by Jane Porter
Chapter VI.
Cartlane Craigs.
The sun was rising from the eastern hills when the victorious groupre-entered the mountain-glen where their families lay. The cheerfulsounds of their bugles aroused the sleepers from their caves; and manywere the gratulations and embraces which welcomed the warriors toaffection and repose.
Wallace, while he threw himself along a bed of purple heath, gatheredfor him by many a busy female hand, listened with a calmed mind to thefond inquiries of Halbert, who, awakened by the first blast of thehorn, had started from his shelter and hastened to hail the safe returnof his master. While his faithful followers retired each to the bosomof his rejoicing family, the fugitive chief of Ellerslie remained alonewith the old man, and recounted to him the success of his enterprise,and the double injuries he had avenged. "The assassin," continued he,"has paid with his life for his inexpiable crime. He is slain, andwith him several of Edward's garrison. My vengeance may be appeased;but what, O Halbert, can bring redress to my widowed heart? All islost to me; I have now nothing to do with this world, but as I may bethe instrument of good to others! The Scottish sword has now beenredrawn against our foes; and, with the blessing of Heaven, I swear itshall not be sheathed till Scotland be rid of the tyranny which hasslain my happiness! This night my gallant Scots have sworn toaccomplish my vow, and death or liberty must be the future fate ofWallace and his friends."
At these words, tears ran down the cheeks of the venerable harper."Alas! my too brave master," exclaimed he, "what is it you would do?Why rush upon certain destruction? For the sake of her memory whom youdeplore; in pity to the worthy Earl of Mar, who will arraign himself asthe cause of all these calamities, and of your death, should you fall,retract this desperate vow!"
"No, my good Halbert," returned Wallace. "I am neither desperate norinefficient; and you, faithful creature, shall have no cause to mournthis night's resolution. GO to Lord Mar, and tell him what are myresolves. I have nothing now that binds me to life but my country; andhenceforth she shall be to me as mistress, wife and child. Would youdeprive me of this tie, Halbert? Would you, by persuading me to resignmy interest in her, devote me to a hermit's seclusion amongst theserocks? for I will never again appear in the tracks of men if it be notas the defender of her rights."
"But where, my master, shall we find you, should the earl choose tojoin you with his followers?"
"In this wilderness, whence I shall not remove rashly. My purpose isto save my countrymen, not to sacrifice them in needless dangers."
Halbert, oppressed with sorrow at the images his foreboding heart drewof the direful scenes in which his beloved master had pledged himselfto become the leader, bowed his head with submission, and, leavingWallace to his rest, retired to the mouth of the cavern to weep alone.
It was noon before the chief awoke from the death-like sleep into whichkind nature had plunged his long-harassed senses. He opened his eyeslanguidly, and when the sight of his rocky apartment forced on him therecollection of all his miseries, he uttered a deep groan. That sadsound, so different from the jocund voice with which Wallace used toissue from his rest, struck on the heart of Halbert; he drew near hismaster to receive his last commands for Bothwell. "On my knees," addedhe, "will I implore the earl to send you succor."
"He needs not prayers for that," returned Wallace; "but depart, dear,worthy Halbert; it will comfort me to know you are in safety; andwhithersoever you go, you carry my thanks and blessings with you."
Old age opens the fountains of tears; Halbert's flowed profusely, andbathed his master's hand. Could Wallace have wept, it would have beenthen; but that gentle emollient of grief was denied to him, and, with avoice of assumed cheerfulness, he renewed his efforts to encourage hisdesponding servant. Half persuaded that a Superior Being did indeedcall his beloved master to some extraordinary exertions for Scotland,Halbert bade him an anxious farewell, and then withdrew to commit himto the fidelity of the companions of his destiny.
A few of them led the old man on his way, as far as the westerndeclivity of the hills, and then, bidding him good speed, he took theremainder of his journey alone.
After traversing many a weary mile, between Cartlane Craigs andBothwell Castle, he reached the valley in which that fortress stands,and calling to the warder at his gates, that he came from Sir WilliamWallace, was immediately admitted, and conducted into the castle.
Halbert was led by a servant into a spacious chamber, where the earllay on a couch. A lady, richly habited, and in the bloom of life, satat his head. Another, much younger, and of resplendent beauty, kneltat his feet, with a salver of medicinal cordials in her hand. The LadyMarion's loveliness had been that of a soft moonlight evening; but theface which now turned upon Halbert as he entered, was "full of light,and splendor, and joy;" and the old man's eyes, even though dimmed intears, were dazzled. A young man stood near her. On the entrance ofHalbert, whom the earl instantly recognized, he raised himself on hisarm, and welcomed him. The young lady rose, and the young man steppedeagerly forward.
