Aguilar_The_Days_of_Bruce.txt topic ['13', '324', '378', '393']
CHAPTER L
Changed indeed was the tweet of Scotland and the for
tunes of her king, in the autumn of 1311, from what we last
beheld them, at the close of 1306. Then heavier and blackei
had the wings of the tempest enshrouded them ; night the
awful night of slavery, persecution, and tyranny had closed
around them, without one star in her ebon mantle, one little
ray to penetrate the thick mists, and breathe of brighter things.
But now hope, hand in hand with liberty, stood on the broad
fields and fertile glens of Scotland ; her wings unloosed and
bright ; her aspect full of smiles, of love ; her voice thrilling to
every Scotsman's heart, and nerving him with yet stronger
energy, even when freedom was attained. One by one had
stars of resplendent lustre shone through the misty veil of
night ; one by one had mists and clouds rolled up and fled,
and the pure and spangled heavens looked down upon the
free. The day-star was lit, the sun of glory had arisen, and
Robert Brace, in the autumn of 1311, was king in something
more than name !
Yet not without the most persevering toil, the most unex-
ampled patience, the most determined resolution, foresight, and
self-control, not without a self-government of temper, passion,
spirit, which man has seldom equalled, and most certainly nev-
er surpassed, had these things been accomplished. Destined
in the end to be the savior of his country, it did indeed seem
as if that same Almighty power who so destined him, who
turned even his one evil deed to good, had manifested His
judgment and His power to him, as to His servants of olden
time. Fearfully was that involuntary crime chastised, ere
power and glory, even freedom was vouchsafed. His own suf-
Googlc
THE DAYB OF BEOCE,
ferings, exile, persecution, defeat, the constant danger of his
life, would have been in themselves sufficient evidence of an
all-seeing Judge ; but in the death, the cruel death of too
many of his noble friends, men whose fidelity and worth had
twined them round his very heart-strings, whose loss was
fraught with infinitely deeper anguish than his own individual
wpes, we may trace still clearer the hand of vengeance, tem-
pered still with long-suffering, yet unending mercy.
From the time of his landing in Scotland, called there as his
contemporaries declare by a supernatural signal from Tum-
berry Head, the success of the Bruce certainly may be said to
commence ; though it was not till the death of their powerful
enemy, Edward of England, in July, 1307, that the Scottish
people permitted themselves to hope and feel their chains were
falling, and they might yet be free.
Accustomed to elude the enemy by dispersing his men into
small parties, the Bruce had repeatedly conquered much great-
er numbers than bis own, and spread universal alarm amidst
the English, by the suddenness and extraordinary skill of his
military movements ; that these dispersions repeatedly perilled
his own life King Robert never heeded. His own courage and
foresight and the unwavering fidelity of his followers so fre-
quently interposed between himself and treachery, that at
length danger itself became little more than excitement and
adventure. The victory of Loudun Hill amply revenged on
Pembroke the defeat at Methven, compelling both him and the
Earl of Gloucester to retreat to Ayrshire ; and from the splen-
dor which accrued from it on the arms of the Bruce, obtained
him the yet more desirable advantage of strong reinforcements
of men, arms, and treasure, and enabled him to pursue his suc-
cess, by driving the English back almost to the borders of their
own land. Skirmish after skirmish, battle after battle followed,
carried on with such surpassing skill and courage by the Bruce,
that his call to battle was at length hailed by his men as a
summons to victory. Finished in all the exercises of chivalry
in the court of Edward, in the wisdom, prudence, and tactics
of a general, Robert Bruce had bought his experience, and was
in consequence yet more fitted for the important post he filled,
at the same time that his dazzling, chivalric qualities gained
him at once the admiration and confidence of his people.
Although perchance it was not till the momentous words
THE DAY3 OF BEUCE. 5
" Edward is dead" rang through Scotland with clarion tongue,
and thrilled to the hearts of her sons, that even the most luke-
warm started from their sluggish sleep, girded their swords to
their sides, and hastened to join their rightful king, and yet
more hope and courage and enthusiasm fired the breasts of
her already devoted patriots, yet enough had been already ac-
complished by the Bruce to till the last moments of the dying
king with the bitterest emotions of disappointed ambition, hatred,
and revenge.
From Burgh-upon- Sands, where his strength had so drooped
he could not proceed further, despite his fixed resolve to hurl
fire and sword on the only land which had dared his power
where the sovereign of England lay awaiting his last hour the
hills of Scotland were visible, and he felt that land was free 1
that the toil, the waste, the dreams of twenty years were vain;
the vision of haughty ambition, of grasping power, had fled
forever. Death was on his heart, and Scotland was uncon-
quered, and would be glorious yet. He felt, he knew this ; for
in this hour of waning power, of fading life, fell the chains of
Scotland. His instructions to his son, partaking as they do in-
finitely less of a civilized and enlightened monarch (for such
was Edward, ere ambition crept into his soul) than of the bar-
barous customs of a savage chief, have betrayed to posterity
that such were his feelings. The imbecile, uncertain character
of the prince was too well known for his father to place any re-
liance upon him, even if his last commands were obeyed, and
one little month after his death sufficed to prove both to Eng-
lish and Scotch that the prognostics of each were verified.
Sir John de Bretagne, Earl of Richmond, and the Earl of
Pembroke were alternately named guardians of Scotland by
the fickle Edward, who, satisfying his conscience with that
measure, hastened back to London, there to enjoy in luxurious
peace the society of Gaveston and other favorites, bearing with
him the dead body of his father, whose last commands he
thought fit, perhaps with some degree of wisdom, to disobey.
King Robert, however, perceiving that the Scottish guardians
were collecting a much larger army than would permit him to
stand the brunt of battle, thought it wiser to lure them to the
northern districts of Scotland, where their forces could not be
so easily increased, and where their total ignorance of the
ground would ably assist his measures against them. Jameg
6 TEE DATS OF BRUCE.
of Douglas he left in Ettrick, to continue the struggle there,
and nobly did that gallant soldier execute his trust. It was
during this war in the north that the illness of the king, the
insult of his foes, and the harrying of Buchan took place, as
described by old Murdoch in the previous chapter. The cita-
dels of Aberdeen, Forfar, and others of equal strength and
importance, surrendered and were dismantled ; and perceiving
the most brilliant success had crowned his efforts in the north,
he divided his forces, dispatching them under able leaders in
various directions, thus to separate the English invaders, and
prevent their compelling him to give them battle in a body, as
at Falkirk, and deciding the fate of Scotland at a blow.
Douglas, Tweedale, and Ettrick were conquered by Lord
James ; and Galloway, despite the- furious defence of its native
chiefs and English allies, aided by the savage nature of its
country, was finally brought into subjection by Edward Bruce,
to whose wild and reckless spirit this daring warfare had been
peculiarly congenial. On every side success had crowned the
Bruce, and then it was he projected and carried into effect his
long-desired vengeance on the Lords of Lorn, whose perse-
cuting enmity demanded such return. Their defeat was total,
despite their advantageous situation in the formidable pass of
Cruachan Ben, where that great mountain sinks down to the
banks of Loch Awe, a road full of precipices on one side, and
a deep lake on the other. The Bruce, following his usual ad-
mirable plan of tactics, sent Douglas with some light troops to
surround the mountain and turn the pass, himself covering the
movement by a threatened assault in front, and thus attacked
in rear, flank, and van at once, all advantage of ground was
lost, and the Lords of Lorn, both father and son, compelled t
The vacillating measures of the second Edward in vain en-
deavored to remedy these evils ; the barons of England, already
disgusted at his unjust preference of upstart minions, either
obeyed the royal commands for fresh musters of forces or neg-
lected them, according to individual pleasure. Their own in-
terests kept them in England ; for, mistrusting their king and
hating his favorites, they imagined their absence would but in-
crease the power of the latter, and effectually remove the for-
mer from their control. Scotland was now a secondary object
I tizocay G00gle
THE DAYS OF BET7CE. 7
with almost all the English nobles; their own prerogatives,
their own private interests were at stake.
Meanwhile, the measures of that now liberated land pro-
ceeded with a steadiness, a wisdom, presenting a forcible con-
trast to those of her former captors. For the first time for
many troubled years the estates of the kingdom assembled, and
by a large and powerful body of representatives declared, in
all proper and solemn form, that Edward's previous award of
the crown to John Baliol was illegal, unjust, and void ; that the
bite deceased Lord of Annandale was the only bar to the crown,
and, in consequence, bis grandson, Robert the Bruce, alone
could be recognized as king ; and all who dared dispute or
deny this right were denounced, and would henceforward be
prosecuted as tra ; tors and abettors of treason ; and not alone
by the laity were these important matters acknowledged and
proclaimed, the clergy of the kingdom, braving the bull of ex-
communication once promulgated against him, issued a solemn
charge to their spiritual flocks, desiring them to recognize the
Bruce as their sovereign.
Roused at length into action, Edward assembled a formidable
army at Berwick, and entered Scotland, but too late in the
season to effect any movement of consequence. Bruce, as
usual, avoiding any decisive action, harassed their march, cut
off their provisions, desolated the country, so that it could pre-
sent nothing but waste and barren deserts to its invaders, and
finally caused Edward to retreat to England out of all patience,
and eager to solace himself with his queen and his favorites at
Carlisle. A second, third, and fourth expedition were planned
and dispatched' against Scotland, but alt equally in vain ; the
last headed by Gaveston, who, despite his foppery and pre-
sumption, had all the qualities of a brave knight and skilful
general, advanced as far as the Frith of Forth, finding, how-
ever, neither man, woman, nor child, cattle nor provender all
as usual was desolate. The villagers, emulating the courage
and forbearance of their sovereign, retreated without a murmur
to the Highlands, carrying with them nil of their property that
' permitted removal, although the extreme severity of the season,
and the various inconveniences resulting from a residence of
some length amid morasses and precipices, rendered this test of
their patriotism more than ordinarily severe.
In was in retaliation for these invasions King Robert planned
8 THE DATS OF BRUCE.
and executed that expedition against England, from which Sir
Amiot and his men were leisurely returning at the commence-
ment of this chapter. He waited but to see his own land
cleared of her invaders, and then like a mountain torrent poured
down his fury on the English frontier. It appeared as if Ga-
veston had scarce returned to his master, with the assurance
that the Scottish king was too far north for any new dis-
turbance at present, when the news of his appearance on
the very threshold of England burst on the astounded king.
It was vain to think of resisting him. For fifteen days the
Bruce remained in England, paying in kind the injuries so
unjustly inflicted upon himself ; and on returning found the
little loss he had sustained amply compensated by the increase
of animation and glee in his troops, and yet more substantially
by the treasure and money amassed, for the northern counties
had found it necessary to purchase his forbearance ; and Robert
rejoiced that it was so, simply that it enabled him in a measure
to repay his devoted subjects for the loyalty they had ever
manifested towards his person, and the aid they had hastened
to bestow in the liberation of their land.
With regard to the other characters of our tale, so little
change had taken place in their fates since we last beheld them,
and that change will so easily be traced in the succeeding pages,
that there is little need to linger upon them.
There was still a shade of sadness tinging the royal scutcheon
of the Bruce. His wife, his child, his sisters, and other near
and dear relatives and friends, were still in the power of Ed-
ward, and from the desultory warfare, to which the interests
of his country compelled him to adhere, there seemed as yet
but little chance of his effecting their liberation. Ransom so
high as Edward would demand(if indeed he would accept it
at all) the Bruce could not pay, without anew impoverishing
his kingdom, and laying heavy taxes on a people ever ready to
sacrifice their all for him, and this his character was far too
exalted and unselfish even to think upon. The only means of
obtaining their freedom was an exchange of prisoners, and this
was ineffectual. He defeated, harassed, and compelled the
English to evacuate Scotland, but, from his avoidance of gen-
eral engagements, he had taken no prisoners whose rank and
consequence would weigh against the detention of his relatives ;
and there was one amid those captives whom, from most un-
Googlc
THE DAYS OF BEUCK. 9
justifiable severity and degradation of a cruel public confine-
ment, the Bruce and his noble followers burned to release.
But the citadel of Berwick, where they believed the Countess
of Bucban still to be immured for the cage was still appa-
rent by its immense strength, numerous garrison, and closely
fortified town, was as yet an object of desire indeed, but one
not possible to be attained, and from that very feeling the Bruce
had rather avoided it in his invasion of England.
The Earl of Buchan, it was rumored and believed, had died
in England, and was imagined to have left his title and estates
to bis son, who, soon after the death of Edward I., bad been
heard of in Scotland as having become a devoted adherent to
the court, and more particularly to the person, of King Ed-
ward, who lavished on him so many favors, that it was sup-
posed bis former boyish folly in adhering to the Bruce and
Scotland was entirely forgotten. Rumor said he bad often
been heard bitterly to regret the past, and bad solemnly sworn
fidelity to England. In what manner this rumor was regarded
by King Robert and his patriots our tale will show, as also the
fate of Agnes.
The Earl of Fife, loving better the rich costume, merry
idlesBe, and sumptuous fare of a courtier, than the heavy ar-
mor, fatiguing duties, and hasty meals of a knight, thought it
wiser to forswear bis dislike to King Robert, the pursuance of
it involving a vast deal of fatigue and danger, and consequently
remained a. neutral in King Edward's court, keeping aloof from
all the quarrels of Oaveston and the barons, and too much
wrapt in his own luxurious selfishness to be needed by either
party.
Gloucester and his noble wife belong to history, and conse-
quently not at present to us. We shall meet the latter again
in a future page.
Amid all his wanderings and various fortunes, two of the
gentler sex, his own near relatives, had remained constant to
the Bruce. Now, indeed, their train and attendants were
much increased; but there had been times when the Lady
Campbell and her daughter Isoline had been alone of their sex
beside their king. It will be remembered that, when that
painful parting took place between the patriot warriors and
those devoted females who had attended them so long. Sir Niel
Campbell, the better to appeal to the chivalric feelings of the
10 THE DAY8 OF BBUOE.
Lord of the Isles, had consented to his wife's earnest solicita-
tion to accompany him ; and also that, despite all his and King
Robert's entreaty to the contrary, she had insisted on herself
and Isoline sharing their hardships in the retreat of Rathlin,
instead of accepting the eagerly proffered hospitality of the
island chief. They were, indeed, as ministering spirits in that
dreary retreat, ever ready to tend, soothe, cheer, to give bright
example of patient fortitude, when that of the sterner sex
seemed failing ; they either suffered not more than their com-
panions, or refused to own or show that they did, for Isoline,
although at first a mere child in years, gave good evidence that
all the noble and endearing qualities of her mother's line were
hers ; and when the fate of the queen and her attendants was
made known, how earnestly did not only Sir Niel but good
King Robert himself rejoice that two at least of those near and
dear relatives were spared them, and as earnestly wish they
had never parted from the rest I
Fatiguing and precarious as their life was in the Brace's
train, compelled at a moment's warning to march from a brief
resting-place, often even to adopt other guise than their own,
still these devoted females were ever found beside their king,
and if Lady Campbell had ever felt anxiety as to the effect
these wanderings would have upon the health and beauty of
her child, they were, at the time we resume our tale, entirely
removed ; for Isoline Campbell at nineteen might have borne
the palm alike of beauty, truth, and dignity, from those born
and bred in a peaceful court, and shielded with the tenderest
care from aught like outward tempest or inward storm. To
most of the youthful knights in her uncle's camp, it had been
only the last two years that she had burst upon them as some
beautiful spirit, whose existence they could scarce trace to the
merry mountain child they had first known, and to whom they
bad in sport taught the use of many a chivalric weapon. No
arrow was more true to its mark than Isoline's ; but latterly,
that the state of her uncle's court permitted her the privileges
due to her sex and rank, security and rest, and perhaps, too,
that she was conscious girlhood was fast merging into a higher
state of being, demanding more reserve, and quietness, and dig-
nity, certain it was these sports were laid aside, and her former
companions bowed before her beauty and owned its spell, as to
one they had only lately known. One indeed saw but the per-
THE DATS OF BRUCE. 11
feeling of charms he had long admired ; yet few suspected the
Lord James of Douglas, whose every thought and speech
seemed of war and freedom, had time for dreams of love, and
that her image had dwelt next his heart, even when her pre-
ceptor in all chivalric sports, her guardian in their hasty marches,
the gallant knight who was ever the first to find some suitable
halting- place, collect freattheath for her couch, some dainty of
fish or fowl to woo her to the rustic board, services she had
ever met with a joyous jest or thrilling laugh, or some deed of
merry mischief. Within the last two years her manner to him
too had changed ; but it differed not an atom from that with
which she ever treated all the other knights, and Douglas could
not, therefore, as he wished, and at first hoped, argue favorably
for himself.
Of one other personage, as a character totally unknown to
our former pages, we must say a few words, and then, craving
pardon for this long digression, proceed to more active scenes.
It was in the pass of Ben Cruachan, in the fierce struggle
between himself and the men of Lorn, King Robert became
aware of the presence of a stranger knight, who, remaining
close as a shadow by his side during the whole of the action,
had fought with a skill, courage, and almost desperation, that
at once riveted upon him the attention of the king, ever alive
to aught of gallantry or chivalry in his leaders an attention
heightened by the fact, that twice or thrice the knight's great
prowess and agility had saved bis own person from imminent
danger. He appeared on the watch to avert and defeat every
attempt to surround and crush the king ; thrusting himself in
the very midst of couched spears and pointed swords, and thus,
by the imminent risk of his own life or liberty, covering the king
when too hard pressed upon, and enabling him to regain his
footing, and press with renewed power on the foe. Much mar-
vel, indeed, his appearance occasioned, even in the heat and
rush of battle, for his armor, the bearings of his shield, nay, his
very mode of fighting, distinguished him as a stranger.
Eagerly the monarch looked to the close of that triumphant
day, to bring this new recruit before him, almost fearing ha
would vanish as suddenly and mysteriously as he had appeared,
but he was not disappointed. That same evening, as he stood
on a ledge of rock about an acre square, surrounded by his gal-
lant leaders, and in sight of all his men, who were rejoicing in
12 THE DAYS OF BBUCK.
their great and decisive triumph, the feud betweea the houses
of Bruce and Comyn, perhaps, adding more zest to their feel-
ings, the stranger knight approached, and kneeling before the
king, besought his acceptance of his services as a soldier, his
homage as a subject, and solemnly swearing fidelity to his per-
son and his cause in both these characters. There was a pecu-
liar and most thrilling mournfulness in his voice, seeming almost
indefinably to denote htm a younger man than he had previously
appeared, and the solemn earnestness of his entreaty appeared
to express a more than common interest in the Brace's reply.
His services were as frankly accepted as they had been tendered,
and warmly the king admired, praised, and acknowledged how
much he had been indebted to the extraordinary gallantry
shown in the previous engagement, adding, with a smile, that
he hoped the knight intended to satisfy the curiosity that brave
conduct had engendered, and remember it was not customary
to tender the homage of a subject with the helmet on and vizor
down. With the same melancholy earnestness of expression
which had marked his previous address, the stranger replied he
was aware of this, and therefore was it that he knelt before the.
Bruce more as a suppliant, than proffering to him that which
was his right ; his helmet he could indeed remove, but he was
under a solemn vow never to reveal his features, birth, or rank,
till, either by his aid, or through his personal agency, a deed
had been accomplished, and freedom given to one of high and
noble birth, unjustly and cruelly detained a prisoner by Edward,
King of England.
" Nay, for that we may go hand in hand with you, young
sir," answered the king ; " there is many a noble prisoner in the
realm of England we would fain see released, but ere that may
be accomplished, I fear me some years must pass. Thine was
a rash vow ; did ye deem its penance but of short duration ?
I could have wished it otherwise, for in our small, well-known,
and well-tried train mystery were better shunned."
"My liege," replied the young man, with an earnestness al-
most startling, " I thought not, reckoned not of the lapse of
time in the adherence to this vow ; till its work be accomplished,
till the freedom of one removes all mystery from me, there is
neither rest, nor joy, nor glory, for the heart now speaking to
your grace. What boots it, then, to think of time ? My honor
and my life are wrapt up in the prisoner whose liberty I seek,
igtzocay G00gle
THE DAYS OF BRUCE. 13
and till that be accomplished, there is no privation, no penance
in the adherence to my tow. I have no name, no follower,
aught but mine own good sword and stainless truth, and the
memory of knighthood from a hand, bold, noble, glorious, as
your grace's own. I ask bu^Httissiaa to follow U^e, to Berve
my country and my king ;^^^^TT^Bh-formanc*e of my vow,
in serving thee alone, majfl^Hpe for its accomplishment, and
injts accomplishment I shU^ffigood service to thy cause."
" But if so much depends upon another, and that other a
prisoner in the power of Edward, tell me, young sir, for we
may scarce reckon with certainty on human life, how will it be
with thee an the prisoner on whom so much depends live not
to he released by man ?"
" Then I, too, may die unknown, for there will be none to
mourn me," burst from the knight's lips, in tones of such pas-
sionate agony, it thrilled to the rudest spirit present, and King
Robert instantly raised him from the ground, bending, as he
did so, to conceal the deep sympathy he felt was stamped upon
his brow.
" Nay, nay," be said, with extreme kindness, " I meant not
to call forth such emotion by a suggestion that, after all, per-
haps, there needed not. We accept the services so nobly ten-
dered ; we give thee full liberty to adhere to thy solemn vow,
and for thy truth and honor we will ourselves be answerable."
Vows similar to that of the stranger, nay, often made for
causes much more trivial, were too much in the spirit of chivalry
to occasion any drawback in his favor. Already prepossessed
by his gallant bearing, his apparent perfection in all knightly
exercises, and, perhaps, still more from the tone of touching
sadness which pervaded his manner and address, the warriors
crowded round, and lavished on him cordiality and kindness.
From that day Sir Amiot de la Branche, for so he became
universally denominated from the bearings on his shield, had
been among the first amidst the Bruce's leaders remarkable for
bravery, untiring fortitude, and most unwearying activity. At
first, at his own request, he simply fought as a knight and sol-
dier in the king's own private guard, but gradually his great
services and excellent counsel raised him higher and higher in
the estimation of all, more particularly in that of the Bruce,
whose talent for discovering the characters of his knights, and
so guiding their various services as always to assign them that
14 THE DAYS OF BRUCE.
which was most congenial, was something remarkable, and at
length he became, at the king's own especial request, leader
of a gallant troop of picked men, many of whom had themselves
requested permission to follow his banner, and in consequence,
tbe fifty named by lliaa|^|^M|djly swelled to double that
number. ^^^^P^
Three years had now passeB^Je his first appearance, and
still his vow was inviolably kept, for, as we have already noticed,
despite the increasing glory and greatness of the Bruce, the
Scottish prisoners still remained in custody in England. Within
the last year, indeed, he was seen more often mingling with
other knights around the Lady Isoline, but even then there was
no evidence of a relaxation in his sadness ; nay, could the
thought of bis private hours have been read, men would have
seen contending emotions struggling at his heart, loth equally
intense, and that, perchance, the fulfilment of his vow was not
now his only impulse the sole end and being of his life indeed
it still was, but perchance it comprised yet more than the libera-
tion of another.
It was strange that in these three years aught concerning this
important prisoner had never been discovered, nor made much
subject of discussion. Some imagined a near relative, perhaps
a father, who had not always been faithful to the Bruce's in-
terests, and consequently the son wished to earn himself a name
ere his own was divulged. But by far the greater number set-
tled in their own minds that it was a lady love he had bound
himself to release ; and this idea obtained so much dominion,
that almost all the court and camp of Bruce found themselves
believing it, as steadily as if the knight bad himself confirmed
it, and thus removing the mystery, all curiosity departed also.
Sir Amiot might have beard these rumors, but he gave them
little heed, and by his silence encouraged all the vagaries of
fancy in which his companions chose to indulge. He went on
his way in public, reserved, sad, cold, nay, almost stem ; in
private, well-nigh crushed beneath the struggle of the spirit
and bitterness of soul, all, all the wretchedness combined in that
one word alone.
= y Google
TEE DAYS OF BKUCK.
CHAPTER IL
It was a gay and brilliant scene which the royal pavilion
presented a few nights after King Robert, his various leaden
and their respective troops, had met and united, amidst the
luxuriant meadows, glens, and hills of Perthshire. About ten
miles southwest of the city of Perth, which was to be the next
object of attack, the tents were pitched, and wood, rock, and
water ^combined to render the site as picturesque as can well be
imagined.
The king's pavilion, which was now adorned with all that
could mark and add dignity to his royal rank, was erected in a
sort of hollow, formed by overhanging cliffs, and environed by
thick trees. It was usually divided into two compartments,
outer and inner, and lined with brocade of Scotland's national
blue, bordered with a broad fringe of silver. A thick curtain,
and narrow passage formed by the rock, separated the royal
tent from that of the Lady Campbell and her train, which was
furnished with many a luxury that the English fugitives, in
their various expeditions, bad left behind them, and formed a
strange contrast to the miserable huts and caves which, but a
very few years previous, had formed their homes. Undeterred by
the unhappy fate of those noble females originally in King
Robert's train, the wives and daughters of those noble men who
had gradually thronged anew round the banner of the Brace
hastened to pay their homage, and swell the train of the Lady
Campbell, as soon as the reviving fortunes of the king per-
mitted such increase. Now some fifteen or twenty noble
maidens and matrons, exclusive of their humbler attendants,
were assembled, and by the beauty of the former, the dignity
and mild demeanor of the latter, added a grace and polish to
King Robert's mountain court which without them, perchance,
had scarce been found.
The night of which we speak, the two compartments of the
royal tent had been thrown into one, and consequently offered
space enough for the chivalry and beauty which the king's
command had there assembled ; the floor was inlaid with
squares of moss, from the darkest to the lightest green, the
palest pink to the deepest crimson, giving the appearance i*
16 THE DAYS OF BKUCE.
rich mosaic, and offering a soft delicious resting to the fairy feet
which pressed it ; garlands of oak, interspersed with flowers of
the heath, and supporting gay banners and pennons, many of
which had been taken from the foe, hung from the brocaded
walls, whose stars of silver glimmered brightly and sparkling
in the light of innumerable lamps which illumined the tent with
radiance equal to the day. The broad banner of Scotland
marked the upper end of the pavilion, where a dais was
erected, seemingly for the king and his immediate family, al-
though it was little needed, for they mingled indiscriminately
with their guests. Many a knight had doffed his heavy har-
ness, and though they laughingly declared they had well-nigh
forgotten how to assume a garb of peace fitted for courtly fes-
tivity, yet they contrived to give themselves an appearance of
gay and splendid costume, that might have vied with the more
luxurious courtiers of England ; velvets and satins slashed with
gold and silver mingled gayly with the sinning steel of the half
armor which many were compelled to retain, from lack of other
clothing. There was good King Robert, somewhat more aged
in feature than we last beheld him, though but little more than
five years had passed, the lines of his countenance were deeper
nnd more strongly marked ; bis cheek was paler, the brow and
eye more thoughtful, and here and there a silver thread peeped
through the rich brown masses of his hair ; there was Lord
Edward Bruce, the only one of his brave brothers left him out
of four ; and there were Randolph, Fitzalan, the Frasera, and
Lennox, forgetting his age to enjoy to the full the scene before
him ; Hay, and others of equal note, and Douglas, despite his
swarthy complexion and irregular features, possessing such
winning courtesy, such chivalric ease and grace of mien, as uni-
versally to bear away the palm of gallantry in such a scene,
even as on a field of war ; and 'mid these manly forms glided,
like spirits of light and air, the graceful figures of the gentler
sex, with soft cheeks blushing beneath the consciousness of
their own beauty, eyes veiled 'neath their long lashes, and steal-
ing but timid glances, up to those with whom they traced the
mazy dance, or loitered listening to tales of knightly lore.
" Wherefore join ye not the dance, my Lord of Douglas ?"
demanded the Lady Isoline, to whom the king had in jest
abdicated his seat of state upon the dais, and who of a truth
filled it as if she had been born and bred a queen. Many a
Google
THE DATS OF BRUCE. 17
youthful cavalier had gathered round her, seeking her smile,
yet Douglas was now there almost alone. " Wherefore join ye
not the dance ?" she said ; " I have seen the devoir of a son of
chivalry most perfectly performed in all save this. Let not
these gay hours pass unenjoyed."
" Nay, they are but too happily detained," he answered ;
"gentle lady, tbey were indeed joyless passed other than by
tby side."
" Nay, my' good lord, in yon fair crowd me thinks there are
many would give dearer reward for your chivalric homage than
ever can Isoline."
"Dearer reward that, lady, cannot be," replied the knight,
in a lower tone, and refusing to discover any meaning in her
words farther than the hour s badinage. " Knowest thou not
the smile that's hardly won is far more precious than that
willingly bestowed ?"
" A woman's mood, my lord, is a most weary study ; and be
assured, the walls of thine own fortress are more easily won
than a smile withheld. Ab, by tbe way, there was some tale
of that redoubted castle, which, like the phoenix, is ever rising
from the ashes in which your prowess hurls it. I would fain
hear from your own lips, for I believe not all they tell me ; it
was unlike my Lord of Douglas."
" What do they tell f demanded the knight, with something
like fierce impatience. " What dare they tell thee false
" Nay, an thou speakest thus, I've done, for of a truth my
news brook not such outbreaks."
" I pray thee, then, be merciful, most noble lady," answered
Douglas, his fiery spirit controlled on the instant beneath
her glance.
"I have been merciful already, as thou shall hear. It was
Sir John Wilton, from whom thy valor last won thy hereditary
castle, was it not?" Douglas bowed, "and it was for the love
of a lady he engaged to hold that terrible fortress a year and
a day i
" Even so, gentle lady."
" And it was rumored you knew this, and yet he fell under
your hand 1"
" And they lied in their teeth who said so !" again fiercely
began Douglas.
D,afec==yGooale
18 THE DAYS OF HEDGE.
" Now peace, fiery spirit ; I tell thee they rumored this, but
I do not tell thee I believed it."
" You did me' but justice, .lady, and I thank thee," replied
Douglas, with feeling.
"Nay, I should have done a kind friend and noble mastei
in all knightly deeds foul wrong had I thought other," said
Isoline, with something less of piquancy than she had yet
deigned to speak. " I heeded the rumor no more than the
breeze which passed me by, nay, I vowed that it was false, for
I knew the Douglas better. Now, then, in return for such con-
sideration, tell me how in truth it chanced."
" I would the tale were more worth your kindly hearing,"
said Douglas, and he spoke with animation, for in the delight
of hearing this insinuated praise, he forgot the lady's first
pointed words. " It does but tell a deed often told before. I
have sworn the home of my fathers should never rest in Eng-
lish hands, while I bear a sword to win it. I heard that again
the insulting foe, despite of the ruin which surrounded it, the
danger they well knew that threatened, had dared to build
anew the walls, to fortify and put in train for a strong defence :
I bad heard this, and swore they should rue it, though it bo
chanced, that being then actively employed in King Robert's
service, some months elapsed before I could approach my na-
tive districts "
" Thus rendering your task more perilous," interposed Iso-
line, "by giving the English sufficient time to fortify and rein-
force. Would it not have been wiser to have sought his grace's
leave to attack it on the instant?"
" Nay, that was not needed ; the rescue of Castle Danger-
ous was my own business, that which detained me King Rob-
ert's, and, of course, of infinitely more importance. At length
his grace, hearing how the districts of Teviot were again un-
der terror of the English stationed in the castle, and knowing
my vow, dismissed me unasked, with about eighty men, whom
I dispersed in all directions, to obtain intelligence. The news
we gained determined my using stratagem rather than a direct
attack, for it was said Sir John Wilton I then knew no more
of him than his name aware of the great peril of his charge,
was more strongly and skilfully guarded than either of his
predecessors, and was prepared against all covert attacks. His
garrison, too, were double the number of my limited force ;
3jl.zo::y GoOgllT
THE DAYS OF BRUCE. 19
therefore I deemed it no disgrace to my knighthood to endeav-
or to lure him to an open field. One of my men, well disguised,
penetrated the castle, obtained the hearing of Sir John, and
informed him that one of the most noted followers of the Bruce,
for whose detention a large reward and much honor was of-
fered by King Edward, lav at a little distance with but eighty
men, offering a fair prize for Sir John, as it needed but part of
his garrison wholly to subdue them and take their leader pris-
oner. The bait took ; for Wilton was in truth a gallant soldier,
and at first spoke of sallying from the castle with but the same
number of men, that we might meet man to man, but my trusty
follower believing that bo few would be but playwork for bis
master, advised Wilton to take with him a hundred and twenty,
or at least a hundred men."
" For which deed the Douglss no doubt was grateful, as it
gave him increase of glory," interrupted the lady ; " I never
yet knew him content with an equal combat. I am glad I ven-
tured to absolve you ere I knew your stratagem was no nn-
knightly one."
" Save, lady, that Sir John, though truly informed as to
numbers, came forth for our capture, believing us unprepared,
whereas we met him in close, compact, and gallant array the
banner of Douglas and its lord at their head ready, which at
a moment's glance he must have perceived, to do battle, not
unto death but for the castle. Could my vow have been per-
formed, the fortress gained more openly, I had forsworn strat-
agem, even such as this."
" Nay, there was little in this, methinks, which the laws of
chivalry could condemn, my lord," said Isoline, somewhat
kindly. " Well, then, ye fought, and this English knight fell ;
and how was it ye knew the tale respecting him 1"
" We did fight, lady, and gallantly, believe me, for Wilton,
conscious too late of his own imprudence in being thus decoyed,
fought like a lion to redeem his error, and to endeavor to make
good a retreat into the fortress. Even as he fought, it struck
me there was something more than common in his gallantry,
eluding every attempt we made for his capture ; he literally
rushed on death, and found it. The field once our own, the
castle speedily and almost without a summons opened its gates,
and its remaining officers and men surrendered. On bearing
the body of the young knight to the castle, and stripping it
20 THE DAYS OF BEUCE.
of the armor, hoping there might be yet signs of life, a letter
dropped from his vest, which had evidently rested on his heart,
its contents dictated by a loving heart, trembling for the fate of
him to whom it was addressed, while it yet animated him to
persevere, as his gallant courage hound him yet closer to her,
first aroused my attention, and I demanded of my prisoners
what it meant. Sir Piers de Monthemar, who had remained
almost in a stupor of grief over the body, started up at my
question, and with fierce invectives gave me the tale I asked,
and which you, lady, already know. It wanted but a brief
month to the appointed time, and Ood wot, had but the faint-
est whisper of this engagement reached me, stern, ruthless, as
they deem me, Douglas had left his father's halls in the hands
of the Sassenach, rather than have done this. They knew me
not who said I knew this, and yet slew him ; perchance they
deem the Douglas hath no heart, no sympathy with those that
love."
" Kay, take not my idle words so much to heart, gallant
knight," said Isoline, gayly, for true to her inward resolve to
give her visibly devoted cavalier no encouragement, she dared
not evince the feeling which the fate of the unfortunate Wil-
ton excited ; " I tell thee I held them as naught, and for these
kindly disposed retailers of men's deeds, nay, of his thoughts
too, why, perchance they deem the gallant Douglas far, far
too wise to have aught in common with poor sorry fools that.
" Nay, lady, I do beseech thee, speak not, think not thus,"
earnestly entreated the knight, in a lower tone ; " fame, glory,
chivalry itself, untouched by love, were like the world without
its sun. Thou hast done thy poor knight justice in this deed ;
believe not, then, he scoffs at love."
" Pardon me, my lord, perchance I should deem him wiser
did he hold it naught," answered the lady, more gravely ; " be-
lieve a woman's word, 'tis all too vain and void and distant for
a noble knight like thee. But hast thou no more of the un-
happy Wilton to tell me ?" she added, quickly changing her
tone and subject ; " thou didst digress ere thy tale was done.
Didst hear aught of his lady love ? Methinks, had she borne
him real affection, she did unwisely to test his courage thus."
" Unwisely, perchance ; yet surely he that could refuse
such a test of love were undeserving of the offered prise. I
i Google
THE DAT3 OF BBUCS. 21
have often regretted that aught of the lady I could never
"And what did your lordship with your prisoners sympa-
thizing as thou didst with Wilton, I should judge thou wert
somewhat less than usually severe ?"
" Forgot for once the interests of his country and king, aye,
and his own," interposed King Robert, gayly, for it was always
a satisfaction to him to perceive his favorite warrior and much-
loved niece in amicable conversation, and he had approached
them just in time to hear and answer Isoline more fully than
Douglas would have done. " Gave them all freedom without
ransom ; sent them, with fair speeches and true knightly cour-
tesy, back to their own land, without even demanding the con-
dition that they would no more draw sword against Scotland.
Did he not more courteously than wisely, my fair niece ?"
" He did as King Robert would have done, my liege, and
therefore did not courteously alone, but well and wisely, aye,
and nobly," and either forgetting her resolve, or really from her
approval of the deed, Isoline turned towards him, every feature
. beaming with such a full and heartfelt smile, that every pulse
of the warrior throbbed, and he bowed his head in acknowl-
edgment, without the power of uttering one word.
" Loves our fair niece her seat of state so well, that she is
loath to quit it even for the dance ?" said the king, smiling.
" Is it not something strange to see Isoline so idle ?
" Nay, my liege, it was more befitting Isoline, as represent-
ative of majesty, to sit it queenly, and call her subjects round
her to list their deeds, than mingle with them in the dance ;
that, good my lord, were all too great an honor. Thinks not
your grace with me V
" I were no knight could I think otherwise," replied the
king, fondly laying his hand on the rich, dark chestnut hair,
whose only ornament was a natural wreath of the delicate blue-
bell and mountain heath.
With a light and playful smile Isoline bent gracefully to her
sovereign, who, with true knightly courtesy, bad raised her
small, white hand to his lips. The eye of the maiden at that
instant rested on the figure of Sir Amiot of the Branch, who,
leaning against one of the supporting pillars of the tent, ap-
peared intently observing her.
For the first time since he bad joined the Bruce he had
22 THE DATS OF BEITCE.
thrown aside his armor, but the suit he wore, though of rich
material, was as sombre as his more warlike habiliments.
Doublet, hose, and the short, graceful mantle were of sable
. velvet, slashed with pale gray satin, whiie the latter was richly
lined with sable fur ; his collar was of the most exquisitely fine
and whitest linen, but perfectly plain, giving no evidence that
gentle bands had been employed in its embroidery, as was the
custom in those days. A plain silver clasp secured it at his
throat, and the only ornaments on his mantle were his armorial
bearings, and their melancholy tale, " JVi ikwk ni paren, jt suit
seul," worked in silver on the shoulder. He still wore the demi-
mask, which permitted the exposure of mouth and chin, and
round the former, as IsoUne first caught his glance, a kind of
half-sad, half- unconscious smile was playing. His hair, which
seemed very thick and long, had been evidently arranged with
the utmost care, and a quantity of glossy raven curls fell on
either side, rather lower than his threat, behind, but in front
only so as completely to shade his cheek.
"And what said these gallant knights? told they your
highness of their brave deeds in England ?" inquired the king,
with an affectation of homage to his fair niece, which sat well
upon him.
" Truly, yes ; they gave fair tidings, goodly proofs that
Scottish knights are of true mettle still for the Lord James
of Douglas, methinks his name will become a terror to the
English, even as that of the valiant Richard to the Saracens of
yore. How is it you alone have failed in duty, youthful sir ?"
she added, suddenly addressing the cavalier of the mask, with
a tone and manner of such peculiar sweetness that he well-
nigh started. " Must I impeach you of unknightly disaffection,
and deem you most disloyal ?"
" Sir Amiot, what hast thou done ?" rejoined .Robert, laugh-
ing, though a slight and scarcely perceptible shade gathered
for the moment on the brow of Douglas, who, though at times
conversing with the knights and maidens who passed him, still
stood by the side of Isoline, listening to her words as if tbey
were too precious to be lost even when not addressed to
himself.
" Unknightly disaffection, disloyalty ! these are heavy charges,
sir knight, and from a lady," continued the king. "Pray you,
haste to answer them, for an thou art as faithful a subject to
THE DATS OF EKUCK. 28
the present occupant of this royal seat as gallant soldier to the
Brace, thon art all too valuable to be lightly lost."
" We ask you then, fair sir," said Isoline, cheerfully, follow-
ing the king's words, " and in all charity, for we hold your
knighthood in good favor, wherefore, when other gallant knights
and noble gentlemen approached this throne to do us homage
and report their knightly deeds, seeking reward we are willing
to bestow, you alone, of this goodly company, have kept aloo*
seemingly disdainful of our power? Call ye not this disloyal,
and most unknightly disaffection?"
" Even bo it seemeth, gracious madam," replied the knight,
entering into the spirit of her words, and bending his knee with
humility far more real than affected, though to those who stood
around it seemed but the latter ; " yet though I fear me I can
make but weak defence, I do most utterly deny the charge.
I knew not, lady, that the same honor, the same kindly cour-
tesy awaited the nameless adventurer as these noble knights of
stainless names and high distinguished race, else had I been
amid the first to pay my homage and report my humble deeds ;
I knew not this, and kept aloof, though my will indeed had
brought me here."
" Nay, an thou puttest bo much of earnest in thy tone, sir
knight, we must have done, extending the sceptre of mercy,
though in truth not half convinced. Hath thy knighthood
passed so unregarded by King Robert, we would yet ask, that
thou dost still feel it needs a name ?"
"Pardon me, lady, but to King Robert I am a soldier and a
subject, whose truth and worth need proof, and scarce a name ;
thou, lady, a high and noble maiden, methonght, perchance,
had demanded more, and I came not, lest it seemed mine
homage neared presumption more than duty."
" 'fiuly, my gallant knight speaks well," said the king, nod-
ding approvingly; "thou must forgive his seeming lack of
homage, sweet Isoline, be it but for my sake."
" Nay, good my liege, willing as we would be to do thy will,
Sir Amiot s defence absolves himself. Sir knight, thou art
excused ; we hold thee faithful subject, and would our favor
possessed sufficient power to chase all sadness from thy heart."
" And now, sir, that ye have satisfied the Lady Isoline, be
kind enough to satisfy me," began Douglas, half jest, half
earnest, Ms secret feelings inclining perhaps far more to the lat-
24 THE DAYS OF BKUCK.
ter than the former. " By what right, an you feared the Lady
Isoline too much to do her homage, wear you those flowers ? '
" By what right, my lord?" replied the young knight, glanc-
ing at a very small bunch of bluebells and heath which he wore ;
" by that right which Nature gives all her votaries. I sought
her shrine, and plucked them ; her grasp was not so firm as to
deny my wish."
" And knowest thou not, an thou fearest so much the charge
of presumption, the wearing them is a bold challenge to all
knights and gentles, proclaiming the Lady Isoline's favor is all
" What, for proving his' taste in Nature's jewels is as unde-
niable as mine own ? Now, shame on thee, Douglas, for the
charge 1" interposed the lady, gayly. " Thou art over-careful
of our favor, sir ; yet an thou deemest yon lonely cavalier too
highly honored, even by the permission to wear his own culled
flowers, there are buds enow, for ail who choose to take them
and dub themselves my knights."
She removed the rich wreath from her beautiful hair as she
spoke, and unloosing its lightly twined stalks, replaced a few
in a gracefully falling bunch on one side of her head, and threw
the remainder a few paces from her, smiling with an expression
of the most mischievous archness, as the young knights. Lord
Douglas amongst the first, eagerly darted forward to possess
themselves of the coveted prize. For one moment, however,
her smile betrayed a deeper feeling, for she saw Sir Amiot
quickly and silently, as if fearful of observation, bend down to
raise a tiny sprig of purple heath, which had fallen close at
his feet, and hide it in his vest. Whether the perceiving this
action occasioned this deeper smile we know not, and Isoline
herself, determined there should be no cessation in her merry
raillery, again addressed the masked knight.
" Tell me. Sir Amiot, how fared ye in the late expedition ?
our royal uncle reports marvels of your prowess, and for our-
self," her voice, though her words were still jest, thrilled in its
sweetness on her listener's heart, " we would know if thy vow
be any the nearer its completion. Hast heard aught, discovered
aught of the prisoner you seek V
" Alas ! no, lady ; I scarce had dared to hope it, yet when
again on Scottish ground my heart sunk lower, as if hope had
been there, although I knew it not. I must still strive, still
THE DAYB OF BEUCS. 25
struggle, aye, and hope, despite her falsity, that even if my
sword fail in the actual deed'of liberation, yet when the King
of Scotland may demand at Edward's hands the restoration of
every Scottish prisoner by him detained in exile, his lip, King
Robert's lip, may free me of my vow. Merciful heaven ! who,
what is that wherefore looks she thus how came she here ?"
he exclaimed, extreme and startling agitation both of voice and
manner suddenly usurping the place of his former sad, collected
tones, and he hurried question after question, as if terrified at
the sound of his own voice. Alarmed and astonished, Iaoline
hastily turned in the direction of his hand, and though the
object on which he gazed was no strange one to her, that it
could cause him such extraordinary emotion not a little in-
creased the mystery around him.
It was the figure of a female, seemingly, from the aerial light-
ness of the peculiarly delicate and tiny form, the exquisite beauty
of every feature, which were all cast in the same minute mould,
the wild mirth which at that instant was visible round her lip
and in her eye, one in the very first stage of life, whose only
dream was joy. But this was but the fancy of the first glance ;
the next, and the heart sunk back appalled, for there was a
light in those deep blue eyes, a continual changing of expres-
sion, from the height of glee to the darkest depths of misery,
round the beautiful mouth, an absence of all glow on the softly
rounded cheek, which seemed to whisper that the mind that
lovely shell contained was gone, and yet there was a something
round her, even as it proclaimed the loss of mind, that it had
existed, it was a wreck and not a void on which they gazed
and yet, how could this be ? so young, so beautiful she seemed.
How could she have known, encountered misery sufficient for
this fatal ill ? What could have wrecked the mind, if indeed
there had been a time when its light illumined its beauteous
dwelling oh, who might answer ?
She had come within that gorgeous tent unseen, at first un-
heard, and when that low, musical laugh of momentary glee
betrayed her, the gay crowd paused and turned to look upon
her, with spirits chilled in their mirth ; sympathy, reverence,
aye, something near akin to awe, the rudest amongst them ever
felt, when, like a spirit of another sphere, she stood amongst
them, for they knew the storm which had caused that wreck ;
the bolt which had fallen on that brain and heart, and buried
vol. n. 8
26 THE DATS OF BBtJGE.
all of mind and life beneath its desolation. As Isoline, attract-
ed by Sir Amiot's emotion, met the glance of the afflicted girl,
who stood with her long, wavy bair gleaming as pale gold,
falling well-nigh to her knees, forming a natural mantle around
the pale blue robe she wore, after the first moment of astonish-
ment, remembering it had so chanced that Sir Amiot had cer-
tainly never beheld, and perhaps never been aware of the ex-
istence of such a being before, she accounted for his agitation
S" the effect that her sudden presence generally produced, an
;ct likely to be more startling to a mind sensitive, nay, almost
morbid, as she believed Sir Amiot's, than even upon otheis.
But all expression of mirth passed from the Lady Isoline's
features as she beheld her, when again she turned to answer
the knight ; there was a sadness, a depth and capability of feel-
ing in her large, dark eyes, which a minute before had seemed
well-nigh incompatible with their sparkling mirth.
"It is Agnes, the only daughter, perhaps now I should say
the only child of the Countess of Buchan, and the jinfortunate
bride, and, alas ! widow of my noble, my murdered kinsman,
Nigel. Hast thou not heard her tale? perchance not, for the
memory of that which has made her thus is fraught with such
agony to the king, men seldom speak.it but in whispers. Alas !
its terrible truth would never pass from bis mind, even if that
lovely being did not so continually and so fearfully recall it."
" Made her thus ! what mean you ?" answered the knight,
still painfully agitated.
" Canst thou not see ? yet perchance no ; to a stranger's eyes
that loveliness seems too perfect for the total wreck of mind."
"God in heaven! mean you the mind the beautiful, the
S'ftcd mind, the loving heart, the gentle spirit?" He checked
mself abruptly, for Isoline's glance rested on bim in utter be-
wilderment, and added, in tones struggling for calmness, " Mean
you the mind has gone ?"
" Alas ! 'tis even so."
The knight struggled, but in rain, to suppress a smothered
" How wherefore- why have I not seen her, known it be-
fore ?" fell in stifled and disjointed sentences from his lips.
" 'Tis a tale of sorrow," replied Isoline ; " and yet I marvel
thou hast not heard it."
" I knew only she was engaged to the youngest brother of
THE DATS OF BHOCE. 2T
the Bruce, the noble Nigel, whom in former yean I knew and
loved, and would hare died to save ; but thou aayest the bride,
the widow were they married ?"
" Yes, the Abbot of Scone united them at the altar's foot
their tows were pledged ; the whole ceremony completed,
when that fearful conflagration took place by which the castle
of Kildrummie was won by the English, and of which you must
have heard."
"Ignited by treachery within the fortress, was it not?" de-
manded Sir Amiot, compelling himself to speak, that he might
conceal the emotion with which he listened to the tale.
" It was. Sir Nigel rushed from the side of Agnes to strug-
gle even unto death. From nightfall to noon the following day
the desperate strife continued, with little intermission. He was
taken prisoner by an accident causing his foot to slip, the par-
ticulars of which you may hear elsewhere, and he never saw
his Agnes again till just before the Earl of Hereford set off on
his march to England, when she rejoined him in the disguise of
a page ; a disguise, it appears, so complete, that at the first
moment even Nigel did not know her."
" And she stayed with him, followed him. Heroic, devoted
being ! how little did we dream thou couldst have done this
but pardon me, lady, I pray you proceed."
" She did follow him, in the vague hope that through the in-
fluence of the Princess Joan, whom she sought travelling
alone, and almost all the way on foot from Berwick to Carlisle
for the purpose she might obtain the ear of Edward and sup-
plicate his mercy. She heard the tyrant swear his death, that
the warrant had gone, and only recovered from a succession of
fainting fits, to return to the prison of her husband, with whom
she remained till they came to prepare him for the scaffold.
The Earl of Gloucester hoped to have borne her from the tower
before the crowds had collected, but, from unavoidable deten-
tion, they became so impeded and surrounded that retreat was
impossible, and the wretched girl witnessed all, all which a
tyrant's cruelty inflicted on her husband."
An exclamation of horror burst from Sir Amiot, but still be
signed to Isoline to proceed.
" " Still she sunk not, although her only thought seemed the
desire to repeat my murdered kinsman's last words to the king ;
the mind indeed seemed wandering, but not utterly a wreck.
^tiz^y Google
Under charge of old Dermid, the seer and minstrel of out
house, from whom I heard thia painful tale, she proceeded to
Scotland, her aged conductor harassed by the most fearful
anxiety lest the Earl of Buchan, who had discovered his daugh-
ter in the supposed page, and who had awom she should bit-
terly rue her union with a Bruce, should track their wanderings,
and, by obtaining possession of her person, throw the last drop
of gall in her already bitter cup. He heard that he was close
at hand, by some remarks he bad caught in their last halting-
place, believed their persons were known, and all was lost ;
still he proceeded, but was at length compelled, by the increas-
ing exhaustion of Agnes and the advance of night, to seek shel-
ter in a lonely house lying in the thickest part of the woods of
Carrick. There for a few brief hours he believed they were
safe, when the quickly excited ear of the poor girl caught the
trampling of horse, and though she was not sensible of the
danger which in reality threatened her, it appeared to excite
her in no common degree. Dermid has told me the agony of
that moment was to him as a whole life of suffering, for no
thought was in his mind save of the tyrant earl. Judge, then,
his relief, his joy, when, instead of the dreaded figure of
Buchan, King Robert himself entered the room, and Agnes
recognized him at once, though the effort to speak the words
which pressed like molten lead on her heart and brain was
utterly useless, and laid her senseless at his feet."
"But were they spoken?" murmured the knight, his voice
well-nigh suffocated.
" Yes, after a long, long interval of utter unconsciousness.
The agony of the king, on learning from Dermid all that had
chanced, that the brother he absolutely idolized, till he seemed
to feel him brother, son, and friend in one, had fallen in his
cause and by the hangman's cord agony no words can de-
scribe ; for that noble spirit seemed bowed, crushed to the very
earth beneath it, and his every effort vain to rouse it. The
sight of him, his grief, appeared to rouse Agnes for the time,
and with tearless eye and unfaltering voice she repeated, word
for word, all that Nigel had spoken the last night they spent
together. Not alone his message to the king, but iiis impas-
sioned dreams, his prophetic visions for the future welfare of
Scotland and success of her king, his own joy in death for
them, his fervid hopes for and belief in that world on whose
^tiz^y Google
THH DATS OF BBtJOB. 29
threshold he stood rapidly as one impelled she spoke ; but
there was no change in the low almost unearthly voice, no
quivering in the eye, no glow in the death-like cheek, and
when she ceased, voice, consciousness, and life itself seemed to
depart, and for three years she thus remained. But for the
wandering eye, the low, fearful whisper which had no meaning,
the sigh that often burst from her breast, unconsciously for
she would start and look round as marvelling whence it came
it seemed as if existence itself had departed, that she lived
not ; and yet, ob, it was not the blessed calm, the joy of death,
which all who loved her prayed might be her portion."
"But where was she these three years ? and how, oh how
came she as she is now ?" inquired Sir Amiot, strangely moved.
"You shall hear. My royal uncle, whose devoted love for
his murdered brother seemed now divided between his memory
and this poor unhappy girl who had so loved him, could not at
first bear the idea of parting from her, wishing himself to watch
over, tend her, as Nigel's last words had implored him to do,
and as his own heart prompted, but becoming at last convinced,
by my mother's advice, that it was far better she should be left
in some safe and kindly keeping till his affairs were more pros-
perous, placed her in charge of the Abbess of St. Clair, superior
of a convent among the mountains and lakes of Inverness, and
an aged and faithful kinswoman of our own. There, from time
to time, the king and some of us have visited her, but until near-
ly two years ago there was no sign of change either of mind or
body. Had maternal kindness been of aught avail, the abbess's
gentle care and love would long ere then have been successful,
but, alas! the disease was too deeply rooted; and my uncle's
anguish was so fearfully renewed every time he beheld her, that
at last, for his sake as well as hers, we felt death would be in-
deed a blessing. Look at him now, and if thou deemest the
expression of that noble face even now is pain, think what it
must have been formerly, when I tell thee the feeling with
which he looks upon her now is absolutely joy, compared to
what it has been."
Sir Amiot followed her glance. On the first appearance of
Agnes within the tent, King Robert had quitted the side of his
niece and hastened towards her, and he now stood with his arm
round her slender waist, his head bent down caressingly, as her
sweet colorless face was turned up to his, her two hands resting
D S lzo;;y GoOglc
80 THE DATS OF BRUCE.
clasped on his bosom, and a taint smile beaming in her eyes and
round her lip, giving both face and attitude the semblance of a
child, whose only consciousness was love and confidence in him
against whose heart she leaned. There was deep, touching sad-
ness on the monarch's face, despite the smile with which he
sought to answer hers ; sadness that confirmed, at a momentary
glnnce, the words of Isoline. Sir Amiot read all a brother's
love, all the harrowing memories of the past which that face
conjured up, and he read, too, how devotedly, how even as a
father the sovereign looked on her, and cherished, fostered, aye,
and grieved over that awful affliction, as if in very truth she
werehis own, own child. Where was the warrior, as he thus
bent over her ? where the triumphant sovereign, the glorious
savior of his land ? Vainly might these things have then heen
sought ; he stood and seemed but the mourning father of an
afflicted, but from that very affliction an idolized child.
Sir Amiot gazed, and there was such a gush of grief upon his
heart, such a wild torrent of impetuous feeling sweeping over
his spirit, threatening, an he gave it not vent, to crush him to
the earth, that the whole scene danced before his eyes, the very
lights grew dim ; he saw naught but a well -remembered cham-
ber far, far away from that spot, and that face, that sweet face,
not as it was now, and another answering to the endearing name
of " mother !" from that fair girl, and from And what was
it he longed to do ? to clasp that lovely being to his throbbing
heart, to fling himself before King Robert, and swear yet deep-
er, dearer homage, for oh, he had but dreamed he loved the
king before, now only was it that he felt its depth. Well it was
that mask in part concealed his features, the convulsed lip, and
starting eye indeed could scarcely be concealed ; but by those
around him such emotion was easily attributable to the sad tale
he beard, repeated as it was in such thrilling tones of sympathy
by the beautiful, tbe gifted Isoline.
" And the change we see, how came it ?" at length he asked,
though the effort to speak calmly caused his very brain to reel.
" How it came indeed none may know, but gradually it took
place, so gradually, that indeed the final change seemed to
startle by its suddenness. _ Rather less than two years since she
became so alarmingly ill, that the abbess sent for the king, im-
agining that the last change was taking place, and the beautiful
spirit about to be released ; but we were all mistaken, she re-
IBB DAYS OF BBtJCK. 81
covered with a suddenness that seemed unnatural, and front
that hour has been as thou seest now, even as a child, save
that, alas! there is no awakening intellect, naught that may
promise the summer shall be beautiful as the spring, the flower
as the bud."
" Hath she no memory of the past ? no feeling of the pres-
ent ?" inquired the knight.
" There are momenta, when it would seem the memories of
the past occasion paroxysms of agony, although the actual
cause of that agony appears undefined ; she speaks as if con.
tinnally expecting a beloved one, looking for his return from
distant lands or worlds it may be, anticipating his summons,
and then sinking into despondency that it is so long delayed.
For the present, her strongest feeling is affection clinging, ca-
ressing, confiding as a child's for a parent for the person of
the king ; from the moment she recovered from the sudden ill-
ness I mentioned, and the present change took place, this feel-
ing appeared to take possession of her. She will sit for hours
in his tent, on a low seat by his side, her hands on his knee,
and looking up in his face, as thou sawest just now, seldom
speaking, seemingly quite contented to be near him, and when
compelled to be separated, as during bis last expedition into
England, she yielded indeed because he besought her to remain
with my mother and myself till his return ; but she wept when
he was gone, and would not be comforted."
" And can you account for this affection, lady ?"
"Some believe it to have arisen simply from his love for her,
which, despite her affliction, she is quite conscious of; for my-
self, I believe there is yet another and more powerful cause.
I have always fancied a strong family likeness existed between
the king and my kinsman Nigel."
" And you imagine she too perceives this, and is drawn closer
to him, though she herself could not tell you why ! It is likely,
very likely," interposed the knight
" I do think so ; and more, that in the faint shadowy outlines
which her mind bears of the past, there are still some dim as-
sociations connected with him as King of Scotland, which com-
bine to draw that link closer. I have thought this still more
strongly from observing her, when he is about to join in battle,
or expects any meeting with the foe ; a spirit almost of pro-
phecy comes upon her, and she dismisses all thought of defeat.
