Ivanhoe: A Romance

by Walter Scott

  CHAPTER XXIII

  Nay, if the gentle spirit of moving words Can no way change you to a milder form, I'll woo you, like a soldier, at arms' end, And love you 'gainst the nature of love, force you. --Two Gentlemen of Verona

  The apartment to which the Lady Rowena had been introduced was fittedup with some rude attempts at ornament and magnificence, and her beingplaced there might be considered as a peculiar mark of respect notoffered to the other prisoners. But the wife of Front-de-Boeuf, for whomit had been originally furnished, was long dead, and decay and neglecthad impaired the few ornaments with which her taste had adorned it.The tapestry hung down from the walls in many places, and in otherswas tarnished and faded under the effects of the sun, or tattered anddecayed by age. Desolate, however, as it was, this was the apartment ofthe castle which had been judged most fitting for the accommodationof the Saxon heiress; and here she was left to meditate upon her fate,until the actors in this nefarious drama had arranged the several partswhich each of them was to perform. This had been settled in a councilheld by Front-de-Boeuf, De Bracy, and the Templar, in which, aftera long and warm debate concerning the several advantages which eachinsisted upon deriving from his peculiar share in this audaciousenterprise, they had at length determined the fate of their unhappyprisoners.

  It was about the hour of noon, therefore, when De Bracy, for whoseadvantage the expedition had been first planned, appeared to prosecutehis views upon the hand and possessions of the Lady Rowena.

  The interval had not entirely been bestowed in holding council with hisconfederates, for De Bracy had found leisure to decorate his personwith all the foppery of the times. His green cassock and vizard werenow flung aside. His long luxuriant hair was trained to flow in quainttresses down his richly furred cloak. His beard was closely shaved, hisdoublet reached to the middle of his leg, and the girdle which securedit, and at the same time supported his ponderous sword, was embroideredand embossed with gold work. We have already noticed the extravagantfashion of the shoes at this period, and the points of Maurice deBracy's might have challenged the prize of extravagance with the gayest,being turned up and twisted like the horns of a ram. Such was the dressof a gallant of the period; and, in the present instance, that effectwas aided by the handsome person and good demeanour of the wearer, whosemanners partook alike of the grace of a courtier, and the frankness of asoldier.

  He saluted Rowena by doffing his velvet bonnet, garnished with a goldenbroach, representing St Michael trampling down the Prince of Evil. Withthis, he gently motioned the lady to a seat; and, as she still retainedher standing posture, the knight ungloved his right hand, and motionedto conduct her thither. But Rowena declined, by her gesture, theproffered compliment, and replied, "If I be in the presence ofmy jailor, Sir Knight--nor will circumstances allow me to thinkotherwise--it best becomes his prisoner to remain standing till shelearns her doom."

  "Alas! fair Rowena," returned De Bracy, "you are in presence of yourcaptive, not your jailor; and it is from your fair eyes that De Bracymust receive that doom which you fondly expect from him."

  "I know you not, sir," said the lady, drawing herself up with all thepride of offended rank and beauty; "I know you not--and the insolentfamiliarity with which you apply to me the jargon of a troubadour, formsno apology for the violence of a robber."

  "To thyself, fair maid," answered De Bracy, in his former tone--"tothine own charms be ascribed whate'er I have done which passed therespect due to her, whom I have chosen queen of my heart, and lodestarof my eyes."

  "I repeat to you, Sir Knight, that I know you not, and that no manwearing chain and spurs ought thus to intrude himself upon the presenceof an unprotected lady."

  "That I am unknown to you," said De Bracy, "is indeed my misfortune;yet let me hope that De Bracy's name has not been always unspoken, whenminstrels or heralds have praised deeds of chivalry, whether in thelists or in the battle-field."

  "To heralds and to minstrels, then, leave thy praise, Sir Knight,"replied Rowena, "more suiting for their mouths than for thine own; andtell me which of them shall record in song, or in book of tourney, thememorable conquest of this night, a conquest obtained over an old man,followed by a few timid hinds; and its booty, an unfortunate maiden,transported against her will to the castle of a robber?"

  "You are unjust, Lady Rowena," said the knight, biting his lips insome confusion, and speaking in a tone more natural to him than that ofaffected gallantry, which he had at first adopted; "yourself free frompassion, you can allow no excuse for the frenzy of another, althoughcaused by your own beauty."

  "I pray you, Sir Knight," said Rowena, "to cease a language so commonlyused by strolling minstrels, that it becomes not the mouth of knights ornobles. Certes, you constrain me to sit down, since you enter upon suchcommonplace terms, of which each vile crowder hath a stock that mightlast from hence to Christmas."

  "Proud damsel," said De Bracy, incensed at finding his gallant styleprocured him nothing but contempt--"proud damsel, thou shalt be asproudly encountered. Know then, that I have supported my pretensions toyour hand in the way that best suited thy character. It is meeter forthy humour to be wooed with bow and bill, than in set terms, and incourtly language."

