They were so beset on every part,—some were slain and some drowned themselves.—Sir John de Lyndsay would not remain,—he waded into the water with his companions beside him—to drown.—Why would not they beware?—There is none looked again (?):—why would not they reflect?
It was before St. Bartholomew’s mass,—that Fraser was taken, were it more or less:—To Sir Thomas de Multon, a gentle knight and liberal,—and to Sir John Jose, he was delivered then—in hand:—he was well fettered—both with iron and with steel,—to bring out of Scotland.
Soon afterwards the tidings came to the king;—they sent him to London with many an armed man;—he came in at Newgate, I tell it you faithfully,—a garland of leaves placed on his head—of green;—because he should be known—both by high and by low—as a traitor, I ween.
Fettered were his legs under his horse’s belly;—both with iron and with steel manacled were his hands;—a garland of periwinkle set on his head;—much was the power that was taken from him—in land:—As may God amend me!—he little supposed—so to be brought in hand.
Sir Herbert of Morham, a fair knight and bold,—for the love of Fraser his life was sold;—a wager he made, so it was said,—to smite off his head if they took him in hold,—whatever betide.—Sorry was he then,—when he might know him—to ride through the town.
Then said his squire a word anon right,—“Sir, we are dead, there is no creature to help us;”—(the squire was named Thomas de Bois)—“now I wot our wager turns to our sorrow,—so bet.”—I give you to know,—their heads were smitten off—before the gate of the Tower.
It was on our Lady’s eve, for truth I understand,—the justices sat for the knights of Scotland,—Sir Thomas de Multon, a gentle knight and wise,—and Sir Ralph de Sandwich, who is much esteemed in worth,—and Sir John Abel;—more I might tell by reckoning,—both of great and of small,—ye know very well.
Then said the justice, who is gentle and free,—“Sir Simon Fraser, the king’s traitor hast thou been,—on water and on land, as many may see:—what sayest thou thereto? how wilt thou clear thyself?—do say.”—He knew himself to be so foul,—he had not whereon to trust—to say, nay.
There he was judged, as it was the law of the land,—because he was traitor to his lord, first he was drawn,—upon a bullock’s hide forth he was led:—for once in his life he was a moody knight—in heart.—Wickedness and sin,—it is little gain—that makes the body smart.
For all his great power, still he was taken;—falseness and treachery all come to nothing;—when he was in Scotland, little was his thought—of the hard judgment which was prepared for him—in a short time.—He was four times perjured—to the king there before,—and that brought him to the ground.