Dalkeith.
Awed, but not intimidated by the prophecy of the seer, Wallace next day
drew up his army in order for the new battle near a convent of
Cistercian monks on the narrow plain of Dalkeith. The two rivers Eske,
flowing on each side of the little phalanx, formed a temporary barrier
between it and the pressing legions of De Warenne. The earl's troops
seemed countless, while the Southron lords who led them on, being
elated by the representations which the Countess of Strathearn had
given to them of the disunited state of the Scottish army, and the
consequent dismay which had seized their hitherto all-conquering
commander, bore down upon the Scots with an impetuosity which
threatened their universal destruction. Deceived by the blandishing
falsehoods of his bride, De Warenne had entirely changed his former
opinion of his brave opponent, and by her sophistries having brought
his mind to adopt stratagems of intimidation unworthy of his nobleness
(so contagious is baseness, in too fond a contact with the
unprincipled!), he placed himself on an adjoining height, intending
from that commanding post to dispense his orders and behold his victory.
"Soldiers!" cried he, "the rebel's hour is come. The sentence of
Heaven is gone forth against him. Charge resolutely, and he and his
host are yours!"
The sky was obscured; an awful stillness reigned through the air, and
the spirits of the mighty dead seemed leaning from the clouds, to
witness this last struggle of their sons. Fate did indeed hover over
the opposing armies. She descended on the head of Wallace, and
dictated from amidst his waving plumes. She pointed his spear, she
wielded his flaming sword, she charged with him in the dreadful shock
of battle. De Warenne saw his foremost thousands fall. He heard the
shouts of the Scots, the cries of his men, and the plains of Stirling
rose to his remembrance. He hastily ordered the knights around him to
bear his wife from the field; and descending the field to lead forward
himself, was met and almost overwhelmed by his flying troops; horses
without riders, men without shield or sword, but all in dismay, rushed
past him. He called to them, he waved the royal standard, he urged, he
reproached, he rallied, and led them back again. The fight
recommenced. Long and bloody was the conflict. De Warenne fought for
conquest and to recover a lost reputation. Wallace contended for his
country, and to show himself always worthy of her latest blessing
"before he should go hence and be no more seen."
The issue declared for Scotland. But the ground was covered with the
slain, and Wallace chased a wounded foe with troops which dropped as
they pursued. At sight of the melancholy state of his intrepid
soldiers, he tried to check their ardor, but in vain.
"It is for Wallace that we conquer!" cried they; "and we die, or prove
him the only captain in this ungrateful country."
Night compelled them to halt, and while they rested on their arms,
Wallace was satisfied that he had destroyed the power of De Warenne.
As he leaned on his sword, and stood with Edwin near the watch-fire,
over which that youthful hero kept a guard, he contemplated with
generous forbearance the terrified Southrons as they fled precipitately
by the foot of the hill toward the Tweed. Wallace now told his friend
the history of his adventure with the seer of the craigs, and finding
within himself how much the brightness of true religion excludes the
glooms of superstition, he added, "The proof of the Divine Spirit in
prophecy is its completion. Hence let the false seer I met last night
warn you, my Edwin, by my example, how you give credit to any
prediction that might slacken the sinews of duty. God can speak but
one language. He is not a man, that he should repent; neither a
mortal, that he should change his purpose. This prophet of Baal
beguiled me into a credence of his denunciation; but not to adopt the
conduct his offered alternative would have persuaded me to pursue. I
now see that he was a traitor in both, and henceforth shall read my
fate in the oracles of God alone. Obeying them, my Edwin, we need not
fear the curses of our enemy, nor the lying of suborned soothsayers."
The splendor of this victory struck to the souls of the council at
Stirling, but with no touch of remorse. Scotland being again rescued
from the vengeance of her implacable foe, the disaffected lords in the
citadel affected to spurn at her preservation, declaring to the regent
that they would rather bear the yoke of the veriest tyrant in the world
than owe a moment of freedom to the man who (they pretended to believe)
had conspired against their lives. And they had a weighty reason for
this decision: though De Warenne was beaten, his wife was a victor.
She had made Edward triumphant in the venal hearts of her kinsmen; gold
and her persuasions, with promises of future honors from the King of
England, had sealed them entirely his. All but the regent was ready to
commit everything into the hands of Edward. The rising favor of these
other lords with the court of England induced him to recollect that he
might rule as the unrivaled friend of Bruce, should that prince live;
or, in case of his death, he might have it in his own power to assume
the Scottish throne untrammeled. These thoughts made him fluctuate,
and his country found him as undetermined in treason as unstable in
fidelity.
