Ivanhoe, by Sir Walter Scott

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However unacceptable these sounds might be to
Prince John, and to those around him, he saw himself
nevertheless obliged to confirm the nomination
of the victor, and accordingly calling to horse, he
left his throne; and mounting his jennet, accompanied
by his train, he again entered the lists.
The Prince paused a moment beneath the gallery
of the Lady Alicia, to whom he paid his compliments,
observing, at the same time, to those around
him---``By my halidome, sirs! if the Knight's feats
in arms have shown that he hath limbs and sinews,
his choice hath no less proved that his eyes are none
of the clearest.''

It was on this occasion, as during his whole life,
John's misfortune, not perfectly to understand the
characters of those whom he wished to conciliate.
Waldemar Fitzurse was rather offended than pleased
at the Prince stating thus broadly an opinion,
that his daughter had been slighted.

``I know no right of chivalry,'' he said, ``more
precious or inalienable than that of each free knight
to choose his lady-love by his own judgment. My
daughter courts distinction from no one; and in her
own character, and in her own sphere, will never
fail to receive the full proportion of that which is
her due.''

Prince John replied not; but, spurring his horse,
as if to give vent to his vexation, he made the animal
bound forward to the gallery where Rowena
was seated, with the crown still at her feet.

``Assume,'' he said, ``fair lady, the mark of your
sovereignty, to which none vows homage more sincerely
than ourself, John of Anjou; and if it please
you to-day, with your noble sire and friends, to
grace our banquet in the Castle of Ashby, we shall
learn to know the empress to whose service we devote
to-morrow.''

Rowena remained silent, and Cedric answered
for her in his native Saxon.

``The Lady Rowena,'' he said, ``possesses not
the language in which to reply to your courtesy, or
to sustain her part in your festival. I also, and the
noble Athelstane of Coningsburgh, speak only the
language, and practise only the manners, of our
fathers. We therefore decline with thanks your
Highness's courteous invitation to the banquet.
To-morrow, the Lady Rowena will take upon her
the state to which she has been called by the free
election of the victor Knight, confirmed by the acclamations
of the people.''

So saying, he lifted the coronet, and placed it
upon Rowena's head, in token of her acceptance of
the temporary authority assigned to her.

``What says he?'' said Prince John, affecting
not to understand the Saxon language, in which,
however, he was well skilled. The purport of Cedric's
speech was repeated to him in French. ``It
is well,'' he said; ``to-morrow we will ourself conduct
this mute sovereign to her seat of dignity.--
You, at least, Sir Knight,'' he added, turning to the
victor, who had remained near the gallery, ``will
this day share our banquet?''

The Knight, speaking for the first time, in a
low and hurried voice, excused himself by pleading
fatigue, and the necessity of preparing for to-morrow's
encounter.

``It is well,'' said Prince John, haughtily; ``although
unused to such refusals, we will endeavour
to digest our banquet as we may, though ungraced
by the most successful in arms, and his elected
Queen of Beauty.''

So saying, he prepared to leave the lists with his
glittering train, and his turning his steed for that
purpose, was the signal for the breaking up and
dispersion of the spectators.

Yet, with the vindictive memory proper to offended
pride, especially when combined with conscious
want of desert, John had hardly proceeded
three paces, ere again, turning around, he fixed an
eye of stern resentment upon the yeoman who had
displeased him in the early part of the day, and
issued his commands to the men-at-arms who stood
near---``On your life, suffer not that fellow to
escape.''

The yeoman stood the angry glance of the Prince
with the same unvaried steadiness which had marked
his former deportment, saying, with a smile, ``I
have no intention to leave Ashby until the day after
to-morrow---I must see how Staffordshire and
Leicestershire can draw their bows---the forests of
Needwood and Charnwood must rear good archers.''

``l,'' said Prince John to his attendants, but not
in direct reply,---``I will see how he can draw his
own; and woe betide him unless his skill should
prove some apology for his insolence!''

``It is full time,'' said De Bracy, ``that the _outrecuidance_*

* Presumption, insolence.

of these peasants should be restrained by
some striking example.''

Waldemar Fitzurse, who probably thought his
patron was not taking the readiest road to popularity,
shrugged up his shoulders and was silent.
Prince John resumed his retreat from the lists, and
the dispersion of the multitude became general.

