The music also of the challengers breathed from time to time wild bursts
expressive of triumph or defiance, while the clowns grudged a holiday
which seemed to pass away in inactivity; and old knights and nobles
lamented in whispers the decay of martial spirit, spoke of the triumphs
of their younger days, but agreed that the land did not now supply dames
of such transcendent beauty as had animated the jousts of former times.
Prince John began to talk to his attendants about making ready
the banquet, and the necessity of adjudging the prize to Brian de
Bois-Guilbert, who had, with a single spear, overthrown two knights, and
foiled a third.

At length, as the Saracenic music of the challengers concluded one of
those long and high flourishes with which they had broken the silence of
the lists, it was answered by a solitary trumpet, which breathed a note
of defiance from the northern extremity. All eyes were turned to see
the new champion which these sounds announced, and no sooner were the
barriers opened than he paced into the lists. As far as could be judged
of a man sheathed in armour, the new adventurer did not greatly exceed
the middle size, and seemed to be rather slender than strongly made.
His suit of armour was formed of steel, richly inlaid with gold, and the
device on his shield was a young oak-tree pulled up by the roots, with
the Spanish word Desdichado, signifying Disinherited. He was mounted on
a gallant black horse, and as he passed through the lists he gracefully
saluted the Prince and the ladies by lowering his lance. The dexterity
with which he managed his steed, and something of youthful grace which
he displayed in his manner, won him the favour of the multitude, which
some of the lower classes expressed by calling out, "Touch Ralph de
Vipont's shield--touch the Hospitallers shield; he has the least sure
seat, he is your cheapest bargain."

The champion, moving onward amid these well-meant hints, ascended the
platform by the sloping alley which led to it from the lists, and,
to the astonishment of all present, riding straight up to the central
pavilion, struck with the sharp end of his spear the shield of Brian
de Bois-Guilbert until it rung again. All stood astonished at his
presumption, but none more than the redoubted Knight whom he had thus
defied to mortal combat, and who, little expecting so rude a challenge,
was standing carelessly at the door of the pavilion.

"Have you confessed yourself, brother," said the Templar, "and have you
heard mass this morning, that you peril your life so frankly?"

"I am fitter to meet death than thou art" answered the Disinherited
Knight; for by this name the stranger had recorded himself in the books
of the tourney.

"Then take your place in the lists," said Bois-Guilbert, "and look your
last upon the sun; for this night thou shalt sleep in paradise."

"Gramercy for thy courtesy," replied the Disinherited Knight, "and to
requite it, I advise thee to take a fresh horse and a new lance, for by
my honour you will need both."

Having expressed himself thus confidently, he reined his horse backward
down the slope which he had ascended, and compelled him in the same
manner to move backward through the lists, till he reached the
northern extremity, where he remained stationary, in expectation of his
antagonist. This feat of horsemanship again attracted the applause of
the multitude.

However incensed at his adversary for the precautions which he
recommended, Brian de Bois-Guilbert did not neglect his advice; for
his honour was too nearly concerned, to permit his neglecting any means
which might ensure victory over his presumptuous opponent. He changed
his horse for a proved and fresh one of great strength and spirit. He
chose a new and a tough spear, lest the wood of the former might have
been strained in the previous encounters he had sustained. Lastly,
he laid aside his shield, which had received some little damage, and
received another from his squires. His first had only borne the general
device of his rider, representing two knights riding upon one horse, an
emblem expressive of the original humility and poverty of the Templars,
qualities which they had since exchanged for the arrogance and wealth
that finally occasioned their suppression. Bois-Guilbert's new shield
bore a raven in full flight, holding in its claws a skull, and bearing
the motto, "Gare le Corbeau".

When the two champions stood opposed to each other at the two
extremities of the lists, the public expectation was strained to the
highest pitch. Few augured the possibility that the encounter could
terminate well for the Disinherited Knight, yet his courage and
gallantry secured the general good wishes of the spectators.

