"If such be the tuition of our lords in the court of Edward--and wise is the policy for his own views!" observed Ker, "what can we expect from even the Bruce? They were ever a n.o.bler race than the Baliol; but bad education and luxury will debase the most princely minds."

"I saw neither of the Bruce when I visited London," replied Scrymgeour; "the Earl of Carrick was at his house in Cleveland, and Robert Bruce, his eldest son, with the English army in Guienne. But they bore a manly character, particularly young Robert, to whom the troubadours of Aquitaine have given the flattering appellation of Prince of Chivalry."

"It would be more to his honor," interrupted Murray, "if he compelled the English to acknowledge him as Prince of Scotland. With so much bravery, how can he allow such a civetcat as Edward Baliol to bear away the t.i.tle, which is his by the double right of blood and virtue?"

"Perhaps," said Wallace, "the young lion only sleeps! The time may come, when both he and his father will rise from their lethargy, and throw themselves at once into the arms of Scotland. To stimulate the dormant patriotism of these two princes, by showing them a subject leading their people to liberty, is one great end of the victories I seek. None other than a brave king can bind the various interests of this distracted country into one; and therefore, for fair Freedom's sake, my heart turns toward the Bruces with most anxious hopes."

"For my part," cried Murray, "I have always thought the lady we will not woo we have no right to pretend to. If the Bruces will not be at the pains to s.n.a.t.c.h Scotland from drowning, I see no reason for making them a present of what will cost us many a wet jacket before we tug her from the waves. He that wins the day ought to wear the laurel; and so, once for all, I proclaim him King of good old Albin,** who will have the glory of driving her oppressors beyond her dikes."

**Albin was the ancient name of Scotland.

Wallace did not hear this last sentiment of Murray's, as it was spoken in a lowered voice in the ear of Kirkpatrick. "I perfectly agree with you," was the knight's reply; "and in the true Roman style, may the death of every Southron now in Scotland, and as many more as fate chooses to yield us, be the preliminary games of his coronation!"

Wallace, who heard this, turned to Kirkpatrick with a mild rebuke in his eye. "Balaam blessed, when he meant to curse!" said he; "but some curse, when they mean to bless. Such prayers are blasphemy. For, can we expect a blessing on our arms, when all our invocations are for vengeance rather than victory?"

"Blood for blood is only justice!" returned Murray; "and how can you, n.o.ble Wallace, as a Scot, and as a man, imply any mercy to the villains who stab us to the heart?"

"I plead not for them," replied Wallace, "but for the poor wretches who follow their leaders, by force, to the field of Scotland; I would not inflict on them the cruelties we now resent. It is not to aggrieve, but to redress, that we carry arms. If we make not this distinction, we turn courage into a crime; and plant disgrace, instead of honor, upon the warrior's brow."

"I do not understand commiserating the wolves who have so long made havoc in our country," cried Kirkpatrick; "methinks such maidenly mercy is rather or of place."

Wallace turned to him with a smile: "I will answer you, my valiant friend, by adopting your own figure. It is that these Southron wolves may not confound us with themselves, that I wish to show in our conduct rather the generous ardor of the faithful guardian of the fold, than the rapacious fierceness which equals them with the beasts of the desert. As we are men and Scots, let the burden of our prayers be, the preservation of our country, not the slaughter of our enemies! The one is an ambition, with which angels may sympathize; the other, a horrible desire, which speaks the nature of fiends."

"In some cases this may be," replied Sir Roger, a little reconciled to the argument, "but not in mine. My injury yet burns upon my cheek; and as nothing but the life blood of Cressingham can quench it, I will listen no more to your doctrine till I am avenged. That done, I shall not forget your lesson."

"Generous Kirkpatrick!" exclaimed Wallace, "nothing that is really cruel can dwell with such manly candor. Say what you will, I can trust your heart after this moment."

They had crossed the River Ennerie, and were issuing from between its narrow ridge of hills, when Wallace, pointing to a stupendous rock which rose in solitary magnificence in the midst of a vast plain, exclaimed, "There is Dumbarton Castle!-that citadel holds the fetters of Scotland; and if we break them there, every minor link will easily give way."

The men uttered a shout of antic.i.p.ated triumph at this sight; and proceeding, soon came in view of the fortifications which helmeted the rock. As they approached, they discovered that it had two summits, being in a manner cleft in twain; the one side rising in a pyramidal form; while the other, of a more table-shape, sustained the ponderous buildings of the fortress.

