by Jane Porter
Chapter XXXII.
Stirling.
The happy effects of these rapid conquests were soon apparent. Thefall of Berwick excited such a confidence in the minds of theneighboring chieftains, that every hour brought fresh recruits toWallace. Every mouth was full of the praises of the young conqueror;every eye was eager to catch a glimpse of his person; and while the menwere emulous to share his glory, the women in their secret bowers putup prayers for the preservation of one so handsome and so brave.
Amongst the many of every rank and age who hastened to pay theirrespects to the deliverer of Berwick, was Sir Richard Maitland, ofThirlestane, the Stawlart Knight of Lauderdale.**
**Sir Richard Maitland, of the castle of Thirlestane on the Leeder, isnoted in Scottish tradition for his bravery. His valiant defense ofhis castle against the English in his extreme old age, is still thesubject of enthusiasm amongst the people of Lauderdale.
Wallace was no sooner told of the approach of the venerable chief, thanhe set forth to bid him welcome. At sight of the champion of Scotland,Sir Richard threw himself off his horse with a military grace thatmight have become even youthful years; and hastening toward Wallace,clasped him in his arms.
"Let me look on thee!" cried the old knight; "let me feast my eyes onthe true Scot, who again raises this hoary head, so long bent in shamefor its dishonored country!" While he spoke, he viewed Wallace fromhead to foot. "I knew Sir Ronald Crawford, and thy valiant father,"continued he, "O! had they lived to see this day! But the base murderof the one thou hast nobly avenged, and the honorable grave of theother, on Loudon Hill,** thou wilt cover with a monument of thine ownglories. Low are laid my own children, in this land of strife, but inthee I see a son of Scotland that is to dry all our tears."
**Sir Malcolm Wallace, the father of Sir William Wallace, was killed inthe year 1295, on Loudon Hill, in a battle with the English.
He embraced Wallace again and again; and, as the veteran's overflowingheart rendered him garrulous, he expatiated on the energy with whichthe young victor had pursued his conquests, and paralleled them withthe brilliant actions he had seen in his youth. While he thusdiscoursed, Wallace drew him toward the castle, and there presented tohim the two nephews of the Earl of May.
He paid some warm compliments to Edwin on his early success in thecareer of glory; and then turning to Murray: "Ay!" said he, "it is joyto me to see the valiant house of Bothwell in the third generation.Thy grandfather and myself were boys together at the coronation ofAlexander the Second; and that is eighty years ago. Since then, whathave I not seen! the death of two noble Scottish kings! our bloomingprinces ravished from us by untimely fates! the throne sold to acoward, and at last seized by a foreign power! Then, in my own person,I have been the father of as brave and beauteous a family as everblessed a parent's eye; but they are all torn from me. Two of my sonssleep on the plains of Dunbar; my third, my dauntless William, sincethat fatal day, has been kept a prisoner in England. And my daughters,the tender blossoms of my aged years--they grew around me, the fairestlilies of the land: but they, too, are passed away. The one, scorningthe mere charms of youth, and preferring a union with a soul that hadlong conversed with superior regions, loved the sage of Ercildown. Butmy friend lost this rose of his bosom, and I the child of my heart, ereshe had been a year his wife. Then was my last and only daughtermarried to the Lord Mar; and in giving birth to my dear Isabella she,too, died. Ah, my good young knight, were it not for that sweet child,the living image of her mother, who in the very spring of youth wascropped and fell, I should be alone: my hoary head would descend to thegrave, unwept, unregretted!"
The joy of the old man having recalled such melancholy remembrances, hewept upon the shoulder of Edwin, who had drawn so near, that the story,was begun to Murray, was ended to him. To give the mourning fathertime to recover himself, Wallace was moving away, when he was met byKer, bringing information that a youth had just arrived in breathlesshaste from Stirling, with a sealed packet, which he would not deliverinto any hands but those of Sir William Wallace. Wallace requested hisfriends to show every attention to the Lord of Thirlestane, and thenwithdrew to meet the messenger.