83 THE DAYS OF BBTJOE.
w a thing impossible, repeating the last inspiring words of bar
husband, as if she felt and believed them the voice of heaven
granted to herself."
" And does she ever say who originally spoke them ? ever
at such times allude to him ?"
" Not in actual words ; but it is ever after such a spirit of
prophecy has come upon her that the paroxysm of agony re-
turns, as if a black shapeless mass of memories arose before
her, all of woe, but not one distinct."
" Is there none other whom she affects besides the king ? It
is strange, clinging to him as you describe, I have never seen
her until now.
" Hardly strange, Sir Amiot, for the year you were close by
the person of my royal uncle she had not joined us; until the
king held a temporary court at Dumbarton, you were generally
with my uncle Edward or Lord Douglas, and at court she was
kept apart from all, save ourselves : the king could not bear her
affliction to be seen and cavilled on. During the retreat to the
north, and the late expedition, she was with my mother, myself,
and others, in the convent of St. Clair. That she is more sus-
ceptible of feeling, of passing emotion, than during the first
three years of her affliction I quite believe, but I know not if
she affects any one very particularly, with the sole exception of
the king ; and latterly, perchance, myself."
" Thee doth she love thee, sweet lady ?" interrupted her
companion, with startling earnestness ; then hastily checking
himself, added, more calmly, "no marvel that she should, thou,
who art kind to all, wouldst show yet double kindness to that
poor afflicted one, and wrecked as is the spirit, it may be con-
scious yet of that ; thou art, thou wilt be kind to her, ' he add-
ed, almost unconsciously.
"I were indeed no woman, were I not," answered Isoline,
controlling her surprise. " I loved her when but a child I
seemed to her, and now, in her affliction, oh, she is doubly
dear."
She broke off somewhat abruptly, and perceiving the eyes
of Agnes wander, as in search for some one, hastily advanced
towards her ; urged by an irresistible influence, Sir Amiot fol-
lowed.
" Sweet one, thou hast shunned me : I have come to chide,"
said Isoline, softly, as Agnes laid her hand on hers," and looked
TBS DATB OP BRUCE. 38
up in her face without speaking. " Wherefore linger in this
one spot so long ? 'tis a gay and pleasant scene, mine Agnes."
" He was here, they told me so; I came to him," whs the
answer, to catch which Sir Aroiot bad bent forward, and the
voice that spake it was of a wild and thrilling sweetness, as the
carol of a bird.
" And was there none else you sought ? Shame, shame on
you, dear girl !"
" Oh yes, there is one I always seek, but he will not come to
me here. I do not hear his whisper, it is too soft, too sweet to
pierce through tones as these he is floating above me in the
blue aud shapeless space, and he has bis golden harp slung
round his neck, and be draws forth such loving, lingering tones ;
oh, they will not sound here, it is too narrow, too confined I
cannot hear them, cannot see him now. When, when will he
come for me ? he smiles so often on me, aye, and seems to
beckon. Wheu shall I go to him ? why cannot I go now V
and Isoline drew her closer to her heart in silence, for the dark
cloud had come upon ber brow it passed, and again she spoke.
" Why wear ye these flowers, Isoline ? I love to say your
name, it is so sweet. But why wear these? oh, they are such
sorrowful flowers !"
" Sorrowful, dearest ? wherefore ? Is not the bluebell our
own hale Scottish flower, and the mountain heath, too, its own
true emblem ?"
" The heath call ye this heath ? Oh yes, I have plucked
it on the mountain and the glen, aud woven bright garlands to
woo back my own truant love, and chain him by my side, and
he has hovered over me and smiled, but he might not come.
I love that flower it is free and fresh, and true, like him ; but
these, tbese" she pointed tremblingly to the bluebells "oh,
they are no buds for love ; he plucked them for me once, and
they withered as I touched them, and lay dead and faded,
and they told what my heart would be, and I would not have
thine like it, sweet Isoline ; for though I smile, oh, it feels
such a strange smile, it seems as if I had other smiles once,
but I know not when, and my heart throbs as if it were not
always withered as it is now, and those flowers always speak
mournfully, but they look too fresh, too bright, for a gift of love."
" They were no gift of love, sweet one ; my own hand plucked
them from the dewy grass."
2*
34 THE DATS OF BBUCK.
" Ah, then they will not die yet ; but do not take them from
a hand of love, laoline, they will part you from joy as they do
me. Oh, I see him sometimes so near me, I feel as if I could
spring to his arms, and then, oh, a flowery chain divides us
.they Tall at my feet, and then he has gone."
" Are they indeed so ill-omened ?" fell from Sir Amiot'a
lips, in a low yet distinct voice, as he looked a moment from
the form of Agnes to the flowers he wore. She started at his
voice, raising her head from the bosom of Isoline, and passed
her hand across her brow, while for the space of a minute the
countenance so varied in expression as to cause both the king
and Isoline to look at her in alarm.
" Who spoke ?" she asked at length, in a voice so changed
that it seemed almost the voice of awakened consciousness ;
" who spoke?"
" It was I, lady," answered the knight, and lifting up his face
to hers, so that the full and tearful glance of bis dark eyes met
hers.
"A gallant soldier, sweet one!" continued the king, per-
ceiving that the troubled expression continued, and dreading a
recurrence of those paroxysms to which Isoline had alluded,
and which often came, excited from little or no cause; "one
whom I hold in high favor ; thou dost not know him, love."
Again she passed her hand over her brow, the shade deep-
ened a moment, a convulsive motion quivered round the lip,
and glazed the eye wildly on his ; but then as suddenly it re-
laxed, the eye resumed its varying light, the features their un-
settled yet softened play, and a low, musical laugh escaped
her.
" It was a wild fancy, sweet Isoline. I dream sometimes of
such strange things, and they come with such pain, too, here
and here," she placed her hand alternately on her heart and
head ; " but I am not in pain now ; it did not last long this
time. And what was it brought it do you know?"
"Was it the voice of a stranger, dearest ?"
" A stranger ? it might be, but it was not his. Oh, no, no !
It is only when I am alone he speaks to me, and tells me how
much he loves me still, though he cannot come to me yet. But
some other voice came to me then. Me thought I was a child
again, and such bright forms fleeted by me, flashing out of such
deep darkness ; but they are all gone, all gone now," and with
THE DAW OF BBCOB. 85
the swiftness of thought she threw her arms round the neck of
Isoline, and wept like an infant.
"Come with me, mine own lore; we will go forth a brief
while and look out upon the night; thou lovest to gaie upon
the stars, sweet Agnes. Wilt thou come?"
" Yea, yes ! it is silent, holy there. Oh, I cannot bear these
sounds ; a moment since I loved them, but they are too harsh,
too mournful now."
Sir Amiot hastily and silently stepped aside for them to
pass ; and strange was it that when the eye of Lord Douglas
rested with increased reverence and love on the lovely form of
Isoline, always majestic, always noble, bat at that moment, as
she tenderly supported the bending form of her afflicted friend
with all a woman's sympathy it was strange, we say, that at
such a moment Sir Amiot scarcely saw her; that his look,
which, if seen, would have betrayed impassioned agony, saw
but one of those lovely beings, and that was Agnes.
Attended by King Robert, they disappeared behind the cur-
tain of the tent, and for a moment Sir Amiot remained spell-
bound where he stood. He was roused by the bluff and glee-
some voice of Lord Edward Bruce, demanding wherefore he
stood so idle there, when all the laws of chivalry were impeach-
ing him as traitor to the fair. He strove to answer, but his
tongue clave to the roof of his mouth, his brain reeled, and
there came but an unintelligible sound.
Perceiving such evident suffering, the kind-hearted warrior
rallied him no longer, and Sir Amiot controlled himself suffi-
ciently to walk calmly from the tent. He stood a moment be-
neath the starlight vault of heaven, the fresh breeze playing
delightfully on his heated brow ; suddenly the mournful ac-
cents of the unhappy Agnes fell on bis ear again, sweet as he
had heard them first He saw her light form, seeming yet
more spirit-like in that vast and beautiful expanse of hill and
valley, clothed in the solemn drapery of night, than it had been
even in the illuminated tent ; and that deep anguish came back
upon bis soul, heightened by the notes of music floating from
within. He darted from the spot, springing over crag and
bush, till nor sound nor sight of man was near, and then he
flung himself upon the glistening grass, and the bold, the brave,
the unmoved warrior buried his face in his trembling hands
and sobbed aloud.
3jl.zo::y GoOgllT
THE DATS OF VB.VCW,.
CHAPTER HI.
Kino Robert's power was fast increasing. Perth was
gained, another link in Scotland's chain was broken, yet the
desires of the husband and father remained as far from com-
pletion as ever. Some prisoners of consequence, indeed, were
taken, but none of such importance as to demand the Scottish
prisoners for their exchange, and the king and his gallant com-
Cions were in consequence compelled to rest content with the
vy ransoms offered by the knights themselves for their
release.
Although several soldiers and officers were quartered in the
city, and King Robert himself, at the earnest entreaty of the
loyal inhabitants, took up his residence for a few days in the
Abbey of Black Friars, yet the principal encampment was still
without the town, both officers and men preferring the free
scope of heaven to the confinement of the city. The king's
pavilion was there also erected, and there he speedily returned,
as much for the sake of Agnes who, though she would not
leave him, appeared unusually sad in the monastery as his
own. The fit of prophecy had come upon her as usual, when
he marched forth with his warriors to the storming of the city,
and the crushing agony which followed appeared to have lasted
longer than heretofore. On returning to the camp, however,
and permitted unrestrainedly to wander where she would, she
gradually returned to her usual mood.
Some few weeks after the capture of Perth, the Knight of
the Branch found himself, early one lovely morning, roving idly
amid the glens and woods on the outskirts of the camp. He
had sought them with no particular purpose, save to disperse
the feverish sensations, both of mind and body, with which a
restless night had oppressed him, and therefore found the fresh,
springy breeze of October particularly grateful. Absorbed for
& while in bis own thoughts, which by his elastic step might be
imagined somewhat less sad than usual, the song of the birds,
the rustling of the falling leaves, the silvery murmur of many
mountain streams came sweetly harmonized upon his ear, with-
out creating any distinct images, until they were joined by a
sweet, thrilling, human voice, which caused him not only to
3jl.zo::y GoOglc
THE OATS Ot BBUOK. 87
start and pause, but dashed the more pleasing emotions of the
scene and hour with inward and outward agitation. It was
strange, the effect that voice ever had on Sir Ami.ot, alike when
it found him alone or surrounded by his comrades, though in
the latter case it was always more carefully and painfully sup-
pressed. On most men, indeed, those tones ever thrilled to the
inmost soul, bringing for the moment, even to the rudest sol-
dier, sensation of pity, almost of awe. They seemed something
so unlike the voice of earth, so piercing in their sweetness, even
when their words were choked by tears, that they told their
tale well-nigh before their speaker was perceived. Sir Amiot
ever appeared to start and quiver beneath their spell, as if it
were not alone mere sympathy in the sufferer, but that he him-
self, by some strange magnetic influence, felt the pain, the full
knowledge of which was lost to her.
Nor was the effect this morning less painful than heretofore :
every other thought now became merged in one. He gated
round him hastily and inquiringly, but his vision was bounded
by the intricate windings of his woody path, and though the
voice had sounded clear, and at no great distance, he could
not see the being whom he sought Again he listened, rapt,
entranced, but naught save the voice of Nature at that moment
met his ear.
" Was it a dream, a fancy ?" he thought ; " no, no. Oh, it
came upon my heart too painfully for that. Agnes, mine own
dear Agnes !'
Another moment, and he stood before the object of his
search, and then he suddenly paused, fearing to alarm her.
She was seated on a mossy bank, on a wild spot, varied by
rock and shrub and flower, overlooking a wild glen beneath.
Her wavy hair was uncovered and unconfined ; but it was so
fine, so golden, that it gave no appearance either of wildness
or heaviness to the delicate form and features it shaded ; it did
but enhance the spirit-like effect with which she ever burst
upon the heart and sight. Sir Amiot watched her ere he ven-
tured to approach. The deep blue eye at times rested on the
flowers, at others filed itself on the fleecy clouds floating above
her, with a gaze intent, almost fearful in its love. Then -again,
with the rapid transitions of disordered intellect, Sir Amiot saw
her glance fixed on a bunch of flowers growing on the summit
of a rock near her, and much beyond her reach. Her eye
= y Google
88 THE DATS Of-BMTGB.
sparkled with sudden glee, and she sprung up as to catch them,
but failing, he heard her murmur as a child
" If he were here, good King Robert, he would get them for
his poor Agnes ; there is not a thing she wants he will not
give her, except one, and that he cannot, for he cannot see my
beloved, only I can see htm. 1 would he were here ; those
flowers would charm my beloved to me, or bear me up to him ;
he loved flowers, and he smiles on them still."
She looked wistfully and sadly on them, and Sir Amiot,
well-nigh choked by his emotion, lightly and hastily advanced,
sprung up the crag, gathered, and, kneeling, laid them at her
feet. She caught them with a musical cry of glee, pressed
them to her lips, and then to her bosom, and then looked,
half-wonderingly, half-gayly, on the stranger knight.
"Why do you kneel to me, kind stranger? I have no
smiles and merry jest with which to thank you, as Isoline ; yet
I am not ungrateful. I would weave you a lovely wreath with
them, but that they are promised to another."
"Agnes!" murmured the knight, with the wild hope that
his voice might startle as it had at first, but it did not, for it
was almost inarticulate. " Agnes ! oh, look on me ; am I too
unknown?"
He removed the mask ; he fixed on her the full-speaking
gaze of those large dark eyes ; he caught her dress as to detain
her, and his hand, unconsciously closed in supplication, but he
looked in vain ; her eye wandered over his features, with the
half-shy, half-admiring gaae of a child, but there was no re"cog-
nition in its glance.
" Know thee 1 oh, Agnes does not know any one now but
King Robert and Isoline. I see many goodly forms and noble
knights pass by, and they look kindly, but they are like figures
in a dream ; I think I know them, but I do not ; and thou, too,
sir knight, I only feel thou wert kind to give me these sweet
flowers, and that makes me think I know thee."
" Look on me, look on me !" reiterated the knight, becoming
more and more agitated. "Oh 1 can it be that even to the
voice of one who, for sixteen years, shared the same love, the
same blessing, who knew not a joy apart from thee hath my
voice too faded from thy memory hath it no echo, no memory
of the past?"
"The past!" repeated Agnes; "what mean you by the
Google
THE DAYS OF BECOE.
past? Sometimes I hear men speak of past, of future, but I
know not what they mean. Memory oh, perchance, once I
', but it must be a strange, sad thing ; for when
I weep they wisper that 'tis memory."
"And is it not?" asked her companion, endeavoring to con-
trot emotion go as to follow her wandering thoughts, and turn
them to the wished-for channel ; " wherefore dost thou sorrow
else ?"
"Oh, no; I do not weep for any cause. Sometimes there
comes a sharp, convulsive pain across my brain and heart, and
then when it goes I weep, I know not why ; and then some-
times I see nothing hut such deep, deep darkness, with no
shape, no form, and then beautiful shadows arise before me,
and I try to clasp and love them, but they go, they pass into
the darkness, and then I weep that they are gone."
"And knowest thou those shadows, sweet one lake they
no form ? Wherefore wouldst thou love them ?"
" Because they smile on me ; they come upon my heart and
nestle there, and then my sonl folds her fibres round them,
and tries to hold them, and bleeds and quivers when they go ;
it is strange, for I do not know them I know not why I love
them."
" Have they no voice, no name ?" faltered Sir Amiot.
" Once methought I heard them speak, and then, oh, it was
so strange, I was in another lordly chamber, and they were
round me, and another too, but that could not be, for his
dwelling is in air he was too pure and beautiful for earth
be bent down to love me, and called me to him ; and I feel
sometimes as if he clasped me to his bosom, and pressed his
kisses on my cheek, though the mist is round him and hides
him from me ; and when I would remove that veil, oh, there
is nothing nothing there, he has flown back again to his view-
less borne ; he is sailing again on the fleecy clouds."
Her voice sunk into mournfulness, sweet and thrilling, and
she resumed her seat on the mossy bank, and drew the flowers
round her, and looked a while on them, then up to the blue
heavens, and shook her head, murmuring sadly
" He has gone gone now ; he only comes when Agnes is
alone. Why do you weep, sir knight ? oh, do not weep ; you
should be nappy, for you are kind and good. Why should
you weep ?"
3jl.zo::y GoOgllT
40 THE DAYS OP BKUOX.
" Say but you love me, though you know me not !" buret
from the knight's lips, aa in impassioned agony he buried bis
face in her lap and wept aloud. " Oh, Agnes, Agnes ! the
only being near me who might love me, on whom I might pour
forth all, all the rushing tide of natural love within me to
find thee thus, even by thee unknown unloved. No claim
on thee, naught that can awake that slumbering intellect, and
bid thee love me me, whom in former years thou didst so
love, so chug to ; no joy waa perfect unless I might share it
me, who shared thy infant cradle, thy childhood's mirth, thy
youth's confiding love; who knelt with thee to ask a parents
blessing. Agnes, mine own, my beautiful ! oh, look on me,
know me, love me, an thou wouldst not see me weep." .
" His own, his beautiful," she repeated ; " who speaks such
words to me but one ? and oh, thou art not he." She passed
her hand over his features, lingeringly and touchingly gazing
on them, and murmuring, " Oh, no, thou art not he ; his hair
was richly golden, and thine is black as a raven's wing ; and
his eye was blue, oh, blue as his own native sky, and so
soft, so loving, and thine is black and restless ; he is of heaven,
and thou of earth. Ob, no, I am not thine, sir knight, I am
his, only his."
"But was there none other that loved thee none other
whom thou didst love? Look upon me, sweet one. The
shadows that come before thee, have they no substance apart
from him have they no form, no semblance that mine may
fill ? Oh, speak to me."
"Oh, they are too shadow-like to resemble thee I there is
one, with jetty hair and sparkling eye, hut his cheek is soft
and rosy as a child, and his step as light, his laugh as joyous ;
he has no dream of sorrow, and his voice is full of mirth it
hath no tones of depth and woe and care like thine : oh, no,
they have no likeness upon earth, their land is that of shadows.
Do not weep, sir knight; I would love thee if I could. But
why dost thou ask me ? Ah ! poor Agnes hath no spirit now,
it hath gone up to my own faithful love, and she would follow
it; she hath no home on earth. Why dost thou love- me?"
" I bad a sister once, and she was like to thee," faltered Sir
Amiot, clasping her hands in his, and gazing fearfully in her
face. " Agnes, sweet Agnes, let me love thee for her sake.
Think, hadst thou a brother, how he would love thee."
3jl.zo::y GoOgllT
THE DATS OF BBUCB. 41
"A brother ! Do brothers lore so dearly ? ob, yes, King
Robert loved his. See, see, he smiles upon me ; he scatters
flowers, immortal flowers, to weave the wreath for him. Dost
thou not see ? oh, no, thou canst not, he only comes tongues.
I will go gather fresher leaves, and he will hover nearer then.
Do not follow me, kind stranger ; he smiles through a mist
when any one is by ; he speaks to me when no other voice is
near, and, bark ! he called me, he beckons me. Oh, I will go
my own love, I come, I come !"
Her eyes were again fixed, with the full, earnest, intense
gaze Sir Amiot bad seen before ; they moved as if following
the object which alone they saw, and then she gathered up
her flowers, and sprung lightly to her feet, looked once more
on vacancy, smiled, and, stretching out her arms, darted lightly
from the rocky platform, and disappeared behind some rocks
and brushwood on the opposite side.
Sir Amiot remained where she had left him, prostrate on the
grass, his head leaning on the seat she bad quitted, and buried
in his hands, while the convulsive hearings of his chest told
how deeply and painfully he was moved. There was a slight
rustling among the bushes, a hasty step, but he heard it not,
lost in the unutterable bitterness of grief.
Now it so happened that destiny, fate, or chance, by what-
ever name she chooses to be called, had led the Lady Isoline
a ramble that morning, and tempted her to sit down and rest
on a rock, out of sight, but within hearing of almost all that
had passed between Sir Amiot and Agnes. Almost all, per-
chance, we should not say, because bad it been so, her con-
clusions would certainly have been other than they were ; as it
was, it was precisely those broken words of Sir Amiot which
were the most difficult to be understood that were borne to her
unwilling ear, and held her, despite her every effort to pursue
her ramble, spell-bound where she sat. Sir Amiot spoke of
love, impassioned, fervent love ; he seemed to be alluding to
the past, but how she could not catch, and darker and darker
did the web of mystery close around him. She had heard the
words, " my own, my beautiful," addressed to Agnes, coupled
with a wild appeal that she would know and love him, and
she could bear no more, and with a desperate effort had turned
from the spot, vainly endeavoring to reduce her thoughts to
order. Could it be that in an unhappy, an unreturned affection
1
42 THE DATS OF BSCOS.
for Agnes of Buchan had originated that deep melaneholy
which marked the young knight's demeanor ? that would in-
deed account for his extraordinary agitation at first beholding
her, hi ^anguish at hearing of her affliction, and now that she
was free, might he not, in the wild unreasonableness of passion,
speak to her as she had overheard ? But how, then, did this
agree with the tenor of his oath, the rescue of one dearer than
life itself; how could she connect the two? Thought sprung
from thought, till her mind became more painfully bewildered
than before.
" Am I not a fool, worse than fool, tormenting myself thus ?"
she said, unconsciously thinking aloud. " What is it, what
can it be to me ? Why am I sunk so low as to think thus of
one who evidently shuns me, fearing, perchance, my favor should
bid him forget former and dearer ties ?" And then would
she recall the wishes of her uncle the king, that she should
favor the suit of Douglas. " Learn to know my gallant
soldier," he had said to her, " and thou wilt learn to love him.
I tell thee, Isoline, next to the freedom of my country, the lib-
eration of my wife and child, there is naught I so desire as to
call James of Douglas by a yet nearer and dearer name than
friend ; reward him as his high merits demand, I could not, did
I give him half my kingdom. I would, indeed, it were my
daughter that he loved, for even her I would bestow upon him.
Then thou who art in truth my daughter in love, as if thou
wert in blood, think on the joy it would be to me to confer the
happiness he so richly merits by the gift of thee. Do not be-
lieve love only springs to life in a flash ; there is that which
riseth slowly through the folds of esteem, and may in some de-
gree he tutored into being. Learn to love the Douglas, my
gentle Isoline, and not alone on him wilt thou confer a jewel of
imperishable price, but on thine uncle Robert happiness with-
out alloy." And the wishes of the king were echoed in the
hearts of her parents, Sir Niel and Lady Campbell ; yet had
she loved the Douglas, scarcely would the interview of Sir
Amiot and Agnes have occasioned her so much pain.
But we may not linger on the thoughts or feelings of Isoline ;
bitter and most painful as they were to her, to our readers, in
truth, they would be indefinable. Suffice it, that though
wholly unable to reconcile Sir Amiot'a manner to herself with
the words she had overheard him use to Agnes, she resolved
THE DATS OF BRUCE. 43
on never permitting herself to waver in the belief that he was
either actually betrothed, or that his affections were irrevoca-
bly engaged, and that in consequence ahe herself was perfectly
safe, and might talk with him or accept his services just as se-
curely as she could with the Earl of Lennox or Lord Hay.
She believed herself to be clothed in the invulnerable armor
of indomitable pride, which would no more dream of loving,
where there was no love to be had in return, than of loving at
the command of another.
No alteration, therefore, took place in her manner, either to
Sir Amiot, his companions, or Lord Douglas, whose devotion
was so sincere, so respectful, yet so un obtruding, that she could
find no excuse whatever to banish him from her side ; and there
were times, when the restless fancies of her ever-active mind
oppressed her almost to pain, she almost wished she could give
Douglas the love he desired, and in that feeling find mental rest
CHAPTER IV.
Time passed swiftly and brilliantly for the patriots of Scot-
land, who beheld, at the close of every month, unanswer-
able signs of their all- conquering arms. Castle after castle
fell before the king or his leaders ; nay, untaught, undisci-
plined countrymen, inspired by the same spirit, turned their
pruning -hooks into spears, and marching forth on the same
errand, unostentatiously yet ably aided Bruce, by subjugating
and delivering into his hands the strong castle of Linlithgow
and some others. Roxburgh fell before the skill and prowess
of Douglas, whose exploit* rather increased than lost in bril-
liancy with every passing year. There was a spirit of love and
hope within him, unconsciously infusing his whole being. Lat-
terly, in the brief intervals which his constant absence from
court permitted him to spend with the object of his affections,
her manner had appeared to him gentler, kinder ; he could not
indeed have defined wherefore or why it so seemed, for if he
ever ventured to breathe the subject nearest his heart, her
words bore the same tendency they ever did, never verging in
the smallest degree on encouragement, nay, quite the contrary,
and yet, strange constancy, Lord Douglas hoped still. That
D.gtizocay GoOQle
44 THE DATS OP BRUCE.
she could love another never entered his wildest dreams ; in
truth, whom could she lore ? He knew her well enough to
feel assured not one of the gay flatterers around her possessed
sufficient attraction to satisfy that heart. Once he might have
feared Sir Amiot, but lately even that fear had departed : they
were very seldom together, for like himself, that knight s
known and valued prowess seldom permitted his remaining
idle in Kiug Robert's court. Douglas was as lowly-minded as
he was brave ; but he was not blind to his own merits, to his
own superiority to many of his companions, and therefore it was
not much marvel, believing the Lady Isoline's affections still
free, he should hope in time to gain them.
The end of the year 1312 beheld every Scottish fortress in
the hands of King Robert, except two, Edinburgh and Stirling.
For the reduction of the former, the king dispatched his nephew
Randolph, with a picked band, hoping much from his known
skill and bravery, yet scarcely daring to anticipate Buccess from
the impregnable fastnesses of nature on which the castle stood.
Douglas was at that time engaged in the neighborhood of Rox-
burgh, whose fortress he had just reduced ; other of the Rruce's
leaders were scattered in various parts of Scotland, and the
king himself, for the time being, held his court at Dumbarton,
and there, with Lady Campbell and her daughter, was the af-
flicted Agnes, for, as we have noticed, she never now was with-
out increased unhappiness when absent from King Robert's
side. Wherever his rapid movements and continued suc-
cesses called him, there -did she find her home, and there her
chief delight ; and now at Dumbarton, as in the beautiful vi-
cinity of Perth, her sweet voice had lost itself in song, her
fair hands bad wreathed fresh garlands for her love. Sent
thither with dispatches by Randolph, Sir Amiot, on his arrival,
was somewhat surprised to perceive the air of disquiet and
confusion which appeared to reign among the domestics and
soldiery scattered about the outer courts of the castle. To
all his inquiries, he could only glean that the English had been
in the neighborhood, committing ravages, making some pris-
oners, and the king himself had gone forth to follow and chas-
tise them.
Without reply. Sir Amiot, closely followed by his page,
hastened on, crossing the inner ana outer ballium, over the
drawbridge, and was in the act of dismounting, when, cloaked
^tiz^y Google
THE DATS OF BBTJOE. 45
and veiled, attended by some followers, aa if returning from
beyond the castle walls, tlie Lady Isoline Campbell hastily ad-
vanced, as about to enter within the massy gates. The young
knight sprang from his steed in an instant, and was at her Bide,
with a greeting unusually eager, as if the delight of thus
meeting her had startled him from bis usual reserve. She
was evidently surprised, but neither the surprise nor the anx-
ious thought which evidently engrossed her caused her to for-
get the dignified composure which had lately characterized her
"His grace is well, and will be glad to see you, Sir Amiot,"
she said, in answer to his interrogatory ; " for of a truth he is
aggrieved and anxious in no common degree."
" What, then, has chanced ? The English "
" Agnes, our afflicted Agnes, in wandering, as is her wont,
has fallen into their power, and the king has followed, hoping
to track their course. You are ill, sir knight."
She had not moved ber eye from him as she spoke, but even
without that penetrating glance, his emotion must have made
itself evident ; he staggered back as if a dagger's point had
reached him, repeating as if to himself
"Agnes God in heaven! Agnes, Bayest thou? The vil-
lains, the merciless villains ! could not her innocence, her afflic-
tion, have saved her from them ? Which way went they 1 in
mercy tell me, lady 1 Pardon me," he added, struggling to
regain composure; " I have startled, alarmed you ; but you
know not, you cannot know the anguish of this sudden new;.
She must not, she shall not be left in their hands ; she will
droop, she will die. And I how can I save her ?"
His voice grew more and more agitated. Isoline would
have spoken words of soothing, but the first word betrayed to
her own ear such an utter change in her voice, she dared not
trust it further. Sir Amiot's page alone appeared uncon-
" My lord, my lord, you have ridden too hard, and are fa-
tigued, or this news would not so unnerve you," he expostu-
lated. " Trust me, the Lady Agnes will speedily be liberated,
wherever she may be ; there's not a hiding-nook of Scotland
I do not know. Pray you, my lord, wait but till his grace
returns."
" The boy speaks wisely, Sir Amiot.; abide by bis counsel,"
46 THE DATS OF BRUCE.
said Isoline, composedly, for the huskiness of voice, whatever
might have been its cause, had passed. " Pray you pass in ;
rest thee till the king returns, perchance he may bring us bet-
ter cheer."
One glance the knight fixed on the lady ; it might have been
grateful acknowledgment for ber kindly words, it might have
been something more, but certainly at this moment it was
wholly incomprehensible to her on whom it rested, and conse-
quently elicited no reply. Bowing his head in silent assent,
he followed her within the castle to the apartments of the Earl
of Lennox, hearing by the way a brief detail from Isoline of
the disappearance of Agnes. She had been wandering, as she
always loved to do, in the wildest, most rocky and woody giens
in the vicinity of the castle. Not being aware that some bands
of English plunderers were hovering about the country, and
conscious of the annoyance it always was to her to be sensible
that a guard attended her. King Robert bad desired the trusty
followers who had her in charge to keep at a distance, and not
annoy her by showing themselves unnecessarily. Amidst the
rocks and woods around the castle it was difficult to obey this
charge, and so silently and suddenly had she been captured,
that nothing but a faint, and, at the moment, unnoticed cry
had betrayed the truth. They had sought her in every direc-
tion, and the failure of their search had alone recalled that cry,
and forced the truth on their minds. The king, half-distracted
as to the probable effect of imprisonment and ill treatment on
the afflicted Agnes, had himself headed a gallant band by
daybreak that morning, determined on leaving no spot un-
sought, though, from the innumerable caves and hollows close
at hand, Isoline feared, with little chance of success. She
herself, unable to remain quietly under the influence of anxiety,
had called her personal followers around her, and searched in
all the favorite haunts of Agnes, with the vain hope to find
some clue to her fate.
" And blessings on thee for the kind thought and kinder
deed, sweet lady I" Sir Amiot had murmured as she thus spoke.
" My poor Agnes cannot thank thee for thy love, but I, oh,
would that I "
He paused abruptly, conscious that in that moment of ex-
citement he was not master of his words, and the solemn vow
of years might be insensibly betrayed. The tramping of many
DKjtizocay G00gle
THE DAYS OF BKUOE. 47
chargers on the drawbridge, the Bound of the Brace's clarion
at that moment announced the return of the king, and broke
the pause of emotion which closed Sir Amiot's broken words.
Isoline darted to n window overlooking the court, with the
exclamation
" She may be with them !" too quickly changing into
"Alas! no."
The speedy entrance of King Robert and his followers pre-
vented all suggestion, and quickly gave the information required.
Successful it was evident they had not been ; but from the
English prisoners they had captured, they learned sure tidings,
which, painful as they were, were better than suspense. Agnes
was the captive of a marauding band, who, believing her a
person of some consequence, badT resolved on conveying ber to
one of the border towers to demand a heavy ransom ; but in
which direction the captives could or would not tell. King
Robert had returned, determined on collecting his light-armed
troops, and marching southward without delay. Sir Amiot's
inclination ted him to beseech permission to accompany bis
sovereign, instead of returning to his post in the camp of Ran-
dolph ; but the latter was a station of so much more danger
and honor than the former, that, though the effort was a violent
one, he controlled himself, and gave no evidence of desiring
other employment than that with which he was charged.
Another imperative reason urged this resolution. As his mys-
terious agitation calmed, he became aware that any such violent
demonstration of anxiety as to the fate of Agnes was exposing
him very naturally to remarks which he could not answer,
drawing upon him yet further notice, and perchance, exposing
him to suspicions which were far better averted than encouraged.
He was thankful that it had been from the lips of Isoline the
startling intelligence had been first received. He little dreamed
the effect of his emotion upon her. Calmly, then, and seem-
ingly evincing no more interest in the present subject than the
otber leaders, he listened to the reports they brought ; true
his heart throbbed with sickening anxiety, for much as she was
loved and pitied in all King Robert's camp and court, none,
not even the king himself, felt for her as Amiot. Calmly he
presented his dispatches, held a long, private conference with
the king, received his commands, and as calmly took his leave,
resting a few hours, and starting at the earliest dawn once
D^cay G00gle
48 THE DAYS OF BBTJOE.
more for Edinburgh. He wished much for one parting look,
one parting word from the Lady Isoline, if it were but to repeat
his thanks for the tenderness she ever evinced for Agnes, and
to beseech her for some message of relief if tbe afflicted were
indeed restored.
" Yet wherefore," he internally said, as with a sad and heavy
heart he rode on some yards ahead of his followers, " wherefore
thus speak, when to her, as to all others, my sympathy in my
poor Agnes must remain secret as the grave? why do I so
continually forget that .she knows no more of me and mine than
others ? Alas ! it is my wish that speaks and not my reason.
Even were all of mystery removed, might I but step forward
in my own person, my own name, how dare I hope? Would
the Bruce consent to her union with one of a traitor race,
mingle his pure blood with the black, discolored stream that
runs through me would even my mother's merits, her truth,
her loyalty, her worth, weigh in such a cause ? Alas, alas I
better to die, die as my country's soldier, than live as now,
nameless, birthless, or if name and birth revealed, both, both
a traitor's ; revealed, perchance but to be mistrusted by the
king, who loves me now ; shunned by her, at whose faintest
glance my heart springs up, as if it knew not life save then
can it be otherwise? What is one arm, one heart, amid a race
of a thousand traitors? Will Robert trust one as true, amidst
a thousand false ? Oh, better to die unknown better to die,
when, as his gallant soldier, he may weep for me ! Why has
not death found me ? I have not shunned it." Darker and
darker, for a brief interval, grew his thoughts, but then there
came a sudden flash upon them, dispersing their turbid stream ;
he lifted his head, which had sunk upon his breast he sud-
denly clasped his hands, in the enthusiasm of that moment's
thought, and murmured, " No, no, I may not wish to die toll
that I seek is done. Mother, beloved, revered, pardon thy son,
that for one brief moment thou wert forgotten, the voice of thy
wrongs unheard. For thee, thee alone, I live. I will not shun
this wretchedness till thou art free, and then, then if indeed
the misery I dream of be mine own I can but die my fate
will be accomplished ; but now, now, but one thought must
nerve, one hope encourage. Mother, thou shah be free !"
He gave bis horse the spur, as if indeed the goal he sought
were near, and ere his thoughts returned to a calmer channel
^tiz^y Google
THE DAYB OF BBUCE. 49
his page Malcolm urged his steed up to his master's side.
The devotion this boy bore to the person of Sir Amiot was
something remarkable. He was a sharp, clever lad, in reality
of some sixteen or seventeen years, but appearing rather
younger ; his agility and address we have already seen in a
former page (for it is an old acquaintance we have here intro-
duced to the reader), as shown in his devotion to the Countess
of Bucban and her son, in enabling the king to rescue the
former, and then bearing him intelligence of her second cap-
ture. From that time till a few months after Sir Amiot's join-
ing the Bruce he had been like a wandering spirit over Scot-
land, at one time with the king and his followers in Rat hi in
another, in the court of Angus of the Isles, then in the v
midst of the English camp, and repeatedly, when the Bruce
turned to Scotland, did the intelligence his wanderings had
gathered materially assist the councils and movements of the
patriots, until at last hb intelligence and alacrity became so
remarkable, that many wished to own him as their page or fol-
lower, an honor, however, the boy invariably refused, preferring,
it appeared, his liberty to the constant service even of the king.
It was on returning to the camp, after one of his accustomed
wanderings, he discovered that a new cavalier had joined the
king, and his curiosity was instantly attracted ; whether he had
found means to gratify it no one could discover, but certain it
was the influence of Sir Amiot had acted on him like a spell,
and from that hour his fidelity and devotion to the stranger
knight became remarkable. He bad as usual quitted the
regular line of march, and had been, to the great amusement
of some of bis younger comrades, and to the discomposure of
the older and stricter disciplinarians, curvetting and prancing
round and round, often disappearing, as be said, to examine
every brake and hollow that they passed, and rejoining the
troop when least expected. Many marvelled that Sir Amiot
could brook this laxity of order and respect in his personal fol-
lower, but his freaks always passed unnoticed, and were gen-
erally more productive of good than ill. He now rode up close
to his master, saying, as he did so, " Please yon, my lord, me-
thinks his grace were better following our track than marching
southward ; if it please you to put yourself under my guidince,
you may be the first to rescue the Lady Agnes yet. '
"How! what?" exclaimed Sir Amiot, fairly startled out of
, if- ?
50 THE DATS OF BEOOK.
every other thought ; "what mean you there is no trace of
such ft band ?"
" No ; such kind of villains love not the open road, as your
lordship knows, but there are brakes and hollows enough to our
left to harbor double their number. Will you risk it, good my
lord ? I dare not promise entire success, but even if we fail, it
will be but the loss of an hour or two, which Lord Randolph
will pardon when he knows the cause, and should we succeed,
King Robert will give us absolution. Those English knaves
told false ; their course lies towards Edinburgh, Utile dreaming
how it is beleaguered."
There was an earnestness about the boy that would have
satisfied his master, even had he not been conscious that Mal-
colm very seldom spoke from bare suggestion. Sir Amiot
therefore made no hesitation in altering his line of march, and
iilungtng into the wild desolate country to which Malcolm al-
uded. Much surprise the resolution occasioned amongst his
men, and some discomposure, which latter feeling became very
greatly heightened, as hour after hour passed and there was no
sign whatever to reward their toilsome progress ; even Sir
Amiot's patience began to fail, and he somewhat sharply up-
braided his page for wiling him on i fool's errand. Malcolm
evinced neither anger nor sullenness, but simply observed he
had not promised success. Bat the boy knew well enough he
had not reckoned without his host ; about an hour before sun-
set they reached a level, unencumbered by wood or rock, and
pushing forwards, a band of some fifty or sixty men were dis-
tinctly visible, though evidently at full a mile's distance from
them ; they were closely wrapped in the dark green cloaks pe-
culiar to the marauder of glen and wood, carried no banner,
and kept in a close, compact body, though riding at full
speed.
' "By St. Andrew, thou hast spoken rightly, Malcolm. For-
ward, in heaven's name !"
" Keep them in sight, keep them in sight, that is all we can
do !" shouted Malcolm, as every man spurred on ; " overtake
them here we cannot, it is an open road to Edinburgh. I hoped
to have come upon them in dell and dingle, when we would
have given them a taste of Scottish steel, but here it is im-
possible ; only mark where they go."
Sir Amiot heard his words, but his ardent spirit could noj
THE DAYS OF BBUCE. 61
feel the chase impossible. Their hones had been refreshed by
above an hour's rest, at intervals, in the woods through which
they had passed; a detention against which Malcolm loudly
protested, declaring the slow pace the; had been compelled to
proceed prevented all fatigue, but the men had grumbled, and
Sir Araiot's interference in their favor had alone prevented open
strife, though he now perceived the cause of Malcolm's great
desire to avoid unnecessary delay, and felt provoked for having
yielded perhaps more than was needed to his followers. Re-
gret was now vain, and on they went, urging their steeds to the
utmost speed, but gaining little on the pursued, who, evidently
conscious of their vicinity, flew rather than galloped over the
smooth road. The castle of Edinburgh appeared in sight,
hailed by both pursuers and pursued. Although the chase led
the former some distance from the side where Lord Randolph
lay, and eiposed them to danger from the castle, neither Sir
Amiot, nor his men cast one thought on this ; nearer and
nearer they approached the English, near enough to distinguish
the white robes of a female, whom their hearts told them was
the Lady Agnes, seated in front of one who seemed the leader,
a tall, strong man, mounted on a powerful horse. This sight
urged them to yet stronger efforts ; they rushed on, they flew
over the intervening space ; they struggled up the steep ascent ;
foam covered their gallant steeds, their limbs reeked and trem-
bled under them, but, obedient to the voice and hand of their
masters, they relaxed nerve nor muscle on then- way. Nearer,
yet nearer, within hail, spear in rest, Sir Amiot dashed forward,
his lance rung against the armor of the hindmost ; shouting his
war-cry, he pressed forwards, dealing his blows on every side,
but seeking only the centre charger, which bore the form of
Agnes ; ere he reached it, ere his men could form around him,
his opponents had passed the postern, bearing him in the rush
along with them ; the massy gates closed, the portcullis fell,
and Sir Amiot was struggling alone amongst a hundred foes,
divided by iron jrates and impregnable walls from his followers,
who reached the level space beside the postem just in time to
see it close, and their lord a captive.
Baffled, stung to the quick by the bitter consciousness of his
own imprudence, the Knight of the Branch struggled furiously
amongst his captors : nor did his sword drop, his strength fail
until he stood beside the drooping form of Agnes, his arm
62 THE DAT8 OT BRUCE.
twined around her. There was a light in her dark blue eyes, a
hectic flush on her fair cheek, but she gave no other sign either
of sorrow or of fear. She had looked up in the knight s face a
moment in inquiring surprise, and seeming to recognize the
brilliant flash of his large dark eye, and he heard her murmur
" How came he here was it to seek me? but why should
he care so much for me? Do not fear, sir knight, they will
not, they dare not barm either thee or me. My love is near,
though I cannot see him now, and he will save us both, both,
for thou art kind to Agnes !"
" Hear me !" exclaimed Sir Aroiot, passionately, as, despite
every effort of his captors to divide them, he still retained his
hold of Agnes. " Hear me, I speak to ye as men, as knights
and soldiers, not as the robber hand I believed ye ! Ye know
not the affliction of this poor innocent, or surely, surely ye
would not have selected her for prey. The miseries your mon-
arch, the late Edward, inflicted on her and one dearer than her
life, bath maddened her robbed the mind of its precious jewel,
and left but this lovely wreck ; her only sense of enjoyment is
in freedom, unwatohed, untended freedom. She can do harm
or good to none ; let her go free ; if ye have but one gentle
feeling in your hearts, I implore ye let her go free. Do with
me as ye list, but for this poor helpless innocent have mercy t
what would ye with her?"
" Ransom, a goodly ransom," answered he who seemed their
leader, biking off his helmet, and displaying the features of Sir
Magnus Redman, an Anglo-Irish knight, noted for his ferocity
and avarice. " Thinks your wisdom we have nothing to do
but to take captives and let them go? Thou hast a child's
fancy, though a fertile one, sir knight ; thou hast coined a pret-
ty sounding tale in a marvellously short time ; how know we
its truth ? The maiden hus given no evidwee of madness ; aye,
hath comported herself more submissively and wisely than most
of her sex in such cases."
" Look on her 1" passionately interrupted Sir Amiot. *' Are
ye so dulled in sense and sight, as not to read in this sweet, sad
face the pitiable truth ? Is there aught there save the helpless
innocence of affliction ? Send her to Lord Randolph's camp,
and I swear to thee, by the true honor of a knight and soldier,
I will rest me your prisoner till her ransom and mine are both
told down, till every claim hath been satisfied ; give her free-
THB DATS OF BllTTCK. 68
dom, and trust me, King Robert will be no niggard of his
gold."
"Ha! holds he her safety at so high a rate? You have
overreached yourself, most sapient sir; an he would so reward
us did we give her freedom, what will he not give to purchase
that freedom ? We are no chickens to be caught by fair
words ; she rests within stone walls till her friends choose to
send a good round sum for her liberation. Meanwhile, your
cavalier errant called king may amuse himself in seeking her
through the borders ; an he deem her worthy such a stir, we
shall but know her value, and demand accordingly. Ha ! ha t
it were worth some risk to see him scour the borders in search
of a bird caged up so blithely here, where his arms can never
reach her."
" Villain !" exclaimed Sir Amiot, forgetting all personal dan-
ger in his strong indignation. " Brag on as thou wilt, there
were sufficient with me to give Ring Robert note of this poor
maiden's fate ere he could reach the border. There thou art
foiled, base miscreant ! and for this castle, lay not such stress
on its strong walls, it will full yet, and we shall be free, no
thanks to thee or thine. Cheer up, sweet one !" he added to
Agnes ; " 'tis but confinement for a brief, brief while the
king will save his Agnes. But wherefore bandy words with
such as thee !" he suddenly continued, as he felt Agnes cling
closer to him, shrinking from the rude forms who now sur-
rounded them. " Me thought Sir Geoffrey de Harcourt was
commander here. I demand speech with him ; as knight to
knight, and gentle to gentle, he will grant me patient hearing.
Back, I say ! an be have command here, ye must acknowledge
his supremacy."
" Sir Geoffrey de Harcourt is a wiser man than your wisdom
deems him ; we pay good price for our will in the castle of Ed-
inburgh, and he knows his own interests better than to inter-
fere with Magnus Redman and his prisoners. But a truce with
this idle parley part them, I say !"
On the instant it was done. No word or sound escaped the
lips of Agnes, as her convulsive, though almost unconscious
grasp of Sir Amiot was rudely unloosed. He saw her eyes fix
themselves on vacancy, with the wild intense gaze he knew so
well, but the object they seemed to search evidently eluded
them ; a dark shade passed over her countenance, a quick
54 THK DAYS OF BBUCK.
shuddering through every limb, and he saw her head droop on
the shoulder of her conductor, as if all sense were a while sus-
pended. He struggled to spring towards her, but his purpose
was frustrated.
"Away with him to the strong tower on the southern wall I"
shouted Sir Magnus ; and they bore him off with a velocity
as almost to prevent his tracing the path they took. They
traversed courts, passed many bands of soldiery, who were all
too much accustomed to Sir Magnus Redman's predatory ex-
peditions to make any remark ; and at length they halted at
the entrance of a low square tower, formed of massive stone,
overlooking the southern wall and the precipitous crags which
it commanded, and conducted the captive knight up several
steep flights of stairs to a small chamber, the only window of
which, though it commanded a view beneath, was strongly
barricaded by cross-barred stancheons of iron. The door, too,
was thickly studded with iron nails, locked and double-locked
upon him, and the walls of cold, bare stone permitted not the
faintest hope of escape.
Sir Amiot could not but feel he had been imprudent in press-
ing the chase so closely. Now that his mood was cooler, he
felt it would have been much wiser to have remained contented
with knowing exactly where the Lady Agnes was, and setting
his best energies to work, to urge Randolph to push on the
siege. He trusted much to the wit and intelligence of his page
to give Sir Thomas all the information that was needed, not
alone as to his fate, but as to all the causes of his detention
and the king's great anxiety for the release of Agnes. Would
they think of dispatching a messenger on the instant to Dum-
barton, to stay, if possible, the march of the king, was a ques-
tion returning again and again to his mind, and he paced the
narrow precincts of his prison in all the nervous irritability
which ever attends the longing desire for rapid movement,
when its importance is known, and we ourselves are utterly
unable to forward it. The very darkness seemed to chafe him,
he wanted to see if the movements of the besieging army were
visible from his loophole, and what part of the castle it com-
manded ; he heard nothing that betrayed the vicinity of many
soldiers ; even the sentinel's tread appeared at some distance
and irregular, as if that particular spot were less strongly
guarded than the others. He looked eagerly forth, but there
THE DAYS OF BKUCK. 55
was no moon, and lie saw nothing but darkne&s. Then he tried
to compose himself by thinking of Agnes, but there was no
composure for him there. He pictured her sufferings in soli-
tary confinement, or under the wardance of harsh Hud strange
guardians, till he almost shuddered, for liberty was no common
joy to her, it was actually her life, her being now ; her mad-
ness lost its sting, her paroxysms of anguish were less and leva
frequent the more perfect freedom she enjoyed ; and so fragile
seemed the link between the mortal shell and life, that he knew
not what irreparable injury imprisonment and harshness might
produce. Then, to escape the anxiety of such thoughts, he
tried to turn them in another channel, over which the form of
the Lady Isoline hovered like a bright radiant star, which
ought certainly to have shed light and nope, but somehow even
that light was faint and flickering, and often lost altogether
beneath heavy masses of black clouds that would float over
his horizon, and yet, if the truth must be told, the knight's
thoughts lingered there still more powerfully, more constantly
than elsewhere ; he would have despaired, simply from his
goneness to the desponding and the sad, as he had no hope,
owever, if he had no hope, memory was kind, for she recall-
ed in that darkness every look and word and varying tone of
Isoline so vividly, he more than once felt himself entranced, not
even needing the aid of sleep to give them voice and substance ;
nay, he would rather have shunned sleep, lest it should break
the spell and so passed the night.
The morning gave Sir Araiot the information he desired.
Within twenty yards of the tower rose the wall, which, some-
what to his surprise, was there not above twice a man's height.
Looking further, it was easy to perceive that the excessive
steepness and extraordinary shape and position of the rock at
that point had occasioned this, the architect of the castle be-
lieving, with some appearance of justice, that crags themselves
were sufficient defence, being wholly inaccessible ; crags and
cliffs jutted out from the main rock on every side ; the foun-
dations of the walls themselves appeared scarcely to allow
Bpace for a scaling-ladder, shelving down in some parts to a
complete precipice, at others, varied by protruding rocks. A
single sentinel was there on guard ; his march, however, taking
a contrary direction to that which Sir Amiot's loophole over-
looked. Situated comerwise, he only saw the wall and crags,
66 THE DAYS OF BBUCE.
& circumstance occasioning; some regret, as he almost fancied
the Scottish army might be visible to the sentinel from the top
of the wall, though concealed from him.
With the strong feeling of a soldier within him, learned in
all military tactics, he could not but admire the impregnable
situation of the fortress, and the desire to see it in King
Robert's possession became stronger than ever, though its im-
pregnability seemed to whisper how vain was that desire.
Still he almost hoped the confinement of the Lady Agnes, and
King Robert's earnest desire to obtain her freedom, would
urge Randolph to more decided measures than he had yet
adopted. It was only by the conquest of the castle he could
look to obtaining his individual liberty, for the ransom which
he knew his avaricious captor would demand was otterly out
of his power to pay, and he saw before him nothing but the
dim, shapeless vista of lingering imprisonment, entirely pre-
venting the fulfilment of his vow, while his companions would
be gathering fresh laurels, and perhaps the liberation he so
earnestly desired to effect by his own right hand, would be-
come the glory of another, and his present doom remain un-
changed. Isoline, too, how might he find her, if years passed
ere he was free? the wife of Douglas; and though, as we
have seen in a former page, he had no hope, or fancied he
had none, that she could ever become his, the idea of meeting
her as the wife of another was fraught with such intolerable
suffering, that his imprisonment and inactivity became doubly
hateful. Even the king, he thought, would forget him after
a few years forget his very existence; how could he, with
so many gallant officers round him, so many calls upon his
head and heart, retain a kindly recollection of all who fell or
were imprisoned in his cause ? Now these multifarious cogi-
tations were any thing but agreeable, particularly as Sir Amiot
chanced to be one of that curious class denominated self-tor-
mentors, ever looking to the dark rather than the sunny side
of life. In truth, perchance he had more cause for these fan-
cies than roost of his class, for he was peculiarly and mourn-
fully situated, and the long weary hours of his captivity per-
mitted no cheering prospect. He tried to find amusement hi
polishing his armor already polished as high as art could
make it but that was but a sad resource. He tried to fancy
how a party of daring adventurers might scale the crags just
THK DAYS Or BKUCK. 57
at that point and mount the wall, and then smiled at the fer-
tility of his imagination, picturing things sober reason felt im-
possible. The second night of his captivity was partially illu-
minated by a young moon, whose lights and shadows, playing
fantastically on the rocks, excited even his admiring attention.
The third night was pitchy dark, neither moon nor star for
several hours being visible. Still Sir Amiot remained by his
loophole, as if the darkness presented objects either to his
bodily or mental eye, preferable to the hard couch and fevered
sleep which was his only alternative with this sorrowful vigil.
There was a sensation at his heart very like the prognostics of
,a thunder-storm, a sort of feverish excitement, likely enough
to follow the morbid streams of unchecked thought, when
indulged in for any length, and unrelieved by words. The
cool, March breeze that fanned his cheek through the open
spaces of his loophole, however, gave no evidence of thunder
lingering in the air, and Sir Amiot remained at his post, looking
ont on the darkness, till his excited fancy almost made him believe
he could distinguish objects, moving masses of darkness round
and about the jutting cliffs. There was no sound, not a breath
to disturb the perfect stillness, except when, now and then,
a fresh breeze swept by, bearing some of the heavy clouds
along with it, and making the deep gloom a degree less obscure.
By the length of time since the Bet of sun, Sir Amiot im-
agined it must be fast approaching midnight, still he felt no
inclination whatever for repose, and remained at his post. If
these black, moving shapes were the mere delusions of fancy,
their constancy was something remarkable, for however the
knight shook himself, rubbed his eyes, nay, even took a turn
in bis cell, to assure himself he was awake not dreaming, still
tbey were visible. If disappearing, which they often did for
some minutes, he traced them again in a different part of the
crag, gradually floating for no other word can give an idea
of their motion, at least as it appeared to Sir Amiot nearer
the foundation of the wall. Shape and substance indeed be
could not give them, for he could only have described them as
smalt, detached masses of black cloud hovering around and
about the cliff. Had any one suggested the idea of human
beings, he would have declared it impossible; for, in the first
place, they had not the smallest semblance of humanity,
though that might have been but the treachery of night ; and
58 Till: HAYS OF BBtTCE.
the nest and more convincing, no human foot could possibly
Bud resting up those crags. That the sentinel either did nut
see this strange appearance, or if he did, thought nothing of
it, at first surprised our hero, and somewhat disagreeably
heightened the feeling of superstitious awe he felt, much lo
his annoyance, creeping over him ; but then he remembered
that the sentinel's post and line of march did not look in the
same direction as his loophole, and so perhaps he really could
not see them. More th;in once he felt almost tempted to shout
aloud to the man, and inquire if he saw any thing remarkable
about the cliffs, but checked the wish as cowardly folly. They
appeared to dive in and out the crags like passing shadows,
but there was no light in the heavens to occasion them ; and,
after some time, Sir Amiot thought he had succeeded in making
himself believe they were in fact nothing hut illusion, occa-
sioned by the darkness around seeming less opaque against
the white cliffs. Just as he thought of retiring, satisfied with
this belief, rendered stronger by their having disappeared for
a much longer interval than usual, they again became visible,
and much nearer the wall, though still presenting nothing to
his strained gaze but moving darkness. At this instant the
steps of the guard resounded close under Sir Amiot's tower,
as they marched on to relieve the sentinel, and see that all was
right, and at the same instant, beneath his very eye, those
mysterious shapes had vanished into their parent darkness, he
believed, for he could not distinguish the faintest trace.
Wrought up to a Btate of almost painful excitement, the steps
of the guard absolutely jarred upon his nerves, and he started
with undefined terror as he heard a heavy stone thrown from
the wall, roll noisily from crag to crag till it reached the preci-
pice, and fell to the ground, followed by the voice of the sen-
tinel, exclaiming
" Ha ! ha ! keep close, I see you well 1"
Sir Amiot's very respiration seemed impeded as he listened
for what might follow, but nothing came, save the joyous laugh
of the soldiers, betraying their consciousness of their comrade's
jest, and bidding him time it better on another occasion ; then
followed the sentinel's assertion he had frightened them, how-
ever they might deny it, a merry dispute, and the steps passed
on, and all again was silence, deep, soundless as the grave.
Again the knight looked forth, but for some time, to his fevered
TUB DAYS OF BRUCE-. 59
fancy it seemed full half an hour, he looked in vain ; and then
again, one by one, seeming to glide from behind the crags,
those shapes appeared; cautiously, silently they glided nearer;
lie lost them behind the wall, but not for long, one by one, he
saw them stand upon the wall, one, two, and three, and shape-
less they were no longer; was it fancy or reality surely, they
bore the forms of men, and one, the first who ascended, could
it be, as Sir Amiot's wild imagination pictured, the peculiarly
light, bounding form of his own page ? He dared not utter a
sound ; fascinated, entranced as by some spell, his eyes moved
not, he breathed thickly and painfully ; he counted thirty of
those strange shapes ascend, pause a moment on the wall, and
descend within it, how, he could not distinguish ; they passed
beneath his prison so silently, so gliding] y, even yet the idea of
supernatural visitants remained uppermost, and chilled his very
heart's blood, even while it strove to bound up at the thought
of liberty. One shape alone remained on the wall, it flew past,
disappeared, then came the sound of a br'ef struggle to his ear,
a stifled, quivering cry of death, a heavy plunge, and then again
all was silent. He listened intently, almost phrensied by the wild
desire to unfold the mysteries of that darkness and silence, to
burst his bonds, to join that gallant band, for if they were mor-
tal men, he knew well their purpose. Still there was no sound ;
every minute felt an hour. Sir Araiot knew not how short a
space had, in fact, rolled by since they had disappeared. Was
it fancy, or was that silence becoming peopled by distant sounds,
waxing louder and more loud, nearer and more near? A. mo-
ment's indecision, and the next Sir Amiot bounded from his
prison-floor, and clasped his hands in ecstasy. " It is it is !"
he shouted. " Brave, glorious Randolph, this is your work !
Oh, why can I not join ye ? Why am I inclosed caged ? Is
there no means of liberty?" and he shook the iron door with
violence, but in vain. Every shout that burst upon his ear
thrilled through him, as if he too bad joined the strife. Wild
was the uproar, stunning the din that, breaking the previous
stillness, reached even his distant tower, and told of the work
without. A thousand torches seemed to flash up through the
thick darkness ; cries for mercy, shouts of triumph came strange-
ly mingled on his ear; clashing steel, confused sounds as of the
very brunt of war, came so close upon him, he felt the strife
was carried on beneath his very walls ; then came louder and
60 THE DATS OF BHCCK.
fuller shouts of triumph ; he felt, as by instinct, the gates had
been flung open by that secret band, and free entrance given to
the awaiting army. It could not have been an hour from the
commencement of the strife, when, even in the midst of the din
without. Sir Amiot's quick ear discerned nearer sounds, hasty,
eager steps bounding up the turret-stair; his heart throbbed
violently. Was it liberation, or his vindictive captor armed with
death ? The one, he knew, was as likely ait the other ; and
who may tell the emotion of that moment? There was the
sound of heavy bars removed, hastened evidently by the strokes
of a heavy mallet ; then came the clash of keys, a suppressed
oath, when three or four were tried unsuccessfully, and then a
shout of joy in well-known tones. The door flew back, and
Malcolm was at his master's feet.
