away without further speech.

They narrate that next day the troops marched for Durham, where the
Queen took up her quarters. The Bruce had pillaged and burned his way
to a place called Beaurepair, within three miles of the city. He sent
word to the Queen that if her men were willing to come forth from the
town he would abide and give them battle.

She replied that she accepted his offer, and that the barons would
gladly risk their lives for the realm of their lord the King. The
Bruce grinned and kept silence, since he had in his pocket letters from
nine-tenths of them protesting they would do nothing of the sort.

There is comedy here. On one side you have a horde of half-naked
savages, a shrewd master holding them in leash till the moment be
auspicious; on the other, a housewife at the head of a tiny force
lieutenanted by perjurers, by men already purchased. God knows the
dreams she had of miraculous victories, what time her barons trafficked
in secret with the Bruce. On the Saturday before Michaelmas, when the
opposing armies marshalled in the Bishop's Park, at Auckland, it is
recorded that not a captain on either side believed the day to be
pregnant with battle. There would be a decent counterfeit of
resistance; afterward the little English army would vanish pell-mell,
and the Bruce would be master of the island. The farce was
prearranged, the actors therein were letter-perfect.

That morning at daybreak John Copeland came to the Queen's tent, and
informed her quite explicitly how matters stood. He had been drinking
overnight with Adam Frere and the Earl of Gage, and after the third
bottle had found them candid. "Madame and Queen, we are betrayed. The
Marquess of Hastings, our commander, is inexplicably smitten with a
fever. He will not fight to-day. Not one of your lords will fight
to-day." Master Copeland laid bare such part of the scheme as
yesterday's conviviality had made familiar. "Therefore I counsel
retreat. Let the King be summoned out of France."

But Queen Philippa shook her head, as she cut up squares of toast and
dipped them in milk for the Regent's breakfast. "Sire Edward would be
vexed. He has always intended to conquer France. I shall visit the
Marquess as soon as Lionel is fed--do you know, John Copeland, I am
anxious about Lionel; he is irritable and coughed five times during the
night--and then I will attend to this affair."

She found the Marquess in bed, groaning, the co