Chapter LVIII.
The Bishop's Palace.
The second matin bell sounded from the abbey before the eyes of Wallaceopened from the deep sleep which had sealed them. A bath refreshed himfrom every toil, then renewing the stain on his face and hands with thejuice of a nut which he carried about him, and once more covering hismartial figure and golden hair with the minstrel's cassock and cowl, herejoined his friend.
Bruce had previously affected to consider the senachie as stilldisordered by his last night's excess, and ordering him from hispresence for at least a day, commanded that the traveling minstrelshould be summoned to supply his place.
The table was spread when Wallace entered, and several servants were inattendance. Bruce hastily rose and would have embraced him, so did hiscomforted heart spring to meet his friend; but before these people itwould have been more than imprudent, and hailing him with only one ofhis love-beaming looks, he made a sign to him to take his place at aboard near his own. To prevent suspicioin in the attendants (some ofwhom might be spies of Edward's), during the repast he discoursed withWallace on subjects relative to northern literature, repeating manypassages apposite to his own heroic sentiments, from Ossian and otherScottish bards.
The meal finished, Wallace, to maintain his assumed character while theservants were removing the table, was tuning his harp when the Earl ofGloucester entered the room. The earl told Bruce the king had requiredthe attendance of the border minstrel, and that after searching overthe castle, the royal seneschal had at last discovered he was in thekeep with him. On this being intimated to Gloucester, he chose ratherto come himself to demand the harper from his friend, than to subjecthim to the insolence of the royal servants. The king desired to hear"The Triumph," with which the minstrel had so much pleased the queen.Bruce turned pale at this message; and was opening his mouth to utter adenial, when Wallace, who read in his countenance what he was going tosay, and aware of the consequences, immediately spoke:
"If my lord Bruce will grant permission, I should wish to comply withthe King of England's request."
"Minstrel!" replied Bruce, casting on him a powerful expression of whatwas passing in his mind, "you know not, perhaps that the King ofEngland is at enmity with me, and cannot mean well to any one who hasbeen my guest, or servant! The Earl of Gloucester will excuse yourattendance in the presence."
"Not for my life or the minstrel's!" replied the earl; "the king wouldsuspect some mystery, and this innocent man might fall into peril. Butas it is, his majesty merely wishes to hear him play and sing, and Ipledge myself he shall return in safety."
Further opposition would only have courted danger, and with as good agrace as he could assume, Bruce gave his consent. A page who followedGloucester took up the harp, and with a glance at his friend, whichspoke the fearless mind with which he ventured into the power of hisenemy, Wallace accompanied Gloucester out of the room.
The earl moved swiftly forward, and leading him through a double lineof guards, the folding-doors of the royal apartment were thrown open bytwo knights in waiting, and Wallace found himself in the royalpresence. Perforated with wounds which the chief's own hand had givenhim, the king lay upon a couch overhung with a crimson-velvet canopy,with long golden fringes which swept the floor. His crown stood on acushion at his head, and his queen, the blooming Margaret of France,sat full of smiles at his feet. The young Countess of Gloucesteroccupied a seat by her side.
The countess, who from indisposition had not been at court thepreceding day, fixed her eyes on the minstrel as he advanced into themiddle of the room, where the page, by Gloucester's orders, planted theharp. She observed the manner of his obeisance to the king and queen,and to herself, and the queen whispering her with a smile, said, whilehe was taking his station at the harp, "Have your British troubadoursusually such an air as that? Am I right, or am I wrong?"
"Quite right," replied the countess in as low a voice; "I suppose hehas sung of kings and heroes till he cannot help assuming their stepand demeanor!"
"But how did he come by those eyes?" answered the queen. "If singingof Reuther's 'beamy gaze' have so richly endowed his own, by gettinghim to teach me his art, I may warble myself into a complexion as fairas any northern beauty!"
"But then his must not be the subject of your song," whispered thecountess with a laugh, "for methinks it is rather of the Ethiop hue!"
During this short dialogue, which was heard by none but the two ladies,Edward was speaking with Gloucester, and Wallace leaned upon his harp.
"That is enough," said the king to his son-in-law; "now let me hear himplay."
The earl gave the word, and Wallace, striking the chords with themaster hand of genius, called forth such strains and uttered such tonesfrom his full and richly-modulated voice, that the king listened withwonder, and the queen and countess scarcely allowed themselves tobreathe. He sung the parting of Reuther and his bride, and their soulsseemed to pant upon his notes; he changed his measure, and their bosomsheaved with the enthusiasm which spoke from his lips and hand, for heurged the hero to battle, he described the conflict, he mourned theslain, he sung the glorious triumph; as the last sweep of the harprolled its lofty diapason on the ear of the king, the monarch deignedto pronounce him unequaled in his art. Excess of delight so agitatedthe more delicate frames of the ladies, that while they poured theirencomiums on the minstrel, they wiped the glistening tears form theircheeks. The queen approached him, laid her hand upon the harp, andtouching the strings with a light finger, said with a sweet smile, "Youmust remain with the king's musicians, and teach me how to charm as youdo!" Wallace replied to this innocent speech with a smile sweet as herown, and bowed.
The countess drew near. Though not much older than the youthful queen,she had been married twice, and being therefore more acquainted withthe proprieties of life, her compliments were uttered in a form morebefitting her rank, and the supposed quality of the man to whom thequeen continued to pour forth her less considerate praises.
