Cartlane Craigs, and Glenfinlass.
Guided by Ker, Murray led his followers over the Lanark Hills, by the
most untrodden paths; and hence avoided even the sight of a Southron
soldier.
Cheered by so favourable a commencement of their expedition, they even
felt no dismay when, in the gloom of the evening, Ker descried a body
of armed men at a distance, sitting round a fire at the foot of a
beetling rock which guards the western entrance to the Cartlane Craigs.
Murray ordered his men to proceed under covert of the bushes; and then
making the signal (concerted in case of such dilemma), they stuck their
iron crows into the interstices of the cliff, and catching at the
branches which grew out of its precipitous side, with much exertion,
but in perfect silence, at last gained the summit. That effected, they
pursued their way with the same caution, till after a long march, and
without encountering a human being, they reached the base of the huge
rock which Wallace had made his fortress.
Ker, who expected to find it surrounded by the English army, was amazed
at the death-like solitude. "The place is deserted," cried he. "My
brave friend, compelled by the extremity of his little garrison, has
been obliged to surrender."
"We will ascend and see," was Murray's answer.
Ker led round the rock to the most accessible point; and, mounting by
the projecting stones, with some difficulty gained the top. Silence
pervaded every part; and the rugged cavities at the summit, which had
formed the temporary quarters of his comrades, were lonely. On
entering the recess where Wallace used to seek a few minutes' slumber,
the moon, which shone full into the cave, discovered something bright
lying in a distant corner. Ker hastily approached it, recollecting
what means of escape, he would leave some weapon as a sign; a dagger,
if necessity drove him to the south point, where he must fight his way
through the valley; an arrow, if he could effect it without
observation, by the north, as he should then seek an asylum for his
exhausted followers in the wilds of Glenfinlass.
It was the iron head of an arrow which the moon had silvered; and Ker,
catching it up, with a gladdened countenance exclaimed, "He is safe!
this calls us to Glenfinlass." He then explained to Murray what had
been the arrangement of Wallace respecting this sign, and without
hesitation the young lord decided to follow him up that track.
Turning toward the northern part of the cliff, they came to spot
beneath which had been the strongest guard of the enemy, but now, like
the rest, it was entirely abandoned. A narrow winding path led from
this rocky platform to a fall of water, rearing and rushing by the
mouth of a large cavern. After they had descended the main craig, they
clambered over the top of this cave, and, entering upon another sweep
of rugged hills, commenced a rapid march.
Traversing the lower part of Stirlingshire, they crossed Graham's
Dike;** and pursuing their course westward, left Stirling Castle far to
the right. They ascended the Ochil Hills, and proceeding along the
wooded heights which overhang the banks of Teith, forded that river,
and entered at once into the broad valley which opened to them a
distant view of Ben Lomond and Ben Ledi.
**The great wall of Severus, which runs between Abercorn and
Kirkpatrick, being attacked by the Scotts at the time the Romans
abandoned Britain, a huge breach was made in it by Graham (or Greame),
the uncle of the young king of Scots. By this achievement he conquered
the whole of the country as far as the Cheviots, and the wall of
Severus has since been called Graham's Dike-(1809.)
"There," exclaimed Ker, extending his hand toward the cloud-capped
Ledi, "beneath the shadow of that mountain, we shall find the light of
Scotland, our dear master in arms!"
At this intimation, the wearied Murrays--like seamen long harassed on a
tempestuous ocean at sight of a port--uttered a shout of joy; and
hastening forward with renovated strength, met a foaming river in their
path. Despising all obstacles, they rushed in, and, buffeting the
waves, soon found a firm footing on the opposite shore. The sun shone
cheerily above their heads, illuminating the umbrageous sides of the
mountains with a dewy splendor, while Ben Ledi, the standard of their
hope, seemed to wave them on, as the white clouds streamed from its
summit, or, rolling down its dark sides, floated in strange visionary
shapes over the lakes beneath.