" I thought the villain bad died with a lie in his throat, and
told me wrong," he exclaimed, concealing all emotion under his
usual recklessness ; " but he has not, and I thank him. Away,
away, my dear master ! I hoped to have brought you freedom
time enough to give you the pleasure of sharing our glorious
game ; but I fear me that is over now. We have had but too
easy a victory : the ill-fated slaves were all asleep and com-
fortable, and rushed out in pretty guise, as you may believe.
Sir Thomas would hardly permit the gates to be opened till the
game were won ; thirty armed men against two hundred un-
armed and in pitiable confusion, he deemed but fair play ; and
so the castle is ours, and you are liberated."
*' I little dreamed," said Sir Amiot, " those gliding forms of
darkness were you and my brave companions ; so little did I
think it, that more than once I was about to hail the soldier on
the wall, and demand if he saw aught, the shapes seemed so to
mock me."
" By St. Andrew, my good lord, it was well you did not :
that poor sorry fool, the first to go to his account, startled us
enough with his ill-timed jest ; he little thought his idle words
might have so much truth."
"Ha! you heard them then and the stone?"
" Came thundering down directly over our heads, threatening
inevitable destruction had a single man of us moved or stirred ;
but Randolph was with us, and so calm, so collected, even at
such a moment, if there were any thing like fear amongst us, it
was stilled at once."
^tiz^y Google
THE DAYS OF BRUCE. 61
" Then my right did not deceive' rae ; it was you, my gallant
boy, the first to stand upon the wall I thought it, yet dared
not credit it."
" And why not, my lord ? I thought you knew there is no
mount, no cliff, no wall too steep for Malcolm, an he wills to
scale it. Aye, I first, Sir Andrew Grey the next, and Randolph
himself, brave heart, the third ; he would not trust this daring
deed to other than himself, and well deserves to win it. Haste
on, my lord, be longs to greet thee free."
And they did haste on, for this brief conference had not de-
tained them in the tower, but took place as they hurried
through the courts how changed in aspect lo three days
before towards the keep. The actual strife was over, but the
dead and dying English gave fearful tokens of its fierceness and
effect, some indeed yet struggled ; the clash of weapons was
still distinguished at distant intervals, but faint and hesitating.
Already the Scotch were busy in clearing the ground, slippery
with blood, in securing their prisoners, flinging open all the
dungeon doors, and giving liberty to many who had there
changed youth for age. Troop after troop of Randolph's men,
with banners flying, and heralded by martial and triumphant
music, were marching proudly and leisurely over the draw-
bridge and through the widely open posterns, and meeting in
the centre court before the keep ; their glittering armor flashing
back the blazing light of a hundred torches, their shouts form-
ing a glad, deep bass to the drums and clarions all presenting
a scene of such spirit-stirring interest, Sir Amiot's heart throbbed
high with exultation, to the utter exclusion of every saddening
feeling. Shout after shout hailed his reappearance ; his own
followers breaking from their ranks, thronged round him ; and
Randolph himself, seeing his approach from the entrance to the
keep, hasteneed to meet and embrace him.
" Welcome, welcome, most gallant Amiot!" he snid, eagerly ;
" the joy of seeing thee again at liberty banishes the regret
that thou wert not at my side in this exciting enterprise. It is
but fitting thou shouldst have some share of its glory ; though,
by mine honor, hadst not thou and the Lady Agnes been
within these walls, methinks that paragon of pages had hardly
obtained such hearing or such influence. Thou wert made
captive in seeking her rescue, he tells me, so 'lis meet and just
thou shouldst give her freedom. Thy presence, too, will star'
62 THE DATS OF BRUCE.
her less than other of my knights, gallant thou perchance,
but scarce as gentle."
" Thanks for the grateful task," answered the knight, gayly ;
' but. tell me first the king, has his march to the borders been
prevented by the tidings his afflicted Agnes is here ?"
" Yes ; the boy Malcolm related all that had passed, and I
dispatched a messenger back to Dumbarton on the instant; he
was just in time, one troop had commenced their march, but
were easily recalled. His grace was greatly relieved, but sent
word to leave no stone unturned to gain the fortress or her
freedom, well knowing what confinement is to her."
" And well hast thou performed thy mission," said Sir Amiot,
grasping Randolph's band with energy. " Noble, glorious
Randolph, I could envy thee thy laurels."
" Nay, nay, thou bast plucked too many thyself to grudge
me mine," replied the warrior; "besides, he continued, half
sadly, " remember, I must gather enough to cover former
errors, ere I may wear them as meeds of glory."
Hastily, joyously Sir Amiot sprang up the narrow staircase
he pointed out as leading to the turret room where Agnes was
imprisoned : they had given him the keys, but he stood and
paused a moment, not knowing which door, among several that
faced him, led to her. He was not long in doubt, her voice
thrilled upon his ear, mournfully, painfully, and low, but still,
us was almost always its wont, in broken fragments of song.
Sir Amiot could not bear more, there was such an utter hope-
lessness, such piercing suffering in those low thrilling tones,
that even without the words in which she had thrown her
thoughts, tears would have arisen, and his hand so shook with
emotion, he could scarcely place the key within the lock, or
prevent the clashing of the rest. Her voice sunk on the in-
stant, but on his entrance she bounded forward with a cry
'jf joy.
" 1 am free, then oh, I am free ! I may quit these hateful '
walls, or thou wouldst not be here, kind warrior. Speak I not
truth ? oh, tell me I may go hence, go seek my own love among
the flowers and streams he loves ; it is long, long, oh, so long
since I have seen him ; he cannot smile on me here. I am
free oh, teH me I am free."
" Free as the breeze thou lovest, free as the mountain stream,
sweet lady," answered Sir Amiot, in the low gentle tone she
THE DATB OF BEOOE. 63
had learned to understand, and his heart throbbed with a
strange pleasure as he felt her cling to his arm, and look up in
his face with the loving confidence ne had sought for months in
rain. To his anxious eye the complexion was more transparent,
the features more delicate yet, as if the days of her confine-
ment had left her not untouched, but the change was so faintly
perceptible he could not have defined it. That now and then
there were symptoms of returning sanity was visible to all ;
and, indeed, King Robert and Isoline indulged the hope, that
one day might see that beautiful mind effectually restored.
They saw not, they could not see the form was dwindling more
and more into a spirit shape, and that perchance the same day
that saw the mind in beauty would wing the soul away.
" Free, free !" she repeated, the musical laugh of glee ban-
ishing all sadness from bcr voice. " Oh, what joy for Agnes !
and hast thou done this, gallant Amiot ? Oh, that I could
give thee the love thou deservest, but I cannot; alas, no ! I
have no love for earth now, save for King Robert. I see my
Nigel hovering round him when he is in danger or in woe,
guarding him from peril, beguiling him from grief. He loves
Robert, and bo then must I. But for thee, what can I do to
make thee glad, sir knight?"
" Love me, call me brother !" murmured Sir Amiot, in strong
emotion; "dearest, loveliest, call me brother!"
"Brother!" she repeated, and the expression of her features
sadly changed ; " methinks I had a brother once, but it was
long, long since, and be faded away even before my own noble
love, who smiles on me from heaven. Brother no, no, I will
not call thee brother, for it makes me sad, and I could weep, I
know not why, save that when I hear that word darkness
seems to come upon me, peopled only by dreams of pain. But
tell me, kind Amiot, what was that sudden noise I heard when
I thought every one slept but me, and such a glare of light,
and clashing weapons ? methought 'twas a dream of that which
hath been, for such strange thoughts came with it, such sharp
and bitter pain. Hath there been such a noise, or was it but
the wild visions of my poor brain f"
"Nay, it was no vision, 'twas real, sweet one. Randolph
hath won the castle, hath gained thy liberty and mine, and
done King Robert yet nobler service. He fought and won."
"Ha! saidlnotso?" exclaimed Agnes, suddenly withdraw-
i Google
W THS DAYS OF BKUCE.
ing herself from the support of the knight, and standing almost
majestically erect, a vivid flush on her cheek, her eve glittering
in unwonted radiance. " Said I Dot victory would be ours ?
When did King Robert strike in vain, since He said that
they should conquer ? Strive on, strive on, bold hearts !
He who might not fight for ye on earth, blesses ye from
heaven. Scotland shall be free, shall be exalted; her king
triumphant I"
The brief emotion passed as quickly as it came, followed by
a slight convulsion through every limb, and contracting her
features as if by sudden and irrepressible agony. Sir Amiot
tenderly raised her in his arms, and laid her on the couch. He
had now often seen and mourned over these fearful paroxysms,
and it did not therefore take him by surprise ; he bent over her
in commiserating pity, conscious he could do nothing till nature
herself gave relief, in the usual burst of agonizing tears. And
then he left her, aware that such was always the custom of
those who had her in charge, as aught like observation in such
moments ever seemed to irritate instead of soothe.
He left the door of her apartment open, trusting that, after
the usual interval of internal suffering, the consciousness of per-
fect freedom would operate beneficially. Nor was he deceived
for the sun had not risen above an hour ere her light form
appeared hovering amongst the busy and triumphant soldiers,
bearing no evidence of previous suffering, but looking on for a
few minutes with the amused and curious look of childhood,
and then bounding to the more solitary courts, from mound to
mound, and wall to wall, her sweet voice ringing forth in song,
rejoicing she was free.
A few words from Randolph sufficed to inform Sir Amiot of
all that had passed in his brief captivity. His men, after the
first moment of despondency as to their master's fate, and their
own utter inability to avert it, urged on by Malcolm, hastened
to Lord Randolph's tent, and gave him concise and instant in-
telligence of all that had occurred since they had left his camp,
including, of course, the disappearance of the Lady Agnes, the
king's anxiety and resolution to seek her, their discovery of her
track, pursuit, and brief scuffle at the postern of the castle, and
the fatal effects of Sir Amiot's daring. Randolph heard them
with his wonted attention, dispatched ft messenger with these
tidings instantly to the king, and then set his energetic mind
)3i K:: , Google
THE DAYS OF BEUCE. 65
actively to work in what manner to proceed ; for gain the castle
lie vowed no power on earth should prevent.
The next morning, before daybreak, Malcolm sought him,
requesting a private interview, which was granted on the instant.
The lad then told him that, during his wanderings and adven-
tures, he had often been in the habit of clambering up the crags
on the southern aide of the castle and making his way over the
wall, which was there very low and unguarded, into the very
centre of the fortress ; it was thus, mingling in disguise famil-
iarly amongst the English, he bad procured the information
which he had so loved to report mysteriously to the king or his
officers. He bad done this, he said, continually in almost every
fortress occupied by the English, partly for his amusement,
partly in the hope of finding some one whom he loved ; but the
southern crags of Edinburgh Castle were more familiar to him
than any. To make assurance doubly sure, he had employed
the night previous in retracing his customary path, and found
he had not forgotten one particular concerning it. He had
mounted as far as the wall and clambered down again wholly
unperceived. He was certain, if Lord Randolph would only
trust him, he could lead a select body of daring adventurers to
the very foot of the wall, which, with the aid of rope-ladders,
they could easily surmount and descend. He acknowledged
the path was no easy one, and thai there was most imminent
risk, for if discovered by the English in the act of descending,
they must every one of them inevitably perish ; still he felt no
fear and if Lord Randolph would only leave to him the choice
of the men, he should see bow admirably they would succeed.
For some little time the warrior paused in deep and weighty
thought. He did not doubt the page in the very least, for
his acuteness and agility had been too often proved, and he
knew he was trusted by the king himself. Still the risk was
too great, the danger too extreme for him to venture on a
resolution by himself alone. He then summoned Sir Andrew
Grey, Sir Aleck Fraser, and one or two others noted for their
courage and sagacity, held a brief council, and finally decided
on the daring attempt. Malcolm on his part was not idle.
Eight-and- twenty picked men he selected from the ranks, and
brought to Randolph and his colleagues for approval, who
examined them separately, told them what was needed, and in
- the joyous excitement which the very idea of the enterprise
DO THIS DAYS OF BKUOX.
created, received confirmation sufficient of their mettle and
necessary coolness. His next care was to prepare his army so
as to march through the different gates the moment they were
flung open from within. This had all to be done after dark,
lest their movements should attract the attention of the guard
on, the walls. Great, then, was the disappointment, when the
night decided on for the attack, the moon, though young, shone
so brightly as to prevent the attempt, and compel them to defer
it. The darkness of the next, however, appeared to favor the
enterprise, and, despite the fear the moou might break through
the clouds ere the wall was gained, their ardor could be re-
strained no longer. The main army, divided into five strong
bands, under experienced leaders, was marshalled silently and
cautiously around the castle, to enter at once by every postern
flung open for their admittance ; and Randolph himself, with
Sir Andrew Grey and Sir Aleck Fraser, placed themselves at
the head of their eight- and-t wen ty picked men, and with beat-
ing hearts, but cool, collected daring, gave themselves up to
the truth and guidance of Sir Amiot's page.
The rest is known. How they ascended they afterwards
declared they could not tell, for on looking back by daylight,
they could not trace their path, nor imagine how they had con-
trived to clamber up and round the crags ; a false step, a
loosened stone, a word spoken, must inevitably have betrayed
them, and occasioned their entire destruction, simply by stones
flung from above. The intensity of alarm even in their hardy
breasts, when the voice of the sentinel was heard, declaring he
saw them, and for the moment actually believed he did, may
be perhaps imagined, but certainly not described. Well it was
for them there had not been one wavering spirit, one uncertain
heart amongst them, or the soldier's jest would have been
speedily turned to earnest, and that moment their last.
Great Indeed was the triumph of this important conquest ;
but there was no more pride and exultation in the gallant men
through whose immediate agency it had been accomplished
than in their comrades ; they felt they bad but done what every
other Scotsman would have done, and that they had been
chosen was more the work of chance than their own merits.
Their only anxiety was for the approving look of their sov-
ereign, the joy it would be to tell him another strong castle
was at his feet; and therefore, when Lord Randolph publicly
^tiz^y Google
THE DATS OF BRUCE. 6?
asked them what reward he could bestow on them over and
above their fellows, the unanimous shout arose for permission
to accompany those who bore the tidings to the king.
" Be it so, then, gallant hearts I" exclaimed Randolph, frankly
and joyously. "Sunset shall see ye at Dumbarton, and our
noble king shall receive the Lady Agnes in life and freedom,
and tidings of Edinburgh's downfall at the same time. Will
you, gallant Amiot, accompany Grey and Fraser once more
to the king, or will ye rest with me ? an ye prefer the first, by
St. Andrew, it is but your due ; for without thy sagacity in
tracking these marauding villains to their haunt, the Lady
Agnes might still have beea in captivity, and the king wasting
his strength and hazarding his precious life in inglorious border
warfare. Thou wert the paladin to risk life and lose liberty for
this fair lady, and it is but right thou shouldst conduct her in
all honor to the king."
" Yes, do thou go with me, gentle Amiot," interposed Agnes
herself, who had, unobserved, neared the martial throng, and
now clung to the knight's aim ; "do thou take me to King
Robert, and I will tell him how kind and good thou hast been
to his poor Agnes, and be will give thee the love I cannot ;
and thou wilt lead me to the valleys and mountains I love, and
pluck me fresh flowers and weave me bright garlands wilt
thou not ? yes, yes. Go thou with me."
Her voice thnlled upon those rude hearts around till they,
absolutely melted before it, and men, a moment before alive
but to the dream of glory and triumph, and all the sterner
themes of war, felt a strange quivering of eye and lip, and
turned away lest weakness should be betrayed. Sir Amiot's
impulse, even at that moment, was to fold that fragile being
to his yearning heart, and vow protection and kindness not
alone for that brief journey, but forever and forever; for
if his might not be that right, oh, whose might it be ? but
he could not claim it then and there he might not prove the
Preparations for departure were speedily arranged. With a
concise narrative of the enterprise, Lord Randolph expressed
the wish that the king would himself march to occupy Edin-
burgh, as, from its position, its great strength, its command of
the sea, he deemed it well adapted for the capital of his king-
dom, far better suited for that purpose than Perth, which,
gtizocsy G00gle
68 THE DATS Or BROOK.
lying more at the entrance of the highlands, appeared to con-
fine nis dominions to the north, and left the south to the mercy
of its feudal lords. Sir Amiot, Fraser, and Grey gladly ac-
cepted the charge of these suggestions, and, armed with all
proper directions, set off on their route.
It was a joyous journey. Nature seemed doubly smiling to
the gaze of the free for no nations are more alive to her
changeful aspect than are mountaineers; and it appeared as if
their many wanderings in the bosom of their country, the
many times they had found shelter and protection and conceal-
ment in her vast solitudes and frowning mountains and hidden
dells had endeared her yet more to their hearts, and excited
yet more intense rejoicing in her freedom, in the widely different
aspect she presented now to that of five brief years before.
They passedf through valleys, smiling in fertility and peace, un-
disturbed by the foot of the spoiler ; they traversed villages,
whose every inmate came forth to their cottage doors to cry
God's blessing on them for their bravery and patriotism ; they
saw towns, whose mechanics and citizens were peacefully pur-
suing their several occupations, undisturbed by even the dream
of slavery and spoil. They remarked these things, and there
was not a heart in that gallant band which did not throb
higher in honest exultation that, under a gracious Providence,
their arms had done this their country owed her freedom to
her sons, and to none other.
It was a mournful satisfaction to witness the afflicted Agnes
during this journey. She had chosen to ride, instead of using'
the litter Sir Amiot wished her to accept, and Malcolm was
ever at her bridle-rein, quitting it but to start aside or gallop
forwards to bring her some choice flower his quick eye per-
ceived. He controlled his wandering propensities evidently to
devote himself to her a subject of some marvel to bis com-
rades. Sir Amiot, too, rode beside her ; quitting the gay con-
verse of bis colleagues, who rode ahead, and often besought
him to join them, to tend and, when her rambling fancy would
permit, talk with her. Her beautiful eye continually wandered
round, lit up with glee, save when its gaze fixed itself on the
azure heaven, and then the absorbing intensity of love which it
betrayed, breathed that the fancy she could see the lost object
of that love smiling upon her was again her own, and then
words would escape her as if wholly unconscious of all outward
THE DATS OF BRUCE. 69
objects save his presence, and then the carol of some wild
song expressed the imaginings of her soul in words. Half the
journey she performed on horseback, but then bodily energy
failed, and she was glad to recline in the litter Sir Amiot's care
had provided, on condition, she said, its curtains should bo
wide apart, that she might look upon beautiful nature, And feel
that she was free, that her own spirit love might commune with
her still.
There had been already excitement at Dumbarton Castle
that day, for Lord Douglas had unexpectedly arrived with
news of the final reduction of all Roxburgh, and the borders in
its vicinity; and though he had no intention of as yet leaving
the important province in the hands of his subalterns, he could
not resist the impulse of paying his sovereign a flying visit, and
receiving fresh spirit and hope from the bright eyes of the
Lady Isoline.
King Robert wits in high spirits ; the sight of his favorite
officer, and the news he brought, banishing for the time his
anxiety on account of Agnes, and unusual revelry and mirth
rung round the festive board spread for the sunset meal. De-
termined not to evince the faintest sign of what in reality was
passing or rather lay passive in ber heart, Isolinc's spirit out-
wardly appeared touched by the reigning gayety of the hour,
and Douglas found himself entranced as usual. Hope was
warm within him, and his spirits were exulting beneath its in-
fluence ; be revelled in her surpassing grace and beauty, suf-
ficiently content with present enjoyment not to hazard words of
love, which he well knew would occasion her to be as cold and
reserved as she was now all life and brilliance. King Robert
looked on them both and rejoiced, imagining his earnest wishes
growing nearer and nearer completion. Isoline could not look
thus, speak thus, had she any painful affection dwelling in her
heart, and if there were none, Douglas must succeed.
The last gleam of daylight had disappeared, and the huge
torches of pine shed their bright ruddy light on the large hall,
but there was no cessation, no pause in the lively converse and
gay jests passing round ; the meal seemed prolonged, that the
sociality it engendered might not be disturbed, when loudly and
shrilly a trumpet sounded without the walls, followed by eager
tramp and loud shouts of greeting from within.
"Ha! fresh tidings that is Randolph's bugle blast!" ex-
i Google
70 THE DAYS OF BBUCK.
claimed the king, starting up from his seat of slate. "Quick!
marshal in his messengers, they bring us pleasant news, or he
would not send them. By St. Andrew, 'tis something more
than common listen to those shouts !"
And even as he spoke, " Victory Randolph Edinburgh is
free !" came loudly borne towards the castle, as if the very
breeze, envious of the tongues of men, first bore it to the ears
of the sovereign. The words acted like electricity.
Douglas even forgot Isoline, and sprung up ; a dozen other
of the lords followed his example, and rushed tumultously
from the hall. But what was there in those simple words to
bid the heart of Isoline thus bound up, and flush and pale her
cheek alternately? She had been told Sir Amiot was a pris-
oner a prisoner, aye, in his eagerness to obtain the freedom of
Agnes ; that he had madly, imprudently hazarded, not only
liberty, but life, in his pursuit of her captors. To others this
might seem but chivalry, carried on somewhat rashly ; they
had not seen his emotion when told of her capture ; Isoline had,
and that subsequent devotion was but the natural consequence
of such feeling. What did it mean ? how might she answer,
and yet feel his imprisonment, his danger, were matters of in-
terest to her ? But she did feel them ; aye, despite her striv-
ings for stoicism, her belief he could be nothing to ber, felt
nothing for her, there was no little, suffering upon her heart,
when fancy chose to picture all that might befall him in the
hands of his enemies. Yet this she had successfully concealed ;
she had been bright and brilliant when every nerve was aching ;
but now those words, " Edinburgh is free !" and if so, he must
be liberated, well-nigh banished that extraordinary self-control,
and threatened her heart's betrayal. She felt her hands con-
vulsively close, she could not have prevented it. She felt the
life-blood leave her cheek and flow back to its fountain in her
heart ; a moment, and it rushed through every vein, burning
in her cheek, her lip, with indignation at herself. He stood
before her, and his hand clasped that of Agnes ; his plumed
helmet was in his hand, but there was a smile on his lip, a flash
in his bright eye, visible through the half mask, which told of
satisfaction apart from her. There were many new forms
within the hall. Sir Andrew Grey, with the torn banner of
England, Eraser, with the pennon of St. George, which his
own hand had plncked from the outer turret, and the tall,
THK DAIS OF BRUOti. 71
athletic forms of those gallant men who had been their com-
panions in their during deed ; but Isoline saw them through a
strange mist, in which only two objects were clear. Agnes
clung to Sir Amtot's arm, evidently anxious to spring forward
to the king, but slightly and tenderly restrained by him. He
was bending down his head to hers, and seeming to whisper
some gentle words, which had the effect of detaining her for a
few minutes by his side.
" Free conquered ours!" were the first words distinctly
intelligible to laoline in. the voice of her sovereign. " My noble,
gallant Randolph, well hath he atoned for boyhood's errors !
But, tell me, ere I hear more of this right glorious deed the
Lady Agnes, hath be found her scathless, uninjured ? Is she
free?"
" Aye, most gracious sovereign, and is here I" exclaimed Sir
Amiot, joyfully, and withdrawing his arm at the same moment
from the slender form he supported. Agnes bounded forward
with that cry of glee so grateful to the sovereign's ear, and
clasped his neck, clinging to his bosom as a child.
" Free free ! yes, I am free 1 Oh, they kept me in stone
walls, and far, far away from my own kind Robert ; and I
could not even seek flowers and listen to the birds, and there
came dark thoughts upon me and such sharp pain, but they
have all gone now. He came and rescued me, that gentle
knight and thou must love him for me, Robert ; thou knowest
poor Agnes cannot, she has no love now save for thee ! Wilt
thou not reward bim? he has been so kind !"
King Robert gazed upon her, so beautiful, so innocent in her
affliction, and even at that moment of rejoicing in her unex-
pected freedom, and triumph in his nephew's conquest, there
came the memory of his brother on his soul, flinging its dark-
ness on his lip and brow. What might not that lovely being
have been had he lived ? what would have been his brother's
bliss, had he been still in life ? Deep, pure as was Robert's
joy in this glorious freedom of his country, he knew, he felt it
wduld have been exceeded by the joy of Nigel. How, amid
such thoughts, could he think that beloved one was happier in
heaven ? He could not forget his horrible fate while Agnes
yet lived, by her affliction to recall it so vividly ; and in that
moment of suddenly awakened memory the patriot, the war-
rior, the sovereign felt as if all was as naught, all could be
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72 THE DATS OF BRUCE.
sacrificed, to fold that brother in life, in beauty, to his yearning
heart.
He bent his lordly head upon that of Agnes, and without
uttering a syllable covered, her pale brow with kisses, but there
needed not words ; his warriors read that sudden change of
countenance, the form of Nigel seemed to float before them all,
and for a brief minute there was a sudden hush of eager
tongues, an involuntary pause.
" To the board, to the board, ray gallant hearts !" exclaimed
the king, conquering that moment of emotion, as Agnes, re-
leased from bis embrace, seated herself as usual on a low settle
at his side, content to look on and hear him. " Ye have ridden
long and well to bear us thus speedily these right glorious
tidings. Room there, for our faithful comrades, well worthy
to feast with their king. Welcome, welcome, one and all I
Fill high every cup to Randolph and his thirty I"
Loudly, enthusiastically the words were echoed again and
yet again, and well it was perhaps for Isoline, the confusion
which for a few minutes ensued enabliug her, ere room was
found for the new arrivals and order restored, to regain at
least the semblance of composure.
Sir Amiot's eye had sought her amid the group of females
scattered round the monarch's table. There was an unusual
eipression of hilarity in those of his features which were visible,
and in his whole manner, and he had made a hasty advance
towards Isoline as Agnes sprung from him to the king, as if
claiming her sympathy in the liberation of her friend then,
from some rising recollection, he suddenly checked himself, the
bright flash faded from his eye, and he merely bowed lowly in
the respectful salutation her rank demanded. The bow was
acknowledged coldly, it seemed to him reservedly, if not with
unusual assumption of dignity, and the knight, chilled and sad-
dened, took the place assigned him, and sought to join in the
animated converse passing round him. Douglas had resumed
his place by the side of the Lady Isoline, and she, as if re-
solved lo prove her mastery over herself as well as over every
one else, and determined to brave even his misconstruction
rather than betray a single wandering thought, urged him on
to give his opinion, his admiration of Randolph's gallant deed,
entering herself into every martial detail, with that spirit, that
animation which marked her connection with the glorious line
THE DAYS OF BECCK. 73
of Brace, and rendered her perhaps yet dearer to her kinsmen.
It was a gay and spirit-stirring scene, that old hall, that joyons
night, for the enthusiasm of every heart was stamped on every
brow, and breathed in every word. There was much for King
RobertHo hear, much he bade them repeat again and yet again,
and when every particular of that dating exploit was told, ap-
plause swelled so long and loud, the arched roof echoed with
the sound.
" Aye, to Edinburgh we will go," were the monarch's part-
ing words that night. " Won by a patriot band, it shall hence-
forth be the capital of a patriot land, the dwelling of patriot
kings. To Randolph we will go, my fellow-soldiers, ourselves
to give him the meed of glory he so well deserves. One cup
to Scotland's glory, and then to the rest ye so well need. '
The pledge passed round, the king departed, followed by one
simultaneous cheer, that in truth wrung on his bold heart with
a mighty sound, for it told of a kingdom's love.
CHAPTER V.
A vert few months after the capture of Edinburgh Castle
sufficed to give the whole town an aspect of bustle and activity
peculiarly grateful to its inhabitants, so long depressed and
groaning 'neath the consciousness that as long as their proud
citadel were in English hands however they might share the
privileges, the immunities of other citizens granted by King
Robert, still they were not free. They had heard of castles
falling, of even countrymen and peasants rising in arms, and had
felt yet more keenly the desire and the impossibility of laying
their castle, even as others, at the feet of the king. That was
now accomplished ; the proud banner of Scotland waved in
majestic folds from the keep, Scottish soldiers crowded the
walls, Scottish nobles frequented the city, and lastly, but more
precious yet to Scottish hearts, their patriot king had fixed his
resting there, and with imposing pomp and ceremony, at which
every civil and military authority of the city officiated, proclaim-
ed that fair town the capital of Scotland, the seat of royalty,
the centre of all of art or science that might fling the lustre of
VOL. II. (
D,afec==yGooale
74 THB DATS OF BBCOX.
her name to other lands, and shed increase of glory on her touts ;
and there were not wanting those, amid the thronging thou-
sands that day congregated, to prophesy the future fame of
that goodly town ; that she would send forth from her walls
not warriors alone, but men armed with the might of genius,
the steady rays of philosophy, of learning ; that, proclaimed
thus the capital of a land made free, she would preserve her
freedom through distant ages, and foster in her bosom all of
worth and art and genius, that can exist but midst the free.
King Robert permitted not that enthusiasm to cool. Disorders
that had crept in during the English bondage were rectified ;
the public schools were rearranged on a sure footing ; encour-
' agement afforded to artists of every grade, and all the blessings
of peace and security took the place of outrage aud of gloom.
A new spirit dawned upon the town, lighting up its every nook
and lowliest home with the beams of that sun which shines but
for the free !
For a brief period the king of Scotland gave his undivided
attention to the internal comfort and strength of his kingdom
and people ; made repeated excursions from Edinburgh to oth-
er towns and districts ; arranged aught that might be disorder-
ly, heightened all that was flourishing. Happiness and peace
waited on his steps, and left their trace behind them. He saw
that all of Scotland in his possession was secure ; that the cas-
tles and fortresses he had permitted to stand, as guardians of
the country, were well seneschalled and garrisoned: and thus,
on his return to Edinburgh, he had leisure to form his plans for
another expedition against England, which by internal conflicts
was well-nigh torn asunder.
"Any service needed along the coast of Ireland, Sir Knight
of the Branch?" said Lord Edward Bruce, jocosely, meeting Sir
Araiot in one of the antechambers of the castle, early in the
June of the same year. " Know you I am going to change my
services from a general's to an admiral's, and would ask your
sombre worship to accompany me, did I imagine the request
likely to be of nny weight. Think you, your fair charge for I
must deem her fair, as naught but a woman could hold a young
knight so steadfast to bis oath think you, I say, there is a
ohance of finding her on some desert rock of the ocean, or wild
tower on the Irish coast? if so, give me charge concerning
her."
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TBB DATS OF BRUCE. 75
" I thank your lordship for the kindly offer, but I have some-
what more hope for the fulfilment of my vow in accompanying
King Robert to England ; were it other, I would gladly try my
fortune on the seas. But for what go ye to Ireland ? whither
and for what purpose seek you the treacherous deep ? He-
thought it were a service scarce active enough for Lord Edward
Brace."
" Why no, perchance not, were it not a pleasant change ; and
Robert I pray his grace's pardon has a right to demand of
me what he pleases. I would lose my right hand in his ser-
vice, and fight with my left forever after, if it would pleasure
him; king as he is, successful, more gloriously triumphant,
there is not a spark of presumption about him ; he is all a bro- ,
ther still. For what purpose seek I the coast of Ireland dost
ask ? why, to levy tribute gold for King Robert instead of
King Edward and I shall succeed, rest you assured."
" No doubt of it," answered Sir Araiot, laughing ; ," Lord
Edward Bruce, like his royal brother, has but to appear, and
that which he wishes is done ; nay, it is no chivalric courtesy,
my lord, thou knowest 'tis truth. For this English expedition,
hast heard more concerning it are the king's plans deter-
" I believe yes, or very nearly so, depending on the informa-
tion expected by an express from England. He marches as
soon after that information as possible. Our poor afflicted Ag-
nes has so conjured him not to leave her behind again that,
somewhat unwisely, I think, he has promised compliance. On
a predatory expedition like this, there is much risk and little
convenience for females."
"For females! the Lady Agnes will not go there alone I"
Sir Amiot's heart throbbed as he spoke.
" No ; that madcap Isob'ne has not ceased tormenting to go
too, declaring her desire to visit England was too ungovernable
to be resisted. His grace has half consented, for the sake of
Agnes, and partly tu further his darling scheme."
" And what is this darling scheme ?'
" Now, art thou really so wrapt in thine own melancholy
musings as not to know, nay, to see, for it is clear as crystal ?
Does not Douglas go with you, and if Isoline still shunned him,
aa there was a time when we fancied she did, would she be so
earnest in desiring to accompany the lung ? no, no ; depend on
D.gtizocay'GoOgle
76 THE DATS OF RECCE.
it, she is beginning to be touched by his devotion, and wishes
to watch his conduct in the field with her own eye, at least so
King Robert argues, and it sounds well."
" And it is King Robert's darling wish to bring about this
union ?" demanded Sir Amiot, with a huskinees of tone he en-
deavored to conceal.
" Darling wish ! why he would, I think, fight for his king-
dom over again to bring it about, and make that little inde-
pendent Isoline love Douglas as Douglas loves, and, what is
more, deserves to be loved,"
" And thinkest thou this will be ? Does the Lady Isoline
love does she reciprocate his devotion ?"
" Not a doubt of it ; not a doubt but that it will be. Isoline
was not at all likely to let him see bis triumph too soon ; she
would rather keep him at bay try him by coldness and pride,
and all that sort of thing. But what was it for ? simply to
make her victory more complete, and use all her powers ere
she submitted them to him. I am not over wise in reading
woman's heart, but that's all clear enough."
" You think, then, she loves him now ?"
" Undoubtedly I do. How could she remain untouched by
such constant devotion as he has shown ? and this desire to
accompany King Robert to England confirms it."
" Truly, yes, replied Sir Amiot, with an effort, that to any
other but Lord Edward Bruce must have been observable ;
then hastily changing the conversation, he said :
" Was there not some talk of an expedition to the Isle of
Man ? Does your lordship take it into your cruise, or will his
grace make the attack ?"
" If this expedition to England be attended with his usual
success, the galleys wilt, in all probability, await him off the
coast of Cumberland, and he will set sail thence with part of
his army, leaving the rest to march leisurely to Scotland. But
a word in your ear. Sir Amiot ; Dundee and Rutherglen shall
acknowledge Robert ere he return. I have set my heart on
their reduction, and trust me for the deed."
" And Stirling V
" All in good time. There shall remain no fortress in Scotland
garrisoned by English, while Edward Bruce can wield a sword.
Ha 1 Sir Henry Seaton ; what news whither go ye all, my
lords V he continued, as several noblemen entered the ante-room.
^tiz^y Google
IBS DATS OF BBCOB. 77
" To the king," was the reply. " The express from England
has arrived, bringing important news. Gaveston is mur-
"Ha! by my faith, important indeed. Poor wretch! so
much for favoritism. Come, Amiot, we'll to the king also ;"
and putting his arm into the knight's, they followed the lords
into the presence of the king.
The state of England wag indeed startling. Torn by internal
divisions, broken into two parties, one of which, consisting
simply of Edward and his ill-fated favorite, struggled vainly
against the overwhelming power of all the English aristocracy,
up in anna to wash out the insolence and audacity of the up-
start minion in his blood, the kingdom presented almost as fair
a field for conquest as Scotland had done to the rapacious Ed-
ward of former years. Edward the Second had been compelled
to fly northward before the arms of Lancaster, carrying his fa-
vorite with him, leaving him in the fortress of Scarborough, he
himself marching to York, in the hope of raising forces suffi-
cient to overawe Lancaster and his confederates. Before, how-
ever, this could be accomplished, Pembroke had besieged
Scarborough, the slender garrison of which compelled Gaves-
ton to surrender. He did so, however, on conditions, which,
had they been adhered to, might have saved him from his
horrible fate. Pembroke artfully eluded them, conducting him
to the castle of Dedington, near Banbury ; he there left him
under but a slender guard, and departed on pretence of (im-
portant business, but in all probability to counsel with the Earl
of Warwick on measures afterwards adopted. Warwick, con-
fident of success from Pembroke's intelligence, attacked the
castle. The garrison made no resistance, but delivered up
Gaveston into the hands of his enemies, who conducted him
with all speed to Warwick Castle, and there Lancaster, Here-
ford, and Arundel, instantly repaired. Hatred has little regard
to law, and consequently, without any reference to civil trial or
military capitulation, the head of the favorite was struck off by
the common executioner, without mercy or delay.
. Incensed beyond all measure at this outrage to his favorite,
vowing vengeance unlimited against its perpetrators, Edward
was making preparations for war all over England, and no time
therefore could be more favorable for King Robert's plans.
The Scottish king had listened attentively and silently to this
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78 THE DATS OF BBTTCE.
intelligence, expressing some pity both for Oaveston and Ed-
ward. Hia acute mind saw at once the favorable opportunity
for further conquests.
His plans were discussed freely and fully, and speedily ar-
ranged. Orders were given to collect and marshal bis soldiers,
to bring them under their several leaders towards the borders,
there to unite into one compact close body, ready to penetrate
in a southwesterly direction towards Chester, to which place
King Robert had resolved, despite of all opposition, to make
his way.
" And now this weighty business accomplished," be said,
Krceiving some of the lords about to depart, " I would fain
ow if augbt has been heard of Sir Alan Comyn in these Eng-
lish proceedings. Has that unhappy youth fallen a victim to
favoritism, even as the presumptuous Gaveston ? Can any one
tell is there any mention of his name ?"
" Some speak of him as being still with Edward, his only
surviving prop and consolation the sweet-voiced traitor ; and
others say he shared Gaveslon's fate ; if so, the English have
but taken justice out of our hands, and so God speed them."
" Peace, Seaton, peace," returned the king, somewhat sternly ;
" speak not so wrathfully of that poor misguided boy. The
saints forefend that such should be his miserable fate J while he
lives I may hope yet to clear this mystery."
"Mystery, what mystery?" fiercely interrupted Edward
BrtfGe. " Is there aught of mystery in his public devotion to
his country's bitterest foe ? in the fact that the same lip which
swore with such pretended emotion loyalty to Bruce, should
forswear itself in similar vows to Edward ? Mystery, that the
craven should prefer riches, honor, security, in an English court,
to danger, poverty, privation, in the camp of Brace ? Pshaw I
there is little of mystery here."
" Edward, I tell you there is much, much. I will never be-
lieve that this came to pass freely and fairly ; that boy had too
much of bis mother's spirit in him to draw back thus, and
desert a cause he so nobly embraced."
" Embraced in his earliest youth, my gracious liege," rejoined
Lennox. " Your highness's remembrance of that son of a re-
bellious bouse does indeed honor to thine heart, but trust me,
will find no response in his youthful enthusiasm. The presence
and counsels of his exalted mother might well occasion the bold
^tiz^y Google
THK DATS OF BBU02. 79
loyalty he at first displayed ; but parted from that mother and
that cause, ber voice hushed, nay, perhaps her very existence
hidden from him, in the very midst of a court noted for licen-
tiousness and pleasure, made the pet and plaything of a luxu-
rious monarch, is there mystery or marvel in this change ? My
liege, dismiss this misguided scion of the Comyn from your
kindly thought ; he is not worthy of the regret, the affection
thus bestowed on him."
" Lennox, Lennox," answered the king, urgently, though
mildly, " I doubt not the wisdom or experience of your ma-
imer judgment, I would not do it wrong ; yet, my friend, were
this boy other than a Comyn, thinkest thou, thou wouldst thus
quarrel with my feelings, my doubt of this strange tale ?
Answer me frankly : were Alan other than a Comyn, would not
thy judgment be other than it is V
" In sober truth, my liege, it would ; but when we have had
such bloody proofs of the Comyn s undying hatred to the
Bruce, and treachery to Scotland hatred from all who bear
that name, from the serf to the lord, inciting not mere open
warfare, but midnight assassination, or poisoned meal is it
well, is it wise, to except one to the diabolical infamy of the
line, because, before be mingled with them, he bad seen and
heard but loyalty, and fancied himself loyal ? It is belter,
Krchance, he is the traitor they proclaim him ; it bad been a
tor pang to him to feel himself alone of that base line. And
by my knightly faith, I fear, even in this camp, in the very face
of seeming loyalty and patriotism, he would have met mis-
trustera ; that name, that blackened name, how could its bearer
pass unquestioned ?"
A low deep hum of assent passed through the lordly crowd
at these words, betraying but too clearly how completely the
sentiments of the aged nobleman were echoed by his fellows.
Sir Amiot alone neither spoke nor moved. He was standing
close beside, ratber behind, the sovereign's chair, and his tall
form partly shadowed by the drapery of a curtain ; he had
been the most eagerly animated of all who discussed the ex-
pedition to England, smoothing every difficulty advanced by
others. None knew the effort it was to speak thus, or even if
they had, none could have discovered its cause, little dreaming
there could have been any thing in Lord Edward Brucea
blunt conference, to which alone the effort might be traced.
80 TUB DATS Off BOTOX.
The sodden start occasioned by the king's first words concern-
ing Sir Alan Comyn was controlled so speedily and successfully,
it escaped observation, and he resumed the post he was about
leaving ; glancing first at the sovereign and then on his nobles,
and once or twice with difficulty restraining speech, he stood
proudly and yet more proudly erect ; but his fellow -nobles
were all too much engrossed in then- own speculations to notice
him.
The king had listened to the assenting voice with a painful
expression of sadness on his noble features, then rousing him-
self, said, cheerfully : " Not with us, my good lords, not with
us. I had no shadow of doubt as to the truth, the loyalty that
ill-fated boy expressed ; I should have honored , trusted in h ira,
aye, in the very midst of the dark treason of his line. Even
now, did he return to me, acknowledge his error, swear re-
newed fidelity, I would, for his mother's sake, forgive and be-
lieve him. Still there is mystery, I say again ; nay, there are
times I believe his tyrant father, carried on by passion, did
wreak his murderous vengeance on his son, and to disguise or
conceal the horrible deed, has forged this tale. Laugh an ye
will, my lords, at your monarch's incredulity, but till that boy
be brought before me, and I see his own proper person, hear
from his own lips this tale, I'll not believe it."
" Surely it were better for us to learn a lesson of your grace's
noble charity, than laugh at it," unexpectedly interposed Sir
Amiot, speaking very slowly, as if under some restraint ; " for
my own part, my liege, I would fain think with thee."
" Because you know little of that false line from which the
Btripling springs, my good friend," answered Edward Bruce.
" Did you know them as we do, you would think as we do, and -
marvel less at the benevolence and kindness with which his
highness speaks, for tint U natural, than at the want of wisdom
such credulity implies. However he might trust that boy
again, I should hold it my duty to prevent it, if by no other
way, by the sharp steel."
" And I, and I, and I," responded many voices.
" Methought the Countess of Buehan bore such a name for
loyalty and patriotism, her son might be judged more kindly,"
continued Sir Amiot, still in that same guarded tone, " There
are brave tales told of her."
" And rumor for once speaks truth, and less than truth," re-
THE DATS CV BBCCK. 81
piled Lord Edward, frankly ; " she is a great, a good, a glori-
ous woman ! I would lose my left hand to-morrow, to gain
her freedom. Had her son been still under her control, he
would never have been the thing he is, nor I have doubted
him, although his name be Comyn."
" But surely, my lord, that influence could have been of
little worth so soon to pass away. Bethink thee, a mother hath
great power, and he was not, I have heard, so young when they
were parted."
"Bight, Amiot, right!" exclaimed the king, as he rose to
depart. "Beshrew me, thou hast spoken wisely, and some-
what more kindly of a stranger than these good knights, who
knew and seemed to love him. Trust me, that mother's power
will one day be proved. He is more a Duff than a Comyn, I'll
be sworn, and if he be in Edward's court, 'tis force not love
that keeps him'."
" Every man to his own thoughts, my royal brother," re-
joined Edward Bruce, as the king courteously quitted the
chamber ; " thine are perchance those of a forgiving, mine of
an avenging warrior. There was never yet a Comyn who was
not enemy to the Bruce, whose blood showed not the same
black poisonous stream, however mingled with a purer and
root and branch I'll sweep them from the earth."
He clenched his hand threateningly, and the dark scowl of
tengeance gathered on his brow. There were many to join
him in hatred of this race, in vowing their extermination.
Others speculated a little longer on the real situation and poli-
tics of the young heir of Buchan, and others again eagerly
returned to the exciting thoughts of an expedition into England,
and so the assembly dispersed.
It was very late before Sir Amiot bad concluded some military
arrangements with his colleagues, and found himself quietly at
his quarters. His couch was ready, his page in attendance,
but there seemed no inclination on his part to avail himself of
these comforts ; he flung himself down on the first Beat that
presented itself, and covered his face with his bands. Malcolm
looked at him with great surprise and some alarm ; at length,
" To England, my noble master ; think, at length we march to
England," be said, half hesitatingly, half joyously. " And the
Lady Agnes goes with us to make our triumph the more com-
plete."
4*
DKjtizocayLiOOSle
"Triumph, what triumph 1" demanded his master, suddenly
looking up, but speaking in a tone so hollow, it presented a
strange contrast to the page's joy.
" Nay, now, my lord, something must in truth have gone
wrong for you to ask me this. Will it be no triumph when her
freedom is won, no triumph when this disguise may be cast off,
and you stand forth your own noble self? '
" Malcolm, Malcolm, cease, in mercy !" passionately escaped
Sir Amiot, and he strode up and down the room as one wrung
almost to phrensy. "I, too, once believed this would be a
triumph, a glorious triumph ; but now, now let me but gain her
freedom, and lie down and die !"
" My lord Sir Amiot !" exclaimed the page, and he gently
took his master's burning hand. " Oh, you are ill, you must
be, or you would not speak thus gain her freedom and die !
How would she bear this, she to whom thou art all in all ?"
" She believes me dead ; why undeceive her ?" he answered,
though he was evidently softened, for he sunk back into his
seat and the hand his page held trembled with emotion; " why
undeceive her, when it will be but to see me scorned and shun-
ned as a traitor, leagued with traitors? They have told me
this, their own lips have sworn, root and branch, to extermi-
nate the traitor line, and why, why should I escape ? No, no,
better die than bear this she, she shall live to be happy.
They have told her I am dead, and she has mourned for me as'
dead she will now weep no more."
" But if they have tola her the lie that rumor hath conveyed
even here, the black, slanderous lie ?"
" Malcolm, she'll not believe it no ; did an angel swear it.
No, she would not wrong me thus 1" exclaimed Sir Amiot,
r'n starting up. " She would believe me dead, but not that
k lie ; not that even force bath made me villain. No, no,
she'll not believe it 1"
" She would not, would not, my noble master in truth, she
would not ; and trust me, none else will, when she proclaims
thee hers. When men remember years of fidelity, of courage
tried in many a well-fought field, will they dare repeat these
slanders ? No, no, they judge thus because they know naught
of him whom they condemn. Gain but her freedom, and show
thyself the noble being that thou art, that thou hast ever been."
" I would I had thy hopeful heart, my faithful Malcolm,"
i Google
THE DATS Or BRUCE. 63
replied his master, pausing in his hasty walk, and laying his
hand caressingly on his young follower's shoulder ; " but
hadat thou heard all that I have, thou, too, wouldat feel that
scarce could be. Well, well, let it be ; my path lies onward,
my vow is not yet fulfilled, and till it is, my heart must not
fail me, even though 'tis crushed and bruised !"
" Do not speak so, my lord ; think, only think we march to
that land, to that very city where the foe holds ber prisoner ;
ber freedom must be, shall be gained."
Sir Amiot shook his head. " We have marched to that city
before, my good boy, and marched from it and left her there ;
and hope was stronger then than it is now. Malcolm, my soul
is deadened, hope hath no voice within."
" It is- silent, that reality may be more joyous yet ; oh, trust
me, thy vow shall soon be accomplished, thy name be known,
honored, shouted aloud as the friend, not the foe of the Bruce,
and then," be looked archly in Sir Amiot's race, " the Lady
Isoline, my lord "
" Will be the bride of Douglas !" and Sir Amiot's voice
grew stern with emotion. " Malcolm, speak not of ber.
King Robert gives his niece to Douglas, and she will be his
bride."
" Douglas the bride of Douglas," and the boy laughed
long and lightly, though not disrespectfully ; " an that is all
thou fearest, good my lord, shake off the fancy as thou wooldst
the nightmare of thy sleep. The bride of Douglas, that Lady
[soline will never be I"
" And wherefore not ?" demanded Sir Amiot, roused despite
of himself.
"Simply because Lady Isoline will never marry, even to
please King Robert,, the man she loves not."
" And how knowest tbou that she loves not Douglas ?"
" How ? never mind, my lord, but trust my eyes better than
thine own. And now surely, your lordship will to rest ;
already I see the first gleam of morning."
Sir Amiot followed nis advice, soothed and roused from his
despondency, even to his own wonderment, by his page's eager
words. It is strange bow brightly and beautifully hope will
return to the human breast, even after she has seemed crushed
and forever. The knight would in truth have found it difficult
to define wherefore his feelings had undergone so complete
84 IBB DATs OF BSUOE.
change in so short an interval ; why the buoyant hopefulness
of the young Malcolm should so extend itself to him, when in
truth it had but words, glowing words, no foundation on which
to rest. Still he was young, though his peculiar situation had
given him the sadness and experience of age, and Nature will
sometimes speak when her voice has appeared hushed ; and
she spoke now, when Hope relit her torch for it is youth,
elastic, springing youth, and youth alone, to whom Hope is a
guardian angel, a reviving spirit, unknown to matarer years.
The deep wound the nobles so unconsciously had inflicted had
turned bis thoughts from other painful subjects, and the sooth-
ing of the first seemed to shed balm upon the last, though,
alas ! only for that one night ; the neit morning showing him
Douglas ever at the Lady Isoline's bridle-rein but too vividly
recalled the words of Lord Edward Bruce, and dashed his re-
turning spirit with deeper gloom.
" Does the Lady Isoline know whote liberty you seek, my
lord 1" the page asked him, carelessly, on one of their daily
inarches southward.
" How can you ask ? of course, no. My vow forbids, for if
I breathe her name, I tell my own," was the reply. To which
the page rejoined
" Would that she did, my lord, for she is proud, and if she
thinks "
"Thinks what?" demanded his master, but the page had
spurred off to finish his soliloquy elsewhere.
The movements of King Robert's army were, as usual, rapid
and successful. Pouring down on the north of England from
the Cheviot Hills, the country soon displayed the marks of his
progress. Houses, castles, villages fell before the sweeping
anus of the avengers, for so the soldiers now looked upon them-
selves, and gloried in the title.
Divided into two stout bands, the first, under command of
the renowned Douglas and Randolph, made such rapid and
triumphant way, that the second band, following more leisurely,
appeared more like the quiet progress of a conqueror through
an humbled soil, than tbe rear-guard of an advancing foe. In
this band was the king, and with him his niece, the Lady
Isoline, whose high spirit gloried in the triumphs that she wit-
nessed, to the utter exclusion of all personal thought of danger.
Her safety, however, was but tittle endangered, for the English
tbc dats or raroB. 85
inside no resistance, flying before the advancing armies, as if all
dream of strife and war with such a foe were worse than futile.
Bat Isoline was still a woman, though a daring one, and many
a time did her benevolence, her tender thought for the sorrow-
ing and injured, soften the horrors of their fate, and bind
them in chains of amity and kindness to their conquerors, in-
clining them of their own accord to terms of peace and friend-
ship. She hovered, like a ministering angel, amidst the iron
warriors composing her uncle's troops excited and exciting,
giving vent to all the natural resolution of her character ; look-
ing on the skilful manoeuvre, the sagacious march with an eye,
clear, intelligent as any of those whose trade was war ; a mind
pleased and interested, yet never losing one atom of the deli-
cacy, the refinement, the dignity, the gentleness of her sex,
never intruding a remark which might be deemed unwomanly.
She was in truth a lovely specimen of woman in the chivalric
era ; one uniting in herself every quality that could fascinate a
soldier either in the battle-field or tented bower, and hold him
there a willing prisoner to her power. Few, indeed, who gazed
on her imagined how large a share of woman's peculiar feelings
lay shrioed in that little heart; that even now, while every
word breathed energy, every glance spoke fire, or softened into
sympathy with all who needed it, there were thoughts and
puns within, which perchance had bowed some others of her
sex even to the earth, or wrapt them up in selfish musing and
unquiet gloom. If any dream of a mood too masculine entered
an observer's soul, he had but too look on her with the afflicted
Agnes, to mark how soothingly and fondly she would forget all
else to tend and to caress her, and the dream would vanish
quicker than it came.
There was a change too in the temperament of Agnes, which
this expedition had made perceptible. The wild, wayward fan-
cies of childhood which had characterized her wanderings in
Scotland, now gave way much more often to a loftier mood ; a
spirit sometimes approaching inspiration, sometimes so nearly
resembling perfect sanity, that it would rouse eager hopes in
the breast of both her sovereign and Isoline, aye, and in another,
too, who loved her none guessed how dearly ; but his hopes
were mingled with fears, for every time she appeared more than
usually conscious, less engrossed with inward fancies. Sir Amiot
seemed intuitively to perceive the frame grew weaker and more
86 THE DATS Off BBUOB.
fragile ; and while be longed he dreaded to behold a return
of mind.
Occupying a high station near the person of his king, Sir
Amioi's opportunities of associating with Isoline were more
frequent than satisfactory. She did not avoid, but she did not
invite his attention and devotion as she had at first ; and he,
believing there was more truth in Lord Edward's words con-
cerning her love for Douglas than he chose to own even to him-
self, and feeling too that he could have no claim upon her, that
even if her heart were disengaged, how might be, a nameless
adventurer, wrapt in mystery, hope fera place within it ? he,
too, kept aloof, seeking, how vainly may be imagined, to keep
bis heart and thoughts fixed on the object he once hoped
would alone engross them the liberation, the happiness of one
who, until he beheld Isoline, had reigned without a rival in his
love. Through lingering years he had struggled on for Scot-
land, yet, coupled with his soul's desire for her freedom, was a
yet dearer object, his daily thought, his nightly dream ; wben
the darkness of despondency gathered thickly around him on
tbe battle-field, that object sustained him still ; and though,
perchance, be cared but little for his life, that life was not his
own, he had vowed it unto her, and that vow should be ful-
filled. He looked to but one spot in the future her libera-
tion ; the rest was all a blank, to be filled up he knew not, cared
not how. Tbougb not always had he thought thus ; there had
been a time when young ambition looked to that liberation as
but the sunrise of glory, as the opening of a long vista of ra-
diant gladness, in which fame, love, honor, all bad bad glee-
some resting ; but years had stolen on that boyhood's dream,
with all the sickness of hope deferred, and though that object
was still the life, the pivot of his being, his visioned future now
ever ended with its attainment.
King Robert gained his daring purpose. The ancient city of
Chester was not only reached, but, as if in reckless challenge of
tbe English power, for a few weeks he encamped there, re-
ceiving deputations from the four northern counties, entreating
peace, and, following the example of the Bishopric of Durham,
whose capital city had been stormed in a night, offered the sum
of two thousand marks for redemption from further attack, and
solemnly entering into an engagement with the Bruce, which
granted him the privilege of marching through their territories
THE DATS OF BKUCE. 87
whenever he wished to make war on England. This was too
eligible an offer to be refused. The king accepted it, far more
as a tacit acknowledgment of his power, than with any present
idea of availing himself of it ; and in consequence, when lie had
given his army sufficient rest, retraced his steps northward,
with as little molestation as if he had been making a progress
through his own kingdom. Encamping again at Hartlepool, he
thence dispatched Douglas with half his army to Carlisle, in
the hope of reducing that city to obedience, determining him-
self to attempt that of Berwick, which still resisted the Scottish
arms. For this purpose he did not remain very long at Hartle-
pool, but departed, taking with him most of his army, leaving
only a small but steady troop, under command of Sir Amiot, to
follow more leisurely, with Isoline and Agnes, whom he left
under that knight's especial care.
It was on the evening of the fourth day's march from Hartle-
pool that Sir Amiot found himself for the first time riding
abreast with the Lady Isoline, at such a distance from bis sol-
diers, who were surrounding the litter of Agnes, that they were
comparatively alone. It was perhaps strange this had not oc-
curred before, for the lady had certainly not appeared to avoid
him, but it so happened that a group of young officers had
generally joined Sir Amiot and his charge at the head of the
cavalcade. This evening, however. Lady Isoline had expressed
a wish to explore a wild picturesque path, leading down from
the main road. Sir Amiot had accompanied her, and on re-
turning to the line of march, about a mile further, they found
themselves much ahead of their followers.
"And amidst all the castles, convents, towns, and cities that
have acknowledged King Robert's power, can it be your ob-
ject is stili unattained, sir knight, or have you wearied of the
hope, and wait till chance effect it ?" Isoline inquired, after the
conversation had continued for some time in an animated strain
on King Robert's triumphant progress, and other chivalric
topics.
" Wearied of my hope ? no, lady, I had wearied of my life
sooner," was his somewhat mournful answer. " It is indeed
ever fading, but can never wholly depart. I did look to this
expedition to bring it nearer ; that in some castle in our way
I might find the captive whom I seek. I hoped Edward's
policy had not retained her so many years in the weary durance
88 THE BATB O* BEDCB.
in which hie father's tyranny had placed her; but if she be still
there which now I say heaven grant she be I still hope, for
Berwick is our destination."
" Berwick ! Have you certain intelligence, then, the captive
you seek is there ? Think you not it is more probable, an she
be of the rank and power you describe, she shares the imprison-
ment of the Queen of Scotland and her train ?"
" It may be," replied the knight, musingly ; "perchance it
is, and yet Edward must be indeed contrary to his father, an he
grant her such honorable keeping. I speak in seeming mystery,
lady ; would, would it were not bo, that in thy kindly ear I
might pour forth a tale which, simple as in reality it is, mystery
hath turned to marvel."
"I would there were no mystery, for thine own sake, sir
knight," replied the lady, kindly. " Trust me, thou hast mine
earnest wishes for its speedy dissolution."