The trumpets had no sooner given the signal, than the champions vanished
from their posts with the speed of lightning, and closed in the centre
of the lists with the shock of a thunderbolt. The lances burst into
shivers up to the very grasp, and it seemed at the moment that both
knights had fallen, for the shock had made each horse recoil backwards
upon its haunches. The address of the riders recovered their steeds
by use of the bridle and spur; and having glared on each other for an
instant with eyes which seemed to flash fire through the bars of their
visors, each made a demi-volte, and, retiring to the extremity of the
lists, received a fresh lance from the attendants.

A loud shout from the spectators, waving of scarfs and handkerchiefs,
and general acclamations, attested the interest taken by the spectators
in this encounter; the most equal, as well as the best performed, which
had graced the day. But no sooner had the knights resumed their station,
than the clamour of applause was hushed into a silence, so deep and so
dead, that it seemed the multitude were afraid even to breathe.

A few minutes pause having been allowed, that the combatants and their
horses might recover breath, Prince John with his truncheon signed to
the trumpets to sound the onset. The champions a second time sprung from
their stations, and closed in the centre of the lists, with the same
speed, the same dexterity, the same violence, but not the same equal
fortune as before.

In this second encounter, the Templar aimed at the centre of his
antagonist's shield, and struck it so fair and forcibly, that his spear
went to shivers, and the Disinherited Knight reeled in his saddle.
On the other hand, that champion had, in the beginning of his career,
directed the point of his lance towards Bois-Guilbert's shield, but,
changing his aim almost in the moment of encounter, he addressed it
to the helmet, a mark more difficult to hit, but which, if attained,
rendered the shock more irresistible. Fair and true he hit the Norman on
the visor, where his lance's point kept hold of the bars. Yet, even at
this disadvantage, the Templar sustained his high reputation; and had
not the girths of his saddle burst, he might not have been unhorsed. As
it chanced, however, saddle, horse, and man, rolled on the ground under
a cloud of dust.

To extricate himself from the stirrups and fallen steed, was to the
Templar scarce the work of a moment; and, stung with madness, both at
his disgrace and at the acclamations with which it was hailed by the
spectators, he drew his sword and waved it in defiance of his conqueror.
The Disinherited Knight sprung from his steed, and also unsheathed his
sword. The marshals of the field, however, spurred their horses between
them, and reminded them, that the laws of the tournament did not, on the
present occasion, permit this species of encounter.

"We shall meet again, I trust," said the Templar, casting a resentful
glance at his antagonist; "and where there are none to separate us."

"If we do not," said the Disinherited Knight, "the fault shall not be
mine. On foot or horseback, with spear, with axe, or with sword, I am
alike ready to encounter thee."

More and angrier words would have been exchanged, but the marshals,
crossing their lances betwixt them, compelled them to separate. The
Disinherited Knight returned to his first station, and Bois-Guilbert
to his tent, where he remained for the rest of the day in an agony of
despair.

Without alighting from his horse, the conqueror called for a bowl of
wine, and opening the beaver, or lower part of his helmet, announced
that he quaffed it, "To all true English hearts, and to the confusion of
foreign tyrants." He then commanded his trumpet to sound a defiance
to the challengers, and desired a herald to announce to them, that he
should make no election, but was willing to encounter them in the order
in which they pleased to advance against him.

The gigantic Front-de-Boeuf, armed in sable armour, was the first who
took the field. He bore on a white shield a black bull's head, half
defaced by the numerous encounters which he had undergone, and bearing
the arrogant motto, "Cave, Adsum". Over this champion the Disinherited
Knight obtained a slight but decisive advantage. Both Knights broke
their lances fairly, but Front-de-Boeuf, who lost a stirrup in the
encounter, was adjudged to have the disadvantage.

In the stranger's third encounter with Sir Philip Malvoisin, he was
equally successful; striking that baron so forcibly on the casque, that
the laces of the helmet broke, and Malvoisin, only saved from falling by
being unhelmeted, was declared vanquished like his companions.

