The Scottish Chiefs Part 55

"I take you at your word, brave prince!" replied the regent; "and this night shall give you an opportunity to redeem to Scotland, what your father's sword has this day wrested from her. What I mean to do must be effected in the course of a few hours. That done, it will be prudent for you to return to the Carrick camp; and there take the most effectual means to persuade your father to throw himself at once into the arms of Scotland. The whole nation will then rally round their king; and as his weapon of war, I shall rejoice to fulfill the commission with which G.o.d has intrusted me!" He then briefly unfolded to the eagerly listening Bruce (whose aspiring spirit, inflamed by the fervor of youth, and winged by natural courage, saw the glory alone of the enterprise), an attack which he meant to make on the camp of Edward, while his victorious troops slept in fancied security.

He had sent Sir John Graham to Stirling, to call out its garrison; Ker he had dispatched on a similar errand; and expecting that by this time some of the troops would be arrived on the southern extremity of the ca.r.s.e, he threw his plaid over the prince's splendid garb to conceal him from notice; then returning to the few who lay on the northern bank of the river, he asked one of the young Gordons to lend him his armor, saying he had use for it, and to seek another suit in the heap that had been collected from the buried dead. The brave Scot cheerfully acquiesced; and, Wallace retiring amongst the trees with his royal companion, Bruce soon covered his gay hacqueton with this rough mail; and placing the Scottish bonnet on his head, put a large stone into the golden helmet, and sunk it in the waters of the Carron. Being thus completely armed like one of the youthful clansmen in the ranks (and such disguise was necessary), Wallace put the trusty claymore of his country into its prince's hand; and clasping him with a hero's warmth to his heart--

"Now it is," cried he, "that William Wallace lives anew since he has seen this hour!"

On re-emerging from the wood, they met Sir John Graham, who had just arrived with five hundred fugitives from Lord Bute's slaughtered division, whom he had rallied on the ca.r.s.e. He informed his friend that the Earl of Mar was within half a mile of the Carron, with three thousand more; and, that he would soon be joined by other re-enforcements to a similar amount. While Graham yet spoke, a squadron of armed men approached from the Forth side. Wallace, advancing toward them, beheld the Bishop of Dunkeld, in his sacerdotal robes, at their head, but with a corselet on his breast, and instead of his crosier he carried a drawn sword. "We come to you, champion of Scotland," cried the prelate, "with the prayers and the arms of the church. The sword of the Levites of old smote the enemies of Israel; and in the same faith, that the G.o.d of Justice will go before us this night, we come to fight for Scotland's liberties."

His followers were the younger brethren of the monastery of Cambus-Kenneth, and others from the neighboring convents, altogether making a stout and well-appointed legion.

"With this handful," cried Wallace, "Heaven may find a David, who shall yet strike yon Goliath on the forehead!"

Lord Mar and Lord Lennox now came up; and Wallace, marshaling his train, found that he had nearly ten thousand men. He gave to each leader his plan of attack; and having placed Bruce with Graham in the van, before he took his station at its head, he retired to the ruins near Dunipacis, to visit the mourning solitude of Murray. He found the pious son sitting silent and motionless by the side of his dead parent.

Without rousing the violence of grief by any reference to the sight before him, Wallace briefly communicated his project. Lord Andrew started to his feet. "I will share all the peril with you! I shall again grapple with the foe that has thus bereaved me! This dark mantle," cried he, turning toward the breathless corpse, and throwing his plaid over it, "will shroud thy hallowed remains till I return. I go where thou wouldst direct me. Oh, my father!" exclaimed he, in a burst of grief, "the trumpet shall sound, and thou wilt not hear! But I go to take vengeance for thy blood!" So saying, he sprung from the place, and accompanying Wallace to the plain, took his station in the silent but swiftly moving army.

Chapter LIV.

Carron Banks.

The troops of King Edward lay overpowered with wine. Elated with victory, they had drunk largely, the royal pavilion setting them the example; for though Edward was temperate, yet, to flatter his recovered friends, the inordinate Buchan and Soulis, he had allowed a greater excess that night than he was accustomed to sanction. The banquet over, every knight retired to his tent; every soldier to his pallet; and a deep sleep lay upon every man. The king himself, whose many thoughts had long kept him waking, now fell into a slumber.

