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

which sat a young woman, richly

dressed in the Jewish fashion, while an old man, whose yellow cap

proclaimed him to belong to the same nation, walked up and down

with gestures expressive of the deepest despair, and wrung his

hands, as if affected by some strange disaster.

To the enquiries of Athelstane and Cedric, the old Jew could for

some time only answer by invoking the protection of all the

patriarchs of the Old Testament successively against the sons of

Ishmael, who were coming to smite them, hip and thigh, with the

edge of the sword. When he began to come to himself out of this

agony of terror, Isaac of York (for it was our old friend) was at

length able to explain, that he had hired a body-guard of six men

at Ashby, together with mules for carrying the litter of a sick

friend. This party had undertaken to escort him as far as

Doncaster. They had come thus far in safety; but having received

information from a wood-cutter that there was a strong band of

outlaws lying in wait in the woods before them, Isaac’s

mercenaries had not only taken flight, but had carried off with

them the horses which bore the litter and left the Jew and his

daughter without the means either of defence or of retreat, to be

plundered, and probably murdered, by the banditti, who they

expected every moment would bring down upon them. “Would it but

please your valours,” added Isaac, in a tone of deep humiliation,

“to permit the poor Jews to travel under your safeguard, I swear

by the tables of our law, that never has favour been conferred

upon a child of Israel since the days of our captivity, which

shall be more gratefully acknowledged.”

“Dog of a Jew!” said Athelstane, whose memory was of that petty

kind which stores up trifles of all kinds, but particularly

trifling offences, “dost not remember how thou didst beard us in

the gallery at the tilt-yard? Fight or flee, or compound with

the outlaws as thou dost list, ask neither aid nor company from

us; and if they rob only such as thee, who rob all the world, I,

for mine own share, shall hold them right honest folk.”

Cedric did not assent to the severe proposal of his companion.

“We shall do better,” said he, “to leave them two of our

attendants and two horses to convey them back to the next

village. It will diminish our strength but little; and with your

good sword, noble Athelstane, and the aid of those who remain, it

will be light work for us to face twenty of those runagates.”

Rowena, somewhat alarmed by the mention of outlaws in force, and

so near them, strongly seconded the proposal of her guardian.

But Rebecca suddenly quitting her dejected posture, and making

her way through the attendants to the palfrey of the Saxon lady,

knelt down, and, after the Oriental fashion in addressing

superiors, kissed the hem of Rowena’s garment. Then rising, and

throwing back her veil, she implored her in the great name of the

God whom they both worshipped, and by that revelation of the Law

upon Mount Sinai, in which they both believed, that she would

have compassion upon them, and suffer them to go forward under

their safeguard. “It is not for myself that I pray this favour,”

said Rebecca; “nor is it even for that poor old man. I know

that to wrong and to spoil our nation is a light fault, if not a

merit, with the Christians; and what is it to us whether it be

done in the city, in the desert, or in the field? But it is in

the name of one dear to many, and dear even to you, that I

beseech you to let this sick person be transported with care and

tenderness under your protection. For, if evil chance him, the

last moment of your life would be embittered with regret for

denying that which I ask of you.”

The noble and solemn air with which Rebecca made this appeal,

gave it double weight with the fair Saxon.

“The man is old and feeble,” she said to her guardian, “the

maiden young and beautiful, their friend sick and in peril of his

life---Jews though they be, we cannot as Christians leave them in

this extremity. Let them unload two of the sumpter-mules, and

put the baggage behind two of the serfs. The mules may transport

the litter, and we have led horses for the old man and his

daughter.”

Cedric readily assented to what she proposed, and Athelstane only

added the condition, “that they should travel in the rear of the

whole party, where Wamba,” he said, “might attend them with his

shield of boar’s brawn.”

“I have left my shield in the tilt-yard,” answered the Jester,

“as has been the fate of many a better knight than myself.”

Athelstane coloured deeply, for such had been his own fate on the

last day of the tournament; while Rowena, who was pleased in the

same proportion, as if to make amends for the brutal jest of her

unfeeling suitor, requested Rebecca to ride by her side.

“It were not fit I should do so,” answered Rebecca, with proud

humility, “where my society might be held a disgrace to my

protectress.”

By this time the change of baggage was hastily achieved; for the

single word “outlaws” rendered every one sufficiently alert, and

the approach of twilight made the sound yet more impressive.

Amid the bustle, Gurth was taken from horseback, in the course of

which removal he prevailed upon the Jester to slack the cord with

which his arms were bound. It was so negligently refastened,

perhaps intentionally, on the part of Wamba, that Gurth found no

difficulty in freeing his arms altogether from bondage, and then,

gliding into the thicket, he made his escape from the party.

