WALLACE entered on the Carse of Stirling, that
scene of his many victories, and beheld its northern horizon white with
tents. Officers, appointed for the purpose, had apprised the abthanes, of
Wallace having left Berwick; and knowing by the same means all his
movements, an armed cavalcade met him near the Canon; to hold his.
followers in awe, and to conduct him without opposition to Stirling. In
case it should be insufficient to quail their spirit, or to intimidate
him, who had never yet been made to fear by mortal man, the Regent had
summoned all the vassals of the various seigniories of Cummin, and planted
them in battle array before the walls of Stirling. But whether they were
friends or foes, was equally indifferent to Wallace; for strong in
integrity, he went securely forward to his trial; and, though inwardly
marvelling at such a panoply of war being called out to induce him to
comply with so simple an act of obedience to the laws, he met the heralds
of the Regent with as much ease as if they had been coming to congratulate
him on the capitulation of Berwick; the ratification of which he brought
in his hand.
By his other, his faithful followers (who took a pride in obeying with
the most scrupulous exactness the injunctions of their now deposed
commander) encamped under Sir Alexander Scrymgeour, to the north-west of
the castle, near Ballochgeich. It was then night. In the morning, at an
early hour, Wallace was summoned before the council in the citadel.
On his re-entrance into that room, which he had left, the dictator of
the kingdom, when every knee bent, and every head bowed to his supreme
mandate, he found not one who even greeted his appearance with the
commonest ceremony of courtesy. Badenoch, the Regent, sat upon the throne,
with evident symptoms of being yet an invalid; The Lords Athol and Buchan,
and the numerous chiefs of the clans of Cummin, were seated on his right:
on his left were arranged the Earls of Fife and Lorn, Lord Soulis, and
every Scottish baron of power, who at any time had shown himself hostile
to Wallace. Others, who were of easy faith to a tale of malice, sat with
them: and the rest of the assembly was filled up with men of better
families than personal fame; and whose names swelled a list, without
adding any true importance to the side on which they appeared. A few, and
those a very few, who still respected Wallace, were present; not because
they were sent for (great care having been taken not to summon his friends
but in consequence of a rumour of the charge having reached them: and
these were, the Lords Lennox and Loch-awe, with Kirkpatrick, and two or
three chieftains from the western Highlands. None of them had arrived till
within a few minutes of the council being opened; and Wallace was entering
at one door as they appeared at the other.
At sight of him, a low whisper buzzed through the hall; and a marshal
took the plumed bonnet from his hand, which out of respect to the nobility
of Scotland, he had raised from his head at his entrance. A herald,
meanwhile, proclaimed, in a loud voice, "Sir William Wallace! you are
charged with treason;—and, by an ordinance of Fergus the First, you must
stand uncovered before the representative of the majesty of Scotland,
until that loyalty be proved, which would again restore you to a seat
amongst her faithful barons."
Wallace, with the same equanimity, as that with which he would have
mounted the regal chair, bowed his head to the marshal, in token of
acquiescence. But Edwin, whose indignation was re-awakened at this
exclusion of his friend from the privilege of his birth, said something so
warm to the marshal, that Wallace, in a low voice, was obliged to check
his vehemence, by a declaration—that, however obsolete the custom, and
revived in his case only, it was his determination to submit himself in
every respect, to whatever was exacted of him by the laws of his country.
On Loch-awe, and Lennox, observing him stand thus, before the bonneted
and seated chiefs, (a stretch of magisterial prerogative, which had not
been exercised on a Scottish knight for many a century,) they took off
their caps, and bowing to Wallace, refused to occupy their places on the
benches, while the defender of Scotland stood. Kirkpatrick drew eagerly
towards him, and throwing down his casque and sword at his feet, cried in
a loud voice, "Lie there, till the only true man in all this land
commands me to take ye up in his defence. He alone had courage to look the
Southrons in the face, and to drive their king over the borders, while his
present accusers skulked in their chains!" Wallace regarded this
ebullition from the heart of the honest veteran, with a look that was
eloquent to all. He would have animatedly praised such an instance of
fearless gratitude expressed to another; and when it was directed to
himself, his ingenuous soul showed approbation, in every feature of his
beaming countenance.
