“Well said, my faithful Walter!” replied Bruce. “’Tis in truth a love adventure, but concerns no lady fair, for my good wife is fairer to me than all other women. But ’tis for love of country we go forth,—to free our bonny Scotland. Surely that were love adventure worthy of both a valiant knight and loyal husband. Still it is for sake of lovely woman also; for my sweet wife and fair daughters are e’en now in Scotland, and I fear me that their liberty, if not their lives, will soon be in danger, as I am warned that the wily King Edward is my bitter enemy and treacherous spy.”
“Ha! ’tis well spoken, good master!” exclaimed Kennedy, with enthusiasm, and lifting his Scotch bonnet from his head, he cried aloud, “Bruce to the rescue.”
“Hist, man!” said Bruce, laying his hand upon the bridle-rein of his faithful and loyal retainer; “knowest thou not that these English forests secrete hostile ears, to whom thy wild cry wouldst betray us? Not till I have gathered my forces and blown the bugle-horn of the valiant Wallace, will it be safe to openly sound that war-cry.”
The snow still fell thickly, and it was difficult to follow the right route through the blinding storm; but ere long the moon shone out with brightness, and seemed to smile upon their perilous adventure, and promise success.
After a few days Bruce arrived at Dumfries, in Annandale, the chief seat of his family interests. Here he found a great number of the Scottish noblemen assembled, and among the rest the treacherous John Comyn. These noblemen were astonished at the appearance of Bruce amongst them, and still more when he avowed his determination to live or die with them in the defence of the liberty of Scotland. All the nobles declared their unanimous resolution to rise to arms in the cause of their enslaved country. Comyn alone opposed this measure. Bruce, already sure of his treachery, followed Comyn on the dissolution of the assembly, and attacked him in the cloisters of the Gray Friars, through which he passed, and piercing him with his sword, left him bleeding on the ground. As Bruce rushed into the street, pale and agitated, Sir Thomas Kirkpatrick, one of his friends, asked him if all was well. “I fear I have slain Comyn,” replied Bruce, as he hastily mounted his horse.
“Such a matter must not be left to doubt,” exclaimed Kirkpatrick; “I’ll mak sicker!”—and dashing into the sanctuary, he ran his dagger into the heart of the dying Comyn.
This deed of Bruce and his friend, which would be justly condemned in the present age, was at that time regarded as an act of valiant patriotism and commendable policy. The family of Kirkpatrick were so proud of the deed that they took for the crest of their arms a hand with a bloody dagger, and chose for their motto those words, “I’ll mak sicker!” meaning, “I will make sure of it.”
Bruce now raised the standard of independence. Some priests and lords gathered round him, and boldly crowned him at Scone. On the day of the Annunciation, 1306, Scotland received her ninety-seventh king in the person of the valiant Robert Bruce; and all Scotland rang with the joyful war-cry, “Bruce to the rescue!”
The undertaking of Bruce was one of a gigantic nature. Yet amidst all the seemingly insurmountable obstacles which surrounded him from English foes and Scottish grandees,—who were many of them in league against him, for the faction of Baliol and the powerful family of Comyn were his avowed enemies,—and though he was subjected to frequent perils, dangerous ambuscades and escapes, and many individual conflicts of daring courage, Robert Bruce persisted firmly in his patriotic design of restoring his enslaved country to freedom, and giving protection to the people who had formerly called his ancestor their king.
Edward I. had now become aged and unwieldly, so that he could not readily mount on horseback. When he was informed of this daring attempt of Bruce to wrest from his power a kingdom which had cost him so much to gain and hold, he despatched a messenger to the Pope, praying him to issue the thunders of the Vatican against this bold traitor and murderer of Comyn, and that he would place under interdict all who should endeavor to aid him or draw a sword in defence of liberty. This sentence of interdict, which the Pope often issued against sovereigns for the most trivial offences, involved a nation in the greatest misery. The people were deprived of all the services of the church; no sacred rite was performed for them except the baptism of infants, and the administration of the communion to the dying.