Chapter LXXVIII.
Banks of the Eske.
A vague suspicion of the regent and his thanes, and yet a panic-struckpusillanimity, which shrunk from supporting that Wallace whom thosethanes chose to abandon, carried the spirit of slavery from theplatform before the council tent, to the chieftains who thronged theranks of Ruthven, and even to the perversion of some few who hadfollowed the golden-haired standard of Bothwell. The brave troops ofLanark (which the desperate battle of Dalkeith reduced to not more thansixty men) alone remained unmoved; so catching is the quailing spiritof doubt, abjectness, and fearful submission.
In the moment when the indignant Ruthven saw his Perthshire legionsrolling off toward the trumpet of Le de Spencer, Scrymgeour placedhimself at the head of the men of Lanark. Unfurling the banner ofScotland, he marched with a steady step to the tent of Bothwell,whither he did not doubt that Wallace had retired. He found himassuaging the impassioned grief of Edwin, and striving to moderate thevehement wrath of the faithful Murray, "Pour not out the energy of yoursoul upon these worthless men!" said he; "leave them to the fates theyseek--the fates they have incurred by the innocent blood shed this day!The few brave hearts who yet remain loyal to this country, areinsufficient to stem at this spot the torrent of corruption. Retirebeyond the Forth, my friend. Rally all true Scots around Huntingtower.Let the royal inmate proclaim himself, and, at the foot of theGrampians, lock the gates of the Highlands upon our enemies. Fromthose bulwarks he will issue in strength, and Scotland may again befree!"
"Free, but never more honored!" cried Edwin; "never more beloved by me!Ungrateful, treacherous, base land," added he, starting on his feet,and raising his clasped hands with the vehement abjuration of anindignant spirit; "oh, that the salt sea would ingulf thee atonce--that thy name and thy ingratitude could be no more remembered! Iwill never wear a sword for her again."
"Edwin!" ejaculated Wallace, in a reproachful, yet tender tone.
"Exhort me not to forgive my country!" returned he; "tell me to take mydeadliest foe to my breast--to pardon the assassin who strikes hissteel into my heart, and I will obey you; but to pardon Scotland forthe injury she has done to you--for the disgrace with which herself-debasement stains this cheek I never, never can! I abhor thesesons of Lucifer. Think not, noblest of masters, dearest of friends,"cried he, throwing himself at Wallace's feet, "that I will ever shinein the light of those envious stars which have displayed the sun! Notibi soli shall henceforth be the impress on my shield; to thee alonewill I ever turn; and till your beams restore your country and reviveme, the springing laurels of Edwin Ruthven shall whither where theygrew!"
Wallace folded him to his heart; a tear stood in his eyes, while hesaid in a low voice:
"If thou art mine, thou art Scotland's. Me, she rejects. MysteriousHeaven wills that I should quit my post; but for thee, Edwin, as arelic of the fond love I yet bear this wretched country, abide by her,bear with her, cherish her, defend her for my sake; and if Bruce lives,he will be to thee a second Wallace, a friend, a brother!"
Edwin listened, wept, and sobbed, but his heart was fixed; unable tospeak, he broke from his friend's arms, and hurried into an interiorapartment to subdue his emotions by pouring them forth to God.
Ruthven joined in determined opinion with Bothwell, that if ever acivil war could be sanctified, this was the time; and in spite of allthat Wallace could urge against the madness of contending for hissupremacy over a nation which would not yield him obedience, still theyremained firm in their resolution. Bruce they hardly dared hope couldrecover; and to relinquish the guiding hand of their best approvedleader at this crisis, was a sacrifice, they said, no earthly powershould compel them to make.
"So far from it," cried Lord Bothwell, dropping on his knees, andgrasping the cross hilt of his sword in both hands, "I swear by theblood of the crucified Lord of this ungrateful world, that should Brucedie, I will obey no other king of Scotland than William Wallace!"
Wallace turned ashy pale as he listened to this vow. At that momentScrymgeour entered, followed by the Lanark veterans, and all kneelingdown, repeated the oath of Bothwell; then starting up, called on theoutraged chief, by the unburied corpse of his murdered Ker, to leadthem forth and avenge them of his enemies.
