by Walter Scott
CHAPTER XXIX
Ascend the watch-tower yonder, valiant soldier, Look on the field, and say how goes the battle. --Schiller's Maid of Orleans
A moment of peril is often also a moment of open-hearted kindness andaffection. We are thrown off our guard by the general agitation of ourfeelings, and betray the intensity of those, which, at more tranquilperiods, our prudence at least conceals, if it cannot altogethersuppress them. In finding herself once more by the side of Ivanhoe,Rebecca was astonished at the keen sensation of pleasure which sheexperienced, even at a time when all around them both was danger, if notdespair. As she felt his pulse, and enquired after his health, there wasa softness in her touch and in her accents implying a kinder interestthan she would herself have been pleased to have voluntarily expressed.Her voice faltered and her hand trembled, and it was only the coldquestion of Ivanhoe, "Is it you, gentle maiden?" which recalled her toherself, and reminded her the sensations which she felt were not andcould not be mutual. A sigh escaped, but it was scarce audible; and thequestions which she asked the knight concerning his state of health wereput in the tone of calm friendship. Ivanhoe answered her hastily thathe was, in point of health, as well, and better than he could haveexpected--"Thanks," he said, "dear Rebecca, to thy helpful skill."
"He calls me DEAR Rebecca," said the maiden to herself, "but it is inthe cold and careless tone which ill suits the word. His war-horse--hishunting hound, are dearer to him than the despised Jewess!"
"My mind, gentle maiden," continued Ivanhoe, "is more disturbed byanxiety, than my body with pain. From the speeches of those men whowere my warders just now, I learn that I am a prisoner, and, if I judgearight of the loud hoarse voice which even now dispatched them henceon some military duty, I am in the castle of Front-de-Boeuf--If so, howwill this end, or how can I protect Rowena and my father?"
"He names not the Jew or Jewess," said Rebecca internally; "yet what isour portion in him, and how justly am I punished by Heaven forletting my thoughts dwell upon him!" She hastened after this briefself-accusation to give Ivanhoe what information she could; but itamounted only to this, that the Templar Bois-Guilbert, and theBaron Front-de-Boeuf, were commanders within the castle; that it wasbeleaguered from without, but by whom she knew not. She added, thatthere was a Christian priest within the castle who might be possessed ofmore information.
"A Christian priest!" said the knight, joyfully; "fetch him hither,Rebecca, if thou canst--say a sick man desires his ghostly counsel--saywhat thou wilt, but bring him--something I must do or attempt, but howcan I determine until I know how matters stand without?"
Rebecca in compliance with the wishes of Ivanhoe, made that attempt tobring Cedric into the wounded Knight's chamber, which was defeated as wehave already seen by the interference of Urfried, who had also been onthe watch to intercept the supposed monk. Rebecca retired to communicateto Ivanhoe the result of her errand.
They had not much leisure to regret the failure of this source ofintelligence, or to contrive by what means it might be supplied; for thenoise within the castle, occasioned by the defensive preparations whichhad been considerable for some time, now increased into tenfold bustleand clamour. The heavy, yet hasty step of the men-at-arms, traversed thebattlements or resounded on the narrow and winding passages and stairswhich led to the various bartisans and points of defence. The voices ofthe knights were heard, animating their followers, or directing meansof defence, while their commands were often drowned in the clashing ofarmour, or the clamorous shouts of those whom they addressed. Tremendousas these sounds were, and yet more terrible from the awful event whichthey presaged, there was a sublimity mixed with them, which Rebecca'shigh-toned mind could feel even in that moment of terror. Her eyekindled, although the blood fled from her cheeks; and there was astrong mixture of fear, and of a thrilling sense of the sublime, as sherepeated, half whispering to herself, half speaking to her companion,the sacred text,--"The quiver rattleth--the glittering spear and theshield--the noise of the captains and the shouting!"
But Ivanhoe was like the war-horse of that sublime passage, glowing withimpatience at his inactivity, and with his ardent desire to mingle inthe affray of which these sounds were the introduction. "If I couldbut drag myself," he said, "to yonder window, that I might see howthis brave game is like to go--If I had but bow to shoot a shaft, orbattle-axe to strike were it but a single blow for our deliverance!--Itis in vain--it is in vain--I am alike nerveless and weaponless!"
"Fret not thyself, noble knight," answered Rebecca, "the sounds haveceased of a sudden--it may be they join not battle."
