In all the books I have read about William Wallace Nigel Tranter's "The Wallace" shows the most what the man must have been like. From its opening pages we meet William Wallace, a man, like us, with human emotions of pain, weakness, joy and courage.

Tranter presents this viewpoint from the book's opening paragraphs.

"The man stood, weeping. If weeping describes the dry-eyed, deep and tearing sobs, which racked his enormous frame, in an extremity of sorrow, pain, hurt. The three men with him eyed him askance, or sought not to eye him, afraid almost to look on his distress. Not that they were ashamed, embarrassed. They were, in fact, terrified - terrified of their friend.

The scene was indeed terrible. But it was not the scene which frightened them. It was the big man weeping, sobbing. Most things this man did, he did with his whole heart and mind and faculties - and that could hold its own alarm for the less committed. When his emotions were strongly aroused, subsequent action could be swift, shattering, shocking, indeed - not in sheer impulsiveness nor mindless violence, but in intense, calculated vehemence. For this was a man of thought and assessment equally as of action - a rare combination, in itself apt to make others uneasy. Just as in reverse as it were, his gentleness, kindliness even patience, could be as unexpected, insupportable in its implied demands on others.

Yet the three others loved him.

William Wallace's lips were moving. ‘God in Heaven help me!' He whispered. ‘God in Heaven - help me!' He raised two great hands up and forward and open, toward that scene of horror, but higher. ‘need.. Your help.' His hands and arms; like his entire huge frame, were trembling, so that the ground they stood on seemed to shake in elemental accord.

For long moments he stood so - and his companions scarcely drew breath. Then, suddenly jerking both hands higher still, he reached over in a single swift and sure movement, above and behind his bare head, to whip out with the harsh shriek of steel, the mighty two-handed sword sheathed at his back. In a great sweeping arc he brought its five feet of length over and down, and, as its tip nearly reached the ground, released his grip on its hilt to catch it again expertly, halfway down the broad blade, and so to raise it aloft before him cross-shaped hilt and guard forming the sacred symbol. There he held it, still, unspeaking - and no sound save the faint residual crackle of fire, and the howling of a hound in its desolation, broke the hush of the warm afternoon.

Unspoken, the fearsome, fatal vow was made, there in the quiet green Ayrshire valley - unspoken because it required no words, no detail, no explanation. For life and death, forever, for eternity, the vow was made, the decision reached, the compact sealed, the task dedicated. And his witnesses, Master John Blair, Benedictine monk, Robert Boyd, tenant-farmer, and Edward Little nephew and small laird's son, stared destiny in the face and shivered.

After a little, still not trusting himself to speech, Wallace lowered the sword, and moved forward, heavy-footed, towards Carleith Tower.

It was a small place to have undergone so notable a visitation, a simple square keep of but three storeys and a garret, of no more than twenty-five feet measurement, crowning a grass grown artificial motte or mound, some twenty feet high, the soil for which had been dug out to form a deep surrounding ditch, into which a lade from the nearby Killoch Burn had been led to fill a moat. Within the ditch, but below the mound a high stone wall arose, square also but rounded at the corners, the paling for this pele-tower, pierced only by a single gateway, to the west, at the end of a drawbridge across the ditch. This gateway stood open, the heavy oaken and iron-bound doors wide but undamaged. The bridge was down. A pall of blue smoke rose lazily in the warm early autumn air from all within - even from the square keep on its mound, for it was not a stone tower but built of stout timbers, only coated with whitewashed clay to protect it from blazing arrows. It was not blazing arrows that had done this. The whitewashed walls were still comparatively unscarred. This fire had been lit from within, as had the fires which had destroyed the lean-to domestic buildings and stables built against the curtain-walling around the mound. There had been no arrows, no assault, no fighting here."

Thus we meet Nigel Tranter's "The Wallace." From this point forward we are immersed in a story familiar but different. The biggest variation being the focus on William Wallace as a man with fears, loves, joys and sorrows. Not just a superhero even though he was that. A man who often showed the greatest courage when afraid.

Wallace's first gruesome task was to hide the fourteen bodies from the massacre and the only thing he can find do is dump them in the well. As he completed doing this William Wallace said "God aiding me, the men who did this evil thing will answer for it. To a higher court than Edward Plantagenet's. ...And there after we will seek to cleanse this good land of, of ...."

