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

the Grand Master, “to see this

Damian, clothed in the garments of Christian humility, thus

appear with reverend silence before his Superior, than but two

days since, when the fond fool was decked in a painted coat, and

jangling as pert and as proud as any popinjay?---Speak, Damian,

we permit thee---What is thine errand?”

“A Jew stands without the gate, noble and reverend father,” said

the Squire, “who prays to speak with brother Brian de

Bois-Guilbert.”

“Thou wert right to give me knowledge of it,” said the Grand

Master; “in our presence a Preceptor is but as a common compeer

of our Order, who may not walk according to his own will, but to

that of his Master---even according to the text, ‘In the hearing

of the ear he hath obeyed me.’---It imports us especially to know

of this Bois-Guilbert’s proceedings,” said he, turning to his

companion.

“Report speaks him brave and valiant,” said Conrade.

“And truly is he so spoken of,” said the Grand Master; “in our

valour only we are not degenerated from our predecessors, the

heroes of the Cross. But brother Brian came into our Order a

moody and disappointed man, stirred, I doubt me, to take our vows

and to renounce the world, not in sincerity of soul, but as one

whom some touch of light discontent had driven into penitence.

Since then, he hath become an active and earnest agitator, a

murmurer, and a machinator, and a leader amongst those who impugn

our authority; not considering that the rule is given to the

Master even by the symbol of the staff and the rod---the staff to

support the infirmities of the weak---the rod to correct the

faults of delinquents.---Damian,” he continued, “lead the Jew to

our presence.”

The squire departed with a profound reverence, and in a few

minutes returned, marshalling in Isaac of York. No naked slave,

ushered into the presence of some mighty prince, could approach

his judgment-seat with more profound reverence and terror than

that with which the Jew drew near to the presence of the Grand

Master. When he had approached within the distance of three

yards, Beaumanoir made a sign with his staff that he should come

no farther. The Jew kneeled down on the earth which he kissed in

token of reverence; then rising, stood before the Templars, his

hands folded on his bosom, his head bowed on his breast, in all

the submission of Oriental slavery.

“Damian,” said the Grand Master, “retire, and have a guard ready

to await our sudden call; and suffer no one to enter the garden

until we shall leave it.”---The squire bowed and retreated.

---“Jew,” continued the haughty old man, “mark me. It suits not

our condition to hold with thee long communication, nor do we

waste words or time upon any one. Wherefore be brief in thy

answers to what questions I shall ask thee, and let thy words be

of truth; for if thy tongue doubles with me, I will have it torn

from thy misbelieving jaws.”

The Jew was about to reply, but the Grand Master went on.

“Peace, unbeliever!---not a word in our presence, save in answer

to our questions.---What is thy business with our brother Brian

de Bois-Guilbert?”

Isaac gasped with terror and uncertainty. To tell his tale might

be interpreted into scandalizing the Order; yet, unless he told

it, what hope could he have of achieving his daughter’s

deliverance? Beaumanoir saw his mortal apprehension, and

condescended to give him some assurance.

“Fear nothing,” he said, “for thy wretched person, Jew, so thou

dealest uprightly in this matter. I demand again to know from

thee thy business with Brian de Bois-Guilbert?”

“I am bearer of a letter,” stammered out the Jew, “so please your

reverend valour, to that good knight, from Prior Aymer of the

Abbey of Jorvaulx.”

“Said I not these were evil times, Conrade?” said the Master. “A

Cistertian Prior sends a letter to a soldier of the Temple, and

can find no more fitting messenger than an unbelieving Jew.

---Give me the letter.”

The Jew, with trembling hands, undid the folds of his Armenian

cap, in which he had deposited the Prior’s tablets for the

greater security, and was about to approach, with hand extended

and body crouched, to place it within the reach of his grim

interrogator.

“Back, dog!” said the Grand Master; “I touch not misbelievers,

save with the sword.---Conrade, take thou the letter from the

Jew, and give it to me.”

Beaumanoir, being thus possessed of the tablets, inspected the

outside carefully, and then proceeded to undo the packthread

which secured its folds. “Reverend father,” said Conrade,

interposing, though with much deference, “wilt thou break the

seal?”

“And will I not?” said Beaumanoir, with a frown. “Is it not

written in the forty-second capital, ‘De Lectione Literarum’ that

a Templar shall not receive a letter, no not from his father,

without communicating the same to the Grand Master, and reading

it in his presence?”

He then perused the letter in haste, with an expression of

surprise and horror; read it over again more slowly; then

holding it out to Conrade with one hand, and slightly striking it

with the other, exclaimed---“Here is goodly stuff for one

Christian man to write to another, and both members, and no

inconsiderable members, of religious professions! When,” said he

solemnly, and looking upward, “wilt thou come with thy fanners to

purge the thrashing-floor?”

Mont-Fitchet took the letter from his Superior, and was about to

peruse it.

“Read it aloud, Conrade,” said the Grand Master,---“and do thou”

(to Isaac) “attend to the purport of it, for we will question

thee concerning it.”

