The Scottish Chiefs Part 8

"But not as you are, my lord!" cried the elder lady; "your wounds are yet unhealed; your fever is still raging! Would it not be madness to expose your safety at such a crisis?"

"I shall not take arms myself," answered he, "till I can bear them to effect; meanwhile all of my clan, and of my friends, that I can raise to guard the life of my deliverer and to promote the cause, must be summoned. This lock shall be my pennon; and what Scotsman will look on that, and shrink from his colors! Here, Helen, my child," cried he, addressing the young lady, "before to-morrow's dawn, have this hair wrought into my banner. It will be a patriot's standard; and let his own irresistible words be the motto--G.o.d armeth me."

Helen advanced with awestruck trepidation. Having been told by the earl of the generous valor of Wallace, and of the cruel death of his lady, she had conceived a grat.i.tude and a pity deeper than language could express, for the man who had lost so much by succoring one so dear to hear. She took the lock, waving in yellow light upon her hands, and, trembling with emotion, was leaving the room, when she heard her cousin throw himself on his knees.

"I beseech you, my honored uncle," cried he, "if you have love for me, or value for my future fame, allow me to be the bearer of your banner to Sir William Wallace."

Helen stopped at the threshold to hear the reply.

"You could not, my dear nephew," returned the earl, "have asked me any favor I could grant with so much joy. To-morrow I will collect the peasantry of Bothwell, and with those, and my own followers, you shall join Wallace the same night."

Ignorant of the horrors of war, and only alive to the glory of the present cause, Helen sympathized in the ardor of her cousin, and with a thrill of sad delight hurried to her apartment, to commence her task.

Far different were the sentiments of the countess, her stepmother. As soon as Lord Mar had let this declaration escape his lips, alarmed at the effect so much agitation might have on his enfeebled const.i.tution, and fearful of the perilous cause he ventured thus openly to espouse, she desired his nephew to take the now comforted Halbert (who was pouring forth his grat.i.tude to the earl, for the prompt.i.tude of his orders), and see that he was attended with hospitality.

When the room was left to the earl and herself, she ventured to remonstrate with him upon the facility with which he had become a party in so treasonable a matter. "Consider, my lord," continued she, "that Scotland is now entirely in the power of the English monarch. His garrisons occupy our towns, his creatures hold every place of trust in the kingdom!"

"And is such a list of oppressions, my dear lady, to be an argument for longer bearing them? Had I, and other Scottish n.o.bles, dared to resist this overwhelming power after the battle of our liberties, kept our own unsheathed within the bulwarks of our mountains, Scotland might now be free; I should not have been insulted by our English tyrants in the streets of Lanark; and, to save my life, William Wallace would not now be mourning his murdered wife, and without a home to shelter him!"

Lady Mar paused at this observation, but resumed, "That may be true.

But the die is cast; Scotland is lost forever; and by your attempting to a.s.sist your friend in this rash essay to recover it, you will only lose yourself also, without preserving him. The project is wild and needless. What would you have? Now that the contention between the two kings is past; now that Baliol has surrendered his crown to Edward, is not Scotland at peace?"

"A b.l.o.o.d.y peace, Joanna," answered the earl; "witness these wounds. A usurper's peace is more destructive than his open hostilities; plunder and a.s.sa.s.sination are its concomitants. I have now seen and felt enough of Edward's jurisdiction. It is time I should awake, and, like Wallace, determine to die for Scotland, or avenge her."

Lady Mar wept. "Cruel Donald! is this the reward of all my love and duty? You tear yourself from me, you consign your estates to sequestration, you rob your children of their name; nay, by your infectious example, you stimulate our brother Bothwell's son to head the band that is to join this madman, Wallace!"

"Hold, Joanna!" cried the earl; "what is it I hear? You call the hero who, in saving your husband's life, reduced himself to these cruel extremities, a madman! Was he made because he prevented the Countess of Mar from being a widow? Was he made because he prevented her children from being fatherless?"

