by Jane Porter
Chapter XXIV.
The Great Tower.
When Wallace withdrew, Lady Mar, who had detained Murray, whispered tohim, while a blush stained her cheek, that she should like to bepresent at the planting of the standard. Lord Mar declared hiswillingness to accompany her to the spot, and added, "I can besupported thither by the arm of Andrew." Murray hesitated. "It willbe impossible for my aunt to go; the hall below, and the ground beforethe tower, are covered with slain."
"Let them be cleared away!" cried she; "for I cannot consent to bedeprived of a spectacle so honorable to my country."
Murray regarded the pitiless indifference with which she gave thisorder with amazement. "To do that, madam," said he, "is beyond mypower; the whole ceremony of the colors would be completed long beforeI could clear the earth of half its bleeding load. I will seek apassage for you by some other way."
Before the earl could make a remark, Murray had disappeared; and afterexploring the lower part of the tower in unavailing search for a way,he met Sir Roger Kirkpatrick issuing from a small door, which, being inshadow, he had hitherto overlooked. It led through the ballium, to theplatform before the citadel. Lord Andrew returned to his uncle andaunt, and informing them of this discovery, gave his arm to Lord Mar,while Kirkpatrick led forward the agitated countess. At this momentthe sun rose behind the purple summit of Ben Lomond.
When they approached the citadel, Wallace and Sir Alexander Scrymgeourhad just gained its summit. The standard of Edward was yet flying.Wallace looked at it for a moment; then laying his hand on the staff,"Down, thou red dragon," cried he, "and learn to bow before the Giverof all victory!" Even while speaking, he rent it from the roof; andcasting it over the battlements, planted the lion of Scotland in itsstead.
As its vast evolvements floated on the air, the cry of triumph, theloud clarion of honest triumph, burst from every heart, horn, andtrumpet below. It was a shout that pierced the skies, and entered thesoul of Wallace with a bliss which seemed a promise of immortality.
"O God!" cried he, still grasping the staff, and looking up to heaven;"we got not this in possession through our own might, but thy righthand and the light of thy countenance overthrew the enemy! Thine theconquest, thine the glory!"
"Thus we consecrate the day to thee, Power of Heaven!" rejoinedScrymgeour. "And let this standard be thine own; and whithersoever webear it, may we ever find it as the ark of our God!"
Wallace, feeling as if no eye looked on them but that of Heaven,dropped on his knee; and rising again, took Sir Alexander by the hand;"My brave friend," said he, "we have here planted the tree of freedomin Scotland. Should I die in its defense, swear to bury me under itsbranches; swear that no enslaved grounds shall cover my remains."
"I swear," cried Scrymgeour, laying his crossed hands upon the arm ofWallace; "I swear with a double vow; by the blood of my braveancestors, whose valor gave me the name I bear; by the cross of St.Andrew; and by your valiant self, never to sheath my sword, while Ihave life in my body, until Scotland be entirely free!"
The colors fixed, Wallace and his brave colleague descended the tower;and perceiving the earl and countess, who sat on a stone bench at theend of the platform, approached them. The countess rose as the chiefsdrew near. Lord Mar took his friend by the hand, with a gratulation inhis eyes that was unutterable; his lady spoke, hardly conscious of whatshe said; and Wallace, after a few minutes' discourse, proposed to theearl to retire with Lady Mar into the citadel, where she would be moresuitably lodged than in their late prison. Lord Mar was obeying thismovement, when suddenly stopping, he exclaimed, "but where is thatwondrous boy--your pilot over these perilous rocks? let me give him asoldier's thanks?"
Happy at so grateful a demand, Wallace beckoned Edwin, who, justrelieved from his guard, was standing at some distance. "Here," saidhe, "is my knight of fifteen! for last night he proved himself moreworthy of his spurs than many a man who has received them from a king."
"He shall wear those of a king," rejoined the Lord Mar, unbuckling fromhis feet a pair of golden spurs; "these were fastened on my heels byour great king, Alexander, at the battle of Largs. I had intended themfor my only son; but the first knight in the cause of rescued Scotlandis the son of my heart and soul!"
As he spoke, he would have pressed the young hero to his breast; butEdwin, trembling with emotion, slid down upon his knees, and claspingthe earl's hand, said, in a hardly audible voice, "Receive and pardonthe truant son of your sister Ruthven!"
