The Pilgrim mounted with more deliberation, reaching, as he departed,
his hand to Gurth, who kissed it with the utmost possible veneration.
The swineherd stood gazing after the travellers until they were lost
under the boughs of the forest path, when he was disturbed from his
reverie by the voice of Wamba.

"Knowest thou," said the Jester, "my good friend Gurth, that thou art
strangely courteous and most unwontedly pious on this summer morning? I
would I were a black Prior or a barefoot Palmer, to avail myself of thy
unwonted zeal and courtesy--certes, I would make more out of it than a
kiss of the hand."

"Thou art no fool thus far, Wamba," answered Gurth, "though thou arguest
from appearances, and the wisest of us can do no more--But it is time to
look after my charge."

So saying, he turned back to the mansion, attended by the Jester.

Meanwhile the travellers continued to press on their journey with a
dispatch which argued the extremity of the Jew's fears, since persons at
his age are seldom fond of rapid motion. The Palmer, to whom every path
and outlet in the wood appeared to be familiar, led the way through the
most devious paths, and more than once excited anew the suspicion of
the Israelite, that he intended to betray him into some ambuscade of his
enemies.

His doubts might have been indeed pardoned; for, except perhaps the
flying fish, there was no race existing on the earth, in the air, or
the waters, who were the object of such an unintermitting, general, and
relentless persecution as the Jews of this period. Upon the slightest
and most unreasonable pretences, as well as upon accusations the most
absurd and groundless, their persons and property were exposed to every
turn of popular fury; for Norman, Saxon, Dane, and Briton, however
adverse these races were to each other, contended which should look with
greatest detestation upon a people, whom it was accounted a point of
religion to hate, to revile, to despise, to plunder, and to persecute.
The kings of the Norman race, and the independent nobles, who followed
their example in all acts of tyranny, maintained against this devoted
people a persecution of a more regular, calculated, and self-interested
kind. It is a well-known story of King John, that he confined a wealthy
Jew in one of the royal castles, and daily caused one of his teeth to
be torn out, until, when the jaw of the unhappy Israelite was half
disfurnished, he consented to pay a large sum, which it was the tyrant's
object to extort from him. The little ready money which was in the
country was chiefly in possession of this persecuted people, and the
nobility hesitated not to follow the example of their sovereign, in
wringing it from them by every species of oppression, and even personal
torture. Yet the passive courage inspired by the love of gain, induced
the Jews to dare the various evils to which they were subjected, in
consideration of the immense profits which they were enabled to realize
in a country naturally so wealthy as England. In spite of every kind
of discouragement, and even of the special court of taxations already
mentioned, called the Jews' Exchequer, erected for the very purpose of
despoiling and distressing them, the Jews increased, multiplied, and
accumulated huge sums, which they transferred from one hand to another
by means of bills of exchange--an invention for which commerce is said
to be indebted to them, and which enabled them to transfer their wealth
from land to land, that when threatened with oppression in one country,
their treasure might be secured in another.

The obstinacy and avarice of the Jews being thus in a measure placed
in opposition to the fanaticism that tyranny of those under whom they
lived, seemed to increase in proportion to the persecution with which
they were visited; and the immense wealth they usually acquired in
commerce, while it frequently placed them in danger, was at other times
used to extend their influence, and to secure to them a certain
degree of protection. On these terms they lived; and their character,
influenced accordingly, was watchful, suspicious, and timid--yet
obstinate, uncomplying, and skilful in evading the dangers to which they
were exposed.

When the travellers had pushed on at a rapid rate through many devious
paths, the Palmer at length broke silence.

"That large decayed oak," he said, "marks the boundaries over which
Front-de-Boeuf claims authority--we are long since far from those of
Malvoisin. There is now no fear of pursuit."

"May the wheels of their chariots be taken off," said the Jew, "like
those of the host of Pharaoh, that they may drive heavily!--But leave me
not, good Pilgrim--Think but of that fierce and savage Templar, with
his Saracen slaves--they will regard neither territory, nor manor, nor
lordship."

"Our road," said the Palmer, "should here separate; for it beseems not
men of my character and thine to travel together longer than needs must
be. Besides, what succour couldst thou have from me, a peaceful Pilgrim,
against two armed heathens?"

"O good youth," answered the Jew, "thou canst defend me, and I know thou
wouldst. Poor as I am, I will requite it--not with money, for money, so
help me my Father Abraham, I have none--but---"

"Money and recompense," said the Palmer, interrupting him, "I have
already said I require not of thee. Guide thee I can; and, it may be,
even in some sort defend thee; since to protect a Jew against a Saracen,
can scarce be accounted unworthy of a Christian. Therefore, Jew, I will
see thee safe under some fitting escort. We are now not far from the
town of Sheffield, where thou mayest easily find many of thy tribe with
whom to take refuge."

"The blessing of Jacob be upon thee, good youth!" said the Jew; "in
Sheffield I can harbour with my kinsman Zareth, and find some means of
travelling forth with safety."

"Be it so," said the Palmer; "at Sheffield then we part, and
half-an-hour's riding will bring us in sight of that town."

The half hour was spent in perfect silence on both parts; the Pilgrim
perhaps disdaining to address the Jew, except in case of absolute
necessity, and the Jew not presuming to force a conversation with a
person whose journey to the Holy Sepulchre gave a sort of sanctity to
his character. They paused on the top of a gently rising bank, and the
Pilgrim, pointing to the town of Sheffield, which lay beneath them,
repeated the words, "Here, then, we part."

"Not till you have had the poor Jew's thanks," said Isaac; "for I
presume not to ask you to go with me to my kinsman Zareth's, who might
aid me with some means of repaying your good offices."

"I have already said," answered the Pilgrim, "that I desire no
recompense. If among the huge list of thy debtors, thou wilt, for my
sake, spare the gyves and the dungeon to some unhappy Christian who
stands in thy danger, I shall hold this morning's service to thee well
bestowed."

