The Scottish Chiefs Part 56

"What? Who is that?" exclaimed Mar, raising his head in alarm from his pillow.

"Believe it your country, Donald!" replied she; "to what do you bind its only defender? Are you not throwing him into the very center of his enemies, by making him swear to rescue Helen? Think you that De Valence will not foresee a pursuit, and take her into the heart of England? And thither must our regent follow him! Release Sir William Wallace from a vow that must destroy him!"

"Wallace," cried the now soul-struck earl, "what have I done? Has a father's anxiety asked amiss? If so, pardon me! But if my daughter also must perish for Scotland, take her, O G.o.d, uncontaminated, and let us meet in heaven! Wallace, I dare not accept your vow."

"But I will fulfill it," cried he. "Let thy paternal heart rest in peace; and by Jesus' help, Lady Helen shall again be in her own country, as free from Southron taint as she is from all mortal sin! De Valence dare not approach her heavenly innocence with violence; and her Scottish heart will never consent to give him a lawful claim to her precious self. Edward's legions are far beyond the borders! but wherever this earl may be, yet I will reach him. For there is a guiding hand above, and the demands of the morning at Falkirk are now to be answered in the halls of Stirling."

Lord Ruthven, followed by Edwin and Murray, entered the room. And the two nephews were holding each a hand of their dying uncle in theirs, when Lady Ruthven (who, exhausted with fatigue and anxiety, had retired an hour before), reappeared at the door of the apartment. She had been informed of the arrival of the regent and her son, and now hastened to give them a sorrowful welcome.

"Ah, my lord," cried she, as Wallace pressed her matron cheek to his; "this is not as your triumphs are wont to be greeted! You are still a conqueror, and yet death, dreadful death, lies all around us! And our Helen, too--"

"Shall be restored to you, by the blessed aid of Heaven!" returned he, "What is yet left for me to do, must be done; and then-" He paused, and added, "The time is not far distant, then--" He paused, and added "The time is not far distant, Lady Ruthven, when we shall meet in the realms to which so many of our bravest and dearest have just hastened."

With swimming eyes Edwin drew toward his master. "My uncle would sleep," said he; "he is exhausted, and will recall us when he wakes from rest." The eyes of the veteran were at that moment closed with heavy slumber. Lady Ruthven remained with the countess to watch by him; and Wallace, gently withdrawing, was followed by Ruthven and the two young men out of the apartment.

Lord Lochawe, with the Bishop of Dunkeld, and other chiefs, lay in different chambers, pierced with many wounds; but none so grievous as those of Lord Mar. Wallace visited them all, and having gone through the numerous places in the neighborhood, then made quarters for his wounded men. At the gloom of evening he returned to Falkirk. He sent Edwin forward to inquire after the repose of his uncle; but on himself re-entering the monastery, he requested the abbot to conduct him to the apartment in which the remains of Sir John Graham were deposited. The father obeyed; leading him along a dark pa.s.sage, he opened a door, and discovered the slain hero lying on a bier. Two monks sat at its head, with tapers in their hands. Wallace waved them to withdraw; they set down the lights and departed. He was then alone.

For some time he stood with clasped hands, looking intently on the body as it lay extended before him. "Graham! Graham!" cried he, at last, in a voice of unutterable grief; "dost thou not rise at thy general's voice? Oh! is this to be the tidings I am to send to the brave father who intrusted to me his son? Lost in the prime of youth, in the opening of thy renown, is it thus that all which is good is to be martyrized by the enemies of Scotland?" He sunk gradually on his knees beside him. "And shall I not look once more on that face," said he, "which ever turned toward mine with looks of faith and love?" The shroud was drawn down by his hand. He started on his feet at the sight. The changing touch of death had altered every feature--had deepened the paleness of the bloodless corpse into an ashy hue. "Where is the countenance of my friend?" cried he. "Where the spirit which once moved in beauty and animating light over this face! Gone; and all I see before me is a ma.s.s of molded clay! Graham! Graham!" cried he, looking upward, "thou art not here. No more can I recognize my friend in this deserted habitation of thy soul. Thine own proper self, thine immortal spirit, is ascended up above; and there my fond remembrance shall ever seek thee!" Again he knelt, but it was in devotion--a devotion which drew the sting from death, and opened to his view the victory of the Lord of Life over the King of Terrors.

