The Scottish Chiefs Part 39

"It only declared surprise, madam," cried Murray, "the surprise of a modest and ingenuous mind that did not expect to recognize its mountain friend in the person of the protector of Scotland."

Lady mar put up her lip, and turning to the still silent Lord Ruthven, again addressed him. "Stepmothers, my lord," said she, "have hard duties to perform; and when we think we fulfill them best, our suspicious husband comes with a magician's wand, and turns all our good to evil."

"Array your good in a less equivocal garb, my dear Joanna," answered the Earl of Mar, rather ashamed of the hasty words which indeed the suspicion of a moment had drawn from his lips; "judge my child by her usual conduct, not by an accidental appearance of inconsistency, and I shall ever be grateful for your solicitude. But in this instance, though she might betray the weakness of an enfeebled const.i.tution, it was certainly not the frailty of a love-sick heart."

"Judge me by your own rule, dear Donald," cried his wife, blandishly kissing his forehead, "and you will not again wither the mother of your boy with such a look as I just now received!"

Glad to see this reconciliation, Lord Ruthven made a sign to Murray, and they withdrew together.

Meanwhile, the honest earl surrendering his whole heart to the wiles of his wife, poured into her not inattentive ear all his wishes for Helen: all the hopes to which her late meeting with Wallace, and their present recognition, had given birth. "I had rather have that man my son,"

said he, "than see my beloved daughter placed on an imperial throne."

"I do not doubt it," thought Lady Mar; "for there are many emperors, but only one William Wallace!" However, her sentiments she confined to herself: neither a.s.senting nor dissenting, but answering so as to secure the confidence by which she hoped to traverse his designs.

According to the inconsistency of the wild pa.s.sion that possessed her, one moment she saw nothing but despair before her, and in the next it seemed impossible that Wallace should in heart be proof against her tenderness and charms. She remembered Murray's words: that he was sent to set her free, and that recollection reawakened every hope. Sir William had placed Lord Mar in a post as dangerous as honorable.

Should the Southrons return in any force into Scotland, Stirling must be one of the first places they would attack. The earl was brave, but his wounds had robbed him of much of his martial vigor. Might she not then be indeed set free? And might not Wallace, on such an event, mean to repay her for all those sighs he now sought to repress from ideas of a virtue which she could admire, but had not the courage to imitate?

These wicked meditations pa.s.sed even at the side of her husband, and, with a view to further every wish of her intoxicated imagination, she determined to spare no exertion to secure the support of her own family, which, when agreeing in one point, was the most powerful of any in the kingdom. Her father, the Earl of Strathearn, was now a misanthrope recluse in the Orkneys; she therefore did not calculate on his a.s.sistance, but she resolved on requesting Wallace to put the names of her cousins, Athol and Badenoch, into the exchange of prisoners, for by their means she expected to accomplish all she hoped. On Mar's probable speedy death she so long thought that she regarded it as a certainty, and so pressed forward to the fulfillment of her love and ambition with as much eagerness as if he were already in his grave.

She recollected that Wallace had not this time thrown her from his bosom, when in the transports of her joy she cast herself upon it; he only gently whispered, "Beware, lady, there are those present who may think my services too richly paid." With these words he had relinquished her to her husband. But in them she saw nothing inimical to her wishes; it was a caution, not a reproof, and had not his warmer address to Helen conjured up all the fiends of jealousy, she would have been perfectly satisfied with these grounds of hope-slippery though they were, like the sands of the sea.

Eager, therefore, to break away from Lord Mar's projects relating to his daughter, at the first decent opportunity she said: "We will consider more of this, Donald. I now resign you to the duties of your office, and shall pay mine to her, whose interest is our own."

Lord Mar pressed her hand to his lips, and they parted.

Prior to Wallace's visit to the citadel, which was to be at an early hour the same morning, a list of the n.o.ble prisoners was put into his hand. Edwin pointed to the name of Lord Montgomery.

"That," said he, "is the name of the person you already esteem; but how will you regard him when I tell you who he was?"

Wallace turned on him an inquiring look.

"You have often spoken to me of Sir Gilbert Hambledon-"

"And this be he!" interrupted Wallace.

Edwin recounted the manner of the earl discovering himself, and how he came to bear that t.i.tle. Wallace listened in silence and when his young friend ended, sighed heavily, "I will thank him," was all he said; and rising, he proceeded to the chamber of Montgomery. Even at that early hour it was filled with his officers come to inquire after their late commander's health. Wallace advanced to the couch, and the Southrons drew back. The expression of his countenance told the earl that he now knew him.

"n.o.blest of Englishmen!" cried Wallace, in a low voice, "I come to express a grat.i.tude to you, as lasting as the memory of the action which gave it birth. Your generous conduct to all that was dearest to me on earth was that night in the garden of Ellerslie witnessed by myself. I was in the tree above your head, and nothing but a conviction that I should embarra.s.s the honor of my wife's protector could at that moment have prevented my springing from my covert and declaring my grat.i.tude on the spot.

