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

his person.

“These twenty nobles,” he said, “which, with the bugle, thou hast

fairly won, are thine own; we will make them fifty, if thou wilt

take livery and service with us as a yeoman of our body guard,

and be near to our person. For never did so strong a hand bend a

bow, or so true an eye direct a shaft.”

“Pardon me, noble Prince,” said Locksley; “but I have vowed, that

if ever I take service, it should be with your royal brother King

Richard. These twenty nobles I leave to Hubert, who has this day

drawn as brave a bow as his grandsire did at Hastings. Had his

modesty not refused the trial, he would have hit the wand as well

I.”

Hubert shook his head as he received with reluctance the bounty

of the stranger, and Locksley, anxious to escape further

observation, mixed with the crowd, and was seen no more.

The victorious archer would not perhaps have escaped John’s

attention so easily, had not that Prince had other subjects of

anxious and more important meditation pressing upon his mind at

that instant. He called upon his chamberlain as he gave the

signal for retiring from the lists, and commanded him instantly

to gallop to Ashby, and seek out Isaac the Jew. “Tell the dog,”

he said, “to send me, before sun-down, two thousand crowns. He

knows the security; but thou mayst show him this ring for a

token. The rest of the money must be paid at York within six

days. If he neglects, I will have the unbelieving villain’s

head. Look that thou pass him not on the way; for the

circumcised slave was displaying his stolen finery amongst us.”

So saying, the Prince resumed his horse, and returned to Ashby,

the whole crowd breaking up and dispersing upon his retreat.

CHAPTER XIV

In rough magnificence array’d,

When ancient Chivalry display’d

The pomp of her heroic games,

And crested chiefs and tissued dames

Assembled, at the clarion’s call,

In some proud castle’s high arch’d hall.

Warton

Prince John held his high festival in the Castle of Ashby. This

was not the same building of which the stately ruins still

interest the traveller, and which was erected at a later period

by the Lord Hastings, High Chamberlain of England, one of the

first victims of the tyranny of Richard the Third, and yet better

known as one of Shakspeare’s characters than by his historical

fame. The castle and town of Ashby, at this time, belonged to

Roger de Quincy, Earl of Winchester, who, during the period of

our history, was absent in the Holy Land. Prince John, in the

meanwhile, occupied his castle, and disposed of his domains

without scruple; and seeking at present to dazzle men’s eyes by

his hospitality and magnificence, had given orders for great

preparations, in order to render the banquet as splendid as

possible.

The purveyors of the Prince, who exercised on this and other

occasions the full authority of royalty, had swept the country of

all that could be collected which was esteemed fit for their

master’s table. Guests also were invited in great numbers; and

in the necessity in which he then found himself of courting

popularity, Prince John had extended his invitation to a few

distinguished Saxon and Danish families, as well as to the Norman

nobility and gentry of the neighbourhood. However despised and

degraded on ordinary occasions, the great numbers of the

Anglo-Saxons must necessarily render them formidable in the civil

commotions which seemed approaching, and it was an obvious point

of policy to secure popularity with their leaders.

It was accordingly the Prince’s intention, which he for some time

maintained, to treat these unwonted guests with a courtesy to

which they had been little accustomed. But although no man with

less scruple made his ordinary habits and feelings bend to his

interest, it was the misfortune of this Prince, that his levity

and petulance were perpetually breaking out, and undoing all that

had been gained by his previous dissimulation.

Of this fickle temper he gave a memorable example in Ireland,

when sent thither by his father, Henry the Second, with the

purpose of buying golden opinions of the inhabitants of that new

and important acquisition to the English crown. Upon this

occasion the Irish chieftains contended which should first offer

to the young Prince their loyal homage and the kiss of peace.

But, instead of receiving their salutations with courtesy, John

and his petulant attendants could not resist the temptation of

pulling the long beards of the Irish chieftains; a conduct which,

as might have been expected, was highly resented by these

insulted dignitaries, and produced fatal consequences to the

English domination in Ireland. It is necessary to keep these

inconsistencies of John’s character in view, that the reader may

understand his conduct during the present evening.

In execution of the resolution which he had formed during his

cooler moments, Prince John received Cedric and Athelstane with

distinguished courtesy, and expressed his disappointment, without

resentment, when the indisposition of Rowena was alleged by the

former as a reason for her not attending upon his gracious

summons. Cedric and Athelstane were both dressed in the ancient

Saxon garb, which, although not unhandsome in itself, and in the

present instance composed of costly materials, was so remote in

shape and appearance from that of the other guests, that Prince

John took great credit to himself with Waldemar Fitzurse for

refraining from laughter at a sight which the fashion of the day

rendered ridiculous. Yet, in the eye of sober judgment, the

short close tunic and long mantle of the Saxons was a more

graceful, as well as a more convenient dress, than the garb of

the Normans, whose under garment was a long doublet, so loose as

to resemble a shirt or waggoner’s frock, covered by a cloak of

scanty dimensions, neither fit to defend the wearer from cold or

from rain, and the only purpose of which appeared to be to

display as much fur, embroidery, and jewellery work, as the

ingenuity of the tailor could contrive to lay upon it. The

Emperor Charlemagne, in whose reign they were first introduced,

seems to have been very sensible of the inconveniences arising

from the fashion of this garment. “In Heaven’s name,” said he,

“to what purpose serve these abridged cloaks? If we are in bed

they are no cover, on horseback they are no protection from the

wind and rain, and when seated, they do not guard our legs from

the damp or the frost.”

