Though the horns still continued to sound, Wallace was too cautious to reply, but wandered about the forest, searching in silence for his lost companions. His efforts, however, were unavailing; and, at the dawn of the morning, he found himself on the verge of the forest. Here he was observed by Butler, who had rode out to view the posts. Dissatisfied with the answer returned to his challenge, the English leader drew his sword, and urged forward his steed. Wallace advancing from under the shade, which partly concealed him, Butler saw, with astonishment, the formidable foe he was in quest of, and prepared to fall back on his nearest position. His retreat, however, was anticipated by a blow which struck him from the saddle, and, before he could recover himself, the sword of his powerful antagonist had levelled him with the dust. Our hero had just reached the stirrup of his fallen enemy, when he observed an Englishman, armed cap-a-pee, advancing in full career towards him, with his spear in rest. By a dexterous management of his horse, he avoided the stroke; and whilst his foe, unable to recover himself, was hurrying past, he lent him a blow on the neck, which sent him headlong to the ground. The alarm was now spread among the English, whom Wallace observed collecting from various quarters to intercept his retreat. Giving the rein to his charger, he shot like an arrow through a straggling party of horse that seemed the least formidable, but who, on recovering from their surprise, set off in full pursuit, followed by the whole of their force.
Though, from his superior knowledge of the country, Wallace was frequently enabled to distance his pursuers; yet the keenness with which they kept up the chase, obliged him several times to turn and act on the offensive. As this was always done in situations where he could not be surrounded, those that were most forward paid dearly for their temerity; whilst the suddenness and fury of his repeated attacks spread a panic to the rear of his enemy, from the idea that he had met a reinforcement of his countrymen. Before the shades of evening had set in, twenty of the English were strewed along the line of his retreat; and those who were foremost, had become very cautious in approaching within reach of his arm. A rising part of the ground had, for some time, hid him from their view; and when they again came in sight of him, he appeared leading his jaded and breathless steed up a steep and rugged pass between two craggy precipices. Though he was soon again obscured in the shades of twilight, from the exhausted state of his horse, they saw little probability of his being able to effect his escape. Having with difficulty followed in his tract, they found, on descending a precipitous defile, an extensive morass spread before them, far as the eye could penetrate, at the edge of which lay the steed of their late commander, expiring from the wounds and fatigue it had encountered; but the object of their pursuit was nowhere to be seen. Strong picquets were sent out in every direction, but all their exertions were fruitless; and they returned at midnight to their head-quarters, without obtaining the slightest trace of the fugitive.
It has been mentioned, in the early part of our history, that the juvenile years of our hero were spent with a brother of his father, a wealthy ecclesiastic at Dunipace in Stirlingshire. Though he was withdrawn from the protection of this relative at an early age, yet he had been long enough under his roof to endear himself to all the servants and dependants. One of the former, a widow, now lived with her three sons in a secluded part of the Torwood, then an extensive forest in Stirlingshire. In the cottage of this woman, Wallace had in former emergencies found a place of concealment from his enemies; and on this occasion, about the dead hour of night, the faithful inmates were startled by the well-known signal at the window. Never did their heroic guest appear before them in greater distress; exhausted from fatigue, faint with hunger, his armour encrusted with blood, and every part of his dress drenched with water, showed the hardships and perils he had undergone.
After quitting his pursuers at the morass, he had, by a passage unknown to them, crossed over to the other side, and made the best of his way towards the Forth. A large force of the enemy, however, occupied Stirling, and he was therefore compelled to take the river at Camskenneth. After much difficulty, from the weight of his armour, he succeeded in gaining the opposite bank, and proceeded forward on his journey, satisfied that he had got considerably the start of his pursuers.
In the neighbourhood of the house where he had now taken refuge, was an oak[81] of huge dimensions, in a cavity of which he had frequently concealed himself from his enemies, when the search was too close to allow of his remaining within doors. To this retreat he now repaired, after partaking of that refreshment which his situation so much required. One of the widow’s sons was despatched to acquaint his uncle with his safety, and to request his assistance; while another was sent off towards the scene of his late conflicts, to obtain, if possible, some intelligence of his lost companions.
