HAVING rewarded his trusty followers
with their promised war-bonnets from the hand of Helen, and despatched
them onward to the foot of Cartlane craigs, to await his arrival with the
larger levy; Murray proceeded to the apartment of Lord Mar, to inform him
how far he had executed his commands, and to learn his future orders. He
found the veteran Earl surrounded by arms and armed men; fifty brave
Scots, who were to lead the three hundred then on Bothwell Moor, were
receiving their spears and swords, and other weapons, from the hands of
their lord.
"Bear these stoutly,
my gallant countrymen," cried he, "and remember, that although
the dragon [The standard of Edward I. was a golden dragon :—a very
ancient British standard, but derived from pagan times.—1809.) of
England has burnt up your harvests, and laid our homes in ashes; there is
yet a lion in Scotland to wither his power, and glut you with his
spoil!"
The interest of the scene, and the
clatter of the arms he was dispensing, prevented anybody present hearing
any sound of what was taking place beyond the room. But the Earl had
hardly uttered those words, when the double-doors of the apartment were
abruptly opened, and all eyes were
blasted by the sudden sight of Lord Soulis, and a man in splendid English
armour, with a train of Southron soldiers, following this recreant Scot. [William
Lord Soulis was a powerful chief in the south of Scotland. He founded
pretensions to the Scottish crown, on his descent from an illegitimate
daughter of Alexander II. Soulis was a traitor to his country, and so
notoriously wicked, that tradition endows him with the power of infernal
necromancy. His castle of Hermitage, in Teviotdale, is still shown the
resort of malignant demons.—(1809.)]
The Earl started from his
couch. "Lord Soulis! what is the occasion of this unapprised
visit?"
"The ensign of the
liege lord of Scotland, is my warrant" replied he: "you are my
prisoner; and in the name of King Edward of England, I take possession of
this castle."
"Never !" cried
the Earl, "while there is a man’s arm within it."
"Man and woman,"
returned Lord Soulis, "must surrender to Edward. Three thousand
English have seized three hundred of your insurgents, on Bothwell Moor.
The castle is surrounded, and resistance impossible. Throw down your
arms!" cried he, turning to the clansmen, who thronged round their
chief; "or be hanged for rebellion against your lawful
sovereign!"
"Our lawful
sovereign!" returned a young man who stood near him, "must be
the enemy of Edward; and to none else will we yield our arms!"
"Traitor!" cried
the English commander, while with a sudden and dreadful stroke of his
battle-axe, he laid the body of the generous Scot a headless corpse at his
feet. A direful cry proceeded from his enraged comrades. Every sword was
drawn; and before the bewildered and soul-struck Earl could utter a word,
the furies blew their most horrible blast through the chamber; and the
half-frantic Mar beheld his brave Scots at one moment victorious, and in
the next the floor strewed with their dead bodies. A new succession of
blood-hounds had rushed in at every door; and before the exterminating
sword was allowed to vest, the whole of his faithful troops lay around
him, wounded and dying. Several had fallen across his body; having warded
with their lives the strokes they believed levelled at his. In vain his
voice had called upon his men to surrender—in vain he had implored the
iron-hearted Soulis, and his coadjutor Aymer de Valence, to stop the havoc
of death.
All now lay in blood; and
the heat of the room thronged by the victors, became so intolerable that
De Valence, for his own sake, ordered the Earl to be removed into another
apartment.
Meanwhile, unconscious of
these events, Helen had lain down on her bed, to seek a few minutes’
repose; and having watched the whole of the preceding night, was sunk into
a profound sleep.
Murray, who was present at
the abrupt entrance of the enemy, no sooner heard them declare that the
castle was surrounded by a comparatively large army, than he foresaw all
would be lost. On the instant, and before the dreadful signal of carnage
was given in the fall of the young Scot, he slid behind the canopy of his
uncle’s couch; and lifting the arms, by a back door which led to some
private rooms, hastily made his way to the chamber of his cousin. As he
hurried along, he heard a fearful shout. He paused for a moment, but
thinking it best, whatever might have happened, to secure the safety of
Helen, he flew onward and entered her room. She lay upon the bed in a deep
sleep. " Awake! Helen," cried he; "for your life awake
!"
