by Jane Porter
Chapter L.
Stirling.
Many chieftains from the north had come to Stirling, to be nearintelligence from the borders. They were aware that this meetingbetween Wallace and Edward must be the crisis of their fate. The fewwho remained in the citadel, of those who had borne the brunt of theopening of this glorious revolution for their country, were full ofsanguine expectations. They had seen the prowess of their leader, theyhad shared the glory of his destiny, and they feared not that Edwardwould deprive him of one ray. But they who, at their utmost wilds ofHighlands, had only heard his fame; though they had afterward seen himamongst themselves, transforming the mountain-savage into a civilizedman and disciplined soldier; though they had felt the effects of hismilitary successes; yet they doubted how his fortunes might stand theshock of Edward's happy star. The lords whom he had released from theSouthron prisons were all of the same apprehensive opinion; for theyknew what numbers Edward could bring against the Scottish power, andhow hitherto unrivaled was his skill in the field. "Now," thought LordBadenoch, "will this brave Scot find the difference between fightingwith the officers of a king and a king himself, contending for what hedetermines shall be a part of his dominions!" Full of this idea, andresolving never to fall into the hands of Edward again (for the conductof Wallace had made the earl ashamed of his long submission to theusurpation of rights to which he had a claim), he kept a vessel inreadiness at the mouth of the Forth, to take him, as soon as the newsof the regent's defeat should arrive, far from the sad consequences, toa quiet asylum in France.
The meditations of Athol, Buchan, and March, were of a differenttendency. It was their design, on the earliest intimation of suchintelligence, to set forth, and be the first to throw themselves at thefeet of Edward, and acknowledge him their sovereign. Thus, withvarious projects in their heads (which none but the three last breathedto each other), were several hundred expecting chiefs assembled roundthe Earl of Mar; when Edwin Ruthven, glowing with all the effulgence ofhis general's glory, and his own, rushed into the hall; and throwingthe royal standard of England on the ground, exclaimed, "There lies thesupremacy of King Edward!"
Every man started to his feet. "You do not mean," cried Athol, "thatKing Edward has been beaten?"
"He has been beaten, and driven off the field!" returned Edwin. "Thesedispatches," added he, laying them on the table before his uncle, "willrelate every particular. A hard battle our regent fought, for ourenemies were numberless; but a thousand good angels were his allies,and Edward himself fled. I saw the king, after he had thrice ralliedhis troops and brought them to the charge, at last turn and fly. Itwas at that moment I wounded his standard-bearer, and seized thisdragon."
"Thou art worthy of thy general, brave Ruthven!" cried Badenoch toEdwin. "James," added he, addressing his eldest son, who had justarrived from France, "what is left to us to show ourselves also ofScottish blood? Heaven has given him all!"
Lord Mar, who had stood in speechless gratitude, opened the dispatches;and finding a circumstantial narrative of the battle, with accounts ofthe previous embassies, he read them aloud. Their contents excited avariety of emotions. When the nobles heard that Edward had offeredWallace the crown; when they found that by vanquishing that powerfulmonarch, he had subdued even the soul of the man who had hitherto heldthem all in awe; though in the same breath, they read that their regenthad refused royalty; and was now, as a servant of the people, preparingto strengthen their borders; yet the most extravagant suspicions awokein almost every breast. The eagle flight of his glory, seemed to haveraised him so far above their heads, so beyond their power to restrainor to elevate him, that an envy, dark as Erebus--a jealousy which atonce annihilated every grateful sentiment, every personalregard--passed like electricity from heart to heart. The eye, turningfrom one to the other, explained what no lip dared utter. A deadsilence reigned, while the demon of hatred was taking possession ofalmost every beast; and none but the Lords Mar, Badenoch, and Loch-awe,escaped the black contagion.
When the meeting broke up, Lord Mar placed himself at the head of theofficers of the garrison, and with a herald holding the banner ofEdward beneath the colors of Scotland, rode forth to proclaim to thecountry the decisive victory of its regent. Badenoch and Loch-awe leftthe hall, to hasten with the tidings to Snawdoun. The rest of thechiefs dispersed. But as if actuated by one spirit, they were seenwandering about the outskirts of the town, where they soon drewtogether in groups, and whispered among themselves these and similarstatements: "He refused the crown offered to him in the field by thepeople; he rejected it from Edward, because he would reignuncontrolled. He will now seize it as a conqueror, and we shall havean upstart's foot upon our necks. If we are to be slaves, let us havea tyrant of our own choosing."
