Chapter LVII.
Durham.
The sun rose as the funeral procession of the Earl of Mar moved frombefore the gates of the monastery at Falkirk. Lord Ruthven and Edwinmounted their horses. The maids of the two ladies led them forthtoward the litters which were to convey them so long a journey. LadyRuthven came first, and Wallace placed her tenderly in her carriage.The countess next appeared, clad in the deep weeds of widowhood. Herchild followed in the arms of its nurse. At the sight of the innocentbabe, whom he had so often seen pressed to the fond bosom of the fatherit was now following to his grace, tears rushed into the eyes ofWallace. Lady Mar hid the tumult of her feelings on the shoulder ofher maid. He advanced to her respectfully, and handing her to hervehicle, urged her to cherish life for the sake of her child. Shethrew herself with increased agitation on her pillow, and Wallace,deeming the presence of her babe the surest comforter, laid it tenderlyby her side. At that moment, before he had relinquished it, she benther face upon his hands, and bathing them with tears, faintly murmured,"Oh! Wallace, remember me!" Lord Ruthven rode up to bid adieu to hisfriend, and the litters moved on. Wallace promised that both he andEdwin should hear of him in the course of a few days; andaffectionately grasping the hand of the latter, bade him farewell.
Hear of him they should, but not see him; for it was his determinationto set off that night for Durham, where, he was informed, Edward nowlay, and, joined by his young queen, meant to sojourn till his woundswere healed. Believing that his presence in Scotland could no longerbe serviceable, and would engender continual intestine divisions,Wallace did not hesitate in fixing his course. His first object was tofulfill his vow to Lord Mar. He thought it probable, that Helen mighthave been carried to the English court; and that in seeking her, hemight also attempt an interview with young Bruce; hoping to learn howfar he had succeeded in persuading his father to leave the vassalage ofEdward, and once more dare resuming the specter of his ancestors.
To effect his plan without hinderance, on the disappearance of thefuneral cavalcade, Wallace retired to his apartment to address a letterto Lord Ruthven. In this epistle he told the chief that he was goingon an expedition which he hoped would prove beneficial to his country;but it was an enterprise of rashness, he would not make any one hiscompanion; he therefore begged Lord Ruthven to teach his friends toconsider with candor a flight they might otherwise deem unkind.
All the brother was in his letter to Edwin, conjuring him to prove hisaffection for his friend by quietly abiding at home till they shouldmeet again in Scotland.
He wrote to Andrew Murray (now Lord Bothwell), addressing him as thefirst of his compatriots who had struck a blow for Scotland; and, ashis dear friend and brother soldier, he confided to his care thevaliant troop which had followed him from Lanark. "Tell them," saidhe, "that in obeying you they still serve with me, they perform theirduty to Scotland at home--I abroad; our aim is the same; and we shallmeet again at the consummation of our labors."
These letters he inclosed in one to Scrymgeour, with orders to dispatchtwo of them according to their directions; but that to Murray,Scrymgeour was himself to deliver at the head of the Lanark veterans.
At the approach of twilight Wallace quitted the monastery, leaving hispacket with the porter, to present to Scrymgeour when he should arriveat his usual hour. As the chief meant to assume a border-minstrel'sgarb, that he might travel the country unrecognized as its once adoredregent, he took his way toward a large hollow oak in Tor Wood, where hehad deposited his means of disguise. When arrive there he disarmedhimself of all but his sword, dirk, and breastplate; he covered histartan gambeson with a minstrel's cassock, and staining his brightcomplexion with the juice of a nut, concealed his brighter locksbeneath a close bonnet. Being thus equipped, he threw his harp over hisshoulder; and having first, in that solitude, where no eye beheld, noear heard but that of God, invoked a blessing on his enterprise, with abuoyant spirit--rejoicing in the power in whose light he moved--he wentforth, and under the sweet serenity of a summer night pursued his wayalong the broom-clad hills of Muiravenside.
All lay in profound rest--not a human creature crossed his path till thecarol of the lark summoned the husbandman to his toil, and spread thethymy hills and daisied pastures with herds and flocks. As the lowingof cattle descending to the water, and the bleating of sheep, hailingthe morning beam, came on the breeze, mingled with the joyous voices oftheir herdsmen, calling to each other from afar--as all met the ear ofWallace--his conscious heart could not but whisper: "I have been thehappy instrument to effect this! I have restored every man to hispaternal fields! I have filled all these honest breasts with gladness!"
