A TOURNAMENT AND A RESCUE WITH ROWENA
There had been three days of grim and gloomy weather, but little cared
Rose and Ruth what colour the sky might be, nor how iron-bound the world
without. This because it was close to Christmas, and they had been
extremely busy finishing Christmas presents. You kept running upon them
bent mysteriously over some task, and what a shriek of agony either of
them gave when thus surprised!
But now the presents were really finished, two whole days before the
Day. And so when the fourth morning broke just as grey and cold as ever,
with a moany kind of wind dragging about outside the house, and leaping
inside with a whoop whenever the door was opened, the two girls were, as
Rose remarked, “plum disgusted.”
“No one with a spark of life in him could sit down quietly with nothing
to do and Christmas hanging over his head,” she grumbled. “I’m too
excited inside. If we could tear about outdoors with any comfort at
all—but I’m sure my nose would break off if I hit it with a pencil this
minute, and we’ve only been out twenty minutes.”
Ruth shivered in an agreeing way. Suddenly a smile broke over her face:
“Rose, we’ve forgotten all about the fairy!”
“Good Crickey! What’s the matter with us? I’m sure she’ll come and take
us somewhere if only we go into the living room and feel thoroughly
lonely. Oh, Ruth, where could we go this time?”
“I’ve an idea, a peachy one. But just you wait till she comes, and then
I’ll ask her if I can choose this time.”
So the girls ran joyously into the big, comfortable room, piled logs on
the fire, heaped a lot of cushions on the rug before it, and snuggled
down deliciously to wait, and feel lonely.
“I wonder if we’ll ever be able to see her,” Ruth murmured. “Wouldn’t it
be funny to meet her somewhere and not know her unless she spoke first?”
“Huh! I guess if we saw a fairy anywhere we could be mighty certain——”
“It was _your_ fairy, eh?”
Both girls started, as they always did when the honey-sweet tinkle of
that voice made itself heard. And then they giggled delightedly.
“Oh, fairy, here you are. And we do want one of your Magic Gate
adventures so much. We’re _so_ lonely and tired of its being such horrid
weather that we can’t stay out a second without feeling friz, as Jake
says.”
“Which means you wouldn’t be sitting here and wishing for me if you had
an earthly thing to do?” and the fairy’s voice sounded a bit mocking.
“Fairy, dear, it isn’t our fault. Somehow you never get into our minds
when anything else is going on, or when any one else is there. Don’t you
fix it that way yourself? We’re sure you do. I guess we wouldn’t think
of anything but you if you didn’t.”
The fairy laughed. “So you’ve found me out,” she gurgled. “Clever young
ones. Yes, I suppose I am at the bottom of it. I couldn’t have you
calling for me all the time, or I’d like to know how I’d get through my
work. Well, what shall we do now I am here?”
Ruth leaped up excitedly:
“May I wish, this time, fairy? Oh, please let me!”
“Of course you can, dear child. But don’t plunge about like a bewitched
windmill. I can’t keep my wings still in such a commotion.”
“I’m so sorry,” Ruth said, hastily sinking down on the rug. “How I wish
we could see your wings.”
“They are rather nice, if I say it as shouldn’t. But come now, what is
it you were going to propose?”
Rose listened eagerly, wondering where Ruth meant to go. She had a plan
of her own, and was hoping Ruth wouldn’t choose that, so that she could
get her turn next time.
“Please take us to visit Rowena—you know, in ‘Ivanhoe,’” Ruth almost
whispered, so thrilled was she at the idea of seeing her favourite
heroine.
Rose sighed with relief and with pleasure, too. It wasn’t her plan, and
yet it was so splendid.
“Fine idea,” said the fairy, briskly. “Give me your hands, and—poof!!”
When the two children opened their eyes the fairy, as usual, had gone
and they stood hand in hand, staring about them.
They were standing in a sort of avenue through a forest. On either side
sturdy oaks crowded close, with holly and other shrubs and bushes.
Underfoot the grass grew thick and short, scarcely trampled by the light
traffic that passed over it.