It thus, presumptuous knight of Ellerslie?" cried Soulis,
"that by your looks, you dare encourage contumely to the Lord Regent,
and his peers?" Wallace did not deign him an answer, but turning
calmly towards the throne, "Representative of my king!" said he,
"in duty to the power whose authority you wear, I have obeyed your
summons: and I here await the appearance of the accuser, who has had the
hardihood to brand the name of William Wallace with disloyalty to prince
or people."
The Regent was embarrassed. He did not suffer his eyes to meet those of
Wallace, but looked down in manifest confusion during this address; and
then, without reply, turned to Lord Athol, and called on him to open the
charge. Athol required not a second summons; he rose immediately; and, in
a bold and positive manner, accused Wallace of having been won over by
Philip of France, to sell those rights of supremacy to him, which, with a
feigned patriotism, his sword had wrested from the grasp of England. For
this treachery, Philip was to endow him with the sovereignty of Scotland;
and, as a pledge of the compact, he had invested him with the principality
of Gascony in France. "This is the ground-work of his treason,"
continued Athol; "but the superstructure is to be cemented with our,
blood. I have seen a list in his own hand-writing, of those chiefs whose
lives are to pave his way to the throne."
At this point of the charge, Edwin sprang forward; but Wallace
peceiving the intent of his movement, caught him by the arm, and, by a
look, reminded him of his recently repeated engagement to keep silent.
"Produce the list," cried Lord Lennox. "No evidence,
that does not bring proof to our eyes, ought to have any weight with us
against the man who has bled in every vein for Scotland."—"It
shall be brought to your eyes," returned Athol; "that, and other
damning proofs, shall convince this credulous country, of its abused
confidence"—"I see these damning proofs now!" cried
Kirkpatrick, who had frowningly listened to Athol; "the abusers of my
country’s confidence, betray themselves at this moment, by their
eagerness to impeach her friends; and, I pray Heaven, that before they
mislead others into so black a conspiracy, the lie in their throats may
choke its inventorsI"—"We all know," cried Athol, turning
on Kirkpatrick, "to whom you belong. You were bought, with the
shameless grant to mangle the body of the slain Cressingbam; a deed, which
has brought a stigma on the Scottish name, never to be erased but by the
disgrace of its perpetrators. For this savage triumph did you sell
yourself to William Wallace; and a bloody champion you are, always ready,
for your secretly murderous master!"
"Hear you this, and bear it?" cried Kirkpatrick, and Edwin,
in one breath, and grasping their daggers; Edwin’s flashed in his hand.
"Seize them!" cried Athol; "my life is threatened by his
myrmidons."—Marshals instantly approached; but Wallace, who had
hitherto stood in silent dignity, turned to them, with that tone of
justice which had ever commanded from his lips, and bade them forbear:—"Touch
these knights, at your peril, marshals!" said he: "No man in
this chamber is above the laws; and they protect every Scot who resents
unjust aspersions upon his own character, or irrelevant, and prejudicing
attacks on that of an arraigned friend. It is before the majesty of the
law, that I now stand; but were injury to usurp its place, not all the
lords in Scotland should detain me a moment, in a scene so unworthy of my
country." The marshals retreated; for they had been accustomed to
regard with implicit deference the opinion of Sir William Wallace on the
laws; and though he now stood in the light of their violator, yet memory
bore testimony, that he had always read them aright; and, to this hour,
had ever appeared to make them the guide of his actions.
Athol saw that none in the assembly had courage to enforce this act of
violence; and blazing with fury, he poured his whole wrath upon Wallace:
"Imperious, arrogant traitor!" cried he: "this presumption
only deepens our impression of your guilt!—Demean yourself with more
reverence to this august court, or expect to be sentenced on the proof
which such insolence amply gives; we require no other, to proclaim your
domineering spirit; and at once to condemn you as the premeditated tyrant
of our land."—"Lord Athol," replied Wallace, "what
is just, I would say in the face of all the courts in Christendom. It is
not in the power of man to make me silent, when I see the laws of my
country outraged, and my countrymen oppressed. Though I may submit my own
cheek to the blow, I will not permit theirs to share the stroke. I have
answered you, Earl, to this point, and am ready to hear you to the
end."
Athol resumed :—"I am not your only accuser, proudly-confident
man: you shall see one, whose truth cannot be doubted; and whose first
glance will bow that haughty spirit, and cover that bold front with the
livery of shame! My Lord," cried he, turning to the Regent, "I
shall bring a most illustrious witness before you; one who will prove on
oath, that it was the intention of this arch-hypocrite, this angler for
women’s hearts, this perverter of men’s understandings—before
another moon to bury deep in blood the very people whom he now insidiously
affects to protect! But to open your and the nation’s eyes at once; to
overwhelm him with his fate; I now call forth the evidence."
