IVANHOE


By Sir Walter Scott


Chapter 1

	Thus communed these; while to their lowly dome,
	The full-fed swine return'd with evening home;
	Compell'd, reluctant, to the several sties,
	With din obstreperous, and ungrateful cries.
								Pope's Odyssey.


In that pleasant district of merry England which is watered by the river 
Don, there extended in ancient times a large forest, covering the greater 
part of the beautiful hills and valleys which lie between Sheffield and the 
pleasant town of Doncaster. The remains of this extensive wood are still to 
be seen at the noble seats of Wentworth, of Wharncliffe Park, and around 
Rotherham. Here haunted of yore the fabulous Dragon of Wantley; here were 
fought many of the most desperate battles during the Civil Wars of the 
Roses, and here also flourished in ancient times those bands of gallant 
outlaws, whose deeds have been rendered so popular in English song.
Such being our chief scene, the date of our story refers to a period 
towards the end of the reign of Richard I., when his return from his long 
captivity had become an event rather wished than hoped for by his 
despairing subjects, who were in the meantime subjected to every species of 
subordinate oppression. The nobles, whose power had become exorbitant 
during the reign of Stephen, and whom the prudence of Henry the Second had 
scarce reduced into some degree of subjection to the crown, had now resumed 
their ancient license in its utmost extent; despising the feeble 
interference of the English Council of State, fortifying their castles, 
increasing the number of their dependants, reducing all around them to a 
state of vassalage, and striving by every means in their power to place 
themselves each at the head of such forces as might enable him to make a 
figure in the national convulsions which appeared to be impending.
The situation of the inferior gentry, or franklins, as they were called, 
who, by the law and spirit of the English constitution, were entitled to 
hold themselves independent of feudal tyranny, became now unusually 
precarious. If, as was most generally the case, they placed themselves 
under the protection of any of the petty kings in their vicinity, accepted 
of feudal offices in his household, or bound themselves, by mutual treaties 
of alliance and protection, to support him in his enterprises, they might 
indeed purchase temporary repose; but it must be with the sacrifice of that 
independence which was so dear to every English bosom, and at the certain 
hazard of being involved as a party in whatever rash expedition the 
ambition of their protector might lead him to undertake. On the other hand, 
such and so multiplied were the means of vexation and oppression possessed 
by the great barons, that they never wanted the pretext, and seldom the 
will, to harass and pursue, even to the very edge of destruction, any of 
their less powerful neighbours, who attempted to separate themselves from 
their authority, and to trust for their protection, during the dangers of 
the times, to their own inoffensive conduct, and to the laws of the land.
A circumstance which greatly tended to enhance the tyranny of the nobility 
and the sufferings of the inferior classes arose from the consequences of 
the Conquest by Duke William of Normandy. Four generations had not sufficed 
to blend the hostile blood of the Normans and Anglo-Saxons, or to unite, by 
common language and mutual interests, two hostile races, one of which still 
felt the elation of triumph, while the other groaned under all the 
consequences of defeat. The power had been completely placed in the hands 
of the Norman nobility by the event of the battle of Hastings, and it had 
been used, as our histories assure us, with no moderate hand. The whole 
race of Saxon princes and nobles had been extirpated or disinherited, with 
few or no exceptions; nor were the numbers great who possessed land in the 
country of their fathers, even as proprietors of the second, or of yet 
inferior classes. The royal policy had long been to weaken, by every means, 
legal or illegal, the strength of a part of the population which was justly 
considered as nourishing the most inveterate antipathy to their victor. All 
the monarchs of the Norman race had shown the most marked predilection for 
their Norman subjects; the laws of the chase, and many others equally 
unknown to the milder and more free spirit of the Saxon constitution, had 
been fixed upon the necks of the subjugated inhabitants, to add weight, as 
it were, to the feudal chains with which they were loaded. At court, and in 
the castles of the great nobles, where the pomp and state of a court was 
emulated, Norman-French was the only language employed; in courts of law, 
the pleadings and judgements were delivered in the same tongue. In short, 
French was the language of honour, of chivalry, and even of justice, while 
the far more manly and expressive Anglo-Saxon was abandoned to the use of 
rustics and hinds, who knew no other. Still, however, the necessary 
intercourse between the lords of the soil, and those oppressed inferior 
beings by whom that soil was cultivated, occasioned the gradual formation 
of a dialect, compounded betwixt the French and the Anglo-Saxon, in which 
they could render themselves mutually intelligible to each other; and from 
this necessity arose by degrees the structure of our present English 
language, in which the speech of the victors and the vanquished have been 
so happily blended together; and which has since been so richly improved by 
importations from the classical languages, and from those spoken by the 
southern nations of Europe.
This state of things I have thought it necessary to premise for the 
information of the general reader, who might be apt to forget, that, 
although no great historical events, such as war or insurrection, mark the 
existence of the Anglo-Saxons as a separate people subsequent to the reign 
of William the Second, yet the great national distinctions betwixt them and 
their conquerors, the recollection of what they had formerly been, and to 
what they were now reduced, continued down to the reign of Edward the 
Third, to keep open the wounds which the Conquest had inflicted, and to 
maintain a line of separation betwixt the descendants of the victor Normans 
and the vanquished Saxons.
The sun was setting upon one of the rich grassy glades of that forest, 
which we have mentioned in the beginning of the chapter. Hundreds of broad-
headed, short-stemmed, wide-branched oaks, which had witnessed perhaps the 
stately march of the Roman soldiery, flung their gnarled arms over a thick 
carpet of the most delicious green sward; in some places they were 
intermingled with beeches, hollies, and copsewood of various descriptions, 
so closely as totally to intercept the level beams of the sinking sun; in 
others they receded from each other, forming those long sweeping vistas, in 
the intricacy of which the eye delights to lose itself, while imagination 
considers them as the paths to yet wilder scenes of sylvan solitude. Here 
the red rays of the sun shot a broken and discoloured light, that partially 
hung upon the shattered boughs and mossy trunks of the trees, and there 
they illuminated in brilliant patches the portions of turf to which they 
made their way. A considerable open space, in the midst of this glade, 
seemed formerly to have been dedicated to the rites of Druidical 
superstition; for, on the summit of a hillock, so regular as to seem 
artificial, there still remained part of a circle of rough unhewn stones, 
of large dimensions. Seven stood upright; the rest had been dislodged from 
their places, probably by the zeal of some convert to Christianity, and 
lay, some prostrate near their former site, and others on the side of the 
hill. One large stone only had found its way to the bottom, and in stopping 
the course of a small brook, which glided smoothly round the foot of the 
eminence, gave, by its opposition, a feeble voice of murmur to the placid 
and elsewhere silent streamlet.
The human figures which completed this landscape, were in number two, 
partaking, in their dress and appearance, of that wild and rustic 
character, which belonged to the woodlands of the West-Riding of Yorkshire 
at that early period. The eldest of these men had a stern, savage, and wild 
aspect. His garment was of the simplest form imaginable, being a close 
jacket with sleeves, composed of the tanned skin of some animal, on which 
the hair had been originally left, but which had been worn of in so many 
places, that it would have been difficult to distinguish from the patches 
that remained, to what creature the fur had belonged. This primeval 
vestment reached from the throat to the knees, and served at once all the 
usual purposes of body-clothing; there was no wider opening at the collar, 
than was necessary to admit the passage of the head, from which it may be 
inferred, that it was put on by slipping it over the head and shoulders, in 
the manner of a modern shirt, or ancient hauberk. Sandals, bound with 
thongs made of boars' hide, protected the feet, and a roll of thin leather 
was twined artificially round the legs, and, ascending above the calf, left 
the knees bare, like those of a Scottish Highlander. To make the jacket sit 
yet more close to the body, it was gathered at the middle by a broad 
leathern belt, secured by a brass buckle; to one side of which was attached 
a sort of scrip, and to the other a ram's horn, accoutred with a 
mouthpiece, for the purpose of blowing. In the same belt was stuck one of 
those long, broad, sharp-pointed, and two-edged knives, with a buck's-horn 
handle, which were fabricated in the neighbourhood, and bore even at this 
early period the name of a Sheffield whittle. The man had no covering upon 
his head, which was only defended by his own thick hair, matted and twisted 
together, and scorched by the influence of the sun into a rusty dark-red 
colour, forming a contrast with the overgrown beard upon his cheeks, which 
was rather of a yellow or amber hue. One part of his dress only remains, 
but it is too remarkable to be suppressed; it was a brass ring, resembling 
a dog's collar, but without any opening, and soldered fast round his neck, 
so loose as to form no impediment to his breathing, yet so tight as to be 
incapable of being removed, excepting by the use of the file. On this 
singular gorget was engraved, in Saxon characters, an inscription of the 
following purport: - "Gurth, the son of Beowulph, is the born thrall of 
Cedric of Rotherwood."
Beside the swineherd, for such was Gurth's occupation, was seated, upon one 
of the fallen Druidical monuments, a person about ten years younger in 
appearance, and whose dress, though resembling his companion's in form, was 
of better materials, and of a more fantastic appearance. His jacket had 
been stained of a bright purple hue, upon which there had been some attempt 
to paint grotesque ornaments in different colours. To the jacket he added a 
short cloak, which scarcely reached half way down his thigh; it was of 
crimson cloth, though a good deal soiled, lined with bright yellow; and as 
he could transfer it from one shoulder to the other, or at his pleasure 
draw it all around him, its width, contrasted with its want of longitude, 
formed a fantastic piece of drapery. He had thin silver bracelets upon his 
arms, and on his neck a collar of the same metal bearing the inscription, 
"Wamba, the son of Witless, is the thrall of Cedric of Rotherwood." This 
personage had the same sort of sandals with his companion, but instead of 
the roll of leather thong, his legs were cased in a sort of gaiters, of 
which one was red and the other yellow. He was provided also with a cap, 
having around it more than one bell, about the size of those attached to 
hawks, which jingled as he turned his head to one side or other; and as he 
seldom remained a minute in the same posture, the sound might be considered 
as incessant. Around the edge of this cap was a stiff bandeau of leather, 
cut at the top into open work, resembling a coronet, while a prolonged bag 
arose from within it, and fell down on one shoulder like an old-fashioned 
nightcap, or a jelly-bag, or the head-gear of a modern hussar. It was to 
this part of the cap that the bells were attached; which circumstance, as 
well as the shape of his head-dress, and his own half-crazed, half-cunning 
expression of countenance, sufficiently pointed him out as belonging to the 
race of domestic clowns or jesters, maintained in the houses of the 
wealthy, to help away the tedium of those lingering hours which they were 
obliged to spend within doors. He bore, like his companion, a scrip, 
attached to his belt, but had neither horn nor knife, being probably 
considered as belonging to a class whom it is esteemed dangerous to entrust 
with edge-tools. In place of these, he was equipped with a sword of lath, 
resembling that with which Harlequin operates his wonders upon the modern 
stage.
The outward appearance of these two men formed scarce a stronger contrast 
than their look and demeanour. That of the serf, or bondsman, was sad and 
sullen; his aspect was bent on the ground with an appearance of deep 
dejection, which might be almost construed into apathy, had not the fire 
which occasionally sparkled in his red eye manifested that there slumbered, 
under the appearance of sullen despondency, a sense of oppression, and a 
disposition to resistance. The looks of Wamba, on the other hand, 
indicated, as usual with his class, a sort of vacant curiosity, and fidgety 
impatience of any posture of repose, together with the utmost self-
satisfaction respecting his own situation, and the appearance which he 
made. The dialogue which they maintained between them, was carried on in 
Anglo-Saxon, which, as we said before, was universally spoken by the 
inferior classes, excepting the Norman soldiers, and the immediate personal 
dependants of the great feudal nobles. But to give their conversation in 
the original would convey but little information to the modern reader, for 
whose benefit we beg to offer the following translation:
"The curse of St Withold upon these infernal porkers!" said the swine-herd, 
after blowing his horn obstreperously, to collect together the scattered 
herd of swine, which, answering his call with notes equally melodious, 
made, however, no haste to remove themselves from the luxurious banquet of 
beech-mast and acorns on which they had fattened, or to forsake the marshy 
banks of the rivulet, where several of them, half plunged in mud, lay 
stretched at their ease, altogether regardless of the voice of their 
keeper. "The curse of St Withold upon them and upon me!" said Gurth; "if 
the two-legged wolf snap not up some of them ere nightfall, I am no true 
man. Here, Fangs! Fangs!" he ejaculated at the top of his voice to a ragged 
wolfish-looking dog, a sort of lurcher, half mastiff, half greyhound, which 
ran limping about as if with the purpose of seconding his master in 
collecting the refractory grunters; but which, in fact, from 
misapprehension of the swine-herd's signals, ignorance of his own duty, or 
malice prepense, only drove them hither and thither, and increased the evil 
which he seemed to design to remedy. "A devil draw the teeth of him," said 
Gurth, "and the mother of mischief confound the Ranger of the forest, that 
cuts the foreclaws off our dogs, and makes them unfit for their trade! 
Wamba, up and help me an thou bee'st a man; take a turn round the back o' 
the hill to gain the wind on them; and when thous't got the weather-gage, 
thou mayst drive them before thee as gently as so many innocent lambs."
"Truly," said Wamba, without stirring from the spot, "I have consulted my 
legs upon this matter, and they are altogether of opinion, that to carry my 
gay garments through these sloughs would be an act of unfriendship to my 
sovereign person and royal wardrobe; wherefore, Gurth, I advise thee to 
call off Fangs, and leave the herd to their destiny, which, whether they 
meet with bands of travelling soldiers, or of outlaws, or of wandering 
pilgrims, can be little else than to be converted into Normans before 
morning, to thy no small ease and comfort."
"The swine turned Normans to my comfort!" quoth Gurth; "expound that to me, 
Wamba, for my brain is too dull, and my mind too vexed to read riddles."
"Why, how call you those grunting brutes running about on their four legs?" 
demanded Wamba.
"Swine, fool - swine," said the herd, "every fool knows that."
"And swine is good Saxon," said the Jester; "but how call you the sow when 
she is flayed, and drawn, and quartered, and hung up by the heels, like a 
traitor?"
"Pork," answered the swine-herd.
"I am very glad every fool knows that too," said Wamba, "and pork, I think, 
is good Norman-French; and so when the brute lives, and is in the charge of 
a Saxon slave, she goes by her Saxon name; but becomes a Norman, and is 
called pork, when she is carried to the castle hall to feast among the 
nobles. What dost thou think of this, friend Gurth, ha?"
"It is but too true doctrine, friend Wamba, however it got into thy fool's 
pate."
"Nay, I can tell you more," said Wamba, in the same tone: "there is old 
Alderman Ox continues to hold his Saxon epithet while he is under the 
charge of serfs and bondsmen such as thou, but becomes Beef, a fiery French 
gallant, when he arrives before the worshipful jaws that are destined to 
consume him. Mynheer Calf, too, becomes Monsieur de Veau in the like 
manner: he is Saxon when he requires tendance, and takes a Norman name when 
he becomes matter of enjoyment."
"By St Dunstan," answered Gurth, "thou speakest but sad truths; little is 
left to us but the air we breathe, and that appears to have been reserved 
with much hesitation, solely for the purpose of enabling us to endure the 
tasks they lay upon our shoulders. The finest and the fattest is for their 
board; the loveliest is for their couch; the best and bravest supply their 
foreign masters with soldiers, and whiten distant lands with their bones, 
leaving few here who have either will or the power to protect the 
unfortunate Saxon. God's blessing on our master Cedric, he hath done the 
work of a man in standing in the gap; but Reginald Front-de-Boeuf is coming 
down to this country in person, and we shall soon see how little Cedric's 
trouble will avail him. - Here, here," he exclaimed again, raising his 
voice, "So ho! so ho! well done, Fangs! thou hast them all before thee now, 
and bring'st them on bravely, lad."
"Gurth," said the Jester, "I know thou thinkest me a fool, or thou wouldst 
not be so rash in putting thy head into my mouth. One word to Reginald 
Front-de-Boeuf, or Philip de Malvoisin, that thou hast spoken treason 
against the Norman - and thou art but a cast-away swineherd; thou wouldst 
waver on one of these trees as a terror to all evil speakers against 
dignities."
"Dog, thou wouldst not betray me," said Gurth, "after having led me on to 
speak so much at disadvantage?"
"Betray thee!" answered the Jester; "no, that were the trick of a wise man; 
a fool cannot half so well help himself. But soft, whom have we here?" he 
said, listening to the trampling of several horses which became then 
audible.
"Never mind whom," answered Gurth, who had now got his herd before him, 
and, with the aid of Fangs, was driving them down one of the long dim 
vistas which we have endeavoured to describe.
"Nay, but I must see the riders," answered Wamba; "perhaps they are come 
from Fairy-land with a message from King Oberon."
"A murrain take thee!" rejoined the swine-herd; "wilt thou talk of such 
things, while a terrible storm of thunder and lightning is raging within a 
few miles of us? Hark, how the thunder rumbles! and for summer rain, I 
never saw such broad downright flat drops fall out of the clouds; the oaks, 
too, notwithstanding the calm weather, sob and creak with their great 
boughs as if announcing a tempest. Thou canst play the rational if thou 
wilt; credit me for once, and let us home ere the storm begins to rage, for 
the night will be fearful."
Wamba seemed to feel the force of this appeal, and accompanied his 
companion, who began his journey after catching up a long quarter-staff 
which lay upon the grass beside him. This second Eumaeus strode hastily 
down the forest glade, driving before him, with the assistance of Fangs, 
the whole herd of his inharmonious charge.



Chapter 2

	A Monk there was, a fayre for the maistrie,
	An outrider that loved venerie;
	A manly man, to be an Abbot able,
	Full many a daintie horse had he in stable:
	And whan he rode, men might his bridle hear
	Gingeling in a whistling wind as dear,
	And eke as loud, as doth the chapell bell,
	There as this lord was keeper of the cen.
									Chaucer.


Notwithstanding the occasional exhortation and chiding of his companion, 
the noise of the horsemen's feet continuing to approach, Wamba could not be 
prevented from lingering occasionally on the road, upon every pretence 
which occurred; now catching from the hazel a cluster of half-ripe nuts, 
and now turning his head to leer after a cottage maiden who crossed their 
path. The horsemen, therefore, soon overtook them on the road.
Their numbers amounted to ten men, of whom the two who rode foremost seemed 
to be persons of considerable importance, and the others their attendants. 
It was not difficult to ascertain the condition and character of one of 
these personages. He was obviously an ecclesiastic of high rank; his dress 
was that of a Cistercian monk, but composed of materials much finer than 
those which the rule of that order admitted. His mantle and hood were of 
the best Flanders cloth, and fell in ample and not ungraceful folds, around 
a handsome, though somewhat corpulent person. His countenance bore as 
little the marks of self-denial, as his habit indicated contempt of worldly 
splendour. His features might have been called good, had there not lurked 
under the pent-house of his eye, that sly epicurean twinkle which indicates 
the cautious voluptuary. In other respects, his profession and situation 
had taught him a ready command over his countenance, which he could 
contract at pleasure into solemnity, although its natural expression was 
that of good-humoured social indulgence. In defiance of conventual rules, 
and the edicts of popes and councils, the sleeves of this dignitary were 
lined and turned up with rich furs, his mantle secured at the throat with a 
golden clasp, and the whole dress proper to his order as much refined upon 
and ornamented, as that of a Quaker beauty of the present day, who, while 
she retains the garb and costume of her sect, continues to give to its 
simplicity, by the choice of materials and the mode of disposing them, a 
certain air of coquettish attraction, savouring but too much of the 
vanities of the world.
This worthy churchman rode upon a well-fed ambling mule, whose furniture 
was highly decorated, and whose bridle, according to the fashion of the 
day, was ornamented with silver bells. ln his seat he had nothing of the 
awkwardness of the convent, but displayed the easy and habitual grace of a 
well-trained horseman. Indeed, it seemed that so humble a conveyance as 
mule, in however good case, and however well broken to a pleasant and 
accommodating amble, was only used by the gallant monk for travelling on 
the road. A lay brother, one of those who followed in the train, had, for 
his use on other occaiions, one of the most handsome Spanish jennets ever 
bred in Andalusia, which merchants used at that time to import, with great 
trouble and risk, for the use of persons of wealth and distinction. The 
saddle and housings of this superb palfrey were covered by a long foot-
cloth which reached nearly to the ground, and on which were richly 
embroidered mitres, crosses, and other ccclesiastical emblems. Another lay 
brother led a sumpter mule, loaded probably with his superior's baggage; 
and two monks of his own order, of inferior station, rode together in the 
rear, laughing and conversing with each other, without taking much notice 
of the other members of the cavalcade.
The companion of the church dignitary was a man past forty, thin, strong, 
tall, and muscular; an athletic figure, which long fatigue and constant 
exercise seemed to have left none of the softer part of the human form, 
having reduced the whole to brawn, bones, and sinews, which had sustained a 
thousand toils, and were ready to dare a thousand more. His head was 
covered with a scarlet cap, faced with fur-of that kind which the French 
call mortier, from its resemblance to the shape of an inverted mortar. His 
countenance was therefore fully displayed, and its expression was 
calculated to impress a degree of awe, if not of fear, upon strangers. High 
features, naturally strong and powerfully expressive, had been burnt almost 
into negro blackness by constant exposure to the tropical sun, and might, 
in their ordinary state, be said to slumber after the storm of passion had 
passed away; but the projection of the veins of the forehead, the readiness 
with which the upper lip and its thick black moustaches quivered upon the 
slightest emotion, plainly intimated that the tempest might be again and 
easily awakened. His keen, piercing, dark eyes, told in every glance a 
history of difficulties subdued, and dangers dared, and seemed to challenge 
opposition to bis wishes, for the pleasure of sweeping it from his road by 
a determined exertion of courage and of will; a deep scar on his brow gave 
additional sternness to his countenance, and a sinister expression to one 
of his eyes, which had been slightly injured on the same occasion, and of 
which the vision, though perfect, was in a slight and partial degree 
distorted.
The upper dress of this personage resembled that of his companion in shape, 
being a long monastic mantle; but the colour being scarlet, showed that he 
did not belong to any of the four regular orders of monks. On the right 
shoulder of the mantle there was cut, in white cloth, a cross of a peculiar 
form. This upper robe concealed what at first view seemed rather 
inconsistent with its form, a shirt, namely, of linked mail, with sleeves 
and gloves of the same, curiously plaited and interwoven, as flexible to 
the body as those which are now wrought in the stocking loom out of less 
obdurate materials. The fore-part of his thighs, where the folds of his 
mantle permitted them to be seen, were also covered with linked mail; the 
knees and feet were defended by splints, or thin plates of steel, 
ingeniously jointed upon each other; and mail hose, reaching from the ankle 
to the knee, effectually protected the legs, and completed the rider's 
defensive armour. In his girdle he wore a long and double-edged dagger, 
which was the only offensive weapon about his person.
He rode not a mule, like his companion, but a strong hackney for the road, 
to save his gallant war-horse, which a squire led behind, fully accoutred 
for battle, with a chamfron or plaited head-piece upon his head, having a 
short spike projecting from the front. On one side of the saddle hung a 
short battle-axe, richly inlaid with Damascene carving; on the other the 
rider's plumed head-piece and hood of mail, with a long two-handed sword, 
used by the chivalry of the period. A second squire held aloft his master's 
lance, from the extremity of which fluttered a small banderole, or 
streamer, bearing a cross of the same form with that embroidered upon his 
cloak. He also carried his small triangular shield, broad enough at the top 
to protect the breast, and from thence diminishing to a point. It was 
covered with a scarlet cloth, which prevented the device from being seen.
These two squires were followed by two attendants, whose dark visages, 
white turbans, and the Oriental form of their garments, showed them to be 
natives of some distant Eastern country. The whole appearance of this 
warrior and his retinue was wild and outlandish; the dress of his squires 
was gorgeous, and his Eastern attendants wore silver collars round their 
throats, and bracelets of the same metal upon their swarthy legs and arms, 
of which the latter were naked from the elbow, and the former from mid-leg 
to ankle. Silk and embroidery distinguished their dresses, and marked the 
wealth and importance of their master; forming, at the same time, a 
striking contrast with the martial simplicity of his own attire. They were 
armed with crooked sabres, having the hilt and baldric inlaid with gold, 
and matched with Turkish daggers of yet more costly workmanship. Each of 
them bore at his saddle-bow a bundle of darts or javelins, about four feet 
in length, having sharp steel heads, a weapon much in use among the 
Saracens, and of which the memory is yet preserved in the martial exercise 
called el jerrid, still practised in the Eastern countries.
The steeds of these attendants were in appearance as foreign as their 
riders. They were of Saracen origin, and consequently of Arabian descent; 
and their fine slender limbs, small fetlocks, thin manes, and easy springy 
motion, formed a marked contrast with the largejointed heavy horses, of 
which the race was cultivated in Flanders and in Normandy, for mounting the 
men-at-arms of the period in all the panoply of plate and mail; and which, 
placed by the side of those Eastern coursers, might have passed for a 
personification of substance and of shadow.
The singular appearance of this cavalcade not only attracted the curiosity 
of Wamba, but excited even that of his less volatile companion. The monk he 
instantly knew to be the Prior of Jorvaulx Abbey, well known for many miles 
around as a lover of the chase, of the banquet, and, if fame did him not 
wrong, of other worldly pleasures still more inconsistent with his monastic 
vows.
Yet so loose were the ideas of the times respecting the conduct of the 
clergy, whether secular or regular, that the Prior Aymer maintained a fair 
character in the neighbourhood of his abbey. His free and jovial temper, 
and the readiness with which he granted absolution from all ordinary 
delinquencies, rendered him a favourite among the nobility and principal 
gentry, to several of whom he was allied by birth, being of a distinguished 
Norman family. The ladies, in particular, were not disposed to scan too 
nicely the morals of a man who was a professed admirer of their sex, and 
who possessed many means of dispelling the ennui which was too apt to 
intrude upon the halls and bowers of an ancient feudal castle. The Prior 
mingled in the sports of the field with more than due eagerness, and was 
allowed to possess the best trained hawks, and the fleetest greyhounds in 
the North Riding - circumstances which strongly recommended him to the 
youthful gentry. With the old, he had another part to play, which, when 
needful, he could sustain with great decorum. His knowledge of books, 
however superficial, was sufficient to impress upon their ignorance respect 
for his supposed learning; and the gravity of his deportment and language, 
with the high tone which he exerted in setting forth the authority of the 
Church and of the priesthood, impressed them no less with an opinion of his 
sanctity. Even the common people, the severest critics of the conduct of 
their betters, had commiseration with the follies of Prior Aymer. He was 
generous; and charity, as it is well known, covereth a multitude of sins, 
in another sense than that in which it is said to do so in Scripture. The 
revenues of the monastery, of which a large part was at his disposal, while 
they gave him the means of supplying his own very considerable expenses, 
afforded also those largesses which he bestowed among the peasantry, and 
with which he frequently relieved the distresses of the oppressed. If Prior 
Aymer rode hard in the chase, or remained long at the banquet, if Prior 
Aymer was seen, at the early peep of dawn, to enter the postern of the 
abbey, as he glided home from some rendezvous which had occupied the hours 
of darkness, men only shrugged up their shoulders, and reconciled 
themselves to his irregularities, by recollecting that the same were 
practised by many of his brethren who had no redeeming qualities whatsoever 
to atone for them. Prior Aymer, therefore, and his character, were well 
known to our Saxon serfs, who made their rude obeisance, and received his 
"Benedicite, mes filz," in return.
But the singular appearance of his companion and his attendants arrested 
their attention and excited their wonder, and they could scarcely attend to 
the Prior of Jorvaulx' question, when he demanded if they knew of any place 
of harbourage in the vicinity; so much were they surprised at the half-
monastic, half-military appearance of the swarthy stranger, and at the 
uncouth dress and arms of his Eastern attendants. It is probable, too, that 
the language in which the benediction was conferred, and the information 
asked, sounded ungracious, though not probably unintelligible, in the ears 
of the Saxon peasants.
"I asked you, my children," said the Prior, raising his voice, and using 
the lingua Franca, or mixed language, in which the Norman and Saxon races 
conversed with each other, "if there be in this neighbourhood any good man, 
who, for the love of God and devotion to Mother Church, will give two of 
her humblest servants, with their train, a night's hospitality and 
refreshment?"
This he spoke with a tone of conscious importance, which formed a strong 
contrast to the modest terms which he thought it proper to employ.
"Two of the humblest servants of Mother Church!" repeated Wamba to himself, 
but, fool as he was, taking care not to make his observation audible; "I 
should like to see her seneschals, her chief butlers, and her other 
principal domestics!"
After this internal commentary on the Prior's speech, he raised his eyes, 
and replied to the question which had been put.
"If the reverend fathers," he said, "loved good cheer and soft lodging, few 
miles of riding would carry them to the Priory of Brinxworth, where their 
quality could not but secure them the most honourable reception; or, if 
they preferred spending a penitential evening, they might turn down yonder 
wild glade, which would bring them to the hermitage of Copmanhurst, where a 
pious anchoret would make them sharers for the night of the shelter of his 
roof and the benefit of his prayers."
The Prior shook his head at both proposals.
" Mine honest friend," said he, "If the jangling of thy bells had not 
dizzied thine understanding, thou mightest have known Clericus clericum non 
decimat; that is to say, we churchmen do not exhaust each other's 
hospitality, but rather require that of the laity, giving them thus an 
opportunity to serve God in honouring and relieving His appointed 
servants."
" It is true," replied Wamba, "that I, being but an ass, am, nevertheless, 
honoured to bear the bells as well as your reverence's mule; 
notwithstanding, I did conceive that the charity of Mother Church and her 
servants might be said, with other charity, to begin at home."
"A truce to thine insolence, fellow," said the armed rider, breaking in on 
his prattle with a high and stern voice, "and tell us, if thou canst, the 
road to - How call'd you your Franklin, Prior Aymer? "
"Cedric," answered the Prior; - "Cedric the Saxon.-Tell me, good fellow, 
are we near his dwelling, and can you show us the road? "
"The road will be uneasy to find," answered Gurth, who broke silence for 
the first time, " and the family of Cedric retire early to rest."
"Tush, tell not me, fellow," said the military rider; "'tis easy for them 
to arise and supply the wants of travellers such as we are, who will not 
stoop to beg the hospitality which we have a right to command."
"I know not," said Gurth sullenly, "if I should show the way to my master's 
house, to those who demand as a right, the shelter which most are fain to 
ask as a favour."
'~Do you dispute with me, slave?" said the soldier; and, setting spurs to 
his horse, he caused him make a demivolte across the path, raising at the 
same time the riding rod which he held in his hand, with a purpose of 
chastising what he considered as the insolence of the peasant.
Gurth darted at him a savage and revengeful scowl, and with a fierce, yet 
hesitating motion, laid his hand on the haft of his knife; but the 
interference of Prior Aymer, who pushed his mule betwixt his companion and 
the swineherd, prevented the meditated violence.
"Nay, by St. Mary, brother Brian, you must not think you are now in 
Palestine, predominating over heathen Turks and infidel Saracens; we 
islanders love not blows, save those of holy Cburch, who chasteneth whom 
she loveth.-Tell me, good fellow," said he to Wamba, and seconded his 
speech by a small piece of silver coin, "the way to Cedric the Saxon's; you 
cannot be ignorant of it, and it is your duty to direct the wanderer even 
when his character is less sanctified than ours."
"In truth, venerable father," answered the Jester, "the Saracen head of 
your right reverend companion has frightened out of mine the way home: I am 
not sure I shall get there tonight myself"
"Tush," said the Abbot, "thou canst tell us if thou wilt. This reverend 
brother has been all his life engaged in fighting among the Saracens for 
the recovery of the Holy Sepulchre; he is of the order of Knights Templars, 
whom you may have heard of; he is half a monk, half a soldier. '
"If he is but half a monk," said the Jester, he should not be wholly 
unreasonable with those whom he meets upon the road, even if they should be 
in no hurry to answer questions that no way concern them." "I forgive thy 
wit," replied the Abbot, "on condition thou wilt show me the way to 
Cedric's mansion."
" Well, then," answered Wamba, " your reverences must hold on this path 
till you come to a sunken cross, of which scarce a cubit's length remains 
above ground; then take the path to the left, for there are four which meet 
at Sunken Cross, and I trust your reverences will obtain shelter before the 
storm comes on."
The Abbot thanked his sage adviser; and the cavalcade, setting spurs to 
their horses, rode on as men do who wish to reach their inn before the 
bursting of a night-storm.
As their horses' hoofs died away, Gurth said to his companion, "If they 
follow thy wise direction, the reverend fathers will hardly reach 
Rotherwood this night."
"No," said the Jester, grinning, " but they may reach Sheffield, if they 
have good luck, and that is as fit a place for them. I am not so bad a 
woodsman as to show the dog where the deer lies, if I have no mind he 
should chase him."
"Thou art right," said Gurth; "it were ill that Aymer saw the Lady Rowena; 
and it were worse, it may be, for Cedric to quarrel, as is most likely he 
would, with this military monk. But, like good servants, let us hear and 
see, and say nothing."
We return to the riders, who had soon left the bondsmen far behind them, 
and who maintained the following conversation in the Norman-French 
language, usually employed by the superior classes, with the exception of 
the few who were still inclined to boast their Saxon descent.
"What mean these fellows by their capricious insolence?" said the Templar 
to the Benedictine, "and why did you prevent me from chastising it? "
"Marry, brother Brian," replied the Prior, " touching the one of them, it 
were hard for me to render a reason for a fool speaking according to his 
folly; and the other churl is of that savage, fierce, intractable race, 
some of whom, as I have often told you, are still to be found among the 
descendants of the conquered Saxons, and whose supreme pleasure it is to 
testify, by all means in their power, their aversion to their conquerors."
"I would soon have beat him into courtesy," observed Brian; " I am 
accustomed to deal with such spirits. Our Turkish captives are as fierce 
and intractable as Odin himself could have been; yet two months in my 
household, under the management of my master of the slaves, has made them 
humble, submissive, serviceable, and observant of your will. Marry, sir, 
you must beware of the poison and the dagger; for they use either with free 
will when you give them the slightest opportunity."
" Ay, but," answered Prior Aymer, "every land has its own manners and 
fashions; and, besides that beating this fellow could procure us no 
information respecting the road to Cedric's house, it would have been sure 
to have established a quarrel betwixt you and him had we found our way 
thither. Remember what I told you; this wealthy Franklin is proud, fierce, 
jealous, and irritable; a withstander of the nobility, and even of his 
neighbours, Reginald Front-de-Bceuf, and Philip Malvoisin, who are no babes 
to strive with. He stands up so sternly for the privileges of his race, and 
is so proud of his uninterrupted descent from Hereward, a renowned champion 
of the Heptarchy, that he is universally called Cedric the Saxon; and makes 
a boast of his belonging to a people from whom many others endeavour to 
hide their descent, lest they should encounter a share of the vae victis, 
or severities imposed upon the vanquished."
"Prior Aymer," said the Templar, "you are a man of gallantry, learned in 
the study of beauty, and as expert as a troubadour in all matters 
concerning the arrets of love; but I shall expect much beauty in this 
celebrated Rowena, to counterbalance the self-denial and forbearance which 
I must exert, if I am to court the favour of such a seditious churl as you 
have described her father Cedric."
" Cedric is not her father," replied the Prior, "and is but of remote 
relation; she is descended from higher blood than even he pretends to, and 
is but distantly connected with him by birth. Her guardian, however, he is, 
self-constituted as I believe; but his ward is as dear to him as if she 
were his own child. Of her beauty you shall soon be judge; and if the 
purity of her complexion, and the majestic, yet soft expression of a mild 
blue eye, do not chase from your memory the blacktressed girls of 
Palestine, ay, or the houris of old Mahound's paradise, I am an infidel, 
and no true son of the Church."
" Should your boasted beauty," said the Templar, " be weighed in the 
balance and found wanting, you know our wager? "
" My gold collar," answered the Prior, "against ten butts of Chian wine; 
they are mine as securely as if they were already in the convent vaults, 
under the key of old Dennis the cellarer.
"And I am myself to be the judge," said the Templar, "and am only to be 
convicted on my own admission, that I have seen no maiden so beautiful 
since Pentecost was a twelvemonth. Ran it not so? Prior, your collar is in 
danger; I will wear it over my gorget in the lists of Ashby-de-la-Zouche."
"Win it fairly," said the Prior, "and wear it as ye will; I will trust your 
giving true response, on your word as a knight and as a churchman. Yet, 
brother, take my advice, and file your tongue to a little more courtesy 
than your habits of predominating over infidel captives and Eastern 
bondsmen have accustomed you. Cedric the Saxon, if offended - and he is no 
way slack in taking offence - is a man who, without respect to your 
knighthood, my high office, or the sanctity of either, would clear his 
house of us, and send us to lodge with the larks, though the hour were 
midnight. And be careful how you look on Rowena, whom he cherishes with the 
most jealous care; an he take the least alarm in that quarter, we are but 
lost men. It is said he banished his only son from his family for lifting 
his eyes in the way of affection towards this beauty, who may be 
worshipped, it seems, at a distance, but is not to be approached with other 
thoughts than such as we bring to the shrine of the Blessed Virgin."
" Well, you have said enough," answered the Templar; " I will for a night 
put on the needful restraint, and deport me as meekly as a maiden; but as 
for the fear of his expelling us by violence, myself and squires, with 
Hamet and Abdalla, will warrant you against that disgrace. Doubt not that 
we shall be strong enough to make good our quarters."
"We must not let it come so far," answered the Prior; " but here is the 
clown's sunken cross, and the night is so dark that we can hardly see which 
of the roads we are to follow. He bid us turn, I think, to the left."
"To the right" said Brian, " to the best of my remembrance."
"To the left, certainly, the left; I remember his pointing with his wooden 
sword."
"Ay, but he held his sword in his left hand, and so pointed across his body 
with it," said the Templar.
Each maintained his opinion with sufficient obstinacy, as is usual in all 
such cases; the attendants were appealed to, but they had not been near 
enough to hear Wamba's directions. At length Brian remarked, what had at 
first escaped him in the twilight - "Here is some one either asleep, or 
Iying dead at the foot of this cross. Hugo, stir him with the butt-end of 
thy lance."
This was no sooner done than the figure arose, exclaiming in good French, " 
Whosoever thou art, it is discourteous in you to disturb my thoughts."
"We did but wish to ask you," said the Prior, "the road to Rotherwood, the 
abode of Cedric the Saxon."
" I myself am bound thither," replied the stranger; "and if I had a horse, 
I would be your guide, for the way is somewhat intricate, though perfectly 
well known to me. '
Thou shalt have both thanks and reward, my friend," said the Prior, "if 
thou wilt bring us to Cedric's in safety."
And he caused one of his attendants to mount his own led horse, and give 
that upon which he had hitherto ridden to the stranger who was to serve for 
a guide.
Their conductor pursued an opposite road from that which Wamba had 
recommended for the purpose of misleading them. The path soon led deeper 
into the woodland, and crossed more than one brook, the approach to which 
was rendered perilous by the marshes through which it flowed; but the 
stranger seemed to know, as if by instinct, the soundest ground and the 
safest points of passage; and by dint of caution and attention, brought the 
party safely into a wilder avenue than any they had yet seen; and, pointing 
to a large low irregular building at the upper extremity, he said to the 
Prior, "Yonder is Rotherwood, the dwelling of Cedric the Saxon."
This was a joyful intimation to Aymer, whose nerves were none of the 
strongest, and who had suffered such agitation and alarm in the course of 
passing through the dangerous bogs, that he had not yet had the curiosity 
to ask his guide a single question. Finding himself now at his ease and 
near shelter, his curiosity began to awake, and he demanded of the guide 
who and what he was.
"A Palmer, just returned from the Holy Land," was the answer.
"You had better have tarried there to fight for the recovery of the Holy 
Sepulchre," said the Templar.
"True, Reverend Sir Knight," answered the Palmer, to whom the appearance of 
the Templar seemed perfectly familiar, " but when those who are under oath 
to recover the holy city, are found travelling at such a distance from the 
scene of their duties, can you wonder that a peaceful peasant like me 
should decline the task which they have abandoned?"
The Templar would have made an angry reply, but was interrupted by the 
Prior, who again expressed his astonishment, that their guide, after such 
long absence, should be so perfectly acquainted with the passes of the 
forest.
"I was born a native of these parts," answered their guide, and as he made 
the reply they stood before the mansion of Cedric - a low irregular 
building, containing several courtyards or enclosures, extending over a 
considerable space of ground, and which, though its size argued the 
inhabitant to be a person of wealth, differed entirely from the tall, 
turreted, and castellated buildings in which the Norman nobility resided, 
and which had become the universal style of architecture throughout 
England.
Rotherwood was not, however, without defences; no habitation, in that 
disturbed period, could have been so, without the risk of being plundered 
and burnt before the next morning. A deep fosse, or ditch, was drawn round 
the whole building and filled with water from a neighbouring stream. A 
double stockade, or palisade, composed of pointed beams, which the adjacent 
forest supplied, defended the outer and inner bank of the trench. There was 
an entrance from the west through the outer stockade, which communicated by 
a drawbridge, with a similar opening in the interior defences. Some 
precautions had been taken to place these entrances under the protection of 
projecting angles, by which they might be flanked in case of need by 
archers or slingers.
Before this entrance the Templar wound his horn loudly; for the rain, which 
had long threatened, began now to descend with great violence.


Chapter 3

	Then (sad relief!) from the bleak coast that hears
	The German Ocean roar, deep-blooming, strong,
	And yellow hair'd, the blue-eyed Saxon came. 										-- Thomson's 
Liberty.


In a hall, the height of which was greatly disproportioned to its extreme 
length and width, a long oaken table, formed of planks rough-hewn from the 
forest, and which had scarcely received any polish, stood ready prepared 
for the evening meal of Cedric the Saxon. The roof, composed of beams and 
rafters, had nothing to divide the apartment from the sky excepting the 
planking and thatch; there was a huge fireplace at either end of the hall, 
but as the chimneys were constructed in a very clumsy manner, at least as 
much of the smoke found its way into the apartment as escaped by the proper 
vent. The constant vapour which this occasioned, had polished the rafters 
and beams of the low-browed hall, by encrusting them with a black varnish 
of soot. On the sides of the apartment hung implements of war and of the 
chase, and there were at each corner folding doors, which gave access to 
other parts of the extensive building.
The other appointments of the mansion partook of the rude simplicity of the 
Saxon period, which Cedric piqued himself upon maintaining. The floor was 
composed of earth mixed with lime, trodden into a hard substance, such as 
is often employed in flooring our modern barns. For about one quarter of 
the length of the apartment, the floor was raised by a step, and this 
space, which was called the dais, was occupied only by the principal 
members of the family, and visitors of distinction. For this purpose, a 
table richly covered with scarlet cloth was placed transversely across the 
platform, from the middle of which ran the longer and lower board, at which 
the domestics and inferior persons fed, down towards the bottom of the 
hall. The whole resembled the form of the letter T, or some of those 
ancient dinner-tables, which, arranged on the same principles, may be still 
seen in the antique Colleges of Oxford or Cambridge. Massive chairs and 
settles of carved oak were placed upon the dais, and over these seats and 
the more elevated table was fastened a canopy of cloth, which served in 
some degree to protect the dignitaries who occupied that distinguished 
station from the weather, and especially from the rain, which in some 
places found its way through the ill-constructed roof.
The walls of this upper end of the hall, as far as the dais extended, were 
covered with hangings or curtains, and upon the floor there was a carpet, 
both of which were adorned with some attempts at tapestry, or embroidery, 
executed with brilliant or rather gaudy colouring. Over the lower range of 
table, the roof, as we have noticed, had no covering; the rough plastered 
walls were left bare, and the rude earthen floor was uncarpeted; the board 
was uncovered by a cloth, and rude massive benches supplied the place of 
chairs.
In the centre of the upper table were placed two chairs more elevated than 
the rest, for the master and mistress of the family, who presided over the 
scene of hospitality, and from doing so derived their Saxon title of 
honour, which signifies "the Dividers of Bread."
To each of these chairs was added a footstool, curiously carved and inlaid 
with ivory, which mark of distinction was peculiar to them. One of these 
seats was at present occupied by Cedric the Saxon, who, though but in rank 
a thane, or, as the Normans called him, a franklin, felt, at the delay of 
his evening meal, an irritable impatience, which might have become an 
alderman, whether of ancient or of modern times.
It appeared, indeed, from the countenance of this proprietor, that he was 
of a frank, but hasty and choleric temper. He was not above the middle 
stature, but broad-shouldered, longarmed, and powerfully made, like one 
accustomed to endure the fatigue of war or of the chase; his face was 
broad, with large blue eyes, open and frank features, fine teeth, and a 
wellformed head, altogether expressive of that sort of good humour which 
often lodges with a sudden and hasty temper. Pride and jealousy there was 
in his eye, for his life had been spent in asserting rights which were 
constantly liable to invasion; and the prompt, fiery, and resolute 
disposition of the man, had been kept constantly upon the alert by the 
circumstances of his situation. His long yellow hair was equally divided on 
the top of his head and upon his brow, and combed down on each side to the 
length of his shoulders: it had but little tendency to grey, although 
Cedric was approaching to his sixtieth year.
His dress was a tunic of forest green, furred at the throat and cuffs with 
what was called minever; a kind of fur inferior in quality to ermine, and 
formed, it is believed, of the skin of the grey squirrel. This doublet hung 
unbuttoned over a close dress of scarlet which sate tight to his body; he 
had breeches of the same, but they did not reach below the lower part of 
the thigh, leaving the knee exposed. His feet had sandals of the same 
fashion with the peasants, but of finer materials, and secured in the front 
with golden clasps. He had bracelets of gold upon his arms, and a broad 
collar of the same precious metal around his neck. About his waist he wore 
a richly studded belt, in which was stuck a short straight two-edged sword, 
with a sharp point, so disposed as to hang almost perpendicularly by his 
side. Behind his seat was hung a scarlet cloth cloak lined with fur, and a 
cap of the same materials richly embroidered, which completed the dress of 
the opulent landholder when he chose to go forth. A short boar-spear, with 
a broad and bright steel head, also reclined against the back of his chair, 
which served him, when he walked abroad, for the purposes of a staff or of 
a weapon, as chance might require.
Several domestics, whose dress held various proportions betwixt the 
richness of their master's, and the coarse and simple attire of Gurth the 
swineherd, watched the looks and waited the commands of the Saxon 
dignitary. Two or three servants of a superior order stood behind their 
master upon the dais; the rest occupied the lower part of the hall. Other 
attendants there were of a different description; two or three large and 
shaggy greyhounds, such as were then employed in hunting the stag and wolf; 
as many slow-hounds of a large bony breed with thick necks, large heads, 
and long ears; and one or two of the smaller dogs, now called terriers, 
which waited with impatience the arrival of the supper; but with the 
sagacious knowledge of physiognomy peculiar to their race, forbore to 
intrude upon the moody silence of their master, apprehensive probably of a 
small white truncheon which lay by Cedric's trencher, for the purpose of 
repelling the advances of his fourlegged dependants. One grisly old wolf-
dog alone, with the liberty of an indulged favourite, had planted himself 
close by the chair of state, and occasionally ventured to solicit notice by 
putting his large hairy head upon his master's knee, or pushing his nose 
into his hand. Even he was repelled by the stern command, " Down, Balder, 
down! I am not in the humour for foolery."
In fact, Cedric, as we have observed, was in no very placid State of mind. 
The Lady Rowena, who had been absent to attend an evening mass at a distant 
church, had but just returned, and was changing her garments, which had 
been wetted by the storm. There was as yet no tidings of Gurth and his 
charge, which should long since have been driven home from the forest; and 
such was the insecurity of the period, as to render it probable that the 
delay might be explained by some depredation of the outlaws, with whom the 
adjacent forest abounded, or by the violence of some neighbouring baron, 
whose consciousness of strength made him equally negligent of the laws of 
property. The matter was of consequence, for great part of the domestic 
wealth of the Saxon proprietors consisted in numerous herds of swine, 
especially in forestland, where those animals easily found their food.
Besides these subjects of anxiety, the Saxon thane was impatient for the 
presence of his favourite clown Wamba, whose jests, such as they were, 
served for a sort of seasoning to his evening meal, and to the deep 
draughts of ale and wine with which he was in the habit of accompanying it. 
Add to all this, Cedric had fasted since noon, and his usual supper hour 
was long past, a cause of irritation common to country squires, both in 
ancient and modern times. His displeasure was expressed in broken 
sentences, partly muttered to himself, partly addressed to the domestics 
who stood aroand; and particularly to his cupbearer, who offered him from 
time to time, as a sedative, a silver goblet filled with wine - "Why 
tarries the Lady Rowena?"
"She is but changing her head-gear," replied a female attendant, with as 
much confidence as the favourite lady's-maid usually answers the master of 
a modern family; "you would not wish her to sit down to the banquet in her 
hood and kirtle? and no lady within the shire can be quicker in arraying 
herself than my mistress."
This undeniable argument produced a sort of acquiescent umph! on the part 
of the Saxon, with the addition, " I wish her devotion may choose fair 
weather for the next visit to St. John's kirk. But what, in the name of ten 
devils," continued he, turning to the cupbearer, and raising his voice as 
if happy to have found a channel into which he might divert his indignation 
without fear or control - "what, in the name of ten devils, keeps Gurth so 
long a-field? I suppose we shall have an evil account of the herd; he was 
wont to be a faithful and cautious drudge, and I had destined him for 
something better; perchance I might even have made him one of my warders."
Oswald the cupbearer modestly suggested, "that it was scarce an hour since 
the tolling of the curfew" - an ill-chosen apology, since it turned upon a 
topic so harsh to Saxon ears.
"The foul fiend," exclaimed Cedric, "take the curfew-bell, and the 
tyrannical bastard by whom it was devised, and the heartless slave who 
names it with a Saxon tongue to a Saxon ear! The curfew! "he added, 
pausing, "ay, the curfew; which compels true men to extinguish their 
lights, that thieves and robbers may work their deeds in darkness! - "Ay, 
the curfew! Reginald Front-de-Bceuf and Philip de Malvoisin know the use of 
the curfew as well as William the Bastard himself, or e'er a Norman 
adventurer that fought at Hastings. I shall hear, I guess, that my property 
has been swept off to save from starving the hungry banditti, whom they 
cannot support but by theft and robbery. My faithful slave is murdered, and 
my goods are taken for a prey; and Wamba - where is Wamba? Said not some 
one he had gone forth with Gurth?"
Oswald replied in the affirmative.
"Ay! why, this is better and better! he is carried off too, the Saxon fool, 
to serve the Norman lord. Fools are we all indeed that serve them, and 
fitter subjects for their scorn and laughter, than if we were born with but 
half our wits. But I will be avenged," he added, starting from his chair in 
impatience at the supposed injury, and catching hold of his boarspear; "I 
will go with my complaint to the great council; I have friends, I have 
followers; man to man will I appeal the Norman to the lists; let him come 
in his plate and his mail, and all that can render cowardice bold; I have 
sent such a javelin as this through a stronger fence than three of their 
war shields! Haply they think me old; but they shall find, alone and 
childless as I am, the blood of Hereward is in the veins of Cedric. Ah, 
Wilfred, Wilfred!" he exclaimed in a lower tone, "could'st thou have ruled 
thine unreasonable passion, thy father had not been left in his age like 
the solitary oak that throws out its shattered and unprotected branches 
against the full sweep of the tempest!" The reflection seemed to conjure 
into sadness his irritated feelings. Replacing his javelin, he resumed his 
seat, bent his looks downward, and appeared to be absorbed in melancholy 
reflection.
From his musing Cedric was suddenly awakened by the blast of a horn, which 
was replied to by the clamorous yells and barking of all the dogs in the 
hall, and some twenty or thirty which were quartered in other parts of the 
building. It cost some exercise of the white truncheon, well seconded by 
the exertions of the domestics, to silence this canine clamour.
"To the gate, knaves!" said the Saxon hastily, as soon as the tumult was so 
much appeased that the dependants could hear his voice. "See what tidings 
that horn tells us of: to announce, I ween, some hership and robbery which 
has been done upon my lands."
Returning in less than three minutes, a warder announced, "That the Prior 
Aymer of Jorvaulx, and the good knight Brian de Bois-Guilbert, commander of 
the valiant and venerable order of Knights Templars, with a small retinue, 
requested hospitality and lodging for the night, being on their way to a 
tournament which was to be held not far from Ashby-de-la-Zouche, on the 
second day from the present."
"Aymer, the Prior Aymer! Brian de Bois-Guilbert!" muttered Cedric - 
"Normans both; but Norman or Saxon, the hospitality of Rotherwood must not 
be impeached; they are welcome, since they have chosen to halt; more 
welcome would they have been to have ridden farther on their way. But it 
were unworthy to murmur for a night's lodgings and a night's food; in the 
quality of guests, at least even Normans must suppress their insolence. Go, 
Hundebert," he added, to a sort of major-domo who stood behind him with a 
white wand; "take six of the attendants, and introduce the strangers to the 
guests' lodging. Look after their horses and mules, and see their train 
lack nothing. Let them have change of vestments if they require it, and 
fire, and water to wash, and wine and ale; and bid the cooks add what they 
hastily can to our evening meal; and let it be put on the board when those 
strangers are ready to share it. Say to them, Hundebert, that Cedric would 
himself bid them welcome, but he is under a vow never to step more than 
three steps from the dais of his own hall to meet any who shares not the 
blood of Saxon royalty. Begone! see them carefully tended; let them not say 
in their pride, the Saxon churl has shown at once his poverty and his 
avarice."
The major-domo departed with several attendants, to execute his master's 
commands. " The Prior Aymer!" repeated Cedric, looking to Oswald, "the 
brother, if I mistake not, of Giles de Mauleverer, now lord of Middleham?"
Oswald made a respectful sign of assent. "His brother sits in the seat, and 
usurps the patrimony, of a better race, the race of Ulfgar of Middleham; 
but what Norman lord doth not the same? This Prior is, they say, a free and 
jovial priest, who loves the wine-cup and the bugle-horn better than bell 
and book: good; let him come, he shall be welcome. How named ye the 
Templar? "
"Brian de Bois-Guilbert."
"Bois-Guilbert! said Cedric, still in the musing, half-arguing tone, which 
the habit of living among dependants had accustomed him to employ, and 
which resembled a man who talks to himself rather than to those around him -
 "Bois-Guilbert! that name has been spread wide both for good and evil. 
They say he is valiant as the bravest of his order; but stained with their 
usual vices, pride, arrogance, cruelty, and voluptuousness; a hard-hearted 
man, who knows neither fear of earth, nor awe of heaven. So say the few 
warriors who have returned from Palestine. Well; it is but for one night; 
he shall be welcome too. Oswald, broach the oldest wine-cask; place the 
best mead, the mightiest ale, the richest morat, the most sparkling cider, 
the most odoriferous pigments, upon the board; fill the largest horns: 
Templars and Abbots love good wines and good measure. Elgitha, let thy Lady 
Rowena know we shall not this night expect her in the hall, unless such be 
her especial pleasure."
"But it will be her especial pleasure," answered Elgitha, with great 
readiness, "for she is ever desirous to hear the latest news from 
Palestine."
Cedlic darted at the forward damsel a glance of hasty resentment; but 
Rowena, and whatever belonged to her, were privileged and secure from his 
anger. He only replied, "Silence, maiden; thy tongue outruns thy 
discretion. Say my message to thy mistress, and let her do her pleasure. 
Here, at least, the descendant of Alfred still reigns a princess."
Elgitha left the apartment.
" Palestine!" repeated the Saxon; "Palestine! how many ears are turned to 
the tales which dissolute crusaders, or hypocritical pilgrims, bring from 
that fatal land! I too might ask - I too might inquire - I too might listen 
with a beating heart to fables which the wily strollers devise to cheat us 
into hospitality; But no - the son who has disobeyed me is no longer mine; 
nor will I concern myself more for his fate than for that of the most 
worthless among the millions that ever shaped the cross on their shoulder, 
rushed into excess and blood-guiltiness, and called it an accomplishment of 
the will of God."
He knit his brows, and fixed his eyes for an instant on the ground; as he 
raised them, the folding doors at the bottom of the hall were cast wide, 
and, preceded by the major-domo with his wand, and four domestics bearing 
blazing torches, the guests of the evening entered the apartment.




Chapter 4

		With sheep and shaggy goats the porkers bled,
		And the proud steer was on the marble spread;
		With fire prepared, they deal the morsels round,
		Wine rosy bright the brimming goblets crown'd.

					..........

		Disposed apart, Ulysses shares the treat;
		A trivet table and ignobler seat,
		The Prince assigns ----
									Odyssey, Book 21.



THE Prior Aymer had taken the opportunity afforded him of changing his 
riding robe for one of yet more costly materials, over which he wore a cope 
curiously embroidered. Besides the massive golden signet ring, which marked 
his ecclesiastical dignity, his fingers, though contrary to the canon, were 
loaded with precious gems; his sandals were of the finest leather which was 
imported from Spain; his beard trimmed to as small dimensions as his order 
would possibly permit, and his shaven crown concealed by a scarlet cap 
richly embroidered.
The appearance of the Knight Templar was also changed; and, though less 
studiously bedecked with ornament, his dress was as rich, and his 
appearance far more commanding, than that of his companion. He had 
exchanged his shirt of mail for an under tunic of dark purple silk, 
garnished with furs, over which flowed his long robe of spotless white in 
ample folds. The eight-pointed cross of his order was cut on the shoulder 
of his mantle in black velvet. The high cap no longer invested his brows, 
which were only shaded by short and thick curled hair of a raven blackness, 
corresponding to his unusually swart complexion. Nothing could be more 
gracefully majestic than his step and manner, had they not been marked by a 
predominant air of haughtiness, easily acquired by the exercise of 
unresisted authority.
These two dignified persons were followed by their respective attendants, 
and at a more humble distance by their guide, whose figure had nothing more 
remarkable than it derived from the usual weeds of a pilgrim. A cloak or 
mantle of coarse black serge, enveloped his whole body. It was in shape 
something like the cloak of a modern hussar, having similar flaps for 
covering the arms, and was called a Sclaveyn, or Sclavonian. Coarse 
sandals, bound with thongs, on his bare feet; a broad and shadowy hat, with 
cockle-shells stitched on its brim, and a long staff shod with iron, to the 
upper end of which was attached a branch of palm, completed the Palmer's 
attire. He followed modestly the last of the train which entered the hall, 
and, observing that the lower table scarce afforded room sufficient for the 
domestics of Cedric and the retinue of his guests, he withdrew to a settle 
placed beside and almost under one of the large chimneys, and seemed to 
employ himself in drying his garments, until the retreat of some one should 
make room at the board, or the hospitality of the steward should supply him 
with refreshments in the place he had chosen apart.
Cedric rose to receive his guests with an air of dignified hospitality, and 
descending from the dais, or elevated part of his hall, made three steps 
towards them, and then awaited their approach.
"I grieve," he said, "reverend Prior, that my vow binds me to advance no 
farther upon this floor of my fathers, even to receive such guests as you, 
and this valiant Knight of the Holy Temple. But my steward has expounded to 
you the cause of my seeming discourtesy. Let me also pray, that you will 
excuse my speaking to you in my native language, and that you will reply in 
the same if your knowledge of it permits; if not, I sufficiently understand 
Norman to follow your meaning."
"Vows," said the Abbot, " must be unloosed, worthy Franklin, or permit me 
rather to say, worthy Thane, though the title is antiquated. Vows are the 
knots which tie us to Heaven - they are the cords which bind the sacrifice 
to the horns of the altar - and are therefore, as I said before, to be 
unloosened and discharged, unless our holy Mother Church shall pronounce 
the contrary. And respecting language, I willingly hold communication in 
that spoken by my respected grandmother, Hilda of Middleham, who died in 
odour of sanctity, little short, if we may presume to say so, of her 
glorious namesake, the blessed Saint Hilda of Whitby - God be gracious to 
her soul!"
When the Prior had ceased what he meant as a conciliatory harangue, his 
companion said, briefly and emphatically, " I speak ever French, the 
language of King Richard and his nobles; but I understand English 
sufficiently to communicate with the natives of the country."
Cedric darted at the speaker one of those hasty and impatient glances, 
which comparisons between the two rival nations seldom failed to call 
forth; but, recollecting the duties of hospitality, he suppressed further 
show of resentment, and, motioning with his hand, caused his guests to 
assume two seats a little lower than his own, but placed close beside him, 
and gave a signal that the evening meal should be placed upon the board.
While the attendants hastened to obey Cedric's commands, his eye 
distinguished Gurth the swineherd, who, with his companion Wamba, had just 
entered the hall. "Send these loitering knaves up hither," said the Saxon 
impatiently. And when the culprits came before the dais - "How comes it, 
villains, that ye have loitered abroad so late as this? Hast thou brought 
home thy charge, sirrah Gurth, or hast thou left them to robbers and 
marauders?"
"The herd is safe, so please ye," said Gurth.
"But it does not please me, thou knave," said Cedric, " that I should be 
made to suppose otherwise for two hours, and sit here devising vengeance 
against my neighbours for wrongs they have not done me. I tell thee, 
shackles and the prison.house shall punish the next offence of this kind."
Gurth, knowing his master's irritable temper, attempted no exculpation; but 
the Jester, who could presume upon Cedric's tolerance, by virtue of his 
privileges as a fool, replied for them both: " In troth, uncle Cedric, you 
are neither wise nor reasonable tonight."
"How, sir?" said his master; " you shall to the porter's lodge, and taste 
of the discipline there, if you give your foolery such licence."
"First let your wisdom tell me," said Wamba, "is it just and reasonable to 
punish one person for the fault of another?"
"Certainly not, fool," answered Cedric.
"Then why should you shackle poor Gurth, uncle, for the fault of his dog 
Fangs? for I dare be sworn we lost not a minute by the way when we had got 
our herd together, which Fangs did not manage until we heard the vesper-
bell."
"Then hang up Fangs," said Cedric, turning hastily towards the swineherd, " 
if the fault is his, and get thee another dog."
"Under favour, uncle," said the Jester, "that were still somewhat on the 
bow-hand of fair justice; for it was no fault of Fangs that he was lame and 
could not gather the herd, but the fault of those that struck off two of 
his fore-claws, an operation for which, if the poor fellow had been 
consulted, he would scarce have given his voice."
"And who dared to lame an animal which belonged to my bondsman?" said the 
Saxon, kindling in wrath.
" Marry, that did old Hubert," said Wamba, " Sir Philip de Malvoisin's 
keeper of the chase. He caught Fangs strolling in the forest, and said he 
chased the deer contrary to his master's right, as warden of the walk."
"The foul fiend take Malvoisin," answered the Saxon, "and his keeper both! 
I will teach them that the wood was disforested in terms of the great 
Forest Charter. But enough of this. Go to, knave, - go to thy place; and 
thou, Gurth, get thee another dog, and should the keeper dare to touch it, 
I will mar his archery; the curse of a coward on my head, if I strike not 
off the forefinger of his right hand! he shall draw bowstring no more. I 
crave your pardon, my worthy guests. I am beset here with neighbours that 
match your infidels, Sir Knight, in Holy Land. But your homely fare is 
before you; feed, and let welcome make amends for hard fare."
The feast, however, which was spread upon the board, needed no apologies 
from the lord of the mansion. Swine's flesh, dressed in several modes, 
appeared on the lower part of the board, as also that of fowls, deer, 
goats, and hares, and various kinds of fish, together with huge loaves, and 
cakes of bread, and sundry confections made of fruits and honey. The 
smaller sorts of wild-fowl, of which there was abundance, were not served 
up in platters, but brought in upon small wooden spits or broaches, and 
offered by the pages and domestics who bore them to each guest in 
succession, who cut from them such a portion as he pleased. Beside each 
person of rank was placed a goblet of silver; the lower board was 
accommodated with large drinking horns.
When the repast was about to commence, the major-domo, or steward, suddenly 
raising his wand, said aloud - "Forbear! Place for the Lady Rowena." A side-
door at the upper end of the hall now opened behind the banquet-table, and 
Rowena, followed by four female attendants, entered the apartment. Cedric, 
though surprised, and perhaps not altogether agreeably so, at his ward 
appearing in public on this occasion, hastened to meet her, and to conduct 
her, with respectful ceremony, to the elevated seat at his own right hand, 
appropriated to the lady of the mansion. All stood up to receive her; and, 
replying to their courtesy by a mute gesture of salutation, she moved 
gracefully forward to assume her place at the board. Ere she had time to do 
so, the Templar whispered to the Prior, "I shall wear no collar of gold of 
yours at the tournament. The Chian wine is your own."
" Said I not so," answered the Prior; " but check your raptures, the 
Franklin observes you."
Unheeding this remonstrance, and accustomed only to act upon the immediate 
impulse of his own wishes, Brian de Bois-Guilbert kept his eyes riveted on 
the Saxon beauty, more striking perhaps to his imagination, because 
differing widely from those of the Eastern sultanas.
Formed in the best proportions of her sex, Rowena was tall in stature, yet 
not so much so as to attract observation on a count of superior height. Her 
complexion was exquisitely fair, but the noble cast of her head and 
features prevented the insipidity which sometimes attaches to fair 
beauties. Her clear blue eye, which sate enshrined beneath a graceful 
eyebrow of brown, sufficiently marked to give expression to the forehead, 
seemed capable to kindle as well as melt, to command as well as to beseech. 
If mildness were the more natural expression of such a combination of 
features, it was plain, that in the present instance, the exercise of 
habitual superiority, and the reception of general homage, had given to the 
Saxon lady a loftier character, which mingled with, and qualified that 
bestowed by nature. Her profuse hair, of a colour betwixt brown and flaxen, 
was arranged in a fanciful and graceful manner in numerous ringlets, to 
form which art had probably aided nature. These locks were braided with 
gems, and being worn at full length, intimated the noble and free-born 
condition of the maiden. A golden chain, to which was attached a small 
reliquary of the same metal, hung round her neck. She wore bracelets on her 
arms, which were bare. Her dress was an under-gown and kirtle of pale sea-
green silk, over which hung a long loose robe, which reached to the ground, 
having very wide sleeves, which came down, however, very little below the 
elbow. This robe was crimson, and manufactured out of the very finest wool. 
A veil of silk, interwoven with gold, was attached to the upper part of it, 
which could be, at the wearer's pleasure, either drawn over the face and 
bosom after the Spanish fashion, or disposed as a sort of drapery round the 
shoulders.
When Rowena perceived the Knight Templar's eyes bent on her with an ardour 
that, compared with the dark caverns under which they moved, gave them the 
effect of lighted charcoal, she drew with dignity the veil around her face, 
as an intimation that the determined freedom of his glance was 
disagreeable. Cedric saw the motion and its cause. "Sir Templar," said he, 
"the cheeks of our Saxon maidens have seen too little of the sun to enable 
them to bear the fixed glance of a crusader."
"If I have offended," replied Sir Brian, "I crave your pardon - that is, I 
crave the Lady Rowena's pardon, for my humility will carry me no lower."
"The Lady Rowena," said the Prior, "has punished us all, in chastising the 
boldness of my friend. Let me hope she will be less cruel to the splendid 
train which are to meet at the tournament."
"Our going thither," said Cedric, "is uncertain. I love not these vanities, 
which were unknown to my fathers when England was free."
"Let us hope, nevertheless," said the Prior, "our company may determine you 
to travel thitherward; when the roads are so unsafe, the escort of Sir 
Brian de Bois-Guilbert is not to be despised."
"Sir Prior," answered the Saxon, "wheresoever I have travelled in this 
land, I have hitherto found myself, with the assistance of my good sword 
and faithful followers, in no respect needful of other aid. At present, if 
we need journey to Ashbyde-de-la-Zouche, we do so with my noble neighbour 
and countryman Athelstane of Coningsburgh, and with such a train as would 
set outlaws and feudal enemies at defiance. I drink to you, Sir Prior, in 
this cup of wine, which I trust your taste will approve, and I thank you 
for your courtesy. Should you be so rigid in adhering to monastic rule," he 
added, "as to prefer your acid preparation of milk, I hope you will not 
strain courtesy to do me reason."
"Nay," said the priest, laughing, "it is only in our abbey that we confine 
ourselves to the lac dulce or the lac acidum either. Conversing with the 
world, we use the world's fashions, and therefore I answer your pledge in 
this honest wine, and leave the weaker liquor to my lay-brother."
"And I," said the Templar, filling his goblet, "drink wassail to the fair 
Rowena; for since her namesake introduced the word into England, has never 
been one more worthy of such a tribute. By my faith, I could pardon the 
unhappy Vortigern, had he half the cause that we now witness, for making 
shipwreck of his honour and his kingdom."
"I will spare your courtesy, Sir Knight," said Rowena with dignity, and 
without unveiling herself; "or rather I will tax it so far as to require of 
you the latest news from Palestine, a theme more agreeable to our English 
ears than the compliments which your French breeding teaches."
"I have little of importance to say, lady," answered Sir Brian de Bois-
Guilbert, "excepting the confirmed tidings of a truce with Saladin."
He was interrupted by Wamba, who had taken his appropriated seat upon a 
chair, the back of which was decorated with two ass's ears, and which was 
placed about two steps behind that of his master, who, from time to time, 
supplied him with victuals from his own trencher; a favour, however, which 
the Jester shared with the favourite dogs, of whom, as we have already 
noticed, there were several in attendance. Here sat Wamba, with a small 
table before him, his heels tucked up against the bar of the chair, his 
cheeks sucked up so as to make his jaws resemble a pair of nut-crackers, 
and his eyes half-shut, yet watching with alertness every opportunity to 
exercise his licensed foolery.
"These truces with the infidels," he exclaimed, without caring how suddenly 
he interrupted the stately Templar, "make an old man of me!"
"Go to, knave, how so?" said Cedric, his features prepared to receive 
favourably the expected jest.
"Because, answered Wamba, "I remember three of them in my day, each of 
which was to endure for the course of fifty years; so that, by computation, 
I must be at least a hundred and fifty years old."
"I will warrant you against dying of old age, however," said the Templar, 
who now recognised his friend of the forest; " I will assure you from all 
deaths but a violent one, if you give such directions to wayfarers as you 
did this night to the Prior and me."
"How, sirrah!" said Cedric, "misdirect travellers? We must have you whipt; 
you are at least as much rogue as fool."
" I pray thee, uncle," answered the Jester, "let my folly, for once, 
protect my roguery. I did but make a mistake between my right hand and my 
left; and he might have pardoned a greater, who took a fool for his 
counsellor and guide."
Conversation was here interrupted by the entrance of the porter's page, who 
announced that there was a stranger at the gate, imploring admittance and 
hospitality.
"Admit him," said Cedric, "be he who or what he may: a night like that 
which roars without, compels even wild animals to herd with tame, and to 
seek the protection of man, their mortal foe, rather than perish by the 
elements. Let his wants be ministered to with all care; look to it, 
Oswald."
And the steward left the banqueting hall to see the commands of his patron 
obeyed.





Chapter 5

Hath not a Jew eyes? Hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, 
affections, passions? Fed with the same food, hurt with the same weapons, 
subject to the same diseases, healed by the same means, warmed and cooled 
by the same winter and summer, as a Christian is?
								Merchant of Venice.

Oswald, returning, whispered into the ear of his master, "It is a Jew, who 
calls himself Isaac of York; is it fit I should marshal him into the hall?"
"Let Gurth do thine office, Oswald," said Wamba with his usual effrontery; 
"the swineherd will be a fit usher to the Jew."
"St Mary," said the Abbot, crossing himself, "an unbelieving Jew, and 
admitted into this presence!"
"A dog Jew," echoed the Templar, "to approach a defender of the Holy 
Sepulchre?"
"By my faith," said Wamba, "it would seem the Templars love the Jews' 
inheritance better than they do their company."
"Peace, my worthy guests," said Cedric; "my hospitality must not be bounded 
by your dislikes. If Heaven bore with the whole nation of stiff-necked 
unbelievers for more years than a layman can number, we may endure the 
presence of one Jew for a few hours. But I constrain no man to converse or 
to feed with him. - Let him have a board and a morsel apart, - unless," he 
said smiling, "these turbaned strangers will admit his society."
"Sir Franklin," answered the Templar, "my Saracen slaves are true Moslems, 
and scorn as much as any Christian to hold intercourse with a Jew."
"Now, in faith," said Wamba, "I cannot see that the worshippers of Mahound 
and Termagaunt have so greatly the advantage over the people once chosen of 
Heaven."
"He shall sit with thee, Wamba," said Cedric; "the fool and the knave will 
be well met."
"The fool," answered Wamba, raising the relics of a gammon of bacon, "will 
take care to erect a bulwark against the knave."
"Hush," said Cedric, "for here he comes."
Introduced with little ceremony, and advancing with fear and hesitation, 
and many a bow of deep humility, a tall thin old man, who, however, had 
lost by the habit of stooping much of his actual height, approached the 
lower end of the board. His features, keen and regular, with an aquiline 
nose, and piercing black eyes; his high and wrinkled forehead, and long 
grey hair and beard, would have been considered as handsome, had they not 
been the marks of a physiognomy peculiar to a race, which, during those 
dark ages, was alike detested by the credulous and prejudiced vulgar, and 
persecuted by the greedy and rapacious nobility, and who, perhaps, owing to 
that very hatred and persecution, had adopted a national character, in 
which there was much, to say the least, mean and unamiable.
The Jew's dress, which appeared to have suffered considerably from the 
storm, was a plain russet cloak of many folds, covering a dark purple 
tunic. He had large boots lined with fur, and a belt around his waist, 
which sustained a small knife, together with a case for writing materials, 
but no weapon. He wore a high square yellow cap of a peculiar fashion, 
assigned to his nation to distinguish them from Christians, and which he 
doffed with great humility at the door of the hall.
The reception of this person in the ball of Cedric the Saxon, was such as 
might have satisfied the most prejudiced enemy of the tribes of Israel. 
Cedric himself coldly nodded in answer to the Jew's repeated salutations, 
and signed to him to take place at the lower end of the table, where, 
however, no one offered to make room for him. On the contrary, as he passed 
along the file, casting a timid supplicating glance, and turning towards 
each of those who occupied the lower end of the board, the Saxon domestics 
squared their shoulders, and continued to devour their supper with great 
perseverance, paying not the least attention to the wants of the new guest. 
The attendants of the Abbot crossed themselves, with looks of pious horror, 
and the very heathen Saracens, as Isaac drew near them, curled up their 
whiskers with indignation, and laid their hands on their poniards, as if 
ready to rid themselves by the most desperate means from the apprehended 
contamination of his nearer approach.
Probably the same motives which induced Cedric to open his hall to this son 
of a rejected people, would have made him insist on his attendants 
receiving Isaac with more courtesy. But the Abbot had, at this moment, 
engaged him in a most interesting discussion on the breed and character of 
his favourite hounds, which he would not have interrupted for matters of 
much greater importance than that of a Jew going to bed supperless. While 
Isaac thus stood an outcast in the present society, like his people among 
the nations, looking in vain for welcome or resting place, the pilgrim who 
sat by the chimney took compassion upon him, and resigned his seat, saying 
briefly, "Old man, my garments are dried, my hunger is appeased, thou art 
both wet and fasting." So saying, he gathered together, and brought to a 
flame, the decaying brands which lay scattered on the ample hearth; took 
from the larger board a mess of pottage and seethed kid, placed it upon the 
small table at which he had himself supped, and, without waiting the Jew's 
thanks, went to the other side of the hall; - whether from unwillingness to 
hold more close communication with the object of his benevolence, or from a 
wish to draw near to the upper end of the table, seemed uncertain.
Had there been painters in those days capable to execute such a subject, 
the Jew, as he bent his withered form, and expanded his chilled and 
trembling hands over the fire, would have formed no bad emblematical 
personification of the Winter season. Having dispelled the cold, he turned 
eagerly to the smoking mess which was placed before him, and ate with a 
haste and an apparent relish, that seemed to betoken long abstinence from 
food.
Meanwhile the Abbot and Cedric continued their discourse upon hunting; the 
Lady Rowena seemed engaged in conversation with one of her attendant 
females; and the haughty Templar, whose eye wandered from the Jew to the 
Saxon beauty, revolved in his mind thoughts which appeared deeply to 
interest him.
"I marvel, worthy Cedric," said the Abbot, as their discourse proceeded, 
"that, great as your predilection is for your own manly language, you do 
not receive the Norman-French into your favour, so far at least as the 
mystery of wood-craft and hunting is concerned. Surely no tongue is so rich 
in the various phrases which the field-sports demand, or furnishes means to 
the experienced woodman so well to express his jovial art."
'Good Father Aymer," said the Saxon, "be it known to you, I care not for 
those over-sea refinements, without which I can well enough take my 
pleasure in the woods. I can wind my horn, though I call not the blast 
either a recheate or a morte - I can cheer my dogs on the prey, and I can 
flay and quarter the animal when it is brought down, without using the 
newfangled jargon of curee, arbor, nombles, and all the babble of the 
fabulous Sir Tristrem."
"The French," said the Templar, raising his voice with the presumptuous and 
authoritative tone which he used upon all occasions, "is not only the 
natural language of the chase, but that of love and of war, in which ladies 
should be won and enemies defied."
"Pledge me in a cup of wine, Sir Templar," said Cedric, "and fill another 
to the Abbot, while I look back some thirty years to tell you another tale. 
As Cedric the Saxon then was, his plain English tale needed no garnish from 
French troubadours, when it was told in the ear of beauty; and the field of 
Northallerton, upon the day of the Holy Standard, could tell whether the 
Saxon war-cry was not heard as far within the ranks of the Scottish host as 
the cri de guerre of the boldest Norman baron. To the memory of the brave 
who fought there! - Pledge me, my guests." He drank deep, and went on with 
increasing warmth. "Ay, that was a day of cleaving of shields, when a 
hundred banners were bent forwards over the heads of the valiant, and blood 
flowed round like water, and death was held better than flight. A Saxon 
bard had called it a feast of the swords - a gathering of the eagles to the 
prey - the clashing of bills upon shield and helmet, the shouting of battle 
more joyful than the clamour of a bridal. But our bards are no more," he 
said; "our deeds are lost in those of another race - our language - our 
very name - is hastening to decay, and none mourns for it save one solitary 
old man - Cup-bearer! knave, fill the goblets - To the strong in arms, Sir 
Templar, be their race or language what it will, who now bear them best in 
Palestine among the champions of the Cross!"
"It becomes not one wearing this badge to answer," said Sir Brian de Bois-
Guilbert; "yet to whom, besides the sworn Champions of the Holy Sepulchre, 
can the palm be assigned among the champions of the Cross?"
"To the Knights Hospitallers," said the Abbot; "I have a brother of their 
order."
"I impeach not their fame," said the Templar; "nevertheless - "
"I think, friend Cedric," said Wamba, interfering, "that had Richard of the 
Lion's Heart been wise enough to have taken a fool's advice, he might have 
staid at home with his merry Englishmen, and left the recovery of Jerusalem 
to those same Knights who had most to do with the loss of it."
"Were there, then, none in the English army," said the Lady Rowena, "whose 
names are worthy to be mentioned with the Knights of the Temple, and of St 
John?"
" Forgive me, lady," replied De Bois-Guilbert; "the English monarch did, 
indeed, bring to Palestine a host of gallant warriors, second only to those 
whose breasts have been the unceasing bulwark of that blessed land."
"Second to none," said the Pilgrim, who had stood near enough to hear, and 
had listened to this conversation with marked impatience. All turned toward 
the spot from whence this unexpected asseveration was heard. "I say," 
repeated the Pilgrim in a firm and strong voice, "that the English chivalry 
were second to none who ever drew sword in defence of the Holy Land. I say 
besides, for I saw it, that King Richard himself, and five of his knights, 
held a tournament after the taking of St John-de-Acre, as challengers 
against all comers. I say that, on that day, each knight ran three courses, 
and cast to the ground three antagonists. I add, that seven of these 
assailants were Knights of the Temple - and Sir Brian de Bois-Guilbert well 
knows the truth of what I tell you."
It is impossible for language to describe the bitter scowl of rage which 
rendered yet darker the swarthy countenance of the Templar. In the 
extremity of his resentment and confusion, his quivering fingers griped 
towards the handle of his sword, and perhaps only withdrew, from the 
consciousness that no act of violence could be safely executed in that 
place and presence. Cedric, whose feelings were all of a right onward and 
simple kind, and were seldom occupied by more than one object at once, 
omitted, in the joyous glee with which be heard of the glory of his 
countrymen, to remark the angry confusion of his guest; "I would give thee 
this golden bracelet, Pilgrim," he said, "couldst thou tell me the names of 
those knights who upheld so gallantly the renown of merry England."
"That will I do blithely," replied the Pilgrim, "and without guerdon; my 
oath, for a time, prohibits me from touching gold."
"I will wear the bracelet for you, if you will, friend Palmer," said Wamba.
"The first in honour as in arms, in renown as in place," said the Pilgrim, 
"was the brave Richard, King of England."
"I forgive him," said Cedric; "I forgive him his descent from the tyrant 
Duke William."
"The Earl of Leicester was the second," continued the Pilgrim; "Sir Thomas 
Multon of Gilsland was the third."
"Of Saxon descent, he at least," said Cedric, with exultation.
"Sir Foulk Doilly the fourth," proceeded the Pilgrim.
"Saxon also, at least by the mother's side," continued Cedric, who listened 
with the utmost eagerness, and forgot, in part at least, his hatred to the 
Normans, in the common triumph of the King of England and his islanders. 
"And who was the fifth?" he demanded.
"The fifth was Sir Edwin Turneham."
"Genuine Saxon, by the soul of Hengist!" shouted Cedric - "And the sixth?" 
he continued with eagerness - "how name you the sixth?"
"The sixth," said the Palmer, after a pause, in which he seemed to 
recollect himself, "was a young knight of lesser renown and lower rank, 
assumed into that honourable company, less to aid their enterprise than to 
make up their number - his name dwells not in my memory."
"Sir Palmer," said Sir Brian de Bois-Guilbert scornfully, "this assumed 
forgetfulness, after so much has been remembered, comes too late to serve 
your purpose. I will myself tell the name of the knight before whose lance 
fortune and my horse's fault occasioned my falling - it was the Knight of 
Ivanhoe; nor was there one of the six that, for his years, had more renown 
in arms. - Yet this will I say, and loudly - that were he in England, and 
durst repeat, in this week's tournament, the challenge of St John-de-Acre, 
I, mounted and armed as I now am, would give him every advantage of 
weapons, and abide the result."
"Your challenge would soon be answered," replied the Palmer, "were your 
antagonist near you. As the matter is, disturb not the peaceful hall with 
vaunts of the issue of the conflict, which you well know cannot take place. 
If Ivanhoe ever returns from Palestine, I will be his surety that he meets 
you."
"A goodly security!" said the Knight Templar; "and what do you proffer as a 
pledge?"
"This reliquary," said the Palmer, taking a small ivory box from his bosom, 
and crossing himself, "containing a portion of the true cross, brought from 
the Monastery of Mount Carmel."
The Prior of Jorvaulx crossed himself and repeated a pater noster, in which 
all devoutly joined, excepting the Jew, the Mahomedans, and the Templar; 
the latter of whom, without vailing his bonnet, or testifying any reverence 
for the alleged sanctity of the relic, took from his neck a gold chain, 
which he flung on the board, saying - "Let Prior Aymer hold my pledge and 
that of this nameless vagrant, in token that when the Knight of Ivanhoe 
comes within the four seas of Britain, he underlies the challenge of Brian 
de Bois-Guilbert, which, if he answer not, I will proclaim him as a coward 
on the walls of every Temple Court in Europe."
"It will not need," said the Lady Rowena, breaking silence; "My voice shall 
be heard, if no other in this hall is raised in behalf of the absent 
Ivanhoe. I affirm he will meet fairly every honourable challenge. Could my 
weak warrant add security to the inestimable pledge of this holy pilgrim, I 
would pledge name and fame that Ivanhoe gives this proud knight the meeting 
he desires."
A crowd of conflicting emotions seemed to have occupied Cedric, and kept 
him silent during this discussion. Gratified pride, resentment, 
embarrassment, chased each other over his broad and open brow, like the 
shadow of clouds drifting over a harvest-field; while his attendants, on 
whom the name of the sixth knight seemed to produce an effect almost 
electrical, hung in suspense upon their master's looks. But when Rowena 
spoke, the sound of her voice seemed to startle him from his silence.
"Lady," said Cedric, "this beseems not; were further pledge necessary, I 
myself, offended, and justly offended, as I am, would yet gage my honour 
for the honour of Ivanhoe. But the wager of battle is complete, even 
according to the fantastic fashions of Norman chivalry - Is it not, Father 
Aymer?"
"It is," replied the Prior; "and the blessed relic and rich chain will I 
bestow safely in the treasury of our convent, until the decision of this, 
warlike challenge."
Having thus spoken, he crossed himself again and again, and after many 
genuflections and muttered prayers, he delivered the reliquary to Brother 
Ambrose, his attendant monk, while he himself swept up with less ceremony, 
but perhaps with no less internal satisfaction, the golden chain, and 
bestowed it in a pouch lined with perfumed leather, which opened under his 
arm. "And now, Sir Cedric," he said, "my ears are chiming vespers with the 
strength of your good wine - permit us another pledge to the welfare of the 
Lady Rowena, and indulge us with liberty to pass to our repose."
"By the rood of Bromholme," said the Saxon, "you do but small credit to 
your fame, Sir Prior! Report speaks you a bonny monk, that would hear the 
matin chime ere he quitted his bowl; and, old as I am, I feared to have 
shame in encountering you. But, by my faith, a Saxon boy of twelve, in my 
time, would not so soon have relinquished his goblet."
The Prior had his own reasons, however, for persevering in the course of 
temperance which he had adopted. He was not only a professional peacemaker, 
but from practice a hater of all feuds and brawls. It was not altogether 
from a love to his neighbour, or to himself, or from a mixture of both. On 
the present occasion, he had an instinctive apprehension of the fiery 
temper of the Saxon, and saw the danger that the reckless and presumptuous 
spirit, of which his companion had already given so many proofs, might at 
length produce some disagreeable explosion. He therefore gently insinuated 
the incapacity of the native of any other country to engage in the genial 
conflict of the bowl with the hardy and strong-headed Saxons; something he 
mentioned, but slightly, about his own holy character, and ended by 
pressing his proposal to depart to repose.
The grace-cup was accordingly served round, and the guests, after making 
deep obeisance to their landlord and to the Lady Rowena, arose and mingled 
in the hall, while the heads of the family, by separate doors, retired with 
their attendants.
"Unbelieving dog," said the Templar to Isaac the Jew, as he passed him in 
the throng, "dost thou bend thy course to the tournament?"
"I do so propose," replied Isaac, bowing in all humility, "if it please 
your reverend valour."
"Ay," said the Knight, "to gnaw the bowels of our nobles with usury, and to 
gull women and boys with gauds and toys - I warrant thee store of shekels 
in thy Jewish scrap."
"Not a shekel, not a silver penny, not a halfling - so help me the God of 
Abraham!" said the Jew, clasping his hands; "I go but to seek the 
assistance of some brethren of my tribe to aid me to pay the fine which the 
Exchequer of the Jews have imposed upon me - Father Jacob be my speed! I am 
an impoverished wretch - the very gabardine I wear is borrowed from Reuben 
of Tadcaster."
The Templar smiled sourly as he replied, "Beshrew thee for a false-hearted 
liar!" and passing onward, as if disdaining farther conference, he communed 
with his Moslem slaves in a language unknown to the bystanders. The poor 
Israelite seemed so staggered by the address of the military monk, that the 
Templar had passed on to the extremity of the hall ere he raised his head 
from the humble posture which he had assumed, so far as to be sensible of 
his departure. And when he did look around, it was with the astonished air 
of one at whose feet a thunderbolt has just burst, and who hears still the 
astounding report ringing in his ears.
The Templar and Prior were shortly after marshalled to their sleeping 
apartments by the steward and the cupbearer, each attended by two 
torchbearers and two servants carrying refreshments, while servants of 
inferior condition indicated to their retinue and to the other guests their 
respective places of repose.


Chapter 6

			To buy his favour I extend this friendship:
			If he will take it, so; if not, adieu;
			And, for my love, I pray you wrong me not.
							-- Merchant of Venice.


As the Palmer, lighted by a domestic with a torch, past through the 
intricate combination of apartments of this large and irregular mansion, 
the cupbearer coming behind him whispered in his ear, that if he had no 
objection to a cup of good mead in his apartment, there were many domestics 
in that family who would gladly hear the news he had brought from the Holy 
Land, and particularly that which concerned the Knight of Ivanhoe. Wamba 
presently appeared to urge the same request, observing that a cup after 
midnight was worth three after curfew. Without disputing a maxim urged by 
such grave authority, the Palmer thanked them for their courtesy, but 
observed that he had included in his religious vow, an obligation never to 
speak in the kitchen on matters which were prohibited in the hall. "That 
vow," said Wamba to the cupbearer, "would scarce suit a serving-man."
The cupbearer shrugged up his shoulders in displeasure. "I thought to have 
lodged him in the solere chamber," said he; "but since he is so unsocial to 
Christians, e'en let him take the next stall to Isaac the Jew's. - Anwold," 
said he to the torchbearer, "carry the Pilgrim to the southern cell. - I 
give you good-night," he added, "Sir Palmer, with small thanks for short 
courtesy."
"Good-night, and Our Lady's benison," said the Palmer, with composure; and 
his guide moved forward.
In a small antechamber, into which several doors opened, and which was 
lighted by a small iron lamp, they met a second interruption from the 
waiting-maid of Rowena, who, saying in a tone of authority, that her 
mistress desired to speak with the Palmer, took the torch from the hand of 
Anwold, and, bidding him await her return, made a sign to the Palmer to 
follow. Apparently he did not think it proper to decline this invitation as 
he had done the former; for, though his gesture indicated some surprise at 
the summons, he obeyed it without answer or remonstrance.
A short passage, and an ascent of seven steps, each of which was composed 
of a solid beam of oak, led him to the apartment of the Lady Rowena, the 
rude magnificence of which corresponded to the respect which was paid to 
her by the lord of the mansion. The walls were covered with embroidered 
hangings, on which different-coloured silks, interwoven with gold and 
silver threads, had been employed with all the art of which the age was 
capable, to represent the sports of hunting and hawking. The bed was 
adorned with the same rich tapestry, and surrounded with curtains dyed with 
purple. The seats had also their stained coverings, and one, which was 
higher than the rest, was accommodated with a footstool of ivory, curiously 
carved.
No fewer than four silver candelabras, holding great waxen torches, served 
to illuminate this apartment. Yet let not modern beauty envy the 
magnificence of a Saxon princess. The walls of the apartment were so ill 
finished and so full of crevices, that the rich hangings shook in the night 
blast, and, in despite of a sort of screen intended to protect them from 
the wind, the flame of the torches streamed sideways into the air, like the 
unfurled pennon of a chieftain. Magnificence there was, with some rude 
attempt at taste; but of comfort there was little, and, being unknown, it 
was unmissed.
The Lady Rowena, with three of her attendants standing at her back, and 
arranging her hair ere she lay down to rest, was seated in the sort of 
throne already mentioned, and looked as if born to exact general homage. 
The Pilgrim acknowledged her claim to it by a low genuflection.
"Rise, Palmer," said she graciously. "The defender of the absent has a 
right to favourable reception from all who value truth, and honour 
manhood." She then said to her train, "Retire, excepting only Elgitha; I 
would speak with this holy Pilgrim."
The maidens, without leaving the apartment, retired to its further 
extremity, and sat down on a small bench against the wall, where they 
remained mute as statues, though at such a distance that their whispers 
could not have interrupted the conversation of their mistress.
"Pilgrim," said the lady, after a moment's pause, during which she seemed 
uncertain how to address him, "you this night mentioned a name - I mean," 
she said, with a degree of effort, "the name of Ivanhoe, in the halls where 
by nature and kindred it should have sounded most acceptably; and yet, such 
is the perverse course of fate, that of many whose hearts must have 
throbbed at the sound, I, only, dare ask you where, and in what condition, 
you left him of whom you spoke? - We heard, that, having remained in 
Palestine, on account of his impaired health, after the departure of the 
English army, he had experienced the persecution of the French faction, to 
whom the Templars are known to be attached."
"I know little of the Knight of Ivanhoe," answered the Palmer, with a 
troubled voice. "I would I knew him better, since you, lady, are interested 
in his fate. He hath, I believe, surmounted the persecution of his enemies 
in Palestine, and is on the eve of returning to England, where you, lady, 
must know better than I, what is his chance of happiness."
The Lady Rowena sighed deeply, and asked more particularly when the Knight 
of Ivanhoe might be expected in his native country, and whether he would 
not be exposed to great dangers by the road. On the first point, the Palmer 
professed ignorance; on the second, he said that the voyage might be safely 
made by the way of Venice and Genoa, and from thence through France to 
England. "Ivanhoe," he said, "was so well acquainted with the language and 
manners of the French, that there was no fear of his incurring any hazard 
during that part of his travels."
"Would to God," said the Lady Rowena, "he were here safely arrived, and 
able to bear arms in the approaching tourney, in which the chivalry of this 
land are expected to display their address and valour. Should Athelstane of 
Coningsburgh obtain the prize, Ivanhoe is like to hear evil tidings when he 
reaches England. - How looked he, stranger, when you last saw him? Had 
disease laid her hand heavy upon his strength and comeliness?"
"He was darker," said the Palmer, "and thinner, than when he came from 
Cyprus in the train of Coeur-de-Lion, and care seemed to sit heavy on his 
brow; but I approached not his presence, because he is unknown to me."
"He will," said the lady, "I fear, find little in his native land to clear 
those clouds from his countenance. Thanks, good Pilgrim, for your 
information concerning the companion of my childhood. - Maidens," she said, 
"draw near - offer the sleeping cup to this holy man, whom I will no longer 
detain from repose."
One of the maidens presented a silver cup, containing a rich mixture of 
wine and spice, which Rowena barely put to her lips. It was then offered to 
the Palmer, who, after a low obeisance, tasted a few drops.
"Accept this alms, friend," continued the lady, offering a piece of gold, 
"in acknowledgement of thy painful travail, and of the shrines thou hast 
visited."
The Palmer received the boon with another low reverence, and followed 
Edwina out of the apartment.
In the anteroom he found his attendant Anwold, who, taking the torch from 
the hand of the waiting-maid, conducted him with more haste than ceremony 
to an exterior and ignoble part of the building, where a number of small 
apartments, or rather cells, served for sleeping places to the lower order 
of domestics, and to strangers of mean degree.
"In which of these sleeps the Jew?" said the Pilgrim.
"The unbelieving dog," answered Anwold, kennels in the cell next your 
holiness. - St Dunstan, how it must be scraped and cleansed ere it be again 
fit for a Christian!"
"And where sleeps Gurth the swineherd?" said the stranger.
"Gurth," replied the bondsman, "sleeps in the cell on your right, as the 
Jew on that to your left; you serve to keep the child of circumcision 
separate from the abomination of his tribe. You might have occupied a more 
honourable place had you accepted of Oswald's invitation."
"It is as well as it is," said the Palmer; "the company, even of a Jew, can 
hardly spread contamination through an oaken partition."
So saying, he entered the cabin allotted to him, and taking the torch from 
the domestic's hand, thanked him, and wished him good-night. Having shut 
the door of his cell, he placed the torch in a candlestick made of wood, 
and looked around his sleeping apartment, the furniture of which was of the 
most simple kind. It consisted of a rude wooden stool, and still ruder 
hutch or bed-frame, stuffed with clean straw, and accommodated with two or 
three sheepskins by way of bed-clothes.
The Palmer, having extinguished his torch, threw himself, without taking 
off any part of his clothes, on this rude couch, and slept, or at least 
retained his recumbent posture, till the earliest sunbeams found their way 
through the little grated window, which served at once to admit both air 
and light to his uncomfortable cell. He then started up, and after 
repeating his matins, and adjusting his dress, he left it, and entered that 
of Isaac the Jew, lifting the latch as gently as he could.
The inmate was lying in troubled slumber upon a couch similar to that on 
which the Palmer himself had passed the night. Such parts of his dress as 
the Jew had laid aside on the preceding evening, were disposed carefully 
around his person, as if to prevent the hazard of their being carried off 
during his slumbers. There was a trouble on his brow amounting almost to 
agony. His hands and arms moved convulsively, as if struggling with the 
nightmare; and besides several ejaculations in Hebrew, the following were 
distinctly heard in the Norman-English, or mixed language of the country: 
"For the sake of the God of Abraham, spare an unhappy old man! I am poor, I 
am penniless - should your irons wrench my limbs asunder, I could not 
gratify you!"
The Palmer awaited not the end of the Jew's vision, but stirred him with 
his pilgrim's staff. The touch probably associated, as is usual, with some 
of the apprehensions excited by his dream; for the old man started up, his 
grey hair standing almost erect upon his head, and huddling some part of 
his garments about him, while he held the detached pieces with the 
tenacious grasp of a falcon, he fixed upon the Palmer his keen black eyes, 
expressive of wild surprise and of bodily apprehension.
"Fear nothing from me, Isaac," said the Palmer, "I come as your friend."
"The God of Israel requite you," said the Jew, greatly relieved; "I dreamed 
- But Father Abraham be praised, it was but a dream." Then, collecting 
himself, he added in his usual tone, "And what may it be your pleasure to 
want at so early an hour with the poor Jew?"
"It is to tell you," said the Palmer, "that if you leave not this mansion 
instantly, and travel not with some haste, your journey may prove a 
dangerous one."
"Holy father!" said the Jew, "whom could it interest to endanger so poor a 
wretch as I am?"
"The purpose you can best guess," said the Pilgrim; "but rely on this, that 
when the Templar crossed the hall yesternight, he spoke to his Mussulman 
slaves in the Saracen language, which I well understand, and charged them 
this morning to watch the journey of the Jew, to seize upon him when at a 
convenient distance from the mansion, and to conduct him to the castle of 
Philip de Malvoisin, or to that of Reginald Front-de-Boeuf."
It is impossible to describe the extremity of terror which seized upon the 
Jew at this information, and seemed at once to overpower his whole 
faculties. His arms fell down to his sides, and his head drooped on his 
breast, his knees bent under his weight, every nerve and muscle of his 
frame seemed to collapse and lose its energy, and he sunk at the foot of 
the Palmer, not in the fashion of one who intentionally stoops, kneels, or 
prostrates himself to excite compassion, but like a man borne down on all 
sides by the pressure of some invisible force, which crushes him to the 
earth without the power of resistance.
"Holy God of Abraham!" was his first exclamation, folding and elevating his 
wrinkled hands, but without raising his grey head from the pavement; "Oh, 
holy Moses! O, blessed Aaron! the dream is not dreamed for nought, and the 
vision cometh not in vain! I feel their irons already tear my sinews! I 
feel the rack pass over my body like the saws, and harrows, and axes of 
iron over the men of Rabbah, and of the cities of the children of Ammon!"
"Stand up, Isaac, and hearken to me," said the Palmer, who viewed the 
extremity of his distress with a compassion in which contempt was largely 
mingled; "you have cause for your terror, considering how your brethren 
have been used, in order to extort from them their hoards, both by princes 
and nobles; but stand up, I say, and I will point out to you the means of 
escape. Leave this mansion instantly, while its inmates sleep sound after 
the last night's revel. I will guide you by the secret paths of the forest, 
known as well to me as to any forester that ranges it, and I will not leave 
you till you are under safe conduct of some chief or baron going to the 
tournament, whose good-will you have probably the means of securing."
As the ears of Isaac received the hopes of escape which this speech 
intimated, he began gradually, and inch by inch, as it were, to raise 
himself up from the ground, until he fairly rested upon his knees, throwing 
back his long grey hair and beard, and fixing his keen black eyes upon the 
Palmer's face, with a look expressive at once of hope and fear, not 
unmingled with suspicion. But when he heard the concluding part of the 
sentence, his original terror appeared to revive in full force, and he 
dropped once more on his face, exclaiming, "I possess the means of securing 
good-will! alas! there is but one road to the favour of a Christian, and 
how can the poor Jew find it, whom extortions have already reduced to the 
misery of Lazarus?" Then, as if suspicion had overpowered his other 
feelings, he suddenly exclaimed, "For the love of God, young man, betray me 
not - for the sake of the Great Father who made us all, Jew as well as 
Gentile, Israelite and Ishmaelite - do me no treason! I have not means to 
secure the good-will of a Christian beggar, were he rating it at a single 
penny." As he spoke these last words, he raised himself, and grasped the 
Palmer's mantle with a look of the most earnest entreaty. The pilgrim 
extricated himself, as if there were contamination in the touch.
"Wert thou loaded with all the wealth of thy tribe," he said, "what 
interest have I to injure thee? - In this dress I am vowed to poverty, nor 
do I change it for aught save a horse and a coat of mail. Yet think not 
that I care for thy company, or propose myself advantage by it; remain here 
if thou wilt - Cedric the Saxon may protect thee."
"Alas!" said the Jew, "he will not let me travel in his train - Saxon or 
Norman will be equally ashamed of the poor Israelite; and to travel by 
myself through the domains of Philip de Malvoisin and Reginald Front-de-
Boeuf - Good youth, I will go with you! - Let us haste - let us gird up our 
loins - let us flee! - Here is thy staff, why wilt thou tarry?"
"I tarry not," said the Pilgrim, giving way to the urgency of his 
companion; "but I must secure the means of leaving this place - follow me."
He led the way to the adjoining cell, which, as the reader is apprised, was 
occupied by Gurth the swineherd. - "Arise, Gurth," said the Pilgrim, "arise 
quickly. Undo the postern gate, and let out the Jew and me."
Gurth, whose occupation, though now held so mean, gave him as much 
consequence in Saxon England as that of Eumaeus in Ithaca, was offended at 
the familiar and commanding tone assumed by the Palmer. "The Jew leaving 
Rotherwood," said he, raising himself on his elbow, and looking 
superciliously at him without quitting his pallet, "and travelling in 
company with the Palmer to boot - "
"I should as soon have dreamt," said Wamba, who entered the apartment at 
the instant, "of his stealing away with a gammon of bacon."
"Nevertheless," said Gurth, again laying down his head on the wooden log 
which served him for a pillow, "both Jew and Gentile must be content to 
abide the opening of the great gate - we suffer no visitors to depart by 
stealth at these unseasonable hours."
"Nevertheless," said the Pilgrim, in a commanding tone, "you will not, I 
think, refuse me that favour."
So saying, he stooped over the bed of the recumbent swineherd, and 
whispered something in his ear in Saxon. Gurth started up as if 
electrified. The Pilgrim, raising his finger in an attitude as if to 
express caution, added, "Gurth, beware - thou are wont to be prudent. I 
say, undo the postern - thou shalt know more anon."
With hasty alacrity Gurth obeyed him, while and the Jew followed, both 
wondering at the sudden change in the swineherd's demeanour. "My mule, my 
mule!" said the Jew, as soon as they stood without the postern.
"Fetch him his mule," said the Pilgrim; "and, hearest thou, - let me have 
another, that I may bear him company till he is beyond these parts - I will 
return it safely to some of Cedric's train at Ashby. And do thou" - he 
whispered the rest in Gurth's ear.
"Willingly, most willingly shall it be done," said Gurth, and instantly 
departed to execute the commission.
"I wish I knew," said Wamba, when his comrade's back was turned, "what you 
Palmers learn in the Holy Land."
"To say our orisons, fool," answered the Pilgrim, "to repent our sins, and 
to mortify ourselves with fastings, vigils, and long prayers."
"Something more potent than that," answered the Jester; "for when would 
repentance or prayer make Gurth do a courtesy, or fasting or vigil persuade 
him to lend you a mule? - l trow you might as well have told his favourite 
black boar of thy vigils and penance, and wouldst have gotten as civil an 
answer."
"Go to," said the Pilgrim, "thou art but a Saxon fool."
"Thou sayst well." said the Jester; "had I been born a Norman, as I think 
thou art, I would have had luck on my side, and been next door to a wise 
man."
At this moment Gurth appeared on the opposite side of the moat with the 
mules. The travellers crossed the ditch upon a drawbridge of only two 
planks breadth, the narrowness of which was matched with the straitness of 
the postern, and with a little wicket in the exterior palisade, which gave 
access to the forest. No sooner had they reached the mules, than the Jew, 
with hasty and trembling hands, secured behind the saddle a small bag of 
blue buckram, which he took from under his cloak, containing, as be 
muttered, "a change of raiment - only a change of raiment." Then getting 
upon the animal with more alacrity and haste than could have been 
anticipated from his years, he lost no time in so disposing of the skirts 
of his gabardine as to conceal completely from observation the burden which 
he had thus deposited en croupe.
The Pilgrim mounted with more deliberation, reaching, as he departed, his 
hand to Gurth, who kissed it with the utmost possible veneration. The 
swineherd stood gazing after the travellers until they were lost under the 
boughs of the forest path, when he was disturbed from his reverie by the 
voice of Wamba.
"Knowest thou," said the Jester, "my good friend Gurth, that thou art 
strangely courteous and most unwontedly pious on this summer morning? I 
would I were a black Prior or a barefoot Palmer, to avail myself of thy 
unwonted zeal and courtesy - certes, I would make more out of it than a 
kiss of the hand."
"Thou art no fool thus far, Wamba," answered Gurth, "though thou arguest 
from appearances, and the wisest of us can do no more - But it is time to 
look after my charge."
So saying, he turned back to the mansion, attended by the Jester.
Meanwhile the travellers continued to press on their journey with a 
dispatch which argued the extremity of the Jew's fears, since persons at 
his age are seldom fond of rapid motion, The Palmer, to whom every path and 
outlet in the wood appeared to be familiar, led the way through the most 
devious paths, and more than once excited anew the suspicion of the 
Israelite, that he intended to betray him into some ambuscade of his 
enemies.
His doubts might have been indeed pardoned; for, except perhaps the flying 
fish, there was no race existing on the earth, in the air, or the waters, 
who were the object of such an unintermitting, general, and relentless 
persecution as the Jews of this period. Upon the slightest and most 
unreasonable pretences, as well as upon accusations the most absurd and 
groundless, their persons and property were exposed to every turn of 
popular fury; for Norman, Saxon, Dane, and Briton, however adverse these 
races were to each other, contended which should look with greatest 
detestation upon a people, whom it was accounted a point of religion to 
hate, to revile, to despise, to plunder, and to persecute. The kings of the 
Norman race, and the independent nobles, who followed their example in all 
acts of tyranny, maintained against this devoted people a persecution of a 
more regular, calculated, and self-interested kind. It is a well-known 
story of King John, that he confined a wealthy Jew in one of the royal 
castles, and daily caused one of his teeth to be torn out, until, when the 
jaw of the unhappy Israelite was half disfurnished, he consented to pay a 
large sum, which it was the tyrant's object to extort from him. The little 
ready money which was in the country was chiefly in possession of this 
persecuted people, and the nobility hesitated not to follow the example of 
their sovereign, in wringing it from them by every species of oppression, 
and even personal torture. Yet the passive courage inspired by the love of 
gain, induced the Jews to dare the various evils to which they were 
subjected, in consideration of the immense profits which they were enabled 
to realise in a country naturally so wealthy as England. In spite of every 
kind of discouragement, and even of the special court of taxations already 
mentioned, called the Jews' Exchequer, erected for the very purpose of 
despoiling and distressing them, the Jews increased, multiplied, and 
accumulated huge sums, which they transferred from one hand to another by 
means of bills of exchange - an invention for which commerce is said to be 
indebted to them, and which enabled them to transfer their wealth from land 
to land, that when threatened with oppression in one country, their 
treasure might be secured in another.
The obstinacy and avarice of the Jews being thus in a measure placed in 
opposition to the fanaticism that tyranny of those under whom they lived, 
seemed to increase in proportion to the persecution with which they were 
visited; and the immense wealth they usually acquired in commerce, while it 
frequently placed them in danger, was at other times used to extend their 
influence, and to secure to them a certain degree of protection. On these 
terms they lived; and their character, influenced accordingly, was 
watchful, suspicious, and timid - yet obstinate, uncomplying, and skilful 
in evading the dangers to which they were exposed.
When the travellers had pushed on at a rapid rate through many devious 
paths, the Palmer at length broke silence.
"That large decayed oak," he said, "marks the boundaries over which Front-
de-Boeuf claims authority - we are long since far from those of Malvoisin. 
There is now no fear of pursuit."
"May the wheels of their chariots be taken off," said the Jew, "like those 
of the host of Pharaoh, that they may drive heavily! - But leave me not, 
good Pilgrim - Think but of that fierce and savage Templar, with his 
Saracen slaves - they will regard neither territory, nor manor, nor 
lordship."
"Our road," said the Palmer, "should here separate; for it beseems not men 
of my character and thine to travel together longer than needs must be. 
Besides, what succour couldst thou have from me, a peaceful Pilgrim, 
against two armed heathens?"
"O good youth," answered the Jew, "thou canst defend me, and I know thou 
wouldst. Poor as I am, I will requite it - not with money, for money, so 
help me my Father Abraham, I have none - but - "
"Money and recompense," said the Palmer, interrupting him, "I have already 
said I require not of thee. Guide thee I can; and, it may be, even in some 
sort defend thee; since to protect a Jew against a Saracen, can scarce be 
accounted unworthy of a Christian. Therefore, Jew, I will see thee safe 
under some fitting escort. We are now not far from the town of Sheffield, 
where thou mayst easily find many of thy tribe with whom to take refuge."
"The blessing of Jacob be upon thee, good youth!" said the Jew; "in 
Sheffield I can harbour with my kinsman Zareth, and find some means of 
travelling forth with safety."
"Be it so," said the Palmer; "at Sheffield then we part, and half-an-hour's 
riding will bring us in sight of that town."
The half hour was spent in perfect silence on both parts; the Pilgrim 
perhaps disdaining to address the Jew, except in case of absolute 
necessity, and the Jew not presuming to force a conversation with a person 
whose journey to the Holy Sepulchre gave a sort of sanctity to his 
character. They paused on the top of a gently rising bank, and the Pilgrim, 
pointing to the town of Sheffield, which lay beneath them, repeated the 
words, "Here, then, we part."
"Not till you have had the poor Jew's thanks," said Isaac; "for I presume 
not to ask you to go with me to my kinsman Zareth's, who might aid me with 
some means of repaying your good offices."
"I have already said," answered the Pilgrim, "that I desire no recompense. 
If among the huge list of thy debtors, thou wilt, for my sake, spare the 
gyves and the dungeon to some unhappy Christian who stands in thy danger, I 
shall hold this morning's service to thee well bestowed."
"Stay, stay," said the Jew, laying hold of his garment; "something would I 
do more than this, something for thyself. - God knows the Jew is poor - 
yes, Isaac is the beggar of his tribe - but forgive me should I guess what 
thou most lackest at this moment."
"If thou wert to guess truly," said the Palmer, "it is what thou canst not 
supply, wert thou as wealthy as thou sayst thou art poor.'
"As I say?" echoed the Jew; "O! believe it, I say but the truth; I am a 
plundered, indebted, distressed man. Hard hands have wrung from me my 
goods, my money, my ships, and all that I possessed - Yet I can tell thee 
what thou lackest, and, it may be, supply it too. Thy wish even now is for 
a horse and armour."
The Palmer started, and turned suddenly towards the Jew: - "What fiend 
prompted that guess?" said he, hastily.
"No matter," said the Jew, smiling, "so that it be a true one - and, as I 
can guess thy want, so I can supply it."
"But consider," said the Palmer, "my character, my dress, my vow."
"I know you Christians," replied the Jew, "and that the noblest of you will 
take the staff and sandal in superstitious penance, and walk afoot to visit 
the graves of dead men."
"Blaspheme not, Jew," said the Pilgrim, sternly.
"Forgive me," said the Jew; "I spoke rashly. But there dropped words from 
you last night and this morning, that, like sparks from flint, showed the 
metal within; and in the bosom of that Palmer's gown, is hidden a knight's 
chain and spurs of gold. They glanced as you stooped over my bed in the 
morning."
The Pilgrim could not forbear smiling. "Were thy garments searched by as 
curious an eye, Isaac," said he, "what discoveries might not be made?"
"No more of that," said the Jew, changing colour; and drawing forth his 
writing materials in haste, as if to stop the conversation, he began to 
write upon a piece of paper which he supported on the top of his yellow 
cap, without dismounting from his mule. When he had finished, he delivered 
the scroll, which was in the Hebrew character, to the Pilgrim, saying, "In 
the town of Leicester all men know the rich Jew, Kirjath Jairam of 
Lombardy; give him this scroll - he hath on sale six Milan harnesses, the 
worst would suit a crowned head - ten goodly steeds, the worst might mount 
a king, were he to do battle for his throne. Of these he will give thee thy 
choice, with every thing else that can furnish thee forth for the 
tournament: when it is over, thou wilt return them safely - unless thou 
shouldst have wherewith to pay their value to the owner."
"But, Isaac," said the Pilgrim, smiling, "dost thou know that in these 
sports, the arms and steed of the knight who is unhorsed are forfeit to his 
victor? Now I may be unfortunate, and so lose what I cannot replace or 
repay."
The Jew looked somewhat astounded at this possibility; but collecting his 
courage, he replied hastily. "No - no - no - It is impossible - I will not 
think so. The blessing of Our Father will be upon thee. Thy lance will be 
powerful as the rod of Moses."
So saying, he was turning his mule's head away, when the Palmer, in his 
turn, took hold of his gabardine. "Nay, but Isaac, thou knowest not all the 
risk. The steed may be slain, the armour injured - for I will spare neither 
horse nor man. Besides, those of thy tribe give nothing for nothing; 
something there must be paid for their use."
The Jew twisted himself in the saddle, like a man in a fit of the colic; 
but his better feelings predominated over those which were most familiar to 
him. "I care not," he said, "I care not - let me go. If there is damage, it 
will cost you nothing - if there is usage money, Kirjath Jairam will 
forgive it for the sake of his kinsman Isaac. Fare thee well! - Yet hark 
thee, good youth," said he, turning about, "thrust thyself not too forward 
into this vain hurly-burly - I speak not for endangering the steed, and 
coat of armour, but for the sake of thine own life and limbs."
"Gramercy for thy caution," said the Palmer, again smiling; "I will use thy 
courtesy frankly, and it will go hard with me but I will requite it."
They parted, and took different roads for the town of Sheffield.