He stopped at a little moss-covered cabin on the burn-side, beneathCraig Castle in Mid-Lothian, and was hospitably entertained by itssimple inhabitants. Wallace repaid their kindness with a few ballads,which he sung accompanied by his harp. As he gave the last notes of"King Arthur's Death in Glory," the worthy cotter raised his head fromthe spade on which he leaned, and asked whether he could not sing theglory of Scotland.
"Our renowned Wallace," said he, "is worth King Arthur and all thestranger knights of his round table, for he not only conquers for us inwar, but establishes us in happy peace. Who like him, of all our greatcaptains, ever took such care of the poor as to give them, not only thebread which sustains temporal, but that which supports eternal life?Sing us then his praises, minstrel, and tarry with us days instead ofhours."
The wife, and the children who clung around their melodious visitant,joined in this request. Wallace rose with a saddened smile, andreplied:
"I cannot do what you require; but I can yield you an opportunity tooblige Sir William Wallace. Will you take a letter from him, of whichI am the bearer, to Lord Dundaf at Berwick? I have been seeking, whatI have now found, a faithful Scot, with whom I could confide thistrust. It is to reveal to a father's heart the death of a son, forwhom Scotland must mourn to her latest generations."
The honest shepherd respectfully accepted this mission; and his wife,loading her guest's scrip with her choicest fruits and cakes,accompanied him, followed by the children, to the bottom of the hill.
In this manner, sitting at the board of the lowly, and sleeping beneaththe thatched roof, did Wallace pursue his way through Tweedale andEttrick Forest, till he reached the Cheviots. From every lip he heardhis own praises, heard them with redoubled satisfaction, for he couldhave no suspicion of their sincerity, as they were uttered withoutexpectation of their ever reaching the regent's ear.
It was the Sabbath day when he mounted the Cheviots. He stood on oneof their summits, and leaning on his harp, contemplated the fertiledales he left behind. The gay villagers, in their best attires, werethronging to their churches; while the aged, too infirm for the walk,were sitting in the sun at their cottage doors, adoring the AlmightyBenefactor in his sublimer temple of the universe. All spoke ofsecurity and happiness. "Thus I leave thee, beloved Scotland! And onrevisiting these hills, may I still behold thy sons and daughtersrejoicing in the heaven-bestowed peace of their land!"
Having descended into Northumberland, his well-replenished script washis provider; and when it was exhausted, he purchased food from thepeasantry; he would not accept the hospitality of a country he had solately trodden as an enemy. Here he heard his name mentioned withterror as well as admiration. While many related circumstances ofmisery to which the ravaging of their lands had reduced them, allconcurred in praising the moderation with which the Scottish leadertreated his conquests.
Late in the evening, he arrived on the banks of the river thatsurrounds the episcopal city of Durham. He crossed FramlinggateBridge. His mistrel garb prevented his being stopped by the guard atthe gate; but as he entered its porch, a horse that was going throughstarted at his abrupt appearance. Its rider suddenly exclaimed, "Fool,thou dost not see Sir William Wallace!" Then turning to the disguisedknight, "Harper," cried he, "you frighten my steed; draw back till Ipass." Not displeased to find the te
rror him so great amongst theenemies of Scotland, that they even addressed their animals as sharersin the dread, Wallace stood out of the way, and saw the speaker to be ayoung Southron knight, who with difficulty kept his seat on the restivehorse. Rearing and plunging, it would have thrown its rider, had notWallace put forth his hand and seized the bridle. By his assistance,the animal was soothed; and the young lord thanking him for hisservice, told him that, as a reward, he would introduce him to playbefore the queen, who that day held a feast at the bishop's palace.Wallace thought it probable he might see or hear of Lady Helen in thisassembly, or find access to Bruce, and he gladly accepted the offer.The knight, who was Sir Piers Gaveston, ordering him to follow, turnedhis horse toward the city, and conducted Wallace through the gates ofthe citadel, to the palace within its walls.