On his entering the ante-room, the youth sprung forward, but suddenlychecking himself, he stood as if irresolute whom to address.
"This is Sir William Wallace, young man," said Ker; "deliver yourembassy."
At these words the youth pulled a packet from his bosom, and putting itinto the chief's hand, retired in confusion. Wallace gave orders toKer to take care of him, and then turned to inspect its contents. Hewondered from whom it would come, aware of no Scot in Stirling whowould dare to write to him while that town was possessed by the enemy.But not losing a moment in conjecture, he broke the seal.
How was he startled at the first words! and how was every energy of hisheart roused to redoubled action when he turned to the signature! Thefirst words in the letter were these:
"A daughter, trembling for the life of her father, presumes to addressSir William Wallace." The signature was "Helen Mar." He began theletter again:
"A daughter, trembling for the life of her father, presumes to addressSir William Wallace. Alas! it will be a long letter! for it is to tellof our countless distresses. You have been his deliverer from thesword, from chains, and from the waves. Refuse not to save him againto whom you have so often given life, and hasten, brave Wallace, topreserve the Earl of Mar from the scaffold.
"A cruel deception brought him from the Isle of Bute, where youimagined you had left him in security. Lord Aymer de Valence, escapinga second time from your sword, fled under rapacious robber of all ourcastles, found in him an apt coadjutor. They concerted how to avengeyour late successes; and Cressingham, eager to enrich himself, while heflattered the resentments of his commander, suggested that you, SirWilliam Wallace, our deliverer, and our enemy's scourge, would mosteasily be made to feel through the bosoms of your friends. These cruelmen have therefore determined, by a mock trial, to condemn my father todeath, and thus, while they distress you, put themselves in possessionof his lands, with the semblance of justice.
"The substance of this most unrighteous debate was communicated to meby De Valence himself; thinking to excuse his part in the affair byproving to me how insensible he is to the principles which move alike apatriot and a man of honor.
"Having learned from some too well-informed spy that Lord Mar hadretired in peaceful obscurity to Bute, these arch-enemies to ourcountry sent a body of men disguised as Scots to Gourock. There theydispatched a messenger into the island to inform Lord Mar that SirWilliam Wallace was on the banks of the Frith waiting to converse withhim. My noble father, unsuspicious of treachery, hurried to thesummons. Lady Mar accompanied him, and so both fell into the snare.
"They were brought prisoners to Stirling, where another afflictionawaited him;-he was to see his daughter and his sister in captivity.
"After I had been betrayed from St. Fillian's monastery by thefalsehoods of one Scottish knight, and were rescued from his power bythe gallantry of another, I sought the protection of my aunt, LadyRuthven, who then dwelt at Alloa, on the banks of the Forth. Herhusband had been invited to Ayr by some treacherous requisition of thegovernor, Arnuf; and with many other lords was thrown into prison.Report says, bravest of men, that you have given freedom to my betrayeduncle.
"The moment Lord Ruthven's person was secured, his estates were seized,and my aunt and myself being found at Alloa, we were carried prisonersto this city. Alas! we had then no valiant arm to preserve us from ourenemies! Lady Ruthven's first born son was slain in the fatal day ofDunbar, and in terror of the like fate, she placed her eldest survivingboy in a convent.
"Some days after our arrival, my dear father was brought to Stirling.Though a captive in the town, I was not then confined to any closerdurance than the walls. While he was yet passing through the streets,rumor told my aunt that the Scottish lord then leading to prison washer beloved brother. She flew to me in agony to
tell me the dreadfultidings. I heard no more, saw no more, till, having rushed into thestreets, and bursting through every obstacle of crowd and soldiers, Ifound myself clasped in my father's arms--in his shackled arms! What amoment was that! Where was Sir William Wallace in that hour? Wherethe brave unknown knight, who had sworn to me to seek my father, anddefend him with his life? Both were absent, and he was in chains.