Guards had been placed around the camp more from military ceremony than an idea of their necessity. The strength of Wallace they believed broken; and that they should have nothing to do next morning but to chase him into Stirling, and take him there. But the spirit of the regent was not so easily subdued. He ever thought it shameful to despair while it was possible to make a stand. And now, leading his determined followers through the lower grounds of c.u.mbernaul, he detached half his force under Mar, to take the Southron camp in the rear, while he should attack the front, and pierce his way to the royal pavilion.

With soundless caution, the battalion of Mar wound round the banks of the Forth to reach the point of its destination; and Wallace, proceeding with as noiseless a step, gained the hill which overlooked his sleeping enemies. His front ranks, shrouded by branches they had torn from the trees in Tor Wood, now stood still. Without this precaution, had any eye looked from the Southron line they must have been perceived; but now should a hundred gaze on them, their figures were so blended with the adjoining thickets, they might easily be mistaken for a part of them. As the moon sunk in the horizon they moved gently down the hill; and scarcely drawing breath, were within a few paces of the first outpost, when one of the sentinels starting from his reclining position, suddenly exclaimed, "What sound is that?"

"Only the wind amongst the trees," returned his comrade; "I see their branches waving. Let me sleep; for Wallace yet lives, and we may have hot work to-morrow." Wallace did live, and the man slept--to wake no more; for the next instant a Scottish brand was through every Southron heart on the outpost. That done, Wallace threw away his bough, leaped the narrow dike which lay in front of the camp; and with Bruce and Graham at the head of a chosen band of brave men, cautiously proceeded onward to reach the pavilion. At the moment he should blow his bugle, the divisions he had left with Lennox and Murray, and the Lord Mar, were to press forward to the same point.

Still all lay in profound repose, and guided by the lamps which burned around the royal quarters, the dauntless Scots reached the tent.

Wallace had already laid his hand upon the curtain that was its entrance, when an armed man with a presented pike, demanded, "Who comes here?" the regent's answer laid the interrogator's head at his feet; but the voice had awakened the ever watchful king. Perceiving his own danger in the fall of the sentinel, he s.n.a.t.c.hed his sword, and calling aloud on his sleeping train, sprung from his couch. He was immediately surrounded by half a score of knights, who started on their feet before Wallace could reach the spot. Short, however, would have been their protection; they fell before his arm and that of Graham, and left a vacant place, for Edward had disappeared. Foreseeing from the first prowess of these midnight invaders, the fate of his guards, he had made a timely escape, by cutting a pa.s.sage for himself through the canvas of his tent. Wallace perceived that his prize had eluded his grasp, but hoping to at least drive him from the field, he blew the appointed signal to Mar and Lennox; caught one of the lamps from the monarch's table and setting fire to the adjoining drapery, rushed from its blazing volumes to meet his brave colleagues amongst the disordered lines. Graham and his followers with firebrands in their hands, threw conflagration into all parts of the camp, and with the fearful war-cries of their country, seemed to a.s.sail the terrified enemy from every direction. Men half-dressed and unarmed, rushed from their tents upon the pikes of their enemies; hundreds fell without striking a blow, and they who were stationed nearest the outposts, betook themselves to flight, scattering themselves in scared throngs over the amazed plains of Linlithgow.

The king in vain sought to rally his men--to remind them of their late victory. His English alone hearkened to his call; superst.i.tion had laid her petrifying hand on all the rest. The Irish saw a terrible judgment in this scene; believing it had fallen upon them for having taken arms against their sister people; the Welsh, as they descried the warlike Bishop of Dunkeld issuing from the mists of the river, and charging his foaming steed through their flying defiles, could not persuade themselves that Merlin had not arisen to chastise their obedience to the ravager of their country. Every superst.i.tion, every panic created by fear took possession of the half-intoxicated, stupid wretches; and falling in b.l.o.o.d.y and unresisting heaps all around, it was rather a slaughter than a battle. Opposition seemed everywhere abandoned, excepting on the spot still maintained by the King of England and his brave countrymen. The faithless Scots who had followed the c.u.mmins to the field also stood there and fought with desperation.

