the Castle of Torquilstone, Cedric prepared to take his departure.
He left the gallant band of foresters sorrowing deeply for his
lost friend, the Lord of Coningsburgh; and he and his followers
had scarce departed, when a procession moved slowly from under the
greenwood branches in the direction which he had taken, in the
centre of which was the car in which the body of Athelstane was
laid.
When the funeral train had passed out of sight, Locksley addressed
the Black Knight, and asked him if he had any request to make, as
his reward for the gallantry he had displayed.
"I accept the offer," said the knight; "and I ask permission to
dispose of Sir Maurice de Bracy at my own pleasure."
"He is already thine," said Locksley, "and well for him!"
"De Bracy," said the knight, "thou art free; depart. He whose
prisoner thou art scorns to take mean revenge for what is past.
But beware of the future, lest a worse thing befall thee. Maurice
de Bracy, I say, BEWARE!" De Bracy bowed low and in silence, threw
himself upon a horse, and galloped off through the wood.
"Noble knight," then said Locksley, "I would fain beg your
acceptance of another gift. Here is a bugle, which an English
yeoman has once worn; I pray you to keep it as a memorial of your
gallant bearing. If ye should chance to be hard bestead in any
forest between Trent and Tees, wind three notes upon it, and ye
shall find helpers and rescue."
"Gramercy for the gift, bold yeoman," said the knight; "and better
help than thine and thy rangers would I never seek, were it at my
utmost need."
So saying, he mounted his strong war-horse, and rode off through
the forest.
During all this time Isaac of York sat mournfully apart, grieving
for the loss of his dearly-loved daughter Rebecca. He was assured
that she was still alive, but that there was no hope of rescuing
her from the clutches of Bois-Guilbert, except by the payment of a
ransom of six hundred crowns. On consenting to pay this amount to
the Prior of Jorvaulx, who had just then joined the party in the
wood, the Jew was given a letter, written by the prior himself,
directed to Bois-Guilbert at the Preceptory of Templestowe,
whither the maiden had been carried off, commanding that Rebecca
should be set at liberty. And with this epistle the unhappy old
man set out to procure his daughter's liberation.
Meanwhile there was brave feasting in the Castle of York to which
Prince John had invited those nobles, prelates, and leaders by
whose assistance he hoped to carry through his ambitious projects
upon his brother's throne. Deep was the prince's disappointment
when he learnt of the fall of Torquilstone, and the defeat of the
knights who failed to defend it, and on whose support he strongly
relied. The rumoured intelligence had scarcely reached him, when
De Bracy was ushered into his presence, his armour still bearing
the marks of the late fray, and covered with clay and dust from
crest to spur.
"The Templar is fled," said De Bracy, in answer to the prince's
eager questions; "Front-de-Boeuf you will never see more; and," he
added in a low and emphatic tone, "Richard is in England; I have
seen him and spoken with him."
Prince John turned pale, tottered, and caught at the back of an
oaken bench to support himself.
On awakening from the stupor into which he had been thrown by the
unexpected intelligence, he determined to endeavour to seize his
brother, and hold him a prisoner. He appealed to De Bracy to
assist him in this project, and became at once deeply suspicious
of the knight's loyalty towards him when he declined to lift hand
against the man who had spared his own life.
Driven almost to desperation, and with bitter complaints against
those who had promised to support him, John now treacherously
directed Waldemar Fitzurse, one of his most intimate attendants,
to depart at once, with a chosen band of followers, for the
purpose of overtaking King Richard, and, if possible, securing him
as a prisoner.
In the meantime, Isaac of York, though suffering much from the
ill-treatment he had received at Torquilstone, made his way to the
Preceptory of Templestowe, for the purpose of negotiating his
daughter's redemption. Before reaching his destination he was told
that Lucas de Beaumanoir, the Grand Master of the Order of the
Templars, was then on visit to the preceptory. He had come, the
Jew was informed, for the purpose of correcting and punishing many
of the members of the body whose conduct had of late been open to
severe censure; and he was recognised, besides, as the most
tyrannical oppressor of the Jewish people.
