Chateau Galliard.
When Baliol arrived within a few miles of Chateau Galliard, he pointed
to a wooded part of the forest, and told the friends, that under its
groves they had best shelter themselves till the sun set; soon after
which he should expect them at the castle.
Long indeed seemed the interval. It usually happens that in
contemplating a project, while the period of its execution appears
distant, we think on it with composure; but when the time of action is
near, when we only wait the approach of an auxiliary, or the lapse of
an hour, every passing moment seems an age, and the impatient soul is
ready to break every bound, to grasp the completion of its enterprise.
So Wallace now felt--felt as he had never done before; for in all his
warlike exploits each achievement had immediately followed the moment
of resolve; but here he was delayed, to grow in ardor as he
contemplated an essay in which every generous principle of man was
summoned into action. He was going to rescue a helpless woman from the
hands of a man of violence; she was also the daughter of his first ally
in the great struggle for Scotland, and who had fallen in the cause.
Glad was he then to see the sun sink behind the distant hills. At that
moment he and his friend closed their visors, mounted their horses, and
set off at full speed toward the chateau.
When they came in view of the antique towers of Galliard, they
slackened their pace, and leisurely advanced to the gates. The bugle
of Wallace demanded admittance; a courteous assent was brought by the
warder; the gates unfolded, the friends entered; and in the next
instant they were conducted into a room where Baliol sat. De Valence
was walking to and fro in a great chafe; he started at sight of the
princely armor of Wallace (for he, as Baliol had done, now conceived,
from the lilied diadem, that the stranger must be of the royal house of
France); and composing his turbulent spirit, he bowed respectfully to
the supposed prince. Wallace returned the salutation, and Baliol
rising, accosted him with a dignified welcome. He saw the mistake of
De Valence, and perceived how greatly it might facilitate the execution
of their project.
On his host's return to the chateau, De Valence had received him with
more than his former insolence, for the Governor of Rouen had sent him
information of the despised monarch's discontent; and when the despotic
lord hear a bugle at the gate, and learned that it was answered by the
admission of two traveling knights, he flew to Baliol in displeasure,
commanding him to recall his granted leave. At the moment of his
wrath, Wallace entered, and covered him with confusion. Struck at
seeing a French prince in one of the persons he was going to treat with
such indignity, he shrunk into himself, and bowed before him with all
the cowering meanness of a base and haughty soul. Wallace, feeling his
real pre-eminence, bent his head in acknowledgment, with a majesty
which convinced the earl that he was not mistaken. Baliol welcomed his
guest in a manner not to dispel the illusion.
"Happy am I," cried he, "that the hospitality which John Baliol
intended to show to a mere traveler, confers on him the distinction of
serving one of a race whose favor confers protection, and its
friendship honor."
Wallace returned a gracious reply to this speech; and turning to Bruce,
said:
"This knight is my friend; and though from peculiar circumstances
neither of us chooses to disclose his name during our journey, yet,
whatever they may be, I trust you will confide in the word of one whom
you have honored by the address you have now made, and believe that his
friend is not unworthy the hospitalities of him who was once King of
Scots."
De Valence now approached, and announcing who he was, assured the
knights in the name of the King of England, whom he was going to
represent in Guienne, of every respect from himself, assistance from
his retinue, to bring them properly on their way.
"I return you the thanks due to your courtesy," replied Wallace; "and
shall certainly remain to-night a burden on King Baliol; but in the
morning we must depart as we came, having a vow to perform, which
excludes the service of attendants."
A splendid supper was served, at the board of which De Valence sat, as
well as Baliol. From the moment that the strangers entered, the
English earl never withdrew; so cautious was he to prevent Baliol
informing his illustrious guests of the captivity of Lady Helen Mar.