On entering the banqueting-hall, he was placed by the knight in themusicians' gallery, there to await his summons to her majesty. Thisentertainment being spread, and the room full of guests, the queen wasled in by the haughty bishop of the see, the king being too ill of hiswounds to allow his joining so large a company. The beauty of thelovely sister of Philip le Bel seemed to fill the gaze and hearts ofall bystanders, and none appeared to remember that Edward was absent.Wallace hardly glanced on her youthful charms; his eyes roamed fromside to side in quest of a fairer, a dearer object--the captivedaughter of his dead friend! She was not there; neither was DeValence; but Buchan, Athol, and Soulis, were near the royal Margaret;in all the pomp of feudal grandeur. In vain waived the trophiedbanners over their heads; they sat sullen and revengeful, for thedefeat on the Carron had obscured the treacherous victory of Falkirk;and instead of having presented Edward to his young queen as theconqueror of Scotland; she had found him, and them fugitives in thecastle of Durham!
Immediately on the royal band ceasing to play, Gaveston pressed towardthe queen, and told her he had presumed to introduce a travelingminstrel into the gallery; hoping that she would order him to performfor her amusement, as he could sing legends from the descent of theRomans to the victories of her royal Edward. With all her age'seagerness in quest of novelties, she commanded him to be brought to her.
Gaveston having presented him, Wallace bowed with the respect due toher sex and dignity, and to the esteem in which he held the characterof her royal brother. Margaret desired him to place his harp beforeher, and begin to sing. As he knelt on one knee, and struck itssounding chords, she stopped him by the inquiry, of whence he came?
"From the north country," was his reply.
"Were you ever in Scotland?" asked she.
"Many times."
The young lords crowded round to hear this dialogue between majesty andlowliness. She smiled, and turned toward them.
"Do not accuse me of disloyalty, but I have a curiosity to ask anotherquestion."
"Nothing your majesty wishes to know," said Bishop Beck, "can be amiss."
"Then tell me," cried she--"for you wandering minstrels see all greatpeople, good or bad, else how could you make songs about them!--did youever see Sir William Wallace in your travels?"
"Often, madam."
"Pray tell me what he is like! you probably will be unprejudiced, andthat is what I can hardly expect in this case from any of these bravelords."
Wishing to avoid further questioning on this subject, Wallace replied:
"I have never seen him so distinctly as to be enabled to prove anyright to your majesty's opinion of my judgment."
"Cannot you sing me some ballad about him?" inquired she, laughing;"and if you are a little poetical in your praise, I can excuse you; formy royal brother thinks this bold Scot would have shone brightly in afairer cause."
"My songs are dedicated to glory set in the grave," returned Wallace,"therefore Sir William Wallace's faults or virtues will not be sung byme."
"Then he is a very young man, I suppose? for you are not old, and yetyou speak of not surviving him. I was in hopes," cried she, addressingBeck, "that my lord the king would have brought this Wallace to havesupped with me here; but for once rebellion overcame its master."
Beck made some reply which Wallace did not hear, and the queen againturning to him resumed:
"Minstrel, we French ladies are very fond of a good mien; and I shallbe a little reconciled to your northern realms if you tell me that SirWilliam Wallace is anything like as handsome as some of the gay knightsby whom you see me surrounded."
Wallace smiled, and replied:
"The comeliness of Sir William Wallace lies in a strong arm and afeeling heart; and if these be charms in the eyes of female goodness,he may hope to be not quite an object of abhorrence to the sister ofPhilip le Bel!"
The minstrel bowed as he spoke, and the young queen laughing again,said:
"I wish not to come within the influence of either. But sing me someScottish legend, and I will promise wherever I see the knight to treathim with all courtesy due to valor."
Wallace again struck the chords of his harp; and with a voice whosefull and melodious tones rolled round the vast dome of the hall, hesung the triumphs of Beuther.** The queen fixed her eyes upon him; andwhen he ended, she turned and whispered Gavestton:
"If the voice of this man had been Wallace's trumpet, I should not nowwonder at the discomfiture of England. He almost tempted me from myallegiance, as the warlike animation of his notes seemed to charge theflying Southrons."
**In commemoration of the victory which this ancient Scottish princeobtained over the Britons before the Christian era, the field ofconquest has ever since been called Rutherglen.
Speaking, she rose, and presenting a jeweled ring to the mistrel, leftthe apartment.
The lords crowded out after her, and the musicians coming down from thegallery, seated themselves with much rude jollity to regale on theremnants of the feast. Wallace, who had discovered the senachie ofBrue by the escutcheon of Annandale suspended at his neck, gladly sawhim approach. He came to invite the stranger minstrel to partake oftheir fare. Wallace did not appear to decline it, and as the courtbard seemed rather devoted to the pleasures of wine, he found it notdifficult to draw from him what he wanted to know. He learned thatyoung Bruce was still in the castle under arrest, "and," added thesenachie, "I shall feel no little mortification in being obliged, inthe course of half an hour, to relinquish these festivities for thegloomy duties of his apartment."