"What!" exclaimed the veteran, "is it Edwin Ruthven that has brought methis weight of honor? Come to my arms, thou dearest child of mydearest Janet?"
The uncle and nephew were folded in each other's embrace. Lady Marwept, and Wallace, unable to bear the remembrance which such a scenepressed upon his heart, turned away toward the battlements. Edwinmurmured a short explanation in the ear of his uncle; and then risingfrom his arms, with his beautiful face glittering like an April day intears, allowed his gay cousin Murray to buckle the royal spurs on hisfeet. The rite over, he kissed Lord Andrew's hand in token ofacknowledgment; and called on Sir William Wallace to bless the newhonors conferred on his knight.
Wallace turned toward Edwin, with a smile which partook more of heaventhan of earth. "Have we not performed our mutual promises?" said he;"I brought you to the spot where you were to reveal your name, and youhave declared it to me by the voice of glory! Come, then, my brother,let us leave your uncle awhile to seek his repose."
As he spoke, he bowed to the countess; and Edwin joyfully receiving hisarm, they walked together toward the eastern postern. Agitated withthe delightful surprise of thus meeting his favorite sister's son (whomhe had never seen since his infancy), and exhausted by the variety ofhis late emotions, the earl speedily acquiesced in a proposal for rest,and leaning on Lord Andrew, proceeded to the citadel.
The countess had other attractions: lingering at the side of the roughknight of Torthorald, she looked back, and when she saw the object ofher gaze disappear through the gates, she sighed, and turning to herconductor, walked by him in silence till they joined her husband in thehall of the keep. Murray led the way into the apartments latelyoccupied by De Valence. They were furnished with all the luxury of aSouthron nobleman. Lady Mar cast her eyes around the splendid chamber,and seated herself on one of its tapestried couches. The earl, notmarking whether it were silk or rushes, placed himself beside her.Murray drew a stool toward them, while Kirkpatrick, tired of hisgallant duty, abruptly took his leave.
"My dear Andrew," said the earl, "in the midst of this proud rejoicingthere is yet a canker at my heart. Tell me, that when my beloved Helendisappeared in the tumult at Bothwell, she was under your protection?"
"She was," replied Murray; "and I thank the holy St. Fillan, she is nowin the sanctuary of his church."
Murray then recounted to his relieved uncle every event, from themoment of his withdrawing behind the arras, to that of his confidingthe English soldier with the iron box to the care of the prior. LordMar sighed heavily when he spoke of that mysterious casket. "Whateverit contained," said he, "it has drawn after it much evil and much good.The domestic peace of Wallace was ruined by it; and the spirit whichnow restores Scotland to herself was raised by his wrongs."
"But tell me," added he, "do you think my daughter safe, so near agarrison of the enemy?"
"Surely, my lord," cried the countess, too well remembering theenthusiasm with which Helen had regarded even the unknown Wallace:"surely you would not bring that tender child into a scene like this!Rather send a messenger to convey her secretly to Thirlestan; at thatdistance she will be safe, and under the powerful protection of hergrandfather."
The earl acquiesced in her opinion; and saying he would consult withWallace about the securest mode of travel for his daughter, againturned to Lord Andrew, to learn further of their late proceedings. Butthe countess, still uneasy, once more interrupted him.
"Alas! my lord, what would you do? His generous zeal will offer to goin
person for your daughter. We know not what dangers he might thenincur; and surely the champion of Scotland is not to be thrown intoperil for any domestic concern! If you really feel the weight of theevils into which you have plunged Sir William Wallace, do not increaseit, by even hinting to him the present subject of your anxiety."
"My aunt is an oracle!" resumed Murray. "Allow me to be the happyknight that is to bear the surrender of Dumbarton to my sweet cousin.Prevail on Wallace to remain in this garrison till I return; and thenfull tilt for the walls of old Sterling, and the downfall of HughieCressingham!"
Both the countess and the earl were pleased with this arrangement. Thelatter, by the persuasions of his nephew, retired into an inner chamberto repose; and the former desired Lord Andrew to inform Wallace thatshe should expect to be honored with his presence at noon, to partakeof such fare as the garrison afforded.