When the little troop halted on the shore of Loch Venachoir, the mists
which had lingered on the brow of Ledi slowly descended into the
valley; and covering the mouth of the pass that led from the loch,
seemed to shut them at once between the mountain and that world of
waters. Ker, who had never been in these tracks before, wondered at
their sublimity, and became alarmed lest they should lose their way
amid such infinite windings. But Murray, who remembered having once
explored them with his father, led promptly forward by a steep, rough
road in the side of the mountain. As they clung by the slippery rocks
which overhung the lake, its mists dissolved into a heavy shower, and,
by degrees clearing away, discovered the shining heads of Ben Lomond
and Ben Chochan.
The party soon entered a precipitous labyrinth of craigs; and, passing
onward, gradually descended amid pouring torrents, and gaping chasms
overlaced with branching trees, till the augmented roar of waters
intimated to Murray, they drew near the great fall of Glenfinlass. The
river, though rushing on its course with the noise of thunder, was
scarcely discerned through the thick forest which groaned over its
waves. Here towered a host of stately pines; and there the lofty
beeches, birches, and mountain-oak, bending over the flood, interwove
their giant arms; forming an arch so impenetrable, that while the sun
brightened the tops of the mountains, all beneath lay in deepest
midnight.
The awful entrance to this sublime valley struck the whole party with a
feeling that made them pause. It seemed as it to these sacred
solitudes, hidden in the very bosom of Scotland, no hostile foot dared
intrude. Murray looked at Ker. "We go, my friend, to arouse the
genius of our country! Here are the native fastnesses of Scotland; and
from this pass the spirit will issue that is to bid her enslaved sons
and daughters be free."
They entered, and with beating hearts pursued their way along the
western border of Loch Lubnaig, till the royal heights of
Craignacoheilg showed their summits, covered with heath and many an
ivied turret. The forest, stretching far over the valley, lost its
high trees in the shadows of the surrounding mountains, and told them
they were now in the center of Glenfinlass.
Ker put his bugle to his lips, and sounded the pibroch of Ellerslie. A
thousand echoes returned the notes; and after a pause, which allowed
their last response to die away, the air was answered by a horn from
the heights of Cragnacoheilg. An armed man then appeared on the rock,
leaning forward. Ker drew near, and taking off his bonnet, called
aloud: "Stephen! it is William Ker who speaks. I come with the Lord
Andrew Murray of Bothwell, to the support of our commander, Sir William
Wallace."
At these words, Stephen placed his bugle to his mouth, and in a few
minutes the rock was covered with the members of its little garrison.
Women and children appeared, shouting with joy; and the men, descending
the side near the glen, hastened to bid their comrade welcome. One
advanced toward Murray, whom he instantly recognized to be Sir Roger
Kirkpatrick of Torthorald. The chiefs saluted each other; and Lord
Andrew pointed to his men: "I have brought," said he, "these few brave
fellows to the aid of Sir William Wallace. They should have been more,
but for new events of Southron outrage. Yet I am impatient to lead
them to the presence of my uncle's preserver."
Kirkpatrick's answer disappointed the eager spirit of the young
warrior: "I am sorry, brave Murray, that you have no better knight to
receive you than myself. I and the gallant chief have not yet met; but
I am in arms for him; and the hour of retribution for all our injuries,
I trust, is at hand."
"But where is Sir William Wallace?" demanded Murray.
"Gone toward the Forth, to rouse that part of sleeping Scotland. If
all he meet have my spirit, they will not require a second call. Now
is the time to aim the blow; I shall ever give thanks to the accident
which brought me the welcome news, that an arm is raised to strike it
home."
As he spoke, he led Murray to the rampart-like cliffs which crown the
summit of Craignacoheilg. In the midst stood a tower, which had once
been a favorite hunting-lodge of the great King Fergus. There
Kirkpatrick joyfully greeted his guest a second time: "This," said he,
"is the far-famed lodge of the three kings: here did our lion, Fergus,
attended by his royal allies, Durstus the Pict, and Dionethus the
Briton, spread his board during their huntings in Glenfinlass! And
here eight hundred years ago, did the same heroic prince form the plans
which saved his kingdom from a foreign yoke! On the same spot we will
lay ours; and in their completion, rescue Scotland from a tyranny more
intolerable than that which menaced him. Yes, Murray; there is not a
stone in this building that does not call aloud to us to draw the
sword, and hold it unsheathed till our country be free."
"And by the ghost of that same Fergus, I swear," exclaimed Murray,
"that my honest claymore shall never shroud its head while an invader
be left alive in Scotland."
