GUIDED by Ker, Murray led
his followers over the Lanark hills, by the most untrodden paths; and
hence avoided even the sight of a Southron soldier.
Cheered by so favourable a
commencement of their expedition, they even felt no dismay when, at the
gloom of evening, Ker descried a body of armed men at a distance, sitting
round a fire at the foot of a beetling rock which guards the western
entrance to the Cartlane craigs. Murray ordered his men to proceed under
covert of the bushes; and then making the signal (concerted in case of
such dilemma), they struck their iron crows into the interstices of the
cliff; and catching at the branches which grew out of its precipitous
side, with much exertion, but in perfect silence, at last gained the
summit. That effected, they pursued their way with the same caution, till
after a long march, and without encountering a human being, they reached
the base of the huge rock which Wallace had made his fortress.
Ker, who expected to find
it surrounded by an English army, was amazed at the deathlike solitude.
"The place is deserted," cried he. "My brave friend,
compelled by the extremity of his little garrison, has been obliged to
"We will ascend and
see," was Murray’s answer.
Ker led round the rock to
the most accessible point; and mounting by the projecting stones, with some
difficulty gained the top. Silence pervaded every part; and the rugged
cavities at the summit, which had formed the temporary quarters of his
comrades, were lonely. On entering the recess, where Wallace used to seek
a few minutes’ slumber, the moon, which shone full into the cave,
discovered something bright lying in a distant corner. Ker hastily
approached it; recollecting what Wallace had told him, that if during his
absence he could find means of escape, he would leave some weapon as a
sign: a dagger, if necessity drove him to the south point, where he must
fight his way through the valley; and an arrow, if he could effect it
without observation, by the north, as he should then seek an asylum for
his exhausted followers in the far-off wilds of Glenfinlass.
It was the iron head of an arrow,
which the moon had silvered; and Ker catching it up with a gladdened
countenance exclaimed, "He is safe! this calls us to Glenfinlass."
He then explained to Murray what had been the arrangement of Wallace
respecting this sign, and without hesitation the young Lord decided to
follow him up that track.
Turning towards the
northern part of the cliff, they came
to a spot beneath which had been the strongest guard of the enemy, but
now, like the rest, it was entirely abandoned. A narrow winding path led
from this rocky platform, to a fall of water, roaring and rushing by the
mouth of a large cavern. After they had descended the main craig, they
clambered over the top of this cave; and entering upon another sweep of
rugged hills, commenced a rapid march.
Traversing the lower part
of Stirlingshire, they crossed Graham’s Dyke [The
great wall of Severus, which runs between Abercorn and Kirkpatrick, being
attacked by the Scots at the time the Romans abandoned Britain, a huge
breach was made in it by Graham (or Greame) the uncle of the young King of
Scots. By this achievement he conquered the whole of the country as far as
the Cheviots; and the wall of Severus has since been called Graham’s
Dyke.— (1809)] and pursuing their
course westward, left Stirling castle far to the right. They ascended the
Ochil hills; and proceeding along the wooded heights which overhang the
banks of Teith, forded that river, and entered at once into the broad
valley which opened to them a distant view of Ben Lomond and Ben Ledi.
exclaimed Ker, extending his hand towards the cloud-capped Ledi;
"beneath the shadow of that mountain, we shall find the light of
Scotland, our dear master in arms!"
this intimation, the wearied Murrays,—like seamen, long harassed on a
tempestuous ocean, at sight of a port,— uttered a shout of joy; and
hastening forward with renovated strength, met a foaming river in their
path. Despising all obstacles, they rushed in, and, buffeting the waves,
soon found a firm footing on the opposite shore. The sun shone cheerily
above their heads; illuminating the umbrageous sides of the mountains with
a dewy splendour, while Ben Ledi, the standard of their hope, seemed
to wave them on, as the white clouds streamed from its summit; or, rolling
down its dark sides, floated in strange visionary shapes over the lakes
When the little troop halted on the shore of Loch
Venachoir, the mists which had lingered on the brow of Ledi, slowly
ascended into the valley; and covering the mouth of the pass that led from
the loch, seemed to shut them at once between the mountain, and that world
of waters. Ker, who had never been in these tracks before, wondered at
their sublimity; and became alarmed, lest they should lose their way amid
such infinite windings. But Murray, who remembered having once explored
them with his father, led promptly forward, by a steep rough road in the
side of the mountain. As they clung by the slippery rocks which overhung
the lake, its mists dissolved into a heavy shower; and, by degrees
clearing away, discovered the shining heads of Ben Lomond and Ben Chochan.
