Ivanhoe, by Sir Walter Scott

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``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 mayest
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 dropt 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 gaberdine.
``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 VII

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,
Cur-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 enclosed 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 enclosure 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 silvan man, or in some
other fantastic dress, according to the taste of his
master, and the character he was pleased to assume
daring the game.* The central pavilion, as the

* This sort of masquerade is supposed to have occasioned the
* introduction of supporters into the science of heraldry.

place of honour, had been assigned to Brian be Bois-Guilbert,
whose renown in all games of chivalry,
no less than his connexions 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-Buf 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 Beault 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 gaberdine 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 comer, 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.