^^W^" /3m ^ ^ *--# / #fSF % \4. <*\ ilk. ,, The SCOTTISH CHIEFS, A ROMANCE. Five Volumes in Two BY MISS JANE PORTER, Author of Thaddeus of Warsaw, And Remarks on Sidney's Aphorisms. there comes a voice that awakes my soul. It is the voice of years that are gone; they roll before me with all their deeds. Ossian (From fee London edition of 1810) VOL. ir. Printed July 1810 f t. THE 1^ I \ SCOTTISH CHIEFS, A ROMANCE. \. FIVE VOLUMES IN TWO. BY MISS JANE PORTER, AUTHOR OF TIIADDEUS OF WARSAW, AND RE3IARKS 0\ SIDNEY'S APH0RIS3IS. / I'here comes a voice that a-nakcs ww soul. It is the voice / J^'^ that are gone ; they roll before me with all tlieir deeds. ^ ^ ^ '' {From the London edition of 1810/ VOL. II. NEW-Y<)idi: PUBLISHED BY D. LONGWORTF -^T THE SHAXSPEARE GALLERY. t And for sale by D. Longworth, E. SS-igeant, M. & W. Ward, & D. 1). Anien, Ne^v- York; John West 8c Co. O. C/iS^ret-uleaf, Monroe, Francis aiul Parker, Joseph Greenleaf, Edward Cotton, yv Wells, West & Blake, and I. Tliornai, jun. iii.s- ton ; Edwai-d Little & Co. VLwburyp(jrt ; Charles Mctcalf, Batli ; Chiirles Tuii- .f^. pan, Portsmouth ; Williare Hilliard, Cambridge; dishing &. Apjdetoii, Salem ; P^ Hem-y Cushing, ProvideAce ; L. Rousnianiere, Wanton & Rathlionc, >;«wport ; ft Peter B. Gleason, Ha> THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 5 he wcuM have rather drawn him away, than have stop- ped to ask questions.* " And did you know the Lady Marion, venerable old man ?" inquired Wallace, in a voice so descriptive of what was passing in his heart, that the man turned to- wards him ; and struck with his noble mien, he pulled off his bonnet, and bowing, answered: " Did I know her? She was nursed on these knees. And my wife, who cherished her sweet infancy, is now within that brae. This is our only home now ; for the Southrons burnt us out of Lammington-castlc, where our young- lady left us to be her stewards when she went to Ayr to be married to the brave young lord with whom I have so often clambered these hills. He was as handsome a youth as ever the sun shone upon ; and he loved my lady from a boy. I never shall forget the day when she stood on the top of that rock, and let a garland which he had just made for her, fall into the Clyde. With- out more ado, never caring because it is the deepest here of any part of the river, he jumps in after it ; and I after him. And well I did, for when I caught him by his bonnie g'nvden locks, he was insensible. His head had struck against a stone in the plunge, and a great cut was over his forehead. God bless him, a sorry scar it made ! but many, I warrant, he has beside ; though I have never seen him since he was a man. Gregory, the honest steward of Lammington, was soon recognised in this old man's relation : But time and hardship had so altered his appearance, that Wal- lace could not have recollected the ruddy age and ac- tive figCire of his well-remembered companion, in the shaking limbs and pallid visage of the hoary speaker. When the venerable narrator had ended, the chief threw himself off his horse. He approached the old man : with one hand he took off his helmet, and with the other putting back the same golden locks, he said, " Was the scar you speak of any thing like this ?" His face was now close to the eye of Gregory who, immedi- ately, in the action, the words, and the mark, recogni- sing the young play-mate of his happiest days, with aii exclamation of joy, threw himself on his neck and wept ; then looking up, with the tears rolling over his cheeks^ a2 G THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. he exclaimed, '^ O Power of Mercy, take me now to thyself, since my eyes have seen the deliverer of Scot- land?" " Not so, my venerable friend ;" returned Wallace, *' you must yet make these desolated regions bloom a- new. Decorate them, old man, as you would do the tomb of your mistress, with every produce of the year. I give them to you and yours. Marion and I have no posterity! Let her foster-brother, if he still live, as he drew the same milk with her, let him be ever after considered as the laird of Lamming-ton." " He does live," replied the old man, " but the shadow of what he was. In attemptins^, with a few- resolute lads, to defend these domains from the ma- rauders, he was severally wounded. His companions were all slain, and we found him on the other side of my lady's summer-house, left for dead. His mother, and his young wife and babes, fled with him to the woods, and there remained till all about here was laid in ashes. Finding the cruel Southrons had made a general waste; yet fearful of fresh incursions, should any survivors appear above ground, we, and several of the adjacejit villagers who had been driven from their homes, dug us these subterraneous dwellings ;^^) and ever since have lived like fairies in the green-hill side. ?My son and his family are now in our cavern, much re- duced by sickness and want ; for famine is here. Alas, the Southrons in conquering Scotland have not gained a kingdom, but made a desert !" " And we must make it smile again !" returned Wallace, " I go to reap the harvests of Northumber- land. What our enemies have torn hence, in part they shall refund : a few days and your granaries shall over- flow. Meanwhile, I will leave with you my friend ;" said he, turning to Murray ; " at the head of five hun- dred men, he shall to-morrow morning commence the reduction of every English fortress that yet stains with its shadov/ the waves of our native Clyde ; for, when the sun next rises, the Southrons will have passed the Scottish borders, and I shall again have blown th». trumpet of war. He will deliver you food from th» stores of our enemiQS j and when I return, I shall ex THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 7 pect to see the respected steward of Lamniington again within its walls ; in the midst of its tenantry (which Lord Andrew Murray will gather from the ad- joining counties) dispensing those comforts from that now solitary tower, which must ever flow from it as the true memorial of my Marion's name and virtues I" Gregory, seeing that his lord was going to depart, fell at his feet, and begged that he might be allowed to bring his Annie to see the husband of her once dear child. " No ; not now," replied Wallace, " I could not bear the interview — she shall see me when I return." He then drew near to Murray, who cheerfully ac- quiesced in his commission, as it promised him not only the glory of being a conqueror, but would afford him the satisfaction he hoped of driving the Southron gar- rison out of his own paternal castle. To send such news to his noble father at Stirling, would indeed be a wreath of honour to his aged, but yet warlike brow. It was arranged between the young chief, and his com- mander, that watching towers should be thrown up on every conspicuous eminence throughout the country, from the heights of Clydesdale to those which skirted the Scottish borders. From these, concerted signals of victories, or certain sorts of information, were to be severally interchanged. The sound of the Regent's bugle brought Ker and Sir John Graham to his side. The appointed number of men were left with Murray ; and Wallace joining his other chieftains, bade his friend and honest servant adieu I He now awakened to a sense of the present scene, and saw his legions traverse hill and dale till they en- tered on the once luxuriant banks of the Annan. This territory of some of the proudest lords of Scotland, lay in more terrific ruin than even the tracts he had left. There, reigned the silence of the tomb, here ex- isted the expiring agonies of men left to perish. More recent marks of devastation smoked from the blood- stained earth ; and in the midst of some barren waste, a few houseless wretches would rush forward at the -sight of the Regent, throw themselves before his horse, and beg for food for their famishing selves and s THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS, dying infants. " Look ;" cried an almost frantic mother holding up the living skeleton of a child, which hardly seemed to breathe, "my husband is slain by the South- rons who hold Lochmaben-castle ; my subsistence is carried away, and myself turned out to bring forth this child on the pitiless rocks. I have fed there till this hour on the berries ; but I die, and my child expires before me 1" " Here are our young ones," cried an- ther woman with shrieks of despair, " exposed to equal miseries. Give us bread, Regent of Scotland, or we perish 1" " Fast for a day, my brave friends," cried Wallace, turning animatedly towards his troops, " lay all the provision you have brought Avith you, before these hap- less people. To-morrow you shall feast largely on Southron tables." Wallace was instantly obeyed. As his men march- ed on they threw their loaded wallets amongst the famishing groups; and followed by their blessings, de- scended with augmented speed the ravaged hills of Annandale. The grey dawn was tinging the dark head of Brunswark, as they advanced towards the Scottish boundary. At a distance, like a wreath of white va- pours, lay the English camp along the southern bank of the Esk. Wallace at this sight ordered his bugles to sound ; and they were immediately answered by those of the opposite host. The heralds of both armies advanced; and the sun rising from behind the eastern screen of hills, shone full upon the legions of Scot- land now winding down the romantic precipices of Wauchope. Less than two hours arranged every preliminary re- quisite to the exchange of prisoners ; and when the clarion of the trumpet announced that each party were to pass over the river to the side of its respective country. Wallace stood in the midst of his chieftains J to receive the last adieus of his illustrious captives./ When de Warenne approached, the Regent took offj his helmet. The Southron had already his in his hant " Farewell, gallant Scot:" said he, " if ought could im, bitter this moinent of recovered freedom, it is, that leave a man I so revere, still confident in a finallj hopeless cause!'* THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 9 *^' It would not be the less just, were it indeed des- perate," replied Wallace, " but had not heaven shewn on which side it fought, I should not have had the hon- our of thus bidding the brave Earl dc Warenne fare- well." De Warenne passed on ; and the other lords, with grateful and respectful looks, paid their obeisance. The litter of Montgomery drew near : the curtains were thrown open : Wallace stretched out his hand to him ; '^ The prayers of sainted innocence are for ever thine 1" " Never more shall her angel spirit behold me here, as you now behold me," returned Montgomery : " I must be a traitor to virtue before I ever again bear arms against Sir William Wallace." Wallace pressed his hand, and they parted. The escort which guarded De Valence advanced ; and the proud Earl seeing where his enemy stood, took off* his gauntlet, and throwing it fiercely towards him, exclaimed, " Carry that to your minion Ruthven, and tell him, that the hand which wore it will yet be most tremendously revenged 1" As the Southron ranks filed off towards Carlisle, those of the returning Scottish prisoners approached their deliverer. Now it was that the full clangor of joy burst from every breast and triumph-breathing in- strument in the Scottish legions; now it was that the echoes rang with loud huzzas of "Long live the valiant Wallace, who brings our nobles out of captivity I Long- live our matchless Regent 1" As these shouts rent the air, the Lords Badenoch and Athol drew near. The princely head of the for- mer bent with proud acknov/iedgment to the mild dip^- nity of Wallace. Badenoch's penetrating eye in a moment saw that it was indeed the patriotic guardian of his country, to whom he bowed, and not the \ain uff'ecter of regal power. At his approach, Waiiuce '^lighted from his horse, and received his offered hand .nd thanks with every grace inherent in his noble na- ture ; " I am happy," returned he, " to have been the instrument of recalling t© his country one of the princes of the royal blood," ' <• And while one drop of 10 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. it exists in Scotland," replied Badenoch, " its posses- sor must acknowledge the bravest of our defenders in Sir William Wallace." Athol next advanced ; but his gloomy countenance contradicted his words, when he attempted to utter a similar sense of obligation. Sir John Monteith was eloquent in his thanks. And Sir William Maitland, the only surviving son of the knight of Thirlestane, was not less sincere in his professions of gratitude, than Wallace was in his pleasure at having given liber- ty to so near a relation of Helen Mar. The rest of the captive Scots, to the number of several hundreds, were ready to kiss the feet of the man who restored them to their honours, their country, and their friends : and Wallace bowed his happy head under a shower of blessings, which poured on him from a thousand grate- ful hearts. In pity to the wearied travellers, he ordered tents to be pitched ; dispatching a detachment of men to the top of Langholm hill, to send forth a smoke,(<^) in token to the Clydesdale watch, of the armistice being at an end. He had hardly seen them ascend the mountain, when Graham arrived from reconnoitring ; and told him, that an English army of great strength had form- ed behind his camp, and where now wheeling round by the foot of the hills to take the reposing Scots by sur- prise. " They shall find us ready to receive them," was the prompt reply of Wallace : And his actions were ever the companions of his words. Leaving his harassed friends vmder a sufficient guard to rest on the banks of the Esk, he put himself at the head of 5000 men, and sending a thousand more with Sir John Graham to pass over the Cheviots and attack the Southrons in flank when he should give the signal, he marched swiftly forward ; and fell in with some advanced squadrons of the enemy amongst the recesses of those hills. Little expecting such a rencontre, they were marching in defiles upon the ridgy craigs, taking every precaution to avoid the swamps v/hich occupied the broader way. At sight of the Scots, Lord Percy, who commanded the Southron army, ordered a party of archers who THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. Ih were clambering round by the projecting cliffs, to dis- charge their arrows. The artillery of war being thus opened afresh, Wallace drew his bright sword, and waving it before him like a meteor of night, called aloud to his followers ; his inspiring voice echoed from hill to hill, and the higher detachments of the Scots pouring down upon the unprepared archers with the resistless impetuosity of their own mountain streams, precipitated their enemies into the valley ; while Wal- lace with his pikemen charging the horse in those slippery paths, drove the terrified animals into the morasses, where some sunk at once, and others plung- ing, threw their riders to perish in the swamp. Lord Percy, desperate at the confusion which now ensued, as his archers fell headlong from the rocks, and his cavalry lay drowning before him, called up his infantry: — They appeared ; but though ten thousand strong, the determined Scots met their first ranks breast to breast, and soon levelling them with their companions, rushed on the rest with the force of a thunder-storm. It was at this period that the signal was given from the horn of Wallace ; and the division of Graham meeting the retreating Southrons as they attempted to fall back behind the hill, completed their defeat. The slaughter became dreadful, the victory decisive. Sir Ralph Latimer, the second in command, "was killed in the first onset ; and Lord Percy himself, after fighting like a lion, and being covered with wounds, sought safety in flight. CHAP. II. 1 HIS being the season of harvest in the northern counties of England, Wallace carried his reapers, not to lay their sickles to the field, but with their swords to open themselves away into the Southron granaries. Wallace, meanwhile, provided for the wants of his friends on the other side of the Esk. The plunder of Percy's camp was dispatched to them; which being abundant in all kiuds of provisions, was sufUcient to 12 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. keep them in ample store till they could reach Stirring. From that point, tliey had promised their Regent, they would disperse to their separate estates, collect recruits, and reduce the distracted state of the country into some composed order. Wallace had disclosed his wish, and mode of effecting this renovation of public happi- ness, before he left Stirling It contained a plan of military organization, by which each youth, able to bear arms, should not only be instructed in the dexter- ous use of the weapons of war, but in the duties of sub- ordination ; and, above all, in the nature of those rights for which he was now contending. " They only require being thoroughly known, to be regarded as inestimable," added he : " But while we raise around us the best bulwark of any nation, a brave and well-disciplined people, while we teach them to defend their liberties, let us see that they deserve them. Let them be men contending for virtuous in- dependence, not savages fighting for licentious free- dom. We must have our youth of both sexes, in towns and villages, from the castle to the cot, taught the sub- lime truths of Christianity. From that root will branch all that is needful to make them useful members of the state, virtuous and happy. — And while war is in our hands, let us in all things prepare for peace ; that the sword may gently bend into the sickle, the dagger to the pruning-hook." There was an expansive providence in all this, a con- centrating plan of public weal, which few of the nobles had ever even glanced at, as a design conceivable for Scotland. " Ah 1 my lords," replied he to their warlike objec- tions, " deceive not yourselves with the belief, that by the mere force of arms a nation can render itself great and secure. Industry, temperance, and discipline, amongst the people, with moderation and justice in the higher orders, are the only aliments of independence. They bring you riches and power; they make it the interest of those who might have been your enemies, to court youi" friendship." The council at Stirling had received his plan with enthusiasm. And when, on the day of his parting with THE SCOTTISH CHlErS. 13 the relearjcd cliicftains on the banks of the Ebk, he, with all the generous modesty of his nature, rather submitted his design to them as if to obtain the appro- bation of friends, than to enforce it with the authority of a Regent; when they saw him thus coming down from the dictatorship to wliich his unrivalled talents had raised him, to equal himself still with them, all were struck with admiration ; and Lord Badenoch could not but say to himself — " The royal qualities of this man can well afford this expense of humility. Bend as he will, he has only to speak, to shew his superiority over all, and to be a king again.'* There was a power in the unostentatious virtues oi Wallace, which, declaring themselves rather in their effects, than by display, subdued the princely spirit of Badenoch even to his smile ; and while the proud chief- tain recollected how he had contemned the pretensions of Bruce, and could not brook the elevation of B^iliolj how his soul was in arms, when, after he had been per- suaded to acknowledge the supremacy of Edward, the throne was given to one of his rivals; he wondered at himself to find that his very heart bowed before the gentle and comprehensive wisdom of an untitled Re- gent. Athol, alone of the group, seemed insensible to the benefits his country was receiving from its resistless protector; but he expressed his dissent from the gene- ral sentiment with no more visible sign than a cold si- lence. When the messenger of Wallace arrived on the banks of the Esk with so large a booty, and the news of his complete victory over the gallant Percy, the ex- ultation of his chieftains amounted to such enthusiasm, that had their Regent been then present, he might again have fv^und his moderation put to the test of re- fusing a crown. On Badenoch opening Wallace's dispatches, he found that they repeated his wish that the nobles would im- ^nediately proceed to the execution of the plan they had sanctioned with their approbation: They were to march directly for Stirling, and in their way dispense the super-abuudance of the plunder amongst the per- VOL. II. B 14 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. ishing inhabitants of the land. He then informed the Earl, that while the guard he had left with him, should escort the liberated Scots beyond the Forth, the rest of his little army south of that river, must be thus dis- posed. Lord Andrew Murray was to remain chief in command in Clydesdale, while Sir Eustace Maxwell should give up the wardship of Douglas to Sir John Monteith, and himself advance into Annandale to assist Sir Roger Kirkpatrick, who must now have began the reduction of the castles in the west of that province. At the close of these directions, Wallace added, that he was now going to sweep the English counties to the Tees mouth ; and that he should send the produce round by his fleets from Berwick, to reple-nish the ex- hausted stores of the Highlands. " Next year," con- tinued he, " I trust they will have ample harvests of their own." And what Wallace said he w^ould do, he did. The country was panic-struck at the defeat of Per- cy ; and his beaten soldiers, flying in all directions be- fore their conqueror's legions, gave such dreadful and hyperbolical accounts of their might, and of the giant prowess of their leader, that as soon as ever the glit- tering of the Scottish spears were seen rising the sum- mit of any hill, or even gleaming at a distance along the horizon, every village was deserted, every solitary cot w^as left \vithout inhabitant ; and corn and cattle, and every kind of property, fell into the hands of the Scots. Lord Percy lay immovable with wounds, in his cas- tle at Alnwick; and his hopeless state, by intimidating his followers, contradicted the orders he gave to ft\cc the marauding enemy. Several times they attempted to obey, but as often shewed their inability ; they col- lected under arms, but the moment their foe appeared, they fled within the castle-wails, or buried themselves in deep obscurities amongst the surrounding hills. Not a sheaf in the fields of Northumberland did the Scots leave to make a cuke for its Earl's breakfast, not a head of cattle to smoke upon his board. The country was sacked from sea to sea. But far different was its appearance from that of the ravaged vallies of Scot- land : There the fire had burnt up the soil ; the hand THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 15 of violence had levelled the husbandman's cottage, Iiad buried his implements in the ruins, had sacrificed himself on its smoking ashes ! There the fatherless l)abe Avept its unavailing wants; and at its side sat the (iistracted widow, wringing her hands in speechless misery ; for there lay her murdered husband, here her perishing child ! With such sights was the heart of Wallace pierced, as he passed through the Lov.huid coumles of his country; nay, as he scoured the Highland districts of the Grampians, even there had he met the foot of bar- barian man and cruel desolation. Fdr thus it was that the Southron garrisons had provisoned thems^elves.— By robbing the poor of their bread ; and when they re- sisted, firing their dwellings, and punishing the refrac- tory with death. But not so the generous enmity of Sir William Wal- lace. His commission was not to destroy, but to save; and though he carried his victorious army to feed on the Southron plains, and sent the iiarvests of England to restore the trampled fields of Scotland, yet lie did no more. No fire blasted his path ; no innocent blood cri- ed against him, from the g;round ! — When the impetu- ous zeal of his soidiers> flushed with victory, and in the heat of vengeance, would have laid several hamlets in ashes, he seized the brand from the ringleader of the destroying party, and throwing it into an adjoining brook ; " Shew yourselves worthy of the advantages yo-u have gained," cried he, " by the moderation with which you use them. Consider yourselves as the soldiers of the All-powerful God, who alone has conducted you to victory ; for, with a few, has he not enabled us to sub- due a host? — Behave as becomes your high destiny; and debase not yourselves by imitating tlie hirelings of ambition, who receive as the wages of their valour, the base privileges to ravage and to murder. " I wish you to distinguish between a spirit of repri- sal in what I do, and that of retaliation, which actuates your present violence. What our enemies have robbed us of, as far as they can restore, 1 take again. Their bread shall feed our famishing country; their wool clothe its nakedness. But blood for blood, unless the /-J 16 THE StK)TTISH CHIEFS. iTiurderer could be made to bleed, is a doctrince ablToi-' rent to God and to liQinanity. What justice is there in destroying the habitations and lives of a set of harmless people, because the like cruelty has been committed by a lawless army of their countrym-en, upon our unoffen- ding brethren ? Your hearts may make the answer. But if they are hardened against the pleadings of humanity, let prudence shew your interest in leaving those men alive, and with their means unimpaired, v/ho will pro- duce other harvests, to again, if need be, fill our scanti- er granaries. " Thus I reason with you, and I hope many are con- vinced: But they who are insei;!siblc to argument, must fear authority ; and I declare that every man who in- flicts injury on the houses, or on the persons of the quiet peasantry of this land, shall be punished as a trai- tor to the state.'* According to the different dispositions of men, tliis reasoning prevailed. And from the end of September, the time when Wallace first entered Northumberland, to the month of November, when, having scoured the counties of England, even to the very gates of York, he returned to Scotland, not an offence was committed, at which his merciful spirit could repiiie. It was on All- Saints day, when he again approached the Esk ; and so great was his spoil, that his return seemed more like some vast caravan, moving the merchandise of half the world, than the march of an army which had so lately passcvl that river, a famishing, though valorous host. The outposts of Carlaverock soon informed Maxwell, its present occupier, that the Lord Regent was in sight. At the joyful intelligence, a double smoke stream-ed from every watch-hill in Annandalc ; and Sir Eustace had hardly appeared on the Solway-bank to meet his triumphant chief, when the eager speed of the rough Lord of Torthoraid, brought him there also. Wallace, as his proud charger plunged into the ford, and the heavy waggons, groaning under their load, creeked af- ter him, was welcomed to the shore by the shouts not only of the soldiers which had followed Maxv/ell and Kirkpatrick, but by the people, who in crowds, of men, women, and children, came in throngs to hail their pre- THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. IT server. The squalid hue of famine had left every face : and each smiling countenance, beaming with health, se- curity, and gratitude, told Wallace, more emphatically than a thousand tongues, tlie wisdom of the means he had used to regenerate his lost country. IVlaxwell had prepared the fortress o-f Lochmaben, once the principal castle of the Bruce's in Annandalc, for the reception of the Regent. And thither Wallace was conducted in prouder triumph than ever followed the chariot wheels of Cscsar. Blessings were the cla- rions that preceded him ; and hosts of people whom he had saved when ready to perish, were the voluntary ac- tors in his pageant. Wlien he arrived in sight of the two capacious lochs, which spread like lucid wings on each side of thi'^^' princely residence, he turned to Graham, " What pi- ty," said he, " that the rightful owner of this truly re- ga:l castle docs not act as becomes his blood ! He might now be entering its gates as a king, and so Scolla.nd the sooner find rest under its lawful monarch." " But he prefers i^eing a parasite in the court of a tyrant;" replied Sir John, " and from such a school^ Scotland would reject a monarch." " But he has a son ;" replied Wallace, " a brave and generous son ; — I am told by Lord ^Montgomery, who knew him in Guienne, that a nobler spirit does not ex- ist. On his brows, my dear Graham, we must one day hope to see the crovvU." " Then only as your heir, my Lord Regent," inter- rupted Maxwell, " for while you live, I can answer for it that no Scot will acknowledge any other ruler." " I will fvrsteat my own sword," cried Kirkpatrick. At this moment, the lofty portcullis of the great gate was raised, and Maxwell falling back to make way for the Regent, Wallace had not time to answer a senti- ment, Avhich indeed was now so familiar to him, by his hearing it from every grateful heart, that he now hardly remarked its tendency, as it made no ambition-springing impression on his well-principled mind. Ever pressing towards establishing the comfort and happiness of liis country, he hastened over the splendid repast that was prepared for him; and dispersing ae B 2 18 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. fast as possible the ceremonials with which the zeal of Maxwell sought to display his rcbpect for the virtues and station of his commander, he retired with Graham to make up dispatches for his n ore distant chieftains ; and to divide and aportion the spoil, to the necessities of the different provinces. In these duties his wakeful eyes were kept open the greatest part of the night. They for wdiom he laboured, slept securely I That thought was rest to him. But they closed not their eyes without praying for the sweet repose of their ben- efactor. And he found it ; not in sleep, but Iq that peace of heart which the world cannot give. CHAP. III. JL)AY after day succeeded each other in the execrtioii of his beneficial designs. — The royal halls of Lochma- ben did not long detain him, who knew no rest but when he was going about doing good. — While he was thus employed, raising, with the quickness of magic, by the rmany-working hands of his soldiers, the lately ruined hamlets, into well-built villages ; while the grey smoke curled from a thousand russet cottages which now -spotted the sides of the snow-clad hills ; v/hiie all the Lowlands, whithersoever Wallace directed his steps, breathed of comfort atid abundance; he felt like the father of a large family in the midst of a happy and vast home, where every eye turned on him with reverence, every lip with gratitude. He had hardly gone the circuit of these now cheer- ful valleys, when an embassy from England, which had first touched at Lochmaben, overtook him at the tovv'er of Larwnington. The embassadors were Robert Lord De Lisle, the brother of Earl De Warenne, and An.- thony Beck, Bishop of Durham. At the moment their splendid cavalcade, escorted by a party from Sir Eustace Maxwell, entered the gate of Lam.mington, Wallace was in the hourly expectation of Edwin, for whom he had sent ; and hearing the trampling of horses, lie hastened fortl> into the courr- THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS, 19 yard, attended by a group of Gregory's grand-children. One was in his arms, two others held by the corners of his plaid, and a third rode before him on the sword which he had unbuckled from his side. It was a clear frosty day ; and the keenness of the air brightened the complexion of Wallace, and deepened the roses of his infant companions. The leader of the Scottish escort immediately proclaimed to the embassadors that this was the Regent. At sight of so uncourtly a scene, the haughty prelate of Durham drew back. " This man will not understand his own interest 1" said he in a disdainful whisper to Delisle. " I am inclined to think that his estimation of it will be rather beyond ours." As Lord De Lisle made this reply, the officer of Maxwell informed Wallace who were the illustrious strangers. At the mention of a Southron, the elder children ran screaming into the house ; leaving the youngest, who continued nestling Jier face into the breast of Wallace, as the bishop drew liear. " We come. Sir Willam Wallace," said the prelate, in a tone whose lordly sound was somewhat lowered when his eye was surprised by the god-like dignity ■which shone over the countenance of the man whose domestic appearance had at first excited his contempt; •*' we come from the King of England with a message for your private ear." — " And I hope, gallant chief- tain," joined Lord De Lisle, " that Avhat we have to impart will give peace to both nations ; and establish in honour the most generous as well as the bravest of men?" Wallace bowed to the compliment of De Lisle, (whom he knew, by his title, must be the brother of De Warenne ;) and resigning the child into the arms of his friend Graham, with a graceful welcome he conducted the Southron lords into the grand hall. De Lisle, looking round, said, " Are we alone. Sir William ?" " Perfectly ;" he replied, " and I am ready to receive any proposals of peace which the rights of Scotland will allow me to accept." De Lisle drew from his bosom a gold casket, and 2G THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. laying it on a table before him, he addressed the Regent. " Sir WiUiam Wallace, I come to you not with the de- nunciations of an implacable liege lord, whom a rash vas- sal has offended ; but in the grace of the most generous of monarchs, who is anxious to convert a brave insur- gent into a loyal friend. My lord the king, having heard by letters from my brother the Earl De Warenne, of the honourable manner in which you treated the English whom the fate of battle threw into your power; instead of sending over from Flanders a mighty army to overwhelm this rebellious kingdom; — has deputed ed me, even as an embassador, to reason with the rash- ness he is ready to pardon. And with this diadem,'* continued he, drawing a circlet of jewels from the casket, " v/hich he tore from the brows of a Saracen prince on the ramparts of Acre, he sends the assur- ances of his regard for the heroic virtues of his enemy. And to these jewels, he commands me to say, that he will add a more efficient crown, if Sir William Wallace will awake from this trance of false enthusiasm, and ac- knowledge, as he is in duty bound to do, the supre- macy of England over this country. — -Speak but the word, noblest of Scots," added he, " and the Bishop of Durham has orders from the generous Edward, immedi- ately to anoint you as King of Scotland ; — that done, my royal master w'ould support you in your throne, against every man who sould dare to dispute your au- thority." At these words Wallace rose from his seat. — " My lord," said he, " since I took up arms for injured Scot- land, I have been used to look into the hearts of men ; I therefore estimate with every due respect the com- pliment which this message of your King pays to my vir- tues. Had he thought that I deserved the confidence of Scotland he would not have insulted me with offering a price for my allegiance. — To be even a crowned vas- sal of King Edward, is far beneath my ambition. — Take back then the Saracen's diadem : It shall never dishonour the brows of him who has sworn by the cross, to maintain the independence of Scotland, or to lay down his life in the attempt." " Weigh well, brave sir," resumed the Earl, " the THE SCOTTISH CHIEPS. 2i- consequences of this answer to Edward. He will soon be in England : and not at the head of such armies as you have discomfited, but with countless legions ; and when he falls upon any country in indignation, tlic places, of its cities are known no more." " Better for a brave people so to perish," replied Wallace, '" than to exist in dishonour." " What dishonour, noble Scot, can accrue from ac- knowledging the supremacy of your liege lord ? or to what can the proudest ambition in Scotland extend, be- yond that of posscssiiicc its throne r" " I am not such a slave as to prefer what men might call aggrandizement, before the higher destiny of pre- serving to my country its liberties untrammelled.— To be the guardian of lier freedom, and of the indivi- dual rights of every uian born in Scottish ground, is my ambition, ill should I perform the one duty, were I to wrong the posterity of Alexander by invading their throne; and horrible would be my treason against the other, could I sell my confiding country for a name and a bauble, into the grasp of an usurper !" " Brand not with so unjust an epithet, the gene- rous Edward!" interrupted De Lisle; "let your own noble nature be a witness of his. Put from you all the prejudices which the ill-conduct of his officers have excited; and you must perceive that in accepting his terms you will but repay your country's confidence, by giving it peace." " So great would be my damning sin in such an accep- tance," cried Wallace,"that I should be abhorred by God and man. You talk of noble minds. Earl ; look into your ov/n, and will it not tell you, that from the mo- ment a people can bring themselves to put the com- mand of their actions, and with that their consciences, into the hands of an usurper, (and that Edward is one in Scotland, our annals and his tyrannies declare ;)they sell their birth-right, and become unworthy of the name of men; they abjure the gift with which God had intrusted them; and justly, the angels of his host depart from them. You know the sacred injunction— Firtue z.s better than life I By that we are commanded 10 preserve the one at the expense of the other: and- 22 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS- we are ready to obey. — Neither the threats nor the blandishments of Edward, have power to shake the re- solves of them who dra%v the sivord of the Lord and of Gideon /" " Rebellious man I" cried Beck, who had listened impatiently; and whose haughty spirit could ill brook such towering language being directed to his sove- reign; "since you dare quote scripture to sanction crime, hear my embassage. To meet the possibility of this flagitious obstinacy, I ca.me armed with the thunder of the church ; and the indignation of a justly incensed monarch. Accept his most gracious ofTcrs, delivered to you by the Lord De Lisle. Here is the cross to receive your oath of fealty. But beware 1" added he, stretching out his hand as if he thought his commands were irresistible ; "keep it with truer faith than did the traitor Baiiol ; or expect the malediction of heaven, the exterminating vengeance of your licgc lord I" Wallace was not discomposed by thia fierce attack of the stormy prelate : " My lord of Durham," replied he-, with his usually serene air, "the threats, or the bribes of EdwaiTl, are, as I have said, equally indifferent to me — Had he sent me such proposals as became a just king, and were possible for an honest Scot to admit, he should have found me ready to have treated liim with the respect due to his rank and honour. But when he demands the sacrifice of my integrity; when he asks me to sign the deed that would again spread this reno- vated land with devastation; when he requires me to do this, were I to consider the glozing language of his embassy, as grace and nobleness, I should belie my own truth ; which tramples alike on his menaces, and his pretended claims. — And I ask you, priest of hea- ven ! is he a God greater than Jehovah, that I should fear him ?" " And dost thou presume, audacious rebel 1" ex- claimed Beck, " that the light of Israel deigns to shine on a barbarian nation in arms against a hero of the cross ? Reprobate that thou art, answer thyself to thine own condemnation ! Does not the church de- clare the claims of Edward to be just ? and who d;i/('- gain-say her decrees ? THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. .23 " The voice of him you pretend to serve ! He is no respecter of persons : he raises the poor from the dust ; and by his arm thy tyrant and his host are plung- ed in the overwhehiiing waves 1 Bishop, I know in whom I trust. Is the minister greater than his lord, that I should believe the word of a synod against the declared will of God? Neither anathemas nor armed thousands shall make me acknowledge the supremacy of Edward. He may conquer the body, but the soul of a patriot he can never subdue." " Then," cried Leek, suddenly rising with a face black with choler, and stretching his crosier over the head of Wallace, he exclaimed, " As the rod of Moses shed plagues, miseries, and death, over the land of Egypt, I invoke the like judgments to fall on this re- bellious land and its blasphemous leader ! And thus I leave it my curse. ^' Wallace smiled as the terrific words fell from the lips of this demon in sacred guise. Lord de Lisle ob- served him; " You despise this malediction. Sir Wil- liam Wallace ! I thought more piety had dwelt with so much military nobleness 1" " I should not regard the curses of a congregated world," replied Wallace, " when my conscience as loudly proclaims that God is on my side. And is he not omniscient, that he should be swayed by the preju- dices of men ? Does he not read the heart? Is he not master of all causes ? And shall I shrink, when I know that I hold his commission? Shall 1 not regard these anathemas, even as the artillery with which the adversary would drive me from my post ? But did the clouds rain fire, and the earth open beneath my feet, I would not stir ; for I know who planted me here ; and as long as he wills me to stand, neither men nor devils can move me hence." " Thou art incorrigible !" cried Beck. . " I would say, firm ;" rejoined De Lisle, overcome with the majesty of virtue ; "could I regard,* as he does, the course he has espoused. But, as it is, noble Wallace," continued he, " I must regret your infatua- tion ; and instead of the peace I thought to leave with you, hurl war, never-ending^ extirpating war, upon the 24 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. head of this devoted nation !" As he spoke, he threw his''*^) lance against the opposite wall, in which it stuck, and stood shivering ; and teiking up the casket, he re- placed it, and its splendid contents, in his bosom. Beck had turned away in wrath from the table ; and advancing with a magisterial step to the door, he threw it open, as if he thought that longer to breathe the same air with the person he had excommunicated, would infect him with his own curses. At that instant a group ot Scots, who Avaited in the anti-chamber, hastened forward. At sight of the prelate they raised, their bonnets, but hesitated to pass him, as he uo\ir stood, proudly neglectful of their respect, on the thres- hold of the halj door. In the next minute Wallace appeared with De Lisle. " Brave knight," said the Earl, " the adieus of a man as sensible of your private worth, as he regrets the errors of your public opinions, abide with youl" " Were Edward as sensible to virtue as his brave subjects are," replied the chief, " I should not fear that another drop of blood need be shed in Scotland, to convince him of his present injustice. Farewell, noble De Lisle; the generous candour of yourself,iand your brother, will ever live in tiie remembrance of William Wallace." While he yet spoke, a youth broke from the hold of a chieftain who stood amidst the group before them, and rushing towards the Regent, threw himself with a cry of joy at his feet. " My Edwin, my brother !" ex- claimed Wallace, and immediately raising him, clasp- ed him in his arms. The throng of Scots, who had accompanied their young leader from Stirling, now crowded about the chief, some kiieeling and kissing his garments, and others ejaculating with uplifted, hands, " Thanks be to the God of battles, who has re- turned our protector to us safe, and with a redoubleel glory 1" " You forgive me, my master and friend ?" cried Edwin, forgetting, in the happy agitation of his mind, the presence of the English embassadors. " It vras only as a master, I condemned you, my brother I" returned Wallace j " every proof of your THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 25 affection, must render you dearer to me ; and had it been exerted against an offender not so totally in your power, you would not have met my reprimand. But ever remember, that the persons of prisoners are in- violable ; for they lie on the bosom of mercy; and who, that has honour, would take them thence ?" De Lisle, who had lingered to observe this short, but animated scene, now wanted to interrupt it : " May 1 ask, noble Wallace," said he, "if this interesting youth be the brave young Ruthven, v/ho distinguished himself at Dumbarton ; and who, my brother told me, incurred a severe, though just sentence from you, in consequence of his attack upon one whom, as a sol- dier, I blush to name." " It is the same." replied Wallace, " The valovu' and fidelity of such as he, are as sinews to my arms ; and bring a more grateful empire to my heart, than all the crowns which may be in the power of Edv/ard to be- stow." " I have often seen the homage of the body," said De Lisle, " but here I see that of the soul ; and were I a king, I should envy Sir William Wallace !" " You speak either as a courtier or a traitor !" sud- denly exclaimed Beck, and turning with a threatening- brow on De Lisle ; "Beware, Earl ! for what has now been said, must be repeated to the royal Edward : and he will judge whether such flattery to this proud rebel be consistent with your allegiance." " Every word that has been uttered in this confer- ence, («> I will myself deliver to King Edward ;" replied De Lisle ; " he shall know the man on whom he may be forced by justice to denounce the sentence of rebel- lion ; and, when the puissance of his royal arm lays this kingdom at his feet, the virtues of Sir William Wal- *lace may then find the mercy he now contemns." Beck did not condescend to listen to the latter part of this explanation ; but, walking into the court-yard, had mounted his horse before his worthier coadjutor appeared from the hall. Taking a gracious leave of Sir John Graham, who attended him to the door, the Earl said, "What miracle is this that is before me ? Not only the mighty mover in this v/ide ins*irrection ii- VOI,. II, c 26 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. in the bloom of manhood, but all the generals of his that I have yet seen, appear in the very morning of youth ! And you conquer our veterans ; you make yourselves names which, with us, are only purchased by long ex- perience, and hairs grown grey in camps and battles !'* "Then by our morning, judge what our day will be," replied Graham, ''and shew your monarch, that being- young, we are likely to live the longer ; and that as surely as the night of death Avill in some hour close upon prince and peasant, this land shall never again be over-shadowed by his darkness." " Listen not to their bold treasons !" cried Beck ; and setting spurs to his horse, in no very clerical style galloped out of the gates. De Lisle made some courteous reply to Graham ; and bowing to the rest of the Scottish officers who stood around, turned his steed, and followed by his escort, pursued the steps of the bishop along the snow -covered banks of the Clyde. When Wallace was left alone with Edwin, that af- fectionate boy, (after expressing his delight that his cousin Murray then held his head-quarters in Bothwell- castle) took from his bosom two large packets from Lord Mar and the Countess ; and as he put them into liis hand, said, " My dear cousin has sent you many blessings ; but I could not persuade her to register even one on paper, while my uncle wrote all this. Al- most ever since her own recovery, like a ministering angel, she has confined herself to the Earl's sick room; while her comely step-mother chose to devote her hours to his audience-chamber.'* Wallace remarked on the indisposition of Mar, and the duty of his daughter, with tenderness. And Ed- win proceeded to describe the regal style wdiich the Countess aifected, and with what magnificence she wel- comeu the Earls Badenoch and Athol to their native country. " Indeed, my dear lord," continued he, " I cannot guess what vain passion has taken possession of her ; but the very day in which I went to Snawdoun to receive her commands for you, I found her seated on a kind of throne, v/ith ladies standing in her presence, and the younger chieftains of the citadel thronging her anti-room, as if she were the Regent herself. Helen THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 27 entered for a moment ; but she started, (for she had never before witnessed the morning courts of her step- mother,) and retreating-, I followed." But Edwin did not relate to his friend, all that passed between him and his gentle cousin, in the private saloon of the Countess, whither they retired. Helen, blushing for her father's wife, would have proceeded immediately to her own apartments, to wdiich she was now, for the first time, allowed to return since the Earl's convalescence ; but Edwin drew her into one of Lady Mar's rooms ; and seating her beside him, began to speak of his departure and anticipated meeting with Wallace. He held her hand in his. " My dearest cousin," said he, " will not this tender hand, which has suffered so much for our brave friend, write him one word of kind remembrance ? Our queen here, will send him volumes." "Then he would hardly have time to attend to one of mine," replied Helen, with a smile ; " besides, he knows I bless him ; and he requires no new assurances to convince him that Helen Mar can never cease to re- member with the kindest thoughts, her benefactor.'* " And is this all I am to say to him, Helen ?" "All, my EcKvin." " What 1 not one word of the life you have led since he quitted Stirling ? Shall I not tell him, that when this lovely arm no longer wore the livery of its heroism in his behalf, instead of your appearing at the gay assem- blies of the Countess ; instead of your car being fol- lowed by the homage of our plumed chieftains ; you remained immured within your oratory ; or, in the more appropriate temple of nature, amid groves and incense-breathing flowers, invoking blessings on his head ? Shall I not tell him, that since the sickness oi my good old uncle, you have sat days and nights by his couch-side, listening to all the dispatches from the borders, and subscribing with smiles and tears to the Earl's praises of our matchless Regent ? Shall I not tell of the sweet nun, v.ho here lives the life of an an- chorite for him ? Or must I entertain him with tlic pomps and vanities of my most unsaintly aunt ?" Helc]! had in vain attempted to stop him in this 28 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. harangue, while, with an arch glance at her mantling blushes, he half-whispered these insiduous questions. " Ah, my sweet cousin," said he, " there is something more at the bottom of that beating heart of yours, than you will allow your faithful Edwin to peep into 1" Helen's heart did beat violently both before and after this remark ; but conscious, whatever might be there, of the determined purpose of her soul, she turned on him a steady look. " Edwin," said she, " there is nothing in my heart that you may not see. That it re- veres Sir William Wallace beyond all other men, I do not deny. But class not my deep veneration with a sentiment which may be jested on ! He has spoken to me the lai^guage of friendship : you know what it is to be his friend : And having tasted of heaven, I cannot stoop to earth. What pleasure can I find in pageants ? W^hat interest in the admiration of men ? Is not he a brighter object than I can any where look upon ? Is not his esteem of a value that puts to nought the homages of all else in the world? Do me then justice, my Ed- win 1 Believe mc, I am no gloomy, no sighing recluse. I am happy with my thoughts ; and thrice happy at tho side of my father's couch ; for there I meet the image gf the most exemplary of human beings ; and there I perform the duties of a child to the best of parents." " Ah, Helen ! Helen I" cried Edwin, " durst I speak the wishes of my heart ! But you and Sir William Wallace would both frown on me, and I dare not !" '■' Then never do i" exclaimed Helen, turning pale, and trer/ibling from head to foot ; too well guessing by the generous glov/ in his countenance, what would have been that wish. At ihis instant the door opened, and Lady Mar ap-^ pcared. Both rose at her entrance. She bowed her head haughtily to Helen ; the sight of whom had beeif odious t" her ever since the night she had seen her, though bleeding and insensible, in the arms of Sir Wil- .• liam Wallace. To Edwin she graciously extended her hand as she seated herself. " Why, my dear nephew, did you suffer yourself to be infected by this moping girl, and not come into the audience chamber ?'* Edv/Jn answered, that as he did not know the go- THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 29 vernor of Stirling's lady living in the state of a queen, he hoped he should be excused for mistaking lords and ladies-in-waiting for company ; and for that reason, having resolved to await an opportunity of bidding her adieu in a less pui)lic scene. Lady Mar, with increased stateliness, replied; " Perhaps it is necessary to remind you, Edwin, that though Lord Mar's wife, I am a descendant of queens ; a princess in my own right; and not only heiress to the sovereignty of the northern isles, but next in blood to the Earl of Badenoch, of the race of Scottish kings. Rely on it, I do not degenerate ; and that I affect no state to which I may not pretend." Edwin, to conceal an irrepressible smile at the ab- surd pride of his aunt, turned towards the window ; but not before the Countess had observed the ridicule which played on his lips. Vexed, but afraid to repri- mand one who might so soon resent it, by speak:ng of her disparagingly to Wallace, she unburthened the swel- ling of her anger upon the unoffending Helen. Not doubting that she felt as Edwin did, and fancying that she saw the same expression in her countenance ; " Lady Helen," cried she, " I request an explanation of that look of derisioii which I now see oh your face. I wish to know whether the intoxication of your vanity dare impel you to despise claims, v.'hich you may one day be made to smart under 1" This attack surprised Helen, who, absorbed in other meditations, had hardly attended to what had passed. " I neither deride you. Lady Mar, nor despise the claims of Lord Badenoch. But since you have conde- scendedto speak to me on the subject, I must, out of respect to yourself, and tenderness for my father, frankly say, that the assumption of honours not legally in your possession, may involve you in ridicule, and pluck danger on your nearest relatives. It is what my father would never approve, were he to know it. x\nd by awakening the jealousy of other ladies of the royal houses, is not a probable mode to facilitate the succes- sion of Lord Badenoch." Lady Mur^ provoked at the just reasoning and cool- ness of this reply ; and at being mjlsapprehended with iv. THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. regard to the object v/ith whom she wasS to share the splendors of a throne; answered rather inconsiderately, »' Your father is an old man, and has out-lived every generous feeling. Pie neither understands my actions, nor shall he control them." Helen, struck dumb by this unexpected declaration, suffered her to proceed ; '• And as to Lord Badenoch giving me the rank to Vr-hich my birth entities me, that is a foolish dream — I look to a greater hand." " What I" inquired Edwin, with an innocent laugh, ^' cioes your ladyship expect my uncle to die, and that Bruce will come hither to lay the crown of Scotland at your feet?'' " I expect nothing of Bruce, nor of your uncle," re- turned she, with a haughty throw of her head ; " but I look for respect from the daughter of Lord Mar; and also from the friend of Sir William Wallace ; else the time may come, when all who offend me shall rue the hour in which they have insulted the kindness that would have loaded them with honours." She rose from her chair, and presenting Edwin with the packet for Wallace, told Helen she might retire to her own room. " To my father's, I will, madam," returned she, " for Edwin, who sat with him last night, to receive his dis- patches, now leaves him to my care" Lady Mar coloured at this reproof, and turning to Edwin, said, " You know that the dignity of his situation must be maintained ; and while others attend on his couch, I must tx) his reputation." " I have often heard that Fame is better than lifei^^ replied Edwin, "and I thank Lady Mar for shewing ,ue how differently people may translate the same lesson. " Adieu, sweet Helen," said he, bending to kiss her hand. " Farewell, dear Edwin," returned she, ^* may good angels guard you 1" The substance of the latter part of this scene, Edwin ild relate to Wallace. He smiled at the vain follies of the Countess, and broke the seal of her letter. It vv'as in the same st. le with her conversations ; atone moment declaring herself his disinterested friend ; in ^he next, uttering wild professions of never-ending at- THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 31 tachnieftt. She deplored the sacrifice that had been made of her, when quite a child, to the doting passion of Lord Mar; and complained of his vv^ant of sympathy with any of her feelings. Then picturing the happi- ness which must result from the reciprocal love of con- genial hearts, she ventured to shew how truly hers would unite v/ith Wallace's. The conclusion of this strange epistle told him, that the devoted gratitude of Lord Badenoch, and all her relations of the different houses of Cummin, were ready at any moment to re- linquish their claims on the crown, to place it on brows so worthy to v/earit. The words of this letter were so artfully, and so persuasively penned, that had not Edwin described the inebriated vanity of Lady Mar, Wallace might have be- lieved that she was ambitious only for him ; and that, could she share his heart, his throne would be a secon- dary object. To establish this deception in his mind, she added — " I live here as at the head of a court, and fools around me think I take pleasure in it : — But did they look into my actions, they would see that I serve while I seem to reign. I am working in the hearts of -men for your advancement." But whether this were her real motive or not, it was the same to Wallace ; he felt that she would always be not merely the last object in his thoughts, but ever one of his aversion. He might have esteemed her as a friend, he abhorred her as a lover ; therefore hastily running over her letter, he recurred to a second peru- sal of Lord Mar's. In this he found most satisfactory details of the success of his dispositions. Lord Loch- awe had possessed himiself of the whole of the western coast of Scotland, from the Mull of Kintyre, to the farthest mountains of Glenmore. There the victorious Lord Ruthven met him, and completed the recovery of the Highlands, by a range of conquests from the Spey to the Murray-Frith and Inverness-shire. Lord Both- well, as his brave colleague, brought from the shores of Ross, and the hills of Caithness, every Southron ban- ner vt^hich had waved on their embattled tov/ers. Graham was sent for by WallacCj to come and hear these pleasant tidings. 32 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. " Ah !*^ cried Edwin, in triumph, " not a spot north of the Forth now remains, that does not acknowledge the supremacy of the Scottish lion !'' " Nor south of it, either !" returned Graham, " from the Mull of Galloway, to my gallant father's govern- ment on the Tweed ; from the Cheviots to the northern ocean, all now is our own. The door is locked against England ; and Scotland must prove unfaithful to her- self, before the Southrons can again set foot on her borders." The more private accounts ^vere not less satisfactory to Wallace ; for he found that his plans for the disci- plining, and bringing into order, the people, were eve- ry where adopted ; and that, in consequence, alarm and penury had given way to peace and abundance. To witness the success of his comprehensive designs; and to settle a dispute relative to the government of Perth, between Lord Ruthven and the Earl of Athol-f . Lord Mar strongly urged him, (since he had driven the enemy so many hundred miles into their own country,) to repair to the scene of contest immediately. " Go," added the Earl, " through the Lothians, and across the queen's-ferry, directly into Perthshire. I would not have you come to Stirling, lest it should be supposed that you are influenced in your judgment either by my- self or my wife. But I think there cannot be a ques- tion that Lord Ruthven's services to the great cause, give him a right to that for which he contends. Lord Athol has no claim, but that of his superior rank. And, I believe, being the near relation of my wife, she is anxious for his elevation. Therefore, come not near us, if you would avoid female importunity." Wallace now recollected a passage in Lady Mar's letter, which, though not speaking out, insinuated how she should expect he would decide : she said, — " As your interest is mine, my noble friend, all that belongs to me is yours : — my kindred are not withheld in th>e gift my devoted heart bestows on you. Therefore, use them as your own : make them as bulwarks around your power, the creatures of your will, the instruments of your benevolence, the defenders of your rights.'"' THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. ^32 Wallace, well pleased to avoid another rencontre with this lady's love and ambition, sent off the substance of these dispatches to Murray ; and then taking a ten- der leave of the venerable Gregory and his family, with Edwin and Sir John Graham set off* next morning for the Frith of Forth. CHAP. IV. It was on the eve of St. Thomas, that the boat which contained Wallace, drew near to the coast of Fife. A little to the right of him towered the, tremendous pre- cipices of Kinghorn. " Behold, Edwin," said he, " the cause of all our woe 1 From those horrible rocks fell the best of kings, the good Alexander. My father accompanied him in that fatal ride ; and was one of the unhappy group who had the evil hap to find his mangled body lying amongst the rocks below." " I have heard, observed Graham, " that the lord of Learmont prophesied that dreadful calamity to Scot- land." " He did prognosticate," replied Wallace, " that on the eighteenth of April a storm should burst over this land, which would lay the country in ruins. A fear in consequence seized the farmers : But it seems the prophecy regarded a nobler object than the harvest. The day came, but w^as unclouded : It continued per- fectly serene ; and Lord March, tp whom the seer had presaged the event, at noon reproached him with the unlikeliness of its completion. But even at the mo- ment he was ridiculing the sage, an express on a foam- ing steed knocked at his gate, to inform him that the king had accidentally fallen from the precipice of King- hom, and was slain. Thatn^ said the Lord of Learmont, is the scaithing ivmd and dreadful temfiest nvhich shall Jong blow calamity and trouble on the realm of. Scot- land ! — And surely his words have been verified, for still the storm rages around our borders ; and will not end, 1 fear, till the dras:on of England is laid low in the bhist."(f) 34 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. The like discourse held the friends, till landing at Ro- seyth castle ; they lodged there for the night ; and set- ting oft' next morning by day-break, crossed the Lo- monds before sun-rise and entered Perth at noon. The news of the Regent's arrival was soon spread throughout the province ; and in less than an hour, the halls of the castle were crowded wiih chieftains, come to pay their respects to their benefactor. An army of grateful peasantry from the hills filled the courts, beg- ging only for one glance of their beloved lord. To ©blige them, Wallace mounted his horse, and between the lords Ruthven and Athol, with his bonnet off, rode from the castle, to the populace-covered plain which l^y to the west of the town. He gratified their affectionate eagerness by this condescension, and received in return the sincere homage of a thousand grateful hearts. The snow-topped Grampians echoed with the proud acclama- tions of Our deliverer — Our prince — The champion of Scotland — The glorious William Wallace I and the shores of the Tay resounded with similar rejoicings at the sight of him who had made the Scottish seamen lords of the Northern ocean. Ruthven beheld this eloquence of nature with sym- pathetic feelings. His just sense of the unequalled merits of the Regent, had long internally acknowledged him as his king ; and he smiled with approbation at every breathing amongst the people, which intimated what would at last be their general shout. Wallace had proved himself not only a warrior, but a legislator. In the midst of war he had planted the fruits of peace, and now the olive and the vine waved abundt.nt on every hill. Different were the thoughts of the gloomy Athol as he rode by the side of the Regent. Could he, by a look, have blasted those valiant arms; and palsied that youthful head, whose judgment shamed the hoariest temples, gladly would he have made Scotland the sac- rifice ; so that he might never again find himself in the triumphant train of one whom he deemed a boy and an upstart I Thus did he muse ; and thus did the fiend envy open a way into his soul for all those demons to enter, which were so soon to possess it to the destruc» THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 35 tion of the iDlooming Eden, over which, like the devil in Paradise, his destroying spirit now hovered. The issue of Ruthven's claims, did not lessen Lord Athol's hatred of the Regent. Wallace simply stated the case to him, only changing the situations of the op- ponents ; He supposed Athol to be in the place of Ruthven ; and then asked the frowning Earl, ifRuth- ven had demanded a government which he, Athol, had bravely won and nobly secured, whether he should deem it just to be sentenced to relinquish it into the hands of his rival ? By this question he was forced to decide against himself. But while Wallace generously hoped, that by having made him his own judge, he had found an expedient both to soften the pain of disappointment, and to lessen the humiliation of defeat, he had only re- doubled the hatred of Athol ; who thought he had thus, been cajoled out of even the common privilege of com- plaint. He, however, affected to be reconciled to the issue of the affair; and taking a friendly leave of the Regent, retired to Blair; and there, amongst the nu- merous fortresses which owned his power, amongst the stupendous strong-holds of nature, the cloud-invested mountains, and the iabyrinthian winding of the lochs and streams ; he determined to pass his days and nights in devising the sure fall of this proud usurper. For so, the bitterness of an envy he durst not yet breathe to any, impelled him internally to designate the unpretending W^allace. Meanwhile Wallace, being much oppressed by the crowds which were constantly assembling in Perth to do him homage, secluded himself for a few days in Hunting-tower, a castle of Lord Ruthven's, at a short distance from the town. He there arranged with the chiefs of several clans, matters of great consequence to the internal repose of the country; and receiving applications for similar regulations from the counties farther north, he decided on carrying them himself. Severe as the weather is at that season, he bade adieu to the warm hospitalities of Hunting-tower ; and, ac- companied by Graham and his young friend Edwin, with fiftv of his Lanarkers as a small but faithful train, 56 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. he commenced a journney, which he intended should comprehend the circuit of the Highlands. With the chieftain of almost every castle in his tour, he passed a day ; and according to the interest which the situation of the surrounding peasantry created in his mind, he lengthened his sojourn. But every where he was welcomed with enthusiasm ; and his glad eye beheld the festivities of Christmas, with a delight which recalled passed emotions till they wrung his heart. The last day of the old year he spent with Lord Loch- awe in Kilchurn castle.fe^ After a bounteous feast, in which lord and vassal joined, the whole family, accord- ing to the custom of the country, sat up the night to hail the coming in of the new season. Wallace had pas- sed that hour, twelve months ago, alone with his Marion ! They sat together in the window of the western tower of Ellerslie ; and while he listened to the cheerful lilts to which their servants were dancing, the hand of his lovely bride was clasped softly in his. Marion smiled, and talk- ed of the happiness which should await them in the year to come. " Aye, my beloved," said he, ^' more than thy beauteous self will then fill these happy arms 1 Thy babe, my wife, will then hang at thy bosom, to bless with a parent's joys thy grateful husband !" — That time was now come round, and where was Marion ? — cold inMicr grave. Where that smiling babe ? — a mur- derer's steel had reached it ere it saw the light. Wallace groaned at these recollections : He struck bis hand forcibly on his bursting heart, and fled from the room. The noise of the harps, the laughing of the dancers, (for Loch-awe's beautiful daughters had assembled a gay bevy from the neighbouring castles, to welcome the year of glory to Scotland ;) prevented his emotion from being observed..— And rushing far from the joyous tumult, till the sound died in the breeze, or was only brought to his ear by fitful gusts, he speeded along the margin of the lake, as if he would have also flown from himself. But memory, racking memory, followed him ; and throwing himself exhausted on a bank, over which the ice hung in glittering pendents, he felt not the roughness of the ground, for all within him was disturbed and at war. THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. oi '^ O ! blessed saints," cried he, " why was I select- ed for this cruel sacrifice ? Why was this heart, to whom the acclaim of multitudes could bring no selfish joy, why was it to be bereft of all that ever made it beat with transport ? Companion of my days, partner of my soul ! my 16st, lost Marion ! and are thine eyes for ever closed on me ? shall I never more clasp that hand which ever thrilled my frame with every sense of rap- ture ?— Gone, gone for ever, and I am alone ?" Long and agonizing was the pause which succeeded to this fearful tempest of feeling. In that hour of grief, renewed in all its former violence, he forgot country^ friends, and all on earth. The recollection of his fame^ was mockery to him ; for where was she to whom the sound of his praises would have given such delight ? " Ah !" said he, " it was indeed happiness to be brightened in those eyes ! — When the gratitude of our poor retainers met thine ear, how didst thou lay thy soft cheek to mine, and shoot its gentle warmth into my heart i" At that moment he turned his face on the gelid bank : — Starting with wild horror, he exclaimed, " Is it now so cold ? — My Marion, my murdered wife I" and rushing from tlie spot, he again hastened along the margin of the loch. But there he still heard the dis- tant sound of the pipes from the castle : He could not bear their gay notes ; and darting up the hill which overhung Loch-awe's domains, ascended with swiit and reckless steps the rocky sides of Ben Cruachon. Full of distracting thoughts, and impelled by a wild despair, he hurried from steep to steep; and rapidly descending the western side of the mountain, regardless of the piercing sleet which blew in his face, he was flying forward, when his course was suddenly checked by coming in violent contact with another human being, who, running as hastily through the storm, drove impe- tuously against Wallace, but being the weaker of the two, fell to the ground. The accident rallied the scat- tered senses of the chief. He row felt that he was out in the midst of a furious winter tempest ; wandered, he knew not whither, and had probably materially injured some poor traveller by his intemperate motion. He stooped to raise the fallen man, and hearing him VOL. XI. D 38 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. mutter something, asked whether he was hurt. The traveller, perceiving by the kind tone of the inquirer that no harm had been intended, answered that he be- lieved not. But on Wallace assisting him to rise, he found himself a little lame ; " I have only sprained my ancle," added he, " and all the recompense I ask of you for this unlucky upset, is to give me a helping hand to my father's cot, which is just by. I have been out at a neighbour's to dance in the new-year with abonnie lass, who may be my wife before another." As the honest lad went on telling his tale, with a great many particulars dear to his simple wishes, Wallace helped him along; and carefully conducted him, through the gathering snow, down the declivity which led to the shepherd's cottage. When they where within a few yards of it, Wallace heard the sound of singing : but it was not ]the gay caroling of mirth : the solemn chant of more serious music mingled with the roaring blast. " Aye I am not too late yet !" cried the communica- tive lad ; " I should not have run so fast, had I not want- ed to have got home time enough to make one in the new-year's hymn." They had now arrived at the little door ; and the youth, without the ceremony of knocking, opened the latch : as he did it, he turned and said to his companion, "We have no occasion to keep bolts on our doors, since the brave Lord Wallace has scoured the country of all the Southron robbers." He pushed the door as he spoke, and displayed to the eyes of the chief, a ven- erable old man on his knees before a table on which stood a crucifix, and around him knelt a family of young people and an aged dame, w^ho were all joining in the sacred thanksgiving. The youth, without a word drop- ped on his knees near the door ; and making a sign to his companion (whose more costly garments could not be discerned through the clinging snow) to do the same, Wallace complied ; and as the anthems rose in succes- sion on his ear, to which the low breathings of the light- ly-touched harp echoed its heavenly strains, he felt the tumult of his bosom gradually subside ; and when the venerable sire laid down the instrument, and clasped his hands in prayer, the natural pathos of his invocations, THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 59 and the grateful devotion with which the young people gave their responses, all tended to tranquillize his mind into a holy calm. At the termination of the concluding prayer, how sweet were the emotions of Wallace when he heard these words uttered with augmented fervour by the aged petitioner 1 " While we thus thank thee, O gracious God! for thy mercies bestowed upon us, we humbly implore thee to hold in thine almighty protection him by whose arm thou hast wrought the deliverance of Scotland. Let our preserver be saved from his sins by the blood of Christ ! Let our benefactor be blest in mind, body, and estate, and all prosper with him that he takes in htind ! May the good he has dispensed to his bleeding- country, be returned four-fold into his own bosom ; — and may he live to see a race of his own reaping the harvest of his virtues, and adding fresh honours to the already glorious name of Wallace!" Every mouth echoed a fervent amen to this prayer: and Vvailace himself, inv/ardiy breathed, "And have I not even now sinned. All -gracious God ! in the distrac- tion of this night's remembrance ? I mourne and Badenoch, were the first that obeyed the call. They started at sight of Helen ; but Wallace, in a few words, related the cause- of her appearance ; and the portentous letter was laid before them. All were acquainted with the hand-wri- ring of Lord March ; and all agreed in attributing to Us real motive, his late solicitude to obtain the com- mand of the Lothians ; " What !" cried Bothwell, " but ;o open his castle-gates to the enemy !" " And to repel him before he reaches ours, my brave chiefs !" replied Wallace, " I have summoned you. Edward will not make this attempt without tremen- dous powers. He knows what he risques ; his men, his life, and his honor. W^e must therefore expect a 3tand adequate to his danger. Lose not then a mo- ment ; even to-night, this instant, go out, and bring in your followers ; I will call up mine from the banks of the Clyde, and be ready to meet him ere he crosses the Carron." While he gave these orders, other nobles thronged in; and Helen, as the story of her conduct was repeat- ed, being severally thanked by them all, became so a- gitated, that, stretching out her hand to Wallace, who •was nearest to her, she softly whispered, " take me hence." He read in her blushing face the oppression which her modesty sustained in such a scene ; and with faltering steps she leaned upon his arm, and he con- ducted her through an anti-roon> into an interior cham- THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 79 her of the governor's apartments. Here Helen, over- come by her former fears, and the emotions of the last hour, sunk into a chair and burst into tears. Wallace stood over her^ as he looked on her he thought" If ought on earth ever resembled the beloved of my soul, it is Helen Mar !'* And all the tenderness which me- mory gave to his ever-adored wife, and all the grateful complacency with which he regarded Helen, beamed at once from his eyes. She raised her head — she felt that look — it thrilled to her soul. For a moment every former thought seemed lost in the one perception, that he then gazed on her as he had never looked on any woman since his Marion. Was she then beloved ? The impression was evanescent : " No, no 1" said she to herself; and waving her hand gently to him, with her head bent down ; " Leave me, Sir William Wallace — Forgive me, — but I am exhausted; my frame is weaker than my mind." She spoke this by snatches ; and Wallace respectfully touching the hand she extended, pressed it to his breast. " I obey you^ dear Lady Helen ; and when next we meet, it will be, I hope, to dispel every fear in this gentle bosom, and to say that heaven has again blessed the arms of Scot- land 1'* With a beating heart she bowed her head ■without looking up ; and Wallace left the room. CHAP. IX. IJeFORE the sun rose, every brave Scot within a few hours march of Stirling, were assembled on the carse ; and Lord Andrew Murray with his veteran Clydesdale men, was already resting on his arms in view of the city walls. The messengers of Wallace hastened with the speed of the winds, east and west ; and the noon of the day sav/ him at the head of 30,000 men, determined to fight or to die for their country. The surrounding landscape shone in the brightness of midsummer ; for it was the eve of St. Magdalen, and sky and earth, both bore witness to the luxuriant month of July. The heavens were clear, the waters of the 80 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. Forth danced in the sun-beams; and the flower-ena- melled green of the extended plain, breathing fragrance, stretched its beautiful borders to the deepening woods. All nature smiled ; and all seemed in harmony and peace but the breast of man. He who was made lord of this paradise, moved forward to disturb its repose, to disfigure its loveliness ! As the thronging legions pou- red upon the plain, the sheep which had been feeding there, fled, scared to the hills ; the plover and heath- fowl which nestled in the brakes, rose afl'righted from their infant broods, and flew in screaming multitudes far over the receding vallies. The peace of Scotland was again broken, and its flocks and herds were to share its misery 1 When the conspiring lords appeared upon the carse, and Mar communicated to them the lately discovered treason, they so well affected surprise at the contents of the scroll, that it is probable Wallace might not have suspected their connexion with it, had not Lord Athol declared it as his belief, that it was altogether a forgery of some wanton person, and that to gather an army on such authority was ridiculous. While he spoke, Wal- lace regarded him with a look which, Athol meeting, pierced him to the centre ; and the blood rushing into his guilty heart, for once in his life he trembled before the eye of a man. " Whoever be the degenerate Scot to whom this writing is addressed/* said Wallace, " his baseness shall not betray us farther.'' The troops of Scotland shall be in the Lothians to-morrow ; and woe be to the man who that day deserts his country !" — " Amen !" cried Lord Mar. — " Amen I" sounded from every lip : for, when the conscience embraces treason against its earthly rulers, allegiance to its heavenly king is abandoned with ease ; — and the words and oaths of the traitor are equally unstable. Badenoch's eye followed that of Wallace, and his sus- picions fixed where the Regent's fell. For the honour of his blood, he forbore to accuse the Earl, but for the same reason he determined to watch his proceedings. However, the hypocrisy of Athol baffled even the pene- tration of his brother ; and on his retiring from the grouftd to call forth his njen for the expedition, in an THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 8i affected chafe he complained to Badenoch of the stig- ma cast upon their house by the Regent's implied charge. " But,' said he, " he shall this day see my fidelity to Scotland written in blood on the sands of the Forth 1 His towering pride heeds not where Lt strikes; and this comes of raising men of low estate to rule over princes !" — " His birih is noble, if not royal ;" re- plied Badenoch, *' and, before this, the posterity of lungs have not disdained to recover their liberty by the sword of a brave subject." — ''True>'' answered Athol; " but is it customary for princes to allow that subject to sit on their throne ? It is nonsense to talk of Wallace having refused a coronation. He laughs at the name ; but see you not that he openly affects supreme power, and that he rules the nobles of the land like a despot ? His word, his nod, is su(licient. Look at the brave Mack Cailanmore, (^'> the lord of the west of Scotland from sea to sea ; he stands unbonneted before this mighty Wallace, with a more abject homage than ever he paid to the house of Alexander ! And then again, hear how the upstai"! commands the sons of our most venerable nobility : Go here, go there I — as if he were absolute, and there was no voice in Scotland but his own 1 — Can you behold this, Lord Badenoch, and not find the royal blood of your descent boil in your veins ? Does not every look of your wife, ^"^ the sister of a king ; and your own rights knocking at your heart, re- proach you ? He is greater by your strength. Humble him, my brother ; be faithful to Scotland, but humble its proud dictator !" Lord Badenoch replied to this rough exhortation, with the tranquillity belonging to his nature. " I see not the least foundations for any of your charges against Sir William Wallace. He has delivered Scotland, and the people are grateful. The nation with one voice made him their Regent; and he fulfil* the duties of his office : — but with a moderation and modesty. Lord Athol, which, I must affirm, I never saw equalled. I must dissent from you in all you have said ; — And I confess that I did fear that the blandishing arguments of the faithless Cospatrick had persuaded you to em- brace his pernicious treason. You deny it : — that i^ 32 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. well. Prove your innocence this day in the field, against Scotlaiad's enemies, and John of Badenoch will then see no impending cloud to darken the honour of the name of Cummin I" The brothers immediately separated ; and Athol cal- ling his cousin Buchan, laid a new plot to counteract the vigilance of the Regent : one means v/as, to baffle him in his measures, by stimulating the less treasona- ble, but yet discontented chieftans,to thwart him in eve- ry point. At the head of these was John Stewart, Earl of Bute. He had been in Norway during the Jast year, and returned to Scotland just on the triumphal entry of Wallace into Stirling. Athol, aware of the consequence Stewart's name would attach to a cause, gained his ear before he was introduced to the Regent, and so poison- ed his mind against Wallace, that all that was v/ell in him, he deemed ill ; and ever spoke of his bravery with coldness, and of his patriotism with disgust : He be- lieved him a hypocrite ; and as such, despised and ab- horred him. While Athol marshalled his rebellious ranks, Wal- lace led forth his loyal barons to take their stations at the heads of their differ^t clans. Sir Alexander Scrym- geour, with the proudest expectations for Scotland, un- furled his golden standard to the sun. The lords Loch- awe and Bothwell, with others, rode on the right of the Regent. Lord Andrew Murray, with the brave Sir John Graham, and a bevy of young knights, kept the ground on his left. Wallace looked around : Edwin was far away, (he who stood firmly by him in every tu- mult ; and he felt but half appointed for the battle when he wanted his youthful sword-bearer. That faithful friend did not even know of the threatened hostility ; for, to have intimated to Lord Ruthven a danger to Scotland which he could not assist to repel, would only have inflamed his disorder by anxiety, and perhaps have hurried him to dissolution. As the Regent moved forward, with these private affections chequering his public cares, the heralds blew the trumpets of his approach, and a hundred embattled clans appeared in the middle of the plain, ready to re- ceive their valiant leaders. Each chieftain advanced to THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 8G the head of his line, and stood to hear the charge of Wallace. " Brave Scots !** cried he, " I hope this day will bfc the last of Southron invasion ! Treachery has admitted the enemy whom God had driven from our borders. — Be steady in your fidelity to Scotland, and he who has hitherto protected the just cause, will nerve your arms to lay treason and its base coadjutor in the dust !*' " Lead us to victory !" cried the eager soldiers, throwing up their cups at the ever-inspiring voice of their leader. Wallace waved his sword in token to the chieftains to fall back towards their legions ; and while some appeared to linger, Athol, armed cap-a-pee, and spurring his roan steed into the centre of the area before the Regent, demanded, in a haughty tone, " Which of the Scots then in the field, were to lead the vanguard V " The Regent of Scotland," replied Wallace, for once asserting the majesty of his station ; " and you, Lord Athol, with the Lord Buchan, are to defend your country under the command of the brave head of your house, the princely Badenoch." " I stir not from this spot," returned Athol, fiercely striking his lance into its rest, " till I see the honour of my country establish- ed in the eyes of the world by a leader worthy of her rank in the nations being placed in her vanguard." " What he says," cried Buchan, " I second." " And in the same spirit, chieftain of EUerslie," exclaimed Lord Bute, " do I offer to Scotland, myself and my peo- ple. Another must lead the van, or I retire from her ranks." " Speak on !" cried Wallace, more surprised than confounded by this extraordinary attack. " What these illustrious chiefs have uttered, is the voice of us all !" was the general exclamation from a band of warriors who now thronged around the incen- diary nobles. " Your reign is over, proud chieftain !" rejoined Athol, "the Scottish ranks are no longer to be cajoled by your afiected moderation. We see the tyrant in your insidious smile, we feel him in the despotism of vour decrees. To be thus ridden by a man of vulgar 84 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. blood ; to present him as the head of our nation to the kmg of England, is beneath the dignity of our country, is an insult to her nobles ; and therefore in the power of her consequence I speak, and again demand of you to yield the vanguard to one more worthy of the station. Before God and St. Magdalen, I swear," added he, holding up his sword to the heavens, " that I will not stir an inch this day towards the enemy, unless a Cum- min or a Stewart lead our army 1" " And is this your resolution. Lord Bute r" said Wal- lace, looking on Stewart. " It is," was the reply ; " a foe like Edward ought to be met as becomes a great and independent kingdom! We go in the array of an unan- imous nation, to repel him ; not as a band of insurgents, headed by a general, however brave, yet drawn from the common ranks of the people. I therefore demand to follow a more illustrious leader to the field.*' " I am of the same opinion," cried Buchan, " and I think that the eagles have long enough followed their owl in peacock's feathers ; and, being tired of the game. I, like the rest, soar upward again 1" " Give place to a more honourable leader," repeated Athol, supposing that he had intimidated Wallace : but Wallace, raising the visor of his helmet, which he had closed on his last commands to his generals, looked O' Athol with all the majesty of his truly royal soul in his eyes ; " Earl," said he, " the voice of the three estates of Scotland declared me their Regent and protector. God ratified their election by the victory v/ith which he crowned me : and if in ought I have betrayed my trust, let them speak. Four pitched battles have I fought and gained for this country. Twice I beat the representa- tives of King Edward on the plains of Scotland ; and last of all, I made him fly before me over the fields of Northumberland ! What then has befallen me, that I am to be afraid to meet this man ? Has the oil of the Lord with which the blessed hands of the Saint of Dun- keld anointed my brows, lost its virtue, that I should shrink before any king in Christendom ? I neither trem- ble at the name of Edward, nor will I so disgrace my own (which, though not royal, never man who bore it ever degraded by swearing fealty to a foreign prince) THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. S5 Uii to abandon at such a crisis the power with which Scot* land has invested me. Whoever leaves the cause of their country, let them go, and so manifest themselves of noble blood ; I remain, and I lead the vanguard I— Soldiers, to your duty !" As he spoke with a voice of unanswerable command^ several chieftains fell back into their ranks ; and Wal- lace, riding past the frowning Lord Bute, (who hardly knew what to think, so was he startled by the appeal of the accused Regent, and with the noble frankness with which he maintained its rights) turned to him, and said, " Do you, my lord, follow these violent men ? or am I to consider a chief who, notwithstanding his hostility to me, was yet generous in his ire, still so candid as to be faithful to Scotland in spite of his prejudice against her leader ? Will you fight her battles ?" ^ " I shall never desert her cause," replied Stewart, ^^ 'tis truth I seek : therefore, be it to you, Wallace, this day, according to your conscience 1" Wallace bowed his head, and presented him the truncheon round which his orders were wrapped. On opening it, he found that he was appointed to the command of the third division ; Badenoch and Bothwell had the first and second, while Wallace himself now led on the vanguard. Scouts at that instant came up, and informed the Re- T^ent that the English army were near the boundary of Linlithgow, and would be on the Carron in the course ofa few hours. On this intelligence Wallace put his troops to their speed ; and before the sun had declined far towards its western descent, he was within view of Falkirk, He had not communicated to the rest of his chieftains the subject of his conference with the tumul- tuous lords on the carse of Stirling : They were out of hearing of what was said; and Wallace, hoping that the dispute was now ended, thought it best not to disturb his friends on this momentous day witli the knowledge of so refractory a beginning. But just at the instant x\dien he had crossed the Carron, and the Southron banners appeared in sight, Lord Athol, at the head of his rebellious colleagues, rode up to him. Stewart ^ept his station with his division ; and Badenoch, -^hough ignorant of his brother's design, yet aah^uned vol.. n. H 66 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. of such tlisorder, in vain called after him to keep his line. The obstinate chief, regardless of all <:heck, galloped on, and extending his bold accomplices across the path of the Regent, demanded of him on the pe- nalty of his life, that moment to relinquish his pre- tensions to the vanguard. " I am not come here," replied Wallace, indignantly, ^' to betray my country ! I know you. Lord Athol ; and your conduct and mine will this day prove who is most worthy the confidence of Scotland." " This day," cried Athol, " shall see you lay down the power you have usurped." " It shall see me maintain it to your confusion," replied Wallace, " and were you not sur- rounded by Scots of too tried a worth to suspect their being influenced by your rebellious example, I would this moment make you feel the weight of my justice. But the foe is in sight: do your duty now. Lord Athol, and for the sake of the house to which you belong, even this intemperate conduct shall be forgotten." At this instant Sir John Graham, galloping forward, exclaimed, " The Southrons are bearing down upon us 1" and a\thol, turning proudly round on Wallace, with a sar- castic smile, " My actions," cried he, '• shall indeed decide the day !" and setting his spurs furiously into his horse, he re-joined Lord Badenoch's legion. Edward did indeed advance in most terrible battle- array. Above a hundred thousand men swelled his numerous ranks ; and with him were united all from the Lothians and Tiviotdale, whom the influence of the faithless March and the vindictive Soulis, could bring into the field. With this augmented host, and a de- termination to conquer or to die, the Southrons marched rapidly forward. Wallace had drawn himself up on the ascent of the hill of Falkirk to meet him ; and having planted his archers on a coveting eminence, flanked by the legions of Badenoch, Lord Athol, v/ho knew the integrity c£ his brother, and who ciU-ed not in so great a cause (for so his ambition termed it) how he removed an adver- sary from Edvv'ard, and a censor from himself, had given orders to his emissaries ; and on the moment when the trumpet of Wallace sounded tlie charge, and THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 8? the arrows from the hill darkened the air, the virtuous Badenoch, by a secret hand, was stabbed through the back to the heart. Athol, who had placed himself near for the purpose, immediately threw himself upon the man who had committed the deed, and wounding him in the same vital part, exclaimed, holding up his dag- ger, "Behold the weapon that has slain the assassin hired by Sir William Wallace 1"— Thus it is that his ambition would rob Scotland of her native princes. Let us fly from his steel, to the shield of a king and a hero." The poison took. — The men had seen their leader fall ; they doubted not the words of his brother ; and with a shout, exclaiming, " Whither you lead we fol- low !" they at once turned towards him. " Seize the traitor's artillery 1" At this command they mounted ^thehiil; and the archers, little expecting an assault from their countrymen, being unguarded, were either instantly cut down on the spot, or the few that re- mained, hurried away prisoners by Athol and Buchan ; who, now at the head of the whole division of the Cummins, galloped towards the thickest of the enemy, and with loud cries of" Long live King Edward !" threw themselves at once into the bosom of the Southrons. The squadrons which followed Stewart, n,ot knowing but they might be hurried into similar desertion, hesi- tated in the charge he commanded them to make; and Avhile thus undecisive, as some obeyed in broken ranks, and others lingered, the enemy perceiving his advan- tage, advanced briskly up, surrounded the division of Bute, and on the first onset slew him. His ^"^ Bran- danes immediately fell into the most disastrous confu- sion, and sunk under the shock of the Southrons as if touched by a spell. The legions of Bothwell were fiercely engaged with those of the Earl of Lincoln, amid the swamps of a deep morass which lay in that part of the field; and being involved by a reciprocal impetuosity, equal peril seemed to ingulf them- both.. The firm battalion of the vanguard alone remained un- broken, and stood before the pressing and now victo- rious thousands of Edward without receding a step. The archers being lost by the treachery of the Cummins, all hope lay on the strength of the spear and sword; and 88 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. Wallace, standing as immoveable as the rock of Stirling, rank after rank of his dauntless infantry were mowed down by the Southron arrows ; but as fast as they fell, their comrades closed over them, and still presented the ^lame impenetrable front of steady valour. The king of England, indignant at this pause in his conquering- onset, accompanied by his natural brother, the valiant Frere de Eriangy, and a whole squadron of resolute knights, charged full against the Scottish pikemen. ^Vailace, descrying thd jewelled crest of Edward amidst the cloud of battle, rushed forward, and hand to hand engaged the king. Edv/ard knew his adversary, TiOt so much by his snow-white plume, as by the prow- ass of his arm. Twice did the heavy claymore of Wal- lace strike fire from the steely helmet of the monarch ; but at the third stroke, the glittering diadem fell in ^hivers to the ground, and the royal blood of Edward followed the blow. The monarch reeled, and another stroke would have settled the freedom of Scotland for ever, had not the strong arm of Frere de Briangy passed between Wallace and the swooning king. The combat ihickened: blow followed blow; blood gushed at each iall of the sword ; and the yawning mouths of the hacked armour shewed a grisly wound in every aperture. A hundred weapons seemed directed against the breast of the Regent of Scotland, when, raising his sword with a determined stroke, it cleft the visor and brain of De briangy, and he fell lifeless to the ground. The cry of dismay that issued from the Southron troops at this sight, again nerved the vengeful Edward; and order- ing the signal to be given for his reserve under Bruce, to advance by a circuitous path round the hill, he re- viewed the attack ; and assaulting Wallace with all the ':ury of his heart in his eyes and arms, tore the earth with the trampling of disappointed vengeance, when he found that the invincible phalanx still stood firm. " I will reach him yet I" cried he, and turning to De Va- lence, he commanded that the new artillery should be brought into action. A general blast of all the trumpets in the Southron army blew, and immediately the war- wolfs sent forth showers of red-hot stones into the midst of the Scottish battalions , and, at the same mo- THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 89 ment, the reserve charging round the hill, attacked them in flank, and accomplished what the fiery torrent had begun. The field was heaped with the dead ; the brooks which flowed down the heights, ran with blood ; but no confusion was there ; no, not even in the mind of Wallace, though he was struck with amazement and horror, when he beheld the royal lion of Scotland, the banner of Bruce, lead onv/ard the exterminating division. Scot now contended with Scot, brother with brother. Those valiant spirits who had left their country twenty years before, to accompany their chief to the Holy - Land, now re-entered Scotland to wound her in her vital part; to wrest from her her liberties; to make her mourn in ashes, that she had been the mother of such matricides. A horrid mingling of tartans with tartans, in the direful grasp of reciprocal death ; a tre- mendous hissing of the flaming artillery, which fell amongst the Scottish ranks like blasting lightning, for a moment seemed to make the reason of the patriot Regent stagger. Arrows winged with fire flashed through the air, and sticking in the men and beasts, drove them against each other in maddening pain. Twice was the horse of Wallace shot under him ; and on every side were his closest friends wounded and dispersed. But his terrific horror at the scene passed away almost in the moment of its perception ; and though the Southron and the Bruce pressed on him in overwhelming numbers, his few remaining ranks obeyed his call, and with a presence of mind and mi- litary skill that was exhaustless, he maintained the fight till darkness parted the combatants. When Ed- ward gave command for his troops to cease till morn- ing, Wallace, slowly, and with the residue of his faith- ful band, recrossed the Carron, intending that they should there repose themselves, till the approaching dawn should renew the conflict. Lonely was the sound of his bugle, as sitting on a fragment of the druidical ruins of Dunipacis, he blew its melancholy blast to summon his chieftains around him. — Its penetrating voice pierced the hills; but no answering notes came upon his ear : the leaders of his divisions were slain. — A cold convietion of the re- H 3 90 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS, ality seized upon his heart. But they mii^ht have ftcc^ far distant ! — He blushed as the thought crossed him ; and hopeless ■ again, dropped the horn which he had raised to blow a second summons. At this instant he saw a shadow darken the moon-light ruins, and Scrym- geour, who had gladly heard his commander's bugle hastened forward with a few chieftains of lesser note. " What has been the fate of this dismal day ?" asked Wallace, looking onward as if he expected others still to come up: " Where are my friends? — Where Gra- ham, Badenoch, and Bothweli ? — Where all, brave Scrymgeour that I do not now see ?'