On Murray's coming from the citadel, he learned that Wallace was gonetoward the great tower. He followed him thither; and on issuing fromthe postern which led to that part of the rock, saw the chief standing,with his helmet off, in the midst of the slain.
"This is a sorry sight!" said he to Murray, as he approached; "but itshall not long lie thus exposed. I have just ordered that these sadwrecks of human strife may be lowered into the Clyde; its rushingstream will soon carry them to a quiet grave beneath yon peaceful sea."His own dead, amounting to no more than fifteen, were to be buried atthe foot of the rock, a prisoner in the castle having described stepsin the cliff by which the solemnity could easily be performed.
"But why, my dear commander," cried Lord Andrew, "why do you take anythought about our enemies? Leave them where they are, and the eaglesof our mountains will soon find them graves."
"For shame, Murray!" was the reply of Wallace; "they are dead, and ourenemies no more. They are men like ourselves, and shall we deny them aplace in that earth whence we all sprung? We war not with humannature; are we not rather the asserters of her rights?"
"I know," replied Lord Andrew, blushing, "that I am often the asserterof my own folly; and I do not know how you will forgive myinconsiderate impertinence."
"Because it was inconsiderate," replied Wallace. "Inhumanity is toostern a guest to live in such a breast as yours."
"If I ever give her quarters," replied Murray, "I should most wofullydisgrace the companion she must meet there. Next to the honor of fairScotland, my cousin Helen is the goddess of my idolatry; and she wouldforswear my love and kindred, could she believe me capable of feelingotherwise than in unison with Sir William Wallace."
Wallace looked toward him with a benign pleasure in his countenance."Your fair cousin does me honor."
"Ah! my noble friend," cried Murray, lowering his gay tone to one ofsofter expression; "if you knew all the goodness, all the noblenessthat dwells in her gentle heart, you would indeed esteem her--you wouldlove her as I do."
The blood fled from the cheek of Wallace. "Not as you do, Murray; Ican no more love a woman as you love her. Such scenes as these," criedhe, turning to the mangled bodies which the men were now carrying awayto the precipice of the Clyde, "have divorced woman's love from myheart. I am all my country's, or I am nothing."
"Nothing!" reiterated Murray, laying his hand upon that of Wallace, asit rested upon the hilt of the sword on which he leaned. "Is thefriend of mankind, the champion of Scotland, the beloved of a thousandvaluable hearts, nothing? Nay, art thou not the agent of Heaven, to bethe scourge of a tyrant? Art thou not the deliverer of thy country?"
Wallace turned his bright eye upon Murray with an expression of mingledfeelings. "May I be all this, my friend, and Wallace must yet behappy! But speak not to me of love and woman; tell me not of thoseendearing qualities I have prized too tenderly, and which are nowburied to me forever beneath the ashes of Ellerslie."
"Not under the ashes of Ellerslie," cried Murray, "sleep the remains ofyour lovely wife." Wallace's penetrating eye turned quick upon him.Murray continued: "My cousin's pitying soul stretched itself towardthem; by her directions they were brought from your oratory in therock, and deposited, with all holy rites, in the cemetery at Bothwell."
The glow that now animated the before chilled heart of Wallace,overspread his face. His eyes spoke volumes of gratitude, his lipsmoved, but his feelings were too big for utterance, and, ferventlypressing the hand of Murray, to conceal emotions ready to shake hismanhood, he turned away, and walked toward the cliff.
When all the slain were lowered to their last beds, a young priest, whocame in the company of Scrymgeour, gave the funeral benediction both tothe departed in the waves, and those whom the shore had received. Therites over, Murray again drew near to Wallace and delivered his aunt'smessage. "I shall obey her commands," returned he; "but first we mustvisit our wounded prisoners in the tower."
Above three hundred of them had been discovered amongst the dead.
Murray gladly obeyed the impulse of his leader's arm; and, followed bythe chieftains returned from the late solemn duty, they entered thetower. Ireland welcomed Wallace with the intelligence that he hoped hehad succored friends instead of foes, for that most of the prisonerswere poor Welsh peasants, whom Edward had torn from their mountains toserve in his legions; and a few Irish, who in the heat of blood, andeagerness for adventure, had enlisted in his ranks. "I have shown tothem," continued Ireland, "what fools they are to injure themselves inus. I told the Welsh they were clinching their own chains by assistingto extend the dominion of their conqueror; and I have convinced theIrish they were forging fetters for themselves by lending their help toenslave their brother nation, the free-born Scots. They only requireyour presence, my lord, to forswear their former leaders, and to enlistunder Scottish banners."
