Ivanhoe, by Sir Walter Scott

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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 stript 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 scarfs, 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

* _Beau-seant_ was the name of the Templars' banner, which
* was half black, half white, to intimate, it is said, that they were
* candid and fair towards Christians, but black and terrible towards
* infidels.

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-Buf 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-Buf. 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-Buf
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-Buf 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-Buf 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-Buf, 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 XIII

``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-Buf 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-Buf.''

``Front-de-Buf,'' 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.''