"I am," replied Baliol. "They are now at Galliard, and as her illness seems a lingering one, De Valence declared to me his intentions of continuing there. He seized upon the best apartments, and carried himself with so much haughtiness that, provoked beyond endurance, I ordered my horse and, accompanied by my honest courtiers, rode to Rouen to obtain redress from the governor. But the unworthy Frenchman advised me to go back, and by flattering De Valence try to regain the favor of Edward. I retired in indignation, determined to assert my own rights in my own castle, but the storm overtook me, and being forsaken by false friends, I am saved by generous enemies."
Wallace explained his errand respecting Lady Helen, and anxiously inquired of Baliol whether he meant to return to Galliard?
"Immediately," replied he; "go with me, and if the lady consents (which I do not doubt, for she scorns his prayers for her hand, and passes night and day in tears), I engage to assist in her escape."
Baliol then advised they should not all return to the castle together, the sight of two knights of their appearance accompanying his host being likely to alarm De Valence.
"The quietest way," continued the deposed king, "is the surest. Follow me at a short distance, and toward the shadows of evening, knock at the gates and request a night's entertainment. I will grant it, and then your happy destiny, ever fortunate Wallace, must do the rest."
This scheme being approved, a litter of hurdles was formed for the invalid monarch, and the old woman's pallet spread upon it.
"I will return it to you, my good widow," said Baliol, "and with proofs of my gratitude."
The two friends assisted the king to rise. When he set his food on the floor, he felt so surprisingly better that he though he could ride the journey. Wallace overruled this wish, and with Bruce supported his emaciated figure toward the door. The widow stood to see her guests depart. As Baliol mounted the litter, he slid a piece of gold into her hand. Wallace saw not what the king had given and gave a purse as his reward. Bruce had naught to bestow. He had left Durham with little, and that little was expended.
"My good widow," said he, "I am poor in everything but gratitude. In lieu of gold you must accept my prayers."
"May they, sweet youth," replied she, "return on your own head, giving you bread from the barren land and water out of sterile rock!"