by Walter Scott
CHAPTER XLIV
So! now 'tis ended, like an old wife's story. Webster
When the first moments of surprise were over, Wilfred of Ivanhoedemanded of the Grand Master, as judge of the field, if he had manfullyand rightfully done his duty in the combat? "Manfully and rightfully hathit been done," said the Grand Master. "I pronounce the maiden free andguiltless--The arms and the body of the deceased knight are at the willof the victor."
"I will not despoil him of his weapons," said the Knight of Ivanhoe,"nor condemn his corpse to shame--he hath fought for Christendom--God'sarm, no human hand, hath this day struck him down. But let hisobsequies be private, as becomes those of a man who died in an unjustquarrel.--And for the maiden--"
He was interrupted by a clattering of horses' feet, advancing in suchnumbers, and so rapidly, as to shake the ground before them; and theBlack Knight galloped into the lists. He was followed by a numerous bandof men-at-arms, and several knights in complete armour.
"I am too late," he said, looking around him. "I had doomedBois-Guilbert for mine own property.--Ivanhoe, was this well, to take onthee such a venture, and thou scarce able to keep thy saddle?"
"Heaven, my Liege," answered Ivanhoe, "hath taken this proud man for itsvictim. He was not to be honoured in dying as your will had designed."
"Peace be with him," said Richard, looking steadfastly on the corpse,"if it may be so--he was a gallant knight, and has died in his steelharness full knightly. But we must waste no time--Bohun, do thineoffice!"
A Knight stepped forward from the King's attendants, and, laying hishand on the shoulder of Albert de Malvoisin, said, "I arrest thee ofHigh Treason."
The Grand Master had hitherto stood astonished at the appearance of somany warriors.--He now spoke.
"Who dares to arrest a Knight of the Temple of Zion, within the girthof his own Preceptory, and in the presence of the Grand Master? and bywhose authority is this bold outrage offered?"
"I make the arrest," replied the Knight--"I, Henry Bohun, Earl of Essex,Lord High Constable of England."
"And he arrests Malvoisin," said the King, raising his visor, "by theorder of Richard Plantagenet, here present.--Conrade Mont-Fitchet, itis well for thee thou art born no subject of mine.--But for thee,Malvoisin, thou diest with thy brother Philip, ere the world be a weekolder."
"I will resist thy doom," said the Grand Master.
"Proud Templar," said the King, "thou canst not--look up, and behold theRoyal Standard of England floats over thy towers instead of thy Templebanner!--Be wise, Beaumanoir, and make no bootless opposition--Thy handis in the lion's mouth."
"I will appeal to Rome against thee," said the Grand Master, "forusurpation on the immunities and privileges of our Order."
"Be it so," said the King; "but for thine own sake tax me not withusurpation now. Dissolve thy Chapter, and depart with thy followers tothy next Preceptory, (if thou canst find one), which has not been madethe scene of treasonable conspiracy against the King of England--Or, ifthou wilt, remain, to share our hospitality, and behold our justice."
"To be a guest in the house where I should command?" said theTemplar; "never!--Chaplains, raise the Psalm, 'Quare fremueruntGentes?'--Knights, squires, and followers of the Holy Temple, prepare tofollow the banner of 'Beau-seant!'"
The Grand Master spoke with a dignity which confronted even that ofEngland's king himself, and inspired courage into his surprised anddismayed followers. They gathered around him like the sheep around thewatch-dog, when they hear the baying of the wolf. But they evinced notthe timidity of the scared flock--there were dark brows of defiance, andlooks which menaced the hostility they dared not to proffer in words.They drew together in a dark line of spears, from which the white cloaksof the knights were visible among the dusky garments of their retainers,like the lighter-coloured edges of a sable cloud. The multitude, who hadraised a clamorous shout of reprobation, paused and gazed in silenceon the formidable and experienced body to which they had unwarily badedefiance, and shrunk back from their front.
The Earl of Essex, when he beheld them pause in their assembled force,dashed the rowels into his charger's sides, and galloped backwards andforwards to array his followers, in opposition to a band so formidable.Richard alone, as if he loved the danger his presence had provoked,rode slowly along the front of the Templars, calling aloud, "What, sirs!Among so many gallant knights, will none dare splinter a spear withRichard?--Sirs of the Temple! your ladies are but sun-burned, if theyare not worth the shiver of a broken lance?"
