Cambus-Kenneth.
Having secured the advantages he had gained in the town and on the
works of the castle, by manning all the strong places, Wallace set
forward with his chosen troops to intercept De Warenne.
He took his position on a commanding ground about half a mile from
Stirling, near to the Abbey of Cambus-Kenneth. The Forth lay before
him, crossed by a wooden bridge, over which the enemy must pass to
reach him, the river not being fordable in that part.
He ordered the timbers which supported the bridge to be sawed at the
bottom, but not displaced in the least, that they might stand perfectly
firm for as long as he should deem it necessary. To these timbers were
fastened strong cords, all of which he intrusted to the sturdiest of
his Lanark men, who were to lie concealed amongst the flags. These
preparations being made, he drew up his troops in order of battle.
Kirkpatrick and Murray commanded the flanks. In the center stood
Wallace himself, with Ramsay on one side of him, and Edwin, with
Scrymgeour on the other, awaiting with steady expectation the approach
of the enemy, who, by this time, could not be far distant.
Cressingham was not less well-informed of the advance of De Warenne;
and burning with revenge against Wallace, and earnest to redeem the
favor of De Valence by some act in his behalf, he first gave secret
orders to his lieutenant, then set forth alone to seek an avenue of
escape, never divulged to any but to the commanders of the fortress.
He soon discovered it; and by the light of a torch, making his way
through a passage bored in the rock, emerged at its western base,
screened from sight by the surrounding bushes. He had disguised
himself in a shepherd's bonnet and plaid, in case of being observed by
the enemy; but fortune, favored him, and unseen he crept along through
the thickets, till he descried the advance of De Warenne's army on the
skirts of Tor Wood.
Having missed Wallace in West Lothian, De Warenne divided his army into
three divisions, to enter Stirlingshire by different routes; and so he
hoped, certainly, to intercept him in one of them. The Earl of
Montgomery led the first, of twenty thousand men; the Barons Hilton and
Blenkinsopp, the second, of ten thousand; and De Warenne himself the
third, of thirty thousand.
It was the first of these divisions that Cressingham encountered in Tor
Wood; and revealing himself to Montgomery, he recounted how rapidly
Wallace had gained the town, and in what jeopardy the citadel would be,
if he were not instantly attacked. The earl advised waiting for a
junction with Hilton or the lord warden, "which," said he, "must happen
in the course of a few hours."
"In the course of a few hours," returned Cressingham, "you will have no
Stirling Castle to defend. The enemy will seize it at sunset, in
pursuance of the very agreement by which I warded him off, to give us
time to annihilate him before that hour. Therefore no hesitation, if
we would not see him lock the gates of the north of Scotland upon us,
even when we have the power to hurl him to perdition."
By arguments such as these the young earl was induced to give up his
judgment; and, accompanied by Cressingham, whose courage revived amid
such a host, he proceeded to the southern bank of the Forth.
The bands of Wallace were drawn up on the opposite shore, hardly five
thousand strong, but so disposed the enemy could not calculate their
numbers, though the narrowness of their front suggested to Cressingham
that they could not be numerous; and he recollected that many must have
been left to occupy the outworks of the town and the citadel. "It will
be easy to surround the rebel," cried he; "and that we may effect our
enterprise before the arrival of the warden robs us of the honor, let
us about it directly, and cross the bridge."
Montgomery proposed a herald being sent to inform Wallace that, besides
the long line of troops he saw, De Warenne was advancing with double
hosts, and if he would now surrender, a pardon should be granted to him
and his, in the king's name, for all their late rebellions.
Cressingham was vehement against this measure, but Montgomery being
resolute, the messenger was dispatched.
In a few minutes he returned, and repeated to the Southron commanders
the words of Wallace: "Go," said he, "tell your masters we came not
here to treat for a pardon of what we shall never allow to be an
offense; we came to assert our rights--to set Scotland free. Till that
is effected, all negotiation is vain. Let them advance; they will find
us prepared."
