Part 24 (1/2)

”So am I true to a soldier's duty,” returned Wallace, ”though De Valence is a traitor to his!”

”You treated him as a man,” replied Kirkpatrick, ”but now you find him a treacherous fiend!”

”Your eagerness, my brave friend,” returned Wallace, ”has lost him as a prisoner. If not for humanity or honor, for policy's sake, we ought to have spared his life, and detained him as an hostage for our countrymen in England.”

Kirkpatrick remembered how his violence had released the earl, and he looked down abashed. Wallace, perceiving it, continued, ”But let us not abuse our time discoursing on a coward. He is gone, the fortress is ours, and our first measure must be to guard if from surprise.”

As he spoke, his eyes fell upon Edwin, who, having recovered from the shock of Murray's exclamation, had brought forward the surgeon of their little band. A few minutes bound up the wounds of their chief, even while beckoning the anxious boy towards him. ”Brave youth,” cried he, ”you, at the imminent risk of your own life, explored these heights, that you might render our ascent more sure; you who have fought like a young lion in this unequal contest! here, in the face of all your valiant comrades, receive that knighthood which rather derives l.u.s.ter from your virtues than gives additional consequence to your name.”

With a bounding heart Edwin bent his knee, and Wallace giving him the hallowed accolade,** the young knight rose from his position with all the roses of his springing fame glowing in his countenance. Scrymgeour presented him the knightly girdle, which he unbraced from his own loins, and while the happy boy received the sword to which it was attached, he exclaimed, with animation, ”While I follow the example before my eyes, I shall never draw this in an unjust cause, nor ever sheath it in a just one.”

**Accolade, the three strokes of the sword given in knighting.

”Go, then,” returned Wallace, smiling his approval of this sentiment, ”while work is to be done I will keep my knight to the toil; go, and with twenty men of Lanark, guard the wall by which we ascended.”

Edwin disappeared, and Wallace, having dispatched detachments to occupy other parts of the garrison, took a torch in his hand and, turning to Murray, proposed seeking the Earl of Mar. Lord Andrew was soon at the iron door which led from the hall to the princ.i.p.al stairs.

”We must have our friendly battering-ram here,” cried he; ”a close prisoner do they indeed keep my uncle when even the inner doors are bolted on him.”

The men dragged the tree forward, and striking it against the iron, it burst open with the noise of thunder. Shrieks from within followed the sound. The women of Lady Mar, not knowing what to suppose during the uproar of the conflict, now hearing the door forced, expected nothing less than that some new enemies were advancing; and, giving themselves up to despair, they flew into the room where the countess sat in equal though less clamorous terror.

At the shouts of the Scots, when they began the attack, the earl had started from his couch. ”That is not peace!” said he; ”there is some surprise!”

”Alas, from whom?” returned Lady Mar; ”who would venture to attack a fortress like this, garrisoned with thousands?”

The cry was repeated.

”It is the slogan of Sir William Wallace!” cried he; ”I shall be free!

O, for a sword! Hear, hear!”

As the shouts redoubled, and, mingled with the various clangors of battle, drew nearer the tower, the impatience of the earl could not be restrained. Hope and eagerness seemed to have dried up his wounds and new-strung every nerve, while unarmed as he was, he rushed from the apartment, and hurried down the stairs which led to the iron door. He found it so firmly fastened by bars and padlocks, he could not move it.

Again he ascended to his terrified wife, who, conscious how little obligation Wallace owed to her, perhaps dreaded even more to see her husband's hopes realized than to find herself yet more rigidly the prisoner of the haughty De Valence.

”Joanna!” cried he, ”the arm of G.o.d is with us. My prayers are heard.

Scotland will yet be free. Hear those groans--those shouts. Victory!

victory!”

As he thus echoed the cry of triumph uttered by the Scots when bursting open the outer gate of the tower, the foundations of the building shook, and Lady Mar, almost insensible with terror, received the exhausted body of her husband into her arms; he fainted from the transport his weakened frame was unable to hear. Soon after this the stair-door was forced, and the panic-struck women ran shrieking into the room to their mistress.

The countess could not speak, but sat pale and motionless, supporting his head on her bosom. Guided by the noise, Lord Andrew flew into the room, and rus.h.i.+ng toward his uncle, fell at his feet. ”Liberty!

Liberty!” was all he could say. His words pierced the ear of the earl like a voice from heaven, and looking up, without a word, he threw his arms round the neck of his nephew.

Tears relieved the contending feelings of the countess; and the women, recognizing the young Lord of Bothwell, retired into a distant corner, well a.s.sured they had now no cause for fear.

The earl rested but a moment on the panting breast of his nephew; when, gazing round, to seek the mighty leader of the band, he saw Wallace enter, with the step of security and triumph in his eyes.

”Ever my deliverer!” cried the venerable Mar, stretching forth his arms. The next instant he held Wallace to his breast; and remembering all that he had lost for his sake since they parted, a soldier's heart melted, and he burst into tears. ”Wallace, my preserver; thou victim for Scotland, and for me--or rather, thou chosen of Heaven; who, by the sacrifice of all thou didst hold dear on earth, art made a blessing to thy country!-receive my thanks, and my heart.”