The Scottish Chiefs
Chapter LXII.
The Widow's Cell.
The entrance of the old woman, about an hour after sunrise, awakenedWallace; but Baliol continued to sleep. On the chief's opening hiseyes, Bruce with a smile, stretched out his hand to him. Wallace rose;and whispering the widow to abide by her guest till they should return,the twain went forth to enjoy the mutual confidence of friendship. Awood opened its umbrageous arms at a little distance; and thither, overthe dew-bespangled grass, they bent their way. The birds sung fromtree to tree; and Wallace, seating himself under an overhanging beech,which canopied a narrow winding of the River Seine, listened withmingled pain and satisfaction, to the communications which Bruce had toimpart relative to the recent scenes at Durham.
"So rapid had been the events," observed the Scottish prince, when heconcluded his narrative, "that all appears to me a troubled vision; andblessed, indeed, was the awaking of last night, when your voice,sounding from the room below that in which I slept, called me toembrace my best friend, as became the son of my ancestors--free, andready to renew the brightness of their name!"
The discourse next turned to their future plans. Wallace, narratinghis adventure with the Red Reaver, proposed that the favor he shouldask in return (the King of France being earnest to bestow on him someespecial mark of gratitude), should be his interference with Edward togrant the Scots a peaceable retention of their rights.
"In that case, my prince," said he, "you will take possession of yourkingdom with the olive-branch in your hand."
Bruce smiled, but shook his head.
"And what then will Robert Bruce be? A king to be sure!--but a kingwithout a name! Who won me my kingdom? Who accomplished this peace?Was it not William Wallace? Can I then consent to mount the throne ofmy ancestors--so poor, so inconsiderable a creature? I am not jealousof your fame, Wallace; I glory in it; for you are more to me than thelight to my eyes; but I would prove my right to the crown by deedsworthy of a sovereign. Till I have shown myself in the field againstScotland's enemies, I cannot consent to be restored to my inheritance,even by you."
"And is it in war alone," returned Wallace, "that you can show deedsworthy of a sovereign? Think a moment, my honored prince, and thenscorn your objection. Look on the annals of history, nay, on the dailyoccurrences of the world, and see how many are brave and completegenerals; how few wise legislators; how few such efficient rulers as toprocure obedience to the laws, and so give happiness to their people.This is the commission of a king--to be the representative on earth ofthe Father who is in heaven. Here is exercise for courage, forenterprise, for fortitude, for every virtue which elevates thecharacter of a man, this is the godlike jurisdiction of a sovereign.TO go to the field, to lead his people to scenes of carnage, is often aduty in kings; but it is one of those necessities, which, more than thetrifling circumstances of sustaining nature by sleep and food, remindsthe conqueror of the degraded state of mortality.** The one shows theweakness of the body, the other, the corruption of the soul. For, howfar must man have fallen beneath his former heavenly nature before hecan delight in the destruction of his fellow-men! Lament not, then,brave and virtuous prince, that I have kept your hands from the stainsof blood. Show yourself beyond the vulgar apprehension of what isfame; and, conscious of the powers with which the Creator has endowedyou, assume your throne with the dignity that is their due. Whether itbe to the cabinet or to the field that He calls you to act, obey; andrely on it, a name greater than that of the hero of Macedon will awaitRobert, King of Scots!"
**Alexander the Great one day said to his friend Hephaestion, that "thebusiness of eating and drinking compelled him to remember, and with asense of abasement, his mortal nature, although he was the son ofAmmon."
"You almost persuade me," returned Bruce; "but let us see Philip, andthen I will decide."
As morning was now advanced, the friends turned toward the cottage,intending to see Baliol safe, and then proceed together to Guienne tothe rescue of Lady Helen. That accomplished, they would visit Parisand hear its monarch's determination.
On entering the humble mansion they found Baliol awake, and anxiouslyinquiring of the widow what was become of the two knights. At sight ofthem he stretched out his hands to both, and said he should be able totravel in a few hours. Wallace proposed sending to Rouen for a litterto carry him the more easily thither. "No," cried Baliol with a frown;"Rouen shall never see me again within its walls. It was coming fromthence that I lost my way last night; and though my poor servants wouldgladly have returned with me sooner than see me perish in the storm;yet rather would I have been found dead on the road, a reproach to thekings who have betrayed me, than have taken an hour's shelter in thatinhospitable city."
While the friends took the simple breakfast prepared for them by thewidow, Baliol related, that in consequence of the interference ofPhilip le Bel with Edward, he had been released from the Tower ofLondon and sent to France, but under an oath never to leave thatcountry. Philip gave the exiled king the castle of Galliard for aresidence; where for some time he enjoyed the shadow of royalty, havingstill a sort of court composed of his own noble followers, some of whomwere now with him, and the barons of the neighborhood. Philip allowedhim guards and a splendid table. But on the peace being signed betweenFrance and England, in order that Edward might give up his ally theEarl of Flanders to his offended liege lord, the French monarchconsented to relinquish the cause of Baliol, and though he shouldcontinue to grant him a shelter in his dominions, he removed from himall the appendages of a king.