In his fourth combat with De Grantmesnil, the Disinherited Knight showed
as much courtesy as he had hitherto evinced courage and dexterity. De
Grantmesnil's horse, which was young and violent, reared and plunged
in the course of the career so as to disturb the rider's aim, and the
stranger, declining to take the advantage which this accident afforded
him, raised his lance, and passing his antagonist without touching
him, wheeled his horse and rode back again to his own end of the lists,
offering his antagonist, by a herald, the chance of a second encounter.
This De Grantmesnil declined, avowing himself vanquished as much by the
courtesy as by the address of his opponent.

Ralph de Vipont summed up the list of the stranger's triumphs, being
hurled to the ground with such force, that the blood gushed from his
nose and his mouth, and he was borne senseless from the lists.

The acclamations of thousands applauded the unanimous award of the
Prince and marshals, announcing that day's honours to the Disinherited
Knight.




CHAPTER IX

     ----In the midst was seen
     A lady of a more majestic mien,
     By stature and by beauty mark'd their sovereign Queen.
     * * * * *
     And as in beauty she surpass'd the choir,
     So nobler than the rest was her attire;
     A crown of ruddy gold enclosed her brow,
     Plain without pomp, and rich without a show;
     A branch of Agnus Castus in her hand,
     She bore aloft her symbol of command.
     The Flower and the Leaf

William de Wyvil and Stephen de Martival, the marshals of the field,
were the first to offer their congratulations to the victor, praying
him, at the same time, to suffer his helmet to be unlaced, or, at least,
that he would raise his visor ere they conducted him to receive
the prize of the day's tourney from the hands of Prince John. The
Disinherited Knight, with all knightly courtesy, declined their request,
alleging, that he could not at this time suffer his face to be seen, for
reasons which he had assigned to the heralds when he entered the lists.
The marshals were perfectly satisfied by this reply; for amidst the
frequent and capricious vows by which knights were accustomed to bind
themselves in the days of chivalry, there were none more common than
those by which they engaged to remain incognito for a certain space, or
until some particular adventure was achieved. The marshals, therefore,
pressed no farther into the mystery of the Disinherited Knight, but,
announcing to Prince John the conqueror's desire to remain unknown, they
requested permission to bring him before his Grace, in order that he
might receive the reward of his valour.

John's curiosity was excited by the mystery observed by the stranger;
and, being already displeased with the issue of the tournament, in which
the challengers whom he favoured had been successively defeated by one
knight, he answered haughtily to the marshals, "By the light of Our
Lady's brow, this same knight hath been disinherited as well of his
courtesy as of his lands, since he desires to appear before us without
uncovering his face.--Wot ye, my lords," he said, turning round to his
train, "who this gallant can be, that bears himself thus proudly?"

"I cannot guess," answered De Bracy, "nor did I think there had been
within the four seas that girth Britain a champion that could bear down
these five knights in one day's jousting. By my faith, I shall never
forget the force with which he shocked De Vipont. The poor Hospitaller
was hurled from his saddle like a stone from a sling."

"Boast not of that," said a Knight of St John, who was present;
"your Temple champion had no better luck. I saw your brave lance,
Bois-Guilbert, roll thrice over, grasping his hands full of sand at
every turn."

De Bracy, being attached to the Templars, would have replied, but was
prevented by Prince John. "Silence, sirs!" he said; "what unprofitable
debate have we here?"

"The victor," said De Wyvil, "still waits the pleasure of your
highness."

"It is our pleasure," answered John, "that he do so wait until we learn
whether there is not some one who can at least guess at his name and
quality. Should he remain there till night-fall, he has had work enough
to keep him warm."

"Your Grace," said Waldemar Fitzurse, "will do less than due honour to
the victor, if you compel him to wait till we tell your highness that
which we cannot know; at least I can form no guess--unless he be one of
the good lances who accompanied King Richard to Palestine, and who are
now straggling homeward from the Holy Land."