As the trumpets before Lord Mar blew the loud acclaim of triumph, Atholsaid to Buchan, "Cousin, that is but the forerunner of what we shallhear to announce the usurpation of this Wallace. And shall we sittamely by, and have our birthright wrested from us by a man ofyesterday? No; if the race of Alexander be not to occupy the throne,let us not hesitate between the monarch of a mighty nation and alow-born tyrant, between him who will at least gild our chains withchivalric honors, and an upstart, whose domination must be as stern asdebasing!"
Murmurings such as these, passing from chief to chief, descended to theminor chieftains, who held lands in fee of those more sovereign lords.Petty interests extinguished gratitude for general benefits; and bysecret meetings, at the heads of which were Athol, Buchan, and March, aconspiracy was formed to overset the power of Wallace. They were toinvite Edward once more to take possession of the kingdom; andmeanwhile, to accomplish this with certainty, each chief was to assumea pre-eminent zeal for the regent. March was to persuade Wallace tosend him to Dunbar as governor of the Lothiaus, to hold the refractorySoulis in check; and to divide the public cares of Lord Dundaff; who,indeed, found Berwick a sufficient charge for his age and comparativeinactivity. "Then," cried the false Cospatrick,** "when I am fixed atDunbar, Edward may come round from Newcastle to that port; and, by yourmanagement, he must march unmolested to Stirling, and seize the usurperon his throne."
**The name by which Patrick Dunbar, Earl of March, was familiarlycalled.
Such suggestions met with full approval from these dark incendiaries;and as their meetings were usually held at night, they walked forth inthe day with cheerful countenances, and joined the general rejoicing.
They feared to hint even a word of their intentions to Lord Badenoch;for, on Buchan having expressed some discontent to him, at the homagethat was paid to a man so much their inferior, his answer was, "Had weacted worthy of our birth, Sir William Wallace never could have had theopportunity to rise upon our disgrace. But as it is, we must submit,or bow to treachery instead of virtue." This reply determined them tokeep their proceedings secret from him, and also from Lady Mar; forboth Lord Buchan and Lord Athol had, at different times, listened tothe fond dreams of her love and ambition. They had flattered her withentering into her designs. Athol gloomily affected acquiescence, thathe might render himself master of all that was in her mind, and,perhaps, in that of her lover; for he did not doubt that Wallace was asguilty as her wishes would have made him. And Buchan, ever ready toyield to the persuasions of woman, was not likely to refuse, when hisfair cousin promised to reward him with all the pleasures of the gayestcourt in Europe. For, indeed, both lords had conceived, from theevident failing state of her veteran husband, in consequence of theunhealing condition of one of his wounds, that it might not be longbefore this visionary game would be thrown into her hands.
Thus were they situated, when the news of Wallace's decisive victory,distancing all their means to raise him who was now at the pinnacle ofpower, determined the dubious to become at once his mortal enemies.Lord Badenoch had listened with a different temper to the firstbreathings of Lady Mar on her favorite subject. He told her, if thenation chose to make their benefactor king, he should not oppose it;because he tho
ught that none of the blood royal deserved to wear thecrown which they had all consented to hold in fee of Edward; yet hewould never promote by intrigue an election which must rob his ownposterity of their inheritance. But when she gave hints of herbecoming one day the wife of Wallace, he turned on her with a frown."Cousin," said he, "beware how you allow so guilty an idea to takepossession of your heart! It is the parent of dishonor and death. Anddid I think that Sir William Wallace were capable of sharing yourwishes, I would be the first to abandon his standard. But I believehim too virtuous to look on a married woman with the eyes of passion;and that he holds the houses of Mar and Cummin in too high a respect tobreathe an illicit sigh in the ear of my kinswoman."
Despairing of making the impression she desired on the mind of thissevere relative, Lady Mar spoke to him no more on the subject. AndLord Badenoch, ignorant that she had imparted her criminal project tohis brother and cousin, believed that his reproof had performed hercure. Thus flattering himself, he made no hesitations to be the firstwho should go to Snawdoun, to communicate to her the brilliantdispatches of the regent, and to declare the freedom of Scotland to benow almost secured. He and Lord Loch-awe set forth; but they had beensome time preceded by Edwin.
