each side of me are my sons. There brother I lost last night in the
conflict. To-day, by your mercy, not only my life is preserved, but my
two remaining children also. Yet I am an Englishman, and I cannot be
grateful at the expense of my allegiance."

"Nor would I require it of you," returned Wallace; "these brave Welsh
and Irish were brought hither by the invader who subjugates their
countries; they owe him no duty. But you are a free subject of
England; he that is a tyrant over others can only be a king to you; he
must be the guardian of your laws, the defender of your liberties, or
his scepter falls. Having sworn to follow a sovereign so plighted, I
am not severe enough to condemn you, because, misled by that phantom
which he calls glory, you have suffered him to betray you into unjust
conquests."

"Once I have been so misled," returned the old man; "but I never will
again. Fifty years I have fought under the British standard, in
Normandy and in Palestine; and now in my old age, with four sons, I
followed the armies of my sovereign into Scotland. My eldest I lost on
the plains of Dunbar. My second fell last night; and my two youngest
are now by my side. You have saved them and me. What can I do? Not,
as your noble self says, forswear my country; but this I swear, and in
the oath do you, my sons, join (as he spoke they laid their crossed
hands upon his, in token of assent), never to lift an arm against Sir
William Wallace or the cause of injured Scotland!"

"To this we also subjoin!" cried several other men, who comprised the
whole of the English prisoners.

"Noble people!" cried Wallace, "why have you not a king worthy of you?"