx on the shore of that brook till his front stretched to St. Ninan's Monastery.
The center was led by Lord Ruthven and Walter Stewart; the right owned by the valiant leading of Douglas and Ramsay, supported by the brave young Gordon with all his clan; and the left was put in charge of Lennox, with Sir Thomas Randolph, a crusade chieftain, who, like Lindsay and others, had lately returned from distant lands, and now zealously embraced the cause of his country.
Bruce stationed himself at the head of the reserve; with him were the veterans Loch-awe, and Kirkpatrick, and Lord Bothwell with the true De Longueville, and the men of Lanark, all determined to make this division the stay of their little army, or the last sacrifice for Scottish liberty and its martyred champion's corpse. There stood the sable hearse of Wallace, rather than yield the ground which he had rendered doubly precious by having made it the scene and the guerdon of his invincible deeds! When Kirkpatrick approached the side of his dead chief, he burst into tears, and his sobs alone proclaimed his participation in the solemnity. The vow spread to the surrounding legions, and was echoed, with mingled cries and acclamations, from the furthest ranks.
"My leader, in death as in life!" exclaimed Bruce, clasping his friend's sable shroud to his heart; "thy pale corpse shall again redeem the country which cast thee, living, amongst devouring lions! Its presence shall fight and conquer for thy friend and king!"
Before the chiefs turned to resume their martial stations, the abbot of Inchaffray drew near with the mysterious iron box, which Douglas had caused to be brought from St. Fillan's Priory. On presenting it to the young monarch, he repeated the prohibition which had been given with it, and added, "Since, then, these canonized relics (for none can doubt they are so) have found protection under the no less holy arm of St. Fillan, he now delivers them to your youthful majesty, to penetrate their secrets, and to nerve your mind with redoubled trust in the saintly host."
"The saints are to be honored, reverend father, and on that principle I shall not invade their mysteries till the God in whom alone I trust, marks me with more than the name of king; till, by a decisive victory, he establishes me the approved champion of my country—the worthy successor of him before whose mortal body and immortal spirit I now emulate his deeds. But as a memorial that the host of heaven do indeed learn from the bright abodes to wish well to this day, let these holy relics repose with those of the brave till the issue of the battle."