"My grief and distraction baffled the attempts of the guards to partus, and what became of me I know not until I found myself lying on acouch, attended by many women, and supported by my aunt. When I hadrecovered to lamentation and to tears, my aunt told me I was in theapartments of the deputy warden. He, with Cressingham, having gone outto meet the man they had so basely drawn into their toils, De Valencehimself saw the struggles of paternal affection contending against themen who would have torn a senseless daughter from his arms, and yet,merciless man! he separated us, and sent me, with my aunt, a prisonerto his house.
"The next day a packet was put into my aunt's hands, containing a fewprecious lines from my father to me, also a letter from the countess toLady Ruthven, full of your goodness to her and to my father, andnarrating the cruel manner in which they had been ravished from theasylum in which you had placed them. She then said that could she findmeans of apprising you of the danger to which she and her husband arenow involved, she would be sure of a second rescue. Whether she hasblessedly found these means I know not, for all communication betweenus, since the delivery of that letter, has been rendered impracticable.The messenger that brought the packet was a good Southron, who hadbeen won by Lady Mar's entreaties. But on his quitting our apartments,he was seized by a servant of De Valence, and on the same day putpublicly to death, to intimidate all others from the like compassion tothe sufferings of unhappy Scotland. Oh! Sir William Wallace, will notyour sword reach these men of blood?
"Earl de Valence compelled my aunt to yield the packet to him. We hadalready read it, therefore did not regret it on that head, but fearedthe information it might give relative to you. In consequence of thiscircumstance, I was made a closer prisoner. But captivity could haveno terrors for me, did it not divide me from my father. And, grief ongrief! what words have I to write it? they have CONDEMNED HIM TO DIE!That fatal letter of my step-mother's was brought out against him, andas your adherent, Sir William Wallace, they have sentenced him to losehis head!
"I have knelt to Earl de Valence; I have implored my father's life athis hands, but to no purpose. He tells me that Cressingham, at hisside, and Ormsby, by letters from Scone, declare it necessary that anexecution of consequence should be made to appall the discontentedScots; and that as no lord is more esteemed in Scotland than the Earlof Mar, he must be the sacrifice.
"Hasten, then, my father's preserver and friend! hasten to save him!Oh, fly, for the sake of the country he loves; for the sake of thehapless beings dependent on his protection! I shall be on my kneestill I hear your trumpet before the walls; for in you and Heaven nowrest all the hopes of Helen Mar."
A cold dew stood on the limbs of Wallace as he closed the letter. Itmight be too late! The sentence was passed on the earl, and hisexecutioners were prompt as cruel: the ax might already have fallen.
He called to Ker, for the messenger to be brought in. He entered.Wallace inquired how long he had been from Stirling. "Only thirty-fourhours," replied the youth, adding that he had traveled night and dayfor fear the news of the risings in Annandale, and the taking ofBerwick, should precipitate the earl's death.
"I accompany you this instant," cried Wallace! "Ker, see that thetroops get under arms." As he spoke he turned into the room where hehad left the Knight of Thirlestane.
"Sir Richard Maitland," said he, willing to avoid exciting his alarm,"there is more work for us at Stirling. Lord Aymer de Valence hasagain escaped the death we thought had overtaken him, and is now inthat citadel. I have just received a summons thither, which I mustobey." At these words, Sir Roger Kirkpatrick gave a shout and rushedfrom the apartment. Wallace looked after him for a moment, and thencontinued: "Follow us with your prayers, Sir Richard; and I shall notdespair of sending blessed tidings to the banks of the Lauder."
"What has happened?" inquired Murray, who saw that something more thanthe escape of De Valence had been imparted to his general.
"We must spare this good old man," returned he, "and have him conductedto his home before I declare it publicly; but the Earl of Mar is againa prisoner, and in Stirling."
Murray, who instantly comprehended his uncle's danger speeded thedeparture of Sir Richard; and as Wallace held his stirrup, the chieflaid his hand on his head, and blessed him. "The seer of Ercildown istoo ill to bring his benediction himself, but I breathe it over thisheroic brow!" Wallace bowed his head in silence; and the bridle beingin the hand of Lord Andrew, he led the horse out of the eastern gate ofthe town, where, taking leave of the veteran knight, he soon rejoinedhis commander, whom he found in the midst of his chieftains.