"The Brethren of the Temple," said the Grand Master, riding forward inadvance of their body, "fight not on such idle and profane quarrel--andnot with thee, Richard of England, shall a Templar cross lance in mypresence. The Pope and Princes of Europe shall judge our quarrel, andwhether a Christian prince has done well in bucklering the cause whichthou hast to-day adopted. If unassailed, we depart assailing no one. Tothine honour we refer the armour and household goods of the Order whichwe leave behind us, and on thy conscience we lay the scandal and offencethou hast this day given to Christendom."
With these words, and without waiting a reply, the Grand Master gave thesignal of departure. Their trumpets sounded a wild march, of an Orientalcharacter, which formed the usual signal for the Templars to advance.They changed their array from a line to a column of march, and moved offas slowly as their horses could step, as if to show it was only the willof their Grand Master, and no fear of the opposing and superior force,which compelled them to withdraw.
"By the splendour of Our Lady's brow!" said King Richard, "it is pityof their lives that these Templars are not so trusty as they aredisciplined and valiant."
The multitude, like a timid cur which waits to bark till the object ofits challenge has turned his back, raised a feeble shout as the rear ofthe squadron left the ground.
During the tumult which attended the retreat of the Templars, Rebeccasaw and heard nothing--she was locked in the arms of her aged father,giddy, and almost senseless, with the rapid change of circumstancesaround her. But one word from Isaac at length recalled her scatteredfeelings.
"Let us go," he said, "my dear daughter, my recovered treasure--let usgo to throw ourselves at the feet of the good youth."
"Not so," said Rebecca, "O no--no--no--I must not at this moment dareto speak to him--Alas! I should say more than--No, my father, let usinstantly leave this evil place."
"But, my daughter," said Isaac, "to leave him who hath come forth like astrong man with his spear and shield, holding his life as nothing, sohe might redeem thy captivity; and thou, too, the daughter of apeople strange unto him and his--this is service to be thankfullyacknowledged."
"It is--it is--most thankfully--most devoutly acknowledged," saidRebecca--"it shall be still more so--but not now--for the sake of thybeloved Rachel, father, grant my request--not now!"
"Nay, but," said Isaac, insisting, "they will deem us more thanklessthan mere dogs!"
"But thou seest, my dear father, that King Richard is in presence, andthat---"
"True, my best--my wisest Rebecca!--Let us hence--let us hence!--Moneyhe will lack, for he has just returned from Palestine, and, as they say,from prison--and pretext for exacting it, should he need any, may ariseout of my simple traffic with his brother John. Away, away, let ushence!"
And hurrying his daughter in his turn, he conducted her from the lists,and by means of conveyance which he had provided, transported her safelyto the house of the Rabbi Nathan.
The Jewess, whose fortunes had formed the principal interest of theday, having now retired unobserved, the attention of the populace wastransferred to the Black Knight. They now filled the air with "Long lifeto Richard with the Lion's Heart, and down with the usurping Templars!"
"Notwithstanding all this lip-loyalty," said Ivanhoe to the Earl ofEssex, "it was well the King took the precaution to bring thee with him,noble Earl, and so many of thy trusty followers."
The Earl smiled and shook his head.
"Gallan
t Ivanhoe," said Essex, "dost thou know our Master so well, andyet suspect him of taking so wise a precaution! I was drawing towardsYork having heard that Prince John was making head there, when I metKing Richard, like a true knight-errant, galloping hither to achieve inhis own person this adventure of the Templar and the Jewess, withhis own single arm. I accompanied him with my band, almost maugre hisconsent."
"And what news from York, brave Earl?" said Ivanhoe; "will the rebelsbide us there?"
"No more than December's snow will bide July's sun," said the Earl;"they are dispersing; and who should come posting to bring us the news,but John himself!"
"The traitor! the ungrateful insolent traitor!" said Ivanhoe; "did notRichard order him into confinement?"
"O! he received him," answered the Earl, "as if they had met after ahunting party; and, pointing to me and our men-at-arms, said, 'Thouseest, brother, I have some angry men with me--thou wert best go to ourmother, carry her my duteous affection, and abide with her until men'sminds are pacified.'"
"And this was all he said?" enquired Ivanhoe; "would not any one saythat this Prince invites men to treason by his clemency?"
"Just," replied the Earl, "as the man may be said to invite death, whoundertakes to fight a combat, having a dangerous wound unhealed."
"I forgive thee the jest, Lord Earl," said Ivanhoe; "but, remember, Ihazarded but my own life--Richard, the welfare of his kingdom."