"Stay, stay," said the Jew, laying hold of his garment; "something
would I do more than this, something for thyself.--God knows the Jew
is poor--yes, Isaac is the beggar of his tribe--but forgive me should I
guess what thou most lackest at this moment."

"If thou wert to guess truly," said the Palmer, "it is what thou canst
not supply, wert thou as wealthy as thou sayst thou art poor."

"As I say?" echoed the Jew; "O! believe it, I say but the truth; I am
a plundered, indebted, distressed man. Hard hands have wrung from me my
goods, my money, my ships, and all that I possessed--Yet I can tell thee
what thou lackest, and, it may be, supply it too. Thy wish even now is
for a horse and armour."

The Palmer started, and turned suddenly towards the Jew:--"What fiend
prompted that guess?" said he, hastily.

"No matter," said the Jew, smiling, "so that it be a true one--and, as I
can guess thy want, so I can supply it."

"But consider," said the Palmer, "my character, my dress, my vow."

"I know you Christians," replied the Jew, "and that the noblest of you
will take the staff and sandal in superstitious penance, and walk afoot
to visit the graves of dead men."

"Blaspheme not, Jew," said the Pilgrim, sternly.

"Forgive me," said the Jew; "I spoke rashly. But there dropt words from
you last night and this morning, that, like sparks from flint, showed
the metal within; and in the bosom of that Palmer's gown, is hidden a
knight's chain and spurs of gold. They glanced as you stooped over my
bed in the morning."

The Pilgrim could not forbear smiling. "Were thy garments searched by as
curious an eye, Isaac," said he, "what discoveries might not be made?"

"No more of that," said the Jew, changing colour; and drawing forth his
writing materials in haste, as if to stop the conversation, he began to
write upon a piece of paper which he supported on the top of his
yellow cap, without dismounting from his mule. When he had finished, he
delivered the scroll, which was in the Hebrew character, to the Pilgrim,
saying, "In the town of Leicester all men know the rich Jew, Kirjath
Jairam of Lombardy; give him this scroll--he hath on sale six Milan
harnesses, the worst would suit a crowned head--ten goodly steeds, the
worst might mount a king, were he to do battle for his throne. Of these
he will give thee thy choice, with every thing else that can furnish
thee forth for the tournament: when it is over, thou wilt return them
safely--unless thou shouldst have wherewith to pay their value to the
owner."

"But, Isaac," said the Pilgrim, smiling, "dost thou know that in these
sports, the arms and steed of the knight who is unhorsed are forfeit to
his victor? Now I may be unfortunate, and so lose what I cannot replace
or repay."

The Jew looked somewhat astounded at this possibility; but collecting
his courage, he replied hastily. "No--no--no--It is impossible--I will
not think so. The blessing of Our Father will be upon thee. Thy lance
will be powerful as the rod of Moses."

So saying, he was turning his mule's head away, when the Palmer, in his
turn, took hold of his gaberdine. "Nay, but Isaac, thou knowest not all
the risk. The steed may be slain, the armour injured--for I will spare
neither horse nor man. Besides, those of thy tribe give nothing for
nothing; something there must be paid for their use."

The Jew twisted himself in the saddle, like a man in a fit of the colic;
but his better feelings predominated over those which were most familiar
to him. "I care not," he said, "I care not--let me go. If there is
damage, it will cost you nothing--if there is usage money, Kirjath
Jairam will forgive it for the sake of his kinsman Isaac. Fare thee
well!--Yet hark thee, good youth," said he, turning about, "thrust
thyself not too forward into this vain hurly-burly--I speak not for
endangering the steed, and coat of armour, but for the sake of thine own
life and limbs."

"Gramercy for thy caution," said the Palmer, again smiling; "I will use
thy courtesy frankly, and it will go hard with me but I will requite
it."

They parted, and took different roads for the town of Sheffield.




CHAPTER VII

     Knights, with a long retinue of their squires,
     In gaudy liveries march and quaint attires;
     One laced the helm, another held the lance,
     A third the shining buckler did advance.
     The courser paw'd the ground with restless feet,
     And snorting foam'd and champ'd the golden bit.
     The smiths and armourers on palfreys ride,
     Files in their hands, and hammers at their side;
     And nails for loosen'd spears, and thongs for shields provide.
     The yeomen guard the streets in seemly bands;
     And clowns come crowding on, with cudgels in their hands.
     --Palamon and Arcite

The condition of the English nation was at this time sufficiently
miserable. King Richard was absent a prisoner, and in the power of
the perfidious and cruel Duke of Austria. Even the very place of his
captivity was uncertain, and his fate but very imperfectly known to the
generality of his subjects, who were, in the meantime, a prey to every
species of subaltern oppression.

Prince John, in league with Philip of France, Coeur-de-Lion's mortal
enemy, was using every species of influence with the Duke of Austria, to
prolong the captivity of his brother Richard, to whom he stood indebted
for so many favours. In the meantime, he was strengthening his own
faction in the kingdom, of which he proposed to dispute the succession,
in case of the King's death, with the legitimate heir, Arthur Duke of
Brittany, son of Geoffrey Plantagenet, the elder brother of John. This
usurpation, it is well known, he afterwards effected. His own character
being light, profligate, and perfidious, John easily attached to his
person and faction, not only all who had reason to dread the resentment
of Richard for criminal proceedings during his absence, but also the
numerous class of "lawless resolutes," whom the crusades had turned back
on their country, accomplished in the vices of the East, impoverished
in substance, and hardened in character, and who placed their hopes
of harvest in civil commotion. To these causes of public distress and
apprehension, must be added, the multitude of outlaws, who, driven
to despair by the oppression of the feudal nobility, and the severe
exercise of the forest laws, banded together in large gangs, and,
keeping possession of the forests and the wastes, set at defiance the
justice and magistracy of the country. The nobles themselves, each
fortified within his own castle, and playing the petty sovereign over
his own dominions, were the leaders of bands scarce less lawless and
oppressive than those of the avowed depredators. To maintain these
retainers, and to support the extravagance and magnificence which their
pride induced them to affect, the nobility borrowed sums of money from
the Jews at the most usurious interest, which gnawed into their estates
like consuming cankers, scarce to be cured unless when circumstances
gave them an opportunity of getting free, by exercising upon their
creditors some act of unprincipled violence.

