NEXT morning Wallace was recalled from the
confusion into which his nocturnal visitor had thrown his mind, by the
entrance of Ker, who came as usual with the reports of the night. In the
course of the communication, he mentioned, that about three hours before
sunrise, the Knight of the Green flume had left the camp with his
dispatches for Stirling. Wallace was scarcely surprised at this ready
falsehood of Lady Mar’s; and not intending to betray her, he merely
said, "Long ere he appears again, I hope we shall have good tidings
from our friends in the north."
But day succeeded day, and notwithstanding Bothwell’s embassy, no
accounts arrived. The Countess had left an emissary in the Scottish camp,
who did as she had done before, intercept all messengers from Perthshire.
Indeed, from the first of her flight to Wallace, to the hour of her
quitting him, she had never halted in her purpose, from any regard to
honour. Previous to her stealing from limiting-tower, she had bribed the
seneschal to say,—that on the morning of her disappearance, be had met a
knight near St. Concal’s well, coming to the castle, who told him, that
the Countess of Mar was gone on a secret mission to Norway; and she
therefore had commanded him, by that knight, to enjoin her sister-in-law,
for the sake of the cause most dear to them all, not to acquaint Lord
Ruthven, or any of their friends, with her departure, till she should
return with happy news for Scotland. The man added, that after declaring
this, the knight rode hastily away. But this precaution, which did indeed
impose on the innocent credulity of her husband’s sister, and his
daughter, failed to satisfy the Countess herself. Fearful that Helen might
communicate her flight to Wallace, and so excite his suspicion of her not
being far from him; from the moment of her joining him at Linlithgow, she
intercepted every letter from Hunting-tower; and when Bruce went to that
castle, she continued the practice with double vigilance; being jealous of
what might be said of Helen, by this Sir Thomas de Longueville, in whom
the master of her fate seemed so unreservedly to confide. To this end,
even after she left the camp, all packets from Perthshire were conveyed to
her by the spy she had stationed near Wallace; while all which were sent
from him to Hunting-tower, were stopped by the treacherous seneschal, and
thrown into the flames. No letters, however, ever came from Helen; a few
bore Lord Ruthven’s superscription, and all the rest were addressed by
Sir Thomas de Longueville to Wallace. She broke the seals of this
correspondence; but she looked in vain on their contents. Bruce and his
friends, as well as Ruthven, wrote in a cipher; and only one passage,
which the former had by chance written in the common character, could she
ever make out. It ran thus;— "I have just returned to
Hunting-tower, after the capture of Kinfouns. Lady Helen sits by me, on
one side; Isabella on the other. Isabella smiles on me, like the spirit of
happiness. Helen’s look is not less gracious; for I tell her, I am
writing to Sir William Wallace. She smiles; but it is with such a smile as
that with which a saint would relinquish to heaven the dearest object of
its love.—‘Helen;’ said I, ‘what shall I say from you to our
friend?‘—‘That I pray for him?’—’That you think of him?‘—‘That
I pray for him,’ repeated she more emphatically; ‘that is the way I
always think of my preserver? Her manner checked me, my dear Wallace; but
I would give worlds that you could bring your heart to make this sweet
vestal smile, as I do her sister !"
Lady Mar crushed the registered wish in her hand; and though she was
never able to decipher a word more of Bruce’s numerous letters, (many of
which, could she have read them, contained complaints of that silence she
had so cruelly occasioned,) she took and destroyed them all.
She had ever shunned the penetrating eyes of young Lord Bothwell; So to
have him on the spot, when she should discover herself to Wallace, she
thought would only invite discomfiture. Affecting to share the general
anxiety respecting the failure of communications from the north, she it
was who had suggested the propriety of sending some one of peculiar trust
to make inquiries. By covert insinuations, she easily induced Ker to
propose Bothwell to Wallace; and, on the very night that her machinations
had prevailed, to despatch him on this embassy; impatient, yet doubting
and agitated, she went to declare herself to the man for whom she
had thus sunk herself in shame and falsehood.
