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WALLACE, having planted an adequate force in
charge of the prisoners, went to the two Southron commanders; to
Sir John Segrave, who stood
leaning on his sword with a disturbed countenance, interrupted him:
"The fate of this day, cannot be attributed to any earthly name, or
hand. I believe my sovereign will allow the zeal with which I have ever
served him; and yet thirty thousand as brave men as ever crossed the
marshes, have fallen before a handful of Scots. Three victories, won over
Edward’s, troops in one day, are not events of a common nature. God
alone has been our vanquisher."—"I acknowledge it," cried
Wallace; "and that he is on the side of justice, let the return of
St. Matthias’s day ever remind your countrymen !"
When Segrave gave the
victory to the Lord of Hosts, he did it more from jealousy of what might
be Edward’s opinion of his conduct, when compared with Neville’s, than
from any intention to imply that the cause of Scotland was justly
Heaven-defended. Such are the impious inconsistencies of unprincipled men!
He frowned at the reply of Wallace, and turned gloomily away. Neville
returned a respectful answer; and their conqueror soon after left them.
Edwin, with the Knight of
the Green Plume, (who had indeed approved his valour, by many a brave deed
performed at his commander’s side,) awaited Wallace’s return
from his prisoner’s tent. Ruthven came up with Wallace before he joined
them; and told him that Bruce was safe under the care of the sage of
Ercildown; and that the Regent, who had been wounded in the beginning of
the day, was also in Roslyn Castle. Wallace then called Edwin to him;
giving him orders, that all of the sturvivors who had suffered in these
three desperate battles should be collected from amongst the slain, and
carried into the neighbouring castles, of Hawthorndean, Brunston, and
Dalkeith. The rest of the soldiers were commanded to take their
refreshment, still under arms. These duties performed, Wallace turned with
the eagerness of friendship and loyalty, to see how Bruce fared.
The moon shone brightly, as
his party rode forward. Wallace ascended the steep acclivity on which
Roslyn Castle stands. In crossing the drawbridge which divides its rocky
peninsula from the main land, he looked around, and sighed. The scene
reminded him of Ellerslie. A. deep shadow lay on the woods beneath; and
the pensile branches of the now leafless trees, bending to, meet the
flood, seemed mourning the deaths which now polluted its stream. The water
lay in profound repose at the base of these beautiful craigs, as if peace
longed to become an inhabitant of so lovely a scene.
At the gate of the castle,
its aged master, the Lord Sinclair, met Wallace, to bid him welcome.
"Blessed be the saint of this day:" exclaimed he, "for thus
bringing our best defender, even as by a miracle, to snatch us as a brand
from the fire! My gates, like my heart, open to receive the true Regent of
Scotland."—"I have only done a Scotsman’s duty, venerable
Sinclair," replied Wallace, "and must not arrogate a title,
which Scotland has transferred to other hands."—"Not Scotland,
but rebellion," replied the old chief. "It was rebellion against
the just gratitude of the nation, that invested the Black Cummin with the regency; and only some similar infatuation has
bestowed the same title on his brother. What did he not lose, till you,
Scotlaud’s true champion, have re-appeared, to rescue her again from
bondage ?"——"The
present Lord Badenoch, is an honest and a brave man;" replied
Wallace; "and, as I obey the power which gave him his authority, I am
ready, by fidelity to him, to serve Scotland with as vigorous a zeal as
ever: so, noble Sinclair, when our rulers cast not trammels on our virtue,
we must obey them as the vicegerents of Heaven."
Wallace then asked to be conducted to his wounded
friend Sir Thomas de Longueville; for Sinclair was ignorant of the real
rank of his guest. Eager to oblige him, his noble host immediately led the
way through the gallery;
and, opening the door of an apartment, discovered to him, Bruce lying on a couch; and a
venerable figure, whose silver beard, and sweeping robes, announced him
to be the sage of Ercildown, was bathing the wounded chief’s temples
with balsams. A young creature, beautiful as a ministering seraph, also
hung over the prostrate chief. She held a golden casket in hand, out of
which the sage drew the unctions he applied. At the sound of Wallace’s
voice, who spoke in a suppressed tone to Ruthven, while entering the
chamber, the wounded Prince started on his arm, to greet his friend —but
he as instantly fell back, Wallace hastened forward. When Bruce recovered
from the swoon, into which the suddenness of his attempt to rise had
thrown him, he felt a hand grasping his; he guessed to whom it belonged,
and gently pressing it, smiled;—a moment afterwards he opened his eyes,
and in a low voice articulated, from his wounded lips, "My dear
Wallace ! you are
victorious?"—"Completely
so, my Prince and King," returned he, in the same tone: "all is
now plain before you; speak but the word, and render Scotland happy !"