Chapter 7

	Knights, with a long retinue of their squires,
	In gaudy liveries march and quaint attires;
	One laced the helm, another held the lance,
	A third the shining buckler did advance.
	The courser paw'd the ground with restless feet,
	And snorting foam'd and champ'd the golden bit.
	The smiths and armourers on palfreys ride,
	Files in their hands, and hammers at their side;
	And nails for loosen'd spears, and thongs for shields provide.
	The yeomen guard the streets in seemly bands;
	And clowns come crowding on, with cudgels in their hands.
									-- Palamon and Arcite.

The condition of the English nation was at this time sufficiently 
miserable. King Richard was absent a prisoner, and in the power of the 
perfidious and cruel Duke of Austria. Even the very place of his captivity 
was uncertain, and his fate but very imperfectly known to the generality of 
his subjects, who were, in the meantime, a prey to every species of 
subaltern oppression.
Prince John, in league with Philip of France, Coeur-de-Lion's mortal enemy, 
was using every species of influence with the Duke of Austria, to prolong 
the captivity of his brother Richard, to whom he stood indebted for so many 
favours. In the meantime, he was strengthening his own faction in the 
kingdom, of which he proposed to dispute the succession, in case of the 
King's death, with the legitimate heir, Arthur Duke of Brittany, son of 
Geoffrey Plantagenet, the elder brother of John. This usurpation, it is 
well known, he afterwards effected. His own character being light, 
profligate, and perfidious, John easily attached to his person and faction, 
not only all who had reason to dread the resentment of Richard for criminal 
proceedings during his absence, but also the numerous class of "lawless 
resolutes" whom the crusades had turned back on their country, accomplished 
in the vices of the East, impoverished in substance, and hardened in 
character, and who placed their hopes of harvest in civil commotion.
To these causes of public distress and apprehension must be added the 
multitude of outlaws who, driven to despair by the oppression of the feudal 
nobility and the severe exercise of the forest laws, banded together in 
large gangs, and, keeping possession of the forests and the wastes, set at 
defiance the justice and magistracy of the country. The nobles themselves, 
each fortified within his own castle, and playing the petty sovereign over 
his own dominions, were the leaders of bands scarce less lawless and 
oppressive than those of the avowed depredators. To maintain these 
retainers, and to support the extravagance and magnificence which their 
pride induced them to affect, the nobility borrowed sums of money from the 
Jews at the most usurious interest, which gnawed into their estates like 
consuming cankers, scarce to be cured unless when circumstances gave them 
an opportunity of getting free by exercising upon their creditors some act 
of unprincipled violence.
Under the various burdens imposed by this unhappy state of affairs, the 
people of England suffered deeply for the present, and had yet more 
dreadful cause to fear for the future. To augment their misery, a 
contagious disorder of a dangerous nature spread through the land; and, 
rendered more virulent by the uncleanness, the indifferent food, and the 
wretched lodging of the lower classes, swept off many, whose fate the 
survivors were tempted to envy, as exempting them from the evils which were 
to come.
Yet, amid these accumulated distresses, the poor as well as the rich, the 
vulgar as well as the noble, in the event of a tournament, which was the 
grand spectacle of that age, felt as much interested as the half-starved 
citizen of Madrid, who has not a real left to buy provisions for his 
family, feels in the issue of a bull-feast. Neither duty nor infirmity 
could keep youth or age from such exhibitions. The Passage of Arms, as it 
was called, which was to take place at Ashby, in the county of Leicester, 
as champions of the first renown were to take the field in the presence of 
Prince John himself, who was expected to grace the lists, had attracted 
universal attention, and an immense confluence of persons of all ranks 
hastened upon the appointed morning to the place of combat.
The scene was singularly romantic. On the verge of a wood, which approached 
to within a mile of the town of Ashby, was an extensive meadow, of the 
finest and most beautiful green turf, surrounded on one side by the forest, 
and fringed on the other by straggling oak-trees, some of which had grown 
to an immense size. The ground, as if fashioned on purpose for the martial 
display which was intended, sloped gradually down on all sides to a level 
bottom, which was inclosed for the lists with strong palisades, forming a 
space of a quarter of a mile in length, and about half as broad. The form 
of the inclosure was an oblong square, save that the corners were 
considerably rounded off, in order to afford more convenience for the 
spectators. The openings for the entry of the combatants were at the 
northern and southern extremities of the lists, accessible by strong wooden 
gates, each wide enough to admit two horsemen riding abreast. At each of 
these portals were stationed two heralds, attended by six trumpets, as many 
pursuivants, and a strong body of men-at-arms, for maintaining order, and 
ascertaining the quality of the knights who proposed to engage in this 
martial game.
On a platform beyond the southern entrance, formed by a natural elevation 
of the ground, were pitched five magnificent pavilions, adorned with 
pennons of russet and black, the chosen colours of the five knights 
challengers. The cords of the tents were of the same colour. Before each 
pavilion was suspended the shield of the knight by whom it was occupied, 
and beside it stood his squire, quaintly disguised as a salvage or sylvan 
man, or in some other fantastic dress, according to the taste of his master 
and the character he was pleased to assume during the game. The central 
pavilion, as the place of honour, had been assigned to Brian de Bois-
Guilbert, whose renown in all games of chivalry, no less than his 
connections with the knights who had undertaken this Passage of Arms, had 
occasioned him to be eagerly received into the company of the challengers, 
and even adopted as their chief and leader, though he had so recently 
joined them. On one side of his tent were pitched those of Reginald Front-
de-Boeuf and Richard de Malvoisin, and on the other was the pavilion of 
Hugh de Grantmesnil, a noble baron in the vicinity, whose ancestor had been 
Lord High Steward of England in the time of the Conqueror and his son 
William Rufus. Ralph de Vipont, a knight of St John of Jerusalem, who had 
some ancient possessions at a place called Heather, near Ashby-de-la-
Zouche, occupied the fifth pavilion. From the entrance into the lists a 
gently sloping passage, ten yards in breadth, led up to the platform on 
which the tents were pitched. It was strongly secured by a palisade on each 
side, as was the esplanade in front of the pavilions, and the whole was 
guarded by men-at-arms.
The northern access to the lists terminated in a similar entrance of thirty 
feet in breadth, at the extremity of which was a large enclosed space for 
such knights as might be disposed to enter the lists with the challengers, 
behind which were placed tents containing refreshments of every kind for 
their accommodation, with armourers, tarriers, and other attendants, in 
readiness to give their services wherever they might be necessary.
The exterior of the lists was in part occupied by temporary galleries, 
spread with tapestry and carpets, and accommodated with cushions for the 
convenience of those ladies and nobles who were expected to attend the 
tournament. A narrow space betwixt these galleries and the lists, gave 
accommodation for yeomanry and spectators of a better degree than the mere 
vulgar, and might be compared to the pit of a theatre. The promiscuous 
multitude arranged themselves upon large banks of turf prepared for the 
purpose, which, aided by the natural elevation of the ground, enabled them 
to overlook the galleries, and obtain a fair view into the lists. Besides 
the accommodation which these stations afforded, many hundreds had perched 
themselves on the branches of the trees which surrounded the meadow; and 
even the steeple of a country church, at some distance, was crowded with 
spectators.
It only remains to notice respecting the general arrangement, that one 
gallery in the very centre of the eastern side of the lists, and 
consequently exactly opposite to the spot where the shock of the combat was 
to take place, was raised higher than the others, more richly decorated, 
and graced by a sort of throne and canopy, on which the royal arms were 
emblazoned. Squires, pages, and yeomen in rich liveries waited around this 
place of honour, which was designed for Prince John and his attendants. 
Opposite to this royal gallery was another, elevated to the same height, on 
the western side of the lists; and more gaily, if less sumptuously, 
decorated than that destined for the Prince himself. A train of pages and 
of young maidens, the most beautiful who could be selected, gaily dressed 
in fancy habits of green and pink, surrounded a throne decorated in the 
same colours. Among pennons and flags bearing wounded hearts, burning 
hearts, bleeding hearts, bows and quivers, and all the commonplace emblems 
of the triumphs of Cupid, a blazoned inscription informed the spectators, 
that this seat of honour was designed for La Royne de la Beaulte et des 
Amours. But who was to represent the Queen of Beauty and of Love on the 
present occasion no one was prepared to guess.
Meanwhile, spectators of every description thronged forward to occupy their 
respective stations, and not without many quarrels concerning those which 
they were entitled to hold. Some of these were settled by the men-at-arms 
with brief ceremony; the shafts of their battle-axes, and pummels of their 
swords, being readily employed as arguments to convince the more 
refractory. Others, which involved the rival claims of more elevated 
persons, were determined by the heralds, or by the two marshals of the 
field, William de Wyvil, and Stephen de Martival, who, armed at all points, 
rode up and down the lists to enforce and preserve good order among the 
spectators.
Gradually the galleries became filled with knights and nobles, in their 
robes of peace, whose long and rich-tinted mantles were contrasted with the 
gayer and more splendid habits of the ladies, who, in a greater proportion 
than even the men themselves, thronged to witness a sport which one would 
have thought too bloody and dangerous to afford their sex much pleasure. 
The lower and interior space was soon filled by substantial yeomen and 
burghers, and such of the lesser gentry as, from modesty, poverty, or 
dubious title, durst not assume any higher place. It was of course amongst 
these that the most frequent disputes for precedence occurred.
"Dog of an unbeliever," said an old man, whose threadbare tunic bore 
witness to his poverty, as his sword, and dagger, and golden chain 
intimated his pretensions to rank, - "whelp of a she-wolf! darest thou 
press upon a Christian, and a Norman gentleman of the blood of Montdidier?"
This rough expostulation was addressed to no other than our acquaintance 
Isaac, who, richly and even magnificently dressed in a gabardine ornamented 
with lace and lined with fur, was endeavouring to make place in the 
foremost row beneath the gallery for his daughter, the beautiful Rebecca, 
who had joined him at Ashby, and who was now hanging on her father's arm, 
not a little terrified by the popular displeasure which seemed generally 
excited by her parent's presumption. But Isaac, though we have seen him 
sufficiently timid on other occasions, knew well that at present he had 
nothing to fear. It was not in places of general resort, or where their 
equals were assembled, that any avaricious or malevolent noble durst offer 
him injury. At such meetings the Jews were under the protection of the 
general law; and if that proved a weak assurance, it usually happened that 
there were among the persons assembled some barons, who, for their own 
interested motives, were ready to act as their protectors. On the present 
occasion, Isaac felt more than usually confident, being aware that Prince 
John was even then in the very act of negotiating a large loan from the 
Jews of York, to be secured upon certain jewels and lands. Isaac's own 
share in this transaction was considerable, and he well knew that the 
Prince's eager desire to bring it to a conclusion would ensure him his 
protection in the dilemma in which he stood.
Emboldened by these considerations, the Jew pursued his point, and jostled 
the Norman Christian without respect either to his descent, quality, or 
religion. The complaints of the old man, however, excited the indignation 
of the bystanders. One of these, a stout well-set yeoman, arrayed in 
Lincoln green, having twelve arrows stuck in his belt, with a baldric and 
badge of silver, and a bow of six feet length in his hand, turned short 
round, and while his countenance, which his constant exposure to weather 
had rendered brown as a hazel nut, grew darker with anger, he advised the 
Jew to remember that all the wealth he had acquired by sucking the blood of 
his miserable victims had but swelled him like a bloated spider, which 
might be overlooked while he kept in a corner, but would be crushed if it 
ventured into the light. This intimation, delivered in Norman-English with 
a firm voice and a stern aspect, made the Jew shrink back; and he would 
have probably withdrawn himself altogether from a vicinity so dangerous, 
had not the attention of every one been called to the sudden entrance of 
Prince John, who at that moment entered the lists, attended by a numerous 
and gay train, consisting partly of laymen, partly of churchmen, as light 
in their dress, and as gay in their demeanour, as their companions. Among 
the latter was the Prior of Jorvaulx, in the most gallant trim which a 
dignitary of the church could venture to exhibit. Fur and gold were not 
spared in his garments; and the points of his boots, out-heroding the 
preposterous fashion of the time, turned up so very far as to be attached, 
not to his knees merely, but to his very girdle, and effectually prevented 
him from putting his foot into the stirrup. This, however, was a slight 
inconvenience to the gallant Abbot, who, perhaps even rejoicing in the 
opportunity to display his accomplished horsemanship before so many 
spectators, especially of the fair sex, dispensed with the use of these 
supports to a timid rider. The rest of Prince John's retinue consisted of 
the favourite leaders of his mercenary troops, some marauding barons and 
profligate attendants upon the court, with several Knights Templars and 
Knights of St John.
It may be here remarked, that the knights of these two orders were 
accounted hostile to King Richard, having adopted the side of Philip of 
France in the long train of disputes which took place in Palestine betwixt 
that monarch and the lion-hearted King of England. It was the well-known 
consequence of this discord that Richard's repeated victories had been 
rendered fruitless, his romantic attempts to besiege Jerusalem 
disappointed, and the fruit of all the glory which he had acquired had 
dwindled into an uncertain truce with the Sultan Saladin. With the same 
policy which had dictated the conduct of their brethren in the Holy Land, 
the Templars and Hospitallers in England and Normandy attached themselves 
to the faction of Prince John, having little reason to desire the return of 
Richard to England, or the succession of Arthur, his legitimate heir. For 
the opposite reason, Prince John hated and contemned the few Saxon families 
of consequence which subsisted in England, and omitted no opportunity of 
mortifying and affronting them; being conscious that his person and 
pretensions were disliked by them, as well as by the greater part of the 
English commons, who feared farther innovation upon their rights and 
liberties from a sovereign of John's licentious and tyrannical disposition.
Attended by this gallant equipage, himself well mounted, and splendidly 
dressed in crimson and in gold, bearing upon his hand a falcon, and having 
his head covered by a rich fur bonnet, adorned with a circle of precious 
stones, from which his long curled hair escaped and overspread his 
shoulders, Prince John, upon a grey and high-mettled palfrey, caracoled 
within the lists at the head of his jovial party, laughing loud with his 
train, and eyeing with all the boldness of royal criticism the beauties who 
adorned the lofty galleries.
Those who remarked in the physiognomy of the Prince a dissolute audacity, 
mingled with extreme haughtiness and indifference to the feelings of others 
could not yet deny to his countenance that sort of comeliness which belongs 
to an open set of features, well formed by nature, modelled by art to the 
usual rules of courtesy, yet so far frank and honest, that they seemed as 
if they disclaimed to conceal the natural workings of the soul. Such an 
expression is often mistaken for manly frankness, when in truth it arises 
from the reckless indifference of a libertine disposition, conscious of 
superiority of birth, of wealth, or of some other adventitious advantage, 
totally unconnected with personal merit. To those who did not think so 
deeply, and they were the greater number by a hundred to one, the splendour 
of Prince John's rheno, (i.e. fur tippet), the richness of his cloak, lined 
with the most costly sables, his maroquin boots and golden spurs, together 
with the grace with which he managed his palfrey, were sufficient to merit 
clamorous applause.
In his joyous caracole round the lists, the attention of the Prince was 
called by the commotion, not yet subsided, which had attended the ambitious 
movement of Isaac towards the higher places of the assembly. The quick eye 
of Prince John instantly recognised the Jew, but was much more agreeably 
attracted by the beautiful daughter of Zion, who, terrified by the tumult, 
clung close to the arm of her aged father.
The figure of Rebecca might indeed have compared with the proudest beauties 
of England, even though it had been judged by as shrewd a connoisseur as 
Prince John. Her form was exquisitely symmetrical, and was shown to 
advantage by a sort of Eastern dress, which she wore according to the 
fashion of the females of her nation. Her turban of yellow silk suited well 
with the darkness of her complexion. The brilliancy of her eyes, the superb 
arch of her eyebrows, her well-formed aquiline nose, her teeth as white as 
pearl, and the profusion of her sable tresses, which, each arranged in its 
own little spiral of twisted curls, fell down upon as much of a lovely neck 
and bosom as a simarre of the richest Persian silk, exhibiting flowers in 
their natural colours embossed upon a purple ground, permitted to be 
visible - all these constituted a combination of loveliness which yielded 
not to the most beautiful of the maidens who surrounded her. It is true, 
that of the golden and pearl-studded clasps, which closed her vest from the 
throat to the waist, the three uppermost were left unfastened on account of 
the heat, which something enlarged the prospect to which we allude. A 
diamond necklace, with pendants of inestimable value, were by this means 
also made more conspicuous. The feather of an ostrich, fastened in her 
turban by an agraffe set with brilliants, was another distinction of the 
beautiful Jewess, scoffed and sneered at by the proud dames who sat above 
her, but secretly envied by those who affected to deride them.
"By the bald scalp of Abraham," said Prince John, "yonder Jewess must be 
the very model of that perfection, whose charms drove frantic the wisest 
king that ever lived! What sayst thou, Prior Aymer? - By the Temple of that 
wise king, which our wiser brother Richard proved unable to recover, she is 
the very Bride of the Canticles!"
"The Rose of Sharon and the Lily of the Valley," answered the Prior, in a 
sort of snuffling tone; "but your Grace must remember she is still but a 
Jewess."
"Ay!" added Prince John, without heeding him, "and there is my Mammon of 
unrighteousness too - the Marquis of Marks, the Baron of Byzants, 
contesting for place with penniless dogs, whose threadbare cloaks have not 
a single cross in their pouches to keep the devil from dancing there. By 
the body of St Mark, my prince of supplies, with his lovely Jewess, shall 
have a place in the gallery! What is she, Isaac? Thy wife or thy daughter, 
that Eastern houri that thou lockest under thy arm as thou wouldst thy 
treasure-casket?"
"My daughter Rebecca, so please your Grace," answered Isaac, with a low 
congee, nothing embarrassed by the Prince's salutation, in which, however, 
there was at least as much mockery as courtesy.
"The wiser man thou," said John, with a peal of laughter, in which his gay 
followers obsequiously joined. "But, daughter or wife, she should be 
preferred according to her beauty and thy merits. Who sits above there?" he 
continued, bending his eye on the gallery. "Saxon churls, lolling at their 
lazy length! Out upon them! let them sit close, and make room for my prince 
of usurers and his lovely daughter. I'll make the hinds know they must 
share the high places of the synagogue with those whom the synagogue 
properly belongs to."
Those who occupied the gallery to whom this injurious and unpolite speech 
was addressed, were the family of Cedric the Saxon, with that of his ally 
and kinsman, Athelstane of Coningsburgh, a personage, who, on account of 
his descent from the last Saxon monarchs of England, was held in the 
highest respect by all the Saxon natives of the north of England. But with 
the blood of this ancient royal race many of their infirmities had 
descended to Athelstane. He was comely in countenance, bulky and strong in 
person, and in the flower of his age; yet inanimate in expression, dull-
eyed, heavy-browed, inactive and sluggish in all his motions, and so slow 
in resolution, that the soubriquet of one of his ancestors was conferred 
upon him, and he was very generally called Athelstane the Unready. His 
friends - and he had many who, as well as Cedric, were passionately 
attached to him - contended that this sluggish temper arose not from want 
of courage, but from mere want of decision; others alleged that his 
hereditary vice of drunkenness had obscured his faculties, never of a very 
acute order, and that the passive courage and meek good-nature which 
remained behind, were merely the dregs of a character that might have been 
deserving of praise, but of which all the valuable parts had flown off in 
the progress of a long course of brutal debauchery.
It was to this person, such as we have described him, that the Prince 
addressed his imperious command to make place for Isaac and Rebecca. 
Athelstane, utterly confounded at an order which the manners and feelings 
of the times rendered so injuriously insulting, unwilling to obey, yet 
undetermined how to resist, opposed only the vis inertiae to the will of 
John; and, without stirring or making any motion whatever of obedience, 
opened his large grey eyes and stared at the Prince with an astonishment 
which had in it something extremely ludicrous. But the impatient John 
regarded it in no such light.
"The Saxon porker," he said, "is either asleep or minds me not. Prick him 
with your lance, De Bracy," speaking to a knight who rode near him, the 
leader of a band of free companions, or condottieri; that is, of 
mercenaries belonging to no particular nation, but attached for the time to 
any prince by whom they were paid. There was a murmur even among the 
attendants of Prince John; but De Bracy, whose profession freed him from 
all scruples, extended his long lance over the space which separated the 
gallery from the lists, and would have executed the commands of the Prince 
before Athelstane the Unready had recovered presence of mind sufficient 
even to draw back his person from the weapon, had not Cedric, as prompt as 
his companion was tardy, unsheathed, with the speed of lightning, the short 
sword which he wore, and at a single blow severed the point of the lance 
from the handle. The blood rushed into the countenance of Prince John. He 
swore one of his deepest oaths, and was about to utter some threat 
corresponding in violence, when he was diverted from his purpose, partly by 
his own attendants, who gathered around him conjuring him to be patient, 
partly by a general exclamation of the crowd, uttered in loud applause of 
the spirited conduct of Cedric. The Prince rolled his eyes in indignation, 
as if to collect some safe and easy victim; and chancing to encounter the 
firm glance of the same archer whom we have already noticed, and who seemed 
to persist in his gesture of applause, in spite of the frowning aspect 
which the Prince bent upon him, he demanded his reason for clamouring thus.
"I always add my hollo," said the yeoman, "when I see a good shot, or a 
gallant blow."
"Sayst thou?" answered the Prince; "then thou canst hit the white thyself, 
I'll warrant."
"A woodsman's mark, and at woodsman's distance, I can hit," answered the 
yeoman.
"And Wat Tyrrel's mark, at a hundred yards," said a voice from behind, but 
by whom uttered could not be discerned.
This allusion to the fate of William Rufus, his grandfather (predecessor), 
at once incensed and alarmed Prince John. He satisfied himself, however, 
with commanding the men-at-arms, who surrounded the lists, to keep an eye 
on the braggart, pointing to the yeoman.
"By St Grizzel," he added, "we will try his own skill, who is so ready to 
give his voice to the feats of others!"
"I shall not fly the trial," said the yeoman, with the composure which 
marked his whole deportment.
"Meanwhile, stand up, ye Saxon churls," said the fiery Prince; "for, by the 
light of Heaven, since I have said it, the Jew shall have his seat amongst 
ye!"
"By no means, an it please your Grace! It is not fit for such as we to sit 
with the rulers of the land," said the Jew; whose ambition for precedence, 
though it had led him to dispute place with the extenuated and impoverished 
descendant of the line of Montdidier, by no means stimulated him to an 
intrusion upon the privileges of the wealthy Saxons.
"Up, infidel dog, when I command you," said Prince John, "or I will have 
thy swarthy hide stript off, and tanned for horse-furniture!"
Thus urged, the Jew began to ascend the steep and narrow steps which led up 
to the gallery.
"Let me see," said the Prince, "who dare stop him!" fixing his eye on 
Cedric, whose attitude intimated his intention to hurl the Jew down 
headlong.
The catastrophe was prevented by the clown Wamba, who, springing betwixt 
his master and Isaac, and exclaiming, in answer to the Prince's defiance, 
"Marry, that will I!" opposed to the beard of the Jew a shield of brawn, 
which he plucked from beneath his cloak, and with which, doubtless, he had 
furnished himself, lest the tournament should have proved longer than his 
appetite could endure abstinence. Finding the abomination of his tribe 
opposed to his very nose, while the Jester, at the same time, flourished 
his wooden sword above his head, the Jew recoiled, missed his footing, and 
rolled down the steps - an excellent jest to the spectators, who set up a 
loud laughter, in which Prince John and his attendants heartily joined.
"Deal me the prize, cousin Prince," said Wamba; "I have vanquished my foe 
in fair fight with sword and shield," he added, brandishing the brawn in 
one hand and the wooden sword in the other.
"Who, and what art thou, noble champion?" said Prince John, still laughing.
"A fool by right of descent," answered the Jester; "I am Wamba, the son of 
Witless, who was the son of Weatherbrain, who was the son of an alderman."
"Make room for the Jew in front of the lower ring," said Prince John, not 
unwilling perhaps, to seize an apology to desist from his original purpose; 
"to place the vanquished beside the victor were false heraldry."
"Knave upon fool were worse," answered the Jester, "and Jew upon bacon 
worst of all."
"Gramercy! good fellow," cried Prince John, "thou pleasest me. Here, Isaac, 
lend me a handful of byzants."
As the Jew, stunned by the request, afraid to refuse and unwilling to 
comply, fumbled in the furred bag which hung by his girdle, and was perhaps 
endeavouring to ascertain how few coins might pass for a handful, the 
Prince stooped from his jennet and settled Isaac's doubts by snatching the 
pouch itself from his side; and flinging to Wamba a couple of the gold 
pieces which it contained, he pursued his career round the lists, leaving 
the Jew to the derision of those around him, and himself receiving as much 
applause from the spectators as if he had done some honest and honourable 
action.


Chapter 8

		At this the challenger with fierce defy
		His trumpet sounds; the challenged makes reply:
		With clangour rings the field, resounds the vaulted sky.
		Their visors closed, their lances in the rest,
		Or at the helmet pointed or the crest,
		They vanish from the barrier, speed the race,
		And spurring see decrease the middle space.
								-- Palamon and Arcite.

In the midst of Prince John's cavalcade, he suddenly stopped, and appealing 
to the Prior of Jorvaulx, declared the principal business of the day had 
been forgotten.
"By my halidom," said he, "we have forgotten, Sir Prior, to name the fair 
Sovereign of Love and of Beauty, by whose white hand the palm is to be 
distributed. For my part, I am liberal in my ideas, and I care not if I 
give my vote for the black-eyed Rebecca."
"Holy Virgin," answered the Prior, turning up his eyes in horror, "a 
Jewess! - We should deserve to be stoned out of the lists; and I am not yet 
old enough to be a martyr. Besides, I swear by my patron saint, that she is 
far inferior to the lovely Saxon, Rowena."
"Saxon or Jew," answered the Prince, "Saxon or Jew, dog or hog, what 
matters it? I say, name Rebecca, were it only to mortify the Saxon churls."
A murmur arose even among his own immediate attendants.
"This passes a jest, my lord," said De Bracy; "no knight here will lay 
lance in rest if such an insult is attempted."
"It is the mere wantonness of insult," said one of the oldest and most 
important of Prince John's followers, Waldemar Fitzurse, "and if your Grace 
attempt it, cannot but prove ruinous to your projects."
"I entertained you, sir," said John, reining up his palfrey haughtily, "for 
my follower, but not for my counsellor."
"Those who follow your Grace in the paths which you tread," said Waldemar, 
but speaking in a low voice, "acquire the right of counsellors; for your 
interest and safety are not more deeply gaged than their own."
From the tone in which this was spoken, John saw the necessity of 
acquiescence "I did but jest," he said; "and you turn upon me like so many 
adders! Name whom you will, in the fiend's name, and please yourselves."
"Nay, nay," said De Bracy, "let the fair sovereign's throne remain 
unoccupied, until the conqueror shall be named, and then let him choose the 
lady by whom it shall be filled. It will add another grace to his triumph, 
and teach fair ladies to prize the love of valiant knights, who can exalt 
them to such distinction."
"If Brian de Bois-Guilbert gain the prize," said the Prior, " I will gage 
my rosary that I name the Sovereign of Love and Beauty."
"Bois-Guilbert," answered De Bracy, "is a good lance; but there are others 
around these lists, Sir Prior, who will not fear to encounter him."
"Silence, sirs," said Waldemar, "and let the Prince assume his seat. The 
knights and spectators are alike impatient, the time advances, and highly 
fit it is that the sports should commence."
Prince John, though not yet a monarch, had in Waldemar Fitzurse all the 
inconveniences of a favourite minister, who, in serving his sovereign, must 
always do so in his own way. The Prince acquiesced, however, although his 
disposition was precisely of that kind which is apt to be obstinate upon 
trifles, and, assuming his throne, and being surrounded by his followers, 
gave signal to the heralds to proclaim the laws of the tournament, which 
were briefly as follows:
First, the five challengers were to undertake all comers.
Secondly, any knight proposing to combat, might, if he pleased, select a 
special antagonist from among the challengers, by touching his shield. If 
he did so with the reverse of his lance, the trial of skill was made with 
what were called the arms of courtesy, that is, with lances at whose 
extremity a piece of round flat board was fixed, so that no danger was 
encountered, save from the shock of the horses and riders. But if the 
shield was touched with the sharp end of the lance, the combat was 
understood to be at outrance, that is, the knights were to fight with sharp 
weapons, as in actual battle.
Thirdly, when the knights present had accomplished their vow, by each of 
them breaking five lances, the Prince was to declare the victor in the 
first day's tourney, who should receive as prize a warhorse of exquisite 
beauty and matchless strength; and in addition to this reward of valour, it 
was now declared, he should have the peculiar honour of naming the Queen of 
Love and Beauty, by whom the prize should be given on the ensuing day.
Fourthly, it was announced, that, on the second day, there should be a 
general tournament, in which all the knights present, who were desirous to 
win praise, might take part; and being divided into two bands of equal 
numbers, might fight it out manfully, until the signal was given by Prince 
John to cease the combat. The elected Queen of Love and Beauty was then to 
crown the knight whom the Prince should adjudge to have borne himself best 
in this second day, with a coronet composed of thin gold plate, cut into 
the shape of a laurel crown. On this second day the knightly games ceased. 
But on that which was to follow, feats of archery, of bull-baiting, and 
other popular amusements, were to be practised, for the more immediate 
amusement of the populace. In this manner did Prince John endeavour to lay 
the foundation of a popularity, which he was perpetually throwing down by 
some inconsiderate act of wanton aggression upon the feelings and 
prejudices of the people.
The lists now presented a most splendid spectacle. The sloping galleries 
were crowded with all that was noble, great, wealthy, and beautiful in the 
northern and midland parts of England; and the contrast of the various 
dresses of these dignified spectators, rendered the view as gay as it was 
rich, while the interior and lower space, filled with the substantial 
burgesses and yeomen of merry England, formed, in their more plain attire, 
a dark fringe, or border, around this circle of brilliant embroidery, 
relieving, and, at the same time, setting off its splendour.
The heralds finished their proclamation with their usual cry of "Largesse, 
largesse, gallant knights!" and gold and silver pieces were showered on 
them from the galleries, it being a high point of chivalry to exhibit 
liberality towards those whom the age accounted at once the secretaries and 
the historians of honour. The bounty of the spectators was acknowledged by 
the customary shouts of "Love of Ladies - Death of Champions - Honour to 
the Generous - Glory to the Brave!" To which the more humble spectators 
added their acclamations, and a numerous band of trumpeters the flourish of 
their martial instruments. When these sounds had ceased, the heralds 
withdrew from the lists in gay and glittering procession, and none remained 
within them save the marshals of the field, who, armed cap-a-pie, sat on 
horseback, motionless as statues, at the opposite ends of the lists. 
Meantime, the enclosed space at the northern extremity of the lists, large 
as it was, was now completely crowded with knights desirous to prove their 
skill against the challengers, and, when viewed from the galleries, 
presented the appearance of a sea of waving plumage, intermixed with 
glistening helmets, and tall lances, to the extremities of which were, in 
many cases, attached small pennons of about a span's breadth, which, 
fluttering in the air as the breeze caught them, joined with the restless 
motion of the feathers to add liveliness to the scene.
At length the barriers were opened, and five knights, chosen by lot, 
advanced slowly into the area; a single champion riding in front, and the 
other four following in pairs. All were splendidly armed, and my Saxon 
authority (in the Wardour Manuscript) records at great length their 
devices, their colours, and the embroidery of their horse trappings. It is 
unnecessary to be particular on these subjects. To borrow lines from a 
contemporary poet, who has written but too little -

			"The knights are dust,
			And their good swords are rust,
			Their souls are with the saints, we trust."

Their escutcheons have long mouldered from the walls of their castles. 
Their castles themselves are but green mounds and shattered ruins - the 
place that once knew them, knows them no more - nay, many a race since 
theirs has died out and been forgotten in the very land which they 
occupied, with all the authority of feudal proprietors and feudal lords. 
What, then, would it avail the reader to know their names, or the 
evanescent symbols of their martial rank!
Now, however, no whit anticipating the oblivion which awaited their names 
and feats, the champions advanced through the lists, restraining their 
fiery steeds, and compelling them to move slowly, while, at the same time, 
they exhibited their paces, together with the grace and dexterity of the 
riders. As the procession entered the lists, the sound of a wild Barbaric 
music was heard from behind the tents of the challengers, where the 
performers were concealed. It was of Eastern origin, having been brought 
from the Holy Land; and the mixture of the cymbals and bells seemed to bid 
welcome at once, and defiance, to the knights as they advanced. With the 
eyes of an immense concourse of spectators fixed upon them, the five 
knights advanced up the platform upon which the tents of the challengers 
stood, and there separating themselves, each touched slightly, and with the 
reverse of his lance, the shield of the antagonist to whom he wished to 
oppose himself. The lower orders of spectators in general - nay, many of 
the higher class, and it is even said several of the ladies, were rather 
disappointed at the champions choosing the arms of courtesy. For the same 
sort of persons, who, in the present day, applaud most highly the deepest 
tragedies, were then interested in a tournament exactly in proportion to 
the danger incurred by the champions engaged.
Having intimated their more pacific purpose, the champions retreated to the 
extremity of the lists, where they remained drawn up in a line; while the 
challengers, sallying each from his pavilion, mounted their horses, and, 
headed by Brian de Bois-Guilbert, descended from the platform, and opposed 
themselves individually to the knights who had touched their respective 
shields.
At the flourish of clarions and trumpets, they started out against each 
other at full gallop; and such was the superior dexterity or good fortune 
of the challengers, that those opposed to Bois-Guilbert, Malvoisin, and 
Front-de-Boeuf, rolled on the ground. The antagonist of Grantmesnil, 
instead of bearing his lance-point fair against the crest or the shield of 
his enemy, swerved so much from the direct line as to break the weapon 
athwart the person of his opponent - a circumstance which was accounted 
more disgraceful than that of being actually unhorsed; because the latter 
might happen from accident, whereas the former evinced awkwardness and want 
of management of the weapon and of the horse. The fifth knight alone 
maintained the honour of his party, and parted fairly with the Knight of St 
John, both splintering their lances without advantage on either side.
The shouts of the multitude, together with the acclamations of the heralds, 
and the clangour of the trumpets, announced the triumph of the victors and 
the defeat of the vanquished. The former retreated to their pavilions, and 
the latter, gathering themselves up as they could, withdrew from the lists 
in disgrace and dejection, to agree with their victors concerning the 
redemption of their arms and their horses, which, according to the laws of 
the tournament, they had forfeited. The fifth of their number alone tarried 
in the lists long enough to be greeted by the applauses of the spectators, 
amongst whom he retreated, to the aggravation, doubtless, of his 
companions' mortification.
A second and a third party of knights took the field; and although they had 
various success, yet, upon the whole, the advantage decidedly remained with 
the challengers, not one of whom lost his seat or swerved from his charge - 
misfortunes which befell one or two of their antagonists in each encounter. 
The spirits, therefore, of those opposed to them, seemed to be considerably 
damped by their continued success. Three knights only appeared on the 
fourth entry, who, avoiding the shields of Bois-Guilbert and Front-de-
Boeuf, contented themselves with touching those of the three other knights, 
who had not altogether manifested the same strength and dexterity. This 
politic selection did not alter the fortune of the field, the challengers 
were still successful: one of their antagonists was overthrown, and both 
the others failed in the attaint, that is, in striking the helmet and 
shield of their antagonist firmly and strongly, with the lance held in a 
direct line, so that the weapon might break unless the champion was 
overthrown.
After this fourth encounter, there was a considerable pause; nor did it 
appear that any one was very desirous of renewing the contest The 
spectators murmured among themselves; for, among the challengers, Malvoisin 
and Front-de-Boeuf were unpopular from their characters, and the others, 
except Grantmesnil, were disliked as strangers and foreigners.
But none shared the general feeling of dissatisfaction so keenly as Cedric 
the Saxon, who saw, in each advantage gained by the Norman challengers, a 
repeated triumph over the honour of England. His own education had taught 
him no skill in the games of chivalry, although, with the arms of his Saxon 
ancestors, he had manifested himself, on many occasions, a brave and 
determined soldier. He looked anxiously to Athelstane, who had learned the 
accomplishments of the age, as if desiring that he should make some 
personal effort to recover the victory which was passing into the hands of 
the Templar and his associates. But, though both stout of heart, and strong 
of person, Athelstane had a disposition too inert and unambitious to make 
the exertions which Cedric seemed to expect from him.
"The day is against England, my lord," said Cedric, in a marked tone; "are 
you not tempted to take the lance?"
"I shall tilt to-morrow" answered Athelstane, "in the melee; it is not 
worth while for me to arm myself to-day."
Two things displeased Cedric in this speech. It contained the Norman word 
meelee, (to express the general conflict,) and it evinced some indifference 
to the honour of the country; but it was spoken by Athelstane, whom he held 
in such profound respect, that he would not trust himself to canvass his 
motives or his foibles. Moreover, he had no time to make any remark, for 
Wamba thrust in his word, observing, "It was better, though scarce easier, 
to be the best man among a hundred, than the best man of two."
Athelstane took the observation as a serious compliment; but Cedric, who 
better understood the Jester's meaning, darted at him a severe and menacing 
look; and lucky it was for Wamba, perhaps, that the time and place 
prevented his receiving, notwithstanding his place and service, more 
sensible marks of his master's resentment.
The pause in the tournament was still uninterrupted, excepting by the 
voices of the heralds exclaiming - "Love of ladies, splintering of lances! 
stand forth gallant knights, fair eyes look upon your deeds!"
The music also of the challengers breathed from time to time wild bursts 
expressive of triumph or defiance, while the clowns grudged a holiday which 
seemed to pass away in inactivity; and old knights and nobles lamented in 
whispers the decay of martial spirit, spoke of the triumphs of their 
younger days, but agreed that the land did not now supply dames of such 
transcendent beauty as had animated the jousts of former times. Prince John 
began to talk to his attendants about making ready the banquet, and the 
necessity of adjudging the prize to Brian de Bois-Guilbert, who had, with a 
single spear, overthrown two knights, and foiled a third.
At length, as the Saracenic music of the challengers concluded one of those 
long and high flourishes with which they had broken the silence of the 
lists, it was answered by a solitary trumpet, which breathed a note of 
defiance from the northern extremity. All eyes were turned to see the new 
champion which these sounds announced, and no sooner were the barriers 
opened than he paced into the lists. As far as could be judged of a man 
sheathed in armour, the new adventurer did not greatly exceed the middle 
size, and seemed to be rather slender than strongly made. His suit of 
armour was formed of steel, richly inlaid with gold, and the device on his 
shield was a young oak-tree pulled up by the roots, with the Spanish word 
Desdichado, signifying Disinherited. He was mounted on a gallant black 
horse, and as he passed through the lists he gracefully saluted the Prince 
and the ladies by lowering his lance. The dexterity with which he managed 
his steed, and something of youthful grace which he displayed in his 
manner, won him the favour of the multitude, which some of the lower 
classes expressed by calling out, "Touch Ralph de Vipont's shield - touch 
the Hospitallers shield; he has the least sure seat, he is your cheapest 
bargain."
The champion, moving onward amid these well-meant hints, ascended the 
platform by the sloping alley which led to it from the lists, and, to the 
astonishment of all present, riding straight up to the central pavilion, 
struck with the sharp end of his spear the shield of Brian de Bois-Guilbert 
until it rung again. All stood astonished at his presumption, but none more 
than the redoubted Knight whom he had thus defied to mortal combat, and 
who, little expecting so rude a challenge, was standing carelessly at the 
door of the pavilion.
"Have you confessed yourself, brother," said the Templar, "and have you 
heard mass this morning, that you peril your life so frankly?"
"I am fitter to meet death than thou art," answered the Disinherited 
Knight; for by this name the stranger had recorded himself in the books of 
the tourney.
"Then take your place in the lists," said Bois-Guilbert, "and look your 
last upon the sun; for this night thou shalt sleep in paradise."
"Gramercy for thy courtesy," replied the Disinherited Knight, "and to 
requite it, I advise thee to take a fresh horse and a new lance, for by my 
honour you will need both."
Having expressed himself thus confidently, he reined his horse backward 
down the slope which he had ascended, and compelled him in the same manner 
to move backward through the lists, till he reached the northern extremity, 
where he remained stationary, in expectation of his antagonist. This feat 
of horsemanship again attracted the applause of the multitude.
However incensed at his adversary for the precautions which he recommended, 
Brian de Bois-Guilbert did not neglect his advice; for his honour was too 
nearly concerned, to permit his neglecting any means which might ensure 
victory over his presumptuous opponent. He changed his horse for a proved 
and fresh one of great strength and spirit. He chose a new and a tough 
spear, lest the wood of the former might have been strained in the previous 
encounters he had sustained. Lastly, he laid aside his shield, which had 
received some little damage, and received another from his squires. His 
first had only borne the general device of his rider, representing two 
knights riding upon one horse, an emblem expressive of the original 
humility and poverty of the Templars, qualities which they had since 
exchanged for the arrogance and wealth that finally occasioned their 
suppression. Bois-Guilbert's new shield bore a raven in full flight, 
holding in its claws a skull, and bearing the motto, Gare le Corbeau.
When the two champions stood opposed to each other at the two extremities 
of the lists, the public expectation was strained to the highest pitch. Few 
augured the possibility that the encounter could terminate well for the 
Disinherited Knight, yet his courage and gallantry secured the general good 
wishes of the spectators.
The trumpets had no sooner given the signal, than the champions vanished 
from their posts with the speed of lightning, and closed in the centre of 
the lists with the shock of a thunderbolt. The lances burst into shivers up 
to the very grasp, and it seemed at the moment that both knights had 
fallen, for the shock had made each horse recoil backwards upon its 
haunches. The address of the riders recovered their steeds by use of the 
bridle and spur; and having glared on each other for an instant with eyes 
which seemed to flash fire through the bars of their visors, each made a 
demi-volte, and, retiring to the extremity of the lists, received a fresh 
lance from the attendants.
A loud shout from the spectators, waving of scarves and handkerchiefs, and 
general acclamations, attested the interest taken by the spectators in this 
encounter; the most equal, as well as the best performed, which had graced 
the day. But no sooner had the knights resumed their station, than the 
clamour of applause was hushed into a silence, so deep and so dead, that it 
seemed the multitude were afraid even to breathe.
A few minutes' pause having been allowed, that the combatants and their 
horses might recover breath, Prince John with his truncheon signed to the 
trumpets to sound the onset. The champions a second time sprung from their 
stations, and closed in the centre of the lists, with the same speed, the 
same dexterity, the same violence, but not the same equal fortune as 
before.
In this second encounter, the Templar aimed at the centre of his 
antagonist's shield, and struck it so fair and forcibly, that his spear 
went to shivers, and the Disinherited Knight reeled in his saddle. On the 
other hand, that champion had, in the beginning of his career, directed the 
point of his lance towards Bois-Guilbert's shield, but, changing his aim 
almost in the moment of encounter, he addressed it to the helmet, a mark 
more difficult to hit, but which, if attained, rendered the shock more 
irresistible. Fair and true he hit the Norman on the visor, where his 
lance's point kept hold of the bars. Yet, even at this disadvantage, the 
Templar sustained his high reputation; and had not the girths of his saddle 
burst, he might not have been unhorsed. As it chanced, however, saddle, 
horse, and man, rolled on the ground under a cloud of dust.
To extricate himself from the stirrups and fallen steed, was to the Templar 
scarce the work of a moment; and, stung with madness, both at his disgrace 
and at the acclamations with which it was hailed by the spectators, he drew 
his sword and waved it in defiance of his conqueror. The Disinherited 
Knight sprung from his steed, and also unsheathed his sword. The marshals 
of the field, however, spurred their horses between them, and reminded 
them, that the laws of the tournament did not, on the present occasion, 
permit this species of encounter.
"We shall meet again, I trust," said the Templar, casting a resentful 
glance at his antagonist; "and where there are none to separate us."
"If we do not," said the Disinherited Knight, "the fault shall not be mine. 
On foot or horseback, with spear, with axe, or with sword, I am alike ready 
to encounter thee."
More and angrier words would have been exchanged, but the marshals, 
crossing their lances betwixt them, compelled them to separate. The 
Disinherited Knight returned to his first station, and Bois-Guilbert to his 
tent, where he remained for the rest of the day in an agony of despair.
Without alighting from his horse, the conqueror called for a bowl of wine, 
and opening the beaver, or lower part of his helmet, announced that he 
quaffed it, "To all true English hearts, and to the confusion of foreign 
tyrants." He then commanded his trumpet to sound a defiance to the 
challengers, and desired a herald to announce to them, that he should make 
no election, but was willing to encounter them in the order in which they 
pleased to advance against him.
The gigantic Front-de-Boeuf, armed in sable armour, was the first who took 
the field. He bore on a white shield a black bull's head, half defaced by 
the numerous encounters which he had undergone, and bearing the arrogant 
motto, Cave, Adsum. Over this champion the Disinherited Knight obtained a 
slight but decisive advantage. Both Knights broke their lances fairly, but 
Front-de-Boeuf, who lost a stirrup in the encounter, was adjudged to have 
the disadvantage.
In the stranger's third encounter with Sir Philip Malvoisin, he was equally 
successful; striking that baron so forcibly on the casque, that the laces 
of the helmet broke, and Malvoisin, only saved from falling by being 
unhelmeted, was declared vanquished like his companions.
In his fourth combat with De Grantmesnil, the Disinherited Knight showed as 
much courtesy as he had hitherto evinced courage and dexterity. De 
Grantmesnil's horse, which was young and violent, reared and plunged in the 
course of the career so as to disturb the rider's aim, and the stranger, 
declining to take the advantage which this accident afforded him, raised 
his lance, and passing his antagonist without touching him, wheeled his 
horse and rode back again to his own end of the lists, offering his 
antagonist, by a herald, the chance of a second encounter. This De 
Grantmesnil declined, avowing himself vanquished as much by the courtesy as 
by the address of his opponent.
Ralph de Vipont summed up the list of the stranger's triumphs, being hurled 
to the ground with such force, that the blood gushed from his nose and his 
mouth, and he was borne senseless from the lists.
The acclamations of thousands applauded the unanimous award of the Prince 
and marshals, announcing that day's honours to the Disinherited Knight.


Chapter 9

					In the midst was seen
	A lady of a more majestic mien,
	By stature and by beauty mark'd their sovereign Queen.

.........

	And as in beauty she surpass'd the choir,
	So nobler than the rest was her attire;
	A crown of ruddy gold enclosed her brow,
	Plain without pomp, and rich without a show;
	A branch of Agnus Castus in her hand,
	She bore aloft her symbol of command.
	The Flower and the Leaf.


William de Wyvil and Stephen de Martival, the marshals of the field, were 
the first to offer their congratulations to the victor, praying him, at the 
same time, to suffer his helmet to be unlaced, or, at least, that he would 
raise his visor ere they conducted him to receive the prize of the day's 
tourney from the hands of Prince John. The Disinherited Knight, with all 
knightly courtesy, declined their request, alleging, that he could not at 
this time suffer his face to be seen, for reasons which he had assigned to 
the heralds when he entered the lists. The marshals were perfectly 
satisfied by this reply; for amidst the frequent and capricious vows by 
which knights were accustomed to bind themselves in the days of chivalry, 
there were none more common than those by which they engaged to remain 
incognito for a certain space, or until some particular adventure was 
achieved. The marshals, therefore, pressed no farther into the mystery of 
the Disinherited Knight, but, announcing to Prince John the conqueror's 
desire to remain unknown, they requested permission to bring him before his 
Grace, in order that he might receive the reward of his valour.
John's curiosity was excited by the mystery observed by the stranger; and, 
being already displeased with the issue of the tournament, in which the 
challengers whom he favoured had been successively defeated by one knight, 
he answered haughtily to the marshals, "By the light of Our Lady's brow, 
this same knight hath been disinherited as well of his courtesy as of his 
lands, since he desires to appear before us without uncovering his face. - 
Wot ye, my lords," be said, turning round to his train, "who this gallant 
can be, that bears himself thus proudly?"
"I cannot guess," answered De Bracy, "nor did I think there had been within 
the four seas that girth Britain a champion that could bear down these five 
knights in one day's jousting. By my faith, I shall never forget the force 
with which he shocked De Vipont. The poor Hospitaller was hurled from his 
saddle like a stone from a sling."
"Boast not of that," said a Knight of St John, who was present; "your 
Temple champion had no better luck. I saw your brave lance, Bois-Guilbert, 
roll thrice over, grasping his hands full of sand at every turn.
De Bracy, being attached to the Templars, would have replied, but was 
prevented by Prince John. "Silence, sirs!" he said; "what unprofitable 
debate have we here?"
"The victor," said De Wyvil, "still waits the pleasure of your highness."
"It is our pleasure," answered John, "that he do so wait until we learn 
whether there is not some one who can at least guess at his name and 
quality. Should he remain there till night-fall, he has had work enough to 
keep him warm."
"Your Grace," said Waldemar Fitzurse, "will do less than due honour to the 
victor, if you compel him to wait till we tell your highness that which we 
cannot know; at least I can form no guess - unless he be one of the good 
lances who accompanied King Richard to Palestine, and who are now 
straggling homeward from the Holy Land."
"It may be the Earl of Salisbury," said De Bracy; "he is about the same 
pitch."
"Sir Thomas de Multon, the Knight of Gilsland, rather," said Fitzurse; 
"Salisbury is bigger in the bones." A whisper arose among the train, but by 
whom first suggested could not be ascertained. "It might be the King - it 
might be Richard Coeur-de-Lion himself!"
"Over God's forbode!" said Prince John, involuntarily turning at the same 
time as pale as death, and shrinking as if blighted by a flash of 
lightning; "Waldemar! - De Bracy! brave knights and gentlemen, remember 
your promises, and stand truly by me!"
"Here is no danger impending," said Waldemar Fitzurse; "are you so little 
acquainted with the gigantic limbs of your father's son, as to think they 
can be held within the circumference of yonder suit of armour? - De Wyvil 
and Martival, you will best serve the Prince by bringing forward the victor 
to the throne, and ending an error that has conjured all the blood from his 
cheeks. - Look at him more closely," he continued, "your highness will see 
that he wants three inches of King Richard's height, and twice as much of 
his shoulder-breadth. The very horse he backs, could not have carried the 
ponderous weight of King Richard through a single course."
While he was yet speaking, the marshals brought forward the Disinherited 
Knight to the foot of a wooden flight of steps, which formed the ascent 
from the lists to Prince John's throne. Still discomposed with the idea 
that his brother, so much injured, and to whom he was so much indebted, had 
suddenly arrived in his native kingdom, even the distinctions pointed out 
by Fitzurse did not altogether remove the Prince's apprehensions; and 
while, with a short and embarrassed eulogy upon his valour, he caused to be 
delivered to him the war-horse assigned as the prize, he trembled lest from 
the barred visor of the mailed form before him, an answer might be 
returned, in the deep and awful accents of Richard the Lion-hearted.
But the Disinherited Knight spoke not a word in reply to the compliment of 
the Prince, which he only acknowledged with a profound obeisance.
The horse was led into the lists by two grooms richly dressed, the animal 
itself being fully accoutred with the richest war-furniture; which, 
however, scarcely added to the value of the noble creature in the eyes of 
those who were judges. Laying one hand upon the pommel of the saddle, the 
Disinherited Knight vaulted at once upon the back of the steed without 
making use of the stirrup, and, brandishing aloft his lance, rode twice 
around the lists, exhibiting the points and paces of the horse with the 
skill of a perfect horseman
The appearance of vanity, which might otherwise have been attributed to 
this display, was removed by the propriety shown in exhibiting to the best 
advantage the princely reward with which he had been just honoured, and the 
Knight was again greeted by the acclamations of all present.
In the meanwhile, the bustling Prior of Jorvaulx had reminded Prince John, 
in a whisper, that the victor must now display his good judgement, instead 
of his valour, by selecting from among the beauties who graced the 
galleries a lady, who should fill the throne of the Queen of Beauty and of 
Love, and deliver the prize of the tourney upon the ensuing day. The Prince 
accordingly made a sign with his truncheon, as the Knight passed him in his 
second career around the lists. The Knight turned towards the throne, and, 
sinking his lance, until the point was within a foot of the ground, 
remained motionless, as if expecting John's commands; while all admired the 
sudden dexterity with which he instantly reduced his fiery steed from a 
state of violent emotion and high excitation to the stillness of an 
equestrian statue,
"Sir Disinherited Knight," said Prince John, "since that is the only title 
by which we can address you, it is now your duty, as well as privilege, to 
name the fair lady, who, as Queen of Honour and of Love, is to preside over 
next day's festival. If, as a stranger in our land, you should require the 
aid of other judgement to guide your own, we can only say that Alicia, the 
daughter of our gallant knight Waldemar Fitzurse, has at our court been 
long held the first in beauty as in place. Nevertheless, it is your 
undoubted prerogative to confer on whom you please this crown, by the 
delivery of which to the lady of your choice, the election of to-morrow's 
Queen will be formal and complete. - Raise your lance."
The Knight obeyed; and Prince John placed upon its point a coronet of green 
satin, having around its edge a circlet of gold, the upper edge of which 
was relieved by arrow-points and hearts placed interchangeably, like the 
strawberry leaves and balls upon a ducal crown.
In the broad hint which he dropped respecting the daughter of Waldemar 
Fitzurse, John had more than one motive, each the offspring of a mind, 
which was a strange mixture of carelessness and presumption with low 
artifice and cunning. He wished to banish from the minds of the chivalry 
around him his own indecent and unacceptable jest respecting the Jewess 
Rebecca; he was desirous of conciliating Alicia's father Waldemar, of whom 
he stood in awe, and who had more than once shown himself dissatisfied 
during the course of the day's proceedings. He had also a wish to establish 
himself in the good graces of the lady; for John was at least as licentious 
in his pleasures as profligate in his ambition. But besides all these 
reasons, he was desirous to raise up against the Disinherited Knight 
(towards whom he already entertained a strong dislike) a powerful enemy in 
the person of Waldemar Fitzurse, who was likely, he thought, highly to 
resent the injury done to his daughter, in case, as was not unlikely, the 
victor should make another choice.
And so indeed it proved. For the Disinherited Knight passed the gallery 
close to that of the Prince, in which the Lady Alicia was seated in the 
full pride of triumphant beauty, and, pacing forwards as slowly as he had 
hitherto rode swiftly around the lists, he seemed to exercise his right of 
examining the numerous fair faces which adorned that splendid circle.
It was worth while to see the different conduct of the beauties who 
underwent this examination, during the time it was proceeding. Some 
blushed, some assumed an air of pride and dignity, some looked straight 
forward, and essayed to seem utterly unconscious of what was going on, some 
drew back in alarm, which was perhaps affected, some endeavoured to forbear 
smiling, and there were two or three who laughed outright. There were also 
some who dropped their veils over their charms; but, as the Wardour 
Manuscript says these were fair ones of ten years standing, it may be 
supposed that, having had their full share of such vanities, they were 
willing to withdraw their claim, in order to give a fair chance to the 
rising beauties of the age.
At length the champion paused beneath the balcony in which the Lady Rowena 
was placed, and the expectation of the spectators was excited to the 
utmost.
It must be owned, that if an interest displayed in his success could have 
bribed the Disinherited Knight, the part of the lists before which he 
paused had merited his predilection. Cedric the Saxon, overjoyed at the 
discomfiture of the Templar, and still more so at the, miscarriage of his 
two malevolent neighbours, Front-de-Boeuf and Malvoisin, had, with his body 
half stretched over the balcony, accompanied the victor in each course, not 
with his eyes only, but with his whole heart and soul. The Lady Rowena had 
watched the progress of the day with equal attention, though without openly 
betraying the same intense interest. Even the unmoved Athelstane had shown 
symptoms of shaking off his apathy, when, calling for a huge goblet of 
muscadine, he quaffed it to the health of the Disinherited Knight.
Another group, stationed under the gallery occupied by the Saxons, had 
shown no less interest in the fate of the day.
"Father Abraham!" said Isaac of York, when the first course was run betwixt 
the Templar and the Disinherited Knight, "how fiercely that Gentile rides! 
Ah, the good horse that was brought all the long way from Barbary, he takes 
no more care of him than if he were a wild ass's colt - and the noble 
armour, that was worth so many zecchins to Joseph Pareira, the armourer of 
Milan, besides seventy in the hundred of profits, he cares for it as little 
as if he had found it in the highways!"
"If he risks his own person and limbs, father," said Rebecca, "in doing 
such a dreadful battle, he can scarce be expected to spare his horse and 
armour."
"Child!" replied Isaac, somewhat heated, "thou knowest not what thou 
speakest - His neck and limbs are his own, but his horse and armour belong 
to - Holy Jacob! what was I about to say! - Nevertheless, it is a good 
youth - See, Rebecca! see, he is again about to go up to battle against the 
Philistine - Pray, child - pray for the safety of the good youth, - and of 
the speedy horse, and the rich armour. - God of my fathers!" he again 
exclaimed, "he hath conquered, and the uncircumcised Philistine hath fallen 
before his lance, - even as Og the King of Bashan, and Sihon, King of the 
Amorites, fell before the sword of our fathers! - Surely he shall take 
their gold and their silver, and their war-horses, and their armour of 
brass and of steel, for a prey and for a spoil."
The same anxiety did the worthy Jew display during every course that was 
run, seldom failing to hazard a hasty calculation concerning the value of 
the horse and armour which was forfeited to the champion upon each new 
success. There had been therefore no small interest taken in the success of 
the Disinherited Knight, by those who occupied the part of the lists before 
which he now paused.
Whether from indecision, or some other motive of hesitation, the champion 
of the day remained stationary for more than a minute, while the eyes of 
the silent audience were riveted upon his motions; and then, gradually and 
gracefully sinking the point of his lance, he deposited the coronet Which 
it supported at the feet of the fair Rowena. The trumpets instantly 
sounded, while the heralds proclaimed the Lady Rowena the Queen of Beauty 
and of Love for the ensuing day, menacing with suitable penalties those who 
should be disobedient to her authority. They then repeated their cry of 
Largesse, to which Cedric, in the height of his joy, replied by an ample 
donative, and to which Athelstane, though less promptly, added one equally 
large.
There was some murmuring among the damsels of Norman descent, who were as 
much unused to see the preference given to a Saxon beauty, as the Norman 
nobles were to sustain defeat in the games of chivalry which they 
themselves had introduced. But these sounds of disaffection were drowned by 
the popular shout of "Long live the Lady Rowena, the chosen and lawful 
Queen of Love and of Beauty!" To which many in the lower area added, "Long 
live the Saxon Princess! long live the race of the immortal Alfred!"
However unacceptable these sounds might be to Prince John, and to those 
around him, he saw himself nevertheless obliged to confirm the nomination 
of the victor, and accordingly calling to horse, he left his throne; and 
mounting his jennet, accompanied by his train, he again entered the lists. 
The Prince paused a moment beneath the gallery of the Lady Alicia, to whom 
he paid his compliments, observing, at the same time, to those around him - 
"By my halidome, sirs! if the Knight's feats in arms have shown that he 
hath limbs and sinews, his choice hath no less proved that his eyes are 
none of the clearest."
It was on this occasion, as during his whole life, John's misfortune, not 
perfectly to understand the characters of those whom he wished to 
conciliate. Waldemar Fitzurse was rather offended than pleased at the 
Prince stating thus broadly an opinion, that his daughter had been 
slighted.
"I know no right of chivalry," he said, "more precious or inalienable than 
that of each free knight to choose his lady-love by his own judgement. My 
daughter courts distinction from no one; and in her own character, and in 
her own sphere, will never fail to receive the full proportion of that 
which is her due."
Prince John replied not; but, spurring his horse, as if to give vent to his 
vexation, he made the animal bound forward to the gallery where Rowena was 
seated, with the crown still at her feet.
"Assume," he said, "fair lady, the mark of your sovereignty, to which none 
vows homage more sincerely than ourself, John of Anjou; and if it please 
you to-day, with your noble sire and friends, to grace our banquet in the 
Castle of Ashby, we shall learn to know the empress to whose service we 
devote to-morrow."
Rowena remained silent, and Cedric answered for her in his native Saxon.
"The Lady Rowena," he said, "possesses not the language in which to reply 
to your courtesy, or to sustain her part in your festival. I also, and the 
noble Athelstane of Coningsburgh, speak only the language, and practise 
only the manners, of our fathers. We therefore decline with thanks your 
Highness's courteous invitation to the banquet. To-morrow, the Lady Rowena 
will take upon her the state to which she has been called by the free 
election of the victor Knight, confirmed by the acclamations of the 
people."
So saying, he lifted the coronet, and placed it upon Rowena's head, in 
token of her acceptance of the temporary authority assigned to her.
"What says he?" said Prince John, affecting not to understand the Saxon 
language, in which, however, he was well skilled. The purport of Cedric's 
speech was repeated to him in French. "It is well," he said; "to-morrow we 
will ourself conduct this mute sovereign to her seat of dignity. You, at 
least, Sir Knight," he added, turning to the victor, who had remained near 
the gallery, "will this day share our banquet?"
The Knight, speaking for the first time, in a low and hurried voice, 
excused himself by pleading fatigue, and the necessity of preparing for to-
morrow's encounter.
"It is well," said Prince John, haughtily; "although unused to such 
refusals, we will endeavour to digest our banquet as we may, though 
ungraced by the most successful in arms, and his elected Queen of Beauty."
So saying, he prepared to leave the lists with his glittering train, and 
his turning his steed for that purpose, was the signal for the breaking up 
and dispersion of the spectators.
Yet, with the vindictive memory proper to offended pride, especially when 
combined with conscious want of desert, John had hardly proceeded three 
paces, ere again, turning around, he fixed an eye of stern resentment upon 
the yeoman who had displeased him in the early part of the day, and issued 
his commands to the men-at-arms who stood near - "On your life, suffer not 
that fellow to escape."
The yeoman stood the angry glance of the Prince with the same unvaried 
steadiness which had marked his former deportment, saying, with a smile, "I 
have no intention to leave Ashby until the day after to-morrow - I must see 
how Staffordshire and Leicestershire can draw their bows - the forests of 
Needwood and Charnwood must rear good archers."
"l," said Prince John to his attendants, but not in direct reply, - "I will 
see how he can draw his own; and woe betide him unless his skill should 
prove some apology for his insolence!"
"It is full time," said De Bracy, "that the outrecuidance of these peasants 
should be restrained by some striking example."
Waldemar Fitzurse, who probably thought his patron was not taking the 
readiest road to popularity, shrugged up his shoulders and was silent. 
Prince John resumed his retreat from the lists, and the dispersion of the 
multitude became general.
In various routes, according to the different quarters from which they 
came, and in groups of various numbers, the spectators were seen retiring 
over the plain. By far the most numerous part streamed towards the town of 
Ashby, where many of the distinguished persons were lodged in the castle, 
and where others found accommodation in the town itself. Among these were 
most of the knights who had already appeared in the tournament, or who 
proposed to fight there the ensuing day, and who, as they rode slowly 
along, talking over the events of the day, were greeted with loud shouts by 
the populace. The same acclamations were bestowed upon Prince John, 
although he was indebted for them rather to the splendour of his appearance 
and train, than to the popularity of his character.
A more sincere and more general, as well as a better-merited acclamation, 
attended the victor of the day, until, anxious to withdraw himself from 
popular notice, he accepted the accommodation of one of those pavilions 
pitched at the extremities of the lists, the use of which was courteously 
tendered him by the marshals of the field. On his retiring to his tent, 
many who had lingered in the lists, to look upon and form conjectures 
concerning him, also dispersed.
The signs and sounds of a tumultuous concourse of men lately crowded 
together in one place, and agitated by the same passing events, were now 
exchanged for the distant hum of voices of different groups retreating in 
all directions, and these speedily died away in silence. No other sounds 
were heard save the voices of the menials who stripped the galleries of 
their cushions and tapestry, in order to put them in safety for the night, 
and wrangled among themselves for the half-used bottles of wine and relics 
of the refreshment which had been served round to the spectators.
Beyond the precincts of the lists more than one forge was erected; and 
these now began to glimmer through the twilight, announcing the toil of the 
armourers, which was to continue through the whole night, in order to 
repair or alter the suits of armour to be used again on the morrow.
A strong guard of men-at-arms, renewed at intervals, from two hours to two 
hours, surrounded the lists, and kept watch during the night.


Chapter 10

			Thus, like the sad presaging raven, that tolls
			The sick man's passport in her hollow beak,
			And in the shadow of the silent night
			Doth shake contagion from her sable wings;
			Vex'd and tormented, runs poor Barrabas,
			With fatal curses towards these Christians.
								-- Jew of Malta.

The Disinherited Knight had no sooner reached his pavilion, than squires 
and pages in abundance tendered their services to disarm him, to bring 
fresh attire, and to offer him the refreshment of the bath. Their zeal on 
this occasion was perhaps sharpened by curiosity, since every one desired 
to know who the knight was that had gained so many laurels, yet had 
refused, even at the command of Prince John, to lift his visor or to name 
his name. But their officious inquisitiveness was not gratified. The 
Disinherited Knight refused all other assistance save that of his own 
squire, or rather yeoman - a clownish-looking man, who, wrapped in a cloak 
of dark-coloured felt, and having his head and face half-buried in a Norman 
bonnet made of black fur, seemed to affect the incognito as much as his 
master. All others being excluded from the tent, this attendant relieved 
his master from the more burdensome parts of his armour, and placed food 
and wine before him, which the exertions of the day rendered very 
acceptable.
The Knight had scarcely finished a hasty meal, ere his menial announced to 
him that five men, each leading a barbed steed, desired to speak with him. 
The Disinherited Knight had exchanged his armour for the long robe usually 
worn by those of his condition, which, being furnished with a hood, 
concealed the features, when such was the pleasure of the wearer, almost as 
completely as the visor of the helmet itself, but the twilight, which was 
now fast darkening, would of itself have rendered a disguise unnecessary, 
unless to persons to whom the face of an individual chanced to be 
particularly well known.
The Disinherited Knight, therefore, stepped boldly forth to the front of 
his tent, and found in attendance the squires of the challengers, whom he 
easily knew by their russet and black dresses, each of whom led his 
master's charger, loaded with the armour in which he had that day fought.
"According to the laws of chivalry," said the foremost of these men, "I, 
Baldwin de Oyley, squire to the redoubted Knight Brian de Bois-Guilbert, 
make offer to you, styling yourself, for the present, the Disinherited 
Knight, of the horse and armour used by the said Brian de Bois-Guilbert in 
this day's Passage of Arms, leaving it with your nobleness to retain or to 
ransom the same, according to your pleasure; for such is the law of arms."
The other squires repeated nearly the same formula, and then stood to await 
the decision of the Disinherited Knight.
"To you four, sirs," replied the Knight, addressing those who had last 
spoken, "and to your honourable and valiant masters, I have one common 
reply. Commend me to the noble knights, your masters, and say, I should do 
ill to deprive them of steeds and arms which can never be used by braver 
cavaliers. - I would I could here end my message to these gallant knights; 
but being, as I term myself, in truth and earnest, the Disinherited, I must 
be thus far bound to your masters, that they will, of their courtesy, be 
pleased to ransom their steeds and armour, since that which I wear I can 
hardly term mine own."
"We stand commissioned, each of us," answered the squire of Reginald Front-
de-Boeuf, "to offer a hundred zecchins in ransom of these horses and suits 
of armour."
"It is sufficient," said the Disinherited Knight. "Half the sum my present 
necessities compel me to accept; of the remaining half, distribute one 
moiety among yourselves, sir squires, and divide the other half betwixt the 
heralds and the pursuivants, and minstrels, and attendants."
The squires, with cap in hand, and low reverences, expressed their deep 
sense of a courtesy and generosity not often practised, at least upon a 
scale so extensive. The Disinherited Knight then addressed his discourse to 
Baldwin, the squire of Brian de Bois-Guilbert. "From your master," said he, 
"I will accept neither arms nor ransom. Say to him in my name, that our 
strife is not ended - no, not till we have fought as well with swords as 
with lances - as well on foot as on horseback. To this mortal quarrel he 
has himself defied me, and I shall not forget the challenge. - Meantime, 
let him be assured, that I hold him not as one of his companions, with whom 
I can with pleasure exchange courtesies; but rather as one with whom I 
stand upon terms of mortal defiance."
"My master," answered Baldwin, "knows how to requite scorn with scorn, and 
blows with blows, as well as courtesy with courtesy, Since you disdain to 
accept from him any share of the ransom at which you have rated the arms of 
the other knights, I must leave his armour and his horse here, being well 
assured that he will never deign to mount the one nor wear the other."
"You have spoken well, good squire," said the Disinherited Knight, "well 
and boldly, as it beseemeth him to speak who answers for an absent master. 
Leave not, however, the horse and armour here. Restore them to thy master; 
or, if he scorns to accept them, retain them, good friend, for thine own 
use. So far as they are mine, I bestow them upon you freely."
Baldwin made a deep obeisance, and retired with his companions; and the 
Disinherited Knight entered the pavilion.
"Thus far, Gurth," said he, addressing his attendant, "the reputation of 
English chivalry hath not suffered in my hands."
"And I," said Gurth, "for a Saxon swineherd, have not ill played the 
personage of a Norman squire-at-arms."
"Yea, but," answered the Disinherited Knight, thou hast ever kept me in 
anxiety lest thy clownish bearing should discover thee."
"Tush!" said Gurth, "I fear discovery from none, saving my playfellow, 
Wamba the Jester, of whom I could never discover whether he were most knave 
or fool. Yet I could scarce choose but laugh, when my old master passed so 
near to me, dreaming all the while that Gurth was keeping his porkers many 
a mile off, in the thickets and swamps of Rotherwood. If I am discovered - 
"
"Enough," said the Disinherited Knight, "thou knowest my promise."
"Nay, for that matter," said Gurth, "I will never fail my friend for fear 
of my skin-cutting. I have a tough hide, that will bear knife or scourge as 
well as any boar's hide in my herd."
"Trust me, I will requite the risk you run for my love, Gurth," said the 
Knight. "Meanwhile, I pray you to accept these ten pieces of gold."
"I am richer," said Gurth, putting them into his pouch, "than ever was 
swineherd or bondsman."
"Take this bag of gold to Ashby," continued his master, "and find out Isaac 
the Jew of York, and let him pay himself for the horse and arms with which 
his credit supplied me."
"Nay, by St Dunstan," replied Gurth, "that I will not do."
"How, knave," replied his master, "wilt thou not obey my commands?"
"So they be honest, reasonable, and Christian commands," replied Gurth; 
"but this is none of these. To suffer the Jew to pay himself would be 
dishonest, for it would be cheating my master; and unreasonable, for it 
were the part of a fool; and unchristian, since it would be plundering a 
believer to enrich an infidel."
"See him contented, however, thou stubborn varlet," said the Disinherited 
Knight.
"I will do so," said Gurth, taking the bag under his cloak, and leaving the 
apartment; "and it will go hard," he muttered, "but I content him with one-
half of his own asking." So saying, he departed, and left the Disinherited 
Knight to his own perplexed ruminations; which, upon more accounts than it 
is now possible to communicate to the reader, were of a nature peculiarly 
agitating and painful.
We must now change the scene to the village of Ashby, or rather to a 
country house in its vicinity belonging to a wealthy Israelite, with whom 
Isaac, his daughter, and retinue, had taken up their quarters; the Jews, it 
is well known, being as liberal in exercising the duties of hospitality and 
charity among their own people, as they were alleged to be reluctant and 
churlish in extending them to those whom they termed Gentiles, and whose 
treatment of them certainly merited little hospitality at their hand.
In an apartment, small indeed, but richly furnished with decorations of an 
Oriental taste, Rebecca was seated on a heap of embroidered cushions, 
which, piled along a low platform that surrounded the chamber, served, like 
the estrada of the Spaniards, instead of chairs and stools. She was 
watching the motions of her father with a look of anxious and filial 
affection, while he paced the apartment with a dejected mien and disordered 
step; sometimes clasping his hands together - sometimes casting his eyes to 
the roof of the apartment, as one who laboured under great mental 
tribulation. "O, Jacob!" he exclaimed - "O, all ye twelve Holy Fathers of 
our tribe! what a losing venture is this for one who hath duly kept every 
jot and tittle of the law of Moses - Fifty zecchins wrenched from me at one 
clutch, and by the talons of a tyrant!"
"But, father," said Rebecca, "you seemed to give the gold to Prince John 
willingly."
"Willingly? the blotch of Egypt upon him! - Willingly, said'st thou? - Ay, 
as willingly as when, in the Gulf of Lyons, I flung over my merchandise to 
lighten the ship, while she laboured in the tempest - robed the seething 
billows in my choice silks - perfumed their briny foam with myrrh and aloes 
- enriched their caverns with gold and silver work! And was not that an 
hour of unutterable misery, though my own hands made the sacrifice?"
"But it was a sacrifice which Heaven exacted to save our lives," answered 
Rebecca, "and the God of our fathers has since blessed your store and your 
gettings."
"Ay," answered Isaac, "but if the tyrant lays hold on them as he did to-
day, and compels me to smile while he is robbing me? - O, daughter, 
disinherited and wandering as we are, the worst evil which befalls our race 
is, that when we are wronged and plundered, all the world laughs around, 
and we are compelled to suppress our sense of injury, and to smile tamely, 
when we would revenge bravely."
"Think not thus of it, my father," said Rebecca; "we also have advantages. 
These Gentiles, cruel and oppressive as they are, are in some sort 
dependent on the dispersed children of Zion, whom they despise and 
persecute. Without the aid of our wealth, they could neither furnish forth 
their hosts in war, nor their triumphs in peace, and the gold which we lend 
them returns with increase to our coffers. We are like the herb which 
flourisheth most when it is most trampled on. Even this day's pageant had 
not proceeded without the consent of the despised Jew, who furnished the 
means."
"Daughter," said Isaac, "thou hast harped upon another string of sorrow. 
The goodly steed and the rich armour, equal to the full profit of my 
adventure with our Kirjath Jairam of Leicester - there is a dead loss too - 
ay, a loss which swallows up the gains of a week; ay, of the space between 
two Sabaoths - and yet it may end better than I now think, for 'tis a good 
youth."
"Assuredly," said Rebecca, "you shall not repent you of requiting the good 
deed received of the stranger knight."
"I trust so, daughter," said Isaac, "and I trust too in the rebuilding of 
Zion; but as well do I hope with my own bodily eyes to see the walls and 
battlements of the new Temple, as to see a Christian, yea, the very best of 
Christains, repay a debt to a Jew, unless under the awe of the judge and 
jailor."
So saying, he resumed his discontented walk through the apartment; and 
Rebecca, perceiving that her attempts at consolation only served to awaken 
new subjects of complaint, wisely desisted from her unavailing efforts - a 
prudential line of conduct, and we recommend to all who set up for 
comforters and advisers, to follow it in the like circumstances.
The evening was now becoming dark, when a Jewish servant entered the 
apartment, and placed upon the table two silver lamps, fed with perfumed 
oil; the richest wines, and the most delicate refreshments, were at the 
same time displayed by another Israelitish domestic on a small ebony table, 
inlaid with silver; for, in the interior of their houses, the Jews refused 
themselves no expensive indulgences. At the same time the servant informed 
Isaac, that a Nazarene (so they termed Christians, while conversing among 
themselves) desired to speak with him. He that would live by traffic, must 
hold himself at the disposal of every one claiming business with him. Isaac 
at once replaced on the table the untasted glass of Greek wine which he had 
just raised to his lips, and saying hastily to his daughter, "Rebecca, veil 
thyself," commanded the stranger to be admitted.
Just as Rebecca had dropped over her fine features a screen of silver gauze 
which reached to her feet, the door opened, and Gurth entered, wrapped in 
the ample folds of his Norman mantle. His appearance was rather suspicious 
than prepossessing, especially as, instead of doffing his bonnet, he pulled 
it still deeper over his rugged brow.
"Art thou Isaac the Jew of York?" said Gurth, in Saxon.
"I am," replied Isaac, in the same language, (for his traffic had rendered 
every tongue spoken in Britain familiar to him) - "and who art thou?"
"That is not to the purpose," answered Gurth.
"As much as my name is to thee," replied Isaac; "for without knowing thine, 
how can I hold intercourse with thee?"
"Easily," answered Gurth; "I, being to pay money, must know that I deliver 
it to the right person; thou, who are to receive it, will not, I think, 
care very greatly by whose hands it is delivered."
"O," said the Jew, "you are come to pay moneys? - Holy Father Abraham! that 
altereth our relation to each other. And from whom dost thou bring it?"
"From the Disinherited Knight," said Gurth, "victor in this day's 
tournament. It is the price of the armour supplied to him by Kirjath Jairam 
of Leicester, on thy recommendation. The steed is restored to thy stable. I 
desire to know the amount of the sum which I am to pay for the armour."
"I said he was a good youth!" exclaimed Isaac with joyful exultation. "A 
cup of wine will do thee no harm," he added, filling and handing to the 
swineherd a richer drought than Gurth had ever before tasted. "And how much 
money," continued Isaac, "has thou brought with thee?"
"Holy Virgin!" said Gurth, setting down the cup, "what nectar these 
unbelieving dogs drink, while true Christians are fain to quaff ale as 
muddy and thick as the draff we give to hogs! - What money have I brought 
with me?" continued the Saxon, when he had finished this uncivil 
ejaculation, "even but a small sum; something in hand the whilst. What, 
Isaac! thou must bear a conscience, though it be a Jewish one."
"Nay, but," said Isaac, "thy master has won goodly steeds and rich armours 
with the strength of his lance, and of his right hand - but 'tis a good 
youth - the Jew will take these in present payment, and render him back the 
surplus."
"My master has disposed of them already," said Gurth.
"Ah! that was wrong," said the Jew, "that was the part of a fool. No 
Christians here could buy so many horses and armour - no Jew except myself 
would give him half the values. But thou hast a hundred zecchins with thee 
in that bag," said Isaac, prying under Gurth's cloak, "it is a heavy one."
"I have heads for cross-bow bolts in it," said Gurth, readily.
"Well, then" - said Isaac, panting and hesitating between habitual love of 
gain and a new-born desire to be liberal in the present instance, "if I 
should say that I would take eighty zecchins for the good steed and the 
rich armour, which leaves me not a guilder's profit, have you money to pay 
me?"
"Barely," said Gurth, though the sum demanded was more reasonable than he 
expected, "and it will leave my master nigh penniless. Nevertheless, if 
such be your least offer, I must be content."
"Fill thyself another goblet of wine," said the Jew. "Ah! eighty zeechins 
is too little. It leaveth no profit for the usages of the moneys; and, 
besides, the good horse may have suffered wrong in this day's encounter. O, 
it was a hard and a dangerous meeting! man and steed rushing on each other 
like wild bulls of Bashan! The horse cannot but have had wrong."
"And I say," replied Gurth, "he is sound, wind and limb; and you may see 
him now, in your stable. And I say, over and above, that seventy zecchins 
is enough for the armour, and I hope a Christian's word is as good as a 
Jew's. If you will not take seventy, I will carry this bag" (and he shook 
it till the contents jingled) "back to my master."
"Nay, nay!" said Isaac; "lay down the talents - the shekels - the eighty 
zecchins, and thou shalt see I will consider thee liberally."
Gurth at length complied; and telling out eighty zecchins upon the table, 
the Jew delivered out to him an acquittance for the horse and suit of 
armour. The Jew's hand trembled for joy as he wrapped up the first seventy 
pieces of gold. The last ten he told over with much deliberation, pausing, 
and saying something as he took each piece from the table, and dropped it 
into his purse. It seemed as if his avarice were struggling with his better 
nature, and compelling him to pouch zecchin after zecchin while his 
generosity urged him to restore some part at least to his benefactor, or as 
a donation to his agent. His whole speech ran nearly thus:
"Seventy-one - seventy-two; thy master is a good youth - seventy-three, an 
excellent youth - seventy-four - that piece hath been clipped within the 
ring - seventy-five - and that looketh light of weight - seventy-six - when 
thy master wants money, let him come to Isaac of York - seventy-seven - 
that is, with reasonable security." Here he made a considerable pause, and 
Gurth had good hope that the last three pieces might escape the fate of 
their comrades; but the enumeration proceeded. - "Seventy-eight - thou art 
a good fellow - seventy-nine - and deservest something for thyself - "
Here the Jew paused again, and looked at the last zecchin, intending, 
doubtless, to bestow it upon Gurth. He weighed it upon the tip of his 
finger, and made it ring by dropping it upon the table. Had it rung too 
flat, or had it felt a hair's breadth too light, generosity had carried the 
day; but, unhappily for Gurth, the chime was full and true, the zecchin 
plump, newly coined, and a grain above weight. Isaac could not find in his 
heart to part with it, so dropped it into his purse as if in absence of 
mind, with the words, "Eighty completes the tale, and I trust thy master 
will reward thee handsomely. - Surely," he added, looking earnestly at the 
bag, "thou hast more coins in that pouch?"
Gurth grinned, which was his nearest approach to a laugh, as he replied, 
"About the same quantity which thou hast just told over so carefully." He 
then folded the quittance, and put it under his cap, adding, - "Peril of 
thy heard, Jew, see that this be full and ample!" He filled himself 
unbidden, a third goblet of wine, and left the apartment without ceremony.
"Rebecca," said the Jew, "that Ishmaelite hath gone somewhat beyond me. 
Nevertheless his master is a good youth - ay, and I am well pleased that he 
hath gained shekels of gold and shekels of silver, even by the speed of his 
horse and by the strength of his lance, which, like that of Goliath the 
Philistine, might vie with a weaver's beam."
As he turned to receive Rebecca's answer, he observed, that during his 
chattering with Gurth, she had left the apartment unperceived.
In the meanwhile, Gurth had descended the stair, and, having reached the 
dark antechamber or hall, was puzzling about to discover the entrance, when 
a figure in white, shown by a small silver lamp which she held in her hand, 
beckoned him into a side apartment. Gurth had some reluctance to obey the 
summons. Rough and impetuous as a wild boar, where only earthly force was 
to be apprehended, he had all the characteristic terrors of a Saxon 
respecting fawns, forest-fiends, white women, and the whole of the 
superstitions which his ancestors had brought with them from the wilds of 
Germany. He remembered, moreover, that he was in the house of a Jew, a 
people who, besides the other unamiable qualities which popular report 
ascribed to them, were supposed to be profound necromancers and cabalists. 
Nevertheless, after a moment's pause, he obeyed the beckoning summons of 
the apparition, and followed her into the apartment which she indicated, 
where he found to his joyful surprise that his fair guide was the beautiful 
Jewess whom he had seen at the tournament, and a short time in her father's 
apartment.
She asked him the particulars of his transaction with Isaac, which he 
detailed accurately.
"My father did but jest with thee, good fellow," said Rebecca; "he owes thy 
master deeper kindness than these arms and steed could pay, were their 
value tenfold. What sum didst thou pay my father even now?"
"Eighty zecchins," said Gurth, surprised at the question.
"In this purse," said Rebecca, "thou wilt find a hundred. Restore to thy 
master that which is his due, and enrich thyself with the remainder. Haste 
- begone - stay not to render thanks! and beware how you pass through this 
crowded town, where thou mayst easily lose both thy burden and thy life. - 
Reuben," she added, clapping her hands together, "light forth this 
stranger, and fail not to draw lock and bar behind him."
Reuben, a dark-brow'd and black-bearded Israelite, obeyed her summons, with 
a torch in his hand; undid the outward door of the house, and conducting 
Gurth across a paved court, let him out through a wicket in the entrance-
gate, which he closed behind him with such bolts and chains as would well 
have become that of a prison.
"By St Dunstan," said Gurth, as he stumbled up the dark avenue, "this is no 
Jewess, but an angel from heaven! Ten zecchins from my brave young master - 
twenty from this pearl of Zion - Oh, happy day! - Such another, Gurth, will 
redeem thy bondage, and make thee a brother as free of thy guild as the 
best. And then do I lay down my swineherd's horn and staff, and take the 
freeman's sword and buckler, and follow my young master to the death, 
without hiding either my face or my name."


Chapter 11

1st Outlaw. 	Stand, sir, and throw us that you have about you;
		If not, we'll make you sit, and rifle you.
Speed. 		Sir, we are undone! these are the villains
		That all the travellers do fear so much.
Val. 		My friends, -
1st Outlaw	That's not so, sir, we are your enemies.
2d Outlaw		Peace! we'll hear him.
3d Outlaw		Ay, by my beard, will we; For he's a proper man.
						--Two Gentlemen of Verona.

The nocturnal adventures of Gurth were not yet concluded; indeed he himself 
became partly of that mind, when, after passing one or two straggling 
houses which stood in the outskirts of the village, he found himself in a 
deep lane, running between two banks overgrown with hazel and holly, while 
here and there a dwarf oak flung its arms altogether across the path. The 
lane was moreover much rutted and broken up by the carriages which had 
recently transported articles of various kinds to the tournament; and it 
was dark, for the banks and bushes intercepted the light of the harvest 
moon.
From the village were heard the distant sounds of revelry, mixed 
occasionally with loud laughter, sometimes broken by screams, and sometimes 
by wild strains of distant music. All these sounds, intimating the 
disorderly state of the town, crowded with military nobles and their 
dissolute attendants, gave Gurth some uneasiness. "The Jewess was right," 
he said to himself. "By heaven and St Dunstan, I would I were safe at my 
journey's end with all this treasure! Here are such numbers, I will not say 
of arrant thieves, but of errant knights and errant squires, errant monks 
and errant minstrels, errant jugglers and errant jesters, that a man with a 
single merk would be in danger, much more a poor swineherd with a whole 
bagful of zecchins. Would I were out of the shade of these infernal bushes, 
that I might at least see any of St Nicholas's clerks before they spring on 
my shoulders."
Gurth accordingly hastened his pace, in order to gain the open common to 
which the lane led, but was not so fortunate as to accomplish his object. 
Just as he had attained the upper end of the lane, where the underwood was 
thickest, four men sprung upon him, even as his fears anticipated, two from 
each side of the road, and seized him so fast, that resistance, if at first 
practicable, would have been now too late. - "Surrender your charge," said 
one of them; "we are the deliverers of the commonwealth, who ease every man 
of his burden."
"You should not ease me of mine so lightly," muttered Gurth, whose surly 
honesty could not be tamed even by the pressure of immediate violence, - 
"had I it but in my power to give three strokes in its defence."
"We shall see that presently," said the robber; and, speaking to his 
companions, he added, "bring along the knave. I see he would have his head 
broken, as well as his purse cut, and so be let blood in two veins at 
once."
Gurth was hurried along agreeably to this mandate, and having been dragged 
somewhat roughly over the bank, on the left-hand side of the lane, found 
himself in a straggling thicket, which lay betwixt it and the open common. 
He was compelled to follow his rough conductors into the very depth of this 
cover, where they stopped unexpectedly in an irregular open space, free in 
a great measure from trees, and on which, therefore, the beams of the moon 
fell without much interruption from boughs and leaves. Here his captors 
were joined by two other persons, apparently belonging to the gang. They 
had short swords by their sides, and quarter-staves in their hands, and 
Gurth could now observe that all six wore visors, which rendered their 
occupation a matter of no question, even had their former proceedings left 
it in doubt.
"What money hast thou, churl?" said one of the thieves.
"Thirty zecchins of my own property," answered Gurth, doggedly.
"A forfeit - a forfeit," shouted the robbers; "a Saxon hath thirty 
zecchins, and returns sober from a village! An undeniable and unredeemable 
forfeit of all he hath about him."
"I hoarded it to purchase my freedom," said Gurth.
"Thou art an ass," replied one of the thieves "three quarts of double ale 
had rendered thee as free as thy master, ay, and freer too, if he be a 
Saxon like thyself."
"A sad truth," replied Gurth; "but if these same thirty zecchins will buy 
my freedom from you, unloose my hands, and I will pay them to you."
"Hold," said one who seemed to exercise some authority over the others; 
"this bag which thou bearest, as I can feel through thy cloak, contains 
more coin than thou hast told us of."
"It is the good knight my master's," answered Gurth, "of which, assuredly, 
I would not have spoken a word, had you been satisfied with working your 
will upon mine own property."
"Thou art an honest fellow," replied the robber, "I warrant thee; and we 
worship not St Nicholas so devoutly but what thy thirty zecchins may yet 
escape, if thou deal uprightly with us. Meantime render up thy trust for a 
time." So saying, he took from Gurth's breast the large leathern pouch, in 
which the purse given him by Rebecca was enclosed, as well as the rest of 
the zecchins, and then continued his interrogation. - "Who is thy master?"
"The Disinherited Knight," said Gurth.
"Whose good lance," replied the robber, "won the prize in to-day's tourney? 
What is his name and lineage?"
"It is his pleasure," answered Gurth, "that they be concealed; and from me, 
assuredly, you will learn nought of them."
"What is thine own name and lineage?"
"To tell that," said Gurth, "might reveal my master's."
"Thou art a saucy groom," said the robber, "but of that anon. How comes thy 
master by this gold? is it of his inheritance, or by what means hath it 
accrued to him?"
"By his good lance," answered Gurth. - "These bags contain the ransom of 
four good horses, and four good suits of armour."
"How much is there?" demanded the robber.
"Two hundred zecchins."
"Only two hundred zecchins!" said the bandit; "your master hath dealt 
liberally by the vanquished, and put them to a cheap ransom. Name those who 
paid the gold."
Gurth did so.
"The armour and horse of the Templar Brian de Bois-Guilbert, at what ransom 
were they held? - Thou seest thou canst not deceive me."
"My master," replied Gurth, "will take nought from the Templar save his 
life's-blood. They are on terms of mortal defiance, and cannot hold 
courteous intercourse together."
"Indeed!" - repeated the robber, and paused after he had said the word. 
"And what wert thou now doing at Ashby with such a charge in thy custody?"
"I went thither to render to Isaac the Jew of York," replied Gurth, "the 
price of a suit of armour with which he fitted my master for this 
tournament."
"And how much didst thou pay to Isaac? - Methinks, to judge by weight, 
there is still two hundred zecchins in this pouch."
"I paid to Isaac," said the Saxon, "eighty zecchins, and he restored me a 
hundred in lieu thereof."
"How! what!" exclaimed all the robbers at once; "darest thou trifle with 
us, that thou tellest such improbable lies?"
"What I tell you," said Gurth, "is as true as the moon is in heaven. You 
will find the just sum in a silken purse within the leathern pouch, and 
separate from the rest of the gold."
"Bethink thee, man," said the Captain, "thou speakest of a Jew - of an 
Israelite, - as unapt to restore gold, as the dry sand of his deserts to 
return the cup of water which the pilgrim spills upon them."
"There is no more mercy in them," said another of the banditti, "than in an 
unbribed sheriffs officer."
"It is, however, as I say," said Gurth.
"Strike a light instantly," said the Captain; "I will examine this said 
purse; and if it be as this fellow says, the Jew's bounty is little less 
miraculous than the stream which relieved his fathers in the wilderness."
A light was procured accordingly, and the robber proceeded to examine the 
purse. The others crowded around him, and even two who had hold of Gurth 
relaxed their grasp while they stretched their necks to see the issue of 
the search. Availing himself of their negligence, by a sudden exertion of 
strength and activity, Gurth shook himself free of their hold, and might 
have escaped, could he have resolved to leave his master's property behind 
him. But such was no part of his intention. He wrenched a quarter-staff 
from one of the fellows, struck down the Captain, who was altogether 
unaware of his purpose, and had well-nigh repossessed himself of the pouch 
and treasure. The thieves, however, were too nimble for him, and again 
secured both the bag and the trusty Gurth.
"Knave!" said the Captain, getting up, "thou hast broken my head; and with 
other men of our sort thou wouldst fare the worse for thy insolence. But 
thou shalt know thy fate instantly. First let us speak of thy master; the 
knight's matters must go before the squire's, according to the due order of 
chivalry. Stand thou fast in the meantime - if thou stir again, thou shalt 
have that will make thee quiet for thy life - Comrades!" he then said, 
addressing his gang, "this purse is embroidered with Hebrew characters, and 
I well believe the yeoman's tale is true. The errant knight, his master, 
must needs pass us toll-free. He is too like ourselves for us to make booty 
of him, since dogs should not worry dogs where wolves and foxes are to be 
found in abundance."
"Like us?" answered one of the gang; "I should like to hear how that is 
made good."
"Why, thou fool," answered the Captain, "is he not poor and disinherited as 
we are? - Doth he not win his substance at the sword's point as we do? - 
Hath he not beaten Front-de-Boeuf and Malvoisin, even as we would beat them 
if we could? Is he not the enemy to life and death of Brian de Bois-
Guilbert, whom we have so much reason to fear? And were all this otherwise, 
wouldst thou have us show a worse conscience than an unbeliever, a Hebrew 
Jew?"
"Nay, that were a shame," muttered the other fellow; "and yet, when I 
served in the band of stout old Gandelyn, we had no such scruples of 
conscience. And this insolent peasant, - he too, I warrant me, is to be 
dismissed scatheless?"
"Not if thou canst scathe him," replied the Captain. - "Here, fellow," 
continued he, addressing Gurth, "canst thou use the staff, that thou starts 
to it so readily?"
"I think," said Gurth, "thou shouldst be best able to reply to that 
question."
"Nay, by my troth, thou gavest me a round knock," replied the Captain; "do 
as much for this fellow, and thou shalt pass scot-free; and if thou dost 
not - why, by my faith, as thou art such a sturdy knave, I think I must pay 
thy ransom myself. - Take thy staff, Miller," he added, "and keep thy head; 
and do you others let the fellow go, and give him a staff - there is light 
enough to lay on load by."
The two champions being alike armed with quarter-staves, stepped forward 
into the centre of the open space, in order to have the full benefit of the 
moonlight; the thieves in the meantime laughing, and crying to their 
comrade, "Miller! beware thy toll-dish." The Miller, on the other hand, 
holding his quarter-staff by the middle, and making it flourish round his 
head after the fashion which the French call faire le moulinet, exclaimed 
boastfully, "Come on, churl, an thou darest: thou shalt feel the strength 
of a miller's thumb!"
"If thou best a miller," answered Gurth, undauntedly, making his weapon 
play around his head with equal dexterity, "thou art doubly a thief, and I, 
as a true man, bid thee defiance."
So saying, the two champions closed together, and for a few minutes they 
displayed great equality in strength, courage, and skill, intercepting and 
returning the blows of their adversary with the most rapid dexterity, 
while, from the continued clatter of their weapons, a person at a distance 
might have supposed that there were at least six persons engaged on each 
side. Less obstinate, and even less dangerous combats, have been described 
in good heroic verse; but that of Gurth and the Miller must remain unsung, 
for want of a sacred poet to do justice to its eventful progress. Yet, 
though quarter-staff play be out of date, what we can in prose we will do 
for these bold champions.
Long they fought equally, until the Miller began to lose temper at finding 
himself so stoutly opposed, and at hearing the laughter of his companions, 
who, as usual in such cases, enjoyed his vexation. This was not a state of 
mind favourable to the noble game of quarter-staff, in which, as in 
ordinary cudgel-playing, the utmost coolness is requisite; and it gave 
Gurth, whose temper was steady, though surly, the opportunity of acquiring 
a decided advantage, in availing himself of which he displayed great 
mastery.
The Miller pressed furiously forward, dealing blows with either end of his 
weapon alternately, and striving to come to half-staff distance, while 
Gurth defended himself against the attack, keeping his hands about a yard 
asunder, and covering himself by shifting his weapon with great celerity, 
so as to protect his head and body. Thus did he maintain the defensive, 
making his eye, foot, and hand keep true time, until, observing his 
antagonist to lose wind, he darted the staff at his face with his left 
hand; and, as the Miller endeavoured to parry the thrust, he slid his right 
hand down to his left, and with the full swing of the weapon struck his 
opponent on the left side of the head, who instantly measured his length 
upon the green sward.
"Well and yeomanly done!" shouted the robbers; "fair play and Old England 
for ever! The Saxon hath saved both his purse and his hide, and the Miller 
has met his match."
"Thou mayst go thy ways, my friend," said the Captain, addressing Gurth, in 
special confirmation of the general voice, "and I will cause two of my 
comrades to guide thee by the best way to thy master's pavilion, and to 
guard thee from night-walkers that might have less tender consciences than 
ours; for there is many one of them upon the amble in such a night as this. 
Take heed, however," he added sternly; "remember thou hast refused to tell 
thy name - ask not after ours, nor endeavour to discover who or what we 
are; for, if thou makest such an attempt, thou wilt come by worse fortune 
than has yet befallen thee."
Gurth thanked the Captain for his courtesy, and promised to attend to his 
recommendation. Two of the outlaws, taking up their quarter-staves, and 
desiring Gurth to follow close in the rear, walked roundly forward along a 
by-path, which traversed the thicket and the broken ground adjacent to it. 
On the very verge of the thicket two men spoke to his conductors, and 
receiving an answer in a whisper, withdrew into the wood, and suffered them 
to pass unmolested. This circumstance induced Gurth to believe both that 
the gang was strong in numbers, and that they kept regular guards around 
their place of rendezvous.
When they arrived on the open heath, where Gurth might have had some 
trouble in finding his road, the thieves guided him straight forward to the 
top of a little eminence, whence he could see, spread beneath him in the 
moonlight, the palisades of the lists, the glimmering pavilions pitched at 
either end, with the pennons which adorned them fluttering in the 
moonbeams, and from which could be heard the hum of the song with which the 
sentinels were beguiling their night-watch.
Here the thieves stopped.
"We go with you no farther," said they; "it were not safe that we should do 
so. - Remember the warning you have received - keep secret what has this 
night befallen you, and you will have no room to repent it - neglect what 
is now told you, and the Tower of London shall not protect you against our 
revenge."
"Good night to you, kind sirs," said Gurth; "I shall remember your orders, 
and trust that there is no offence in wishing you a safer and an honester 
trade."
Thus they parted, the outlaws returning in the direction from whence they 
had come, and Gurth proceeding to the tent of his master, to whom, 
notwithstanding the injunction he had received, he communicated the whole 
adventures of the evening.
The Disinherited Knight was filled with astonishment, no less at the 
generosity of Rebecca, by which, however, he resolved he would not profit, 
than that of the robbers, to whose profession such a quality seemed totally 
foreign. His course of reflections upon these singular circumstances was, 
however, interrupted by the necessity for taking repose, which the fatigue 
of the preceding day, and the propriety of refreshing himself for the 
morrow's encounter, rendered alike indispensable.
The knight, therefore, stretched himself for repose upon a rich couch with 
which the tent was provided; and the faithful Gurth, extending his hardy 
limbs upon a bear-skin which formed a sort of carpet to the pavilion, laid 
himself across the opening of the tent, so that no one could enter without 
awakening him.


Chapter 12

			The heralds left their pricking up and down,
			Now ringen trumpets loud and clarion.
			There is no more to say, but east and west,
			In go the speares sadly in the rest,
			In goth the sharp spur into the side,
			There see men who can just and who can ride;
			There shiver shaftes upon shieldes thick,
			He feeleth through the heart-spone the prick;
			Up springen speares, twenty feet in height,
			Out go the swordes to the silver bright;
			The helms they to-hewn and to-sbred;
			Out burst the blood with stern streames red.
									-- Chaucer.


