women shrieking, old men
lamenting, amid the groans of the dying and the despair of the living.

But the English got the victory.

Then the chief of the men of Lothian fell, pierced by an arrow, and all
his followers were put to flight. For the Almighty was offended at them
and their strength was rent like a cobweb.

Offended at them for what? For committing those fearful butcheries? No,
for that was the common custom on both sides, and not open to criticism.
Then was it for doing the butcheries "under cover of religion"? No, that
was not it; religious feeling was often expressed in that fervent way
all through those old centuries. The truth is, He was not offended at
"them" at all; He was only offended at their king, who had been false to
an oath. Then why did not He put the punishment upon the king instead
of upon "them"? It is a difficult question. One can see by the Chronicle
that the "judgments" fell rather customarily upon the wrong person, but
Henry of Huntington does not explain why. Here is one that went true;
the chronicler's satisfaction in it is not hidden:

In the month of August, Providence displayed its justice in a remarkable
manner; for two of the nobles who had converted monasteries into
fortifications, expelling the monks, their sin being the same, met with
a similar punishment. Robert Marmion was one, Godfrey de Mandeville the
other. Robert Marmion, issuing forth against the enemy, was slain under
the walls of the monastery, being the only one who fell, though he was
surrounded by his troops. Dying excommunicated, he became subject to
death everlasting. In like manner Earl Godfrey was singled out among
his followers, and shot with an arrow by a common foot-soldier. He
made light of the wound, but he died of it in a few days, under
excommunication. See here the like judgment of God, memorable through
all ages!

The exaltation jars upon me; not because of the death of the men, for
they deserved that, but because it is death eternal, in white-hot fire
and flame. It makes my flesh crawl. I have not known more than three
men, or perhaps four, in my whole lifetime, whom I would rejoice to see
writhing in those fires for even a year, let alone forever. I believe
I would relent before the year was up, and get them out if I could.
I think that in the long run, if a man's wife and babies, who had not
harmed me, should come crying and pleading, I couldn't stand it; I
know I should forgive him and let him g