"It may be the Earl of Salisbury," said De Bracy; "he is about the same
pitch."

"Sir Thomas de Multon, the Knight of Gilsland, rather," said Fitzurse;
"Salisbury is bigger in the bones." A whisper arose among the train,
but by whom first suggested could not be ascertained. "It might be the
King--it might be Richard Coeur-de-Lion himself!"

"Over God's forbode!" said Prince John, involuntarily turning at the
same time as pale as death, and shrinking as if blighted by a flash of
lightning; "Waldemar!--De Bracy! brave knights and gentlemen, remember
your promises, and stand truly by me!"

"Here is no danger impending," said Waldemar Fitzurse; "are you so
little acquainted with the gigantic limbs of your father's son, as
to think they can be held within the circumference of yonder suit
of armour?--De Wyvil and Martival, you will best serve the Prince by
bringing forward the victor to the throne, and ending an error that has
conjured all the blood from his cheeks.--Look at him more closely," he
continued, "your highness will see that he wants three inches of King
Richard's height, and twice as much of his shoulder-breadth. The very
horse he backs, could not have carried the ponderous weight of King
Richard through a single course."

While he was yet speaking, the marshals brought forward the Disinherited
Knight to the foot of a wooden flight of steps, which formed the ascent
from the lists to Prince John's throne. Still discomposed with the idea
that his brother, so much injured, and to whom he was so much indebted,
had suddenly arrived in his native kingdom, even the distinctions
pointed out by Fitzurse did not altogether remove the Prince's
apprehensions; and while, with a short and embarrassed eulogy upon his
valour, he caused to be delivered to him the war-horse assigned as the
prize, he trembled lest from the barred visor of the mailed form before
him, an answer might be returned, in the deep and awful accents of
Richard the Lion-hearted.

But the Disinherited Knight spoke not a word in reply to the compliment
of the Prince, which he only acknowledged with a profound obeisance.

The horse was led into the lists by two grooms richly dressed, the
animal itself being fully accoutred with the richest war-furniture;
which, however, scarcely added to the value of the noble creature in the
eyes of those who were judges. Laying one hand upon the pommel of the
saddle, the Disinherited Knight vaulted at once upon the back of the
steed without making use of the stirrup, and, brandishing aloft his
lance, rode twice around the lists, exhibiting the points and paces of
the horse with the skill of a perfect horseman.

The appearance of vanity, which might otherwise have been attributed to
this display, was removed by the propriety shown in exhibiting to the
best advantage the princely reward with which he had been just honoured,
and the Knight was again greeted by the acclamations of all present.

In the meanwhile, the bustling Prior of Jorvaulx had reminded Prince
John, in a whisper, that the victor must now display his good judgment,
instead of his valour, by selecting from among the beauties who graced
the galleries a lady, who should fill the throne of the Queen of Beauty
and of Love, and deliver the prize of the tourney upon the ensuing day.
The Prince accordingly made a sign with his truncheon, as the Knight
passed him in his second career around the lists. The Knight turned
towards the throne, and, sinking his lance, until the point was within
a foot of the ground, remained motionless, as if expecting John's
commands; while all admired the sudden dexterity with which he instantly
reduced his fiery steed from a state of violent emotion and high
excitation to the stillness of an equestrian statue.

"Sir Disinherited Knight," said Prince John, "since that is the only
title by which we can address you, it is now your duty, as well as
privilege, to name the fair lady, who, as Queen of Honour and of Love,
is to preside over next day's festival. If, as a stranger in our land,
you should require the aid of other judgment to guide your own, we
can only say that Alicia, the daughter of our gallant knight Waldemar
Fitzurse, has at our court been long held the first in beauty as in
place. Nevertheless, it is your undoubted prerogative to confer on whom
you please this crown, by the delivery of which to the lady of
your choice, the election of to-morrow's Queen will be formal and
complete.--Raise your lance."