  "Courtesy of tongue," said Rowena, "when it is used to veil churlishnessof deed, is but a knight's girdle around the breast of a base clown. Iwonder not that the restraint appears to gall you--more it were for yourhonour to have retained the dress and language of an outlaw, thanto veil the deeds of one under an affectation of gentle language anddemeanour."

  "You counsel well, lady," said the Norman; "and in the bold languagewhich best justifies bold action I tell thee, thou shalt never leavethis castle, or thou shalt leave it as Maurice de Bracy's wife. I amnot wont to be baffled in my enterprises, nor needs a Norman noblescrupulously to vindicate his conduct to the Saxon maiden whom hedistinguishes by the offer of his hand. Thou art proud, Rowena, and thouart the fitter to be my wife. By what other means couldst thou be raisedto high honour and to princely place, saving by my alliance? How elsewouldst thou escape from the mean precincts of a country grange, whereSaxons herd with the swine which form their wealth, to take thy seat,honoured as thou shouldst be, and shalt be, amid all in England that isdistinguished by beauty, or dignified by power?"

  "Sir Knight," replied Rowena, "the grange which you contemn hath beenmy shelter from infancy; and, trust me, when I leave it--should thatday ever arrive--it shall be with one who has not learnt to despise thedwelling and manners in which I have been brought up."

  "I guess your meaning, lady," said De Bracy, "though you may think itlies too obscure for my apprehension. But dream not, that Richard Coeurde Lion will ever resume his throne, far less that Wilfred of Ivanhoe,his minion, will ever lead thee to his footstool, to be there welcomedas the bride of a favourite. Another suitor might feel jealousy while hetouched this string; but my firm purpose cannot be changed by a passionso childish and so hopeless. Know, lady, that this rival is in my power,and that it rests but with me to betray the secret of his being withinthe castle to Front-de-Boeuf, whose jealousy will be more fatal thanmine."

  "Wilfred here?" said Rowena, in disdain; "that is as true as thatFront-de-Boeuf is his rival."

  De Bracy looked at her steadily for an instant.

  "Wert thou really ignorant of this?" said he; "didst thou not knowthat Wilfred of Ivanhoe travelled in the litter of the Jew?--a meetconveyance for the crusader, whose doughty arm was to reconquer the HolySepulchre!" And he laughed scornfully.

  "And if he is here," said Rowena, compelling herself to a tone ofindifference, though trembling with an agony of apprehension which shecould not suppress, "in what is he the rival of Front-de-Boeuf? or whathas he to fear beyond a short imprisonment, and an honourable ransom,according to the use of chivalry?"

  "Rowena," said De Bracy, "art thou, too, deceived by the common error ofthy sex, who think there can be no rivalry but that respecting their owncharms? Knowest thou not there is a jealous
y of ambition and of wealth,as well as of love; and that this our host, Front-de-Boeuf, will pushfrom his road him who opposes his claim to the fair barony of Ivanhoe,as readily, eagerly, and unscrupulously, as if he were preferred to himby some blue-eyed damsel? But smile on my suit, lady, and the woundedchampion shall have nothing to fear from Front-de-Boeuf, whom else thoumayst mourn for, as in the hands of one who has never shown compassion."

  "Save him, for the love of Heaven!" said Rowena, her firmness giving wayunder terror for her lover's impending fate.

  "I can--I will--it is my purpose," said De Bracy; "for, when Rowenaconsents to be the bride of De Bracy, who is it shall dare to put fortha violent hand upon her kinsman--the son of her guardian--the companionof her youth? But it is thy love must buy his protection. I am notromantic fool enough to further the fortune, or avert the fate, of onewho is likely to be a successful obstacle between me and my wishes. Usethine influence with me in his behalf, and he is safe,--refuse to employit, Wilfred dies, and thou thyself art not the nearer to freedom."

  "Thy language," answered Rowena, "hath in its indifferent bluntnesssomething which cannot be reconciled with the horrors it seems toexpress. I believe not that thy purpose is so wicked, or thy power sogreat."

  "Flatter thyself, then, with that belief," said De Bracy, "untiltime shall prove it false. Thy lover lies wounded in this castle--thypreferred lover. He is a bar betwixt Front-de-Boeuf and that whichFront-de-Boeuf loves better than either ambition or beauty. What willit cost beyond the blow of a poniard, or the thrust of a javelin, tosilence his opposition for ever? Nay, were Front-de-Boeuf afraid tojustify a deed so open, let the leech but give his patient a wrongdraught--let the chamberlain, or the nurse who tends him, but pluckthe pillow from his head, and Wilfred in his present condition, is spedwithout the effusion of blood. Cedric also--"

  "And Cedric also," said Rowena, repeating his words; "my noble--mygenerous guardian! I deserved the evil I have encountered, forforgetting his fate even in that of his son!"

  "Cedric's fate also depends upon thy determination," said De Bracy; "andI leave thee to form it."

  Hitherto, Rowena had sustained her part in this trying scene withundismayed courage, but it was because she had not considered thedanger as serious and imminent. Her disposition was naturally that whichphysiognomists consider as proper to fair complexions, mild, timid,and gentle; but it had been tempered, and, as it were, hardened, by thecircumstances of her education. Accustomed to see the will of all, evenof Cedric himself, (sufficiently arbitrary with others,) give way beforeher wishes, she had acquired that sort of courage and self-confidencewhich arises from the habitual and constant deference of the circle inwhich we move. She could scarce conceive the possibility of her willbeing opposed, far less that of its being treated with total disregard.

