The Scottish Chiefs

by Jane Porter

  Chapter XXVI.

  Renfrewshire.

  Toward evening the next day, Ker not only returned with the Earl ofLennox's men, but brought with them Sir Eustace Maxwell of Carlaveroch.That brave knight happened to be in the neighborhood the very samenight in which De Valence fled before the arms of Wallace across theClyde; and he no sooner saw the Scottish colors on the walls ofDumbarton, than, finding out who was their planter, his soul took fire;and stung with a generous ambition of equaling in glory his equal inyears, he determined to assist, while he emulated the victor.

  To this end, he traversed the adjoining country, striving to enlightenthe understandings of the stupidly satisfied and to excite thediscontented, to revolt. With most he failed. Some took upon them tolecture him on "fishing in troubled waters;" and warned him, if hewould keep his head on his shoulders, to wear his yoke in peace.Others thought the project too arduous for men of small means; theywished well to the arms of Sir William Wallace; and, should he continuesuccessful, would watch the moment to aid him with all their littlepower. Those who had much property, feared to risk its loss byembracing a doubtful struggle. Some were too great cowards to fightfor the rights they would gladly regain by the exertions of others.And others, again, who had families, shrunk from taking part in a causewhich, should it fail, would not only put their lives in danger, butexpose their offspring to the revenge of a resentful enemy. This wasthe best apology of any that had been offered; natural affection wasthe pleader; and though blinded to its true interest, such weakness hadan amiable source, and so was pardoned. But the other pleas were sobasely selfish, so undeserving of anything but scorn, that Sir EustaceMaxwell could not forbear expressing it. "When Sir William Wallace isentering full sail, you will send your hirelings to tow him in! but ifa plank could save him now, you would not throw it to him! Iunderstand you, sirs, and shall trouble your patriotism no more."

  In short, none but about a hundred poor fellows whom outrages hadrendered desperate, and a few brave spirits who would put all to thehazard for so good a cause, could be prevailed on to hold themselves inreadiness to obey Sir Eustace, when he should see the moment to conductthem to Sir William Wallace. He was trying his eloquence among theclan at Lennox, when Ker arriving, stamped his persuasions with truth;and above five hundred men arranged themselves under their lord'sstandard. Maxwell gladly explained himself to Wallace's lieutenant;and summoning his little reserve, they marched with flying pennonsthrough the town of Dumbarton. At sight of so much larger a power thanthey expected would venture to appear in arms, and sanctioned by theexample of the Earl of Lennox (whose name held a great influence inthose parts), several, who before had held back, from doubting theirown judgment, now came forward; and nearly eight hundred well-appointedmen marched into the fortress.

  So large a reinforcement was gratefully received by Wallace; and hewelcomed Maxwell with a cordiality which inspired that young knightwith an affection equal to his zeal.

  A council being held respecting the disposal of the new troops, it wasdecided that the Lennox men must remain with their earl in garrison;while those brought by Maxwell, and under his command, should followWallace in the prosecution of his conquests along with his own especialpeople.

  These preliminaries being arranged, the remainder of the day wasdedicated to more mature deliberations--to the unfolding of the plan ofwarfare which Wallace had conceived. As he first sketched the generaloutline of his design, and then proceeded to the particulars of eachmilitary movement, he displayed such comprehensiveness of mind; suchdepths of penetration; clearness of apprehension; facility inexpedients; promptitude in perceiving, and fixing on the most favorablepoints of attack; explaining their bearings upon the power of theenemy; and where the possession of such a castle would compel theneighboring ones to surrender; and where occupying the hills with bandsof resolute Scots, would be a more efficient bulwark than a thousandtowers--that Maxwell gazed on him with admiration, and Lennox withwonder.

  Mar had seen the power of his arms; Murray had already drunk theexperience of a veteran from his genius; hence they were not surprisedon hearing that which filled strangers with amazement.

  Lennox gazed on his leader's youthful countenance, doubting whether hereally were listening to military plans, great as general ever formed;or were visited, in vision, by some heroic shade, who offered to hissleeping fancy designs far vaster than his waking faculties could haveconceived. He had thought that the young Wallace might have wonDumbarton by a bold stroke, and that when his invincible courage shouldbe steered by stroke, and that when his invincible courage should besteered by graver heads, every success might be expected from his arms;and saw that when turned to any cause of policy, "the Gordian knot ofit he did unloose, familiar as his garter," he marveled, and saidwithin himself, "Surely this man is born to be a sovereign!"

  Maxwell, though equally astonished, was not so rapt. "You have madearms the study of your life?" inquired he.

  "It was the study of my earliest days," returned Wallace. "But whenScotland lost her freedom, as the sword was not drawn in her defense, Ilooked not where it lay. I then studied the arts of peace; that isover; and now the passion of my soul revives. When the mind is bent onone object only, all becomes clear that leads to it; zeal, in suchcases, is almost genius."