"The Wallace" hated Edward Longshanks because Sir Malcom Wallace, his father, was killed for not taking an oath to the King. Sir Malcom's sons, Malcom, William, and John, did not make themselves prominent after their father's death. It was difficult not to notice William being 6' 7" and muscular. He was 26 when this book opens. He had married Marion Braidfoot who was now six months pregnant with their first child.

William discovered Sir John Fenwick was the man responsible for the murder of his father. William heard of an opportunity to ambush a military party Fenwick would be leading at the Loudoun Hill pass. Using master strategy and dispersing his men well he traps the British in the pass and Sir John Fenwick dies by "The Wallace's" sword. William felt one debt was paid.

Wallace preferred the church militant to the church magnificent and was not duly impressed with the rich bounty that they captured from the English at Loudoun Hill. Taking his 12 men they hide in Ettrick forest and send the bounty to an Abbey. With winter approaching he could not keep a large group of men in the forest so he decides to go ask Sir. James Stewart, Lord of Renfrew, Bute and Kyle Stewart, Fifth Lord High Steward of Scotland and Wallace's own lord for help. When he asks the lord for help and we hear one of the most memorable quotes in the book. " I do not require your aid but Scotland does."

Most everyone felt that William Wallace, a small knight's son hardly out of boyhood could not lead Scotland. He needed lords, men at arms. They hoped that the victory at Loundon Hill would spur the gentry to join William Wallace and a true leader would arise. One name mentioned was Robert, Earl of Carrich, the son of Robert Bruce. Another gentry showing some aggressive activity was MacDuff, Earl of Fife. The strongest leader suggested was Malcolm, the Earl of Lennox. Wallace went to see the Earl of Lennox but again found no commander for Scotland's campaign but a man involved in a battle to the end with the McDougals. Hearing more of the MacDuff uprising Wallace decided to go north to meet with MacDuff. He left the south with 60 men heading for the North East. The trip north brought Wallace into many battles and difficulties around Stirling Castle and Perth. Wallace is wounded in battle with a deep cut on his neck.

It is during this time we met an important secondary character in his adventures - a prostitute named Meg Drummond in Perth. Wallace uses her as a source of information and comfort. He never breaks his marriage vows with her but found understanding and caring. It is her support that helped him get through this difficult time until she too was found out. As a result of information supplied by some of the people around Meg, "The Wallace" and his band was chased by the English and their blood hounds. Finally a battle brought Wallace to one of the low points in his search for MacDuff. Wallace was betrayed during this battle by one of his own men. The following is a description of his confrontation with the traitor.

"They could hear the sleuth-hound's untiring voice, distant but distinct, as Kerlie finished speaking.

Clenching his fists. Wallace turned back, almost falling in his dizziness as he did so. He found Fawdon and four others at the rear, halted.

'What mean you by this?' He demanded. 'With mounted men and a bloodhound on our trail, this is no time for lingering.'

'We go no further,' Fawdon asserted, roughly. 'We are weary, and have had enough.'

'Would you liefer be weary, or dead, man!

'We will not die. Unless you lead us to our deaths! As you have done the half our number, by God's Mother!' The other, who had been sitting, had risen to his feet, hand dropping to the hilt of his sword. 'You think you will lead better?'

'I say yes! I could scarce lead worse. Eh, lads?'

There was an indeterminate murmur from the others.

'You follow me no longer, then?' Heavily Wallace asked it. 'But ... if I made for Methven Wood, you would follow still?'

Fawdon hesitated 'No,' he decided 'We have had enough of you. We'll bide here.'

'Here? Are you mad, man? If you bide here, the English will take you. And that will be the end of you.'

'Not so. The English will spare us, if we yield to them. You they will not spare - but us, yes.'

Keenly now, for all his splitting head, Wallace stared at the man. 'So-o-o! That is it,' he breathed. 'How do you know this, friend?'

The other began to speak, and then changed his mind. The hand on the sword hilt switched to his dirk.

