The Scottish Chiefs

by Jane Porter

  Chapter XVI.

  The Glen of Stones.

  They proceeded in silence through the curvings of the dell till itopened into a hazardous path along the top of a far-extending cliff,which overhung and clasped in the western side of a deep loch. As theymounted the pending wall of this immense amphitheater, Helen watchedthe sublime uprise of the king of light issuing from behind theopposite citadel of rocks, and borne aloft on a throne of clouds thatswam in floating gold. The herbage on the cliffs glittered with liquidemeralds, as his beams kissed their summits; and the lake beneathsparkled like a sea of molten diamonds. All nature seemed to rejoiceat the presence of this magnificent emblem of the Most High. Helen'sheart swelled with devotion, and its sacred voice breathed from herlips.

  "Such," thought she, "O sun, art thou! The resplendent image of theGiver of all Good. Thy cheering beams, like his all-cheering Spirit,pervade the soul, and drive thence the despondency of cold anddarkness. But bright as thou art, how does the similitude fade beforegodlike man, the true image of his Maker. How far do his protectingarms extend over the desolate! How mighty is the power of hisbenevolence to dispense succor, to administer consolation!"

  As she thus mused her eyes fell on the noble mien of the knight, who,with his spear in his hand, and wrapped in his dark mantle of mingledgreens, led the way, with a graceful but rapid step, along the shelvingdeclivity. Turning suddenly to the left, he struck into a defilebetween two prodigious craggy mountains, whose brown cheeks, tricklingwith ten thousand mountains, whose brown cheeks, trickling with tenthousand rills, seemed to weep over the deep gloom of the valleybeneath. Scattered fragments of rock from the cliffs above coveredwith their huge and almost impassable masses the surface of the ground.Not an herb was to be seen; all was black, barren, and terrific. Onentering this horrid pass, Helen would have shuddered, had she notplaced implicit confidence in her conductor.

  As they advanced, the vale gradually narrowed, and at last shut themwithin an immense chasm, which seemed to have been cleft at itstowering summit, to admit a few beams of light to the desert below. Adark river flowed along, amid which the bases of the mountains showedtheir union by the mingling of many a rugged cliff, projecting upwardin a variety of strange and hideous forms. The men who carried Helen,with some difficulty found a safe footing. However, after frequentrests, and unremitted caution, they at last extricated themselves fromthe most intricate path, and more lightly followed their chief into aless gloomy part of this chaos of nature. The knight stopped, andapproaching the bier, told Helen they had arrived at the end of theirjourney.

  "In the heart of that cliff," said he, "is the hermit's cell; adesolate shelter, but a safe one. Old age and poverty hold notemptations to the enemies of Scotland."

  As he spoke the venerable man, who had heard voices beneath, appearedon the rock; and while his tall and majestic figure, clad in gray,moved forward, and his silver beard flowed from his saintly countenanceupon the air, he seemed the bard of Morven, issuing from his cave ofshells to bid a hero's welcome to the young and warlike Oscar.

  "Bless thee, my son," cried he, as he descended; "what good or evilaccident hath returned thee so soon to these solitudes?"

  The knight briefly related the circumstances of Helen's rescue, andthat he had brought her to share his asylum.

  The hermit took her by the hand, and graciously promised her everyservice in his power. He then preceded the knight, whose firmer armsupported her up the rock, to the outer apartment of the cell.

  A sacred awe struck her as she entered this place, dedicated wholly toGod. She bowed, and crossed herself. The hermit, observing herdevotion, blessed her, and bade her welcome to the abode of peace.

  "Here, daughter," said he, "has one son of persecuted Scotland found arefuge. There is naught alluring in these wilds to attract thespoiler. The green herb is all the food they afford, and the limpidwater their best beverage."