" And blessing on thee, lady, for that kind tone !" answered
Sir Amiot, passionately. " Oh, lady, I deemed my vow of
easy keeping, that I should scarce wish more than liberty to
fight under King Robert's banners, and thus obtain its fulfil-
ment ; but since I have known thee, oh, my heart hath throbbed
and burned to cast aside this shrouding guise and tell thee I
am free ; that, spite of poverty, of a name, that when spoken
may perchance fling down an eternal barrier between its bearer
and the Bruce despite of these, I am free, unshackled free
to offer unto thee the lowly homage thy nobleness demands
"Nay, sir knight, I pray thee a truce to chivalry," said Iso-
line, at the same moment causing her palfrey to spring forward,
to enable her to control a sudden emotion, she knew not
whether of pleasure or of pain ; " I wish companionship not
homage now. Sir Amiot, and to agraver subject whatthinkest
thou of the Lady Agnes ? the change in her can scarce have
passed thee unobserved ?"
" It has not, lady ; I see it with joy yet trembling, for I fear
me the frame will scarce have strength to sustain the sudden
weight of mind restored."
" Thinkest thou so, indeed ? alas ! bow may we then desire
its return. Her innocence, her childlike purity so endear her,
that I cannot think of losing her without a pang, though by
herself death would be hailed with joy."
3jl.zo::y GoOgllT
THE DATS OF BRUCE. 89
" Death oh, speak it not ; she mart not, she shall not die
jet t" fell from Sir Amiot's lips, in tones that at once deadened
the sadden elasticity with which a moment before Isoline's
spirit had leaped up. " She is a being so beautiful, so lova-
ble in her affliction oh ! who is there can look on her and not
love '! and to me oh, what is she not to me !"
He paused abruptly, conscious how contradictory and strange
his words must seem ; but it was too late, they were spoken,
though he would have given worlds to recall them. He
glanced on the face of Isoline, a grave inquiring look had
usurped the place of the playfulness resting there before ; he
felt its expression one almost of contempt, and his spirit abso-
lutely writhed beneath that self-inflicted pang, At that mo-
ment, perhaps fortunately for both, as neither seemed inclined
to renew the conversation, an officer spurred on from the
" There is mischief afoot, Sir Amiot !" he exclaimed. " Gave
not King Robert positive orders that neither city, castle, nor
convent should be injured, or even threatened in this northward
march ?"
" He did ; who has dared disobey ?" and Sir Amiot was
" once again the steady soldier, his whole attention given to his
charge.
" I scarcely know, .save that some of our men have observed
a band of marauding borderers hovering about these districts,
and overheard some intimation of an attack on the Convent of
Our Lady of Mount Carmel, lying somewhere is this direction.
There is smoke rising yonder, ana me thought sounds as of at-
tack and wailing were borne towards us on the wind. Will it
please you I should ride forward 1"
" Halt a moment, Fitz-Ernest ; my authority perchance will
be needed. Will it please you, lady, to accept the escort of
Sir Ronald St. Clair, and permit my riding forward ? it were
scarce safe for you to encounter this wild band, checked as they
will be in their pillage, and yet I must see to the maintenance
of the king's commands." The lady calmly signified her assent,
and Sir Amiot, hastily informing his colleague of his intention,
and entreating him to bring his fair charge leisurely forward to
their night quarters, which lay in the direction of the convent,
divided his band, and galloped forward with a hundred men.
It was rapidly approaching dusk, but some faint sounds of
90 THE DATS OF BRUCE.
tumult proved an unerring guide, until smoke and flames
marked the site of the village round the convent, which was
situated on one of the Cheviot Hills. The suddenness of Sir
Amiot's appearance, the strength and skill with which his
strong-armed band bore down on the border plunderers, speed-
ily forced them to give way, and compelled them at the sword's
point to acknowledge and give instant obedience to the written
mandate of the king. Leaving fifty of his men to endeavor to
quench the flames and keep the peace. Sir Amiot rushed up
the steep, informed by his prisoners below that their strongest
band was there employed in the sacking of the convent. The
oaken doors of the church had been broken down, and already
was there a rude band employed in tearing the gold and silver
ornaments from the shrines, with oaths and horrid laughter
desecrating that solemn edifice, accustomed only to the voice
of prayer. A moment sufficed for Sir Amiot to notice this, and
also that, grouped in various attitudes, stood, knelt, and
crouched the holy sisters around the altar, the abbess and one
or two others alone standing erect in lofty and undaunted com-
posure ; the former boldly addressing the rude plunderers, and
commanding them to desist, or dread the thunders of the
Church.
" Hold your reverend tongue, good mother of wisdom, and
let us to our work. We never molest unless we are molested,
so best let us work in peace."
" In peace, sacrilegious villains, aye, in such peace as King
Bobert grants to all such thieves I ' was the fierce and unex-
pected answer received, as, some on horseback, some on foot,
their iron heels clattering fearfully on the stone pavement. Sir
Amiot's loyal band rushed in. There was a brief, sharp strug-
gle ; but taken by surprise, conscious of their liability to the
severity of King Robert's law, most of the plunderers fled in
confusion, glad enough to escape tbe swords of their country-
men, or, what was perhaps worse to them, captivity. Some
fled to the mountains, others to the village, and there shared
the fate of their companions ; but in a very brief interval all
trace of their purpose was lost, save in the smoking ruins of the
hamlet, the disordered state of the church, many of whose
beautiful images lay shivered on tbe floor, and the still linger-
ing terror of the nuns, which neither the example nor the ex-
postulations of the abbess could in any degree assuage.
3jl.zo::y GoOgllT
THE DAYS OF BBUCK. 91
"Away, Sir Thomas Keith; take some of the men, and
search well round the convent. I fear me, those irreverent
ruffians will elude us yet, and do some further mischief. Place
a strict watch around, and do you, Walter, draw off the re-
maining men ; we do but terrify these holy ladies. I fear me
ye have suffered much, reverend mother," continued tbe young
knight, turning with respectful courtesy towards the altar, and
doffing his helmet ; " I pray you lay no blame to the score of
good King Robert ; this outrage is against his express com-
mands, and will draw down his just vengeance on its perpe-
trators."
" Nay, we ask not vengeance," replied the venerable abbess ;
" it is enough your courage, young man, and that of your com-
panions, under Him, whose instruments you are, has saved us
from this evil ; we have suffered merely the effects of terror,
which will speedily be calmed. Retire, my daughters, each
one to her cell, and pour forth your several thanksgivings, till
the church be once more ready to receive our general praise ;
surely we need it, for the mercy has been signal. Sister, you
are ill, overcome," she added, nastily, as a deep, heavy sigh,
almost a sob, was heard to escape from a tall, dignified-looking
female, closely veiled, and dressed in the black, shrouding robes
of those inmates of the convent who were under its rules and
discipline, though, from some unknown cause, had not taken
the vows. Tbe church was almost all in gloom, but the lamps
burning on the altar gave the knight a full view of this shrouded
figure, on whom his eyes had unconsciously been fixed, even
while the abbess spoke. Perceiving that her agitation, from
whatever cause it sprung, rather increased than diminished,
compelling her to seek the support of a seat, Sir Amiot, with
the kindly feeling peculiarly natural to him, new to seek some
water, and then it was the stranger raised her head, and find-
ing herself almost alone with the abbess, murmured in tones
that, though low, were absolutely thrilling in their richness
"The voice of my country, and in such sweet tones! oh,
holy mother, tby calm and gentle heart cannot know what they
are to me and the glance of that dark eye, though I could
see no other feature, oh, what could it be, to bring back memory
so vividly, till the dead seemed to rise again and live? Pity
me, pray for me, holy mother ; I knew not how weak my brain
bad grown."
^tiz^y Google
THE DAYS OF BBTJOB.
" Alas ! my daughter, thou hast borne so much, no marvel
that even so slight a thing as the voice of thy country should
unnerve thee now. Imprisoned so cruelly, imprisoned for s
feel bow much need thou hast for our prayers ; but our God
is merciful, my sister, trust in Him still."
The lady bowed her head in resignation, and Sir Amiot re-
turning at that instant, she accepted the courteously offered
draught with a silent but expressive gesture of thanks, then
rising, took the arm of one of the nuns, and slowly departed,
leaving Sir Amiot with his eyes still riveted upon her, he knew
not wherefore. He was aroused by the abbess again address-
ing him.
" We would fain offer you something more substantial than
mere thanks, young knight," she said. " I fear those ravagers
have done sad havoc among our poor people, yet perchance
there are still farmers enow to give your companions good fare
and lodging at our sole charge. We grieve that the rules of
our order prevent our offering yourself and your brother knights
the hospitality that inclination prompts ; but a few yards below
there, to the east of our convent gates, is a small fraternity of
monks, who will gladly give ye all ye heed."
Sir Amiot frankly accepted the hospitality so offered, adding,
that he would draw on her kindness yet more, by beseeching a
lodging in the convent for the ladies of whom he had the
haps likely to attempt some annoyance from their having been
so thwarted in their intended outrage. The abbess expressed
pleasure in having it in her power to afford this protection, and
the knight departed to dispatch a speedy messenger to Sir
Ronald St. Clair, telling him all that bad chanced, and desiring
him to conduct bis fair charge without delay to the convent,
which, only five miles from then- intended quarters, presented
a secure and comfortable asylum, well worth the additional
fatigue. The rank and name of the Lady Isoline, and also all
that was absolutely necessary to be imparted concerning the
peculiar situation of the Lady Agnes Bruce for she now only
bore her husband's name were told to the abbess, and Sir
Amiot sending forward his brothers-in-anns to the small mon-
= y Google
astery pointed out, himself mounted his horse and rode back
to meet his charge.
" Is my sister well enough to join us in the refectory, or will
she take her meal alone ?". inquired the abbess, entering the
chamber of the lady before mentioned, the effects of whoa*
emotion had prevented her joining the sisters in the general
thanksgiving which had been offered up directly after Sir
Amiot's departure.
" Nay, indulge not my weakness by the offer, holy mother,"
was the reply, with a calm, quiet smile ; " your wholesome
rules must not be infringed by me, who am in truth but your
prisoner."
" Say rather our esteemed and honored guest, despite the
fearful feuds between our several countries," answered the
abbess, gently. " We have taken little interest in this unhappy
war, save to pray God to direct and bless the right, whichever
side it be ; but for thee, my daughter, we can feel much. We
have guests, Scottish guests, this night, and therefore I would
fain spare thee further pain ; an thou canst look on them and
rk with them without emotion, be it so ; but an thou fearest
trial, remain here, with my blessing on thee still."
" I know not now how far I may trust myself, holy mother,"
replied the stranger ; " once I knew not the very name of weak-
ness, and could ever exercise control. But tell me, who may
be the Scottish guests ? I may perchance know them too well
for composure in their presence, and then I had beat be
absent."
" King Robert's niece, the Lady Isoline Campbell, with her
poor afflicted friend the Lady Agnes Bruce, and some three or
four attendants."
" Lady Agnes Bruce 1 Who, what is she ? I remember no
such name," the lady said, somewhat abruptly, starting up as
she spoke.
" The widow. Sir Amiot tells, of the youngest brother of
the Bruce, the beautiful and accomplished Nigel, one of the
earliest victims in this bloody war. Sancta Maria 1 my sister,
what have I said ?"
She might well ask, for the stranger had fallen back in her
chair, so utterly prostrated by sudden emotion, as with difficulty
to retain her senses, and recall them sufficiently for speech.
" And knowest thou who she was ere she became the wife
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94 THE DATS OF BRIJCB.
of Nigel t" she asked, in a low, gasping tone, laying her trem-
bling hand on the arm of the abbess. " No ; the knight did not
tell thee, then I will. The wife of the noble Nigel was the
Lady Agnes Comyn, daughter, sole daughter of Isabella of
Buchan the wretched, lonely Isabella."
" Alas ! alas ! my daughter, if it be so, how mayest thou
bear to hear of her affliction V responded the venerable abbess,
flinging her aged arms round the bowed and drooping form,
with an emotion little in accordance with her passionless fea-
tures and sacred function.
" Affliction what affliction 1 Id mercy tell me!"
Briefly and carefully as she could the abbess narrated all she
had heard from the knight. For a while the stranger listened
with that fearful calm of feature betraying intense mental suf-
fering, but gradually it softened, and tears felt fast and unre-
strainedly, and partially relieved her.
" I ought to be thankful for learning even this, for having
the agonized hopes and doubts of weary years solved even
thus," she said, "and I will after a brief while; but to think
on that mind overthrown that lovely, that angelic mind ; to
picture suffering such as hers, and apart from a mother's love !
Oh, holy mother, 'tis a bitter pang, and it must have way ;
but can I not see her, look on her?" she continued, clasping
her hands in sudden hope, then dropping them despairingly.
" Alas ! we have both forgotten the condition on which I am
here. What have I pledged myself to Edward ? tell we, oh,
tell me, for my brain refuses thought !"
" In truth I had forgotten it, my daughter, yet I know not
if it bear on this : to associate with no children of Scotland
who might by chance enter here, lest your person be discovered,
and force used on King Robert's part to give you freedom ; to
hold do communication, either personally or by the agency of
another, with your friends in Scotlaod ; to reveal yourself to
none, least measures be taken for your liberty, over which, in
the present distracted state of the kingdom, bis highness can
have no control. Indeed, I had forgotten this, holding you but
as a dear and cherished guest."
" But I must not forget it," replied the lady, with a dignity
of mien and firmness of tone which at once betrayed the men-
tal struggle was passed. " I may not hazard recognition.
The Lady Isoline was in truth but a child when we last met,
THE DAYS OF BBtTCE. 95
jet she may not have forgotten. And Agnes, my poor afflicted
one oh, no, no ! better sacrifice the longing wish to gaze once
more on her sweet face perchance I could not bear to feel
myself unknown, unrecognized by her her, my own ; but I
must not speak thus. Tell me, oh, tell me, where she sleeps.
I may look on her there, though tbe voice for which my heart
has so yearned may be silent, the light of those lovely eyes con-
cealed. It were indeed bliss to hear somewhat of my country,
of my king, my friends, to speak with Isoline but no, it must
not be, I will not think of it. Holy mother, let me but see my
Agnes when she sleeps, I ask no more."
" And thou shalt, thou shalt, my daughter ; would that I
might give thee more, but thou wouldst not take it were it
offered ; it were but torturing thy noble spirit, and tempting
thee to forget its pledge. I leave thee, daughter ; the Holy
Virgin. bless and comfort thee."
The lady bowed her head before her venerable friend, and
as the door closed on the retreating form, she sunk on her
knees in prayer. Oh, not with us is the power of touching on
the wild chaos of thought which she sought, in deep and lowly
earnestness, to pour before her God. We may not lift the veil
from that bleeding heart true, faithful, noble ; still rising
purer and purer, if possible, from every trial which bowed it
for the moment to the earth.
It was past midnight, and all in the convent was hushed ;
but there were thoughts at work in the heart of Isoline, banish-
ing sleep so effectually, as to cause a feeling almost of envy at
the quiet slumber soft, dreamless as a child's which closed
the eyes of Agnes. They shared the same apartment, but the
couch of Isoline occupied a recess, some distance from that of
Agnes, and almost concealed by drapery. Knowing they were
to depart early in the morning, Isoline had not entirely dis-
robed, and she now lay vainly courting repose, and, as is often
the case, her nerves so strung, that the least sound startled
them. She fancied a light footstep, traversed the chamber, in
a contrary direction to the usual door of entrance ; her heart
beat thick with undefined dread, but struggling with the feel-
ing, she sat up and looked round. A female figure was kneel-
ing beside the couch of the sleeping Agnes, shrouded in dra-
pery except her head, from which, as if in the eager haste of
her movement, the hood had fallen off, and exposed at once
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88 THE DAT8 OF BRUCE.
her expressive features, the peculiarly fine shape of her head,
sod the rich black hair, which even sorrow and care had not
yet touched with gray ; she was very much in shade, but still
there was something in the form of the head, in the attitude,
in the intensity of her gaze on the beautiful sleeper, that riveted
the attention of Isoline almost to pain. She watched her in-
tently, she saw her bend-over Agnes, and lightly removing the
long soft hair which partially concealed her face, looked upon
it with a depth, an intensity of love, that Isoline could not re-
mark unmoved ; minutes rolled hy, and still she moved not,
Sizing as if her eye would print those features on her heart,
ournfulness mingled with the love, as if there was a change
on that face only too visible, spiritualizing its expression, till it
seemed as if that gazer could scarce believe it a face of earth,
for once or twice she bent down anxiously, Isoline fancied to
listen if she breathed. Her lips were pressed lightly on the
brow, cheek, and lips of the sleeper, and her form shook as
with the effort to restrain a sob, and then she bent her head on
her hands as she knelt, and Isoline knew that she was weeping.
A sudden thought becoming conviction on tbe instant it
flashed before her caused Isoline to spring from her couch
and dart across the chamber, till she stood close beside that
kneelipg form ; but she was unobserved, unheard, and she could
not speak to disturb that holiness of love. Again the stranger
rose, again she looked on Agnes, and pressed her lips to her
brow, and lingered, as if she had not strength to turn away,
then, as with a powerful effort, she moved hastily from the
couch, and her full face and form were exposed to tbe eyes of
Isoline ; the stranger started and endeavored to draw her hood
closely over ber features, but with all the enthusiasm of her
nature, Isoline in an instant had flung herself before her, had
clasped ber knees, exclaiming, in tones only checked from fear
of disturbing the sleeper, " Ob, do not leave me, lady, without
one word ; my mother's friend friend of my whole race, of my
country speak to me. Ob, what joy to my sovereign to
know that we have met I"
The Countess of Buchan for wherefore should we conceal
that it was her ? hastily and affectionately raised the maiden,
then clasping her in a warm embrace, gently led her further
from the couch of Agnes, and said, " Thy memory is better
than I deemed it, my sweet Isoline. I believed thou, too,
^tiz^y Google
THE DATS OF BKBOE. 97
hadst slept, or even the blessing of gazing on my child had
been denied me."
" Denied thee," repeated Isoline ; " alas ! wherefore ? Why,
if they told thee we were here, didst thou not seek us before ?
But thou wilt away with us, wilt thou not? thou wilt not rest
here ? Oh, why dost thou look so sad ? is it impossible art
thou still a prisoner ? it cannot be."
" My child, 'tis even so ; my word has passed, and were
King Robert and all his kingdom before these convent gates,
they could not give me freedom, tiU Edward says ' be free.' I
may not hold commune with thee, Isoline, blessed as 'twould
be. I have heard that Robert is indeed a king ; that, my be-
loved Scotland is free. I have seen my child, my own sweet
Agnes, and I must ask no more. I have pledged myself to
shun all intercourse with the children of my country ; and oh,
my sweet girl, thou must not tempt me with those pleading
looks, I am not what I was."
" But force of arms, of victory the whole north of England
hath bowed itself at King Robert's feet ; can he not claim thee,
then, as his lawful prize ?"
" Alas ! no, my child, for it is against such a contingency my
word has been pledged ; without thus revealing myself, King
Robert nor any of my friends could know my retreat. More
than once already my residence^ has been changed, because of
visits, either in peace or war, from the Scotch, and that Ed-
ward has either doubted my word or imagined chance might
effect my discovery. There are rumors of another change,
but earnestly I trust they have- no foundation, for I have met
with wanner spirits, kindlier feelings here, than I dared hope
for or expect."
" Then my uncle, my mother even, may not know of this.
Oh, do not burden me with such a secret, lady," entreated the
ardent Isoline, clinging closer to her. " Oh, you know not
how we love thee still ; how all in King Robert's court and
camp pronounce with reverence thy name ; how tliy bold deed
hath marked tbee foremost midst tbe first and noblest of our
country's patriots. The very rumor that thy cruel thraldom is
at an end, that at least thou art comparatively at peace and
rest from all torture save restraint, would be such blessing to
so many."
" Would it, indeed, my Isoline ? am I still thus remembered,
VOL. II. 5
98 THE DAYS OF BRUCE.
or is it but thine own loving heart that speaks ? Ob, thou hast
indeed blessed me with these words ; they will cheer my deso-
late heart; they will picture brighter dreams than I dared to
look on, even at the thought of freedom. But I must not,
dare not linger, sweet one, though ray full heart knows not
how to tear itself from thee and from my Agnes my own, my
Erecious child, and now, aks ! my only one." Her voice, which
ad breathed more hope, more happiness in her first words
than she herself could have believed possible from so slight a
cause, sunk with the last so painfully, that it seemed as if days
not years had passed away since her supposed bereavement.
Isoline .started ; was she not aware of her son's existence, or
did she speak thus, discarding him from her affections on ac-
count of his treachery, his alienation from bis country ? was
patriotism indeed so much stronger than maternal love ? She
looked on the face of the countess, and felt it could not be.
Something on her countenance aroused her companion's atten-
tion, and convulsively grasping her hand, she wildly eiclaimed,
" Isoline, Isoline, thou knowest something of my boy ! Oh,
speak to me, in mercy ! he is with King Robert he is not
" With King Robert alas ! no, dearest lady. But hast thou
not heard have they not told thee 1"
"Heard told me torture me not by these meaningless
words 1 say but that he lives."
" Tis said, indeed, be lives, sweet lady, not for Scotland
now, but as the petted minion of King Edward, the most
devoted of that monarch's court."
" Isoline, they speak false !" replied tbo countess, in a tone
that, suppressed as it was, almost electrified the hearer, it was
so changed from the desponding sorrow of a minute before ;
" they speak false ! my boy is dead, an this is all thou knowest ;
they have sought before to pour such poison in my ear, but I
heeded them not, for I know that it is false. My child is dead,
slain by a father's mandate, and thus, thus would he conceal
his crime, and stain my angel Alan's name. And thou tellest
me this thou, daughter of Isabella's dearest friend, niece of
him to whom my boy, with tears of shame at his line's disgrace,
did swear his faith. Oh, how may it be my name is rever-
enced as thou sayest, and yet this foul tale believed V
" Not by King Robert, lady ; he holds it false, believing it
THE BAYS OP BEUOE. 99
as thyself a base invention framed to hide a father's crime, or
else that force not love compels the course of action be
pursues."
"And blessings on him for that thought !" resumed the
countess, softened almost to tears ; " bat no force would com-
pel him thus. Perpetual imprisonment, chains, torture, death,
would rather be his choice, and it has been ; for he is dead, 1
know that he is dead," and her head for a moment sunk on the
shoulder of her deeply sympathizing companion. " This must
not be," she said at length. "It is sad to feel how utterly my
mental strength has gone ; it is well for me thou only art its
witness, Isoline. Love me, pray for me, sweet girl ; we may
meet perchance in happier times, unless, indeed, my freedom
be effected by a higher king than Robert, and my spirit job
my child's. I need not bid thee love md cherish my poor
Agnes thou must, or thou wouldst leave her to other care
than thine."
" Dear to me, cherished, tended as my own sister she is,
sweet lady; aye, has been and will be, while she lives ; trust
me for her," replied Isoline fervently.
" I do trust thee, my child, aye, and bless thee for that love.
May heaven's choicest blessing shield you both I" she folded
Isoline fondly to her bosom as she spoke. " And now fare-
well ; forget that we have met, yet love me, dearest, till we meet
" And the king," inquired Isoline, gently detaining her, as
she turned again to the couch of her child, " must he indeed
know naught of this ? He deems thee still enthralled in Ber-
wick's cage, and grieves that one who did for him so much
should still pkie 'neath such tyranny,"
The countess paused in thought.
" Let him not grieve for this, at length she said, " nor spend
his strength in the vain hope of reducing Berwick's impreg-
nable fortress for my release. Tell him, an thou wilt, that we
have met, that I am in comparative peace, but bound by
stronger chains than iron to remain a prisoner till he effect my
liberation by other means than force ; yet let it not be publicly
said that I am here, for my instant change of abode will be
the consequence, and that would give me pain. Now, once
more farewell, dearest. Speak of me to thy mother, tell her
I love her still."
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100 THE DATB OF BRUCE.
She gently withdrew herself from Isoline's passionate em-
brace, and bent once again over Agnes, who still slept calmly,
undisturbed by those whispering voices ; again she printed a
long, light kiss on that pale, beautiful brow, and, without ven-
turing another glance, glided from the chamber silently as she
CHAPTER VI.
A bustling scene to the quiet inmates of the convent did
the courtyard of our Lady of Mount Carmel present soon after
dawn the following morning. Sir Amiot had drawn up his
men in marching array, ready to do honor to his fair charge,
and their glittering spears and radiant armor, their waving
plumes and flying banners, the prancing and neighing chargers,
all presented a scene of life, which its extreme novelty rendered
peculiarly charming. Sir Amiot had suggested that a band of
fifty picked men, under an experienced officer, should remain
quartered in tbe village, lest the border plunderers should
return, a suggestion the abbess gratefully accepted, herself and
several of the elder sisters escorting the Lady Isoline and her
companions to tbe gateway, where their palfreys stood. Eagerly
Sir Amiot scanned the holy sisters, longing, he knew not where-
fore, to look once more on the shrouded figure whose agitation
had been so marked, but he saw her not. As his band wheeled
slowly round the mountain, and he himself tarried, helmet in
hand, to speak some courteous parting words to the abbess,
his farewell bow was slightly disturbed in its grace by his eye
catching, or fancying that it caught, that same noble form at
an upper window, watching the progress of the soldiers. The
question, " Who is she V hovered on his lips, but he checked
it as an idle curiosity, and galloped after his men.
The remainder of their journey to Berwick passed without
incident. The Lady Isoline appeared little inclined for conver-
sation, and kept closer to the litter or palfrey of Agnes, and Sir
Amiot, though burning with impatience to clear himself in her
eyes from all appearance of mystery or inconsistency, felt the
impossibility of so doing too painfully, to venture intruding on
her presence or attention unasked, and therefore little or no
gtizocsy G00gle
'IKE DATS OF BRUCE. 101
conversation of any moment passed between them, and their
further progress to Berwick was about as unsatisfactory, in
consequence of this mutual reserve, as may well be imagined.
All was military bustle around Berwick. Operations had
already begun, though it was rumored that King Robert, per-
ceiving the immense strength and impregnability of the fortress,
somewhat hesitated as to the wisdom of wasting time and force
on its reduction. That the Countess of Buchan waa still sap-
posed to be imprisoned there was the greatest if not the only
cause of the king's determination to pursue the siege. The
cage was still visible from the turret; but though it appeared
empty, it was generally believed throughout the army that the
countess had been only removed to mislead her friends, and
cause them to raise the siege, and in all probability she waa
still in the same fortress, but in a more secluded prison.
Much surprised, then, were the troops when, about a fort-
night after Sir Amiot and his charge rejoined them, the king
publicly announced his determination to give up Berwick, at
least for the present, send the greater part of his army to the
aid of Sir Edward Bruce, who, returning successful from levy-
ing the Irish tribute, was then engaged in reducing every
English-garrisoned fortress in Scotland to obedience, and march
himself in a southwesterly direction to the sea-shore, where the
galleys, sent by his brother, awaited him for the proposed ex-
pedition against the Isle of Man, whose governor, a branch of
the hated house of Lorn, had several years previous treacher-
ously and basely betrayed two brothers of the Bruce, Thomas
and Alexander, into the hands of Edward.
Douglas had been successful in forcing Carlisle to terms,
compelling its seneschal to pledge himself to peace with Robert,
and make no disturbance when the Scottish troops marched
southward. On these conditions he was permitted to retain
his office, and the castle remained nominally Edward's. This
accomplished, Douglas was to march his troops northward, at
the same time that the king proceeded south, meet him at the
destined port, and proceed with him to the Isle of Man. Isoline
and Agnes, under the care of Randolph, were to return to
Scotland.
The real, though secret cause of the king's determination to
leave Berwick had been confided in a small, private council of
the highest nobles and warriors of his realm, at which, strange
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102 TOE DAYS OF IlKl'CK.
to say, the Lady Isoline was present. Nothing, however, pub-
licly transpired, except the fact of their return to Scotland, a
determination occasioning a disappointment to some of the
most ardent, who had looked to nothing less than the complete
downfall of Berwick, although the more numerous were satisfied
that if King Robert's resolution, it must be a wise one. Sir
Amiot, however, who had vat been one of the above-mentioned
council, being absent on some temporary mission from the Mng,
on his return appeared so thunderstruck by the intelligence as
to occasion the extreme surprise of his companions. Seeking
the monarch's tent, he told him he had resolved to ride round
the walls of the fortress, attended only by his page; ask a
question, and receive an answer of the principal warder, and
on his knee he besought the king to grant hira permission for
the accomplishment of his wish. Robert remonstrated, gently
reproved the knight-errantry of the engagement as tending
more to foolhardihood than real courage, but was at length
compelled to yield, convinced, by the earnest manner of the
knight, that some important though unexplained cause origi-
nated his resolve.
Great was the excitement this decision of Sir Amiot occa-
sioned, particularly among his immediate colleagues, ardent
and far more joyous than himself, many of whom longed to
share his risk ; but there was one person in the camp to whom
it was a subject of most serious alarm.
" Can it be, that the wise, the moderate, the prudent Cheva-
lier of the Branch Is about to risk his life thus foolishly?" was
the unexpected address of the Lady Isoline Campbell to Sir
Amiot, as they chanced to meet in the sovereign's tent.
" Trust me, noble lady, my life, worthless as it is, save to
her whose liberty I seek, is in no danger ; yet do not scorn my
grateful thanks for thy gentle counsel," replied Sir Amiot, in a
tone that, despite all her efforts to the contrary, thrilled only
too softly on her heart. " I told thee, noble lady, I looked to
Berwick for the fulfilment of my hopes, the restoration of the
prisoner I seek, and in that, restoration of my name. Can I
see these hopes prostrated, crushed by this unexpected resolu-
tion of his highness, without one effort, even if it risk my life or
liberty, to have them solved ? Oh, lady, thou knowest not
Amiot, an thou thinkest this could be."
" And how may this wild plan assist thee?" inquired Isoline,
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THE DAYS OF BEUCE. 103
with a softened expression in feature and tone, which gave
him courage to proceed.
" I know not in truth, I cannot know ; but it is worth the
trial. Ob, if she he still there, still the prisoner of Edward's
wrath, night and day will I kneel before King Robert, beseech-
ing him to turn not from this spot till yon proud citadel he
gained, or its prisoners delivered up ransomless and free. If
she be not," his voice sunk into utter despondency, " then I must
turn again onto my weary path, hoping against hope, striving
against time ; knowing so little of her fate, that I may be seek-
ing one who is not, dreaming of one who will never bless me
more."
" Nay, an so much depend on thy adventure of to-morrow,"
replied Isoline, kindly, " go, and God speed thee ! remember
only, (hy life is not thine own to fling away as nothing worth.
E'en if the prisoner thou seekest be not here, she may still be
elsewhere."
" Dost thou, canst thou feel interest in that life ?" murmured
the knight, bending his dark eyes upon her, with an expression
which at the moment she felt she dared not meet. " Oh, lady,
an thou dost, e'en were this hope void and vain as many an-
other, life were still not all a desert it hnd still one dream of
joy."
" Sir Amiot, replied the lady, so calmly and firmly, that
every half-rising hope shrunk back at once, " I listen not to
such words, meaningless and void as they must be, with this
mystery still clinging round you. I would believe you honest
as you seem, noble and single-minded as you are faithful to
King Robert, and gallant in his cause ; give me not occasion to
change this opinion by a renewal of words, which are somewhat
too seriously spoken for mere gallantry, and yet can mean
nothing else. I honor your devotion to an injured and impris-
oned one ; I could have wished to believe that one alone the
object of your devotion, but I have by chance heard words ad-
dressed to and witnessed emotion occasioned by another which,
increasing the mystery around you, compels me to feel that
even were my conclusions wrong concerning the object of your
vow, there is yet another existing cause which prohibits my
listening to such words. I would feign believe you intend no
insult, naught that could awaken indignation and displeasure on
my part ; that they are mere words of courtesy, somewhat too
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104 THE DATS OF BKUCE.
highflown perchance for our relative positions, but an my favor
be worth preserving, speak them not again."
She bowed slightly, perchance haughtily, and passed on ; her
beautiful form more proudly erect, her fair cheek slightly flush-
ing, but giving no other bodily sign to contradict the calm and
steady self-possession of her words. Sir Amiot stood bewil-
dered, scarcely comprehending, and certainly not composed
enough calmly to analyse sentences, whose sole effect appeared
to be to dash down hopes, of whose very existence and whose
powerful extent he was scarcely and certainly not at all con-
scious before.
The next sunset found Sir Amiot of the Branch in his tent ;
his adventure so gallantly yet so coolly performed, as to awaken
the admiration not alone of his own friends but of the English
on the walls, whose surprise at his daring paralyzed their arms,
and permitted him almost an unmolested course. It was a
deed in the very spirit of the age ; both citizens and garrison
looked on in stupefied amaze, as, armed cap-a-pie, his lance in
rest, and followed by his daring page, holding aloft his master's
banner, with the same bearing as his shield the blighted
branch he slowly and deliberately made the circuit of the
castle walls, directly under the darts and arrows of the soldiers,
several of which struck his armor and bounded from it as if the
steel were in truth invulnerable, and the knight bore a charmed
life. He neared the drawbridge, was seen to halt before the
warder's tower, spoke some brief words to that officer, but in
a tone too low for the spectators of either side to distinguish
their sense, though they observed with alarm that a band of
English soldiers were silently and cautiously advancing, as if to
surprise and surround him. The knight looked round him with
a calm and proud smile, bowed courteously to the warder, and
passed on, so utterly un intimidated by the foes gathering
around him, as to awaken a shout of applause both from Eng-
lish and Scotch, and loud and fierce was the command of the
English governor to the closing troop to bear back, and give
the brave knight way.
Shouts and gratulations received him in bis own camp ; hia
companions crowded round him, eager to give him the meed of
admiration, which in their young chivalric breasts had no shade
of envy. Each troop shouted joyously as he passed, and even
the king himself felt it almost impossible to preserve his grave
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THE DATS OF BRCCE. 105
disapproval of the erratic deed. It was some time before Sir
Amiot could break from his companions and seek the rest and
quiet of hia own tent, which even in the midst of that excite-
ment, he seemed to crave ; and when he was there alone with
his page, all animation fled, leaving in its stead a sinking despon-
dency, which hia brave companions would have found it difficult
to solve. For some time the page removed his armor in silence,
but then, finding his master made uo effort to rally, he cheer-
fully exclaimed
" Do not despond, my dear master ; rather rejoice that my
beloved lady is removed from that horrible confinement, that
though still a prisoner, she may be in comparative peace and
comfort."
" But how may I know this, Malcolm ? True, I should rejoice
that at least she is no longer incarcerated where that tyrant Ed-
ward placed her, six years ago ; but bow may I rest secure as
to her comfort ? May it not be that because Berwick is now
bo near triumphant Scotland, her prisons are changed, but not
their severity ? She may he in equal suffering elsewhere."
" Hardly, my lord ; there cannot be two such horrible places
of confinement in England, particularly when we know this was
erected by the tyrant's brutal policy expressly for her. No,
trust me, if Edward has had pity enough to remove her from
here, it is to place her in some more comfortable asylum, per-
chance even with Queen Margaret."
" But where, oh, where ?" repeated his master, sadly.
" Such thought does but lengthen the line of separation ; for
until the king can ransom those captives whose rank will only
make Edward more tenacious of their persons, she, too, must
languish a prisoner, and I can in nowise shorten that captivity.
Better bad she been still a captive in some northern castle,
where my own right arm might give her freedom ; and so she
may be still, and yet concealed from me and still, still, my
hope is rain."
"Nay, an thou tbinkest thus, my lord, and sayest, did a
northern castle contain her, thine own right arm should gain
her freedom, give me but leave of absence from the camp for a
brief while, and trust me, an she be in the north of England, be
it castle, prison, or convent, I will find her."
" Convent !" repeated his master, starting up, as if under the
influence of some sudden thought. " Malcolm, Malcolm, have
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106 THE DATS OF BBCOE.
I been such an idiot, a bunded, witless fool, as to be in her pres-
ence and not know it can it be ? no, no, it is impossible !'
" In heaven's name ! my lord, what mean you ?" exclaimed
the page, astounded at such unlooked-for and mysterious emo-
tion. " In her presence, and not know it ? oh, tis impossible.
When where bow could it be ?"
A few hurried words sufficed for the ready-witted boy to
understand to whom the knight alluded, although he combated
the fancy as impossible ; however veiled and shrouded she
might be, he declared his master must have known her. In
vain Sir Amiot urged he bad seen not a feature, heard not a
tone of her voice, and with his firm conviction that sbe was still
in Berwick, it was more than possible be had failed to recog-
nize her. Malcolm still seemed to think the fancy too vague for
Sir Amiot's first impulse was to beseech the king's per-
mission to retrace his steps, instead of accepting the honorable
commission offered in his homeward march ; yet, as his page
wisely alleged, what good could that possibly effect? It was
far better for him (Malcolm) to leave the camp, and, commen-
cing with the Couventof Mount Carmel, leave no stone unturned
to discover her retreat. Left to his own measures, he assured
Sir Amiot he could discover infinitely more than were he in
company with others. He was certain, were she in any part of
the north of England, however closely concealed or strictly
guarded, he would find her out, and so watch the movements
of her keepers as to leam every minutiae concerning her present
fate and future destination. That done, it would be time for
Sir Amiot to lay down his plans for her liberation, or at least
the alleviation of her captivity ; till then, bis master had much
better remain where the favor of the king had placed him, and
not give rise to any remark by even hinting a desire to leave
the camp. The boy spoke so well and earnestly. Sir Amiot
felt he could advance little against his argument, and conscious
he boasted not a tittle more than he really could perform, con-
sented to give him the leave of absence he demanded, and con-
jured him in God's name to do all he said speedily as might
be. A definite period for his absence Malcolm could not or
would not name ; he would rejoin Sir Amiot, without fail, as
won as he had obtained the necessary intelligence, or at least
obtained some clue, however slight, to her destination ; more
)3i K:: , Google
he might not promise, and Sir Amiot felt satisfied, for be knew
that, next to himself, the liberation of ibis important prisoner
was dear to Malcolm. The following morning the page was to
depart ; bat ere that night closed, even this engrossing subject
fled for the time being from Sir Amtot's mind.
A large party of knights and noblemen supped that evening
in King Robert's tent, and many a jest mingling with graver
topics enlivened the festive hour. The king's seat, almost im-
bedded in the thick tapestried curtain that lined the canvas-
covering of the tent, was divided several paces from the larger
board, round which the more numerous of his warrior guests
were congregated. Lennox and about five others of the senior
noblemen, with two or three of his favorite knights, not amount-
ing to more than ten altogether, shared the monarch's private
table, five on either band, and thus leaving an open space for
him to look over his other guests, and sometimes join tbdr con-
verse. Sir Amiot, detained somewhat later than the rest by
bis exciting conversation with his page, had Liken his seat at
the bottom of the second table, which was exactly facing the
king's seat, and commanding a clear view of the thick curtains
behind it. On bis way to the pavilion he had observed a dark
shadow hovering, or rather crouching down outside, on a spot
just answering to the sovereign's seat within, but believing it
Robert's favorite hound, who often ensconced himself there,
between the canvas and the lining, he passed on without further
notice. He had not been long seated at table, however, before
he fancied there was some movement in the tapestried folds,
which could scarcely be occasioned by the wind, slill he thought
of the dog, and believed the movement proceeded from the ani-
mal's endeavoring to extricate himself from his retreat. A sud-
den bark, not two paces from him, however, proved the fallacy
of the idea, for there was King Robert's hound close beside
him, endeavoring, as it seemed, to arrest his attention. The
shadow, then, which he saw, could scarcely have been the dog,
and Sir Amiot, spite of himself, felt strangely startled ; still he
shrunk from noticing such slight signs aloud, for define what he
saw or imagined was impossible. Presently the dog darted up
the tent to the king's side, barking and restless, and furious
when attempts were made to remove him from that one par-
ticular spot. For a while the king endeavored to soothe and
pacify him, but that not succeeding, and annoyed at the ani-
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108 THE DAYS OF BKUCE.
mal's pertinacity, ho desired one of the attendants to take him
from the tent, a proceeding not effected without difficulty.
His attention yet more awakened by this incident, Sir Amiot
still kept his eye fixed on the drapery, but for so long a time
after Bruin's retreat without discovering any movement, that
he believed he had been merely under a delusion, and turned
again to the board. Not long after, he was certain a gleam of
steel flashed on his eye, proceeding, he could have sworn, from
that same drapery, which again slightly moved ; neither the
king nor any of his immediate companions were in armor, and
there certainly was nothing near them to have caused that sud-
den flash. With a silent but irresistible impulse, Sir Amiot
quietly glided from his seat, and passing along the folds of the
inner drapery, stood on the left hand of the king, nearly con-
cealed by the curtain, almost before his absence from the table
was discovered. .It was well he did so, another moment, sur-
rounded though he was by his faithful subjects, dreaming
naught of treachery, closely shrined by hearts who would will-
ingly have died for him, yet even then Robert the Bruce would
have fiillen beneath an assassin's hand, and the foul murderer
escaped. Sir Amiot had moved with silence and caution, not
alone to prevent observation on the part of his companions, but
the better to watch the movement of the curtain, that if treach-
ery did indeed lie ambushed there, it might not take fright at
his vicinity, and escape ere its extent was ascertained, ft was
a daring plan, relying so much on his own single arm and per-
sonal address but the knight knew bis own power ; he stood
so completely between the king and the drapery, that no blow
could reach Robert except through him and tbe blow came.
A dagger flashed in the air and fell, but, checked violently in
its downward path by the bright sword of Sir Amiot, it snapped
in two, the blade hurled violently across the king's table, giving
the first sign, the first intelligence of tbe imminent danger the
sovereign had escaped, followed instantly by the loud voice of
the knight, " Ha ! traitorous villain, thinkest thou to escape
me ?" a fierce though momentary struggle, and a powerful
form, clad from head to foot in mail, for bis shrouding cloak
was torn aside, was flung violently to the ground, the knee of
Sir Amiot was on his breast, the voice of the knight bidding
him avow his treachery and die. In an instant all was wild
uproar ; nobles and (mights sprung simultaneously to their feet,
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THE DATS OF BKUCE. 108
their swords gleaming in their hands, execrations on their lips ;
the whole camp wild with confusion. The king alone, though
startled, preserved his undaunted composure.
" Peace, peace '." he exclaimed, waiving his hand to com-
mand control ; " we are safe, uninjured, thanks to my brave
Amiot, though how be came so close to us at such a critical
moment, by my kingly faith, I know not. Give way there !
Unhelm the villain we should know that form."
He was obeyed on the instant. Still prostrate, motionless,
as if the failure of bis desperate deed had been attended with a
complete suspension of sense, the mailed figure lay beneath the
knee of his captor. The helmet rudely and hastily unclasped,
rolled off, disclosing features of a ghastly paleness indeed, but
whose swarthy hue, expression coarse, almost to brutality, and
black bristly beard and hair could belong to one alone. With
a wild, shrill cry, which at another moment would have turned
the attention of every one upon him. Sir Amiot sprung to his
feet as if a dagger had pierced his heart, his poniard dropped
from his nerveless grasp, his brain turned giddy, and a strong
effort alone prevented his falling to the ground; he staggered
back, till he found temporary support against one of the posts
of the tent, and there stood, his eyes glaring on the prisoner, so
changed from the Amiot of a minuLe before, as if some spell
had turned htm into stone ; but so great was the excitement of
the moment, and startling to all the identity of the prisoner,
that the strange emotion of the knight was unremarked.
Raised from the ground, his arms strongly pinioned, and so
surrounded that escape was utterly impossible, they placed the
prisoner before the Bruce, on whose noble brow the dark, ter-
rible frown of wrath and hate was gathering ; but dark as was
his look, yet darker, fiercer was that of the foiled assassin ; for
not alone was it hate, undying, quenchless bate, but despair,
the fell despair of hate and murder foiled.
" 'Tis even as I thought. Earl of Buchan, we have met
again," said the Bruce, speaking in those slow, suppressed tones
terrible to all who heard, for they knew the fierce struggle that
was at work within. " Man of guilt and blood, was it not
enough to hind thine hirelings to a deed of midnight murder
enough, that twice, thrice, nay, seven tiroes, a gracious Provi-
dence stretched out His arm 'twixt me and them, and proved
how weak is guilt ? Could this not satisfy thee, but thine own
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110 THE DATS OF BRUCE.
mind must essay the murderer's steel, thine own mind frame an
act of murder ? Ob, thou hast done well ! Nobles and knights
will henceforth be tried in the light of John Comyn, Earl of
Buchan ; an they possess his knightly and noble qualities,
the loudest voice of fame and chivalry must needs be sat-
isfied."
"Deemest thou so bounded was the Comyn's hate, that
aught of what men term fame and honor could weigh against
it?' replied the prisoner, gloomily. " Kobert of Camck, I
thought you had known men better. Didst dream, because
some score of hirelings failed to accomplish the deed of death,
Comyn of Buchan would swerve from the hate which, stronger
than any vow, bound him to thy destruction ? Murder nay,
an thus thou speakest, I have learned the trade from thee."
" Away with the sacrilegious villain away with the mur-
derous traitor I" shouted many eager voices, and there was a
rush as if to drag him from the tent, but at a sign from the
king they paused.
" Nay, let his idle words have vent, my friends," he said.
"The Bruce would have given his head to Edward's axe ere
he would have secured his safety by the treacherous murder
of his foe. To you I need scarce say this ; then what evil can
that bold bad man's insinuations do '! No, an it give him
pleasure, let him rail on."
" Pleasure !" repeated the imprisoned earl, with a scowl and
tone of concentrated hate.' " Ye have foiled me in the dream
of years, the vision which has been the only bright gleam of
my existence thy death thou hated foe of the house of Co-
myn; for this I bade them report me dead. I hid myself
from roan to brood on this, to arm my followers against thee,
and bid them die accursed if they failed ; for this I have hov-
ered round thy path, well-nigh lashed to madness, when weeks,
months rolled on, and found me still seeking that which the
veriest chances seemed determined to deny me. To-night, to-
night I would have done it, aye, in the midst of thy proud
court, thy mock parade of royalty : who would have saved
thee ? Murderer, thou wouldst have fallen ; ten thousand
curses light on him who stood between me and my revenge I"
A low convulsive groan, as wrung from the very depth of
agony, filled up the pause which followed these words. Men
knew not, traced not whence it came, for their spirits were still
)3i K:: , Google
THE DATS OF BRUCE. Ill
wider too great an excitement for such a slight sound to be
remarked.
"Murderer the name is threefold thine," replied the Bruce,
calmly. " Villain, where is thy son, the brave and noble boy
whose only crime was loving Scotland and his sovereign better
than his race ? What hast thou done with him ? lieth not his
murder at thy door, and darest thou speak of blood ill shed ?"
"Aye; for on him I did no murder," 'replied the earl,
bluntly and freely ; " the boy was wise, and chose honor nod
life and a monarch's favor rather than perpetual chains. Look
to thyself, thou upstart shadow of a sovereign ; his father's
vow is in keeping he hath learnt the hate and claims of
Comyn."
" False, false 'tis false aa hell !" was slowly and distinctly
uttered by some one within the tent, but none knew or traced
by whom.
" Aye, by my kingly faith, I still believe it false, and would
say thou liest, base traitor !" resumed the king, sternly. " But
wherefore bandy words with such as thee ? Thy hate to our-
self we pardon, but not thy treachery to Scotland. Away with
him ! to-morrow's dawn he dies."
There was no need for a second bidding; with a fierce yell
of triumph and detestation, they dragged him from the pres-
ence of their sovereign. They stripped him of his armor,
loaded him with chains, and, with a strong guard both within
and around the tent which served them for a prison, left him
to his meditations.
"And where is our brave preserver, our gallant and faithful
Amiot? We have been detained only too long from acknowl-
edging our grateful feeling of his loyal service. We would
fain know how he was at our side when most needed ; a minute
before, metholight we pledged him at the board where is the
gallant knight ?" So spoke King Robert, when some degree
of order was restored within the tent, but Sir Amiot had dis-
appeared.
To allay the clamor and excitement which the news of this
providential escape from assassination created in the camp,
King Robert mounted his horse, and, all unarmed as he was,
slowly rode through the. several ranks which had gathered un-
der their respective leaders to receive him. Nothing could
have given them a stronger proof of his own utter fearlessness
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112 THE DATS OF BBUCtt.
of any further lurking treachery, or a more gratifying sign of
his perfect confidence in their love and devotion as his dearest
safeguard from such treasonous attacks ; they thronged round
him as he appeared, making the night eloquent with their rude
yet heartfelt cheers of love and gratulation.
Deeply moved by these heart-stirring manifestations of a
people s love, it was only when seated iu the quiet and solitude
of his private pavilion near midnight, he found leisure to re-
member that he had not remarked Sir Amiot amongst the
groups of officers he had passed, and he was rising to make
some inquiry concerning him from an esquire in the ante-cham-
ber, when the missing knight himself stood before him.
"At length, my noble Amiot!" exclaimed the monarch,
springing up and grasping his hand, despite tbe young man's
resistance ; " where and wherefore hast thou been hidden these
long hours, letting my gratitude lie on my heart till it has well-
nigh choked me ? Shame on thee ! knowest thou Scotland
owes to thee a king and Bruce a life ?"
" Nay, good my liege, my lowly service demands not any
spoken gratitude ; my thanks are to heaven, that I was His
selected instrument in thus preserving thy most precious life ;
but for aught else, my noble sovereign, speak not of thanks :
that thou art saved, uninjured, is enough, oh, more than
enough 'tis blessedness for Amiot ! What had I been in this
camp without thee ?"
"What? why a noble soldier still," replied the sovereign,
joyously. " Did I make thee the gallant warrior, the prudent
counsellor, the able general thou art ? No, Amiot, no ; thine
own good qualities tave won thee love and estimation in the
camp, aye, and still more, in Robert's breast ; and now, be-
cause that is not enough, an Scotland loves me as she would
manifest, and we would fain believe, why, she owes thee a debt
of gratitude she never can repay ; for, by my faith, hadst thou
not been beside me, that one moment had been my last. And
what, in heaven's name, brought thee there, so coolly and
calmly shielding us from tbe villain that the danger was un-
known till it was passed 1"
Sir Amiot related the signs be had witnessed, and the sus-
picions they had occasioned, acknowledging that be was so lit-
tle conscious of the actual danger which threatened, that he
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THE DATS OF BKTTCE. 113
scarcely knew how lie had warded off the blow, or how ob-
tained possession of tbe murderer.
" And my poor hound would have warned me, had I listened
to him," mused the king, patting the faithful animal's noble
head, as he lay crouched by hb side. " Bruin, Bruin, canst
thou forgive me?"
The dog licked his hand, as in mute reply, and the king
continued
"Ah, that's well ; and now, Amiot, what ails theet Thou
hast something on thy heart, something that grieves, or at best
torments thee ; thou hast told a tale that at another time would
have lighted up that dark eye of thine with living fire, and
made thy voice ring out with animation, and now thine eye is
dull, and thy voice is grave. What ails thee, boy ? Speak
not to the king, but as to thy friend, thy father, if thou list."
" In truth, there is a weight upon my heart, most gracious
sovereign, and one thou only canst remove," replied the knight,
in a low, suffocated tone, and sinking on his knee.
"Name it then, mine Amiot, in heaven's name! it were a
relief to feel I could do aught for thee, for truly my debt to
thee is heavy, even forgetting the service of this evening. What
wouldst thou ? surely it needs not thy knee up, and speak to
me as friend to friend."
" Oh, pardon me, my sovereign, I cannot rise ! my knee is a
fit posture for a boon like mine, and one, whose very origin I
may not speak. In truth, I came a suppliant, and of a boon
so weighty, my tongue shrinks from its speech."
" Nay, that may be, and yet the boon be not so very weighty,
my modest Amiot," replied the king, encouragingly. " Thou
thinkest so much of the very smallest kindness, that truly I
believe thy mental vision magnifies every action save thine
"No, no judge me not now by the past," said the knight,
in a tone of intense suffering. " My liege, my liege, I come to
ask that which all Scotland will nse up to deny, which every
private and public feeling as a man, as a king, will call on thee
tp refuse."
" By my kingly crown, Amiot, thou triest our royal curiosity
sorely," answered the king, still endeavoring to jest, though the
voice of Sir Amiot jarred painfully o* his kind heart. "What
is this weighty boon ? out with it trust me, it shall be granted
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114 THE DATS OF BKUCE.
an it can ; for what Scotland can have to do with a subject
'twixt thee and me, I cannot imagine."
" It hath in this, my liege ; the life of an attainted traitor, a
treacherous regicide, is forfeited alike to his country and his
king. Oh, must I still speak thou canst not even guess ray
boon, 'tis too wild, too improbable ! my liege, my liege, 'tis
even so. I would beseech the life of him who hath sought thy
life, who hath hunted, persecuted, armed a hundred hands
against thee even him, the husband of Isabella Comyn of
Buchan in mercy, do not let him die."
" This is strange indeed, most strange," replied the sovereign,
his first start ana attitude of extreme astonishment subsiding
into gravity, nearly approaching sternness; "a weighty boon
in truth, and one how may we grant ? Wherefore dost thou
ask it what is be to thee ?"
" Ask not, sovereign of Scotland ; ask not, if thou hast in-
deed one kindly feeling left for Amiot ; ask not, for, oh, I can-
not answer," reiterated the unhappy young man, in an accent
of such utter abandonment, the king felt strangely moved.
" Had any other hand but mine secured him, exposed him to
this doom, perchance I bad not dared implore thee thus ; but
as it is, bis blood, his death will be upon my soul, crushing it
to earth with a dull, dead weight, against which it can never,
never rise. Monarch of Scotland, in mercy look not on me
thus ; there may come a day when this dark mystery may be
solved, when I may tell thee wherefore I thus beseech, conjure
thee ; but until then, ray sovereign, oh, my king, have pity on
my deep wretchedness, grant me this man's life. '
" That he may arm a hireling band once more against our
life, pursue with midnight sword or poisoned bowl, till his end
be gained. Amiot, for ourself we fear him not ; but for Scot-
land, against whom he hath so foully, grievously offended,
would this be wise 1"
" Condemn him to perpetual exile ; bind him by the most
solemn oath that mag can take, to forswear the shores of Brit-
ain forever and forever ; keep him in ward, under charge of the
truest officer your grace may select, until some far distant shore
be gained : do this, my sovereign I ask but his life, only his
life. Oh, if thou wouldst not burden my life with a weight I
can never cast aside, my liege, my liege, let not his blood be
hed."
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THE DAYS OF BRUCE. 115
"What is Amiot asking bo pitifully, gentle Robert?" said a
sweet thrilling voice, so suddenly, that both the king and the
knight started almost in terror, both too excited at the moment
to recognize the tones of Agnes, whose light form, enveloped
in flowing drapery, stood Eke some spirit noiselessly between
them ; " what would he have that Robert finds such difficulty
in granting ? Grant it, gentle Robert, for he ia so kind to
Agnes, and she can give him nothing, nothing in return."
" Tell me first, sweet one, why thou art here wherefore not
at rest?" answered the king, laying aside all gravity, all stern-
ness, to fold his arm round her, and press a kiss upon her
cheek. "Must I chide thee, loveliest, seeking me at such an
hour alone?"
" Oh, no, thou wilt not, Robert. They told me that thy life,
thy precious life had been endangered," she clung to him as if
terrified even at the thought, " and there was such bustle and
noise amidst the soldiers, I came to see if indeed thou wert aa
safe and free from ill as they declared thee."
" Didst doubt it, then, my love?"
" Oh, now I know not what I feared ; not that thou wert in-
jured. Ho, no, Robert the Bruce will live ; his life is all too
dear, too sacred for a murderer's hand. Said not the voice of
Nigel he shall live, be free, be glorious, and doth he not shrine
thee round whenever danger comes, and save thee, shield thee,
that thou mayest be blessed ? Oh, none shall hurt tbee, gen-
tle Robert ; no hand shall thrive against thee. Thou knowest
not how often I list the voice of my noble love breathing these
solemn words ; sometimes they sound even ere I see him in his
beauteous dwelling they tell me he is near. But what ailest
thee, kind Amiot ? thou art so sad."
" I plead a life," huskily murmured the knight, who, instead
of benefiting by the unexpected apparition of Agnes to gain
some portion of composure, appeared, if possible, yet more agi-
tated. " Lady, sweet lady, plead thou with me."
" Ask it not, ask it not," hurriedly answered the king, more
moved than he had yet been. " Amiot, Amiot, the sight of
this poor innocent child hath brought darker and fiercer
thoughts ; bid her not plead for one she knows not as her fa-
ther one who hath heaped such wrongs on her mother's head
and on hers, and on her ill-fated brother, be he alive or dead,
that with loud tones call on us for justice and revenge. Trai-
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116 THE DAYS OF BKUGE.
tor against his country and his king, vile slanderer of his wife,
destroyer of her peace, and of her children, and more, yet
more than all, sought he not the prison of my brother, my no-
ble brother, my own loved Nigel aye, and taunted, vilified,
tortured him, raised his murdering sword against him even then,
when the next morning beheld his execution ? Execution, said
I : his foul murder. Did he not set Edward on against him,
urging him yet more fiercely to seek his blood, when the tyrant
might have pardoned Thomas, Alexander, and Seaton, my sis-
ter s husband ? Cries not their blood aloud, and shall I not
have vengeance V
" Vengeance ! who spoke of vengeance 1" answered Agnes,
starting from the sovereign's side, and standing suddenly erect,
voice, feature, movement, all denoting a fearful state of excite-
ment. "Vengeance! vengeance! said he not? Thou shouldst
not dream of vengeance, sully the pure flame of patriotism and
of freedom. No, no ! Robert of Scotland, thou shalt not seek
vengeance ; thou shalt not blacken that fair name my Nigel
shields. He speaks to thee ; he bids thee pause in this work
of blood see, see ! he hovers o'er thee his beautiful smile
is gone ; he trembles lest in this dread trial thy wonted strength
should fail. Oh, do not anger him ; Robert, Robert, for his
sake, seek not vengeance. Hark! canst thou not hear? He
speaks, he charges thee give up thy vengeance. He will
vanish in wrath, fold up that lovely form in sorrow. Speak ;
Robert, Robert, king, father, let him not go! Nigel, my be-
loved, my own, come from that shrouding cloud ; speak, speak
thyself. Oh, he hath gone, gone ! and still, still he bids thee
seek not vengeance."