The Knight obeyed; and Prince John placed upon its point a coronet of
green satin, having around its edge a circlet of gold, the upper edge
of which was relieved by arrow-points and hearts placed interchangeably,
like the strawberry leaves and balls upon a ducal crown.

In the broad hint which he dropped respecting the daughter of Waldemar
Fitzurse, John had more than one motive, each the offspring of a mind,
which was a strange mixture of carelessness and presumption with low
artifice and cunning. He wished to banish from the minds of the chivalry
around him his own indecent and unacceptable jest respecting the Jewess
Rebecca; he was desirous of conciliating Alicia's father Waldemar,
of whom he stood in awe, and who had more than once shown himself
dissatisfied during the course of the day's proceedings. He had also a
wish to establish himself in the good graces of the lady; for John was
at least as licentious in his pleasures as profligate in his ambition.
But besides all these reasons, he was desirous to raise up against
the Disinherited Knight (towards whom he already entertained a strong
dislike) a powerful enemy in the person of Waldemar Fitzurse, who was
likely, he thought, highly to resent the injury done to his daughter, in
case, as was not unlikely, the victor should make another choice.

And so indeed it proved. For the Disinherited Knight passed the gallery
close to that of the Prince, in which the Lady Alicia was seated in the
full pride of triumphant beauty, and, pacing forwards as slowly as he
had hitherto rode swiftly around the lists, he seemed to exercise his
right of examining the numerous fair faces which adorned that splendid
circle.

It was worth while to see the different conduct of the beauties who
underwent this examination, during the time it was proceeding. Some
blushed, some assumed an air of pride and dignity, some looked straight
forward, and essayed to seem utterly unconscious of what was going on,
some drew back in alarm, which was perhaps affected, some endeavoured to
forbear smiling, and there were two or three who laughed outright. There
were also some who dropped their veils over their charms; but, as the
Wardour Manuscript says these were fair ones of ten years standing, it
may be supposed that, having had their full share of such vanities, they
were willing to withdraw their claim, in order to give a fair chance to
the rising beauties of the age.

At length the champion paused beneath the balcony in which the Lady
Rowena was placed, and the expectation of the spectators was excited to
the utmost.

It must be owned, that if an interest displayed in his success could
have bribed the Disinherited Knight, the part of the lists before which
he paused had merited his predilection. Cedric the Saxon, overjoyed at
the discomfiture of the Templar, and still more so at the miscarriage of
his two malevolent neighbours, Front-de-Boeuf and Malvoisin, had, with
his body half stretched over the balcony, accompanied the victor in each
course, not with his eyes only, but with his whole heart and soul. The
Lady Rowena had watched the progress of the day with equal attention,
though without openly betraying the same intense interest. Even the
unmoved Athelstane had shown symptoms of shaking off his apathy, when,
calling for a huge goblet of muscadine, he quaffed it to the health
of the Disinherited Knight. Another group, stationed under the gallery
occupied by the Saxons, had shown no less interest in the fate of the
day.

"Father Abraham!" said Isaac of York, when the first course was run
betwixt the Templar and the Disinherited Knight, "how fiercely that
Gentile rides! Ah, the good horse that was brought all the long way
from Barbary, he takes no more care of him than if he were a wild ass's
colt--and the noble armour, that was worth so many zecchins to Joseph
Pareira, the armourer of Milan, besides seventy in the hundred of
profits, he cares for it as little as if he had found it in the
highways!"

"If he risks his own person and limbs, father," said Rebecca, "in doing
such a dreadful battle, he can scarce be expected to spare his horse and
armour."