The party soon entered a precipitous
labyrinth of craigs; and, passing onward, gradually descended amid pouring
torrents, and gaping chasms overlaced with branching trees, till the
augmented roar of waters intimated to Murray, they drew near the great
fall of Glenfinlass. The river, though rushing on its course with the
noise of thunder, was scarcely discerned through the thick forest which groaned
over its waves. Here towered a host of stately pines; and there, the lofty
beeches, birches, and mountain oak, bending over the flood, interwove
their giant arms; forming an arch so impenetrable, that while the sun
brightened the tops of the mountains, all beneath lay in deepest midnight.
The awful entrance to this sublime valley,
struck the whole party with a feeling that made them pause. It seemed as
if to these sacred solitudes, hidden in the very bosom of Scotland, no
hostile foot dared intrude. Murray looked at Ker : "We go, my friend,
to arouse the genius of
our country ! Here are the native fastnesses of Scotland; and from this
pass, the spirit will issue, that is to bid her enslaved sons and
daughters be free."
They entered: and with
beating hearts pursued their way along the western border of Loch Lubnaig,
till the royal heights of Craignacoheilg showed their summits, covered
with heath and many an ivied turret. The forest, stretching far over the
valley, lost its high trees in the shadows of the surrounding mountains,
and told them they were now in the centre of Glenfinlass.
Ker put his bugle to his
lips, and sounded the pibroch of Ellerslie. A thousand echoes returned the
notes; and after a pause, which allowed their last response to die away,
the air was answered by a horn from the heights of Craignacoheilg. An
armed man then appeared on the rock, leaning forwards. Ker drew near, and
taking off his bonnet, called aloud :—" Stephen! it is William Ker
who speaks. I come with the Lord Andrew Murray of Bothwell, to the support
of our commander Sir William Wallace."
At these words, Stephen
placed his bugle to his month, and in a few minutes the rock was covered
with the members of its little garrison. Women and children appeared,
shouting with joy; and the men, descending the side next the glen,
hastened to bid their comrade welcome. One advanced towards Murray, whom
he instantly recognized to be Sir Roger Kirkpatrick of Torthorald. The
chiefs saluted each other; and Lord Andrew pointed to his men: "I
have brought:" said he, "these few brave fellows to the aid of
Sir William Wallace. They should have been more, but for new events of
Southron outrage. Yet I am impatient to lead them to the presence of my
disappointed the eager spirit of the young warrior: "I am sorry,
brave Murray, that you have no better knight to receive you than myself. I
and the gallant chief have not yet met; but I am in arms for him; and the
hour of retribution for all our injuries, I trust, is at hand."
"But where is Sir
William Wallace?" demanded Murray.
"Gone towards the
Forth, to rouse that part of sleeping Scotland. If all he meet have my
spirit, they will not require a second call. Now is the time to aim the
blow; I shall ever give thanks to the accident which brought me the
welcome news, that an arm is raised to strike it home."
As he spoke, he led Murray
to the rampart-like cliffs which crown the summit of Craignacoheilg. In
the midst stood a tower, which had once been a favourite hunting-lodge of
the great King Fergus. There Kirkpatrick joyfully greeted his guest a
second time: "This;" said he, "is the far-famed lodge of
the three kings: here did our lion, Fergus, attended by his royal
allies, Durstus the Pict, and Dionethus the Briton, spread his hoard
during their huntings in Glenfinlass ! [This is the tradition respecting
Craignacoheilg. Glenfinlass was the favourite chase of the Scottish
monarcbs.—(1809.)] And here eight hundred years ago, did the same heroic
prince, form the plans which saved his kingdom from a foreign yoke! On the
same spot, we will lay ours; and in their completion, rescue Scotland from
a tyranny, more intolerable than that which menaced him. Yes, Murray;
there is not a stone in this building that does not call aloud to us, to
draw the sword, and hold it unsheathed till our country be free."