The bustle had been considerable, and it was some time before

Gurth was missed; for, as he was to be placed for the rest of the

journey behind a servant, every one supposed that some other of

his companions had him under his custody, and when it began to be

whispered among them that Gurth had actually disappeared, they

were under such immediate expectation of an attack from the

outlaws, that it was not held convenient to pay much attention

to the circumstance.

The path upon which the party travelled was now so narrow, as not

to admit, with any sort of convenience, above two riders abreast,

and began to descend into a dingle, traversed by a brook whose

banks were broken, swampy, and overgrown with dwarf willows.

Cedric and Athelstane, who were at the head of their retinue, saw

the risk of being attacked at this pass; but neither of them

having had much practice in war, no better mode of preventing the

danger occurred to them than that they should hasten through the

defile as fast as possible. Advancing, therefore, without much

order, they had just crossed the brook with a part of their

followers, when they were assailed in front, flank, and rear at

once, with an impetuosity to which, in their confused and

ill-prepared condition, it was impossible to offer effectual

resistance. The shout of “A white dragon!---a white dragon!

---Saint George for merry England!” war-cries adopted by the

assailants, as belonging to their assumed character of Saxon

outlaws, was heard on every side, and on every side enemies

appeared with a rapidity of advance and attack which seemed to

multiply their numbers.

Both the Saxon chiefs were made prisoners at the same moment, and

each under circumstances expressive of his character. Cedric,

the instant that an enemy appeared, launched at him his remaining

javelin, which, taking better effect than that which he had

hurled at Fangs, nailed the man against an oak-tree that happened

to be close behind him. Thus far successful, Cedric spurred his

horse against a second, drawing his sword at the same time, and

striking with such inconsiderate fury, that his weapon

encountered a thick branch which hung over him, and he was

disarmed by the violence of his own blow. He was instantly made

prisoner, and pulled from his horse by two or three of the

banditti who crowded around him. Athelstane shared his

captivity, his bridle having been seized, and he himself forcibly

dismounted, long before he could draw his weapon, or assume any

posture of effectual defence.

The attendants, embarrassed with baggage, surprised and terrified

at the fate of their masters, fell an easy prey to the

assailants; while the Lady Rowena, in the centre of the

cavalcade, and the Jew and his daughter in the rear, experienced

the same misfortune.

Of all the train none escaped except Wamba, who showed upon the

occasion much more courage than those who pretended to greater

sense. He possessed himself of a sword belonging to one of the

domestics, who was just drawing it with a tardy and irresolute

hand, laid it about him like a lion, drove back several who

approached him, and made a brave though ineffectual attempt to

succour his master. Finding himself overpowered, the Jester at

length threw himself from his horse, plunged into the thicket,

and, favoured by the general confusion, escaped from the scene of

action. Yet the valiant Jester, as soon as he found himself

safe, hesitated more than once whether he should not turn back

and share the captivity of a master to whom he was sincerely

attached.

“I have heard men talk of the blessings of freedom,” he said to

himself, “but I wish any wise man would teach me what use to make

of it now that I have it.”

As he pronounced these words aloud, a voice very near him called

out in a low and cautious tone, “Wamba!” and, at the same time, a

dog, which he recognised to be Fangs, jumped up and fawned upon

him. “Gurth!” answered Wamba, with the same caution, and the

swineherd immediately stood before him.

“What is the matter?” said he eagerly; “what mean these cries,

and that clashing of swords?”

“Only a trick of the times,” said Wamba; “they are all

prisoners.”

“Who are prisoners?” exclaimed Gurth, impatiently.

“My lord, and my lady, and Athelstane, and Hundibert, and

Oswald.”

“In the name of God!” said Gurth, “how came they prisoners?

---and to whom?”

“Our master was too ready to fight,” said the Jester; “and

Athelstane was not ready enough, and no other person was ready at

all. And they are prisoners to green cassocks, and black visors.

And they lie all tumbled about on the green, like the crab-apples

that you shake down to your swine. And I would laugh at it,”

said the honest Jester, “if I could for weeping.” And he shed

tears of unfeigned sorrow.

Gurth’s countenance kindled---“Wamba,” he said, “thou hast a

weapon, and thy heart was ever stronger than thy brain,---we are

only two---but a sudden attack from men of resolution will do

much---follow me!”

“Whither?---and for what purpose?” said the Jester.

“To rescue Cedric.”

“But you have renounced his service but now,” said Wamba.

“That,” said Gurth, “was but while he was fortunate---follow me!”

As the Jester was about to obey, a third person suddenly made his

appearance, and commanded them both to halt. From his dress and

arms, Wamba would have conjectured him to be one of those outlaws

who had just assailed his master; but, besides that he wore no

mask, the glittering baldric across his shoulder, with the rich

bugle-horn which it supported, as well as the calm and commanding

expression of his voice and manner, made him, notwithstanding

the twilight, recognise Locksley the yeoman, who had been

victorious, under such disadvantageous circumstances, in the

contest for the prize of archery.

“What