He knew with every fiber of his being that this was the chance Bruce had to defeat the English and end the war. So he swallowed his pride—knowing he would have to do so many times before the night was over—removed the surcoat that identified him as a knight, and told himself that even if he felt like a dog slinking back with its tail between its legs, he would do whatever it took. In this case, the ends definitely justified the means.