The marshals opened a door in the side of the ball, and led a lady
forward, habited in regal splendour, and covered in head to foot with a
veil of so transparent a texture, that her costly apparel and majestic
contour were distinctly seen through it. She was conducted to a chair on
an elevated platform a few paces from where Wallace stood. On tier being
seated, the Regent rose and in a tremulous voice addressed her :—
"Joanna, Countess of Strathearn and Mar, Princess of the Orkneys, we
adjure thee, by thy princely dignity, and in the name of the King of
kings, to bear a just witness to the truth or falsehood of the charges of
treason and conspiracy now brought against Sir William Wallace."
The name of his accuser made Wallace start: and the sight of her
unblushing face, for she threw aside her veil the moment she was
addressed, overspread his cheek with a tinge of that shame for her, which
she was now too "hardened in determined crime to feel herself. [The
treasonable crimes of this wicked woman are truly verified in the Scottish
history.] Edwin gazed at her in speechless horror; while she, casting a
glance on Wallace, in which the full purpose of her soul was declared,
turned, with a softened though majestic air, to the Regent, and spoke :—-
"My Lord," said she, "you see before you a woman, who
never knew what it was to feel a self-reproachful pang, till an evil hour
brought her to receive an obligation from that insidious, treacherous man.
But as my first passion has ever been the love of my country, I will prove
it to this good assembly, by making a confession of what was once my heart’s
weakness; and by that candour, I trust they will fully honour the rest of
my narrative."
A clamour of approbation resounded through the hall. Lennox and
Loch-awe looked on each other with amazement. Kirkpatrick, recollecting
the scenes at Dumbarton, exclaimed—"Jezebel!"—but the
ejaculation was lost in the general burst of applause; and the Countess
opening a folded paper, which she held in her hand, in a calm, collected
voice; but with a flushing cheek, resumed:— "I shall read my
further deposition. I have written it, that my memory might not err, and
that my country may be unquestionably satisfied of the accuracy of every
sylable I utter."
She paused an instant, drew a quick breath, and proceeded, reading from
the paper, thus :— (But as occasions occurred for particularly pointing
its contents, she turned her tutored eye upon the object, to look a signet
on her mischief.)
"I am not to tell you, my Lord, that Sir William Wallace twice
released the late Earl of Mar and myself from Southron captivity. Our
deliverer was, what yon see him: fraught with attractions, which he too
successfully directed against the peace of a young woman married to a man
of paternal years. While to all the rest of the world, be seemed to
consecrate himself to the memory of his ill-fated wife, to me alone he
unveiled his straying heart. I revered my nuptial vow too sincerely, to
listen to him with the complacency he wished: but, I blush to own, that
his tears, his agonies of love, his manly graces, and the virtues I
believed he possessed, (for well he knows to f’eign!) co-operating with
my gratitude, at last wrought such a change in my breast that—I became
wretched. No guilty wish was there; but an admiration of him, a pity which
undermined my health, and left me miserable! I forbade him to approach me.
I tried to wrest him from my memory; and nearly had succeeded, when I was
informed by my late husband’s nephew,—(the youth who now stands beside
Sir William Wallace,)—that he was returned under an assumed name from
France. Then I feared that all my inward struggles were to recomence. I
had once conquered myself: for abhorring the estrangement of my thoughts
from my wedded lord; when he died, I only yearned to appease my
conscience; and in penance for my involuntary crime, I refused Sir William
Wallace my hand. His return to Scotland filled me with tumults, which only
they who would sacrifice all they prize, to a sense of duty, can know.
