The grief and indignation which were felt among the English at St Johnstone, on hearing the doleful recital of the slaughter of their countrymen, induced Sir Gerald Heron,[77] the governor, to allow Sir John Butler, son of the forementioned Sir James, to follow the Scots with all the force of the garrison, to revenge the death of his father. In this undertaking he was joined by Sir William de Lorayne, an officer of reputation, and a great favourite with the soldiery.
Although the force under these leaders amounted to nearly a thousand men, from the admirable management of the Scottish chief, they were kept in a great measure ignorant of their own vast superiority. In the forest of Shortwood, a part of which they endeavoured to invest, their provident enemy had erected a number of rustic fortifications, in the form of squares, communicating with each other, the walls of which were made, by affixing two rows of planks to the trees, and filling up the space between with thorns. Each of these squares had a small opening towards the enemy, and another at the opposite side, for the purpose of retreat; while the advance towards them was intersected by defences, formed in a similar manner, in order to break, and otherwise prevent the approach of too great a body of the enemy. By this means, when the Scots found themselves obliged to retire for shelter to these intrenchments, they could only be pursued in broken and straggling detachments. These defences were not fully completed when the English came in sight; and Wallace, therefore, in order to gain time, appeared at a distant and almost detached part of the wood with a few of his followers, leaving the rest under the command of Stephen of Ireland, to complete the works. On the approach of the English, an arrow from the powerful and unerring hand of our hero, brought down one of their advanced-guard. This had the effect of attracting their attention towards that part of the wood where he had stationed his little party, who also sent their arrows among the English, though not with such good effect as their chief, who continued to bring down his man as they advanced. The enemy, having observed the opening at which Wallace made his appearance to discharge his deadly shafts, sent forward one of the most expert of their Lancashire bowmen to lie in wait for him, while the rest directed their missiles at random toward those parts where they conceived his men to be stationed. It was not long before the eagerness of Wallace betrayed him to the practised hand of his watchful adversary, whose well-directed shaft, after grazing the collar of steel which he usually wore, stuck fast in the fleshy part of his neck. His keen eye, however, soon discovered his lurking foe; and, hurrying towards him, intercepted his retreat, and slew him in front of his companions, who were so struck with the boldness of the deed, that not one of them attempted to oppose his return to his associates. Although the Scots were generally thought inferior to the English in the use of the bow,[78] on the present occasion, having the covering of the wood to shelter them from the superior number and direct view of their adversaries, they managed, by shifting their ground as their enemies advanced, to keep up a kind of bush-fight till after noon; during which time fifteen of the English had been slain by the hand of Wallace, besides a considerable number by his companions. Their arrows being all expended, and having arrived at a part of the forest, where a high cliff prevented their further retreat, Sir William de Lorayne advanced upon them with nearly three hundred men, while Sir Gerald Heron and young Butler remained without the forest, in order to prevent the escape of any of the fugitives. Wallace had just time to make a short animating address to his companions; and placing them so as to have the advantage of the cliff as a protection to their rear, they stood prepared for the onslaught. The English were astonished to find themselves opposed to so small a number of Scots as now appeared waiting their attack, and conceived they would have little else to do than to surround the party and take them prisoners. The determined valour, however, with which they received and repulsed their repeated charges, convinced them that the toils of the day were not yet over. Wallace, who was always a tower of strength to his friends in the hour of danger, displayed, on this occasion, more than his usual heroism. While the strength which nerved his resistless arm excited the greatest enthusiasm among his followers, and spread horror and dismay through the ranks of their enemies, Sir William de Lorayne still urged his men on to the conflict, and they as quickly receded, when they found themselves opposed to that champion of whose strength and exploits they had heard so many appalling accounts. The battle, however, still continued to rage with unabated fury on both sides;—the English, eager to revenge the slaughter of their countrymen, and the Scots, frantic with the wrongs they had already sustained, determined to conquer or die on the spot. At this time their dauntless chief burst like a thunderbolt amidst the thickest of the English; and, having scattered them before him, ascended a little hillock behind which they had retreated, and applying his bugle-horn to his mouth, made the woodlands resound with a bold and animating war-note. The English leader, conceiving that this was done in derision, rallied his forces, and again advanced to the attack. Wallace and his few hardy veterans were soon environed by their enraged assailants, and the battle commenced anew with all the rancour of their former animosities. Though the Scots fought with the most inflexible