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

prosecute his rebellious purposes, would stand in no

small need of a powerful protector who enjoyed Richard’s favour.

“Thou art speaking but sooth, Rebecca,” said Isaac, giving way to

these weighty arguments---“it were an offending of Heaven to

betray the secrets of the blessed Miriam; for the good which

Heaven giveth, is not rashly to be squandered upon others,

whether it be talents of gold and shekels of silver, or whether

it be the secret mysteries of a wise physician---assuredly they

should be preserved to those to whom Providence hath vouchsafed

them. And him whom the Nazarenes of England call the Lion’s

Heart, assuredly it were better for me to fall into the hands of

a strong lion of Idumea than into his, if he shall have got

assurance of my dealing with his brother. Wherefore I will lend

ear to thy counsel, and this youth shall journey with us unto

York, and our house shall be as a home to him until his wounds

shall be healed. And if he of the Lion Heart shall return to the

land, as is now noised abroad, then shall this Wilfred of Ivanhoe

be unto me as a wall of defence, when the king’s displeasure

shall burn high against thy father. And if he doth not return,

this Wilfred may natheless repay us our charges when he shall

gain treasure by the strength of his spear and of his sword, even

as he did yesterday and this day also. For the youth is a good

youth, and keepeth the day which he appointeth, and restoreth

that which he borroweth, and succoureth the Israelite, even the

child of my father’s house, when he is encompassed by strong

thieves and sons of Belial.”

It was not until evening was nearly closed that Ivanhoe was

restored to consciousness of his situation. He awoke from a

broken slumber, under the confused impressions which are

naturally attendant on the recovery from a state of

insensibility. He was unable for some time to recall exactly to

memory the circumstances which had preceded his fall in the

lists, or to make out any connected chain of the events in which

he had been engaged upon the yesterday. A sense of wounds and

injury, joined to great weakness and exhaustion, was mingled with

the recollection of blows dealt and received, of steeds rushing

upon each other, overthrowing and overthrown---of shouts and

clashing of arms, and all the heady tumult of a confused fight.

An effort to draw aside the curtain of his couch was in some

degree successful, although rendered difficult by the pain of his

wound.

To his great surprise he found himself in a room magnificently

furnished, but having cushions instead of chairs to rest upon,

and in other respects partaking so much of Oriental costume, that

he began to doubt whether he had not, during his sleep, been

transported back again to the land of Palestine. The impression

was increased, when, the tapestry being drawn aside, a female

form, dressed in a rich habit, which partook more of the Eastern

taste than that of Europe, glided through the door which it

concealed, and was followed by a swarthy domestic.

As the wounded knight was about to address this fair apparition,

she imposed silence by placing her slender finger upon her ruby

lips, while the attendant, approaching him, proceeded to uncover

Ivanhoe’s side, and the lovely Jewess satisfied herself that the

bandage was in its place, and the wound doing well. She

performed her task with a graceful and dignified simplicity and

modesty, which might, even in more civilized days, have served to

redeem it from whatever might seem repugnant to female delicacy.

The idea of so young and beautiful a person engaged in attendance

on a sick-bed, or in dressing the wound of one of a different

sex, was melted away and lost in that of a beneficent being

contributing her effectual aid to relieve pain, and to avert the

stroke of death. Rebecca’s few and brief directions were given

in the Hebrew language to the old domestic; and he, who had been

frequently her assistant in similar cases, obeyed them without

reply.

The accents of an unknown tongue, however harsh they might have

sounded when uttered by another, had, coming from the beautiful

Rebecca, the romantic and pleasing effect which fancy ascribes to

the charms pronounced by some beneficent fairy, unintelligible,

indeed, to the ear, but, from the sweetness of utterance, and

benignity of aspect, which accompanied them, touching and

affecting to the heart. Without making an attempt at further

question, Ivanhoe suffered them in silence to take the measures

they thought most proper for his recovery; and it was not until

those were completed, and this kind physician about to retire,

that his curiosity could no longer be suppressed.---“Gentle

maiden,” be began in the Arabian tongue, with which his Eastern

travels had rendered him familiar, and which he thought most

likely to be understood by the turban’d and caftan’d damsel who

stood before him---“I pray you, gentle maiden, of your

courtesy------”

But here he was interrupted by his fair physician, a smile which

she could scarce suppress dimpling for an instant a face, whose

general expression was that of contemplative melancholy. “I am

of England, Sir Knight, and speak the English tongue, although my

dress and my lineage belong to another climate.”

“Noble damsel,”---again the Knight of Ivanhoe began; and again

Rebecca hastened to interrupt him.

“Bestow not on me, Sir Knight,” she said, “the epithet of noble.

It is well you should speedily know that your handmaiden is a

poor Jewess, the daughter of that Isaac of York, to whom you were

so lately a good and kind lord. It well becomes him, and those

of his household, to render to you such careful tendance as your

present state necessarily demands.”

