Scotland -- History -- War of Independence, 1285-1371 -- Fiction
It was dusk when the little army arrived in the rear of a close thicket
to a considerable length over the plain. On this spot Wallace rested
his men; and while they placed themselves under its covert till the
appointed time of attack, he perceived through an opening in the wood,
the gleaming of soldiers' arms on the ramparts, and fires beginning to
light on a lonely watchtower, which crowned the pinnacle of the highest
rock.
"Poor fools!" exclaimed Murray; "like the rest of their brethren of
clay, they look abroad for evils, and prepare not for those which are
even at their doors!"
"That beacon-fire," cried Scrymgeour, "shall light us to their
chambers; and for once we thank them for their providence."
"That beacon-fire," whispered Edwin to Wallace, "shall light me to
honor! To-night, by your agreement, I shall call you brother, or lie
dead on the summit of those walls!"
"Edwin," said Wallace, "act as you say; and deserve not only to be
called my brother, but to be the first banneret of freedom in arms!"
He then turned toward the lines; and, giving his orders to each
division, directed them to seek repose on the surrounding heather, till
the now glowing moon should have sunk her telltale light in the waves.
Chapter XXII.
Dumbarton Rock.
All obeyed the voice of their commander, and retired to rest. But the
eyes of Edwin could not close; his eager spirit was already on the
walls of Dumbarton. His rapid mind anticipated the ascent of his
general and his troop. But an imagination no less just than ardent
suggested the difficulties attending so small a force assailing so
formidable a garrison, without some immediate knowledge of its relative
situations. A sudden thought struck him. He would mount that rock
alone; he would seek to ascertain the place of Lord Mar's confinement;
that not one life in Wallace's faithful band might be lost in a vague
search.
"Ah! my general," exclaimed he, "Edwin shall be the first to spring
those ramparts; he shall tread that dangerous path alone; and when he
has thus proved himself no unworthy of thy confidence, he will return
to lead thee and thy soldiers to a sure victory, and himself to honor
by thy side!"
This fervant apostrophe, breathed to the night alone, was no sooner
uttered, than he stole from the thicket into which he had cast himself
to respose. He looked toward the embattled cliff; its summit stood
bright in the moonlight, but deep shadows lay beneath. "God be my
speed!" cried he, and wrapping himself in his plaid, so mixed its dark
hues with the weeds and herbage at the base of the rock, that he made
its circuit without having attracted observation.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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