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

distributed than money

by this active agent; and, in fine, nothing was left undone that

could determine the wavering, or animate the disheartened. The

return of King Richard he spoke of as an event altogether beyond

the reach of probability; yet, when he observed, from the

doubtful looks and uncertain answers which he received, that this

was the apprehension by which the minds of his accomplices were

most haunted, he boldly treated that event, should it really take

place, as one which ought not to alter their political

calculations.

“If Richard returns,” said Fitzurse, “he returns to enrich his

needy and impoverished crusaders at the expense of those who did

not follow him to the Holy Land. He returns to call to a fearful

reckoning, those who, during his absence, have done aught that

can be construed offence or encroachment upon either the laws of

the land or the privileges of the crown. He returns to avenge

upon the Orders of the Temple and the Hospital, the preference

which they showed to Philip of France during the wars in the Holy

Land. He returns, in fine, to punish as a rebel every adherent

of his brother Prince John. Are ye afraid of his power?”

continued the artful confident of that Prince, “we acknowledge

him a strong and valiant knight; but these are not the days of

King Arthur, when a champion could encounter an army. If Richard

indeed comes back, it must be alone,---unfollowed---unfriended.

The bones of his gallant army have whitened the sands of

Palestine. The few of his followers who have returned have

straggled hither like this Wilfred of Ivanhoe, beggared and

broken men.---And what talk ye of Richard’s right of birth?” he

proceeded, in answer to those who objected scruples on that head.

“Is Richard’s title of primogeniture more decidedly certain than

that of Duke Robert of Normandy, the Conqueror’s eldest son? And

yet William the Red, and Henry, his second and third brothers,

were successively preferred to him by the voice of the nation,

Robert had every merit which can be pleaded for Richard; he was a

bold knight, a good leader, generous to his friends and to the

church, and, to crown the whole, a crusader and a conqueror of

the Holy Sepulchre; and yet he died a blind and miserable

prisoner in the Castle of Cardiff, because he opposed himself to

the will of the people, who chose that he should not rule over

them. It is our right,” he said, “to choose from the blood royal

the prince who is best qualified to hold the supreme power

---that is,” said he, correcting himself, “him whose election

will best promote the interests of the nobility. In personal

qualifications,” he added, “it was possible that Prince John

might be inferior to his brother Richard; but when it was

considered that the latter returned with the sword of vengeance

in his hand, while the former held out rewards, immunities,

privileges, wealth, and honours, it could not be doubted which

was the king whom in wisdom the nobility were called on to

support.”

These, and many more arguments, some adapted to the peculiar

circumstances of those whom he addressed, had the expected weight

with the nobles of Prince John’s faction. Most of them consented

to attend the proposed meeting at York, for the purpose of making

general arrangements for placing the crown upon the head of

Prince John.

It was late at night, when, worn out and exhausted with his

various exertions, however gratified with the result, Fitzurse,

returning to the Castle of Ashby, met with De Bracy, who had

exchanged his banqueting garments for a short green kirtle, with

hose of the same cloth and colour, a leathern cap or head-piece,

a short sword, a horn slung over his shoulder, a long bow in his

hand, and a bundle of arrows stuck in his belt. Had Fitzurse met

this figure in an outer apartment, he would have passed him

without notice, as one of the yeomen of the guard; but finding

him in the inner hall, he looked at him with more attention, and

recognised the Norman knight in the dress of an English yeoman.

“What mummery is this, De Bracy?” said Fitzurse, somewhat

angrily; “is this a time for Christmas gambols and quaint

maskings, when the fate of our master, Prince John, is on the

very verge of decision? Why hast thou not been, like me, among

these heartless cravens, whom the very name of King Richard

terrifies, as it is said to do the children of the Saracens?”

“I have been attending to mine own business,” answered De Bracy

calmly, “as you, Fitzurse, have been minding yours.”

“I minding mine own business!” echoed Waldemar; “I have been

engaged in that of Prince John, our joint patron.”

“As if thou hadst any other reason for that, Waldemar,” said De

Bracy, “than the promotion of thine own individual interest?

Come, Fitzurse, we know each other---ambition is thy pursuit,

pleasure is mine, and they become our different ages. Of Prince

John thou thinkest as I do; that he is too weak to be a

determined monarch, too tyrannical to be an easy monarch, too

insolent and presumptuous to be a popular monarch, and too fickle

and timid to be long a monarch of any kind. But he is a monarch

by whom Fitzurse and De Bracy hope to rise and thrive; and

therefore you aid him with your policy, and I with the lances of

my Free Companions.”

“A hopeful auxiliary,” said Fitzurse impatiently; “playing the

fool in the very moment of utter necessity.---What on earth dost

thou purpose by this absurd disguise at a moment so urgent?”

“To get me a wife,” answered De Bracy coolly, “after the manner

of the tribe of Benjamin.”

“The tribe of Benjamin?” said Fitzurse; “I comprehend thee not.”