"Receive my thanks now, inadequate as they are to express what I feel.

But you offered me your heart on the field of Cambus-Kenneth; I will take that as a generous intimation how I may best acknowledge my debt.

Receive then my never-dying friendship, the eternal grat.i.tude of my immortal spirit."

The answer of Montgomery could not but refer to the same subject, and by presenting the tender form of his wife and her devoted love, almost visibly again before her widowed husband, nearly forced open the fountain of tears which he had buried deep in his heart; and rising suddenly, for fear his emotions might betray themselves, he warmly pressed the hand of his English friend, and left the room.

In the course of the same day the Southron n.o.bles were transported into the citadel, and the family of Mar removed from the fortress, to take up their residence in the palace of Snawdoun.

Chapter x.x.xVI.

The Ca.r.s.e of Stirling.

The fame of these victories, the seizure of Stirling, the conquest of above sixty thousand men, and the lord warden with his late deputy taken prisoners, all spread through the country on the wings of the wind.

Messengers were dispatched by Wallace, not only to the n.o.bles who had already declared for the cause by sending him their armed followers, but to the clans who yet stood irresolute. To the chiefs who had taken the side of Edward, he sent no exhortation. And when Lord Ruthven advised him to do so, "No, my lord," said he, "we must not spread a snare under our country, and as they had the power to befriend her, they would not have colleagued with her enemies. They remember her happiness under the rule of our Alexanders; they see her sufferings beneath the sway of a usurper; and if they can know these things, and require arguments to bring them to their duty, should they then come to it, it would not be to fulfill, but to betray. Ours, my dear Lord Ruthven, is a commission from Heaven. The truth of our cause is G.o.d's own signet, and is so clear, that it need only be seen to be acknowledged. All honest minds will come to us of themselves; and those who are not so, had better be avoided, than shown the way by which treachery may effect what open violence cannot accomplish."

This reasoning, drawn from the experience of nature, neither enc.u.mbered by the subtleties of policy nor the sophistry of the schools, was evident to every honest understanding, and decided the question.

Lady Mar, unknown to any one, again applied to her fatal pen; but with other views than for the ruin of the cause, or the destruction of Wallace. It was to strengthen his hands with the power of all her kinsmen; and finally, by the crown which they should place on his head, exalt her to the dignity of a queen. She wrote first to John c.u.mmin, Earl of Buchan, enforcing a thousand reasons why he should now leave a sinking cause and join the rising fortunes of his country.

"You see," said she, "that the happy star of Edward is setting. The King of France not only maintains possession of that monarch's territory at Guienne, but he holds him in check on the sh.o.r.es of Flanders. Baffled abroad, an insurrection awaits him at home; the priesthood whom he has insulted, trample name with anathemas; the n.o.bles whom he has insulted, trample on his prerogative; and the people, whose privileges he has invaded, call aloud for redress. The proud barons of England are ready to revolt; and the Lords Hereford and Norfolk (those two earls whom, after madly threatening to hang,** he sought to bribe to their allegiance by leaving them in the full powers of Constable and Marshal of England), they are now conducting themselves with such domineering consequence, that even the Prince of Wales submits to their directions, and the throne of the absent tyrant is shaken to its center.

**Edward intended to send out forces to Guienne, under the command of Humphrey Earl of Hereford, the constable, and Roger Earl of Norfolk, the Marshal of England, when these two powerful n.o.bles refused to execute his commands. A violent altercation ensued; and the king, in the height of his pa.s.sion, exclaimed to the constable, "Sir Earl, by G-, you shall either go or hang." "By G-, Sir King," replied Hereford, "I will neither go nor hang." And he immediately departed with the marshal and their respective trains.

"Sir William Wallace has rescued Scotland from his yoke. The country now calls for her ancient lords--those who made her kings, and supported them. Come, then, my cousin! espouse the cause of right; the cause that is in power; the cause that may aggrandize the house of c.u.mmin with still higher dignities than any with which it has. .h.i.therto been blazoned."

With these arguments, and with others more adapted to his Belial mind, she tried to bring him to her purpose; to awaken what ambition he possessed; and to entice his baser pa.s.sions, by offering security in a rescued country to the indulgence of senses to which he had already sacrificed the best properties of man. She dispatched her letter by a messenger, whom she bribed to secrecy; and added in her postscript, "that the answer she should hope to receive would be an offer of his services to Sir William Wallace."

While the Countess of Mar was devising her plans (for the gaining of Lord Buchan was only a preliminary measure), the dispatches of Wallace had taken effect. Their simple details, and the voice of fame, had roused a general spirit throughout the land; and in the course of a very short time after the different messengers had left Stirling, the plain around the city was covered with a mixed mult.i.tude. All Scotland seemed pressing to throw itself at the feet of its preserver. A large body of men brought from Mar by Murray according to his uncle's orders, were amongst the first encamped on the Ca.r.s.e; and that part of Wallace's own particular band which he had left at Dumbarton, to recover their wounds, now, under the command of Stephen Ireland, rejoined their lord at Stirling.

