The Scottish Chiefs

by Jane Porter

  Chapter XLVIII.

  Loch Awe.

  It was on the eve of St. Nicholas that the boat which contained Wallacedrew near to the coast of Fife. A little of the right towered thetremendous precipice of Kinghorn.

  "Behold, Edwin," said he, "the cause of all our woe! From thosehorrible cliffs fell the best of kings, the good Alexander. My fatheraccompanied him in that fatal ride, and was one of the unhappy groupwho had the evil hap to find his mangled body among the rocks below."

  "I have heard," observed Graham, "that the sage of Ercildown prophesiedthis dreadful calamity to Scotland."

  "He did prognosticate," replied Wallace, "that on the eighteenth ofApril, a storm should burst over this land which would lay the countryin ruins. Fear seized the farmers; but his prophecy regarded a noblerobject than their harvests. The day came, rose unclouded, andcontinued perfectly serene. Lord March, to whom the seer had presagedthe event, at noon reproached him with the unlikeliness of itscompletion. But even at the moment he was ridiculing the sage, a manon a foaming steed arrived at the gate, with tidings that the king hadaccidentally fallen from the precipice of Kinghorn, and was killed.'This,' said the Lord of Ercildown, 'is the scathing wind and dreadfultempest which shall long blow calamity and trouble on the realm ofScotland!' And surely his words have been verified, for still thestorm rages around our borders--and will not cease, I fear, till thepresent dragon of England be laid as low as our noble lion was by thatmysterious blast."**

  **Alexander III. was killed in this manner on the 18th of April, 1290,just seven years before the consequent calamities of his country madeit necessary for Wallace to rise in its defense.

  The like discourse held the friends till they landed at Roseyth Castle,where they lodged for the night; and next morning recommencing theirjourney at daybreak, they crossed the Lomonds under a wintery sun, andentered Perth in the midst of a snow-storm.

  The regent's arrival soon spread throughout the province, and the hallof the castle was speedily crowded with chieftains, come to pay theirrespects to their benefactor; while an army of grateful peasantry fromthe hills filled the suburbs of the town, begging for one glance onlyof their beloved lord. To oblige them, Wallace mounted his horse, andbetween the Lords Ruthven and Athol, with his bonnet off, rode from thecastle to the populace-covered plain, which lay to the west of thecity. He gratified their affectionate eagerness by this condescension,and received in return the sincere homage of a thousand gratefulhearts. The snow-topped Grampians echoed with the proud acclamationsof "Our deliverer," "Our prince," "The champion of Scotland," "Theglorious William Wallace!" and the shores of the Tay resounded withsimilar rejoicings at sight of him who made the Scottish seamen lordsof the Northern Ocean.

  Ruthven beheld this eloquence of nature with sympathetic feelings. Hisjust sense of the unequaled merits of the regent had long internallyacknowledged him as his sovereign; and he smiled with approbation atevery breathing amongst the people which intimated what would at lastbe their general shout. Wallace had proved himself not only a warriorbut a legislator. In the midst of war he had planted the fruits ofpeace, and now the olive and the vine waved abundant on every hill.

  Different were the thoughts of the gloomy Athol as he rode by the sideof the regent. Could he by a look have blasted those valiant arms--havepalsied that youthful head, whose judgment shamed the hoariesttemples--gladly would he have made Scotland the sacrifice so that hemight never again find himself in the triumphant train of one whom hedeemed a boy and an upstart! Thus did he muse, and thus did envy opena way into his soul for those demons to enter which were so soon topossess it with the fellest designs.

  The issue of Ruthven's claims did not lessen Lord Athol's hatred of theregent. Wallace simply stated the case to him, only changing thesituations of the opponents; he supposed Athol to be in the place ofRuthven and then asked the frowning earl if Ruthven had demanded agovernment which Athol had bravely won and nobly secured, whether heshould deem it just to be sentenced to relinquish it into the hands ofhis rival? By this question he was forced to decide against himself.But while Wallace generously hoped that, by having made him his ownjudge, he had found an expedient both to soften the pain ofdisappointment and to lessen the humiliation of defeat, he had onlyredoubled the hatred of Athol, who thought he had thus been cajoled outof even the privilege of complaint. He, however, affected to bereconciled to the issue of the affair, and, taking a friendly leave ofthe regent, retired to Blair; and there, amongst the numerousfortresses which owned his power--amongst the stupendous strongholds ofnature, the cloud invested mountains and the labyrinthine winding ofhis lochs and streams--he determined to pass his days and nights indevising the sure fall of this proud usurper; for so the bitterness ofan envy he durst not yet breathe to any impelled him internally todesignate the unpretending Wallace.