Though Wallace heard the denunciation with which she left his presence,
yet he did not conceive it was more than the evanescent rage of
disappointed passion; and, anticipating persecutions, rather from her love
than her revenge, he was relieved, and not alarmed, by the intelligence
that the Knight of the Green Plume had really taken his departure. More
delicate of Lady Mar’s honour than she was of, her own, when he met
Edwin at the works, he silently acquiesced in his belief also, that their
late companion was gone with despatches to the Regent, who was now removed
to Stirling.
After frequent sallies from the garrison, in which the Southrons were
always beaten back with great loss, the lines of circumvallation were at
last finished, and Wallace hourly anticipated the surrender of the enemy.
Reduced for want of provisions, and seeing all succours cut off by the
seizure of the fleet, the inhabitants, detesting their new rulers,
collected in bands; and lying in wait for the soldiers of the garrison,
murdered them secretly, and in great numbers. But here the evil did not
end; for by the punishments which the governor thought proper to inflict
by lots on the guilty, or the guiltless (he not being able to discover
who were actually the assassins), the distress of the town was augmented
to a horrible degree. Such a state of things could not be long maintained.
Aware that should he continue in the fortress, his troops must assuredly
perish, either by insurrection within, or from the enemy without, the
Southron commander determined no longer to wait the appearance of a relief
which might never arrive; and to stop the internal confusion, he sent a
flag of truce to Wallace, accepting and signing his offered terms of
capitulation. By this deed, he engaged to open the gates at sunset; but
begged the interval, between noon and that hour, to allow him time to
settle the animosity between his men and the people, before he should
surrender his brave followers entirely into the hands of the Scots.
Having despatched his assent to this request of the governor’s,
Wallace retired to his own tent. That he had effected his purpose, without
the carnage which must have ensued had he again stormed the place,
gratified his humanity; and congratulating himself on such a termination
of the siege, he turned with more than usual cheerfulness towards a
herald, who brought him a packet from the north. The man withdrew, and
Wallace broke the seal; but what was his astonishment, to find it a
citation for himself to repair immediately to Stirling; "to
answer," it said, "certain charges brought against him, by an
authority too illustrious to be set aside without examination! He had
hardly read this extraordinary mandate, when Sir Simon Fraser, his second
in command, entered; and, with consternation in his looks, put an open
letter into his hand. It ran as follows:— "Sir Simon Fraser—Allegations
of treason against the liberties of Scotland, having been preferred
against Sir William Wallace; until he clears himself of these charges, to
the abthanes of Scotland here assembled, you, Sir Simon Fraser, are
directed to assume, in his stead, the command of the forces which form the
blockade of Berwick; and, as the first act of your duty, you are ordered
to send the accused towards Stirling, under a strong guard—within an
hour after you receive this despatch.
(Signed) "John CUMMIN,
"Earl of Badenoch, Lord Regent of Scotland, "Stirling
Castle."
Wallace returned the letter to Fraser, with an undisturbed countenance:
"I have received a similar order from the Regent:" said he;
"and though I cannot guess the source whence these accusations
spring, I fear not to meet them, and shall require no guard to speed me
forward to the scene of my defence. I am ready to go, my friend; and happy
to resign the brave garrison, that has just surrendered, to your honour
and lenity." Fraser answered, that he should be emulous to follow his
example in all things, and to abide by his agreements with the Southron
governor. He then retired, to prepare the army for the departure of their
commander; and much against his feelings, to call out the escort that was
to attend the calumniated chief to Stirling.
When the marshal of the army read to the officers and men the orders of
the Regent, a speechless consternation seized on one part of the troops,
and as violent an indignation agitated the other to tumult. The veterans,
who had followed the chief of Ellerslie, from the first hour of his
appearing as a patriot in arms, could not brook this aspersion upon their
leader’s honour; and had it not been for the vehement exhortations of
the no less incensed, though more moderate, Scrymgeour and Lockhart, they
would have risen in instant revolt. Though persuaded to sheath their half
drawn swords, they could not be withheld from immediately quitting the
field, and marching directly to Wallaces tent. He was conversing with
Edwin, when they arrived; and, in some measure, he had broken the shock to
him of so dishonouring a charge on his friend, by his being the first to
communicate it. While Edwin strove to guess who could be the inventor of
so dire a falsehood against the truest of Scots, he awakened an alarm in
Wallace for Bruce, which could not be excited for himself, by suggesting
that perhaps some intimation had been given to the most ambitious of the
abthanes, respecting the arrival of their rightful prince. "And
yet," returned Wallace, "I cannot altogether suppose that; for
even their desires of self-aggrandisernent could not torture my share in
Bruce’s restoration to his country, into anything like treason: our
friend’s rights are too undisputed for that; and all I should dread, by
a premature discovery of his being in Scotland, would be secret
machinations against his life. There are men in this land who might
attempt it; and it is our duty, my dear Edwin, to suffer death upon the
rack, rather than betray our knowledge of him. But," added he, with a
smile," we need not disturb ourselves with such thoughts; the Regent
is in our prince’s confidence; and did this accusation relate to
him, he would not, on such a plea, have arraigned me as a traitor."