* He rose from his seat at sight of another advancing group.-— It ap- proached near, and laid a dead body at his feet. " Thus," cried one of the supporters, in stifled sounds, " has my father proved his love for Scotland !" — It was Murray who spoke ; it was the Earl of Bothweli that lay a breath- less corpse before him ! " Grievous has been the havoc of Scot on Scot T' cried the intrepid Graham, who had valiantly assisted Murray in the, contest for bis father's body ; " Your steadiness, Wallace, would have retrieved the day, but tor the parricide of his country ; that Bruce for whom you refused to be our king, has thus destroyed the flow- .^.r of its sons. Their blood be on his head. Oh, power of justice !" cried he, extending his martial arms to- wards heave>3; " and let his days be troubled, and his death covered with dishonour 1" " My brave friend !'* replied Wallace, " his deeds vill avenge themselves ; he needs not further maledic- :loD. Let us rather turn to bless the remains of him "ix/ho has just gone before us, in glory, to his heavenly j-est ! — Ah ! better is it thus to be laid in the bed of ■lonour, than, by surviving, to witness the calamities vhich the double treason of this day will bring upon our martyred country I — Murray, my friend !'* cried he, to Lord Andrew who, kneeling by his father gazed in silence on his pallid face ; " we must not let the brave dead perish in vain 1 Their monument shall yet be Scotland's liberties." Tears were now coursing each other in mute woe down the cheeks of the affectionate iqh. He coi;ld no^ THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 9h for some time answer Wallace, but he grapsed his hand, and at last rapidly articulated; "Others may have fallen, but not mortally like him. Life may yet be preserved in some of our brave companions. Leave me, then, to mourn over my dead alone I" Wallace saw that filial tenderness yearned for the moment when it might unburthen its grief unchecked by observation. He arose, and making a sign to his friends, withdrew towards his men. Having sent a small detachment to watch at some little distance around the sacred enclosure of Dunipacis, he dispatch- ed Graham on the dangerous duty of seeking a rein- forcement for the morning ; and sending Scrymgeour with a resolute band across the Carron to bring in the wounded, (for the main body of Edward's army had en- camped themselves about a mile south of the field of action;) he took his solitary course along the northern bank towards a shallow ford near which he supposed the squadrons of Lord Loch-awe must have fought, and where he hoped he might gain some accounts of him from some straggling survivor of his clan. When he arrived at the spot where the river is narrowest and winds its still stream beneath impending heights over- hung with hazels and weeping birch, he blew the Camp- bell pibroch : the notes reverbrated from rock to rock, and, unanswered, died away in distant echoes. But still he would not relinquish hope ; and pursuing his course, he emerged on an open glade which lay un- der the full light of the moon. Across the river, at some distance, a division of the Southron tents whiten- ed the deep shadows of the bordering woods ; and be- fore them, on the opposite bank, he thought he descri- ed a warrior walking alone. — Wallace stopped. — The man approached the margin of the stream, and looked towards the Scottish chief — The visor of Wallace be- ing up, discovered his heroic countenance bright in the moon-beams; and the majesty of his mien, seemed to declare him to the Southron knight, to be no other than the Regent of Scotland. " Who art thou ?" cried the warrior, with a voice of command that better became his lipsj than it was adapt- ed to the man to whom he spoke. ^02 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS; "The enemy of lifi^land !" cried the chief. " Thou art Wallace !" was the immediate reply ; " None else dare answer the Lord of Carrick with such a haughty boldness." " Every Scot in this land," returned Wallace, inflam- ed with a vehement indignation he did not attempt to repress; " would thus answer Bruce, not only in refer- ence to England, but to himself I to that Bruce, who, not satisfied with having abandoned his people to their enemies, has stolen like a base fratricide to slay his brethren in their home ! To have met them on the plain of Stanmore, would have been a deed his posteri- ty might have bewailed ; but what horror, what shame will be theirs when they know that he came to ruin his own rights, to stab his people in the very bosom of his country! — lam just come from gazing on the dead body of the virtuous Earl of Bothwell ! The Lords Bute -and Fife, and perhaps Loch-awe, have fallen beneath the Southron sword and your unnatural arm ; and yet do you demand what Scot would dare to tell you that he holds the Earl of Carrick and his coadjutors, as his most mortal foes ?'' " Ambitious man ! Dost thou flatter thyself with the belief that I am to be deceived by thy pompous decla- mation ? I knovr' the motive of all this pretended patriot- ism. — I am well informed of the aim of all this vaunted prowess; and I came, not to fight the battles of King Edward, but to punish the proud usurper of the rights of Bruce. — I have gained my point. — My brave follow- ers slew the Lord Bothwell ; my brave follov/ers made the hitherto invincible Wallace retreat! — I came in the power of my birth-right; and I command you, as your lawful king, this hour to lay down your arms be- fore me. — Obey, proud knight, or the day that puts you into Edward's hands will sec ycu die the death of a traitor." " Unhappy prince ;" cried Wallace, now suspecting that Bruce had been deceived ; " was it over the necks of your most loyal and bleeding subjects, that you would mount your throne ? — How have you been mistaken ! — How have you strengthened the hands of your enemy, and weakened your own, by this day's action I — Tfie THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 93 cause is now probably lost for ever: — and from whom are we to date its ruin, but from him to whom the na- tion looked as to its appointed deliverer ! From him? whose once honoured name will now be regarded with execration 1" "Burthen not my name, rash young man," replied Bruce, " with the charges belonging to your own mad ambition. — Who disturbed the peace in which Scot- land lay after the battle of Dunbar, but William Wal- lace ? Who raised the country in arms but William Wallace ? Who stole from me my birth-right, and fastened the people's love on himself, but William Wallace ? Who affected to repel a crown, that he might the more certainly fix it on his head, but Wil- liam Wallace ? And who dares now taunt me with his errors and mishaps, but the same traitor to his lawful sovereign ?" " Shall I answer thee. Lord of Carrick," replied Wallace, " with a similar appeal ? — Who, when the Southron tyrant preferred a false claim to the supre- macy of this realm, subscribed to the falsehood, and by that action did all in his power to make a free people slaves ? — Who when the brand of cruelty swept this kingdom from shore to shore, lay in luxurious indo- lence in the usurper's court and heard of these oppres- sions of his country without a sigh ? Who, horror on horror ! brought a vast power into his own inheritance, to lay it desolate before his most mortal foe ? — Thy heart will tell thee, Bruce, who is this man ; and if ho- nour yet remain in that iron region, thou will not dis- believe the asseverations of an honest Scot, who de- clares, that it was to save them whom thou didst aban- don, that he appeared in the armies of Scotland. It was to supply the place of thy desertion, that he as- sumed the rule with which a grateful people, rescued from bondage, invested him." " Bold chieftain V* exclaimed Bruce, " is it thus you continue to brave your offended prince ? But in pity to your youth, in admiration of a prowess, which would have been godlike, had it been exerted for your liovereign and not used as a bait to satisfy an ambition as wild as it is towering, I would expostulate with you ;; 94 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. if you yet are not lost to all sober considerations. I would even deign to tell you, that the royal Bruce, in granting the supremacy of Edward, submits, not to the mere wish of a despot, but to the necessity of the times. This is not an era of so great loyalty, that any sovereign may venture to contend against such an impe- rial arm as Edward's. And would you, a boy in years, a novice in politics ; and though brave, and till this day successful, v/ould you pretend to prolong a war with the dictator of kingdoms ? As a Scot, and in the grace of my royal clemency, I warn you against pursu- ing so vain and ruinous an enterprise. If you have sense or reason left, endeavour to bend your inflexible spirit to submit to superior power, superior fortune, and superior rights. Can rational discrimination be united with the valour you possess, and you not per- ceive the unequal contest between a weak state depriv- ed of its head and agitated by intestine commotions, and a mighty nation conducted by the ablest and most martial monarch of his age ? A man, who is not only determined to maintain his pretensions to the supre- macy over Scotland, but is master of every resource, either for protracting the war, or for pushing it with vigour. If the love of your country be indeed your motive for perseverance, your obstinacy tends only to lengthen her misery. But if, as I believe is the case, you carry your views to private aggrandizement, re- flect on their probable issue. Should Edward, by a. miracle withdraw his armies, is it not evident, from recent experience, that so many haughty nobles, proud of the pre-eminence of their families, would never submit to a personal merit whose superiority they would less regard as an object of deference, than as a reproach to themselves. As the general of a King of Scotland, you would be a blessing to your country; as the usurper of its sovereign's rights, you are a curse; for war, foreign and intestine, must fol- low your footsteps till you sink into the grave." " To usurp any man's rights, and least of all, my king's,'* replied Wallace, " never came within the range of my thoughts. Though lowly born, Lord Carrickj I am not so base as to require assumption to THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. $5 give me dignity. I saw my country turned into a gar- rison ; and the miserable inhabitants pillaged, murder- ed, and outraged in every relation that is dear to nian. AVho heard their cry ? — Where was Bruce ? — Where the proud nobles of Scotland ; that none were near to extinguish the flames of the burning villages, to shel- ter the mother and the child, to rescue purity from vi- olation, to defend the bleeding father and son? — The shrieks of despair resounded through the land, and none arose. The hand of violence fell on my own house ! the wife of my bosom was stabbed to the heart by a magistrate of the fell usurper ! 1 then drew the sword 1 — I took pity on those who suffered as I had suffered ; I espoused their cause, and never will I forsake it till life forsake me. Therefore, tliat I became the cham- pion of Scotland, Lord of Carrick, blame not my am- bition, but rather the supineness of the nobility, and chiefly yourself: — You, who uniting personal me- rit to dignity of descent, had deserted the post which both nature and circumstance called upon you to occupy ! — Had the Scots, from the time of Bidiors abdication, possessed such a leader as yourself, (for what is the necessity of the times, but the pusillanimi- ty of those who contend with Edward ?) by your valour and their union, you must have surmounted every diffi- culty under which we now struggle; and might have justly hoped to have closed the contest with success and honour. If you now start from your guilty delusion, it may not be too late to rescue Scotland from the perils which sur- round her. Listen then to my voice, prince of the blood of Alexander ! forswear the tyrant who has cajoled you to this abandonment of your country, and resolve to be her deliverer. Another blow I yet meditate to strike, that this tyrant of the earth shall not return v/ith boasts over the country he betrayed, over the pa- triot band whom his treachery and the treason of March and the two Cummins have brought into this strait. The bravest of the Scots are ready to acknow- ledge you for their lord, to reign as did your forefa- thers, untrammelled by any foreign yoke. Exchange then a base vassalage for freedom and a throne ! Awake to yourself, #ioble Bruce, and behold what it is that I .^6 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. propose ! Heaven itself cannot set a more glorioiu. prize before the eyes of virtue or ambition, than to join in one object the acquisition of royalty, with the maintenance of national independence ! — Such is my last appeal to you. For myself, as I am well convin- ced that the real welfare of my country can never sub- sist with the sacrifice of her liberties, I am determined, as far as in me lies, to prolong, not her miseries, but her integrity, by preserving her from the contamina- tion of slavery. But, should mysterious fate decree her fall, may that power, which knows the vice and horrors which accompany a tyrant's reign, terminate the existence of a people who can no longer preserve their lives but by receiving laws from usurpation.'' The truth and gallantry of these sentiments struck the awakened mind of Bruce with the force of convic- tion. Another auditor was nigh, who also lost not a syllable ; ' and the flame was conveyed from the breast of one hero to that of the other.* Lord Carrick secretly repented of all that he had done, but being too proud to acknowledge as much, he briefly answered — " Wallace, your words have made an impression on me that may one day still more brigh- ten the glory of your fame. Be silent respecting this conference : — Be faithful to the principles you have de- clared, and ere long you shall hear royally of Bruce." As he spoke he turned abruptly away, and was lost amongst the trees. (p> Wallace had stood for some minutes musing on what had passed, when he heard a footstep behind him, and turning round, he beheld a young and ethereal form habited in a white hacqueton wrought with gold, with golden sandals on his feet, and a helmet of the same costly metal on his head crested with white feath- ers. The moment the eyes of Wallace fell on him the stranger threw himself on one knee before him with so noble a grace, that the chief \vas lost in wonder what this beautiful apparition could mean, till the youth, bowing his head, exclaimed, " pardon this intrusion, bravest of men 1 I come to offer to you my heart, my life ! To wash out by your side, in the blood of the enemies of Scotland, the stigma which now dishonor? THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 9/ the name of Bruce 1" " And who are you, noble youth ? cried Wallace, raising him from the ground, " Surely my prayers are at last answered ; and I hear these sentiments from one of Alexander's race 1'* " lam indeed of his blood," replied he, " and it must now be my study to prove my descent by deeds worthv of my ancestor. I am Robert Bruce, the eldest son oi the Earl of Carrick and Annandale. My father, griev- ing over the slaughter that his valiant arm has made of his own people, (although till you taught him other- wise, he believe^ that they fought to maintain the usur pationof an ambitious subject ;) walked out in melan- choly. I followed him at a distance ; and I heard un- seen, all that has passed betv/een you and him. He- has retired to his tent ; and unknt)wn to him I hasten- ed across the Carron to avow my loyalty to virtue, and to declare my determination to live for Scotland, or to die for her ; to follow the arms of Sir William Wallace till he plants my father in the throne of his ancestors." " I take you at your word, brave prince !" replied the Regent, " and this night shall give you an oppor- tunity to redeem to Scotland what your father's sword has this day wrested from her. What I mean to do, must be effected in the course of a few hours. That done, it will be prudent for you to return to the Car- rick camp, and there take the most effectual means to persuade.your father to throw himself at once into the arms of Scotland. The whole nation will then rally round their king, and as his weapon of war, I shall re- joice to fulfil the commission with which God has in- trusted me !" He then briefly unfolded to the eagerly- listening Bruce, (whose aspiring spirit, inflamed by the fervor of youth, and buoyed up by his natural cour- age, saw the glory alone of the enterprise) an attack which he meant immediately to make on the sleeping- camp of Edward, while his victorious troops deemed themselves secure of any chance of disturbance. He had sent Sir John Graham to Stirling to call out its garrison ; and Ker he had dispatched on a similar errand to Dumbarton j and expecting that by this time VOL. II. I 93 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. the troops v/ould be arrived on the southern extremi- ty of the carse, he threw his plaid over the prince's gay apparel, to conceal him from notice, (for a dis- covery of his being in the Scottish camp, might en- danger the life of his father,) and returniiig to his men wliO lay on the northern bank of the river, the Regent ordered one of the yomig soldiers, who seemed parti- cularly fatigued, to give him his armour, as he had a use for it, and then retire to his repose in the adjoin- ing village. The brave Scot, not being aware that his general meditated another attack, cheerfully acqui- esced ; and Wallace retiring amongst the trees with his royal companion, Bruce soon covered his splendid liacqueton v\4th this rough armour, and placing the Scottish bonnet on his head, put a large stone into his golden helmet, and sunk it in the waters of the Car- ron. Being thus completely arm.ed, when Wallace put the trusty claymore of his country into his iiand he clasped him with a soldier's warm embrace to his heart. — " Now it is," cried he, " that William Wallace lives anew, since he has seen this hour !" They re-emerged together from the wood, and met Sir John Graham, who had just arrived with five hun- dred fuc.;itives from Lord Bute's slaughtered division whom he had collected on the Carse. He informed ■ :is friend that the Earl of IVIar was within half a mile of the C^arron, with three thousand men, and that he T*as joined by the garrison from Dumbarton and other reinforcements to a similar amount. While he yet spoke, a squadron of armed mien approaciied from the I'orth side, and Wallace advancing towards them, be- held the Bishop of Dunkeld in his sacerdotal robes at heir head, with a corselet on his breast, and instead r iiis crosier, he carried a drav.n sword; '-'O — « We tT.u. t.) vol-., c'namp^on of Scotland," cried the prelate, - v.'iiU lu ;-:. vers and the arms of the church. The sv/ordo of the Lcvitcs of old smote the enemies of Israel: iWi'.] 1-1 tl-.c s-'.nic faith, tliat the God of justice will go :; ^ ;i3 this nvj^t, we codjc to fight for Sqotland's • li.s." ';?js follovv-ei s c young bretiu'en of the mo- :.v: !c- V ofCairil)'.' .., .h, and other neighboring con- THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 99 vents, altogether making a stout and well-appointed legion. " With this handful," cried Wallace, " heaven-direct- ed we shall yet strike our Goliah on the forehead 1" Lord Mar and Lord Lenox now came up : and Wal- lace, marshalling his train, found that he had nearly ten thousand men. His plan of the attack was immediate- ly given to the different commanders, and placing Bruce with Graham in the van, before he joined them, he retired to the ruins near Dunipacis, 0) to see wheth- er the mourning solitude of Murray had continued un- invaded. The pious youth sat silent and motionless by the side of his dead parent : And Wallace, with- out arousing the violence of grief by any reference to the sight before him, briefly related his project. Lore', Andrew started on his feet ; " I v/ill share all the dan gers of this night ! I shall find comfoi't in again mee: • ing the foe that has thus bereaved me. This dark mantle," cried he, turning towards the breathless corse, and throv/ing his plaid over it, "will shroud thy hai- lovvcd remains till I return.— -I go where thou wouldst. direct me-— Oh, my father 1" suddenly exclaimed he, iu a burst of grief, "the trumpet shall sound, and thou wilt not hear ! — But I go to take vengeance for thy blood 1" So saying he sprung from the place ; and accompeaiyinc Wallace to the plain, took his station in the silent b- swiftly moving army. CHAP. X. .1 HE troops of King Edward lay overpowered with Avine. Elated with victory, they had drank largely, the royal pavilion setting them the example ; for thougb. Edward was temperate, yet to flatter his recovered friends, the inordinate Buchan and Soulis, he had al- lowed a greater excess that night, than he was accus- tomed to sanction. The banquet over, every knight retired to his tent, every soldier to his pallet, and ;r deep sleep' lay upon eycry man. The king hims'-]'" 00 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. whose many thoughts had long kept waking, jiow fell "nto a slumber. Guards had been placed around the camp, moi*e for Px-'.illtary cercniiony than with an idea of its being requi- site. The strength of Wallace, they believed broken for ever, and that they should have nothing to do next iTJorning, but to chase him into Stirling and take him ihere. But the spirit of the Regent ^yas not so easily subdued : He ever thought that it v;as shameful to de- spair v.hile it was possible to succeed. And now lea- ding bis determined followers through the lower ;:i,-rounds of Cumbernauld, he detached half his force under Mar to take the Southron camp in the rear, while he should attack the front, and pierce his way to the royal tent. With soundless caution the battalion of Mar wound round by the banks of the Forth to reach the point of its destination. And Wallace, proceeding with as noise- less a step, gained the hill which overlooked his sleep- ing enemies. Each of his men in front, shrouded by a. branch, which in his march by Tor wood he had torn from the trees, now stood still.-— Without this precau- tion, had any eye looked up, they must have been per- ceived; but as it was, their figures were so blended with the adjoining thickets, that their appearance might ':^asily be mistaken. As the moon, the signal of the at- tack, sunk in the horizon, they stole gently down the Tiill, and scarcely drawing bre-ath, were within a few- paces of the first outpost vv'hen one of the sentinels star- ling from his reclining position, suddenly cried " What is that ?" " Only the wind amongst the trees ;" return- e.d his com.rade, " I see their branches waving. — Let me sleep, for Wallace yet lives, and v/e may have hot work to-morrow." Wallace did live, and the men slept to wake no more, for a Scottish brand was through ev- ery Southron heart on the outpost. That done, he i:hrew away his bough, leaped the narrow dyke which lay in front of the camp, and with Bruce and Graham at the head of a thousand men, cautiously proceeded on- M'ard to reach the pavilion. At the moment when lie should blow his bugle, the divisions he had left with Lennox and Murray and with Lord Mar, were to press forward to gain the same point. ^ THE SCOTTISH CI lOi Still all lay in profound repose ;— and the dauntless Scots, guided by the lamps wliich burnt ra'ound the royal quarters, reached the tent. Wallace liad already laid his hand upon the curtain which was its door whci an armed man with a presented pike demanded, " Whv comes here ?" the Regent's ansv/er laid the intcrroga tor's head at his feet: But the voice had awakened the ever-watchful kinc^; and in one instant perceiving the fate of his guard, he snatched his sword, and calling aloud on his sleeping train, sprung from his couch , and was immediately surrounded by half a score knights, who had started on their feet before Wallace could reach the spot. But short would have been their protection ; they fell before his arm and that of Graham, and left a vacant place ; for Edward had disappeared. Foreseeing, from the prowess of these midnight inva ders, the consequence to his guards, he had made d. timely escape by a passage which he cut for himselt through the canvass of his tent. W^allace perceived that his prize had escaped his hands ; but yet he hoped to drive him altogether from the field ; and immediate- ly sounding his bugle, he caught one of the torches from. the monarch's table, and setting fire to the adjoining drapery, rushed from its blazing volumes to meet his brave colleagues amongst the disordered lines. Gra- ham and his followers, with fire-brands In their handsj threw conflagration into the camp in a thousand direc- tions, and with the fearful war-cries of their country, seemed to assail the terrified enemy from as many points. Men, half dressed, and unarmed, flew out of their tents, upon the pikes of their enemies ; thousands fell without striking a blow ; and they who were sta- tioned nearest the out-posts, panic-struck, betook them selves to flight, and scattered themselves in scared throngs over the amazed plains of Lirdithgow. The king in vain sought to rally his men, and to re- mind them of their late victory. The English alono stood by him ; superstiuori had i^id her petrifying hand on all the rest: — Tne ^['.•sh bjii<^ved tnat a terrible judgii^c .- ^cr.d fuiJeu aj..Li- Lheiv: /or ..;:'pcaring in arms again: :• ir sister pc- pit- ^ a.nd li-.. '-Vc^^r.i.as they des- crie. .r:ikc- bisi.op oi DunkwiU isbuing from the i2 \02 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS, rnists of the river, ancrcharijing on his foaming steed along their flying defiles, could not persuade them- selves that Merlin had not arisen to chastise their obe- dience to the ravager of their country. Every super- stitious, every panic fear, took possession of the half in- toxicated, half dreaming wretches; and falling in bloo- dy and unresisting heaps all around, it was rather a slaughter than a battle. Opposition seemed abandoned excepting where the King of England stood amongst his brave countrymen, and the faithless Scots who had followed the Cummins to the field, and who now fought with the fury of desperation. But where despair, and the madness of v/ine were the impulses which impelled his adversaries, Wallace perceived that steadiness //ould ultimately make them give ground; and Graham having seized some of their v/ar-engines, he directed him to discharge on the Southron phalanx, a shower of those blazing arrows which had wrought such dire ef- fects amongst the Scottish legions. The camp v/as now on fire in every direction : and P.dward, putting all to the hazard of one decisive blow, ordered his men fiercely to charge the as-sailants, and to make at once to the point where, by the light of the ilaming tents, he could perceive the waving plumes of Wallace. With his ponderous mace held terribly in rhe air, the king himself bore down to the shock, and breaking- through the intervening combatants, assaulted ihc chief. The might of ten thousand souls seemed ihen to be in the arm of the Regent of Scotland. The puissant Edv.'-ard wondered at himself Jis he shrunk from oefore his strokes ; as he shuddered at the heroic fierceness of a countenance which seemed more than inortal. Was it indeed the Scottish chieftain ? or some armed angel thait had descended to fight the battles of the oppressed ? — Edward trembled : His mace was struck from his hand ; — but immediately a glittering iaulchion supplied its place, and with recovering pre- sence of mind, and redoubled determination, he renew- ed the combat. At this instant, the young Bruce who, in his humble :Vi'mour, might have been passed by as an enemy to be 'reft to meaner swords, checkiijg the onward speed of THE SCOTTISH CPIIEFS. lOi March, pierced him at once through the heart : " Die, thou disgrace to the name of Scot," cried he, " and •with thy blood wipe off my stains !" His sword now- laid hundreds at his feet; — and while the tempest of death blew around, the groans of the dying, the shrieks of the wounded, and the outcries of those w^ho were perishing in the flames, raised such distraction in the king's ranks, and so great a fear in the minds of the Cum- min clan, that, breaking from the royal line with horri- ble yells of dismay, they fled in all directions after their already fugitive allies. Edward seeing the Earl of March fall, and finding himself wounded in many places, with a backward step received the blows of Wallace ; but that determined chief following up his advantage, made a stroke at his head which threw him astounded into the arms of his followers just as Lincoln aimed his dagger at the back of Wallace, and was sent by the valiant arm of Gra- ham a motionless body to the earth. The Soutnrons ranks closed immediately before their insensible mon- arch, and a contest more desperate than any that had preceded it, took place. Hosts seemed to fall on both, sides ; and at last the Southrons, (having stood thcii ground till Edward was carried far from farther danger,) suddenly wheeling about, fled precipitately towards the east. Wallace pursued them on full charge ; and driv- ing them across the Lowlands of Linlithgow ; learnt from some prisoners he took, that the earl of Carrick had retreated towards the Lothians as soon as tidings of the attack had reached his camp. "Now is your time," said Wallace to Bruce, *'to rejoin your father. Bring him to Scotland";, and a free crown awaits him. Your actions of this night are a pledge to your country of the virtues which will sup- port his throne !" The young warrior throwing off his rugged hauberk, appeared again in his princely gurb ; and embracing the Regent, " If a messenger from myself, or from my fa- ther," said he, " meet you not ut Stirling, you muy be sure that some evil has beiided us; for, if God speecl us, our embassador shall be there to-moprow night. Metunyhile, farewell :" 104 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. Bruce remounted his horse, and spurring over the banks of the Almond, was soon out of sight. The pursuit Wallace stili led ; and pouring his troops through Ettrick Forest; (for now the rising sun shone on those thronging auxiliaries from the adjoining coun- ties, which his provident orders had prepared to turn out on the first appearance of this martial chase ;) he drove the fiying host of England across Tweedaie far into Northumberland ; — and there checking his trium- phant squadrons, returned with abated speed into his own country. Sending off those which belonged to the border castles, he marched leisurely, that his brave sol- diers, v/ho had sustained the weight of the battle, might recover their exhausted strength. At Peebles he was agreeably surprised by the sight of Edwin. Lord Ruthven, though ignorant of the re- commenced hostilities of Edward, had been so impa- tient to resume his duties, that as soon as he was able to move, he set off on his return to Perth. On arriving at Hunting-tower he was told of the treachery of March ; that the Regent had beaten the enemy on the banks of the Carron, and was pursuing him through Ettrick Fo- rest into Northumberland. Ruthven was inadequate to the exertion of following the successful troops; but Edwin, rejoicing at this new victory, would not be de- tained ; and crossing the Forth into Mid-Lothian, sped his eager way until the happy moment when he again found himself by the side of his first and dearest friend. As they continued their route together, Edwin in- quired the events of the past time ; and heard them related with wonder, horror, and gratitude. Grateful for the preservation of Wallace in all these dreadful scenes of carnage, grateful for the rescue of his coun- try from the very jaws of destruction ; for some time he could only clasp his friend's hand with strong emo- tion fervently and often to his heart. The death of his uncle Bothwell made it tremble within him, at the thought of how much severer might have been his de- privation : At last extricating his powers of speech from the spell of contradictory feelings v>^hicn bound them up, he said — " But if my uncle Mar, and our brave friend Graham, were in the last conflict j where are they, that THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 105 I do n6t see them share your victory ? " — " I hope," re- turned Wallace, " that we shall rejoin them in safety at Stirling I Our troops parted in the pursuit; and af- ter having sent back the Lowland chieftains, you see I have none v;ith me now but my own particular follow- ers, and our dear Murray with his." According to the Regent's expectations that he should soon fall in with some of the chasing squadrons, the next morning, on crossing, the Bathgate Hills, he met the returning battalions of Lennox and Lord Mar, and also Sir John Graham's. Lord Lennox was thanked by Wallace for his good services ; and immediately dis- patched to re-occupy his jurisdiction over Dumbarton. But the captains of Mar and of Graham could give no other account of their leaders, than that they last saw them fighting valiantly in the Southron camp ; and had since supposed that when the pursuit sounded, they had joined the Regent's squadron. A cold dew fell over the limbs of Wallace at these tidings : He looked on Murray and on Edwin. The expression of the former's face told him what were his fears ; -but Edwin, ever sanguine, strove to encourage him with the hope that all might yet be well. " They may not have yet return- ed from the pursuit ; and most likely are in the Bishop of Dunkeld's company, as he is not here I Or they may have arrived, and gone into Stirling I" But these comfortings were soon dispelled by the appearance of Lord Riithven himself, (who having been apprized of the Regent's approach) came forth to meet liim. The pleasure of seeing the Earl so far recover- ed as to have been enabled to leave Hunting-tower, was checked by the first glance of his face on which was deeply characterized some tale of grief. Edwin thought that it was the recent disasters of Scotland he mourned, and with a cheering voice he exclaimed, — " Courage, my father ! our Regent again comes a conqueror 1 Ed- ward has once -more recrossed the plains of Northum- berland 1" " Thanks be to God, for that !" replied Ruthven ; " but, my dear son, what has not these last conflicts cost our country ? Lord Mar is wounded unto death ; and lies in a chamber next to the yet unburicd corses 1.06 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. of Lord Bute and the dauntless Graham." — Wallace turned deadly pale, a mist passed over his eyes, and staggering, he breathlessly supported himself on the arm of Edwin. Murray looked on him; but all was still in his heart : his ov/n beloved father had fallen, and in that stroke fate seemed to have emptied all her quiver. " Lead me to the spot I'* cried Wallace ; •' shew me where my friends lie ; and let me hear the last prayer for Scotland, from the lips of the bravest of her veter- ans 1" Ruthven turned the head of his horse ; and as he rode along, he informed the Regent, that Edwin had not left Hunting-tower for the Forth half an hour, when an express arrived there from Falkirk. By it he learnt, | that as soon as the inhabitants of Stirling saw the fire of the Southron camp, they had hastened thither in crowds to enjoy the spectacle. Some, bolder than the rest, entered its deserted confines, (for the retreating squadrons were then flying over the pla.in,) and amidst the dreadful slaughter-house they thought they distin- guished groans. Whether friend or foe, they stooped to render assistance to the sufferer, and soon found it to be Lord Mar. He begged to be carried to some shelter, that he might see his wife and daughter before he died. The people drew him out from under his horse and a mangled heap, where he had lain pierced with wounds and crushed almost to death. He was conveyed to Falkirk as the nearest place, and lodged with the friars in the convent. " A messenger was in- stantly dispatched to me ;" continued Ruthven, '* and indifferent to all personal considerations, when so sum- moned, I set out immediately. I saw my dying brother- in-law. At his request, that others might not suffer, by neglect, what he had endured under the pressure of the slain, the field had been sought for the wounded. Many were conveyed into the neighbouring houses; and the dead were consigned to the earth. Deep has been dug the graves of mingled Scot and English on the banks of the Carron. Many of our fallen nobles, amongst whom was the princely Badcnoch, hn,vc been conveyed to the cemetery of their ancestors ire * THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 107 entombed in the church of Falkirk : But the bodies of Sir John Graham and my brother Bothwell," said he, in a loafer tone, " I have retained till you return." — " You have done right," replied Wallace, and spurring forward, in a few minutes he ascended the hill of Fal- kirk, and soon after entered the monastery where the Earl of Mar lay. He stopped before the cell which contained the dyinc; nobleman, and desired the Abbot to apprize the Earl of his arrival. The sound of that voice, whose heart- consoling tones could be matched by none other on earth, penetrated to the ear of his almost insensible friend. Mar started from his pillow, and Wallace, through the half open door, heard him say — " Let him come in, Joanna ! All mv mortal hopes now hang on him.'' Wallace instantly stepped forvvPird, and beheld the veteran stretched on a couch, the image of that death to Avhich he was so rapidly approaching. He hastened to- wards him ; and the dying man, who found friendship, and the hopes which stili agitated him, give to his de- bilitated nerves a momentary revival, astretched fortli his arms, and exclaimed,-—" Come to me Wallace, my son : the only hope of Scotland, the only human trust of this anxious paternal heart 1" Wallace threw himself on his knees beside him, and taking his hand, pressed it in speechless anguish to his lips; every present grief was then weighing on his soul, and denied him the power of utterance. Lady Mar sat by the piiiow of lier husband ; but she bore no marks of the sorrow which convulsed the frame of Wallace. She looked serious ; but her cheek wore its freshest bloom. She spoke not ; and the veteran allowed the tears of evifceblcd aature to fall on the bent head of his friend. " Mourn not for me ;" cried he, " nor think that these are regretful drops. I have died as I have wished, in the field of battle for Scotland. Time must have soon laid my grey hairs ignobly in the gi^ive ; and to enter it thus, covered with honourable wounds, is glory ; — and it has long been my prayer 1 But, dearest, most unwearied of friends 1 Siili the tears of mortality ■^vin flow, for I leave my chiidre'.i fatherless in thi.-; .OS THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. ^. faithless world — And my Helen 1 Oh, Wallace, the angel who exposed her precious self through the dan- gers of that midnight walk, to save Scotland,' her fa- ther, and his friend, is lost to me ! Joanna, tell the rest," said he gasping, " for I cannot.'* Wallace turned to Lady Mar with an inquiring look ©f such wild horror, that she found her tongue cleave to the roof of her mouth, and her complexion faded into the pallidness of his. " Surely," exclaimed he, " there is not to be a wreck of all that is estimable on earth ? The Lady Helen is not dead ?" — " No ;" said the Earl, a but — " he could proceed no farther, and Lady Mar forced herself to speak. — " She has fallen into the hands of the enemy. My lord, on being brought to this place, sent for myself and Lady Helen ; we obeyed his sum- mons ; but in passing by Dunipacis a squadron issued from behind the mound, and putting our attendants to flight, seized Helen. I escaped hither. The reason of this attack was explained an hour afterwards by one of the Southrons, who having been wounded by cur es- cort, ai>d incapacitated from following his comrades, was taken and brought to Falkirk. He said, that Lord Aymer de Valence having been sent by his beset mon- arch to call Lord Carrick to his assistance, found the Bruce's camp deserted ; but a confidant of his bringing him information that he had overheard some men v/ho •\veve going to bring Lady Helen to Falkirk, he imme- diately stationed himself in ambuscade behind Dunipa- cis, and springing out as soon as our cavalcade was in view, seized her. She obtained, the rest were allowed lo escape. And, it seems, by what Lord Mar has lately told me, thatDe Valence loved Helen ; hence I cannot doubt that he will have Iwnour enough not to insult the fame of her family, but to make her his wife." " God forbid 1" ejaculated Mar, holding up his trem- bling hands, " God forbid that my blood should ever mingle with that of any one of the people who have wrought such woe to Scotland : Swear to me, valiant Wallace, by the virtues of her virgin heart, by your own immaculate honour, that you will rescue my Helen from the power of this Southron lord 1" THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 109 •* So help me Heaven l" answered Wallace, looking^ steadfastly upwards. A groan burst from the lips of Lady Mar, and her head sunk on the side of the couch. — " What ? — Who is that ?'* exclaimed Mar, starting. a little from his pillow. " Believe it your country, Donald \" replied she, " to what do you bind its onty defender ? Are you not throwing him into the very cen- tre of his enemies, by making him swear to rescue He- len ? Think you that De Valence will not foresee a pursuit, and take her into the heart of England ? And thither must our Regent follow him ! — Oh, my lord, re- tract your demand 1 Release Sir William Wallace from a- vow that will destroy him 1" — " Wallace !" cried the now soul -struck Earl, " W^hat have I dt)ne ? Has a father's anxiety asked of you amiss ? If so, pardon me I But if my daughter also must be sacrificed for Scotland, take her, O God ! uncontaminated, and let us meet in heaven ! Wallace, I dare not accept your vow " " But I will fulfil it," cried he. " Let thy paternal heart rest in peace ; and by Jesus' help. Lady Helen shall again be in her own country as free from Southron taint, as she is from all mortal sins ! De Valence dare not approach her heavenly innocence with violence ; and her faithful Scottish heart will never consent to give him a lawful claim to her precious self. Edward's legions are far •beyond the borders ; but yet I will reach him ; for the demands of the morning at Falkirk, are now to be an- swered in the halls of Stirling." Lord Ruthven, followed by Edwin and Murray, en- tered the room. — The two nephews held each a hand of their dying uncle in theirs, when Lady Ruthven, who, exhausted with fatigue and anxiety, had retired about an hour before to take some rest, appeared at the door of the apartment. She had been informed of the arrival of the Regent with her son, and she now hastened to give them a sorrowful welcome. — " Ah, my lord !'* cri- ed she, as Wallace pressed her matron cheek to his; *' this is not as your triumphs are wont to be greeted i You are still a conqueror; and yet death, dreadful death, lies all around us ! And our Helen too !" " Shall be restored to you," returned he. " What is yet left for me to do, shall be done ; and then——" he paused VOL. II. X €J. n6 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. iind added, " The time is not far distant, Lady Kuthven., when we shall all meet in the realms to which so many of our dear£st friends have hastened." Edwin with swimming eyes drew towards his master. — " My uncle would sleep," said he, "he is exhausted, and will recall us when he awgikes from his rest." The ryes of the veteran were at that moment closed with lieavy slumber. And Lady Ruthven remaining with the Countess to watch by him, Wallace led the way, and Ruthven, with the two young men, followed him out of the room. Lord Loch-awe, with the Bishop of Dunkeld, and other nobles, lay in different cells, pierced with many wounds, but not so grievous as those of Lord Mar.— Wallace visited them all. And having gone through the numerous places in the neighbourhood which were filled with his wounded men, at the glooming of eve- ning he returned to Falkirk. Edwin, he sent forward to inquire after the repose of his uncle ; and on re- entering the monastery himself, he requested the ab- bot who met him, to conduct him to the apartment where lay the remains of Sir John Graham. The fa- ther obeyed, and leading him along a dark passage, opened a door and discovered the slain hero lying on a bier covered with a shroud. Two monks sat at his head, with tapers in their hands. Wallace, on enter- ing, waved them to withdraw ; they set down the lights, and obeyed. He stood for some time with clasped hands, looking intently on the body as it lay extended before him. " Graham ! Graham!" cried he at last, in a voice of un- utterable grief, " dost thou not rise at thy general's voice ? Oh I Is this to be the tidings I am to send to the brave father that intrusted to me his son ? Lost in the prime of youth, in the opening of thy renown, is it thus that all W'hich is good is to be martyrized by the ene- mies of Scotland ?'' He sunk gradually on his kness beside him. — " And shall I not look once more on that face," said he, " which ever turned towards mine with looks of faith and love?" The shroud was drawn down by his hand. He started on his feet at the sight. The changing touch of death had altered every feature.; SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 1 1 i and deepened the paleness of the bloodless corse into fiu ashy hue. " Where is the countenance of my friend 1" cried he, " ^\■here the spirit which once mov.ed in beauty and animating light over this face ? — Gone ; and all I see before me is a mass of moulded clay. Graham 1 Graham 1" cried he, looking upwards, "thou art not here. No more can I recognise my friend in this de- serted habitation of thy soul. Thine own proper self, thine immortal spirit, is ascended up above; and there my fond remembrance shall ever sock thee 1" Again h€ knelt; but it was in devotion; a devotion which drew the sting from death, and opened to his view the victory of the Lord of Life over the king of terrors. Edwin having learnt from his father that Lord Mar still slept, and being told by the Abbot where the Regent was, followed him to the consecrated chamber. On entering, he perceived him kneeling in prayer over the body of his friend. Edwin drew near. — He loved the brave Graham, and he almost adored Wallace. The scene, therefore, smote upon his heart. — He drop- ped down by the side of the Regent ; and throwing his arms around his neck, in a convulsive voice exclaimed, ^ Our friend is gone — but I yet live, and only in your smiles, my friend and ])rother 1'* Wallace strained him to his breast : he was silent for some minutes ; and then said, " To every dispensation of God I am re- signed, my Edwin. While I bow to this stroke, I ac- knowledge the blessing 1 still hold in you and Murray. But, did we not feel these visitations from our Maker, they v/ould not be decreed us. To bcliold the deail, is the penalty of man for sin ; for more pain is it to Avit- ness and to occasion death, than for ourselves to die. I': is also a lesson which Cxod teaches his sons; and in the moment that he shews us death, he convinces us of im mortality. Look on that face, Edwin 1" continued he. turning his eyes on the breathless clay. His youthfw] auditor, awe-struck, and with the tears which were fiow ing from his eyes, checked by the solemnity of this ad ■ •dress, looked as he directed him ; " Doth not that inan- imate mould of earth testify that nothing less than an immortal spirit could have lit up its marble substance to the life and godlike actions -vye h^\t seen it perform V J 12 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. "Edwin shiuldered ; and Wallace, letting the shroud tali over the face, said, " Never more will I look at it; for A no longer wears the characters of my friend : they *re pictured on my soul. And himself, my Edwin, still effulgent in beauty, and glowing with life, looks down on us from heaven 1" He rose as he spoke, and open- ing the door, the monks re-entered ; and placing them- selves at the head of the bier, chanted forth the vesper requiem. When it was ended, Wallace kissed the -licilix they laid on his friend's breast, and left the cjell. CHAP. XL Mo eye closed that night in the monastery of Fal« kirk. The Earl of Mar, who awaked about the twelfth hour, sent to call Lord Ruthven, Sir William Wallace, and his nephews, to attend him. As they approached^ the priests, who had just anointed his dying head with ,he sacred unction, drew back. The Countess and Lady Ruthven supported his pillov/. He smiled as he iveard the advancing steps of those so dear to him. " I send for you," said he, " to give ycKi the blessing of a *rue Scot and a christian ! May all who are here in ihy blessed presence. Father of Righteousness," cried he, looking up with a supernatural brightness in his eye ; " die as I do, rather than live to see Scotland en- slaved ! But rather may they live under that liberty, nerpetua.ted, which Wallace has again given to his coun- try : peaceful will then be their last moments on earth, and full of joy their entrance into heaven I" Hi» eyes dosed as the concluding word died upon his tongue. Lady Ruthven looked intently on him : s-he bent her face to feel if he breathed ; and then starting, with a feeble cry, fell back in a swoon. The soul of the veteran Earl was indeed fled. The Countess was taken shrieking out of the apartment: bu,t Wallace, Edwin, and Murray, remained kneeling around the corse. Anthems for the departed were now raised over the body ; and the priests throwing over it a cloud of incense, the mourners withdrew, and separa- ted to their chambers. THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 113 By day-break next morning*, Wallace, who had never •>lcpt, met Murray by appointment in the cloisters. The remains of his beloved lather had been discovered at Dunipacis by the detachment sent out by the dying- Mar to bring in the wounded: and being carried to the con- vent, Murray now prepared to take them to Bothwell Castle, there to be interred in the cemetery of his an- c«stors. Wallace who had approved his design, enter- ed with him into the solitary court-yard where the w^ar- carriage stood which was to convey the deceased Earl to Clydesdale. A party of his men brought the sacred corse of their lord from his cell, and laid him on his martial bier. His bed was the sweet heather of Fal- kirk, spread on the rugged couch by the hands of his son. As Wallace laid the venerable chieftain's sword and helmet on his bier, he covered the whole with a flag which he had taken from the standard of England^ seized in the last victory. " Only this shroud is worthy of thy virtues !" cried he, " dying for Scotland, thus let the memorial of her glory, be the witness of thine T' *' Oh ! my friend," answered Murray, looking on him with a smile, which beamed the fairer, shining through sorrov/, " thy gracious spirit can divest even death of its gloom ! — 'My father yet lives in his fame 1" The solemn procession, v/ith Murray at its head, moved away towards the heights of Clydesdale ; and Wallace returned to his chamber. Two hours before noon, he was summoned to the chapel of the monaste- ry to see the Earl of Bute, and his dearer friend, laid in their tombs-- With a spirit that did not murmur, he saw the earth closed over both graves : but at Gra- ham's he lingered ; and when the large funeral stone shut even the sod that covered him from his eyes, — with his sword's point he drew on the surface these me- morable words : " Mente manuque potens, et Walli fidus Achates, Conditus hie Gramus, hello interfectus ah Anglis."(s) While he yet leaned on the stone which gently gave Vr ay to the registering pen of friendship, a monk ap- m'oached him attended by a Scottish youth. Wallace . k2 114 THE SCOTTISH QlfiEFS. turned round at the sound of their steps. "This « young man," said the father, " brings dispatches to tlie Lord Regent." Wallace rose ; arid the youth bow- ing, presented to him a packet. — Approaching the light, he broke the seal, arid read to this effect : " The messenger who takes this is a simple border shepherd ; he knows not who gave him the packet ; neither is he acquainted that it is of farther importance than to solicit your exertions for the exchange of priso- ners in the hands of the Southrons : therefore, when you have read it, dismiss him with what reward you please ; but he can bring me no answer. " My father and myself are in the castle of Durham, and both under an arrest ; in which situation we shall remain till our arrival in London renders its sovereign in opinion more secure. You are not less his priso- ner than ourselves, though his conqueror, and appar- ently free. The gold of Edward has found its way in- to the hearts of your councils. Beware of them who with patriotism in their mouths, are purchased to be- tray you and their country into the hands of your ene- my 1 True&t, noblest, best of Scots, farewell ! I must not write I'fiore explicitly." Wallace closed the packet ; and putting his purse into the siiepherd's hand, left the chapel. Ruthven met him in the cloisters. He had just returned from Stirling, whither he had gone early in the morning to inform the lords there of the arrival of the Regent. ^' When I summoned them to the council-hall,*' said Ruthven, " and informed them that you had not only defeated Edward on the Carron but had driven him over the borders, and so had gained a double victory over a foreign usurper and domestic traitors ; instead of the usual gratulations at such tidings, a low whis- per murmured through the hall ; and the young Bade- noch rising from his seat, gave utterance to so many invectives against the assassin of his father, as he chose to call you, that I should deem it treason to your sa- cred person even to repeat them. But, suffice it to say, that out of above five hundred chieftains who were pres- ent, not one of those parasites who used to fawn on you a week ago, and make the love of iionest men seem THJE SCOTTISH CHIEFS, i 15 doubtfal, now breathes one word for Sir William Wal- lace. But this ingratitude, vile as it was, I bore with pa- tience, till Badenoch, growing ininsolency declared that late last night, Sir Alexander Ramsay had arrived with dispatches from the King of France to the Regent ; and that he, assuming to himself, in right of his birth, that dignity, had put Sir Alexander under confine- ment in the Keep, for having dared to dispute his au- thority and determination to withhold them altogether from your view.*' " I will release Ramsay ;" replied Wallace, " and meet these violent men. But it must be alone, my dear lord ;" continued he, " you and my chieftains may wait my return at the city gates ; but the sword of Ed- ward, if need be, shall defend me against his gold." — As he spoke he laid his hand on the jewelled weapon which hung at his side, and which he had wrested from that monarch in the last conflict. Aware that this treason aimed at him, would strike his country, unless timely warded off, he took his reso- lution ; and requesting Ruthven not to communicate to any one what had passed, he mounted his horse, and struck into the road to Stirling. He took the plume from his crest, and closing his visor, enveloped himself in his plaid, that as he went along the people might not know him. But at the door of the Keep, «r^sting away his cloak, and unclasping his helmet, he entered the council-hall openly and abruptly. By an instantaneous impulse of respect, which even the base pay to virtue, almost every man arose at his appearance. He bowed to the assembly, and walked with a compos- ed but severe air up to his station, as Regent, at the head of the room. Young Badenoch stood there ; and as Wallace approached, he fiercely grasped his sword, and said, — " Proud upstart ! Betrayer of my father! set a foot further towards this chair, and the chastise- ment of every arm in this council shall fail on you for your presumption 1'^ " It is not in the arms of thousands to put me from my right,'* replied Wallace, calmly putting forth his hand, and drawing the Regent's chair towards him. ^' Will ye bear this ?" cried Badenoch, stamping with 1 16 THE SCOTTISH CHIEl^S. his foot, and dashing out his sword ; " is the man lo exist who thus braves the assembled lords of Scothmd?" As he spoke, he made a desperate lunge at him : Wal- lace caught the blade in his hands, and wrenching it from his intemperate adversary, broke it into shivers, and cast the pieces down at his feet ; then turning reso- lutely towards the chieftains, who stood looking appalled on each other, he said, " I, your duly elected Regent,left you only a few days ago, to repel the enemy, whom the treason of Lord March would have introduced to these very walls. Many brave chieftains followed me : and n>ore, whom I see now, loa.ded me, as I passed from the gates, with benedictions. The late lord Badenoch stood his ground like a true Scot ; but Athol and Bu- chan deserted to Edward. Young lord," said he, ad- dressing the furious Badenoch, who stood gnashing his- teeth in impotent rage, and listening to the inflaming whispers of Macdougal of Lorn ; " from their treachery date the fall of your brave father, and the whole of our grievous loss of that day. Bat the deaths of all I have avenged : more than chief for chief have perish- ed in the Southron ranks, and thousands of the meaner sort now swell the banks of Carron. Edward himself fell wounded beneath niy arm ; and was taken by his liy- ing squadrons, far over the wastes of Northumberland. Thus then have I returned to you, with my duties achieved in a manner worthy of your Regent ! — And what means the arrest of my embassador? what this si- lence, when the representative of your pov*'er is thus insulted to your face ?" "They mean," cried Badenoch, "that my words are the utterance of their sentiments." — " they mean," cried Lorn, " that the prowess of the haughty boaster, whom their intoxicated gratitude has raised from the dust, shall not avail him against the indignation of a na- tion over which he dares to arrogate a right. | " Mean they what they will ;" returned Wallace^ " they cannot dispossess me of the rights with which the assembled kingdom of Scotland invested me on the plains of Stirling. — And again 1 demand, by what au- thority do you and they presume to imprison ray off- THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. llY cer, and withhold from me the papers sent by king Philip to the Regent of Scotland ?'* " By an authority that we will maintain ;" replied Ba- clenoch; "by the right of my royal blood ; and by the sword of every brave Scot who spurns at the name of William Wallace !" " And as a proof that we speak not more than we will act," cried Lorn, making a sign to some of the boldest chieftains; " your are our pri- soner!" Several weapons were unsheathed at that moment, and their bearers hurried towards the side of Badenoch and Lorn, who attempted to lay hands on Wallace ; but he, drawing the broad sword of Edward, with a sweep of his valiant arm, which made the glitter- ing blade seem a brand of fire, he set his back against the v/all, and exclaimed — " He that first makes a stroke at me shall find his death on this Southron steel 1 — This sword I made the puissant arm of Edward yield to me ; and this sword shall defend the Regent of Scotland against his ungrateful countrymen 1" The chieftains who pressed on him, recoiled at thes6 words; but their leaders, Badenoch and Lorn, waved them forward with vehement exhortations : — " Desist, young men!" continued he, " and provoke me not be- yond my bearing. In one moment, with a single blast of my bugle, I could surround this building with a band of warriors, who, at the first sight of their chief being thus assaulted, v/ould lay you a breathless corpse at their feet. — Let me pass, then, or abide the conse- quence !" "Through my breast you must mr.ke your way ;" exclaimed Badenoch, " for with my consent you pass not here but upon your bier. What is in the arm of a single man," cried he to the lords, " that ye cannot fall on him at once, and cut him down." " I would not hurt the son of the virtuous Badenoch ;" returned Wallace, "but his life be on your heads," said he, turning to the chieftains, " if one of you point a sword to impede my passage." " And wilt thou dare it? usurper of my power and honours 1" cried Badenoch, " Lorn, stand by your friend : — all here who are true to the Cummin and Macdougal, hem in the tyraut." 118 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. Many a traitor hand now drew forth its dagger ; and the intemperate Badenoch, drunk with choler and mad ambition, made aiiother violent plunge at Wallace with a sword he had snatched from one of his accomplices: But its metal, less approved than that which Wallace held, flew in splinters on the guar^ stroke of the Re- gent, and left Badenoch at his mercy. " Defend me, chieftains, or I am slain !'' cried he. But Wallace did not let his hand follow its advantage : with the dignity of his own conscious desert he turned away, and ex- claimed while he threw the enraged Lorn from him— " That arm will wither which dares to point its steel at' me." — The pressing crovvd, struck in astonishment, parted before him as they would have done in the path of a thunderbolt, and, unimpeded, he passed to the door. That their Regent had entered the Keep, was soon rumoured through the city ; and when he appeared from the gate, he was hailed by the acclamations of the people. Again he found his empire in the hearts of the lowiy: they whom he had restored to their cotta- ges, knelt to him in the streets, and called for blessings on his name ; while they, — Oh ! blasting touch of en- vy ! — whom he had restored to castles, and had elevated from a state of vassalage to the power of princes, raised against him that very power, to lay him in the dust. Now it was, that when suvrounded by the grateful citizens of Stirling, whom it v/ould have been as easy for him to have inflamed to the massacre of Badenoch and his council, as to have lifted his bugle to his lips, — that he blew the summons for his chieftains. Every !nan in the Keep now Hew to arms, expecting that W^al- lace was returning upon them with the host he threat- ened. In a few minutes the Lord Ruthven with his brave follov/ers entered the inner ballium gate. Wal- lace smiled proudly as they drew near. — '» My lords,'* said he, " you come to witness the last act of my dele- gated power! Sir Alexander.Scrymgeour, enter into that hail, which was once the scat of council, and tell the violent men who fill it, that for the sake of the peace «f Scotland, which I value more than my life, I allow thcRi to stand urtt>unishcd of the offence asrainst me. THE^SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 119 But the outrage they have committed on the freedom of one of her bravest sons, I will not pardon, unless he be immediately set at liberty: let them deliver to you Sir Alexander Ramsay, and then I permit them to hear my final decision. If they refuse obedience, they are all my prisoners, and but for my pity for their blindness, should perish by the laws." Scrymgeour, eager to open tlie prison doors of his friend Ramsay, and little suspecting to what he was calling the insurgents, hastened to obey. Lorn and Badenoch gave him a very rough reception ; and utter- ed such a rebellious defiance of the Regent and his power, that the brave standard-bearer lost all patience, and denounced the immediate deaths of the whole re- fractory assembly. " The court-yard," cried he, " is armed with thousands of the Regent's followers ; his foot therefore is on your necks ; obey, or this will be a more grievous day for Scotland than that of Falkirk, for the Castle of Stirling will run with Scottish blood 1" Badenoch only became more enraged at this menace ; and Scrymgeour sending a messenger privately to tell the result to Wallace. The Regent placed himself at the head of twenty men, and re-entering the Keep, made direct to the warder, and ordering him on pain of death to deliver to him Sir Alexander Ramsay ; he was obeyed, and Wallace, with his recovered chieftain, re- turned to the platform. Scrymgeour soon being appriz- ed that the knight was at liberty, turned to Badenoch, with whom he was still contending in furious argument ; and said — " Will you, or will you not attend me to the Regent to hear your hnal sentence ? He of you all," added he, addressing the chieftains, " vA^o in this sim- ple duty disobeys, will receive the severer doom." Badenoch and Lorn both affected to laugh at this menace, and replied, that they would not for an empire do the usurper the homage of a moment's voluntary attention, but if any of their followers choose to view the mockery, they were 'at liberty. A very few, and those of the least turbulent spirits, ventured forth : they began to fear that they had embarked in a desperate caysej and by their acquiescence, they were willing to UO THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. deprecate the wrath of Wallace, while they should es.- cape exciting the resentment of Badenoch. When Wallace looked around him, and saw the plain before the Keep, to the ballium wall, filled with armed men and citizens, he mounted an elevated piece of ground which rose a little to the left, and waving his hand in token that he intended to speak, a profound si- lence to0k place of the buzz of admiration and grati- tude. He then addressed the people by the names of " Brother soldiers ! Friends ! And am 1 so to distin- guish Scots ? Enemies !" At this word, a loud cry of ," Perish all who are the enemies of our glorious Re- gent !*' shook the foundation of the Keep to its centre. Badenoch, believing that the few of his partisans who had ventured out, were falling under the vengeance of Wallace, with a brandished weapon, and followed by the rest, sallied towards the door: but there he stop- ped, for he saw his friends standing unmolested. Wallace proceeded, and narrated the hatred that was now poured upon him by a large part of that nobility which had been socager to invest him with the dignity he then held; — "Though they have broken their oaths," cried he, "I have fulfilled mine! They vowed to me all lawful obedience : I swore to free Scotland or to die. God has enabled me so to do. Every castle in this kingdom is restored to its ancient lord : every fortress is filled with a native garrison : the sea is covered with our ships : and the kingdom, one in itself, sits secure behind her well defended bulwarks. Such have I, through the strength of the Almi.^hty-arm, made Scot- land ! — Beloved by a grateful people, I could wield half her power to the destruction of the rest, but I would not pluck one stone out of the building I have raised. To-day I deliver up my commission, since its design is accomplished. I resign the regency.'* As ht spoke he took off his helmet, and stood uncovered before the people. " No, no !" resounded from every lip, " be our prince and king 1 We will acknowledge no other pow- er, we will obey no other leader !" Wallace expressed his sense of their attachment, but repeating to them that he had fulfilled the end of TkE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 121 his office by setting them free, he explained that his retaining it was no longel' necessary. — " Should I re- main your Regent," continued he, " the country would be involved in ruinous dissentions. The majority of your nobles find a vice in the virtue they once extol < led ; and seeing its power no longer needful, even now seek to destroy my upholders with myself I there- fore remove the cause of contention. I quit the re- gency, and I bequeath your liberty to the Ci' of your chieftains. But should it be again in dan^^.r, remem- ber, that while life breathes in this heart, the spirit of Wallace will be with you still 1" With these words, he descended the mound, and mounted his horse amidst the cries and tears of the populace. — They clung to his garments as he rode along; and the women, with their children in their arms, throwing themselves on their knees in his path, implored him not to leave them to the ini-oads of a ra- vager ; or to the tyranny of their own lords, who un- restrained by a king or a regent like himself, would soon subvert his good laws, and reign despots over every district in the country. Wallace replied to their entreaties with the language of encouragement; and adding, that he was not their prince, to lawfully main- tain a disputed power over the legitimate chieftains of the land, he said, " but a rightful sovereign may yet be yielded to your prayers ; and to procure that bles- sing, daughters of Scotland, night and day invoke the giver of every good and perfect gift." When Wallace and his weeping train stopped to se- parate at the foot of Falkirk Hill, he was met by Ker and his brave Lanarkers, who, having heard of what had passed in the citadel, advanced towards him to declare with one voice, that they never would fight under any other commander. " Wherever you are,'* returned Wallace, " my faith Tul friends, you shall still obey my word.'* This assurance quieted their fears that he was going to consign them over to the turbulent lowls in the castle. But when he entered the monastery, the opposition that was made to his resignation of the re- gency, by the Bishop of Dunkeld, Loch-awe, and oth- ers, was so vehement, so persuasive, that had not VOL. TI, T, 122 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. Wallace been steadily principled not to involve his country in domestic war, he must have yielded, if not to their reasoning, to the affectionate eloquence of their pleading. But seeing the public danger attendant on his provoking the wild ambition of the Cummins and their clamorous adherents; with arguments, which their sober judgment saw conclusive, he at last ended the debate, saying " I have yet to perform my vow to our lamented friend. I shall seek his daughter, and then, my brave companions, you shall hear of me and see me aerain I" CHAP. XII. It being Lady Ruth ven's wish that the remains of her brother should be entombed with his ancestors, prepa- rations were made for the mournful cavalcade to set forth the next morning tov/ards Braemar Castle. The Countess, supposing that Wallace would accompany .them, did not object to this proposal, which Lady Ruthven enforced with Roods of tears. Had any one seen the two, and been called upon to judge by their deportment, of the relationship in which each lady stood to the deceased, he must have decided that the sister was the widow. Lr.dy Mar, at the moment of her hvisband's death, had felt a shock, but it was not that of sorrow for her loss : she had long looked for- Tivard to this event, as to the seal of her happiness: it was the sight of mortality that appalled her. The man she now doted on, nay, even herself, would one day lie as he — dead ! iniiensible to all earthly joys or pains ! but awake, perlmps fearfully awake, to the judgments of another world ! This conviction caused her shrieks when she saw him expire. But the im- pression was evanescent. Every obstacle between her and Wallace, she now believed removed Her hus- band was dead : Helen was carried away by a man de- votedly enamoured of her, and most probably was at that time his wife. The spectres of conscience pas- sed from her eyes, she no longer thought of death THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 123 and judgment ; and entirely estranging herself from the bier of her husband, under an excuse that her feelings could not bear the sight, she determined to seclude herself in iier own chamber for a day or two, till the freshness of Wallace's grief for his friend should also pass away. But when she heard from the indignant Edwin, of the rebellious conduct of her kinsman, the young Lord Badonoch, and that the consequence was, the Regent's abdication of his dignity, her consterna- tion superseded all caution, and rising from her chair in a horror of disappointment, she comman^'ed Edwin to send Wallace to her. " I will soon humble this proud boy \" exclaimed she " and let him know, that in opposing the elevation of Sir William Wallace, he treads down his own interest. You are beloved by the Regent, Edwin 1" cried she, interrupting herself, and turning to him with one of her most persuasive looks, *' teach his enthusiastic heart the true interests of his country! — I am the first woman of the blood of Cum- min; and is not that faiiiily the most^^^ powerful in the kingdom? By the adherence of one branch to Edward, the battle of Falkirk was lost; by the rebellion of an- other, the Regent of Scotland is obliged to relinquish that dignity ! It is in my power, at any moment, to move the whole race to my will : and if Wallace would mingle his blood with theirs, would espouse me, (an overture which the love I bear my country impells me to make,) every nerve would tlien be strained to pro- mote the elevation of their nearest kinswoman — Wal- lace would reign in Scotland, and the whole land lie at peace." Edwin eyed her with as-tonishment as she spoke. All her late conduct to his cousin Helen, to his uncle, and to Wallace, was now explained; and he saw in her flushed cheek, that it was not the patriot who de- sired this match, but the enamoured woman. " You do not answer me ?" said s^iie, " Have you any apprehension that Sir William Wallace would reject the hand that would give him a crown ? that would dis- pense happiness to so many thousand people ?" " No;" replied he, " I believe, that much as he is devoted to the memory of her whom alone he can ever love ; could he purchase true happiness to Scotland by the sacrifice, i24 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. he would marry any honest woman Avho could bring hiiii so blest a dowry. But in your case, my dear aunt, I can see no probability of such a consequence. In the first place, I know that now the virtuous Earl of Badenoch is no more, he neither respects nor fe.a*s the Cumminsj and that he would scorn even to purchase a crown, or the people's happiness, by any baseness in himself. To rise by their means who will at any time immolate all 'hat is sacred to man, to their caprices and fancied i:-- r crests, v/ould be unworthy of him ; therefore I am sure, that if you wish to marry Sir "SVilliam Wallace, you must not urge the use he can make of the Cummins, as an argument. He need not stoop to cajole the men he can command. Did he not drive the one half of theii? -Ian, with the English host, to seek a shelter from his vengeance ? And for them in the citadel ; had he cho- sen to give the word, they would now be all numbered with the dust ! He lays down his power, lady ; it is not taken from him. Earthly crowns are dross to him who looks for a heavenly one. Therefore, dear aunt, I may iiopethat you now think it no longer necessary to wound your delicacy by offering him a hand which cannot pro- duce the good you meditate 1" The complexion of the Countess varied a thousand dmes during this answer: — her reason assented to many parts of it; but the passion she could not ac- knowledge to her nephew, urged her to persist. " You may be right, my dear Edwin :" replied she, " but still, as there is nothing very repugnant in m,e, the pro- ject is surely worth trying ! At any rate, a marriage with me would, by allying your noble friend to every illustrious house in the kingdom, make his interest theirs; and though he disclaims a higher honour, yet they would all unite to maintain him in the regency. In short, I am certain that Scotland will be wrecked when he leaves the helm. And also, as you love your friend; though your young heart is yet unacquainted with the strange inconsistencies of the tenderer passion ; allow me to whisper to you, that your friend will never be happy till he again lives in the bosom of domestic affec- tion.'* " Ah I but where is he to find it ?" — cried Ed- win ; "what wall ever restore his Marion to his arms T' THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 126 " I/' cried she," I will be more than ever Marion was to him ; for she knew not, O ! she could not, the boundless love that fills my heart for him 1'* Edwin's blushes at this wild declaration, told her that she had betrayed herself. She next attempted to palliate what she would, at this period, have wished to conceal; and coverinjj her face with her hand, she drew several heavy sighs, and then said;" You who love Sir William Wal- lace, cannot be surprised that all who adore human ex- cellence, should participate the sentiment. How could I see him, the benefactor of my family, the blessing to all Scotland, and not love him ?" " True ;" replied Edwin, *•' but not as a wife would love her husband ! — > Were you not married ? And was it possible for you to feel thus vrhen my good uncle lived ? So strong a pas- sion cannot have grown in your breast since he died -, for love, surely, could not enter the lamenting widow's heart at the moment when her husband lay an unburied corse before her I" " Edwin V replied she, " you who never felt the throbs of this tyrant, judge with a severity you will one day regret : when you love your- self, and strugg;le with a passion that drinks your very- life, you will pity Joanna of Mar^ and forgive her I" — — . " I pity you now, aunt ;" replied he, "but you bewil- der me. — I cannot understand the possibility of a virtu- ous married woman suffering any passion of this'kind to get such domination over her, as to cause her one guilty sigh. For guilty must every wish be that mili- tates against the honour of her husband. Surely love comes not in a whirlwind to seize the soul at once; but grows by degrees according to the developementof the virtues of the object, and in consequence of the reins we give ourselves in indulging in their contemplation ; — and if it be virtue that you love in Sir William Wal- lace, had you not virtues amountmg to a samt in your noble husband ?" The Countess perceived by the remarks of Edwin that he was deeper read in the human heart than she had suspected ; that he was neither ignorant of the feelings of the passion, nor of what ought to be its source ; and therefore, with a deep blush, she replied — " Think for a moment before you condemn me. I 126 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. acknowled.Q^e every virtue that your uncle possessed; but, Oh ! Edwin I he had frailties that you know not of, frailties that reduced me to be, what the world never saw, the most unhappy of women." — Edwin turned pale at this chart^e against his uncle, which she enforc- ed with tears ; and while he forbore to draw aside the veil which covered the sacred dead, by inquiring what those frailties were, little did he think that the artful woman meant a frailty in which she had equally shared, and the consequences of which had constrained her to be- come his wife. She proceeded ; '^ I married your uncle when I was a girl, and knew not that I had a heart. I then saw Wallace; his virtues stole me from myself; and I found In short, Edwin, your uncle was of too advanced an age to sympathize with my younger heart. How could I then defend myself against the more con- genial soul of your friend ? — He was cold during Mar's life ; but he did not repulse me with unkindness ; I therefore hope; and do you, my Edwin, gently influ- ence him in my favour, and I will for ever bless you !" — — " Aunt,'^ answered he, looking at her attentively ; *•* can you* without displeasure, hear me speak a few, perhaps ungrateful truths r" " Say what you will,'' said she, trembling ; " only be my advocate with the ^loblestof human beings, and nought can I take amiss." " I answer you, Lady Mur," resumed he, " with un- qualified sincerity, because I love you, and venerate the memory of my uncle, whose frailties, whatever ^hey might be, were visible to you alone. I answer you vs'ith sincerity, because I would spare you much future pain, and Sir William Wallace a task that would pierce him to the soul. And as I know his heart, perhaps bet- ter than I do my own, I venture to answer for him. You confess that he already knows you love him ; that he has received such demonstrations with coldness. Re- collect what it is you love him for, and then judge if he could do otherwise. Could he approve affections which a wife transfered to him from her husband, and that hus- band his friend ?" — " Ah ! but he is now dead T' inter- rupted she, " that obstacle is removed." " But the other, which you raised yourself!" replied Edwin, '^ while a wife, you shewed to Sir WilUam Wallace th?it THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. iSr you could not only indulge yourself in wishes inimicai to your nuptial faith, hut you divulged them to him. Ah! my aunt! what could you look for as the conse- quence of this ? My uncle yet lived; and ycu threw yourself into the arms of another man ! That act, were you youthi\il as Hebe, and more tender than ever was fabled of the queen of love, I am sure the virtue of Wallace would never pardon. He never could pledge his faith to one whose passions could silence her sense of duty; and did he even love you; he would not, for the empire of the world, repose his honour in your keeping." " Edwin!" cried she, at last summoning power to speak j for she had sat during the latter pait of this address, gasping with unutterable disappointment and rage ; and turning on him a lurid look of hate, " ?.'^e you not afraid to breathe all this to me ? I have given you my confi- dence, and do you abuse it? Do you stab, me when! ask you to heal ?" — " No, my dear aunt ;" replied he, " I speak the truth to you, ungrateful as it is, to prevent you hearing it in perhaps a more painful form from Wal- lace himself." — <* O I no ;" cried she, wiih contemptu- ous haughtiness ;" he is a man, and he knows how to pardon the excesses of love ! Look around you, fool- ish boy, and see how many of our proudest lords have united their fates with women, v. ho, not only loved them while their husbands lived, but told them so, and left their homes and children to join their lovers ! Have not these lovers since married them ? — \nd what is there in me, a princess of the bloods both of the crowns of Scotland and of Norway ; a, woman who has had the nobles of both kingdoms at her feet, and frown- ed upon them all ; that 1 should now be contemned ? — ■ Is the ingrate for whom alone 1 ever felt a wish of love, is he to despise me for my passion ? — You mistake Edwin ; you know not the heart of man." — '^ Not of the common race of men, perhaps ;" replied he, " but certainly that of Sir William Wallace. Pur'ty and he are too sincerely one, for him to allow personal vanity to blind his eyes to the deformity of the passion yoi% describe. And, mean as I am, when compared with him, yet I must aver, that were a married woman 128 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. to love me, and not only tell me of it, but seek to ex- cuse her frailty, I should see her contempt of the principles which are the only impregnable bulwarks of innocence, and I should shrink from her, as I would from pollution." " Then you declare yourself my ene- my, Edwin ?" " No ;" replied he, " I speak to you as a son : and if you choose to venture to say to Sir Wil- liam Wallace, what you have said to me, I shall not even observe on what has past, but leave yon, unhappy lady, to the pangs I would have spared you.'* He rose. — Lady Mar wrung her hands in a paroxysm of conviction that what he said was true. — " Then, Ed- win, I must despair !" — He looked at her with pity : "Could you abhor the dereliction that your soul has thus made from duty, and leave him, (whom your iinwid- owed wishes nov/ pursue,) to seek you ; then I should say that you might be happy : for penitence appeases God, and shall it not find grace with man :" " Bles- sed Edwin 1" cried she, falling on his neck and kissing him ; " whisper but niy penitence to Wallace : teach him to think I hate myself. O 1 make me that in his eyes which you would wish, and I vi ill adore you on my knees !'* The door opened at this moment, and Lord Ruth- ven entered. The tears she was so profusely sl^ed- ding on the bosom of his son, he attributed to some conversation she might be holding respecting her de- ceased lord, and taking her hand, after some words of condolence, he told her that he came to propose her removal on the following morning from the scene of all these horrors. " I, my dear sister," said he, " will at- tend you as far as Perth. After that, Edwin will be your guard to Braemar ; and my Janet shall stay with you there, till time has softened your griefs." Lady Mar looked at him ; " And where will be Sir William Wallace ?" " He," answered Ruthven, " will be de- tained here. Some considerations, consequent to his receiving the French dispatches, will hold him some time longer south of the Forth." Lady Mar shook her head doubtfully at this, and reminded him that ihe chiefs in the citadel had withheld the dispatches.^ THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 129 Lord Ruthven then informed her, that Lord Loch- awe, on heanng the particulars of the transaction in the citadel had, unknown to Wallace, summoned the most powerful of his friends then near Stirling ; and attended by them and a large body of armed men, he was carried in a litter to that city. In the same manner he entered the council-hail, and though on that bed of -weakness, he threatened the assembly with instant death from his troops without, unless they would con- sent immediately to swear obedience to Wallace, and to compel Badenoch to give up the French dispatches. Violent tumults were the consequence : but Loch- awe's Ihter being guarded by a double rank of armed chieftains ; and the Keep being hemmed round with men prepared to put to the sword every Scot hostile to the proposition of their lord, the insurgents at last com- plied ; and used some coercion to force Badenoch to relinquish the royal packet. This triumph effected, Loch-awe and his train returned to the monastery. Wallace was resolute not to re-assume the dignity he had resigned, and the re-acknowledgment of which had been extorted from the lords in the citadel. " No ;'* said he, to Loch-awe ; " it is indeed time that I should sink into shades where I cannot be found, since I am become a word of contention amongst my country^ men." Finding him not to be shaken, his friends urged him TiO farther : and Ru-hven saying, that on opening the French dispatches, he had found matter in them to prevent his seeking the repose of Braemar; — "Then we will wait for him here,'* cried the Countess. — "That would be wrong;" answered Ruthven, " it is against the sacred laws of the church to detain the remains of the dead so long from their grave. He will doubt- less visit Mar ; therefore to-monow I advise your leav- ing Falkirk." Edwin seconded this council ; and her ladyship, fearful of making further opposition, silently acqui- esced. But her spirit was not so quiescent. — At night when she went to her cell, her ever-wakeful fancy aroused a thousand images of alarm. She remember- ed the vow that Wallace had made to seek Heieii, 130 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. He had already given up the Regency, which might have detained him from such a pursuit ; and might not a passion, softer than indignation against the uii- grateful chieftains, have dictated this act ?" " Oh Ishould he love Helen, what is there not to fear !" cried she ; but should hemeether, lam undone 1" Thus, racked by jealousy, and goaded on by contradicting expectations, she rose from her bed, and paced the room in wild dis- order. At one moment she strained her mind to recol- lect any kind look or word from him ; and her imaL^i- nation glowed with anticipated delight. Again she thought of his address to Helen, of his vow in her favour, and she was driven to despair. All Edwin's kindadmoih- tions were forgotten, passion was alone awake;and forget- ful of her rank and sex, and of her situation, she deter- mined to see, and appeal to the heart of Wallace for the last time. She knew that he slept in an a part- ment at the other end of the monastery : and that she might pass thither unobserved, she glided into an op- posite cell where lay a sick monk, and stealing away his cloak, threw it over her, and hurried along the clois- ters. The chapel doom's were open ; and as she passed, she saw the bier of her lord awaiting the hour of its re- moval, and surrounded by the priests who were singing anthems for the repose of his soul. No tender recol- lections, no remorse, knocked at the heart of Lady Mar as she sped along. Abandoned to all but thoughts of Wallace, she felt not that she had a soul ; she ac- knowledged not that she had a hope but what centered in the smiles of the man she was hastening to find. His door was fastened with a latch : she gently ', opened it, and found herself in a moment in his cham- 5 ber. She trembled; — she scarcely breathed; she ap- - preached his bed, but he was not there. — Disappoint- ment palsied her heart, and she sunk upon a chair, al- most fainting. " Am I betrayed ?" said she, to herself,. "Has that youthful hypocrite warned him hence?"'' And then again she thought: " But how should Edwin i guess that 1 should venture here? O, no; my cruel: stars alone are against me 1*' She hovf determined to await his return i and nearly THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 13 1 I three hours she passed there, enduring all the torments r of guilt and misery; but he appeared not. At last, I hearing the matin-bell, she started from her seat, fear- ;ful that at the dawn of morning some one of her maids I might, by entering her apartment, miss her. She, : therefore, with a most unwilling mind, rose to leave ;the shrine of her idolatry ; and once more crossing the cloisters, as she was drawing towards the chapel, she I saw ^Vallace himself issue from the door, supporting jon his bosom the fainting head of Lady Ruthven. Ed- j win followed them. Lady Mar pulled her cowl over jher face, and withdrew behind a pillar. *' Ah !" thought she, " absenting myself from my duty I fled from thee !" She listened with breathless attention to what might be said. Lord Ruthven met them at that instant. " The ex- haustion of this night's watching by the bier of her bro- ther," said Wallace, " has worn out your gentle lady : we supported her through the whole of these sad vi- gils, but at last she sunk." What Ruthven said in re- ply, as he took his wife in his arms, the Countess could not hear : but Wallace answered, " I have not seen her." "I left her late in the evening, drowned in tears," replied Ruthven, in a more elevated tone; " and there- fore I suppose that she in secret offers those prayers for her husband, which my tender Janet pours over his gravel" " Such tears," replied Wallace, " arc heaven's own balm. I know they purify the heart whence they flow. And the prayers we breathe for those we love, unite our souls the closer to theirs. Look up, dear Lady Ruthven," said he, as she began to revive ; " look up, and hear how you may yet on earth retain the society of your beloved brother! Even by seeking his spirit at the footstool of God. 