This was precisely the point to which Wallace had wished to lead him;and pleading disrelish of wine, he offered to supply his place in theearl's chamber. The half-intoxicated bard accepted the propositionwith eagerness; and as the shades of nigh had long closed in, heconducted his illustrious substitute to the large round tower of thecastle, informing him as they went along, that he must continue playingin a recess adjoining Bruce's room till the last vesper bell from theabbey in the neighborhood should give the signal for his laying asidethe harp. At that time the earl would be fallen asleep, and he mightthen lie down on a pallet he would find in the recess.
All this Wallace promised punctually to obey; and being conducted bythe senachie up a spiral staircase, was left in the little anteroom.The chief drew the cowl of his minstrel cloak over his face and set hisharp before him in order to play. He could see through its stringsthat a group of knights were in earnest conversation at the further endof the apartment; but they spoke so low he could not distinguish whatwas said. One of the party turned round, and the light of a suspendedlamp discovered him to be the brave Earl Gloucester, whom Wallace hadtaken, and released at Berwick. The same ray showed another to bePercy, Earl of Northumberland. Wallace found the strangeness of hissituation. He, the conqueror of Edward, to have been singing as amendicant in his halls; and having given laws to the two great menbefore him, he now sat in their view unobserved and unfeared! Theirfigures concealed that of Bruce, but at last when all rose together, heheard Gloucester say, in rather an elevated voice, "Keep up yourspirits. This envy of your base countrymen must recoil uponthemselves. It cannot be long before King Edward d
iscovers the motivesof their accusations, and his noble nature will acquit you accordingly."
"My acquittal," replied Bruce, in a firm tone, "cannot restore whatEdward's injustice has rifled from me. I abide by the test of my ownactions, and by it will open the door of my freedom. Your king maydepend on it," added he, with a sarcastic smile, "that I am not a manto be influenced against the right. Where I owe duty I will pay it tothe uttermost farthing."
Not apprehending the true meaning of this speech, Percy immediatelyanswered, "I believe you, and so must all that world; for did you notgive brave proofs of it that fearful night on the Carron, in bearingarms against the triumphant Wallace?"
"I did indeed give proofs of it," returned Bruce, "which I hope theworld will one day know, by bearing arms against the usurper of mycountry's rights! and in defiance of injustice and of treason, beforemen and angels I swear," cried he, "to perform my duty to the end--toretrieve, to honor the insulted, the degraded name of Bruce!"
The two earls fell back before the vehement action which accompaniedthis burst from the soul of Bruce; and Wallace caught a glimpse of hisyouthful form, which stood pre-eminent in patriotic virtue between theSouthron lords: his fine countenance glowed, and his brave spiritseemed to emanate in light from every part of his body. "My prince andbrother!" exclaimed Wallace to himself, ready to rush forward and throwhimself at his feet, or into his arms.
Gloucester, as little as Northumberland, comprehending Bruce'sambiguous declaration, replied, "Let not your heart, my brave friend,burn too hotly against the king for this arrest. He will be the moreurgent to obliterate by kindness this injustice when he understands theaims of the Cummins. I have myself felt his misplaced wrath; and whonow is more favored by Edward than Ralph de Monthermer? My case willbe yours. Good night, Bruce. May propitious dreams repeat the auguryof your true friends!" Percy shook hands with the young earl, and thetwo English lords left the room.
Wallace could now take a more leisurely survey of Bruce. He no longerwore gay embroidered hacqueton; his tunic was black velvet, and all therest of his garments accorded with the same mourning hue. Soon afterthe lords had quitted him, the buoyant elasticity of his figure, whichbefore seemed ready to rise from the earth, so was his soul elevated byhis sublime resolves, gave way to melancholy retrospections, and hethrew himself into a chair with his hands clasped upon his knee and hiseyes fixed in musing gaze upon the floor. It was now that Wallacetouched the strings of his harp. "The Death of Cathullin" wailed fromthe sounding notes; but Bruce heard as though he heard them not; theysooth his mood without his perceiving what it was that calmed, yetdeepened, the saddening thoughts which possessed him. His postureremained the same; and sigh after sigh gave the only response to thestrains of the bard.