The earl inquired anxiously for Sir William Wallace, and asked if hemight expect him soon at Bothwell.
"He cannot yet come, my lord," replied Halbert; "hard is the task hehas laid upon his valiant head; but he is avenged! He has slain theGovernor of Lanark." A faint exclamation broke from the lips of theyoung lady.
"How?" demanded the earl.
Halbert now gave a particular account of the anguish of Wallace, whenhe was told of the sanguinary events which had taken place atEllerslie. As the honest harper described, in his own ardent language,the devoted zeal with which the shepherds on the heights took up armsto avenge the wrong done to their chief, the countenance of the younglady, and of the youth, glowed through tears; they looked on eachother; and Halbert proceeded:
"When my dear master and his valiant troop were pursuing their way toLanark, he was met by Dugald, the wounded man who had rushed into theroom to apprise us of the advance of the English forces. During theconfusion of that horrible night, and in the midst of the contention,in spite of his feebleness he crept away, and concealed himself fromthe soldiers amongst the bushes of the glen. When all was over, hecame from his hiding-place; and finding the English soldier's helmetand cloak, poor Dugald, still fearful of falling in with any stragglingparty of Heselrigge's, disguised himself in those Southron clothes.Exhausted with hunger, he was venturing toward the house in search offood, when the sight of armed men in the hall made him hastily retreatinto his former place of refuge. His alarm was soon increased by aredoubled noise from the house; oaths and horrid bursts of merrimentseemed to have turned that once abode of honor and of loveliness intothe clamorous haunts of ribaldry and rapine. In the midst of theuproar, he was surprised by seeing flames issue from the windows.Soldiers poured from the doors with shouts of triumph; some carried offthe booty, and others watched by the fire till the interior of thebuilding was consumed and the rest sunk a heap of smoking ruins.
"The work completed, these horrid ministers of devastation left thevale to its own solitude. Dugald, after waiting a long time toascertain they were quite gone, crawled from the bushes, and, ascendingthe cliffs, he was speeding to the mountains, when, encountering ourarmed shepherds, they mistook him for an English soldier, and seizedhim. The chief of ruined Ellerslie recognized his servant; and, withredoubled indignation, his followers heard the history of the molderingashes before them."
"Brave, persecuted Wallace!" exclaimed the earl; "how dearly was mylife purchased! But proceed, Halbert; tell me that he returned safefrom Lanark."
Halbert now recounted the dreadful scenes which took place in thattown; and that when the governor fell, Wallace made a vow never tomingle with the world again till Scotland should be free.
"Alas!" cried the earl, "what miracle is to effect that? Surely hewill not bury those noble qualities, that prime of manhood, within thegloom of a cloister!"
"No, my lord; he has retired to the fastnesses of Cartlane Craigs."
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"Why," resumed Mar, "why did he not rather fly to me? This castle isstrong; and while one stone of it remains upon another, not all thehosts of England should take him hence."
"It was not your friendship he doubted," returned the old man, "lovefor his country compels him to reject all comfort in which she does notshare. His last words to me were these: 'I have nothing now to do butto assert the liberties of Scotland, and to rid her of her enemies. Goto Lord Mar; take this lock of my hair, stained with the blood of mywife. It is all, most likely, he will ever again see of WilliamWallace. Should I fall, tell him to look on that, and in my wrongsread the future miseries of Scotland; and remember, that God armeth thepatriot!"
Tears dropped so fast from the young lady's eyes, she was obliged towalk to a window, to restrain a more violent burst of grief.
"O! my uncle," cried the youth, "surely the freedom of Scotland ispossible. I feel in my soul, that the words of the brave Wallace areprophetic."
The earl held the lock of hair in his hands; he regarded it, lost inmeditation.
"'God armeth the patriot!'" He paused again, his before pallid cheektaking a thousand animated hues; then raising the sacred present to hislips, "Yes," cried he, "thy vow shall be performed; and while DonaldMar has an arm to wield a sword, or a man to follow to the field, thoushalt command both him and them!"
"But not as you are, my lord!" cried the elder lady; "your wounds areyet unhealed; your fever is still raging! Would it not be madness toexpose your safety at such a crisis?"
"I shall not take arms myself," answered he, "till I can bear them toeffect; meanwhile all of my clan, and of my friends, that I can raiseto guard the life of my deliverer and to promote the cause, must besummoned. This lock shall be my pennon; and what Scotsman will look onthat, and shrink from his colors! Here, Helen, my child," cried he,addressing the young lady, "before to-morrow's dawn, have this hairwrought into my banner. It will be a patriot's standard; and let hisown irresistible words be the motto--God armeth me."
