They had arrived on the banks of the Wear; and this time the Scots were perceived, encamped on the summit of a hill. They were drawn up in battle array, but they did not stir. Edward despatched a herald to them, with a proposal that they should cross the river, in order that the combat might take place upon the open plain. "I have not come here for the king's pleasure," said Douglas, "and I will not leave my post for love of him. If he is not satisfied, let him cross the water and drive us before him." The undertaking was too perilous, and the two armies remained in their respective positions for two days. On the third night, the Scots raised their camp, and were soon afterwards perceived to have taken up a still stronger position, upon another hill. The King of England broke up his camp likewise, and followed them. For eighteen days the two armies had watched each other without result, not a blow being struck; the English troops were sleeping in their tents, when a loud cry was heard amid the silence: "Douglas! Douglas! Death to the English robbers!" The terrified soldiers rose in confusion, and in a half-sleeping condition, and groped about in the dark for their weapons. Meanwhile sounds of strife were heard, and suddenly the ropes supporting the royal tent were cut, and by the side of the couch whereon the young king was sleeping, Black Douglas, the most valiant knight in Scotland, appeared like a threatening phantom. The chamberlain and chaplain of the young king sprang forward to protect their master. The youth had hidden himself within the folds of the tent. Douglas, however, did not pursue his adventure further; sounding the horn, he recalled the three hundred men who had followed him. "What have you done?" asked Randolph, when the Scots had regained their intrenchments. "We have shed a little blood, my lord, that is all," said Douglas. "We should have crossed over with the whole of our army," insisted his friend; "our provisions are exhausted." {288} On the following night, the Scots disappeared in silence, carrying with them a rich booty, while King Edward, incensed and humiliated, again marched towards York, whither his affianced bride, Philippa of Hainault, was being conducted by John of Hainault. The marriage was celebrated on St. Paul's day, 1328. The king was sixteen years of age, while the queen was one year younger. Peace had just been concluded with Scotland; the independence of that kingdom had thereby been acknowledged; the crown jewels, which had been seized by Edward I., had been restored, and the little Princess Joan, who was betrothed to David, the young son of Robert Bruce, had been taken to Berwick and given up to the Scots. It seemed as though the deliverer of Scotland had waited for this great triumph before going to his last rest. He died in the following year, the fifty-fifth of his age, leaving wise counsels to his countrymen; and to his faithful friend, the good lord James Douglas, the task of carrying his