Wallace grew impatient for the chimes of that vesper bell which, byassuring Bruce's attendants that he was going to rest, would securefrom interruption the conference he meditated. Two servants entered.Bruce, scarcely looking up, bade them withdraw; he should not needtheir attendance; he did not know when he should go to bed; and hedesired to be no further disturbed. The men obeyed; and Wallace,changing the melancholy strain of his harp, struck the chords to theproud triumph he had played in the hall. Not one note of either balladhad he yet sung to Bruce; but when he came to the passage in the latterappropriated to these lines--
"Arise, glory of Albin, from thy cloud, And shine upon thy own!"
he could not forbear giving the words voice. Bruce started from hisseat. He looked toward the minstrel--he walked the room in greatdisorder. The pealing sounds of the harp, and his own mentalconfusion, prevented his distinguishing that it was not the voice ofhis senachie. The words alone he heard; and they seemed a call whichhis heart panted to obey. The hand of Wallace paused upon theinstrument. He looked around to see that observation was indeed at adistance. Not that he dreaded harm to himself, for his magnanimousmind, courageous from infancy, by a natural instinct had never knownpersonal fear; but anxious not to precipitate Bruce into uselessdanger, he first satisfied himself that all was safe, and then, as theyoung earl sat in a paroxysm of racking reflections (for they broughtself-blame, or rather a blame on his father, which pierced him to theheart), Wallace slowly advanced from the recess. The agitated Bruce,accidentally raising his head, beheld a man in a minstrel's garb, muchto tall to be his senachie, approaching him with a caution which hethought portended treachery. He sprung to his feet, and caught hissword from the table; but, in that moment, Wallace threw off his cowl.Bruce stood gazing on him, stiffened with astonishment. Wallace, in alow voice, exclaimed, "My prince! do you not know me?" Bruce, withoutspeaking, threw his arms about his neck. He was silent, as he hung onhim, but his tears flowed; he had much to say, but excess of emotionrendered it unutterable. As Wallace returned the fond embrace offriendship, he gently said, "How is it that I not only see you a closeprisoner, but in these weeds?" Bruce at last forced himself toarticulate: "I have known misery, in all its forms, since we parted;but I have not power to name even my grief of griefs, while tremblingat the peril to which you have exposed yourself by seeking me! Thevanquisher of Edward, the man who snatched Scotland from his grasp,were he known to be within these walls, would be a prize for which theboiling revenge of the tyrant would give half his kingdom! Think,then, my friend, how I shudder at this daring. I am surrounded byspies, and should you be discovered, Robert Bruce will then have thecurses of his country added to the judgments which already have fallenon his head." As he spoke, they sat down together, and he continued:"Before I answer your questions, tell me what immediate cause couldbring you to seek the alien Bruce in prison, and by what stratagem youcame in this disguise into my apartment? Tell me the last, that I mayjudge, by the means, of your present safety!"
Wallace briefly related the events which had sent him from Scotland,his reencounter with Piers Gaveston, and his arrangement with thesenachie. To the first part of the narrative, Bruce listened withindignation. "I knew," exclaimed he, "from the boastings of Athol andBuchan, that they had left in Scotland some dregs of heir ownrefractory spirits; but I could not have guessed that envy had soobliterated gratitude in the hearts of my countrymen. The wolves havenow driven the shepherd from the fold," cried he, "and the flock willsoon be devoured! Fatal was the hour for Scotland, and your friend,when you yielded to the voice of faction, and relinquished the powerwhich would have finally given peace to the nation!"
Wallace recapitulated his reasons for having refrained from forcing theobedience of the young Lord Badenoch and his adherents; for abdicatinga dignity he could no longer maintain without shedding the blood of themisguided men who opposed him. Bruce acknowledged the wisdom of thisconduct, but could not restrain his animadversions on the characters ofthe Cummins. He told Wallace that he had met the two sons of the lateLord Badenoch in Guienne; that James, who now pretended such resentmentof his father's death, had ever been a rebellious son. John, who yetremained in France, appeared of a less violent temper; "but," added theprince, "I have been taught by one who will never counsel me more, thatall the Cummins, male and female, would be ready at any time tosacrifice earth and heaven to their ambition. It is to Buchan andAthol that I owe my prolonged confinement, and to them I may date thepremature death of my father."