He had informed them of the Earl of Mar's danger, and the policy aswell as justice of rescuing so powerful and patriotic a nobleman fromthe threatened execution. Lord Ruthven needed no arguments toprecipitate him to the assistance of his brother and his wife; and theanxieties of the affectionate Edwin were all awake when he knew thathis mother was a prisoner. Lord Andrew smiled proudly when he returnedhis cousin's letter to Wallace. "We shall have the rogue on the nailyet," cried he; "my uncle's brave head is not ordained to fall by thestroke of such a coward!"
"So I believe," replied Wallace; and then turning to Lord Dundaff-"Mylord," said he, "I leave you governor of Berwick."
The veteran warrior grasped Wallace's hand. "To be your representativein this fortress, is the proudest station this warworn frame hath everfilled. My son must be my representative with you in the field." Hewaved Sir John Graham toward him; the young knight advanced, and LordDundaff, placing his son's hands upon his target, continued, "Swear,that as this defends the body, you will ever strive to cover Scotlandfrom her enemies; and that from this hour you will be the faithfulfriend and follower of Sir William Wallace."
"I swear," returned Graham, kissing the shield. Wallace pressed hishand. "I have brothers around me, rather than what the world callsfriends! And with such valor, such fidelity to aid me, can I beotherwise than a victor? Heaven's anointed sword is with suchfellowship!"
Edwin, who stood near this rite of generous enthusiasm, softlywhispered to Wallace, as he turned toward his troops, "But amongst allthese brothers, cease not to remember Edwin--the youngest and the least.Ah, my beloved general, what Jonathan was to David, I would be tothee!"
Wallace looked on him with penetrating tenderness; his heart wassuddenly wrung by a recollection, which the words of Edwin hadrecalled. "But thy love, Edwin, passes not the love of woman!" "Butit equals it," replied he; "what has been done for thee I would do;only love me as David did Jonathan, and I shall be the happiest of thehappy." "Be happy then, dear boy!" answered Wallace; "for all thatever beat in human breast, for friend or brother, lives in my heart forthee."
At that moment Sir John Graham rejoined them; and some other captainscoming up. Wallace made the proper military dispositions, and everyman took his station at the head of his division.
Until the men had marched far beyond the chance of rumors reachingThirlestane, they were not informed of the Earl of Mar's danger. Theyconceived their present errand was the recapture of De Valence. "Butat a proper moment," said Wallace, "they shall know the whole truth;for," added he, "as it is a law of equity, that what concerns all,should be approved by all, and that common dangers should be repelledby united efforts, the people who follow our standards, not ashirelings, but with willing spirits, ought to know our reasons forrequiring their services."
"They who follow you," said Graham, "have too much confidence in theirleader, to require any reasons for his movements."
"It is to place that confidence on a sure foundation, my bravefriends," returned Wallace, "
that I explain what there is no justreason to conceal. Should policy ever compel me to strike a blowwithout previously telling my agents wherefore, I should then draw upontheir faith, and expect that confidence in my honor and arms which Inow place on their discretion and fidelity."
Exordiums were not requisite to nerve every limb, and to strengthenevery heart in the toilsome journey. Mountains were climbed, vastplains traversed, rivers forded, and precipices crossed, without oneman in the ranks lingering on its steps, or dropping his head upon hispike, to catch a moment's slumber. Those who had fought with Wallace,longed to redouble their fame under his command; and they who hadrecently embraced his standard, panted with a virtuous ambition torival those first-born in arms.
Sir Roger Kirkpatrick had been the first to fly to arms, on the marchto Stirling being mentioned; and when Wallace stood forward to declarethat rest should be dispensed with till Stirling fell, full of a fiercejoy, the ardent knight darted over every obstacle to reach his aim. Heflew to the van of his troops, and hailing them forward: "Come on!"cried he, "and in the blood of Cressingham let us forever sink KingEdward's Scottish crown."
