Chapter LXXXVI.
Highgate.
The tidings of the dreadful vengeance which Edward had taken againstthe Scottish nation, by pouring all his wrath upon the head of Wallace,struck like the lightning of heaven through the souls of men. None ofeither country, but those in the confidence of Gloucester, knew thatHeaven had snatched him from the dishonor of so vile a death. TheEnglish turned, blushing, from each other, and ventured not to breathethe name of a man whose virtues seemed to have found a sanctuary forhis fame in every honest heart. But when the news reached Scotland,the indignation was general. All envyings, all strifes were forgotten,in unqualified resentment of the deed. There was not a man, evenamongst the late refractory chiefs, excepting the Cummins, and theircoadjutors Soulis and Monteith, who really had believed that Edwardseriously meant to sentence the Scottish patriot to a severer fate thanwhat he had pronounced against his rebellious vassal, the exiledBaliol. The execution of Wallace, whose offense could only be that ofhaving served his country too faithfully, was therefore so unexpected,that on the first promulgation of it, so great an abhorrence of theperpetrator was excited in every breast, that the whole country rose asone man, threatening to march instantly to London, and sacrifice thetyrant on his throne.
At this crisis, when the mountains of the north seemed heaving fromtheir base, to overwhelm the blood-stained fields of England, everyheart which secretly rejoiced in the late sanguinary event quailedwithin its possessor, as it tremblingly anticipated the consequences ofthe fall of Wallace. At this instant, when the furies armed every clanin Scotland, breathing forth revenge like a consuming fire before them,John Cummin, the regent, stood aghast. He foresaw his own downfall, inthis reawakened enthusiasm respecting the man whom his treachery hadbeen the first means of betraying to his enemies. Baffled in the aimof his ambition by the very means he had taken to effect it, Cummin sawno alternative, but to throw himself at once upon the bounty ofEngland; and, to this purpose, he bethought him of the only chance ofpreserving the power of past events, that this tempest of thesoul--excited by remorse in some, and gratitude in others--could onlybe maintained to any conclusive injury to England, by a royal hand, andthat that hand was expected to be Bruce's, he determined at once, thatthe prince to whom he had sworn fealty, and to whom he owed his presentelevation, should follow the fate of his friend. By the spies which heconstantly kept round Huntingtower, he was apprised that Bruce had setoff toward London in a vessel from Dundee. On these grounds, he sent adispatch to King Edward, informing him that destiny had established himsupreme lord of Scotland; for not its second and its last hope had puthimself into his hands. With this intelligence, he gave a particularaccount of all Bruce's proceedings, from the time of his meetingWallace in France, to his present following the chief to London. Hethen craved his majesty's pardon for having been betrayed into a unionwith such conspirators; and repeating his hope that the restitution henow made, in thus showing the royal hand where to find its lastopponent, would give full conviction of his penitence and duty. Heclosed his letter by urging the king to take instant and effectualmeasures to disable Bruce from disturbing the quiet of Scotland, orever again disputing his regal claims!
Gloucester happened to be in the presence when this epistle wasdelivered in and read by his majesty. On the suit of his daughter,Edwin had been reconciled to his son-in-law; but when he showed him thecontents of Cummin's letter, with a suspicious smile he said in a loudvoice, "In case you should know this new rebel's lurking-place, presumenot to leave this room till he is brought before me. See to yourobedience, Ralph, or your head shall follow Wallace's."
The king instantly withdrew, and the earl, aware that search would bemade through all his houses, sought in his own mind for some expedientto apprise Bruce of his danger. To write in the presence=chamber wasimpossible; to deliver a message in a whisper would be hazardous--formost of the surrounding courtiers, seeing the frown with which the kinghad left the apartment, marked the commands he gave the marshal: "Besure that the Earl of Gloucester quits not this room till I return."
In the confusion of his thoughts, the earl turned his eye on LordMontgomery, who had only arrived that very morning from an embassy toSpain. He had heard with unutterable horror the fate of Wallace; andextending his interest in him to those whom he loved, had arranged withGloucester to accompany him that very evening to pledge his friendshipto Bruce. To Montgomery, then, as to the only man acquainted with hissecret, he turned; and taking his spurs off his feet, and pulling out apurse of gold, he said aloud, and with as easy an air as he couldassume, "Here, my Lord Montgomery, as you are going directly toHighgate, I will thank you to call at my lodge; put these spurs andthis purse into the hands of the groom we spoke of; tell him they donot fit me, and he will know what use to make of them." He then turnednegligently on his heel, and Montgomery quitted the apartment.
The apprehension of this young lord was not less quick than theinvention of his friend. He guessed that the Scottish prince wasbetrayed; and to render his escape the less likely to be traced (theground being wet, and liable to retain impression), before he went tothe lodge he dismounted in the adjoining wood, and with his own handsreversed the iron on the feet of the animal he had provided for Bruce.He then proceeded to the house, and found the object of his missiondisguised as a Carmelite, and in the chapel paying his vesperadorations to the Almighty Being on whom his whole dependence hung.Uninfluenced by the robes he wore, his was the devotion of the soul;and not unaptly at such an hour came one to deliver him from a dangerwhich, unknown to himself, was then within a few minutes of seizing itsprey.
Montgomery entered; and being instantly recognized by Bruce, theingenuous prince, never doubting a noble heart, stretched out his handto him. "I take it," returned the earl, "only to give it a partinggrasp. Behold these spurs and purse sent to you by Gloucester. Youknow their use. Without further observation follow me." Montgomerywas thus abrupt, because as he left the palace he had heard the marshalgive orders for different military detachments to search everyresidence of Gloucester for the Earl of Carrick; and he did not doubtthat the party dispatched to Highgate were now mounting the hill.
Bruce, throwing off his cassock and cowl, again appeared in his martialgarb, and after bending his knee for a moment on the chancel-stonewhich covered the remains of Wallace, he followed his friend from thechapel, and thence through a solitary path to the park, to the centerof the wood. Montgomery pointed to the horse. Bruce grasped the handof his faithful conductor. "I go, Montgomery," said he, "to mykingdom. But its crown shall never clasp my brows till the remains ofWallace return to their country. And whether peace or the swordrestore them to Scotland, still shall a king's, a brother's friendshipunite my heart to Gloucester and to you." While speaking he vaultedinto his saddle, and receiving the cordial blessings of Montgomery,touched his good steed with his pointed rowels, and was out of sight inan instant.