  Meanwhile, the unconscious object of this hatred, oppressed by theoverwhelming crowds constantly assembling at Perth to do him homage,retired to Huntingtower--a castle of Lord Ruthven's, at some distancefrom the town. Secluded from the throng, he there arranged, with thechiefs of several clans, matters of consequence to the internal reposeof the country; but receiving applications for similar regulations fromthe counties further north, he decided on going thither himself.Severe as the weather was at that season, he bade adieu to the warmhospitalities of Huntingtower, and, accompanied by Graham and his youngfriend Edwin, with a small but faithful train he commenced a journeywhich he intended should comprehend the circuit of the Highlands.

  With the chieftain of almost every castle in his progress he passed aday, and according to the interest which the situation of thesurrounding peasantry created in his mind he lengthened his sojourn.Everywhere he was welcomed with enthusiasm, and his glad eye beheld thefestivities of Christmas with a delight which recalled past emotions,till they wrung his heart.

  The last day of the old year he spent with Lord Loch-awe, in KichurnCastle; and after a bounteous feast, in which lord and vassal joined,sat up the night to hail the coming in of the new season. Wallace hadpassed that hour, twelve months ago, alone with his Marion. They sattogether in the window of the eastern tower of Ellerslie: and while helistened to the cheerful lilts to which their servants were dancing,the hand of his lovely bride was clasped in his. Marion smiled andtalked of the happiness which should await them in the year to come."Ay, my beloved," answered he, "more than thy beauteous self will thenfill these happy arms! Thy babe, my wife, will then hand at thy bosom,to bless with a parent's joys thy grateful husband!"

  That time was now come round, and where was Marion?-cold in the grave.Where that smiling babe?-a murderer's steel had reached it ere it sawthe light.

  Wallace groaned at these recollections; he struck his hand forcibly onhis bursting heart, and fled from the room. The noise of the harps,the laughing of the dancers, prevented his emotions from beingobserved; and rushing far from the joyous tumult, till its sounds diedin the breeze, or were only brought to his ear by fitful gusts, hespeeded along the margin of the lake, as if he would have flown evenfrom himself. But memory, racking memory, followed him. Throwinghimself on a bank, over which the ice hung in pointed masses, he feltnot the roughness of the ground, for all within him was disturbed andat war.

  "Why," cried he, "O! why was I selected for this cruel sacrifice? Whywas this heart, to whom the acclaim of multitudes could bring noselfish joy--why was it to be bereft of all that ever made it beat withtransport? Companion of my days, partner of my soul! my lost, lostMarion! And are thine eyes forever closed on me? Shall I never moreclasp that hand which ever thrilled my frame with every sense ofrapture? Gone, gone forever--and I am alone!"

  Long and agonizing was the pause which succeeded to this fearfultempest of feeling. In that hour of grief, renewed in all its formerviolence, he forgot country, friends and all on earth. Therecollection of his fame was mockery to him; for where was she to whomthe sound of his praises would have given so much joy?

  "Ah!" said he, "i
t was indeed happiness to be brightened in those eyes!When the gratitude of our poor retainers met thine ear, how didst thoulay thy soft cheek to mine, and shoot its gentle warmth into my heart!"At that moment he turned his face on the gelid bank; starting withwild horror, he exclaimed, "Is it now so cold? My Marion, my murderedwife!" and, rushing from the spot, he again hastened along the marginof the loch. But there he still heard the distant sound of the pipesfrom the castle; he could not bear their gay notes; and, darting up thehill which overhung Loch-awe's domain, he ascended, with swift andreckless steps, the rocky sides of Ben Cruachan. Full of distractingthoughts, and impelled by a wild despair, he hurried from steep tosteep, and was rapidly descending the western side of the mountain,regardless of the piercing sleet, when his course was suddenly checkedby coming with a violent shock against another human being, who,running as hastily through the storm, had driven impetuously againstWallace; but, being the weaker of the two, was struck to the ground.The accident rallied the scattered senses of the chief. He now feltthat he was out in the midst of a furious winter tempest, had wanderedhe knew not whither, and probably had materially injured some poortraveler by his intemperate motion.

  He raised the fallen man, and asked whether he were hurt. Thetraveler, perceiving by the kind tone of the inquirer that no harm hadbeen intended, answered, "Not much, only a little lamed, and all therecompense I ask for this unlucky upset is to give me a helping hand tomy father's cot--it is just by. I have been out at a neighbor's todance in the new year with a bonny lass, who, however, may not thankyou for my broken shins!"

  As the honest lad went on telling his tale, with a great manyparticulars dear to his simple wishes, Wallace helped him along; andcarefully conducting him through the gathering snow, descended thedeclivity which led to the shepherd's cottage. When within a few yardsof it, Wallace heard the sound of singing, but it was not the gaycaroling of mirth; the solemn chant of more serious music mingled withthe roaring blast.

  "I am not too late yet!" cried the communicative lad; "I should nothave run so fast had I not wanted to get home in time enough to makeone in the New-year's hymn."