The shouts of the men, who seemed to drink in the spirit that blazedfrom Kirkpatrick's eyes, made the echoes of Lammermuir ring with along-estranged noise. It was the voice of liberty. Leaping everybound, the eager van led the way; and, with prodigious perseverance,dragging their war-machines in the rear, the rest pressed on, till theyreached the Carron side. At the moment the foaming steed of Wallace,smoking with the labors of a long and rapid march, was plunging intothe stream to take the form, Ker snatched the bridle of the horse: "Mylord," cried he, "a man on full speed from Douglas Castle has broughtthis packet."
In his march to Ayr, Wallace had left Sir Eustace Maxwell governor ofthat castle, and Monteith as his lieutenant.
Wallace opened the packet and read as follows:
"The patriots in Annandale have been beaten by Lord de Warenne. SirJohn Monteith (who volunteered to head them) is taken prisoner, withtwelve hundred men.
"Earl de Warenne comes to resume his arrogant title of Lord Warden ofScotland, and thereby to relieve his deputy, Aymer de Valence, who isrecalled to take possession of the lordship of Pembroke. In pursuanceof his usurping commission, the earl is now marching rapidly toward theLothians, in the hope of intercepting you in your progress.
"Thanks to the constant information you send us of your movements, forbeing able to surprise you of this danger! I should have attempted tohave checked the Southron, by annoying his flanks, had not his numbersrendered such an enterprise on my part hopeless. But his aim being tocome up with you, if you meet him in the van, we shall have him in therear; and, so surrounded, he must be cut to pieces. Surely the treeyou planted in Dumbarton, is not now to be blasted!
"Ever your general's and Scotland's true servant,
"Eustace Maxwell."
"What answer?" inquired Ker.
Wallace hastily engraved with his dagger's point upon his gauntlet,"Reviresco!** Our sun is above!" and desiring it to be given to themessenger to carry to Sir Eustace Maxwell, he refixed himself in hissaddle, and spurred over the Carron.
**Reviresco! means "I bud again!" This encouraging word is now thereuto of the Maxwell arms.
The moon was near her meridian as the wearied troops halted on the deepshadows of the Carse of Stirling. All around them was desolation; thesword and the fire had been there, not in open declared warfare, butunder the darkness of midnight, and impelled by rapacity andwantonness; hence from the base of the rock, even to the foot of theClackmannan Hills, all lay a smoking wilderness.
An hour's rest was sufficient to restore every exhausted power to thelimbs of the determined followers of Wallace; and, as the morningdawned, the sentinels on the ramparts of the town were not onlysurprised to see a host below, but that (by the most indefatigablelabor, and a silence like death) had not merely passed the ditch, buthaving gained the counterscarp, had fixed their movable towers, andwere at that instant overlooking the highest bastions. The mangonelsand petraries, and other implements for battering walls, and theballista, with every efficient means of throwing missive weapons, wereready to discharge their artillery upon the heads of the beseiged.
At a sight so unexpected, which seemed to have arisen out of the earthlike an exhalation (with such muteness and expedition had the Scottishoperations been carried on), the Southrons, struck with dread, fled amoment from the walls; but immediately recovering their presence ofmind, they returned, and discharged a cloud of arrows upon theirassailants. A messenger, meanwhile, was sent into the citadel toapprise De Valence and the Governor Cressingham of the assault. Theinterior gates now sent forth thousands to the walls; but in proportionto the numbers which approached, the greater was the harvest of deathprepared for the terrible arm of Wallace, whose tremendous war wolvesthrowing prodigious stones, and lighter springalls, casting forthbrazen darts, swept away file after file of the reinforcements. Itgrieved the noble heart of the Scottish commander to see so manyvaliant men urged to inevitable destruction; but still they advanced,and that his own might be preserved they must fall. To shorten thebloody contest, his direful weapons were worked with redoubled energy;and so mortal a shower fell that the heavens seemed to rain iron. Thecrushed and stricken enemy, shrinking under the mighty tempest, forsooktheir ground.
