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

which were borne by his two

esquires behind him. His face, though partly hidden by a long

plume which floated down from his barrel-cap, bore a strong and

mingled expression of passion, in which pride seemed to contend

with irresolution. He looked ghastly pale, as if he had not

slept for several nights, yet reined his pawing war-horse with

the habitual ease and grace proper to the best lance of the Order

of the Temple. His general appearance was grand and commanding;

but, looking at him with attention, men read that in his dark

features, from which they willingly withdrew their eyes.

On either side rode Conrade of Mont-Fitchet, and Albert de

Malvoisin, who acted as godfathers to the champion. They were in

their robes of peace, the white dress of the Order. Behind them

followed other Companions of the Temple, with a long train of

esquires and pages clad in black, aspirants to the honour of

being one day Knights of the Order. After these neophytes came a

guard of warders on foot, in the same sable livery, amidst whose

partisans might be seen the pale form of the accused, moving with

a slow but undismayed step towards the scene of her fate. She

was stript of all her ornaments, lest perchance there should be

among them some of those amulets which Satan was supposed to

bestow upon his victims, to deprive them of the power of

confession even when under the torture. 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, and the most hardened bigot regretted the fate

that had converted a creature so goodly into a vessel of wrath,

and a waged slave of the devil.

A crowd of inferior personages belonging to the Preceptory

followed the victim, all moving with the utmost order, with arms

folded, and looks bent upon the ground.

This slow procession moved up the gentle eminence, on the summit

of which was the tiltyard, and, entering the lists, marched once

around them from right to left, and when they had completed the

circle, made a halt. There was then a momentary bustle, while

the Grand Master and all his attendants, excepting the champion

and his godfathers, dismounted from their horses, which were

immediately removed out of the lists by the esquires, who were in

attendance for that purpose.

The unfortunate Rebecca was conducted to the black chair placed

near the pile. On her first glance at the terrible spot where

preparations were making for a death alike dismaying to the mind

and painful to the body, she was observed to shudder and shut her

eyes, praying internally doubtless, for her lips moved though no

speech was heard. In the space of a minute she opened her eyes,

looked fixedly on the pile as if to familiarize her mind with the

object, and then slowly and naturally turned away her head.

Meanwhile, the Grand Master had assumed his seat; and when the

chivalry of his order was placed around and behind him, each in

his due rank, a loud and long flourish of the trumpets announced

that the Court were seated for judgment. Malvoisin, then, acting

as godfather of the champion, stepped forward, and laid the glove

of the Jewess, which was the pledge of battle, at the feet of the

Grand Master.

“Valorous Lord, and reverend Father,” said he, “here standeth the

good Knight, Brian de Bois-Guilbert, Knight Preceptor of the

Order of the Temple, who, by accepting the pledge of battle which

I now lay at your reverence’s feet, hath become bound to do his

devoir in combat this day, to maintain that this Jewish maiden,

by name Rebecca, hath justly deserved the doom passed upon her in

a Chapter of this most Holy Order of the Temple of Zion,

condemning her to die as a sorceress;---here, I say, he standeth,

such battle to do, knightly and honourable, if such be your noble

and sanctified pleasure.”

“Hath he made oath,” said the Grand Master, “that his quarrel is

just and honourable? Bring forward the Crucifix and the ‘Te

igitur’.”

“Sir, and most reverend father,” answered Malvoisin, readily,

“our brother here present hath already sworn to the truth of his

accusation in the hand of the good Knight Conrade de

Mont-Fitchet; and otherwise he ought not to be sworn, seeing that

his adversary is an unbeliever, and may take no oath.”

This explanation was satisfactory, to Albert’s great joy; for the

wily knight had foreseen the great difficulty, or rather

impossibility, of prevailing upon Brian de Bois-Guilbert to take

such an oath before the assembly, and had invented this excuse to

escape the necessity of his doing so.

The Grand Master, having allowed the apology of Albert Malvoisin,

commanded the herald to stand forth and do his devoir. The

trumpets then again flourished, and a herald, stepping forward,

proclaimed aloud,---“Oyez, oyez, oyez.---Here standeth the good

Knight, Sir Brian de Bois-Guilbert, ready to do battle with any

knight of free blood, who will sustain the quarrel allowed and

allotted to the Jewess Rebecca, to try by champion, in respect of

lawful essoine of her own body; and to such champion the reverend

and valorous Grand Master here present allows a fair field, and

equal partition of sun and wind, and whatever else appertains to

a fair combat.” The trumpets again sounded, and there was a dead

pause of many minutes.

“No champion appears for the appellant,” said the Grand Master.

“Go, herald, and ask her whether she expects any one to do battle

for her in this her cause.” The herald went to the chair in which

Rebecca was seated, and Bois-Guilbert suddenly turning his

horse’s head toward that end of the lists, in spite of hints on

either side from Malvoisin and Mont-Fitchet, was by the side of

Rebecca’s chair as soon as the herald.

“Is this regular, and according to the law of combat?” said

Malvoisin, looking to the Grand Master.