The moment the countess heard the name of her nephew announced, shemade a sign for her ladies to withdraw, and starting forward at hisentrance, "Speak!" cried she; "tell me, Edwin, is the regent still aconqueror?"
"Where are my mother and Helen," replied he, "to share my tidings?"
"Then they are good!" exclaimed lady mar, with one of her bewitchingsmiles. "Ah! you sly one, like your chief, you know your power!"
"And like him I exercise it," replied he, gayly; "therefore, to keepyour ladyship no longer in suspense, here is a letter from the regenthimself." He presented it as he spoke, and she, catching it from him,turned round, and pressing it rapturously to her lips (it being thefirst she had ever received from him), eagerly ran over its briefcontents. While reperusing it--for she could not tear her eyes fromthe beloved characters--Lady Ruthven and Helen entered the room. Theformer hastened forward, the latter trembled as she moved, for she didnot yet know the information which her cousin brought. But the firstglance of his face told her all was safe, and as he broke from hismother's embrace, to clasp Helen in his arms, she fell upon his neck,and, with a shower of tears, whispered, "Wallace lives? Is well?"
"As you would wish him," rewhispered he, "and with Edward at his feet."
"Thank God, thank God!"
While she spoke, Lady Ruthven exclaimed: "But how is our regent?Speak, Edwin! How is the delight of all hearts?"
"Still the Lord of Scotland," answered he; "the invincible dictator ofher enemies! The puissant Edward has acknowledged the power of SirWilliam Wallace, and after being beaten on the plain of Stanmore, isnow making the best of his way toward his own capital."
Lady Mar again and again pressed the cold letter of Wallace to herburning bosom. "The regent does not mention these matters in hisletter to me," said she, casting an exulting glance over the glowingface of Helen. But Helen did not notice it; she was listening toEdwin, who, with joyous animation, related every particular that hadbefallen Wallace from the time of his rejoining him to that verymoment. The countess heard all with complacency, till he mentioned theissue of the conference with Edward's first embassadors. "Fool!"exclaimed she to herself, "to throw away the golden opportunity, thatmay never return!" Not observing her disturbance, Edwin went on withhis narrative; every word of which spread the eloquent countenance ofHelen with admiration and joy.
Since her heroic heart had wrung from it all selfish wishes with regardto Wallace, she allowed herself to openly rejoice in his success, andto look up unabashed when the resplendent glories of his character werebrought before her. None but Edwin made her feel her exclusion fromher soul's only home, by dwelling on his gentle virtues; by portrayingthe exquisite tenderness of his nature, which seemed to enfold theobjects of his love in his heart of hearts. When Helen thought onthese discourses she would sigh, but it was a sigh of resignation, andshe loved to meditate on the words which Edwin had carelesslyspoken--that "she made herself a nun for Wallace!" "And so I will,"said she to herself; "and that resolution stills every wild emotion.All is innocence in heaven, Wallace! You will there read my soul, andlove me as a sister."
In such a frame of mind did she listen to the relation of Edwin; didher animated eye welcome the entrance of Badenoch and Loch-awe, andtheir enthusiastic encomiums on the lord of her heart. Then soundedthe trumpet; and the herald's voice in the streets proclaimed thevictory of the regent. Lady mar rushed to the window, as if there shewould see himself. Lady Ruthven followed, and as the acclamations ofthe people echoed through the air, Helen pressed the precious cross ofWallace to her bosom and hastily left the room to enjoy the rapture ofher thoughts in the blessed retirement of her own oratory.
In the course of a few days, after the promulgation of all this happyintelligence, it was announced that the regent was on his return toStirling. Lady Mar was not so inebriated with her vain hopes as toforget that Helen might traverse the dearest of them, should she againpresent herself to its object. She therefore hastened to her when thetime of his expected arrival drew near; and putting on all the matron,affected to give her the counsel of a mother.
As all the noble families around Stirling would assemble to hail thevictor's return, the countess said, she came to advise her, inconsideration of what had passed in the chapel before the regent'sdeparture, not to submit herself to the observation of so many eyes.Not suspecting the occult devices which worked in her stepmother'sheart, Helen meekly acquiesced, with the reply, "I shall obey." Butshe inwardly thought, "I, who know the heroism of his soul, need notpageants nor acclamations of the multitude to tell me what he is. Heis already too bring for my senses to support, and with his imagepressing on my heart, it is mercy to let me shrink from his gloriouspresence."
