But in October or November of that year, “having sworn upon the Holy Gospels” that he “would faithfully keep and observe the ordinances of the pacification of Scotland, Bruce took leave of the king, and returned home, with great appearance of joy and satisfaction.” No one pretends that the king had given him any cause for discontent or alienation. Yet every Scottish historian that has ever written on the subject has avowed his conviction that this swearing on the gospels was a deliberate perjury, and that the show of “joy and satisfaction” was wholly hypocritical. They all assure us that at this very time Bruce was planning and conspiring, with various persons, to obtain for himself the crown of Scotland.
In this temper of mind he began his journey homewards. He would direct his course, naturally, first to Holme Cultram, in Cumberland, where his father had, but a year or two before, been buried. From Holme Cultram a vessel would carry him in two or three hours to Dumfries, from whence an hour’s ride would bring him to his Scottish home at Lochmaben. During his long ride from Sheen and from London, his thoughts would inevitably turn to those three obstacles, of which we have spoken, which stood between him and the crown of Scotland; and we know now what must have been his thoughts. It is easy to describe them, without any risk of error.
Baliol, he knew, had pledged himself, three or four years before, not to meddle any further in the affairs of Scotland; nor had he any concealed intentions of another kind. Voluntarily, and expressing his own feelings, he had declared that he would never again set foot in a country which had treated him so unjustly. Baliol, therefore, who had been an obstacle in times past, might now be dismissed from view; he could obstruct the path no longer.
A more serious question was that which concerned Edward himself; but Bruce had latterly been spending much time in the king’s company, and he had learnt enough to satisfy him that the great warrior had seen the last of his battle‐fields. Edward was now in his sixty‐seventh year. The length of his lower limbs had always been the one fault in his otherwise perfect symmetry, and those limbs now began to fail him. In a public ceremonial, a few months after this, the king’s strength gave way before his task had been performed. Bruce might confidently assure himself that, whatever might happen, the victor of Falkirk would never again be found at the head of an army on the soil of Scotland. As for the young prince, he was not worth a thought.
Two principal obstacles, then, were vanishing out of his way, and the crisis, the present moment, was all‐important. A plan of a new English government had just been agreed upon, but it had still to be constructed and established. If that government should be allowed to develope itself, to assume the reins, and to take the rule of Scotland into its hands, a new rebellion might be almost a hopeless task. Now, if ever—now, with ten times more hope than two years later—now, must the effort be made.
But, though two obstacles had almost vanished, the third still remained. Comyn was “the first noble in the realm.”[152] His power in Scotland was far greater than that of Bruce. He had acted, too, as regent of Scotland for some five years past. Upon the course he should now take, the success of any new attempt must mainly depend. He had but recently applied for the king’s pardon, and had received it. He had, at the same time, given a new oath of fealty to the king. What would he now do? Should he adhere to his oath, and give his help to put down a new insurrection, what reasonable prospect of success would there be? Yet how could Bruce expect Comyn, after struggling in vain against English rule for five years, now to incur the terrible risk of a new rebellion? and that not for himself, but for another? The case seemed hopeless. What, then, was to be done?
Such thoughts as these, we cannot for a moment doubt, must have passed through Bruce’s mind in his journey from Sheen to Scotland, in October and November, 1305. The question seemed to reduce itself within the smallest limits: “Comyn, what will he do? And, supposing he refuses to aid us in a new rebellion, by what means can we thrust him out of our way?”
The answer to this question, the final resolve, we know to have been an evil one. Bruce had already entangled himself in the guilt of deception and hypocrisy, but now he must go much further. The great prize of a crown was suspended before him, and he would hesitate at nothing to gain it.
His decision was formed: if Comyn would obstruct his course—if Comyn would neither act nor permit others to act, then Comyn must be got rid of. A settled plan of deliberate assassination was the final result of these long cogitations.
Four of the principal English chroniclers of the time, besides divers others, give us the result.