"And by the ghost of
that same Fergus, I swear," exclaimed Murray, "that my honest
claymore shall never shroud its head, while an invader be left alive in
caught him in his arms: "Brave son of the noble Bothwell, thou art
after mine own heart! The blow which the dastard Cressingham durst aim at
a Scottish chief, still smarts upon my cheek; and rivers of his
countrymen’s blood shall wash out the stain. After I had been persuaded
by his serpent eloquence, to swear fealty to Edward on the defeat at
Dunbar, I vainly thought that Scotland had only changed a weak and
unfortunate prince, for a wise and victorious king; but when in the courts
of Stirling, I heard Cressingham propose to the barons north of the dyke,
that they should give their strongest castles into English hands; when I
opposed the measure with all the indignation of a Scot who saw himself
betrayed, he first tried to overturn my arguments; and finding that
impossible; while I repeated them with redoubled force— he struck me
!—Powers of earth and heaven, what was then the tempest of my soul !—I
drew my sword—I would have laid him dead at my feet, had not my
obsequious countrymen held my arm, and dragged me from the apartment.
dishonour by a blow I could not avenge, I fled to my brother-in-law Sir
John Scott, of Loch Dome. With him I buried my injury from the world; but
it lived in my heart ;—it haunted me day and night, calling for revenge.
"In such an hour, how did I
receive the tidings, that Sir William Wallace was in arms against the
tyrant!— It was the voice of retribution, calling me to peace of mind!
Even my bed-ridden kinsman, partook my emotions; and with his zealous
concurrence, I led a band of his hardiest clansmen, to reinforce the brave
men of Lanark on this rock.
"Two days, I have now
been here, awaiting in anxious impatience the arrival of Wallace. Yes! we
will mingle our injured souls together! He has made one offering; I must
make another! We shall set forth to Stirling; and there, in the very heart
of his den, I will sacrifice the tiger Cressingham, to the vengeance of
"But what, my brave
friend," asked Murray, "are the forces you deem sufficient for
so great an enterprise? How many fighting men may be counted of
Wallace’s own company, besides your own?"
" We have here about a
hundred," replied Kirkpatrick, "including yours."
inadequate to storm so formidable a place as Stirling castle!"
returned Murray. "Having, indeed, passed the Rubicon, we must go
forward; but resolution, not rashness, should be the principle of our
actions. And my opinion is, that a few minor advantages obtained, our
countrymen would flock to our standard; the enemy would be intimidated;
and we should carry thousands, instead of hundreds, before the walls of
Stirling. To attempt it now, would invite defeat, and pluck upon us the
ruin of our entire project."
"You are right, young
man," cried Kirkpatrick; " my grey head, rendered impetuous by
insult, did not pause on the blind temerity of my scheme. I would rather
for years watch the opportunity of taking a signal revenge, than not
accomplish it at last. Oh! I would rather waste all my life in these
solitary wilds, and know that at the close of it, I should see the blood
of Cressingbam on these hands, than live a prince and die unrevenged!"
Stephen and Ker now
entered, the latter paid his respects to Sir Roger; and the former
informed Murray, that having disposed his present followers with those who
had arrived before, he was come to lead their lord to some refreshment in
the banqueting-room of the tower. "What?" cried Murray, full of
glad amazement: "is it possible that my cousin’s faithful band, has
reached its destination? None other belonging to Bothwell castle, had any
chance of escaping its gaoler’s hands."
Kirkpatrick interrupted Stephen’s
reply, by saying that while their guests were at the board, he would watch
the arrival of certain expresses from two brave Drummonds, each of whom
were to send him a hundred men: "So my good Lord Andrew;" cried
he, striking him on the shoulder, "shall the snow-launch gather, that
is to fall on Edward to his destruction !"
Murray heartily shared his
zeal: and bidding him a short adieu, followed Stephen and Ker into the
hall. A haunch of venison of Glenfinlass, smoked on the board; and goblets
of wine from the bounteous cellars of Sir John Scott, brightened the hopes
which glowed in every heart.
While the young chieftains
were recruiting their exhausted strength, Stephen sat at the table, to
satisfy the anxiety of Murray to know how the detachment from Bothwell had
come to Craignacoheilg; and by what fortunate occurrence, or signal act of
bravery Wallace, could have escaped with his whole train from the
foe-surrounded Cartlane craigs.
smiled on us !" replied Stephen. "The very evening of the day on
which Ker left us, there was a carousal in the English camp. We heard the
sound of the song and of riot; and of many an insult cast upon our
besieged selves. But about an hour after sunset, the noise sunk by
degrees; a not insufficient hint that the revellers, overcome by excess,
had fallen asleep. At this very time, owing to the heat of the day, so
great a vapour had been exhaled from the lake beneath, that the whole of
the northern side of the fortress cliff was covered with a mist so
exceedingly thick we could not discern each other at a foot’s distance.