The "obey" was sufficient for Lady Mar; she had gained her point. Forthough she did not seriously think (what she had affected to believe)that anything more had passed between Wallace and Helen than what theyhad openly declared, yet she could not but discern the harmony of theirminds, and she feared that frequent intercourse might draw suchsympathy to something dearer. She had understanding to perceive hisvirtues, but they found no answering qualities in her breast. Thematchless beauty of his person, the penetrating tenderness of hismanner, the splendor of his fame, the magnitude of his power, allunited to set her impassioned and ambitious soul in a blaze. Eachopposing duty seemed only a vapor through which she could easily passto the goal of her desire. Hence art of every kind appeared to her tobe no more than a means of acquiring the object most valuable to her inlife. Education had not given her any principle by which she mighthave checked the headlong impulse of her now aroused passions. Broughtup as a worshiped object, in the little court of her parents, atKirkwall, in the Orkneys, her father the Earl of Strathern, inScotland, and her mother being a princess of Norway, whose dowrybrought him the sovereignty of those isles, their daughter never knewany law but her own will, from her doting mother. And on the fearfulloss of that mother, in a marine excursion of pleasure, by an accidentoversetting the boat she was in, the bereaved daughter fell into such adespair, on her first pang of grief of any kind, that her similarlydistracted father (whose little dominions happened then to be menacedby a descent of the Danes) sought a safe and cheering home for his onlychild, at the interesting age of seventeen, by sending her over sea, tothe protecting care of his long-affianced friend, the Earl of Mar, andto his lovely countess, then an only three years' wife with one infantdaughter.
Though fond of admiration, the young Joanna of Orkney had held herselfat too high a price, to bestow a thought on the crowd of rough sons ofthe surge (chiefs of the surrounding isles, who owned her father aslord), who daily adulated her charms with all the costliest trophiesfrom their ocean-spoils. She trod past them, and by all the femalebeauties in her isle, with
the step of an undisputed right to receive,and to despise. But when she crossed to the mainland, and foundherself by the side of a woman almost as young as herself, and equallybeautiful, though of a different mold, soft and retreating, while herscommanded and compelled; and that the husband of that woman, whosetender adoration hovered over her with a perpetual eye; that he, thoughof comparative veteran years, was handsomer than any man she had everseen, and fraught with every noble grace to delight the female heart;she felt what she had never done before, that she had met a rival andan object worthy to subdue.
What Joanna began in mere excited vanity, jealous pride, and ambitionof conquest, ended in a fatal attachment to the husband of herinnocent and too confiding protectress. And he, alas! betrayed, firstby her insidious wiles, and then by her overpowering and apparentlyrestrainless demonstrations of devoted love, was so far won "from thepropriety" of his noble heart, as to regard with a grateful admiration,as well as a manly pity, the beautiful victim of a passion he had sounwittingly raised. In the midst of these scenes, too often acted forhis peace (though not for his honor and fidelity to his marriage vow),his beloved Isabella, the wife of his bosom, and till then the joy ofhis life, died in the pangs of a premature confinement, breathing herlast sigh in the birth of a daughter. Scarcely was the countessconsigned to her bed of earth, and even in the hour after the lastduties were paid to her, whose closed tomb seemed to have left unto him"his house desolate!" when the heart-desperate Joanna rushed into theweeping husband's presence, fearful of being now restraininglyreclaimed by her father, who had, only a short while before, intimatedhis intention to relieve his friends of a guardianship they had sopartially fulfilled, and to send a vessel for his daughter, to bringher back to Kirkwall, there to be united in marriage to the bravenative chieftain, whose singular prowess had preserved the island froma Danish yoke. Dreading this event, even while her siren tears mingledwith those of the widowed Mar, she wrought on him, by lavishprotestations of a devoted love for his two infant orphans (Helen, thena child of hardly two years, and the poor babe whose existence had justcost its mother her life)--also of a never-dying dedication of herselfto that mother's memory, and to the tenderest consolations of his ownmourning spirit, she wrought upon him to rescue her from hernow-threatened abhorrent fate, even to give her his vow--to wed herhimself! In the weakness of an almost prostrated mind, under the loadof conflicting anguish which then lay upon him--for now feeling his ownculpable infirmity, in having suffered this dangerously flatteringpreference of him to have ever showed itself to him, without his havingdown his positive duty, by sending her home at once to her properprotector--in a sudden self-immolating agony of self-blame, he assentedto her heart-wringing supplication, that as soon as propriety wouldpermit, she should become his wife.
