Chapter LXI.
Normandy.
Wallace, having separated from the Prince Royal of France, pursued hissolitary way toward the capital of Normandy, till night overtook himere he was aware. Clouds so obscured the sky, that not a star wasvisible; and his horse, terrified at the impenetrable darkness, and thedifficulties of the path, which lay over a barren and stony moor,suddenly stopped. This aroused Wallace from a long fit of musing tolook around him; but on which side lay the road to Rouen, he could formno guess. To pass the night in so exposed a spot might be dangerous,and spurring the animal, he determined to push onward.
He had ridden nearly another hour, when the dead silence of the scenewas broken by the roll of distant thunder. Then forked lightningshooting from the horizon showed a line of country unmarked by anyvestige of human habitation. Still he proceeded. The stormapproached, till, breaking in peals over his head, it discharged suchsheets of livid fire at his feet that the horse reared, and plungingamidst the blaze, flashed the light of his rider's armor on the eyes ofa troop of horsemen, who also stood under the tempest, gazing withaffright at the scene. Wallace, by the same transitory illumination,saw the travelers, as they seemed to start back at his appearance; and,mistaking their apprehension, he called to them, that his well-managed,though terrified steed, would do theirs no harm. One of them advancedand respectfully inquired of him the way to Rouen. Wallace repliedthat he was a stranger in this part of the country, and was alsoseeking that city. While he was yet speaking the thunder became moretremendous, and the lightning rolled in volumes along the ground, thehorses of the troop became restive, and one of them threw its rider.Cries of lamentation, mingling with the groans of the fallen person,excited the compassion of Wallace. He rode toward the spot from whenthe latter proceeded, and asked the nearest bystander (for several hadalighted) whether the unfortunate man was much hurt. The answerreturned was full of alarm for the sufferer, and anxiety to obtain someplace of shelter, for rain began to fall. In a few minutes itincreased to torrents, and the lightning ceasing, deepened the horrorsof the scene by preventing the likelihood of discovering any humanabode. The men gathered round their fallen companion bewailing theprospect of his perishing under these inclemencies; but Wallace cheeredthem by saying he would seek a shelter for their friend, and blow hisbugle when he had found one. With the word he turned his horse, and ashe galloped along, called aloud on any Christian man who might livenear, to open his doors to a dying traveler! After riding about in alldirections, he saw a glimmering light for a moment, and then all wasdarkness; but again he called aloud for charity! and a shrill femalevoice answered, "I am a lone woman, with already one poor traveler inmy house; but, for the Virgin's sake, I will open my door to you,whatever you may be." The good woman relighted her lamp, which therain had extinguished; and, on her unlatching the door, Wallace brieflyrelated what had happened, entreating her permission to bring theunfortunate person into the cottage. She readily consented; and givinghim a lantern to guide his way, he blew his bugle, which was instantlyanswered by so glad and loud a shout that it assured him his companionscould not be far distant, and that he must have made many a uselesscircuit before he had stopped at this charitable door.
The men directed him through the darkness by their voices, for thelantern threw its beams but a very little way, and, arriving at theirside, by his assistance the bruised traveler was brought to thecottage. It was a poor hovel; but the good woman had spread a cleanwooden coverlet over her own bed, in the inner chamber, and thitherWallace carried the invalid. He seemed in great pain, but his kindconductor answered their hostess' inquiries respecting him, with abelief that no bones were broken.
"But yet," cried she, "sad may be the effects of internal bruises on soemaciated a frame. I will venture to disturb my other guest, whosleeps in the loft, and bring down a decoction that I keep there. Itis made from simple herbs, and I am sure will be of service."
The old woman having shown to the attendants where they might put theirhorses under shelter of a shed which projected from the cottage,ascended a few steps to the chamber above. Meanwhile, the Scottishchief, assisted by one of the men, disengaged the sufferer from his wetgarments, and covered him with the blankets of the bed. Recovered torecollection by the comparative comfort of his bodily feelings, thestranger opened his eyes. He fixed them on Wallace, then lookedaround, and turned to Wallace again.
"Generous knight!" cried he, "I have nothing but thanks to offer forthis kindness. You seem to be of the highest rank, and yet havesuccored one who the world abjures!"
The knight returned a courteous answer, and the invalid, in a paroxysmof emotion, added:
"Can it be possible that a prince of France has dared to act contraryto his peers?"
Wallace, not apprehending what had given rise to this question,supposed the stranger's wits were disordered, and looked with thatinquiry toward the attendant. Just at that moment a step, more activethan that of their aged hostess, sounded above, and an exclamation ofsurprise followed it, in a voice that startled Wallace. He turnedhastily round, and a young man sprung from the cottage stairs into theapartment--joy danced in every feature, and the ejaculation,"Wallace!"--"Bruce!" burst at once from the hearts of the two friendsas they rushed into each other's arms. All else present was lost tothem in the delight of meeting after so perilous a separation--adelight not confined for its object to their individual selves, eachsaw in the other the hope of Scotland; and when they embraced, it wasnot merely with the ardor of friendship, but with that of patriotism,rejoicing in the preservation of its chief dependence.