The ramparts deserted, Wallace sprung from his tower upon the walls.At that moment De Valence opened one of the gates; and, at the head ofa formidable body, charged the nearest Scots. A good soldier is nevertaken unawares, and Murray and Graham were prepared to receive him.Furiously driving him to a retrograde motion, they forced him back intothe town. But there all was confusion. Wallace, with his resolutefollowers, had already put Cressingham and his legions to flight; and,closely pursued by Kirkpatrick, they threw themselves into the castle.Meanwhile, the victorious Wallace surrounded the amazed De Valence,who, caught in double toils, called to his men to fight for their king,and neither give nor take quarter.
The brave fellows too strictly obeyed; and while they fell on allsides, he supported them with a courage which horror of Wallace'svengeance for his grandfather's death, and the attempt on his own lifein the hall at Dumbarton, rendered desperate. At last he encounteredthe conquering chief, arm to arm. Great was the dismay of De Valenceat this meeting; but as death was now all he saw before him, heresolved, if he must die, that the soul of his enemy should attend himto the other world.
He fought, not with the steady valor of a warrior determined tovanquish or die; but with the fury of despair, with the violence of ahyena, thirsting for the blood of his opponent. Drunk with rage, hemade a desperate plunge at the heart of Wallace--a plunge, armed withexecrations, and all his strength; but his sword missed its aim, andentered the side of a youth, who at that moment had thrown himselfbefore his general. Wallace saw where the deadly blow fell; andinstantly closing on the earl--with a vengeance in his eyes, whichreminded his now determined victim of the horrid vision he had seen inthe burning Barns of Ayr--with one grasp of his arm, the incensed chiefhurled him to the ground; and setting his foot upon his breast, wouldhave buried his dagger there, had not De Valence dropped his upliftedsword, and with horror in every feature, raised his clasped hands inspeechless supplication.
Wallace suspended the blow; and De Valence exclaimed: "My life! thisonce again, gallant Wallace! by your hopes of heaven, grant me mercy!"
Wallace looked on the trembling recreant with a glare, which, had hepossessed the soul of a man, would have made him grasp at death, ratherthan deserve a second. "And hast thou escaped me again?" criedWallace. Then turning his indignant eyes from the abject earl to hisbleeding friend-"I yield him his life, Edwin, and you, perhaps, areslain?"
"Forget not our own bright principle to avenge me," said Edwin, asbrightly smiling; "he has only wounded me. But you are safe, and Ihardly feel a smart."
Wallace replaced his dagger in his girdle. "Rise, Lord de Valence; itis my honor, not my w
ill, that grants your life. You threw away yourarms! I cannot strike even a murderer who bares his breast. I giveyou that mercy you denied to nineteen unoffending, defenseless old men,whose hoary heads your ruthless ax brought with blood to the ground.Let memory be the sword I have withheld!"
While he spoke, De Valence had risen, and stood, conscience-stricken,before the majestic mien of Wallace. There was something in thisdenunciation that sounded like the irreversible decree of a divinity;and the condemned wretch quaked beneath the threat, while he panted forrevenge.
The whole of the survivors in De Valence's train having surrenderedthemselves when their leader fell, in a few minutes Wallace wassurrounded by his chieftains, bringing in the colors, and the swords oftheir prisoners.
"Sir Alexander Ramsay," said he, to a brave and courteous knight, whowith his kinsman, William Blair, had joined him in the Lothians; "Iconfide Earl de Valence, to your care. See that he is stronglyguarded; and has every respect according to the honor of him to whom Icommit this charge."
The town was now in possession of the Scots; and Wallace, having sentoff the rest of his prisoners to safe quarters, reiterated hispersuasions to Edwin, to have the ground, and submit his wounds to thesurgeon. "No, no," replied he; "the same hand that gave me this,inflicted a worse on my general at Dumbarton: he kept the field then;and shall I retire now, and disgrace my example? No, my brother; youwould not have me so disprove my kindred!"
"Do as you will," answered Wallace, with a grateful smile; "so that youpreserve a life that must never again be risked to save mine. While itis necessary for me to live, my Almighty Captain will shield me; butwhen his word goes forth, that I shall be recalled, it will not be inthe power of friendship, nor of hosts, to turn the steel from mybreast. Therefore, dearest Edwin, thrown not yourself away, indefending what is in the hands of Heaven--to be lent, or to be withdrawnat will."