Under the various burdens imposed by this unhappy state of affairs,
the people of England suffered deeply for the present, and had yet
more dreadful cause to fear for the future. To augment their misery, a
contagious disorder of a dangerous nature spread through the land; and,
rendered more virulent by the uncleanness, the indifferent food, and
the wretched lodging of the lower classes, swept off many whose fate the
survivors were tempted to envy, as exempting them from the evils which
were to come.

Yet amid these accumulated distresses, the poor as well as the rich, the
vulgar as well as the noble, in the event of a tournament, which was the
grand spectacle of that age, felt as much interested as the half-starved
citizen of Madrid, who has not a real left to buy provisions for his
family, feels in the issue of a bull-feast. Neither duty nor infirmity
could keep youth or age from such exhibitions. The Passage of Arms,
as it was called, which was to take place at Ashby, in the county of
Leicester, as champions of the first renown were to take the field
in the presence of Prince John himself, who was expected to grace the
lists, had attracted universal attention, and an immense confluence of
persons of all ranks hastened upon the appointed morning to the place of
combat.

The scene was singularly romantic. On the verge of a wood, which
approached to within a mile of the town of Ashby, was an extensive
meadow, of the finest and most beautiful green turf, surrounded on one
side by the forest, and fringed on the other by straggling oak-trees,
some of which had grown to an immense size. The ground, as if fashioned
on purpose for the martial display which was intended, sloped gradually
down on all sides to a level bottom, which was enclosed for the lists
with strong palisades, forming a space of a quarter of a mile in length,
and about half as broad. The form of the enclosure was an oblong square,
save that the corners were considerably rounded off, in order to afford
more convenience for the spectators. The openings for the entry of the
combatants were at the northern and southern extremities of the lists,
accessible by strong wooden gates, each wide enough to admit two
horsemen riding abreast. At each of these portals were stationed two
heralds, attended by six trumpets, as many pursuivants, and a strong
body of men-at-arms for maintaining order, and ascertaining the quality
of the knights who proposed to engage in this martial game.

On a platform beyond the southern entrance, formed by a natural
elevation of the ground, were pitched five magnificent pavilions,
adorned with pennons of russet and black, the chosen colours of the five
knights challengers. The cords of the tents were of the same colour.
Before each pavilion was suspended the shield of the knight by whom it
was occupied, and beside it stood his squire, quaintly disguised as a
salvage or silvan man, or in some other fantastic dress, according to
the taste of his master, and the character he was pleased to assume
during the game. [16]

The central pavilion, as the place of honour, had been assigned to Brian
be Bois-Guilbert, whose renown in all games of chivalry, no less than
his connexions with the knights who had undertaken this Passage of
Arms, had occasioned him to be eagerly received into the company of the
challengers, and even adopted as their chief and leader, though he had
so recently joined them. On one side of his tent were pitched those of
Reginald Front-de-Boeuf and Richard de Malvoisin, and on the other was
the pavilion of Hugh de Grantmesnil, a noble baron in the vicinity,
whose ancestor had been Lord High Steward of England in the time of the
Conqueror, and his son William Rufus. Ralph de Vipont, a knight of St
John of Jerusalem, who had some ancient possessions at a place called
Heather, near Ashby-de-la-Zouche, occupied the fifth pavilion. From the
entrance into the lists, a gently sloping passage, ten yards in breadth,
led up to the platform on which the tents were pitched. It was strongly
secured by a palisade on each side, as was the esplanade in front of the
pavilions, and the whole was guarded by men-at-arms.

The northern access to the lists terminated in a similar entrance of
thirty feet in breadth, at the extremity of which was a large enclosed
space for such knights as might be disposed to enter the lists with the
challengers, behind which were placed tents containing refreshments of
every kind for their accommodation, with armourers, tarriers, and other
attendants, in readiness to give their services wherever they might be
necessary.

The exterior of the lists was in part occupied by temporary galleries,
spread with tapestry and carpets, and accommodated with cushions for the
convenience of those ladies and nobles who were expected to attend the
tournament. A narrow space, betwixt these galleries and the lists, gave
accommodation for yeomanry and spectators of a better degree than
the mere vulgar, and might be compared to the pit of a theatre. The
promiscuous multitude arranged themselves upon large banks of turf
prepared for the purpose, which, aided by the natural elevation of the
ground, enabled them to overlook the galleries, and obtain a fair view
into the lists. Besides the accommodation which these stations afforded,
many hundreds had perched themselves on the branches of the trees which
surrounded the meadow; and even the steeple of a country church, at some
distance, was crowded with spectators.

It only remains to notice respecting the general arrangement, that
one gallery in the very centre of the eastern side of the lists, and
consequently exactly opposite to the spot where the shock of the combat
was to take place, was raised higher than the others, more richly
decorated, and graced by a sort of throne and canopy, on which the
royal arms were emblazoned. Squires, pages, and yeomen in rich liveries,
waited around this place of honour, which was designed for Prince John
and his attendants. Opposite to this royal gallery was another, elevated
to the same height, on the western side of the lists; and more gaily, if
less sumptuously decorated, than that destined for the Prince himself.
A train of pages and of young maidens, the most beautiful who could be
selected, gaily dressed in fancy habits of green and pink, surrounded
a throne decorated in the same colours. Among pennons and flags bearing
wounded hearts, burning hearts, bleeding hearts, bows and quivers,
and all the commonplace emblems of the triumphs of Cupid, a blazoned
inscription informed the spectators, that this seat of honour was
designed for "La Royne de las Beaulte et des Amours". But who was to
represent the Queen of Beauty and of Love on the present occasion no one
was prepared to guess.

