Ivanhoe - Walter Scott (e ink ebook reader txt) 📗
- Author: Walter Scott
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unprofitable debate have we here?”
“The victor,” said De Wyvil, “still waits the pleasure of your
highness.”
“It is our pleasure,” answered John, “that he do so wait until we
learn whether there is not some one who can at least guess at his
name and quality. Should he remain there till night-fall, he has
had work enough to keep him warm.”
“Your Grace,” said Waldemar Fitzurse, “will do less than due
honour to the victor, if you compel him to wait till we tell your
highness that which we cannot know; at least I can form no guess
---unless he be one of the good lances who accompanied King
Richard to Palestine, and who are now straggling homeward from
the Holy Land.”
“It may be the Earl of Salisbury,” said De Bracy; “he is about
the same pitch.”
“Sir Thomas de Multon, the Knight of Gilsland, rather,” said
Fitzurse; “Salisbury is bigger in the bones.” A whisper arose
among the train, but by whom first suggested could not be
ascertained. “It might be the King---it might be Richard
Coeur-de-Lion himself!”
“Over God’s forbode!” said Prince John, involuntarily turning at
the same time as pale as death, and shrinking as if blighted by
a flash of lightning; “Waldemar!---De Bracy! brave knights and
gentlemen, remember your promises, and stand truly by me!”
“Here is no danger impending,” said Waldemar Fitzurse; “are you
so little acquainted with the gigantic limbs of your father’s
son, as to think they can be held within the circumference of
yonder suit of armour?---De Wyvil and Martival, you will best
serve the Prince by bringing forward the victor to the throne,
and ending an error that has conjured all the blood from his
cheeks.---Look at him more closely,” he continued, “your highness
will see that he wants three inches of King Richard’s height, and
twice as much of his shoulder-breadth. The very horse he backs,
could not have carried the ponderous weight of King Richard
through a single course.”
While he was yet speaking, the marshals brought forward the
Disinherited Knight to the foot of a wooden flight of steps,
which formed the ascent from the lists to Prince John’s throne.
Still discomposed with the idea that his brother, so much
injured, and to whom he was so much indebted, had suddenly
arrived in his native kingdom, even the distinctions pointed out
by Fitzurse did not altogether remove the Prince’s apprehensions;
and while, with a short and embarrassed eulogy upon his valour,
he caused to be delivered to him the war-horse assigned as the
prize, he trembled lest from the barred visor of the mailed form
before him, an answer might be returned, in the deep and awful
accents of Richard the Lion-hearted.
But the Disinherited Knight spoke not a word in reply to the
compliment of the Prince, which he only acknowledged with a
profound obeisance.
The horse was led into the lists by two grooms richly dressed,
the animal itself being fully accoutred with the richest
war-furniture; which, however, scarcely added to the value of the
noble creature in the eyes of those who were judges. Laying one
hand upon the pommel of the saddle, the Disinherited Knight
vaulted at once upon the back of the steed without making use of
the stirrup, and, brandishing aloft his lance, rode twice around
the lists, exhibiting the points and paces of the horse with the
skill of a perfect horseman.
The appearance of vanity, which might otherwise have been
attributed to this display, was removed by the propriety shown in
exhibiting to the best advantage the princely reward with which
he had been just honoured, and the Knight was again greeted by
the acclamations of all present.
In the meanwhile, the bustling Prior of Jorvaulx had reminded
Prince John, in a whisper, that the victor must now display his
good judgment, instead of his valour, by selecting from among the
beauties who graced the galleries a lady, who should fill the
throne of the Queen of Beauty and of Love, and deliver the prize
of the tourney upon the ensuing day. The Prince accordingly made
a sign with his truncheon, as the Knight passed him in his second
career around the lists. The Knight turned towards the throne,
and, sinking his lance, until the point was within a foot of the
ground, remained motionless, as if expecting John’s commands;
while all admired the sudden dexterity with which he instantly
reduced his fiery steed from a state of violent emotion and high
excitation to the stillness of an equestrian statue.
“Sir Disinherited Knight,” said Prince John, “since that is the
only title by which we can address you, it is now your duty, as
well as privilege, to name the fair lady, who, as Queen of Honour
and of Love, is to preside over next day’s festival. If, as a
stranger in our land, you should require the aid of other
judgment to guide your own, we can only say that Alicia, the
daughter of our gallant knight Waldemar Fitzurse, has at our
court been long held the first in beauty as in place.
Nevertheless, it is your undoubted prerogative to confer on whom
you please this crown, by the delivery of which to the lady of
your choice, the election of to-morrow’s Queen will be formal and
complete.---Raise your lance.”
The Knight obeyed; and Prince John placed upon its point a
coronet of green satin, having around its edge a circlet of gold,
the upper edge of which was relieved by arrow-points and hearts
placed interchangeably, like the strawberry leaves and balls upon
a ducal crown.
