Hear now how the grace of Jesus Christ—warned the gentle King Edward of the treason.—Thomas came to England and said to the king,—that he had escaped out of prison by night,—and that he had run so great a risk out of love to Sir Edward.—The king showed him in return courtesy enough;—and afterwards Turbeville inquired day by day—the state of the land, and provided for his going—from place to place to seek of great and of little,—how he could do such injury to the English,—that King Edward should lose his land.—The condition of every part, as he understood it,—he sent over with the cardinals by one of his own servants—to the Provost of Paris, who made joy enough about it.—The clerk who wrote the letter for Turbeville,—made known its contents to the king’s most secret counsellor.—The thief got to know this, and immediately took to flight;—a serjeant at arms, who followed him very closely,—surprised Turbeville the third day after.
The traitor is taken, and brought to London,—with very great wickedness which was found upon him.—The things which are aforesaid, which he had agreed to do,—by the king’s will are put under foot,—until the world is otherwise turned.—Turbeville is judged in the court as a traitor;—he was first drawn through the town of London,—and then hanged like a thief, for his malpractices.—For our King Edward God has interfered much—now and at other times for his safety.
When vengeance is done upon Turbeville,—the cardinals of Rome, who had repaired to France—have had frequent conversation with King Philip,—and have often besought the King of Germany,—and have demonstrated by clerks and laymen—to the gentle King Edward, that the variance is hard—about which he and King Philip are at discord;—whereby they have so ordained the matter,—that he and the two kings shall send without delay—to Cambrai clerks and laymen of great knowledge,—to treat of the peace, and to judge the grievances,—and to make the amends for the war.—King Edward agrees to it with good faith;—to Cambrai he has sent without any delay—bishops and barons of great account.—May God by his power guard them from treason!
While these lords are gone upon this message,—Sir Edward the brother of the King of gentle spirit,—the Earl of Lincoln with all his retainers,—Sir William de Vescy, a good and prudent knight,—barons and vavasors of gentle lineage,—knights and sergeants with their cousinage,—footmen without number from moor and wood,—and Welshmen who know how to fight from frequent practice,—are gone into Gascony, and entered on the passage,—with thirty-six banners of the best escuage—that was in England, except the vassalage—of those who now perform their seignorage.—For those who are left to guard their inheritance,—the king has required and taken into his expedition—against the King of Scotland and his false baronage,—who have withdrawn their homage from King Edward.—The first day of March, in all the great storm,—comes King Edward with very great purveyance,—to Newcastle-upon-Tyne, for the great outrage—which the wicked dogs have effected in their folly.—May our King Edward suffer the “male rage,”—if he does not take them and hold them so fast in cage,—that nothing shall remain after his taillage,—except only their rivelings and their bare backsides.
Robert de Ros of Wark fled from the English,—and entered into the war with the people of Scotland.—The King Sir Edward seized his castle,—held the festival of Easter there, and afterwards went—towards Berwick-on-Tweed, and besieged the town.—The ill-fated people at first surprised—two ships of English, and put them to death.—King Edward heard of it, and attacked the gates;—the English passed the ditches without respite.—On Easter Friday in the afternoon he conquered—the town of Berwick; the English slew there—four thousand Scotchmen, and many others perished.—Sir Edward lost there one knight and no more,—Richard de Cornwall [was he], a Fleming struck him—with an arrow which he shot out of the red hall.—Soon was the hall taken, the fire cleared the way.—The keeper of the castle when he saw the necessity,—delivered the castle to King Edward before it was assaulted.—William Douglas was chosen in it,—and Richard Fraser, to do injury to the king;—the king has them prisoners. Jesus Christ be thanked!
The Earl of the March, the famous Patrick,—of his own free will came in to the king’s peace;—Gilbert de Umfraville before remained—with King Edward, to whom he was sworn;—Sir Robert de Bruce with all his household—holds always his fealty to King Edward,—and has shown him love in his wars against the Scots.—When Berwick was taken, there was found within it—gold and silver without measure, and plenty of the other metals,—and all the nobility which belonged to a city.—The Baliol has lost the issue and entry—of the noblest town that was in his power.—King Edward holds it conquered by the sword,—causes it to be surrounded with a ditch large and broad,—in reproof of the Scot who had sung of him,—and made rhymes in English for mockery.—Let him pike and let him dike,—they said in scorn,—how it may best be.—He pikes and he dikes,—in length as he likes,—as they may best see.—Scattered are the Scots,—huddled in their huts,—they never thrive:—Right if I read,—they tumble in Tweed—who dwelt by the sea.