I know not whether the fair Rowena would have been altogether

satisfied with the species of emotion with which her devoted

knight had hitherto gazed on the beautiful features, and fair

form, and lustrous eyes, of the lovely Rebecca; eyes whose

brilliancy was shaded, and, as it were, mellowed, by the fringe

of her long silken eyelashes, and which a minstrel would have

compared to the evening star darting its rays through a bower of

jessamine. But Ivanhoe was too good a Catholic to retain the

same class of feelings towards a Jewess. This Rebecca had

foreseen, and for this very purpose she had hastened to mention

her father’s name and lineage; yet---for the fair and wise

daughter of Isaac was not without a touch of female weakness

---she could not but sigh internally when the glance of

respectful admiration, not altogether unmixed with tenderness,

with which Ivanhoe had hitherto regarded his unknown

benefactress, was exchanged at once for a manner cold, composed,

and collected, and fraught with no deeper feeling than that which

expressed a grateful sense of courtesy received from an

unexpected quarter, and from one of an inferior race. It was not

that Ivanhoe’s former carriage expressed more than that general

devotional homage which youth always pays to beauty; yet it was

mortifying that one word should operate as a spell to remove poor

Rebecca, who could not be supposed altogether ignorant of her

title to such homage, into a degraded class, to whom it could not

be honourably rendered.

But the gentleness and candour of Rebecca’s nature imputed no

fault to Ivanhoe for sharing in the universal prejudices of his

age and religion. On the contrary the fair Jewess, though

sensible her patient now regarded her as one of a race of

reprobation, with whom it was disgraceful to hold any beyond the

most necessary intercourse, ceased not to pay the same patient

and devoted attention to his safety and convalescence. She

informed him of the necessity they were under of removing to

York, and of her father’s resolution to transport him thither,

and tend him in his own house until his health should be

restored. Ivanhoe expressed great repugnance to this plan, which

he grounded on unwillingness to give farther trouble to his

benefactors.

“Was there not,” he said, “in Ashby, or near it, some Saxon

franklin, or even some wealthy peasant, who would endure the

burden of a wounded countryman’s residence with him until he

should be again able to bear his armour?---Was there no convent

of Saxon endowment, where he could be received?---Or could he not

be transported as far as Burton, where he was sure to find

hospitality with Waltheoff, the Abbot of St Withold’s, to whom he

was related?”

“Any, the worst of these harbourages,” said Rebecca, with a

melancholy smile, “would unquestionably be more fitting for your

residence than the abode of a despised Jew; yet, Sir Knight,

unless you would dismiss your physician, you cannot change your

lodging. Our nation, as you well know, can cure wounds, though

we deal not in inflicting them; and in our own family, in

particular, are secrets which have been handed down since the

days of Solomon, and of which you have already experienced the

advantages. No Nazarene---I crave your forgiveness, Sir Knight

---no Christian leech, within the four seas of Britain, could

enable you to bear your corslet within a month.”

“And how soon wilt THOU enable me to brook it?” said Ivanhoe,

impatiently.

“Within eight days, if thou wilt be patient and conformable to my

directions,” replied Rebecca.

“By Our Blessed Lady,” said Wilfred, “if it be not a sin to name

her here, it is no time for me or any true knight to be

bedridden; and if thou accomplish thy promise, maiden, I will pay

thee with my casque full of crowns, come by them as I may.”

“I will accomplish my promise,” said Rebecca, “and thou shalt

bear thine armour on the eighth day from hence, if thou will

grant me but one boon in the stead of the silver thou dost

promise me.”

“If it be within my power, and such as a true Christian knight

may yield to one of thy people,” replied Ivanhoe, “I will grant

thy boon blithely and thankfully.”

“Nay,” answered Rebecca, “I will but pray of thee to believe

henceforward that a Jew may do good service to a Christian,

without desiring other guerdon than the blessing of the Great

Father who made both Jew and Gentile.”

“It were sin to doubt it, maiden,” replied Ivanhoe; “and I repose

myself on thy skill without further scruple or question, well

trusting you will enable me to bear my corslet on the eighth day.

And now, my kind leech, let me enquire of the news abroad. What

of the noble Saxon Cedric and his household?---what of the lovely

Lady---” He stopt, as if unwilling to speak Rowena’s name in the

house of a Jew---“Of her, I mean, who was named Queen of the

tournament?”

“And who was selected by you, Sir Knight, to hold that dignity,

with judgment which was admired as much as your valour,” replied

Rebecca.

The blood which Ivanhoe had lost did not prevent a flush from

crossing his cheek, feeling that he had incautiously betrayed a

deep interest in Rowena by the awkward attempt he had made to

conceal it.

“It was less of her I would speak,” said he, “than of Prince

John; and I would fain know somewhat of a faithful squire, and

why he now attends me not?”

“Let me use my authority as a leech,” answered Rebecca, “and

enjoin you to keep silence, and avoid agitating reflections,

whilst I apprize you of what you desire to know. Prince John

hath broken off the tournament, and set forward in all haste

towards York, with the nobles, knights, and churchmen of his

party, after collecting such sums as they could wring, by fair

means or foul, from those who are esteemed the wealthy of the

land. It is said