When the agitation of his soul would allow him to speak to thisfaithful group, Wallace stretched his hands over them, and with suchtears as a father would shed who looks on the children he is to beholdno more, he said, in a subdued and faltering voice, "God will avengeour murdered friend; my sword is sheathed forever. May that holyBeing, who is the true and best King of the virtuous, always be presentwith you! I feel your love, and I appreciate it. But Bothwell,Ruthven, Lockhart, Scrymgeour, my faithful Lanark followers, leave meawhile to compose my scattered thoughts. Let me pass this night alone,and to-morrow you shall know the resolution of your grateful Wallace!"
The shades of evening were closing in, and the men of Lanark, firstobtaining his permission to keep guard before the wood which skirtedthe tent, respectfully kissing his hand, withdrew. Ruthven calledEdwin from the recess, whither he had retired to unburden his grief:but as soon as he heard that it was the resolution of his friends topreserve the authority of Wallace or to perish in the contest, thegloom passed from his fair brow, a smile of triumph parted his lips,and he exclaimed:
"All will be well again. We shall force this deluded nation torecognize her safety and her honor!"
While the determined chiefs held discourse so congenial with the wishesof the youthful knight, Wallace sat almost silent. He seemed revolvingsome momentous idea: he frequently turned his eyes on the speakers witha fixed regard, which appeared rather full of a grave sorrow thandemonstrative of any sympathy on the subjects of their discussion. OnEdwin he at times looked with penetrating tenderness; and when the bellfrom the neighboring convent sounded the hour of rest, he stretched outhis hand to him with a smile, which he wished should speak of comfortas well as of affection; but the soul spoke more eloquently than he hadintended: his smile was mournful, and the attempt to render itotherwise, like a transient light over a dark sepulcher, only the moredistinctly showed the gloom and melancholy within.
"And am I, too, to leave you?" said Edwin.
"Yes, my brother," replied Wallace; "I have much to do with my ownthoughts this night. We separate now to meet more gladly hereafter. Imust have solitude to arrange my plans. To-morrow you shall know them.Meanwhile farewell!"
As he spoke he pressed the affectionate youth to his breast, and,warmly grasping the hands of his three other friends, bade them anearnest adieu.
Bothwell lingered a moment at the tent-door, and looking back, "Letyour first plan be, that to-morrow you lead us to Lord Soulis'quarters, to teach the traitor what it is to be a Scot and a man!"
"My plans shall be deserving of my brave colleagues," replied Wallace;"and whether they be executed on this or the other side of the Forth,you shall find, my long-tried Bothwell, that Scotland's peace and thehonor of her best sons are the dearest considerations of your friend."
When the door closed, and Wallace was left alone, he stood for awhilein the midst of the tent, listening to the departing steps of hisfriends. When the last sound died on his ear, "I shall hear them nomore!" cried he; and throwing himself into a seat, he remained for anhour in a trance of grievous thoughts. Melancholy remembrances andprospects dire for Scotland pressed upon his surcharged heart. "It isto God alone I must confide my country!" cried he; "His mercy will pityits madness, and forgive its deep transgressions. My duty is to removethe object of ruin far from the power of any longer exciting jealousyor awakening zeal." With these words, he took a pen in his hand towrite to Bruce.
