It was the turning point in the battle. Bruce saw this and now flung his own division into the fray on the left of Douglas and the Steward. In earlier days Bruce had told Angus Og of Clan Donald "My hope is incessant in thee." and these words the MacDonalds chose to keep forever as their clan's motto. At Bannockburn he simply said, "Be cheerful and act valiantly." The MacDonalds and other Highlanders and the men from Bruce's own lands did both, cheerfully and valiantly rushing upon their foes, clambering over the slain horses and men and adding to the carnage with their spears, battleaxes and daggers. The Scots line newly strengthened pressed on and on, each step forward adding to the constriction of their enemy's power. At some point Edward's lieutenants realised the battle was lost and Sir Giles Argentine took his royal master's bridle and led him from the field. A large body of knights gathered round Edward and escorted him to Stirling castle. When Edward was safe, Sir Giles turned to the English king and said, "Sire.... I am not accustomed to flee and I will continue no further. I bid you adieu." He then turned his horse around and returned to the battle where he was slain. He had once been called 'the bravest knight in all Christendom' and the manner of his passing should serve to remind us that courage is never the monopoly of the victors, however much later generations might wish it so. Most of the English army saw Edward's standard leaving the field and saw no reason to stay themselves. The foot turned and ran, crossing the Bannock Burn and the Forth any way they could in their desire to flee. The 'small folk', the last reserve of the Scots, sensed the day was Bruce's and came pouring down from Coxtet Hill and their coming may have made the English think another Scottish army had arrived. With the foot fleeing behind them the English knights thought they finally had some space to withdraw and reconstitute the charge. It was a vain hope for as they pulled back the schilltrons felt the pressure on their front wane and exultantly called out,"On them. On them. They fail!" Later men talked of walking over the Bannock burn and other streams and keeping their feet dry, so thick did the English dead lie in the water.
Edward's army was completely destroyed. Some knights were taken captive and held for ransom, but the common soldiery were hunted down like wild dogs and slain by a populace bereft of pity after a generation of English depredations. It was a stunning victory, astonishing, against all odds and terribly complete. The day was won and though the war would continue, the initiative now lay with the Scots. The taste of victory was sweet indeed and perhaps for the first time the Bruce knew, rather than hoped, that the kingdom was his. The joy of his and his army's success ran through Scotland, for on that day we became a nation of free men and I would wager their are few Scotsmen today who have never, at some time in their dreams, stood with the Bruce on the Carse and gone forward with him to claw from the grasping hands of history a triumph that was surely his and his nation's due.

Declaration of Arbroath 1320

Edward II of England
After fleeing the field and with the bitter taste of Sir Giles Argentine's farewell in his mouth, Edward reached Stirling castle. Mowbray denied him entrance, and rightly so, for the rules of the game clearly precluded such a thing. Edward turned his horse around and with his knights by his side rode for Dunbar. He shook off the pursuit of the fiery James Douglas and the handful of Scots horsemen who had ridden after the English king determined to see him captive or slain. At Dunbar he took ship for the south and the faithful knights who had protected him in his flight were left to find their own way home through hostile countryside. His stock had never been high in his own land and the lack of great lords who had accompanied him to the fight should have told him his future prospects were dim. Yet he was obdurate in defeat and the war continued. In later years, after the shock of Bannockburn had worn off, he came north on abortive attempts to retake Berwick from the victorious Scots. He failed in that task and no major battles were fought, the Scots preferring to launch diversionary raids into the north of England. For many years the northern counties of Northumberland, Cumbria and even Yorkshire were wasted and burned with great regularity.
In time, a vindictive wife and her lover had Edward deposed and then forced to abdicate in favour of his infant son, the future Edward III. The ex-king was shunted from dungeon to dungeon across England and whatever his faults only the hardest of hearts could fail to feel pity for him in the squalid dishonour of his last few years. His life ended in 1327, in that most intimate of regicides when a red-hot poker was forced up his anus murdering him, no doubt painfully, without leaving a mark of violence. When he reached heaven or hell or purgatory or whatever part of the afterlife the Plantagenets were consigned to after their sojourns in this world, I warrant the fire in his arse was nought compared to the burning of his ears that his father subjected him to.

As most commanders do, Bruce addressed his men before the battle. He referred to their warrior struggles of the past twenty years. He told them of the fate that awaited them and unborn generations if they should fail. He urged them to slay the tyrant English and pull down their pride. He offered his men an escape. Any man who chose to go home and not stand with the army was free to do so, but in the Bruce's mind only traitor knaves, would-be slaves and cowards would take that course. Many commanders have given their troops the opportunity to leave, knowing that in front of your comrades the courage required to shame yourself and flee is greater than that needed to stay and fight. Below are the words the Bruce was said to have spoken. They were in fact penned almost five centuries later by Scotland's greatest ever poet, Robert Burns.
Still, imagine the field. Imagine the moment. Imagine standing there, the hot sun shining on your steel cap and the sweat matting your hair. Imagine the sight of 20,000 armed enemies with all their banners, trumpets and awful power barely a mile away. Imagine the king who had shared your trials, seen your joy, witnessed your pain and shed his blood with yours in countless engagements over the past few years. Imagine him mounted, belted, buckled and helmed, his head drooped as he searched for the words he must find. Imagine the head coming up, the eyes bright and sparkling, the throat swelling, the tongue and lips moving and in a great voice he speaks.....