  "Ah!" returned Helen, with grateful animation, "would to Heaven thatall who love the freedom of Scotland were now within this glen! Theherb and the stream would be luxuries when tasted in liberty and hope.My father, his friend-" she stopped, recollecting that she had almostbetrayed the secrecy she meant to maintain, and looking down, remainedin confused silence. The knight gazed at her, and much wished topenetrate what she concealed, but delicacy forbade him to urge heragain. He spoke not; but the hermit, ignorant of her reluctance toreveal her family, resumed:

  "I do not wonder, gentle lady, that you speak in terms which tell meeven your tender sex feels the tyranny of Edward. Who in Scotland isexempt? The whole country groans beneath his oppressions, and thecruelty of his agents makes its rivulets run with blood. Six monthsago I was Abbot of Scone. Because I refused to betray my trust, andresign the archives of the kingdom lodged there, Edward, therebel--anointed of the Lord! the profaner of the sanctuary! sent hisemissaries to sack the convent, to tear the holy pillow of Jacob fromits shrine, and to wrest from my grasp the records I refused todeliver. All was done as the usurper commanded. Most of my brethrenwere slain. Myself and the remainder were turned out upon the waste.We retired to the Monastery of Cambuskenneth; but there oppressionfound us. Cressingham, having seized on other religious houses,determined to swell his hoards with the plunder of that also. In thedead of night the attack was made. My brethren fled; I knew notwhither to go; but, determined to fly far from the tracts of ourravagers, I took my course over the hills, and finding the valley ofstones fit for my purpose, for two months have lived alone in thiswilderness."

  "Unhappy Scotland!" ejaculated Helen. Her eyes had followed the chief,who, during this narrative, leaned thoughtfully against the entrance ofthe cave. His eyes were cast upward with an expression that made herheart utter the exclamation which had escaped her.

  The knight turned and approached her. "You hear from the lips of myvenerable friend," said he, "a direful story; happy then am I, gentlelady, that you and he have found a refuge, though a rough one. I mustnow tear myself from this tranquillity to seek scenes more befitting ayounger son of the country he deplores."

  Helen felt unable to answer. But the abbot spoke; "And am I not to seeyou again?"

  "That is as Heaven wills," replied he; "but as it is unlikely on thisside the grave, my best pledge of friendship is this lady. To you shemay reveal what she had withheld from me; but in either case, she issecure in your goodness."

  "Rely on my faith, my son; and may the Almighty's shield hang on yoursteps!"

  The knight turned to Helen. "Farewell, sweet lady!" said he. Shetrembled at the words, and, hardly conscious of what she did, held outher hand to him. He took it, and drew it toward his lips, but checkinghimself, he only pressed it, while in a mournful voice he added, "inyour prayer, sometimes remember the most desolate of men!"

  A mist seemed to pass over the eyes of Lady Helen. She felt as if onthe point of losing something most precious to her. "My prayers for myown preserver, and for my father's," cried she, in an agitated voice,"shall ever be mingled. And, if ever it be safe to remember me--shouldHeaven indeed arm the patriot's hand--then my father may be proud toknow and to thank the brave deliverer of his child."

  The knight paused, and looked with animation upon her. "Then yourfather is in arms, and against the tyrant! Tell me where, and you seebefore you a man who is ready to join him, and to lay down his life inthe just cause!"

  At this vehement declaration, Lady Helen's full heart overflowed, andshe burst into tears. He drew toward her, and in a moderated voicecontinued: "My men, though few, are brave. They are devoted to theircountry, and are willing for her sake to follow me to victory or todeath. As I am a knight, I am sworn to defend the cause of right; andwhere shall I so justly find it, as on the side of bleeding, wastedScotland? How shall I so well pursue my career as in the defense ofher injured sons? Speak, gentle lady! trust me with your noblefather's name, and he shall not have cause to blame the confidence yourepose in a true though wandering Scot!"