"Thou art an able orator, my good Stephen," returned Wallace; "andwhatever promises thou hast made to honest men in the name of Scotland,we are ready to ratify them. Is it not so?" added he, turning toKirkpatrick and Scrymgeour.
"All as you will," replied they in one voice. "Yes," addedKirkpatrick; "you were the first to rise for Scotland, and who but youhas a right to command for her?"
Ireland threw open the door which led into the hall, and there, on theground, on pallets of straw, lay most of the wounded Southrons. Someof their dimmed eyes had discerned their preserver, when he discoveredthem expiring on the rock; and on sight of him now, they uttered such apiercing cry of gratitude, that, surprised, he stood for a moment. Inthat moment, five or six of the poor wounded wretches crawled to hisfeet. "Our friend! our preserver!" burst from their lips, as theykissed the edge of his plaid.
"Not to me, not to me!" exclaimed Wallace. "I am a soldier likeyourselves. I have only acted a soldier's part; but I am a soldier offreedom, you of a tyrant, who seeks to enslave the world. This makesthe difference between us; this lays you at my feet, when I would morewillingly receive you into my arms as brothers in one generous cause."
"We are yours," was the answering exclamation of those who knelt, andof those who raised their feebler voices from their beds of straw. Afew only remained silent. With many kind expressions of acceptance,Wallace disengaged himself from those who clung around him, and thenmoved toward the sick, who seemed too ill to speak. While repeatingthe same consolatory language to them, he particularly observed an oldman who was lying between two young ones, and still kept a profoundsilence. His rough features were marked with many a scar, but therewas a meek resignation in her face that powerfully struck Wallace.When the chief drew near, the veteran raised himself on his arm, andbowed his head with a respectful air. Wallace stopped. "You are anEnglishman?"
"I am, sir, and have no services to offer you. These two young men oneach side of me are my sons. There brother I lost last night in theconflict. To-day, by your mercy, not only my life is preserved, but mytwo remaining children also. Yet I am an Englishman, and I cannot begrateful at the expense of my allegiance."
"Nor would I require it of you," returned Wallace; "these brave Welshand Irish were b
rought hither by the invader who subjugates theircountries; they owe him no duty. But you are a free subject ofEngland; he that is a tyrant over others can only be a king to you; hemust be the guardian of your laws, the defender of your liberties, orhis scepter falls. Having sworn to follow a sovereign so plighted, Iam not severe enough to condemn you, because, misled by that phantomwhich he calls glory, you have suffered him to betray you into unjustconquests."
"Once I have been so misled," returned the old man; "but I never willagain. Fifty years I have fought under the British standard, inNormandy and in Palestine; and now in my old age, with four sons, Ifollowed the armies of my sovereign into Scotland. My eldest I lost onthe plains of Dunbar. My second fell last night; and my two youngestare now by my side. You have saved them and me. What can I do? Not,as your noble self says, forswear my country; but this I swear, and inthe oath do you, my sons, join (as he spoke they laid their crossedhands upon his, in token of assent), never to lift an arm against SirWilliam Wallace or the cause of injured Scotland!"
"To this we also subjoin!" cried several other men, who comprised thewhole of the English prisoners.
"Noble people!" cried Wallace, "why have you not a king worthy of you?"
"And yet," observed Kirkpatrick, in a surly tone, "Heselrigge was oneof these people!"
Wallace turned upon him with a look of so tremendous a meaning, that,awed by an expression too mighty for him to comprehend, he fell back afew paces, muttering curses, but on whom could not be heard.
"That man would arouse the tiger in our lion-hearted chief!" whisperedScrymgeour to Murray.
"Ay," returned Lord Andrew; "but the royal spirit keeps the beast inawe--see how coweringly that bold spirit now bows before it!"
Wallace marked the impression his glance had made, but where he hadstruck, being unqilling to pierce also, he dispelled the thunder fromhis countenance, and once more looking on Sir Roger with a frankserenity. "Come," said he, "my good knight; you must not be moretenacious for William Wallace than he is for himself! While hepossesses such a zealous friend as Kirkpatrick of Torthorald, he neednot now fear the arms of a thousand Heselrigges."
