"No!" exclaimed the king with disdain. "We are the sons of the men who conquered at Bannockburn, and by St. Andrew! we are bound to prove that we have inherited the valour which they so often displayed on the crests of foemen."
And so, within a few miles of the armed foes, who had sprung from hamlet, and grange, and castle to repel his invasion, the young king lay down to rest, all eagerness for the hour when he was to try his fortune at the game of carnage.
Nor was there much danger of his patience being severely tried; for the crisis of his fate had arrived.
[CHAPTER XXVI]
THE EVE OF BATTLE
It was the evening of Friday, the 16th of October, 1346, when, in the company of Copeland, the Northumbrian esquire, I reached Durham, and first beheld the city associated with the memory of St. Cuthbert.
And fine and picturesque, I did confess, was the appearance which the place presented at the close of that October day, when threatened by the Scottish foe. The eye of my comrade gleamed with provincial pride as he marked the impression produced on me by the sight; and he exclaimed, in a tone of triumph—
"A fair city."
"Passing fair," I replied; and, not unwilling to display the little knowledge I possessed, I added, "and it seems to me to be, like Rome, built on seven hills."
"God's truth," said Copeland, "I know not on how many hills Rome may be built; but I have heard men say that whoso hath seen the situation of Durham has seen the map of Zion, and may save himself the trouble of a journey to Jerusalem."