In spite of this ominous intelligence, Isaac pursued his way, and
on arriving at Templestowe was at once shown into the presence of
the Grand Master himself. With fear and trembling he produced the
letter of the Prior of Jorvaulx to Bois-Guilbert. Beaumanoir tore
open the seal and perused the letter in haste, with an expression
of surprise and horror. He had not until then been informed of the
presence of the Jewish maiden in the abode of the Templars, and
great was his fury and indignation on learning that she was
amongst them. He denounced Rebecca as a witch, by whose
enchantment Bois-Guilbert had been led to offend against the rules
of the Holy Order, and in tones of passion and scorn he refused to
listen to Isaac's protestations of her innocence.
"Spurn this Jew from the gate," he said to one of his attendants,
"and shoot him dead if he oppose or turn again. With his daughter
we will deal as the Christian law and our own high office
warrant."
Poor Isaac was hurried off accordingly, and expelled from the
preceptory, all his entreaties, and even his offers, unheard and
disregarded. He had hitherto feared for his daughter's honour; he
was now to tremble for her life.
Orders were at once given by the Grand Master to prepare the great
hall of the preceptory for the trial of Rebecca as a sorceress;
and even the president of the establishment did not hesitate to
aid in procuring false evidence against the unfortunate Jewess,
for the purpose of ingratiating himself with Beaumanoir, from whom
he had kept secret the presence of Rebecca in the holy precincts.
When the ponderous castle bell had tolled the point of noon, the
Jewess was led from her secluded chamber into the great hall in
which the Grand Master had for the time established his court of
justice. As she passed through the crowd of squires and yeomen,
who already filled the lower end of the vast apartment, a scrap of
paper was thrust into her hand, which she received almost
unconsciously, and continued to hold without examining its
contents. The assurance that she possessed some friend in this
awful assembly gave her courage to look around, and to mark into
whose presence she had been conducted. She gazed accordingly upon
a scene which might well have struck terror into a bolder heart
than hers.
On an elevated seat at the upper end of the great hall, directly
before the accused, sat the Grand Master of the Temple, in full
and ample robes of flowing white, holding in his hand the mystic
staff, which bore the symbol of the Order. At his feet was placed
a table, occupied by two scribes, whose duty it was to record the
proceedings of the day. Their chairs were black and formed a
marked contrast to the warlike appearance of the knights who
attended the solemn gathering. The preceptors, of whom there were
four present, occupied seats behind their superiors; and behind
them stood the esquires of the Order, robed in white.
The whole assembly wore an aspect of the most profound gravity--
the reflection, as it were, of the sombre countenance of the
austere and relentless Grand Master. The lower part of the hall
was filled with guards and others whom curiosity had drawn
together to witness the important and impressive ceremony.
The Grand Master himself, in a short speech, announced the charge
against the Jewess; and, on its conclusion, several witnesses were
called to prove the risks to which Bois-Guilbert exposed himself
in endeavouring to save Rebecca from the blazing castle; while
other witnesses testified to the apparent madness of the Templar
in bringing the Jewess to the preceptory. A poor Saxon peasant was
next dragged forward to the bar, who had been cured of a palsy by
the accused. Most unwilling was his testimony, and given with many
tears; but he admitted that two years since he had been unable to
stir from his bed until the remedies applied by Rebecca's
directions had in some degree restored the use of his limbs. With
a trembling hand he produced from his bosom a small box of
ointment, bearing some Hebrew characters upon the lid, which was,
with most of the audience, a sure proof that the devil had stood
apothecary.
Witnesses skilled in medicine were then brought forward to prove
that they knew nothing of the materials of which the unguent was
compounded, and who suggested that it must have been manufactured
by means both unlawful and magical. Other witnesses came forward
to prove that Rebecca's cures were accomplished by means of
mutterings in an unknown tongue, and songs of a sweet, strange
sound, which made the ears of the hearer tingle and his heart
throb, adding that her garments were of a strange and mystic form,
and that she had rings impressed with cabalistic devices, all
which were, in those ignorant and superstitious times, easily
credited as proofs of guilt.
On the conclusion of this weighty evidence the Grand Master in a
solemn tone demanded of Rebecca what she had to say against the
sentence of condemnation which he was about to pronounce.