Morning arose in unclouded splendour, and ere the sun was much above the 
horizon, the idlest or the most eager of the spectators appeared on the 
common, moving to the lists as to a general centre, in order to secure a 
favourable situation for viewing the continuation of the expected games.
The marshals and their attendants appeared next on the field, together with 
the heralds, for the purpose of receiving the names of the knights who 
intended to joust, with the side which each chose to espouse. This was a 
necessary precaution, in order to secure equality betwixt the two bodies 
who should be opposed to each other.
According to due formality, the Disinherited Knight was to be considered as 
leader of the one body, while Brian de Bois-Guilbert, who had been rated as 
having done second-best in the preceding day, was named first champion of 
the other band. Those who had concurred in the challenge adhered to his 
party of course, excepting only Ralph de Vipont, whom his fall had rendered 
unfit so soon to put on his armour. There was no want of distinguished and 
noble candidates to fill up the ranks on either side.
In fact, although the general tournament, in which all knights fought at 
once, was more dangerous than single encounters, they were, nevertheless, 
more frequented and practised by the chivalry of the age. Many knights, who 
had not sufficient confidence in their own skill to defy a single adversary 
of high reputation, were, nevertheless, desirous of displaying their valour 
in the general combat, where they might meet others with whom they were 
more upon an equality. On the present occasion, about fifty knights were 
inscribed as desirous of combating upon each side, when the marshals 
declared that no more could be admitted, to the disappointment of several 
who were too late in preferring their claim to be included.
About the hour of ten o'clock, the whole plain was crowded with horsemen, 
horsewomen, and foot-passengers, hastening to the tournament; and shortly 
after, a grand flourish of trumpets announced Prince John and his retinue, 
attended by many of those knights who meant to take share in the game, as 
well as others who had no such intention.
About the same time arrived Cedric the Saxon, with the Lady Rowena, 
unattended, however, by Athelstane. This Saxon lord had arrayed his tall 
and strong person in armour, in order to take his place among the 
combatants; and, considerably to the surprise of Cedric, had chosen to 
enlist himself on the part of the Knight Templar. The Saxon, indeed, had 
remonstrated strongly with his friend upon the injudicious choice he had 
made of his party; but he had only received that sort of answer usually 
given by those who are more obstinate in following their own course, than 
strong in justifying it.
His best, if not his only reason, for adhering to the party of Brian de 
Bois-Guilbert, Athelstane had the prudence to keep to himself. Though his 
apathy of disposition prevented his taking any means to recommend himself 
to the Lady Rowena, he was, nevertheless, by no means insensible to her 
charms, and considered his union with her as a matter already fixed beyond 
doubt, by the assent of Cedric and her other friends. It had therefore been 
with smothered displeasure that the proud though indolent Lord of 
Coningsburgh beheld the victor of the preceding day select Rowena as the 
object of that honour which it became his privilege to confer. In order to 
punish him for a preference which seemed to interfere with his own suit, 
Athelstane, confident of his strength, and to whom his flatterers, at 
least, ascribed great skill in arms, had determined not only to deprive the 
Disinherited Knight of his powerful succour, but, if an opportunity should 
occur, to make him feel the weight of his battle-axe.
De Bracy, and other knights attached to Prince John, in obedience to a hint 
from him, had joined the party of the challengers, John being desirous to 
secure, if possible, the victory to that side. On the other hand, many 
other knights, both English and Norman, natives and strangers, took part 
against the challengers, the more readily that the opposite band was to be 
led by so distinguished a champion as the Disinherited Knight had approved 
himself.
As soon as Prince John observed that the destined Queen of the day had 
arrived upon the field, assuming that air of courtesy which sat well upon 
him when he was pleased to exhibit it, he rode forward to meet her, doffed 
his bonnet, and, alighting from his horse, assisted the Lady Rowena from 
her saddle, while his followers uncovered at the same time, and one of the 
most distinguished dismounted to hold her palfrey.
"It is thus," said Prince John, "that we set the dutiful example of loyalty 
to the Queen of Love and Beauty, and are ourselves her guide to the throne 
which she must this day occupy. - Ladies," he said, "attend your Queen, as 
you wish in your turn to be distinguished by like honours."
So saying, the Prince marshalled Rowena to the seat of honour opposite his 
own, while the fairest and most distinguished ladies present crowded after 
her to obtain places as near as possible to their temporary sovereign.
No sooner was Rowena seated, than a burst of music, half-drowned by the 
shouts of the multitude, greeted her new dignity. Meantime, the sun shone 
fierce and bright upon the polished arms of the knights of either side, who 
crowded the opposite extremities of the lists, and held eager conference 
together concerning the best mode of arranging their line of battle, and 
supporting the conflict.
The heralds then proclaimed silence until the laws of the tourney should be 
rehearsed. These were calculated in some degree to abate the dangers of the 
day; a precaution the more necessary, as the conflict was to be maintained 
with sharp swords and pointed lances.
The champions were therefore prohibited to thrust with the sword, and were 
confined to striking. A knight, it was announced, might use a mace or 
battle-axe at pleasure, but the dagger was a prohibited weapon. A knight 
unhorsed might renew the fight on foot with any other on the opposite side 
in the same predicament; but mounted horsemen were in that case forbidden 
to assail him. When any knight could force his antagonist to the extremity 
of the lists, so as to touch the palisade with his person or arms, such 
opponent was obliged to yield himself vanquished, and his armour and horse 
were placed at the disposal of the conqueror. A knight thus overcome was 
not permitted to take farther share in the combat. If any combatant was 
struck down, and unable to recover his feet, his squire or page might enter 
the lists, and drag his master out of the press; but in that case the 
knight was adjudged vanquished, and his arms and horse declared forfeited. 
The combat was to cease as soon as Prince John should throw down his 
leading staff, or truncheon; another precaution usually taken to prevent 
the unnecessary effusion of blood by the too long endurance of a sport so 
desperate. Any knight breaking the rules of the tournament, or otherwise 
transgressing the rules of honourable chivalry, was liable to be stripped 
of his arms, and, having his shield reversed to be placed in that posture 
astride upon the bars of the palisade, and exposed to public derision, in 
punishment of his unknightly conduct. Having announced these precautions, 
the heralds concluded with an exhortation to each good knight to do his 
duty, and to merit favour from the Queen of Beauty and of Love.
This proclamation having been made, the heralds withdrew to their stations. 
The knights, entering at either end of the lists in long procession, 
arranged themselves in a double file, precisely opposite to each other, the 
leader of each party being in the centre of the foremost rank, a post which 
he did not occupy until each had carefully marshalled the ranks of his 
party, and stationed every one in his place.
It was a goodly, and at the same time an anxious, sight, to behold so many 
gallant champions, mounted bravely, and armed richly, stand ready prepared 
for an encounter so formidable, seated on their war-saddles like so many 
pillars of iron, and awaiting the signal of encounter with the same ardour 
as their generous steeds, which, by neighing and pawing the ground, gave 
signal of their impatience.
As yet the knights held their long lances upright, their bright points 
glancing to the sun, and the streamers with which they were decorated 
fluttering over the plumage of the helmets. Thus they remained while the 
marshals of the field surveyed their ranks with the utmost exactness, lest 
either party had more or fewer than the appointed number. The tale was 
found exactly complete. The marshals then withdrew from the lists, and 
William de Wyvil, with a voice of thunder, pronounced the signal words - 
Laissez aller! The trumpets sounded as he spoke - the spears of the 
champions were at once lowered and placed in the rests - the spurs were 
dashed into the flanks of the horses, and the two foremost ranks of either 
party rushed upon each other in full gallop, and met in the middle of the 
lists with a shock, the sound of which was heard at a mile's distance. The 
rear rank of each party advanced at a slower pace to sustain the defeated, 
and follow up the success of the victors of their party.
The consequences of the encounter were not instantly seen, for the dust 
raised by the trampling of so many steeds darkened the air, and it was a 
minute ere the anxious spectator could see the fate of the encounter. When 
the fight became visible, half the knights on each side were dismounted, 
some by the dexterity of their adversary's lance, - some by the superior 
weight and strength of opponents, which had borne down both horse and man, 
- some lay stretched on earth as if never more to rise, - some had already 
gained their feet, and were closing hand to hand with those of their 
antagonists who were in the same predicament, - and several on both sides, 
who had received wounds by which they were disabled, were stopping their 
blood by their scarves, and endeavouring to extricate themselves from the 
tumult. The mounted knights, whose lances had been almost all broken by the 
fury of the encounter, were now closely engaged with their swords, shouting 
their war-cries, and exchanging buffets, as if honour and life depended on 
the issue of the combat.
The tumult was presently increased by the advance of the second rank on 
either side, which, acting as a reserve, now rushed on to aid their 
companions. The followers of Brian de Bois-Guilbert shouted - "Ha! Beau-
seant! Beau-seant! - For the Temple - For the Temple!" The opposite party 
shouted in answer - "Desdichado! Desdichado!" - which watch-word they took 
from the motto upon their leader's shield.
The champions thus encountering each other with the utmost fury, and with 
alternate success, the tide of battle seemed to flow now toward the 
southern, now toward the northern extremity of the lists, as the one or the 
other party prevailed. Meantime the clang of the blows, and the shouts of 
the combatants, mixed fearfully with the sound of the trumpets, and drowned 
the groans of those who fell, and lay rolling defenceless beneath the feet 
of the horses. The splendid armour of the combatants was now defaced with 
dust and blood, and gave way at every stroke of the sword and battle-axe. 
The gay plumage, shorn from the crests, drifted upon the breeze like snow-
flakes. All that was beautiful and graceful in the martial array had 
disappeared, and what was now visible was only calculated to awake terror 
or compassion.
Yet such is the force of habit, that not only the vulgar spectators, who 
are naturally attracted by sights of horror, but even the ladies of 
distinction who crowded the galleries, saw the conflict with a thrilling 
interest certainly, but without a wish to withdraw their eyes from a sight 
so terrible. Here and there, indeed, a fair cheek might turn pale, or a 
faint scream might be heard, as a lover, a brother, or a husband, was 
struck from his horse. But, in general, the ladies around encouraged the 
combatants, not only by clapping their hands and waving their veils and 
kerchiefs, but even by exclaiming, "Brave lance! Good sword!" when any 
successful thrust or blow took place under their observation.
Such being the interest taken by the fair sex in this bloody game, that of 
the men is the more easily understood. It showed itself in loud 
acclamations upon every change of fortune, while all eyes were so riveted 
on the lists, that the spectators seemed as if they themselves had dealt 
and received the blows which were there so freely bestowed. And between 
every pause was heard the voice of the heralds, exclaiming, "Fight on, 
brave knights! Man dies, but glory lives! - Fight on - death is better than 
defeat! - Fight on, brave knights! - for bright eyes behold your deeds!"
Amid the varied fortunes of the combat, the eyes of all endeavoured to 
discover the leaders of each band, who, mingling in the thick of the fight, 
encouraged their companions both by voice and example. Both displayed great 
feats of gallantry, nor did either Bois-Guilbert or the Disinherited Knight 
find in the ranks opposed to them a champion who could be termed their 
unquestioned match. They repeatedly endeavoured to single out each other, 
spurred by mutual animosity, and aware that the fall of either leader might 
be considered as decisive of victory. Such, however, was the crowd and 
confusion, that, during the earlier part of the conflict, their efforts to 
meet were unavailing, and they were repeatedly separated by the eagerness 
of their followers, each of whom was anxious to win honour, by measuring 
his strength against the leader of the opposite party.
But when the field became thin by the numbers on either side who had 
yielded themselves vanquished, had been compelled to the extremity of the 
lists, or been otherwise rendered incapable of continuing the strife, the 
Templar and the Disinherited Knight at length encountered hand to hand, 
with all the fury that mortal animosity, joined to rivalry of honour, could 
inspire. Such was the address of each in parrying and striking, that the 
spectators broke forth into a unanimous and involuntary shout, expressive 
of their delight and admiration.
But at this moment the party of the Disinherited Knight had the worst; the 
gigantic arm of Front-de-Boeuf on the one flank, and the ponderous strength 
of Athelstane on the other, bearing down and dispersing those immediately 
exposed to them. Finding themselves freed from their immediate antagonists, 
it seems to have occurred to both these knights at the same instant, that 
they would render the most decisive advantage to their party, by aiding the 
Templar in his contest with his rival. Turning their horses, therefore, at 
the same moment, the Norman spurred against the Disinherited Knight on the 
one side, and the Saxon on the other. It was utterly impossible that the 
object of this unequal and unexpected assault could have sustained it, had 
he not been warned by a general cry from the spectators, who could not but 
take interest in one exposed to such disadvantage.
"Beware! beware! Sir Disinherited!" was shouted so universally, that the 
knight became aware of his danger; and, striking a full blow at the 
Templar, he reined back his steed in the same moment, so as to escape the 
charge of Athelstane and Front-de-Boeuf. These knights, therefore, their 
aim being thus eluded, rushed from opposite sides betwixt the object of 
their attack and the Templar, almost running their horses against each 
other ere they could stop their career. Recovering their horses however, 
and wheeling them round, the whole three pursued their united purpose of 
bearing to the earth the Disinherited Knight.
Nothing could have saved him, except the remarkable strength and activity 
of the noble horse which he had won on the preceding day.
This stood him in the more stead, as the horse of Bois-Guilbert was 
wounded, and those of Front-de-Boeuf and Athelstane were both tired with 
the weight of their gigantic masters, clad in complete armour, and with the 
preceding exertions of the day. The masterly horsemanship of the 
Disinherited Knight, and the activity of the noble animal which he mounted, 
enabled him for a few minutes to keep at sword's point his three 
antagonists, turning and wheeling with the agility of a hawk upon the wing, 
keeping his enemies as far separate as he could, and rushing now against 
the one, now against the other, dealing sweeping blows with his sword, 
without waiting to receive those which were aimed at him in return.
But although the lists rang with the applauses of his dexterity, it was 
evident that he must at last be overpowered; and the nobles around Prince 
John implored him with one voice to throw down his warder, and to save so 
brave a knight from the disgrace of being overcome by odds.
"Not I, by the light of Heaven!" answered Prince John; "this same springal, 
who conceals his name, and despises our proffered hospitality, hath already 
gained one prize, and may now afford to let others have their turn." As he 
spoke thus, an unexpected incident changed the fortune of the day.
There was among the ranks of the Disinherited Knight a champion in black 
armour, mounted on a black horse, large of size, tall, and to all 
appearance powerful and strong, like the rider by whom he was mounted, This 
knight, who bore on his shield no device of any kind, had hitherto evinced 
very little interest in the event of the fight, beating off with seeming 
case those combatants who attacked him, but neither pursuing his 
advantages, nor himself assailing any one. In short, he had hitherto acted 
the part rather of a spectator than of a party in the tournament, a 
circumstance which procured him among the spectators the name of Le Noir 
Faineant, or the Black Sluggard.
At once this knight seemed to throw aside his apathy, when he discovered 
the leader of his party so hard bestead; for, setting spurs to his horse, 
which was quite fresh, he came to his assistance like a thunderbolt, 
exclaiming, in a voice like a trumpet-call, "Desdichado, to the rescue!" It 
was high time; for, while the Disinherited Knight was pressing upon the 
Templar, Front-de-Boeuf had got nigh to him with his uplifted sword; but 
ere the blow could descend, the Sable Knight dealt a stroke on his head, 
which, glancing from the polished helmet, lighted with violence scarcely 
abated on the chamfron of the steed, and Front-de-Boeuf rolled on the 
ground, both horse and man equally stunned by the fury of the blow. Le Noir 
Faineant then turned his horse upon Athelstane of Coningsburgh; and his own 
sword having been broken in his encounter with Front-de-Boeuf, he wrenched 
from the hand of the bulky Saxon the battle-axe which he wielded, and, like 
one familiar with the use of the weapon, bestowed him such a blow upon the 
crest, that Athelstane also lay senseless on the field. Having achieved 
this double feat, for which he was the more highly applauded that it was 
totally unexpected from him, the knight seemed to resume the sluggishness 
of his character, returning calmly to the northern extremity of the lists, 
leaving his leader to cope as he best could with Brian de Bois-Guilbert. 
This was no longer matter of so much difficulty as formerly. The Templars 
horse had bled much, and gave way under the shock of the Disinherited 
Knight's charge. Brian de Bois-Guilbert rolled on the field, encumbered 
with the stirrup, from which he was unable to draw his foot. His antagonist 
sprung from horseback, waved his fatal sword over the head of his 
adversary, and commanded him to yield himself; when Prince John, more moved 
by the Templars dangerous situation than he had been by that of his rival, 
saved him the mortification of confessing himself vanquished, by casting 
down his warder, and putting an end to the conflict.
It was, indeed, only the relics and embers of the fight which continued to 
burn; for of the few knights who still continued in the lists, the greater 
part had, by tacit consent, forborne the conflict for some time, leaving it 
to be determined by the strife of the leaders.
The squires, who had found it a matter of danger and difficulty to attend 
their masters during the engagement, now thronged into the lists to pay 
their dutiful attendance to the wounded, who were removed with the utmost 
care and attention to the neighbouring pavilions, or to the quarters 
prepared for them in the adjoining village.
Thus ended the memorable field of Ashby-de-la-Zouche, one of the most 
gallantly contested tournaments of that age; for although only four 
knights, including one who was smothered by the heat of his armour, had 
died upon the field, yet upwards of thirty were desperately wounded, four 
or five of whom never recovered. Several more were disabled for life; and 
those who escaped best carried the marks of the conflict to the grave with 
them. Hence it is always mentioned in the old records, as the Gentle and 
Joyous Passage of Arms of Ashby.
It being now the duty of Prince John to name the knight who had done best, 
he determined that the honour of the day remained with the knight whom the 
popular voice had termed Le Noir Faineant. It was pointed out to the 
Prince, in impeachment of this decree, that the victory had been in fact 
won by the Disinherited Knight, who, in the course of the day, had overcome 
six champions with his own hand, and who had finally unhorsed and struck 
down the leader of the opposite party. But Prince John adhered to his own 
opinion, on the ground that the Disinherited Knight and his party had lost 
the day, but for the powerful assistance of the Knight of the Black Armour, 
to whom, therefore, he persisted in awarding the prize.
To the surprise of all present, however, the knight thus preferred was 
nowhere to be found. He had left the lists immediately when the conflict 
ceased, and had been observed by some spectators to move down one of the 
forest glades with the same slow pace and listless and indifferent manner 
which had procured him the epithet of the Black Sluggard. After he had been 
summoned twice by sound of trumpet, and proclamation of the heralds, it 
became necessary to name another to receive the honours which had been 
assigned to him. Prince John had now no further excuse for resisting the 
claim of the Disinherited Knight, whom, therefore, he named the champion of 
the day.
Through a field slippery with blood, and encumbered with broken armour and 
the bodies of slain and wounded horses, the marshals of the lists again 
conducted the victor to the foot of Prince John's throne.
"Disinherited Knight," said Prince John, "since by that title only you will 
consent to be known to us, we a second time award to you the honours of 
this tournament, and announce to you your right to claim and receive from 
the hands of the Queen of Love and Beauty, the Chaplet of Honour which your 
valour has justly deserved." The Knight bowed low and gracefully, but 
returned no answer.
While the trumpets sounded, while the heralds strained their voices in 
proclaiming honour to the brave and glory to the victor - while ladies 
waved their silken kerchiefs and embroidered veils, and while all ranks 
joined in a clamorous shout of exultation, the marshals conducted the 
Disinherited Knight across the lists to the foot of that throne of honour 
which was occupied by the Lady Rowena.
On the lower step of this throne the champion was made to kneel down. 
Indeed his whole action since the fight had ended, seemed rather to have 
been upon the impulse of those around him than from his own free will; and 
it was observed that he tottered as they guided him the second time across 
the lists. Rowena, descending from her station with a graceful and 
dignified step, was about to place the chaplet which she held in her hand 
upon the helmet of the champion, when the marshals exclaimed with one 
voice, "It must not be thus - his head must be bare." The knight muttered 
faintly a few words, which were lost in the hollow of his helmet, but their 
purport seemed to be a desire that his casque might not be removed.
Whether from love of form, or from curiosity, the marshals paid no 
attention to his expressions of reluctance, but unhelmed him by cutting the 
laces of his casque, and undoing the fastening of his gorget. When the 
helmet was removed, the well-formed, yet sun-burnt features of a young man 
of twenty-five were seen, amidst a profusion of short fair hair. His 
countenance was as pale as death, and marked in one or two places with 
streaks of blood.
Rowena had no sooner beheld him than she uttered a faint shriek; but at 
once summoning up the energy of her disposition, and compelling herself, as 
it were, to proceed, while her frame yet trembled with the violence of 
sudden emotion, she placed upon the drooping head of the victor the 
splendid chaplet which was the destined reward of the day, and pronounced, 
in a clear and distinct tone, these words: "I bestow on thee this chaplet, 
Sir Knight, as the meed of valour assigned to this day's victor:" Here she 
paused a moment, and then firmly added, "And upon brows more worthy could a 
wreath of chivalry never be placed!"
The knight stooped his head, and kissed the hand of the lovely Sovereign by 
whom his valour had been rewarded; and then, sinking yet farther forward, 
lay prostrate at her feet.
There was a general consternation. Cedric, who had been struck mute by the 
sudden appearance of his banished son, now rushed forward, as if to 
separate him from Rowena. But this had been already accomplished by the 
marshals of the field, who, guessing the cause of Ivanhoe's swoon, had 
hastened to undo his armour, and found that the head of a lance had 
penetrated his breastplate, and inflicted a wound in his side.


Chapter 13

		"Heroes, approach!'" Atrides thus aloud,
		"Stand forth distinguish'd from the circling crowd,
		Ye who by skill or manly force may claim,
		Your rivals to surpass and merit fame.
		This cow, worth twenty oxen, is decreed,
		For him who farthest sends the winged reed."'
									-- Iliad.


The name of Ivanhoe was no sooner pronounced than it flew from mouth to 
mouth, with all the celerity with which eagerness could convey and 
curiosity receive it. It was not long ere it reached the circle of the 
Prince, whose brow darkened as he heard the news. Looking around him, 
however, with an air of scorn, "My Lords," said he, "and especially you, 
Sir Prior, what think ye of the doctrine the learned tell us, concerning 
innate attractions and antipathies? Methinks that I felt the presence of my 
brother's minion, even when I least guessed whom yonder suit of armour 
enclosed."
"Front-de-Boeuf must prepare to restore his fief of Ivanhoe," said De 
Bracy, who, having discharged his part honourably in the tournament, had 
laid his shield and helmet aside, and again mingled with the Prince's 
retinue.
"Ay," answered Waldemar Fitzurse, "this gallant is likely to reclaim the 
castle and manor which Richard assigned to him, and which your Highness's 
generosity has since given to Front-de-Boeuf."
"Front-de-Boeuf," replied John, "is a man more willing to swallow three 
manors such as Ivanhoe, than to disgorge one of them. For the rest, sirs, I 
hope none here will deny my right to confer the fiefs of the crown upon the 
faithful followers who are around me, and ready to perform the usual 
military service, in the room of those who have wandered to foreign 
Countries, and can neither render homage nor service when called upon."
The audience were too much interested in the question not to pronounce the 
Prince's assumed right altogether indubitable. "A generous Prince! - a most 
noble Lord, who thus takes upon himself the task of rewarding his faithful 
followers!"
Such were the words which burst from the train, expectants all of them of 
similar grants at the expense of King Richard's followers and favourites, 
if indeed they had not as yet received such. Prior Aymer also assented to 
the general proposition, observing, however, "That the blessed Jerusalem 
could not indeed be termed a foreign country. She was communis mater - the 
mother of all Christians. But he saw not," he declared, "how the Knight of 
Ivanhoe could plead any advantage from this, since he" (the Prior) "was 
assured that the crusaders, under Richard, had never proceeded much farther 
than Askalon, which, as all the world knew, was a town of the Philistines, 
and entitled to none of the privileges of the Holy City."
Waldemar, whose curiosity had led him towards the place where Ivanhoe had 
fallen to the ground, now returned. "The gallant," said he, "is likely to 
give your Highness little disturbance, and to leave Front-de-Boeuf in the 
quiet possession of his gains - he is severely wounded."
"Whatever becomes of him," said Prince John, "he is victor of the day; and 
were he tenfold our enemy, or the devoted friend of our brother, which is 
perhaps the same, his wounds must be looked to - our own physician shall 
attend him."
A stern smile curled the Prince's lip as he spoke. Waldemar Fitzurse 
hastened to reply, that Ivanhoe was already removed from the lists, and in 
the custody of his friends.
"I was somewhat afflicted," he said, "to see the grief of the Queen of Love 
and Beauty, whose sovereignty of a day this event has changed into 
mourning. I am not a man to be moved by a woman's lament for her lover, but 
this same Lady Rowena suppressed her sorrow with such dignity of manner, 
that it could only be discovered by her folded hands, and her tearless eye, 
which trembled as it remained fixed on the lifeless form before her."
"Who is this Lady Rowena," said Prince John, "of whom we have heard so 
much?"
"A Saxon heiress of large possessions," replied the Prior Aymer; "a rose of 
loveliness, and a jewel of wealth; the fairest among a thousand, a bundle 
of myrrh, and a cluster of camphire."
"We shall cheer her sorrows," said Prince John, "and amend her blood, by 
wedding her to a Norman. She seems a minor, and must therefore be at our 
royal disposal in marriage. - How sayst thou, De Bracy? What thinkst thou 
of gaining fair lands and livings, by wedding a Saxon, after the fashion of 
the followers of the Conqueror?"
"If the lands are to my liking, my lord," answered De Bracy, "it will be 
hard to displease me with a bride; and deeply will I hold myself bound to 
your highness for a good deed, which will fulfil all promises made in 
favour of your servant and vassal."
"We will not forget it," said Prince John; "and that we may instantly go to 
work, command our seneschal presently to order the attendance of the Lady 
Rowena and her company - that is, the rude churl her guardian, and the 
Saxon ox whom the Black Knight struck down in the tournament, upon this 
evening's banquet. - De Bigot," he added to his seneschal, "thou wilt word 
this our second summons so courteously, as to gratify the pride of these 
Saxons, and make it impossible for them again to refuse; although, by the 
bones of Becket, courtesy to them is casting pearls before swine."
Prince John had proceeded thus far, and was about to give the signal for 
retiring from the lists, when a small billet was put into his hand.
"From whence?" said Prince John, looking at the person by whom it was 
delivered.
"From foreign parts, my lord, but from whence I know not" replied his 
attendant. "A Frenchman brought it hither, who said, he had ridden night 
and day to put it into the hands of your highness."
The Prince looked narrowly at the superscription, and then at the seal, 
placed so as to secure the flex-silk with which the billet was surrounded, 
and which bore the impression of three fleurs-de-lis. John then opened the 
billet with apparent agitation, which visibly and greatly increased when he 
had perused the contents, which were expressed in these words -
"Take heed to yourself for the Devil is unchained!"
The Prince turned as pale as death, looked first on the earth, and then up 
to heaven, like a man who has received news that sentence of execution has 
been passed upon him. Recovering from the first effects of his surprise, he 
took Waldemar Fitzurse and De Bracy aside, and put the billet into their 
hands successively. "It means," he added, in a faltering voice, "that my 
brother Richard has obtained his freedom."
"This may be a false alarm, or a forged letter," said De Bracy.
"It is France's own hand and seal," replied Prince John.
"It is time, then," said Fitzurse, "to draw our party to a head, either at 
York, or some other centrical place. A few days later, and it will be 
indeed too late. Your highness must break short this present mummery."
"The yeomen and commons," said De Bracy, "must not be dismissed 
discontented, for lack of their share in the sports."
"The day," said Waldemar, "is not yet very far spent - let the archer's 
shoot a few rounds at the target, and the prize be adjudged. This will be 
an abundant fulfilment of the Prince's promises, so far as this herd of 
Saxon serfs is concerned."
"I thank thee, Waldemar," said the Prince; "thou remindest me, too, that I 
have a debt to pay to that insolent peasant who yesterday insulted our 
person. Our banquet also shall go forward to-night as we proposed. Were 
this my last hour of power, it should be an hour sacred to revenge and to 
pleasure - let new cares come with to-morrow's new day."
The sound of the trumpets soon recalled those spectators who had already 
begun to leave the field; and proclamation was made that Prince John, 
suddenly called by high and peremptory public duties, held himself obliged 
to discontinue the entertainments of to-morrow's festival: Nevertheless, 
that, unwilling so many good yeoman should depart without a trial of skill, 
he was pleased to appoint them, before leaving the ground, presently to 
execute the competition of archery intended for the morrow. To the best 
archer a prize was to be awarded, being a bugle-horn, mounted with silver, 
and a silken baldric richly ornamented with a medallion of St Hubert, the 
patron of silvan sport.
More than thirty yeomen at first presented themselves as competitors, 
several of whom were rangers and under-keepers in the royal forests of 
Needwood and Charnwood. When, however, the archers understood with whom 
they were to be matched, up wards of twenty withdrew themselves from the 
contest, unwilling to encounter the dishonour of almost certain defeat. For 
in those days the skill of each celebrated marksman was as well known for 
many miles round him, as the qualities of a horse trained at Newmarket are 
familiar to those who frequent that well-known meeting.
The diminished list of competitors for silvan fame still amounted to eight. 
Prince John stepped from his royal seat to view more nearly the persons of 
these chosen yeomen, several of whom wore the royal livery. Having 
satisfied his curiosity by this investigation, he looked for the object of 
his resentment, whom he observed standing on the same spot, and with the 
same composed countenance which he had exhibited upon the preceding day.
"Fellow," said Prince John, "I guessed by thy insolent babble that thou 
wert no true lover of the longbow, and I see thou darest not adventure thy 
skill among such merry-men as stand yonder."
"Under favour, sir," replied the yeoman, "I have another reason for 
refraining to shoot, besides the fearing discomfiture and disgrace."
"And what is thy other reason?" said Prince John, who, for some cause which 
perhaps he could not himself have explained, felt a painful curiosity 
respecting this individual.
"Because," replied the woodsman, "I know not if these yeomen and I are used 
to shoot at the same marks; and because, moreover, I know not how your 
Grace might relish the winning of a third prize by one who has unwittingly 
fallen under your displeasure."
Prince John coloured as he put the question, "What is thy name, yeoman?"
"Locksley," answered the yeoman.
"Then, Locksley," said Prince John, "thou shalt shoot in thy turn, when 
these yeomen have displayed their skill. If thou carriest the prize, I will 
add to it twenty nobles; but if thou losest it, thou shalt be stripped of 
thy Lincoln green, and scourged out of the lists with bowstrings, for a 
wordy and insolent braggart."
"And how if I refuse to shoot on such a wager?" said the yeoman. - "Your 
Grace's power, supported, as it is, by so many men-at-arms, may indeed 
easily strip and scourge me, but cannot compel me to bend or to draw my 
bow."
"If thou refusest my fair proffer," said the Prince, "the Provost of the 
lists shall cut thy bowstring, break thy bow and arrows, and expel thee 
from the presence as a faint-hearted craven."
"This is no fair chance you put on me, proud Prince," said the yeoman, "to 
compel me to peril myself against the best archers of Leicester And 
Staffordshire, under the penalty of infamy if they should overshoot me. 
Nevertheless, I will obey your pleasure."
"Look to him close, men-at-arms," said Prince John, "his heart is sinking; 
I am jealous lest he attempt to escape the trial. - And do you, good 
fellows, shoot boldly round; a buck and a butt of wine are ready for your 
refreshment in yonder tent, when the prize is won."
A target was placed at the upper end of the southern avenue which led to 
the lists. The contending archers took their station in turn, at the bottom 
of the southern access, the distance between that station and the mark 
allowing full distance for what was called a shot at rovers. The archers, 
having previously determined by lot their order of precedence, were to 
shoot each three shafts in succession. The sports were regulated by an 
officer of inferior rank, termed the Provost of the Games; for the high 
rank of the marshals of the lists would have been held degraded, had they 
condescended to superintend the sports of the yeomanry.
One by one the archers, stepping forward, delivered their shafts yeomanlike 
and bravely. Of twenty-four arrows, shot in succession, ten were fixed in 
the target, and the others ranged so near it, that, considering the 
distance of the mark, it was accounted good archery. Of the ten shafts 
which hit the target, two within the inner ring were shot by Hubert, a 
forester in the service of Malvoisin, who was accordingly pronounced 
victorious.
"Now, Locksley," said Prince John to the bold yeoman, with a bitter smile, 
"wilt thou try conclusions with Hubert, or wilt thou yield up bow, baldric, 
and quiver, to the Provost of the sports?"
"Sith it be no better," said Locksley, "I am content to try my fortune; on 
condition that when I have shot two shafts at yonder mark of Hubert's, he 
shall be bound to shoot one at that which I shall propose."
"That is but fair," answered Prince John, "and it shall not be refused 
thee. - If thou dost beat this braggart, Hubert, I will fill the bugle with 
silver-pennies for thee."

"A man can do but his best," answered Hubert; "but my grandsire drew a good 
long bow at Hastings, and I trust not to dishonour his memory."
The former target was now removed, and a fresh one of the same size placed 
in its room. Hubert, who, as victor in the first trial of skill, had the 
right to shoot first, took his aim with great deliberation, long measuring 
the distance with his eye, while he held in his hand his bended bow, with 
the arrow placed on the string. At length he made a step forward, and 
raising the bow at the full stretch of his left arm, till the centre or 
grasping-place was nigh level with his face, he drew his bowstring to his 
ear. The arrow whistled through the air, and lighted within the inner ring 
of the target, but not exactly in the centre.
"You have not allowed for the wind, Hubert," said his antagonist, bending 
his bow, "or that had been a better shot."
So saying, and without showing the least anxiety to pause upon his aim, 
Locksley stepped to the appointed station, and shot his arrow as carelessly 
in appearance as if he had not even looked at the mark. He was speaking 
almost at the instant that the shaft left the bowstring, yet it alighted in 
the target two inches nearer to the white spot which marked the centre than 
that of Hubert.
"By the light of heaven!" said Prince John to Hubert, "an thou suffer that 
runagate knave to overcome thee, thou art worthy of the gallows!"
Hubert had but one set speech for all occasions. "An your highness were to 
hang me," he said, " a man can but do his best. Nevertheless, my grandsire 
drew a good bow - "
"The foul fiend on thy grandsire and all his generation!" interrupted John 
, "shoot, knave, and shoot thy best, or it shall be the worse for thee!"
Thus exhorted, Hubert resumed his place, and not neglecting the caution 
which he had received from his adversary, he made the necessary allowance 
for a very light air of wind, which had just arisen, and shot so 
successfully that his arrow alighted in the very centre of the target.
"A Hubert! a Hubert!" shouted the populace, more interested in a known 
person than in a stranger. "In the clout! - in the clout! - a Hubert for 
ever!"
"Thou canst not mend that shot, Locksley," said the Prince, with an 
insulting smile.
"I will notch his shaft for him, however," replied Locksley.
And letting fly his arrow with a little more precaution than before, it 
lighted right upon that of his competitor, which it split to shivers. The 
people who stood around were so astonished at his wonderful dexterity, that 
they could not even give vent to their surprise in their usual clamour. 
"This must be the devil, and no man of flesh and blood," whispered the 
yeoman to each other; "such archery was never seen since a bow was first 
bent in Britain."
"And now," said Locksley, "I will crave your Grace's permission to plant 
such a mark as is used in the North Country; and welcome every brave yeoman 
who shall try a shot at it to win a smile from the bonny lass he loves 
best."
He then turned to leave the lists. "Let your guards attend me," he said, 
"if you please - I go but to cut a rod from the next willow-bush."
Prince John made a signal that some attendants should follow him in case of 
his escape: but the cry of "Shame! shame!" which burst from the multitude, 
induced him to alter his ungenerous purpose.
Locksley returned almost instantly with a willow wand about six feet in 
length, perfectly straight, and rather thicker than a man's thumb. He began 
to peel this with great composure, observing at the same time, that to ask 
a good woodsman to shoot at a target so broad as had hitherto been used, 
was to put shame upon his skill. "For his own part," he said, "and in the 
land where he was bred, men would as soon take for their mark King Arthur's 
round-table, which held sixty knights around it. A child of seven years 
old," he said, " might hit yonder target with a headless shaft; but," added 
he, walking deliberately to the other end of the lists, and sticking the 
willow wand upright in the ground, "he that hits that rod at five-score 
yards, I call him an archer fit to bear both bow and quiver before a king, 
an it were the stout King Richard himself."
"My grandsire," said Hubert, "drew a good bow at the battle of Hastings, 
and never shot at such a mark in his life - and neither will I. If this 
yeoman can cleave that rod, I give him the bucklers - or rather, I yield to 
the devil that is in his jerkin, and not to any human skill; a man can but 
do his best, and I will not shoot where I am sure to miss. I might as well 
shoot at the edge of our parson's whittle, or at a wheat straw, or at a 
sunbeam, as at a twinkling white streak which I can hardly see."
"Cowardly dog!" said Prince John. - "Sirrah Locksley, do thou shoot; but, 
if thou hittest such a mark, I will say thou art the first man ever did so. 
However it be, thou shalt not crow over us with a mere show of superior 
skill."
"I will do my best, as Hubert says," answered Locksley; "no man can do 
more."
So saying, he again bent his bow, but on the present occasion looked with 
attention to his weapon, and changed the string, which he thought was no 
longer truly round, having been a little frayed by the two former shots. He 
then took his aim with some deliberation, and the multitude awaited the 
event in breathless silence. The archer vindicated their opinion of his 
skill: his arrow split the willow rod against which it was aimed. A jubilee 
of acclamations followed; and even Prince John, in admiration of Locksley's 
skill, lost for an instant his dislike to his person. "These twenty 
nobles," he said, "which, with the bugle, thou hast fairly won, are thine 
own; we will make them fifty, if thou wilt take livery and service with us 
as a yeoman of our body guard, and be near to our person. For never did so 
strong a hand bend a bow, or so true an eye direct a shaft."
"Pardon me, noble Prince," said Locksley; "but I have vowed, that if ever I 
take service, it should be with your royal brother King Richard. These 
twenty nobles I leave to Hubert, who has this day drawn as brave a bow as 
his grandsire did at Hastings. Had his modesty not refused the trial, he 
would have hit the wand as well I."
Hubert shook his head as he received with reluctance the bounty of the 
stranger, and Locksley, anxious to escape further observation, mixed with 
the crowd, and was seen no more.
The victorious archer would not perhaps have escaped John's attention so 
easily, had not that Prince had other subjects of anxious and more 
important meditation pressing upon his mind at that instant. He called upon 
his chamberlain as he gave the signal for retiring from the lists, and 
commanded him instantly to gallop to Ashby, and seek out Isaac the Jew. 
"Tell the dog," he said, "to send me, before sun-down, two thousand crowns. 
He knows the security; but thou mayst show him this ring for a token. The 
rest of the money must be paid at York within six days. If he neglects, I 
will have the unbelieving villain's head. Look that thou pass him not on 
the way; for the circumcised slave was displaying his stolen finery amongst 
us."
So saying, the Prince resumed his horse, and returned to Ashby, the whole 
crowd breaking up and dispersing upon his retreat.


Chapter 14

				In rough magnificence array'd,
				When ancient Chivalry display'd
				The pomp of her heroic games,
				And crested chiefs and tissued dames
				Assembled, at the clarion's call,
				In some proud castle's high arch'd hall.
								-- Warton.

Prince John held his high festival in the Castle of Ashby. This was not the 
same building of which the stately ruins still interest the traveller, and 
which was erected at a later period by the Lord Hastings, High Chamberlain 
of England, one of the first victims of the tyranny of Richard the Third, 
and yet better known as one of Shakspeare's characters than by his 
historical fame. The castle and town of Ashby, at this time, belonged to 
Roger de Quincy, Earl of Winchester, who, during the period of our history, 
was absent in the Holy Land. Prince John, in the meanwhile, occupied his 
castle, and disposed of his domains without scruple; and seeking at present 
to dazzle men's eyes by his hospitality and magnificence, had given orders 
for great preparations, in order to render the banquet as splendid as 
possible.
The purveyors of the Prince, who exercised on this and other occasions the 
full authority of royalty, had swept the country of all that could be 
collected which was esteemed fit for their master's table. Guests also were 
invited in great numbers; and in the necessity in which he then found 
himself of courting popularity, Prince John had extended his invitation to 
a few distinguished Saxon and Danish families, as well as to the Norman 
nobility and gentry of the neighbourhood. However despised and degraded on 
ordinary occasions, the great numbers of the Anglo-Saxons must necessarily 
render them formidable in the civil commotions which seemed approaching, 
and it was an obvious point of policy to secure popularity with their 
leaders.
It was accordingly the Prince's intention, which he for some time 
maintained, to treat these unwonted guests with a courtesy to which they 
had been little accustomed. But although no man with less scruple made his 
ordinary habits and feelings bend to his interest, it was the misfortune of 
this Prince, that his levity and petulance were perpetually breaking out, 
and undoing all that had been gained by his previous dissimulation.
Of this fickle temper he gave a memorable example in Ireland, when sent 
thither by his father, Henry the Second, with the purpose of buying golden 
opinions of the inhabitants of that new and important acquisition to the 
English crown. Upon this occasion the Irish chieftains contended which 
should first offer to the young Prince their loyal homage and the kiss of 
peace. But, instead of receiving their salutations with courtesy, John and 
his petulant attendants could not resist the temptation of pulling the long 
beards of the Irish chieftains; a conduct which, as might have been 
expected, was highly resented by these insulted dignitaries, and produced 
fatal consequences to the English domination in Ireland. It is necessary to 
keep these inconsistencies of John's character in view, that the reader may 
understand his conduct during the present evening.
In execution of the resolution which he had formed during his cooler 
moments, Prince John received Cedric and Athelstane with distinguished 
courtesy, and expressed his disappointment, without resentment, when the 
indisposition of Rowena was alleged by the former as a reason for her not 
attending upon his gracious summons. Cedric and Athelstane were both 
dressed in the ancient Saxon garb, which, although not unhandsome in 
itself, and in the present instance composed of costly materials, was so 
remote in shape and appearance from that of the other guests, that Prince 
John took great credit to himself with Waldemar Fitzurse for refraining 
from laughter at a sight which the fashion of the day rendered ridiculous. 
Yet, in the eye of sober judgement, the short close tunic and long mantle 
of the Saxons was a more graceful, as well as a more convenient dress, than 
the garb of the Normans, whose under garment was a long doublet, so loose 
as to resemble a shirt or waggoner's frock, covered by a cloak of scanty 
dimensions, neither fit to defend the wearer from cold or from rain, and 
the only purpose of which appeared to be to display as much fur, 
embroidery, and jewellery work, as the ingenuity of the tailor could 
contrive to lay upon it. The Emperor Charlemagne, in whose reign they were 
first introduced, seems to have been very sensible of the inconveniences 
arising from the fashion of this garment. "In Heaven's name," said he, "to 
what purpose serve these abridged cloaks? If we are in bed they are no 
cover, on horseback they are no protection from the wind and rain, and when 
seated, they do not guard our legs from the damp or the frost."
Nevertheless, spite of this imperial objurgation, the short cloaks 
continued in fashion down to the time of which we treat, and particularly 
among the princes of the House of Anjou. They were therefore in universal 
use among Prince John's courtiers; and the long mantle, which formed the 
upper garment of the Saxons, was held in proportional derision.
The guests were seated at a table which groaned under the quantity of good 
cheer. The numerous cooks who attended on the Prince's progress, having 
exerted all their art in varying the forms in which the ordinary provisions 
were served up, had succeeded almost as well as the modern professors of 
the culinary art in rendering them perfectly unlike their natural 
appearance. Besides these dishes of domestic origin, there were various 
delicacies brought from foreign parts, and a quantity of rich pastry, as 
well as of the simnel-bread and wastel cakes, which were only used at the 
tables of the highest nobility. The banquet was crowned with the richest 
wines, both foreign and domestic.
But, though luxurious, the Norman nobles were not generally speaking an 
intemperate race. While indulging themselves in the pleasures of the table, 
they aimed at delicacy, but avoided excess, and were apt to attribute 
gluttony and drunkenness to the vanquished Saxons, as vices peculiar to 
their inferior station. Prince John, indeed, and those who courted his 
pleasure by imitating his foibles, were apt to indulge to excess in the 
pleasures of the trencher and the goblet; and indeed it is well known that 
his death was occasioned by a surfeit upon peaches and new ale. His 
conduct, however, was an exception to the general manners of his 
countrymen.
With sly gravity, interrupted only by private signs to each other, the 
Norman knights and nobles beheld the ruder demeanour of Athelstane and 
Cedric at a banquet, to the form and fashion of which they were 
unaccustomed. And while their manners were thus the subject of sarcastic 
observation, the untaught Saxons unwittingly transgressed several of the 
arbitrary rules established for the regulation of society. Now, it is well 
known, that a man may with more impunity be guilty of an actual breach 
either of real good breeding or of good morals, than appear ignorant of the 
most minute point of fashionable etiquette. Thus Cedric, who dried his 
hands with a towel, instead of suffering the moisture to exhale by waving 
them gracefully in the air, incurred more ridicule than his companion 
Athelstane, when he swallowed to his own single share the whole of a large 
pasty composed of the most exquisite foreign delicacies, and termed at that 
time a 'Karum-Pie'. When, however, it was discovered, by a serious cross-
examination, that the Thane of Coningsburgh (or Franklin, as the Normans 
termed him) had no idea what he had been devouring, and that he had taken 
the contents of the Karum-pie for larks and pigeons, whereas they were in 
fact beccaficoes and nightingales, his ignorance brought him in for an 
ample share of the ridicule which would have been more justly bestowed on 
his gluttony.
The long feast had at length its end; and, while the goblet circulated 
freely, men talked of the feats of the preceding tournament, - of the 
unknown victor in the archery games, of the Black Knight, whose self-denial 
had induced him to withdraw from the honours he had won, - and of the 
gallant Ivanhoe, who had so dearly bought the honours of the day. The 
topics were treated with military frankness, and the jest and laugh went 
round the hall. The brow of Prince John alone was overclouded during these 
discussions; some overpowering care seemed agitating his mind, and it was 
only when he received occasional hints from his attendants, that he seemed 
to take interest in what was passing around him. On such occasions he would 
start up, quaff a cup of wine as if to raise his spirits, and then mingle 
in the conversation by some observation made abruptly or at random.
"We drink this beaker," said he, "to the health of Wilfred of Ivanhoe, 
champion of this Passage of Arms, and grieve that his wound renders him 
absent from our board - Let all fill to the pledge, and especially Cedric 
of Rotherwood, the worthy father of a son so promising."
"No, my lord," replied Cedric, standing up, and placing on the table his 
untasted cup, "I yield not the name of son to the disobedient youth, who at 
once despises my commands, and relinquishes the manners and customs of his 
fathers."
"'Tis impossible," cried Prince John, with well-feigned astonishment, "that 
so gallant a knight should be an unworthy or disobedient son!"
"Yet, my lord," answered Cedric, "so it is with this Wilfred. He left my 
homely dwelling to mingle with the gay nobility of your brother's court, 
where he learned to do those tricks of horsemanship which you prize so 
highly. He left it contrary to my wish and command; and in the days of 
Alfred that would have been termed disobedience - ay, and a crime severely 
punishable."
"Alas!" replied Prince John, with a deep sigh of affected sympathy, "since 
your son was a follower of my unhappy brother, it need not be enquired 
where or from whom he learned the lesson of filial disobedience."
Thus spake Prince John, wilfully forgetting, that of all the sons of Henry 
the Second, though no one was free from the charge, he himself had been 
most distinguished for rebellion and ingratitude to his father.
"I think," said be, after a moment's pause, "that my brother proposed to 
confer upon his favourite the rich manor of Ivanhoe."
"He did endow him with it," answered Cedric; "nor is it my least quarrel 
with my son, that he stooped to hold, as a feudal vassal, the very domains 
which his fathers possessed in free and independent right."
"We shall then have your willing sanction, good Cedric," said Prince John, 
"to confer this fief upon a person whose dignity will not be diminished by 
holding land of the British crown. - Sir Reginald Front-de-Boeuf," he said, 
turning towards that Baron, "I trust you will so keep the goodly Barony of 
Ivanhoe, that Sir Wilfred shall not incur his father's farther displeasure 
by again entering upon that fief."
"By St Anthony!" answered the black-brow'd giant, "I will consent that your 
highness shall hold me a Saxon, if either Cedric or Wilfred, or the best 
that ever bore English blood, shall wrench from me the gift with which your 
highness has graced me."
"Whoever shall call thee Saxon, Sir Baron," replied Cedric, offended at a 
mode of expression by which the Normans frequently expressed their habitual 
contempt of the English, "will do thee an honour as great as it is 
undeserved."
Front-de-Boeuf would have replied, but Prince John's petulance and levity 
got the start.
"Assuredly," said be, "my lords, the noble Cedric speaks truth; and his 
race may claim precedence over us as much in the length of their pedigrees 
as in the longitude of their cloaks."
"They go before us indeed in the field - as deer before dogs," said 
Malvoisin.
"And with good right may they go before us - forget not," said the Prior 
Aymer, "the superior decency and decorum of their manners."
"Their singular abstemiousness and temperance," said De Bracy, forgetting 
the plan which promised him a Saxon bride.
"Together with the courage and conduct," said Brian de Bois-Guilbert, "by 
which they distinguished themselves at Hastings and elsewhere."
While, with smooth and smiling cheek, the courtiers, each in turn, followed 
their Prince's example, and aimed a shaft of ridicule at Cedric, the face 
of the Saxon became inflamed with passion, and he glanced his eyes fiercely 
from one to another, as if the quick succession of so many injuries had 
prevented his replying to them in turn; or, like a baited bull, who, 
surrounded by his tormentors, is at a loss to choose from among them the 
immediate object of his revenge. At length he spoke, in a voice half choked 
with passion; and, addressing himself to Prince John as the head and front 
of the offence which he had received, "Whatever," he said, "have been the 
follies and vices of our race, a Saxon would have been held nidering," (the 
most emphatic term for abject worthlessness,) "who should in his own hall, 
and while his own wine-cup passed, have treated, or suffered to be treated, 
an unoffending guest as your highness has this day beheld me used; and 
whatever was the misfortune of our fathers on the field of Hastings, those 
may at least be silent," here he looked at Front-de-Boeuf and the Templar, 
"who have within these few hours once and again lost saddle and stirrup 
before the lance of a Saxon."
"By my faith, a biting jest!" said Prince John. "How like you it, sirs? - 
Our Saxon subjects rise in spirit and courage; become shrewd in wit, and 
bold in bearing, in these unsettled times - What say ye, my lords? - By 
this good light, I hold it best to take our galleys, and return to Normandy 
in time."
"For fear of the Saxons?" said De Bracy, laughing; "we should need no 
weapon but our hunting spears to bring these boars to bay."
"A truce with your raillery, Sir Knights," said Fitzurse; - "and it were 
well," he added, addressing the Prince, "that your highness should assure 
the worthy Cedric there is no insult intended him by jests, which must 
sound but harshly in the ear of a stranger."
"Insult?" answered Prince John, resuming his courtesy of demeanour; "I 
trust it will not be thought that I could mean, or permit any, to be 
offered in my presence. Here! I fill my cup to Cedric himself, since he 
refuses to pledge his son's health."
The cup went round amid the well-dissembled applause of the courtiers, 
which, however, failed to make the impression on the mind of the Saxon that 
had been designed. He was not naturally acute of perception, but those too 
much undervalued his understanding who deemed that this flattering 
compliment would obliterate the sense of the prior insult. He was silent, 
however, when the royal pledge again passed round, "To Sir Athelstane of 
Coningsburgh."
The knight made his obeisance, and showed his sense of the honour by 
draining a huge goblet in answer to it.
"And now, sirs," said Prince John, who began to be warmed with the wine 
which he had drank, "having done justice to our Saxon guests, we will pray 
of them some requital to our courtesy. - Worthy Thane," he continued, 
addressing Cedric, "may we pray you to name to us some Norman whose mention 
may least sully your mouth, and to wash down with a goblet of wine all 
bitterness which the sound may leave behind it?"
Fitzurse arose while Prince John spoke, and gliding behind the seat of the 
Saxon, whispered to him not to omit the opportunity of putting an end to 
unkindness betwixt the two races, by naming Prince John. The Saxon replied 
not to this politic insinuation, but, rising up, and filling his cup to the 
brim, be addressed Prince John in these words: "Your highness has required 
that I should name a Norman deserving to be remembered at our banquet. 
This, perchance, is a hard task, since it calls on the slave to sing the 
praises of the master - upon the vanquished, while pressed by all the evils 
of conquest, to sing the praises of the conqueror. Yet I will name a Norman 
- the first in arms and in place - the best and the noblest of his race. 
And the lips that shall refuse to pledge me to his well-earned fame, I term 
false and dishonoured, and will so maintain them with my life. - I quaff 
this goblet to the health of Richard the Lion-hearted!"
Prince John, who had expected that his own name would have closed the 
Saxon's speech, started when that of his injured brother was so 
unexpectedly introduced. He raised mechanically the wine-cup to his lips, 
then instantly set it down, to view the demeanour of the company at this 
unexpected proposal, which many of them felt it as unsafe to oppose as to 
comply with. Some of them, ancient and experienced courtiers, closely 
imitated the example of the Prince himself, raising the goblet to their 
lips, and again replacing it before them. There were many who, with a more 
generous feeling, exclaimed, "Long live King Richard! and may he be 
speedily restored to us!" And some few, among whom were Front-de-Boeuf and 
the Templar, in sullen disdain suffered their goblets to stand untasted 
before them. But no man ventured directly to gainsay a pledge filled to the 
health of the reigning monarch.
Having enjoyed his triumph for about a minute, Cedric said to his 
companion, "Up, noble Athelstane! we have remained here long enough, since 
we have requited the hospitable courtesy of Prince John's banquet. Those 
who wish to know further of our rude Saxon manners must henceforth seek us 
in the homes of our fathers, since we have seen enough of royal banquets, 
and enough of Norman courtesy."
So saying, he arose and left the banqueting room, followed by Athelstane, 
and by several other guests, who, partaking of the Saxon lineage, held 
themselves insulted by the sarcasms of Prince John and his courtiers.
"By the bones of St Thomas," said Prince John, as they retreated, "the 
Saxon churls have borne off the best of the day, and have retreated with 
triumph!"
"Conclamatum est, poculatum est," said Prior Aymer; "we have drunk and we 
have shouted, - it were time we left our wine flagons."
"The monk hath some fair penitent to shrive to-night, that he is in such a 
hurry to depart," said De Bracy.
"Not so, Sir Knight," replied the Abbot; "but I must move several miles 
forward this evening upon my homeward journey."
"They are breaking up," said the Prince in a whisper to Fitzurse; "their 
fears anticipate the event, and this coward Prior is the first to shrink 
from me."
"Fear not, my lord," said Waldemar; "I will show him such reasons as shall 
induce him to join us when we hold our meeting at York. - Sir Prior," he 
said, "I must speak with you in private, before you mount your palfrey."
The other guests were now fast dispersing, with the exception of those 
immediately attached to, Prince John's faction, and his retinue.
"This, then, is the result of your advice," said the Prince, turning an 
angry countenance upon Fitzurse; "that I should be bearded at my own board 
by a drunken Saxon churl, and that, on the mere sound of my brother's name, 
men should fall off from me as if I had the leprosy?"
"Have patience, sir," replied his counsellor; "I might retort your 
accusation, and blame the inconsiderate levity which foiled my design, and 
misled your own better judgement. But this is no time for recrimination. De 
Bracy and I will instantly go among these shuffling cowards, and convince 
them they have gone too far to recede."
"It will be in vain," said Prince John, pacing the apartment with 
disordered steps, and expressing himself with an agitation to which the 
wine he had drank partly contributed - "It will be in vain - they have seen 
the handwriting on the wall - they have marked the paw of the lion in the 
sand - they have heard his approaching roar shake the wood - nothing will 
reanimate their courage."
"Would to God," said Fitzurse to De Bracy, "that aught could reanimate his 
own! His brother's very name is an ague to him. Unhappy are the counsellors 
of a Prince, who wants fortitude and perseverance alike in good and in 
evil!"


Chapter 15

			And yet he thinks, - ha, ha, ha, ha, - he thinks
			I am the tool and servant of his will.
			Well, let it be; through all the maze of trouble
			His plots and base oppression must create,
			I'll shape myself a way to higher things,
			And who will say 'tis wrong?
								-- Basil, a Tragedy.

No spider ever took more pains to repair the shattered meshes of his web, 
than did Waldemar Fitzurse to reunite and combine the scattered members of 
Prince John's cabal. Few of these were attached to him from inclination, 
and none from personal regard. It was therefore necessary, that Fitzurse 
should open to them new prospects of advantage, and remind them of those 
which they at present enjoyed. To the young and wild nobles, he held out 
the prospect of unpunished license and uncontrolled revelry; to the 
ambitious, that of power, and to the covetous, that of increased wealth and 
extended domains. The leaders of the mercenaries received a donation in 
gold; an argument the most persuasive to their minds, and without which all 
others would have proved in vain. Promises were still more liberally 
distributed than money by this active agent; and, in fine, nothing was left 
undone that could determine the wavering, or animate the disheartened. The 
return of King Richard he spoke of as an event altogether beyond the reach 
of probability; yet, when he observed, from the doubtful looks and 
uncertain answers which he received, that this was the apprehension by 
which the minds of his accomplices were most haunted, he boldly treated 
that event, should it really take place, as one which ought not to alter 
their political calculations.
"If Richard returns," said Fitzurse, "he returns to enrich his needy and 
impoverished crusaders at the expense of those who did not follow him to 
the Holy Land. He returns to call to a fearful reckoning, those who, during 
his absence, have done aught that can be construed offence or encroachment 
upon either the laws of the land or the privileges of the crown. He returns 
to avenge upon the Orders of the Temple and the Hospital, the preference 
which they showed to Philip of France during the wars in the Holy Land. He 
returns, in fine, to punish as a rebel every adherent of his brother Prince 
John. Are ye afraid of his power?" continued the artful confident of that 
Prince, "we acknowledge him a strong and valiant knight; but these are not 
the days of King Arthur, when a champion could encounter an army. If 
Richard indeed comes back, it must be alone, - unfollowed - unfriended. The 
bones of his gallant army have whitened the sands of Palestine. The few of 
his followers who have returned have straggled hither like this Wilfred of 
Ivanhoe, beggared and broken men. - And what talk ye of Richard's right of 
birth?" he proceeded, in answer to those who objected scruples on that 
head. "Is Richard's title of primogeniture more decidedly certain than that 
of Duke Robert of Normandy, the Conqueror's eldest son? And yet William the 
Red, and Henry, his second and third brothers, were successively preferred 
to him by the voice of the nation, Robert had every merit which can be 
pleaded for Richard; he was a bold knight, a good leader, generous to his 
friends and to the church, and, to crown the whole, a crusader and a 
conqueror of the Holy Sepulchre; and yet he died a blind and miserable 
prisoner in the Castle of Cardiff, because he opposed himself to the will 
of the people, who chose that he should not rule over them. It is our 
right," he said, " to choose from the blood royal the prince who is best 
qualified to hold the supreme power - that is," said he, correcting 
himself, "him whose election will best promote the interests of the 
nobility. In personal qualifications," he added, "it was possible that 
Prince John might be inferior to his brother Richard; but when it was 
considered that the latter returned with the sword of vengeance in his 
hand, while the former held out rewards, immunities, privileges, wealth, 
and honours, it could not be doubted which was the king whom in wisdom the 
nobility were called on to support."
These, and many more arguments, some adapted to the peculiar circumstances 
of those whom he addressed, had the expected weight with the nobles of 
Prince John's faction. Most of them consented to attend the proposed 
meeting at York, for the purpose of making general arrangements for placing 
the crown upon the head of Prince John.
It was late at night, when, worn out and exhausted with his various 
exertions, however gratified with the result, Fitzurse, returning to the 
Castle of Ashby, met with De Bracy, who had exchanged his banqueting 
garments for a short green kirtle, with hose of the same cloth and colour, 
a leathern cap or head-piece, a short sword, a horn slung over his 
shoulder, a long bow in his hand, and a bundle of arrows stuck in his belt. 
Had Fitzurse met this figure in an outer apartment, he would have passed 
him without notice, as one of the yeomen of the guard; but finding him in 
the inner hall, he looked at him with more attention, and recognised the 
Norman knight in the dress of an English yeoman.
"What mummery is this, De Bracy?" said Fitzurse, somewhat angrily; "is this 
a time for Christmas gambols and quaint maskings, when the fate of our 
master, Prince John, is on the very verge of decision? Why hast thou not 
been, like me, among these heartless cravens, whom the very name of King 
Richard terrifies, as it is said to do the children of the Saracens?'
"I have been attending to mine own business," answered De Bracy calmly, "as 
you, Fitzurse, have been minding yours."
"I minding mine own business!" echoed Waldemar; "I have been engaged in 
that of Prince John, our joint patron."
"As if thou hadst any other reason for that, Waldemar," said De Bracy, 
"than the promotion of thine own individual interest? Come, Fitzurse, we 
know each other - ambition is thy pursuit, pleasure is mine, and they 
become our different ages. Of Prince John thou thinkest as I do; that he is 
too weak to be a determined monarch, too tyrannical to be an easy monarch, 
too insolent and presumptuous to be a popular monarch, and too fickle and 
timid to be long a monarch of any kind. But he is a monarch by whom 
Fitzurse and De Bracy hope to rise and thrive; and therefore you aid him 
with your policy, and I with the lances of my Free Companions."
"A hopeful auxiliary," said Fitzurse impatiently; "playing the fool in the 
very moment of utter necessity. - What on earth dost thou purpose by this 
absurd disguise at a moment so urgent?"
"To get me a wife," answered De Bracy coolly, "after the manner of the 
tribe of Benjamin."
"The tribe of Benjamin?" said Fitzurse; "I comprehend thee not."
"Wert thou not in presence yestereven," said De Bracy, "when we heard the 
Prior Aymer tell us a tale in reply to the romance which was sung by the 
Minstrel? - He told how, long since in Palestine, a deadly feud arose 
between the tribe of Benjamin and the rest of the Israelitish nation; and 
how they cut to pieces well-nigh all the chivalry of that tribe; and how 
they swore by our blessed Lady, that they would not permit those who 
remained to marry in their lineage; and how they became grieved for their 
vow, and sent to consult his holiness the Pope how they might be absolved 
from it; and how, by the advice of the Holy Father, the youth of the tribe 
of Benjamin carried off from a superb tournament all the ladies who were 
there present, and thus won them wives without the consent either of their 
brides or their brides' families."
"I have heard the story," said Fitzurse, "though either the Prior or thou 
has made some singular alterations in date and circumstances."
"I tell thee," said De Bracy, "that I mean to purvey me a wife after the 
fashion of the tribe of Benjamin; which is as much as to say, that in this 
same equipment I will fall upon that herd of Saxon bullocks, who have this 
night left the castle, and carry off from them the lovely Rowena."
"Art thou mad, De Bracy?" said Fitzurse. "Bethink thee that, though the men 
be Saxons, they are rich and powerful, and regarded with the more respect 
by their countrymen, that wealth and honour are but the lot of few of Saxon 
descent."
"And should belong to none," said De Bracy; "the work of the Conquest 
should be completed."
"This is no time for it at least," said Fitzurse "the approaching crisis 
renders the favour of the multitude indispensable, and Prince John cannot 
refuse justice to any one who injures their favourites."
"Let him grant it, if he dare," said De Bracy; "he will soon see the 
difference betwixt the support of such a lusty lot of spears as mine, and 
that of a heartless mob of Saxon churls. Yet I mean no immediate discovery 
of myself. Seem I not in this garb as bold a forester as ever blew horn? 
The blame of the violence shall rest with the outlaws of the Yorkshire 
forests. I have sure spies on the Saxon's motions - To-night they sleep in 
the convent of Saint Wittol, or Withold, or whatever they call that churl 
of a Saxon Saint at Burton-on-Trent. Next day's march brings them within 
our reach, and, falcon-ways, we swoop on them at once. Presently after I 
will appear in mine own shape, play the courteous knight, rescue the 
unfortunate and afflicted fair one from the hands of the rude ravishers, 
conduct her to Front-de-Boeuf's Castle, or to Normandy, if it should be 
necessary, and produce her not again to her kindred until she be the bride 
and dame of Maurice de Bracy."
"A marvellously sage plan," said Fitzurse, "and, as I think, not entirely 
of thine own device. - Come, be frank, De Bracy, who aided thee in the 
invention? and who is to assist in the execution? for, as I think, thine 
own band lies as far of as York."
"Marry, if thou must needs know," said De Bracy, "it was the Templar Brian 
de Bois-Guilbert that shaped out the enterprise, which the adventure of the 
men of Benjamin suggested to me. He is to aid me in the onslaught, and he 
and his followers will personate the outlaws, from whom any valorous arm 
is, after changing my garb, to rescue the lady."
"By my halidome," said Fitzurse, "the plan was worthy of your united 
wisdom! and thy prudence, De Bracy, is most especially manifested in the 
project of leaving the lady in the hands of thy worthy confederate. Thou 
mayst, I think, succeed in taking her from her Saxon friends, but how thou 
wilt rescue her afterwards from the clutches of Bois-Guilbert seems 
considerably more doubtful - He is a falcon well accustomed to pounce on a 
partridge, and to hold his prey fast."
"He is a Templar," said De Bracy, "and cannot therefore rival me in my plan 
of wedding this heiress; - and to attempt aught dishonourable against the 
intended bride of De Bracy - By Heaven! were he a whole chapter of his 
Order in his single person, he dared not do me such an injury!"
"Then since nought that I can say," said Fitzurse, "will put this folly 
from thy imagination, (for well I know the obstinacy of thy disposition,) 
at least waste as little time as possible - let not thy folly be lasting as 
well as untimely."
"I tell thee," answered De Bracy, "that it will be the work of a few hours, 
and I shall be at York - at the head of my daring and valorous fellows, as 
ready to support any bold design as thy policy can be to form one. - But I 
hear my comrades assembling, and the steeds stamping and neighing in the 
outer court. - Farewell. - I go, like a true knight, to win the smiles of 
beauty."
"Like a true knight?" repeated Fitzurse, looking after him; "like a fool, I 
should say, or like a child, who will leave the most serious and needful 
occupation, to chase the down of the thistle that drives past him. - But it 
is with such tools that I must work; - and for whose advantage? - For that 
of a Prince as unwise as he is profligate, and as likely to be an 
ungrateful master as he has already proved a rebellious son and an 
unnatural brother. - But he - he, too, is but one of the tools with which I 
labour; and, proud as he is, should he presume to separate his interest 
from mine, this is a secret which he shall soon learn."
The meditations of the statesman were here interrupted by the voice of the 
Prince from an interior apartment, calling out, "Noble Waldemar Fitzurse!" 
and, with bonnet doffed, the future Chancellor (for to such high preferment 
did the wily Norman aspire) hastened to receive the orders of the future 
sovereign.


Chapter 16

		Far in a wild, unknown to public view,
		From youth to age a reverend hermit grew;
		The moss his bed, the cave his humble cell,
		His food the fruits, his drink the crystal well
		Remote from man, with God he pass'd his days,
		Prayer all his business - all his pleasure praise.
								-- Parnell.

The reader cannot have forgotten that the event of the tournament was 
decided by the exertions of an unknown knight, whom, on account of the 
passive and indifferent conduct which he had manifested on the former part 
of the day, the spectators had entitled, Le Noir Faineant. This knight had 
left the field abruptly when the victory was achieved; and when he was 
called upon to receive the reward of his valour, he was nowhere to be 
found. In the meantime, while summoned by heralds and by trumpets, the 
knight was holding his course northward, avoiding all frequented paths, and 
taking the shortest road through the woodlands. He paused for the night at 
a small hostelry lying out of the ordinary route, where, however, he 
obtained from a wandering minstrel news of the event of the tourney.
On the next morning the knight departed early, with the intention of making 
a long journey; the condition of his horse, which he had carefully spared 
during the preceding morning, being such as enabled him to travel far 
without the necessity of much repose. Yet his purpose was baffled by the 
devious paths through which he rode, so that when evening closed upon him, 
he only found himself on the frontiers of the West Riding of Yorkshire. By 
this time both horse and man required refreshment, and it became necessary, 
moreover, to look out for some place in which they might spend the night, 
which was now fast approaching.
The place where the traveller found himself seemed unpropitious for 
obtaining either shelter or refreshment, and he was likely to be reduced to 
the usual expedient of knights-errant, who, on such occasions, turned their 
horses to graze, and laid themselves down to meditate on their lady-
mistress, with an oak-tree for a canopy. But the Black Knight either had no 
mistress to meditate upon, or, being as indifferent in love as he seemed to 
be in war, was not sufficiently occupied by passionate reflections upon her 
beauty and cruelty, to be able to parry the effects of fatigue and hunger, 
and suffer love to act as a substitute for the solid comforts of a bed and 
supper. He felt dissatisfied, therefore, when, looking around, he found 
himself deeply involved in woods, through which indeed there were many open 
glades, and some paths, but such as seemed only formed by the numerous 
herds of cattle which grazed in the forest, or by the animals of chase, and 
the hunters who made prey of them.
The sun, by which the knight had chiefly directed his course, had now sunk 
behind the Derbyshire hills on his left, and every effort which he might 
make to pursue his journey was as likely to lead him out of his road as to 
advance him on his route. After having in vain endeavoured to select the 
most beaten path, in hopes it might lead to the cottage of some herdsman, 
or the silvan lodge of a forester, and having repeatedly found himself 
totally unable to determine on a choice, the knight resolved to trust to 
the sagacity of his horse; experience having, on former occasions, made him 
acquainted with the wonderful talent possessed by these animals for 
extricating themselves and their riders on such emergencies.
The good steed, grievously fatigued with so long a day's journey under a 
rider cased in mail, had no sooner found, by the slackened reins, that he 
was abandoned to his own guidance, than he seemed to assume new strength 
and spirit; and whereas, formerly he had scarce replied to the spur, 
otherwise than by a groan, he now, as if proud of the confidence reposed in 
him, pricked up his ears, and assumed, of his own accord, a more lively 
motion. The path which the animal adopted rather turned off from the course 
pursued by the knight during the day; but as the horse seemed confident in 
his choice, the rider abandoned himself to his discretion.
He was justified by the event; for the footpath soon after appeared a 
little wider and more worn, and the tinkle of a small bell gave the knight 
to understand that he was in the vicinity of some chapel or hermitage.
Accordingly, he soon reached an open plat of turf, on the opposite side of 
which, a rock, rising abruptly from a gently sloping plain, offered its 
grey and weather-beaten front to the traveller. Ivy mantled its sides in 
some places, and in others oaks and holly bushes, whose roots found 
nourishment in the cliffs of the crag, waved over the precipices below, 
like the plumage of the warrior over his steel helmet, giving grace to that 
whose chief expression was terror. At the bottom of the rock, and leaning, 
as it were, against it, was constructed a rude hut, built chiefly of the 
trunks of trees felled in the neighbouring forest, and secured against the 
weather by having its crevices stuffed with moss mingled with clay. The 
stem of a young fir-tree lopped of its branches, with a piece of wood tied 
across near the top, was planted upright by the door, as a rude emblem of 
the holy cross. At a little distance on the right hand, a fountain of the 
purest water trickled out of the rock, and was received in a hollow stone, 
which labour had formed into a rustic basin. Escaping from thence, the 
stream murmured down the descent by a channel which its course had long 
worn, and so wandered through the little plain to lose itself in the 
neighbouring wood.
Beside this fountain were the ruins of a very small chapel, of which the 
roof had partly fallen in. The building, when entire, had never been above 
sixteen feet long by twelve feet in breadth, and the roof, low in 
proportion, rested upon four concentric arches which sprung from the four 
corners of the building, each supported upon a short and heavy pillar. The 
ribs of two of these arches remained, though the roof had fallen down 
betwixt them; over the others it remained entire. The entrance to this 
ancient place of devotion was under a very low round arch, ornamented by 
several courses of that zigzag moulding, resembling shark's teeth, which 
appears so often in the more ancient Saxon architecture. A belfry rose 
above the porch on four small pillars, within which hung the green and 
weather-beaten bell, the feeble sounds of which had been some time before 
heard by the Black Knight.
The whole peaceful and quiet scene lay glimmering in twilight before the 
eyes of the traveller, giving him good assurance of lodging for the night; 
since it was a special duty of those hermits who dwelt in the woods, to 
exercise hospitality towards benighted or bewildered passengers.
Accordingly, the knight took no time to consider minutely the particulars 
which we have detailed, but thanking Saint Julian (the patron of 
travellers) who had sent him good harbourage, he leaped from his horse and 
assailed the door of the hermitage with the butt of his lance, in order to 
arouse attention and gain admittance.
It was some time before he obtained any answer, and the reply, when made, 
was unpropitious.
"Pass on, whosoever thou art," was the answer given by a deep hoarse voice 
from within the hut, "and disturb not the servant of God and St Dunstan in 
his evening devotions."
"Worthy father," answered the knight, "here is a poor wanderer bewildered 
in these woods, who gives thee the opportunity of exercising thy charity 
and hospitality."
"Good brother," replied the inhabitant of the hermitage, "it has pleased 
Our Lady and St Dunstan to destine me for the object of those virtues, 
instead of the exercise thereof. I have no provisions here which even a dog 
would share with me, and a horse of any tenderness of nurture would despise 
my couch - pass therefore on thy way, and God speed thee."
"But how," replied the knight, "is it possible for me to find my way 
through such a wood as this, when darkness is coming on? I pray you, 
reverend father as you are a Christian, to undo your door, and at least 
point out to me my road."
"And I pray you, good Christian brother," replied the anchorite, "to 
disturb me no more. You have already interrupted one pater, two aves, and a 
credo, which I, miserable sinner that I am, should, according to my vow, 
have said before moonrise."
"The road - the road!" vociferated the knight, "give me directions for the 
road, if I am to expect no more from thee."
"The road," replied the hermit, "is easy to hit. The path from the wood 
leads to a morass, and from thence to a ford, which, as the rains have 
abated, may now be passable. When thou hast crossed the ford, thou wilt 
take care of thy footing up the left bank, as it is somewhat precipitous; 
and the path, which hangs over the river, has lately, as I learn, (for I 
seldom leave the duties of my chapel,) given way in sundry places. Thou 
wilt then keep straight forward"
"A broken path - a precipice - a ford, and a morass!" said the knight 
interrupting him, - "Sir Hermit, if you were the holiest that ever wore 
beard or told bead, you shall scarce prevail on me to hold this road to-
night. I tell thee, that thou, who livest by the charity of the country - 
ill deserved, as I doubt it is - hast no right to refuse shelter to the 
wayfarer when in distress. Either open the door quickly, or, by the rood, I 
will beat it down and make entry for myself."
"Friend wayfarer," replied the hermit, "be not importunate; if thou puttest 
me to use the carnal weapon in mine own defence, it will be e'en the worse 
for you."
At this moment a distant noise of barking and growling, which the traveller 
had for some time heard, became extremely loud and furious, and made the 
knight suppose that the hermit, alarmed by his threat of making forcible 
entry, had called the dogs who made this clamour to aid him in his defence, 
out of some inner recess in which they had been kennelled. Incensed at this 
preparation on the hermit's part for making good his inhospitable purpose, 
the knight struck the door so furiously with his foot, that posts as well 
as staples shook with violence.
The anchorite, not caring again to expose his door to a similar shock, now 
called out aloud, "Patience, patience - spare thy strength, good traveller, 
and I will presently undo the door, though, it may be, my doing so will be 
little to thy pleasure."
The door accordingly was opened; and the hermit, a large, strong-built man, 
in his sackcloth gown and hood, girt with a rope of rushes, stood before 
the knight. He had in one hand a lighted torch, or link, and in the other a 
baton of crab-tree, so thick and heavy, that it might well be termed a 
club. Two large shaggy dogs, half greyhound half mastiff, stood ready to 
rush upon the traveller as soon as the door should be opened. But when the 
torch glanced upon the lofty crest and golden spurs of the knight, who 
stood without, the hermit, altering probably his original intentions, 
repressed the rage of his auxiliaries, and, changing his tone to a sort of 
churlish courtesy, invited the knight to enter his hut, making excuse for 
his unwillingness to open his lodge after sunset, by alleging the multitude 
of robbers and outlaws who were abroad, and who gave no honour to Our Lady 
or St Dunstan, nor to those holy men who spent life in their service.
"The poverty of your cell, good father," said the knight, looking around 
him, and seeing nothing but a bed of leaves, a crucifix rudely carved in 
oak, a missal, with a rough-hewn table and two stools, and one or two 
clumsy articles of furniture - "the poverty of your cell should seem a 
sufficient defence against any risk of thieves, not to mention the aid of 
two trusty dogs, large and strong enough, I think, to pull down a stag, and 
of course, to match with most men."
"The good keeper of the forest," said the hermit, "hath allowed me the use 
of these animals, to protect my solitude until the times shall mend."
Having said this, he fixed his torch in a twisted branch of iron which 
served for a candlestick; and, placing the oaken trivet before the embers 
of the fire, which he refreshed with some dry wood, he placed a stool upon 
one side of the table, and beckoned to the knight to do the same upon the 
other.
They sat down, and gazed with great gravity at each other, each thinking in 
his heart that he had seldom seen a stronger or more athletic figure than 
was placed opposite to him.
"Reverend hermit," said the knight, after looking long and fixedly at his 
host, "were it not to interrupt your devout meditations, I would pray to 
know three things of your holiness; first, where I am to put my horse? - 
secondly, what I can have for supper? - thirdly, where I am to take up my 
couch for the night?"
"I will reply to you," said the hermit, "with my finger, it being against 
my rule to speak by words where signs can answer the purpose." So saying, 
he pointed successively to two corners of the hut. "Your stable," said he, 
"is there - your bed there; and," reaching down a platter with two handfuls 
of parched pease upon it from the neighbouring shelf, and placing it upon 
the table, he added, "your supper is here."
The knight shrugged his shoulders, and leaving the hut, brought in his 
horse, (which in the interim he had fastened to a tree,) unsaddled him with 
much attention, and spread upon the steed's weary back his own mantle.
The hermit was apparently somewhat moved to compassion by the anxiety as 
well as address which the stranger displayed in tending his horse; for, 
muttering something about provender left for the keeper's palfrey, he 
dragged out of a recess a bundle of forage, which he spread before the 
knight's charger, and immediately afterwards shook down a quantity of dried 
fern in the corner which he had assigned for the rider's couch. The knight 
returned him thanks for his courtesy; and, this duty done, both resumed 
their seats by the table, whereon stood the trencher of pease placed 
between them. The hermit, after a long grace, which had once been Latin, 
but of which original language few traces remained, excepting here and 
there the long rolling termination of some word or phrase, set example to 
his guest, by modestly putting into a very large mouth, furnished with 
teeth which might have ranked with those of a boar both in sharpness and 
whiteness, some three or four dried pease, a miserable grist as it seemed 
for so large and able a mill.
The knight, in order to follow so laudable an example, laid aside his 
helmet, his corslet, and the greater part of his armour, and showed to the 
hermit a head thick-curled with yellow hair, high features, blue eyes, 
remarkably bright and sparkling, a mouth well formed, having an upper lip 
clothed with mustachios darker than his hair, and bearing altogether the 
look of a bold, daring, and enterprising man, with which his strong form 
well corresponded.
The hermit, as if wishing to answer to the confidence of his guest, threw 
back his cowl, and showed a round bullet head belonging to a man in the 
prime of life. His close-shaven crown, surrounded by a circle of stiff 
curled black hair, had something the appearance of a parish pinfold begirt 
by its high hedge. The features expressed nothing of monastic austerity, or 
of ascetic privations; on the contrary, it was a bold bluff countenance, 
with broad black eyebrows, a well-turned forehead, and cheeks as round and 
vermilion as those of a trumpeter, from which descended a long and curly 
black beard. Such. a visage, joined to the brawny form of the holy man, 
spoke rather of sirloins and haunches, than of pease and pulse. This 
incongruity did not escape the guest. After he had with great difficulty 
accomplished the mastication of a mouthful of the dried pease, he found it 
absolutely necessary to request his pious entertainer to furnish him with 
some liquor; who replied to his request by placing before him a large can 
of the purest water from the fountain.
"It is from the well of St Dunstan," said he, "in which, betwixt sun and 
sun, he baptised five hundred heathen Danes and Britons - blessed be his 
name!" And applying his black beard to the pitcher, he took a draught much 
more moderate in quantity than his encomium seemed to warrant.
"It seems to me, reverend father," said the knight, "that the small morsels 
which you eat, together with this holy, but somewhat thin beverage, have 
thriven with you marvellously. You appear a man more fit to win the ram at 
a wrestling match, or the ring at a bout at quarter-staff, or the bucklers 
at a sword-play, than to linger out your time in this desolate wilderness, 
saying masses, and living upon parched pease and cold water."
"Sir Knight," answered the hermit, "your thoughts, like those of the 
ignorant laity, are according to the flesh. It has pleased Our Lady and my 
patron saint to bless the pittance to which I restrain myself, even as the 
pulse and water was blessed to the children Shadrach, Meshech, and 
Abednego, who drank the same rather than defile themselves with the wine 
and meats which were appointed them by the King of the Saracens."
"Holy father," said the knight, "upon whose countenance it hath pleased 
Heaven to work such a miracle, permit a sinful layman to crave thy name?"
"Thou mayst call me," answered the hermit, "the Clerk of Copmanhurst, for 
so I am termed in these parts - They add, it is true, the epithet holy, but 
I stand not upon that, as being unworthy of such addition. - And now, 
valiant knight, may I pray ye for the name of my honourable guest?"
"Truly," said the knight, "Holy Clerk of Copmanhurst, men call me in these 
parts the Black Knight, - many, sir, add to it the epithet of Sluggard, 
whereby I am no way ambitious to be distinguished."
The hermit could scarcely forbear from smiling at his guest's reply.
"I see," said he, "Sir Sluggish Knight, that thou art a man of prudence and 
of counsel; and moreover, I see that my poor monastic fare likes thee not, 
accustomed, perhaps, as thou hast been, to the license of courts and of 
camps, and the luxuries of cities; and now I bethink me, Sir Sluggard, that 
when the charitable keeper of this forest-walk left those dogs for my 
protection, and also those bundles of forage, he left me also some food, 
which, being unfit for my use, the very recollection of it had escaped me 
amid my more weighty meditations."
"I dare be sworn he did so," said the knight; "I was convinced that there 
was better food in the cell, Holy Clerk, since you first doffed your cowl. 
- Your keeper is ever a jovial fellow; and none who beheld thy grinders 
contending with these pease, and thy throat flooded with this ungenial 
element, could see thee doomed to such horse-provender and horse-beverage," 
(pointing to the provisions upon the table,) " and refrain from mending thy 
cheer. Let us see the keeper's bounty, therefore, without delay."
The hermit cast a wistful look upon the knight, in which there was a sort 
of comic expression of hesitation, as if uncertain how far be should act 
prudently in trusting his guest. There was, however, as much of bold 
frankness in the knight's countenance as was possible to be expressed by 
features. His smile, too, had something in it irresistibly comic, and gave 
an assurance of faith and loyalty, with which his host could not refrain 
from sympathising.
After exchanging a mute glance or two, the hermit went to the further side 
of the hut, and opened a hutch, which was concealed with great care and 
some ingenuity. Out of the recesses of a dark closet, into which this 
aperture gave admittance, he brought a large pasty, baked in a pewter 
platter of unusual dimensions. This mighty dish he placed before his guest, 
who, using his poniard to cut it open, lost no time in making himself 
acquainted with its contents.
"How long is it since the good keeper has been here?" said the knight to 
his host, after having swallowed several hasty morsels of this 
reinforcement to the hermit's good cheer.
"About two months," answered the father hastily.
"By the true Lord," answered the knight, "every thing in your hermitage is 
miraculous, Holy Clerk! for I would have been sworn that the fat buck which 
furnished this venison had been running on foot within the week."
The hermit was somewhat discountenanced by this observation; and, moreover, 
he made but a poor figure while gazing on the diminution of the pasty, on 
which his guest was making desperate inroads; a warfare in which his 
previous profession of abstinence left him no pretext for joining.
"I have been in Palestine, Sir Clerk," said the knight, stopping short of a 
sudden, "and I bethink me it is a custom there that every host who 
entertains a guest shall assure him of the wholesomeness of his food, by 
partaking of it along with him. Far be it from me to suspect so holy a man 
of aught inhospitable; nevertheless I will be highly bound to you would you 
comply with this Eastern custom."
"To ease your unnecessary scruples, Sir Knight, I will for once depart from 
my rule," replied the hermit. And as there were no forks in those days, his 
clutches were instantly in the bowels of the pasty.
The ice of ceremony being once broken, it seemed matter of rivalry between 
the guest and the entertainer which should display the best appetite; and 
although the former had probably fasted lonest, yet the hermit fairly 
surpassed him.
"Holy Clerk," said the knight, when his hunger was appeased, "I would gage 
my good horse yonder against a zecchin, that that same honest keeper to 
whom we are obliged for the venison has left thee a stoup of wine, or a 
reinlet of canary, or some such trifle, by way of ally to this noble pasty. 
This would be a circumstance, doubtless, totally unworthy to dwell in the 
memory of so rigid an anchorite; yet, I think, were you to search yonder 
crypt once more, you would find that I am right in my conjecture."
The hermit only replied by a grin; and returning to the hutch, he produced 
a leathern bottle, which might contain about four quarts. He also brought 
forth two large drinking cups, made out of the horn of the urus, and hooped 
with silver. Having made this goodly provision for washing down the supper, 
he seemed to think no farther ceremonious scruple necessary on his part; 
but filling both cups, and saying, in the Saxon fashion, "Waes hael, Sir 
Sluggish Knight!" he emptied his own at a draught.
"Drinc hael, Holy Clerk of Copmanhurst!" answered the warrior, and did his 
host reason in a similar brimmer.
"Holy Clerk," said the stranger, after the first cup was thus swallowed, "I 
cannot but marvel that a man possessed of such thews and sinews as thine, 
and who therewithal shows the talent of so goodly a trencher-man, should 
think of abiding by himself in this wilderness. In my judgement, you are 
fitter to keep a castle or a fort, eating of the fat and drinking of the 
strong, than to live here upon pulse and water, or even upon the charity of 
the keeper. At least, were I as thou, I should find myself both disport and 
plenty out of the king's deer. There is many a goodly herd in these 
forests, and a buck will never be missed that goes to the use of Saint 
Dunstan's chaplain."
"Sir Sluggish Knight," replied the Clerk, "these are dangerous words, and I 
pray you to forbear them. I am true hermit to the king and law, and were I 
to spoil my liege's game, I should be sure of the prison, and, an my gown 
saved me not, were in some peril of hanging."
"Nevertheless, were I as thou," said the knight, "I would take my walk by 
moonlight, when foresters and keepers were warm in bed, and ever and anon, 
- as I pattered my prayers, - I would let fly a shaft among the herds of 
dun deer that feed in the glades - Resolve me, Holy Clerk, hast thou never 
practised such a pastime?"
"Friend Sluggard," answered the hermit, "thou hast seen all that can 
concern thee of my housekeeping, and something more than he deserves who 
takes up his quarters by violence. Credit me, it is better to enjoy the 
good which God sends thee, than to be impertinently curious how it comes. 
Fill thy cup, and welcome; and do not, I pray thee, by further impertinent 
enquiries, put me to show that thou couldst hardly have made good thy 
lodging had I been earnest to oppose thee."
"By my faith," said the knight, "thou makest me more curious than ever! 
Thou art the most mysterious hermit I ever met; and I will know more of 
thee ere we part. As for thy threats, know, holy man, thou speakest to one 
whose trade it is to find out danger wherever it is to be met with."
'Sir Sluggish Knight, I drink to thee," said the hermit; "respecting thy 
valour much, but deeming wondrous slightly of thy discretion. If thou wilt 
take equal arms with me, I will give thee, in all friendship and brotherly 
love, such sufficing penance and complete absolution, that thou shalt not 
for the next twelve months sin the sin of excess of curiosity."
The knight pledged him, and desired him to name his weapons.
"There is none," replied the hermit, "from the scissors of Delilah, and the 
tenpenny nail of Jael, to the scimitar of Goliath, at which I am not a 
match for thee - But, if I am to make the election, what sayst thou, good 
friend, to these trinkets?"
Thus speaking, he opened another hutch, and took out from it a couple of 
broadswords and bucklers, such as were used by the yeomanry of the period. 
The knight, who watched his motions, observed that this second place of 
concealment was furnished with two or three good long-bows, a cross-bow, a 
bundle of bolts for the latter, and half-a-dozen sheaves of arrows for the 
former. A harp, and other matters of a very uncanonical appearance, were 
also visible when this dark recess was opened.
"I promise thee, brother Clerk," said he, "I will ask thee no more 
offensive questions. The contents of that cupboard are an answer to all my 
enquiries; and I see a weapon there" (here be stooped and took out the 
harp) "on which I would more gladly prove my skill with thee, than at the 
sword and buckler."
"I hope, Sir Knight," said the hermit, "thou hast given no good reason for 
thy surname of the Sluggard. I do promise thee I suspect thee grievously. 
Nevertheless, thou art my guest, and I will not put thy manhood to the 
proof without thine own free will. Sit thee down, then, and fill thy cup; 
let us drink, sing, and be merry. If thou knowest ever a good lay, thou 
shalt be welcome to a nook of pasty at Copmanhurst so long as I serve the 
chapel of St Dunstan, which, please God, shall be till I change my grey 
covering for one of green turf. But come, fill a flagon, for it will crave 
some time to tune the harp; and nought pitches the voice and sharpens the 
car like a cup of wine. For my part, I love to feel the grape at my very 
finger-ends before they make the harp-strings tinkle."



Chapter 17

			At eve, within yon studious nook,
			I ope my brass-embossed book,
			Portray'd with many a holy deed
			Of martyrs crown'd with heavenly meed;
			Then, as my taper waxes dim,
			Chant, ere I sleep, my measured hymn.

........

			Who but would cast his pomp away,
			To take my staff and amice grey,
			And to the world's tumultuous stage,
			Prefer the peaceful Hermitage?
								-- Warton


Notwithstanding the prescription of the genial hermit, with which his guest 
willingly complied, he found it no easy matter to bring the harp to 
harmony.
"Methinks, holy father," said he, "the instrument wants one string, and the 
rest have been somewhat misused."
"Ay, mark'st thou that?" replied the hermit; "that shows thee a master of 
the craft. Wine and wassail," he added, gravely casting up his eyes - "all 
the fault of wine and wassail! - I told Allan a-Dale, the northern 
minstrel, that he would damage the harp if he touched it after the seventh 
cup, but he would not be controlled - Friend, I drink to thy successful 
performance."
So saying, he took off his cup with much gravity, at the same time shaking 
his head at the intemperance of the Scottish harper.
The knight in the meantime, had brought the strings into some order, and 
after a short prelude, asked his host whether he would choose a sirvente in 
the language of oc, or a lai in the language of oui, or a virelai, or a 
ballad in the vulgar English.
"A ballad, a ballad," said the hermit, "against all the ocs and ouis of 
France. Downright English am I, Sir Knight, and downright English was my 
patron St Dunstan, and scorned oc and oui, as he would have scorned the 
parings of the devil's hoof - downright English alone shall be sung in this 
cell."
"I will assay, then," said the knight, "a ballad composed by a Saxon glee-
man, whom I knew in Holy Land."
It speedily appeared, that if the knight was not a complete master of the 
minstrel art, his taste for it had at least been cultivated under the best 
instructors. Art had taught him to soften the faults of a voice which had 
little compass, and was naturally rough rather than mellow, and, in short, 
had done all that culture can do in supplying natural deficiencies. His 
performance, therefore, might have been termed very respectable by abler 
judges than the hermit, especially as the knight threw into the notes now a 
degree of spirit, and now of plaintive enthusiasm, which gave force and 
energy to the verses which he sung.

THE CRUSADER'S RETURN.

1.
		High deeds achieved of knightly fame,
		From Palestine the champion came;
		The cross upon his shoulders borne,
		Battle and blast had dimm'd and torn.
		Each dint upon his batter'd shield
		Was token of a foughten field;
		And thus, beneath his lady's bower,
		He sung as fell the twilight hour: -

2.
		"Joy to the fair! - thy knight behold,
		Return'd from yonder land of gold;
		No wealth he brings, nor wealth can need,
		Save his good arms and battle-steed
		His spurs, to dash against a foe,
		His lance and sword to lay him low;
		Such all the trophies of his toil,
		Such - and the hope of Tekla's smile!

3.
		"Joy to the fair! whose constant knight
		Her favour fired to feats of might;
		Unnoted shall she not remain,
		Where meet the bright and noble train;
		Minstrel shall sing and herald tell -
		'Mark yonder maid of beauty well,
		'Tis she for whose bright eyes were won
		The listed field at Askalon!

4.
		" 'Note well her smile! - it edged the blade
		Which fifty wives to widows made,
		When, vain his strength and Mahound's spell,
		Iconium's turban'd Soldan fell.
		Seest thou her locks, whose sunny glow
		Half shows, half shades, her neck of snow?
		Twines not of them one golden thread,
		But for its sake a Paynim bled.'

5.
		"Joy to the fair! - my name unknown,
		Each deed, and all its praise thine own
		Then, oh! unbar this churlish gate,
		The night dew falls, the hour is late.
		Inured to Syria's glowing breath,
		I feel the north breeze chill as death;
		Let grateful love quell maiden shame,
		And grant him bliss who brings thee fame."

During this performance, the hermit demeaned himself much like a first-rate 
critic of the present day at a new opera. He reclined back upon his seat, 
with his eyes half shut; now, folding his hands and twisting his thumbs, he 
seemed absorbed in attention, and anon, balancing his expanded palms, he 
gently flourished them in time to the music. At one or two favourite 
cadences, he threw in a little assistance of his own, where the knight's 
voice seemed unable to carry the air so high as his worshipful taste 
approved. When the song was ended, the anchorite emphatically declared it a 
good one, and well sung.
"And yet," said he, "I think my Saxon countrymen had herded long enough 
with the Normans, to fall into the tone of their melancholy ditties. What 
took the honest knight from home? or what could he expect but to find his 
mistress agreeably engaged with a rival on his return, and his serenade, as 
they call it, as little regarded as the caterwauling of a cat in the 
gutter? Nevertheless, Sir Knight, I drink this cup to thee, to the success 
of all true lovers - I fear you are none," he added, on observing that the 
knight (whose brain began to be heated with these repeated draughts) 
qualified his flagon from the water pitcher.
"Why," said the knight, "did you not tell me that this water was from the 
well of your blessed patron, St Dunstan?"
"Ay, truly," said the hermit, "and many a hundred of pagans did he baptise 
there, but I never heard that he drank any of it. Every thing should be put 
to its proper use in this world. St Dunstan knew, as well as any one, the 
prerogatives of a jovial friar."
And so saying, he reached the harp, and entertained his guest with the 
following characteristic song, to a sort of derrydown chorus, appropriate 
to an old English ditty.

THE BAREFOOTED FRIAR.

1.
	I'll give thee, good fellow, a twelvemonth or twain,
	To search Europe through, from Byzantium to Spain;
	But ne'er shall you find, should you search till you tire,
	So happy a man as the Barefooted Friar.

2.
	Your knight for his lady pricks forth in career,
	And is brought home at even-song prick'd through with a spear;
	I confess him in haste - for his lady desires
	No comfort on earth save the Barefooted Friar's.

3.
	Your monarch? - Pshaw! many a prince has been known
	To barter his robes for our cowl and our gown,
	But which of us e'er felt the idle desire
	To exchange for a crown the grey hood of a Friar!

4.
	The Friar has walk'd out, and where'er he has gone,
	The land and its fatness is mark'd for his own;
	He can roam where he lists, he can stop when he tires,
	For every man's house is the Barefooted Friar's.

5.
	He's expected at noon, and no wight till he comes
	May profane the great chair, or the porridge of plums
	For the best of the cheer, and the seat by the fire,
	Is the undenied right of the Barefooted Friar.

6.
	He's expected at night, and the pasty's made hot,
	They broach the brown ale, and they fill the black pot,
	And the goodwife would wish the goodman in the mire,
	Ere he lack'd a soft pillow, the Barefooted Friar.

7.
	Long flourish the sandal, the cord, and the cope,
	The dread of the devil and trust of the Pope;
	For to gather life's roses, unscathed by the briar,
	Is granted alone to the Barefooted Friar.

"By my troth," said the knight, "thou hast sung well and lustily, and in 
high praise of thine order. And, talking of the devil, Holy Clerk, are you 
not afraid that he may pay you a visit daring some of your uncanonical 
pastimes?"
"I uncanonical!" answered the hermit; "I scorn the charge - I scorn it with 
my heels! - I serve the duty of my chapel duly and truly - Two masses 
daily, morning and evening, primes, noons, and vespers, aves, credos, 
paters - "
"Excepting moonlight nights, when the venison is in season," said his 
guest.
"Exceptis excipiendis," replied the hermit, "as our old abbot taught me to 
say, when impertinent laymen should ask me if I kept every punctilio of 
mine order."
"True, holy father," said the knight; "but the devil is apt to keep an eye 
on such exceptions; he goes about, thou knowest, like a roaring lion."
"Let him roar here if he dares," said the friar; "a touch of my cord will 
make him roar as loud as the tongs of St Dunstan himself did. I never 
feared man, and I as little fear the devil and his imps. Saint Dunstan, 
Saint Dubric, Saint Winibald, Saint Winifred, Saint Swibert, Saint Willick, 
not forgetting Saint Thomas a Kent, and my own poor merits to speed, I defy 
every devil of them, come cut and long tail. - But to let you into a 
secret, I never speak upon such subjects, my friend, until after morning 
vespers."
He changed the conversation; fast and furious grew the mirth of the 
parties, and many a song was exchanged betwixt them, when their revels were 
interrupted by a loud knocking at the door of the hermitage.
The occasion of this interruption we can only explain by resuming the 
adventures of another set of our characters; for, like old Ariosto, we do 
not pique ourselves upon continuing uniformly to keep company with any one 
personage of our drama.


Chapter 18

		Away! our journey lies through dell and dingle,
		Where the blithe fawn trips by its timid mother,
		Where the broad oak, with intercepting boughs,
		Chequers the sunbeam in the green-sward alley -
		Up and away! - for lovely paths are these
		To tread, when the glad Sun is on his throne
		Less pleasant, and less safe, when Cynthia's lamp
		With doubtful glimmer lights the dreary forest.
								-- Ettrick Forest.

When Cedric the Saxon saw his son drop down senseless in the lists at 
Ashby, his first impulse was to order him into the custody and care of his 
own attendants, but the words choked in his throat. He could not bring 
himself to acknowledge, in presence of such an assembly, the son whom he 
had renounced and disinherited. He ordered, however, Oswald to keep an eye 
upon him; and directed that officer, with two of his serfs, to convey 
Ivanhoe to Ashby as soon as the crowd had dispersed. Oswald, however, was 
anticipated in this good office. The crowd dispersed, indeed, but the 
knight was nowhere to be seen.
It was in vain that Cedric's cupbearer looked around for his young master - 
he saw the bloody spot on which he had lately sunk down, but himself he saw 
no longer; it seemed as if the fairies had conveyed him from the spot. 
Perhaps Oswald (for the Saxons were very superstitious) might have adopted 
some such hypothesis, to account for Ivanhoe's disappearance, had he not 
suddenly cast his eye upon a person attired like a squire, in whom he 
recognised the features of his fellow-servant Gurth. Anxious concerning his 
master's fate, and in despair at his sudden disappearance, the translated 
swineherd was searching for him everywhere, and had neglected, in doing so, 
the concealment on which his own safety depended. Oswald deemed it his duty 
to secure Gurth, as a fugitive of whose fate his master was to judge.
Renewing his enquiries concerning the fate of Ivanhoe, the only information 
which the cupbearer could collect from the bystanders was, that the knight 
had been raised with care by certain well-attired grooms, and placed in a 
litter belonging to a lady among the spectators, which had immediately 
transported him out of the press. Oswald, on receiving this intelligence, 
resolved to return to his master for farther instructions, carrying along 
with him Gurth, whom he considered in some sort as a deserter from the 
service of Cedric.
The Saxon had been under very intense and agonising apprehensions 
concerning his son; for Nature had asserted her rights, in spite of the 
patriotic stoicism which laboured to disown her. But no sooner was he 
informed that Ivanhoe was in careful, and probably in friendly hands, than 
the paternal anxiety which had been excited by the dubiety of his fate, 
gave way anew to the feeling of injured pride and resentment, at what he 
termed Wilfred's filial disobedience. "Let him wander his way," said he - 
"let those leech his wounds for whose sake he encountered them. He is 
fitter to do the juggling tricks of the Norman chivalry than to maintain 
the fame and honour of his English ancestry with the glaive and brown-bill, 
the good old weapons of his country."
"If to maintain the honour of ancestry," said Rowena, who was present, "it 
is sufficient to be wise in council and brave in execution - to be boldest 
among the bold, and gentlest among the gentle, I know no voice, save his 
father's - "
"Be silent, Lady Rowena! - on this subject only I hear you not. Prepare 
yourself for the Prince's festival: we have been summoned thither with 
unwonted circumstance of honour and of courtesy, such as the haughty 
Normans have rarely used to our race since the fatal day of Hastings. 
Thither will I go, were it only to show these proud Normans how little the 
fate of a son, who could defeat their bravest, can affect a Saxon."
"Thither," said Rowena, "do I not go; and I pray you to beware, lest what 
you mean for courage and constancy, shall be accounted hardness of heart."
"Remain at home, then, ungrateful lady," answered Cedric; "thine is the 
hard heart, which can sacrifice the weal of an oppressed people to an idle 
and unauthorised attachment. I seek the noble Athelstane, and with him 
attend the banquet of John of Anjou."
He went accordingly to the banquet, of which we have already mentioned the 
principal events. Immediately upon retiring from the castle, the Saxon 
thanes, with their attendants, took horse; and it was during the bustle 
which attended their doing so, that Cedric, for the first time, cast his 
eyes upon the deserter Gurth. The noble Saxon had returned from the 
banquet, as we have seen, in no very placid humour, and wanted but a 
pretext for wreaking his anger upon some one. "The gyves!" he said, "the 
gyves! - Oswald - Hundibert! - Dogs and villains! - why leave ye the knave 
unfettered?"
Without daring to remonstrate, the companions of Gurth bound him with a 
halter, as the readiest cord which occurred. He submitted to the operation 
without remonstrance, except that, darting a reproachful look at his 
master, he said, "This comes of loving your flesh and blood better than 
mine own."
"To horse, and forward!" said Cedric.
"It is indeed full time," said the noble Athelstane; "for, if we ride not 
the faster, the worthy Abbot Waltheoff's preparations for a rere-supper 
will be altogether spoiled."
The travellers, however, used such speed as to reach the convent of St 
Withold's before the apprehended evil took place. The Abbot, himself of 
ancient Saxon descent, received the noble Saxons with the profuse and 
exuberant hospitality of their nation, wherein they indulged to a late, or 
rather an early hour; nor did they take leave of their reverend host the 
next morning until they had shared with him a sumptuous refection.
As the cavalcade left the court of the monastery, an incident happened 
somewhat alarming to, the Saxons, who, of all people of Europe, were most 
addicted to a superstitious observance of omens, and to whose opinions can 
be traced most of those notions upon such subjects, still to be found among 
our popular antiquities. For the Normans being a mixed race, and better 
informed according to the information of the times, had lost most of the 
superstitious prejudices which their ancestors had brought from 
Scandinavia, and piqued themselves upon thinking freely on such topics.
In the present instance, the apprehension of impending evil was inspired by 
no less respectable a prophet than a large lean black dog, which, sitting 
upright, howled most piteously as the foremost riders left the gate, and 
presently afterwards, barking wildly, and jumping to and fro, seemed bent 
upon attaching itself to the party.
"I like not that music, father Cedric," said Athelstane; for by this title 
of respect he was accustomed to address him.
"Nor I either, uncle," said Wamba; "I greatly fear we shall have to pay the 
piper."
"In my mind," said Athelstane, upon whose memory the Abbot's good ale (for 
Burton was already famous for that genial liquor) had made a favourable 
impression, - "in my mind we had better turn back, and abide with the Abbot 
until the afternoon. It is unlucky to travel where your path is crossed by 
a monk, a hare, or a howling dog, until you have eaten your next meal."
"Away!" said Cedric, impatiently; "the day is already too short for our 
journey. For the dog, I know it to be the cur of the runaway slave Gurth, a 
useless fugitive like its master."
So saying, and rising at the same time in his stirrups, impatient at the 
interruption of his journey, he launched his javelin at poor Fangs - for 
Fangs it was, who, having traced his master thus far upon his stolen 
expedition, had here lost him, and was now, in his uncouth way, rejoicing 
at his reappearance. The javelin inflicted a wound upon the animal's 
shoulder, and narrowly missed pinning him to the earth; and Fangs fled 
howling from the presence of the enraged thane. Gurth's heart swelled 
within him; for he felt this meditated slaughter of his faithful adherent 
in a degree much deeper than the harsh treatment he had himself received. 
Having in vain attempted to raise his hand to his eyes, he said to Wamba, 
who, seeing his master's ill humour had prudently retreated to the rear, "I 
pray thee, do me the kindness to wipe my eyes with the skirt of thy mantle; 
the dust offends me, and these bonds will not let me help myself one way or 
another."
Wamba did him the service he required, and they rode side by side for some 
time, during which Gurth maintained a moody silence. At length he could 
repress his feelings no longer.
"Friend Wamba," said he, "of all those who are fools enough to serve 
Cedric, thou alone hast dexterity enough to make thy folly acceptable to 
him. Go to him, therefore, and tell him that neither for love nor fear will 
Gurth serve him longer. He may strike the head from me - he may scourge me 
- he may load me with irons - but henceforth he shall never compel me 
either to love or to obey him. Go to him, then, and tell him that Gurth the 
son of Beowulph renounces his service."
"Assuredly," said Wamba, "fool as I am, I shall not do your fool's errand. 
Cedric hath another javelin stuck into his girdle, and thou knowest he does 
not always miss his mark."
"I care not," replied Gurth, "how soon he makes a mark of me. Yesterday he 
left Wilfred, my young master, in his blood. To-day he has striven to kill 
before my face the only other living creature that ever showed me kindness. 
By St Edmund, St Dunstan, St Withold, St Edward the Confessor, and every 
other Saxon saint in the calendar," (for Cedric never swore by any that was 
not of Saxon lineage, and all his household had the same limited devotion,) 
"I will never forgive him!"
"To my thinking now," said the Jester, who was frequently wont to act as 
peace-maker in the family, "our master did not propose to hurt Fangs, but 
only to affright him. For, if you observed, he rose in his stirrups, as 
thereby meaning to overcast the mark; and so he would have done, but Fangs 
happening to bound up at the very moment, received a scratch, which I will 
be bound to heal with a penny's breadth of tar."
"If I thought so," said Gurth - "if I could but think so - but no - I saw 
the javelin was well aimed - I heard it whizz through the air with all the 
wrathful malevolence of him who cast it, and it quivered after it had 
pitched in the ground, as if with regret for having missed its mark. By the 
hog dear to St Anthony, I renounce him!"
And the indignant swineherd resumed his sullen silence, which no efforts of 
the Jester could again induce him to break.
Meanwhile Cedric and Athelstane, the leaders of the troop, conversed 
together on the state of the land, on the dissensions of the royal family, 
on the feuds and quarrels among the Norman nobles, and on the chance which 
there was that the oppressed Saxons might be able to free themselves from 
the yoke of the Normans, or at least to elevate themselves into national 
consequence and independence, during the civil convulsions which were 
likely to ensue. On this subject Cedric was all animation. The restoration 
of the independence of his race was the idol of his heart, to which he had 
willingly sacrificed domestic happiness and the interests of his own son. 
But, in order to achieve this great revolution in favour of the native 
English, it was necessary that they should be united among themselves, and 
act under an acknowledged head. The necessity of choosing their chief from 
the Saxon blood-royal was not only evident in itself, but had been made a 
solemn condition by those whom Cedric had entrusted with his secret plans 
and hopes. Athelstane had this quality at least; and though he had few 
mental accomplishments or talents to recommend him as a leader, he had 
still a goodly person, was no coward, had been accustomed to martial 
exercises, and seemed willing to defer to the advice of counsellors more 
wise than himself. Above all, he was known to be liberal and hospitable, 
and believed to be good-natured. But whatever pretensions Athelstane had to 
be considered as head of the Saxon confederacy, many of that nation were 
disposed to prefer to his the title of the Lady Rowena, who drew her 
descent from Alfred, and whose father having been a chief renowned for 
wisdom, courage, and generosity, his memory was highly honoured by his 
oppressed countrymen.
It would have been no difficult thing for Cedric, had he been so disposed, 
to have placed himself at the head of a third party, as formidable at least 
as any of the others. To counterbalance their royal descent, he had 
courage, activity, energy, and, above all, that devoted attachment to the 
cause which had procured him the epithet of The Saxon, and his birth was 
inferior to none, excepting only that of Athelstane and his ward. These 
qualities, however, were unalloyed by the slightest shade of selfishness; 
and, instead of dividing yet farther his weakened nation by forming a 
faction of his own, it was a leading part of Cedric's plan to extinguish 
that which already existed, by promoting a marriage betwixt Rowena and 
Athelstane. An obstacle occurred to this his favourite project, in the 
mutual attachment of his ward and his son and hence the original cause of 
the banishment of Wilfred from the house of his father.
This stern measure Cedric had adopted, in hopes that, during Wilfred's 
absence, Rowena might relinquish her preference, but in this hope he was 
disappointed; a disappointment which might be attributed in part to the 
mode in which his ward had been educated. Cedric, to whom the name of 
Alfred was as that of a deity, had treated the sole remaining scion of that 
great monarch with a degree of observance, such as, perhaps, was in those 
days scarce paid to an acknowledged princess. Rowena's will had been in 
almost all cases a law to his household; and Cedric himself, as if 
determined that her sovereignty should be fully acknowledged within that 
little circle at least, seemed to take a pride in acting as the first of 
her subjects. Thus trained in the exercise not only of free will, but 
despotic authority, Rowena was, by her previous education, disposed both to 
resist and to resent any attempt to control her affections, or dispose of 
her hand contrary to her inclinations, and to assert her independence in a 
case in which even those females who have been trained up to obedience and 
subjection, are not infrequently apt to dispute the authority of guardians 
and parents. The opinions which she felt strongly, she avowed boldly; and 
Cedric, who could not free himself from his habitual deference to her 
opinions, felt totally at a loss how to enforce his authority of guardian.
It was in vain that he attempted to dazzle her with the prospect of a 
visionary throne. Rowena, who possessed strong sense, neither considered 
his plan as practicable, nor as desirable, so far as she was concerned, 
could it have been achieved. Without attempting to conceal her avowed 
preference of Wilfred of Ivanhoe, she declared that, were that favoured 
knight out of question, she would rather take refuge in a convent, than 
share a throne with Athelstane, whom, having always despised, she now 
began, on account of the trouble she received on his account, thoroughly to 
detest.
Nevertheless, Cedric, whose opinions of women's constancy was far from 
strong, persisted in using every means in his power to bring about the 
proposed match, in which he conceived he was rendering an important service 
to the Saxon cause. The sudden and romantic appearance of his son in the 
lists at Ashby, he had justly regarded as almost a death's blow to his 
hopes. His paternal affection, it is true, had for an instant gained the 
victory over pride and patriotism; but both had returned in full force, and 
under their joint operation, he was now bent upon making a determined 
effort for the union of Athelstane and Rowena, together with expediting 
those other measures which seemed necessary to forward the restoration of 
Saxon independence.
On this last subject, he was now labouring with Athelstane, not without 
having reason, every now and then, to lament, like Hotspur, that he should 
have moved such a dish of skimmed milk to so honourable an action. 
Athelstane, it is true, was vain enough, and loved to have his ears tickled 
with tales of his high descent, and of his right by inheritance to homage 
and sovereignty. But his petty vanity was sufficiently gratified by 
receiving this homage at the hands of his immediate attendants, and of the 
Saxons who approached him. If he had the courage to encounter danger, he at 
least hated the trouble of going to seek it; and while he agreed in the 
general principles laid down by Cedric concerning the claim of the Saxons 
to independence, and was still more easily convinced of his own title to 
reign over them when that independence should be attained, yet when the 
means of asserting these rights came to be discussed, he was still 
"Athelstane the Unready," slow, irresolute, procrastinating, and 
unenterprising. The warm and impassioned exhortations of Cedric had as 
little effect upon his impassive temper, as red-hot balls alighting in the 
water, which produce a little sound and smoke, and are instantly 
extinguished.
If, leaving this task, which might be compared to spurring a tired jade, or 
to hammering upon cold iron, Cedric fell back to his ward Rowena, he 
received little more satisfaction from conferring with her. For, as his 
presence interrupted the discourse between the lady and her favourite 
attendant upon the gallantry and fate of Wilfred, Elgitha, failed not to 
revenge both her mistress and herself, by recurring to the overthrow of 
Athelstane in the lists, the most disagreeable subject which could greet 
the ears of Cedric. To this sturdy Saxon, therefore, the day's journey was 
fraught with all manner of displeasure and discomfort; so that he more than 
once internally cursed the tournament, and him who had proclaimed it, 
together with his own folly in ever thinking of going thither.
At noon, upon the motion of Athelstane, the travellers paused in a woodland 
shade by a fountain, to repose their horses and partake of some provisions, 
with which the hospitable Abbot had loaded a sumpter mule. Their repast was 
a pretty long one; and these several interruptions rendered it impossible 
for them to hope to reach Rotherwood without travelling all night, a 
conviction which induced them to proceed on their way at a more hasty pace 
than they had hitherto used.


Chapter 19

		A train of armed men, some noble dame
		Escorting, (so their scatter'd words discover'd,
		As unperceived I hung upon their rear,)
		Are close at hand, and mean to pass the night
		Within the castle.
							-- Orra, a Tragedy.