Wallace saw it, and tensed. 'I will tell these others how you know, Fawdon. If you will not,' he said. 'You know, because you are already yielded. Back at yon fight, you surrendered to the English. And they promised you your wretched life, and freedom, to betray us! You were to come back to us, to delay us, on the way to Methven Wood, to make sure that they caught up with us. That is why, unhurt, you joined us again. And Wallace leapt back, less than nimbly, as the other's hand flashed out, with the chill gleam of moonlight on steel - just in time, although he had anticipated an attack. Three paces back he jerked, his two hands reaching up behind his head in fashion which had become almost automatic with him. Then the great sword was out, and he was flinging himself forward again. In a mighty, slantwise blow the blade struck the other man below the left ear, and sheared right through the neck. In a fountain of blood, black-seeming as ink, the head toppled on the wide shoulders, and like a felled tree, the trunk swayed, leaned, and collapsed with a crash.

Wallace stared, suddenly stricken, at what he had done. There was complete silence from the watchers, until Kerlie spoke.

You should have done the same, Will, long ago. The man was a rogue and a dastard, as well as a traitor. We are well quit of him.'

Still, the big man did not speak. In the quiet, the sleuthbound's eerie howling sounded, and from no great distance off. Thomas Gray knelt, and murmured a brief Latinity over the dead man. He rose, and laid a hand on his friend's arm. 'You could do naught else, Will,' he said. 'Sooner or later it had to come - him or you. God be thanked it is Fawdon who lies there, not Wallace! For all our sakes.'

The big man was looking down at his hands and sword, as though neither really belonged to him. 'I ... I am a man of blood!' he muttered. 'I slew ... one of my own. I killed ... a comrade.

'A Judas!' The priest declared strongly. 'With his dirk drawn against you.'

'I need not have slain him. I have become a slayer. With scarce a thought, I now slay! Dead ...' Wallace stopped, then, and drew a great breath. When he spoke again, his voice was quite different, stronger, harsher. 'No matter now. Time we were far from here. We cannot bury him.'

"Leave him there,' MacGregor said. 'He will serve to distract the hound, at least!'

Yes. Come then ..."

Wallace suffering from his neck wounds and a blow to the head became haunted by the ghost of the traitor who he beheaded and runs to get away from the demon. The Wallace, the great hero, was terrified of his own thoughts.

"With Gray and the others gone, the big man paced the gloomy stone-flagged vault. Every now and again he raised his hands before his eyes, peering for bloodstains, the blood of a comrade who had risked and fought and suffered with him. Dead by these two hands. He could see no blood - but wherever he looked he could see Fawdon's eyes, accusing, accusing.

Some time thereafter he thought that he sensed movement beyond the broken, ivy-hung doorway. Grabbing up his two handed sword from where it lay, he rushed out. A man stood in the shadows. It was Fawdon. Wallace cried out. Even as he did so, the apparition detached its own head, and held it out to him. Yelling aloud, the big man went lurching away at a shambling run, every now and again pausing, to turn and flail behind him with the sword. Then on, he knew not where.

Presently he found himself on a high bank at the riverside, in trembling breathless horror, leaning on his sword, as on a staff, seeking breath. If he might cross the black flood, he might shake Fawdon off - like the sleuth-hound. Water - he must cross water. But it was too high, here. He must find a lower place, where he could reach the water. He turned, left-handed - and there, standing beside a bush, was the man, holding out the head to him again, silent, both accusing and appealing.

Wallace broke and ran again - ran eastwards along the inversive road, caring nothing where he went, so long as it was away from that severed bloody head."

William was rescued by a family of foresters. His recovery was slow because his spirits were low as he felt he had deserted his men. After his recovery he leaves the Stirling area to spend Christmas and see his wife who lost their son by a miscarriage. On this trip William meets another of Tranter's book great characters, Sir Thomas Learmonth of Ercildoune who was known as True Thomas the Rhymer. True Thomas persuaded Wallace that to attack and take the Castle at Lochmaban was the most effective thing to do. As was his custom Thomas presented this prophecy in the form of verse.

"True Thomas does this token make,
Bruce a step to his throne shall take,
When the Welshman shall find haven
In the castle of Lochmaben."

