Ivanhoe, by Sir Walter Scott

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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-Buf,
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-Buf 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-Buf, ``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 redhanded 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-Buf,
``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-Buf; ``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-Buf; ``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, saidst 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-Buf.
``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-Buf!''

``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-Buf; ``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-Buf;
``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-Buf, 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 weatherbeaten 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 XXVI

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-Buf, 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-Buf,
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-Buf
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-Buf; ``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-Buf aside ``Knowest thou the
priest?''

``He is a stranger from a distant convent,'' I said
Front-de-Buf; ``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-Buf. 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---quaso, 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.''