Meanwhile, spectators of every description thronged forward to occupy
their respective stations, and not without many quarrels concerning
those which they were entitled to hold. Some of these were settled by
the men-at-arms with brief ceremony; the shafts of their battle-axes,
and pummels of their swords, being readily employed as arguments to
convince the more refractory. Others, which involved the rival claims
of more elevated persons, were determined by the heralds, or by the two
marshals of the field, William de Wyvil, and Stephen de Martival, who,
armed at all points, rode up and down the lists to enforce and preserve
good order among the spectators.

Gradually the galleries became filled with knights and nobles, in their
robes of peace, whose long and rich-tinted mantles were contrasted with
the gayer and more splendid habits of the ladies, who, in a greater
proportion than even the men themselves, thronged to witness a sport,
which one would have thought too bloody and dangerous to afford their
sex much pleasure. The lower and interior space was soon filled by
substantial yeomen and burghers, and such of the lesser gentry, as, from
modesty, poverty, or dubious title, durst not assume any higher place.
It was of course amongst these that the most frequent disputes for
precedence occurred.

"Dog of an unbeliever," said an old man, whose threadbare tunic bore
witness to his poverty, as his sword, and dagger, and golden chain
intimated his pretensions to rank,--"whelp of a she-wolf! darest
thou press upon a Christian, and a Norman gentleman of the blood of
Montdidier?"

This rough expostulation was addressed to no other than our acquaintance
Isaac, who, richly and even magnificently dressed in a gaberdine
ornamented with lace and lined with fur, was endeavouring to make place
in the foremost row beneath the gallery for his daughter, the beautiful
Rebecca, who had joined him at Ashby, and who was now hanging on her
father's arm, not a little terrified by the popular displeasure which
seemed generally excited by her parent's presumption. But Isaac, though
we have seen him sufficiently timid on other occasions, knew well that
at present he had nothing to fear. It was not in places of general
resort, or where their equals were assembled, that any avaricious or
malevolent noble durst offer him injury. At such meetings the Jews
were under the protection of the general law; and if that proved a
weak assurance, it usually happened that there were among the persons
assembled some barons, who, for their own interested motives, were ready
to act as their protectors. On the present occasion, Isaac felt more
than usually confident, being aware that Prince John was even then in
the very act of negotiating a large loan from the Jews of York, to
be secured upon certain jewels and lands. Isaac's own share in this
transaction was considerable, and he well knew that the Prince's eager
desire to bring it to a conclusion would ensure him his protection in
the dilemma in which he stood.

Emboldened by these considerations, the Jew pursued his point, and
jostled the Norman Christian, without respect either to his descent,
quality, or religion. The complaints of the old man, however, excited
the indignation of the bystanders. One of these, a stout well-set
yeoman, arrayed in Lincoln green, having twelve arrows stuck in his
belt, with a baldric and badge of silver, and a bow of six feet length
in his hand, turned short round, and while his countenance, which his
constant exposure to weather had rendered brown as a hazel nut, grew
darker with anger, he advised the Jew to remember that all the wealth
he had acquired by sucking the blood of his miserable victims had but
swelled him like a bloated spider, which might be overlooked while he
kept in a comer, but would be crushed if it ventured into the light.
This intimation, delivered in Norman-English with a firm voice and
a stern aspect, made the Jew shrink back; and he would have probably
withdrawn himself altogether from a vicinity so dangerous, had not the
attention of every one been called to the sudden entrance of Prince
John, who at that moment entered the lists, attended by a numerous and
gay train, consisting partly of laymen, partly of churchmen, as light in
their dress, and as gay in their demeanour, as their companions. Among
the latter was the Prior of Jorvaulx, in the most gallant trim which a
dignitary of the church could venture to exhibit. Fur and gold were not
spared in his garments; and the points of his boots, out-heroding
the preposterous fashion of the time, turned up so very far, as to
be attached, not to his knees merely, but to his very girdle, and
effectually prevented him from putting his foot into the stirrup. This,
however, was a slight inconvenience to the gallant Abbot, who,
perhaps, even rejoicing in the opportunity to display his accomplished
horsemanship before so many spectators, especially of the fair sex,
dispensed with the use of these supports to a timid rider. The rest
of Prince John's retinue consisted of the favourite leaders of his
mercenary troops, some marauding barons and profligate attendants upon
the court, with several Knights Templars and Knights of St John.

It may be here remarked, that the knights of these two orders were
accounted hostile to King Richard, having adopted the side of Philip
of France in the long train of disputes which took place in Palestine
betwixt that monarch and the lion-hearted King of England. It was the
well-known consequence of this discord that Richard's repeated victories
had been rendered fruitless, his romantic attempts to besiege Jerusalem
disappointed, and the fruit of all the glory which he had acquired had
dwindled into an uncertain truce with the Sultan Saladin. With the same
policy which had dictated the conduct of their brethren in the Holy
Land, the Templars and Hospitallers in England and Normandy attached
themselves to the faction of Prince John, having little reason to desire
the return of Richard to England, or the succession of Arthur, his
legitimate heir. For the opposite reason, Prince John hated and
contemned the few Saxon families of consequence which subsisted in
England, and omitted no opportunity of mortifying and affronting them;
being conscious that his person and pretensions were disliked by them,
as well as by the greater part of the English commons, who feared
farther innovation upon their rights and liberties, from a sovereign of
John's licentious and tyrannical disposition.

Attended by this gallant equipage, himself well mounted, and splendidly
dressed in crimson and in gold, bearing upon his hand a falcon, and
having his head covered by a rich fur bonnet, adorned with a circle of
precious stones, from which his long curled hair escaped and overspread
his shoulders, Prince John, upon a grey and high-mettled palfrey,
caracoled within the lists at the head of his jovial party, laughing
loud with his train, and eyeing with all the boldness of royal criticism
the beauties who adorned the lofty galleries.