Edwin Ruthven left me at Hunting-tower; and, that very evening, while
walking alone in the garden, I was surprised by the sudden approach of an
armed man. He threw a scarf over my head, to prevent my screams, but I
fainted with terror. He then took me from the garden by the way he had
entered, and placing me on a horse before him, carried me,—whither I
know not! but on my recovery I found myself in a chamber, with a woman
standing beside me, and the same warrior. His visor was so closed that I
could not see his face. On my expressing alarm at my situation, he
addressed me in French, telling me he had provided a man to carry an
excuse to Hunting-tower, to prevent pursuit; and then he put a letter into
my hand, which, he said, he brought from Sir William Wallace. Anxious to
know the purpose of this act; and believing that a man who had sworn to me
devoted love, could not premeditate a more serious outrage, I broke the
seal, and, nearly as I can recollect, read to this effect:-
"That his passion was so imperious, he had determined to make me
his, in spite of those sentiments of female delicacy, which, while they
tortured him, rendered me dearer in his eyes. He told me, that as he had
often read in my blushes, the sympathy which my too severe virtue made me
conceal,—he would now wrest me from my cheerless widowhood; and having
nothing in reality to reproach myself with, compel me to be happy. His
friend, the only confidant of his love, had brought me to a spot, whence I
could not fly: there I should remain, till he, Wallace, could leave the
army for a few days; and throwing himself on my compassion and tenderness,
be received as the most faithful of lovers, the fondest of husbands.
"This letter;" continued the Countess, "was followed by
many others; and suffice it to say, that the latent affection in my heart,
and his subduing love, were too powerful in his cause. How his letters
were conveyed. I know not; but they were duly presented to me by the woman
who attended me. At last the knight who bad brought me to the place, and
who wore green armour, and a green plume, reappeared."—"Prodigious
villain!" broke from the lips of Edwin. The Countess turned her eye
on him for a moment, and then resumed: "He was the warrior who had
borne me from Hunting-tower; and from that hour until the period I now
speak of, I had never seen him. He put another packet into my hand;
desiring me to peruse it with attention, and return Sir William Wallace a
verbal answer by him. Yes! was all he required. I retired to open it; and
what was my horror, when I read a perfect developement of the treasons for
which he is now brought to account!—By some mistake of my character, he
had conceived me to be ambitious; and knowing himself to be the master of
my heart, he fancied himself lord of my conscience also. He wrote, that
until he saw me, he had no other end in his exertions for Scotland, than
her rescue from a foreign yoke; but; added he, ‘from the moment in which
I first beheld my adored Joanna, I aspired to place a crown on her brows!’
He then told me, that he did not deem the time of its presentation to him
on the Carse of Stirling, a safe juncture for its acceptance; neither was
he tempted to run the risk of maintaining an unsteady throne, when I was
not free to partake it; but since the death of Lord Mar, every wish, every
hope was re-awakened; and then he determined to become a king. Philip of
France had made secret articles with him to that end. He was to hold
Scotland of him. While to make the surrender of his country’s
independence sure to Philip, and its sceptre to himself and his posterity;
he attempted to persuade me there would be no crime in destroying the
chiefs, whose names he enrolled in this list. The Pope, he added, would
absolve me from a transgression dictated by connubial duty; and, on our
bridal day, he proposed the deed should be done. He would invite all these
lords to a feast; and poison, or the dagger, should lay them at his feet.
"So impious a proposal restored me to myself. My love at once
turned to the most decided abhorrence: and hastening to the Knight of the
Green Plume, I told him to carry my resolution to his master; that I would
never see him more, till I should appear as his accuser before the
tribunal of his country. The knight tried to dissuade me from my purpose,
but in vain: and, at last, becoming alarmed at the punishment which might
overtake himself as the agent of such treason, he confessed to me, that
the scene of his first appearance at Linlithgow was devised by Wallace;
who, unknown to all others, had brought him from France, to assist him in
the scheme he durst not confide to Scotland’s friends. If I would
guarantee his life, he offered to take me from the place where I was then
confined, and convey me safe to Stirling. All else that he asked, was,
that I would allow him to be the bearer of the casket which contained Sir
William Wallace’s letters; and suffer my eyes to be blindfolded during
the first part of our journey. This I consented to; but the murderous list
I had undesignedly put into my bosom—My head was again wrapped in a
thick veil, and we set out. It was very dark; and we travelled long and
swiftly, till we came to a wood. There was neither moon, nor stars, to
point out any habitation. But being overcome with fatigue, my conductor
persuaded me to dismount and take rest. I slept beneath the trees. In the
morning when I awoke, I in vain looked round for the knight, and called
him; he was gone; and I saw him no more. I then explored my way to
Stirling;—to warn my country of its danger;—to unmask to the world,
the direst hypocrite that ever prostituted the name of virtue."
The Countess ceased; and a hundred voices broke out at once, pouring
invectives on the traitorous ambition of Sir William Wallace; and invoking
the Regent to pass some signal condemnation on so monstrous a crime. In
vain Kirkpatrick thundered forth his indignant soul; he was unheard in the
tumult: but going up to the Countess, he accused her to her face, of
falsehood; and charged her with a design, from some really treasonable
motive, to destroy the only sure hope of her country.
