Ivanhoe, Walter Scott [the lemonade war series txt] 📗
- Author: Walter Scott
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upon the horn thus, ‘Wa-sa-hoa!’ and it may well chance ye shall
find helpers and rescue.”
He then gave breath to the bugle, and winded once and again the
call which be described, until the knight had caught the notes.
“Gramercy for the gift, bold yeoman,” said the Knight; “and
better help than thine and thy rangers would I never seek, were
it at my utmost need.” And then in his turn he winded the call
till all the greenwood rang.
“Well blown and clearly,” said the yeoman; “beshrew me an thou
knowest not as much of woodcraft as of war!---thou hast been a
striker of deer in thy day, I warrant.---Comrades, mark these
three mots---it is the call of the Knight of the Fetterlock; and
he who hears it, and hastens not to serve him at his need, I will
have him scourged out of our band with his own bowstring.”
“Long live our leader!” shouted the yeomen, “and long live the
Black Knight of the Fetterlock!---May he soon use our service, to
prove how readily it will be paid.”
Locksley now proceeded to the distribution of the spoil, which he
performed with the most laudable impartiality. A tenth part of
the whole was set apart for the church, and for pious uses; a
portion was next allotted to a sort of public treasury; a part
was assigned to the widows and children of those who had fallen,
or to be expended in masses for the souls of such as had left no
surviving family. The rest was divided amongst the outlaws,
according to their rank and merit, and the judgment of the Chief,
on all such doubtful questions as occurred, was delivered with
great shrewdness, and received with absolute submission. The
Black Knight was not a little surprised to find that men, in a
state so lawless, were nevertheless among themselves so regularly
and equitably governed, and all that he observed added to his
opinion of the justice and judgment of their leader.
When each had taken his own proportion of the booty, and while
the treasurer, accompanied by four tall yeomen, was transporting
that belonging to the state to some place of concealment or of
security, the portion devoted to the church still remained
unappropriated.
“I would,” said the leader, “we could hear tidings of our joyous
chaplain---he was never wont to be absent when meat was to be
blessed, or spoil to be parted; and it is his duty to take care
of these the tithes of our successful enterprise. It may be the
office has helped to cover some of his canonical irregularities.
Also, I have a holy brother of his a prisoner at no great
distance, and I would fain have the Friar to help me to deal with
him in due sort---I greatly misdoubt the safety of the bluff
priest.”
“I were right sorry for that,” said the Knight of the Fetterlock,
“for I stand indebted to him for the joyous hospitality of a
merry night in his cell. Let us to the ruins of the castle; it
may be we shall there learn some tidings of him.”
While they thus spoke, a loud shout among the yeomen announced
the arrival of him for whom they feared, as they learned from
the stentorian voice of the Friar himself, long before they saw
his burly person.
“Make room, my merry-men!” he exclaimed; “room for your godly
father and his prisoner---Cry welcome once more.---I come, noble
leader, like an eagle with my prey in my clutch.”---And making
his way through the ring, amidst the laughter of all around, he
appeared in majestic triumph, his huge partisan in one hand, and
in the other a halter, one end of which was fastened to the neck
of the unfortunate Isaac of York, who, bent down by sorrow and
terror, was dragged on by the victorious priest, who shouted
aloud, “Where is Allan-a-Dale, to chronicle me in a ballad, or if
it were but a lay?---By Saint Hermangild, the jingling crowder is
ever out of the way where there is an apt theme for exalting
valour!”
“Curtal Priest,” said the Captain, “thou hast been at a wet mass
this morning, as early as it is. In the name of Saint Nicholas,
whom hast thou got here?”
“A captive to my sword and to my lance, noble Captain,” replied
the Clerk of Copmanhurst; “to my bow and to my halberd, I should
rather say; and yet I have redeemed him by my divinity from a
worse captivity. Speak, Jew---have I not ransomed thee from
Sathanas?---have I not taught thee thy ‘credo’, thy ‘pater’, and
thine ‘Ave Maria’?---Did I not spend the whole night in drinking
to thee, and in expounding of mysteries?”
“For the love of God!” ejaculated the poor Jew, “will no one take
me out of the keeping of this mad---I mean this holy man?”
“How’s this, Jew?” said the Friar, with a menacing aspect; “dost
thou recant, Jew?---Bethink thee, if thou dost relapse into thine
infidelity, though thou are not so tender as a suckling pig---I
would I had one to break my fast upon---thou art not too tough to
be roasted! Be conformable, Isaac, and repeat the words after
me. ‘Ave Maria’!---”
“Nay, we will have no profanation, mad Priest,” said Locksley;
“let us rather hear where you found this prisoner of thine.”
