Highgate.
The tidings of the dreadful vengeance which Edward had taken against
the Scottish nation, by pouring all his wrath upon the head of Wallace,
struck like the lightning of heaven through the souls of men. None of
either country, but those in the confidence of Gloucester, knew that
Heaven had snatched him from the dishonor of so vile a death. The
English turned, blushing, from each other, and ventured not to breathe
the name of a man whose virtues seemed to have found a sanctuary for
his fame in every honest heart. But when the news reached Scotland,
the indignation was general. All envyings, all strifes were forgotten,
in unqualified resentment of the deed. There was not a man, even
amongst the late refractory chiefs, excepting the Cummins, and their
coadjutors Soulis and Monteith, who really had believed that Edward
seriously meant to sentence the Scottish patriot to a severer fate than
what he had pronounced against his rebellious vassal, the exiled
Baliol. The execution of Wallace, whose offense could only be that of
having served his country too faithfully, was therefore so unexpected,
that on the first promulgation of it, so great an abhorrence of the
perpetrator was excited in every breast, that the whole country rose as
one man, threatening to march instantly to London, and sacrifice the
tyrant on his throne.
At this crisis, when the mountains of the north seemed heaving from
their base, to overwhelm the blood-stained fields of England, every
heart which secretly rejoiced in the late sanguinary event quailed
within its possessor, as it tremblingly anticipated the consequences of
the fall of Wallace. At this instant, when the furies armed every clan
in Scotland, breathing forth revenge like a consuming fire before them,
John Cummin, the regent, stood aghast. He foresaw his own downfall, in
this reawakened enthusiasm respecting the man whom his treachery had
been the first means of betraying to his enemies. Baffled in the aim
of his ambition by the very means he had taken to effect it, Cummin saw
no alternative, but to throw himself at once upon the bounty of
England; and, to this purpose, he bethought him of the only chance of
preserving the power of past events, that this tempest of the
soul--excited by remorse in some, and gratitude in others--could only
be maintained to any conclusive injury to England, by a royal hand, and
that that hand was expected to be Bruce's, he determined at once, that
the prince to whom he had sworn fealty, and to whom he owed his present
elevation, should follow the fate of his friend. By the spies which he
constantly kept round Huntingtower, he was apprised that Bruce had set
off toward London in a vessel from Dundee. On these grounds, he sent a
dispatch to King Edward, informing him that destiny had established him
supreme lord of Scotland; for not its second and its last hope had put
himself into his hands. With this intelligence, he gave a particular
account of all Bruce's proceedings, from the time of his meeting
Wallace in France, to his present following the chief to London. He
then craved his majesty's pardon for having been betrayed into a union
with such conspirators; and repeating his hope that the restitution he
now made, in thus showing the royal hand where to find its last
opponent, would give full conviction of his penitence and duty. He
closed his letter by urging the king to take instant and effectual
measures to disable Bruce from disturbing the quiet of Scotland, or
ever again disputing his regal claims!
Gloucester happened to be in the presence when this epistle was
delivered in and read by his majesty. On the suit of his daughter,
Edwin had been reconciled to his son-in-law; but when he showed him the
contents of Cummin's letter, with a suspicious smile he said in a loud
voice, "In case you should know this new rebel's lurking-place, presume
not to leave this room till he is brought before me. See to your
obedience, Ralph, or your head shall follow Wallace's."
The king instantly withdrew, and the earl, aware that search would be
made through all his houses, sought in his own mind for some expedient
to apprise Bruce of his danger. To write in the presence=chamber was
impossible; to deliver a message in a whisper would be hazardous--for
most of the surrounding courtiers, seeing the frown with which the king
had left the apartment, marked the commands he gave the marshal: "Be
sure that the Earl of Gloucester quits not this room till I return."
In the confusion of his thoughts, the earl turned his eye on Lord
Montgomery, who had only arrived that very morning from an embassy to
Spain. He had heard with unutterable horror the fate of Wallace; and
extending his interest in him to those whom he loved, had arranged with
Gloucester to accompany him that very evening to pledge his friendship
to Bruce. To Montgomery, then, as to the only man acquainted with his
secret, he turned; and taking his spurs off his feet, and pulling out a
purse of gold, he said aloud, and with as easy an air as he could
assume, "Here, my Lord Montgomery, as you are going directly to
Highgate, I will thank you to call at my lodge; put these spurs and
this purse into the hands of the groom we spoke of; tell him they do
not fit me, and he will know what use to make of them." He then turned
negligently on his heel, and Montgomery quitted the apartment.
The apprehension of this young lord was not less quick than the
invention of his friend. He guessed that the Scottish prince was
betrayed; and to render his escape the less likely to be traced (the
ground being wet, and liable to retain impression), before he went to
the lodge he dismounted in the adjoining wood, and with his own hands
reversed the iron on the feet of the animal he had provided for Bruce.
He then proceeded to the house, and found the object of his mission
disguised as a Carmelite, and in the chapel paying his vesper
adorations to the Almighty Being on whom his whole dependence hung.
Uninfluenced by the robes he wore, his was the devotion of the soul;
and not unaptly at such an hour came one to deliver him from a danger
which, unknown to himself, was then within a few minutes of seizing its
prey.
Montgomery entered; and being instantly recognized by Bruce, the
ingenuous prince, never doubting a noble heart, stretched out his hand
to him. "I take it," returned the earl, "only to give it a parting
grasp. Behold these spurs and purse sent to you by Gloucester. You
know their use. Without further observation follow me." Montgomery
was thus abrupt, because as he left the palace he had heard the marshal
give orders for different military detachments to search every
residence of Gloucester for the Earl of Carrick; and he did not doubt
that the party dispatched to Highgate were now mounting the hill.
Bruce, throwing off his cassock and cowl, again appeared in his martial
garb, and after bending his knee for a moment on the chancel-stone
which covered the remains of Wallace, he followed his friend from the
chapel, and thence through a solitary path to the park, to the center
of the wood. Montgomery pointed to the horse. Bruce grasped the hand
of his faithful conductor. "I go, Montgomery," said he, "to my
kingdom. But its crown shall never clasp my brows till the remains of
Wallace return to their country. And whether peace or the sword
restore them to Scotland, still shall a king's, a brother's friendship
unite my heart to Gloucester and to you." While speaking he vaulted
into his saddle, and receiving the cordial blessings of Montgomery,
touched his good steed with his pointed rowels, and was out of sight in
an instant.