"And will you not speak?" cried Edwin, in agony of spirit
clasping Wallace’s arm; "will you not speak, before these
ungrateful men shall dare to brand your ever honoured name, with infamy?—Make
yourself be heard, my noblest friend! Confute that wicked woman, who too
surely has proved what I suspected,—that this self-concealing knight,
came to be a traitor." "I will speak, my Edwin," returned
Wallace, "at the proper moment; but not in this tumult of my enemies.—Rely
on it, your friend will submit to no unjust decree."
"Where is this Knight of the Green Plume?" cried Lennox,
almost startled in his opinion of Wallace, by the consistency of the
Countess’s narrative. "No mark of dishonour, shall be passed on Sir
William Wallace, without the strictest scrutiny. Let the mysterious
stranger be found, and confronted with Lady Strathearn."
Notwithstanding the Earl’s insisting on impartial justice, she perceived
the doubt in his countenance, and eager to maintain her advantage, replied—"The
knight, I fear, has fled beyond our search; but, that I may not want a
witness to corroborate the love I once bore this arch-hypocrite; and,
consequently, the sacrifice I make to loyalty, in thus unveiling him to
the world; I call upou you, Lord Lennox, to say whether you did not
observe, at Dumbarton Castle, the state of my too grateful heart !"
Lennox, who well remembered her conduct in the citadel of that
fortress, hesitated to answer; aware that his reply might substantiate a
guilt, which he now feared would be but too strongly made manifest. Every
ear hung on his answer. Wallace saw what was passing in his mind; and
determined to allow all men to show what was in their hearts towards him
and justice, he looked towards the Earl and said, "Do not hesitate,
my Lord; speak all that you know, or think, of me. Could the deeds of my
life be written on yon blue vault;" added he, pointing to the
heavens, "and my breast be laid open, for men to scan, I should be
content: for then Scotland would know me, as my Creator knows me; and the
evidence, which now makes even friendship doubt, would meet the reception
due to calumny."
Lord Lennox felt the last remark; and stung with remorse, for having
for a moment credited anything against the frank spirit which gave him
this permission, he replied, "To Lady Strathearn’s question, I must
answer, that at Dumbarton I did perceive her preference of Sir William
Wallace; but I never saw anything in him, to warrant the idea that it was
reciprocal. And yet, were it even so, that bears nothing to the point of
the Countess’s accusation; and, notwithstanding her princely rank, and
the deference all would pay to the widow of Lord Mar;—as true Scots, we
cannot relinquish to a single witness, our faith in a man who has so
eminently served his country."
"No;" cried Loch-awe; "if the Knight of the Green Plume
be above ground, he shall be brought before this tribunal. He alone can be
the traitor; and to destroy us, by exciting suspicions against our best
defender, he has wrought with his own false pen, this device, to deceive
the patriotic widow of the Earl of Mar."—"No, no;"
interrupted she; "I read the whole in his own, to me too well known,
hand-writing; and this list of the chiefs, condemned by you, indeed
traitor! to die, shall fully evince his guilt.
Even your name, too generous Earl, is in the horrid catalogue."—While
she spoke, she rose eagerly, to hand to him the scroll.
"Let me now speak, or stab me to the heart!" hastily
whispered Edwin, to his friend. Wallace did not withhold him, for he
guessed what would be the remark of his ardent soul. "Hear that
woman!" cried the vehement youth, to the Regent, "and say,
whether she now speaks the language of one who had ever loved the virtues
of Sir William Wallace? Were she innocent of malice towards the deliverer
of Scotland, would she not have rejoiced in Loch-awe’s suggestion, that
the Green Knight is the traitor?— Or, if that scroll, she has now given
into the Regent’s hand, be too nicely forged, for her to detect its not
being indeed the hand-writing of the noblest of men; would she not have
shown some sorrow, at least, at being obliged to maintain the guilt of
one, she professes once to have loved?—Of one who saved herself, her
husband, and her child, from perishing!—But here her malice has
overstepped her art; and after having promoted the success of her tale, by
so mingling insignificant truths, with falsehoods of capital import—that
in acknowledging the one, we seem to grant the other;—she falls into her
own snare!— even a beardless boy can now discern, that, however vile the
Green Knight may be, she shares his wickedness!"
