The Scottish Chiefs

  Chapter LIX.

  The Round Tower.

  Wallace was yet recounting the particulars of his royal visit to Bruce(who had anxiously watched his return), when one of the queen'sattendants appeared; and presenting him with a silk handkerchiefcuriously coiled up, said, that he brought it from her majesty; whosupposed it must be his, as she found it in the room where he had beenplaying the harp. Wallace was going to say that it did not belong tohim, when Bruce gave him a look which directed him to take thehandkerchief. He obeyed, without a word, and the boy withdrew.

  Bruce smiled. "There is more in that handkerchief than silk, myfriend! Queens send not these embassies on trifling errands." WhileBruce spoke, Wallace unwrapped it. "I told you so!" cried the prince,with a frank archness playing over his before pensive features, andpointing to a slip of emblazoned vellum, which became unfolded. "ShallI look aside while you peruse it?"

  "Look on it, my dear prince," replied Wallace; "for in trifles, as wellas in things of moment, I would hold no reserves with you."

  The vellum was then opened, and these words presented themselves:

  "Presume not on condescension. This injunction may be necessary forthe noble lady who was present at our interview tells me the men ofthis island are very presuming. Redeem the character of yourcountrymen, and transgress not on a courtesy that only means to say, Idid not leave you this morning so abruptly out of unkindness. I writethis, because having the countess ever with me, I shall not even dareto whisper it in her presence. Be always faithful, and respectful,minstrel, and you shall ever find an indulgent mistress.

  "A page will call you when your attendance is desired."

  Wallace and Bruce looked on each other. Bruce first spoke.

  "Had you vanity, my friend, this letter, from so lovely and innocent acreature, might be a gratification; but in your case, the sentiment itbreathes is full of danger. She knows not the secret power thatimpelled her to write this, but we do; and I fear it will point anattention to you which may produce effects ruinous to our projects."

  "Then," answered Wallace, "our alternative is to escape it by gettingaway this very night. And, as you persevere in your resolution not toenter Scotland unaccompanied by me, and will share my attempt to rescueLady Helen Mar, we must direct our course immediately to the Continent."

  "Yes, instantly, and securely, too, under the disguise of priests!"returned Bruce. "I have in my possession the wardrobe of the confessorwho followed my father's fortunes, and who, on his death, retired intothe abbey which contains his remains."

  It was then settled between the friends, that when it became dark theyshould dress themselves in the confessor's robes, and by means of thequeen's signet, which she had given to Wallace at the banquet, pass theguard as priests who had entered by some other gate, and were returnedfrom shriving her majesty. Once without the city, they could make aswift progress southward to the nearest seaport, and there safelyembark for France; for they were well aware that the moment they weremissed suspicion would direct pursuit toward the Scottish border.

  In these arrangements, and planning their future movements relative tothe rescue of Lady Helen, they passed several hours, and were onlyinterrupted by the arrival of a lute from the queen for her minstrel totune. Wallace obeyed; and returning it by the page who brought it,congratulated himself that it was not accompanied by any new summons.Then continuing his discourse with Bruce on the past, present, and tocome, their souls grew more closely entwined as they more intimatelyrecognized their kindred natures; and time moved on, unmarked, till theshadows of evening deepened into night.

  "Now is our hour," cried Bruce, starting on his feet; "go you into thatroom, and array yourself in the confessor's robes, while I call myservants to dispense with their usual nightly attendance."

  With determination and hope, Wallace gladly obeyed. In that very sameinstant the Earl of Gloucester suddenly entered; and, looking round theroom with a disturbed countenance, abruptly said:

  "Where is the minstrel?"

  "Why?" answered Bruce, with an alarm which he vainly tried to preventappearing on his face. Gloucester advanced close to him.

  "Is any one within hearing?"

  "No one."

  "Then," replied the earl, "his life is in danger. He is suspected tobe not what he seems; and I am sorry to add, to stand in favor with thequeen, of a nature to incur his mortal punishment."

