Bothwell Dungeons.
Having rewarded his trusty followers with their promised war-bonnets
from the hand of Helen, and dispatched them onward to the foot of
Cartiane 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 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** of England has burned 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 standard of Edward I, was a golden dragon--a very ancient British
standard, but derived from pagan times.-(1809.)
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 these
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 armor, with a train of Southron soldiers, following
the 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 as 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 our 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-ax 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 rest,
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 leveled 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 arras by a back door which led to some private rooms, hastily made
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!" he cried; "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' threatening eyes--" He was
interrupted by a clamor 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 armor.
"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 affrighted 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 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 (among 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 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
neighbors 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 toward 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 were 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 armor. Murray 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 tip 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 fugitive 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 a
gleam of light which burst into the vault, a man descending in English
armor), 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
toward the young Scot, and would certainly have cut him to pieces, had
he not snatched the only remaining torch out of the hand of the
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 not 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 he
stairs at the extremity of the vault.