Those who remarked in the physiognomy of the Prince a dissolute
audacity, mingled with extreme haughtiness and indifference to the
feelings of others could not yet deny to his countenance that sort of
comeliness which belongs to an open set of features, well formed by
nature, modelled by art to the usual rules of courtesy, yet so far
frank and honest, that they seemed as if they disclaimed to conceal the
natural workings of the soul. Such an expression is often mistaken for
manly frankness, when in truth it arises from the reckless indifference
of a libertine disposition, conscious of superiority of birth, of
wealth, or of some other adventitious advantage, totally unconnected
with personal merit. To those who did not think so deeply, and they were
the greater number by a hundred to one, the splendour of Prince John's
"rheno", (i.e. fur tippet,) the richness of his cloak, lined with the
most costly sables, his maroquin boots and golden spurs, together with
the grace with which he managed his palfrey, were sufficient to merit
clamorous applause.

In his joyous caracole round the lists, the attention of the Prince
was called by the commotion, not yet subsided, which had attended the
ambitious movement of Isaac towards the higher places of the assembly.
The quick eye of Prince John instantly recognised the Jew, but was
much more agreeably attracted by the beautiful daughter of Zion, who,
terrified by the tumult, clung close to the arm of her aged father.

The figure of Rebecca might indeed have compared with the proudest
beauties of England, even though it had been judged by as shrewd a
connoisseur as Prince John. Her form was exquisitely symmetrical,
and was shown to advantage by a sort of Eastern dress, which she wore
according to the fashion of the females of her nation. Her turban
of yellow silk suited well with the darkness of her complexion. The
brilliancy of her eyes, the superb arch of her eyebrows, her well-formed
aquiline nose, her teeth as white as pearl, and the profusion of her
sable tresses, which, each arranged in its own little spiral of twisted
curls, fell down upon as much of a lovely neck and bosom as a simarre
of the richest Persian silk, exhibiting flowers in their natural colours
embossed upon a purple ground, permitted to be visible--all these
constituted a combination of loveliness, which yielded not to the most
beautiful of the maidens who surrounded her. It is true, that of the
golden and pearl-studded clasps, which closed her vest from the throat
to the waist, the three uppermost were left unfastened on account of
the heat, which something enlarged the prospect to which we allude. A
diamond necklace, with pendants of inestimable value, were by this means
also made more conspicuous. The feather of an ostrich, fastened in her
turban by an agraffe set with brilliants, was another distinction of
the beautiful Jewess, scoffed and sneered at by the proud dames who sat
above her, but secretly envied by those who affected to deride them.

"By the bald scalp of Abraham," said Prince John, "yonder Jewess must be
the very model of that perfection, whose charms drove frantic the wisest
king that ever lived! What sayest thou, Prior Aymer?--By the Temple
of that wise king, which our wiser brother Richard proved unable to
recover, she is the very Bride of the Canticles!"

"The Rose of Sharon and the Lily of the Valley,"--answered the Prior, in
a sort of snuffling tone; "but your Grace must remember she is still but
a Jewess."

"Ay!" added Prince John, without heeding him, "and there is my Mammon
of unrighteousness too--the Marquis of Marks, the Baron of Byzants,
contesting for place with penniless dogs, whose threadbare cloaks have
not a single cross in their pouches to keep the devil from dancing
there. By the body of St Mark, my prince of supplies, with his lovely
Jewess, shall have a place in the gallery!--What is she, Isaac? Thy wife
or thy daughter, that Eastern houri that thou lockest under thy arm as
thou wouldst thy treasure-casket?"

"My daughter Rebecca, so please your Grace," answered Isaac, with a
low congee, nothing embarrassed by the Prince's salutation, in which,
however, there was at least as much mockery as courtesy.

"The wiser man thou," said John, with a peal of laughter, in which his
gay followers obsequiously joined. "But, daughter or wife, she should
be preferred according to her beauty and thy merits.--Who sits above
there?" he continued, bending his eye on the gallery. "Saxon churls,
lolling at their lazy length!--out upon them!--let them sit close, and
make room for my prince of usurers and his lovely daughter. I'll make
the hinds know they must share the high places of the synagogue with
those whom the synagogue properly belongs to."

Those who occupied the gallery to whom this injurious and unpolite
speech was addressed, were the family of Cedric the Saxon, with that of
his ally and kinsman, Athelstane of Coningsburgh, a personage, who, on
account of his descent from the last Saxon monarchs of England, was held
in the highest respect by all the Saxon natives of the north of England.
But with the blood of this ancient royal race, many of their infirmities
had descended to Athelstane. He was comely in countenance, bulky
and strong in person, and in the flower of his age--yet inanimate in
expression, dull-eyed, heavy-browed, inactive and sluggish in all his
motions, and so slow in resolution, that the soubriquet of one of his
ancestors was conferred upon him, and he was very generally called
Athelstane the Unready. His friends, and he had many, who, as well as
Cedric, were passionately attached to him, contended that this sluggish
temper arose not from want of courage, but from mere want of decision;
others alleged that his hereditary vice of drunkenness had obscured his
faculties, never of a very acute order, and that the passive courage
and meek good-nature which remained behind, were merely the dregs of a
character that might have been deserving of praise, but of which all the
valuable parts had flown off in the progress of a long course of brutal
debauchery.

It was to this person, such as we have described him, that the Prince
addressed his imperious command to make place for Isaac and Rebecca.
Athelstane, utterly confounded at an order which the manners and
feelings of the times rendered so injuriously insulting, unwilling to
obey, yet undetermined how to resist, opposed only the "vis inertiae" to
the will of John; and, without stirring or making any motion whatever of
obedience, opened his large grey eyes, and stared at the Prince with
an astonishment which had in it something extremely ludicrous. But the
impatient John regarded it in no such light.

