by Jane Porter
Chapter XI.
The Chapter House.
The march of De Valence from the castle having proved that no suspicionof any of its late inhabitants being still in the neighborhood remainedwith its usurpers, Grimsby thought he might depart in safety; and nextmorning he begged permission of the prior to commence his journey. "Iam anxious to quit a land," said he, "where my countrymen arecommitting violences which make me blush at the name of Englishman."
Murray put a purse of gold into the soldier's hand, while the priorcovered his armor with a pilgrim's gown. Grimsby, with a respectfulbow, returned the gift; "I cannot take money from you, my lord. Butbestow on me the sword at your side, and that I will preserve forever."
Murray took it off, and gave it to the soldier. "Let us exchange, mybrave friend!" said he; "give me yours, and it shall be a memorial tome of having found virtue in an Englishman."
Grimsby unlocked his rude weapon in a moment, and as he put the ironhilt into the young Scot's hand, a tear stood in his eye: "When youraise this sword against my countrymen, think on Grimsby, a faithful,though humble soldier of the cross, and spare the blood of all who askfor mercy."
Murray looked a gracious assent, for the tear of mercy was infectious.Without speaking, he gave the good soldier's hand a parting grasp; andwith regret that superior claims called so brave a man from his side,he saw him leave the monastery.
The mourner banquets on memory; making that which seems the poison oflife, its ailment. During the hours of regret we recall the images ofdeparted joys; and in weeping over each tender remembrance, tears sosoftly shed embalm the wounds of grief. To be denied the privilege ofpouring forth our love and our lamentations over the grave of one whoin life was our happiness, is to shut up the soul of the survivor in asolitary tomb, where the bereaved heart pines in secret till it breakswith the fullness of uncommunicated sorrow; but listen to the mourner,give his feelings way, and, like the river rolling from the hills intothe valley, they will flow with a gradually gentler stream, till theybecome lost in time's wide ocean.
So Murray judged when the poor old harper, finding himself alone withhim, again gave loose to his often-recapitulated griefs. He wept likean infant; and recounting the afflictions of his master, whilebewailing the disasters at Bothwell, implored Murray to go withoutdelay to support the now almost friendless Wallace. Murray wasconsoling him with the assurance that he would set off for themountains that very evening, when the prior returned to conduct Halbertto a cell appointed for his novitiate. The good priest had placed oneof his most pious fathers there, to administer both temporal andspiritual cordials to the aged sufferer.
The sorrowing domestic of Wallace being thus disposed of, the prior andMurray remained together, consulting on the safest means of passing tothe Cartlane hills. A lay brother whom the prior had sent in pursuitof Helen's fifty warriors, to apprise them of the English being in thecraigs, at this juncture entered the library. He informed the fatherthat, secure in his religious garb, he had penetrated many of theCartlane defiles, but could neither see nor hear anything of the party.Every glen or height was occupied by the English: and from a woman, ofwhom he begged a draught of milk, he had learned how closely themountains were invested. The English commander, in his zeal to preventprovisions being conveyed to Wallace and his famishing garrison, hadstopped a procession of monks bearing a dead body to the sepulchralcave of St. Columba. He would not allow them to ascend the heightsuntil he had examined whether the bier really bore a corpse, or was avehicle to carry food to the beleaguered Scots.
In the midst of this information, the prior and his friends werestartled by a shout, and soon after a tumult of voices, in which mightbe distinguished the cry of "A gallows for the traitor!"
"Our brave Englishman has fallen into their hands," cried Murray,hastening toward the door.
"What would you do?" interrupted the prior, holding him. "Your singlearm could not save the soldier. The cross has more power; I will seekthese violent men. Meanwhile stay here, as you value the lives of allin the convent."
Murray had now recollected himself, and acquiesced. The prior took thecrucifix from the altar, and ordering the porter to throw open thegreat doors (near which the incessant shouting seemed to proceed), heappeared before a turbulent band of soldiers, who were dragging a manalong, fast bound with their leathern belts. Blood trickling from hisface fell on the hands of the ruthless wretches, who, with horridyells, were threatening him with instant death.
The prior, raising the cross, rushed in among them, and, in the name ofthe blessed Son who died on that tree, bade them stand! The soldierstrembled before the holy majesty of his figure, and at his awfuladjuration. The prior looked on the prisoner, but he did not see thedark locks of the Englishman; it was the yellow hair of Scotland thatmingled with the blood on his forehead.
"Whither do you hurry that wounded man?"
"To his death," answered a surly fellow.
"What is his offense?"
"He is a traitor."
"How has he proved it?"
