Castle and fortalice opened their gates before Wallace as he marched from Ayr to Berwick; but at Berwick he encountered stout resistance from a noble foeman, the Earl of Gloucester, who with his garrison yielded only to starvation.  Wallace, touched with their valour, permitted them to march out with all the honours of war, and with the chivalrous earl he formed a friendship that was never dimmed by the enmity of the nations to which they belonged.

Soon there came a summons to Stirling.  By a dishonourable stratagem of De Valence’s, Lord and Lady Mar and Helen had been seized and carried to Stirling Castle, where Lord Mar was in danger of immediate death.  Helen was in the power of De Valence, who pressed his hateful suit upon her.  Wallace and his men marched hastily, and captured the town; once more De Valence begged Wallace’s mercy, and once more, unworthy as he was, obtained it.  But the ruthless Cressingham, commanding the castle, placed Lord Mar on the battlements with a rope round his neck, and declared that unless the attack ceased the earl and his whole family would instantly die.  Wallace’s reply was to bring forward De Valence, pale and trembling.  “The moment Lord Mar dies, De Valence shall instantly perish,” he declared.

Cressingham agreed to an armistice, hoping to gain time until De Warenne, with the mighty English host then advancing from the border, had reached Stirling.  Next morning this great army in its pride poured across the bridge of the Forth; but the Scottish warriors, rushing down from the hillsides, with Wallace at their head, swept all before them.  It was rather a carnage than a battle.  Those who escaped the steel of Wallace’s men were thrust into the river, and land and water were burdened with English dead.

That evening Stirling Castle surrendered, the Scottish prisoners were released, and their places were taken by the commanders of the enemy’s host.

III.—­Wallace the Regent

When the victorious chiefs were gathering in the hall of the castle, Helen looked upon each one with anxious eyes.  Would the gentle knight who rescued her be in Wallace’s train?  Lady Mar turned a restless glance upon her step-daughter.  “Wallace will behold these charms,” she cried to herself, “and then, where am I?”

Amid a crowd of knights in armour the conqueror entered; and as Helen raised her eyes she saw that the knight of her dream, the man who had saved her from worse than death, was Wallace himself!

“Scots, behold the Lord’s anointed!” cried the patriot Bishop of Dunkeld, drawing from his breast a silver dove of sacred oil, and pouring it upon Wallace’s head.

Every knee was bent, and every voice cried “Long live King William!”

“Rise, lords!” exclaimed Wallace.  “Kneel not to me—­I am but your fellow soldier.  Bruce lives; God has yet preserved to you a lawful monarch.”

Eagerly they sought to persuade him, but in vain.  He consented to hold the kingdom for the rightful sovereign, under the name of regent, but the crown he would not accept.  He found a nation waiting on his nod—­the hearts of half a million people offered to his hand.