‘Indeed it is so, if we would be subdued by this tyrant.’

‘If we did not revolt, if we were placid under his rule, we should enjoy the good rule which prevails in England. It is because he fears revolt that he is harsh.’

‘And good reason he has to fear it. He will discover that we too can be harsh.’

His uncle shook his head. He would never change William. He was as wild as he was when he had first come to Dunipace.

It was soon after that conversation that William’s father, Sir Malcolm Wallace, came in haste to Dunipace, and his eldest son – named Malcolm after him – came with him.

The priest welcomed his brother and nephew with pleasure, but he quickly learned that they brought no good news.

William came hurrying down to greet his father and elder brother, and his father, after embracing him and assuring himself of his good health and that of his brother the priest, said he was in great haste and must talk in secret.

In the study Malcolm Wallace told why he had come.

‘We can no longer tolerate the rule of the English in Elderslie,’ he explained. ‘I have made that very clear, and I have placed myself and our family in danger through so doing.’

‘Father, I am proud,’ cried William.

His father held up his hand. ‘It may have been folly. But they are after me. I have sent your mother with your brother John to Kilspindie in the Carse of Gowrie and I want you, William, to follow them there with all speed.’

‘And you, sir?’ asked William. ‘Where will you go?’

‘I and your brother Malcolm are going on to the Lennox. There is a plan to form a body of troops to move against the English.’

‘Father, I shall come with you.’

‘No, my son. I have a more important mission for you. I want you to go to Kilspindie and protect your mother and young brother.’

William hesitated. He longed to go into battle against the English but the task of protecting his family was, he could see, of the utmost importance.

‘When shall I set out?’

‘At the earliest possible moment. There will soon be a price on my head, depend upon it, and members of my family will not be safe.’

‘I will go at once, sir,’ cried William.

The priest shook his head and said that he would tell the servants to serve a meal, and while it was being prepared William could get ready to leave. The priest was sad. He felt in his heart that no good could come of this rebellion, and he would have been happier if they could have worked the matter out in a conference between the Scots and the English.


* * *

William arrived in Kilspindie to find his mother and young brother John eagerly awaiting him.

His mother was anxious. ‘I did not want your father to go off with Malcolm in this way.’

‘Oh, Mother,’ cried William, ‘you are like my uncle. You are ready to pay any price for peace.’

‘Peace is the most desirable thing on earth to a woman with a husband and sons.’

‘Nay, Mother,’ replied William. ‘Honour is more. I tell you this. One day we are going to drive the English out of Scotland, and I …’

He paused. He did not want to talk of his dream. It was too precious and he felt that if he talked of it it might be unlucky. He did not want to say that he saw himself at the head of an army, leading the Scots to victory, crushing the might of Edward. But that was the dream and it grew more vivid as he grew older.

Kilspindie! How dull it was. There was no danger there. John had lessons from a tutor but William was too advanced for that. His mother worried about his interrupted education. She was safe enough in Kilspindie, she said. She wanted him to go to Dundee to a brother of hers who would house him and he could attend the school which was attached to the monastery there.

When he assured her that he was old enough to have done with schooling she shook her head. She was anxious that he should complete his training and she persisted in her efforts to persuade him. He had been sent to her to protect her, he reminded her. There was no need, she had said. In fact she was safer without a son who had a habit of speaking his thoughts about the English aloud. If she lived quietly she would need no protection.

It was a fact that the quiet life of Kilspindie had no great appeal for him. If he could have joined his father he would have done so, but he had not heard where he was, so he finally agreed to leave Kilspindie and go to Dundee to his maternal uncle.

This proved to be a fatal decision. His uncle received him with warmth, and he was soon installed in the school where he worked hard hoping to complete his education as soon as was possible so that he might devote himself to his destiny. He longed to join his father but he knew he should not go out and look for him, but stay where he could easily go to the aid of his mother if she should need him.

