The Scottish Chiefs

by Jane Porter

  CHAPTER LII.

  Banks of the Forth.

  In the collected council of the following day, the Earl of March madehis treacherous request; and Wallace, trusting his vehement oaths offidelity (because he thought the versatile earl had now discovered histrue interest), granted him charge of the Lothians. The Lords Atholand Buchan were not backward in offering their services to the regent;and the rest of the discontented nobles, following the base example,with equal deceit bade him command their lives and fortunes. Whileasseverations of loyalty filled the walls of the council-hall, and thelauding rejoicings of the people still sounded from without, all spokeof security and confidence to Wallace; and never, perhaps, did he thinkhimself so absolute in the heart of Scotland as at the very moment whenthree-fourths of its nobility were plotting his destruction.

  Lord Loch-awe knew his own influence in the minds of the bravestchieftains. From the extent of his territories and his tried valor, hemight well have assumed the title of his great ancestor, and beencalled King of Woody Morven, but he was content with a patriarch's swayover so many valiant clans; and previous to the regent's appearance inthe council-hall he opened his intentions to the assembled lords. Someassented with real satisfaction; the rest readily acquiesced in whatthey had laid so sure a plan to circumvent.

  Wallace soon after entered. Loch-awe rising, stood forth before him;and, in a long and persuasive speech, once more declared the wishes ofthe nation that he would strike the decisive blow on the pretensions ofEdward, by himself accepting the crown. The Bishop of Dunkeld, with althe eloquence of learning and the most animated devotion to theinterest of Scotland, seconded the petition. Mar and Bothwell enforcedit. The disaffected lords thought proper to throw in theirconjurations also; and every voice but that of Badenoch poured forthfervent entreaties that he, their liberator, would grant thesupplication of the nation.

  Wallace rose, and every tongue was mute. "My gratitude to Scotlandincreases with my life; but my answer must still be the same--I cannotbe its king."

  At these words the venerable Loch-awe threw himself on his knees beforehim. "In my person," cried he, "see Scotland at your feet! stillbleeding with the effects of former struggles for empire, she wouldthrow off all claims but those of virtue, and receive as her anointedsovereign, her father and deliverer! She has no more arguments toutter--these are her prayers, and thus I offer them."

  "Kneel not to me, brave Loch-awe!" cried Wallace; "nor believe themight of these victories lies so thoroughly on this arm that I dareoutrage its Maker. Were I to comply with your wishes, I should disobeyhim who has hitherto made me his happy agent; and how could I guard mykingdom from his vengeance? Your rightful king yet lives; he is analien from his country, but Heaven may return him to your prayers.Meanwhile, as his representative, as your soldier and protector, Ishall be blessed in wearing out my life. My ancestors were everfaithful to the blood of Alexander, and in the same fidelity I willdie."

  The firmness with which he spoke, and the determined expression of hisnoble countenance, convinced Loch-awe that he was not to be shaken; andrising from his knee, he bowed in silence. March whispered to Buchan,"Behold the hypocrite! But we shall unmask him. He thinks to blind usto his towering ambition, by this affected moderation. He will not becalled a king; because, with our own crown certain limitations are laidon the prerogative; but he will be our regent, that he may be ourdictator, and every day demand gratitude for voluntary services, which,performed as a king, could only be considered as his duty!"

  When the council broke up, these sentiments were actively disseminatedamong the disaffected throng; and each gloomy recess in the woodsmurmured with seditious meetings. But every lip in the country atlarge breathed the name of Wallace, as they would have done a god's;while the land that he had blessed, bloomed on every hill and valleylike a garden.

  Stirling now exhibited a constant carnival; peace was in every heart,and joy its companion. As Wallace had commanded in the field, hedecided in the judgment-hall; and while all his behests were obeyedwith a promptitude which kept the machine of state constantly moving inthe most beautiful order, his bitterest enemies could not but secretlyacknowledge the perfection they were determined to destroy.