Nevertheless, spite of this imperial objurgation, the short

cloaks continued in fashion down to the time of which we treat,

and particularly among the princes of the House of Anjou. They

were therefore in universal use among Prince John’s courtiers;

and the long mantle, which formed the upper garment of the

Saxons, was held in proportional derision.

The guests were seated at a table which groaned under the

quantity of good cheer. The numerous cooks who attended on the

Prince’s progress, having exerted all their art in varying the

forms in which the ordinary provisions were served up, had

succeeded almost as well as the modern professors of the culinary

art in rendering them perfectly unlike their natural appearance.

Besides these dishes of domestic origin, there were various

delicacies brought from foreign parts, and a quantity of rich

pastry, as well as of the simnel-bread and wastle cakes, which

were only used at the tables of the highest nobility. The

banquet was crowned with the richest wines, both foreign and

domestic.

But, though luxurious, the Norman nobles were not generally

speaking an intemperate race. While indulging themselves in the

pleasures of the table, they aimed at delicacy, but avoided

excess, and were apt to attribute gluttony and drunkenness to the

vanquished Saxons, as vices peculiar to their inferior station.

Prince John, indeed, and those who courted his pleasure by

imitating his foibles, were apt to indulge to excess in the

pleasures of the trencher and the goblet; and indeed it is well

known that his death was occasioned by a surfeit upon peaches and

new ale. His conduct, however, was an exception to the general

manners of his countrymen.

With sly gravity, interrupted only by private signs to each

other, the Norman knights and nobles beheld the ruder demeanour

of Athelstane and Cedric at a banquet, to the form and fashion of

which they were unaccustomed. And while their manners were thus

the subject of sarcastic observation, the untaught Saxons

unwittingly transgressed several of the arbitrary rules

established for the regulation of society. Now, it is well

known, that a man may with more impunity be guilty of an actual

breach either of real good breeding or of good morals, than

appear ignorant of the most minute point of fashionable

etiquette. Thus Cedric, who dried his hands with a towel,

instead of suffering the moisture to exhale by waving them

gracefully in the air, incurred more ridicule than his companion

Athelstane, when he swallowed to his own single share the whole

of a large pasty composed of the most exquisite foreign

delicacies, and termed at that time a “Karum-Pie”. When,

however, it was discovered, by a serious cross-examination, that

the Thane of Coningsburgh (or Franklin, as the Normans termed

him) had no idea what he had been devouring, and that he had

taken the contents of the Karum-pie for larks and pigeons,

whereas they were in fact beccaficoes and nightingales, his

ignorance brought him in for an ample share of the ridicule which

would have been more justly bestowed on his gluttony.

The long feast had at length its end; and, while the goblet

circulated freely, men talked of the feats of the preceding

tournament,---of the unknown victor in the archery games, of the

Black Knight, whose self-denial had induced him to withdraw from

the honours he had won,---and of the gallant Ivanhoe, who had so

dearly bought the honours of the day. The topics were treated

with military frankness, and the jest and laugh went round the

hall. The brow of Prince John alone was overclouded during these

discussions; some overpowering care seemed agitating his mind,

and it was only when he received occasional hints from his

attendants, that he seemed to take interest in what was passing

around him. On such occasions he would start up, quaff a cup of

wine as if to raise his spirits, and then mingle in the

conversation by some observation made abruptly or at random.

“We drink this beaker,” said he, “to the health of Wilfred of

Ivanhoe, champion of this Passage of Arms, and grieve that his

wound renders him absent from our board---Let all fill to the

pledge, and especially Cedric of Rotherwood, the worthy father of

a son so promising.”

“No, my lord,” replied Cedric, standing up, and placing on the

table his untasted cup, “I yield not the name of son to the

disobedient youth, who at once despises my commands, and

relinquishes the manners and customs of his fathers.”

“‘Tis impossible,” cried Prince John, with well-feigned

astonishment, “that so gallant a knight should be an unworthy or

disobedient son!”

“Yet, my lord,” answered Cedric, “so it is with this Wilfred.

He left my homely dwelling to mingle with the gay nobility of

your brother’s court, where he learned to do those tricks of

horsemanship which you prize so highly. He left it contrary to

my wish and command; and in the days of Alfred that would have

been termed disobedience---ay, and a crime severely punishable.”

“Alas!” replied Prince John, with a deep sigh of affected

sympathy, “since your son was a follower of my unhappy brother,

it need not be enquired where or from whom he learned the lesson

of filial disobedience.”

Thus spake Prince John, wilfully forgetting, that of all the sons

of Henry the Second,