"Then onward!" cried Montgomery; and, spurring his steed, he led the
way to the bridge; his eager soldiers followed, and the whole of his
center ranks passed over. The flanks advanced, and the bridge, from
end to end, was filled with archers, cavalry, men-at-arms, and
war-carriages. Cressingham, in the midst, was hallooing in proud
triumph to those who occupied the rear of the straining beams, when the
blast of a trumpet sounded from the till now silent and immovable
Scottish phalanx. It was re-echoed by shouts from behind the passing
enemy, and in that moment the supporting piers of the bridge** were
pulled away, and the whole of its mailed throng was precipitated into
the stream.
**This historical fact relating to the bridge is yet exultantly
repeated on the spot, and the number of the Southrons who fell beneath
the arms of so small a band of Scots, is not less the theme of
triumph.-(1809.)
The cries of the maimed and the drowning were joined by the terrific
slogan of two bands of Scots. The one with Wallace toward the head of
the river, while the other, under the command of Sir John Graham,
rushed from its ambuscade on the opposite bank upon the rear of the
dismayed troops; and both divisions sweeping all before them, drove
those who fought on land into the river, and those who had just escaped
the flood, to meet its waves again, a bleeding host.
In the midst of this conflict, which rather seemed a carnage than a
battle, Kirkpatrick, having heard the proud shouts of Cressingham on
the bridge, now sought him amidst its shattered timbers. With the
ferocity of a tiger hunting its prey, he ran from man to man, and as
the struggling wretches emerged from the water, he plucked them from
the surge; but even while his glaring eye-balls and uplifted ax
threatened destruction, he only looked on them; and with imprecations
of disapointment, rushed forward on his chase. Almost in despair that
the waves had cheated his revenge, he was hurrying on in another
direction, when he perceived a body moving through a hollow on his
right. He turned, and saw the object of his search crawling amongst
the mud and sedges.
"Ha!" cried Kirkpatrick, with a triumphant yell, "art thou yet mine?
Damned, damned villain!" cried he, springing upon his breast: "Behold
the man you dishonored!-behold the hot cheek your dastard hand defiled!
Thy blood shall obliterate the stain; and then Kirkpatrick may again
front the proudest in Scotland!"
"For mercy!" cried the horror-struck Cressingham, struggling with
preternatural strength to extricate himself.
"Hell would be my portion did I grant any to thee," cried Kirkpatrick;
and with one stroke of the ax he severed the head from its body. "I am
a man again!" shouted he, as he held its bleeding veins in his hand,
and placed it on the point of his sword. "Thou ruthless priest of
Moloch and of Mammon, thou shalt have thine own blood to drink, while I
show my general how proudly I am avenged!" As he spoke, he dashed
amongst the victorious ranks, and reached Wallace at the very moment he
was freeing himself from his fallen horse, which a random arrow had
shot under him. Murray, at the same instant, was bringing up the
wounded Montgomery, who came to surrender his sword, and to beg quarter
for his men. The earl turned deadly pale; for the first object that
struck his sight was the fierce knight of Torthorald, walking under the
stream of blood which continued to flow from the ghastly head of
Cressingham, as he held it exultingly in the air.
"If that be your chief," cried Montgomery, "I have mistaken him much--I
cannot yield my sword to him."
Murray understood him: "If cruelty be an evil spirit," returned he, "it
has fled every breast in this army to shelter with Sir Roger
Kirkpatrick; and its name is Legion! That is my chief!" added he,
pointing to Wallace, with an evident consciousness of deriving honor
from his command. The chief rose from the ground dyed in the same
ensanguined hue which had excited the abhorrence of Montgomery, though
it had been drawn from his own veins, and those of his horse. All,
indeed, of blood about him seemed to be on his garment; none was in his
eyes, none in his heart but what warmed it to mercy and to benevolence
for all mankind. His eyes momentarily fell on the approaching figure
of Kirkpatrick, who, waving the head in the air, blew from his bugle
the triumphal notes of the Pryse, and then cried to his chief: "I have
slain the wolf of Scotland! My brave clansmen are now casing my target
with his skin,** which, when I strike its bossy sides, will cry aloud.
