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

I must

not slip collar” (and he touched that which he wore) “without his

permission.”

“Oh, a Norman saw will soon cut a Saxon collar.” said De Bracy.

“Ay, noble sir,” said Wamba, “and thence goes the proverb---

‘Norman saw on English oak,

On English neck a Norman yoke;

Norman spoon in English dish,

And England ruled as Normans wish;

Blithe world to England never will be more,

Till England’s rid of all the four.’”

“Thou dost well, De Bracy,” said Front-de-Boeuf, “to stand there

listening to a fool’s jargon, when destruction is gaping for us!

Seest thou not we are overreached, and that our proposed mode of

communicating with our friends without has been disconcerted by

this same motley gentleman thou art so fond to brother? What

views have we to expect but instant storm?”

“To the battlements then,” said De Bracy; “when didst thou ever

see me the graver for the thoughts of battle? Call the Templar

yonder, and let him fight but half so well for his life as he has

done for his Order---Make thou to the walls thyself with thy huge

body---Let me do my poor endeavour in my own way, and I tell thee

the Saxon outlaws may as well attempt to scale the clouds, as

the castle of Torquilstone; or, if you will treat with the

banditti, why not employ the mediation of this worthy franklin,

who seems in such deep contemplation of the wine-flagon?---Here,

Saxon,” he continued, addressing Athelstane, and handing the cup

to him, “rinse thy throat with that noble liquor, and rouse up

thy soul to say what thou wilt do for thy liberty.”

“What a man of mould may,” answered Athelstane, “providing it be

what a man of manhood ought.---Dismiss me free, with my

companions, and I will pay a ransom of a thousand marks.”

“And wilt moreover assure us the retreat of that scum of mankind

who are swarming around the castle, contrary to God’s peace and

the king’s?” said Front-de-Boeuf.

“In so far as I can,” answered Athelstane, “I will withdraw them;

and I fear not but that my father Cedric will do his best to

assist me.”

“We are agreed then,” said Front-de-Boeuf---“thou and they are to

be set at freedom, and peace is to be on both sides, for payment

of a thousand marks. It is a trifling ransom, Saxon, and thou

wilt owe gratitude to the moderation which accepts of it in

exchange of your persons. But mark, this extends not to the Jew

Isaac.”

“Nor to the Jew Isaac’s daughter,” said the Templar, who had now

joined them.

“Neither,” said Front-de-Boeuf, “belong to this Saxon’s company.”

“I were unworthy to be called Christian, if they did,” replied

Athelstane: “deal with the unbelievers as ye list.”

“Neither does the ransom include the Lady Rowena,” said De Bracy.

“It shall never be said I was scared out of a fair prize without

striking a blow for it.”

“Neither,” said Front-de-Boeuf, “does our treaty refer to this

wretched Jester, whom I retain, that I may make him an example to

every knave who turns jest into earnest.”

“The Lady Rowena,” answered Athelstane, with the most steady

countenance, “is my affianced bride. I will be drawn by wild

horses before I consent to part with her. The slave Wamba has

this day saved the life of my father Cedric---I will lose mine

ere a hair of his head be injured.”

“Thy affianced bride?---The Lady Rowena the affianced bride of a

vassal like thee?” said De Bracy; “Saxon, thou dreamest that the

days of thy seven kingdoms are returned again. I tell thee, the

Princes of the House of Anjou confer not their wards on men of

such lineage as thine.”

“My lineage, proud Norman,” replied Athelstane, “is drawn from a

source more pure and ancient than that of a beggarly Frenchman,

whose living is won by selling the blood of the thieves whom he

assembles under his paltry standard. Kings were my ancestors,

strong in war and wise in council, who every day feasted in their

hall more hundreds than thou canst number individual followers;

whose names have been sung by minstrels, and their laws recorded

by Wittenagemotes; whose bones were interred amid the prayers of

saints, and over whose tombs minsters have been builded.”

“Thou hast it, De Bracy,” said Front-de-Boeuf, well pleased with

the rebuff which his companion had received; “the Saxon hath hit

thee fairly.”

“As fairly as a captive can strike,” said De Bracy, with apparent

carelessness; “for he whose hands are tied should have his tongue

at freedom.---But thy glibness of reply, comrade,” rejoined he,

speaking to Athelstane, “will not win the freedom of the Lady

Rowena.”

To this Athelstane, who had already made a longer speech than was

his custom to do on any topic, however interesting, returned no

answer. The conversation was interrupted by the arrival of a

menial, who announced that a monk demanded admittance at the

postern gate.

“In the name of Saint Bennet, the prince of these bull-beggars,”

said Front-de-Boeuf, “have we a real monk this time, or another

impostor? Search him, slaves---for an ye suffer a second

impostor to be palmed upon you, I will have your eyes torn out,

and hot coals put into the sockets.”

“Let me endure the extremity of your anger, my lord,” said Giles,

“if this be not a real shaveling. Your squire Jocelyn knows him

well, and will vouch him to be brother Ambrose, a monk in

attendance upon the Prior of Jorvaulx.”

“Admit him,” said Front-de-Boeuf; “most likely he brings us news

from his jovial master. Surely the devil keeps holiday, and the

priests are relieved from duty, that they are strolling thus

wildly through the country. Remove these prisoners; and, Saxon,

think on what thou hast heard.”