obstinacy, yet some of them, from the severity of their wounds, appeared unable to continue much longer the unequal contest; but at this critical juncture, Stephen of Ireland, and his party, in obedience to the signal sounded by their chief, suddenly emerged from the brush-wood, and fell upon the rear of the enemy with determined ferocity. Surprised and dismayed at so unexpected an attack, the English fled in the greatest confusion, followed by the victors, who continued the pursuit, making dreadful carnage among them, till they reached the boundary of the forest. Here the terrified fugitives were met by Sir John Butler, at the head of five hundred men. This accession of force obliged the Scots, in their turn, to retreat to their defences—the first of which was carried by the enemy, but at the expense of a considerable number of the bravest of their warriors. The English had now the mortification to find that their opponents had only retired to a second enclosure, from which Wallace, supported by Cleland, Boyd, and a few of the most resolute of his companions, made a sortie, in which, after killing a considerable number, Wallace came in contact with the knight of Lorayne, and at one blow clove him to the chin. His terrified followers shrunk aghast from the ponderous weapon of their gigantic adversary; but urged on by Butler, to revenge the death of their leader, they again crowded round the little band of heroes. Again they were dispersed; and Butler, who had been foremost in the attack, came within reach of the sword of the Scottish champion, which descended with a force that would have cut him to the ground, had not the intervening branch of a tree saved him from the blow, and his men, rushing forward to his assistance, carried him off before it could be repeated. According to some accounts, Butler is said to have been first wounded, and that Sir William de Lorayne was slain in attempting to rescue him from his perilous situation. Whatever may have been the case, the English were so discouraged by the loss of one leader, and the disabling of the other, that they hastily fell back upon the troops left at the entrance of the forest under Sir Gerald Heron. Here a council of war was held, wherein it was proposed to make a simultaneous attack on the defences of the Scots. During the discussion, however, which ensued on the manner of carrying the proposal into effect, Wallace and his companions escaped by the opposite side of the forest, and retreated to Cargyle wood, a situation which afforded them more natural advantages in securing themselves from their numerous assailants.
The English, on the retreat of the Scots, now commenced a strict search after the booty taken from Kincleven Castle. Nothing, however, could be discovered, save the favourite steed of old Butler, which had been left behind in one of the enclosures. On this his wounded son was placed, and the whole cavalcade returned fatigued and dispirited to St Johnstone, leaving one hundred and twenty of their companions dead behind them. Of the Scots, seven were killed, and the rest more or less injured.
From an elevated situation, Wallace had observed the English as they retired to St Johnstone; and, though still smarting from the wounds he had received, returned at midnight to the scene of action with a number of his companions, and dug up the most valuable part of the concealed plunder, which they conveyed to their new retreat, along with whatever arms or other booty the light of the moon enabled them to strip from the dead bodies that lay scattered around them.
A few days after the above rencounter, Wallace is said to have returned to St Johnstone in the disguise of a priest; and a story is told of his having been betrayed by a female, with whom he had become acquainted during his former visit to that place. Repenting, however, of the information she had given his enemies, she disclosed the danger that awaited him just in time to effect his escape. His foes, enraged at the disappointment, again set off in pursuit of him, taking along with them a slough-hound[79] to assist them in discovering his retreats. A sanguinary battle was again fought, in which Wallace lost nine of his remaining followers, and the English leader about one hundred.
In this retreat of the Scots, their chief is also said to have slain one of his followers, named Fawdon, an Irishman, whom he suspected of treachery. Of this man, Blind Harry gives the following unprepossessing description:
“To Wallace thar come ane that hecht Fawdoun;
Melancoly he was of complexioun,
Hewy of statur, dour in his contenance,
Soroufull, sadde, ay dreidfull but plesance.”
The circumstances of his death, are thus narrated by the same author, who justifies the deed on the plea of necessity:
“To the next woode twa myil thai had to gang,
Off vpwith erde; thai yeid with all thair mycht;
Gud hope thai had for it was ner the nycht,
Fawdoun tyryt, and said, he mycht nocht gang.
Wallace was wa to leyff him in that thrang.
He bade him ga, and said the strenth was ner;
But he tharfor wald nocht fastir him ster.
Wallace in ire on the crag cam him ta
With his gud suerd, and strak the hed him fra.
Dreidless to ground derfly he duschit dede,
Fra him he lap, and left him in that stede.
Sum demys it to ill, and othyr sum to gud;
And I say her, into thir termyss rude,
Bettir it was he did, as thinkis me.
Fyrst, to the hunde it mycht gret stoppyn be.
Als Fawdoun was haldyn at [gret] suspicioun;
For he was haldyn of brokill complexioun.
Rycht stark he was, and had bot litill gayne,
Thus Wallace wist: had he beyne left allayne.
And he war fals, to enemyss he wald ga;
Gyff he war trew, the Sothroun wald him sla.
Mycht he do ocht bot tyne him as it was?”