'Tis thus I live, sister of my most venerated friend I My soul is ever on the wing for heaven, — in banquets, as in the solitary hour ; in joy, as in sorrow. For I know where my treasure lives — in the bosom of her God ! So believe of your brother : and there, with prayer and thanksgiving, our rejoicing spirits shall meet those we love !" " Wallace I Wallace 1" cried Lady Ruthven, looking 132 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. on his animated countenance with wondering rapture ;' " and art thou a man and a soldier ? Oh I rather say, an angel, lent us here a little while to teach us to live and die !" A glowing blush passed over the pale but benign cheek of Wallace. " I am a soldier of him who was indeed brought into the world to shew us by his life and death, how to be virtuous and happy. Know me by my life to be his follower, and David himself wore not a more glorious title 1" Lady Mar, while she contemplated the matchless form before her, exclaimed to herself, " Why was it animated by as faultless a soul ! — Oh ! Wallace ! wert thou less excellent, I might hope — but hell is in my heart and heaven in thine 1" She tore her eyes from a view which blasted v/hile it charmed her, and rushed from the cloisters. CHAP. XIII. X HE sun rose as the funeral procession of the Earl « of Mar moved from before the gates of the monastery! at Falkirk. Eord Ruthven and Edwin mounted their ] horses. The maids of the two ladies led them forth towards the litters which were to convey them so long a journey. Lady Ruthven came first, and Wallace placed her tenderly in her carriage. The Countess next appeared, clad from head to foot in the deep weeds of her widowhood. Her child followed in the arms of? its nurse. At sight of the innocent babe whom he had so often seen pressed to the fond bosom of the father ji he was now following to his grave, tears rushed into ; the eyes of Wallace. Lady Mar at that moment lifted || her veil, and meeting his commiserating look, applied it to herself, and with a flush of joy bunk her head upon the shoulder of her maid. Wallace advanced to her re- spectfully, avjd handing her to her vehicle, urged her to cherish life for the sake of her child. She threw her- self back in violent agitation on her pillow, and Wal- lace deeming the presence of her babe the surest com- ibrter, after blessing it with all the fervor of its father's THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. ut iViend, laid it by her side. At that moment, before he had relinquished it, she bent her face upon his hands, and bathing them with her tears, in a stifled voice said, " Oh ! Wallace, remember meT' Lord Ruthven rode up to bid adieu to iiis friend, and the litters moved on. Wallace promised that both he and Edwin should hear of him in the course of a few days ; and affectionately grasping the hand of the latter, bade him farewell. Hear of him they should, but not see him ; for it was his determination to set off that night for Durham, where he was informed that Edward with the remains of his army now lay, and joined by his yonng queen, meant to sojourn till his wounds were healed. Wal- lace believed that his presence in Scotland could be no longer serviceable, and might engender continual intes- tine divisions ; he would therefore seek to fulfil his vow to Mar, (for he thought it probable that Helen might be carried to the English court), and then attempt an interview with young Bruce, to learn how far he had succeeded in persuading his father to leave the vassa- lage of Edward, and to resume the sceptre of his an- cestors. To effect his plan without hinderance, immediately on the disappearance of the cavalcade, he retired to his apartment, and addressed a letter to Lord Ruthven, telling him that he was going on an expedition which, he trusted in heaven, would prove beneficial to his country ; but as it was an enterprise of rashness, he would not load his soul with making any one his com- panion; and therefore he begged Lord Ruthven to teach his friends so to consider a flight, which they might otherwise deem unkind. All the brother was in his letter to Edwin; conjuring him to prove his affection for his friend, by quietly abiding at home till they should meet again in Scotland, Another epistle he wrote to Andrew Murray, now Lord Bothvveil : addressing him as the first chieftain who with him had struck a blow for Scotland, and as his dear friend and brother soldier, he confided to his care the valiant troop which had followed him from Lanark ; — " Tell them," said he, "that in obeying you, they still serve with me ; they perform their duty to VOL. 11 M 154 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. Scotland, at home — I, abroad : our aim is the same', and we shall meet again at the happy consummation oi our labours." These letters he inclosed in one to Scrymgeour, with orders to dispatch two of them according to their directions ; but that to Murray, Scrymgeour was him- self, at the head of the Lanarkers, to take to that noble- man, who would explain to him his farther wishes. At the glooming of evening Wallace left the mona- stery, and at the door, put his packet into the hand of the porter to deliver to Scrymgeour when he should appear there at his usual hour. As the chief meant to assume a minstrel's garb that he might travel the country unrecognised as its once adored Regent, he took his way towards a cave in Torwood, where he had, at noon, deposited his means of disguise. When n.rrived there, he disarmed himself of all but his sword, dirk, and breastplate ; he covered his tartan gambeson with a minstrel's cassoc ; and staining his bright com- plexion with the juice of a berry, concealed his brighter locks beneath a close bonnet. Being thus completely equipped, he threw his harp over his shoulder ; and having first, in that deep solitude where no eye beheld, no ear heard him, but that of God, invoked a blessing on his enterprise ; with a buoyant spirit, rejoicing in the power in whose light he moved, he went forth, and under the sweet serenity of a summer night, pursued • his way along the broom-clad hills of Muiravenside. All lay in profound rest. — Not a human creature crossed his path till the carol of the lark summoned the husbandman to his rural toil, and spread the thymy hills and daisied pastures with herds and flocks. As the lowing of cattle descending to the*water, and the bleating of sheep hailing the morning beam, came on every breeze, and mingled with the joyous voices of their herdsmen calling to each other from afar ; as all met the ear of Wallace, his conscious heart could not but whisper — " I have been the happy instrument to effect this ! I have restored every man to his paternal fields I I have filled all these honest breasts with glad- ness 1" He stopped at a little mo^s-covered cabin on a burn. THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 135 side beneath Craig Castle in Mid-Lothian, and was hospitably entertained by the simple inhabitants. Wal- lace repaid their kindness with a few ballads which he sang accompanied by his harp. As he gave the last notes oi King Arthur^ s Death in Glory <^ the worthy cottar raised his head from the spade on which he leaned, and asked whether he could not sing about the present glory of Scotland ? "Our renowned Wallace,'* said he, " is worth King Arthur and all the knights of his round table ; for he not only conquers for us in war, but establishes us in happy peace. Who, like him of all our great captains, took such care of the poor, as to give them not only the bread thatsustaineth the tempo- ral, but that which supports the eternal life ? Sing us then his praises, minstrel, and tarry with us days in- stead of hours." The wife and the children, who clung around their melodious visitant, joined in this re- quest ; but Wallace rising, with a saddened smile said, ** I cannot sing what you require : but you may oblige Sir William Wallace, li you will take a letter from him, of which I am the bearer, to Lord Dundaff at Berwick. I have been seeking for a faithful Scot to whom I could intrust it, and now I have found one. It is to reveal to the noble Dundaff, the death of his gallant son, for whom all Scotland must mourn to its latest genera^ tions." The honest shepherd gladly accepted this mission ; and his wife, loading their guest's scrip with her choicest fruits and cakes, accompanied him, followed by the children, to the bottom of the hill. In this manner, sitting at the board of the lowly, and sleeping beneath the thatched roof, did Wallace pursue his way through Tweeuale and Ettrick Forest, till he reached the Cheviots. From every lip he heard his own praises ; heard them with redoubled satisfaction, for he could have no suspicion of their sincerity, as they were uttered to a poor minstrel, and by persons without expectation that their expressions of gratitude would ever reach the Regent's ear. It was the sabbath-day when he mounted the Che- viots. He stood on one of their summits, and leaning on his harp, contemplated the fertile dales he left be- 156 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. ,hind. The gay villagers in their best attires, wepe thronging to their churches, while the aged, too infirm for the walk, were sitting cheerfully in the sun at their cottage doors, adoring their Almighty Benefactor in the sublimer temple of the universe. AH spoke of security and happiness. "Thus I leave you, beloved Scotland I And may I, on my return over these hills, still behold thy sons and daughters rejoicing in the heaven-bestow- ed peace of their land !" Having descended into Northumberland, his well- replenished scrip was his only provider ; and when it was exhausted, he purchased food from the peasantry* He v/ould not accept the hospitality of a country which he had so lately trodden down as an enemy. Here he heard hisname mentioned with terror as well as admira- tion. While many related circumstances of misery to which the ravaging of their lands had reduced them, all concurred in speaking highly of the moderation with which the Scottish leader treated his conquests. Late in the evening Wallace arrived at the north side of the river that surrounds the episcopal city of Dur- ham. He crossed Elvet Bridge. — His minstrel garb (it being a privileged character) prevented his being stopped by the guard at the gate ; but as he entered Tinder the porch, a horse that was going through started at his abrupt appearance. Its rider suddenly exclaimed, " Fool, thou dost not see Sir "William Wallace ?" Then turning to the object of the animal's alarm, he called out: "Harper, you frighten my horse: draw back till I pass." Wallace, not displeased to find that the terror }i^oi him was so great amongst the enemies of Scotland, that they even addressed their animals as if they shared their dread ; stood out of the way, and saw the speaker to be a. young Southron knight, who now with difficulty kept his seat oq the restive beast. Making a desper- ate plunge, it would have thrown him, had not Wal- lace put forth his hand and seized the bridle. By his assistance, the horse v/as soothed ; and the young lord thanking hiiu for his services, told him, that as a re- v/ard- if he chose, he would introduce him to play be- fore the queen, who that day held a grand feast at the bishop's palacp. Wallace, who thought it probable THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 137 that he might either see or hear tidings of Lady Helen in this assembly, and most likely find easier access to Bruce than he could otherwise do, gladly accepted the offer. Accordingly the knight, who was Sir Piers Gaveston, the son of a brave Gascon nobleman who had joined the king of England's party, ordered the min- strel to follow him. He turned his horse towards the city, and Wallace obeying, was conducted through the gates of the citadel to the palace within its walls. On entering the banqueting hall, he was placed by the knight in the musician's gallery, there to await his summons to her majesty. The entertainment being spread, the room was soon full of guests ; and the queen was led in by the haughty bishop of the see, the king being too ill of his wounds to allow of his joining so large a company. The beauties of the lovely sister of Philip le Bel seemed to fill the gaze and hearts of all the by-standers, and none appeared to remember that Edward was absent. Wallace hardly glanced on her youthful charms : his eyes roamed from side to side in quest of a fairer, a dearer object ; the captive daughter of his dead friend ! But Helen was not there, neither was De Valence ; but Buchan, Athol, and Souiis sat near the royal Margaret in all the pomp of feudal grandeur, but sullen and revengeful ; for the defeat on the Carron had obscured the victory of Falkirk, and instead of their having presented Edward to his young queen as the conqueror of Scotland, she had found him and them fugitives in the Castle of Durham. As soon as the royal band had finished their grand pieces, Gaveston pressed forward towards the queen, and told her that he had presumed to introduce a tra- velling minstrel into the gallery, hoping that she would order him to perform for her amusement, as he could sing legends from the descent of the Romans to the victories of Edward I. With all the eagerness of her age in quest of novelties, she commanded that he should be immediately brought to her. Gaveston having presented him, Wallace bowed with the respect due to her sex and dignity, and to the es-' teem in which he held her royal brother. Margaret desired him to place his harp before her, and begin to M 3 138 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. sing. As he knelt on one knee and struck its sounding chon's, she stopped him by the inquiry of whence he came ? " From the north country," was his reply. '' Were you ever in Scotland ? asked she. « Often." The young' lords crowded round to hear this dialogue between majesty and lowliness. — She smiled, and turn- ing to the nobles, said, " Do not accuse me of disloy- alty either to my king or my husband ; but I have a cu- riosity to ask another question.*' " Nothing your ma- jesty wishes to know," said Bishop Beck, " can be amiss." " Then tell me," cried she, " (for you wan- dering minstrels see all the great, good or bad, else how could you make songs about them ?) did you ever meet Sir William Wallace m your travels ?'* " I have, ma- dam." " Pray tell me what he is like ! for you will pro- bably be unprejudiced ; and that is what I can hardly expect in this case, from any of these brave lords." Wallace, wishing to avoid further questioning on this subject, replied, " I have never seen him so distinctly, as to be able to prove any right to your majesty's opin- ion of my judgment." ^'Cannot you sing me some ballad about him ?'* inquired she, laughing, " and if you are a little poetical in your praise, I will excuse you, as 3Tiy royal father thinks he would have shewn bright in a fairer cause." " My songs are dedicated to glory set in the grave ;" returned Wallace, " therefore Sir Wil- liam Wallace's faults or virtues will not be sung by me.'' " Then he is a very young man, I suppose," for you are not very old, and yet you talk of not surviving him. I was in hopes," cried she, addressing Beck ; " that my lord the king would have brought this Wallace to have supped with me here ; but for once rebellion overcame its master." Beck made some reply which Wallace did not hear^ and the queen again turning to him, said, " My good minstrel, we French ladies are v€ry fond of beauty ; and you will not a little reconcile me to these northern realms, if you will tell me whether he is any thing like as handsome as any one of the gay knights with whom you see me surrounded?" Wallace smiled, and replied, " The beauty of Sir William Wallace lies in a strong arm and a tender heart; and if these be charms in the THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 139 eyes of female goodness, he may hope not to be quitt an object of abhorrence to the sister of Philip of France I*' The minstrel bowed as he spoke, and the young queen laughing again, said, " I wish not to come within the influence of either. But sing me some Scottish legend, and I will promise, wherever I see the knight, to treat him with all the courtesy due from a daughter of France.'* Wallace again struck the chords of his harp ; and with a voice whose full and melodious tones rolled round the vast concave of the hall, he sang the triumphs of Reuther (u) The queen, as he sang, fixed her eyes upon him ; and when he ended, she turned and said to Gaveston, " If the voice of this man had been Wallace's trumpet, I should not now wonder at the discomfiture of England. He almost tempted me from my allegi- ance, as the warlike animation of his notes seemed to charge the flying Southrons." Speaking, she rose, and presentinga jewelled ring to the minstrel, left the apart- ment. The lords crowded out after her ; and the musicians coming down from the gallery, seated themselves with much rude jollity to regale on the remnants of the feast. Wallace, who had before discovered the sena- chie (^) of Bruce, by the arms on his coat, gladly saw him drawing towards him. He came to invite the stran- ger minstrel to partake of their fare. Wallace did not appear to decline it ; and as the court bard seemed ra- ther devoted to the pleasures of wine, he found it not difficult to draw from him what he wanted to know. He learnt that young Bruce v.'as still in the castle under arrest ; " and," added the man, " I shall feel no little mortification to be obliged, in the course of half an hour, to relinquish these festivities for the gloomy du- ties of his apartment." This was precisely the point to which Wallace had wished to lead him ; and pleading fatigue, he offered to supply the senachie's place in the earl's chamber. The half-intoxicated bard accepted the proposition with ea- gerness ; and as the shades of night had long closed in, he conducted his illustrious substitute through some vaulted passages which led from the palace to the. Ua THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. large round tower f"'> of the castle ; informing him, as they went, that he was to sleep in a recess adjoining to Bruce's room ; but that he was to continue playing there till the last vesper bell from the abbey in the neighbour- hood should give the signal for his laying aside the harp. By that time Bruce v/ould be fallen asleep, and he might then lie down on the pallet in the recess. All this Wallace promised punctually to obey ; and being conducted by the senachie up a spiral stair- case, was left in the little anti-room. The chief drew the cowl of his minstrel cloak over his face, and set his harp before him in order to play. He could see through its strings that a group of knights were in earnest con- versation at the farther end of the apartment, but they spoke so low that he could not hear what was said. One of the party turned round, and the lamp which hung from the middle of the roof shedding its rays upon his face, discovered him to be the brave Earl of Glouces- ter, whom Wallace had taken and released at Berwick. Another, the same light shewed to be Percy, Earl of Northumberland. Wallace found the strangeness of his situation. He, the conqueror of Edward, to have been singinj^ as a mendicant in his halls : and having given laws to the two great men before him, he now sat in their view as unobserved as ur.feared by then\I Their figures concealed that of Bruce : but at last, when ail rose together, he heard Gloucester say in rather an ele- vated voice, " Keep up your spirits. — This envy of your "base countrymen will recoil upon themselves. It can- not be long before King Edward discovers the motives of their accusations, and his noble nature will acquit you accordingly. '^ " My acquittal," replied Bruce in a firm tone, " will not restore what Edward's late injustice has rifled from me : and, as that is the case, I am willing to abide by the test of my own actions, and by them to open the door of my freedom. Your king may depend on it," added he, with a sarcastic smile, " that I am not a man to be influenced against the right. Where I owe duty, I will pay it to the uttermost farthing." Percy, who did not apprehend the true meaning of this speech, immediately answered, " I believe you. THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 141 and so must all the world : for did you not give brave proofs of it in bearing arms against the triumphant Sir William Wallace V " I did indeed give proofs of it," returned Bruce, " which I hope the world will one day- know, by bearing arms against the usurper of my coun- try's rights ! And in defiance of injustice and treason, before men and angels I swear," cried he, " to perform my duty to the end; and to retrieve to honour, the in- sulted, the degraded name of Bruce V* The two earls fell a little back before the vehement action which accompanied this burst from the soul of Bruce ; and Wallace caught a glimpse of his youthful form, which stood pre-eminent in patriotic virtue, be- tween the Southron lords ; his fine countenance glow- ed, and his brave spirit seemed to emanate in light from every part of his body. " My prince and brother l" exclaimed Wallace to himself, ready to rush forward and throw himself at his feet, or into his arms. Gloucester, as little as Northumberland, comprehen- ding his ambiguous declaration, replied, ''Let not your heart, my brave friend, burn too hotly against the king for this arrest. He will be the more urgent to oblite- rate by kindness this injustice, when he understands the aims of the Cummins. I have myself felt hiswrathj and as it was misplaced, who is there in England more favoured by Edward, than Ralph de Monthermer ? My case will be yours. Good night? Bruce. — May kind an- gels give you propitious dreams, to repeat the augury of your true friends 1'* Percy at the same time shook hands with the young earl, and the two Southron nobles left the room together. Wallace could now take a more leisurely survey of Bruce. He no longer wore the gay embroidered ac- queton ; his tunic was black velvet ; and all the rest of his garments accorded with the same mourning hue. Soon after the lords quitted him, the buoyant elasticity of his figure which before seemed ready to rise froni the earth, so was his soul elevated by his sublime re- solves, gave way to melancholy retrospections ; and he threw himself into a chair, with his hands clasped upon his knee and his eyes fixed in musing gaze upon the i]«or, It was now that Wallace touched the strings of 142 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. his harp. The Death of CuthuUin rolled over the sounding strings: but Bruce heard as though he heard them not; they soothed his mood, without his percei- ving what it was that calmed, yet deepened the. sadden- ing thoughts which possessed him. His posture re- mained the same ; and sigh after sigh gave the only re- sponses to the strains of the bard. Wallace grew impatient for the chimes of that ves- per-bell which, by assuring Bruce's attendants that he was gone to rest, would secure from interruption the conference he meditated. Two servants entered — Bruce, scarcely looking up,%ade them withflraw, for he should not need their attendance ; he did not know when he should go tobed ; and he desired to be no fur- ther disturbed. The men obeyed ; and Wallace imme- diately changing the melancholy strain of his harp, struck the chords to the proud triumph he had played in the hall. Not one note of either piece had he yet sung to Bruce ; but when he came to the passage in the Matter, appropriated to these lines : ** Arise, glory of Albin, from thy cloud. And shine upon thine own !" He could not forbear giving the vrords Voice.— Bruce started from his seat. He looked towards the minstrel) and walked the room in great disorder of mind. The pealing sound of the harp, and his ov/n mental confusion, prevented his distinguishing that it was not the voice of his senachie. The words alone, he heard ; and they seemed a call which his heart panted to obey. The hand of Wallace paused upon the instrument. He looked around to see that all observation was indeed at a distance. Not that he dreaded any thing for himself; for his magnanimous mind, courageous from infancy, by a natural instinct had never known personal fear : but anxious that he should not precipitate Bruce into useless danger, he first satisfied himself that all was safe; and then, as the young earl sat in a paroxysm of emo- tions occasioned by reflections too racking to be borne with equanimity, (for they carried self-blame along with them; or rather a blame on his father, which pierced him to the heart,) Wallace slowly advanced from the recess. The agitated Bruce accidentally raistryg hi"5 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 14- head, to his surprise beheld a man in a minstrers garb, who was much too tall to be his senachie, and who ap- proached him, he thought, with a caution that portended treachery. He sprang on his feet, and caught his sword from the'table ; and at the moment, when perhaps his voice, by alarming the attendants that slept in the next I room, might have surrounded him with danger, Wal- lace threw off his cowl. Bruce stood gazing on him, stiffened with astonishment. Wallace, in a low voice exclaimed, " Do you not knov/ me, my prince V Bruce, without speaking, threw his arms about his neck. He was silent as he hung on him, but his tears flowed : he had much to say, but excess of emotion rendered it un- utterable. Wallace, as he returned the fond embrace of friendship, ^aid, " How is it that I not only see you a close prisoner, but in these weeds ?" Bruce, at last for- cing himself to articulate, answered, " I have known misery in all its forms, since we parted ; but I have not yet power to name my grief of griefs, while I tremble at the peril to which you have exposed yourself by seeking me : the vanquisher of Edward, the man who snatched Scotland from his grasp, were he known to be within these walls, would be a prize for which the boiling re- venge of the tyrant would give half his kingdom ! Think then, my friend, how I must shudder at this da- ring. I am surrounded by spies ; and should you be discovered, Robert Bruce will then have the curses of his country added to the judgments which already have fallen on his head." As he spoke, they sat down toge- ther on the couch, and he continued; " Before I can an- swer your questions, tell me what immediate cause could bring you to seek the alien Bruce in prison, and by what stratagem you came in this disguise into my apartment? Tell me the last, that I may judge, by the means of your present safety." Wallace briefly related the evelits which sent him from Scotland, his rencontre with Piers Gaveston, and his arrangement with the senachie. To the first part of the narrative, Bruce listened with indignation. " I knev,'," exclaimed he, " from the boasting of Athol and Buchan, that they had left in Scotland some dregs of theip own refractory spirits ; but I could not havt 144, THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. guessed that envy had so far obliterated gratitude in the hearts of my countrymen, that so many could be persuaded to follow the pernicious counsels of the Cummins* emissaries. The wolves have now driven the shepherd from the fold," cried he, " and the sheep will soon be devoured ! Fatal was the hour for Scot- land and your friend, when you yielded to the voice of faction, and relinquished the power that would have finally given the nation peace !" Wallace then recapitulated his reasons for having re- frained from enforcing the obedience of the young Lord Badenoch and his adherents, and for abdicating a dignity which he could nO longer maintain without shedding the blood of the misguided men who opposed him. Bruce acknowledged the wisdom of this con- duct ; and then proceeded to animadvert on' the cha- racters of the Cummins. He told Wallace that he had met the two sons of the late Lord Badenoch in Guienne ; that James, who now pretended such resentment of his father's death, was ever a rebellious son. John, who yet remained in France, was of a less violent temper ; »' But'' added the prince, " I have been taught to be- lieve, by one who will never counsel me more, that all the Cummins, male and female, would be ready at any time to sacrifice earth and heaven to their ambition. It is to Buchan and Athol that I owe my prolonged con- finement ; and to them I may date the premature death of my dear father." The start of Wallace declared his shock at this in- formation. " How ?" exclaimed he, " The Earl of Carrick dead ? Fell, fell assassins of their country !" The swelling emotions of his soul would not allow him to proceed, and Bruce resumed — " It is for him I w^ar these sable garments, poor emblems of the mournings of my soul ; mournings, not so much for his loss, (and that is grievous as ever son bore ;) but because he lived not to let the world know what he really was ; he lived not to bring into light his long obscured honour ! — There, there Wallace, is the bitterness of this cup to me !" " But can you not sweeten it, my dear prince,'* cried Wallace, " by relieving all that he was cut off frora THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 145 I'edeeming ? To open the way to you, I came.**— <^ And I will enter where you point ;" returned Bruce, " but heavy is my woe, that, knowing the same spirit was in. my father's bosom, he should be torn from the oppor- tunity to make it manifest: O ! Wallace, that he should be made to lie down in a dishonoured grave I Had he lived, my friend, he would have brightened that name which rumour has sullied ; and I should have doubly gloried in wearing the name which he had rendered so worthy of being coupled with the kingly title. M)ble was he in soul; but he fell amidst a race of men whose art was equal to their venality, and he became their dupe. Betrayed by friendsiiip, he sunk into the snare; for he had no dishonour in his own breast, to warn him of what might be the vil'any of others. He believed the cajoling speeches of Edward ; who, on the first of- fence of Baliol, had promised to place my father on the throne. Month after month passed away, and the en- gagement was unperformed. The disturbances oq. the continent seemed to his confiding nature a sufficient excuse for the various delays ; and he waited in quiet expectation, till your name, my friend, rose glorious irt Scotland. My father and myself were then in Guienne. Edward persuaded him that you aifected the crown 5 and he returned with that deceiver, to draw his sword for once against his people and their ambitious idol, as he believed you to be ; and grievous has been the ex- piation of that fatal hour ! — Your conference with him on the banks of the Carron, opened his eyes : he saw what his credulity had made Scotland suffer ; what a wreck he had made of his own fame ; and, from that moment, he resolved to follow another course. But the habit of trusting the affection of Edward, inclined him rather to remonstrate with him on his rights, than im- mediately to take up arms against him : yet resolved not to strike a second blow on his people, when you as- sailed the Southron camp, he fled. I, on quitting you, came up with him in Mid-Lothian ; and he, never hav- ing missed me from the camp, concluded that I ap- peared thus late from having kept in the rear of my di- vision." Bruce now proceeded to narrate to Wallace the par- YOL. II. N 146 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. ticulars of his father's meeting with the king at Dur- ham. Instead of that monarch receiving the Earl of Carrick with his wonted familiar welcome, he turned coldly from him when he approached ; and suffered him to take his usual seat at the royal table, without deigning him the slightest notice. Bruce was absent from the banquet, having determined never again to mingle in social communion with the man whom he was now to regard as the usurper of his rights. The absence of his heroic eye, which had once before looked the inso- lent voluptuary Buchan into his inherent insignificancy, emboldened the audacity of this enemy of his house, and, supported by Athol on the one side, and Soulis on the other, he seized a pause in the conversation, (that he might draw the attention of all present on the dis- grace of the Earl of Carrick,) and said, with affected carelessness,—" My lord, to-day you dine with clean hands ; but the last time 1 saw you at meat, you eat your own blood 1" The Earl of Carrick turned on him a look, which asked him to explain. Lord Buchan laughed, and continued ; " When we last met at table, was it not at supper in his majesty's tent, after the vic- tory at Falkirk ? You were then red from the slaughter of those people to whom, I understand, you now give the fondling appellation of sons ! When you recog- nised the relationship, it was not probable that we should again see your hands in their brave livery ; and their present pallid hue convinces more than myself of the truth of the information." W " And I," cried Edward, rising on the couch to which his wounds confined him, *' that I have discovered a traitor! — You fled, Lord Carrick, at the first attack i which the Scots made on my camp, and you drew thousands after you. I know you too well to believe that cowardice dictated the motion. It was treachery, accursed treachery to your friend and king ; and you shall feel the weight of his displeasure !"— " To this hour, King Edward," replied the Earl, starting from his chair, " I have been more faithful to you, than to my country or my God ! 1 heard, saw, and believed, only what you determined ; and I became your slave ; your vile, oppressed slave 1— -The victim of your arj^i- THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. U7 lice ! — How often have you, preceding your Scottish battles, promised, were they successful, that you would restore me to the crown of my ancestors ! I believed you ; and I engaged all who yet acknowledged the in- fluence of Bruce, to support your cause in Scotland. Was not this your promise, to allure me to the field of Falkirk ? And when I had covered myself, as the Lord Buchan says, with the blood of my children; when I asked my friend for the crown I had served for, what was his answer ? Have I nought to do but to win kmgdoms to give to you ? Thus, then, did a king, a friend, break his often repeated word ! What wonder then that I should feel the indignation of a prince and a friend, and leave him to defenders whom he seemed more highly to approve ? But of treachery, what have I shewn ? Rather confidence. King Edward ; and the confidence that was awakened in the fields of Pales- tine, brought me hither, to remonstrate with you to al- low me to resume my rights, when I might otherwise, by throwing myself into the arms of my people, have demanded them at the head of a victorious army !" Edward, who had been prepared by the Cummins to discredit all that Carrick might say in his defence, turned with a look of contempt towards him, and said, " You have been persuaded to act like a madman j and as such characters, both yourself and your son shall be used, till I have leisure to consider any rational evi- dence you may in future have to offerin your defence." " And is this the manner, King Edward, that you treat your friend ?" — " The vassal," replied Edward, " who presumes upon the condescension of his prince, and acts as if he really were his equal, ought to meet the punishment due to such arrogance. You saved my life on the walls of Acre ; but you owed that duty to the son of your liege lord. In the fervour of youth, I in- considerately rewarded you with my friendship ; and the return is treason." As he concluded, he turned from the Earl of Carrick, and a guard immediately seizing him, took him to the Keep of the castle. His son who had been sought in the Carrick quarters, and laid under an arrest, met his father in the guard chainber. Carrick could not speak, but motioning to be / 14.8 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. conducted to the place appointed for his prison, the men 'vvith equal silence led him through a range of apart- ments which occupied the middle story, and stopping in the farthest, left him there with his son. Bruce, who was not so much surprised at his own arrest, as at that of his father, beheld all in speechless astonishment until the guards -withdrew ; and then seeing Lord Carrick with a changing countenance throw himself on the bed, (For it was in his sleeping room that they had left him ;) he exclaimed, " What is the meaning of this, my dear father? Has any charge against me, brought suspicion on you ?'* — " No, Robert, no ;'* replied the earl, " it is I ivho have brought you into this prison, and into dis- ;],race ; disgrace with all the warld for having tacitly surrendered my birth-right to the invader of my coun- try. Honest men abhor, villains treat me with contume- ly. And he for whom I incurred all this, because I would not, when my eyes were opened to my sin, again cmbrue my hands in the blood of my country, Edward thrusts me from him I You are implicated in my crime ; and for not joining the Southrons to repel the Scots from the royal camp, we are both prisoners." " Then,'" replied Bruce, " he shall feel that you have a son who has courage to be what he suspects ; and, from this hour, I proclaim eternal enmity to the betray- er of my father; to the ingrate who embraced you, to destroy 1" The indignation of the youthful prince wrought him up to so vehement a declaration of resolute and imme- diate hostility, that Lord Carrick was obliged to give his transports way ; but when he saw that his son had ex- hausted his denunciations, though not the determined purposes of his soul ; for as he trod the room with a step which seemed to shake the foundation on which he moved with the power of his mighty mind, Carrick gazed on him with pride, yet grief, and sighing heavily, called him to approach him. " Come to me, my Robertl" said he, " and hear and abide by the last injunctions of your father; for, from this bed I shall never rise more. A too late sense of the injuries which I have joined in inflicting on the people I was b®rn to protect, and the ingratitude of him for whom I have offended my Gad THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 149 and wronged my country, have broken my heart. I shall die, Robert, but you will avenge me !" — " May God so prosper me \" cried Bruce, raising his arms to heaven. Carrick resumed: " Attend to me, my dear and brave son, and do not mistake the nature of my last -wish. Do not allow the perhaps too forcible word I have used, to hurry you into any personal revenge on Edward. Let him live to feel and to regret the outrages he has com^mitted on the peace and honour of his too faithful friend. Pierce him on the side of his ambition ; there he is vulnerable ; and there you will heal while you wound. This is my revenge, dear Robert, that you may one day have his life in your power, and that in memory of what I now say, you Mali spare it. When I am gone, think not of private resentment. Let your aim be the recovery of the kingdom which Edward rifled from your fathers. Join the virtuous and triumphant Wallace, as soon as you can make your escape from these walls. Tell him of my remorse, of my fate, and be guided wholly by his counsels. To insure the suc- cess of this enterprise, my son ; a success, to which I look as the only means to redeem the name I have lost;, ond to inspire my separated spirit with courage to meet the free-born souls of my ancestors ; urge not your own destruction by any premature disclosure of your reso- lutions. For my sake, and for your country's, suppress your resentment ; threaten not the King of England ; provoke not the unworthy Scottish lords who have gained his ear ; but bury all in your own bosom till you can join Wallace, and by his arm and your own, seat yourself firmly in the throne of your fathers. That mo- ment will sufficiently avenge me on Edward I — and in. that moment, Robert, or at least as soon as circumstan- ces will allow, let the English ground which will then hold my body, give up its dead I Remove me to a Scot- tish grave : and standing over my ashes, proclaim to them who might have been my people, that for eveiy evil I suffered to fall on Scotland, I have since felt an- swering pangs, and that dying, I beg their forgiveness, and bequeath them my best blessing, my virtuous son, to reign in my stead i" These injunctions to assert his own honour and that N 2 >50 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. of his father, were rea;clily sworn to by Bruce, but he could not so easily be made to quell the imperious in- dignation which was precipitating him to immediate and loud revenge. The dying earl trembled before the overwhelming passion of his son's wrath and grfef. Treated with outrage and contumely, he saw his father stricken to the earth before him, and he could not bear to hear of any temporizing with his murderers. But all this tempest of the soul, the wisdom-inspired argu ments of the earl at last becalmed, but did not subdue. He convinced his son's reason, by shewing him that caution would ensure the blow ; and that his aim could only be effected by remaining silent till he could pub- lish his father's honour, evidenced by his own heroism. *' Do this," added Carrick, " and I shall live fair in the memories of men. But be violent, threaten Edwai d from these walls, menace the wretches who have trod- den on the grey hairs of their prince, and your voice will be heard no more : this ground will drink your blood, and blind-judging infamy will for ever after point to our obscure graves I'* Such persuasives at last prevailed with Bruce ; and next day, having written the few hasty lines which Wal- lace received at Falkirk, he intrusted them to his sena- chie, who \vas a Scot and loved his countryyto convey safely to Scotland. He obeyed by means of a youth, who having stolen from Annandale to see a brother amongst Bruce's followers, had now asked leave to re- turn. The senachie granted him permission, provided he would faithfully and secretly deliver a packet into the hands of the Lord Regent. This the young man executed with fidelity. Shortly after it was dispatched, the prophecy of Lord Carrick was verified : he was seized in the night with violent spasms, and died in the arras of his son. When Bruce related these particulars, his grief and indignation became so violent, that Wallace was oblig- ed to enforce the dying injunctions of the father he so yehemently deplored, to moderate the delirium of his soul. " Ah 1" exclaimed the young earl, " I have in- deed needed some friend to save me from myself, some one to reconcile me to the Robert Bi'uce who has so lon^. THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS, 151 slept in the fatal delusions which poisoned his father and laid him low I Oh ! Wallace ! at times I am mad, I know not whether this forbearance be not cowardice. I doubt my father meant what he spoke, that he did not yet seek to preserve the life of his son at t4ie expense of his honour, and I have been ready to precipitate my- self on the steel of Edward, so that he should but meet the point of mine!" Bruce then added, that in his more rational -medita- tions, it was his design to have attempted an escape some time in the course of the two following days; for, that he understood a deputation of English barons seeking a ratification of their charter, were to arrive in Durham on the morrow : the bustle attendant on theii' Imsiness, would, he hoped, draw attention from him, and afford him the opportunity he sought. *' Then," continued he, "I should have made directly to Stir- ling ; and had not Providence conducted you to me, I might have unconsciously thrown myself in the midst of enemies. James Cummin is too amJjitious to have allowed my life to have passed unattempted." Whilst he was yet speaking the door of the chamber burst open, and Bruce's two attendants rushed into the room with looks aghast. Bruce and Wallace sta;'ted on their feet and laid their hands on their swords. But instead of any thing hostile appearing behind the ser- vants, the inebriated figure of the senachie staggered forward. The men, hardly awake, stood staring and trembling and looking from the senachie to Wallace ; at last one, extricating his terror-struck tongue and falling on his knees, exclaimed, " Oh 1 blessed St. Andrew ! is this the senachie and his v/raith."Cy) Bruce perceived the mistake of his servants ; and explaining 'to them that a travelling minstrel had obliged the sena- chie by performing his duty, he bade them retire to rest and think no more of their alarm. The intoxicated bard threw himself without cere- mony on his pallet in the recess, vnd the servants, though convinced, still shaking with the effects of their fright, almost with tears entreated to be allowed to bring their heather beds into their lord's chamber. To deny them was impossible ; and all further converse i53 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. •with Wallace that night being put an end to, a couch ■vvas laid for him in an interior apartment, and with a grateful pressure of the hands in which their hearts silently embraced, they separated to repose* CHAP. XIV. A HE s"ecdnd matin-bell had sounded from the abbey before the eyes of Wallace opened from the deep sleep which had sealed them. A bath soon refreshed him from every toil ; and having renewed the stain on his face and hands with the juice of the nut w^hich he car- ried about him, and once more covered his martial fi- gure and golden hair with the minstrel's cassoc and cowl, he rejoined his friend. Bruce had previously affected to consider the sena- chie as much disordered by his last night's excess ; and ordering him to keep from his presence for at least a day, desired that the travelling minstrel should be sent to him, when he rose, to supply his place. The table was spread when Wallape entered, and se- veral servants were in attendance. -Bruce, at sight of his friend hastily rose and would have embraced him, so did his comforted heart spring forward to meet him ; but before these people it would have been more than imprudent; and hailing him with only one of his love- beaming looks, he made a sign to him to sit down at another board near to his own. While he eat, to remove all suspicion from the attendants, (some of whom were spies of Edward's, as well as his own servants ;) he dis- coursed with Wallace on subjects relative to northern literature ; and repeated to him, with bursts of admira- tion, many passages apposite to his own heroic senti- ments, from Ossian, and other favourite bards of Scot- land. The repast was just finished ; and Wallace, to main- tain his assumed character while the servants were re- moving the table, was tuning his harp, when the Earl of Gloucester entered the room. The earl told Bruce that after much searching oyer the castle for the north-= THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. iss cyn minstrel, the king's seneschal had at last discovered that he was in the Keep with him. On this being inti- mated to Gloucester, he rather chose to come himself to demand the harper of his friend, than to subject him to perhaps the insolence of any of the royal servants. The king desired to hear him sing the triumph with which he had so much pleased the queen. Bruce turn- ed pale at this message, and was opening his mouth to utter a denial, when Wallace, who read in his counte- nance what he was going to say, and aware of the con- sequences, immediately spoke, " If my Lord Bruce will grant permission, I should wish to comply with the King of England's request." «' Minstrel 1" re- plied Bruce, casting on him a powerful expression of what was passing in his mind; "you know not, per- haps, that the King of England is at enmity with me, and cannot mean well to any that has been my guest or servant 1 The Earl of Gloucester will excuse your at- tendance in the presence .'* " Not for my life, or your minstrel's !" replied the earl, " the king would suspect some mystery ; and per- haps this innocent man might fall into peril. But as it is, his majesty merely wishes to hear him play and sing, and I pledge you my head, he shall return in safety." Further opposition would only have courted danger; and Bruce, with as good a grace as he could assume, gave his consent ; and a page, who followed Glouces- ter, taking up the harp, Wallace, with a glance at his friend which spoke the fearless mind with which he ventured into the power of his enemy, accompanied Gloucester out of the room. The earl moved swiftly forward; aed leading him through a double line of guards, v'le folding doors of the royal apartment were thrown open by two knights in waiting; and Wallace found himself in the presence. The king lay, perforated v/ith the wounds which Wallace's own hand had given him, upon a couch overhung with a crimson velvet canopy, whose long golden fringes swept the floor. His crown stood on a cushion at his head ; and his queen, the blooming Margaret of France, sat. 154 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. full of smiles, at his feet. The young Countess of Gloucester occupied the seat at her side. ^ The countess, who from indisposition had not been* at court the preceding day, fixed her eyes on the min- strel as he advanced into the middle of the room where the page, by Gloucester's orders, planted the harp. She observed the manner of his obeisance to the king and queen, and to herself; and the queen whispering her with a smile, said as he took his station at the harp, " Have your British troubadours usually such an air as that? Am I right; or am I wrong?" "Quite right ;" replied the countess in as lov/ a voice ; " I sup- pose he has sung of kings and heroes so long, that he cannot help assuming their step and demeanor!" " But how did he come by those eyes, I wonder ?" an- swered the queen ; " If singing of Reuther*s beaniy gaze has so richly endowed him, I must, by getting him to teach me his art, warble myself into a complexion as fair as any northern beauty !'* « But then his must not be the subject of your song,'' whispered the countess with a laugh, " for methinks it is rather of the Ethiop hue!" During this short dialogue, which was heard by none but the two ladies, Edward was speaking with Glouces- ter, and Wallace leaned upon his harp. " That is enough," said the king to his son-in-law, '*now let me hear him play." " The earl gave the word, and Wallace striking the chords with the master hand of genius, called forth such strains, and uttered such tunes from his divine- ly modulated voice that the king listened with won- der, and the queen and countess scarcely allowed them- selves to breathe. He sung the parting of Reuther and his bride, and their souls seemed to pant upon his notes ; but he changed his measure, and their bosoms heaved with the enthusiasm which spoke from his lips and hand, for he urged the hero to battle, he describ- icd the conflict, he mourned the slain, he sung the glo- rious triumph : — as the last sweep of the harp rolled its lofty diapasm on the ear of the king, the monarch deigned to pronounce him unequalled in his art. Ex- cess of delight so agitated the more delicate frames pf the ladies, that while they poured their encomiums THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 155 &n the minstrel, they wiped the glistening tears from their cheeks, and the queen approaching him, laid her hand upon the harp and touching the strings with a light finger, said with a sweet smile—" You must re- main with the king's musicians, and teach me how to charm as you do V Wallace replied to this innocent speech with a smile as sweet as her own, and a bow. The countess now drew near. Though not much older than the youthful queen, (being Edward's eldest daughter,) she had been married twice ; and being therefore more acquainted with the propri42ties of life, her compliments were uttered in a form more befitting her. rank and the supposed quality of the man to whom, the queen continued to pour forth her unrestrained praises. Edward desired Gloucester to bring the minstrel closer to him. Wallace approached the royal couch. Edward looked at him from head to foot before he spoke. Wallace bore this eagle gaze with an undis- turbed countenance ; he neither withdrew his eye from the king, nor did he allow a conqueror's fire to emit from its glance. " Who are you ?" at length demanded Edward, who, surprised at the noble mien and unabashed carriage of the minstrel, had conceived some suspicions of his quality. Wallace saw what was passing in the king's mind, and by frankness determined to uproot all doubt, mildly, but fearlessly answered, " A Scat.'' " In- deed said the king, satisfied that no incendiary would thus dare to proclaim himself: " And how durst you, being of that rebel nation, venture into my court ? Feared you not that you would have fallen a sacrifice to my indignation against the mad leader who is hur- rying you all to destruction V '* I fear nothing on earth." Replied Wallace. " This garb is privileged ; none who respect the law dare commit violence on a minstrel ; and against them who have no law but their own wills, I have this weapon to defend me." As Wallace spoke, he pointed to a dirk which stuck in his girdle. " You are a bold man, and an honest man, I believe," replied tlie king, <' and as my queen desires 1S6 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. It, I order your enrolment in my travelling train of mu-.* sicians. You may leave the presence." " Then follow me to my apartment/* cried the queen. " Countess, you will accompany me to see me^ take my first lesson." The page took up the harp, and Wallace bowing hisjj head to the king, was conducted by Gloucester to the' anti-room of the queen's apartments. The earl there told him that he was returning to his majesty, but that when the queen dismissed him, his page would shew him the way back to Lord Carrick. i The royal Margaret herself opened the door, so ea- ger was she to admit her teacher, and placing herself at the harp, she attempted a pathetic passage of the Triumph^ which had particularly struck her, but she was wrong. Wallace was asked to set her right, he obeyed. She was quick, he clear in his explanations, and in less than an half hour, he made her play the whole of that movement in a manner that surprised and entranced her. " Why, minstrel,'* cried she, taking her hand from the instrument and looking him up in the face, " either your harp is enchanted, or you are a magician; for I have studied three long years to play the lute, and could never bring forth any tone that did not make me ready to stop my own ears. And now, countess," cried she, again running over a few bars, " did you ever hear any thing so delightful ?'* " I suppose," returned the Countess, that all your former instructors have been dunces, and „ that this Scot alone knows th« art they pretended to teach." " Do you hear what the countess says ?** exclaimed she, affecting to whisper Wallace, " she will not allow of any spiritual agency in my wonderfully awakened talent ; and if you can contradict her, do, for I want ve- ry much to believe in fairies, magicians, and all the en- chanting world 1'* Wallace, with a respectful smile, answered, " I know of no spirit that has interposed in your majesty's fa- vour, but that of your own genius, audit is m^ore po- tent in its effect than the agency of all fairy-land." The queen looked at him very gravely, and said," If you really think that there are no such things as fairies THE SCOTTiSll CHIEFS. and enchantments, for so your Avords would imply, then every body in your country must have genius ; for they seem to be excellent in every thing.-— Your warriors arc so peerlessly brave ; all, excepting these Scottish lords, who are such favourites with the king ! I wonder what he can see in their uncouth faces, or find in their rough indelicate conversation to admire. If it had not been for their besetting my gracious Edward, I am sure he never would have suspected any ill of the noble Bruce 1" — " Queen Margaret !" cried the Coun- tess of Gloucester, giving her a look of respectful re- prehension ; " had not the minstrel bettei' retire ?" The queen blushed, and recollected that she was giv^ ingtoo free a vent to her sentiments j but she would not suffer Wallace to withdraw. " I have yet to ask you,'* resumed she, " as the war- riors of Scotland are so resistless, and their minstrels so perfect in their art, whether all the ladies are as dazzliiigly beautiful as the Lady Helen Mar ?" The eagerness with which Wallace grasped at any tidings of her who was so great an object of his enter- prise, at once disturbed the composure of his air ; and had the penetrating eyesof the countess been then di- rected towards him she might have drawn some dan- gerous conclusions from the start he gave at the men- tion of her name, and from the heightened colour which in spite of his exertions to suppress all evident emo- tion, maintained its station on his cheek. " But per- haps you have never seen her ?" added the queen. Wallace replied, neither denying nor affirming her question, " 1 have heard many praise her beauty, but more her virtues." — "Well, I am sorry," continued her majesty, " since you sing so sweetly of female charms, that you have not seen this wonder of Scottish ladies ; you have now little chance of that good fortune, for Earl J)e Valence has taken hei abroad, intending to marry her amidst the state with which my lord has invested him/' " Is it to Guienne , he has taken her ;'' inquired Wallace, " Yes/' replied the queen, rather pleased than offended at the minstrel's ignorance of court ceremony, in thus familiarly presuming to put a VOL. II. o 158 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. cpuestion to her ; " while so near Scotland he could not win her to forget her native country and her fath- er's danger, who it seems was dying of his wounds when De Valence carried her away. And to prevent bloodshed between the earl and Soulis, who is also madly in love with her, my* .ver gracious Edward gave the English lord a high post in Guienne, and thither they are gone." Before Wallace could answer this, and some remark which the queen laughingly added to her information, the countess thought it proper to give her gay mother* in-law a more decisive reminder of decorum, and rising, she whispered something which covered the youthful Margaret with blushes. Her majesty rose directly,and pushing away the harp, said, " You may leave the room,'' and turning her back to Wallace, she walked away i through an opposite door. 1 CHAP. XV. Wallace had hardly recounted the particulars of his royal visit to Bruce, (who had anxiously awaited his return, and received him with open arms,) when the page, who had attended him during his interview with the queen, again appeared, and presenting him with a silk handkerchief curiously coiled up, said that he brought it from her majesty, who supposed it was his, as she found it in the room where he had been playing the harp. Wallace was going to say that it did not belong to him, when Bruce, seeing more in this than his friend did, gave him a look that directed him to take the hand- kerchief. Wallace, without a word, obeyed, and the boy withdrew. Bruce smiled, "There is more in that handkerchief than silk, my friend ! queens send not these embassies on trifling errands." While Bruce spoke, Wallace unwrapped it. " I told you so I" cried he, with a franlj: archness playing over his before pensive features, and pointing at the slip of emblazoned vellum which was now unfolded, " sha'U I look aside while you peruse it ?" THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 159 •^ Look on it, my dear prince," replied Wallace, " for in trifles, as well as things of moment, I will have but one soul with you." The vellum was then opened, and these words presented themselves. " Presume not on this condescension. This injunc- tion may be necessary, for the noble lady who was pre- sent at our interview, tells me that the men of this island are very presuming. But you must redeem the character of your countrymen, and not transgress on a courtesy that only means to say, I did not leave you this morning so abruptly out of unkindness. I write this, because, always having the countess with m.e, I shall not even dare to whisper it in her presence. Be always faithful and respectful, minstrel, and you shall ever £nd an indulgent mistress. " A page will call for you when your attendance in desired." Wallace and Bruce looked on each other with no lit- tle surprise at the contents of this billet. Bruce spoke first, *' Had you vanity, my friend, this letter frofti so lovely and innocent a creature, might be a gratincation s but in our case, the sentiment it breathes is full of dan- ger. She knows not the secret power that impelled her to write this, but we;lo. And I fear it will point an attention to you which may produce effects ruinous to our projects." — " Then," answered Wallace, " our al- ternative is to escape it, by getting away this very night. And as you persevere in your resolution not to enter Scotland unaccompanied by me, and will share my at- tempt to rescue Lady Helen Mar, we must direct our course immediately to the continent.'' " We shall be the more secure under a disguise," returned Bruce," I can furnish ourselves with priests' garments, for I have in my possession the wardrobe of the confessor who followed my father*s fortunes, and who, since his death, has shut himself up in the abbey of St. Cuthbert to pass the remainder of his life in prayer over his remains." It was then settled between the friends that when it became dark they should dress themselves in the con= fessor's robes, and by means of the queen s signet which she had given to Wallace at the banquet, pass the guard. 1 60 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. as priests who had entered by some other gate, and \T-ere come from shriving her majesty. Once without the confines of the city, they would make swift progress southward to the first sea port, there to embark for France, well aware that the moment they were missed suspicion would direct pursuit towards, the borders of Scotland. In these arrangements, and in planning their future movements in Guienne in relation to the rescue of He- len, they passed several hours, and were only interrup- ted by the arrival of a lute from the queen for her min- strel to tune. Wallace obeyed, and returning it by the page who brought it, congratulated himself that it was not accompanied by any new summons ; and continuing to discourse with Bruce on the past, present, and to con^e, tlicir souls grev/ more closely entwined as they more intimately recognised their kindred natures, and time moved on unmarked till the shadows of evening deepened into night. "'"Kow is our hour,'" cried Bruce, starting on his feet, " go you into that room, and array yourself in the confessor's robes, while I call my servants to dispense with their usual nightly attendance. In a few minutes I will follow you." — Wallace, with determination, and liope before him,, gladly obeyed. At this instant the Earl of Gloucester suddenly entered, and looking round the room with a disturbed countenance, abruptly said, " Where is the minstrel ?" — " Why V answered Bruce, with an alarm which he in vain tried to repress from shewing itself in his face. Gloucester advanced close to him, " Is any one within hearing ?"— " No one.'^ *' Then," replied the earl, " his life is in danger. He is suspected to be not what he seems; and, I am sorry to add, to have presumed to breathe wishes to the queeu which are of a nature to insure a mortal punishment.'* Bruce was so confounded v.^ith this stoppage of all their plans, and at the imminent peril of Wallace, that he could not speak. Gloucester proceeded, " My dear Bruce, from the circumstance of his being with you, 1 cannot but suppose that you know more of him than you think proper to disclose. Whoever he may be, whether he came from France, or really from Scotlaud THE SCOTTISH CftlEFS. 161 as he says, his life is'now threatened : and for your sake I come to warn you that his guilt is discovered. A dou- ble guard is now set round the Keep, so no visible means are left for him to escape." " Then what will become of him ?'* exclaimed Bruce in wild consternation, and forgetting all caution in dis- may for his friend, '' am I to see the bravest of men, the saviour of my country, butchered before my eyes by a tyrant ? — I may die, Gloucester, in his defence, but I will never behold him fail 1" Gloucester stood aghast at this disclosure. He came to accuse the friend of Bruce, that Bruce might be pre- pared to clear himself of connivance with so treasonable a crime ; but now that he found this friend to be Wallace, the preserver of his own life, the restorer of his honour at Berwick, he immediately resolved to give him free- dom. " Bruce," cried he, "when I recollect the figure anddeportmcntof this minstrel, I am surprised that in spite of his disguise I did not recognise the invincible Re- gent of Scotland ; but now I know him, he shall find that generosity is not confined to his own breast. Give me your word that you will not attetnpt to escape the arrest in which you are nov/ held, until the court leaves Durham, and I will instantly find a way to conduct your friend in safety from the castle/' " I pledge you my" word of honour;" cried Bruce; " nay, I would swear it to you, noble Gloucester, if an oath were necessary^ that before suspicion should fall on your head, I would die in chains. A child may keep me prisoner in Dur- ham, when you release my friend." — " He saved me at Berwick," replied Gloucester, " and I am anxious to repay the debt I owe. If he be near, explain what has happened in as few w ords as possible, for we must not delay a moment, as I left a council with the enraged, king, settling what secret death would be horrible enough for such a traitor to die." — — '' When he is safe," answered Bruce, " I will attest his innocence to you ; meanwhile, rely on my faitti, that you are giving" liberty to a guiltless man." Bruce hastened to Wallace, who had just completed his disguise. He briefly related what had past; and received for answer, that he would notteave his prince, o 2 i62 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. to the revenge of the tyrant. But Bruce, urging that the escape of the one could alone secure that of the other, iuiplored him not to persist in refusing his of- fered safety, but to make direct for Guienne. " I will rejoin you,'* added he, " when the court leaves Dur- ham; that is my hour of escape; and wherever De Valence is, there we will rendezvous. Before Lady Helen's prison, we will meet to set her free." Wallace had hardly assented to this, when a tumul- tuous noise broke the silence of the court-yard ; and the next moment they heard the great iron doors of the Keep thrown back on their hinges, and the clangor of arms and many voices in the hall. " You are lost 1" exclaimed Bruce, with a cry of despair ; " but we will die together 1" — At that instant Gloucester hastened into the room : *' They are quicker than I thought 1" cried he, " but follow me. — Bruce remain where you are : — be bold, deny you know any thing of where the minstrel passes the night, and all will be well." As he spoke, the feet of them who were come to seize Wallace, already sounded in the adjoining apartment. Glouces- ter turned into a short gallery, flew across it holding the Scottish hero firmly by the hand, and pulling the shaft of a stone pillar from under its capital, and ap- parent adhesion to the wall, let himself and his com- panion into a passage excavated in the shell of the building. The huge column closed after them by a spring, into its former situation ; and the silent pair descended by a very long flight of stone steps to a square dungeon without any apparent outlet; but the earl found one by raising a flat stone marked with an elevated cross, and again they penetrated lower into the bosom of the earth by a gradually declining path till they found themselves on level ground. " This,'* said Gloucester, for the first time speaking since he commenced the escape, " is a vaulted passage which reaches in a direct line to Fincklay Abby.(^) It was discovered to me ten years ago, by my uncle, the then abbot of that monastery. He explored it with me, to satisfy my curiosity ; I having previously engaged ne- ver to betray the secret, as he told me that none but the Bishop of Durham, and the Abbot of Fincklay, THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS, i 63 were ever made acquainted with its existence. Since my coming hither this time, (which was as escort to the young- queen, not to bear arms against Scotland ;) I one day took it into my head to revisit this recess , a^d happily for the gratitude I owe to you, I found all as I had left it in my uncle's lifetime. Without any breach of my truth to the abbot (for to do good, being the first lav/ of God, it supersedes all other engagements ;) I lay similar injunctions of secrecy upon you, both for the sake of my word to the dead, and my honour with Edward, whose wrath would fall upon me in the most fearful shapes should he ever know that I deli- vered his vanquisher as well as my own, out of his hands. But, noble Wallace, though the enemy of my king's ambition, you are the friend of mankind. You were my benefactor, and I should deserve the rack could I suffer one hair of your head to fall with vio- lence to the ground.'* Wallace, with answering frankness, declared his sense of the earl's generous gratitude ; and earnestly commended the young Bruce to his watchful friend- ship. " The brave impetuosity of his mind," continu- ed Wallace, " at times overthrows his prudence, and leaves him exposed to dangers which a little virtuous caution might avoid Dissimulation is a baseness that I should shudder at seeing him practice : but when the flood of indignation swells his bosom, then tell him that I conjure him, g?i the lift of his dearest wishes-, to be silent ! The storm which threatens him will blow over; and the powev who guides through perils thosa who trust in it, will ordain that we shall meet again T' Gloucester replied, " What you say, I will repeat to Bruce I know his claims. I am too sensible how my royal father-in-law has trampled on his rights ; and should I ever see him restored to the throne of his an- cestors, I could not but acknowledge the hand of hea- ven in the event. Without any treason to my own king, I might then rejoice in the restitution made to yours, as I now would not do any thing to' impede your course ; for, in letting justice have its way, 1 obey the King of Kings. I should not even have bound our iriend to remain a prisoner during Edward's sojourn !64 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. at Durham, were I not certain, that from my acknow- ledged attachment to him, (should he escape at pre- sent,) my enemies would persuade the king that I had effected his release. The result would be my dis- grace ; and a broken heart to her who has raised me by her generous love, from the rank of a private gen- tleman, to that of a prince." Gloucester then informed Wallace, that about an hour before he came to alarm Bruce for his safety, he was summoned by Edward to attend him immediately. When he obeyed, he found Soulis standing by the roy- al couch, while his majesty was talking with violence. At sight of Gloucester he beckoned him to advance, and striking his hand fiercely on a packet he held, he exclaimed, " Here, my son, behold the record of your father's shame ! Of a king of England dishonoured by a slave !" As he spoke, he dashed the packet from him. Gloucester took it up. Soulis answered, " Not a slave, my lord and king : can you not see through the ill-adapt- ed disguise, the figure and mien of nobility ? He is some foreign lover of your bride's, come — " " Enough 1" interrupted the king, " I know I am dishonoured ; but the villain shall die. — Read the letter, Gloucester, and say what shall be my revenge ! Gloucester opened the vellum, and read in the queen's hand. " Gentle minstrel ! My lady countess tells me I must not see you again. Were you old or ugly, as mostbarcls are, 1 might, she says ; but being young, it is not for a queen to smile upon one of your calling. She bade me remember that when I smiled, you smiled too; and that you asked me questions unbecoming your de- gree. — Pray do not do this any more ; though I see no harm in it, and used to smile as I liked when I was in France. Oh I if it were not for those I love best who are now in England, I v/ish I were there again ! and you would go with me, gentle minstrel, would you not? And you would teach me to sing so sweetly ! I would tb"n never talk with you, but always speak in song: how pretty that would be ; and then we should be from under the eyes of this harsh countess. My ladies in France would let you come in, and stay as long with THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS, 1^5 me as I pleased. But as I cannot go back again I Vv ill make myself as happy here as I can, and in spite of the countess, who rules me more as if she were my step- mother, than I hers ; but then, to be sure, she is a few years older. " I will see you this very evening, and your sweet harp shall sing all my heart aches to sleep. My French lady of honour will conduct you secretly to my apart- ments. I am sure you are too honest to guess even at what the countess says you might fancy when I smile on you. Smile as often as I will, or frown when she makes me, I shall still think of you the same ! But as she says you must never come to see me again, she will never know whether I smile or frown ; but this I promise you, that all my smiles shall be yours,~.-all my frowns hers. — Genile minstrel, presume not, and ever shall you find an indu:r;ent mistress in M P. S. At the last vespers to-night, my page shall come for you.'* Gloucester knew the queen's hand-writing, and not feeing able to contradict that this letter was hers, he inquired how it came into his majesty's hands. "I found it," replied Soulis, " as I was crossing the court- yard ; it lay on the ground j and I suppose had been accidentally dropped by tHe queen's messenger." Gloucester wishing to extenuate as much as possible for the young queen's sake, whose youth and inexpe- rience he pitied, suggested that from the simplicity with which the note was written, from her innocent re- ferences to the minstrel's profession, she merely ad- dressed him in that character. Every line in the billet seemed to him to bear testimony that the minstrel was no other than he appeared, and that her majesty only wished to indulge her passion for music. " If he be oniy a base itinerant harper," replied the king, "the deeper is my disgrace; for if a passion of another kind than music, be not portrayed in every word of this artful letter, 1 never read a woman's heart 1* The king continued to comment on the fatal scroll with the lynx eye of jealousy, and loading her name with every opprobrium, Gloucester inwardly thanked heaven that none other than Soulis and himself were 166 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. present to hear Edward fasten such foul dishonour on his queen. The gene~rous earl could not find more ar- guments in her favour with which to assuage the mounting ire of her husband. She might be innocent of actual guiltj or indeed of being aware that she had conceived any wish that might lead to it ; but, certainly, more than a queen*s usual interest in a poor wandering minstrel was, as the king said, evident in every line. Gloucester remaining silent. Edv/ard believed him convinced of the queen's crime, and being too wrathful to think of caution, he sent for the bishop and others of his lords, to whom he vented his injury and indigna- tion. But all were not inclined to be of the same opin- ion with their sovereign; some thought with Glouces- ter ; others deemed her quite innocent, that the letter was a forgery ; and the rest adopted the severer refer- ences of her husband : but all united, (whoever were de- termined to spare the queen,) in recommending the immediate apprehension and execution of the minstrel. — " It is not fit," cried Soulis, ** that the man who has evcH been suspected of invading our monarch's honour, should live another hour.'* This sanguinary sentence was acceded to, with as little remorse by the whole assembly as they would have condemned a tree to the axe. Earl Percy, who had given his vote for the death of the minstrel more from inconsideration, than that thirst of blood which stimulated the voices of Sotilis and the Cummins, pro- posed, as he believed the queen innocent, that the Countess of Gloucester and the French lady of honour should be examined relative to the circumstances mentioned in the letter. The king immediately :?rdered their attendance. Th© royal Jane of Acre appeared at the first sum- mons, with an air of truth and freedom from alarm, which convuictd every one, as far as her evidence went, of the Innocence of the queen. Her testimony was, that she believed the minstrel to be other than he seemed ; but that she was certain, from the conversa- tion which the queen had held with her after the bi- shop's feast, that this wc.s the first time in which she had ever seen him ; and that she was ignorani of his THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS, 16/ real rank. On being questioned by the bishop, the Countess acknowledged that her majesty had praised his figure as well as his singing ; <** yet not more," add- ed she, " than she afterwards did to the king, when she awakened his curiosity to send for him." Her highness continued to reply to the interrogatories put to her, by saying, that it was in the king's presence she first saw the minstrel, and then she thought his demeanor much above his situation ; but when he ac- companied the queen and herself into her majesty's apartments, she had an opportunity to observe him nar- rowly, as the queen engaged him in conversation ; and by his answers, questions, and easy, yet respectful de- portment, she was convinced that he was not what he appeared. " And why, Jane,'^ asked the king, " did you not im- part these suspicions to your husband or to me ?" "Be- cause," replied she, " remembering that my interfer- ence on a certain public occasion, brought my late bus- band Clare, under your majesty's displeasure ; on my marriage with Monthemer, I made a solemn vow before my confessor, never again to offend in the like manner. — And besides, the countenance of this stranger was so ingenuous, and his sentiments so natural and honoura- ble, that I could not suspect he came on any disloyal errand." " Lady," asked one of the older lords, " if you thought so well of the queen and of this man, why did you cau- tion her against her smiles, and deem it necessary to persuade her not to see him again ?" The countess blushed at this question, but replied ; " Because I saw that the minstrel was a gentleman: he possessed a noble figure, and a handsome face in spite of his Egyptian skin ; and like most young gentlemen, he might be con'^icious of these advantages, and attribute the artless approbation, the innocent smiles of my gra- cious queen, to a source more flattering to his yanity, I have known- many lords not far from your majesty, make similar mistakes on as little grounds ;" added she, looking disdainfully towards some of the younger nobles; " and therefore, to prevent such insolence, I desired his final dismission." 168 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. " Thank you, my dear Jane," replied the kin.^, reia^L" ing from the severity of his mood ; " you ahnost per- suade me of Margaret's innocence." " Believe it sire !'* cried she with animation; "whatever romantic thought- lessness her youth and inexperience may have led her into, I pledge my life on her virtue." " First let us hear what that French woman has to say to the assignation V exclaimed Soulis, whose pol- luted heart could not suppose the existence of true pu- rity ; and whose cruel disposition exulted in torturing and death ; " question her ; and then her majesty may have full acquittal 1" Again the brow of Edward was overcast. All the Sends of jealousy once more tugged at his heart; and ordering the Countess of Gloucester to withdraw, he commanded the Baroness de Pontoise to be brought in- to the presence. When she saw the king's threatening looks, and be- held the fearful expression which shot from every surrounding countenance, she shrunk with terror. For her heart, long hacknied in secret gallantries, from the same inward whisper which proclaimed to Soulis that the queen was guilty, could not believe but that it had been the confident of an illicit passion ; and therefore, though she knew nothing really bad of her unhappy mistress, yet fancying that she did, she stood trembling before the royal tribunal with the air and aspect of a culprit. " Repeat to me," demanded the king, " or answer it with your head, all that you know of Queen Margaret's iiitimacy with the man who calls himself a minstrel." The French-woman, at these words, which were de- livered in a tone that seemed the sentence of her deiith, fell on her knees, and in a burst of terror exclaimed, " Sire, 1 will reveal all — if your majesty will grant me a pardon for having too faithfully served my mistress !" " Speak! speak 1" cried the king with desperate im- patience ; " I swear to pardon you, even if you have joined in a conspiracy against my life ; but speak the truth, and all the truth, that judgment without mercy may fall on the guilty heads !" " Then I obey," answered the baroness.— *'' Foul be- THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 169 u aver I'' half-exclaimed Gloucester, turning disap- pointed away ; "O ! what it is to be vile, and to trust the vile ! — But virtue will not be auxiliary to vice — and so wickedness falls by its own agents !" The baroness, being raised from her kneeling posi- tion by Soulis, began : " The only time I ever heard of, or saw this man to my knowledge, was when h^was broui^ht to play be- fore my lady at the bishop's banquet; I did not much observe him, being engaged in conversation at the other end of the room, so I cannot say whether I might not have seen him in France ; for many noble lords adored the Princess Margaret, though she appeared to frown upon them all. But 1 must confess, that when I attended her majesty's disrobing after the feast, she put to me so many questions about what I thought of the minstrel who had sung and played so divinely, that I began to think her admiration too great to have been awakened by a mere song. And then she asked me if i\ king could have a nobler air than he had; and she laughed and said she would send your majesty to school to learn of him." "Damnable traitorcss !" exclaimed the king The baroness paused, and retreated from before the sudden fury which flashed from his eyes. — " Go on !" cried he, " hide nothing, that my vengeance may lose nothing of its aim 1" She proceeded. /'Her majesty then talked of his beautiful eyes ; so blue, she said, so tender, yet proud in their looks ; and only a minstrel !* De Pontoise, added she, -<:an you explain that ? I, being rather perhaps too well leanied in the idle tales of our troubadours, heedlessly- answered, ' Perhaps he is some king in disguise, just come to look at your charms, and go away again i' She laughed much at this conceit, said he must be one of Pha- raoh's race then, and that had he not such white teeth his complexion would be intolerable. I being pleased to see her majesty in such spirits, thinking no ill, and be- ing in a rallying mxood, answered, ' I read once of a cer- tain Spanish lover who went to the court of Tunis to carry off the king's daughter ; and he had so black a face that none suspected him to be other than the Moorish VOL. II. p iro THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. prince of Granada; -when, lo ! and behold 1 one day ii; a pleasure party on the sea, he fell over-board, and came up with the fairest face in the world, and presently acknowledged himself to be the christian King of Cas- tle 1' The queen laughed at this story, but not answering me, went to bed. — Next morning when I entered her chamber, she received me with even more gayety, and putting aside my hair under my coiffure, said, " Let me sec if I can find the devil's mark here 1" * What is the matter?' I asked, 'Does your majesty take me for a witch ?' ' Exactly so,' she replied, ' for a little sprite told me last night, that all you said was true.' And then she began to tell me, with many smiles, that she had dreamt that the minstrel was the very prince of Portu- gal whom, unseen, she had refused for the king of Eng- land, and that he gave her a harp set with jewels. She then went to your majesty, and I saw no more of her till she sent for me late in the evening. She seemed ve- ry angry.—-' You are faithful,' said she to me, ' and you know me, De Pontoise, you know me too proud to de- grade myself, and too high-minded to submit to tyran- ny. The Countess of Gloucester, with persuasions too much like commands, will not allow me to see the minstrel any more.' She then declared her determina- tion that she would see him, that she vrould feign her- self sick, and he should come and sing to her when she was alone; and that she was sure he Vvas too modest to presume on her condescension. I said something to dis- suade her, but she over-ruled me ; and shame to my- self, I coPiSented to assist her. — She embraced me, and gave me a letter to convey to him, vvhich I did by slip- ing it beneath the ornaments of the handle of her lute, which I sent as an excuse for the minstrel to tune — It was to acquaint him with her intentions, and this night he was to have visited her apartm-ents." It was immediately apprehended by the council that this was the letter vvhich Soulis found. " And is this all you know of the affair ?" inquired Percy, seeing that she made a pause. " And enough too 1" cried Soulis, " to blast the most vaunted chastitj^ in Christendom.'* THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. in '* Take the woman home," cried the king; " send her to France, and never let me see her face more 1" The baroness withdrew in terror, and Edvv-ard calling on Sir Piers Gavcston, toki him to head the double guard that was to surround the Keep which held the object of liis officious introduction ; and taldng a file of men with him, q:o in person to bring the minstrel to receive his sentence. "For," cried the king, "be he prince or peasant, I will see him hanged before my eyes ; and then, return his wanton paramour, branded With infamy, to her disgraced family V* Sovilis now suggested, tlmt as the delinquent was to be found with Bruce, most likely that young nobleman was privy to his dcsif^-ns.— " We shall see to him here- after," replied the king, " meanwhile, look that I am obeyed." The moment this order passed the king's lips, Glou- cester, now not doubting the queen's guilt, hastened to warn Bruce of what had passed, that he might separate himself from the crime of the man he had protected ; but finding that the accused was no other than the uni- versally feared, universally beloved and generous Wal- lace, all other considerations were lost in the desire of delivering him from the impending danger. He knew the means, and he did not hcF/itate to employ them. During the recital of this narrative, Gloucester naF- jowly observed his auditor ; and by the ingenuous bursts of his indignation, and the horror he evinced at the crime he was suspected of having committed, the earl was fully convinced that the noble Scot had not possessed one wish with regard to the queen, that an- gels might not have registered. This ascertained, he now saw that her sentiments of him had not gone far- ther than a childish admiration, easily to be pardoned in an innocent creature hardly more than sixteen. " See," cried Wallace, " the power that lies with the describer of mictions ! The chaste mind of your countess, saw nothing in the conduct of the queen but thoughtless simplicity. The contaminated heart of the Baroness de Pontoise descried passion in every word, wantonness in every movement; and judging of her mistress by herself, she has wrought this mighty ruin. 172 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. How then docs it become virtue to admit the virU"iou:i only to her intimacy; for the vicious make her to be seen in their own colours ! Impress your king with this self-evident conclusion. And were it not for en- dangering the safety of Bruce, the hope of my country, I myself would return and stake my life on proving the innocence of the Queen of England. — But if a letter, with my word of honour, could convince the king — " " I accept the offer," interrupted Gloucester ; " I am "oo warmly the friend of Bruce ; too truly grp^teful to voUjto betray either into danger; but from Sunderland, .vhether I recommend you {p go, and to embark for -onie French port, write the declaration you mention? :ind enclose it to me. This means of clearing the in- ured Margaret, makes me alter itiy first intentions : Bruce shall be set at liberty before we leave Durham ; uid as soon as he is beyond the reach of harm from Sngland, I will contrive that the king shall have your etter without suspecting by \yhat channel; and then I "list that all will be well.*' During this discourse, they passed on through the vaulted passage, till arriving at a wooden crucifiK \vhich marked the halfway, and boundary of the domain of Durham, Gloucester stopped: — "I must not go farther. — Should I prolong my stay from the castle during the search for you, suspicion may be awakened. You must, therefore, now proceed alone. — Go straight forward, and at the extremity of the vault you will find u flag-stone, suriTiounted like the one with a cross by which w^e descended ; raise it, and it will let you into ihe cemetery of the Abbey of Fincklay. One end of this burying-plac;p, for some religious reason that I do not understand, is always open to the east. Thence you may emerge to the open world ; and may it, in fu- ture, noble Wallace, treat you ever according to your unequalled merits. Farewell I'* Wallace bade him adieu with similar expressions of esteem, and exchanging the warm embraces of friend- ship, the earl turned to retrace his steps ; and Wallace alone, pursued his way through the rayless darkness, •with a swift pace towards Uic Fincklay extremity of the vault. THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. US CHAP. XVL W ALLACE having emerged from his subterranean journey, according to the advice of Gloucester made direct to Sunderland, paid arrived there about day- break.* A vessel belonging to France (which, since the marriage of Margaret with Edward, had been at amity with England as v/ell as Scotland) was there, waiting the first favourable wind to set sail for Dieppe. Wal- lace secured a passage in her ; and going on board., wrote his promised letter to Edward.— It ran thus : ** This testimony, signed by my hand, is to assure Edward King of England, upon the word of a knight, that Margaret Queen of England, is in every respect guiltless of the crimes alleged against her by the Lord Soulis, and sworn toby the Baroness de Pontoise. I came to the court of Durham on an errand connected with my country; and that I might be unknown, I as- sumed the disguise of a minstrel. By accident I en- countered Sir Piers Gaveston, and ignorant that I v,a* other than I seemed, he introduced me at the royal banquet. It was there I first saw her majesty. — And I never had that honour but three times : one I have named ; the second was in your presence ; and the third and last, in her apartments, to v/hich you your- self saw me withdraw. The Countess of Gloucester was present the whole time ; and to her highness I ap- peal. The queen saw in me only a minstrel : on my art alone as a musician was her favour bestowed ; and by expressing it with an ingenuous warmth, which none other than an innocent heart vv^ould have dared display, she has thus exposed herself to the animadversions oi libertinism, and to the false representations of a terror- struck, because v/orthless, friend. I have escaped the snare which her enemies had laid for me : — and for her sake, for the sake of truth, and your own peace. King Edward, I declare before the searcher of all hearts, and before the world, in whose esteem I hope to live and die ; That your wife is inno- eent ! And should I ever meet the man who, after this declaratioDj dares to unite her name to mine ia at^ie of p ^ ri The SCOTTISH chiefs. infamy,— by the power of truth I swear, that I will make him write a recantation with his blood. Pure as a vir- gin's chastity is, and shall ever be, the honour of Wil- liam Wallace." This letter he enclosed in one to the Earl of Glou- cester, and having dispatched his packet by a hired messenger, to Durham, he gladly saw a bvisk Avind blow up from the north-west. The ship weighed an- chor, and under a fair sky cut the waves swiftly towards the Norman shores. But ere she reached them, the warlike star of Wallace, which still prevailed, bore down upon his little barque the terrific sails of the Red Reaver, (^"^ a formidable pirate which then infesting the Gallic seas, swept them of their commerce and insulted their navy. He attacked the French vessel ; but it car- ried a greater than Cascir and his fortunes : Wallace and his destiny were there — and the enemy struck to the Scottish chief. The Red Reaver, (so surnamed because of his red sails and sanguinary deeds,) was killed in the action : but his young brother, Thomas de Longueville, was found alive within the captive ship^ and to the astonishment of Wallace, accompanied by Prince Louis of France, whom the pirate had taken the day before on a sailing party. Adverse winds for some time prevented Wallace from reaching port witii his invaluable prize, but the fourth day from the capture, he cast anchor in the harbour of Dieppe. The indisposition of the princcjfrom a wound he had received in his own conflict witli the Reaver, made it necessary to apjgrize King P-^ilip of the acci- dent: — and in answer to Wallace's dispatches to that purpose, the grateful monarch repeated the proffers of personal friendship which had been the principal sub- ject of his last embassy, and added to them a pressing invitation that he would immediately accompany the prince to Paris, and receive from the throne a mark of royal gratitude, that should record his service done to France with due honour to future ages. Meanwhile, Philip sent him a suit of armour, with a request that he would wear it in remembrance of France and his own heroism. But no devoirs from a monarch, no offers of ^aggrandizement, could tempt Wallace from his dufy THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 175 Impatient to pursue his journey towards the spot where he hoped to meet Bruce, (whose interest was now so united with Scotland, that in serving one, he still proved his love for the other,) he wrote a respectful excuse to the king; and arraying himself in the monarch's mar- tial present, (to convince him by the evidence of his soit that he had so far obeyed the royal wish,) he joined the prince to bid him farewell. Louis was accompanied by young De Longueville, (whose pardon Wallace had obtained from the king, on account of the youth's ab- horrence to the use which his brother had compelled him to make of his brave arm :) — and the two, from different feelings, expressed their disappointment when they found that their benefactor was going to leave them. Wallace gave his highness a packet for the king, con- taining a brief statement of his vow to Lord Mar, and his promise, that when he had fulfilled it, Philip should see him at Paris. The royal cavalcade then separated from the deliverer of its prince, and Wallace mounting a richly barbed Arabian which had accompanied his splendid armour, took the road to Rouen. Night overtook him on a vast and trackless plain. The sky was so thick with clouds that not a star was visible, and the horse, terrified at such impenetrable darkness, and the difficulties of the path which was over a barren and stony moor, suddenly stopped. This arou- sed Wallace frov.i a long fit of musmg, to look onward. But on which way lay the road to Rouen, he could have no guess. To pass the night in so dreary a spot, was no pleasant contemplation, and spurring his animal, he determined to push forward to some lodging. He had ridden nearly an hour, when the dead silence of the scene was broken by the roll of distant thunder. Forked lightning shot from the horizon and shewed a line unmarked by any -vestige of human habitation. Still he proceeded. The storm approached, and brea- king in peals over his head, discharged such sheets of livid fire at his feet that the horse reare€, and plunging amidst the blaze, flashed an insufferable light from his rider's armour and his own, on the eyes of a troop of horsemen who stood under the tempest gazing with af- i>ight at the scene. Wallace, by the same transitory \76 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. illumination, saw the travellers as they seemed to^tapS back at his appearance ; and mistaking their sentiment, he called to them that his well-managed, though terri- fied steed, should do them no hurt. One of them ad- vanced, and respectfully inquired of him the way to Rouen. Wallace replied that he was a stranger in this part of the country ; but as he also was seeking that city, he would render them every assistance in hispov^ • er to find the path. While he was yet speaking, the claps of thunder became more tremendous, and the lightning seeming to roll in volumes along the ground, the horses of the troop became restive, and one of them throwing its rider, galloped, scared away, across the plain. Cries of terror, mingled with the groans«of the fallen person, excited the compsssion of Wallace : he rode towards the spot where the latter proceeded, and asked the nearest by-stander (for several had alighted,) whether his friend were much hurt? The man returned an answer full of alarm for the sufferer and anxiety to obtain some place of shelter, for the rain now began to fall. In a few minutes it increased to torrents, and ex- tinguishing the lightning, deepened the horrors of the scene, by preventing the likelihood of discovering any human abode. The poor men, now gathered round rheir fallen companion, and declaring that from his fee- ble state he must perish under such inclemencies: but Wallace cheered them, by saying he would seek a shel- ter for their friend, and that he would blow his bugle when he had found one. As he spoke, he turned his horse, and calling, as he galloped along, in the loudest tones of his voice, for any christian man who lived near to open his doors to a dying traveller ! after riding about in all directions, during a time that seemed an age, while a poor suffering creature was lying exposed to the torrents which were now rolling down his armour, he saw a glimmering light for a moment, and then all was darkness ; but a shrill female voice answered, *' I am a lone woman, and a widow ; but for the Virgin*s. sake I will open my door to you, whoever you may be.