“Wert thou not in presence yester-even,” said De Bracy, “when we

heard the Prior Aymer tell us a tale in reply to the romance

which was sung by the Minstrel?---He told how, long since in

Palestine, a deadly feud arose between the tribe of Benjamin and

the rest of the Israelitish nation; and how they cut to pieces

well-nigh all the chivalry of that tribe; and how they swore by

our blessed Lady, that they would not permit those who remained

to marry in their lineage; and how they became grieved for their

vow, and sent to consult his holiness the Pope how they might be

absolved from it; and how, by the advice of the Holy Father, the

youth of the tribe of Benjamin carried off from a superb

tournament all the ladies who were there present, and thus won

them wives without the consent either of their brides or their

brides’ families.”

“I have heard the story,” said Fitzurse, “though either the Prior

or thou has made some singular alterations in date and

circumstances.”

“I tell thee,” said De Bracy, “that I mean to purvey me a wife

after the fashion of the tribe of Benjamin; which is as much as

to say, that in this same equipment I will fall upon that herd of

Saxon bullocks, who have this night left the castle, and carry

off from them the lovely Rowena.”

“Art thou mad, De Bracy?” said Fitzurse. “Bethink thee that,

though the men be Saxons, they are rich and powerful, and

regarded with the more respect by their countrymen, that wealth

and honour are but the lot of few of Saxon descent.”

“And should belong to none,” said De Bracy; “the work of the

Conquest should be completed.”

“This is no time for it at least,” said Fitzurse “the approaching

crisis renders the favour of the multitude indispensable, and

Prince John cannot refuse justice to any one who injures their

favourites.”

“Let him grant it, if he dare,” said De Bracy; “he will soon see

the difference betwixt the support of such a lusty lot of spears

as mine, and that of a heartless mob of Saxon churls. Yet I mean

no immediate discovery of myself. Seem I not in this garb as

bold a forester as ever blew horn? The blame of the violence

shall rest with the outlaws of the Yorkshire forests. I have

sure spies on the Saxon’s motions---To-night they sleep in the

convent of Saint Wittol, or Withold, or whatever they call that

churl of a Saxon Saint at Burton-on-Trent. Next day’s march

brings them within our reach, and, falcon-ways, we swoop on them

at once. Presently after I will appear in mine own shape, play

the courteous knight, rescue the unfortunate and afflicted fair

one from the hands of the rude ravishers, conduct her to

Front-de-Boeuf’s Castle, or to Normandy, if it should be

necessary, and produce her not again to her kindred until she be

the bride and dame of Maurice de Bracy.”

“A marvellously sage plan,” said Fitzurse, “and, as I think, not

entirely of thine own device.---Come, be frank, De Bracy, who

aided thee in the invention? and who is to assist in the

execution? for, as I think, thine own band lies as far off as

York.”

“Marry, if thou must needs know,” said De Bracy, “it was the

Templar Brian de Bois-Guilbert that shaped out the enterprise,

which the adventure of the men of Benjamin suggested to me. He

is to aid me in the onslaught, and he and his followers will

personate the outlaws, from whom my valorous arm is, after

changing my garb, to rescue the lady.”

“By my halidome,” said Fitzurse, “the plan was worthy of your

united wisdom! and thy prudence, De Bracy, is most especially

manifested in the project of leaving the lady in the hands of thy

worthy confederate. Thou mayst, I think, succeed in taking her

from her Saxon friends, but how thou wilt rescue her afterwards

from the clutches of Bois-Guilbert seems considerably more

doubtful---He is a falcon well accustomed to pounce on a

partridge, and to hold his prey fast.”

“He is a Templar,” said De Bracy, “and cannot therefore rival me

in my plan of wedding this heiress;---and to attempt aught

dishonourable against the intended bride of De Bracy---By Heaven!

were he a whole Chapter of his Order in his single person, he

dared not do me such an injury!”

“Then since nought that I can say,” said Fitzurse, “will put this

folly from thy imagination, (for well I know the obstinacy of thy

disposition,) at least waste as little time as possible---let not

thy folly be lasting as well as untimely.”

“I tell thee,” answered De Bracy, “that it will be the work of a

few hours, and I shall be at York---at the head of my daring and

valorous fellows, as ready to support any bold design as thy

policy can be to form one.---But I hear my comrades assembling,

and the steeds stamping and neighing in the outer court.

---Farewell.---I go, like a true knight, to win the smiles of

beauty.”

“Like a true knight?” repeated Fitzurse, looking after him; “like

a fool, I should say, or like a child, who will leave the most

serious and needful occupation, to chase the down of the thistle

that drives past him.---But it is with such tools that I must

work;---and for whose advantage?---For that of a Prince as unwise

as he is profligate, and as likely to be an ungrateful master as

he has already proved a rebellious son and an unnatural brother.

---But he---he, too, is but one of the tools with which I labour;

and, proud as he is, should he presume to separate his interest

from mine, this is a secret which he shall soon learn.”

The meditations of the statesman were here interrupted by the

voice of the Prince from an interior apartment, calling out,

“Noble Waldemar Fitzurse!”