Her voice had grown wilder, shriller, till its sweet bird-like
notes were utterly lost, and she had flung herself at the feet
of the king, convulsively clasping his knees, while her beauti-
ful eyes alternately gazed on the king, and then wandering
wildly round the tent, told only too painfully the fearful par-
oxysm, which seeming to bring madness to the verge of col-
lected sense, was again in all its horrors upon her. In vain
the Bruce strove to raise, to soothe her; she resisted, reiterat-
ing her wild entreaty, until Robert, in a low, deep, impressive
voice won her ear to listen to these words : " Agnes, it shall
be as thou wilt. Alas 1 poor sufferer, thou knowest not for
whom thou pleadest, yet if thou didst, tbou couldst scarce
THB DAY8 OF BECOK. 117
plead more eloquently. Be calm, be content, sweet ; for
thy Nigel's sake, I swear I will not seek vengeance. I will
ask mine own heart, and if indeed it whisper 'tis vengeance
and not justice makes it thus inveterate, I swear he shall
not die. Will that content thee, Agnes ? Robert wills not
" Content me ? Yes, yes !" she sprung up, clasping ber
hands in joy, but the voice was scarcely articulate from faint-
ness ; her limbs so trembled Sir Amiot caught her in his arms.
" And not me alone see, he hath come again. My love, ray
own noble love ; he stretches out his arms over thee, to bless,
to shield thee ; he smiles on us both, he calls us. Nigel, Nigel,
oh, why may I not come ?" she struggled to bound forward,
but strength failed ; her head drooped, her extended arms sunk
powerless, and she lay like death in Sir Amiot's arras.
" Bear her gently hence, good" friend : I feared this. Ob,
when will these terrible attacks depart ! Poor child, poor child,
what have not these horrible wars cost thee ! Gently, dear
Amiot. Isoline's tent joins mine, that way ; give her to my
niece's charge ; 'tis all thou canst do, and then do thou return. '
The king spoke in excessive agitation, and Sir Amiot, scarcely
less agitated himself, only bowed in reply, and tenderly bear-
ing the inanimate form of Agnes in his arras, vanished by the
side entrance to which the king had pointed. Robert con-
tinued to pace the tent, till emotion was in some degree calmed.
" Yes, yes," at length he unconsciously thought aloud, " had
this foul traitor, this ruthless assassin, been other than,Comyn
of Buchan, I had not been thus inveterate, thus determined
against my faithful Amiot's pleadings ; then am I not actuated
by vengeance, beside whose grim form justice is but a dim,
formless shadow? My brother, my brother, hadst thou been
in Robert's place, thou hadst not hesitated thus ; and now, aye,
even now, thou shall be my guardian angel still. Thy last
words bade me leave vengeance to other, higher hands ; and
oh, if thou canst look down on earth, thou kntrwest how often
that charge hath checked my avenging hand, and given life,
when every passion shouted slay ; and now, now, shall they
have less power now * No, no ! Nigel, Nigel, for thy dear
sake, thou wouldst give life, and so will Robert. Ha ! re-
turned, mine Amiot ? Had the Lady Isoline retired ? With
whom didst leave tby poor afflicted charge ?"
D^cay G00gle
118 THE DATS OF BBUCE.
" In tbe care of the Lady Isoline, my liege ; she had not yet
gone to rest."
" Ha ! and didst speak with her?"
" Briefly, my lord ; she but detained me to ask if this even-
ing's tale were true."
" Which thou must have answered, methinks, as briefly, to
have returned so soon ; well, she shall hear more to-morrow.
For thy boon, it is granted ; perpetual exile, on penalty of in-
stant death, if found again on Scottish shores, shall be the
traitor's doom. Nay, kneel not, look not such ardent thanks.
I fear me, Amiot, had it not been for the Lady Agnes, the
memories she brought, we had scarce attained sufficient self-
command to have done this, even for thy sake, to whom we owe
a life ; therefore look not thanks, they do but speak reproach,
which perchance we merit, but which as yet we cannot bear.
And now, good night, my faithful soldier; we are not yet our-
self, and would be alone. '
Sir Amiot threw himself at the feet of the monarch, raised
his hand passionately to his lips, and, without uttering another
word, departed.
CHAPTER VII.
Seven days after this stirring event beheld the large army of
Robert the Bruce divided according to his plans before men-
tioned. He himself had marched down to the shores of Dum-
fries, whence Douglas had already dispatched messengers,
informing him that Sol way Frith was filled with a gallant fleet,
eagerly awaiting bis arrival, and all impatience to take advan-
tage of the first fair wind to sail for the Isle of Man. Robert
had only waited for this, and the unexpected intelligence of
Douglas being there before him expedited his movements.
Randolph, with his fair charge, and tbe greater part of the
remaining army, had also commenced their return northward,
intending to make Edinburgh their resting, until they should
receive other orders from Lord Edward Bruce. To Sir Amiot,
with a third of the army, had been intrusted the safe keeping
of the Earl of Buchan, whom they were to conduct to Dunbar,
)3i K:: , Google
TUB DAVS UK BBUCE. 119
and imprison in that castle, till a vessel for his transportation
to the north of Europe could be prepared and manned. This
done. Sir Amiot had demanded and received permission to join
Lord Edward Bruce without delay, and those of his men who
needed not rest were at liberty to accompany him. Few indeed
there were who chose to turn back from such an expedition, for
already had Dundee and Rutherglen bowed before his arms,
and now Stirling impregnable, nil-desired Stirling was the
object of his attack, and resolute determination to obtain.
It was not long- before a strongly-built, gallantly-manned
vessel lay moored before Dunbar, waiting the prisoner she was
to bear from his native land. Gloomily the earl had acceded
to the conditions offered by the Bruce, accepting his life at the
price of perpetual exile ; his was no martyr's spirit, whose glory
hath sometimes shed a lustre even over crime. His hatred of
the Bruce was the only marked feeling of his existence; be
would not have cared to die, could he have given death unto
his foe ; but that object foiled again, and at the very moment
of its fulfilment, his dark, suspicious spirit robed itself in the
belief that even hell itself was against him, and all other efforts
were in vain. He was no coward to fear to die, but he did fear
the horrible ignominy of a public execution the triumph such
a fate would give, not alone his foes, but the country he had
so basely abandoned, against whom he had inveterately fought
and therefore was it, when informed his sentence was perpet-
ual exile, and his solemn oath demanded never to return to
Scotland, he made the vow, unmoved in outward seeming, but
inwardly relieved. The indignation of the camp at this wholly
unexpected clemency of the king was extreme, breaking out
into almost open rebellion, requiring Robert's royal authority to
quell and soothe into content. Sir Amiot's share in this decis-
ion was never known ; an indefinable feeling on the part of the
sovereign prevented his ever speaking of it, and whatever the
king might think and he had thought on the subject never
quitted his own breast.
The evening was dark and lowering that leaden appearance
of sea and sky, and heaviness of atmosphere, which seldom fail
to sink the heart with a species of despondency impossible to be
defined, and as impossible to be withstood. The vessel lay like
a gigantic shadow on the still waters ; her sails, some furled
around the masts, and others flapping idly in the heavy air.
120 THE OATS OF BRtlCK.
A party of armed soldiers stood grouped upon a cliff, midway
between the castle and the sea, evidently under orders, though
at this moment taking various attitudes of ease ; below them,
and concealed from their observation, two forms were standing
on the beach, looking out on the ocean, as if anticipating a boat
to be lowered from the vessel, for the accommodation of the
prisoner, to whom the signal of embarkation had been already
given. They were the Knight of the Branch and the Earl of
Buchan, both evidently under the dominion of some strong sub-
ject of interest.
"And who art thou that darest press upon me thus?"
fiercely interrogated the earl, turning full upon his companion,
whose features were still concealed by the half-mask and long
drooping feather of a military cap. " Is it not enough that
thine arm foiled me in my purpose, saved my hated foe, and
made me what I am ? that thou art the one selected to keep
watch upon me, poisoning my few moments of tranquillity with
thy bated presence, forever reminding me that I essayed a
deed of murder, and it failed ? Away ! and leave to others the
charge of my person, I will not answer thee."
" Earl of Buchan," replied the knight, in a tone which spoke
only respect and deep sadness, " I took not this charge upon
me to taunt thee with memories better forgotten ; I accepted
it, as my heart dictated, to spare tbee the scorn, contumely,
harshness, which from other than myself had been thy portion
on thy journey, in thy prison, aye, till Scottish shores had
faded from thy view ; nay, thy very life had been endangered,
and 'twas for this I took this charge upon me for this his
highness offered it."
" Oh, the life of a Comyn must be of marvellous worth to a
petted follower of the Bruce," answered the earl, his harsh
voice unsoftened by the calm sadness of the reply. " Methinks
thou hast a marvellously eloquent gift of oratory ; yet that my
life, my comfort were in thy thoughts when this honorable office
was tendered thee by that spoiled minion of fortune they call a
king, I pray your mercy for its disbelief."
" Perchance, my lord, the fact that thy life was granted at
my entreaty may in part disperse a disbelief but too natural ;
for the rest "
"Ha! my life granted at thy request; and what, in the
fiend's name, U my life to thee ?" interrupted the earl, some-
)3i K:: , Google
IHX DATS OF BBCCE. 1S1
what less fiercely ; " yet. If it be so, I thank thee. Exile is
preferable to death on a scaffold, aye, and better still, than
compelled to call that hated Carries: king."
"Perchance, then, my lord, thou wilt bear with my presence
the remaining interval we must pass together ; pardon that
which may have hitherto seemed intrusion, and believe that
which I have asserted relating to thy comfort is truth, strange
as it may seem. If I have failed in aught that could have soft-
ened the harshness of imprisonment, I would pray you pardon
it, that we may part in peace."
The earl looked at him with an astonishment which had
the effect of almost softening the swarthy ruggedness of his
features.
"Thou art marvellously well-spoken, young man; by minu
honor, I should doubt those soft-sounding speeches, were we
not to part so soon that I can guess nothing of thy drift. In
heaven s name, who and what art thou ? why didst thou press
upon me thus but now a subject that ever drives me mad '!"
"Nay, 'tis on that I must still speak, on that I must still
brave thy wrath," answered the knight, boldly, yet still re-
spectfully. "Earl of Buchan, I know that the tale thou tellest
of thy son is false, I know that of him thou art no murderer ;
and I would know, aye, on my knee I would beseech thee, tell
me, wherefore hastf thou forged this groundless falsehood
wherefore, oh, wherefore thus poison the minds of his country-
men, that if, hi bis own proper person, he should appear again
amongst them, naught but mistrust, dislike, misprision will
await him? My lord, my lord, wherefore was the need of
cruelty like this 1"
"Wherefore art thou so dull-witted as not to know?
Wherefore create scorn, misprision, mistrust amid his country-
men? that he should never join them. Thinkest thou I, a
Comyn, can look with composure on my own son joinbg hand
and glove with my foes ? No, by every fiend in hell 1 but
why speak thus ? I have no son," and that proud, dark, evil-
passioned man turned hurriedly from Sir Amiot, every feature
almost convulsed.
" Then, then thou dost acknowledge the tale is false ; Alan
Comyn is not thus perjured !" exclaimed Sir Amiot springing
after him, and grasping the carl's mantle as if to detain him.
*' Oh, in mercy retract the fpuj assertion ; leave with me some
Tftt. ii. ft
DKjtizocay G00gle
129 THE DAYS OF BKUCK.
sign, some sealed and written sign, that will prove its falsity
tell to Scotland it is not Isabella's son that thus hath fallen;
my lord, my lord, do this, and she, the wife that thou hast
wronged, hast injured, even she will bless thee, and I "
" Peace, fool ; thjnkest thou that I am mad, so fallen, that
wilfully I will fall yet lower ? retract a tale of years, and what
retract ? I have no son, save him that bears my name, my
honor ; that will be foes with my foes, friends with my friends,
and such is he who bears the name of Alan Comyn, who is the
friend of Edward. Retract say that is not which is, and that
which is is not ; that she, whose rebellious spirit first created
these evils, made me yet more the thing I am, may bless me.
Pshaw! think of some better incentive, or thou pleadest in
vain."
"Alas! there is none; if thine own heart refuseth justice to
thine own child, what can a stranger plead?" replied Sir Amiot,
mournfully.
" Justice to mine own ! Was the boy taught to do his father
justice ? was he not taught to hate, scorn, contemn me, to ab-
nor, even to raise his prayers to heaven against my course of
acting?"
" No, believe me, no!" replied the young knight, raising his
clasped hands, and speaking in a tone of truthful fervor, impos-
sible to be mistaken. " Oh, believe tby son was taught to love,
to reverence thee as his father, even while he imbibed principles
of patriotism contrary to thine own. Condemn thee ! oh, how
little knowest thou Isabella of Buchan; never, never did one
word derogatory to the respect due to thee, as the husband of
her youth, the father of her children, mingle in the instructions
lavished upon them. Earl of Buchan, thy son would have rev-
erenced thee, aye, loved thee, badst thou not with a rude hand
so torn affection's links asunder they never might be joined."
"And who art thou that darest tell me this?" answered
the earl, darkly and terribly agitated. "I tell thee I have no
son ; the boy is dead dead through my fiendish cruelty, though
not by mine order. I would have given ray right hand, aye,
more, I would have forsworn my hatred to the Bruce, drawn
back from my vow to compass his death, had this not chanced,
had the boy lived ; but he is dead dead. His blood is upon
my head, though not upon my hand ; and what matters, then,
niy future fate ? I have no son, save him whom men term.
Dgtzc^GoOglc
THE SATS OF BBDOE. 123
Alan "Comyn, minion of England's Edward ; and what, then,
should I retract? No, no, the boy is dead dead through me;
and shall I proclaim this by the avowal that I am his murderer ?
Never, by the blue vault above us, never !"
"Wouldst thou the boy lived now, Earl of Buchan? didst
thou know the boy lived, wouldst thou retract this tale, and
more, retract the foul slander on Isabella's name, which severed
those links that bound the son unto his father, and crushed his
young spirit far more than those chains and dungeons in which
tis said he died wouldst thou do this, my lord ? 'Tis no idle
parley ; give back thy son to life, retract the slander on his
mother's name ; for if he died through thee, 'twas that winch
slew him ; do this, and Alan lives I"
" Ha ! canst recall the dead to life tell me the boy lives
that of this black deed Buchan is guiltless tell me he lives ?
If thou canst, I will believe what thou wilt ; that Duncan of
Fife told me false ; that his sister, my wife, is pure and true as
I did believe her, despite my hate, until he spoke those words
that added fuel to my wrath, and heaped ten thousand injuries
on her ill-fated head. I love her not, I cannot love her ; but
an thou canst prove my boy lives, I will believe her guiltless,
proclaim that I have foully wronged her ; prove that of my son
I am no murderer. Ha ! God in heaven, what is this who
art thou ? speak ! Do my very eyes turn traitors, and tell me
that which is not?"
"They tell thee truth ; believe them, oh, believe them," an-
swered Sir Amiot, who was kneeling before the earl, his fea-
tures exposed to the light of day, and his long, glossy hair fall-
ing back on either side from a face so faultless in its propor-
tions, so beautiful in its expression, that it imprinted itself on
the heart of that dark, harsh man as something scarce of earth,
something sent from heaven. His eyes fixed themselves upon
the kneeling form, so full of grace, of simple dignity, on the -
face upturned to his, in such glowing, truthful beauty fixed
till the eyelids quivered either beneath the intensity of the gaze,
or from some emotion never felt before ; and as he laid both
hands on the shoulders of the young man he was aware that
his whole frame so trembled he must have fallen without such
support. And was this Comyn of Buchan, the cold, harsh,
merciless, bloodthirsty Comyn the cruel, injurious husband,
the neglectful father, the traitor to his country, the wouhj-be
124 THE DATS 07 BBB02.
assassin of his king ? Was this the man, bowed to the very
dust, his whole being changed, every dark thought for the mo-
ment crushed beneath the mighty power of one emotion that
which is the breath of the Eternal, the symbol of "that likeness
in which made He man," found alike in the blessed and the ac-
cursed, the angelic and the reprobate, breathing of that divine
origin which the veriest sinner cannot utterly cast aside ; it will
be beard, it will find vent, coming like a ministering angel to
the darkest, hardest heart, and whispering of better things, aye,
even of hope 'mid sin ; for if that love hath voice, hath being
in the guilty sons of earth, what must be its power, its might,
its' durance in Him who hath breathed it in his children, and
called himself their Father ?
"Kneel not, kneel not. God in heaven 1 why am I thus
what is it that hath come upon me ? I who have dreamed but
of hate, and blood, and murder. I cannot love, yet what is
tbis ? Boy, boy, do not kneel ; 'tis no fitting posture for such
as thee, and to one hardened, blackened as fiuchan. Up, up,
I cannot bear it"
" Father, I will kneel till thou hast blessed me ; till thou
hast recalled that horrible curse thundered against him who
stood between thee and thy vengeance ; till thou hast pardoned
that which seemed rebellion 'gainst thy power, bnt which, oh,
I could not avert, for Scotland and my mother had yet stronger
claims than thee. Father, I will not rise till thou hast blessed,
till thou hast pardoned.''
" Blessed boy, boy, oh, do not mock me blessed, and by
him that would have murdered thee, who hath poisoned thy
fair name, and laid such heavy misery upon thy youth ; par-
doned, and 'tis I have wronged thee unto death !"
" Yet art thou still my father still I am thy son : oh, 'tis
no mockery, father, thou knowest not thy children ; oh ! that
it might have been, thou wouldst have found no failing in then-
love, and 'twas a mother taught it aye, to respect, to cherish, _
e'en though duty threw us on such diverse paths. My father,
thy curse hangs like a cloud upon my drooping spirit, thy
blessing will give me strength for further trial."
" Boy, boy, I cannot bless ; I know no prayer, no word meet
for that dreadful Judge I never thought of until now. I will
learn prayers to bless thee, and then oh God, my son, my
spn I" Could it be that voice was choked that bad man's
THE DAY8 OP BRUCE. 125
arms were round that youthful form, in strong convulsive pres-
sure that thick and scorching tears fell, one by one, from eyes
that knew not tears before ? 'Twas even so, slowly, almost
convulsively, the earl roused himself to gaze again upon his
sod. " And thy mother taught thee thus, gave thee such prin-
ciples, instilled such feelings, when I gave only cause for hate,
alike from her and thee ? Tell her I crave her pardon, pro-
claim to the whole world I hare foully wronged her. Oh, that
I could force the black lie back into the slanderer's throat at
the sword's point."
"Leave that unto her son. Hark !" he hastily resumed his
mask, "not yet may I proclaim my name, my vow b yet to be
accomplished : they come to part us. Oh, my father, think upon
thy son; we shall yet meet again."
The earl shook his head mournfully.
" My son, that will never be ; but trust to me, by the heaven
above us, I swear I yet will do thee justice! there seems a
black veil withdrawn from my heart and eyes. I do not yet
know myself; but it will not pass no, no, that face will come
between me and returning darkness. I know not how thou
wert saved, but 'tis enough, I am no murderer of my child."
What more might have passed between them was unknown ;
they had unconsciously passed this harrowing interview in a
fissure, or open cavern, whose projecting cliHs concealed them
from all observation from the sea, and prevented their perceiv-
ing the expected boat had been lowered, and now lay some
fifty yards from them, waiting for the prisoner ; the wind was
rising, and promised too fair for further delay. Little did the
soldiers who were to conduct the earl to the ship imagine the
emotions at work in the hearts alike of their officer and his
charge. Calmly, to all appearance, they walked side by side
to the beach ; they stood one minute in silence, gazing on each
other, and the stout frame of Buchan was seen to quiver, as
bent by some mighty struggle, his swarthy cheek turnea ghastly
pale, he made one step forward, half extended his hand, drew
it back, as conscious that every eye was upon them, and thus
they parted the earl to hurry into the boat, crouch down on
one of the seats and bury his brow in his mantle, till not a
feature could be discerned ; Sir Amiot to linger on the beach
till the boat reached the vessel, and slowly her sails were seen
to expand, and heavily, as if reluctantly she faded from V
126 THE DATS OF BBUOE.
view. The varied emotions swelling in Lis bosom, the tumul-
tuous thoughts occasioned by that interview, the words longing
for vent, but doomed to rest unsaid, must be left to the imagi-
nations of our readers : we are no more at liberty to lift the veil
from them, than remove the mystery which Sir Amiot's vow
still kept closely round him. He was still the nameless solitary
unto others ; and to us he must still remain so, till his own hand
removes the mask, his own lips proclaim his name.
It was not till this excitement had in part subsided, not till
the military confusion and joyous spirits around Stirling, pre-
senting other engrossing subjects of reflection, had somewhat
turned the current of his thoughts, and engaged him enthusi-
astically in all Lord Edward's daring projects, that he had at
length leisure first to marvel, and then to grow uneasy at Mal-
colm's protracted absence. Despite the new subject of interest
to his lord, occasioned by Buchan's attempted crime and con-
sequent detention, the page had set off on his expedition the
ensuing morning, as had been resolved between him and his
master. One month extended over two, and not even the
interest of the siege could prevent Sir Amiot's rapidly increas-
ing anxiety. At length, nearly ten weeks after they had first
parted, without either announcement or any outward semblance
of long absence, Malcolm stood before him, with just the same
quiet mien of respect and arch expression of feature as if no
interruption whatever had taken place in his daily service to
his master. Not so unconcerned Sir Amiot ; springing to bis
feet, the plan of the castle, which he had been intently consult-
ing, dashed down in the violence of the movement, he caught
hold of the boy's hand, wildly exclaiming, " Returned at length,
and successful ! oh, tell me, where hast thou been what done ?
hast discovered any trace? Quick, Malcolm, quick 1"
" Will one word satisfy thee, my lord ? found, found I"
" God, I thank thee I" was the passionate rejoinder, and Sir
Amiot threw himself back on his seat, agitated almost beyond
control. " But where, oh, where ? Is she but found to mock
me with the vain dream of liberty, of life, alike to her and me ?
found, but to be lost again, till this poor country may pay her
ransom ?"
"She is where thou shalt rescue her, my lord."
" Ha ! where, in St Andrew's name ?" Sir Amiot sprung up
in ecstasy.
^tiz^y Google
THB DAY3 Off BBDCK. 127
"Even in this goodly fortress, this coveted, impregnable
Stirling."
" Here, here ! oh, say it again. How can it be ? when
whence art sure ?"
" My lord, give me but breathing- time, aud thou shalt learn
all this strange tale, fast as my lips can speak it."
Sir Amiot with an effort brought down his excited nerves to
some degree of composure, and listened with intense interest to
Malcolms brief yet important tale. Although believing it
utterly impossible his master could have seen the prisoner, in
whose weal his whole being seemed involved, without recogni-
zing her, the page yet directed his first course towards the
Convent of Mount Carmel. Much caution and readiness did it
require for the perfect completion of his delicate mission, for
the late attack on the hamlet had rendered the sisters yet
more guarded in their communications. Our space will not
permit us to follow the ready-witted boy in all the intricate
windings of his divers plans, suffice it that he had been per-
fectly successful. At the outset he ' bad ascertained that a
Scottish prisoner of distinction was under wardance of the
Abbess of Our Lady of Mount Carmel, and, at the imminent
risk of his limbs, and imprisonment if discovered, he contrived
to conceal himself in the garden of the nunnery, and see her,
too distinctly for even the shadow of a doubt as to her identity
to remain. Assured of this, he hovered about the neighbor-
hood, having heard some rumors as to her removal ; rumors,
after a delay of some weeks, confirmed. The rest, to one like
himself, was easy ; he followed her guards, whose course, to
his utter astonishment, was northward. Sometimes assuming
disguise, he mingled with them, and learned that the distracted
state of England, preventing all security for such an important
prisoner, and almost incapacitating Edward from thinking of
any thing but his own personal cares and griefs, had caused nim
hurriedly to accede to the request of the Abbess of Mount
Carmel, in behalf of her prisoner, that if the late assault had
determined his highness to change her present abode, sho
might be permitted a residence in one of the English garri-
soned castles of Scotland ; and the Earl of Derby, then march-
ing to throw increased forces into Stirling, unconscious at the
commencement of his march of that fortress's beleaguered
state, was commissioned to transport her thither, with all due
)3i K:: , Google
128 TUB DATS OF BETJOE.
respect This was important intelligence for the faithful Mal-
colm, and inspired him with yet increase of patience to follow
the earl on his tedious march, and never lose Eight of his move-
ments, often detained as they were by the devious and bidden
paths they were compelled to pursue. The wild glens and
passes of the Cheviot Hills brought them undiscovered across
the country to the desolate part of the coast of Ayrshire.
There, in detached parties, they took possession of some fish-
ing-boats, and sailed up unsuspected I y to the very head of the
lakes running up between Argyllshire and Dumbartonshire ;
there cautiously effecting a landing, the earl united his forces
in the mountains and woods, and thus proceeded to the north
of Stirling, so completely unsuspected, as to make his way that
very day within the fortress, by a concealed postern leading to
. the underworks, their entrance covered by the desperate sullies
of the besieged.
Sir Amiot listened to this narrative with the deepest atten-
tion, and then, with military precision, questioned his page
again and again. Was he certain the prisoner was with them
to the end ? Had he seen her enter the castle, or might she
have been left in any convent on their way ? Malcolm could
not answer this decidedly. He had been compelled to part
from them some days before to elude suspicion, nay, from the
period of their landing in Dumbartonshire he had only watched
their proceedings at a distance ; but he was sure that she was
with them still, and that Stirling Castle was now the fortress
in which the prisoner on whom so much of Sir Amiot's happi-
ness depended was immured.
Sir Amiot scarcely doubted this himself; but he had expe-
rienced too much of suspense, of that deep agony of hope
roused but to be crushed, to rest secure even on this intelli-
gence, much as there was in it to encourage and inspire. He
sat up half the night in earnest commune with his page, and at
last his resolution was formed.
The next morning, somewhat, to the astonishment of Lord
Edward, bis favorite officer, the Knight of the Branch, re-
quested a week's furlough from the camp, coupled, however,
with an assurance that within that time he should in a]] proba-
bility return, and bring with him information materially con-
nected with the business of the siege. Sir Edward Bruce had
too much confidence and love for Sir Amiot either to refuse or
3jl.zo::y GoOgllT
question ; there was a spirit of daring about him so much akin
to the living fire of his own breast, that it was enough for the
knight to hint any thing of a secret expedition', for Sir Edward
to feel assured it must be something in which his whole spirit
would sympathize and long to join.
Two days after Sir Amiot had departed, a minstrel made
his appearance in the Scottish camp. He was clad in the green
jerkin, leggins, and hose, with a short cloak of somewhat rich
material for his fraternity, and secured at his throat by an em-
erald of value. Long curls of auburn hair shaded his face,
which was almost concealed by a slouching cap and dark
drooping feathers ; his harp was slung across his neck ; but
there was something in his figure and martial step that would
perhaps have seemed incompatible with his more peaceful
employment, had not the exquisite taste and skill with which
he touched his instrument confirmed the tale his dress pro-
claimed.
In the age of chivalry, the person of the minstrel was sacred
as a herald, perchance yet more so, for where the latter might
meet with contempt and rough treatment, the minstrel was
ever received with honor ana delight : his path was never
stopped. He could pass free, and was welcomed with joy by
opposing armies ; both parties trying who could evince the
more eagerness to listen to his lays, or show honor to his per-
son. He could be sure of free passage through a besieging
army, make his way unquestioned into the very stronghold of
a beleaguered fortress ; and therefore it was but in the very
spirit of the time that the minstrel we have referred to refused
the pressing invitation of the Scottish leaders to abide with
them, and declared he was under an engagement to visit Stir-
ling at a given time, which circumstances had already delayed ;
but being so honored by Lord Edward Bruce's great desire for
his performance, he promised that, if the leaders would permit
his departure without delay the succeeding morning, he would
devote that evening to their service. The proposal was re-
ceived with the greatest glee, and a joyous party met that
evening to revel in the minstrel's lays. There was something
in his joyous tone, in the buoyancy of youth and poetry which
appeared to characterise him, that at once fascinated all hearts ;
while the spirit of his martial songs, the liquid richness of his
deep-toned voice, held every ear enchained. A soore of voices
8*
3jl.zo::y GoOgllT
130 THE DAYS OF BBCCE.
Eledged him in the sparkling wine ; a score of voices shouted
ludly in his praise ; and Lord Edward himself, albeit unused
to love the minstrel's art, vowed he was one well fitted for a
warrior's guest, and detaching a golden brooch from his man-
tle, bade him wear it for his sake.
" For, by my father's sou!, thou art the very king of min-
strels !" he exclaimed ; " and it is a crying sin and shame thou
shouldst prefer the applause of those English knaves and that
carpet knight Sir Philip de Mowbray to our own. Thy tongue
favors the Scotch as fluently as the English. Whence 'comest
thou ? Edward of England would line thy pouch with gold
pieces, I trow. An thou lovcst the English, why not seek
him V
"Truly, my good lord, and lose my head for my pains.
Know you not all Edward's minions are fated on the instant?
Piers Gaveston's fate hath no charms for me."
" Thou art a ready-witted fellow, by my faith ; hie thee to
King Robert then, and thou sbalt enjoy his favor, without any
such drawback as envy to thy fame.
"Will your lordship grant me the opportunity of gaining
that favor ? beware what you pledge, 1 may call on yon to
redeem it."
" Call on me and welcome ; thy voice gains on my heart.
I have heard but one like thee, and he poor fellow, may
his fate not be thine ! I knew not bis worth till he was gone, '
and Edward Bruce, the stern, harsh, iron-hearted warrior,
passed his hand across his darkening brow as he thought of
Nigel ; the memory of his brother hushed his soul to silence.
The minstrel swept his hand across his harp, till a low,
wailing strain woke from it, swelling louder and gladder, then
he expressed in song so exactly the transcript of the Brace's
feelings, that he started in astonishment. A silence of several
minutes followed the lay, whose simple homage to the noble
dead found its echo in every heart, and then burst forth a shout
of applause, ringing through the canvas walls till the very
soldiers marvelled wherefore. Edward Bruce sprang up and
grasped the minstrel's hand. " Sing that to Robert,' he cried,
" and thy fortune's made !" Modestly, though smilingly, the
minstrel received the delighted applause ; and thus, with many
a rude present thrust upon him, he left the general's tent.
The next morning saw him present himself before the gates
3jl.zo::y GoOgllT
THE DAYS OF BKCCE. 131
of Stirling Castle, and he was instantly admitted It was of no
consequence that he had come from and perhaps tarried in the
enemy's camp ; be whs a minstrel, and one too of no common
seeming. Soldiers and officers hastened to greet him, and even
the seneschal of the castle, Sir Philip de Mowbray, himself
deigned to give him frank and joyous welcome.
" Truly, sir minstrel, thou hast come when most needed ; we
wanted some such pleasant guest to enliven our tedious be
leaguerment We have guests, too, fair and gentle guests,
whom thy lays may chance to charm into forgetfulness that
they are somewhite prisoners. We look to see thee grace our
evening meal : see that thou disappoint us not"
The minstrel bowed lowly in reply, and the knight passed
on ; perchance the hours waned but slowly, despite the cour-
teous attention he received on all sides. But at length he stood
within the banquet hall of Stirling Castle, at length be glanced
round the courtly crowd of knights and dames who occupied
the dais, and there was a wild throbbing of sudden joy within
his soul. They bade him sing, but slowly he obeyed, for he
feared the quivering of his voice. There were many gazing
upon Aim, but he saw bat one, who sate somewhat back from
the noble circle, her sable robes contrasting sadly with the gay
dresses of those around her, though comporting well with that
dignified and noble form, the sculptured beauty of those pale
and pensive features. Beside her was a light and lovely girl of
some seventeen summers, beautiful enough to have chained the
eye and heart of any stranger, awake as was the minstrel to
such impressions ; but even her he saw not, save when he
marked the sweet touching smile with which some remark she
bad made was met by her companion, the looks of love, of
kindness lavished on her, and then he saw her, for he envied
her position, envied the smiles which she received. The min-
strel sang, and there was a pathos in his voice, an inspiration in
his lays, and none there dreamed the wherefore. The jest was
hushed, the laugh was stilled, for feelings were stirred within
by the deep magic of the stranger's song ; and the whole frame
of the minstrel quivered as he felt the large, dark, melancholy
eyes of that noble prisoner fixed upon him, for meet them he
dared not, and his head bent down upon his harp till bis long
hair veiled every feature from her gaze ; and thus the evening
waned.
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132 TIIS DATS OP BRtTCE.
Two days within the given time Sir Amiot returned, and for
some days the siege continued with little change to either
party ; but at the end of a fortnight, the Scotch bad obtained
possession of the posterns commanding the underworks, and
thus completely stopped the passage of provisions from the
town, which had hitherto afforded the besieged more than suf-
ficient supplies. The blockade, which had gradually closed
around the castle, now became complete, closing up every
avenue, and reducing the garrison to all the horrors of threat-
ened famine. This was, in truth, an important advantage
gained, and Edward Bruce already triumphed in perspective.
He pressed the siege with renewed vigor and most intemperate
valor, seconded by all his troops, whose joy at this unexpected
success carried them even beyond their usual bravery. Sir
Amiot appeared in a state of excitement scarcely attributable to
the affairs of the siege, repeatedly alluding to the immense
number of the garrison and prisoners within the castle, and de-
claring that the famine amongst them would be fearful.
" All the better," said Lord Edward ; " we shall starve them
out the sooner ; they must surrender at discretion."
" But ere they do this, my lord, what will they not endure ?
and the prisoners the noble Scottish prisoners how know we
but in their desperation they may cut them off to lessen the
number? such things have been."
' "Aye, but not under the sway of such a luxurious, effemi-
nate king as the second Edward. Trust me, knights and no-
bles take their stamp more from their monarch than they are
aware of. Did Edward the Hammer rule in England, why bia
spirit would urge this Sir Philip to do even this cut off his
prisoners, his own men, did they dare murmur at privation,
rather than surrender ; but days are changed now, and I fear
no such catastrophe."
" But famine, exhaustion for English soldiery, is of little mo-
ment ; but for our captive countrymen, and some still less ca-
pable of enduring it, think of them I"
" And so I do ; but what, in heaven's name, ails thee, Amiot ?
thou hast grown most marvellously tender-hearted. By my
father's soul, were the thing possible, I could swear thy lady-
love were prisoner in yon castle, an thou art thus anxious for
her safety !"
" Thou hast said it !" passionately burst from Sir Amiot,
THE DATS OF BROCK. 133
" Ob, Sir Edward, she, whom for five long weary years I have
sought in vain whose life, whose liberty, whose weal, are infi-
nitely dearer than my own she lieth in thrall under my very
eye, separated from me but by beleaguered walls ! Ob, is it
marvel, now that I have thus peared that goal, towards which
I have so long and painfully struggled, striving against disap-
pointment, failure upon failure, which none nave knowu or
dreamed of marvel that my doubting soul should now tremble,
lest that which it has thus sought should fade away beneath
my very grasp? She is there, impossible as it seems! Oh,
Sir Edward, give me, oh, give me but the opportunity to obtain
her liberation ere it be too late !"
"And so I will, believe me; only be calm, and listen to rea-
son," he replied, too much astonished to inquire how Sir Amiot
knew that which he affirmed. " How wouldst thou have me
do this take the castle by storm? Thou art too good a sol-
dier not to see that is impossible, even for Edward Bruce's
erratic brain. The fortress is absolutely impregnable, and what
would be the use of so squandering Scottish blood ? No, trust
me, this blockade will bring those caged birds to terms fast
enough, too fast for the evil thou fearest to accrue. Edward
is too harassed by his affairs in England to care much for Scot-
land, and this Sir Philip knows ; so he is not likely to be so
heroic as to sacrifice prisoners, garrison, and himself by a pro-
longation of the blockade. Let things rest as they are for the
present, and if at the end of fourteen days they nave come to
no terms, I pledge thee mine honor to resort to more active
Sir Amiot was forced to be content, for, despite his fears as
to the effect of this blockade on the comforts of the prisoners,
his military experience acknowledged the justice of Sir Ed-
ward's representations, and he waited, with what patience he
could, the issue.
Fortunately for his self-command, he had not to wait long J
Edward Brace's idea that self-sacrifice was not even in Sir
Philip's thought, was speedily realized. A herald, with a
white flag and properly escorted, appeared from the castle,
demanding speech with the Lord Edward Bruce and his offi-
cers, on the part of Sir Philip de Mowbray, just seven days
after the conversation we have recorded. A slight smile of
triumph circled Brace's lip, seeming a mischievous glance
134 THE DATS OF BEUCK.
directed towards Sir Amiot, who was standing at his right
hand, as the English knight was conducted to his tent, and
speedily made known his mission. Sir Philip de Mowbray,
acknowledging the great valor and marvellous successes of the
Scotch under all .who bore the redoubted name of Bruce,
pledged himself solemnly and sacredly as his opponents could
demand, to surrender the castle of Stirling, the ammunition,
arms, and treasure thereto appertaining, without any fraud or
diminution, on the following Midsummer day (it was now
January), if by that time it were not relieved. If Lord Edward
Bruce would agree to these terms, Sir Philip swore, by the
honor of a knight, to adhere alike to the letter and the spirit of
his pledge.
The pause of consideration was brief amongst the Scottish
leaders. The rash, yet daring spirit of their general was upon
them all, and if they did think on the immense power of the
sovereign of England, the great advantage the intervening
period gave him in the preparation of an army, it was but of
the increase of glory they should reap ; many also believed the
castle was as good as won, imagining Edward held it at too
small a price to subject himself either to exertion or expense
for its recovery. Unanimously, then, Sir Philip's terms were
received and accepted ; but when the hum of many tongues
ceased, Sir Amiot stepped suddenly forward, and entreated a
moment's attention.
"Tell Sir Philip de Mowbray," he said, addressing the
herald, "that his offered -terms are accepted by these right
noble and worthy representatives of Scotland and her king ; but
that there is one condition annexed, an important condition, on
the acceptance or refusal of which our acceptance of these
terms must depend. We demand the surrender, not alone of
the fortress, ammunition, arms, and treasure, but that there
shall be no removal of the Scottish prisoners therein kept in
thrall ; that all those now there, of whatever sex, age, or rank,
shall there remain to wait the issue, and be given up with the
castle, without ransom, charge, or condition whatever, as the
lawful gain of our arms : let Sir Philip pledge himself to this,
and we will accede unto his terms. My lords, have I spoken
well ?"
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THE DATS OF BRCCE. 135
" Aye, by my father's sou], thou hast, and I owe thee good
thanks for that which 'scaped my memory !" he frankly en-
claimed, striking his gauntletod hand on the table. "Repeat
this to Sir Philip, sir herald, and tell him, an he accede to this,
we offer him personal liberty, and free passage for himself, four
knights, and ten men-at-arms, as he shall choose, to the court
of Edward, to report the conditions we demand and the terms
he has proposed. We bid him put some mettle in his poor,
weak shadow of a sovereign, and urge him to send relief, for
we desire not to gain the castle at such easy rate : we defy
him to the field." The herald pledged himself to the correct
delivery of this message, and with a low obeisance withdrew.
The anxiety of the generals was great for Sir Philip's answer,
none more so than Sir Amiot and Lord Edward, and it came
at length. Sir Philip, the herald said, acknowledged he had
determined to transport his prisoners to some place of greater
security, as he scarcely felt himself authorized to deprive the
treasures of his master of so large a sum as the rank of his
prisoners might demand for their ransom ; but, on due and
weighty consideration, he had resolved on accepting the offered
condition. If not relieved by the 24th of June, 1314, he
pledged himself to deliver up with the castle, not alone the
arms and treasures pledged before, but every prisoner, of
whatever sex, age, or rank, the fortress now, this day, 14th of
January, 1314, held in thrall.
All was now joy and triumph in the camp ; the blockade
was removed, and Sir Philip speedily on his way to London,
escorted to the borders with all honor by many young knights,
burning with impatience for the issue of his journey. That
there was any chance of defeat, any dream of failure, never
entered into the thoughts of either soldiers or officers, and per-
haps the first idea that the engagement entered into was not
an overwise one, originated in the grave aspect of King Robert's
countenance, when, on his triumphant return from the Isle of
Man, and instant visit to the camp, the fate of Stirling was re-
ported to him. There was no timidity, no doubt, no fears as
to the result ; such could have no resting in the soul of Bruce,
but it was scarce approval. He spoke, however, no such sen-
timent to his soldiers, but when alone with his brother and
other leaders, expostulated earnestly and eloquently on the
extreme rashness of the engagement. The labor of years, the
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136 THE DATS OF BBOCK.
toil and struggles of a whole, nation, the weal of Scotland, nay,
her hardly-won liberty, the prosperity of her sons, all were
naked by one rash word. He bade them remember that Eng-
land, Ireland, Wales, part of France, even of Scotland, would
spring up at Edward's clarion call, and to them what had
Robert to oppose ?
"Your highness thinks, then, Edward will fight? By my
father's soot, his kingly sire should rise from his grave to give
me thanks for snapping the flowery garlands around his son,
and giving him incentive to fight, ' was Sir Edward's reply,
finding some difficulty in restraining his impatience before his
royal brother.
" It is a great chance whether he do not," rejoined another
leader. " I think he will deem Stirling Castle not worth the
trouble or fatigue of buckling on his armor.''
" So perchance Edward's self may think," replied the king,
" but not so will Edward's subjects. My friends, I know the
mettle of the English ; that hath not departed with their war-
like sovereign. A dozen English barons I could name would
arm themselves and vassals, and march northward, with or
without their king's consent, and Edward, effeminate and weak
as he is by nature, would not submit to this. No, their spirit
will act upon his, and he will wake from his lethargy to a full
sense of the neglect and indifference of past years, endeavoring
to atone for them by one sweeping blow, calling his whole do-
minions to bis aid."
" And let him do so !" impetuously exclaimed Edward Bruce.
" Robert, I know that in this thou speakest as the king and not
the warrior ; thou fearest for the weal of thy country and thy
devoted subjects, as a king ; perchance, 'tis right thou shouldst ;
but I tell thee no more ill will accrue from this than that thou
wilt become possessed of treasure, prisoners, and glory. It
will biing this continued struggle to a crisis; it will bring Scot-
land against England as she should be, in firm and bold array ;
and what signifies disparity of number ? I tell thee, Robert,
we shall win, and thou wilt yet thank me for entering into such
engagement. Let Edward bring every man he has, and we
will fight them, were they even more !"
King Robert looked on the kindling features of his brother,
on his noble form, dilating with the passionate axdor of his
words, and on the countenance of every knight and leader,
THE DATS OF BKCCK. 137
then bearing in vivid light and shade the echo of such senti-
ments, and he could no longer control, by the more prudent
maxims of the sovereign, the bold spirit of his race and bis
knighthood,
"Since it is so, brother," he exclaimed, "manfully and fear-
lessly will we abide tbe battle, and call upon all who love us,
and value the freedom of their country, to oppose this English
king ! Aye, though backed with the flower of his kingdom,
though aided by knights from every State in Europe, for the
rescue of this castle of Stirling, yet will we abide him, and
bring him, if not force 'gainst force, the willing hands and
dauntless spirits of the free."
CHAPTER VIII.
" Nat, surely we have given thee time enow, lady mine,
thou canst not in conscience ask more," the King of Scotland
said to tbe lady Isoline, some five months after the conclusion
of our last chapter. They were together in an apartment of
the Convent of St. Ninian, where Isoline had chosen to take
up her abode, her impatient spirit not permitting her to wait
the issue of a battle for which the whole of Scotland had risen,
sheathed in mail, even at tbe moderate distance of Edinburgh
Castle. The Convent of St. Ninian was situated rather less
than two miles from Stirling, round which fortress for many a
rood the Scottish army had gradually assembled, to the amount
of nearly thirty thousand men ; with them, however, as with
the immense preparations and gorgeous armament of England,
we have at this moment nothing to do, the fortunes of a young
lady engrossing us rather more than the fortunes of a kingdom.
There was an unusual shadow on Isoline's beautiful face,
which seemed to express an inward struggle, as unusual as its
index on her brow. She was sitting on a low embroidered
cushion, resting her elbow on her knee, her cheek upon her
hand, her luxuriant hair somewhat less carefully arranged than
usual, falling as drapery on her shoulders ; the king, seated on
a couch near her, had laid his hand caressingly on her shoulder,
13s THE DAYS OF BKUCK.
and seemed half-soothing, half-commanding. All their con-
verse it is unnecessary to repeat; we will take up the thread
which ia woven with the future events of our tale.
" I looked to thee to give me courage to resist this unlooked-
for tyranny of my father, and thou givest him thy support,"
resumed Isoline, without heeding the king's previous remark,
and lifting up her face to his, gleaming sadly pale amid her
raven curls. " Why must I marry ? of what great importance
is this poor hand, that it may not rest quietly in my own pos-
session as I desire ? Would to heaven I were a poor maiden
of my native mountains, free to wed or remain smgle, as my
heart might prompt."
" Truly, I think a mountain maid's estate would scarcely suit
thee, Isoline," replied the king, smiling ; " thou lovest state and
power as the best of us."
" 'Tis because I love power that I love not to resign it. Oh,
my liege, why do me such wrong as to compel marriage ? why
may I not remain unwed V
" Isoline," replied the king, seriously, " I pledged myself to
thy father to reiterate his command, because it is mine own.
Thou knowest, to behold thee the wife of Douglas has been
for seven years my dearest wish ; 1 can consent to its delay no
longer. I will not have his happiness thus trifled with, the
best years of his manhood wasted, in the pursuit of devotion to
h wilful girl, who is scarce worthy of him. Aye, look proud
as thou wilt, fair niece, thy continued perverseness compels me
to be thus harsh. What is there thou canst bring forward
against the husband of thy sovereign's choice, thy father's
wishes 1 Come, sum up the charge against him, that we may
judge if in truth its foundation have some reason." '
Isoline was silent.
" Doth he possess one single evil quality which can create
unhappiness for a wife, abhorrence against himself? Speak
with thy wonted candor, Isoline. Knowest thou aught against
him, one evil quality which thou canst bring forward in his
dispraise-?"
"No," was the reply, in clear frank tones.
" Is there aught in his person or his countenance which your
woman's fancy doth so dispraise as to affect your happiness?"
Another "No."
" Has his public or private conduct evinced any other spirit
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THE DATS OF BEUOE. 139
than that of a true knight and patriot, faithful to Scotland as
to me ?"
Again she answered " No."
" Has his pursuit of your fastidious ladyship been conducted
other than most nobly and most honorably "
" No."
" Notwithstanding all this, canst thou say then thou dost
positively dislike him?"
" My liege, no."
" Then what, in St. Andrew's name, can either thou or I de-
sire more ?" exclaimed King Robert, with some natural impa-
tience. " Isoline, there can be but one cause for this positive
rejection of a noble chevalier, against whom thou canst bring
no other cause than that, forsooth, thou feelest for him no ro-
mantic love. Thou hast given that little wilful heart unto some
other ; deny it not, for wherefore shouldst thou ? An he be of
birth and bearing, noble and faithful, and open as James of
Douglas, I will forswear even my dearest wishes, and make
thee his. Now wherefore weep, foolish girl ? dost thou so
doubt thine uncle do these words surprise thee ? Speak out,
give me the secrets of thy heart ; an thou Invest one worthy of
thee, and who loves thee so well as Douglas, I will urge no
more against thy wishes I would not give my Douglas, nor
would he accept, a divided or preoccupied heart ; but an thy
refusal proceed from nothing more than girlish wilfulness and
caprice, and love of universal dominion, my own hand shall
conduct thee to the altar, and compel thee to become my faith-
ful Douglas's bride."
The young lady was silent for many minutes after this
speech ; she had bent down her head so that the workings of
her expressive features were completely concealed by her veil-
ing hair; there was a wild tumult within she could scarce de-
fine, and certainly not control. Avow she refused Douglas be-
cause she loved another, and that other had given no cause for
love, breathed not one word save what she deemed chivalric
gallantry to say it was returned, nay, more had given her
cause again and yet again to believe his affections were engag-
ed ; from whose lips she had even distinguished words of im-
passioned love, addressed to one indeed incapable of returning
it, but still its hearer, thus mystifying his conduct more and
more avow this, lower herself thus, when every day brought
140 THE DATS OP BBUCK.
its chance of proving how vainly, fruitlessly, disgracefully to her
own proud spirit, she had loved Isoline, do this, the haughty,
independent Isoline no, no, better her heart should break,
her hand be pledged unto another, than expose herself to this.
Yet there was a struggle, a bitter struggle, for despite her
pride, she loved; and wilfully to throw aside the offer of her
king, reject her own happiness, was it well was it wise? Yet
whom did she love would be reach the standard of perfection
King Robert named who could say his birth was noble ? she
could not speak his name.
" My liege," at length she said, composedly, though in a
somewhat lowered voice, " I were indeed an ingrate to refuse
acquiescence to your grace's will, thus kindly and generously
offered ; but a woman's heart, my liege, bears not the scrutiny
of man. Bear with me a few weeks longer, give me at least the
chance of other noble maidens, the choice of husbands. There
are many noble and gallant youths in your grace's camp, de-
sirous as Douglas for this hand, all worthless as it is ; why
should I do them the injustice of refusing them for one I love
not better, though I grant him noblest, most deserving ? Let
some extraordinary deed of valor in the forthcoming strife
wia my hand and give me a husband ; all then have equal chance
hardly, for James of Douglas, an he loves me as be saith, will
bear down all opposition to obtain me, and I do therefore
accede to your grace's wishes, even while I seem to waive
" Tis scarcely justice, Isoline ; be loves thee above all the
others."
" How know I that, my liege ? let him prove it, and without
a question I will be his.
" But chance, fortune, the most untoward fates, may give
thee to one far beneath thy rank."
" Not so, my liege ; thou thyself shall mark the boundaries
of birth and station 'tis a trial of love, not ambition. I speak
but to those who pretend to value above all price my maiden
hand, and let those only essay for it. Surely thou wilt not re-
fuse me this, my royal uncle. Thou hast offered more to thy
poor Isoline ; she asks but this one more trial of Douglas's love,
and if truth he gain it, I pledge thee mine honor I will fulfil
your grace's dearest wish I will be the bride of Douglas."
" Then be it so, fair lady, Woman-like thou wouldst mark
THE DATS OF BRUCE. 141
the extent of thy power, know thine influence on men's hearts,
ere thou vowest thyself to one. Well, well, I will not thwart
thee. Thou canst demand no proof of valor Douglas will not
win ; and perchance he would glory more in thus obtaining
thee, in thus proving his devotion, than in winning thee in
peace. It shall be as thou wilt. But when proclaim thy pur-
pose when give him this bright hope ?"
" When the vast armies of which we hear so much appear,
and we may judge what deeds of valor for our countrymen
their ranks present. The evening of the day that marks them
within sight shall hear this resolve. The day that sees the
banner of England dashed down from Stirling Castle, the hag
of Scotland there upraised, the English armies scattered like
dissolving snow back to their native mountains, and Scotland
wholly, firmly, gloriously free that day shall see me betrothed
to Douglas, an he win me, or to him that doth."
" I may not quarrel with thee, Isoline, for thy spirit is but
too akin to mine," replied the king, gazing admiringly on the
noble form of his niece, as she raised herself from her cushion,
and stood loftily erect, every feature kindling with the enthu-
siasm of her soul. " Truly thou art a child of Scotland, inher-
iting thy mother's blood, and deserveth that which thou de-
mandest. I accept thy pledge. My victory shall hail thee
Lady Douglas, sweet one, ana make thee dearer still ;" he
threw his arm round her, kissed her brow, and left her. Isoline
remained standing.
" Lady Douglas," she repeated, folding her hands upon her
throbbing heart ; " did I think so, dream so, better to have died.
Have I indeed fooled away my happiness, cast it on a stake,
certain ere 'tis tried ? Yet, no, this will solve the dark and
painful mystery. If he love me he, the unknown, the name-
less, the sworn if he be free to love, will he not give me this
proof will he let Douglas win me permit aught superior in
valor to conquer him ? Never ! I have watched him : he is
brave, dauntless, valorous as the younjr. lion chafed into wrath ;
gentle, prudent. Oh, no, no; gallant, irresistible as is the Lord
of Douglas, if Amiot love me, be free to love, he will win me
still, and if not, if my heart break, what matters f But it shall
not ; no, he shall not dream my weakness, he shall not dare to
think I was mad enough to love ;" and she pressed her hands
convulsively together, compressed that beautiful lip, under a
142 THE DAYS OF BRUCE.
passion of feeling which would have laid weaker natures pros-
trate in the dust What passed in that woman's heart from
the hour of that resolution until the moment of bringing it to
proof we may not pretend to define ; Isoline's character is now
known to our readers, and her thoughts and feelings must be
imagined accordingly.
On leaving Isoline, the king turned to the apartment of Ag-
nes, who had also taken up her abode in the Convent of St.
Ninian : the change from perfect unconsciousness to approach-
ing sanity was becoming more and more apparent with every
passing month ; but, though equally certain, the waning of that
fragile form was almost unperceived. She was standing look-
ing forth from the open casement on the broad champaign
it overlooked. He approached gently, but she heard his step,
and turned towards him with a smile that thrilled, for its source
seemed deeper than the lip.
" I look for England, gentle. Robert," she said, yielding to
his paternal embrace, and laying both hands on his, " but she
comes not yet. Alas ! that rude feet and ruder spirits should
stain yon beautiful plain !"
"Yet wouldst thou not Scotland should be free?" inquired
the king, startled by her words into the expectation of a col-
lected reply. " Dearest, were Stirling ours, not a rood of earth,
much less a walled and guarded castle, can our former tyrants
claim."
"Free! King of Scotland, thou shalt be free, aye, thou and
thy country ! Said he not it would be, and did ever his words
fail ? But do not let us talk of these things ; my poor brain
reels again, and, ob, it is such pain to wake when these wild
fancies gain dominion. I will not speak thus, I will not no,
Robert, gentle Robert ; bear with me, it will, pass I shall soon
be well.'
She laid her head on his bosom, and he felt her tremble m
his arms. He did not speak, but clasped her yet closer, yet
more caressingly to his bosom, and the threatened suffering
passed.
"Is it in truth memory that maketh me thus?" she asked,
sorrowfully. " There is some change upon me ; life is not all
S resent. Sometimes my soul looks back, and it is either one
ark blank, or peopled with such a dream of horror, I could
cry aloud from very agony !"
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THE DATS OF BKTJCB. 143
"Has that dream form, mine Agnes?" inquired the king,
cautiously, yet noxiously.
"Sometimes I think it hath. I seem pressed and hurried to
and fro by a dark, shapeless crowd, struggling to escape some
scene of horror ; my eyes fix themselves on one I have seen but
in air, one that was never upon earth ; and, oh, merciful heaven,
how do I see him !" she shuddered beneath the word. " But
how can it be ? it cannot be what men term memory, for that,
they say, is of things which have been, and he, my beautiful,
he never came to earth to suffer this ; and then I see him not
in air so often, though \feel him nearer yet, and there comes
too a voice, bidding me prepare to join him. He will call me
Boon, oh, soon ; he but tries my love till then. When Scotland
is free, and thou art the king, he said, oh, he will call me to his
heart, and we shall fly up together above all sound, all sight of
earth : thou wilt not need him then."
The king could not reply, but his countenance betrayed the
emotion her words produced.
"Thou wilt miss me, king, as men call thee. Oh, there are
times when I feel as if I did not pay thee the respect thy due,
the homage paid by all else, and it seemeth as if the full mean-
ing of king came to me, and I could kneel and reverence as
others ; but when I look upon thee, words my lips have framed
depart, and Agnes only feels she loves thee, Robert."
"And only feel this, sweet one," fervently answered the
king ; " leave to others the homage of the knee. Enough, oh,
'tis a blessed enough, afflicted as thou art, to feel thou, whom
he so loved, so cherished, canst still feci love for me."
Some time longer the king lingered with her ; there was
something about her words and aspect now that linked her yet
closer to his manly heart, spoke yet more forcibly unto his love,
and despite the dim prophesyings of her clouded spirit, he never
left her without feeling hope strong within him that she would
wake from those twilights of her mind, and bless him with in-
tellectual beauty still. *
Nearer and nearer yet rolled over the whole south of Scot-
land the immense armament collected by Edward of England,
or rather by the great vassals of his crown, for the relief of
Stirling, or the redeeming of Sir Philip de Mowbray's pledge.
Even as King Robert's penetration had declared, the remon-
strances of his nobles had at length roused Edward to a sense
144 THB DATS OF BKUCE.
of his long neglect of Scotland, to a sudden resolve to awake
the might of bis kingdom. to regain her. The shout of war
rang through the land; the last remnant of the first Edward's
extensive conquests hovered on the chance of a single fight ;
its recovery opened anew a path of victory to England ; its
downfall placed the seal on Scottish freedom, pronounced her
independent, glorious in the scale of kingdoms. The visit of
Mowbray to court, the intelligence he brought, the sudden ex-
citement of his nobles, aroused Edward from his dream of lux-
urious effeminacy to all the spirit and bravery of his father's
son. He was not naturally a coward, and the exertions he now
made somewhat lessened the scornful contempt with which he
had been regarded by his barons. England, Wales, Ireland, even
France, issued their warriors, the very flower of chivalry. No
less than ninety-three great vassals of the crown brought out
their whole feudal force of cavalry, consisting of forty thousand,
every horse and every rider sheathed in mail; twenty-seven
thousand infantry were levied in England and Wales alone, and
when collected at Berwick, within ten days of the appointed
time, the whole army amounted to the almost incredible number
of one hundred thousand. A spirit of excitement pervaded
every rank. Robert the Bruce had proved himself no unworthy
opponent for the bravest knights in Christendom.
The war was deprived of that brutal ferocity which had
characterized the actions of the first Edward. Men marched
northward, simply under the chivalric feeling that a castle
was to be rescued the question of English or Scottish supe-
riority to be decided at a blow. Truly an incentive to gallant
cavaliers, and one so powerful, that the youthful Earl of
Gloucester forgot this, his first battle, was against the brother-
in-arms of his noble, still-lamented father against the very
man a father's lips had taught him to venerate and love.
Gilbertjde Clare, that Earl of Gloucester whose conduct as
the friend of Robert and the subject of Edward must be fa-
miliar to our readers, had been spared the agony of thus
marching direct against his cherished friend. He had been
cut off in the prime of life, satisfied that his son retained in his
noble-minded mother a guardian and a guide, who would well
supply his place. And she could not bear to damp the excited
spirit of her gallant boy, anticipating with unchecked ardor hia
first battle, by recalling against whom he was to raisa hia '
THE DAYS 07 BBUCE. 116
maiden sword ; but yet she could not part with him, for her
spirit was not at rest. Perhaps it was superstition, perhaps
folly ; but the shade of her departed husband seemed ever
hovering around her, with a sad and gloomy brow, and she
would have given all she most valued on earth, that her boy's
first battle was against other than his father's friend ; perhaps,
too, there was another cause. Though the daughter of one
king of England, the sister of another, her upright spirit ever
told her the Bruce's cause was just, and her spirit, endowed
with pious prescience, felt he would succeed ; defeat would
attend the arms of England, impossible as it seemed. The most
truthful reports did not give Robert more than fifty thousand
men, which, as they neared Scotland, dwindled into forty, then
to thirty, till many a gallant baron was heard to grieve at the
great disparity, declaring the victory they made sure of gaining
would scarce be glorious, scarce worth any exertion to obtain.