Helen advanced with awestruck trepidation. Having been told by theearl of the generous valor of Wallace, and of the cruel death of hislady, she had conceived a gratitude and a pity deeper than languagecould express, for the man who had lost so much by succoring one sodear to hear. She took the lock, waving in yellow light upon herhands, and, trembling with emotion, was leaving the room, when sheheard 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 bannerto Sir William Wallace."
Helen stopped at the threshold to hear the reply.
"You could not, my dear nephew," returned the earl, "have asked me anyfavor I could grant with so much joy. To-morrow I will collect thepeasantry of Bothwell, and with those, and my own followers, you shalljoin Wallace the same night."
Ignorant of the horrors of war, and only alive to the glory of thepresent cause, Helen sympathized in the ardor of her cousin, and with athrill of sad delight hurried to her apartment, to commence her task.
Far different were the sentiments of the countess, her stepmother. Assoon as Lord Mar had let this declaration escape his lips, alarmed atthe effect so much agitation might have on his enfeebled constitution,and fearful of the perilous cause he ventured thus openly to espouse,she desired his nephew to take the now comforted Halbert (who waspouring forth his gratitude to the earl, for the promptitude of hisorders), and see that he was attended with hospitality.
When the room was left to the earl and herself, she ventured toremonstrate with him upon the facility with which he had become a partyin so treasonable a matter. "Consider, my lord," continued she, "thatScotland is now entirely in the power of the English monarch. Hisgarrisons occupy our towns, his creatures hold every place of trust inthe kingdom!"
"And is such a list of oppressions, my dear lady, to be an argument forlonger bearing them? Had I, and other Scottish nobles, dared to resistthis overwhelming power after the battle of our liberties, kept our ownunsheathed within the bulwarks of our mountains, Scotland might now befree; I should not have been insulted by our English tyrants in thestreets of Lanark; and, to save my life, William Wallace would not nowbe 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 attemptingto assist your friend in this rash essay to recover it, you will onlylose yourself also, without preserving him. The project is wild andneedless. What would you have? Now that the contention between thetwo kings is past; now that Baliol has surrendered his crown to Edward,is not Scotland at peace?"
"A bloody peace, Joanna," answered the earl; "witness these wounds. Ausurper's peace is more destructive than his open hostilities; plunderand assassination are its concomitants. I have now seen and feltenough of Edward's jurisdiction. It is time I should awake, and, likeWallace, determine to die for Scotland, or avenge her."
Lady Mar wept. "Cruel Donald! is this the reward of all my love andduty? You tear yourself from me, you consign your estates tosequestration, you rob your children of their name; nay, by yourinfectious example, you stimulate our brother Bothwell's son to headthe band that is to join this madman, Wallace!"
"Hold, Joanna!" cried the earl; "what is it I hear? You call the herowho, in saving your husband's life, reduced himself to these cruelextremities, a madman! Was he made because he prevented the Countessof Mar from being a widow? Was he made because he prevented herchildren from being fatherless?"
The countess, overcome by this cutting reproach, threw herself upon herhusband's neck. "Alas! my lord," cried she, "all is madness to me thatwould plunge you into danger. Think of your own safety; of my innocenttwins now in their cradle, should you fall. Think of our brother'sfeeling when you send his only son to join one he, perhaps, would calla rebel!"
"If Earl Bothwell considered himself a vassal of Edward's he would notnow be with Lord Loch-awe. From the moment that gallant Highlanderretired to Argyleshire, the King of England regarded his adherents withsuspicion. Bothwell's present visit to Loch-awe, you see, issufficient to sanction the plunder of this castle by the peacefulgovernment you approve. You saw the opening of those proceedings! Andhad they come to their dreadful issue, where, my dear Joanna, would nowbe your home, your husband, your children? It was the arm of the bravechief of Ellerslie which saved them from destruction."
Lady Mar shuddered. "I admit the truth of what you say. But oh! is itnot hard to put my all to the hazard; to see the bloody field on oneside of my beloved Donald, and the mortal scaffold on the other?"
"Hush!" cried the earl, "it is justice that beckons me, and victorywill receive me to her arms. Let, oh Power above!" exclaimed he, inthe fervor of enthusiasm, "let the victorious field for Scotland beDonald Mar's grave, rather than doom him to live a witness of hermiseries!"
"I cannot stay to hear you!" answered the countess; "I must invoke theVirgin to give me courage to be a patriot's wife; at present, yourwords are daggers to me."
In uttering this she hastily withdrew, and left the earl to muse on thepast--to concert plans for the portentous future.