Edwin again revolved in his mind the nature of the charge, and who the
villain could be who had made it; and, at last, sudden1y recollecting the
Knight of the Green Plume, he asked if it were not possible that he, a
stranger who had so sedulously kept himself from being known, might be the
traitor? " I must confess to you:" continued Edwin, that
this knight, whoever appeared to dislike your closest friends, seems to me
the most probable instigator of this rnischief; and, is, perhaps the
author of the strange failure. of communication between you and Bruce!
Accounts have not arrived, even since Bothwell went; and that is
more than natural. Though brave in his deeds, this unknown may prove only
the, more subtle spy, and agent of our enemies.
Wallace changed colour at these suggestions; but merely replied,
"A few hours will decide your suspicion; for I shall lose no time in
confronting. my accusers"—"I go with you:" said Edwin:
"never, while I live, will I consent to lose sight of you
again!"
It was at this moment that the tumultuous approach of the Lanark
veterans was heard. from without The whole band rushed into the tent; and
Stephen Ireland, who was foremost, raising his voice, above the rest,
exclaimed, "They are the traitors, my Lord, who accuse you! It is
determined, by our corrupted thanes, that Scotland shall be sacrificed;
and you are to be made the first victim. Think they, then, that we will
obey such parricides? Lead us on, thou only worthy of the name of Regent,
and we will hurl these usurpers from their thrones."
This demand was reiterated by every man present; was echoed by
hundreds, who surrounded the tent. The Bothwellmen, and Ramsay’s
followers, joined the men of Lanark; and the mutiny against the orders of
the Regent became general. Wallace walked out into the open field, and
mounting his horse, rode forth amongst them. At sight of him the air
resounded with acclamations, unceasingly proclaiming him their only
leader; but, stretching out his arm to them, in token of silence, they
became profoundly still. My friends, and brother soldiers," cried he;
"as you value the honour of William Wallace,—as you have
hitherto done, at this moment yield him implicit obedience."—"For
ever !" shouted the Bothwell-men. "We never will obey any
other !" rejoined his faithful Lanark followers; and, with an
increased uproar, they demanded to be led to Stirling. His extended hand
again stilled the storm, and he resumed: "You shall go with me to
Stirling, but as my friends only; never as the enemies of the Regent of
Scotland. I am charged with treason: it is his duty to try me by the laws
of my country: it is mine, to submit to the inquisition.—I fear it not,
and I invite you to accompany me; not to brand me with infamy, by passing
between my now darkened honour and the light of justice; not to avenge an
iniquitous sentence, denounced on a guiltless man; but to witness my
acquittal; and, in that, my triumph over them, who, through my breast,
would strike at what is greater than I."
At this mild persuasive, every upraised sword dropped before him; and
Wallace, turning his horse into the path which led towards Stirling, his
men, with a silent determination to share the fate of their master, fell
into regular marching order, and followed him. Edwin rode by his side,
equally wondering at the unaffected composure with which he sustained such
a weight of insult, and at the men who could be so unjust as to lay it
upon him.
At the west of the camp, the detachment appointed to guard Wallace in
his arrest came up with him. It was with difficulty that Fraser could find
an officer who would command it; and he who did at last consent, appeared
before his prisoner with downcast eyes, seeming rather the culprit than
the guard. Wallace, observing his confusion, said a few gracious words to
him; and the officer, more overcome by this, than he could have been with
reproaches, burst into tears, and retired into the rear of his men.