The Hammer of the Scots (43 page)

This proved to be a fatal decision. His uncle received him with warmth, and he was soon installed in the school where he worked hard hoping to complete his education as soon as was possible so that he might devote himself to his destiny. He longed to join his father but he knew he should not go out and look for him, but stay where he could easily go to the aid of his mother if she should need him.

He was soon very popular in his uncle’s house, particularly with the housekeeper who irritated him mildly at times with her constant attentions, for she would insist that he did not go out into the cold winds without his warm jacket and that he eat every scrap of his porridge. He teased her and she enjoyed his teasing and she was clearly delighted to have a young man in the house.

The castle of Dundee was in the hands of Governor Selby, one of the worst of Edward’s deputies, and this man was very unpopular in the town. His punishments for insubordination were exceptionally harsh and being an arrogant man he insisted on the utmost respect from the Scottish inhabitants. When William strolled through the streets of the town he burned with fury. He would sit in the taverns and listen to the tales of injustice and he was ripe for trouble.

It so happened that one day he attired himself in his best cloak and tunic of green, the fashionable colour, and setting his dagger and sword in his belt went out to meet his friends in one of the taverns.

In the narrow street he saw a young man coming towards him accompanied by two friends, and it was clear at once that the young man was someone of importance by the sycophantic manner of his attendants. William did not need to be told who he was. He had seen him before, riding with his father, Governor Selby.

The young man expected William to doff his hat and bow low. Instead of which William barred his way and showed clearly that he had no intention even of stepping aside to allow him to pass.

Young Selby looked William up and down with an insolence which set William’s Scottish heart beating with rage and excitement. At last he was face to face with one of the enemy.

‘And who is this?’ asked Selby, turning to one of his friends. ‘He is uncouth enough to be a Scot.’

‘And you are arrogant enough to be English,’ retorted William hotly.

‘You heard him,’ cried young Selby. ‘He insulted our King.’

‘What, that tyrant!’ cried William, his blood up, so that he was in his most reckless mood.

‘By God’s body,’ cried young Selby. ‘You heard him. He speaks thus of great Edward!’

‘I would I could do more than
speak
against him.’

‘Methinks we must teach the Scot a lesson,’ drawled Selby. ‘When he is hanging by his neck from the gallows he will not be so bold nor look so pretty in his good green clothes.’

Selby had his hand on his dagger, but William was before him. He seized Selby by the neck, shook him and then plucking his dagger from its sheath he thrust it into the young man’s breast, withdrew it, and threw the young man to the ground. It was clear from one look at the Governor’s son stretched out on the cobbles that he was dead.

William had killed his first Englishman and it had all happened in a few seconds. For a moment Selby’s attendants were stunned, but not for long. William, however, was quicker to act than they were. The son of the Governor killed by his hand! This would be certain death for him – probably torture. If he were caught now he would never live to save Scotland. He turned and mustering all his strength fled from the scene.

He had run back to his uncle’s house before he realised the folly of this. He was known. He had been seen. It was the first place they would come to look for him.

He must go. But where?

His uncle’s housekeeper seated at her spinning wheel stared at him in horror for his green tunic was spattered with blood.

‘I cannot stay,’ panted William. ‘They will be after me. This is the first place they will come to. I have to get away … quickly.’

‘You have killed someone!’

‘The Governor’s son.’

‘May God preserve us. You were seen?’

He nodded. ‘Farewell, Goody. I dare not stay.’

‘Wait! I have a plan.’

‘They are already on their way here,’ he said.

‘You would meet them if you tried to leave. One moment. Here.’ She had stripped off her dress. ‘Put that on …’

He protested but she cried angrily, ‘Do as I say. It is your only chance.’

He saw the reason of that and obeyed. The dress was far too small.

‘Wait,’ she said and ran from the room. A few minutes later, having put on a gown, she returned with a shawl and a cap similar to the one she always wore.

‘Put these on,’ she commanded. ‘The shawl will hide the ill fit of the dress and the cap will make a woman of you. Then sit at the wheel and spin.’

He saw the wisdom of her reasoning and obeyed. He was just in time for as he turned to the wheel Selby’s men burst into the house.

‘Where is he?’ demanded the leader of the men. ‘Where is young Wallace?’

‘Young William …’ said the housekeeper. ‘How should I know? In the town most likely. That’s where the lazy young lad spends most of his time. ’Tis lassies and taverns for him and ’tis there you’ll find him.’

The men looked round the room and scarcely gave a glance to the one they thought was the servant at the spinning wheel.

‘He may well be hiding here,’ said one of them. ‘Search the place.’

They went over the house. They looked in every room, and all the time William went on spinning.

When they came down they said to the housekeeper: ‘If he comes send to us at once. He’s a wanted man.’

‘I will, my lords, I will. Oh sir … my lords, what has he done then?’

‘Murder, Goody. That’s what he has done. And he’ll hang for this. But not before we make him suffer. The Governor’s son …’

‘Oh, no, my lord … oh
no
…’ The housekeeper had flung her apron over her face and was rocking to and fro.

‘Cut down in his youth. By God, blood will flow for this. Wait till the Governor recovers from his grief.’

‘’Twas murder … ’twas murder … the wicked young man,’ sobbed the housekeeper.

‘Aye, ’twas murder. Remember. If that murderer comes here … which it seems he will at some time. Keep him … come to us and let us know. You’ll be rewarded, good woman. And you will see justice done.’

‘How could he? I always knew he was wild. I knew he’d come to no good.’

The men went out. She went over to the spinning wheel.

‘Go on. Don’t stop. Go on for a while. Till I know it will be safe.’