Edward having learned from his father that Lord Mar still slept, and being told by the abbot where the regent was, followed him to the consecrated chamber. On entering, he perceived him kneeling by the body of his friend. The youth drew near. He loved the brave Graham, and he almost adored Wallace; the scene, therefore, smote upon his heart. He dropped down by the side of the regent, and, throwing his arms around his neck, in a convulsive voice exclaimed: "Our friend is gone; but I yet live, and only in your smiles, my friend and brother!"

Wallace strained him to his breast. He was silent for some minutes, and then said: "To every dispensation of G.o.d I am resigned, my Edwin.

While I bow to this stroke, I acknowledge the blessing I still hold in you and Murray. But did we not feel these visitations from our Maker, they would not be decreed to us. To behold the dead is the penalty of man for sin; for it is more pain to witness and to occasion death, than for ourselves to die. It is also a lesson which G.o.d teaches his sons; and in the moment that he shows us death he convinces us of immortality. Look upon that face, Edwin!" continued he, turning his eyes on the breathless clay. His youthful auditor, awestruck, and his tears checked by the solemnity of this address, looked as he directed him. "Doth not that inanimate mold of earth testify that nothing less than an immortal spirit could have lighted up its marble substance with the life and G.o.d-like actions we have seen it perform?" Edwin shuddered; and Wallace, letting the shroud fall over the face, added: "Never more will I look at it, for it no longer wears the characters of my friend--they are pictured on my soul; and himself, my Edwin, still effulgent in beauty and glowing with imperishable life, looks down on us from heaven!" He rose as he spoke, and opening the door, the monks re-entered, and placing themselves at the head of the bier, chanted the vesper requiem. When it was ended, Wallace kissed the crucifix they laid on his friend's breast, and left the cell.

Chapter LV.

Church of Falkirk.

No eye closed that night in the monastery of Falkirk. The Earl of Mar awaked about the twelfth hour, and sent to call Lord Ruthven, Sir William Wallace, and his nephews, to attend him. As they approached, the priests, who had just anointed his dying head with the sacred unction, drew back. The countess and Lady Ruthven supported his pillow. He smiled as he heard the advancing steps of those so dear to him. "I send for you," said he, "to give you the blessing of a true Scot and a Christian! May all who are here in thy blessed presence, Redeemer of mankind!" cried he, looking up with a supernatural brightness in his eye, "die as I do, rather than survive to see Scotland enslaved! But oh! may they rather long live under that liberty, perpetuated, which Wallace has again given to his country; peaceful will then be their last moments on earth, and full of joy their entrance into heaven!" His eyes closed as the concluding word died upon his tongue. Lady Ruthven looked intently on him; she bent her face to his, but he breathed no more; and, with a feeble cry, she fell back in a swoon.

The soul of the veteran earl was indeed fled. The countess was taken, shrieking, out of the apartment; but Wallace, Edwin, and Murray remained, kneeling over the body, and when they concluded, the priests throwing over it a cloud of incense, the mourners withdrew, and separated to their chambers.

By daybreak, Wallace met Murray by appointment in the cloisters. The remains of his beloved father had been brought from Dunipacis to the convent, and Murray now prepare to take them to Bothwell Castle, there to be interred in the cemetery of his ancestors. Wallace, who had approved his design, entered with him into the solitary court-yard, where the war-carriage stood which was to convey the deceased earl to Clydesdale. Four soldiers of his clan brought the corpse of their Lord from a cell, and laid him on his martial bier. His bed was the sweet heather of Falkirk, spread by the hands of his son. As Wallace laid the venerable chief's sword and helmet on his bier, he covered the whole with the flag he had torn from the standard of England in the last victory. "None other shroud is worthy of thy virtues!" cried he.

"Dying for Scotland, thus let the memorial of her glory be the witness of thine!"

"Oh! my friend," answered Murray, looking on his chief with a smile, which beamed the fairer s.h.i.+ning through sorrow, "thy gracious spirit can divest even death of its gloom. My father yet lives in his fame!"

"And in a better existence, too!" gently replied Wallace; "else the earth's fame were an empty shroud--it could not comfort."

The solemn procession, with Murray at its head, departed toward the valleys of Clydesdale, and Wallace returned to his chamber. Two hours before noon he was summoned by the tolling of the chapel bell. The Earl of Bute and his dearer friend were to be laid in their last bed.