While the chiefs spoke freely in their native tongue, before a peoplewho could not be supposed to understand them, the aged stranger on thebed reiterated his moans. Wallace, in a few words, telling Bruce themanner of his reencounter with the sick man, and his belief that he wasdisordered in his mind, drew toward the bed, and offered him some ofthe decoction which the woman now brought. The invalid drank it, andgazed earnestly, first on Wallace and then on Bruce. "Pierre,withdraw," cried he to his personal attendant. The man obeyed. "Sitdown by me, noble friends," said he to the Scottish chiefs, "and read alesson, which I pray ye lay to your hearts!" Bruce glanced a look atWallace that declared he was of his opinion. Wallace drew a stool,while his friend seated himself on the bed. The old woman, perceivingsomething extraordinary in the countenance of the bruised stranger,thought he was going to reveal some secret heavy on his mind, and alsowithdrew.
"You think my intellects are injured," returned he, turning to Wallace,"because I addressed you as one of the house of Philip! Those jeweledlilies round your helmet led me into the error; I never before saw themgranted to other than a prince of the blood. But think not, brave man,I respect you less, since I have discovered that you are not of therace of Philip--that you are other than a prince! Look on me--at thisemaciated form--and behold the reverses of all earthly grandeur! Thispalsied hand once held a scepter--these hollow temples were once boundwith a crown! He that used to be followed as the source of honor, asthe fountain of prosperity--with suppliants at his feet, and flatterersat his side--would now be left to solitude were it not for these fewfaithful servants, who, in spite of all changes, have preserved theirallegiance to the end. Look on me, chiefs, and behold him who was theKing of Scots!"
At this declaration, both Wallace and Bruce, struck with surprise andcompassion at meeting their ancient enemy reduced to such abjectmisery, with one impulse bowed their heads to him with an air ofreverence. The action penetrated the heart of Baliol. For when at themeeting and mutual exclamation of the two friends, he recognized inwhose presence he lay, he fearfully remembered that, by his basesubmissions, turning the scale of judgment in his favor, he haddefrauded the grandsire of the very Bruce now before him of a fairdecision on his rights to the crown! And when he looked on Wallace,who had preserved him from the effects of his accident, and brought himto a shelter from the raging terrors of the night, his consciencedoubly smote him! for
, from the hour of his elevation to that of hisdownfall, he had ever persecuted the family of Wallace; and, at thehour which was the crisis of her fate, had denied them the right ofdrawing their swords in defense of Scotland. He, her king, hadresigned her into the hands of an usurper; but Wallace, the injuredWallace, had arisen, like a star of light on the deep darkness of hercaptivity, and Scotland was once more free. In the tempest, the exiledmonarch had started at the blaze of the unknown knight's jeweledpanoply; at the declaration of his name he shrunk before the brightnessof his glory! and, falling back on the bed, he groaned aloud. To theseyoung men, so strangely brought before him, and both of whom he hadwronged, he determined immediately to reveal himself, and see whetherthey were equally resentful of injuries as those he had served hadproved ungrateful for benefits received. He spoke; and when, insteadof seeing the pair rise in indignation on his pronouncing his name,they bowed their heads and sat in respectful silence, his desolateheart expanded at once to admit the long-estranged emotion, and heburst into tears. He caught the hand of Bruce, who sat nearest to him,and, stretching out the other to Wallace, exclaimed, "I have notdeserved this goodness from either of you. Perhaps you two are theonly men now living whom I ever greatly injured; and you, excepting myfour poor attendants, are, perhaps, the only men living who wouldcompassionate my misfortunes!"
"These are lessons, king," returned Wallace, with reverence, "to fityou for a better crown. And never in my eyes did the descendant ofAlexander seem so worthy of his blood!"
The grateful monarch pressed his hand. Bruce continued to gaze on himwith a thousand awful thoughts occupying his mind. Baliol read in hisexpressive countenance the reflections which chained his tongue.
"Behold, how low is laid the proud rival of your grandfather!"exclaimed he, turning to Bruce. "I compassed a throne I could notfill. I mistook the robes, the homage, for the kingly dignity. Ibartered the liberties of my country for a crown I knew not how towear, and the insidious trafficker not only reclaimed it, but repaid mewith a prison. There I expiated my crime against the upright Bruce!Not one of all the Scottish lords who crowded Edward's court came tobeguile a moment of sorrow from their captive monarch. Lonely I lived,for the tyrant even deprived me of the comfort of seeing myfellow-prisoner, Lord Douglas--he whom attachment to my true interestshad betrayed to an English prison. I never saw him after the day ofhis being put into the Tower until that of his death." Wallaceinterrupted the afflicted Baliol with an exclamation of surprise."Yes," added he, "I myself closed his eyes. At that awful hour he hadpetitioned to see me, and the boon was granted. I went to him, andthen, with his dying breath, he spoke truths to me, which were indeedmessengers from Heaven! They taught me what I was, and what I mightbe. He died. Edward was then in Flanders, and you, brave Wallace,being triumphant in Scotland, and laying such a stress in yournegotiations for the return of Douglas, the Southron cabinet agreed toconceal his death, and, by making his name an instrument to excite yourhopes and fears, turn your anxiety for him to their own advantage."