He briefly narrated the events which compelled him, if he would avoidthe grief of having occasioned a civil war, to quit his countryforever. The general hostility of the nobles, the unresistingacquiescence of the people in measures which menaced his life andsacrificed the freedom for which he had so long fought, convinced him,
he said, that his warlike commission was now closed. He was summonedby Heaven to exchange the field for the cloister; and to the monasteryat Chartres he was now hastening, to dedicate the remainder of his daysto the peace of a future world. He then exhorted Bruce to confide inthe Lords Ruthven and Bothwell, as his soul would commune with hisspirit, for he would find them true unto death. He counseled him, asthe leading measure to circumvent the treason of Scotland's enemies, togo immediately to Kilchurn Castle, where he knew resources would be;for Loch-awe, who retired thither on the last approach of De Warenne,meaning to call out his vassals for that emergency, needed it not then;for the battle of Dalkeith was fought and gained before they couldleave their heights, and the victor did not want them afterward. Touse those brave and simple-hearted men for his establishment on thethrone of his kingdom, Wallace advised Bruce. And so, amidst thenatural fortresses of the Highlands, he might recover his health,collect his friends, and openly proclaim himself. "Then," added he,"when Scotland is your oqn, let its bulwarks be its mountains and itspeople's arms. Dismantle and raze to the ground the castles of thosebase chiefs who have only embattled them to betray and enslave theircountry." Though intent on these political suggestions, he ceased notto remember his own brave engines of war; and he earnestly conjured hisprince that he would wear the valiant Kirkpatrick as a buckler on hisheart; that he would place Scrymgeour with his Lanark veterans, and thefaithful Grimsby next him as his body-guard; and that he would love andcherish the brave and tender Edwin for his sake. "When my prince andfriend receives this," added he, "Wallace shall have bidden an eternalfarewell to Scotland; but his heart will be amidst its hills. My king,and the friends most dear to me will still be there! The earthly partof my beloved wife rests within its bosom! But I go to rejoin hersoul; to meet it in the vigils of days consecrated wholly to theblessed Being in whose presence she rejoices forever. This is no saddestiny, my dear Bruce. Our Almighty Captain recalls me from dividingwith you the glory of maintaining the liberty of Scotland, but hebrings me closer to himself: I leave the plains of Gilgal to tread withhis angel the courts of my God. Mourn not, then, my absence; for myprayers will be with you till we are again united in the only placewhere you can fully know me as I am--thine and Scotland's never-dyingfriend! Start not at the bold epithet. My body may sink into thegrave, but the affections of my immortal spirit are eternal as itsessence, and, in earth or in heaven, I am ever yours.
"Should the endearing Helen--my heart's sister--be near your couch whenyou read this, tell her that Wallace, in idea, presses her virgin cheekwith a brother's farewell; and from his inmost soul he blesses her."
Messages of respectful adieus he sent to Isabella, Lady Ruthven, andthe sage of Ercildown; and then kneeling down in that posture, he wrotehis last invocations for the prosperity and happiness of Bruce.
This letter finished, with a more tranquil mind he addressed LordRuthven; detailing to him his reasons for leaving such faithful friendsso clandestinely; and after mentioning his purpose of proceeding toFrance, he ended with those expressions of gratitude which the worthychief so well deserved; and exhorting him to transfer his public zealfor him to the maguanimous and royal Bruce, closed the letter withbegging him, for the sake of his friend, his king, and his country, toreturn immediately with all his followers to Huntingtower, and there torally round their prince. His letter to Scrymgeour spoke nearly thesame language. But when he began to write to Bothwell, to bid him thatfarewell which his heart foreboded would be forever in this world--topart from this, his steady companion in arms, his dauntless champion!he lost some of his composure; and his handwriting testified theemotion of his mind. How, then, was he shaken when he addressed theyoung and devoted Edwin, the brother of his soul? He dropped the penfrom his hand. At that moment he felt all he was going to relinquish,and he exclaimed, "Oh, Scotland! my ungrateful country; what is it youdo? Is it thus that you repay your most faithful servants? Is it notenough that the wife of my bosom, the companion of my youth, should betorn from me by your enemies; but your hand must wrest from my bereavedheart its every other solace? You snatch from me my friends; you woulddeprive me of my life. To preserve you from that crime, I imbitter thecup of death; I go far from the tombs of my fathers--from the grave ofmy Marion, where I have fondly hoped to rest!" His head sunk on hisarm; his heart gave way under the pressure of accumulated regrets, andfloods of tears poured from his eyes. Deep and frequent were hissighs--but none answered him. Friendship was far distant; and wherewas that gentle being who would have soothed his sorrow on her bosom?She it was he lamented. "Dreary, dreary solitude!" cried he, lookingaround him with an aghast perception of all that he had lost! "how haveI been mocked for these three long years! What is renown? what theloud acclaim of admiring throngs? what the loud acclaim of admiringthrongs? what the bended knees of worshiping gratefulness but breathand vapor! It seems to shelter the mountain's top; the blast comes; itrolls from its sides; and the lonely hill is left to all the storm! Sostand I, my Marion, when bereft of thee. In weal or woe, thy smiles,thy warm embrace, were mine; my head reclined on that faithful breast,and still I found my home, my heaven. But now, desolate and alone,ruin is around me. Destruction waits on all who would steal one pangfrom the racked heart of William Wallace!--even pity is no more for me.Take me, then, O Power of Mercy!" cried he, stretching forth hishands, "take me to Thyself!"