"To invoke your pity," said the lovely Jewess, with a voice
somewhat tremulous with emotion, "would, I am aware, be as useless
as I should hold it mean. To state that to relieve the sick and
wounded of another religion cannot be displeasing to God were also
unavailing; to plead that many things which these men (whom may
Heaven pardon!) have spoken against me are impossible would avail
me but little, since you believe in their possibility, and still
less would it advantage me to explain that the peculiarities of my
dress, language, and manners are those of my people. I am
friendless, defenceless, and the prisoner of my accuser there. He
is of your own faith; his lightest word would weigh down the most
solemn protestations of the distressed Jewess, and yet to himself,
yes, Brian de Bois-Guilbert, to thyself I appeal, whether these
accusations are not false?"
There was a pause; all eyes turned to the Templar. He was silent.
"Speak," she said, "if thou art a man; if thou art a Christian,
speak! I conjure thee, by the habit which thou dost wear, by the
name thou dost inherit, by the honour of thy mother, I conjure
thee to say, are these things true?"
"Answer her, brother," said the Grand Master.
"The scroll, the scroll!" was all that Bois-Guilbert uttered in
reply, looking to Rebecca.
The Jewess instantly remembered the slip of paper which she
continued to hold in her hand, and, looking at it without being
observed, she read the words, _"Demand a champion!"_
"Rebecca," said the Grand Master, who believed the words of Bois-
Guilbert had reference to some other writing, "hast thou aught
else to say?"
"There is yet one chance of life left to me," said the Jewess,
"even by your own fierce laws. I deny this charge; I maintain my
innocence. I challenge the privilege of trial by combat, and will
appear by my champion. There lies my gage."
She took her embroidered glove from her hand and flung it down
before the Grand Master, with an air of mingled simplicity and
dignity which excited universal surprise and admiration.
A short consultation then took place between Beaumanoir and the
preceptors, in which it was decided that Brian de Bois-Guilbert
was the fittest knight to do battle for the Holy Order. To him,
accordingly, the glove of Rebecca was handed; and the Jewess was
commanded to find a champion by the third day following. It was
further intimated to her that should she fail to do so, or if her
champion should be discomfited, she should die the death of a
sorceress, according to doom.
Being granted permission to communicate with her father, she
hastily wrote a few lines in Hebrew to him, imploring him to seek
out Wilfred, the son of Cedric, and let him know that she was in
sore need of a champion. As it fortuned, the messenger who did her
errand had not far to go before he met Isaac of York.
The poor old man, on learning his daughter's terrible condition,
was quite overcome; but, cheered in some measure by the kindly
words of a rabbi who was with him, he determined, weak and
feverish though he was, to make a last effort for the child he
loved so dearly. And having said farewell the two Jews parted,
Isaac to seek out Ivanhoe, and the rabbi to go to York to look for
other assistance.
In the twilight of the day of her trial, if it could be called
such, a low knock was heard at the door of Rebecca's prison-
chamber; and shortly after Brian de Bois-Guilbert entered the
apartment.
She drew back in terror at the sight of the man who had been the
cause of all her misfortunes; but he bade her not to be afraid. He
had come, he said, to tell her that he was prepared to refuse to
do battle for the Templars against her and sacrifice his name and
honour as a member of the Holy Order, and that he would leave the
preceptory, appear in three days in disguise, and himself be her
champion against any knight who should confront him, on one
condition: that she should accept him as a lover.
Rebecca listened to his words, and then with scorn refused his
offer.
"So be it then, proud damsel," said Bois-Guilbert; "thou hast
thyself decided thine own fate. I shall appear in the lists
against thy champion, and know that there lives not the knight who
may cope with me alone save Richard Coeur-de-Lion and his minion
Ivanhoe. Ivanhoe, as thou well knowest, is unable to bear his
corslet, and Richard is in a foreign prison. Farewell." And so
saying the Templar left the apartment.
Pending this time, so full of terror and anxiety for poor Rebecca,
the Black Knight, having left the company of the generous outlaw,
held his way to a neighbouring religious house to which the
wounded Ivanhoe had been removed when the castle was taken. Here
he remained for the night; and the following day he set out for
Coningsburgh to attend the obsequies of the deceased Athelstane,
Wamba alone being his companion.
They had ridden together for some distance when the quick eye of
the jester caught sight of some men in armour concealed in a brake
not far from where they were.