"The Saxon porker," he said, "is either asleep or minds me not--Prick
him with your lance, De Bracy," speaking to a knight who rode near him,
the leader of a band of Free Companions, or Condottieri; that is, of
mercenaries belonging to no particular nation, but attached for the time
to any prince by whom they were paid. There was a murmur even among the
attendants of Prince John; but De Bracy, whose profession freed him from
all scruples, extended his long lance over the space which separated
the gallery from the lists, and would have executed the commands of
the Prince before Athelstane the Unready had recovered presence of mind
sufficient even to draw back his person from the weapon, had not Cedric,
as prompt as his companion was tardy, unsheathed, with the speed of
lightning, the short sword which he wore, and at a single blow severed
the point of the lance from the handle. The blood rushed into the
countenance of Prince John. He swore one of his deepest oaths, and
was about to utter some threat corresponding in violence, when he was
diverted from his purpose, partly by his own attendants, who gathered
around him conjuring him to be patient, partly by a general exclamation
of the crowd, uttered in loud applause of the spirited conduct of
Cedric. The Prince rolled his eyes in indignation, as if to collect some
safe and easy victim; and chancing to encounter the firm glance of the
same archer whom we have already noticed, and who seemed to persist
in his gesture of applause, in spite of the frowning aspect which the
Prince bent upon him, he demanded his reason for clamouring thus.

"I always add my hollo," said the yeoman, "when I see a good shot, or a
gallant blow."

"Sayst thou?" answered the Prince; "then thou canst hit the white
thyself, I'll warrant."

"A woodsman's mark, and at woodsman's distance, I can hit," answered the
yeoman.

"And Wat Tyrrel's mark, at a hundred yards," said a voice from behind,
but by whom uttered could not be discerned.

This allusion to the fate of William Rufus, his Relative, at once
incensed and alarmed Prince John. He satisfied himself, however, with
commanding the men-at-arms, who surrounded the lists, to keep an eye on
the braggart, pointing to the yeoman.

"By St Grizzel," he added, "we will try his own skill, who is so ready
to give his voice to the feats of others!"

"I shall not fly the trial," said the yeoman, with the composure which
marked his whole deportment.

"Meanwhile, stand up, ye Saxon churls," said the fiery Prince; "for, by
the light of Heaven, since I have said it, the Jew shall have his seat
amongst ye!"

"By no means, an it please your Grace!--it is not fit for such as we
to sit with the rulers of the land," said the Jew; whose ambition for
precedence though it had led him to dispute Place with the extenuated
and impoverished descendant of the line of Montdidier, by no means
stimulated him to an intrusion upon the privileges of the wealthy
Saxons.

"Up, infidel dog when I command you," said Prince John, "or I will have
thy swarthy hide stript off, and tanned for horse-furniture."

Thus urged, the Jew began to ascend the steep and narrow steps which led
up to the gallery.

"Let me see," said the Prince, "who dare stop him," fixing his eye on
Cedric, whose attitude intimated his intention to hurl the Jew down
headlong.

The catastrophe was prevented by the clown Wamba, who, springing
betwixt his master and Isaac, and exclaiming, in answer to the Prince's
defiance, "Marry, that will I!" opposed to the beard of the Jew a shield
of brawn, which he plucked from beneath his cloak, and with which,
doubtless, he had furnished himself, lest the tournament should have
proved longer than his appetite could endure abstinence. Finding the
abomination of his tribe opposed to his very nose, while the Jester,
at the same time, flourished his wooden sword above his head, the Jew
recoiled, missed his footing, and rolled down the steps,--an excellent
jest to the spectators, who set up a loud laughter, in which Prince John
and his attendants heartily joined.

"Deal me the prize, cousin Prince," said Wamba; "I have vanquished my
foe in fair fight with sword and shield," he added, brandishing the
brawn in one hand and the wooden sword in the other.

"Who, and what art thou, noble champion?" said Prince John, still
laughing.

"A fool by right of descent," answered the Jester; "I am Wamba, the
son of Witless, who was the son of Weatherbrain, who was the son of an
Alderman."

"Make room for the Jew in front of the lower ring," said Prince John,
not unwilling perhaps to, seize an apology to desist from his original
purpose; "to place the vanquished beside the victor were false
heraldry."

"Knave upon fool were worse," answered the Jester, "and Jew upon bacon
worst of all."

"Gramercy! good fellow," cried Prince John, "thou pleasest me--Here,
Isaac, lend me a handful of byzants."

As the Jew, stunned by the request, afraid to refuse, and unwilling
to comply, fumbled in the furred bag which hung by his girdle, and
was perhaps endeavouring to ascertain how few coins might pass for a
handful, the Prince stooped from his jennet and settled Isaac's doubts
by snatching the pouch itself from his side; and flinging to Wamba a
couple of the gold pieces which it contained, he pursued his career
round the lists, leaving the Jew to the derision of those around him,
and himself receiving as much applause from the spectators as if he had
done some honest and honourable action.




CHAPTER VIII

     At this the challenger with fierce defy
     His trumpet sounds; the challenged makes reply:
     With clangour rings the field, resounds the vaulted sky.
     Their visors closed, their lances in the rest,
     Or at the helmet pointed or the crest,
     They vanish from the barrier, speed the race,
     And spurring see decrease the middle space.
     Palamon and Arcite

In the midst of Prince John's cavalcade, he suddenly stopt, and
appealing to the Prior of Jorvaulx, declared the principal business of
the day had been forgotten.

"By my halidom," said he, "we have forgotten, Sir Prior, to name the
fair Sovereign of Love and of Beauty, by whose white hand the palm is to
be distributed. For my part, I am liberal in my ideas, and I care not if
I give my vote for the black-eyed Rebecca."

"Holy Virgin," answered the Prior, turning up his eyes in horror, "a
Jewess!--We should deserve to be stoned out of the lists; and I am not
yet old enough to be a martyr. Besides, I swear by my patron saint, that
she is far inferior to the lovely Saxon, Rowena."