With a spirit that did not murmur, he saw the earth closed over both graves; but at Graham's he lingered; and when the funeral stone shut even the sod that covered him from his eyes, with his sword's point he drew on the surface these memorable words:

"Mente manuque potens, et Walli fidus Achates.

Conditus hic Gramus, bello interfectus ab Anglis."**

**These lines may be translated thus:

Here lies The powerful in mind and body, the friend of Wallace; Graham, faithful unto death! slain in battle by the English.

While he yet leaned on the stone, which gently gave way to the registering pen of friends.h.i.+p, to be more deeply engraved afterward, a monk approached him, attended by a shepherd boy. At the sound of steps, Wallace looked up.

"This young man," said the father, "brings dispatches to the lord regent."

Wallace rose, and the youth presented his packet. Withdrawing to a little distance, he broke the seal, and read to this effect:

"My father and myself are in the Castle of Durham, and both under an arrest. We are to remain so till our arrival in London renders its sovereign, in his own opinion, more secure: when there, you shall hear from me again. Meanwhile, be on your guard: the gold of Edward has found its way into your councils. Beware of them who, with patriotism in their mouths, are purchased to betray you and their country into the hands of the enemy! Truest, n.o.blest, best of Scots, farewell!--I must not write more explicitly.

"P.S.--The messenger who takes this is a simple border shepherd: he knows not whence comes the packet, hence he cannot bring an answer."

Wallace closed the letter; and putting gold into the shepherd's hand, left the chapel. In pa.s.sing through the cloisters he met Ruthven, just returned from Stirling, whither he had gone to inform the chiefs of the council of the regent's arrival. "When I summoned them to the council-hall," continued Lord Ruthven, "and told them you had not only defeated Edward on the Carron, but in so doing had gained a double victory, over a foreign usurper and domestic traitors!-instead of the usual open-hearted gratulations on such a communication, a low whisper murmured through the hall; and the young Badenoch, unworthy of his patriotic father, rising from his seat, gave utterance to so many invectives against you, our country's soul, and arm! I should deem it treason even to repeat them. Suffice it to say, that out of five hundred chiefs and chieftains who were present, not one of those parasites who used to fawn on you a week ago, and make the love of honest men seem doubtful, now breathes one word for Sir William Wallace. But this ingrat.i.tude, vile as it is, I bore with patience till Badenoch, growing in insolency, declared that late last night dispatches had arrived from the King of France to the regent, and that he (in right of his birth, a.s.suming to himself that dignity) had put their bearer, Sir Alexander Ramsay, under confinement, for having persisted to dispute his authority to withhold them from you."

Wallace, who had listened in silence, drew a deep sigh as Ruthven concluded; and, in that profound breath, exclaimed--"G.o.d must be our fortress still; must save Scotland from this gangrene in her heart!

Ramsay shall be released; but I must first meet these violent men. And it must be alone, my lord," continued he; "you, and our coadjutors, may wait my return at the city gates; but the sword of Edward, if need be, shall defend me against his gold." As he spoke, he laid his hand on the jeweled weapon which hung at his side, and which he had wrested from that monarch in the last conflict.

Aware that this treason, aimed at him, would strike his country, unless timely warded off, he took his resolution; and requesting Ruthven not to communicate to any one what had pa.s.sed, he mounted his horse, and struck into the road to Stirling. He took the plume from his crest, and closing his visor, enveloped himself in his plaid, that the people might not know him as he went along. But casting away his cloak, and unclasping his helmet at the door of the keep, he entered the council-hall, openly and abruptly. By an instantaneous impulse of respect, which even the base pay to virtue, almost every man arose at his appearance. He bowed to the a.s.sembly, and walked, with a composed yet severe air, up to his station at the head of the room. Young Badenoch stood there; and as Wallace approached he fiercely grasped his sword. "Proud upstart!" cried he, "betrayer of my father! set a foot further toward this chair, and the chastis.e.m.e.nt of every arm in this council shall fall on you for your presumption!"

"It is not in the arms of thousands to put me from my right," replied Wallace, calmly putting forth his hand and drawing the regent's chair toward him.