  Soon after these observations, it was admitted that Wallace mightattend Lord mar and his family on the morrow to the Isle of Bute.

  When the dawn broke, he arose from his heather bed in the great tower;and having called forth twenty of the Bothwell men to escort theirlord, he told Ireland he should expect to have a cheering account ofthe wounded on his return.

  "But to assure the poor fellows," rejoined the honest soldier, "thatsomething of yourself still keeps watch over them. I pray you leave methe sturdy sword with which you won Dumbarton. It shall be hung up intheir sight,** and a good soldier's wound will heal by looking on it."

  **This tower, within the fortress of Dumbarton, is still calledWallace's tower; and a sword is shown there as the one that belonged toWallace.

  Wallace smiled. "Were it our holy King David's we might expect such amiracle. But you are welcome to it; and here let it remain till I takeit hence. Meanwhile, lend me yours, Stephen, for a truer never foughtfor Scotland."

  A glow of conscious valor flushed the cheek of the veteran. "There, mydear lord," said he, presenting it; "it will not dishonor your hand,for it cut down many a proud Norwegian on the field of Largs."

  Wallace took the sword, and turned to meet Murray with Edwin in theportal. When they reached the citadel, Lennox and all the officers inthe garrison were assembled to bid their chief a short adieu. Wallacespoke to each separately, and then approaching the countess, led herdown the rock to the horses which were to convey them tot he Frith ofClyde. Lord Mar, between Murray and Edwin, followed; and the servantsand guard completed the suit.

  Being well mounted, they pleasantly pursued their way, avoiding allinhabited places, and resting in the deepest recesses of the hills.Lord Mar proposed traveling all night; but at the close of the eveninghis countess complained of fatigue, declaring she could not advancefurther than the eastern bank of the River Cart. No shelter appearedin sight, excepting a thick and extensive wood of hazels; but the airbeing mild, and the lady declaring her inability of moving on, Lord Marat last became reconciled to his wife and son passing the night with noother canopy than the trees. Wallace ordered cloaks to be spread onthe ground for the countess and her women; and seeing them laid torest, planted his men to keep guard around the circle.

  The moon had sunk in the west before the whole of his little camp wereasleep; but when all seemed composed, he wandered forth by the dimlight of the stars to view the surrounding country--a country he had sooften traversed in his boyish days. A little onward, in greenRenfrewshire, lay the lands of his father; but that Ellerslie of hisancestors, like his own Ellerslie of Clydesdale, his country's enemieshad leveled with the ground. He turned in anguish of heart toward the
south, for there less racking remembrances hovered over the distanthills.

  Leaning on the shattered stump of an old tree, he fixed his eyes on thefar-stretching plain, which alone seemed to divide him from thevenerable Sir Ronald Crawford and his youthful haunts at Ayr. Full ofthoughts of her who used to share those happy scenes, he heard a sighbehind him. He turned round, and beheld a female figure disappearamong the trees. He stood motionless; again it met his view; it seemedto approach. A strange emotion stirred within him. When he lastpassed these borders, he was bringing his bride from Ayr! What thenwas this ethereal visitant? The silver light of the stars was notbrighter than its airy robes, which floated in the wind. His heartpaused--it beat violently--still the figure advanced. Lost in thewilderness of his imagination, he exclaimed, "Marion!" and dartedforward, as if to rush into her embrace. But it fled, and againvanished. He dropped upon the ground in speechless disappointment.

  "'Tis false!" cried he, recovering from his first expectation; "'tis aphantom of my own creating. The pure spirit of Marion would never flyfrom me; I loved her too well. She would not thus redouble my grief.But I shall go to thee, wife of my soul!" cried he; "and that iscomfort. Balm, indeed, is the Christian's hope!"

  Such were his words, such were his thoughts, till the coldness of thehour and the exhaustion of nature putting a friendly seal upon hissenses, he sunk upon the bank, and fell into a profound sleep.

  When he awoke the lark was caroling above his head; and to his surprisehe found a plaid was laid over him. He threw it off, and beheld Edwinseated at his feet. "This has been your doing, my kind brother," saidhe, "but how came you to discover me?"

  "I missed you when the dawn broke, and at last found you here, sleepingunder the dew."

  "And has none else been astir?" inquired Wallace, thinking of thefigure he had seen.

  "None that I know of. All were fast asleep when I left the party."

  Wallace began to fancy that he had been laboring under the impressionsof some powerful dream, and saying no more, he returned to the wood.Finding everybody ready, he took his station; and setting forth, allproceeded cheerfully, though slowly, through the delightful valleys ofBarochan. By sunset they arrived at the point of embarkation. Thejourney ought to have been performed in half the time; but the countesspetitioned for long rests, a compliance with which the younger part ofthe cavalcade conceded with reluctance.