‘Now is the moment!’ said our gallant leader; ‘the enemy are
stupified with wine, the rock is clothed in a veil !—it is the shield of
God that is held before us! under its shelter let us pass from their
‘He called us together;
and making the proper dispositions, commanded the children and women, on
their lives, to keep silence. He then led us to the top of the northern
cliff: it overhung an obscure cave, which he knew opened at its extremity.
By the assistance of a rope, held above by several men, our resolute
chief, (twisting it round one arm to steady him, and with the other
catching by the projecting stones of the precipice,) made his way down the
rock, and was the first who descended. He stood at the bottom, enveloped
in the cloud which shrouded the mountain, till all the men of the first
division had cleared the height: he then marshalled them with their pikes
towards the foe, in case of an alarm. But all remained quiet on that spot;
although the sounds of voices, both in song and laughter, intimated that
the utmost precaution was still necessary, as a wakeful and yet revelling
part of the enemy were not far distant.
Wallace re-ascended the
rock half-way; and receiving the children, which their trembling mothers
lowered into his arms; he handed them to the old men; who carried them
safely through the bushes which obscured the cave’s mouth. The rest of
our little garrison soon followed; then our sentinels, receiving the
signal that all were safe, drew silently from their guard, and closed our
march through the cavern.
"This effected, we
blocked tip its egressing mouth; that, should our escape be discovered,
the enemy might not find the direct road we had taken.
" We pursued our
course without stop or stay till we reached the hospitable valleys of
Stirlingshire. There some kind shepherds gave the women and children
temporary shelter; and Wallace, seeing that if anything were to be done
for Scotland, he must swell his host, put the party under my guidance;
giving me orders, that when they were rested, I should march them to
Glenfinlass; here to await his return. Selecting ten men; with that small
band, he untied towards the Forth, hoping to meet some valiant friends in
that part of the country, ready to embrace her cause.
had hardly been an hour departed, when Dugald observed a procession of
monks descending the opposite mountain. They drew near, and halted in the
glen. A crowd of women from the neighbouring hills had followed the train,
and were now gathering round a bier, which the monks set down. I know not
by what happy fortune I came close to the leader of the procession, but he
saw something in my old rough features that declared me an honest. Scot.
‘ Friend,’ whispered he, ‘ for charity, conduct us to some safe
place, where we may withdraw this bier from the sacrilegious eye of
"I made no hesitation;
but desired the train to follow me into a byre belonging to the good
shepherd who was my host. On this motion, the common people went away; and
the monks entered the place.
"When the travellers threw up
their hoods, which as mourners they bad worn over their faces, I could not
help exclaiming, Alas, for the glory of Scotland, that this goodly group
of stout young men, rather wore the helmet than the cowl! ‘—‘How
!‘ asked their principal, (who did not appear to have seen thirty
years,)’ do we not pray for the glory of Scotland? Such is our
weapons’ ‘ True,’ replied I; ‘but while Moses prayed, Joshua
fought. God gives the means of glory, that they should be used.’ ‘But
for what, old veteran,’ said the monk, with a penetrating look,
‘should we exchange our cowl for the helmet? knowest thou anything of
the Joshua who would lead us to the field?’ There was something in the
young priest’s eyes that seemed to contradict his pacific words: they
flashed an impetuous fire. My reply was short: "Are you a Scot?"
'I am in soul,
and in arms.’ ‘Then knowest thou not the chief of Ellerslie?’ As I
spoke, for I stood close to the bier, I perceived the pall shake. The monk
answered my last question, with an exclamation—’You mean Sir William
"‘Yes!’ I replied. The bier
shook more violently at these words, and, with my hair bristling from my
head, I saw the pall hastily thrown off, and a beautiful youth, in a
shroud, started from it, crying aloud, ‘Then is our pilgrimage at an end
!—Lead us to him!’