  His munificent hand stretched itself far and near, that all who hadshared the sufferings of Scotland might drink largely of herprosperity. The good Abbot of Scone was invited from his hermitage;and when he heard from the embassadors sent to him, that the braveyoung warrior whom he had entertained was the resistless Wallace, he nolonger thought of the distant and supine Bruce, but centered every wishfor his country in the authority of her deliverer. A few days broughthim to Stirling; and wishing to remain near the most constant residenceof his noble friend, he requested that, instead of being restored toScone, he might be installed in the vacant monastery of Cambus-Kenneth.Wallace gladly acquiesced; and the venerable abbot being told that hislate charge, the Lady Helen, was in the palace, went to visit her; andas he communicated his exultation and happiness, she rejoiced in thebenedictions which his grateful spirit invoked on the head of heralmost worshiped sovereign. Her heart gave him his title; which shebelieved the not-to-be-repressed affection of the people would at lastforce him to accept.

  The wives and families of the Lanark veterans were brought from LochDoine, and again planted in their native valleys; thus, naught in thekingdom appeared different from its most prosperous days, but thewidowed heart of the dispenser of all this good. And yet, so fully didhe engage himself in the creation of these benefits, that no timeseemed left to him for regrets; but they haunted him like persecutingspirits, invisible to all but himself.

  During the performance of these things, the Countess of Mar, thoughapparently lost to all other pursuits than the peaceable enjoyment ofher reflected dignities, was absorbed in the one great object of herpassion. Eager to be rid of so dangerous a spy and adversary as shedeemed Edwin to be, she was laboring day and night to effect byclandestine schemes his banishment, when an unforeseen circumstancecarried him far away. Lord Ruthven, while on an embassy to theHebrides, fell ill. As his disorder was attended with extreme danger,he sent for his wife; and Edwin, impelled by love for his father, andanxiety to soothe the terrified suspense of his mother, readily leftthe side of his friend, to accompany her to the isles. Lady Mar hadnow no scrutinizing eye to fear; her nephew Murray was still on duty inClydesdale; the earl, her husband, trusted her too implicitly even toturn on her a suspicious look; and Helen, she contrived, should be aslittle in her presence as possible.

  Busy, then, as this lady was, the enemies of the regent were not lessactive in the prosecution of their plans. The Earl of March hadarrived at Dunbar; and having dispatched his treasonable proposals toEdward, had received letters from that monarch by sea, accepting hisservices, and promising every reward that could satisfy his ambition,and the cupidity of those whom he could draw over to his cause. Thewary king then told the earl, that if he would send his wife and familyto London, as hostages for his faith, he was ready to bring a mightyarmy to Dunbar; and, by that gate, once more enter Scotland. Thesenegotiations backward and forward from London to Dunbar, and fromDunbar to the treacherous lords at Stirling, occupied much time; andthe more, as great precaution was necessary to escape the vigilant eyesof Wallace, which seemed to be present in every part of the kingdom atonce. So careful was he, in overlooking, by his well-chosen officers,civil and military, every transaction, that the slightest derelictionfrom the straight order of things was immediately seen and examinedinto. Many of these trusty magistrates having been placed in theLothians, before March took the government, he could not now removethem without exciting suspicion; and therefore, as they remained, greatcircumspection was used to elude their watchfulness.

  From the time that Edward had again entered into terms with theScottish chiefs, Lord March sent regular tidings to Lord Soulis of theprogress of their negotiations. He knew that nobleman would gladlywelcome the recall of the King of England; for ever since therev
olution in favor of Scotland, he had remained obstinately shut upwithin his castle of Hermitage. Chagrin at having lost Helen was notthe least of his mortifications; and the wounds he had received fromthe invisible hand which had released her, having been given with allthe might of the valiant arm which directed the blow, were not even nowhealed; his passions kept them still inflamed; and their smart made hisvengeance burn the fiercer against Wallace, who he now learned was themysterious agent of her rescue.