Wallace opposed the despair and valor of his adversaries with the steadiness of his men; and Graham having seized some of the war-engines, discharged a shower of blazing arrows upon the Southron phalanx.

The camp was now on fire in every direction; and putting all to the hazard of one decisive blow, Edward ordered his men to make at once to the point, where, by the light of the flaming tents, he could perceive the waving plumes of Wallace. With his ponderous mace held terribly in the air, the king himself bore down to the shock; and breaking through the intervening combatants a.s.saulted the chief. The might of ten thousand souls was then in the arm of the Regent of Scotland. The puissant Edward wondered at himself as he shrunk from before his strokes; as he shuddered at the heroic fierceness of a countenance which seemed more than mortal. Was it indeed the Scottish chieftain?

or some armed delegate from heaven, descended to flight the battles of the oppressed? Edward trembled; his mace was struck from his hand; but immediately a glittering falchon supplied its place, and with recovering presence of mind he renewed the combat.

Meanwhile the young Bruce (who, in his humble armor, might have been pa.s.sed by as an enemy for meaner swords), checking the onward speed of March, pierced him at once through the heart: "Die, thou disgrace to the name of Scot," cried he, "and with thy blood expunge my stains!"

His sword now laid all opposition at his feet; and while the tempest of death blew around, the groans of the dying, the shrieks of the wounded, and the outcries of those who were peris.h.i.+ng in the flames, drove the king's ranks to distraction, and raised so great a fear in the minds of the c.u.mmin clan, that, breaking from the royal line with yells of dismay, they fled in all directions after their already fugitive allies.

Edward saw the Earl of March fall, and finding himself wounded in many places, with a backward step he received the blows of Wallace; but that determined chief, following his advantage, made a stroke at the king which threw him astounded into the arms of his followers. At that moment Lincoln raised his arm to strike his dagger into the back of Wallace; but Graham arrested the blow, and sent the young lord's motionless body to the earth. The Southron ranks closed immediately before their insensible monarch; and a contest more desperate than any which had preceded it, took place. Hosts seemed to fall on both sides; at last the Southrons (having stood their ground till Edward was carried from further danger) suddenly wheeled about and fled precipitately toward the east. Wallace pursued them on full charge; driving them across the lowlands of Linlithgow, where he learned from some prisoners he took, that the Earl of Carrick was in the Lothians; having retreated hither on the first tidings that the Scots had attacked the English camp.

"Now is your time," said Wallace to Bruce, "to rejoin your father.

Bring him to Scotland, where a free crown awaits him. Your actions of this night must be a pledge to your country of the virtues which will support his throne!"

The young warrior, throwing off his rugged hauberk in a retired glen, appeared again as a prince, and embracing the regent:

"A messenger from myself or from my father," said he, "shall meet you at Stirling; meanwhile, farewell!--and give my thanks to the young Gordon whose sword armed me for Scotland!"

Bruce mounted the horse Wallace had prepared, and spurring along the banks of the Almond, was soon lost amidst its luxuriant shades.

Wallace still led the pursuit of Edward, and meeting those auxiliaries from the adjoining counties, which his provident orders had prepared to turn out on the first appearance of this martial chase; he poured his troops through Ettrick Forest, and drove the flying host of England far into Northumberland. There checking his triumphant squadrons, he recalled his stragglers, and returned with abated speed into his own country. Halting on the north bank of the Twee, he sent to their quarters those hands which belonged to the border castles, and then marched leisurely forward, that his brave soldiers, who had sustained the weight of the battle, might recover their exhausted strength.