** The good woman re -lit her lamp, v/hich the rain had extinguished when she opened the casement ; and un- latching her door, Wallace briefly reliited v^'hat had. ( THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 177 happened, and entreated permission to bring the unfor- tunate traveller to her cottage. She readily consented, and giving him a lantern to guide his way, he blew his bugle, and was answered by so glad and loud a shout, that he was assured his companions could not be far distant, and that he must have made many an useless circuit before he had arrived at this benevolent mat- ron's. The men directed him through the darkness by their voices, for the lamp threw its beams but a very little way, and arriving at their side, by his assistence the bruised traveller, whom they said was their master^ was brought to the cottage. It was a poor hovel : but the pfood woman had spread a clean woollen coverlid over her own bed in the inner chamber, and thither Wallace carried the invalid, and laid him on the humble paHet. He seemed in great pain, but his kind conductor an- swered their hostess's inquiries respecting him, tliat he believed no bones v/ere broken. " Yet," added he, " I fear the effects of internal bruises on so emaciated a frame. Wallace then inquired for some herbs which usually grow in the poorest garden, to make a decoc- tion for the stranger. The old woman cheerfully went into hers to trather them, and shewed the attendants where they might put the horses under the shelter of an old ruined shed "\yhich projected from the hoveL Meanv.'hile the Sottish chief, assisted by the man who had been the spokesman of the troop, disengaged the sufferer from his wet garments, and covered him with the blankets of the bed. Recovered to recollection by the comparative comfort of his bodily feelings, the stranger opened his eyes. He fixed them on Wallace, then looked around, and turned to Wallace again. The attendant in a few words hastily related the parti- culars of what had happened. "Generous knight 1" cried the invalid, " I have nothing but thanks to offer for this kindness. You seem to be of the highest rank, and yet have succoured one whom the world abjures I You have shewn charity to the poorest, most degraded of men 1 Can it be possible that a prince of France has dared to act thus contrary to his peers 1" Wallace, not apprehending what had given ris^ to, 178 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. this question, supposed the stranger's wits were dis- ordered, and looked with that inquiry towards the at- tendant just at the moment when the old woman re-en- tered with the herhs, followed by a man wrapped in a black mantle. " Here," cried she, " is another tem- pest-beaten traveller ; I hope your honours will give him room by your fire !'* — V/hiie she spoke, the new- comer put up his visor ; h'/s eyes met those of Wallace, and the ejaculations, Wallace I — 'Bruce ! — burst at once from their hearts as they rushed into each other's arms. All present were lost to them in tli£ joy of ineeting so unexpectedly after so perilous a separation ; a joy, not confined for its object to their individual selves, each saw in the other the hope of Scotland ; and when they embraced, it was not merely vrith the ar- dour of friendship, but with the fires of patriotism re- joicing in the preservation of its chief dependance. While the friends, in their native tongue, freely spoke before a people who could not be supposed to under- stand them, the aged stranger on the bed reiterated his .moans. Wallace, in a fev/ words, telling Bruce the manner of his rencontre with the sick man, and his be- lief that he was disordered in his mind, drew towards the bed, and offered him some of the decoction which the woman had mftder The invalid took it, drank it, and looked earnestly first on "Wallace, and then on Bruce. " Pierre, withdraw." cried he to his a.ttendant. The man obeyed. " Sit down by me, noble friends,'* said he to the Scottish chiefs, ^'^ and read a lesson which I pray ye lay to your hearts i" Bruce glanced a look at Wallace, that declared he was of his opinion. Wal- lace drew a stool, while his friend seated himself on the bed.-— The old woman perceiving something extraordi- nary in the countenc.nce of the bruised stranger, thought he was going to reveal some secret heavy on his mind, and out of deliciicy withdrew. " You think that my intellects are injured," said he. turning to Wallace, " because i addressed you as one of the house of Philip! Those jev/elled lilies round your helmet led me into the error. I never before saw them granted to other than a prince of the blood. But think not, brave mto, I respect you less since I have THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 179 j discovered that you are not of the race of Philip, that you are other tlfan a prince !- — Look on me, at this ema- ciated form, and behold the reverses of all earthly gran- deur! — This palsied hand once held a sceptre, these hollow temples were once decorated with a crown! — - He that used to be followed as the source of honour, as the fountain of prosperity, with suppliants at his feet and flatterers at his side, would now be left to solitude, were it not for these few faithful old servants, who, in spite of all changes, have preserved their allegiance to the end. .Look on me, chiefs, and behold him who was the King of Scots." Both Wallace and Bruce, at this declaration, struck with suprise and compassion at meeting their ancient enemy, reduced to such abject misery, with one impulse bowed their heads to him with an air of reverence they would have started from, liad he been still the minion of Edward. The action penetrated the heart of Ba- liol : for when, at the mutual exclamation of the two friends on their first meeting in the hovel, he recog- nised in v>diose presence he lay, he fearfully remem- bered, that by his base submissions, he had turned the scale of judgment in his own favour, and defrauded the grandsire of the very Bruce now before him, of a fair decision on his rights to the crown! and when he looked on Wallace, who had preserved him from the effects of his accident, and brought him to a shelter from the raging terrors of the night, his conscience doubly smote him ; for, from the hour of his elevation to that of his downfall, he had ever persecuted the fa- mily of Wallace, and at an hour momentous for Scot- nd, had denied them the right of drav/ing their swords in the defence of Scotland. — He, her king, had resigned all into the hands of an usurper : but Wallace, the in- jured Wallace, had arisen like a star of light on the deep darkness of her captivity, and Scotland was once more free ! At first the exiled monarch had started at the irlaze of the uiiknown knight's jewelled panoply; now he shrunk before the brightness of his glory — and Tailing back on his bed, he groaned aloud. To these young men, so strangely brought before him, and both ■:>!l whom he had wronged, he detej-mined immediately >B0 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. I'D reveal himself, and see whether those he had harmed were equally resentful of injuries, as those he had served were ungrateful for benefits received. He spoke : and when, instead of seeing the pair rise in in- dignation on his pronouncing his name, they bowed their heads, and sat listening in respectful silence ; hisv desolate heart expanded at once to admit the long-es- ' tranged emotion of pleasure, and he burst into tears. He caught the hand of Bruce, who sat nearest to him, and stretching out the other to Wallace, exclaimed, '^ I have not deserved this goodness from either of you. ; Perhaps you two are the only men now living whom I ever greatly injured, and you, excepthig my four poor, attendants, are perhaps the only men existing who^ would compassionate my misfortunes!" " These are lessons, king," returned Wallace, in a^ respectful tone of voice, " to fit you for a better crown' than the one you so lately wore. And never, in my eyes, did the descendant of Alexander seem so worthy of his blood I" — The grateful monarch pressed his hand. — Bruce continued to gaze on him with a thou- sand av.ful thoughts occupying his m.ind. Baliol read in his expressive countenance the reflections Avhich chained his tongue. " Behold how low is laid the proud rival of your grandfather!" exclaimed he, turn- ing to Bruce. **' I compassed a throne I could not fill I. mistook the robes, the homage, for the kingly dignity. Ignorant of the thousand duties I was called upon to perform, I left them all undone. I bartered the liber- ties of my country for a crown I knew not how to wear, and the insidious traflacker reclaimed it, and threw me into prison. — There I expiated my crime against the gallant Bruce : not one of all the Scottish lords who J frequented Edward's court, ever came to beguile a1 moment of sorrov/ from their captive monarch. — Lonely I lived, for I was even deprived by the mandates of my tyrant of the comfort of seeing my fellow prisoner Lord Douglas, he whose attachment to my true interests had betrayed to an English prison. I never saw him after the day of his being put into the Tower, until that of }iis death." — Wallace interrupted him with an excla- ■■iution of surprise. "Yes/' added Baliolj ^' 1 myself THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 181 jclosed his eyes : at that awful hour he petitioned to see me, and the boon was granted. I went to him ; and then, with his dying- breath, he spoke truths to me which were indeed the messengers from heaven : they taught me what I was, and what I might be. He died : but Edward being then absent in Planders, and you, brave Wallace, triumphant in Scotland, and laying such a stress in your negotiations for the return of Douglas, the Southron cabinet agreed to conceal his death, and by making his name an instrument to excite your hopes and fear, turn your anxiety for him to their own advan- tage." The blood spread in deep scarlet over the face of Bruce : — " With what a race have I been so long connected I — What mean subterfuges, what dastardly deceits, for the leaders of a great nation to adopt! Oh ! Jiing !" exclaimed he, turning toBaliol, " If you have errors to atone for, what then must be the penalty of my sin, for holding so long with an enemy as vile as ambitious I — Scotland ! Scotland I I must weep tears of blood for this V He rose in agitation. — Baliol followed him with his eyes. " Amiable Bruce I you too severely arraign a fault that was venial in you. Your father gave himself to Edward, and his son ac- companied the tribute." Bruce vehemently answered, *' If King Edward ever said that, he uttered a falser hood. — My father loved him, confided in him, and the ingrate betrayed him ! — His fidelity was no gift of him- self in acknowledgment of inferiority : it was the pledge of a friendship exchanged on equal terms on the fields of Palestine : and well did King Edwilrd know that he had no right over either m;^ father or me, for, in the moment he doubted our attachment,^ 'he was aware of having forfeited it ; he knew he had le- gally no claim on us ; and forgetting every law, human and divine, he threw us into prison. But my father found liberty in the grave, and I am ready to shew him my power in " he would have added " Scot- land,*' but he forbore to give, perhaps, the last blow to tlie unhappy Baliol, by shewhig him that his kingdom had indeed passed from him, and that the man was be- VOL. II Q i82 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. fore him, destined to wield his sceptre. He stopped, and sat down in generous confusion. " Hesitate not," said Baliol, "to say where you will" shew your power ? I know that the brave Wallace has laid open the way. Had I possessed such a leader of my troops, I should not now be lying a mendicant in this hovel; I should not be a creature to be pitied and despised. — Wear him, Bruce, wear him in your heart's core. He gives the throne he might have filled." " Make not that a subject of extraordinary praise,'" cried Wallace, " which, if I had left undone, would have stamped me a traitor. I have only performed my duty : and may the Holy Anointer of the hearts of kings, guide him to his kingdom, and keep him there in peace and honour." I3aliol rose in his bed at these words : " Bruce," said he, approach me near." He obeyed. The feeble mo- narch turned to Wallace ; " You have supported what was my kingdom, through its last struggles for liberty : put forth your hand, and support its exiled sovereign j in his last regal act." Wallace obeying, raised the king so as to enable him to assume a kneeling pos- ture. Dizzy with the exertion, Baliol for a moment I ested on the shoulder of the chief, and then looking up, he saw Bruce gazing on him with compassionate interest. The unhappy monarch stretched out his arms to heaven : — " May God pardon the injuries which . my fatal ambition did to you and yours ; the miseries I brought upon my country ; — and let your reign redeem my errors ! May the spirit of wisdom bless you, my son !'* His hands were now laid with pious fervour on the headof Bruce, who, at this benediction §tink on his knees before him. " Whatever rights I had to tli^ crown of Scotland, by the worthlessness of my reign they are forfeited, and I resign all unto you even to the participation of the mere title of kmg ; and what was as the ghost of my former self, an accusing spirit to me, will I trust, be as an angel of light to you, to conduct your people into all happiness 1" exhaust- ed by his feelings, he sunk back into the arms of Wal- lace. — Bruce, starting from the ground, poured a little of the herb-balsam into the king's mouth; and he re-* THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. i8o* I vived. As Wallace laid him back on his pillow he gazed wistfully at him, and grasping his hand, said in a low voice, "How did I throw a blessing from me! But in those days, when I rejected your services at Dun- bar, I knew not the Almighty arm which brought the boy of Ellerslie to save his couiJlry ! — I scorned the patriot flame that spoke your mission, and the mercy of heaven departed from me 1** Memory v/as now busy with the thoughts of Bruce. I He remembered his father's weak if not criminal de- votion at that time to the interests of Edward ; he re- membered his heart-wrung death ; and looking at the desolate old age of another of Edward's victims, his biv.ve soul melted to pity and regret, and he retired in- to a distant part of the room to shed unobserved the tears he could not restrain. Wallace soon after saw the eyes of the exhausted king close in sleep : and cau- tious of awakening him, he did not stir ; but leaning against the thick oaken frame of the bed, was soon lost in as deep a repose. After some time of wordless stillness, (for the old dame, and the attendants, were at rest in the outward chamber,) Bruce, whose low sighs were echoed only by the wind which swept in gusts by the little case- ment, looked towards the abdicated monarch's Gouch. He slept profoundly, yet frequently started as if dis- turbed by troujbled drcc^ms. Wallace moved not on his hard pillow, and the serenity of perfect peace rested upon all his features : — "How tranquil is the sleep of the virtuous!" thought iJruce, as he contemplated the difference betv/een his state and that of Bailors; " there lies an accusing conscience ; here rests one of the most faultless of created beings. It is, it is, the sleep of innocence I — come ye slanderers," continued he, mentally calling on those he had left at Edward's court, " and tell me if an adulterer could look thus when he sleeps ! — Is there one trace of irregular pas- sion about that placid mouth ? Does one of those hea- venly-composed features bear testimony to emotions, which leave marks even when subdued ? — No; virtue has set up her throne in that breast, and well may kings come to bow to it !" 184 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. CHAP. XVII 1 HE entrance of the old woman about an hour after sun-rise, awakened Wallace ; but Baliol continued to sleep. On the chiel^'i opening his eyes, Bruce with a smile stretched out his hand W, him. Wallace ro«c, and whispering the widow to abide by her guest till they should return (for they intended to see him safe to his home,) he said they would refresh themselves ,vith a walk. The good dame curtseyed acquies- cence; and the friends cautiously passing the sleepers in the outer apartments, emerged to the cheerful breeze. A wood opened its umbrageous arms at a lit- tle distance, and thither, over the dew-bespangled grass, they bent their way. The birds sung from tree to tree ; and Wallace seating himself under an over- hanging larch which canopied a narrow winding of the river Seine, listened with mingled pain and'satisfac- tion to the communications v;hich Bruce had to impart relative to what had passed since his departure from Durham. He related, that the instant Wallace had followed the Earl of Gloucester from the apartment in ihe castle, it v/as entered by Sir Piers Gaveston. He dema.nded the minstrel. Bruce replied he knew not where he was. Gaveston, anxious by his zeal to con- vince the king that he was no accomplice with the sus- pected person, again addressed Bruce in a tone which he meant should intimidate him ; and, a second time put the q'.estion, "Where is the minstrel?" — "I know- not," replied Bruce. " And will you dare to tell me, earl," asked he, '' that within this quarter of an hour he has not been in this tower? nay, in this very room? — The guards in your antichamber have told me thait he was : — and can Lord Carrick stoop to utter a falsehood to screen a wandering beggar ?" While he "Was speaking Bruce stood eyeing him with increasing scorn. Gaveston paused — ^" You expect me to answer you ;" said the prince ; " out of respect to myself, I will ; for such is the unsullied honour of Robert Bruce, that even the air shall not be tainted THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 185 .with a slander against his truth, ^vithout being re-puri- fied by its confutation. Gaveston, you have known me five years: tw-o of them we past together in the jousts of Flanders, and yet you believe me capable of false- hood ! Know then, unworthy of the esteem I have be- stowed on you 1 that neither to save mean nor great, would I deviate from the strict line of truth. The man you seek may have been in this tower, in this room, as you now are ; and as little am I bound to know where he is when he quits it, as whither you go when you re- lieve me from an inquisition which I hold myself ac- countable to no man to answer.'* " 'Tis well ;" cried Ctaveston, " and I am to carry this haughty message to the king?" " If you deliver it as a message," answered Bruce, " you will prove that they who are ready to suspect falsehood, find its utterance easy. My reply is to you. When King Edward speaks to me, I shall find an answer that is due to him." " These attempts to provoke me into a private quarrel,'* cried Gaveston, " will not succeed. I am not to be so foiled irom my duty. I must seek for the man throughout your apartments.'* -" By whose authority ?" demand- ed Bruce. " By my own, as the loyal subject of my outraged monarch. He bade me bring the traitor be- fore him, and thus I obey." As Ga?veston spoke, he beckoned to his men to follow him to the door whence Wallace had disappeared. Bruce threw himself be- fore it : "I must forget the duty I owe to myself, be- fore I allow you or any other man to invade my privacy. I have already given you the answer that becomes Ro- bert Bruce ; and as you are a knight, instead of compel- ling, I request you to withdraw." Gaveston hesitated : but he knew the determined character of his opponent ; and therefore with no very good grace, muttering that he' should hear of it from a more powerful quarter, he left the room. And certainly his threats were not in this instance vain ; for, in the course of a few minutes a marshal at =• tended by a numerous retinue, made his appearance, to force Bruce before the king. ^' Robert Bruce, Earl of Cleaveland, Carrick, and q2 .8G THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. Annandale, I come to summon you into the presence of your liege lord Edward of England." " The Earl of Cleaveland obeys," said he, and with a fearless step he walked out before the marshal. When he entered the presence-chamber, Sir Piers Gaveston stood beside the royal couch, as if prepared to be his accuser. The king sat, supported by pillows, paler "vvith the mortifications of his jealousy and baffled au- thority, than by the effects of his wounds, — " Robert Bruce T' cried he, the moment his eyes fell on him; but the sight of his mourning habit made a stroke upon his heart that sent out drops of shame in large globules on his forehead, — he paused, wiped his face with his handkerchief, and resumed — " Are you not afraid, pre- sumptuous young man, thus to provoke your sovereign ? Are you not afraid that I shall make that audacious head answer for the man whom you thus dare to screen ifom ^ny just revenge ?" Bruce felt the many injuries he had suffered from this proud king rush at once upon his memory ; and without changing his position, or low- ering the lofty expression of his looks, he firmly ans- wered — " The judgment of a just king I cannot fear; the sentence of an unjust one, I despise.*' *' This to his majesty's face ?" exclaimed Soulis. "Inso- lence — Rebellion — Chastisement — nay, even death !" ■were the v/ords that were heard murmuring round the Toom, at the honest reply. Edward had too much good sense to echo any one of them ; but turning to Bruce with a sensation of shame he would gladly have repres- sed, he caid, that in consideration of his youth he would pardon him what had passed, and reinstate him in all the late Earl of Carrick's honours, if he would im- mediately declare where he had hidden the offending TninstrcL '' I have not hidden him ;" cried Brucp << nor do I know where he is: but had that been confid- ed to me, as 1 know him to be an innocent man, no power on earth should have wrenched him from me !" " Self-sufficient boy 1" exclaimed Earl Buchan, with a laugh of contempt, '* Do you flatter yourself that he would trust such a novice as you are, with secrets of this nature?" Bruce turned on him an eye of fire. .«-" Buchan/' replied he, '< 1 will answer you on other THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 187 ground. Meanwhile remember, that the secrets of good men are open to every virtuous heart ; those of II the wicked, they would be glad to conceal from them- E selves.'^ i| "Robert Bruce," cried the king, " before I came ;| this northern journey I ever found you one of the most ; devoted of my servants, the gentlest youth in my court ; ji and how do I see you now ? Braving my nobles to my i face I How is it that until now this spirit never broke i forth ?" " Because,** answered the prince, " until t now, I had never seen the virtuous friend whom you I call upon me to betray/* " Then you confess," cried jj the king, "that he was an instigator to rebellion T* " I I avow,*' answered Bruce, " that I never knew what true I loyalty was, till he taught it me ; I never knew the na- ture of real chastity, till he explained it to me ; and allowed me to see in himself, incorruptible fidelity, bra- very undaunted, and a purity of heart not to be contam- inated 1 And this is the man on whom these lords would fasten a charge of treason and adultery 1 But out of the filthy depths of their own breasts, arise the steams with which they would blacken his fairness." " Your vindication," cried the king, "confirms his guilt. — You admit that he is not a minstrel in reality. — - Wherefore then did he steal in ambuscade into my pa- lace, but to betray either my honour or my life, or per- haps both?" "His errand here, was to see me.'^ '* Rash, boy :" cried Edward, " then you acknowledge yourself a premeditated conspirator against me ?" Soulis now whispered in the king's ear, but so low that Bruce did not hear him ; " Penetrate farther, my liege ; this may be only a false confession to shield the queen's character. For she who has once betrayed her duty., ; finds it easy to reward such handsome advocates." The scarlet of inextinc^uishable wrath now burnt on the face of Edward — " Iwill confront them," thought he, " and surprise them into betraying each other." By his orders the queen was brought in, supported by the Countess of Gloucester. " Jane,*' cried the king, " leave that woman ; let her impudence sustain her." " Rather her innocence my lord," said the countess bowing, and h€sitating to obey. " Leave her 158 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. to that," returned the incensed husband, " and she would grovel on the earth like her own base passions : but stand before me she shall ; and without oAer sup- port than the devil's within her '* "For pity !" cried the queen, extending her clasped hands towards Ed- ward, and bursting into tears ; " have mercy on me, for I am innocent !" " Prove it then," cried the king, " by agreeing with this confident of your minstrel, and at once tell me by what name you addressed him when you allured him to my court ? Is he French, Spanish, or English?" " By the Virgin's holy purity I swear!" cried the queen, sinking on her knees, " that I never allured him to this court; — I never beheld him till I saw him at the bishop's banquet ; and for his name, I know it not." " O ! vilest of the vile 1" cried the king, in a paroxysm of fury throwing a missal which lay on his couch, at her head ; " and didst thou become a wan- ton at a glance ! — From my sight this moment, or I shall blast thee?" /rhe queen fainted, and dropt senseless into the arms of the Earl of Gloucester, who at that moment returned from seeing Wallace through the cavern. At sight of him, Bruce knew that his friend was safe ; and fearless for himself, when the cause of outraged innocence was at stake, he suddenly exclaimed, "By one word. King Edward, I will confirm the blamelessness of this in- jured queen. Listen to me, not as a monarch, and an enemy, but with the unbiassed judgment of man with Bian, and then ask your own brave heart, if it would be possible for Sir William Wallace to be a seducer? Every mouth was dumb at the enunciation of that name. None dared open a lip in accusation ; and the king himself, thunder-struck alike with the boldness of his conqueror venturing within the grasp of his re- venge, and at the daringness of Brucu in thus declaring his connexion with him; for a few minutes knew not what to answer: only, he had received conviction of his wife's innocence ! He was too well acquainted with the history and uniform conduct of Wallace, to doubt his honour in this transaction ; and though a transient fancy of the queen's might have hud existeiice, vet he had now Jio suspicion of her actions. " Bruce," said THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 189 lie, " your honesty has saved the Queen of England, Though Wallace is my enemy, I know him to be of an integrity which neither man nor woman can shake ; and therefore," added he, turning to the lords, '^ I declare before all who have heard me so fiercely arraign my in- jured wife, that I believe her innocent of every offence against me. And whoever, after this, mientions one word of what has passed in these investigations, or even whispers that they ever have been held, shall be punished as guilty of high treason.'* Bruce was then ordered to be re-conducted back to the round tower ; and the rest of the lords withdrawing by command, the king was left with Gloucester, his daughter Jane, and the now reviving queen, to make his peace with her, even on his knees. Bruce was more closely immured than ever. Not even his senachie was allowed to approach him, and double guards were kept constantly on the watch around his prison. On the fourth day of his seclusion, an extra row of iron bars was put across his windows. He asked the captain of the party, the reason of this new rivet on his captivity, but he received no answer. His own re- collection, however, solved the doubt ; for he could not but see that his declaration respecting his friendship with Wallace, had so alarmed Edward that his present confinement was likely to terminate in death. One of the sentinels, on having the same inquiry put to him which Bruce had addressed to his superiour, in a rough tone told him that he had best not ask too siany questions, Jest he should hear that his majesty had determined to keep him under Bishop Beck*s pad-lock for life. Bruce -was not to be deprived of hope by a single evidence, and smiling, said — " There are more ways of getting out of a tyrant's prison, than by the doors and windows 1" *' Why, you would not eat through the walls ?" cried the man. " Certainly," replied Bruce, " if I have nc other way ; and through the guards too." — ^ — " We'll : see to that,'* answered the man. " And feel it too, my sturdy soldier;" returned the prince, " so look to your- self.'* Bruce threw himself carelessly into a chair as he spoke ; and the man eyeing him askance, and remem- bering how strangely the minstrel had disappeared 190 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. from within the walls of the tower, now began to think that people born in Scotland inherited some natiiral necromantic power of executing wliatever they deter- mined. " And I am determined," muttered he to himself; " never again to take this guard while a Scot- tish lord remains in the castle I" Bruce, though careless in his ma.nner of treating the soldier's information, thought of it with some de- gree of anxiety ; as certainly the additional barricadoes did argue a longer sojourn in his prison than he had at first anticipated. Lost in reflections chequered with hope and doubts of his ever effecting his escape from such an iron prison, he remained immoveable on the spot where the smiths and the soldier had left him, till another sentinel brought in his lamp. He set it down in silence, and withdrew ; and then Bruce heard the bolts on the outside of his chamber door pushed into their guards. — " There they go T' said he to himself; " And those are to be the morning and evening sounds to which I am to listen all my days ! At least Edward would have it so. Such is the gratitude he shews to the man who restored to him his wife ; who restored to him the consciousness of yet possessing that unsullied hon- our, which is so dear to every married man !^ — Well, Edward ; kindness might bind generous minds even to forget their rights ; but thanks to you, neither in my own person, nor for any of my name, do I owe you apught but a sight of me as King of Scotland : and, please God, that you shall see ; if the prayers of one that trusts in him, can, like the ministering angels to Peter, open these double steeled gates to set me free !" While invocations to the power in Avhich he confided and resolutions respecting the consquences of his hop- ed for liberty, by turns occupied his mind, he heard the light tread of afoot in the adjoining passage. He list- ened breathlessly, for no living creature, he thought could be in that quarter of the building, as he had suf- fered none to enter it since by it Wallace had disap- peared. He half rose from his couch, as the door at which he had seen him last, gently opened. He started lip, and Gloucester, withahntern in his hand, stood be- fore him. The earl put his finger on his lip, and taking y THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 191 Bru«e by the hand, led him, as he had done WallacCj do'vn into the vault which leads to Fincklay Abbey. When once in that subterraneous cloister with the entrance firmly secured behind them, as they advanced along, the earl replied to the impatient gratitude of Bruce, (who saw that the generous Gloucester meant that he should follow the steps of his friend ;) by giving him a succinct account of his motives for changing his first determination,' and now giving him liberty. He had not visited Bruce since the escape of Wallace, that he might not excite any new suspicion in Edward ; and the tower being fast locked at every usual avenue, he had now entej-ed it from the Fincklay side. He then pro- ceeded to inform Bruce, that after his magnanimous for- getfulness of his own safety to insure that of the queen liad produced a reconciliation between her and her hus- band, Lord Buchan, Soulis, and Athol, and one or two English lords, joined next day to persuade the king that Bruce's avowal respecting Wallace having been really in the castle, was an invention of his own to screen some baser friend and his royal mistress. They succeeded in re -awakening some doubts in Edward, who sending for Gloucester, said to him, " Unless I could hear from Wallace's own lips, and (that in my case is impossible,) that he has been here, and that my wife is guiltless of this foul stain, I must ever remain in horrible suspense. These cruel Scots, ever fertile in maddening sugges- tions, have made me even suspect that Bruce had other reasons for his apparently generous risk of himself, than a love of justice." While these ideas floated in the mind of Edward, Bruce was more closely immured. And Gloucester having received the promised letter from Wallace, de- termined to lay it before the king. Accordingly, on the first opportunity, the earl, one morning, stole unobserv- ed into the presence chamber before Edward was brought in. He laid the letter under his majesty's cushion. As Gloucester expected, the moment the king saw the su- perscription he knew the hand, and read the letter twice over to himself without speaking a word. But the clouds which had hung on his countenance all passed away; emd with a smile reaching the packet to Glou- m THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. cester, he desired him to read aloud that silencer of all doubts respecting the honour of the queen. Glouces- ter obeyed : and the astonished nobles, looking on each other, one and all assented to the credit that was to be given to Wallace's word, and deeply regretted having ever joined in the suspicion against her majesty— Thus then all appeared amicably settled. But the embers of discord still glowed. The three Scottish lords, afraid that Bruce would again be taken into favour, laboured to shew that his friendship with Wallace pointed to his throwing off the English yoke and independently as- suming the Scottish crown. Edward gave too ready credence to these insinuations ; and complied with Bishop Beck's request, to allow him to hold the royal youth his prisoner. But while the Cummins won this victory over Bruce, they gained nothing for themselves. They had ventured, during the king's vain inquiries respecting the manner in which Wallace's letter had been conveyed to his apartment, to throw out some hints of Bruce having been the agent by some secret means ; and that he, however innocent the queen might be, cer- tainly, by such solicitude for her exculpation, evinced an interest in her person which might prove dangerous. These latter inuendoes, the king crushed in the first whisper. " I have done enough with Robert Bruce ;" said he, " he is condemned a prisoner for life ; and mere suspicions shall never provoke me to give sentence for. his death." Irritated with this reply and the contemp- tuous glance which accompanied it, the vindictive tri- umvirate turned from the king to his court; and having failed in compassing the destruction of Bruce and his more renowned friend, they determined at least to make a wreck of their moral fame. The guit of Wallace and the queen, and -the participation of Bruce, were now whispered through every circle ; and credited in proportion to the evil dispositions of the hearers. One of his pages at last brought to the ears of the king the stories which these lords so busily circulated ; and sending for them, he gave them so severe a repri- mand, that retiring from his presence in stifled wrath, they determined to accept the invitation of young Lord Badenoch, return to their country, and support him in THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 193 the regency. Next morning, Edward was informed that they had secretly left Durham, with all their follow- ers ; and fearing that Bruce might also make his es- cape, a consultation was held between the king and Beck? of so threatening a complexion, that Gloucester no lon« ger hesitated immediately to fulfil his pledged word to Wallace, and give the Scottish prince his liberty. When he was free the utmost that he could effect against Ed- [ward, would be to assume the crown of Scotland : " And. |that," thought Gloucester, " is only his right. Hence I cannot believe I am d«ing a disloyal thing to my king, when I obey the holy injunction : Helti the ojifiressed to his otvn ; and partake not in the iniquity of the evil doers .'" Impelled by these sentiments, Gloucester led Bruce in safety through the vaulted passage ; and taking an affectionate leave of him, they parted in the cemetery of Fincklay ; Gloucester, to walk back to Durham by the banks of the Wear : and Bruce, to mount the horse the good earl had prepared, and left tied to a tree, to convey him to Hartlepool. There he embarked for Normandy. When \ic arrived at Caen, he did not delay ; but pursu- ing his way across the country towards Guienne, where he hoped to meet Wallace, night and the storm over- took him ; he lost his way ; and after much wandering, at last, directed by the lights which glimmered from the cottage windows, he reached the door, begged for shel- ter — " And," added he, " was compensated for every toil and suffering, by the sight of my best and dearest friend 1" The discourse next turned on their future plans. Wallace, having mentioned his adventure with the Red Keaver, and the acknowledgments of Philip for the res- cue of his son, proposed that the favour he should ask in return, (as the King of France seemed very earnest to bestow on him some especial mark of gratitude ;) would be his interference with Edward to grant the Scots a peaceable retention of their rights, " And then," said he to Bruce, " you will take possession of your kingdom, with the olive branch in your hand." Bruce ohHed, but shook his head ; " And what then will Ro- cai:^ Bruce be ? A king, to be sure I but a king without Vi. II. R 194 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. a name. Who won me my kingdom ? Who accomplish^ ed this peace ? Was it not William Wallace ? Can I then consent to mount the throne of my ancestors, so poor, so inconsiderable a creature ? I am not jealous of your fame, Wallace ; I glory in it ; for you are more to me than the light to my eyes : but I would prove my right to the crown by deeds worthy of a sovereign. Till I have so shewn myself in the field against Scotland's enemies, I cannot consent to be restored to my inheri- tance, even by you.'* " And is it in war alone," returned Wallace, " that? you can shew deeds worthy of a sovereign ? Think a moment, my dear friend, and then scorn your objection. Look around on the annals of history ; nay, before your eyes, on the daily occurrences of the world, and see how many are brave and complete generals ; how few, "wise legislators, and such efficient rulers as to produce obedience to the lav/s, and happiness to the people. This is the commission of a king : to be the represen- tative on earth of our father who is in heaven. Here is exercise for courage, for enterprise, for fortitude, for every virtue which elevates the character of man : this is the god-like jurisdiction of a sovereign. To go to the field, to lead his people to scenes of carnage, is of- ten a duty in kings ;. but it is one of those necessities which, more than the trifling circumstances of sustain- ing nature by sleep and food, reminds the conqueror of the degraded state of mortality. The one shews the weakness of the body, the other, the corruption of the soul. For how far must man have fallen beneath his j former heavenly nature, before he can delight in the destruction of his fellow men ! Lament not, then, brave and virtuous prince, that I have kept your hands from the stains of blood. Shew yourself beyond the vulgar appreciation of what is fame ; and conscious of the powers with which the Creator has endowed you, as- sume your throne with the dignity that is their due : — and whether it be in the cabinet or iii^he field that He calls you to act, there obey, and rely on it that a name greater than that of the hero of Macedon will aw?.h, Robert King of Scots !" " You almost persuade mord -eturned Bruce. <' But let us see Philip and then I in in ^-leride." THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 195 I As the morning was now advanced, the friends turned 'towards the cottage, intending to see Baliol safe at I Rouen, and then proceed together to Guienne to the 1 rescue of Lady Helen; after which, they hoped suc- Icessful enterprise, they would visit Paris, and hear its ^monarch's determination. I On entering the hovel they found Baliol awake, and 1 anxiously inquiring of the widow what was become of jthe two young knights. At sight of them he stretched out his hands to both, and said he was so revived by lliis sleep, that he should be able to travel in a few Ihours. Wallace proposed sending to Rouen for a lit- jter to carry him the more easily thither. " No," cried I Baliol with a frown, " Rouen shall never again see me I within its walls. It was coming from thence that I lost imy way last night; and though my poor servants would have gladly returned thither with me, sooner than suf- fer me to perish in the storm ; yet, rather would I have been found dead on the road, a reproach to the kings who have betrayed me, than have taken an hour's 1 shelter in that inhospitable city." j After some questions from the friends, Baliol, while j! they took the simple breakfast prepared for them by the i widow, related, that in consequence of the interference of Philip le Bel with Edward, he had been released jfrom the Tower of London, and sent to France, under ! an oath never again to leave that country. Philip then 1 gave the exiled king the Castle of Galliard for a resi- [ dence, where he was soon joined by several of his old I adherents from Scotland. But his luxurious son, una- ble to exist divided from the pleasures of a gay court, abandoned his father, and went to Navarre ; madly hoping to be elevated to the hand of its sovereign's daughter. Baliol for some time enjoyed his shadow of royalty at Galliard ; as he still had a sort of court, com- posed of the followers who were with him, and of the barons in the neighbourhood. Philip allowed hira guards, and a spjh^ndid table. But on the peace being signed between France and England ; that Edward might give up his ally the Earl of Flanders to his offended liege lord, Philip consented to relinquish the cause of Baliol, and though he should still give hirr^ 196 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. shelter in his dotninions, remove from him all tlie ap- pendages of a king. "Accordingly," continued Baliol, "the guard was- taken from my gates, my establishment was reduced to that of a private nobleman ; and no longer having it in my power to gratify the avidity, or to flatter the ambi- tion of those who came about me, I was soon left alone. All but the poor old men whom you sec, and who had been faithful to me through every change of my life, instantly deserted the forlorn Baliol. But they remain- ed ; and from being servants, they became my com- panions ; for none other ever appealed within the walls of Galliard. In vaih I remonstrated with Philip : either my letters never reached him, or he disdained to an- swer the man whose cause he could abandon. Things were in this state, when the other day an English lord, who had been stranded off the coast, brought his suite to my castle. I received him with hospitality; but soon found that what I gave in kindness, he seized as a right ; — in the true spirit of his master Edward, he treated me more like the keeper of an inn than a gener- ous host: and such was his insolence, on my attemp-ting to plead with him for a Scottish lady whom his turbu- lent passions has forced from her country and reduced to a pitiable state of illness, that he laughed at my arguments, and told me, that had I taken more care of my kingdom, the door would not have been left open for him to steal away its fairest prize ." Wallace interrapted him — " Heaven grant that you may be speaking of Lord de Valence and Lady Helen Mar 1*' « I am," replied Baliol, " but surely Sir Wil- liam Wallace cannot rejoice in his countrywoman being likely to be made tlie compulsive property of any Southron lord ?" " No ;'* replied he, " but I rejoice in finding them so near, I rejoice in the opportunity of so soon performing my word to her dying father, in rescu- ing her from the villain's arms." " They are now at Galliard," returned Baliol, " and as her illness seems a lingering one, De Valence declared to me his inten- tions of continuing there. He seized upon the best apartments, and carried himself with so much haughti- ness that, provoked beyond endurance, I ordered my THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS, 197 horse, and accompanied by my honest men rode to Rouen to obtain redress from the governor. But the unworthy Frenchman told me with a look of derision 5 that his master having more respect for one English earl than for all the dethroned monarchs in Christen- dom, he advised me to go back, and by flattering De Valence, try to regain the favour of Edward. I retired in indignation, determining to assert my own rights in my own castle ; but the storm overtook me, and after being abandoned by my friends, I was saved by my ene- mies." — — " Then you mean now to return to Galli- ard?" — inquired Wallace. " Immediately : and if you will go with me, I will engage, if the lady consent^ (and that I do not doubt, for she scorns all his prayers for her hand, and passes night and day in tears ;) to as- sist in her escape." " That,*' Wallace replied, " was precisely what I was going to request." Baliol advised that they should not all return to the- castle together, as the sight of two knights of their appearance accompanying hisvvhost, would alarm De Valence; — and so some bloody fray might succeed* •* The quietest way/' said the deposed king, " is the surest. Follow me at a short distance ; and towards the shadows of evening knock at the gates and request a night's entertainment. I will grant it; and then your happy destiny, evey fortunate Wallace, must do the rest." This scheme being approved, a litter of hurdles was soon formed for the invalid monarch, and the old wo- man's pallet spread upon it, " I will return it to youj my good widow," said Baliol, " and with other proofs of my gratitude." The two friends then assisted the king to rise. And when Baliol set his foot to the floor, he felt so surprisingly better, that he thought he could ride the journey. Wallace over-ruled this wish for fear of further delays ; and with Bruce, supported his emaciated figure towards the door. The widow stood to see her guests depart. Baliol, as he mounted his travelling machine, put a piece of gold into her hand. Wallace saw not what the king had given, and gave a purse as his reward. Bruce had nought to bestow» He had left Durham with little, and that little was ex- 198 TPIE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. pendecl. " My good widow," said he, " I am poor in every thing but gratitude. In lieu of gold you must accept my prayers !" " May they, sweet youth," replied she, " return on your own head, and give you bread from the barren land, and water out of the sterile rock !" " And have you no blessing for me, mother 1" said Wallace, tifirning round, and regarding her with an impressive look ; " Some spirit that you wist not of, speaks in your words." " Then it must be a good spirit,'* answered she, " for all that is around me be- tokens gladness. The scripture saith. Be kind to the ■-^•^ay 'faring 7nan, for many have so entertairied a?igeU miaivares / Yesterday at this time, I was poor and in misery. Last night I opened my doors in the storm, you entered and gave me riches, he follows and endows me with his prayers ! Am I not then greatly favoured by him who giveth bread to all who trust in him ? From this day forth, I will light a fire each night in a part of tny house where it must be seen on every side from a great distance. Like ) ou, princely knight, whose gold will make it burn, it shall shine afar, and give light and comfort to all who approach it." " And when you look on it," said Wallace, " tell your beads for me. I am a son of war; and it may blaze when my vital spark is just expiring." The widow paused, gazed on him steadily, and then burst into tears. *' And is it possi- ble that beautiful face may be laid in dust, that youth- ful form, lie cold in clay, and these aged limbg survive to light a beacon to your memory ! and it shall arise I It shall burn like a holy flame, an incense to heaven f«r the soul of him who has succoured the feeble, and made the widow's heart to sing for joy i" Wallace pres- sed the old woman's withered hand : Bruce did the same. She saw them mount their horses, and when they disappeared from her eyes, she returned into her cottage and wept. THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS, 199 CHAP. XVIII. W^HEN Baliol arrived within a few miles of Chateau Galliard, he pointed to a wood, and told Wallace that under its groves he had best shelter himself till the set- ting sun ; soon after which he should expect him and Bruce at the castle. Long indeed seemed the interval. It usually hap- pens that in contemplating a project, w^hile the period of its execution appears distant, we think on it with composure ; but when the time of action is near, when w^e only wait the approach of an auxiliary, or the lapse of an hour ; every passing moment appears an age, and the impatient soul seems ready to break every bound to grasp the completion of its enterprise. So Wallace now felt; feltas he had never done before: for in all his warlike exploits, each achievement had followed the moment of resolve ; but here, he was delayed to grow in ardor as he contemplated an essay in which every generous principle of man was summoned into action. He was going to rescue from the hands of a ravisher,the daugh- ter of a brave veteran, his first friend in the great strug- gle, one who had fallen in the cause. A daughter who, by her intrepidity had once saved Scotland ; a helpless woman in the hands of a man of violence ! Glad was he then to see the sun sink behind the western hills, Bruce and he closed their visors, mounted their horses, and set off on full speed towards the chateau. When they came in view of the antique towers of Galliard, they slackened their pace and more leisurely advanced to the gates. The bugle of Wallace dem^i- ded admittance ; a courteous assent wre, shook her with such strong emotions that Wallace feared to see her delicate frame expire in the tumult, or at least find repose in some deadly swoon. Alarmed for her life, or the accomplishment of her deliverance, he threw himself on his knees beside her, and softly whis- pered, "Be composed, for the love of heaven and your own safety ! be collected and firm, and you shall fly this place with me to-night." Helen with all the fervor of her grateful soul, hardly conscious of the action, grasped the hand that held hers and replied " I vvill obey, command me, I will obey/' ;-"Then request me, vehemently and loudly, to leave the room, and strike the lamp from my hand.'' Helen again looked towards him, but v/hile her lips obeyed, her heart checked the words, and fee- ble was the injunction with which she bade him leave her. Conscious of it, she blushingiy repeated the command with some energy, and struck the lamp from his hand. Wallace immediately set his foot on it, and they were left in darkness. With a voice loud enough for the women to distinctly hear, (who were curiously listening, though they could not before make out any thing but that Lady Helen was in great agitation) he re- proached her for her violence, and added, " I leave you to the darkness you have brought upon- yourself; and I command that you neither spe?.k to your attend- ants, nor answer their questions, nor have another light in your room, till you see me again." He then whispered to her to rise from her bed, and allow him in this favourable obscurity to lead her from the chamber, Helen spoke not, but in a tremor of timid delight, threw a dressing gown over her, which always lay on her pil- low, and putting her feet into her slippers, stretched out her hand to Wallace. He took it. It was cold with agitation; and finding that weakness and emotion de- prived her of the pov/er to sustain her steps over the floor; he gently took her in his arms, and once more turning to the bed, said " Farewell cruel Helen 1" and with cautious steps he bore her through the door. To meet any of De Valence's men in the passages, while in this situation, would betray all. To avoid this, he hastened through the illuminated galleries, and turning VOL. II. s 206 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. t into the apartment appointed for himself, laid his al- most fainting burthen upon the bed. " Water ?'* said she, " and I shall revive." He gave her some, and at the same time laying a page's suit of clothes (which Ba- liol had provided) down beside her. " Dress yourself in these, Lady Helen," said he. "I shall withdraw meanwhile into the passage, but as soon as you are ready, come to the door, for your safety depends on expedition." Before she could answer he had disappeared. And Helen having instantly thrown herself on her knees to thank God foe this commencement of her deliverance, and to beseech his blessings on its consummation, she rose stj^e^ngthened : and obeying Wallace, the moment j she waS'€(iuipped she laid her hand upon the latch, but J the watchful ear of her friend heard her, and he imme- diately opened the door. The lamps of the gallery sho;^ full upon the light grace of her figure, as shrink- ing%ith blushing modesty, and yet eager to be with her preserver, she stood hesitating before him. He threw his cloak over her, and putting her arm through his, in the unobscured blaze of his princely armour, descended to the low^er hall of the castle. One man only was there. Wallace ordered him to open the great door. — " It is a fine night," said he, " and I shall ride some miles before I sleep." — The man asked if he were to saddle the horses, — he was answered in the affirmative; and the gate being immediately unbarred, Wallace led his precious charge into the freedom of the open air. As soon as she saw the outside of those towers which she had so lately entered as the worst of all prisoners, her heart so overflowed with gratitude to her deliverer, that sinking by his side upon her knees, she could only grasp his hand and bathe it with the pure tears of res- cued innocence. Her manner penetrated his soul ; he raised her in his arms : but she, dreading that she had perhaps done too much, convulsively articulated— " My father — his blessing " " Was a rich endow- ment. Lady Helen," returned he, " and you shall ever find me deserving it." Her head leaned on his breast. But how difi'erent was the lambent flame which seem- ed to mingle in either heart as they now beat against THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 2CV each other, from the destructive iirc which shot froiii the burning veins of Lady Mar when she would have polluted with her unchaste lips this shrine of a beloved wife, this bosom consecrated to her sacred image !— Wallace had shrunk from her as from the touch oi' some hideous contagion. But with Lady Helen, it v/as soul meeting soul : it was innocence resting on the bosom of virtue. No thought that saints would nC have approved was there ; no emotion which angels might not have shared, glov/ed in their grateful bo- soms — She, grateful to him ; both grateful to God. The man brought the horses from t|ie stable. He knew tluit two strangers had arrived at the castle, and not noticing Helen's stature, he supposed that they were both before him. He had been informed by the servants, that the taller of the two was the Count de Valois, and he now held the stirrup for him to mount. — But Wallace first placed Helen on Brace's horse, and then vaulting on his own, put a piece of gold into the attendant's hand. " You will return, noble prince ?" inqiuFed the man. " Why should you doubt it ?" an- swered Wallace. " Because," replied the servant, " I wish the brother of the King of France to ivnow the foul deeds Avhich are done in his dominions." " By whom V asked Wallace, much surprised at this address^ " By the Earl de Valence, prince," answered he ; " he has now in this castle a beautiful lady whom he brought from a foreign land aud treats in a manner unbecom- ing a knight or a man." — " And what v/ould you have me do?" said Wallace, willing to judge whether this applicant were honest in his appeal. " Come in the power of your royal brother," answered he, " and de- mand the Lady Helen Mar of Lord de Valence." Helen, who had listened with trepidation to this dia- logue, drew nearer Wallace, and in an agitated whisper said, " Ah I let us hasten away !" The man was close enough to hear her. "Hah 1" cried he, in a burst of doubtful joy, " Is it so ? Is she here ? say so, noble knight, and Rollo Grimsby will serve ye both for ever!" — "Grimsby!" cried Helen, recollecting liis voice the mQment he had deJared his name, " What; J08 THE SGOTTISII CHIEFS. ^{ the honest English soldier ? — I, and my preserver will indeed value so trusty a follower." The name of Grimsby was too familiar to the me- mory of Wallace, too closely associated with his most cherished meditations, for him not to recognise it with melancholy pleasure. He had never seen Grimsby, b,\it he knew him well worthy of his confidence, and ordering him (if he really desired to follow Lady He- len) to bring two more horses from the stables ; as soon as they were brought, he made the joyful signal concerted with Bruce : as soon as he and his charge were out of the castle, he was to sound the Scottish pryse with his bugle. The happy tidings met the ear of Bruce, who sat anx- iously watching the sleep of De Valence, for fear he should awake, and leaving the room, interrupt Wal- lace in his enterprise. What then was his transport, when the first note of the horn burst upon the silence around him. — He sprang on his feet. The impetuosi- ty of the action waked Baliol. Bruce made a sign to him to be silent, and pressing his hand with energy, he forgot the former Baliol in the present, and for a moment bending his knee, kissed the hand he held, and rising — was out of the room in un instant. He flew across the outward hall, through the open gates: — and Wallace perceiving him rode out from under the shadow of the trees. The bright light of the moon shone on his sparkling crest: — that was sufficient for Bruce ; and Wallace falling back again into the shade, was joined the next moment by his eager friend. Who this friend was for whom her deliverer told Helen he waited, she did not ask ; for she dreaded while so near danger to breathe a word, but she guessed that it must be either Murray or Edwin. De Valance, impatient to shew her how desolate she was left, how dependant she was on him for love and happiness, had told her that not only her father was dead of his wounds, but that her uncles the Lords Bothwell and Ruthven had both been killed in the last battle. Hence, one of her two fatherless cousins, she now, with a saddened joy, prepared to see, — and every filial recollection pressing on her heart, her tears flowed silently, and in abund- THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 209 ance. As Bruce approached his black mantle so envelop- ed him that she could not distinguish his figure. Wal- lace stretched his hand out to him in silence ; he grasp- ed it with the warm but mute congratulation of friend- ship, and throwing himself on his steed while Grims- by mounted another, triumphantly exclaimed, " Now for Paris 1*' and without the aid of spurs to his eager horse, he gaily led the way in full speed.. Helen re- cognised none she knew in his voice, and drawing close to the white courser of Wallace, with something like disappointment mingling with her happier thoughts she kept pace with the fleetness ©f its steps. CHAP. XIX. Avoiding the beaten track of Rouen, Wallace, (to whom Grimsby was now a most valuable auxiliary, be- ing so well acquainted with every part of the country,) took a sequestered path by the banks of the Orne, and en- tered the extensive forest of Alencon just as the moon set — Having ridden far and without cessation, Grimsby proposed for the lady's sake that they should alight) and allow her to repose awhile under the trees. — He- len was indeed nearly exhausted ; though the idea that she was flying from a man she abhorred, and under the protection of the only man whom she could ever love, seemed to have absorbed her being into his, and by inspiring her with a strength which surprised even herself, had for a long time kept her insensible to any fatigue. While her friends pressed on with a speed which allowed of no more conversation than merely occasional inquiries of how she bore the journey, the swiftness of the motion, and the rapidity of the events which had brought her from the most frightful of situations into one of the dearest to her secret and hardly-breathed wishes, so bewildered her faculties that she almost feared she was only enjoying one of those dreams which since her captivity had often mock^ ed her with the image of Wallace and her release; and every moment she feared to awake and find herself s2 210 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. still the prisoner of De Valence. " I want no rest,'* replied she to the observation of Grimsby, *' I could take none till we are beyond the possibility of being overtaken by my enemy.*' — " You are as safe in this wood, lady," returned the soldier, " as you can be in any place betwixt Galliard and Paris: it is many leagues from the chateau, and lies in so remote a direction, that I am sure, were the earl to pursue us, he would never choose this path." " And did he even come up with us, dear Lady Helen," "said Wallace, " could you fear when with your father's friend ?" " It is for my father's friend I fear," gently answered she, " I can have no dreads for myself, while under such protec- tion." A very little more persuaded Helen, and Grimsby having spread his cloak on the grass, Wallace lifted her from the horse, as soon as she put her foot to the ground and attempted to stand, her head grew giddy, and she must have fallen, but for the supporting arm of her watchful friend. He carried her to the couch pre- pared by the good soldier and laid her on it. Grimsby had been more provident than they could have expec~ ted, for when, after saddling the second pair of horses, he returned into the hall for his cloak, he found the remnants of the seneschal's supper still on the table, and taking an undrawn flask of wine, he put it into his vest. This he now produced, and Wallace made He- len drink some of it. The cordial revived her; and leaning against his arm, she soon found the repose her wearied frame, in spite of the happy agitation of her spirits, demanded and induced. For fear of disturb- ing her, not a word was spoken.— -Wallace supported her head, and Bruce sat at her feet, while Grimsby re- mained with the horses as a kind of outpost. Sweet was her sleep; for the thoughts with which she sunk into slumber filled her dreams. Still she was ruling by the side of Wallace, and listening to his voice cheering her through the lengthening way ! But some wild animal, in its nightly prowl, starting upon the horses, frightened them so that they began to snort and plunge ; and though the no less terrified alarmer 3ed far away, it was with difficulty that the voice and THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 211 management of Grimsby could quiet them. The noise they made suddenly awoke Helen, and her scattered faculties not immediately collecting themselves, she felt an instant impression that all had indeed been but a dream, and starting in affright, she exclaimed — " Where am I ? Wallace where art thou?" " Here, my dear Lady Helen ;" cried he, pressing her to his breast with fraternal tenderness; " I am here ; you are safe with your friend and brother.*' Her heart beat violently with a terror which this assurance could hard- ly subdue. At last she spoke, and in an agitated voice said, " Forgive me, if rny senses are a little bewilder- ed ? — I have suffered so much — and this release seems so miraculous, that at moments I hardly believe it real. I wish day-light were come, that I might be convin- ced." When she had uttered these words, she sud- denly stopped and added, as she felt herself blush all over. — " But I am very silly to talk thus ; — I believe my late terrors have disordered my head.'' " What you feel, lady, is only natural;" observed Bruce, " I experienced the same when I first regained my li- berty and found myself on the road to join Sir William Wallace, Dear, indeed, is liberty ; but dearer is the friend whose virtues make our recovered freedom sure." " Who speaks to me ?" said Helen, in a low voice to Wallace, and raising her head from that bosom on which she felt she did but too much delight to lean, " It is one,'* answered Wallace in the same tone, " who is not to be publicly known until occasion demands it; one who, I trust in God, will one day seal the happi- ness of Scotland, — Robert Bruce." That name which, when in her idea it belonged to Wallace, used to raise such emotions in her breast, she now heard with an indifference that surprised her. But who could be more to Scotland than Wallace had been ? All that was in the power of patriot or of king to do for his country he had done ; and what then was Bruce in her estimation ? One who, basking in pleasures while his country suffered, allowed a brave subject to breast and to overthrow every danger before he would put himself forward ; and now he appeared, to assume a throne which, though his right by birth, be had most justly 212 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. forfeited by a neglect of the duties iriidispensable in the heir of so great and oppressed a kingdom. These would have been her thoughts of him : — But Wallace called this Bruce his friend : the few words which she had heard him speak, were generous and full of a grat- itude to her deliverer v;hich would have engaged her esteem, even had it not been accompanied by a tone of voice and manner of expression which bespoke an ardent, ingenuous, and amiable mind. The answer, however, that she made to the reply of Wallace v.as spontaneous and struck upon the heart of Bruce : " How long," said she, " have you promised Scotland that it should see that day." "Long, to my grief. Lady Helen," rejoined Bruce. " I would say to my shame, had I ever intentionally err- ed towards my country ; but ignorance of her stale and of the depth of Edward's treachery, was my crime. I only required to be shewn the right path, to pursue it ; and Sir William Wallace came to point the way. My s:oul,lady, is not unworthy the destiny to which he calls me." Had it been light, she vv^ould have seen the flush of conscious virtue that overspread his line counte- nance while he spoke : but the words were sufficient to impress her with that respect for his character he deserved, and which her answer shewed — " My ever- to-be-lamented father taught me to consider Bruce as the rightful king of Scotland ; and now that I see the day which he so often wished to hail, I cannot but re- gard it as the termination of Scotland's woes. Oh I had it been before, perhaps " here she paused, for tears stopped her utterance. " You think," rejoined Bruce, " that much bloodshed might have been spar- ed ! But, dear Lady Helen, poison not the comfort of your life by that belief No man exists who could have effected so much for Scotland in so short a time, and with so little loss, as our Wallace has done. Who, like him, makes mercy the companion of war; and compels even his enemies to emulate the clemency he shews ? Fewer have been slain on the Scottish side during the whole of his struggle with Edward, than were lost by Baliol on the fatal day of Dunbar. Then, no (juarter was given.; and too many of the wounded THE SCOTTISH CHfEFS. 213 were left to perish on the field. But with Wallace^ life was granted to all who asked ; and the wounded enemy as well as the friend was alike succoured by him. This conduct j)rovoked the jealousy of the Southron generals not to be surpassed in generosity; and thus comparatively few have been lost. But if in that number, some were our noblest chiefs, we must be resigned to yield to God what is his own ; nay, v/e must be grateful, daughter of the gallant Mar, for the Kianner in which they were taken. They fell in the arms of true glory, like parents defending their off- spring; while others, — my grandfather and father, per- ished with broken hearts, in unavailing lamentations that they could not share the fate of those who died for Scotland." '* But you, dear Bruce," returned Wallace, " will live for her : will teach those whose hearts have bled in her cause, to find a balm for every wound, in her prosperity." Helen smiled through her tears at these words.— They spoke the heavenly consolation which had de- scended on her ov/n mourning spirit. " If Scotland be to rest nnder the happy reign of Robert Bruce, then envy cannot again assaii Sir William Wallace, and my father has not shed his blood in vain. His beatified spirit, with those of my uncles Bothwell and Ruthven, will rejoice in such peace ; and I shall enjoy it to feli- city, in so sacred a participation." Wallace, surprised at her associating the name of Lord Ruthven with those who had fallen, interrupted her with the information that when he last quitted Scotland, he had left him in per- fect health. Helen, happy at these tidings, explained that De Valence had given her the opposite intelli- gence, with other dreadful accounts, in order, most probably, by impressing her vvith an idea that she was friendless, to precipitate her into the determination of becoming his v/ife. But she did not repeat to her brave auditors all the arguments he had used to shake her impregnable heart. Impregnable, because a prin- ciple kept guard there, which neither flattery nor am- bition could dispossess. He had told her that the ve- ry day in which she would give him her hand. King Edward would send him viceroy into Scotland, where 2U THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. she should reign with all the power and magnificence of a queen. He was handsome, accomplished, and adored her : but Helen could not love him whom she could not esteem ; for she knew he was libertine, base, ami cruel. — That he loved her, affected her not : she could only be sensible to an affection placed on wor- thy foundations ; and he who trampled on all virtues in his own actions, .could not desire them when seen in her ; he therefore must love her for the fairness of her form, " which to-day is, and to-morrow is thrown into the gravel" and to place any value on such af- fection would be to grasp the wind. Personal flatte- 3'i8s having made no impression on Helen, n.mbitioua projects were attempted wltii equal ill success. Had De Valence been lord of the east and western empire, could he have made her the envy and admiration of a congregated world, all would have been in vain : she had seen and known the virtues of Sir William Wal- lace, and from that hour, all that was excellent in man, all that was desirable on earth, seemed to her to be in him summed up. " On the barren heath," said sht? to herself, " in some desert island, with only thee and thy virtues, how happy could be Helen Mar I how great I — For, to share thy heart, thy noble, glorious heart, would be a bliss, a seal of honour from heaven, with which no terrestrial elevation could compare T* Then would she sigh; then would she thank God for so ennobling her as to make her capable of apprecia- ting and loving above all earthly things the match- less virtues of Sir William Wallace. " Yes," thought she, on the very evening of the night when he so unexpectedly appeared to release her, " even in lov-= ing thy perfections there is such enjoyment that I would rather be as I am, what others might call the hopeless Helen, than the loving and beloved pf any other man on cart . In thee, I love virtue ; and the imperishable sentiment will bless me in the world to come." With these thoughts she had fallen asleep: She dreamt that she called on Vv allace to save her, and on open- ing her eyes, she had found him indeed near her. Every word which this almost adored friend, now Raid to comfort her with regard to her own immediate THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 215 losses ; to assure her of the peace of Scotland, should heaven bless the return of Bruce ; took root m her soul, and sprang up into resignation and happiness- She listened to the plans of Wallace a-nd Bruce to effect their great enterprise : and several hours of the night, during which he rested, passed to her not only in re- pose, but in enjoyment. Wallace, though pleased with the sympathetic interest she took in even the mi- nutest details of their design, became fearful of over- j tasking her weakened frame : he whispered Bruce to gradually drop the conversation ; and, as it died I away, slumber again stole over her eye-lids. The dawn had spread far over the sky while she yet slept. Wallace sat contemplating her, and the now sleeping Bruce, who had also imperceptibly sunk to rest. Various and anxious were his meditations. He had hardly seen seven-and-twenty years, yet so had he been tried in the vicissitudes of life, that he felt as if he had lived a century; and instead of looking on the lovely Helen, as on one whose charms might claim a lover's wishes in his breast, he regarded her with sen- timents more like parental tenderness. That indeed seemed the affection v/hich now reigned in his bosom. He felt as a father towards Scotland : for every son and daughter of that harassed country, he was ready to lay down his life : Edwin, he cherished in his heart as he would have done the dearest of his own offspring: it was as a parent to whom a beloved and prodigal s|||l^ had returned, that he loeked on Bruce ; but Helen, '^- all Scotland's daughters, she was the most precious iti his eyes ; set love aside, and no object without the touch of that all-pervading passion, could he regard with more endearing tenderness than he did Helen Mar. The shades of night passed away under the bright up- rise of the king of day, and with them her slumbers. She stirred, she awoke. The lark was then soaring with shrill cadence over her head : the notes pierced the ear of Bruce, and he started on his feet. " You have allowed me to sleep, Wallace!" " And why not?" replied he. " Here it was safe enough for all to have slept. Had there been danger, I would have called you." " Whence; my good friend," cried Bruce with a smile- 216 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. " did you draw the ethereal essence that animates your frame ? . You toil for us, watch for us, and yet you ne- ver seem fatigued, never discomposed I — ^How is this? What does it mean, Wallace ?" " That the soul is im- mortal," answered he; "that it has a godlike power even while on earth to subdue the wants of this mortal frame. The circumstances in which heaven has cast me, have disciplined my body to obey my mind in all things ; and therefore, when the motives for exertion are strong within me, it is long, very long, before I ei- ther feel hunger, thirst, or drowsiness. Indeed while so occupied, I have often thought it possible for the activity of the soul so to wear the body, as some day to find it suddenly fall away from about her spiritual substance, and leave her unencumbered, without hav- ing felt the touch of death. And yet that Elisha-like change," continued Wallace, " would not be till hea- ven sees the appointed time. — Man does not live by bread alone, n'^'ither by sleep, nor ^ny species of re- freshment. — His spirit who created all things, can give us rest while we keep the strictest vigils : his power can sustain the wasting frame, even in a barren wilder- ness." " True," replied Helen, looking timidly up ; "but be- cause heaven is so gracious as sometimes to work mir- acles in our favour, surely we are not authorized to ne- glect the natural means of obtaining the same end?" "Certainly not," returned Wallace, " it is not for man to tempt God at any time. Sufficient for us, is to abide by his all wise dispensations. When we are in circum- stances to allow of our partaking the usual means of life, it is demanded of us to use them. But when we are brought into situations where watching, fasting, and uncommon toils are necessary ; then it is an es- sential part of our obedience, to perform our duties to the end, without any regard to the wants which may impede our way. It is in that hour, when the soul of man, resolved to obey, looks down on human nature and looks up to God, and he derives from him both the manna and the ever-living waters of heaven. By this, the uplifted hands of Moses prevailed over Amalek in THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 217 Rephidim ; by this, did the lengthened race of the sun light Joshua to a double victory in Gibeon." The morning vapours being dispersed from the op- posite plain, and Helen quite refreshed by her long rcn pose, Wallace seated her on her horse, and they re- commenced their journey. The helmets of both chiefs were now open. — Grimsby looked at one and the other ; the countenance of both assured him that he should find a protector in either. He drew towards Hel- en : she noticed his manner, and observing to Wallace that she believed the soldier wished to speak with her, she checked her horse. At this action, Grimsby pre> sumed to ride up, and bowing respectfully to her, said, that before he followed her to Paris it would be right for the Count de Valois to know whom he had taken into his train; " one, madam, who has been degraded by King Edward ; degraded," added he, " but not de- based ; that last disgrace depends on myself; and I should shrink from your protection, rather than court it, were I indeed vile." " I have too well proved your integrity, Grimsby," replied Helen, " to doubt it now ; but what has the Count de Valois to do M'ith j^our be- ing under my protection ? It is not to him we ^Oj but. to the French king." '' And is not that knight with the diadem," inquired Grimsby with surprise," the Count de Valois ? All the servants at Chateau Galiiard told me that he was." Helen, astonished at this, said thfe knight should answer for himself. At that moment Wallace was looking towards them. She quickened the step of her horse, and followed by Grimsby, came to his side. As soon as Wallace had heard from her what was the wish of the soldier, he called him to approach. " My friend," said he, " you have claims upon me which should insure you my protection, were I even insen- sible to the honourable principles you have just declared to Lady Helen. But I repeat I am already your friend. — You have only to speak, and all that is in my power to do to serve you, shall be done." "Then, sir," re- turned he, " as mine is rather a melancholy story, and parts of it have already drawn many tea^s from Lady Helen, if you will honour me with your attention apart VOL. II T i!l3 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. from her, I would relate how I fell into disgrace with my sovereign." Wallace fell a little back with Grimsby, and while Bruce and Helen rode briskly forward, he, at a slower pace, prepared to listen to the recapitulation of scenes in which he was only too deeply interested. Grimsby accordingly began by narrating the fatal events at El- ierslie which had compelled him to leave the army in , Scotland. He related, that after quitting the priory of J St. Fillan, he reached Guienne, and there served under the Earl of Lincoln until the marriage of Edward with King Philip's sister gave the English monarch quiet possession of that province. Grimsby then went with the rest of the troops to join their sovereign in Flan- ders. There he was recognised and brought to judg- ment, by one of Heselrigge's captains ; one who had been a particular favourite with that tyrant from their similarity of disposition, and to whom, after his return iVom Ellerslie, he had told the mutiny and desertion (as he called it) of Grimsby. But on the representa- tion of thcEarl of Lincoln, his punishment was mitigated from death to the infliction of a certain number of lash- es. This sentence, which the honest soldier regarded as worse than the loss of life, was executed. On strip- ping him at the halbert, the diamond clasp was found hanging round his neck. This was seized as the proof of a new crime : his general now gave him up ; and in contempt of all his asseverations of innocecne, so incon- sistent were his judges, that while they allowed his treason (for so they stigmatized his manly resentment of Heselrigge's cruelty,) to prejudice them against him in this his second charge, they would not believe what was so probable, that this very jewel was given to him by a friend of Sir William Wallace, as a reward ibr his behaviour on that occasion. They decided at once that he was a thorough villain, and unworthy to live. He appealed to Edward ; but he appealed in vain ; and on the following day he was adjudged to be broken on the wheel for the robbery of this jewel. Every iieart was calleus to his sufferings, but that of a poor \voman, (the wife of his gaoler,) who fancied him like a brother of hers that had been killed ten years before in i THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 21^ I Italy ; and a*, the dead of night she opened his prison- i door and set him free. He fled into Normandy ; and I Avithout a home, oiuhwved, branded as a traitor and a i thief, he was wandering half desperate on the shore one stormy night, almost tempted by despair to plunge Into the raging Hood, when the cry of distress attracted his attention. A ship was stranded. He ran to the neigh- bouring fishermen, put off in the first boat himsclt;, and with indefatigable labour, by rovving backwards and for- wards, saved the whole crew. This was Dc Valence in his way to Guienne. Chateau Galliardwas the near- est residence fit to receive the earl and his train. Thi- ther they went, taking Grimsby along with them : and from the servants he learnt that the lady whom he sav/ always covered with a veil, and often very hardly used, was their lord's wife, and a lunatic. He remained i:i the chateau, because iie had no where else to go, and soon I found, by accidental speeches from the lady's attend- j ants, that she was not married to the earl, and was not only perfectly sane but often most criielly treated. Her name he had never heard breathed till on the last even- ing, when carrying some wine into the banqueting- room, De Valerxe mentioned it to the other stranger knight. He then retired to the hall, full of horror, re- solving to essay her rescue himself: but the unex- pected sight of the two knights determined him to re- veal the case to them. "This," added Grimsby, " i.i my story ; and whoever you arc, noble lord, if you think me not unworthy your protection, yield it to me, and you shall find me faithful unto death.'' '* I owe you that and more," replied tliC cliief, " I am that Wallace on whose accoimt you fled your coun- try ; — and, if you be willing to share the fortune'^ oi one vy'ho may live and die in camps, I pledge you that my best destiny shall be yours." Could Grimsby in I his joyful surprise have thrown himself at the loet of i Wallace, he v*'ould have done it ; but taking hold of the drapery of his scarf he pressed it enthusiastically to y his lips and exclaimed : " Bravest of the brave, this is r beyond my prayers, to meet you here, whom I believed a the triumphant lord of Scotland 1—1 fell innocently in- j I to disgrace ; ah ! how am I now exalted unto hononr I— > 220 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. | My country would have deprived me o: life ; I am y therefore dead to it, and live only to gratitude and you 1' ^'Then," replied Wallace, "as the first proof of the confidence I repose iii you, know, that the young chie who is riding forward with Lady Helen, is Roberi^ Bruce, the Prince of Scotlc^nd. Our next enterprise 2s to place him upon the throne of his ancestors Meanwhile, till we license you to do othervvise, keep our proper names a secret, and call us by those we may hereafter think fit to assume." Grimsby, once more reinstated in the station l-e de- served, that of trust and respect, no longer hung his head in abject despondency; but looking erect, as one boiM again from disgrace, he became the active, cheer- ful, and faithful servant of Wallace. Helen, during Wallace's conversation with the sol- dier, listened with delight to the encon iums which 3rucc passed upon his friend and champion. As his | eloquent tongue described the merits of Wallace, and expressedan ardentgratitude forhis having so gloriously supplied his place to Scotland; Helen turned her e^res upon the prince : before, she had scarcely remarked ihat he was more than young and handsome ; but now, >vhilc she contemplated the noble confidence which breathed in every feature, she said to herself, " this man is worthy to be the friend of Wallace I His soul is a mirror that will reflect all the brightness of Wallace's: aye, like as with the sun's rays, to light up with fire all on whom it turns." Bruce remarked the unusual animation of her eyes as she looked on him. " You feel all I say of Wal- lace," said he. But it was not a charge at which she need bluiih. It was addressed to that perception of exalted worth which regards neither sex nor age. Helen did not misapprehend him. — The amiable frank- ness of his manner seemed to open to him her heart. W^allace she adored almost as a god ; Bruce she could love as a brother.* It requires not time nor proof, to make virtuous hearts coalesce: there is a language •vvithout sounds, a recognition independent of the visu- al organ, which acknowledges the kindred of congenial ■H.uls almost in the moment they meet, " The virtu- THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS, 221 ' ous mind knoweth its brother in the clark!"—This witr said by a hero whose soul sympathized in every noble fjurpose with that of Wallace ; and Helen, impcUcd by the same principle, blushing with an emotion untainted with any sensation of shame, replied, " I am grateful to heaven which has allowed me to witness the goodness, to share the esteem of such a man-^f a man he may I be called." " He is one of the few. Lady Helen," repli- j ed Bruce, '' who is worthy of so august a title ; and he j brightly shews the image in which he was made ; so I humble, so dignified 1 so great, so lowly ! so super- j eminent in all accomplishments of mind and body 4 I wise, brave, and invincible, and yet forbearing, gentle, j and unassuming: formed to be beloved, yet v/ithout a touch of vanity ; loving all who approach him, without j the least alloy of passion. — Ah ! Lady Helen, he is ti model after which I will fashion my life ; for he has written the character of the son of God in his heart; and it shall be my study to transcribe the blessed copy into mine 1" The tear of rapture glittered in the eye and on the smile of Helen. To answer Bruce she found was impossible : but that her smile and look, were fully appreciated by him, his own told her; and stretching out his hand to her, as she put hers into his, he said, — " We are united in his heart, my sv/eet friend 1" — At this moment Wallace joined them. He saw the action and the animation of each countenance, and looked at Bruce with a glance of inquiry: but Bruce perceived nothing of a lover's jealousy in the look : it carried the wish of a friend to share what had impressed them with such happy traits. *' We have been talking of you ;" returned the prince, " and if to be beloved is a source of joy, you must be pe- culiarly blest. The affections of Lady Helen and my- self have met in your breast? and made your heart the altar on which we have ])ledged our fraternal love.'' Wallace regarded each with a look of the most pene- trating tenderness. " It is my joy to love you both as a brother; but Lady Helen must consider me as even more than that to her. I am her father's representative ; I am the voice of grateful Scotland, thanking her for the pre- servation her generous exertions yielded!. — And to t2 'S22 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. you, ray prince, I am your friend, your subject, all that is devotee] and true." Thus, cnjoyin^^ the dear communion of hearts, the interchange of mind, and mingling soul with soul, did tiiese three friends journey towards the gates of Paris. Every day seemed an age of blessedness to Helen ; so gratefully did she enjoy each passing mo- ment of a happiness that seemed to speak of paradise. Nature never before appeared so beautiful in her eyes : The sky was more serene, the birds sung with sweeter notes, the landscape shone in brighter charms; the fragrance of the flowers bathed her senses in softest balm, and the very air as it breathed around her, seemed fraught with life and joy. But Wallace animated the scene ! and while she fancied that she inhaled his breath in every respiration, she moved as if on en- chanted ground. O ! she could have lingered there for ever ! and hardly did she know what it was to draw any but sighs of bliss till she saw the towers of Paris embattling the horizon. They reminded her that she was now going to be occasionally divided from him ; that when entered within those walls, it would no longer be deemed decorous for her to pass days and nights in listening to his voice, in losing all of woman's love in the beatified affection of an angel. This passion of the soul, (if such it may be called) which has its rise in virtue, and its aim the same, would be most unjustly degraded were it classed with what the herd generally entitle love. The love which men stig- matize, deride, and yet encourage, is a fancy, an infa- tuation awakened by personal attractions, by — the lover knows not what ; sometimes, by gratified vanity ; some- times by idleness ; and often by the most debasing propensities of human nature. With these causes, an idea may mingle that the person beloved is possessed of those amiable endowments necessary to domestic happiness ; but they are commonly secondary objects. Men are often hurried to the most excessive extrava- gancies of passion for a woman whom they know has no one attractive quality but that of beauty, or, per- haps, the art of flatf^.ring their vanity. And again, we ^:ce a man plotting the ruin of all that is admirable in THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 223v %^man, and even while he does it, telling the unhappy object that it is the effect of his love. But, fools are they who say so ; and greater fools are they who be- lieve I — Love, true heaven-born love, that pure affection which unites congenial spirits here, and with which the Creator will hereafter connect in one blest fraternity the whole kindred of mankind, has but one cause, The universal fairness of its object ! — Tnat bright perfec- tion which speaks of unchangeableness and immorta- lity ; a something so excellent, that the simple wish to partake its essence in the union of affection, to facilitate and to share its attainment of true and lasting happiness, invigorates our virtue, and inspires our souls. These are the aims and joys of real love. It has nothing sel- fish: in every desire it soars above this earth; and an- ticipates, as the ultimatum of its joy, the moment when it shall meet its partner before the throne of God. Such was the sentiment of Helen towards Wallace. So unlike what she had seen in others, of the universal passion, that she would hardly have acknowledged to herself that what she felt was love, had not the antici- pation of even an hour's separation from him whispered the secret to her heart. CHAP. XX. W HEN they were arrived at a short distance from Paris, Wallace wrote a few lines to King Philip, inform- ing him who were the companions of his journey, and that he should rest in the abbey of St. Denis until he should receive his majesty's greetings to Bruce. Grimsby was the bearer of this letter. He soon re- turned with an escort of honour headed by Prince Louis, who was eager to welcome his deliverer. At sight of Wallace he flew into his arms, and after em- bracing him again and again with all the unchecked ar- dour of youthful fondness, he presented to him a packet from the king. It expressed the satisfaction of Philip at the near prospect he had of seeing the man whom he had so 224 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. long admired, and whose valour had wrought him such a service as the preservation of his son. — He then ad- ded, that he had other matters to thank him for when they should meet, and subjects to discuss which would be much elucidated by the presence of Bruce. '' Ac- cording to your request," continued he, " the name of neither shall be made public at my court : my own fa- mily only, know who are to be my illustrious guests ; and the queen is as ready to bid them welcome, as to protect the Lady Helen Mar, to whom v/e offer our congratulations on her escape." A superb ear, in which sat two ladies bearing rich apparel for Helen, drew near the abbey porch where Wallace stood. As soon as their errand was made Laown to him, he communicated it to Helen. Her de- licacy would have wished to lay aside her page's appa- rel, before she was presented to the queen, but she had been so happy while she wore it ; — -" Days have past with me in these garments," said she to herself, " which may never happen again !" The ladies were conducted to Helen ; they delivered a gracious message from their royal mistress, and opened the caskets. Helen sighed : she could urge nothing in opposition to their embassy, and reluctantly she assented to the change they were to make in her appearance. She stood mute while they disarrayed her of her humble guise, and clothed her in the robes of France. While they dressed her, in the adulatory strains of die court, they broke out in ejaculatory encomiums on the graces of her person ; but to all this she turned an inattentive ear ; her mind was absorbed in what she had enjoyed, in the splendid penance she was to undergo. One of the women was throwing the page's clothes carelessly into a bag, when Helen perceiving her, said, " Take care of that suit, it is more precious to me than gold or jewels I" "Indeed !" answered the attendant, more carefully folding it, "it does not seem of very rich silk." ^' Probably not," returned Helen, " but it is valuable to me, and wherever I lodge, 1 will thank you to put it into my apartment." — A mirror was now pre- sented, that she might see herself. She started at the load of pearls with which they had adorned her, ami while THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 225 a tear stood in either eye, she mildly said, "I am a mourner, these ornaments must not be worn by me. Take them off." The ladies obeyed. And with thoughts divided between her father and her father's friend, she was conducted towards the car. Wallace approached her, and Bruce flew forward with his usual liaste, to assist her : — but it was no longer the beautiful little page that met his view, the confidential and frank r;lance of a youthful brother ! — It was a lovely woman, arrayed in all the charms of female apparel, and tremb- ling and blushing as she again appeared as a woman, before the eyes of the man she loved. Wallace bowed i\s he touched her hand, for there was something in her air which seemed to say, "I am not what I was a few minutes ngo." — It was the aspect of a strange austerity, the de- corum of rank and situation ; — not of the heart, — that had never been absent from the conduct of Helen : had she been in the wilds of Africa with no other compa- nion than Wallace, still would those chaste reserves which lived in her soul, been there the guai'dians of her actions; for modesty was as much the attribute of her person, as magnanimity was the character of her souL Her particularly distant air at this time, was the ef- fect of her reflections while in the abbey. She saw that the frank intercourse between her and her friend was to be interrupted by the forms of a court, and her man- ner insensibly assumed the demeanor she was so soon to wear. Bruce looked at her with delighted wonder. He had before admired her as beautiful ; he now gazed on her as transcendently so. — He checked himself in his swift step, he paused to look on her and WiUlace, and contemplated them with sentiments of such unmingied admiration, that this exclamation unconsciously es- caped him — " How lovely \" — He could not but M'ish to see two such perfectly amiable and perfectly beautiful beings united as closely by the bonds of the world, as he believed they were in heart, and he longed for the hour when he might endow them with those proofs of his fraternal leve, which should class them with the first of Scottish princes. " But how," thought he, " can I reward thee, Wallace, for what thou hast done for me and mine ? Thy services are beyond all price ; thy .26 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. soul is above even empires. Then how can I shew thee all that is in my heart for thee ?" While he thus apos- trophized his friend, Wallibce and Helen advanced to- wards him. Bruce held out his hand to her with a cor- dial smile, " Lady Helen, we are still to be the same ! Robes of no kind arc ever to separate the affections borne in our pilgrimage i" She put her hand into his vv'ith a glow of delight : " While Sir William Wallace allows me to call him brother," answered she, " that will ever be a sanction to our friendship: but courts are formal places, and I now go to one." " And I will soon remove you to another," replied he, "where- " he hesitated, looked at Wallace, and then resumed, " where every wisii of my sister Helen's heart shall be gratified, or I be no king." Helen blushed deeply, and hastened towards the car. Wallace placed her on the seat, and Piince Louis preceding the carriage, the cavalcade moved. As Bruce vaulted into his saddle, he said something to hit friend declarative of his admiratioji ot the perfect- ly feminine beauty of Helen. " But her soul is fairer !'