The travellers had now reached the verge of the wooded country, and were 
about to plunge into its recesses, held dangerous at that time from the 
number of outlaws whom oppression and poverty had driven to despair, and 
who occupied the forests in such large bands as could easily bid defiance 
to the feeble police of the period. From these rovers, however, 
notwithstanding the lateness of the hour Cedric and Athelstane accounted 
themselves secure, as they had in attendance ten servants, besides Wamba 
and Gurth, whose aid could not be counted upon, the one being a jester and 
the other a captive. It may be added, that in travelling thus late through 
the forest, Cedric and Athelstane relied on their descent and character, as 
well as their courage. The outlaws, whom the severity of the forest laws 
had reduced to this roving and desperate mode of life, were chiefly 
peasants and yeomen of Saxon descent, and were generally supposed to 
respect the persons and property of their countrymen.
As the travellers journeyed on their way, they were alarmed by repeated 
cries for assistance; and when they rode up to the place from whence they 
came, they were surprised to find a horse-litter placed upon the ground, 
beside which sat a young woman, richly dressed in the Jewish fashion, while 
an old man, whose yellow cap proclaimed him to belong to the same nation, 
walked up and down with gestures expressive of the deepest despair, and 
wrung his hands, as if affected by some strange disaster.
To the enquiries of Athelstane and Cedric, the old Jew could for some time 
only answer by invoking the protection of all the patriarchs of the Old 
Testament successively against the sons of Ishmael, who were coming to 
smite them, hip and thigh, with the edge of the sword. When he began to 
come to himself out of this agony of terror, Isaac of York (for it was our 
old friend) was at length able to explain, that he had hired a body-guard 
of six men at Ashby, together with mules for carrying the litter of a sick 
friend. This party had undertaken to escort him as far as Doncaster. They 
had come thus far in safety; but having received information from a wood-
cutter that there was a strong band of outlaws lying in wait in the woods 
before them, Isaac's mercenaries had not only taken flight, but had carried 
off with them the horses which bore the litter and left the Jew and his 
daughter without the means either of defence or of retreat, to be 
plundered, and probably murdered, by the banditti, who they expected every 
moment would bring down upon them. "Would it but please your valours," 
added Isaac, in a tone of deep humiliation, "to permit the poor Jews to 
travel under your safeguard, I swear by the tables of our law, that never 
has favour been conferred upon a child of Israel since the days of our 
captivity, which shall be more gratefully acknowledged."
"Dog of a Jew!" said Athelstane, whose memory was of that petty kind which 
stores up trifles of all kinds, but particularly trifling offences, "dost 
not remember how thou didst beard us in the gallery at the tilt-yard? Fight 
or flee, or compound with the outlaws as thou dost list, ask neither aid 
nor company from us; and if they rob only such as thee, who rob all the 
world, I, for mine own share, shall hold them right honest folk."
Cedric did not assent to the severe proposal of his companion. "We shall do 
better," said be, "to leave them two of our attendants and two horses to 
convey them back to the next village. It will diminish our strength but 
little; and with your good sword, noble Athelstane, and the aid of those 
who remain, it will be light work for us to face twenty of those 
runagates."
Rowena, somewhat alarmed by the mention of outlaws in force, and so near 
them, strongly seconded the proposal of her guardian. But Rebecca suddenly 
quitting her dejected posture, and making her way through the attendants to 
the palfrey of the Saxon lady, knelt down, and, after the Oriental fashion 
in addressing superiors, kissed the hem of Rowena's garment. Then rising, 
and throwing back her veil, she implored her in the great name of the God 
whom they both worshipped, and by that revelation of the Law upon Mount 
Sinai, in which they both believed, that she would have compassion upon 
them, and suffer them to go forward under their safeguard. "It is not for 
myself that I pray this favour," said Rebecca; "nor is it even for that 
poor old man. I know, that to wrong and to spoil our nation is a light 
fault, if not a merit, with the Christians; and what is it to us whether it 
be done in the city, in the desert, or in the field? But it is in the name 
of one dear to many, and dear even to you, that I beseech you to let this 
sick person be transported with care and tenderness under your protection. 
For, if evil chance him, the last moment of your life would be embittered 
with regret for denying that which I ask of you."
The noble and solemn air with which Rebecca made this appeal, gave it 
double weight with the fair Saxon.
"The man is old and feeble," she said to her guardian, "the maiden young 
and beautiful, their friend sick and in peril of his life - Jews though 
they be, we cannot as Christians leave them in this extremity. Let them 
unload two of the sumpter-mules, and put the baggage behind two of the 
serfs. The mules may transport the litter, and we have led horses for the 
old man and his daughter."
Cedric readily assented to what she proposed, and Athelstane only added the 
condition, "that they should travel in the rear of the whole party, where 
Wamba," he said, "might attend them with his shield of boar's brawn."
"I have left my shield in the tilt-yard," answered the Jester, "as has been 
the fate of many a better knight than myself."
Athelstane coloured deeply, for such had been his own fate on the last day 
of the tournament; while Rowena, who was pleased in the same proportion, as 
if to make amends for the brutal jest of her unfeeling suitor, requested 
Rebecca to ride by her side.
"It were not fit I should do so," answered Rebecca, with proud humility, 
"where my society might be held a disgrace to my protectress."
By this time the change of baggage was hastily achieved; for the single 
word "outlaws" rendered every one sufficiently alert, and the approach of 
twilight made the sound yet more impressive. Amid the bustle, Gurth was 
taken from horseback, in the course of which removal he prevailed upon the 
Jester to slack the cord with which his arms were bound. It was so 
negligently refastened, perhaps intentionally, on the part of Wamba, that 
Gurth found no difficulty in freeing his arms altogether from bondage, and 
then, gliding into the thicket, he made his escape from the party.
The bustle had been considerable, and it was some time before Gurth was 
missed; for, as he was to be placed for the rest of the journey behind a 
servant, every one supposed that some other of his companions had him under 
his custody, and when it began to be whispered among them that Gurth had 
actually disappeared, they were under such immediate expectation of an 
attack from the outlaws, that it was not held convenient to pay much 
attention to the circumstance.
The path upon which the party travelled was now so narrow, as not to admit, 
with any sort of convenience, above two riders abreast, and began to 
descend into a dingle, traversed by a brook whose banks were broken, 
swampy, and overgrown with dwarf willows. Cedric and Athelstane, who were 
at the head of their retinue, saw the risk of being attacked at this pass; 
but neither of them having had much practice in war, no better mode of 
preventing the danger occurred to them than that they should hasten through 
the defile as fast as possible. Advancing, therefore, without much order, 
they had just crossed the brook with a part of their followers, when they 
were assailed in front, flank, and rear at once, with an impetuosity to 
which, in their confused and ill-prepared condition, it was impossible to 
offer effectual resistance. The shout of "A white dragon! - a white dragon! 
- Saint George for merry England!" war-cries adopted by the assailants, as 
belonging to their assumed character of Saxon outlaws, was heard on every 
side, and on every side enemies appeared with a rapidity of advance and 
attack which seemed to multiply their numbers.
Both the Saxon chiefs were made prisoners at the same moment, and each 
under circumstances expressive of his character. Cedric, the instant that 
an enemy appeared, launched at him his remaining javelin, which, taking 
better effect than that which he had hurled at Fangs, nailed the man 
against an oak-tree that happened to be close behind him. Thus far 
successful, Cedric spurred his horse against a second, drawing his sword at 
the same time, and striking with such inconsiderate fury, that his weapon 
encountered a thick branch which hung over him, and he was disarmed by the 
violence of his own blow. He was instantly made prisoner, and pulled from 
his horse by two or three of the banditti who crowded around him. 
Athelstane shared his captivity, his bridle having been seized, and he 
himself forcibly dismounted, long before he could draw his weapon, or 
assume any posture of effectual defence.
The attendants, embarrassed with baggage, surprised and terrified at the 
fate of their masters, fell an easy prey to the assailants; while the Lady 
Rowena, in the centre of the cavalcade, and the Jew and his daughter in the 
rear, experienced the same misfortune.
Of all the train none escaped except Wamba, who showed upon the occasion 
much more courage than those who pretended to greater sense. He possessed 
himself of a sword belonging to one of the domestics, who was just drawing 
it with a tardy and irresolute hand, laid it about him like a lion, drove 
back several who approached him, and made a brave though ineffectual 
attempt to succour his master. Finding himself overpowered, the Jester at 
length threw himself from his horse, plunged into the thicket, and, 
favoured by the general confusion, escaped from the scene of action.
Yet the valiant Jester, as soon as he found himself safe, hesitated more 
than once whether he should not turn back and share the captivity of a 
master to whom he was sincerely attached.
"I have heard men talk of the blessings of freedom," he said to himself, 
"but I wish any wise man would teach me what use to make of it now that I 
have it."
As he pronounced these words aloud, a voice very near him called out in a 
low and cautious tone, "Wamba!" and, at the same time, a dog, which be 
recognised to be Fangs, jumped up and fawned upon him. "Gurth!" answered 
Wamba, with the same caution, and the swineherd immediately stood before 
him.
"What is the matter?" said he eagerly; "what mean these cries, and that 
clashing of swords?"
"Only a trick of the times," said Wamba; "they are all prisoners."
"Who are prisoners?" exclaimed Gurth, impatiently.
"My lord, and my lady, and Athelstane, and Hundibert, and Oswald."
"In the name of God!" said Gurth, "how came they prisoners? - and to whom?"
"Our master was too ready to fight," said the Jester; "and Athelstane was 
not ready enough, and no other person was ready at all. And they are 
prisoners to green cassocks, and black visors. And they lie all tumbled 
about on the green, like the crab-apples that you shake down to your swine. 
And I would laugh at it," said the honest Jester, "if I could for weeping." 
And he shed tears of unfeigned sorrow.
Gurth's countenance kindled - "Wamba," he said, "thou hast a weapon, and 
thy heart was ever stronger than thy brain, - we are only two - but a 
sudden attack from men of resolution will do much - follow me!"
"Whither? - and for what purpose?" said the Jester.
"To rescue Cedric."
"But you have renounced his service but now," said Wamba.
"That," said Gurth, "was but while he was fortunate - follow me!"
As the Jester was about to obey, a third person suddenly made his 
appearance, and commanded them both to halt. From his dress and arms, Wamba 
would have conjectured him to be one of those outlaws who had just assailed 
his master; but, besides that he wore no mask, the glittering baldric 
across his shoulder, with the rich bugle-horn which it supported, as well 
as the calm and commanding expression of his voice and manner, made him, 
notwithstanding the twilight, recognise Locksley the yeoman, who had been 
victorious, under such disadvantageous circumstances, in the contest for 
the prize of archery.
"What is the meaning of all this," said he, "or who is it that rifle, and 
ransom, and make prisoners, in these forests?"
"You may look at their cassocks close by," said Wamba, "and see whether 
they be thy children's coats or no - for they are as like thine own, as one 
green pea-cod is to another."
"I will learn that presently," answered Locksley; "and I charge ye, on 
peril of your lives, not to stir from the place where ye stand, until I 
have returned. Obey me, and it shall be the better for you and your 
masters. - Yet stay, I must render myself as like these men as possible."
So saying he unbuckled his baldric with the bugle, took a feather from his 
cap, and gave them to Wamba; then drew a vizard from his pouch, and, 
repeating his charges to them to stand fast, went to execute his purposes 
of reconnoitring.
"Shall we stand fast, Gurth?" said Wamba; "or shall we e'en give him leg-
bail? In my foolish mind, he had all the equipage of a thief too much in 
readiness, to be himself a true man."
"Let him be the devil," said Gurth, "an he will. We can be no worse of 
waiting his return. If he belong to that party, he must already have given 
them the alarm, and it will avail nothing either to fight or fly. Besides, 
I have late experience, that errant thieves are not the worst men in the 
world to have to deal with."
The yeoman returned in the course of a few minutes.
"Friend Gurth," he said, "I have mingled among yon men, and have learnt to 
whom they belong, and whither they are bound. There is, I think, no chance 
that they will proceed to any actual violence against their prisoners. For 
three men to attempt them at this moment, were little else than madness; 
for they are good men of war, and have, as such, placed sentinels to give 
the alarm when any one approaches. But I trust soon to gather such a force, 
as may act in defiance of all their precautions; you are both servants, 
and, as I think, faithful servants, of Cedric the Saxon, the friend of the 
rights of Englishmen. He shall not want English hands to help him in this 
extremity. Come then with me, until I gather more aid."
So saying, he walked through the wood at a great pace, followed by the 
jester and the swineherd. It was not consistent with Wamba's humour to 
travel long in silence.
"I think," said he, looking at the baldric and bugle which he still 
carried, "that I saw the arrow shot which won this gay prize, and that not 
so long since as Christmas."
"And I," said Gurth, "could take it on my halidome, that I have heard the 
voice of the good yeoman who won it, by night as well as by day, and that 
the moon is not three days older since I did so."
"Mine honest friends," replied the yeoman, "who, or what I am, is little to 
the present purpose; should I free your master, you will have reason to 
think me the best friend you have ever had in your lives. And whether I am 
known by one name or another - or whether I can draw a bow as well or 
better than a cow-keeper, or whether it is my pleasure to walk in sunshine 
or by moonlight, are matters, which, as they do not concern you, so neither 
need ye busy yourselves respecting them."
"Our heads are in the lion's mouth," said Wamba, in a whisper to Gurth, 
"get them out how we can."
"Hush - be silent," said Gurth. "Offend him not by thy folly, and I trust 
sincerely that all will go well."


Chapter 20

			When autumn nights were long and drear,
			And forest walks were dark and dim,
			How sweetly on the pilgrim's ear
			Was wont to steal the hermit's hymn
			Devotion borrows Music's tone,
			And Music took Devotion's wing;
			And, like the bird that hails the sun,
			They soar to heaven, and soaring sing.
							-- The Hermit of St Clement's Well.

It was after three hours' good walking that the servants of Cedric, with 
their mysterious guide, arrived at a small opening in the forest, in the 
centre of which grew an oak-tree of enormous magnitude, throwing its 
twisted branches in every direction. Beneath this tree four or five yeomen 
lay stretched on the ground, while another, as sentinel, walked to and fro 
in the moonlight shade.
Upon hearing the sound of feet approaching, the watch instantly gave the 
alarm, and the sleepers as suddenly started up and bent their bows. Six 
arrows placed on the string were pointed towards the quarter from which the 
travellers approached, when their guide, being recognised, was welcomed 
with every token of respect and attachment, and all signs and fears of a 
rough reception at once subsided.
"Where is the Miller?" was his first question.
"On the road towards Rotherham."
"With how many?" demanded the leader, for such he seemed to be.
"With six men, and good hope of booty, if it please St Nicholas."
"Devoutly spoken," said Locksley; "and where is Allan-a-dale?"
"Walked up towards the Watling-street, to watch for the Prior of Jorvaulx."
"That is well thought on also," replied the Captain; - "and where is the 
Friar?"
"In his cell."
"Thither will I go," said Locksley. "Disperse and seek your companions. 
Collect what force you can, for there's game afoot that must be hunted 
hard, and will turn to bay. Meet me here by daybreak. - And stay," he 
added, "I have forgotten what is most necessary of the whole - Two of you 
take the road quickly towards Torquilstone, the Castle of Front-de-Boeuf. A 
set of gallants, who have been masquerading in such guise as our own, are 
carrying a band of prisoners thither - Watch them closely, for even if they 
reach the castle before we collect our force, our honour is concerned to 
punish them, and we will find means to do so. Keep a close watch on them 
therefore; and dispatch one of your comrades, the lightest of foot, to 
bring the news of the yeomen thereabout."
They promised implicit obedience, and departed with alacrity on their 
different errands. In the meanwhile, their leader and his two companions, 
who now looked upon him with great respect, as well as some fear, pursued 
their way to the Chapel of Copmanhurst.
When they had reached the little moonlight glade, having in front the 
reverend, though ruinous chapel, and the rude hermitage, so well suited to 
ascetic devotion, Wamba whispered to Gurth, "If this be the habitation of a 
thief, it makes good the old proverb, The nearer the church the farther 
from God. - And by my cockscomb," he added, "I think it be even so - 
Hearken but to the black sanctus which they are singing in the hermitage!"
In fact the anchorite and his guest were performing, at the full extent of 
their very powerful lungs, an old drinking song, of which this was the 
burden:

	"Come, trowl the brown bowl to me,
		Bully boy, bully boy,
	Come, trowl the brown bowl to me:
		Ho! jolly Jenkin, I spy a knave in drinking,
	Come, trowl the brown bowl to me."

"Now, that is not ill sung," said Wamba, who had thrown in a few of his own 
flourishes to help out the chorus. "But who, in the saint's name, ever 
expected to have heard such a jolly chant come from out a hermit's cell at 
midnight!"
"Marry, that should I," said Gurth, "for the jolly Clerk of Copmanhurst is 
a known man, and kills half the deer that are stolen in this walk. Men say 
that the keeper has complained to his official, and that he will be 
stripped of his cowl and cope altogether, if he keeps not better order."
While they were thus speaking, Locksley's loud and repeated knocks had at 
length disturbed the anchorite and his guest. "By my beads," said the 
hermit, stopping short in a grand flourish, "here come more benighted 
guests. I would not for my cowl that they found us in this goodly exercise. 
All men have their enemies, good Sir Sluggard; and there be those malignant 
enough to construe the hospitable refreshment which I have been offering to 
you, a weary traveller, for the matter of three short hours, into sheer 
drunkenness and debauchery, vices alike alien to my profession and my 
disposition."
"Base calumniators!" replied the knight; "I would I had the chastising of 
them. Nevertheless, Holy Clerk, it is true that all have their enemies; and 
there be those in this very land whom I would rather speak to through the 
bars of my helmet than barefaced."
"Get thine iron pot on thy head then, friend Sluggard, as quickly as thy 
nature will permit," said the hermit, "while I remove these pewter flagons, 
whose late contents run strangely in mine own pate; and to drown the 
clatter - for, in faith, I feel somewhat unsteady - strike into the tune 
which thou hearest me sing; it is no matter for the words - I scarce know 
them myself."
So saying, he struck up a thundering De profundis clamavi, under cover of 
which he removed the apparatus of their banquet: while the knight, laughing 
heartily, and arming himself all the while, assisted his host with his 
voice from time to time as his mirth permitted.
"What devil's matins are you after at this hour?" said a voice from 
without.
"Heaven forgive you, Sir Traveller!" said the hermit, whose own noise, and 
perhaps his nocturnal potations, prevented from recognising accents which 
were tolerably familiar to him - "Wend on your way, in the name of God and 
Saint Dunstan, and disturb not the devotions of me and my holy brother."
"Mad priest," answered the voice from without, "open to Locksley!"
"All's safe - all's right," said the hermit to his companion.
"But who is he?" said the Black Knight; "it imports me much to know."
"Who is he?" answered the hermit; "I tell thee he is a friend."
"But what friend?" answered the knight; "for he may be friend to thee and 
none of mine?"
"What friend?" replied the hermit; "that, now, is one of the questions that 
is more easily asked than answered. What friend? - why, he is, now that I 
bethink me a little, the very same honest keeper I told thee of a while 
since."
"Ay, as honest a keeper as thou art a pious hermit," replied the knight, "I 
doubt it not. But undo the door to him before he beat it from its hinges."
The dogs, in the meantime, which had made a dreadful baying at the 
commencement of the disturbance, seemed now to recognise the voice of him 
who stood without; for, totally changing their manner, they scratched and 
whined at the door, as if interceding for his admission. The hermit 
speedily unbolted his portal, and admitted Locksley, with his two 
companions.
"Why, hermit," was the yeoman's first question as soon as he beheld the 
knight, "what boon companion hast thou here?"
"A brother of our order," replied the friar, shaking his head; "we have 
been at our orisons all night."
"He is a monk of the church militant, I think," answered Locksley; "and 
there be more of them abroad. I tell thee, friar, thou must lay down the 
rosary and take up the quarter-staff; we shall need every one of our merry 
men, whether clerk or layman. - But," he added, taking him a step aside, 
"art thou mad? to give admittance to a knight thou dost not know? Hast thou 
forgot our articles?"
"Not know him!" replied the friar, boldly, "I know him as well as the 
beggar knows his dish."
"And what is his name, then?" demanded Locksley.
"His name," said the hermit - "his name is Sir Anthony of Scrabelstone - as 
if I would drink with a man, and did not know his name!"
"Thou hast been drinking more than enough, friar," said the woodsman, "and, 
I fear, prating more than enough too."
"Good yeoman," said the knight, coming forward, "be not wroth with my merry 
host. He did but afford me the hospitality which I would have compelled 
from him if he had refused it."
"Thou compel!" said the friar; "wait but till have changed this grey gown 
for a green cassock, and if I make not a quarter-staff ring twelve upon thy 
pate, I am neither true clerk nor good woodsman."
While he spoke thus, he stripped off his gown, and appeared in a close 
black buckram doublet and drawers, over which he speedily did on a cassock 
of green, and hose of the same colour. "I pray thee truss my points," said 
he to Wamba, "and thou shalt have a cup of sack for thy labour."
"Gramercy for thy sack," said Wamba; "but think'st thou it is lawful for me 
to aid you to transmew thyself from a holy hermit into a sinful forester?"
"Never fear," said the hermit; "I will but confess the sins of my green 
cloak to my greyfriar's frock, and all shall be well again."
"Amen!" answered the Jester; "a broadcloth penitent should have a sackcloth 
confessor, and your frock may absolve my motley doublet into the bargain."
So saying, he accommodated the friar with his assistance in tying the 
endless number of points, as the laces which attached the hose to the 
doublet were then termed.
While they were thus employed, Locksley led the knight a little apart, and 
addressed him thus: -
"Deny it not, Sir Knight - you are he who decided the victory to the 
advantage of the English against the strangers on the second day of the 
tournament at Ashby."
"And what follows if you guess truly, good yeoman?" replied the knight.
"I should in that case hold you," replied the yeoman, "a friend to the 
weaker party."
"Such is the duty of a true knight at least," replied the Black Champion; 
"and I would not willingly that there were reason to think otherwise of 
me."
"But for my purpose," said the yeoman, "thou shouldst be as well a good 
Englishman as a good knight; for that, which I have to speak of, concerns, 
indeed, the duty of every honest man, but is more especially that of a true-
born native of England."
"You can speak to no one," replied the knight, "to whom England, and the 
life of every Englishman, can be dearer than to me."
"I would willingly believe so," said the woodsman, "for never had this 
country such need to be supported by those who love her. Hear me, and I 
will tell thee of an enterprise, in which, if thou best really that which 
thou seem'st, thou mayst take an honourable part. A band of villains, in 
the disguise of better men than themselves, have made themselves master of 
the person of a noble Englishman, called Cedric the Saxon, together with 
his ward, and his friend Athelstane of Coningsburgh, and have transported 
them to a castle in this forest, called Torquilstone. I ask of thee, as a 
good knight and a good Englishman, wilt thou aid in their rescue?"
"I am bound by my vow to do so," replied the knight; "but I would willingly 
know who you are, who request my assistance in their behalf?"
"I am," said the forester, "a nameless man; but I am the friend of my 
country, and of my country's friends - With this account of me you must for 
the present remain satisfied, the more especially since you yourself desire 
to continue unknown. Believe, however, that my word, when pledged, is as 
inviolate as if I wore golden spurs."
"I willingly believe it," said the knight; "I have been accustomed to study 
men's countenances, and I can read in thine honesty and resolution. I will, 
therefore, ask thee no further questions, but aid thee in setting at 
freedom these oppressed captives; which done, I trust we shall part better 
acquainted, and well satisfied with each other."
"So," said Wamba to Gurth, - for the friar being now fully equipped, the 
Jester, having approached to the other side of the hut, had heard the 
conclusion of the conversation, - "So we have got a new ally? - l trust the 
valour of the knight will be truer metal than the religion of the hermit, 
or the honesty of the yeoman; for this Locksley looks like a born deer-
stealer, and the priest like a lusty hypocrite."
"Hold thy peace, Wamba," said Gurth; "it may all be as thou dost guess; but 
were the horned devil to rise and proffer me his assistance to set at 
liberty Cedric and the Lady Rowena, I fear I should hardly have religion 
enough to refuse the foul fiend's offer, and bid him get behind me."
The friar was now completely accoutred as a yeoman, with sword and buckler, 
bow, and quiver, and a strong partisan over his shoulder. He left his cell 
at the head of the party, and, having carefully locked the door, deposited 
the key under the threshold.
"Art thou in condition to do good service, friar," said Locksley, "or does 
the brown bowl still run in thy head?"
"Not more than a drought of St Dunstan's fountain will allay," answered the 
priest; "something there is of a whizzing in my brain, and of instability 
in my legs, but you shall presently see both pass away."
So saying, he stepped to the stone basin, in which the waters of the 
fountain as they fell formed bubbles which danced in the white moonlight, 
and took so long a drought as if he had meant to exhaust the spring.
"When didst thou drink as deep a drought of water before, Holy Clerk of 
Copmanhurst?" said the Black Knight.
"Never since my wine-but leaked, and let out its liquor by an illegal 
vent," replied the friar, "and so left me nothing to drink but my patron's 
bounty here."
Then plunging his hands and head into the fountain, he washed from them all 
marks of the midnight revel.
Thus refreshed and sobered, the jolly priest twirled his heavy partisan 
round his head with three fingers, as if he had been balancing a reed, 
exclaiming at the same time, "Where be those false ravishers, who carry off 
wenches against their will? May the foul fiend fly off with me, if I am not 
man enough for a dozen of them."
"Swearest thou, Holy Clerk?" said the Black Knight.
"Clerk me no Clerks," replied the transformed priest; "by Saint George and 
the Dragon, I am no longer a shaveling than while my frock is on my back - 
When I am cased in my green cassock, I will drink, swear, and woo a lass, 
with any blithe forester in the West Riding."
"Come on, Jack Priest," said Locksley, "and be silent; thou art as noisy as 
a whole convent on a holy eve, when the Father Abbot has gone to bed. - 
Come on you, too, my masters, tarry not to talk of it - I say, come on, we 
must collect all our forces, and few enough we shall have, if we are to 
storm the Castle of Reginald Front-de-Boeuf."
"What! is it Front-de-Boeuf," said the Black Knight, "who has stopped on 
the king's highway the king's liege subjects? - Is he turned thief and 
oppressor?"
"Oppressor he ever was," said Locksley.
"And for thief," said the priest, "I doubt if ever he were even half so 
honest a man as many a thief of my acquaintance."
"Move on, priest, and be silent," said the yeoman; "it were better you led 
the way to the place of rendezvous, than say what should be left unsaid, 
both in decency and prudence."


Chapter 21

		Alas, how many hours and years have past,
		Since human forms have round this table sate,
		Or lamp, or taper, on its surface gleam'd!
		Methinks, I hear the sound of time long pass'd
		Still murmuring o'er us, in the lofty void
		Of these dark arches, like the ling'ring voices
		Of those who long within their graves have slept.
								-- Orra, a Tragedy.

While these measures were taking in behalf of Cedric and his companions, 
the armed men by whom the latter had been seized, hurried their captives 
along towards the place of security, where they intended to imprison them. 
But darkness came on fast, and the paths of the wood seemed but imperfectly 
known to the marauders. They were compelled to make several long halts, and 
once or twice to return on their road to resume the direction which they 
wished to pursue. The summer morn had dawned upon them ere they could 
travel in full assurance that they held the right path. But confidence 
returned with light, and the cavalcade now moved rapidly forward. 
Meanwhile, the following dialogue took place between the two leaders of the 
banditti.
"It is time thou shouldst leave us, Sir Maurice," said the Templar to De 
Bracy, "in order to prepare the second part of thy mystery. Thou art next, 
thou knowest, to act the Knight Deliverer."
"I have thought better of it," said De Bracy; "I will not leave thee till 
the prize is fairly deposited in Front-de-Boeuf's castle. There will I 
appear before the Lady Rowena in mine own shape, and trust that she will 
set down to the vehemence of my passion the violence of which I have been 
guilty."
"And what has made thee change thy plan, De Bracy?" replied the Knight 
Templar.
"That concerns thee nothing," answered his companion.
"I would hope, however, Sir Knight," said the Templar, "that this 
alteration of measures arises from no suspicion of my honourable meaning, 
such as Fitzurse endeavoured to instil into thee?"
"My thoughts are my own," answered De Bracy; "the fiend laughs, they say, 
when one thief robs another; and we know, that were he to spit fire and 
brimstone instead, it would never prevent a Templar from following his 
bent."
"Or the leader of a Free Company," answered the Templar, "from dreading at 
the hands of a comrade and friend, the injustice he does to all mankind."
"This is unprofitable and perilous recrimination," answered De Bracy; 
"suffice it to say, I know the morals of the Temple-Order, and I will not 
give thee the power of cheating me out of the fair prey for which I have 
run such risks."
"Psha," replied the Templar, "what hast thou to fear? - Thou knowest the 
vows of our order."
"Right well," said De Bracy, "and also how they are kept. Come, Sir 
Templar, the laws of gallantry have a liberal interpretation in Palestine, 
and this is a case in which I will trust nothing to your conscience."
"Hear the truth, then," said the Templar; "I care not for your blue-eyed 
beauty. There is in that train one who will make me a better mate."
"What! wouldst thou stoop to the waiting damsel?" said De Bracy.
"No, Sir Knight," said the Templar, haughtily. "To the waiting-woman will I 
not stoop. I have a prize among the captives as lovely as thine own."
"By the mass, thou meanest the fair Jewess!" said De Bracy.
"And if I do," said Bois-Guilbert, "who shall gainsay me?"
"No one that I know," said De Bracy, "unless it be your vow of celibacy, or 
a cheek of conscience for an intrigue with a Jewess."
"For my vow," said the Templar, "our Grand Master hath granted me a 
dispensation. And for my conscience, a man that has slain three hundred 
Saracens, need not reckon up every little failing, like a village girl at 
her first confession upon Good Friday eve."
"Thou knowest best thine own privileges," said De Bracy. "Yet, I would have 
sworn thy thought had been more on the old usurer's money bags, than on the 
black eyes of the daughter."
"I can admire both," answered the Templar; "besides, the old Jew is but 
half-prize. I must share his spoils with Front-de-Boeuf, who will not lend 
us the use of his castle for nothing. I must have something that I can term 
exclusively my own by this foray of ours, and I have fixed on the lovely 
Jewess as my peculiar prize. But, now thou knowest my drift, thou wilt 
resume thine own original plan, wilt thou not? - Thou hast nothing, thou 
seest, to fear from my interference."
"No," replied De Bracy, "I will remain beside my prize. What thou sayst is 
passing true, but I like not the privileges acquired by the dispensation of 
the Grand Master, and the merit acquired by the slaughter of three hundred 
Saracens. You have too good a right to a free pardon, to render you very 
scrupulous about peccadilloes."
While this dialogue was proceeding, Cedric was endeavouring to wring out of 
those who guarded him an avowal of their character and purpose. "You should 
be Englishmen," said he; "and yet, sacred Heaven! you prey upon your 
countrymen as if you were very Normans. You should be my neighbours, and, 
if so, my friends; for which of my English neighbours have reason to be 
otherwise? I tell ye, yeomen, that even those among ye who have been 
branded with outlawry have had from me protection; for I have pitied their 
miseries, and cursed the oppression of their tyrannic nobles. What, then, 
would you have of me? or in what can this violence serve ye? - Ye are worse 
than brute beasts in your actions, and will you imitate them in their very 
dumbness?"
It was in vain that Cedric expostulated with his guards, who had too many 
good reasons for their silence to be induced to break it either by his 
wrath or his expostulations. They continued to hurry him along, travelling 
at a very rapid rate, until, at the end of an avenue of huge trees, arose 
Torquilstone, now the hoary and ancient castle of Reginald Front-de-Boeuf. 
It was a fortress of no great size, consisting of a donjon, or large and 
high square tower, surrounded by buildings of inferior height, which were 
encircled by an inner court-yard. Around the exterior wall was a deep moat, 
supplied with water from a neighbouring rivulet. Front-de-Boeuf, whose 
character placed him often at feud with his enemies, had made considerable 
additions to the strength of his castle, by building towers upon the 
outward wall, so as to flank it at every angle. The access, as usual in 
castles of the period, lay through an arched barbican, or outwork, which 
was terminated and defended by a small turret at each corner.
Cedric no sooner saw the turrets of Front-de-Boeuf's castle raise their 
grey and moss-grown battlements, glimmering in the morning sun above the 
wood by which they were surrounded, than he instantly augured more truly 
concerning the cause of his misfortune.
"I did injustice," he said, "to the thieves and outlaws of these woods, 
when I supposed such banditti to belong to their bands; I might as justly 
have confounded the foxes of these brakes with the ravening wolves of 
France. Tell me, dogs - is it my life or my wealth that your master aims 
at? Is it too much that two Saxons, myself and the noble Athelstane, should 
hold land in the country which was once the patrimony of our race? - Put us 
then to death, and complete your tyranny by taking our lives, as you began 
with our liberties. If the Saxon Cedric cannot rescue England, he is 
willing to die for her. Tell your tyrannical master, I do only beseech him 
to dismiss the Lady Rowena in honour and safety. She is a woman, and he 
need not dread her; and with us will die all who dare fight in her cause."
The attendants remained as mute to this address as to the former, and they 
now stood before the gate of the castle. De Bracy winded his horn three 
times, and the archers and cross-bow men, who had manned the wall upon 
seeing their approach, hastened to lower the drawbridge, and admit them. 
The prisoners were compelled by their guards to alight, and were conducted 
to an apartment where a hasty repast was offered them, of which none but 
Athelstane felt any inclination to partake. Neither had the descendant of 
the Confessor much time to do justice to the good cheer placed before them, 
for their guards gave him and Cedric to understand that they were to be 
imprisoned in a chamber apart from Rowena. Resistance was vain; and they 
were compelled to follow to a large room, which, rising on clumsy Saxon 
pillars, resembled those refectories and chapter-houses which may be still 
seen in the most ancient parts of our most ancient monasteries.
The Lady Rowena was next separated from her train, and conducted, with 
courtesy, indeed, but still without consulting her inclination, to a 
distant apartment. The same alarming distinction was conferred on Rebecca, 
in spite of her father's entreaties, who offered even money, in this 
extremity of distress, that she might be permitted to abide with him. "Base 
unbeliever," answered one of his guards, "when thou hast seen thy lair, 
thou wilt not wish thy daughter to partake it." And, without farther 
discussion, the old Jew was forcibly dragged off in a different direction 
from the other prisoners. The domestics, after being carefully searched and 
disarmed, were confined in another part of the castle; and Rowena was 
refused even the comfort she might have derived from the attendance of her 
handmaiden Elgitha.
The apartment in which the Saxon chiefs were confined, for to them we turn 
our first attention, although at present used as a sort of guard-room, had 
formerly been the great hall of the castle. It was now abandoned to meaner 
purposes, because the present lord, among other additions to the 
convenience, security, and beauty of his baronial residence, had erected a 
new and noble hall, whose vaulted roof was supported by lighter and more 
elegant pillars, and fitted up with that higher degree of ornament, which 
the Normans had already introduced into architecture.
Cedric paced the apartment, filled with indignant reflections on the past 
and on the present, while the apathy of his companion served, instead of 
patience and philosophy, to defend him against every thing save the 
inconvenience of the present moment; and so little did he feel even this 
last, that he was only from time to time roused to a reply by Cedric's 
animated and impassioned appeal to him.
"Yes," said Cedric, half speaking to himself, and half addressing himself 
to Athelstane, "it was in this very hall that my father feasted with 
Torquil Wolfganger, when he entertained the valiant and unfortunate Harold, 
then advancing against the Norwegians, who had united themselves to the 
rebel Tosti. It was in this hall that Harold returned the magnanimous 
answer to the ambassador of his rebel brother. Oft have I heard my father 
kindle as he told the tale. The envoy of Tosti was admitted, when this 
ample room could scarce contain the crowd of noble Saxon leaders, who were 
quaffing the blood-red wine around their monarch."
"I hope," said Athelstane, somewhat moved by this part of his friend's 
discourse, "they will not forget to send us some wine and refections at 
noon - we had scarce a breathing-space allowed to break our fast, and I 
never have the benefit of my food when I eat immediately after dismounting 
from horseback, though the leeches recommend that practice."
Cedric went on with his story without noticing this interjectional 
observation of his friend.
"The envoy of Tosti," he said, "moved up the hall, undismayed by the 
frowning countenances of all around him, until he made his obeisance before 
the throne of King Harold.
" 'What terms,' he said, 'Lord King, hath thy brother Tosti to hope, if he 
should lay down his arms, and crave peace at thy hands?'
" 'A brother's love,' cried the generous Harold, 'and the fair earldom of 
Northumberland.'
" 'But should Tosti accept these terms,' continued the envoy, ' what lands 
shall be assigned to his faithful ally, Hardrada, King of Norway?'
" 'Seven feet of English ground,' answered Harold, fiercely, 'or, as 
Hardrada is said to be a giant, perhaps we may allow him twelve inches 
more.'
"The hall rung with acclamations, and cup and horn was filled to the 
Norwegian, who should be speedily in possession of his English territory."
"I could have pledged him with all my soul," said Athelstane, "for my 
tongue cleaves to my palate."
"The baffled envoy," continued Cedric, pursuing with animation his tale, 
though it interested not the listener, "retreated, to carry to Tosti and 
his ally the ominous answer of his injured brother. It was then that the 
distant towers of York, and the bloody streams of the Derwent, beheld that 
direful conflict, in which, after displaying the most undaunted valour, the 
King of Norway, and Tosti, both fell, with ten thousand of their bravest 
followers. Who would have thought that upon the proud day when this battle 
was won, the very gale which waved the Saxon banners in triumph, was 
filling the Norman sails, and impelling them to the fatal shores of Sussex? 
- Who would have thought that Harold, within a few brief days, would 
himself possess no more of his kingdom, than the share which he allotted in 
his wrath to the Norwegian invader? - Who would have thought that you, 
noble Athelstane - that you, descended of Harold's blood, and that I, whose 
father was not the worst defender of the Saxon crown, should be prisoners 
to a vile Norman, in the very hall in which our ancestors held such high 
festival?"
"It is sad enough," replied Athelstane; "but I trust they will hold us to a 
moderate ransom - At any rate it cannot be their purpose to starve us 
outright; and yet, although it is high noon, I see no preparations for 
serving dinner. Look up at the window, noble Cedric, and judge by the 
sunbeams if it is not on the verge of noon."
"It may be so," answered Cedric; "but I cannot look on that stained lattice 
without its awakening other reflections than those which concern the 
passing moment, or its privations. When that window was wrought, my noble 
friend, our hardy fathers knew not the art of making glass, or of staining 
it - The pride of Wolfganger's father brought an artist from Normandy to 
adorn his hall with this new species of emblazonment, that breaks the 
golden light of God's blessed day into so many fantastic hues. The 
foreigner came here poor, beggarly, cringing, and subservient, ready to 
doff his cap to the meanest native of the household. He returned pampered 
and proud, to tell his rapacious countrymen of the wealth and the 
simplicity of the Saxon nobles - a folly, oh, Athelstane, foreboded of old, 
as well as foreseen, by those descendants of Hengist and his hardy tribes, 
who retained the simplicity of their manners. We made these strangers our 
bosom friends, our confidential servants; we borrowed their artists and 
their arts, and despised the honest simplicity and hardihood with which our 
brave ancestors supported themselves, and we became enervated by Norman 
arts long ere we fell under Norman arms. Far better was our homely diet, 
eaten in peace and liberty, than the luxurious dainties, the love of which 
hath delivered us as bondsmen to the foreign conqueror!"
"I should," replied Athelstane, "hold very humble diet a luxury at present; 
and it astonishes me, noble Cedric, that you can bear so truly in mind the 
memory of past deeds, when it appeareth you forget the very hour of 
dinner."
"It is time lost," muttered Cedric apart and impatiently, "to speak to him 
of aught else but that which concerns his appetite! The soul of Hardicanute 
hath taken possession of him, and he hath no pleasure save to fill, to 
swill, and to call for more. - Alas!" said he, looking at Athelstane with 
compassion, "that so dull a spirit should be lodged in so goodly a form! 
Alas! that such an enterprise as the regeneration of England should turn on 
a hinge so imperfect! Wedded to Rowena, indeed, her nobler and more 
generous soul may yet awake the better nature which is torpid within him. 
Yet how should this be, while Rowena, Athelstane, and I myself, remain the 
prisoners of this brutal marauder and have been made so perhaps from a 
sense of the dangers which our liberty might bring to the usurped power of 
his nation?"
While the Saxon was plunged in these painful reflections, the door of their 
prison opened, and gave entrance to a sewer, holding his white rod of 
office. This important person advanced into the chamber with a grave pace, 
followed by four attendants, bearing in a table covered with dishes, the 
sight and smell of which seemed to be an instant compensation to Athelstane 
for all the inconvenience he had undergone. The persons who attended on the 
feast were masked and cloaked.
"What mummery is this?" said Cedric; "think you that we are ignorant whose 
prisoners we are, when we are in the castle of your master? Tell him," he 
continued, willing to use this opportunity to open a negotiation for his 
freedom, - "Tell your master, Reginald Front-de-Boeuf, that we know no 
reason he can have for withholding our liberty, excepting his unlawful 
desire to enrich himself at our expense. Tell him that we yield to his 
rapacity, as in similar circumstances we should do to that of a literal 
robber. Let him name the ransom at which he rates our liberty, and it shall 
be paid, providing the exaction is suited to our means."
The sewer made no answer, but bowed his head.
"And tell Sir Reginald Front-de-Boeuf," said Athelstane, "that I send him 
my mortal defiance, and challenge him to combat with me, on foot or 
horseback, at any secure place, within eight days after our liberation; 
which, if he be a true knight, he will not, under these circumstances, 
venture to refuse or to delay."
"I shall deliver to the knight your defiance," answered the sewer; 
"meanwhile I leave you to your food."
The challenge of Athelstane was delivered with no good grace; for a large 
mouthful, which required the exercise of both jaws at once, added to a 
natural hesitation, considerably damped the effect of the bold defiance it 
contained. Still, however, his speech was hailed by Cedric as an 
incontestible token of reviving spirit in his companion, whose previous 
indifference had begun, notwithstanding his respect for Athelstane's 
descent, to wear out his patience. But he now cordially shook hands with 
him in token of his approbation, and was somewhat grieved when Athelstane 
observed, "that he would fight a dozen such men as Front-de-Boeuf, if, by 
so doing, he could hasten his departure from a dungeon where they put so 
much garlic into their pottage." Notwithstanding this intimation of a 
relapse into the apathy of sensuality, Cedric placed himself opposite to 
Athelstane, and soon showed, that if the distresses of his country could 
banish the recollection of food while the table was uncovered, yet no 
sooner were the victuals put there, than he proved that the appetite of his 
Saxon ancestors had descended to him along with their other qualities.
The captives had not long enjoyed their refreshment, however, ere their 
attention was disturbed even from this most serious occupation by the blast 
of a horn winded before the gate. It was repeated three times, with as much 
violence as if it had been blown before an enchanted castle by the destined 
knight, at whose summons halls and towers, barbican and battlement, were to 
roll off like a morning vapour. The Saxons started from the table, and 
hastened to the window. But their curiosity was disappointed; for these 
outlets only looked upon the court of the castle, and the sound came from 
beyond its precincts. The summons, however, seemed of importance, for a 
considerable degree of bustle instantly took place in the castle.


Chapter 22

		My daughter - O my ducats - O my daughter!
		-- -- -- O my Christian ducats!
		Justice - the Law - my ducats, and my daughter!
								-- Merchant of Venice.


Leaving the Saxon chiefs to return to their banquet as soon as their 
ungratified curiosity should permit them to attend to the calls of their 
half-satiated appetite, we have to look in upon the yet more severe 
imprisonment of Isaac of York. The poor Jew had been hastily thrust into a 
dungeon-vault of the castle, the floor of which was deep beneath the level 
of the ground, and very damp, being lower than even the moat itself. The 
only light was received through one or two loop-holes far above the reach 
of the captive's hand. These apertures admitted, even at mid-day, only a 
dim and uncertain light, which was changed for utter darkness long before 
the rest of the castle had lost the blessing of day. Chains and shackles, 
which had been the portion of former captives, from whom active exertions 
to escape had been apprehended, hung rusted and empty on the walls of the 
prison, and in the rings of one of those sets of fetters there remained two 
mouldering bones, which seemed to have been once those of the human leg, as 
if some prisoner had been left not only to perish there, but to be consumed 
to a skeleton.
At one end of this ghastly apartment was a large fire-grate, over the top 
of which were stretched some transverse iron bars, half devoured with rust.
The whole appearance of the dungeon might have appalled a stouter heart 
than that of Isaac, who, nevertheless, was more composed under the imminent 
pressure of danger, than he had seemed to be while affected by terrors, of 
which the cause was as yet remote and contingent. The lovers of the chase 
say that the hare feels more agony during the pursuit of the greyhounds, 
than when she is struggling in their fangs. And thus it is probable, that 
the Jews, by the very frequency of their fear on all occasions, had their 
minds in some degree prepared for every effort of tyranny which could be 
practised upon them; so that no aggression, when it had taken place, could 
bring with it that surprise which is the most disabling quality of terror. 
Neither was it the first time that Isaac had been placed in circumstances 
so dangerous. He had therefore experience to guide him, as well as hope, 
that he might again, as formerly, be delivered as a prey from the fowler. 
Above all, he had upon his side the unyielding obstinacy of his nation, and 
that unbending resolution, with which Israelites have been frequently known 
to submit to the uttermost evils which power and violence can inflict upon 
them, rather than gratify their oppressors by granting their demands.
In this humour of passive resistance, and with his garment collected 
beneath him to keep his limbs from the wet pavement, Isaac sat in a corner 
of his dungeon, where his folded hands, his dishevelled hair and beard, his 
furred cloak and high cap, seen by the wiry and broken light, would have 
afforded a study for Rembrandt, had that celebrated painter existed at the 
period. The Jew remained, without altering his position, for nearly three 
hours, at the expiry of which steps were heard on the dungeon stair. The 
bolts screamed as they were withdrawn - the hinges creaked as the wicket 
opened, and Reginald Front-de-Boeuf, followed by the two Saracen slaves of 
the Templar, entered the prison.
Front-de-Boeuf, a tall and strong man, whose life had been spent in public 
war or in private feuds and broils, and who had hesitated at no means of 
extending his feudal power, had features corresponding to his character, 
and which strongly expressed the fiercer and more malignant passions of the 
mind. The scars with which his visage was seamed, would, on features of a 
different cast, have excited the sympathy and veneration due to the marks 
of honourable valour; but, in the peculiar case of Front-de-Boeuf, they 
only added to the ferocity of his countenance, and to the dread which his 
presence inspired. This formidable baron was clad in a leathern doublet, 
fitted close to his body, which was frayed and soiled with the stains of 
his armour. He had no weapon, excepting a poniard at his belt, which served 
to counterbalance the weight of the bunch of rusty keys that hung at his 
right side.
The black slaves who attended Front-de-Boeuf were stripped of their 
gorgeous apparel, and attired in jerkins and trousers of coarse linen, 
their sleeves being tucked up above the elbow, like those of butchers when 
about to exercise their function in the slaughter-house. Each had in his 
hand a small pannier; and, when they entered the dungeon, they stopped at 
the door until Front-de-Boeuf himself carefully locked and double-locked 
it. Having taken this precaution, he advanced slowly up the apartment 
towards the Jew, upon whom he kept his eye fixed, as if he wished to 
paralyse him with his glance, as some animals are said to fascinate their 
prey. It seemed indeed as if the sullen and malignant eye of Front-de-Boeuf 
possessed some portion of that supposed power over his unfortunate 
prisoner. The Jew sate with his mouth a-gape, and his eyes fixed on the 
savage baron with such earnestness of terror, that his frame seemed 
literally to shrink together, and to diminish in size while encountering 
the fierce Norman's fixed and baleful gaze. The unhappy Isaac was deprived 
not only of the power of rising to make the obeisance which his terror 
dictated, but he could not even doff his cap, or utter any word of 
supplication; so strongly was he agitated by the conviction that tortures 
and death were impending over him.
On the other hand, the stately form of the Norman appeared to dilate in 
magnitude, like that of the eagle, which ruffles up its plumage when about 
to pounce on its defenceless prey. He paused within three steps of the 
corner in which the unfortunate Jew had now, as it were, coiled himself up 
into the smallest possible space, and made a sign for one of the slaves to 
approach. The black satellite came forward accordingly, and, producing from 
his basket a large pair of scales and several weights, he laid them at the 
feet of Front-de-Boeuf, and again retired to the respectful distance, at 
which his companion had already taken his station.
The motions of these men were slow and solemn, as if there impended over 
their souls some preconception of horror and of cruelty. Front-de-Boeuf 
himself opened the scene by thus addressing his ill-fated captive.
"Most accursed dog of an accursed race," he said, awaking with his deep and 
sullen voice the sullen echoes of his dungeon vault, "seest thou these 
scales?"
The unhappy Jew returned a feeble affirmative.
"In these very scales shalt thou weigh me out," said the relentless Baron, 
"a thousand silver pounds, after the just measure and weight of the Tower 
of London."
"Holy Abraham!" returned the Jew, finding voice through the very extremity 
of his danger, "heard man ever such a demand? - Who ever heard, even in a 
minstrel's tale, of such a sum as a thousand pounds of silver? - What human 
sight was ever blessed with the vision of such a mass of treasure? - Not 
within the walls of York, ransack my house and that of all my tribe, wilt 
thou find the tithe of that huge sum of silver that thou speakest of."
"I am reasonable," answered Front-de-Boeuf, "and if silver be scant, I 
refuse not gold. At the rate of a mark of gold for each six pounds of 
silver, thou shalt free thy unbelieving carcass from such punishment as thy 
heart has never even conceived."
"Have mercy on me, noble knight!" exclaimed Isaac; "I am old, and poor, and 
helpless. It were unworthy to triumph over me - It is a poor deed to crush 
a worm."
"Old thou mayst be," replied the knight; "more shame to their folly who 
have suffered thee to grow grey in usury and knavery - Feeble thou mayst 
be, for when had a Jew either heart or hand - But rich it is well known 
thou art."
"I swear to you, noble knight," said the Jew "by all which I believe, and 
by all which we believe in common - "
"Perjure not thyself," said the Norman, interrupting him, "and let not 
thine obstinacy seal thy doom, until thou hast seen and well considered the 
fate that awaits thee. Think not I speak to thee only to excite thy terror, 
and practise on the base cowardice thou hast derived from thy tribe. I 
swear to thee by that which thou dost not believe, by the gospel which our 
church teaches, and by the keys which are given her to bind and to loose, 
that my purpose is deep and peremptory. This dungeon is no place for 
trifling. Prisoners ten thousand times more distinguished than thou have 
died within these walls, and their fate hath never been known! But for thee 
is reserved a long and lingering death, to which theirs were luxury."
He again made a signal for the slaves to approach, and spoke to them apart, 
in their own language; for he also had been in Palestine, where perhaps, he 
had learnt his lesson of cruelty. The Saracens produced from their baskets 
a quantity of charcoal, a pair of bellows, and a flask of oil. While the 
one struck a light with a flint and steel, the other disposed the charcoal 
in the large rusty grate which we have already mentioned, and exercised the 
bellows until the fuel came to a red glow.
"Seest thou, Isaac," said Front-de-Boeuf, "the range of iron bars above the 
glowing charcoal? - on that warm couch thou shalt lie, stripped of thy 
clothes as if thou wert to rest on a bed of down. One of these slaves shall 
maintain the fire beneath thee, while the other shall anoint thy wretched 
limbs with oil, lest the roast should burn. - Now, choose betwixt such a 
scorching bed and the payment of a thousand pounds of silver; for, by the 
head of my father, thou hast no other option."
"It is impossible," exclaimed the miserable Jew - "it is impossible that 
your purpose can be real! The good God of nature never made a heart capable 
of exercising such cruelty!"
"Trust not to that, Isaac," said Front-de-Boeuf, "it were a fatal error. 
Dost thou think that I, who have seen a town sacked, in which thousands of 
my Christian countrymen perished by sword, by flood, and by fire, will 
blench from my purpose for the outcries or screams of one single wretched 
Jew? - or thinkest thou that these swarthy slaves, who have neither law, 
country, nor conscience, but their master's will - who use the poison, or 
the stake, or the poniard, or the cord, at his slightest wink - thinkest 
thou that they will have mercy, who do not even understand the language in 
which it is asked? - Be wise, old man; discharge thyself of a portion of 
thy superfluous wealth; repay to the hands of a Christian a part of what 
thou hast acquired by the usury thou hast practised on those of his 
religion. Thy cunning may soon swell out once more thy shrivelled purse, 
but neither leech nor medicine can restore thy scorched hide and flesh wert 
thou once stretched on these bars. Tell down thy ransom, I say, and rejoice 
that at such rate thou canst redeem thee from a dungeon, the secrets of 
which few have returned to tell. I waste no more words with thee - choose 
between thy dross and thy flesh and blood, and as thou choosest, so shall 
it be."
"So may Abraham, Jacob, and all the fathers of our people assist me," said 
Isaac, "I cannot make the choice, because I have not the means of 
satisfying your exorbitant demand!"
"Seize him and strip him, slaves," said the knight, "and let the fathers of 
his race assist him if they can."
The assistants, taking their directions more from the Baron's eye and his 
hand than his tongue, once more stepped forward, laid hands on the 
unfortunate Isaac, plucked him up from the ground, and, holding him between 
them, waited the hard-hearted Baron's farther signal. The unhappy Jew eyed 
their countenances and that of Front-de-Boeuf, in hope of discovering some 
symptoms of relenting; but that of the Baron exhibited the same cold, half-
sullen, half-sarcastic smile which had been the prelude to his cruelty; and 
the savage eyes of the Saracens, rolling gloomily under their dark brows, 
acquiring a yet more sinister expression by the whiteness of the circle 
which surrounds the pupil, evinced rather the secret pleasure which they 
expected from the approaching scene, than any reluctance to be its 
directors or agents. The Jew then looked at the glowing furnace, over which 
he was presently to be stretched, and seeing no chance of his tormentor's 
relenting, his resolution gave way.
"I will pay," he said, "the thousand pounds of silver - That is," he added, 
after a moment's pause, "I will pay it with the help of my brethren; for I 
must beg as a mendicant at the door of our synagogue ere I make up so 
unheard-of a sum. - When and where must it be delivered?"
"Here," replied Front-de-Boeuf, "here it must be delivered - weighed it 
must be - weighed and told down on this very dungeon floor. - Thinkest thou 
I will part with thee until thy ransom is secure?"
"And what is to be my surety," said the Jew, "that I shall be at liberty 
after this ransom is paid?"
"The word of a Norman noble, thou pawnbroking slave," answered Front-de-
Boeuf; "the faith of a Norman nobleman, more pure than the gold and silver 
of thee and all thy tribe."
"I crave pardon, noble lord," said Isaac timidly, "but wherefore should I 
rely wholly on the word of one who will trust nothing to mine?"
"Because thou canst not help it, Jew," said the knight, sternly. "Wert thou 
now in thy treasure-chamber at York, and were I craving a loan of thy 
shekels, it would be thine to dictate the time of payment, and the pledge 
of security. This is my treasure-chamber. Here I have thee at advantage, 
nor will I again deign to repeat the terms on which I grant thee liberty."
The Jew groaned deeply. - "Grant me," he said, "at least with my own 
liberty, that of the companions with whom I travel. They scorned me as a 
Jew, yet they pitied my desolation, and because they tarried to aid me by 
the way, a share of my evil hath come upon them; moreover, they may 
contribute in some sort to my ransom."
"If thou meanest yonder Saxon churls," said Front-de-Boeuf, "their ransom 
will depend upon other terms than thine. Mind thine own concerns, Jew, I 
warn thee, and meddle not with those of others."
"I am, then," said Isaac, "only to be set at liberty, together with mine 
wounded friend?"
"Shall I twice recommend it," said Front-de-Boeuf, "to a son of Israel, to 
meddle with his own concerns, and leave those of others alone? - Since thou 
hast made thy choice, it remains but that thou payest down thy ransom, and 
that at a short day."
"Yet hear me," said the Jew - "for the sake of that very wealth which thou 
wouldst obtain at the expense of thy - " Here he stopped short, afraid of 
irritating the savage Norman. But Front-de-Boeuf only laughed, and himself 
filled up the blank at which the Jew had hesitated. "At the expense of my 
conscience, thou wouldst say, Isaac; speak it out - I tell thee, I am 
reasonable. I can bear the reproaches of a loser, even when that loser is a 
Jew. Thou wert not so patient, Isaac, when thou didst invoke justice 
against Jacques Fitzdotterel, for calling thee a usurious blood-sucker, 
when thy exactions had devoured his patrimony."
"I swear by the Talmud," said the Jew, "that your valour has been misled in 
that matter. Fitzdotterel drew his poniard upon me in mine own chamber, 
because I craved him for mine own silver. The term of payment was due at 
the Passover."
"I care not what he did," said Front-de-Boeuf; "the question is, when shall 
I have mine own? - when shall I have the shekels, Isaac?"
"Let my daughter Rebecca go forth to York," answered Isaac, "with your safe 
conduct, noble knight, and so soon as man and horse can return, the 
treasure - " Here he groaned deeply, but added, after the pause of a few 
seconds, - "The treasure shall be told down on this very floor."
"Thy daughter!" said Front-de-Boeuf, as if surprised, - "By heavens, Isaac, 
I would I had known of this. I deemed that yonder black-browed girl had 
been thy concubine, and I gave her to be a handmaiden to Sir Brian de Bois-
Guilbert, after the fashion of patriarchs and heroes of the days of old, 
who set us in these matters a wholesome example."
The yell which Isaac raised at this unfeeling communication made the very 
vault to ring, and astounded the two Saracens so much that they let go 
their hold of the Jew. He availed himself of his enlargement to throw 
himself on the pavement, and clasp the knees of Front-de-Boeuf.
"Take all that you have asked," said he, "Sir Knight - take ten times more 
- reduce me to ruin and to beggary, if thou wilt, - nay, pierce me with thy 
poniard, broil me on that furnace, but spare my daughter, deliver her in 
safety and honour! - As thou art born of woman, spare the honour of a 
helpless maiden - She is the image of my deceased Rachel, she is the last 
of six pledges of her love - Will you deprive a widowed husband of his sole 
remaining comfort? - Will you reduce a father to wish that his only living 
child were laid beside her dead mother, in the tomb of our fathers?"
"I would," said the Norman, somewhat relenting, "that I had known of this 
before. I thought your race had loved nothing save their moneybags."
"Think not so vilely of us, Jews though we be," said Isaac, eager to 
improve the moment of apparent sympathy; "the hunted fox, the tortured 
wildcat loves its young - the despised and persecuted race of Abraham love 
their children!"
"Be it so," said Front-de-Boeuf; "I will believe it in future, Isaac, for 
thy very sake - but it aids us not now, I cannot help what has happened, or 
what is to follow; my word is passed to my comrade in arms, nor would I 
break it for ten Jews and Jewesses to boot. Besides, why shouldst thou 
think evil is to come to the girl, even if she became Bois-Guilbert's 
booty?"
"There will, there must!" exclaimed Isaac, wringing his hands in agony; 
"when did Templars breathe aught but cruelty to men, and dishonour to 
women!"
"Dog of an infidel," said Front-de-Boeuf, with sparkling eyes, and not 
sorry, perhaps, to seize a pretext for working himself into a passion, 
"blaspheme not the Holy Order of the Temple of Zion, but take thought 
instead to pay me the ransom thou hast promised, or woe betide thy Jewish 
throat!"
"Robber and villain!" said the Jew, retorting the insults of his oppressor 
with passion, which, however impotent, he now found it impossible to 
bridle, "I will pay thee nothing - not one silver penny will I pay thee, 
unless my daughter is delivered to me in safety and honour?"
"Art thou in thy senses, Israelite?" said the Norman, sternly - "has thy 
flesh and blood a charm against heated iron and scalding oil?"
"I care not!" said the Jew, rendered desperate by paternal affection; "do 
thy worst. My daughter is my flesh and blood, dearer to me a thousand times 
than those limbs which thy cruelty threatens. No silver will I give thee, 
unless I were to pour it molten down thy avaricious throat - no, not a 
silver penny will I give thee, Nazarene, were it to save thee from the deep 
damnation thy whole life has merited! Take my life if thou wilt, and say, 
the Jew, amidst his tortures, knew how to disappoint the Christian."
"We shall see that," said Front-de-Boeuf; "for by the blessed rood, which 
is the abomination of thy accursed tribe, thou shalt feel the extremities 
of fire and steel! - Strip him, slaves, and chain him down upon the bars."
In spite of the feeble struggles of the old man, the Saracens had already 
torn from him his upper garment, and were proceeding totally to disrobe 
him, when the sound of a bugle, twice winded without the castle, penetrated 
even to the recesses of the dungeon, and immediately after loud voices were 
heard calling for Sir Reginald Front-de-Boeuf. Unwilling to be found 
engaged in his hellish occupation, the savage Baron gave the slaves a 
signal to restore Isaac's garment, and, quitting the dungeon with his 
attendants, he left the Jew to thank God for his own deliverance, or to 
lament over his daughter's captivity, and probable fate, as his personal or 
parental feelings might prove strongest.


Chapter 23

		Nay, if the gentle spirit of moving words
		Can no way change you to a milder form,
		I'll woo you, like a soldier, at arms' end,
		And love you 'gainst the nature of love, force you.
							-- Two Gentlemen of Verona.

The apartment to which the Lady Rowena had been introduced was fitted up 
with some rude attempts at ornament and magnificence, and her being placed 
there might be considered as a peculiar mark of respect not offered to the 
other prisoners. But the wife of Front-de-Boeuf, for whom it had been 
originally furnished, was long dead, and decay and neglect had impaired the 
few ornaments with which her taste had adorned it. The tapestry hung down 
from the walls in many places, and in others was tarnished and faded under 
the effects of the sun, or tattered and decayed by age. Desolate, however, 
as it was, this was the apartment of the castle which had been judged most 
fitting for the accommodation of the Saxon heiress; and here she was left 
to meditate upon her fate, until the actors in this nefarious drama had 
arranged the several parts which each of them was to perform. This had been 
settled in a council held by Front-de-Boeuf, De Bracy, and the Templar, in 
which, after a long and warm debate concerning the several advantages which 
each insisted upon deriving from his peculiar share in this audacious 
enterprise, they had at length determined the fate of their unhappy 
prisoners.
It was about the hour of noon, therefore, when De Bracy, for whose 
advantage the expedition had been first planned, appeared to prosecute his 
views upon the hand and possessions of the Lady Rowena.
The interval had not entirely been bestowed in holding council with his 
confederates, for De Bracy had found leisure to decorate his person with 
all the foppery of the times. His green cassock and vizard were now flung 
aside. His long luxuriant hair was trained to flow in quaint tresses down 
his richly furred cloak. His beard was closely shaved, his doublet reached 
to the middle of his leg, and the girdle which secured it, and at the same 
time supported his ponderous sword, was embroidered and embossed with gold 
work. We have already noticed the extravagant fashion of the shoes at this 
period, and the points of Maurice de Bracy's might have challenged the 
prize of extravagance with the gayest, being turned up and twisted like the 
horns of a ram. Such was the dress of a gallant of the period; and, in the 
present instance, that effect was aided by the handsome person and good 
demeanour of the wearer, whose manners partook alike of the grace of a 
courtier, and the frankness of a soldier.
He saluted Rowena by doffing his velvet bonnet, garnished with a golden 
broach, representing St Michael trampling down the Prince of Evil. With 
this, he gently motioned the lady to a seat; and, as she still retained her 
standing posture, the knight ungloved his right hand, and motioned to 
conduct her thither. But Rowena declined, by her gesture, the proffered 
compliment, and replied, "If I be in the presence of my jailor, Sir Knight 
- nor will circumstances allow me to think otherwise - it best becomes his 
prisoner to remain standing till she learns her doom."
"Alas! fair Rowena," returned De Bracy, "you are in presence of your 
captive, not your jailor; and it is from your fair eyes that De Bracy must 
receive that doom which you fondly expect from him."
"I know you not, sir," said the lady, drawing herself up with all the pride 
of offended rank and beauty; "I know you not - and the insolent familiarity 
with which you apply to me the jargon of a troubadour, forms no apology for 
the violence of a robber."
"To thyself, fair maid," answered De Bracy, in his former tone - "to thine 
own charms be ascribed whate'er I have done which passed the respect due to 
her, whom I have chosen queen of my heart, and loadstar of my eyes."
"I repeat to you, Sir Knight, that I know you not, and that no man wearing 
chain and spurs ought thus to intrude himself upon the presence of an 
unprotected lady."
"That I am unknown to you," said De Bracy, "is indeed my misfortune; yet 
let me hope that De Bracy's name has not been always unspoken, when 
minstrels or heralds have praised deeds of chivalry, whether in the lists 
or in the battle-field."
"To heralds and to minstrels, then, leave thy praise, Sir Knight," replied 
Rowena, "more suiting for their mouths than for thine own; and tell me 
which of them shall record in song, or in book of tourney, the memorable 
conquest of this night, a conquest obtained over an old man, followed by a 
few timid hinds; and its booty, an unfortunate maiden, transported against 
her will to the castle of a robber?"
"You are unjust, Lady Rowena," said the knight, biting his lips in some 
confusion, and speaking in a tone more natural to him than that of affected 
gallantry, which he had at first adopted; "yourself free from passion, you 
can allow no excuse for the frenzy of another, although caused by your own 
beauty."
"I pray you, Sir Knight," said Rowena, "to cease a language so commonly 
used by strolling minstrels, that it becomes not the mouth of knights or 
nobles. Certes, you constrain me to sit down, since you enter upon such 
commonplace terms, of which each vile crowder hath a stock that might last 
from hence to Christmas."
"Proud damsel," said De Bracy, incensed at finding his gallant style 
procured him nothing but contempt - "proud damsel, thou shalt be as proudly 
encountered. Know then, that I have supported my pretensions to your hand 
in the way that best suited thy character. It is meeter for thy humour to 
be wooed with bow and bill, than in set terms, and in courtly language."
"Courtesy of tongue," said Rowena, "when it is used to veil churlishness of 
deed, is but a knight's girdle around the breast of a base clown. I wonder 
not that the restraint appears to gall you - more it were for your honour 
to have retained the dress and language of an outlaw, than to veil the 
deeds of one under an affectation of gentle language and demeanour."
"You counsel well, lady," said the Norman; "and in the bold language which 
best justifies bold action I tell thee, thou shalt never leave this castle, 
or thou shalt leave it as Maurice de Bracy's wife. I am not wont to be 
baffled in my enterprises, nor needs a Norman noble scrupulously to 
vindicate his conduct to the Saxon maiden whom be distinguishes by the 
offer of his hand. Thou art proud, Rowena, and thou art the fitter to be my 
wife. By what other means couldst thou be raised to high honour and to 
princely place, saving by my alliance? How else wouldst thou escape from 
the mean precincts of a country grange, where Saxons herd with the swine 
which form their wealth, to take thy seat, honoured as thou shouldst be, 
and shalt be, amid all in England that is distinguished by beauty, or 
dignified by power?"
"Sir Knight," replied Rowena, "the grange which you contemn hath been my 
shelter from infancy; and, trust me, when I leave it - should that day ever 
arrive - it shall be with one who has not learnt to despise the dwelling 
and manners in which I have been brought up."
"I guess your meaning, lady," said De Bracy, "though you may think it lies 
too obscure for my apprehension. But dream not, that Richard Coeur de Lion 
will ever resume his throne, far less that Wilfred of Ivanhoe, his minion, 
will ever lead thee to his footstool, to be there welcomed as the bride of 
a favourite. Another suitor might feel jealousy while he touched this 
string; but my firm purpose cannot be changed by a passion so childish and 
so hopeless. Know, lady, that this rival is in my power, and that it rests 
but with me to betray the secret of his being within the castle to Front-de-
Boeuf, whose jealousy will be more fatal than mine."
"Wilfred here?" said Rowena, in disdain; "that is as true as that Front-de-
Boeuf is his rival."
De Bracy looked at her steadily for an instant.
"Wert thou really ignorant of this?" said he; "didst thou not know that 
Wilfred of Ivanhoe travelled in the litter of the Jew? - a meet conveyance 
for the crusader, whose doughty arm was to reconquer the Holy Sepulchre!" 
And he laughed scornfully.
"And if he is here," said Rowena, compelling herself to a tone of 
indifference, though trembling with an agony of apprehension which she 
could not suppress, "in what is he the rival of Front-de-Boeuf? or what has 
he to fear beyond a short imprisonment, and an honourable ransom, according 
to the use of chivalry?"
"Rowena," said De Bracy, "art thou, too, deceived by the common error of 
thy sex, who think there can be no rivalry but that respecting their own 
charms? Knowest thou not there is a jealousy of ambition and of wealth, as 
well as of love; and that this our host, Front-de-Boeuf, will push from his 
road him who opposes his claim to the fair barony of Ivanhoe, as readily, 
eagerly, and unscrupulously, as if he were preferred to him by some blue-
eyed damsel? But smile on my suit, lady, and the wounded champion shall 
have nothing to fear from Front-de-Boeuf, whom else thou mayst mourn for, 
as in the hands of one who has never shown compassion."
"Save him, for the love of Heaven!" said Rowena, her firmness giving way 
under terror for her lover's impending fate.
"I can - I will - it is my purpose," said De Bracy; 'for, when Rowena 
consents to be the bride of De Bracy, who is it shall dare to put forth a 
violent hand upon her kinsman - the son of her guardian - the companion of 
her youth? But it is thy love must buy his protection. I am not romantic 
fool enough to further the fortune, or avert the fate, of one who is likely 
to be a successful obstacle between me and my wishes. Use thine influence 
with me in his behalf, and he is safe, - refuse to employ it, Wilfred dies, 
and thou thyself art not the nearer to freedom."
"Thy language," answered Rowena, "hath in its indifferent bluntness 
something which cannot be reconciled with the horrors it seems to express. 
I believe not that thy purpose is so wicked, or thy power so great."
"Flatter thyself, then, with that belief," said De Bracy, "until time shall 
prove it false. Thy lover lies wounded in this castle - thy preferred 
lover. He is a bar betwixt Front-de-Boeuf and that which Front-de-Boeuf 
loves better than either ambition or beauty. What will it cost beyond the 
blow of a poniard, or the thrust of a javelin, to silence his opposition 
for ever? Nay, were Front-de-Boeuf afraid to justify a deed so open, let 
the leech but give his patient a wrong draught - let the chamberlain, or 
the nurse who tends him, but pluck the pillow from his head, and Wilfred in 
his present condition, is sped without the effusion of blood. Cedric also - 
"
"And Cedric also," said Rowena, repeating his words; "my noble - my 
generous guardian! I deserved the evil I have encountered, for forgetting 
his fate even in that of his son!"
"Cedric's fate also depends upon thy determination," said De Bracy; "and I 
leave thee to form it."
Hitherto, Rowena had sustained her part in this trying scene with 
undismayed courage, but it was because she had not considered the danger as 
serious and imminent. Her disposition was naturally that which 
physiognomists consider as proper to fair complexions, mild, timid, and 
gentle; but it had been tempered, and, as it were, hardened, by the 
circumstances of her education. Accustomed to see the will of all, even of 
Cedric himself, (sufficiently arbitrary with others,) give way before her 
wishes, she had acquired that sort of courage and self-confidence which 
arises from the habitual and constant deference of the circle in which we 
move. She could scarce conceive the possibility of her will being opposed, 
far less that of its being treated with total disregard.
Her haughtiness and habit of domination was, therefore, a fictitious 
character, induced over that which was natural to her, and it deserted her 
when her eyes were opened to the extent of her own danger, as well as that 
of her lover and her guardian; and when she found her will, the slightest 
expression of which was wont to command respect and attention, now placed 
in opposition to that of a man of a strong, fierce, and determined mind, 
who possessed the advantage over her, and was resolved to use it, she 
quailed before him.
After casting her eyes around, as if to look for the aid which was nowhere 
to be found, and after a few broken interjections, she raised her hands to 
heaven, and burst into a passion of uncontrolled vexation and sorrow. It 
was impossible to see so beautiful a creature in such extremity without 
feeling for her, and De Bracy was not unmoved, though he was yet more 
embarrassed than touched. He had, in truth, gone too far to recede; and 
yet, in Rowena's present condition, she could not be acted on either by 
argument or threats. He paced the apartment to and fro, now vainly 
exhorting the terrified maiden to compose herself, now hesitating 
concerning his own line of conduct.
If, thought he, I should be moved by the tears and sorrow of this 
disconsolate damsel, what should I reap but the loss of these fair hopes 
for which I have encountered so much risk, and the ridicule of Prince John 
and his jovial comrades? "And yet," he said to himself, "I feel myself ill 
framed for the part which I am playing. I cannot look on so fair a face 
while it is disturbed with agony, or on those eyes when they are drowned in 
tears. I would she had retained her original haughtiness of disposition, or 
that I had a larger share of Front-de-Boeuf's thrice-tempered hardness of 
heart!"
Agitated by these thoughts, he could only bid the unfortunate Rowena be 
comforted, and assure her, that as yet she had no reason for the excess of 
despair to which she was now giving way. But in this task of consolation De 
Bracy was interrupted by the horn, "hoarse-winded blowing far and keen," 
which had at the same time alarmed the other inmates of the castle, and 
interrupted their several plans of avarice and of license. Of them all, 
perhaps, De Bracy least regretted the interruption; for his conference with 
the Lady Rowena had arrived at a point, where he found it equally difficult 
to prosecute or to resign his enterprise.
And here we cannot but think it necessary to offer some better proof than 
the incidents of an idle tale, to vindicate the melancholy representation 
of manners which has been just laid before the reader. It is grievous to 
think that those valiant barons, to whose stand against the crown the 
liberties of England were indebted for their existence, should themselves 
have been such dreadful oppressors, and capable of excesses contrary not 
only to the laws of England, but to those of nature and humanity. But, 
alas! we have only to extract from the industrious Henry one of those 
numerous passages which he has collected from contemporary historians, to 
prove that fiction itself can hardly reach the dark reality of the horrors 
of the period.
The description given by the author of the Saxon Chronicle of the cruelties 
exercised in the reign of King Stephen by the great barons and lords of 
castles, who were all Normans, affords a strong proof of the excesses of 
which they were capable when their passions were inflamed. "They grievously 
oppressed the poor people by building castles; and when they were built, 
they filled them with wicked men, or rather devils, who seized both men and 
women who they imagined had any money, threw them into prison, and put them 
to more cruel tortures than the martyrs ever endured. They suffocated some 
in mud, and suspended others by the feet, or the head, or the thumbs, 
kindling fires below them. They squeezed the heads of some with knotted 
cords till they pierced their brains, while they threw others into dungeons 
swarming with serpents, snakes, and toads." But it would be cruel to put 
the reader to the pain of perusing the remainder of this description.
As another instance of these bitter fruits of conquest, and perhaps the 
strongest that can be quoted, we may mention, that the Princess Matilda, 
though a daughter of the King of Scotland, and afterwards both Queen of 
England, niece to Edgar Atheling, and mother to the Empress of Germany, the 
daughter, the wife, and the mother of monarchs, was obliged, during her 
early residence for education in England, to assume the veil of a nun, as 
the only means of escaping the licentious pursuit of the Norman nobles. 
This excuse she stated before a great council of the clergy of England, as 
the sole reason for her having taken the religious habit. The assembled 
clergy admitted the validity of the plea,and the notoriety of the 
circumstances upon which it was founded; giving thus an indubitable and 
most remarkable testimony to the existence of that disgraceful license by 
which that age was stained. It was a matter of public knowledge, they said, 
that after the conquest of King William, his Norman followers, elated by so 
great a victory, acknowledged no law but their own wicked pleasure, and not 
only despoiled the conquered Saxons of their lands and their goods, but 
invaded the honour of their wives and of their daughters with the most 
unbridled license; and hence it was then common for matrons and maidens of 
noble families to assume the veil, and take shelter in convents, not as 
called thither by the vocation of God, but solely to preserve their honour 
from the unbridled wickedness of man.
Such and so licentious were the times, as announced by the public 
declaration of the assembled clergy, recorded by Eadmer; and we need add 
nothing more to vindicate the probability of the scenes which we have 
detailed, and are about to detail, upon the more apocryphal authority of 
the Wardour MS.


Chapter 24

			I'll woo her as the lion woos his bride.
								-- Douglas.


While the scenes we have described were passing in other parts of the 
castle, the Jewess Rebecca awaited her fate in a distant and sequestered 
turret. Hither she had been led by two of her disguised ravishers, and on 
being thrust into the little cell, she found herself in the presence of an 
old sibyl, who kept murmuring to herself a Saxon rhyme, as if to beat time 
to the revolving dance which her spindle was performing upon the floor. The 
hag raised her head as Rebecca entered, and scowled at the fair Jewess with 
the malignant envy with which old age and ugliness, when united with evil 
conditions, are apt to look upon youth and beauty.
"Thou must up and away, old house-cricket," said one of the men; "our noble 
master commands it - Thou must e'en leave this chamber to a fairer guest."
"Ay," grumbled the hag, "even thus is service requited. I have known when 
my bare word would have cast the best man-at-arms among ye out of saddle 
and out of service; and now must I up and away at the command of every 
groom such as thou."
"Good Dame Urfried," said the other man, "stand not to reason on it, but up 
and away. Lords' hests must be listened to with a quick ear. Thou hast had 
thy day, old dame, but thy sun has long been set. Thou art now the very 
emblem of an old war-horse turned out on the barren heath - thou hast had 
thy paces in thy time, but now a broken amble is the best of them - Come, 
amble off with thee."
"Ill omens dog ye both!" said the old woman; "and a kennel be your burying-
place! May the evil demon Zernebock tear me limb from limb, if I leave my 
own cell ere I have spun out the hemp on my distaff!"
"Answer it to our lord, then, old housefiend," said the man, and retired; 
leaving Rebecca in company with the old woman, upon whose presence she had 
been thus unwillingly forced.
"What devil's deed have they now in the wind?" said the old hag, murmuring 
to herself, yet from time to time casting a sidelong and malignant glance 
at Rebecca; "but it is easy to guess - Bright eyes, black locks, and a skin 
like paper, ere the priest stains it with his black unguent - Ay, it is 
easy to guess why they send her to this lone turret, whence a shriek could 
no more be heard than at the depth of five hundred fathoms beneath the 
earth. - Thou wilt have owls for thy neighbours, fair one; and their 
screams will be heard as far, and as much regarded, as thine own. 
Outlandish, too," she said, marking the dress and turban of Rebecca - "What 
country art thou of? - a Saracen? or an Egyptian? - Why dost not answer? - 
thou canst weep, canst thou not speak?"
"Be not angry, good mother," said Rebecca.
"Thou needst say no more," replied Urfried "men know a fox by the train, 
and a Jewess by her tongue."
"For the sake of mercy," said Rebecca, "tell me what I am to expect as the 
conclusion of the violence which hath dragged me hither! Is it my life they 
seek, to atone for my religion? I will lay it down cheerfully."
"Thy life, minion?" answered the sibyl; "what would taking thy life 
pleasure them? - Trust me, thy life is in no peril. Such usage shalt thou 
have as was once thought good enough for a noble Saxon maiden. And shall a 
Jewess, like thee, repine because she hath no better? Look at me - I was as 
young and twice as fair as thou, when Front-de-Boeuf, father of this 
Reginald, and his Normans, stormed this castle. My father and his seven 
sons defended their inheritance from story to story, from chamber to 
chamber - There was not a room, not a step of the stair, that was not 
slippery with their blood. They died - they died every man; and ere their 
bodies were cold, and ere their blood was dried, I had become the prey and 
the scorn of the conqueror!"
"Is there no help? - Are there no means of escape?" said Rebecca - "Richly, 
richly would I requite thine aid."
"Think not of it," said the hag; "from hence there is no escape but through 
the gates of death; and it is late, late," she added, shaking her grey 
head, "ere these open to us - Yet it is comfort to think that we leave 
behind us on earth those who shall be wretched as ourselves. Fare thee 
well, Jewess! - Jew or Gentile, thy fate would be the same; for thou hast 
to do with them that have neither scruple nor pity. Fare thee well, I say. 
My thread is spun out - thy task is yet to begin."
"Stay! stay! for Heaven's sake!" said Rebecca; "stay, though it be to curse 
and to revile me - thy presence is yet some protection."
"The presence of the mother of God were no protection," answered the old 
woman. "There she stands," pointing to a rude image of the Virgin Mary, 
"see if she can avert the fate that awaits thee."
She left the room as she spoke, her features writhed into a sort of 
sneering laugh, which made them seem even more hideous than their habitual 
frown. She locked the door behind her, and Rebecca might hear her curse 
every step for its steepness, as slowly and with difficulty she descended 
the turret-stair.
Rebecca was now to expect a fate even more dreadful than that of Rowena; 
for what probability was there that either softness or ceremony would be 
used towards one of her oppressed race, whatever shadow of these might be 
preserved towards a Saxon heiress? Yet had the Jewess this advantage, that 
she was better prepared by habits of thought, and by natural strength of 
mind, to encounter the dangers to which she was exposed. Of a strong and 
observing character, even from her earliest years, the pomp and wealth 
which her father displayed within his walls, or which she witnessed in the 
houses of other wealthy Hebrews, had not been able to blind her to the 
precarious circumstances under which they were enjoyed. Like Damocles at 
his celebrated banquet, Rebecca perpetually beheld, amid that gorgeous 
display, the sword which was suspended over the heads of her people by a 
single hair. These reflections had tamed and brought down to a pitch of 
sounder judgement a temper, which, under other circumstances, might have 
waxed haughty, supercilious, and obstinate.
From her father's example and injunctions, Rebecca had learnt to bear 
herself courteously towards all who approached her. She could not indeed 
imitate his excess of subservience, because she was a stranger to the 
meanness of mind, and to the constant state of timid apprehension, by which 
it was dictated; but she bore herself with a proud humility, as if 
submitting to the evil circumstances in which she was placed as the 
daughter of a despised race, while she felt in her mind the consciousness 
that she was entitled to hold a higher rank from her merit, than the 
arbitrary despotism of religious prejudice permitted her to aspire to.
Thus prepared to expect adverse circumstances, she had acquired the 
firmness necessary for acting under them. Her present situation required 
all her presence of mind, and she summoned it up accordingly.
Her first care was to inspect the apartment; but it afforded few hopes 
either of escape or protection. It contained neither secret passage nor 
trap-door, and unless where the door by which she had entered joined the 
main building, seemed to be circumscribed by the round exterior wall of the 
turret. The door had no inside bolt or bar. The single window opened upon 
an embattled space surmounting the turret, which gave Rebecca, at first 
sight, some hopes of escaping; but she soon found it had no communication 
with any other part of the battlements, being an isolated bartizan, or 
balcony, secured, as usual, by a parapet, with embrasures, at which a few 
archers might be stationed for defending the turret, and flanking with 
their shot the wall of the castle on that side.
There was therefore no hope but in passive fortitude, and in that strong 
reliance on Heaven natural to great and generous characters. Rebecca, 
however erroneously taught to interpret the promises of Scripture to the 
chosen people of Heaven, did not err in supposing the present to be their 
hour of trial, or in trusting that the children of Zion would be one day 
called in with the fulness of the Gentiles. In the meanwhile, all around 
her showed that their present state was that of punishment and probation, 
and that it was their especial duty to suffer without sinning. Thus 
prepared to consider herself as the victim of misfortune, Rebecca had early 
reflected upon her own state, and schooled her mind to meet the dangers 
which she had probably to encounter.
The prisoner trembled, however, and changed colour, when a step was heard 
on the stair, and the door of the turret-chamber slowly opened, and a tall 
man, dressed as one of those banditti to whom they owed their misfortune, 
slowly entered, and shut the door behind him; his cap, pulled down upon his 
brows, concealed the upper part of his face, and he held his mantle in such 
a manner as to muffle the rest. In this guise, as if prepared for the 
execution of some deed, at the thought of which he was himself ashamed, he 
stood before the affrighted prisoner; yet, ruffian as his dress bespoke 
him, he seemed at a loss to express what purpose had brought him thither, 
so that Rebecca, making an effort upon herself, had time to anticipate his 
explanation. She had already unclasped two costly bracelets and a collar, 
which she hastened to proffer to the supposed outlaw, concluding naturally 
that to gratify his avarice was to bespeak his favour.
"Take these," she said, "good friend, and for God's sake be merciful to me 
and my aged father! These ornaments are of value, yet are they trifling to 
what he would bestow to obtain our dismissal from this castle, free and 
uninjured."
"Fair flower of Palestine," replied the outlaw, "these pearls are orient, 
but they yield in whiteness to your teeth; the diamonds are brilliant, but 
they cannot match your eyes; and ever since I have taken up this wild 
trade, I have made a vow to prefer beauty to wealth."
"Do not do yourself such wrong," said Rebecca; "take ransom, and have 
mercy! - Gold will purchase you pleasure, - to misuse us, could only bring 
thee remorse. My father will willingly satiate thy utmost wishes; and if 
thou wilt act wisely, thou mayst purchase with our spoils thy restoration 
to civil society - mayst obtain pardon for past errors, and be placed 
beyond the necessity of committing more."
"It is well spoken," replied the outlaw in French, finding it difficult 
probably to sustain, in Saxon, a conversation which Rebecca had opened in 
that language; "but know, bright lily of the vale of Baca! that thy father 
is already in the hands of a powerful alchemist, who knows how to convert 
into gold and silver even the rusty bars of a dungeon grate. The venerable 
Isaac is subjected to an alembic, which will distil from him all he holds 
dear, without any assistance from my requests or thy entreaty. The ransom 
must be paid by love and beauty, and in no other coin will I accept it."
"Thou art no outlaw," said Rebecca, in the same language in which he 
addressed her; "no outlaw had refused such offers. No outlaw in this land 
uses the dialect in which thou hast spoken. Thou art no outlaw, but a 
Norman - a Norman, noble perhaps in birth - O, be so in thy actions, and 
cast off this fearful mask of outrage and violence!"
"And thou, who canst guess so truly," said Brian de Bois-Guilbert, dropping 
the mantle from his face, "art no true daughter of Israel, but in all, save 
youth and beauty, a very witch of Endor. I am not an outlaw, then, fair 
rose of Sharon. And I am one who will be more prompt to hang thy neck and 
arms with pearls and diamonds, which so well become them, than to deprive 
thee of these ornaments."
"What wouldst thou have of me," said Rebecca, "if not my wealth? - We can 
have nought in common between us - you are a Christian - I am a Jewess. - 
Our union were contrary to the laws, alike of the church and the 
synagogue."
"It were so, indeed," replied the Templar, laughing; "wed with a Jewess? 
Despardieux! - Not if she were the Queen of Sheba! And know, besides, sweet 
daughter of Zion, that were the most Christian king to offer me his most 
Christian daughter, with Languedoc for a dowry, I could not wed her. It is 
against my vow to love any maiden, otherwise than par amours, as I will 
love thee. I am a Templar. Behold the cross of my Holy Order."
"Darest thou appeal to it," said Rebecca, "on an occasion like the 
present?"
"And if I do so," said the Templar, "it concerns not thee, who art no 
believer in the blessed sign of our salvation."
"I believe as my fathers taught," said Rebecca; "and may God forgive my 
belief if erroneous! But you, Sir Knight, what is yours, when you appeal 
without scruple to that which you deem most holy, even while you are about 
to transgress the most solemn of your vows as a knight, and as a man of 
religion?"
"It is gravely and well preached, O daughter of Sirach!" answered the 
Templar; "but, gentle Ecclesiastics, thy narrow Jewish prejudices make thee 
blind to our high privilege. Marriage were an enduring crime on the part of 
a Templar; but what lesser folly I may practise, I shall speedily be 
absolved from at the next Perceptory of our Order. Not the wisest of 
monarchs, not his father, whose examples you must needs allow are weighty, 
claimed wider privileges than we poor soldiers of the Temple of Zion have 
won by our zeal in its defence. The protectors of Solomon's Temple may 
claim license by the example of Solomon."
"If thou readest the Scripture," said the Jewess, "and the lives of the 
saints, only to justify thine own license and profligacy, thy crime is like 
that of him who extracts poison from the most healthful and necessary 
herbs."
The eyes of the Templar flashed fire at this reproof - "Hearken," he said, 
"Rebecca; I have hitherto spoken mildly to thee, but now my language shall 
be that of a conqueror. Thou art the captive of my bow and spear - subject 
to my will by the laws of all nations; nor will I abate an inch of my 
right, or abstain from taking by violence what thou refusest to entreaty or 
necessity."
"Stand back," said Rebecca - "stand back, and hear me ere thou offerest to 
commit a sin so deadly! My strength thou mayst indeed overpower for God 
made women weak, and trusted their defence to man's generosity. But I will 
proclaim thy villainy, Templar, from one end of Europe to the other. I will 
owe to the superstition of thy brethren what their compassion might refuse 
me, Each Preceptory - each chapter of thy Order, shall learn, that, like a 
heretic, thou hast sinned with a Jewess. Those who tremble not at thy 
crime, will hold thee accursed for having so far dishonoured the cross thou 
wearest, as to follow a daughter of my people."
"Thou art keen-witted, Jewess," replied the Templar, well aware of the 
truth of what she spoke, and that the rules of his Order condemned in the 
most positive manner, and under high penalties, such intrigues as he now 
prosecuted, and that, in some instances, even degradation had followed upon 
it - "thou art sharp-witted," he said; "but loud must be thy voice of 
complaint, if it is heard beyond the iron walls of this castle; within 
these, murmurs, laments, appeals to justice, and screams for help, die 
alike silent away. One thing only can save thee, Rebecca. Submit to thy 
fate - embrace our religion, and thou shalt go forth in such state, that 
many a Norman lady shall yield as well in pomp as in beauty to the 
favourite of the best lance among the defenders of the Temple."
"Submit to my fate!" said Rebecca - "and, sacred Heaven! to what fate? - 
embrace thy religion! and what religion can it be that harbours such a 
villain? - thou the best lance of the Templars! - Craven knight! - forsworn 
priest! I spit at thee, and I defy thee. - The God of Abraham's promise 
hath opened an escape to his daughter - even from this abyss of infamy!"
As she spoke, she threw open the latticed window which led to the bartisan, 
and in an instant after, stood on the very verge of the parapet, with not 
the slightest screen between her and the tremendous depth below. Unprepared 
for such a desperate effort, for she had hitherto stood perfectly 
motionless, Bois-Guilbert had neither time to intercept nor to stop her. As 
he offered to advance, she exclaimed, "Remain where thou art, proud 
Templar, or at thy choice advance! - one foot nearer, and I plunge myself 
from the precipice; my body shall be crushed out of the very form of 
humanity upon the stones of that court-yard, ere it become the victim of 
thy brutality!"
As she spoke this, she clasped her hands and extended them towards heaven, 
as if imploring mercy on her soul before she made the final plunge. The 
Templar hesitated, and a resolution which had never yielded to pity or 
distress, gave way to his admiration of her fortitude. "Come down," he 
said, "rash girl! - I swear by earth, and sea, and sky, I will offer thee 
no offence."
"I will not trust thee, Templar," said Rebecca; thou hast taught me better 
how to estimate the virtues of thine Order. The next Preceptory would grant 
thee absolution for an oath, the keeping of which concerned nought but the 
honour or the dishonour of a miserable Jewish maiden."
"You do me injustice," exclaimed the Templar fervently; "I swear to you by 
the name which I bear - by the cross on my bosom - by the sword on my side 
- by the ancient crest of my fathers do I swear, I will do thee no injury 
whatsoever! If not for thyself, yet for thy father's sake forbear! I will 
be his friend, and in this castle he will need a powerful one."
"Alas!" said Rebecca, "I know it but too well - dare I trust thee?"
"May my arms be reversed, and my name dishonoured," said Brian de Bois-
Guilbert, "if thou shalt have reason to complain of me! Many a law, many a 
commandment have I broken, but my word never."
"I will then trust thee," said Rebecca, "thus far;" and she descended from 
the verge of the battlement, but remained standing close by one of the 
embrasures, or machicolles, as they were then called. - "Here," she said, 
"I take my stand. Remain where thou art, and if thou shalt attempt to 
diminish by one step the distance now between us, thou shalt see that the 
Jewish maiden will rather trust her soul with God, than her honour to the 
Templar!"
While Rebecca spoke thus, her high and firm resolve, which corresponded so 
well with the expressive beauty of her countenance, gave to her looks, air, 
and manner, a dignity that seemed more than mortal. Her glance quailed not, 
her cheek blanched not, for the fear of a fate so instant and so horrible; 
on the contrary, the thought that she had her fate at her command, and 
could escape at will from infamy to death, gave a yet deeper colour of 
carnation to her complexion, and a yet more brilliant fire to her eye. Bois-
Guilbert, proud himself and high-spirited, thought he had never beheld 
beauty so animated and so commanding.
"Let there be peace between us, Rebecca," he said.
"Peace, if thou wilt," answered Rebecca - "Peace - but with this space 
between."
"Thou needst no longer fear me," said Bois-Guilbert.
"I fear thee not," replied she; "thanks to him that reared this dizzy tower 
so high, that nought could fall from it and live - thanks to him, and to 
the God of Israel! - I fear thee not."
"Thou dost me injustice," said the Templar; "by earth, sea, and sky, thou 
dost me injustice! I am not naturally that which you have seen me, hard, 
selfish, and relentless. It was woman that taught me cruelty, and on woman 
therefore I have exercised it; but not upon such as thou. Hear me, Rebecca 
- Never did knight take lance in his hand with a heart more devoted to the 
lady of his love than Brian de Bois-Guilbert. She, the daughter of a petty 
baron, who boasted for all his domains but a ruinous tower, and an 
unproductive vineyard, and some few leagues of the barren Landes of 
Bourdeaux, her name was known wherever deeds of arms were done, known wider 
than that of many a lady's that had a county for a dowry. - Yes," he 
continued, pacing up and down the little platform, with an animation in 
which he seemed to lose all consciousness of Rebecca's presence - "Yes, my 
deeds, my danger, my blood, made the name of Adelaide de Montemare known 
from the court of Castile to that of Byzantium. And how was I requited? - 
When I returned with my dear-bought honours, purchased by toil and blood, I 
found her wedded to a Gascon squire, whose name was never heard beyond the 
limits of his own paltry domain! Truly did I love her, and bitterly did I 
revenge me of her broken faith! But my vengeance has recoiled on myself. 
Since that day I have separated myself from life and its ties - My manhood 
must know no domestic home - must be soothed by no affectionate wife - My 
age must know no kindly hearth - My grave must be solitary, and no 
offspring must outlive me, to bear the ancient name of Bois-Guilbert. At 
the feet of my Superior I have laid down the right of self-action - the 
privilege of independence. The Templar, a serf in all but the name, can 
possess neither lands nor goods, and lives, moves, and breathes, but at the 
will and pleasure of another."
"Alas!" said Rebecca, "what advantages could compensate for such an 
absolute sacrifice?"
"The power of vengeance, Rebecca," replied the Templar, "and the prospects 
of ambition."
"An evil recompense," said Rebecca, "for the surrender of the rights which 
are dearest to humanity."
"Say not so, maiden," answered the Templar; "revenge is a feast for the 
gods! And if they have reserved it, as priests tell us, to themselves, it 
is because they hold it an enjoyment too precious for the possession of 
mere mortals. - And ambition? it is a temptation which could disturb even 
the bliss of heaven itself." - He paused a moment, and then added, 
"Rebecca! she who could prefer death to dishonour, must have a proud and a 
powerful soul. Mine thou must be! - Nay, start not," he added, "it must be 
with thine own consent, and on thine own terms. Thou must consent to share 
with me hopes more extended than can be viewed from the throne of a 
monarch! - Hear me ere you answer and judge ere you refuse. - The Templar 
loses, as thou hast said, his social rights, his power of free agency, but 
he becomes a member and a limb of a mighty body, before which thrones 
already tremble, - even as the single drop of rain which mixes with the sea 
becomes an individual part of that resistless ocean, which undermines rocks 
and engulfs royal armadas. Such a swelling flood is that powerful league. 
Of this mighty Order I am no mean member, but already one of the Chief 
Commanders, and may well aspire one day to hold the baton of Grand Master. 
The poor soldiers of the Temple will not alone place their foot upon the 
necks of kings - a hemp-sandalled monk can do that. Our mailed step shall 
ascend their throne - our gauntlet shall wrench the sceptre from their 
gripe. Not the reign of your vainly-expected Messiah offers such power to 
your dispersed tribes as my ambition may aim at. I have sought but a 
kindred spirit to share it, and I have found such in thee."
"Sayest thou this to one of my people?" answered Rebecca. "Bethink thee - "
"Answer me not," said the Templar, "by urging the difference of our creeds; 
within our secret conclaves we hold these nursery tales in derision. Think 
not we long remained blind to the idiotical folly of our founders, who 
forswore every delight of life for the pleasure of dying martyrs by hunger, 
by thirst, and by pestilence, and by the swords of savages, while they 
vainly strove to defend a barren desert, valuable only in the eyes of 
superstition. Our Order soon adopted bolder and wider views, and found out 
a better indemnification for our sacrifices. Our immense possessions in 
every kingdom of Europe, our high military fame, which brings within our 
circle the flower of chivalry from every Christian clime - these are 
dedicated to ends of which our pious founders little dreamed, and which are 
equally concealed from such weak spirits as embrace our Order on the 
ancient principles, and whose superstition makes them our passive tools. 
But I will not further withdraw the veil of our mysteries. That bugle-sound 
announces something which may require my presence. Think on what I have 
said. - Farewell! - I do not say forgive me the violence I have threatened, 
for it was necessary to the display of thy character. Gold can be only 
known by the application of the touchstone. I will soon return, and hold 
further conference with thee."
He re-entered the turret-chamber, and descended the stair, leaving Rebecca 
scarcely more terrified at the prospect of the death to which she had been 
so lately exposed, than at the furious ambition of the bold bad man in 
whose power she found herself so unhappily placed. When she entered the 
turret-chamber, her first duty was to return thanks to the God of Jacob for 
the protection which he had afforded her, and to implore its continuance 
for her and for her father. Another name glided into her petition - it was 
that of the wounded Christian, whom fate had placed in the hands of 
bloodthirsty men, his avowed enemies. Her heart indeed checked her, as if, 
even in communing with the Deity in prayer, she mingled in her devotions 
the recollection of one with whose fate hers could have no alliance - a 
Nazarene, and an enemy to her faith. But the petition was already breathed, 
nor could all the narrow prejudices of her sect induce Rebecca to wish it 
recalled.


Chapter 25

A damn'd cramp piece of penmanship as ever I saw in my life!
							-- She Stoops to Conquer.


When the Templar reached the hall of the castle, he found De Bracy already 
there. "Your love-suit," said De Bracy, "hath, I suppose, been disturbed, 
like mine, by this obstreperous summons. But you have come later and more 
reluctantly, and therefore I presume your interview has proved more 
agreeable than mine."
"Has your suit, then, been unsuccessfully paid to the Saxon heiress?" said 
the Templar.
"By the bones of Thomas a Becket," answered De Bracy, "the Lady Rowena must 
have heard that I cannot endure the sight of women's tears."
"Away!" said the Templar; "thou a leader of a Free Company, and regard a 
woman's tears! A few drops sprinkled on the torch of love, make the flame 
blaze the brighter."
"Gramercy for the few drops of thy sprinkling," replied De Bracy; "but this 
damsel hath wept enough to extinguish a beacon-light. Never was such 
wringing of hands and such overflowing of eyes, since the days of St Niobe, 
of whom Prior Aymer told us. A water-fiend hath possessed the fair Saxon."
"A legion of fiends have occupied the bosom of the Jewess," replied the 
Templar; "for, I think no single one, not even Apollyon himself, could have 
inspired such indomitable pride and resolution. - But where is Front-de-
Boeuf? That horn is sounded more and more clamorously."
"He is negotiating with the Jew, I suppose," replied De Bracy, coolly; 
"probably the howls of Isaac have drowned the blast of the bugle. Thou 
mayst know, by experience, Sir Brian, that a Jew parting with his treasures 
on such terms as our friend Front-de-Boeuf is like to offer, will raise a 
clamour loud enough to be heard over twenty horns and trumpets to boot. But 
we will make the vassals call him."
They were soon after joined by Front-de-Boeuf, who had been disturbed in 
his tyrannic cruelty in the manner with which the reader is acquainted, and 
had only tarried to give some necessary directions.
"Let us see the cause of this cursed clamour," said Front-de-Boeuf - "here 
is a letter, and, if I mistake not, it is in Saxon."
He looked at it, turning it round and round as if he had had really some 
hopes of coming at the meaning by inverting the position of the paper, and 
then handed it to De Bracy.
"It may be magic spells for aught I know," said De Bracy, who possessed his 
full proportion of the ignorance which characterised the chivalry of the 
period. "Our chaplain attempted to teach me to write," he said, "but all my 
letters were formed like spear-heads and sword-blades, and so the old 
shaveling gave up the task."
"Give it me," said the Templar. "We have that of the priestly character, 
that we have some knowledge to enlighten our valour."
"Let us profit by your most reverend knowledge, then," said De Bracy; "what 
says the scroll?"
"It is a formal letter of defiance," answered the Templar; "but, by our 
Lady of Bethlehem, if it be not a foolish jest, it is the most 
extraordinary cartel that ever was sent across the drawbridge of a baronial 
castle."
"Jest!" said Front-de-Boeuf, "I would gladly know who dares jest with me in 
such a matter! - Read it, Sir Brian."
The Templar accordingly read it as follows: -
"I, Wamba, the son of Witless, Jester to a noble and free-born man, Cedric 
of Rotherwood, called the Saxon, - And I, Gurth, the son of Beowulph, the 
swineherd - "
"Thou art mad," said Front-de-Boeuf, interrupting the reader.
"By St Luke, it is so set down," answered the Templar. Then resuming his 
task, he went on, - "I, Gurth, the son of Beowulph, swineherd unto the said 
Cedric, with the assistance of our allies and confederates, who make common 
cause with us in this our feud, namely, the good knight, called for the 
present Le Noir Faineant, and the stout yeoman, Robert Locksley, called 
Cleave-the-wand, Do you, Reginald Front de-Boeuf, and your allies and 
accomplices whomsoever, to wit, that whereas you have, without cause given 
or feud declared, wrongfully and by mastery seized upon the person of our 
lord and master the said Cedric; also upon the person of a noble and 
freeborn damsel, the Lady Rowena of Hargottstandstede; also upon the person 
of a noble and freeborn man, Athelstane of Coningsburgh; also upon the 
persons of certain freeborn men, their cnichts; also upon certain serfs, 
their born bondsmen; also upon a certain Jew, named Isaac of York, together 
with his daughter, a Jewess, and certain horses and mules: Which noble 
persons, with their cnichts and slaves, and also with the horses and mules, 
Jew and Jewess beforesaid, were all in peace with his majesty, and 
travelling as liege subjects upon the king's highway; therefore we require 
and demand that the said noble persons, namely, Cedric of Rotherwood, 
Rowena of Hargottstandstede, Athelstane of Coningsburgh, with their 
servants, cnichts, and followers, also the horses and mules, Jew and Jewess 
aforesaid, together with all goods and chattels to them pertaining, be, 
within an hour after the delivery hereof, delivered to us, or to those whom 
we shall appoint to receive the same, and that untouched and unharmed in 
body and goods. Failing of which, we do pronounce to you, that we hold ye 
as robbers and traitors, and will wager our bodies against ye in battle, 
siege, or otherwise, and do our utmost to your annoyance and destruction. 
Wherefore may God have you in his keeping. - Signed by us upon the eve of 
St Withold's day, under the great trysting oak in the Hart-hill Walk, the 
above being written by a holy man, Clerk to God, our Lady, and St Dunstan, 
in the Chapel of Copmanhurst."
At the bottom of this document was scrawled, in the first place, a rude 
sketch of a cock's head and comb, with a legend expressing this 
hieroglyphic to be the sign-manual of Wamba, son of Witless. Under this 
respectable emblem stood a cross, stated to be the mark of Gurth, the son 
of Beowulph. Then was written, in rough bold characters, the words, Le Noir 
Faineant. And, to conclude the whole, an arrow, neatly enough drawn, was 
described as the mark of the yeoman Locksley.
The knights heard this uncommon document read from end to end, and then 
gazed upon each other in silent amazement, as being utterly at a loss to 
know what it could portend. De Bracy was the first to break silence by an 
uncontrollable fit of laughter, wherein he was joined, though with more 
moderation, by the Templar. Front-de-Boeuf, on the contrary, seemed 
impatient of their ill-timed jocularity.
"I give you plain warning," he said, "fair sirs, that you had better 
consult how to bear yourselves under these circumstances, than give way to 
such misplaced merriment."
"Front-de-Boeuf has not recovered his temper since his late overthrow," 
said De Bracy to the Templar; "he is cowed at the very idea of a cartel, 
though it come but from a fool and a swineherd."
"By St Michael," answered Front-de-Boeuf, "I would thou couldst stand the 
whole brunt of this adventure thyself, De Bracy. These fellows dared not 
have acted with such inconceivable impudence, had they not been supported 
by some strong bands. There are enough of outlaws in this forest to resent 
my protecting the deer. I did but tie one fellow, who was taken red-handed 
and in the fact, to the horns of a wild stag, which gored him to death in 
five minutes, and I had as many arrows shot at me as there were launched 
against yonder target at Ashby. - Here, fellow," he added, to one of his 
attendants, "hast thou sent out to see by what force this precious 
challenge is to be supported?"
"There are at least two hundred men assembled in the woods," answered a 
squire who was in attendance.
"Here is a proper matter!" said Front-de-Boeuf, "this comes of lending you 
the use of my castle, that cannot manage your undertaking quietly, but you 
must bring this nest of hornets about my ears!"
"Of hornets?" said De Bracy; "of stingless drones rather; a band of lazy 
knaves, who take to the wood, and destroy the venison rather than labour 
for their maintenance."
"Stingless!" replied Front-de-Boeuf; "fork-headed shafts of a cloth-yard in 
length, and these shot within the breadth of a French crown, are sting 
enough."
"For shame, Sir Knight!" said the Templar. "Let us summon our people, and 
sally forth upon them. One knight - ay, one man-at-arms, were enough for 
twenty such peasants."
"Enough, and too much," said De Bracy; "I should only be ashamed to couch 
lance against them."
"True," answered Front-de-Boeuf; "were they black Turks or Moors, Sir 
Templar, or the craven peasants of France, most valiant De Bracy; but these 
are English yeomen, over whom we shall have no advantage, save what we may 
derive from our arms and horses, which will avail us little in the glades 
of the forest. Sally, said'st thou? we have scarce men enough to defend the 
castle. The best of mine are at York; so is all your band, De Bracy; and we 
have scarcely twenty, besides the handful that were engaged in this mad 
business."
"Thou dost not fear," said the Templar, "that they can assemble in force 
sufficient to attempt the castle?"
"Not so, Sir Brian," answered Front-de-Boeuf. "These outlaws have indeed a 
daring captain; but without machines, scaling ladders, and experienced 
leaders, my castle may defy them."
"Send to thy neighbours," said the Templar, "let them assemble their 
people, and come to the rescue of three knights, besieged by a jester and a 
swineherd in the baronial castle of Reginald Front-de-Boeuf!"
"You jest, Sir Knight," answered the baron; "but to whom should I send? - 
Malvoisin is by this time at York with his retainers, and so are my other 
allies; and so should I have been, but for this infernal enterprise."
"Then send to York, and recall our people," said De Bracy. "If they abide 
the shaking of my standard, or the sight of my Free Companions, I will give 
them credit for the boldest outlaws ever bent bow in green-wood."
"And who shall bear such a message?" said Front-de-Boeuf; "they will beset 
every path, and rip the errand out of his bosom. - I have it," he added, 
after pausing for a moment - "Sir Templar, thou canst write as well as 
read, and if we can but find the writing materials of my chaplain, who died 
a twelvemonth since in the midst of his Christmas carousals - "
"So please ye," said the squire, who was still in attendance, "I think old 
Urfried has them somewhere in keeping, for love of the confessor. He was 
the last man, I have heard her tell, who ever said aught to her, which man 
ought in courtesy to address to maid or matron."
"Go, search them out, Engelred," said Front-de-Boeuf; "and then, Sir 
Templar, thou shalt return an answer to this bold challenge."
"I would rather do it at the sword's point than at that of the pen," said 
Bois-Guilbert; "but be it as you will."
He sat down accordingly, and indited, in the French language, an epistle of 
the following tenor: -
"Sir Reginald Front-de-Boeuf, with his noble and knightly allies and 
confederates, receive no defiances at the bands of slaves, bondsmen, or 
fugitives. If the person calling himself the Black Knight have indeed a 
claim to the honours of chivalry, he ought to know that he stands degraded 
by his present association, and has no right to ask reckoning at the hands 
of good men of noble blood. Touching the prisoners we have made, we do in 
Christian charity require you to send a man of religion, to receive their 
confession, and reconcile them with God; since it is our fixed intention to 
execute them this morning before noon, so that their heads being placed on 
the battlements, shall show to all men how lightly we esteem those who have 
bestirred themselves in their rescue. Wherefore, as above, we require you 
to send a priest to reconcile them to God, in doing which you shall render 
them the last earthly service."
This letter being folded, was delivered to the squire, and by him to the 
messenger who waited without, as the answer to that which be had brought.
The yeoman having thus accomplished his mission, returned to the head-
quarters of the allies, which were for the present established under a 
venerable oak-tree, about three arrow-flights distant from the castle. Here 
Wamba and Gurth, with their allies the Black Knight and Locksley, and the 
jovial hermit, awaited with impatience an answer to their summons. Around, 
and at a distance from them, were seen many a bold yeoman, whose silvan 
dress and weather-beaten countenances showed the ordinary nature of their 
occupation. More than two hundred had already assembled, and others were 
fast coming in. Those whom they obeyed as leaders were only distinguished 
from the others by a feather in the cap, their dress, arms, and equipments 
being in all other respects the same.
Besides these bands, a less orderly and a worse armed force, consisting of 
the Saxon inhabitants of the neighbouring township, as well as many 
bondsmen and servants from Cedric's extensive estate, had already arrived, 
for the purpose of assisting in his rescue. Few of these were armed 
otherwise than with such rustic weapons as necessity sometimes converts to 
military purposes. Boar-spears, scythes, flails, and the like, were their 
chief arms; for the Normans, with the usual policy of conquerors, were 
jealous of permitting to the vanquished Saxons the possession or the use of 
swords and spears. These circumstances rendered the assistance of the 
Saxons far from being so formidable to the besieged, as the strength of the 
men themselves, their superior numbers, and the animation inspired by a 
just cause, might otherwise well have made them. It was to the leaders of 
this motley army that the letter of the Templar was now delivered.
Reference was at first made to the chaplain for an exposition of its 
contents.
"By the crook of St Dunstan," said that worthy ecclesiastic, "which hath 
brought more sheep within the sheepfold than the crook of e'er another 
saint in Paradise, I swear that I cannot expound unto you this jargon, 
which, whether it be French or Arabic, is beyond my guess."
He then gave the letter to Gurth, who shook his head gruffly, and passed it 
to Wamba. The Jester looked at each of the four corners of the paper with 
such a grin of affected intelligence as a monkey is apt to assume upon 
similar occasions, then cut a caper, and gave the letter to Locksley.
"If the long letters were bows, and the short letters broad arrows, I might 
know something of the matter," said the brave yeoman; "but as the matter 
stands, the meaning is as safe, for me, as the stag that's at twelve miles 
distance."
"I must be clerk, then," said the Black Knight; and taking the letter from 
Locksley, he first read it over to himself, and then explained the meaning 
in Saxon to his confederates.
"Execute the noble Cedric!" exclaimed Wamba; "by the rood, thou must be 
mistaken, Sir Knight."
"Not I, my worthy friend," replied the knight, "I have explained the words 
as they are here set down."
"Then, by St Thomas of Canterbury," replied Gurth, "we will have the 
castle, should we tear it down with our hands!"
"We have nothing else to tear it with," replied Wamba; "but mine are scarce 
fit to make mammocks of freestone and mortar."
"'Tis but a contrivance to gain time," said Locksley; "they dare not do a 
deed for which I could exact a fearful penalty."
"I would," said the Black Knight, "there were some one among us who could 
obtain admission into the castle, and discover how the case stands with the 
besieged. Methinks, as they require a confessor to be sent, this holy 
hermit might at once exercise his pious vocation, and procure us the 
information we desire."
"A plague on thee, and thy advice!" said the pious hermit; "I tell thee, 
Sir Slothful Knight, that when I doff my friar's frock, my priesthood, my 
sanctity, my very Latin, are put off along with it; and when in my green 
jerkin, I can better kill twenty deer than confess one Christian."
"I fear," said the Black Knight, "I fear greatly, there is no one here that 
is qualified to take upon him, for the nonce, this same character of father 
confessor?"
All looked on each other, and were silent.
"I see," said Wamba, after a short pause, "that the fool must be still the 
fool, and put his neck in the venture which wise men shrink from. You must 
know, my dear cousins and countrymen, that I more russet before I wore 
motley, and was bred to be a friar, until a brain-fever came upon me and 
left me just wit enough to be a fool. I trust, with the assistance of the 
good hermit's frock, together with the priesthood, sanctity, and learning 
which are stitched into the cowl of it, I shall be found qualified to 
administer both worldly and ghostly comfort to our worthy master Cedric, 
and his companions in adversity."
"Hath he sense enough, thinkst thou?" said the Black Knight, addressing 
Gurth.
"I know not," said Gurth; "but if he hath not, it will be the first time he 
hath wanted wit to turn his folly to account."
"On with the frock, then, good fellow," quoth the Knight, "and let thy 
master send us an account of their situation within the castle. Their 
numbers must be few, and it is five to one they may be accessible by a 
sudden and bold attack. Time wears - away with thee."
"And, in the meantime," said Locksley, "we will beset the place so closely, 
that not so much as a fly shall carry news from thence. So that, my good 
friend," he continued, addressing Wamba, "thou mayst assure these tyrants, 
that whatever violence they exercise on the persons of their prisoners, 
shall be most severely repaid upon their own."
"Pax vobiscum," said Wamba, who was now muffled in his religious disguise.
And so saying he imitated the solemn and stately deportment of a friar, and 
departed to execute his mission.