 
"My father," replied Helen, weeping afresh, "is not where your generousservices can reach him. Two brave chiefs, one a kinsman of my own, andthe other his friend, are now colleagued to free him. If they fail, mywhole house falls in blood! and to add another victim to the destinywhich in that case will overwhelm me--the thought is beyond mystrength." Faint with agitation, and the horrible images whichreawakened her direst fears, she stopped; and then added in asuppressed voice, "Farewell!"

  "Not till you hear me further," replied he. "I repeat I have now ascanty number of followers; but I leave these mountains to gather more.Tell me, then, where I may join these chiefs you speak of. Give me apledge that I come from you; and whoever may be your father, as he is atrue Scot, I will compass his release, or perish in the attempt."

  "Alas! generous stranger," cried she, "to what would you persuade me?You know not the peril that you seek!"

  "Nothing is perilous to me," replied he, with an heroic smile, "that isto serve my country. I have no interest, no joy but in her. Give me,then, the only happiness of which I am now capable, and send me toserve her, by freeing one of her defenders!"

  Helen hesitated. The tumult of her mind dried her tears. She lookedup, with all these inward agitations painted on her cheeks. Hisbeaming eyes were full of patriotic ardor; and his fine countenance,composed into a heavenly calmness by the sublime sentiments whichoccupied his soul, made him appear to her not a as man, but as an angelfrom the armed host of heaven.

  "Fear not, lady," said the hermit, "that you would plunge yourdeliverer into any extraordinary danger by involving him in what youmight call rebellion against the usurper. He is already a proscribedman."

  "Proscribed!" repeated she; "wretched indeed is my country when hernoblest spirits are denied the right to live!-when every step they taketo regain what has been torn from them, only involves them in deeperruin!"

  "No country is wretched, sweet lady," returned the knight, "till, by adastardly acquiescence, it consents to its own slavery. Bonds, anddeath, are the utmost of our enemy's malice; the one is beyond hispower to inflict, when a man is determined to die or to live free; andfor the other, which of us will think that ruin, which leads to theblessed freedom of paradise?"

  Helen looked on the chief as she used to look on her cousin, whenexpressions of virtuous enthusiasm burst from his lips; but now it wasrather with the gaze of admiring awe than the exhultation of oneyouthful mind sympathizing with another. "You would teach confidenceto Despair herself," returned she; "again I hope; for God does notcreate in vain! You shall know every danger with which that knowledgeis surrounded. He is hemmed in by enemies. Alas, how closely are theyconnected with him! Not the English only, but the most powerful of hiscountrymen are leagues against him. They sold my father to captivity,and, perhaps, to death; and I, wretched I, was the price. To free him,the noblest of Scottish knights is now engaged; but such hosts impedehim, that hope hardly dares hover over his tremendous path."

  "Then," cried the stranger, "let my arm be second to his in the greatachievement. My heart yearns to meet a brother in arms who feels forScotland what I do; and with such a coadjutor, I dare promise yourfather liberty, and that the power of England shall be shaken."

  Helen's heart beat violently at these words. "I would not defer theunion of two such minds. Go, then, to the Cartlane Craigs. But, alas!how can I direct you?" cried she. "The passes are beset with English;and I know not whether at this moment the brave Wallace survives, to beagain the deliverer of my father!"

  Helen paused. The recollection of all that Wallace had suffered forthe sake of her father, and of the mortal extremity in which Ker hadleft him, rose like a dreadful train of apparitions before her. A palehorror overspread her countenance; and lost in these remembrances, shedid not remark the start, and rushing color of the knight, as shepronounced the name of Wallace.

  "If Wallace ever had the happiness of serving any who belonged to you,"returned the knight, "he has at least one source of pleasure in thatremembrance. Tell me what he can further do. Only say, where is thatfather whom you say he once preserved, and I will hasten to yield myfeeble aid to repeat the service!"