At Peebles he was agreeably surprised by the sight of Edwin. Though ignorant of the recommenced hostilities of Edward, Lord Ruthven became so impatient to resume his duties, that as soon as he was able to move, he had set off on his return to Perth. On arriving at Huntingtower he was told of the treachery of March, also of his fate, and that the regent had beaten the enemy on the banks of the Carron, and was pursuing him into his own dominions. Ruthven was inadequate to the exertion of following the successful troops, but Edwin, rejoicing at this new victory, would not be detained, and crossing the Forth into Mid-Lothian, had sped his eager way until the happy moment that brought him again to the side of his first and dearest friend.

As they continued their route together, Edwin inquired the events of the past time, and heard them related with wonder, horror, and grat.i.tude. Grateful for the preservation of Wallace, grateful for the rescue of his country from the menaced destruction, for some time he could only clasp his friend's hand with strong emotion to his heart.

The death of his uncle Bothwell made that heart tremble within him at the thought of how much severer might have been his deprivation; at last, extricating his powers of speech from the spell of contradictory feelings which enchained them, he said, "But if my uncle Mar and our brave Graham were in the last conflict, where are they, that I do not see them share your victory?"

"I hope," returned Wallace, "that we shall rejoin them in safety at Stirling. Our troops parted in the pursuit, and after having sent back the Lowland chieftains, you see I have none with me now but my own particular followers."

The regent's expectations that he should soon fall in with some of the chasing squadrons, were the next morning gratified. Crossing the Bathgate Hills, he met the returning battalions of Lennox, with Lord Mar's, and also Sir John Graham's. Lord Lennox was thanked by Wallace for his good services, and immediately dispatched to reoccupy his station in Dumbarton. But the captains of Mar and of Graham, could give no other account of their leaders, than that they saw them last fighting valiantly in the Southron camp, and had since supposed that during the pursuit they must have joined the regent's squadron. A cold dew fell over the limbs of Wallace at these tidings; he looked on Murray and on Edwin. The expression of the former's face told him what were his fears; but Edwin, ever sanguine, strove to encourage the hope that all might yet be well: "They may not have yet returned from the pursuit; or they may be gone on to Stirling."

But these comfortings were soon dispelled by the appearance of Lord Ruthven, who (having been apprised of the regent's approach) came forth to meet him. The pleasure of seeing the earl so far recovered as to have been able to leave Huntingtower, was checked by the first glance of his face, on which was deeply characterized some tale of grief.

Edwin thought it was the recent disasters of Scotland he mourned; and with a cheering voice he exclaimed, "Courage, my father! our regent comes again a conqueror! Edward has once more recrossed the plains of Northumberland!"

"Thanks be to G.o.d for that!" replied Ruthven! "but what have not these last conflicts cost the country! Lord Mar is wounded unto death, and lies in a chamber next to the yet unburied corpses of Lord Bute and the dauntless Graham." Wallace turned deadly pale; a mist pa.s.sed over his eyes, and staggering, he breathlessly supported himself on the arm of Edwin. Murray looked on him; but all was still in his heart: his own beloved father had fallen; and in that stroke Fate seemed to have emptied all her quiver.

"Lead me to their chambers!" cried Wallace; "show me where my friends lie; let me hear the last prayer for Scotland from the lips of the bravest of her veterans!"

Ruthven turned the head of his horse; and, as he rode along, he informed the regent that Edwin had not left Huntingtower for the Forth half an hour when an express arrived from Falkirk. By it he learned that, as soon as the inhabitants of Stirling saw the fire of the Southron camp, they had hastened thither to enjoy the spectacle. Some, bolder than the rest, entered its deserted confines (for the retreating squadrons were then flying over the plain); and amidst the slaughtered, near the royal tent, one of these visitors thought he distinguished groans. Whether friend or foe, he stooped to render a.s.sistance to the sufferer, and soon found it to be Lord Mar. The earl begged to be carried to some shelter that he might see his wife and daughter before he died. The people drew him out from under his horse and many a mangled corpse; and, wrapping him in their plaids, conveyed him to Falkirk, where they lodged him in the convent.

