by Jane Porter
Chapter IX.
Bothwell Dungeons.
Having rewarded his trusty followers with their promised war-bonnetsfrom the hand of Helen, and dispatched them onward to the foot ofCartiane Craigs, to await his arrival with the larger levy. Murrayproceeded to the apartment of Lord Mar, to inform him how far he hadexecuted his commands, and to learn his future orders. HE found theveteran earl surrounded by arms and armed men; fifty brave Scots, whowere to lead the three hundred on Bothwell Moor, were receiving theirspears and swords, and other weapons, from the hands of their lord.
"Bear these stoutly my gallant countrymen," cried he, "and remember,that although the dragon** of England has burned up your harvests, andlaid our homes in ashes, there is yet a lion in Scotland to wither hispower, and glut you with his spoil!"
**The standard of Edward I, was a golden dragon--a very ancient Britishstandard, but derived from pagan times.-(1809.)
The interest of the scene, and the clatter of the arms he wasdispensing, prevented anybody present hearing any sound of what wastaking place beyond the room. But the earl had hardly uttered thesewords, when the double-doors of the apartment were abruptly opened, andall eyes were blasted by the sudden sight of Lord Soulis,** and a manin splendid English armor, with a train of Southron soldiers, followingthe recreant Scot.
**William Lord Soulis was a powerful chief in the south of Scotland.He founded pretensions to the Scottish crown, on his descent from anillegitimate daughter of Alexander II. Soulis was a traitor to hiscountry, and so notoriously wicked, that tradition endows him with thepower of infernal necromancy. His castle of Hermitage, in Teviotdale,is still shown as the resort of malignant demons.-(1809.)
The earl started from his couch. "Lord Soulis! what is the occasion ofthis unapprised visit?"
"The ensign of the liege lord of Scotland is my warrant!" replied he;"you are my prisoner; and in the name of King Edward of England, I takepossession of this castle."
"Never!" cried the earl, "while there is a man's arm within it."
"Man and woman," returned Lord Soulis, "must surrender to Edward.Three thousand English have seized three hundred of our insurgents onBothwell Moor. The castle is surrounded, and resistance impossible.Throw down your arms!" cried he, turning to the clansmen, who throngedround their chief; "or be hanged for rebellion against your lawfulsovereign!"
"Our lawful sovereign!" returned a young man who stood near him, "mustbe the enemy of Edward; and to none else will we yield our arms!"
"Traitor!" cried the English commander, while with a sudden anddreadful stroke of his battle-ax he laid the body of the generous Scota headless corpse at his feet. A direful cry proceeded from hisenraged comrades. Every sword was drawn; and before the bewildered andsoul-struck earl could utter a word, the Furies blew their mosthorrible blast through the chamber; and the half-frantic Mar beheld hisbrave Scots at one moment victorious, and in the next the floor strewedwith their dead bodies. A new succession of blood-hounds had rushed inat every door; and before the exterminating sword was allowed to rest,the whole of his faithful troops lay around him, wounded and dying.Several had fallen across his body, having warded with their lives thestrokes they believed leveled at his. In vain his voice had calledupon his men to surrender--in vain he had implored the iron-heartedSoulis, and his coadjutor Aymer de Valence, to stop the havoc of death.
All now lay in blood; and the heat of the room, thronged by thevictors, became so intolerable that De Valence, for his own sake,ordered the earl to be removed into another apartment.
Meanwhile, unconscious of these events, Helen had lain down on her bed,to seek a few minutes' repose; and having watched the whole of thepreceding night, was sunk into a profound sleep.
Murray, who was present at the abrupt entrance of the enemy, no soonerheard them declare that the castle was surrounded by a comparativelylarge army, than he foresaw all would be lost. On the instant, andbefore the dreadful signal of carnage was given in the fall of theyoung Scot, he slid behind the canopy of his uncle's couch; and liftingthe arras by a back door which led to some private rooms, hastily madeway to the chamber of his cousin. As he hurried along, he heard afearful shout. He paused for a moment, but thinking it best, whatevermight have happened, to secure the safety of Helen, he flew onward, andentered her room. She lay upon the bed in a deep sleep. "Awake,Helen!" he cried; "for your life, awake!"
She opened her eyes; but, without allowing her time to speak, hehastily added; "The castle is full of armed men, led hither by theEnglish commander, Aymer de Valence, and the execrable Soulis. Unlessyou fly through the vaulted passage, you will be their prisoner."
Helen gazed at him in terror. "Where is my father? Leave him Icannot."
"Fly, in pity to your father! Oh, do not hesitate! What will be hisanguish, should you fall into the hands of the furious man whose loveyou have rejected; when it will no longer be in the power of a parentto preserve your person from the outrages of his eager and avengefulpassion! If you had seen Soulis' threatening eyes--" He wasinterrupted by a clamor in the opposite gallery, and the shrieks ofwomen. Helen grasped his arm. "Alas, my poor damsels! I will go withyou, whither you will, to be far from him."
As Murray threw his arm about her waist, to impel her failing steps,his eyes fell on the banner and the suit of armor.
"All else must be left," exclaimed he, seizing the banner; and hurryingHelen forward, he hastened with her down the stairs which led from thewestern watch-tower to the vaults beneath the castle. On entering thefirst cellar, to which a dim light was admitted through a small gratingnear the top, he looked round for the archway that contained the avenueof their release. Having descried it, and raised one of the largeflags which paved the floor, he assisted his affrighted cousin down ashort flight of steps, into the secret passage. "This," whispered he,"will carry us in a direct line to the cell of the prior of St. Fillan."
"But what will become of my father, and Lady Mar? This flight, whilethey are in danger! oh! I fear to complete it!"