The countess, overcome by this cutting reproach, threw herself upon her husband's neck. "Alas! my lord," cried she, "all is madness to me that would plunge you into danger. Think of your own safety; of my innocent twins now in their cradle, should you fall. Think of our brother's feeling when you send his only son to join one he, perhaps, would call a rebel!"

"If Earl Bothwell considered himself a va.s.sal of Edward's he would not now be with Lord Loch-awe. From the moment that gallant Highlander retired to Argyleshire, the King of England regarded his adherents with suspicion. Bothwell's present visit to Loch-awe, you see, is sufficient to sanction the plunder of this castle by the peaceful government you approve. You saw the opening of those proceedings! And had they come to their dreadful issue, where, my dear Joanna, would now be your home, your husband, your children? It was the arm of the brave chief of Ellerslie which saved them from destruction."

Lady Mar shuddered. "I admit the truth of what you say. But oh! is it not hard to put my all to the hazard; to see the b.l.o.o.d.y field on one side of my beloved Donald, and the mortal scaffold on the other?"

"Hush!" cried the earl, "it is justice that beckons me, and victory will receive me to her arms. Let, oh Power above!" exclaimed he, in the fervor of enthusiasm, "let the victorious field for Scotland be Donald Mar's grave, rather than doom him to live a witness of her miseries!"

"I cannot stay to hear you!" answered the countess; "I must invoke the Virgin to give me courage to be a patriot's wife; at present, your words are daggers to me."

In uttering this she hastily withdrew, and left the earl to muse on the past--to concert plans for the portentous future.

Chapter VII.

Bothwell Castle.

Meanwhile the Lady Helen had retired to her own apartments. Lord Mar's banner being brought to her from the armory, she sat down to weave into its silken texture the amber locks of the Scottish chief. Admiring their softness and beauty, while her needle flew, she pictured to herself the fine countenance they had once adorned.

The duller extremities of the hair, which a sadder liquid than that which now dropped from her eyes and rendered stiff and difficult to entwine with the warp of the silk, seemed to adhere to her fingers.

Helen almost shrunk from the touch. "Unhappy lady!" she sighed to herself; "what a pang must have rent her heart, when the stroke of so cruel a death tore her from such a husband! and how must he have loved her, when for her sake he thus forswears all future joys but those which camps and victories may yield! Ah! what would I give to be my cousin Murray, to bear this pennon at his side! What would I give to reconcile so admirable a being to happiness again--to weep his griefs, or smile him into comfort! To be that man's friend, would be a higher honor than to be Edward's queen."

Her heart was thus discoursing with itself when a page opened the door for her cousin, who begged admittance. She had just fastened the flowing charge into its azure field, and while embroidering the motto, gladly a.s.sented.

"You know not, my good old man," said the gallant Murray to Halbert, as he conducted him across the galleries, "what a n.o.ble mind is contained in that lovely young creature. I was brought up with her, and to the sweet contagion of her taste do I owe that love of true glory which carries me to the side of Sir William Wallace. The virtuous only can awaken any interest in her heart; and in these degenerate days long might have been its sleep had not the history which my uncle recounted of your brave master aroused her attention, and filled her with an admiration equal to my own. I know she rejoices in my present destination. And to prevent her hearing from your own lips all you have now told me of the mild as well as heroic virtues of my intended commander--all you have said of the heroism of his wife--would be depriving her of a mournful pleasure, only to be appreciated by a heart such as hers."

The gray-haired bard of Ellerslie, who had ever received the dearest reward of his songs in the smiles of its mistress, did not require persuasion to appear before the gentle lady of Mar, or to recite in her ears the story of the departed loveliness, fairer than poet ever feigned.

Helen rose as he and her cousin appeared. Murray approved the execution of her work; and Halbert, with a full heart, took the pennon in his hand. "Ah! little did my dear lady think," exclaimed he, "that one of these loved locks would ever be suspended on a staff to lead men to battle! What changes have a few days made! She, the gentlest of women, laid in a b.l.o.o.d.y grave; and he, the most benevolent of human beings, wielding an exterminating sword!