"Thou knowest nought of it," said Wilfred, impatiently; "this dead pauseonly shows that the men are at their posts on the walls, and expectingan instant attack; what we have heard was but the instant muttering ofthe storm--it will burst anon in all its fury.--Could I but reach yonderwindow!"
"Thou wilt but injure thyself by the attempt, noble knight," replied hisattendant. Observing his extreme solicitude, she firmly added, "I myselfwill stand at the lattice, and describe to you as I can what passeswithout."
"You must not--you shall not!" exclaimed Ivanhoe; "each lattice, eachaperture, will be soon a mark for the archers; some random shaft--"
"It shall be welcome!" murmured Rebecca, as with firm pace she ascendedtwo or three steps, which led to the window of which they spoke.
"Rebecca, dear Rebecca!" exclaimed Ivanhoe, "this is no maiden'spastime--do not expose thyself to wounds and death, and render me forever miserable for having given the occasion; at least, cover thyselfwith yonder ancient buckler, and show as little of your person at thelattice as may be."
Following with wonderful promptitude the directions of Ivanhoe, andavailing herself of the protection of the large ancient shield, whichshe placed against the lower part of the window, Rebecca, with tolerablesecurity to herself, could witness part of what was passing without thecastle, and report to Ivanhoe the preparations which the assailants weremaking for the storm. Indeed the situation which she thus obtained waspeculiarly favourable for this purpose, because, being placed on anangle of the main building, Rebecca could not only see what passedbeyond the precincts of the castle, but also commanded a view of theoutwork likely to be the first object of the meditated assault. It wasan exterior fortification of no great height or strength, intendedto protect the postern-gate, through which Cedric had been recentlydismissed by Front-de-Boeuf. The castle moat divided this species ofbarbican from the rest of the fortress, so that, in case of its beingtaken, it was easy to cut off the communication with the main building,by withdrawing the temporary bridge. In the outwork was a sallyportcorresponding to the postern of the castle, and the whole was surroundedby a strong palisade. Rebecca could observe, from the number of menplaced for the defence of this post, that the besieged entertainedapprehensions for its safety; and from the mustering of the assailantsin a direction nearly opposite to the outwork, it seemed no less plainthat it had been selected as a vulnerable point of attack.
These appearances she hastily communicated to Ivanhoe, and added, "Theskirts of the wood seem lined with archers, although only a few areadvanced from its dark shadow."
"Under what banner?" asked Ivanhoe.
"Under no ensign of war which I can observe," answered Rebecca.
"A singular novelty," muttered the knight, "to advance to storm such acastle without pennon or banner displayed!--Seest thou who they be thatact as leaders?"
"A knight, clad in sable armour, is the most conspicuous," said theJewess; "he alone is armed from head to heel, and seems to assume thedirection of all around him."
"What device does he bear on his shield?" replied Ivanhoe.
"Something resembling a bar of iron, and a padlock painted blue on theblack shield." [35]
"A fetterlock and shacklebolt azure," said Ivanhoe; "I know not who maybear the device, but well I ween it might now be mine own. Canst thounot see the motto?"
"Scarce the device itself at this distance," replied Rebecca;
"but whenthe sun glances fair upon his shield, it shows as I tell you."
"Seem there no other leaders?" exclaimed the anxious enquirer.
"None of mark and distinction that I can behold from this station," saidRebecca; "but, doubtless, the other side of the castle is also assailed.They appear even now preparing to advance--God of Zion, protectus!--What a dreadful sight!--Those who advance first bear huge shieldsand defences made of plank; the others follow, bending their bowsas they come on.--They raise their bows!--God of Moses, forgive thecreatures thou hast made!"
Her description was here suddenly interrupted by the signal for assault,which was given by the blast of a shrill bugle, and at once answered bya flourish of the Norman trumpets from the battlements, which,mingled with the deep and hollow clang of the nakers, (a species ofkettle-drum,) retorted in notes of defiance the challenge of the enemy.The shouts of both parties augmented the fearful din, the assailantscrying, "Saint George for merry England!" and the Normans answeringthem with loud cries of "En avant De Bracy!--Beau-seant!Beau-seant!--Front-de-Boeuf a la rescousse!" according to the war-criesof their different commanders.