Edward desired Gloucester to bring the minstrel closer to him. Wallaceapproached the royal couch. Edward looked at him from head to footbefore he spoke. Wallace bore his eagle gaze with an undisturbedcountenance; he neither withdrew his eye from the king, nor did heallow a conqueror's fire to emit from its glance.
"Who are you?" at length demanded Edward, who, surprised at the noblemien and unabashed carriage of the minstrel, conceived some suspicionsof his quality.
Wallace saw what was passing in the king's mind, and determining by afrank reply to uproot his doubts, mildly but fearlessly answered:
"A Scot."
"Indeed!" said the king, satisfied that no incendiary would dare thusto proclaim himself. "And how durst you, being of that outlawednation, venture into my court? Feared you not to fall a sacrifice tomy indignation against the mad leader of your rebellious countrymen?"
"I fear nothing on earth," replied Wallace. "This garb is privileged,none who respect that sacred law dare commit violence on a minstrel,and against them who regard no law but that of their own wills, I havethis weapon to defend me." As Wallace spoke he pointed to a dirk stuckin his girdle.
"You are a bold man, and an honest man, I believe," replied the king;"and as my queen desires it, I order your enrollment in my travelingtrain of musicians. You may leave the presence."
"Then follow me to my apartment," cried the queen; "countess, you willaccompany me, to see me take my first lesson."
A page took up the harp; and Wallace, bowing his head to the king, wasconducted by Gloucester to the anteroom of the queen's apartments. Theearl there told him, that when dismissed by the queen, a page he wouldleave would show him the way back to Lord Carrick.
The royal Margaret herself opened the door, so eager was she to admither teacher; and placing herself at the harp, she attempted a passageof "The Triumph," which had particularly struck her, but she playedwrong. Wallace was asked to set her right; he obeyed. She wasquick--he clear in his explanations; and in les
s than half an hour hemade her execute the whole movement in a manner that delighted her.
"Why, minstrel," cried she, looking up in his face, "either your harpis enchanted, or you are a magician. I have studied three long yearsto play the lute, and could never bring forth any tone that did notmake me ready to stop my own ears. And now, countess," cried she,again touching a few chords, "did you ever hear anything so enchanting?"
"I suppose," returned the countess, "all your former instructors havebeen novices, and this Scot alone knows the art to which theypretended."
"Do you hear what the countess says?" exclaimed the queen, affecting towhisper to him; "she will not allow of any spiritual agency in mywonderfully-awakened talent. If you can contradict her, do; for I wantvery much to believe in fairies, magicians, and all the enchantingworld!"
Wallace, with a respectful smile, answered, "I know of now spirit thathas interposed in your majesty's favor but that of your own genius; andit is more efficient than the agency of all fairy-land."
The queen looked at him very gravely, and said, "If you really thinkthere are no such things as fairies and enchantments, for so your wordswould imply, then everybody in your country must have genius, for theyseem to be excellent in everything. Your warriors are so peerlesslybrave--all, excepting these Scottish lords who are such favorites withthe king! I wonder what he can see in their uncouth faces, or find intheir rough indelicate conversation to admire. If it had not been fortheir besetting my gracious Edward, I am sure he never would havesuspected ill of the noble Bruce!"
"Queen Margaret!" cried the Countess of Gloucester, giving her a lookof respectful reprehension; "had not the minstrel better retire?"
The queen blushed, and recollected that she was giving too free a ventto her sentiments; but she could not suffer Wallace to withdraw.
"I have yet to ask you," resumed she--"the warriors of Scotland beingso resistless, and their minstrels so perfect in their art--whether allthe ladies can be so beautiful as the Lady Helen Mar?"
The eagerness with which Wallace grasped at any tidings of her who wasso prime an object of his enterprise at once disturbed the composure ofhis air, and had the penetrating eyes of the countess been thendirected toward him, she might have drawn some dangerous conclusionsfrom the start he gave at the mention of her name, and from theheightened color which, in spite of his exertions to suppress allevident emotion, maintained its station on his cheek.
"But, perhaps you have never seen her?" added the queen.
Wallace replied, neither denying nor affirming her question: "I haveheard many praise her beauty, but more her virtues."
"Well, I am sorry," continued her majesty, "since you sing so sweetlyof female charms, that you have not seen this wonder of Scottishladies. You have now little chance of that good fortune, for Earl deValence has taken her abroad, intending to marry her amidst all thestate with which my lord has invested him."
"Is it to Guienne he has taken her?" inquired Wallace.
"Yes," replied the queen, rather pleased than offended at theminstrel's ignorance of court ceremony in thus familiarly presuming toput a question to her. She continued to answer: "While so nearScotland he could not win her to forget her native country and herfather's danger, who it seems was dying when De Valence carried heraway. And, to prevent bloodshed between the earl and Soulis, who isalso madly in love with her, my ever-gracious Edward gave the Englishlord a high post in Guienne, and thither they are gone."
Before Wallace could reply to some remark which the queen laughinglyadded to her information, the countess thought it proper to give hergay mother-in-law a more decisive reminder of decorum, and, rising, shewhispered something which covered the youthful Margaret in blushes.Her majesty rose directly, and pushing away the harp, hurryingly said:"You may leave the room;" and turning her back to Wallace, walked awaythrough an opposite door.