While Edwin spoke, Lady Strathearn’s countenance underwent a thousand
changes. Twice she attempted to rise and interrupt him; but Sir Roger
Kirkpatrick, having fixed his eyes on her with a menacing determination to
prevent her, she found herself obliged to remain quiescent. Full of a
newly excited fear, that Wallace had confided to her nephew the last scene
in his tent, she started up as he seemed to pause, and, with assumed
mildness, again addressing the Regent, said—that before this apparently
ingenuous defence, could mislead impartial minds, she thought it just to
inform the council, of the infatuated attachment of Edwin Ruthven to the
accused; for she had ample cause to assert, that the boy was so bewitched
by his commander,—who had flattered his youthful vanity, by loading him
with distinctions only due to approved valour in manhood,—that he was
ready at any time to sacrifice every consideration of truth, reason, and
duty, to please Sir William Wallace.
"Such may be, in a boy;" observed Lord Loch-awe, interrupting
her; "but as I know no occasion in which it is possible for Sir
William Wallace to falsify the truth, I call upon him, in justice to
himself and to his country, to reply to three questions!"—Wallace
bowed to the venerable Earl, and he proceeded—"Sir William Wallace,
are you guilty of the charge brought against you, of a design to mount the
throne of Scotland by means of the King of France?"
Wallace replied, "I never designed to mount the throne of
Scotland, either by my own means, or by any other man’s."
Loch-awe proceeded. "Was this scroll, containing the names of
certain Scottish chiefs, noted down for assassination, written by you, or
under your connivance?"
"I never saw the scroll, nor heard of the scroll, until this hour.
And harder than death is the pang at my heart, when a Scottish chief finds
it necessary to ask me such a question, regarding a people, to save, even
the least of whom, he has so often seen me risk my life!"
"Another question;" replied Loch-awe; "and then, bravest
of men, if your country acquits you not in thought and deed, Campbell of
Loch-awe sits no more amongst its judges!—What is your knowledge of the
Knight of the Green Plume; that, in preference to any Scottish friend, you
should intrust him with your wishes respecting the Countess of Strathearn
?"
Wallace’s answer was brief: "I never had any wishes respecting
the wife, or the widow of my friend the Earl of Mar, that I did not impart
to every chief in the camp; and those wishes went no further than for her
safety. As to love, that is a passion I shall know no more; and Lady
Strathearn alone can say, what is the end she aims at, by attributing
feelings to me with regard to her, which I never conceived,—and words,
which I never uttered. Like this passion, with which she says she inspired
me," added he, turning his eyes steadfastly oh her face, "was
the Knight of the Green Plume !—You are all acquainted with the manner
of his introduction to me at Linlithgow. By the account that he then gave
of himself, you all know as much of him as I did; till on the night that
he left me at Berwick,—and then I found him—like this story of Lady
Strathearn, all, a fable."
" What is his proper title?—Name him, on your knighthood!"
exclaimed Buchan; "for he shall yet be dragged forth, to support the
veracity of my illustrious kinswoman; and to fully unmask his insidious
accomplice!"
"Your kinswoman, Earl Buchan," replied Wallace, "can
best answer your question."
Lord Athol approached the Regent, and whispered something in his ear.
This unworthy representative of the generous Bruce, immediately rose from
his seat; "Sir William Wallace;" said he, "you have replied
to the questions of Lord Loch-awe; but where are your witnesses, to prove
that what you have spoken is the truth ?"
Wallace was struck with surprise at this address from a man, who,
whatever might be demanded of him in the fulfilment of his office, he
believed could not be otherwise than his friend; because, from the
confidence reposed in him both by Bruce and himself, he must be fully
aware of the impossibility of these allegations being true. But Wallace’s
astonishment was only for a moment; he now saw with an eye, that pierced
through the souls of the whole assembly; and, with collected firmness, he
replied,—"My witnesses are in the bosom of every Scotsman."
"I cannot find them in mine;" interrupted Athol.— "Nor
in mine!" was echoed from various parts of the hall.
"Invalidate the facts brought against you, by legal evidence, not
a mere rhetorical appeal, Sir William Wallace," added the Regent,
"else the sentence of the law must be passed on so tacit an
acknowledgment of guilt."