The start of Wallace declared his shock at this information. "How?"exclaimed he, "The Earl of Carrick dead? Fell, fell assassins of theircountry!" The swelling emotions of his soul would not allow him toproceed, and Bruce resumed: "It is for him I wear these sablegarments--poor emblems of the mournings of my soul, mournings, not somuch for his loss (and that is grievous as ever son bore), but becausehe lived not to let the world know what he really was; he lived not tobring into light his long-obscured honor! There, there, Wallace, isthe bitterness of this cup to me!"
"But can you not sweeten it, my dear prince," cried Wallace, "byretrieving all that he was cut off from redeeming? To open the way toyou I come."
"And I will enter where you poi
nt," returned Bruce; "but heavy is mywoe that, knowing the same spirit was in my father's bosom, he shouldbe torn from the opportunity to make it manifest. Oh, Wallace! that heshould be made to lie down in a dishonored grave! Had he lived, myfriend, he would have brightened that name which rumor has sullied, andI should have doubly gloried in wearing the name he had rendered soworthy of being coupled with the kingly title. Noble was he in soul;but he fell amidst a race of men whose art was equal to their venality,and he became their dupe. Betrayed by friendship, he sunk into thesnare; for he had no dishonor in his own breast to warn him of whatmight be the villainy of others. He believed the cajoling speeches ofEdward, who, on the first offense of Baliol, had promised to place myfather on the throne. Month after month passed away, and theengagement was unperformed. The disturbance on the Continent seemed tohis confiding nature a sufficient excuse for these various delays; andhe waited in quiet expectation till your name, my friend, rose gloriousin Scotland. My father and myself were then in Guienne; Edwardpersuaded him that you affected the crown; and he returned with thatdeceiver to draw his sword against his people and their ambitiousidol--for so he believed you to be; and grievous has been the expiationof that fatal hour! Your conference with him on the banks of theCarron opened his eyes; he saw what his credulity had made Scotlandsuffer; what a wreck he had made of his own fame; and from that momenthe resolved to follow another course. But the habit of trusting theaffection of Edward inclined him rather to remonstrate on his rightsthan immediately to take up arms against him; yet, resolved not tostrike a second blow on his people, when you assailed the Southron camphe withdrew his few remaining followers, who had survived thehard-fought day of Falkirk, into a remote defile. On quitting you, Icame up with him in Mid=Lothian; and never having missed me from thecamp, he concluded that I had appeared thus late from having kept inthe rear of the division."
Bruce now proceeded to narrate to Wallace the particulars of hisfather's meeting with the king at Durham. Instead of that monarchreceiving the Earl of Carrick with his wonted familiar welcome, heturned coldly from him when he approached, and suffered him to take hisusual seat at the royal table without deigning him the slightestnotice. Young Bruce was absent from the banquet, having determinednever to mingle again in social communion with the man whom he nowregarded as the usurper of his father's rights. The absence of thefilial eye which had once looked the insolent Buchan into his inherentinsignificance, now emboldened the audacity of this enemy of the houseof Carrick; and, supported by Athol on the one side, and Soulis on theother, the base voluptuary seized a pause in the conversation (that hemight draw the attention of all present to the disgrace of the chief),and said, with affected carelessness, "My Lord of Carrick, to-day youdine with clean hands; the last time, I saw you at meat, they weregarnished with your own blood!" The earl turned on him a look whichasked him to explain. Lord Buchan laughed, and continued, "When welast met at table, was it not in his majesty's tent after the victoryat Falkirk? You were then red from the slaughter of those bastardizedpeople to whom I understand you now give the fond appellation of sons.Having recognized the relationship, it was not probable we should againsee your hands in their former brave livery; and their present pallidhue convinces more than myself, of the truth of our information."
"And me," cried Edward, rising on the couch to which his woundsconfined him, "that I have discovered a traitor! You fled, LordCarrick, at the first attack which the Scots made on my camp, and youdrew thousands after you. I know you too well to believe thatcowardice impelled the motion. It was treachery, accursed treachery toyour friend and king; and you shall feel the weight of his resentment!"