"Those," replied Essex, "who are specially careless of their ownwelfare, are seldom remarkably attentive to that of others--But letus haste to the castle, for Richard meditates punishing some of thesubordinate members of the conspiracy, though he has pardoned theirprincipal."
From the judicial investigations which followed on this occasion, andwhich are given at length in the Wardour Manuscript, it appears thatMaurice de Bracy escaped beyond seas, and went into the service ofPhilip of France; while Philip de Malvoisin, and his brother Albert, thePreceptor of Templestowe, were executed, although Waldemar Fitzurse, thesoul of the conspiracy, escaped with banishment; and Prince John,for whose behoof it was undertaken, was not even censured by hisgood-natured brother. No one, however, pitied the fate of the twoMalvoisins, who only suffered the death which they had both welldeserved, by many acts of falsehood, cruelty, and oppression.
Briefly after the judicial combat, Cedric the Saxon was summoned to thecourt of Richard, which, for the purpose of quieting the counties thathad been disturbed by the ambition of his brother, was then held atYork. Cedric tushed and pshawed more than once at the message--but herefused not obedience. In fact, the return of Richard had quenched everyhope that he had entertained of restoring a Saxon dynasty in England;for, whatever head the Saxons might have made in the event of a civilwar, it was plain that nothing could be done under the undisputeddominion of Richard, popular as he was by his personal good qualitiesand military fame, although his administration was wilfully careless,now too indulgent, and now allied to despotism.
But, moreover, it could not escape even Cedric's reluctant observation,that his project for an absolute union among the Saxons, by the marriageof Rowena and Athelstane, was now completely at an end, by the mutualdissent of both parties concerned. This was, indeed, an event which, inhis ardour for the Saxon cause, he could not have anticipated, and evenwhen the disinclination of both was broadly and plainly manifested, hecould scarce bring himself to believe that two Saxons of royal descentshould scruple, on personal grounds, at an alliance so necessary for thepublic weal of the nation. But it was not the less certain: Rowena hadalways expressed her repugnance to Athelstane, and now Athelstane wasno less plain and positive in proclaiming his resolution never to pursuehis addresses to the Lady Rowena. Even the natural obstinacy of Cedricsunk beneath these obstacles, where he, remaining on the point ofjunction, had the task of dragging a reluctant pair up to it, one witheach hand. He made, however, a last vigorous attack on Athelstane, andhe found that resuscitated sprout of Saxon royalty engaged, like countrysquires of our own day, in a furious war with the clergy.
It seems that, after all his deadly menaces against the Abbot of SaintEdmund's, Athelstane's spirit of revenge, what between the naturalindolent kindness of his own disposition, what through the prayers ofhis mother Edith, attached, like most ladies, (of the period,) to theclerical order, had terminated in his keeping the Abbot and his monks inthe dungeons of Coningsburgh for three days on a meagre diet. For thisatrocity the Abbot menaced him with excommunication, and made out adreadful list of complaints in the bowels and stomach, suffered byhimself and his monks, in consequence of the tyrannical and unjustimprisonment they had sustained. With this controversy, and with themeans he had adopted to counteract this clerical persecution, Cedricfound the mind of his friend Athelstane so fully occupied, that it hadno room for another idea. And when Rowena's name was mentioned the nobleAthelstane prayed leave to quaff a full goblet to her health, and thatshe might soon be the bride of his kinsman Wilfred. It was a desperatecase therefore. There was obviously no more to be made of Athelstane;or, as Wamba expressed it, in a phrase which has descended from Saxontimes to ours, he was a cock that would not fight.
There remained betwixt Cedric and the determination which the loversdesired to come to, only two obstacles--his own obstinacy, and hisdislike of the Norman dynasty. The former feeling gradually gave waybefore the endearments of his ward, and the pride which he could nothelp nourishing in the fame of his son. Besides, he was not insensibleto the honour of allying his own line to that of Alfred, when thesuperior claims of the descendant of Edward the Confessor were abandonedfor ever. Cedric's aversion to the Norman race of kings was also muchundermined,--first, by consideration of the impossibility of riddingEngland of the new dynasty, a feeling which goes far to create loyaltyin the subject to the king "de facto"; and, secondly, by the personalattention of King Richard, who delighted in the blunt humour of Cedric,and, to use the language of the Wardour Manuscript, so dealt with thenoble Saxon, that, ere he had been a guest at court for seven days, hehad given his consent to the marriage of his ward Rowena and his sonWilfred of Ivanhoe.