Chapter 26

			The hottest horse will oft be cool,
				The dullest will show fire;
			The friar will often play the fool,
				The fool will play the friar.
							-- Old Song.


When the Jester, arrayed in the cowl and frock of the hermit, and having 
his knotted cord twisted round his middle, stood before the portal of the 
castle of Front-de-Boeuf, the warder demanded of him his name and errand.
"Pax vobiscum," answered the Jester, "I am a poor brother of the Order of 
St Francis, who come hither to do my office to certain unhappy prisoners 
now secured within this castle."
"Thou art a bold friar," said the warder, "to come hither, where, saving 
our own drunken confessor, a cock of thy feather hath not crowed these 
twenty years."
"Yet I pray thee, do mine errand to the lord of the castle," answered the 
pretended friar; "trust me it will find good acceptance with him, and the 
cock shall crow, that the whole castle shall hear him."
"Gramercy," said the warder; "but if I come to shame for leaving my post 
upon thine errand, I will try whether a friar's grey gown be proof against 
a grey-goose shaft."
With this threat he left his turret, and carried to the hall of the castle 
his unwonted intelligence, that a holy friar stood before the gate and 
demanded instant admission. With no small wonder he received his master's 
commands to admit the holy man immediately; and, having previously manned 
the entrance to guard against surprise, he obeyed, without further scruple, 
the commands which he had received. The harebrained self-conceit which had 
emboldened Wamba to undertake this dangerous office, was scarce sufficient 
to support him when he found himself in the presence of a man so dreadful, 
and so much dreaded, as Reginald Front-de-Boeuf, and he brought out his pax 
vobiscum, to which he, in a good measure, trusted for supporting his 
character, with more anxiety and hesitation than had hitherto accompanied 
it. But Front-de-Boeuf was accustomed to see men of all ranks tremble in 
his presence, so that the timidity of the supposed father did not give him 
any cause of suspicion.
"Who and whence art thou, priest?" said he.
"Pax vobiscum," reiterated the Jester, "I am a poor servant of St Francis, 
who, travelling through this wilderness, have fallen among thieves, (as 
Scripture hath it,) quidam viator incidit in latrones, which thieves have 
sent me unto this castle in order to do my ghostly office on two persons 
condemned by your honourable justice."
"Ay, right," answered Front-de-Boeuf; "and canst thou tell me, holy father, 
the number of those banditti?"
"Gallant sir," answered the Jester, "nomen illis legio, their name is 
legion."
"Tell me in plain terms what numbers there are, or, priest, thy cloak and 
cord will ill protect thee."
"Alas!" said the supposed friar, "cor meum eructavit, that is to say, I was 
like to burst with fear! but I conceive they may be - what of yeomen - what 
of commons, at least five hundred men."
"What!" said the Templar, who came into the hall that moment, "muster the 
wasps so thick here? it is time to stifle such a mischievous brood." Then 
taking Front-de-Boeuf aside "Knowest thou the priest?"
"He is a stranger from a distant convent," I said Front-de-Boeuf; "I know 
him not."
"Then trust him not with thy purpose in words," answered the Templar. "Let 
him carry a written order to De Bracy's company of Free Companions, to 
repair instantly to their master's aid. In the meantime, and that the 
shaveling may suspect nothing, permit him to go freely about his task of 
preparing these Saxon hogs for the slaughter-house."
"It shall be so," said Front-de-Boeuf. And he forthwith appointed a 
domestic to conduct Wamba to the apartment where Cedric and Athelstane were 
confined.
The impatience of Cedric had been rather enhanced than diminished by his 
confinement. He walked from one end of the hall to the other, with the 
attitude of one who advances to charge an enemy, or to storm the breach of 
a beleaguered place, sometimes ejaculating to himself, sometimes addressing 
Athelstane, who stoutly and stoically awaited the issue of the adventure, 
digesting, in the meantime, with great composure, the liberal meal which he 
had made at noon, and not greatly interesting himself about the duration of 
his captivity, which he concluded, would, like all earthly evils, find an 
end in Heaven's good time.
"Pax vobiscum," said the Jester, entering the apartment; "the blessing of 
St Dunstan, St Dennis, St Duthoc, and all other saints whatsoever, be upon 
ye and about ye."
"Enter freely," answered Cedric to the supposed friar; "with what intent 
art thou come hither?"
"To bid you prepare yourselves for death," answered the Jester.
"It is impossible!" replied Cedric, starting. "Fearless and wicked as they 
are, they dare not attempt such open and gratuitous cruelty!"
"Alas!" said the Jester, "to restrain them by their sense of humanity, is 
the same as to stop a runaway horse with a bridle of silk thread. Bethink 
thee, therefore, noble Cedric, and you also, gallant Athelstane, what 
crimes you have committed in the flesh; for this very day will ye be called 
to answer at a higher tribunal."
"Hearest thou this, Athelstane?" said Cedric; "we must rouse up our hearts 
to this last action, since better it is we should die like men, than live 
like slaves."
"I am ready," answered Athelstane, "to stand the worst of their malice, and 
shall walk to my death with as much composure as ever I did to my dinner."
"Let us then unto our holy gear, father," said Cedric.
"Wait yet a moment, good uncle," said the Jester, in his natural tone; 
"better look long before you leap in the dark."
"By my faith," said Cedric, "I should know that voice!"
"It is that of your trusty slave and jester," answered Wamba, throwing back 
his cowl. "Had you taken a fool's advice formerly, you would not have been 
here at all. Take a fool's advice now, and you will not be here long."
"How mean'st thou, knave?" answered the Saxon.
"Even thus," replied Wamba; "take thou this frock and cord, which are all 
the orders I ever had, and march quietly out of the castle, leaving me your 
cloak and girdle to take the long leap in thy stead."
"Leave thee in my stead!" said Cedric, astonished at the proposal; "why, 
they would hang thee, my poor knave."
"E'en let them do as they are permitted," said Wamba; "I trust - no 
disparagement to your birth - that the son of Witless may hang in a chain 
with as much gravity as the chain hung upon his ancestor the alderman."
"Well, Wamba," answered Cedric, "for one thing will I grant thy request. 
And that is, if thou wilt make the exchange of garments with Lord 
Athelstane instead of me."
"No, by St Dunstan," answered Wamba; "there were little reason in that. 
Good right there is, that the son of Witless should suffer to save the son 
of Hereward; but little wisdom there were in his dying for the benefit of 
one whose fathers were strangers to his."
"Villain," said Cedric, "the fathers of Athelstane were monarchs of 
England!"
"They might be whomsoever they pleased," replied Wamba; "but my neck stands 
too straight upon my shoulders to have it twisted for their sake. 
Wherefore, good my master, either take my proffer yourself, or suffer me to 
leave this dungeon as free as I entered."
"Let the old tree wither," continued Cedric, "so the stately hope of the 
forest be preserved. Save the noble Athelstane, my trusty Wamba! it is the 
duty of each who has Saxon blood in his veins. Thou and I will abide 
together the utmost rage of our injurious oppressors, while he, free and 
safe, shall arouse the awakened spirits of our countrymen to avenge us."
"Not so, father Cedric," said Athelstane, grasping his hand, - for, when 
roused to think or act, his deeds and sentiments were not unbecoming his 
high race - "Not so," he continued; "I would rather remain in this hall a 
week without food save the prisoner's stinted loaf, or drink save the 
prisoner's measure of water, than embrace the opportunity to escape which 
the slave's untaught kindness has purveyed for his master."
"You are called wise men, sirs," said the Jester, "and I a crazed fool; 
but, uncle Cedric, and cousin Athelstane, the fool shall decide this 
controversy for ye, and save ye the trouble of straining courtesies any 
farther. I am like John-a-Duck's mare, that will let no man mount her but 
John-a-Duck. I came to save my master, and if he will not consent - basta. 
I can but go away home again. Kind service cannot be chucked from hand to 
hand like a shuttlecock or stool-ball. I'll hang for no man but my own born 
master."
"Go, then, noble Cedric," said Athelstane, "neglect not this opportunity. 
Your presence without may encourage friends to our rescue - your remaining 
here would ruin us all."
"And is there any prospect, then, of rescue from without?" said Cedric, 
looking to the Jester.
"Prospect, indeed!" echoed Wamba; "let me tell you, when you fill my cloak, 
you are wrapped in a general's cassock. Five hundred men are there without, 
and I was this morning one of the chief leaders. My fool's cap was a 
casque, and my bauble a truncheon. Well, we shall see what good they will 
make by exchanging a fool for a wise man. Truly, I fear they will lose in 
valour what they may gain in discretion. And so farewell, master, and be 
kind to poor Gurth and his dog Fangs; and let my cockscomb hang in the hall 
at Rotherwood, in memory that I flung away my life for my master, like a 
faithful - fool."
The last word came out with a sort of double expression, betwixt jest and 
earnest. The tears stood in Cedric's eyes.
"Thy memory shall be preserved," he said, "while fidelity and affection 
have honour upon earth! But that I trust I shall find the means of saving 
Rowena, and thee, Athelstane, and thee, also, my poor Wamba, thou shouldst 
not overbear me in this matter."
The exchange of dress was now accomplished, when a sudden doubt struck 
Cedric.
"I know no language," he said, "but my own, and a few words of their 
mincing Norman. How shall I bear myself like a reverend brother?"
"The spell lies in two words," replied Wamba - "Pax vobiscum will answer 
all queries. If you go or come, eat or drink, bless or ban, Pax vobiscum 
carries you through it all. It is as useful to a friar as a broomstick to a 
witch, or a wand to a conjurer. Speak it but thus, in a deep grave tone, - 
Pax vobiscum! - it is irresistible - Watch and ward, knight and squire, 
foot and horse, it acts as a charm upon them all. I think, if they bring me 
out to be hanged to-morrow, as is much to be doubted they may, I will try 
its weight upon the finisher of the sentence."
"If such prove the case," said the master, "my religious orders are soon 
taken - Pax vobiscum. I trust I shall remember the pass-word. - Noble 
Athelstane, farewell; and farewell, my poor boy, whose heart might make 
amends for a weaker head - I will save you, or return and die with you. The 
royal blood of our Saxon kings shall not be spilt while mine beats in my 
veins; nor shall one hair fall from the head of the kind knave who risked 
himself for his master, if Cedric's peril can prevent it. - Farewell."
"Farewell, noble Cedric," said Athelstane; "remember it is the true part of 
a friar to accept refreshment, if you are offered any."
"Farewell, uncle," added Wamba; "and remember Pax vobiscum."
Thus exhorted, Cedric sallied forth upon his expedition; and it was not 
long ere he had occasion to try the force of that spell which his Jester 
had recommended as omnipotent. In a low-arched and dusky passage, by which 
he endeavoured to work his way to the hall of the castle, he was 
interrupted by a female form.
"Pax vobiscum!" said the pseudo friar, and was endeavouring to hurry past, 
when a soft voice replied, "Et vobis - quaeso, domine reverendissime, pro 
misericordia vestra."
"I am somewhat deaf," replied Cedric, in good Saxon, and at the same time 
muttered to himself, "A curse on the fool and his Pax vobiscum! I have lost 
my javelin at the first cast."
It was, however, no unusual thing for a priest of those days to be deaf of 
his Latin ear, and this the person who now addressed Cedric knew full well.
"I pray you of dear love, reverend father," she replied in his own 
language, "that you will deign to visit with your ghostly comfort a wounded 
prisoner of this castle, and have such compassion upon him and us as thy 
holy office teaches - Never shall good deed so highly advantage thy 
convent."
"Daughter," answered Cedric, much embarrassed, "my time in this castle will 
not permit me to exercise the duties of mine office - I must presently 
forth - there is life and death upon my speed."
"Yet, father, let me entreat you by the vow you have taken on you," replied 
the suppliant, "not to leave the oppressed and endangered without counsel 
or succour."
"May the fiend fly away with me, and leave me in Ifrin with the souls of 
Odin and of Thor!" answered Cedric impatiently, and would probably have 
proceeded in the same tone of total departure from his spiritual character, 
when the colloquy was interrupted by the harsh voice of Urfried, the old 
crone of the turret.
"How, minion," said she to the female speaker, "is this the manner in which 
you requite the kindness which permitted thee to leave thy prison-cell 
yonder? - Puttest thou the reverend man to use ungracious language to free 
himself from the importunities of a Jewess?"
"A Jewess!" said Cedric, availing himself of the information to get clear 
of their interruption, - "Let me pass, woman! stop me not at your peril. I 
am fresh from my holy office, and would avoid pollution."
"Come this way, father," said the old hag, "thou art a stranger in this 
castle, and canst not leave it without a guide. Come hither, for I would 
speak with thee. - And you, daughter of an accursed race, go to the sick 
man's chamber, and tend him until my return; and woe betide you if you 
again quit it without my permission!"
Rebecca retreated. Her importunities had prevailed upon Urfried to suffer 
her to quit the turret, and Urfried had employed her services where she 
herself would most gladly have paid them, by the bedside of the wounded 
Ivanhoe. With an understanding awake to their dangerous situation, and 
prompt to avail herself of each means of safety which occurred, Rebecca had 
hoped something from the presence of a man of religion, who, she learned 
from Urfried, had penetrated into this godless castle. She watched the 
return of the supposed ecclesiastic, with the purpose of addressing him, 
and interesting him in favour of the prisoners; with what imperfect success 
the reader has been just acquainted.


Chapter 27

			Fond wretch! and what canst thou relate,
				But deeds of sorrow, shame, and sin?
			Thy deeds are proved - thou know'st thy fate -
				But come, thy tale - begin - begin.

.........

			But I have griefs of other kind,
				Troubles and sorrows more severe;
			Give me to ease my tortured mind,
				Lend to my woes a patient ear;
			And let me, if I may not find
			A friend to help - find one to hear.
						-- Crabbe's Hall of Justice.

When Urfried had with clamours and menaces driven Rebecca back to the 
apartment from which she had sallied, she proceeded to conduct the 
unwilling Cedric into a small apartment, the door of which she heedfully 
secured. Then fetching from a cupboard a stoup of wine and two flagons, she 
placed them on the table, and said in a tone rather asserting a fact than 
asking a question, "Thou art Saxon, father - Deny it not," she continued, 
observing that Cedric hastened not to reply; "the sounds of my native 
language are sweet to mine ears, though seldom heard save from the tongues 
of the wretched and degraded serfs on whom the proud Normans impose the 
meanest drudgery of this dwelling. Thou art a Saxon, father - a Saxon, and, 
save as thou art a servant of God, a freeman. - Thine accents are sweet in 
mine ear."
"Do not Saxon priests visit this castle, then?" replied Cedric; "it were, 
methinks, their duty to comfort the outcast and oppressed children of the 
soil."
"They come not - or if they come, they better love to revel at the boards 
of their conquerors," answered Urfried, "than to hear the groans of their 
countrymen - so, at least, report speaks of them - of myself I can say 
little. This castle, for ten years, has opened to no priest save the 
debauched Norman chaplain who partook the nightly revels of Front-de-Boeuf, 
and he has been long gone to render an account of his stewardship. - But 
thou art a Saxon - a Saxon priest, and I have one question to ask of thee."
"I am a Saxon," answered Cedric, "but unworthy, surely, of the name of 
priest. Let me begone on my way - I swear I will return, or send one of our 
fathers more worthy to hear your confession."
"Stay yet a while," said Urfried; "the accents of the voice which thou 
hearest now will soon be choked with the cold earth, and I would not 
descend to it like the beast I have lived. But wine must give me strength 
to tell the horrors of my tale." She poured out a cup, and drank it with a 
frightful avidity, which seemed desirous of draining the last drop in the 
goblet. "It stupefies," she said, looking upwards as she finished her 
drought, "but it cannot cheer - Partake it, father, if you would hear my 
tale without sinking down upon the pavement." Cedric would have avoided 
pledging her in this ominous conviviality, but the sign which she made to 
him expressed impatience and despair. He complied with her request, and 
answered her challenge in a large wine-cup; she then proceeded with her 
story, as if appeased by his complaisance.
"I was not born," she said, "father, the wretch that thou now seest me. I 
was free, was happy, was honoured, loved, and was beloved. I am now a 
slave, miserable and degraded - the sport of my masters' passions while I 
had yet beauty - the object of their contempt, scorn, and hatred, since it 
has passed away. Dost thou wonder, father, that I should hate mankind, and, 
above all, the race that has wrought this change in me? Can the wrinkled 
decrepit hag before thee, whose wrath must vent itself in impotent curses, 
forget she was once the daughter of the noble Thane of Torquilstone, before 
whose frown a thousand vassals trembled?"
"Thou the daughter of Torquil Wolfganger!" said Cedric, receding as he 
spoke; "thou - thou - the daughter of that noble Saxon, my father's friend 
and companion in arms!"
"Thy father's friend!" echoed Urfried; "then Cedric called the Saxon stands 
before me, for the noble Hereward of Rotherwood had but one son, whose name 
is well known among his countrymen. But if thou art Cedric of Rotherwood, 
why this religious dress? - hast thou too despaired of saving thy country, 
and sought refuge from oppression in the shade of the convent?"
"It matters not who I am," said Cedric; "proceed, unhappy woman, with thy 
tale of horror and guilt! - Guilt there must be - there is guilt even in 
thy living to tell it."
"There is - there is," answered the wretched woman, "deep, black, damning 
guilt, - guilt, that lies like a load at my breast - guilt, that all the 
penitential fires of hereafter cannot cleanse. - Yes, in these halls, 
stained with the noble and pure blood of my father and my brethren - in 
these very halls, to have lived the paramour of their murderer, the slave 
at once and the partaker of his pleasures, was to render every breath which 
I drew of vital air, a crime and a curse."
"Wretched woman!" exclaimed Cedric. "And while the friends of thy father - 
while each true Saxon heart, as it breathed a requiem for his soul, and 
those of his valiant sons, forgot not in their prayers the murdered Ulrica 
- while all mourned and honoured the dead, thou hast lived to merit our 
hate and execration - lived to unite thyself with the vile tyrant who 
murdered thy nearest and dearest - who shed the blood of infancy, rather 
than a male of the noble house of Torquil Wolfganger should survive - with 
him hast thou lived to unite thyself, and in the hands of lawless love!"
"In lawless hands, indeed, but not in those of love!" answered the hag; 
"love will sooner visit the regions of eternal doom, than those unhallowed 
vaults. - No, with that at least I cannot reproach myself - hatred to Front-
de-Boeuf and his race governed my soul most deeply, even in the hour of his 
guilty endearments."
"You hated him, and yet you lived," replied Cedric; "wretch! was there no 
poniard - no knife - no bodkin! - Well was it for thee, since thou didst 
prize such an existence, that the secrets of a Norman castle are like those 
of the grave. For had I but dreamed of the daughter of Torquil living in 
foul communion with the murderer of her father, the sword of a true Saxon 
had found thee out even in the arms of thy paramour!"
"Wouldst thou indeed have done this justice to the name of Torquil?" said 
Ulrica, for we may now lay aside her assumed name of Urfried; "thou art 
then the true Saxon report speaks thee! for even within these accursed 
walls, where, as thou well sayst, guilt shrouds itself in inscrutable 
mystery, even there has the name of Cedric been sounded - and I, wretched 
and degraded, have rejoiced to think that there yet breathed an avenger of 
our unhappy nation. - I also have had my hours of vengeance - I have 
fomented the quarrels of our foes, and heated drunken revelry into 
murderous broil - I have seen their blood flow - I have heard their dying 
groans! - Look on me, Cedric - are there not still left on this foul and 
faded face some traces of the features of Torquil?"
"Ask me not of them, Ulrica," replied Cedric, in a tone of grief mixed with 
abhorrence; "these traces form such a resemblance as arises from the graves 
of the dead, when a fiend has animated the lifeless corpse."
"Be it so," answered Ulrica; "yet wore these fiendish features the mask of 
a spirit of light when they were able to set at variance the elder Front-de-
Boeuf and his son Reginald! The darkness of hell should hide what followed, 
but revenge must lift the veil, and darkly intimate what it would raise the 
dead to speak aloud. Long had the smouldering fire of discord glowed 
between the tyrant father and his savage son - long had I nursed, in 
secret, the unnatural hatred - it blazed forth in an hour of drunken 
wassail, and at his own board fell my oppressor by the hand of his own son 
- such are the secrets these vaults conceal! - Rend asunder, ye accursed 
arches," she added, looking up towards the roof, "and bury in your fall all 
who are conscious of the hideous mystery!"
"And thou, creature of guilt and misery," said Cedric, "what became thy lot 
on the death of thy ravisher?"
"Guess it, but ask it not. - Here - here I dwelt, till age, premature age, 
has stamped its ghastly features on my countenance - scorned and insulted 
where I was once obeyed, and compelled to bound the revenge which had once 
such ample scope, to the efforts of petty malice of a discontented menial, 
or the vain or unheeded curses of an impotent hag - condemned to hear from 
my lonely turret the sounds of revelry in which I once partook, or the 
shrieks and groans of new victims of oppression."
"Ulrica," said Cedric, "with a heart which still, I fear, regrets the lost 
reward of thy crimes, as much as the deeds by which thou didst acquire that 
meed, how didst thou dare to address thee to one who wears this robe? 
Consider, unhappy woman, what could the sainted Edward himself do for thee, 
were he here in bodily presence? The royal Confessor was endowed by heaven 
with power to cleanse the ulcers of the body, but only God himself can cure 
the leprosy of the soul."
"Yet, turn not from me, stern prophet of wrath," she exclaimed, "but tell 
me, if thou canst, in what shall terminate these new and awful feelings 
that burst on my solitude - Why do deeds, long since done, rise before me 
in new and irresistible horrors? What fate is prepared beyond the grave for 
her, to whom God has assigned on earth a lot of such unspeakable 
wretchedness? Better had I turn to Woden, Hertha, and Zernebock - to Mista, 
and to Skogula, the gods of our yet unbaptised ancestors, than endure the 
dreadful anticipations which have of late haunted my waking and my sleeping 
hours!"
"I am no priest," said Cedric, turning with disgust from this miserable 
picture of guilt, wretchedness, and despair; "I am no priest, though I wear 
a priest's garment."
"Priest or layman," answered Ulrica, "thou art the first I have seen for 
twenty years, by whom God was feared or man regarded; and dost thou bid me 
despair?"
"I bid thee repent," said Cedric. "Seek to prayer and penance, and mayst 
thou find acceptance! But I cannot, I will not, longer abide with thee."
"Stay yet a moment!" said Ulrica; "leave me not now, son of my father's 
friend, lest the demon who has governed my life should tempt me to avenge 
myself of thy hard-hearted scorn - Thinkest thou, if Front-de-Boeuf found 
Cedric the Saxon in his castle, in such a disguise, that thy life would be 
a long one? - Already his eye has been upon thee like a falcon on his 
prey."
"And be it so," said Cedric; "and let him tear me with beak and talons, ere 
my tongue say one word which my heart doth not warrant. I will die a Saxon 
- true in word, open in deed - I bid thee avaunt! - touch me not, stay me 
not! - The sight of Front-de-Boeuf himself is less odious to me than thou, 
degraded and degenerate as thou art."
"Be it so," said Ulrica, no longer interrupting him; "go thy way, and 
forget, in the insolence of thy superiority, that the wretch before thee is 
the daughter of thy father's friend. - Go thy way - if I am separated from 
mankind by my sufferings - separated from those whose aid I might most 
justly expect - not less will I be separated from them in my revenge! - No 
man shall aid me, but the ears of all men shall tingle to hear of the deed 
which I shall dare to do! - Farewell! - thy scorn has burst the last tie 
which seemed yet to unite me to my kind - a thought that my woes might 
claim the compassion of my people."
"Ulrica," said Cedric, softened by this appeal, "hast thou borne up and 
endured to live through so much guilt and so much misery, and wilt thou now 
yield to despair when thine eyes are opened to thy crimes, and when 
repentance were thy fitter occupation?"
"Cedric," answered Ulrica, "thou little knowest the human heart. To act as 
I have acted, to think as I have thought, requires the maddening love of 
pleasure, mingled with the keen appetite of revenge, the proud 
consciousness of power; droughts too intoxicating for the human heart to 
bear, and yet retain the power to prevent. Their force has long passed away 
- Age has no pleasures, wrinkles have no influence, revenge itself dies 
away in impotent curses. Then comes remorse, with all its vipers, mixed 
with vain regrets for the past, and despair for the future! - Then, when 
all other strong impulses have ceased, we become like the fiends in hell, 
who may feel remorse, but never repentance. - But thy words have awakened a 
new soul within me - Well hast thou said, all is possible for those who 
dare to die! - Thou hast shown me the means of revenge, and be assured I 
will embrace them. It has hitherto shared this wasted bosom with other and 
with rival passions - henceforward it shall possess me wholly, and thou 
thyself shalt say, that, whatever was the life of Ulrica, her death well 
became the daughter of the noble Torquil. There is a force without 
beleaguering this accursed castle - hasten to lead them to the attack, and 
when thou shalt see a red flag wave from the turret on the eastern angle of 
the donjon, press the Normans hard - they will then have enough to do 
within, and you may win the wall in spite both of bow and mangonel. - 
Begone, I pray thee - follow thine own fate, and leave me to mine."
Cedric would have enquired farther into the purpose which she thus darkly 
announced, but the stern voice of Front-de-Boeuf was heard, exclaiming, 
"Where tarries this loitering priest? By the scallop-shell of Compostella, 
I will make a martyr of him, if he loiters here to hatch treason among my 
domestics!"
"What a true prophet," said Ulrica, "is an evil conscience! But heed him 
not - out and to thy people - Cry your Saxon onslaught, and let them sing 
their war-song of Rollo, if they will; vengeance shall bear a burden to 
it."
As she thus spoke, she vanished through a private door, and Reginald Front-
de-Boeuf entered the apartment. Cedric, with some difficulty, compelled 
himself to make obeisance to the haughty Baron, who returned his courtesy 
with a slight inclination of the head.
"Thy penitents, father, have made a long shrift - it is the better for 
them, since it is the last they shall ever make. Hast thou prepared them 
for death?"
"I found them," said Cedric, in such French as he could command, "expecting 
the worst, from the moment they knew into whose power they had fallen."
"How now, Sir Friar," replied Front-de-Boeuf, "thy speech, methinks, smacks 
of a Saxon tongue?"
"I was bred in the convent of St Withold of Burton," answered Cedric.
"Ay?" said the Baron; "it had been better for thee to have been a Norman, 
and better for my purpose too; but need has no choice of messengers. That 
St Withold's of Burton is a howlet's nest worth the harrying. The day will 
soon come that the frock shall protect the Saxon as little as the mail-
coat."
"God's will be done," said Cedric, in a voice tremulous with passion, which 
Front-de-Boeuf imputed to fear.
"I see," said he, "thou dreamest already that our men-at-arms are in thy 
refectory and thy ale-vaults. But do me one cast of thy holy office, and, 
come what list of others, thou shalt sleep as safe in thy cell as a snail 
within his shell of proof."
"Speak your commands," said Cedric, with suppressed emotion.
"Follow me through this passage, then, that I may dismiss thee by the 
postern."
And as he strode on his way before the supposed friar, Front-de-Boeuf thus 
schooled him in the part which he desired he should act.
"Thou seest, Sir Friar, yon herd of Saxon swine, who have dared to environ 
this castle of Torquilstone - Tell them whatever thou hast a mind of the 
weakness of this fortalice, or aught else that can detain them before it 
for twenty-four hours. Meantime bear thou this scroll - But soft - canst 
read, Sir Priest?"
"Not a jot I," answered Cedric, "save on my breviary; and then I know the 
characters, because I have the holy service by heart, praised be Our Lady 
and St Withold!"
"The fitter messenger for my purpose. - Carry thou this scroll to the 
castle of Philip de Malvoisin; say it cometh from me, and is written by the 
Templar Brian de Bois-Guilbert, and that I pray him to send it to York with 
all the speed man and horse can make. Meanwhile, tell him to doubt nothing, 
he shall find us whole and sound behind our battlement - Shame on it, that 
we should be compelled to hide thus by a pack of runagates, who are wont to 
fly even at the flash of our pennons and the tramp of our horses! I say to 
thee, priest, contrive some cast of thine art to keep the knaves where they 
are, until our friends bring up their lances. My vengeance is awake, and 
she is a falcon that slumbers not till she has been gorged."
"By my patron saint," said Cedric, with deeper energy than became his 
character, "and by every saint who has lived and died in England, your 
commands shall be obeyed! Not a Saxon shall stir from before these walls, 
if I have art and influence to detain them there."
"Ha!" said Front-de-Boeuf, "thou changest thy tone, Sir Priest, and 
speakest brief and bold, as if thy heart were in the slaughter of the Saxon 
herd; and yet thou art thyself of kindred to the swine?"
Cedric was no ready practiser of the art of dissimulation, and would at 
this moment have been much the better of a hint from Wamba's more fertile 
brain. But necessity, according to the ancient proverb, sharpens invention, 
and he muttered something under his cowl concerning the men in question 
being excommunicated outlaws both to church and to kingdom.
"Despardieux," answered Front-de-Boeuf, "thou hast spoken the very truth - 
I forgot that the knaves can strip a fat abbot, as well as if they had been 
born south of yonder salt channel. Was it not he of St Ives whom they tied 
to an oak-tree, and compelled to sing a mass while they were rifling his 
mails and his wallets? - No, by our Lady - that jest was played by Gualtier 
of Middleton, one of our own companions-at-arms. But they were Saxons who 
robbed the chapel at St Bees of cup, candlestick and chalice, were they 
not?"
"They were godless men," answered Cedric.
"Ay, and they drank out all the good wine and ale that lay in store for 
many a secret carousal, when ye pretend ye are but busied with vigils and 
primes! - Priest, thou art bound to revenge such sacrilege."
"I am indeed bound to vengeance," murmured Cedric; "Saint Withold knows my 
heart."
Front-de-Boeuf, in the meanwhile, led the way to a postern, where, passing 
the moat on a single plank, they reached a small barbican, or exterior 
defence, which communicated with the open field by a well-fortified 
sallyport.
"Begone, then; and if thou wilt do mine errand, and if thou return hither 
when it is done, thou shalt see Saxon flesh cheap as ever was hog's in the 
shambles of Sheffield. And, hark thee, thou seem'st to be a jolly confessor 
- come hither after the onslaught, and thou shalt have as much Malvoisie as 
would drench thy whole convent."
"Assuredly we shall meet again," answered Cedric.
"Something in hand the whilst," continued the Norman; and, as they parted 
at the postern door, he thrust into Cedric's reluctant hand a gold Byzant, 
adding, "Remember, I will fly off both cowl and skin, if thou failest in 
thy purpose."
"And full leave will I give thee to do both," answered Cedric, leaving the 
postern, and striding forth over the free field with a joyful step, "if, 
when we meet next, I deserve not better at thine hand." - Turning then back 
towards the castle, he threw the piece of gold towards the donor, 
exclaiming at the same time, "False Norman, thy money perish with thee!"
Front-de-Boeuf heard the words imperfectly, but the action was suspicious - 
"Archers," he called to the warders on the outward battlements, "send me an 
arrow through yon monk's frock! - yet stay," he said, as his retainers were 
bending their bows, "it avails not - we must thus far trust him since we 
have no better shift. I think he dares not betray me - at the worst I can 
but treat with these Saxon dogs whom I have safe in kennel. - Ho! Giles 
jailor, let them bring Cedric of Rotherwood before me, and the other churl, 
his companion - him I mean of Coningsburgh - Athelstane there, or what call 
they him? Their very names are an encumbrance to a Norman knight's mouth, 
and have, as it were, a flavour of bacon - Give me a stoup of wine, as 
jolly Prince John said, that I may wash away the relish - place it in the 
armoury, and thither lead the prisoners."
His commands were obeyed; and, upon entering that Gothic apartment, hung 
with many spoils won by his own valour and that of his father, he found a 
flagon of wine on the massive oaken table, and the two Saxon captives under 
the guard of four of his dependants. Front-de-Boeuf took a long drought of 
wine, and then addressed his prisoners; - for the manner in which Wamba 
drew the cap over his face, the change of dress, the gloomy and broken 
light, and the Baron's imperfect acquaintance with the features of Cedric, 
(who avoided his Norman neighbours, and seldom stirred beyond his own 
domains,) prevented him from discovering that the most important of his 
captives had made his escape.
"Gallants of England," said Front-de-Boeuf, "how relish ye your 
entertainment at Torquilstone? - Are ye yet aware what your surquedy and 
outrecuidance merit, for scoffing at the entertainment of a prince of the 
House of Anjou? - Have ye forgotten how ye requited the unmerited 
hospitality of the royal John? By God and St Dennis, an ye pay not the 
richer ransom, I will hang ye up by the feet from the iron bars of these 
windows, till the kites and hooded crows have made skeletons of you! - 
Speak out, ye Saxon dogs - what bid ye for your worthless lives? - How say 
you, you of Rotherwood?
"Not a doit I," answered poor Wamba - "and for hanging up by the feet, my 
brain has been topsy-turvy, they say, ever since the biggin was bound first 
round my head; so turning me upside down may peradventure restore it 
again."
"Saint Genevieve!" said Front-de-Boeuf, "what have we got here?"
And with the back of his hand he struck Cedric's cap from the head of the 
Jester, and throwing open his collar, discovered the fatal badge of 
servitude, the silver collar round his neck.
"Giles - Clement - dogs and varlets!" exclaimed the furious Norman, "what 
have you brought me here?"
"I think I can tell you," said De Bracy, who just entered the apartment. 
"This is Cedric's clown, who fought so manful a skirmish with Isaac of York 
about a question of precedence."
"I shall settle it for them both," replied Front-de-Boeuf; "they shall hang 
on the same gallows, unless his master and this boar of Coningsburgh will 
pay well for their lives. Their wealth is the least they can surrender; 
they must also carry off with them the swarms that are besetting the 
castle, subscribe a surrender of their pretended immunities, and live under 
us as serfs and vassals; too happy if, in the new world that is about to 
begin, we leave them the breath of their nostrils. - Go," said he to two of 
his attendants, "fetch me the right Cedric hither, and I pardon your error 
for once; the rather that you but mistook a fool for a Saxon franklin."
"Ay, but," said Wamba, "your chivalrous excellency will find there are more 
fools than franklins among us."
"What means the knave?" said Front-de-Boeuf, looking towards his followers, 
who, lingering and loath, faltered forth their belief, that if this were 
not Cedric who was there in presence, they knew not what was become of him.
"Saints of Heaven!" exclaimed De Bracy, "he must have escaped in the monk's 
garments!"
"Fiends of hell!" echoed Front-de-Boeuf, "it was then the boar of 
Rotherwood whom I ushered to the postern, and dismissed with my own hands! 
- And thou," he said to Wamba, "whose folly could overreach the wisdom of 
idiots yet more gross than thyself - I will give thee holy orders - I will 
shave thy crown for thee! - Here, let them tear the scalp from his head, 
and then pitch him headlong from the battlements - Thy trade is to jest, 
canst thou jest now?"
"You deal with me better than your word, noble knight," whimpered forth 
poor Wamba, whose habits of buffoonery were not to be overcome even by the 
immediate prospect of death; "if you give me the red cap you propose, out 
of a simple monk you will make a cardinal."
"The poor wretch," said De Bracy, "is resolved to die in his vocation. - 
Front-de-Boeuf, you shall not slay him. Give him to me to make sport for my 
Free Companions. - How sayst thou, knave? Wilt thou take heart of grace, 
and go to the wars with me?"
"Ay, with my master's leave," said Wamba; "for, look you, I must not slip 
collar" (and he touched that which he wore) "without his permission."
"Oh, a Norman saw will soon cut a Saxon collar." said De Bracy.
"Ay, noble sir," said Wamba, "and thence goes the proverb -

	'Norman saw on English oak,
	On English neck a Norman yoke;
	Norman spoon in English dish,
	And England ruled as Normans wish;
	Blithe world to England never will be more,
	Till England's rid of all the four.' "

"Thou dost well, De Bracy,' said Front-de-Boeuf, "to stand there listening 
to a fool's jargon, when destruction is gaping for us! Seest thou not we 
are overreached, and that our proposed mode of communicating with our 
friends without has been disconcerted by this same motley gentleman thou 
art so fond to brother? What views have we to expect but instant storm?"
"To the battlements then," said De Bracy; "when didst thou ever see me the 
graver for the thoughts of battle? Call the Templar yonder, and let him 
fight but half so well for his life as he has done for his Order - Make 
thou to the walls thyself with thy huge body - Let me do my poor endeavour 
in my own way, and I tell thee the Saxon outlaws may as well attempt to 
scale the clouds, as the castle of Torquilstone; or, if you will treat with 
the banditti, why not employ the mediation of this worthy franklin, who 
seems in such deep contemplation of the wine-flagon? - Here, Saxon," he 
continued, addressing Athelstane, and handing the cup to him, "rinse thy 
throat with that noble liquor, and rouse up thy soul to say what thou wilt 
do for thy liberty."
"What a man of mould may," answered Athelstane, "providing it be what a man 
of manhood ought. - Dismiss me free, with my companions, and I will pay a 
ransom of a thousand marks."
"And wilt moreover assure us the retreat of that scum of mankind who are 
swarming around the castle, contrary to God's peace and the king's?" said 
Front-de-Boeuf.
"In so far as I can," answered Athelstane, "I will withdraw them; and I 
fear not but that my father Cedric will do his best to assist me."
"We are agreed then," said Front-de-Boeuf - "thou and they are to be set at 
freedom, and peace is to be on both sides, for payment of a thousand marks. 
It is a trifling ransom, Saxon, and thou wilt owe gratitude to the 
moderation which accepts of it in exchange of your persons. But mark, this 
extends not to the Jew Isaac."
"Nor to the Jew Isaac's daughter," said the Templar, who had now joined 
them
"Neither," said Front-de-Boeuf, "belong to this Saxon's company."
"I were unworthy to be called Christian, if they did," replied Athelstane: 
"deal with the unbelievers as ye list."
"Neither does the ransom include the Lady Rowena," said De Bracy. "It shall 
never be said I was scared out of a fair prize without striking a blow for 
it."
"Neither," said Front-de-Boeuf, "does our treaty refer to this wretched 
Jester, whom I retain, that I may make him an example to every knave who 
turns jest into earnest."
"The Lady Rowena," answered Athelstane, with the most steady countenance, 
"is my affianced bride. I will be drawn by wild horses before I consent to 
part with her. The slave Wamba has this day saved the life of my father 
Cedric - I will lose mine ere a hair of his head be injured."
"Thy affianced bride? - The Lady Rowena the affianced bride of a vassal 
like thee?" said De Bracy; "Saxon, thou dreamest that the days of thy seven 
kingdoms are returned again. I tell thee, the Princes of the House of Anjou 
confer not their wards on men of such lineage as thine."
"My lineage, proud Norman," replied Athelstane, "is drawn from a source 
more pure and ancient than that of a beggarly Frenchman, whose living is 
won by selling the blood of the thieves whom he assembles under his paltry 
standard. Kings were my ancestors, strong in war and wise in council, who 
every day feasted in their hall more hundreds than thou canst number 
individual followers; whose names have been sung by minstrels, and their 
laws recorded by Wittenagemotes; whose bones were interred amid the prayers 
of saints, and over whose tombs minsters have been builded."
"Thou hast it, De Bracy," said Front-de-Boeuf, well pleased with the rebuff 
which his companion had received; "the Saxon hath hit thee fairly."
"As fairly as a captive can strike," said De Bracy, with apparent 
carelessness; "for he whose hands are tied should have his tongue at 
freedom. - But thy glibness of reply, comrade," rejoined he, speaking to 
Athelstane, "will not win the freedom of the Lady Rowena."
To this Athelstane, who had already made a longer speech than was his 
custom to do on any topic, however interesting, returned no answer. The 
conversation was interrupted by the arrival of a menial, who announced that 
a monk demanded admittance at the postern gate.
"In the name of Saint Bennet, the prince of these bull-beggars," said Front-
de-Boeuf, "have we a real monk this time, or another impostor? Search him, 
slaves - for an ye suffer a second impostor to be palmed upon you, I will 
have your eyes torn out, and hot coals put into the sockets."
"Let me endure the extremity of your anger, my lord," said Giles, "if this 
be not a real shaveling. Your squire Jocelyn knows him well, and will vouch 
him to be brother Ambrose, a monk in attendance upon the Prior of 
Jorvaulx."
"Admit him," said Front-de-Boeuf; "most likely he brings us news from his 
jovial master. Surely the devil keeps holiday, and the priests are relieved 
from duty, that they are strolling thus wildly through the country. Remove 
these prisoners; and, Saxon, think on what thou hast heard."
"I claim," said Athelstane, "an honourable imprisonment, with due care of 
my board and of my couch, as becomes my rank, and as is due to one who is 
in treaty for ransom. Moreover, I hold him that deems himself the best of 
you, bound to answer to me with his body for this aggression on my freedom. 
This defiance hath already been sent to thee by thy sewer; thou underliest 
it, and art bound to answer me - There lies my glove."
"I answer not the challenge of my prisoner," said Front-de-Boeuf; "nor 
shalt thou, Maurice de Bracy. - Giles," he continued, "hang the franklin's 
glove upon the tine of yonder branched antlers: there shall it remain until 
he is a free man. Should he then presume to demand it, or to affirm he was 
unlawfully made my prisoner, by the belt of Saint Christopher, he will 
speak to one who hath never refused to meet a foe on foot or on horseback, 
alone or with his vassals at his back!"
The Saxon prisoners were accordingly removed, just as they introduced the 
monk Ambrose, who appeared to be in great perturbation.
"This is the real Deus vobiscum," said Wamba, as he passed the reverend 
brother; "the others were but counterfeits."
"Holy Mother," said the monk, as he addressed the assembled knights, "I am 
at last safe and in Christian keeping!"
"Safe thou art," replied De Bracy; "and for Christianity, here is the stout 
Baron Reginald Front-de-Boeuf, whose utter abomination is a Jew; and the 
good Knight Templar, Brian de Bois-Guilbert, whose trade is to slay 
Saracens - If these are not good marks of Christianity, I know no other 
which they bear about them."
"Ye are friends and allies of our reverend father in God, Aymer, Prior of 
Jorvaulx," said the monk, without noticing the tone of De Bracy's reply; 
"ye owe him aid both by knightly faith and holy charity; for what saith the 
blessed Saint Augustin, in his treatise De Civitate Dei - "
"What saith the devil!" interrupted Front-de-Boeuf; "or rather what dost 
thou say, Sir Priest? We have little time to hear texts from the holy 
fathers."
"Sancta Maria!" ejaculated Father Ambrose, "how prompt to ire are these 
unhallowed laymen! - But be it known to you, brave knights, that certain 
murderous caitiffs, casting behind them fear of God, and reverence of his 
church, and not regarding the bull of the holy see, Si quis, suadende 
Diabolo - "
"Brother priest," said the Templar, "all this we know or guess at - tell us 
plainly, is thy master, the Prior, made prisoner, and to whom?"
"Surely," said Ambrose "he is in the hands of the men of Belial, infesters 
of these woods, and contemners of the holy text, 'Touch not mine anointed, 
and do my prophets naught of evil.' "
"Here is a new argument for our swords, sirs," said Front-de-Boeuf, turning 
to his companions; "and so, instead of reaching us any assistance, the 
Prior of Jorvaulx requests aid at our hands? a man is well helped of these 
lazy churchmen when he hath most to do! - But speak out, priest, and say at 
once, what doth thy master expect from us?"
"So please you," said Ambrose, "violent hands having been imposed on my 
reverend superior, contrary to the holy ordinance which I did already 
quote, and the men of Belial having rifled his mails and budgets, and 
stripped him of two hundred marks of pure refined gold, they do yet demand 
of him a large sum beside, ere they will suffer him to depart from their 
uncircumcised hands. Wherefore the reverend father in God prays you, as his 
dear friends, to rescue him, either by paying down the ransom at which they 
hold him, or by force of arms, at your best discretion."
"The foul fiend quell the Prior!" said Front-de-Boeuf; "his morning's 
drought has been a deep one. When did thy master hear of a Norman baron 
unbuckling his purse to relieve a churchman, whose bags are ten times as 
weighty as ours? - And how can we do aught by valour to free him, that are 
cooped up here by ten times our number, and expect an assault every 
moment?"
"And that was what I was about to tell you," said the monk, "had your 
hastiness allowed me time. But, God help me, I am old, and these foul 
onslaughts distract an aged man's brain. Nevertheless, it is of verity that 
they assemble a camp, and raise a bank against the walls of this castle."
"To the battlements!" cried De Bracy, "and let us mark what these knaves do 
without;" and so saying, he opened a latticed window which led to a sort of 
bartisan or projecting balcony, and immediately called from thence to those 
in the apartment - "Saint Dennis, but the old monk hath brought true 
tidings! - They bring forward mantelets and pavisses, and the archers 
muster on the skirts of the wood like a dark cloud before a hailstorm."
Reginald Front-de-Boeuf also looked out upon the field, and immediately 
snatched his bugle; and, after winding a long and loud blast, commanded his 
men to their posts on the walls.
"De Bracy, look to the eastern side, where the walls are lowest - Noble 
Bois-Guilbert, thy trade hath well taught thee how to attack and defend, 
look thou to the western side - I myself will take post at the barbican. 
Yet, do not confine your exertions to any one spot, noble friends! - we 
must this day be everywhere, and multiply ourselves, were it possible, so 
as to carry by our presence succour and relief wherever the attack is 
hottest. Our numbers are few, but activity and courage may supply that 
defect, since we have only to do with rascal clowns."
"But, noble knights," exclaimed Father Ambrose, amidst the bustle and 
confusion occasioned by the preparations for defence, "will none of ye hear 
the message of the reverend father in God Aymer, Prior of Jorvaulx? - I 
beseech thee to hear me, noble Sir Reginald!"
"Go patter thy petitions to heaven," said the fierce Norman, "for we on 
earth have no time to listen to them. - Ho! there, Anselm I see that 
seething pitch and oil are ready to pour on the heads of these audacious 
traitors - Look that the cross-bowmen lack not bolts. - Fling abroad my 
banner with the old bull's head - the knaves shall soon find with whom they 
have to do this day!"
"But, noble sir," continued the monk, persevering in his endeavours to draw 
attention, "consider my vow of obedience, and let me discharge myself of my 
Superior's errand."
"Away with this prating dotard," said Front-de Boeuf, "lock him up in the 
chapel, to tell his beads till the broil be over. It will be a new thing to 
the saints in Torquilstone to hear aves and paters; they have not been so 
honoured, I trow, since they were cut out of stone."
"Blaspheme not the holy saints, Sir Reginald," said De Bracy, "we shall 
have need of their aid to-day before yon rascal rout disband."
"I expect little aid from their hand," said Front-de-Boeuf, "unless we were 
to hurl them from the battlements on the heads of the villains. There is a 
huge lumbering Saint Christopher yonder, sufficient to bear a whole company 
to the earth."
The Templar had in the meantime been looking out on the proceedings of the 
besiegers, with rather more attention than the brutal Front-de-Boeuf or his 
giddy companion.
"By the faith of mine order," he said, "these men approach with more touch 
of discipline than could have been judged, however they come by it. See ye 
how dextrously they avail themselves of every cover which a tree or bush 
affords, and shun exposing themselves to the shot of our cross-bows? I spy 
neither banner nor pennon among them, and yet will I gage my golden chain, 
that they are led on by some noble knight or gentleman, skilful in the 
practice of wars."
"I espy him," said De Bracy; "I see the waving of a knight's crest, and the 
gleam of his armour. See yon tall man in the black mail, who is busied 
marshalling the farther troop of the rascaille yeomen - by Saint Dennis, I 
hold him to be the same whom we called Le Noir Faineant, who overthrew 
thee, Front-de-Boeuf, in the lists at Ashby."
"So much the better," said Front-de-Boeuf, "that he comes here to give me 
my revenge. Some hilding fellow he must be, who dared not stay to assert 
his claim to the tourney prize which chance had assigned him. I should in 
vain have sought for him where knights and nobles seek their foes, and 
right glad am I he hath here shown himself among yon villain yeomanry."
The demonstrations of the enemy's immediate approach cut off all farther 
discourse. Each knight repaired to his post, and at the head of the few 
followers whom they were able to muster, and who were in numbers inadequate 
to defend the whole extent of the walls, they awaited with calm 
determination the threatened assault.


Chapter 28

		This wandering race, sever'd from other men,
		Boast yet their intercourse with human arts;
		The seas, the woods, the deserts, which they haunt,
		Find them acquainted with their secret treasures:
		And unregarded herbs, and flowers, and blossoms,
		Display undreamt-of powers when gather'd by them.
									-- The Jew.

Our history must needs retrograde for the space of a few pages, to inform 
the reader of certain passages material to his understanding the rest of 
this important narrative. His own intelligence may indeed have easily 
anticipated that, when Ivanhoe sunk down, and seemed abandoned by all the 
world, it was the importunity of Rebecca which prevailed on her father to 
have the gallant young warrior transported from the lists to the house 
which for the time the Jews inhabited in the suburbs of Ashby.
It would not have been difficult to have persuaded Isaac to this step in 
any other circumstances, for his disposition was kind and grateful. But he 
had also the prejudices and scrupulous timidity of his persecuted people, 
and those were to be conquered.
"Holy Abraham!" he exclaimed, "he is a good youth, and my heart bleeds to 
see the gore trickle down his rich embroidered haqueton, and his corslet of 
goodly price - but to carry him to our house! - damsel, hast thou well 
considered? - he is a Christian, and by our law we may not deal with the 
stranger and Gentile, save for the advantage of our commerce."
"Speak not so, my dear father," replied Rebecca; "we may not indeed mix 
with them in banquet and in jollity; but in wounds and in misery, the 
Gentile becometh the Jew's brother."
"I would I knew what the Rabbi Jacob Ben Tudela would opine on it," replied 
Isaac; - "nevertheless, the good youth must not bleed to death. Let Seth 
and Reuben bear him to Ashby."
"Nay, let them place him in my litter," said Rebecca; "I will mount one of 
the palfreys."
"That were to expose thee to the gaze of those dogs of Ishmael and of 
Edom," whispered Isaac, with a suspicious glance towards the crowd of 
knights and squires. But Rebecca was already busied in carrying her 
charitable purpose into effect, and listed not what he said, until Isaac, 
seizing the sleeve of her mantle, again exclaimed, in a hurried voice - 
"Beard of Aaron! - what if the youth perish! - if he die in our custody, 
shall we not be held guilty of his blood, and be torn to pieces by the 
multitude?"
"He will not die, my father," said Rebecca, gently extricating herself from 
the grasp of Isaac "he will not die unless we abandon him; and if so, we 
are indeed answerable for his blood to God and to man."
"Nay," said Isaac, releasing his hold, "it grieveth me as much to see the 
drops of his blood, as if they were so many golden byzants from mine own 
purse; and I well know, that the lessons of Miriam, daughter of the Rabbi 
Manasses of Byzantium whose soul is in Paradise, have made thee skilful in 
the art of healing, and that thou knowest the craft of herbs, and the force 
of elixirs. Therefore, do as thy mind giveth thee - thou art a good damsel, 
a blessing, and a crown, and a song of rejoicing unto me and unto my house, 
and unto the people of my fathers."
The apprehensions of Isaac, however, were not ill founded; and the generous 
and grateful benevolence of his daughter exposed her, on her return to 
Ashby, to the unhallowed gaze of Brian de Bois-Guilbert. The Templar twice 
passed and repassed them on the road, fixing his bold and ardent look on 
the beautiful Jewess; and we have already seen the consequences of the 
admiration which her charms excited when accident threw her into the power 
of that unprincipled voluptuary.
Rebecca lost no time in causing the patient to be transported to their 
temporary dwelling, and proceeded with her own hands to examine and to bind 
up his wounds. The youngest reader of romances and romantic ballads, must 
recollect how often the females, during the dark ages, as they are called, 
were initiated into the mysteries of surgery, and how frequently the 
gallant knight submitted the wounds of his person to her cure, whose eyes 
had yet more deeply penetrated his heart.
But the Jews, both male and female, possessed and practised the medical 
science in all its branches, and the monarchs and powerful barons of the 
time frequently committed themselves to the charge of some experienced sage 
among this despised people, when wounded or in sickness. The aid of the 
Jewish physicians was not the less eagerly sought after, though a general 
belief prevailed among the Christians, that the Jewish Rabbins were deeply 
acquainted with the occult sciences, and particularly with the cabalistical 
art, which had its name and origin in the studies of the sages of Israel. 
Neither did the Rabbins disown such acquaintance with supernatural arts, 
which added nothing (for what could add aught?) to the hatred with which 
their nation was regarded, while it diminished the contempt with which that 
malevolence was mingled. A Jewish magician might be the subject of equal 
abhorrence with a Jewish usurer, but he could not be equally despised. It 
is besides probable, considering the wonderful cures they are said to have 
performed, that the Jews possessed some secrets of the healing art peculiar 
to themselves, and which, with the exclusive spirit arising out of their 
condition, they took great care to conceal from the Christians amongst whom 
they dwelt.
The beautiful Rebecca had been heedfully brought up in all the knowledge 
proper to her nation, which her apt and powerful mind had retained, 
arranged, and enlarged, in the course of a progress beyond her years, her 
sex, and even the age in which she lived. Her knowledge of medicine and of 
the healing art had been acquired under an aged Jewess, the daughter of one 
of their most celebrated doctors, who loved Rebecca as her own child, and 
was believed to have communicated to her secrets, which had been left to 
herself by her sage father at the same time, and under the same 
circumstances. The fate of Miriam had indeed been to fall a sacrifice to 
the fanaticism of the times; but her secrets had survived in her apt pupil.
Rebecca, thus endowed with knowledge as with beauty, was universally 
revered and admired by her own tribe, who almost regarded her as one of 
those gifted women mentioned in the sacred history. Her father himself, out 
of reverence for her talents, which involuntarily mingled itself with his 
unbounded affection, permitted the maiden a greater liberty than was 
usually indulged to those of her sex by the habits of her people, and was, 
as we have just seen, frequently guided by her opinion, even in preference 
to his own.
When Ivanhoe reached the habitation of Isaac, he was still in a state of 
unconsciousness, owing to the profuse loss of blood which had taken place 
during his exertions in the lists. Rebecca examined the wound, and having 
applied to it such vulnerary remedies as her art prescribed, informed her 
father that if fever could be averted, of which the great bleeding rendered 
her little apprehensive, and if the healing balsam of Miriam retained its 
virtue, there was nothing to fear for his guest's life, and that he might 
with safety travel to York with them on the ensuing day. Isaac looked a 
little blank at this annunciation. His charity would willingly have stopped 
short at Ashby, or at most would have left the wounded Christian to be 
tended in the house where he was residing at present, with an assurance to 
the Hebrew to whom it belonged, that all expenses should be duly 
discharged. To this, however, Rebecca opposed many reasons, of which we 
shall only mention two that had peculiar weight with Isaac. The one was, 
that she would on no account put the phial of precious balsam into the 
hands of another physician even of her own tribe, lest that valuable 
mystery should be discovered; the other, that this wounded knight, Wilfred 
of Ivanhoe, was an intimate favourite of Richard Coeur-de-Lion, and that, 
in case the monarch should return, Isaac, who had supplied his brother John 
with treasure to prosecute his rebellious purposes, would stand in no small 
need of a powerful protector who enjoyed Richard's favour.
"Thou art speaking but sooth, Rebecca," said Isaac, giving way to these 
weighty arguments - "it were an offending of Heaven to betray the secrets 
of the blessed Miriam; for the good which Heaven giveth, is not rashly to 
be squandered upon others, whether it be talents of gold and shekels of 
silver, or whether it be the secret mysteries of a wise physician - 
assuredly they should be preserved to those to whom Providence hath 
vouchsafed them. And him whom the Nazarenes of England call the Lion's 
Heart, assuredly it were better for me to fall into the hands of a strong 
lion of Idumea than into his, if he shall have got assurance of my dealing 
with his brother. Wherefore I will lend ear to thy counsel, and this youth 
shall journey with us unto York, and our house shall be as a home to him 
until his wounds shall be healed. And if he of the Lion Heart shall return 
to the land, as is now noised abroad, then shall this Wilfred of Ivanhoe be 
unto me as a wall of defence, when the king's displeasure shall burn high 
against thy father. And if he doth not return, this Wilfred may natheless 
repay us our charges when he shall gain treasure by the strength of his 
spear and of his sword, even as he did yesterday and this day also. For the 
youth is a good youth, and keepeth the day which he appointeth, and 
restoreth that which he borroweth, and succoureth the Israelite, even the 
child of my father's house, when he is encompassed by strong thieves and 
sons of Belial."
It was not until evening was nearly closed that Ivanhoe was restored to 
consciousness of his situation. He awoke from a broken slumber, under the 
confused impressions which are naturally attendant on the recovery from a 
state of insensibility. He was unable for some time to recall exactly to 
memory the circumstances which had preceded his fall in the lists, or to 
make out any connected chain of the events in which he had been engaged 
upon the yesterday. A sense of wounds and injury, joined to great weakness 
and exhaustion, was mingled with the recollection of blows dealt and 
received, of steeds rushing upon each other, overthrowing and overthrown - 
of shouts and clashing of arms, and all the heady tumult of a confused 
fight. An effort to draw aside the curtain of his conch was in some degree 
successful, although rendered difficult by the pain of his wound.
To his great surprise he found himself in a room magnificently furnished, 
but having cushions instead of chairs to rest upon, and in other respects 
partaking so much of Oriental costume, that he began to doubt whether he 
had not, during his sleep, been transported back again to the land of 
Palestine. The impression was increased, when, the tapestry being drawn 
aside, a female form, dressed in a rich habit, which partook more of the 
Eastern taste than that of Europe, glided through the door which it 
concealed, and was followed by a swarthy domestic.
As the wounded knight was about to address this fair apparition, she 
imposed silence by placing her slender finger upon her ruby lips, while the 
attendant, approaching him, proceeded to uncover Ivanhoe's side, and the 
lovely Jewess satisfied herself that the bandage was in its place, and the 
wound doing well. She performed her task with a graceful and dignified 
simplicity and modesty, which might, even in more civilised days, have 
served to redeem it from whatever might seem repugnant to female delicacy. 
The idea of so young and beautiful a person engaged in attendance on a sick-
bed, or in dressing the wound of one of a different sex, was melted away 
and lost in that of a beneficent being contributing her effectual aid to 
relieve pain, and to avert the stroke of death. Rebecca's few and brief 
directions were given in the Hebrew language to the old domestic; and he, 
who had been frequently her assistant in similar cases, obeyed them without 
reply.
The accents of an unknown tongue, however harsh they might have sounded 
when uttered by another, had, coming from the beautiful Rebecca, the 
romantic and pleasing effect which fancy ascribes to the charms pronounced 
by some beneficent fairy, unintelligible, indeed, to the ear, but, from the 
sweetness of utterance, and benignity of aspect, which accompanied them, 
touching and affecting to the heart. Without making an attempt at further 
question, Ivanhoe suffered them in silence to take the measures they 
thought most proper for his recovery; and it was not until those were 
completed, and this kind physician about to retire. that his curiosity 
could no longer be suppressed. - "Gentle maiden," be began in the Arabian 
tongue, with which his Eastern travels had rendered him familiar, and which 
he thought most likely to be understood by the turbaned and caftan'd damsel 
who stood before him - "I pray you, gentle maiden, of your courtesy - "
But here he was interrupted by his fair physician, a smile which she could 
scarce suppress dimpling for an instant a face, whose general expression 
was that of contemplative melancholy. "I am of England, Sir Knight, and 
speak the English tongue, although my dress and my lineage belong to 
another climate."
"Noble damsel," - again the Knight of Ivanhoe began; and again Rebecca 
hastened to interrupt him.
"Bestow not on me, Sir Knight," she said, "the epithet of noble. It is well 
you should speedily know that your handmaiden is a poor Jewess, the 
daughter of that Isaac of York, to whom you were so lately a good and kind 
lord. It well becomes him, and those of his household, to render to you 
such careful tendance as your present state necessarily demands."
I know not whether the fair Rowena would have been altogether satisfied 
with the species of emotion with which her devoted knight had hitherto 
gazed on the beautiful features, and fair form, and lustrous eyes, of the 
lovely Rebecca; eyes whose brilliancy was shaded, and, as it were, 
mellowed, by the fringe of her long silken eyelashes, and which a minstrel 
would have compared to the evening star darting its rays through a bower of 
jessamine. But Ivanhoe was too good a Catholic to retain the same class of 
feelings towards a Jewess. This Rebecca had foreseen, and for this very 
purpose she had hastened to mention her father's name and lineage; yet - 
for the fair and wise daughter of Isaac was not without a touch of female 
weakness - she could not but sigh internally when the glance of respectful 
admiration, not altogether unmixed with tenderness, with which Ivanhoe had 
hitherto regarded his unknown benefactress, was exchanged at once for a 
manner cold, composed, and collected, and fraught with no deeper feeling 
than that which expressed a grateful sense of courtesy received from an 
unexpected quarter, and from one of an inferior race. It was not that 
Ivanhoe's former carriage expressed more than that general devotional 
homage which youth always pays to beauty; yet it was mortifying that one 
word should operate as a spell to remove poor Rebecca, who could not be 
supposed altogether ignorant of her title to such homage, into a degraded 
class, to whom it could not be honourably rendered.
But the gentleness and candour of Rebecca's nature imputed no fault to 
Ivanhoe for sharing in the universal prejudices of his age and religion. On 
the contrary the fair Jewess, though sensible her patient now regarded her 
as one of a race of reprobation, with whom it was disgraceful to hold any 
beyond the most necessary intercourse, ceased not to pay the same patient 
and devoted attention to his safety and convalescence. She informed him of 
the necessity they were under of removing to York, and of her father's 
resolution to transport him thither, and tend him in his own house until 
his health should be restored. Ivanhoe expressed great repugnance to this 
plan, which he grounded on unwillingness to give farther trouble to his 
benefactors.
"Was there not," he said, "in Ashby, or near it, some Saxon franklin, or 
even some wealthy peasant, who would endure the burden of a wounded 
countryman's residence with him until he should be again able to bear his 
armour? - Was there no convent of Saxon endowment, where he could be 
received? - Or could he not be transported as far as Burton, where he was 
sure to find hospitality with Waltheoff, the Abbot of St Withold's, to whom 
he was related?"
"Any, the worst of these harbourages," said Rebecca, with a melancholy 
smile, "would unquestionably be more fitting for your residence than the 
abode of a despised Jew; yet, Sir Knight, unless you would dismiss your 
physician, you cannot change your lodging. Our nation, as you well know, 
can cure wounds, though we deal not in inflicting them; and in our own 
family, in particular, are secrets which have been handed down since the 
days of Solomon, and of which you have already experienced the advantages. 
No Nazarene - I crave your forgiveness, Sir Knight - no Christian leech, 
within the four seas of Britain, could enable you to bear your corslet 
within a month."
"And how soon wilt thou enable me to brook it?" said Ivanhoe, impatiently.
"Within eight days, if thou wilt be patient and conformable to my 
directions," replied Rebecca.
"By Our Blessed Lady," said Wilfred, "if it be not a sin to name her here, 
it is no time for me or any true knight to be bedridden; and if thou 
accomplish thy promise, maiden, I will pay thee with my casque full of 
crowns, come by them as I may."
"I will accomplish my promise," said Rebecca, and thou shalt bear thine 
armour on the eighth day from hence, if thou will grant me but one boon in 
the stead of the silver thou dost promise me."
'If it be within my power, and such as a true Christian knight may yield to 
one of thy people," replied Ivanhoe, "I will grant thy boon blithely and 
thankfully."
"Nay," answered Rebecca, "I will but pray of thee to believe henceforward 
that a Jew may do good service to a Christian, without desiring other 
guerdon than the blessing of the Great Father who made both Jew and 
Gentile."
"It were sin to doubt it, maiden," replied Ivanhoe; "and I repose myself on 
thy skill without further scruple or question, well trusting you will 
enable me to bear my corslet on the eighth day. And now, my kind leech, let 
me enquire of the news abroad. What of the noble Saxon Cedric and his 
household? - what of the lovely Lady - " He stopped, as if unwilling to 
speak Rowena's name in the house of a Jew - "Of her, I mean, who was named 
Queen of the tournament?"
"And who was selected by you, Sir Knight, to hold that dignity, with 
judgement which was admired as much as your valour," replied Rebecca.
The blood which Ivanhoe had lost did not prevent a flush from crossing his 
cheek, feeling that he had incautiously betrayed a deep interest in Rowena 
by the awkward attempt he had made to conceal it."
"It was less of her I would speak," said he, "than of Prince John; and I 
would fain know somewhat of a faithful squire, and why he now attends me 
not?"
"Let me use my authority as a leech," answered Rebecca, "and enjoin you to 
keep silence, and avoid agitating reflections, whilst I apprise you of what 
you desire to know. Prince John hath broken off the tournament, and set 
forward in all haste towards York, with the nobles, knights, and churchmen 
of his party, after collecting such sums as they could wring, by fair means 
or foul, from those who are esteemed the wealthy of the land. It is said be 
designs to assume his brother's crown."
"Not without a blow struck in its defence," said Ivanhoe, raising himself 
upon the couch, "if there were but one true subject in England I will fight 
for Richard's title with the best of them - ay, one or two, in his just 
quarrel!"
"But that you may be able to do so," said Rebecca touching his shoulder 
with her hand, "you must now observe my directions, and remain quiet."
"True, maiden," said Ivanhoe, "as quiet as these disquieted times will 
permit - And of Cedric and his household?"
"His steward came but brief while since," said the Jewess, "panting with 
haste, to ask my father for certain monies, the price of wool the growth of 
Cedric's flocks, and from him I learned that Cedric and Athelstane of 
Coningsburgh had left Prince John's lodging in high displeasure, and were 
about to set forth on their return homeward."
"Went any lady with them to the banquet?" said Wilfred.
"The Lady Rowena," said Rebecca, answering the question with more precision 
than it had been asked - "The Lady Rowena went not to the Prince's feast, 
and, as the steward reported to us, she is now on her journey back to 
Rotherwood, with her guardian Cedric. And touching your faithful squire 
Gurth - "
"Ha!" exclaimed the knight, "knowest thou his name? - But thou dost," he 
immediately added, "and well thou mayst, for it was from thy hand, and, as 
I am now convinced, from thine own generosity of spirit, that he received 
but yesterday a hundred zecchins."
"Speak not of that," said Rebecca, blushing deeply; "I see how easy it is 
for the tongue to betray what the heart would gladly conceal."
"But this sum of gold," said Ivanhoe, gravely, "my honour is concerned in 
repaying it to your father."
"Let it be as thou wilt," said Rebecca, "when eight days have passed away; 
but think not, and speak not now, of aught that may retard thy recovery."
"Be it so, kind maiden," said Ivanhoe; "I were most ungrateful to dispute 
thy commands. But one word of the fate of poor Gurth, and I have done with 
questioning thee."
"I grieve to tell thee, Sir Knight," answered the Jewess, " that he is in 
custody by the order of Cedric." - And then observing the distress which 
her communication gave to Wilfred, she instantly added, "But the steward 
Oswald said, that if nothing occurred to renew his master's displeasure 
against him, he was sure that Cedric would pardon Gurth, a faithful serf, 
and one who stood high in favour, and who had but committed this error out 
of the love which he bore to Cedric's son. And he said, moreover, that he 
and his comrades, and especially Wamba the Jester, were resolved to warn 
Gurth to make his escape by the way, in case Cedric's ire against him could 
not be mitigated."
"Would to God they may keep their purpose!" said Ivanhoe; "but it seems as 
if I were destined to bring ruin on whomsoever hath shown kindness to me. 
My king, by whom I was honoured and distinguished, thou seest that the 
brother most indebted to him is raising his arms to grasp his crown; - my 
regard hath brought restraint and trouble on the fairest of her sex; - and 
now my father in his mood may slay this poor bondsman but for his love and 
loyal service to me! - Thou seest, maiden, what an ill-fated wretch thou 
dost labour to assist; be wise, and let me go, ere the misfortunes which 
track my footsteps like slot-hounds, shall involve thee also in their 
pursuit."
"Nay," said Rebecca, "thy weakness and thy grief, Sir Knight, make thee 
miscalculate the purposes of Heaven. Thou hast been restored to thy country 
when it most needed the assistance of a strong hand and a true heart, and 
thou hast humbled the pride of thine enemies and those of thy king, when 
their horn was most highly exalted. and for the evil which thou hast 
sustained, seest thou not that Heaven has raised thee a helper and a 
physician, even among the most despised of the land? - Therefore, be of 
good courage, and trust that thou art preserved for some marvel which thine 
arm shall work before this people. Adieu - and having taken the medicine 
which I shall send thee by the hand of Reuben, compose thyself again to 
rest, that thou mayst be the more able to endure the journey on the 
succeeding day."
Ivanhoe was convinced by the reasoning, and obeyed the directions, of 
Rebecca. The drought which Reuben administered was of a sedative and 
narcotic quality, and secured the patient sound and undisturbed slumbers. 
In the morning his kind physician found him entirely free from feverish 
symptoms, and fit to undergo the fatigue of a journey.
He was deposited in the horse-litter which had brought him from the lists, 
and every precaution taken for his travelling with ease. In one 
circumstance only even the entreaties of Rebecca were unable to secure 
sufficient attention to the accommodation of the wounded knight. Isaac, 
like the enriched traveller of Juvenal's tenth satire, had ever the fear of 
robbery before his eyes, conscious that he would be alike accounted fair 
game by the marauding Norman noble, and by the Saxon outlaw. He therefore 
journeyed at a great rate, and made short halts, and shorter repasts, so 
that he passed by Cedric and Athelstane who had several hours the start of 
him, but who had been delayed by their protracted feasting at the convent 
of Saint Withold's. Yet such was the virtue of Miriam's balsam, or such the 
strength of Ivanhoe's constitution, that he did not sustain from the 
hurried journey that inconvenience which his kind physician had 
apprehended.
In another point of view, however, the Jew's haste proved somewhat more 
than good speed. The rapidity with which he insisted on travelling, bred 
several disputes between him and the party whom he had hired to attend him 
as a guard. These men were Saxons, and not free by any means from the 
national love of ease and good living which the Normans stigmatised as 
laziness and gluttony. Reversing Shellac's position, they had accepted the 
employment in hopes of feeding upon the wealthy Jew, and were very much 
displeased when they found themselves disappointed, by the rapidity with 
which he insisted on their proceeding. They remonstrated also upon the risk 
of damage to their horses by these forced marches. Finally, there arose 
betwixt Isaac and his satellites a deadly feud, concerning the quantity of 
wine and ale to be allowed for consumption at each meal. And thus it 
happened, that when the alarm of danger approached, and that which Isaac 
feared was likely to come upon him, he was deserted by the discontented 
mercenaries on whose protection he had relied, without using the means 
necessary to secure their attachment.
In this deplorable condition the Jew, with his daughter and her wounded 
patient, were found by Cedric, as has already been noticed, and soon 
afterwards fell into the power of De Bracy and his confederates. Little 
notice was at first taken of the horse-litter, and it might have remained 
behind but for the curiosity of De Bracy, who looked into it under the 
impression that it might contain the object of his enterprise, for Rowena 
had not unveiled herself. But De Bracy's astonishment was considerable, 
when he discovered that the litter contained a wounded man, who, conceiving 
himself to have fallen into the power of Saxon outlaws, with whom his name 
might be a protection for himself and his friends, frankly avowed himself 
to be Wilfred of Ivanhoe.
The ideas of chivalrous honour, which, amidst his wildness and levity, 
never utterly abandoned De Bracy, prohibited him from doing the knight any 
injury in his defenceless condition, and equally interdicted his betraying 
him to Front-de-Boeuf, who would have had no scruples to put to death, 
under any circumstances, the rival claimant of the fief of Ivanhoe. On the 
other hand, to liberate a suitor preferred by the Lady Rowena, as the 
events of the tournament, and indeed Wilfred's previous banishment from his 
father's house, had made matter of notoriety, was a pitch far above the 
flight of De Bracy's generosity. A middle course betwixt good and evil was 
all which he found himself capable of adopting, and he commanded two of his 
own squires to keep close by the litter, and to suffer no one to approach 
it. If questioned, they were directed by their master to say, that the 
empty litter of the Lady Rowena was employed to transport one of their 
comrades who had been wounded in the scuffle. On arriving at Torquilstone, 
while the Knight Templar and the lord of that castle were each intent upon 
their own schemes, the one on the Jew's treasure, and the other on his 
daughter, De Bracy's squires conveyed Ivanhoe, still under the name of a 
wounded comrade, to a distant apartment. This explanation was accordingly 
returned by these men to Front-de-Boeuf, when he questioned them why they 
did not make for the battlements upon the alarm.
"A wounded companion!" he replied in great wrath and astonishment. "No 
wonder that churls and yeomen wax so presumptuous as even to lay leaguer 
before castles, and that clowns and swineherds send defiances to nobles, 
since men-at-arms have turned sick men's nurses, and Free Companions are 
grown keepers of dying folk's curtains, when the castle is about to be 
assailed. - To the battlements, ye loitering villains!" he exclaimed, 
raising his stentorian voice till the arches around rung again, "to the 
battlements, or I will splinter your bones with this truncheon!"
The men sulkily replied, "that they desired nothing better than to go to 
the battlements, providing Front-de-Boeuf would bear them out with their 
master, who had commanded them to tend the dying man."
"The dying man, knaves!" rejoined the Baron; "I promise thee we shall all 
be dying men an we stand not to it the more stoutly. But I will relieve the 
guard upon this caitiff companion of yours. - Here, Urfried - hag - fiend 
of a Saxon witch - hearest me not? - tend me this bedridden fellow since he 
must needs be tended, whilst these knaves use their weapons. - Here be two 
arblasts, comrades, with windlaces and quarrels - to the barbican with you, 
and see you drive each bolt through a Saxon brain."
The men, who, like most of their description, were fond of enterprise and 
detested inaction, went joyfully to the scene of danger as they were 
commanded, and thus the charge of Ivanhoe was transferred to Urfried, or 
Ulrica. But she, whose brain was burning with remembrance of injuries and 
with hopes of vengeance, was readily induced to devolve upon Rebecca the 
care of her patient.


Chapter 29

		Ascend the watch-tower yonder, valiant soldier,
		Look on the field, and say how goes the battle.
							-- Schiller's - Maid of Orleans.

A moment of peril is often also a moment of open-hearted kindness and 
affection. We are thrown off our guard by the general agitation of our 
feelings, and betray the intensity of those, which, at more tranquil 
periods, our prudence at least conceals, if it cannot altogether suppress 
them. In finding herself once more by the side of Ivanhoe, Rebecca was 
astonished at the keen sensation of pleasure which she experienced, even at 
a time when all around them both was danger, if not despair. As she felt 
his pulse, and enquired after his health, there was a softness in her touch 
and in her accents implying a kinder interest than she would herself have 
been pleased to have voluntarily expressed. Her voice faltered and her hand 
trembled, and it was only the cold question of Ivanhoe, "Is it you, gentle 
maiden?" which recalled her to herself, and reminded her the sensations 
which she felt were not and could not be mutual. A sigh escaped, but it was 
scarce audible; and the questions which she asked the knight concerning his 
state of health were put in the tone of calm friendship. Ivanhoe answered 
her hastily that he was, in point of health, as well, and better than he 
could have expected - "Thanks," he said, "dear Rebecca, to thy helpful 
skill."
"He calls me dear Rebecca," said the maiden to herself, "but it is in the 
cold and careless tone which ill suits the word. His war-horse - his 
hunting hound, are dearer to him than the despised Jewess!"
"My mind, gentle maiden," continued Ivanhoe, "is more disturbed by anxiety, 
than my body with pain. From the speeches of those men who were my warders 
just now, I learn that I am a prisoner, and, if I judge aright of the loud 
hoarse voice which even now dispatched them hence on some military duty, I 
am in the castle of Front-de-Boeuf - If so, how will this end, or how can I 
protect Rowena and my father?"
"He names not the Jew or Jewess," said Rebecca internally; "yet what is our 
portion in him, and how justly am I punished by Heaven for letting my 
thoughts dwell upon him!" She hastened after this brief self-accusation to 
give Ivanhoe what information she could; but it amounted only to this, that 
the Templar Bois-Guilbert, and the Baron Front-de-Boeuf, were commanders 
within the castle; that it was beleaguered from without, but by whom she 
knew not. She added, that there was a Christian priest within the castle 
who might be possessed of more information.
"A Christian priest!" said the knight, joyfully; "fetch him hither, 
Rebecca, if thou canst - say a sick man desires his ghostly counsel - say 
what thou wilt, but bring him - something I must do or attempt, but how can 
I determine until I know how matters stand without?"
Rebecca in compliance with the wishes of Ivanhoe, made that attempt to 
bring Cedric into the wounded Knight's chamber, which was defeated as we 
have already seen by the interference of Urfried, who had also been on the 
watch to intercept the supposed monk. Rebecca retired to communicate to 
Ivanhoe the result of her errand.
They had not much leisure to regret the failure of this source of 
intelligence, or to contrive by what means it might be supplied; for the 
noise within the castle, occasioned by the defensive preparations which had 
been considerable for some time, now increased into tenfold bustle and 
clamour. The heavy, yet hasty step of the men-at-arms, traversed the 
battlements or resounded on the narrow and winding passages and stairs 
which led to the various bartizans and points of defence. The voices of the 
knights were heard, animating their followers, or directing means of 
defence, while their commands were often drowned in the clashing of armour, 
or the clamorous shouts of those whom they addressed. Tremendous as these 
sounds were, and yet more terrible from the awful event which they 
presaged, there was a sublimity mixed with them, which Rebecca's high-toned 
mind could feel even in that moment of terror. Her eye kindled, although 
the blood fled from her cheeks; and there was a strong mixture of fear, and 
of a thrilling sense of the sublime, as she repeated, half whispering to 
herself, half speaking to her companion, the sacred text, - "The quiver 
rattleth - the glittering spear and the shield - the noise of the captains 
and the shouting!"
But Ivanhoe was like the war-horse of that sublime passage, glowing with 
impatience at his inactivity, and with his ardent desire to mingle in the 
affray of which these sounds were the introduction. "If I could but drag 
myself," he said, "to yonder window, that I might see how this brave game 
is like to go - If I had but bow to shoot a shaft, or battle-axe to strike 
were it but a single blow for our deliverance! - It is in vain - it is in 
vain - I am alike nerveless and weaponless!"
"Fret not thyself, noble knight," answered Rebecca, "the sounds have ceased 
of a sudden - it may be they join not battle."
"Thou knowest nought of it," said Wilfred, impatiently; "this dead pause 
only shows that the men are at their posts on the walls, and expecting an 
instant attack; what we have heard was but the instant muttering of the 
storm - it will burst anon in all its fury. - Could I but reach yonder 
window!"
"Thou wilt but injure thyself by the attempt, noble knight," replied his 
attendant. Observing his extreme solicitude, she firmly added, "I myself 
will stand at the lattice, and describe to you as I can what passes 
without."
"You must not - you shall not!" exclaimed Ivanhoe; "each lattice, each 
aperture, will be soon a mark for the archers; some random shaft - "
"It shall be welcome!" murmured Rebecca, as with firm pace she ascended two 
or three steps, which led to the window of which they spoke.
"Rebecca, dear Rebecca!" exclaimed Ivanhoe, "this is no maiden's pastime - 
do not expose thyself to wounds and death, and render me for ever miserable 
for having given the occasion; at least, cover thyself with yonder ancient 
buckler, and show as little of your person at the lattice as may be."
Following with wonderful promptitude the directions of Ivanhoe, and 
availing herself of the protection of the large ancient shield, which she 
placed against the lower part of the window, Rebecca, with tolerable 
security to herself, could witness part of what was passing without the 
castle, and report to Ivanhoe the preparations which the assailants were 
making for the storm. Indeed the situation which she thus obtained was 
peculiarly favourable for this purpose, because, being placed on an angle 
of the main building, Rebecca could not only see what passed beyond the 
precincts of the castle, but also commanded a view of the outwork likely to 
be the first object of the meditated assault. It was an exterior 
fortification of no great height or strength, intended to protect the 
postern-gate, through which Cedric had been recently dismissed by Front-de-
Boeuf. The castle moat divided this species of barbican from the rest of 
the fortress, so that, in case of its being taken, it was easy to cut off 
the communication with the main building, by withdrawing the temporary 
bridge. In the outwork was a sallyport corresponding to the postern of the 
castle, and the whole was surrounded by a strong palisade. Rebecca could 
observe, from the number of men placed for the defence of this post, that 
the besieged entertained apprehensions for its safety; and from the 
mustering of the assailants in a direction nearly opposite to the outwork, 
it seemed no less plain that it had been selected as a vulnerable point of 
attack.
These appearances she hastily communicated to Ivanhoe, and added, "The 
skirts of the wood seem lined with archers, although only a few are 
advanced from its dark shadow."
"Under what banner?" asked Ivanhoe.
"Under no ensign of war which I can observe," answered Rebecca.
"A singular novelty," muttered the knight, "to advance to storm such a 
castle without pennon or banner displayed! - Seest thou who they be that 
act as leaders?"
"A knight, clad in sable armour, is the most conspicuous," said the Jewess; 
"he alone is armed from head to heel, and seems to assume the direction of 
all around him."
"What device does he bear on his shield?" replied Ivanhoe.
"Something resembling a bar of iron, and a padlock painted blue on the 
black shield."
"A fetterlock and shackle-bolt azure," said Ivanhoe; "I know not who may 
bear the device, but well I ween it might now be mine own. Canst thou not 
see the motto?"
"Scarce the device itself at this distance," replied Rebecca; "but when the 
sun glances fair upon his shield, it shows as I tell you."
"Seem there no other leaders?" exclaimed the anxious enquirer.
"None of mark and distinction that I can behold from this station," said 
Rebecca; "but, doubtless, the other side of the castle is also assailed. 
They appear even now preparing to advance - God of Zion, protect us! - What 
a dreadful sight! - Those who advance first bear huge shields and defences 
made of plank; the others follow, bending their bows as they come on. - 
They raise their bows! - God of Moses, forgive the creatures thou hast 
made!"
Her description was here suddenly interrupted by the signal for assault, 
which was given by the blast of a shrill bugle, and at once answered by a 
flourish of the Norman trumpets from the battlements, which, mingled with 
the deep and hollow clang of the nakers, (a species of kettle-drum,) 
retorted in notes of defiance the challenge of the enemy. The shouts of 
both parties augmented the fearful din, the assailants crying, "Saint 
George for merry England!" and the Normans answering them with loud cries 
of "En avant De Bracy! - Beau-seant! Beau-seant! - Front-de-Boeuf a la 
rescousse!" according to the war-cries of their different commanders.
It was not, however, by clamour that the contest was to be decided, and the 
desperate efforts of the assailants were met by an equally vigorous defence 
on the part of the besieged. The archers, trained by their woodland 
pastimes to the most effective use of the long-bow, shot, to use the 
appropriate phrase of the time, so "wholly together," that no point at 
which a defender could show the least part of his person, escaped their 
cloth-yard shafts. By this heavy discharge, which continued as thick and 
sharp as hail, while, notwithstanding, every arrow had its individual aim, 
and flew by scores together against each embrasure and opening in the 
parapets, as well as at every window where a defender either occasionally 
had post, or might be suspected to be stationed, - by this sustained 
discharge, two or three of the garrison were slain, and several others 
wounded. But, confident in their armour of proof, and in the cover which 
their situation afforded, the followers of Front-de-Boeuf, and his allies, 
showed an obstinacy in defence proportioned to the fury of the attack and 
replied with the discharge of their large cross-bows, as well as with their 
long-bows, slings, and other missile weapons, to the close and continued 
shower of arrows; and, as the assailants were necessarily but indifferently 
protected, did considerably more damage than they received at their hand. 
The whizzing of shafts and of missiles, on both sides, was only interrupted 
by the shouts which arose when either side inflicted or sustained some 
notable loss.
"And I must lie here like a bedridden monk," exclaimed Ivanhoe, "while the 
game that gives me freedom or death is played out by the hand of others! - 
Look from the window once again, kind maiden, but beware that you are not 
marked by the archers beneath - Look out once more, and tell me if they yet 
advance to the storm."
With patient courage, strengthened by the interval which she had employed 
in mental devotion, Rebecca again took post at the lattice, sheltering 
herself, however, so as not to be visible from beneath.
"What dost thou see, Rebecca?" again demanded the wounded knight.
"Nothing but the cloud of arrows flying so thick as to dazzle mine eyes, 
and to hide the bowmen who shoot them."
"That cannot endure," said Ivanhoe; "if they press not right on to carry 
the castle by pure force of arms, the archery may avail but little against 
stone walls and bulwarks. Look for the Knight of the Fetterlock, fair 
Rebecca, and see how he bears himself; for as the leader is, so will his 
followers be."
"I see him not," said Rebecca.
"Foul craven!" exclaimed Ivanhoe; "does he blench from the helm when the 
wind blows highest?"
"He blenches not! he blenches not!" said Rebecca, "I see him now; he leads 
a body of men close under the outer barrier of the barbican. - They pull 
down the piles and palisades; they hew down the barriers with axes. - His 
high black plume floats abroad over the throng, like a raven over the field 
of the slain. - They have made a breach in the barriers - they rush in - 
they are thrust back! - Front-de-Boeuf heads the defenders; I see his 
gigantic form above the press. They throng again to the breach, and the 
pass is disputed hand to hand, and man to man. God of Jacob! it is the 
meeting of two fierce tides - the conflict of two oceans moved by adverse 
winds!"
She turned her head from the lattice, as if unable longer to endure a sight 
so terrible.
"Look forth again, Rebecca," said Ivanhoe, mistaking the cause of her 
retiring; "the archery must in some degree have ceased, since they are now 
fighting hand to hand. - Look again, there is now less danger."
Rebecca again looked forth, and almost immediately exclaimed, "Holy 
prophets of the law! Front-de-Boeuf and the Black Knight fight hand to hand 
on the breach, amid the roar of their followers, who watch the progress of 
the strife - Heaven strike with the cause of the oppressed and of the 
captive!" She then uttered a loud shriek, and exclaimed, "He is down! - he 
is down!"
"Who is down?" cried Ivanhoe; "for our dear Lady's sake, tell me which has 
fallen?"
"The Black Knight," answered Rebecca, faintly; then instantly again shouted 
with joyful eagerness - "But no - but no! - the name of the Lord of Hosts 
be blessed! - he is on foot again, and fights as if there were twenty men's 
strength in his single arm - His sword is broken - he snatches an axe from 
a yeoman - he presses Front-de-Boeuf with blow on blow - The giant stoops 
and totters like an oak under the steel of the woodman - he falls - he 
falls!"
"Front-de-Boeuf?" exclaimed Ivanhoe.
"Front-de-Boeuf!" answered the Jewess; "his men rush to the rescue, headed 
by the haughty Templar - their united force compels the champion to pause - 
They drag Front-de-Boeuf within the walls."
"The assailants have won the barriers, have they not?" said Ivanhoe.
"They have - they have!" exclaimed Rebecca - "and they press the besieged 
hard upon the outer wall; some plant ladders, some swarm like bees, and 
endeavour to ascend upon the shoulders of each other - down go stones, 
beams, and trunks of trees upon their heads, and as fast as they bear the 
wounded to the rear, fresh men supply their places in the assault - Great 
God! hast thou given men thine own image, that it should be thus cruelly 
defaced by the hands of their brethren!"
"Think not of that," said Ivanhoe; "this is no time for such thoughts - Who 
yield? - who push their way?"
"The ladders are thrown down," replied Rebecca, shuddering; "the soldiers 
lie grovelling under them like crushed reptiles - The besieged have the 
better."
"Saint George strike for us!" exclaimed the knight; "do the false yeomen 
give way?"
"No!" exclaimed Rebecca, "they bear themselves right yeomanly - the Black 
Knight approaches the postern with his huge axe - the thundering blows 
which he deals, you may hear them above all the din and shouts of the 
battle - Stones and beams are hailed down on the bold champion - he regards 
them no more than if they were thistle-down or feathers!"
"By Saint John of Acre," said Ivanhoe, raising himself joyfully on his 
couch, "methought there was but one man in England that might do such a 
deed!"
"The postern gate shakes," continued Rebecca; "it crashes - it is 
splintered by his blows - they rush in - the outwork is won - Oh, God! - 
they hurl the defenders from the battlements - they throw them into the 
moat - O men, if ye be indeed men, spare them that can resist no longer!"
"The bridge - the bridge which communicates with the castle - have they won 
that pass?" exclaimed Ivanhoe.
"No," replied Rebecca, "The Templar has destroyed the plank on which they 
crossed - few of the defenders escaped with him into the castle - the 
shrieks and cries which you hear tell the fate of the others - Alas! - I 
see it is still more difficult to look upon victory than upon battle."
"What do they now, maiden?" said Ivanhoe; "look forth yet again - this is 
no time to faint at bloodshed."
"It is over for the time," answered Rebecca; "our friends strengthen 
themselves within the outwork which they have mastered, and it affords them 
so good a shelter from the foemen's shot, that the garrison only bestow a 
few bolts on it from interval to interval, as if rather to disquiet than 
effectually to injure them."
"Our friends," said Wilfred, "will surely not abandon an enterprise so 
gloriously begun and so happily attained. - O no! I will put my faith in 
the good knight whose axe hath rent heart-of-oak and bars of iron. - 
Singular," he again muttered to himself, "if there be two who can do a deed 
of such derring-do! - a fetterlock, and a shacklebolt on a field sable - 
what may that mean? - seest thou nought else, Rebecca, by which the Black 
Knight may be distinguished?"
"Nothing," said the Jewess; "all about him is black as the wing of the 
night raven. Nothing can I spy that can mark him further - but having once 
seen him put forth his strength in battle, methinks I could know him again 
among a thousand warriors. He rushes to the fray as if he were summoned to 
a banquet. There is more than mere strength, there seems as if the whole 
soul and spirit of the champion were given to every blow which he deals 
upon his enemies. God assoilzie him of the sin of bloodshed! - it is 
fearful, yet magnificent, to behold bow the arm and heart of one man can 
triumph over hundreds."
"Rebecca," said Ivanhoe, "thou hast painted a hero; surely they rest but to 
refresh their force, or to provide the means of crossing the moat - Under 
such a leader as thou hast spoken this knight to be, there are no craven 
fears, no cold-blooded delays, no yielding up a gallant emprize; since the 
difficulties which render it arduous render it also glorious. I swear by 
the honour of my house - I vow by the name of my bright lady-love, I would 
endure ten years' captivity to fight one day by that good knight's side in 
such a quarrel as this!"
"Alas," said Rebecca, leaving her station at the window, and approaching 
the couch of the wounded knight, "this impatient yearning after action - 
this struggling with and repining at your present weakness, will not fail 
to injure your returning health - How couldst thou hope to inflict wounds 
on others, ere that be healed which thou thyself hast received?"
"Rebecca," he replied, "thou knowest not how impossible it is for one 
trained to actions of chivalry to remain passive as a priest, or a woman, 
when they are acting deeds of honour around him. The love of battle is the 
food upon which we live - the dust of the melee is the breath of our 
nostrils! We live not - we wish not to live - longer than while we are 
victorious and renowned - Such, maiden, are the laws of chivalry to which 
we are sworn, and to which we offer all that we hold dear."
"Alas!" said the fair Jewess, "and what is it, valiant knight, save an 
offering of sacrifice to a demon of vain glory, and a passing through the 
fire to Moloch? - What remains to you as the prize of all the blood you 
have spilled - of all the travail and pain you have endured - of all the 
tears which your deeds have caused, when death hath broken the strong man's 
spear, and overtaken the speed of his war-horse?"
"What remains?" cried Ivanhoe; "Glory, maiden, glory! which gilds our 
sepulchre and embalms our name."
"Glory?" continued Rebecca; "alas, is the rusted mail which hangs as a 
hatchment over the champion's dim and mouldering tomb - is the defaced 
sculpture of the inscription which the ignorant monk can hardly read to the 
enquiring pilgrim - are these sufficient rewards for the sacrifice of every 
kindly affection, for a life spent miserably that ye may make others 
miserable? Or is there such virtue in the rude rhymes of a wandering bard, 
that domestic love, kindly affection, peace and happiness, are so wildly 
bartered, to become the hero of those ballads which vagabond minstrels sing 
to drunken churls over their evening ale?"
"By the soul of Hereward?" replied the knight impatiently, "thou speakest, 
maiden, of thou knowest not what. Thou wouldst quench the pure light of 
chivalry, which alone distinguishes the noble from the base, the gentle 
knight from the churl and the savage; which rates our life far, far beneath 
the pitch of our honour; raises us victorious over pain, toil, and 
suffering, and teaches us to fear no, evil but disgrace. Thou art no 
Christian, Rebecca; and to thee are unknown those high feelings which swell 
the bosom of a noble maiden when her lover hath done some deed of emprize 
which sanctions his flame. Chivalry! - why, maiden, she is the nurse of 
pure and high affection - the stay of the oppressed, the redresser of 
grievances, the curb of the power of the tyrant - Nobility were but an 
empty name without her, and liberty finds the best protection in her lance 
and her sword."
"I am, indeed," said Rebecca, "sprung from a race whose courage was 
distinguished in the defence of their own land, but who warred not, even 
while yet a nation, save at the command of the Deity, or in defending their 
country from oppression. The sound of the trumpet wakes Judah no longer, 
and her despised children are now but the unresisting victims of hostile 
and military oppression. Well hast thou spoken, Sir Knight, - until the God 
of Jacob shall raise up for his chosen people a second Gideon, or a new 
Maccabeus, it ill beseemeth the Jewish damsel to speak of battle or of 
war."
The high-minded maiden concluded the argument in a tone of sorrow, which 
deeply expressed her sense of the degradation of her people, embittered 
perhaps by the idea that Ivanhoe considered her as one not entitled to 
interfere in a case of honour, and incapable of entertaining or expressing 
sentiments of honour and generosity.
"How little he knows this bosom," she said, "to imagine that cowardice or 
meanness of soul must needs be its guests, because I have censured the 
fantastic chivalry of the Nazarenes! Would to heaven that the shedding of 
mine own blood, drop by drop, could redeem the captivity of Judah! Nay, 
would to God it could avail to set free my father, and this his benefactor, 
from the chains of the oppressor! The proud Christian should then see 
whether the daughter of God's chosen people dared not to die as bravely as 
the vainest Nazarene maiden, that boasts her descent from some petty 
chieftain of the rude and frozen north!"
She then looked towards the couch of the wounded knight.
"He sleeps," she said; "nature exhausted by sufferance and the waste of 
spirits, his wearied frame embraces the first moment of temporary 
relaxation to sink into slumber. Alas! is it a crime that I should look 
upon him, when it may be for the last time? - When yet but a short space, 
and those fair features will be no longer animated by the bold and buoyant 
spirit which forsakes them not even in sleep! - When the nostril shall be 
distended, the mouth agape, the eyes fixed and bloodshot; and when the 
proud and noble knight may be trodden on by the lowest caitiff of this 
accursed castle, yet stir not when the heel is lifted up against him! - And 
my father! - oh, my father! evil is it with his daughter, when his grey 
hairs are not remembered because of the golden locks of youth! - What know 
I but that these evils are the messengers of Jehovah's wrath to the 
unnatural child, who thinks of a stranger's captivity before a parent's? 
who forgets the desolation of Judah, and looks upon the comeliness of a 
Gentile and a stranger? - But I will tear this folly from my heart, though 
every fibre bleed as I rend it away!"
She wrapped herself closely in her veil, and sat down at a distance from 
the couch of the wounded knight, with her back turned towards it, 
fortifying, or endeavouring to fortify her mind, not only against the 
impending evils from without, but also against those treacherous feelings 
which assailed her from within.



Chapter 30

			Approach the chamber, look upon his bed.
			His is the passing of no peaceful ghost,
			Which, as the lark arises to the sky,
			'Mid morning's sweetest breeze and softest dew,
			Is wing'd to heaven by good men's sighs and tears! -
			elm parts otherwise.
								-- Old Play.


During the interval of quiet which followed the first success of the 
besiegers, while the one party was preparing to pursue their advantage, and 
the other to strengthen their means of defence, the Templar and De Bracy 
held brief council together in the hall of the castle.
"Where is Front-de-Boeuf?" said the latter, who had superintended the 
defence of the fortress on the other side; "men say he hath been slain."
"He lives," said the Templar, coolly, "lives as yet; but had he worn the 
bull's head of which he bears the name, and ten plates of iron to fence it 
withal, he must have gone down before yonder fatal axe. Yet a few hours, 
and Front-de-Boeuf is with his fathers - a powerful limb lopped off Prince 
John's enterprise."
"And a brave addition to the kingdom of Satan," said De Bracy; "this comes 
of reviling saints and angels, and ordering images of holy things and holy 
men to be flung down on the heads of these rascaille yeomen."
"Go to - thou art a fool," said the Templar; "thy superstition is upon a 
level with Front-de-Boeuf's want of faith; neither of you can render a 
reason for your belief or unbelief."
"Benedicite, Sir Templar," replied De Bracy, "pray you to keep better rule 
with your tongue when I am the theme of it. By the Mother of Heaven, I am a 
better Christian man than thou and thy fellowship; for the bruit goeth 
shrewdly out, that the most holy Order of the Temple of Zion nurseth not a 
few heretics within its bosom, and that Sir Brian de Bois-Guilbert is of 
the number."
"Care not thou for such reports," said the Templar; "but let us think of 
making good the castle. - How fought these villain yeomen on thy side?"
"Like fiends incarnate," said De Bracy. "They swarmed close up to the 
walls, headed, as I think, by the knave who won the prize at the archery, 
for I knew his horn and baldric. And this is old Fitzurse's boasted policy, 
encouraging these malapert knaves to rebel against us! Had I not been armed 
in proof, the villain had marked me down seven times with as little remorse 
as if I had been a buck in season. He told every rivet on my armour with a 
cloth-yard shaft, that rapped against my ribs with as little compunction as 
if my bones had been of iron - But that I wore a shirt of Spanish mail 
under my plate-coat, I had been fairly sped."
"But you maintained your post?" said the Templar. "We lost the outwork on 
our part."
"That is a shrewd loss," said De Bracy; "the knaves will find cover there 
to assault the castle more closely, and may, if not well watched, gain some 
unguarded corner of a tower, or some forgotten window, and so break in upon 
us. Our numbers are too few for the defence of every point, and the men 
complain that they can nowhere show themselves, but they are the mark for 
as many arrows as a parish-butt on a holyday even. Front-de-Boeuf is dying 
too, so we shall receive no more aid from his bull's head and brutal 
strength. How think you, Sir Brian, were we not better make a virtue of 
necessity, and compound with the rogues by delivering up our prisoners?"
"How?" exclaimed the Templar; "deliver up our prisoners, and stand an 
object alike of ridicule and execration, as the doughty warriors who dared 
by a night-attack to possess themselves of the persons of a party of 
defenceless travellers, yet could not make good a strong castle against a 
vagabond troop of outlaws, led by swineherds, jesters, and the very refuse 
of mankind? - Shame on thy counsel, Maurice de Bracy! - The ruins of this 
castle shall bury both my body and my shame, ere I consent to such base and 
dishonourable composition."
"Let us to the walls, then," said De Bracy, carelessly; "that man never 
breathed, be he Turk or Templar, who held life at lighter rate than I do. 
But I trust there is no dishonour in wishing I had here some two scores of 
my gallant troop of Free Companions? - Oh, my brave lances! if ye knew but 
how hard your captain were this day bested, how soon should I see my banner 
at the head of your clump of spears! And how short while would these rabble 
villains stand to endure your encounter!"
"Wish for whom thou wilt," said the Templar, "but let us make what defence 
we can with the soldiers who remain - They are chiefly Front-de-Boeuf's 
followers, hated by the English for a thousand acts of insolence and 
oppression."
"The better," said De Bracy; "the rugged slaves will defend themselves to 
the last drop of their blood, ere they encounter the revenge of the 
peasants without. Let us up and be doing, then, Brian de Bois-Guilbert; 
and, live or die, thou shalt see Maurice de Bracy bear himself this day as 
a gentleman of blood and lineage."
"To the walls!" answered the Templar; and they both ascended the 
battlements to do all that skill could dictate, and manhood accomplish, in 
defence of the place. They readily agreed that the point of greatest danger 
was that opposite to the outwork of which the assailants had possessed 
themselves. The castle, indeed, was divided from that barbican by the moat, 
and it was impossible that the besiegers could assail the postern-door, 
with which the outwork corresponded, without surmounting that obstacle; but 
it was the opinion both of the Templar and De Bracy, that the besiegers, if 
governed by the same policy their leader had already displayed, would 
endeavour, by a formidable assault, to draw the chief part of the 
defenders' observation to this point, and take measures to avail themselves 
of every negligence which might take place in the defence elsewhere. To 
guard against such an evil, their numbers only permitted the knights to 
place sentinels from space to space along the walls in communication with 
each other, who might give the alarm whenever danger was threatened. 
Meanwhile, they agreed that De Bracy should command the defence at the 
postern, and the Templar should keep with him a score of men or thereabouts 
as a body of reserve, ready to hasten to any other point which might be 
suddenly threatened. The loss of the barbican had also this unfortunate 
effect, that, notwithstanding the superior height of the castle walls, the 
besieged could not see from them, with the same precision as before, the 
operations of the enemy; for some straggling underwood approached so near 
the sallyport of the outwork, that the assailants might introduce into it 
whatever force they thought proper, not only under cover, but even without 
the knowledge of the defenders. Utterly uncertain, therefore, upon what 
point the storm was to burst, De Bracy and his companion were under the 
necessity of providing against every possible contingency, and their 
followers, however brave, experienced the anxious dejection of mind 
incident to men enclosed by enemies, who possessed the power of choosing 
their time and mode of attack.
Meanwhile, the lord of the beleaguered and endangered castle lay upon a bed 
of bodily pain and mental agony. He had not the usual resource of bigots in 
that superstitious period, most of whom were wont to atone for the crimes 
they were guilty of by liberality to the church, stupefying by this means 
their terrors by the idea of atonement and forgiveness; and although the 
refuge which success thus purchased, was no more like to the peace of mind 
which follows on sincere repentance, than the turbid stupefaction procured 
by opium resembles healthy and natural slumbers, it was still a state of 
mind preferable to the agonies of awakened remorse. But among the vices of 
Front-de-Boeuf, a hard and griping man, avarice was predominant; and he 
preferred setting church and churchmen at defiance, to purchasing from them 
pardon and absolution at the price of treasure and of manors. Nor did the 
Templar, an infidel of another stamp, justly characterise his associate, 
when he said Front-de-Boeuf could assign no cause for his unbelief and 
contempt for the established faith; for the Baron would have alleged that 
the Church sold her wares too dear, that the spiritual freedom which she 
put up to sale was only to be bought like that of the chief captain of 
Jerusalem, "with a great sum," and Front-de-Boeuf preferred denying the 
virtue of the medicine, to paying the expense of the physician.
But the moment had now arrived when earth and all his treasures were 
gliding from before his eyes, and when the savage Baron's heart, though 
hard as a nether millstone, became appalled as he gazed forward into the 
waste darkness of futurity. The fever of his body aided the impatience and 
agony of his mind, and his death-bed exhibited a mixture of the newly 
awakened feelings of horror, combating with the fixed and inveterate 
obstinacy of his disposition; - a fearful state of mind, only to be 
equalled in those tremendous regions, where there are complaints without 
hope, remorse without repentance, a dreadful sense of present agony, and a 
presentiment that it cannot cease or be diminished!
"Where be these dog-priests now," growled the Baron, "who set such price on 
their ghostly mummery? - where be all those unshod Carmelites, for whom old 
Front-de-Boeuf founded the convent of St Anne, robbing his heir of many a 
fair rood of meadow, and many a fat field and close - where be the greedy 
hounds now? - Swilling, I warrant me, at the ale, or playing their juggling 
tricks at the bedside of some miserly churl. - Me, the heir of their 
founder - me, whom their foundation binds them to pray for - me - 
ungrateful villains as they are! - they suffer to die like the houseless 
dog on yonder common, unshriven and unhouseled! - Tell the Templar to come 
hither - he is a priest, and may do something - But no! - as well confess 
myself to the devil as to Brian de Bois-Guilbert, who recks neither of 
heaven nor of hell. - I have heard old men talk of prayer - prayer by their 
own voice - Such need not to court or to bribe the false priest - But I - I 
dare not!"
"Lives Reginald Front-de-Boeuf," said a broken and shrill voice close by 
his bedside, "to say there is that which he dares not!"
The evil conscience and the shaken nerves of Front-de-Boeuf heard, in this 
strange interruption to his soliloquy, the voice of one of those demons, 
who, as the superstition of the times believed, beset the beds of dying men 
to distract their thoughts, and turn them from the meditations which 
concerned their eternal welfare. He shuddered and drew himself together; 
but, instantly summoning up his wonted resolution, he exclaimed, "Who is 
there? - what art thou, that darest to echo my words in a tone like that of 
the night-raven? - Come before my couch that I may see thee."
"I am thine evil angel, Reginald Front-de-Boeuf," replied the voice.
"Let me behold thee then in thy bodily shape, if thou best indeed a fiend," 
replied the dying knight; "think not that I will blench from thee. - By the 
eternal dungeon, could I but grapple with these horrors that hover round 
me, as I have done with mortal dangers, heaven or hell should never say 
that I shrunk from the conflict!"
"Think on thy sins, Reginald Front-de-Boeuf," said the almost unearthly 
voice, "on rebellion, on rapine, on murder! - Who stirred up the licentious 
John to war against his grey-headed father - against his generous brother?"
"Be thou fiend, priest, or devil," replied Front-de-Boeuf, "thou liest in 
thy throat! - Not I stirred John to rebellion - not I alone - there were 
fifty knights and barons, the flower of the midland counties - better men 
never laid lance in rest - And must I answer for the fault done by fifty? - 
False fiend, I defy thee! Depart, and haunt my couch no more - let me die 
in peace if thou be mortal - if thou be a demon, thy time is not yet come."
"In peace thou shalt not die," repeated the voice; "even in death shalt 
thou think on thy murders - on the groans which this castle has echoed - on 
the blood that is engrained in its floors!"
"Thou canst not shake me by thy petty malice," answered Front-de-Boeuf, 
with a ghastly and constrained laugh. "The infidel Jew - it was merit with 
heaven to deal with him as I did, else wherefore are men canonised who dip 
their hands in the blood of Saracens? - The Saxon porkers, whom I have 
slain, they were the foes of my country, and of my lineage, and of my liege 
lord. - Ho! ho! thou seest there is no crevice in my coat of plate - Art 
thou fled? - art thou silenced?"
"No, foul parricide!" replied the voice; "think of thy father! - think of 
his death! - think of his banquet-room flooded with his gore, and that 
poured forth by the hand of a son!"
"Ha!" answered the Baron, after a long pause, "an thou knowest that, thou 
art indeed the author of evil, and as omniscient as the monks call thee! - 
That secret I deemed locked in my own breast, and in that of one besides - 
the temptress, the partaker of my guilt. - Go, leave me, fiend! and seek 
the Saxon witch Ulrica, who alone could tell thee what she and I alone 
witnessed. - Go, I say, to her, who washed the wounds, and straighted the 
corpse, and gave to the slain man the outward show of one parted in time 
and in the course of nature - Go to her, she was my temptress, the foul 
provoker, the more foul rewarder, of the deed - let her, as well as I, 
taste of the tortures which anticipate hell!"
"She already tastes them," said Ulrica, stepping before the couch of Front-
de-Boeuf; "she hath long drunken of this cup, and its bitterness is now 
sweetened to see that thou dost partake it. - Grind not thy teeth, Front-de-
Boeuf - roll not thine eyes - clench not thine hand, nor shake it at me 
with that gesture of menace! - The hand which, like that of thy renowned 
ancestor who gained thy name, could have broken with one stroke the skull 
of a mountain-bull, is now unnerved and powerless as mine own!"
"Vile murderous hag!" replied Front-de-Boeuf; "detestable screech-owl! it 
is then thou who art come to exult over the ruins thou hast assisted to lay 
low?"
"Ay, Reginald Front-de-Boeuf," answered she, "it is Ulrica! - it is the 
daughter of the murdered Torquil Wolfganger! - it is the sister of his 
slaughtered sons! - it is she who demands of thee, and of thy father's 
house, father and kindred, name and fame - all that she has lost by the 
name of Front-de-Boeuf! - Think of my wrongs, Front-de-Boeuf, and answer me 
if I speak not truth. Thou hast been my evil angel, and I will be thine - I 
will dog thee till the very instant of dissolution!"
"Detestable fury!" exclaimed Front-de-Boeuf, "that moment shalt thou never 
witness - Ho! Giles, Clement, and Eustace! Saint Maur, and Stephen! seize 
this damned witch, and hurl her from the battlements headlong - she has 
betrayed us to the Saxon! - Ho! Saint Maur! Clement! false-hearted, knaves, 
where tarry ye?"
"Call on them again, valiant Baron," said the hag, with a smile of grisly 
mockery; "summon thy vassals around thee, doom them that loiter to the 
scourge and the dungeon - But know, mighty chief," she continued, suddenly 
changing her tone, "thou shalt have neither answer, nor aid, nor obedience 
at their hands. - Listen to these horrid sounds," for the din of the 
recommenced assault and defence now rung fearfully loud from the 
battlements of the castle; "in that war-cry is the downfall of thy house - 
The blood-cemented fabric of Front-de-Boeuf's power totters to the 
foundation, and before the foes he most despised! - The Saxon, Reginald! - 
the scorned Saxon assails thy walls! - Why liest thou here, like a worn-out 
hind, when the Saxon storms thy place of strength?"
"Gods and fiends!" exclaimed the wounded knight; "O, for one moment's 
strength, to drag myself to the melee, and perish as becomes my name!"
"Think not of it, valiant warrior!" replied she; "thou shalt die no 
soldier's death, but perish like the fox in his den, when the peasants have 
set fire to the cover around it."
"Hateful hag! thou liest!" exclaimed Front-de-Boeuf; "my followers bear 
them bravely - my walls are strong and high - my comrades in arms fear not 
a whole host of Saxons, were they headed by Hengist and Horsa! - The war-
cry of the Templar and of the Free Companions rises high over the conflict! 
And by mine honour, when we kindle the blazing beacon, for joy of our 
defence, it shall consume thee, body and bones; and I shall live to hear 
thou art gone from earthly fires to those of that hell, which never sent 
forth an incarnate fiend more utterly diabolical!"
"Hold thy belief," replied Ulrica, "till the proof reach thee - But, no!" 
she said, interrupting herself, "thou shalt know, even now, the doom, which 
all thy power, strength, and courage, is unable to avoid, though it is 
prepared for thee by this feeble band. Markest thou the smouldering and 
suffocating vapour which already eddies in sable folds through the chamber? 
- Didst thou think it was but the darkening of thy bursting eyes - the 
difficulty of thy cumbered breathing? - No! Front-de-Boeuf, there is 
another cause - Rememberest thou the magazine of fuel that is stored 
beneath these apartments?"
"Woman!" he exclaimed with fury, "thou hast not set fire to it? - By 
heaven, thou hast, and the castle is in flames!"
"They are fast rising at least," said Ulrica, with frightful composure; 
"and a signal shall soon wave to warn the besiegers to press hard upon 
those who would extinguish them. - Farewell, Front-de-Boeuf! - May Mista, 
Skogula, and Zernebock, gods of the ancient Saxons - fiends, as the priests 
now call them - supply the place of comforters at your dying bed, which 
Ulrica now relinquishes! - But know, if it will give thee comfort to know 
it, that Ulrica is bound to the same dark coast with thyself, the companion 
of thy punishment as the companion of thy guilt. - And now, parricide, 
farewell for ever! - May each stone of this vaulted roof find a tongue to 
echo that title into thine ear!"
So saying, she left the apartment; and Front-de-Boeuf could hear the crash 
of the ponderous key, as she locked and double-locked the door behind her, 
thus cutting off the most slender chance of escape. In the extremity of 
agony he shouted upon his servants and allies - "Stephen and Saint Maur! - 
Clement and Giles! - I burn here unaided! - To the rescue - to the rescue, 
brave Bois-Guilbert, valiant De Bracy! - It is Front-de-Boeuf who calls! - 
It is your master, ye traitor squires! - Your ally - your brother in arms, 
ye perjured and faithless knights! - all the curses due to traitors upon 
your recreant heads, do you abandon me to perish thus miserably! - They 
hear me not - they cannot hear me - my voice is lost in the din of battle. 
- The smoke rolls thicker and thicker - the fire has caught upon the floor 
below - O, for one drought of the air of heaven, were it to be purchased by 
instant annihilation!" And in the mad frenzy of despair, the wretch now 
shouted with the shouts of the fighters, now muttered curses on himself, on 
mankind, and on Heaven itself. - "The red fire flashes through the thick 
smoke!" he exclaimed; "the demon marches against me under the banner of his 
own element - Foul spirit, avoid! - I go not with thee without my comrades 
- all, all are thine, that garrison these walls - Thinkest thou Front-de-
Boeuf will be singled out to go alone? - No - the infidel Templar - the 
licentious De Bracy - Ulrica, the foul murdering strumpet - the men who 
aided my enterprises - the dog Saxons and accursed Jews, who are my 
prisoners - all, all shall attend me - a goodly fellowship as ever took the 
downward road - Ha, ha, ha!" and he laughed in his frenzy till the vaulted 
roof rang again. "Who laughed there?" exclaimed Front-de-Boeuf, in altered 
mood, for the noise of the conflict did not prevent the echoes of his own 
mad laughter from returning upon his ear - "who laughed there? - Ulrica, 
was it thou? - Speak, witch, and I forgive thee - for, only thou or the 
fiend of hell himself could have laughed at such a moment. Avaunt - avaunt! 
- "
But it were impious to trace any farther the picture of the blasphemer and 
parricide's deathbed.