She opened her eyes; but,
without allowing her time to speak, he hastily added, " The castle is
full of armed men, led hither by the English commander Aymer de Valence, and
the execrable Soulis. Unless you fly through the vaulted passage, you will
be their prisoner."
Helen gazed at him in
terror: "Where is my father? Leave him, I cannot."
"Fly, in pity to your
father! Oh, do not hesitate! What will be his anguish, should you fall
into the hands of the furious man whose love you have rejected; when it
will no longer be in the power of a parent to preserve your person from
the outrages of his eager and avengeful passion! If you had seen Soulis’s
threatening eyes—" He was interrupted by a clamour in the opposite
gallery, and the shrieks of women. Helen grasped his arm: "Alas, my
poor damsels! I will go with you, whither you will, to be far from
him."
As Murray threw his arm
about her waist, to impel her failing steps, his eyes fell on the banner
and the suit of armour.
"All
else must be left," exclaimed he, seizing the banner; and hurrying
Helen forward, he hastened with her down the stairs which led from the
western watch-tower to the vaults beneath the castle. On entering the
first cellar, to which a dim light was admitted through a small grating
near the top, he looked round for the archway that contained the avenue of
their release. Having descried it, and raised one of the large flags which
paved the floor, he assisted his afrighted cousin down a short flight of
steps, into the secret passage: "This," whispered he, "will
carry us in a direct line to the cell of the prior of St. Fillan."
"But what will become
of my father, and Lady Mar? This flight, while they are in danger! oh I I
fear to complete it !"
"Rather fear the
libertine Soulis," returned Murray "he can only make them
prisoners; and even that injury shall be of short duration I will soon
join the brave Wallace, and then, my sweet cousin, liberty, and a happy
meeting !"
Alas, his venerable harper;"
cried she, suddenly remembering Halbert; "should he be discovered to
have belonged to Wallace, he, too, will be massacred by these merciless
men."
Murray stopped: "Have
you courage to remain in this darkness alone? If so, I will seek him, and
he shall accompany us."
Helen had courage for
anything but the dangers Murray might encounter, by returning into the
castle; but the generous youth had entered too fully into her
apprehensions concerning the old man to be withheld. " Should I be
delayed in coming back," said he, recollecting the possibility of
himself being attacked and slain, "go forward to the end of this
passage; it will lead you to a flight of stairs; ascend them; and by
drawing the bolt of a door, you will find yourself at once in the prior’s
cell."
"Talk not of delay,"
replied Helen; "return quickly, and I will await you at the entrance
of the passage." So saying, she swiftly retraced with him her steps
to the bottom of the stone stairs by which they had descended. He raised
the flag, sprung out of the aperture, and closing it down, left her in
solitude and darkness.
Murray passed through the
first cellar, and was proceeding to the second (amongst the catacombs of
which lay the concealed entrance to the private stairs,) when he saw the
great gates of the cellar open, and a large party of English soldiers
enter. They were conducted by the butler of the castle, who seemed to
perform his office very unwillingly, while they crowded in, thirsty and
riotous.
Aware how unequal his
single arm would be, to contend with such numbers, Murray, at the first
glance of these plunderers, retreated behind a heap of casks in a remote
corner. While the trembling butler was loading a dozen of the men with
flasks for the refreshment of their masters above, the rest were helping
themselves from the adjacent catacombs. Some left the cellars with their
booty, and others remained to drink it on the spot. Glad to escape the
insults of the soldiers, who lay wallowing in the wine, Bothwell’s old
servant quitted the cellar, with the last company which bore flagons to
their comrades above.