"Accordingly," continued Baliol, "the guard was taken from my gates, myestablishment reduced to that of a private nobleman, and no longerhaving it in my power to gratify the avidity or to flatter the ambitionof those who came about me, I was soon left nearly alone. All but thepoor old lieges whom you see, and who had been faithful to me throughevery change of my life, instantly deserted the forlorn Baliol. Invain I remonstrated with Philip. Either my letters never reached him,or he disdained to answer the man whose claims he had abandoned.Things were in this state when, the other day, and English lord foundit convenient to bring his suit to my castle. I received him withhospitality, but soon found that what I gave in courtesy he seized as aright. In the true spirit of his master Edward he treated me more likethe keeper of an hostel than a generous host. And on my attempting toplead with him for a Scottish lady whom his turbulent passions haveforced from her country and reduced to a pitiable state of illness, hederided my arguments, sarcastically telling me that had I taken care ofmy kingdom, the door would not have been left open for him to steal itsfairest prize--"
Wallace interrupted him: "Heaven grant you may be speaking of Lord deValence and Lady Helen Mar."
"I am," replied Baliol. "They are now at Galliard, and as her illnessseems a lingering one, De Valence declared to me his intentions ofcontinuing there. He seized upon the best apartments, and carriedhimself with so much haughtiness that, provoked beyond endurance, Iordered my horse and, accompanied by my honest courtiers, rode to Rouento obtain redress from the governor. But the unworthy Frenchmanadvised me to go back, and by flattering De Valence try to regain thefavor of Edward. I retired in indignation, determined to assert my ownrights in my own castle, but the storm overtook me, and being forsakenby false friends, I am saved by generous enemies."
Wallace explained his errand respecting Lady Helen, and anxiouslyinquired of Baliol whether he meant to return to Galliard?
"Immediately," replied he; "go with me, and if the lady consents (whichI do not doubt, for she scorns his prayers for her hand, and passesnight and day in tears), I engage to assist in her escape."
Baliol then advised they should not all return to the castle together,the sight of two knights of their appearance accompanying his hostbeing likely to alarm De Valence.
"The quietest way," continued the deposed king, "is the surest. Followme at a short distance, and toward the shadows of evening, knock at thegates and request a night's entertainment. I w
ill grant it, and thenyour happy destiny, ever fortunate Wallace, must do the rest."
This scheme being approved, a litter of hurdles was formed for theinvalid monarch, and the old woman's pallet spread upon it.
"I will return it to you, my good widow," said Baliol, "and with proofsof my gratitude."
The two friends assisted the king to rise. When he set his food on thefloor, he felt so surprisingly better that he though he could ride thejourney. Wallace overruled this wish, and with Bruce supported hisemaciated figure toward the door. The widow stood to see her guestsdepart. As Baliol mounted the litter, he slid a piece of gold into herhand. Wallace saw not what the king had given and gave a purse as hisreward. Bruce had naught to bestow. He had left Durham with little,and that little was expended.
"My good widow," said he, "I am poor in everything but gratitude. Inlieu of gold you must accept my prayers."
"May they, sweet youth," replied she, "return on your own head, givingyou bread from the barren land and water out of sterile rock!"
"And have you no blessing for me, mother?" asked Wallace, turning roundand regarding her with an impressive look; "some spirit you wist notof, speaks in your words."
"Then it must be a good spirit," answered she; "for all around mebetokens gladness. The Scripture saith, 'Be kind to the wayfaring man,for many have so entertained angels unawares!' Yesterday at this timeI was the poorest of all the daughters of charity.
"Last night I opened my doors in the storm, you enter and give meriches; he follows and endows me with his prayers! Am I not thengreatly favored by Him who dispenseth to all who trust in Him. Hismercy and your goodness shall not be hidden; for from this day forth Iwill light a fire each night in a part of my house whence it may beseen on every side from a great distance. Like you, princely knight,whose gold will make it burn, it shall shine afar, and give light andcomfort to all who approach it."
"And when you look on it," said Wallace, "tell your beads for me. I ama son of war, and it may blaze when my vital spark is expiring."
The widow paused, gazed on him steadily, and then burst into tears.
"Is it possible," cried she, "that beautiful face may be laid in dust,that youthful form lay cold in clay, and these aged limbs survive tolight a beacon to your memory!--and it shall arise! it shall burn likea holy flame, an incense to Heaven for the soul of him who has succoredthe feeble, and made the widow's heart to sing for joy!"
Wallace pressed the old woman's withered hand; Bruce did the same. Shesaw them mount their horses, and when they disappeared from her eyes,she returned into her cottage and wept.