"He is a Scot, and he belongs to the disloyal Lord of Mar. This bugle,with its crowned falcon, proves it," added the Southron, holding up thevery bugle which the earl had sent by Halbert to Wallace, and which wasornamented with the crest of Mar wrought in gold.
"That this has been Lord Mar's," replied the prior, "there is no doubt;but may not this man have found it? Or may it not have been given tohim by the earl, before that chief incurred the displeasure of KingEdward? Which of you would think it just to be made to die becauseyour friend was condemned to the scaffold? Unless you substantiateyour charge against this man, by a better proof than this bugle, hisdeath would be a murder, which the Lord of life will requite in theperdition of your souls." As the father spoke, he again elevated thecross: the men turned pale.
"I am a minister of Christ," continued he, "and must be the friend ofjustice. Release, therefore, that wounded man to me. Before the altarof the Searcher of all hearts he shall confess himself; and if I findthat he is guilty unto death, I promise you by the holy St. Fillan, torelease him to your commanding officer, and so let justice take itscourse. But if he proves innocent, I am the soldier of Christ, and nomonarch on earth shall wrest his children from the protection of thechurch."
While he spoke, the men who held the prisoner let go their hold, andthe prior stretching out his hand, gave him to a party of monks toconduct into the convent. Then, to convince the soldiers that it wasthe man's life he sought to save, and not the spoil, he returned thegolden bugle, and bade him depart in peace.
Awed by the father's address, and satisfied with the money and arms ofwhich they had rifled the stranger, the marauders retreated;determining, indeed, to say nothing of the matter to the officer in thecastle, lest he should demand the horn; and, elated with the presentbooty, they marched off to pursue their plundering excursion. Burstinginto yeomen's houses and peasants' huts, stripping all of theirsubstance who did or did not swear fealty to Edward; thus robbing thelatter, and exacting contributions from the former; while vain prayersfor mercy and unanswered cries for redress echoed dolefully through thevale of Bothwell, they sped gayly on, as if murder were pastime andrapine honor.
The prior, on returning into the convent, ordered the gates to bebolted. When he entered the chapter-house, finding the monks hadalready bound up the wounds of the stranger, he made a sign for thebrethren to withdraw: and then, approaching the young man, "My son,"said he, in a mild tone, "you heard my declaration to the men from whomI took you! Answer me the truth and you shall find that virtue orrepentance have alike a refuge in the arms of the church. As I am itsservant, no man need fear to confide in me. Speak with candor! Howcame you by that bugle?"
The stranger looked steadfastly on his questioner; "A minister of theall righteous God cannot mean to deceive. You have saved my life, andI should be less than man could I doubt the evidence of that deed. Ireceived that bugle from a brave Scot who dwells amongst the easternmoun
tains; and who gave it to me to assure the Earl of Mar that I camefrom him."
The prior apprehended that it was of Wallace he spoke. "You come torequest a military aid from the Earl of Mar!" rejoined the father,willing to sound him, before he committed Murray, by calling him to theconference.
The stranger replied: "If, reverend sir, you are in the confidence ofthe good earl, pronounce but the Christian name of the man who chargedme with the bugle, and allow me, then, for his sake, to ask you whathas indeed happened to the earl! that I was seized by foes, when Iexpected to meet with friends only! Reply to this, and I shall speakfreely; but at present, though I would confide all of myself to yoursacred character, yet the confidence of others is not mine to bestow."
The prior, being convinced by this caution, that he was indeed speakingwith some messenger from Wallace, made no hesitation to answer. "Yourmaster is a knight, and a braver never drew breath since the time ofhis royal namesake, William the Lion!"
The man rose hastily from his seat, and falling on his knees before theprior, put his garment to his lips: "Father, I now know that I am witha friend of my persecuted master! But if, indeed, the situation ofLord Mar precludes assistance from him, all hope is lost! The nobleWallace is penned within the hills, without any hopes of escape.Suffer me, then, thou venerable saint! to rejoin him immediately, thatI may at least die with my friend!"
"Hope for a better destiny," returned the prior; "I am a servant, andnot to be worshiped; turn to that altar, and kneel to Him who can alonesend the succor you need!"
The good man, thinking it was now time to call the young lord ofBothwell, by a side-door from the chapter-house entered the library,where Murray was anxiously awaiting his return. On his entrance, theimpatient youth eagerly exclaimed, "Have you rescued him?"
"Grimsby, I hope, is far and safely on his journey," answered the goodpriest; "but the man those murderers were dragging to death, is in thechapter-house. Follow me, and he will give you news of Wallace."
Murray gladly obeyed.