"Saxon or Jew," answered the Prince, "Saxon or Jew, dog or hog, what
matters it? I say, name Rebecca, were it only to mortify the Saxon
churls."

A murmur arose even among his own immediate attendants.

"This passes a jest, my lord," said De Bracy; "no knight here will lay
lance in rest if such an insult is attempted."

"It is the mere wantonness of insult," said one of the oldest and most
important of Prince John's followers, Waldemar Fitzurse, "and if your
Grace attempt it, cannot but prove ruinous to your projects."

"I entertained you, sir," said John, reining up his palfrey haughtily,
"for my follower, but not for my counsellor."

"Those who follow your Grace in the paths which you tread," said
Waldemar, but speaking in a low voice, "acquire the right of
counsellors; for your interest and safety are not more deeply gaged than
their own."

From the tone in which this was spoken, John saw the necessity of
acquiescence "I did but jest," he said; "and you turn upon me like
so many adders! Name whom you will, in the fiend's name, and please
yourselves."

"Nay, nay," said De Bracy, "let the fair sovereign's throne remain
unoccupied, until the conqueror shall be named, and then let him choose
the lady by whom it shall be filled. It will add another grace to his
triumph, and teach fair ladies to prize the love of valiant knights, who
can exalt them to such distinction."

"If Brian de Bois-Guilbert gain the prize," said the Prior, "I will gage
my rosary that I name the Sovereign of Love and Beauty."

"Bois-Guilbert," answered De Bracy, "is a good lance; but there are
others around these lists, Sir Prior, who will not fear to encounter
him."

"Silence, sirs," said Waldemar, "and let the Prince assume his seat.
The knights and spectators are alike impatient, the time advances, and
highly fit it is that the sports should commence."

Prince John, though not yet a monarch, had in Waldemar Fitzurse all the
inconveniences of a favourite minister, who, in serving his sovereign,
must always do so in his own way. The Prince acquiesced, however,
although his disposition was precisely of that kind which is apt to be
obstinate upon trifles, and, assuming his throne, and being surrounded
by his followers, gave signal to the heralds to proclaim the laws of the
tournament, which were briefly as follows:

First, the five challengers were to undertake all comers.

Secondly, any knight proposing to combat, might, if he pleased, select
a special antagonist from among the challengers, by touching his shield.
If he did so with the reverse of his lance, the trial of skill was made
with what were called the arms of courtesy, that is, with lances at
whose extremity a piece of round flat board was fixed, so that no danger
was encountered, save from the shock of the horses and riders. But if
the shield was touched with the sharp end of the lance, the combat was
understood to be at "outrance", that is, the knights were to fight with
sharp weapons, as in actual battle.

Thirdly, when the knights present had accomplished their vow, by each of
them breaking five lances, the Prince was to declare the victor in the
first day's tourney, who should receive as prize a warhorse of exquisite
beauty and matchless strength; and in addition to this reward of valour,
it was now declared, he should have the peculiar honour of naming the
Queen of Love and Beauty, by whom the prize should be given on the
ensuing day.

Fourthly, it was announced, that, on the second day, there should be a
general tournament, in which all the knights present, who were desirous
to win praise, might take part; and being divided into two bands of
equal numbers, might fight it out manfully, until the signal was given
by Prince John to cease the combat. The elected Queen of Love and Beauty
was then to crown the knight whom the Prince should adjudge to have
borne himself best in this second day, with a coronet composed of thin
gold plate, cut into the shape of a laurel crown. On this second day
the knightly games ceased. But on that which was to follow, feats of
archery, of bull-baiting, and other popular amusements, were to be
practised, for the more immediate amusement of the populace. In this
manner did Prince John endeavour to lay the foundation of a popularity,
which he was perpetually throwing down by some inconsiderate act of
wanton aggression upon the feelings and prejudices of the people.

The lists now presented a most splendid spectacle. The sloping galleries
were crowded with all that was noble, great, wealthy, and beautiful
in the northern and midland parts of England; and the contrast of the
various dresses of these dignified spectators, rendered the view as
gay as it was rich, while the interior and lower space, filled with the
substantial burgesses and yeomen of merry England, formed, in their more
plain attire, a dark fringe, or border, around this circle of brilliant
embroidery, relieving, and, at the same time, setting off its splendour.

The heralds finished their proclamation with their usual cry of
"Largesse, largesse, gallant knights!" and gold and silver pieces were
showered on them from the galleries, it being a high point of chivalry
to exhibit liberality towards those whom the age accounted at once the
secretaries and the historians of honour. The bounty of the spectators
was acknowledged by the customary shouts of "Love of Ladies--Death of
Champions--Honour to the Generous--Glory to the Brave!" To which the
more humble spectators added their acclamations, and a numerous band of
trumpeters the flourish of their martial instruments. When these sounds
had ceased, the heralds withdrew from the lists in gay and glittering
procession, and none remained within them save the marshals of the
field, who, armed cap-a-pie, sat on horseback, motionless as statues,
at the opposite ends of the lists. Meantime, the enclosed space at the
northern extremity of the lists, large as it was, was now completely
crowded with knights desirous to prove their skill against the
challengers, and, when viewed from the galleries, presented the
appearance of a sea of waving plumage, intermixed with glistening
helmets, and tall lances, to the extremities of which were, in many
cases, attached small pennons of about a span's breadth, which,
fluttering in the air as the breeze caught them, joined with the
restless motion of the feathers to add liveliness to the scene.

At length the barriers were opened, and five knights, chosen by lot,
advanced slowly into the area; a single champion riding in front, and
the other four following in pairs. All were splendidly armed, and my
Saxon authority (in the Wardour Manuscript) records at great length
their devices, their colours, and the embroidery of their horse
trappings. It is unnecessary to be particular on these subjects. To
borrow lines from a contemporary poet, who has written but too little:

     "The knights are dust,
     And their good swords are rust,
     Their souls are with the saints, we trust." [17]

Their escutcheons have long mouldered from the walls of their castles.
Their castles themselves are but green mounds and shattered ruins--the
place that once knew them, knows them no more--nay, many a race since
theirs has died out and been forgotten in the very land which they
occupied, with all the authority of feudal proprietors and feudal
lords. What, then, would it avail the reader to know their names, or the
evanescent symbols of their martial rank!