In various routes, according to the different quarters
from which they came, and in groups of various
numbers, the spectators were seen retiring over the
plain. By far the most numerous part streamed
towards the town of Ashby, where many of the
distinguished persons were lodged in the castle, and
where others found accommodation in the town
itself. Among these were most of the knights who
had already appeared in the tournament, or who
proposed to fight there the ensuing day, and who,
as they rode slowly along, talking over the events
of the day, were greeted with loud shouts by the
populace. The same acclamations were bestowed
upon Prince John, although he was indebted for
them rather to the splendour of his appearance and
train, than to the popularity of his character.

A more sincere and more general, as well as a
better-merited acclamation, attended the victor of
the day, until, anxious to withdraw himself from
popular notice, he accepted the accommodation of
one of those pavilions pitched at the extremities of
the lists, the use of which was courteously tendered
him by the marshals of the field. On his retiring
to his tent, many who had lingered in the lists, to
look upon and form conjectures concerning him,
also dispersed.

The signs and sounds of a tumultuous concourse
of men lately crowded together in one place, and
agitated by the same passing events, were now exchanged
for the distant hum of voices of different
groups retreating in all directions, and these speedily
died away in silence. No other sounds were
heard save the voices of the menials who stripped
the galleries of their cushions and tapestry, in order
to put them in safety for the night, and wrangled
among themselves for the half-used bottles of
wine and relics of the refreshment which had been
served round to the spectators.

Beyond the precincts of the lists more than one
forge was erected; and these now began to glimmer
through the twilight, announcing the toil of
the armourers, which was to continue through the
whole night, in order to repair or alter the suits of
armour to be used again on the morrow.

A strong guard of men-at-arms, renewed at intervals,
from two hours to two hours, surrounded
the lists, and kept watch during the night.

CHAPTER X

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

The Disinherited Knight had no sooner reached
his pavilion, than squires and pages in abundance
tendered their services to disarm him, to bring fresh
attire, and to offer him the refreshment of the bath.
Their zeal on this occasion was perhaps sharpened
by curiosity, since every one desired to know who
the knight was that had gained so many laurels,
yet had refused, even at the command of Prince
John, to lift his visor or to name his name. But
their officious inquisitiveness was not gratified. The
Disinherited Knight refused all other assistance
save that of his own squire, or rather yeoman---a
clownish-looking man, who, wrapt in a cloak of
dark-coloured felt, and having his head and face
half-buried in a Norman bonnet made of black fur,
seemed to affect the incognito as much as his master.
All others being excluded from the tent, this
attendant relieved his master from the more burdensome
parts of his armour, and placed food and
wine before him, which the exertions of the day
rendered very acceptable.

The Knight had scarcely finished a hasty meal,
ere his menial announced to him that five men, each
leading a barbed steed, desired to speak with him.
The Disinherited Knight had exchanged his armour
for the long robe usually worn by those of his condition,
which, being furnished with a hood, concealed
the features, when such was the pleasure of
the wearer, almost as completely as the visor of the
helmet itself, but the twilight, which was now fast
darkening, would of itself have rendered a disguise
unnecessary, unless to persons to whom the face of
an individual chanced to be particularly well known.

The Disinherited Knight, therefore, stept boldly
forth to the front of his tent, and found in attendance
the squires of the challengers, whom he
easily knew by their russet and black dresses, each
of whom led his master's charger, loaded with the
armour in which he had that day fought.

``According to the laws of chivalry,'' said the
foremost of these men, ``I, Baldwin de Oyley,
squire to the redoubted Knight Brian de Bois-Guilbert,
make offer to you, styling yourself, for the
present, the Disinherited Knight, of the horse and
armour used by the said Brian de Bois-Guilbert in
this day's Passage of Arms, leaving it with your
nobleness to retain or to ransom the same, according
to your pleasure; for such is the law of arms.''

The other squires repeated nearly the same formula,
and then stood to await the decision of the
Disinherited Knight.

``To you four, sirs,'' replied the Knight, addressing
those who had last spoken, ``and to your honourable
and valiant masters, I have one common
reply. Commend me to the noble knights, your
masters, and say, I should do ill to deprive them
of steeds and arms which can never be used by
braver cavaliers.---I would I could here end my
message to these gallant knights; but being, as I
term myself, in truth and earnest, the Disinherited,
I must be thus far bound to your masters, that they
will, of their courtesy, be pleased to ransom their
steeds and armour, since that which I wear I can
hardly term mine own.''

``We stand commissioned, each of us,'' answered
the squire of Reginald Front-de-Buf, ``to offer
a hundred zecchins in ransom of these horses and
suits of armour.''

``It is sufficient,'' said the Disinherited Knight.
``Half the sum my present necessities compel me
to accept; of the remaining half, distribute one
moiety among yourselves, sir squires, and divide
the other half betwixt the heralds and the pursuivants,
and minstrels, and attendants.''