"Not yet; O! not yet" whispered he. "My more than brother, allow Bruce to be himself
again, before he is known in the land of his fathers! This
cruel wound in my head must heal first, and then I may again share your dangers and your glory !—O
Wallace, not a Southron must taint our native lands, when my name is
proclaimed in Scotland." [It
is a curious circumstance,
that when the body of Bruce was discovered, a few years ago, in the abbey
of Dunfermline, his head retained all
its teeth excepting two in front, evidently originally injured by a stroke
of violence. Besides this, the evidence remained in the bone of the chest,
of the fact of its having been cut open after his death, for the heart to
be taken out, according to his dying command, to be sent to the Holy Land.
The history of that royal heart’s wandering, in its sepulchral urn, is
very interesting, connecting with it the valour of the Douglas and the
Lockhart. The minister of Dunfermline sent to the author of "The
Scottish Chiefs,"
a piece of the shroud of Bruce; it had been cloth of gold.—(1828.)]
Wallace saw that his Prince was not in a state to
bear
argument; and, as all had retired far from the couch when he approached
it, in gratitude for this propriety, (for it had left him and his friend
free to converse unobserved,) he turned towards the other inmates of the
chamber. The sage advanced to him; and recognising in Wallace’s now
manly form, the fine youth he had seen with Sir Ronald Crawford at the
claiming of the crown, he saluted him
with a paternal affection, tempering the sublime
feelings with which even he approached the resistless champion of his
country; and then beckoning the beautiful girl, who had so compassionately
hung over the couch of Bruce, she drew near the sage. He took her hand:
"Sir William Wallace," said he, "this sweet child is the
youngest daughter of the brave Mar, who died in the field of glory on the
Carron. Her grandfather, the stalworth Knight of Thirlstane, fell a few
weeks ago, defending his castle; arid I am almost all that is left to her;
though she has, or had a sister; of whom we can learn no tidings."
Isabella, for it was she,
covered her face to conceal her emotions. "Dear
lady," said Wallace," these venerable heroes were both known to,
and beloved by me. And now that Heaven has resumed them to itself; as the
last act of friendship, that I, perhaps, may be fated to pay to their
offspring, I shall convey you to that sister, whose matchless heart yearns
to receive so dear a consolation."
To disengage Isabella’s
thoughts from the afflicting remembrances, now bathing her fair cheeks
with tears, Ercildown put a cup of the mingled juice of herbs into her
hand, and commissioned her to give it to their invalid. Wallace now
learnt, that his friend’s wound was not only in the head, accompanied by
a severe concussion, but that it must be many days before he could remove
from off his bed without danger. Anxious to release him from even the
scarcely breathed whispers of his martial companion, who stood at some
distance from his couch, Wallace immediately proposed leaving him to rest;
and beckoning the chiefs, they followed him out of the apartment.
On the following morning he was
aroused at day-break, by the abrupt entrance of Andrew Lord Bothwell into
his tent. The well known sounds of his voice made Wallace start from his
pillow, and extend his arms to receive him. "Murray! my brave
invaluable Murray!" cried he, "thou art welcome, once more to
the side of thy brother in arms. Thee and thine must ever be first in my
heart!" The young Lord Bothwell returned his warm embrace in eloquent
silence; but sitting down by Wallace’s couch, he grasped his hand, and
pressing it to his breast, said, "I feel a happiness here, which I
have never known since the day of Falkirk. You quitted us, Wallace; and
all good seemed gone with you, or buried in my father’s grave. But you
return! You bring conquest and peace with you; you restore our Helen to
her family; you bless us with yourself !—And shall you not see again the
gay Andrew Murray? It must be so, my friend; melancholy is not my climate:
and I shall. now live in your beams." "Dear Murray!"
