The Hammer of the Scots

by Виктория Холт

  They were waiting; they knew it was at the hour of dusk when bodies were disposed of and they saw this one thrown out; they rescued it and carried it home and there to their amazement they discovered that there was still life in it. The secret nursing appealed to Ellen’s nature. She loved intrigue. Moreover she saw that when he was in health William Wallace must have been a very fine figure of a man indeed.

  She and her mother vied with each other for the honour of tending him. First they cleaned off the filth of the prison which was no easy task.

  ‘He is all they say of him,’ said Ellen, and her mother agreed.

  They took a pride in finding nourishing food for him, and gradually they brought him back to health. They were delighted that they had played a small part in preserving the life of the man whom people had said might well be the saviour of his country.

  Sir William Wallace. When his name was mentioned Scotsmen rejoiced. One day William Wallace was going to lead them against the English.

  Once he had turned the corner they knew he would live, for his recovery was rapid, and when he heard what had happened he was deeply moved.

  ‘It is good to have friends,’ he said. ‘Ellen, you might have been thrown into prison yourself for what you have done for me.’

  ‘Our Ellen would have found a way out,’ said her mother fondly. ‘Our Ellen has friends.’

  Ellen laughed and Wallace wondered about her. As the days passed he wondered a great deal. She would sit beside his bed and tell him how she had fed him, and on more than one occasion when he was distressed she had lain beside him in his bed and soothed him in his delirium.

  ‘It seemed to comfort you,’ she said.

  ‘I can think of no greater comfort,’ replied William.

  ‘You were as a child,’ she told him. ‘It was difficult to believe this was the great Wallace.’

  ‘I was a child,’ he said, ‘completely dependent on your goodness.’

  She nodded and, leaning over him, kissed him.

  ‘Ellen,’ he said, ‘I am dependent on you still.’

  There was something warm about Ellen – warm and generous. It was the very essence of her attraction. Ellen loved easily though not deeply; but when she loved she gave freely.

  It was inevitable that as Wallace’s health improved they became lovers.

  Her mother knew but to her, knowing Ellen, that had been inevitable from the beginning. Ellen had always had lovers from the time she was fifteen. It was a natural way of life with her. She was no prostitute and she generally took one lover at a time. It was part of her generous serene nature. She never said, ‘What shall I get from this relationship?’ but she took what came as generously as she gave.

  William was enchanted with her. He was glad that he was too weak yet to leave the cottage and carry on with his mission, for he could dally with a good conscience. It was the first time that there was something he wanted to do rather than fight the English. He was amazed at himself.

  Theirs would be a transient relationship. They both knew this and accepted it, but they both wanted it to go on and on, and for each of them the wrench of parting would cause some sorrow. Hearts would not be broken – they both knew that. Ellen’s heart was so resilient and William’s was given to a cause. But that did not mean that they did not long for this pleasant state of affairs to go on and on.

  Between sessions of lovemaking he talked to her of his plans. She could help him, he said. He would trust her. She knew so many people; she knew what was going on in the town; she could draw secrets from the English, for naturally they were as charmed with her as the Scots were. ‘You will have your share in the plan to set Scotland free,’ he told her.

  She told him that should be her pleasure, but in fact she was more eager to satisfy her lover and herself than concerned with Scotland’s plight. Such as Ellen would always find a comfortable way of life whoever ruled.

  But she was fond of William Wallace. He was different from any lover she had had before, and while he was with her she was all his. She brought scraps of news from the town. Her friends often let drop items of interest. That was a comfort to William. He did not feel he was wasting so much time after all.

  There were some friends with whom he wished to get in touch. They were two young Irishmen – one named Stephen, the other Karlé – whom he had known long ago and who had been inspired by his talk of saving Scotland. While he had been lying bodily exhausted in his bed, his mind had been active. What he needed to do was gather men like himself together. It was folly to become involved in brawls with the English, especially when they could end in almost fatal results. What he should do was gather together a strong force and go into battle against them. A small band of friends could become the nucleus of an army. He wanted to talk of this with Stephen and Karlé; and if Ellen could make enquiries as to their whereabouts and bring them to him that would be a beginning.

  This might not be the difficult task it appeared to be at first because he was sure that news of his exploits had reached them. They would question his uncle’s housekeeper, and as she knew very well that they were his good friends she might send them to him.

  Of all this he could talk to Ellen, and with the passing of each day he was growing in strength and they both knew – while rejoicing in his return to health – that this spelt the end of their idyll. It gave a bitter-sweet flavour to their relationship. Ellen knew it could not last. Already her friends in the town were complaining that they saw little of her and asking why it was she stayed at home. It would not be possible to keep the secret much longer, the fact that they harboured a young man in their house. Ellen knew how to live in the present. She had been doing it all her life.

  In due course she was able to bring Stephen and Karlé to him and how he rejoiced to see them! They talked together, the four of them, of the injustices of the English and how Selby still raved about the death of his son and swore to reward any who brought William Wallace to him dead or alive.