Kirkpatrick caught him in his arms. "Brave son of the noble Bothwell,
thou art after mine own heart! The blow which the dastard Cressingham
durst aim at a Scottish chief, still smarts upon my cheek; and rivers
of his countrymen's blood shall wash out the stain. After I had been
persuaded by his serpent eloquence to swear fealty to Edward on the
defeat at Dunbar, I vainly thought that Scotland had only changed a
weak and unfortunate prince for a wise and victorious king; but when in
the courts of Stirling, I heard Cressingham propose to the barons north
of the dike, that they should give their strongest castles into English
hands; when I opposed the measure with all the indignation of a Scot
who saw himself betrayed, he first tried to overturn my arguments, and
finding that impossible, while I repeated them with redoubled force--he
struck me!-Powers of earth and heaven, what was then the tempest of my
soul!-I drew my sword--I would have laid him dead at my feet, had not my
obsequious countrymen held my arm, and dragged me from the apartment.
"Covered with dishonor by a blow I could not avenge. I fled to my
brother-in-law, Sir John Scott, of Loch Doine. With him I buried my
injury from the world; but it lived in my heart--it haunted me day and
night, calling for revenge.
"In such an hour, how did I receive the tidings, that Sir William
Wallace was in arms against the tyrant! It was the voice of
retribution, calling me to peace of mind! Even my bedridden kinsman
partook my emotions; and with his zealous concurrence, I led a band of
his hardiest clansmen, to reinforce the brave men of Lanark on this
rock.
"Two days I have now been here, awaiting in anxious impatience the
arrival of Wallace. Yes! we will mingle our injured souls together!
He has made one offering; I must make another! We shall set forth to
Stirling; and there, in the very heart of his den, I will sacrifice the
tiger Cressingham, to the vengeance of our wrongs."
"But what, my brave friend," asked Murray, "are the forces you deem
sufficient for so great an enterprise? How many fighting men may be
counted of Wallace's own company, besides your own?"
"We have here about a hundred," replied Kirkpatrick, "including yours."
"How inadequate to storm so formidable a place as Stirling Castle!"
returned Murray. "Having, indeed, passed the Rubicon, we must go
forward, but resolution, not rashness, should be the principle of our
actions. And my opinion is, that a few minor advantages obtained, our
countrymen would flock to our standard, the enemy would be intimidated,
and we should carry thousands, instead of hundreds, before the walls of
Stirling. To attempt it now would invite defeat, and bring upon us the
ruin of our entire project."
"You are right, young man," cried Kirkpatrick; "my gray head, rendered
impetuous by insult, did not pause on the blind temerity of my scheme.
I would rather for years watch the opportunity of taking a signal
revenge than not accomplish it at last. Oh! I would rather waste all
my life in these solitary wilds and know that at the close of it I
should see the blood of Cressingham on these hands than live a prince
and die unrevenged!"
Stephen and Ker now entered; the latter paid his respects to Sir Roger,
and the former informed Murray that having disposed his present
followers with those who had arrived before, he was come to lead their
lord to some refreshment in the banqueting room of the tower. "What?"
cried Murray, full of glad amazement; "is it possible that my cousin's
faithful band has reached its destination? None other belonging to
Bothwell Castle had any chance of escaping its jailer's hands."
Kirkpatrick interrupted Stephen's reply by saying that while their
guests were at the board he would watch the arrival of certain
expresses from two brave Drummonds, each of whom was to send him a
hundred men: "So, my good Lord Andrew," cried he, striking him on the
shoulder, "shall the snow-launch gather that is to fall on Edward to
his destruction."
Murray heartily shared his zeal, and bidding him a short adieu,
followed Stephen and Ker into the hall. A haunch of venison of
Glenfinlass smoked on the board, and goblets of wine from the bounteous
cellars of Sir John Scott brightened the hopes which glowed in every
heart.
While the young chieftains were recruiting their exhausted strength,
Stephen sat at the table to satisfy the anxiety of Murray to know how
the detachment from Bothwell had come to Craignacoheilg, and by what
fortunate occurrence, or signal act of bravery, Wallace could have
escaped with his whole train from the foe surrounding Cartlane Craigs.