"Will ye bear this?" cried Badenoch, stamping with his foot, and plucking forth his sword; "is the man to exist who thus braves the a.s.sembled lords of Scotland?" While speaking, he made a desperate lunge at the regent's breast; Wallace caught the blade in his hand, and wrenching it from his intemperate adversary, broke it into s.h.i.+vers, and cast the pieces at his feet; then, turning resolutely toward the chiefs, who stood appalled, and looking on each other, he said, "I, your duly elected regent, left you only a few days ago, to repel the enemy whom the treason of Lord March would have introduced into these very walls. Many brave chiefs followed me to that field! and more, whom I see now, loaded me as I pa.s.sed with benedictions. Portentous was the day of Falkirk to Scotland. Then did the mighty fall, and the heads of counsel perish. But treason was the parricide! The late Lord Badenoch stood his ground like a true Scot; but Athol and Buchan deserted to Edward." While speaking, he turned toward the furious son of Badenoch, who, gnas.h.i.+ng his teeth in impotent rage, stood listening to the inflaming whispers of Macdougal of Lorn. "Young chief," cried he, "from their treachery date the fate of your brave father, and the whole of our grievous loss of that day; but the wide destruction has been avenged! more than chief for chief have perished in the Southron ranks, and thousands of the lowlier sort now swell the banks of Carron.

Edward himself fell, wounded by my arm, and was born by his flying squadrons over the wastes of Northumberland. Thus have I returned to you with my duties achieved in a manner worthy of your regent! What, then, means the arrest of my emba.s.sador? what this silence when the representative of your power is insulted to your face?

"They mean," cried Badenoch, "that my words are the utterance of their sentiments." "They mean," cried Lorn, "that the prowess of the haughty boaster, whom their intoxicated grat.i.tude raised from the dust, shall not avail him against the indignation of a nation over which he dares to arrogate a right."

"Mean they what they will," returned Wallace, "they cannot dispossess me of the rights with which a.s.sembled Scotland invested me on the plains of Stirling. And again I demand, by what authority do you and they presume to imprison my officer, and withhold from me the papers sent by the King of France to the Regent of Scotland?"

"By the authority that we will maintain," replied Badenoch; "by the right of my royal blood, and by the sword of every brave Scot, who spurns at the name of Wallace!"

"And as a proof that we speak not more than we act," cried Lorn, making a.s.sign to the chiefs, "you are our prisoner!"

Many weapons were instantly unsheathed; and their bearers, hurrying to the side of Badenoch and Lorn, attempted to lay hands on Wallace; but he, drawing the sword of Edward, with a sweep of his valiant arm that made the glittering blade seem a brand of fire, set his back against the wall, and exclaimed:

"He that first makes a stroke at me shall find his death on this Southron steel! This sword I made the puissant arm of the usurper yield to me; and this sword shall defend the Regent of Scotland against his ungrateful countrymen!"

The chieftains who pressed on him recoiled at these words, but their leaders, Badenoch and Lorn, waved them forward, with vehement exhortations.

"Desist, young men!" continued he, "provoke me not beyond my bearing.

With a single blast of my bugle I could surround this building with a band of warriors, who at sight of their chief being thus a.s.saulted, would lay this tumult in blood. Let me pa.s.s, or abide the consequence!"

"Through my breast, then," exclaimed Badenoch; "for, with my consent, you pa.s.s not here but on your bier. What is in the arm of a single man," cried he to the lords, "that ye cannot fall on him at once, and cut him down?"

"I would not hurt a son of the virtuous Badenoch," returned Wallace; "but his life be on your hands," said he, turning to the chiefs, "if one of you point a sword to impede my pa.s.sage."

"And wilt thou dare it, usurper of my powers and honors?" cried Badenoch. "Lorn, stand by your friend--all here who are true to the c.u.mmin and Macdougal, hem in the tyrant."

Many a traitor hand now drew forth its dagger, and the intemperate Badenoch, drunk with choler and mad ambition, s.n.a.t.c.hing a sword from one of his accomplices, made another violent plunge at Wallace, but its metal flew in splinters on the guard-stroke of the regent, and left Badenoch at his mercy. "Defend me, chieftains, or I am slain!" cried he. But Wallace did not let his hand follow its advantage; with the dignity of conscious desert, he turned from the vanquished, and casting the enraged Lorn from him, who had thrown himself in his way, he exclaimed: "Scots, that arm will wither which dares to point its steel on me." The pressing crowd, struck in astonishment, parted before him as they could have done in the path of a thunderbolt, and unimpeded, he pa.s.sed to the door.