  While treason secretly prepared to spring its mine beneath the feet ofthe regent, he, unsuspicious that any could be discontented where allwere free and prosperous, thought of no enemy to the tranquilfulfillment of his duties but the minor persecutions of Lady Mar. Noday escaped without bringing him letters, either to invite him toSnawdoun or to lead her to the citadel, where he resided. In every oneof these epistles she declared that it was no longer the wildness ofpassion which impelled her to seek his society, but the moderatedregard of a friend. And though perfectly aware of all that was behindthese asseverations (for she had deceived him once into a belief ofthis please, and had made him feel its falseness), he found himselfforced at times, out of the civility due to her sex, to comply with herinvitations. Indeed, her conduct never gave him reason to hold her inany higher respect, for whenever they happened to be left alone, shemade pretensions. The frequency of these scenes at last made him nevergo to Snawdoun unaccompanied (for she rarely allowed him to have even aglimpse of Helen), and by this precaution he avoided much of hersolicitations. But, strange to say, even at the time that thisconduct, by driving her to despair, might have excited her to somedesperate act, her wayward heart threw the blame of his coldness uponher trammels with Lord Mar, and flattering herself that were he dead,all would happen as she wished, she panted for that hour with animpatience which often tempted her to precipitate the event.

  Things were in this situation when Wallace, one night, received a hastysummons from his pillow by a page of Lord Mar's, requesting him toimmediately repair to his chamber. Concluding that something alarmingmust have happened, he threw on his brigandine and plaid, and enteredthe apartments of the governor. Mar met him with a countenance, theherald of a dreadful matter.

  "What has happened?" inquired Wallace.

  "Treason," answered Mar; "but from what point I cannot guess. Mydaughter has braved a dark and lonely walk from Snawdoun, to bring theproofs."

  While speaking he lead the chief into the room where Helen sat, likesome fairy specter of the night; her long hair, disordered by the windsof a nocturnal storm, mingling with the gray folds of the mantle whichenveloped her. Wallace hastened forward--she now no longer flittedaway, scared from his approach by the frowning glances of herstep-mother. He had once attempted to express his grateful regrets forwhat she had suffered in her lovely person for his sake, but thecountess had then interrupted him, and Helen disappeared. Now hebeheld her in a presence, where he could declare all his gratitudewithout subjecting its gentle object to one harsh word in consequence,and almost forgetting his errand to the governor, and the tidings hehad just heard, he remembered only the manner in which she had shieldedhis life with her arms, and he bent his knee respectfully before her asshe rose to his approach. Blushing and silent, she extended her handto him to rise. He pressed it warmly. "Sweet excellence!" said he, "Iam happy in this opportunity, however gained, to again pour out myacknowledgments to you; and though I have been denied that pleasureuntil now, yet the memory of your generous interest in the friend ofyour father, is one of the most cherished sentiments of my heart!"

  "It is my happiness, as well as my duty, Sit William Wallace," repliedshe, "to regard you and my country as one; and that, I hope, willexcuse the, perhaps, rash action of this night." As she spoke, he roseand looked at Lord Mar for explanation.

  The earl held a roll of vellum toward him. "This writing," said he,"was found this evening by my daughter. She was enjoying with my wifeand other ladies a moonlight walk on the shores of the Forth behind thepalace, when, having strayed at some distance from her friends, she sawthis packet lying in the path before her, as if it had just beendropped. It bore no direction; she therefore opened it, and part ofthe contents soon told her she must conceal the whole, till she couldreveal them to me. Not even to my wife did she intrust the dangeroussecret, nor would she run any risk by sending it by a messenger. Assoon as the family were gone to rest, she wrapped herself in her plaidand finding a passage through one of the low embrasures of Snawdoun,with a fleet step made her way to the citadel and to me. She gave methe packet. Read it, my friend, and judge if we do not owe ourselvesto Heaven for so critical a discovery!"