  Bruce was so confounded with this stoppage of all their plans, and atthe imminent peril of Wallace, that he could not speak. Gloucesterproceeded:

  "My dear Bruce, from the circumstance of his being with you, I cannotbut suppose that you know more than you think proper to disclose.Whoever he may be, whether he came from France, or really fromScotland, as he says, his life is now forfeited. And that, byattempting to screen him, you may not seem to share his imputed guilt,I come to warn you of this discovery. A double guard is set around thekeep; so no visible means are left for his escape."

  "Then what will become of him?" exclaimed Bruce, forgetting all cautionin dismay for his friend. "Am I to see the bravest of men, the saviorof my country, butchered before my eyes by a tyrant? I may die,Gloucester, in his defense, but I will never surrender him to hisenemy!"

  Gloucester stood aghast at this disclosure. He came to accuse thefriend of Bruce, that Bruce might be prepared to clear himself ofconnivance with so treasonable a crime; but now that he found thisfriend to be Wallace, the preserver of his own life, the restorer ofhis honor at Berwick, he immediately resolved to give him freedom.

  "Bruce," cried he, "when I recollect the figure and deportment of thisminstrel, I am surprised that, in despite of his disguise, I did notrecognize the invincible Regent of Scotland; but now I know him, heshall find that generosity is not confined to his own breast. Give meyour word that you will not stimulate suspicion by remonstrating withEdward against your own arrest till the court leaves Durham, and I willinstantly find a way to conduct your friend in safety from the castle."

  "I pledge you my word of honor," cried Bruce; "release but him, and, ifyou demand it of me, I would die in chains."

  "He saved me at Berwick," replied Gloucester, "and I am anxious torepay the debt. If he be near, explain what has happened in as fewwords as possible, for we must not delay a moment. I left a councilwith the enraged king, settling what horrible death was to be hispunishment."

  "When he is safe," answered Bruce, "I will attest his innocence to you;meanwhile, rely on my faith, that you are giving liberty to a guiltlessman."

  Bruce hastened to Wallace, who had just completed his disguise. Hebriefly related what had passed, and received for answer, that he wouldnot leave his prince to the revenge of the tyrant. But Bruce, urgingthat the escape of the one could alone secure that of the other,implored him not to persist in refusing his offered safety, but to makedirect for Normandy.

  "I will join you at Rouen; and thence we can proceed to Guienne," addedhe. "The hour the court leaves Durham is that of my escape; and whenfree, what shall divide me from you and our enterprise!"

  Wallace had hardly assented, when a tumultuous noise broke the silenceof the courtyard; the great iron doors of the keep were thrown back ontheir hinges, and the clangor of arms, with many voices, resounded inthe hall. Thinking all was lost, with a cry of despair, Bruce drew hissword, and threw himself before his friend. At that instant Gloucesterentered the room. "They are quicker than I thought!" cried he; "butfollow me. Bruce, remain where you are: sheathe your sword--be bold;deny you know anything of the minstrel, and all will be well." As hespoke, the feet of them who were come to seize Wallace already soundedin the adjoining apartment. Gloucester grasped the Scottish hero bythe hand, turned into a short gallery, and, plucking the broad shaft ofa cedar pilaster from under its capital, let himself and his companioninto a passage within the wall of the building. The ponderous beamclosed after them into its former situation; and the silent pairdescended, by a long flight of stone steps, to a square dungeon without
any visible outlet; but the earl found one, by raising a flat stonemarked by an elevated cross; and again they penetrated lower into thebosom of the earth by a gradually declining path till they stopped on asubterranean level ground. "This vaulted passage," said Gloucester,"reaches, in a direct line, to Fincklay Abbey.** A particularcircumstance constrained my uncle, the then abbot of that monastery, todiscover it to me, ten years ago. He told me, that to none but thebishops of Durham and the abbots of Fincklay was the secret of itsexistence revealed. Since my coming hither this time (which was toescort the young queen--not to bear arms against Scotland), I one daytook it into my head to revisit this recess; and, happily for thegratitude I owe to you, I found all as I had left it in my uncle'slifetime. But, for the sake of my honor with Edward, whose wrath wouldfall upon me in most fearful shapes should he ever know that Idelivered his vanquisher out of his hands, I must enjoin you tosecrecy. Though the enemy of my king's ambition, you are the friend ofmankind. You were my benefactor, noble Wallace; and I should deservethe rack, could I suffer one hair of your head to fall with violence tothe ground."