  They had now arrived at the little door, and the youth, without theceremony of knocking, opened the latch; as he did so, he turned andsaid to his companion, "We have no occasion for bolts, since the braveLord Wallace has cleared the country of our Southron robbers." Hepushed the door as he spoke, and displayed to the eyes of the chief avenerable old man on his knees before a crucifix; around him knelt afamily of young people and an aged dame, all joining in the sacredthanksgiving. The youth, without a word, dropped on his knees near thedoor, and making a sign to his companion to do the same, Wallaceobeyed; and as the anthems rose in succession on the ear, to which thelow breathings of the lightly touched harp echoed its heavenly strains,he felt the tumult of his bosom gradually subside; and when thevenerable sire laid down the instrument and clasped his hands inprayer, the natural pathos of his invocations, and the gratefuldevotions with which the young people gave their response, all tendedto tranquilize his mind into a holy calm.

  At the termination of the concluding prayer, how sweet were theemotions of Wallace when he heard these words, uttered with augmentedfervor by the aged petitioner!

  "While we thus thank thee, O gracious God! for the mercies bestowedupon us, we humbly implore thee to hold in thine Almighty protectionhim by whose arm thou has wrought the deliverance of Scotland. Let ourpreserver be saved from his sins by the blood of Christ! Let ourbenefactor be blessed in mind, body, and estate, and all prosper withhim that he takes in hand! May the good he has dispensed to hiscountry be returned four-fold into his bosom; and may he live to see arace of his own reaping the harvest of his virtues, and adding freshhonors to the stalwart name of Wallace!"

  Every mouth echoed a fervent amen to this prayer, and Wallace himselfinwardly breathed, "And have I not, even now, sinned, all-gracious God!in the distraction of this night's remembrance? I mourned--I would notbe comforted. But in thy mercy thou hast led me hither to see thehappy fruits of my labors; and I am resigned and thankful!"

  The sacred rites over, two girls ran to the other side of the room, andbetween them brought forward a rough table covered with dishes andbread; while the mother, taking off a large pot, emptied its smokingcontents into the different vessels. Meanwhile the young man,introducing the stranger to his father, related the accident of themeeting, and the good old shepherd, bidding him a hearty welcome,desired him to draw near the fire and partake of their New-year'sbreakfast.

  "We need the fire, I assure you," cried the lad, "for we are dripping."

  Wallace now advanced from the shadowed part of the room, where he hadknelt, and drawing toward the light, certainly displayed to his hostthe truth of his son's observation. He had left the castle without hisbonnet, and hurrying on regardless of the whelming storm, his hairbecame saturated with wet, and now streamed in water over hisshoulders. The good old wife, seeing the stranger's situation wasworse than her son's snatched away the bottle out of which he wasswallowing a heavy cordial, and poured it over the exposed head of herguest; then ordering one of her daughters to rub it dry, she took offhis plaid, and wringing it, hung it to the fire.

  During these various operations--for the whole family seemed eager toshow their hospitality--the old man discovered, not so much by thecostliness of his garments as by the noble mien and gentle manners ofthe stranger, that he was some chieftain from the castle. "Yourhonor," said he, "must pardon the uncourtliness of our ways; but wegive you the best we have: and the worthy Lord Loch-awe cannot do more."

  Wallace gave smiling answers to all their remarks, and offers ofservice. He partook of their broth, praised the good wife's cakes, andsat discoursing with the family with all the gayety and frankness ofone of themselves. His unreserved manners opened every heart aroundhim, and with confidential freedom the venerable shepherd related hisdomestic history, dwelling particularly on the projected marriages ofhis children, which he said, "should now take place, since the good SirWilliam Wallace had brought peace to the land."

  Wallace gratified the worthy father, he appearing to take an interestin all his narratives, and then allowing the happy spirits of the youngpeople to break in upon these graver discussions, he smiled with them,or looked serious with the garrulous matron, who turned the discourseto tales of other times. He listened with complacency to every legendof witch, fairy, and ghost; and his enlightened remarks sometimespointed out natural causes for the extraordinary appearances shedescribed; or, at better--attested and less equivocal accounts ofsupernatural apparitions, he acknowledged that there are "more thingsin heaven and earth than are dreamed of in philosophy."

  Morning dawned before the tranquilized, nay, happy Wallace, happy inthe cheerful innocence of the scene, discovered that the night waspast. As the gray light gleamed through the wooden shutters he arose."My friends, I must leave you," said he; "there are those not far offwho may be alarmed at my disappearance, for none knew when I walkedabroad, and unwittingly I have been charmed all these hours to remain,enjoying the happiness of your circle, forgetful of the anxiety I haveperhaps occasioned in my own."