Wallace ate nothing; he sat with his visor still closed, and almost in
profound silence, never speaking but when spoken to, and then only
answering in as few words as possible. De Valence supposed that this
taciturnity was connected with his vow, and did not further remark it;
but Bruce (who at Caen had furnished himself with a complete suit of
black armor) appeared, though equally invisible under his visor,
infinitely more accessible. The humbler fashion of his martial
accouterment did not announce the prince; but his carriage was so
noble, his conversation bespoke so accomplished a mind, and brave a
spirit, that De Valence did not doubt that both men before him were of
the royal family. He had never seen Charles de Valois; and believing
that he now saw him in Wallace, he directed all that discourse to
Bruce, which he meant should reach the ear of De Valois, and from him
pass to that of the King of France. Bruce guessed what was passing in
his mind; and, with as much amusement as design, led forward the earl's
mistake--but rather by allowing him to deceive himself, than by any
actual means on his side to increase the deception. De Valence threw
out hints respecting a frontier town in Guienne, which, he said, he
thought his royal master could be persuaded to yield to the French
monarch, as naturally belonging to Gascony. But then the affair must
be properly represented, he added; and had he motive enough to
investigate some parchments in his possession, he believed he could
place the affair in a true light, and convince Edward of the superior
claims of the French king. Then casting out hints of the claim he had,
by right of his ancestors, to the seigniory of Valence in Dauphiny, he
gave them to understand, that if Philip would invest him with the
revenues of Valence on the Rhone, he would engage that the other town
in question should be delivered to France.
Notwithstanding Baliol's resolution to keep awake and assist his
friends in their enterprise, he was so overcome by fatigue that he fell
asleep soon after supper, and so gave De Valence full opportunity to
unveil his widely-grasping mind to the Scottish chiefs. Wallace now
saw that the execution of his project must depend wholly upon himself;
and how to inform Helen that he was in the castle, and of his plan to
get her out of it, hardly occupied him more than what to devise to
detain De Valence in the banqueting-room, while he went forth to
prosecute his design. As these thoughts absorbed him, by an
unconscious movement he turned toward the English earl. De Valence
paused, and looked at him, supposing he was going to speak; but finding
him still silent, the earl addressed him, though with some hesitation,
feeling an inexplicable awe of directly saying to him what he had so
easily uttered to his more approachable companion.
"I seek not, illustrious stranger," said he, "to inquire the name you
have already intimated must be concealed; but I have sufficient faith
in that brilliant circlet around your brows, to be convinced (as none
other than the royal hand of Philip could bestow it) that it
distinguishes a man of the first honor. You now know my sentiments,
prince; and for the advantage of both kings, I confide them to your
services."
Wallace rose.
"Whether I am prince or vassal," replied he, "my services shall ever be
given in the cause of justice; and of that, Earl de Valence, you will
be convinced when next you hear of me. My friend," cried he, turning
to Bruce, "you will remain with our host; I go to perform the vigils of
my vow."
Bruce understood him. It was not merely with their host he was to
remain, but to detain De Valence, and, opening at once the versatile
powers of his abundant mind, his vivacity charmed the earl, while the
magnificence of his views in policy corroborated to De Valence the idea
that he was conversing with one whose birth had placed him beyond even
the temptations of those ambitions which were at that moment subjecting
his auditor's soul to every species of flattery, meanness, and, in
fact, disloyalty. Bruce, in his turn, listened with much apparent
interest to all De Valence's dreams of aggrandizement, and recollecting
his reputation for a love of wine, he replenished the earl's goblet so
often, that the fumes made him forget all reserve; and after pouring
forth the whole history of his attachments to Helen, and his resolution
to subdue her abhorrence by love and grandeur, he gradually lowered his
key, and at last fell fast asleep.