"Acknowledgment of guilt!" cried Wallace, with a flush of
godlike indignation suffusing his noble brow. "If any one of the
chiefs who have just spoken, knew the beat of an honest heart, they would
not have declared that they heard no voice proclaim the integrity of
William Wallace.—Let them look out on you Carse, where they saw me
refuse that crown, offered by themselves, which my accuser alleges I would
yet obtain by their blood.—Let them remember the banks of the Clyde,
where I rejected the Scottish throne offered me by Edward! Let these facts
bear witness for me; and, if they be insufficient, look on Scotland, now,
for the third time, rescued by my arm from the grasp of an usurper!—That
scroll locks the door of the kingdom upon her enemies." As he spoke,
he threw the capitulation of Berwick upon the table. It struck a pause
into the minds of the Lords; they gazed, with pallid countenances, and
without a word, on the parchment where it lay, while he proceeded—"If
my actions, that you see, do not convince you of my integrity; then
believe the unsupported evidence of words, the tale of a woman, whose
mystery, were it not for the memory of the honourable man whose name she
once bore, I would publicly unravel:—believe her! and leave Wallace
nought of his country to remember, but that he has served it, and that it
is unjust!"
"Noblest of Scots!" cried Loch-awe, coming towards him,
"did your accuser come in the shape of an angel of light, still we
should believe your life, in preference to her testimony; for God himself
speaks on your side.—My servants; he declares, ‘shall be known by
their fruits?’ And have not yours been peace to Scotland, and good-will
to men!"—"They are the serpent folds of his hypocrisy!"
cried Athol alarmed at the awe-struck looks of the assembly.—" They
are the baits, by which he cheats fools!" reechoed Soulis. "They
are snares, which shall catch us no more!" was now the general
exclamation; and in proportion to the transitory respect, which had made
them bow, though but for a moment to virtue—they now vociferated their
contempt, both of Wallace, and this his last achievement. Inflamed with
rage at the manifest determination to misjudge his commander, and maddened
at the contumely with which their envy affected to treat him, Kirkpatrick
threw off all restraint, and with the bitterness of his reproaches, still
more incensed the jealousy of the nobles, and augmented the tumult.
Lennox, vainly attempting to make himself heard, drew towards Wallace;
hoping by that movement, to at least show on whose side he thought justice
lay. At this moment, while the uproar raged with redoubled clamour; the
one party denouncing the Cummins, as the source of this conspiracy against
the life of Wallace; the other demanding, that sentence should instantly
be passed upon him as a traitor; the door burst open, and Bothwell,
covered with dust, and followed by a throng of armed knights, rushed into
the centre of the hall.
Who is it ye arraign?" cried the young chief, looking indignantly
around him. "Is it not your deliverer would destroy? The Romans could
not accuse the guilty Manlius, in sight of the capitol he had preserved,
but you, worse than heathens, bring your benefactor to the scene of his
victories, and there condemn him for serving you too well! Has he not
plucked you, this third time, out of the furnace that would have consumed
you? And yet, in this hour, you would sacrifice him to the disappointed
passions of a woman! Falsest of thy sex!" cried he, turning to the
Countess, who shrunk before the penetrating egos of Andrew Murray;—"do
I not know thee? have I not read thine unfeminine, thy vindictive heart?
You would destroy the man you could not seduce! Wallace!" cried he,
"speak. Would not this woman have persuaded you to disgrace the name
of Mar? When my uncle died, did she not urge you to intrigue for that
crown, which she knew you had so loyally declined?" "My
errand here," answered Wallace, " is to defend myself, not to
accuse others. I have shown that I am innocent, and my judges will not
look on the proof. They obey not the laws, in their judgment; and whatever
may be the decree, I shall not acknowledge its authority." As he
spoke, he turned away, and walked with a firm step out of the hall.
His disappearance gave the signal for a tumult, more threatening
to the welfare of the state, than if the armies of Edward had been in the
midst of them. It was brother against brother, friend against friend. The
Lords Lennox, Bothwell, and Loch-awe, were vehement against the unfairness
with which Sir William Wallace had been treated; Kirkpatrick declared,
that no arguments could be used with men, so devoid of reason; and words
of reproach and reviling, passing on all sides, swords were fiercely
drawn. The Countess of Strathearn, seeing herself neglected by even her
friends in the strife, and fearful that the party of Wallace might at last
gain the ascendency; and that herself, then without her traitor corslet on
her breast, might meet their hasty vengeance, rose abruptly, and giving
her hand to a herald, hurried out of the assembly.