"He shall first see my
fires, and meet my sword in his own fields:" returned Wallace:
"and if God continue my life, I will keep my Easter in England, in
despite of King Edward, and of all who bear armour in his country!"
As he spoke, he rose from
his chair, and bowing his head to the herald, the Scottish marshals
conducted the ambassadors from his presence. Le de Spencer twice
attempted. to speak, but the marshals would not allow him. They said, that
the business of the embassy was now over; and should he presume further to
insult their Regent, the privilege of his official character should not
protect him from the wrath of the Scots. Intimidated by the frowning
brows, and nervous arms of all around, he held his peace, and the doors
were shut on him.
Wallace foresaw the heavy
tempest to Scotland threatened by these repeated embassies. He perceived
that Edward, by sending overtures, which he knew could not be accepted; by
making a show of pacific intentions; meant to throw the blame of the
continuation of hostilities upon the Scots; and so overcome the reluctance
of his more equitable nobility, to further persecute a people whom he had
made to suffer so unjustly. The same insidious policy was likewise meant
to change the aspect of the Scottish cause, in the eyes of Philip of
France; who had lately, sent congratulations to the Regent, on the victory
of Cambus-Kenneth; and by that means, deprive him of a powerful ally, and
zealous negotiator for an honourable peace.
To prevent this last
injury, Wallace despatched a quick sailing vessel with Sir Alexander
Ramsay, to inform King Philip of the particulars of Edward’s proposals,
and of the consequent continued warfare.
On the twenty-eighth of
February, Sir William Wallace joined Lord Andrew Murray on Bothwell moor;
where he had the happiness of seeing his brave friend again lord of the
domains he had so lately lost in the Scottish cause. Wallace did not visit
the castle. At such a crisis, he forbore to unnerve his mind, by awakening
the griefs which lay slumbering at the bottom of his heart. Halbert came
from his convent, once more to look upon the face of his beloved master.
The meeting cost Wallace many agonising pangs; but he smiled on his
faithful servant. He pressed the venerable form in his manly arms, and
promised him news of his life and safety. "May I die," cried the
old man, "ere I hear it is etherwise! But youth is no warrant for
life; the vigour of those arms, cannot always assure themselves of
victory; and should you fall, where would be our country?"
"With a better than I
;" returned the chief; "in the arms of God. He will fight for
Scotland, when Wallace is laid low." Halbert wept. But the trumpet
sounded for the field. He blessed his lord, and they parted for ever.
A strong force from the
Highlands, joined the troops from Stirling; and Wallace had the
satisfaction of seeing before him, thirty thousand well-appointed men,
eager for the fight. With all Scotland pressing on his heart, his eye
lingered a moment on the distant towers of Bothwell; but not delaying a
moment, he placed himself at the head of his legions, and set forth
through a country, now budding with all the charms of the cultivation he
had spread over it. ln the midst of a fine glen of renovated cornfields,
he was met by a courier from Sir Roger Kirkpatrick, with information—that
the Northumbrians, being apprised of King Edward's approach, were
assembling in immense bodies; and having crossed the Debatable land in the
flight, had driven Sir Eustace Maxwell, with great loss, into Carlaveroch;
and, though harassed by Kirkpatrick himself, were ravaging the country as
far as Dumfries. The letter of the brave knight added, "These
Southron thieves blow the name of Edward before them, and with its sound
have spell-bound the courage of every soul I meet. Come, then; valiant
Wallace, and conjure it down again; else I shall not be surprised if the
men of Annandale bind me hand and foot, and deliver me up to Algernon
Percy (the leader of this inroad), to purchase mercy to their
cowardice."
Wallace made no reply to
this message; but proclaiming to his men that the enemy were in
Dumfriesshire, every foot was put to the speed; and in a short time they
arrived on the ridgy summits of the eastern moutains of Clydesdale. His
troops halted for rest near the village of Biggar ; and it being night, he
ascended to the top of the highest craig, and
lit a fire, whose far-streaming light he hoped would send the news of his
approach to Annandale. The air being calm and clear, the signal rose in
such a long pyramid of flame, that distant shouts of rejoicing, were heard
breaking the deep silence of the hour. A moment after, a hundred answering
beacons burnt along the horizon. Torthorald saw the propitious blaze; he
showed it to his terrified followers ;—"Behold that hill of fire!"
cried he, "and cease to despair."—" Wallace comes !"
was their response; "and we will do, or die!"
[The mountain from which this beacon
sent its rays, has from that hour been called Tinto or Tintoc (which
signifies The Hill of Fire;) and is yet regarded by the country
people with a devotion almost idolatrous. Its height is about 2200 feet
from the sea. Not far from Tinto, at Biggar the spot is shown which
was Wallace’s camp. These last animating words, are a rallying cry in
the fine old song of "Ye Scots wha’ ha’ wi’ Wallace bled !