  **The remains of this curious subterranean passage are yet to be seen;but parts of them are now broken in upon by water, and therefore thecommunication between Durham and Fincklay is now cut off.

  With answering frankness, Wallace declared his sense of the earl'sgenerosity; and earnestly commended the young Bruce to his watchfulfriendship. "The brave impetuosity of his mind," continued he, "attimes may overthrow his prudence, and leave him exposed to dangerswhich a little virtuous caution might avoid. Dissimulation is abaseness I should shudder at seeing him practice; but when the flood ofindignation swells his bosom, then tell him, that I conjure him, on thelife of his dearest wishes, to be silent! The storm which threatensmust blow over, and the power which guides through perils those whotrust in it, will ordain that we shall meet again!"

  Gloucester replied, "What you say I will repeat to Bruce. I am toosensible that my royal father-in-law has trampled on his rights; andshould I ever see him restored to the throne of his ancestors, I couldnot but acknowledge the hand of Heaven in the event. Far would it havebeen from me to have bound him to remain a prisoner during Edward'ssojourn at Durham, had I not been certain that your escape and histogether would now give birth to a plausible argument in the minds ofmy enemies; and, grounding their suspicions on my acknowledgedattachment to Bruce, the king might have been persuaded to believe meunfaithful to his interests. The result would be my disgrace, and abroken heart to her who has raised me by her generous love from thehumbler ranks of nobility to that of a prince, and her husband."

  Gloucester then informed Wallace that about two hours before he came toalarm Bruce for his safety on this occasion, he was summoned by Edwardto attend him immediately. When he obeyed, he found Soulis standing bythe royal couch, and his majesty talking with vehemence. At sight ofGloucester he beckoned him to advance, and striking his hand fiercelyon a letter he held, he exclaimed:

  "Here, my son, behold the record of your father's shame!--of a King ofEngland dishonored by a slave!"

  As he spoke he dashed it from him. Soulis answered, smiling:

  "Not a slave, my lord and king! can you not see, through the illadapted disguise, the figure and mien of nobility? He is some foreignlover of your bride, come--"

  "Enough!" interrupted the king; "I know I am dishonored; but thevillain shall die. Read the letter, Gloucester, and say what torturesshall stamp my vengeance!"

  Gloucester opened the vellum, and read, in the queen's hand:

  "Gentle minstrel! my lady countess tells me I must not see you again.Were you old or ugly, as most bards are, I might, she says; but beingyoung, it is not for a queen to smile upon one of your calling. Shebade me remember, that when I smiled, you smiled too; and that youasked me questions unbecoming your degree. Pray do not do this anymore; though I see no harm in it; alas! I used to smile as I liked whenI was in France. Oh, if it were not for those I love best, who are nowin England, I wish I were there again! and you would go with me, gentleminstrel, would you not? And you would teach me to sing so sweetly! Iwould then never talk with you, but would always speak in song; howpretty that would be! and then we should be from under the eyes of thisharsh countess. My ladies in France would let you come in and stay aslong with me as I pleased. But as I cannot go back again, I will makemyself happy here in spite of the countess, who rules me more as if shewere my stepmother than I hers; but then to be sure she is a few yearsolder.

  "I will see you this evening, and your sweet harp shall sing all myheart-aches to sleep. My French lady of honor will conduct yousecretly to my apartments. I am sure you are too honest even to guessat what the countess thinks you might fancy when I smile on you. But,gentle minstrel, presume not, and you shall ever find an indulgentmistress in M--

  "P.S. At the last vespers to-night, my page shall come for you."

  Gloucester knew the queen's handwriting; and not being able tocontradict that this letter was hers, he inquired how it came into hismajesty's hands.

  "I found it," replied Soulis, "in crossing the courtyard; it lay on theground, where, doubtless, it had been accidentally dropped by thequeen's messenger."

  Gloucester, wishing to extenuate for the queen's sake, whose youth andinexperience he pitied, affirmed that, from the simplicity with whichthe note was written, from her innocent references to the minstrel'sprofession, he could not suppose that she addressed him in any othercharacter.

  "If he be only a base itinerant harper," replied the king, "the deeperis my disgrace; for, if a passion of another king than music be notportrayed in every word of this artful letter, I never read a woman'sheart!"