The squires, with cap in hand, and low reverences,
expressed their deep sense of a courtesy and
generosity not often practised, at least upon a scale
so extensive. The Disinherited Knight then addressed
his discourse to Baldwin, the squire of Brian
de Bois-Guilbert. ``From your master,'' said he,
``I will accept neither arms nor ransom. Say to
him in my name, that our strife is not ended---no,
not till we have fought as well with swords as with
lances---as well on foot as on horseback. To this
mortal quarrel he has himself defied me, and I shall
not forget the challenge.---Meantime, let him be
assured, that I hold him not as one of his companions,
with whom I can with pleasure exchange
courtesies; but rather as one with whom I stand
upon terms of mortal defiance.''

``My master,'' answered Baldwin, ``knows how
to requite scorn with scorn, and blows with blows,
as well as courtesy with courtesy, Since you disdain
to accept from him any share of the ransom at
which you have rated the arms of the other knights,
I must leave his armour and his horse here, being
well assured that he will never deign to mount the
one nor wear the other.''

``You have spoken well, good squire,'' said the
Disinherited Knight, ``well and boldly, as it beseemeth
him to speak who answers for an absent
master. Leave not, however, the horse and armour
here. Restore them to thy master; or, if he scorns
to accept them, retain them, good friend, for thine
own use. So far as they are mine, I bestow them
upon you freely.''

Baldwin made a deep obeisance, and retired with
his companions; and the Disinherited Knight entered
the pavilion.

``Thus far, Gurth,'' said he, addressing his attendant,
``the reputation of English chivalry hath
not suffered in my hands.''

``And I,'' said Gurth, ``for a Saxon swineherd,
have not ill played the personage of a Norman
squire-at-arms.''

``Yea, but,'' answered the Disinherited Knight,
thou hast ever kept me in anxiety lest thy clownish
bearing should discover thee.''
``Tush!'' said Gurth, ``I fear discovery from
none, saving my playfellow, Wamba the Jester, of
whom I could never discover whether he were most
knave or fool. Yet I could scarce choose but laugh,
when my old master passed so near to me, dreaming
all the while that Gurth was keeping his porkers
many a mile off, in the thickets and swamps of
Rotherwood. If I am discovered------''

``Enough,'' said the Disinherited Knight, ``thou
knowest my promise.''

``Nay, for that matter,'' said Gurth, ``I will
never fail my friend for fear of my skin-cutting. I
have a tough hide, that will bear knife or scourge
as well as any boar's hide in my herd.''

``Trust me, I will requite the risk you run for
my love, Gurth,'' said the Knight. ``Meanwhile,
I pray you to accept these ten pieces of gold.''

``I am richer,'' said Gurth, putting them into his
pouch, ``than ever was swineherd or bondsman.''

``Take this bag of gold to Ashby,'' continued
his master, ``and find out Isaac the Jew of York,
and let him pay himself for the horse and arms with
which his credit supplied me.''

``Nay, by St Dunstan,'' replied Gurth, ``that I
will not do.''

``How, knave,'' replied his master, ``wilt thou
not obey my commands?''

``So they be honest, reasonable, and Christian
commands,'' replied Gurth; ``but this is none of
these. To suffer the Jew to pay himself would be
dishonest, for it would be cheating my master; and
unreasonable, for it were the part of a fool; and unchristian,
since it would be plundering a believer
to enrich an infidel.''

``See him contented, however, thou stubborn
varlet,'' said the Disinherited Knight.

``I will do so,'' said Gurth, taking the bag under
his cloak, and leaving the apartment; ``and it
will go hard,'' he muttered, ``but I content him
with one-half of his own asking.'' So saying, he
departed, and left the Disinherited Knight to his
own perplexed ruminations; which, upon more accounts
than it is now possible to communicate to
the reader, were of a nature peculiarly agitating
and painful.
We must now change the scene to the village of
Ashby, or rather to a country house in its vicinity
belonging to a wealthy Israelite, with whom Isaac,
his daughter, and retinue, had taken up their quarters;
the Jews, it is well known, being as liberal
in exercising the duties of hospitality and charity
among their own people, as they were alleged to
be reluctant and churlish in extending them to those
whom they termed Gentiles, and whose treatment
of them certainly merited little hospitality at their
hand.