returned Wallace, "this generous enthusiasm, can only be equalled by
my joy in all that makes you and Scotland happy." He then proceeded
to confide to him all that related to Bruce; and to describe the minutite
of those plans for his establishment, which had only been hinted in his
letters from France. Bothwell entered with ardour into these designs; and
regretted that the difficulty he found in persuading the veterans of
Lanark to follow him to any field where they did not expect to find their
beloved Wallace, had deprived him of the participation of the late danger,
and new glory of his friend. "To compensate for that privation,"
replied Wallace, "while our Prince is disabled from pursuing victory
in his own person, we must not allow our present advantages to lose their
expected effects. You shall accompany me through the Lowlands; where we
must recover the places which the ill-fortune of James Cummin has
lost."
Murray gladly embraced this
opportunity of again sharing the field with Wallace; and the chiefs joined
Bruce. Bothwell was presented to his young sovereign; and Douglas
entering, the discourse turned on their different posts of duty. Wallace
suggested to his royal friend, that as his restoration to health could not
be so speedy as the cause required, it would be necessary not to await
that event, but begin the recovery of the border counties before Edward
could reinforce their garrisons. Bruce sighed; but with a generous glow
suffusing his pale face, said "Go, my friend! Bless Scotland which
way you will; and let my ready acquiescence convince future ages, that I
love my country beyond my own fame; for her sake, I relinquish to you the
whole glory of delivering her out of the hands of the tyrant who has so
long usurped my rights. Men may say, when they hear this, that I do not
merit the crown you will put upon my head; that I have lain on a couch, while you fought for me: but
I will bear an obloquy, rather
than deserve its slightest charge,
by withholding you an hour from the great work of Scotland’s
peace." "It is not for the breath of men, my dear Prince,"
returned Wallace, "that
either you or I act. It is sufficient for us that we effect their good;
and whether the agent be one or the other, the end is the same. Our deeds
and intentions have one great Judge;
and he will award the only true glory."
Such were the principles which filled the
hearts of these two friends,
worthy of each other, and alike honourable to the country that gave them
birth. Gordon had won their confidence; and watched by this Prince’s
pillow.
Though the wounded John Cummin remained possessed of the
title of Regent, Wallace was virtually endowed with the
authority. Whatever he suggested, was acted upon as by a decree:—all
eyes looked to him, as to the cynosure by which every order of men in
Scotland were to shape their course. The jealousies which had driven him
from his former supreme seat, seemed to have died with the prime
instigator the late Regent; and no chief of any consequence,
excepting Soulis and Athol, who had retired in disgust to their castles,
breathed a word in opposition to the general gratitude.
Wallace, having dictated his terms, and sent his prisoners to
England,
commenced the march that was to clear the Lowlands of the foe. His own
valiant band, headed by Scrymgeour and Lockhart of Lee, [The
crusading ancestor of
this Lockhart was the bringer of
the famous Lee penny from
the Holy Land; and from him sprung the three brave branches of the name.—Lockhart
of Lee, Lockhart of Carnwath,
and Lockhart of Drydean—all now centered in the family
of Sir Norman Macdonald Lockhart, Bart., who also inherits from his forefathers
a countship of the German empire.—(1840.)] rushed
towards his standard, with a zeal that rendered each individual a host in himself. The fame of his new
victories, seconded by
the enthusiasm of the people, and the determination of
the troops, soon made him master of all the lately lost fortresses.
Hardly four weeks were consumed in these conquests, and
not a rood of land remained south of the Tay, in the possession of
England, excepting Berwick. Before that often-disputed stronghold, Wallace
drew up his forces, to commence a regular siege. The governor, intimidated
by the powerful works which he saw the
Scottish chief forming against
the town, despatched a messenger to Edward with the tidings; not only
praying for succours; but to inform him, that if he continued to refuse
the peace, for which the Scots fought, he would find it necessary to begin
the conquest of the kingdom anew.
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