" "They mean," cried Lorn, "that the prowess of the haughty
boaster, whom their intoxicated gratitude raised from the dust, shall
not avail him against the indignation of a nation over which he dares
to arrogate a right."
"Mean they what they will," returned Wallace, "they cannot dispossess
me of the rights with which assembled Scotland invested me on the
plains of Stirling. And again I demand, by what authority do you and
they presume to imprison my officer, and withhold from me the papers
sent by the King of France to the Regent of Scotland?"
"By the authority that we will maintain," replied Badenoch; "by the
right of my royal blood, and by the sword of every brave Scot, who
spurns at the name of Wallace!"
"And as a proof that we speak not more than we act," cried Lorn, making
assign to the chiefs, "you are our prisoner!"
Many weapons were instantly unsheathed; and their bearers, hurrying to
the side of Badenoch and Lorn, attempted to lay hands on Wallace; but
he, drawing the sword of Edward, with a sweep of his valiant arm that
made the glittering blade seem a brand of fire, set his back against
the wall, and exclaimed:
"He that first makes a stroke at me shall find his death on this
Southron steel! This sword I made the puissant arm of the usurper
yield to me; and this sword shall defend the Regent of Scotland against
his ungrateful countrymen!"
The chieftains who pressed on him recoiled at these words, but their
leaders, Badenoch and Lorn, waved them forward, with vehement
exhortations.
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