Part 61 (1/2)
”Who are you?” at length demanded Edward, who, surprised at the n.o.ble mien and unabashed carriage of the minstrel, conceived some suspicions of his quality.
Wallace saw what was pa.s.sing in the king's mind, and determining by a frank reply to uproot his doubts, mildly but fearlessly answered:
”A Scot.”
”Indeed!” said the king, satisfied that no incendiary would dare thus to proclaim himself. ”And how durst you, being of that outlawed nation, venture into my court? Feared you not to fall a sacrifice to my indignation against the mad leader of your rebellious countrymen?”
”I fear nothing on earth,” replied Wallace. ”This garb is privileged, none who respect that sacred law dare commit violence on a minstrel, and against them who regard no law but that of their own wills, I have this weapon to defend me.” As Wallace spoke he pointed to a dirk stuck in his girdle.
”You are a bold man, and an honest man, I believe,” replied the king; ”and as my queen desires it, I order your enrollment in my traveling train of musicians. You may leave the presence.”
”Then follow me to my apartment,” cried the queen; ”countess, you will accompany me, to see me take my first lesson.”
A page took up the harp; and Wallace, bowing his head to the king, was conducted by Gloucester to the anteroom of the queen's apartments. The earl there told him, that when dismissed by the queen, a page he would leave would show him the way back to Lord Carrick.
The royal Margaret herself opened the door, so eager was she to admit her teacher; and placing herself at the harp, she attempted a pa.s.sage of ”The Triumph,” which had particularly struck her, but she played wrong. Wallace was asked to set her right; he obeyed. She was quick--he clear in his explanations; and in less than half an hour he made her execute the whole movement in a manner that delighted her.
”Why, minstrel,” cried she, looking up in his face, ”either your harp is enchanted, or you are a magician. I have studied three long years to play the lute, and could never bring forth any tone that did not make me ready to stop my own ears. And now, countess,” cried she, again touching a few chords, ”did you ever hear anything so enchanting?”
”I suppose,” returned the countess, ”all your former instructors have been novices, and this Scot alone knows the art to which they pretended.”
”Do you hear what the countess says?” exclaimed the queen, affecting to whisper to him; ”she will not allow of any spiritual agency in my wonderfully-awakened talent. If you can contradict her, do; for I want very much to believe in fairies, magicians, and all the enchanting world!”
Wallace, with a respectful smile, answered, ”I know of now spirit that has interposed in your majesty's favor but that of your own genius; and it is more efficient than the agency of all fairy-land.”
The queen looked at him very gravely, and said, ”If you really think there are no such things as fairies and enchantments, for so your words would imply, then everybody in your country must have genius, for they seem to be excellent in everything. Your warriors are so peerlessly brave--all, excepting these Scottish lords who are such favorites with the king! I wonder what he can see in their uncouth faces, or find in their rough indelicate conversation to admire. If it had not been for their besetting my gracious Edward, I am sure he never would have suspected ill of the n.o.ble Bruce!”
”Queen Margaret!” cried the Countess of Gloucester, giving her a look of respectful reprehension; ”had not the minstrel better retire?”
The queen blushed, and recollected that she was giving too free a vent to her sentiments; but she could not suffer Wallace to withdraw.
”I have yet to ask you,” resumed she--”the warriors of Scotland being so resistless, and their minstrels so perfect in their art--whether all the ladies can be so beautiful as the Lady Helen Mar?”
The eagerness with which Wallace grasped at any tidings of her who was so prime an object of his enterprise at once disturbed the composure of his air, and had the penetrating eyes of the countess been then directed toward him, she might have drawn some dangerous conclusions from the start he gave at the mention of her name, and from the heightened color which, in spite of his exertions to suppress all evident emotion, maintained its station on his cheek.
”But, perhaps you have never seen her?” added the queen.
Wallace replied, neither denying nor affirming her question: ”I have heard many praise her beauty, but more her virtues.”
”Well, I am sorry,” continued her majesty, ”since you sing so sweetly of female charms, that you have not seen this wonder of Scottish ladies. You have now little chance of that good fortune, for Earl de Valence has taken her abroad, intending to marry her amidst all the state with which my lord has invested him.”
”Is it to Guienne he has taken her?” inquired Wallace.
”Yes,” replied the queen, rather pleased than offended at the minstrel's ignorance of court ceremony in thus familiarly presuming to put a question to her. She continued to answer: ”While so near Scotland he could not win her to forget her native country and her father's danger, who it seems was dying when De Valence carried her away. And, to prevent bloodshed between the earl and Soulis, who is also madly in love with her, my ever-gracious Edward gave the English lord a high post in Guienne, and thither they are gone.”
Before Wallace could reply to some remark which the queen laughingly added to her information, the countess thought it proper to give her gay mother-in-law a more decisive reminder of decorum, and, rising, she whispered something which covered the youthful Margaret in blushes.
Her majesty rose directly, and pus.h.i.+ng away the harp, hurryingly said: ”You may leave the room;” and turning her back to Wallace, walked away through an opposite door.
Chapter LIX.