"No, nor of Edwards either," cried Kirkpatrick, once more lookingboldly up, and shaking his broad claymore: "My thistle has a point tosting all to death who would pass between this arm and my leader'sbreast."
"May heaven long preserve the valiant Wallace!" was the prayer of everyfeeble voice, as he left the hall to visit his own wounded, in an upperchamber. The interview was short and satisfactory. "Ah! sir," criedone of them, "I cannot tell how it is, but when I see you, I feel as ifI beheld the very soul of my country, or its guardian angel, standingbefore me--a something I cannot describe, but it fills me with courageand comfort!"
"You see an honest Scot standing before you, my good Duncan," repliedWallace; "and that is no mean personage; for it is one who knows no useof his life but as it fulfills his duty to his country!"
"Oh that the sound of that voice could penetrate to every ear inScotland!" rejoined the soldier; "it would be more than the call of thetrumpet to bring them to the field!"
"And from the summit of this rock many have already heard it; and moreshall be so aroused!" cried Murray, returning from the door, to whichone of his men had beckoned him; "here is a man come to announce thatMalcolm, Earl of Lennox, passing by the foot of this rock, saw theScottish standard flying from its citadel; and, as overjoyed as amazedat the sight, he sends to request the confidence of being admitted."
"Let me bring him hither!" interrupted Kirkpatrick; "he is brave as theday, and will be a noble auxiliary."
"Every true Scot must be welcome to these walls," returned Wallace.
Kirkpatrick hastened from the tower to the northern side of the rock,at the foot of which stood the earl and his train. With all the prideof a freeman and a victor, Sir Roger descended the height. Lennoxadvanced to meet him. "What is it I see? Sir Roger Kirkpatrick masterof this citadel, and our king's colors flying from its towers? Whereis the Earl de Valence? Where the English garrison?"
"The English garrison," replied Kirkpatrick, "are now twelve hundredmen beneath the waters of the Clyde. De Valence is fled; and thisfortress, manned with a few hardy Scots, shall sink into yon waves ereit again bear the English dragon on its walls."
"And you, noble knight," cried Lennox, "have achieved all this? Youare the dawn to a blessed day for Scotland!"
"No," replied Kirkpatrick; "I am but a follower of the man who hasstruck the blow. Sir William Wallace of Ellerslie is our chief; andwith the power of his virtues he subdues not only friends, but enemies,to his command."
He then exultingly narrated the happy events of the last four andtwenty hours. The earl listened with wonder and joy. "What!" criedhe, "so noble a plan for Scotland, and I ignorant of it?-I, that havenot waked day or night, for many a month, without thinking or dreamingof some enterprise to free my country--and behold it is achieved in amoment! I see the stroke, as a bolt from Heaven; and I pray Heaven itmay light the sacrifice throughout the nation! Lead me, worthy knight,lead me to your chief, for he shall be mine too: he shall commandMalcolm Lennox and all his clan."
Kirkpatrick gladly turned to obey him; and they mounted the ascenttogether. Within the barbican gate stood Wallace, with Scrymgeour andMurray. The earl knew Scrymgeour well, having often seen him in thefield as hereditary standard-bearer of the kingdom; of the persons ofthe others he was ignorant.
"There is Wallace!" exclaimed Kirkpatrick.
"Not one of those very young men?" interrogated the earl.
"Even so," was the answer of the knight; "but his is the youth of thebrave son of Ammon; gray beards are glad to bow before his goldenlocks, for beneath them is wisdom."
As he spoke they entered the barbican; and Wallace (whom thepenetrating eye of Lennox had already singled out for the chief)advanced to meet his guest.
"Earl," said he, "you are welcome to Dumbarton Castle."
"Bravest of my countrymen!" returned Lennox, clasping him in his arms,"receive a soldier's embrace, receive the gratitude of a loyal heart!accept my service, my arms, my men: my all I devote to Scotland and thegreat cause."
Wallace for a moment did not answer; but warmly straining the earl tohis breast, said, as he released him, "Such support will give sinews toour power. A few months, and with the blessing of that arm which hasalready mowed down the ranks which opposed us, we shall see Scotland atliberty."
