The Scottish Chiefs
Chapter LXXX.
Huntingtower.
Lord Ruthven was yet musing, in fearful anxiety, on Wallace's solemnadieu, and the confirmation which the recitals of Grimsby and Hay hadbrought of his determined exile, when he was struck with a newconsternation by the flight of his son. A billet, which Edwin had leftwith Scrymgeour, who guessed not its contents, told his father that hewas gone to seek their friend, and to unite himself forever to hisfortunes.
Bothwell not less eager to preserve Wallace to the world, with anintent to persuade him to at least abandon his monastic project, setoff direct for France, hoping to arrive before his friend, and engagethe French monarch to assist in preventing so grievous a sacrifice.Ruthven, meanwhile, fearful that the unarmed Wallace and theself-regardless Edwin might fall into the hands of the venal wretchesnow widely dispersed to seize the chief and his adherents, sent out theveterans, in divers disguises, to pursue the roads it was probable hemight take, and finding him, guard him safely to the coast. TillRuthven should receive accounts of their success, he forbore to forwardthe letter which Wallace had left for Bruce, or to increase thesolicitude of the already anxious inhabitants of Huntingtower with anyintimation of what had happened. But on the fourth day, Scrymgeour andhis party returned with the horrible narrative of Lumloch.
After the murder of his youthful friend, Wallace had been loaded withirons, and conveyed, so unresistingly that he seemed in a stupor, onboard a vessel, to be carried without loss of time to the Tower ofLondon. Sir John Monteith, though he never ventured into his sight,attended as the accuser, who, to put a visor on cruelty, was to swearaway his victim's life. The horror and grief of Ruthven at thesetidings were unutterable; and Scrymgeour, to turn the tide of thebereaved father's thoughts to the inspiring recollection of the earlyglory of his son, proceeded to narrate, that he found the beauteousremains in the hovel, but bedecked with flowers by the village girls.They were weeping over it, and lamenting the pitiless heart which couldslay such youth and loveliness. To bury him in so obscure a spot,Scrymgeour would not allow, and he had sent Stephen Ireland with thesacred corpse to Dumbarton, with orders to see him entombed in thechapel of that fortress.
"It is done," continued the worthy knight, "and those towers he sobravely scaled with stand forever the monument of Edwin Ruthven."
"Scrymgeour," said the stricken father, "the shafts fall thick upon us,but we must fulfill our duty."
Cautious of inflicting too heavy a blow on the fortitude of his wifeand of Helen, he commanded Grimsby and Hay to withhold from everybodyat Huntingtower the tidings of its young lord's fate; but he believedit his duty not to delay the letter of Wallace to Bruce, and thedreadful information to him of Monteith's treachery. Ruthven ended hisshort epistle to his wife by saying he should soon follow hismessenger; but that at present he could not bring himself to entirelyabandon the Lowlands to even a temporary empire of the seditious chiefs.
Ruthven ended his short epistle to his wife by saying he should soonfollow his messenger; but that at present he could not bring himself toentirely abandon the Lowlands to even a temporary empire of theseditious chiefs.
On Grimsby's arrival at Huntingtower he was conducted immediately toBruce. Some cheering symptoms having appeared that morning, he hadjust exchanged his bed for a couch when Grimsby entered the room. Thecountenance of the honest Southron was the harbinger of his news. LadyHelen started from her seat, and Bruce, stretching out his arms,eagerly caught the packets the soldier presented. Isabella inquired ifall were well with Sir William Wallace; but ere he could make ananswer, Lady Ruthven ran breathless into the room, holding out the openletter brought by Hay to her. Bruce had just read the first line ofhis, which announced the captivity of Wallace; and, with a groan thatpierced through the souls of every one present, he made an attempt tospring from the couch; but in the act he reeled, and fell back in afearful but mute mental agony. The apprehensive heart of Helen guessedsome direful explanation; she looked with speechless inquiry upon heraunt and Grimsby. Isabella and Ercildown hastened to Bruce; and LadyRuthven being too much appalled in her own feelings to think for amoment on the aghast Helen, hurriedly read to her from Lord Ruthven'sletter the brief but decisive account of Wallace's dangeroussituation--his seizure and conveyance to the Tower of England. Helenlistened without a word; her heart seemed locked within her; her brainwas on fire; and gazing fixedly on the floor while she listened, allelse that was transacted around her passed unnoticed.
The pangs of a convulsion fit did not long shackle the determinedBruce. The energy of his spirit struggling to gain the side of Wallacein this his extreme need (for he well knew Edward's implacable soul),roused him from his worse than swoon. With his extended arms dashingaway the restoratives with which both Isabella and Ercildown hung overhim, he would have leaped on the floor had not the latter held him down.
"Withhold me not!" cried he; "this is not the time for sickness andindulgence. My friend is in the fangs of the tyrant, and shall I liehere? No, not for all the empires in the globe will I be detainedanother hour."
Isabella, affrighted at the furies which raged in his eyes, but yetmore terrified at the perils attendant on his desperate resolution,threw herself at his feet, and implored him to stay for her sake.