But still foreboding was the heart of the Princess Joan, and
urged by those mysterious impulses, which who of us has not
in some time or other of his life experienced, she resolved on
accompanying her son, on lingering with him to the end ; and
the young earl rejoiced, for he doted on her, and longed to
throw his first laurels at her feet. His was not the age of pre-
science, save for rosy-colored joy.
To this immense armament of England what had King Rob-
ert to oppose ? Naught but willing hands and hearts, so nerved
with freedom, that tney had no dream of aught save victory.
For five years victory, glorious victory, had ever crowned the
banners of their patriot king, and would she desert him now ?
No, it was the crisis of their country's fate ; England had risen
in arms but to feel to her heart's core the power of the free.
Day after day beheld fresh reinforcements ; men full of fiery
valor, impatient to behold the foe, to strike the last link of
slavery to the earth, to behold their country free ; but yet, de-
spite this patriot zeal, but thirty thousand warriors mustered
round King Robert ; tried they were in truth, but what were
they compared to Edward's hundred thousand ?
There was neither doubt nor tremor on King Robert's heart ;
but he was too good a general not to feel, and keenly, all the
disadvantages of such very unequal numbers, and not only in-
equality of number ; compared to Edward's forty thousand
cavalry he had literally none, the fugitive warfare he had been
146 THE DATS OF BRUCE.
compelled to adopt preventing all approach to the feudal tenure
of other kingdoms.
The bow was no instrument to the Scotch, and the unerring
English archer formed the greater part of Edward's infantry.
These disadvantages would have been all-sufficient to have
crushed even the most sanguine hopes, but it was not so with
Robert. Difficulty with him did but seem. to make him con-
scious of the unfailing resources of his own mighty mind, and
he prepared with perfect coolness to overcome by stratagem
what was impossible with force ; how /he- succeeded the sequel
will show. /
But one advantage Robert possessed over. and above his
foes. He could choose his ground, and thatHShoice evinced
his consummate military skill. Partly open, partly shaded by
single or grouping trees, the New Park of Stirling offered a
favorable space for the arrangement of his lines. - A bog, call-
ed New Miln Bog, stretched between the Scottish battle-ground
and the advance of the English. The brook from which h
celebrated engagement took its rufinaran foaming and. rushing
between precipitous crags to the'-elfstward, presenting an im-
pregnable defence to the forces stationed near. Opposite to
this was an extensive field of brushwood, offering^ in appear-
ante, an admirable ground for the operations of "Che cavalry,
but in reality so excavated with rows of deep pits, as to give
the earth the semblance of an immense honeycomb, and threat-
ening complete destruction to the English cavalry. Westward
rose an eminence commanding a complete bird's-eye view of
the whole plain, and divided into several craggy summits, one
of which, rising just above the Convent of St. Ninian, and di-
vided thence by a thick wood, looked also over Stirling. The
convent itself and church adjoining lay directly in the path to
the castle, and there were perhaps some amongst the sisters
not a little timorous of their vicinity to a spot likely to be
fiercely contested ; by the one party, to throw succors into
Stirling, and by the other to prevent it. The crag before men-
tioned commanded this path likewise, and on its giddy summit
the beautiful form of Isoline Campbell was more than once
perceived watching the progress of the English army, with an
excitement as great as any of the youthful knights in her un-
cle's camp.
The evening of the 22d of June found a gallant assemblage
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THE DAYS OF BRUCE. 147
of knights and nobles in King Robert's pavilion. Lord James
of Douglas and Sir Robert Keith, Lord Marsha] of Scotland,
had been dispatched that morning, by King Robert's orders, to
survey the rapidly approaching English army ; they had just
returned, full of animation and excitement, which was speedily
shared by their companions. The Lady Isoline and some of
her attendant maidens were also present, and perhaps that cir-
cumstance increased the ardor of Lord James's words and
sparkling vivacity of mien.
" How, say you, look these gallant Englishmen ?" inquired
the lady, perceiving the conference between the king and his
officers was over. " Fain would I list the tale from thy lips,
my Lord of Douglas, for truly rumor doth speak such marvels
my poor brain can hardly credit them."
" And for once rumor speaketh but the truth, believe me,
lady," he replied, eagerly. " Scotland hath never seen a sight
like this, even in her fairy dreams ; beautiful and terrible to
behold appalling, white it fascinates."
" Appalling to James of Douglas V interposed Isoline, with
a smile.
" Nay, I speak figuratively, lady. Imagine a glorious array
of moving warriors for a space of live square miles, the sun
reflected from moving steel, dazzling the eye with one blaze of
gold and silver on man and horse, so closely wedged they hut
seem one mass of gorgeous metal, whose ranks no glance can
penetrate, no eye can reckon. Troop after troop roll on like
the waves of a mighty ocean dyed in the sun's rays with every
brilliant tint, on like a whelming deluge ; over hill, and wood,
and plain, lances flash against the summer sky, a very wood of
steel ; bills and bows from thousands of infantry mingle with
the knightlier ranks in terrible array, and threaten devastation.
Oh, 'twas a goodly, glorious sight ! one that stirred the very
blood within me, and bade my hand fly to my sword, as scarce-
ly able to restrain it in its sheath."
" What ! thou wouldst single-handed have encountered such
a force, my lord ? Truly, that were wise !"
" Lady, to have defined or tempered that moment's excite-
ment was wholly vain ; the very sight roused me out of my
quieter self, till verily, I was scarce accountable for any mad
deed I might have done."
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148 THE DATS OF BBUCE.
" Methinks, then, it was well for my uncle the king that Sir
Robert Keith was near thee."
" He ! why the sight stirred his blood even as it did mine.
Believe me, lady, his soberer age rendered him no whit calmer
than myself."
" He speaks truth, lady, strange though it seem," continued
Sir Robert, smiling.
" And King Edward saw you the king ?" asked many
" We could only give a shrewd guess as to, his position,"
replied Lord Douglas, " by the phalanx of gorgeously-clad
knights, with all the magnificent banners of the great crown
vassals, forming almost a canopy of rainbows ; and chargers
ha ! many of them shall become Scotland's ere long ; and the
best and noblest shall be trained for thy use, sweet lady, an
thou wouldst honor Douglas by such charge," he added, in a
lower, more impassioned voice.
" Standards, ye have not named standards ; are they nu-
merous and gorgeous, as fitting the rest of this armament V
demanded Sir Walter Fitz-Alan ere Isoline gave reply.
" Aye, by my father's sword ! such standards as will adorn
Scotland's palace walls for many a long year, and each one
with its knightly guard, till they seemed to rise from towers of
gold or steel. The great banners of St. George, St. Edmund,
St. Edward. The standard of every noble house of England,
and pennons, streamers, penconelles, of colors glowing as the
hues of sunset, displaying pearls, and gems, and riches, which
seemed emulous to arrest the sun's beams ere they rested on
coats of mail."
"And each guarded, sayest thou?" inquired Isoline, ear-
nestly.
" Aye, and will be on the battle-field. The capture of St
Edmund and St. Edward were almost a deadlier blow to Eng-
land than the downfall of her army. Ah, lady, wouldst thou
but speak the word, wouldst give me but the promise &f one
answering smile, one approving word, one hope that knightly
valor might gain me the hand for which the devotion of a whole
life were but poor return, how gladly would I penetrate the
thickest ranks, the most impenetrable phalanx of England's
noblest sons, to lay that banner at thy feet."
" Wouldst thou indeed do this, my Lord of Douglas ?" sud-
THE DATS OF BEDOB. 149
denly interposed King Robert, who had neared his niece's seat
" Methinks, then, my gentle Isoline, this were the fitting mo-
ment for the proclamation of thy will, and nerve our gallant
knights with double valor for the onset. What sayest thou,
sweet one ? Have I thy consent to speak ?"
A deep flush mantled the cheek of Isoline for a single in-
stant, and then faded into deadly paleness, but she bent her
head in sign of affirmative, and the king continued, in his clear,
manly voice, turning the attention of every one within the tent
even from the one engrossing subject.
" Young lords and knights of Scotland," he said, " all ye
whose birth is noble, whose ancestry is loyal, whose knightly
valor hath proved ye worthy of such brave descent, and who
bear on your shields naught that can tarnish nobility or present
a barrier to a union with a daughter of the Bruce in a word,
ye amongst those who have any pretensions to the hand of the
Lady Isoline Campbell, by that true, faithful, and chivalric love
which should ever mark the devotion of a chevalier of high
degree to a noble maiden, in all things worthy of that love,
stand forth, and list the resolve which, as a true and patriotic
daughter of Scotland, she, through us, her liege and loving sire,
Amazed, yet bearing on their frank, open countenances such
unequivocal marks of delight, of hope, that none could doubt
their sentiments, no less than seven young noblemen, of the first
families of Scotland, sprung forward from different sides of the
tent, forming a close semicircle before the king and the lady,
at whose feet Douglas was already kneeling, looking up in her
face with such an expression of respectful, yet devoted attach-
ment, that that heart must indeed have been preoccupied to
resist it ; but that heart had sunk back upon itself as impelled
by a weight of lead. Were these all, all who, by manner, nay,
by word, had evinced pretensions to her hand ? her eye for a
moment glanced almost wildly round. Was he whom it sought
within that tent, and yet made no step forward even at such a
call ? What did it proclaim ? Every knight and noble had
gathered closely round the principal group, eager and wonder-
ing to list what followed ; the words of the king passed like
light from mouth to mouth. A martial form darkened the
opening' of the tent, from which the heat of the night had
caused the curtains to be drawn aside. It was Sir Amiot ; she
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150 THE DATS OF BEUCE.
saw him bend forward in earnest inquiry, followed by a quick,
almost convulsive start a glance met hers, but that was all ;
she eaw him fold his arms in his cloak, and remaining shrouded
in the folds of the curtain, his eyes, she felt fixed on her, but
making no forward movement to take his station midst those
hoping few. She forgot at that moment of deep agony one
clause in her uncle's words, or perhaps had never dreamed that
aught, in one so faithful to his country and his king, could tar-
nish his ancestral shield, and place a barrier between him and
a Bruoe. Perhaps it was well for her no such feeling came to
prevent her awakened pride ; naught but pride, the haughty,'
icy pride of a soul such as hers could have sustained her at such
a moment, strengthened her for the trial she had brought upon
herself. Almost crushed beneath the intolerable agony of that
moment the belief she had been weak enough to love, and
that love was unreturned she arose calm, collected, a flush
upon her cheek, in truth but what was that but maiden mod-
esty ? her beautiful eye flashed, her rich voice faltered not one
shadow in its deep, full tones.
" My gracious liege," she said, " the love, the devotion, these
noble lords have in all sincerity, at divers times, breathed into
mine ear, demand my grateful thanks, and will, I trust, banish
all unmaidenly freedom from my words ; I have to each and
all returned the same reply the impossibility of love like theirs
the love of power and freedom, which now mine own, I
wished not to surrender. My lords, I pretend not to deny the
first of these is still my own ; the second I am willing to re-
sign, an love be so great for me, that not alone will its bearer
be content to receive me as I am, with no pretence of deeper
feeling than sincere regard and willing word to seek the happi-
ness of him alone who wins me ; that he will adventure, in the
great battle about to join, a deed of valor worthy of his own
high merits and the lady whom he seeks. My lords, there are
fearful odds against us. England cometh with her mighty
bands as if to crush this mountain land, and by her whelming
weight, ere a single blow be struck ; yet do I a child of the
Campbell and the Bruce, a daughter of Scotland avow my
firm belief that not only will victory be ours, but glory more
transcendent than hath yet beamed over Scotland glory, from
the king to the peasant, the noble to the serf. Believing this,
then, I fear not, even in a battle on which the freedom of this
THE DAYS OF BKDCE. 151
land depends, to hazard my fate to a feat of arms, more befit-
ting, perchance, the tournay's sport than the terrible strife for
life or death. The knight who lays St. Edmund's banner at
my feet shall have my hand, and all of heart 'tis mine to give,
my true and faithful sendee for the time to come."
A burst of irrepressible gladness broke from one and all of
those most nearly interested, echoed by a heartfelt cheer of ap-
plause from those around. James of Douglas paused but to
press the band of the lady passionately to his lips, and then
sprung up with a loud, exulting cry of joy, not even her
presence could restrain.
" Mine, mine I" he cried. " When hath Douglas failed ? and
shall he now now, with such a prize before him ? Lady,
sweet lady, I will lay St. Edmund's banner at thy feet, or bid
farewell to life !"
" And the prayers of thy sovereign go with thee, my Doug-
las," whispered the king, as he grasped the young warriors
hand, drawing him from the group, while, one by one, the
youthful candidates for that glorious prize bent the knee before
the lady, and pressed the kiss of acknowledgment and gratitude
upon her hand ; and came not he amongst them? He had de-
parted from the tent; and did she need him? what cared site
for the love of an unknown, when the derotednees of the no-
blest, the best lay offered at her feet? She tarried a brief
while longer, returning with graceful courtesy, unfailing dignity,
the many compliments of those around, and then rose to depart,
refusing the escort of her devoted cavaliers ; but with a kind-
ness of tone and manner that excited love yet more, bade them
farewell till the eventful strife was over, bidding them not for
very wilfulness tempt life that but one only might win, but for
all she would retain regard and friendship, if as another's wife
they wished it still.
The Lady Isoline walked slowly from the pavilion to the
convent A guard of honor ever attended her to and fro ; but
this night so irksome was their presence, she longed to burst
away, and seek solitude and peace. Yet still she lingered on
ber brief way, as if seeking the mental pride and strength which
with every step from the eye of man gave way. One moment
she paused ere entering the woody alcove which led to the con-
vent-gate ; she had dismissed the guard, and sent forward her
attendants, struggling' for composure ere she met the inquiring
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152 THE DATS OF BRUCE.
gaze of the abbess and the sisters. Alas for the continuance
of that calm ! the figure of a knight suddenly stepped from the
deep shade and knelt before her.
" One moment, one little moment, gracious lady ; oh, do not
refuse it 1" he exclaimed, the deep, impassioned accents of that
well-known voice betraying in a single instant how utterly fal-
lacious was her dream of pride. " I will not tell thee all I
have endured, all the deep agony the words of the king have
caused. I might not join the noble few whose shields, whose
ancestral names bore no stain, no shade to sully their personal
fame, and yet, perchance, when this dark veil be removed, for
the sake of one valued by the king, even this might be forgiven,
and thy precious hand not all forbidden me. Lady, not one of
those who knelt before thee, vowing homage, love, that would
bid them rush on death to win thee, can give thee a more de-
voted heart than Amiot's. Look not on me thus upbraidingly,
thus doubtbgly ; a brief interval, and all, all shall be explained,
trust me but till then ; till, in my own proper person, my own
unshrouded name, I lay the banner of St. Edmund at thy feet,
or die. Speak, dear lady, but one word, give me but one sign
to breathe approval, to permit my struggling with this gallant
band : say but that, an I win St. Edmund's banner, the precious
prize shall be mine own, and even Douglas's self shall quail be-
fore me ; in the face of England and of Scotland, Amiot the
nameless, lonely Amiot through death itself, shall win thee,
Speak, speak, in pity ; oh ! might I breathe the love, the
mighty love I bear, have bome thee, since first tnat smile of
pitying kindness beamed like reviving dew upon my scathed
and lonely heart, 'twould weigh, perchance, against the mystery
around me a few brief days will solve it. The impending
strife, on which so much depends, gives me a name, dissolves
this dark and hated veil, gives her to freedom whose band un- .
' masks my brow, fulfils the vow of years. Lady, sweet Lady
Isoline, trust me but a brief while ; say that I, too, may seek a
prize, dearer, how much, than life !"
Isoline heard, and her limbs so trembled during this wild
appeal that she was fab, foolish as it was, to lean against a
Btalwart oak for support. The revulsion of feeling, the sudden
upspringing of that drooping heart, casting aside the leaden
chains which one moment before had bent it down to earth, as
by a sudden flash of dazzling radiance, dissolving them to
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THE DATS OF BBCCE. 153
naught, waa more than even her spirit could control. Where
now was the calm and dignified courtesy with which she had
answered the impassioned Douglas ? Did she now promise
"all of heart she had to give?" we know not the exact import
of her words, we only know there was something of a struggle
with herself, less successful in controlling impulses than usual ;
that something must have breathed from her actions or in the
music of her whispered tones, certainty more than the maiden
meant, that it could have emboldened Sir Amiot to an act
which Douglas had not dared, to pass bis arm round that lovely
form, which yielded to his support, bend down his head, as to
impress his quivering lips upon that pure and spotless brow,
then suddenly pause, with the impassioned exclamation
" No, not toll my name be told not till in the face of the
whole world I may claim thee mine ! I will not seal our
compact thus; not one blush of pain shall stain thy cheek.
Enough thy voice bath granted my boon hath spoken words
to lie on my heart of hearts, too blessed, too precious e'en for
the winds of heaven to list, lest their faintest echo pass from
me. If love may win, in the face of heaven I'll claim thee,
sweet one! oh, trust me to the end." He caught both her
hands, pressed them again and again to his lips and heart, and
vanished.
" Trust thee, aye, did an angel of heaven swear that thou
wert false !" burst from Isoline'a lips, in a tone of such thrilling,
cloudless joyance, she well-nigh started at its sound herself, so
strangely did it clash with the whelming despondency she had
lingered on that spot to conquer but a few brief moments be-
fore. Had flowers sprung up around her, or whence came
those now laughing in the moonlight? What were those glis-
tening lights on the emerald shrubs, the thousand stars in the
deep blue heavens ? Surely they had not been there before,
for as she walked from the royal tent, the air had felt oppres-
sive, and naught but cloudy mists were round her. She looked
round one brief minute, but Nature's self, all laughing as she
was, seemed tame to the welling flood of gladness that had
sprung up within her own heart, and she darted past with a
step so light, it skimmed, not touched the turf, impatient still
for solitude ; not to school that spirit to haughtiness and pride,
but to give its full tide of love and gladness vent. What cared
^Google
164 THE DATS OF BKUOK.
ebe for mystery more ? enough that he had spoken and she
trusted, for she loved.
On nearing the king's pavilion, which, for the purpose of
calming his excited spirit, Sir Amiot had made a long circuit to
avoid, eager voices met his ear, and hasty steps, proclaiming
that the monarch's guests were severally departing to their
quarters. He was greeted with unusual animation, and so many
spoke at once, be found some difficulty in comprehending them ;
at length Edward Brace's voice made itself intelligible.
"Peace, madcaps !" he shouted, authoritatively ; "let this
chevalier solitaire know what more has chanced ; somewhat,
methinks, yet more interesting to him than all of you together.
What, Sir Amiot, has kept thee aloof from the pavilion ? The
king is not best pleased ; but I have not forgotten thee. Didst
hear the Lady Isoline's proposal? 'Tis a brave girl! 'tis i
Sir Amiot bowed in the affirmative.
" Then what, in St. Andrew's name, didst thou leave us for ?
Afterwards, some bold youngster besought the king's permis-
sion to achieve a feat of equal daring, for the privilege of plant-
ing the Scottish banner on Stirling Tower, hurling down its ri-
val, and giving liberty to all the prisoners there enthralled.
Think of that, Sir A mint. Thou shall accomplish thy vow to
the very letter ; give thy fair incognita freedom with thine own
good sword, and dash that hated mask from thy face, as a good
knight should. By heaven, I was only sorry the proposal did
not come first from me ; but I supported it, believe me, with all
my eloquence, thinking but of thee, and there thou stand est,
motionless as an inanimate piece of ice, without even saying
gramercy for the thought. What ails thee, man 1"
" Pardon me, my lord, but I I hardly understand thee,"
replied the knight, gasping for breath, conscious only that some
dreadful thunder-cloud was hovering over, to burst and crush
the bright hopes of the moment before, and in that conscious-
ness absolutely losing all comprehension of Lord Edward's
words. " I I have been nay, my lord, pardon me, my brain
is giddy ; I pray you speak again."
" Why, truly, that is not thine own voice, Amiot," resumed
the Bruce, softened at once into kindness, and hurrying to the
side of the knight, he drew his arm kindly within his own.
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THE DATS OF BEDOE. 155
"What has chanced? Cheer up, dear friend; my news will
give thee new life. Thou knowest these English barons never
march to a battle, such as this will be, without the sacred stand-
ards of St. Edmund and St. Edward in addition to the grand
national banner of St. George. They imagine that no defeat
can attend them while beneath these banners, and that taken
they never can be. By God's help, we will tell them a differ-
ent tale. Isoline has chosen St. Edmund's for her own especial
prize, and has resolved whoever brings the banner of St. Ed-
ward to King Robert shall place the nag of Scotland on the
ramparts of Stirling, give life and liberty to every Scottish pris-
oner, and conduct them with all honor and chivalry to their de-
liverer's feet. Gain thou this banner, and this privilege is thine
the vow of years fulfilled."
" And where, in what position is placed St. Edward's ban-
ner?" demanded Sir Amiot, in a lone scarcely intelligible,
" near St. Edmund's ? may they not both be gained 1"
" Both ! art stark mad 1 what canst thou mean '! Nigh to-
gether ! why where is thy wonted generalship ? No, no, these
magnificent English barons are somewhat better generals than
that ; they place one in the left flank, and one m the right,
that the tug of war may be equal St. George's national stand-
ard thus doubly guarded. God's mercy, Amiot, what doth ail
thee ? thou art white and ghastly as yonder moonbeam on the
water, and thy voice sounds hollow, as if some evil spirit had
possession of thee."
" I will go exorcise him, good my lord ; give you good
night," wildly exclaimed the unfortunate knight, breaking from
Lord Edward's hold, and darting away in the direction of his
tent, with a speed, 'a suddenness, startling bis companions into
the conviction his senses were disordered.
" Better not follow him, my lords, he will recover himself
anon," interposed Malcolm, who, as usual, was at hand when-
ever his master, either present or absent, most needed him, and
who did him essential service at that moment, by preventing
the kindly intent of the Bruce and others to follow and relieve
him. He, however, tarried not, save to see his advice was fol-
lowed ; but the first glance at his master convinced him that
not even his presence could aid him now.
" To know thou lovest, and to lose thee thus 1" burst at in-
tervals from Sir Amiot's parched lips, as with fevered and ir-
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156 THB DAYS OF BRUCE.
regular strides he paced the tent; "to see others win thee
without the power of striking one blow in proof of that deep
affection I do bear thee. Merciful heaven, must this be am I
bound to do this ? Ie not her freedom gained without it my
tow fulfilled ? What have I sworn what, Holy Virgin, called
on thee to register in heaven ? To seek her liberty, life, joy,
above all things on earth ; to sacrifice all of self, of selfish hap-
piness for her who so loved me ; to let naught interfere with
this one grand object of my life, at the sword's point, through
fire, through water, through eveir horrible shape of death, to
give her freedom, if only thus it could be gained ; and do X
pause now permit even a thought of others to win a privi-
lege, that were there not another yet more precious, I bad
moved heaven and earth to gala ? More precious, mother of
mercy ! is there, should there be aught more precious to a son
than the life, the liberty of a much injured, devoted, glorious
mother? Shall I see others tamely win thee, content that
this victory will give thee freedom ? Shall I not be perjured,
dishonored as a knight, ingrate, rebellious, lost to all affection,
every duty as a son ? I will not, I cannot, Mother. I will
gain thy freedom ; I will win the power of flinging open thy
prison-gates, casting off the chains, which for eight long weary
years thou hast worn in misery ; I will do this, though it cost
me more than life ! Isoline, Isoline, oh God, mast I lose thee ?"
He flung himself on the ground, and writhed in the wild
agony of that last thought. The cold, measuring judgment
of the present day can form little idea of the mighty agony,
the whelming bitterness of that trial ; the power, the weight
of the chain which the vows of chivalry threw around their
subjects. The freedom of the Countess of Buchan was certain,
whoever gained the recompense offered by the cbivalric king;
but her son would have stood perjured and dishonored in the
sight of men, as in his own heart, had be permitted aught of
personal consideration to permit that recompense being award-
ed to other than himself. Malcolm knew this well, and there-
fore he stood silent, full of sympathy, but proffering no word,
for what could he advise ?
At length Sir Amiot, as though a light bad burst upon his
bouI, sprung from the ground in an ecstasy of renewed hope.
" And why may I not win her still ?" he exclaimed. " Were
the standards on opposite sides of the broad earth, or the one
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THE DAYS OF BROCK. 157
in heaven, the other in hell, I will win them both ! Mother
Isoline I will win both both; ye shall both be mine!"
On, on came the mighty armament of England. Early on
the morning of the 23d, intelligence was brought King Robert
of their march from Falkirk, and, without a moment 8 delay,
the patriot sovereign drew forth his rejoicing troops, to form
them in the line of battle on which he had resolved. The
drums rolled to arms ; the silver clarions and deeper trumpets
echoed and re-echoed from various sides, and under each the
gallant soldiery sprung up around their respective leaders.
Torwood seemed suddenly awake with animated life ; from
every glade, from every nook they issued ; till they stood in
presence of their sovereign in three compact and steady lines.
Mounted on a small but strong-built pony, in complete armor,
distinguished, alike by friend and foe, by a rich coronet of
chased gold around his helmet, whose vizor was up, and his
noble and eloquent countenance shaded only by long, waring
ostrich plumes of snowy whiteness, the Bruce returned, with
grave and graceful dignity, the salutations of the troops, as
they passed him to their ranks. He rode slowly along the
line once and again, and then he paused, and a deep, breath-
less stillness for a brief minute prevailed. It was broken by his
voice, clear, sonorous, rich, distinguished for many paces round.
" Men of Scotland," he said, " we stand here on the eve of a
mighty struggle. Slavery or freedom are in the balance ; mis-
ery or joy hinge on the result. I hesitate not to avow there
are odds, fearful odds against us. England hath more than
treble our number ; but, soldiers, your monarch fears not the
fewer men, the greater glory ! We shall win, we shall give
freedom to our country, fling from us her last chain, crushed
to atoms, into dust ; and to do this, what do we need ? bold
hearts and willing hands, and those who have them not, let
them now depart. Friends, subjects, fellow-soldiers, if there
be any amongst ye whose hearts fail them, who waver in their
determination to conquer or die with Robert Bruce, I give ye
liberty, perfect liberty to depart hence. Our hearts are not all
cast in the same mould, and if there be any excuse for waver-
ing spirits, men of Scotland, behold it in the whelming flood
that England's power hath gathered to appal us. Be this pro-
claimed ; I would not one hand should stay whose heart hath
failed."
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158 THE DATS OP BBDOS.
The king paused, and on the instant above a dozen trumpets
sounded, followed by the proclamation of the words of the
Bruce. His eagle eye flashed as it glanced on that patriot
band, and well was its trust fulfilled. Scarce had the echoing
trumpets ceased to reverberate, the stentorian tones of the
heralds hushed, when the wild cry of confidence, of love, of
fidelity to death, burst from every lip, so loud in heartfelt en-
thusiasm, its echo startled the myriads of Edward with its
" To the death, to the death, we will abide with thee ! thy
fate is ours, whatever it may be victory or death we will
share it ! Death hath no terror when thou art by 1 Victory
shall be ours, for 'tis the Bruce that leads ; with thee we live
or die !"
So shouted the warriors of Scotland; the meanest soldier
caught the words, and echoed and re-echoed them with such
tones of fervor, trust, and loyal love, the Bruce thrilled and
softened, even at that moment, almost to woman's weakness :
rank, order, military discipline, all were for the time forgotten.
In the centre of his soldiers, the Bruce permitted their excited
feelings full vent ; they hailed him sovereign, friend, and father
besought his blessing, and answered it by reiterated bless-
ings on himself. A few minutes, seeming almost hours si
tense was the excitement, this lasted, and then, as by magic
calmed, silent, disciplined ss before they fell into their ranks,
and waited the orders of their king. Three oblong columns,
armed with long stout lances, in equal front, formed his
first line. To his brother Edward was intrusted the right
wing ; James of Douglas and Sir Walter Fitz-Alan, High Stew-
ard of Scotland, headed the left ; and Randolph, now Earl of
Moray, the centre. Resting on the precipitous banks of the
turbid brook of Bannockburn, the approach to the Scottish
right wing was completely inaccessible. The left, on the con-
trary, appeared bare and dangerously open, but was in fact
protected by that excavated honeycomb already described,
whose destructive powers were further increased by the num-
ber of calthrops or spikes, destined to lame the English cav-
alry, scattered about. These leaders, Randolph in particular,
as bis central band more completely covered the road to Star-
ling than either flank, were commanded to prevent all attempt
to throw snccors within the castle. The king reserved to him-
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THE DAYB OF BBUCE. lfi
self the command of the second line, which, forming one
columnar mass, consisted of the men of the Isles, under their
chief Angus, from first to last devoted to the Bruce, his own
personal followers of Carrick, with those of Argyle and Can-
tire, and a select and gallant body of horse, amongst whom
were many of the young aspirants for the two proffered re-
wards. Their own eager spirits led them to desire posts in
the van, but they listened to and believed their king's assurance
that be would give them better opportunity for the exercise of
their valor than did they join the wings. To James of Doug-
las, too, a post in this troop had been assigned, Robert disclos-
ing to him his plan with regard to their service more fully than
to the others, and acknowledging he feared that, as a general,
bis attempts to reach the banner might be liable to interrup-
tion : but Douglas would not listen to this suggestion.
" I must not listen so to my own interests as to forget those
of your highness," he said, with a frank smile ; " I will do my
duty as commander, and yet find ample time for the feat of a
preux chevalier ; and let my friends yonder rest on the honor of
a Douglas. I strive not for St. Edmund's banner, till the signal
of your highness gives them equal fortune with myself."
One other charge demanded the Bruce's attention, and then
his plan of operations was complete. Every menial follower of
the camp and baggage, with the wives and children of the
soldiery, amounting altogether to some hundreds, were dis-
patched to the eminence we have elsewhere named, giving them
a view of the engagement, thus removing all the confusion of
so large and undisciplined a multitude wholly from the princi-
pal actors of the day : a plan proving of infinitely more advan-
tage to the Bruce than, at the time of its formation, he at all
imagined.
About four hours after noon, of the same day, the 23d, the
vanguard of the English came in sight; standard and pennon,
banner and plume, of every shade and gorgeous material,
gleamed in the sunshine, as moving pavilions, ere their bearers
could be distinguished. The Bruce, riding forward, his light-
ning glance seeming to rest on every point at once, fancied he
perceived a large body of men detaching themselves from the
main body of the English, and advancing cautiously through
some low, marshy ground in the direction of the castle.
" Ha !" he shouted, in a voice that called the attention of his
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160 THE DATS OF BECCK.
leaders at once. "Randolph, Randolph, there is a rose fallen
from thy chaplet ! See yon cloud of dust and lances ; they
have passed your ward."
" But gained not the goal," answered Randolph, the red flash
of indignation mounting to his cheek ; " nor shall they, my
liege though the rose be fallen, its thorn is (here. Follow
me, men !" and with about fourscore spearmen he dashed on-
ward, halted in the spot the English must pass, and, in that
compact circle of three-lined pointed spears one rank kneel-
ing, the nest stooping, the last upright which Wallace had
introduced, awaited the charge of eight hundred horse.
" In heaven's name, my liege, give me permission to go to
his assistance 1" burst at once from Sir Amiot and Douglas's
lips, at the same moment urging their horses full speed to the
side of the king. " He is lost ; an he have no relief, he must
perish. Yonder are more than ten to one. In St. Andrew's
name, give the word, and let us forward to his rescue."
" It may not be," replied the Bruce, calmly ; " Randolph
must pay the penalty of his own folly ; I cannot change the
order of battle for him." But Douglas and Amiot could not
be so turned from their generous purpose ; they continued to
plead, until a softening of the king's countenance induced them
to act as if the words of consent had been extorted from him,
and followed by about a hundred men, the knights, side by
side, rushed forward to his rescue. Already Clifford's men had
charged full speed Randolph's devoted band, but ere their
frienda bad approached within spear's length of the scene of
conflict, the English cavalry, unable to penetrate the sharp
Shalani presented to them, had fallen back in such complete
isorder, as to convince them Randolph needed no rescue ; on
every side they rolled back to use the expression of that
Scott, to whom Scotland owes so much like a repelled tide,
amid whose retreating waves Randolph's men stood like a
stubborn rock. Horses, speared and terrified, fell, crushing
many a gallant knight beneath them, and effectually barring
the onward charge of their companions ; while, without the
slightest change in rank, position, or steadiness, Randolph's
patriot band remained. With a simultaneous movement, Sir
Amiot and Douglas checked their chargers. " Gallantly done,
Randolph !" they exclaimed, the noble spirit of chivalry pre-
dominating even over its rivalry. " He hath won, gloriously
^tiz^y Google
THE DATS OF BRUCE. 161
won. Back ! he needs us not ; to stay would but tarnish his
glory," and they returned to their ranks, followed within half
an hour by the Earl of Moray and his followers, without the
loss of a single man.
" Nobly retrieved, my Randolph !" exclaimed the king,
spurring forward his palfrey to meet his nephew. " The rose
but drooped, it hath lifted up its head again, blushing with new
honors; we hail it as a bright omen of to-morrow." The
warrior bent his head to his saddle-bow, his cheek crimsoned
with very different emotion to that which had flushed it before,
and the shout with which his men answered the king's gratula-
tion gave no token of the exhaustion which for the moment
their herculean efforts had produced.
Crestfallen and disappointed, Sir Robert Clifford, with his
discomfited troops, returned to the main body. A superb
pavilion had already been raised for the accommodation of King
Edward, whom the intense heat of the weather and the fatigues
of a long march, encountered in full armor, a dress to which
the delicate limbs of the monarch were little accustomed, had
slightly discomposed ; and a gorgeous scene it presented, with
its lordly inmates glittering in radiant armor, flowing plumes,
and surcoats of thick silk, velvet, and brocade, heavily em-
broidered in gold and silver, sometimes in gems, with the devi-
ces of their wearers. They were all mostly tall, strongly-built
frames, well adapted to their martial costumes, with counte-
nances bearing that stamp of innate nobility which the rules
of chivalry so fostered and improved ; diversified indeed, but,
taking them all in all, noble specimens of the nobility of their
land. Close by the monarch's side, richly attired, and adorned
with gems, was the court minstrel, whom Edward, confident in
his victory, had brought with him to celebrate bis triumph.
Animated converse was passing amidst the nobles, participated
sometimes by the king, but more confined to themselves, as
their topics, more of war than minstrelsy and the softer dreams
of life, accorded little with the monarch's general mood. The
curtains of the pavilion were drawn widely back, so that Ed-
ward and his nobles had a full view of the field before them,
and all the operations of the Scottish army, in the front of
which the form of Robert Bruce was plainly to be seen, cara-
coling on the small horse he rode. Deep in the back shadows
of the tent the young Earl of Gloucester was standing by his
162 THE DATS OF BRUCE.
mother, sometimes speaking animatedly, but oftener more silent
and thoughtful than usual. There was an anxious tearful
affection gleaming in the princess's eyes, as they rested on his
young and graceful form, showing forth the beauty of its pro-
portions through the exquisitely light and flexible suit of Milan
steel which he wore, unencumbered by the usual surcoat which
distinguished his companions.
" Wherefore hast thou forsaken the bearings of thy rank, my
son 1" asked the princess, more to break the silence which had
fallen on them than from real curiosity. " Me thinks thou art
scarce habited as thy father's son."
" Nay, mother, look on this splendid suit of steel, methinks
thou wilt scarce find its equal amid my more gorgeously-
decked companions," be replied, with a smile ; " an thou ad-
mirest it not, beshrew me, gentle lady, I shall quarrel with
thy taste."
" An thou mightst with justice, Gilbert ; but in this, thy first
engagement, should not thy noble rank be displayed in the eyes
of all men? Think who thou art Earl Gilbert's son and
Edward's nephew."
"The first is all-sufficient, mother," answered the young
man, proudly. "lam prouder as Earl Gilbert's son than were
I king of England, not his nephew, and for that father's sake
I wear not Gloucester's bearings in the fight to-morrow. My
father would not; he would shrink in suffering from meeting
one he so loved, in deadly strife, as Bruce, though loyalty to
Edward compelled him to the field, and men shall not say his
son forgot these things."
The Countess of Gloucester looked on her noble boy, as
mournfully, yet firmly, he uttered these words, his father's
spirit glistening in his eyes, and the tears, which had struggled
for vent before, now fairly fell ; he bent down and kissed them
from her cheek.
" These were not always thy thoughts, my son," she said,
when voice returned ; " what hath recalled them now ?"
" My father's self," replied the young earl, solemnly. " Start
not, dearest mother ; in truth I did not think enough of him .
against whom my maiden sword must first be raised, I thought
but of the animation, the excitement, the glory we might reap ;
I thought but of the battle, the delight of giving my sword its
longed-for freedom, in the service of my sovereign. But yester-
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THE DAYS OF BRUCE. 163
night, in tbe visions of deep sleep, I looked again upon my
" Was it sleep, my sod ?" interrupted the countess, her cheek
blanched with the intensity of her emotion.
"It might not hare been, yet so it seemed, my mother; it
was not the thrilling awe with which methinks I should have
gazed upon his semblance had it palpably appealed to waking
sense. I had slept soundly, it seemed, exhausted by continued
marches, when gradually that sleep became less and less deep,
as if the folds of unconsciousness in which my soul was wrapt
were one by one unturned, and left the immortal spirit bare,
and purified for commune with its kindred essence passed
above. I knew not where I was ; but a shadowy cloud for a
brief interval hovered like a silvery mist around me, subsiding
gradually into the noble proportions, the majestic figure of my
father. I sprung up, I knelt before him, strutting to speak,
but without the power, yet it was more intense delight at gazing
on his face again than awe. He looked upon me, methought,
mournfully, and pressed his hand on my brow ; pushing back
my hair, as to look more fully on my face, ' Would, would it
were not against the Bruce that thou must march, my noble
boy,' lie said, solemnly and distinctly, ' and yet thy father's
spirit will hover round thee even then ; raise not thy hand
against him, his cause is blessed, let not his eye trace thee. My
blessing on thee, Gilbert ; soon, soon we shall meet again.'
Ha ! what means this what is going on there?" continued the
young earl, suddenly interrupting himself, roused even from
this tale by the sudden animated bustle round the king, and
partly, perhaps, with the wish to shake off the emotions of awe
creeping over bim, partly to give his mother more opportunity
to regain the control which had almost deserted her at this
painful corroboration of her own dim forebodings ; he gently
disengaged her almost unconscious pressure of bis arm, raised
her hand to his lips, and hastened from the tent. " What, in
St. George's name, means this ?" he demanded. " Where goes
Sir Henry de Bobun in this hot haste ?"
" Like a loyal subject, to end the war at a single blow," re-
plied Edward, with some animation. " He goes to do a goodly
service to England, to us; and the saints speed him."
"Mean you he goes against the Bruce? 'tis shame, foul
shame to knighthood, an he doth ! it cannot be."
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164 THE DATS OF BKUUK.
"To the devil with thy sqneamishness, Gloucester!" re-
torted one of the elder barons ; " all is fair in a strife like this."
" Fair, armed as he is, and on such a charger, against one
alike unprepared to receive him, and on a steed that must fall
at his first thrust ! Shame, shame on thee ! Hereford, Arundel,
for the honor of knighthood, prevent this. We are dishonored,
a hundred times dishonored, an we let this be," and the young
earl darted from the tent, followed by the earls he had named,
who, like himself, felt the dishonor of the deed, but an they
hoped to prevent Sir Henry's advance, they were too late.
Mounted on a superb charger, fresh, and pawing the ground
with impatience to spring forward, a tall, powerful, almost
gigantic man, armed from head to foot in burnished and gilded
armor, his vizor closed, his lance the length and thickness of a
young palm, beaded with sharp steel, couched for the charge,
Sir Henry de Bohun gave his steed the spur, and rushed with
such lightning swiftness across the intervening ground against
the Bruce, that those who had marked the movement held
their very breath in the intensity of anxious suspense. Glouces-
ter, uttering a cry almost of despair, remained arrested in his
flying progress, one arm raised, one leg advanced, watching in
absolute agony the effect of an encounter he felt to his heart's
core must be fatal to the Bruce ; his fears were needless. Calm
and collected, as if no danger threatened, the King of Scotland
sat his palfrey, giving no sign of preparation or even of con-
sciousness of his foe s approach, save that the fiery glance of
his eye never wavered from his movements. On came the
mighty warrior, on, on ; his lance must bear down the patriot
king ; man and horse must fall together pinioned to the earth
on, on | they near, they meet no, not meet ; the palfrey, faith-
ful to bis master's hand, swerved aside. De Bohun, carried on
by the impetuosity of his steed, passed the mark, but no
further; the terrible battle-axe of the Bruce raised in air,
flashing one moment in the sun, then fell, and cloven from his
helmet to his throat, the force of the blow shattering the battle-
axe into a hundred glittering fragments, Sir Henry de Bohun
fell dead to the ground, his terrified charger rushing wildly to
the ranks he had but five minutes previous left in pomp and
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THE DAYS OF BBUCE.
CHAPTER IX.
There was deep silence on the plain of Bannockburn si-
lence, as if not a breathing soul were there; yet, when the
shrouding drapery of night was drawn aside, when the deep
rosy tint of the eastern skies proclaimed the swift advance of
the god of day, what a glorious scene was there I Both armies
were drawn forth facing each other. The vanguard of the
English, composed of the archers and billmen, under command
of Gloucester and Hereford, forming an impenetrable mass of
above twenty thousand infantry, with a strong body of glit-
tering men-at-arms to support them, occupied the foremost
space, directly in the rear, and partly on their right ; the re-
mainder of the army, consisting of nine divisions, completely
covered and so straitened by the narrow ground on which they
stood, as to present the appearance of one immense body, from
which, as they Blowly rolled forward towards the Scots, the
rays of the morning sun played so dazzlingly on the gleaming
armor, the unsheathed steel, the glittering spears, that ever
and anon flashes of vivid light, as the blue lightning of heaven,
darted through and round the lines; a sea of plumes formed
the shadowy background of their gleaming flashes, effectually
aided by the heavy canopy of countless banners floating above
them, far too numerous, too closely mingled, for many devices
to he distinguished. In front of this immense mass, and slight-
ly in the rear of Gloucester's infantry, stood a regally attired
group of about four hundred chevaliers, in the centre of which,
gallantly mounted and splendidly accoutred in golden armor,
his charger barded in unison, bearing himself in very truth right
royally and bravely, as the son of his father, the monarch of
England sate, his white and crimson plumes falling from his
golden helmet in thick masses to his shoulder. On his right
hand rode the celebrated crusader, Sir Giles de Argentine, and
on his left Sir Ingram Umphraville, an equally celebrated Eng-
lish baron, while to Aymer de Valence, Earl of Pembroke, al-
ready mentioned in this eventful history, was intrusted the
command of the monarch's body-guard, the four hundred men-
at-arms, thus gathering round his own person a host of chivalry,
unmatched in valor and in fame, save by the one mighty spirit
166 THE DATS OF BBUCE.
who led the opposing troops. Directly behind the king, and
in the centre of his knightly guard, waved the heavy folds of
St. George's standard ; the situation of St. Edmund a and St.
Edward's will be noticed hereafter.
There was no change in the Scottish line ; it occupied ex-
actly the same position as of the preceding evening, save that
King Robert, now mounted on a war-horse, magnificent in pro-
portion, though almost gigantic in size and superbly barded, to
suit the rank of his rider, had changed his position from the
front of his lines to the spot commanding the second line, close
beside the Lord of the Isles and the men of Carrick ; con-
cealed by these, but so near as to be ready for instant obedience
to the signal of the king, stood a body of horse, and on these,
though he spoke it not, Robert depended much for the ultimate
glory of the day.
The English army paused on their whelming way, halted to
a man ; the trumpets sounded their brazen clamor the echoes
of hundreds and thousands of hoofs ceased to reverberate on
the ground. Silence had fallen on that mighty multitude, a
sudden thrilling stillness, like the awful bush of nature ere the
bursting of a storm. It was at that moment a form was visible
on that craggy summit rising midst the woods of St. Ninian'a,
visible to all ; for from that point the whole battle-plain, with
its opposing armies,, lay clear as a map, displaying every nook
of ground, every movement of each army, without one hidden
point there stood that form, its dark drapery distinctly traced
against the summer sky, visible to all, but noticed only by a
few. Was it the near advance of the foe, the nearing of that
eventful moment, the strife for victory or death, which caused
two hearts within King Robert's army to throb almost to pain
the Lord of Douglas, Sir Amiot of the Branch ? Both had
looked on death, had hoped for victory too often and too long
for this. But not yet could the form of the Lady Isoline
Campbell meet their glance, yet find those hearts unmoved
one doubting glance ; for could it be could it indeed be Iso-
line ? It was but the doubt of the moment, for they knew hers
was not a character to remain in passive endurance at the altar's
foot. She could face danger, she could gaze on death, and she
would witness the fate of her country, watch the progress of
her own, whatever it might cost her, rather than mail as others,
calmly, passively, the result. Both warriors knew this ; and
D^cay G00gle
THE DATS OF BRUCE. 167
if Douglas had needed further incentive to the superhuman ef-
forts he had inwardly sworn to use, that glance had given it ;
prouder he sate his charger, more loftily erect, and there was
a glowing spirit of heroism in his sou], that might not speak
defeat.
And how felt Sir Amiot? Still, graceful as a sculptured
statue, he sate his horse, whose sable hide, unspotted by a sin-
gle hair of white, seemed well adapted to the dark, sombre
armor of his master ; the vizor of the helmet was of course
closed, its heavy raven plumes lay resting on bis shoulder,
scarcely moving, so perfectly motionless was the attitude of
the knight, by the breeze that so softly and revivingly swept
by. His answers to his sovereign's animated converse had
been so soldierlike and to the point, as usual, that Robert
dreamed not the thoughts at work within that manly breast,
guessed not bow wholly, how painfully they were engrossed.
The knight gazed upon that beautiful form, looked as an enthu-
siast votary on the idol of his adoration, and he felt that midst
that multitude her heart's gaze was upon him ; yet how dared
he rejoice it was so ? A sickness as of death crept over him ;
she was there to witness his efforts to obtain her, to bless him
with the encouragement of her angel presence and what
would she behold ? Oh, who may speak the agony of that
one moment, crushing his very soul ! he felt as if his whole
frame were bowed before it to the earth, on which he almost
wished to lay when that fight was over, midst the glorious
dead. She might weep him then. Despair was on his heart
black, cold, nerveless despair. Yet hope struggled up from
the turbid chaos ; he would triumph, still triumph ! and the
banner of St. Edward waved in air, divided from St. Edmund's
by the whole extent of the intervening line, the one at the ex-
treme right, the other at the extreme left, presenting insupera-
ble obstacles to his ambition, rendering the very dream of gain-
ing both the mad coinage of an unsettled brain.
The Lady Isoline gazed on the scene beneath her, for the
first moment so wholly wrapped in a species of thrilling awe
and exciting admiration as to lose entirely the recollection how
much her own happiness depended on the event. She heard
not the half-timorous, half-suppressed exclamations of wonder,
admiration, and terror, breaking in a strange medley from her
companion, an attendant who had conquered her own fears of a
^tiz^y Google
168 THE DATB OF BBUCE.
battle rather than her beloved lady should look on such a sight
alone. For one minute Isoline Campbell was an enthusiast, a
patriot seeing nothing, feeling nothing but the glory of her
country, the danger to which it was exposed the belief, con-
viction, certainty, she would triumph over all ; the next she was
but a woman, a loving woman, seeing but one amidst that won-
drous mass, trembling lest she had exposed him unto death.
Why did he not look up, give one sign he saw, he felt her
presence ? One moment she thought thus, the next reproached
herself for wishing one thought apart from Scotland at a mo-
ment such as this.
' Suddenly, and so simultaneously it seemed but the movement
of one man, the followers of her uncle, the assembled troops of
every class and every line, sunk one knee to earth ; plumes min-
gled with the manes of the chargers, as every helmeted head
bent down in lowliest adoration. A half shout of exultation
seemed waking from the English ranks, as if they deemed it
was in acknowledgment of their superiority this lowly homage
was paid ; but speedily the shout sunk into murmurs, then died
away, as the cause of this unexpected movement became visi-
ble. Bareheaded, barefooted, his silver crosier in his aged
hand, Maurice, Abbot of Inchaflray, in full canonicals, followed
by five monks, slowly and majestically passed before the Scot-
tish lines, in loud, unfaltering tones pronouncing his blessing on
their brief though fervidly-breathed orisons, and on their pat-
riotic purpose. There was no tremor in his step, no faltering
in his voice, and, struck with admiring awe, the English hushed
the signal for the onset on their very lips.
Isoline watched the progress of the venerable man with an
intensity of interest that checked the words of prayer, though
they had language in her heart. He passed from her sight ;
the warriors sprung from their kneeling posture ; the knights
sat anew, erect and firm, on their pawing chargers. A hun-
dred trumpets sounded from the English line, followed by a
rush like thunder, and a discharge of arrows so thick, so close,
the very air was darkened ; they dispersed, and again the
whole field was visible to Isoline. Onward, in full career
against Edward Bruce's left wing, the Earls of Hereford and
Gloucester rushed ; but one glance sufficed to prove somewhat
bad chanced to discompose their steady union, and that they
had rushed forward to the charge with infinitely mure of rival -
)3i K:: , Google
THE DATS OF BRUCE. 169
ship than order. Again and yet again they strove to penetrate
the solid ranks of the Scottish spearmen ; horses rolled on the
earth, flung headlong back by the massive spears, leaving their
masters, often unwounded, to the mercy of their foes. Fiercely
and valiantly the earls struggled to retrieve their first error, and
restore order to their men-at-arms. Indignant, almost enraged,
Gloucester fought like a young lion, and little did his enemies
imagine the youthful knight, whose mighty efforts excited even
their admiration, was the very noble for whose safety their
monarch was so aniious, that almost his last command had
been to spare the Earl of Gloucester.
Meanwhile, taking advantage of this confusion, Douglas and
Randolph, at the head of their respective divisions, attacked
with skill and admirably tempered courage the mass of in.
fantry, who stood bewildered at the unexpected discomfiture of
the body they had looked to for support ; the charge, however,
roused them to their wonted courage, and they resisted nobly.
Again the archers raised their deadly weapons to the ear, and
again the air became thick with the flight of arrows, longer,
heavier, more continued than before. Their effect was too soon
perceived in the ranks of the spearmen ; many places left void,
which bad received unmoved the charge of the men-at-arms.
Quick as the lightning flash. King Robert darted along the line.
" Now, then. Sir Robert Keith, on for Scotland the Bruce and
liberty !" he shouted ; and quick as the words were spoken,
the Marshal of Scotland, at the head of four hundred men-at-
arms, wheeled round full gallop, and charged the English bow-
men in the flank and rear with such vigor and precision, as
speedily to turn them from their fatal attack upon the Scots to
their own defence a defence which, as they had no weapons
save their bows and short hangers, was of little service, ill.
conducted, and of no effect against the cavalry ; they fell in
numbers, and thicker and thicker waxed the confusion and the
strife. It was now the Scottish archers' turn to gall their ad-
versaries : the flight of arrows fell swift and true ; and still,
despite the vigorous proceedings of the Scottish troops, the
greater part of Edward's mighty army remained wavering and
uncertain in their position. Now and then a body of gallantly
accoutred horse rushed forward, joining indiscriminately in the
Xnttie, but neither order nor steadiness marked their move-
ments, Edward himself indeed proved worthy of his high
YQi. ii,
170 THE DATA OF BEUOE.
descent ; his white and crimson plumes waved alternately in
every part of the field, marking that no lack of personal bravery
was there, though the talents of a general were either much
needed, or the confined and unequal ground utterly frustrated
effectual movements of the horse, and rendered the greater
strength of Edward's army literally useless.
The Bruce had returned to his post ; his eagle glance moved
not for an instant from the field. Order had disappeared from
the English ranks, their massive bands broken through and
through, tottering, falling like gigantic columns shaken by
mighty winds ; while firm, cool, inflexible, the bodies of the
Scotch rushed amongst them, dealing destruction at every step,
proving superiority, valor, strength, in the very face of num-
bers. Straggling, wavering troops from the main body of the
English still joined the scene of action, imagining by force of
numbers to turn the day. All was confusion ; the clash of
arms ; the rush of horse ; the heavy fall of hundreds, in then-
onward charge, in the pits prepared ; knights rolling on the
sward, receiving death often from the hoofs of their own steeds
ere the avenging sword-stroke of their foes.
" See, lady, see the gallant Douglas, how gloriously he bears
himself I" at length exclaimed the companion. of the Lady Iso-
line, unable longer to remain silent, much marvelling at the
lady's taciturnity. " There waves St. Edmund's banner. I
marvel he lets it remain so long unsought."
" He seeks it not alone, girl. The Douglas i3 too noble to
attempt its capture till the Bruce gives the signal, and permits
the young nobles round him to seek it too. Ha, merciful
heaven I see yon English knight who hath borne himself so
valiantly ; he totters on his horse, his very armor seems con-
cealed in blood. Oh, spare him, Douglas ! Who may
he be 1"
"Noble, lady, by his bearing and his heading that foremost
line. Wherefore doth he not wear the surcoat like his com-
panions ? we should know him then. Ah ! they are parted
by the rush of battle, his plume waves on the other side of
the field."
" The saints be praised ! I would not Douglas's hand should
slay him, he bears himself so nobly. Yet, alas ! how many are
there like him in yon field of blood ; why should I lament him
more than others ? Hark, a trumpet sounds ! there is a move,
THE DATS OP BRUCE. 171
men t in the king's line. Now then oh, mother of mercy, give
me strength, I will look upon them still I"
So spoke Isoline, her heart throbbing almost to suffocation,
as she recognized in the movement of her uncle the signal for
that general rush to hand-in-hand engagement which permitted
space and time for the ardent aspirants to her hand to seek and
win the prize.
The voice of the Bruce met her ear, but its strained sense
could not distinguish the words, though her heart conceived
them. Galloping from line to line, " Forward, young knights,
seekers of love and glory, St. Edmund and St. Edward wait
ye !" he exclaimed. *' Lord of the Isles, my hope is constant
in thee !" and dashing down the slope on which he stood,
rushed into the thickest of the fight, followed by all his reserved
troops, and for the first moment closely surrounded by the gal-
lant band of youthful chevaliers, whose ardent spirits had been
with difficulty so long restrained ; fresh, eager, joyous, on, on
they charged, seeming, in the confusion of their foes, infinitely
more numerous than in reality they were, turning retreat to
flight, wavering to retreat; hundreds, nay, thousands turned
from that fatal field, leaving uncounted thousands struggling
gloriously still."
"They retreat tbey fly, bearing the banner with them.
Lady, lady Douglas, Strathallan, Eraser on, on they rush ;
they will gain it still. Now they halt ; they have gathered
round it ; numbers flock to join them, double, treble file. Lady,
sweet lady, thy cheek hath grown white, thy limbs tremble ;
let us away."
" No, no, no 1" reiterated Isoline, sinking even as she spoke
upon the grass ; "it is folly weak, cowardly folly. Mine
eyes ache with the glare of sunshine on so many coats of steel,
'tis nothing more. Look forth, my girl, do not heed me ;
tell me, Sir Amiot, the Knight of the Blighted Branch, seest
thou not him goes he not with Douglas ? I have lost him
in the crush of men and horse around the king ; yet he is there,
I know he is there he must be there."
" Wears he not a sable plume rides he not a sable horse,
unmatched for blackness in. our army ? He is yonder, look
thyself, sweet lady; alone he rides, well-nigh alone. Why,
'tis madness ; St. Edward's banner is stilt guarded by a host of
knights, with pointed lance and barded chargers ; he cannf
reach it he is mad ; no, there are other knights on the same
"St. Edward's, saidst thou St. Edward's ? 'tis St. Edmund's
thou must mean ; Sir Amiot seeks St. Edmund's. Girl, thine
eyes deceive thee."
" I cry thee mercy, lady, but they do not ; see, see, thyself
the Douglas is on one side of the field. Sir Amiot on the
" "Pis false it must be false !" burst indignantly from the
lady's lips, and, endowed with sudden return of strength, she
sprung up. She looked with desperate calmness on the scene
below ; all was strife fierce, hot strife of horse to horse, and
man to man. On the brink of Bannockburn, the extreme right,
a massive body of men-at-arms had made a desperate stand
around the sacred banner of St. Edmund, falling in their ranks,
yet still presenting an unbroken front to the Douglas and the
rival knights, who, each seconded by their respective followers,
sought with desperate courage to reach the much-desired piize.
Refusing all credence to the words of her attendant, so firmly,
so truthfully did she trust, Tsoline first glanced there, but the
form of the Lonely Cavalier answered not that glance. Despite
the press, the rush, the turmoil, every form was distinct to that
penetrating gaze ; she could even at that distance recognize the
various bearings of the young nobles who had so eagerly sought
her hand ; not one was wanting, but that one whom most she
trusted to behold. Desperately, without the utterance of a
single syllable, she turned, and with a shuddering anguish, turn-
ing her whole mass of blood it seemed to ice, she beheld,
recognized the form of Sir Amiot, urging his horse full speed,
far, far in advance of his companions, with about a score of
lances and some fifty men on foot, directing his headlong way
to the extreme left, where, still surrounded by its guard of
men-at-arms and billmen, the banner of St. Edward waved un-
sullied. She saw, she felt every cherished dream was over ;
then came upon her soul such a dark chaos of troubled fancies
which no effort of her own could dispel ; the belief for one
brief moment that he had played upon her feelings, had de-
ceived her, the next she flung it from her soul, indignant with
herself; he could not deceive. If she lost him forever, she
would trust him, aye, trust, till his own lips proclaimed him
false. There was mystery dark, impenetrable myslery ; they
TUB DAYS OF RKDCE. 173
had told her of the recompense attendant on the capture of St.
Edward's banner, but what was that to him ? then came the
delivery of the prisoners, and then one dark and terrible sus-
picion, and then again she cast it from her.