The nuptials of our hero, thus formally approved by his father, werecelebrated in the most august of temples, the noble Minster of York.The King himself attended, and from the countenance which he afforded onthis and other occasions to the distressed and hitherto degraded Saxons,gave them a safer and more certain prospect of attaining their justrights, than they could reasonably hope from the precarious chance ofa civil war. The Church gave her full solemnities, graced with allthe splendour which she of Rome knows how to apply with such brillianteffect.
Gurth, gallantly apparelled, attended as esquire upon his young masterwhom he had served so faithfully, and the magnanimous Wamba, decoratedwith a new cap and a most gorgeous set of silver bells. Sharers ofWilfred's dangers and adversity, they remained, as they had a right toexpect, the partakers of his more prosperous career.
But besides this domestic retinue, these distinguished nuptials werecelebrated by the attendance of the high-born Normans, as well asSaxons, joined with the universal jubilee of the lower orders, thatmarked the marriage of two individuals as a pledge of the future peaceand harmony betwixt two races, which, since that period, have been socompletely mingled, that the distinction has become wholly invisible.Cedric lived to see this union approximate towards its completion; foras the two nations mixed in society and formed intermarriages with eachother, the Normans abated their scorn, and the Saxons were refined fromtheir rusticity. But it was not until the reign of Edward the Thirdthat the mixed language, now termed English, was spoken at the courtof London, and that the hostile distinction of Norman and Saxon seemsentirely to have disappeared.
It was upon the second morning after this happy bridal, that the LadyRowena was made acquainted by her handmaid Elgitha, that a damseldesired admission to her presence, and solicited that their parley mightbe without witness. Rowena wondered, hesitated, became curious, andended by commanding the damsel to be admitted, and her attendants t
owithdraw.
She entered--a noble and commanding figure, the long white veil,in which she was shrouded, overshadowing rather than concealing theelegance and majesty of her shape. Her demeanour was that of respect,unmingled by the least shade either of fear, or of a wish to propitiatefavour. Rowena was ever ready to acknowledge the claims, and attend tothe feelings, of others. She arose, and would have conducted herlovely visitor to a seat; but the stranger looked at Elgitha, and againintimated a wish to discourse with the Lady Rowena alone. Elgitha had nosooner retired with unwilling steps, than, to the surprise of the Ladyof Ivanhoe, her fair visitant kneeled on one knee, pressed her hands toher forehead, and bending her head to the ground, in spite of Rowena'sresistance, kissed the embroidered hem of her tunic.
"What means this, lady?" said the surprised bride; "or why do you offerto me a deference so unusual?"
"Because to you, Lady of Ivanhoe," said Rebecca, rising up and resumingthe usual quiet dignity of her manner, "I may lawfully, and withoutrebuke, pay the debt of gratitude which I owe to Wilfred of Ivanhoe.I am--forgive the boldness which has offered to you the homage of mycountry--I am the unhappy Jewess, for whom your husband hazarded hislife against such fearful odds in the tiltyard of Templestowe."
"Damsel," said Rowena, "Wilfred of Ivanhoe on that day rendered back butin slight measure your unceasing charity towards him in his wounds andmisfortunes. Speak, is there aught remains in which he or I can servethee?"
"Nothing," said Rebecca, calmly, "unless you will transmit to him mygrateful farewell."
"You leave England then?" said Rowena, scarce recovering the surprise ofthis extraordinary visit.
"I leave it, lady, ere this moon again changes. My father had a brotherhigh in favour with Mohammed Boabdil, King of Grenada--thither we go,secure of peace and protection, for the payment of such ransom as theMoslem exact from our people."
"And are you not then as well protected in England?" said Rowena."My husband has favour with the King--the King himself is just andgenerous."
"Lady," said Rebecca, "I doubt it not--but the people of England are afierce race, quarrelling ever with their neighbours or among themselves,and ready to plunge the sword into the bowels of each other. Such isno safe abode for the children of my people. Ephraim is an heartlessdove--Issachar an over-laboured drudge, which stoops between twoburdens. Not in a land of war and blood, surrounded by hostileneighbours, and distracted by internal factions, can Israel hope to restduring her wanderings."
"But you, maiden," said Rowena--"you surely can have nothing to fear.She who nursed the sick-bed of Ivanhoe," she continued, rising withenthusiasm--"she can have nothing to fear in England, where Saxon andNorman will contend who shall most do her honour."