"---(1809.)]
Day broke upon Wallace, as
he crossed the heights of Drumlanrig; and pouring his thousands over the
almost deserted valleys of Annandale, like a torrent be swept the invaders
back upon their steps. He took young Percy prisoner; and leaving him shut
up in Lochmaben, drove his flying vassals far beyond the borders.
Annandale again free, he
went into its various quarters; and summoning the people, (who now crept
from their caves and woods, to shelter under his shield,) he reproved them
their cowardice; and showed them, that unless every man possess a courage
equal to his general, he must expect to fall under the yoke of the enemy.
"Faith in a leader, is good," said he; "but not such a
faith as leaves him to act, without yourselves rendering that assistance
to your own preservation, which Heaven itself commands. When absent from
you in person, I left my spirit with you, in the brave knights of
Carlaveroch and Torthorald; and yet you fled. Had I been here, and you
done the same, the like must have been the consequence. What think you is
in my arm, that I should alone stem your enemies? The expectation is
extravagant, and false. I am but the head of the battle, you are the arms;
if you shrink, I fall, and the cause is ruined. You follow my call to the
field, you fight valiantly, and I win the day! Respect then yourselves;
and believe, that you are the sinews, the nerves, the strength of Sir
William Wallace!"
Some looked manfully up, at
this exhortation; but most hung their heads in remembered shame, while he
continued: —" Dishonour not your fathers, and your trust in God, by
relying on any one human arm; or doubting that, from heaven! Be confident,
that while the standard of true liberty is before you, you fight under God’s
banner. See how I, in that faith, drove these conquering Northumbrians
before me like frighted roes! You might, and must do the same, or the
sword of Wallace is drawn in vain. Partake my spirit, brethren of
Annandale; fight as stoutly over my grave, as by my side; or, before the
year expires, you will again be the slaves of Edward."
Such language, while it
covered the fugitives with confusion of face, awoke emulation in all, to
efface with honourable deeds the memory of their disgrace. With augmented
forces he therefore marched into Cumberland; and having drawn up his array
between a river, and a high ground which he covered with archers, he stood
prepared to meet the approach of King Edward.
But Edward did not appear
till late in the next day; and then the Scots descried his legions,
advancing from the horizon, to pitch their vanguard on the plain of
Stanmore. Wallace knew that for the first time he was now going to pitch
his soldiership against that of the greatest general in Christendom. But
he did not shrink from measuring him arm to arm, and mind to mind; for the
assurance of his cause was in both.
His
present aim was to draw the English towards the Scottish lines, where, at
certain distances, he had dug deep pits; and having covered them lightly
with twigs and loose grass, left them as traps for the Sonthron cavalry:
for in cavalry, he was told by his spies, would consist the chief strength
of Edward’s army. The waste in which Wallace had laid the adjoining
counties, rendered the provisioning of so large a host difficult: and
besides, as it was composed of a mixed multitude, from every land on which
the King of England had set his invading foot, harmony could not be
expected to continue amongst its leaders. Delay was therefore an advantage
to the Scottish Regent; and observing that his enemy held back as if he
wished to draw him from his position; he determined not to stir, although
he might seem to be struck with awe of so great an adversary.
To this end he offered him
peace; hoping either to obtain what he asked (which he did not deem
probable,) or, by filling Edward with an idea of his fear, urge him to
precipitate himself forward; to avoid the dangers of a prolonged sojourn
in so barren a country, and to take Wallace, as he might think, in his
panic. Instructing his heralds what to say, he sent them on to Roycross, [Roycross
was erected on the heath of Stanmore (a stony tract between Richmondshire
and Cumberland), by William the First of England, and Malcolm III. of
Scotland, as the boundary mark of their separate dominions.—(1809.)]
near which the tent of the King of England was pitched. Supposing that his
enemy was now at his feet, and ready to beg the terms he had before
rejected, Edward admitted the ambassadors, and bade them deliver their
message. Without further parley, the herald spoke.
"Thus saith Sir
William Wallace. Were it not that the kings and nobles of the realm of
Scotland, have ever asked redress of injuries, before they sought revenge,
you, King of England, and invader of our country! should not now behold
orators in your camp, persuading concord; but an army in battle array,
advancing to the onset. Our Lord Regent being of the ancient opinion of
his renowned predecessors, that the greatest victories are never of such
advantage to a conqueror, as an honourable and bloodless peace, sends to
offer this peace to you, at the price of restitution. The lives you have
rifled from us, you cannot restore; but the noble Lord Douglas, whom you
now unjustly detain a prisoner, we demand; and that you retract those
claims on our monarchy, which never had existence, till ambition begot
them on the basest treachery. Grant these just requisitions, and we lay
down our arms; but continue to deny them, and our nation is ready to rise
to a man, and with heart and hand avenge the injuries we have sustained.