  The king continued to comment on the fatal scroll with the lynx-eye ofjealousy, loading her name with every opprobrium. Gloucester inwardlythanked Heaven that none other than Soulis and himself were present tohear Edward fasten such foul dishonor on his queen. The generous earlcould not find other arguments to assuage the mountain ire of herhusband. She might be innocent of actual guilt, or indeed of beingaware of more than a queen's usual interest in a poor wanderingminstrel was, as the king said, in every line. Gloucester remainingsilent, Edward believed him convinced of the queen's crime; and beingtoo wrathful to think of caution, he sent for the bishop and others ofhis lords, and when they entered, vented to them also his injury andindignation. Many were not inclined to be of the same opinion withtheir sovereign; some thought with Gloucester, others deemed the letteraltogether a forgery; and a few adopted the severer inferences of herhusband; but all united (even those determined to spare the queen) inrecommending an immediate apprehension and private execution of theminstrel.

  "It is not fit," cried Soulis, "that a man who has ever been suspectedof invading our monarch's honor, should live another hour."

  This sanguinary sentence was acceded to, and with as little remorse bythe whole assembly as if they had merely condemned a tree to the ax.Such is the carelessness with which the generality of arbitraryassemblies decide on the fate of a fellow mortal! Earl Percy, who gavehis vote for the death of the minstrel more from this culpableinconsideration than that thirst of blood which stimulated the voicesof Soulis and the Cummins, proposed--as he believed the queeninnocent--that honor should be examined relative to the circumstancesmentioned in the letter.

  The king immediately ordered their attendance.

  The royal Jane of Acre appeared at the first summons, and spoke with anair of truth and freedom from alarm which convinced every candid ear ofthe innocence of the queen. Her testimony was, that she believed theminstrel to be other than he seemed; but she was certain, from theconversations which the queen had held with her after the bishop'sfeast, that it was at this very feast she had first seen him, and thatshe was ignorant of his real rank. On being questioned by the bishop,the countess acknowledged that her majesty had praised his figure aswell as his singing; "yet not more," added she, "than she afterward didto the king when she awakened his curiosity
to send for him." Herhighness continued to reply to the interrogatories put to her, bysaying, that it was in the king's presence she herself first saw theminstrel; and then she thought his demeanor much above his situation;but, when he accompanied the queen and herself into her majesty'sapartments, she had then an opportunity to observe him narrowly, as thequeen engaged him in conversation; and by his answers, questions, andeasy, yet respectful deportment, she became convinced he was not whathe appeared.

  "And why, Jane," asked the king, "did you not impart these suspicionsto your husband or to me?"

  "Because," replied she, "remembering that my interference on a certainpublic occasion brought my late husband, Clare, under your majesty'sdispleasure; on my marriage with Monthermer, I made a solemn vow beforemy confessor never to offend in the like manner. And besides, thecountenance of this stranger was so ingenious, and his sentiments sonatural and honorable, I could not suspect he came on any disloyalerrand."

  "Lady," observed one of the elder lords, "if you thought so well of thequeen and of this man, why did you caution her against his smiles, anddeem it necessary to persuade her not to see him again?"

  The countess blushed at this question, but replied, "Because I saw theminstrel was a gentleman. He possessed a noble figure, and a handsomeface in spite of his Egyptian skin. Like most young gentlemen, hemight be conscious of these advantages, and attribute the artlessapprobation, the innocent smiles of my gracious queen, to a source moreflattering to his vanity. I have known many lords, not far from yourmajesty, make similar mistakes on as little grounds," added she,looking disdainfully toward some of the younger nobles; "and,therefore, to prevent such insolence, I desired his final dismission."

  "Thank you, my dear Jane," replied the king; "you almost persuade me ofMargaret's innocence."

  "Believe it, sire!" cried she with animation; "whatever romanticthoughtlessness her youth and inexperience may have led her into, Ipledge my life on her purity."

  "First, let us hear what that French woman has to say to theassignation," exclaimed Soulis, whose polluted heart could not supposethe existence of true purity, and whose cruel disposition exulted intorturing and death; "question her, and then her majesty may have fullacquittal."