Almost immediately after three arrows were discharged from the
suspected spot, one of which glanced off the visor of the Black
Knight.
"Let us close with them," said the knight, and he rode straight to
the thicket. He was met by six or seven men-at-arms, who ran
against him with their lances at full career. Three of the weapons
struck against him, and splintered with as little effect as if
they had been driven against a tower of steel.
The attacking party then drew their swords and assailed him on
every side. But many as they were to one they had met their
match; and a man reeled and fell at every blow delivered by the
Black Knight. His opponents, desperate as they were, now bore
back from his deadly blows, and it seemed as if the terror of his
single strength was about to gain the battle against such odds
when a knight in blue armour, who had kept himself behind the
other assailants, spurred forward with his lance, and taking aim,
not at the rider but at the steed, wounded the noble animal
mortally.
"That was a felon stroke!" exclaimed the Black Knight, as the
horse fell to the earth bearing his rider along with him.
At this moment Wamba winded the outlaw's bugle, which he had been
given to carry. The sudden sound made the murderers bear back once
more, and Wamba did not hesitate to rush in and assist his knight
to rise.
"Shame on ye, false cowards!" exclaimed he in the blue harness;
"do ye fly from the empty blast of a horn blown by a jester?"
Animated by his words, they attacked the Black Knight anew, whose
best refuge was now to place his back against an oak, and defend
himself with his sword. The felon knight, who had taken another
spear, watching the moment when his formidable antagonist was most
closely pressed, galloped against him in hopes to nail him with
his lance against the tree; but Wamba, springing forward in good
time, checked the fatal career of the Blue Knight, by hamstringing
his horse with a stroke of his sword; and horse and man went
heavily to the ground. Almost immediately after, a band of yeomen,
headed by Locksley, broke forth from the glade, who, joining
manfully in the fray, soon disposed of the ruffians, all of whom
lay on the spot dead, or mortally wounded.
The visor of the Blue Knight, who still lay entangled under his
wounded steed, was now opened, and the features of Waldemar
Fitzurse were disclosed.
"Stand back, my masters," said the Black Knight to those about
him; "I would speak with this man alone. And now, Waldemar
Fitzurse, say me the truth: confess who set thee on this
traitorous deed."
"Richard," answered the fallen knight, "it was thy father's son."
Richard's eyes sparkled with indignation, but his better nature
overcame it. "Take thy life unasked," he said; "but, on this
condition, that in three days thou shalt leave England, and that
thou wilt never mention the name of John of Anjou as connected
with thy felony." Then, turning to where the yeomen stood apart,
he said, "Let this knight have a steed, Locksley, and let him
depart unharmed. Thou bearest an English heart, and must needs
obey me. I am Richard of England!"
At these words the yeomen kneeled down before him, tendering their
allegiance, while they implored pardon for their offences.
"Rise, my friends," said Richard. "Your misdemeanours have been
atoned by the loyal services you rendered my distressed subjects
before the walls of Torquilstone, and the rescue you have this
day afforded your sovereign. Arise, my liegemen, and be good
subjects in future. And thou, brave Locksley--"
"Call me no longer Locksley, my liege," said the outlaw; "I am
Robin Hood of Sherwood Forest."
Before many more minutes had gone a sylvan repast was hastily
prepared beneath a huge oak-tree for the King of England. Amongst
those who partook of the forest hospitality of the outlaws were
Ivanhoe and Gurth, who just then came on the scene, the former now
all but cured of his wound, thanks to the healing balsam with
which he had been provided by Rebecca the Jewess.
When the feast was concluded, the king, attended by Ivanhoe,
Wamba, and Gurth, proceeded on his way to Coningsburgh. As the
travellers approached the ancient Saxon fortress, they could see
the huge black banner floating from the top of the tower, which
announced that the obsequies of the late owner were still in the
act of being solemnized. All around the castle was a scene of busy
commotion, the whole countryside being gathered from far and near
to partake of the funeral banquet. Cooks and mendicants,
strolling soldiers from Palestine, pedlars, mechanics, wandering
palmers, hedge-priests, Saxon minstrels and Welsh bards, together
with jesters and jugglers, formed a motley and hungry gathering,
such as could only be seen on the occasion which now brought them
together; and through this riotous crowd Richard and his followers
with difficulty made their way.