Conrade read the letter, which was in these words: “Aymer, by

divine grace, Prior of the Cistertian house of Saint Mary’s of

Jorvaulx, to Sir Brian de Bois-Guilbert, a Knight of the holy

Order of the Temple, wisheth health, with the bounties of King

Bacchus and of my Lady Venus. Touching our present condition,

dear Brother, we are a captive in the hands of certain lawless

and godless men, who have not feared to detain our person, and

put us to ransom; whereby we have also learned of

Front-de-Boeuf’s misfortune, and that thou hast escaped with that

fair Jewish sorceress, whose black eyes have bewitched thee. We

are heartily rejoiced of thy safety; nevertheless, we pray thee

to be on thy guard in the matter of this second Witch of Endor;

for we are privately assured that your Great Master, who careth

not a bean for cherry cheeks and black eyes, comes from Normandy

to diminish your mirth, and amend your misdoings. Wherefore we

pray you heartily to beware, and to be found watching, even as

the Holy Text hath it, ‘Invenientur vigilantes’. And the wealthy

Jew her father, Isaac of York, having prayed of me letters in his

behalf, I gave him these, earnestly advising, and in a sort

entreating, that you do hold the damsel to ransom, seeing he will

pay you from his bags as much as may find fifty damsels upon

safer terms, whereof I trust to have my part when we make merry

together, as true brothers, not forgetting the wine-cup. For

what saith the text, ‘Vinum laetificat cor hominis’; and again,

‘Rex delectabitur pulchritudine tua’.

“Till which merry meeting, we wish you farewell. Given from this

den of thieves, about the hour of matins,

“Aymer Pr. S. M. Jorvolciencis.

“‘Postscriptum.’ Truly your golden chain hath not long abidden

with me, and will now sustain, around the neck of an outlaw

deer-stealer, the whistle wherewith he calleth on his hounds.”

“What sayest thou to this, Conrade?” said the Grand Master---“Den

of thieves! and a fit residence is a den of thieves for such a

Prior. No wonder that the hand of God is upon us, and that in

the Holy Land we lose place by place, foot by foot, before the

infidels, when we have such churchmen as this Aymer.---And what

meaneth he, I trow, by this second Witch of Endor?” said he to

his confident, something apart. Conrade was better acquainted

(perhaps by practice) with the jargon of gallantry, than was his

Superior; and he expounded the passage which embarrassed the

Grand Master, to be a sort of language used by worldly men

towards those whom they loved ‘par amours’; but the explanation

did not satisfy the bigoted Beaumanoir.

“There is more in it than thou dost guess, Conrade; thy

simplicity is no match for this deep abyss of wickedness. This

Rebecca of York was a pupil of that Miriam of whom thou hast

heard. Thou shalt hear the Jew own it even now.” Then turning

to Isaac, he said aloud, “Thy daughter, then, is prisoner with

Brian de Bois-Guilbert?”

“Ay, reverend valorous sir,” stammered poor Isaac, “and

whatsoever ransom a poor man may pay for her deliverance------”

“Peace!” said the Grand Master. “This thy daughter hath practised

the art of healing, hath she not?”

“Ay, gracious sir,” answered the Jew, with more confidence; “and

knight and yeoman, squire and vassal, may bless the goodly gift

which Heaven hath assigned to her. Many a one can testify that

she hath recovered them by her art, when every other human aid

hath proved vain; but the blessing of the God of Jacob was upon

her.”

Beaumanoir turned to Mont-Fitchet with a grim smile. “See,

brother,” he said, “the deceptions of the devouring Enemy!

Behold the baits with which he fishes for souls, giving a poor

space of earthly life in exchange for eternal happiness

hereafter. Well said our blessed rule, ‘Semper percutiatur leo

vorans’.---Up on the lion! Down with the destroyer!” said he,

shaking aloft his mystic abacus, as if in defiance of the powers

of darkness---“Thy daughter worketh the cures, I doubt not,” thus

he went on to address the Jew, “by words and sighs, and periapts,

and other cabalistical mysteries.”

“Nay, reverend and brave Knight,” answered Isaac, “but in chief

measure by a balsam of marvellous virtue.”

“Where had she that secret?” said Beaumanoir.

“It was delivered to her,” answered Isaac, reluctantly, “by

Miriam, a sage matron of our tribe.”

“Ah, false Jew!” said the Grand Master; “was it not from that

same witch Miriam, the abomination of whose enchantments have

been heard of throughout every Christian land?” exclaimed the

Grand Master, crossing himself. “Her body was burnt at a stake,

and her ashes were scattered to the four winds; and so be it with

me and mine Order, if I do not as much to her pupil, and more

also! I will teach her to throw spell and incantation over the

soldiers of the blessed Temple.---There, Damian, spurn this Jew

from the gate---shoot him dead if he oppose or turn again. With

his daughter we will deal as the Christian law and our own high

office warrant.”

Poor Isaac was hurried off accordingly, and expelled from the

preceptory; all his entreaties, and even his offers, unheard and

disregarded. He could do not better than return to the house of

the Rabbi, and endeavour, through his means, to learn how his

daughter was to be disposed of. He had hitherto feared for her

honour, he was now to tremble for her life. Meanwhile, the Grand

Master ordered to his presence the Preceptor of Templestowe.

CHAPTER XXXVI

Say not my art is fraud---all live by seeming.

The beggar begs with it, and the gay courtier

Gains land and title, rank and rule, by seeming;

The clergy scorn it not, and the bold soldier

Will eke with it his service.---All admit it,

All practise it; and he who is content

With showing what he is, shall have small credit

In church, or camp, or state---So wags the world.

Old Play

Albert Malvoisin, President, or, in the language of the Order,

Preceptor of the establishment of Templestowe, was