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

is the meaning of all this,” said he, “or who is it that

rifle, and ransom, and make prisoners, in these forests?”

“You may look at their cassocks close by,” said Wamba, “and see

whether they be thy children’s coats or no---for they are as like

thine own, as one green pea-cod is to another.”

“I will learn that presently,” answered Locksley; “and I charge

ye, on peril of your lives, not to stir from the place where ye

stand, until I have returned. Obey me, and it shall be the

better for you and your masters.---Yet stay, I must render

myself as like these men as possible.”

So saying he unbuckled his baldric with the bugle, took a

feather from his cap, and gave them to Wamba; then drew a vizard

from his pouch, and, repeating his charges to them to stand fast,

went to execute his purposes of reconnoitring.

“Shall we stand fast, Gurth?” said Wamba; “or shall we e’en give

him leg-bail? In my foolish mind, he had all the equipage of a

thief too much in readiness, to be himself a true man.”

“Let him be the devil,” said Gurth, “an he will. We can be no

worse of waiting his return. If he belong to that party, he must

already have given them the alarm, and it will avail nothing

either to fight or fly. Besides, I have late experience, that

errant thieves are not the worst men in the world to have to deal

with.”

The yeoman returned in the course of a few minutes.

“Friend Gurth,” he said, “I have mingled among yon men, and have

learnt to whom they belong, and whither they are bound. There

is, I think, no chance that they will proceed to any actual

violence against their prisoners. For three men to attempt them

at this moment, were little else than madness; for they are good

men of war, and have, as such, placed sentinels to give the alarm

when any one approaches. But I trust soon to gather such a

force, as may act in defiance of all their precautions; you are

both servants, and, as I think, faithful servants, of Cedric the

Saxon, the friend of the rights of Englishmen. He shall not want

English hands to help him in this extremity. Come then with me,

until I gather more aid.”

So saying, he walked through the wood at a great pace, followed

by the jester and the swineherd. It was not consistent with

Wamba’s humour to travel long in silence.

“I think,” said he, looking at the baldric and bugle which he

still carried, “that I saw the arrow shot which won this gay

prize, and that not so long since as Christmas.”

“And I,” said Gurth, “could take it on my halidome, that I have

heard the voice of the good yeoman who won it, by night as well

as by day, and that the moon is not three days older since I

did so.”

“Mine honest friends,” replied the yeoman, “who, or what I am, is

little to the present purpose; should I free your master, you

will have reason to think me the best friend you have ever had

in your lives. And whether I am known by one name or another

---or whether I can draw a bow as well or better than a

cow-keeper, or whether it is my pleasure to walk in sunshine or

by moonlight, are matters, which, as they do not concern you, so

neither need ye busy yourselves respecting them.”

“Our heads are in the lion’s mouth,” said Wamba, in a whisper to

Gurth, “get them out how we can.”

“Hush---be silent,” said Gurth. “Offend him not by thy folly,

and I trust sincerely that all will go well.”

CHAPTER XX

When autumn nights were long and drear,

And forest walks were dark and dim,

How sweetly on the pilgrim’s ear

Was wont to steal the hermit’s hymn

Devotion borrows Music’s tone,

And Music took Devotion’s wing;

And, like the bird that hails the sun,

They soar to heaven, and soaring sing.

The Hermit of St Clement’s Well

It was after three hours’ good walking that the servants of

Cedric, with their mysterious guide, arrived at a small opening

in the forest, in the centre of which grew an oak-tree of

enormous magnitude, throwing its twisted branches in every

direction. Beneath this tree four or five yeomen lay stretched

on the ground, while another, as sentinel, walked to and fro in

the moonlight shade.

Upon hearing the sound of feet approaching, the watch instantly

gave the alarm, and the sleepers as suddenly started up and bent

their bows. Six arrows placed on the string were pointed

towards the quarter from which the travellers approached, when

their guide, being recognised, was welcomed with every token of

respect and attachment, and all signs and fears of a rough

reception at once subsided.

“Where is the Miller?” was his first question.

“On the road towards Rotherham.”

“With how many?” demanded the leader, for such he seemed to be.

“With six men, and good hope of booty, if it please St Nicholas.”

“Devoutly spoken,” said Locksley; “and where is Allan-a-Dale?”

“Walked up towards the Watling-street, to watch for the Prior of

Jorvaulx.”

“That is well thought on also,” replied the Captain;---“and where

is the Friar?”

“In his cell.”

“Thither will I go,” said Locksley. “Disperse and seek your

companions. Collect what force you can, for there’s game afoot

that must be hunted hard, and will turn to bay. Meet me here by

daybreak.---And stay,” he added, “I have forgotten what is most

necessary of the whole---Two of you take the road quickly towards

Torquilstone, the Castle of Front-de-Boeuf. A set of gallants,

who have been masquerading in such guise as our own, are carrying

a band of prisoners thither---Watch them closely, for even if

they reach the castle before we collect our force, our honour is

concerned to punish them, and we will find means to do so. Keep

a close watch on them therefore; and dispatch one of your

comrades, the lightest of foot, to bring the news of the yeomen

thereabout.”