* returned Wallace. The prince of Scotland, with a gay but tender smile softly whispered, "Fair, doubly fair to you !" Wallace drew a deep sigh : " I never knew but one woman who resembled her in this respect, and she did indeed excel all of created mould. From infancy to manhood I read every thought of her angelic heart; I became the purer by the study, and I loved my model with an idolatrous adoration. There was my error, Bruce! But those sympathies, those hours are past. My heart will never throb as it has throbbed, never re- joice as it has rejoiced, for she who lived but for* me, who doubled all my joys, is gone ! — And, though blest "with friendship, there are times when I feel that I am solitary 1" Bruce looked at him with surprise and interest. " Solitary ! Wallace ! can you ever be solita- ry, and near Helen Mar?" "Perhaps more so then, than at any other time, for her beauties, her excellen- cies, remind mc of what were once mine and recall ev- ery regret. O! Bruce! thou canst not comprehend my loss ! To mingle thought with thought, and soul with soul, for years j and then, after blending our very be- THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 227 ings, and feeling? as if indeed made one, — to be separa- ted.^ and by a stroke of violence ! This was a trial of the spirit which, but for heaven's mercy, would have crushed me. I live, bu«t still my heart will mourn ; mourn her I have lost, and mourn that my rebellious nature will not be more resigned to the judgments of its God." " And is love so constant ?" exclaimed Bruce, " Is it to consume your youth, Wallace ? Is it to wed such a heart as yours to the tomb ? — Ah ! am I not to hope that the throne of my children may be upheld by a race of thine?" Wallace shook his head, but with a placid firmness replied, " Your throne will be upheld by hea- ven ; and if your children follow your example, the isame Almighty arm will be with them ; but should they pervert themselves, a host of mortal supports would not be sufficient to stay their downfal." In discourse like this, the youthful prince of Scot- land caught a clearer view of the inmost thoughts of his friend, than he had been able to discern before ; for war, or Bruce*sown interests having particularly enga- ged them in all their former conversations, Wallace had never been induced to glance at the private circum- stances of his history. While Bruce sighed, in tender pity for the captivated heart of Helen, he the more deeply revered, more intensely loved, his suffering and ilieroic friend. A few hours brought the royal escort to the gates of the Louvre ; and through a train of nobles, who stood on the marbled pavement, Lady Helen, followed by the Scottish chiefs, was led into the audience-chamber by Prince Louis. Philip, who, as he had much to say to Wallace, intended to see him first alone, on hearing of his approach, retired to his closet. The queen and the Count D'Evi'eux, received Bruce and Helen, while De Valois conducted Wallace to the king. At sight of the armjur which he had sent to the pre- server of his son, Philip instantly recognised the Scot- tish hero, and rising from his seat, hastened towards him, and clasped him in his arms. " Wonder not, au- gust chief," exclaimed he, " at the weakness exhibited in these eves! It is the tribute of nature to a virtue 223 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. f which loads even kings with benefits. You have saved my son's life, you have preserved from taint the honour of my sister !" — Philip then proceeded to inform his au- ditor, that he had heard from a confessor of Queen Mar- garet's just arrived from England, all that had lately happened at Edward's court, and of Wallace's letter to clear the innocence of that injured princess. " She is perfectly reinstated in the king's confidence," added Philip, " but I can never pardon the infamy with which he would have overwhelmed her; nay, it has already dishonoured her ; for the blasting effects of slander no time nor labour can erase. I yield to the prayers of my too gentle sister, not to openly resent this wrong, but in secret I will make him feel a brother's indigna- tion. I do not declare war against him; but ask what you will, bravest of men, and were it to place the crown of Scotland on your head, demand it of me, and by my concealed agency, it shall be effected." The reply of Wallace was simple. He claimed no merit in the jus- tice he had done the Queen of England, neither in his rescue of Prince Louis, but as a proof of King Philip's friendship, he gladly embraced his offered services with regard to Scotland. — " Not,'' added he, " to send troops into that country against England. Scotland is now free of its Southron invaders, and all I require is, that you will use your royal influence with Edward to allow it to remain so. Pledge your faith, most gracious mon- arch, with my master the royally descended Bruce, who ; is now in your palace. He will soon assume the crown j that is his right ; and with such an ally as France to hold the ambition of Edward in check, we may certainly hope that the bloody feuds between Scotland and England may at last be laid at rest.'' Wallace explained to Philip the dispositions of the Scots, the nature of Bruce's claims, and the transcen- dent virtues of his youthful character. The monarch took fire at the speaker's enthusiasm, and giving him his htind, exclaimed, " Wallace, I know not what man- ner of man you are ! You seem born to dictate to kings, while yourself puts aside, as things of no moment, the crowns offered to you. — You are young, and marvelling, T would say vrithout ambition, did I not know that your THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 229 deeds and your virtues have set you above all earthly titles. But to convince me thd«t you do not disdain the gratitude we pay, at least accept a name in my country I and know that the armour you wear, the coronet around your helmet, invested you with the rank of a prince of France, ana the title of Count of Gascony-''^^) To have refused this mark of the monarch's esteen., would have been an act of churlish pride foreign from the charac- ter of Wallace. He graciously accepted the offered tlistinction, and bowing his head, allowed the king to throw the brilliant collar of Gascony over his neck. This act was performed by Philip with all the emo- tions of disinterested esteem. But when he had pro- posed it to his brothers as the only way he could devise of rewarding Wallace for the preservation of his son and the honour of their sister, he was obliged to urge in support of his wish, the desire he had to take the first opportunity of being revenged on Edward, by the re-seizure of Guienne. To have Sir William Wallace Lord of Gascony would then be of the greatest advan- tage, as no doubt could be entertained of his arms soon restoring the sister province to the French monarchy. In such a case Philip promised to bestow Guienne on his brother D'Evereux. To attach his new count to France was now all-the wish of Philip ; and he closed the conference with every expression of friendship which man could deliver to man. Wallace lost not the opportunity of pleading for the abdicated King of Scots ; and Philip, eager, as well to evince his r<*sentment to Edward, as to oblige Wallace, promised to send immediate orders to Nor- mandy, that De Valence should leave Chateau Galliard, and Baliol be attended with all his former state. The king then led his guest into the audience- chamber, where they found her majesty seated between Bruce and Helen. At sight of the Scottish chief she rose. Philip led him up to her ; and Wallace, bend- ing his knee, put the fair hand she extended to his lips. — " Welcome,*' said she, " bravest of knights ! receive a mother, a sister's thanks." Tears of grati- tude stood in her eyes. She clasped the hand of her son and his together, and added, " Louis, wherever VOL. II. u 230 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. our Count of Gascony advises you to pledge this hand^ give it.*' " Tlien it will follow minel" cried the king, putting his into that of Bruce ; " You are Wallace's ac- knowledged sovereign, young prince, and you shall ever find brothers in nie and my son ! — Sweet lady," added he, turning to Helen, " thanks to your charms for having drawn this friend of all mankind to bless our shores ! — When you take him hence (coniinued he, in a lowered tone that none but herself heard) it must be to reward him with beauties which might involve ano- ther Troy in flames !" Helen blushed deeply. Her heart glowed amidst its agitated t'-robbings ; for during this long, circuitous journey, his endearing care had almost unconsciously awakened a hope v/hich now, in a still small voice, whispered an echo to the wish of Philip. The court only knew Wallace as Count of Gascony ; and Bruce assumed the name of the young De Lon- gueville, whom prince Louis had in fact allowed to leave him on the road to Paris, and to go to Chartres, there to pass a year of mourning within its penitential mo- nastery. Only two persons ever came to the Louvre who might recognise Bruce to be other than he seemed ; and they were John Cummin, the elder twin brother of the present Regent of Scotland, and James Lord Douglas. The former remained in France out of dislike to his brother's proceedings; and as Bruce knew him in Guienne, and believed him to be a blunt well-meaning young man, he saw no danger in trusting him. The brave son of William Douglas was altoge- ther of a nobler mettle ; and both Wallace and his prince rejoiced at the prospect of receiving him to their friendship. ^^^'^ Philip opened the affair to the two lords, and having declared his designs in favour of Bruce, conducted them into tl^e audience-room, and pointing to him where he stood, said, " There is the King of Scotland, whose cause I mean to support to my last gasp 1" Douglas and Cummin would have bent their knees to their young monarch, but Bruce hastily caught their hands, and prevented the action ; " My friends," said he, " regard me as your fellow -soldier only, tfll you sec ,1 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 231 me on the throne of my fathers. Till then, that is our prince," said he, looking on Wallace, " he is my lead- er, my counsellor, my example ! And, if you love me, he must be yours." Douglas and Cummin turned to- wards Wallace at these words. Royalty did indeed sit on his brow, but with a tempered majesty which spoke only in love and honour. From the resplendent coun- tenance of Bruce it smiled and threatened ; for the blaze of his impassioned nature was not yet subdued. The queen looked from the one to the other. The divinely composed air of Wallace seemed to her like the celestial port of some heaven-descended being, lent awhile to earth to guide the steps of the prince of Scotland. She had read of the deity of wisdom assum- ing the form of Mentor to protect the son of Ulysses ; and had it not been for the youth of the Scottish chief, she would have said, here is the realization of the tale. Helen had eyes for none but Wallace. Nobles, princes, kings, were all involved in one uninteresting mass to her when he was present. Yet she smiled on Douglas, when she heard him express his gratitude to the champion of Scotland for the services he had done a country for which his own father had died. Cum- min, when he paid his respects to Wallace, told him that he did it with double pleasure, as he had two un- questionable evidences of his unequalled merit ; the confidence of his father the Lord Badenoch, and the hatred of his brother, the present usurper of that title. The king soon after led his guests to the council- room, vv'here a siecret council was to be held to settle the future bonds between the two kingdoms ; and Helen, looking long after the departing figure of Wal- lace, v/ith a pensive step followed the queen to her apartment. CHAP. XXI. X HESE preliminaries for a lasting friendship being arranged and sworn to by Philip, Wallace dispatched a messenger to Scotland to Lord Ruthven at Hunting- ^m 262 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. » i tower, informing him of all that had happened to him since their separation, and of his present designs with regard to Scotland. He made particular inquiries respecting the state of the public mind, and declared his intentions not to introduce Bruce amongst the cabals of his chieftains until he knew exactly how they w-ere all disposed. Some weeks passed away before a reply to this letter arrived. During this time the health of Helen, which had been much impaired by the suffer- ings inflicted on her by De Valence, gradually recover- ed ; and her beauty became as much the admiration of the French nobles as her meek dignity was of their respect. A new scene of royalty presented itself in this gay court to Wallace, for all was pageant and chivalric gallantry; but it had no other effect on him than that of exciting those benevolent affections which rejoiced in the innocent gayety of his fellow beings. His pensiveness was not that of a cynic. Though hilarity never awakened his mind to buoyant mirth, yet he loved to see it in others, and gently smiled when others laughed. With a natural superiority, which looked over these court pastimes, to objects of greater moment, Bruce merely endured them ; but it was with an urbanity con- genial with his friend's ; and while the princes of France were treading the giddy mazes of the dance, or tilting at each other in the mimic war of the tournament, the Prince of Scotland, who excelled in all the-se exercises, left the field of gallantry indisputed ; and moved in this splendid scene an uninterested spectator, talking w ith Wallace or with Helen on events whicli yet lay in fate, and whose theatre would be the field of Scotland. So accustomed had the friends now been to share their thoughts with Lady Helen, that they consulted her in all their plans, and hardly considered them as fixed till she had confirmed them by her approval. Her soul was inspired v, ith the same zeal for Scotland which ani- mated their own breasts : like Bruce's, it w-as ardent ; but like Wallace's, it was tempered with a moderation which gave her foresight, and freed her opinion from the hazard of rashness. What he possessed by the suggestions of genius, or had acquired by experience. THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 233 she learnt from love. It taught her to be careful for the safety of Wallace : and while he saw that his life mn^-t often be put in peril for Scotland, her watchful spirit, with an eagle's ken perceived where his exposure was not I'kely to produce advantage. The winds of this season of the year being violent and often adverse, Wallace's messenger did not arrive at his destined port in Scotland, till the middle of No- vember; and the January of 1299 had commenced be- fore his returning barque entered the mouth of the Seine. Wallace was alone when Grimsby opening the door, announced Sir Edwin Ruthven. In a moment the friends were locked in each others arms. Edwin, strain- ing Wallace to his heart, reproached him in affection- ate terms for having left him behind ; but while he spoke, joy shone through the tears v.'hich hung on his eye-lids, and with the smiles of fraternul love, again, and again he kissed his friend's hand and pressed it to his bosom. Wallace ansv/ered his glad emotions with similar demonstrations of affection ; and when the agitations of their meeting were subdued, he learned from Edwin that he had left the messenger at some dis- tance on the road, so impatient was he again to embrace his friend, and to congratulate his dear cousin on her escape. Edwin answered the anxious inquiries of Wallace respecting his country, by informing him that Badenoch having arrogated to himself the supreme power iu Scotland, had determined to take every advantage c^ the last victory gained over King Edward ; and in this resolution he was supported by the resentments of Lords Athol, Buchan, and Soulis, who were returned, full of indignation, from the court of Durham. Ed- ward removed to London : and Badenoch, hearing that he was preparing other armies for the subjugation of Scotland, sent embassadors to the Vatican to solicit the Pope's interference. Boniface, flattered by this appeal, wrote a letter to Edward, exhorting him to refrain from further oppressing a country over which he had no lawful power. Edward's answer was full of artifice and falsehood ; maintainmg his pretensions to Scotland by u 2 234 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. the abandohinent of every good principle ; and declar- ing his determination to consolidate Great Britain into one kingdom, or to make the northern part, one uni- versal grave.^0 Wallace sighed as he listened. " Ah ! my dear Edwin,'* said he, "how just is the observation that the almost total neglect of truth and justice which the generality of sovereign states discover in their transactions with each other, is an evil as inveterate as it is dishonourable and ruinous ! It is one great source of the misery of the human race ; a misery in which millions are involved without any compensation ; for it seldom happens that this dishonesty contributes ulti- mately even to the interests of the princes who thus basely sacrifice their integrity to their ambition. But proceed, my friend." The consequences of this correspondence, Edwin said, was a renewal of hostilities against Scotland. Badcnoch took Sir Simon Eraser as his colleague in military duty, and a stout resistance was for some time made on the borders ; but Berwick was at last taken by Lord Percy, and the brave Lord Dundaff killed defend- ing the citadel. Many other places fell ; and battles were fought in which the English were every where victorious : "For," added Edwin, " none of your gene- rals would draw a sv/ord under the command of Ba- denoch; and alarmed at the consequence, the Bishop of Dunkeld is gone to Rome to entreat the Pope to or- der your return. The Southrons are advancing into Scotland in every direction. They have landed again on the eastern coast; they have possessed themselves of all the border counties ; and without your heaven- anointed arm to avert the blow, our country must be irretrievably lost." Edwin had brought letters from Ruthven and the young Earl of Bothwell, which more particularly nar- rated these disastrous events, and enforced every argu- ment to persuade Wallace to return. They gave it as their opinion, that he should revisit Scotland under an assumed name. Did he come openly, the jealousy of the Scottish lords would be re-awakened, and perhaps they might put the finishing stroke to their country, h|c taking him off by assassination or poison. Ruthyen THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 235 ^and Bothwell therefore entreated that, as it was his wisdom, as well as his valour, his country required, he would hasten to Scotland, and condescend to serve hev unrecognised, till Bruce should be established on the throne. While Edwin was conducted to the apartments of Lady Helen, Wallace took these letters to his prince. On Bruce being informed of the circumstances in which his country lay, and of the wishes of its most virtuous chiefs for his accession to the crown, he as- sented to the prudence of their advice with regard to Wallace. " But," added he, " our fortunes must in every respect, as far as I can mould them, be the same. While you are to serve Scotland under a cloud, so will 1. At the moment Bruce is proclaimed King of Scotland, Wallace shall be declared its bravest friend. We will go together : as brothers, if you will 1'* continued he, "as I am already considered by the French nobility as Thomas de Longueville, you may personate his elder brother the Red Reaver : — . Scotland does not yet know that he v/as slain. Were you to wear the title you bear here, a quarrel might ensue between Philip and Edward, which I perceive the former is not willing should occur openly, Ed- ward would deem it a brea.ch of their amity, did he permit a French prince to appear in arms against him in Scotland. But the Reaver being considered in Eng- land as an outlaw, no surprise can be excited that he and his brother should fight against Philip's ally. We will then assume their characters ; and I shall have the satisfaction of serving for Scotland before I claim her as my own. When we again drive Edward over the borders, on that day we will throw off our visors, and Sir William Wallace shall place the crown on my head." Wallace could not but approve the dignity of mind which these sentiments displayed. In the same situa- ,tion,they would have been his own ; and he sought not from any motive of policy, to dissuade Bruce from a de- licacy of conduct which drew him closer to his heart. Sympathy of tastes is a pleasing attraction : but conge- niality of principles is the cement of souls. This Wal- 236 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 4 lace felt in his new-born friendship with Bruce ; and' though his regard for him had none of that fosterujg tenderness with which he loved lo contemplate the blooming virtues of the youthful Edwin, yet it breathed every endearment arising from a perfect equality in heart and mind. It v/as the true fraternal tie ; and while he talked with him on the fulfilment of their enterprise, he inwardly thanked heaven for blessing him so abun- dantly. He had found a son in Edwin ; and a brother, a tender sister, in the noble Bruce, and lovely Helen. Bruce received Edwin with a welcome which con- vinced the before anxious youth that he met with a friend, rather thana rival, in the heart of Wallace. And every preliminary being settled by the three friends, respecting their immediate return to Scotland, they re- p^red to Philip, to inform him of Lord Ruthven's dis- p;atches and their consequent resolutions. The king liked all they said, excepting their request to be permitted to take an early leave of his court. He urged them to remain a few days, to await the return of a second embassador he had sent to England Immedi- ately on Wallace's arrival, Philip had dispatched a re- quest to the English king, that he would grant the Scots the peace which was their right. Not receiving any answer, he had sent another messenger with a more threatening message. The persevered hostilities of Edward against Scotland, explained the delay. But the king yet hoped for aCavourable reply, and made such entreaties to Bruce and his friend to remain in Paris till it should arrive, that they at last granted a reluctant consent. At the end of a week the embassador returned with a conciliatory letter to Philip ; but affirming Edward's right to Scotland, and his determination to have the whole realm again under his sceptre before the termi- nation of the month. Wallace and his royal friend now saw no reason for lingering ii> France. And having visited De Longue- ville at Chartres, they apprized him of their inten- tion still further to borrow his name. " We will not disgrace it," cried Bruce, <' I promise to return it to you, a theme for your country's minstrels 1" When THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 237 the friends rose to depart, the brave and youthful peni- tent g-raspcd tlieir hands — " You go, brave Scots, to cover with glory in the field of honour, a name whicJi my unhappy brother Guy, dyed deep in his country's blood I The tears I weep before this cross for his and my transgression, have obtained me mercy : and your design is an earnest to me from him v/ho hung on tiiis tree, that my brother also is forgiven." At an early hour next day, Wallace and Bruce took leave of the French king. The queen kissed Helen affectionately, and whispered, while she tied a jewelled collar round her neck, that when she returned she hoped to add to it the coronet of Gascony. Helen's only re- ply was a gentle sigh, and her eye turned unconscious- ly on Wallace. He was clad in a plain suit of black armour with the red plume in his helmet, the ensign of the Reaver, whose name he had assumed. All of his former habit that he now wore about him, was the sword which he had taken from Edward. Prince Louis, at the moment Helen looked towards Wallace, was plac- ing a cross-hilted dagger in his girdle. " My deliver- er,'* said he, " wear this for the sake of the descendant ©f St. Louis. It accompanied that holy king through all his wars in Palestine. It twice saved him from the assassin's steel ; and I pray heaven it may prove as faithful a guard to you !" Soon after this, Douglas and Cummin entered to pay their parting respects to the'king ; and that over, Wal- lace taking Helen by the hand, led her forth, followed by Bruce and his friends, to her horse. At Dieppe they embarked for the Frith of Tay ; and a favourable gale driving them through the straits of Calais, tiiey launch- ed out in the wide ocean. CHAP. XXII. .1 HE eighth morning from the day in which the Red Rpavr,r's ship was re-launched from the harbour of Dieppe, Wallace, its present commander, and now the repj^esentative of that once formidable pirate, entered 238 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. between the castled shores of the Frith of Tay, and cast anchor under the towers of Dundee. As he bore the white flag; of peace, no opposition was made to his landing ; and the sight of Sir Edwin Ruthven, who was the first to leap on the beach, satisfied the inhabitants that all who came with him must be friends to Scotland. When Bruce first set foot upon the land, he turned to Wallace, and said with exultation, though in a low voice, '' Scotland now receives her king I This earth shall co- ver me, or support my throne i" " It shall support your throne, and bless it too,'* replied Wallace, " you are come in the power of justice, and that is the power of God. I know Him in whom I bid you confide, for He has been my shield and sword, and never yet have I turned my back upon my enemies. Trust, my dear prince, where I have trusted ; and while virtue is your incense, you need not doubt the issue of your prayers.*' Had Wallace seen the face of Bruce at that moment, but the visor concealed it, he would have beheld an an- swer in his eloquent eyes which required not words to explain. He grasped the hand of Wallace with fer- vour, and briefly replied — " Your God shall be my God, your worship my worship, and I trust heaven for- all the rest." The chiefs did not stay longer at Dundee than was requisite to furnish them with horses to convey them to Perth, where Ruthfven still bore sway. When they arrived, he was at Hunting-tower, and thither they went. The meeting was fraught with many mingled feelings. Helen had not seen her uncle since the death of her father; and, as soon as the first gratulations were over, she retired to an apartment to weep alone. Lord Ruthven, on Cummin being presented to him, told him that he must now salute him as Earl of Bade- noch, for that his brother, the late Regent, had been kil- led a few days before in a battle on the skirts of Ettrick Forest. He then turned to welcome Bi uce, who, tffi- sing his visor, received from Ruthven the homage due to his sovereign dignity. Wallace and the prince soon engaged him in a discourse immediately connected with the design of their return, and learnt that Scotland did indeed require the royal arm and the counsel of its m : THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 239 We&t aiid lately almost banished friend. The whole of the eastern part of the country -vvas in the possession of Edward's generals. They had seized on every castle in the Lowlands ; and after a dauntless defence, in which the veteran knight of Thirlestane behaved with a steady valour miraculous in so old a man, he fell, and with himself his only son and his castle. The sage of Ercildoun, having protected Lady Isabella Mar at Lear- mont during the siege of Thirlestane, on hearing its fate conveyed her northward : but falling sick at Ros- lyn, he stopped there ; and the messenger, he dispatch- ed to Hunting-tower with the calamitous tiding respec- ting Tweedale, also bore information that several advan- ced parties of Southrons were hovering on the heights near Roslyn, and that an immense army was approach- ing. — Ercildoun added, that he understood Sir Simon Eraser was hastening forward with a small body to cut off these squadrons ; but that from the contentions be- tween Athol and Soulis for the vacant regency, he had no hopes, were his forces even equal to those of En- gland, that 'he could succeed. At this communication. Cummin bluntly proposed himself as the terminator of this dispute. '^ If the re- gency were allowed to my brother as head of the house of Cummin, that dignity now rests with me; and, give the word my sovereign," said he addressing Bruce, " and none there will dare to oppose my rights." — Ruthven approved this proposal : and Wallace, deeming it not only the best way of silencing the pretensions of those old disturbers of the public tranquillity, but a hap- py circumstance in putting the chief magistracy into the hands of a confident of their design, seconded the advice of Ruthven; and John Cummin, Lord Baden- och, was immediately invested v/ith the regency, and dispatched to the army to assume it as if in right of his being next heir to the throne in default of Bruce. Wallace sent Lord Douglas into Clydesdale to in- form Lord Bothweii of his arrival, and to desire his at- tendance v.'ith the Lanark division and his own troops, on the banks of the Eske. Ruthven ascended the Grampians to call out the numerous clans of Perth- shire : and Wallace and his prince prepared themselves 'it' S.I 240 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. for meeting- these auxiliaries before the tower of Ros- lyn. Meanwhile, as Hunting-tower would be an inse- cure asylum for Helen, when it should be left to domes- tics alone, Wallace proposed to Edwin that he should escort his cousin to Braemar and place her under the care of his mother and the widowed Countess. " Thith- j er," continued he, " we will send Lady Isabella also, | should heaven bless our arms at Roslyn." Edwin ac- ' quiesced, as he was to return with all speed to join his friend on the southern bank of the Forth ; and Helen, aware that fields of blood were no scenes for her, while her heart was wrung* to agony at the thought of relin- quishing Wallace to dangers which every moment threatened to deprive her of him for ever, yielded a re- luctant assent — not merely to go, but to take that look ©f him which might be the last. The sight of her uncle and the objects around, had so recalled the days of her infancy, when in this castle she enjoyed the fond caresses of her father, that ever since she arrived, a sadness had hung over her spirits which often dissolved her into tears. She was now "to bid adieu to Wallace. She remembered that a few months ago she had seen her father go out to battle whence he never returned. — Should the same doom await her with re- gard to Wallace I — This idea shook her whole frame with an agitation that sunk her, in spite of herself, on the bosom of Wallace as Edwin approached to lead her to her horse. Her emotions penetrated the heart against which she leaned. " My gentle sister,'' said Wallace, " do not despair of our final success ; of the safety of all whom you regard.'' " Ah ! Wallace," faltered she in a voice rendered hardly audible by tears, " but did I not lose my father ?" — " Sweet Helen," returned he, ten- derly retaining her trembling form which she now at- tempted, but feebly from her emotion, to extricate from his arms, " you lost him, but he gained by the exchange. And should the peace of Scotland be purchased by the lives of some who contend for her emancipation, should they even be your friends, if Bruce survives, you must still think your prayers blest. Were I to fall, my sister, in this cause, my sorrows would be over ; and from the region of universal blessedness I should enjoy the sight of Scotland's happiness with unmixed felicity." THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 241 " Were we all to enter those regions at one time," faintly replied Helen, " there would be comfort in such thoughts ; but as it is " here she paused, her tears stopped her utterance. " A few years is a short sepa- ration," returned Wallace, " when we are to be here- after united to all eternity. This is my consolation when I think of Marion, — when memory dwells with the friends lost in these dreadful conflicts : and, what- ever be the fate of thdse who now survive, call to re- membrance my words, dear Helen, and the God, who was my instructor, will send you comfort." " Then farewell my friend, my bi'otherl" cried she, forcibly tearing herself away, and throwing herself into the arms of Edwin, " Leave me now, and the angel of the just will bring you in glory here or hereafter to your sister Helen." Wallace fervently kissed the hand she extended to him, and with an emotion which he had thought he should never feel again for mortal wo- man, he left the apartment. CHAP. XXH. I 1 HE day after the departure of Helen, Wallace, to indulge the impatience of his royal companion, set forth to meet the returning steps of Ruthven with his gathered legions. Having passed along the romantic borders of Invermay, the friends descended to the more precipitous banks of the Earn at the foot of the Gram- I plans, and wound amongst the depths of those green labyrinths, till Bruce, who had never been in such mountainous wilds before, exclaimed, that they must have wandered far from any human track. " The way is as familiar to me,'* returned Wallace, who had often trodden it; " as the garden of Hunting-tower." The day, which had been cloudy, suddenly turned to wind and rain; and certainly spread an air of desola- tion over the scene ; very dreary to an eye which from infancy had been accustomed to the fertile plains of the ever-cheerful south. The whole of the road was rough, diingerous, and dreadful. The steep and bl^ck VOL. II. X 242 THE SCOTTISH ^HIEFS. rocks towering above their heads, seemed to threaten ' the precipitation of some of their impending masses into the path below. But Wallace had told Bruce they were in the right track ; and he gaily breasted both the storm and'"the perils of the road. They ascended a mountain whose 'enormous piles of granite, torn by many a win- ter tempest, projected their barren summits from a surface of moor-land on which lay a deep incrustation of snow. — The blast now blew so strong, and the rain and sleet beat so hard, that Bruce, laughing, declared he believed the witches of his country were in league with Edward, and hid in their shrouds of mist were all assembled here to drive their lawful prince into the roaring cataracts beneath. Thus, with torrents of water pouring down the sides of their armour, did the friends, enveloped in a sea of va- pours, descend the western brow of this part of the Grampians until they came to the margin of Loch-earn. They had hardly arrived there before the rain ceased, the clouds rolled away from the sides of the montains, and discovered the vast and precipitous Bcnvorlich. Its base was covered with huge stones scattered in frag- ments, like the wreck of some rocky world, and spread abroad in wide and horrid desolation. The mountain itself, the highest in this chain of the Grampians, was in every part marked by deep and black ravines made by the rushing waters in the time of floods; but where its blue head mingled with the clouds, a stream of bright- ness issued that seemed to promise the dispersion of j its vapours, and consequently a more secure path fori WsUace to lead his friend over its perilous heights. This appearance did not deceive. — The whole man- tle of clouds with which the tops of all the mountains had been obscured, roiled away towards the west, and, discovered to the eye of Wallace that this line of light'ii which he had discerned through the mist, was the host^ of Ruthven descending Benvorlich in defiles. From the nature of the path, they were obliged to move in a winding direction; and as the sun now shone full upon their arms, and their lengthened lines gradually extend- ed from the summit of the mountain to its base, no sight could contain more of the sublime; none of truer THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 243 grandeur, to the euraptured mind of Bruce. He for- got his horror of the wastes he had passed over, in the joy q)f beholding so i;oble an army of his countrymen thus approaching to place him upon the throne of his ancestors. "Wallace," cried he, " these brave hearts deserve a more cheerful home ! My sceptre must turn this Scotia dcserta into Scotia ftiix^ and so I shall reward the service they this day bring me." " They are happy in these wilds," returned Wallace: — '' their flocks browse on the hills, their herds in the vallies. The soil yields sufficient increase to support its sons ; and their greatest luxuries arc a minstrel's song and the lip of their brides. Their ambition is sa- tisfied with following their chief to the field; and their honour lies in serving their God, and maintaining the freedom of their country. Beware then, my dear prince, of changing the simple habits of those virtu- ous mountaineers. Introduce the luxurious cultivation of France into these tracts, you will infect them with artificial wants ; and with every want you put a link to a chain v/hich will fasten them in bondage whenever a tyrant chooses to grasp it. Leave them then their rocks as you find them, and you wall ever have a hardy race ready to perish in their defence, or to meet death for the royal guardian of their liberties." Lord Ruthven no sooner reached the banks of Loch- earn, than he espied the prince and Wallace. — Hfr joined them ; and marshalling his men in a wide tract cf land at the head of that vast body of water, he plac- ed himself, with the two supposed De Longuevilles, in the van, and marched through the vallies of Strathmore and Strathallan, into Stirlingshire. The Earl of Fife had the government of the castle and town of Stirling , and as he was a man much in the interest of the late Lord Badenoch the violent enemy of Wallace, Bruce negatived Ruthven's proposal to send in a messenger for the earl's division of troops : " No, my lord," said he, " like my friend Wallace, I will have no luke-warm hearts near me ; all must be earnest in my cause, or be entirely out of the contest — I am conteiit with the brave men I see around me." A' 244 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. After rapid marches and short haltings they arrived safe and without any impediment at Linlithgow, where Wallace proposed staying a night to refresh the troops, Avhich were now joined by Sir Alexander Ramsay at the head of a thousand of Iiis clan. While the men look rest, their chiefs waked to think for them. And Wallace, with Bruce and Ruthven and the brave Ram- say, (to whom Wallace had revealed himself, but still kept Bruce unknown) were in deep consultation re- _ specting the consequences of having put so efficient a » power as that of Regent into the hands of any of the *f race of Cummin, when Grimsby entered to inform his master that a young knight desired to speak with Sir Guy de Longueville. " What is his name ?'* demand- ed Wallace. " He refused to tell it," replied Grismby. '^ He is splendidly armed ; but as he wears his beaver shut, it is impossible for me to say any thing of his countenance." Wallace looked round with a glance that inquired whether the stranger should be admitted. " Certainly," s?id Bruce, " but first put on your mask.'* Wallace closed his visor; ai;d the moment after Grimsby re-entered with a knight of a very majestic mien, and habited in a suit of green armour studded with gold. He wore a lielmet from which streamed a long feather of the same hue. Wallace rose at his entrance ; the stranger advanced to him. " You are he whom I seek. —I am a Scot, and a man of few words. Accept my services ; allow me to attend you i.> this war, never to be separated from your side, and I will serve you faith- fully. Wallace replied, " And who is the bsave knight to whom Sir Guy de Longueville will owe so great an obligation." "My name," answered the s;ranger, " shall not be revealed till he who now wears that of the Reaver whom he slew, proclaims his own in the day of victory. — I know you, sir, but your secret is as safe with me as in your own breast. Allow me to fight by your side, and I am yours for ever." ' Wallace was surprised, but not confounded, by this speech- " I have only one question to ask you, noble stranger," replied he, "before I confide any part of a cause dearer to me than my own life, in your integrity ; tell me whether the iAformation you have gained with 1 [ THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 245 i respect to myself, was revealed to you by any follower [ of my own ? Or how did you become master of a se- I cret which I believed out of the power of eren treach- ery to betray ?" " To one of your questions I will an- swer. — No follower of yours has betrayed your secret to me. — I came by my information in the most honoura- ble manner ; but the means I shall never reveal till I see the proper time to declare my name ; and that mdry perhaps be in the same moment in which the assumed brother of that young Frenchman," added the stranger, turning to Brvce, " again appears publicly in Scotland a«r Sir William Wallace." " I am satisfied," replied he ; well-pleased that, who- i ever this knight might be, Bruce yet remained undis- ■ covered ; " I grant your request. — This brave youth, whose name I share, f .gives me the success of my sword ; I slew the Red Reaver, and therefore make i myself a brother to Thomas de Longueville. He fights on my right hand. — You shall be stationed at my left." "At the side next your heart, noble chief:" exclaimed the stranger, "let that everbe my post, there to guard the bulwark of Scotland, the life of the bravest of men." This enthusiasm did not surprise any present ; for it was the usual language of all who approached Sir William Wallace. And Bruce particularly pleased with the heart-felt energy with which it was uttered, forgot his disguise in the amiable fervour of approba- tion, and half-rose to welcome him to his cause ; But a look from Wallace, (who on being known, had uncov- ered his face) arrested the motion, and he sat down again, thankful for so timely a check on his precipi- tancy. In crossing the Pentland-Hills next day into Midlo- thian, they were met by Edwin, who had crossed from the north by the Frith of Forth, and having heard no tidings of the Scottish army iu the neighbourhood of Edinburgh, had proceeded on the road he knev/ it must take. Wallace introduced him to the knight of the green plume : for that was the appellation by which the stranger desired to be known : — And Edwin answered the mingled inquiries of his father and Wallace after how Helen bore her journey to Mar i—" Pretty well X 2 246 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. there," replied he, « but much better back again." — H.6^ then explained, that on his arrival with Helen at Brae-' mar, neither Lady Mar nor his mother would consent to remain so far from the spot where Wallace was again to contend for the safety of their country. Helen did not say any thing in opposition to their wishes : and at last Edwin yielded to the tears of his mother, anxious for her husband; and to the entreaties of Lady Mar, to bring them where they might at least not long endure the misery of suspense. Having once consented, with- out an hour's delay he set forth with the ladies to re- trace his steps to Hunting-tower ; and there he left them under a guard of three hundred men whom he brought from Mar for that pupose. Wallace much regretted the additional fatigue which the tender frame of Lady Helc^' had thus been compel- led to undergo; but as Edwin had provided for the se- curity of Hunting-tower, both he and Ruthven were re- conciled to their being so much the nearer news of (what they trusted would be) the happy issue of their arms. Bruce whose real name had not been revealed to the other ladies of Ruthven*s family, in a lowered voice asked Edwin some questions relative to the spir- its in which Helen had parted with him. " In losing her,*' added he, " my friend and I feel but as part of what we were. — Her presence seemed to ameliorate the fierceness of our war-councils; and ever reminded me of the guardian angel by whom heaven points our way." " I left her with looks like the angel you speak of," answered EdAvin ; " she bade me farewell upon the platform of the eastern tower of the castle. When I gave her a parting embrace, she raised herself from my breast, and stretching her arms to heaven, while iierpuresoul shone in her eyes, she exclaimed," Bless him, gracious God ; bless him and his noble comman- der ; may they ever, with the prince they love, be thine especial care 1" I knelt by her, my dear friend, as she uttered these words, and touching the hem of her garments as some holy thing, hurried from the spot. When mounted on my horse, and turning down by St. Concal's well, I looked back, and there she still «^tood I She waved her scarf towards m.c, till entering THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 247 the wood I lost her from my view." " Her prayers,'* said Wallace, " will fight for Scotland. — Such arms are veil befitting the virgins of Scotland to use against its foes ; and without such unction the warrior may draw his steel in vain." The stranger knight, the moment after his introduc- tion to Edwin, had engaged himself in conversation with Ramsay. But Lord Ruthven, turning from the minuter inquiries of his friends respecting the fair in- habitants of Hunting-tower, interrupted the discourse between the two knights, by asking Ramsay some ques- tions relative to the military positions on the banks of either Eske. Sir Alexander being the grandson of the Lord of Roslyn, and having passed his youth in its neighbourhood, was well qualified to answer these ques- tions ; and Wallace drawing towards the discussion, Bruce and Edwin followed his example ; and in such discourse they marched along till, passing before the lofty ridge of the Corstorphine hills, they were met by several groups of peasantry, flying as if from an enemy. At sight of the Scottish banners they stopped, and in- formed their armed countrymen, that the new Regent John of Badenoch, had, in opposition to the advice of Sir Simon Eraser, attacked the Southron army on its vantage ground near Borthwick Castle, and was conse- quently beaten. His shattered troops had fallen back towards Edinburgh, hoping to cross the Forth and elude their pursuers. The country people, dismayed, fled on all sides ; and these peasants, who came from Haw- thorndean, magnified by their report the number of the enemy to an incredible amount. Wallace knew how much to believe : but determin- ing, whether great or small the power of his adversary, jto intercept him at Roslyn, he sent to Cummin and to JFraser to rendezvous on the banks of the Eske. The [brave troops v.hich he led, ignorant of their real com- imander, obeyed his directions while they thought that j Lord Ruthven was their leader. As they passed along, i every village and solitary cot seemed recently deserted ; I and through an awful solitude they took their rapid way till the towers of Roslyn Castle hailed thej.i as a beacon from amidst the wooded heights of the north 248 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. Eske. " There," cried Ramsay, pointins^ to the em- battled rock, " stands the fortress of my forefathers 1 It shall this day be made famous for the actiony per- formed before its walls !" Wallace, whose knowledge of this part of the coun- try was not quite so familiar as that of Ramsay's, had learnt sufficient from him to decide at once which would be the most favourable position for a small and resolute band to assume against a large and conquer- ing army ; and accordingly disposing his troops, which did not amount to more than eight thousand ; he dis- patched about a thousand of them under the command of Ramsay to occupy the numerous caves in the south- ern banks of the Eske, whence he was to issue in va- rious divisions and with shouts, oiithe first appearance of any confusion in the enemy's ranks/'^^ Ruthven, meanwhile, went for a few minutes into the castle to embrace his niece, and to assure the vener- able Lord of Roslyn, then almost a prisoner within his walls, of the determination of the commanders who were his coadjutors, either to drive the Southrons again beyond the borders, or themselves to perish beneath the waters of the Eske. Edwin, v»ho with Grimsby had volunteered the dan- gerous service of reconnoitering the enemy, returned in an hour, bringing in a straggler from the English camp. When they seized him, Edwin promised him his life on condition that he should tell them the strength of the advancing army. The terrified wretch did not hesitate ; and from him they learnt that it was commanded by Sir John Segrave, and Ralph Confrey, a man v/hom Edward had intended should succeed the detesuble Cressingham as treasurer of Scotland ; and that deeming the country entirely subdued by the is- sue of the two last battles against the black and red Cummins, (''Hhe English commanders were laying schemes for a general plundering; and to sweep the land at once, Segrave had divided his army into three divisions, which on their arrival at some certain spot, where to separate, r.nd scatter themselves over the country to gather in the spoil. To be assured of this information being the truth; vvbile Grimsby remained THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 24i> to guard the prisoner, Edwin went alone into the path he was told the Southrons were- approaching, and from Si height he 4iscovcred about ten thousand of them winding along the valley. With this confirmation of the man's account, he brought him to the Scottish lines, and Wallace, who well knew how to reap advantage from the errors of his enemies, being joined by Eraser and the discomfited Regent, made the concerted sig- nal toRuth^en. That nobleman immediately point- ed out to his men the waving colours of the Southrons, as they approached beneath the over-hanging woods of Ilawthorndean. He exhorted them by their fathers, wives, and children, to breast the enemy at this spot, and grapple with him till he fell — " Scotland," cried^e, " is lost or won this day. — You are free men or slaves ; your families are your own, or the property of tyrants! — Fight stoutly, and God will yield you an invisible support." The Scots answered their general by a shout, and Galling on him to lead them forward, Ruthven placed himself with the Regent andFraserin the van, and led the charge. The Southrons, little expecting an assault from an adversary they had so lately driven off the field, were taken by surprise, but they fought well; and resolutely stood their ground, till Wallace and Bruce, who commanded the two flanking divisions, closed in upon them with an impetuosity that drove Confrey himself into the river, where an arrow from Sir Alexander Ramsay, who now rushed from con- cealment, finished his career, and threw him a breath- less corse among the plunging feet of his dismayed squadrons. As the ambuscade of Ramsay poured from his caves, the earth seemed teeming with mailed war- riors ; and the Southrons seeing the surrounding heights and the green defiles filled with the same ter- rific appearances, gave way on all sides, and almost be- lieving that the wizard power of the Sage of Ercildoun, whom they knew was in the castle, had conjured up this host to their destruction, they fled with precipita- tion towards their second division, which lay a few miles southward. Thither the conquering squadrons of the Scots followed them. The fugitives leaping 250 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. the trenches oi the encampment, called aloud to theii' comrades, " Arm ! arm I hell is in league against us !*' Segrave Nvas in a moment at the head of his legions, and a battle more desperate than the first blazed over the field. The flying troops of Confrey rallying around the standard of their general in chief, fought with the spirit of revenge ; and being now a body of nearly twenty thousand men against eight thousand Scots, the conflict became tremendous, and in several points the Southrons gained so greatly the advantage, that Vv^allace and Bruce, leaving their respective sta- tions to Edv/in and the green knight, threw themselves successively into those parts where the enemy seemed to prevail, and by exhortations, examples, and prowess, a thousand times turned the fate of the day, and ap- peared as they shot from rank to rank, to be two comets of fire sent before the troops to consume all who op- posed them. Segrave was taken, and forty brave Eng^ lish knights besides. Tl>e green surface of the ground was dyed red with Southron blood, and the men were on all sides calling for quarter, when the cry of " Havoc and St. George 1" issued from the adjoining hill. A band of Mid-Lothianers, who, for the sake of plunder, had stolen into that part of the deserted English camp which occupied the rear of the height, seeing from its top the advancing troops of the third division of the enemy, like guilty cowards rushed down amongst their comrades, echoing the war cry of England, and ex- claiming, " We are lost ; a host, reaching to the hori- zon, is just upon us 1" — Terror struck to almost every Scottish heart. The Southrone: who lately cried for mercy leaped upon their feet. The fight recom- menced with redoubled fury. Lord Robert Neville, at the head of the new reinforcement, charged into the centre of the Scottish legions. The rescue of Segrave was his object. Bruce and Edwin threw them.selves into the breach, which his impetuous valour had made into that part of their line, and fighting man to man, would have taken Neville also, had not a follower of that nobleman, wielding a pondrous mace, struck Bruce so terrible a blow, as to fracture his helriiet in twain, and cast him from his horse to the ground. The fall THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 251 of so active a leader excited as much dismay in the surrounding Scots, as it encouraged the revivi.ig spirits of the enemy. Edwin's only hope was now to preserve " his prince from being trampled on, and while he fought to that purpose, and afterwards sent the senseless body off the field to Roslyn Castle, Neville retook Segrave and the knights with him. Ruthven now contended with a feeble arm. Fatigued with the two preceding conflicts, covered with wounds, and perceiving indeed a host pouring upon them on all sides, (for the whole of Segrave's original army of thirty thousand men, ex- cepting -ft ose who had fallen in the preceding engage- ment:., vv;-re now assailing them) the Scots exhausted and in despair gave ground ; and some throwing away their arms to fly the more unencumbered, spread the confusion, and by exposing themselves panic-struck to the swords of their enemies, occasioned so general a havoc, that the day must have ended in the universal destruction of every Scot in the field, had not Wal- lace perceived the crisis, and that as Guy de Longue- ville, he shed his blood in vain. In vain his terrified countrymen saw him rush into the thickest of the car- nage : in vain he called to them by all that was sacred to man to stand to the last. He was a foreigner, and they had no confidence in his exhortations, death was before them, and they turned to fly. The fate of his country hung on an instant. The last rays of the set- ting sun shone full on the rocky promontory of the hill which projected over the field of combat. He took his resolution, and spurring his steed up the steep ascent, stood on the summit where he would be seen by the whole army, and taking off his helmet he wavec^ it in the air with a shout, and having drawn all eyes upon him suddenly exclaimed — " Scots ! you have this day- vanquished the Southrons twice! If you be men, re- member Cambuskenneth and follow William Wallace to a third victory." Tffe cry which issued from the amazed troops was that of a people who beheld the an- gel of their deliverance. " Wallace 1" was the charge word of every heart. The hero's courage seemed in- stantaneously diffused through every breast, and with braced arms and determined spirits forming at once in- 352 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. to the phalanx his thundering voice dictated, the Southrons again felt the weight of the Scottish steel ; and a battle ensued which made the bright Eske run purple to the sea, and covered the pastoral glades of Hawthorndean with the bodies of their invaders. Sir John Segrave and Neville were both taken. And ere night closed in upon the carnage Wallace granted quarter to those v/ho sued for it, and receiving their arms, left them to repose in their before depopu- lated camp. CHAP. XXIII. \T ALLACE having planted Eraser and Ramsay with an adequate force in charge of the prisoners, went to' the tent of the two Southron commanders to pay them the courtesy due to their bravery and rank before he re- tired with his victorious followers tov/ards Roslyn Cas- tle. He ejitered alone, and at sight of the warrior who had given them so signal a defeat the generals rose. Neville who had received a slight wound in one of his arms, stretched out the other to Wallace in answer to a compliment which that chieftain paid to his military conduct. " Sir William Wallace," said he, "that you were obliged to declare a name so deservedly renowned before the troops I led could be made to relinquish one step of their hard-earned advantage, was an acknow- ledgment in my favour almost equivalent to a victory." Sir John Segi'ave, who stood leaning on his sword with a disturbed countenance, interrupted him : " The fate of this day cannot be attributed to any earthly name or hand. I believe my sovereign will allow the zeal with which I have ever served him, and yet thirty thousand as brave men as ever crossed the marches, have faiicn before a handlul of Scots. Three victo- ries won over Edward's troops in one day, are not events of a common nature. God alone has been our van- quisher." " I acknowledge it," cried Wallace, " and that he is on the side of justice let the return of St. Matthias's day ever remind your countrymen 1" THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 253 Segrave, when he gave the victory to the Lord of Hosts, did it more from jealousy of what might be Edward's opinion of his conduct when compared with Neville's, than from any intention to imply that the cause of Scotland was justly heaven-defended. Such are the impious inconsistencies of unprincipled men I He frowned at the reply of Wallace, and turned gloomi- ly away. Neville returned a respectful answer, and their conqueror soon after left them. Edwin, with the Knight of the Green Plume, who had indeed approved his valour by many a brave deed per- formed at his commander's side, awaited his return from the tent. Rutliven came up at the instant that Wallace joined them, and he heard from him that Bruce was safe under the care of the Sage of Ercildoun, and that the Regent, who had been wounded in the be- ginning of the day, was also in Roslyn Castle. All other of the survivors who had suffered in these three desperate battles were collected from amongst the slain and carried by Wallace's orders into the neigh- bouring castles of Hawthorndean, Brunston, and Dal- keith. The rest of the soldiers were ordered to repose themselves on their arms. These duties performed, Wallace thought of satisfying the anxieties of friend- ship as well as loyalty, and of going to see how Bruce fared. The moon shone brightly as the party rode forward. The river rushing along its shelving bed glittered in her beams, and pouring over the shattered fragments of many a time-precipitated cliff, fled in hoarse murmurs from the perpendicular sides of the blood-stained heights which imprisoned its struggling waters. As Wallace ascended the steep acclivity on which Roslyn Castle stands, and in crossing the draw -bridge which di- vides its rocky peninsula from the main land, he looked around and sighed. The scene reminded him of Ellers- lie. A deep shadow lay on the woods beneath ; and the pensile branches of the now leafless trees hanging down to meet the flood, seemed mourning the deaths which now polluted its stream. The water lay in pro- found repobc at the base of these beautiful craigs, as if VOL. II. Y 254 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. peace longed to become an inhabitant of so lovely a scene. At the gate of the castle its aged master the Lord Sinclair met Wallace to bid him welcome. " Blessed be the saint of this day/' exclaimed he, " for thus bring- ing our best defender, even as by a miracle, to snatch us as a brand from the fire I My gates, like my heart, open to receive the true Regent of Scotland." " I have only done a Scotchman's duty, venerable Sinclair," i;e- plied Wallace, as he entered the house, "and must Dot arrogate a title to myself which heaven has transfer- red to other hands." " Not heaven, but the base envy of man,'* replied the old chieftain. " It was rebellion against the supreme wish of the nation, that invested the black Cummin with the regency; and some infatu- ation has bestowed the same title on his brother. What did he not lose till you, Scotland's true champion, re-appeared to rescue he*;- again from slavery ?" " The present Lord Badenoch is an honest and a brave man," replied Wallace ; " and as I obey the power which ^^ave him his authority, I am ready, by fidelity to him, to serve Scotland with as vigorous a zeal as ever ; so, no- ble Sinclair, wlien our rulers cast not trammels on our virtues, let us obey them as the vicegerents of heaven." Wallace then asked to be conducted to his wounded friend Sir Thomas de Longiveviiie, (for Sinclair was ig- Tiorant of the real rank of his guest,) and his rejoicing host, eager to oblige him, immediately led him through a gallery and opening the door of an apartment discover- ed Bruce lying extended on a couch, and an old man, vhose silver beard and sv/eeping robes announced to be ■he Sage of Ercikloun, bathing his head with balsams. A young creature, beautiful as the creation of genius, hung over the prostrate chief She held a golden cas- l-.et in her hancl, out of which the, sage drew the unc- ions he applied. And Bruce himself, as he lay under ihe healing ministration, never withdrew his eyes from the angelic being which seemed to hover near him. At the sound of Wallace's voice, who spoke in a low tone to Ruthvcn as he entered the chamber, the wound- ed prince foe a moment forgot both his pain and admi- lation of female loveliness, and starting on his arm THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 255 stretched out his hand to his friend, — but he as instant- ly fell back again. Wallace hastened forward with an agony of fear that perhaps Bruce was in greater danger than he had believed. He knelt down by him. Bruce recovered a little from the swoon into which the sud- denness of his attempt to rise had occasioned. Feel- ing a hand grasping his, he guessed to whom it be- longed, and gently pressing it, smiled; and in a mo- ment afterwards opening his eyes, in a low voice arti- culated'—" My dear Wallace you are victorious I" " Completely so, my prince and king," returned he in the same tone ; " ail is now plain before you ; speak but the word and render Scotland happy 1" "Not yet, O ! not yet," whispered he. " My more than brother, allow Bruce to be himself again before l^e is known iu the land of his fathers! I have but yet began my proba- tiotti Not a Southron Tnust taint our native lands when my name is proclaimed in Scotland." Wallace saAv that his prince was not in a state to bear farther argument ; and as all had retired far from the couch when he approached it, in gratitude for this pro- priety (for it had left him and his friend free to con- verse unobserved,) he turned tov/ards the other inmates of the chamber. The sage advanced to him; and re- cognising in his now manly form the fine youth he had seen with Sir Ronald Crawford at the claiming of the crown ; he saluted him with a paternal aftection which tempered Caq sublime feelings with which he approach- ed the resistless champion of his country : and then beckoning the beautiful girl who had so riveted the attention of Bruce, she drew near the sage. He took iier hand: "Sir William Wallace," said he, "this sweet child is a daughter of the brave Mar who died in the field of glory on the Carron. — Her grandfather fell a few weeks ago, defending his castle ; and I am almost all that is left to her." Isabella, for it was she, covered her face to conceal her emotions. " Dear lady," said Wallace, "these venerable heroes were both known and beloved by me. And now that heaven has resumed them to itself, as the last act of friendship that I am . perhaps fated to pay their offspring, I shall convey you to a sister whose matchless heart yearns to receive so dear a consolation." 256 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. To disengage Isabella's thoughts from the afflicting remembrances which were bathing her cheeks with tears, Ercildoun put a cup of the mingled juice of herbs into her hand and commissioned her to give it to their invalid. Wallace now learnt that his friend's principal wound was in the head, accompanied by so severe a concussion of the brain, that it would be many- days before he could remove from off his bed without danger. Anxious to release him from even the scarcely-breathed whispers of his raartial companions who stood at some distance from his couch, Wallace immediately proposed leaving him to repose ; and beckoning Edwin, who was bending in affectionate si- lence over his prince, he withdrew; leaving none others than the good sage and the tender Isabella, whose soft attentions seemed to beguile Bruce of every pain, to administer to his comfort. Wallace then accompanied Sinclair to the apartment of the Regent ; and finding him in a fair way of reco- very, after sitting an hour with him he bade his friends adieu for the night, and retired to his own repose. Next morning he v/as aroused at day-break by the abrupt entrance of Andrew Lord Bothwell into his chamber. The well-known sounds of his voice made Wallace start from his pillow and extend his arms to receive him. — " Murray ! my brave, invaluable Mur- ray !" cried he, " thou art welcome once more to the side of thy brother in arms. Thee and thir/'j must ever be first in my heart !'' The young Lord Bothwell for some time returned his warm embrace in eloquent si- lence ; at last, sitthig down by Wallace's bed, as he grasped his hand he said, pressing it to his breast, "I feel a happiness here, which I have never known since the day of Falkirk. You quitted us, Wallace, and ail good seemed gone v/ith you, or buried in my father's grave. But you return ! you bri-ng conquest and peace with you ; you restore our Helen to her family ; you bless us with yourself! — And shall you not again see the gay Andrew Murray? It must be so, my friend, melancholy is not my climate ; and I shall now live in your beams." — — " Dear IViurray !" returned Wallace, '' lliis generous enthusiasm can only be equalled by my THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 257 joy in all that makes you and Scotland happy." He then proceeded to impart to him, in confidence, all tha'. related to Bruce ; and to describe the minutise of those plans for his establishment, which ha.d only been hinted in his letters from France. Bothwell entered with ardour into these loyal designs, and regretted that the difficulty he found in persuading the Lanarkers to follow him to any field where they did not expect to find their beloved Wallace, had deprived him of the partici- pation iie wished in the late danger and new glory of his friend. " To compensate for that privation," re- plied Wallace, " while our prince is disabled from in person pursuing his victories, we must not allow our present advantages to lose their expected effects. You shall accompany me through the Lowlands, where we must recover the places which the ill-fortune of James Cummin has lost." Murray gladly embraced this opportunity of again sharing the field with Wallace. And when the chiefs JoinedBruce, (where Douglas was already seated by his couch,) after Bothwell was presented to his young sove- reign, they entered into discourse relative to their fu- ture different posts of duty. Wallace suggested to his royal friend that, as his restoration to heaUh could not be so speedy as the cause required, it would be ne- cessary not to await the event, but immediately begin the recovery of the border counties before Edward could reinforce their Southron garrisons. Bruce sigh- ed, but with a generous glow suffusing his pale face, he said — " Go, my friend ! Bless Scotland what way you will, and let my ready acquiescence convince future ages that I love my country beyond my own fame : for its sake I relioquish to you the whole glory of deliver- ing it out of the hands of the tyrant who has so long usurped my rights. Men may say when they hear this, that I do not merit the crov/n you will put iTpon my head ; that I have lain on a couch while you fought for me ; but I will bear all obloquy, rather than deserve its slightest charge by withholding you an hour from the great work of Scotland's peace." " It is not for the breath of men, my dear prince," returned Wallace, " that either you or I act. It is sufficient for us that Y 2 258 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. we effect their good ; and whether the agent be one or the other, the end is the same. Our deeds and inten- tions have one great judge ; and he ViiW award the only true glory." Such were the principles which filled the hearts of these two friends, worthy of each other and alike hon- ourable to the country that gave them birth. Though the wounded John Cummin remained pos~ sessed of the title of Regent, Wallace was virtually en- dowed with the authority. Whatever he suggested was acted upon as by a decree : — all eyes looked up to him &.S to the cynosure by which every order of men in Scotland were to shape their course. The jealousies which had driven him from his former supreme seat, seemed to have died wath their prime instigator the late regent ; and no chief of any consequence, excep- ting Soulis mK\ Athol, M'ho retired in disgusts to their different castles, breathed a word in opposition to the general gratitude. Wallace, having sent back his prisoners to their coun- try on the same terms which he formerly dictated, com- menced his march farther into the Lowlands, where the fame of his victories seconded by the enthusiasm of the people and the determination of his troops, soon made him master of all the fortresses. His own valiant band, headed by Scrymgeour, had recognised their beloved leader with rapturous joy, and followed his standard with a zeal that rendered each individual a host in him- self. Hardly three weeks were consumed in these con- quests, and not a Tood of land remained south of the Tay in the possession of England, excepting Berwick. Before that often disputed strong hold, Wallace drew up his forces 'to commence a regular siege: and the governor, intimidated by the powerful works which he saw the Scottish chief forming against the town, dis- patched a ntessenger to Edward with the tidings; and to tell him, that if he would not grant the peace for which the Scots fought, or immediately send succors to Berwick, he would find it necessary to begin the con- £^uest of the kingdom anew. I A THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 259 CHAP. XXIV. W HILE Wallace, accompanied by his brave friends, was thus carrying all before him from the Grampian to the Cheviot hills, Bruce was rapidly recovering. His eager wishes seemed to heal his wounds; and on the tenth day after the departure of Wallace, he left that couch which had been beguiled of its irksomeness by the smiling attentions of the tender Isabella. The ensu- ing sabbath beheld him restored to full vigour; and ha- ving imparted his intentions to the Lords Ruthven and Douglas, who were both with him, the next morning he joyfully buckled on his armour. Isabella, when she saw him thus clad, started, and the roses left her cheek. " I am armed to be your guide to Hunting-tower," said he, with a look that shewed he read her thoughts. He then called for pen and ink to write to Wallace. The now re-assured Isabella, rejoicing in the glad beams of his br'fjhtcning eyes, held the standish. As he dip- ped his pen, he looked up at her with smiles and a grate- ful tenderness that thrilled to her soul, and made her bend her blushing face to hide emotions which whispered bliss in every beat of her happy heart. Thus, with a spirit which wrapt him in felicity; for victory hailed him from without, and love seemed to woo him to the dearest transports within; he wrote the following letter to Wallace : " I am now well, my best friend! This day I attend my lovely nurse, with her venerable guardian, to Hun- ting-tower. Eastward of Perth almost every castle of consequence is yet filled by the Southrons, whom the folly of James Cummin allowed to re-occupy the places whence you had so lately driven them. I go to root them out, to emulate in the north what you are now do- ing in the south ! You shall see me again when the banks of the Spey are as free as you have made the Forth. In all this I am yet Thomas de Longueville. Isabella, the sweet soother of my hours, knows me as no other, for would she not despise the unfamed Bruce ? To de- serve and win her love as De Longueville, and to marry her as King of Scotland, is the fond hope of your friend and brother Robert " 260 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS '"P. S. I shall send you dispatches of my procee- dings. — '* Wallace had just made a successful attack upon the outworks of Berwick when this letter was put into his hand. He was surrounded hy his chiefta'ns, and having lead it, he informed them that Sir Thomas de Longue^* ville was going to Hunting-tower, whence he intended to make excursions to rid the neighbouring castles of the enemy. " The hopes of his enterprising spirit," continued Wallace, " are so seconded by his determination that what he promises he will perform, and we may soon ex- pect to hear that we have no enemies in the Highlands." But in this he was disappointed. Day after day pas- sed away, and ho tidings arrived from the north. Wal- lace became anxious, and Bothwell and Edwin began to share his uneasiness. Continued successes against Berwick had assured him of a speedy surrender, when a Southron reinforcement being throv/n in by sea the confidence of the garrison was re-excited, and the ram- parts being doubly manned, Wallace saw the only alter- native was to attempt the possession of their ships and turn the siege into a blockade. Should Bruce be pros- perous in the Highlands, he would have full leisure to await the fall of Berwick upon this plan, and much blood might be spared. Intent and execution were twin-born in the breast of Wallace. By a masterly stroke he ef- fected his design on the shipping; and having closed 'he Southrons within their v/alls, he dispatched Lord Bothwell to Hunting-tower to see Ruthven, to learn the state of military operations there, and above all, he ho- ped to bring back good tidings of the prince. On the evening of the very day in vr hich Murray left Berwick a desperate sally was made by the garrison, but they were beaten back v/ith great slaughter, and with such effect that Wallace gained possession of one of their most commanding towers. The con- test did not end till night; and after passing some time in the council-tent listening to the suggestions of his friends relative to the use that might be made of the new acqu-isition, he retired to his own quarters at a late hour. At these momentous periods he never THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 261 seemed to need sleep : and seated at his table, settling the dispositions for the succeeding day, he marked not the time till the flame of his exhausted lamp expired in the socket. — He replenished it ; and had again re- signed his military labours, ^vhen the curtain which covered the door of his tent was drawn aside and an armed man entered. Wallace looked up; and seeing that it was the knight of the green plume, asked if any thing had occurred from the town. . " Nothing," replied the knight, in an agitated voice, and seating himself beside Wallace. "Any evil tidings from my friends in Perthshire ?" demanded Wallace, who now hardly doubted that ill news had arrived of Bruce. " None," was the knight's reply, " but I aH^. come to fulfil my promise to you ; to unite myself for ever, heart and soul, to your destiny; or you behold me this night for the last time." Wallace, surprised at this address and at the emotion which shook the frame of the unknown warrior, answered him with ex- pressions cf esteem, and added : " If it depends on me to unite so brave a man to my friendship for ever, only speak the word, declare your name, and I am ready to seal the compact." " My name," returned the knight, ** will indeed put these protestations to the proof, I have fought by your side, Sir William Wallace. I would have died at any moment to have spared that breast a wound; and yet I dread to raise this visor, to shev/ you who I am. A look will make me live, or blast me." " Your language confounds me, noble knight," replied Wallace, " I know of no man living, saving either of the base violators of Lady Helen Mar's liberty, who need trem.ble before my eyes. It is not possible that either of these men is before me; and whoever you are, whatever you may have been, brave chieftain, your deeds have proved you worthy of a sol- dier's friendship, and I pledge you mine." The knight was silent. — He took Wallace's hand — ■ he grasped it; — the arms that held it did indeed trem- ble. W'allace again spoke. — " What is the meaning of this? I am no tyrant, no monarch, to excite these dreads. I have a power to benefit, but none to injure.'* " To benefit and to injure !" cried the knight in a tran- 552 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. sport of emotion ; " you have my life in your hands. Oh t grant it, as you value your ov/n happiness and honour ! Look on me, and say whether I am to live or die/' As the warrior spoke, he cast himself impetuously on ; his knees, and threw open his visor. Wallace saw a j fine but flushed face. — It was much overshadowed by ;J the helmet. " My brave friend,'* said he, attempting .1 ^to raise him by the hand which clasped his; "your j words are mysteries to me; and so little right can I i have to the power you ascribe to me, that, although it i seems to me as if I had seen your features before, yet ,, ' " " You forget me," cried the knight starting on r his feet and throwing off his helmet to the ground : " Again look on this face, and stab me at once by a second declaration that I am remembered no more V* The countenance of Wallace now shewed that he too well remembered it. He was pale and aghast. " Lady Mar," cried he, "not expecting to see you. un- der a warrior's casque, you will pardon me that when so apparelled I should not immediately recognise the widow of my friend." " Ingrate ! ingrate 1" cried she, turning pale as himself; " and is it thus you answer the sacrifices I have made for you ? For you I have com- mitted an outrage on my nature ; I have put on me this abhorrent steel ; I have braved the dangers of many a hard-fought day ; — and all to guard your life ; to con- vince you of a love unexampled in woman ! and thus you recognise her who has risked honour and life for you, with coldness and reproach I*' " With neither, Lady Mar," returned he, " I am grateful for the ge- nerous motives of your conduct ; but for the sake of the fair fame you confess you have endangered ; in respect to the memory of him whose name you bear ; I cannot but v/ish that so liazardous an instance of in- terest in me had been left undone." " If that is all," returned Lady Mar, drawing towards him ; " it is in your power to ward from me every stigma! Who will dare to cast one reflection on my fair fame when you bear testimony to my purity ? Who will asperse the i name of Mar, when you displace it with that of Wal- lace ? Make me yours, dearest of men," cried she I clasping his hands, " and you will receive one to your THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 263 heart who never knew how to love before ; who will be to you what woman never yet was ; and who will bring you territories,, if not more, yet nearly equal to those of the King of Scotland. My father, who held them during Lord Mar's life, is no more ; and now. Countess of Strathearn and Princess of the Orkneys, I have it in my power to bring a sovereignty to your head and the fondest of wives to your bosom." As she vehemently spoke, and clung to Wallace as if she had already a right to seek comfort within his arms, her tears and violent agitation so disconcerted him that for a few moments he could not find a reply. This short endur- ance of her passion aroused her almost drooping hopes; and intoxicated with so rapturous an illusion she threw off the little restraint in which her awe of Wallace's coldness had confined her, and flinging herself on his breast, poured forth all her love and fond ambitions for him. In vain he attempted to interrupt her, to raise her with gentleness from her indecorous situation ; she had no perception but for the idea which had now taken possession of her heart, and whispering to him softly, she said, "Be but my husband, Wallace, and all rights shall perish before my love and your aggrandizement. In these arms you shall bless the day you first saw Joanna Strathearn 1" The prov/ess of the knight of the green plume, the respect he owed to the widow of the Earl of Mar, the tenderness he ever felt for all of woman-kind, were all forgotten in the disgusting blandishments of this deter- mined wanton. She wooed to be his wife; but not with the chaste appeal of the widow of Mahlon. " Let me find favour in thy sight, for' thou hast comforted me!" said the fair Moabitess, who in a strange land cast herself at the feet of her deceased husband's friend ; " Spread thy garment over me, and let me be thy wife !'* She was answered, " I will do all that thou requirest, for thou art a virtuous woman .'" But nei- ther the actions nor the words of Lady Mar bore wit- ness tiiat she deserved this appellation. They were the dictates of & passion as impure as it was intemper- ate. Blinded by its fumes she forgot the nature of the iieart she sought to pervert to sympathy with hers. 064 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. She saw not that every look and movement on her part filled Wallace with aversion ; and not until he forcibly broke from her did she doubt the success of her fond caresses. " Lady Mar," said he, " I m^st repeat that I am not ungrateful for the proofs of regard you have bestowed on me ; but such excess of attachment is lavished upon u man that is a bankrupt in love. I am cold as monu- mental marble to every touch of that passion to which I was once but too entirely devoted. Bereaved of the object, I am punished ; thus is my heart doomed to solitude on earth, for having made an idol of the angel that was sent to cheer and guide me in the path to heaven." Wallace said even more than this. He re- monstrated with her in the gentlest manner, on the shipv/reck she was making of her own happiness in ad- hering thus tenaciously to a man who could only re- gard her with the general sentiment of esteem. He urged her beauty and yet youthful years. How many would be eager to win her love and to marry her with honour; when, under the circumstances into which she had thrown herself with him, should she persist, nothing could accrue but disappointment and disgrace. While he continued to speak to her with the tender consideration of a brother, she, who knew no grada- tions in the affections of the heart, doubted his words and believed that a latent fire glowed in his breast which her art might still blow into a fiame. She threw herself upon her knees, she wept, she implored his pity, she wound her arms around his and bathed his hands with her tears ; but still he continued to urge her by every argument of female delicacy to relinquish her ill-directed love, and to return to her domains before her absence couid be generally known. — She looked up to read ms countenance : a friend's anxiety, nuy, au- thority, Vr r there, but no glow of passion ; all was calm and deter med. Her beauty tuen had been shewn to a m.an wiMiovJt eyes ; her tender eloquence poTired on an ear that Wc\s deaf; and her blan'.tishments lavished on a block of marble ! In a paroxysm of despair she dashed the hand which she held far from her, and standing proudly on her feet — " Hear me, thou man of stone I" THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. .6^ cried she, " and answer me on your life and iionour, for both depend on your reply, Is Joanna Strathcarn to be your wife or not V " Cease to urge me, unhappy lady," returned Wal- lace; "on what you already know the decision of this ever widowed heart." Lady Mar looked siedfastly at him: "Then receive my last determuiation !" cried she, and drawing near him with a desperate and por- tentous expression in her countenance, as if she meant to whisper in his ear, she on a sudden plucked St. Louis's dagger from his girdle and struck it into his breast. Before it could penetrate to a mortal depth he caught the hand which grasped the hilt. Her eyes glared with the fury of a maniac, and with a horrid laugh she exclaimed, " I have slain thee, insolent tri- umpher in my love and agonies ! — Thou shalt not now deride me in the arms of thy minion : for I know that it is not for the dead Marion you liave trampled on my heart, but for the living Helen !" As she spoke, he moved her hold from the dagger, and drew the weapon from the wound. A torrent of blood flowed over his vest and stained the hand that grasped hers. She turned of a deadly paleness, but a demoniac joy still gleamed in her eyes. " Lady Mar," cried he, " I pardon this outrage. Go in peace, and I shall never breathe to man or woman the occurrences of this night. Only re- member, that with regard to Lady Helen, my wishes are as pure as her own virgin innocence." " So they may be now, vainly-boasting, immaculate Wallace 1" answered she, with bitter derision, " men are saints, when their passions are satisfied. Think not to impose on her who knows how this vestal Helen followed you in page's attire, and without one stigma being cast on her maiden delicacy ! I am not to learn the days and nights she passed alone with you in the woods of Nor- mandy ! — Did you not follow her to France ? — Did you not tear her from the arms of Lord Aymcr de Valence ? Andn&w, relinquishing her yourself, you leave a dis- honoured bride to cheat the vows of some honester man 1 — Wallace, I now know you: and as I have been fool enough to love you beyond all woman's love, I VOL. II. z 266 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. swear by the powers "of heaven and hell, to make yoii feel the weight of woman's hatred !" Her denunciations had no effect on Wallace : blither slander against her unoffendin*- daughter-in-law agita ted him with an indignation that almost dispossessed hi of himself. In few but hurried and vehement words, he denied all that she had alleged against Helen, and appealed to the whole court of France to bear witness to her spotless innocence. Lady Mar exulted in this emoticn, though every sentence, by the interest it dis- played in its object, seemed to establish the truth of that suspicion which she had only uttered as the mere ebul- lition of her spleen. Triumphing in the belief that he had found another as frail as herselfi, and yet maddened that that other should have been preferred before her, her jealous pride took fresh flame — " Swear," cried she, ^' till I see the blood of that false heart forced to my feet to ratify the oath, and still I shall believe the base daugh- ter of Mar a wanton. I go, not to proclaim her dishon- our to the world, but to deprive her of her lover ; to yield the rebel Wallace into the hands of justice ! When on the scaffold, proud exulter in those now detested beauties, remember that it was Joanna Strathearn who laid thy head upon the block ; who consigned those limbs, of heaven's own statuary, to decorate the spires i of Scotland 1 Remember that my curse pursues you here and hereafter !*' A livid fire seemed to dart from her eyes ; her countenance was torn as by some inter- nal nend ; and with the last malediction thundering from lier tongue she darted from his sight. CHAP. XXV. J. HE next morning Wallace was recalled from the confusion into which his nocturnal visitor had thrown his mind, by the entrance of Ker, who came as usual with the reports of the night and to reeeive his orders for the day. In the course of their conversation, Ker men- tioned that about three hours after sun-rise the knight of the green plume had left the camp with his dispatch- THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. ^e: ;s for Stirling. Wallace \vas scarcely surprised at llus :eady falsehood of Lady Mar's; and not intending to Detray her, he merely said; " It is well; and long ere .10 appears again, I hope we shall have good tiding? Torn our friends on the Tay." But day after day passed, and, notwithstanding Both - weirs embassy, no accounts arrived.— The Countcst^ Liad left behind an emissary who did as she bad done before, intercept all messengers from Perthshire. The morning after the night in v/hich she had cla:.' destinely stolen from Hunting-tower, she ordered th(: seneschal of that castle (her only confident in this trans- action) to tell Lady Ruthvcn that he had just spoken with a knight who came to say that the Countess of Sirathcarn and Mar had commanded him to tell the fa- mily that she was gone on a secret mission to Norway, and therefore desired her sister-in-law, for the sake oi' the cause most dear to her, that neither slie nor any h the castle would inform Lord Ruthven ca- his friends oi her departure till she should return ^vith, ske hopedj happy news for Scotland . The man said, that after de- claring this the knight rode hastily away. But this precaution, which did indeed impose on the innocent credulity of her husband's sister and daughter, failed to satisfy the countess herself. Fearful that Helen might communicate her flight to Wallace and so ex- cite his suspicion that she was not far from him, from the moment of her joining him at Linlithgov/ she inter- cepted every letter from Hunting-tower ; and continu- ed to do so after Bruce went to that castle, jealous of what might be said of Helen by this Sir Thomas de Longueville, in whom he seemed so undeservedly to confide. To this end, all packets from Perthshire were eonveyed to her by a spy she had in the camp : and all which were sent thence, were stopped at Hunting-tov/- er (through which channel they v/ere directed to go,) and by the treacherous seneschal throv/n into the flames. No letters ever came from Helen: a few bore Lord Ruthven's superscription; and all the rest were addres- sed by Sir Thomas de Longueville to Wallace. She broke the seals of this correspondence ; but she looked in vain on their contents. Bruce and his friend, as v^ell 268 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. f j as Ruthven, wrote in a cypher; and only one passage, which the former had by chance written in the common character, could she ever make out. — It ran thus : *' I have just returned to Huntinc^ -tower after the capture of Kinsouns. Lady Helen sits by me on one side, Isabella on the other. Isabella smiles on me like a Hourii. Helen's look is not less gracious, for I tell her I am writing to Sir William Wallace. She smiles, but it is with such a smile as that with which a saint would relinquish to heaven the dearest object of its love." " Helen," said I, " what shall I say from you to your friend V She blushed. " That I pray for him." " That you think of him ?" « That I pray for him," re- peated she more emphatically ; " that is the way I al- ways think of my preserver." Her manner checked me, my dear W^allace ; but I would give worlds that you could bring your heart to make this sweet vestal smile as I do her sister !" Lady Mar crushed the registered wish, so hostile to her hopes, in her hand ; and though she was never able to decypher a word more of Bruce's numerous letters, (many of which, could she have read, contained com- plaints of that silence which she had so cruelly occa- sioned on both sides,) she took and destroyed them all. She had ever shunned the penetrating eyes of Both- well ; and to have him on the spot when she should dis- cover herself to Wallace, she thought would only invite his discomfiture ; and therefore, in affecting to share the general anxiety respecting the affairs in the north, she sug's^-csted to Ramsay the propriety of sending some one of peculiar trust to make inquiries. By a little art she easily managed that the young chieftain should pro- pose Bothweil to W^allace ; and on the very night that her machinations had prevailed to dispatch him on this embassy, impatient, yet doubting and agitated she went to declare and throw herself on the bosom of the man for whom she thus sunk herself in shame and falsehood. Wallace, though he heard the denunciation with Avhich she left his presence, did not conceive that it was more than the evanescent rage of disappointed passion; and anticipating persecutions rather from her love than her revenge, he was relieved and not alarmed by the in- THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 269 telUgence that the knight of the green plume had real- ly taken his departure. More delicate of Lady Mar's honour than she was of her own, when he met Edwin at the works he silently acquiesced in his belief, that their late companion was gone with dispatches to the Regent who was now removed to Stirling. After frequent desperate sallies from the garrison, in which the Southrons were always beaten back with great loss, the lines of circumvallation were at la^t iin- nished and Wallace hourly anticipated the surrender of the enemy. Reduced for want of provisions, anc. seeing all hope of succours cut off by the seizure of the fleet, the inhabitants, detesting their nev/ rulers, rose in strong bodies, and lying in wait for the soldiers oi thp garrison, m.urdered them secretly and in great num- bers ; and by the punishments which the governor thought proper to inflict on the guilty and guiltless (as he could not discover v/ho were actually the assassins. ' the distress of the town was augmented to a most hor- rible degree. Such a state of things could not be long maintained; and the Southron commander perceiving the peril of his troops, and foreseeing that should he continue in the fortress they must all assuredly perish either by the insurrection -yithin or the enemy from^ with- out, he determined no longer to av/ait the appearance, of a relief which might neverarrive ; and to stop the in ■ ternal confusion, he sent a flag of truce to Wallace ac - cepting and signing his offered terms of capitulafion. By this deed he^engaged to open the gates to him at, 5un-set, but begged the interval between noon and that hour, th^t he might settle the animosities between his men and the people, before he should surrender his brave followers entirely into the hands of the Scots. Having dispatched his assent to this request of the governor's, Wallace retired to his own tent.