Meanwhile Wallace wrapped himself in Baliol's blue cloak, which lay in
the anteroom, and enveloping even his helmet in the friendly mantle, he
moved swiftly along the gallery toward the chamber of Helen. To be
prepared for obstacles, he had obtained from Baliol a particular
description of the situation of every apartment leading to it. It was
now within an hour of midnight. He passed through several large vacant
rooms, and at last arrived at the important door. It opened into a
small chamber, in which two female attendants lay asleep. He gently
raised the latch, and, with caution taking the lamp which burned on the
table, glided softly through the curtains which filled the cedar arch
that led into the apartment of Helen. He approached the bed, covering
the light with his hand, while he observed her. She was in a profound
sleep, but pale as the sheet which enveloped her--her countenance
seemed troubled, her brows frequently knit themselves, and she started
as she dreamed, as if in apprehension. Once he heard her lips faintly
murmur, "Save me, my father! on you alone--" There she stopped. His
heart bled at this appeal. "Thy father's friend comes to save thee,"
he would have cried, but he checked the exclamation--his hand dropped
at the same instant from before the lamp, and the blaze striking full
on her eyes, waked her. She looked up, and she believed her dream
realized--De Valence leaning over the bed, and herself wholly in his
power! A shriek of horror as bursting from her lips, when Wallace
hastily raised his visor. At the moment when despair was in her orphan
heart, and her whole soul turned with abhorrence from the supposed De
Valence, she met the eyes of the dearest to her on earth--those of
indeed her father's friend! Stretching forth her arms, for an instant
she seemed flying to the protection of him to whose honor she had been
bequeathed; but falling back again on her bed, the glad surprise of
seeing him, who in her estimation was her only earthly security now
that her father was no more, shook her with such emotion, that Wallace
feared to see her delicate frame sink into some deadly swoon.
Alarmed for her life, or the accomplishment of her deliverance, he
threw himself on his knees beside her, and softly whispered, "Be
composed, for the love of Heaven and your own safety. Be collected and
firm, and you shall fly this place with me to-night."
Hardly conscious of the action, Helen grasped the hand that held hers,
and would have replied; but her voice failing, she fainted on his arm.
Wallace now saw no alternative but to remove her hence, even in this
insensible state; and, raising her gently in his arms, enveloped in the
silk coverlet, with cautious steps he bore her through the curtained
entrance, and passed the sleeping damsels into the anterooms. To meet
any of De Valence's men while in this situation would betray ll. To
avoid this, he hastened through the illuminated passages, and turning
into the apartment appointed for himself, laid the now reviving Helen
upon a couch. "Water," said she, "and I shall soon be myself again."
He gave her some, and at the same time laying a page's suit of clothes
(which Baliol had provided) beside her, "Dress yourself in these, Lady
Helen," said he; "I shall withdraw meanwhile into the passage, but your
safety depends on expedition."
Before she could answer he had disappeared. Helen instantly threw
herself on her knees to thank a higher power for this commencement of
her deliverance, and to beseech His blessing on its consummation. She
rose strengthened, and, obeying Wallace, the moment she was equipped,
she laid her hand upon the latch, but the watchful ear of her friend
heard her, and he immediately opened the door. The lamps of the
gallery shone full upon the light grace of her figure, as shrinking
with blushing modesty, and yet eager to be with her preserver, she
stood hesitating before him. He threw his cloak over her, and putting
her arm through his, in the unobscured blaze of his princely armor, he
descended to the lower hall of the castle. One man only was there.
Wallace ordered him to open the great door. "It is a fine night," said
he, "and I shall ride some miles before I sleep." The man asked if he
were to saddle the horses; he was answered in the affirmative, and the
gate being immediately unbarred, Wallace led his precious charge into
the freedom of the open air. As soon as she saw the outside of those
towers, which she had entered as the worst of all prisoners, her heart
so overflowed with gratitude to her deliverer, that sinking by his side
upon her knees, she could only grasp his hand, and bathe it with the
pure tears of rescued innocence. Her manner penetrated his soul, and
he raised her in his arms; but she, dreading that she had perhaps done
too much, convulsively articulated, "My father--his blessing--"
"Was a rich endowment, Lady Helen," returned Wallace, "and you shall
ever find me deserving of it." Her head leaned on his breast. But how
different was the lambent flame which seemed to emanate from either
heart, as they now beat against each other, from the destructive fire
which shot from the burning veins of Lady mar, when she would have
polluted with her unchaste lips this shrine of a beloved wife, this
bosom consecrated to her sacred image! Wallace had shrunk from her, as
from the touch of some hideous contagion, but with Lady Helen it was
soul meeting soul, it was innocence resting on the bosom of virtue. No
thought that saints would not have approved was there, no emotion which
angels might not have shared, glowed in their grateful bosoms--she,
grateful to him; both grateful to God.