They promised implicit obedience, and departed with alacrity on

their different errands. In the meanwhile, their leader and his

two companions, who now looked upon him with great respect, as

well as some fear, pursued their way to the Chapel of

Copmanhurst.

When they had reached the little moonlight glade, having in front

the reverend, though ruinous chapel, and the rude hermitage, so

well suited to ascetic devotion, Wamba whispered to Gurth, “If

this be the habitation of a thief, it makes good the old proverb,

The nearer the church the farther from God.---And by my

coxcomb,” he added, “I think it be even so---Hearken but to the

black sanctus which they are singing in the hermitage!”

In fact the anchorite and his guest were performing, at the full

extent of their very powerful lungs, an old drinking song, of

which this was the burden:---

“Come, trowl the brown bowl to me,

Bully boy, bully boy,

Come, trowl the brown bowl to me:

Ho! jolly Jenkin, I spy a knave in drinking,

Come, trowl the brown bowl to me.”

“Now, that is not ill sung,” said Wamba, who had thrown in a few

of his own flourishes to help out the chorus. “But who, in the

saint’s name, ever expected to have heard such a jolly chant come

from out a hermit’s cell at midnight!”

“Marry, that should I,” said Gurth, “for the jolly Clerk of

Copmanhurst is a known man, and kills half the deer that are

stolen in this walk. Men say that the keeper has complained to

his official, and that he will be stripped of his cowl and cope

altogether, if he keeps not better order.”

While they were thus speaking, Locksley’s loud and repeated

knocks had at length disturbed the anchorite and his guest.

“By my beads,” said the hermit, stopping short in a grand

flourish, “here come more benighted guests. I would not for my

cowl that they found us in this goodly exercise. All men have

their enemies, good Sir Sluggard; and there be those malignant

enough to construe the hospitable refreshment which I have been

offering to you, a weary traveller, for the matter of three short

hours, into sheer drunkenness and debauchery, vices alike alien

to my profession and my disposition.”

“Base calumniators!” replied the knight; “I would I had the

chastising of them. Nevertheless, Holy Clerk, it is true that

all have their enemies; and there be those in this very land whom

I would rather speak to through the bars of my helmet than

barefaced.”

“Get thine iron pot on thy head then, friend Sluggard, as quickly

as thy nature will permit,” said the hermit, “while I remove

these pewter flagons, whose late contents run strangely in mine

own pate; and to drown the clatter---for, in faith, I feel

somewhat unsteady---strike into the tune which thou hearest me

sing; it is no matter for the words---I scarce know them myself.”

So saying, he struck up a thundering “De profundis clamavi”,

under cover of which he removed the apparatus of their banquet:

while the knight, laughing heartily, and arming himself all the

while, assisted his host with his voice from time to time as his

mirth permitted.

“What devil’s matins are you after at this hour?” said a voice

from without.

“Heaven forgive you, Sir Traveller!” said the hermit, whose own

noise, and perhaps his nocturnal potations, prevented from

recognising accents which were tolerably familiar to him---“Wend

on your way, in the name of God and Saint Dunstan, and disturb

not the devotions of me and my holy brother.”

“Mad priest,” answered the voice from without, “open to

Locksley!”

“All’s safe---all’s right,” said the hermit to his companion.

“But who is he?” said the Black Knight; “it imports me much to

know.”

“Who is he?” answered the hermit; “I tell thee he is a friend.”

“But what friend?” answered the knight; “for he may be friend to

thee and none of mine?”

“What friend?” replied the hermit; “that, now, is one of the

questions that is more easily asked than answered. What friend?

---why, he is, now that I bethink me a little, the very same

honest keeper I told thee of a while since.”

“Ay, as honest a keeper as thou art a pious hermit,” replied the

knight, “I doubt it not. But undo the door to him before he beat

it from its hinges.”

The dogs, in the meantime, which had made a dreadful baying at

the commencement of the disturbance, seemed now to recognise the

voice of him who stood without; for, totally changing their

manner, they scratched and whined at the door, as if interceding

for his admission. The hermit speedily unbolted his portal, and

admitted Locksley, with his two companions.

“Why, hermit,” was the yeoman’s first question as soon as he

beheld the knight, “what boon companion hast thou here?”

“A brother of our order,” replied the friar, shaking his head;

“we have been at our orisons all night.”

“He is a monk of the church militant, I think,” answered

Locksley; “and there be more of them abroad. I tell thee, friar,

thou must lay down the rosary and take up the quarter-staff; we

shall need every one of our merry men, whether clerk or layman.

---But,” he added, taking him a step aside, “art thou mad? to

give admittance to a knight thou dost not know? Hast thou forgot

our articles?”

“Not know him!” replied the friar, boldly, “I know him as well as

the beggar knows his dish.”

“And what is his name, then?”