The dew lay heavy, and it was evidently very early in the morning. The
two girls looked about, wondering whether any one were in sight. But the
wood seemed deserted, except for hundreds of birds fairly singing their
little heads off. Then Rose gave Ruth an excited glance.
“Look at our clothes this time, Ruthsie! Aren’t they simply
scrumptious?”
They were all of that. Rose wore a pale blue, straight cut skirt of
shining silk, and over it a tunic of purple wool, very fine and soft.
This tunic reached almost to her knees and was embroidered round the
bottom and the sleeves, which were wide and elbow length, in a rich
design of yellows and blues. Her hair hung in two braids, twined with
silken threads and turquoises, and a small, light hoop of silver held a
floating pale blue veil on her head, a veil that almost reached the
ground behind. Several bracelets and a chain round her neck gave the
finishing touch to her glory. Ruth’s dress resembled her sister’s,
except that it was in various shades of yellow. Both had soft shoes that
terminated in upward-curling points at the toes.
[Illustration:
“ROOM FOR THE LADY ROWENA, THE LADY ROSE, THE LADY RUTH, AND THE NOBLE
THANE CEDRIC!”
]
“Aren’t we _wonderful_!” gasped Ruth, lost in admiration of their
grandeur.
At this moment a sound of barking and a confused shouting became
audible, and grew louder. Then down the green reach of the avenue came
riding a picturesque cavalcade.
In front were a group of men dressed in short green doublets and scarlet
tights. Small, close-fitting caps trimmed with grey fur were on their
heads and bugles were slung from their shoulders, which, as they drew
near the two staring girls, they set to their lips with a flourish. A
clear, sweet call rang on the air.
Behind these young men rode a man somewhat older in years, of a fine and
free bearing. He wore a cloak of scarlet cloth trimmed with fur,
sweeping back from doublet and hose of green. A hoop of silver studded
with blue stones bound his long, golden hair, that fell straight down
upon his shoulders. A short straight sword hung at his side, and in his
hand he held a spear.
Beside him on a small white horse rode a lovely girl. She, too, wore
green, a flowing gown, embroidered with gold, and from her head floated
a snowy veil, which could not hide the yellow glory of her hair. Her
blue eyes laughed, and in her cheeks the healthy colour glowed, but for
the rest her skin was milky white. Rose and Ruth had never seen a skin
so fair.
Behind these two came a dozen men in brown and scarlet, with shields on
their arms. Two of them led a pair of horses like that ridden by the
young girl. These were saddled and bridled, the broad reins, like those
on the rest of the horses, being richly decorated. The saddles were
queer side affairs, bulky and soft, and also very splendid in
appearance.
Down upon the girls swept this gay train of riders, huge dogs circling
about them; and as they advanced, the young girl waved her hand
joyously.
“Look, noble Thane,” she cried, “there they are awaiting us, even as I
said.” She rode up with the words, jumped lightly from her horse, and
clasped first Rose and then Ruth in her arms. They responded with
delight, for never had they seen so sweet a maid.
“Dear Rose and Ruth, I grieve you should have had to wait for us, but
the hour sped too fast; the noble Cedric would by no means hurry over
breaking his fast, and so detained us at the start,” and she smiled
mischievously toward her companion. “But will ye mount, and come with
us? A tourney has been called not far from here, and we go to see the
knights joust. Bring the palfreys,” she added, motioning to the two men
with the led horses.
These rode forward, and at the same time the leader, Cedric, saluted
gravely.
“Welcome, maids,” he said. “Cedric the Saxon and the Lady Rowena are
overjoyed to meet with you.”
Inspired by the solemnity of his manner, Rose courtesied, and Ruth
quickly followed her example. Then the two girls were lifted into their
saddles, which felt like a couple of rocking-chairs to the hardy
westerners, accustomed to their Indian ponies and Mexican saddles,
especially when the palfreys started off on an easy amble. But certainly
these present trappings better suited the rich clothes they wore.
Rowena put herself between her two new friends as they set merrily off
under the trees. Cedric the Saxon rode ahead, looking back now and then
with a smile. He seemed a pleasant man, and was hardly less fair of skin
than Rowena herself.