It was dusk when the little army arrived in the rear of a close thicket to a considerable length over the plain. On this spot Wallace rested his men; and while they placed themselves under its covert till the appointed time of attack, he perceived through an opening in the wood, the gleaming of soldiers' arms on the ramparts, and fires beginning to light on a lonely watchtower, which crowned the pinnacle of the highest rock.

"Poor fools!" exclaimed Murray; "like the rest of their brethren of clay, they look abroad for evils, and prepare not for those which are even at their doors!"

"That beacon-fire," cried Scrymgeour, "shall light us to their chambers; and for once we thank them for their providence."

"That beacon-fire," whispered Edwin to Wallace, "shall light me to honor! To-night, by your agreement, I shall call you brother, or lie dead on the summit of those walls!"

"Edwin," said Wallace, "act as you say; and deserve not only to be called my brother, but to be the first banneret of freedom in arms!"

He then turned toward the lines; and, giving his orders to each division, directed them to seek repose on the surrounding heather, till the now glowing moon should have sunk her telltale light in the waves.

Chapter XXII.

Dumbarton Rock.

All obeyed the voice of their commander, and retired to rest. But the eyes of Edwin could not close; his eager spirit was already on the walls of Dumbarton. His rapid mind antic.i.p.ated the ascent of his general and his troop. But an imagination no less just than ardent suggested the difficulties attending so small a force a.s.sailing so formidable a garrison, without some immediate knowledge of its relative situations. A sudden thought struck him. He would mount that rock alone; he would seek to ascertain the place of Lord Mar's confinement; that not one life in Wallace's faithful band might be lost in a vague search.

"Ah! my general," exclaimed he, "Edwin shall be the first to spring those ramparts; he shall tread that dangerous path alone; and when he has thus proved himself no unworthy of thy confidence, he will return to lead thee and thy soldiers to a sure victory, and himself to honor by thy side!"

This fervant apostrophe, breathed to the night alone, was no sooner uttered, than he stole from the thicket into which he had cast himself to respose. He looked toward the embattled cliff; its summit stood bright in the moonlight, but deep shadows lay beneath. "G.o.d be my speed!" cried he, and wrapping himself in his plaid, so mixed its dark hues with the weeds and herbage at the base of the rock, that he made its circuit without having attracted observation.

The south side seemed the easiest of ascent and by that he began his daring attempt. Having gained the height, he clambered behind a b.u.t.tress, the shadow of which cast the wall into such black obscurity, that he crept safely through one of its crenelles, and dropping gently inward, alighted on his feet. Still keeping the shadowed side of the battlements, he proceeded cautiously along, and so still was his motion that he pa.s.sed undiscovered, even by the sentinels who guarded this quarter of the fortress.

He soon arrived at the open square before the citadel; it was yet occupied by groups of Southron officers, gayly walking to and fro under the light of the moon. In hopes of gaining some useful information from their discourse, he concealed himself behind a chest of arrows; and as they pa.s.sed backward and forward, distinctly heard them jesting each other about divers fair dames of the country around. The conversation terminated in a debate, whether or no the indifference which their governor De Valence manifested to the majestic beauties of the Countess of Mar were real or a.s.sumed. A thousand free remarks were made on the subject, and Edwin gathered sufficient from the discourse, to understand that the earl and countess were treated severely, and confined in a large, square tower in the cleft of the rock.

Having learned all that he could expect from these officers, he speeded, under the friendly shadow, toward the other side of the citadel, and arrived just as the guard approached to relieve the sentinels of the northern postern. He laid himself close to the ground, and happily overheard the word of the night, as it was given to the new watch. This providential circ.u.mstances saved his life.

Finding no mode of egress from this place but by the postern at which the sentinel was stationed, or by attempting a pa.s.sage through a small adjoining tower, the door of which stood open, he considered a moment, and then deciding for the tower, stole un.o.bserved into it. Fortunately no person was there; but Edwin found it full of spare arms, with two or three vacant couches in different corners, where he supposed the officers on guard occa.s.sionally reposed; several watch-cloaks lay on the floor. He readily apprehended the use he might make of this circ.u.mstance, and throwing one of them over his shoulders climbed to a large embrasure in the wall, and, forcing himself through it, dropped to a declivity on the other side, which shelved down to the cliff, wherein he saw the square tower.

He had scarcely alighted on firm ground, when a sentinel, followed by two others presented pikes, approached him, and demanded the word.