"To this hour, Kind Edward," replied the earl, starting from his chair,"I have been more faithful to you than to my country or my God! Iheard, saw, and believed, only what you determined; and I became yourslave, your vile, oppressed slave! the victim of your artifice! Howoften have you pledged yourself that you fought in Scotland only for myadvantage! I gave my faith and my power to you; and how often have youpromised, after the next successful battle, to restore me to the crownof my ancestors! I still believed you, and I still engaged all who yetacknowledged the influence of Bruce, to support your name in Scotland.Was not such the reiterated promise by which you allured me to thefield of Falkirk? And when I had covered myself, as Lord Buchan tootruly says, with the blood of my children; when I asked my friend forthe crown I had served for, what was his answer? 'Have I naught to dobut to win kingdoms to make gifts of?' Thus, then, did a king, afriend, break his often-repreated word! What wonder, then, that Ishould feel the indignation of a prince and a friend; and leave thefalse, alas! the perjured, to defenders whom he seemed more highly toapprove? But of treachery, what have I shown? Rather confidence, KingEdward; and the confidence that was awakened in the fields of Palestinebrought me hither to-day to remonstrate with you on my rights; when bythrowing myself into the arms of my people, I might have demanded themat the head of a victorious army."
Edward, who had prepared by the Cummins to discredit all that Carrickmight say in his defense, turned with a look of contempt toward him,and said, "You have persuaded to act like a madman, and as maniacs bothyourself and your son shall be guarded till I have leisure to considerany rational evidence you may in future offer in your vindication."
"And is this the manner, King Edward, that you treat your friend, onceyour preserver?"
"The vassal," replied Edward, "who presumes upon the condescension ofhis prince, and acts as if he were really his equal, ought to meet thepunishment due to such arrogance. You saved my life on the walls ofAcre; but you owed that duty to the son of your liege lord. In thefervor of youth I inconsiderately rewarded you with my friendship, andthe return is treason." As he concluded he turned from Lord Carrick;and the marshals immediately seizing the earl, took him to the keep ofthe castle.**
**These speeches are historically true; as is also Edward'safter-treatment of the Earl of Carrick.
His son, who had been sought in the Carrick quarters, and laid under anarrest, met his father in the guard-chamber. Carrick could not speak;but motioning to be conducted to the place appointed for his prison,the men with equal silence led him through a range of apartments whichoccupied the middle story, and stopping in the furthest, left him therewith his son. Bruce was not surprised at his own arrest; but at thatof his father, he stood in speechless astonishment until the guardswithdrew; then, seeing Lord Carrick with a changing countenance throwhimself on the bed (for it was in his sleeping room they had left him),he exclaimed, "What is the meaning of this, my father? Has any chargeagainst me brought suspicion on you?"
"No, Robert, no," replied the earl; "it is I who have brought you intothis prison, and into disgrace; disgrace with all the world, for havingtacitly surrendered my inheritance to the invader of my country.Honest men abhor, villains treat me with contumely; and he for whom Iincurred all this, because I would not, when my eyes were open to mysin, again imbrue my hands in the blood of my country, now thrusts mefrom him! You are implicated in my crime; and for not joining theSouthrons to repel the Scots from the royal camp, we are bothprisoners!"
"Then," replied Bruce, "he shall feel that you have a son who hasvirtue to be what he suspects; and from this hour I proclaim eternalenmity to the betrayer of my father; to the ingrate who embraced you todestroy!"
The indignation of the youthful prince wrought him to so vehement adeclaration of resolute and immediate hostility, that Lord Carrick wasobliged to give his transports way; but when he saw that hisdenunciations were exhausted, though not the determined purpose of hissoul (for he trod the room with a step which seemed to shake itsfoundations, with the power of his mighty mind), Carrick gazed on himwith pride, yet grief, and sighing heavily called him to approach him."Come to me, my Robert!" said he, "hear and abide by the lastinjunctions of your father, for from this bed I may never rise more. Atoo late sense of the injuries my sanction has doubled on the people Iwas born to protect, and the ingratitu
de of him for whom I haveoffended my God and wronged my country, have broken my heart. I shalldie, Robert, but you will avenge me!"
