Scotland -- History -- War of Independence, 1285-1371 -- Fiction
"Traitor!" cried the English commander, while with a sudden and
dreadful stroke of his battle-ax he laid the body of the generous Scot
a headless corpse at his feet. A direful cry proceeded from his
enraged comrades. Every sword was drawn; and before the bewildered and
soul-struck earl could utter a word, the Furies blew their most
horrible blast through the chamber; and the half-frantic Mar beheld his
brave Scots at one moment victorious, and in the next the floor strewed
with their dead bodies. A new succession of blood-hounds had rushed in
at every door; and before the exterminating sword was allowed to rest,
the whole of his faithful troops lay around him, wounded and dying.
Several had fallen across his body, having warded with their lives the
strokes they believed leveled at his. In vain his voice had called
upon his men to surrender--in vain he had implored the iron-hearted
Soulis, and his coadjutor Aymer de Valence, to stop the havoc of death.
All now lay in blood; and the heat of the room, thronged by the
victors, became so intolerable that De Valence, for his own sake,
ordered the earl to be removed into another apartment.
Meanwhile, unconscious of these events, Helen had lain down on her bed,
to seek a few minutes' repose; and having watched the whole of the
preceding night, was sunk into a profound sleep.
Murray, who was present at the abrupt entrance of the enemy, no sooner
heard them declare that the castle was surrounded by a comparatively
large army, than he foresaw all would be lost. On the instant, and
before the dreadful signal of carnage was given in the fall of the
young Scot, he slid behind the canopy of his uncle's couch; and lifting
the arras by a back door which led to some private rooms, hastily made
way to the chamber of his cousin. As he hurried along, he heard a
fearful shout. He paused for a moment, but thinking it best, whatever
might have happened, to secure the safety of Helen, he flew onward, and
entered her room. She lay upon the bed in a deep sleep. "Awake,
Helen!" he cried; "for your life, awake!"
She opened her eyes; but, without allowing her time to speak, he
hastily added; "The castle is full of armed men, led hither by the
English commander, Aymer de Valence, and the execrable Soulis. Unless
you fly through the vaulted passage, you will be their prisoner."
Helen gazed at him in terror. "Where is my father? Leave him I
cannot."
"Fly, in pity to your father! Oh, do not hesitate! What will be his
anguish, should you fall into the hands of the furious man whose love
you have rejected; when it will no longer be in the power of a parent
to preserve your person from the outrages of his eager and avengeful
passion! If you had seen Soulis' threatening eyes--" He was
interrupted by a clamor in the opposite gallery, and the shrieks of
women. Helen grasped his arm. "Alas, my poor damsels! I will go with
you, whither you will, to be far from him."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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