“The lists are set not far away,” Rowena told them. “Never till now have
I seen knights jousting, and brave will be the sight. They say that King
Richard will be there before leaving for the Holy Land to conquer the
infidel. Will that not be a wondrous thing? Never was there a Norman I
could abide but this same Richard Cœur de Lion, who is truly a gallant
knight.”
“Think of seeing King Richard! Oh, let’s hurry,” exclaimed Rose.
Rowena laughed. “We will arrive in good season,” she said soothingly,
“and the Thane will not go at a harder pace when he takes maidens with
him. ’Tis but a scant three miles farther. See, yonder rides a train
bent the same way.”
Sure enough, through the scattering trees, that grew more openly here,
with the grass green under them, another group of horsemen rode through
the sun-flecked shade. The light flashed on steel, and rioted in the
blues, scarlets and yellows of their doublets and cloaks. There was a
prodigious clanking as they raced along, and a sound of hearty laughter.
Only for a moment they showed, and then the forest hid them once more.
Ruth and Rose had a thousand questions to ask, and Rowena apparently
liked nothing better than to reply. Ruth was particularly interested in
finding out who was going to do the fighting, and whether any one could
get killed.
“They grow pretty fierce sometimes, don’t they?” she asked.
Rowena nodded. “Many a young knight is injured in these mock battles.
But a man must abide the chance of the day.”
“Like foot-ball games. I never saw one of those yet, but lots of boys
are hurt in them, and some are killed every year,” she told the Saxon
girl.
“Men are made that way, I trow,” Rowena answered. “With all this
jousting and the real wars, I marvel there is a man left alive.”
Just here the woods broke away, and the little company came out on the
brow of a hill, that sloped down by easy degrees to a fair plain. Two
little American girls gave a gasp of admiration as they gazed at the
scene spread before them.
In the centre of the plain was an oblong square, surrounded by a stout
palisade. Up from this the ground sloped in every direction crowded with
gay tents and pavilions, with grand-stands decorated with streamers, and
hung with rich tapestries. Throngs of brilliantly clad people were
climbing to the various seats, glittering as they moved like fireflies
over a field of June clover. Darting about between the tents and across
the meadow were numerous horsemen, evidently messengers and heralds. At
either end of the enclosed space were huge wooden gates, guarded by a
splendid group of mounted men-at-arms. At both sides of each entrance a
herald gorgeously apparelled sate his horse, pennant in hand. Before the
different pavilions flashed great shields, bearing the arms of the
knights who were to carry them. Hawkers of cakes and other things to eat
and drink moved here and there, or displayed their wares under awnings
on the outskirts of the throng. An immense buzz and rattle, mellowed by
distance, rang in the air.
“In the elevated seat under the purple and scarlet canopy, there in the
centre,” explained Rowena, “the King and Prince John will sit. See,
those are the royal arms. At the further end are the knights
challengers, and nearer us the defenders. Over opposite the King’s seat
you see another throne—that is for the Queen of Love and Beauty, who
will give the prizes. How wonderful it would be to occupy that seat. I
would rather sit there than on the throne of the real queen.”
“Perhaps you will some day,” Rose whispered back, for the glory of it
all had taken her voice away. “Isn’t it corking! Ruth, don’t you wish we
lived here instead of at home? You must be awfully happy, Rowena.”
Rowena nodded. Her cheeks were glowing and her eyes shining. As they set
off once more toward the lists, the two American girls thought that the
earth could never hold a sight more beautiful and stirring than their
own gay cavalcade sweeping down the slope to that magnificent gathering
below under the tender blue sky with the ring of huge trees, dark in
summer greenery, fencing in the whole.
They dismounted near one end of the eastern gallery, as Rowena called
the rows of seats, and preceded by two of their escort, who kept
shouting “Room for the Lady Rowena, the Lady Rose, the Lady Ruth, and
the noble Thane Cedric” and shoving aside the populace, who sometimes
laughed and sometimes grumbled, they gradually attained the seats that
had been assigned them. These were not very far from the royal box, and
gave a fine view of the lists. Cedric was soon in conversation with a
couple of acquaintances, but the three young girls settled themselves
comfortably and began to take in all the details of the scene before
them.