In the broad hint which he dropped respecting the daughter of
Waldemar Fitzurse, John had more than one motive, each the
offspring of a mind, which was a strange mixture of carelessness
and presumption with low artifice and cunning. He wished to
banish from the minds of the chivalry around him his own indecent
and unacceptable jest respecting the Jewess Rebecca; he was
desirous of conciliating Alicia’s father Waldemar, of whom he
stood in awe, and who had more than once shown himself
dissatisfied during the course of the day’s proceedings. He had
also a wish to establish himself in the good graces of the lady;
for John was at least as licentious in his pleasures as
profligate in his ambition. But besides all these reasons, he
was desirous to raise up against the Disinherited Knight (towards
whom he already entertained a strong dislike) a powerful enemy in
the person of Waldemar Fitzurse, who was likely, he thought,
highly to resent the injury done to his daughter, in case, as was
not unlikely, the victor should make another choice.
And so indeed it proved. For the Disinherited Knight passed the
gallery close to that of the Prince, in which the Lady Alicia was
seated in the full pride of triumphant beauty, and, pacing
forwards as slowly as he had hitherto rode swiftly around the
lists, he seemed to exercise his right of examining the numerous
fair faces which adorned that splendid circle.
It was worth while to see the different conduct of the beauties
who underwent this examination, during the time it was
proceeding. Some blushed, some assumed an air of pride and
dignity, some looked straight forward, and essayed to seem
utterly unconscious of what was going on, some drew back in
alarm, which was perhaps affected, some endeavoured to forbear
smiling, and there were two or three who laughed outright. There
were also some who dropped their veils over their charms; but, as
the Wardour Manuscript says these were fair ones of ten years
standing, it may be supposed that, having had their full share of
such vanities, they were willing to withdraw their claim, in
order to give a fair chance to the rising beauties of the age.
At length the champion paused beneath the balcony in which the
Lady Rowena was placed, and the expectation of the spectators was
excited to the utmost.
It must be owned, that if an interest displayed in his success
could have bribed the Disinherited Knight, the part of the lists
before which he paused had merited his predilection. Cedric the
Saxon, overjoyed at the discomfiture of the Templar, and still
more so at the miscarriage of his two malevolent neighbours,
Front-de-Boeuf and Malvoisin, had, with his body half stretched
over the balcony, accompanied the victor in each course, not with
his eyes only, but with his whole heart and soul. The Lady
Rowena had watched the progress of the day with equal attention,
though without openly betraying the same intense interest. Even
the unmoved Athelstane had shown symptoms of shaking off his
apathy, when, calling for a huge goblet of muscadine, he quaffed
it to the health of the Disinherited Knight. Another group,
stationed under the gallery occupied by the Saxons, had shown no
less interest in the fate of the day.
“Father Abraham!” said Isaac of York, when the first course was
run betwixt the Templar and the Disinherited Knight, “how
fiercely that Gentile rides! Ah, the good horse that was brought
all the long way from Barbary, he takes no more care of him than
if he were a wild ass’s colt---and the noble armour, that was
worth so many zecchins to Joseph Pareira, the armourer of Milan,
besides seventy in the hundred of profits, he cares for it as
little as if he had found it in the highways!”
“If he risks his own person and limbs, father,” said Rebecca, “in
doing such a dreadful battle, he can scarce be expected to spare
his horse and armour.”
“Child!” replied Isaac, somewhat heated, “thou knowest not what
thou speakest---His neck and limbs are his own, but his horse and
armour belong to---Holy Jacob! what was I about to say!
---Nevertheless, it is a good youth---See, Rebecca! see, he is
again about to go up to battle against the Philistine---Pray,
child---pray for the safety of the good youth,---and of the
speedy horse, and the rich armour.---God of my fathers!” he again
exclaimed, “he hath conquered, and the uncircumcised Philistine
hath fallen before his lance,---even as Og the King of Bashan,
and Sihon, King of the Amorites, fell before the sword of our
fathers!---Surely he shall take their gold and their silver, and
their war-horses, and their armour of brass and of steel, for a
prey and for a spoil.”
The same anxiety did the worthy Jew display during every course
that was run, seldom failing to hazard a hasty calculation
concerning the value of the horse and armour which was forfeited
to the champion upon each new success. There had been therefore
no small interest taken in the success of the Disinherited
Knight, by those who occupied the part of the lists before which
he now paused.
Whether from indecision, or some other motive of hesitation, the
champion of the day remained stationary for more than a minute,
while the eyes of the silent audience were riveted upon his
motions; and then, gradually and gracefully sinking the point of
his lance, he deposited the coronet which it supported at the
feet of the fair Rowena. The trumpets instantly sounded, while
the heralds proclaimed the Lady Rowena the Queen of Beauty and of
Love for the ensuing day, menacing with suitable penalties those
who should be disobedient to her authority. They then repeated
their cry of Largesse, to which Cedric, in the height of his joy,
replied by an ample donative, and to which Athelstane, though
less promptly, added one equally large.
There was some murmuring among the damsels of Norman descent, who
were as much unused to see the preference given to a Saxon
beauty, as the Norman nobles were to sustain defeat in the games
of chivalry which they themselves had introduced. But these
sounds of disaffection were drowned by
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