Chapter 31

		Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more,
		Or, close the wall up with our English dead.
		--- And you, good yeomen,
		Whose limbs were made in England, show us here
		The mettle of your pasture - let us swear
		That you are worth your breeding.
							-- King Henry V.


Cedric, although not greatly confident in Ulrica's message, omitted not to 
communicate her promise to the Black Knight and Locksley. They were well 
pleased to find they had a friend within the place, who might, in the 
moment of need, be able to facilitate their entrance, and readily agreed 
with the Saxon that a storm, under whatever disadvantages, ought to be 
attempted, as the only means of liberating the prisoners now in the hands 
of the cruel Front-de-Boeuf.
"The royal blood of Alfred is endangered," said Cedric.
"The honour of a noble lady is in peril," said the Black Knight.
"And, by the Saint Christopher at my baldric," said the good yeoman, "were 
there no other cause than the safety of that poor faithful knave, Wamba, I 
would jeopard a joint ere a hair of his head were hurt."
"And so would I," said the Friar; "what, sirs! I trust well that a fool - I 
mean, d'ye see me, sirs, a fool that is free of his guild and master of his 
craft, and can give as much relish and flavour to a cup of wine as ever a 
flitch of bacon can - I say, brethren, such a fool shall never want a wise 
clerk to pray for or fight for him at a strait, while I can say a mass or 
flourish a partisan."
And with that he made his heavy halberd to play around his head as a 
shepherd boy flourishes his light crook.
"True, Holy Clerk," said the Black Knight, "true as if Saint Dunstan 
himself had said it. - And now, good Locksley, were it not well that noble 
Cedric should assume the direction of this assault?"
"Not a jot I," returned Cedric; "I have never been wont to study either how 
to take or how to hold out those abodes of tyrannic power, which the 
Normans have erected in this groaning land. I will fight among the 
foremost; but my honest neighbours well know I am not a trained soldier in 
the discipline of wars, or the attack of strongholds."
"Since it stands thus with noble Cedric," said Locksley, "I am most willing 
to take on me the direction of the archery; and ye shall hang me up on my 
own Trysting-tree, an the defenders be permitted to show themselves over 
the walls without being stuck with as many shafts as there are cloves in a 
gammon of bacon at Christmas."
"Well said, stout yeoman," answered the Black Knight; "and if I be thought 
worthy to have a charge in these matters, and can find among these brave 
men as many as are willing to follow a true English knight, for so I may 
surely call myself, I am ready, with such skill as my experience has taught 
me, to lead them to the attack of these walls."
The parts being thus distributed to the leaders, they commenced the first 
assault, of which the reader has already heard the issue.
When the barbican was carried, the Sable Knight sent notice of the happy 
event to Locksley, requesting him at the same time, to keep such a strict 
observation on the castle as might prevent the defenders from combining 
their force for a sudden sally, and recovering the outwork which they had 
lost. This the knight was chiefly desirous of avoiding, conscious that the 
men whom he led, being hasty and untrained volunteers, imperfectly armed 
and unaccustomed to discipline, must, upon any sudden attack, fight at 
great disadvantage with the veteran soldiers of the Norman knights, who 
were well provided with arms both defensive and offensive; and who, to 
match the zeal and high spirit of the besiegers, had all the confidence 
which arises from perfect discipline and the habitual use of weapons.
The knight employed the interval in causing to be constructed a sort of 
floating bridge, or long raft, by means of which he hoped to cross the moat 
in despite of the resistance of the enemy. This was a work of some time, 
which the leaders the less regretted, as it gave Ulrica leisure to execute 
her plan of diversion in their favour, whatever that might be.
When the raft was completed, the Black Knight addressed the besiegers: - 
"It avails not waiting here longer, my friends; the sun is descending to 
the west - and I have that upon my hands which will not permit me to tarry 
with you another day. Besides, it will be a marvel if the horsemen come not 
upon us from York, unless we speedily accomplish our purpose. Wherefore, 
one of ye go to Locksley, and bid him commence a discharge of arrows on the 
opposite side of the castle, and move forward as if about to assault it; 
and you, true English hearts, stand by me, and be ready to thrust the raft 
endlong over the moat whenever the postern on our side is thrown open. 
Follow me boldly across, and aid me to burst yon sallyport in the main wall 
of the castle. As many of you as like not this service, or are but ill 
armed to meet it, do you man the top of the outwork, draw your bow-strings 
to your ears, and mind you quell with your shot whatever shall appear to 
man the rampart - Noble Cedric, wilt thou take the direction of those which 
remain?"
"Not so, by the soul of Hereward!" said the Saxon; "lead I cannot; but may 
posterity curse me in my grave, if I follow not with the foremost wherever 
thou shalt point the way - The quarrel is mine, and well it becomes me to 
be in the van of the battle."
"Yet, bethink thee, noble Saxon," said the knight, "thou hast neither 
hauberk, nor corslet, nor aught but that light helmet, target, and sword."
"The better!" answered Cedric; "I shall be the lighter to climb these 
walls. And, - forgive the boast, Sir Knight, - thou shalt this day see the 
naked breast of a Saxon as boldly presented to the battle as ever ye beheld 
the steel corslet of a Norman."
"In the name of God, then," said the knight, "fling open the door, and 
launch the floating bridge."
The portal, which led from the inner-wall of the barbican to the moat, and 
which corresponded with a sallyport in the main wall of the castle, was now 
suddenly opened; the temporary bridge was then thrust forward, and soon 
flashed in the waters, extending its length between the castle and outwork, 
and forming a slippery and precarious passage for two men abreast to cross 
the moat. Well aware of the importance of taking the foe by surprise, the 
Black Knight, closely followed by Cedric, threw himself upon the bridge, 
and reached the opposite side. Here he began to thunder with his axe upon 
the gate of the castle, protected in part from the shot and stones cast by 
the defenders by the ruins of the former drawbridge, which the Templar had 
demolished in his retreat from the barbican, leaving the counterpoise still 
attached to the upper part of the portal. The followers of the knight had 
no such shelter; two were instantly shot with cross-bow bolts, and two more 
fell into the moat; the others retreated back into the barbican.
The situation of Cedric and of the Black Knight was now truly dangerous, 
and would have been still more so, but for the constancy of the archers in 
the barbican, who ceased not to shower their arrows upon the battlements, 
distracting the attention of those by whom they were manned, and thus 
affording a respite to their two chiefs from the storm of missiles which 
must otherwise have overwhelmed them. But their situation was eminently 
perilous, and was becoming more so with every moment.
"Shame on ye all!" cried De Bracy to the soldiers around him; "do ye call 
yourselves cross-bowmen, and let these two dogs keep their station under 
the walls of the castle? - Heave over the coping stones from the 
battlements, an better may not be - Get pick-axe and levers, and down with 
that huge pinnacle!" pointing to a heavy piece of stone carved-work that 
projected from the parapet.
At this moment the besiegers caught sight of the red flag upon the angle of 
the tower which Ulrica had described to Cedric. The stout yeoman Locksley 
was the first who was aware of it, as he was hasting to the outwork, 
impatient to see the progress of the assault.
"Saint George!" he cried, "Merry Saint George for England! - To the charge, 
bold yeomen! - why leave ye the good knight and noble Cedric to storm the 
pass alone? - make in, mad priest, show thou canst fight for thy rosary, - 
make in, brave yeomen! - the castle is ours, we have friends within - See 
yonder flag, it is the appointed signal - Torquilstone is ours! - Think of 
honour, think of spoil - One effort, and the place is ours!"
With that he bent his good bow, and sent a shaft right through the breast 
of one of the men-at-arms, who, under De Bracy's direction, was loosening a 
fragment from one of the battlements to precipitate on the heads of Cedric 
and the Black Knight. A second soldier caught from the hands of the dying 
man the iron crow, with which he heaved at and had loosened the stone 
pinnacle, when, receiving an arrow through his head-piece, he dropped from 
the battlements into the moat a dead man. The men-at-arms were daunted, for 
no armour seemed proof against the shot of this tremendous archer.
"Do you give ground, base knaves!" said De Bracy; "Mount joye Saint Dennis! 
- Give me the lever!"
And, snatching it up, he again assailed the loosened pinnacle, which was of 
weight enough, if thrown down, not only to have destroyed the remnant of 
the drawbridge, which sheltered the two foremost assailants, but also to 
have sunk the rude float of planks over which they had crossed. All saw the 
danger, and the boldest, even the stout Friar himself, avoided setting foot 
on the raft. Thrice did Locksley bend his shaft against De Bracy, and 
thrice did his arrow bound back from the knight's armour of proof.
"Curse on thy Spanish steel-coat!" said Locksley, "had English smith forged 
it, these arrows had gone through, an as if it had been silk or sendal." He 
then began to call out, "Comrades! friends! noble Cedric! bear back, and 
let the ruin fall."
His warning voice was unheard, for the din which the knight himself 
occasioned by his strokes upon the postern would have drowned twenty war-
trumpets. The faithful Gurth indeed sprung forward on the planked bridge, 
to warn Cedric of his impending fate, or to share it with him. But his 
warning would have come too late; the massive pinnacle already tottered, 
and De Bracy, who still heaved at his task, would have accomplished it, had 
not the voice of the Templar sounded close in his ears: -
"All is lost, De Bracy, the castle burns."
"Thou art mad to say so!" replied the knight.
"It is all in a light flame on the western side. I have striven in vain to 
extinguish it."
With the stern coolness which formed the basis of his character, Brian de 
Bois-Guilbert communicated this hideous intelligence, which was not so 
calmly received by his astonished comrade.
"Saints of Paradise!" said De Bracy; "what is to be done? I vow to Saint 
Nicholas of Limoges a candlestick of pure gold - "
"Spare thy vow," said the Templar, "and mark me. Lead thy men down, as if 
to a sally; throw the postern-gate open - There are but two men who occupy 
the float, fling them into the moat, and push across for the barbican. I 
will charge from the main gate, and attack the barbican on the outside; and 
if we can regain that post, be assured we shall defend ourselves until we 
are relieved, or at least till they grant us fair quarter."
"It is well thought upon," said De Bracy; "I will play my part - Templar, 
thou wilt not fail me?"
"Hand and glove, I will not!" said Bois-Guilbert. "But haste thee, in the 
name of God!"
De Bracy hastily drew his men together, and rushed down to the postern-
gate, which he caused instantly to be thrown open. But scarce was this done 
ere the portentous strength of the Black Knight forced his way inward in 
despite of De Bracy and his followers. Two of the foremost instantly fell, 
and the rest gave way notwithstanding all their leader's efforts to stop 
them.
"Dogs!" said De Bracy, "will ye let two men win our only pass for safety?"
"He is the devil!" said a veteran man-at-arms, bearing back from the blows 
of their sable antagonist.
"And if he be the devil," replied De Bracy, "would you fly from him into 
the mouth of hell? - the castle burns behind us, villains! - let despair 
give you courage, or let me forward! I will cope with this champion myself"
And well and chivalrous did De Bracy that day maintain the fame he had 
acquired in the civil wars of that dreadful period. The vaulted passage to 
which the postern gave entrance, and in which these two redoubted champions 
were now fighting hand to hand, rung with the furious blows which they 
dealt each other, De Bracy with his sword, the Black Knight with his 
ponderous axe. At length the Norman received a blow, which, though its 
force was partly parried by his shield, for otherwise never more would De 
Bracy have again moved limb, descended yet with such violence on his crest, 
that he measured his length on the paved floor.
"Yield thee, De Bracy," said the Black Champion, stooping over him, and 
holding against the bars of his helmet the fatal poniard with which the 
knights dispatched their enemies, (and which was called the dagger of 
mercy,) - "yield thee, Maurice de Bracy, rescue or no rescue, or thou art 
but a dead man."
"I will not yield," replied De Bracy faintly, "to an unknown conqueror. 
Tell me thy name, or work thy pleasure on me - it shall never be said that 
Maurice de Bracy was prisoner to a nameless churl."
The Black Knight whispered something into the ear of the vanquished.
"I yield me to be true prisoner, rescue or no rescue," answered the Norman, 
exchanging his tone of stern and determined obstinacy for one of deep 
though sullen submission.
"Go to the barbican," said the victor, in a tone of authority, "and there 
wait my further orders."
"Yet first, let me say," said De Bracy, "what it imports thee to know. 
Wilfred of Ivanhoe is wounded and a prisoner, and will perish in the 
burning castle without present help."
"Wilfred of Ivanhoe!" exclaimed the Black Knight - "prisoner, and perish! - 
The life of every man in the castle shall answer it if a hair of his head 
be singed - Show me his chamber!"
"Ascend yonder winding stair," said De Bracy; "it leads to his apartment - 
Wilt thou not accept my guidance?" he added, in a submissive voice.
"No. To the barbican, and there wait my orders. I trust thee not, De 
Bracy."
During this combat and the brief conversation which ensued, Cedric, at the 
head of a body of men, among whom the Friar was conspicuous, had pushed 
across the bridge as soon as they saw the postern open, and drove back the 
dispirited and despairing followers of De Bracy, of whom some asked 
quarter, some offered vain resistance, and the greater part fled towards 
the court-yard. De Bracy himself arose from the ground, and cast a 
sorrowful glance after his conqueror. "He trusts me not!" he repeated; "but 
have I deserved his trust?" He then lifted his sword from the floor, took 
off his helmet in token of submission, and, going to the barbican, gave up 
his sword to Locksley, whom he met by the way.
As the fire augmented, symptoms of it became soon apparent in the chamber, 
where Ivanhoe was watched and tended by the Jewess Rebecca. He had been 
awakened from his brief slumber by the noise of the battle; and his 
attendant, who had, at his anxious desire, again placed herself at the 
window to watch and report to him the fate of the attack, was for some time 
prevented from observing either, by the increase of the smouldering and 
stifling vapour. At length the volumes of smoke which rolled into the 
apartment - the cries for water, which were heard even above the din of the 
battle made them sensible of the progress of this new danger.
"The castle burns," said Rebecca; "it burns! - What can we do to save 
ourselves?"
"Fly, Rebecca, and save thine own life," said Ivanhoe, "for no human aid 
can avail me."
"I will not fly," answered Rebecca; "we will be saved or perish together - 
And yet, great God! - my father, my father - what will be his fate!"
At this moment the door of the apartment flew open, and the Templar 
presented himself, - a ghastly figure, for his gilded armour was broken and 
bloody, and the plume was partly shorn away, partly burnt from his casque. 
"I have found thee," said he to Rebecca; "thou shalt prove I will keep my 
word to share weal and woe with thee - There is but one path to safety, I 
have cut my way through fifty dangers to point it to thee - up, and 
instantly follow me!"
"Alone," answered Rebecca, "I will not follow thee. If thou wert born of 
woman - if thou hast but a touch of human charity in thee - if thy heart be 
not hard as thy breastplate - save my aged father - save this wounded 
knight!"
"A knight," answered the Templar, with his characteristic calmness, "a 
knight, Rebecca, must encounter his fate, whether it meet him in the shape 
of sword or flame - and who recks how or where a Jew meets with his?"
"Savage warrior," said Rebecca, "rather will I perish in the flames than 
accept safety from thee!"
"Thou shalt not choose, Rebecca - once didst thou foil me, but never mortal 
did so twice."
So saying, he seized on the terrified maiden, who filled the air with her 
shrieks, and bore her out of the room in his arms in spite of her cries, 
and without regarding the menaces and defiance which Ivanhoe thundered 
against him. "Hound of the Temple - stain to thine Order - set free the 
damsel! Traitor of Bois-Guilbert, it is Ivanhoe commands thee! - Villain, I 
will have thy heart's blood!"
"I had not found thee, Wilfred," said the Black Knight, who at that instant 
entered the apartment, "but for thy shouts."
"If thou best true knight," said Wilfred, "think not of me - pursue yon 
ravisher - save the Lady Rowena - look to the noble Cedric!"
"In their turn," answered he of the Fetterlock, "but thine is first."
And seizing upon Ivanhoe, he bore him off with as much ease as the Templar 
had carried off Rebecca, rushed with him to the postern, and having there 
delivered his burden to the care of two yeomen, he again entered the castle 
to assist in the rescue of the other prisoners.
One turret was now in bright flames, which flashed out furiously from 
window and shot-hole. But in other parts, the great thickness of the walls 
and the vaulted roofs of the apartments, resisted the progress of the 
flames, and there the rage of man still triumphed, as the scarce more 
dreadful element held mastery elsewhere; for the besiegers pursued the 
defenders of the castle from chamber to chamber, and satiated in their 
blood the vengeance which had long animated them against the soldiers of 
the tyrant Front-de-Boeuf. Most of the garrison resisted to the uttermost - 
few of them asked quarter - none received it. The air was filled with 
groans and clashing of arms - the floors were slippery with the blood of 
despairing and expiring wretches.
Through this scene of confusion, Cedric rushed in quest of Rowena, while 
the faithful Gurth, following him closely through the meelee, neglected his 
own safety while he strove to avert the blows that were aimed at his 
master. The noble Saxon was so fortunate as to reach his ward's apartment 
just as she had abandoned all hope of safety, and, with a crucifix clasped 
in agony to her bosom, sat in expectation of instant death. He committed 
her to the charge of Gurth, to be conducted in safety to the barbican, the 
road to which was now cleared of the enemy, and not yet interrupted by the 
flames. This accomplished, the loyal Cedric hastened in quest of his friend 
Athelstane, determined, at every risk to himself, to save that last scion 
of Saxon royalty. But ere Cedric penetrated as far as the old hall in which 
he had himself been a prisoner, the inventive genius of Wamba had procured 
liberation for himself and his companion in adversity.
When the noise of the conflict announced that it was at the hottest, the 
Jester began to shout, with the utmost power of his lungs, "Saint George 
and the dragon! - Bonny Saint George for merry England! - The castle is 
won!" And these sounds he rendered yet more fearful, by banging against 
each other two or three pieces of rusty armour which lay scattered around 
the hall.
A guard, which had been stationed in the outer, or anteroom, and whose 
spirits were already in a state of alarm, took fright at Wamba's clamour, 
and, leaving the door open behind them, ran to tell the Templar that foemen 
had entered the old hall. Meantime the prisoners found no difficulty in 
making their escape into the anteroom, and from thence into the court of 
the castle, which was now the last scene of contest. Here sat the fierce 
Templar, mounted on horseback, surrounded by several of the garrison both 
on horse and foot, who had united their strength to that of this renowned 
leader, in order to secure the last chance of safety and retreat which 
remained to them. The drawbridge had been lowered by his orders, but the 
passage was beset; for the archers, who had hitherto only annoyed the 
castle on that side by their missiles, no sooner saw the flames breaking 
out, and the bridge lowered, than they thronged to the entrance, as well to 
prevent the escape of the garrison, as to secure their own share of booty 
ere the castle should be burnt down. On the other hand, a party of the 
besiegers who had entered by the postern were now issuing out into the 
court-yard, and attacking with fury the remnant of the defenders who were 
thus assaulted on both sides at once.
Animated, however, by despair, and supported by the example of their 
indomitable leader, the remaining soldiers of the castle fought with the 
utmost valour; and, being well-armed, succeeded more than once in driving 
back the assailants, though much inferior in numbers. Rebecca, placed on 
horseback before one of the Templar's Saracen slaves, was in the midst of 
the little party; and Bois-Guilbert, notwithstanding the confusion of the 
bloody fray, showed every attention to her safety. Repeatedly he was by her 
side, and, neglecting his own defence, held before her the fence of his 
triangular steel-plated shield; and anon starting from his position by her, 
he cried his war-cry, dashed forward, struck to earth the most forward of 
the assailants, and was on the same instant once more at her bridle rein.
Athelstane, who, as the reader knows, was slothful, but not cowardly, 
beheld the female form whom the Templar protected thus sedulously, and 
doubted not that it was Rowena whom the knight was carrying off, in despite 
of all resistance which could be offered.
"By the soul of Saint Edward," he said, "I will rescue her from yonder over-
proud knight, and he shall die by my hand!"
"Think what you do!" cried Wamba; "hasty hand catches frog for fish - by my 
bauble, yonder is none of my Lady Rowena - see but her long dark locks! - 
Nay, an ye will not know black from white, ye may be leader, but I will be 
no follower - no bones of mine shall be broken unless I know for whom. - 
And you without armour too! - Bethink you, silk bonnet never kept out steel 
blade. - Nay, then, if wilful will to water, wilful must drench. - Deus 
vobiscum, most doughty Athelstane!" - he concluded, loosening the hold 
which he had hitherto kept upon the Saxon's tunic.
To snatch a mace from the pavement, on which it lay beside one whose dying 
grasp had just relinquished it - to rush on the Templar's band, and to 
strike in quick succession to the right and left, levelling a warrior at 
each blow, was, for Athelstane's great strength, now animated with unusual 
fury, but the work of a single moment; he was soon within two yards of Bois-
Guilbert, whom he defied in his loudest tone.
"Turn, false-hearted Templar! let go her whom thou art unworthy to touch - 
turn, limb of a hand of murdering and hypocritical robbers!"
"Dog!" said the Templar, grinding his teeth, "I will teach thee to 
blaspheme the holy Order of the Temple of Zion;" and with these words, half-
wheeling his steed, he made a demi-courbette towards the Saxon, and rising 
in the stirrups, so as to take full advantage of the descent of the horse, 
he discharged a fearful blow upon the head of Athelstane.
Well said Wamba, that silken bonnet keeps out no steel blade. So trenchant 
was the Templar's weapon, that it shore asunder, as it had been a willow 
twig, the tough and plaited handle of the mace, which the ill-fated Saxon 
reared to parry the blow, and, descending on his head, levelled him with 
the earth.
"Ha! Beau-seant!" exclaimed Bois-Guilbert, "thus be it to the maligners of 
the Temple-knights!" Taking advantage of the dismay which was spread by the 
fall of Athelstane, and calling aloud, "Those who would save themselves, 
follow me!" he pushed across the drawbridge, dispersing the archers who 
would have intercepted them. He was followed by his Saracens, and some five 
or six men-at-arms, who had mounted their horses. The Templar's retreat was 
rendered perilous by the numbers of arrows shot off at him and his party; 
but this did not prevent him from galloping round to the barbican, of 
which, according to his previous plan, he supposed it possible De Bracy 
might have been in possession.
"De Bracy! De Bracy!" he shouted, "art thou there?"
"I am here," replied De Bracy, "but I am a prisoner."
"Can I rescue thee?" cried Bois-Guilbert.
"No," replied De Bracy; "I have rendered me, rescue or no rescue. I will be 
true prisoner. Save thyself - there are hawks abroad - put the seas betwixt 
you and England - I dare not say more."
"Well," answered the Templar, "an thou wilt tarry there, remember I have 
redeemed word and glove. Be the hawks where they will, methinks the walls 
of the Preceptory of Templestowe will be cover sufficient, and thither will 
I, like heron to her haunt."
Having thus spoken, he galloped off with his followers.
Those of the castle who had not gotten to horse, still continued to fight 
desperately with the besiegers, after the departure of the Templar, but 
rather in despair of quarter than that they entertained any hope of escape. 
The fire was spreading rapidly through all parts of the castle, when 
Ulrica, who had first kindled it, appeared on a turret, in the guise of one 
of the ancient furies, yelling forth a war-song, such as was of yore raised 
on the field of battle by the scalds of the yet heathen Saxons. Her long 
dishevelled grey hair flew back from her uncovered head; the inebriating 
delight of gratified vengeance contended in her eyes with the fire of 
insanity; and she brandished the distaff which she held in her hand, as if 
she had been one of the Fatal Sisters, who spin and abridge the thread of 
human life. Tradition has preserved some wild strophes of the barbarous 
hymn which she chanted wildly amid that scene of fire and of slaughter: -

1.
	Whet the bright steel,
	Sons of the White Dragon!
	Kindle the torch,
	Daughter of Hengist!
	The steel glimmers not for the carving of the banquet,
	It is hard, broad, and sharply pointed;
	The torch goeth not to the bridal chamber,
	It steams and glitters blue with sulphur.
	Whet the steel, the raven croaks!
	Light the torch, Zernebock is yelling!
	Whet the steel, sons of the Dragon!
	Kindle the torch, daughter of Hengist!

2.
	The black cloud is low over the thane's castle
	The eagle screams - he rides on its bosom.
	Scream not, grey rider of the sable cloud,
	Thy banquet is prepared!
	The maidens of Valhalla look forth,
	The race of Hengist will send them guests.
	Shake your black tresses, maidens of Valhalla!
	And strike your loud timbrels for joy!
	Many a haughty step bends to your halls,
	Many a helmed head.

3.
	Dark sits the evening upon the thanes castle,
	The black clouds gather round;
	Soon shall they be red as the blood of the valiant!
	The destroyer of forests shall shake his red crest against them.
	He, the bright consumer of palaces,
	Broad waves he his blazing banner,
	Red, wide and dusky,
	Over the strife of the valiant:
	His joy is in the clashing swords and broken bucklers;
	He loves to lick the hissing blood as it bursts warm from the wound!

4.
	All must perish!
	The sword cleaveth the helmet;
	The strong armour is pierced by the lance;
	Fire devoureth the dwelling of princes,
	Engines break down the fences of the battle.
	All must perish!
	The race of Hengist is gone -
	The name of Horsa is no more!
	Shrink not then from your doom, sons of the sword!
	Let your blades drink blood like wine;
	Feast ye in the banquet of slaughter,
	By the light of the blazing halls!
	Strong be your swords while your blood is warm,
	And spare neither for pity nor fear,
	For vengeance hath but an hour;
	Strong hate itself shall expire
	I also must perish!

The towering flames had now surmounted every obstruction, and rose to the 
evening skies one huge and burning beacon, seen far and wide through the 
adjacent country. Tower after tower crashed down, with blazing roof and 
rafter; and the combatants were driven from the court-yard. The vanquished, 
of whom very few remained, scattered and escaped into the neighbouring 
wood. The victors, assembling in large bands, gazed with wonder, not 
unmixed with fear, upon the flames, in which their own ranks and arms 
glanced dusky red. The maniac figure of the Saxon Ulrica was for a long 
time visible on the lofty stand she had chosen, tossing her arms abroad 
with wild exultation, as if she reined empress of the conflagration which 
she had raised. At length, with a terrific crash, the whole turret gave 
way, and she perished in the flames which had consumed her tyrant. An awful 
pause of horror silenced each murmur of the armed spectators, who, for the 
space of several minutes, stirred not a finger, save to sign the cross. The 
voice of Locksley was then heard, "Shout, yeomen! - the den of tyrants is 
no more! Let each bring his spoil to our chosen place of rendezvous at the 
Trysting-tree in the Harthill-walk; for there at break of day will we make 
just partition among our own bands, together with our worthy allies in this 
great deed of vengeance."


Chapter 32

			Trust me each state must have its policies:
			Kingdoms have edicts, cities have their charters;
			Even the wild outlaw, in his forest-walk,
			Keeps yet some touch of civil discipline;
			For not since Adam wore his verdant apron,
			Hath man with man in social union dwelt,
			But laws were made to draw that union closer.
								-- Old Play.


The daylight had dawned upon the glades of the oak forest. The green boughs 
glittered with all their pearls of dew. The hind led her fawn from the 
covert of high fern to the more open walks of the greenwood, and no 
huntsman was there to watch or intercept the stately hart, as he paced at 
the head of the antler'd herd.
The outlaws were all assembled around the Trysting-tree in the Harthill-
walk, where they had spent the night in refreshing themselves after the 
fatigues of the siege, some with wine, some with slumber, many with hearing 
and recounting the events of the day, and computing the heaps of plunder 
which their success had placed at the disposal of their Chief.
The spoils were indeed very large; for, notwithstanding that much was 
consumed, a great deal of plate, rich armour, and splendid clothing, had 
been secured by the exertions of the dauntless outlaws, who could be 
appalled by no danger when such rewards were in view. Yet so strict were 
the laws of their society, that no one ventured to appropriate any part of 
the booty, which was brought into one common mass, to be at the disposal of 
their leader.
The place of rendezvous was an aged oak; not however the same to which 
Locksley had conducted Gurth and Wamba in the earlier part of the story, 
but one which was the centre of a silvan amphitheatre, within half a mile 
of the demolished castle of Torquilstone. Here Locksley assumed his seat - 
a throne of turf erected under the twisted branches of the huge oak, and 
the silvan followers were gathered around him. He assigned to the Black 
Knight a seat at his right hand, and to Cedric a place upon his left.
"Pardon my freedom, noble sirs," he said, "but in these glades I am monarch 
- they are my kingdom; and these my wild subjects would reck but little of 
my power, were I, within my own dominions, to yield place to mortal man. - 
Now, sirs, who hath seen our chaplain? where is our curtal Friar? A mass 
amongst Christian men best begins a busy morning." - No one had seen the 
Clerk of Copmanhurst. "Over gods forbode!" said the outlaw chief, "I trust 
the jolly priest hath but abidden by the wine-pot a thought too late. Who 
saw him since the castle was ta'en?"
"I," quoth the Miller, "marked him busy about the door of a cellar, 
swearing by each saint in the calendar he would taste the smack of Front-de-
Boeuf's Gascoigne wine."
"Now, the saints, as many as there be of them," said the Captain, 
"forefend, lest he has drunk too deep of the wine-butts, and perished by 
the fall of the castle! - Away, Miller! - take with you enow of men, seek 
the place where you last saw him - throw water from the moat on the 
scorching ruins - I will have them removed stone by stone ere I lose my 
curtal Friar."
The numbers who hastened to execute this duty, considering that an 
interesting division of spoil was about to take place, showed how much the 
troop had at heart the safety of their spiritual father.
"Meanwhile, let us proceed," said Locksley; "for when this bold deed shall 
be sounded abroad, the bands of De Bracy, of Malvoisin, and other allies of 
Front-de-Boeuf, will be in motion against us, and it were well for our 
safety that we retreat from the vicinity. - Noble Cedric," he said, turning 
to the Saxon, "that spoil is divided into two portions; do thou make choice 
of that which best suits thee, to recompense thy people who were partakers 
with us in this adventure."
"Good yeoman," said Cedric, "my heart is oppressed with sadness. The noble 
Athelstane of Coningsburgh is no more - the last sprout of the sainted 
Confessor! Hopes have perished with him which can never return! - A sparkle 
hath been quenched by his blood, which no human breath can again rekindle! 
My people, save the few who are now with me, do but tarry my presence to 
transport his honoured remains to their last mansion. The Lady Rowena is 
desirous to return to Rotherwood, and must be escorted by a sufficient 
force. I should, therefore, ere now, have left this place; and I waited - 
not to share the booty, for, so help me God and Saint Withold! as neither I 
nor any of mine will touch the value of a liard, - I waited but to render 
my thanks to thee and to thy bold yeomen, for the life and honour ye have 
saved."
"Nay, but," said the chief Outlaw, "we did but half the work at most - take 
of the spoil what may reward your own neighbours and followers."
"I am rich enough to reward them from mine own wealth," answered Cedric.
"And some," said Wamba, "have been wise enough to reward themselves; they 
do not march off empty-handed altogether. We do not all wear motley."
"They are welcome," said Locksley; "our laws bind none but ourselves."
"But, thou, my poor knave," said Cedric, turning about and embracing his 
Jester, "how shall I reward thee, who feared not to give thy body to chains 
and death instead of mine! - All forsook me, when the poor fool was 
faithful!"
A tear stood in the eye of the rough Thane as he spoke - a mark of feeling 
which even the death of Athelstane had not extracted; but there was 
something in the half-instinctive attachment of his clown, that waked his 
nature more keenly than even grief itself.
"Nay," said the Jester, extricating himself from master's caress, "if you 
pay my service with the water of your eye, the Jester must weep for 
company, and then what becomes of his vocation? - But, uncle, if you would 
indeed pleasure me, I pray you to pardon my playfellow Gurth, who stole a 
week from your service to bestow it on your son."
"Pardon him!" exclaimed Cedric; "I will both pardon and reward him. - Kneel 
down, Gurth." - The swineherd was in an instant at his master's feet - 
"Theow and Esne art thou no longer," said Cedric touching him with a wand; 
"Folkfree and Sacless art thou in town, and from town, in the forest as in 
the field. A hide of land I give to thee in my steads of Walbrugham, from 
me and mine to thee and thine aye and for ever; and God's malison on his 
head who this gainsays!"
No longer a serf, but a freeman and a landholder, Gurth sprung upon his 
feet, and twice bounded aloft to almost his own height from the ground.
"A smith and a file," he cried, "to do away the collar from the neck of a 
freeman! - Noble master! doubled is my strength by your gift, and doubly 
will I fight for you! - There is a free spirit in my breast - I am a man 
changed to myself and all around. - Ha, Fangs!" he continued, - for that 
faithful cur, seeing his master thus transported, began to jump upon him, 
to express his sympathy, - "knowest thou thy master still?"
"Ay," said Wamba, "Fangs and I still know thee, Gurth, though we must needs 
abide by the collar; it is only thou art likely to forget both us and 
thyself."
"I shall forget myself indeed ere I forget thee, true comrade," said Gurth; 
"and were freedom fit for thee, Wamba, the master would not let thee want 
it."
"Nay," said Wamba, "never think I envy thee, brother Gurth; the serf sits 
by the hall-fire when the freeman must forth to the field of battle - And 
what saith Aldhelm of Malmsbury - Better a fool at a feast than a wise man 
at a fray."
The tramp of horses was now heard, and the Lady Rowena appeared, surrounded 
by several riders, and a much stronger party of footmen, who joyfully shook 
their pikes and clashed their brown-bills for joy of her freedom. She 
herself, richly attired, and mounted on a dark chestnut palfrey, had 
recovered all the dignity of her manner, and only an unwonted degree of 
paleness showed the sufferings she had undergone. Her lovely brow, though 
sorrowful, bore on it a cast of reviving hope for the future, as well as of 
grateful thankfulness for the past deliverance - She knew that Ivanhoe was 
safe, and she knew that Athelstane was dead. The former assurance filled 
her with the most sincere delight; and if she did not absolutely rejoice at 
the latter, she might be pardoned for feeling the full advantage of being 
freed from further persecution on the only subject in which she had ever 
been contradicted by her guardian Cedric.
As Rowena bent her steed towards Locksley's seat, that bold yeoman, with 
all his followers, rose to receive her, as if by a general instinct of 
courtesy. The blood rose to her cheeks, as, courteously waving her hand, 
and bending so low that her beautiful and loose tresses were for an instant 
mixed with the flowing mane of her palfrey, she expressed in few but apt 
words her obligations and her gratitude to Locksley and her other 
deliverers. - "God bless you, brave men," she concluded, "God and Our Lady 
bless you and requite you for gallantly perilling yourselves in the cause 
of the oppressed! - If any of you should hunger, remember Rowena has food - 
if you should thirst, she has many a butt of wine and brown ale - and if 
the Normans drive ye from these walks, Rowena has forests of her own, where 
her gallant deliverers may range at full freedom, and never ranger ask 
whose arrow hath struck down the deer."
"Thanks, gentle lady," said Locksley; "thanks from my company and myself. 
But, to have saved you requites itself. We who walk the greenwood do many a 
wild deed, and the Lady Rowena's deliverance may be received as an 
atonement."
Again bowing from her palfrey, Rowena turned to depart; but pausing a 
moment, while Cedric, who was to attend her, was also taking his leave, she 
found herself unexpectedly close by the prisoner De Bracy. He stood under a 
tree in deep meditation, his arms crossed upon his breast, and Rowena was 
in hopes she might pass him unobserved. He looked up, however, and, when 
aware of her presence, a deep flush of shame suffused his handsome 
countenance. He stood a moment most irresolute; then, stepping forward, 
took her palfrey by the rein, and bent his knee before her.
"Will the Lady Rowena deign to cast an eye - on a captive knight - on a 
dishonoured soldier?"
"Sir Knight," answered Rowena, "in enterprises such as yours, the real 
dishonour lies not in failure, but in success."
"Conquest, lady, should soften the heart," answered De Bracy; "let me but 
know that the Lady Rowena forgives the violence occasioned by an ill-fated 
passion, and she shall soon learn that De Bracy knows how to serve her in 
nobler ways."
"I forgive you, Sir Knight," said Rowena, "as a Christian."
"That means," said Wamba, "that she does not forgive him at all."
"But I can never forgive the misery and desolation your madness has 
occasioned," continued Rowena.
"Unloose your hold on the lady's rein," said Cedric, coming up. "By the 
bright sun above us, but it were shame, I would pin thee to the earth with 
my javelin - but be well assured, thou shalt smart, Maurice de Bracy, for 
thy share in this foul deed."
"He threatens safely who threatens a prisoner," said De Bracy; "but when 
had a Saxon any touch of courtesy?"
Then retiring two steps backward, he permitted the lady to move on.
Cedric, ere they departed, expressed his peculiar gratitude to the Black 
Champion, and earnestly entreated him to accompany him to Rotherwood.
"I know," he said, "that ye errant knights desire to carry your fortunes on 
the point of your lance, and reck not of land or goods; but war is a 
changeful mistress, and a home is sometimes desirable even to the champion 
whose trade is wandering. Thou hast earned one in the halls of Rotherwood, 
noble knight. Cedric has wealth enough to repair the injuries of fortune, 
and all he has is his deliverer's - Come, therefore, to Rotherwood, not as 
a guest, but as a son or brother."
"Cedric has already made me rich," said the Knight, - "he has taught me the 
value of Saxon virtue. To Rotherwood will I come, brave Saxon, and that 
speedily; but, as now, pressing matters of moment detain me from your 
halls. Peradventure when I come hither, I will ask such a boon as will put 
even thy generosity to the test."
"It is granted ere spoken out," said Cedric, striking his ready hand into 
the gauntleted palm of the Black Knight, - "it is granted already, were it 
to affect half my fortune."
"Gage not thy promise so lightly," said the Knight of the Fetterlock; "yet 
well I hope to gain the boon I shall ask. Meanwhile, adieu."
"I have but to say," added the Saxon, "that, during the funeral rites of 
the noble Athelstane, I shall be an inhabitant of the halls of his castle 
of Coninsburgh - They will be open to all who choose to partake of the 
funeral banqueting; and, I speak in name of the noble Edith, mother of the 
fallen prince, they will never be shut against him who laboured so bravely, 
though unsuccessfully, to save Athelstane from Norman chains and Norman 
steel."
"Ay, ay," said Wamba, who had resumed his attendance on his master, "rare 
feeding there will be - pity that the noble Athelstane cannot banquet at 
his own funeral. - But he," continued the Jester, lifting up his eyes 
gravely, "is supping in Paradise, and doubtless does honour to the cheer."
"Peace, and move on," said Cedric, his anger at this untimely jest being 
checked by the recollection of Wamba's recent services. Rowena waved a 
graceful adieu to him of the Fetterlock - the Saxon bade God speed him, and 
on they moved through a wide glade of the forest.
They had scarce departed, ere a sudden procession moved from under the 
greenwood branches, swept slowly round the silvan amphitheatre, and took 
the same direction with Rowena and her followers. The priests of a 
neighbouring convent, in expectation of the ample donation, or soul-scat, 
which Cedric had propined, attended upon the car in which the body of 
Athelstane was laid, and sang hymns as it was sadly and slowly borne on the 
shoulders of his vassals to his castle of Coningsburgh, to be there 
deposited in the grave of Hengist, from whom the deceased derived his long 
descent. Many of his vassals had assembled at the news of his death, and 
followed the bier with all the external marks, at least, of dejection and 
sorrow. Again the outlaws arose, and paid the same rude and spontaneous 
homage to death, which they had so lately rendered to beauty - the slow 
chant and mournful step of the priests brought back to their remembrance 
such of their comrades as had fallen in the yesterday's array. But such 
recollections dwell not long with those who lead a life of danger and 
enterprise, and ere the sound of the death-hymn had died on the wind, the 
outlaws were again busied in the distribution of their spoil.
"Valiant knight," said Locksley to the Black Champion, "without whose good 
heart and mighty arm our enterprise must altogether have failed, will it 
please you to take from that mass of spoil whatever may best serve to 
pleasure you, and to remind you of this my Trysting-tree?"
"I accept the offer," said the Knight, "as frankly as it is given; and I 
ask permission to dispose of Sir Maurice de Bracy at my own pleasure."
"He is thine already," said Locksley, "and well for him! else the tyrant 
had graced the highest bough of this oak, with as many of his Free-
Companions as we could gather, hanging thick as acorns around him. - But he 
is thy prisoner, and he is safe, though he had slain my father."
"De Bracy," said the Knight, "thou art free - depart. He whose prisoner 
thou art scorns to take mean revenge for what is past. But beware of the 
future, lest a worse thing befall thee. - Maurice de Bracy, I say beware!"
De Bracy bowed low and in silence, and was about to withdraw, when the 
yeomen burst at once into a shout of execration and derision. The proud 
knight instantly stopped, turned back, folded his arms, drew up his form to 
its full height, and exclaimed, "Peace, ye yelping curs! who open upon a 
cry which ye followed not when the stag was at bay - De Bracy scorns your 
censure as he would disdain your applause. To your brakes and caves, ye 
outlawed thieves! and be silent when aught knightly or noble is but spoken 
within a league of your fox-earths."
This ill-timed defiance might have procured for De Bracy a volley of 
arrows, but for the hasty and imperative interference of the outlaw Chief. 
Meanwhile the knight caught a horse by the rein, for several which had been 
taken in the stables of Front-de-Boeuf stood accoutred around, and were a 
valuable part of the booty. He threw himself upon the saddle, and galloped 
off through the wood.
When the bustle occasioned by this incident was somewhat composed, the 
chief Outlaw took from his neck the rich horn and baldric which he had 
recently gained at the strife of archery near Ashby.
"Noble knight." he said to him of the Fetterlock, "if you disdain not to 
grace by your acceptance a bugle which an English yeoman has once worn, 
this I will pray you to keep as a memorial of your gallant bearing - and if 
ye have aught to do, and, as happeneth oft to a gallant knight, ye chance 
to be hard bested in any forest between Trent and Tees, wind three mots 
upon the horn thus, Wa-sa-hoa! and it may well chance ye shall find helpers 
and rescue."
He then gave breath to the bugle, and winded once and again the call which 
be described, until the knight had caught the notes.
"Gramercy for the gift, bold yeoman," said the Knight; "and better help 
than thine and thy rangers would I never seek, were it at my utmost need." 
And then in his turn he winded the call till all the greenwood rang.
"Well blown and clearly," said the yeoman; "beshrew me an thou knowest not 
as much of woodcraft as of war! - thou hast been a striker of deer in thy 
day, I warrant. - Comrades, mark these three mots - it is the call of the 
Knight of the Fetterlock; and he who hears it, and hastens not to serve him 
at his need, I will have him scourged out of our band with his own 
bowstring."
"Long live our leader!" shouted the yeomen, "and long live the Black Knight 
of the Fetterlock! - May he soon use our service, to prove how readily it 
will be paid."
Locksley now proceeded to the distribution of the spoil, which he performed 
with the most laudable impartiality. A tenth part of the whole was set 
apart for the church, and for pious uses; a portion was next allotted to a 
sort of public treasury; a part was assigned to the widows and children of 
those who had fallen, or to be expended in masses for the souls of such as 
had left no surviving family. The rest was divided amongst the outlaws, 
according to their rank and merit, and the judgement of the Chief, on all 
such doubtful questions as occurred, was delivered with great shrewdness, 
and received with absolute submission. The Black Knight was not a little 
surprised to find that men, in a state so lawless, were nevertheless among 
themselves so regularly and equitably governed, and all that he observed 
added to his opinion of the justice and judgement of their leader.
When each had taken his own proportion of the booty, and while the 
treasurer, accompanied by four tall yeomen, was transporting that belonging 
to the state to some place of concealment or of security, the portion 
devoted to the church still remained unappropriated.
"I would," said the leader, "we could hear tidings of our joyous chaplain - 
he was never wont to be absent when meat was to be blessed, or spoil to be 
parted; and it is his duty to take care of these the tithes of our 
successful enterprise. It may be the office has helped to cover some of his 
canonical irregularities. Also, I have a holy brother of his a prisoner at 
no great distance, and I would fain have the Friar to help me to deal with 
him in due sort - I greatly misdoubt the safety of the bluff priest."
"I were right sorry for that," said the Knight of the Fetterlock, "for I 
stand indebted to him for the joyous hospitality of a merry night in his 
cell. Let us to the ruins of the castle; it may be we shall there learn 
some tidings of him."
While they thus spoke, a loud shout among the yeomen announced the arrival 
of him for whom they feared, as they learned from the stentorian voice of 
the Friar himself, long before they saw his burly person.
"Make room, my merry-men!" he exclaimed; "room for your godly father and 
his prisoner - Cry welcome once more. - I come, noble leader, like an eagle 
with my prey in my clutch." - And making his way through the ring, amidst 
the laughter of all around, he appeared in majestic triumph, his huge 
partisan in one hand, and in the other a halter, one end of which was 
fastened to the neck of the unfortunate Isaac of York, who, bent down by 
sorrow and terror, was dragged on by the victorious priest, who shouted 
aloud, "Where is Allan-a-Dale, to chronicle me in a ballad, or if it were 
but a lay? - By Saint Hermangild, the jingling crowder is ever out of the 
way where there is an apt theme for exalting valour!"
"Curtal Priest," said the Captain, "thou hast been at a wet mass this 
morning, as early as it is. In the name of Saint Nicholas, whom hast thou 
got here?"
"A captive to my sword and to my lance, noble Captain," replied the Clerk 
of Copmanhurst; "to my bow and to my halberd, I should rather say; and yet 
I have redeemed him by my divinity from a worse captivity. Speak, Jew - 
have I not ransomed thee from Sathanas? - have I not taught thee thy credo, 
thy pater, and thine Ave Maria? - Did I not spend the whole night in 
drinking to thee, and in expounding of mysteries?"
"For the love of God!" ejaculated the poor Jew, "will no one take me out of 
the keeping of this mad - I mean this holy man?"
"How's this, Jew?" said the Friar, with a menacing aspect; "dost thou 
recant, Jew? - Bethink thee, if thou dost relapse into thine infidelity, 
though thou are not so tender as a suckling pig - I would I had one to 
break my fast upon - thou art not too tough to be roasted! Be conformable, 
Isaac, and repeat the words after me. Ave Maria! - "
"Nay, we will have no profanation, mad Priest," said Locksley; "let us 
rather hear where you found this prisoner of thine."
"By Saint Dunstan," said the Friar, "I found him where I sought for better 
ware! I did step into the cellarage to see what might be rescued there; for 
though a cup of burnt wine, with spice, be an evening's drought for an 
emperor, it were waste, methought, to let so much good liquor be mulled at 
once; and I had caught up one runlet of sack, and was coming to call more 
aid among these lazy knaves, who are ever to seek when a good deed is to be 
done, when I was avised of a strong door - Aha! thought I, here is the 
choicest juice of all in this secret crypt; and the knave butler, being 
disturbed in his vocation, hath left the key in the door - In therefore I 
went, and found just nought besides a commodity of rusted chains and this 
dog of a Jew, who presently rendered himself my prisoner, rescue or no 
rescue. I did but refresh myself after the fatigue of the action, with the 
unbeliever, with one humming cup of sack, and was proceeding to lead forth 
my captive, when, crash after crash, as with wild thunder-dint and levin-
fire, down toppled the masonry of an outer tower, (marry beshrew their 
hands that built it not the firmer!) and blocked up the passage. The roar 
of one falling tower followed another - I gave up thought of life; and 
deeming it a dishonour to one of my profession to pass out of this world in 
company with a Jew, I heaved up my halberd to beat his brains out; but I 
took pity on his grey hairs, and judged it better to lay down the partisan, 
and take up my spiritual weapon for his conversion. And truly, by the 
blessing of Saint Dunstan, the seed has been sown in good soil; only that, 
with speaking to him of mysteries through the whole night, and being in a 
manner fasting, (for the few droughts of sack which I sharpened my wits 
with were not worth marking,) my head is wellnigh dizzied, I trow. - But I 
was clean exhausted. - Gilbert and Wibbald know in what state they found me 
- quite and clean exhausted."
"We can bear witness," said Gilbert; "for when we had cleared away the 
ruin, and by Saint Dunstan's help lighted upon the dungeon stair, we found 
the runlet of sack half empty, the Jew half dead, and the Friar more than 
half - exhausted, as he calls it."
"Ye be knaves! ye lie!" retorted the offended Friar; "it was you and your 
gormandizing companions that drank up the sack, and called it your morning 
draught - I am a pagan, an I kept it not for the Captain's own throat. But 
what recks it? The Jew is converted, and understands all I have told him, 
very nearly, if not altogether, as well as myself."
"Jew," said the Captain, "is this true? hast thou renounced thine 
unbelief?"
"May I so find mercy in your eyes," said the Jew, "as I know not one word 
which the reverend prelate spake to me all this fearful night. Alas! I was 
so distraught with agony, and fear, and grief, that had our holy father 
Abraham come to preach to me, he had found but a deaf listener."
"Thou liest, Jew, and thou knowest thou dost." said the Friar; "I will 
remind thee of but one word of our conference - thou didst promise to give 
all thy substance to our holy Order."
"So help me the Promise, fair sirs," said Isaac, even more alarmed than 
before, "as no such sounds ever crossed my lips! Alas! I am an aged 
beggar'd man - I fear me a childless - have ruth on me, and let me go!"
"Nay," said the Friar, "if thou dost retract vows made in favour of holy 
Church, thou must do penance."
Accordingly, he raised his halberd, and would have laid the staff of it 
lustily on the Jew's shoulders, had not the Black Knight stopped the blow, 
and thereby transferred the Holy Clerk's resentment to himself.
"By Saint Thomas of Kent," said he, "an I buckle to my gear, I will teach 
thee, sir lazy lover, to mell with thine own matters, maugre thine iron 
case there!"
"Nay, be not wroth with me," said the Knight; "thou knowest I am thy sworn 
friend and comrade."
"I know no such thing," answered the Friar; "and defy thee for a meddling 
coxcomb!"
"Nay, but," said the Knight, who seemed to take a pleasure in provoking his 
quondam host, "hast thou forgotten how, that for my sake (for I say nothing 
of the temptation of the flagon and the pasty) thou didst break thy vow of 
fast and vigil?"
"Truly, friend," said the Friar, clenching his huge fist, "I will bestow a 
buffet on thee."
"I accept of no such presents," said the Knight; "I am content to take thy 
cuff as a loan, but I will repay thee with usury as deep as ever thy 
prisoner there exacted in his traffic."
"I will prove that presently," said the Friar.
"Hola!" cried the Captain, "what art thou after, mad Friar? brawling 
beneath our Trysting-tree?"
"No brawling," said the Knight, "it is but a friendly interchange of 
courtesy. - Friar, strike an thou darest - I will stand thy blow, if thou 
wilt stand mine."
"Thou hast the advantage with that iron pot on thy head," said the 
churchman; "but have at thee - Down thou goest, an thou wert Goliath of 
Gath in his brazen helmet."
The Friar bared his brawny arm up to the elbow, and putting his full 
strength to the blow, gave the Knight a buffet that might have felled an 
ox. But his adversary stood firm as a rock. A loud shout was uttered by all 
the yeomen around; for the Clerk's cuff was proverbial amongst them, and 
there were few who, in jest or earnest, had not had the occasion to know 
its vigour.
"Now, Priest," said, the Knight, pulling off his gauntlet, "if I had 
vantage on my head, I will have none on my hand - stand fast as a true 
man."
"Genam meam dedi vapulatori - I have given my cheek to the smiter," said 
the Priest; "an thou canst stir me from the spot, fellow, I will freely 
bestow on thee the Jew's ransom."
So spoke the burly Priest, assuming, on his part, high defiance. But who 
may resist his fate? The buffet of the Knight was given with such strength 
and good-will, that the Friar rolled head over heels upon the plain, to the 
great amazement of all the spectators. But he arose neither angry nor 
crestfallen.
"Brother," said he to the Knight, "thou shouldst have used thy strength 
with more discretion. I had mumbled but a lame mass an thou hadst broken my 
jaw, for the piper plays ill that wants the nether chops. Nevertheless, 
there is my hand, in friendly witness, that I will exchange no more cuffs 
with thee, having been a loser by the barter. End now all unkindness. Let 
us put the Jew to ransom, since the leopard will not change his spots, and 
a Jew he will continue to be."
"The Priest," said Clement, "is not have so confident of the Jew's 
conversion, since he received that buffet on the ear."
"Go to, knave, what pratest thou of conversions? - what, is there no 
respect? - all masters and no men? - I tell thee, fellow, I was somewhat 
totty when I received the good knight's blow, or I had kept my ground under 
it. But an thou gibest more of it, thou shalt learn I can give as well as 
take."
"Peace all!" said the Captain. "And thou, Jew, think of thy ransom; thou 
needest not to be told that thy race are held to be accursed in all 
Christian communities, and trust me that we cannot endure thy presence 
among us. Think, therefore, of an offer, while I examine a prisoner of 
another cast."
"Were many of Front-de-Boeuf's men taken?" demanded the Black Knight.
"None of note enough to be put to ransom," answered the Captain; "a set of 
hilding fellows there were, whom we dismissed to find them a new master - 
enough had been done for revenge and profit; the bunch of them were not 
worth a cardecu. The prisoner I speak of is better booty - a jolly monk 
riding to visit his leman, an I may judge by his horse-gear and wearing 
apparel. - Here cometh the worthy prelate, as pert as a pyet." And, between 
two yeomen, was brought before the silvan throne of the outlaw Chief, our 
old friend, Prior Aymer of Jorvaulx.



Chapter 33

					 - Flower of warriors,
	How is't with Titus Lartius?

Marcius.	As with a man busied about decrees,
	Condemning some to death and some to exile,
	Ransoming him or pitying, threatening the other.
								-- Coriolanus.


The captive Abbot's features and manners exhibited a whimsical mixture of 
offended pride, and deranged foppery and bodily terror.
"Why, how now, my masters?" said he, with a voice in which all three 
emotions were blended. "What order is this among ye? Be ye Turks or 
Christians, that handle a churchman? - Know ye what it is, manus imponere 
in servos Domini? Ye have plundered my mails - torn my cope of curious cut 
lace, which might have served a cardinal! - Another in my place would have 
been at his excommunicabo vos; but I am placible, and if ye order forth my 
palfreys, release my brethren, and restore my mails, tell down with all 
speed an hundred crowns to be expended in masses at the high altar of 
Jorvaulx Abbey, and make your vow to eat no venison until next Pentecost, 
it may be you shall hear little more of this mad frolic."
"Holy Father," said the chief Outlaw, "it grieves me to think that you have 
met with such usage from any of my followers, as calls for your fatherly 
reprehension."
"Usage!" echoed the priest, encouraged by the mild tone of the silvan 
leader; "it were usage fit for no hound of good race - much less for a 
Christian - far less for a priest - and least of all for the Prior of the 
holy community of Jorvaulx. Here is a profane and drunken minstrel, called 
Allan-a-Dale - nebulo quidam - who has menaced me with corporal punishment 
- nay, with death itself, an I pay not down four hundred crowns of ransom, 
to the boot of all the treasure he hath already robbed me of - gold chains 
and gymmal rings to an unknown value; besides what is broken and spoiled 
among their rude hands, such as my pouncet-box and silver crisping-tongs."
"It is impossible that Allan-a-Dale can have thus treated a man of your 
reverend bearing," replied the Captain.
"It is true as the gospel of Saint Nicodemus," said the Prior; "he swore, 
with many a cruel north-country oath, that he would hang me up on the 
highest tree in the greenwood."
"Did he so in very deed? Nay, then, reverend father, I think you had better 
comply with his demands - for Allan-a-Dale is the very man to abide by his 
word when he has so pledged it."
"You do but jest with me," said the astounded Prior, with a forced laugh; 
"and I love a good jest with all my heart. But, ha! ha! ha! when the mirth 
has lasted the livelong night, it is time to be grave in the morning."
"And I am as grave as a father confessor," replied the Outlaw; "you must 
pay a round ransom, Sir Prior, or your convent is likely to be called to a 
new election; for your place will know you no more."
"Are ye Christians," said the Prior, "and hold this language to a 
churchman?"
"Christians! ay, marry are we, and have divinity among us to boot," 
answered the Outlaw. "Let our buxom chaplain stand forth, and expound to 
this reverend father the texts which concern this matter."
The Friar, half-drunk, half-sober, had huddled a friar's frock over his 
green cassock, and now summoning together whatever scraps of learning he 
had acquired by rote in former days, "Holy father," said he, "Deus faciat 
salvam benignitatem vestram - You are welcome to the greenwood."
"What profane mummery is this?" said the Prior. "Friend, if thou best 
indeed of the church, it were a better deed to show me how I may escape 
from these men's hands, than to stand ducking and grinning here like a 
morris-dancer."
"Truly, reverend father," said the Friar, "I know but one mode in which 
thou mayst escape. This is Saint Andrew's day with us, we are taking our 
tithes."
"But not of the church, then, I trust, my good brother?" said the Prior.
"Of church and lay," said the Friar; "and therefore, Sir Prior facite vobis 
amicos de Mammone iniquitatis - make yourselves friends of the Mammon of 
unrighteousness, for no other friendship is like to serve your turn."
"I love a jolly woodsman at heart," said the Prior, softening his tone; 
"come, ye must not deal too hard with me - I can well of woodcraft, and can 
wind a horn clear and lustily, and hollo till every oak rings again - Come, 
ye must not deal too hard with me."
"Give him a horn," said the Outlaw; "we will prove the skill he boasts of."
The Prior Aymer winded a blast accordingly. The Captain shook his head.
"Sir Prior," he said, "thou blowest a merry note, but it may not ransom 
thee - we cannot afford, as the legend on a good knight's shield hath it, 
to set thee free for a blast. Moreover, I have found thee - thou art one of 
those, who, with new French graces and Tra-li-ras, disturb the ancient 
English bugle notes. - Prior, that last flourish on the recheat hath added 
fifty crowns to thy ransom, for corrupting the true old manly blasts of 
venerie."
"Well, friend," said the Abbot, peevishly, "thou art ill to please with thy 
woodcraft. I pray thee be more conformable in this matter of my ransom. At 
a word - since I must needs, for once, hold a candle to the devil - what 
ransom am I to pay for walking on Watling-street, without having fifty men 
at my back?"
"Were it not well," said the Lieutenant of the gang apart to the Captain, 
"that the Prior should name the Jew's ransom, and the Jew name the 
Prior's?"
"Thou art a mad knave," said the Captain, "but thy plan transcends! - Here, 
Jew, step forth - Look at that holy Father Aymer, Prior of the rich Abbey 
of Jorvaulx, and tell us at what ransom we should hold him? - Thou knowest 
the income of his convent, I warrant thee."
"O, assuredly," said Isaac. "I have trafficked with the good fathers, and 
bought wheat and barley, and fruits of the earth, and also much wool. O, it 
is a rich abbey-stede, and they do live upon the fat, and drink the sweet 
wines upon the lees, these good fathers of Jorvaulx. Ah, if an outcast like 
me had such a home to go to, and such incomings by the year and by the 
month, I would pay much gold and silver to redeem my captivity."
"Hound of a Jew!" exclaimed the Prior, "no one knows better than thy own 
cursed self, that our holy house of God is indebted for the finishing of 
our chancel - "
"And for the storing of your cellars in the last season with the due 
allowance of Gascon wine," interrupted the Jew; "but that - that is small 
matters."
"Hear the infidel dog!" said the churchman; he jangles as if our holy 
community did come under debts for the wines we have a license to drink, 
propter necessitatem, et ad frigus depellendum. The circumcised villain 
blasphemeth the holy church, and Christian men listen and rebuke him not!"
"All this helps nothing," said the leader. - "Isaac, pronounce what be may 
pay, without flaying both hide and hair."
"An six hundred crowns," said Isaac, "the good Prior might well pay to your 
honoured valours, and never sit less soft in his stall."
"Six hundred crowns," said the leader, gravely; "I am contented - thou hast 
well spoken, Isaac - six hundred crowns. - It is a sentence, Sir Prior."
"A sentence! - a sentence!" exclaimed the band; "Solomon had not done it 
better."
"Thou hearest thy doom, Prior," said the leader.
"Ye are mad, my masters," said the Prior; "where am I to find such a sum? 
If I sell the very pyx and candlesticks on the altar at Jorvaulx, I shall 
scarce raise the half; and it will be necessary for that purpose that I go 
to Jorvaulx myself; ye may retain as borrows my two priests."
"That will be but blind trust," said the Outlaw; "we will retain thee, 
Prior, and send them to fetch thy ransom. Thou shalt not want a cup of wine 
and a collop of venison the while; and if thou lovest woodcraft, thou shalt 
see such as your north country never witnessed."
"Or, if so please you," said Isaac, willing to curry favour with the 
outlaws, "I can send to York for the six hundred crowns, out of certain 
monies in my hands, if so be that the most reverend Prior present will 
grant me a quittance."
"He shall grant thee whatever thou dost list, Isaac," said the Captain; 
"and thou shalt lay down the redemption money for Prior Aymer as well as 
for thyself."
"For myself! ah, courageous sirs," said the Jew, "I am a broken and 
impoverished man; a beggar's staff must be my portion through life, 
supposing I were to pay you fifty crowns."
"The Prior shall judge of that matter," replied the Captain. - "How say 
you, Father Aymer? Can the Jew afford a good ransom?"
"Can he afford a ransom?" answered the Prior "Is he not Isaac of York, rich 
enough to redeem the captivity of the ten tribes of Israel, who were led 
into Assyrian bondage? - I have seen but little of him myself, but our 
cellarer and treasurer have dealt largely with him, and report says that 
his house at York is so full of gold and silver as is a shame in any 
Christian land. Marvel it is to all living Christian hearts that such 
gnawing adders should be suffered to eat into the bowels of the state, and 
even of the holy church herself, with foul usuries and extortions."
"Hold, father," said the Jew, "mitigate and assuage your choler. I pray of 
your reverence to remember that I force my monies upon no one. But when 
churchman and layman, prince and prior, knight and priest, come knocking to 
Isaac's door, they borrow not his shekels with these uncivil terms. It is 
then, Friend Isaac, will you pleasure us in this matter, and our day shall 
be truly kept, so God sa' me? - and Kind Isaac, if ever you served man, 
show yourself a friend in this need! And when the day comes, and I ask my 
own, then what hear I but Damned Jew, and The curse of Egypt on your tribe, 
and all that may stir up the rude and uncivil populace against poor 
strangers! "
"Prior," said the Captain, "Jew though he be, he hath in this spoken well. 
Do thou, therefore, name his ransom, as he named thine, without farther 
rude terms."
"None but latro famosus - the interpretation whereof," said the Prior, 
"will I give at some other time and tide - would place a Christian prelate 
and an unbaptised Jew upon the same bench. But since ye require me to put a 
price upon this caitiff, I tell you openly that ye will wrong yourselves if 
you take from him a penny under a thousand crowns."
"A sentence! - a sentence!" exclaimed the chief Outlaw.
"A sentence! - a sentence!" shouted his assessors; "the Christian has shown 
his good nurture, and dealt with us more generously than the Jew."
"The God of my fathers help me!" said the Jew; "will ye bear to the ground 
an impoverished creature? - I am this day childless, and will ye deprive me 
of the means of livelihood?"
"Thou wilt have the less to provide for, Jew, if thou art childless," said 
Aymer.
"Alas! my lord," said Isaac, "your law permits you not to know how the 
child of our bosom is entwined with the strings of our heart - O Rebecca! 
laughter of my beloved Rachel! were each leaf on that tree a zecchin, and 
each zecchin mine own, all that mass of wealth would I give to know whether 
thou art alive, and escaped the hands of the Nazarene!"
"Was not thy daughter dark-haired?" said one of the outlaws; "and wore she 
not a veil of twisted sendal, broidered with silver?"
"She did! - she did!" said the old man, trembling with eagerness, as 
formerly with fear. "The blessing of Jacob be upon thee! canst thou tell me 
aught of her safety?"
"It was she, then," said the yeoman, "who was carried off by the proud 
Templar, when he broke through our ranks on yestereven. I had drawn my bow 
to send a shaft after him, but spared him even for the sake of the damsel, 
who I feared might take harm from the arrow."
"Oh!" answered the Jew, "I would to God thou hadst shot, though the arrow 
had pierced her bosom! - Better the tomb of her fathers than the 
dishonourable couch of the licentious and savage Templar. Ichabod! Ichabod! 
the glory hath departed from my house!"
"Friends," said the Chief, looking round, "the old man is but a Jew, 
natheless his grief touches me. - Deal uprightly with us, Isaac - will 
paying this ransom of a thousand crowns leave thee altogether penniless?"
Isaac, recalled to think of his worldly goods, the love of which, by dint 
of inveterate habit, contended even with his parental affection, grew pale, 
stammered, and could not deny there might be some small surplus.
"Well - go to - what though there be," said the Outlaw, "we will not reckon 
with thee too closely. Without treasure thou mayst as well hope to redeem 
thy child from the clutches of Sir Brian de Bois-Guilbert, as to shoot a 
stag-royal with a headless shaft. - We will take thee at the same ransom 
with Prior Aymer, or rather at one hundred crowns lower, which hundred 
crowns shall be mine own peculiar loss, and not light upon this worshipful 
community; and so we shall avoid the heinous offence of rating a Jew 
merchant as high as a Christian prelate, and thou wilt have six hundred 
crowns remaining to treat for thy daughter's ransom. Templars love the 
glitter of silver shekels as well as the sparkle of black eyes. - Hasten to 
make thy crowns chink in the ear of De Bois-Guilbert, ere worse comes of 
it. Thou wilt find him, as our scouts have brought notice, at the next 
Preceptory house of his Order. - Said I well, my merry mates?"
The yeomen expressed their wonted acquiescence in their leader's opinion; 
and Isaac, relieved of one half of his apprehensions, by learning that his 
daughter lived, and might possibly be ransomed, threw himself at the feet 
of the generous Outlaw, and, rubbing his beard against his buskins, sought 
to kiss the hem of his green cassock. The Captain drew himself back, and 
extricated himself from the Jew's grasp, not without some marks of 
contempt.
"Nay, beshrew thee, man, up with thee! I am English born, and love no such 
Eastern prostrations - Kneel to God, and not to a poor sinner, like me."
"Ay, Jew," said Prior Aymer; "kneel to God, as represented in the servant 
of his altar, and who knows, with thy sincere repentance and due gifts to 
the shrine of Saint Robert, what grace thou mayst acquire for thyself and 
thy daughter Rebecca? I grieve for the maiden, for she is of fair and 
comely countenance, - I beheld her in the lists of Ashby. Also Brian de 
Bois-Guilbert is one with whom I may do much - bethink thee how thou mayst 
deserve my good word with him."
"Alas! alas!" said the Jew, "on every hand the spoilers arise against me - 
I am given as a prey unto the Assyrian, and a prey unto him of Egypt."
"And what else should be the lot of thy accursed race?" answered the Prior; 
"for what saith holy writ, verbum Dominii projecterunt, et sapientia est 
nulla in eis - they have cast forth the word of the Lord, and there is no 
wisdom in them; propterea dabo mulieres eorum exteris - I will give their 
women to strangers, that is to the Templar, as in the present matter; et 
thesauros eorum haeredibus alienis, and their treasures to others - as in 
the present case to these honest gentlemen."
Isaac groaned deeply, and began to wring his hands, and to relapse into his 
state of desolation and despair. But the leader of the yeomen led him 
aside.
"Advise thee well, Isaac," said Locksley, "what thou wilt do in this 
matter; my counsel to thee is to make a friend of this churchman. He is 
vain, Isaac, and he is covetous; at least he needs money to supply his 
profusion. Thou canst easily gratify his greed; for think not that I am 
blinded by thy pretexts of poverty. I am intimately acquainted, Isaac, with 
the very iron chest in which thou dost keep thy money-bags - What! know I 
not the great stone beneath the apple-tree, that leads into the vaulted 
chamber under thy garden at York?" The Jew grew as pale as death - "But 
fear nothing from me," continued the yeoman, "for we are of old acquainted. 
Dost thou not remember the sick yeoman whom thy fair daughter Rebecca 
redeemed from the gyves at York, and kept him in thy house till his health 
was restored, when thou didst dismiss him recovered, and with a piece of 
money? - Usurer as thou art, thou didst never place coin at better interest 
than that poor silver mark, for it has this day saved thee five hundred 
crowns."
"And thou art he whom we called Diccon Bend-the-Bow?" said Isaac; "I 
thought ever I knew the accent of thy voice."
"I am Bend-the-Bow," said the Captain, "and Locksley, and have a good name 
besides all these."
"But thou art mistaken, good Bend-the-Bow, concerning that same vaulted 
apartment. So help me Heaven, as there is nought in it but some 
merchandises which I will gladly part with to you - one hundred yards of 
Lincoln green to make doublets to thy men, and a hundred staves of Spanish 
yew to make bows, and a hundred silken bowstrings, tough, round, and sound 
- these will I send thee for thy good-will, honest Diccon, an thou wilt 
keep silence about the vault, my good Diccon."
"Silent as a dormouse," said the Outlaw; "and never trust me but I am 
grieved for thy daughter. But I may not help it - The Templars lances are 
too strong for my archery in the open field - they would scatter us like 
dust. Had I but known it was Rebecca when she was borne off, something 
might have been done; but now thou must needs proceed by policy. Come, 
shall I treat for thee with the Prior?"
"In God's name, Diccon, an thou canst, aid me to recover the child of my 
bosom!"
"Do not thou interrupt me with thine ill-timed avarice," said the Outlaw, 
"and I will deal with him in thy behalf."
He then turned from the Jew, who followed him, however, as closely as his 
shadow.
"Prior Aymer," said the Captain, "come apart with me under this tree. Men 
say thou dost love wine, and a lady's smile, better than beseems thy Order, 
Sir Priest; but with that I have nought to do. I have heard, too, thou dost 
love a brace of good dogs and a fleet horse, and it may well be that, 
loving things which are costly to come by, thou hatest not a purse of gold. 
But I have never heard that thou didst love oppression or cruelty. - Now, 
here is Isaac willing to give thee the means of pleasure and pastime in a 
bag containing one hundred marks of silver, if thy intercession with thine 
ally the Templar shall avail to procure the freedom of his daughter."
"In safety and honour, as when taken from me," said the Jew, "otherwise it 
is no bargain."
"Peace, Isaac," said the Outlaw, "or I give up thine interest. - What say 
you to this my purpose, Prior Aymer?"
"The matter," quoth the Prior, "is of a mixed condition; for, if I do a 
good deal on the one hand, yet, on the other, it goeth to the vantage of a 
Jew, and in so much is against my conscience. Yet, if the Israelite will 
advantage the Church by giving me somewhat over to the building of our 
dortour, I will take it on my conscience to aid him in the matter of his 
daughter."
"For a score of marks to the dortour," said the Outlaw, - "Be still, I say, 
Isaac! - or for a brace of silver candlesticks to the altar, we will not 
stand with you."
"Nay, but, good Diccon Bend-the-Bow" - said Isaac, endeavouring to 
interpose.
"Good Jew - good beast - good earthworm!" said the yeoman, losing patience; 
"an thou dost go on to put thy filthy lucre in the balance with thy 
daughter's life and honour, by Heaven, I will strip thee of every maravedi 
thou hast in the world, before three days are out!"
Isaac shrunk together, and was silent.
"And what pledge am I to have for all this?" said the Prior.
"When Isaac returns successful through your mediation," said the Outlaw, "I 
swear by Saint Hubert, I will see that he pays thee the money in good 
silver, or I will reckon with him for it in such sort, he had better have 
paid twenty such sums."
"Well then, Jew," said Aymer, "since I must needs meddle in this matter, 
let me have the use of thy writing-tablets - though, hold - rather than use 
thy pen, I would fast for twenty-four hours, and where shall I find one?"
"If your holy scruples can dispense with using the Jew's tablets, for the 
pen I can find a remedy," said the yeoman; and, bending his bow, he aimed 
his shaft at a wild-goose which was soaring over their heads, the advanced-
guard of a phalanx of his tribe, which were winging their way to the 
distant and solitary fens of Holderness. The bird came fluttering down, 
transfixed with the arrow.
"There, Prior," said the Captain, "are quills enow to supply all the monks 
of Jorvaulx for the next hundred years, an they take not to writing 
chronicles."
The Prior sat down, and at great leisure indited an epistle to Brian de 
Bois-Guilbert, and having carefully sealed up the tablets, delivered them 
to the Jew, saying, "This will be thy safe-conduct to the Preceptory of 
Templestowe, and, as I think, is most likely to accomplish the delivery of 
thy daughter, if it be well backed with proffers of advantage and commodity 
at thine own hand; for, trust me well, the good Knight Bois-Guilbert is of 
their confraternity that do nought for nought."
"Well, Prior," said the Outlaw, "I will detain thee no longer here than to 
give the Jew a quittance for the six hundred crowns at which thy ransom is 
fixed - I accept of him for my pay-master; and if I hear that ye boggle at 
allowing him in his accompts the sum so paid by him, Saint Mary refuse me, 
an I burn not the abbey over thine head, though I hang ten years the 
sooner!"
With a much worse grace than that wherewith he had penned the letter to 
Bois-Guilbert, the Prior wrote an acquittance, discharging Isaac of York of 
six hundred crowns, advanced to him in his need for acquittal of his 
ransom, and faithfully promising to hold true compt with him for that sum.
"And now," said Prior Aymer, "I will pray you of restitution of my mules 
and palfreys, and the freedom of the reverend brethren attending upon me, 
and also of the gymmal rings, jewels, and fair vestures, of which I have 
been despoiled, having now satisfied you for my ransom as a true prisoner."
"Touching your brethren, Sir Prior," said Locksley, "they shall have 
present freedom, it were unjust to detain them; touching your horses and 
mules, they shall also be restored, with such spending-money as may enable 
you to reach York, for it were cruel to deprive you of the means of 
journeying. - But as concerning rings, jewels, chains, and what else, you 
must understand that we are men of tender consciences, and will not yield 
to a venerable man like yourself, who should be dead to the vanities of 
this life, the strong temptation to break the rule of his foundation, by 
wearing rings, chains, or other vain gauds."
"Think what you do, my masters," said the Prior, "ere you put your hand on 
the Church's patrimony - These things are inter res sacras, and I wot not 
what judgement might ensue were they to be handled by laical hands."
"I will take care of that, reverend Prior," said the Hermit of Copmanhurst; 
"for I will wear them myself."
"Friend, or brother," said the Prior, in answer to this solution of his 
doubts, "if thou hast really taken religious orders, I pray thee to look 
how thou wilt answer to thine official for the share thou hast taken in 
this day's work."
"Friend Prior," returned the Hermit, "you are to know that I belong to a 
little diocese, where I am my own diocesan, and care as little for the 
Bishop of York as I do for the Abbot of Jorvaulx, the Prior, and all the 
convent."
"Thou art utterly irregular," said the Prior; "one of those disorderly men, 
who, taking on them the sacred character without due cause, profane the 
holy rites, and endanger the souls of those who take counsel at their 
hands; lapides pro pane condonantes iis, giving them stones instead of 
bread as the Vulgate hath it."
"Nay," said the Friar, "an my brain-pan could have been broken by Latin, it 
had not held so long together. - I say, that easing a world of such 
misproud priests as thou art of their jewels and their gimcracks, is a 
lawful spoiling of the Egyptians."
"Thou be'st a hedge-priest," said the Prior, in great wrath, "excommuicabo 
vos."
"Thou best thyself more like a thief and a heretic," said the Friar, 
equally indignant; "I will pouch up no such affront before my parishioners, 
as thou thinkest it not shame to put upon me, although I be a reverend 
brother to thee. Ossa ejus perfringam, I will break your bones, as the 
Vulgate hath it."
"Hola!" cried the Captain, "come the reverend brethren to such terms? - 
Keep thine assurance of peace, Friar. - Prior, an thou hast not made thy 
peace perfect with God, provoke the Friar no further. - Hermit, let the 
reverend father depart in peace, as a ransomed man."
The yeomen separated the incensed priests, who continued to raise their 
voices, vituperating each other in bad Latin, which the Prior delivered the 
more fluently, and the Hermit with the greater vehemence. The Prior at 
length recollected himself sufficiently to be aware that he was 
compromising his dignity, by squabbling with such a hedge-priest as the 
Outlaw's chaplain, and being joined by his attendants, rode off with 
considerably less pomp, and in a much more apostolical condition, so far as 
worldly matters were concerned, than he had exhibited before this 
rencounter.
It remained that the Jew should produce some security for the ransom which 
he was to pay on the Prior's account, as well as upon his own. He gave, 
accordingly, an order sealed with his signet, to a brother of his tribe at 
York, requiring him to pay to the bearer the sum of a thousand crowns, and 
to deliver certain merchandises specified in the note.
"My brother Sheva," he said, groaning deeply, "hath the key of my 
warehouses."
"And of the vaulted chamber," whispered Locksley.
"No, no - may Heaven forefend!" said Isaac; "evil is the hour that let any 
one whomsoever into that secret!"
"It is safe with me," said the Outlaw, "so be that this thy scroll produce 
the sum therein nominated and set down. - But what now, Isaac? art dead? 
art stupefied? hath the payment of a thousand crowns put thy daughter's 
peril out of thy mind?"
The Jew started to his feet - "No, Diccon, no - I will presently set forth. 
- Farewell, thou whom I may not call good, and dare not and will not call 
evil."
Yet ere Isaac departed, the Outlaw Chief bestowed on him this parting 
advice: - "Be liberal of thine offers, Isaac, and spare not thy purse for 
thy daughter's safety. Credit me, that the gold thou shalt spare in her 
cause, will hereafter give thee as much agony as if it were poured molten 
down thy throat."
Isaac acquiesced with a deep groan, and set forth on his journey, 
accompanied by two tall foresters, who were to be his guides, and at the 
same time his guards, through the wood.
The Black Knight, who had seen with no small interest these various 
proceedings, now took his leave of the Outlaw in turn; nor could he avoid 
expressing his surprise at having witnessed so much of civil policy amongst 
persons cast out from all the ordinary protection and influence of the 
laws.
"Good fruit, Sir Knight," said the yeoman, "will sometimes grow on a sorry 
tree; and evil times are not always productive of evil alone and unmixed. 
Amongst those who are drawn into this lawless state, there are, doubtless, 
numbers who wish to exercise its license with some moderation, and some who 
regret, it may be, that they are obliged to follow such a trade at all."
"And to one of those," said the Knight, "I am now, I presume, speaking?"
"Sir Knight," said the Outlaw, "we have each our secret. You are welcome to 
form your judgement of me, and I may use my conjectures touching you, 
though neither of our shafts may hit the mark they are shot at. But as I do 
not pray to be admitted into your mystery, be not offended that I preserve 
my own."
"I crave pardon, brave Outlaw," said the Knight, "your reproof is just. But 
it may be we shall meet hereafter with less of concealment on either side. 
- Meanwhile we part friends, do we not?"
"There is my hand upon it," said Locksley; "and I will call it the hand of 
a true Englishman, though an outlaw for the present."
"And there is mine in return," said the Knight, "and I hold it honoured by 
being clasped with yours. For he that does good, having the unlimited power 
to do evil, deserves praise not only for the good which he performs, but 
for the evil which he forbears. Fare thee well, gallant Outlaw!"
Thus parted that fair fellowship; and He of the Fetterlock, mounting upon 
his strong war-horse, rode off through the forest.



Chapter 34

King John.	I'll tell thee what, my friend,
		He is a very serpent in my way;
		And wheresoe'er this foot of mine doth tread,
		He lies before me. - Dost thou understand me?
								-- King John.


There was brave feasting in the Castle of York, to which Prince John had 
invited those nobles, prelates, and leaders, by whose assistance he hoped 
to carry through his ambitious projects upon his brother's throne. Waldemar 
Fitzurse, his able and politic agent, was at secret work among them, 
tempering all to that pitch of courage which was necessary in making an 
open declaration of their purpose. But their enterprise was delayed by the 
absence of more than one main limb of the confederacy. The stubborn and 
daring, though brutal courage of Front-de-Boeuf; the buoyant spirits and 
bold bearing of De Bracy; the sagacity, martial experience, and renowned 
valour of Brian de Bois-Guilbert, were important to the success of their 
conspiracy; and, while cursing in secret their unnecessary and unmeaning 
absence, neither John nor his adviser dared to proceed without them. Isaac 
the Jew also seemed to have vanished, and with him the hope of certain sums 
of money, making up the subsidy for which Prince John had contracted with 
that Israelite and his brethren. This deficiency was likely to prove 
perilous in an emergency so critical.
It was on the morning after the fall of Torquilstone, that a confused 
report began to spread abroad in the city of York, that De Bracy and Bois-
Guilbert, with their confederate Front-de-Boeuf, had been taken or slain. 
Waldemar brought the rumour to Prince John, announcing, that he feared its 
truth the more that they had set out with a small attendance, for the 
purpose of committing an assault on the Saxon Cedric and his attendants. At 
another time the Prince would have treated this deed of violence as a good 
jest; but now, that it interfered with and impeded his own plans, he 
exclaimed against the perpetrators, and spoke of the broken laws, and the 
infringement of public order and of private property, in a tone which might 
have become King Alfred.
"The unprincipled marauders," he said - "were I ever to become monarch of 
England, I would hang such transgressors over the drawbridges of their own 
castles."
"But to become monarch of England," said his Ahithophel coolly, "it is 
necessary not only that your Grace should endure the transgressions of 
these unprincipled marauders, but that you should afford them your 
protection, notwithstanding your laudable zeal for the laws they are in the 
habit of infringing. We shall be finely helped, if the churl Saxons should 
have realised your Grace's vision, of converting feudal drawbridges into 
gibbets; and yonder bold-spirited Cedric seemeth one to whom such an 
imagination might occur. Your Grace is well aware, it will be dangerous to 
stir without Front-de-Boeuf, De Bracy, and the Templar; and yet we have 
gone too far to recede with safety."
Prince John struck his forehead with impatience, and then began to stride 
up and down the apartent.
"The villains," he said, "the base treacherous villains, to desert me at 
this pinch!"
"Nay, say rather the feather-pated giddy madmen," said Waldemar, "who must 
be toying with follies when such business was in hand."
"What is to be done?" said the Prince, stopping short before Waldemar.
"I know nothing which can be done," answered his counsellor, "save that 
which I have already taken order for. - I came not to bewail this evil 
chance with your Grace, until I had done my best to remedy it."
"Thou art ever my better angel, Waldemar," said the Prince; "and when I 
have such a chancellor to advise withal, the reign of John will be renowned 
in our annals. - What hast thou commanded?"
"I have ordered Louis Winkelbrand, De Bracy's lieutenant, to cause his 
trumpet sound to horse, and to display his banner, and to set presently 
forth towards the castle of Front-de-Boeuf, to do what yet may be done for 
the succour of our friends."
Prince John's face flushed with the pride of a spoilt child, who has 
undergone what it conceives to be an insult.
"By the face of God!" he said, "Waldemar Fitzurse, much hast thou taken 
upon thee! and over malapert thou wert to cause trumpet to blow, or banner 
to be raised, in a town where ourselves were in presence, without our 
express command."
"I crave your Grace's pardon," said Fitzurse, internally cursing the idle 
vanity of his patron; "but when time pressed, and even the loss of minutes 
might be fatal, I judged it best to take this much burden upon me, in a 
matter of such importance to your Grace's interest."
"Thou art pardoned, Fitzurse," said the prince, gravely; "thy purpose hath 
atoned for thy hasty rashness. - But whom have we here? - De Bracy himself, 
by the rood! - and in strange guise doth he come before us."
It was indeed De Bracy - "bloody with spurring, fiery red with speed." His 
armour bore all the marks of the late obstinate fray, being broken, 
defaced, and stained with blood in many places, and covered with clay and 
dust from the crest to the spur. Undoing his helmet, he placed it on the 
table, and stood a moment as if to collect himself before be told his news.
"De Bracy," said Prince John, "what means this? - Speak, I charge thee! - 
Are the Saxons in rebellion?"
"Speak, De Bracy," said Fitzurse, almost in the same moment with his 
master, "thou wert wont to be a man - Where is the Templar? - where Front-
de-Boeuf?"
"The Templar is fled," said De Bracy; "Front-de-Boeuf you will never see 
more. He has found a red grave among the blazing rafters of his own castle 
and I alone am escaped to tell you."
"Cold news," said Waldemar, "to us, though you speak of fire and 
conflagration."
"The worst news is not yet said," answered De Bracy; and, coming up to 
Prince John, he uttered in a low and emphatic tone - "Richard is in England 
- I have seen and spoken with him."
Prince John turned pale, tottered, and caught at the back of an oaken bench 
to support himself - much like to a man who receives an arrow in his bosom.
"Thou ravest, De Bracy," said Fitzurse, "it cannot be."
"It is as true as truth itself," said De Bracy; "I was his prisoner, and 
spoke with him."
"With Richard Plantagenet, sayst thou?" continued Fitzurse.
"With Richard Plantagenet," replied De Bracy, with Richard Coeur-de-Lion - 
with Richard of England."
"And thou wert his prisoner?" said Waldemar; "he is then at the head of a 
power?"
"No - only a few outlawed yeomen were around him, and to these his person 
is unknown. I heard him say he was about to depart from them. He joined 
them only to assist at the storming of Torquilstone."
"Ay," said Fitzurse, "such is indeed the fashion of Richard - a true knight-
errant he, and will wander in wild adventure, trusting the prowess of his 
single arm, like any Sir Guy or Sir Bevis, while the weighty affairs of his 
kingdom slumber, and his own safety is endangered. - What dost thou propose 
to do De Bracy?"
"I? - I offered Richard the service of my Free Lances, and he refused them 
- I will lead them to Hull, seize on shipping, and embark for Flanders; 
thanks to the bustling times, a man of action will always find employment. 
And thou, Waldemar, wilt thou take lance and shield, and lay down thy 
policies, and wend along with me, and share the fate which God sends us?"
"I am too old, Maurice, and I have a daughter," answered Waldemar.
"Give her to me, Fitzurse, and I will maintain her as fits her rank, with 
the help of lance and stirrup," said De Bracy.
"Not so," answered Fitzurse; "I will take sanctuary in this church of Saint 
Peter - the Archbishop is my sworn brother.'
During this discourse, Prince John had gradually awakened from the stupor 
into which he had been thrown by the unexpected intelligence, and had been 
attentive to the conversation which passed betwixt his followers. "They 
fall off from me," he said to himself, "they hold no more by me than a 
withered leaf by the bough when a breeze blows on it? - Hell and fiends! 
can I shape no means for myself when I am deserted by these cravens?" - He 
paused, and there was an expression of diabolical passion in the 
constrained laugh with which he at length broke in on their conversation.
"Ha, ha, ha! my good lords, by the light of Our Lady's brow, I held ye sage 
men, bold men, ready-witted men; yet ye throw down wealth, honour, 
pleasure, all that our noble game promised you, at the moment it might be 
won by one bold cast!"
"I understand you not," said De Bracy. "As soon as Richard's return is 
blown abroad, he will be at the head of an army, and all is then over with 
us. I would counsel you, my lord, either to fly to France or take the 
protection of the Queen Mother."
"I seek no safety for myself," said Prince John, haughtily; "that I could 
secure by a word spoken to my brother. But although you, De Bracy, and you, 
Waldemar Fitzurse, are so ready to abandon me, I should not greatly delight 
to see your heads blackening on Clifford's gate yonder. Thinkest thou, 
Waldemar, that the wily Archbishop will not suffer thee to be taken from 
the very horns of the altar, would it make his peace with King Richard? And 
forgettest thou, De Bracy, that Robert Estoteville lies betwixt thee and 
Hull with all his forces, and that the Earl of Essex is gathering his 
followers? If we had reason to fear these levies even before Richard's 
return, trowest thou there is any doubt now which party their leaders will 
take? Trust me, Estoteville alone has strength enough to drive all thy Free 
Lances into the Humber. - " Waldemar Fitzurse and De Bracy looked in each 
other's faces with blank dismay. - "There is but one road to safety," 
continued the Prince, and his brow grew black as midnight; "this object of 
our terror journeys alone - He must be met withal."
"Not by me," said De Bracy, hastily; "I was his prisoner, and he took me to 
mercy. I will not harm a feather in his crest."
"Who spoke of harming him?" said Prince John, with a hardened laugh; "the 
knave will say next that I meant he should slay him! - No - a prison were 
better; and whether in Britain or Austria, what matters it? - Things will 
be but as they were when we commenced our enterprise - It was founded on 
the hope that Richard would remain a captive in Germany - Our uncle Robert 
lived and died in the castle of Cardiff."
"Ay, but," said Waldemar, "your sire Henry sate more firm in his seat than 
your Grace can. I say the best prison is that which is made by the sexton - 
no dungeon like a church-vault! I have said my say."
"Prison or tomb," said De Bracy, "I wash my hands of the whole matter."
"Villain!" said Prince John, "thou wouldst not bewray our counsel?"
"Counsel was never bewrayed by me," said De Bracy, haughtily, "nor must the 
name of villain be coupled with mine!"
"Peace, Sir Knight!" said Waldemar; "and you, good my lord, forgive the 
scruples of valiant De Bracy; I trust I shall soon remove them."
"That passes your eloquence, Fitzurse," replied the Knight.
"Why, good Sir Maurice," rejoined the wily politician, "start not aside 
like a scared steed, without, at least, considering the object of your 
terror. - This Richard - but a day since, and it would have been thy 
dearest wish to have met him hand to hand in the ranks of battle - a 
hundred times I have heard thee wish it."
"Ay," said De Bracy, "but that was as thou sayst, hand to hand, and in the 
ranks of battle! Thou never heardest me breathe a thought of assaulting him 
alone, and in a forest."
"Thou art no good knight if thou dost scruple at it," said Waldemar. "Was 
it in battle that Lancelot de Lac and Sir Tristram won renown? or was it 
not by encountering gigantic knights under the shade of deep and unknown 
forests?"
"Ay, but I promise you," said De Bracy, "that neither Tristram nor Lancelot 
would have been match, hand to hand, for Richard Plantagenet, and I think 
it was not their wont to take odds against a single man."	
"Thou art mad, De Bracy - what is it we propose to thee, a hired and 
retained captain of Free Companions, whose swords are purchased for Prince 
John's service? Thou art apprised of our enemy, and then thou scruplest, 
though thy patron's fortunes, those of thy comrades, thine own, and the 
life and honour of every one amongst us, be at stake!"
"I tell you," said De Bracy, sullenly, "that he gave me my life. True, he 
sent me from his presence, and refused my homage - so far I owe him neither 
favour nor allegiance - but I will not lift hand against him."
"It needs not - send Louis Winkelbrand and a score of thy lances."
"Ye have sufficient ruffians of your own," said De Bracy; "not one of mine 
shall budge on such an errand."
"Art thou so obstinate, De Bracy?" said Prince John; "and wilt thou forsake 
me, after so many protestations of zeal for my service?"
"I mean it not," said De Bracy; "I will abide by you in aught that becomes 
a knight, whether in the lists or in the camp; but this highway practice 
comes not within my vow."
"Come hither, Waldemar," said Prince John. "An unhappy prince am I. My 
father, King Henry, had faithful servants - He had but to say that he was 
plagued with a factious priest, and the blood of Thomas-a-Becket, saint 
though he was, stained the steps of his own altar. - Tracy, Morville, Brito 
loyal and daring subjects, your names, your spirit, are extinct! and 
although Reginald Fitzurse hath left a son, he hath fallen off from his 
father's fidelity and courage."
"He has fallen off from neither," said Waldemar Fitzurse; "and since it may 
not better be, I will take on me the conduct of this perilous enterprise. 
Dearly, however, did my father purchase the praise of a zealous friend; and 
yet did his proof of loyalty to Henry fall far short of what I am about to 
afford; for rather would I assail a whole calendar of saints, than put 
spear in rest against Coeur-de-Lion. - De Bracy, to thee I must trust to 
keep up the spirits of the doubtful, and to guard Prince John's person. If 
you receive such news as I trust to send you, our enterprise will no longer 
wear a doubtful aspect. - Page," he said, "hie to my lodgings, and tell my 
armourer to be there in readiness; and bid Stephen Wetheral, Broad 
Thoresby, and the Three Spears of Spyinghow, come to me instantly; and let 
the scout-master, Hugh Bardon, attend me also. - Adieu, my Prince, till 
better times." Thus speaking, he left the apartment. "He goes to make my 
brother prisoner," said Prince John to De Bracy, "with as little touch of 
compunction, as if it but concerned the liberty of a Saxon franklin. I 
trust he will observe our orders, and use our dear Richard's person with 
all due respect."
De Bracy only answered by a smile.
"By the light of Our Lady's brow," said Prince John, "our orders to him 
were most precise - though it may be you heard them not, as we stood 
together in the oriel window - Most clear and positive was our charge that 
Richard's safety should be cared for, and woe to Waldemar's head if he 
transgress it!"
"I had better pass to his lodgings," said De Bracy, "and make him fully 
aware of your Grace's pleasure; for, as it quite escaped my ear, it may not 
perchance have reached that of Waldemar."
"Nay, nay," said Prince John, impatiently, "I promise thee he heard me; 
and, besides, I have farther occupation for thee. Maurice, come hither; let 
me lean on thy shoulder."
They walked a turn through the hall in this familiar posture, and Prince 
John, with an air of the most confidential intimacy, proceeded to say, 
"What thinkest thou of this Waldemar Fitzurse, my De Bracy? - He trusts to 
be our Chancellor. Surely we will pause ere we give an office so high to 
one who shows evidently how little he reverences our blood, by his so 
readily undertaking this enterprise against Richard. Thou dost think, I 
warrant, that thou hast lost somewhat of our regard, by thy boldly 
declining this unpleasing task - But no, Maurice! I rather honour thee for 
thy virtuous constancy. There are things most necessary to be done, the 
perpetrator of which we neither love nor honour; and there may be refusals 
to serve us, which shall rather exalt in our estimation those who deny our 
request. The arrest of my unfortunate brother forms no such good title to 
the high office of Chancellor, as thy chivalrous and courageous denial 
establishes in thee to the truncheon of High Marshal. Think of this, De 
Bracy, and begone to thy charge."
"Fickle tyrant!" muttered De Bracy, as he left the presence of the Prince; 
"evil luck have they who trust thee. Thy Chancellor, indeed! - He who hath 
the keeping of thy conscience shall have an easy charge, I trow. But High 
Marshal of England! that," he said, extending his arm, as if to grasp the 
baton of office, and assuming a loftier stride along the antechamber, "that 
is indeed a prize worth playing for!"
De Bracy had no sooner left the apartment than Prince John summoned an 
attendant.
"Bid Hugh Bardon, our scout-master, come hither, as soon as he shall have 
spoken with Waldemar Fitzurse."
The scout-master arrived after a brief delay, during which John traversed 
the apartment with, unequal and disordered steps.
"Bardon," said he, "what did Waldemar desire of thee?"
"Two resolute men, well acquainted with these northern wilds, and skilful 
in tracking the tread of man and horse."
"And thou hast fitted him?"
"Let your grace never trust me else," answered the master of the spies. 
"One is from Hexamshire; he is wont to trace the Tynedale and Teviotdale 
thieves, as a bloodhound follows the slot of a hurt deer. The other is 
Yorkshire bred, and has twanged his bowstring right oft in merry Sherwood; 
he knows each glade and dingle, copse and high-wood, betwixt this and 
Richmond."
"'Tis well," said the Prince. - "Goes Waldemar forth with them?"
"Instantly," said Bardon.
"With what attendance?" asked John, carelessly.
"Broad Thoresby goes with him, and Wetheral, whom they call, for his 
cruelty, Stephen Steel-heart; and three northern men-at-arms that belonged 
to Ralph Middleton's gang - they are called the Spears of Spyinghow."
"'Tis well," said Prince John; then added, after a moment's pause, "Bardon, 
it imports our service that thou keep a strict watch on Maurice De Bracy - 
so that he shall not observe it, however - And let us know of his motions 
from time to time - with whom he converses, what he proposeth. Fail not in 
this, as thou wilt be answerable."
Hugh Bardon bowed, and retired.
"If Maurice betrays me," said Prince John - "if he betrays me, as his 
bearing leads me to fear, I will have his head, were Richard thundering at 
the gates of York."


Chapter 35

			Arouse the tiger of Hyrcanian deserts,
			Strive with the half-starved lion for his prey;
			Lesser the risk, than rouse the slumbering fire
			Of wild Fanaticism.
							-- Anonymous.