  Her haughtiness and habit of domination was, therefore, a fictitiouscharacter, induced over that which was natural to her, and it desertedher when her eyes were opened to the extent of her own danger, as wellas that of her lover and her guardian; and when she found her will, theslightest expression of which was wont to command respect and attention,now placed in opposition to that of a man of a strong, fierce, anddetermined mind, who possessed the advantage over her, and was resolvedto use it, she quailed before him.

  After casting her eyes around, as if to look for the aid which wasnowhere to be found, and after a few broken interjections, she raisedher hands to heaven, and burst into a passion of uncontrolled vexationand sorrow. It was impossible to see so beautiful a creature in suchextremity without feeling for her, and De Bracy was not unmoved, thoughhe was yet more embarrassed than touched. He had, in truth, gone toofar to recede; and yet, in Rowena's present condition, she could not beacted on either by argument or threats. He paced the apartment to andfro, now vainly exhorting the terrified maiden to compose herself, nowhesitating concerning his own line of conduct.

  If, thought he, I should be moved by the tears and sorrow of thisdisconsolate damsel, what should I reap but the loss of these fair hopesfor which I have encountered so much risk, and the ridicule of PrinceJohn and his jovial comrades? "And yet," he said to himself, "I feelmyself ill framed for the part which I am playing. I cannot look on sofair a face while it is disturbed with agony, or on those eyes when theyare drowned in tears. I would she had retained her original haughtinessof disposition, or that I had a larger share of Front-de-Boeuf'sthrice-tempered hardness of heart!"

  Agitated by these thoughts, he could only bid the unfortunate Rowena becomforted, and assure her, that as yet she had no reason for theexcess of despair to which she was now giving way. But in this task ofconsolation De Bracy was interrupted by the horn, "hoarse-winded blowingfar and keen," which had at the same time alarmed the other inmatesof the castle, and interrupted their several plans of avarice andof license. Of them all, perhaps, De Bracy least regretted theinterruption; for his conference with the Lady Rowena had arrived at apoint, where he found it equally difficult to prosecute or to resign hisenterprise.

  And here we cannot but think it necessary to offer some better proofthan the incidents of an idle tale, to vindicate the melancholyrepresentation of manners which has been just laid before the reader. Itis grievous to think that those valiant barons, to whose stand againstthe crown the liberties of England were indebted for their existence,should themselves have been such dreadful oppressors, and capable ofexcesses contrary not only to the laws of England, but to those ofnature and humanity. But, alas! we have only to extract from theindustrious Henry one of those numerous passages which he has collectedfrom contemporary historians, to prove that fiction itself can hardlyreach the dark reality of the horrors of the period.

  The description given by the author of the Saxon Chronicle of thecruelties exercised in the reign of King Stephen by the great barons andlords of castles, who were all Normans, affords a strong proof of theexcesses of which they were capable when their passions were inflamed."They grievously oppressed the poor people by building castles; and whenthey were built, they filled them with wicked men, or rather devils, whoseized both men and women who they imagined had any money, threw theminto prison, and put them to more cruel tortures than the martyrs everendured. They suffocated some in mud, and suspended others by the feet,or the head, or the thumbs, kindling fires below them. They squeezed theheads of some with knotted cords till they pierced their brains, whilethey threw others into dungeons swarming with serpents, snakes, andtoads." But it would be cruel to put the reader to the pain of perusingthe remainder of this description. [29]

  As another instance of these bitter fruits of conquest, and perhaps thestrongest that can be quoted, we may mention, that the Princess Matilda,though a daughter of the King of Scotland, and afterwards both Queen ofEngland, niece to Edgar Atheling, and mother to the Empress of Germany,the daughter, the wife, and the mother of monarchs, was obliged, duringher early residence for education in England, to assume the veil of anun, as the only means of escaping the licentious pursuit of the Normannobles. This excuse she stated before a great council of the clergy ofEngland, as the sole reason for her having taken the religious habit.The assembled clergy admitted the validity of the plea, and thenotoriety of the circumstances upon which it was founded; giving thusan indubitable and most remarkable testimony to the existence of thatdisgraceful license by which that age was stained. It was a matter ofpublic knowledge, they said, that after the conquest of King William,his Norman followers, elated by so great a victory, acknowledged nolaw but their own wicked pleasure, and not only despoiled the conqueredSaxons of their lands and their goods, but invaded the honour of theirwives and of their daughters with the most unbridled license; and henceit was then common for matrons and maidens of noble families to assumethe veil, and take shelter in convents, not as called thither by thevocation of God, but solely to preserve their honour from the unbridledwickedness of man.

  Such and so licentious were the times, as announced by the publicdeclaration of the assembled clergy, recorded by Eadmer; and we
need addnothing more to vindicate the probability of the scenes which we havedetailed, and are about to detail, upon the more apocryphal authority ofthe Wardour MS.