"May God so prosper me!" cried Bruce, raising his arms to heaven.Carrick resumed:
"Attend to me, my dear and brave son, and do not mistake the nature ofmy last wish. Do not allow the perhaps too forcible word I have used,to hurry you into any personal revenge on Edward. Let him live to feeland to regret the outrages he has committed on the peace and honor ofhis too faithful friend. Pierce him on the side of his ambition, therehe is vulnerable, and there you will heal while you wound. This wouldbe my revenge, dear Robert, that you should one day have his life inyour power, and in memory of what I now say, spare it. When I am gone,think not of private resentment. Let your aim be the recovery of thekingdom, which Edward rifled from your fathers. Join the virtuous andtriumphant Wallace. Tell him of my remorse, of my fate, and be guidedwholly by his counsels. To insure the success of this enterprise, myson--a success to which I look as to the only means of redeeming thename I have lost, and of inspiring my separated spirit with courage tomeet the freeborn souls of my ancestors--urge not your own destructionby any premature disclosure of your resolutions. For my sake and foryour country's, suppress your resentment, threaten not the King ofEngland, provoke not the unworthy Scottish lords who have gained hisear; but bury all in your own bosom till you can join Wallace. Then,by his arm, and your own, seat yourself firmly on the throne of yourfathers. That moment will sufficiently avenge me on Edward!--and inthat moment, Robert! or at least as soon as circumstances can allow,let the English ground which will then hold my body, give up its dead!Remove me to a Scottish grave, and, standing over my ashes, proclaim tothem who might have been my people, that for every evil I suffered tofall on Scotland, I have since felt answering pangs, and that dying, Ibeg their forgiveness, and bequeath them my best blessing--my virtuousson, to reign in my stead!"
These injunctions to assert his own honor and that of his father, werereadily sworn to by Bruce; but he could not so easily be made to quellthe imperious indignation which was precipitating him to an immediateand loud revenge. The dying earl trembled before the overwhelmingpassion of his son's wrath and grief. Treated with outrage andcontumely, he saw his father stricken to the earth before him, and hecould not bear to hear any temporizing with his murderers. But allthis tempest of the soul the wisdom-inspired arguments of the earl atlast becalmed, but could not subdue. He convinced his son's reason byshowing him that caution would insure the blow, and that his aim couldonly be effected by remaining silent till he could publish his father'shonor, evidenced by his own heroism. "Do this," added Carrick, "and Ishall live fair in the memories of men. But be violent, threatenEdward from these walls, menace the wretches who have trodden on thegray hairs of their prince, and your voice will be heard no more; thisground will drink your blood, and blindly judging infamy will foreverafter point to our obscure graves!"
Such persuasives at last prevailed with Bruce, and next day, writingthe hasty lines which Wallace received at Falkirk, he intrusted them tohis senachie, who conveyed them to Scotland by means of the shepherdyouth.
Shortly after the dispatch of this letter, the presage of Lord Carrickwas verified; he was seized in the night with spasms, and died in thearms of his son.
When Bruce related these particulars, his grief and indignation becameso violent, that Wallace was obliged to enforce the dying injunctionsof the father he thus vehemently deplored, to moderate the delirium ofhis soul. "Ah!" exclaimed the young earl, "I have indeed needed somefriend to save me from myself, some one to reconcile me to the RobertBruce who had so long slept in the fatal delusions which poisoned hisfather and laid him low! Oh! Wallace! at times I am mad. I know notwhether this forbearance be not cowardice. I doubt whether my fathermeant what he spoke, that he did not yet seek to preserve the life ofhis son at the expense of his honor, and I have been ready toprecipitate myself on the steel of Edward, so that he should but meetthe point of mine!"
Bruce then added, that in his more rational meditations, he hadresolved to attempt an escape in the course of a few days. Heunderstood that a deputation of English barons, seeking a ratificationof their charter, were soon to arrive in Durham; the bustle attendanton their business would, he hoped, draw attention from him, and affordhim the opportunity he sought. "In that case," continued he, "I shouldhave made directly to Stirling, and had not Providence conducted you tome, I might have unconsciously thrown myself into the midst of enemies.James Cummin is too ambitious to have allowed my life to passunattempted."
Whilst he was yet speaking, the door of the chamber burst open, andBruce's two attendants rushed into the room with looks aghast. Bruceand Wallace started on their feet and laid their hands on their swords.But instead of anything hostile appearing behind the servants, theinebriated figure of the senachie staggered forward. The men, hardlyawake, stood staring and trembling, and looking from the senachie toWallace; at last one, extricating his terror-struck tongue, and fallingon his knees, exclaimed: "Blessed St. Andrew! here is the senachie andhis wraith." Bruce perceived the mistake of his servants, andexplaining to them that a traveling minstrel had obliged the senachieby performing his duty, he bade them retire to rest, and think no moreof their alarm. The intoxicated bard threw himself without ceremony onhis pallet in the recess, and the servants, though convinced, stillshaking with superstitious fright, entreated permission to bring theirheather beds into their lord's chamber. To deny them was impossible,and all further converse with Wallace that night being put an end to, acouch was laid for him in an interior apartment, and with a gratefulpressure of the hands, in which their hearts silently embraced, thechiefs separated to repose.