"No, no, no!" she inwardly reiterated; "that vow, that
fearful vow hath come between him and his love. When be
bowed down bis knee, avowing his long-hidden love for me, he
knew not of this second meed of valor ; he dreamed not the
fulfilment of his vow should come between us. Araiot, Amiot,
there is indeed dark mystery around thee, yet, yet, I will trust
thee ; lost to me as thou art, I will not believe thee false ! Oh,
why didst thou not speak ? why leave this too proud heart so
long doubting that which it bo longed* for? Lost, lost, and
through my own folly I how may I bear this ? God of mercy !"
she burst forth aloud, " he will fall through bis own rashness ;
he cannot pierce that wall of steel oh, save him, save him 1"
Her own voice rang shrill and mocking in her ears, for who
'mid the rude clamor reigning below might hear and answer
it ? The strife was becoming more and more general, more
and more deadly, despite the multitude in rapid retreat. Ed-
ward of England still kept his ground, flying from post to post,
from group to group, urging, impelling, conjuring them still to
stand, to recall the ancient glories of bis father, and make one
last effort for England's honor : and struck by this unexpected
spirit in their much-abused sovereign, his warriors, rallying the
drooping spirits of their men, still presented a formidable front
to their determined foes. The order of battle was utterly
broken ; but above a score of detached groups still struggled
on, falling on both sides without giving in one inch of ground.
Already the excellent generalship of the Bruce waa evident ;
the pride, the flower of English chivalry lay helpless in the pits
prepared to check the evolutions of the horses, falling before
the pitiless swords of the lower soldiery, or surrendering them-
selves unresisting prisoners to their leaders. Ever and anon
came a rush like thunder of flying steeds, proclaiming some new
retreat, followed headlong by the victorious Scots, whose thrill-
ing shouts of triumph angered well-nigh to madness their flying
foes. The noble form of the Bruce, carrying victory, glory
wherever he appeared, welcomed with rejoicing cries by his
own men, who, even as they fell, felt that if their dim glance
caught him they looked on triumph, and by their enemies as
174 THB DAT8 OF BRUCE.
one bringing defeat, captivity, death. Here, there, everywhere,
as possessed for the time with ubiquity, his glorious form was
Been ; his white plume waring high above his fellows, its spot-
less purity unsullied by one sanguine stain, one tinge of dust.
The bravest barons of England shunned his sword, deeming it
scarce shame to turn aside and refuse combat with one invulner-
able as himself. Scathless the monarch of Scotland rode that
field ; the distant arrow bounded harmless from his faultless
armor ; the weapons, close at hand, turned ere they struck one
blow ; the lance had no power to turn his gigantic charger from
his onward way ; and thus he seemed, alike in view of friends
and foes, the spirit of that mighty strife, the sou] of victory, on
which no mortal hand had power.
While this general struggle thus continued, neither Douglas
nor Sir Amiot had relaxed their herculean efforts. Around
the rival banners the battle in truth waxed hottest ; for so
great, so intense was the desire to possess them, not a Scots-
man fell but bis place was instantly filled up with warriors as
hot, as eager as had been the dead. On through the closely-
pressed lines, followed by about a dozen men-at-arma, spears
threatening destruction both to man and horse, swords clashing
against swords, with a heat, a velocity, only slackening in death,
' well-nigh surrounded, wholly cut off from hb friends by a thick
wall of hostile steel on, within twenty yards of St. Edward's
banner. Sir Amiot still struggled, possessed in seeming of a
fiant's strength, a power to ward, to attack, to guard, to return
low for blow, all at one and the same moment, till his very
foes gazed at him almost in awe, and had it not been for very
shame, would have shunned a blade that seemed by magic
charmed. On, on, yet closer, but still a double, aye, triple fire
of men and horse circled the banner ; they closed round the
desperate knight, in front, in Hank, in rear ; a dozen War-cries
shouted the advance through death. The companions of Sir
Amiot, believing the enterprise for them impossible, bore
slightly back, and alone, amid that armed multitude, alone,
amid scornful shouts of victory,' of jeers on his rashness, still
woke in ringing tones the war-cry of Sir Amiot.
" On, for freedom freedom for the prisoners of Scotland !
Amiot to the rescue rescue to the death !" and his sword fell,
carrying death with every word.
At that moment new shouts arose of triumph, of despair ; the
THE DAYS OF BBUOE. 175
closing ranks fell back, appalled by the sound, and still more
by the apparition that sound preceded. On the brow of the
lull rising behind the Scottish lines, an immense body of men,
with an incongruous assemblage of flags, banners, poles, and
rustic weapons, suddenly springing it seemed from the bowels
of the earth, and in the net of rushing down the slope with
terrible cries, and clanging drums and uncouth horns, sending
such terror to the hearts of England's lordliest warriors, that
all thought save of flight departed from them. The very
Scotch themselves were startled, though scarcely able to sup-
press a smile, when recognizing in this new army the servants
or gillies, women, and children, followers of the camp, sent
there for safety, but who, incited by the patriotic spirit of their
victorious countrymen, rushed down to the plain to share the
triumph and the spoil. The English waited not to examine the
origin of their suddenly-awakened panic, the divisions still com-
pact gave way ; they sought to rally the staggering columns,
to give them once more force and firmness, but in vain. On
every side the trumpets sounded retreat, and fast, fast as their
panting steeds might fly, the English fled that fatal scene. The
lines around St. Edward's banner faltered with the rest ; those on
the rear and flank of Sir Amiot fairly turned, offering such slender
resistance to the Scottish knights who stood in their path, that
ere he knew the cause Sir Amiot suddenly found himself
gallantly reinforced ; but he was scarcely conscious of it, head,
hand, foot, all employed in every movement of his foes ; in re-
sisting every weapon raised against him ; in urging on his faith-
ful horse, while a score of lances broke against his steel-clad
sides. They turn they fly ; the banner seems within his reach,
one leap will gain it J forward above a hundred yards in ad-
vance of his companions fought the Lonely Cavalier, first in
pursuit ; they bear the sacred banner in their flight. Sir
Amiot rushes onward, nor spur nor rein hath slackened ; he
nears, so close, so fiercely, they rally once again, they close
round their precious charge, but in vain headlong, inspired,
Sir Amiot penetrates the glittering phalanx, his hand is on the
banner-staff; one by one its gallant defenders fall beneath his
sword ; his mother's voice is sounding in his ear, his mother's
smile, and look, and form are gleaming before him ; shall be
fail now ? no, no ; appalled, his enemies shrink back from his
reeking sword, one struggle to retrieve their loss, and they turn,
Google
176 THE DAYS OF BKOCE.
they fly. A wild exulting shout buret from Sir Amiot's men,
but bis lips breathe no word, though bis task is done ; high,
high in the air he waves the sacred banner his own, unan-
swerably his own and round bira the young knights throng,
nobly striving who first amidst his eager rivals should proclaim
him victor.
" Not now, not now !" he shouted, almost breathless, " not
yet may I pause ; enough, ye own me victor. Fitz-Alan, bear
thou this glorious charge till I may claim it ; ask me no ques-
tion, give me but way I have more, yet more to do."
Sir Walter Fitz-Alan joyfully caught the banner, checking
with an effort the question on his lips. There was an irresist-
ible eloquence in the tone of his impassioned voice, in the
beaming flash of bis large dark eye, carrying bis own hope and
daring energy to the hearts of his companions ; they opened a
passage for him. He darted on, foam and blood well-nigh
concealing alike the armor and the color of his steed. One
glance he gave towards the crag, that form was there, still
there ; an impulse he could not resist caused him, even at such
a moment, to lift his helmet from his brow, to wave it in the
air. Did his eyes deceive him, or could it be even then, then
when the heart of any ordinary woman must have doubted,
scorned him he saw an answering sign, a blue scarf as a pen-
non floated on the breeze ! Fancy or reality, the effect was
such as to make him dash the helmet to the earth, instead of
replacing it on his head, wholly unconscious, in the reviving
hope of that one moment, that he had done so, to clasp his
hands together in a speechless ecstasy of joy, to snatch the
reins, plunge his spurs once more into the sides of his gallant
steed, and dash on his headlong way. He saw the banner of
St. Edmund yet waved amidst its gallant guard, about a mile
from the scene of action, as if the fugitives had there made
their determined stand, resolved to perish ere they yielded ;
still his eye traced the towering form of Douglas, foremost
against his foes, dealing, as himself had done but a few minutes
previous, destruction with every blow ; so rapid were his evolu-
tions both of steed and sword, the eye ached with the effort to
define them. On, on darted Sir Amiot, dashing down every
opposing sword, every obstacle that crossed his headlong way ;
on, on, over unnumbered slain, over chargers rolling in the
death agony on the grass, over pools whose gory waves gave
THE DAYS OP BRUCE. 177
fearful evidence of the strife that had been there ; on, tbrougR
the brook of Bannock, turning with shuddering horror even at
such a moment from making a bridge of the hundreds and
hundreds of slain which encumbered the stream, so as com-
pletely to fill up its waters ; staggering, failing, almost ex-
hausted, still the noble animal he rode, as if conscious of the
precious prize he sought, bore him gallantly up the steep bank,
on with renewed swiftness in the direction of the banner ; he
neared the scene of strife, not a quarter of a mile divided him.
Still the banner waved in air, still the Douglas, chafed by this
long struggle, almost beyond his usual moderation, struggled
fiercely, terribly to penetrate those ranks, leaving every other
competitor far in the rear ; some of them must have fallen, for
Sir Amiot traced but two beside him, and nerved with double
hope, with an energy that appeared bright promise of success,
wholly insensible of fatigue, of loss of blood, of all save that
Isoline might yet be bis own, the knight rushed on ; his horse
staggered, relaxed, made one desperate forward leap, and fell.
Another minute and Sir Amiot regained his footing, though
with a dizzy brain and quivering frame ; still he struggled to
spring forward, he stood within a hundred yards of the desired
post. A loud shout rent the air, the last man beside the ban-
ner lay dead beneath the hoofs of the Douglas's steed, the
hand of Douglas had wrenched it from the earth where it was
planted, had held it aloft, while shout after shout proclaimed
his victory. The earth reeled beneath Sir Amiot' s feet ; sight,
hearing, Bense seemed flying. He looked up to that same crag,
the form he sought was gone, or his eyes refused to recognize
it ; there was a dead weight on heart and brain, a cessation of
every pulse, a failing of every limb, and the young warrior
sunk to all appearance lifeless on the earth.
While these momentous events were taking place in different
parts of the plain. Sir Giles de Argentine Lad succeeded in
forcing his sovereign from the fatal field. Fiercely Edward
had contended, exposing himself a hundred times to death,
imprisonment, danger of every kind, flying from post to post,
seeking by every possible effort of high personal valor to turn
the tide of battle.
" Away, away I" he cried, as Sir Giles seized the reins of his
horse, and urged him forward ; " where are De Vesay, Mont-
ford, De Clifford, Mareschal ? Have I not seen them fall?
178 TBE DATS OF BBtfCB.
Is not their blood around me ? Leave me, De Argentine ; my
people hate me, they will hate me more for this, though God
wot, all that man might do to avert this evil I have done.
Leave me to lie with those more valued than myself."
"My liege, it shall not be," firmly replied the crusader.
"Do not speak thus, it ill befits thee as England's king or Ed-
ward's son. A monarch's life is not his own ; wert thou other
than thou art, De Argentine were the last to compel or counsel
flight, but as it is, thou shalt live, my liege, to make thy people
love thee."
" They will not, they will not," resumed the unfortunate
monarch; "and wherefore wouldst thou lead me? Leave me;
seek my sister, bear her in safety. Gloucester, my noble
Gloucester, where is he ?"
" Away, away !" answered the knight ; " they press upon us
close. My Lord of Pembroke, bring round your men, see to
the king."
De Valence heard the words, and with a skilful manoeuvre
completely encircled the person of the king, and on they fled,
keeping close and firm, till the press of the battle was left far
behind.
" Now then, farewell, my liege," exclaimed the crusader, as
for one brief minute he threw himself off his steed, knelt at
Edward's stirrup, raised his hand to bis lips, and then sprung
anew into his saddle. " I leave thee in safety j it is thy duty
to retreat, it is mine to die. Never did an Argentine fly. Fare-
well" He set spurs to his charger, and ere Edward could ut-
ter one word in reply he was out of sight.
Again the terrible war-cry, " Argentine, Argentine I" re-
sounded on the battle-plain, followed by the figure of the un-
daunted warrior, charging full speed the thickest of the Scottish
ranks, forward, still forward, though utterly alone. " Yield,
yield thee honorable prisoner," burst from hundreds of voices,
but he heeded or heard not the appeal ; they would have saved
him, they sought to elude his desperate purpose, but De Ar-
gentine, resolved on death, flung himself into the hottest of the
strife, and found it; he fell, covered with glory as with wounds.
Evening at length fell upon the victors, tbe pursuers, and the
flying ; the sounds of war, the cries of the dying, the shouts of
the victor, bad sunk into silence on tbe battle-plain. Troop af-
ter troop of the victorious Scots had returned, bringing with
THE DATS OF BBDCB. 179
them prisoners of the first rank Had consequence. The slain
lay in immense heaps over ihe field, covering the country for
miles ; hundreds and hundreds of splendidly caparisoned char-
gers lay side by side with their noble masters; others were
galloping, riderless, over the field, trembling with terror, shriek-
ing fierce with pain. But when the summer moon rode high in
the starlit heavens the scene was changed. Surrounded by his
nobles, knights, and soldiers, bareheaded, and lowly bending to
the blood-stained earth, the King of Scotland knelt, to join in
the fervent thanksgiving offered up by the Abbot of Inchaffray
to that Almighty God of battles, from whom alone king and
noble, knight and serf, acknowledged with heartfelt humility
that glorious triumph came. Not a sound broke the solemn
stillness, save the fervid accents of the venerable man, the deep
responses from the thousands kneeling round. There, in sight
of the dead, the dying, the silvery moon gleaming back from
the armor they had bad no time to doff, the weapons they had
wielded so bravely and well, cast from the hands now crossed
upon their breasts in prayer, the unhelmeted heads low bent
there was that victorious army, there the bold hearts, conscious
of but one almighty thrilling emotion, urging to a burst of
thanksgiving equal in intensity to its exciting cause ; their souls
sprung up rejoicing. The last link of slavery was broken they
were free ! Scotland was free ! #
A brief while they knelt in devotion, and then again all was
joyous bustle and military life. Officers and soldiers alike
crowded round their sovereign, to every one of whom he had
a word alike of greeting and of thanks, eagerly scanning the
features of each, as fearing even in that moment of triumph to
find some loved and valued one amidst the slain, but even this
alloy was spared him ; his loss had been so small, that but two
knights of any consideration, Sir William Vipont and Sir Wal-
ter Boss, were amongst the slain; several nobles indeed were
seriously wounded, and amongst them some of the brave com-
petitors for the hand of Isoline, whose energy and desperate
valor had led them into danger.
" Douglas where is Douglas V asked the king, impatiently,
and a dozen voices answered be was still on the pursuit, bear-
ing St. Edmund's banner as his prize.
" He was the victor, then. Now every saint in heaven be
praised !" ejaculated Robert. " Douglas, my noble Douglas,
180 THE DATS OF BBUCF-
tbere needed but this to render this day's triumph complete ;
and St. Edward's, whose valiant arm plantcth St. Andrew's
banner on Stirling's loftiest tower whose glorious task gives
liberty to her captives ?"
" Sir Amiot of the Branch I" was the unanimous reply.
" Ha ! my noble Amiot ; 'tis as we suspected. Where is the
gallant knight why claims he not his own ?"
" He will to-morrow, good my liege," the light form of Mal-
colm the page pushed through the lordly crowd to answer the
question. " He is faint from loss of blood though, praised be
the saints, not fatally wounded. He commends himself to your
highness, and trusts by to-morrow's dawn to demand his rec-
ompense."
" 'Tis his ere asked," replied the king. " Say we greet him
lovingly and rejoicingly, and grieve he is not by our side. We
will visit him ourself ere we seek repose. Ha 1 Fitz- Alan, me-
thought 'twas from thy hand St. Edward's banner waved, and
looked to greet thee victor?"
" Nay, I was but its hearer for Sir Amiot, good my liege,"
replied the young knight, modestly. " I might not hope to
outvie him in the pursuit of this precious charge."
'.' But thou wert close behind him, Walter," answered the
king, laughing. " Thou art a good knight and true, and hast
nobly won thy spurs."
The young warrior bowed low, with cheeks glowing with un-
feigned pleasure.
"Had not his horse failed him, the Douglas had had a pow-
erful rival even for St. Edmund's in this same Sir Amiot, ' ob-
served another of the group. " By my knightly faith, I never
saw such mighty strength and prowess."
" St. Edmund's ! sought he St. Edmund's? ha!" exclaimed
King Robert; but what further he might have said was inter-
rupted by the hasty entrance of his brother, followed by about
ten men-at-arms, in the centre of whom stood an English
prisoner.
"In this prisoner," said Edward Bruce, fiercely, "I bring
your highness an attainted traitor, one deserving death Alan
of Buchan."
An exclamation of surprise, triumph, and execration, all
strangely blended, ran through the crowd, save from the king
^tiz^y Google
THE DATS OF BRrCE. 181
" That Alan of Buchan 1" he said ; " thou art mistaken, good
brother. We could swear that were not the Alan we have
known, by this first glance, even before we see his face. Why,
when Alan disappeared, he would make two such men as he.
Unhelm him ; ye surely cannot all have forgotten the noble son
of Isabella."
He was instantly obeyed, and on the removal of the helmet,
a movement to which the prisoner made not the least resistance,
a face was discovered so wholly unlike the bold, frank, noble
countenance of the young heir of Buchan, which even nearly
eight years had failed entirely to erase from the recollection of
his countrymen, that Edward Bruce himself started back aston-
ished. There was the raven hair, the dark eye, in very truth,
features which had been so often brought forward by rumor in
confirmation of his identity, but the eipression of which they
formed a part was as unlike that of Alan as night from day.
His was all expression, this was an utter blank; not devoid,
perhaps, of regularity of feature, but wholly of that sparkling
intellect, the enthusiastic spirit, which had so characterized Sir
Alan, who resembled his mother to an almost extraordinary
degree; and if there were any likeness in the face of the pris-
oner, it was to the Earl of Buchan, save that that which in the
earl was harsh and dark, in him was softened into a blank ; his
figure, too, though apparently well proportioned, was peculiarly
slight and effeminate, whereas Alan's had been vigorous, and
tall as a sapling pine. The young man made no attempt at
concealment, nor did be seem to shun the stem looks he en-
countered.
"Who and what art thou?" at length demanded the king,
somewhat sternly ; " by what right bearest thou a name and
cognizance we know are not thine own? Speak, and truly, as
thou hopest for life, or, by our crown, thou shalt rue thy false-
hood."
"My name is Alan, and a father's justice made me Alan of
Buchan," replied the young man, more firmly and boldly than
was expected. " It was enough for me to do as he bade me,
without inquiring wherefore. The king and peers of England
received me as my father's son, a mother's dying lips had given
me that father's name ; he claimed and treated me in all things
as his son : my duty then was to obey him."
"So far thou hast spoken well,' replied the Bruce, lest
sternly ; " but was it thy duty, by falsehood, to cast foul shame
upon a noble name, mid poison Scottish cars by the black tale
that Alan of Buchan repented of his former oaths of fealty to
ourself, and would atone for them by fidelity to Edward, aud
by ceaseless vengeance on the Bruce ?"
"My lips were guiltless of such falsehood, gracious sove-
reign," and a deep blush stained the young man's cheek.
" True, I asserted what my father bade me ; but such as this I
never breathed. Perchance 'twas equal guilt by silence to
affirm that which he so frequently proclaimed ; but the favor
of my sovereign, the intoxicating pleasures of a court, drowned
the voice of conscience."
" And of him whom thou hast personated," said the king,
with earnestness, " knowest thou aught of him ? an thou tellest
us Sir Alan lives, that we may find or rescue him, instant free-
dom shall be thy reward."
"Alas! I fear, my liege, it was bis death which opened his
father's heart to me. I have thought, by the dark, horrible
accents of remorse breathed in slumber by the Earl of Buchnn,
that death came not naturally, and I have shuddered when I
knew that I was occupying the place of one fearfully and se-
cretly removed. I believed my father dead, when, three months
since, a packet was brought to me by one who had received it
direct from the earl in Norway, sealed by his own signet and
signed by his own hand. It bade me seek the King of Scot-
land, and place in his bands a paper inclosed. Preparations
were then making for the relief of Stirling ; I could not quit
King Edward's side without dishonor, and therefore determined
on surrendering myself prisoner, if I could not otherwise obtain
the audience I desired : and now that my task is done," be
knelt and presented a sealed packet, which he had drawn from
his vest, " your grace may do with me what you list."
" Ha ! is it so ?" exclaimed the Bruce, hastily breaking the
large seal and thick silk with which the packet was secured,
disregarding every entreaty of his followers to beware lest the
scrawl were poisoned. "There is truth in every word the
youth speaks. Buchan, treacherous as he is, would not make
him so base a tool No ! his better nature is fairly roused.
Ha ! what is this ?" he glanced his eye rapidly down the page,
then read aloud "To Robert the Bruce, erewhiles Earl of
Carrick and Baron of Annandale, now king of the whole Scot-
THE DATS OF BBtCB. 183
tish realm, these : Whereas I have hitherto declared and pro-
claimed Alan of Buchan, son of the Countess Isabella, a rebel
and a traitor to Scotland, and true and faithful liegeman to
King Edward; one under a solemn pledge to carry on his
father's tow of extermination against the Bruce. I hereby do
utterly and solemnly deny the same, declaring, by the sacred
name of Qod and the whole army of saints and martyrs, that I
have done him foul wrong, and that he who bears the name of
Alan of Buchan is not the child of Isabella of Fife, but one
born in unlawful wedlock, and but brought from obscurity to
assist a foul and wicked scheme of vengeance against both Isa-
bella and her child. I here, from a bed in all human seeming
of death, do acknowledge sincere repentance of the same, and
publicly avow I have foully injured both my wife and son ;
holding the one pure and spotless, alike in thought and deed,
and for the other, Robert the Bruce, if ever he seek thee, let
not the aspersions cast upon his name come between him and
thy favor; he is as true to thee and Scotland as his father has
been rebellious against both. Signed, John Comyn of Buchan,
at the Monastery of St. Bernard, in the Vale of Christian,
Norway;" and further attested by the abbot and other superi-
ors of the convent, whose names were written in full.
" What think you of this, my lords V exclaimed the Bruce
joyously, as exultingly he threw the packet in the midst of
them. "Alan, my noble Alan, the day that gives thee and
thy mother back to Robert's court will be a joy to Scotland,
and shall give thee liberty," he continued, addressing the
prisoner.
"But Sir Alan where is Sir Alan ?" repeated many eager
voices ; " the scrawl speaks of him as in life, but says not
where. An he be still in prison, methinks Buchan 's recantation
is somewhat unsatisfactory ; the wily traitor knows he is safe
in making this avowal : his son cannot seek your grace's
favor."
" Think you so, my good lords ?" and there was a peculiarly
arch expression in the Bruce's smile. " Well, well ; time may
unravel this even as so many other marvellous events. Who
would have dreamed ten years ago, the hunted, persecuted
exile, without a bed whereon to rest his weary limbs, a roof to
guard him from the pitiless storm, should ride triumphant o'er
a field like this, compel e'en England's king to fly, her bravest
184 THE DATS OF BRUCE.
nobles lying at his feet 1 think of these things, and marvel at
naught which may befall. Ha ! a bora my Douglas. Quick,
quick ! bring him hither ; let tbe prisoner be removed to all
honorable keeping."
The entrance of tbe Douglas prevented further notice of
Buchan's important missive just at that time. The king re-
ceived him with unfeigned delight, rejoicing yet more in the
brilliant success which gave him a ret nearer title to his affec-
tion than even the extraordinary skill and courage he had dis-
Elayed. The young nobleman gave an animated account of
is pursuit of tbe king, who several limes had escaped capture
almost by a miracle; he had followed him as far as Dunbar, -
whose governor, the Earl of March, had given bim refuge.
*' Tis well ; we have gained glory enough, my Douglas,"
was tbe king's reply. " We fought alone for peace and free-
dom ; and these obtained, we shall not rest the harder for
Edward's liberty. But the young Earl of Gloucester, bast
thou seen him ? bis fate we cannot learn ; heaven grant it be
life and freedom !"
Various suggestions answered this observation, but already
we have lingered too long in the royal pavilion, and must has-
ten to other actors in our drama, whose fate depends upon its
close.
CHAPTER X.
The day following tbe battle dawned on a busy and varied
scene ; the soldiers were busy in clearing the field of the dead,
in the melancholy task of military burial, rendered perhaps less
Siainful in its details by the grateful perception how few had
alien on their side, compared to their foes. The search for
the young Earl of Gloucester was at length successful, and
with bitter sorrow King Robert desired the body to be con-
veyed in all honor to the convent of St. Ninian, there to lie in
state till his funeral could be conducted with the ceremonies
due to his rank and that vivid remembrance of his noble father
which the Bruce still so fondly entertained ; messengers were
also dispatched to the convent of St. Mary, headed by the
THE DAYS OF 8BUCE. 185
Earl of Lennox, to whose tender sympathy the king intrusted
the painful task of informing the Princess Joan of the fate of
her son, and implore her to return with him to superintend the
last melancholy duties to the noble dead. The convent of St.
Nraian offered her a safe and honorable retreat till this was
done, and then she was at perfect liberty to return to England,
or remain in Scotland, as the Brace's most loved and honored
friend. This duty of chivalry accomplished, the king was at
liberty to receive the surrender of the castle of Stilling from
the hands of Sir Philip de Mowbray, who, unarmed and bare-
headed, bearing the keys in his hand, and followed by his
principal knights and officers, was marshalled into the king's
pavilion, and in the presence of all Scotland's nobles and their
knightly prisoners, on his knee, laid the keys at the Brace's
feet, surrendered himself and all the English within the castle
lawful prisoners, and acknowledged him at once conqueror and
Scotland's legal sovereign.
" Sir Amiot of the Branch, we commit these precious keys to
thy charge, and hail thee seneschal of Stirling, and liberator of
its prisoners, an honor fairly and nobly won, alike by thy fore-
sight and valor made thine own," was the king's frank address,
as be placed the keys with his own royal hand into that of his
young follower, who, clothed with more than usual richness,
though he still wore his mask, was standing by his side, seem-
ingly so calm and full of thought as usual, that Edward Bruce
had tormented him with raillery on his insensibility, declaring
he did not deserve to receive his prize. " Earnestly, we trust,
the long continued, " that this reward may give thee yet some-
thing more than honor, and thou mayest find amid those pris-
oners thy prudent words made ours, that one on whom so
much depends. A brief hour hence we take possession, and
trust to find an unmasked seneschal will give us welcome." Sir
Amiot bent his lips to his sovereign's outstretched hand, and
fixed his large dark eyes upon him in eloquent reply. " Young
knights who so gallantly struggled for this reward, and whose
failure gives ye no shadow of shame, attend Sir Amiot ; we
wait but to see the banner of Scotland float from the tower,
and will instantly march onward,"
A joyful shout burst from the youthful knights as on they
went, the broad standard of Scotland in the midst of them, and
pennons and penconelles glittering from the spearheads in va-
Googlc
18b THE DAYS OF BBUCE.
tied array, the torn and sallied banner of St. Edward waved
exultingly by Fitz-Alan. On they went, the silver clarion and
deeper trumpet pouring forth glad sounds of triumph. The
drawbridge was thrown down, portcullis up and oaken doors
flung back, and Stirling was in very truth their own. Scot-
tish prisoners of every rank and every grade were assembled in
the courts, and pressed round them, many of them with sobs
and tears calling them their liberators, their friends, and be-
seeching blessings on the Brace's head. The warriors flung
themselves from their horses, recognizing many as long-lost
companions in arms, friends they bad deemed were slain. Sir
Amiot alone stood aloof, unknowing and unknown ; he could
not bear to abridge that scene, and ere a free passage was ob-
tained to permit his ascent to the banner turret, the time for
the king's arrival was rapidly approaching. A ringing shout
from every man below, caught up and repeated by every sol-
dier on the plain of Bannock, and echoed and re-echoed again
and yet again, proclaimed the raising of the standard, the -
standard of Scotland's freedom, the sovereignty of Bruce.
Gallantly stood forth Sir Amiot 'a stately form, as uprooting
the flag of England, he held it aloft one moment in the sight
of all, then flung it from the tower to the court below, while
the flourish of a hundred trumpets swelled forth his triumph.
A troop of magnificently- attired knights, on splendid chargers,
were instantly visible, leaving the field in frotit of the castle,
and Sir Amiot hastened from the turret in search of the pris-
oners of rank, none of whom had as yet been visible. He
knew not of the name or rank of any save of one, and now that
the vow of years was fulfilled, the goal obtained, bis heart
shrunk forebodingly within itself, as if it were impossible,
wholly impossible he should indeed gaze upon that face and
list that voice again. How might he prepare her for that meet-
ing would she know him believe his identity ? oh, the ago-
nizing doubts and fears of that moment, which one effort of
volition might dispel, and yet for which he had no power.
Had the loss of blood of the preceding day so utterly pros-
trated him, to make him tremble thus 1 where was hts man-
hood ? He straggled with himself ; he paced the gallery to
conquer emotion ere he entered that hall of audience where the
prisoners waited their liberators ; at that moment Walter Fiti-
Alau bounded towards him, full of excitement.
i Google
TDK DAYS OF BEL'CK. 187
" Amiot, Amiot, there is the loveliest vision in this castle I
ever set eyes upon, thou hast never seen the like. Se came
upon me like a spirit, so full of grace and life, and with a face
the sun has never looked on such another ! Who is she
what is she ? an she be thy unknown love, Amiot, I will go
hang myself in despair."
" No need of that, my fiery Walter ; why thou art all hut de-
ranged already. What is there so marvellous in a beautiful
face ? I seek not her ; but tell me, tell me, Walter, an thou
loves t me, the the Countess of Buchan hast seen her ? Is
she here is she well ?" he laid his trembling hand on the
young man's arm, and spoke in such a tone of emotion, Fitz-
Alan was for the moment completely sobered, even to the ex-
clusion of surprise.
" The Countess of Buchan is she the object of thy vow ?
who could have believed it ? I have seen her ; Bhe is well,
noble, glorious as eight years ago, save nay, but Amiot, good
friend, bear up, see her thyself, and set all doubts at rest.
Thou surely art more badly wounded than we dreamed of."
" No, no, I am weakened in mind not body, Walter ; it was
not thus I thought to meet her. Come, we will go together."
He put his arm within Fitz- Alan's, and, struggling for calm-
ness, entered the audience hall. There were three or four
female figures at the further end, and one of them instantly
came forward.
" Another of our gallant deliverers ! he is indeed most wel-
come," was her greeting, in tones that brought Sir Amiot in-
stantly on his knee, and he doffed his cap and bowed his head,
without once looking on her face, for he felt if he had he must
have given way. " Methinks, young sir, in the convent of
Our Lady of Mount Carmel we met before ; thy valor rescued
us from outrage."
" And truly, lady, by him is gained thy present freedom,"
interposed Walter Fits-Alan, eagerly ; "for his foresight made
the ransomless liberation of the prisoners one of the conditions
of Sir Philip de Mowbray's journey to London in behalf of
Stirling. King Robert hails him seneschal of Stirling, deliverer
of its prisoners ; I pray thee look upon him thus."
" And who is this valiant knight hath he no name ? I pray
thee, gallant sir, say unto whom Isabella of Buchan is indebted
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188 THE DAYS OF BECOB.
for this blessed day ; who gives her back to Scotland and to
freedom ?"
" One who five years hath sought it," lady, replied the
young knight, raising bis head, and gazing on her expressive
face, while his voice strangefully and painfully quivered; "one,
whose duty it had been to do so, had there been no deep love,
no glory in the deed. Lady is there none, tbinkest thou, to
whom thy liberty, thy joy, could be the first grand object of a
life none to whom for thy freedom e'en death were welcome ?
Oh, speak,"
" There was but one," replied the countess, fearfully agitated ;
" but one whose love for Isabella could lead him on to this
but one, and he oh, wherefore shouldst thou speak this ? I
" Might it not be that the tale they told was false ; that
Alan lives, though nameless hidden even from his friends, till
his mother's worth might be reflected upon him, and vouch his
truth, Ob, do not sink now; mother, my noble mother, live,
live, to look upon, to bless thy child !"
Paler and paler, till her very lips became white as marble,
the countenance of the countess had become, while her band
convulsively grasped his shoulder, and her whole frame shook
as an aspen ; the knight bad dashed his mask and plumed cap
aside, had flung his arms convulsively around her knees, and
with one long look of irrepressible love upon her face, had
buried his bead in the folds of her robe, and that long pent-up
emotion broke forth in choking sobs.
"Alan, Alan! have I a son did he say Alan lives? God
of mercy, let this be no dream ! Look up, look up once again
'twas thus I saw him last : ob, what have been these long years
of misery ? My child, my child, sbeak, tell me I am not mad !
No, no, that face, that glorious face thou art mine own ! Oh,
God of mercy, thou bast given me back my child I"
She had lifted his head as she spoke, she had put back the
long clustering hair, gazing on those beautiful features, with a
look of such fearful wildness, such intense inquiry, Fitz-Alan
trembled for her reason. Her voice had become more and more
the accent of delirium, until, as with an almost prostrating
effort, she conquered it, and seemed compelling herself to calm-
ness; and then, as Alan, in answer to her agonized appeal,
" Speak, tell mo I am not mad," repeated that single word
THE DATS OF BRUCE. 189
"Mother," checking his own emotion to support her, the
tightly- drawn brain gave way, and with a burst of passionate
tears she Bunk upon his bosom, folding her arms around him,
murmuring his name, conscious only she gazed upon her son.
Time passed, how much neither of those long-separated ones
might know. There had been a trumpet sounded without, a
burst of shouting triumph, of loyal acclaim, a tramp of many
feet, alike in the courtyards and the castle ball. They had
been left comparatively alone, for Fitz-Alan had obeyed that
trumpet sound, and the other inmates of the chamber had kept
far aloof, feeling the emotions of that mother and son were tar
too sacred to be looked upon ; but they knew knothing of all
these things ; they felt nothing but that they were clasped to
each other's hearts, that tears were mingling ; that there was
such deep joy dawning for Isabella, her brain might scarce bear
the change ; quivering and trembling beneath it, as the eye,
long accustomed to the darkness, shrinks back almost in pain
from the dazzling flash of light by which It is dispelled. Alan
felt not this ; he only knew he could lay his aching head upon
her breast, and feel that there was on earth one who loved him,
one that he might love, whose tenderness might quench the
burning agony that raged within. A welt-known voice aroused
' them, a kindly arm unclasped the trembling yet convulsive bold
of Alan from his mother's drooping form, and gently bade her
wake to joy and freedom.
" No, no, we will not homage, lady ; though hast enough to
feel, to see. The Bruce needs not the knee of Isabella to pro-
claim him sovereign," exclaimed Robert, kindly ; and startled
into consciousness by his voice, both the countess and her son
found themselves surrounded by the sovereign and his knights;
the former would have knelt, but was effectually prevented.
" We would rather beseech thee to forget all concerning us,
save that we are a faithful friend, to whom the thought of the
misery thy loyalty to us hath called down on thee, nath ever
been a thought of pain, which we would long ere this have
banished, had heaven permitted us by the sword's point to gab
thy freedom. We dreamed not till this morning this blessing
awaited us, that midst the prisoners of Stilling was the Count-
ess of Buchan, or perchance we bad scarce waited so patiently
for Edward's coming."
"There is dearer blessing in store for thee, my gracious
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190 THE DAYS OF BEUCE.
liege," returned the countess, restored by a strong effort to her
usual self-possession, and even at that moment forgetting all
personal feeling to pour into the Brace's heart a portion of her
own deep joy. " Look yonder, my sovereign, seest tbou not
one whose freedom and whose presence are dearer, more pre-
cious yet V
The crowd had unconsciously divided to permit the entrance
amongst them of that same lovely girl whose beauty had so
bewildered Fitz-Alan, and who now stood amongst those war-
rior forms, three or four yards from the king, gazing upon him
with an expression of such reverence, admiration, love, that
every eye turned for the moment from Alan of Buchan to rest
on her. - The Bruce looked towards her, started, stood doubt-
ful, but, ere the doubt was solved, the fair girl had bound-
ed forward, murmuring, "Father, hast forgotten thy little
Marjory?" and the sovereign had folded his daughter to his
With arms folded on his bosom, a countenance deadly pale,
a mien yet more loftily erect, Alan of Buchan stood by his
mother's side, almost concealed by drooping tapestry, as his
fellow -knights and nobles thronged round the countess to pay
her the respectful homage her sufferings in the Brace's cause
so well deserved. He could not come forward; even at that *
moment the remembrance of the detestation in which his whole
line was so naturally regarded by the faithful followers of the
Bruce was on his heart, bowing it to the dust ; he had fought,
had bled for his king, had saved his life, but what mattered
these things ? he was a Comyn still, and not till the sovereign's
own voice was heard in eager inquiry, " Alan, where is my
noble Alan why does he shun me V had he courage to bound
forward, and prostrate himself at Robert's feet
" Here at thy feet, my liege. Oh, take not the love thou
didst vouchsafe to the nameless Amiot from him who bears a
traitor's name. Let me but feel I have still a claim upon my
sovereign's love, that the years of faithful service, as an un-
known, nameless adventurer, have not been all in vain. The
dark mystery around me is solved ; for my mother's sake, ac-
cept my homage still."
" Nay, ask that of the prejudiced, tyrannical fool of England,
not of the noble Robert, who ever loved thee, Alan, e'en when
the whole world believed thee traitor," exclaimed the impetuous
THE DAYS OF BBtJCE. 191
Edward, rushing to the kneeling knight ere the king could re-
ply, raising and embracing him. " I have done thee foul wrong,
wounded thy too sensitive heart again and again ; but who
could suppose the solitary Amiot, sans nam, sans parens, con-
cealed a being once so lamented, and then so misdoubted, as
Alan of Buchan ? Who could dream it was a mother's free-
dom thou didst so nobly, so devotedly seek ? though, by my
faith, now the mystery's solved, we were all sorry fools, I take
it, not to solve it before. Well, well, the past is the past, and
all that Edward Bruce may do is to acknowledge and deplore
his injury, and crave thy pardon."
" And I, and I, and I," repeated several voices ; and one by
one the nobles of Scotland pressed eagerly forward to clasp the
young knight's hand, to beseech his friendship, to assure him
name, ancestry, all were forgotten, all, save that he was the
son of Isabella, the noble patriot, the gallant knight, the de-
voted follower of the Bruce.
Affected beyond all power of speech, there was such a vary-
ing of color on Alan's cheek, that Doth the Bruce and his mother
felt alarmed, suspecting the immense exertions of the previous
day, or some secret cause, had undermined that health more
than was outwardly visible.
"And what may thy sovereign add, my Alan?" he said,
when the noisy congratulations of Sir Alan's younger com-
panions permitted him to speak ; " what, save that we will find
some nobler name for thee than that thou bearest now ; a name
unstained as thine Own honor, thy noble mother's fame. Thy
mystery was solved yestere'en to us," he added, with a smile,
" though the wits of our good brother and gallant knights were
somewhat more obtuse, fhou lookest wondrous puzzled, gentle
sir, and perchance will be yet more so. See here, a father's
hand hath done thee justice, tardy though it be."
Alan glanced over the paper the king presented. His cheek
flushed, his eye glistened ; he saw nothing regarding himself,
only one sentence printed itself on his heart, and flinging his
arms around his mother, he murmured forth, " Mother, my own
mother ! even by him thy worth acknowledged, thy spotless
name proclaimed. Oh, were this blessed moment my last, thine
Alan hath not lived in Tain."
We may not linger further on this scene, important though
it he. Much there was to be explained, much which not alone
192 THE DATS OF BRUCE.
the Countess Isabella yearned to hear, but for which the king
and his nobles all loudly called; how he 'had escaped from
imprisonment, death, the origin of his tow, why he had kept
it so rigidly, and numerous other questions relative to Alan,
were asked and answered; and then there was much for
Robert to hear from his own sweet girl, from whose beloved
form his arm had never moved, even when addressing and
listening to Alan, and on whose lovely, innocent face his eye
ever turned and turned again, as the eye of the weary and
the thirsty traveller of the desert is fascinated to the distant
fount, however other objects may pleasantly intervene and
seek to turn it thence. He had to learn, and gladly she told
him, that Lady Mowbray, under whose charge she and her
mother had been some time in England, had so dearly
loved her company, that on Sir Philip's sending for her to Stir-
ling, where he was governor, she had prevailed on the king to
permit the princess accompanying her, and the queen, after a
severe struggle, had consented to part with her child, to de-
prive her tedious imprisonment of its only comfort, hoping that
some fortunate chance might restore her Marjory to the king,
her father, sooner than could be if she remained in England.
" My noble, unselfish Margaret, and thy tender wish is ful-
filled, responded the king, straining the princess again and
again to his bosom ; " and thou shall speedily rejoin us. Not
alone a kingdom have I regained, but treasures dearer yet my
wife and child."
. While these momentous events were taking place in Stirling
Castle, the convent of St. Ninian had been the scene of feel-
ings perhaps equally intense. Escorted by the Earl of Lennox
and James of Douglas rwhose ardent longings for an inter-
view with his well and honorably-won Isoline had been pain-
fully damped, by the assurance of the abbess that she was
really too much indisposed to see him so early in the morning,
as he had entreated the Princess Joan, Countess of Glou-
cester, had arrived, and been received with all the deference
her rank demanded, all the true heartfelt sympathy her loss
had claimed. A brief while she had passed alone beside
the body of her child ; her agonised forebodings ali were
realized, and that she had foreboded this could not assuage its
pang. The first anguish of that mother's heart no eye had
witnessed, and when she left that room of death, the touching
THE DAY8 OP BRUCE. 193
dignity of silent, lasting grief alone was visible. She sate
with the abbess, sometimes silent, sometimes speaking of the
lost, when lightly and suddenly, as usual, Agnes stood before
"They have won, they have won!" she said, putting her
arms caressingly about the abbess's neck. " Said I not Scot-
land would be free -Robert should be glorious ? Oh, he will
need Agnes and her own faithful lover no more, and so he bath
gone up, up, where I may not see him ; but 1 know I shall go
to him soon, he bath whispered it in his own sweet voice. Ha 1
who is that?" she interrupted herself, and her eye fixed itself
on the face of the Princess Joan with such intensity, the orb
seemed almost glazed. She passed her hand over her brow,
as if there was a pressure of pain, and every feature gradually
contracted, as if under some powerful effort of mind. "Who
is that? I should know the face if I had memory. Why does
it conjure up such horrible fancies, that strange awful dream,
which sometimes is so clear I believe it must be reality ? yet
how can it be, when he was never on earth? They never
could do to him the horrible things I saw. Lady, sweet lady,
in mercy tell me who thou art !"
"Alas! poor sufferer, I fear me thou hast all too vivid a
remembrance," replied the princess, at once recollecting Agnes,
and divining her affliction and its cause. " Do not look upon
me thus, my child ; ask not a name that must bring with it but
memories of sorrow. Look on me only as a friend who loved
thee, dearest."
" Loved me ! Where didst thou know me ? Memories I
have no memory. But tell me, ob, tell me, who thou art.
The cloud is gathering darker ; Nigel, Nigel, let it not descend.
Who art thou?"
Terrified at the increasing wildness of look and tone, though
trembling at the effect the sound of her name might produce,
the princess tenderly replied
" My name is Joan, sweet girl, the Dame of Gloucester."
" Gloucester, the Dame of Gloucester ! what hath that
name to do with me? Why should it bring such agony?
What are these forms that throng upon me? they press, they
hem me round. Oh, give me way, let me go to him it is my
husband 1" and with a wild shriek of horror, the unhappy girl
dropped senseless on the ground.
VOL. II.-9
194 THE DATS OP BBDOE.
It was long ere they could restore her to life, to c
ness of outward things ; and longer still ere she had strength to
raise herself from the couch where they had laid her, to raise
her hand to her aching brow, to stand erect ; but the placid
smile of infancy returned, and she was calm, gentle, caressing
as her wont, without one trace of the fearful paroxysm that had
thus prostrated her, save the fast decay of frame.
The Lady Isoline sate alone within her chamber, her elbow
rested on a table near, one hand supporting her head, while
the other hung by her side, her whole position presenting in its
repose that utter abandonment of expression which we some-
times see in a marble statue, and which, without the aid of
either sound or coloring, fills the heart and eye with silent
sympathizing tears.
The Lord of Douglas had just left her, so full of his own
happiness, his own deep love, that he could not be conscious
of alloy. He knew, had long known his love was not returned
with the warmth he gave, and therefore that his rapturous ex-
pressions of affection, gratitude, devotion met with out gentle,
quiet, dignified replies had no power to quench that joy ; he
looked to a life to gain him the love he longed for, to deeds of
such unobtrudtng worship, which his knowledge of her charac-
ter inspired, at length to obtain him somewhat more than
esteem, and till then his own love, the consciousness she was
his own, was all-sufficient for the completion of individual joy.
Not a dream, a thought that her heart was preoccupied had
ever entered his soul ; and, despite all her resolutions, all her
wishes, she could not in that interview tell him, She thought
to have seen the supposed Sir Amiot ere she and Douglas met,
to have that strange mystery all dissolved, his name and rank
acknowledged, and in them to find some sufficient cause for
this avowal ; for still, aye, though hour after hour passed and
he came not, made no effort to seek her, still she trusted, would
not bebeve him false, though eye and ear and memory and
reason's self, all rose up to crush that trust, to tell her loudly
she clasped a shadow. How passed that dreaded interview
with Douglas, what she had said she scarcely knew, save that
she had made no profession of love, had given him no word to
lead him to believe she felt for him more than she had ever said,
and there was some faint comfort in that thought. But now
^Google
IBS DAYS OP BBOCB. 195
that he had left her, the utter prostration of mental strength
was again upon her, bowing her heart with a load of suffering
as impossible to be defined as to be conquered. What did she
seek f what good to see Sir Amiot again, to hear his lips solve
the mystery around him ? how would that avail her and give
her back to joy ? She might have asked herself these questions
and many more, but answers came there none ; and it was
something peculiarly touching to see that high-born maiden,
whose heart had ever seemed too proud and yet too light, too
full of effervescence to retain the shade of sorrow, drooping
thus ; her very attitude denoting utter, utter hopelessness. How
long she remained in this position, how long it was since Doug-
las had left her, she was wholly unconscious, as also that an at-
tendant had entered, asked some question, and been answered
by an assenting sign. A deep sigh aroused her, a sigh so re-
sponsive to her own thought at the moment it sounded, that it
fairly startled her into hastily raising her eyes, and looking in-
quiringly around her. About a yard from the door of her
apartment, over which the tapestry had again closely fallen, as
if either bodily or mental powers had failed to the utter pre-
vention of his further advance, stood a tall, martial figure,
whose rich and graceful attire could not conceal that the limbs
were painfully enfeebled ; his head was uncovered, his fair
face, pale as death, but beautiful even in its suffering, fully ex-
posed to view ; his raven hair pushed from his marble brow, and
falling in long curls on either side, rendering perhaps that ashy
paleness more painfully striking. Isoline cast one doubting
glance; could she be mistaken in that form, those eyes?
though the face was more beautiful than her wildest dreams
had pictured. But if it were him, why did he not approach
her why stand thus, distant, reserved, as had been so long his
wont ? Forgetting her situation, her engagement, her dignity,
every thing but that him she loved was before her, Isoline
sprung towards him.
" Amiot, Amiot, thou art come at length !" she wildly cried.
" Oh, why not before?"
" Not before 1 Couldst thou think of me, wish for me, now
now, when thou must deem me perjured, false ? Lady,
sweet lady, oh, do not speak to me thus gently ; better harsh-
ly, better proudly for oh, have I not lost thee ?" he sunk on
3jl.zo::y GoOgle
196 THE DATS OF BEUCE.
bis knee before her, clasping her robe with both hands, and
raising to hers his speaking eyes.
" And yet I trust thee yet I know thou art not, hast not
played me false ! Amiot, I had not loved thee could my mind
thus waver, sentence thee without a hearing ; but I forget what
I am, forget that thou, thou hast struggled for me, and in
rain." Her voice grew more and more faltering, and, mocking
every effort at control, she sunk on the nearest seat, and burst
into a passion of tears.
Sir Alan sprung to her side, almost as much agitated as
herself; he threw his arm around her, but so respectfully,
Douglas himself had scarce condemned the action. He spoke
to her gently, soothingly, recalled to his own noble self by the
suffering of one beloved.
" In very truth this is sad, foolish weakness, Amiot ; I know
not myself; but it is passed now, and I am Isoline again. Sit
thee 1 beside me, and tell me all thou hast come here to tell ;
first, who art thou ? 'lis strange my woman curiosity hath
not asked this before, but truly I have either dreamed of such
a face or seen it once before." So she spoke, even while her
whole frame trembled with the violence of emotion, while a
sensation of sickly faintness was upon her, while the large tears
stood on the silken lashes, giving new softened beauty to her
features, despite the quivering smile upon her lips.
"Thou hast seen it, Isoline. Perchance, if I tell thee to
whose weal, whose liberty, my life was rowed, thou wilt scarce
give my lips the painful task to speak a name which must be
hateful to a daughter of the Bruce. Men said it was to a
bride or a betrothed my life was pledged. I heard them at
first unheedingly, carelessly, my only desire being to conceal
effectually my name, which, were the truth known, would un-
doubtedly be discovered ; but when I saw thee, when other
feelings took possession of my soul, I longed to contradict the
rumor, to tell the whole world my heart was free as was my
band ; but I dared not, lest I should betray more. Isoline, it
was a mother's liberty I sought."
" And that mother is Isabella of Bucban, and thou art Alan.
Oh, fool, fool that I was, not to divine this from the first!" ex-
claimed Isoline, in a tone of such bitter self-reproach it almost
lost Sir Alan his partially regained control ; " thrice-blinded fool,
when I pondered again and yet again on thy devotedness to
THE DAVB OF BHTJCE. Itf?
our poor afflicted Agnes, striving to reconcile it with t t tale
they breathed of thy betrothment to another ; where was my
boasted penetration ? Oh, had I dreamed of this, how changed
had been our fates !"
" Wouldst thou, couldst thou still have loved me, Isoline ?
A Comyn son of a rebellious, hated, contemned race ; one
stained with attempted regicide, with treachery and crime."
" What signified thy race, when him I loved was in himself
a host of truth, of honor, loyalty, valor all that chivalry claims
and woman loves," answered Isoline, impetuously. "Alan,
Alan, how little knowest thou a woman's heart, to dream a
name could arm it 'gainst a life ! No, no, 'twas the foul tale
they told, that Alan of Buchan was sworn to England, that
blunted every faculty and blinded me to facts now so pal-
pable !"
" And thou didst believe that tale ?" inquired Alan, mourn-
fully.
" It was not till there were those who told me they had seen
thee, Alan, and then I did not hold thee false, but held per-
force to act the part they told ; and not always I believed this,
but rather that the first tale I heard was true, and, to hide his
unnatural crime, Buchan had substituted some other in thy
stead."
" And thy penetration there told thee truth. It was to
conceal a supposed crime my unhappy father promulgated a
falsehood he has now utterly repented and atoned. Listen
to me, Isoline : my tale is a long one, and now, alas ! may
avail me nothing : yet thou shalt hear all, though I did not
think to tell it thus." He paused, in evident emotion, bnt con-
quering it with an effort, continued, " Thou knowest all the
particulars of my beloved mother's capture, that she was con-
veyed to Edinburgh, under the horrible impression that her
patriotism, her devotedness to Scotland and the Bruce, had
caused the execution of her only son by a Father's hand. I
too was told this, and the horror of the agony this intelligence
would occasion her almost caused me to waver for a brief in-
terval, and betray the wanderings of my king, trusting that,
even were this known to his foes, it could avail them little, as
the three, nay, the four days which had intervened would have
taken him out of reach of all pursuit. But this indecision did
not last long ; better my mother should believe her Alan dead
198 THE DATS OF BEOCE.
than dishonored, the one were a less pang than the other, and
I wavered no more. How the deceit of my death, even, I
believe, to the discovery of my dead body, was carried on I am
ignorant ; but a young man of my age and size, one of my
father's personal followers, had fallen in a previous strife, and
as they stripped me of my clothes, to robe me as a felon, I
imagine his body was wrapped in them, and thus heightened
the deception ; that, however, is of little moment now. I was
dragged blindfolded I knew not where, save that we traversed
many miles of rugged land and crossed the waves, and when
my fetters were loosed and sight restored, I found myself in a
rude fort, on a solitary rock, with the broad ocean rolling and
tumbling around me on all sides, save the south, where the
bleak, bare, rugged shores of Caithness mingle with the clouds.
I was but a boy ; but, oh, Isotine, not the fuller, more perfected
consciousness of manhood could have felt more keenly, more
bitterly the horrors of this captivity, worse a thousand times
than death. Separated as by death from all I loved, cut off
from every dream of hope, of young ambition, burning with
desire to strive for my country and my king, to signalise myself
as my mother's son, and wash away, through my exertions, the
atain upon my race every hope was gone. I was surrounded
by rude, almost savage forms, whose very language I could
scarcely understand, and whose visages were hard as the rock
they peopled, and whose hearts no more sensible to the agony
I endured the wild, vain yearnings for freedom than the
boundless ocean roaring round. Once they chained me, with
mocking gibes, to the flag-staff on the tower for three days and
nights, in punishment for an attempt to fling myself into the
waves, and kept me fettered and doubly watched from that
time forward ; and temptation was not wanted to add its suf-
fering, Isoline. Again, and again there came offers of freedom,
honor, wealth, if .1 would but take a solemn oath to forswear
all allegiance to the Bruce, to join my father in his oath of
vengeance upon him, and in his fealty to England a promise
of perfect liberty of action in all save this, nay, even commu-
nication with my mother. Twice did my father himself seek
me to make these offers, to threaten severer, more horrible im-
prisonment, were I still obstinate ; and many more times did
these fearful temptations come through others, with all the in-
sinuation of eloquent oratory, persuasive gentleness. I scarce
THE DAYS OF BRUCE. 199
know how I resisted ; but I did, God in heaven be praised, I
did ! Even then, then my mother's image did not desert me ;
she came upon me in those moments of horror, of trial, more
terrible than words may speak ; her voice breathed in my ear,
strengthening me in my hours of darkness, and I resisted.
They could not make me false 1"
"Alan, Alan, in mercy cease! were we other than we are,
were that brief vision of bliss realized, and I might love thee,
oh, I could bear this, glory in tby truth ; but now, now, that
my soul must root thine image thence, that I must forget
forget God In heaven, tell me not these things, I cannot, can-
not bear them I" and the high-minded girl buried her face in
her hands, vainly struggling to subdue an emotion that shook
her whole frame with sobs.
" Isoline, dearest, noblest ! I have done, I will not linger on
these things ; percbanco 'twere better to have left them in their
darkness. But to whom should they be divulged, if not to
thee, who, despite of mystery, of appearances so against me
thy very eyes must have condemned me could still trust, still
believe I would clear up all ? And deem not this a stolen in-
terview, 'tis with tbe king's consent I am here, with his per-
mission that I speak."
" How ?" interrupted Isoline, hastily.
" Yes, Isoline, but now I left him, pouring into his kindly
ear enough for him to wring my hand and wish that Douglas
bad been other than my rival ; that things had chanced other
than they are ; to bid me seek thee this once, and tell thee all
which thy generous heart hath made thy due, and then then
to bid thee, as Isoline Campbell, farewell forever 'twas better
for us both."
*' Ha 1 said he so ? suspects he aught concerning me didst
say aught of me t" hurriedly inquired Isoline, removing her
bands from her face, on which a vivid flush had spread.
" What might I say ? boast that, though Douglas had thine
hand, I had thy noble heart; that thou hadst so honored me
beyond my deserts as to half own thy love say this, when
thou wert lost to me ? no, lady, no. He taxed me with my
sadness, that now a mother was restored, all of mystery solved,
how might I grieve ? and I told him wherefore, Isoline that
madly, wildly, I bad dared to love in secret love, though not
in secret woo; and had not a closer duty, though, alas! not
300 THE DAYS OF BBCCE.
dearer love, commanded a mother's freedom before all persona,
joy, I not alone had loved but I had won thee."
" And he, King Robert V
" Said much in my favor that it boots not to repeat ; seemed
on the point of asking a question for thy name was trembling
on his lips then checked himself, and wished the mystery
around me had been solved before, and granted my request to
see thee, and myself explain that mystery without a moment's
pause. Thou art glad he so far trusted me, sweet one ; pardon
me, lady, thine eye shineth brighter."
" Do not heed me do not seek yet to read my thoughts ;
and oh, Alan, call me Isokne Isoline still ; when the wife of
Douglas," she shuddered, "it will be time for that cold word
lady. Tell me of thyself," she continued, hurriedly, as fearing
she had said too much ; " how couldst thou escape from thy
dreary prison how elude their ever- watchful eyes f"
"I had been there now, perchance," he answered, " had not
a merciful Providence interposed to save me, through the per-
son of my foster-father, who in his deep love had sworn to dis-
cover my true fate, and rescue me if living. To do this he en-
tered the service of the earl, my father, who, from his long
absence and utter desertion of bis Scottish fiefs, had wholly
forgotten his person, a forgetfulness my faithful Comae was
very careful not to disturb. He became so useful to his mas-
ter, so adapted himself to his caprices, that gradually reserve
gave way, and, after a trial of his fidelity for eighteen weary
months, he intrusted him with the secret of my existence, his
desires that I should embrace the service of Edward, acknowl-
edging that there were strange feelings busy at his heart when-
ever he thought of me, which made b"t yeam for my submis-
sion, that he might love me; but despite of this, if I would
not take the oath he demanded, then I might die, he cared not.
Comae heard him attentively, and promised his best assistance.