As they entered the apartment where Cedric sat, Ivanhoe muffled
his face in his mantle. Upon the entrance of Richard, the Saxon
arose gravely to bid him welcome. Having greeted him and his
friends with the mournful ceremony suited to the occasion, Cedric
led his knightly guest to another apartment, where he was about to
leave him, when the Black Knight took his hand.
"I crave to remind you, noble thane," he said, "that when we last
parted you promised to grant me a boon."
"It is granted ere named, noble knight," said Cedric, still
unaware that he was speaking to the king.
"Know me, then, from henceforth," said the Black Knight, "as
Richard Plantagenet; the boon I crave is that thou wilt forgive
and receive to thy paternal affection this good knight here,
Wilfred of Ivanhoe."
"And this is Wilfred!" said Cedric, pointing to his son.
"My father! my father!" said Ivanhoe, prostrating himself at
Cedric's feet, "grant me thy forgiveness!"
"Thou hast it, my son," said Cedric, raising him up. But he had
scarce uttered the words when the door flew open, and Athelstane,
arrayed in the garments of the grave, stood before them, pale,
haggard, and like something arisen from the dead.
The effect of this apparition on the persons present was utterly
appalling. Cedric started back in amazement. Ivanhoe crossed
himself, repeating prayers in Saxon, Latin, and Norman-French,
while Richard alternately said "_Benedicite_" and swore,
"_Mort de ma vie!_"
"In the name of God," said Cedric, starting back, "if thou art
mortal, speak! Living or dead, noble Athelstane, speak to Cedric!"
"I will," said the spectre, "when I have collected breath. Alive,
saidst thou? I am as much alive as he can be who has fed on bread
and water for three days. I went down under the Templar's sword,
stunned, indeed, but unwounded, for the blade struck me flatlings,
being averted by the good mace with which I warded the blow.
Others, of both sides, were beaten down and slaughtered above me,
so that I never recovered my senses until I found myself in a
coffin--an open one, by good luck--placed before the altar in
church."
Having concluded his story, still breathless with excitement, he
looked about him. He had caught a glimpse of Ivanhoe as he first
came into the apartment, but had lost sight of him owing to the
crowd of eager listeners by which the room was now thronged.
Filled with a spirit of generosity to his rival, he took the hand
of Rowena, who stood beside him, and was about to place it in that
of Ivanhoe, when it was found that Wilfred had vanished from the
room.
It was at length discovered that a Jew had been to seek the
knight, and that, after a very brief conference, he had called for
Gurth and his armour, and had left the castle. King Richard was
also gone, and no one knew whither.
Meanwhile, the tiltyard of the Preceptory of Templestowe was
prepared for the combat which should decide the life or death of
Rebecca. As the hour approached which was to determine the fate of
the unfortunate Jewess, a vast multitude had gathered to witness a
spectacle even in that age but seldom seen.
At one end of the lists arose the throne of the Grand Master,
surrounded with seats for the preceptors and the knights of the
Order, over which floated the sacred standard of the Templars.
At the opposite end was a pile of faggots, so arranged around a
stake, deeply fixed in the ground, as to leave a space for the
victim whom they were destined to consume. Close by stood four
black slaves, whose colour and African features, then so little
known in England, appalled the multitude, who gazed on them as
demons.
Soon the slow and sullen sounds of the great church bell chilled
with awe the hearts of the assembled crowd; and before long the
Grand Master, preceded by a stately retinue, approached his
throne. Behind him came Brian de Bois-Guilbert, armed cap-a-pie in
bright armour, but looking ghastly pale. A long procession
followed, and next a guard of warders on foot, in sable livery,
amidst whom might be seen the pale form of the accused maiden. All
her ornaments had been removed, and a coarse white dress, of the
simplest form, had been substituted for her Oriental garments; yet
there was such an exquisite mixture of courage and resignation in
her look that even in this garb, and with no other ornament than
her long black tresses, each eye wept that looked upon her.
The unfortunate Jewess was conducted to a black chair placed
near the pile; and soon after a loud and long flourish of trumpets
announced that the court were seated for judgment.
There was a dead pause of many minutes.
"No champion appears for the appellant," said the Grand Master.