— -That he had effected his purpose without the carnage whicli must have ensued had he again stormed the place, grat- ified his humanity ; and congratulating himself on sucli a termination of the siege, he turned with more than usual cheerfulness towards a herald who brought him a packet from the north. — The man withdreiv, and z2 • ;o THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 1 Wallace broke the seal ; but what was his astonishment to find it an order for him to immediately repair to Stirling and there answer, before the Regent and the abthanes of Scotland on his allegiance to his country, certain charges brought against him by aa authority too illustrious to set aside without examination. At the close of this citation, they added, " The Scots, of whom Sir William Wallace has so long declared himself the champion, will now be proud to shew their present pow- er in the impartiality with which they will award the sentence of justice." He had hardly had time to read this extraordinary mandate, when Sir Simon Eraser, his se* cond in command, entered and with consternation in Iiis looks put an open letter into his hand. — It ran as follows : " Allegations of treason against the liberties of Scot- land having been preferred against Sir William Wallace, until he clears himself of the charge, you, Sir Simon Eraser, are directed to assume in his stead the com- mand of the forces which form the blockade of Ber- wick ; and you are therefoi'e ordered to see that the ac- cused sets forward to Stirling, under a strong guard, within an hour after you receive this dispatch. Signed, " John Cummin, Earl of Badenoch, and Lord Regent of Scotland." Stirling'- Castle. Wallace returned the letter to Eraser with an undis- turbed countenance ; " I have received a similar order from the Regent," said he ; " and though I cannot guess the source whence these accusations spring I fear not to meet them, and shall require no guard to speed me forward to the scene of my defence. I am ready to go my friend : and happy to resign the brave garrison that has just surrendered, to your honour and amity." Era- ser answered that he should be emulous to follow his example in all things, and to abide by his agreements with the Southron governor. He then, by Wallace's desire retired to prepare the army for the departure of their commander ; and much against his Own will, to call out the escort that was to attend him to Stirling. '< It is right," added Wallace, "that I should pay every respect to t,he tribunal of my country ; and with regard THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 271 to this small ceremonial af a guard I deem it proper to submit to the ordinance of its rulers." When the marshal of the army read to the officers and men the orders of the Regent, that they must obey Sir Simon Eraser instead of Sir William Wallace who was summoned to Stirling on a charge of treason, a wordless consternation seized on one part of the troops and as violent an indignation agitated the other to tumult. The brave Scots who had followed the Chief of Ellerslie from the first hour of his appearing as a patriot in arms, could not brook this aspersion upon their leader's honour ; and had it not been for the ve- hement exhortations of the no less incensed though more moderate Scrymgeour and Ramsay, they would have arisen in instant revolt. However, they would not be withheld from immediately quitting the field and march- f ing directly to Wallace's tent. He was conversing with Edwin when they arrived, and in some measure he had broken the shock to him of so dishonouring a charge on his friend, by his being the first to communicate it. In vain Edwin strove to guess who could be the in- ventor of so dire a falsehood against the truest of Scots, and he awakened that alarm in Wallace for Bruce which could not be excited for himself, by suggesting that perhaps some intimation had been given to the most ambitious of the abthanes respecting the arrival of their rightful prince. " And yet," returned Wal- lace, " I cannot altogether suppose that, for even their desires of self-aggrandizement could not torture my share in Bruce's restoration to his country into any thing like treason ; our friend's rights are too undispu- ted for that : and all I should dread by a premature dis- covery of his being in Scotland, would be secret machi- nations against his life. There are men in this land who might attempt it ; and it is our duty my dear Ed- win, to suffer death upon the rack rather than betray our knowledge of him. But," added he with a smile, "we need not disturb ourselves with such thoughts; for the Regent is in our prince's confidence, and did this accusation relate to him he would not on such a plea have arraigned me as a traitor." Edwin again revolved in his mind the nature of the 272 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS, charge and who the villain could be Vv^ho had made it and at last suddenly recollecting the Knight of the Green Plume, he asked if it were not possible that as that stranger had sedulously kept himself from being- known, he might not be a traitor ? " I must confess to you," continued Edwin, " that this knight, who ever ap- peared to dislike your closest friends, seems to me the most probable instigator of this mischief, and is per- haps the author of the strange failure of communica- tion between you and Bruce ! Accounts have not ar- rived even since Bothwell went, and that is more than natural." Wallace changed colour at this last suggestion, but merely replied, " a few hours will decide your suspi- cion, for I shall lose no time in confronting my enemy/* I go with you," said Edwin," for never while I live v/ill I consent to lose sightof my dearest friend again 1" It was at this moment that the tumultuous noise of the Lanarkers was heard without. The whole band rush- ed into the tent ; and Stephen Ireland, who was fore- most, raising his voice above the rest exclaimed, " They are the traitors, my lord, who would accuse you! It is determined by our corrupted Thanes, that Scotland shall be sacrificed, and you are to be made the first victim. Think they then that we will obey such parricides ? Lead us on, thou only worthy of the name of Regent, and we will hurl these usurpers from their thrones 1" This demand was reiterated by every man present; was echoed by those who surrounded the tent. The Bothweller's and Ramsay's followers had joined the men of Lanark ; and the mutiny against the orders of the Regent became general. Wallace walked out in- to the open field, and mounting his horse, rode forth amongst them. At sight of him the air resounded with their acclamttiious, and they ceased not to pro- claim him their only leader, till taking off his helmet and stretching out his arm to them in token of silence they became profoundly still. " My friends and bro- ther soldiers," cried he, "as you value the honour of William Wallace, for this once yieid to him implicit obedience." "Forever!" shouted the Bothweii-men. THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 273 « We will never obey any other 1" rejoined his faithful Lanarkers, and with an increased uproar they demand- ed to be led to Stirling. His extended hand again stilled the storm, and he resumed : " You shall go with me to Stirling but as my friends only, never as the ene- mies of the Regent of Scotland. I am charged with treason : it is his duty to try me by the laws of my country; it is mine to submit to the inquisition — I fear it not, and I invite you to accompany me ; not to brand me with infamy by passing between my now darkened honour and the light of justice; not to avenge an iniquitous sentence passed on a guiltless man ; but to my acquittal ; and in that, my triumph over them who .through my breast strike at a greater than I." At this mild persuasive every upraised sword drop- ped before him, in token of obedience; and Wallace turn- ing his horse into the path which led towards Stirling, his men, with a silent determination to share the fate of their master, fell into regular marching order and fol- lowed him. Edwin, confounded at the present situa- tion of his ungratefully-suspected friend, rode by his side as much wondering at the unaffected composure with v/hich he sustained such a weight of insult, as at the Regent who could be so unjust to tried virtue as to lay it upon him. At the west of the camp the detachment appointed to guard Wallace to Stirling came up with him. — It was with difficulty that Eraser could find an officer who would command it ; and he who did at last consent, ap- peared before his prisoner with down-cast eyes, seem- ing rather the culprit than the guard. Wallace ob- serving his confusion, said a few gracious words to him ; and the officer more overcome by this than he could have been with his reproaches, burst into tears and retired into the rear of his men. Wallace entered on the carse of Stirling, that scene of his many victories, and beheld its northern horizon white with tents. — A few miles beyond the Carron an armed troop, headed by young Lord Fife the son of him who fell at Falkirk, and the heralds of the Regent, met him. — Officers appointed for the purpose had apprized cd the abthanes of Wallace having left Berwick } and 274 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 1 knowing by the same means, all his movements, thib cavalcade was ready to hold his followers in awe and to conduct him without opposition to Stirling-. In case it should be insufficient to quail the spirit of the brave Lanarkers, or to intimidate him who had never yet been made to fear by mortal man, the Regent having summoned all the vassals of the various seigniories of Cummin, had planted them in battle array before the walls of Stirling. But whether they were friends or foes, was equally indifferent to Wallace, for secure in his own integrity, he went as confidently to this trial as to a triumph. In either case he should demonstrate his fidelity to Scotland ; aiid though inwardly marvel- ling at such a panoply of war being called out to in- duce him to comply with so simple an act of obedience to the laws, he met the heralds of the Regent with as much ease as if they had been coming to congratulate him on the capitulation, the ratification of which he brought in his hand. Ey his order his faithful followers, who took a pride in obeying with the most scrupulous strictness the in- junctions of their now deposed commander, encamped under Sir Alexander Scrymgeour and Ramsay near Ballochgeich, to the north-west of the castle. It was then night. In the morning at an early hour Wallace, attended by Edwin, was summoned before the council in the citadel. On his re-entrance into that room which he had left the dictator of th^e kingdom, when every knee bent and every head bowed to his supreme mandate, he found not one who even greeted his appearance with the commonest ceremony of courtesy. Badenoch the Regent sat upon the throne, pale, and with evident symptoms of being yet an invalid. The Lords Athol and Buchan, and the numerous chiefs of the clans of Cummin, were seated on his right : on his left were arranged the Earls of Fyfe and Lorn, Lord Soulis, and every Scottish baron of power who had at any time shewn himself hostile to Wallace : others, who were of easy faith to a tale of mal'ce, sat with them ; and the rest of the assembly was filled up with men of bet- ter families than personal fame, and whose names THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 2^5 swelled a catalogue withcut adding any true impor- tance to the side on which they apf^eared. A few, and those a very few, who respected Wallace, were pre- sent, and they, not because they were sent for, (great care having been taken not to summon his friends) but in consequence of a rumour of the charge having reached them ; and these were the lords Lennox and Loch-awe with Kirkpatrick and two or tl?ree chieftains from the western Highlands. None of them had ar- rived till within a few minutes of the council being opened, and Wallace was entering at one door as they appeared at the other. At sight of him a low whisper buzzed through the hall, and a marshal took the plumed bonnet from his hand, which, out of respect to the nobility of Scotland, he had raised from his head at his entrance. The man then preceding him to a spot directly in front of the throne, said, in a voice which declared the reluctance with which he uttered the words, " Sir William Wal- lace, being charged with treason, by an ordinance of Fergus the first you must stand uncovered before the representative of the majesty of Scotland until that loyalty is proved which will again restore you to a seat amongst her faithful barons." Wallace, with the same equanimity as that with which he would have mounted the regal chair, bowed his head to the marshal in token of acquiescence. But Edwin, whose indignation was re-awakened at this exclusion of his friend from the privilege of his birth, said some- thing so warm to the marshal that Wallace in a low voice was obliged to check his vehemence by a decla- ration that it was his determination, (however obsolete the custom and revived in his case only) to submit him- self in every respect to whatever was exacted of him by the laws of his country. On Loch-awe and Lennox observing him stand thus before the bonneted arid seated chiefs, (a stretch of magisterial prerogative which had not been exercised for many a century by any but a king) they took off their caps, and bowing to Wallace, refused to occupy their places on the benches while the defender of Scotland stood. Kirkpatrick drew eagerly towards 276 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. him and throwing down his casque and sword at his feet, cried in a loud voice, " lie there till the only true man in all this land commands me to take ye up in his defence. He alone had courage to look the Southrons in the face and to drive their king over the borders, while his present accusers skulked in their chains 1" Wallace regarded this ebullition from the heart of the honest veteran with a look that was eloquent to all. He would have animatedly praised such an instance of fear- less gratitude expressed to another, and when it was directed to himself, his ingenuous soul shewed what he felt in every feature of his beaming countenance. " Is it thus, presumptuous knight of Ellerslie ?'* cried Soulis, " that by your looks you dare to encour- age contumely to the Lord Regent and his peers 1" Wallace did not deign him an answer, but turning calmly towards the throne, " Representative of my king !'* said he, " in duty to the power whose author- ity you wear, I have obeyed your summons; and I here await the appearance of the accuser who has had the hardihood to brand the name of William Wallace with disloyalty to prince or people." The Regent was embarrassed. He did not suffer his eyes to meet those of Wallace, but looked from side to side in manifest confusion during this address ; and when it ended, without a reply to the chief, he turned to Lord Athol and called on him to open the charge. Athol required not a second summons : he rose imme- diately, and in a bold and positive manner accused Wallace of having been won over by Philip of France to sell those rights of supremacy to him which, with a feigned patriotism, his sword had wrested from the grasp of England. For this treachery Philip was to endow him with the sovereignty of Scotland; and as a pledge of the compact, he had invested him with the principality of Gascony in France. " This is the ground -work of his treason," continued Athol, " but the catastrophe is yet to be cemented by our blood — I have seen a list in his own hand writing, in which are the names of those chiefs whose lives are to pave his way to the throne." At this point of the charge, Edwin, wrought up be- THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 2rr a^'ond .longer forbearance, sprang forward, but Wallace perceiving the intent of his movem^'at caught him by the arm, and by a look reminded him of his recently repeated engagement to keep silent. " Produce the list," cried Eord Lennox, " no evi- dence that does not bring proofs to our eyes, ought to have any weight with us against the man who has bled in every vein for Scotland." " It shall be brought to your eyes," returned Alhol ; ^^ that, and other damning- proofs, shall convince this too credulous country of its long abused confidence." *' I see them now 1" cried Kirkpatrick, who had frowningly listened to AthoU " the abusers of my country's coniidencc betray them- selves at this moment by their eagerness to impeach her friends ; and I pray heaven that before they mislead others into so black a conspiracy, the lie in their throats may choke its inventors !" " We all know," cried Athol, turning on Kirkpatrick, " te whom you belong. — You were bought with the horrid grant to mangle the body of the slain Cressingham; a deed which has brought a stigma on the Scottish name never to be eras- ed but by the immolation of its perpetrators. For this savage triumph did you sellyourself to William Wallace : and a bloody^ champion would you always prove of a fiiost secretly murderous master !" " Hear you this, and bear it ?" cried Kirkpatrick, and Edwin in one breath and grasping their daggers ; Edwin's the next moment flashed in his hand. " Seize them !" cried Athol, " my life is threatened by his myrmidons/' — Two marshals instantly approached to put the order in execution ; but Wallace, who had hitherto stood in silent dignity allowing his calumnia- tor to disgorge all his venom before he would conde- scend to point out to them who never ought to have sus- j pected him where the poison lay, now turned to the men, and with that tone of justice which had ever com- i manded from his lips, he bade them forbear: — " Touch these knights at your peril, marshals 1" said he, " No man in this chamber is above the laws ; and they prO" tect every Scot who resents unjust aspersions qpon his own character, or irrelevant and prejudicing attacks on that of an arraigned friend. It is before the majesty of VOL. II, A A. 278 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. the law that I now stand ; but were injury to usurp its place, not all the lords in Scotland should detain me a moment in a scene so unworthy of my country." The marshals retreated ; for they had been accustomed to regard with implicit deference the opinion of Sir Wil- liam Wallace on the laws ; and though he now stood in the light of their violater, yet memory bore testimony tlAithe had always read them aright and to this hour had ever appeared to make them the guide of his ac- tions. Athol saw that none in the assembly had courage to enforce this act of his violence, and blazing with fury he poured his whole wrath upon Wallace j — " Imperi- ous, arrogant traitor !" cried he, " This presumption only deepens our impression of your guilt 1 — Demean yourself with more reverence to this august court, or expect to be sentenced on the proof which such inso- lence amply gives ; we require no other to proclaim your domineering spirit, and to at once condemn you as the premeditated tyrant of our land." — " Lord Athol," replied Wallace, " what is just, I would say in the face of all the courts in Christendom. It is not in the power of man to make me silent when I see the laws of my country outraged and my countrymen oppressed. Though I may submit my own cheek to the blow, I will not permit their 's to share the stroke. I have an- swered you, earl, to this point ; and I am ready to hear you to the end." Athol resumed. — "I am not your only accuser, proudly-confident man ; you shall see one whose truth cannot be doubted, and whose first glance will bow that haughty spirit and cover that bold front with the livery of shame ! My Lord," cried he, turning to ::he Regent, "I shall bring a most illustrious witness before you ^ one who will prove on oath that it was the intention of this arch-hypocrite, this angler for v,omen's hearts, this perverter of men's understandings, before another moon to bury deep in blood the very people whom he now insidi- ously affects to protect^ But to open your and the na- tion's eyes at once ; to overwhelm him with his fate j I now call forth the evidence." The m^arshals opened a door in the side of the h^l THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 279 and led a lady forward habited in regal splendour and covered from head to foot wit>. a veil of so transparent a texture, that her costly apparel and majestic contour were distinctly seen. She was conducted to a chair that was elevated on a tapestried platform at a few paces from where Wallace stood. On her being seated the Regent rose .and in a tremulous voice addressed her. — ' *' Joanna, Countess of Strathearn and Mar, and Prin- cess of the Orkneys, we adjure thee by thy princely dig- nity, and in the name of the King of Kings, to bear a just witness to the truth or falsehood of the charges of treason and conspiracy now brought against Sir Wil- liam Wallace." The name of his accuser made Wallace start: and the sight of her unblushhig face, for she threw aside her veil the moment she was addressed, overspread his cheek with a tinge of that shame for her which she was now too hardened in determined crime to feel her- self. Edwin gazed at her in speechless horror, while vhe, casting a glance on Wallace in which the full pur- pose of her soul was declared, turned with a more sof- tened though majestic air to the Regent and spoke. — " My lord !" said she, ^'■you see before you a woman who never knew what it was to feel a self-reproachful pang till an evil hour brought her to receive an obliga- tion from that insidious, treacherous man. But, as my first passion has ever been the love of my country, I will prove it to this good assembly by making before them, the confession of what was once my heart's weakness : and by that candour I trust they will fully honour the rest of my narrative." A clamour of approbation resounded through the hall. Lennox and Eoch-awe looked on each other with amazement. Kirkpatrick, recollecting the scenes at Dumbarton, exclaimed — "Jezabel!" — but the ejacula- tion was lost in the general burst of applause; and the Countess, after having cast down her eyes with affect- ed sensibility, again looked up and resumad, " I am not to tell you, my lord, that Sir William Wal- lace released the late Earl of Mar and myself from South- ron captivity at Dumbarton and in this citadel. Our :280 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. deliverer was what you see him; fraught with attra^; tions which he too successfully directed against the peace of a young woman, married to a man of paternal years. While to all the rest of the world he seemed to consecrate himself to the memory of his murdered ivife, to me alone he unveiled his impassioned heart. [ revered my nuptuul vow too sincerely to listen to him with the complacency he v.ished : but, I blush to own, that his tears, his agonies of love, his youthful graces, and the virtues I believed he possessed, (for well he knows to assume !) co-operating with my ardent grati- tude, wrought such a change in my breast that I became wretched: no guilty wish was there; but afi admira- tion of him, a pity which undermined my health, and left me miserable! I forbade him to approach me. I tried to wrest him from my memory ; and nearly had succeeded, when I was informed by my late husband's nephew, the youth who now stands beside Sir William Wallace, that he -was returned under an assumed name from France. Then I feared that all my inward struggles were to re-commence. I had once conquered myself: for, abhorring the estrangement of my thoughts from •my wedded lord during his life, on his death I had, in penance for my involuntary crime, refused Sir William Wallace my hand. His re-appeurance filled me v/ith tumults which only they who would sacrifice all they prize to a sense of duty can know. Edwin Ruthven left me at Hunting-tower. That very evening, as I was walking alone in the garden, I was surprised by the sudden approach t)f an armed man. He threw a scarf over my head to prevent my screams, but I faint- ed with terror. He tlicn took me from the garden by the way he had entered, and placing me on a horse be- fore him, galloped with me whitlier I know not I but on my recovery I found myself in a chamber with an old woman standing beside me, and the same warrior, who was dressed in green armour ^ith his visor so closed that I could not see his face. On my expressing alarm at my situation he addressed me in French, tell- ing me that he had provided a man to carry an excuse to Hunting-tower which would prtvent all pursuit; ^nd then he put a letter into my hand which he said he THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 281 brought from Sir William Wallace. Anxious to know what he intended by this act; and believing that a man who had sworn to me such devoted love could not seri- ously premeditate further outrage I broke the seal, and as nearly as I can recollect read to this effect : " That his passion was so imperious that he was de- termined to make me his even in spite of the sublime scnUments of female purity which, while they tortured him, rendered me dearer in his eyes. He told me that as he had often read in my downcast blushes the sympathy which my too severe virtue made me conceal, — he would now wrest me from my cheerless widowhood; and having nothing in reality to reproach myself with^ <:ompcl me to be happy. His friend, the only confident of his love, had brought me to a spot whence I could not fly: there I should remain till he could leave the army for a few days, and, (he throwing himself on my compassion and tenderness,) receive him as the most faithful of lovers, the fondest of husbands. " This letter," continued the Countess, " was fol- lowed by many others, and, suffice it to say, that the la- tent affection in my heart and his subduing love, were too powerful advocates in his cause. How his letters were brought I know not, but they were duly brought to me by the old woman, who remained firm against answering me any questions. She likewise carried away my perhaps too fond replies. At last the Knight of the Green Plume re-appeared." " Prodigious vil- lain 1" broke from the lips of Edwin. The Countess turned her eye on him for a moment, aad then resum- ed : " He was the warrior who had borne me from Hunt- ting-tower, and from tliat hour until the period I now speak of, 1 had never seen him. He put another pack- et into my hand, desiring me to peruse it with atten- tion and return Sir William Wallace a verbal answer by him. Yes, was all he required. I retired to open it, and what was my horror when I read a perfect de- velopenient of the treasons for which he was now brought to an account I — By some mistake of my cha- racter he had conceived me to be ambitious, and knowing himself master of my heart, he fcxhcied him- self lord of my conscience also. He wrote^ that untif A A 2 282 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. he saw me he had no other end in his exertions for Scotland than her rescue from a foreign yoke ; but^ added he, from the moment in which I Jirst be- held my adored Joanna^ I aspired to place a cronun on her brows I He then told me that he did not deem the time of its presentation to him on the carse of Stir- ling a safe period for its acceptance, neither was he tempted to run the risk of maintaining an unsteady throne when I was not free to enjoy it; but since the death of Lord Mar every wish, every hope was re- awakened, afid he had determined to become a king. — Philip of France had made secret articles with him to this end. He was to hold Scotland of him. — And to jUiake the surrender of his country's liberties sure to Philip, and the sceptre to himself and his posterity, he attempted to persuade me that there would be no crime in destroying the chiefs whose names he enrolled in this list. The pope, he added, would absolve me for a transgression dictated by love, and on our bridal day 1>€ proposed that the deed should be done, — He would in- vite all these lords to a feast, and poison or the dagger should soon lay them at his feet. " So impious a proposal immediately restored me to myself. My love at once turned to the most decided abhorrence ; and hastening to the Knight of the Green Plume, I told him to carry nVy resolution to his master, that I would never see him more till I should appear as hie accuser before the tribunal of his country. The knight tried to dissuade me from my purpose, but in vain : and becoming alarmed at my threats of the pun- ishment that would await hijnself as the agent of such a treason, a sudden remorse seiz:,d him and he confess- ed to me that the scene of his first appearance at Linlithgow was devised by Wallace who, unknown to all others, had brought him over from France as an assistant in schemes not to be confided to Scotland's friends. If I would guarantee his life, he offered to take me from the place where I was then confined and convey me safe to Stirling. All he asked was, that I would leave every letter behind me, and suffer my eyes to be blindfolded. — This I consented to, but the list I had undesignedly put in mj; bosQm.«~MY head was a^air THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 283 wrapped in a thick veil, and we set out. It was very- dark, and we travelled long and swiftly till we come to a wood. There was no moon nor stars to point out any habitation. — But I was fatigued ; my conductor persuaded me, and I dismounted to take rest. I slept beneath the trees. In the morning when I awoke, I in vain looked round for the knight and called him ; he was gone, and I saw him no more. I then made the best of my way to Stirling to warn my country of its danger, and to unmask to the world the direst hypo- crite that ever prostituted the name of virtue." The Countess ceased ; and a hundred voices broke out at once, pouring invectives on the murderous ambi- tion of Sir William Wallace, and invoking the Regent to pass some signal condemnation on so monstrous a crime. In vain Kirkpatrick thundered forth all that was in his indignant soul ; he was unheard in the general tumult : but going up to the Countess, he accused her to her face of ingratitude and falsehood and charged her. with a design, from some really treasonable motive, to destroy the only sure hope of her country. '' And will you not speak ?" cried Edwin, in agony of spirit clasping Wallace's arm, " will you not speak, before these ungrateful men shall dare to brand your ever honoured name with infamy ? Make yourself be heard, my noblest friend ! and confute that wicked woman, who too surely has proved what I suspected, that this knight came to be a traitor." " I will speak my Edwin," returned Wallace, " at the proper mo- ment, bnt not in this tumult of my enemies. — Rely on it that your friend will submit to no unjust decree." " Where is this Knight of the Green Plume ?" cried Lennox, who was almost startled in his opinion of Wal- lace by the consistency of the Countess's narrative ; »' No mark of dishonour shall be passed on Sir William Wallace without the strictest scrutiny. Let the mys- terious stranger be found and confronted with Lady Strathearn." Notwithstanding the earl's insisting ou impartial justice she perceived the doubt in his counte- nance, and eager to maintain her advantage, she re- plied — " The knight I fear has fled beyond our search : "JUt, tha.t I niay not w&nt a witness to corroborate the 284 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. love I once felt for this arch-hypoorite, and conse- quently the sacrifice I must have made to loyalty in this unveiling him to the world, I call upon you, Lord Len- nox, to say whether you did not observe* at Dumbarton Castle the state 6f my too grateful heart 1" Lennox, who well remembered her conduct in the citadel of that fortress, hesitated to answer, aware that his reply would substantiate a guilt which he now feared was but too strongly made manifest. Every ear hung on his answer. Wallace saw what was passing in his mind, and determined to allow all men to shew what was in their hearts towards him and justice, before he would interrupt them with his defence he looked to- wards the carl and said, " Do not hesitate, my lord, speak all that you know or think of me. Could the deeds of my life be written on yon blue vault," added he, pointing to the heavens, " and my breast be laid, open for men to scan, I should be content : for then I should be known to Scotland as I am to my Creator, and the evidence which now makes even friendship doubt^ would me&t the reception due to calumny." Lord Lennox felt the last remark, and filled with re- morse for having for a moment credited any thing against the frank spirit which gave him this permission, he replied, " To Lady Strathcarn's question I must an- swer, that at Dumbarton I did perceive her preference of Sir William Wallace, but I never saw .ny thing in him to warrant the idea that it was reciprocal. And yet, were it even so, that bears nothing to the point of the Countess's accusation ; and notwithstanding her princely rank and the deference all would pay to the widow of Lord Mar, we cannot as true Scots relinquish our faith in a man who has so eminently served his country, to any single witness." " No r* cried Locl>awe, " If the Knight of the Green Plume be above ground, he shall be brought before this tribunal. He alone can be the traitor, and must have deceived the Countess by this device against Sir William Wallace." " No, no T' interrupted she, " i read the whole in his own hand-writing ; and this list of the barons condemned by him to die, will fully evince his guilt : even your name, too generous earl^ THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 285 is in the horrid catalogue." x\s she spoke she rose eagerly to hand him the scroll. " Let me now s^peak. or stab me to the heart," hastily whispered Edwin to his friend. Wallace did not with- hold him, for he guessed what would be the remark of his ardent soul. " Hear that woman 1" cried the vehe- ment youth to the Regent, " and say whether she now speaks the language of one who had ever loved the virtues of Sir William Wallace ? Were she innocent of malice towards the deliverer of Scotland, would she not have rejoiced in Lord Loch-awe's supposition that the Green Knight was the traitor ? — And if that scroll she has now given into the hand of his lordship be too nicely forged for her to detect its not being indeed the hand-writing of the noblest of men, would she not have shewn some sorrow, at least, at being obliged to maintain the guilt of one she professes once to have^ loved ? — But here her malice has over-stepped her art ; and after having promoted the success of her tale by so cunningly mingling truths of no moment with false- hoods of capital import that in acknowledging the one we seem to grant the other, she falls into her own snare, and even a boy, as you see, can discern that however vile the Green Knight may be, she shares his wickedness :'* While Edwin spoke Lady Strathearn's countenance underwent a thousand changes : twice she attempted to rise and interrupt him, but Sir Roger Kirkpatrick hav- ing fixed his eye& on her with a menacing determina- tion to prevent her, she found herself obliged to re- main quiescent. Full of a newly excited fear that Wallace had confided to her nephew the last scene in his tent, she started up as he seemed to pause, and with assumed mildness again addressing the Regent, said, that before the words of any follower of Wallace could sink into impartial minds she thought it just to inform the council of the infatuated attachment of Edwin Ruthven to the accused, and she concluded by asserting that she had ample cause for knowing that tlie boy was so bewitched by the commander, who had ilattered his youthful vanity by loading him with the distinctions only due to approved valour in manhood, that he was :^86 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS, ready at any time to sacrifice every consideration oi truth, reason, and duty, to please Sir William Wallace. " That may be, lady," said Lord Loch-awe, inter- rupting her, " but as I know no occasion in which it is possible for Sir William Wallace to falsify the truth, I call upon him, in justice to himself and to his country, to reply to three questions !'* — Wallace bowed to the venerable earl, and he proceeded — " Sir William Wal- lace, are you guilty or not guilty of the charge brought against you of a design to mount the throne of Scot- land by means of the King of France V* Wallace replied, " I never designed to mount the throne of Scotland either by my own means, or by any other man's." Loch-awe proceeded, "Was this scroll, contain- ing the names of certain Scottish chiefs noted down for assassination, written by you, or under your conniv- ance ?" " I ftever saw the scroll, nor heard of the scroll, un- til this hour. And harder than deat^h is the pang at my heart when a Scottish chief finds it necessary to ask me such a question regarding any individuals of a peo- ple, to save even the least of whom, he has ever seen me ready to risk my life !" "Another question," replied Loch-awe, and then, "bravest of men. if your country acquits you not in thought and deed, Campbell of Loch-awe sits no more amongst its judges ! — What is your knowledge of the Knight of the Green Plume, that you should intrust him, in preference to any Scottish friend, with your wishes respecting the Countess of Strathearn ?" Wallace's answer was brief, " I never had any wish- es respecting the v/ife or widow of my friend the Earl of Mar thatldidnot impart to every chieftain in the camp, and those wishes went no further than for her safety. As to love, that is a passion I shall know no more ; and Lady Strathearn can alone say what is the end she aims at by attributing feelings to me, v,rith regard to her, which I never conceived and words which I never uttered. Like this passion, with which she says she inspired me," added he, turning his eyes steadily on her face, " was the Knight of the Green THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 287 Plume ! You are all acquainted with the manner of his introduction to me at Linlithgow ; you all know, with the account that he then gave of himself, as much of him as I did, till on the night that he left me at Ber- wick — and then I found him, like this story of Lady Strathearn, all a fable." " Name him, on your knighthood i" exclaimed Bu- cban, " for yet he shall be brought to support the vera- city of my illustrious kinswoman and fully to unmask I to the world his insidious accomplice 1" ** Your kinswoman. Earl Buchan," replied Wallace, can best answer you that question." Lord Athol approached the Regent with an inflamed countenance and whispering something in his ear, this unworthy representative of the generous Bruce rose immediately from his seat and said, " Sir William Wallace you have replied to the questions of Lord Loch-awe, but where are your witnesses to prove that what you have spoken is the truth ?" Wallace for a moment was struck with surprise at the tone and words of this address from a man who, whatever might be demanded of him in the fulfilment of his office, he h^d iDelieved to be not only his friend but, by the confidence reposed in him both by Bruce and himself, fully aware of the impossibility of these allegations being true. But W^allace now saw with an eye that pierced through the souls of the whole as- sembly, and with collected firmneijs he replied, — " My witnesses are in the bosom of every Scotsman." " I cannot find them in mine," interrupted Athol. — ?' Nor in mine 1" was echoed from various parts of the hall. " Invalidate the fiicts brought against you by some- thing more than this rhetorical appeal," added the Re- gent, " else, I fear, the sentence of the law must be passed on such a tacit acknowledgment of guilt." " Acknov/ledgment of guilt 1" cried Wallace,. with a flush of godlike indignation suffusing his noble brow, " If any one of the chieftains who have just spoken, knew the beat of an honest heart, they would not have declared that they heard no voice proclaim the integ- rity of William \Vallace. Let them then recollect the 288 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. carse of Stirling, where I refused the crown whicb hvv accuser alleges I would yet obtain by blood. Let theni remember the banks of the Clyde, where I rejected the Scottish throne offered me by Edward ! Let these facts bear witness for me, and if they be insufficient, look on Scotland now for the third time rescued by my arm from the grasp of an usurper and made entirely free ! — That scroll locks the door of the kingdom upon her enemies.*' As he spoke he threw the capitulation of Berwick upon the table. It seemed to strike a pause into the minds of the lords ; they gazed with pal- lid countenances and without a word on the parchment where it lay, and he proceeded — " If my actions that you know, do not convince you of my integrity, then believe the unsupported evidence of words, the tale of a woman whose mystery, were it not for the memory of the honourable man whose name she once bore, I would publicly unravel : — Believe her ; and leave Wallace nought of his country to remember, but that he has served it, and that it is unjust \'^ " Noblest of Scots ?" cried Loch-awe, coming to- wards him, " did your accuser come in the shape of an angel of light, still v/e should believe your life in pre- ference to her testimony, for God himself speaks on your side : iV/z/ servants^ he declares, ye shall knoiv by their fruits ! And has not yours been peace to Scotland, and good will to all men 1" " They are the labyrinthian folds of his hypocrisy !" cried Athol, alarmed at the awe-struck looks of most of the assembly. " They are the bates by which he cheats fools !" re-echoed Sou- iis. *^ They are snares v/hich shall catch us no more J'^ was now the general exclamation ; and in proportion to the transitory respect which had made them bow though but for a moment to virtue, — they now vociferated their contempt both of Wallace and this his last achiev- znent. Kirkpatrick inflamed with rage, first at the manifest determination to misjudge his commander, and then at the contumely with which their envy af- fected to -treat him, threw off all restraint and with the bitterness of his reproaches still more incensed the jealousy oi the nobles and augmented the tumult. i.enno3^yainly attempted to mftke himself heard, drew THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 2§9 tovvardb Wallace, hophit^by that movement, at least to shew on whose side he thought justice lay. At this moment, while the uproar raged with redoubled cla- mour demanding that sentence should instantly be pas- sed upon the traitor, the door burst open and Bothwell., covered with dust and followed by a throng of armed knights, rushed into the centre of the hall. " Who is it you arraign ?" cried the young chief, looking indignantly around him; " Is it notyour deliver- er you would destroy. The Romans could not pass sen- tence on the guilty Manilius in sight of the capital he had preserved ; but you, worse than heathens, bring your benefactor to the scene of his victories, and there condemn him for serving you too well ! Has he not plucked you this third time out of the furnace that would have consumed you ? And yet in this hour you -would sacrifice him to the disappointed passions of a a woman 1 Falsest of thy sex 1" cried he, turning to the dismayed Countess, who, before seated in antici- pated triumph, now shrunk before the penetrating eyes of Andrew IVlurray : — " Do 1 not know thee ? Have I not read thine unfeminine, thy vindictive heart ? You would destroy the man you could not seduce ! Wal- lace !" cried he, " speak ; w ould not this woman have persuaded thee to disgrace the name of Mar? and whep my uncle died, did she not urge you to intrigue for that crown wdiich she knew you had so loyally declined ?" " My errand here," answered Wallace, " is to defend <• myself not to accuse others. I have shewn that I am innocent, and my judges will not look on the pi'oofs. They obey not the laws in their judgment, and what- ever may be the decree, I shall not acknowledge its au- thority." As he spoke he turned away and v/alked with a firm step out of the hall. His disappearance gave the signal for a tumult more , threatening to the welfare of the state than if the ar= : mies of Edward had been in the midst of them. It ; was brother against brother, and friend against friend. The Lords Lennox and Loch-awe were vehement against the unfairness with which Sir William Wallace : had been treated. Kirkpatrick declared that no argu- ments could be used with men so devoid of reason; VOL. II. RE 290 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. and words of reproach and reviling passing beivyeea him and Athol and others, swords were at last drawn. And while Bothwell was loudly denouncing the Re-, g^nt for having allowed any examination to be put up- on the ever faithful champion of Scotland, Lady Stra- thearn seeing herself neglected, and fearful that the party of Wallace might at last gain the ascendency,' fainted away and was carried out of the assembly. CHAP. XXVI. X HE Regent, having with difficulty interrupted the fierce attack which the enemies and friends of Wal- lace made on each other, saw with satisfaction (al- though several of the Cummins were maimed, and Lord Athol himself severely wounded by Kirkpatrick) that none were mortally hurt. With horrid menaces the two parties separated, the one to the Regent's apartments, the other to the camp of Wallace. Lord Bothwell found his friend on the platform be- fore his tent, trying to allay the storm which was rag- ing in the bosoms of his followers against the injustice of the Regent and the ingratitude of the Scottish lords. At sight of Lord Bothwell their clamour to be led in- stantly to revenge the indignity offered to their g,ene- ralj redoubled, and Murray, not less incensed, turn- ing to them, said, " My friends, keep quiet for a few hours and then what honour commands we will do '" At this assurance they retired to their quarters, an4 Bothwell entered with Wallace and Edwin into the tent. " Before you utter a word concerning th.o present scenes,'* cried Wallace, " tell me how is the hope of Scotland, the only earthly stiller of these horrid tu- mults r" '' He is ill," replied Bothwell, ^' after regain-j ing, by a valour worthy of his destiny, every fortressj north of the Forth. As his last and greatest achieve- ment, he made himself master of Scone ; but in storminf* its walls he received another wound on his Ive^.d, aiSi th.Miext day w?.s attacked by so virulent a THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 29 i fe'ver that he now lies at Hunting-tower reduced to in- fant weakness. All this you would have known had you received his letters ; but doubtless; villany has been here too, for none of yours have reached his hands." This intelligence of Bruce was a more mor- tal blow to Wallace than all that he had just sustained in his own person. He remained silent, but his mind 'was thronged with thoughts. — Was Scotland to be in- deed lostf Was all that he had suffered and achieved, to have been done in vain ; and should he now be fatud to behold her again made a sacrifice to the jealousy of her contending nobles ? Bothwell continued to speak, and told him that in consequence of their prince's anx- iety to know how the siege of Berv/ick proceeded, (for still no letters arrived from that quarter,) he had set off on his return. At Dumfermling he was informed of the charge made against Wallace, and turning his steps westward, he hastened to give that support to his friend's innocence which the malignity of his enemies might render neqessary. " The moment I heard how you were beset,'' continued Bothv/ell, "I dispatched a man back to J^ord Ruthven to tell him not to alarm Bruce with such tidings, but to bring all the forces v/hich were now useless in Perthshire, to maintain your honour and rights." "No force, my dear Bcthwell, must be used to hold me in a power whicii >viH only Keep alive a spirit of discord in my country. If I dnrc apply the words of my Divine Master, I would say, I came not to bring a s^ivord^ but peace to the fieople cj Scotland 1 Then, if they are weary of me, let me go. Bruce v/ill recover; they will rally round liis standard., and all will be v/ell." " Oh, Wallace I Wallace 1" cried Bothwell, "the scene I have this day witnessed is enough to make a traitor of me. I could forswear my insensible country; I could immolate its ungrateful chieftans on those very lands which your generous ariy?. restored to these worthless men 1" He threw himse::: into a seat and leaned his burning forehead against liis hand. — " Cousin you declare my sentiments," rejoined Edwin ; "my soul can never again associate with these sons of Envy. I cannot recognise a countryman in one of the^n ; and should Sir Vv^illiam Wallace quit a Irad so 292 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. imworthy of his virtues, where he g-oes, I will go ; his asylum shall be my country, and Edwin Ruthven will forget that he ever was a Scot." " Never," cried Wallace turning on him one of those looks which struck * •^onviction into the heart ; " Is man more just than God P Though a thousand of your countrymen offend you by their crimes, yet while their remains one ho- nest Scot, for his sake and his posterity it is your du- ty to be a patriot. A nation is one great family ; and every individual in it is as much bound to promate the general good, as a son or a father is to maintain the wel- fare of his nearest kindred. And if the transgression of one brother be no excuse for the omission of anoth- er, in like manner, the ruin these turbulent lords would- bring upon Scotland, is no excuse for your desertion of its interest. I would not leave the helm of my country did she not thrust me from it ; but, though f ast by her into the waves, would you not blush for your friend, should he wish her aught else than a peace- ful haven." Edwin spoke not, but putting the hand of Wallace to his lips, left the tent. " Oh 1" cried Hothv.'cll, looking after him, " that the breast of wo- man had but half that boy's tenderness ! And yet, all of that dangerous sex are not like this hyena-hearted Lady Strathearn. Tell mc, my friend, did she not, when she disappeared so strEingely from Hunting-tov/- c.r, fly to you ? I now suspect, froui certain remem- lirances, that she and the Green Knight are one and the same person. Acknowledge it, and I will unveil Jier at once to the court she has deceived." " She has deceived no one," replied Wallace, " before she spoke I he members of the court were determined to braiid me with guilt; and her chorge merely supplied the place of others, which, wanting that, they would have devised against me. Whatever she may be, my dear Both well, for the §ake of him whose name she once wore, let us not expose her to open shame. Her love or her hatred are alike indifferent to m.e now ; for to ' neither of them do I owe that innate malice of my | countrymen v.'hich has only made her calumny the oc- | casion of manifesting their resolution to make me in- famous. But ^hat, my friend, is beyond their com* THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 293 pass.—- 1 have done my duty to Scotland; and that con- viction must live in every honest heart; aye, and ^vith the dishonest too : for did they not fear my integrity they would not have thought it necessary to deprit'c me of my pf)v/er. May heaven shield Bruce, for I dread that Badenoch's next shaft may be at him 1" " No," cried Bothwell, " all is levelled at his best friend. In a low voice I accused the Regent of disloy- alty to his prince in permitting this outrage on you, and his basely envious answer was: Wallace's removal is Bruce^s security : Who ivill acknoivledge him nvhen they know that, this man is his dictator ?" Wallace sighed at this reply ; but it confirmed him in his reso- lution, and he told Bothwell that he saw no alterna- tive, if he wished to still the agitations of his country and to preserve its prince from premature discovery, than for him indeed to remove the subject of all those contentions from their sight. " Attempt it not 1" ex- claimed Bothwell, " propose but a step towards that end, and you will determine me to avenge my country at the peril of my own life on all that accursed assem- bly who have menaced yours 1"' In short, the young earl's denunciations were so vehement and in earnest against the lords in Stirling that Wallace thought it dangerous to exasperate him farther, and therefore consented to remam in his camp tiii the arrival of, Ruthven should bi/ing him the advantage of his coun- sel. The issue shewed that Bothwell was not mistaken^ The majority of the Scottish nobles envied Wallace his glory, and hated him for those virtues which drew the eyes of the people to compare him with their vicious courses. The Regent, hoping to become the first in Bruce's favour, was not less urgent to ruin the man v/ho was at present the highest in that prince's esteem. He had therefore entered warmly into the project of Lady Strathearn ; but when, during a secret conference be- tween them previous to her open charge of Wallace^ bhe named Sir Thomas- de Longueville as one of his fo- reign emissaries. Cummin replied, " If you would have your accusation succeed, do not nam.e that knight at alL He is my friend. He is now ill near Pci'J). and mi:..:- FB 2 294 TPIE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. know nothing of this affair till it is over. Should he live, he will nobly thank you for your forbearance ; should he die, I will repay you as becomes your near- est kinsman.*' All were thus united in the effort to hurl Wallace from his station in the state. — -And that, they believed done, they quarrelled amongst them- selves in deciding who was to fill the great military office which his prowess had rendered a post rather of honour than of danger. In the midst of these feuds Sir Simon Fraser ap- peared suddenly in the council-hall. His counte- nance proclaimed that he brought bad tidings. Len- nox and Loch-awe (who duly attended in hopes of bringing over some of the more pliable chiefs to em- brace the cause of Wallace,) listened with something like exultation to his disastrous information. As soon a& the English governor had gained intelligence of the removal of Wallace from the command at Berwick, and of the consequent consternation of the troops, instead of surrendering at sun-set as was expected, he sallied out at the head of the whole garrison, and taking the Scottish troops by surprise, gave them a total defeat. Every out-post around the town was re-taken by the Southrons ; the army of Fraser was cut to pieces, or put to flight ; and himself now arrived in Stirling, smarting with many a wound, but more under his dis- honour, to shew to the Regent of Scotland the evil of having superseded the only man whom the enemy ieared. The council stood in silence staring on eacli other : and to add to their dismay, Fraser had hardly ended his narration, before a messenger from Teviot- dale arrived in breathless haste to inform the Regent that King Edward was himself within a few miles of the Cheviots, and that he must even now have poured his thousands over those hills upon the plains beneath. While all was indecision, tumult, and alarm, in the ci- tadel, Lenox hastened towards Wallace's camp with *he news. Levd Ruthven and the Perthshire chieftains were aL ready there. They had arrived early in the morning ■vith most unpromising tidings of Bruce. The state <}: ivs v/ound had induced a constant delirium.— -But THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 295 still Wallace clung- to the hope that his country was not doomed to perish ; that its prince's recovery was I only protracted. In the midst of this anxiety Lennox entered, and relating* what he had just heard, turned the whole current of his auditor's ideas. Wallace started from his seat, and again felt that he had yet longer to stay in Scotland. His hand mechanically- caught up his sword which lay upon the tabic, and looking around to these words of Lennox : '' There is not a man in the citadel who does not appear at his wit's end, and incapable of facing this often-beaten foe ; will you, Wallace, again eondescend to save a country that has treated you so ungratefully V " I would die in its trenches 1" cried the chief, with a generous for- giveness of all his injuries suffusing his magnanimous heart. Lord Loch -awe soon after appeared, and corroborat- ing the testimony of Lennox, added, that on the Re- gent sending word to the troops on the south of Stir- ling that in consequence of the treason of Sir William Wallace the supreme command was taken from him; and as they were now called upon to face a new excur- sion of the enemy, they must immediately m.arch un- der the orders of Sir Simon Eraser, they began to mur- mur amongst themselves : and saying that since Wal- lace was found a traitor they knew not who to trust, but that certainly it should not be a beaten general, they slid away from their standards, and when Loch-awe left them, were dispersing oi\ all sides like an already dis- comfited army. For a day or two the paralyzed terrors of the peo- ple and the tumults in the citadel were portentous of immediate ruin. A large detachment from the royal army had entered Scotland by the marine gate of Ber- wick, and, headed by De Warenne, was advancing ra- pidly towards Edinburgh Castle. Not a soldier be- longing to the regency remained on the carse; and the distant chieftains to whom he sent for aid refused it, saying, that the discovery of Wallace's patriotism hav- ing been a delusion, had made them suspect all men ; and. that locking themselves within their own castles, each true Scot would there securely view a struggle in which they could feel no personal interest. 296 'THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. Seeing the danger of the realm, and hearing from the lords Ruthven and Bothwcll that their troops would follow no other leader than Sir William Wallace, the Regent, hopeless of any prompt decision from amongst the confusion of his council, and urged by time-serving Buchan, yielded a tacit assent to the only apparent means of saving his sinking country. He turned ashy^ pale as his silence granted to Lord Loch-awe the ne- cessity of imploring Sir William Wallace aga'-n to stretch out his arm in their behalf. With this embassy the venerable chieftain returned exulting to Balloch- geich ; and the so lately branded Wallace, branded as the intended betrayer of Scotland, was solicited by his very accusers to assume the trust of being their sole defence. " Such is the triumph of virtue T" whispered Edwin, to his friend as he vaulted on his horse. A luminous smile from Wallace acknowledged that he felt the tri- bute, and looking up to heaven ere he placed his helmet on his head, he said, " Thence comes my power, and the satisfaction it brings, whether attended by man's ap- plause or his blame, he cannot take from me. I now, perhaps for the last time, arm this head for Scotland: may the God in whom I trust again crown it with vic- tory, and for ever after bind the brows of our rightful sovereign with peace I" While Wallace pursued his march, the Regent, con- founded at the turn which events had taken, and hardly knowing whether to niitke another essay to collect for- r,es for the support of their former leader, or to follow the refractory councils of his lords and await in inacti- vity the issue of the expected battle, was quite at a stand. He knew not how to act : but a letter from Lady Strath earn decided him. Though partly triumphant in her charges yet the ac- cusations of Bothv/ell had disconcerted her; and the restoration of Wallace to his undisputed authority in the state, seemed to her so probable, that she resolved to take an immediate step which would confirm her in- rhience over the discontented of her country and most likely insure the vengeance she panted to bring upon vVallacc'? head. To this end, on the very evening that THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS/ 29/ Mhe \vas carried swooning from the conncil-hall, she set forward to the Borders ; and easily passing thence to the Englisli camp (then pitched at Alnwick,) was soon admitted to the castle where De Warenne was lodged. She was too well taught in the school of vanity not to have remarked the admiration with which that earl had regarded her while he was a prisoner in Stirling; and hoping that he might not he able to withstand the per- suasions of her charms when united with rank and rich- es, she opened her mission to hini with no less art thaa effect. De Warenne understood from her that Wal- lace, on the strength of a passion he had conceived for her and which she treated with disdain., had repented of his former refusals of the crown of Scotland ; and was now attempting to compass that dignity by the most complicated intrigues, und^r a belief that she would not repeat her rejection of his hand v/hen it could offer her a sceptre. She then related how, at her instigation, the Regent had deposed hirn from his military command; and she ended with saying, that impelled by loyalty to Edward (whom her better reason now recognised as the lawful sovereign of her country,) she had come to ex- hort that monarch immediately to renew his invasions into the kingdom. De Warenne, intoxicated with her beauty and enraptured by a manner which seemed to tell him that a softer sentiment than usual had made her select him as her embassador to the king, greedily drank in all her words ; and ere he allowed the confer- ence to breakup, he had thrown himself at her feet and implored her, by every impassioned argument, to grant him the privilege of presenting her to Edward as his intended bride. De Warenne v/as in the meridian of life; and being fraught with a power at court) beyond all other of his peers, she determined to accept his hand and wield her new influence to the destruction of Wal- lace, should she even be compelled in that act to pre- cipitate her country in his fall. De Warenne drew from her a half-reluctant consent : and v/hile he poured forth the transports of a happy lover, he internally congratu- lated himself on his good fortune. He was not so much' enamoured of the fine person of Lady Strathearn, as to be altogether inseHsible to the advantages which his al^ aas THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. liance wHh her would give to Edward in his Scottbi!; pretensions ; and as it would consequently increase his own importance with that monarch, he lost no time in communicating the circumstance to him. Edward, who suspected something in this sudden attachment of the Countess which, if known, might cool the ardour of his officer for uniting so useful an agent to his cause, highly approved De Wurcnne's conduct in the affair; and to hasten the nuptials, proposed being present at their so- lemnization that very evening. The vows which Lady Strathearn pledged at the altar to De Warenne, were pronounced by her as those by which she swore to com- plete her revenge on Wallace, and by depriving him of life prevent the climax to her misery of seeing him (what she believed he intended) the husband of Helen Mar. The day after she became De Warenne's wife (s) she accompanied him, attended by a retinue, corres- pondent to his rank as Lord Warden of Scotland, by sea to Berwick ; and from that place she dispatched mes- sengers to the Regent and other nobles her kinsmen, fraught with promises which Edward, in the event of success, had solemnly pledged himself to ratify. Her embassador arrrived at Stirling the day succeeding that in which Wallace and his troops left it. The letters he brought were eagerly opened by Badenoch and his chieftains, and they found their contents to this effect. She announced to them her marriage with the Lord Warden, who was then at the head of a mighty force determined on the subjugation of the country ; and therefore besought the Regent and lus council not to raise a hostile arm against him, if they would, not mere- ly escape the indignation of a great king, but ensure his favour. She cast out hints to Badenoch, as if Edw^^^'d meant to rev/ard his acquiescence with the crown of ScotUnd ; and with siiiiilar baits, proportioned to the views c;f all her other kinsmen, she smoothed their an- ger against that m.onarch's former insults,and persuaded ^hem at least to remain inactive during the last struggle of their country Meanwhile, Wallace, taking his course along the banks of the Forth, as the night drew near encamped his little aiDiv at the base of the craiQ:5 east of Edin- THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS, 299 burgh Castle. His march having been long and rapid the men were much fatigued, and now were hardly laid upon their heather beds before they fell asleep. Wallace gained information from his scouts, that the main body of the Southrons had approached v/ithin a few miles oi Dalkeith. Thither he hoped to go next morning; and there, he trusted, strike the conclusive blow for Scot- land by the destruction of a division, which he under- stood comprised the llower of the English army. With these expectations he gladly saw his troops turn to that repose which was to re -brace their strength for the combat; and as the hours of r.ight stole on, while his possessed mind waked for all around, he was well-plea- sed to see his ever-watchful Edwin sink back into a profound sleep. It was his custom, once at kast in the night, to go himself the rounds of his posts to see that all was safe. The air was serene, and he walke-d out on this duty.— He passed from line to line, from station to station, and all was in order. One post alone remained to be visited, and that was placed as a point of observaticm on the craigs near Arthur's seat. As he proceeded along a lonely defile between the rocks which over-hang the ascent of the mountain, he was startled by the indistinct sight of a figure amongst the rolling vapours of the night, seated on a towering cliff directly in the way he was to go. The broad light of the moon breaking from beJiind the clouds shone full upon the spot, and disco- vered a majestic form in grey robes, leaning on a harp, while his face mournfully gazing upward, was rendered venerable by a long white beard that mingled with the floating mist. Wallace paused, and stopping at some distance from this extraordinary apparition, looked on it in silence. The strings of the harp were softly touched; but it was only the sighing of a passing breeze which had agitated them. The vibration ceased, and the next moment the hand of the master struck their chords with so full and melancholy a sound that Wal- lace was for a few minutes riveted to the ground ; and then moving forward with a stilly step, that he might not disturb the nocturnal bard, he gently approached. At sight of him the harp seemed to fall from before the- mo THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS, venerable figure, and clasping his hands, in a voice of mournful solemnity he exclaimed, " Art thou come, doomed of heaven, to hear thy sad Coronach ?'' Wallace started at this salutation. The bard with the same emo- tion continued ; " No choi-al hymns hallow thy bleeding corse ; — wolves howl thy requiem, and eagles scream over thy desolate grave ; fly, chieftain, fly 1" " What, venerable father of the harp," cried Wallace, interrup- ting the awful pause, " thus addresses one whom he must mistake for some other chief ?" " Can the spirit of inspiration mistake its object ?" demanded the bard '^ Can he whose eyes have been opened by the touch of fate, be blind to Sir William Wallace, or to the blood which clogs his mounting footsteps ?" " And who am I to understand that you are ?" replied Wallace. " Who is the saint whose holy charity would anticipate the ob- sequies of a man who yet may be destined to a long pil- grimage ?" " Who I am,*' resumed the bard, " will be shewn to thee when thou hast past yon starry firma- ment. But the galaxy streams with blood — the bugle of death is alone heard, and thy lacerated breast heaves in vain against the hoofs of opposing squadrons. They charge — Scotland falls 1 Look not on me thus, champion of thy country I Sold by thy enemies, betrayed by thy friends ! It was not the seer of St. Anton who gave thee these wounds — that heart's blood was not drawn by mfe —a v/oman's hand in mail — ten thousand armed warri- ors strike deep the mortal steel — he sinks — he ftdls : Red is the blood of Eske ! — Thy vital stream hath dyed it. Fly, bravest of the brave, or perish !" With a shriek ■of horror, and throwing his aged arms extended towards the heavens while bis grey beard mingled in the rising blast, he rushed from the sight of Wallace, and left him in awful solitude. For a few minutes he stood in profound silence. His very soul seemed deprived of the power to answer so ten'ible adenuncicition with even a questioning thought. He had heard the destruction of Scotland declared; and himself sentenced to perish, if he did not escape the general ruin by flying ii-om her side I This terri- ble decree of fate, so di^astcrously corrobarated by the extremity of Bruce aud the diviiiions in the kingdonv- THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 30i had been pronounced by one of those sages oj, his country on whom the spirit of prophecy yet descended with all the horrors of a woe-denouncing trumpet. Could he then doubt its truth ? He did not doubt ; he believed the midnight voice he had heard. But recovering from the first shock of such a doom, and remembering that it still left the choice to himself between dishon- oured life and glorious death, he resolves to shew his respect to the oracle, by manifesting a persevering obedience to the eternal voice which gives all these his agents utterance ; and while he bows to tlie warning, he starts forward to be the last who shall fall from the side of his devoted country. " If devoted," cried he, " then our fates shall be the same. My fall from thee shall be into my grave. Scotland may have struck the breast that has shielded her, yet, Father of Mercies, forgive her blindness ; and grant me still permission, a little longer to oppose my heart between her and this fearfui doom!" (^) CHAP. XXVII. A WED, but not intimidated, by the prophecy of the seer of the craigs, Wallace next day drew up his army in order for the new battle, near a convent of Cistertian monks on the narrow plain of Dalkeith. The two ri- vers Eske flowed on each side of his little phalanx, and formed a temporary barrier between it and the pressing legions of De Warenne. The earl's troops seemed countless. And the Southron lords who led them on, being elated by the representations which the Countess had given them of the disunited state of the Scottish army, and of the consequent dismay which had seized their hitherto all-conquering commander, bore down upon the Scots vv'ith an impetuosity which threatened a destruction without quarter, without even allowing the enemy a moment for resistance. De Warenne, who, deceived by the blandishing falsehoods of his bride, had entirely changed his former high opin^n of his brave opponent j and by her sophistries had brought hif VOL. II. CC 302 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. rwind to adopt stratagems unworthy; of his i^obleness, (so contagious is baseness in too fond a contact with the unprincipled 1) placed himself on an adjoining height ; from that situation, intending to give his orders, and to behold his anticipated victory. " Soldiers !" cried he, as he gave the word of command, " the rebel's hour is come. — The sentence of heaven is gone forth against him. Charge resolutely, and he and his host are yours !" But it was not decreed so: the prophet who had spoken was that of Baal, not of Jehovah. He had been the hireling of Lady Strathcarn, to intimidate the in- vincible adversary af her husband, the determined vic- tim of her revenge. Knowing his customs, and hav- ing a spy on his steps, she easily accomplished this de- vice. Her emissary played his part well ; he saw by the manner of the chieftain that he was believed: and when he rejoined Lady Strathearn, in a firmer tone of prescience he saluted her as the guardian angel of the Southron army, and declared that her wisdom had al- ready delivered the Scottish phalanx and its leader into the hands of her husband. As a victor, then, De Warenne mounted the hill ; as a queen in triumph, the Countess took her station by his side. The sky was obscured : an awful stillness reigned through the air, and the spirits of the mighty dead seem.ed leaning from their clouds, to witness this last struggle of their sons. Fate did indeed hover over the opposing armies : she descended on the head of Wal- lace, and dictated from amidst his waving plumes. She pointed his spear, she wielded his flaming sword, and charged with him in the dreadful shock of battle. De Warenne saw his foremost thousands fall. He heard the shout of the Scots, the cries of his men, and the plains of Stirling rose to his remtmibrance. He hastily ordered the knights around him to bear away his wife from the field; and descending the hill to lead forward himself, he was met and almost overwhelmed by his flying troops : horses without riders, men with- out shield or sword, but all in dismay, rushed past him. He called to them, he waved the royal standard, he urged, he reproached; he rallied, and led them back THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS; 30;: again. The fight re-cominenced Long and bloody was the conflict. De Warenne fought for conquest and* to recover a lost reputation. Wallace contended for his country, and to shew hiiTi self always worthy of her lat- est sigh, before lie should g-o henccy and be no viore seen ! The issue declared for Scotland. But the ground was covered v»ith the slain ; and "Wallace chased a wounded foe with troops which dropped as they pur- sued. At sight of the melancholy state of his victorious and faithful soldiers, he tried to check their ardour, but in vain. " It is for Wallace that we conquer !" cried they, '' and we v.-ili die, or prove him the only captaia in tins ungrateful country.'* Night compelled them to halt ; and under her shades, while they }'et only rested on their arms, Wallace^ satisfied that he had destroyed the power of De Warenne, forbore to press too hard upon its remnant ; and as he leaned on his sword, and stood v/ith Edwin near the watch fire over v/hich that youthful hero kept a guard, he contemplated the terrified Southrons as they fled precipitately, though cautiously, by the foot of the hill towards the Tvv'eed. Wallace now told his friend theliistory of his adventure with the seer of the craigs ; and finding within himself how much the brightness of true religion excludes the glooms of superstition, he added : " The proof of prophecy is its completion I — Hence let the false seer I met last night, warn you, my Edwin, by my example, liov/ you give credit to any prediction that might slacken the sinev/s of duty. God can speak but one language. He is not a man, that he should repent ; r.either a mortal, that he should change his purpose ! — This pretended prophet beguiled me of belief in his denunciation, but not to adopt the conduct his offered alternative would have persuaded me to pursue. I now see that he v/as a traitor in both, and henceforth shall read my fate in the oracles of God alone. Obeying them, my Edwin, we need not fear the curses of our enemy nor his lying sooth-sayers." The splendour of this victory struck to the souls of the council at Stirling. Scotland being once again rescued from the vengeance of her implacable foe, the lords in 504^ THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. the citadel spurned at their preservation, and declared to the Regent that they would rather be under the yoke of the veriest tyrant in the world than be obliged to owe a moment of freedom to the man who (they affected to believe), had conspired against their lives. And they had a weighty reason for this decision. — Though De Warenne was beaten, his wife was a victor. She had made Edward triumphant in the venal hearts of her kinsmen : gold and her persuasions, with pro- mises of future honours from the King of England, made them entirely his. All but the Regent were ready to commit every thing into the hands of Edward : he doubted. — The rising favour of other lords with the court of England induced him to recollect that he might rule as the unrivalled friend of Bruce, should that prince live j or, in case of his death, might he not have it in his power to assume the Scottish tlw'one un- trammelled ? These thoughts made him fluctuate, and his country found him alike undetermined in treason as unstable in fidelity. Immediately on the victory at Dalkeith, Kirkpatrick (eager to be the first communicator of such welcome news to Lennox, who had planted himself as a watch at Stirling,) v/ithdrew secretly from Wallace's camp; and hoping to move the gratitude of the refractory lords, he entered at once mto the midst of their coun- cil. He proclaimed the success of his comm.ander, and his answer was accusations and insult. All that had been charged against the too fortunate Wallace, was re -urged v^/ith added acrimony. Treachery to the &tate 5 hypocrisy in morals, fanaticism in religion ; no stigma was too extravagant or contradictory to affix to his unsullied name. They who had been hurt in the fray in the hall, pointed to their still smarting wounds, and called upon Lennox to say if they did not plead against so dangerous a man ? " Dangerous to your crimes, and ruinous to your ambitions 1" cried Kirk- patrick, " For, so help me God, as I believe that an honester man than William Wallace, lives not in Scot- land : And that ye know : — and his virtues overtop- ping your littleness, yc would uproot the greatness which ye cannot equal 1" This speech? which a burst THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 305 of indignation had wrested from him, brought down ths wrath of the whole party upon himself. Lord Atiiol, yet stung with his old wound, furiously struck him :— Kirkpatrick drew his sword, and a fight commenced so fiercely between the combatants, that, gasping with almost the last breathings of life, neither could be torr^ from their desperate revenge, till many were cut in at- tempting to separate them ; and then the two were car- ried ovT insensible, and covered with wounds. When this sad news v/as transmitted by Lennox to Sir William Wallace, it found him on the banks of the ut that which I shall choose will, I trust, indeed lay i .o\d at peace, or point its hostilities to the only aim agaia?>*^ which a true Scot ought to direct its fires I" 310 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. Being arrived at the gate of Roslyn, Wallace, regard- \ less of those ceremonials which often impede the busi- ness they pretend to dignify, entered at once into the hall where the embassadors sat. Baron Hilton was one, and Le de Spencer (father to the young and vio- lent envoy of that name) was the other. At sight of '1 the Scottish chief they rose, and Wallace having gra- ' ciously recognised Hilton, the good Baron, believing he came on a propitious errand, smiling, said," Sir Wil- liam Wallace, it is your private ear I am commanded to seek." As he spoke he looked round on Snclair and the other lords. " These chieftains are as myself," re- plied Wallace, ''but I will not impede your embassy by crossing ^)^ wishes^ of your master in a trifle." He then turned to his friends, " Indulge the monarch of England in making mc first acquainted with v/hat can only be a message to the whole nation.*' The chiefs withdrew, and Hilton, without further parley, opened his mission. — He said, that King Ed- ward, more than ever impressed with the wondrous military talents of Sir V/iliiam Wallace, and solicitous to make a friend of so heroic an enemy, had sent him an olTer of grace which, if he contemned, should be the last. He offered him a theatre whereon he could dis- play his peerless endoA?ments to the admiration of the world — the kingdom of Ireland, with its yet unreaped , fields of glory, and all the ample riches of its abun- ; dant provinces, should be his ! Edward only required in return for this royal gift, that he should abandon the cause of Scotland, swear fealty to him for Irelar.d, and resign into his hands one whom he had proscribed as the most ungrateful of traitors. In acknowledgment for the latter sacrifice, he need only furnish his majes- " ty with a list of those Scottish lords against whom Wal- lace bore any resentment, and their fates should be or- dered according to his dictates. Edward concluded his offers hy inviting him immediately to London to be . invested with his new sovereignty: and he ended by shewing him the madness of abiding longer in a coun- try where almost every chieftain secretly or openly car- ried a dagger against his life ; and therefore he ex-. ■ . horted him no longer to contend for a cotmtry so uu* THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 311 worthy of freedom, thatitbore -with impatience the on- ly man who had had the courage to maintain it by vir- tue alone. Wallace replied calmly and without hesitation : " To this offer an honest man can make but one reply. As well might your sovereign exact of me to dethrone the angels of heaven, as to require me to subscribe to his proposals! — They do but mock me; and aware of my rejection, they are thus delivered; to throw the whole blame of this cruelly-persecuting war upon me. Ed- ward knows that as a knight, a true Scot, and a man, I should dishonour myself t'o accept even life, aye, or the lives of all my kindred, upon these terms." Hilton interrupted him by declaring the sincerity of Edward ; and contrasting it with the ingratitude of the people whom he had served, he conjured him with eve- ry persuasive of rhetoric, every entreaty dictated by a mind that revered the very firmness he strove to shake, to relinquish his faithless country and become the friend of a king ready to receive him with open arms. Wal- lace shook his head ; and with an incredulous smile which spoke his thoughts of Edward, while his eyes beamed .kindness upon Hilton, he answered — " Can the man who would bribe me to betray a friend, be faith- ful in his friendship ? — But that is not the weight with me :— I was not brought up in those schools, my good barofi, which teach that sound policy or true self-inter- est can be separated from virtue. When I was a boy my father often repeated to me this proverb, Dico tibi -♦erum, libertas optima rerum Nunquam servilissub nexu vivitur fili. (i) I learnt it then ; I have since made it the standard dfmy actions: and therefore I answer your monarch in a word. Were all others of my countrymen to re- sign their claims to the liberty which is their right, I alone would declare the independence of my country, and by God's assistance, while I live, acknowledge no other master than the laws of St. David and the legit- imate heir of his blood — !" The glow of resolute pat- riotism which overspread his countenance while he spoke, was reflected by a fluctuating colour on that of / 312 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. Hilton : " Noble chieftain I" cried he, " I admire- i while I regret ; I revere the virtue -which I am even now constrained to denounce. These principles, bravest cf.men, might have suited the simple ages of Greece and Rome, aPhocion or a Fabricius might have uttered the like, and compelled the homage of their enemies; but in these days such magnanimity is con- sidered frenzy, and ruin is its consequence." — " And shall a christian," cried Wallace, reddening with the flush of honest shame, "deem that virtue, which even heathens practised with veneration, of too pure a nature to be exercised by men taught by Christ himself? — There is blasphemy in the idea, and I can hear no more." Hilton, in some confusion, excused his argument, by declaring that it proceeded from his observations on the conduct of men. " And shall we," replied Wal- lace, " follow a multitude to do evil ? I act to one Be- ing alone. Edward must acknowledge his supremacy, and by that know that my soul is above all price 1'* " Am I answered ?" said Hilton, and then hastily interrupt- ing himself, he added in a voice even of supplication, " Your fate rests on your reply ! O ! noblest of War- riors, consider only for a day 1" — '* Not for a moment," said Wallace. — " I am sensible to your kindness, but my answer to Edward has been pronounced." Baron Hilton turned sorrowfully away, and Le de Spen- cer rose, " Sir William Wallace, my part of the em- bassy must be delivered to you in the assembly of your chieftains !" — =" In the congregation of my camp," re- turned he, and opening the door of the anti-room in "which his friends stood, he sent Edwin to summon his chieftains to the platform before the council-tent, and leaving the embassadors to follow with Sinclair, he ■withdrew between Bothwell and Ruthven, and in his way back to the camp narrated the particulars of Ed- ward's insidious message. THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS, SI. CHAP, xxvni. When Wallace entered before his tent he found not only the captams of his own army, but the followers of Soulis, wid the chieftains of Lothian. He looked on this range of his enemies with a fearless eye, and pass- ing through the crowd, took his station beside the em- bassadors on the platform of the tent. — The venerable Hilton turned away in tears as he advanced, and Le de Spencer came forward to speak. Wallace perceiving his intention, with a dignified action requested his leave for a few minutes, and then addressing the congrega- ted warriors, in brief he unfolded to them the offer of Edward to him, and what was his reply. " And now,*' added he, " the embassador of England, is at liberty to declare his master's alternative." Le de Spencer again stepped forward and attempted to speak, but the acclamations with which the followers of Wallace acknov/ledged the nobleness of his answer, excited such an opposite clamour on the side of the Soulis party, that Le de Spencer was obliged to mount a war-carriage which stood near, and vociferate long and loudly for silence, before he could be heard. But the first words which caught the ears of his audience acted like a spell, and seemed to hold them in breath- less attention. " Since Sir William Wallace rejects the grace of his liege lord Edward King of England, offered to him this once, and never to be more repeated, thus saith the king in his mercy to the earls, barons, knights, and commonalty of Scotland I — To every one of them, chief and vassal, excepting the aforesaid incorrigible rebel, he, the royal Edward, grants an amnesty of all their past treasons and rebellions against his sacred person and rule, provided that within twenty-four hours after they hear the words of this proclamation, they acknow= ledge their disloyalty with repentance, and laying down their arms, swear eternal fealty to their only lawful ru- ler tiie Lord Edward of England and Scotland 1" — Le de Spencer then proclaimed Edward to be now on the borders with an army of a hitndred thousand men, ready VOL. II. D t> 3U THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. to inarch with fire and sword into the heart of the king, dom, £fnd to put to the rack all of every sex, age, and condition, who shall venture to dispute his rights " Yield now," added he, " while yet you may not only grasp the clemency that is extended to you, but the rewards and honours he is ready to bestow. Adhere to that unhappy man, and by to-morrow's sun-set your offended king will be on these hills, and then mercy shall be no more ! Death is the doom of Sir William Wallace, and a similar fate to any Scot, who will dare after this hour to give him food, shelter, or succour. He is the prisoner of King Edward, and thus I demand him at your hands !" Wallace spoke not, but with an unmoved counte- nance looked round upon the assembly. " I, I will be faittiful to you to the last 1" exclaimed Edwin, preci- pitating himself into his friend's arms. — Bothwell's full soul now forced utterance from his swelling breast: ** Tell your sovereign," cried he, " that he mistakes. — We are the conquerors who ought to dictate terms of peace ! — Wallace is our invincible leader, our redeem- er from slavery, the earthly hope in whom we trust, and it is not in the power of men nor devils to bribe us to betray our benefactor. Away to your king, and tell him that Andrew Murray, and every honest Scot, is ready to live or die by the side of Sir William Wal- lace. *'—" And by this good sword, I swear the same 1" cried Ruthven. " And so do I !" rejoined Scrym- geour, *' or may the standard of Scotland be my wind- ing sheet !" Not another chieftain spoke for Wallace. Sinclair was intimidated, and like others who wished him well, feared to utter his sentiments. But most. Oh ! shame to Scotland and to man, cast up their bonnets, and cried aloud — " Long live King Edward, the only legitimate lord of Scotland !" At this outcry, which was echoed even by some whom he had confided in, by the chief- tains of Perthshire, and pealed around him like a burst of thunder, Wallace threw out his arms as if he would yet protect Scotlana from herself. — " O ! deso- late people," exclaimed he, in a voice of piercing woe, « too credulous of fair speeches, and not aware of the calamities which are coming upon you I Call to re- THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 315 . membrance the miseries you have suffered, and then, before it be too late, start from this snare of your op- pressor ! — Have I yet to tell ye that his embrace is death ?" (*> " Seize that rebellious man,'* cried Soulis to his marshals, " in the name of the King of England I com- mand you." — "And in the name of the Kin^- of Kings, I denounce death on him who attempts it 1" exclaimed Bothwell, throwing himself between Wallace and the men ; " put forth a hostile hand towards him, and this bugle shall call a thousand resolute swords to lay this platform deep in blood !" Soulis, followed by his knights, pressed forward to execute his commands himself Scrymgeour, Ruth- ven, and Ker, rushed before their friend. Edwin, start- ing forward, drew his sword, and the clash of steel was heard. Bothwell and Soulis grappled together, the falchion of Ruthven gleamed amidst a hundred swords, and blood flowed around. The voice, the arm of Wal- lace, in vain sought to enforce peace; he was not heard, he was not felt in the dreadful warfare. Ker fell with a gasp at his feet, and breathed no more. At such a sight the soul-struck chief wrung his hands, and exclaimed, in bitter anguish, " Oh, my country ! was it for these horrors that my Marion died ? that I became a home- less wretch, and passed my days and nights in fields of carnage ? Venerable Mar, dear and valiant Graham ! was this the consummation for which you fell ?" — At that moment, Bothwell having disabled Soulis by a wound in the arm, would have blown his bugle to have called up his men to a general conflict, but Wallace snatched the horn from his hand, and springing upon ihe very war-carriage from which Le de Spencer had proclaimed Edward's embassy, he drew forth his sword, and stretching the mighty arm that held it over the tiirong, with more than mortal energy he exclaimed, ** Peace ! men of Scotland, and for the last time hear the voice of William Wallace." A dead silence im» mediately ensued, and he proceeded : " If you have aught of nobleness within ye; if a delusion more fell than witchcraft have not blinded your senses, look beyond this field of horror, and behold your country free. Ed- 316 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS, ward in these apparent demands, sues for peace : — Did we not drive his armies into the sea ? — And were we resolved, he never could cross our borders more. What is it then that you do, when you again put your necks under his yoke ? Did he not seek to bribe me to betray you ? — And yet, when I refuse to purchase life and the world's rewards by such baseness, you — you forget that you are free-born Sects, that you are the victors and he the vanquished, and you give, not sell, your birth-right, to the demands of a tyrant ! You yield yourselves to his extortions, his oppressions, his revenge! — Think not he will spare the people he would have sold to purchase his bitterest enemy ; qr allow them to live unmanacled, who possess the power of resistance. On the day in which you are in his hands, you will feel that you have exchanged honour foT disgrace, liberty for bondage, life for death I — Me you abhor, and may God in your extremest hour forget that injustice, and pardon the faithful blood that has been shed this day ! I draw this swxdixI for you no more. But there yet lives a prince, a descendant pf the royal heroes of Scotland, whom Providence may conduct to be your preserver. Reject the proposals of Edward, dare to defend the freedom you now possess, and that prince will soon appear to crown your patriot- ism with glory and happiness 1" " We acknowledge no prince but King Edward of Eugland 1" cried Buchan. — " His countenance is our glory, his presence our happiness !'* — The exclamation was reiterated by almost all on the ground. Wallace was transfixed. — " Then," cried Le de Spencer, in the first pause of the tumult, " to every man, woman, and child, throughout the realm of Scotland, excepting Sir William Wallace, I proclaim in the name of King Ed- Ward, pardon and peace.'