The Hammer of the Scots (53 page)

But he would not despair.

One day, he promised himself, he would conquer Edward.

In the meantime there was nothing to do but wait and plan with his good friends. They would talk together of gathering an army again, of marching against Edward. They would learn the lessons of defeat for there were more to be discovered in them than in victory.

Sometimes he was impatient. Then Karlé would soothe him. Karlé, Stephen! What good friends they were and always had been!

But he was in hiding. He hated having to skulk into Glasgow at night; he wanted to disguise himself and go by day. But it was dangerous. He went at night to the house of a woman. She was pretty enough and generous, and although she did not know him as Wallace sometimes he thought she suspected him of being that great warrior.

One night, as he lay with his friends round the fire they had lighted in the hut, they talked of what one of them had heard that day in Glasgow – that Edward was at St Andrews and many of the Scottish lords were swearing fealty to him. That made Wallace furious. That Scotsmen should so far forget their country as to bow to Edward!

And as they sat there one of the guards came in with a small draggled figure wrapped in a ragged cloak.

‘I found him prowling nearby,’ said the guard. ‘So I brought him to you for he said he knew you and wanted to offer himself.’

‘You know me, man?’ said Wallace. ‘Come near the fire and let me look at you. By what name are you known?’

‘As Jack Short,’ said the man. ‘I knew you once, Sir William.’

Wallace said, ‘I remember. I never saw men so short as you … and was there not a brother?’

‘Ay, a brother. You killed him, sir.’

‘I killed him? Then he was an enemy of Scotland.’

‘Not so, Sir William. He was a fool of a man, my brother. He wanted to fight for Scotland though. He was there at one of the forays and lost his way in the battle. You believed him to be on their side. ’Twas not so, I swear.’

‘Why do you come here?’

‘I have searched for you, far and wide. I wanted to tell you that my brother was no traitor. I want to make you understand that, sir.’

‘I killed your brother. Then if he was no traitor you must hate me for that.’

‘No, sir. He was soft in the head, my brother. You would never have killed him … if you had known. He wanted to serve Scotland and he did … but his brain was addled and he did not know which way to turn. He wouldn’t be sure who was the enemy. So I come to tell you he was no traitor and to serve you with my life.’

William said, ‘Do you fancy yourself as a fighter then?’

‘Nay. I am short as my brother but my brain is not addled as his, poor boy, was. I cannot fight … though I might be of some use on a battlefield. But I can fish and cook over a fire and help a gentleman to dress.’

‘We all look after ourselves here, Jack Short.’

‘But ’twill be easier for you to give your mind to greater matters, sir, if I do things for you. I was fishing this afternoon and I have good fish with me. Let me cook it for you and you shall taste my skills.’

William was amused. ‘Why not? We should like a tasty meal, eh Karlé?’

Karlé was thoughtful. He was too apprehensive about everything, thought William. He looked for danger in every pool and tree.

‘Come! The fish, Jack Short, and you shall stay with me and be my servant. How like you that?’

Jack Short knelt and kissed William’s hand.

He was good. There was no question of that. Life was easier with him. He had a talent for catching and cooking fish. He would go into the town and come with provisions they needed.

‘It saves our taking risks,’ even Karlé admitted.

One day Jack Short said to William, ‘My lord, you should never go into Glasgow. Your leman should come to you.’

He knew of course why William made his nocturnal visits. Jack Short could be trusted to know everything.

‘What,’ cried William, ‘would you have us all betrayed?’

‘God forbid that that should ever come to pass. I would but make it easier for my lord.’

‘You do make life easier for me, Jack,’ said William. ‘I am sorry for what I did to your brother.’

‘’Twas his fault. No … not his fault … his folly. Forget it, my lord. For I have found joy in serving you.’

Jack would lie at his master’s feet and talk about what news he picked up in Glasgow. He told of the women he saw there. ‘There is one,’ he said, ‘fair of hair and rosy of cheek with sparkling blue eyes and a ready tongue. I noted her specially.’

He watched his master. He knew by Sir William’s smile that she was the one. He had discovered where she lived. If he could but follow Wallace there one night that would be good but he had to take care, for Karlé was a most suspicious man.

