Ivanhoe, by Sir Walter Scott

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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 bartisan, 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 dowery, 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 dowery.---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 ingulfs 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 batoon of Grand
Master. The poor soldiers of the Temple will not
alone place their foot upon the necks of kings---a
hemp-sandall'd 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 XXV

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

* I wish the Prior had also informed them when Niobe was
* sainted. Probably during that enlightened period when
*
* ``Pan to Moses lent his pagan horn.''
* L. T.

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-Buf? 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-Buf 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-Buf,
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-Buf---``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-Buf, ``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-Buf, 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-Buf, 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.''