At these words, a peal of thunder burst on his ear, and seemed to rollover his tent, till, passing off toward the west, it died away in longand solemn reverberation. Wallace rose from his knee, on which he hadsunk at this awful response to his Heaven-directed adjuration. "Thoucallest me, my Father!" cried he, with a holy confidence dilating hissoul. "I go from the world to Thee! I come, and before Thy altarsknow no human weakness."
In a paroxysm of sacred enthusiasm he rushed from the tent, and,reckless whither he went, struck into the depths of Roslyn woods. Withthe steps of the wind he pierced their remotest thickets. He reachedtheir boundary--it was traversed by a rapid stream, but that did notstop his course; he sprung over it, and, ascending its moonlight bank,was startled by the sound of his name. Grimsby, attended by a youth,stood before him. The veteran expressed amazement at meeting hismaster alone at this hour, unhelmeted and unarmed, and in so dangerousa direction. "The road," said he, "between this and Stirling is besetwith your enemies." Instead of noticing this information, Wallaceinquired what news he brought from Huntingtower. "The worst," said he."By this time the royal Bruce is no more!" Wallace gaspedconvulsively, and fell against a tree. Grimsby paused. In a fewminutes the heart-struck chief was able to speak. "Listen not to mygroans for unhappy Scotland!" cried he; "show me all that is in thislast vial of wrath."
Grimsby informed him that Bruce being so far recovered as to have lefthis sick chamber for the family apartment, while he was sitting withthe ladies, a letter was brought to Lady Helen. She opened it, read afew lines, and fell senseless into the arms of her sister. Brucesnatched the packet, but not a word did he speak till he had perused itto the end. It was from the Countess Strathearn, written in thetriumph of revenge, cruelly exulting in what she termed thedemonstration of Wallace's guilt; congratulating herself on having beenthe primary means of discovering it, and boasting that his once adoredScotland now held him in such detestation as to have doomed him to die.It was this denunciation which had struck to the soul of Helen; andwhile the anxious Lady Ruthven removed her inanimate form into anotherroom, Bruce read the barbarous triumphs of this disappointed woman."No power on earth can save him now," continued she; "your doting heartmust yield him, Helen, to another rest than your bridal chamber. Hisiron breast has met with others as adamantine as his own. A hypcrite!he feels not pity; he knows no beat of human sympathies; and like arock, he falls, unpitied, undeplored--undeplored by all but you, lost,self-deluded girl! My noble lord, the princely De Warenne, informs methat William Wallace would be burned as a double traitor in England,and a price is now set upon his head in Scotland! henc
e, there issafety for him no more. Those his base-born heart has outraged shallbe avenged; and his cries for mercy, who will answer? No voice onearth! None dare support the man whom friends and enemies abandon todestruction!"
"Yes," cried Bruce, starting from his seat, "I will support him, thoudamned traitress! Bruce will declare himself! Bruce will throwhimself before his friend, and in his breast receive every arrow meantfor that godlike heart! Yes," cried he, glancing on the terrifiedlooks of Isabella, who believed that his delirium was returned. "Iwould snatch him in these arms, from their murderous flames, did allthe fiends of hell guard their infernal fire!" Not a word more did heutter, but darting from the apartment, was soon seen before thebarbican-gate, armed from head to foot. Grimsby stood there, to whomhe called to bring him a horse, "for that the Light of Scotland was indanger." Grimsby, who understood by that term, his beloved master wasin peril, instantly obeyed; and Bruce, as instantly mourning, struckhis rowels into the horse, and was out of sight ere Grimsby could reachhis stirrup to follow.