It was not, however, by clamour that the contest was to be decided, andthe desperate efforts of the assailants were met by an equally vigorousdefence on the part of the besieged. The archers, trained by theirwoodland pastimes to the most effective use of the long-bow, shot, touse the appropriate phrase of the time, so "wholly together," thatno point at which a defender could show the least part of his person,escaped their cloth-yard shafts. By this heavy discharge, whichcontinued as thick and sharp as hail, while, notwithstanding, everyarrow had its individual aim, and flew by scores together against eachembrasure and opening in the parapets, as well as at every window wherea defender either occasionally had post, or might be suspected to bestationed,--by this sustained discharge, two or three of the garrisonwere slain, and several others wounded. But, confident in their armourof proof, and in the cover which their situation afforded, the followersof Front-de-Boeuf, and his allies, showed an obstinacy in defenceproportioned to the fury of the attack and replied with the dischargeof their large cross-bows, as well as with their long-bows, slings, andother missile weapons, to the close and continued shower of arrows;and, as the assailants were necessarily but indifferently protected, didconsiderably more damage than they received at their hand. The whizzingof shafts and of missiles, on both sides, was only interrupted by theshouts which arose when either side inflicted or sustained some notableloss.
"And I must lie here like a bedridden monk," exclaimed Ivanhoe, "whilethe game that gives me freedom or death is played out by the hand ofothers!--Look from the window once again, kind maiden, but beware thatyou are not marked by the archers beneath--Look out once more, and tellme if they yet advance to the storm."
With patient courage, strengthened by the interval which she hademployed in mental devotion, Rebecca again took post at the lattice,sheltering herself, however, so as not to be visible from beneath.
"What dost thou see, Rebecca?" again demanded the wounded knight.
"Nothing but the cloud of arrows flying so thick as to dazzle mine eyes,and to hide the bowmen who shoot them."
"That cannot endure," said Ivanhoe; "if they press not right on tocarry the castle by pure force of arms, the archery may avail but littleagainst stone walls and bulwarks. Look for the Knight of the Fetterlock,fair Rebecca, and see how he bears himself; for as the leader is, sowill his followers be."
"I see him not," said Rebecca.
"Foul craven!" exclaimed Ivanhoe; "does he blench from the helm when thewind blows highest?"
"He blenches not! he blenches not!" said Rebecca, "I see him now; heleads a body of men close under the outer barrier of the barbican. [36]--They pull down the piles and palisades; they hew down the barrierswith axes.--His high black plume floats abroad over the throng, likea raven over the field of the slain.--They have made a breach in thebarriers--they rush in--they are thrust back!--Front-de-Boeuf heads thedefenders; I see his gigantic form above the press. They throng again tothe breach, and the pass is disputed hand to hand, and man to man. Godof Jacob! it is the meeting of two fierce tides--the conflict of twooceans moved by adverse winds!"
She turned her head from the lattice, as if unable longer to endure asight so terrible.
"Look forth again, Rebecca," said Ivanhoe, mistaking the cause of herretiring; "the archery must in some degree have ceased, since they arenow fighting hand to hand.--Look again, there is now less danger."
Rebecca again looked forth, and almost immediately exclaimed, "Holyprophets of the law! Front-de-Boeuf and the Black Knight fight handto hand on the breach, amid the roar of their followers, who watch theprogress of the strife--Heaven strike with the cause of the oppressedand of the captive!" She then uttered a loud shriek, and exclaimed, "Heis down!--he is down!"
"Who is down?" cried Ivanhoe; "for our dear Lady's sake, tell me whichhas fallen?"
"The Black Knight," answered Rebecca, faintly; then instantly againshouted with joyful eagerness--"But no--but no!--the name of the Lordof Hosts be blessed!--he is on foot again, and fights as if therewere twenty men's strength in his single arm--His sword is broken--hesnatches an axe from a yeoman--he presses Front-de-Boeuf with blow onblow--The giant stoops and totters like an oak under the steel of thewoodman--he falls--he falls!"
"Front-de-Boeuf?" exclaimed Ivanhoe.
"Front-de-Boeuf!" answered the Jewess; "his men rush to the rescue,headed by the haughty Templar--their united force compels the championto pause--They drag Front-de-Boeuf within the walls."
"The assailants have won the barriers, have they not?" said Ivanhoe.