“I claim,” said Athelstane, “an honourable imprisonment, with due

care of my board and of my couch, as becomes my rank, and as is

due to one who is in treaty for ransom. Moreover, I hold him

that deems himself the best of you, bound to answer to me with

his body for this aggression on my freedom. This defiance hath

already been sent to thee by thy sewer; thou underliest it, and

art bound to answer me---There lies my glove.”

“I answer not the challenge of my prisoner,” said Front-de-Boeuf;

“nor shalt thou, Maurice de Bracy.---Giles,” he continued, “hang

the franklin’s glove upon the tine of yonder branched antlers:

there shall it remain until he is a free man. Should he then

presume to demand it, or to affirm he was unlawfully made my

prisoner, by the belt of Saint Christopher, he will speak to one

who hath never refused to meet a foe on foot or on horseback,

alone or with his vassals at his back!”

The Saxon prisoners were accordingly removed, just as they

introduced the monk Ambrose, who appeared to be in great

perturbation.

“This is the real ‘Deus vobiscum’,” said Wamba, as he passed the

reverend brother; “the others were but counterfeits.”

“Holy Mother,” said the monk, as he addressed the assembled

knights, “I am at last safe and in Christian keeping!”

“Safe thou art,” replied De Bracy; “and for Christianity, here is

the stout Baron Reginald Front-de-Boeuf, whose utter abomination

is a Jew; and the good Knight Templar, Brian de Bois-Guilbert,

whose trade is to slay Saracens---If these are not good marks of

Christianity, I know no other which they bear about them.”

“Ye are friends and allies of our reverend father in God, Aymer,

Prior of Jorvaulx,” said the monk, without noticing the tone of

De Bracy’s reply; “ye owe him aid both by knightly faith and holy

charity; for what saith the blessed Saint Augustin, in his

treatise ‘De Civitate Dei’------”

“What saith the devil!” interrupted Front-de-Boeuf; “or rather

what dost thou say, Sir Priest? We have little time to hear

texts from the holy fathers.”

“‘Sancta Maria!’” ejaculated Father Ambrose, “how prompt to ire

are these unhallowed laymen!---But be it known to you, brave

knights, that certain murderous caitiffs, casting behind them

fear of God, and reverence of his church, and not regarding the

bull of the holy see, ‘Si quis, suadende Diabolo’------”

“Brother priest,” said the Templar, “all this we know or guess at

---tell us plainly, is thy master, the Prior, made prisoner, and

to whom?”

“Surely,” said Ambrose, “he is in the hands of the men of Belial,

infesters of these woods, and contemners of the holy text, ‘Touch

not mine anointed, and do my prophets naught of evil.’”

“Here is a new argument for our swords, sirs,” said

Front-de-Boeuf, turning to his companions; “and so, instead of

reaching us any assistance, the Prior of Jorvaulx requests aid at

our hands? a man is well helped of these lazy churchmen when he

hath most to do!---But speak out, priest, and say at once, what

doth thy master expect from us?”

“So please you,” said Ambrose, “violent hands having been imposed

on my reverend superior, contrary to the holy ordinance which I

did already quote, and the men of Belial having rifled his mails

and budgets, and stripped him of two hundred marks of pure

refined gold, they do yet demand of him a large sum beside, ere

they will suffer him to depart from their uncircumcised hands.

Wherefore the reverend father in God prays you, as his dear

friends, to rescue him, either by paying down the ransom at which

they hold him, or by force of arms, at your best discretion.”

“The foul fiend quell the Prior!” said Front-de-Boeuf; “his

morning’s drought has been a deep one. When did thy master hear

of a Norman baron unbuckling his purse to relieve a churchman,

whose bags are ten times as weighty as ours?---And how can we do

aught by valour to free him, that are cooped up here by ten times

our number, and expect an assault every moment?”

“And that was what I was about to tell you,” said the monk, “had

your hastiness allowed me time. But, God help me, I am old, and

these foul onslaughts distract an aged man’s brain.

Nevertheless, it is of verity that they assemble a camp, and

raise a bank against the walls of this castle.”

“To the battlements!” cried De Bracy, “and let us mark what these

knaves do without;” and so saying, he opened a latticed window

which led to a sort of bartisan or projecting balcony, and

immediately called from thence to those in the apartment

---“Saint Dennis, but the old monk hath brought true tidings!

---They bring forward mantelets and pavisses,*

Mantelets were temporary and movable defences formed of planks, under cover of which the assailants advanced to the attack of fortified places of old. Pavisses were a species of large shields covering the whole person, employed on the same occasions.

and the archers muster on the skirts of the wood like a dark

cloud before a hailstorm.”

Reginald Front-de-Boeuf also looked out upon the field, and

immediately snatched his bugle; and, after winding a long and

loud blast, commanded his men to their posts on the walls.

“De Bracy, look to the eastern side, where the walls are lowest

---Noble Bois-Guilbert, thy trade hath well taught thee how to

attack and defend, look thou to the western side---I myself will

take post at the barbican. Yet, do not confine your exertions to

any one spot, noble friends!---we must this day be everywhere,

and multiply ourselves, were it possible, so as to carry by our

presence succour and relief wherever the attack is hottest. Our

numbers are few, but activity and courage may supply that defect,

since we have only to do with rascal clowns.”

“But,