  ‘So I am an outlaw!’ cried William, laughing.

  ‘Do not joke about it,’ begged Ellen.

  ‘What else is it but a joke?’ he demanded.

  ‘It was not a joke when they had you in Ayr jail,’ Stephen reminded him.

  ‘They did not know that I was Wallace.’

  ‘Thank God for that,’ replied Ellen.

  She brought ale and bread for them and they went on talking of how they would sound out men and build an army. ‘That is what we need,’ cried William. ‘Arms and men!’

  There was intense excitement in the little attic of the cottage, which was approached through a trap door and an ideal place in which to hide a secret guest. There it was agreed that Stephen and Karlé should travel around the garrison town, being careful not to become involved in trouble, and to discover when convoys of supplies were being delivered as they were often.

  ‘Our first plan,’ said William, ‘would be to waylay one of these. If we were successful we could capture many of the things we need. That would be a beginning.’

  ‘We need more men,’ said Stephen. ‘But it should not be difficult to find them. It seems that there are many Scotsmen now looking for a leader.’

  ‘Scout round,’ said Wallace. ‘Find a company of men but we must be sure that we can trust them. Better to have but a few loyal Scotsmen than an army and one traitor among us. We will capture one of the English convoys, and when that is successful another and another. That will set us up with arms and what we need for battle. The first should be easy for we shall take them unawares.’

  So they planned carefully.

  * * *

  He took his leave of Ellen.

  ‘You will come back,’ she said.

  ‘Aye,’ he answered. ‘I shall come back. Methinks I shall be in need of your special comfort often. Then – if it be possible – you will find me at your door.’

  He was strong again and he would never forget he owed his life to Ellen and her mother. They had rescued him from the foul midden
and he shivered to contemplate what state he must have been in when they found him. They had nourished him, they had cosseted him and they had been good friends to him, and Ellen had been mistress as well. He owed them a great deal and he meant it when he said he would never forget his debt to them.

  The Irishmen, Stephen and Karlé, had been energetic in their efforts and they found fifty men who were ready to serve William Wallace, swearing that their dedicated desire was to drive the English from Scotland.

  Moreover they had discovered that Captain Fenwick was to lead a convoy through Loudoun to Ayr and in this convoy were horses, food stuffs and arms which were being taken to Lord Percy, the Governor, at Ayr.

  If they could capture this it would be a beginning, for with these goods in their possession they could begin to build up their army. If they were successful there would be such a shout about it that men would flock to join Wallace. They would see.

  With great exultation Wallace assembled his men in the woods where they camped throughout the night. As dusk was falling he spoke to them. He talked of what the English had done to the Welsh and how they must all stand together to prevent the same humiliation falling on Scotland. They were aware of the arrogant English in the garrison towns. Their King, old Toom Tabard, chosen by Edward of England, was now in English hands, completely subservient to them. William’s father and his brother had been killed by Captain Fenwick’s company so this looked like a sign from Heaven. Captain Fenwick was now being delivered into his hands – along with all the supplies and ammunition they needed to start their campaign.

  They were with him to a man – loyal to Scotland, all of them. There was not one who was not ready and willing to give his life for that country.

  It was early morning when the convoy appeared. Wallace watched its approach and noted that there were somewhere in the region of two hundred men guarding it. Two hundred against fifty! On Wallace’s side, however, was the element of surprise which was always useful. He hoped none of his men quailed at the sight of those well-equipped soldiers on their splendid horses while they had only humble equipment and were on foot.

  They emerged from the wood.

  He heard Fenwick shout, ‘On guard. ’Tis the outlaw.’

  The outlaw was Wallace and Fenwick was exultant. What glory for him to be able to capture the man and take him to Lord Percy!

  Then he saw the men emerging from the wood, and though they were more than he had at first thought, they were a straggly band. What good would they be among trained soldiers?

  At their head was one who was unmistakably Wallace – tall, distinguished, handsome, a leader in every way.

  Wallace recognised Fenwick and made straight for him.

  ‘Charge!’ cried Fenwick and the horses galloped towards Wallace’s men.

  Wallace drove his spear through the body of a horseman. It broke and he snatched his sword from its scabbard. He turned towards Fenwick shouting: ‘Murderer! This is for my father!’ Before Fenwick could lift his arm Wallace’s sword pierced his heart and he fell from his horse. Great exhilaration filled William. His father was avenged. So should Scotland be. He was as one inspired. They said afterwards that Heaven had sent angels to protect the Scots. It was not easy to imagine how it could have happened otherwise.

  Many of the Englishmen’s horses lay writhing on the ground as the battle ensued. William, shouting encouragement to his followers, hacking right and left, felling the English as he went, miraculously escaped all harm, though sometimes narrowly. Before the battle was over a hundred English bodies lay on the Loudoun field.

  Those who had been set to guard the convoys attempted to join in the fight and that gave the Scots the opportunity to seize the booty.