William obeyed her, exulting in the manner in which they had deceived the English.

She sat beside him. ‘We must bide our time. Meanwhile prepare yourself to leave. Where will you go?’

‘I must go to my mother in Kilspindie. I must assure myself that she is safe.’

‘You will have to be careful. When you reach her you will not stay there. It would be as well if you took her away. Oh, my laddie, what have you done? Why did you have to kill the Englishman?’

‘My task in life is to kill Englishmen and to drive them out of our fair land.’

She shook her head. ‘I would that we could live in peace.’

‘You talk like my mother.’

‘Aye, laddie, ’tis women’s talk. We see no good in dying but there’s much good in living.’

‘To be humiliated … to be insulted …’

‘Hush. We should be thinking of getting ye away. You must wait till nightfall. Then you must slip out. We will go to the stables where your horse will be ready. Until that time you are my servant Tabbie …’

‘And my uncle!’

‘I will tell him what you have brought on yourself. He’d never betray you. For what has happened, should we be caught, I’ll take the blame.’

‘You are good to me. You risk your life for me, you know.’

‘Do ye think I would side with the English?’

‘Never. But to risk yourself …’

‘Tish!’ she snapped. He stood up from the wheel and kissed her.

Riding through the night to Kilspindie he was thinking of what lay ahead. He had at last entered the battle. He would be a wanted man. The murder of a governor’s son would be regarded as treachery to the King of England. John Baliol, King of Scotland, would be no help to him. He was Edward’s man. What Scotland needed was a king worth fighting for. But Edward had allowed them to put old Toom Tabard on the throne because he knew he was a weak man and that suited wily Edward, for who was the real ruler of Scotland? Edward. Edward was the enemy.

William’s coming was received with some dismay at Kilspindie, for when it was learned that he had killed Governor Selby’s son, his mother’s relations were horrified and feared that his recklessness would bring trouble to them all. He could not stay at Kilspindie, they said. That much was clear for the hue and cry would soon follow them there.

There was an immediate gathering of the family to discuss what could be done and William realised that in coming here he had placed his mother and all of them in danger.

‘You must go at once,’ said his relations, and they added: ‘It would be unwise to leave your mother behind.’

After some discussion it seemed that it might be safe to leave John at his school, but certainly Lady Wallace must go with her son. And immediately at that, because it could not be long before their searchers came to Kilspindie, for they would guess he would come to his family.

‘Let there be no delay,’ said their host, whose great concern seemed to be to get them out of his house and with all speed. It was agreed that they should disguise themselves as pilgrims on the way to the shrine of St Margaret; and having no desire to stay any longer than they need, where their presence inspired such fear, they set out immediately.

Their disguise was good and they were accepted in the hamlets and villages through which they passed for what they pretended to be and in due course they reached Dunipace.

William’s uncle was amazed to see them. He shook his head. He had known William’s hot blood and violent hatred of the English would bring trouble to him and his family. However, they must rest and be fed and discuss with him what their next action should be.

When they had eaten he took them to that study where William had worked and dreamed in the past, and there he bade them sit down.

‘I have ill news for you,’ he said gravely, ‘which I did not want to tell you until you had eaten and rested a little. I fear it will be a great shock to you.’

‘Pray do not keep us longer in suspense, Uncle,’ begged William, and he went to his mother and took her hand because he guessed that the grave news concerned his father.

‘Your father engaged the English at Elderslie,’ said his uncle. ‘It was a foolhardy thing to do. He and his retainers were outnumbered.’

‘They have taken him,’ cried Lady Wallace in horror.

‘Nay. He died in battle and with him … Malcolm.’

Lady Wallace stared straight ahead of her. William put an arm about her and drew her to him.

‘The devils!’ he cried. ‘So they have killed my father and my brother!’

‘Your father and Malcolm took some of them too, nephew. They inflicted losses on the English in losing their lives.’

‘Gone,’ whispered Lady Wallace. ‘My husband …
and
my son …’

‘By God,’ cried William. ‘They shall pay for this. I will not rest till I have slain twenty English in repayment for those two lives.’

‘Nothing can repay,’ said his uncle. ‘It is a pity your father engaged in such a battle. He was certain to lose.’

‘I am proud of him,’ cried William. ‘I shall avenge him and my brother.’

‘You must first concern yourself with saving your own life. You are a wanted man … and you are Sir William now. You must care for your mother and brother.’

William faltered as the implication of what this meant came to him. His father … his brother … dead in one day. And he the head of the family. He looked at his mother. She seemed frail in her misery.

‘Mother,’ he said, ‘I must get you to some place of safety. You have done nothing.’

His uncle said, ‘Do that as soon as you can. Take her to her brother, Ronald Crawford. He is a friend of the Governor of Ayr and I doubt not can persuade him that your mother is innocent of what they would call treason. But he cannot save you, William. Nothing can save you. You are a wanted man.’

‘I know it well,’ said William.

‘Then take your mother from here. Make sure of her safety and then … take heed for yourself.’

It was sound advice. They left Dunipace that night and in due course they arrived at Lady Wallace’s brother’s home in Crosbie. When he heard the story he said his sister must stay under his protection, but there was nothing he could do to save William. So William, feeling his mother was in good hands, rode on. But he did not go far, for he wanted to be close to his mother in case she should need his help, and he came to rest at Auchincruive on the banks of the Ayr, about two miles from the town of that name. Here lived some distant relations and he thought to himself how fortunate he was to have so many family connections who could be relied on to give him a helping hand when he needed it. The owner of the place was Sir Duncan Wallace and of course he could not deny shelter to a relative.