“By Saint Dunstan,” said the Friar, “I found him where I sought
for better ware! I did step into the cellarage to see what might
be rescued there; for though a cup of burnt wine, with spice, be
an evening’s drought for an emperor, it were waste, methought, to
let so much good liquor be mulled at once; and I had caught up
one runlet of sack, and was coming to call more aid among these
lazy knaves, who are ever to seek when a good deed is to be done,
when I was avised of a strong door---Aha! thought I, here is the
choicest juice of all in this secret crypt; and the knave butler,
being disturbed in his vocation, hath left the key in the door
---In therefore I went, and found just nought besides a commodity
of rusted chains and this dog of a Jew, who presently rendered
himself my prisoner, rescue or no rescue. I did but refresh
myself after the fatigue of the action, with the unbeliever, with
one humming cup of sack, and was proceeding to lead forth my
captive, when, crash after crash, as with wild thunder-dint and
levin-fire, down toppled the masonry of an outer tower, (marry
beshrew their hands that built it not the firmer!) and blocked up
the passage. The roar of one falling tower followed another---I
gave up thought of life; and deeming it a dishonour to one of my
profession to pass out of this world in company with a Jew, I
heaved up my halberd to beat his brains out; but I took pity on
his grey hairs, and judged it better to lay down the partisan,
and take up my spiritual weapon for his conversion. And truly,
by the blessing of Saint Dunstan, the seed has been sown in good
soil; only that, with speaking to him of mysteries through the
whole night, and being in a manner fasting, (for the few
droughts of sack which I sharpened my wits with were not worth
marking,) my head is well-nigh dizzied, I trow.---But I was clean
exhausted.---Gilbert and Wibbald know in what state they found me
---quite and clean exhausted.”
“We can bear witness,” said Gilbert; “for when we had cleared
away the ruin, and by Saint Dunstan’s help lighted upon the
dungeon stair, we found the runlet of sack half empty, the Jew
half dead, and the Friar more than half---exhausted, as he calls
it.”
“Ye be knaves! ye lie!” retorted the offended Friar; “it was you
and your gormandizing companions that drank up the sack, and
called it your morning draught---I am a pagan, an I kept it not
for the Captain’s own throat. But what recks it? The Jew is
converted, and understands all I have told him, very nearly, if
not altogether, as well as myself.”
“Jew,” said the Captain, “is this true? hast thou renounced thine
unbelief?”
“May I so find mercy in your eyes,” said the Jew, “as I know not
one word which the reverend prelate spake to me all this fearful
night. Alas! I was so distraught with agony, and fear, and
grief, that had our holy father Abraham come to preach to me, he
had found but a deaf listener.”
“Thou liest, Jew, and thou knowest thou dost.” said the Friar; “I
will remind thee of but one word of our conference---thou didst
promise to give all thy substance to our holy Order.”
“So help me the Promise, fair sirs,” said Isaac, even more
alarmed than before, “as no such sounds ever crossed my lips!
Alas! I am an aged beggar’d man---I fear me a childless---have
ruth on me, and let me go!”
“Nay,” said the Friar, “if thou dost retract vows made in favour
of holy Church, thou must do penance.”
Accordingly, he raised his halberd, and would have laid the staff
of it lustily on the Jew’s shoulders, had not the Black Knight
stopped the blow, and thereby transferred the Holy Clerk’s
resentment to himself.
“By Saint Thomas of Kent,” said he, “an I buckle to my gear, I
will teach thee, sir lazy lover, to mell with thine own matters,
maugre thine iron case there!”
“Nay, be not wroth with me,” said the Knight; “thou knowest I am
thy sworn friend and comrade.”
“I know no such thing,” answered the Friar; “and defy thee for a
meddling coxcomb!”
“Nay, but,” said the Knight, who seemed to take a pleasure in
provoking his quondam host, “hast thou forgotten how, that for my
sake (for I say nothing of the temptation of the flagon and the
pasty) thou didst break thy vow of fast and vigil?”
“Truly, friend,” said the Friar, clenching his huge fist, “I will
bestow a buffet on thee.”
“I accept of no such presents,” said the Knight; “I am content to
take thy cuff*
Note H. Richard Coeur-de-Lion.as a loan, but I will repay thee with usury as deep as ever thy
prisoner there exacted in his traffic.”
“I will prove that presently,” said the Friar.
“Hola!” cried the Captain, “what art thou after, mad Friar?
brawling beneath our Trysting-tree?”
“No brawling,” said the Knight, “it is but a friendly interchange
of courtesy.---Friar, strike an thou darest---I will stand thy
blow, if thou wilt stand mine.”
“Thou hast the advantage with that iron pot on thy head,” said
the churchman; “but have at thee---Down thou goest, an thou wert
Goliath of Gath in his brazen helmet.”
The Friar bared his brawny arm up to the elbow, and putting his
full strength to the blow, gave the Knight a buffet that might
have felled an ox. But his adversary stood firm as a rock. A
loud shout was uttered by all the yeomen around; for the Clerk’s
cuff was proverbial amongst them, and there were few who, in jest
or earnest, had not had the occasion to know its vigour.
“Now, Priest,” said, the Knight, pulling off his gauntlet, “if I
had vantage on my head, I will have none on my hand---stand fast
as a true man.”
“‘Genam meam dedi vapulatori’---I have given my cheek to the
smiter,” said the Priest; “an thou canst stir me from the spot,
fellow, I will freely bestow on thee the Jew’s ransom.”
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