  Again the brow of Edward was overcast. The fiends of jealously oncemore tugged at his heart; and ordering the Countess of Gloucester towithdraw he commanded the Baroness de Pontoise to be brought into hispresence.

  When she saw the king's threatening looks, and beheld the fearfulexpression which shot from every surrounding countenance, she shrunkwith terror. Long backneyed in secret gallantries, the same inwardwhisper which had proclaimed to Soulis that the queen was guilty,induced her to believe that she had been the confidante of an illicitpassion; and therefore, though she knew nothing really bad of herunhappy mistress, yet, fancying that she did, she stood before theroyal tribunal with the air and aspect of a culprit.

  "Repeat to me," demanded the king, "or answer it with your head, allthat you know of Queen Margaret's intimacy with the man who callshimself a minstrel."

  At these words, which were delivered in a tone that seemed the sentenceof death, the French woman fell on her knees, and in a burst of terrorexclaimed, "Sire, I will reveal all if your majesty will grant mepardon for having too faithfully served my mistress!"

  "Speak! speak!" cried the king, with desperate impatience. "I swear topardon you, even if you have joined in a conspiracy against my life;but speak the truth, and all the truth, that judgment, without mercy,may fall on the guilty heads!"

  "Then I obey," answered the baroness.

  "Foul betrayer!" half-exclaimed Gloucester, turning disappointed away."O! what it is to be vile, and to trust the vile! But virtue will notbe auxiliary to vice--and so wickedness falls by its own agents."

  The baroness, raised from her kneeling position by Soulis, began:

  "The only time I ever heard of, or saw this man, to my knowledge, waswhen he was brought to play before my lady at the bishop's banquet. Idid not much observe him, being engaged in conversation at the otherend of the room; so I cannot say, whether I might not have seen him inFrance; for many noble lords adored the Princess Margaret, though sheappeared to frown upon them all. But I must confess, when I attendedher majesty's disrobing after the feast, she put to me so manyquestions about what I thought of the minstrel who had sung sodivinely, that I began to think her admiration too great to have beenawakened by a mere song. And then she asked me, if a king could have anobler air than he had; and she laughed, and said she would send yourmajesty to school to learn of him."

  "Damnable traitress!" exclaimed the king.

  The baroness paused, and retreated before the sudden fury which flashedfrom his eyes.

  "Go on!" cried he; "hide neither word nor circumstance, that myvengeance may lose nothing of its aim!"

  She proceeded:

  "Her majesty then talked of his beautiful eyes; so blue, she said, sotender, yet proud in their looks; and only a minstrel! 'De Pontoise,'added she, 'can you explain that?' I being rather, perhaps, too welllearned in the idle tales of our troubadours, heedlessly answered:'Perhaps he is some king in disguise, just come to look at yourmajesty's charms, and go away again!' She laughed much at thisconceit; said he must be one of Pharaoh's race then, and that had henot such white teeth, his complexion would be intolerable. Beingpleased to see her majesty in such spirits, and thinking no ill, Isportively answered, 'I read once of a certain Spanish lover, who wentto the court of Tunis to carry off the king's daughter; and he had soblack a face, that none suspected him to be other than the MoorishPrince of Granada; when lo! one day in a pleasure-party on the sea, hefell overboard, and came up with the fairest face in the world, andpresently acknowledged himself to be the Christian King of Castile.'The queen laughed at this story, but not answering me, went to bed.Next morning, when I entered her chamber, she received me with evenmore gayety, and putting aside my coiffure, said, 'Let me see if I canfind the devil's mark here!' 'What do you mean?' I asked, 'does yourmajesty take me for a witch?' 'Exactly so,' she replied; 'for a littlesprite told me last night that all you told me was true.' And then shebegan to tell me with many smiles, that she had dreamed the minstrelwas the very Prince of Portugal, whom, unseen, she had refused for theKing of England; and that he gave her a harp set with jewels. She thenwent to your majesty, and I saw no more of her till she sent for melate in the evening. She seemed very angry. 'You are faithful,' saidshe to me, 'and you know me. De Pontoise; you know me too proud todegrade myself, and too highminded to submit to tyranny. The Countessof Gloucester, with persuasions too like commands, will not allow me tosee the minstrel any more.' She then declared her determination thatshe would see him; that she would feign herself sick, and he shouldcome and sing to her when she was alone; and that she was sure he wastoo modest to presume on her condescension. I said something todissuade her, but she overruled me; and, shame to myself, I consentedto assist her. She embraced me, and gave me a letter to convey to him,which I did, by slipping it beneath the ornaments of the handle of herlute, which I sent as an excuse for the minstrel to tune. It was toacquaint him with her intentions, and this night he was to have visitedher apartment!"