  Wallace took the scroll, and read as follows:

  "Our trusty fellows will bring you this, and deliver copies of the sameto the rest. We shall be with you in four-and-twenty hours after itarrives. The army of our liege lord is now in the Lothians, passingthrough them under the appellation of succors for the regent from theHebrides! Keep all safe, and neither himself nor any of his adherentsshall have a head on their shoulders by this day week."

  Neither superscription, name, nor date, was to this letter; but Wallaceimmediately knew the handwriting to be that of Lord March. "Then wemust have traitors, even within these walls," exclaimed Mar; "none butthe most powerful chiefs would the proud Cospatrick admit into hisconspiracies. And what are we to do? for by to-morrow evening the armythis traitor has let into the heart of this country will be at ourgates!"

  "No," cried Wallace. "Thanks to God and this guardian angel!"fervently clasping Helen's hand as he spoke, "we must not beintimidated by treachery! Let us be faithful to ourselves, my veteranfriend, and all will go well. It matters not who the other traitorsare; they must soon discover themselves, and shall find us prepared tocounteract their machinations. Sound your bugles, my lord, to summonthe heads of our council."

  At this command, Helen arose, but replaced herself in her chair onWallace exclaiming, "Stay, Lady Helen, let the sight of such virgindelicacy, braving the terrors of the night to warn betrayed Scotland,nerve every heart with redoubled courage to breast this insidious foe!"Helen did indeed feel her soul awake to all its ancient patrioticenthusiasm; and thus, with a countenance pale, but resplendent with thelight of her thoughts, she sat the angel of her heroic inspiration.Wallace often turned to look on her, while her eyes, unconscious of theadoring admiration which spoke in their beams, followed his godlikefigure as it moved through the room with a step that declared theundisturbed determination of his soul.

  The Lords Bothwell, Loch-awe, and Badenoch were the first that obeyedthe call. They started at sight of Helen, but Wallace in a few wordsrelated the cause of her appearance, and the portentous letter was laidbefore them. All were acquainted with the handwriting of Lord March,and all agreed in attributing to its real motive his late solicitude toobtain the command of the Lothians. "What!" cried Bothwell, "but toopen his castle gates to the enemy!"

  "And to repel him before he reaches ours, my brave chiefs," repliedWallace, "I have summoned you! Edward will not make this attemptwithout tremendous powers. He knows what he risks; his men, his life,and his honor. We must therefore expect a resolution in him adequateto such an enterprise. Lose not then a moment; even to-night, thisinstant, and go out and bring in your followers! I will call up minefrom the banks of the Clyde, and be ready to meet him ere he crossesthe Carrou."

  While he gave these orders, other nobles thronged in, and Helen, beingseverally thanked by them all, became so agitated, that stretching outher hand to Wallace, who was nearest to her, she softly whispered,"Take me hence." He read in her blushing face, the oppression hermodesty sustained in such a scene, and with her faltering steps sheleaned upon his arm as he conducted her to an interior chamber.Overcome by her former fears and the emotions of the last hour, shesunk into a chair and burst into tears. Wallace stood near her, and ashe looked on her, he thought, "If aught on earth ever resembled thebeloved of my soul, it is Helen Mar!" And all the tenderness w
hichmemory gave to his almost adored wife, and all the grateful complacencywith which he regarded Helen, beamed at once from his eyes. She raisedher head--she felt that look--it thrilled to her soul. For a momentevery former thought seemed lost in the one perception, that he thengazed on her as he had never looked on any woman since his Marion. Wasshe then beloved?

  The impression was evanescent: "No, no!" said she to herself; andwaving her hand gently to him with her head bent down; "Leave me, SirWilliam Wallace. Forgive me--but I am exhausted; my frame is weakerthan my mind." She spoke this at intervals, and Wallace respectfullytouching the hand she extended, pressed it to his breast.

  "I obey you, dear Lady Helen, and when next we meet, it will, I hope,be to dispel every fear in that gentle bosom." She bowed her headwithout looking up, and Wallace left the room.