Murray listened anxiously,
in hopes of hearing from his garrulous neighbours some intimation of the
fate of his uncle and aunt. He hearkened in vain, for nothing was uttered
by these intoxicated banditti, but loud boastings of the number each had
slain in the Earl’s apartment; execrations against the Scots for their
obstinate resistance; and a thousand sanguinary wishes, that the nation
had but one neck, to strike off at a blow.
How often, during this
conversation, was Murray tempted to rush out amongst them, and seize a
desperate revenge! But the thought of his poor cousin, now awaiting his
return, and perhaps already suffering dreadful alarms from such
extraordinary uproar, restrained him ; and unable to move from his
hiding-place, without precipitating himself into instant death, he
remained nearly an hour in the most painful anxiety, watching the dropping
to sleep of this horrid crew, one by one.
When
all seemed hushed—not a voice, even in a whisper, startling his ear—he
ventured forth with a stealing step, towards the slumbering group. Like
his brave ancestor Gaul, the son of Morni, "he disdained to stab a
sleeping foe!" He must pass them to reach the private stairs. He
paused and listened. Silence still reigned; not even a hand moved, so
deeply wire they sunk in the fumes of wine. He took courage, and flew with
the lightness of air to the secret door. As he laid his hand on it, it
opened from without, and two persons appeared. By the few rays which
gleamed from the expiring torches of the sleepers, he could see that the
first wore English armour. Murray believed himself lost; but determined to
sell his life dearly, he made a spring, and caught the man by the throat;
when some one seizing his arm, exclaimed, "Stop, my Lord Murray! it
is the faithful Grimsby." Murray let go his hold, glad to find that
both his English friend, and the venerable object of his solicitude, were
thus providentially brought to meet him; but fearing that the violence of
his action, and Halbert’s exclamation, might have alarmed the sleeping
soldiers, (who, drunk as they were, were too numerous to be resisted,) he
laid his finger on the lip of Grimsby, and motioned to the astonished pair
to follow him.
As they advanced, they
perceived one of the soldiers move as if disturbed. Murray held his sword
over the sleeping wretch, ready to plunge it into his heart should he
attempt to rise: but he became still again; and the fugitives having
approached the flag, Murray drew it up, and eager to haven his double
charge, he thrust them together down the stairs. At that moment, a shriek
from Helen, (who had discovered, by the gleam of light which burst into
the vault, a man descending in English armour,) echoed through the
cellars. Two of the soldiers jumped upon their feet, and rushed upon
Murray. He had let the flag drop behind him; but still remaining by it, in
case of an opportunity to escape, he received the strokes of their weapons
upon his target, and returned them with equal rapidity. One assailant lay
gasping at his feet. But the clashing of arms, and the cries of the
survivor, had already awakened the whole crew. With horrid menaces, they
threw themselves towards the young Scot, and would certainly have cut him
to pieces, had he not snatched the only remaining torch out of the hand of
a staggering soldier, and extinguished it under his foot. Bewildered where
to find their prey, with threats and imprecations, they groped in
darkness, slashing the air with their swords, and not unfrequently
wounding each other in the vain search.
Murray was now far from
their pursuit. He had no sooner put out the light, than he pulled up the
flag, and leaping down, drew it after him, and found himself in safety.
Desperate as was the contest, it had been short; for he yet heard the
footsteps of the panic-struck Helen, flying along the passage. The
Englishman and Halbert on the first falling of the flag, not knowing its
spring, had unsuccessfully tried to re-raise it, that they might assist
Murray in the tumult above. On his appearing again so unexpectedly, they
declared their joy; but the young lord, impatient to calm the
apprehensions of his cousin, returned no other answer than "Follow me
!" while he darted forward. Terror had given her wings; and even
prevented her hearing the low sounds of Murray’s voice, which he durst
nor raise to a higher pitch, for fear of being overheard by the enemy.
Thus, while she lost all presence of mind, he did not come up with her
till she fell breathless against the stairs at the extremity of the vault.
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