"They have--they have!" exclaimed Rebecca--"and they press the besiegedhard upon the outer wall; some plant ladders, some swarm like bees, andendeavour to ascend upon the shoulders of each other--down go stones,beams, and trunks of trees upon their heads, and as fast as theybear the wounded to the rear, fresh men supply their places in theassault--Great God! hast thou given men thine own image, that it shouldbe thus cruelly defaced by the hands of their brethren!"
"Think not of that," said Ivanhoe; "this is no time for suchthoughts--Who yield?--who push their way?"
"The ladders are thrown down," replied Rebecca, shuddering; "thesoldiers lie grovelling under them like crushed reptiles--The besiegedhave the better."
"Saint George strike for us!" exclaimed the knight; "do the false yeomengive way?"
"No!" exclaimed Rebecca, "they bear themselves right yeomanly--the BlackKnight approaches the postern with his huge axe--the thundering blowswhich he deals, you may hear them above all the din and shouts ofthe battle--Stones and beams are hailed down on the bold champion--heregards them no more than if they were thistle-down or feathers!"
"By Saint John of Acre," said Ivanhoe, raising himself joyfully on hiscouch, "methought there was but one man in England that might do such adeed!"
"The postern gate shakes," continued Rebecca; "it crashes--it issplintered by his blows--they rush in--the outwork is won--Oh,God!--they hurl the defenders from the battlements--they throw theminto the moat--O men, if ye be indeed men, spare them that can resist nolonger!"
"The bridge--the bridge which communicates with the castle--have theywon that pass?" exclaimed Ivanhoe.
"No," replied Rebecca, "The Templar has destroyed the plank on whichthey crossed--few of the defenders escaped with him into the castle--theshrieks and cries which you hear tell the fate of the others--Alas!--Isee it is still more difficult to look upon victory than upon battle."
"What do they now, maiden?" said Ivanhoe; "look forth yet again--this isno time to faint at bloodshed."
"It is over for the time," answered Rebecca; "our friends strengthenthemselves within the outwork which they have mastered, and it affordsthem so good a shelter from the foemen's shot, that the garrison onlybestow a few bolts on it from interval to interval, as if rather todisquiet than effectually to injure them."
"Our friends," said Wilfred, "w
ill surely not abandon an enterprise sogloriously begun and so happily attained.--O no! I will put my faithin the good knight whose axe hath rent heart-of-oak and bars ofiron.--Singular," he again muttered to himself, "if there be two who cando a deed of such derring-do! [37]--a fetterlock, and a shacklebolt ona field sable--what may that mean?--seest thou nought else, Rebecca, bywhich the Black Knight may be distinguished?"
"Nothing," said the Jewess; "all about him is black as the wing of thenight raven. Nothing can I spy that can mark him further--but havingonce seen him put forth his strength in battle, methinks I could knowhim again among a thousand warriors. He rushes to the fray as if he weresummoned to a banquet. There is more than mere strength, there seems asif the whole soul and spirit of the champion were given to everyblow which he deals upon his enemies. God assoilize him of the sin ofbloodshed!--it is fearful, yet magnificent, to behold how the arm andheart of one man can triumph over hundreds."
"Rebecca," said Ivanhoe, "thou hast painted a hero; surely they restbut to refresh their force, or to provide the means of crossing themoat--Under such a leader as thou hast spoken this knight to be, thereare no craven fears, no cold-blooded delays, no yielding up a gallantemprize; since the difficulties which render it arduous render it alsoglorious. I swear by the honour of my house--I vow by the name of mybright lady-love, I would endure ten years' captivity to fight one dayby that good knight's side in such a quarrel as this!"
"Alas," said Rebecca, leaving her station at the window, and approachingthe couch of the wounded knight, "this impatient yearning afteraction--this struggling with and repining at your present weakness,will not fail to injure your returning health--How couldst thou hopeto inflict wounds on others, ere that be healed which thou thyself hastreceived?"
"Rebecca," he replied, "thou knowest not how impossible it is for onetrained to actions of chivalry to remain passive as a priest, or awoman, when they are acting deeds of honour around him. The love ofbattle is the food upon which we live--the dust of the 'melee' is thebreath of our nostrils! We live not--we wish not to live--longer thanwhile we are victorious and renowned--Such, maiden, are the laws ofchivalry to which we are sworn, and to which we offer all that we holddear."