"The monk perceived my
terror, and hastily exclaimed, ‘Fear not! he is alive, and seeks Sir
William Wallace. His pretended death was a stratagem, to ensure our sage
through the English army; for we are soldiers like yourself.’ As he
spoke, he opened his grey habit, and showed me the mailed tartans
" What, then !"
interrupted Murray, "these monks were my faithful clansmen ?"
replied Stephen: "I assured them they might now resume their own
characters; for all who inhabited the valley we were then in, were true,
though poor and aged Scots. The young had long been drafted by Edward’s
agents, to fight his battles abroad."
the shrouded youth, ‘are we a peopIe that can die for the honour of this
usurper, and are we ignorant how to do it for our country? Lead us,
soldier of Wallace,’ cried he, stepping resolutely on the ground, lead
us to your brave master; and tell him, that a few determined men are come,
to shed their blood for him and Scotland?
This astonishing youth (for
he did not appear to be more than fifteen) stood before me in his robes of
death, like the spirit of some bright-haired son of Fingal: I looked on
him with admiration: and explaining our situation, told him whither
Wallace was gone; and of our destination to await him in the forest of
"While your brave
clansmen were refreshing themselves, we learnt from Kenneth. their
conductor, that the troop left Bothwell under expectation of your soon
following them. They had not proceeded far, before their scouts perceived
the outposts of the English, which surrounded Cartlane craigs; and to
avoid this danger, they took a circuitous path, in hopes of finding some
unguarded entrance. They reached the convent of St. Columba, at the
western side of the craigs. Kenneth knew the abbot; and entering it under
covert of the night, obtained permission for his men to rest there. The
youth, now their companion, was a student in the church. He had been sent
thither by his mother, a pious lady, in the hope that, as he is of a very
gentle nature, he would attach himself to the sacred tonsure. But courage
often springs with most strength in the softest frames.
"The moment this youth
discovered our errand, he tried every persuasive to prevail on the abbot
to permit him to accompany us. But his entreaties were vain, till, wrought
up to vehement anger, he threatened that if he were prevented joining Sir
William Wallace, he would take the earliest opportunity to escape, and
commit himself to the peril of the English pikes.
Seeing him determined, the abbot
granted his wish 'and then it was,’
said Kenneth, ‘that the youth seemed inspired. It was no longer an
enthusiastic boy, we saw before us, but an angel, gifted with wisdom to
direct, and enterprise to lead us. It was he proposed disguising ourselves
as a funeral procession ; and while he painted his blooming countenance,
of a death-like paleness, and stretched himself on this bier, the abbot
sent to the English army, to request permission for a party of monks to
cross the craigs to the cave of St. Columba in Stirlingshire, wither they
carried a dead brother to be entombed. Our young leader hoped we might
thus find an opportunity to apprise Wallace we were friends, and ready to
swell the ranks of his little armament.
"‘On our entrance
into the passes of the craigs,’ continued Kenneth, ‘ the English
captain there, mentioned the fate of Bothwell, and the captivity of Lord
Mar; and with very little courtesy to sons of the church, ordered the bier
to be opened, to see whether it did really contain a corpse, or provisions
for our besieged countrymen. We had certainly expected this investigation;
else we might as well have wrapped the trunk of a tree in the shroud we
carried, as a human being. We knew that the superstitious hatred of the
Southrons, would not allow them to touch a Scottish corpse, and therefore
we feared no detection from the eye’s examination alone. This ceremony
once over, we expected to have passed on without further notice; and in
that case the youth would have left his pall, and performed the remainder
of his journey in a similar disguise with the rest. But the strict watch
of an English guard, confined him wholly to the bier. In hopes of at last
evading this vigilance, on pretence of a vow of the deceased, that his
bearers should perform a pilgrimage throughout the craigs, we traversed
them in every direction; and, I make no doubt, would have finally wearied
out our guard, and gained our point, had not the circumstance transpired
of Wallace’s escape.