Edwin bowed his modest head; and having suffered a balsam to be pouredinto his wound, braced his brigandine over his breast; and was again atthe side of his friend, just as he had joined Kirkpatrick before thecitadel. The gates were firmly closed, and the dismayed Cressinghamwas panting behind its walls, as Wallace commanded the parley to besounded. Afraid of trusting himself within arrow-shot of an enemy whohe believed conquered by witchcraft, the terrified governor sent hislieutenant up on the walls to answer the summons.
The herald of the Scots demanded the immediate surrender of the place.Cressingham was at that instant informed by a messenger, who hadarrived too late the preceding night to be allowed to disturb hisslumbers, that De Warenne was approaching with an immense army.Inflated with new confidence, he mounted the wall himself, and inhaughty language, returned for answer, "That he would fall under thetowers of the citadel before he would surrender to a Scottish rebel.And as an example of the fate which such a delinquent merits,"continued he, "I will change the milder sentence passed on Lord Mar,and immediately hang him, and all his family, on these ramparts, insight of your insurgent army."
"Then," cried the herald, "thus says Sir William Wallace--if even onehair on the heads of the Earl of Mar and his family falls with violenceto the ground, every Southron soul who has this day surrendered to theScottish arms shall lose his head by the ax."
"We are used to the blood of traitors," cried Cressingham, "and mindnot its scent. But the army of Earl de Warenne is at hand; and it isat the peril of all your necks, for the rebel, your master, to put histhreat in execution. Withdraw, or you shall see the dead bodies ofDonald Mar and his family fringing these battlements; for no terms dowe keep with man, woman, or child, who is linked with treason!"
At these words, an arrow, winged from a hand behind Cressingham, flewdirectly to the unvisored face of Wallace, but it struck too high, andringing against his helmet fell to the ground.
"Treachery!" resounded from every Scottish lip; while indignant at sovillainous a rupture of the parley, every bow was drawn to the head;and a flight of arrows, armed with retribution, flew toward thebattlements. All hands were now at work, to bring the towers to thewall; and mounting on them, while the archers by their rapid showersdrove the men from the ramparts, soldiers below, with pickaxes, duginto the wall to make a breach.
Cressingham began to fear that his boasted auxiliaries might arrive toolate; but, determining to gain time at least, he shot flights of darts,and large stones, from a thousand engines; also discharged burningcombustibles over the ramparts, in hopes of setting fire to the enemy'sattacking machines.
But all his promptitude proved of no effect. The walls were giving wayin parts, and Wallace was mounting by scaling-ladders, and clasping theparapets with bridges from his towers. Driven to extremity,Cressingham resolved to try the attachment of the Scots for Lord Mar;and even at the moment when their chief had seized the barbican andouter ballium, this sanguinary politician ordered the imprisoned earlto be brought out upon the wall of the inner ballia. A rope was roundhis neck, which was instantly run through a groove, that projected fromthe nearest tower.
At this sight, horror froze the ardent blood of Wallace. But theintrepid earl, descrying his friend on the ladder which might sooncarry him to the summit of the battlement, exclaimed, "Forward! Letnot my span of life stand between my country and this glorious day forScotland's freedom!"
"Execute the sentence!" cried the infuriate Cressingham.
At these words, Murray and Edwin precipitated themselves upon theramparts, and mowed down all before them, in a direction toward theiruncle. The lieutenant who held the cord, aware of the impolicy of thecruel mandate, hesitated to fulfill it; and now, fearing a rescue fromthe impetuous Scots, hurried his victim off the works, back to hisprison. Meanwhile, Cressingham perceiving that all would be lostshould he suffer the enemy to gain this wall also, sent such numbersupon the brave Scots who had followed the cousins, that, overcomingsome, and repelling others, they threw Murray, with a sudden shock,over the ramparts. Edwin was surrounded; and his successfuladversaries were bearing him off, struggling and bleeding, whenWallace, springing like a lioness on hunters carrying away her young,rushed in singly amongst them. He seized Edwin; and while his falchionflashed terrible threatenings in their eyes, with a backward step hefought his passage to one of the wooden towers he had fastened to thewall.