Rose and Ruth were amused to see how the rougher elements of the crowd,
who were clustered thickly in the open space of ground between the
stands and the palisade, knocked each other about in taking their
places. Shouts, hoarse guffaws, blows, filled the air and lit
everywhere. In spite of the confusion, people seemed to keep their
tempers wonderfully, and to think no more of a buffet on the head or a
thump in the midriff than we should of a polite request to move aside.
Suddenly an out-burst of cheers shook the crowd. Rowena rose to her
feet, as did her friends, and all turned instinctively to the royal box.
“There he is ... King Richard! And that is Prince John beside him. They
say there is little love between the brothers,” whispered Rowena.
Among a group of attendants two figures stood out conspicuously. One was
that of a tall and finely proportioned man, who carried himself
magnificently. A jewelled circlet rested on his thick, curling hair,
that fell to his shoulders. His crimson cloak was trimmed with broad
bands of ermine, his doublet was of gold brocade, and the jewelled hilt
of his sword glittered in the sunlight. Round his neck was a heavy chain
of gold in which precious stones were set. He laughed and nodded to the
cheering multitude, looking to the right and left, evidently in the
gayest of spirits. Beside him stood a younger, slenderer man, shrewd and
handsome, with an arrogant lift to his head, who was marvellously
dressed in scarlet and gold raiment.
Presently the spectators settled back into their seats, and Richard gave
the signal for the commencement of the tourney.
There was a blare of trumpets, and then the heralds rode into the lists,
announcing something in loud ringing voices. But neither Rose nor Ruth
could understand what they were saying. Rowena said they were calling
the rules of the engagement. They were accompanied by their pages, and
made a brave show as they moved slowly around the inclosure. As they
passed, money was thrown to them by the knights and lords and princes,
amid wild shouts from the yeoman crowd that was now packed tight between
seats and fence.
Presently the circuit was completed, and the heralds left the lists by
either gate. There remained two men, clad all in armour, with helmets on
their heads and drawn swords in their hands. These sat like statues at
either end of the lists.
The gates were left open, and through them rode ten or twelve knights in
chain armour, with different coloured plumes waving from their helmets,
and long shields, pointed at the lower end and decorated in colour with
various designs. Each knight carried a lance in his right hand, the
butt-end resting on the mailed toe of his boot, the shining head, from
which a gay pennant fluttered, high in air. The horses, wild with
excitement, plunged and caracoled, their gorgeous trappings swinging
about them, the gold and jewels on their bridles and on the curious
high, boxlike saddles flashing many-coloured rays. Slowly this gallant
company rode round the lists, while every one shouted and hurrayed. Then
they gathered in two opposing clumps, waited a moment, and then with
short, sharp cries, hurled themselves at full gallop each at each.
They met near the middle of the lists with a crash that must have been
heard a long way off. Ruth and Rose grasped each other’s hands in a grip
that hurt as they stared. A cloud of dust swept up into the air. Through
it rolling shapes of men and horses showed dimly. As the light breeze
cleared the view, the two girls saw that six of the knights lay on the
ground. The rest had whirled about and were riding back to the starting
point. The horses whose masters had been thrown were galloping wildly
around, or struggling to their feet with snorts of terror. The fallen
knights also began to get to their feet, and once up, to walk slowly
toward the exits. Half way across, one of these staggered and fell.
“He is hurt,” said Rowena calmly. “Was it not a marvellous fine set-to?
But see, the Queen of Beauty has taken her place.” Evidently the
knight’s injuries might be either severe or slight for all she cared.
But the two sisters could not feel so little disturbed, and watched with
anxious eyes as the knight was lugged off the field between two
men-at-arms. He was carried into one of the pavilions, looking very much
done up.
“Do you s’pose he’s killed?” whispered Rose. But Rowena was far too much
interested in the scene opposite to answer.
In fact, the new arrivals surpassed the rest of the spectators in
splendour. They looked like a bank of brilliant sunset clouds, so
many-hued were the floating garments of the ladies and the embroidered
doublets of the youths who filled the reserved space. In their midst,
wonderful in silver and rose and pale blue, stood a straight, slender,
graceful girl, with a hoop of sapphires confining her rich chestnut hair
under its blue veil. She looked like something dreamed of rather than a
reality, so lovely she was.