In an apartment, small indeed, but richly furnished
with decorations of an Oriental taste, Rebecca
was seated on a heap of embroidered cushions,
which, piled along a low platform that surrounded
the chamber, served, like the estrada of the Spaniards,
instead of chairs and stools. She was watching
the motions of her father with a look of anxious
and filial affection, while he paced the apartment
with a dejected mien and disordered step; sometimes
clasping his hands together---sometimes casting
his eyes to the roof of the apartment, as one
who laboured under great mental tribulation. ``O,
Jacob!'' he exclaimed---``O, all ye twelve Holy
Fathers of our tribe! what a losing venture is this
for one who hath duly kept every jot and tittle of
the law of Moses---Fifty zecchins wrenched from
me at one clutch, and by the talons of a tyrant!''

``But, father,'' said Rebecca, ``you seemed to
give the gold to Prince John willingly.''

``Willingly? the blotch of Egypt upon him!---
Willingly, saidst thou?---Ay, as willingly as when,
in the Gulf of Lyons, I flung over my merchandise
to lighten the ship, while she laboured in the
tempest---robed the seething billows in my choice
silks---perfumed their briny foam with myrrh and
aloes---enriched their caverns with gold and silver
work! And was not that an hour of unutterable
misery, though my own hands made the sacrifice?''

``But it was a sacrifice which Heaven exacted
to save our lives,'' answered Rebecca, ``and the
God of our fathers has since blessed your store and
your gettings.''

``Ay,'' answered Isaac, ``but if the tyrant lays
hold on them as he did to-day, and compels me to
smile while he is robbing me?---O, daughter, disinherited
and wandering as we are, the worst evil
which befalls our race is, that when we are wronged
and plundered, all the world laughs around, and we
are compelled to suppress our sense of injury, and
to smile tamely, when we would revenge bravely.''

``Think not thus of it, my father,'' said Rebecca;
``we also have advantages. These Gentiles, cruel
and oppressive as they are, are in some sort dependent
on the dispersed children of Zion, whom
they despise and persecute. Without the aid of
our wealth, they could neither furnish forth their
hosts in war, nor their triumphs in peace, and the
gold which we lend them returns with increase to
our coffers. We are like the herb which flourisheth
most when it is most trampled on. Even this day's
pageant had not proceeded without the consent of
the despised Jew, who furnished the means.''

``Daughter,'' said Isaac, ``thou hast harped upon
another string of sorrow. The goodly steed and
the rich armour, equal to the full profit of my
adventure with our Kirjath Jairam of Leicester---
there is a dead loss too---ay, a loss which swallows
up the gains of a week; ay, of the space between
two Sabaoths---and yet it may end better than I
now think, for 'tis a good youth.''

``Assuredly,'' said Rebecca, ``you shall not repent
you of requiting the good deed received of the
stranger knight.''

``I trust so, daughter,'' said Isaac, ``and I trust
too in the rebuilding of Zion; but as well do I
hope with my own bodily eyes to see the walls and
battlements of the new Temple, as to see a Christian,
yea, the very best of Christians, repay a debt
to a Jew, unless under the awe of the judge and
jailor.''

So saying, he resumed his discontented walk
through the apartment; and Rebecca, perceiving
that her attempts at consolation only served to
awaken new subjects of complaint, wisely desisted
from her unavailing efforts---a prudential line of
conduct, and we recommend to all who set up for
comforters and advisers, to follow it in the like circumstances.

The evening was now becoming dark, when a
Jewish servant entered the apartment, and placed
upon the table two silver lamps, fed with perfumed
oil; the richest wines, and the most delicate refreshments,
were at the same time displayed by
another Israelitish domestic on a small ebony table,
inlaid with silver; for, in the interior of their
houses, the Jews refused themselves no expensive
indulgences. At the same time the servant informed
Isaac, that a Nazarene (so they termed
Christians, while conversing among themselves)
desired to speak with him. He that would live by
traffic, must hold himself at the disposal of every
one claiming business with him. Isaac at once replaced
on the table the untasted glass of Greek
wine which he had just raised to his lips, and saying
hastily to his daughter, ``Rebecca, veil thyself,''
commanded the stranger to be admitted.

Just as Rebecca had dropped over her fine features
a screen of silver gauze which reached to her
feet, the door opened, and Gurth entered, wrapt in
the ample folds of his Norman mantle. His appearance
was rather suspicious than prepossessing,
especially as, instead of doffing his bonnet, he pulled
it still deeper over his rugged brow.

``Art thou Isaac the Jew of York?'' said Gurth,
in Saxon.

``I am,'' replied Isaac, in the same language,
(for his traffic had rendered every tongue spoken
in Britain familiar to him)---``and who art thou?''

