Ivanhoe - Walter Scott (bookreader txt) 📗

Besides these subjects of anxiety, the Saxon thane was impatient for the presence of his favourite clown Wamba, whose jests, such as they were, served for a sort of seasoning to his evening meal, and to the deep draughts of ale and wine with which he was in the habit of accompanying it. Add to all this, Cedric had fasted since noon, and his usual supper hour was long past, a cause of irritation common to country squires, both in ancient and modern times. His displeasure was expressed in broken sentences, partly muttered to himself, partly addressed to the domestics who stood around; and particularly to his cupbearer, who offered him from time to time, as a sedative, a silver goblet filled with wine⁠—“Why tarries the Lady Rowena?”

“She is but changing her headgear,” replied a female attendant, with as much confidence as the favourite lady’s-maid usually answers the master of a modern family; “you would not wish her to sit down to the banquet in her hood and kirtle? and no lady within the shire can be quicker in arraying herself than my mistress.”

This undeniable argument produced a sort of acquiescent umph! on the part of the Saxon, with the addition, “I wish her devotion may choose fair weather for the next visit to St. John’s Kirk;⁠—but what, in the name of ten devils,” continued he, turning to the cupbearer, and raising his voice as if happy to have found a channel into which he might divert his indignation without fear or control⁠—“what, in the name of ten devils, keeps Gurth so long afield? I suppose we shall have an evil account of the herd; he was wont to be a faithful and cautious drudge, and I had destined him for something better; perchance I might even have made him one of my warders.”10

Oswald the cupbearer modestly suggested, “that it was scarce an hour since the tolling of the curfew;” an ill-chosen apology, since it turned upon a topic so harsh to Saxon ears.

“The foul fiend,” exclaimed Cedric, “take the curfew-bell, and the tyrannical bastard by whom it was devised, and the heartless slave who names it with a Saxon tongue to a Saxon ear! The curfew!” he added, pausing, “ay, the curfew; which compels true men to extinguish their lights, that thieves and robbers may work their deeds in darkness!⁠—Ay, the curfew;⁠—Reginald Front-de-Boeuf and Philip de Malvoisin know the use of the curfew as well as William the Bastard himself, or e’er a Norman adventurer that fought at Hastings. I shall hear, I guess, that my property has been swept off to save from starving the hungry banditti, whom they cannot support but by theft and robbery. My faithful slave is murdered, and my goods are taken for a prey⁠—and Wamba⁠—where is Wamba? Said not someone he had gone forth with Gurth?”

Oswald replied in the affirmative.

“Ay? why this is better and better! he is carried off too, the Saxon fool, to serve the Norman lord. Fools are we all indeed that serve them, and fitter subjects for their scorn and laughter, than if we were born with but half our wits. But I will be avenged,” he added, starting from his chair in impatience at the supposed injury, and catching hold of his boar-spear; “I will go with my complaint to the great council; I have friends, I have followers⁠—man to man will I appeal the Norman to the lists; let him come in his plate and his mail, and all that can render cowardice bold; I have sent such a javelin as this through a stronger fence than three of their war shields!⁠—Haply they think me old; but they shall find, alone and childless as I am, the blood of Hereward is in the veins of Cedric.⁠—Ah, Wilfred, Wilfred!” he exclaimed in a lower tone, “couldst thou have ruled thine unreasonable passion, thy father had not been left in his age like the solitary oak that throws out its shattered and unprotected branches against the full sweep of the tempest!” The reflection seemed to conjure into sadness his irritated feelings. Replacing his javelin, he resumed his seat, bent his looks downward, and appeared to be absorbed in melancholy reflection.

From his musing, Cedric was suddenly awakened by the blast of a horn, which was replied to by the clamorous yells and barking of all the dogs in the hall, and some twenty or thirty which were quartered in other parts of the building. It cost some exercise of the white truncheon, well seconded by the exertions of the domestics, to silence this canine clamour.

“To the gate, knaves!” said the Saxon, hastily, as soon as the tumult was so much appeased that the dependants could hear his voice. “See what tidings that horn tells us of⁠—to announce, I ween, some hership11 and robbery which has been done upon my lands.”

Returning in less than three minutes, a warder announced “that the Prior Aymer of Jorvaulx, and the good knight Brian de Bois-Guilbert, commander of the valiant and venerable order of Knights Templars, with a small retinue, requested hospitality and lodging for the night, being on their way to a tournament which was to be held not far from Ashby-de-la-Zouche, on the second day from the present.”

“Aymer, the Prior Aymer? Brian de Bois-Guilbert?”⁠—muttered Cedric; “Normans both;⁠—but Norman or Saxon, the hospitality of Rotherwood must not be impeached; they are welcome, since they have chosen to halt⁠—more welcome would they have been to have ridden further on their way⁠—But it were unworthy to murmur for a night’s lodging and a night’s food; in the quality of guests, at least, even Normans must suppress their insolence.⁠—Go, Hundebert,” he added, to a sort of majordomo who stood behind him with a white wand; “take six of the attendants, and introduce the strangers to the guests’ lodging. Look after their horses and mules, and see their train lack nothing. Let them have change