The King rose and bowed to her, and she returned the salutation with a
deep courtesy. Renewed cheers burst out, there was a waving of furred
caps and silken streamers. Then the girl and her companions took their
seats.
“She is a Norman lady,” Rowena told the girls. “When will a Saxon sit in
that throne?” and her voice had a bitter note.
But now the tourney began once more. It seemed to the two girls like a
vast medley of colour and motion, sharp sounds, falling men and horses,
flashing spears and swords. Here two combatants battered each other with
inconceivable fury, their blades resounding on shields and head-pieces;
here one stood over his fallen foe, shouting like a madman, and shaking
his weapon in the air. There the crash of chargers meeting shook the
ground. Intervals of rest occurred, while the strained lookers-on sat
back more easily, exchanging laughing comment, or pointing out some
friend in the crowd. Several of the knights had been wounded, blood had
flowed, a horse had broken a leg ... the crowd leaned forward, yelling,
while Rose saw the King lift a great silver cup to his lips, after
raising it to the Queen of Beauty opposite....
Suddenly the lists were cleared and every one began to stream off toward
the refreshments.
Cedric turned to the three little maids with a smile.
“The Saxons have held their own nobly,” he said, and his eyes flashed
with pride. “How like ye this great sport of knights?”
“It’s—it’s strenuous,” declared Rose, “but it’s certainly the most
exciting thing any one ever did. I’ve been clenching my hands so hard
I’ve almost dug my nails through the skin.”
“So have I,” Ruth murmured. “I feel dazed with it all—such noise and
dash and colour and—oh, such _fierceness_!”
Cedric laughed. “And thou, Rowena?”
Rowena’s blue eyes were aflame.
“Marked thou the knight in silver?” she asked. “He is young, but how he
rode, and with what ease he overthrew yonder huge fellow in black, with
the Norman arms on his shield. Think ye he is Ivanhoe, the Saxon knight
we have heard of? Would I were queen of the tourney, and might crown him
with the bay!”
“So, so,” and her guardian smiled at the eager maid. “Some day perhaps
thou wilt be queen; none will merit it more. As for the youth, I know
him not. But let us away to the tents there, and get refreshments ere
the jousts begin once more.”
So down they went, and preceded by two of their escort, made their way
through the gay throngs, where every one wore silks and satins and fine
woollens and furs and leather jerkins or else jinkling armour, or
perhaps the robes of a priest or a monk, till it seemed like a gigantic
masquerade.
At the tent where they stopped were cakes and goblets of wine, pasties
of game, a roast sucking pig and other delicacies, which the girls,
hungry after the ride and the excitement of the morning, made gallant
inroads upon, drinking milk instead of the wine which Cedric quaffed, a
milk that tasted odd, and which Rowena told them was goat’s milk.
Finishing their luncheon, they looked about them. The scene was
bewitching, and catching Rowena by the hand, they persuaded her to leave
Cedric to his meal, the while they sauntered through the crowd, enjoying
the various sights.
Rowena looked doubtful, but yielded. Evidently it was a new experience
for her to venture away from the protection of a servant or a kinsman.
They wandered slowly about, stopping to watch a game between a group of
shouting boys dressed in tights and brilliant jackets, evidently pages
belonging to great houses, and then drawn on to see several stout
country yokels pitching quoits or rolling a ball on the smooth grass. As
they passed, curious glances were thrown at them, but no one bothered
them.
Suddenly a sound of frightened weeping mixed with shouts of laughter
broke on their ears. The crying was evidently from some little child or
young girl. Ahead of them a circle of boys and youths jostled each other
about something of interest which the girls could not see.
“Some one’s getting hurt inside that ring of boys,” Rose exclaimed. “A
little girl, I’ll bet. Let’s see what we can do,” and with the words she
began to push forward, closely followed by Ruth.
Rowena called to them, however. “Come back, it is none of our affair,
and there is danger....” But they paid no attention, and not wanting to
be left behind, she also crowded to the front. A sharp scream from the
still unseen child gave Rose additional energy.
