Ivanhoe, Walter Scott [philippa perry book .txt] 📗

to her companion, the sacred text⁠—“The quiver rattleth⁠—the glittering spear and the shield⁠—the noise of the captains and the shouting!”

But Ivanhoe was like the warhorse of that sublime passage, glowing with impatience at his inactivity, and with his ardent desire to mingle in the affray of which these sounds were the introduction. “If I could but drag myself,” he said, “to yonder window, that I might see how this brave game is like to go⁠—If I had but bow to shoot a shaft, or battle-axe to strike were it but a single blow for our deliverance!⁠—It is in vain⁠—it is in vain⁠—I am alike nerveless and weaponless!”

“Fret not thyself, noble knight,” answered Rebecca, “the sounds have ceased of a sudden⁠—it may be they join not battle.”

“Thou knowest nought of it,” said Wilfred, impatiently; “this dead pause only shows that the men are at their posts on the walls, and expecting an instant attack; what we have heard was but the instant muttering of the storm⁠—it will burst anon in all its fury.⁠—Could I but reach yonder window!”

“Thou wilt but injure thyself by the attempt, noble knight,” replied his attendant. Observing his extreme solicitude, she firmly added, “I myself will stand at the lattice, and describe to you as I can what passes without.”

“You must not⁠—you shall not!” exclaimed Ivanhoe; “each lattice, each aperture, will be soon a mark for the archers; some random shaft⁠—”

“It shall be welcome!” murmured Rebecca, as with firm pace she ascended two or three steps, which led to the window of which they spoke.

“Rebecca, dear Rebecca!” exclaimed Ivanhoe, “this is no maiden’s pastime⁠—do not expose thyself to wounds and death, and render me forever miserable for having given the occasion; at least, cover thyself with yonder ancient buckler, and show as little of your person at the lattice as may be.”

Following with wonderful promptitude the directions of Ivanhoe, and availing herself of the protection of the large ancient shield, which she placed against the lower part of the window, Rebecca, with tolerable security to herself, could witness part of what was passing without the castle, and report to Ivanhoe the preparations which the assailants were making for the storm. Indeed the situation which she thus obtained was peculiarly favourable for this purpose, because, being placed on an angle of the main building, Rebecca could not only see what passed beyond the precincts of the castle, but also commanded a view of the outwork likely to be the first object of the meditated assault. It was an exterior fortification of no great height or strength, intended to protect the postern-gate, through which Cedric had been recently dismissed by Front-de-Boeuf. The castle moat divided this species of barbican from the rest of the fortress, so that, in case of its being taken, it was easy to cut off the communication with the main building, by withdrawing the temporary bridge. In the outwork was a sallyport corresponding to the postern of the castle, and the whole was surrounded by a strong palisade. Rebecca could observe, from the number of men placed for the defence of this post, that the besieged entertained apprehensions for its safety; and from the mustering of the assailants in a direction nearly opposite to the outwork, it seemed no less plain that it had been selected as a vulnerable point of attack.

These appearances she hastily communicated to Ivanhoe, and added, “The skirts of the wood seem lined with archers, although only a few are advanced from its dark shadow.”

“Under what banner?” asked Ivanhoe.

“Under no ensign of war which I can observe,” answered Rebecca.

“A singular novelty,” muttered the knight, “to advance to storm such a castle without pennon or banner displayed!⁠—Seest thou who they be that act as leaders?”

“A knight, clad in sable armour, is the most conspicuous,” said the Jewess; “he alone is armed from head to heel, and seems to assume the direction of all around him.”

“What device does he bear on his shield?” replied Ivanhoe.

“Something resembling a bar of iron, and a padlock painted blue on the black shield.”34

“A fetterlock and shacklebolt azure,” said Ivanhoe; “I know not who may bear the device, but well I ween it might now be mine own. Canst thou not see the motto?”

“Scarce the device itself at this distance,” replied Rebecca; “but when the sun glances fair upon his shield, it shows as I tell you.”

“Seem there no other leaders?” exclaimed the anxious enquirer.

“None of mark and distinction that I can behold from this station,” said Rebecca; “but, doubtless, the other side of the castle is also assailed. They appear even now preparing to advance⁠—God of Zion, protect us!⁠—What a dreadful sight!⁠—Those who advance first bear huge shields and defences made of plank; the others follow, bending their bows as they come on.⁠—They raise their bows!⁠—God of Moses, forgive the creatures thou hast made!”

Her description was here suddenly interrupted by the signal for assault, which was given by the blast of a shrill bugle, and at once answered by a flourish of the Norman trumpets from the battlements, which, mingled with the deep and hollow clang of the nakers, (a species of kettledrum,) retorted in notes of defiance the challenge of the enemy. The shouts of both parties augmented the fearful din, the assailants crying, “Saint George for merry England!” and the Normans answering them with loud cries of “En avant De Bracy!⁠—Beau-seant! Beau-seant!⁠—Front-de-Boeuf à la rescousse!” according to the war-cries of their different commanders.

It was not, however, by clamour that the contest was to be decided, and the desperate efforts of the assailants were met by an equally vigorous defence on the part of the besieged. The archers, trained by their woodland pastimes to the most effective use of the longbow, shot, to use the appropriate phrase of the time, so “wholly together,” that no point at which a defender could show the least part of his person, escaped their cloth-yard shafts. By this heavy discharge, which continued as thick