The Earl of Strathern arrived himself within the week, to condole withhis friend, and to take back his daughter. But the scene he met,changed his ultimate purpose. Joanna declared, that were she to becarried away to marry any man save that friend, whose protection,during the last six months, had been to her as that of all relatives inone, she should expire on the threshold of Castle Braemer, for shenever would cross it alive! And as the melancholy widower, butgrateful lover, verified his vow to her, by repeating it to herfather--within four months from that day, the Earl of Mar rejoined theLady Joanna at Kirkwall, and brought her away as his bride. But toavoid exciting any invidious remarks, by immediately appearing inScotland after such prompt nuptials, the new countess, wary in hertriumph, easily persuaded her husband to take her for awhile to France;where, assuming a cold and majestic demeanor, which she thoughtbecoming her royal descent, she resided several years. Thus changed,she returned to Scotland. She found the suspicion of any formerindiscretion faded from all minds, and passing her time in the statelyhospitalities of her lord's castles, conducted herself with a matronlydignity, that made him the envy of all the married chieftains in hisneighborhood. Soon after her arrival at Kildrumy on the River Dee, herthen most favorite residence, she took the Lady Helen, the supplantedIsabella's first-born daughter, from her grandfather at Thirlestance,where both children had been left on the departure of their father andhis bride for France. Though hardly past the period of absolutechildhood, the Lord Soulis at this time offered the young heiress ofMar his hand. The countess had then no interest in wishing the union;having not yet any children of her own, to make her jealous for theirfather's love, she permitted her daughter-in-law to decide as shepleased. A second time he presented himself, and Lady Mar, stillindifferent, allowed Helen a second time to refuse him. Years flewover the heads of the ill-joined pair; but while they whitened theraven locks of the earl, and withered his manly brow, the beauty of hiscountess blew into fuller luxuriance.
Yet it was her mirror aloe that told her she was fairer than all theladies around, for none durst invade the serene decorum of her manners,with so light a whisper. Such was her state, when she first heard ofthe rise of Sir William Wallace, and when she thought that her husbandmight not only lose his life, but risk the forfeiture of his familyhonors, by joining him, for her own sake and for her children's (havingrecently become the mother of twins), she had then determined, if itwere necessary, to make the outlawed chief a sacrifice. To this end,she became willing to bribe Soulis' participation, by the hand ofHelen. She knew that her daughter-in-law abhorred his character, butlove, indifference, or hatred, she now thought of little consequence ina marriage which brought sufficient antidotes in rank and wealth. Shehad never felt what real love was, and her personal vanity being nolonger agitated by the raptures of a frantic rivalry, she now livedtranquilly with Lord Mar. What then was her astonishment, what thewild distraction of her heart, when she first beheld Sir WilliamWallace, and found in her breast for him, all which, in the moment ofthe most unreflecting intoxication, she had ever felt for her lord,with the addition of feelings and sentiments, the existence of whichshe had never believed, but now knew in all their force! Love for thefirst time penetrated through every nerve of her body, and possessedher whole mind. Taught a theory of virtue by her husband, she wasstartled at wishes which militated against his honor, but no principlesbeing grounded in her mind, they soon disappeared before the furiouscharge of his passions, and after a short struggle she surrenderedherself to the lawless power of a guilty and ambitious love. Wishes,hopes, and designs, which two years before, she would have shudderedat, as not only sinful but derogatory to female delicacy, she nowembraced with ardor, and naught seemed dreadful to her butdisappointment. The prolonged life of Lord Mar cost her many tears,for the master-passions of her nature, which she had laid asleep on hermarriage with the earl, broke out with redoubled violence at the sightof Wallace. His was the most perfect of manly forms--and she loved; hewas great--and her ambition blazed into an unextinguishable flame.These two strong passions, meeting in a breast weakened by thebesetting sin of her youth, their rule was absolute, and neithervirtue, honor, nor humanity could stand before them. Her husband wasabhorred, her infant son forgotten, and nothing but Wallace and a crowncould find a place in her thoughts.