"Thy speech is fair, lady," said Rebecca, "and thy purpose fairer; butit may not be--there is a gulf betwixt us. Our breeding, our faith,alike forbid either to pass over it. Farewell--yet, ere I go indulge meone request. The bridal-veil hangs over thy face; deign to raise it, andlet me see the features of which fame speaks so highly."
"They are scarce worthy of being looked upon," said Rowena; "but,expecting the same from my visitant, I remove the veil."
She took it off accordingly; and, partly from the consciousness ofbeauty, partly from bashfulness, she blushed so intensely, that cheek,brow, neck, and bosom, were suffused with crimson. Rebecca blushed also,but it was a momentary feeling; and, mastered by higher emotions, pastslowly from her features like the crimson cloud, which changes colourwhen the sun sinks beneath the horizon.
"Lady," she said, "the countenance you have deigned to show me will longdwell in my remembrance. There reigns in it gentleness and goodness; andif a tinge of the world's pride or vanities may mix with an expressionso lovely, how should we chide that which is of earth for bearing somecolour of its original? Long, long will I remember your features, andbless God that I leave my noble deliverer united with--"
She stopped short--her eyes filled with tears. She hastily wiped them,and answered to the anxious enquiries of Rowena--"I am well, lady--well.But my heart swells when I think of Torquilstone and the lists ofTemplestowe.--Farewell. One, the most trifling part of my duty, remainsundischarged. Accept this casket--startle not at its contents."
Rowena opened the small silver-chased casket, and perceived a carcanet,or neck lace, with ear-jewels, of diamonds, which were obviously ofimmense value.
"It is impossible," she said, tendering back the casket. "I dare notaccept a gift of such consequence."
"Yet keep it, lady," returned Rebecca.--"You have power, rank, command,influence; we have wealth, the source both of our strength and weakness;the value of these toys, ten times multiplied, would not influence halfso much as your slightest wish. To you, therefore, the gift is of littlevalue,--and to me, what I part with is of much less. Let me not thinkyou deem so wretchedly ill of my nation as your commons believe. Thinkye that I prize these sparkling fragments of stone above my liberty?or that my father values them in comparison to the honour of his onlychild? Accept them, lady--to me they are valueless. I will never wearjewels more."
"You are then unhappy!" said Rowena, struck with the manner in whichRebecca uttered the last words. "O, remain with us--the counsel of holymen will wean you from your erring law, and I will be a sister to you."
"No, lady," answered Rebecca, the same calm melancholy reigning in hersoft voice and beautiful features--"that--may not be. I may not changethe faith of my fathers like a garment unsuited to the climate inwhich I seek to dwell, and unhappy, lady, I will not be. He, to whom Idedicate my future life, will be my comforter, if I do His will."
"Have you then convents, to one of which you mean to retire?" askedRowena.
"No, lady," said the Jewess; "but among our people, since the time ofAbraham downwards, have been women who have devoted their thoughts toHeaven, and their actions to works of kindness to men, tending thesick, feeding the hungry, and relieving the distressed. Among these willRebecca be numbered. Say this to thy lord, should he chance to enquireafter the fate of her whose life he saved."
There was an involuntary tremour on Rebecca's voice, and a tendernessof accent, which perhaps betrayed more than she would willingly haveexpressed. She hastened to bid Rowena adieu.
"Farewell," she said. "May He, who made both Jew and Christian, showerdown on you his choicest blessings! The bark that waits us hence will beunder weigh ere we can reach the port."
She glided from the apartment, leaving Rowena surprised as if a visionhad passed before her. The fair Saxon related the singular conference toher husband, on whose mind it made a deep impression. He lived long andhappily with Rowena, for they were attached to each other by thebonds of early affection, and they loved each other the more, from therecollection of the obstacles which had impeded their union. Yet itwould be enquiring too curiously to ask, whether the recollectionof Rebecca's beauty and magnanimity did not recur to his mind morefrequently than the fair descendant of Alfred might altogether haveapproved.
Ivanhoe distinguished himself in the service of Richard, and was gracedwith farther marks of the royal favour. He might have risen stillhigher, but for the premature death of the heroic Coeur-de-Lion, beforethe Castle of Chaluz, near Limoges. With the life of a generous, butrash and romantic monarch, perished all the projects which his ambitionand his generosity had formed; to whom may be applied, with a slightalteration, the lines composed by Johnson for Charles of Sweden--
His fate was destined to a foreign strand, A petty fortress and an "humble" hand; He left the name at which the world grew pale, To point a moral, or adorn a TALE.