“Albert de Malvoisin, it is,” answered Beaumanoir; “for in this

appeal to the judgment of God, we may not prohibit parties from

having that communication with each other, which may best tend to

bring forth the truth of the quarrel.”

In the meantime, the herald spoke to Rebecca in these terms:

---“Damsel, the Honourable and Reverend the Grand Master demands

of thee, if thou art prepared with a champion to do battle this

day in thy behalf, or if thou dost yield thee as one justly

condemned to a deserved doom?”

“Say to the Grand Master,” replied Rebecca, “that I maintain my

innocence, and do not yield me as justly condemned, lest I become

guilty of mine own blood. Say to him, that I challenge such delay

as his forms will permit, to see if God, whose opportunity is in

man’s extremity, will raise me up a deliverer; and when such

uttermost space is passed, may His holy will be done!” The

herald retired to carry this answer to the Grand Master.

“God forbid,” said Lucas Beaumanoir, “that Jew or Pagan should

impeach us of injustice!---Until the shadows be cast from the

west to the eastward, will we wait to see if a champion shall

appear for this unfortunate woman. When the day is so far

passed, let her prepare for death.”

The herald communicated the words of the Grand Master to Rebecca,

who bowed her head submissively, folded her arms, and, looking up

towards heaven, seemed to expect that aid from above which she

could scarce promise herself from man. During this awful pause,

the voice of Bois-Guilbert broke upon her ear---it was but a

whisper, yet it startled her more than the summons of the herald

had appeared to do.

“Rebecca,” said the Templar, “dost thou hear me?”

“I have no portion in thee, cruel, hard-hearted man,” said the

unfortunate maiden.

“Ay, but dost thou understand my words?” said the Templar; “for

the sound of my voice is frightful in mine own ears. I scarce

know on what ground we stand, or for what purpose they have

brought us hither.---This listed space---that chair---these

faggots---I know their purpose, and yet it appears to me like

something unreal---the fearful picture of a vision, which appals

my sense with hideous fantasies, but convinces not my reason.”

“My mind and senses keep touch and time,” answered Rebecca, “and

tell me alike that these faggots are destined to consume my

earthly body, and open a painful but a brief passage to a better

world.”

“Dreams, Rebecca,---dreams,” answered the Templar; “idle visions,

rejected by the wisdom of your own wiser Sadducees. Hear me,

Rebecca,” he said, proceeding with animation; “a better chance

hast thou for life and liberty than yonder knaves and dotard

dream of. Mount thee behind me on my steed---on Zamor, the

gallant horse that never failed his rider. I won him in single

fight from the Soldan of Trebizond---mount, I say, behind me---in

one short hour is pursuit and enquiry far behind---a new world of

pleasure opens to thee---to me a new career of fame. Let them

speak the doom which I despise, and erase the name of

Bois-Guilbert from their list of monastic slaves! I will wash

out with blood whatever blot they may dare to cast on my

scutcheon.”

“Tempter,” said Rebecca, “begone!---Not in this last extremity

canst thou move me one hair’s-breadth from my resting place

---surrounded as I am by foes, I hold thee as my worst and most

deadly enemy---avoid thee, in the name of God!”

Albert Malvoisin, alarmed and impatient at the duration of their

conference, now advanced to interrupt it.

“Hath the maiden acknowledged her guilt?” he demanded of

Bois-Guilbert; “or is she resolute in her denial?”

“She is indeed resolute,” said Bois-Guilbert.

“Then,” said Malvoisin, “must thou, noble brother, resume thy

place to attend the issue---The shades are changing on the circle

of the dial---Come, brave Bois-Guilbert---come, thou hope of our

holy Order, and soon to be its head.”

As he spoke in this soothing tone, he laid his hand on the

knight’s bridle, as if to lead him back to his station.

“False villain! what meanest thou by thy hand on my rein?” said

Sir Brian, angrily. And shaking off his companion’s grasp, he

rode back to the upper end of the lists.

“There is yet spirit in him,” said Malvoisin apart to

Mont-Fitchet, “were it well directed---but, like the Greek fire,

it burns whatever approaches it.”

The Judges had now been two hours in the lists, awaiting in vain

the appearance of a champion.

“And reason good,” said Friar Tuck, “seeing she is a Jewess---and

yet, by mine Order, it is hard that so young and beautiful a

creature should perish without one blow being struck in her

behalf! Were she ten times a witch, provided she were but the

least bit of a Christian, my quarter-staff should ring noon on

the steel cap of yonder fierce Templar, ere he carried the matter

off thus.”

It was, however, the general belief that no one could or would

appear for a Jewess, accused of sorcery; and the knights,

instigated by Malvoisin, whispered to each other, that it was

time to declare the pledge of Rebecca forfeited. At this instant

a knight, urging his horse to speed, appeared on the plain

advancing towards the lists. A hundred voices exclaimed, “A

champion! a champion!” And despite the prepossessions and

prejudices of the multitude, they shouted unanimously as the

knight rode into the tiltyard, The second glance, however, served

to destroy the hope that his timely arrival had excited. His

horse, urged for many miles to its utmost speed, appeared to reel

from fatigue, and the rider,