Even with the prophecy it was a difficult task and Wallace had many doubts. The battle for the castle was cleverly planned and successful. And we see the happy victorious Wallace as he says "Up with the bridge .... Down with the portcullis...post the guard. For the rest, come you and join me in dinner in Bruce's hall. The English have left us a notable store of victuals. Let us justice to their provisions".

Immediately following this victory William Wallace changes forever because his wife Marian was killed by Halezrigg for aiding an escaped criminal, her husband - William Wallace. An example of the change was shown when William takes revenge on Hazelrigg:

"Halzrigg?' Wallace jerked.

'I am the Earl of Clydesdale,' the other rasped. Sheriff and ..' He got no further.

Then die, murderer,' he was interrupted. 'I am Wallace.' And the dirk rose and fell, with savage precision.

With a groan, the self-styled earl sank to his knees, swaying without pause, Wallace ran on. Auchinleck, next behind, stabbed the dying man twice more, as though his cousin might have failed to deliver a mortal thrust.

A young man came lurching out of another doorway, sword in hand, calling out and using the word Father - presumably Hazelrigg's son, whom Wallace had heard much of as an insolent womaniser. He raised the sword as he saw the big man, but, bemused with sleep as he was, he was not quick enough. A leather-bound left arm swept aside the blade, and the already bloodstained dirk rose and fell once more. Young Hazelrigg crashed backwards to the floor.

There were women's cries now, but Wallace was not concerned with them. Leaving Kerlie and Auchinleck to deal with any other men in the house, he ran downstairs and out. He felt nothing, no triumph, no vengeance fulfilled, no emotion of any sort. He was an instrument, that was all, an instrument with work to do, and which had to be effective. The effectiveness, now, was all.

Out in the street he found Sir John Graham hurrying to report. He had not waited for the fire at the Old Castle, but had burned Sir Robert Thorn's house around its occupier. They had cut the Governor down as he ran out. Was Hazelrigg dead? Then - might they not now take all Lanark town, with the leaders gone?

'Take a garrison town with a dozen men, and the garrison roused!' Wallace exclaimed. 'There speaks folly. We have done what we came to do. Now we must be out, while we may.' He raised his horn, to sound the Recall. 'Back to Gillbank..."

The last section of the book described how Wallace attempted to recruit the Lords and gentry of Scotland to support his cause. His prime target is young Robert the Bruce with a direct blood line to the throne. In the battle for Ayr all Robert the Bruce did was watch. In the battle for Ayr this reader experienced again the hard and somewhat cruel Wallace as he burned people alive and hanged the survivors.

An example of the difficulties Wallace experienced with the nobles was found in this moving quote:

"Wallace took a major grip on himself. ‘I regret, my lord Bishop, if I spoke ill. But - it my be that I speak for other than do you. You all. You, my lord, speak for Holy Church. And these noble lords - who do they speak for? Themselves, their lands, the power of the realm. But who speaks for the folk of Scotland, my lords? Does any here? The folk. The nation. This Scotland is more than a realm, my friends - it is a nation. A people, an ancient people. A people that has been betrayed and sold and spurned. All but forgotten by those who seek the power. But it is the people who will pay for what is decided this day, the people who will be ground under the heel of the tyrant. You lords, I swear, will survive, whoever rules! Even if Scotland is no more, you will still be lords. But not the common folk. Not the Scots. Do you ever think of them my lords? I, for want of a better, must be their spokesman this day. I say fight!"

The final section of the book presented most of "The Wallace's" major battles including the battle at Stirling Bridge where Wallace became a national hero. He also became a Lord, Guardian of Scotland and a General. All these roles made him uncomfortable but he carried them out until the defeat at Falkirk which Tranter presented with great detail and once again sensitivity to the man.

I am leaving the rest of the book for you to read. It takes a real change in direction from "Braveheart", the movie, and other books I have read about William Wallace. Yes, it ends in the same tragic place that all books about William Wallace must end. His death is recorded fact. Even so Tranter presented The Wallace, a man with feelings and fears at this horrible moment.

If you want to know more about what William Wallace, a person, might have been like then this book is a "must" for you. If you are interested in ordering you have two options: If your browser reads java then just use our shopping cart by going through our open book.

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