Cressingham, being wounded in the head, commanded a parley to besounded.
"We have already taken Lord de Valence and his host prisoners,"returned Wallace; "and we grant you no cessation of hostilities tillyou deliver up the Earl of Mar and his family, and surrender the castleinto our hands."
"Think not, proud boaster!" cried the herald of Cressingham, "that weask a parley to conciliate. It was to tell you that if you do not drawoff directly, not only the Earl of Mar and his family, but everyScottish prisoner within these walls, shall perish in your sight."
While he yet spoke, the Southrons uttered a great shout, and the Scotslooking up, beheld several high poles erected on the roof of the keep,and the Earl of Mar, as before, was led forward. But he seemed nolonger the bold and tranquil patriot. He was surrounded by shriekingfemale forms, clinging to his knees; and his trembling hands werelifted to heaven, as if imploring its pity.
"Stop!" cried Wallace, in a voice whose thundering mandate rung fromtower to tower. "The instant he dies, Lord Aymer de Valence shallperish!"
He had only to make the sign, and in a few minutes that noblemanappeared between Ramsay and Kirkpatrick. "Earl," exclaimed Wallace,"though I granted your life in the field with reluctance, yet here I amashamed to put it in danger. But your own people compel me. Look atthat spectacle. A venerable father, in the midst of his family; he andthey doomed to an ignominious and instant death, unless I betray mycountry and abandon these walls. Were I weak enough to purchase theirlives at such an expense, they could not survive that disgrace. Butthat they shall not die, while I have the power to preserve them, is myresolve and my duty! Life, then, for life; yours for this family!"
Wallace, directing his voice t
oward the keep:
"The moment," cried he, "in which that vile cord presses too closely onthe neck of the Earl of Mar, or any of his blood, the ax shall severthe head of Lord de Valence from his body!"
De Valence was now seen on the top of one of the besieging towers. Hewas pale as death. He trembled, but not with dismay only; ten thousandvarying emotions tore his breast. To be thus set up as a monument ofhis own defeat, to be threatened with execution by an enemy he hadcontemned, to be exposed to such indignities by the unthinking ferocityof his colleague, filled him with such contending passions of revengeagainst friends and foes, that he forgot the present fear of death inturbulent wishes to deprive of life all by whom he suffered.
Cressingham became alarmed on seeing the retaliating menace of Wallacebrought so directly before his view; and, dreading the vengeance of DeValence's powerful family, he ordered a herald to say that if Wallacewould draw off his troops to the outer ballium, and the English chiefalong with them, the Lord Mar and his family should be taken from theirperilous situation, and he would consider on terms of surrender.
Aware that Cressingham only wanted to gain time until De Warenne shouldarrive, Wallace determined to foil him with his own weapons, and makethe gaining of the castle the consequence of vanquishing the earl. Hetold the now perplexed governor that he should consider Lord de Valenceas the hostage of safety for Lord Mar and his family, and therefore heconsented to withdraw his men from the inner ballium till the settingof the sun, at which hour he should expect a herald with the surrenderof the fortress.
Thinking that he had caught the Scottish chief in a snare, and that thelord warden's army would be upon him long before the expiration of thearmistice, Cressingham congratulated himself upon this maneuver; andresolving that the moment Earl de Warenne should appear, Lord Marshould be secretly destroyed in the dungeons, he ordered them to theirsecurity again.
Wallace fully comprehended what were his enemy's views, and what oughtto be his own measures, as soon as he saw the unhappy group disappearfrom the battlements of the keep. He then recalled his men from theinner ballium wall, and stationing several detachments along theramparts, and in the towers of the outer wall, committed De Valence tothe stronghold of the barbican, under the especial charge of LordRuthven, who was, indeed, eager to hold the means in his own hand thatwere to check the threatened danger of relatives so dear to him as werethe prisoners in the castle.