  "Alas!" replied Helen, "I cannot but repeat my fears that the bravestof men no longer exists. Two days before I was betrayed into the handsof the traitor from whom you rescued me, a messenger from CartlaneCraigs informed my cousin that the gallant Wallace was surrounded; andif my father did not send forces to relieve him, he must inevitablyperish. No forces could my father send; he was then made a prisoner bythe English; his retainers shared the same fate, and none but my cousinescaped, to accompany the honest Scotch back to his master. My cousinset forth with a few followers to join him--a few against thousands."

  "They are in arms for their country, lady," returned the knight; "and athousand invisible angels guard them; fear not for them! But for yourfather; name to me the place of his confinement, and as I have not thebesiegers of Cartlane Craigs to encounter. I engage, with God's help,and the arms of my men (who never yet shrunk from sword or spear), toset the brave earl free!"

  "How!" exclaimed Helen, remembering that she had not yet mentioned herfather's rank, and gazing at him with astonishment; "do you know hisname--is the misfortune of my father already so far spread?"

  "Rather say his virtue, lady," answered the knight; "no man who watchesover the destiny of our devoted country can be ignorant of her friends,or of the sufferers who bear injury for her sake. I know that the Earlof Mar has made himself a generous sacrifice, but I am yet to learn thecircumstances from you. Speak without reserve, that I may seek theaccomplishment of my vow, and restore to Scotland its best friend!"

  "Thou brother in heart to the generous Wallace!" exclaimed Lady Helen,"my voice is too feeble to thank thee." The hermit, who had listenedin silent interest, now, fearing the consequence of so much emotion,presented her with a cup of water and a little fruit, to refreshherself, before she satisfied the inquiries of the knight. She put thecup to her lips, to gratify the benevolence of her host, but heranxious spirit was too much occupied in the concerns dearest to herheart, to feel any wants of the body; and turning to the knight, shebriefly related what had been the design of her father with regard toSir William Wallace; how he had been seized at Bothwell, and sent withhis family a prisoner to Dumbarton Castle.

  "Proceed then thither," continued she. "If Heaven have yet spared thelives of Wallace and my cousin, Andrew Murray, you will meet thembefore its walls. Meanwhile I shall seek the protection of my father'ssister, and in her castle near the Forth abide in safety. But, noblestranger, one bond I must lay upon you; should you come up with mycousin, do not discover that you have met with me. He is precipitatein resentment; and his hatred is so hot against Soulis, my betrayer,that should he know the outrage I have sustained he would, I fear, runhimself and the general cause into danger by seeking an immediaterevenge."

  The stranger readily passed his word to Helen that he would nevermention her name to any of her family until she herself should give himleave. "But when your father is restored to his rights," continued he,"in his presence I hope to claim my acquaintance with his admirabledaughter."

  Helen blushed at this compliment--it was not more than any man in hissituation might have said, but it confused her; and hardly knowing whatwere her thoughts, she answered-"His personal freedom may be effected,and God grant such a regard to your prowess! But his other rights,what can recover them? His estates sequestrated, his vassals in bonds,all power of the Earl of Mar will be annihilated; and from some obscurerefuge like this, must he utter his thanks to his daughter's preserver."

  "Not so, lady," replied he; "the sword is now raised in Scotland, thatcannot be laid down till it be broken or has conquered. All havesuffered by Edward; the powerful banished into other countries, thattheir wealth might reward foreign mercenaries; the poor driven into thewaste, that the meanest Southron might share the spoil! Where all havesuffered, all must be ready to avenge; and when a whole people take up
arms to regain their rights, what force can prevent restitution? Godis with them!"

  "So I felt," returned Helen, "while I have not yet seen the horrors ofthe contest. While my father commanded in Bothwell Castle, and wassending out auxiliaries to the patriot chief, I too felt nothing butthe inspiration which led them on, and saw nothing but the victorywhich must crown so just a cause. But now, when all whom my fathercommanded are slain or carried away by the enemy, when he is himself aprisoner, and awaiting the sentence of the tyrant he opposed, when thegallant Wallace, instead of being able to hasten to his rescue, isbesieged by a numberless host, hope almost dies within me, and I fearthat whoever may be fated to free Scotland, my beloved father, andthose belonging to him are first to be made a sacrifice."