So, perishes thy dishonor! So perish all the enemies of Scotland!"
**It is recorded that the memory of Cressingham was so odious to the
Scots, they did indeed flay his dead body, and made saddles and girths
and other things of his skin.-(1809.)
"And with the extinction of that breath, Kirkpatrick," cried Wallace,
looking serenely from the head to him, "let your fell revenge perish
also. For your own honor commit no indignities on the body you have
slain."
"'Tis for you to conquer like a god!" cried Kirkpatrick; "I have felt
as a man, and like a man I revenge. This head shall destroy in death;
it shall vanquish its friends for me; for I will wear it like a Gorgon
on my sword, to turn to stone every Southron who looks on it." While
speaking, he disappeared amongst the thickening ranks; and as the
victorious Scots hailed him in passing, Montgomery, thinking of his
perishing men, suffered Murray to lead him to the scene of his humility.
The ever-comprehensive eye of Wallace perceived him as he advanced; and
guessing by his armor and dignified demeanor who he was, with a noble
grace he raised his helmed bonnet from his head when the earl
approached him. Montgomery looked on him; he felt his soul, even more
than his arms, subdued; but still there was something about a soldier's
heart that shrunk from yielding his power of resistance. The blood
mounted into his before pale cheeks; he held out his sword in silence
to the victor; for he could not bring his tongue to pronounce the word
"surrender."
Wallace understood the sign, and holding up his hand to a herald, the
trumpet of peace was raised. It sounded--and where, the moment before,
were the horrid clashing of arms, the yell of savage conquest, and
direful cries for mercy, all was hushed as death. Not that death which
had passed, but that which is approaching.--None spoke, not a sound was
heard, but the low groans of the dying, who lay, overwhelmed and
perishing, beneath the bodies of the slain, and the feet of the living.
The voice of Wallace rose from this awful pause. Its sound was ever
the harbinger of glory, or of "good will to men." "Soldiers!" cried
he, "God has given victory--let us show our gratitude by moderation and
mercy. Gather the wounded into quarters and bury the dead."
Wallace then turned to the extended sword of the earl; he put it gently
back with his hand: "Ever wear what you honor," said he; "but, gallant
Montgomery, when you draw it next, let it be in a better cause. Learn,
brave earl, to discriminate between a warrior's glory and his shame;
between the defender of his country, and the unprovoked ravager of
other lands."
Montgomery blushed scarlet at these words; but it was not with
resentment. He looked down for a moment: "Ah!" thought he, "perhaps I
ought never to have drawn it here!" Then raising his eyes to Wallace,
he said: "Were you not the enemy of my king, who, though a conqueror,
sanctions none of the cruelties that have been committed in his name, I
would give you my hand, before the remnant of his brave troops, whose
lives you grant. But you have my heart: a heart that knows no
difference between friend or foe, when the bonds of virtue would unite
what only civil dissensions hold separate."
"Had your king possessed the virtues you believe he does," replied
Wallace, "my sword might have now been a pruning-hook. But that is
past! We are in arms for injuries received, and to drive out a tyrant.
For believe me, noble Montgomery, that monarch has little pretensions
to virtue, who suffers the oppressors of his people, or of his
conquests, to go unpunished. To connive at cruelty, is to practice it.
And has Edward ever frowned on one of those despots, who, in his name,
have for these two years past laid Scotland in blood and ashes?"
The appeal was too strong for Montgomery to answer; he felt its truth,
and bowed, with an expression in his face that told more than, as a
subject of England, he dared declare.