Our tale now returns to Isaac of York. - Mounted upon a mule, the gift of 
the Outlaw, with two tall yeomen to act as his guard and guides, the Jew 
had set out for the Preceptory of Templestowe, for the purpose of 
negotiating his daughter's redemption. The Preceptory was but a day's 
journey from the demolished castle of Torquilstone, and the Jew had hoped 
to reach it before nightfall; accordingly, having dismissed his guides at 
the verge of the forest, and rewarded them with a piece of silver, he began 
to press on with such speed as his weariness permitted him to exert. But 
his strength failed him totally ere he had reached within four miles of the 
Temple-Court; racking pains shot along his back and through his limbs, and 
the excessive anguish which he felt at heart being now augmented by bodily 
suffering, he was rendered altogether incapable of proceeding farther than 
a small market-town, were dwelt a Jewish Rabbi of his tribe, eminent in the 
medical profession, and to whom Isaac was well known. Nathan Ben Israel 
received his suffering countryman with that kindness which the law 
prescribed, and which the Jews practised to each other. He insisted on his 
betaking himself to repose, and used such remedies as were then in most 
repute to check the progress of the fever, which terror, fatigue, ill 
usage, and sorrow, had brought upon the poor old Jew.
On the morrow, when Isaac proposed to arise and pursue his journey, Nathan 
remonstrated against his purpose, both as his host and as his physician. It 
might cost him, he said, his life. But Isaac replied, that more than life 
and death depended upon his going that morning to Templestowe.
"To Templestowe!" said his host with surprise again felt his pulse, and 
then muttered to himself, "His fever is abated, yet seems his mind somewhat 
alienated and disturbed."
"And why not to Templestowe?" answered his patient. "I grant thee, Nathan, 
that it is a dwelling of those to whom the despised Children of the Promise 
are a stumbling-block and an abomination; yet thou knowest that pressing 
affairs of traffic sometimes carry us among these bloodthirsty Nazarene 
soldiers, and that we visit the preceptories of the Templars, as well as 
the commanderies of the Knights Hospitallers, as they are called."
"I know it well," said Nathan; "but wottest thou that Lucas de Beaumanoir, 
the chief of their Order, and whom they term Grand Master, is now himself 
at Templestowe?"
"I know it not," said Isaac; "our last letters from our brethren at Paris 
advised us that he was at that city, beseeching Philip for aid against the 
Sultan Saladine."
"He hath since come to England, unexpected by his brethren," said Ben 
Israel; "and he cometh among them with a strong and outstretched arm to 
correct and to punish. His countenance is kindled in anger against those 
who have departed from the vow which they have made, and great is the fear 
of those sons of Belial. Thou must have heard of his name?"
"It is well known unto me," said Isaac; "the Gentiles deliver this Lucas 
Beaumanoir as a man zealous to slaying for every point of the Nazarene law; 
and our brethren have termed him a fierce destroyer of the Saracens, and a 
cruel tyrant to the Children of the Promise."
"And truly have they termed him," said Nathan the physician. "Other 
Templars may be moved from the purpose of their heart by pleasure, or 
bribed by promise of gold and silver; but Beaumanoir is of a different 
stamp - hating sensuality, despising treasure, and pressing forward to that 
which they call the crown of martyrdom - The God of Jacob speedily send it 
unto him, and unto them all! Specially hath this proud man extended his 
glove over the children of Judah, as holy David over Edom, holding the 
murder of a Jew to be all offering of as sweet savour as the death of a 
Saracen. Impious and false things has he said even of the virtues of our 
medicines, as if they were the devices of Satan - The Lord rebuke him!"
"Nevertheless," said Isaac, "I must present myself at Templestowe, though 
he hath made his face like unto a fiery furnace seven times heated."
He then explained to Nathan the pressing cause of his journey. The Rabbi 
listened with interest, and testified his sympathy after the fashion of his 
people, rending his clothes, and saying, "Ah, my daughter! - ah, my 
daughter! - Alas! for the beauty of Zion! - Alas! for the captivity of 
Israel!"
"Thou seest," said Isaac, "how it stands with me, and that I may not tarry. 
Peradventure, the presence of this Lucas Beaumanoir, being the chief man 
over them, may turn Brian de Bois-Guilbert from the ill which he doth 
meditate, and that he may deliver to me my beloved daughter Rebecca."
"Go thou," said Nathan Ben Israel, "and be wise, for wisdom availed Daniel 
in the den of lions into which he was cast; and may it go well with thee, 
even as thine heart wisheth. Yet, if thou canst, keep thee from the 
presence of the Grand Master, for to do foul scorn to our people is his 
morning and evening delight. It may be if thou couldst speak with Bois-
Guilbert in private, thou shalt the better prevail with him; for men say 
that these accursed Nazarenes are not of one mind in the Preceptory - May 
their counsels be confounded and brought to shame! But do thou, brother, 
return to me as if it were to the house of thy father, and bring me word 
how it has sped with thee; and well do I hope thou wilt bring with thee 
Rebecca, even the scholar of the wise Miriam, whose cures the Gentiles 
slandered as if they had been wrought by necromancy."
Isaac accordingly bade his friend farewell, and about an hour's riding 
brought him before the Preceptory of Templestowe.
This establishment of the Templars was seated amidst fair meadows and 
pastures, which the devotion of the former Preceptor had bestowed upon 
their Order. It was strong and well fortified, a point never neglected by 
these knights, and which the disordered state of England rendered 
peculiarly necessary. Two halberdiers, clad in black, guarded the 
drawbridge, and others, in the same sad livery, glided to and fro upon the 
walls with a funereal pace, resembling spectres more than soldiers. The 
inferior officers of the Order were thus dressed, ever since their use of 
white garments, similar to those of the knights and esquires, had given 
rise to a combination of certain false brethren in the mountains of 
Palestine, terming themselves Templars, and bringing great dishonour on the 
Order. A knight was now and then seen to cross the court in his long white 
cloak, his head depressed on his breast, and his arms folded. They passed 
each other, if they chanced to meet, with a slow, solemn, and mute 
greeting; for such was the rule of their Order, quoting thereupon the holy 
texts, "In many words thou shalt not avoid sin," and "Life and death are in 
the power of the tongue." In a word, the stern ascetic rigour of the Temple 
discipline, which had been so long exchanged for prodigal and licentious 
indulgence, seemed at once to have revived at Templestowe under the severe 
eye of Lucas Beaumanoir.
Isaac paused at the gate, to consider how he might seek entrance in the 
manner most likely to bespeak favour; for he was well aware, that to his 
unhappy race the reviving fanaticism of the Order was not less dangerous 
than their unprincipled licentiousness; and that his religion would be the 
object of hate and persecution in the one case, as his wealth would have 
exposed him in the other to the extortions of unrelenting oppression.
Meantime Lucas Beaumanoir walked in a small garden belonging to the 
Preceptory, included within the precincts of its exterior fortification, 
and held sad and confidential communication with a brother of his Order, 
who had come in his company from Palestine.
The Grand Master was a man advanced in age, as was testified by his long 
grey beard, and the shaggy grey eyebrows overhanging eyes, of which, 
however, years had been unable to quench the fire. A formidable warrior, 
his thin and severe features retained the soldier's fierceness of 
expression; an ascetic bigot, they were no less marked by the emaciation of 
abstinence, and the spiritual pride of the self-satisfied devotee. Yet with 
these severer traits of physiognomy, there was mixed somewhat striking and 
noble, arising, doubtless, from the great part which his high office called 
upon him to act among monarchs and princes, and from the habitual exercise 
of supreme authority over the valiant and high-born knights, who were 
united by the rules of the Order. His stature was tall, and his gait, 
undepressed by age and toil, was erect and stately. His white mantle was 
shaped with severe regularity, according to the rule of Saint Bernard 
himself, being composed of what was then called Burrel cloth, exactly 
fitted to the size of the wearer, and bearing on the left shoulder the 
octangular cross peculiar to the Order, formed of red cloth. No vair or 
ermine decked this garment; but in respect of his age, the Grand Master, as 
permitted by the rules, wore his doublet lined and trimmed with the softest 
lambskin, dressed with the wool outwards, which was the nearest approach he 
could regularly make to the use of fur, then the greatest luxury of dress. 
In his hand he bore that singular abacus, or staff of office, with which 
Templars are usually represented, having at the upper end a round plate, on 
which was engraved the cross of the Order, inscribed within a circle or 
orle, as heralds term it. His companion, who attended on this great 
personage, had nearly the same dress in all respects, but his extreme 
deference towards his Superior showed that no other equality subsisted 
between them. The Preceptor, for such he was in rank, walked not in a line 
with the Grand Master, but just so far behind that Beaumanoir could speak 
to him without turning round his head.
"Comrade," said the Grand Master, "dear companion of my battles and my 
toils, to thy faithful bosom alone I can confide my sorrows. To thee alone 
can I tell how oft, since I came to this kingdom, I have desired to be 
dissolved and to be with the just. Not one object in England hath met mine 
eye which it could rest upon with pleasure, save the tombs of our brethren, 
beneath the massive roof of our Temple Church in yonder proud capital. O, 
valiant Robert de Ros! did I exclaim internally, as I gazed upon these good 
soldiers of the cross, where they lie sculptured on their sepulchres, - O, 
worthy William de Mareschal! open your marble cells, and take to your 
repose a weary brother, who would rather strive with a hundred thousand 
pagans than witness the decay of our Holy Order!"
"It is but true," answered Comrade Mont-Fitchet; "it is but too true; and 
the irregularities of our brethren in England are even more gross than 
those in France."
"Because they are more wealthy," answered the Grand Master. "Bear with me, 
brother, although I should something vaunt myself. Thou knowest the life I 
have led, keeping each point of my Order, striving with devils embodied and 
disembodied, striking down the roaring lion, who goeth about seeking whom 
be may devour, like a good knight and devout priest, wheresoever I met with 
him - even as blessed Saint Bernard hath prescribed to us in the forty-
fifth capital of our rule, Ut Leo semper feriatur. But by the Holy Temple! 
the zeal which hath devoured my substance and my life, yea, the very nerves 
and marrow of my bones; by that very Holy Temple I swear to thee, that save 
thyself and some few that still retain the ancient severity of our Order, I 
look upon no brethren whom I can bring my soul to embrace under that holy 
name. What say our statutes, and how do our brethren observe them? They 
should wear no vain or worldly ornament, no crest upon their helmet, no 
gold upon stirrup or bridle-bit; yet who now go pranked out so proudly and 
so gaily as the poor soldiers of the Temple? They are forbidden by our 
statutes to take one bird by means of another, to shoot beasts with bow or 
arblast, to halloo to a hunting-horn, or to spur the horse after game. But 
now, at hunting and hawking, and each idle sport of wood and river, who so 
prompt as the Templars in all these fond vanities? They are forbidden to 
read, save what their Superior permitted, or listen to what is read, save 
such holy things as may be recited aloud during the hours of refaction; but 
lo! their ears are at the command of idle minstrels, and their eyes study 
empty romaunts. They were commanded to extirpate magic and heresy. Lo! they 
are charged with studying the accursed cabalistical secrets of the Jews, 
and the magic of the Paynim Saracens. Simpleness of diet was prescribed to 
them, roots, pottage, gruels, eating flesh but thrice a-week, because the 
accustomed feeding on flesh is a dishonourable corruption of the body; and 
behold, their tables groan under delicate fare! Their drink was to be 
water, and now, to drink like a Templar, is the boast of each jolly boon 
companion! This very garden, filled as it is with curious herbs and trees 
sent from the Eastern climes, better becomes the harem of an unbelieving 
Emir, than the plot which Christian Monks should devote to raise their 
homely pot-herbs. - And O, Conrade! well it were that the relaxation of 
discipline stopped even here! - Well thou knowest that we were forbidden to 
receive those devout women, who at the beginning were associated as sisters 
of our Order, because, saith the forty-sixth chapter, the Ancient Enemy 
hath, by female society, withdrawn many from the right path to paradise. 
Nay, in the last capital, being, as it were, the cope-stone which our 
blessed founder placed on the pure and underled doctrine which he had 
enjoined, we are prohibited from offering, even to our sisters and our 
mothers, the kiss of affection - ut omnium mulierum fugiantur oscula. - I 
shame to speak - I shame to think - of the corruptions which have rushed in 
upon us even like a flood. The souls of our pure founders, the spirits of 
Hugh de Payen and Godfrey de Saint Omer, and of the blessed Seven who first 
joined in dedicating their lives to the service of the Temple, are 
disturbed even in the enjoyment of paradise itself. I have seen them, 
Conrade, in the visions of the night - their sainted eyes shed tears for 
the sins and follies of their brethren, and for the foul and shameful 
luxury in which they wallow. Beaumanoir, they say, thou slumberest - awake! 
There is a stain in the fabric of the Temple, deep and foul as that left by 
the streaks of leprosy on the walls of the infected houses of old. The 
soldiers of the Cross, who should shun the glance of a woman as the eye of 
a basilisk, live in open sin, not with the females of their own race only, 
but with the daughters of the accursed heathen, and more accursed Jew. 
Beaumanoir, thou sleepest; up, and avenge our cause! - Slay the sinners, 
male and female! - Take to thee the brand of Phineas! - The vision fled, 
Conrade, but as I awaked I could still hear the clank of their mail, and 
see the waving of their white mantles. - And I will do according to their 
word, I will purify the fabric of the Temple! and the unclean stones in 
which the plague is, I will remove and cast out of the building."
"Yet bethink thee, reverend father," said Mont-Fitchet, "the stain hath 
become engrained by time and consuetude; let thy reformation be cautious, 
as it is just and wise."
"No, Mont-Fitchet," answered the stern old man - "it must be sharp and 
sudden - the Order is on the crisis of its fate. The sobriety, self-
devotion, and piety of our predecessors, made us powerful friends - our 
presumption, our wealth, our luxury, have raised up against us mighty 
enemies. - We must cast away these riches, which are a temptation to 
princes - we must lay down that presumption, which is an offence to them - 
we must reform that license of manners, which is a scandal to the whole 
Christian world! Or - mark my words - the Order of the Temple will be 
utterly demolished - and the Place thereof shall no more be known among the 
nations."
"Now may God avert such a calamity!" said the Preceptor.
"Amen," said the Grand Master, with solemnity, "but we must deserve his 
aid. I tell thee, Conrade, that neither the powers in Heaven, nor the 
powers on earth, will longer endure the wickedness of this generation - My 
intelligence is sure - the ground on which our fabric is reared is already 
undermined, and each addition we make to the structure of our greatness 
will only sink it the sooner in the abyss. We must retrace our steps, and 
show ourselves the faithful Champions of the Cross, sacrificing to our 
calling, not alone our blood and our lives - not alone our lusts and our 
vices - but our ease, our comforts, and our natural affections, and act as 
men convinced that many a pleasure which may be lawful to others, is 
forbidden to the vowed soldier of the Temple."
At this moment a squire, clothed in a threadbare vestment, (for the 
aspirants after this holy Order wore during their noviciate the cast-off 
garments of the knights,) entered the garden, and, bowing profoundly before 
the Grand Master, stood silent, awaiting his permission ere he presumed to 
tell his errand.
"Is it not more seemly," said the Grand Master, "to see this Damian, 
clothed in the garments of Christian humility, thus appear with reverend 
silence before his Superior, than but two days since, when the fond fool 
was decked in a painted coat, and jangling as pert and as proud as any 
popinjay? - Speak, Damian, we permit thee - What is thine errand?"
"A Jew stands without the gate, noble and reverend father," said the 
Squire, "who prays to speak with brother Brian de Bois-Guilbert."
"Thou wert right to give me knowledge of it," said the Grand Master; "in 
our presence a Preceptor is but as a common compeer of our Order, who may 
not walk according to his own will, but to that of his Master - even 
according to the text, 'In the hearing of the ear he hath obeyed me.' - It 
imports us especially to know of this Bois-Guilbert's proceedings," said 
he, turning to his companion.
"Report speaks him brave and valiant," said Conrade.
"And truly is he so spoken of," said the Grand Master; "in our valour only 
we are not degenerated from our predecessors, the heroes of the Cross. But 
brother Brian came into our Order a moody and disappointed man, stirred, I 
doubt me, to take our vows and to renounce the world, not in sincerity of 
soul, but as one whom some touch of light discontent had driven into 
penitence. Since then, he hath become an active and earnest agitator, a 
murmurer, and a machinator, and a leader amongst those who impugn our 
authority; not considering that the rule is given to the Master even by the 
symbol of the staff and the rod - the staff to support the infirmities of 
the weak - the rod to correct the faults of delinquents. - Damian," he 
continued, "lead the Jew to our presence."
The squire departed with a profound reverence, and in a few minutes 
returned, marshalling in Isaac of York. No naked slave, ushered into the 
presence of some mighty prince, could approach his judgement-seat with more 
profound reverence and terror than that with which the Jew drew near to the 
presence of the Grand Master. When he had approached within the distance of 
three yards, Beaumanoir made a sign with his staff that he should come no 
farther. The Jew kneeled down on the earth which he kissed in token of 
reverence; then rising, stood before the Templars, his hands folded on his 
bosom, his head bowed on his breast, in all the submission of Oriental 
slavery.
"Damian," said the Grand Master, "retire, and have a guard ready to await 
our sudden call; and suffer no one to enter the garden until we shall leave 
it." - The squire bowed and retreated. - "Jew," continued the haughty old 
man, "mark me. It suits not our condition to hold with thee long 
communication, nor do we waste words or time upon any one. Wherefore be 
brief in thy answers to what questions I shall ask thee, and let thy words 
be of truth; for if thy tongue doubles with me, I will have it torn from 
thy misbelieving jaws."
The Jew was about to reply, but the Grand Master went on.
"Peace, unbeliever! - not a word in our presence, save in answer to our 
questions. - What is thy business with our brother Brian de Bois-Guilbert?"
Isaac gasped with terror and uncertainty. To tell his tale might be 
interpreted into scandalising the Order; yet, unless he told it, what hope 
could he have of achieving his daughter's deliverance? Beaumanoir saw his 
mortal apprehension, and condescended to give him some assurance.
"Fear nothing," he said, "for thy wretched person, Jew, so thou dealest 
uprightly in this matter. I demand again to know from thee thy business 
with Brian de Bois-Guilbert?"
"I am bearer of a letter," stammered out the Jew, "so please your reverend 
valour, to that good knight, from Prior Aymer of the Abbey of Jorvaulx."
"Said I not these were evil times, Conrade?" said the Master. "A Cistertian 
Prior sends a letter to a soldier of the Temple, and can find no more 
fitting messenger than an unbelieving Jew. - Give me the letter."
The Jew, with trembling hands, undid the folds of his Armenian cap, in 
which he had deposited the Prior's tablets for the greater security, and 
was about to approach, with hand extended and body crouched, to place it 
within the reach of his grim interrogator.
"Back, dog!" said the Grand Master; "I touch not misbelievers, save with 
the sword. - Conrade, take thou the letter from the Jew, and give it to 
me."
Beaumanoir, being thus possessed of the tablets, inspected the outside 
carefully, and then proceeded to undo the packthread which secured its 
folds. "Reverend father," said Conrade, interposing, though with much 
deference, "wilt thou break the seal?"
"And will I not?" said Beaumanoir, with a frown. "Is it not written in the 
forty-second capital, De Lectione Literarum, that a Templar shall not 
receive a letter, no not from his father, without communicating the same to 
the Grand Master, and reading it in his presence?"
He then perused the letter in haste, with an expression of surprise and 
horror; read it over again more slowly; then holding it out to Conrade with 
one hand, and slightly striking it with the other, exclaimed - "Here is 
goodly stuff for one Christian man to write to another, and both members, 
and no inconsiderable members, of religious professions! When," said he 
solemnly, and looking upward, "wilt thou come with thy fanners to purge the 
thrashing-floor?"
Mont-Fitchet took the letter from his Superior, and was about to peruse it. 
"Read it aloud, Conrade," said the Grand Master, - "and do thou" (to Isaac) 
"attend to the purport of it, for we will question thee concerning it."
Conrade read the letter, which was in these words: "Aymer, by divine grace, 
Prior of the Cistertian house of Saint Mary's of Jorvaulx, to Sir Brian de 
Bois-Guilbert, a Knight of the holy Order of the Temple, wisheth health, 
with the bounties of King Bacchus and of my Lady Venus. Touching our 
present condition, dear Brother, we are a captive in the hands of certain 
lawless and godless men, who have not feared to detain our person, and put 
us to ransom; whereby we have also learned of Front-de-Boeuf's misfortune, 
and that thou hast escaped with that fair Jewish sorceress, whose black 
eyes have bewitched thee. We are heartily rejoiced of thy safety; 
nevertheless, we pray thee to be on thy guard in the matter of this second 
Witch of Endor; for we are privately assured that your Great Master, who 
careth not a bean for cherry cheeks and black eyes, comes from Normandy to 
diminish your mirth, and amend your misdoings. Wherefore we pray you 
heartily to beware, and to be found watching, even as the Holy Text hath 
it, Invenientur vigilantes. And the wealthy Jew her father, Isaac of York, 
having prayed of me letters in his behalf, I gave him these, earnestly 
advising, and in a sort entreating, that you do hold the damsel to ransom, 
seeing he will pay you from his bags as much as may find fifty damsels upon 
safer terms, whereof I trust to have my part when we make merry together, 
as true brothers, not forgetting the wine-cup. For what saith the text, 
Vinum laetificat cor hominis; and again, Rex delectabitur pulchritudine 
tua.
"Till which merry meeting, we wish you farewell. Given from this den of 
thieves, about the hour of matins,
"Aymer Pr. S. M. Jorvolciencis.
"Postscriptum. Truly your golden chain hath not long abidden with me, and 
will now sustain, around the neck of an outlaw deer-stealer, the whistle 
wherewith he calleth on his hounds."
"What sayst thou to this, Conrade?" said the Grand Master - "Den of 
thieves! and a fit residence is a den of thieves for such a Prior. No 
wonder that the hand of God is upon us, and that in the Holy Land we lose 
place by place, foot by foot, before the infidels, when we have such 
churchmen as this Aymer. - And what meaneth he, I trow, by this second 
Witch of Endor?" said he to his confident, something apart.
Conrade was better acquainted (perhaps by practice) with the jargon of 
gallantry, than was his Superior; and he expounded the passage which 
embarrassed the Grand Master, to be a sort of language used by worldly men 
towards those whom they loved par amours; but the explanation did not 
satisfy the bigoted Beaumanoir.
"There is more in it than thou dost guess, Conrade; thy simplicity is no 
match for this deep abyss of wickedness. This Rebecca of York was a pupil 
of that Miriam of whom thou hast heard. Thou shalt hear the Jew own it even 
now." Then turning to Isaac, he said aloud, "Thy daughter, then, is 
prisoner with Brian de Bois-Guilbert?"
"Ay, reverend valorous sir," stammered poor Isaac, "and whatsoever ransom a 
poor man may pay for her deliverance - "
"Peace!" said the Grand Master. "This thy daughter hath practised the art 
of healing, hath she not?"
"Ay, gracious sir," answered the Jew, with more confidence; "and knight and 
yeoman, squire and vassal, may bless the goodly gift which Heaven hath 
assigned to her. Many a one can testify that she hath recovered them by her 
art, when every other human aid hath proved vain; but the blessing of the 
God of Jacob was upon her."
Beaumanoir turned to Mont-Fitchet with a grim smile. "See, brother," he 
said, "the deceptions of the devouring Enemy! Behold the baits with which 
he fishes for souls, giving a poor space of earthly life in exchange for 
eternal happiness hereafter. Well said our blessed rule, Semper percutiatur 
leo vorans. - Up on the lion! Down with the destroyer!" said he, shaking 
aloft his mystic abacus, as if in defiance of the powers of darkness - "Thy 
daughter worketh the cures, I doubt not," thus he went on to address the 
Jew, "by words and sighs, and periapts, and other cabalistical mysteries."
"Nay, reverend and brave Knight," answered Isaac, "but in chief measure by 
a balsam of marvellous virtue."
"Where had she that secret?" said Beaumanoir.
"It was delivered to her," answered Isaac, reluctantly, "by Miriam, a sage 
matron of our tribe."
"Ah, false Jew!" said the Grand Master; "was it not from that same witch 
Miriam, the abomination of whose enchantments have been heard of throughout 
every Christian land?" exclaimed the Grand Master, crossing himself. "Her 
body was burnt at a stake, and her ashes were scattered to the four winds; 
and so be it with me and mine Order, if I do not as much to her pupil, and 
more also! I will teach her to throw spell and incantation over the 
soldiers of the blessed Temple. - There, Damian, spurn this Jew from the 
gate - shoot him dead if he oppose or turn again. With his daughter we will 
deal as the Christian law and our own high office warrant."
Poor Isaac was hurried off accordingly, and expelled from the preceptory; 
all his entreaties, and even his offers, unheard and disregarded. He could 
do not better than return to the house of the Rabbi, and endeavour, through 
his means, to learn how his daughter was to be disposed of. He had hitherto 
feared for her honour, he was now to tremble for her life. Meanwhile, the 
Grand Master ordered to his presence the Preceptor of Templestowe.


Chapter 36

		Say not my art is fraud - all live by seeming.
		The beggar begs with it, and the gay courtier
		Gains land and title, rank and rule, by seeming;
		The clergy scorn it not, and the bold soldier
		Will eke with it his service. - All admit it,
		All practise it; and he who is content
		With showing what he is, shall have small credit
		In church, or camp, or state - So wags the world.
									-- Old Play.


Albert Malvoisin, President, or, in the language of the Order, Preceptor of 
the establishment of Templestowe, was brother to that Philip Malvoisin who 
has been already occasionally mentioned in this history, and was, like that 
baron, in close league with Brian de Bois-Guilbert.
Amongst dissolute and unprincipled men, of whom the Temple Order included 
but too many, Albert of Templestowe might be distinguished; but with this 
difference from the audacious Bois-Guilbert, that he knew how to throw over 
his vices and his ambition the veil of hypocrisy, and to assume in his 
exterior the fanaticism which be internally despised. Had not the arrival 
of the Grand Master been so unexpectedly sudden, he would have seen nothing 
at Templestowe which might have appeared to argue any relaxation of 
discipline. And, even although surprised, and, to a certain extent, 
detected, Albert Malvoisin listened with such respect and apparent 
contrition to the rebuke of his Superior, and made such haste to reform the 
particulars he censured, - succeeded, in fine, so well in giving an air of 
ascetic devotion to a family which had been lately devoted to license and 
pleasure, that Lucas Beaumanoir began to entertain a higher opinion of the 
Preceptor's morals, than the first appearance of the establishment had 
inclined him to adopt.
But these favourable sentiments on the part of the Grand Master were 
greatly shaken by the intelligence that Albert had received within a house 
of religion the Jewish captive, and, as was to be feared, the paramour of a 
brother of the Order; and when Albert appeared before him, be was regarded 
with unwonted sternness.
"There is in this mansion, dedicated to the purposes of the holy Order of 
the Temple," said the Grand Master, in a severe tone, "a Jewish woman, 
brought hither by a brother of religion, by your connivance, Sir 
Preceptor."
Albert Malvoisin was overwhelmed with confusion; for the unfortunate 
Rebecca had been confined in a remote and secret part of the building, and 
every precaution used to prevent her residence there from being known. He 
read in the looks of Beaumanoir ruin to Bois-Guilbert and to himself, 
unless he should be able to avert the impending storm.
"Why are you mute?" continued the Grand Master.
"Is it permitted to me to reply?" answered the Preceptor, in a tone of the 
deepest humility, although by the question he only meant to gain an 
instant's space for arranging his ideas.
"Speak, you are permitted," said the Grand Master - "speak, and say, 
knowest thou the capital of our holy rule, - De commilitonibus Templi in 
sancta civitate, qui cum miseries mulieribus versantur, propter 
oblectationem carnis?"
"Surely, most reverend father," answered the Preceptor, "I have not risen 
to this office in the Order, being ignorant of one of its most important 
prohibitions."
"How comes it, then, I demand of thee once more, that thou hast suffered a 
brother to bring a paramour, and that paramour a Jewish sorceress, into 
this holy place, to the stain and pollution thereof?"
"A Jewish sorceress!" echoed Albert Malvoisin; "good angels guard us!"
"Ay, brother, a Jewish sorceress!" said the Grand Master, sternly. "I have 
said it. Darest thou deny that this Rebecca, the daughter of that wretched 
usurer Isaac of York, and the pupil of the foul witch Miriam, is now - 
shame to be thought or spoken! - lodged within this thy Preceptory?"
"Your wisdom, reverend father," answered the Preceptor, "hath rolled away 
the darkness from my understanding. Much did I wonder that so good a knight 
as Brian de Bois-Guilbert seemed so fondly besotted on the charms of this 
female, whom I received into this house merely to place a bar betwixt their 
growing intimacy, which else might have been cemented at the expense of the 
fall of our valiant and religious brother."
"Hath nothing, then, as yet passed betwixt them in breach of his vow?" 
demanded the Grand Master.
"What! under this roof?" said the Preceptor, crossing himself; "Saint 
Magdalene and the ten thousand virgins forbid! - No! if I have sinned in 
receiving her here, it was in the erring thought that I might thus break 
off our brother's besotted devotion to this Jewess, which seemed to me so 
wild and unnatural, that I could not but ascribe it to some touch of 
insanity, more to be cured by pity than reproof. But since your reverend 
wisdom hath discovered this Jewish quean to be a sorceress, perchance it 
may account fully for his enamoured folly."
"It doth! - it doth!" said Beaumanoir. "See, brother Conrade, the peril of 
yielding to the first devices and blandishments of Satan! We look upon 
woman only to gratify the lust of the eye, and to take pleasure in what men 
call her beauty; and the Ancient Enemy, the devouring Lion, obtains power 
over us, to complete, by talisman and spell, a work which was begun by 
idleness and folly. It may be that our brother Bois-Guilbert does in this 
matter deserve rather pity than severe chastisement; rather the support of 
the staff, than the strokes of the rod; and that our admonitions and 
prayers may turn him from his folly, and restore him to his brethren."
"It were deep pity," said Conrade Mont-Fitchet, to lose to the Order one of 
its best lances, when the Holy Community most requires the aid of its sons. 
Three hundred Saracens hath this Brian de Bois-Guilbert slain with his own 
hand."
"The blood of these accursed dogs," said the Grand Master, "shall be a 
sweet and acceptable offering to the saints and angels whom they despise 
and blaspheme; and with their aid will we counteract the spells and charms 
with which our brother is entwined as in a net. He shall burst the bands of 
this Delilah, as Sampson burst the two new cords with which the Philistines 
had bound him, and shall slaughter the infidels, even heaps upon heaps. But 
concerning this foul witch, who hath flung her enchantments over a brother 
of the Holy Temple, assuredly she shall die the death."
"But the laws of England," - said the Preceptor, who, though delighted that 
the Grand Master's resentment, thus fortunately averted from himself and 
Bois-Guilbert, had taken another direction, began now to fear he was 
carrying it too far.
"The laws of England," interrupted Beaumanoir, "permit and enjoin each 
judge to execute justice within his own jurisdiction. The most petty baron 
may arrest, try, and condemn a witch found within his own domain. And shall 
that power be denied to the Grand Master of the Temple within a preceptory 
of his Order? - No! - we will judge and condemn. The witch shall be taken 
out of the land, and the wickedness thereof shall be forgiven. Prepare the 
Castle-hall for the trial of the sorceress."
Albert Malvoisin bowed and retired, - not to give directions for preparing 
the hall, but to seek out Brian de Bois-Guilbert, and communicate to him 
how matters were likely to terminate. It was not long ere he found him, 
foaming with indignation at a repulse he had anew sustained from the fair 
Jewess. "The unthinking," he said, "the ungrateful, to scorn him who, 
amidst blood and flames, would have saved her life at the risk of his own! 
By Heaven, Malvoisin! I abode until roof and rafters crackled and crashed 
around me. I was the butt of a hundred arrows; they rattled on mine armour 
like hailstones against a latticed casement, and the only use I made of my 
shield was for her protection. This did I endure for her; and now the self-
willed girl upbraids me that I did not leave her to perish, and refuses me 
not only the slightest proof of gratitude, but even the most distant hope 
that ever she will be brought to grant any. The devil, that possessed her 
race with obstinacy, has concentrated its full force in her single person!"
"The devil," said the Preceptor, "I think, possessed you both. How oft have 
I preached to you caution, if not continence? Did I not tell you that there 
were enough willing Christian damsels to be met with, who would think it 
sin to refuse so brave a knight le don d'amoureux merci, and you must needs 
anchor your affection on a wilful, obstinate Jewess! By the mass, I think 
old Lucas Beaumanoir guesses right, when he maintains she hath cast a spell 
over you."
"Lucas Beaumanoir!" - said Bois-Guilbert reproachfully - "Are these your 
precautions, Malvoisin? Hast thou suffered the dotard to learn that Rebecca 
is in the Preceptory?"
"How could I help it?" said the Preceptor. "I neglected nothing that could 
keep secret your mystery; but it is betrayed, and whether by the devil or 
no, the devil only can tell. But I have turned the matter as I could; you 
are safe if you renounce Rebecca. You are pitied - the victim of magical 
delusion. She is a sorceress, and must suffer as such."
"She shall not, by Heaven!" said Bois-Guilbert.
"By Heaven, she must and will!" said Malvoisin. "Neither you nor any one 
else can save her. Lucas Beaumanoir hath settled that the death of a Jewess 
will be a sin-offering sufficient to atone for all the amorous indulgences 
of the Knights Templars; and thou knowest he hath both the power and will 
to execute so reasonable and pious a purpose."
"Will future ages believe that such stupid bigotry ever existed!" said Bois-
Guilbert, striding up and down the apartment.
"What they may believe, I know not," said Malvoisin, calmly; "but I know 
well, that in this our day, clergy and laymen, take ninety-nine to the 
hundred, will cry amen to the Grand Master's sentence."
"I have it," said Bois-Guilbert. "Albert, thou art my friend. Thou must 
connive at her escape, Malvoisin, and I will transport her to some place of 
greater security and secrecy."
"I cannot, if I would," replied the Preceptor; "the mansion is filled with 
the attendants of the Grand Master, and others who are devoted to him. And, 
to be frank with you, brother, I would not embark with you in this matter, 
even if I could hope to bring my bark to haven. I have risked enough 
already for your sake. I have no mind to encounter a sentence of 
degradation, or even to lose my Preceptory, for the sake of a painted piece 
of Jewish flesh and blood. And you, if you will be guided by my counsel, 
will give up this wild-goose chase, and fly your hawk at some other game. 
Think, Bois-Guilbert, - thy present rank, thy future honours, all depend on 
thy place in the Order. Shouldst thou adhere perversely to thy passion for 
this Rebecca, thou wilt give Beaumanoir the power of expelling thee, and he 
will not neglect it. He is jealous of the truncheon which he holds in his 
trembling gripe, and he knows thou stretchest thy bold hand towards it. 
Doubt not he will ruin thee, if thou affordest him a pretext so fair as thy 
protection of a Jewish sorceress. Give him his scope in this matter, for 
thou canst not control him. When the staff is in thine own firm grasp, thou 
mayst caress the daughters of Judah, or burn them, as may best suit thine 
own humour."
"Malvoisin," said Bois-Guilbert, "thou art a cold-blooded - "
"Friend," said the Preceptor, hastening to fill up the blank, in which Bois-
Guilbert would probably have placed a worse word, - "a cold-blooded friend 
I am, and therefore more fit to give thee advice. I tell thee once more, 
that thou canst not save Rebecca. I tell thee once more, thou canst but 
perish with her. Go hie thee to the Grand Master - throw thyself It his 
feet and tell him - "
"Not at his feet, by Heaven! but to the dotard's very beard will I say - "
"Say to him, then, to his beard," continued Malvoisin, coolly, "that you 
love this captive Jewess to distraction; and the more thou dost enlarge on 
thy passion, the greater will be his haste to end it by the death of the 
fair enchantress; while thou, taken in flagrant delict by the avowal of a 
crime contrary to thine oath, canst hope no aid of thy brethren, and must 
exchange all thy brilliant visions of ambition and power, to lift perhaps a 
mercenary spear in some of the petty quarrels between Flanders and 
Burgundy."
"Thou speakest the truth, Malvoisin," said Brian de Bois-Guilbert, after a 
moment's reflection. "I will give the hoary bigot no advantage over me; and 
for Rebecca, she hath not merited at my hand that I should expose rank and 
honour for her sake. I will cast her off - yes, I will leave her to her 
fate, unless - "
"Qualify not thy wise and necessary resolution," said Malvoisin; "women are 
but the toys which amuse our lighter hours - ambition is the serious 
business of life. Perish a thousand such frail baubles as this Jewess, 
before thy manly step pause in the brilliant career that lies stretched 
before thee! For the present we part, nor must we be seen to hold close 
conversation - I must order the hall for his judgement-seat."
"What!" said Bois-Guilbert, "so soon?"
"Ay," replied the Preceptor, "trial moves rapidly on when the judge has 
determined the sentence beforehand."
"Rebecca," said Bois-Guilbert, when he was left alone, "thou art like to 
cost me dear - Why cannot I abandon thee to thy fate, as this calm 
hypocrite recommends? - One effort will I make to save thee - but beware of 
ingratitude! for if I am again repulsed, my vengeance shall equal my love. 
The life and honour of Bois-Guilbert must not be hazarded, where contempt 
and reproaches are his only reward."
The Preceptor had hardly given the necessary orders, when he was joined by 
Conrade Mont-Fitchet, who acquainted him with the Grand Master's resolution 
to bring the Jewess to instant trial for sorcery.
"It is surely a dream," said the Preceptor; "we have many Jewish 
physicians, and we call them not wizards though they work wonderful cures."
"The Grand Master thinks otherwise," said Mont-Fitchet; "and, Albert, I 
will be upright with thee - wizard or not, it were better that this 
miserable damsel die, than that Brian de Bois-Guilbert should be lost to 
the Order, or the Order divided by internal dissension. Thou knowest his 
high rank, his fame in arms - thou knowest the zeal with which many of our 
brethren regard him - but all this will not avail him with our Grand 
Master, should he consider Brian as the accomplice, not the victim, of this 
Jewess. Were the souls of the twelve tribes in her single body, it were 
better she suffered alone, than that Bois-Guilbert were partner in her 
destruction."
"I have been working him even now to abandon her," said Malvoisin; "but 
still, are there grounds enough to condemn this Rebecca for sorcery? - Will 
not the Grand Master change his mind when he sees that the proofs are so 
weak?"
"They must be strengthened, Albert," replied Mont-Fitchet, "they must be 
strengthened. Dost thou understand me?"
"I do," said the Preceptor, "nor do I scruple to do aught for advancement 
of the Order - but there is little time to find engines fitting."
"Malvoisin, they must be found," said Conrade; "well will it advantage both 
the Order and thee. This Templestowe is a poor Preceptory - that of Maison-
Dieu is worth double its value - thou knowest my interest with our old 
Chief - find those who can carry this matter through, and thou art 
Preceptor of Maison-Dieu in the fertile Kent - How sayst thou?"
"There is," replied Malvoisin, "among those who came hither with Bois-
Guilbert, two fellows whom I well know; servants they were to my brother 
Philip de Malvoisin, and passed from his service to that of Front-de-Boeuf 
- It may be they know something of the witcheries of this woman."
"Away, seek them out instantly - and hark thee, if a Byzant or two will 
sharpen their memory, let them not be wanting."
"They would swear the mother that bore them a sorceress for a zecchin," 
said the Preceptor.
"Away, then," said Mont-Fitchet; "at noon the affair will proceed. I have 
not seen our senior in such earnest preparation since he condemned to the 
stake Hamet Alfagi, a convert who relapsed to the Moslem faith."
The ponderous castle-bell had tolled the point of noon, when Rebecca heard 
a trampling of feet upon the private stair which led to her place of 
confinement. The noise announced the arrival of several persons, and the 
circumstance rather gave her joy; for she was more afraid of the solitary 
visits of the fierce and passionate Bois-Guilbert than of any evil that 
could befall her besides. The door of the chamber was unlocked, and Conrade 
and the Preceptor Malvoisin entered, attended by four warders clothed in 
black, and bearing halberds.
"Daughter of an accursed race!" said the Preceptor, "arise and follow us."
"Whither," said Rebecca, "and for what purpose?"
"Damsel," answered Conrade, "it is not for thee to question, but to obey. 
Nevertheless, be it known to thee, that thou art to be brought before the 
tribunal of the Grand Master of our holy Order, there to answer for thine 
offences."
"May the God of Abraham be praised!" said Rebecca, folding her hands 
devoutly; "the name of a judge, though an enemy to my people, is to me as 
the name of a protector. Most willingly do I follow thee - permit me only 
to wrap my veil around my head."
They descended the stair with slow and solemn step, traversed a long 
gallery, and, by a pair of folding doors placed at the end, entered the 
great hall in which the Grand Master had for the time established his court 
of justice.
The lower part of this ample apartment was filled with squires and yeomen, 
who made way not without some difficulty for Rebecca, attended by the 
Preceptor and Mont-Fitchet, and followed by the guard of halberdiers, to 
move forward to the seat appointed for her. As she passed through the 
crowd, her arms folded and her head depressed, a scrap of paper was thrust 
into her hand, which she received almost unconsciously, and continued to 
hold without examining its contents. The assurance that she possessed some 
friend in this awful assembly gave her courage to look around, and to mark 
into whose presence she had been conducted. She gazed, accordingly, upon 
the scene, which we shall endeavour to describe in the next chapter.


Chapter 37

			Stern was the law which bade its vot'ries leave
			At human woes with human hearts to grieve;
			Stern was the law, which at the winning wile
			Of frank and harmless mirth forbade to smile;
			But sterner still, when high the iron-rod
			Of tyrant power she shook, and call'd that power of God.
								-- The Middle Ages.


The Tribunal, erected for the trial of the innocent and unhappy Rebecca, 
occupied the dais or elevated part of the upper end of the great hall - a 
platform, which we have already described as the place of honour, destined 
to be occupied by the most distinguished inhabitants or guests of an 
ancient mansion.
On an elevated seat, directly before the accused, sat the Grand Master of 
the Temple, in full and ample robes of flowing white, holding in his hand 
the mystic staff, which bore the symbol of the Order. At his feet was 
placed a table, occupied by two scribes, chaplains of the Order, whose duty 
it was to reduce to formal record the proceedings of the day. The black 
dresses, bare scalps, and demure looks of these church-men, formed a strong 
contrast to the warlike appearance of the knights who attended, either as 
residing in the Preceptory, or as come thither to attend upon their Grand 
Master. The Preceptors, of whom there were four present, occupied seats 
lower in height, and somewhat drawn back behind that of their superior; and 
the knights, who enjoyed no such rank in the Order, were placed on benches 
still lower, and preserving the same distance from the Preceptors as these 
from the Grand Master. Behind them, but still upon the dais or elevated 
portion of the hall, stood the esquires of the Order, in white dresses of 
an inferior quality.
The whole assembly wore an aspect of the most profound gravity; and in the 
faces of the knights might be perceived traces of military daring, united 
with the solemn carriage becoming men of a religious profession, and which, 
in the presence of their Grand Master, failed not to sit upon every brow.
The remaining and lower part of the hall was filled with guards, holding 
partisans, and with other attendants whom curiosity had drawn thither, to 
see at once a Grand Master and a Jewish sorceress. By far the greater part 
of those inferior persons were, in one rank or other, connected with the 
Order, and were accordingly distinguished by their black dresses. But 
peasants from the neighbouring country were not refused admittance; for it 
was the pride of Beaumanoir to render the edifying spectacle of the justice 
which he administered as public as possible. His large blue eyes seemed to 
expand as be gazed around the assembly, and his countenance appeared elated 
by the conscious dignity, and imaginary merit, of the part which he was 
about to perform. A psalm, which he himself accompanied with a deep mellow 
voice, which age had not deprived of its powers, commenced the proceedings 
of the day; and the solemn sounds, Venite, exultemus Domino, so often sung 
by the Templars before engaging with earthly adversaries, was judged by 
Lucas most appropriate to introduce the approaching triumph, for such he 
deemed it, over the powers of darkness. The deep prolonged notes, raised by 
a hundred masculine voices accustomed to combine in the choral chant, arose 
to the vaulted roof of the hill, and rolled on amongst its arches with the 
pleasing yet solemn sound of the rushing of mighty waters.
When the sounds ceased, the Grand Master glanced his eye slowly around the 
circle, and observed that the seat of one of the Preceptors was vacant. 
Brian de Bois-Guilbert, by whom it had been occupied, had left his place, 
and was now standing near the extreme corner of one of the benches occupied 
by the Knights Companions of the Temple, one hand extending his long 
mantle, so as in some degree to hide his face; while the other held his 
cross-handled sword, with the point of which, sheathed as it was, he was 
slowly drawing lines upon the oaken floor.
"Unhappy man!" said the Grand Master, after favouring him with a glance of 
compassion. "Thou seest, Conrade, how this holy work distresses him. To 
this can the light look of woman, aided by the Prince of the Powers of this 
world, bring a valiant and worthy knight! - Seest thou he cannot look upon 
us; he cannot look upon her; and who knows by what impulse from his 
tormentor his hand forms these cabalistic lines upon the floor? - It may be 
our life and safety are thus aimed at; but we spit at and defy the foul 
enemy. Semper Leo percutiatur!"
This was communicated apart to his confidential follower, Conrade Mont-
Fitchet. The Grand Master then raised his voice, and addressed the 
assembly.
"Reverend and valiant men, Knights, Preceptors, and Companions of this Holy 
Order, my brethren and my children! - you also, well-born and pious 
Esquires, who aspire to wear this holy Cross! - and you also, Christian 
brethren, of every degree! - Be it known to you, that it is not defect of 
power in us which hath occasioned the assembling of this congregation; for, 
however unworthy in our person, yet to us is committed, with this batoon, 
full power to judge and to try all that regards the weal of this our Holy 
Order. Holy Saint Bernard, in the rule of our knightly and religious 
profession, hath said, in the fifty-ninth capital, that he would not that 
brethren be called together in council, save at the will and command of the 
Master; leaving it free to us, as to those more worthy fathers who have 
preceded us in this our office, to judge, as well of the occasion as of the 
time and place in which a chapter of the whole Order, or of any part 
thereof, may be convoked. Also, in all such chapters, it is our duty to 
hear the advice of our brethren, and to proceed according to our own 
pleasure. But when the raging wolf hath made an inroad upon the flock, and 
carried off one member thereof, it is the duty of the kind shepherd to call 
his comrades together, that with bows and slings they may quell the 
invader, according to our well-known rule, that the lion is ever to be 
beaten down. We have therefore summoned to our presence a Jewish woman, by 
name Rebecca, daughter of Isaac of York - a woman infamous for sortileges 
and for witcheries; whereby she hath maddened the blood, and besotted the 
brain, not of a churl, but of a Knight - not of a secular Knight, but of 
one devoted to the service of the Holy Temple - not of a Knight Companion, 
but of a Preceptor of our Order, first in honour as in place. Our brother, 
Brian de Bois-Guilbert, is well known to ourselves, and to all degrees who 
now hear me, as a true and zealous champion of the Cross, by whose arm many 
deeds of valour have been wrought in the Holy Land, and the holy places 
purified from pollution by the blood of those infidels who defiled them. 
Neither have our brother's sagacity and prudence been less in repute among 
his brethren than his valour and discipline; in so much, that knights, both 
in eastern and western lands, have named De Bois-Guilbert as one who may 
well be put in nomination as successor to this batoon, when it shall please 
Heaven to release us from the toil of bearing it. If we were told that such 
a man, so honoured, and so honourable, suddenly casting away regard for his 
character, his vows, his brethren, and his prospects, had associated to 
himself a Jewish damsel, wandered in this lewd company, through solitary 
places, defended her person in preference to his own, and, finally, was so 
utterly blinded and besotted by his folly, as to bring her even to one of 
our own Preceptories, what should we say but that the noble knight was 
possessed by some evil demon, or influenced by some wicked spell? - If we 
could suppose it otherwise, think not rank, valour, high repute, or any 
earthly consideration, should prevent us from visiting him with punishment, 
that the evil thing might be removed, even according to the text, Auferte 
malum ex vobis. For various and heinous are the acts of transgression 
against the rule of our blessed Order in this lamentable history. - 1st, He 
hath walked according to his proper will, contrary to capital 33, Quod 
nullus juxta propriam voluntatem incedat. - 2d, He hath held communication 
with an excommunicated person, capital 57, Ut fratres non participent cum 
excommunicatis, and therefore hath a portion in Anathema Maranatha. - 3d, 
He hath conversed with strange women, contrary to the capital, Ut fratres 
non conversentur cum extraneis mulieribus. - 4th, He hath not avoided, nay, 
he hath, it is to be feared, solicited the kiss of woman; by which, saith 
the last rule of our renowned Order, Ut fugiantur oscula, the soldiers of 
the Cross are brought into a snare. For which heinous and multiplied guilt, 
Brian de Bois-Guilbert should be cut off and cast out from our 
congregation, were he the right hand and right eye thereof."
He paused. A low murmur went through the assembly. Some of the younger 
part, who had been inclined to smile at the statute De osculis fugiendis, 
became now grave enough, and anxiously waited what the Grand Master was 
next to propose.
"Such," he said, "and so great should indeed be the punishment of a Knight 
Templar, who wilfully offended against the rules of his Order in such 
weighty points. But if, by means of charms and of spells, Satan had 
obtained dominion over the Knight, perchance because he cast his eyes too 
lightly upon a damsel's beauty, we are then rather to lament than chastise 
his backsliding; and, imposing on him only such penance as may purify him 
from his iniquity, we are to turn the full edge of our indignation upon the 
accursed instrument, which had so wellnigh occasioned his utter falling 
away. - Stand forth, therefore, and bear witness, ye who have witnessed 
these unhappy doings, that we may judge of the sum and bearing thereof; and 
judge whether our justice may be satisfied with the punishment of this 
infidel woman, or if we must go on, with a bleeding heart, to the further 
proceeding against our brother."
Several witnesses were called upon to prove the risks to which Bois-
Guilbert exposed himself in endeavouring to save Rebecca from the blazing 
castle, and his neglect of his personal defence in attending to her safety. 
The men gave these details with the exaggerations common to vulgar minds 
which have been strongly excited by any remarkable event, and their natural 
disposition to the marvellous was greatly increased by the satisfaction 
which their evidence seemed to afford to the eminent person for whose 
information it had been delivered. Thus the dangers which Bois-Guilbert 
surmounted, in themselves sufficiently great, became portentous in their 
narrative. The devotion of the Knight to Rebecca's defence was exaggerated 
beyond the bounds, not only of discretion, but even of the most frantic 
excess of chivalrous zeal; and his deference to what she said, even 
although her language was often severe and upbraiding, was painted as 
carried to an excess, which, in a man of his haughty temper, seemed almost 
preternatural.
The Preceptor of Templestowe was then called on to describe the manner in 
which Bois-Guilbert and the Jewess arrived at the Preceptory. The evidence 
of Malvoisin was skilfully guarded. But while he apparently studied to 
spare the feelings of Bois-Guilbert, he threw in, from time to time, such 
hints, as seemed to infer that he laboured under some temporary alienation 
of mind, so deeply did he appear to be enamoured of the damsel whom he 
brought along with him. With sighs of penitence, the Preceptor avowed his 
own contrition for having admitted Rebecca and her lover within the walls 
of the Preceptory - "But my defence," he concluded, "has been made in my 
confession to our most reverend father the Grand Master; he knows my 
motives were not evil, though my conduct may have been irregular. Joyfully 
will I submit to any penance he shall assign me."
"Thou hast spoken well, Brother Albert," said Beaumanoir; "thy motives were 
good, since thou didst judge it right to arrest thine erring brother in his 
career of precipitate folly. But thy conduct was wrong; as he that would 
stop a runaway steed, and seizing by the stirrup instead of the bridle, 
receiveth injury himself, instead of accomplishing his purpose. Thirteen 
paternosters are assigned by our pious founder for matins, and nine for 
vespers; be those services doubled by thee. Thrice a-week are Templars 
permitted the use of flesh; but do thou keep fast for all the seven days. 
This do for six weeks to come, and thy penance is accomplished."
With a hypocritical look of the deepest submission, the Preceptor of 
Templestowe bowed to the ground before his Superior, and resumed his seat.
"Were it not well, brethren," said the Grand Master, "that we examine 
something into the former life and conversation of this woman, specially 
that we may discover whether she be one likely to use magical charms and 
spells, since the truths which we have heard may well incline us to 
suppose, that in this unhappy course our erring brother has been acted upon 
by some infernal enticement and delusion?"
Herman of Goodalricke was the Fourth Preceptor present; the other three 
were Conrade, Malvoisin, and Bois-Guilbert himself. Herman was an ancient 
warrior, whose face was marked with sears inflicted by the sabre of the 
Moslemah, and had great rank and consideration among his brethren. He arose 
and bowed to the Grand Master, who instantly granted him license of speech. 
"I would crave to know, most Reverend Father, of our valiant brother, Brian 
de Bois-Guilbert, what he says to these wondrous accusations, and with what 
eye he himself now regards his unhappy intercourse with this Jewish 
maiden?"
"Brian de Bois-Guilbert," said the Grand Master, "thou hearest the question 
which our Brother of Goodalricke desirest thou shouldst answer. I command 
thee to reply to him."
Bois-Guilbert turned his head towards the Grand Master when thus addressed, 
and remained silent.
"He is possessed by a dumb devil," said the Grand Master. "Avoid thee, 
Sathanus! - Speak, Brian de Bois-Guilbert, I conjure thee, by this symbol 
of our Holy Order."
Bois-Guilbert made an effort to suppress his rising scorn and indignation, 
the expression of which, he was well aware, would have little availed him. 
"Brian de Bois-Guilbert," he answered, "replies not, most Reverend Father, 
to such wild and vague charges. If his honour be impeached, he will defend 
it with his body, and with that sword which has often fought for 
Christendom."
"We forgive thee, Brother Brian," said the Grand Master; "though that thou 
hast boasted thy warlike achievements before us, is a glorifying of thine 
own deeds, and cometh of the Enemy, who tempteth us to exalt our own 
worship. But thou hast our pardon, judging thou speakest less of thine own 
suggestion than from the impulse of him whom by Heaven's leave, we will 
quell and drive forth from our assembly." A glance of disdain flashed from 
the dark fierce eyes of Bois-Guilbert, but he made no reply. - "And now," 
pursued the Grand Master, "since our Brother of Goodalricke's question has 
been thus imperfectly answered, pursue we our quest, brethren, and with our 
patron's assistance, we will search to the bottom this mystery of iniquity. 
- Let those who have aught to witness of the life and conversation of this 
Jewish woman, stand forth before us." There was a bustle in the lower part 
of the hall, and when the Grand Master enquired the reason, it was replied, 
there was in the crowd a bedridden man, whom the prisoner had restored to 
the perfect use of his limbs, by a miraculous balsam.
The poor peasant, a Saxon by birth, was dragged forward to the bar, 
terrified at the penal consequences which he might have incurred by the 
guilt of having been cured of the palsy by a Jewish damsel. Perfectly cured 
be certainly was not, for he supported himself forward on crutches to give 
evidence. Most unwilling was his testimony, and given with many tears; but 
he admitted that two years since, when residing at York, he was suddenly 
afflicted with a sore disease, while labouring for Isaac the rich Jew, in 
his vocation of a joiner; that he had been unable to stir from his bed 
until the remedies applied by Rebecca's directions, and especially a 
warming and spicy-smelling balsam, had in some degree restored him to the 
use of his limbs. Moreover, he said, she had given him a pot of that 
precious ointment, and furnished him with a piece of money withal, to 
return to the house of his father, near to Templestowe. "And may it please 
your gracious Reverence," said the man, "I cannot think the damsel meant 
harm by me, though she hath the ill hap to be a Jewess; for even when I 
used her remedy, I said the Pater and the Creed, and it never operated a 
whit less kindly - "
"Peace, slave," said the Grand Master, "and begone! It well suits brutes 
like thee to be tampering and trinketing with hellish cures, and to be 
giving your labour to the sons of mischief. I tell thee, the fiend can 
impose diseases for the very purpose of removing them, in order to bring 
into credit some diabolical fashion of cure. Hast thou that unguent of 
which thou speakest?"
The peasant, fumbling in his bosom with a trembling hand, produced a small 
box, bearing some Hebrew characters on the lid, which was, with most of the 
audience, a sure proof that the devil had stood apothecary. Beaumanoir, 
after crossing himself, took the box into his hand, and, learned in most of 
the Eastern tongues, read with ease the motto on the lid, - The Lion of the 
tribe of Judah hath conquered. "Strange powers of Sathanas." said he, 
"which can convert Scripture into blasphemy, mingling poison with our 
necessary food! - Is there no leech here who can tell us the ingredients of 
this mystic unguent?"
Two mediciners, as they called themselves, the one a monk, the other a 
barber, appeared, and avouched they knew nothing of the materials, 
excepting that they savoured of myrrh and camphire, which they took to be 
Oriental herbs. But with the true professional hatred to a successful 
practitioner of their art, they insinuated that, since the medicine was 
beyond their own knowledge, it must necessarily have been compounded from 
an unlawful and magical pharmacopoeia; since they themselves, though no 
conjurors, fully understood every branch of their art, so far as it might 
be exercised with the good faith of a Christian. When this medical research 
was ended, the Saxon peasant desired humbly to have back the medicine which 
he had found so salutary; but the Grand Master frowned severely at the 
request. "What is thy name, fellow?" said he to the cripple.
"Higg, the son of Snell," answered the peasant.
"Then Higg, son of Snell," said the Grand Master, "I tell thee it is better 
to be bedridden, than to accept the benefit of unbelievers' medicine that 
thou mayst arise and walk; better to despoil infidels of their treasure by 
the strong hand, than to accept of them benevolent gifts, or do them 
service for wages. Go thou, and do as I have said."
"Alack," said the peasant, "an it shall not displease your Reverence, the 
lesson comes too late for me, for I am but a maimed man; but I will tell my 
two brethren, who serve the rich Rabbi Nathan Ben Samuel, that your 
mastership says it is more lawful to rob him than to render him faithful 
service."
"Out with the prating villain!" said Beaumanoir, who was not prepared to 
refute this practical application of his general maxim.
Higg, the son of Snell, withdrew into the crowd, but, interested in the 
fate of his benefactress, lingered until he should learn her doom, even at 
the risk of again encountering the frown of that severe judge, the terror 
of which withered his very heart within him.
At this period of the trial, the Grand Master commanded Rebecca to unveil 
herself. Opening her lips for the first time, she replied patiently, but 
with dignity, - "That it was not the wont of the daughters of her people to 
uncover their faces when alone in an assembly of strangers." The sweet 
tones. of her voice, and the softness of her reply, impressed on the 
audience a sentiment of pity and sympathy. But Beaumanoir, in whose mind 
the suppression of each feeling of humanity which could interfere with his 
imagined duty, was a virtue of itself, repeated his commands that his 
victim should be unveiled. The guards were about to remove her veil 
accordingly, when she stood up before the Grand Master and said, "Nay, but 
for the love of your own daughters - Alas," she said, recollecting herself, 
"ye have no daughters! - yet for the remembrance of your mothers - for the 
love of your sisters, and of female decency, let me not be thus handled in 
your presence; it suits not a maiden to be disrobed by such rude grooms. I 
will obey you," she added, with an expression of patient sorrow in her 
voice, which had almost melted the heart of Beaumanoir himself; "ye are 
elders among your people, and at your command I will show the features of 
an ill-fated maiden."
She withdrew her veil, and looked on them with a countenance in which 
bashfulness contended with dignity. Her exceeding beauty excited a murmur 
of surprise, and the younger knights told each other with their eyes, in 
silent correspondence, that Brian's best apology was in the power of her 
real charms, rather than of her imaginary witchcraft. But Higg, the son of 
Snell, felt most deeply the effect produced by the sight of the countenance 
of his benefactress. "Let me go forth," he said to the warders at the door 
of the hall, - "let me go forth! - To look at her again will kill me, for I 
have had a share in murdering her."
"Peace, poor man," said Rebecca, when she heard his exclamation; "thou hast 
done me no harm by speaking the truth - thou canst not aid me by thy 
complaints or lamentations. Peace, I pray thee - go home and save thyself."
Higg was about to be thrust out by the compassion of the warders, who were 
apprehensive lest his clamorous grief should draw upon them reprehension, 
and upon himself punishment. But he promised to be silent, and was 
permitted to remain. The two men-at-arms, with whom Albert Malvoisin had 
not failed to communicate upon the import of their testimony, were now 
called forward. Though both were hardened and inflexible villains, the 
sight of the captive maiden, as well as her excelling beauty, at first 
appeared to stagger them; but an expressive glance from the Preceptor of 
Templestowe restored them to their dogged composure; and they delivered, 
with a precision which would have seemed suspicious to more impartial 
judges, circumstances either altogether fictitious or trivial, and natural 
in themselves, but rendered pregnant with suspicion by the exaggerated 
manner in which they were told, and the sinister commentary which the 
witnesses added to the facts. The circumstances of their evidence would 
have been, in modern days, divided into two classes - those which were 
immaterial, and those which were actually and physically impossible. But 
both were, in those ignorant and superstitions times, easily credited as 
proofs of guilt. - The first class set forth, that Rebecca was heard to 
mutter to herself in an unknown tongue - that the songs she sung by fits 
were of a strangely sweet sound, which made the ears of the hearer tingle, 
and his heart throb - that she spoke at times to herself, and seemed to 
look upward for a reply - that her garments were of a strange and mystic 
form, unlike those of women of good repute - that she had rings impressed 
with cabalistical devices, and that strange characters were broidered on 
her veil.
All these circumstances, so natural and so trivial, were gravely listened 
to as proofs, or, at least, as affording strong suspicions that Rebecca had 
unlawful correspondence with mystical powers.
But there was less equivocal testimony, which the credulity of the 
assembly, or of the greater part, greedily swallowed, however incredible. 
One of the soldiers had seen her work a cure upon a wounded man, brought 
with them to the castle of Torquilstone. She did, he said, make certain 
signs upon the wound, and repeated certain mysterious words, which he 
blessed God he understood not, when the iron head of a square cross-bow 
bolt disengaged itself from the wound, the bleeding was stanched, the wound 
was closed, and the dying man was, within a quarter of an hour, walking 
upon the ramparts, and assisting the witness in managing a mangonel, or 
machine for hurling stones. This legend was probably founded upon the fact, 
that Rebecca had attended on the wounded Ivanhoe when in the castle of 
Torquilstone. But it was the more difficult to dispute the accuracy of the 
witness, as, in order to produce real evidence in support of his verbal 
testimony, he drew from his pouch the very bolt-head, which, according to 
his story, had been miraculously extracted from the wound; and as the iron 
weighed a full ounce, it completely confirmed the tale, however marvellous.
His comrade had been a witness from a neighbouring battlement of the scene 
betwixt Rebecca and Bois-Guilbert, when she was upon the point of 
precipitating herself from the top of the tower. Not to be behind his 
companion, this fellow stated, that he had seen Rebecca perch herself upon 
the parapet of the turret, and there take the form of a milk-white swan, 
under which appearance she flitted three times round the castle of 
Torquilstone; then again settle on the turret, and once more assume the 
female form.
Less than one half of this weighty evidence would have been sufficient to 
convict any old woman, poor and ugly, even though she had not been a 
Jewess. United with that fatal circumstance, the body of proof was too 
weighty for Rebecca's youth, though combined with the most exquisite 
beauty.
The Grand Master had collected the suffrages, and now in a solemn tone 
demanded of Rebecca what she had to say against the sentence of 
condemnation, which he was about to pronounce.
"To invoke your pity," said the lovely Jewess, with a voice somewhat 
tremulous with emotion, "would, I am aware, be as useless as I should hold 
it mean. To state that to relieve the sick and wounded of another religion, 
cannot be displeasing to the acknowledged Founder of both our faiths, were 
also unavailing; to plead that many things which these men (whom may Heaven 
pardon!) have spoken against me are impossible, would avail me but little, 
since you believe in their possibility; and still less would it advantage 
me to explain, that the peculiarities of my dress, language, and manners, 
are those of my people - I had wellnigh said of my country, but alas! we 
have no country. Nor will I even vindicate myself at the expense of my 
oppressor, who stands there listening to the fictions and surmises which 
seem to convert the tyrant into the victim. - God be judge between him and 
me! but rather would I submit to ten such deaths as your pleasure may 
denounce against me, than listen to the suit which that man of Belial has 
urged upon me - friendless, defenceless, and his prisoner. But he is of 
your own faith, and his lightest affirmance would weigh down the most 
solemn protestations of the distressed Jewess. I will not therefore return 
to himself the charge brought against me - but to himself - Yes, Brian de 
Bois-Guilbert, to thyself I appeal, whether these accusations are not 
false? as monstrous and calumnious as they are deadly?"
There was a pause; all eyes turned to Brain de Bois-Guilbert. He was 
silent.
"Speak," she said, "if thou art a man - if thou art a Christian, speak! - I 
conjure thee, by the habit which thou dost wear, by the name thou dost 
inherit - by the knighthood thou dost vaunt - by the honour of thy mother - 
by the tomb and the bones of thy father - I conjure thee to say, are these 
things true?"
"Answer her, brother," said the Grand Master, "if the Enemy with whom thou 
dost wrestle will give thee power."
In fact, Bois-Guilbert seemed agitated by contending passions, which almost 
convulsed his features, and it was with a constrained voice that at last he 
replied, looking to Rebecca, - "The scroll! - the scroll!"
"Ay," said Beaumanoir, "this is indeed testimony! The victim of her 
witcheries can only name the fatal scroll, the spell inscribed on which is, 
doubtless, the cause of his silence."
But Rebecca put another interpretation on the words extorted as it were 
from Bois-Guilbert, and glancing her eye upon the slip of parchment which 
she continued to hold in her hand, she read written thereupon in the 
Arabian character, Demand a Champion! The murmuring commentary which ran 
through the assembly at the strange reply of Bois-Guilbert, gave Rebecca 
leisure to examine and instantly to destroy the scroll unobserved. When the 
whisper had ceased, the Grand Master spoke.
"Rebecca, thou canst derive no benefit from the evidence of this unhappy 
knight, for whom, as we well perceive, the Enemy is yet too powerful. Hast 
thou aught else to say?"
"There is yet one chance of life left to me," said Rebecca, "even by your 
own fierce laws. Life has been miserable - miserable, at least, of late - 
but I will not cast away the gift of God, while he affords me the means of 
defending it. I deny this charge - I maintain my innocence, and I declare 
the falsehood of this accusation - I challenge the privilege of trial by 
combat, and will appear by my champion."
"And who, Rebecca," replied the Grand Master, "will lay lance in rest for a 
sorceress? who will be the champion of a Jewess?"
"God will raise me up a champion," said Rebecca - "It cannot be that in 
merry England - the hospitable, the generous, the free, where so many are 
ready to peril their lives for honour, there will not be found one to fight 
for justice. But it is enough that I challenge the trial by combat - there 
lies my gage."
She took her embroidered glove from her hand, and flung it down before the 
Grand Master with an air of mingled simplicity and dignity, which excited 
universal surprise and admiration.


Chapter 38

				-- There I throw my gage,
		To prove it on thee to the extremest point
		Of martial daring.
							-- Richard II.


Even Lucas Beaumanoir himself was affected by the mien and appearance of 
Rebecca. He was not originally a cruel or even a severe man; but with 
passions by nature cold, and with a high, though mistaken, sense of duty, 
his heart had been gradually hardened by the ascetic life which he pursued, 
the supreme power which he enjoyed, and the supposed necessity of subduing 
infidelity and eradicating heresy, which he conceived peculiarly incumbent 
on him. His features relaxed in their usual severity as he gazed upon the 
beautiful creature before him, alone, unfriended, and defending herself 
with so much spirit and courage. He crossed himself twice, as doubting 
whence arose the unwonted softening of a heart, which on such occasions 
used to resemble in hardness the steel of his sword. At length he spoke.
"Damsel," he said, "if the pity I feel for thee arise from any practice 
thine evil arts have made on me, great is thy guilt. But I rather judge it 
the kinder feelings of nature, which grieves that so goodly a form should 
be a vessel of perdition. Repent, my daughter - confess thy witchcrafts - 
turn thee from thine evil faith - embrace this holy emblem, and all shall 
yet be well with thee here and hereafter. In some sisterhood of the 
strictest order, shalt thou have time for prayer and fitting penance, and 
that repentance not to be repented of. This do and live - what has the law 
of Moses done for thee that thou shouldst die for it?"
"It was the law of my fathers," said Rebecca; "it was delivered in thunders 
and in storms upon the mountain of Sinai, in cloud and in fire. This, if ye 
are Christians, ye believe - it is, you say, recalled; but so my teachers 
have not taught me."
"Let our chaplain," said Beaumanoir, "stand forth, and tell this obstinate 
infidel - "
"Forgive the interruption," said Rebecca, meekly; "I am a maiden, unskilled 
to dispute for my religion, but I can die for it, if it be God's will. - 
Let me pray your answer to my demand of a champion."
"Give me her glove," said Beaumanoir. "This is indeed," he continued, as he 
looked at the flimsy texture and slender fingers, "a slight and frail gage 
for a purpose so deadly! - Seest thou, Rebecca, as this thin and light 
glove of thine is to one of our heavy steel gauntlets, so is thy cause to 
that of the Temple, for it is our Order which thou hast defied."
"Cast my innocence into the scale," answered Rebecca, "and the glove of 
silk shall outweigh the glove of iron."
"Then thou dost persist in thy refusal to confess thy guilt, and in that 
bold challenge which thou hast made?"
"I do persist, noble sir," answered Rebecca.
"So be it then, in the name of Heaven," said the Grand Master; "and may God 
show the right!"
"Amen," replied the Preceptors around him, and the word was deeply echoed 
by the whole assembly.
"Brethren," said Beaumanoir, "you are aware that we might well have refused 
to this woman the benefit of the trial by combat - but though a Jewess and 
an unbeliever, she is also a stranger and defenceless, and God forbid that 
she should ask the benefit of our mild laws, and that it should be refused 
to her. Moreover, we are knights and soldiers as well as men of religion, 
and shame it were to us upon any pretence, to refuse proffered combat. 
Thus, therefore, stands the case. Rebecca, the daughter of Isaac of York, 
is, by many frequent and suspicious circumstances, defamed of sorcery 
practised on the person of a noble knight of our holy Order, and hath 
challenged the combat in proof of her innocence. To whom, reverend 
brethren, is it your opinion that we should deliver the gage of battle, 
naming him, at the same time, to be our champion on the field?"
"To Brian de Bois-Guilbert, whom it chiefly concerns," said the Preceptor 
of Goodalricke, "and who, moreover, best knows how the truth stands in this 
matter."
"But if," said the Grand Master, "our brother Brian be under the influence 
of a charm or a spell - we speak but for the sake of precaution, for to the 
arm of none of our holy Order would we more willingly confide this or a 
more weighty cause."
"Reverend father," answered the Preceptor of Goodalricke, "no spell can 
effect the champion who comes forward to fight for the judgement of God."
"Thou sayst right, brother," said the Grand Master. "Albert Malvoisin, give 
this gage of battle to Brian de Bois-Guilbert. - It is our charge to thee, 
brother," he continued, addressing himself to Bois-Guilbert, "that thou do 
thy battle manfully, nothing doubting that the good cause shall triumph. - 
And do thou, Rebecca, attend, that we assign thee the third day from the 
present to find a champion."
"That is but brief space," answered Rebecca, "for a stranger, who is also 
of another faith, to find one who will do battle, wagering life and honour 
for her cause, against a knight who is called an approved soldier."
"We may not extend it," answered the Grand Master; "the field must be 
foughten in our own presence, and divers weighty causes call us on the 
fourth day from hence."
"God's will be done!" said Rebecca; "I put my trust in Him, to whom an 
instant is as effectual to save as a whole age."
"Thou hast spoken well, damsel," said the Grand Master; "but well know we 
who can array himself like an angel of light. It remains but to name a 
fitting place of combat, and, if it so hap, also of execution. - Where is 
the Preceptor of this house?"
Albert Malvoisin, still holding Rebecca's glove in his hand, was speaking 
to Bois-Guilbert very earnestly, but in a low voice.
"How!" said the Grand Master, "will he not receive the gage?"
"He will - he doth, most Reverend Father," said Malvoisin, slipping the 
glove under his own mantle. "And for the place of combat, I hold the 
fittest to be the lists of Saint George belonging to this Preceptory, and 
used by us for military exercise."
"It is well," said the Grand Master. - "Rebecca, in those lists shalt thou 
produce thy champion; and if thou failest to do so, or if thy champion 
shall be discomfited by the judgement of God, thou shalt then die the death 
of a sorceress, according to doom. - Let this our judgement be recorded, 
and the record read aloud, that no one may pretend ignorance."
One of the chaplains, who acted as clerks to the chapter, immediately 
engrossed the order in a huge volume, which contained the proceedings of 
the Templar Knights when solemnly assembled on such occasions; and when he 
had finished writing, the other read aloud the sentence of the Grand 
Master, which, when translated from the Norman-French in which it was 
couched, was expressed as follows. -

"Rebecca, a Jewess, daughter of Isaac of York, being attainted of sorcery, 
seduction, and other damnable practices, practised on a Knight of the most 
Holy Order of the Temple of Zion, doth deny the same; and saith, that the 
testimony delivered against her this day is false, wicked, and disloyal; 
and that by lawful essoine of her body as being unable to combat in her own 
behalf, she doth offer, by a champion instead thereof, to avouch her case, 
he performing his loyal devoir in all knightly sort, with such arms as to 
gage of battle do fully appertain, and that at her peril and cost. And 
therewith she proffered her gage. And the gage having been delivered to the 
noble Lord and Knight, Brian de Bois-Guilbert, of the Holy Order of the 
Temple of Zion, he was appointed to do this battle, in behalf of his Order 
and himself, as injured and impaired by the practices of the appellant. 
Wherefore the most reverend Father and puissant Lord, Lucas Marquis of 
Beaumanoir, did allow of the said challenge, and of the said essoine of the 
appellant's body, and assigned the third day for the said combat, the place 
being the enclosure called the lists of Saint George, near to the 
Preceptory of Templestowe. And the Grand Master appoints the appellant to 
appear there by her champion, on pain of doom, as a person convicted of 
sorcery or seduction; and also the defendant so to appear, under the 
penalty of being held and adjudged recreant in case of default; and the 
noble Lord and most reverend Father aforesaid appointed the battle to be 
done in his own presence, and according to all that is commendable and 
profitable in such a case. And may God aid the just cause!"
"Amen!" said the Grand Master; and the word was echoed by all around. 
Rebecca spoke not, but she looked up to heaven, and, folding her hands, 
remained for a minute without change of attitude. She then modestly 
reminded the Grand Master, that she ought to be permitted some opportunity 
of free communication with her friends, for the purpose of making her 
condition known to them, and procuring, if possible, some champion to fight 
in her behalf.
"It is just and lawful," said the Grand Master; "choose what messenger thou 
shalt trust, and he shall have free communication with thee in thy prison-
chamber."
"Is there," said Rebecca, "any one here, who, either for love of a good 
cause, or for ample hire, will do the errand of a distressed being?"
All were silent; for none thought it safe, in the presence of the Grand 
Master, to avow any interest in the calumniated prisoner, lest he should be 
suspected of leaning towards Judaism. Not even the prospect of reward, far 
less any feelings of compassion alone, could surmount this apprehension.
Rebecca stood for a few moments in indescribable anxiety, and then 
exclaimed, "Is it really thus? - And, in English land, am I to be deprived 
of the poor chance of safety which remains to me, for want of an act of 
charity which would not be refused to the worst criminal?"
Higg, the son of Snell, at length replied, "I am but a maimed man, but that 
I can at all stir or move was owing to her charitable assistance. - I will 
do thine errand," he added, addressing Rebecca, "as well as a crippled 
object can, and happy were my limbs fleet enough to repair the mischief 
done by my tongue. Alas! when I boasted of thy charity, I little thought I 
was leading thee into danger!"
"God," said Rebecca, "is the disposer of all. He can turn back the 
captivity of Judah, even by the weakest instrument. To execute his message 
the snail is as sure a messenger as the falcon. Seek out Isaac of York - 
here is that will pay for horse and man - let him have this scroll. - I 
know not if it be of Heaven the spirit which inspires me, but most truly do 
I judge that I am not to die this death, and that a champion will be raised 
up for me. Farewell! - Life and death are in thy haste."
The peasant took the scroll, which contained only a few lines in Hebrew. 
Many of the crowd would have dissuaded him from touching a document so 
suspicious; but Higg was resolute in the service of his benefactress. She 
had saved his body, he said, and he was confident she did not mean to peril 
his soul.
"I will get me," he said, "my neighbour Buthan's good capul, and I will be 
at York within as brief space as man and beast may."
But as it fortuned, he had no occasion to go so far, for within a quarter 
of a mile from the gate of the Preceptory he met with two riders, whom, by 
their dress and their huge yellow caps, he knew to be Jews; and, on 
approaching more nearly, discovered that one of them was his ancient 
employer, Isaac of York. The other was the Rabbi Ben Samuel; and both had 
approached as near to the Preceptory as they dared, on hearing that the 
Grand Master had summoned a chapter for the trial of a sorceress.
"Brother Ben Samuel," said Isaac, "my soul is disquieted, and I wot not 
why. This charge of necromancy is right often used for cloaking evil 
practices on our people."
"Be of good comfort, brother," said the physician; "thou canst deal with 
the Nazarenes as one possessing the mammon of unrighteousness, and canst 
therefore purchase immunity at their hands - it rules the savage minds of 
those ungodly men, even as the signet of the mighty Solomon was said to 
command the evil genii. - But what poor wretch comes hither upon his 
crutches, desiring, as I think, some speech of me? - Friend," continued the 
physician, addressing Higg, the son of Snell, "I refuse thee not the aid of 
mine art, but I relieve not with one asper those who beg for alms upon the 
highway. Out upon thee! - Hast thou the palsy in thy legs? then let thy 
hands work for thy livelihood; for, albeit thou best unfit for a speedy 
post, or for a careful shepherd, or for the warfare, or for the service of 
a hasty master, yet there be occupations - How now, brother?" said he, 
interrupting his harangue to look towards Isaac, who had but glanced at the 
scroll which Higg offered, when, uttering a deep groan, he fell from his 
mule like a dying man, and lay for a minute insensible.
The Rabbi now dismounted in great alarm, and hastily applied the remedies 
which his art suggested for the recovery of his companion. He had even 
taken from his pocket a cupping apparatus, and was about to proceed to 
phlebotomy, when the object of his anxious solicitude suddenly revived; but 
it was to dash his cap from his head, and to throw dust on his grey hairs. 
The physician was at first inclined to ascribe this sudden and violent 
emotion to the effects of insanity; and, adhering to his original purpose, 
began once again to handle his implements. But Isaac soon convinced him of 
his error.
"Child of my sorrow," he said, "well shouldst thou be called Benoni, 
instead of Rebecca! Why should thy death bring down my grey hairs to the 
grave, till, in the bitterness of my heart, I curse God and die!"
"Brother," said the Rabbi, in great surprise, "art thou a father in Israel, 
and dost thou utter words like unto these? - I trust that the child of thy 
house yet liveth?"
"She liveth," answered Isaac; "but it is as Daniel, who was called 
Beltheshazzar, even when within the den of the lions. She is captive unto 
those men of Belial, and they will wreak their cruelty upon her, sparing 
neither for her youth nor her comely favour. O! she was as a crown of green 
palms to my grey locks; and she must wither in a night, like the gourd of 
Jonah! - Child of my love! - child of my old age! - oh, Rebecca, daughter 
of Rachel! the darkness of the shadow of death hath encompassed thee."
"Yet read the scroll," said the Rabbi; "peradventure it may be that we may 
yet find out a way of deliverance."
"Do thou read, brother," answered Isaac, "for mine eyes are as a fountain 
of water."
The physician read, but in their native language, the following words: -
"To Isaac, the son of Adonikam, whom the Gentiles call Isaac of York, peace 
and the blessing of the promise be multiplied unto thee! - My father, I am 
as one doomed to die for that which my soul knoweth not - even for the 
crime of witchcraft. My father, if a strong man can be found to do battle 
for my cause with sword and spear, according to the custom of the 
Nazarenes, and that within the lists of Templestowe, on the third day from 
this time, peradventure our fathers' God will give him strength to defend 
the innocent, and her who hath none to help her. But if this may not be, 
let the virgins of our people mourn for me as for one cast off, and for the 
hart that is stricken by the hunter, and for the flower which is cut down 
by the scythe of the mower. Wherefore look now what thou doest, and whether 
there be any rescue. One Nazarene warrior might indeed bear arms in my 
behalf, even Wilfred, son of Cedric, whom the Gentiles call Ivanhoe. But he 
may not yet endure the weight of his armour. Nevertheless, send the tidings 
unto him, my father; for he hath favour among the strong men of his people, 
and as he was our companion in the house of bondage, he may find some one 
to do battle for my sake. And say unto him, even unto him, even unto 
Wilfred, the son of Cedric, that if Rebecca live, or if Rebecca die, she 
liveth or dieth wholly free of the guilt she is charged withal. And if it 
be the will of God that thou shalt be deprived of thy daughter, do not thou 
tarry, old man, in this land of bloodshed and cruelty; but betake thyself 
to Cordova, where thy brother liveth in safety, under the shadow of the 
throne, even of the throne of Boabdil the Saracen; for less cruel are the 
cruelties of the Moors unto the race of Jacob, than the cruelties of the 
Nazarenes of England."
Isaac listened with tolerable composure while Ben Samuel read the letter, 
and then again resumed the gestures and exclamations of Oriental sorrow, 
tearing his garments, besprinkling his head with dust, and ejaculating, "My 
daughter! my daughter! flesh of my flesh, and bone of my bone!"
"Yet," said the Rabbi, "take courage, for this grief availeth nothing. Gird 
up thy loins, and seek out this Wilfred, the son of Cedric. It may be he 
will help thee with counsel or with strength; for the youth hath favour in 
the eyes of Richard, called of the Nazarenes Coeur-de-Lion, and the tidings 
that he hath returned are constant in the land. It may be that be may 
obtain his letter, and his signet, commanding these men of blood, who take 
their name from the Temple to the dishonour thereof, that they proceed not 
in their purposed wickedness."
"I will seek him out," said Isaac, "for he is a good youth, and hath 
compassion for the exile of Jacob. But he cannot bear his armour, and what 
other Christian shall do battle for the oppressed of Zion?"
"Nay, but," said the Rabbi, "thou speakest as one that knoweth not the 
Gentiles. With gold shalt thou buy their valour, even as with gold thou 
buyest thine own safety. Be of good courage, and do thou set forward to 
find out this Wilfred of Ivanhoe. I will also up and be doing, for great 
sin it were to leave thee in thy calamity. I will hie me to the city of 
York, where many warriors and strong men are assembled, and doubt not I 
will find among them some one who will do battle for thy daughter; for gold 
is their god, and for riches will they pawn their lives as well as their 
lands. - Thou wilt fulfil, my brother, such promise as I may make unto them 
in thy name?"
"Assuredly, brother," said Isaac, "and Heaven be praised that raised me up 
a comforter in my misery. Howbeit, grant them not their full demand at 
once, for thou shalt find it the quality of this accursed people that they 
will ask pounds, and peradventure accept of ounces - Nevertheless, be it as 
thou willest, for I am distracted in this thing, and what would my gold 
avail me if the child of my love should perish!"
"Farewell," said the physician, "and may it be to thee as thy heart 
desireth."
They embraced accordingly, and departed on their several roads. The 
crippled peasant remained for some time looking after them.
"These dog-Jews!" said he; "to take no more notice of a free guild-brother, 
than if I were a bond slave or a Turk, or a circumcised Hebrew like 
themselves! They might have flung me a mancus or two, however. I was not 
obliged to bring their unhallowed scrawls, and run the risk of being 
bewitched, as more folks than one told me. And what care I for the bit of 
gold that the wench gave me, if I am to come to harm from the priest next 
Easter at confession, and be obliged to give him twice as much to make it 
up with him, and be called the Jew's flying post all my life, as it may 
hap, into the bargain? I think I was bewitched in earnest when I was beside 
that girl! - But it was always so with Jew or Gentile, whosoever came near 
her - none could stay when she had an errand to go - and still, whenever I 
think of her, I would give shop and tools to save her life."


Chapter 39

			O maid, unrelenting and cold as thou art,
			My bosom is proud as thine own.
								-- Seward.


It was in the twilight of the day when her trial, if it could be called 
such, had taken place, that a low knock was heard at the door of Rebecca's 
prison-chamber. It disturbed not the inmate, who was then engaged in the 
evening prayer recommended by her religion, and which concluded with a hymn 
we have ventured thus to translate into English.
When Israel, of the Lord beloved,
Out of the land of bondage came,
Her father's God before her moved,
An awful guide, in smoke and flame.
By day, along the astonish'd lands
The cloudy pillar glided slow;
By night, Arabia's crimson'd sands
Return'd the fiery column's glow.
There rose the choral hymn of praise,
And trump and timbrel answer'd keen,
And Zion's daughters pour'd their lays,
With priest's and warrior's voice between.
No portents now our foes amaze,
Forsaken Israel wanders lone;
Our fathers would not know Thy ways,
And Thou hast left them to their own.
But, present still, though now unseen;
When brightly shines the prosperous day,
Be thoughts of Thee a cloudy screen
To temper the deceitful ray.
And oh, when stoops on Judah's path
In shade and storm the frequent night,
Be Thou, long-suffering, slow to wrath,
A burning, and a shining light!
Our harps we left by Babel's streams,
The tyrant's jest, the Gentile's scorn;
No censer round our altar beams,
And mute our timbrel, trump, and horn.
But Thou hast said, the blood of goat,
The flesh of rams, I will not prize;
A contrite heart, and humble thought,
Are mine accepted sacrifice.
When the sounds of Rebecca's devotional hymn had died away in silence, the 
low knock at the door was again renewed. "Enter," she said, "if thou art a 
friend; and if a foe, I have not the means of refusing thy entrance."
"I am," said Brian de Bois-Guilbert, entering the apartment, "friend or 
foe, Rebecca, as the event of this interview shall make me."
Alarmed at the sight of this man, whose licentious passion she considered 
as the root of her misfortunes, Rebecca drew backward with a cautious and 
alarmed, yet not a timorous demeanour, into the farthest corner of the 
apartment, as if determined to retreat as far as she could, but to stand 
her ground when retreat became no longer possible. She drew herself into an 
attitude not of defiance, but of resolution, as one that would avoid 
provoking assault, yet was resolute to repel it, being offered, to the 
utmost of her power.
"You have no reason to fear me, Rebecca," said the Templar; "Or if I must 
so qualify my speech, you have at least now no reason to fear me."
"I fear you not, Sir Knight," replied Rebecca, although her short-drawn 
breath seemed to belie the heroism of her accents my trust is strong, and I 
fear thee not."
"You have no cause," answered Bois-Guilbert, gravely; "my former frantic 
attempts you have not now to dread. Within your call are guards, over whom 
I have no authority. They are designed to conduct you to death, Rebecca, 
yet would not suffer you to be insulted by any one, even by me, were my 
frenzy - for frenzy it is - to urge me so far."
"May Heaven be praised!" said the Jewess; "death is the least of my 
apprehensions in this den of evil."
"Ay," replied the Templar, "the idea of death is easily received by the 
courageous mind, when the road to it is sudden and open. A thrust with a 
lance, a stroke with a sword, were to me little - To you, a spring from a 
dizzy battlement, a stroke with a sharp poniard, has no terrors, compared 
with what either thinks disgrace. Mark me - I say this - perhaps mine own 
sentiments of honour are not less fantastic, Rebecca, than thine are; but 
we know alike how to die for them."
"Unhappy man," said the Jewess; "and art thou condemned to expose thy life 
for principles, of which thy sober judgement does not acknowledge the 
solidity? Surely this is a parting with your treasure for that which is not 
bread - but deem not so of me. Thy resolution may fluctuate on the wild and 
changeful billows of human opinion, but mine is anchored on the Rock of 
Ages."
"Silence, maiden," answered the Templar; "such discourse now avails but 
little. Thou art condemned to die not a sudden and easy death, such as 
misery chooses, and despair welcomes, but a slow, wretched, protracted 
course of torture, suited to what the diabolical bigotry of these men calls 
thy crime."
"And to whom - if such my fate - to whom do I owe this?" said Rebecca 
"surely only to him, who, for a most selfish and brutal cause, dragged me 
hither, and who now, for some unknown purpose of his own, strives to 
exaggerate the wretched fate to which he exposed me."
"Think not," said the Templar, "that I have so exposed thee; I would have 
bucklered thee against such danger with my own bosom, as freely as ever I 
exposed it to the shafts which had otherwise reached thy life."
"Had thy purpose been the honourable protection of the innocent," said 
Rebecca, "I had thanked thee for thy care - as it is, thou hast claimed 
merit for it so often, that I tell thee life is worth nothing to me, 
preserved at the price which thou wouldst exact for it."
"Truce with thine upbraidings, Rebecca," said the Templar; "I have my own 
cause of grief, and brook not that thy reproaches should add to it."
"What is thy purpose, then, Sir Knight?" said the Jewess; "speak it 
briefly. - If thou hast aught to do, save to witness the misery thou hast 
caused, let me know it; and then, if so it please you, leave me to myself - 
the step between time and eternity is short but terrible, and I have few 
moments to prepare for it."
"I perceive, Rebecca," said Bois-Guilbert, "that thou dost continue to 
burden me with the charge of distresses, which most fain would I have 
prevented."
"Sir Knight," said Rebecca, "I would avoid reproaches - But what is more 
certain than that I owe my death to thine unbridled passion?"
"You err - you err," - said the Templar, hastily, "if you impute what I 
could neither foresee nor prevent to my purpose or agency. - Could I guess 
the unexpected arrival of yon dotard, whom some flashes of frantic valour, 
and the praises yielded by fools to the stupid self-torments of an ascetic, 
have raised for the present above his own merits, above common sense, above 
me, and above the hundreds of our Order, who think and feel as men free 
from such silly and fantastic prejudices as are the grounds of his opinions 
and actions?"
"Yet," said Rebecca, "you sate a judge upon me, innocent - most innocent - 
as you knew me to be - you concurred in my condemnation, and, if I aright 
understood, are yourself to appear in arms to assert my guilt, and assure 
my punishment."
"Thy patience, maiden," replied the Templar. "No race knows so well as 
thine own tribes how to submit to the time, and so to trim their bark as to 
make advantage even of an adverse wind."
"Lamented be the hour," said Rebecca, "that has taught such art to the 
House of Israel! but adversity bends the heart as fire bends the stubborn 
steel, and those who are no longer their own governors, and the denizens of 
their own free independent state, must crouch before strangers. It is our 
curse, Sir Knight, deserved, doubtless, by our own misdeeds and those of 
our fathers; but you - you who boast your freedom as your birthright, how 
much deeper is your disgrace when you stoop to soothe the prejudices of 
others, and that against your own conviction?"
"Your words are bitter, Rebecca," said Bois-Guilbert, pacing the apartment 
with impatience, "but I came not hither to bandy reproaches with you. - 
Know that Bois-Guilbert yields not to created man, although circumstances 
may for a time induce him to alter his plan. His will is the mountain 
stream, which may indeed be turned for a little space aside by the rock, 
but fails not to find its course to the ocean. That scroll which warned 
thee to demand a champion, from whom couldst thou think it came, if not 
from Bois-Guilbert? In whom else couldst thou have excited such interest?"
"A brief respite from instant death," said Rebecca, "which will little 
avail me - was this all thou couldst do for one, on whose head thou hast 
heaped sorrow, and whom thou hast brought near even to the verge of the 
tomb?"
"No maiden," said Bois-Guilbert, "this was not all that I purposed. Had it 
not been for the accursed interference of yon fanatical dotard, and the 
fool of Goodalricke, who, being a Templar, affects to think and judge 
according to the ordinary rules of humanity, the office of the Champion 
Defender had devolved, not on a Preceptor, but on a Companion of the Order. 
Then I myself - such was my purpose - had, on the sounding of the trumpet, 
appeared in the lists as thy champion, disguised indeed in the fashion of a 
roving knight, who seeks adventures to prove his shield and spear; and 
then, let Beaumanoir have chosen not one, but two or three of the brethren 
here assembled, I had not doubted to cast them out of the saddle with my 
single lance. Thus, Rebecca, should thine innocence have been avouched, and 
to thine own gratitude would I have trusted for the reward of my victory."
"This, Sir Knight," said Rebecca, "is but idle boasting - a brag of what 
you would have done had you not found it convenient to do otherwise. You 
received my glove, and my champion, if a creature so desolate can find one, 
must encounter your lance in the lists - yet you would assume the air of my 
friend and protector!"
"Thy friend and protector," said the Templar, gravely, "I will yet be - but 
mark at what risk, or rather at what certainty, of dishonour; and then 
blame me not if I make my stipulations, before I offer up all that I have 
hitherto held dear, to save the life of a Jewish maiden."
"Speak," said Rebecca; "I understand thee not."
"Well, then," said Bois-Guilbert, "I will speak as freely as ever did 
doting penitent to his ghostly father, when placed in the tricky 
confessional. - Rebecca, if I appear not in these lists I lose fame and 
rank - lose that which is the breath of my nostrils, the esteem, I mean, in 
which I am held by my brethren, and the hopes I have of succeeding to that 
mighty authority, which is now wielded by the bigoted dotard Lucas de 
Beaumanoir, but of which I should make a different use. Such is my certain 
doom, except I appear in arms against thy cause. Accursed be he of 
Goodalricke, who baited this trap for me! and doubly accursed Albert de 
Malvoisin, who withheld me from the resolution I had formed, of hurling 
back the glove at the face of the superstitious and superannuated fool, who 
listened to a charge so absurd, and against a creature so high in mind, and 
so lovely in form as thou art!"
"And what now avails rant or flattery?" answered Rebecca. "Thou hast made 
thy choice between causing to be shed the blood of an innocent woman, or of 
endangering thine own earthly state and earthly hopes - What avails it to 
reckon together? - thy choice is made."
"No, Rebecca," said the knight, in a softer tone, and drawing nearer 
towards her; "my choice is not made - nay, mark, it is thine to make the 
election. If I appear in the lists, I must maintain my name in arms; and if 
I do so, championed or unchampioned, thou diest by the stake and faggot, 
for there lives not the knight who hath coped with me in arms on equal 
issue, or on terms of vantage, save Richard Coeur-de-Lion, and his minion 
of Ivanhoe. Ivanhoe, as thou well knowest, is unable to bear his corslet, 
and Richard is in a foreign prison. If I appear, then thou diest, even 
although thy charms should instigate some hot-headed youth to enter the 
lists in thy defence."
"And what avails repeating this so often?" said Rebecca.
"Much," replied the Templar; "for thou must learn to look at thy fate on 
every side."
"Well, then, turn the tapestry," said the Jewess, "and let me see the other 
side."
"If I appear," said Bois-Guilbert, "in the fatal lists, thou diest by a 
slow and cruel death, in pain such as they say is destined to the guilty 
hereafter. But if I appear not, then am I a degraded and dishonoured 
knight, accused of witchcraft and of communion with infidels - the 
illustrious name which bas grown yet more so under my wearing, becomes a 
hissing and a reproach. I lose fame, I lose honour, I lose the prospect of 
such greatness as scarce emperors attain to - I sacrifice mighty ambition, 
I destroy schemes built as high as the mountains with which heathens say 
their heaven was once nearly scaled - and yet, Rebecca," he added, throwing 
himself at her feet, "this greatness will I sacrifice, this fame will I 
renounce, this power will I forego, even now when it is half within my 
grasp, if thou wilt say, Bois-Guilbert, I receive thee for my lover."
"Think not of such foolishness, Sir Knight," answered Rebecca, "but hasten 
to the Regent, the Queen Mother, and to Prince John - they cannot, in 
honour to the English crown, allow of the proceedings of your Grand Master. 
So shall you give me protection without sacrifice on your part, or the 
pretext of requiring any requital from me."
"With these I deal not," he continued, holding the train of her robe - "it 
is thee only I address; and what can counterbalance thy choice? Bethink 
thee, were I a fiend, yet death is a worse, and it is death who is my 
rival."
"I weigh not these evils," said Rebecca, afraid to provoke the wild knight, 
yet equally determined neither to endure his passion, nor even feign to 
endure it. "Be a man, be a Christian! If indeed thy faith recommends that 
mercy which rather your tongues than your actions pretend, save me from 
this dreadful death, without seeking a requital which would change thy 
magnanimity into base barter."
"No, damsel!" said the proud Templar, springing up, "thou shalt not thus 
impose on me - if I renounce present fame and future ambition, I renounce 
it for thy sake, and we will escape in company. Listen to me, Rebecca," he 
said, again softening his tone; "England, - Europe, - is not the world. 
There are spheres in which we may act, ample enough even for my ambition. 
We will go to Palestine, where Conrade, Marquis of Montserrat, is my friend 
- a friend free as myself from the doting scruples which fetter our free-
born reason - rather with Saladin will we league ourselves, than endure the 
scorn of the bigots whom we contemn. - I will form new paths to greatness," 
he continued, again traversing the room with hasty strides - "Europe shall 
hear the loud step of him she has driven from her sons! - Not the millions 
whom her crusaders send to slaughter, can do so much to defend Palestine - 
not the sabres of the thousands and ten thousands of Saracens can hew their 
way so deep into that land for which nations are striving, as the strength 
and policy of me and those brethren, who, in despite of yonder old bigot, 
will adhere to me in good and evil. Thou shalt be a queen, Rebecca - on 
Mount Carmel shall we pitch the throne which my valour will gain for you, 
and I will exchange my long-desired batoon for a sceptre!"
"A dream," said Rebecca; "an empty vision of the night, which, were it a 
waking reality, affects me not. Enough, that the power which thou mightst 
acquire, I will never share; nor hold I so light of country or religious 
faith, as to esteem him who is willing to barter these ties, and cast away 
the bonds of the Order of which he is a sworn member, in order to gratify 
an unruly passion for the daughter of another people. - Put not a price on 
my deliverance, Sir Knight - sell not a deed of generosity - protect the 
oppressed for the sake of charity, and not for a selfish advantage - Go to 
the throne of England; Richard will listen to my appeal from these cruel 
men."
"Never, Rebecca!" said the Templar, fiercely. "If I renounce my Order, for 
thee alone will I renounce it - Ambition shall remain mine, if thou refuse 
my love; I will not be fooled on all hands. - Stoop my crest to Richard? - 
ask a boon of that heart of pride? - Never, Rebecca, will I place the Order 
of the Temple at his feet in my person. I may forsake the Order, I never 
will degrade or betray it."
"Now God be gracious to me," said Rebecca, "for the succour of man is 
wellnigh hopeless!"
"It is indeed," said the Templar; "for, proud as thou art, thou hast in me 
found thy match. If I enter the lists with my spear in rest, think not any 
human consideration shall prevent my putting forth my strength; and think 
then upon thine own fate - to die the dreadful death of the worst of 
criminals - to be consumed upon a blazing pile - dispersed to the elements 
of which our strange forms are so mystically composed - not a relic left of 
that graceful frame, from which we could say this lived and moved! - 
Rebecca, it is not in woman to sustain this prospect - thou wilt yield to 
my suit."
"Bois-Guilbert," answered the Jewess, "thou knowest not the heart of woman, 
or hast only conversed with those who are lost to her best feelings. I tell 
thee, proud Templar, that not in thy fiercest battles hast thou displayed 
more of thy vaunted courage, than has been shown by woman when called upon 
to suffer by affection or duty. I am myself a woman, tenderly nurtured, 
naturally fearful of danger, and impatient of pain - yet, when we enter 
those fatal lists, thou to fight and I to suffer, I feel the strong 
assurance within me, that my courage shall mount higher than thine. 
Farewell - I waste no more words on thee; the time that remains on earth to 
the daughter of Jacob must be otherwise spent - she must seek the 
Comforter, who may hide his face from his people, but who ever opens his 
ear to the cry of those who seek him in sincerity and in truth."
"We part then thus?" said the Templar, after a short pause; "would to 
Heaven that we had never met, or that thou hadst been noble in birth and 
Christian in faith! - Nay, by Heaven! when I gaze on thee, and think when 
and how we are next to meet, I could even wish myself one of thine own 
degraded nation; my hand conversant with ingots and shekels, instead of 
spear and shield; my head bent down before each petty noble, and my look 
only terrible to the shivering and bankrupt debtor - this could I wish, 
Rebecca, to be near to thee in life, and to escape the fearful share I must 
have in thy death."
"Thou hast spoken the Jew," said Rebecca, "as the persecution of such as 
thou art has made him. Heaven in ire has driven him from his country, but 
industry has opened to him the only road to power and to influence, which 
oppression has left unbarred. Read the ancient history of the people of 
God, and tell me if those, by whom Jehovah wrought such marvels among the 
nations, were then a people of misers and of usurers! - And know, proud 
knight, we number names amongst us to which your boasted northern nobility 
is as the gourd compared with the cedar - names that ascend far back to 
those high times when the Divine Presence shook the mercy-seat between the 
cherubim, and which derive their splendour from no earthly prince, but from 
the awful Voice, which bade their fathers be nearest of the congregation to 
the Vision - Such were the princes of the House of Jacob."
Rebecca's colour rose as she boasted the ancient glories of her race, but 
faded as she added, with at sigh, "Such were the princes of Judah, now such 
no more! - They are trampled down like the shorn grass, and mixed with the 
mire of the ways. Yet are there those among them who shame not such high 
descent, and of such shall be the daughter of Isaac the son of Adonikam! 
Farewell! - I envy not thy blood-won honours - I envy not thy barbarous 
descent from northern heathens - I envy thee not thy faith, which is ever 
in thy mouth, but never in thy heart nor in thy practice."
"There is a spell on me, by Heaven!" said Bois-Guilbert. "I almost think 
yon besotted skeleton spoke truth, and that the reluctance with which I 
part from thee hath something in it more than is natural. - Fair creature!" 
he said, approaching near her, but with great respect, - "so young, so 
beautiful, so fearless of death! and yet doomed to die, and with infamy and 
agony. Who would not weep for thee? - The tear, that has been a stranger to 
these eyelids for twenty years, moistens them as I gaze on thee. But it 
must be - nothing may now save thy life. Thou and I are but the blind 
instruments of some irresistible fatality, that hurries us along, like 
goodly vessels driving before the storm, which are dashed against each 
other, and so perish. Forgive me, then, and let us part at least as friends 
part. I have assailed thy resolution in vain, and mine own is fixed as the 
adamantine decrees of fate."
"Thus," said Rebecca, "do men throw on fate the issue of their own wild 
passions. But I do forgive thee, Bois-Guilbert, though the author of my 
early death. There are noble things which cross over thy powerful mind; but 
it is the garden of the sluggard, and the weeds have rushed up, and 
conspired to choke the fair and wholesome blossom."
"Yes," said the Templar, "I am, Rebecca, as thou hast spoken me, untaught, 
untamed - and proud, that, amidst a shoal of empty fools and crafty bigots, 
I have retained the pre-eminent fortitude that places me above them. I have 
been a child of battle from my youth upward, high in my views, steady and 
inflexible in pursuing them. Such must I remain - proud, inflexible, and 
unchanging; and of this the world shall have proof. - But thou forgivest 
me, Rebecca?"
"As freely as ever victim forgave her executioner."
"Farewell, then," said the Templar, and left the apartment.
The Preceptor Albert waited impatiently in an adjacent chamber the return 
of Bois-Guilbert.
"Thou hast tarried long," he said; "I have been as if stretched on red-hot 
iron with very impatience. What if the Grand Master, or his spy Conrade, 
had come hither? I had paid dear for my complaisance. - But what ails thee, 
brother? - Thy step totters, thy brow is as black as night. Art thou well, 
Bois-Guilbert?"
"Ay," answered the Templar, "as well as the wretch who is doomed to die 
within an hour. - Nay, by the rood, not half so well - for there be those 
in such state, who can lay down life like a cast-off garment. By Heaven, 
Malvoisin, yonder girl hath wellnigh unmanned me. I am half resolved to go 
to the Grand Master, abjure the Order to his very teeth, and refuse to act 
the brutality which his tyranny has imposed on me."
"Thou art mad," answered Malvoisin; "thou mayst thus indeed utterly ruin 
thyself, but canst not even find a chance thereby to save the life of this 
Jewess, which seems so precious in thine eyes. Beaumanoir will name another 
of the Order to defend his judgement in thy place, and the accused will as 
assuredly perish as if thou hadst taken the duty imposed on thee."
"'Tis false - I will myself take arms in her behalf," answered the Templar, 
haughtily; "and, should I do so, I think, Malvoisin, that thou knowest not 
one of the Order, who will keep his saddle before the point of my lance."
"Ay, but thou forgettest," said the wily adviser, "thou wilt have neither 
leisure nor opportunity to execute this mad project. Go to Lucas 
Beaumanoir, and say thou hast renounced thy vow of obedience, and see how 
long the despotic old man will leave thee in personal freedom. The words 
shall scarce have left thy lips, ere thou wilt either be an hundred feet 
under ground, in the dungeon of the Preceptory, to abide trial as a 
recreant knight; or, if his opinion holds concerning thy possession, thou 
wilt be enjoying straw, darkness, and chains, in some distant convent cell, 
stunned with exorcisms, and drenched with holy water, to expel the foul 
fiend which hath obtained dominion over thee. Thou must to the lists, 
Brian, or thou art a lost and dishonoured man."
"I will break forth and fly," said Bois-Guilbert - "fly to some distant 
land, to which folly and fanaticism have not yet found their way. No drop 
of the blood of this most excellent creature shall be spilled by my 
sanction."
"Thou canst not fly," said the Preceptor; "thy ravings have excited 
suspicion, and thou wilt not be permitted to leave the Preceptory. Go and 
make the essay - present thyself before the gate, and command the bridge to 
be lowered, and mark what answer thou shalt receive. - Thou are surprised 
and offended; but is it not the better for thee? Wert thou to fly, what 
would ensue but the reversal of thy arms, the dishonour of thine ancestry, 
the degradation of thy rank? - Think on it. Where shall thine old 
companions in arms hide their heads when Brian de Bois-Guilbert, the best 
lance of the Templars, is proclaimed recreant, amid the hisses of the 
assembled people? What grief will be at the Court of France! With what joy 
will the haughty Richard hear the news, that the knight that set him hard 
in Palestine, and well-nigh darkened his renown, has lost fame and honour 
for a Jewish girl, whom he could not even save by so costly a sacrifice!"
"Malvoisin," said the Knight, "I thank thee - thou hast touched the string 
at which my heart most readily thrills! - Come of it what may, recreant 
shall never be added to the name of Bois-Guilbert. Would to God, Richard, 
or any of his vaunting minions of England, would appear in these lists! But 
they will be empty - no one will risk to break a lance for the innocent, 
the forlorn."
"The better for thee, if it prove so," said the Preceptor; "if no champion 
appears, it is not by thy means that this unlucky damsel shall die, but by 
the doom of the Grand Master, with whom rests all the blame, and who will 
count that blame for praise and commendation."
"True," said Bois-Guilbert; "if no champion appears, I am but a part of the 
pageant, sitting indeed on horseback in the lists, but having no part in 
what is to follow."
"None whatever," said Malvoisin; "no more than the armed image of Saint 
George when it makes part of a procession."
"Well, I will resume my resolution," replied the haughty Templar. "She has 
despised me - repulsed me - reviled me - And wherefore should I offer up 
for her whatever of estimation I have in the opinion of others? Malvoisin, 
I will appear in the lists."
He left the apartment hastily as he uttered these words, and the Preceptor 
followed, to watch and confirm him in his resolution; for in Bois-
Guilbert's fame he had himself a strong interest, expecting much advantage 
from his being one day at the head of the Order, not to mention the 
preferment of which Mont-Fitchet had given him hopes, on condition he would 
forward the condemnation of the unfortunate Rebecca. Yet although, in 
combating his friend's better feelings, he possessed all the advantage 
which a wily, composed, selfish disposition has over a man agitated by 
strong and contending passions, it required all Malvoisin's art to keep 
Bois-Guilbert steady to the purpose he had prevailed on him to adopt. He 
was obliged to watch him closely to prevent his resuming his purpose of 
flight, to intercept his communication with the Grand Master, lest he 
should come to an open rupture with his Superior, and to renew, from time 
to time, the various arguments by which he endeavoured to show, that, in 
appearing as champion on this occasion, Bois-Guilbert, without either 
accelerating or ensuring the fate of Rebecca, would follow the only course 
by which be could save himself from degradation and disgrace.


Chapter 40.

			Shadows avaunt! - Richard's himself again.
								-- Richard III.


When the Black Knight - for it becomes necessary to resume the train of his 
adventures - left the Trysting-tree of the generous Outlaw, he held his way 
straight to a neighbouring religious house, of small extent and revenue, 
called the Priory of Saint Botolph, to which the wounded Ivanhoe had been 
removed when the castle was taken, under the guidance of the faithful 
Gurth, and the magnanimous Wamba. It is unnecessary at present to mention 
what took place in the interim betwixt Wilfred and his deliverer; suffice 
it to say, that after long and grave communication, messengers were 
dispatched by the Prior in several directions, and that on the succeeding 
morning the Black Knight was about to set forth on his journey, accompanied 
by the jester Wamba, who attended as his guide.
"We will meet," he said to Ivanhoe, "at Coningsburgh, the castle of the 
deceased Athelstane, since there thy father Cedric holds the funeral feast 
for his noble relation. I would see your Saxon kindred together, Sir 
Wilfred, and become better acquainted with them than heretofore. Thou also 
wilt meet me; and it shall be my task to reconcile thee to thy father."
So saying, he took an affectionate farewell of Ivanhoe, who expressed an 
anxious desire to attend upon his deliverer. But the Black Knight would not 
listen to the proposal.
"Rest this day; thou wilt have scarce strength enough to travel on the 
next. I will have no guide with me but honest Wamba, who can play priest or 
fool as I shall be most in the humour."
"And I," said Wamba, "will attend you with all my heart. I would fain see 
the feasting at the funeral of Athelstane; for, if it be not full and 
frequent, he will rise from the dead to rebuke cook, sewer, and cupbearer; 
and that were a sight worth seeing. Always, Sir Knight, I will trust your 
valour with making my excuse to my master Cedric, in case mine own wit 
should fail."
"And how should my poor valour succeed, Sir Jester, when thy light wit 
halts? - resolve me that."
"Wit, Sir Knight," replied the Jester, "may do much. He is a quick, 
apprehensive knave, who sees his neighbours blind side, and knows how to 
keep the lee-gage when his passions are blowing high. But valour is a 
sturdy fellow, that makes all split. He rows against both wind and tide, 
and makes way notwithstanding; and, therefore, good Sir Knight, while I 
take advantage of the fair weather in our noble master's temper, I will 
expect you to bestir yourself when it grows rough."
"Sir Knight of the Fetterlock, since it is your pleasure so to be 
distinguished," said Ivanhoe, "I fear me you have chosen a talkative and a 
troublesome fool to be your guide. But he knows every path and alley in the 
woods as well as e'er a hunter who frequents them; and the poor knave, as 
thou hast partly seen, is as faithful as steel."
"Nay," said the Knight, "an he have the gift of showing my road, I shall 
not grumble with him that he desires to make it pleasant. - Fare thee well, 
kind Wilfred - I charge thee not to attempt to travel till to-morrow at 
earliest."
So saying, he extended his hand to Ivanhoe, who pressed it to his lips, 
took leave of the Prior, mounted his horse, and departed, with Wamba for 
his companion. Ivanhoe followed them with his eyes, until they were lost in 
the shades of the surrounding forest, and then returned into the convent.
But shortly after matin-song, he requested to see the Prior. The old man 
came in haste, and enquired anxiously after the state of his health.
"It is better," he said, "than my fondest hope could have anticipated; 
either my wound has been slighter than the effusion of blood led me to 
suppose, or this balsam hath wrought a wonderful cure upon it. I feel 
already as if I could bear my corslet; and so much the better, for thoughts 
pass in my mind which render me unwilling to remain here longer in 
inactivity."
"Now, the saints forbid," said the Prior, "that the son of the Saxon Cedric 
should leave our convent ere his wounds were healed! It were shame to our 
profession were we to suffer it."
"Nor would I desire to leave your hospitable roof, venerable father," said 
Ivanhoe, "did I not feel myself able to endure the journey, and compelled 
to undertake it."
"And what can have urged you to so sudden a departure?" said the Prior.
"Have you never, holy father," answered the Knight, "felt an apprehension 
of approaching evil, for which you in vain attempted to assign a cause? - 
Have you never found your mind darkened, like the sunny landscape, by the 
sudden cloud, which augurs a coming tempest? - And thinkest thou not that 
such impulses are deserving of attention, as being the hints of our 
guardian spirits, that danger is impending?"
"I may not deny," said the Prior, crossing himself, "that such things have 
been, and have been of Heaven; but then such communications have had a 
visibly useful scope and tendency. But thou, wounded as thou art, what 
avails it thou shouldst follow the steps of him whom thou couldst not aid, 
were he to be assaulted?"
"Prior," said Ivanhoe, "thou dost mistake - I am stout enough to exchange 
buffets with any who will challenge me to such a traffic - But were it 
otherwise, may I not aid him were he in danger, by other means than by 
force of arms? It is but too well known that the Saxons love not the Norman 
race, and who knows what may be the issue, if he break in upon them when 
their hearts are irritated by the death of Athelstane, and their heads 
heated by the carousal in which they will indulge themselves? I hold his 
entrance among them at such a moment most perilous, and I am resolved to 
share or avert the danger; which, that I may the better do, I would crave 
of thee the use of some palfrey whose pace may be softer than that of my 
destrier."
"Surely," said the worthy churchman; "you shall have mine own ambling 
jennet, and I would it ambled as easy for your sake as that of the Abbot of 
Saint Albans. Yet this will I say for Malkin, for so I call her, that 
unless you were to borrow a ride on the juggler's steed that paces a 
hornpipe amongst the eggs, you could not go a journey on a creature so 
gentle and smooth-paced. I have composed many a homily on her back, to the 
edification of my brethren of the convent, and many poor Christian souls."
"I pray you, reverend father," said Ivanhoe, "let Malkin be got ready 
instantly, and bid Gurth attend me with mine arms."
"Nay, but fair sir," said the Prior, "I pray you to remember that Malkin 
hath as little skill in arms as her master, and that I warrant not her 
enduring the sight or weight of your full panoply. O, Malkin, I promise 
you, is a beast of judgement, and will contend against any undue weight - I 
did but borrow the Fructus Temporum from the priest of Saint Bees, and I 
promise you she would not stir from the gate until I had exchanged the huge 
volume for my little breviary."
"Trust me, holy father," said Ivanhoe, "I will not distress her with too 
much weight; and if she calls a combat with me, it is odds but she has the 
worst."
This reply was made while Gurth was buckling on the, Knight's heels a pair 
of large gilded spurs, capable of convincing any restive horse that his 
best safety lay in being conformable to the will of his rider.
The deep and sharp rowels with which Ivanhoe's. heels were now armed, began 
to make the worthy Prior repent of his courtesy, and ejaculate, - "Nay, but 
fair sir, now I bethink me, my Malkin abideth not the spur - Better it were 
that you tarry for the mare of our manciple down at the Grange, which may 
be had in little more than an hour, and cannot but be tractable, in respect 
that she draweth much of our winter fire-wood, and eateth no corn."
"I thank you, reverend father, but will abide by your first offer, as I see 
Malkin is already led forth to the gate. Gurth shall carry mine armour; and 
for the rest, rely on it, that as I will not overload Malkin's back, she 
shall not overcome my patience. And now, farewell!"
Ivanhoe now descended the stairs more hastily and easily than his wound 
promised, and threw himself upon the jennet, eager to escape the 
importunity of the Prior, who stuck as closely to his side as his age and 
fatness would permit, now singing the praises of Malkin, now recommending 
caution to the Knight in managing her.
"She is at the most dangerous period for maidens as well as mares," said 
the old man, laughing at his own jest, "being barely in her fifteenth 
year."
Ivanhoe, who had other web to weave than to stand canvassing a palfrey's 
paces with its owner, lent but a deaf ear to the Prior's grave advices and 
facetious jests, and having leapt on his mare, and commanded his squire 
(for such Gurth now called himself) to keep close by his side, he followed 
the track of the Black Knight into the forest, while the Prior stood at the 
gate of the convent looking after him, and ejaculating, - "Saint Mary! how 
prompt and fiery be these men of war! I would I had not trusted Malkin to 
his keeping, for, crippled as I am with the cold rheum, I am undone if 
aught but good befalls her. And yet," said he, recollecting himself, "as I 
would not spare my own old and disabled limbs in the good cause of Old 
England, so Malkin must e'en run her hazard on the same venture; and it may 
be they will think our poor house worthy of some munificent guerdon - or, 
it may be, they will send the old Prior a pacing nag. And if they do none 
of these, as great men will forget little men's service, truly I shall hold 
me well repaid in having done that which is right. And it is now wellnigh 
the fitting time to summon the brethren to breakfast in the refectory - Ah! 
I doubt they obey that call more cheerily than the bells for primes and 
matins."
So the Prior of Saint Botolph's hobbled back again into the refectory, to 
preside over the stockfish and ale, which was just serving out for the 
friars' breakfast. Pursy and important, he sat him down at the table, and 
many a dark word he threw out, of benefits to be expected to the convent, 
and high deeds of service done by himself, which, at another season, would 
have attracted observation. But as the stockfish was highly salted, and the 
ale reasonably powerful, the jaws of the brethren were too anxiously 
employed to admit of their making much use of their ears; nor do we read of 
any of the fraternity, who was tempted to speculate upon the mysterious 
hints of their Superior, except Father Diggory, who was severely afflicted 
by the toothache, so that be could only eat on one side of his jaws.
In the meantime, the Black Champion and his guide were pacing at their 
leisure through the recesses of the forest; the good Knight whiles humming 
to himself the lay of some enamoured troubadour, sometimes encouraging by 
questions the prating disposition of his attendant, so that their dialogue 
formed a whimsical mixture of song and jest, of which we would fain give 
our readers some idea. You are then to imagine this Knight, such as we have 
already described him, strong of person, tall, broad-shouldered, and large 
of bone, mounted on his mighty black charger, which seemed made on purpose 
to bear his weight, so easily he paced forward under it, having the visor 
of his helmet raised, in order to admit freedom of breath, yet keeping the 
beaver, or under part, closed, so that his features could be but 
imperfectly distinguished. But his ruddy embrowned cheek-bones could be 
plainly seen, and the large and bright blue eyes, that flashed from under 
the dark shade of the raised visor; and the whole gesture and look of the 
champion expressed careless gaiety and fearless confidence - a mind which 
was unapt to apprehend danger, and prompt to defy it when most imminent - 
yet with whom danger was a familiar thought, as with one whose trade was 
war and adventure.
The Jester wore his usual fantastic habit, but late accidents had led him 
to adopt a good cutting falchion, instead of his wooden sword, with a targe 
to match it; of both which weapons he had, notwithstanding his profession, 
shown himself a skilful master during the storming of Torquilstone. Indeed, 
the infirmity of Wamba's brain consisted chiefly in a kind of impatient 
irritability, which suffered him not long to remain quiet in any posture, 
or adhere to any certain train of ideas, although he was for a few minutes 
alert enough in performing any immediate task, or in apprehending any 
immediate topic. On horseback, therefore, he was perpetually swinging 
himself backwards and forwards, now on the horse's ears, then anon on the 
very rump of the animal, - now hanging both his legs on one side, and now 
sitting with his face to the tail, moping, mowing, and making a thousand 
apish gestures, until his palfrey took his freaks so much to heart, as 
fairly to lay him at his length on the green grass - an incident which 
greatly amused the Knight, but compelled his companion to ride more 
steadily thereafter.
At the point of their journey at which we take them up, this joyous pair 
were engaged in singing a virelai, as it was called, in which the clown 
bore a mellow burden, to the better instructed Knight of the Fetterlock. 
And thus run the ditty: -

	Anna-Marie, love, up is the sun,
	Anna-Marie, love, morn is begun,
	Mists are dispersing, love, birds singing free,
	Up in the morning, love, Anna-Marie.
	Anna-Marie, love, up in the morn,
	The hunter is winding blithe sounds on his horn,
	The echo rings merry from rock and from tree,
	'Tis time to arouse thee, love, Anna-Marie.

Wamba.
	O Tybalt, love, Tybalt, awake me not yet,
	Around my soft pillow while softer dreams flit,
	For what are the joys that in waking we prove,
	Compared with these visions, O, Tybalt, my love?
	Let the birds to the rise of the mist carol shrill,
	Let the hunter blow out his load horn on the hill,
	Softer sounds, softer pleasures, in slumber I prove, -
	But think not I dreamt of thee, Tybalt, my love.