Whilst Sir Edward with earls and barons—caused Berwick to be surrounded with ditches,—there are issued from Scotland three earls, by name—Mar, Ross, and Menteith, with forty thousand rascals;—they were going in the route in parties,—they reduced Tindale to ashes and cinders,—the town of Corbridge and the two monasteries—of Hexham and Lanercost they have destroyed by fire,—they have made slaughter of the people of the country,—carried off their goods, driven away the canons.—After the ravage like fools and miserable wretches—they are gone to Dunbar to their confusion.—They have taken the castle, and erect their tents,—the houses belonged to the Earl of the March.—King Edward heard tell of it, and issued summonses—to recover Dunbar, and take the thieves—who had made destruction of holy church.—A little before this time, through the regions,—the cardinal returned from Cambrai with an answer—of the King of France, as we shall hear afterwards;—Sire Amy de Savoy, a count of great renown,—came in his company, and Otho de Grauntsoun.—The latter came with his companions from Cyprus,—who, when Acres was taken, escaped—by passing the neighbouring sea, without other accidents.—I have told you before what evil and what destruction—were done to holy church wrongfully and without reason;—and you have often heard in the holy sermons—that God is just in all his dealings:—Now hear of Dunbar, where without evasions—the enemies of God are caught in a fold like sheep.
On the first Monday in the month of May,—at Berwick-upon-Tweed the king heard say,—how the foolish rascals, who had burnt—Hexham and Lanercost, nor spared the monasteries,—had taken Dunbar, the castle by the sea,—where the Earl Patrick kept his wife.—The King Sir Edward forthwith caused to be sent there—the Earl of Warenne with all his power,—the Earl of Warwick and Hugh le Despenser,—barons and vavasours, knights, squires;—Southerns and Northerns went there right courageously;—they take there footmen enough for their need,—and come to Dunbar to besiege the castle.—They prepared for the attack, and would not delay.—The foolish felons within hoped to have aid;—they plotted together how to trick the English.—Sir Richard Syward, who used to dwell—with our King Edward, at robe and pay,—they send deceitfully to treat with our English;—so he comes to them, and says, that very willingly—he will cause the castle to be delivered to them, if they will grant—three days’ respite, that they may consult—the King Baliol, and tell him their condition.—And if he at that time do not come to raise the siege,—they will deliver the castle without further delay.—Forthwith he gives hostages, and causes to be announced—to the host of Scotland in the same manner,—as you will hear after, he caused it to be recorded.
The messenger goes, and soon came to—King John and to the host which was with him,—he said to them as Siward had instructed him:—“Sir King, your barons remain in hard strait—in the castle of Dunbar, in danger of being driven out.—For when King Edward knew of their being there,—he caused part of his host to be sent thither.—The Englishman, when he came there, besieged the castle.—Sir Richard Siward, who knew them all,—issued from the castle, and talked them over so well,—that the English gave him a truce for three days.—Wherefore the company, who were there on your part,—commanded me to go to you as to their lord,—and to say truly, that the man neither sits nor goes,—who can hinder your coming, unless by some deceit,—within the term of truce which the English has granted us.—To-morrow at the hour when people eat and drink,—go hence hastily straight there;—ours in the castle will watch for you;—they will issue upon the English who do not expect their coming,—entrap them between you and hold them so tight,—that they shall no more come in the field to do annoyance to yours.—You have no other way that will avail you.—Now arm, and let us go, and may no soul survive—who shall have any mercy on our enemies when they are taken!—Strike with the sword—Northumberland—will be yours by right;—All England—by this war—you will that it be lost:—Never did Albania—by stroke of the sword—do so great an exploit.”—On the green—that keen generation—gathered like goats;—I reckon—on some it is seen,—where the bit bit.
At the saying of the messenger the rout of vagabonds—begin to arrange themselves in order of battle.—Sir Richard Siward, who gave this counsel,—comes to the English, and says, “God help me!—I see people coming in very great apparel,—as though they would give battle, without number of footmen.—I go, if you think well, to hinder them,—that they may not come nearer.”—Our people say, “Do not trouble yourself!”—And they take Siward, that he may proceed no further;—they place guards at the gate and at the wall;—Humphrey de Bohun the younger is keeper of the guard,—to hinder aid from the castle from attacking their rear;—and they mount their steeds, and spur to the hill;—he who can run fastest springs before the others.—The Scot sees them come, and turns his tail like a quail,—he flies away as straw does before the wind.—The English pursue them like a sheep—when it flies at the sight of the wolf issuing from the wood.—The proud Scot imagines that he is as good as—the Duke Sir Corineus, who conquered Cornwall.—Of so many men at arms I marvel very much—that there is not one of them all worth a farthing in action,—except Patrick de Graham, who remains and strikes—with the burnished sword, but he is slain without fail.—Ten thousand and fifty-four are slain in the engagement;—they are all Scots, I have the number by reckoning.—These were the caitiffs who butchered the cattle—in Northumberland, and left the entrails to the dogs.—They were excommunicated by book and candle,—because neither holy church nor priest or clergy—they spared no more than bake-house or barn.—Sin has driven them to such a hap—that they have lost in the field the head with the ears.—The foot-people—put the Scots in the poke,—and made bare their backsides:—By way—heard I never tell—of readier pages,—to pick—the robes off the men,—who in the field fell.—They took of each man;—the rough ragged devil—tear them in hell!