* At these words, a thousand Scottish chieftains drop- ped on their knees before Le dc Spencer and murmur- ed their vows of fealty. Indignant, grieved, Wallace took his helmet from Lis head, and throwing his sword into the hands of Bothwell," That weapon," cried he,^ ♦< which 1 wrested from this very King Edward, and with which I twice drove him from our borders, I give to THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. Sir you. In your hands it may again serve Scotland. I relinquish a soldier's name on the spot where I hum- bled England three times in one day, where I now see my victorious country deliver herself bound into the hand of the vanquished ! I go without sword or buck- ler from this dishonoured field ; and what Scot, my public or private enemy, will dare to strike the un- guarded head of Williann Wallace ? As he spoke he threw his shield and helmet to the ground, and leap- ing from the war-carriage, took his course with a fear- less and dignified step through the parting ranks of his enemies, who, awe-struck, or kept in check by a suspi- cion that others might not second the attack they would have made on him, durst not lift an arm or breathe a word as he passed. Wallace had adopted this manner of leaving the ground, in hopes if it were possible to awaken the least spark of honour in the breasts of his persecutors, to prevent the bloodshed which must ensue between his friends and them, should they attempt to seize him. Edwin and Bothwell immediately followed him ; but Ruthven and Scrymgeour remained, to take charge of the remains of the faithful Ker, (0 and to quiet the tu- mult which began to murmur amongst the lower or= ders of the by-standers. CHAP. XXX. A VAGUE suspicion of the Regent and his council^ and a pannic-struck pusillanimity which shrunk from supporting that Wallace whom the abthanes chose ta abandon, carried the spirit of slavery from the platform before the council-tent, to the chieftains who thronged the ranks of Ruthven, even to the perversion of some few who had followed the golden-haired standard of Bothwell. The brave troops of Lanark (which the des- perate battle of Dalkeith had reduced to not more than sixty men,) alone remained unmoved. In the moment whan the indignant Ruthven saw his Perthshire legions rolling off towards the trumpet o£ D D 2 318 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. Le de Spencer, Scrymgeour placed himself at the head of the Lanarkers and with the unfurled banner of Scot- land inarched with a steady step to the tent of Bothwell, whither he did not doubt that Wallace had retired. He found him assuagingthe impassioned grief of Edwin for what had passed, and striving to moderate the vehement wrath of the faithful Murray. " Pour not out the en- ergy of your spirit upon these worthless men V* said he, " leave them to the fates they seek : the fates they have incurred by the innocent blood they have shed this dry ! The few brave hearts who yet remain loy^l to their country, are insufficient to here stem the torrent of corruption. Retire beyond the Forth, my friend. Rally all true Scots around Hunting-tower Let the valiant inmate proclaim himself; and at the foot of the Grampians lock the gates of the Highlands upon our enemies. From those bulwarks he wall soon issue, and Scotland may again be free 1'* " Free, but never more honoured !" cried Edwin, " never more beloved by me ! Ungrateful, treacherous^ base land," added he, starting on his feet and raising his clasped hands with the vehement adjuration of an indignant spirit ; "Oh, that the salt se-a would engulf thee at once, that thy name and thy ingratitude could be no more remembered ! I will never wear a sword for her again. '^ " Edwin !" ejaculated Wallace, in a reproachful, yet tender tone. " Exhort m.e not to for- give my country !" returned he, " tell me to take my deadliest foe to my breast ; to pardon the assassin who strikes his steel into my heart, and I will obey you ; but to pardon Scotland for the injury that she has done to you ; for the disgrace with which her self-debase- ment stains this cheek; I never, never can ! — I abhor these sons of Lucifer ? Think not, noblest of masters, dearest of friends," cried he, throwing himself at Wal- lace's feet, " that I will ever shine in the light of those envious stars which have displaced the sun 1 No, tibi sdH shall henceforth be the impression on my shield : 10 thee alone will lever turn; and till your beams restore your country and revive me, the springing laurels of Edwin Ruthven shall wither where they grew 1" Wallace foWed him to his heart; a tear stocd THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 319 iti his eye while his cheek touched that of Edwin, and he said in a low voice, " If thou art mine, thou art Scot- land's. Me, she rejects. — Mysterious heaven wills that I should quit my post ; but for thee, Edwin, as a re- lic of the fond love lyetbearthis wretched country, abide by her, bear with her, cherish her, defend her for my sake ; and if Bruce lives, he will be to thee a second Wallace, a friend, a brother 1" Edwin listened, wept^ and sobbed, but his heart was fixed ; ind unable to speak, he broke from his friend's arms and hurried into an interior apartment to subdue his emotions. Ruthven now joined his determined opinion with that of Bothwell, that if ever a civil war could be sanc- tified, this was the time ; and in spite of all that Wal- lace could urge against the madness of contending for his supremacy over a nation which would not yield him obedience, still they remained firm in their resolution. Bruce they hardly dared hope would recover; and to relinquish the guiding hand of their best approved lea- der at this crisis, was a sacrifice no earthly power should compel them to make. " So far from it," cried Lord Bothwel], dropping on his knee and grasping the cross hilt of his sword in both hands, " I swear by the blood of the crucified Lord of an ungrateful world, that should Bruce die, I will obey no other king of Scot- land than William Wallace 1" Wallace turned ashy- pale as he listened to his vow. At that moment Scryni- geour entered followed by the Lanarkers ; and all kneeling at his feet, repeated the oath of Bothwell, and called on him, by the unburied corse of his murdered Ker, to lead them forth, and avenge them of his ene» mies. As soon as the agitation of his soul would allow him to speak to this faithful group, he stretched his hands over them ; and tears, such as a father would shed who looks on the children he is to behold no more, gliding over his cheeks ; he said in a subdued and faltering voice, "God will avenge our friend: my sword is sheathed for ever. May that holy Being who is the true and best king of the virtuous, always be present with you ! I feel your love, and I appreciate it. But, Both- ■^eell, Ruthven, Scrymgeour, my faithful Lanarkers:? 320 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. leave me awhile to compose my scattered thoughts Let me pass this night alone ; and to-morrow you shall know the resolution of your grateful Wallace 1" The shades of evening were closing in, and the Lan- arkers, first obtaining permission to keep guard before the wood which skirted the tent, respectfully kissing his hand withdrev/. Ruthven called Edwin from the recess whither he had retired to unburthen his grief ; but as soon as he heard that it was the resolution of his friends to preserve the authority of Wallace, or to per- ish in the contest, the gloom passed from his fair brow, a smile of triumph parted his lips, and he exclaimed, " All will be well again I We shall force this deluded nation to recognise her safety and her happiness 1" While the determined chiefs held discourse conge- nial with the wishes of the youthful knight, Wallace sat almost silent. He seemed revolving some momen- tous idea: he frequently turned his eyes on the speak- ers with a fixed regard, which appeared rather full of a grave sorrow, than demonstrative of any sympathy in the subjects of their discussion. On Edwin he at times looked with penetrating tenderness; and when the bell from the neighbouring convent sounded the hour of rest, he stretched out his hand to him with a smile which he wished should speak of comfort r.s well as of affection ; but the soul spoke more eloquently than he had intended : his smile was mournful, and the attempt to render it otherwise, like a transient light over vi dark sepulchre, only the more distinctly shewed the gloom and horrors within. " And am 1 too to leave you?" said Edwin. "Yes, my brother,'* replied Wal- lace, " I have much to do with heaven and my own thoughts this night. We separate now to m*eet more gladly hereafter. I must have solitude to arrange my plans. To-morrow you shall know them. Meanwhile farewell !" as he spoke he pressed the affectionate youth to his breast, and warmly grasping the hands of his three other friends, bade them an earnest adieu. Bothweli lingered a moment at the tent door, and iooking back J " Let your first plan be, that to-morrow you lead us to Lord Soulis's quarters, to teach the trai- tor what it is to be a Scot and a man T' " My plana THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 32 i shall be deserving of my brave colleagues," replied Wal- lace; "and whether they be executed on this or the other side of the Forth, you shall find, my long-tried Bothwell, that Scotland's peace and the honour of her best sons are the dearest considerations of your friend." When the door closed and Wallace was left alone, he stood for awhile in the middle of the tent listening to the departing steps of his friends. When the last sound died on his ear; "I shall hear them no morel'* cried he ; and throwing himself into a seat, he remain- ed for an hour lost in' a trance of grievous thoughts. Melancholy remembrances, and prospects dire for Scotland, pressed upon his surcharged heart. ^ " It is to God alone I must confide my country 1" cried he, " his mercy will pity its madness, and forgive its deep transgressions. My duty is to remove the object of ruin far from the power of any longer exciting jealou- sy, or awakening zeal." With these words, he took a pen in his hand to write to Bruoe. He briefly narrated the events which compelled hini, if he would avoid the grief of having occasioned a civil war, to quit his country for ever. The general hostility of the nobler; the unresisting acquiescence of the peo- ple in measures which menaced his life and sacrificed the freedom for which he had so long fought, convinced him, he said, that his wavlike commission was now closed. He was summoned by heaven to exchange tho field for the cloister : and to the monastery at Chartres he was now hastening to dedicate the remainder of his days to the peace of a future ^vorld. He then exhorted Bruce to confide in the lords Ruthven and Bothwell as his soul would comm.une with his spirit, for that he would find them true unto death. He counselled him, as the leading measure, to circumvent the treason of Scotland's enemies, to go immediately to Kilchurn Castle. Loch-awe had retired thither on the last ap- proach of De Warenne, meaning to call out kis vassals for the emergency. But the battle of Dalkeith was fought and gained before they could leave their heights, and the victor did not need them afterwards. To use them for his establishment on the throne of his king- dom, Wallace advised Bruce. Amidst the natural fov 322 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. tresses of the Highlands he might recover his health and collect his friends, and openly proclaim himself. " Then," added he, " when Scotland is your own, let its bulwarks be its mountains and its people's arms. Dis- m.antle and raze to the ground the castles of those chieftains who have only embattled them to betray and enslave f^eir country." Though intent on these politi- cal suggestions, he ceased not to remember his own brave engines of war; and he earnestly conjured his prince, that he would wear the valiant Kirkpatrick as a buckler on his heart ; that he would place the faithful Scrymgeour and his Lanarkers, with Grimsby, next him as his body guard; and, that he would love and cherish the brave and tender Edwin, for his sake. "When my prince and friend receives thiss" added he, " Wallace shall have bidden an eternal farewell to Scotland : but his heart will be amidst its hills. My king, the friends most dear to me, will still be there ! The earthly part of my beloved wife rests within its bo- som. But I go to rejoin her soul : to meet it in the nightly vigils of days consecrated wholly to the bles- sed Being in whose presence she rejoices for even This is no sad destiny, my dear Bruce. Our Almighty Captain recalls me from dividing with you the glory of maintaining the liberty of Scotland ; but he brings me closer to himself: I leave the plains of Gilgal, to as- cend with his angel into the Empyrean ! Mourn not then my absence ; for my prayers v>^ill be with you till we are again united in the only place where you can fully know me as I am, thine and Scotland's never-dying friend 1 Start not at the bold epithet. My body may sink into the grave ; but the affections of my immortal spirit are eternal as its essence ; and in earth or heaven I am ever yours. ** Should the endearing Helen be near your couch when you read this, tell her that Wallace now in idea presses her virgin cheek with a brother's chaste fare- well, and from his inmost soul hr blesses her.'* Messages of respectful adieus he sent to Isabella, Lady Ruthven, and the Sage of Ercildoun : and then kneeling down, in that posture he wrote his last invo» cations for the prosperity and happiness of Bruce. THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 323 This letter finished, with a more tranquil mind ho addressed Lord Ruthven ; detailini^ to him his reasons for leaving such faithful friends so clandestinely ; and after mentioning his purpose of going immediately to France, he ended with those expressions of gratitude which the worthy chief so well deserved; and exhort- ing him to transfer his public zeal for him, to the mag- nanimous and royal Bruce, closed the letter, with beg- ging him, for the sake of his friend, his king, and his country, to return immediately with all his followers to Hunting-tower, and to deliver to their prince the in- closed. His letter to Scrymgeour spoke nearly the same language. But wiien he began to write to Both- well, to bid him that farewell which his heart foreboded would be for ever in this world ; to part from this his steady companion in arms, his dauntless champion ! he lost some of his composure, and his hand-writing testi- fied the emotion" of his mind. How then was he shaken when he addressed the young and devoted Edwin, the brother of his soul ! He dropped the pen from his band. At that moment he felt all he was going to re- linquish, and he exclaimed, " Oh, Scotland ! my un- grateful ceuntr) 1 what is it you do ? Is it thus that you i-epay your most faithful servants ? It is not enough that the wife of my bosom, the companion of my youth, should be torn from me by your enemies; but your hand must wrest from my bereaved heart its every other solace. You snatch from me my friends; you would deprive me of my life ! To preserve yuu from that crime, I imbitter the cup of death ; 1 go far from the tombs of my fathers ; from the grave of my Marion, where I had fondly hoped to rest 1" His head sank on his arm ; his heart gave way under the pressure of ac- cumulated regrets, and floods of teuis poured from his eyes. Deep and frequent were his sighs, but none an- swered him. Friendship was far distant; and where was that gentle being who would have soothed his sor- row on her bosom ? She it was he lamented. " Dreary, dreary solitude !" cried he, looking around him with an aghast perception of all that he had lost: "how have I been mocked for these three long years 1 What is re- nown, what the loud acclaim of admiring throngs, what S24 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. the bended knees of worshipping gratefulness, bftt breath and vapour 1" It seems to shelter the mountain's top : the blast comes ; it rolls from its sides ; and the lonely hill is left to all the storm ! So stand I, my Ma- rion, when bereft of thee. In weal or woe, thy smiles^, thy warm embrace, were mine : my head reclined on that faithful breast, and still I found my home, my hea- ven. But now, desolate and alone, ruin is around me. Destructions wait on all who would steal one pang from the racked heart of William Wallace I even pity is no more for me ! — Take me then, O ! Power of Mercy !'* cried he, stretching forth his hands, " take me to thy- self!" A peal of thunder at these words burst on his ear, and seemed to roll over his tent, till passing off to- wards the west it died away in a long and solemn sound. Wallace rose from his knee, on which he had sunk at this awful response to his heaven-directed ad- juration : "Thou callest me, my father 1" cried he, with a holy confidence dilating his soul ; " I go from » the world to thee I — I come and befoi'e thy altars shall know no human weakness." In a paroxysm of sacred enthusiasm he rushed from the tent, and reckless whither he went, struck into the depths of Roslyn woods. With the steps of the ,wind he'picrced their remotest thickets, till he reach- fed the most distant of the Esk's tributary streams: but that did not stop his course, he bounded over it, and ascending its moon-light bank, was startled by the sound of his name. Grimsby, attended by a youth, stood before him. The veteran expressed amazement at meeting his master alone ac this hour unhelmeted •• and unarmed, in so dangerous a direction. " The ^ road," said he, " between this and Stirling, is beset with your enemies." W^allace instead of noticing this information, inquired of the soldier what news he brought from Hunting-tower. " The worst," said he. — " By this lime the royal Bruce is no more !" Wal- lace gasped convulsively, and fell against a tree. Grimsby paused. In a few minutes the heart-struck chief was able to speak ; " Listen not to my groans THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 325 for unhapp)^ Scotland !" cried he, " shew me all that is in this last phial of wrath." Grimsby, with as much caution as he could, inform- ed him that Bruce was so far recovered as to have left his couch yestei'day, when at noon a letter was brought to Lady Helen, who was sitting with him. She open- ed it ; and having read only a few lines fell senseless into the arms of her sister. Bruce, alarmed for Ruth- yen, instantly snatched up the vellum ; but not a word i did he speak till he had perused it to the end. It was from the Countess of Strathearn, cruelly exulting in what she termed the demonstration of Wallace's guilt; and congratulating herself on having been the primary means of discovering it, ended with a boast that his once adoring Scotland now held him in such detesta- tion as to have doomed him to die. It was this denun- ciation which had struck to the soul of Helen ; and while the anxious Lady Ruthven removed her inani- mate form into another room, he read the barbarous triumphs of this disappointed woman* " No power on earth can save him now," continued she ; " your dot- ing heart must yield him, Helen, to another rest than your bridal chamber. His iron breast shall meet with others as adamantine as his own. A hypocrite ! he felt not pity, he knows no beat of human sympathies, and, like a rock he will fall, unpitied, undeplored — Unde- plored by all but you, silly, self-deluded girl ! My no- ble lord, the princely De Warenne, informs me that your Wallace is outlawed by his own country, and a price set upon his head by ours: hence, there is safety for him no where. Those he has outraged shall be avenged :-^and his cries for mercy ! who will answer them ? No voice on earth. For none will dare support the man whom both friends iind enemies aban- don to destruction." " Yes," cried Bruce, starting from his seat, " I will support him, thou damned traitoress 1 Bruce will de- clare himself 1 — Bruce will throw himself before his friend, and in his breast receive every arrow meant for that godlike heart ! Yes," he, glancing on the terrified looks of Isabella, wiio believed that his delirium was returned, " I would snatch him in these arms from the VOL^ IT. EE .26 THE SCOTTISH CHIEI^S flames, did all the fiends of hell guard the infernal fire !'* Not a word more did he utter, but darting into his apartment, in a few minutes he was seen before the Barbican gate armed from head to foot and calling on Grimsby to bring him a horse. Grimsby obeyed ; and at that moment Lady Helen appeared from the window, wringing her hands and exclaiming. " Save him, for the love of heaven, save him !" " Yes," cried Bruce, " or you see me no more." And striking his rowels into his horse, he was out of sight in an instant. Grimsby followed, and came in view of him just as he was attempting to cross a wide fissure in the rocky path : the horse struck his heel against a loose stone as he made the leap, and it giving way, he lost his spring and fell immediately into the deep ravine. At the moment of his disappearance, Grimsby, with a cry of horror rushed towards the spot and saw the horse struggling in the last agonies of death at the bottom. — ^ Bruce la.y insensible amongst some bushes which grew nearer the top. With difficulty the honest English- man got him dragged to the surface of the hill ; and finding all attempts to recover him ineffectual, he laid 3iim on his own breast, and so carried him slowly back to the castle. The Sage of Ercildoun restored him to life but not to recollection, by lettiiig him blood." The fever returned on him, with a delirium so hope- less of recovery," continued Grimsby, " that Lord Douglas being not yet returned from Scone (where he was stationed to keep all in order during our prince's illness,) the Lady Helen, in an agony of grief, sent me with this youth to implore you to go to Hunting-tower, All the ladies say they will conceal you till Bruce is re- covered ; and then, most noble Wallace, he will pro- claim himself and again move with you, his right liand, to achieve his crown. But should he be torn from us. Loch-awe is in arms, and the kingdom may be yours." " Send me," cried Walter Hay falling at his feet, '« send me back to Lady Helen, and let me tell her that our benefactor, the best guardian of our country, will not abandon us ! Should you depart, Scotland's genius will go Vv-ith you ; again she must sink, again i THf: SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 3^; she will be in ruins. De Valence v/ill regain posses- sion of my dear lady, and you will not be near to save her/' - " Grimsby, Walter, my faithful friends 1" cried Wal ■ lace in an agitated voice ! " I do not abandon Scotland : she drives me from her. ^Vould she have allowed me, I would have borne her in iny arms until my latest g'asp ; but it must not be so. I resign her into the Al- mighty's hands to which I commit myself: they w^ili also preserve the Lady Helen from violence. Bruce is with her. — If he lives he will protect her for my sake ; and should he die, Bothwell and Ruthven will cherish her for their own." " But you will go to her,"' said Grimsby. "Disguised in these peasant's gar- ments, which we have brought for the purpose, you may pass through the legions of the Regent v,-ith per- fect security.''* " Let me implore you, if not for your own sake, for ours ! — Pity our desolation, and save yourself for them who^ can know no safety v/hen you are gone T' Waiter clung by his arm as he uttered this supplication. Wallace looked tenderly upon him: — " I would save myself; and I v/ill. please God," said he, " but by no means unworthy of myself. I go, but ?iot under any disguise. — Openly have i defended Scot- land, and openly will I pass through her lands. NonCj who would not be m.ore doubly accurst than the m.urderer Cain, will venture to impede m.y steps. The chalice of heaven consecrated me the champion of my country, and no Scot dare lift a hostile hand against this anointed head." " Whither do you go ?" cried Grimsby. " Let me follow you, in joy or sorrow 1" " And me too, my be- nefactor 1" rejoined Walter ; " and when you look on me, think not that Scotland is altogether ungratetul !'* " My faithful friends," returned he, " whither I go, I must go alone. And, as a proof of your love, grant Tiie your obedience this once. Rest amongst tiiese thickets till morning. — I would not have my good Lan- arkers disturbed sooner than is needful by the evil news you bring. At sun-rise you may join thc^ir camp : then you will know my destination. But till Bruce proclainis hiiyiself at the head of his country's armies. 328 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. for my sake never reveal to mortal man that he who lies debilitated by sickness at Hunting-tower, is other than Sir Thomas de Longueville." " Rest we cannot," replied Grimsby, " but still we will obey our master. You tell me to adhere to Bruce and to serve him till the hour of his death: 1 will — but should he die, then 1 may seek you cut and again be your faithful servant?" -' You will find mc before the cross of Christ," return- Wallace, " with saints my fellow soldiers, and God my only kingl Till then Grimsby, farewell. Walter, carry my fidelity to your mistress. She will share my thoughts with the Blessed Virgin of Heave« ; for in all my prayers shall her name be remembered." Grimsby and Walter, struck by the holy solemnity of his manner, fell on their knees before him. Wallace raised his hands : " Bless, Oh, Father of Light, " cried he, " bless this unhappy land when Wallace is no more: and let his memory be lost in the virtues and prosperity of Robert Bruce !" Grimsby svmk on the earth, and gave way to a burst of manly sorrow. Walter hid his weeping face in the folds of his master's mantle, and while he firmly grasp- ed it inly vowed that no force should separate him from his benefactor and lord : but in the midst of his grief he felt the stuff he held loose in his hand, and looking up, saw that the plaid to which he clung was all that remained of Wallace :— he had disappeared/^^ CHAP- XXX. Vv ALLACE having iwrned abruptly away from hi!> lamenting servants, struck into the deep defiles of the Pentland hills : and deeming it probable that the deter- mined affection of some of his friends might urge them to dare the perils attendant on his fellowship, he hesi- tated a moment v/hich path to take, (^.ertainly not to- wards Hunting-tower, to bring immediate destruction on its royal inhabitant. Neither to any chieftain of the Highlands, to give rise to a spirit of civil warfare \vhich might not afterwards be sanctioned by its only I THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 329 just excuse, the appearance and establishment of the lawful prince. Neither would he pursue the eastern track; for in that direction, as pointing to France, his friends would seek him. — He therefore turned his steps towards the ports of Ayr : the road was circuitous, but it M'ould soon enough take him from the land of his fathers, from the country he must never see again. As morning dispelled the shades of night, it disco- vered still more dreary glooms. A heavy mist hung over the hills and rolled before him along the valley. Still he pursued his way, although as day advanced the va- pours collected into thicker blackness, and floating down the heights in portentous volumes, at last burst in a torrent of overwhelming rain. All was darkened around by the descending water ; and the accumulating floods dashing from the projecting craigs above, swel- led the burn in his path to a roaring river, Wallace stood in the midst of it, with its wild waves breaking against his sides. The rain fell on his uncovered head, and the chilling blast sighed in his streaming hair.— Looking around him, he paused a moment amid this tumult of nature : " Must there be strife even amongst the elements, to shew that this is no longer a land for me ? — Spirits of these hills," cried he, " pour not thus your rage on a banished man ! — A man without a friend, without a home ?" He started, and smiled at his own adjuration. " The spirits of my ancestors ride not in these blasts : the delegated powers of heaven launch not this tempest on a defenceless head ; 'tis chance : but affliction shapes all things to its own likeness. Thou, Oh ! my Father, would not suff"er any demon of the air to bend thy broken reed ! Therefore, rain on ye torrents ; ye are welcome to William Wallace. He can well breast the mountain storm, who has stemmed the ingratitude of his country." Hills, rivers, and vales, were measured by his solita- ry steps, till entering on the heights of Clydesdale the broad river of his native glen spread its endeared wa-- ters before him. Not a wave passed along that had not kissed the feet of some scene consecrated to his memory. Before him, over the western hills, lay the lands vi his forefathers. There he had first drawn his E E 2 3 30 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS • breath r there he imbibed from the lips of his revered g-randfather, now no more, those lessons of virtue by which he had lived, and for which he was now ready to die. Far to the left stretched the wide domains of I^ammington : there his youthful heart first knew the pulse of love ; there all nature smiled upon him, for Marion was near, and hope hailed him from every sun^ lit mountain's brow. Onward, in the depths of the cliffs, lay Ellerslie, where he had tasted the joys of para- dise ; but all there, like that once blessed place, now- lay in one wide ruin 1 " Shall I visit thee again ?" said he, as he hurried along' the beetling eraigs ; " Ellerslie ! Ellerslie !" cri- ed he, "'tis no hero, no triumphant warrior, that ap- proaches I Receive, — shelter, thy deserted, widowed master ! I come, my Marion, to mourn thee in thine own domains !" He flew forward ; he ascended the cliffs ; he rushed down the hazle-crowued path-way, but it was no longer smooth ; thistles and thickly-interwo- ven underwood, obstructed his steps. Breaking through them all, he turned the angle of the rock, the ]ast screen to the view of his once beloved home. On this spot he used to stand on moon-light evenings, watching the graceful form of his Marion as she passed to and fro by her window, preparing for her nightly rest. His eye now turned instinctively to the same point ; but it gazed on vacancy. His home had disap- peared : one solitary tower alone remained, standing like "a hermit the last of his race," to mourn over the desolation of all with which it had once been surround- ed.^"^ Not a human being now moved on the spot which three years before was thronged with his grate- ful vassals. Not a voice was now heard, where then sounded the harp of Halbert ; where breathed the soul entrancing song of his beloved Marion I " Death I" cried he, striking his breast, " how many ways hast thou to bereave poor mortality I All, all gone ! — My Marion sleeps in Bothwell : the faithful Halbert at her feet. And my peasantry of Lanark, how many of you have found untimely graves in the bosom of your vain- ly-rescued country 1" He sprang on the mouldering fragments heaped THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. So. over the pavement of wJiat had been the hall. " My wife's blood marks these stones !" cried he. He flung himself along them, and a groan burst from his heart. It echoed mournfully from the opposite rock. — He started, and gazed around. " Solitude 1 solitude 1" cried he, with a faint smile ; " nought is here but Wallace and his sorrow. Marion I I call, and even thou dost iiot answer me ; thou who ever flew at the sound of my voice ! Look on me, love," exclaimed he, stretching his arms towards the sky ; '* look on me : and for once, for ever, cheer thy lonely, heart-stricken Wallace 1" Tears choked his further utterance ; and once more laying his head upon the stones, he wept in soul-dis- solving sorrow till exhausted nature found repose in sleep. The sun was gilding the grey summits of the ruined tower under whose shadow he lay, when Wallace slow- ly opened his eyes ; and looking around him, he smote his breast, and with a heavy groan sunk back upon the stones. In the silence which succeeded this burst of memory he thought he heard a rustling near him, and a half-suppressed sigh. He listened breathlessly. The sigh was repeated. — He gently raised himself on his hand, and with an expectation he dared hardly whisper to himself, he turned towards the spot whence the sound proceeded. The branches of a rose-tree, once a favour- ite of his Marion, shook violently and scattered the leaves of their ungathered flowers upon the brambles wlrich grew beneath. Wallace rose in agitation; and perceived the skirts of a human figure which had re- treated behind the ruins. He advanced towards it, and beheld Edvrin Ruthven. The moment their eyes met, Edwin precipitated himself at his feet and clinging to him, exclaimed, " Pardon me this pursuit ? But we meet to part no more !" Wallace raised him and strai- ned him to his breast in silence. Edv/in, in hardly ar- ticulate accents continued ; " Some kind power check- ed your hand when writing to your Edwin. You could not command him not to follow you I you left the letter unfinished ; and thus I come to bless you for not con- demning me to die of a broken heart 1" " I did not write farewell to thee," cried Wallace, looking rnourr- 532 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. fully on him ; " but I meant it : for I must part from all I love in Scotland. It is my doom. This country needs me not ; and 1 have need of heaven. I go into hs outcourts at Chartres. Follow me there, dear boy, "vvlien thou hast accomplished thy noble career on the earth, and then our grey hairs shall mingle together over the altar of the God of Peace : but no\v, receive the farewell of thy friend. — Return to Bruce, and be to him the dearest representative of William Wallace." — . *' Never, never!" cried Edwin, " Thou alone art my prince, my friend, my brother, my all in this world !-— My parents, dear as they are, would have buried my youth in a cloister ; but your name called me to hon- our ; and to you, in life or death, I dedicate my being." ' " Then," returned Wallace, " that honour sum- mons you to the side of the dying Bruce. He is now in the midst of his foes." " And where art thou ?" in- terrupted Edwin ; " Who drove thee hence, but ene= mies ? who line these roads, but wretches sent to betray their benefactor ? No, my friend, thy fate shall be my fate, thy woe my v;oe I We live or die tog'ether : the field, the cloistei^, or the tomb ; all shall be v/elcomed by Edwin Ruthven, if they separate him not from theel" Seeing that Wallace was going to speak, and fearful that it vvas to repeat his commands to be left alone, he suddenly exclaim.ed with vehemence, " Father of men and angels ! grant nie thy favour, only as I am true to the vow I have s',vorn, never more to leave the side of Sir "William Wallace !" To urge the dangers to which such a resolution would expose this too faithful friend, Wallace knew would be in vain : he read an invincible determination in the eye and gesture of Edwin ; and, 'therefore, yiel- ding to the demands of friendship, he threw himself on his neck. " For thy sake, Edwin, I will yet bear with mankind at large ! Thy bloom of honour shall not be cropt by n>y hand. We will go together to France, and while I rest under the lilies of its good king, thou shalt bear the standard of Scotland in the land of our ally, against the proud enemies of Bruce." " Make of me what you will;" returned Edwin, pressing his hand to his lips ; *' only do not divide me from yourself!" THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 333 Wallace now told his friend that it was his design to cross the hills into Ayrshire, in some of the ports of which he did not doubt he should find some vessel bound for France. This design, Edwin overturned by- telling him, that in the moment the abthanes re-pledged their secret faith to Edward, they sent a strong guard to Ayrshire, to watch the m.ovements of his povrerful re- lations, and to prevent their either hearing of, or march- ing to the assistance of their wronged kinsman. Since then, no sooner was it discovered by the insurgent lords at Roslyn that Wallace had disappeared from the camp, than supposing he meant to appepJ to Philip, they dispatched expresses all along the western and eastern coasts, from the Friths of Forth and Clyde to those of Solway and Berwick upon Tweed, to intercept him. Wallace, on finding that all avenues from the southern part of his country were closed upon him, de- termined to try the north : Some bay in the v/estern Highlands might open its yet not ungrateful arms, to set its benefactor free. " And if not a by ship," returned Edv/in, " a fisher's boat shall launch us from a country which is no longer worthy of you ; — and, by the power of Him who hushed the raging waves of Galilee, my master will yet find a haven and a friend 1" Their course was then taken along the Cartlane craigs at a distance from those villages and mountain cots which, leaning from their verdant heights, seemed to invite the traveller to refreshment and repose. Though the sword of Wallace had won them this quiet ; though his wisdom, like the cornucopia of Ceres, had spread the lately barren hills with beauteous harvests, yet, had an ear of corn been asked in his name, it would have been denied. A price was set upon his head ; aad the lives of all who should succour him would be for- feited ! — He who had given bread and homes to thou- sands, was left to perish, — had not where to lay his head. Edwin looked anxiously on him as at times they sped silently along : "Ahl" thought he, " this heroic endurance of evil is the true cross of our celestial cap- tain ! Let who will carry its painted insignia to the Ho- ly Land, here is the man that bears the real substanccj 334 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. and walks undismayed in the path of his sacrificed < lord !" The black plumage of a common Highland bonnet, "jj which Edwin purchased at one of the cottages whither ] he had gone alone to buy a few oaten cakes, hung over ] the face of his friend. That face no longer blazed with the fire of generous valour; it was pale and sad: — but whenever he turned his eye on Edvvin, the shades which seemed to envelope it disappeared ; a bright smile spoke the peaceful consciousness within ; and a look | of grateful affection expressed his comfort at having j found that in defiance of every danger he was not yet for- ] saken. Edwin's happy spirit rejoiced in every glad beam which shone on the face of him he loved. It av^oke fe- licity in his heart: for merely to be on occasions near Wallace and to share his confidence with others, had always filled him with joy; but novv^ to be the only one on whom his noble heart leaned for consolation, was bliss unutterable. He trod in air, and even chid his beating heart for the throbs of delight which seemed to exult when his friend suffered : — ^'But not so," ejacu- lated he internally ; " it is delight to live and die with thee. And if it be such pleasure even to share thy ca- lamity ; what will be my felicity when I dwell with thee in security and princely honours ! For such, dearest of friends, will be the welcome of Philip to his Lord of Gascony !" These thoughts comforted Edwin; but he did not allov/ them to escape his bosom. As they arrived within sight of the high towers of Bothwell Castle, Wallace stopped. " We must not go thither," said Ed\vin, replying to the sentiment which spoke from the eyes of his friend ; the servants of my cousin Andrew may not be as faithful as their lord !'' — '^ I will not try them ;" returned Wallace with a re- signed smile, " my presence in Bothwell chapel shall not pluck danger on the head of my dauntless Murray. She wakes in heaven for me, whose body sleeps there : and knowing Avhere to find the jewel, my friend ! shall I linger over the casket ?" While he yet spoke, a chieftain on horse-back sud- denly emerged from the trees which led to the castle, ?.nd drew to their side. Edwin was wrapped In hi^ THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 335 J)Iaid ; and cautiously concealing his face that no chance of his being recognised might betray his companion, Avalked on -without once looking at the stranger, the first glance at whose knightly caparisoned horse had declared his quality. But Wallace being without any shade over the noble contour of a form which, for ma- jesty and grace was unequalled in Scotland, was not to be mistaken. He moved swiftly forward. The horse- man spurred after him. Wallace perceiving himself pursued and therefore known, and aware that he must be overtaken, suddenly stopped. Edwin in a moment drew his sword and would have given it into the hand of his friend, but W^allace putting it back, rapidly an- swered ; " Leave my defence to this unweaponed arm. I would not use steel against my countrymen, but none shall take me while I have a sinev/ to resist." The chieftain now checked his horse in front of Wal- lace, and respectfully raising his visor, discovered Sir John Menteith. At sight of him, Edwin dropped the point of his yet uplifted sword; and Wallace stepping back, " Menteith," said he, " I am sorry for this ren- contre. If you would be safe from the destiny which pursues me, you must retire immediately, and forget that Ave have met." — " Never !" cried Menteith, " I know the ingratitude of an envious country drives the bravest ©f her champions from its borders ; but I also know what belongs to myself! To serve you at all ha- zards ; and in my castle of Newark on the Frith of Clyde to demonstrate my sense of the dangers you once incurred for me. I therefore thank my fortune for this rencontre. In vain Wallace urged his determination not to bring peril on even the obscurest of his countrymen, by so- journing under any roof till he were far from Scotland. In vain he pointed to Menteith the outlawry which would await him should the infuriate abthanes discover that he had given their self-created enemy a shelter. Menteith, after as unsuccessful persuasions on his side, at last declared that he knew a vessel was now laying at Newark in which Wallace might embark without enter- ing any house. He ended with imploring that his friend would allow him to be his guide to its anchorage. To oS6 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. enforce this supplication he threw himself off his horse, and leaving it to stray whither it would, with protesta- tions of fidelity that trampelled on all dangers he en- treated, even with tears and the most vehement gestures of despair, not to be refused the last comfort which he foresaw he should ever know in his now degraded country. "Once I saw Scotland's steady champion, the brave Douglas, rifled from her shores ! Do not then doom me to a second grief, bitterer than the first; do not you yourself drive me from the side of her last he- ro 1 — Ah 1 let me behold you, companion of my school- days. Friend, Leader, Benefactor ! till the sea wrests you for ever from my eyes \" — Exhausted and affected, Wallace gave his hand to Menteith : the tear of grati- tude stood in his eye. He looked affectionately from Menteith to Edwin, from Edwin to Menteith ; " Wal- lace shall yet live in the memory of the virtuous of this land: you, my friends, prove it. I go richly forth, for the hearts of good men are my companions." As they journeyed along the devious windings of the Clyde, and passing at a distance the aspiring turrets of Rutherglen, Edwin pointed to them and said, " From that church, a few months ago, did you dictate a con- queror's terms to England !" " And now that very England makes me a fugitive 1" returned Wallace. — '•' Oh ! not England !" interrupted Edwin, " you bow not to her. It is blind, mad Scotland, who thus thrusts her benefactor from her:" "Ah I then, my Edwin," rejoined he, " read in rne the history of thousands ! So various is the fate of a people's idol : to-day he is worshipped as a God, to-morrow thrown into the fire 1" Menteith turned pale at this conversation, and quick- ening his steps, in silence hurried past the opening of the valley which presented the view of Rutherglen. Night overtook the travellers at the little viDage of Lumloch, about two hours journey from Glasgrow. Here, as a severe storm came on, Menteith advised his friends to take shelter and rest. " As you object to lodge with man," said he, " you may sleep secure in an old ruined barn which at present has no ostensible own- er. I saw it as I passed this way from Newark. But I rather wish you would forget this too chary regard THE SCOTTISH CHIEF'S. 337 for others, and lodge with me in the neighbouring cot- tage." — Wallace was insensible to the pelting of the elements; his unsubdued spirit neither wanted rest for mind nor body: but the languid voice and lingering step of the young Edwin who had been unused to such 1 fatigue on foot, penetrated his heart; and notwithstand- ing that the resolute boy, on the first proposal of Men- teith, suddenly rallied himself and declared he was neither weary nor faint, Wallace saw that he was both, i and yielded his consent to be conducted from the storm. " But not," said he, " into the house. We will go into the barn ; and there, on the dry earth, my Ed- Iwin and I will sleep.'* Menteith did not oppose him farther, and pushing open the door, Wallace and Edwin entered. Their friend soon after followed with a light, which he brought from the cottage, and pulling down some upheaped straw, strewed it on the ground for a bed. " Here I shall sleep like a prince 1" cried Edwin, throwing him- self along the scattered truss. "But not," returned Menteith, "till I have disengaged you from your wet garments ; and, for the sake of future scenes of prow- ess preserved your arms and brigandine from the rust of this night." Edwin, sunk in weariness, said little in opposition; and having suffered Menteith to take away his sword, and dagger, and to unbrace his plated vest, dropped at once on the straw in a profound sleep. Wallace, that he might not disturb his friend by the murmur of debate, also yielded to the request of Men- teith, and unbuckling his cuirass, gave it to him, and lay- ing himself down by Edwin, waved their conductor a good night. Menteith nodded the same, and closed the door upon his victims. Well known to the generals in King Edward's army, as one whose soul was a mere counter in traffic, Aymer de Valence (on being appointed Lord Warden of Scot- land in the room of De Warenne, who was incapa- citated by the wound he had received in the last battle near Dalkeith,) told his king, that if he would autho- rize him to ofter an earldom with adequate estates to Sir John Menteith the old friend of Wallace, he was sure so rapacious a chieftain would traverse sea and VOL. II. FF 533 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. land to put that formidable Scot into the hands of Eng- land. To incline Edward to the proffer of so large a bribe, De Valence instanced Menteith*s having volunteered, while he commanded with Sir Eustace Maxwell on the Borders, to betray the forces under him to the English general. The treachery was accepted; and for its ex- ecution he received a casket of uncounted gold. Some other poofs of his devotion to England were mentioned by De Valence. " You mean his devotion to money !** replied the king ; " and if that will make him ours at this crisis, give him overflowing coffers, but no earl- dom I — Though I must have the head of Wallace, I would not have one of my peers shew a title written in his blood. Ill deeds must sometimes be done, but wc do not emblazon their perpetrators !" De Valence having received his credentials, sent Haliburton (a Scottish prisoner, who bought his liberty too dear by such an embassage,) to impart to Sir John Ivlenteith the King of England's proposal. Menteith ■was then castellan of Newark, where he had kept close for many months under a pretence of the re-opening of old wounds; but the fact was, his treasons were con- nected with so many accomplices that he feared some disgraceful disclosure, and therefore kept out of the way of exciting any public attention. Avarice was his master passion ; and his suspicions that there was trea- sure in the iron box which he had, unwitting of such a circumstance consigned to Wallace, first shewed to him his idolatry of gold. His murmurs for having allowed the box to leave his possession, gave the alarm which caused the disasters at Ellerslie and his own im- mediate imprisonment. The lieutenant at Lanark, after the death of Heselrigge, sent Menteith then his prisoner, towards Stirling, for Cressingham to punish according to his pleasure. Sir John made his escape from the party that conveyed him, but in flying through a wood fell into Soulis's hands. That inhuman chief- tain threatened to return him immediately to his dun- geons;, and to avoid such a misfortune, Menteith en- gaged in the conspiracy to bring Lady Helen from the priory to the arms of this monster. On her escape, the infuriate Soulis would have wreaked his vengeance THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 339 on his vile coadjutor by surrendering him to his ene- mies, but Menteith, aware of his design, fled, and fled even into the danger he would have avoided. He fell in with a roaming party of Southrons, who conveyed him to Ayr. His short sojourn with Soulis had plunged his soul deep in guilt. He had once immolated his honour, and he now kept no terms with conscience. Arnulf soon understood what manner of man was i^i his custody ; and by sharing with him the pleasures of his table, and giving him certain divisions of the plunder that was daily brought in, he learnt from him all the information respecting the strength and riches of the country that was in his power to communicate. His after history was a series of treacheries to Scot- land, never discovered ; and in return for them, an ac- cumulation of wealth from England, the contemplation of which seemed to be his sole enjoyment. This new offer of De Valence's was therefore greedily embraced. He happened to be at Rutherglen when Haliburton brought the proposal ; and in the cloisters of its ^°^ church was its fell agreement signed. He transmitted back his oath to De Valence, that he would die or win his hire : — and having dispatched spies to the camp at Roslyn, as soon as he v/as informed of Wallace's disap- pearr.nce he judged from his knowledge of that chief's retentive anections, that whithersoever he intended finally to go, he would first visit Ellerslie and the tomb of his wife. According to this opinion, he planted his emissaries in favourable situations on the road, and then proceeded to intercept his victim at the probable places. Not finding him at Bothwell, he was just issuing forth to take the way to Ellerslie, when the object of his search presented himself at the opening of the wood. Triumphant in his deceit, this master of hypocrisy left the barn in which he had seen Wallace and his young friend lie down on that ground from which ho had determined they should never more arise. Aware that the unconquerable soul of Wallace would never allow himself to be taken alive, he had stipulated with De V^alence that the delivery of his head should entitle him to a full reward. From Rutherglen to Lumloch, 340 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. no place had presented itself in which he thought ht could judiciously plant an ambuscade to surprise the unsuspecting Wallace. But in this village he had sta- tioned so large a force of ruthless savages brought for this purpose, by Halibuiton, from the Irish Island of Rathlin that their employer had hardly a doubt of this night being the last of his too-trusting friend's exist- ence. These Rathliners neither knew of Wallace nov his exploits ; but the lower order of Scots, however they might fear to succour his distress, loved his per- son, and felt so bound to him by his actions, that Menteith durst not apply to any one of them to second his villany. The hour of midnight had passed, and yet he could not summon courage to lead his men to their nefarious attack. Twice they urged him, before he arose from his affected sleep : but guilt had murdered sleefi ! and lie lay awake, restless, and longing for the dav/n : — and yet ere that dawn, the deed was to be accomplished which was to entitle him to half the treasury of King Edward ! A cock crew from a neighbouring farm. " That is the sign of morning, and we have yet done nothing 1" exclaimed a surly ruffian, who leaned on his baUle-axe in an opposite corner of the apartment. " No, it is the signal of our enemy's captivity 1'* cried Ivlenteith, — " Follow me, but gently. If ye speak a word, or a single target rattles before ye all fall upon him, we are lost ! — It is a being of supernatural might, and not a mere man whom you go to encounter. — He that first disables him shall have a double reward." " Depend upon us," returned they ; and stealing cautiously out of the cottage after ^their leader, they advanced with a noiseless step towards the barn. Men- teith paused at the door, making a sign to his men to halt while he listened. — He put his ear to a crevice : not a murmur was heard within. He gently raised the latch, and setting the door wide open, with his finger on his lip, beckoned his followers. They breathlessly approached the threshold. The meridian moon shone full into the hovel, and shed a broad light upon their victims. The innocent face of Edwin rested on the bo- som of his friend, and the arm of Wallace by on the THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. S4i straw -with which he had covered the tender body of his companion. So fair a picture of mortal friendship was never before beheld. But the hearts were blind which looked on it, and Menteith giving the signal, he re- treated out of the door while his men rushed forward to bind Wallace as he lay ; but the first, in his eager- ness, striking his head against a joist in the roof uttered a fierce oath. The noise roused Wallace, whose wakeful senses had rather slumbered than slept, and opening his eyes he sprung on his feet. A moment told him enemies were around. — Seeing him rise, they precipitated themselves forward with imprecations. His eyes blazed like two terrible meteors, and with a sudden motion of his arm he seemed to hold them at a distance, while his god-like figure stood a tower in col- lected might. Awe-struck, the men paused, but it was only for an instant. The sight of Edwin now starting from his sleep, his aghast countenance a«s he felt for his weapons, his cry when he recollected they were gone, inspired the assassins with fresh courage. Battle-axes, swords, and rattling chains, now flashed before the eyes of Wallace. The pointed steel in a hundred places entered his body, while with part of n broken bench whieh chanced to lie near him, he de- fended himself and Edwin from this merciless host- Edwin, seeing nought but the death of his friend flitting before his sight, regardless of himself made a spring from his side and snatched a dagger from the belt of one of the murderers. The ruffian next him instantly caught the intrepid boy by the throat, and in that horrible clutch would in a moment have deprived him of life had not the lion grasp of Wallace seized the man in his arms, and with a pressure that made his mouth burst out with blood, compelled him to forego his hold. Edwin released, Wallace dropped his assail- ant who staggering a few paces, fell senseless to the ground and the instant after expired. The conflict now became doubly desperate. — Edwin's dagger twice defended the breast of his friend. Two of the assassins he had stabbed to the heart " Mur- der that urchui 1" cried Menteith, who observing from without nil tlmt passed, and seeing the carnage of ius rr 2 342 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. men, feared that Wallace might yet make his escape. " Hah !" cried Wallace at tlie sound of Menteith's voice giving such an order; — " Then we are betrayed — but not by heaven — Strike one of you that angel youth," cried he, " and you will incur damnation !" — He spoke to the winds. They poured towards Edwin. Wallace, with a giant's strength, dispersed them as they advan- ced : the beam of wood fell on the heads and struck the breasts of his assailants. Himself, bleeding at every pore, felt not a smart while yet he defended Edwin. But a shout was heard from the door : a faint cry was heard at his side — He looked'^eVind. — Edwin lay ex- tended on the ground with an a%ow quivering in his heart : his closing eyes still looked upwards to his friend. The beam fell from the hands of Wallace. He threw himself on his knees beside him. The dying boy pressed his hand to his heart, and dropped his head upon his bo- som — Wallace moved not, spoke not. His hand v/as bathed in the blood of his friend, but not a pulse beat beneath it; no breath warmed the paralyzed chill of his face as it hung over the motionless head of Edwin. The men, more terrified at this unresisting stillness, than even at the invincible prowess of his arm, stood gazing on him in mute wonder. But Menteith, in whom the fell appetite of avarice had destroyed every perception of humanity, sent in other ruffians with new thongs to bind Wallace. — They approached him with terror: two of the strongest, stealing behind him, and taking advantage of his face being bent upon that of his murdered Edwin, each in the same moment seized his hands. As they griped them fast between both theirs, and others advanced eagerly to fasten the bands, he looked camly up ; but it was a dreadful calm, . it spoke of despair, of the full completion of all woe.— '' Bring chains,'* cried one of the men, " he will burst ^hese thongs." " You may bind me with a hair," said he, " I con- tend no more." The bonds were fastened on his wrists, and then turning towards the lifeless body of Edwin, 3ie raised it gently in his arms. The rosy red of youth yet tinged his cold cheek: his parted lips still beamed >vith a smile^ but the breath that had so sweetly inform- THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 34<5 edthem wasflown. — " O ! my best brotherthat ever I had in the world!" cried he, in a sudden transport, and kis- sing his pale forehead ; " My sincere friend in my greatest need ! In thee was truth, manhood, and noble- ness ; in thee was all man's fidelity, with woman's ten- derness. My friend, my brother, Oh! would to God I had died for thee 1"(P) CHAP. XXXI. XiORD Ruthven had hardly recovered from the shock which the perusal of Wallace's solemn adieu, and the confirmation which the recitals of Grimsby and Hay brought of his determined exile had given to his worth- devoted heart, when he was struck with a new conster- nation by the flight of his son. — A billet, which Edwin had left with Scrymgeour who guessed not its contenis? told his father, that he was gone to seek their friend and to unite himself for ever with his fortunes. Bothwell, not less eager to preserve Wallace to the world, with an intent to persuade him to at least aban- don his monastic project, lost not an hour, but set ofll' from the nearest port direct for France, hoping to ar- rive before his friend, and to engage the French mon- arch to assist in preventing so grievous a sacrifice. Ruthven, meanwhile, fearful that the unarmed Wallace and the self-regardless Edwin, might fall into the hands of the venal v/retches widely dispersed to seize the chief and his adherents, sent out the Lanarkers (eager to embrace the service) in different parties and in di- vers disguises to pursue the roads it was probable he might take, and finding him, guard him safely to the coast. Till Ruthven should receive accounts of their success, he forbore to forward the letter which Wallace had left for Bruce, or to increase the solicitude of the already anxious inhabitants of Hunting-tower, with any intimation of what had happened. But on the fourth day, Scrymgeour and his party returned with the horrible narative of Lumloch. Wallace, after the murder of his youthful friend, had 344 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. been loaded with irons, and was conveyed, so unresist- ingly that he seemed in a stupor, on board a vessel, to be carried immediately to the tower of London, to re- ceive sentence of death. — Sir John Menteith, though he never ventured into his sight, attended as his gaoler and as the false witness who was to put a vizard upon cruelty, and swear away his life. The horror and grief of Ruthven at these tidings were unutterable : and Scrymgeour, to turn the tide of the bereaved father's thoughts to the inspiring recollection of the early glory of his son, proceeded to narrate, that he found the beauteous remains lying in the hovel bedecked with flowers by the village girls, who were weeping over it andlamenting the pityless heart which could slay such youth and loveliness. To bury him in so obscure a spot, Scrymgeour would not allow, and he had sent Stephen Ireland with the sacred corse to Dumbarton, with orders to see him entombed in the chapel of that fortress " It is done," continued the worthy knight, " and those towers he so bravely scaled, will siand for ever the mon- ument of Edwin Ruthven !" This wound had struck deep into the heart of the father. — He felt it in his soul, but he did not complain. ^' Scrymgeour,*' said he '■' the shafts fall thick upon us, but we must fulfil our duty." Cautious of inflicting too heavy a blow on the fortitude of his wife and Helen, he commanded Grims- by and Hay to withhold froiy every body at Hunting- tower the tidings of its young lord's fate ; and then he dispatched them with the letter of Wallace to Bruce, and the dreadful information of Menteith*s treachery. Ruthven ended his short epistle to his wife, by saying he should quickly follow his messenger, but that at pre- sent he had some necessary arrangements to make be- fore he could entirely abandon the Lowlands to the tem- porary empire of the seditious chiefs. On Grimsby's arrival at Hunting-tower he was con- ducted immediately to Bruce. The delirium had only- left him that morning ; and though weak and lying on his couch he was contending with Ercildcun that he should be able to set out for Wallace's camp on the fol- lowing day, when Grimsby entered the room. The countenance of the honest Sovjthron was the harbinger THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. U5 of his news. Lady Helen started from her scat, and Bruce, stretchmg out his arm, eagerly caught the pack- ets which Grimsby presented. Isabella, reading her sister's anxiety in her looks, inquired if all were well with Sir William Wallace ? But ere he could make any answer, Lady Ruthven ran breathlessly into the room with a letter open in her hand which Hay had pre- viously delivered to her. — Bruce had just read the first line which announced the captivity of Wallace, and -with a cry v/hich pierced through the souls of every one present, he made an attempt to spring from the couch, but in the act he reeled, and fell back insensi- ble. The apprehensive heart of Helen guessed some direful explanation : she looked with speechless in- quiry upon her aunt and Grimsby. Isabella and Ercil- doun hastened to Bruce, and Lady Ruthven being too jnuch alarmed in her own feelings to remark the aghast countenance of Helen, made her seat herself, and then read to her from Lord Ruthven's letter the brief but de- cisive account of Wallace's dangerous situation. He- len listened without a woM : her heart seemed locked within her, that it should utter no sound ; her brain was on fire ; and gazing fixedly on the floor, all that was transacted around her passed unnoticed. Insensibility did not long shackle the determined Bruce. The energy of his spirit, struggling to gain the side of his most dear brother in this his extremest need (for he well knew Edward's impiicable soul) roused him from his swoon. — W^ith his extended arms dashing away the restoratives with which both Isabella and Ercildoun hung over him, he would have sprung on the floor had not the latterheld him down. " With- hold me not 1" cried he, with a fierce countenance, " this is not the time for sickness and indulgence. My friend is in the fangs of the tyrant, and shall I lie here ? j ■ — No, not for all the empires in the globe will I be de- ' 'ained another hour." Isabella, affrighted at the furies which raged in his j eyes, but yet more terrified at the perils attendant on his desperate resolution, threw herself at his feet and implored him to stay for her sake. " No," cried Bruce, forgetful of every selfish wish in the sovereign pas- 1 :H6 the SCOTTISH CHIEFS. sion ofhis soul-devoted gratitude to William Wallace, ^ " not for thy life, Isabella, which is dearer to me than my own ! Not to save this ungrateful country from the doom it merits I would I linger one moment from the side of him who has fought, bled, and suffered for mc and mine — who is now treated with ignominy, and ^jentenced to die for my delinquency! — Had 1 consent- ., ed to proclaim myself on my landing, secure with jj Bruce the king, envy would have feared to strike :— I Imt I must first win a fame like his ! — And while I lay 1 Iierc, they tore him from the vain and impotent Bruce ! But, Almighty pardoner of my sins !" cried he with vehemence," grant me strength to wrest him from their " gripe, and I will go bare-foot to Palestine to utter all my gratitude I'* These thoughts created such a tempest in the breast of the prince, that Isabella sunk weeping into the arms of her aunt, and the venerable Ercildoun, wishing to curb an impetuosity which might only involve its gener- ous agent in a ruin deeper than that it sought to re- venge, with more zeal than judgment urged to the prince the danger into which such boundless resent- ment would precipitate his own person. At this inti- mation the impassioned Bruce, stung to the soul that such an argument could be expected to liave any weight with him, solemnly bent his knee and clasping his sword, vowed before heaven " either to release Wallace or *' to share his fate ! he would have ad- ded ; but Isabella, watchful of his words, here sudden- ly interrupted him by throwing herself wildly on his neck and exclaiming — "Oh! say not that! Rather swear to pluck the tyrant from his throne, that the scep- tre of my Bruce may bless England as it will yet do this unhappy land I" " She says right !" ejaculated Ercil- doun in a prophetic transport, " and the sceptre of Bruce, in the hands of his offspring, shall bless the uni- ted countries to the latest generations ! The walls of separation shall then be thrown down, and England and Scotland be one people. "^*i^ Bruce looked stedfastly on the sage : " Then, if thy voice utter wholly verity, it will not again deny my call to wield the power what heaven bestows! I follow THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. t347 niy fate ! To-morrow's dawn sees me in the path to snatch my best treasure, my counsellor, my guide, from the judgment of his enemies: — or, woe to England, and to all of Scotland born who have breathed one hostile word against his sacred life ! — Helen, dost thou hear mc ?'* cried he ; " Wilt thou not assist me to persuade thy too timid sister that her Bruce*s honour, his happi- ness, lives in the preservation of his friend ? Speak to her, counsel her, sweet Helen ; and please the Almigh- ty arm of heaven, I will reward thy tenderness with the return of Wallace !'* Helen gazed intently at him as he spoke. She smil- ed when he ended, but she did not answer, and there was a wild vacancy in the smile that seemed to say she knew not what had been spoken and that her thoughts were faraway. Without further regarding him or any who were present, she arose and left the room. At this moment of fearful abstraction, her whole soul was bent, with an intensity that touched on madness, on the executionof a project which had rushed into her mind in the moment she heard of Wallace's deathful captiv- ity. The approach of night favoured her design. Hur- rying to her chamber ; she dismissed her maids with the prompt excuse that she was ill and desired not to be disturbed till morning: then bolting her door, she quick- ly habited herself in the page's clothes which she had so carefully preserved as the dear memorial of her hap- py days in France, and dropping from her window into the park beneath, ran swiftly through its woody pre- cincts towards Dundee. Before she arrived at the suburbs of Perth, her ten- der feet became so blistered that she found the necessity of stopping at the the first cottage. Her perturbed spi- rits rendered it impossible for her to take rest, and s-he answered the hospitable offer of its humble owner with a request that he would go into the town and immediately purchase a horse to carry her that night to Dundee^ She put her purse into the man's hand as she spoke, and he being willing to serve the young traveller in whatever way he pleased, without further discussion obeyed. When the animal was brought, and the honest 348 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. Scot returned her the purse with its remaining con» ; tents, she divided them with him, and turning from his ' thanks in silence, mounted her horse and rode away. > About an hour before dawn she arrived within view ; of the ships lying in the harbour at Dundee. At thie sight she threw herself off the panting animal which she had urged to its utmost speed, and leaving it to rest and liberty, hastened to the beach. A gentle breeze blew freshly from the north-west, and several vesselsat that moment were heaving their anchors to get under weigh. "Are any," demanded she, "bound for the Tower of London ?" — " None,*' was the reply. Des- pair was now in her heart and gesture. But suddenly recollecting that in dressing herself for her flight she had not taken off the jewels which she usually wore, she exclaimed with renovated hope, " Will not gold tempt you to carry me thither ?" A rough Norwegian sailor jumped from the side of the nearest vessel, and readily answered in the affirmative. " My life," rejoin- ed she, " or a necklace of pearls shall be yours in the moment that you land me at the Tower of London." The man, seeing the youth and agitation of the seem- ing boy who accosted him, doubted his power to per- form so magnificent a promise, and was half inclined to retract his assent ; but Helen pointing to a jewel on her finger as a proof that she did not speak of things beyond her reach, he no longer hesitated, and pledging his word that, wind and tide in his favour, he would land her at the Tower stairs, she, as if all happiness must meet her at that point, sprung into his vessel. The sails were unfurled ; the voices of the men chant- ed forth their cheering responses on clearing the har- bour; and Helen throwing herself along the floor of her little cabin, silently breathed her thanks to God in that prostration of body and soul, for being indeed launched on the ocean whose waves, she trusted, would soon convey her to Wallace. THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 349 CHAP. XXXII. After a tedious procrastination occasioned by seve- ral calno3, on the evening- of the tenth day from the one in which Helen had e»;ibarked on board the little ship of Dundee, it entered on the broad bosom of the Nore. While she sat on the deck watching the progress of the vessel with an eager spirit which would gladly have ta- ken wings to have flown to the object of her voyage, she first saw the majestic waiters of the Thames. But it was a tyrannous iiood to her, and she marked not the diverging shores crowned with palaces, for her eyes looked over every marbled dome to seek the black sum- mits of the Tower. At a certain point the captain of the vessel spoke through his trumpet to summon a pilot from the land. — In a few minutes he was obeyed: and the Englishman taking the helm, Helen reclined on a coii of ropes near him, and listened in wordless attention to a recital which bound up her every sense in that of hearing. The captain, who declared himself a Norwegian by birth, and in consequence of his seafaring life a Scot by appellation only, jested on the present troubles of his adoptive country, and added that he thought any ruler the right who gave him a free course for traffic.^ — In answer to this remark the Englishman, with an obser- vation not very flattering to the Norwegian's estimation of right and wrong, mentioned the capture of the once renowned champion of Scotland, and narrated its con- sequence. Even the enemy, who recounted the par- ticulars, shewed a truth in the recital which shamed the man who had benefited by the patriotism he affect- ed to despise, and for which Sir William 'vVallace was imprisoned and now likely to shed his blood. " I was present," continued the pilot, ^' when the brave Scot was put on the raft which carried him through the traitor's gate into the Tower. H>j hands and feet were bound with iron, but his head, owing to faintness from the wounds he had received atLumloch, was so bent down on his breast as he reclined on the float, that I could not then see his face.— There was a VOL. u G G 550 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. great pause ; for none of us when he did appear 11 sight, could shout over the downfal of so merciful a conqueror. Many were spectators of this scene, whose lives he had spared on the fields of Scotland, and my brother was amongst them. However, that I might have a distinct view of the man who had so long held our warlike monarch m dread, I went to West- minster-hall on the day that he was to be tried. The great judges of the land, and almost all the lords be- sides were there ; and a very grand spectacle they made. But when the hall door was opened, and the dauntless prisoner appeared, then it was that I saw true majesty, King Edward on his throne never looked with such a royal air. His very chains seemed given to be graced by him, as he moved through the parting crowd with the step of one who had been used to have all his accusers at his feet. His head was now erect, and he looked with undisturbed dignity on all around. The Earl of Gloucester, whose life and liberty he had granted at Berwick, sat on the right of the lord chan- cellor. Bishop Beck, the Lords de Valence and Soulis, ■with one Menteith, who it seems was the man that be- trayed him into our hands, charged him with high trea- son against the life of King Edward and the peace of his majesty's realms of England and Scotland. Griev- ous were the accusations brought against him, and bit- ter the revilings with which he was denounced as a traitor too mischievous to deserve any show of mercy. The Earl of Gloucester, who had several times at- tempted to stem the headlong fury of their several de- positions, at last rose indignantly, and in energetic and respectful te^rms implored Sir William Wallace, by the reverence in which he held the tribunal of fature ages, to answer for huiisef. On this adjuration^ brave earl 1** replied he, ^^Iivill.'* ' — O I men of Scotland, what a voice was that ! In it was all honesty and nobleness ; and a murmur arose amongst those who seemed to fear its power, which Gloucester was obliged to check by exclaiming aloud with a stern countenance, — " Silence while Sir William Wallace speaks, or he who disobeys shall be dismissed THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 3.51 the court." A pause succeedeclj and the chieftain, Vvith the godlike majesty of truth> denied the possibility of his being a traitor to Edward, to 'vvhom he never owed any allegiance ; and then, with the same fearlessness, he avowed the facts alleged against him in the accu- sations of the havoc he had made of the English on the Scottish pkiins and of the devastations he had after- wards wrought in the lands of England. " It was q. son," cried he, " defending the orphans of his father from a treacherous friend I It was the sword of restitu- tion, gathering on his fields the harvests he had stolen from theirs !" He spoke more and nobly ; too nobiy* for them who heard him. They rose to a man t« si- lence what they could not confute ; and the sentence of death was pronounced on him ; the cruel death of s^. traitor I^''^ The Earl of Gloucester turned pale on his seat, but the countenance of Wallace was unmoved. As he was led forth I followed, and saw the young Le de Spencer and several other reprobate gallants of our court, ready to receive him. With shameful mockeiy they threw laurels on his head, and with torrents of derision, told him that it was meet they should so sa- lute the champion of Scotland !(s) Wallace glanced on them a look which spoke rather pity than contempt, and with a serene countenance he followed the v,^arden towards the Tower. The hirelings of his accusers loaded him with invectives as he passc:. along : but the people w^io beheld his noble rnien, and who had heard of, and many felt his generous virtues, deplored and wept his hard sentence. To-morrow, at sun-rise, he dies. Helen's face being over-shadowed by the feathers of her hat, the agony of her mind could not have been read in her countenance, had the good Southron been sufficiently uninterested in his story to regard the sympathy of others ; but as soon as the dreadful words *' to-morrow, at sun-rise, he dies," fell on her ear, she started from her seat ; her horror-struck senses appre- hended nothing further, and turning to the Norwegian, ♦' Captain," cried she, " I must reach the Tower this night :" " Impossible," was the reply ; " the tide will not take us up till to-morrow a,t noon," '^' Then the 3^ - THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. waves must !" cried she, and franticly rushinj^ ta^ wards the ship's side, she would have thrown herself into the water had not the pilot caught her arm. " Boy !" said he, ^ are you mad ? your action, your looks — " " No ;" interrupted she, wringing her hands, •' but in the ToAver I must be this nis^ht, or — Oh ! God of mercy, end my misery 1" The unutterable anguish of her voice, countenance, and gesture, excited a sus- picion in the Englishman that this youth was connec- ted with the Scottish chief; and not choosing to even hint his surmise to tlie unfeeling Norwegian, in a dif- ferent tone he exhorted Helen to composure, and of- fered her his own boat which was then towed at the side of the vessel, to take her to the Tower. Helen grasped the pilot's rough hand, and in a paroxysm of gratitude pressed it to her lips ; then, forgetful of her engagements with the insensible man who stood unmoved by his side, sprung into the boat. The Nor- wegian followed her, and in a threatening tone de- manded his hire. She now recollected it, and putting her hand into her vest, gave him the string of pearls which had been her necklace. He was satisfied, and ibe boat pushed off. The cross, the hallowed pledge of her chaste com- TTiUnion with Wallace in the chapel of Snawdoun, and which always hung suspended on her bosom, was now in her hand anu pressed close to her heart. The row- ers plied their oars: and her eyes, with a gaze as if tiiey would pierce the horizon, looked intently onward as the m.en laboured through the tide. Even to see the walls which contained Wallace, seemed to promise her a degree of comfort she dared hardly hope in such an abyss of misery she was fated to enjoy. At last the awful battlements of England'^ state prison rose before her. She could not mistake them. " That is the Tower," said one of the rowers. A shriek es- caped her, and instantly covering her face with her hands, she tried to shut out from her sight those very walls she had so long sought amongst the clouds. They imprisoned Wallace ? He groaned within their confines 1 and their presence puralyzed her heart. " Shull I die before I reach thee, Wallace \" was the THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 353 question which her almost flitting soul uttered as she trembling yet with swift step ascended the stone stairs which led from the water's edge to the entrance of the Tower. She flew through the difi'erent courts to the one in which stood the prison of Wallace. Here she dis- missed the boatman who conducted her, with a ring from her finger as his reward ; and passing a body of soldiers which kept guard before a large porch that led into the vestibule of the dungeons, she entered and found her- self in an immense paved room. A single sentinel stood at the end near an iron door. There then was Wallace ! Forgetting her disguise and situation in the frantic eagerness of her pursuit, she hastily advanced to the man : — " Let me pass to Sir William Wallace,'* cried she, " and treasures shall be your reward I** " Whose treasures ? my pretty page ;" demanded the soldier, " I dare not, v/ere it at the suit of the Coun- tess of Gloucester herself." " 1" cried*'Helen, " For the sake of a greater thai) any countess in thie land, take this jewelled bracelet and let me pass 1" The man, misapprehending the words of this adju* ration, at sight of the diamonds, supposing the page must come from the queen, no longer demurred ; and putfmg the bracelet into his bosom, told Helen that, as he granted this permission at the risk of his life, she must conceal herself in the interior chamber of the prisoner's dungeons should any from the warden visit him during their interview. She readily promised this ; and he informed her, that when through this door she would cross two other apartments, the bolts to the entrances of which she must undraw, and then at the extremity of a long passage she would see a door fastened by a latch which would admit her tc Sir William Wallace. With these words the soldier removed the massy bars, and Helen entered. CHAP. XXXIII. XlELEN's fleet steps carried her in a few minutes through tlve intervening dungeons to the door which gg2 ;^54 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. would restore to her eyes the being with whose lite her existence seemed blended. The bolts had yielded to her hands. The iron latch now gave way, and the ponderous oak grating dismally on its hinges, she look- ed forward, and beheld the object of all her solicitude seated at a stone table, apparently writing. He rais- ed his head at the sound. The peace of heaven was in his eyes, and a smile on his lips as if he had expec- ted an angel visitant. The first glance of him struck to the heart of Hel- en; veneration, anguish, shame, all rushed on her at once. She was in his presence ! but how might he turn from consolations he had not sought ! The intem- perate passion of her step-mother now glared before her: his contempt of the Countess's unsolicited ad- vances, appeared ready to be extended to her rash daughter-in-law ; and with an irrepressible cry, which seemed to breathe out her life, Helen would have fled ; but her failing limbs bent under her, and she fell senseless into the dungeon. Wallace started from his seat. He thought his senses must deceive him, and yet the shriek was Lady Helen's ! He had heard the same cry which had brought him to her side on the Pentland hills; and bending to the inanimate form be- fore him, he took off the plumed hat, and parting the heavy locks which now fell over her face, he recognis- ed the features of her who alone had ever shared his meditations with Marion. He sprinkled water on her face and hasds : he put his cheek to hers ; it was ashy cold; he felt the chill at his heart. "Helen!" ex- claimed he in a voice of alarm, " Helen awake 1 Speak to thy friend I" Still she remained motionless. " Dead !" cried he with increased emotion; "Gone so soon !— Gone to tell Marion that her Wallace eomes. Blessed angel 1'* cried he clasping her to his breast with an energy of which he was not aware. " Take me, take me with thee 1" The pressure, the voice, roused the dormant life of Helen. With a torturing sigh she unsealed her eyes from the death-like load that oppressed them, and found herself in the arms of Wallace. All her wandering senses, >vhich the promulgation THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS, 355 of his danger had dispersed at Hunting-tower and maintained in a bewildered state even to the moment o€ her seeing him in the dungeon, now rallied, and in re- recovered sanity smote her to the soul. Though still overwhelmed with grief at the fate which threatened to tear him from her and life, she now wondered how she could ever have so trampled on the retreating modesty of her nature, as to have brought herself thus into his presence ; and in a voice of horror, of despair, believ- ing that she had for ever destroyed herself in his opin- ion, she exclaimed, " Father of Heaven ! how came I here ? — I am lost, and innocently ; — but who can read the heart !'* She lay in hopeless misery on his breast with her eyes again closed, almost unconscious of the pillow on which she leaned. " Lady Helen," returned he, hardly comprehending her, " was it other than Wallace you sought in these dungeons ? I dared to think that the parent we both adore had sent you hither to be his har- binger of my heavenly consolations 1" Helen, recalled to self-possession by the kindness of these words, turn- ed her head on his bosom, and in a burst of grateful tears hardly articulated, " And will you not abhor me for this act of mudness ? But I was not myself. And yet, where should I live or die, but at the feet of my benefactor V The stedfast soul of Wallace was sub- dued by this language, and the manner of its utterance. It was the disinterested dictates of a pure though agi- tated spirit which, he now was convinced, did most ex- clusively love him, but with the passion of an angel ; and the tears of a sympathy which spoke their kindred natures, stole from his eyes as he bent his cheek on her head. She felt them ; and rejoicing in such an assurance that she yet possessed his esteem, a blessed calm diffused itself over her mind, and raising herself, with a look of virtuous confidence she exclaimed, " Then you do understand me, Wallace ? you pardon me this apparent forgetfulness of my sex, and you re- cognise a true sister in Helen Mar? I may adminis- ter to that noble heart till " She paused, turned deadly pale, and then clasping his hand in both hers to her lips, in bitter agony added « till we meet in he?- ven V 356 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. " And blissful, dearest saint, will be our union there," rerplied he, " where soul meets soul unencumbered of these earthly fetters, and mingles with each other, even as thy tender tear-drops now glide into mine 1 But there, my Helen, we shall never weep. No heart will be left unsatisfied ; no spirit will mourn in jealousy, for that happy region is the abode of love : — of love with- out the defilements or the disquietud-es of mortality ; for there it is an everlasting, p«re er.jo) ment. It is a full diffusive tenderness which, penetrating all hearts, unites the whole in one spirit of boundless love in the bosom of our God !" " Ah I'* cried Helen, throwing herself on her knees in holy enthusiasm ; " Join then your prayers with mine, most revered of friends, that I may be admitted into such blessedness ! Petition our God to forgive me, and do you forgive me, that I have sometimes en- vied the love you bear your Marion ! But I now love her so entirely, that to be her and your handmaid in pa- radise would amply satisfy my soul/' " O ! Helen," cried Wallace, grasping her uplifted hands in his and clasping them to his heart, " thy soul and Marion's are indeed one, and as one Hove yel" This anlooked for declaration almost overpowered Helen in its flood of happiness; and with a smile which seemed to picture the very heavens opening before her, she turned her eyes from him to the crucifix which stood on the table, and bowing her head on its pedestal, was lost in the devotio^i of rapturous gratitude. At this juncture, when, perhaps, the purest bliss that ever descended on woman's heart, now glowed in that of Helen, the Earl of Gloucester entered. His were not visits of consolation ; for he knew that his friend, who had built his heroism on the rock of Chris- tianity, did not require the comfortings of any mortal hand. At sight of him, Wallace, pointing to the kneel- ing Helen, beckoned him into the inner cell where his straw pallet lay ; and there, in a low voice, declared who she was, and requested the earl to use his author- ity to allow her to remain with him to the last. " After that," said he, " I rely on you, generous Gloucester, to convey safely back to her country, a being who seems THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 357 to have nothing of earth about her but the terrestrial body which enshrines her angelic* soul." The sound of a voice speaking with Wallace aroused Helen from her happy trance. Alarmed that it might be the horrid emissaries of the tyrant, come premature- ly to tear him from her, she started on her feet; " Where are you, Wallace :'" cried she looking dis- tractedly around her; "I must be with you even in death I" Wallace, hearing her fearful cry, hastened into the dungeon and relieved her immediate terror by nam- ing the Earl of Gloucester, who followed him. The conviction that Wallace was under mortal sentence, which his beatified representations of the bliss he was going to meet had almost lost in its glories, now rushed upon her with redoubled horrors. This world again rose before her in the person of Gloucester. It reminded her that she and Wallace were not yet passed into the hereafter whose anticipated joys had wrapt her in such sweet elysium. He had yet the bitter cup of death to drink to the dregs ; and all of human weak- ness again writhed in her breast. " And is there no hope ?" cried she, looking earnestly on the disturbed face of Gloucester; " Ah conduct mc to this lawless king I If tears, if a breaking heart can avail, I will kneel be- fore him ; I will die before him ; only let Sir William Wallace live !" "Dearest sister of my soul 1'' cried Wallace, throwing his arms around her agitated figure, " thy knees shall never bend to any less than God, for me ! Did He will my longer pilgrimage on this earth, of which my spirit is already weary, it would not be in the power of any human tyrant to hold me in these bonds. I am content to go, my Helen ; and angels whisper me, that thy bri- dal bed will be William Wallace's grave !'* At this as- surance, she looked upon him with a blush of strange delight; but she spoke nof. Gloucester for a moment contemplated this chaste union of two spotless hearts, with an admiration almost amounting to devotion. " Gentle hidy," said he, " the message that I came to impart to Sir William Wal- lace bears with it a shew of hope ; and I trust that your tender spirit will be as persuasive, as consolatory. A ^58 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. private embassy has just arrived in haste from FrancCj to negotiate with King Edward for the safe::y of our friend as a prince of that realm." I left the embassa- dors," continued he, turning to the Scottish chief, " in Vehement debate with his majesty ; and he has at length granted a suspension of the horrible injustice that was to have been completed to-mo4Tow, until some conditions are replied to by you, on your acceptance of which, he declares, shall depend his compliance with King Philip's demands." " And you will accept them ?" cried Helen, in a tu- mult of wild hope. The communication of Gloucester had made no change in the equable pulse of V/allace ; and he replied, with a look of tender pity upon her ani- mated countenance, " The conditions of Edward are too likely to be snares for that honour which 1 will bear Vi^th me uncontaminated to the grave. Therefore, dearest consoler of my last hours, do not give way to hopes which a greater king than Edward may com- mand me to disappoint." Helen bowed her head in si- lence. The colour again faded from her cheek, and despair once more tugged at her heart-strings. Gloucester resumed ; and after narrating some par- ticulars concerning the conference between the king and the embassadors, (deeming it probable, that should Wallace even finally refuse the terms which would be proposed to him, that the time of the negotiation w^ould at least very much prolong his sojourn in this world ;) he suggested the impracticability of secretly retaining Lady Helen for so long a period in the dungeon with him. " I dare not," continued he, " be privy to such a circumstance and c-.iceal it from the king. I know not what messengers he may send to impart his condi- tions to you ; and should she be discovered, Edward, doubly incensed, would tear her from you ; and as an accessary so involve me in his displeasure, that I must be disabled from serving either of you farther. Were I so far to honour his feelings as a man, as to men- tion it to him, I do not believe that he would oppose her wishes ; but how to reveal such a circumstance with any regard to her fair fame, I know not ; for all are not sufficiently virtuous tp believe h«r spotless inno- THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 359 cence.*' Helen, who summoned all her strength at the intimation which threatened to separate her from Wal- lace, hastily interrupted GlouccsLer, and with firmness said, " When I entered these walls, the world and I parted forever. The good or the evil opinion of the impure in heart can never affect me : — they shall never see me more. The innocent will judge me by them- selves, and by the end of my race. I came here to mi- nister with a sister's duty to my owji and my father*s preserver ; and while he abides here I will never con- sent to leave his feet. When he goes hence, if it be to bless mankind again, I shall find the longest life too short to pour forth all my gratitude ; and for that pur- pose I will dedicate myself in some nunnery of my na- tive land. But should he be taken from a world that is unworthy of him, soon, very soon, shall I cease to feel its aspersions, in the grave.** " No aspersions which I can avert, dearest Helen,** cried Wallace, " shall ever tarnish the fame of one whose purity can only be transcended by her who is now made perfect in heaven ! Consent, noblest of women, to wear for the few days I may yet linger here, a name which thy sister angel has sanctified to me. Give me a legal right to call you mine, and Edward himself will not then dare to divide what God has joined together 1'* Helen attempted to answer, but the words died on the seraphic smile which beamed upon her lips, and she dropped her head upon his breast. Gloucester, who saw no other means of insuring to his friend her society, was rejoiced at this resolution of Wallace ; he had himself longed to propose it, but knew not how to do so with sufficient delicacy ; and reading the consent of Helen in the tender emotioTi which denied her speech, without further delay, as the hour was advancing towards midnight, he quitted the apartment to bring the confessor of the warden to join their hands before he should leave them for the night. On his re-entrance, he found Helen sitting dissolved in tears, with her hand clasped in his friend's. The sacred rite was soon performed, which endowed her with all the claims upon Wallace which her devoted S60 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. heart had so longed sighed after with resigned hope- fulness : — to be his help-mate on earth, his partner in the tomb, his dear companion in heaven ! With the last benediction she threw herself on her knees before him, and put his hand to her lips in eloquent silence. Gloucester with a look of kind farewell vathdrew with the priest. " Thou noble daughter of the noblest Scot!" said Wallace, raising her from the ground, " this bosom is thy place, and not my feet. Long it will not be giren me to hold thee here : but even in the hours of our separation, my spirit will hover near thee, to bear thine to our everlasting home." The heart of Helen alternately beat violently, and paused as if the vital currents were suddenly stopped. Hope and fear agitated her by turns ; but clinging to the flattering prospect which the arrival of the embas- sadors had excited ; and almost believing, that she could not be raised to such a pinnacle of felicity as to be made the wife of Wallace, only to be hurled to the abyss of misery by his instant and violent death ; she timidly breathed a hope that by the present interfe- rence of King Philip, Edward might not be found in- exorable. " Disturb not the holy composure of your soul by such an expectation," returned he, " I know my adver- sary too well to anticipate his relinquishing the object of his vengeance, but at a price more infamous tha'.