"Heaven smiled on us!" replied Stephen. "The very evening of the day
on which Ker left us there was a carousal in the English camp. We
heard the sound of the song and of riot, and of many an insult cast
upon our besieged selves. But about an hour after sunset the noise
sunk by degrees--a no insufficient hint that the revelers, overcome by
excess, had fallen asleep. At this very time, owing to the heat of the
day, so great a vapor had been exhaled from the lake beneath that the
whole of the northern side of the fortress cliff was covered with a
mist so exceedingly thick we could not discern each other at a foot's
distance. 'Now is the moment!' said our gallant leader; 'the enemy are
stupefied with wine, the rock is clothed in a veil!-it is the shield of
God that is held before us! under its shelter let us pass from their
hands!"
"He called us together, and making the proper dispositions, commanded
the children and women, on their lives, to keep silence. He then led
us to the top of the northern cliff; it overhung an obscure cave which
he knew opened at its extremity. By the assistance of a rope, held
above by several men, our resolute chief (twisting it round one arm to
steady him, and with the other catching by the projecting stones of the
precipice) made his way down the rock, and was the first who descended.
He stood at the bottom, enveloped in the cloud which shrouded the
mountain, till all the men of the first division had cleared the
height; he then marshaled them with their pikes toward the foe, in case
of an alarm. But all remained quiet on that spot, although the sounds
of voices, both in song and laughter, intimated that the utmost
precaution was still necessary, as a wakeful and yet reveling part of
the enemy were not far distant.
"Wallace reascended the rock half way; and receiving the children,
which their trembling mothers lowered into this arms, he handed them to
the old men, who carried them safely through the bushes which obscured
the cave's mouth. The rest of our little garrison soon followed; then
our sentinels, receiving the signal that all were safe, drew silently
from their guard, and closed our march through the cavern.
"This effected, we blocked up its egressing mouth, that, should our
escape be discovered, the enemy might not find the direct road we had
taken.
"We pursued our course without stop or stay till we reached the
hospitable valleys of Stirlingshire. There some king shepherds gave
the woman and children temporary shelter; and Wallace, seeing that if
anything were to be done for Scotland, he must swell the host, put the
part under my guidance, giving me orders that when they were rested I
should march them to Glenfinlass, here to await his return. Selecting
ten men, with that small band he turned toward the Forth, hoping to
meet some valiant friends in that part of the country read to embrace
her cause.
"He had hardly been an hour departed when Dugald observed a procession
of monks descending the opposite mountain. They drew near and halted
in the glen. A crowd of women from the neighboring hills had followed
the train, and were now gathering around a bier which the monks set
down. I know not by what happy fortune I came close to the leader of
the procession, but he saw something in my old rough features that
declared me an honest Scot. 'Friend,' whispered he, 'for charity
conduct us to some safe place where we may withdraw this bier from the
sacrilegious eye of curiosity.'
"I made no hesitation, but desired the train to follow me into a byre
belonging to the good shepherd who was my host. On this motion the
common people went away, and the monks entered the place.
"When the travelers threw up their hoods, which as mourners they had
worn over their faces, I could not help exclaiming, 'Alas, for the
glory of Scotland, that this goodly group of stout young men rather
wear the cowl than the helmet!' 'How!' asked their principal (who did
not appear to have seen thirty years), 'do we not pray for the glory of
Scotland? Such is our weapon.' 'True,' replied I, 'but while Moses
prayed Joshua fought. God gives the means of glory that they should be
used.' 'But for what, old veteran,' said the monk, with a penetrating
look, 'should we exchange our cowl for the helmet? knowest thou
anything of the Joshua who would lead us to the field?' There was
something in the young priest's eyes that seemed to contradict his
pacific words; they flashed as impetuous fire. My reply was short:
'Are you a Scot?' 'I am, in soul and in arms.' 'Then knowest thou not
the chief of Ellerslie?' As I spoke, for I stood close to the bier, I
perceived the pall shake. The monk answered my last question with an
exclamation--'You mean Sir William Wallace!'
"'Yes!' I replied. The bier shook more violently at these words, and,
with my hair bristling from my head, I saw the pall hastily thrown off,
and a beautiful youth, in a shroud, started from it, crying aloud,
'Then is our pilgrimage at an end! Lead us to him!'
