Ivanhoe, Walter Scott [the lemonade war series txt] 📗
- Author: Walter Scott
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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
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