At sight of a Scottish knight in armor, the messenger of Wallacethought his prayers were answered, and that he saw before him theleader of the host which was to march to the preservation of his bravecommander. Murray told him who he was; and learned from him in return,that Wallace now considered himself in a state of siege; that thewomen, children, and old men with him, had nothing to feed on but wildstrawberries and birds' eggs, which they found in the hollows of therocks. "To relieve them from such hard quarters, girded by a barrierof English soldiers," continued the narrator, "is his first wish: butthat cannot be effected by our small number. However, he would makethe attempt by a strategem, could we be at all supported by succorsfrom the Earl of Mar!"
"My uncle's means," replied Murray, "are for a time cut off: but mineshall be exerted to the utmost. Did you not meet, somewhere, a companyof Scots to the number of fifty? I sent them off yesterday to seekyour noble chief."
"No," rejoined the young man; "I fear they have been taken by theenemy; for in my way to Sir William Wallace, not knowing the Englishwere so close to his sanctuary, I was nearly seized myself. I had notthe good fortune to be with him, when he struck the first blow forScotland in the citadel of Lanark; but as soon as I heard the tale ofhis wrongs, and that he had retired in arms toward the Cartlane Craigs,I determined to follow his fate. We had been companions in our boyishdays, and friends after. He saved my life once, in swimming; and nowthat a formidable nation menaces his, I seek to repay the debt. Forthis purpose, a few nights ago I left my guardian's house by stealth,and sought my way to my friend. I found the banks of the Mouseoccupied by the English; but exploring the most intricate passes, atlast gained the bottom of the precipice on the top of which Wallace isencamped; and as I lay among the bushes, watching an opportunity toascend, I perceived two English soldiers near me. They were indiscourse, and I overheard them say, that besides Heselrigge himself,nearly two hundred of his garrison had fallen by the hand of Wallace'smen in the contention at the castle; that the tidings were sent to SirRichard Arnulf, the Deputy-governor of Ayr; and he had dispatched athousand men to surround the Cartland Craigs, spies having given noticethat they were Sir William's strongholds, and the orders were, that hemust be taken dead or alive; while all his adherents, men and women,should receive no quarter.
"Such was the information I brought to my gallant friend, when in thedead of night I mounted the rock, and calling to the Scottish sentinelin Gaelic, gave him my name, and was allowed to enter the sacred spot.Wallace welcomed his faithful Ker,** and soon unfolded his distress andhis hopes. He told me of the famine that threatened his littlegarrison; of the constant watching, day and night, necessary to preventa surprise. But in his extremity, he observed that one defile wasthinly guarded by the enemy; probably because, as it lay at the bottomof a perpendicular angle of the rock, they thought it unattainable bythe Scots. To this point, however, my dauntless friend turns his eyes.He would attempt it, could he procure a sufficient number of fresh mento cover the retreat of his exhausted few. For this purpose, as I hadso lately explored the most hidden paths of the craigs, I volunteeredto visit the Lord Mar, and to conduct, in safety, any succors he mightsend to our persecuted leader."
**The stem of this brave name, in subsequent times, became two greatbranches, the Roxburghe and the Lothian.
"This," continued Ker, "was the errand on which I came to the earl.Think then my horror, when in my journey I found redoubled legionshemming in the hills; and on advancing toward Bothwell Castle, wasseized with that nobleman, who, they said, was condemned to lose hishead!"
"Not so bad as that, my brave Ker," cried Murray, a glow of indignationflushing his cheek; "many a bull's head** shall frown in this land, onthe Southron tables, before my uncle's neck gluts their axes! No trueScottish blood, I trust, will ever stain their scaffolds; for while wehave arms to wield a sword, he must be a fool that grounds them on anyother terms than freedom or death. We have cast our lives on the die;and Wallace's camp or the narrow house must be our prize!"
**A bull's head, presented at a feast, was a sign that some one of thecompany was immediately to be put to death.-(1809.)
"Noble youth!" exclaimed the prior, "may the innocence which givesanimation to your courage, continue its moving soul! They only areinvincible who are as ready to die as to live; and no one can be firmin that principle, whose exemplary life is not a happy preparation forthe awful change."
Murray bowed modestly to this pious encomium, and turning to Ker,informed him, that since he must abandon all hope of hearing any moreof the fifty brave men his cousin Helen had sent to the craigs, hebethought him of applying to his uncle, Sir John Murray, who dwelt hardby, on his estate at Drumshargard. "It is small," said he, "and cannotafford many men; but still he may spare sufficient to effect the escapeof our commander; and that for the present will be a host!"
To accomplish his design without delay--for promptitude is the earnestof success--and to avoid a surprise from the English lieutenant atBothwell (who, hearing of the reencounter before the castle, mightchoose to demand his men's prisoner). Murray determined to take Kerwith him; and, disguised as peasants, as soon as darkness should shroudtheir movements, proceed to Drumshargard.