"Child!" replied Isaac, somewhat heated, "thou knowest not what thou
speakest--His neck and limbs are his own, but his horse and armour
belong to--Holy Jacob! what was I about to say!--Nevertheless, it is
a good youth--See, Rebecca! see, he is again about to go up to battle
against the Philistine--Pray, child--pray for the safety of the good
youth,--and of the speedy horse, and the rich armour.--God of my
fathers!" he again exclaimed, "he hath conquered, and the uncircumcised
Philistine hath fallen before his lance,--even as Og the King of
Bashan, and Sihon, King of the Amorites, fell before the sword of our
fathers!--Surely he shall take their gold and their silver, and their
war-horses, and their armour of brass and of steel, for a prey and for a
spoil."

The same anxiety did the worthy Jew display during every course that was
run, seldom failing to hazard a hasty calculation concerning the value
of the horse and armour which was forfeited to the champion upon each
new success. There had been therefore no small interest taken in the
success of the Disinherited Knight, by those who occupied the part of
the lists before which he now paused.

Whether from indecision, or some other motive of hesitation, the
champion of the day remained stationary for more than a minute, while
the eyes of the silent audience were riveted upon his motions; and then,
gradually and gracefully sinking the point of his lance, he deposited
the coronet which it supported at the feet of the fair Rowena. The
trumpets instantly sounded, while the heralds proclaimed the Lady Rowena
the Queen of Beauty and of Love for the ensuing day, menacing with
suitable penalties those who should be disobedient to her authority.
They then repeated their cry of Largesse, to which Cedric, in the height
of his joy, replied by an ample donative, and to which Athelstane,
though less promptly, added one equally large.

There was some murmuring among the damsels of Norman descent, who were
as much unused to see the preference given to a Saxon beauty, as the
Norman nobles were to sustain defeat in the games of chivalry which they
themselves had introduced. But these sounds of disaffection were drowned
by the popular shout of "Long live the Lady Rowena, the chosen and
lawful Queen of Love and of Beauty!" To which many in the lower area
added, "Long live the Saxon Princess! long live the race of the immortal
Alfred!"

However unacceptable these sounds might be to Prince John, and to
those around him, he saw himself nevertheless obliged to confirm the
nomination of the victor, and accordingly calling to horse, he left
his throne; and mounting his jennet, accompanied by his train, he again
entered the lists. The Prince paused a moment beneath the gallery of
the Lady Alicia, to whom he paid his compliments, observing, at the same
time, to those around him--"By my halidome, sirs! if the Knight's feats
in arms have shown that he hath limbs and sinews, his choice hath no
less proved that his eyes are none of the clearest."

It was on this occasion, as during his whole life, John's misfortune,
not perfectly to understand the characters of those whom he wished to
conciliate. Waldemar Fitzurse was rather offended than pleased at the
Prince stating thus broadly an opinion, that his daughter had been
slighted.

"I know no right of chivalry," he said, "more precious or inalienable
than that of each free knight to choose his lady-love by his own
judgment. My daughter courts distinction from no one; and in her own
character, and in her own sphere, will never fail to receive the full
proportion of that which is her due."

Prince John replied not; but, spurring his horse, as if to give vent
to his vexation, he made the animal bound forward to the gallery where
Rowena was seated, with the crown still at her feet.

"Assume," he said, "fair lady, the mark of your sovereignty, to which
none vows homage more sincerely than ourself, John of Anjou; and if
it please you to-day, with your noble sire and friends, to grace our
banquet in the Castle of Ashby, we shall learn to know the empress to
whose service we devote to-morrow."

Rowena remained silent, and Cedric answered for her in his native Saxon.

"The Lady Rowena," he said, "possesses not the language in which to
reply to your courtesy, or to sustain her part in your festival. I also,
and the noble Athelstane of Coningsburgh, speak only the language, and
practise only the manners, of our fathers. We therefore decline with
thanks your Highness's courteous invitation to the banquet. To-morrow,
the Lady Rowena will take upon her the state to which she has been
called by the free election of the victor Knight, confirmed by the
acclamations of the people."