"A dainty song," said Wamba, when they had finished their carol, "and I 
swear by my bauble, a pretty moral! - I used to sing it with Gurth, once my 
playfellow, and now, by the grace of God and his master, no less than a 
freemen; and we once came by the cudgel for being so entranced by the 
melody, that we lay in bed two hours after sunrise, singing the ditty 
betwixt sleeping and waking - my bones ache at thinking of the tune ever 
since. Nevertheless, I have played the part of Anna-Marie, to please you, 
fair sir."
The Jester next struck into another carol, a sort of comic ditty, to which 
the Knight, catching up the tune, replied in the like manner.

Knight and Wamba.
	There came three merry men from south, west, and north,
		Ever more sing the roundelay;
	To win the Widow of Wycombe forth,
		And where was the widow might say them nay?

	The first was a knight, and from Tynedale he came,
		Ever more sing the roundelay;
	And his fathers, God save us, were men of great fame,
		And where was the widow might say him nay?

	Of his father the laird, of his uncle the squire,
		He boasted in rhyme and in roundelay;
	She bade him go bask by his sea-coal fire,
		For she was the widow would say him nay.

Wamba
	The next that came forth, swore by blood and by nails,
		Merrily sing the roundelay;
	Hur's a gentleman, God wot, and hur's lineage was of Wales,
		And where wall the widow might say him nay?

	Sir David ap Morgan ap Griffith ap Hugh
		Ap Tudor ap Rhice, quoth his roundelay
	She said that one widow for so many was too few,
		And she bade the Welshman wend his way.

	But then next came a yeoman, a yeoman of Kent,
		Jollily singing his roundelay;
	He spoke to the widow of living and rent,
		And where was the widow could say him nay?

Both
	So the knight and the squire were both left in the mire,
		There for to sing their roundelay;
	For a yeoman of Kent, with his yearly rent,
		There never was a widow could say him nay.

"I would, Wamba," said the knight, "that our host of the Trysting-tree, or 
the jolly Friar, his chaplain, heard this thy ditty in praise of our bluff 
yeoman."
"So would not I," said Wamba - "but for the horn that hangs at your 
baldric."
"Ay," said the Knight, - "this is a pledge of Locksley's good-will, though 
I am not like to need it. Three mots on this bugle will, I am assured, 
bring round, at our need, a jolly band of yonder honest yeomen."
"I would say, Heaven forefend," said the Jester, "were it not that that 
fair gift is a pledge they would let us pass peaceably."
"Why, what meanest thou?" said the Knight; "thinkest thou that but for this 
pledge of fellowship they would assault us?"
"Nay, for me I say nothing," said Wamba; "for green trees have ears as well 
as stone walls. But canst thou construe me this, Sir Knight - When is thy 
wine-pitcher and thy purse better empty than full?"
"Why, never, I think," replied the Knight.
"Thou never deservest to have a full one in thy hand, for so simple an 
answer! Thou hadst best empty thy pitcher ere thou pass it to a Saxon, and 
leave thy money at home ere thou walk in the greenwood."
"You hold our friends for robbers, then?" said the Knight of the 
Fetterlock.
"You hear me not say so, fair sir," said Wamba; "it may relieve a man's 
steed to take of his mail when he hath a long journey to make; and, certes, 
it may do good to the rider's soul to ease him of that which is the root of 
evil; therefore will I give no hard names to those who do such services. 
Only I would wish my mail at home, and my purse in my chamber, when I meet 
with these good fellows, because it might save them some trouble."
"We are bound to pray for them, my friend, notwithstanding the fair 
character thou dost afford them."
"Pray for them with all my heart," said Wamba; "but in the town, not in the 
greenwood, like the Abbot of Saint Bees, whom they caused to say mass with 
an old hollow oak-tree for his stall."
"Say as thou list, Wamba," replied the Knight, "these yeomen did thy master 
Cedric yeomanly service at Torquilstone."
"Ay, truly," answered Wamba; "but that was in the fashion of their trade 
with Heaven."
"Their trade, Wamba! how mean you by that?" replied his companion.
"Marry, thus," said the Jester. "They make up a balanced account with 
Heaven, as our old cellarer used to call his ciphering, as fair as Isaac 
the Jew keeps with his debtors, and, like him, give out a very little, and 
take large credit for doing so; reckoning, doubtless, on their own behalf 
the seven-fold usury which the blessed text hath promised to charitable 
loans."
"Give me an example of your meaning, Wamba, - I know nothing of ciphers or 
rates of usage," answered the Knight.
"Why," said Wamba, "an your valour be so dull, you will please to learn 
that those honest fellows balance a good deed with one not quite so 
laudable; as a crown given to a begging friar with an hundred byzants taken 
from a fat abbot, or a wench kissed in the greenwood with the relief of a 
poor widow."
"Which of these was the good deed, which was the felony?" interrupted the 
Knight.
"A good gibe! a good gibe!" said Wamba; "keeping witty company sharpeneth 
the apprehension. You said nothing so well, Sir Knight, I will be sworn, 
when you held drunken vespers with the bluff Hermit. - But to go on. The 
merry-men of the forest set off the building of a cottage with the burning 
of a castle, - the thatching of a choir against the robbing of a church, - 
the setting free a poor prisoner against the murder of a proud sheriff; or, 
to come nearer to our point, the deliverance of a Saxon franklin against 
the burning alive of a Norman baron. Gentle thieves they are, in short, and 
courteous robbers; but it is ever the luckiest to meet with them when they 
are at the worst."
"How so, Wamba?" said the Knight.
"Why, then they have some compunction, and are for making up matters with 
Heaven. But when they have struck an even balance, Heaven help them with 
whom they next open the account! The travellers who first met them after 
their good service at Torquilstone would have a woeful flaying. - And yet," 
said Wamba, coming close up to the Knight's side, "there be companions who 
are far more dangerous for travellers to meet than yonder outlaws."
"And who may they be, for you have neither bears nor wolves, I trow?" said 
the Knight.
"Marry, sir, but we have Malvoisin's men-at-arms," said Wamba; "and let me 
tell you, that, in time of civil war, a halfscore of these is worth a band 
of wolves at any time. They are now expecting their harvest, and are 
reinforced with the soldiers that escaped from Torquilstone. So that, 
should we meet with a band of them, we are like to pay for our feats of 
arms. - Now, I pray you, Sir Knight, what would you do if we met two of 
them?"
"Pin the villains to the earth with my lance, Wamba, if they offered us any 
impediment."
"But what if there were four of them?"
"They should drink of the same cup," answered the Knight.
"What if six," continued Wamba, "and we as we now are, barely two - would 
you not remember Locksley's horn?"
"What! sound for aid," exclaimed the Knight, "against a score of such 
rascaille as these, whom one good knight could drive before him, as the 
wind drives the withered leaves?"
"Nay, then," said Wamba, "I will pray you for a close sight of that same 
horn that hath so powerful a breath."
The Knight undid the clasp of the baldric, and indulged his fellow-
traveller, who immediately hung the bugle round his own neck.
"Tra-lira-la," said he, whistling the notes; "nay, I know my gamut as well 
as another."
"How mean you, knave?" said the Knight; "restore me the bugle."
"Content you, Sir Knight, it is in safe keeping. When Valour and Folly 
travel, Folly should bear the horn, because she can blow the best."
"Nay but, rogue," said the Black Knight, "this exceedeth thy license - 
Beware ye tamper not with my patience."
"Urge me not with violence, Sir Knight," said the Jester, keeping at a 
distance from the impatient champion, "or Folly will show a clean pair of 
heels, and leave Valour to find out his way through the wood as best he 
may."
"Nay, thou hast hit me there," said the Knight; "and, sooth to say, I have 
little time to jangle with thee. Keep the horn an thou wilt, but let us 
proceed on our journey."
"You will not harm me, then?" said Wamba.
"I tell thee no, thou knave!"
"Ay, but pledge me your knightly word for it," continued Wamba, as he 
approached with great caution.
"My knightly word I pledge; only come on with thy foolish self."
"Nay, then, Valour and Folly are once more boon companions," said the 
Jester, coming up frankly to the Knight's side; "but, in truth, I love not 
such buffets as that you bestowed on the burly Friar, when his holiness 
rolled on the green like a king of the nine-pins. And now that Folly wears 
the horn, let Valour rouse himself, and shake his mane; for, if I mistake 
not, there are company in yonder brake that are on the look-out for us."
"What makes thee judge so?" said the Knight.
"Because I have twice or thrice noticed the glance of a motion from amongst 
the green leaves. Had they been honest men, they had kept the path. But 
yonder thicket is a choice chapel for the Clerks of Saint Nicholas."
"By my faith," said the Knight, closing his visor, "I think thou best in 
the right on't."
And in good time did he close it, for three arrows, flew at the same 
instant from the suspected spot against his head and breast, one of which 
would have penetrated to the brain, had it not been turned aside by the 
steel visor. The other two were averted by the gorget, and by the shield 
which hung around his neck.
"Thanks, trusty armourers," said the Knight. - "Wamba, let us close with 
them," - and he rode straight to the thicket. He was met by six or seven 
men-at-arms, who ran against him with their lances at full career. Three of 
the weapons struck against him, and splintered with as little effect as if 
they had been driven against a tower of steel. The Black Knight's eyes 
seemed to flash fire even through the aperture of his visor. He raised 
himself in his stirrups with an air of inexpressible dignity, and 
exclaimed, "What means this, my masters!" - The men made no other reply 
than by drawing their swords and attacking him on every side, crying, "Die, 
tyrant!"
"Ha! Saint Edward! Ha! Saint George!" said the Black Knight, striking down 
a man at every invocation; "have we traitors here?"
His opponents, desperate as they were, bore back from an arm which carried 
death in every blow, and it seemed as if the terror of his single strength 
was about to gain the battle against such odds, when a knight, in blue 
armour, who had hitherto kept himself behind the other assailants, spurred 
forward with his lance, and taking aim, not at the rider but at the steed, 
wounded the noble animal mortally.
"That was a felon stroke!" exclaimed the Black Knight, as the steed fell to 
the earth, bearing his rider along with him.
And at this moment, Wamba winded the bugle, for the whole had passed so 
speedily, that he had not time to do so sooner. The sudden sound made the 
murderers bear back once more, and Wamba, though so imperfectly weaponed, 
did not hesitate to rush in and assist the Black Knight to rise.
"Shame on ye, false cowards!" exclaimed he in the blue harness, who seemed 
to lead the assailants, "do ye fly from the empty blast of a horn blown by 
a Jester?"
Animated by his words, they attacked the Black Knight anew, whose best 
refuge was now to place his back against an oak, and defend himself with 
his sword. The felon knight, who had taken another spear, watching the 
moment when his formidable antagonist was most closely pressed, galloped 
against him in hopes to nail him with his lance against the tree, when his 
purpose was again intercepted by Wamba. The Jester, making up by agility 
the want of strength, and little noticed by the men-at-arms, who were 
busied in their more important object, hovered on the skirts of the fight, 
and effectually checked the fatal career of the Blue Knight, by 
hamstringing his horse with a stroke of his sword. Horse and man went to 
the ground; yet the situation of the Knight of the Fetterlock continued 
very precarious, as he was pressed close by several men completely armed, 
and began to be fatigued by the violent exertions necessary to defend 
himself on so many points at nearly the same moment, when a grey-goose 
shaft suddenly stretched on the earth one of the most formidable of his 
assailants, and a band of yeomen broke forth from the glade, headed by 
Locksley and the jovial Friar, who, taking ready and effectual part in the 
fray, soon disposed of the ruffians, all of whom lay on the spot dead or 
mortally wounded. The Black Knight thanked his deliverers with a dignity 
they had not observed in his former bearing, which hitherto had seemed 
rather that of a blunt bold soldier, than of a person of exalted rank.
"It concerns me much," he said, "even before I express my full gratitude to 
my ready friends, to discover, if I may, who have been my unprovoked 
enemies. - Open the visor of that Blue Knight, Wamba, who seems the chief 
of these villains."
The Jester instantly made up to the leader of the assassins, who, bruised 
by his fall, and entangled under the wounded steed, lay incapable either of 
flight or resistance.
"Come, valiant sir," said Wamba, "I must be your armourer as well as your 
equerry - I have dismounted you, and now I will unhelm you."
So saying, with no very gentle hand he undid the helmet of the Blue Knight, 
which, rolling to a distance on the grass, displayed to the Knight of the 
Fetterlock grizzled locks, and a countenance he did not expect to have seen 
under such circumstances.
"Waldemar Fitzurse!" he said in astonishment; "what could urge one of thy 
rank and seeming worth to so foul an undertaking? "
"Richard," said the captive Knight, looking up to him, "thou knowest little 
of mankind, if thou knowest not to what ambition and revenge can lead every 
child of Adam."
"Revenge?" answered the Black Knight; "I never wronged thee - On me thou 
hast nought to revenge."
"My daughter, Richard, whose alliance thou didst scorn - was that no injury 
to a Norman, whose blood is noble as thine own?"
"Thy daughter?" replied the Black Knight; "a proper cause of enmity, and 
followed up to a bloody issue! - Stand back, my masters, I would speak to 
him alone. - And now, Waldemar Fitzurse, say me the truth - confess who set 
thee on this traitorous deed."
"Thy father's son," answered Waldemar, "who, in so doing, did but avenge on 
thee thy disobedience to thy father."
Richard's eyes sparkled with indignation, but his better nature overcame 
it. He pressed his hand against his brow, and remained an instant gazing on 
the face of the humbled baron, in whose features pride was contending with 
shame.
"Thou dost not ask thy life, Waldemar," said the King.
"He that is in the lion's clutch," answered Fitzurse, "knows it were 
needless."
"Take it, then, unasked," said Richard; "the lion preys not on prostrate 
carcasses. - Take thy life, but with this condition, that in three days 
thou shalt leave England, and go to hide thine infamy in thy Norman castle, 
and that thou wilt never mention the name of John of Anjou as connected 
with thy felony. If thou art found on English ground after the space I have 
allotted thee, thou diest - or if thou breathest aught that can attaint the 
honour of my house, by Saint George! not the altar itself shall be a 
sanctuary. I will hang thee out to feed the ravens, from the very pinnacle 
of thine own castle. - Let this knight have a steed, Locksley, for I see 
your yeomen have caught those which were running loose, and let him depart 
unharmed."
"But that I judge I listen to a voice whose behests must not be disputed," 
answered the yeoman, "I would send a shaft after the skulking villain that 
should spare him the labour of a long journey."
"Thou bearest an English heart, Locksley," said the Black Knight, "and well 
dost judge thou art the more bound to obey my behest - I am Richard of 
England!"
At these words, pronounced in a tone of majesty suited to the high rank, 
and no less distinguished character of Coeur-de-Lion, the yeomen at once 
kneeled down before him, and at the same time tendered their allegiance, 
and implored pardon for their offences.
"Rise, my friends," said Richard, in a gracious tone, looking on them with 
a countenance in which his habitual good-humour had already conquered the 
blaze of hasty resentment, and whose features retained no mark of the late 
desperate conflict, excepting the flush arising from exertion, - "Arise," 
he said, "my friends! - Your misdemeanours, whether in forest or field, 
have been atoned by the loyal services you rendered my distressed subjects 
before the walls of Torquilstone, and the rescue you have this day afforded 
to your sovereign. Arise, my liegemen, and be good subjects in future. - 
And thou, brave Locksley - "
"Call me no longer Locksley, my Liege, but know me under the name, which, I 
fear, fame hath blown too widely not to have reached even your royal ears - 
I am Robin Hood of Sherwood Forest."
"King of Outlaws, and Prince of good fellows!" said the King, "who hath not 
heard a name that has been borne as far as Palestine? But be assured, brave 
Outlaw, that no deed done in our absence, and in the turbulent times to 
which it hath given rise, shall be remembered to thy disadvantage."
"True says the proverb," said Wamba, interposing his word, but with some 
abatement of his usual petulance, -

		'When the cat is away,
		The mice will play.' "

"What, Wamba, art thou there?" said Richard; "I have been so long of 
hearing thy voice, I thought thou hadst taken flight."
"I take flight!" said Wamba; "when do you ever find Folly separated from 
Valour? There lies the trophy of my sword, that good grey gelding, whom I 
heartily wish upon his legs again, conditioning his master lay there 
houghed in his place. It is true, I gave a little ground at first, for a 
motley jacket does not brook lance-heads, as a steel doublet will. But if I 
fought not at sword's point, you will grant me that I sounded the onset."
"And to good purpose, honest Wamba," replied the King. "Thy good service 
shall not be forgotten."
"Confiteor! Confiteor!" - exclaimed, in a submissive tone, a voice near the 
King's side - "my Latin will carry me no farther - but I confess my deadly 
treason, and pray leave to have absolution before I am led to execution!"
Richard looked around, and beheld the jovial Friar on his knees, telling 
his rosary, while his quarter-staff, which had not been idle during the 
skirmish, lay on the grass beside him. His countenance was gathered so as 
be thought might best express the most profound contrition, his eyes being 
turned up, and the corners of his mouth drawn down, as Wamba expressed it, 
like the tassels at the mouth of a purse. Yet this demure affectation of 
extreme penitence was whimsically belied by a ludicrous meaning which 
lurked in his huge features, and seemed to pronounce his fear and 
repentance alike hypocritical.
"For what art thou cast down, mad Priest?" said Richard; "art thou afraid 
thy diocesan should learn how truly thou dost serve Our Lady and Saint 
Dunstan? - Tush, man! fear it not; Richard of England betrays no secrets 
that pass over the flagon."
"Nay, most gracious sovereign," answered the Hermit, (well known to the 
curious in penny-histories of Robin Hood, by the name of Friar Tuck,) "it 
is not the crosier I fear, but the sceptre. - Alas! that my sacrilegious 
fist should ever have been applied to the ear of the Lord's anointed!"
"Ha! ha!" said Richard, "sits the wind there? - In truth I had forgotten 
the buffet, though mine ear sung after it for a whole day. But if the cuff 
was fairly given, I will be judged by the good men around, if it was not as 
well repaid - or, if thou thinkest I still owe thee aught, and will stand 
forth for another counterbuff - "
"By no means," replied Friar Tuck, "I had mine own returned, and with usury 
- may your Majesty ever pay your debts as fully!"
"If I could do so with cuffs," said the King, "my creditors should have 
little reason to complain of an empty exchequer."
"And yet," said the Friar, resuming his demure hypocritical countenance, "I 
know not what penance I ought to perform for that most sacrilegious blow! - 
"
"Speak no more of it, brother," said the King; "after having stood so many 
cuffs from Paynims and misbelievers, I were void of reason to quarrel with 
the buffet of a clerk so holy as he of Copmanhurst. Yet, mine honest Friar, 
I think it would be best both for the church and thyself, that I should 
procure a license to unfrock thee, and retain thee as a yeoman of our 
guard, serving in care of our person, as formerly in attendance upon the 
altar of Saint Dunstan."
"My Liege," said the Friar, "I humbly crave your pardon; and you would 
readily grant my excuse, did you but know how the sin of laziness has beset 
me. Saint Dunstan - may he be gracious to us! - stands quiet in his niche, 
though I should forget my orisons in killing a fat buck - I stay out of my 
cell sometimes a night, doing I wot not what - Saint Dunstan never 
complains - a quiet master he is, and a peaceful, as ever was made of wood. 
- But to be a yeoman in attendance on my sovereign the King - the honour is 
great, doubtless - yet, if I were but to step aside to comfort a widow in 
one corner, or to kill a deer in another, it would be, 'where is the dog 
Priest?' says one. 'Who has seen the accursed Tuck?' says another. 'The 
unfrocked villain destroys more venison than half the country besides,' 
says one keeper; 'And is hunting after every shy doe in the country!' quoth 
a second. - In fine, good my Liege, I pray you to leave me as you found me; 
or, if in aught you desire to extend your benevolence to me, that I may be 
considered as the poor Clerk of Saint Dunstan's cell in Copmanhurst, to 
whom any small donation will be most thankfully acceptable."
"I understand thee," said the King, "and the Holy Clerk shall have a grant 
of vert and venison in my woods of Warncliffe. Mark, however, I will but 
assign thee three bucks every season; but if that do not prove an apology 
for thy slaying thirty, I am no Christian knight nor true king."
"Your Grace may be well assured," said the Friar, "that, with the grace of 
Saint Dunstan, I shall find the way of multiplying your most bounteous 
gift."
"I nothing doubt it, good brother," said the King; "and as venison is but 
dry food, our cellarer shall have orders to deliver to thee a butt of sack, 
a runlet of Malvoisie, and three hogsheads of ale of the first strike, 
yearly - If that will not quench thy thirst, thou must come to court, and 
become acquainted with my butler."
"But for Saint Dunstan?" said the Friar -
"A cope, a stole, and an altar-cloth shalt thou also have," continued the 
King, crossing himself - "But we may not turn our game into earnest, lest 
God punish us for thinking more on our follies than on his honour and 
worship."
"I will answer for my patron," said the Priest, joyously.
"Answer for thyself, Friar," said King Richard, something sternly; but 
immediately stretching out his hand to the Hermit, the latter, somewhat 
abashed, bent his knee, and saluted it. "Thou dost less honour to my 
extended palm than to my clenched fist," said the Monarch; "thou didst only 
kneel to the one, and to the other didst prostrate thyself."
But the Friar, afraid perhaps of again giving offence by continuing the 
conversation in too jocose a style - a false step to be particularly 
guarded against by those who converse with monarchs - bowed profoundly, and 
fell into the rear.
At the same time, two additional personages appeared on the scene.


Chapter 41

			All hail to the lordlings of high degree,
			Who live not more happy, though greater than we!
			Our pastimes to see,
			Under every green tree,
			In all the gay woodland, right welcome ye be.
								-- Macdonald.


The new comers were Wilfred of Ivanhoe, on the Prior of Botolph's palfrey, 
and Gurth, who attended him, on the Knight's own war-horse. The 
astonishment of Ivanhoe was beyond bounds, when he saw his master 
besprinkled with blood, and six or seven dead bodies lying around in the 
little glade in which the battle had taken place. Nor was he less surprised 
to see Richard surrounded by so many silvan attendants, the outlaws, as 
they seemed to be, of the forest, and a perilous retinue therefore for a 
prince. He hesitated whether to address the King as the Black Knight-
errant, or in what other manner to demean himself towards him. Richard saw 
his embarrassment.
"Fear not, Wilfred," he said, "to address Richard Plantagenet as himself, 
since thou seest him in the company of true English hearts, although it may 
be they have been urged a few steps aside by warm English blood."
"Sir Wilfred of Ivanhoe," said the gallant Outlaw, stepping forward, "my 
assurances can add nothing to those of our sovereign; yet, let me say 
somewhat proudly, that of men who have suffered much, he hath not truer 
subjects than those who now stand around him."
"I cannot doubt it, brave man," said Wilfred, "since thou art of the number 
- But what mean these marks of death and danger? these slain men, and the 
bloody armour of my Prince?"
"Treason hath been with us, Ivanhoe," said the King; "but, thanks to these 
brave men, treason hath met its meed - But, now I bethink me, thou too art 
a traitor," said Richard, smiling; "a most disobedient traitor; for were 
not our orders positive, that thou shouldst repose thyself at Saint 
Botolph's until thy wound was healed?"
"It is healed," said Ivanhoe; "it is not of more consequence than the 
scratch of a bodkin. But why, oh why, noble Prince, will you thus vex the 
hearts of your faithful servants, and expose your life by lonely journeys 
and rash adventures, as if it were of no more value than that of a mere 
knight-errant, who has no interest on earth but what lance and sword may 
procure him?"
"And Richard Plantagenet," said the King, "desires no more fame than his 
good lance and sword may acquire him - and Richard Plantagenet is prouder 
of achieving an adventure, with only his good sword, and his good arm to 
speed, than if he led to battle an host of an hundred thousand armed men."
"But your kingdom, my Liege," said Ivanhoe, "your kingdom is threatened 
with dissolution and civil war - your subjects menaced with every species 
of evil, if deprived of their sovereign in some of those dangers which it 
is your daily pleasure to incur, and from which you have but this moment 
narrowly escaped."
"Ho! ho! my kingdom and my subjects?" answered Richard, impatiently; "I 
tell thee, Sir Wilfred, the best of them are most willing to repay my 
follies in kind - For example, my very faithful servant, Wilfred of 
Ivanhoe, will not obey my positive commands, and yet reads his king a 
homily, because he does not walk exactly by his advice. Which of us has 
most reason to upbraid the other? - Yet forgive me, my faithful Wilfred. 
The time I have spent, and am yet to spend in concealment, is, as I 
explained to thee at Saint Botolph's, necessary to give my friends and 
faithful nobles time to assemble their forces, that when Richard's return 
is announced, he should be at the head of such a force as enemies shall 
tremble to face, and thus subdue the meditated treason, without even 
unsheathing a sword. Estoteville and Bohun will not be strong enough to 
move forward to York for twenty-four hours. I must have news of Salisbury 
from the south; and of Beauchamp, in Warwickshire; and of Multon and Percy 
in the north. The Chancellor must make sure of London. Too sudden an 
appearance would subject me to dangers, other than my lance and sword, 
though backed by the bow of bold Robin, or the quarter-staff of Friar Tuck, 
and the horn of the sage Wamba, may be able to rescue me from."
Wilfred bowed in submission, well knowing how vain it was to contend with 
the wild spirit of chivalry which so often impelled his master upon dangers 
which he might easily have avoided, or rather, which it was unpardonable in 
him to have sought out. The young knight sighed, therefore, and held his 
peace; while Richard, rejoiced at having silenced his counsellor, though 
his heart acknowledged the justice of the charge he had brought against 
him, went on in conversation with Robin Hood. - "King of Outlaws," he said, 
"have you no refreshment to offer to your brother sovereign? for these dead 
knaves have found me both in exercise and appetite."
"In troth," replied the Outlaw, "for I scorn to lie to your Grace, our 
larder is chiefly supplied with - " He stopped, and was somewhat 
embarrassed.
"With venison, I suppose?" said Richard, gaily; "better food at need there 
can be none - and truly, if a king will not remain at home and slay his own 
game, methinks he should not brawl too loud if he finds it killed to his 
hand."
"If your Grace, then," said Robin, "will again honour with your presence 
one of Robin Hood's places of rendezvous, the venison shall not be lacking; 
and a stoup of ale, and it may be a cup of reasonably good wine, to relish 
it withal."
The Outlaw accordingly led the way, followed by the buxom Monarch, more 
happy, probably, in this chance meeting with Robin Hood and his foresters, 
than he would have been in again assuming his royal state, and presiding 
over a splendid circle of peers and nobles. Novelty in society and 
adventure were the zest of life to Richard Coeur-de-Lion, and it had its 
highest relish when enhanced by dangers encountered and surmounted. In the 
lion-hearted King, the brilliant, but useless character, of a knight of 
romance, was in a great measure realised and revived; and the personal 
glory which he acquired by his own deeds of arms, was far more dear to his 
excited imagination, than that which a course of policy and wisdom would 
have spread around his government. Accordingly, his reign was like the 
course of a brilliant and rapid meteor, which shoots along the face of 
Heaven, shedding around an unnecessary and portentous light, which is 
instantly swallowed up by universal darkness; his feats of chivalry 
furnishing themes for bards and minstrels, but affording none of those 
solid benefits to his country on which history loves to pause, and hold up 
as an example to posterity. But in his present company Richard showed to 
the greatest imaginable advantage. He was gay, good-humoured, and fond of 
manhood in every rank of life.
Beneath a huge oak-tree the silvan repast was hastily prepared for the King 
of England, surrounded by men outlaws to his government, but who now formed 
his court and his guard. As the flagon went round, the rough foresters soon 
lost their awe for the presence of Majesty. The song and the jest were 
exchanged - the stories of former deeds were told with advantage; and at 
length, and while boasting of their successful infraction of the laws, no 
one recollected they were speaking in presence of their natural guardian. 
The merry King, nothing heeding his dignity any more than his company, 
laughed, quaffed, and jested among the jolly band. The natural and rough 
sense of Robin Hood led him to be desirous that the scene should be closed 
ere any thing should occur to disturb its harmony, the more especially that 
he observed Ivanhoe's brow clouded with anxiety. "We are honoured," he said 
to Ivanhoe, apart, "by the presence of our gallant Sovereign; yet I would 
not that he dallied with time, which the circumstances of his kingdom may 
render precious."
"It is well and wisely spoken, brave Robin Hood," said Wilfred, apart; "and 
know, moreover, that they who jest with Majesty even in its gayest mood are 
but toying with the lion's whelp, which, on slight provocation, uses both 
fangs and claws."
"You have touched the very cause of my fear," said the Outlaw; "my men are 
rough by practice and nature, the King is hasty as well as good-humoured; 
nor know I how soon cause of offence may arise, or how warmly it may be 
received - it is time this revel were broken off."
"It must be by your management then, gallant yeoman," said Ivanhoe; "for 
each hint I have essayed to give him serves only to induce him to prolong 
it."
"Must I so soon risk the pardon and favour of my Sovereign?" said Robin 
Hood, pausing for all instant; "but by Saint Christopher, it shall be so. I 
were undeserving his grace did I not peril it for his good. - Here, 
Scathlock, get thee behind yonder thicket, and wind me a Norman blast on 
thy bugle, and without an instant's delay on peril of your life."
Scathlock obeyed his captain, and in less than five minutes the revellers 
were startled by the sound of his horn.
"It is the bugle of Malvoisin," said the Miller, starting to his feet, and 
seizing his bow. The Friar dropped the flagon, and grasped his quarter-
staff Wamba stopped short in the midst of a jest, and betook himself to 
sword and target. All the others stood to their weapons.
Men of their precarious course of life change readily from the banquet to 
the battle; and, to Richard, the exchange seemed but a succession of 
pleasure. He called for his helmet and the most cumbrous parts of his 
armour, which he had laid aside; and while Gurth was putting them on, he 
laid his strict injunctions on Wilfred, under pain of his highest 
displeasure, not to engage in the skirmish which he supposed was 
approaching.
"Thou hast fought for me an hundred times, Wilfred, - and I have seen it. 
Thou shalt this day look on, and see how Richard will fight for his friend 
and liegeman."
In the meantime, Robin Hood had sent off several of his followers in 
different directions, as if to reconnoitre the enemy; and when he saw the 
company effectually broken up, he approached Richard, who was now 
completely armed, and, kneeling down on one knee, craved pardon of his 
Sovereign.
"For what, good yeoman?" said Richard, somewhat impatiently. "Have we not 
already granted thee a full pardon for all transgressions? Thinkest thou 
our word is a feather, to be blown backward and forward between us? Thou 
canst not have had time to commit any new offence since that time?"
"Ay, but I have though," answered the yeoman, "if it be an offence to 
deceive my prince for his own advantage. The bugle you have heard was none 
of Malvoisin's, but blown by my direction, to break off the banquet, lest 
it trenched upon hours of dearer import than to be thus dallied with."
He then rose from his knee, folded his arm on his bosom, and in a manner 
rather respectful than submissive, awaited the answer of the King, - like 
one who is conscious he may have given offence, yet is confident in the 
rectitude of his motive. The blood rushed in anger to the countenance of 
Richard; but it was the first transient emotion, and his sense of justice 
instantly subdued it.
"The King of Sherwood," he said, "grudges his venison and his wine-flask to 
the King of England? It is well, bold Robin! - but when you come to see me 
in merry London, I trust to be a less niggard host. Thou art right, 
however, good fellow. Let us therefore to horse and away - Wilfred has been 
impatient this hour. Tell me, bold Robin, hast thou never a friend in thy 
band, who, not content with advising, will needs direct thy motions, and 
look miserable when thou dost presume to act for thyself?"
"Such a one," said Robin, "is my Lieutenant, Little John, who is even now 
absent on an expedition as far as the borders of Scotland; and I will own 
to your Majesty, that I am sometimes displeased by the freedom of his 
councils - but, when I think twice, I cannot be long angry with one who can 
have no motive for his anxiety save zeal for his master's service."
"Thou art right, good yeoman," answered Richard; "and if I had Ivanhoe, on 
the one hand, to give grave advice, and recommend it by the sad gravity of 
his brow, and thee, on the other, to trick me into what thou thinkest my 
own good, I should have as little the freedom of mine own will as any king 
in Christendom or Heathenesse. - But come, sirs, let us merrily on to 
Coningsburgh, and think no more on't."
Robin Hood assured them that he had detached a party in the direction of 
the road they were to pass, who would not fail to discover and apprise them 
of any secret ambuscade; and that he had little doubt they would find the 
ways secure, or, if otherwise, would receive such timely notice of the 
danger as would enable them to fall back on a strong troop of archers, with 
which he himself proposed to follow on the same route.
The wise and attentive precautions adopted for his safety touched Richard's 
feelings, and removed any slight grudge which he might retain on account of 
the deception the Outlaw Captain had practised upon him. He once more 
extended his hand to Robin Hood, assured him of his full pardon and future 
favour, as well as his firm resolution to restrain the tyrannical exercise 
of the forest rights and other oppressive laws, by which so many English 
yeomen were driven into a state of rebellion. But Richard's good intentions 
towards the bold Outlaw were frustrated by the King's untimely death; and 
the Charter of the Forest was extorted from the unwilling hands of King 
John when he succeeded to his heroic brother. As for the rest of Robin 
Hood's career, as well as the tale of his treacherous death, they are to be 
found in those black-letter garlands, once sold at the low and easy rate of 
one halfpenny,

"Now cheaply purchased at their weight in gold."

The Outlaw's opinion proved true; and the King, attended by Ivanhoe, Gurth, 
and Wamba, arrived, without any interruption, within view of the Castle of 
Coningsburgh, while the sun was yet in the horizon.
There are few more beautiful or striking scenes in England, than are 
presented by the vicinity of this ancient Saxon fortress. The soft and 
gentle river Don sweeps through an amphitheatre, in which cultivation is 
richly blended with woodland, and on a mount, ascending from the river, 
well defended by walls and ditches, rises this ancient edifice, which, as 
its Saxon name implies, was, previous to the Conquest, a royal residence of 
the kings of England. The outer walls have probably been added by the 
Normans, but the inner keep bears token of very great antiquity. It is 
situated on a mount at one angle of the inner court, and forms a complete 
circle of perhaps twenty-five feet in diameter. The wall is of immense 
thickness, and is propped or defended by six huge external buttresses which 
project from the circle, and rise up against the sides of the tower is if 
to strengthen or to support it. These massive buttresses are solid when 
they arise from the foundation, and a good way higher up; but are hollowed 
out towards the top, and terminate in a sort of turrets communicating with 
the interior of the keep itself. The distant appearance of this huge 
building, with these singular accompaniments, is as interesting to the 
lovers of the picturesque, as the interior of the castle is to the eager 
antiquary, whose imagination it carries back to the days of the heptarchy. 
A barrow, in the vicinity of the castle, is pointed out as the tomb of the 
memorable Hengist; and various monuments, of great antiquity and curiosity, 
are shown in the neighbouring churchyard.
When Coeur-de-Lion and his retinue approached this rude yet stately 
building, it was not, as at present, surrounded by external fortifications. 
The Saxon architect had exhausted his art in rendering the main keep 
defensible, and there was no other circumvallation than a rude barrier of 
palisades.
A huge black banner, which floated from the top of the tower, announced 
that the obsequies of the late owner were still in the act of being 
solemnised. It bore no emblem of the deceased's birth or quality, for 
armorial bearings were then a novelty among the Norman chivalry themselves 
and, were totally unknown to the Saxons. But above the gate was another 
banner, on which the figure of a white horse, rudely painted, indicated the 
nation and rank of the deceased, by the well-known symbol of Hengist and 
his Saxon warriors.
All around the castle was a scene of busy commotion; for such funeral 
banquets were times of general and profuse hospitality, which not only 
every one who could claim the most distant connection with the deceased, 
but all passengers whatsoever, were invited to partake. The wealth and 
consequence of the deceased Athelstane, occasioned this custom to be 
observed in the fullest extent.
Numerous parties, therefore, were seen ascending and descending the hill on 
which the castle was situated; and when the King and his attendants entered 
the open and unguarded gates of the external barrier, the space within 
presented a scene not easily reconciled with the cause of the assemblage. 
In one place cooks were toiling to roast huge oxen, and fat sheep; in 
another, hogsheads of ale were set abroach, to be drained at the freedom of 
all comers. Groups of every description were to be seen devouring the food 
and swallowing the liquor thus abandoned to their discretion. The naked 
Saxon serf was drowning the sense of his half-year's hunger and thirst, in 
one day of gluttony and drunkenness - the more pampered burgess and guild-
brother was eating his morsel with gust, or curiously criticising the 
quantity of the malt and the skill of the brewer. Some few of the poorer 
Norman gentry might also be seen, distinguished by their shaven chins and 
short cloaks, and not less so by their keeping together, and looking with 
great scorn on the whole solemnity, even while condescending to avail 
themselves of the good cheer which was so liberally supplied.
Mendicants were of course assembled by the score, together with strolling 
soldiers returned from Palestine, (according to their own account at 
least,) pedlars were displaying their wares, travelling mechanics were 
enquiring after employment, and wandering palmers, hedge-priests, Saxon 
minstrels, and Welsh bards, were muttering prayers, and extracting mistuned 
dirges from their harps, crowds, and rotes. One sent forth the praises of 
Athelstane in a doleful panegyric; another, in a Saxon genealogical poem, 
rehearsed the uncouth and harsh names of his noble ancestry. Jesters and 
jugglers were not awanting, nor was the occasion of the assembly supposed 
to render the exercise of their profession indecorous or improper. Indeed 
the ideas of the Saxons on these occasions were as natural as they were 
rude. If sorrow was thirsty, there was drink - if hungry, there was food - 
if it sunk down upon and saddened the heart, here were the means supplied 
of mirth, or at least of amusement. Nor did the assistants scorn to avail 
themselves of those means of consolation, although, every now and then, as 
if suddenly recollecting the cause which had brought them together, the men 
groaned in unison, while the females, of whom many were present, raised up 
their voices and shrieked for very woe.
Such was the scene in the castle-yard at Coningsburgh when it was entered 
by Richard and his followers. The seneschal or steward deigned not to take 
notice of the groups of inferior guests who were perpetually entering and 
withdrawing, unless so far as was necessary to preserve order; nevertheless 
he was struck by the good mien of the Monarch and Ivanhoe, more especially 
as he imagined the features of the latter were familiar to him. Besides, 
the approach of two knights, for such their dress bespoke them, was a rare 
event at a Saxon solemnity, and could not but be regarded as a sort of 
honour to the deceased and his family. And in his sable dress, and holding 
in his hand his white wand of office, this important personage made way 
through the miscellaneous assemblage of guests, thus conducting Richard and 
Ivanhoe to the entrance of the tower. Gurth and Wamba speedily found 
acquaintances in the court-yard, nor presumed to intrude themselves any 
farther until their presence should be required.


Chapter 42

			I find them winding of Marcello's corpse.
			And there was such a solemn melody,
			'Twixt doleful songs, tears, and sad elegies, -
			Such as old grandames, watching by the dead,
			Are wont to outwear the night with.
								-- Old Play.


The mode of entering the great tower of Coningsburgh Castle is very 
peculiar, and partakes of the rude simplicity of the early times in which 
it was erected. A flight of steps, so deep and narrow as to be almost 
precipitous, leads up to a low portal in the south side of the tower, by 
which the adventurous antiquary may still, or at least could a few years 
since, gain access to a small stair within the thickness of the main wall 
of the tower, which leads up to the third story of the building, - the two 
lower being dungeons or vaults, which neither receive air nor light, save 
by a square hole in the third story, with which they seem to have 
communicated by a ladder. The access to the upper apartments in the tower 
which consist in all of four stories, is given by stairs which are carried 
up through the external buttresses.
By this difficult and complicated entrance, the good King Richard, followed 
by his faithful Ivanhoe, was ushered into the round apartment which 
occupies the whole of the third story from the ground. Wilfred, by the 
difficulties of the ascent, gained time to muffle his face in his mantle, 
as it had been held expedient that he should not present himself to his 
father until the King should give him the signal.
There were assembled in this apartment, around a large oaken table, about a 
dozen of the most distinguished representatives of the Saxon families in 
the adjacent counties. They were all old, or, at least, elderly men; for 
the younger race, to the great displeasure of the seniors, had, like 
Ivanhoe, broken down many of the barriers which separated for half a 
century the Norman victors from the vanquished Saxons. The downcast and 
sorrowful looks of these venerable men, their silence and their mournful 
posture, formed a strong contrast to the levity of the revellers on the 
outside of the castle. Their grey locks and long full beards, together with 
their antique tunics and loose black mantles, suited well with the singular 
and rude apartment in which they were seated, and gave the appearance of a 
band of ancient worshippers of Woden, recalled to life to mourn over the 
decay of their national glory.
Cedric, seated in equal rank among his countrymen, seemed yet, by common 
consent, to act as chief of the assembly. Upon the entrance of Richard 
(only known to him as the valorous Knight of the Fetterlock) he arose 
gravely, and gave him welcome by the ordinary salutation, Waes hael, 
raising at the same time a goblet to his head. The King, no stranger to the 
customs of his English subjects, returned the greeting with the appropriate 
words, Drinc hael, and partook of a cup which was handed to him by the 
sewer. The same courtesy was offered to Ivanhoe, who pledged his father in 
silence, supplying the usual speech by an inclination of his head, lest his 
voice should have been recognised.
When this introductory ceremony was performed, Cedric arose, and, extending 
his hand to Richard, conducted him into a small and very rude chapel, which 
was excavated, as it were, out of one of the external buttresses. As there 
was no opening, saving a little narrow loop-hole, the place would have been 
nearly quite dark but for two flambeaux or torches, which showed, by a red 
and smoky light, the arched roof and naked walls, the rude altar of stone, 
and the crucifix of the same material.
Before this altar was placed a bier, and on each side of this bier kneeled 
three priests, who told their beads, and muttered their prayers, with the 
greatest signs of external devotion. For this service a splendid soul-scat 
was paid to the convent of Saint Edmund's by the mother of the deceased; 
and, that it might be fully deserved, the whole brethren, saving the lame 
Sacristan, had transferred themselves to Coningsburgh, where, while six of 
their number were constantly on guard in the performance of divine rites by 
the bier of Athelstane, the others failed not to take their share of the 
refreshments and amusements which went on at the castle. In maintaining 
this pious watch and ward, the good monks were particularly careful not to 
interrupt their hymns for an instant, lest Zernebock, the ancient Saxon 
Apollyon, should lay his clutches on the departed Athelstane. Now were they 
less careful to prevent any unhallowed layman from touching the pall, 
which, having been that used at the funeral of Saint Edmund, was liable to 
be desecrated, if handled by the profane. If, in truth, these attentions 
could be of any use to the deceased, he had some right to expect them at 
the hands of the brethren of Saint Edmund's, since, besides a hundred 
mancuses of gold paid down as the soul-ransom, the mother of Athelstane had 
announced her intention of endowing that foundation with the better part of 
the lands of the deceased, in order to maintain perpetual prayers for his 
soul, and that of her departed husband.
Richard and Wilfred followed the Saxon Cedric into the apartment of death, 
where, as their guide pointed with solemn air to the untimely bier of 
Athelstane, they followed his example in devoutly crossing themselves, and 
muttering a brief prayer for the weal of the departed soul.
This act of pious charity performed, Cedric again motioned them to follow 
him, gliding over the stone floor with a noiseless tread; and, after 
ascending a few steps, opened with great caution the door of a small 
oratory, which adjoined to the chapel. It was about eight feet square, 
hollowed, like the chapel itself, out of the thickness of the wall; and the 
loop-hole, which enlightened it, being to the west, and widening 
considerably as it sloped inward, a beam of the setting sun found its way 
into its dark recess, and showed a female of a dignified mien, and whose 
countenance retained the marked remains of majestic beauty. Her long 
mourning robes and her flowing wimple of black cypress, enhanced the 
whiteness of her skin, and the beauty of her light-coloured and flowing 
tresses, which time had neither thinned nor mingled with silver. Her 
countenance expressed the deepest sorrow that is consistent with 
resignation. On the stone table before her stood a crucifix of ivory, 
beside which was laid a missal, having its pages richly illuminated, and 
its boards adorned with clasps of gold, and bosses of the same precious 
metal.
"Noble Edith," said Cedric, after having stood a moment silent, as if to 
give Richard and Wilfred time to look upon the lady of the mansion, "these 
are worthy strangers, come to take a part in thy sorrows. And this, in 
especial, is the valiant Knight who fought so bravely for the deliverance 
of him for whom we this day mourn.'
"His bravery has my thanks," returned the lady; "although it be the will of 
Heaven that it should be displayed in vain. I thank, too, his courtesy, and 
that of his companion, which hath brought them hither to behold the widow 
of Adeling, the mother of Athelstane, in her deep hour of sorrow and 
lamentation. To your care, kind kinsman, I entrust them, satisfied that 
they will want no hospitality which these sad walls can yet afford."
The guests bowed deeply to the mourning parent, and withdrew from their 
hospitable guide.
Another winding stair conducted them to an apartment of the same size with 
that which they had first entered, occupying indeed the story immediately 
above. From this room, ere yet the door was opened, proceeded a low and 
melancholy strain of vocal music. When they entered, they found themselves 
in the presence of about twenty matrons and maidens of distinguished Saxon 
lineage. Four maidens, Rowena leading the choir, raised a hymn for the soul 
of the deceased, of which we have only been able to decipher two or three 
stanzas: -

		Dust unto dust,
		To this all must;
		The tenant hath resign'd
		The faded form
		To waste and worm -
		Corruption claims her kind.

		Through paths unknown
		Thy soul hath flown,
		To seek the realms of woe,
		Where fiery pain
		Shall purge the stain
		Of actions done below.

		In that sad place,
		By Mary's grace,
		Brief may thy dwelling be
		Till prayers and alms,
		And holy psalms,
		Shall set the captive free.

While this dirge was sang, in a low and melancholy tone, by the female 
choristers, the others were divided into two bands, of which one was 
engaged in bedecking, with such embroidery as their skill and taste could 
compass, a large silken pall, destined to cover the bier of Athelstane, 
while the others busied themselves in selecting, from baskets of flowers 
placed before them, garlands, which they intended for the same mournful 
purpose. The behaviour of the maidens was decorous, if not marked with deep 
affliction; but now and then a whisper or a smile called forth the rebuke 
of the severer matrons, and here and there might be seen a damsel more 
interested in endeavouring to find out how her mourning-robe became her, 
than in the dismal ceremony for which they were preparing. Neither was this 
propensity (if we must needs confess the truth) at all diminished by the 
appearance of two strange knights, which occasioned some looking up, 
peeping, and whispering. Rowena alone, too proud to be vain, paid her 
greeting to her deliverer with a graceful courtesy. Her demeanour was 
serious, but not dejected; and it may be doubted whether thoughts of 
Ivanhoe, and of the uncertainty of his fate, did not claim as great a share 
in her gravity as the death of her kinsman.
To Cedric, however, who, as we have observed, was not remarkably clear-
sighted on such occasions, the sorrow of his ward seemed so much deeper 
than any of the other maidens, that he deemed it proper to whisper the 
explanation - "She was the affianced bride of the noble Athelstane." - It 
may be doubted whether this communication went a far way to increase 
Wilfred's disposition to sympathise with the mourners of Coningsburgh.
Having thus formally introduced the guests to the different chambers in 
which the obsequies of Athelstane were celebrated under different forms, 
Cedric conducted them into a small room, destined, as he informed them, for 
the exclusive accommodation of honourable guests, whose more slight 
connection with the deceased might render them unwilling to join those who 
were immediately effected by the unhappy event. He assured them of every 
accommodation, and was about to withdraw when the Black Knight took his 
hand.
"I crave to remind you, noble Thane," he said, that when we last parted, 
you promised, for the service I had the fortune to render you, to grant me 
a boon."
"It is granted ere named, noble Knight," said Cedric; "yet, at this sad 
moment - "
"Of that also," said the King, "I have bethought me - but my time is brief 
- neither does it seem to me unfit, that, when closing the grave on the 
noble Athelstane, we should deposit therein certain prejudices and hasty 
opinions."
"Sir Knight of the Fetterlock," said Cedric, colouring, and interrupting 
the King in his turn, "I trust your boon regards yourself and no other; for 
in that which concerns the honour of my house, it is scarce fitting that a 
stranger should mingle."
"Nor do I wish to mingle," said the King, mildly, "unless in so far as you 
will admit me to have an interest. As yet you have known me but as the 
Black Knight of the Fetterlock - Know me now as Richard Plantagenet."
"Richard of Anjou!" exclaimed Cedric, stepping backward with the utmost 
astonishment.
"No, noble Cedric - Richard of England! - whose deepest interest - whose 
deepest wish, is to see her sons united with each other. - And, how now, 
worthy Thane! hast thou no knee for thy prince?"
"To Norman blood," said Cedric, "it hath never bended."
"Reserve thine homage then," said the Monarch, "until I shall prove my 
right to it by my equal protection of Normans and English."
"Prince," answered Cedric, "I have ever done justice to thy bravery and thy 
worth - Nor am I ignorant of thy claim to the crown through thy descent 
from Matilda, niece to Edgar Atheling, and daughter to Malcolm of Scotland. 
But Matilda, though of the royal Saxon blood, was not the heir to the 
monarchy."
"I will not dispute my title with thee, noble Thane," said Richard, calmly; 
"but I will bid thee look around thee, and see where thou wilt find another 
to be put into the scale against it."
"And hast thou wandered hither, Prince, to tell me so?" said Cedric - "To 
upbraid me with the ruin of my race, ere the grave has closed o'er the last 
scion of Saxon royalty?" - His countenance darkened as he spoke. - "It was 
boldly - it was rashly done!"
"Not so, by the holy rood!" replied the King; "it was done in the frank 
confidence which one brave man may repose in another, without a shadow of 
danger."
"Thou sayst well, Sir King - for King I own thou art, and wilt be, despite 
of my feeble opposition. - I dare not take the only mode to prevent it, 
though thou hast placed the strong temptation within my reach!"
"And now to my boon," said the King, "which I ask not with one jot the loss 
confidence, that thou hast refused to acknowledge my lawful sovereignty. I 
require of thee, as a man of thy word, on pain of being held faithless, man-
sworn, and nidering, to forgive and receive to thy paternal affection the 
good knight, Wilfred of Ivanhoe. In this reconciliation thou wilt own I 
have an interest - the happiness of my friend, and the quelling of 
dissension among my faithful people."
"And this is Wilfred!" said Cedric, pointing to his son.
"My father! - my father!" said Ivanhoe, prostrating himself at Cedric's 
feet, "grant me thy forgiveness!"
"Thou hast it, my son," said Cedric, raising him up. "The son of Hereward 
knows how to keep his word, even when it has been passed to a Norman. But 
let me see thee use the dress and costume of thy English ancestry - no 
short cloaks, no gay bonnets, no fantastic plumage in my decent household. 
He that would be the son of Cedric, must show himself of English ancestry. 
- Thou art about to speak," he added, sternly, "and I guess the topic. The 
Lady Rowena must complete two years' mourning, as for a betrothed husband - 
all our Saxon ancestors would disown us were we to treat of a new union for 
her ere the grave of him she should have wedded - him, so much the most 
worthy of her hand by birth and ancestry - is yet closed. The ghost of 
Athelstane himself would burst his bloody cerements and stand before us to 
forbid such dishonour to his memory."
It seemed as if Cedric's words had raised a spectre; for, scarce had he 
uttered them ere the door flew open, and Athelstane, arrayed in the 
garments of the grave, stood before them, pale, haggard, and like something 
arisen from the dead!
The effect of this apparition on the persons present was utterly appalling. 
Cedric started back as far as the wall of the apartment would permit, and, 
leaning against it as one unable to support himself, gazed on the figure of 
his friend with eyes that seemed fixed, and a mouth which he appeared 
incapable of shutting. Ivanhoe crossed himself, repeating prayers in Saxon, 
Latin, or Norman-French, as they occurred to his memory, while Richard 
alternately said, Benedicite, and swore, Mort de ma vie!
In the meantime, a horrible noise was heard below stairs, some crying, 
"Secure the treacherous monks!" - others, "Down with them into the 
dungeon!" - others, "Pitch them from the highest battlements!"
"In the name of God!" said Cedric, addressing what seemed the spectre of 
his departed friend, "if thou art mortal, speak! - if a departed spirit, 
say for what cause thou dost revisit us, or if I can do aught that can set 
thy spirit at repose. - Living or dead, noble Athelstane, speak to Cedric!"
"I will," said the spectre, very composedly, "when I have collected breath, 
and when you give me time - Alive, saidst thou? - I am as much alive as he 
can be who has fed on bread and water for three days, which seem three ages 
- Yes, bread and water, Father Cedric! By Heaven, and all saints in it, 
better food hath not passed my weasand for three livelong days, and by 
God's providence it is that I am now here to tell it."
"Why, noble Athelstane," said the Black Knight, "I myself saw you struck 
down by the fierce Templar towards the end of the storm at Torquilstone, 
and as I thought, and Wamba reported, your skull was cloven through the 
teeth."
"You thought amiss, Sir Knight," said Athelstane, "and Wamba lied. My teeth 
are in good order, and that my supper shall presently find - No thanks to 
the Templar though, whose sword turned in his hand, so that the blade 
struck me flatlings, being averted by the handle of the good mace with 
which I warded the blow; had my steel-cap been on, I had not valued it a 
rush, and had dealt him such a counter-buff as would have spoilt his 
retreat. But as it was, down I went, stunned, indeed, but unwounded. 
Others, of both sides, were beaten down and slaughtered above me, so that I 
never recovered my senses until I found myself in a coffin - (an open one, 
by good luck) - placed before the altar of the church of Saint Edmund's. I 
sneezed repeatedly - groaned - awakened and would have arisen, when the 
Sacristan and Abbot, full of terror, came running at the noise, surprised, 
doubtless, and no way pleased to find the man alive, whose heirs they had 
proposed themselves to be. I asked for wine - they gave me some, but it 
must have been highly medicated, for I slept yet more deeply than before, 
and wakened not for many hours. I found my arms swathed down - my feet tied 
so fast that mine ankles ache at the very remembrance - the place was 
utterly dark - the oubliette, as I suppose, of their accursed convent, and 
from the close, stifled, damp smell, I conceive it is also used for a place 
of sepulture. I had strange thoughts of what had befallen me, when the door 
of my dungeon creaked, and two villain monks entered. They would have 
persuaded me I was in purgatory, but I knew too well the pursy short-
breathed voice of the Father Abbot. - Saint Jeremy! how different from that 
tone with which he used to ask me for another slice of the haunch! - the 
dog has feasted with me from Christmas to Twelfth-night."
"Have patience, noble Athelstane," said the King, "take breath - tell your 
story at leisure - beshrew me but such a tale is as well worth listening to 
as a romance."
"Ay but, by the rood of Bromeholm, there was no romance in the matter!" 
said Athelstane. - "A barley loaf and a pitcher of water - that they gave 
me, the niggardly traitors, whom my father, and I myself, had enriched, 
when their best resources were the flitches of bacon and measures of corn, 
out of which they wheedled poor serfs and bondsmen, in exchange for their 
prayers - the nest of foul ungrateful vipers - barley bread and ditch water 
to, such a patron as I had been! I will smoke them out of their nest, 
though I be excommunicated!"
"But, in the name of Our Lady, noble Athelstane," said Cedric, grasping the 
hand of his friend, "how didst thou escape this imminent danger - did their 
hearts relent?"
"Did their hearts relent!" echoed Athelstane. - "Do rocks melt with the 
sun? I should have been there still, had not some stir in the Convent, 
which I find was their procession hitherward to eat my funeral feast, when 
they well knew how and where I had been buried alive, summoned the swarm 
out of their hive. I heard them droning out their death-psalms, little 
judging they were sung in respect for my soul by those who were thus 
famishing my body. They went, however, and I waited long for food - no 
wonder - the gouty Sacristan was even too busy with his own provender to 
mind mine. At length down he came, with an unstable step and a strong 
flavour of wine and spices about his person. Good cheer had opened his 
heart, for he left me a nook of pasty and a flask of wine, instead of my 
former fare. I ate, drank, and was invigorated; when, to add to my good 
luck, the Sacristan, too totty to discharge his duty of turnkey fitly, 
locked the door beside the staple, so that it fell ajar. The light, the 
food, the wine, set my invention to work. The staple to which my chains 
were fixed, was more rusted than I or the villain Abbot had supposed. Even 
iron could not remain without consuming in the damps of that infernal 
dungeon."
"Take breath, noble Athelstane,' said Richard, "and partake of some 
refreshment, ere you proceed with a tale so dreadful."
"Partake!" quoth Athelstane; "I have been partaking five times to-day - and 
yet a morsel of that savoury ham were not altogether foreign to the matter; 
and I pray you, fair sir, to do me reason in a cup of wine."
The guests, though still agape with astonishment, pledged their 
resuscitated landlord, who thus proceeded in his story: - He had indeed now 
many more auditors than those to whom it was commenced, for Edith, having 
given certain necessary orders for arranging matters within the Castle, had 
followed the dead-alive up to the stranger's apartment attended by as many 
of the guests, male and female, as could squeeze into the small room, while 
others, crowding the staircase, caught up an erroneous edition of the 
story, and transmitted it still more inaccurately to those beneath, who 
again sent it forth to the vulgar without, in a fashion totally 
irreconcilable to the real fact. Athelstane, however, went on as follows, 
with the history of his escape: -
"Finding myself freed from the staple, I dragged myself up stairs as well 
as a man loaded with shackles, and emaciated with fasting, might; and after 
much groping about, I was at length directed, by the sound of a jolly 
roundelay, to the apartment where the worthy Sacristan, an it so please ye, 
was holding a devil's mass with a huge beetle-browed, broad-shouldered 
brother of the grey-frock and cowl, who looked much more like a thief than 
a clergyman. I burst in upon them, and the fashion of my grave-clothes, as 
well as the clanking of my chains, made me more resemble an inhabitant of 
the other world than of this. Both stood aghast; but when I knocked down 
the Sacristan with my fist, the other fellow, his pot-companion, fetched a 
blow at me with a huge quarter-staff."
"This must be our Friar Tuck, for a count's ransom," said Richard, looking 
at Ivanhoe.
"He may be the devil, an he will," said Athelstane. "Fortunately be missed 
the aim; and on my approaching to grapple with him, took to his heels and 
ran for it. I failed not to set my own heels at liberty by means of the 
fetter-key, which hung amongst others at the sexton's belt; and I had 
thoughts of beating out the knaves brains with the bunch of keys, but 
gratitude for the nook of pasty and the flask of wine which the rascal had 
imparted to my captivity, came over my heart; so, with a brace of hearty 
kicks, I left him on the floor, pouched some baked meat, and a leathern 
bottle of wine, with which the two venerable brethren had been regaling, 
went to the stable, and found in a private stall mine own best palfrey, 
which, doubtless, had been set apart for the holy Father Abbot's particular 
use. Hither I came with all the speed the beast could compass - man and 
mother's son flying before me wherever I came, taking me for a spectre, the 
more especially as, to prevent my being recognised, I drew the corpse-hood 
over my face. I had not gained admittance into my own castle, had I not 
been supposed to be the attendant of a juggler who is making the people in 
the castle-yard very merry, considering they are assembled to celebrate 
their lord's funeral - I say the sewer thought I was dressed to bear a part 
in the tregetour's mummery, and so I got admission, and did but disclose 
myself to my mother, and eat a hasty morsel, ere I came in quest of you, my 
noble friend."
"And you have found me," said Cedric, "ready to resume our brave projects 
of honour and liberty. I tell thee, never will dawn a morrow so auspicious 
as the next, for the deliverance of the noble Saxon race."
"Talk not to me of delivering any one," said Athelstane; "it is well I am 
delivered myself. I am more intent on punishing that villain Abbot. He 
shall hang on the top of this Castle of Coningsburgh, in his cope and 
stole; and if the stairs be too strait to admit his fat carcass, I will 
have him craned up from without."
"But, my son," said Edith, "consider his sacred office."
"Consider my three days' fast," replied Athelstane; "I will have their 
blood every one of them. Front-de-Boeuf was burnt alive for a less matter, 
for he kept a good table for his prisoners, only put too much garlic in his 
last dish of pottage. But these hypocritical, ungrateful slaves, so often 
the self-invited flatterers at my board, who gave me neither pottage nor 
garlic, more or less, they die, by the soul of Hengist!"
"But the Pope, my noble friend," - said Cedric -
"But the devil, my noble friend," - answered Athelstane; "they die, and no 
more of them. Were they the best monks upon earth, the world would go on 
without them."
"For shame, noble Athelstane," said Cedric; "forget such wretches in the 
career of glory which lies open before thee. Tell this Norman prince, 
Richard of Anjou, that, lion-hearted as he is, he shall not hold undisputed 
the throne of Alfred, while a male descendant of the Holy Confessor lives 
to dispute it."
"How!" said Athelstane, "is this the noble King Richard?"
"It is Richard Plantagenet himself," said Cedric; "yet I need not remind 
thee that, coming hither a guest of free-will, he may neither be injured 
nor detained prisoner - thou well knowest thy duty to him as his host."
"Ay, by my faith!" said Athelstane; "and my duty as a subject besides, for 
I here tender him my allegiance, heart and hand."
"My son," said Edith, "think on thy royal rights!"
"Think on the freedom of England, degenerate Prince!" said Cedric.
"Mother and friend," said Athelstane, "a truce to your upbraidings - bread 
and water and a dungeon are marvellous mortifiers of ambition, and I rise 
from the tomb a wiser man than I descended into it. One half of those vain 
follies were puffed into mine ear by that perfidious Abbot Wolfram, and you 
may now judge if he is a counsellor to be trusted. Since these plots were 
set in agitation, I have had nothing but hurried journeys, indigestions, 
blows and bruises, imprisonments and starvation; besides that they can only 
end in the murder of some thousands of quiet folk. I tell you, I will be 
king in my own domains, and nowhere else; and my first act of dominion 
shall be to hang the Abbot."
"And my ward Rowena," said Cedric - "I trust you intend not to desert her?"
"Father Cedric," said Athelstane, "be reasonable. The Lady Rowena cares not 
for me - she loves the little finger of my kinsman Wilfred's glove better 
than my whole person. There she stands to avouch it - Nay, blush not, 
kinswoman, there is no shame in loving a courtly knight better than a 
country franklin - and do not laugh neither, Rowena, for grave-clothes and 
a thin visage are, God knows, no matter of merriment - Nay, an thou wilt 
needs laugh, I will find thee a better jest - Give me thy hand, or rather 
lend it me, for I but ask it in the way of friendship. - Here, cousin 
Wilfred of Ivanhoe, in thy favour I renounce and abjure - Hey! by Saint 
Dunstan, our cousin Wilfred hath vanished! - Yet, unless my eyes are still 
dazzled with the fasting I have undergone, I saw him stand there but even 
now."
All now looked around and enquired for Ivanhoe, but he had vanished. It was 
at length discovered that a Jew had been to seek him; and that, after very 
brief conference, he had called for Gurth and his armour, and had left the 
castle.
"Fair cousin," said Athelstane to Rowena, "could I think that this sudden 
disappearance of Ivanhoe was occasioned by other than the weightiest 
reason, I would myself resume - "
But he had no sooner let go her hand, on first observing that Ivanhoe had 
disappeared, than Rowena, who had found her situation extremely 
embarrassing, had taken the first opportunity to escape from the apartment.
"Certainly," quoth Athelstane, "women are the least to be trusted of all 
animals, monks and abbots excepted. I am an infidel, if I expected not 
thanks from her, and perhaps a kiss to boot - These cursed grave-clothes 
have surely a spell on them, every one flies from me. - To you I turn, 
noble King Richard, with the vows of allegiance, which, as a liege-subject 
- "
But King Richard was gone also, and no one knew whither. At length it was 
learned that be had hastened to the court-yard, summoned to his presence 
the Jew who had spoken with Ivanhoe, and after a moment's speech with him, 
had called vehemently to horse, thrown himself upon a steed, compelled the 
Jew to mount another, and set off at a rate, which, according to Wamba, 
rendered the old Jew's neck not worth a penny's purchase.
"By my halidome!" said Athelstane, "it is certain that Zernebock hath 
possessed himself of my castle in my absence. I return in my grave-clothes, 
a pledge restored from the very sepulchre, and every one I speak to 
vanishes as soon as they hear my voice! - But it skills not talking of it. 
Come, my friends - such of you as are left, follow me to the banquet-hall, 
lest any more of us disappear - it is, I trust, as yet tolerably furnished, 
as becomes the obsequies of an ancient Saxon noble; and should we tarry any 
longer, who knows but the devil may fly off with the supper?"


Chapter 43

			Be Mowbray's sins so heavy in his bosom,
			That they may break his foaming courser's back,
			And throw the rider headlong in the lists,
			A caitiff recreant!
								-- Richard II.


Our scene now returns to the exterior of the Castle, or Preceptory, of 
Templestowe, about the hour when the bloody die was to be cast for the life 
or death of Rebecca. It was a scene of bustle and life, as if the whole 
vicinity had poured forth its inhabitants to a village wake, or rural 
feast. But the earnest desire to look on blood and death, is not peculiar 
to those dark ages; though in the gladiatorial exercise of single combat 
and general tourney, they were habituated to the bloody spectacle of brave 
men failing by each other's hands. Even in our own days, when morals are 
better understood, an execution, a bruising match, a riot, or a meeting of 
radical reformers, collects, at considerable hazard to themselves, immense 
crowds of spectators, otherwise little interested, except to see how 
matters are to be conducted, or whether the heroes of the day are, in the 
heroic language of insurgent tailors, flints or dunghills.
The eyes, therefore, of a very considerable multitude, were bent on the 
gate of the Preceptory of Templestowe, with the purpose of witnessing the 
procession; while still greater numbers had already surrounded the tiltyard 
belonging to that establishment. This enclosure was formed on a piece of 
level ground adjoining to the Preceptory, which had been levelled with 
care, for the exercise of military and chivalrous sports. It occupied the 
brow of a soft and gentle eminence, was carefully palisaded around, and, as 
the Templars willingly invited spectators to be witnesses of their skill in 
feats of chivalry, was amply supplied with galleries and benches for their 
use.
On the present occasion, a throne was erected for the Grand Master at the 
east end, surrounded with seats of distinction for the Preceptors and 
Knights of the Order. Over these floated the sacred standard, called Le 
Beau-seant, which was the ensign, as its name was the battle-cry, of the 
Templars.
At the opposite end of the lists was a pile of faggots, so arranged around 
a stake, deeply fixed in the ground, as to leave a space for the victim 
whom they were destined to consume, to enter within the fatal circle, in 
order to be chained to the stake by the fetters which hung ready for that 
purpose. Beside this deadly apparatus stood four black slaves, whose colour 
and African features, then so little known in England, appalled the 
multitude, who gazed on them as on demons employed about their own 
diabolical exercises. These men stirred not, excepting now and then, under 
the direction of one who seemed their chief, to shift and replace the ready 
fuel. They looked not on the multitude. In fact, they seemed insensible of 
their presence, and of every thing save the discharge of their own horrible 
duty. And when, in speech with each other, they expanded their blubber 
lips, and showed their white fangs, as if they grinned at the thoughts of 
the expected tragedy, the startled commons could scarcely help believing 
that they were actually the familiar spirits with whom the witch had 
communed, and who, her time being out, stood ready to assist in her 
dreadful punishment. They whispered to each other, and communicated all the 
feats which Satan had performed during that busy and unhappy period, not 
failing, of course, to give the devil rather more than his due.
"Have you not heard, Father Dennet," quoth one boor to another advanced in 
years, "that the devil has carried away bodily the great Saxon Thane, 
Athelstane of Coningsburgh?"
"Ay, but he brought him back though, by the blessing of God and Saint 
Dunstan."
"How's that?" said a brisk young fellow, dressed in a green cassock 
embroidered with gold, and having at his heels a stout lad bearing a harp 
upon his back, which betrayed his vocation. The Minstrel seemed of no 
vulgar rank; for, besides the splendour of his gayly broidered doublet, he 
wore around his neck a silver chain, by which hung the wrest, or key, with 
which he tuned his harp. On his right arm was a silver plate, which, 
instead of bearing, as usual, the cognisance or badge of the baron to whose 
family he belonged, had barely the word Sherwood engraved upon it. - "How 
mean you by that?" said the gay Minstrel, mingling in the conversation of 
the peasants; "I came to seek one subject for my rhyme, and, by'r Lady, I 
were glad to find two."
"It is well avouched," said the elder peasant, "that after Athelstane of 
Coningsburgh had been dead four weeks - "
"That is impossible," said the Minstrel; "I saw him in life at the Passage 
of Arms at Ashby-de-la-Zouche."
"Dead, however, he was, or else translated," said the younger peasant; "for 
I heard the Monks of Saint Edmund's singing the death's hymn for him; and, 
moreover, there was a rich death-meal and dole at the Castle of 
Coningsburgh, as right was; and thither had I gone, but for Mabel Parkins, 
who - "
"Ay, dead was Athelstane," said the old man, shaking his head, "and the 
more pity it was, for the old Saxon blood - "
"But, your story, my masters - your story," said the Minstrel, somewhat 
impatiently.
"Ay, ay - construe us the story," said a burly Friar, who stood beside 
them, leaning on a pole that exhibited an appearance between a pilgrim's 
staff and a quarter-staff, and probably acted as either when occasion 
served, - "Your story," said the stalwart churchman; "burn not daylight 
about it - we have short time to spare."
"An please your reverence," said Dennet, "a drunken priest came to visit 
the Sacristan at Saint Edmund's - "
"It does not please my reverence," answered the churchman, "that there 
should be such an animal as a drunken priest, or, if there were, that a 
layman should so speak him. Be mannerly, my friend, and conclude the holy 
man only wrapped in meditation, which makes the head dizzy and foot 
unsteady, as if the stomach were filled with new wine - I have felt it 
myself."
"Well, then," answered Father Dennet, "a holy brother came to visit the 
Sacristan at Saint Edmund's - a sort of hedge-priest is the visitor, and 
kills half the deer that are stolen in the forest, who loves the tinkling 
of a pint-pot better than the sacring-bell, and deems a flitch of bacon 
worth ten of his breviary; for the rest, a good fellow and a merry, who 
will flourish a quarter-staff, draw a bow, and dance a Cheshire round, with 
e'er a man in Yorkshire."
"That last part of thy speech, Dennet," said the Minstrel, "has saved thee 
a rib or twain."
"Tush, man, I fear him not," said Dennet; "I am somewhat old and stiff, but 
when I fought for the bell and ram at Doncaster - "
""But the story - the story, my friend," again said the Minstrel.
"Why, the tale is but this - Athelstane of Coningsburgh was buried at Saint 
Edmund's."
"That's a lie, and a loud one," said the Friar, "for I saw him borne to his 
own Castle of Coningsburgh."
"Nay, then, e'en tell the story yourself, my masters," said Dennet, turning 
sulky at these repeated contradictions; and it was with some difficulty 
that the boor could be prevailed on, by the request of his comrade and the 
Minstrel, to renew his tale. - "These two sober friars," said he at length, 
"since this reverend man will needs have them such, had continued drinking 
good ale, and wine, and what not, for the best part for a summer's day, 
when they were aroused by a deep groan, and a clanking of chains, and the 
figure of the deceased Athelstane entered the apartment, saying, 'Ye evil 
shepherds! - ' "
"It is false," said the Friar, hastily, "he never spoke a word."
"So ho! Friar Tuck," said the Minstrel, drawing him apart from the rustics; 
"we have started a new hare, I find."
"I tell thee, Allan-a-Dale," said the Hermit, "I saw Athelstane of 
Coningsburgh as much as bodily eyes ever saw a living man. He had his 
shroud on, and all about him smelt of the sepulchre - A butt of sack will 
not wash it out of my memory."
"Pshaw!" answered the Minstrel; "thou dost but jest with me!"
"Never believe me," said the Friar, "an I fetched not a knock at him with 
my quarter-staff that would have felled an ox, and it glided through his 
body as it might through a pillar of smoke!"
"By Saint Hubert," said the Minstrel, "but it is a wondrous tale, and fit 
to be put in metre to the ancient tune, 'Sorrow came to the old Friar.' "
"Laugh, if ye list," said Friar Tuck; "but an ye catch me singing on such a 
theme, may the next ghost or devil carry me off with him headlong! No, no - 
I instantly formed the purpose of assisting at some good work, such as the 
burning of a witch, a judicial combat, or the like matter of godly service, 
and therefore am I here."
As they thus conversed, the heavy bell of the church of Saint Michael of 
Templestowe, a venerable building, situated in a hamlet at some distance 
from the Preceptory, broke short their argument. One by one the sullen 
sounds fell successively on the ear, leaving but sufficient space for each 
to die away in distant echo, ere the air was again filled by repetition of 
the iron knell. These sounds, the signal of the approaching ceremony, 
chilled with awe the hearts of the assembled multitude, whose eyes were now 
turned to the Preceptory, expecting the approach of the Grand Master, the 
champion, and the criminal.
At length the drawbridge fell, the gates opened, and a knight, bearing the 
great standard of the Order, sallied from the castle, preceded by six 
trumpets, and followed by the Knights Preceptors, two and two, the Grand 
Master coming last, mounted on a stately horse, whose furniture was of the 
simplest kind. Behind him came Brian de Bois-Guilbert, armed cap-a-pie in 
bright armour, but without his lance, shield, and sword, which were borne 
by his two esquires behind him. His face, though partly hidden by a long 
plume which floated down from his barrel-cap, bore a strong and mingled 
expression of passion, in which pride seemed to contend with irresolution. 
He looked ghastly pale, as if he had not slept for several nights, yet 
reined his pawing war-horse with the habitual ease and grace proper to the 
best lance of the Order of the Temple. His general appearance was grand and 
commanding; but, looking at him with attention, men read that in his dark 
features, from which they willingly withdrew their eyes.
On either side rode Conrade of Mont-Fitchet, and Albert de Malvoisin, who 
acted as godfathers to the champion. They were in their robes of peace, the 
white dress of the Order. Behind them followed other Companions of the 
Temple, with a long train of esquires and pages clad in black, aspirants to 
the honour of being one day Knights of the Order. After these neophytes 
came a guard of warders on foot, in the same sable livery, amidst whose 
partisans might be seen the pale form of the accused, moving with a slow 
but undismayed step towards the scene of her fate. She was stripped of all 
her ornaments, lest perchance there should be among them some of those 
amulets which Satan was supposed to bestow upon his victims, to deprive 
them of the power of confession even when under the torture. A coarse white 
dress, of the simplest form, had been substituted for her Oriental 
garments; yet there was such an exquisite mixture of courage and 
resignation in her look, that even in this garb, and with no other ornament 
than her long black tresses, each eye wept that looked upon her, and the 
most hardened bigot regretted the fate that had converted a creature so 
goodly into a vessel of wrath, and a waged slave of the devil.
A crowd of inferior personages belonging to the Preceptory followed the 
victim, all moving with the utmost order, with arms folded, and looks bent 
upon the ground.
This slow procession moved up the gentle eminence, on the summit of which 
was the tiltyard, and, entering the lists, marched once around them from 
right to left, and when they had completed the circle, made a halt. There 
was then a momentary bustle, while the Grand Master and all his attendants, 
excepting the champion and his godfathers, dismounted from their horses, 
which were immediately removed out of the lists by the esquires, who were 
in attendance for that purpose.
The unfortunate Rebecca was conducted to the black chair placed near the 
pile. On her first glance at the terrible spot where preparations were 
making for a death alike dismaying to the mind and painful to the body, she 
was observed to shudder and shut her eyes, praying internally doubtless, 
for her lips moved though no speech was heard. In the space of a minute she 
opened her eyes, looked fixedly on the pile as if to familiarise her mind 
with the object, and then slowly and naturally turned away her head.
Meanwhile, the Grand Master had assumed his seat; and when the chivalry of 
his order was placed around and behind him, each in his due rank, a loud 
and long flourish of the trumpets announced that the Court were seated for 
judgement. Malvoisin, then, acting as godfather of the champion, stepped 
forward, and laid the glove of the Jewess, which was the pledge of battle, 
at the feet of the Grand Master.
"Valorous Lord, and reverend Father," said he, here standeth the good 
Knight, Brian de Bois-Guilbert, Knight Preceptor of the Order of the 
Temple, who, by accepting the pledge of battle which I now lay at your 
reverence's feet, hath become bound to do his devoir in combat this day, to 
maintain that this Jewish maiden, by name Rebecca, hath justly deserved the 
doom passed upon her in a chapter of this most Holy Order of the Temple of 
Zion, condemning her to die as a sorceress; - here, I say, he standeth, 
such battle to do, knightly and honourable, if such be your noble and 
sanctified pleasure."
"Hath he made oath," said the Grand Master, "that his quarrel is just and 
honourable? Bring forward the Crucifix and the Te igitur."
"Sir, and most reverend father," answered Malvoisin, readily, "our brother 
here present hath already sworn to the truth of his accusation in the hand 
of the good Knight Conrade de Mont-Fitchet; and otherwise he ought not to 
be sworn, seeing that his adversary is an unbeliever, and may take no 
oath."
This explanation was satisfactory, to Albert's great joy; for the wily 
knight had foreseen the great difficulty, or rather impossibility, of 
prevailing upon Brian de Bois-Guilbert to take such an oath before the 
assembly, and had invented this excuse to escape the necessity of his doing 
so.
The Grand Master, having allowed the apology of Albert Malvoisin, commanded 
the herald to stand forth and do his devoir. The trumpets then again 
flourished, and a herald, stepping forward, proclaimed aloud, - "Oyez, 
oyez, oyez. - Here standeth the good Knight, Sir Brian de Bois-Guilbert, 
ready to do battle with any knight of free blood, who will sustain the 
quarrel allowed and allotted to the Jewess Rebecca, to try by champion, in 
respect of lawful essoine of her own body; and to such champion the 
reverend and valorous Grand Master here present allows a fair field, and 
equal partition of sun and wind, and whatever else appertains to a fair 
combat." The trumpets again sounded, and there was a dead pause of many 
minutes.
"No champion appears for the appellant," said the Grand Master. "Go, 
herald, and ask her whether she expects any one to do battle for her in 
this her cause." The herald went to the chair in which Rebecca was seated, 
and Bois-Guilbert suddenly turning his horse's head toward that end of the 
lists, in spite of hints on either side from Malvoisin and Mont-Fitchet, 
was by the side of Rebecca's chair as soon as the herald.
"Is this regular, and according to the law of combat?" said Malvoisin, 
looking to the Grand Master.
"Albert de Malvoisin, it is," answered Beaumanoir; "for in this appeal to 
the judgement of God, we may not prohibit parties from having that 
communication with each other, which may best tend to bring forth the truth 
of the quarrel."
In the meantime, the herald spoke to Rebecca in these terms: - "Damsel, the 
Honourable and Reverend the Grand Master demands of thee, if thou art 
prepared with a champion to do battle this day in thy behalf, or if thou 
dost yield thee as one justly condemned to a deserved doom?"
"Say to the Grand Master," replied Rebecca, "that I maintain my innocence, 
and do not yield me as justly condemned, lest I become guilty of mine own 
blood. Say to him, that I challenge such delay as his forms will permit, to 
see if God, whose opportunity is in man's extremity, will raise me up a 
deliverer; and when such uttermost space is passed, may His holy will be 
done!" The herald retired to carry this answer to the Grand Master.
"God forbid," said Lucas Beaumanoir, "that Jew or Pagan should impeach us 
of injustice! - Until the shadows be cast from the west to the eastward, 
will we wait to see if a champion shall appear for this unfortunate woman. 
When the day is so far passed, let her prepare for death."
The herald communicated the words of the Grand Master to Rebecca, who bowed 
her head submissively, folded her arms, and, looking up towards heaven, 
seemed to expect that aid from above which she could scarce promise herself 
from man. During this awful pause, the voice of Bois-Guilbert broke upon 
her ear - it was but a whisper, yet it startled her more than the summons 
of the herald had appeared to do.
"Rebecca," said the Templar, "dost thou hear me?"
"I have no portion in thee, cruel, hard-hearted man," said the unfortunate 
maiden.
"Ay, but dost thou understand my words?" said the Templar; "for the sound 
of my voice is frightful in mine own ears. I scarce know on what ground we 
stand, or for what purpose they have brought us hither. - This listed space 
- that chair - these faggots - I know their purpose, and yet it appears to 
me like something unreal - the fearful picture of a vision, which appals my 
sense with hideous fantasies, but convinces not my reason."
"My mind and senses keep touch and time," answered Rebecca, "and tell me 
alike that these faggots are destined to consume my earthly body, and open 
a painful but a brief passage to a better world."
"Dreams, Rebecca, - dreams," answered the Templar; "idle visions, rejected 
by the wisdom of your own wiser Sadducees. Hear me, Rebecca," he said, 
proceeding with animation; "a better chance hast thou for life and liberty 
than yonder knaves and dotard dream of. Mount thee behind me on my steed - 
on Zamor, the gallant horse that never failed his rider. I won him in 
single fight from the Soldan of Trebizond - mount, I say, behind me - in 
one short hour is pursuit and enquiry far behind - a new world of pleasure 
opens to thee - to me a new career of fame. Let them speak the doom which I 
despise, and erase the name of Bois-Guilbert from their list of monastic 
slaves! I will wash out with blood whatever blot they may dare to cast on 
my scutcheon."
"Tempter," said Rebecca, "begone! - Not in this last extremity canst thou 
move me one hair's-breadth from my resting place - surrounded as I am by 
foes, I hold thee as my worst and most deadly enemy - avoid thee, in the 
name of God!"
Albert Malvoisin, alarmed and impatient at the duration of their 
conference, now advanced to interrupt it.
"Hath the maiden acknowledged her guilt?" he demanded of Bois-Guilbert; "or 
is she resolute in her denial?"
"She is indeed resolute," said Bois-Guilbert.
"Then," said Malvoisin, "must thou, noble brother, resume thy place to 
attend the issue - The shades are changing on the circle of the dial - 
Come, brave Bois-Guilbert - come, thou hope of our holy Order, and soon to 
be its head."
As he spoke in this soothing tone, he laid his hand on the knight's bridle, 
as if to lead him back to his station.
"False villain! what meanest thou by thy hand on my rein?" said Sir Brian, 
angrily. And shaking off his companion's grasp, he rode back to the upper 
end of the lists.
"There is yet spirit in him," said Malvoisin apart to Mont-Fitchet, "were 
it well directed - but, like the Greek fire, it burns whatever approaches 
it."
The Judges had now been two hours in the lists, awaiting in vain the 
appearance of a champion.
"And reason good," said Friar Tuck, "seeing she is a Jewess - and yet, by 
mine Order, it is hard that so young and beautiful a creature should perish 
without one blow being struck in her behalf! Were she ten times a witch, 
provided she were but the least bit of a Christian, my quarter-staff should 
ring noon on the steel cap of yonder fierce Templar, ere he carried the 
matter off thus."
It was, however, the general belief that no one could or would appear for a 
Jewess, accused of sorcery; and the knights, instigated by Malvoisin, 
whispered to each other, that it was time to declare the pledge of Rebecca 
forfeited. At this instant a knight, urging his horse to speed, appeared on 
the plain advancing towards the lists. A hundred voices exclaimed, "A 
champion! a champion!" And despite the prepossessions and prejudices of the 
multitude, they shouted unanimously as the knight rode into the tiltyard, 
The second glance, however, served to destroy the hope that his timely 
arrival had excited. His horse, urged for many miles to its utmost speed, 
appeared to reel from fatigue, and the rider, however undauntedly he 
presented himself in the lists, either from weakness, weariness, or both, 
seemed scarce able to support himself in the saddle.
To the summons of the herald, who demanded his rank, his name, and purpose, 
the stranger knight answered readily and boldly, "I am a good knight and 
noble, come hither to sustain with lance and sword the just and lawful 
quarrel of this damsel, Rebecca, daughter of Isaac of York; to uphold the 
doom pronounced against her to be false and truthless, and to defy Sir 
Brian de Bois-Guilbert, as a traitor, murderer, and liar; as I will prove 
in this field with my body against his, by the aid of God, of Our Lady, and 
of Monseigneur Saint George, the good knight."
"The stranger must first show," said Malvoisin, "that he is good knight, 
and of honourable lineage. The Temple sendeth not forth her champions 
against nameless men."
"My name," said the Knight, raising his helmet, "is better known, my 
lineage more pure, Malvoisin, than thine own. I am Wilfred of Ivanhoe."
"I will not fight with thee at present," said the Templar, in a changed and 
hollow voice. "Get thy wounds healed, purvey thee a better horse, and it 
may be I will hold it worth my while to scourge out of thee this boyish 
spirit of bravade."
"Ha! proud Templar," said Ivanhoe, "hast thou forgotten that twice didst 
thou fall before this lance? Remember the lists at Acre - remember the 
Passage of Arms at Ashby - remember thy proud vaunt in the halls of 
Rotherwood, and the gage of your gold chain against my reliquary, that thou 
wouldst do battle with Wilfred of Ivanhoe, and recover the honour thou 
hadst lost! By that reliquary and the holy relic it contains, I will 
proclaim thee, Templar, a coward in every court in Europe - in every 
Preceptory of thine Order - unless thou do battle without farther delay."
Bois-Guilbert turned his countenance irresolutely towards Rebecca, and then 
exclaimed, looking fiercely at Ivanhoe, "Dog of a Saxon! take thy lance, 
and prepare for the death thou hast drawn upon thee!"
"Does the Grand Master allow me the combat?" said Ivanhoe.
"I may not deny what thou hast challenged," said the Grand Master, 
"provided the maiden accepts thee as her champion. Yet I would thou wert in 
better plight to do battle. An enemy of our Order hast thou ever been, yet 
would I have thee honourably met with."
"Thus - thus as I am, and not otherwise," said Ivanhoe; "it is the 
judgement of God - to his keeping I commend myself. - Rebecca," said he, 
riding up to the fatal chair, "dost thou accept of me for thy champion?"
"I do," she said - "I do," fluttered by an emotion which the fear of death 
had been unable to produce, "I do accept thee as the champion whom Heaven 
hath sent me. Yet, no - no - thy wounds are uncured - Meet not that proud 
man - why shouldst thou perish also?"
But Ivanhoe was already at his post, and had closed his visor, and assumed 
his lance. Bois-Guilbert did the same; and his esquire remarked, as he 
clasped his visor, that his face, which had, notwithstanding the variety of 
emotions by which he had been agitated, continued during the whole morning 
of an ashy paleness, was now become suddenly very much flushed.
The herald, then, seeing each champion in his place, uplifted his voice, 
repeating thrice - Faites vos devoirs, preux chevaliers! After the third 
cry, he withdrew to one side of the lists, and again proclaimed, that none, 
on peril of instant death, should dare, by word, cry, or action, to 
interfere with or disturb this fair field of combat. The Grand Master, who 
held in his hand the gage of battle, Rebecca's glove, now threw it into the 
lists, and pronounced the fatal signal words, Laissez aller.
The trumpets sounded, and the knights charged each other in full career. 
The wearied horse of Ivanhoe, and its no less exhausted rider, went down, 
as all had expected, before the well-aimed lance and vigorous steed of the 
Templar. This issue of the combat all had foreseen; but although the spear 
of Ivanhoe did but, in comparison, touch the shield of Bois-Guilbert, that 
champion, to the astonishment of all who beheld it reeled in his saddle, 
lost his stirrups, and fell in the lists.
Ivanhoe, extricating himself from his fallen horse, was soon on foot, 
hastening to mend his fortune with his sword; but his antagonist arose not. 
Wilfred, placing his foot on his breast, and the sword's point to his 
throat, commanded him to yield him, or die on the spot. Bois-Guilbert 
returned no answer.
"Slay him not, Sir Knight," cried the Grand Master, "unshriven and 
unabsolved - kill not body and soul! We allow him vanquished."
He descended into the lists, and commanded them to unhelm the conquered 
champion. His eyes were closed - the dark red flush was still on his brow. 
As they looked on him in astonishment, the eyes opened - but they were 
fixed and glazed. The flush passed from his brow, and gave way to the 
pallid hue of death. Unscathed by the lance of his enemy, he had died a 
victim to the violence of his own contending passions.
"This is indeed the judgement of God," said the Grand Master, looking 
upwards - "Fiat voluntas tua!"


Chapter 44

			So! now 'tis ended, like an old wife's story.
								-- Webster.


When the first moments of surprise were over, Wilfred of Ivanhoe demanded 
of the Grand Master, as judge of the field, if he had manfully and 
rightfully done his duty in the combat?
"Manfully and rightfully hath it been done," said the Grand Master. "I 
pronounce the maiden free and guiltless - The arms and the body of the 
deceased knight are at the will of the victor."
"I will not despoil him of his weapons," said the Knight of Ivanhoe, "nor 
condemn his corpse to shame - he hath fought for Christendom - God's arm, 
no human hand, hath this day struck him down. But let his obsequies be 
private, as becomes those of a man who died in an unjust quarrel. - And for 
the maiden - "
He was interrupted by a clattering of horses' feet, advancing in such 
numbers, and so rapidly, as to shake the ground before them; and the Black 
Knight galloped into the lists. He was followed by a numerous band of men-
at-arms, and several knights in complete armour.
"I am too late," he said, looking around him. "I had doomed Bois-Guilbert 
for mine own property. - Ivanhoe, was this well, to take on thee such a 
venture, and thou scarce able to keep thy saddle?"
"Heaven, my Liege," answered Ivanhoe, "hath taken this proud man for its 
victim. He was not to be honoured in dying as your will had designed."
"Peace be with him," said Richard, looking steadfastly on the corpse, "if 
it may be so - he was a gallant knight, and has died in his steel harness 
full knightly. But we must waste no time - Bohun, do thine office!"
A Knight stepped forward from the King's attendants, and, laying his hand 
on the shoulder of Albert de Malvoisin, said, "I arrest thee of High 
Treason."
The Grand Master had hitherto stood astonished at the appearance of so many 
warriors. - He now spoke.
"Who dares to arrest a Knight of the Temple of Zion, within the girth of 
his own Preceptory, and in the presence of the Grand Master? and by whose 
authority is this bold outrage offered?"
"I make the arrest," replied the Knight - "I, Henry Bohun, Earl of Essex, 
Lord High Constable of England."
"And he arrests Malvoisin," said the King, raising his visor, "by the order 
of Richard Plantagenet, here present. - Conrade Mont-Fitchet, it is well 
for thee thou art born no subject of mine. - But for thee, Malvoisin, thou 
diest with thy brother Philip, ere the world be a week older."
"I will resist thy doom," said the Grand Master.
"Proud Templar," said the King, "thou canst not - look up, and behold the 
Royal Standard of England floats over thy towers instead of thy Temple 
banner! - Be wise, Beaumanoir, and make no bootless opposition - Thy hand 
is in the lion's mouth."
"I will appeal to Rome against thee," said the Grand Master, "for 
usurpation on the immunities and privileges of our Order."
"Be it so," said the King; "but for thine own sake tax me not with 
usurpation now. Dissolve thy chapter, and depart with thy followers to thy 
next Preceptory, (if thou canst find one), which has not been made the 
scene of treasonable conspiracy against the King of England - Or, if thou 
wilt, remain, to share our hospitality, and behold our justice."
"To be a guest in the house where I should command?" said the Templar; 
"never! - Chaplains, raise the Psalm, Quare fremuerunt Genies? - Knights, 
squires, and followers of the Holy Temple, prepare to follow the banner of 
Beau-seant!"
The Grand Master spoke with a dignity which confronted even that of 
England's king himself, and inspired courage into his surprised and 
dismayed followers. They gathered around him like the sheep around the 
watch-dog, when they hear the baying of the wolf. But they evinced not the 
timidity of the scared flock - there were dark brows of defiance, and looks 
which menaced the hostility they dared not to proffer in words. They drew 
together in a dark line of spears, from which the white cloaks of the 
knights were visible among the dusky garments of their retainers, like the 
lighter-coloured edges of a sable cloud. The multitude, who had raised a 
clamorous shout of reprobation, paused and gazed in silence on the 
formidable and experienced body to which they had unwarily bade defiance, 
and shrunk back from their front.
The Earl of Essex, when he beheld them pause in their assembled force, 
dashed the rowels into his charger's sides, and galloped backwards and 
forwards to array his followers, in opposition to a band so formidable. 
Richard alone, as if he loved the danger his presence had provoked, rode 
slowly along the front of the Templars, calling aloud, "What, sirs! Among 
so many gallant knights, will none dare splinter a spear with Richard? - 
Sirs of the Temple! your ladies are but sun-burned, if they are not worth 
the shiver of a broken lance?"
"The Brethren of the Temple," said the Grand Master, riding forward in 
advance of their body, "fight not on such idle and profane quarrel - and 
not with thee, Richard of England, shall a Templar cross lance in my 
presence. The Pope and Princes of Europe shall judge our quarrel, and 
whether a Christian prince has done well in bucklering the cause which thou 
hast to-day adopted. If unassailed, we depart assailing no one. To thine 
honour we refer the armour and household goods of the Order which we leave 
behind us, and on thy conscience we lay the scandal and offence thou hast 
this day given to Christendom."
With these words, and without waiting a reply, the Grand Master gave the 
signal of departure. Their trumpets sounded a wild march, of an Oriental 
character, which formed the usual signal for the Templars to advance. They 
changed their array from a line to a column of march, and moved off as 
slowly as their horses could step, as if to show it was only the will of 
their Grand Master, and no fear of the opposing and superior force, which 
compelled them to withdraw.
"By the splendour of Our Lady's brow!" said King Richard, "it is pity of 
their lives that these Templars are not so trusty as they are disciplined 
and valiant."
The multitude, like a timid cur which waits to bark till the object of its 
challenge has turned his back, raised a feeble shout as the rear of the 
squadron left the ground.
During the tumult which attended the retreat of the Templars, Rebecca saw 
and heard nothing - she was locked in the arms of her aged father, giddy, 
and almost senseless, with the rapid change of circumstances around her. 
But one word from Isaac at length recalled her scattered feelings.
"Let us go," he said, "my dear daughter, my recovered treasure - let us go 
to throw ourselves at the feet of the good youth."
"Not so," said Rebecca, "O no - no - no - I must not at this moment dare to 
speak to him - Alas! I should say more than - No, my father, let us 
instantly leave this evil place."
"But, my daughter," said Isaac, "to leave him who hath come forth like a 
strong man with his spear and shield, holding his life as nothing, so he 
might redeem thy captivity; and thou, too, the daughter of a people strange 
unto him and his - this is service to be thankfully acknowledged."
"It is - it is - most thankfully - most devoutly acknowledged," said 
Rebecca - "it shall be still more so - but not now - for the sake of thy 
beloved Rachel, father, grant my request - not now!"
"Nay, but," said Isaac, insisting, "they will deem us more thankless than 
mere dogs!"
"But thou seest, my dear father, that King Richard is in presence, and that 
- "
"True, my best - my wisest Rebecca! - Let us hence - let us hence! - Money 
he will lack, for he has just returned from Palestine, and, as they say, 
from prison - and pretext for exacting it, should he need any, may arise 
out of my simple traffic with his brother John. Away, away, let us hence!"
And hurrying his daughter in his turn, he conducted her from the lists, and 
by means of conveyance which he had provided, transported her safely to the 
house of the Rabbi Nathan.
The Jewess, whose fortunes had formed the principal interest of the day, 
having now retired unobserved, the attention of the populace was 
transferred to the Black Knight. They now filled the air with "Long life to 
Richard with the Lion's Heart, and down with the usurping Templars!"
"Notwithstanding all this lip-loyalty," said Ivanhoe to the Earl of Essex, 
"it was well the King took the precaution to bring thee with him, noble 
Earl, and so many of thy trusty followers."
The Earl smiled and shook his head.
"Gallant Ivanhoe," said Essex, "dost thou know our Master so well, and yet 
suspect him of taking so wise a precaution! I was drawing towards York 
having heard that Prince John was making head there, when I met King 
Richard, like a true knight-errant, galloping hither to achieve in his own 
person this adventure of the Templar and the Jewess, with his own single 
arm. I accompanied him with my band, almost maugre his consent."
"And what news from York, brave Earl?" said Ivanhoe; "will the rebels bide 
us there?"
"No more than December's snow will bide July's sun," said the Earl; "they 
are dispersing; and who should come posting to bring us the news, but John 
himself!"
"The traitor! the ungrateful insolent traitor!" said Ivanhoe; "did not 
Richard order him into confinement?"
"O! he received him," answered the Earl, "as if they had met after a 
hunting party; and, pointing to me and our men-at-arms, said, 'Thou seest, 
brother, I have some angry men with me - thou wert best go to our mother, 
carry her my duteous affection, and abide with her until men's minds are 
pacified.' "
"And this was all he said?" enquired Ivanhoe; "would not any one say that 
this Prince invites men to treason by his clemency?"
"Just," replied the Earl, "as the man may be said to invite death, who 
undertakes to fight a combat, having a dangerous wound unhealed."
"I forgive thee the jest, Lord Earl," said Ivanhoe; "but, remember, I 
hazarded but my own life - Richard, the welfare of his kingdom."
"Those," replied Essex, "who are specially careless of their own welfare, 
are seldom remarkably attentive to that of others - But let us haste to the 
castle, for Richard meditates punishing some of the subordinate members of 
the conspiracy, though he has pardoned their principal."
From the judicial investigations which followed on this occasion, and which 
are given at length in the Wardour Manuscript, it appears that Maurice de 
Bracy escaped beyond seas, and went into the service of Philip of France; 
while Philip de Malvoisin, and his brother Albert, the Preceptor of 
Templestowe, were executed, although Waldemar Fitzurse, the soul of the 
conspiracy, escaped with banishment; and Prince John, for whose behoof it 
was undertaken, was not even censured by his good-natured brother. No one, 
however, pitied the fate of the two Malvoisins, who only suffered the death 
which they had both well deserved, by many acts of falsehood, cruelty, and 
oppression.
Briefly after the judicial combat, Cedric the Saxon was summoned to the 
court of Richard, which, for the purpose of quieting the counties that had 
been disturbed by the ambition of his brother, was then held at York. 
Cedric tushed and pshawed more than once at the message - but he refused 
not obedience. In fact, the return of Richard had quenched every hope that 
he had entertained of restoring a Saxon dynasty in England; for, whatever 
head the Saxons might have made in the event of a civil war, it was plain 
that nothing could be done under the undisputed dominion of Richard, 
popular as he was by his personal good qualities and military fame, 
although his administration was wilfully careless, now too indulgent, and 
now allied to despotism.
But, moreover, it could not escape even Cedric's reluctant observation, 
that his project for an absolute union among the Saxons, by the marriage of 
Rowena and Athelstane, was now completely at an end, by the mutual dissent 
of both parties concerned. This was, indeed, an event which, in his ardour 
for the Saxon cause, he could not have anticipated, and even when the 
disinclination of both was broadly and plainly manifested, he could scarce 
bring himself to believe that two Saxons of royal descent should scruple, 
on personal grounds, at an alliance so necessary for the public weal of the 
nation. But it was not the less certain: Rowena had always expressed her 
repugnance to Athelstane, and now Athelstane was no less plain and positive 
in proclaiming his resolution never to pursue his addresses to the Lady 
Rowena. Even the natural obstinacy of Cedric sunk beneath these obstacles, 
where he, remaining on the point of junction, had the task of dragging a 
reluctant pair up to it, one with each hand. He made, however, a last 
vigorous attack on Athelstane, and he found that resuscitated sprout of 
Saxon royalty engaged, like country squires of our own day, in a furious 
war with the clergy.
It seems that, after all his deadly menaces against the Abbot of Saint 
Edmund's, Athelstane's spirit of revenge, what between the natural indolent 
kindness of his own disposition, what through the prayers of his mother 
Edith, attached, like most ladies, (of the period,) to the clerical order, 
had terminated in his keeping the Abbot and his monks in the dungeons of 
Coningsburgh for three days on a meagre diet. For this atrocity the Abbot 
menaced him with excommunication, and made out a dreadful list of 
complaints in the bowels and stomach, suffered by himself and his monks, in 
consequence of the tyrannical and unjust imprisonment they had sustained. 
With this controversy, and with the means he had adopted to counteract this 
clerical persecution, Cedric found the mind of his friend Athelstane so 
fully occupied, that it had no room for another idea. And when Rowena's 
name was mentioned the noble Athelstane prayed leave to quaff a full goblet 
to her health, and that she might soon be the bride of his kinsman Wilfred. 
It was a desperate case therefore. There was obviously no more to be made 
of Athelstane; or, as Wamba expressed it, in a phrase which has descended 
from Saxon times to ours, he was a cock that would not fight.
There remained betwixt Cedric and the determination which the lovers 
desired to come to, only two obstacles - his own obstinacy, and his dislike 
of the Norman dynasty. The former feeling gradually gave way before the 
endearments of his ward, and the pride which he could not help nourishing 
in the fame of his son. Besides, he was not insensible to the honour of 
allying his own line to that of Alfred, when the superior claims of the 
descendant of Edward the Confessor were abandoned for ever. Cedric's 
aversion to the Norman race of kings was also much undermined, - first, by 
consideration of the impossibility of ridding England of the new dynasty, a 
feeling which goes far to create loyalty in the subject to the king de 
facto; and, secondly, by the personal attention of King Richard, who 
delighted in the blunt humour of Cedric, and, to use the language of the 
Wardour Manuscript, so dealt with the noble Saxon, that, ere he had been a 
guest at court for seven days, he had given his consent to the marriage of 
his ward Rowena and his son Wilfred of Ivanhoe.
The nuptials of our hero, thus formally approved by his father, were 
celebrated in the most august of temples, the noble Minster of York. The 
King himself attended, and from the countenance which he afforded on this 
and other occasions to the distressed and hitherto degraded Saxons, gave 
them a safer and more certain prospect of attaining their just rights, than 
they could reasonably hope from the precarious chance of a civil war. The 
Church gave her full solemnities, graced with all the splendour which she 
of Rome knows how to apply with such brilliant effect.
Gurth, gallantly apparelled, attended as esquire upon his young master whom 
he had served so faithfully, and the magnanimous Wamba, decorated with a 
new cap and a most gorgeous set of silver bells. Sharers of Wilfred's 
dangers and adversity, they remained, as they had a right to expect, the 
partakers of his more prosperous career.
But besides this domestic retinue, these distinguished nuptials were 
celebrated by the attendance of the high-born Normans, as well as Saxons, 
joined with the universal jubilee of the lower orders, that marked the 
marriage of two individuals as a pledge of the future peace and harmony 
betwixt two races, which, since that period, have been so completely 
mingled, that the distinction has become wholly invisible. Cedric lived to 
see this union approximate towards its completion; for as the two nations 
mixed in society and formed intermarriages with each other, the Normans 
abated their scorn, and the Saxons were refined from their rusticity. But 
it was not until the reign of Edward the Third that the mixed language, now 
termed English, was spoken at the court of London, and that the hostile 
distinction of Norman and Saxon seems entirely to have disappeared.
It was upon the second morning after this happy bridal, that the Lady 
Rowena was made acquainted by her handmaid Elgitha, that a damsel desired 
admission to her presence, and solicited that their parley might be without 
witness. Rowena wondered, hesitated, became curious, and ended by 
commanding the damsel to be admitted, and her attendants to withdraw.
She entered - a noble and commanding figure, the long white veil, in which 
she was shrouded, overshadowing rather than concealing the elegance and 
majesty of her shape. Her demeanour was that of respect, unmingled by the 
least shade either of fear, or of a wish to propitiate favour. Rowena was 
ever ready to acknowledge the claims, and attend to the feelings, of 
others. She arose, and would have conducted her lovely visitor to a seat; 
but the stranger looked at Elgitha, and again intimated a wish to discourse 
with the Lady Rowena alone. Elgitha had no sooner retired with unwilling 
steps, than, to the surprise of the Lady of Ivanhoe, her fair visitant 
kneeled on one knee, pressed her hands to her forehead, and bending her 
head to the ground, in spite of Rowena's resistance, kissed the embroidered 
hem of her tunic.
"What means this, lady?" said the surprised bride; "or why do you offer to 
me a deference so unusual?"
"Because to you, Lady of Ivanhoe," said Rebecca, rising up and resuming the 
usual quiet dignity of her manner, "I may lawfully, and without rebuke, pay 
the debt of gratitude which I owe to Wilfred of Ivanhoe. I am - forgive the 
boldness which has offered to you the homage of my country - I am the 
unhappy Jewess, for whom your husband hazarded his life against such 
fearful odds in the tiltyard of Templestowe."
"Damsel," said Rowena, "Wilfred of Ivanhoe on that day rendered back but in 
slight measure your unceasing charity towards him in his wounds and 
misfortunes. Speak, is there aught remains in which he or I can serve 
thee?"
"Nothing," said Rebecca, calmly, "unless you will transmit to him my 
grateful farewell."
"You leave England then?" said Rowena, scarce recovering the surprise of 
this extraordinary visit.
"I leave it, lady, ere this moon again changes. My father had a brother 
high in favour with Mohammed Boabdil, King of Grenada - thither we go, 
secure of peace and protection, for the payment of such ransom as the 
Moslem exact from our people."
"And are you not then as well protected in England?" said Rowena. "My 
husband has favour with the King - the King himself is just and generous."
"Lady," said Rebecca, "I doubt it not - but the people of England are a 
fierce race, quarrelling ever with their neighbours or among themselves, 
and ready to plunge the sword into the bowels of each other. Such is no 
safe abode for the children of my people. Ephraim is an heartless dove; 
Issachar an over-laboured drudge, which stoops between two burdens. Not in 
a land of war and blood, surrounded by hostile neighbours, and distracted 
by internal factions, can Israel hope to rest during her wanderings."
"But you, maiden," said Rowena - "you surely can have nothing to fear. She 
who nursed the sick-bed of Ivanhoe," she continued, rising with enthusiasm 
- "she can have nothing to fear in England, where Saxon and Norman will 
contend who shall most do her honour."
"Thy speech is fair, lady," said Rebecca, "and thy purpose fairer; but it 
may not be - there is a gulf betwixt us. Our breeding, our faith, alike 
forbid either to pass over it. Farewell - yet, ere I go indulge me one 
request. The bridal-veil hangs over thy face; deign to raise it, and let me 
see the features of which fame speaks so highly."
"They are scarce worthy of being looked upon," said Rowena; "but, expecting 
the same from my visitant, I remove the veil."
She took it off accordingly; and, partly from the consciousness of beauty, 
partly from bashfulness, she blushed so intensely, that cheek, brow, neck, 
and bosom, were suffused with crimson. Rebecca blushed also, but it was a 
momentary feeling; and, mastered by higher emotions, past slowly from her 
features like the crimson cloud, which changes colour when the sun sinks 
beneath the horizon.
"Lady," she said, "the countenance you have deigned to show me will long 
dwell in my remembrance. There reigns in it gentleness and goodness; and if 
a tinge of the world's pride or vanities may mix with an expression so 
lovely, how should we chide that which is of earth for bearing some colour 
of its original? Long, long will I remember your features, and bless God 
that I leave my noble deliverer united with - "
She stopped short - her eyes filled with tears. She hastily wiped them, and 
answered to the anxious enquiries of Rowena - "I am well, lady - well. But 
my heart swells when I think of Torquilstone and the lists of Templestowe. 
- Farewell. One, the most trifling part of my duty, remains undischarged. 
Accept this casket - startle not at its contents."
Rowena opened the small silver-chased casket, and perceived a carcanet, or 
neck lace, with ear-jewels, of diamonds, which were obviously of immense 
value.
"It is impossible," she said, tendering back the casket. "I dare not accept 
a gift of such consequence."
"Yet keep it, lady," returned Rebecca. - "You have power, rank, command, 
influence; we have wealth, the source both of our strength and weakness; 
the value of these toys, ten times multiplied, would not influence half so 
much as your slightest wish. To you, therefore, the gift is of little 
value, - and to me, what I part with is of much less. Let me not think you 
deem so wretchedly ill of my nation as your commons believe. Think ye that 
I prize these sparkling fragments of stone above my liberty? or that my 
father values them in comparison to the honour of his only child? Accept 
them, lady - to me they are valueless. I will never wear jewels more."
"You are then unhappy!" said Rowena, struck with the manner in which 
Rebecca uttered the last words. "O, remain with us - the counsel of holy 
men will wean you from your erring law, and I will be a sister to you."
"No, lady," answered Rebecca, the same calm melancholy reigning in her soft 
voice and beautiful features - "that - may not be. I may not change the 
faith of my fathers like a garment unsuited to the climate in which I seek 
to dwell, and unhappy, lady, I will not be. He, to whom I dedicate my 
future life, will be my comforter, if I do His will."
"Have you then convents, to one of which you mean to retire?" asked Rowena.
"No, lady," said the Jewess; "but among our people, since the time of 
Abraham downwards, have been women who have devoted their thoughts to 
Heaven, and their actions to works of kindness to men, tending the sick, 
feeding the hungry, and relieving the distressed. Among these will Rebecca 
be numbered. Say this to thy lord, should he chance to enquire after the 
fate of her whose life he saved."
There was an involuntary tremor on Rebecca's voice, and a tenderness of 
accent, which perhaps betrayed more than she would willingly have 
expressed. She hastened to bid Rowena adieu.
"Farewell," she said. "May He, who made both Jew and Christian, shower down 
on you his choicest blessings! The bark that waits us hence will be under 
weigh ere we can reach the port."
She glided from the apartment, leaving Rowena surprised as if a vision had 
passed before her. The fair Saxon related the singular conference to her 
husband, on whose mind it made a deep impression. He lived long and happily 
with Rowena, for they were attached to each other by the bonds of early 
affection, and they loved each other the more, from the recollection of the 
obstacles which had impeded their union. Yet it would be enquiring too 
curiously to ask, whether the recollection of Rebecca's beauty and 
magnanimity did not recur to his mind more frequently than the fair 
descendant of Alfred might altogether have approved.
Ivanhoe distinguished himself in the service of Richard, and was graced 
with farther marks of the royal favour. He might have risen still higher, 
but for the premature death of the heroic Coeur-de-Lion, before the Castle 
of Chaluz, near Limoges. With the life of a generous, but rash and romantic 
monarch, perished all the projects which his ambition and his generosity 
had formed; to whom may be applied, with a slight alteration, the lines 
composed by Johnson for Charles of Sweden -

		His fate was destined to a foreign strand,
		A petty fortress and an "humble" hand;
		He left the name at which the world grew pale,
		To point a moral, or adorn a tale.

THE END