"The monk perceived my terror, and hastily exclaimed. 'Fear not! he is
alive, and seeks Sir William Wallace. His pretended death was a
stratagem to insure our passage through the English army; for we are
soldiers like yourself.' As he spoke, he opened his gray habit, and
showed me the mailed tartans beneath."
"What, then!" interrupted Murray, "these monks were my faithful
clansmen?"
"The same," replied Stephen; "I assured them that they might now resume
their own character; for all who inhabited the valley we were then in
were true, though poor and aged Scots. The young had long been drafted
by Edward's agents, to fight his battles abroad.
"'Ah!' interrupted the shrouded youth, 'are we a people that can die
for the honor of this usurper, and are we ignorant how to do it for our
country? Lead us, soldier of Wallace,' cried he, stepping resolutely
on the ground, 'lead us to your brave master; and tell him that a few
determined men are come to shed their blood for him and Scotland.'
"This astonishing youth (for he did not appear to be more than fifteen)
stood before me in his robes of death, like the spirit of some
bright-haired son of Fingal. I looked on him with admiration; and
explaining our situation, told him whither Wallace was gone, and of our
destination to await him in the forest of Glenfinlass.
"While your brave clansmen were refreshing themselves, we learned from
Kenneth, their conductor, that the troop left Bothwell under
expectation of your soon following them. They had well under
expectation of our soon following them. They had not proceeded far
before their scouts perceived the outposts of the English, which
surrounded Cartlane Craigs; and to avoid this danger, they took a
circuitous path, in hopes of finding some at the western side of the
craigs. Kenneth knew the abbot; and entering it under covert of the
night, obtained permission for his men to rest there. The youth, now
their companion, was a student in the church. He had been sent thither
by his mother, a pious lady, in the hope that, as he is of a very
gentle nature, he would attach himself to the sacred tonsure. But
courage often springs with most strength in the softest frames.
"The moment this youth discovered our errand he tried every persuasion
to prevail on the abbot to permit him to accompany us. But his
entreaties were vain, till wrought up to vehement anger he threatened
that if he were prevented joining Sir William Wallace, he would take
the earliest opportunity to escape, and commit himself to the peril of
the English pikes.
"Seeing him determined the abbot granted his wish; 'and then it was,'
said Kenneth, 'that the youth seemed inspired. It was no longer an
enthusiastic boy we saw before us, but an angel, gifted with wisdom to
direct and enterprise to lead us. It was he proposed disguising
ourselves as a funeral procession; and while he painted his blooming
countenance of a death-like paleness and stretched himself on this
bier, the abbot sent to the English army to request permission for a
party of monks to cross the craigs to the cave of St. Colomba, in
Stirlingshire, whither they carried a dead brother to be entombed. Our
young leader hoped we might thus find an opportunity to apprise Wallace
we were friends, and ready to swell the ranks of his little armament.
"'On our entrance into the passes of the craigs,' continued Kenneth,
'the English captain there mentioned the fate of Bothwell, and the
captivity of Lord Mar; and with very little courtesy to sons of the
church, ordered the bier to be opened, to see whether it did really
contain a corpse, or provisions for our besieged countrymen. We had
certainly expected this investigation; else we might as well have
wrapped the trunk of a tree in the shroud we carried as a human being.
We knew that the superstitious hatred of the Southrons would not allow
them to touch a Scottish corpse, and therefore we feared no detection
from the eye's examination alone. This ceremony once over, we expected
to have passed on without further notice; and in that case the youth
would have left his pall, and performed the remainder of his journey in
a similar disguise with the rest; but the strict watch of an English
guard confined him wholly to the bier. In hopes of at last evading
this vigilance, on pretense of a vow of the deceased that his bearers
should perform a pilgrimage throughout the craigs, we traversed them in
every direction; and, I make no doubt, would have finally wearied out
our guard, and gained our point, had not the circumstance transpired of
Wallace's escape.