"Alas!" said the fair Jewess, "and what is it, valiant knight, save anoffering of sacrifice to a demon of vain glory, and a passing throughthe fire to Moloch?--What remains to you as the prize of all the bloodyou have spilled--of all the travail and pain you have endured--ofall the tears which your deeds have caused, when death hath broken thestrong man's spear, and overtaken the speed of his war-horse?"
"What remains?" cried Ivanhoe; "Glory, maiden, glory! which gilds oursepulchre and embalms our name."
"Glory?" continued Rebecca; "alas, is the rusted mail which hangs as ahatchment over the champion's dim and mouldering tomb--is the defacedsculpture of the inscription which the ignorant monk can hardly read tothe enquiring pilgrim--are these sufficient rewards for the sacrificeof every kindly affection, for a life spent miserably that ye maymake others miserable? Or is there such virtue in the rude rhymes ofa wandering bard, that domestic love, kindly affection, peace andhappiness, are so wildly bartered, to become the hero of those balladswhich vagabond minstrels sing to drunken churls over their evening ale?"
"By the soul of Hereward!" replied the knight impatiently, "thouspeakest, maiden, of thou knowest not what. Thou wouldst quench the purelight of chivalry, which alone distinguishes the noble from the base,the gentle knight from the churl and the savage; which rates our lifefar, far beneath the pitch of our honour; raises us victorious overpain, toil, and suffering, and teaches us to fear no evil but disgrace.Thou art no Christian, Rebecca; and to thee are unknown those highfeelings which swell the bosom of a noble maiden when her lover hathdone some deed of emprize which sanctions his flame. Chivalry!--why,maiden, she is the nurse of pure and high affection--the stay of theoppressed, the redresser of grievances, the curb of the power of thetyrant--Nobility were but an empty name without her, and liberty findsthe best protection in her lance and her sword."
"I am, indeed," said Rebecca, "sprung from a race whose courage wasdistinguished in the defence of their own land, but who warred not, evenwhile yet a nation, save at the command of the Deity, or in defendingtheir country from oppression. The sound of the trumpet wakes Judah nolonger, and her despised children are now but the unresisting victimsof hostile and military oppression. Well hast thou spoken, SirKnight,--until the God of Jacob shall raise up for his chosen people asecond Gideon, or a new Maccabeus, it ill beseemeth the Jewish damsel tospeak of battle or of war."
The high-minded maiden concluded the argument in a tone of sorrow, whichdeeply expressed her sense of the degradation of her people, embitteredperhaps by the idea that Ivanhoe considered her as one not entitledto interfere in a case of honour, and incapable of entertaining orexpressing sentiments of honour and generosity.
"How little he knows this bosom," she said, "to imagine that cowardiceor meanness of soul must needs be its guests, because I have censuredthe fantastic chivalry of the Nazarenes! Would to heaven that theshedding of mine own blood, drop by drop, could redeem the captivity ofJudah! Nay, would to God it could avail to set free my father, and thishis benefactor, from the chains of the oppressor! The proud Christianshould then see whether the daughter of God's chosen people dared not todie as bravely as the vainest Nazarene maiden, that boasts her descentfrom some petty chieftain of the rude and frozen north!"
She then looked towards the couch of the wounded knight.
"He sleeps," she said; "nature exhausted by sufferance and the wasteof spirits, his wearied frame embraces the first moment of temporaryrelaxation to sink into slumber. Alas! is it a crime that I should lookupon him, when it may be for the last time?--When yet but a short space,and those fair features will be no longer animated by the bold andbuoyant spirit which forsakes them not even in sleep!--When the nostrilshall be distended, the mouth agape, the eyes fixed and bloodshot; andwhen the proud and noble knight may be trodden on by the lowest caitiffof this accursed castle, yet stir not when the heel is lifted up againsthim!--And my father!--oh, my father! evil is it with his daughter,when his grey hairs are not remembered because of the golden locks ofyouth!--What know I but that these evils are the messengers of Jehovah'swrath to the unnatural child, who thinks of a stranger's captivitybefore a parent's? who forgets the desolation of Judah, and looks uponthe comeliness of a Gentile and a stranger?--But I will tear this follyfrom my heart, though every fibre bleed as I rend it away!"
She wrapped herself closely in her veil, and sat down at a distancefrom the couch of the wounded knight, with her back turned towards it,fortifying, or endeavouring to fortify her mind, not only againstthe impending evils from without, but also against those treacherousfeelings which assailed her from within.