  During this recital the king sat with compressed lips listening, butwith a countenance proclaiming the collecting tempest within--changingto livid paleness or portentous fire, at almost every sentence. Onmentioning the letter, he clinched his hand, as if then he grasped thethunderbolt. The lords immediately apprehended that this was theletter which Soulis found.

  "And is this all you know of the affair?" inquired Percy, seeing thatshe made a pause. "And enough, too?" cried Soulis, "to blast the mostvaunted chastity in Christendom."

  "Take the woman hence," cried the king, in a burst of wrath, that gavehis voice a preternatural force, which yet resounded from the vaultedroof, while he added--"Never let me see her traitor face again!" Thebaroness withdrew in terror; and Edward, calling Sir Piers Gaveston,commanded him to place
himself at the head of a double guard, and go inperson to bring the object of his officious introduction to meet thepunishment due to his crime. "For," cried the king, "be he prince orpeasant, I will see him hanged before my eyes, and then return hiswanton paramour, branded with infamy, to her disgraced family!"

  Soulis now suggested that, as the delinquent was to be found withBruce, most likely that young nobleman was privy to his designs. "Weshall see to him hereafter," replied the king; "meanwhile, look that Iam obeyed."

  The moment this order passed the king's lips, Gloucester, now notdoubting the queen's guilt, hastened to warn Bruce of what hadoccurred, that he might separate himself from the crime of a man whoappeared to have been under his protection. But when he found that theaccused was no other than the universally feared, universally beloved,and generous Wallace, all other considerations were lost in the desireof delivering him from the impending danger. He knew the means, and hedid not hesitate to employ them.

  During the recital of this narrative, Gloucester narrowly observed theauditor, and the ingenuous bursts of his indignation, and the horror heevinced at the crime he was suspected of having committed, the earl,while more fully convinced of his innocence, easily conceived how thequeen's sentiments for him might have gone no further than a childishadmiration, very pardonable in a guileless creature hardly more thansixteen.

  "See," cried Wallace, "the power which lies with the describer ofactions! The chaste mind of your countess saw nothing in the conductof the queen but thoughtless simplicity. The contaminated heart of theBaroness de Pontoise descried passion in every word, wantonness inevery movement; and, judging of her mistress by herself, she haswrought this mighty ruin. How, then, does it behove virtue to admitthe virtuous only to her intimacy: association with the vicious makesher to be seen in their colors! Impress your king with thisself-evident conclusion; and were it not for endangering the safety ofBruce, the hope of my country, I myself would return and stake my lifeon proving the innocence of the Queen of England. But if a letter,with my word of honor, could convince the king--"

  "I accept the offer," interrupted Gloucester, "I am too warmly thefriend of Bruce--too truly grateful to you--to betray either intodanger; but from Sunderland, whither I recommend you to go, and thereembark for France, write the declaration you mention, and inclose it tome. I can contrive that the king shall have your letter withoutsuspecting by what channel; and then, I trust, all will be well."

  During this discourse, they passed on through the vaulted passage,till, arriving at a wooden crucifix which marked the boundary of thedomain of Durham, Gloucester stopped.

  "I must not go further. Should I prolong my stay from the castleduring the search for you, suspicion may be awakened. You musttherefore proceed alone. Go straight forward, and at the extremity ofthe vault you will find a flag stone, surmounted like the one by whichwe descended; raise it, and it will let you into the cemetery of theAbbey of Fincklay. One end of that burying-place is always open to theeast. Thence you will emerge to the open world; and may it in future,noble Wallace, ever treat you according to your unequaled merits.Farewell!"

  The earl turned to retrace his steps, and Wallace pursued his waythrough the rayless darkness toward the Fincklay extremity of thevault.