"Rather fear the libertine Soulis," returned Murray, "he can only makethem prisoners; and even that injury shall be of short duration. Iwill soon join the brave Wallace; and then, my sweet cousin, liberty,and a happy meeting!"
"Alas! his venerable harper," cried she, suddenly remembering Halbert;"should he be discovered to have belonged to Wallace, he, too, will bemassacred by these merciless men."
Murray stopped. "Have you courage to remain in this darkness alone?If so, I will seek him, and he shall accompany us."
Helen had courage for anything but the dangers Murray might encounterby returning into the castle; but the generous youth had entered toofully into her apprehensions concerning the old man to be withheld."Should I be delayed in coming back," said he, recollecting thepossibility of himself being attacked and slain, "go forward to the endof this passage; it will lead you to a flight of stairs; ascend them;and by drawing the bolt of a door, you will find yourself at once inthe prior's cell."
"Talk not of delay," replied Helen; "return quickly, and I will awaityou at the entrance of the passage." So saying, she swiftly retracedwith him her steps to the bottom of the stone stairs by which they haddescended. He raised the flag, sprung out of the aperture, and closingit down, left her in solitude and darkness.
Murray passed through the first cellar, and was proceeding to thesecond (among the catacombs of which lay the concealed entrance to theprivate stairs), when he saw the great gates of the cellar open, and alarge party of English soldiers enter. They were conducted by thebutler of the castle, who seemed to perform his office unwillingly,while they crowded in, thirsty and riotous.
Aware how unequal his single arm would be to contend with such numbers,Murray, at the first glance of these plunderers, retreated behind aheap of casks in a remote corner. While the trembling butler wasloading a dozen of the men with flasks for the refreshment of theirmasters above, the rest were helping themselves from the adjacentcatacombs. Some left the cellars with
their booty, and others remainedto drink it on the spot. Glad to escape the insults of the soldierswho lay wallowing in the wine, Bothwell's old servant quitted thecellar with the last company which bore flagons to their comrades above.
Murray listened anxiously, in hopes of hearing from his garrulousneighbors some intimation of the fate of his uncle and aunt. Hehearkened in vain, for nothing was uttered by these intoxicatedbanditti, but loud boastings of the number each had slain in the earl'sapartment; execrations against the Scots for their obstinateresistance; and a thousand sanguinary wishes, that the nation had butone neck, to strike off at a blow.
How often, during this conversation, was Murray tempted to rush outamongst them, and seize a desperate revenge! But the thought of hispoor cousin, now awaiting his return, and perhaps already sufferingdreadful alarms from such extraordinary uproar, restrained him; andunable to move from his hiding-place without precipitating himself intoinstant death, he remained nearly an hour in the most painful anxiety,watching the dropping to sleep of this horrid crew, one by one.
When all seemed hushed--not a voice, even in a whisper, startling hisear--he ventured forth with a stealing step toward the slumbering group.Like his brave ancestor, Gaul, the son of Morni, "he disdained to staba sleeping foe!" He must pass them to reach the private stairs. Hepaused and listened. Silence still reigned; not even a hand moved, sodeeply were they sunk in the fumes of wine. He took courage, and flewwith the lightness of air to the secret door. As he laid his hand onit, it opened from without, and two persons appeared. By the few rayswhich gleamed from the expiring torches of the sleepers, he could seethat the first wore English armor. Murray made a spring, and caughtthe man by the throat; when some one seizing his arm, exclaimed, "Stop,my Lord Murray! it is the faithful Grimsby." Murray let go his hold,glad to find that both his English friend and the venerable object ofhis solicitude were thus providentially brought to meet him; butfearing that the violence of his action, and Halbert's exclamation,might have alarmed the sleeping soldiers (who, drunk as they were, weretoo numerous to be resisted), he laid his finger on the tip of Grimsby,and motioned to the astonished pair to follow him.
As they advanced, they perceived one of the soldiers move as ifdisturbed. Murray held his sword over the sleeping wretch, ready toplunge it into his heart should he attempt to rise; but he became stillagain; and the fugitive having approached the flag, Murray drew it up,and eager to haven his double charge, he thrust them together down thestairs. At that moment, a shriek from Helen (who had discovered, by agleam of light which burst into the vault, a man descending in Englisharmor), echoed through the cellars. Two of the soldiers jumped upontheir feet, and rushed upon Murray. He had let the flag drop behindhim; but still remaining by it, in case of an opportunity to escape, hereceived the strokes of their weapons upon his target, and returnedthem with equal rapidity. One assailant lay gasping at his feet. Butthe clashing of arms, and the cries of the survivor had alreadyawakened the whole crew. With horrid menaces, they threw themselvestoward the young Scot, and would certainly have cut him to pieces, hadhe not snatched the only remaining torch out of the hand of thestaggering soldier, and extinguished it under his foot. Bewilderedwhere to find their prey, with threats and imprecations, they groped indarkness, slashing the air with their swords, and not unfrequentlywounding each other in the vain search.
Murray was now far from their pursuit. He had no sooner put out thelight, than he pulled up the flag, and leaping down, drew it after him,and found himself in safety. Desperate as was the contest, it had beenshort; for he yet heard the footsteps of the panic-struck Helen, flyingalong the passage. The Englishman and Halbert, on the first falling ofthe flag, not knowing its spring, had unsuccessfully tried to re-raiseit, that they might assist Murray in the tumult above. On hisappearing again so unexpectedly, they declared their joy; but the younglord, impatient to calm the apprehensions of his cousin, returned noother answer than "Follow me!" while he darted forward. Terror hadgiven her wings, and even prevented her hearing the low sounds ofMurray's voice, which he durst not raise to a higher pitch, for fear ofbeing overheard by the enemy. Thus, while she lost all presence ofmind, he did not come up with her till she fell breathless against hestairs at the extremity of the vault.