A deep scarlet kindled over the face of Bruce. "With what a race haveI been so long connected! What mean subterfuges, what dastardlydeceits, for the leaders of a great nation to adopt! Oh, king!"exclaimed he, turning to Baliol, "if you have errors to atone for, whatthen must be the penalty of my sin, for holding so long with an enemyas vile as he is ambitious! Scotland! Scotland! I must weep tears ofblood for this!" He rose in agitation. Baliol followed him with hiseyes.
"Amiable Bruce! you too severely arraign a fault that was venial inyou. Your father gave himself to Edward, and his son accompanied thetribute."
Bruce vehemently answered, "If King Edward ever said that, he uttered afalsehood. My father loved him, confided in him, and the ingratebetrayed him! His fidelity was no gift of himself, in acknowledgmentof inferiority; it was the pledge of a friendship exchanged on equalterms on the fields of Palestine. And well did King Edward know thathe had no right over either my father or me; for in the moment hedoubted our attachment, he was aware of having forfeited it. He knewhe had no legal claim on us; and forgetting every law, human anddivine, he made us prisoners. But my father found liberty in thegrave, and I am ready to take a sure revenge in--" he would have added"Scotland," but he forbore to give the last blow to the unhappy Baliol,by showing him that his kingdom had indeed passed from him, and thatthe man was before him who might be destined to wield his scepter.Bruce paused, and sat down in generous confusion.
"Hesitate not," said Baliol, "to say where you will take your revenge!I know that the brave Wallace has laid open the way. Had I possessedsuch a leader of my troops, I should not now be a mendicant in thishovel; I should not be a creature to be pitied and despised. Wear him,Bruce--wear him in your heart's core. He gives the throne he mighthave filled."
"Make not that a subject of praise," cried Wallace, "which if I hadleft undone, would have stamped me a traitor. I have only performed myduty; and may the Holy Anointer of the hearts of kings guide Bruce tohis kingdom, and keep him there in peace and honor!"
Baliol rose in his bed at these words: "Bruce," said he, "approach menear." He obeyed. The feeble monarch turned to Wallace: "You havesupported what was my kingdom through its last struggles for liberty;put forth your hand and support its exiled sovereign in his last legalact." Wallace raised the king, so as to enable him to assume akneeling posture. Dizzy with the exertion, for a moment he rested onthe shoulder of the chief; and then looking up, he met the eyes ofBruce gazing on him with compassionate interest. The unhappy monarchstretched out his arms to Heaven: "May God pardon the injuries which myfatal ambition did to you and yours--the miseries I brought upon mycountry; and let your reign redeem my errors! May the spirit of wisdombless you, my son!" His hands were now laid, with pious fervor, on thehead of Bruce, who sunk on his knees before him. "Whatever rights Ihad to the crown of Scotland, by the worthlessness of my reign they areforfeited; and I resign all unto you, even to the participation of themere title of king. It has been as the ghost of my former self, as anaccusing spirit to me, but, I trust, an angel of light to you, it willconduct your people into all happiness!" Exhausted by his feelings, hesunk back into the arms of Wallace. Bruce, rising from his knees,poured a little of the herb-balsam into the king's mouth, and herevived. As Wallace laid him back on his pillows, he gazed wistfullyat him, and grasping his hand, said in a low voice: "How did I throw ablessing from me! But in those days, when I rejected your services atDunbar, I knew not the Almighty arm which brought the boy of Ellerslieto save his country! I scorned the patriot flame that spoke yourmission, and the mercy of Heaven departed from me!"**
**This renunciation of Baliol's in favor of Bruce is an historicalfact, and it was made in France.
Memory was now busy with the thoughts of Bruce. He remembered hisfather's weak, if not criminal devotion at that time to the interestsof Edward; he remembered his heart-wrung death; and looking at thedesolate old age of another of Edward's victims, his brave soul meltedto pity and regret, and he retired into a distant part of the room, toshed, unobserved, the tears he could not restrain. Wallace soon aftersaw the eyes of the exhausted king close in sleep; and cautious ofawakening him, he did not stir; but leaning against the thick oakenframe of the bed, was soon lost in as deep a repose.
After some time of complete stillness (for the old dame and theattendants were at rest in the outer chamber), Bruce, whose low sighswere echoed by the wind alone, which swept in gusts by the littlecasement, looked toward the abdicated monarch's couch. He sleptprofoundly, yet frequently started, as if disturbed by troubled dreams.Wallace moved not on his hard pillow; and the serenity of perfectpeace rested upon all his features.
"How tranquil is the sleep of the virtuous!" thought Bruce, as hecontemplated the difference between his state and that of Baliol;"there lies an accusing conscience; here rests one of the mostfaultless of created beings. It is, it is the sleep of innocence!Come, ye slanderers," continued he, mentally calling on those he had
left at Edward's court, "and tell me if an adulterer could look thuswhen he sleeps! Is there one trace of irregular passion about thatplacid mouth? Does one of those heavenly-composed features beartestimony to emotions which leave marks even when subdued? No, virtuehas set up her throne in that breast, and well may kings come to bow toit!"