The morning was pretty far advanced, when Wallace was awakened from his sleep by the sound of voices, and, starting to his feet, found his uncle and two of the widow’s sons engaged in conversation, one of whom had been watching him during his sleep. His uncle, taking him by the arm, led him apart from the others, and began to inquire into his situation, representing to him, at the same time, the difficulties he was still likely to experience if he continued to persevere in so hopeless a cause. “Your followers,” added he, “are now either slain or dispersed, and all your efforts in the district you have been in, have not procured you a single friend to replace those you have lost; the plunder you have taken has either been recaptured, or left in places where it would be madness to hazard yourself in regaining it. Besides, were you even successful, to your utmost wish, in expelling the English from our country, do you believe that so powerful, so ambitious a prince as Edward, one who is considered the most accomplished warrior of his age, would allow the laurels to be torn from his brow by the son of an obscure Scottish laird? Would not the whole force of his mighty kingdom, assisted, if necessary, by his foreign auxiliaries and vassals, be poured upon our devoted country? Would not the inhuman butcheries which were witnessed at Berwick be again renewed in all our cities? Have we not already had too much experience of his cruelty, to think of increasing our misfortunes by fresh provocations? Listen, therefore, my dear son, to what I am authorized to propose to you. You are aware, that those men, whose duty and interest it was to have defended our country, have submitted to our enemies; if you will, therefore, give over your fruitless hostility to Edward, and acknowledge him as your liege Lord you will, in place of skulking from covert to covert, have it in your power to become the most powerful vassal of his crown.”
Before his uncle had time to explain, Wallace withdrew his arm from his grasp. “My situation,” said he, “is gloomy enough, but not so desperate as you imagine. I regret nothing that has yet happened, save the loss of my gallant friends; but I know where the sound of my horn can still call forth as many resolute spirits as will enable me to revenge their fall. Those who have joined me, know that the liberty of our country is the only object I have in view; and they also know, that I have always been as ready to expose my own life as theirs in the quarrel. The liberty which an unprincipled usurper is endeavouring to deprive us of, is the birthright we have inherited from our ancestors, and which belongs to our posterity, to whom it is our duty to transmit it. If we perish in doing so, we perish in doing what is right; and that God, who made us free men, will avert the scenes you dread, if we show ourselves worthy of his gift. If, on the contrary, we basely surrender what we only hold in trust for our children, the galling yoke of slavery will be a just retribution for defrauding them of their sacred inheritance. As to the proposal, come from whom it may, you can acquaint them, that the destruction of a single enemy of my country’s independence affords me more pleasure than all the wealth which our proud oppressor has it in his power to bestow. Have you forgot, uncle,” said he, while his stern features relaxed into a smile almost sarcastic—“have you forgot
“Dico tibi verum, libertas optima rerum:
Nunquam servili, sub nexu vivito, fili—”[82]
“have you forgot those sentiments which you was at such pains to impress on my mind in the halcyon days of my childhood,[83] when peace was in all our borders, and every man sat under his own vine and fig-tree, enjoying the fatherly protection of a righteous sovereign? And is there to be no effort, no sacrifice made to bring again those days to our poor distracted country?” He was proceeding, when the old man’s eyes became suffused, recollections of the past crowded upon his mind, and he threw himself on the breast of his nephew.
While Wallace was thus engaged with his venerable relative, he was agreeably surprised to see his two friends, Kerle and Stephen, advancing towards him, accompanied by a son of his kind hostess. After mutual congratulations and expressions of joy, for the unexpected meeting, had passed between them, they communicated to each other the particulars of the events that had taken place since their separation; and, after receiving the benediction of the priest, and returning thanks to the Virgin, they retired to consult about their future operations.