The man brought the horses from the stable. He knew that two strangers
had arrived at the castle, and not noticing Helen's stature, supposed
they were both before him. He had been informed by the servants, that
the taller of the two was the Count de Valois, and he now held the
stirrup for him to mount; But Wallace placed Helen on Bruce's horse,
and then vaulting on his own, put a piece of gold into the attendant's
hand.
"You will return, noble prince?" inquired the man.
"Why should you doubt it?" answered Wallace.
"Because," replied the servant, "I wish the brother of the King of
France to know the foul deeds which are doing in his dominions."
"By whom?" asked Wallace, surprised at this address.
"By the Earl de Valence, prince," answered he; "he has now in this
castle a beautiful lady, whom he brought from a foreign land, and
treats in a manner unbecoming a knight or a man."
"And what would you have me do?" said Wallace, willing to judge whether
this applicant were honest in his appeal.
"Come in the power of your royal brother," answered he, "and demand the
Lady Helen Mar of Lord de Valence."
Helen, who had listened with trepidation to this dialogue, drew nearer
Wallace, and whispered in an agitated voice, "Ah! let us hasten away."
The man was close enough to hear her.
"Hah!" cried he, in a burst of doubtful joy; "is it so? Is she here?
say so, noble knight, and Joppa Grimsby will serve ye both forever!"
"Grimsby!" cried Helen, recollecting his voice the moment he had
declared his name; "what! the honest English soldier? I and my
preserver will indeed value so trusty a follower."
The name of Grimsby was too familiar to the memory of Wallace, too
closely associated with his most cherished meditations, for him not to
recognize it with melancholy pleasure. He had never seen Grimsby, but
he knew him well worthy of his confidence; and ordered him (if he
really desired to follow Lady Helen) to bring two more horses from the
stables. When they were brought, Wallace made the joyful signal
concerted with Bruce and Baliol, to sound the Scottish pryse as soon as
he and his fair charge were out of the castle.
The happy tidings met the ear of the prince while anxiously watching
the sleeping of De Valence, for fear he should awake and, leaving the
room, interrupt Wallace in his enterprise. What, then, was his
transport when the first note of the horn burst upon the silence around
him! He sprung on his feet. The impetuosity of the action roused
Baliol, who had been lying all the while sound asleep in his chair.
Bruce made a sign to him to be silent, and pressing his hand with
energy, forgot the former Baliol in the present, and, for a moment
bending his knee, kissed the hand he held; then, rising, disappeared in
an instant.
He flew through the open gates. Wallace perceiving him, rode out from
under the shadow of the trees. The bright light of the moon shone on
his sparkling crest; that was sufficient for Bruce, and Wallace,
falling back again into the shade, was joined the next moment by his
friend. Who this friend was for whom her deliverer had told Helen he
waited, she did not ask; for she dreaded, while so near danger, to
breathe a word; but she guessed that it must either be Murray or Edwin.
De Valence had barbarously told her that not only her father was no
more, but that her uncles, the Lords Bothwell and Ruthven, had both
been killed in the last battle. Hence, with a saddened joy, one of her
two bereaved cousins she now prepared to see; and every filial
recollection pressing on her heart her tears flowed silently and in
abundance. As Bruce approached, his black mantle so wrapped him she
could not distinguish his figure. Wallace stretched forth his hand to
him in silence; he grasped it with the warm but mute congratulation of
friendship, and throwing himself on his horse, triumphantly exclaimed,
"Now for Paris!" Helen recognized none she knew in that voice; and
drawing close to the white courser of Wallace, with something like
disappointment mingling with her happier thoughts, she made her horse
keep pace with the fleetness of her companions.