"‘How he had
effected it, his enemies could not guess. Not a man of the besiegers was
missing from his post ; and not an avenue appeared, by which they could
trace his flight: but gone he was, and with him his whole train. On this
disappointment, the Southron captains retired to Glasgow, to their
commander in chief to give as good an account as they could of so
disgraceful a termination of their siege. Dismayed at this intelligence,
our peculiar guard hurried us into Stirlingshire, and left us at the other
side of the mountain. But even then we were not free to release our
charge, for attracted by our procession, the country people followed us
into the valley. Yet had we not met with you, it was our design to throw
off our disguises in the first safe place; and, divided into small bands,
have severally sought Sir William Wallace."
demanded Murray, who had listened with delighted astonishment to this
recital, "where is this admirable youth? Why, if Kenneth have learnt
I am arrived, does he not bring him to receive my thanks and friendship
"It is my fault,"
returned Stephen, "that Kenneth will not approach you till your
repast is over. I left him to see your followers properly refreshed. And
for the youth, he seems timid of appearing before you. Even his name I
cannot make known to you, till he reveals it himself; none know him here,
by any other than that of Edwin. He has, however, granted to-morrow
morning for the interview."
"I must submit to his
determination," refilled Murray; "but I am at a loss to guess
why so brave a creature should hesitate to meet me. I can only suppose, he
dislikes the idea of resigning the troop he has so well conducted; and if
so, I shall think it my duty to yield its command to him."
"Indeed he richly
deserves it," returned Stephen; "for the very soul of Wallace
seemed transfused into his breast, as he cheered us through our long march
from the valley to Glenfinlass. He played with the children, heartened up
the women; and when the men were weary, and lagged by the way, he sat him
down on the nearest stones, and sang to us legends of our ancestors, till
every nerve was braced with warlike emulation, and starting up, we
proceeded onward with resolution, and even gaiety.
"When we arrived at
Craignacoheilg, as the women were in great want, I suddenly recollected
that I had an old friend in the neighbourhood. When a boy, I had been the
playfellow of Sir John Scott of Loch Dome; and though I understood him to
be now an invalid, I went to him. While I told my tale, his
brother-in-law, Sir Roger Kirkpatrick, took fire at my relation, and
declared his determination to accompany me to Craignacoheilg; and when he
joined our band on the summit of this rock, he took the children in his
arms, and while he held their hands in his, vehemently addressed their
mothers, ‘Let not these hands be baptised, [It was a custom with
Scottish chiefs, when any feud existed between their families, to leave
the right hand of their children untouched by the holy water in baptism,
as a sign that no law, even of Heaven, should prevent them taking revenge.
From this usage Kirkpatrick declares, that the hands of the children in
Wallace’s train, shall be left unchristened, till they have taken
vengeance on their oppressors; an unholy custom, only excusable by
consideration of the scriptural darkness in which the generality of
Christian professors were then held.—(1809.)] till they have been washed
in the blood of our foe. Mercy belongs not to the enemy, now doomed to
fall beneath their fathers’ swords!"
"It is, indeed a deadly
contest," rejoined Murray; "for evil has been the example of
that foe. How many innocent bosoms have their steel pierced! How many
helpless babes have their merciless hands dashed against the stone! Oh,
ruthless war! even a soldier trembles, to contemplate thy horrors."
"Only till he can
avenge them!" cried a stern voice, entering the apartment; it was
Kirkpatrick’s, and he proceeded; "When vengeance is in our grasp,
tell me, brave Murray, who will then tremble? Dost thou not feel
retribution, in thine own hands? Dost thou not see the tyrant’s blood,
at thy feet?" As he spoke, he looked down, with a horrid exultation
in his eyes; and, bursting into a more horrible laugh, struck his hand
several times on his heart: " It glads me! it glads me! I shalt see
it—and this arm shall assist to pull him down."
"His power in
Scotland, may fall," returned Murray; "but Edward will be too
careful of his life to come within reach of our steel."
"That may be,"
rejoined Kirkpatrick; "but my dagger shall yet drink the blood of his
agents. Cressingham shall feel my foot upon his neck! Cressingham shall
see that hand torn from its wrist, which durst violate the unsullied cheek
of a true Scotsman. Murray, I cannot live unrevenged."
As he spoke, he quitted the
apartment; and with a countenance of such tremendous fate, that the young
warior doubted it was human: it spoke not the noble resolves of
patriotism, but the portentous malignity with which the great adversary of
mankind determines the ruin of nations: it seemed to wither the grass on
which he moved; and Murray almost thought that the clouds darkened, as the
gloomy knight issued from the porch into the open air.
Kenneth Mackenzie joyfully
entered the hall. Murray received him with a warm embrace; and, soon
after, Stephen Ireland led the wearied chieftain to a bed of
freshly-gathered heath, prepared for him in an upper chamber.