"No," cried Bruce, "not for thy life, Isabella, which is dearer to methan my own! not to save this ungrateful country from the doom itmerits would I linger one moment from the side of him who has fought,bled, and suffered for me and mine, who is now treated with ignominy,and sentenced to die, for my delinquency! Had I consented to proclaimmyself on my landing, secure with Bruce the king envy would have fearedto strike; but I must first win a fame like his! And while I lay here,they tore him from the vain and impotent Bruce! But, Almighty pardonerof my sins!" cried he, with vehemence, "grant me strength to wrest himfrom their grip, and I will go barefoot to Palestine, to utter all mygratitude!"
Isabella sunk weeping into the arms of her aunt. And the venerableErcildown, wishing to curb an impetuosity which could only involve itsgenerous agent in a ruin deeper than that it sought to revenge, withmore zeal than judgment, urged to the prince the danger into which suchboundless resentment would precipitate his own person. At thisintimation the impassioned Bruce, stung to the soul that such anargument could be expected to have weight with him, solemnly bent hisknees, and clasping his sword, vowed before Heaven "either to releaseWallace or--" to share his fate! he would have added; but Isabella,watchful of his words, suddenly interrupted him, by throwing herselfwildly on his neck, and exclaiming:
"Oh, say not so! Rather swear to pluck the tyrant from his throne;that the scepter of my Bruce may bless England, as it will yet do thisunhappy land!"
"She says right!" ejaculated Ercildown, in a prophetic transport; "andthe scepter of Bruce, in the hands of his offspring, shall bless theunited countries to the latest generations! The walls of separationshall then be thrown down, and England and Scotland be one people."
Bruce looked steadfastly on the sage: "Then if thy voice utter holyverity, it will not again deny my call to wield the power that Heavenbestows! I follow my fate! To-morrow's dawn sees me in the path tosnatch my best treasure, my counselor, my guide, from the judgment ofhis enemies--or woe to England, woe to all Scotland born who havebreathed one hostile word against his sacred life! Helen dost thouhear me?" cried he: "Wilt thou not assist me to persuade thy too timidsister that her Bruce's honor, his happiness, lives in the preservationof his friend? Speak to her, counsel her, sweet Helen, and, and,please the Almighty arm of Heaven, I will reward thy tenderness withthe return of Wallace!"
Helen gazed intently on him while he spoke. She smiled when he ended,but she did not answer, and there was a wild vacancy in the smile thatseemed to say she knew not what had been spoken, and that her thoughtswere far away. Without further regarding him or any present, she aroseand left the room. At this moment of fearful abstraction, her wholesoul was bent with an intensity that touched on madness, on theexecution o
f a project which had rushed into her mind in the moment sheheard of Wallace's deathful captivity and destination.
Helen gazed intently on him while he spoke. She smiled when he ended,but she did not answer, and there was a wild vacancy in the smile thatseemed to say she knew not what had been spoken, and that her thoughtswere far away. Without further regarding him or any present, she aroseand left the room. At this moment of fearful abstraction, her wholesoul was bent with an intensity that touched on madness, on theexecution of a project which had rushed into her mind in the moment sheheard of Wallace's deathful captivity and destination.
The approach of night favored her design. Hurrying to her chamber, shedismissed her maids with the prompt excuse that she was ill, anddesired not to be disturbed until morning, then bolting the door, shequickly habited herself as the dear memorial of her happy days inFrance, and dropping from her window into the pleasance beneath, ranswiftly through its woody precincts toward Dundee.
Before she arrived at the suburbs of Ferth, her tender feet became soblistered, she found the necessity of stopping at the first cottage.But her perturbed spirits rendered it impossible for her to take rest,and she answered the hospitable offer of its humble owner, with arequest that he would go into the town and immediately purchase ahorse, to carry her that night to Dundee. She put her purse into theman's hand, who without further discussion obeyed. When the animal wasbrought and the honest Scot returned her the purse with its remainingcontents, she divided them with him, and turning from his thanks,mounted the horse, and rode away.
About an hour before dawn, she arrived within view of the ships lyingin the harbor at Dundee. At this sight she threw herself off thepanting animal, and leaving it to rest and liberty, hastened to thebeach. A gentle breeze blew freshly from the northwest, and severalvessels were heaving their anchors to get under weigh.
"Are any," demanded she, "bound for the Tower of London?"
"None," were the replies. Despair was now in her heart and gesture.But suddenly recollecting that in dressing herself for flight she hadnot taken off the jewels she usually wore, she exclaimed with renovatedhope, "Will not gold tempt some one to carry me thither?" A roughNorwegian sailor jumped from the side of the nearest vessel, andreadily answered in the affirmative. "My life," rejoined she, "or anecklace of pearls shall be yours, in the moment you land me at theTower of London." The man seeing the youth and agitation of theseeming boy, doubted his power to perform so magnificent a promise, andwas half inclined to retract his assent; but Helen pointing to a jewelon her finger as a proof that she did not speak of things beyond herread, he no longer hesitated; and pledging his word that wind and tidein his favor, he would land her at the Tower Stairs, she, as if allhappiness must meet her at that point, sprung into his vessel. Thesails were unfurled, the voices of the men chanted forth their cheeringresponses on clearing the harbor, and Helen throwing herself along thefloor of her little cabin, in that prostration of body and soul,silently breathed her thanks to God for being indeed launched on theocean, whose waves she trusted would soon convey her to Wallace; tosooth, to serve--to die, or to compass the release of him who hadsacrificed more than his life for her father's preservation--for himwho had saved herself from worse than death.