The late respectful silence was turned into the clamorous activity of
eager obedience. The prisoners were conducted to the rear of Stirling;
while the major part of the Scots (leaving a detachment to unburden the
earth of its bleeding load), returned in front to the gates, just as De
Warenne's division appeared on the horizon, like a moving cloud gilded
by the now setting sun. At this sight Wallace sent Edwin into the town
with Lord Montgomery, and marshaling his line, prepared to bear down
upon the approaching earl.
But the lord warden had received information which fought better for
the Scots than a host of swords. When advanced a very little onward on
the Carse of Stirling, one of his scouts brought intelligence that
having approached the south side of the Forth, he had seen that river
floating with dead bodies; and soon after met Southron horns blowing
the notes of victory. From what he learned from the fugitives, he also
informed his lord, "that not only the town and citadel of Stirling were
in the possession of Sir William Wallace, but the two detachments under
Montgomery and Hilton had both been discomfited, and their leaders
slain or taken."
At this intelligence, Earl de Warenne stood aghast; and while he was
still doubting that such disgrace to King Edward's arms could be
possible, two or three fugitives came up, and witnessed to its truth.
One had seen Kirkpatrick, with the bloody head of the Governor of
Stirling on his sword. Another had been near Cressingham in the wood,
when he told Montgomery of the capture of De Valence; and concluding
that he meant the leader of the third division, he corroborated the
scout's information of the two defeats, adding (for terror magnified
the objects of fear), that the Scots army was incalculable; but was so
disposed by Sir William Wallace, as to appear inconsiderable, that he
might ensnare his enemies, by filling them with hopes of an easy
conquest.
These accounts persuaded De Warenne to make a retreat; and intimidated
by the exaggerated representations of those who had fled, his men, with
no little precipitation, turned to obey.
Wallace perceived the retrograde motion of his enemy's lines; and while
a stream of arrows from his archers poured upon them like hail, he bore
down upon the rear-guard with his cavalry and men-at-arms, and sent
Graham round by the wood, to surprise the flanks.
All was executed with promptitude; and the tremendous slogan sounding
from side to side, the terrified Southrons, before in confusion, now
threw away their arms, to lighten themselves for escape. Sensible that
it was not the number of the dead, but the terror of the living, which
gives the finishing stroke to conquest, De Warenne saw the effects of
this panic, in the total disregard of his orders; and dreadful would
have been the carnage of his troops had he not sounded a parley.
The bugle of Wallace instantly answered it. De Warenne sent forward
his herald. He offered to lay down his arms, provided he might be
exempted from relinquishing the royal standard, and that he and his men
might be permitted to return without delay to England.
Wallace accepted the first article; granted the second; but with regard
to the third, it must be on condition that he, the Lord de Warenne, and
the officers taken in his army, or in other engagements lately fought
in Scotland, should be immediately exchanged for the like number of
noble Scots Wallace should name, who were prisoners in England; and
that the common men of the army, now about to surrender their arms,
should take an oath never to serve again against Scotland.
These preliminaries being agreed to (their very boldness arguing the
conscious advantage which seemed to compel the assent), the lord warden
advanced at the head of his thirty thousand troops; and first laying
down his sword, which Wallace immediately returned to him, the officers
and soldiers marched by with their heads uncovered, throwing down their
weapons as they approached their conqueror. Wallace extended his line
while the procession moved, for he had too much policy to show his
enemies that thirty thousand men had yielded, almost without a blow, to
scarce five thousand. The oath was afterward administered to each
regiment by heralds, sent for that purpose into the strath of Monteith,
whither Wallace had directed the captured legions to assemble and
refresh themselves, previous to their departure next morning for
England. The privates thus disposed of, to release himself from the
commanders also, Wallace told De Warenne that duty called him away, but
every respect would be paid to them by the Scottish officers.
He then gave directions to Sir Alexander Ramsay to escort De Warenne
and the rest of the noble prisoners to Stirling. Wallace himself
turned with his veteran band to give a conqueror's greeting to the
Baron of Hilton, and so ended the famous battles of Cambus-Kenneth and
the Carse of Stirling.