He was soon very popular in his uncle’s house, particularly with the housekeeper who irritated him mildly at times with her constant attentions, for she would insist that he did not go out into the cold winds without his warm jacket and that he eat every scrap of his porridge. He teased her and she enjoyed his teasing and she was clearly delighted to have a young man in the house.

The castle of Dundee was in the hands of Governor Selby, one of the worst of Edward’s deputies, and this man was very unpopular in the town. His punishments for insubordination were exceptionally harsh and being an arrogant man he insisted on the utmost respect from the Scottish inhabitants. When William strolled through the streets of the town he burned with fury. He would sit in the taverns and listen to the tales of injustice and he was ripe for trouble.

It so happened that one day he attired himself in his best cloak and tunic of green, the fashionable colour, and setting his dagger and sword in his belt went out to meet his friends in one of the taverns.

In the narrow street he saw a young man coming towards him accompanied by two friends, and it was clear at once that the young man was someone of importance by the sycophantic manner of his attendants. William did not need to be told who he was. He had seen him before, riding with his father, Governor Selby.

The young man expected William to doff his hat and bow low. Instead of which William barred his way and showed clearly that he had no intention even of stepping aside to allow him to pass.

Young Selby looked William up and down with an insolence which set William’s Scottish heart beating with rage and excitement. At last he was face to face with one of the enemy.

‘And who is this?’ asked Selby, turning to one of his friends. ‘He is uncouth enough to be a Scot.’

‘And you are arrogant enough to be English,’ retorted William hotly.

‘You heard him,’ cried young Selby. ‘He insulted our King.’

‘What, that tyrant!’ cried William, his blood up, so that he was in his most reckless mood.

‘By God’s body,’ cried young Selby. ‘You heard him. He speaks thus of great Edward!’

‘I would I could do more than speak against him.’

‘Methinks we must teach the Scot a lesson,’ drawled Selby. ‘When he is hanging by his neck from the gallows he will not be so bold nor look so pretty in his good green clothes.’

Selby had his hand on his dagger, but William was before him. He seized Selby by the neck, shook him and then plucking his dagger from its sheath he thrust it into the young man’s breast, withdrew it, and threw the young man to the ground. It was clear from one look at the Governor’s son stretched out on the cobbles that he was dead.

William had killed his first Englishman and it had all happened in a few seconds. For a moment Selby’s attendants were stunned, but not for long. William, however, was quicker to act than they were. The son of the Governor killed by his hand! This would be certain death for him – probably torture. If he were caught now he would never live to save Scotland. He turned and mustering all his strength fled from the scene.

He had run back to his uncle’s house before he realised the folly of this. He was known. He had been seen. It was the first place they would come to look for him.

He must go. But where?

His uncle’s housekeeper seated at her spinning wheel stared at him in horror for his green tunic was spattered with blood.

‘I cannot stay,’ panted William. ‘They will be after me. This is the first place they will come to. I have to get away … quickly.’

‘You have killed someone!’

‘The Governor’s son.’

‘May God preserve us. You were seen?’

He nodded. ‘Farewell, Goody. I dare not stay.’

‘Wait! I have a plan.’

‘They are already on their way here,’ he said.

‘You would meet them if you tried to leave. One moment. Here.’ She had stripped off her dress. ‘Put that on …’

He protested but she cried angrily, ‘Do as I say. It is your only chance.’

He saw the reason of that and obeyed. The dress was far too small.

‘Wait,’ she said and ran from the room. A few minutes later, having put on a gown, she returned with a shawl and a cap similar to the one she always wore.

‘Put these on,’ she commanded. ‘The shawl will hide the ill fit of the dress and the cap will make a woman of you. Then sit at the wheel and spin.’

He saw the wisdom of her reasoning and obeyed. He was just in time for as he turned to the wheel Selby’s men burst into the house.

‘Where is he?’ demanded the leader of the men. ‘Where is young Wallace?’

‘Young William …’ said the housekeeper. ‘How should I know? In the town most likely. That’s where the lazy young lad spends most of his time. ’Tis lassies and taverns for him and ’tis there you’ll find him.’