You have wasted our lands, burnt our towns, and imprisoned our nobility.
Without consideration of age or condition, women, children, and feeble old
men, have, unresisting, fallen by your sword. And why was all this? Did
our confidence in your honour offend you, that you put ours chieftains in
durance, and deprived our yeomanry of their lives? Did the benedictions
with which our prelates hailed you as the arbitrator between our princes,
raise your ire, that you burnt their churches, and slew them on the altars
?- These, O King! were thy deeds; and for these, William Wallace is in
arms. But yield us the peace we ask; withdraw from our quarters;
relinquish your unjust pretentsions; and we shall once more consider
Edward of England, as the kinsman of Alexander the Third; and his
subjects, the friends, and allies of our realm."
Not in the least moved by
this address, Edward contemptuously answered, "Intoxicated by a
transitory success, your leader is vain enough to suppose that be can
discomfit the King of England, as he has done his unworthy officers—by
fierce and insolent words! but we are not so weak as to be overthrown by a
breath, nor so base as to bear argument from (rebel. I come to claim my
own; to assert my supremacy over Scotland !—and it shall acknowledge its
liege lord, or be left a desert; without a living creature, to say ’This
was a kingdom.’ Depart; this is my answer to you; your leader shall
receive his, at the point of my lance."
Wallace, who did not expect
a more favourable reply, ere his ambassadors returned had marshalled his
lines for the onset. Lord Bothwell, with Murray his valiant son, took the
lead on the left wing; Sir Eustace Maxwell, and Kirkpatrick, commanded on
the right. Graham (in whose quick observation, and promptitude to bring it
to effect, Wallace placed the first confidence) held the reserve behind
the woods; and the Regent himself, with Edwin and his brave
standard-bearer,
occupied the centre. Having heard the report of his messengers, he
repeated to his troops the answer they had brought: and while he stood at
the head pf the lines, he exhorted them to remember that on that day the
eyes of all Scotland would be upon them. They were the first of their
country, who had gone forth to meet the tyrant in a pitched battle; and in
proportion to the danger they confronted, would be their meed of glory. "But
it is not for renown, merely, that you are called
upon to fight this day:" said he; "your rights, your homes are at
stake. You have no hope of security for your lives, but in an unswerving
determination to keep the field; and let the world see, how much more
might lies in the arms of a few, contending for their country and hereditary
liberties, than to hosts, which seek for blood and spoil. Slavery and
freedom lie before you! Shrink but one backward step, and yourselves are in
bondage, your wives become the prey of violence. Be firm: trust Him who
blesses the righteous cause, and victory will crown your arms !"
Though affecting to despise his young opponent, Edward was
too good a general, really to contemn an enemy who had so often proved himself
worthy of respect; and therefore, by declaring his determination to put all the
Scottish chieftains to death; and to transfer their estates to his
conquering officers, he stimulated their avarice, as well as love of fame;
and with every passion in arms, they rushed to the combat.
Wallace stood unmoved.—Not a bow was drawn, till the
impetuous squadrons, in full charge towards the flanks of the Scots, fell
into the pits: then it was that the Highland archers on the hill, lauched their arrows: the plunging horses were instantly overwhelmed by
others, who could not be checked in their career. New showers of darts
rained upon them; and sticking into their flesh, made them rear, and roll
upon their riders: while others, who were wounded, but had escaped the
pits, flew back in rage of pain upon the advancing infantry. A confusion
ensued; so perilous, that the King thought it necessary to precipitate
himself forward; and in person attack the main body of his adversary,
which yet stood inactive. Giving the spur to his charger, he ordered his
troops to press on over the struggling heaps before
them; and being obeyed, with much difficulty and great loss, he passed
the first range of pits: but a second and a wider, awaited him; and there,
seeing his men sink into them by squadrons, he beheld the whole army of
Wallace close in upon them. Terrific was now the havoc.—The very numbers
of the Southrons, and the mixed discipline, of their army, proved its
bane. In the tumult, they hardly understood the orders which were given;
and some mistaking them, acted so contrary to the intended movements, that
Edward, galloping from one end of the field to the other, appeared like a
frantic man, regardless of every personal danger, so that he could but
fix others to front the same tempest of death with himself. His officers
trembled at every step be took, for fear that some of the secret pits
should ingulf him. However, the unshrinking courage of their monarch,
rallied a part of the distracted army, which, with all the force of
desperation, he drove against the centre of the Scots. But at this
juncture, the reserve under Graham having turned the royal position,
charged him in the rear; and the archers redoubling their discharge of
artillery, the Flanderkins, who were in the van of Edward, suddenly giving
way with cries of tenor, the amazed King found himself obliged to retreat,
or run the risk of being taken. He gave a signal; the first of the kind he
had ever sounded in his life; and drawing his English troops around him,
after much hard fighting fell back in tolerable order beyond the confines
of his camp.