``That is not to the purpose,'' answered Gurth.

``As much as my name is to thee,'' replied Isaac;
``for without knowing thine, how can I hold intercourse
with thee?''

``Easily,'' answered Gurth; ``I, being to pay
money, must know that I deliver it to the right
person; thou, who are to receive it, will not, I
think, care very greatly by whose hands it is delivered.''

``O,'' said the Jew, ``you are come to pay moneys?
---Holy Father Abraham! that altereth our
relation to each other. And from whom dost thou
bring it?''

``From the Disinherited Knight,'' said Gurth,
``victor in this day's tournament. It is the price
of the armour supplied to him by Kirjath Jairam
of Leicester, on thy recommendation. The steed
is restored to thy stable. I desire to know the
amount of the sum which I am to pay for the
armour.''

``I said he was a good youth!'' exclaimed Isaac
with joyful exultation. ``A cup of wine will do
thee no harm,'' he added, filling and handing to the
swineherd a richer drought than Gurth had ever
before tasted. "And how much money,'' continued
Isaac, ``has thou brought with thee?''

``Holy Virgin!'' said Gurth, setting down the
cup, ``what nectar these unbelieving dogs drink,
while true Christians are fain to quaff ale as muddy
and thick as the draff we give to hogs!---What
money have I brought with me?'' continued the
Saxon, when he had finished this uncivil ejaculation,
``even but a small sum; something in hand
the whilst. What, Isaac! thou must bear a conscience,
though it be a Jewish one.''

``Nay, but,'' said Isaac, ``thy master has won
goodly steeds and rich armours with the strength
of his lance, and of his right hand---but 'tis a good
youth---the Jew will take these in present payment,
and render him back the surplus.''

``My master has disposed of them already,'' said
Gurth.

``Ah! that was wrong,'' said the Jew, ``that
was the part of a fool. No Christians here could
buy so many horses and armour---no Jew except
myself would give him half the values. But thou
hast a hundred zecchins with thee in that bag,'' said
Isaac, prying under Gurth's cloak, ``it is a heavy
one.''

``I have heads for cross-bow bolts in it,'' said
Gurth, readily.

``Well, then''---said Isaac, panting and hesitating
between habitual love of gain and a new-born desire
to be liberal in the present instance, ``if I should
say that I would take eighty zecchins for the good
steed and the rich armour, which leaves me not a
guilder's profit, have you money to pay me?''

``Barely,'' said Gurth, though the sum demanded
was more reasonable than he expected, ``and it
will leave my master nigh penniless. Nevertheless,
if such be your least offer, I must be content.''

``Fill thyself another goblet of wine,'' said the
Jew. ``Ah! eighty zecchins is too little. It leaveth
no profit for the usages of the moneys; and, besides,
the good horse may have suffered wrong in
this day's encounter. O, it was a hard and a dangerous
meeting! man and steed rushing on each
other like wild bulls of Bashan! The horse cannot
but have had wrong.''

``And I say,'' replied Gurth, ``he is sound, wind
and limb; and you may see him now, in your stable.
And I say, over and above, that seventy zecchins
is enough for the armour, and I hope a Christian's
word is as good as a Jew's. If you will not take
seventy, I will carry this bag'' (and he shook it till
the contents jingled) ``back to my master.''

``Nay, nay!'' said Isaac; ``lay down the talents
---the shekels---the eighty zecchins, and thou shalt
see I will consider thee liberally.''

Gurth at length complied; and telling out eighty
zecchins upon the table, the Jew delivered out to
him an acquittance for the horse and suit of armour.
The Jew's hand trembled for joy as he wrapped up
the first seventy pieces of gold. The last ten he
told over with much deliberation, pausing, and saying
something as he took each piece from the table,
and dropt it into his purse. It seemed as if his
avarice were struggling with his better nature, and
compelling him to pouch zecchin after zecchin while
his generosity urged him to restore some part at
least to his benefactor, or as a donation to his agent.
His whole speech ran nearly thus:

``Seventy-one---seventy-two; thy master is a
good youth---seventy-three, an excellent youth---
seventy-four---that piece hath been clipt within the
ring---seventy-five---and that looketh light of weight
---seventy-six---when thy master wants money, let
him come to Isaac of York---seventy-seven---that
is, with reasonable security.'' Here he made a considerable
pause, and Gurth had good hope that the
last three pieces might escape the fate of their comrades;
but the enumeration proceeded.---``Seventy-eight---
thou art a good fellow---seventy-nine---
and deservest something for thyself------''