"You speak of her grave, venerable man," inquired Helen; "had you, then, an opportunity of performing the rites of sepulture to her remains?"

"No, madam," replied he; "after the worthy English soldier now in this castle, a.s.sisted me to place her precious body in my lord's oratory, I had no opportunity of returning to give her a more holy grave."

"Alas!" cried Helen; "then her sacred relics have been consumed in the burning house!"

"I hope not," rejoined Halbert; "the chapel I speak of is at some distance from the main building. It was excavated in the rock by Sir Ronald Crawford, who gave the name of Ellerslie to this estate, in compliment to Sir William's place of birth in Renfrewshire, and bestowed it on the bridal pair. Since then, the Ellerslie of Clydesdale has been as dear to my master as that of the Carth; and well it might be, for it was not only the home of all his wedded joys, but under its roof his mother, the Lady Margaret Crawford, drew her first breath. Ah! woe is me! that happy house is now, like herself, reduced to cold, cold ashes! She married Sir Malcolm Wallace, and he is gone too! Both the parents of my honored master died in the bloom of their lives; and a grievous task will it be to whoever is to tell the good Sir Ronald that the last sweet flower of Ellerslie is now cut down!

that the n.o.blest branch of his own stem is torn from the soil to which he had transplanted it, and cast far away into the waste wilderness!"**

**The Ellerslie in Renfrewshire here referred to, and which was the birthplace of William Wallace, and the hereditary property of his father, Sir Malcolm Wallace, was situated in the abbey parish of Paisley, three miles west of the won of Paisley, and nine from Glasgow.

A large old oak, still called Wallace's Oak, stands close to the road from Paisley to Leith, and within a short distance from it once stood the manor of Ellerslie. The venerable name is now corrupted into Elderslie, and the estate has become the property of Archibald Spiers, Esq., M. P. for Renfrewshire. For this topographical account, I am indebted to a Renfrewshire gentleman.-(1809.)

The tears of the venerable harper bore testimony to his inward resolve, that this messenger should not be himself. Lady Helen, who had fallen into a reverie during the latter part of his speech, now spoke, and with something of eagerness.

"Then we shall hope," rejoined she, "that the oratory has not only escaped the flames, but perhaps the access of the English soldiers?

Would it not comfort your lord to have that sweet victim entombed according to the rites of the church?"

"Surely my lady; but how can that be done? He thinks her remains were lost in the conflagration of Ellerslie; and for fear of precipitating him into the new dangers which might have menaced him had he sought to bring away her body, I did not disprove his mistake."

"But her body shall be brought away," rejoined Lady Helen; "it shall have holy burial."

"To effect this, command my services," exclaimed Murray.

Helen thanked him for an a.s.sistance which would render the completion of her design easy. The English soldier as guide, and a troop from Bothwell, must accompany him.

"Alas! my young lord," interposed Halbert, "suppose you should meet some of the English still loitering there?"

"And what of that, my honest Halbert? would not I and my trusty band make them clear the way? Is it not to give comfort to the deliverer of my uncle, that I seek the glen? and shall anything in mortal shape make Andrew Murray turn his back? No, Halbert! I was not born on St.

Andrew's day for naught; and by his bright cross I swear either to lay Lady Wallace in the tomb of my ancestors, or leave my bones to bleach on the grave of hers."

Helen loved the resolution of her cousin; and believing that the now ravaged Ellerslie had no attractions to hold marauders amongst its ruins, she dismissed Lord Andrew to make his preparations, and turned herself to prefer her suit accordingly to her father.

Ere Halbert withdrew, he respectfully put her hand to his lips.

"Good-night," continued she, "ere you see me again, I trust the earthly part of the angel now in paradise will be safe within these towers."

He poured a thousand blessings on her head, and almost thought that he saw in her beautiful form one of heaven's inhabitants sent to bear away his dear mistress to her divine abode.