Neil Campbell, the brave Lord of Loch-awe, and Lord Bothwell, the father of Lord Andrew Murray, with a strong reinforcement, arrived from Argyleshire. The chiefs of Ross, Dundas, Gordon, Lockhart, Logan, Elphinstone, Scott, Erskine, Lindsay, Cameron, and of almost every n.o.ble family in Scotland, sent their sons at the heads of detachments from their clans, to swell the ranks of Sir William Wallace.

When this patriotic host a.s.sembled on the Ca.r.s.e of Stirling, every inmate of the city, who had not duty to confine him within the walls, turned out to view the glorious sight. Mounted within the walls, turned out to view the glorious sight. Mounted on a rising ground, they saw each little army, and the emblazoned banners of all the chivalry of Scotland floating afar over the lengthened ranks.

At this moment, the lines which guarded the outworks of Stirling opened from right to left, and discovered Wallace advancing on a white charger. When the conqueror of Edward's hosts appeared--the deliverer of Scotland--a mighty shout, from the thousands around, rent the skies, and shook the earth on which they stood.

Wallace raised his helmet from his brow, as by an instinctive motion every hand bent the sword or banner it contained.

"He comes in the strength of David!" cried the venerable bishop of Dunkeld, who appeared at the head of his church's tenantry; "Scots, behold the Lord's anointed!"

The exclamation, which burst like inspiration from the lips of the bishop, struck to every heart. "Long live our William the Lion! our Scottish King!" was echoed with transport by every follower on the ground; and while the reverberating heavens seemed to ratify the voice of the people, the lords themselves (believing that he who won had the best right to enjoy) joined in the glorious cry. Galloping up from the front of their ranks, they threw themselves from their steeds, and before Wallace could recover from the surprise into which this unexpected salutation had thrown him, Lord Bothwell and Lord Loch-awe, followed by the rest, had bent their knees, and acknowledged him to be their sovereign. The Bishop of Dunkeld at the same moment drawing from his breast a silver dove of sacred oil, poured it upon the unbonneted head of Wallace. "Thus, O King!" cried he, "do I consecrate on earth, what has already received the unction of Heaven!"

Wallace, at this action, was awe-struck, and raising his eyes to that Heaven, his soul in silence breathed its unutterable devotion. Then looking on the bishop: "Holy father," said he, "this unction may have prepared my brows for a crown, but it is not of this world, and Divine Mercy must bestow it. Rise, lords!" and as he spoke, he flung himself from his horse, and taking Lord Bothwell by the hand, as the eldest of the band, "kneel not to me," cried he; "I am to you what Gideon was to the Israelites--your fellow-soldier. I cannot a.s.sume the scepter you would bestow; for He who rules us all has yet preserved to you a lawful monarch. Bruce lives. And were he extinct, the blood royal flows in too many n.o.ble veins in Scotland for me to usurp its rights."

"The rights of the crown lie with the only man in Scotland who knows how to defend them! else reason is blind, or the nation abandons its own prerogative. What we have this moment vowed, is not to be forsworn. Baliol has abdicated our throne; the Bruce deserted it; all our n.o.bles slept till you awoke; and shall we bow to men who may follow, but will not lead? No, bravest Wallace, from the moment you drew the first sword for Scotland, you made yourself her lawful king."

Wallace turned to the veteran Lord of Loch-awe, who uttered this with a blunt determination that meant to say, the election which had pa.s.sed should not be recalled. "I made myself her champion, to fight for her freedom, not my own aggrandizement. Were I to accept the honor with which this too grateful nation would repay my service, I should not bring it that peace for which I contend. Struggling for liberty, the toils of my brave countrymen would be redoubled; for they would have to maintain the tights of an unallied king against a host of enemies. The circ.u.mstances of a man from the private stations of life being elevated to such a dignity would be felt as an insult by every royal house, and foes and friends would arm against us. On these grounds of policy alone, even were my heart not loyal to the vows of my ancestors, I should repel the mischief you would bring upon yourselves by making me your king. As it is, my conscience, as well as my judgment, compels me reject it. As your general, I may serve you gloriously; as your monarch, in spite of myself, I should incur your ultimate destruction."

"From whom, n.o.blest of Scots!" asked the Lord of Bothwell.

"From yourselves, my friends," answered Wallace, with a gentle smile.

"Could I take advantage of the generous enthusiasm of a grateful nation; could I forget the duty I owe to the blood of our Alexanders, and leap into the throne, there are many who would soon revolt against their own election. You cannot be ignorant, that there are natures who would endure no rule, did it not come by the right of inheritance; a right by dispute, lest they teach their inferiors the same refractory lesson. But to bend with voluntary subjection, to long obey a power raised by themselves, would be a sacrifice abhorrent to their pride.

After having displayed their efficiency in making a king, they would prove their independence by striving to pull him down the moment he made them feel his specter.

"Such would be the fate of this election. Jealousies and rebellions would mark my reign; till even my closest adherents, seeing the miseries of civil war, would fall from my side, and leave the country again open to the inroads of her enemies.