"A messenger was instantly dispatched to me," continued Ruthven; "and, indifferent to all personal considerations, I set out immediately. I saw my dying brother-in-law. At his request, that others might not suffer what he had endured under the pressure of the slain, the field had been sought for the wounded. Many were conveyed into the neighboring houses, while the dead were consigned to the earth. Deep have been dug the graves of mingled Scot and English on the banks of the Carron! Many of our fallen n.o.bles, amongst whom was the princely Badenoch, have been conveyed to the cemetery of their ancestors; others are entombed in the church of Falkirk; but the bodies of Sir John Graham and my brother Bothwell," said he, in a lower tone, "I have retained till your return."

"You have done right," replied the till then, silent Wallace; and spurring forward, he saw not the ground he trod, till, ascending the hill of Falkirk, the venerable walls of its monastery presented themselves to his view. He threw himself off his horse and entered, preceded by Lord Ruthven.

He stopped before the cell which contained the dying chief, and desired the abbot to apprise the earl of his arrival. The sound of that voice, whose heart-consoling tones could be matched by none on earth, penetrated to the ear of his almost insensible friend. Mar started from his pillow, and Wallace through the half-open door heard him say: "Let him come in, Joanna! All my mortal hopes now hang on him."

Wallace instantly stepped forward, and beheld the veteran stretched on a couch, the image of that death to which he was so rapidly approaching. He hastened toward him; and the dying man, stretching forth his arms exclaimed: "Come to me, Wallace, my son, the only hope of Scotland, the only human trust of this anxious paternal heart!"

Wallace threw himself on his knees beside him, and taking his hand, pressed it in speechless anguish to his lips; every present grief was then weighing on his soul, and denied him the power of utterance. Lady Mar sat by the pillow of her husband, but she bore no marks of the sorrow which convulsed the frame of Wallace. She looked serious, but her cheek wore its freshest bloom. She spoke not, and the veteran allowed the tears of enfeebled nature to fall on the bent head of his friend. "Mourn not for me," cried he, "nor think that these are regretful drops. I die as I have wished, in the field for Scotland.

Time must have soon laid my gray hair ign.o.bly in the grave; and to enter it thus covered with honorable wounds, in glory, has long been my prayer. But, dearest, most unwearied of friends, still the tears of mortality will flow; for I leave my children fatherless in this faithless world. And my Helen! Oh, Wallace, the angel who exposed her precious self through the dangers of that midnight walk to save Scotland, her father, and his friends, is--lost to us! Joanna, tell the rest," said he, gasping, "for I cannot."

Wallace turned to Lady Mar with an inquiring look of such wild horror that she found her tongue cleave to the roof of her mouth, and her complexion faded into the pallidness of his.

"Surely," exclaimed he, "there is not to be a wreck of all that is estimable on earth. The Lady Helen is not dead?"

"No," rejoined the earl; "but-"

He could proceed no further, and Lady Mar forced herself to speak.

"She has fallen into the hands of the enemy. On my lord's being brought to this place, he sent for myself and Lady Helen; but in pa.s.sing by Dunipacis, an armed squadron issued from behind the mound, and putting our attendants to flight, carried her off. I escaped hither. The reason for this attack was explained afterward by one of the Southrons, who, having been wounded by our escort, was taken, and brought to Falkirk. He said that Lord Aymer de Valence, having been sent by his beset monarch to call Lord Carrick to his a.s.sistance, found the Bruce's camp deserted; but by accident learning that Lady Helen Mar was to be brought to Falkirk, he stationed himself behind Dunipacis; and springing out as soon as our cavalcade was in view, seized her.

She obtained, the rest were allowed to escape, but as the Lord de Valence loves Helen, I cannot doubt he will have sufficient honor not to insult the fame of her family, and so will make her his wife."

"G.o.d forbid!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Mar, holding up his trembling hands; "G.o.d forbid that my blood should ever mingle with that of any one of the people who have wrought such woe to Scotland! Swear to me, valiant Wallace, by the virtues of her virgin heart, by your own immaculate honor, that you will move heaven and earth to rescue my Helen from the power of his Southron lord!"

"So help me Heaven!" answered Wallace, looking steadfastly upward. A groan burst from the lips of Lady Mar, and her head sunk on the side of the couch.