Ivanhoe - Walter Scott (e ink ebook reader txt) 📗

the popular shout of “Long

live the Lady Rowena, the chosen and lawful Queen of Love and of

Beauty!” To which many in the lower area added, “Long live the

Saxon Princess! long live the race of the immortal Alfred!”

However unacceptable these sounds might be to Prince John, and to

those around him, he saw himself nevertheless obliged to confirm

the nomination of the victor, and accordingly calling to horse,

he left his throne; and mounting his jennet, accompanied by his

train, he again entered the lists. The Prince paused a moment

beneath the gallery of the Lady Alicia, to whom he paid his

compliments, observing, at the same time, to those around him

---“By my halidome, sirs! if the Knight’s feats in arms have

shown that he hath limbs and sinews, his choice hath no less

proved that his eyes are none of the clearest.”

It was on this occasion, as during his whole life, John’s

misfortune, not perfectly to understand the characters of those

whom he wished to conciliate. Waldemar Fitzurse was rather

offended than pleased at the Prince stating thus broadly an

opinion, that his daughter had been slighted.

“I know no right of chivalry,” he said, “more precious or

inalienable than that of each free knight to choose his lady-love

by his own judgment. My daughter courts distinction from no one;

and in her own character, and in her own sphere, will never fail

to receive the full proportion of that which is her due.”

Prince John replied not; but, spurring his horse, as if to give

vent to his vexation, he made the animal bound forward to the

gallery where Rowena was seated, with the crown still at her

feet.

“Assume,” he said, “fair lady, the mark of your sovereignty, to

which none vows homage more sincerely than ourself, John of

Anjou; and if it please you to-day, with your noble sire and

friends, to grace our banquet in the Castle of Ashby, we shall

learn to know the empress to whose service we devote to-morrow.”

Rowena remained silent, and Cedric answered for her in his native

Saxon.

“The Lady Rowena,” he said, “possesses not the language in which

to reply to your courtesy, or to sustain her part in your

festival. I also, and the noble Athelstane of Coningsburgh,

speak only the language, and practise only the manners, of our

fathers. We therefore decline with thanks your Highness’s

courteous invitation to the banquet. To-morrow, the Lady Rowena

will take upon her the state to which she has been called by the

free election of the victor Knight, confirmed by the acclamations

of the people.”

So saying, he lifted the coronet, and placed it upon Rowena’s

head, in token of her acceptance of the temporary authority

assigned to her.

“What says he?” said Prince John, affecting not to understand the

Saxon language, in which, however, he was well skilled. The

purport of Cedric’s speech was repeated to him in French. “It is

well,” he said; “to-morrow we will ourself conduct this mute

sovereign to her seat of dignity.---You, at least, Sir Knight,”

he added, turning to the victor, who had remained near the

gallery, “will this day share our banquet?”

The Knight, speaking for the first time, in a low and hurried

voice, excused himself by pleading fatigue, and the necessity of

preparing for to-morrow’s encounter.

“It is well,” said Prince John, haughtily; “although unused to

such refusals, we will endeavour to digest our banquet as we may,

though ungraced by the most successful in arms, and his elected

Queen of Beauty.”

So saying, he prepared to leave the lists with his glittering

train, and his turning his steed for that purpose, was the signal

for the breaking up and dispersion of the spectators.

Yet, with the vindictive memory proper to offended pride,

especially when combined with conscious want of desert, John had

hardly proceeded three paces, ere again, turning around, he fixed

an eye of stern resentment upon the yeoman who had displeased him

in the early part of the day, and issued his commands to the

men-at-arms who stood near---“On your life, suffer not that

fellow to escape.”

The yeoman stood the angry glance of the Prince with the same

unvaried steadiness which had marked his former deportment,

saying, with a smile, “I have no intention to leave Ashby until

the day after to-morrow---I must see how Staffordshire and

Leicestershire can draw their bows---the forests of Needwood and

Charnwood must rear good archers.”

“I,” said Prince John to his attendants, but not in direct reply,

---“I will see how he can draw his own; and woe betide him

unless his skill should prove some apology for his insolence!”

“It is full time,” said De Bracy, “that the ‘outrecuidance’*

Presumption, insolence.

of these peasants should be restrained by some striking example.”

Waldemar Fitzurse, who probably thought his patron was not taking

the readiest road to popularity, shrugged up his shoulders and

was silent. Prince John resumed his retreat from the lists, and

the dispersion of the multitude became general.

In various routes, according to the different quarters from which

they came, and in groups of various numbers, the spectators were

seen retiring over the plain. By far the most numerous part

streamed towards the town of Ashby, where many of the

distinguished persons were lodged in the castle, and where others

found accommodation in the town itself. Among these were most of

the knights who had already appeared in the tournament, or who

proposed to fight there the ensuing day, and who, as they rode

slowly along, talking over the events of the day, were greeted

with loud shouts by the populace. The same acclamations were

bestowed upon Prince John, although he was indebted for them

rather to the splendour of his appearance and train, than to the

popularity of his character.