  She turned pale as she spoke, and the stranger resumed. "No, lady, ifthere be that virtue in Scotland which can alone deserve freedom, itwill be achieved. I am an inconsiderable man, but relying on the Godof Justice, I promise you your father's liberty; and let his freedom bea pledge to you for that of your country. I now go to rouse a fewbrave spirits to arms. Remember the battle is not to the strong, norvictory with a multitude of hosts! The banner** of St. Andrew was onceheld from the heavens, over a little band of Scots, while theydiscomfited a thousand enemies--the same arm leads me on; and, if needbe, I despair not to see it again, like the flaming pillar before theIsraelites, consuming the enemies of liberty, even in the fullness oftheir might."

  **At a time when Achaius King of Scotts, and Hungus King of Picts, werefiercely driven by Athelstan King of Northumberland into East Lothian,full of terrors of what the next morning might bring forth, Hungus fellinto a sleep, and beheld a vision, which, tradition tells, was verifiedthe ensuing day by the appearance of the cross of St. Andrew held outto him from the heavens, and waving him to victory. Under this bannerhe conquered the Northumberland forces, and slaying their leader, thescene of the battle has henceforth been called Atheistanford.-(1809.)

  While he yet spoke, the hermit re-entered from the inner cell,supporting a youth on his arm. At sight of the knight, who held outhis hand to him, he dropped on his knees and burst into tears. "Do youthen leave me?" cried he; "am I not to serve my preserver?"

  Helen rose in strange surprise; there was something in the feelings ofthe boy that was infectious; and while her own heart beat violently,she looked first on his emaciated figure, and then at the noble contourof the knight, "where every god had seemed to set his seal." Hisbeaming eyes appeared the very fountains of consolation; his cheek wasbright with generous emotions; and turning from the supplant boy toHelen. "Rise," said he to the youth, "and behold in this lady theobject of the service to which I appoint you. You will soon, I hope,be sufficiently recovered to attend upon her wishes as you would uponmine. Be her servant and her guard; and when we meet again, as shewill then be under the protection of her father, if you do not preferso gentle a service before the rougher one of war, I will resume you tomyself."

  The youth, who had obeyed the knight and risen, bowed respectfully; andHelen, uttering some incoherent words of thanks, to hide her agitationturned away. The hermit exclaimed, "Again, my son, I beseech Heaven tobless thee!"

  "And may its guardian care shield all here!" replied the knight. Helenlooked up to bid him a last farewell--but he was gone. The hermit hadleft the cell with him, and the youth also had disappeared into theinner cave. Being left alone, she threw herself down before the altar,and giving way to a burst of tears, inwardly implored protection forthat brave knight's life; and by his means to grant safety to Wallace,and freedom to her father!

  As she prayed, her emotion subsided and a holy confidence elevating hermind, she remained in an ecstasy of hope, till a solemn voice frombehind her called her from this happy trance.

  "Blessed are they which put their trust in God!"

  She calmly rose, and perceived the hermit; who, on entering, hadobserved her devout position, and the spontaneous benediction brokefrom his lips. "Daughter," said he, leading her to a seat, "this herowill prevail; for the Power before whose altar you have just knelt, hasdeclared, 'My might is with them who obey my laws, and put their trustin me!' You speak highly of the young and valiant Sir William Wallace,but I cannot conceive that he can be better formed for great and heroicdeeds than this chief. Suppose them, then, to be equal, when they havemet, with two such leaders, what may not a few determined Scotsperform?"

  Helen sympathized with the cheering prognostications of the hermit; andwishing to learn the name of this rival of a character she had regardedas unparalleled, she asked, with a blush, by what title she must callthe knight who had undertaken so hazardous an enterprise for her.