"And may Heaven, brave Wallace!" exclaimed Lennox, "grant us thine armto wield its scythe! But how have you accomplished this? How haveyour few overthrown this English host?"
"He strikes home, when right points his sword," replied Wallace; "theinjuries of Scotland were my guide, and justice my companion. Wefeared nothing, for God was with us; we feared nothing, and in hismight we conquered."
"And shall yet conquer!" cried Lennox, kindling with the enthusiasmthat blazed from the eyes of Wallace. "I feel the strength of ourcause; and from this hour, I devote myself to assert it, or to die."
"Not to die! my noble lord," said Murray; "we have yet many an eve todance over the buried fetters of Scotland. And as a beginning of ourjollities, I must remind our leader that my aunt's board awaits him."
Lord Lennox understood from this address it was the brave Murray whospoke to him; for he had heard sufficient from Sir Roger Kirkpatrick toexplain how the Countess of Mar and her patriot husband came withinthose walls.
The countess, having arrayed herself with all her powers to receive herdeliverer, awaited the hour of his arrival with an emotion at herheart, which made it bound against her bosom, when she saw the objectof her splendid toil advancing along the courtyard. All others werelost to her impatient eyes; and hastily rising from the window as thechiefs entered the porch, she crossed the room to meet them at the door.
The Earl of Lennox stood amazed at sight of so much beauty and splendorin such a scene. Lady mar had hardly attained her thirty-fifth year;but from the graces of he
r person, and the address with which she setforth all her charms, the enchanted gazer found it impossible tosuppose her more than three or four and twenty. Thus happily formed bynature, and habited in a suit of velvet, overlaid with Cyprus-work ofgold, blazing with jewels, about her head, and her feet clad insilver-fretted sandals, Lennox thought she looked more like sometriumphant queen, than a wife who had so lately shared captivity withan outlawed husband.** Murray started at such unexpected magnificencein his aunt. But Wallace scarcely observed it was anything unusual,and bowing to her, presented the Earl of Lennox. She smiled; andsaying a few words of welcome to the earl, gave her hand to Wallace tolead her back into the chamber.
**This is the style for state dress worn by noble ladies in thethirteenth century.
Lord Mar had risen from his seat; and leaning on his sword (for hiswarlike arm refused any other staff), stood up on their entrance. Atsight of Lord Lennox, he uttered an exclamation of glad surprise.Lennox embraced him. "I, too, am come to enlist under the banners ofthis young Leonidas."
"God armeth the patriot," was all the reply that Mar made, while thebig tears rolled over his cheek, and he shook him by the hand.
"I have four hundred stout Lennox men," continued the earl, "who byto-morrow's eve shall be ready to follow our leader to the veryborders."
"Not so soon," interrupted the countess; "our deliverer needs repose."
"I thank your benevolence, Lady Mar," returned Wallace; "but the issueof last night, and the sight of Lord Lennox this day, with the promiseof so great a support, are such aliments that--we must go forward."
"Ay, to be sure," joined Kirkpatrick; "Dumbarton was not taken duringour sleep; and if we stay loitering here, the devil that holds StirlingCastle may follow the scent of De Valence; and so I lose my prey!"
"What?" cried the countess, "and is my lord to be left again to hisenemies? Sir William Wallace, I should have thought-"
"Everything, madam," rejoined he; "that is demonstrative of my devotionto your venerable lord! But with a brave garrison, I hope you willconsider him safe here, until a wider range of security be won, toenable you to retire to Braemar."
As the apostrophe to Wallace, in the latter part of the countess'speech, had been addressed to himself in rather a low voice, his replywas made in a similar tone, so that Lord Mar did not hear any part ofthe answer, except the concluding words. But then he exclaimed, "Nay,my ever-fearful Joanna, art thou making objections to keeping garrisonhere?"
"I confess," replied Wallace, "that an armed citadel is not the mostpleasant abode for a lady; but at present, excepting perhaps thechurch, it is the safest; and I would not advise your lady to removehence, until the plain be made as free as this mountain."
The sewer now announced the board in the hall; and the countess leadingthe way, reluctantly gave her hand to the Earl of Lennox. Lord Marleaned on the arm of Wallace, who was followed by Edwin and the otherchieftains.