Adhere to that unhappy man, and by to-morrow's sunset your offended
king will be on these hills, and mercy shall be no more! Death is the
doom of Sir William Wallace, and a similar fate to every Scot who after
this hour dares to give him food, shelter, or succor. He is the
prisoner of King Edward, and thus I demand him at your hands!"
Wallace spoke not, but with an unmoved countenance looked around upon
the assembly. Edwin precipitated himself into his arms. Bothwell's
full soul then forced utterance from his laboring breast:
"Tell your sovereign," cried he, "that he mistakes. We are the
conquerors who ought to dictate terms of peace! Wallace is our
invincible leader, our redeemer from slavery, the earthly hope in whom
we trust, and it is not in the power of men nor devils to bribe us to
betray our benefactor. Away to your king and tell him that Andrew
Murray, and every honest Scot, is ready to live or to die by the side
of Sir William Wallace."
"And by this good sword I swear the same!" cried Ruthven.
"And so do I!" rejoined Scrymgeour, "or may the standard of Scotland be
my winding-sheet!"
"Or may the Clyde swallow us up, quick!" exclaimed Lockhart of Lee,
shaking his mailed hand at the embassadors.
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