^ the most ignoble death. Therefore, best beloved of all on earth i look for no deliverance for thy Wallace but what passes through the grave; and to me, dearest He- len, its gates are on golden hinges turning, for all is light and bliss which shines on me from within their courts 1" Helen's thoughts,. in the idea of his being torn from her, could not wrest themselves from the direful images of his execution ; she shuddered, and in falter- ing accents replied, " Ah ! could we glide from sleep into so blessed a death, I would hail it even foiKaee ! But the threatened horrors, should they fall on thy sa- cred head, will, in that h.our, I trust, also divorce my soul from this grievous world 1" THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 361 " Not so, my Helen," returned he ; " keep not thy dear eyes for ever fixed on the gloomy appendages of death. The scaffold and the grave have nought to do with the immortal soul : it cannot be wounded by the one, nor confined by the other. And is not the soul thy full and perfect Wallace ? It is that which now speaks to thee, which will cherish thy beloved idea for ever. Lament not then how soon this body, its mere apparel, is laid down in the dust. But rejoice still in my existence which, through Him who led captivity captive^ will never know a pause. Comfort then thy heart, my soul's dear sister, and sojourn a little while on this earth to bear witness for thy Wallace to the friends he loves 1" Helen, who felt the import of his words in Iier heart? gently bowed her head, and he proceeded : " As the ^ first who stemmed with me the torrent which, with God's help, we so often laid into a calm, I mention to you my faithful Lanarkers. Many of them bled and died in the contest; and to their orphans, with the children of those who yet survive, I coi>sign all the world's wealth that yet belongs to William Wallace: Ellerslie and its estates are theirs. W To Bruce, my sovereign and my friend, the loved companion of the hour in which I freed you my Helen from the arms of violence ! To him I bequeath this heart, knit to him by bonds more dear than even loyalty. Bear it to him ; and when he is summoned to his heavenly throne, then let his heart and mine fill up one urn. To Lord Ruth- ven, to Bothwell, to Scrymgeour, and Kirkpatrick, I give my prayers and blessings." — Here Wallace paused. Helen, who had listened to him with a holy attention which hardly allowed a sigh to breathe from her steadfast heart, spoke; but the voice was scarcely audible : — " And what for Edwin, who loves you dearer than life ? He cannot be forgotten 1" Wallace started at this: then she was ignorant of the death of that too faithful friend I In a hurrying accent he replied, " Never forgotten ! Oh, Helen ! I asked for him life, and heaven gave him long life, even for ever and ever !" Helen's eyes met his with a look of awful inqui- ry: " That would mean, h© is gone before you ?'* TKe VOL.H. HH 362 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. countenance of Wallace answered her. " Happy Ed- win I" cried she, and the tears rained over her cheeks as she bent her head on her arm. Wallace continued ; " Me laid down his life to preserve mine in the hovel of Lumloch. The false Mcnteith could get no Scot to lay hands on their true' defender; and even the foreign ruffians he brought to the task, might have spared the noble boy, but an arrow from the traitor himself pierced his heart. Cont«ntion was then no more, and I resign- ed myself to follow him." " What a desert has the world become 1" exclaimed Helen ; then turning on Wallace with a saintlike smile, she added, " I would hardly now withhold you. You will bear him Helen's love, and tell him how soon I will be with ye. Our Father may not allow my heart to break ; but in his mercy he may take my soul in the prayers which I shall hourly breathe to him!" •*' Thou hast been lent me as ray sweet consolation here, my Helen ;" replied he, " and the Almighty dispenser of that comfort will not long banish you from the object of your innocent wishes." While they thus poured into each others bosoms the ineffable balm of friendship's purest tenderness, the eyes of Wallace insensibly closed. " Your gentle influence," gently murmured he, "brings that sleep to these eye- lids which has not visited them since I first entered these walls. Like my Marion, Helen, thy presence brings healing on its wings." " Sleep, then," replied she, " and her angel spirit will keep watch with mine,' CHAP. XXXIV. Though all the furies of the elements seemed let ioose to rage around the walls of the dungeon, still Wal- lace slept in the loud uproar. Calm was within ; and the warfare of the world could not disturb the balmy rest into which the angel of peace had steeped his senses. From this profound repose he was awoke, just as Helen had sunk into a light slumber, by the entrance of Gloucester. But the first words of the earl aroused THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. Ssa her, and rising, she followed her beloved Wallace to his side. He came by the king's order thus early, to shew his majesty's readiness to comply with the wishes of his royal brother of France. Gloucester put a scroll into the hand of Wallace : — " Sign that," said he, " and you are free. I know not its contents ; but the king com- niissioned me, as a mark of his grace, to be the messen- ger of your i-elease." Wallace read the conditions, and the colour deepened on his cheek as his eye met each article. He was to reveal the asylum of Bruce ; to foreswear Scotland for •ever; and to take an oath of allegiance to Edward, the seal of which should be the English Earldom of Cleave- land ! Wallace closed the parchment. " King Edward knows well what will be my reply ; I need not speak it.*' " You will accept his terms ?" asked the earl. " Not to insure me a life of ages with all earthly bliss my portion ! I have spoken to these offers before. Read them, my noble friend, and then give him as mine the answer that would be yours/' Gloucester obeyed ; and while his eyes were bent on the parchment, those*of He- len were fixed on her almost worshipped husband : she looked through his beaming countenance into his very soul, and there saw thesublime purpose that consigned his unbending head to the scaffold. When Gloucester had finished, covered with the burning blush of shame he crushed the disgraceful scroll in his hand, and ex- claimed with honourable vehemence against the deep duplicity and the deeper cruelty of hfts father-in-law. by such base subterfuges to mock the embassy of France and its noble object. " This is the morning in which I was to have met my fate !" replied Wallace. " Tell this tyrant of the earth, that I am even now ready to receive the last stroke of his injustice. In the peaceful grave, my Helen," added he, turning to her, who sat pale and aghast, " I shall be beyond his power!" Gloucester walked the room, in great disturbance of mind, while Wallace continued in a lower tone his attempts to recal some perception of his consolations to the abstracted and soul-struck Helen. The earl stopped suddenly be- 364 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS-. fore them. " That the king did not expect your acquies- cence without some hesitation, I cannot doubt ; for he told me, when I informed him that the Lady Helen Mar, now your wife, was the sharer of your prison, that should you still oppose yourself to what he called your own interest, I must briiig her to him, as the last means of persuading you to receive his mercy." *' Never 1" replied Wallace, "I reject what he calls mercy. He has no rights of judgment over m* ; and his pretended mercy is an .assumption which, as a true born Scot, I despise. He may rifle me of my life, but he shall never beguile me into any acknowledgment of an authority that is false. No wife, nor ought of mine, with my consent, shall ever stand before him as a sup- pliant for William Wallace. I will die as I have lived, the equal of Edward in all things but a crown : and his superior in being true to the gloiy of prince or pe?;, sant— unblemished honour V* Finding the Scottish chief not to be shaken in this determination, Gloucester, humbled to the soul by the base tyranny of his royal father-in-law, soon after with- drew to acquaint that haughty monarch with the ill- auccess of his embassy. But ere Koon had turned, he re-appeared, with a countenance declarative of some distressing errand. He found Helen awakened to the full perception of ail her pending evils — that she was on the eve of losing for ever, the object dearest to her in this world; and though she wept not, though she lis- tened to the lord of all her wishes with smiles of holy approval, her heart bled within, and with a welcome, which enforced his consolatory arguments, she hailed its mortal pains. " I come," said Gloucester, " not to urge you to send Lady Helen as a suitor to King Edward ; but to spare her the misery of being separated from you while life is yours.*' He then proceeded to relate, that the French embassadors knew not the conditions which -were offered to the object of their mission ; but being informed that he had refused them, they still continue to press their soverign's demands with a power whicii Edward seemed cautious to provoke; and, therefore, as a last proof of his desire to acquiesce in the wishes THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS, 565. of Philip, he told the French lords that he would send his final propositions to Sir William Wallace by that chieftain's wife, who he found was then his cojnpanion in the Tower. " On my intimating," continued the earl, " that I feared she would be unable to appear be^ fore hhn, his answer was :— Let her see to that ; such refusal shall be answered by her immediate separation from her husband.'* "Let me, in this demand," cried she, turning with collected firmness to Wallace. " satisfy che will of Ed- ward, it is only to purchase my continuance with you ; trust me, noblest of men ! I should be unworthy of the name you have given me, could I sully it in my person, by one debasing word or action to the author of all our ills 1" " Ah, my Helen I" replied he, " what is it you ask ? Am I to live to see a repetition of the horrors of EUerslie ?" " No, on my life !" answered Glouces- ter ; " my soul in this instance, I would pledge for King Edward's manhood. His ambition might lead him to trample on all men ; but still for woman, he feels as becomes a man and a knight." Helen renewed her supplications : and Wallace, on the strength of her promise, (and aware, that should he withhold her attendance, that his implacable adver- sary, however he might spare her personal injury, would not forbear wounduig her to the soul by tear- ing her from him,) in pity to her, gave an unwilling consent to what might seem a submission on his part to an authority he had shed his blood to oppose. " But not in these garments" said he, " must my Helen appear " before the eyes of our enemy. She must be habited as becomes her sex and her own delicacy." Anticipating this propriety, Gloucester had impart- ed the circumstance to his countess, and she had sent a box of female apparel, which the earl now brought in from the passage. Helen retired to the inner cell, and hastily arraying herself in the first suit that pre- sented itself, re-appeared in a blue mantle wrapped over her white robes, and her beautiful hair covered with a long veil. As Gloucester took her hand to lead her forth, Wallace clasped the other hand in his, and said, " Remember my Helen, that on no terms but un- bh2 366 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS, trammelled freedom of soul will your Wallace accept of life. This, I know, will not be granted by the man towhorqyou go; therefore, speak and act in his pres- ence, as if I were already beyond the skies." Had this faithful friend, now his almost adoring wife^ left his side with more sanguine hopes, how grievous- ly would they have been blasted ! Edward received her alone. The tender loveliness of her perfect form, and the celestial dignity which seemed to breathe in all her words and movements, at first struck him with that admiration and awe which he had been accustomed to feel towards the eminently beautiful of her sex ; but the domineering passion of his soul soon put to flight these gentle respects ; and finding that the noble spirit of Helen rose above the proud demands he urged her to enforce on her hus- band, he gave way to the violence of his resentment, and with many invectives against the rebellious obsti- nacy of Wallace, painted to her in all its horrible de- tails the punishment he was doomed to suffer. Then, when he saw her transfixed in mute despair, and lean- ing against a pillar, as if ready to sink under the blow he had given her, he expatiated on the years of happi- ness and splendour which should await her husband, would he accept his conditions. " Counsel him, laJ.y;*' repeated he, " to reveal to me the hiding-place of Ro- bert Br^^ce : and that he does so, shall e^er be a secret between us. Let him bind bis faith to me by the oath of allegiance, and I will make him as the right hand of my throne. And for you, romantic woman, if you will awake to your own true interest and bring him to the same conviction, all the honours which I would have bestowed on you as the Countess of Aymer de Va- lence, shall be redoubled as the wife of my Earl of Cleveland !" " Mortal distinctions, King of England !" replied she, summoning all the strength of her soul to give utter* ance to her answer, " cannot bribe the wife of Sir Wil- liam Wallace to betray his virtues. His life is dear to me, but his immaculate faith to his God and his law- ful prince, are dearer. I can see him die, and smile ;— for I shall join him triumphant in heaven ;«— but to be- THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 367 hold him dishonour himself! to counsel him so to do, is beyond my power ; I should expire with grief in the shameful moment." " And this is your proud reply, madam ?'* " I can give no other." " Then be his blood upon your head, for you have pronounced his doom !" The words struck like the bolt of death upon her heart. She reeled, and fell senseless on the floor. She awoke to recollection, lying on a couch, with a lady weeping over her. It was the Countess of Glou- cester. When the king perceived the state into which his headlong fury had cast the innocent victim of his wrath against Wallace, and as he wished to keep these negotiations respecting that chief a secret from the nation, he called his daughter, the compassionate wife of Gloucester ; and while he gave his final orders to the earl, left her to recover the unhappy Lady Helen. Eager to be restored to him from whom she knew she must now so soon be most cruelly separated, He- len, without regarding who might be the benevolent lady that attended her, started from the couch, and implored to be immediately taken back to the Tower. The Coun- tess quieted her terrors that Edward meant to detain her ; and telling her who she was, soon after withdrew to see if the earl was released by the king and ready to re-conduct his charge to her husband. A long hour was now passed in solitude, during which Helen suffered the dreadful agonies of a mind torn be- tween suspense of again being with Wallace, and the horrible certainty of his impending fate. At last, even in the moment when her impatience had precipitated her into the resolution of finding her way from the pa- lace alone, the Earl of Gloucester entered the room: — . his countess was too much overcome by the scene she had witnessed, again to look on the youthful wife of the hero who was so soon to leave her the most bereaved of widows : — and Helen, rushing towards the earl, hard- ly articulated in a cry of phrenzied joy, " Take me hence 1" — and giving him her hand, spoke not till she was again clasped in the arms of Wallace. 368 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. " Here will I live ! Here will I die I" cried she. in a passion of tears ; " they may sever my soul from my body, but never again part me from this dear bo- €om I'* " Never, never, my Helen 1" said he, reading her conference v/ith the king, in the wild terror of its effects. Her senses seemed fearfully disordered, as she clung to him, and muttered sentences of such in- coherency that shook him to the soul, he cast a look of such expressive inquiry upon Gloucester, that the earl could only answer by hastily putting his hand on his face to hide his own emotion. At last the tears she shed appeared to relieve the excess of her agonies, and she gradually sunk into an awful calm. Then rising from her husband's arms she seated herself on the stone bench and said in a firm voice, " Earl, lean now bear to hear you repeat the last decision of the King of Eng- land.'* " Dearest lady," returned he, " to convince your suffering spirit that no earthly means have been left unessayed to change the unjust purpose of the king, know that I left in his presence the queen and my wife both weeping tears of disappointment. On the mo- ment when 1 found that arguments could no longcj avail, I implored him by every consideration of God and man to redeem his honour, sacrificed by the unjust decree pronounced on Sir William Wallace . My en- 'reaties were repulsed with anger, for the sudden en- trance of Lord Athol with fresh fuel to his flame, so confirmed his direful resolution, that, desperate for my friend, I threw myself on my knees. The queen, and then my wife, both prostrate at his feet, enforced my suit, but all in vain : his heart seemed hardened by our earnestness ; and his answer, while it put us to si- lence, granted Wallace a triumph even in his chains. ■' Cease 1" cried he, " Wallace and I have now come to ihat issue that one must fall. I shall vise my advan- tage, though I should walk over the necks of half my kindred to accomplish his fate. I can find no security on my throne, no peace in my bed, until I know that he, my direst enemy, is no more !" " Sorry am I, generous Gloucester," interrupted Wallace, " that for my life you have stooped your knep THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 369 to one so unworthy of your nobleness. Let, then, his tyranny take its course. But its shaft shall not reach the soul his unkingly spirit hopes to wound. lie may dishonour my body, may mangle these limbs, but Wil- iiam Wallace will then be far beyond his reach V Gloucester gazed on him, doubting the inspired ex- pression of his countenance. '' Surely," said he^ " my unconquered friend will not now be forced to self-vio- lence : " — " No," returned Wallace, " suspect me not of such base vassalage to this poor tabernacle of clay. Did I believe it my Father's will that I should die at every pore, I would :.ubmit. For so his immaculate Son laid down his life for a rebellious world ! — And is d servant greater than his master, that I should be ex- empt from this trial ? — But I await his summons, and he whispers to my soul that the rope of Edward shall never make this free-born neck feel its degrading touch.'* Helen, with re-awakened horror, listened to the words of Wallace, which referred to the last outrage to be committed on his sacred remains. She recalled the corresponding threats of the king, and again losing self-possession, starting wildly up, she exclaimed, " And is there no humanity in his ruthless heart ! — Am I to be deprived of O 1" cried she, tearing her eyes from the beloved form on which they too fondly doted, " let the sacrifice of my life be offered to this cruel man, to save from indignity " She could add no more, but dropt half fainting on the arm of Wallace. Gloucester understood the object of such anguished solicitude, and while Wallace again seated her, he re- vived her by tlie assurance that the clause she so ft .'.r- fully deprecated, had been repealed by Edward. But the good earl blushed as he spoke, for in this instance he said what was not the truth. F'ar different had been the issue of all his attempts at mitigation. The arrival of Athol from Scotland v/ith advices from the Countess of Strathearn, that Lady Helen Mar hud lied southward to raise an insurrection in favour of Wallace, ami that Lord Bothwell had gone to France to move Philip to embrace the same cause, precipitated Edward to com- mand the instant and full execution of that sentence he 370 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. was previously determined not to abrogate. It wa^ merely to satisfy the French embassadors of his desire to accord with their master's wish, that he devised the mockery of sending the articles of pardon to Wallace, which he well knew would be rejected. And his inter- view with Lady Helen, though so intemperately con- ducted, was dictated by the same subtle policy. When on the representations of Lord Athol, Glouces- ter found the impossibility of obtaining any further re- spite of the murderous decree, he attempted to prevail for the remission of the last clause, which ordered, that his friend's noble body should h?. dismembered and his limbs sent as terrors to rebellion, to the four capital fortresses of Scotland. Edward spurned at this peti- tion with even more acrimony than he had done the prayer for his victim's life ; and Gloucester then start- ing from his knee, in a burst of honest indignation, ex- claimed, " Oh ! king, remember what is done by thee this day ! Refusing to give righteous judgment in fa- vour of one who prefers virtue to a crown and life ! as insincere as secret have been your last conditions with him; but they will be revealed when the great judge that searcheth all men's hearts shall cause thee to an- swer for this matter at the dreadful day of universal doom. Thou hast now given sentence on a patriot and a prince ; and then shall judgment be given on thee 1'' " Dangerous, indeed, is his rebellious spirit," cried Edward, in almost speechless wrath, " since it affects even the duty of my own house I Gloucester, leave my presence ; and on pain of your own death, dare not to approach me till 1 send for you to see this rebel's head on London bridge !" To disappoint the revengeful monarch of at least this object of malice, Gloucester was now resolved ; and imparting his wishes to the warden of the Tower, his trusty friend, he laid a plan accordingly. Helen believed his declaration to her, and bowed her head in sign that she was satisfied with his zeal. The earl, addressing Wallace, continued, " Could I have purchased thy life, thou preserver of mine ! with the forfeiture of all I possess, I should have rejoiced in the exchange. But as that may not be, is there aught THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 371 an the world which I can do to admmister to thy wishes?" " Generous Gloucester 1" exclaimed Wallace, "how unwearied has been your friendship! But I shall not tax it much farther. I was writing my last wishes, when this angel entered my apartment: she will now be the voice of William Wallace to his friends. But still I must make you one request, and one which I trust will not be out of your power. Let this heart, ever faithful to Scotland, be at least buried in its native coun- try. — V/hen I cease to breathe, give it to Helen, and sh€ will mingle it with the sacred dust of those I love. For herself, dear Gloucester ! ah ! guard the vestal purity and life of my best beloved, for ihere are those who, when I am gone, may threaten both." Gloucester, who knew that Wallace meant the Lords Soulis and De Valence in this apprehension, pledged himself for the performance of his first request ; and for the second, he assured him that he would protect Helen as a sister. But she, regardless of all other evils than that of being severed from her dearest and best friend, exclaimed in bitter sorrow, "Wherever I am, still, and for ever, shall all of Wallace that re- mains on earth be with me. He gave himself to me, and no mortal power shall ev-er divide us !" Gloucester could not reply before the voice of the warden, calling to him that the hour of the ^^ates being shut was arrived, compelled him to bid his friend fare- v/ell. He grasped the hand of Wallace with a stroitg emotion ; for he knew that the next time he should meet him would be on the scaffold. During the mo- ments of this parting, Helen, with her hands clasped on her knees, and her eyes bent downwards, inwardly and earnestly invoked the Almighty to endow her with for- titude to bear the horrors she was to witness, that she Hiightnot,by her agOnies,addto the tortures of Wallace. The cheering voice that was ever music to her ears^ recalled her from this devout abstraction. He laid his hand on hers, and held such sweet discourse with her, on the approaching end of all his troubles, of his ever- lasting beatitude, that she listened and wept, and even smiled. « Yes," added he, " a little while, and my vir- 372 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. gin bride shall give me her clear embrace in heaven , and my Marion's generous soul will join the blest com- munion ! — She died to preserve my life : — you suffered a living death to maintain ray honour ! Can 1 then di- vide ye, noblest of created beings, in my soul I Take then, my heart's dear Helen, thy Wallace's last earthly kiss 1" She bent towards him and fixed her lips to his. It was the first time they had met; his parting w^ords still hung on them, and an icy cold ran through all her veins. " I have not many hours to be with thee, and yet a strange drowsiness overpowers my senses; but I shall speak to thee ageiin I" He looked up as he spoke, with such a glance ci]^]y love, that not doubting he was now bidding her indeed his last farewell ; that he was to pass from this sleep out of the power of man; she pressed his hand without a word, and as he dropt his head upon her lap, with an awed spirit she saw him sink to pro- found repose. CHAP. XXXV. XjONG and silently had she watched his rest. So gen- tle was his breath, that he- scarcely seemed to breathe ; and often, during her sad vigils did she stoop her cheek to feel the respiration which bore witness that his out- raged spirit was yet fettered to earth. She tremblingly placed her hand on his heart ; but still its warm beats spake comfort to hers. The soul of Wallace, as well as his beloved body, was yet clasped in her arms. ^' The arms of a true sister enfold thee," murmured she to herself, " and would bear thee up, to lay thee on the bosom of thy martyred wife ; and there, how wouldst thou smile upon and bless me !" The first rays of the dawn should upon his peaceful face, just as the door opened and a priest appeared. He held in his hands the sacred cup, and the chalice for performing the rites of the dying. At this sight, the harbinger of a fearful doom, the fortitude of Helen for- sook her; i-nd throwing her arms franticly over the sleeping Wallace) she exclaimed, " He is dead ! Ms THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 373 sacrament is now with the Lord of Mercy 1" — Her voice awakened Wallace ; he started from his position : and Helen, (seeing that he, whose gliding to death in his sleep she had so lately deprecated, now indeed lived to mount the scaffold ;) in unutterable horror, fell back with a heavy groan. Wallace having accosted the priest with a reveren- tial welcome, turned to Helen, and tenderly whispered her, " Let not the completion of my fate, dearest half of myself! shake your dependance on the only True and Just. Rejoice that Wallace has been deemed worthy to die for his virtues. And what is death, my Helen, that we should shun it even to rebelling against the Lord of Life ? — Is it not the door which opens to us im- mortality ? and in that blest moment, who will regret that he passed th"ough it in the bloom of his years ?-— Come then, sister of my soul, and share with thy Wal- lace the last supper of his Lord ; the pledge of the hap- py eternity to which, by his grace, I now ascend 1" Helen, conscience-struck, and re-awakened to holy confidence by the heavenly composure of his manner, obeyed the impulse of his hand; and they both knelt together before the minister of peace. As the sacred tight proceeded, it seemed the indissoluble union of Helen's spirit with that of Wallace : — " My life will expire with hisl" was her secret response to the venerable man's exhortation to the passing soul ; and as he sealed Wallace? with the holy cross under the last unction ; as one who believed herself standing on the brink of eternity, she longed to share also that mark of death. At that moment the dismal toll of a bell sounded from the top of the Tower. The heart of He- len paused. The warden and his train entered. " I will follow him,*' cried she, starting from her knees ; " into the grave itself'" What was said, what was done, she knew not, till she fouid herself on the scaffold upheld by the arm of Gloucester. Wallace stood before her with his hands bound across, and his noble head uncovered. His eyes were turned upwards with a godlike confidence in the power he served. A silence, as of some desert waste, reigned throughout the thousands who stood below. VOL. 11. II Z74 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. The executioner approached to throw the rope over the neck of his victim. At this sight, Helen, with a cry that was re-echoed by the compassionate spectators, rushed to his bosom. Wallace, with a mighty strength, burst the bands asunder which confined his arms, and clasping her to him with a forc,e that seemed to make her touch his very heart; his breast heaved, as if his sou^ were breaking from its outraged tenement, and while his head sunk on her neck he exclaimed in a low and interrupted voice — " My prayer is heard !— . Helen, we shall next meet to part no more. May God preserve my country, and — '* He stopped. The strug- gle was over in his bosom : — all there was still. She laid her hand on his heart; it beat no more. In a glow of grateful exultation, she half rose from his breast, and putting back the executioner with her hand, cried aloud, " He is gone ! your cruelties cannot now reach him 1'* and then sunk again upon his bosom. The executioner, believing her Avords the mere excla- mation of frantic grief, attempted to reason with her on the fruitlessness of thus impeding the course of justice: he expostulated, he threatened; but she re- turned no answer. Gloucester, in an agitation which hardly allowed him power to move or speak, and yet determined not to desert his friend in his last extremi- ty, drew near, and whispered Wallace to yield her to him. But all was silent there I He then remembered the words which Wallace had said, That the rope of Edward should never sully his animate body. He raised the chieftain's head, and looking on his face, found indeed the indisputable stamp of death. " There,'* cried he, in a burst of grief, letting it fall again upon the insensible bosom of Helen ; " There broke the noblest heart that ever beat in the breast of man !" The priests,, the executioners, crowded round him at this declaration. But giving a command in a low tone to the warden, he took the motionless Helen in his arms, and carried her from the scaffold back into the Tower. THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 375 CHAP. XXXVI. o N the evening of the fatal day in which the sun of Wallace set for ever on his country, the Earl of Gloucester was giving his latest directions for the night to the warden of the Tower, when the door of the chamber was suddenly burst open by a file "f sol* diers. A man in armour, with his visor closed, was in the midst of them. The captain of the band told the warden that the stranger before him had behaved in a most seditious manner. He had denjanded admittance into the Tower ; and on the sentinel to whom he spoke, answering that, in consequence of the execution of Sir William Wallace, orders had been issued " that no strangers should enter the gates until the following morning," he asked seme questions relative to the con- demnation of the Scottish chief; and finding that the sentence of the law had been executed to the utter- most, he burst into a pr.ssionate emotion, and uttered such threats against the King of England that the cap- tain thought it his duty to have him seized and Ibrought before the warden. On the entrance of the soldiers, Gloucester had re- tired from observation into the shadow of the room. He turned anxiously round on hearing these particu- lars. The stranger, who stood in the midst, when the captain ceased speaking, fearlessly threw up his visor, and exclaimed, " Take me not to your warden alone, but to your king ; and there let me pierce his con- science with his infamy — aye, and stab him, ere I die !» In this frantic adjuration, Gloucester discovered the gallant Bruce. And hastening towards him to prevent his apparently determined exposure of him- self; with a few words he dismissed the officer and his guard ; and then turning to the warden, " Sir Edward," said he, " This stranger is not less my friend than he was that of Sir William Wallace 1" " Then far be it from me, earl, to denounce him to our enraged mon- arch. 1 have seen noble blood enough already ; and 376 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. though we, the subjects oi" King Edward, cannot call your late friend a martyr, yet we must think his coun- try honoured in so steady a patriot , and may surely wish we had many the like in our own !"(") The worthy old knight, judging that Gloucester would de- sire to be left alone with the stranger, with these words bowed and Avithdrew. Bruce, who had hardly heard the observation of the warden, on his departure turned upon the earl, and with a bursting heart, exclaimed, " Tell me, is it true ? Am I so lost a wretch as to be deprived of my best, my dearest friend ? Answer me to the fact, that I may speedily take my course !" Gloucester, alarmed at the direful expression of his countenance, with a quiv- ering lip, but in silence, laid his hand upon his arm. Bruce too well understood what he durst not speak ; and shaking it off franticly, " I have no friend 1" cried he, " Wall .^ce 1 my brave and only Wallace, thou art rifled from me ! And shall I have fellowship with these ? — No ; all mankind are my enemies ; and soon will I leave their detested sojourn !" Gloucester at- tempted to interrupt him ; but he broke out afresh and with redoubled violence ; — " And you, earl," cried he, " lived in this realm, and suffered such a sacrilege on God's most perfect work ? Ungrateful, worthless man ! fill up the measure of your baseness : deliver me to Edward ; and let me brave him to his face. Oh I let me die covered with the blood of thy enemies, my murdered Wallace ! my more than brother! and that shall be the royal robes thy Bruce will bring to thee 1" Gloucester stood in dignified forbearance under the invectives and stormy grief of the Scottish prince ; and when exhausted nature seemed to take rest in momen- tary silence, he approached him. Bruce cast on him a lurid glance of suspicion. " Leave me," cried he, " I hate the whole world; and you the worst in it, for you might have saved him, and you did not; you might have preserved his sacred limbs from being made the gazing stock of traitors, and you did not : — away from me, apt son of a tyrant I lest I tear you piece-meal 1" " By the heroic spirit of him whom this outrage on me dishonours, hear my answer, Bruce ! And if not on this THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. srT spot, let me then exculpate myself by the side of his body yet uninvadedby a sacrilegious touch. — " How t'* interrupted Bruce with less harshness, and looking doubtingly. Gloucester continued : " All that was mortal in our friend, now lies in a distant chamber of this quadrangle. When I could not prevail on Edr ward, either by entreaty or reproaches, to remit this last gloomy vengeance of tyrants, I determined to wrest its object from his hands. A notorious murde- rer died yesterday under the torture. By the assist- ance of the warden, after th^ inanimate corse of oui' friend was brought into this house to be conveyed to the scene of its last horrors, the malefactor's body was placed on the sledge in its stead ; and on that murde- rer most justly fell the rigour of that dreadful sen- tence." The whole aspect of Bruce changed during this ex- planation, which was followed by a brief account of their friend's heroic death. " Can you pardon my mad reproaches to you ?" cried he, stretching out his hand; a Forgive, generous Gloucester, the distraction of a severely wounded spirit!" This pardon was imme- diately accorded ; and Bruce impetuously added, " Lead me to these dear remains, that with redoubled certainty I may strike this steel deep into his murde* rer's heart ! I came to succour him ; I now stay to die, — ^but not vmrevenged !" "I will lead you," return- ed the earl, " where you shall learn a difierent lesson. His soul will speak to you by the lips of hisbride, now watching by his sacred relics." A few words gave Bruce to understand that he meant Lady Helen Mar ; and with a deeper grief, when he heard in what an aw- ful hour their hands were plighted, he followed his conductor through the quadrangle. When Gloucester gently opened the door which contained the remains of the bravest and the best, Bruce stood for a moment on the threshold. At the further end of the apartment, lit only by a solitary lamp, lay the body of W^allace on a bier, covered with a soldier's cloak. Kneeling by its side, with her head on its bosom, was Helen. Her hair hung disordered over her shoulders and shrouded with its dark Iockf> II 2 S78 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. the marble features of her beloved. Bruce scarcely breathed. He attempted to advance, but he staggered, and fell. She looked up at the noise; but her momen- tary alarm ceased when she saw Gloucester. He spoke in a tender voice : " Be not agitated, lady; but here is the Earl of Carrick." " Nothing can agitate me more," replied she, turn- ing mournfully towards the prince, w^ho, raised from, the floor by Gloucester, and opening his eyes, beheld lier regarding him with a look as of one already an in- habitant of the grave. — i' Helen!" faintly articulated Bruce, approaching her ; " I come to share your sor- rows ; and to Jo more, to avenge them." " Avenge them !" repeated she, after a pause ; " Is there aught in vengeance that will awaken l^fe in these cold veins again ? Let the murderers live in the world they have made a desert by the destruction of its brightest glo- ry ; — and then our home will be his tomb !" Again she bent her head upon his breast, and seemed to for- get that she had been spoken to, that Bruce was pre- sent. " May I not look on him ?" cried he, grasping her hand ; " O ! Helen, show me that heroic face from whose beams my heart first caught the fire of virtue 1" She moved, and the clay-cold features of all that was ever perfect in manly beauty, met his sight. But the bright eyes were shut : the radiance of his smile was dimmed in death ; yet still that smile was there. Bruce precipitated his lips to his; and then sinking on his knees, remained in a silence only broken by his sighs. It was an awful, and a heart-breaking pause ; for the voice which, in all scenes of weal or woe, had ever mingled sweetly with theirs, M^as silent. Helen, who had not wept since the tremendous hour of the morn- ing, now burst into an agony of tears which seemed to threaten the extinction of her being. Bruce, aroused by her smothered cries as she lay almost expiring up- held by Gloucester, hurried to her side. By degrees she recovered to life and observance ; but finding her- self removed from the bier, she sprung wildly towards it. Bruce caught her arm to support her yet totteripg THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 379 steps. She looked steadfastly at him, and then at the motionless body. " He is there !" cried she, " and yet he speaks not ! — He sooths no^ my grief — I weep, and he does not comfort me ! — And there he lies I O 1 Bruce, can this be possible ? Do I really see him dead ?-'— And what is death ?" added she grasping the cold hand of Wallace to her heart ; " Diclst thou not tell me, when this hand pressed mine and blessed me, that it was only a translation from grief to joy ! — And is it not so, Bruce ? Behold how we mourn, and he is happy ! — I will obey thee, my immortal Wallace i" cried she, casting her arms about him, and placing her cheek to his ; " I will obey thee, and weep no more 1'* She was silent and calm. And Bruce, kneeling on the opposite side of his friend, listened without inter- ruption to the arguments which Gloucester adduced, to persuade him to abstain altogether from discover- ing himself to Edward, or uttering his resentments against him, till he could do both as became the man for whom Wallace had sacrificed so much, even till he was King of Scotland. " To that end," said Glou- cester, " did this gallant chieftain live. For, in resto- ring you to the people of Scotland, he believed he was setting a seal to their liberties and peace. To that end did he die, and in the direful moment, uttered prayers for your establishment. Think then of this ; and let him not look down from his heavenly dwelling and see that Bruce despises the country for which he bled, that the now only hope of Scotland is sacrificed in a moment of inconsiderate revenge to the cruel hand which broke his dauntless heart !" Bruce did not oppose this counsel, but in propor- tion as the f nes of passion passed away, and left a manly sorrow and determination of revenge in his soul, he listened with approbation, and finally resolved, whatever violence he might do his nature, not to allow Edward the last triumph of finding him in his power. The earl's next essay was with Helen. He feared that a rumour of the stranger's indignation at the late execution, and that the Earl of Gloucester had taken him in charge, might, when associated with the fact th^t the widow of Sir William Wallace also remained 380 THE searTTisH chiefs. under his protection, awaken some suspicion; and di- rect investigations, too likely to discover the imposi- tion he had put on the executioners of the last clause in his royal father's most iniquitous sentence. He there- fore explained his new alarm to Helen, and conjured her, if she would yet preserve the hallowed remains before her from any chance of violence, (which her lingering near them might induce, by attracting notice to her movements,) she must consent almost imme- diately to leave the kingdom. The valiant and ever faithful heart of Wallace should be her companion ; and an English captain, who had partaken of his cle- mency at Berwick, should be her trusty conductor to her native land. To bear away every objection, before she returned any answer , he added, that Bruce should be protected by him with strict fidelity, till some safe opportunity should offer for his taking to Scotland the sacred corse, which must ever be considered as the most precious relic in that country. " As heaven wills the trial of my heart," returned she, " so let it be 1" and bending her head on the dear pillow of her rest, the bosom which, cold and de- serted as it was by its heavenly habitant, was still the bosom of her Wallace, the temple, rendered sacred by the footsteps of a God ! — For, had not virtue and Wallace dwelt there ? and where virtue is, there abides the spirit of the holy one ! She passed the re- mainder of the night in vigils, which were not less devoutly maintained by the chastened heart of the Prince of Scotland. CHAP. XXXVH. X HE tidings c^ the dreadful vengeance which Edward had taken against the Scottish nation, by pour- ing all his wrath upon the head of Wallace, whose on- ly offence was known to be that of having served his country too faithfully, struck like the lightning of hea- ven through the souls of men. The English tixnied THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 38! blushing from each other, and ventured not to breathe the name of a man whose virtues seemed to have found him a sanctuary in every honest heart. But when the news reached Scotland, the indignation was general. All envyings, ail strife were forgotten in unqualified resentment of the deed. There had not been a man, even amongst the late refractory chieftains, except- ing the Cummins, and their coadjutors Soulis andMen- teith, who believed that Edward seriously meant to sentence the patriot Wallace to a severer fate than that which he had pronounced against his rebellious vassal, the exiled Baliol. His execution, (for none but those who were in the confidence of Gloucester knew that heaven had snatched him from the disho- nour of so vile a death,) was therefore so unexpected, that ^e first promulgation of it excited such ah ab- horrence of the perpetrator in every breast, that the whole country rose as one man, and threatened to march instantly to London, and sacrifice the tyrant on his throne. At this crisis, when the mountains of the north seem- ed heaving from their base to overwhelm the blood-stain- ed fields of England, every heart which secretly rejoiced in the late sanguinary event, quailed within its pos- sessor as he tremblingly awaited the moment when the consequences of the fall of Wallace should prove the ruin of his enemies.— -At this instant, when the furies armed every clan in Scotland, Kirkpatrick, at the head of a band of Wallace*s old soldiers, breathing forth revenge like a consuming fire before them, led the way to the general destruction of Edward's newly es- tablished power in the country. John Cummin, the Regent, stood aghast. He foresaw his own downfal in this re-awakened enthusiasm for the man whom his treachery, or pusillanimity, all saw had been the first means of betraying to his enemies. Baffled in the aim of his own ambition, by the very means he had taken to efi'ect it, he saw no alternative but to throw himself at once upon the bounty of England ; and to this pur- pose he bethought him of the only chance of preserv- ing the power of Edward, and consequently his own, in Scotland. Knowing by past events, that this tern- 382 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. pest of the soul, excited by remorse in some, and gra- titude in others, could only be maintained to any con- clusive injury to England by a royal hand ; and that that hand was expected to be Bruce's ; he determined at once, that the prince to whom he had sworn fealty, and to whom he owed his present elevation, should follow the fate of his friend. By the spies v.hich he constantly kept round Hunting-tower, he was ap- prized that Bruce had set off towards London in a vessel from Dundee ; and on these grounds he sent a dispatch to King Edward, informing him that destiny had established him supreme lord of Scotland, for now its second and its last hope had put himself as it w^ere into his hands. With this intelligence ho gave a particular account of all Bruce's proceedings, from the time of his meeting him wiih Wallace in France, to his present following that chief to London. He then craved his majesty's pardon for ever having been betrayed into an union with such conspirators, and repeated his hope that the restitution he made in thus showing him_ where to find his last opponent, would fully convince him of his penitence and duty. He closed his letter by urging the king to take in- stant and effectual measures to disable Bruce from disturbing the quiet of Scotland, or ever again clispu- ang his royal claims. Gloucester was in the presence when this epistle was delivered in and read by his majesty. On the suit of his daughter, Edward had been reconciled to his son-in-law ; but when he showed to him the con- tents of Cummin's letter, with a suspicious smile he said in a low voice, " In case you should know any thing of this new rebel's lurking place, you leave not this room till he is brought before mc. See to your obedience, Hugh, or your head shall follow Wal- lace's." The king instantly withdrew : and the earl, aware that search would most probably be made through all his houses, sought in his own mind for some expedi- ent to apprize Bruce of his danger.— To write in the presence-chamber was impossible : to deliver a mes- sage in a whisper would be very hazardous, for most THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. S83 tif the surrounding courtiers saw the frown with which the king had left the apartment, and marked the com- mands he gave the marshal : " See that the Earl of Gloucester quits not this room till I return." The earl, in the confusion of his thoughts, turned his eye on Lord Montgomeiy, who had only arrived that very morning from ?n Embassy to Spain. He had heard with unuUerable horror the fate of Wal- lace ; and extending his interest in him to those whom he loved, he had arranged with Gloucester to accompany him that very evening to pledge his friend- ship to Bruce. To Montgomery, !.hen, as to the only man acquainted vvith his secret, he turned ; and tak- ing his spurs off his feet, and pulling out a purse of gold, he said aloud, and with as easy an air as he could assume, -' Here, my Lord Montgomery ; as you are going directly to Highgate, I will thank you to call at m.y lodge, and put these spurs and this purse into the hands of the groom vve spoke of; he will know what use to make of them." He then turned negligently on his heel, and Montgomery quitted the apartment. The apprehension of this young lord was not less quick than the invention of his friend. He guessed that the Scottish prince was beti^ayed ; and to l^ender his escape the less likely to be traced, (the ground being wet and liable to retain impression,) before he went to the lodge he dismovmted in the adjoining wood, and with his .own hands reversed the iron on the feet of the animal he had provided for Bruce. He then proceeded to the house, and found the object of his mission disguised as a priest, and in the chapel paying his vesper adorations to the Almighty Being on whom his whole dependance hung. Uninfluenced by the robes he wore, his was the devotion of the soul : and not unaptly at such an hour came one to deliver him from a danger which, unknown to himself, was then v/ithin a few minutes of seizing its prey. Montgomery entered, and being instantly recog- nized by Bruce, the ingenuous prince, never doubting a noble heart, stretched out his hand to him — "I " take it," returned the earl, « only to give it a part- 384 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. ing* grasp. Behold these spurs and purse sent to you by Gloucester !-— You know their use. Without fur- ther observation follow me." Montgomery was thus abrupt, because, as he left the palace, he had heard the marshals give orders for different military detach- ments to search every residence of Gloucester for the Earl of Carrick, and he did not doubt that the party dispatched to Highgate were now mounting the summit of the hill. Bruce, throwing off his cassoc and cowl, again ap- peared in complete eirmour ; and after bending his knee for a moment on the stone which covered the remains of Wallace, he followed his friend from the chc^pel, through a solitary path in the park to the centre of the wood. Montgomeiy pointed to the horse. Bruce grasped the hand of his faithful con- ductor with fervency ; " I go, Montgomery," said he, " to my kingdom. But its crown shall never clasp my brows till the remains of Wallace return to their country. And whether peace or the sword restore them to Scotland, still shall a king's, a brother's friend- ship, unite my heart to Gloucester and to you." As he spoke, he vaulted into his saddle ; and receiving the cordial blessings of Montgomery, he touched his good steed with his pointed rowels, and was out of sight in an instant. Q') CHAP. XXXVIII. X\-BOUT the hour of twilight, on the eighth day after Bruce had cast his last look on the capital of England, — itliat scene of his long captivity under the spell of delusion, that theatre of his family's disgrace, and of his own eternal regrets !— he crossed the little stream which marked the oft-contended barrier land of the two kingdoms. He there checked the headlong speed of his horse, and having alighted to give it breath, walked by its side, musing on how different were the feelings with which he now entered Scotland, from THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. oio flie buoyant emotions with whicli he had sprung on its shore in the beginning of the year. These thoughts, as full of sorrow as of hope, had not occupied him long, when he espied a man in the Red Cummin's co- lours, galloping towards him. He guessed him to be some new messenger of the Regent to Edward, and throwing himself before the horse, caught it by the bridle, and commanded its rider to deliver to him the dispatches which he knew he carried to the King of England. The man, as was expected, refused, and striking his spurs into his beast, tried to trample down his assailant. But Bruce was not so to be put from his aim. The manner of the Scot convinced him that his suspicions were right, and putting forth his nervous arm, with one action he pulled him from his saddle and laid him prostrate on the ground. Again he demanded the papers : " I am your prince," cried Bruce, " and by the allegiance you owe to Robert Bruce, I command you to deliver them into my hands. Life shall be your reward. Immediate death the punishment of your obstinacy.*' In such an extremity, the man did not hesitate : and taking from his bosom a sealed packet, im- mediately resigned it.— -Bruce ordered him to stand before him till he Imd read the contents. The poor fellow, trembling with terror of this formidable free- booter, (for he placeelief in the declaration that he was the Prince of Scotland,) obeyed, and Bruce breaking the seals, found, as he expecrecL a long epis- tle from the Regent, urging the sangiiirary aim of his communications. He reiterated his arguments for the expediency of speedily putting Robert Bruce to death ; he represented " the danger that there was in dekty, lest a man so royally descended, and so popular as }ie had become, (since it was now publicly vmderstood that he had already fought his country's battles under the name of Sir Thomas de Longueville,) should tin4 means of placing himself at the head of so many zea- lots in his favour. These circumstances, so propi- tious to am.bition, and his nov\^ adding personal re- venge to his former boldness and policy, would, at this juncture, (the Rcf^crit pronounced,) should he arrive vol . It. KK 386 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. in Scotland turn its growing commotions to the mo&i oecisive uses against the English power.'* He con- raided with saying, that the Lords Loch-awe, Doug- las, and Ruthven, were come down from the High- tands with a multitudinous army, to drive out the Southron garrisons, and repossess themselves of the fortresses of Stirling and Edinburgh. That Lord Bothwell had returned from France with the real Sir Thomas de Longueville, a knight of great valiancy. And that Sir Roger Kirkpatrick, after having massa- cred half the English Castellans in the border coun- ties, was now lying at Torthorald ready to commence his murderous reprisals through the coasts of Gal- loway. For himself, he told the king, that he had se- cretly removed into the Franciscan monastery at Dum- fries, where he should most anxiously await his ma- jesty's pardon and commands." Bruce closed the packet. To prevent his designs being blown before they were ready to open, he laid his sword upon the shoulder of the man. " You arc my prisoner," said he, " but fear not. I only mean to hold you in safety till your master has answered for his treason." — The messenger thought that whoever this imperious stranger was, he saw a truth in his eyes which ratified this assurance, and without oppo- sition he walked before him till they stopped at Tor- thorald. Night had closed in when Bruce sounded his bugle under the v.'alls. Kirkpatrick himself answered from the embrasure over the Barbican-gate, and demanded who desired admittance. " None," added he, " that is not a true Scot, need venture his neck v/ithin these towers 1" " 'Tis the avenger of Sir William Wal- lace," was the reply. The gates ilew open at th3 v/ords, and Kirkpatrick standing in the arch-way amid a blaze of torches, received his guest with a brave v.el- come. Bruce spoke no more till he entered the banqueting hall, where he found three other knights. He then turned to Kirkpatrick, " My valiant friend," said he, «* order your servants to keep that Scot," pointing to ^he meiisenger of Cummin, "in s'afe custody till I THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 38/ command his release : but till then, let him be treated with the lenity v/hich shall ever belong to a prisoner of Robert Bruce !" As he spoke, he threw i:p his visor ; and Kirkpatrick, who witli others, had heard the report that the De Longueviile, Avho had been the companion of Wallace, was their rightful prince, now recognized the well-known features of the brave io- reigner in the stranger before him. Not doubting the verity of his words, he bent his knee with the ho- mage due to his king ; and in the action was imme- diately followed by Sir Eustace Maxwell, Sir James Lindsay, aiid Adam Fleming, v/ho were the other knights present. " I come,'* cried the. prince, " in the spirit of my heart's sovereign and friend, the now immortal Wal- lace, to live or to die with you in the defence of my country's liberties. With such assistance as yours, his invincible coadjutors, and with the blessing of hea- ven on our arms, I hope to redeem Scotland from the disgrace which her late horrible submission to the ty- rant has fastened on her name. The transgressions of my house have been grievous : but this last deadly sin of my people, calls for expiation dire indeed !— ^ And in their crime they have received their punish- ment. They broke from their side the arm which alone had rescued them from their enemies ! I novf come to save them from themselves. Their havinp; permitted the sacrifice of the rights of my family, was the first injury committed on the constitution, and it prepared the way for the ensuing tyranny which seized upon the kingdom. But by resuming these rights> which is now my firm purpose, I open to you a way to recover our ancient hereditary independence. The direful scene just acted on the Tower-hill of Londou. that horrible climax of Scottish treason ! must con- vince every reasonable mind, that all the late misfor- tunes of our country have proceeded from the bs.sc jealousies of its nobles. There then let them die, and may the grave of Wallace be the tomb of dissention ; Seeing where their own true interests point, surely the brav-c chieftains of this land will rally round th'.i' o88 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. lawful prince, who here declares he knows no medium l:)etwcen deah and victory !" The spirit with which this address was pronounced, the magnanimity it conveyed, assisted by the graces of his youth and noble deportment, struck forcibly to the hearts of his auditors, and aroused in double vigour fhose principles cf resentment with which they were already so powerfully actuated. Kirkpatrick needed no other stimulus than his almost idolatrous memorv of Wallace, and he listened with an answering ardour lo Bruce*s exhortation. The prince next disclosed to his now zealously pledged friends, the particulars of the Red Cummin's treachery. " He now lies at Dumfries I" cried KirkpatricJ:, " thither then let us go, and confront him with his treason. When false- hood is to be confounded, it is best to grapple with the sorceress in the moment of detection : should w& hesitate, she may elude our grasp." Dumfries was only a few miles distant, and they might reach the convent before the first mattins. Fatigue was not felt by Bruce when in the pursuit of a great object, and after a slight refreshment, he and his four determined friends took horse. As they h?A anticipated, the midnight bell was ring- ing for prayers as the troop stopped at the Franciscan gate. Lindsay having been in the Holy Land during the late public struggles, and not being likely to be .suspected of any hostility against the inhabitants of the monastery, (the principal of which was a Cummin,) Alleged business with the abbot and desired to see him. On the father bidding him welcame, Bruce stepped Ibrward and said, " Reverend sir, I come from Lon- don. I have an affair to settle with Lord Badenoch ; ^nd I knew by his letters to King Edward that he is :ecrctly lodged in this convent, I therefore demand to be conducted to him.'* This peremptory requisition, and the superior air of the person v/ho made it, did :iot leave the abbot room to doubt that he was some illustrious messenger from the King of England, and ■rvith hardly a demur he left the other knights in the cloisters of the church, and led the nwble Southron, h..^ he thought,) to his kinsinaR. THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. :su The treacherous Regent had just quitted the refec- tory, and retired to his own apartment, as the abbot conducted the stranger mto his presence, Badenoch started frowningly from his seat at such an unusual intrusion. Bruce's visor was closed. And the eccle- siastic perceiving the Regent's displeasure, dispersed it by announcing the visitant as a messenger from King Edward. " Then leave us alone," returned he, unwilling that even this his convenient kinsman should know the extent of his treason against his country. The abbot had hardly closed the door, when Bruce, whose indignant soul burnt to utter his full contempt of the wretch before him, hastily advanced to speak, but t»ie cautious Badenoch, fearful that the father might yet be within hearing, put his finger to his lips. Bruce paused, and listened to the departing steps of the abbot as he passed along the cloisters. When they were no more heard, with one hand rais- ing his visor, and the other grasping the scroll of de- tection — " Thus, basest of the base race of Cummin i' exclaimed he, " may you for a moment elude the uni- versal shame which awaits your crimes." At sight of the face, on hearing the words of Bruce, the unmanly coward uttered a cry of terror and rush- ed towards the door. " You pass not here," continu- ed the prince, " till I have laid open all your guilt, and pronounced on you the doom due to a tieacherous friend and traitorous subject.'* " Infatuated Bruce," exclaimed Badenoch, assuming an air of insulted friendship, now that he found escape impossible- ♦« what false tongue has persuaded you thus to arraign one who has ever been but too faithfully the adherent of your desperate fortunes ? — I have laboured day and night in secret in your service, and thus am I repaid.'* Bruce smiled disdainfully at this poor attempt to throw dust in his eyes, and as he stood with his back against the door, he evened the murderous packet, and read from it all its contents. Cummin turned pale and red at each sentence. — And at last Bruce closing it, " Now, then, faithful adherent of Robert Bruce I" cried he, " say what the man dese rves, who. in these blood-red lines petitions the deatlj of his 1?/,?- KK 3 390 THE SCOTTISH CHiEF:>. ful prince ?— Oh ! thou arch-regicide ! Doth not tny very looks kill thee ?" Badenoch, with his eoniplexion of a livid hue, and his voice faltering, first attempted to deny the letter having been his hand-writing, or that he had any con- cern in the former embassy to Edward :— 'Then find- ing that these falsehoods only irritated Bruce to high- er indignation ; and beside himself with terror tliat he should now be sacrificed to his prince's just resentment; he threw himself on his knees, and confessing each transaction, implored his life and pardon in pity to the fear which had alone precipitated him to so ungrate^ ful a proceeding. *» Oh !" added he, " I have given ijiyself to danger upon your account ! Even for your ultimate advantage did I bring on my head the perils which now fill me with dismay ! Love alone for you isiade me hasten the seizure and execution of William Wallace, that insidious friend, who would have crept iato your throne.- — And then fear of your mistaking the motives of so good a service, betrayed me to Jhrow myself into the arms of Edward 1" " Bury thyself and crimes, thou foulest traitor, deep in the depths of hell, that I may not pollute these hands with thy monstrous blood. Out of my sight for ever 1" cried the prince, startbig away with a tremen- dous gesture. Till this moment, Bruce was ignorant ihat Badenoch had been an instigator in the murder uf Wallace ; and forgetting ail his own personal wrongs in this more mighty injury, v/ith tumultuous liorror in his soul, he turned from the coward to avoid the self-blame of stabbing a wretch at his feet. But Cxi that moment, Cummin, who believed his doom only suspended, rose from his knee and struck his dirk in- to the back of the prince. Bruce turned on him with the quickness of thought, " Hah T' exclaimed he, seiz- ing him by the throat, " then take thy fate ! This ac- cursed deed has removed the only barrier between vengeance and thee, and thus remember V/illiam Wallace !" — As the prince spoke, he plunged his dag- ger into the breast of the traitor. Cummin uttered a fearful cry, and rolled down at his feet murmuring im- precatiomcS" THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 391 Bruce fled frora this scene of such horror. It was the first time his arm had drawn blood but in the field of battle, and he felt as if the base tide had contami- nated his royal steel. In the cloisters he was encoun- tered by his friends. — A few words informed them of what had happened.—" Is he dead ?" inquired Kirk- Patrick. " I can hardly doubt it," answered Bruce.—-. ** Such a matter," returned the veteran, " must not be left to conjecture. I will secure (w) him l" And running forward immediately, followed by Lindsay, he found the wounded Regent crawling from the door of the cell, and throwing himself upon him, without noise stabbed him to the heart. Before the catastrophe was known in the convent, Bruce and his friends had left it, and were far on their road to Lochmaben, his own paternal castle. He ar- rived before sun-rise, and thence dispatched Fleming 10 Lord Ruthven with a transcript of his designs. In the same packet he inclosed a letter for the Lady Isabella. It contained this brave resolution, That in his present return to Scotland, he did not consider himself merely as Robert Bruce, come to reclaim the throne of his ancestors, but as the executor of the last and dying will of Sir William Wallace, which was, chat Bruce should confirm the liberty of Scotland, or fall as Walla.ce had done, invincible at his post " Till that freedom is accomplished," continued the virtuous prince, " I will never shake the steadfast purpose of my soul, by even one glance at thy life -en- dearing beauties. I am Wallace's soldier, Isabella, as he was heaven's ! and while my captain looks down upon me from above, shall I not approye myself wor- thy his example ? — I wooed you as a knight, I v;ill win you as a king : and on the day when no hostile South- ron breathes in Scotland, I will demand my sweetest reward, my beloved bride, of her noble uncle. You shall come to me as the angel of peace, and in one hour we will receive the nuptial benediction, and the vows of our people !" The purport of the prince's letter to Ruthven was well adapted to the strain of the foregoing. He there aiinpunced his intention of immediately putting him- ^2 THE SCOTl'lSH CHIEFS. Self at the head of his loyal Scots on the plains of Stirling, and there, declaring himself their lawful sovereign, proclaim to the world that he acknowledge ed no legal superior but the Great Being, whose vice- gerent he w^as. From that centre of his kingdom he would make excursions to its furthest extremities; and with God's will, would either drive his enemies from the country, or perish with the sv/ord in his hand, as became the descendant of William the Lion i as became the friend of William Wallace 1" Ruthven was encamped on the carse of Gowrie when this letter was delivered to him. He read it aloud to his assembled chieftains, and with wavinr^ bonnets they all hailed the approach of their valiant prince. Bothwell alwie, whose soul-devoted attach- ment to Wallace could not be superseded by any other affection, allowed his bonnet to remain inactive in his hand, but with the fervour of true loyalty he thanked God for thus bringing the sovereign whom his friend loved, to bind in one the contending interests of his country ; and to wrest from the hands of that friend's assassin, the sceptre for which he had dyed them so aeep in blood. CHAP. XXXIX. 1 HE word of Bruce was as irreversible as his spirit was determined. No temptation of indulgence could seduce him from the one ; no mischance of ad- versity, could subdue the other. The standard of li- berty had been raised by him amidst his faithful chief- tains on the carse of Gowrie, and carried by his victo- rious arm from east to west ; from the most northern point of Sutherland to the walls of Stirling : but there, the garrison which the treason of the late Regent had admitted into the citadel, gave a momentary check to his career. The English governor refused to surren- der on the terms proposed ; and while his first flag of tvuce was yet in the tent of the Scottish monarch? a THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 394 second arrived to break off the negociation. King Edward at the head of a hundred thousand men, hav- ing forced a rapid passage through the Southern low- lands, was within a few hours march of Stirling ; not only to relieve that place, but with a determination to bury Scotland in her own slain, or to restore it at once to his sole empire. When this was uttered by the English herald, Bruce turned to Ruthven with an heroic smile ; " Let him come, my brave barons 1 and he shall find that Ban- nockburn shall page with Cambuskenneth 1'' The strength of the Scottish army did not a.mount to more than thirty thousar ' men against this host of Southrons. Bruce, in his xmequa.1 contest, lost not the advantage of choosing his ground first ; and there- fore, as his power was deiicient in cavalry, he so took his field as to compel the enemy, who must act on the offensive, to make it a battle of infantry alone. To protect his flank from the innumerable squadrons of Edward, he dug deep and wide pits near to Bannock- burn ; and then having overlaid their mouths with turf and brushwood, proceeded to marshal his little phalanx on the shore of that brook, till his front stretched to St, Ninian's monastery. The centre was led by Lord Ruthven and Walter Stewart, the Lord of Bute ; the right owned the valiant leading of Douglas and Ramsay ; and the left was put in charge of Len*- nox, with Sir Thomas Randolph as his second, a brave chieftain who, like Lindsay and others, had lately re- turned from a distant land, and now embraced the cause of his country with a patriot's zeal. Bruce stationed him.self at the head of the reserve ; and with him was the veteran Loch-awe, and Kirkpatrick, and Lord Bothwell with the true De Longueviile and the brave J.anarkers of Wallace ; ail determined to make this division the stay of their little army, or the last sacrifice for Scottish liberty. Before they enter- ed on the field the heads cf these battalions assem- bled around their king in his tent, and there, on the mysterious iron box, (which Douglass had caused to be brought by the abbot of Inchaffray from St. Fillan's |;Tiory,) they swore to fill up one grave rathf^r thaai a94 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS; alive yield one inch of the ground which Wallace had rendered doublj sacred by his victories. The abbot, who laid the box before his young monarch, repeated the prohibition which had been given with it, and ad- ded, " since then these canonized relics, (for none can doubt that they are so,) have found protection un- der the no less holy arm of St. Fillan, he now delivers them to your youthful majesty to penetrate their se- crets, and to nerve your mind with a redoubled trust in the saintly host." " The saints are to be honoured, reverend father ; and on that principle I shall not invade their myste- ries, till the God in whom alone I trust, marks mc with more than the name of king ; till He establishes me by victory, the approved champion of my country. But as a memorial that the spirits of the blessed lean from their bright abodes to wish well to this day, let these holy relics be borne next our standard in the battle !" Bruce having placed his array, disposed the super- numeraries of his army, the families of his soldiers, and other apparently useless followers of the camp, under shelter of a hill which would lie between them and the enemy. He ordered Scrymgeour to strike the royal standard deep into a stone which grew out of the ground in the centre of his line. " By it," said he, " we must this day stand or fall !" The following morning the whole of the Southron army appeared in sight. The van, consisting of ar» chers, and men at arms, was commanded by Earl de Warenne ; and the main body was led on by Edward himself, supported by Aymer de Valence and a train of his most redoubted generals. As they approached, the warlike Bishop of Dunkeld appeared on the face ©f the opposite hill, between the abbots of Cambus- kenneth and InchalTray, celebrating mass in the sight of the opposing armies. He then passed along in front of the Scottish lines barefoot, with the crucifix in his hand, and in few, but forceful words, exhorted them by every sacred hope to fight with an unreceding step for their rights and king I At this adjuration, which seemed the call of heaven itself, the Scots fell THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 395 ©n their knees to confirm their resolution -with a vow. The sudden humiliation of their posture excited an instant triumph in the haughty mind of Edward, and spurring forward, he shouted aloud, " They yield 1 They cry for mercy !'* " They cry for mercy I'* re- turned Percy, trying to withhold his majesty, "but not from us. On that ground on which they kneel^ they will be victorious, or find their graves 1" The king, contemning this opinion of the earl, and inwardly believing that now Wallace was gone, he need fear no other opponent, ordered his men to charge. The horsemen, to the number of thirty thousand, obeyed ; and rushing forward to the shock> with tlie hope of overwhelming the Scots ere they could arise from their knees, met a different destiny. They found destruction amid the pits and hollows of the way, and with broken ranks and fearful confusion, fell, or fled under the missive w eapons which poured €11 them from the adjoining hill. De Valence was overthrown and severely wounded on the first onset ; -and being carried off the field, filled the rear ranks with dismay ; while the king's division was struck with consternation at so disastrous a commencement of an action in w^hich they had promised themselves so easy a victory, Bruce, who felt his little army much distressed by the arrows cf the English, sent Both- well round with a resolute body of men to attack the archers on the height they had seized. This was in- stantly effected ; and Bruce coming up with his re- serve to fill the deficiencies which this artillery had made in his foremost ranks, the battle in the centre became close, obstinate, and decisive. Many fell be- fore the determined arm of the youthful king ; but it v/as the fortune of Bothwell to encounter the false Menteith in the train of Edward. The Scottish earl was then at the head of the intrepid Lanarkers.— . " Fiend of the most damned treason 1*' cried he, " vengeance is come !" and with an iron grasp throw- ing him into the midst of the Lanarkers, the wretch- ed traitor breathed out his treacherous breath under the strokes of a hundred swords. " So,'* cried the vcicran, Ireland, " perish the murderers of William G96 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. Wallace !" " So," shouted the rest, *< perish the eut- nuies of the bravest of men V* At this crisis, the women and the followers of the Scottish camp, hearing such an exclamation from their friends, not doubting it was victory, impatiently quit- ted their station behind the hill, and appeared on the summit, waving their bonnets and handkerchiefs, which they had exultingly mounted on their staffs^ and re-echoed with loud huzzas the shouts they had heard from below. The English, mistaking these people for a new army, had not the power to recover from the increasing confusion which had seized them on King Edward himself receiving a wound ; and pa- nic-struck with the sight of their generals falling around them, they flung down their arms and fled. — The king narrowly escaped being taken ; but being mounted on a stout and fleet horse, he put him to the speed before his pursuing foe, till he found shelter in X)unbar : whence the young earl of that place, almost as much attached to the cause of England as his father was, gave him a passage to England. The Southron camp, with all its riches, fell into the hands of Bruce. And when he returned to Stirling from his victorious chase with the keys of Edinburgh in his hand, and the Lord March his prisoner, (after having stormed that nobleman^s castle, and beat it to the ground ;) he brought' happy news which had met him en the way, that Edward had died suddenly of chagrin in the palace of Carlisle. So heaven had re- moved for ever the prime instigator of Scotland's woes ! and with this intelligence, as a conclusive'ar- gument, he demanded the unconditional surrender of Stirling Castle. The English governor knew the no- ble nature of the prince who made this proud requisi- tion ; and aware that further opposition v/ould be in vain, he resigned the fortress to his mercy, and open- ed the gates In that hour Bruce entered as a con- queror, with the whole of his kingdom at his feet : for, from the Solway Frith to the Northern Ocean, no Scottish town nor castle owned a foreign master. The acclamations of a rescued people rent the skies ; and VihilQ prayers and blessings poured on him from THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 397 above, below, and around, he did indeed feel himself a king, and that he had returned to the land of his fore- fathers. While he stood on his proud war-horse in front of the great gates of the citadel, now throwr* wide asunder to admit their rightful sovereign, the noble prisoners from the camp came forward, and those from the garrison appeared. They bent their knees before him, and delivering their swords, receiv-^ ed in return his gracious assurance of mercy. At th?s moment all Scottish hearts and wishes seemed rivet- ted on their youthful monarch. And he, dismounting from his steed with a gallant grace that took captive even the souls of his enemies, raised his helmet off his head as the bishop of DunkeM, followed by all the ecclesiastics in the town, came to wait upon the tri- umph of his king. The beautiful anthem of the virgins of Israel on the conquests of David, was chanted forth by the nuns who, for this heaven- iiailowed hour, like the spirits of the blest, revisited the v.'orld to give the chosen of their land, .//// hail I The words, the scene, smote the heart of Bothweli ; he turned aside and wept. Where were now the buoyant feelings with which he had follov.ed the simi- lar triumph of Wallace into these gates ? " Buried, thou martyred hero, in thy bloody grave 1" New men, ' from me the answer, — That my heart v/ould not for the wealth of the world, permit me to join him in the; projected invasion, since I had seen the spot in my ov/n country where, actuated by a most unkingly jealousy, he had cut down the flower of all knighthood, because he was a Scot, and would not sell his birth-right !— ».Thc king left me in wrath, and threatened, vrhcn he return- ed, to make me recant my v.'ords : — I as proudly de° clared I would maintain them. And this was my situ- ation, when, on entering the prince's chamber imme- diately on the news of Edward's defeat and death, I found John Le de Spencer, (the coward who had so basely insulted Wallace on the day of his condemna- tion,) sitting with his highness. On my offering the condolements due from my rank, this worthless min- ion turned on me, and accused me in the most inso- lent language of rejoicing in the late king's ill-success. He taxed me with having remained behind in London for the sole purpose of executing some plot, devised between me and my Scottish partisans, for the subver- r.ion of the English monarchy. I denied the charge. He enforced it with oaths and new allegations. The prince furiously gave me the lie, and commanded me as a traitor from his presence. I refused to stir an inch till I had made the base heart of Lo de Spencer retract his falsehood. The coward took courage at his mas- :er's passion, and drawing his sword upon me, in lan*^ guage that would blister my tongue to repeat, he threatened to compel my departure ; and as a first mo- tion, he struck me on the face with his weapon. The arms of his prince could not then save him ; I thrust him through the body, and he fell. Edward ran on me with his dagger, but I wrested it from him ; and then it was that, in reply to his menaces, I revoked my fealty to a sovereign I despised. And leaving the pre- 402 - THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. sence, before the fluctuations of his versatile mind could fix upon seizing me, I had borne away thQ body of our friend from its sanctuary : and embarking it and myself on board a ship of my own, am now at your feet, brave and just king, a true Scot in heart and loyalty 1" " And as a brother, generous Ilambledon 1" returned Bruce, " I receive, and will portion thee. My pater- nal lands of Cadzow on the Clyde, shall be thine for ever. And may thy posterity be as worthy of the in- heritance, as their ancestor is of all my love and confi- dence !"(^) Hambledon having received his new sovereign's di- rections concerning the disembarkation of those sa- cred remeiins, which the young king declared that he should welcome as the pledge of heaven to bless his victories with peace ; he returned the same night to the haven, where Wallace rested in that sleep which even the voice of friendship could not disturb. At an early hour next morning Bruce appeared on horseback armed cap-a-pee, with his helmet royally plumed, and a mantle of the same significance over his shoulders. Both well, (whom he had summoned as soon as Hambledon quitted the tent, to communi- cate to him tidings so grateful to his heart,) appeared at his side. The troops he had retained at Bannock- hum were drrvwn out on the field. In a brief address ibe unfolded to them the solemn duty to which he had called them : to receive once more, and for ever, to its native land, the body of William Wallace ! At the words, a cry, as if they beheld that beloved chieftain slain before them, issued from every heart. The news spread^ ta the town: and with tears and la- mentations, a vast crowd had collected themselves aroimdthe royt^l troop, just as a messenger arrived to inform the kiilg that the body was landed, and now bearing towards him. Bruce told Scrymgeour to ele- vate the Scottish standard and begin the march. The whole train followed in speechless woe, as if each in- dividual had lost his dearest relative, and was attend- ing him to the grave. Having passed the wood, they came in view of the black hearse which covered all ^>h^X now remained of him who had so lately crossed THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 400 these precincts in all the panopoly of triumphant war ^ in all the graciousncss of peace and love to man !— At the sight, the soldiers, the people, rushed forward, and precipitating themselves before the bier, which now- stopped, on their knees implored for his pardon on their ungrateful country. They adjured him by every ten- der name of father, benefactor, and friend; and in such a sacred presence, forgetting that their king was by, they gave way to a grief which most eloquently told, the young monarch that he who would be respected after William Wallace, must not only possess his pow- er and valour, but imitate his virtues. Scrymgeour, who well remembered the desire that Wallace had expressed on the battlements of the Keep of Dumbarton Castle, with a holy reference to ihe vow he made to him at that time, now obeyed his prince, and laid the standard of Scotland upon the palL Bruce, uncovering his royal head, with his kingly purple sv, eeping in the dust, walked before the bier, shedding those tears, more precious in the eyes of his subjects than the oil which was soon to pour upon his brow. It was, as he thus moved on, the mourner of all mortal excellence, that he heard acclamations min- gle with the voice of sorrow. " This is our king, worthy to have been the friend of Wallace ! worthy to succeed him in the kingdom of our hearts ?" At the gates of Cambuskenneth, the venerable ab- bot whom Wallace's valiant arm had placed there, ap- peared at the head of his religious brethren ; and without uttering the guief that shook his aged frame, he raised the golden crucifix over the head of the biev ; and after leaning his face for a few minutes on it, preceded the procession into the church. None but the soldiers entered. The people remained without ; and as the doors closed on them they fell on the pave- ment, weeping as if the living Wallace had again been torn from them. ^ On the steps of the altar the bier rested. The Bi- shop of Dunkeld in his pontifical robes, received the sacred deposit with a cloud of incense ; and the peal- ing organ, answered by the voices of the choristers, breathed forth the solemn reouiem'of the dead. The 404 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. wreathing frankincense parted its vapour, and a wan but beautiful form appeared clad in a nun's black vest- ments, and clasping an urn to her breast. She was supported by Lord Bothwell towards the spot. Her veil was open, and discovered a face as of one just awaked from the sleep of death : it was ashy pale ; but it bore a celestial brightness, which, like the silver lustre of the moon, declared its approach to the foun- tain of its glory. Her eye fell on the bier: and with a momentary strength, she left the arms on which she had leaned in dying feebleness, and rushing towards it, threw herself upon the coffin. There was an awful pause while Helen seemed to weep. But so was not her sorrow to be shed. It was locked within the flood-gates of her heart. In that suspension of the soul, when Bothwell knelt on one side of the bier, and Bruce bent his knee on the other, the church door opened, and Ruthven ad- vanced, leading in his agitated hand the Lady Isabella, dressed in her bridal attire. She hurried forward with her fair face bathed in tears at the recital she had just heard. Bruce stretched out his hand towards her : " Come here, my youthful bride, and let thy first duty be paid to the shrine of thy benefactor and mine ! — So may we live, sweet excellence, and so may we die, if the like may be our meed of heavenly glory !" Isabella threw herself into his arms and wept : and Helen, slowly raising her head at these words, gazed at her sister with a look of awful tenderness, and then turning her eyes back upon the coffin, as if they avouM have pierced its confines, she clasped the urn sudden- ly to her heart and exclaimed, " Thy bridal bed shall be my grave /" Bruce and Isabella, not aware that she repeated words which Wallace had said to her, believing she addressed them, turned to her with portentous emo- tion. She understood the terrified glance of her sis- ter ; and with a smile, which spoke her kindred to the soul her's was panting to join, she said, " I speak of my own espousals. But ere that moment comes, let my Wallace's hallowed presence bless your nup- tials !-«Thou wilt treathe thy benediction through my THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. 4C5 iips :" added she, laying her hand on tlje coffin, and looking down on it as if she were conversing with its inhabitant. " O ! no, no ;" returned Isabella with a supersti- tious dread, and shrinking from the almost unembodi- ed aspect of her sister. " It is indeed her spirit that speaks ;" cried Dun- keld, observing the avv^c, which not only shook the ten- der frame of Isabella, but had communicated itself lo Bruce, who stood, not in fear, but in heart-struck veneration before the yet un-ascended angci ; '• holy inspiration," continued the Bishop," beams from her eyes ; and as ye hope for further blessings, obey its .dictates !" Isabella bowed her head in acquiescence. Bruce, as he approached to take his part in the sacred rite, raised the hand which lay on the pall to his lips. The seremony began ; was finished ! — As the bridal notes resounded from the organ, and the royal pair rose from their knees, Helen held her hands over them, " God is in this house I And in like manner, hold Hm in your hearts, your light and glory -—-Be you blest in all things as Wallace would have blessed you I — From his side I pour out my soul upon you, .my sister — my brother I — and with its inward breathed prayers to the Giver of all Good for your eternal hap- piness, I turn to my long-looked for rest I" Thenj after fervently kissing her sister, she again turned to the coffin, and exclaimed, " We have met at last I — 1 waited only for this : to unite thy noble heart to thee again, and then I claim thy promise-- at our Father's hands !" She sunk on her knees, and clasping her hands strongly, in low accents faintly uttered, " Death! where is thy sting ? O grave, where is thy victory ?" and then ceasing, seemed in earnest prayer. At this awful moment, the abbot of Inchaffray ap- proached the king with the iron box. " Before the sacred remains of the once champion of Scotland, (>) and in the presence of his royal successor,"' exciainiod the abbot, " let this -.aysterious cofter of St. Fillan's be opened, to reward the deliverer of Scotland accord- ing to its intent 1" ^' If it were to contain the relics 406 THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. of St. Fillag himself," returned the king, « they covild not meet a holier bosom than this!" and resting the box on the coffin, he unclasped the lock ; and the Regalia of Scotland was discovered 1 At this sight Bruce exclaimed in an agony of grateful em.otion, " Thus did this truest of human beings protect my rights, even while the people I had deserted, and whom he had saved, knelt to him to wear them all !'* " And thus Wallace crowns thee !" said Dunkeld, taking the diadem from its coffer, and setting it on his head. *' My husband, and my king !" gently exclaimed Isabella, sinking on her knee before him, and clasping his hand to her lips. Ruthven, at this motion, took a roll of parchment from his breast. " I must not be the last to bring a precious gift to my sovereign. Here," added he, presenting the scroll, " I received thig from English envoys as I came through Stirling. It contains honourable offers of peace from the young King Edward." " Hearest thou that ? my sweet cousin, Helen !" cried Bothwell, touching the clasped hands which rested on the coffin. He turned pale, and looked on Bruce. Bruce, in the glad moment of his joy at this happy consummation of so many years of blood, ob- served not his glance, but in exulting accents, ex- claimed, " Look up, my sister ; and let thy soul, dis- coursing with our Wallace, tell him that Scotland is free, and Bruce a king !" She spoke not, she moved not. Bothwell raised her clay-cold face. "That soul is fled, my lord!" said he, " but from yon eternal sphere they now together look upon your joys. Here let their bodies rest ; for they lo-'^edin their lives, and in their deaths they shall not be divided .'" THB END NOTES TO THE SECOND VOLUME Of THE SCOTTISH CHIEFS. (a p. 4.) The ruitis of this tower are still visible ; and near to theiii the people of the country point out the place where Wallace en- camped his brave army. (b p. 6.) Several of these vaulted residences may now be seen in Crawford- iMoore. Tradition informs us of the use to which they were applied. Not only th^ poor outraged people thus found shelter in the bosom of their mother earth, but the cattle also. (c p. 10.) There are hills in Annandale and Clydesdale, called Watches, where persons in old times were stationed to give different signals appointed by their commanders. These notices were cDm- municated with wonderful rapidity by smoke in the day, and flame at night. (d p. 24.) To throw a spear, was an ancient mode of denounciag war. (e p. 25.) Wallace's rejection of King Edward's splendid offers is particularly noted by the old British historians, and the substance of his answer is particularly recorded. (fp. 33.) Alexano.r III. was killed in this manner on the 18th of April 1290; just seven years before the consequent calamities of his country made it necessary for Wallace to rise in its defence. Ho- lingshed gives a circumstantial account of Thomas of Learmont's (or as the translator o' Hector Boetius names him, Thomas ofEr- cikloun) prophecy of this event. (gp. 36.) The fine i-uins of Kilchurn-Castle are still to be seen on a rocky point, projecting into Loch-aM'e. The loft^ -Ben-Cruachan X'ises immediately behind the castle in stupendous grandeur. (h p. 43.) Huntingdon Tower, a castle of the Lords UuthVen, in the near neighbourhood of Perth, is still a fine structure. It consists of two square towers connected by other buildings. Much of it is in ruins, but the banqueting-hall is discoverable. The situation is de- lightful ; and every acre about it is heroically consecrated ground. (i p. 47:3 Thito or Tintoc, signifying the hill of fire ; is the last gi-eat mountain to the north in Clydesdale. Its height is about 2260 feet from the sea. — Not far from it, at Biggar, the spot is shewn which was Wallace^'s camp. (k p. 49) lloycross (or King's-cross) erected on the heath of StanmorCj (a stony tract of land between Richmondshirc and Cum- berland) by William the first of England, and Malcolm III. of Scot- land, as the boundary mark of their separate domains. (1 p 56) The name by which Patnck Dunbar, Earl ofMarcli,. was tamiiiarty called. 400 NOTES, (m p. 81.) Sir Colin Campbell, surnameJ More, (great), frofl; his extraordinary valour, was the father of Neil {Campbell, Lord ot Loch -awe ; and in memory of his I'enown, the head or chief of his family -w.is forages after distinguished by the title of JMack-callan' more, which means son oj the great Colin. k, (n p. 81.) John Cummin.s, Lord of Badenoch (usually jC^Ted the Black Cummin) married Marjory, sister to Baliol, King of Scots. In the year 1290, Lord Badenoch was one of the competitors for the crown as heir in the seventh generation, from Donald King of Scots. (op. 87 ) Brandanes was the distinguishing appellation of the mi- litary followers of the chiefs of Bute. (p p. 96.) The jealousy of the lords against Wallace, and the parti- culars of the battle of Falkirk, with his discourse Avitli Bruce oh the banks of the Carron, are well known events in Scottish annals ; and the writer of this work has spared no researches to bring the account here presented as near the facts as possible. '(qp. 98 ) William Sinclair, the patriotic Bishop of Dunkeld, wa? brother to the Lord of Roslyn. (»p. 99.) Dunipaeis, means the hills of peace. There are two on +:he banks of the Carron ; and are supposed to have beeji)< erected by the Normans in- some treaty with the natives. j^*'" (s p. 113.) The lamentations which Sir Williarn/FSVallace made over the body of Sir John Gr.iham his faithful fH|Bnd, are recorded by several historians ; and this epitaph is still e^^nt on that warri- or's grave in the chui'ch of Falkirk. — The Engliph of it^jl^^is : *' Here Hqs jGraham, slain in battle by the Ei^lish ; jfic was strong r, mind antibody; and was the faithful frierfd [Achates] of Wal-- ice." Not far from Graham's tomb, i.^ buried -John Stewart Lord ofButC: and brother to the Steward of Scotland, from whom the royal family of tliat name descended. His gr;ivo is mai'ked by a plain stone' without any inscription. ' (t p. 1-2.1.) The family of (kniimins was so powerful and numei'ous, t.hat an ipcredible number ot chiettains of that name attended the Srs^ p-^rliament which Robert I. held at Dunstaffnage Castle. The relationsliip between the heiress of Strathearn and that family, was very rear; her paternal grand-mother having bjen the daughter o^ :^Loid Baiienoch. (Vp*.139.) I» "ommeraoration of the victory which this ancienf- '^cottish prino-e^btai'ned over the Britons before the christian era, he field of conqvieVft has ever alter been called llutherglen. (^' p. 159.) A senachie (oi- bard) was an indispensable appendage of rank in every noble Scottish fami!}'. — The senachie always slept )fi his lord's apartment. "■, ^ (w p. I4i).) This round tower (or keep) is the only par^ of tbs ^astle of Durham in any good preservation. ^^ (x p. 146.) These speeches are historically true, as is alsoftlie after- 'reatmentoflEdward to the Earl of ('arrick. ■ (yp. 151.) It is a superstition with the lower orders in the north. that when a man i.s going to die, some of his friends see his jippara*- •tion, which- th'.y cull his ivraith, and they say it often appears in the presence «)f ll.c- doomed person. (zp. iG'j I The T'cmnins of this curious subterraneous passage are t to he s^-cu ; l)ut parts of them arc now broken in upon by ^\ater^^_ .,iid there}bi*c tlie communication between Durham and Fincklay h tvjw ^tit oil". Many strange legends arc told of this passage. 14 DAY USE RETUKN TO DESK FROM WHICH BORROWED LOAN DEPT. This book is due on the last date stamped below, or ^" "^ on the date to which «°ewed. Renewed books are subject to .mmediate recall. _ ^^^^^^^7:57^ Loam Depi_ r t 4 1977 SEC. ciR. APR 1 2 yy, FEB 3 \ t98L--' LD2lA-60w-2,'67 (H241slO)476B General Library . University of Cahfora» Berkeley C05&2 «^l 'i'^Ki >'V -r^'^.