But that faithful soldier speeded after him like the win, and came inview of Bruce just as he was leaping a chasm in the mountain path. Thehorse struck his heel against a loose stone, and it giving way, he fellheadlong into the deep ravine. At the moment of his disappearance,Grimsby rushed toward the spot, and saw the animal struggling in theagonies of death at the bottom. Bruce lay insensible, amongst somebushes which grew nearer the top. With difficulty the honestEnglishman got him dragged to the surface of the hill; and finding allattempts to recover him ineffectual, he laid him on his own beast, andso carried him slowly back to the castle. The assiduities of the sageof Ercildown restored him to life, but not to recollection. "The feverreturned on him, with a delirium, so hopeless of recovery," continuedGrimsby, "that the Lady Helen, who again seems like an inspired angelamongst us, has sent me with this youth to implore you to come toHuntingtower, and there embattle yourself against your own and yourprince's enemies."
"Send me," cried Walter Hay, grasping Wallace's hand, "send me back toLady Helen, and let me tell her that our benefactor, the best guardianof our country, will not abandon us! Should you depart, Scotland'sgenius will go with you! again she must sink, again she will be inruins. De Valence will regain possession of my dear lady, and you willnot be near to save her."
"Grimsby, Walter, my friends!" cried Wallace, in an agitated voice, "Ido not abandon Scotland; she drives me from her. Would she haveallowed me, I would have borne her in my arms until my latest gasp; butit must not be so. I resign her into the Almighty hands, to which Icommit myself; they will also preserve the Lady Helen from violence. Icannot forego my trust, for the Bruce also! If he live, he willprotect her for my sake; and should he died, Bothwell and Ruthven willcherish her for their own."
"But you will return with us to Huntingtower," cried Grimsby."Disguised in these peasant's garments, which we have brought for thepurpose, you may pass through the legions of the regent with perfectsecurity."
"Let me implore you, if not for your own sake, for ours! Pity ourdesolation, and save yourself for them who can know no safety when youare gone!"
Walter clung to his arm while uttering this supplication. Wallacelooked tenderly upon him.
"I would save myself; and I will, please God," said he; "but by nomeans unworthy of myself. I go, but not under any disguise. Openlyhave I defended Scotland, and openly will I pass through her lands.The chalice of Heaven consecrated me the champion of my country, and noScot dare lift a hostile hand against this anointed head."
The soul of Wallace swelled high, but devoutly, while uttering this.
"Whither you go," cried Grimsby, "let me follow you, in joy or insorrow!"
"And me, too, my benefactor!" rejoined Walter, "and when you look onus, think not that Scotland is altogether ungrateful!"
"My faithful friend," returned he, "whither I go, I must go alone. Andas a proof of your love, grant me your obedience this once. Restamongst these thickets till morning. At sunrise, repair to our camp;there you will know my destination. But till Bruce proclaims himselfat the head of the country's armies, for my sake never reveal to mortalman, that he who lies debilitated by sickness at Huntingtower, is otherthan Sir Thomas de Longueville."
"Rest we cannot," replied Grimsby; "but still we will obey our master.You command me to adhere to Bruce; to serve him till the hour of hisdeath! I will--but should he die, then I may seek you, and be againyour faithful servant?"
"You will find me before the cross of Christ," returned Wallace, "withsaints my fellow-soldiers, and God my only King! Till then, Grimsby,farewell. Walter, carry my fidelity to your mistress. She will sharemy thoughts, with the Blessed Virgin of Heaven, for in all my prayersshall her name be remembered."
Grimsby and Walter, struck by the holy solemnity of his manner, fell ontheir knees before him. Wallace raised his hands:
"Bless, O Father of Light!" cried he, "bless this unhappy land, whenWallace is no more; let his memory be lost in the virtues andprosperity of Robert Bruce!"
Grimsby sunk on the earth, and gave way to a burst of manly sorrow.Walter hid his weeping face in the folds of his master's mantle, whichhad fallen from his shoulders to the ground. Lost in grief, no thoughtseemed to exist in the young man's heart but the resolution to liveonly for his persecuted benefactor; and to express this vow with allthe energy of determined devotedness, he looked up to seek the face ofWallace--but Wallace had disappeared; and all that remained, to thebreaking hearts of his faithful servants, was the tartan plaid whichthey had clasped in their arms.