Immediately on the victory at Dalkeith, Kirkpatrick (eager to be the
first communicator of such welcome news to Lennox, who had planted
himself as a watch at Stirling) withdrew secretly from Wallace's camp,
and, hoping to move the gratitude of the refractory lords, entered full
of honest joy into the midst of their council.
He proclaimed the success of his commander. His answer was accusations
and insults. All that had been charged against the too-fortunate
Wallace, was re-urged with added acrimony. Treachery to the state,
hypocrisy in morals, fanaticism in religion--no stigma was too
extravagant, too contradictory, to be affixed to his name. They who
had been hurt in the fray in the hall, pointed to their still smarting
wounds, and called upon Lennox to say if they did not plead against so
dangerous a man?
"Dangerous to your crimes, and ruinous to your ambition!" cried
Kirkpatrick; "for so help me God, I believe that an honester man than
William Wallace lives not in Scotland! And that ye know, and his
virtues overtopping your littleness, ye would uproot the greatness
which ye cannot equal."
This speech, which a burst of indignation had wrested from him, brought
down the wrath of the whole party upon himself. Lord Athol, yet stung
with his old wound, furiously struck him; Kirkpatrick drew his sword,
and the two chiefs commenced a furious combat, each determined on the
extirpation of the other. Gasping with almost the last breathings of
life, neither could be torn from their desperate revenge, till many
were hurt in attempting to separate them; and then the two were carried
off insensible, and covered with wounds.
When this sad news was transmitted to Sir William Wallace, it found him
on the banks of the Eske, just returned from the citadel of Berwick,
where, once more master of that fortress, he had dictated the terms of
a conqueror and a patriot.
In the scene of his former victories, the romantic shades of
Hawthorndean, he now pitched his triumphant camp; and from its verdant
bounds dispatched the requisite orders to the garrisoned castles on the
borders. While employed in this duty, his heart was wrung by an
account of the newly-aroused storm in the citadel of Stirling; but as
some equivalent, the chieftains of Mid-Lothian poured in on him on
every side; and, acknowledging him their protector, he again found
himself the idol of gratitude, and the almost deified object of trust.
At such a moment, when the one voice they were disclaiming all
participation in the insurgent proceedings at Stirling, another
messenger arrived from Lord Lennox, to conjure him, if he would avoid
open violence or secret treachery, to march his victorious troops
immediately to that city, and seize the assembled abthanes** at once as
traitors to their country. "Resume the regency," added he; "which you
only know how to conduct; and crush a treason which, increasing hourly,
now walks openly in the day, threatening all that is virtuous, or
faithful to you."
**Abthanes, which means the great lords, was a title of pre-eminence
given to the higher order of chiefs.
He did not hesitate to decide against this counsel, for, in following
it, it could not be one adversary he must strike, but thousands. "I am
only a brother to my countrymen," said he to himself, "and have no
right to force them to their duty. When their king appears, then these
rebellious heads may be made to bow." While he mused upon the letter
of Lennox, Ruthven entered the recess of the tent, whither he had
retired to read it.
"I bring you better news of our friends at Huntingtower," cried the
good lord. "Here is a packet from Douglas, and another from my wife."
Wallace gladly read them, and found that Bruce was relieved from his
delirium; but so weak, that his friends dared not hazard a relapse by
imparting to him any idea of the proceedings at Stirling. All he knew
was, that Wallace was victorious in arms, and panting for his recovery
to render such success really beneficial to his country! Helen and
Isabella, with the sage of Ercildown, were the prince's unwearied
attendants; and though his life was yet in extreme peril, it was to be
hoped that their attentions, and his own constitution, would finally
cure the wound, and conquer its attendant fever. Comforted with these
tidings, Wallace declared his intentions of visiting his suffering
friend as soon as he could establish any principle in the minds of his
followers to induce them to bear, even for a little time, with the
insolence of the abthanes. "I will then," said he, "watch by the side
of our beloved Bruce till his recovered health allows him to proclaim
himself king; and with that act I trust all these feuds will be forever
laid to sleep!" Ruthven participated in these hopes, and the friends
returned into the council-tent. But all there was changed. Most of
the Lothian chieftains had also received messages from their friends in
Stirling. Allegations against Wallace; arguments to prove "the policy
of submitting themselves and their properties to the protection of a
great and generous king, though a foreigner, rather than to risk all by
attaching themselves to the fortunes of a private person, who made
their services the ladder of his ambition," were the contents of their
packets; and they had been sufficient to shake the easy faith to which
they were addressed. On the reentrance of Wallace, the chieftains,
stole suspicious glances at each other, and, without a word, glided
severally out of the tent.