"Montjoy!" was his reply. "Why leap the embrasure?" said one. "Why not enter by the postern?" demanded another. The conversation of the officers had given him a hint, on which he had formed his answer.

"Love, my brave comrades," replied he, "seldom chooses even ways. I go on a message from a young ensign in the keep, to one of the Scottish damsels in yonder tower. Delay me, and his vengeance will fall upon us all." "Good luck to you, my lad!" was their answer, and, with a lightened step, he hastened toward the tower.

Not deeming it safe to seek an interview with any of the earl's family, he crept along the base of the structure, and across the works, till he reached the high wall that blocks up egress from the north. He found this formidable curtain constructed of fragments of rock, and for the convenience of the guard, a sloping platform from within led to the top of the wall. On the other side it was perpendicular. A solitary sentinel stood there; and how to pa.s.s him was Edwin's next device. To attack him would be desparate; being one of a chain of guards around the interior of the fortress, his voice need only to be raised in the least to call a regiment to his a.s.sistance, and Edwin might be seized on the instant.

Aware of his danger, but not dismayed, the adventurous youth bethought him of his former excuse; and remembering a flask of spirits which Ireland had put into his pouch on leaving Glenfinla.s.s, he affected to be intoxicated, and staggering up to the man, accosted him in the character of a servant of the garrison.

The sentinel did not doubt the appearance of the boy, and Edwin, holding out the flask, said that a pretty girl in the great tower had not only given him a long draught of the same good liquor but had filled his bottle, that he might not lack amus.e.m.e.nt, while her companion; one of Lady Mar's maids-in-waiting, was tying up a true lover's knot to send to his master in the garrison. The man believed Edwin's tale, and the more readily as he thrust the flask into his hand, and bade him drink. "Do not spare it," cried he; "the night is chilly, and I shall get more where that came from."

The unsuspecting Southron returned him a merry reply, and putting the flask to his head, soon drained its contents. They had the effect Edwin desired. The soldier became fl.u.s.tered, and impatient of his duty. Edwin perceived it, and yawning, complained of drowsiness. "I would go to the top of that wall, and sleep sweetly in the moonbeams,"

said he, "if any goodnatured fellow would meanwhile wait for my pretty Scot!"

The half-inebriated Southron liked no better sport, and regardless of duty, he promised to draw nearer the tower, and bring from the fair messenger the expected token.

Having thus far gained his point, with an apparently staggering, but really agile step, Edwin ascended the wall. A leap from this dizzy height was his only way to rejoin Wallace. To retread his steps through the fortress in safety would hardly be possible, and, besides, such a mode of retreat would leave him uninformed on the second object of his enterprise-to know the most vulnerable side of the fortress. He threw himself along the summit of the wall as if to sleep. He looked down and saw nothing but the blackness of s.p.a.ce, for here the broad expanse of shadow rendered rocks and building of the same hue and level. But hope buoyed him in her arms, and turning his eyes toward the sentinel, he observed him to have arrived within a few paces of the square tower. This was Edwin's moment: grasping the projecting stone of the embattlement, and commending himself to Heaven, he threw himself from its summit, and fell a fearful depth to the cliffs beneath.

Meanwhile Wallace, having seen his brave followers depart to their respose, reclined himself along a pile of moss grown stones, which in the days of the renowned Fingal, had covered the body of some valiant Morven chieftain. He fixed his wakeful eyes on the castle, now illumined in every part by the fullness of the moon's l.u.s.ter, and considered which point would be most a.s.sailable by the scaling-ladders he had prepared. Every side seemed a precipice; the Leven, surrounding it on the north and the west; the Clyde, broad as a sea, on the south.

The only place that seemed at all accessible was the side next the dike behind which he lay. Here the ascent to the castellated part of the rock, because most perpendicular, was the least guarded with outworks, and by this he determined to make the attempt as soon as the setting moon should involve the garrison in darkness.

While he yet mused on what might be the momentous consequences of the succeeding midnight hours, he thought he heard a swift though cautious footstep. He raised himself, and laying his hands on his sword, saw a figure advancing toward him.

"Who goes there?" demanded Wallace.

"A faithful Scot," was the reply.

Wallace recognized the voice of Edwin.

"What has disturbed you? Why do you not take rest with the others?"

"That we may have it the surer to-morrow!" replied the youth. "I am just returned from the summit of yonder rock."

"How!" interrupted Wallace; "have you scaled it alone, and are returned in safety?"