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

so deadly! My strength thou mayst

indeed overpower for God made women weak, and trusted their

defence to man’s generosity. But I will proclaim thy villainy,

Templar, from one end of Europe to the other. I will owe to the

superstition of thy brethren what their compassion might refuse

me, Each Preceptory---each Chapter of thy Order, shall learn,

that, like a heretic, thou hast sinned with a Jewess. Those who

tremble not at thy crime, will hold thee accursed for having so

far dishonoured the cross thou wearest, as to follow a daughter

of my people.”

“Thou art keen-witted, Jewess,” replied the Templar, well aware

of the truth of what she spoke, and that the rules of his Order

condemned in the most positive manner, and under high penalties,

such intrigues as he now prosecuted, and that, in some instances,

even degradation had followed upon it---“thou art sharp-witted,”

he said; “but loud must be thy voice of complaint, if it is heard

beyond the iron walls of this castle; within these, murmurs,

laments, appeals to justice, and screams for help, die alike

silent away. One thing only can save thee, Rebecca. Submit to

thy fate---embrace our religion, and thou shalt go forth in such

state, that many a Norman lady shall yield as well in pomp as in

beauty to the favourite of the best lance among the defenders of

the Temple.”

“Submit to my fate!” said Rebecca---“and, sacred Heaven! to what

fate?---embrace thy religion! and what religion can it be that

harbours such a villain?---THOU the best lance of the Templars!

---Craven knight!---forsworn priest! I spit at thee, and I defy

thee.---The God of Abraham’s promise hath opened an escape to his

daughter---even from this abyss of infamy!”

As she spoke, she threw open the latticed window which led to the

bartisan, and in an instant after, stood on the very verge of the

parapet, with not the slightest screen between her and the

tremendous depth below. Unprepared for such a desperate effort,

for she had hitherto stood perfectly motionless, Bois-Guilbert

had neither time to intercept nor to stop her. As he offered to

advance, she exclaimed, “Remain where thou art, proud Templar, or

at thy choice advance!---one foot nearer, and I plunge myself

from the precipice; my body shall be crushed out of the very form

of humanity upon the stones of that court-yard, ere it become the

victim of thy brutality!”

As she spoke this, she clasped her hands and extended them

towards heaven, as if imploring mercy on her soul before she made

the final plunge. The Templar hesitated, and a resolution which

had never yielded to pity or distress, gave way to his admiration

of her fortitude. “Come down,” he said, “rash girl!---I swear by

earth, and sea, and sky, I will offer thee no offence.”

“I will not trust thee, Templar,” said Rebecca; thou hast taught

me better how to estimate the virtues of thine Order. The next

Preceptory would grant thee absolution for an oath, the keeping

of which concerned nought but the honour or the dishonour of a

miserable Jewish maiden.”

“You do me injustice,” exclaimed the Templar fervently; “I swear

to you by the name which I bear---by the cross on my bosom---by

the sword on my side---by the ancient crest of my fathers do I

swear, I will do thee no injury whatsoever! If not for thyself,

yet for thy father’s sake forbear! I will be his friend, and in

this castle he will need a powerful one.”

“Alas!” said Rebecca, “I know it but too well---dare I trust

thee?”

“May my arms be reversed, and my name dishonoured,” said Brian de

Bois-Guilbert, “if thou shalt have reason to complain of me!

Many a law, many a commandment have I broken, but my word never.”

“I will then trust thee,” said Rebecca, “thus far;” and she

descended from the verge of the battlement, but remained standing

close by one of the embrasures, or “machicolles”, as they were

then called.---“Here,” she said, “I take my stand. Remain where

thou art, and if thou shalt attempt to diminish by one step the

distance now between us, thou shalt see that the Jewish maiden

will rather trust her soul with God, than her honour to the

Templar!”

While Rebecca spoke thus, her high and firm resolve, which

corresponded so well with the expressive beauty of her

countenance, gave to her looks, air, and manner, a dignity that

seemed more than mortal. Her glance quailed not, her cheek

blanched not, for the fear of a fate so instant and so horrible;

on the contrary, the thought that she had her fate at her

command, and could escape at will from infamy to death, gave a

yet deeper colour of carnation to her complexion, and a yet more

brilliant fire to her eye. Bois-Guilbert, proud himself and

high-spirited, thought he had never beheld beauty so animated and

so commanding.

“Let there be peace between us, Rebecca,” he said.

“Peace, if thou wilt,” answered Rebecca---“Peace---but with this

space between.”

“Thou needst no longer fear me,” said Bois-Guilbert.

“I fear thee not,” replied she; “thanks to him that reared this

dizzy tower so high, that nought could fall from it and live

—thanks to him, and to the God of Israel!---I fear thee not.”

