Robert the Bruce and the Spider: The Seventh Try

In an old Scottish legend, a king lay in hiding, ready to give up his crown. Above his bed, a spider was trying to cross the ceiling.

Robert Bruce was a fugitive. His wife had been captured; a brother was dead. He had begun to think of dismissing his followers and never returning home.

A thread hung from one roof beam. At its end, the spider swung toward the next. It reached, missed, and swung back into the empty space.

It climbed and tried again. Another miss. Bruce watched. For a little while, he was thinking about a creature smaller than his thumbnail.

The spider tried a third time. A fourth. A fifth. A sixth. Each time, it fell short. The king began counting his own defeats alongside it.

Six failures. The same as him. Bruce made a bargain with himself: if the spider reached the beam on its next attempt, he would return to Scotland.

If it missed, he would abandon that plan. He lay still and watched the thread. The spider did not know that a king had put his future on its back.

The spider gathered itself at the end of the thread. Then it swung toward the beam once more. Bruce watched its legs reach for the rough edge.

One leg caught. Then another. The spider pulled itself onto the beam and fastened its thread. The line held.

Bruce lowered his feet to the floor. He sat there a moment, looking at the thread. Then he reached for his cloak.

He buckled on his sword and opened the door. He would gather his followers and return. Beyond the doorway, no one could promise him a victory. He stepped outside.

Above the empty bed, a thin line stretched between the beams. The spider was beginning the rest of its web.