"'How he had effected it, his enemies could not guess. Not a man of
the besiegers was missing from his post; and not an avenue appeared by
which they could trace his flight: but gone he was, and with him his
whole train. On this disappointment the Southron captains retired to
Glasgow, to their commander-in-chief, to give as good an account as
they could of so disgraceful a termination of their siege. Dismayed at
this intelligence, our peculiar guard hurried us into Stirlingshire,
and left us at the other side of the mountain. But even then we were
not free to release our charge, for, attracted by our procession, the
country people followed us into the valley. Yet had we not met with
you, it was our design to throw off our disguises in the first place,
and, divided into small bands, have severally sought Sir William
Wallace."
"But where," demanded Murray, who had listened with delighted
astonishment to this recital, "where is this admirable youth? Why, if
Kenneth have learned I am arrived, does he not bring him to receive my
thanks and friendship?"
"It is my fault," returned Stephen, "that Kenneth will not approach you
till your repast is over. I left him to see your followers properly
refreshed. And for the youth, he seems timid of appearing before you.
Even his name I cannot make known to you till he reveals it himself:
none know him here by any other name than that of Edwin. He has,
however, granted to-morrow morning for the interview."
"I must submit to his determination," replied Murray; "but I am at a
loss to guess why so brave a creature should hesitate to meet me. I
can only suppose he dislikes the idea of resigning the troop he has so
well conducted; and if so, I shall think it my duty to yield its
command to him."
"Indeed he richly deserves it," returned Stephen; "for the very soul of
Wallace seemed transfused into his breast, as he cheered us through our
long march from the valley to Glenfinlass; he played with the children,
heartened up the women; and when the men were weary, and lagged by the
way, he sat down on the nearest stones, and sung to us legends of our
ancestors, till every nerve was braced with warlike emulation, and
starting up, we proceeded onward with resolution and even gayety.
"When we arrived at Craignacoheilg, as the women were in great want, I
suddenly recollected that I had an old friend in the neighborhood.
When a boy, I had been the playfellow of Sir John Scott of Loch Doine;
and though I understood him to be now an invalid, I went to him. When
I told my tale, his brother-in-law, Sir Roger Kirkpatrick, took fire at
my relation, and declared his determination to accompany me to
Craignacoheilg; and when he joined our band on the summit of this rock,
he took the children in his arms, and while he held their hands in his,
vehemently addressed their mothers, 'Let not these hands be baptized,**
till they had been washed in the blood of our foe. Mercy belongs not
to the enemy, now doomed to fall beneath their father's swords!'"
**It was a custom with Scottish chiefs when any feud existed between
their families, to leave the right hand of their children untouched by
the holy water in baptism, as a sign that no law, even of Heaven,
should prevent them taking revenge.
"It is, indeed a deadly contest," rejoined Murray; "for evil has been
the example of that foe. How many innocent bosoms have their steel
pierced! How many helpless babes have their merciless hands dashed
against the stones! Oh, ruthless war! even a soldier trembles to
contemplate thy horrors."
"Only till he can avenge them!" cried a stern voice, entering the
apartment. It was Kirkpatrick's, and he proceeded: "When vengeance is
in our grasp, tell me, brave Murray, who will then tremble? Dost thou
not feel retribution in thine own hands? Dost thou not see the
tyrant's blood at thy feet?" As he spoke, he looked down, with a horrid
exultation in his eyes; and, bursting into a more horrible laugh,
struck his hand several times on his heart: "It glads me! I shall see
it--and this arm shall assist to pull him down."
"His power in Scotland may fall," returned Murray; "but Edward will be
too careful of his life to come within reach of our steel."
"That may be," rejoined Kirkpatrick; "but my dagger shall yet drink the
blood of his agents. Cressingham shall feel my foot upon his neck!
Cressingham shall see that hand torn from its wrist, which durst to
violate the unsullied cheek of a true Scotsman. Murray, I cannot live
unrevenged."
As he spoke, he quitted the apartment, and with a countenance of such
tremendous fate, that the young warrior doubted it was human; it spoke
not the noble resolves of patriotism, but the portentous malignity with
which the great adversary of mankind determines the ruin of nations; it
seemed to wither the grass on which he moved; and Murray almost thought
that the clouds darkened as the gloomy knight issued from the porch
into the open air.
Kenneth Mackenzie joyfully entered the hall. Murray received him with
a warm embrace; and, soon after, Stephen Ireland led the wearied
chieftain to a bed of freshly-gathered heath, prepared for him in an
upper chamber.