  The English lost heart and those who remained, seeing the convoy lost and so many of their companions dead and wounded, seized what horses were left, their great object being to get away.

  This was triumph indeed. The saddle horses were led into the wood, their burdens joyously examined.

  ‘It is a sign from Heaven!’ cried William. ‘This day we have begun to turn the English out of Scotland.’

  * * *

  They dared not stay in the Loudoun woods for they knew there would be immediate retaliation. They must hide their booty and find headquarters where they could safeguard the spoils of their victory.

  ‘It is of the utmost importance that we keep our secrets,’ William told them. ‘Depend upon it they will double their guards after this. And they will come looking for us and in particular myself. Remember though: this is a glorious beginning. We have seen that God is on our side. Let us thank Him now for this victory, and when we have done that we will take our booty to a safe place and I’ll swear to you that after this, loyal Scotsmen will come flocking to our banner.’

  They hid in woods during the day and travelled by night, and William decided that the forest was the best place for their headquarters. Now and then some of them went into the town to listen to the talk, and they came back to report that everywhere the raid on the convoy was discussed and Wallace’s name was on every lip.

  ‘There is a glint in the eyes of Scotsmen when your name is mentioned,’ William was told.

  ‘That is good, but we must beware of traitors. We can be sure the English will set their spies everywhere.’

  ‘Lord Percy is furious,’ was the report. ‘He has reprimanded the guards at Ayr prison for throwing what they thought was your dead body over the wall. He calls them idiots because first, they did not ascertain who you were and secondly, did not satisfy themselves that you were dead.’

  William was delighted; his head buzzed with plans.

  ‘A beginning,’ he cried. ‘We are on the road.’

  During the next few weeks they made forays into the town; they attacked bands of Englishmen and took what they could from them. They were beginning to collect a store of ammunition. They had ‘won’ as they called it many fine horses. They had arms of all descriptions. Nor did they need to go hungry.

  William did not wish them to stay in one place too long as he considered that dangerous and they moved around constantly, and he trusted his men – in particular Stephen and Karlé who became his closest friends and associates. That was not all. His uncles – and other members of his numerous family who were too old to join him – sent him money and goods for his cause. He was by no means merely the outlaw who could make himself a nuisance to the intruders; he was a name to be reckoned with.

  ‘It may not be long,’ he told his men, ‘before we go into real battle.’

  Moving from forest to forest they came near to Ayr and he immediately thought of Ellen and his desire for her was so strong that he found it difficult to resist. There was no reason why he should not disguise himself and slip into the cottage, after dark. He could leave again before dawn.

  He would go. He could not stop thinking of Ellen and until they had been together he would go on doing so. He persuaded himself that it would be folly to allow himself to be obsessed by her. The best thing was to see her and get the longing out of his system.

  He must disguise himself and the idea came to him that he would go as a priest. No one would molest a priest and it was the last calling which would be connected with William Wallace. The idea amused him and he decided to put it into practice.

  It turned out to be an unfortunate choice. For as he approached the house he was seen by one of Ellen’s admirers. This man was coming to visit Ellen, but when he saw a priest going to the house he hung back and waited, not wanting to come face to face with the holy man who, he suspected, might have been going to remonstrate with Ellen on her way of life.

  The priest knocked at the door. He was let in. Ellen would surely not keep him long. He would wait until the man came out.

  Meanwhile Wallace was received with surprise by Ellen. Then he threw off his habit and she was in his arms and they were laughing at the efficaciousness of his disguise.

  ‘And you came as a priest!’ It seemed a great
joke to them. ‘And such a one that I believed you to be of the Church.’

  He told her that his longing to be with her had been so great that he had had to take the risk of coming to her.

  She said she had hoped he would some day and whenever he came there would always be a welcome for him.

  They went up to the attic where she and her mother had sheltered him all those weeks and they lay together on the truckle bed as they had in the old days.

  He told her afterwards that he with his men were in the nearby forest and that they planned to be there for some days.

  ‘So,’ she said, ‘it may well be that I shall have another visit from you, sir.’

  ‘That could well be,’ he replied.

  ‘Perhaps tomorrow night?’

  ‘Why should it not be?’

  ‘I shall look for you.’

  ‘Are you still my true friend, Ellen?’ he asked.

  ‘Until we die,’ she answered.

  So they made love again and again, but he was wary for the first streak of light was in the sky. He did not want to be seen in or near the town of Ayr by daylight for, good though his disguise might be, there was a price on his head.

  Meanwhile the man from the town waited outside Ellen’s house for the priest to emerge. He wondered why he did not. A priest … to spend the night in the house of a light woman! It was unbelievable!

  He had an impulse to knock at the door to discover what was happening but he decided not to. He would wait there until the priest came out and then he would follow him.

  He was watching when the door opened and the priest came out. Ellen was with him – beautiful Ellen – with her hair streaming about her shoulders and a loose robe scarcely covering her nakedness. She and the priest embraced in a manner which left no doubt as to their relationship and then the priest lifted his long robes and ran.