  The old man declared his intention of seeing him over the hill.Wallace declined giving him that trouble, saying that as it wasdaylight, and the snow had ceased, he could easily retrace his steps tothe castle.

  "No, no," returned the shepherd; "and besides," said he, "as I hear thegood lord regent is keeping the New Year with our noble earl, who knowsbut I may get a glimpse of his noble countenance, and that will be asight to tell of till I die!"

  "God's blessing on his sweet face!" cried the old woman; "but I wouldgive all the yarn in my muckle chest to catch one look of his luckyeye! I warrant you, witch nor fairy could never harm me more."

  "Ah, father," cried the eldest of the girls, blushing, "if you go nearenough to him! Do you know, Madgie Grant told me, if I could but geteven the least bit of Sir William Wallace's hair, and give it to DonalCameron to wear i
n a true lover's know on his breast, no Southron willbe able to do him harm as long as he lives!"

  "And do you believe it would protect your lover, my pretty Jeannie?"inquired Wallace, with a sweet smile.

  "Surely," she replied; "for Madgie is a wise woman, and has the secondsight."

  "Well, then," returned he, "you shall be gratified. For, though I mustfor once contradict the testimony of a wise woman, and tell you thatnothing can render a man absolutely safe but the protection of Heaven,yet, if a hair from the head of Sir William Wallace would please you,and a glance from his eye gratify your mother, both shall besatisfied," and lifting up the old woman's shears, which lay on aworking-stool before him, he cut off a golden lock from the middle ofhis head and put it into the hand of Jeannie. At this action--which wasperformed with such noble grace that not one of the family now doubtedwho had been their guest--the good dame fell on her knees, and Jeannie,with a cry of joy, putting the beautiful lock into her bosom, followedthe example, and in a woman all were clinging around him. The old mangrasped his hand. "Bravest of men!" cried he, "the Lord has indeedblessed this house, since he has honored it with the presence of thedeliverer of Scotland! My prayers, and the benedictions of all goodmen, friend or foe, must ever follow your footsteps!"

  Tears of pleasure started into the eyes of Wallace. He raised thefamily one by one from the ground, and putting his purse into the handof the dame, "There, my kind hostess," said he, "let that fill thechests of your daughters on their bridal day; they must receive it as abrother's portion to his sisters, for it is with fraternal affectionthat William Wallace regards the sons and daughters of Scotland."

  The happy sobs of the old woman stopped the expressions of hergratitude, but her son, fearing his freedom of the night before mighthave offended, stood abashed at a distance. Wallace stretched out hishand to him. "My good Archibald," cried he, "do not hold back from onewho will always be your friend. I shall send from the castle this daysufficient to fill your bridal coffers also."

  Archibald now petitioned to be allowed to follow him in his army. "No,my brave youth," replied the chief; "Lord Lochawe will lead you forth,whenever there is occasion; and, meanwhile, your duty is to imitate thedomestic duties of your worthy father. Make the neighboring valleysmile with the fruits of your industry; and raise a family to blessyou, as you now bless him."

  Wallace, having wrapped himself in his plaid, now withdrew amidst thebenedictions of the whole group; and swiftly recrossing the mountainheights, was soon on the western brow of Ben Cruachan. In ten minutesafterward he entered the hall of Kilchurn Castle. A few servants onlywere astir; the rest of the family were still asleep. About an hourafter their friend's departure, the earl and Graham had missed him; butsupposing that, whithersoever he was gone, he would soon return, theymade no inquiries; and when the tempest began, on Edwin expressing hisanxiety to know where he was, one of the servants said he was gone tohis chamber. This answer satisfied every one, and they continued toenjoy the festal scene until the Countess of Loch-awe made the signalfor repose.

  Next morning, when the family met at the breakfast-board, they were nota little surprised to hear Wallace recount the adventure of the night;and while Loch-awe promised every kindness to the shepherd, and amessenger was dispatched with a purse to Archibald Edwin learned fromthe earl's servant, that his reason for supposing the regent was goneto his room arose from the sight of his bonnet in the outer hall.Wallace was glad that such an evidence had prevented his friends beingalarmed; and retiring with Lord Loch-awe, with his usual equanimity ofmind resumed the graver errand of his tour.

  The hospitable rites of the season being over, in the course of a fewdays the earl accompanied his illustrious guest to make the circuit ofArgyleshire. At Castle Urguhart they parted; and Wallace, proceedingwith his two friends, performed his legislative visits from sea to sea.Having traversed with perfect satisfaction the whole of the northernpart of the kingdom, he returned to Huntingtower on the very morningthat a messenger had reached it from Murray. That vigilant chieftaininformed the regent of King Edward's arrival from Flanders, and that hewas preparing a large army to march into Scotland.

  "We must meet him," cried Wallace, "on his own shores; and so let thehorrors attending the seat of war full on the country whose king wouldbring desolation to ours."