During all this time, the work of destruction had been going on in all parts of the city. Bruce was well aware that the great evil he had to cure could only be overcome by extreme measures, and the better feelings of his nature had for a time given place to the thirst for vengeance for the many wrongs he had suffered from the tyrants, who had not only ruined the country, but stained his domestic hearth with the cruelties of persecution. He gave orders, on entering the city, that every Soot that had favoured Edward should die; and his command was but too literally obeyed--thousands on that night felt, in the pangs of death, the effects of his dreadful retaliation. When the day dawned, he collected his captains in the court hall of the city, for the purpose of issuing ordinances of confiscation, settling the terms on which the city should in future be held, and passing sentence on the governor, who had been taken alive, and stood in the hall bound in chains. Bruce sat in the chair of office, his captains were ranged around him, and by his left side sat two of the French squires already spoken of, who had trusted to the events of that siege for getting the leave of the bravest knights of these times to remove the bandages from their left eyes, and be declared entitled to the rights and honours of chivalry. The scene presented one of the most extraordinary aspects of these times of war and bloodshed. Bruce himself had fought hand to hand with the officers of the garrison, and slain every one who dared to withstand his terrible onset. His face and hands were covered with blood; his bright armour was stained; and the sword which he still held in his hand bore evidence to the work of deadly execution it had done against Scotland's foes. Sir James Douglas, Randolph, and others of the fiercest of his captains, bore the same grim aspect; and the French squires exhibited by their gore-stained shields that they merited the reward for which they looked, from the honour-dispensing sword of the king.