“Thou dost me injustice,” said the Templar; “by earth, sea, and

sky, thou dost me injustice! I am not naturally that which you

have seen me, hard, selfish, and relentless. It was woman that

taught me cruelty, and on woman therefore I have exercised it;

but not upon such as thou. Hear me, Rebecca---Never did knight

take lance in his hand with a heart more devoted to the lady of

his love than Brian de Bois-Guilbert. She, the daughter of a

petty baron, who boasted for all his domains but a ruinous tower,

and an unproductive vineyard, and some few leagues of the barren

Landes of Bourdeaux, her name was known wherever deeds of arms

were done, known wider than that of many a lady’s that had a

county for a dowery.---Yes,” he continued, pacing up and down the

little platform, with an animation in which he seemed to lose all

consciousness of Rebecca’s presence---“Yes, my deeds, my danger,

my blood, made the name of Adelaide de Montemare known from the

court of Castile to that of Byzantium. And how was I requited?

---When I returned with my dear-bought honours, purchased by toil

and blood, I found her wedded to a Gascon squire, whose name was

never heard beyond the limits of his own paltry domain! Truly

did I love her, and bitterly did I revenge me of her broken

faith! But my vengeance has recoiled on myself. Since that day

I have separated myself from life and its ties---My manhood must

know no domestic home---must be soothed by no affectionate wife

---My age must know no kindly hearth---My grave must be solitary,

and no offspring must outlive me, to bear the ancient name of

Bois-Guilbert. At the feet of my Superior I have laid down the

right of self-action---the privilege of independence. The

Templar, a serf in all but the name, can possess neither lands

nor goods, and lives, moves, and breathes, but at the will and

pleasure of another.”

“Alas!” said Rebecca, “what advantages could compensate for such

an absolute sacrifice?”

“The power of vengeance, Rebecca,” replied the Templar, “and the

prospects of ambition.”

“An evil recompense,” said Rebecca, “for the surrender of the

rights which are dearest to humanity.”

“Say not so, maiden,” answered the Templar; “revenge is a feast

for the gods! And if they have reserved it, as priests tell us,

to themselves, it is because they hold it an enjoyment too

precious for the possession of mere mortals.---And ambition? it

is a temptation which could disturb even the bliss of heaven

itself.”---He paused a moment, and then added, “Rebecca! she who

could prefer death to dishonour, must have a proud and a powerful

soul. Mine thou must be!---Nay, start not,” he added, “it must

be with thine own consent, and on thine own terms. Thou must

consent to share with me hopes more extended than can be viewed

from the throne of a monarch!---Hear me ere you answer and judge

ere you refuse.---The Templar loses, as thou hast said, his

social rights, his power of free agency, but he becomes a member

and a limb of a mighty body, before which thrones already

tremble,---even as the single drop of rain which mixes with the

sea becomes an individual part of that resistless ocean, which

undermines rocks and ingulfs royal armadas. Such a swelling

flood is that powerful league. Of this mighty Order I am no mean

member, but already one of the Chief Commanders, and may well

aspire one day to hold the batoon of Grand Master. The poor

soldiers of the Temple will not alone place their foot upon the

necks of kings---a hemp-sandall’d monk can do that. Our mailed

step shall ascend their throne---our gauntlet shall wrench the

sceptre from their gripe. Not the reign of your vainly-expected

Messiah offers such power to your dispersed tribes as my ambition

may aim at. I have sought but a kindred spirit to share it, and

I have found such in thee.”

“Sayest thou this to one of my people?” answered Rebecca.

“Bethink thee---”

“Answer me not,” said the Templar, “by urging the difference of

our creeds; within our secret conclaves we hold these nursery

tales in derision. Think not we long remained blind to the

idiotical folly of our founders, who forswore every delight of

life for the pleasure of dying martyrs by hunger, by thirst, and

by pestilence, and by the swords of savages, while they vainly

strove to defend a barren desert, valuable only in the eyes of

superstition. Our Order soon adopted bolder and wider views, and

found out a better indemnification for our sacrifices. Our

immense possessions in every kingdom of Europe, our high military

fame, which brings within our circle the flower of chivalry from

every Christian clime---these are dedicated to ends of which our

pious founders little dreamed, and which are equally concealed

from such weak spirits as embrace our Order on the ancient

principles, and whose superstition makes them our passive tools.

But I will not further withdraw the veil of our mysteries. That

bugle-sound announces something which may require my presence.

Think on what I have said.---Farewell!---I do not say forgive me

the violence I have threatened, for it was necessary to the

display of thy character. Gold can be only known by the

application of the touchstone. I will soon return, and hold

further conference with thee.”

He re-entered the turret-chamber, and descended the stair,

leaving Rebecca scarcely more terrified at the prospect of the

death to which she had been so lately exposed, than at the

furious ambition of the bold bad man in whose power she found

herself so unhappily placed. When she entered the

turret-chamber, her first duty was to return thanks to the God of

Jacob for the protection which he had afforded her, and to

implore its continuance for her and for her father. Another name

glided into her petition---it was that of the wounded Christian,

whom fate had placed in the hands of bloodthirsty men, his avowed

enemies. Her heart indeed checked her, as if, even in communing

with the Deity in prayer, she mingled in her devotions the

recollection of one with whose fate hers could have no alliance

---a Nazarene, and an enemy to her faith. But the petition was

already breathed, nor could all the narrow prejudices of her sect

induce Rebecca to wish it recalled.

CHAPTER XXV

A damn’d cramp piece of penmanship as ever I saw in my life!

She Stoops to Conquer

When the Templar reached