A more sincere and more general, as well as a better-merited

acclamation, attended the victor of the day, until, anxious to

withdraw himself from popular notice, he accepted the

accommodation of one of those pavilions pitched at the

extremities of the lists, the use of which was courteously

tendered him by the marshals of the field. On his retiring to

his tent, many who had lingered in the lists, to look upon and

form conjectures concerning him, also dispersed.

The signs and sounds of a tumultuous concourse of men lately

crowded together in one place, and agitated by the same passing

events, were now exchanged for the distant hum of voices of

different groups retreating in all directions, and these speedily

died away in silence. No other sounds were heard save the voices

of the menials who stripped the galleries of their cushions and

tapestry, in order to put them in safety for the night, and

wrangled among themselves for the half-used bottles of wine and

relics of the refreshment which had been served round to the

spectators.

Beyond the precincts of the lists more than one forge was

erected; and these now began to glimmer through the twilight,

announcing the toil of the armourers, which was to continue

through the whole night, in order to repair or alter the suits of

armour to be used again on the morrow.

A strong guard of men-at-arms, renewed at intervals, from two

hours to two hours, surrounded the lists, and kept watch during

the night.

CHAPTER X

Thus, like the sad presaging raven, that tolls

The sick man’s passport in her hollow beak,

And in the shadow of the silent night

Doth shake contagion from her sable wings;

Vex’d and tormented, runs poor Barrabas,

With fatal curses towards these Christians.

Jew of Malta

The Disinherited Knight had no sooner reached his pavilion, than

squires and pages in abundance tendered their services to disarm

him, to bring fresh attire, and to offer him the refreshment of

the bath. Their zeal on this occasion was perhaps sharpened by

curiosity, since every one desired to know who the knight was

that had gained so many laurels, yet had refused, even at the

command of Prince John, to lift his visor or to name his name.

But their officious inquisitiveness was not gratified. The

Disinherited Knight refused all other assistance save that of his

own squire, or rather yeoman---a clownish-looking man, who, wrapt

in a cloak of dark-coloured felt, and having his head and face

half-buried in a Norman bonnet made of black fur, seemed to

affect the incognito as much as his master. All others being

excluded from the tent, this attendant relieved his master from

the more burdensome parts of his armour, and placed food and wine

before him, which the exertions of the day rendered very

acceptable.

The Knight had scarcely finished a hasty meal, ere his menial

announced to him that five men, each leading a barbed steed,

desired to speak with him. The Disinherited Knight had exchanged

his armour for the long robe usually worn by those of his

condition, which, being furnished with a hood, concealed the

features, when such was the pleasure of the wearer, almost as

completely as the visor of the helmet itself, but the twilight,

which was now fast darkening, would of itself have rendered a

disguise unnecessary, unless to persons to whom the face of an

individual chanced to be particularly well known.

The Disinherited Knight, therefore, stept boldly forth to the

front of his tent, and found in attendance the squires of the

challengers, whom he easily knew by their russet and black

dresses, each of whom led his master’s charger, loaded with the

armour in which he had that day fought.

“According to the laws of chivalry,” said the foremost of these

men, “I, Baldwin de Oyley, squire to the redoubted Knight Brian

de Bois-Guilbert, make offer to you, styling yourself, for the

present, the Disinherited Knight, of the horse and armour used by

the said Brian de Bois-Guilbert in this day’s Passage of Arms,

leaving it with your nobleness to retain or to ransom the same,

according to your pleasure; for such is the law of arms.”

The other squires repeated nearly the same formula, and then

stood to await the decision of the Disinherited Knight.

“To you four, sirs,” replied the Knight, addressing those who had

last spoken, “and to your honourable and valiant masters, I have

one common reply. Commend me to the noble knights, your masters,

and say, I should do ill to deprive them of steeds and arms which

can never be used by braver cavaliers.---I would I could here end

my message to these gallant knights; but being, as I term myself,

in truth and earnest, the Disinherited, I must be thus far bound

to your masters, that they will, of their courtesy, be pleased to

ransom their steeds and armour, since that which I wear I can

hardly term mine own.”

“We stand commissioned, each of us,” answered the squire of

Reginald Front-de-Boeuf, “to offer a hundred zecchins in ransom

of these horses and suits of armour.”

“It is sufficient,” said the Disinherited Knight. “Half the sum

my present necessities compel me to accept; of the remaining

half, distribute one moiety among yourselves, sir squires, and

divide the other half betwixt the heralds and the pursuivants,

and minstrels, and attendants.”

The squires, with cap in hand, and low reverences, expressed

their deep sense of a courtesy and generosity not often

practised, at least upon a scale so extensive. The Disinherited

Knight then addressed his discourse to Baldwin, the squire of

Brian de Bois-Guilbert. “From your master,” said he, “I will

accept neither arms nor ransom. Say to him in my name, that our

strife is not ended---no, not till we have fought as well with

swords as with lances---as well on foot as on horseback. To this

mortal quarrel he has himself defied me, and I shall not forget

the