Now, however, no whit anticipating the oblivion which awaited their
names and feats, the champions advanced through the lists, restraining
their fiery steeds, and compelling them to move slowly, while, at the
same time, they exhibited their paces, together with the grace and
dexterity of the riders. As the procession entered the lists, the
sound of a wild Barbaric music was heard from behind the tents of the
challengers, where the performers were concealed. It was of Eastern
origin, having been brought from the Holy Land; and the mixture of the
cymbals and bells seemed to bid welcome at once, and defiance, to the
knights as they advanced. With the eyes of an immense concourse of
spectators fixed upon them, the five knights advanced up the platform
upon which the tents of the challengers stood, and there separating
themselves, each touched slightly, and with the reverse of his lance,
the shield of the antagonist to whom he wished to oppose himself. The
lower orders of spectators in general--nay, many of the higher class,
and it is even said several of the ladies, were rather disappointed
at the champions choosing the arms of courtesy. For the same sort
of persons, who, in the present day, applaud most highly the deepest
tragedies, were then interested in a tournament exactly in proportion to
the danger incurred by the champions engaged.

Having intimated their more pacific purpose, the champions retreated
to the extremity of the lists, where they remained drawn up in a line;
while the challengers, sallying each from his pavilion, mounted their
horses, and, headed by Brian de Bois-Guilbert, descended from the
platform, and opposed themselves individually to the knights who had
touched their respective shields.

At the flourish of clarions and trumpets, they started out against
each other at full gallop; and such was the superior dexterity or
good fortune of the challengers, that those opposed to Bois-Guilbert,
Malvoisin, and Front-de-Boeuf, rolled on the ground. The antagonist of
Grantmesnil, instead of bearing his lance-point fair against the crest
or the shield of his enemy, swerved so much from the direct line as
to break the weapon athwart the person of his opponent--a circumstance
which was accounted more disgraceful than that of being actually
unhorsed; because the latter might happen from accident, whereas the
former evinced awkwardness and want of management of the weapon and of
the horse. The fifth knight alone maintained the honour of his party,
and parted fairly with the Knight of St John, both splintering their
lances without advantage on either side.

The shouts of the multitude, together with the acclamations of the
heralds, and the clangour of the trumpets, announced the triumph of the
victors and the defeat of the vanquished. The former retreated to
their pavilions, and the latter, gathering themselves up as they could,
withdrew from the lists in disgrace and dejection, to agree with their
victors concerning the redemption of their arms and their horses, which,
according to the laws of the tournament, they had forfeited. The fifth
of their number alone tarried in the lists long enough to be greeted
by the applauses of the spectators, amongst whom he retreated, to the
aggravation, doubtless, of his companions' mortification.

A second and a third party of knights took the field; and although
they had various success, yet, upon the whole, the advantage decidedly
remained with the challengers, not one of whom lost his seat or
swerved from his charge--misfortunes which befell one or two of their
antagonists in each encounter. The spirits, therefore, of those opposed
to them, seemed to be considerably damped by their continued success.
Three knights only appeared on the fourth entry, who, avoiding the
shields of Bois-Guilbert and Front-de-Boeuf, contented themselves
with touching those of the three other knights, who had not altogether
manifested the same strength and dexterity. This politic selection
did not alter the fortune of the field, the challengers were still
successful: one of their antagonists was overthrown, and both the others
failed in the "attaint", [18] that is, in striking the helmet and shield
of their antagonist firmly and strongly, with the lance held in a direct
line, so that the weapon might break unless the champion was overthrown.

After this fourth encounter, there was a considerable pause; nor did
it appear that any one was very desirous of renewing the contest.
The spectators murmured among themselves; for, among the challengers,
Malvoisin and Front-de-Boeuf were unpopular from their characters,
and the others, except Grantmesnil, were disliked as strangers and
foreigners.

But none shared the general feeling of dissatisfaction so keenly as
Cedric the Saxon, who saw, in each advantage gained by the Norman
challengers, a repeated triumph over the honour of England. His own
education had taught him no skill in the games of chivalry, although,
with the arms of his Saxon ancestors, he had manifested himself, on
many occasions, a brave and determined soldier. He looked anxiously
to Athelstane, who had learned the accomplishments of the age, as if
desiring that he should make some personal effort to recover the victory
which was passing into the hands of the Templar and his associates.
But, though both stout of heart, and strong of person, Athelstane had a
disposition too inert and unambitious to make the exertions which Cedric
seemed to expect from him.

"The day is against England, my lord," said Cedric, in a marked tone;
"are you not tempted to take the lance?"

"I shall tilt to-morrow" answered Athelstane, "in the 'melee'; it is not
worth while for me to arm myself to-day."

Two things displeased Cedric in this speech. It contained the Norman
word "melee", (to express the general conflict,) and it evinced
some indifference to the honour of the country; but it was spoken by
Athelstane, whom he held in such profound respect, that he would not
trust himself to canvass his motives or his foibles. Moreover, he had
no time to make any remark, for Wamba thrust in his word, observing, "It
was better, though scarce easier, to be the best man among a hundred,
than the best man of two."

Athelstane took the observation as a serious compliment; but Cedric,
who better understood the Jester's meaning, darted at him a severe and
menacing look; and lucky it was for Wamba, perhaps, that the time and
place prevented his receiving, notwithstanding his place and service,
more sensible marks of his master's resentment.

The pause in the tournament was still uninterrupted, excepting by
the voices of the heralds exclaiming--"Love of ladies, splintering of
lances! stand forth gallant knights, fair eyes look upon your deeds!"