Old and wary, Comae effectually concealed from my father his
overpowering delight at the intelligence of my existence ; but
when, after two years of fearful trial, he held me to his bosom,
the tears he shed were all-sufficient evidence of his previous
suffering and present joy. Still he had a weary task to per-
form ; made seneschal and governor of the islet tower, a stran-
ger to the habits of the rude inhabitants, he knew he must
proceed cautiously. As for me, the bare mention of freedom
THE DAYS OF BRUCE. 201
unshackled by conditions threw me into such a state of ex-
citement, that reduced, exhausted as I was, fever followed, and
brought me to the very brink of the grave. But this was
rather a matter of rejoicing than of sorrow to Cornac, for such
was what he wanted. He knew he had sufficient of the leech's
art to cure my bodily ailment, but he made no attempt to do
bo publicly, but reported I was dying of an incurable disease,
and gave all who chose free access to me, that they might see
there was no falsehood. But I need not linger on this ; suffice
it, that messengers one after another were dispatched to my
father, each with more alarming reports of my danger and ap-
proaching dissolution. This was a device of my faithful Cor-
nac, to have the sole charge of me to himself, and his plan
succeeded, for now my liberty and life were safe in his sole
keeping. At nightfall he conveyed me to the mainland, pro-
viding for my still weak state of health ; he tarried not an
hour, but hastened, as he said, to report my death himself ;
and so well did he succeed, that my father not only believed
the tale, but became gradually tortured with remorse that my
cruel captivity had caused my death, and that he in conse-
quence was my murderer. With health renewed, I joined the
armies of the King of Norway, but that was not struggling
for Scotland; my heart was filled with an intense yearning
again to fight under my sovereign's banner, and regain my
mother's freedom. At length, after a year spent abroad, Cor-
nac consented to my returning to Scotland, on condition that I
would solemnly swear not to divulge my name or identity until
I could do so in perfect safety, for he naturally feared the ven-
geance of my father, should the deceit which had been prac-
tised upon him be discovered. My only wish then was to
devote myself to my loved and injured mother ; I had already,
iu my vigil at arms, before receiving knighthood from my
sovereign's hand, taken a solemn oath to devote my whole life
to her happiness, to rescue her from danger or imprisonment,
and it was therefore without a moment's hesitation I pledged
myself to all, nay, more than he desired. I told him I would
conceal my features from every eye, divulge my name to none,
until my mother's liberty was gained, her name cleared from
the faintest breath of calumny. I thought not of the difficul-
ties that would attend the adherence to my vow ; the spirit of
chivalry was upon me, my heart burned to avenge my mother's
THE DATS OF BK1JCE.
wrongs, to bind itself irrevocably to her, and flinging myself
before an altar of the Virgin, I took the vow which this day
" On joining the Bruce, another and far more powerful in-
centive than my personal safety, urged me to strict conceal-
ment. I was a Comyn ; every week, every month, proved
more and more the detestation in which that line was held".
Would I, could I acknowledge myself one of a race vowed to
the destruction of the Bruce? no ; it was enough to feel I was
one, that I bore a name synonymous with every thing dishon-
orable, disloyal, murderous aye, murderous, for was not the
secret and open hand of the Comyn ever armed against the
Bruce? I had at first thought to proclaim whose liberty I
sought ; but speedily the conviction that in proclaiming this I
should undoubtedly excite suspicion concerning my own name
arrested me, and I felt myself compelled to darken yet further
the mystery around me. On my first arrival in Scotland, the
sensation of liberty, of treading my own land, of having the
free, unshackled power to ruse my sword for Scotland ana my
mother, occasioned emotions of exhilarating buoyancy, of bliss
unlike any thing I had ever experienced before. Thou lookest
inquiringly i oh, long before I looked on thee, that strange
buoyancy had fled. I was alone ; merciful heaven, what did
not that word comprise? The dishonor of my race pressed
upon me, crushing me to the dust, and then came the foul ru-
mor that Alan of Buchan was not dead, hut false. I, /, who
had endured such horrible agony to preserve my loyalty to my
king my very brain reeled- and men believed the foul tale ; I
had no jwwer to undeceive them, for my vow was registered in
heaven, my mother's freedom mocked my efforts, and darker
and darker grew my onward path. Fears, perchance ground-
less, unfounded, grew upon me. I had obtained that which I
had so yearned for, the confidence, the regard of my sovereign,
the friendship of Scotland's patriots, but they knew not I was
a Comyn ; if they had, would they not have spurned me, hated
me? I could not speak these fears, and so they obtained shape
and coloring, and hemmed me in with wretchedness ; and then
I beheld thee, and thy voice was ever kind, thy look full of that
voiceless sympathy my spirit longed for. Isoline, too soon I
saw the precipice on which I stood ; I loved thee, I, a poor ad-
venturer, a Comyn, yet I dared to love a daughter of the Bruce.
THE DAT8 OF BBtlCE.
I saw thee surrounded by the bravest, noblest, best what right
had I to mingle with them?"
"What right? the right of honor, valor, truth," interposed
Isoline, turning her full dark eyes upon him, and speaking with
dignity, though sadly. " Alan, acting as thou wert the part of
a patriot subject's son, in what could the world cast shame on
thee? thine own heart should have been thy safest judge, that
could but approve."
" Lady, it should ; but thy gentle heart dreams not of the
bitter agony of bearing a name condemned to detestation,
branded with hate and scorn. I loved thee, Isoline, yet I ask-
ed myself how dared I love how dared I permit a personal
feeling to come between me and my vow ? to think, to dream
of happiness when my mother still languished in captivity,
whence I had sworn to rescue her? I shunned thy loved pres-
ence ; I sought to harden my heart, to steel it 'gainst such soft-
ening throbs, but I could not, no, no, I could not ; if thou hadst
power over hearts where hope and joy alone had resting, what
was not thy power on one lonely, wretched as myself?" he
paused, almost convulsed with emotion, and Isoline could not
trust her voice in answer. After a brief silence, he continued,
more calmly,
" I looked upon my afflicted sister, and thy gentleness, thy
fondness, which bound her torn heart to thine, made me love
thee more. She was the only being with whom I might claim
affinity ; we were alone of our race. I sought to make her
know me, but the effort failed, and yet I loved her more than
ever ; and every deed of kindness, every look, every word of
love from thee to her increased thy power, till my neart con-
tained but thine image, beat but at thy voice. They told me
the Douglas was thy sovereign's choice, that he would be thy
husband, and how dared I come forward as his rival ? If there
did come a thrilling whisper that thy look was less proud, thy
voice less cold to me than him, I dared not listen to its voice,
for how might I seek thy favor without a name, with naught to
lay before thee but a heart which would have felt it bliss to die
for thee ? how breathe aught of homage, when men said I was
betrothed to her whose liberty I sought when I gathered
words from thee, betraying thou, too, nadst heard and didst
believe the tale, and held all words of homage and of love but
meaningless to thee, disloyal to another, nay, that my devotion
204 TEE DATS OF BRUCE.
to my unhappy sister had sunk me in thine esteem, as strangely
at variance with the suspected origin of my tow ? Isohne,
Isohne, thou didst not know, thou couldat not guess the an-
guish thy words occasioned the evening previous to my de-
manding news of my mother, before the gate of Berwick's
guarded citadel ; and oh, the intolerable agony of that crushed
hope ! it had sprung up, loaded with such sweet flowers, to be
withered ere their fragrance was diffused ; and again I strug4
gled to banish the love I bore thee as vain, wholly, utterly
vain. But why linger on this ? I heard thy lips proclaim that
superior valor might win thine hand, I heard thine avowal at
the same moment that thou hadst but regard, esteem, not love
to give, and my heart sprung up again. I might win thee still,
for the day that decided thy fate gave my mother liberty ;
burst, and forever, the shrouding folds of mystery thou know-
est the rest I left thee, every sense absorbed in the sweet
delicious dream that for me thou mightst feel more than cold
regard, that did I win thee, my name, my rank, should not
weigh against my claim ; and then I heard a second recom-
pense for valor had been published, one which would give me
the opportunity of literally fulfilling my vow ; for who might
dream the nameless adventurer, vowed already to a lady's ser-
vice, could dream of striving for thy hand ? I thought to tell
thee all, my position of agonized indecision, but what would
that avail me ? Thy word had passed to become the bride of
him who won thee, and wouldst thou, couldst thou annul this
for me ? No, I would win both, and won them I should had
my noble steed not failed I would have won thee, Isohne ; but
what avails it now ? Merciful heaven 1 to know to feel thou
lovest me I scarce knew how much I loved before, and yet
to lose thee thus why did I live to say it why live to lose
thee ? Better to have died !"
" No, Alan, no !" and Isohne turned towards him, and laid
her hands, which, despite every effort, visibly trembled, on his
arm, detaining him as he started up in agony ; " No, no, do not
say bo ; there are other nearer, dearer claimants on thy love.
Oh, think on the mother for whom thou hast dared, hast borne
so much, and whose love, whose worth demands yet more ;
think of the poor afflicted Agnes, to whom, though she knows
thee not as a brother, yet thou art so dear. Alan, dearest
Alan, live for them, for me 1"
^tiz^y Google
, THE DATS 07 BKDCE. 205
"What, for thee?" passionately answered the unhappy young
man. " How may I think of thee as the loved, the happy wife
of Douglas ? wilt thou, canst thou wed him ?"
" My word has passed, I cannot recall it, unless he give it
back," replied Isoline, with dignity, even though her tears were
falling fast. " Alan, leave me nay, nay, I speak not in anger,
I need not that reproachful glance ; we must part, and where-
fore lengthen an interview harrowing to us both? Leave me,
Alan, and take with thee my earnest prayers for thy welfare,
my fervent sympathy in thy joy of regaining a mother such as
thine. Go, in pity do not linger ; forget me, save as a true and
faithful friend.'
" Forget thee !" reiterated Alan. " Isoline, Isoline, can the
love of years be banished by a word ? But thou art right ;
why should I linger, when to gaze upon thee thus but swells
my heart to bursting ? King Robert trusted me, I will not
abuse his trust. God bless thee, keep thee, lady !"
He stood before her a moment erect, seemingly calm, but
it was only a moment ; the next he had flung himself before
her, covered the hand he had seized with kisses, and then,
with an almost inarticulate " Isoline, dearest Isoline !" rushed
from the room.
CHAPTER XI.
The retreating steps of Sir Alan had faded in the distance,
but still Isoline remained where he had left her, pale, mute,
motionless as a statue ; then, as if nerved by sudden resolution,
her features relaxed in their painful rigidity, though their deadly
paleness remained. She sat down, evidently determined to
conquer all appearance of emotion, then rung a silver bell be-
side her; it was answered by an attendant.
" Has the Lord James of Douglas quitted the convent ?" she
inquired, and there was not even the faintest quiver in. her full
rich voice.
" He hath but now returned, lady, resolved on waiting thy
pleasure to admit him again ; he did but seek his pavilion to
bring with him the banner of St. Edmund, which he tarries to
lay at thy feet."
D,afec==yGooale
206 THE DATS OF BBGCE.
" Tell him I will see him now, nay, that I desire his pres-
ence," she answered, and the attendant departed.
It was not ten minutes after this message was dispatched,
that Douglas, radiant in happiness and animation, obeyed the
summons ; but to Isoline it had felt an age of suffering, which
was so vividly impressed upon her beautiful features, notwith-
standing her calm and dignified demeanor, that Douglas sprung
towards her b unfeigned alarm.
" Lady, thou art ill. What has chanced ? speak to me, for
heaven's sake !"
" I have sent to speak to thee, Douglas," she replied, with
an effort at a smile, which affected him infinitely more than
tears, " and I will, when this foolish heart can gain sufficient
courage so to do; but truly, it needs more time than I
believed."
" Courage time and to speak tome ! Ah ! how little canst
thou read the love I bear thee, and thou canst hesitate to ask
me aught."
" Nay, 'tis because I know thou lovest me that I pause," re-
plied Isoline, becoming more and more agitated. " Douglas,
thou hast read my face aright, I am wretched ; my own proud
heart hath made me so, but my happiness rests with thee."
"With me?" repeated the astonished earl, gazing at her
troubled countenance almost in terror; "and canst doubt one
moment I should hesitate to purchase that happiness, even with
the price of my own?"
"Wilt thou, canst thou? generous noble 1 ." burst from the
lips of Isoline. " But why should I ask it why demand it
at such a price ? Douglas, Douglas, why hast thou loved
me?"
"Who could know thee, watch thee, as I have from child-
hood into youth, from youth to a womanhood beautiful, glorious
as thine, and yet not love thee, lady ?" replied Douglas, deeply
affected ; " but let me not speak of myself now enough, thou
art unhappy, and seekest friendship, consolation at my hand.
Oh, speak then, dearest, best ; 'tis agony to see thee thus, and
feel I can relieve, and yet thou'rt silent '
" Silent, hesitating no more," answered Isoline, successfully
conquering the feelings that almost crushed her, and dashing
back the gathering tears, she turned those large, beautiful eyes
upon him, and laid both her hands in his.
3jl.zo::y GoOgllT
TOE DATS OP' BKUCK. 207
" Listen to me, Douglas ; I will not wed thee, deceiving to
the end. Thou shalt read the heart thou seekest ; thou shalt
know its every throb, its most secret sigh, and then, an the
struggle be too great for thy exalted soul, an thou still de-
mandest that which thou hast so gloriously won, be it so, I will
still be thine. Douglas, thou hast sought me, believing my
heart free, unoccupied, save by the love of freedom, power,
woman's caprice, which my actions have evinced,' my words
acknowledged. I told thee I had naught but cold regard to
give even to him who won me ; but I said not that I could
love, nay, that I did love, and that it was in the wild hope the
object of that love would prove it was returned, by joining the
noble baud who struggled for me, that my hand, as the reward
of glory, was then proclaimed. Do not start, do not look
thus : I have more to tell, and how may I have courage to
proceed 1"
The face of the Douglas had become pale as her own, while
the unconscious but convulsive closing of his hands on hers
betrayed at once the agony her words had caused; still he
made a sign for her to proceed, and she continued.
" Douglas, I was not deceived ; though he might not join
those who thronged round me that eventful night, in presence
of my royal uncle and his court, for he might not then proclaim
his name aud solve the mystery around him, still aware that
the day which obtained my hand gave bim also a name, he
besought my permission to strive for me with the rest, and it
was granted, for it was this I sought. A dearer duty inter-
posed between us; the fulfilment of his vow demanded his first
exertions, and thus it was he failed. Douglas, dear, generous
friend, thy valor bath won my hand, but the love thou seekest,
the love thou deservest, oh, I cannot give thee ; it hath mocked
my control, it hath passed from my own keeping ; my heart
hath shrined but one image, and, oh, it hath no room for more.
Perchance I have deceived, have done thee wrong, in permitting
thee to believe so long my heart was free, and thus might be-
come thine own; but how might I, dared I breathe unto
another what I had denied unto myself? Oh, hadst thou but
loved me as a brother, as I love, esteem, and reverence thee,
Isoline had bad no secret from thee, even of her heart ! Thou
hast a claim upon me now, I acknowledge, nay, adhere to it.
I ask nothing but as thine own noble spirit dictates ; I have
208 THE DATS OF BRT7CE.
laid bare my heart, have told thee all. My hand is thine, if
still thou cfaimest its possession, still beliovest I alone can
make thee happy."
There was a long pause. The iron frame of the stalwart
warrior shook as would a child's ; still he held her hands, still
he gazed upon her face, upturned to his in all the beautiful,
confiding frankness of her nature ; his very lip became white
and quivering, and the big drops of intense, though internal
suffering stood on his tightly-drawn brow. Isoline could hot
witness this agony unmoved ; he felt her hot tears fast falling
on his hand ; he heard the low sobs that would have vent, and
there was one deep though evidently smothered groan, and then
he laid one trembling hand upon her head, and uttered her name.
"Isoline, look up, beloved one!" his voice grew firmer after
the first agonized effort; "tell me one thing more he whom
tbou lovest is "
"Alan of Buchan," replied Isoline, but in a voice so low, it
could have been heard by none but one so intent as Douglas.
" And be loves thee, Isoline ; loves thee, and will make tby
happiness his first, his dearest object Canst thou trust thy
future fate to his keeping without a fear?"
" Aye, as I would to thine," was her instant reply.
" Nay, Isoline, thou must trust it something more. In my
keeping, alas ! there would be little happiness," he struggled
to speak playfully, but he overrated his own powers, and the
last words involuntarily breathed such intense suffering that he
abruptly paused. " Yes, thou mayest trust him ; he is, in
truth, noble, faithful, well deserving of woman's love, aye, even of
love bke thine. I should have seen this, known this, but I was
blind, wilfully blind. Isoline, dearest, noblest ! for such thou
art in thy glorious truth, oh, do not weep. Thou shalt, thou
shalt be happy. Give me but time; my energies are stunned
I am not Douglas yet. But thou shalt not have trusted me,
confided in me in vain ; give me, give me but time. Thou shalt
know how dear is thy happiness, how much I love thee ; but
now, now, God of heaven ! now "
There was no other word, the hands which still clasped hers
were cold as stone ; he drew her close to him, his lips, burning
and quivering, lingered on her brow ; he released her, uncon-
scious that the pressure of his hands was tight even to pain ; that
too at length gave way another moment and he was gone.
Google
THE DAYS OF BBDCB. 209
Sir Alan's impulse to rush from the convent, he cared not
whither, was arrested by the appearance of the king and the
countess, whose anxiety to gaze again upon her Agnes, even
though she dreaded finding herself unknown, could not be re-
strained. The haggard appearance of the young knight could
not fail to attract notice, but there was evidently such a strugi
gle for control, that both the king and countess checked the
words of anxiety upon their lips.
" Thou must not leave me thus, my Alan. I have regained
thee too brief a period to lose thee even for on hour. I want
thee ever near me, my child, or I may deem this joy still but a
dream of happiness, from which I yet may wake.
60 spoke the countess, seeking to soothe the sufferings she
intuitively felt sprung from a wound she might not heal, by an
appeal to his filial love, and he felt the appeal. Left alone
together while the king went to mark the state of Agnes, the
reports of whom had alarmed him, Isabella engaged her son so
effectually in conversation on all that had befallen him in those
long years of agonized separation, on all she had endured, all
her feelings, that unconsciously a calm stole over him ; and he
found himself listening with intense interest to bis mother's
simple yet trying tale, and by the time they were summoned to
the chamber of Agnes, he was sufficiently controlled to accom-
pany bis mother. The king met them in an antechamber, the
animation of victory, of bis thrice glorious success, had given
place to an expression of anxious mournfulness which struck
Alan at once.
" My sister !" he exclaimed, " oh, what of her ?"
" She is changed, Alan, I know not bow; I can scarce define
it. It seems strange three short days should have produced a
difference so striking. I fear me, lady, the hope I have ven-
tured to breathe is vain ; that lovely frame is sinking fast, even
as the mind grows clearer."
" Thinks your highness she will know me ? hath she any rec-
ollection of her mother ' falteringly and tearfully inquired the
countess.
" I scarce dare answer, for her only thought as yet bath
been of me, rejoicing in my glory, in the freedom of her coun-
try, murmuring of him, whose task her sweet and gentle fancy
pictures now as done. She sleeps ; the lady abbess deems it
better she should in waking find thee beside her, that thou
210 THE DAYS OF BBTJCE.
shouldst wait her waking ; her slumbers are brief as they are
light. Canst thou bear to gaze upon her, lady t she is changed
e en since thou looked upon her last."
" Fear me not, my liege ; let me but see my child."
The wish was granted ; again did that mother gaze upon her
suffering child, again kneel beside her couch, where she lay, bo
frail, so lightly, the cushions seemed insensible to her weight.
She lay like a flower, whose loveliness and purity beams forth
even from its closed petals and drooping head. A stillness as
of death pervaded the chamber, though many fingered within
it ; the countess and King Robert sate on either side of the
couch, Alan, with arms folded, leaned against the wall at the
foot, his eyes fixed upon bis sleeping sister ; the abbess sate at
some little distance, but watchful, anxious as the rest. An
hour passed ere a slight movement took place in that sleeping
form ; her eyes unclosed, and fixed themselves in wondering
amscioume-is on her mother's face.
" Am I still a child 1" she murmured ; " have I never quit-
ted my childhood's home ? Mother, is it long since we parted ?
it seems so, and yet it cannot be, or how wouldst thou be by
me, watching my slumbers, as thou hast done so oft before ?
Where am I is this the Tower of Buchan * and Alan, dear
Alan, where is he ? I would kiss thee, mother. Why can I
not rise J"
Subduing emotion with an almost convulsive effort, the
countess tenderly supported her in a sitting posture, and the
arms of Agnes were instantly folded round her neck, clinging
closer, yet closer to the bosom to which she was so fondly
clasped, while the tears and kisses of the countess mingled on
her cheek.
" Do not weep, sweet mother ; speak to me, it seems so long
since I -heard thy voice, and yet it cannot be ; my sleep cannot
have been so long as it appears."
" My child, my blessed child !" was all the countess could
reply, despite her every effort for less agitated words.
Agnes hastily lifted her head, a sudden contraction con-
vulsed for a single instant her features, and she put her hand
to her brow.
"It cannot have been all a dream. Have I not lived ages
of suffering since I heard that dear voice ? I thought I was
still a child, but childhood cannot have such strange, dark
Google
THE DATS OF BKUCE. 211
Yet thou art my mother. Yes, yes, and that is
Alan, my own, darling Alan. 1 cannot be bo deceived ; but it
seems so long since I have seen either of ye as if a blank had
effaced existence. Mother, my own mother, hast thou been
with thine Agnes all this time ? I do not think so. Fold me,
fold me closer do not leave me again ; oh, it is so blessed to
look upon thy sweet face."
She was silent a brief while, and neither her mother nor
brother could speak in answer. Alan had caught her band,
and was repeatedly kissing it.
" Is there not some one else I miss ?" she resumed. " Alan,
dearest, is Nigel gone ? would he go without farewell ? oh,
no. Ha! who is that?" her eye had caught the countenance
of the king looking upon her with strong emotion. " That is
not Nigel ; no, no !" The voice changed suddenly and fear-
fully, a darker and longer convulsion passed across her beautiful
features, she struggled to speak, but for a brief minute only in-
distinct murmurs came.
" Thou art my mother ; oh, 'tis all clear now ! there is still
a blank, but what caused that blank '? It matters not, 'tis all
over now ; my husband, my dearest husband, thine Agnes will
soon join thee ; death has no terrors, no sorrow, for it gives me
back to thee. Mother, Alan, do not weep for me, life could
have no joy alone. And thou, my sovereign, there is a dim
sense of unfailing love, unchanging kindness from thee to me,
where all else is blank. My husband blessed thee with his dy-
ing breath, and so, yet more gratefully, more earnestly, doth
bis poor Agnes. Nay, tell me not of life, I know that I am
dying memory, sense, consciousness, are all too clear for a
dwelling upon earth. Is there not one other I would see, one
I have dearly loved Isoline, my kind, my gentle Isoline, or is
she but a creation of my brain ? yet her image seems too pal-
pable; an there be indeed such, oh, call her to me."
Words cannot describe the expression of feature that followed
the convulsion in which consciousness returned. The Agnes of
previous years seemed suddenly restored, save that every fea-
ture was etherealized ; it was as if every grosser particle had
fled, as if an angel had already taken that form, and waited but
the archangel's summons to wing her flight above. She had
laid her head upon her mother's bosom, a smile of heavenly
peace beaming alternately on her and the king, for Alan bad
212 THE DAYS OF BKTJCB.
sprung to obey her will. A few brief minutes and Isoline
stood with her brother by her side.
"Ah, it was no vision, no vain fancy! Isoline, dearest Iso-
line !" she exclaimed, with sudden strength, and springing up,
she threw her arms around her neck, her lips met here with
one long, last kiss, and she sunk back. " Mother, he calls me ;
do you not hear him ? Nigel, my husband, they have loosed
my chains, oh, I may come to thee joy, joy I come I
There was silence ; in its fulness, its rich, its thrilling sweet-
ness, that voice was hushed, but so unchanged, unshadowed,
was that angelic face, it was long, long ere a breath, a sob,
might whisper of death. That mother's glance moved not
from her child, as if she still dreamed of sleep, of life oh, who
might undeceive her! neither King Robert nor Alan could
break that stillness ; but gently IsoUne approached, Bhe knelt
before the countess, and, raising her hand to her lips, whispered,
" The last Word was joy. Lady, sweet lady, how may we
grieve V
Isabella's head drooped on her shoulder, with a burst of re-
lieving tears.
" A little while, and I too may joy ; the earthly chains are
loosed, my blessed child at peace, but now I feel only what my
yearning heart hath lost my beautiful, my own!"
It was uear midnight, and Alan and Isoune sate alone beside
the bed. The former had succeeded in persuading his mother
to retire from that melancholy task, and it was on his return
from escorting her to an adjoining chamber, from lingering
a while beside her, that he found Isoline bending over the beau-
tiful form of bis sister, imprinting a parting kiss upon the chis-
elled brow. It was evident she was not aware of his intended
return, and had delayed the impulse of her heart till he had
departed. She started, as on rising from the posture of devo-
tion in which she had sunk she beheld him. He could see the
flush of indecision pass across her expressive features ; his own
breast felt so calm, so tranquillized, that it seemed as if in the
holy presence of death even the society of Isoline could not dis-
turb it. He approached respectfully.
"Go not, lady," he said, "an it please thee to rest beside
all that remains of one we have both so dearly loved. I have
promised my mother that I will not leave this mournful vigU
THE DATS OF BKUCE. ' 213
till morning dawns ; but an thou wouldst my absence rather
than I should share it with thee, I will report the change of
watchers, and doubt not she will rest content. Go not, I be-
seech thee, an thou earnest hither to stay !"
" I do not ahun thy presence, my lord, nay, would share thy
vigil ; this is not a scene, a presence for aught of earth or
earthly love to enter on, and for the brief while I linger here it
needs not thou shouldst go. I fear no weakness now I" She
epoke calmly and collectedly, and nearly an hour rolled by and
still found them on either side the dead ; but no word or sound
disturbed the stillness. No one who casually glanced on (hose
lone watchers might guess their relative positions, the thoughts
that perchance were struggling unexpressed in either heart.
Large waxen tapers burning, two at the foot and two at the
head of the couch, shed their soft light directly upon Agnes,
who lay, not like sleep indeed, but beautiful as sculptured mar-
ble, every feature so perfect, and in such deep repose, no
thought of anguish could linger in those who gazed upon her;
all of suffering had passed, it was calm, placid, lovely as a
child's, breathing of the peace to which she had departed and
. forever. The face of Isoline was concealed by her right hand
and the long loose curls that fell around her in her left lay the
cold hand of Agnes ; her whole position denoting her mind
was with the dead alone. The gaze of Alan lingered alternately
on his sister and on Isoline, seeking in that still holy hour the
strength he so much needed, but not so much engrossed as not
to become conscious that the light of the tapers at the foot was
impeded. He hastily looked up ; a tall, martial figure stood
before them, his head uncovered, his arms folded in a long
wrapping- cloak. One glance and Sir Alan had arisen.
" Douglas !" he exclaimed ; " my Lord of Douglas, can it
be! yet wherefore ?"
"Wherefore should it not be, Alan! Who could associate
with the suffering, the loving Agnes, yet mourn not she is gone,
despite the gain to her? I sought thee, Alan, ignorant of that
which had befallen thee, and they told me I should find thee
by thy sister's bier."
He paused abruptly. Startled by his voice, Isoline had risen
from her drooping posture, had fixed her large eyes inquiringly
upon him, for there was something in the very calmness of nis
tone that terrified her. He had stepped more forward, and
214 THE DAYS OP BBUCE.
having dropped the cloak from his face the light, fell foil upon
it, and disclosed so fearful a change of countenance that both
Alan and Isoline involuntarily started forward, with an excla-
mation of alarmed surprise. It was as if an age of agony had
passed over him, leaving its indented furrows on bis features.
There were deep lines on his noble brow and round his mouth,
which, when he ceased to speak, appeared involuntarily to
compress, as if still under the influence of immense bodily pain ;
his cheeks, usually ruddy, were deadly pale, rendered perchance
the more remarkable from its contrast with the naturally swar-
thy hue of his complexion. His eye, strangely and fearfully
bright, yet appeared sunk deeper in its socket, from which the
burning agony within seemed emitted in restless flashes ; his
hair, generally rough with natural curls, now lay on his brow
damp and matted ; and there was something in his whole ap-
pearance so unlike himself, that Alan, wholly unconscious of
what had passed, felt his warmest sympathies aroused, and
forgetting he was his successful rival, all but that a noble com-
panion in arms was under the influence of some whelming dis-
tress, grasped his hand, exclaiming
" In heaven's name, Douglas, what has chanced what hath
befallen thee?" '
" Befallen me ? why, nothing," he answered, returning the
friendly pressure with a frank though quivering smile. " Noth-
ing but an unexpected strife a battle, which hath wearied me
and left me as you see, looking perchance somewhat exhaust-
ed, but not conquered, Alan. No, no, Douglas is conqueror
still!"
" My noble friend, what can you mean a strife, a battle ?
I have heard naught; nay, thou dost hut mock me the fier-
cest strife never made thee look thus."
"I never knew the meaning of those words, 'fierce strife,'
until to-day, my friend. I tell thee I have fought and have
conquered, and am wearied, though triumphant still."
" Conquered fought in heaven's name, with whom ?"
" Myself!" replied Douglas, with such a deep, thrilling em-
phasis on that single word that it spoke a life. Alan dropped
his hand in speechless wonder, keeping his eye fixed on him as
on some superior, but the effect on Isoline seemed stranger
" Douglas, Douglas I" she exclaimed, with bitter tears. " Oh,
THE DAYS OF BBTJCB. 215
no, no, no, 'tis I have done this ; I alone have caused this an-
guish !"
Douglas put his arm around her, but he pressed no kiss upon
that beautiful face, lost in such remorseful sorrow, upraised to
his; a slight convulsion might have contracted his features,
but it was so momentary that even by Isoline it was unseen.
" Nay, speak not so false a word, sweet one, or I shall chide
thee. Thou shalt make Douglas prouder, greater, nobler than
he hath been yet, and shall this be a cause of sorrow ? For
thee, Sir Alan, tell me truly, solemnly, for the holy presence in
which we stand is no place for flattering deception bearest
thou no enmity, no envy towards the Douglas for a success, a
triumph dearer to him than all the blushing honors men say
that he has gained ? Are we stall comrades, still friends?"
There was a pause, a struggle ; for the distress of Isoline,
the answering words of Douglas had caused a revulsion of
feeling in Alan's bounding heart, and he had stepped back in
silence and in gloom.
" Yea," he said, at leng'th, and he placed his hand in that
of Douglas ; " yes, thy worth is too high, too glorious for Alan
Comy n to disdain thy friendship, even though thou bearest
from him the dearest hope, the loveliest treasure of his soul.
Enmity oh, not thus degraded am I ; envy try me not too
hard, my lord. How may I love, love as thou dost, and yet
not envy !"
" And is thy love like mine, Alan ? were her happiness dis-
tinct from thine, thinkest thou but enough of this, I will not
press thee hardly. Thy words are cold, but 1 will make them
warm ; thou shalt love me, Alan ; the Douglas will make him-
self a home in your united hearts, and mourn not he is lonely.
Isoline, loveliest, noblest, look up and smile ; said I not I would
seek thy happiness above my own, and couldst thou doubt
me ? Alan, here, in the holy presence of the dead, I resign
my claim. Ob, love each other ; oh, be true, be happy ! and
I ask no more. Nay, speak not," he continued, with strong
yet controlled emotion, " let no shade, no care for Douglas
come athwart the pure heaven of your bliss; he loves you
both too well to mourn that, for your sakes, a while bis life is
lone."
Gently, as he spoke, he drew bhe weeping Isoline to his
bosom, and pressed a brother's kiss upon her lips, then placing
216 the DATS or BEUOH.
her in the arms of the agitated Alan, breathed on them both
hie blessing.
Oh, virtue, unselfish, immortal virtue, how glorious thou
art ! how faint, how pale, how shadow-like seemeth the war-
rior's glory, the sage s wisdom, the lover's glowing dream to
thee 1 Art thou not the voice of Him who breathed into man
the breath of life, and giving thee birth and substance in his
soul bade thee linger there, despite of woe and sin and care
linger, when oft imagined flown linger, when seeming crushed
beneath the dull and massive woes of earth linger, as still the
golden link 'twixt earth and heaven, the invisible essence unit-
ing man to God, his soul to glory ? Oh, beautiful art thou,
and glorious the triumph, which, though oft unknown to earth,
is caught up by thousands and thousands of ministering spirits
to that throne where eternally thou dwellest, eternally thou
reignest coeval with thy God !
CHAPTER XII.
Thb effects of the battle of Bannockbum on the external
glory and internal prosperity and happiness of Scotland is a
subject too exclusively belonging to history to be lingered on
by the chronicler of chivalry and romance. Some brief notice
of the fate of the prisoners we must take, and our task is well-
nigh accomplished. The spoil collected from the field alone
was inestimable, and the large ransoms paid by the numerous
prisoners of exalted rank added immensely to the national
treasures. A very few weeks sufficed to give King Rob-
ert the blessings for which so many years, despite of dawning
prosperity and individual glory, he had so intensely yearned.
His wife, his sisters, all those beloved relatives and friends,
who, from adherence to his cause or love for his person, had
for so many years languished in English prisons, were released,
their liberty eagerly granted in exchange for that of the Earl
of Hereford, Lord High Constable of England. Again was
Scotland a free, an independent, nay, more, a triumphant king-
dom, strong in her own resources, united in herself, glorying
in the sway of an enlightened sovereign, combining in his own
3 3 l.zo= =y C.OOglf
THE DATS OF BEUCE. 217
person the wisdom of the sage, the prescience, the prudence of
the statesman, and every dazzling quality that could adorn the
patriot and the warrior.
Peace was upon the land, her silvery pinions shedding a
lucid lustre on the colossal spirit of freedom, now, with gigantic
tread, claiming Scotland as her own. The glittering sword
was exchanged for the sceptre of the judge. The court was
no more 'mid glens and plains, and rocks and forests, nor was
the royal palace merely the resort of iron-clad warriors, amid
whom the noble matron or the gentle maiden seemed strangely
out of plaoe. Bank, beauty, glory, worth, all who had clung
to King Robert's serviee in time of need were welcome there ;
and joyous in truth was it to the good king to feel reward was
in his power, and deal it with unsparing hand on all he loved,
on all who so loved him. From the palace to the hut fes-
tivity and joyousness danced along the land ; from the king
to the serf there was naught but one deep feeling of chas-
tened and thankful bliss, permitting, encouraging the dark
memories of the past, for in them the present was sanctified
and blessed.
Many of the Scottish nobles who, serving under the banner of
Edward, had been taken prisoners, were, on payment of some
fines and a short imprisonment, received anew into favor, on
their earnestly entreating to take the vows of allegiance to their
rightful sovereign. Amongst these was the Earl of Fife, who,
at his sister and nephew's intercession,' found himself restored
to his parental estates, without the forfeiture of one title,
coupled only with a condition, which, in his present state of
mind, he was willing enough to comply with to recognize
Alan as his successor, leaving to him all his restored posses-
sions married or unmarried, this condition was to hold good
to the exclusion of all natural heirs. Now, the Earl of Fife
was too indolently and selfishly disposed even to dream of the
toils and troubles and little pleasures of matrimony, and, more-
over, began, as fast as his volatile and unprincipled character
admitted, to take a vast liking to his handsome, gallant, and,
what was better still, royally favored nephew. His much-in-
jured sister had met him with the open hand of forgiveness
and entire forgetfulness of the unkindness of the past, and he
hugged himself in the comfortable belief that, notwithstanding
many hindrances to his luxurious habits, Scotland was as good
TOL. ,,-10
218 TBS DATB OF BBDOB.
a country as England to live in, and her long quite as well
worth serving as Edward.
True to his promise, notwithstanding the numerous and mo-
mentous events with which the day after the battle had teemed,
King Robert with his own lips gave unqualified liberty to that
Sir Alan Comyn who had been so long imposed on the world
as the son of Isabella, and the young man, impressed with the
munificence and condescension of his royal captor, voluntarily
took an oath never to bear arms against him, and requested
permission to retire to foreign lands.
To those m whom the character of Malcolm may have exci-
ted any curiosity, it may be well to say from bis earliest years
the Countess of Buchan had been his benefactress ; inheriting
from bis parents' lips and example the love, reverence, ana
fidelity they felt and practised, his whole thoughts and affec-
tions had centred in the countess and her children, and the
secret of his wanderings for the first few years after the coun-
tess's imprisonment, was to discover some clue to the fate of
Sir Alan ; no persuasions, no representations could reconcile
him to the belief that he was dead. The barbarous policy of
the Earl of Buchan of course eluded all his efforts ; but though
effectually concealed by increase of stature, deeper voice, and
his disguise from even King Robert's eyes, Malcolm discovered
Sir Alan on the instant, and vowed his services and preserva-
tion of his secret, with an exulting love and fidelity peculiarly
sweet and affecting to the desolate heart of his young master ;
how he performed that vow our readers are the best judges.
Now that his task was done, his beloved mistress at liberty,
bis master freed from all painful mystery, and blessed with
happiness beyond all expectation, he no longer refused to throw
aside the page's garb, and adopt the more honorable though
graver office of esquire, retaining in truth his love of adventure,
but failing in nothing which could add to the welfare and in-
terest of his master.
It cannot be supposed that the detail of Bucban's last inter-
view with his son and the justice he had rendered him could
fail of sinking deeply on the noble heart of the Countess of
Buchan. It had been a struggle, a terrible, almost prostrating
struggle, ere she felt she could so school her spirit as to feel
she forgave freely, unconditionally forgave her husband the
unequalled agony his cruelty, his uncalled-for injuries had in-
3jl.zo::y GoOgllT
THB DATS OF BRUCE. 219
meted. It was not for her own personal sufferings, those she
might have borne without once failing in charity and kindness
towards him, but the horrible thought he had ruthlessly mas-
sacred his child ; a thought she knew his dark stern nature too
well to doubt, and which she had implicitly believed for the
eight years of her weary captivity, for the rumor her boy was
alive, and the petted minion of Edward's court, had never
obtained a moment's credence in her soul. That horrible image
filled her whole heart with such a feeling of loathing, of detes-
tation towards its perpetrator, that she almost shuddered at
herself. But Isabella knew where to seek for strength to sub-
due even this too natural but fearful emotion, for comfort even
under this appalling infliction. She had thought with com-
parative calmness on the supposed death of her Agnes, for she
truly felt, in the utter loneliness, the dreadful bereavement of
her lot, death were better than life, and gradually, nay, almost
imperceptibly, by incessant prayer, after years of anguish, her
feelings became calmed towards her husband ; she could think
of him, at first with decrease of pain, then with steady calm-
ness, and at length with such perfect, angelic forgiveness, that
had evil come upon him which she could have averted, she
would have hesitated not a moment to fly to his side, offering
him the hand of amity, of charity, which no dark remembrance
could shade. Such being her feelings while still lingering in
lonely confinement, how greatly were they heightened when
from her son's eloquent lips she heard of his father's deep re-
morse, and read its transcript in Buchan's own hand. Again
and again she pondered on the past, and in the deep though
chastened happiness now upon her spirit, which after a while
even the sweet touching memories of the departed Agnes
might not alloy, for earth could have brought her no joy, she
persuaded herself into the belief that she, too, had judged
harshly ; that he had scarce deserved the loathing abhorrence
with which she had regarded him. In the deep thrilling bliss
of clasping her living son to her yearning heart, how might
she recall the agony inflicted on her by the tale of his supposed
death ? The effect of these secret ponderings may be gathered
from her own lips.
It was in an apartment of the Castle of Fife the countess
and her son were seated, some three or four months after the
battle of Bannockburn. Alan, now known only as Sir Alan
D^cay G00gle
220 THE DAYS OS BEUOE.
Duff, or the Lord Baron of Kircaldie, for the hateful name of
Comyn of Buchan might not remain with bo faithful and loyal
a subject of the Bruce and patriot of Scotland, was carelessly
seated on a broad cushion, resting his arm caressingly on his
mother's knee, and looking up entreatingly in her face. All
trace of sorrow or care had vanished from his eminently hand-
some features, and completely recovered from the effect of his
severe exhaustion and wounds, he presented a model of manly
beauty that man might admire and woman love. They were
evidently in very earnest converse, interesting enough to make
Alan forget that Isoline might be marvelling at his protracted
absence, for she and her mother, Lady Campbell, were both,
at the Countess Isabella's earnest entreaty, inmates of her
parental castle.
" But my dear mother."
" But my dear son."
" Think of the miseries of such a voyage, and the hardships
thon mayest have to encounter ere we can obtain even the
faintest clue to my father's retreat."
" We, my dear Alan ; I do not mean thee to accompany
me."
" Worse still, dearest mother ; can you think for a moment
seriously, thine Alan would let thee take such a voyage alone ?
but of that matter we will speak hereafter ; at present let me
for once obtain the conquest over thy noble will. Why shouldst
thou seek my father?"
" Bather, my son, why should I not ? Alan, I cannot rest in
peace till I have personally assured him of my entire oblivion
of the past, that though there can be no affection between us,
there is that blessed charity which covereth in truth such a
multitude of sins. He wronged me, injured, persecuted me;
but now, tormented as he is with remorse, who' so fitted to shed
halm over his dying hour as the object of those wrongs ? He
has done me justice, and shall I hold back when a trifling exer-
tion may give him comfort ? Listen to me, my child ; I owe
him reparation for what I have ever felt an act of deception,
although at the time I imagined a holy duty to the dead com-
manded it should be persevered in. I gave my hand to thy
father, Alan, in pursuance of an early engagement, entered
into by our mutual parents, ere we could have a voice. I
tacitiy acknowledged the holy vows at the altar's foot which
)3i K:: , Google
TOE DAYS Of BBDOE. 221
made us one, and solemnly swore to adhere to them to the letter,
on all but one point I could not love my husband ; for I was
even then too painfully conscious I loved another, a stranger,
whose very name I knew not. I should have avowed this, my
child, but my courage failed ; but though in this I erred, it was
only in this, for I have been true to tby father, Alan, a true
and faithful wife. The dream of my youth passed away in the
deep delight, the blessed cares of maternal love, guiltless alike
in word and deed, as in thought ; it was not till my solitary
imprisonment I learned to feel that had I avowed my real
feelings ere I joined my hand with his, much of misery might
have been saved me, and much of crime and remorse spared
him. I feel I owe him some reparation, my child, and it will
be a blessed comfort to my heart to feel that I may bestow it,
by proving forgiveness and charity ; and if be will permit me,
tending his dying hour. Have I silenced thee, my Alan ?"
" Silenced, but barely convinced. I recognize my exalted,
noble-minded mother in every word, but still my heart cannot
feel the necessity, cannot persuade itself there is any call for
reparation. Rather let me seek my father; let me be the
bearer of kindness and forgiveness from thee to him, and by
my filial love soothe his departing hours. It is my duty as
well as inclination to seek him in his exile, and prove to him
I feel him still my father. Mother, there is no duty upon
thee."
" There is duty, my child, the duty of proving forgiveness ;
it is easy to speak it, but less easy to give it action. Speak not
of thy departure ; it shall not be. Why shouldst thou leave
thy gentle Isoline, resign the honorable post about the king
thou bearest for an indefinite period, a painful exile when
thy conduct has been such as to call down on thee all the hap-
piness, all the blessings thou canst receive 1"
" And will not this argument hold good with thee, my
mother, yet more than with me ? What hast thou not borne ?
What dost thou not merit ? But if I may not go instead, let
me go with thee ; surely, in asking this, I do but claim the
privilege of a son."
" Alan, dearest, thou hast risked more than enough for me;
hast hazarded thy happiness, all that could make life glad, to
win my freedom, to bless me again with life and joy ; thou
hast heaped upon me such unutterable bliss in thy devoted
Google
222 THE DAT8 OF BRUCE.
lore, that in very truth I will draw upon it no more. I will
eee thee wedded to the noble being thou wouldst have resigned
for me ; to her, that were all the noble maidens of Scotland set
before me, would have been my dearest choice. I will see this
blessed rite, and then for a brief period separate myself from
my beloved ones, to return to them when a sterner duty ac-
complished permits a life of unruffled tranquillity and joy. Seek
not to dissuade me, my child ; my mind is made up and
more, King Robert's tardy and reluctant consent obtained."
" Ha ! ere thou wouldst confide in me, mother ?"
" Son, I knew all that thou wouldst urge, nay, that perhaps
thou wouldst seek the king to beseech his prohibition, and I
forestalled thee. Do not look so grieved, my own Alan ; what
is this brief separation, painful to us both as it may be, com-
pared to what we have both endured I"
" Separation ! who talks of separation ? Dearest lady, what
is this all- engrossing subject, that blinds Sir Alan even to my
presence ? Truly, my lord, an thou heedest me so little, I will
summon back all my former power to recall thine homage and
obedience. What is this weighty matter, an the Countess Isa-
bella forbids it not, I demand to know it, aye, every item, sir,
on your allegiance V
" And thou shalt know it, lady," replied Alan, gallantly en-
tering at once into the spirit of her words, and bowing his knee
before her ; " and then, an thou dost not acquit me of all wilful
negligence thou shalt condemn me to whatsoever penance that
shall please thee," and seating her by the side of his mother, he
resumed his cushion, and briefly, but eloquently, repeated all
that had passed between his mother and himself.
' " And must this be, dearest lady will no persuasion turn
thee from thy purpose V
" None, love.; for it is duty."
" And it is thy children's duty to go with thee. Alan shall
not leave me, for when he and I are one, whither he goes I
will go 1 Nay, not a word, sweet mother ; for art thou not
mine even as his ? Thou knowest not Isoline, an tbou thinkest
even commands can turn her from a resolve as this. We will
go together."
" Nay, dearest, but why shouldst thou leave the comforts,
blessings that await thee in Scotland, to follow me for a doubt-
ful good, encountering, perchance, much discomfort, even trial ?"
THE DAYB OF BBCCB. 223
" And better we encounter it than thee ; but if truly thou
wilt go, so, too, will we," answered Isoline, caressingly clinging
to the countess ; " and Alan can be spared from court, but not
from his allegiance to thee and me."
Who could resist that playful mixture of authority and love ?
The countess tried alike entreaties and commands to change
her resolve, but all in vain ; and Lord Kircaldie, rejoiced be-
yond all control at the success of her eloquence, flung his arm
" round her waist, pressing more than oue kiss upon her coral
lips, and marvellous to say, eliciting no manner of reproof.
The consent of King Robert to this new arrangement was
not so difficult to obtain as it had been to the countess's de-
parture alone ; he trusted that reconciliation effected, her chil-
dren would prevail on the high-minded Isabella to return with
them, and not, as she had resolved to do, remain till her hus-
band should be released by death in voluntary exile.
The six months of mourning for the lamented Agnes had
elapsed, and all was now active preparation for a double mar-
riage ; the Lady Isoline Campbell with the Lord Baron of Kir-
caldie, and Sir Walter Fitz-Alan, Lord High Steward of Scot-
land, with the youthful, arch, and lovely daughter of the Bruce.
On a union which history claims, we need say, but little ; for
Isoline and Alan the course of love had not run smooth, hut
for the Princess Marjory, ancestress of a long line of kings, and
to her devoted cavalier it had, and now the last solemn rite
was looked forward to with happiness as great to them as by
those whose affection time and circumstance had more severely
The evening previous to his marriage, as Lord Kircaldie was
hurrying through one of the galleries of the palace of Scone,
where the court was again assembled, and in whose ancient
abbey the bridals were to take place, he was met by Lord Ed-
ward Bruce, joyous as usual.
" Good even, my gentle bridegroom ; knowest thou I have
been busy in thy service ?"
" Your highness honors me. I pray thee accept my ac-
knowledgments, though I know not wherefore."
" Busy I have been, but not successful, Alan, so keep thy
acknowledgments. Bememberest thou the minstrel of whose
songs I told thee ? behold I have sent far and near for that
mysterious being, whom I begin now to believe with the rustics
224 THE DATS OF BRUCE.
was spirited away from Stirling. He would have verily graced
thy nuptials, and I am furious at the disappointment of ray
scheme. He is not to be found ; reward, proclamation, all
have been made and offered in Tain. There, that mischievous
smile again on thy lip ; by my knightly faith, Alan, I verily be-
lieve thou knowest more about this mysterious marvel of min-
strelsie than thou ehoosest to acknowledge."
" I know enough to pledge thee, my lord, that he shall be
in the abbey church to-morrow, though I cannot promise in a
minstrel's garb."
" How ! is he only thus attired at will how am I to know
him, then ?"
"By the golden brooch your highness so generously be-
stowed. Your lordship may believe my solemn assertion, that
the treasured gift has never for one hour left his possession ;
and he who wears it, however marvellous may seem his trans-
formation, rest assured is the minstrel's self. I have puzzled
thee, my good lord ; I pray you pardon the solution till to-
morrow."
" I know not that I will, thou arch lover of mystery. Tarry ;
thou shalt explain this ere I let thee go. Isoline shall wait for
thee."
" I cry thee mercy, good my lord," was the laughing reply ;
and the young nobleman extricated his robe from Prince Eld-
ward's grasp, and joyously departed.
A glowing scene of life and splendor, royalty and beauty,
did the old abbey church of Scone present the following morn-
ing. It was nigh noon, and a winter sun played so brightly on
the illumined panes, that they flung down innumerable shades
of gorgeous coloring on the marble pavement as if vying with
the splendid robes and glittering gems with which the olden
shrine was peopled. The good King Robert, and bis meek and
gentle queen, from whose heart even the memories of the past
had vanished before the gladsomeness of the present, sur-
rounded by a host of Scotland's noblest peers and matrons, of
names too numerous for mention, but including all whom, in
their country's service, we have met so oft before, and all at-
tired with a richness well suited to their rank and the ceremony
they stood there to witness ; and the group around the altar,
how may the chronicler's dull pen do justice unto them?
Both lovely brides were dear to Scotland, the one for herself
)3i K:: , Google
THE DATS OF BBUCE. 225
alone, for not a toil, a danger, a triumph was recalled in which
the Lady Isoline had not borne a conspicuous part softening
the first, sharing the second, shedding new glory over the last,
binding herself to every warrior and matron heart as part of
Scotland ; and the other, too, was. dear, for they saw but the
Bruce in his beauteous child. The princess, blushing and
paling, smiling and tearful, alternately, gleamed like some love-
ly flower, drooping its head from the ardent gaze, seeking to
hide the glory of its own soft beauty. The Lady Isoline, lofty,
majestic as her wont, perchance a degree more pale, but per-
mitting no emotion to vary her pure cheek her mouth, her
full dark eye, her glorious brow, all breathing a tale of soul, so
thrillingly and forcibly, she needed neither tears nor smiles, and
might be likened to a radiant star alone in the purple heavens,
speaking of more than the beauty it reveals, and chaining our
gaze as oar hearts 'neath the voiceless magic of its charm, seem-
ing lovelier and more lovely the longer that we gaze. And
the respective bridegrooms might have been guessed, had they
been placed other than they were. The young Fitz-Alan,
flushed with high excitement, buoyancy and joyance so strug-
gling for dominion that he could with difficulty effect control
eye, thought, heart, seeing, feeling naught but her thus soon
to be his own, as one in a delicious dream, whose bliss was as
yet too deep, too sparkling for reality. Not so Sir Alan for
we must still call him so; calm, collected, every feature
breathing the deep, unshadowed fulness of bliss within, but
bliss chastened, heightened by previous trial, he seemed well
suited to take the vows of love, protection, faithfulness to that
glorious one who knelt beside him, and whose eye, when it did
not rest on him, so softly and sweetly acknowledged that for
him even love of power was subdued, that she could bow her
soul to his. But their thoughts, even in that solemn hour,
were not alone on themselves; they thought on Him to whom
that joy was owing, and deep, unutterable gratitude to him
swelled either heart.
The Countess of Buchan, with the parents of Isoline, stood
on the left side of the high altar ; the king and queen on the
right, where the Princess Marjory knelt. Fifty lovely maidens
and as many high-born youths, scions of Scotland's nobles and
knights, ranged alternately, the former bearing wreaths of myr-
tle and other exotic plants, formed an inner circle two deep,
10*
226 THE DATS 07 BEUOE.
directly around the bridal group ; the remainder of tbe choir
and aisles crowded with the noble spectators. The aged Abbot
of Scone, released from his weary captivity by exchange of
prisoners, officiated at the altar, seconded by the monks of the
abbey; the olden organ and its choir, concealed by a rich dra-
pery of velvet and gold, rose behind them, and silence had fall-
en on that noble multitude, prefacing the burst of choral har-
mony with which the rites were to begin.
It was at that moment a hurried but military step was heard
advancing up the nave and through the choir ; it reached a va-
cant place between the Countess of Bnchan and Prince Edward.
Alan and Isoline looked up in inquiring wonder, little dreaming
on what noble form their gaze would fall, for tbe kindly policy
of the king had found some distant mission on which to employ
the Douglas, till that eventful day had passed : yet there he
stood, and there was no sign either of haste or negligence in his
almost sumptuous apparel, naught which might betray the
mental struggle which men gazed on bun but to trace. He
stood looking yet nobler, more gloriously majestic than e'en on
the battle-field, when hundreds fled before his victorious brand,
and Scotland hailed him patriot and deliverer. His eye was
as bright, his lip as red as was their wont, and who, as they
marked the glance of deep yet unim passioned interest which
rested on the bridal pair, might guess what had been the strug-
gle of his soul ?
The impressive service commenced, and not a sound was
heard in that vast and crowded edifice, but the abbot's voice in
all the eloquence of prayer. The responses of the princess
were scarcely audible, but those of Isoline fell in thrilling rich-
ness on every ear and every heart.
Interested as was the countess in the solemn rites, her eye
moved not from the face of him to whose exalted virtue her son
owed his present bliss. There was no change, no shade in that
face, whose deep repose might be likened unto marble ; but as
the words, "Those whom (Jod hath joined, let no man put
asunder," thrilled along the incensed air, the Up suddenly be-
came compressed, the Brow contracted, lasting but a brief mo-
ment; but as the lightning flash discloses the wreck its bolt
hath made, so did that momentary change reveal the wreck of
happiness within.
But there came no further change in mien or feature ; even
THE DATS OF BETJOE. 227
when the voice of prayer had ceased, when naught but joyous
gratulation sparkled round, when breaking from their thronging
friends, e'en from the congratulations of the king, ere they
sought the blessing and embrace of the Countess of Buchan,
Isohne and Alan, with deep emotion, in brief but heartfelt
words besought the Douglas to accept their gratitude, then-
lore, and let them feel and reverence, and call him brother,
from whom alone of earth their bliss had sprung.
" In your bliss I have made mine own," he cried ; " let Doug-
las claim a brother's privilege, and be the first to give thee joy,
to wish thee all of bliss that love and truth may give."
He held their united hands in his, pressed them kindly, and
turned to greet the princess and her Husband with such smiles
and courteous jest as the hour might call.
"Art thou not the very king of mysteries, thou naughty
rebel?" was the salutation of Prince Edward after warmly
saluting his favorite niece. " How darest thou tell me he who
wore my golden brooch was the minstrel I sought ? Tell me,
an thou wdt not dare my wrath e'en on thy wedding day, how
earnest thou to possess it ? where is the prince of soft lays to
whom I gave it?"
" So, please your highness, I can say no more than I have
said. The prince of soft lays, as thou art pleased to call him,
is before you, ready and willing to don the minstrel's garb
wherever and whenever thou may est command it."
" Thou that king of minstrels, Alan ? this passes credence ;
why he had auburn locks soft and flowing as a maiden's, and a
voice melodious and thrilling as, as "
" That of my husband," archly answered Isoline ; " try him,
uncle mine, and trust me for the soft auburn locks so easily as-
sumed, particularly as the face they shaded had been hid from
all before."
" But wherefore, why so madly thrust himself on a pike's
head, by tempting discovery in Stirling Castle ? Verily, friend
Alan, if they dub me a mad knight-errant, what art thou ?
what, in the name of all that's marvellous, took thee there !"
" His mother," interposed the countess, ere Alan could re-
ply.- " Your highness was informed the prisoner he sought lay
within those beleaguered walls. How think you this discovery
bad been made ?"
" Not by such madness, lady, trust me ; truly I can scarce
228 THE DAYS OF BEUCE.
credit it now. Don thj minstrel robe and viol, and I may be-
lieve thee."
"And so he shall, good brother, in a more fitting season,"
answered King Robert; " but. for the present day he must fill
a somewhat higher station. My lords and gentles, we crave
your noble company in our royal nails. The church hath done
her duty, now then let the palace."
Contrary winds and heavy storms had detained the Countess
of Bnchan some weeks longer than she desired in Scotland,
but at length wind and time appeared more favorable, and the
vessels prepared for her escort lay manned and ready along the
coast of Fife, waiting her commands. Early in February those
commands were given, and active preparations in the Castle of
Fife announced her rapidly-approaching departure. The morn-
ing dawned heavily and stormily, but she needed not the ele-
ments; her mind, fixed on a self-imposed duty, longed but to
obey its dictates, and feel that between herself and her husband
all was at length perfect reconciliation and peace. Hor bad
Isoline and her husband wavered in their determination ; and
now, surrounded by her retainers and by many other noble
friends, who had assembled to attend her with all the honor,
the respect she so well deserved, Isabella of Buchan stood
upon the beach. The boat had been dispatched from the
principal galley, it neared the shore, it stranded, and with a
kindly gesture of farewell the countess, leaning on the arm
of her son, placed her foot upon the plank. At that moment
there was some movement increasing to confusion amongst the
crowd ; and Malcolm, springing to his master's side, besought
him to wait one moment, as he had discerned a horseman riding
such full speed towards them, that their detention for a brief
while was evidently sought. Almost ere the words bad passed
his lips a very aged man had rushed through the crowd, had
hurried down the beach, flinging himself at the feet of the
countess, and grasping her robe as to detain her, ere breath re-
turned for speech.
The words "Cornac," "my father," burst simultaneously
from the lips of the countess and her son J and Isabella, bend-
ing kindly over him, bade him rise and rest, she would wait to
speak with him till he could tell her all he needed.
" That I can now, most noble lady," he answered, rising and
standing before her. " My task is soon accomplished. I fear-
ed but that I bad arrived too late, and thy pilgrimage of mercy
had already commenced. Goest thou not to Norway ?"
" Aye, to my husband ; come ye from him ?"
""Lady, yes ; bearing that charity and reconciliation ye go to
give. Remand thy Teasels, lady, for them thou hast no need."
" Nay, my faithful follower, thy mission bears not on my
purpose ; wherefore should I not proceed ?"
" Lady, he whom ye seek, the injurer and the penitent, thy
noble, thy generous kindness can no longer avail ; he hath gone
where man may not reach him where earth may not bless.
John Comyn, Earl of Buchan, sinning but repentant, cruel but
atoning, lies with the dead."