What he had to find out now was when Wallace was visiting the woman and he did not always say. Jack Short asked his questions slyly, obliquely. But he had to find the exact time. There must be no mistake. If anything went wrong and he was betrayed as the spy he was, Menteith would kill him, even if Wallace’s men did not, and he would never enjoy that reward which had been promised him.

He went fishing and was late coming in with the catch. The fire was slow in burning.

‘Hurry, man,’ said Wallace, ‘I am going to the town this night.’

Jack’s heart beat fast. Serve them with fish … then take one of the horses and gallop into town. He knew what he had to do. Menteith and his men had been waiting in the town ready for the day.

He slipped away, leading the horse at first lest they should hear him.

In the town Menteith was glad to see him.

‘Tonight,’ cried Jack Short. ‘He is coming tonight.’

Menteith said: ‘To the woman’s? We will take him as he comes in.’

Karlé had a sixth sense where his master was concerned.

‘I like not these trips into the town,’ he said.

‘I like them,’ answered William.

‘Can you not do without women?’

‘No, Karlé. They revive me. They lighten this dreary exile.’

‘They have been your downfall before.’

‘Never. I escaped narrowly from Ellen’s house I know. And Marion … It was because of her that we took Lanark, remember.’

‘Have a care.’

‘It is safe enough.’

‘Don’t go tonight.’

‘I must. I have said I will. She will be waiting.’

‘Perhaps she can find another friend.’

‘Tonight is my night. She is faithful to me when I am there.’

Karlé laughed and said, ‘Then I shall come with you.’

This was not unusual. Often when he visited the woman Karlé would come. He would sit below and talk to the servant, and usually drink some of her home-brewed ale and perhaps eat a piece of bread and bacon.

So they rode towards the town, leaving their horses tethered in the woods. Quietly and swiftly they went to the woman’s house.

The door was open but they did not see anything strange in this. William presumed that expecting him she had left it ajar.

He pushed it open. They were surrounded. Karlé reached for his dagger but he was too late. He fell bleeding to the floor. Wallace was seized. They did not want to kill him.

Edward wanted him alive.

It was the complete humiliation to ride in the midst of Menteith’s men, his hands shackled – a prisoner.

Jack Short had betrayed them. He had been deceived by that simple ruse. He had always been careless. But the biggest traitor of all was Menteith. He should not rave against Jack Short who was of little account. Menteith was the criminal. He had betrayed Scotland. That was what was important. And Karlé – beloved Karlé – had died because he had insisted on coming with him.

He himself was the prisoner of mighty Edward, who would never let him go.

He fears me, thought Wallace exultantly. He fears me as he fears no other. He knows that he can never be safe in Scotland while I live.

So they brought him to London and he was lodged in a house in Fenchurch Street.

They did not leave him there long and soon there came the day when he was taken to Westminster Hall to answer the charges brought against him.

His trial was brief. He was judged a traitor to King Edward.

‘I have never been that,’ he said, ‘for I have never acknowledged him as my lord.’

He made a brave show. His strength, his vitality, his aura of greatness must impress all who saw him. But he was Edward’s prisoner and Edward was determined that he should never again raise an army against him.

There came the day of his sentence. His crimes were enumerated. Sedition, homicide, depredations, fires and felonies. He had attacked the King’s officers and slain Sir William Heselrig, Sheriff of Lanark. He had invaded the King’s territories of Cumberland and Westmorland.

‘Your sentence is that you shall be carried from Westminster to the Tower and from the Tower to Aldgate and so through the City to the Elms at Smithfield, and for your homicides and felonies in England and Scotland you shall be hanged and drawn and as an outlaw beheaded, and afterwards your heart, liver and lungs shall be burned and your head placed on London Bridge in sight of land and water travellers, and your quarters hung on gibbets at Newcastle, Berwick, Stirling and Perth to the terror of all those who pass by.’

William listened almost impassively. It was the death accorded traitors to the King and the King would say, ‘This man was to me one of the greatest traitors who ever lived.’

Edward would say he was just and in his own lights doubtless he was.

On the twenty-third day of August the barbarous sentence was carried out with revolting cruelty. Many gathered at the Elms in Smithfield to see it.

No cry escaped from William Wallace. He knew he was not defeated. He knew his fame would live on after him and be an inspiration to all those who cared for the freedom of Scotland.

  Chapter XIV