“Room, you varlets,” she cried boldly, adopting the language she had
heard used by their escort. “Room for the Lady Rose and the Lady Rowena
and the Lady Ruth. Room, I say.”
Somewhat astonished, the crowd gave way slightly, and peering through
the break Rose saw a lovely girl a little younger than Ruth cowering to
the ground, while a crowd of young bullies evoked shrieks of laughter
from the onlookers by pelting her with crusts of bread, apple cores,
clods of turf and anything else that came handy.
“Daughter of an unbelieving Jew,” they yelled. “Who are you, to wear all
those fine garments when honest Christians starve....”
Rose didn’t wait one moment. With an actual roar of rage she burst
through the circle and catching the nearest boy by the arm she hurled
him to one side—luckily, as she explained to Ruth later, he wasn’t half
her size.
“You pack of cowards,” she cried, facing the amazed crowd of tormentors
with her eyes on fire with scorn and wrath. “You make me sick. Go and
find some one of your own size; why, if I had a few of our cowboys here
with me, you’d get the worst licking any of you ever heard of. If
there’s an ounce of manhood in the lot of you, you ought to die of
shame.”
Ruth and Rowena closed in on either side, and now the three girls turned
to the terrified child at their feet. The crowd growled, but several
mumbling something to the effect that they must be highborn ladies or
princesses, broke up in some confusion and drew away.
“You’re all right now,” Ruth murmured soothingly, smoothing the tumbled
hair of the rescued maiden, who rose to her feet, panting a little
through fright and surprise, the tears still standing in her immense
black eyes. “Come, we’ll take you to your people. Who are you, and where
is your father or your mother?”
“I am Rebecca, daughter of Isaac of York,” whispered the child. “Oh, do
not leave me to be killed! Yonder, beyond that furthest tent on the
slope, my father has a pavilion. Take me back there, and we will escape
from this frightful place.”
The poor little thing trembled from head to foot, and Rose threw a
protecting arm about her.
“You’re all right now, dear,” she said. “Come along with us, and we’ll
see you safe with your father. How lovely you are,” she added, almost
involuntarily.
It wasn’t surprising, however. The young Jewess had an exotic beauty,
like some tropic flower which her somewhat fantastic dress, with a
strong hint of the Orient in its flowing lines and changing hues, suited
to admiration. Her skin was a clear olive, her hair glossy black, her
eyes deep and wonderfully dark.
Rowena withdrew from her with a gesture of haughtiness.
“Will you touch the Jew’s daughter?” she said to Rose, a note of scorn
in her voice.
“Don’t be silly,” replied Rose, somewhat roughly. “What’s the matter
with all you people anyhow? You make me tired. Come along, Rebecca.”
The little thing gave Rose a grateful glance, but seemed too astonished
to reply. The party immediately set off toward the indicated pavilion,
and reached it without adventure, though every one they passed stared at
them in amazement. Rowena evidently would have preferred to stay behind,
except that she did not want to be left alone. In her eyes the little
Jewess was a nuisance at the least, and it was clear that she could not
understand what possessed her two friends in acting toward her with such
kindness.
Within sight of the place where her father had pitched his shelter,
Rebecca looked up at her two rescuers.
“Thank you, highborn damsels, most gracious ladies,” she stammered, her
voice tremulous. “Now I am safe—ye will not want to come farther.”
Pressing her hands to her forehead, to her lips and to her breast, she
made a deep salaam. “Farewell, and a thousand, thousand thanks.”
And then she darted toward the pavilion like a young antelope,
disappearing within its shelter with one backward, smiling look.
“Isn’t she a little wonder,” exclaimed Ruth. And at that moment a loud
blare of trumpets shivered the air.
“The tournament is to begin again,” cried Rowena. “Let us hasten
back....”
They turned, but everything blurred before their eyes. The brightly
dressed people, the decorated lists, the gay tents, the great horses in
their splendid trappings. A second’s dizziness....
“Wasn’t it gorgeous!”
They both said it at the same instant, opening their eyes on their own
familiar room.
“But I don’t think I would care to live with Rowena after all,” Rose
added. “Those times _looked_ all right—but——”
“Yes, that’s how I feel,” Ruth agreed.