So saying, he lifted the coronet, and placed it upon Rowena's head, in
token of her acceptance of the temporary authority assigned to her.

"What says he?" said Prince John, affecting not to understand the
Saxon language, in which, however, he was well skilled. The purport of
Cedric's speech was repeated to him in French. "It is well," he said;
"to-morrow we will ourself conduct this mute sovereign to her seat of
dignity.--You, at least, Sir Knight," he added, turning to the victor,
who had remained near the gallery, "will this day share our banquet?"

The Knight, speaking for the first time, in a low and hurried voice,
excused himself by pleading fatigue, and the necessity of preparing for
to-morrow's encounter.

"It is well," said Prince John, haughtily; "although unused to such
refusals, we will endeavour to digest our banquet as we may, though
ungraced by the most successful in arms, and his elected Queen of
Beauty."

So saying, he prepared to leave the lists with his glittering train, and
his turning his steed for that purpose, was the signal for the breaking
up and dispersion of the spectators.

Yet, with the vindictive memory proper to offended pride, especially
when combined with conscious want of desert, John had hardly proceeded
three paces, ere again, turning around, he fixed an eye of stern
resentment upon the yeoman who had displeased him in the early part of
the day, and issued his commands to the men-at-arms who stood near--"On
your life, suffer not that fellow to escape."

The yeoman stood the angry glance of the Prince with the same unvaried
steadiness which had marked his former deportment, saying, with a smile,
"I have no intention to leave Ashby until the day after to-morrow--I
must see how Staffordshire and Leicestershire can draw their bows--the
forests of Needwood and Charnwood must rear good archers."

"I," said Prince John to his attendants, but not in direct reply,--"I
will see how he can draw his own; and woe betide him unless his skill
should prove some apology for his insolence!"

"It is full time," said De Bracy, "that the 'outrecuidance' [19] of
these peasants should be restrained by some striking example."

Waldemar Fitzurse, who probably thought his patron was not taking the
readiest road to popularity, shrugged up his shoulders and was silent.
Prince John resumed his retreat from the lists, and the dispersion of
the multitude became general.

In various routes, according to the different quarters from which
they came, and in groups of various numbers, the spectators were seen
retiring over the plain. By far the most numerous part streamed towards
the town of Ashby, where many of the distinguished persons were lodged
in the castle, and where others found accommodation in the town itself.
Among these were most of the knights who had already appeared in the
tournament, or who proposed to fight there the ensuing day, and who, as
they rode slowly along, talking over the events of the day, were greeted
with loud shouts by the populace. The same acclamations were bestowed
upon Prince John, although he was indebted for them rather to the
splendour of his appearance and train, than to the popularity of his
character.

A more sincere and more general, as well as a better-merited
acclamation, attended the victor of the day, until, anxious to withdraw
himself from popular notice, he accepted the accommodation of one of
those pavilions pitched at the extremities of the lists, the use of
which was courteously tendered him by the marshals of the field. On his
retiring to his tent, many who had lingered in the lists, to look upon
and form conjectures concerning him, also dispersed.

The signs and sounds of a tumultuous concourse of men lately crowded
together in one place, and agitated by the same passing events, were now
exchanged for the distant hum of voices of different groups retreating
in all directions, and these speedily died away in silence. No other
sounds were heard save the voices of the menials who stripped the
galleries of their cushions and tapestry, in order to put them in safety
for the night, and wrangled among themselves for the half-used bottles
of wine and relics of the refreshment which had been served round to the
spectators.

Beyond the precincts of the lists more than one forge was erected; and
these now began to glimmer through the twilight, announcing the toil of
the armourers, which was to continue through the whole night, in order
to repair or alter the suits of armour to be used again on the morrow.

A strong guard of men-at-arms, renewed at intervals, from two hours to
two hours, surrounded the lists, and kept watch during the night.




CHAPTER X

     Thus, like the sad presaging raven, that tolls
     The sick man's passport in her hollow beak,
     And in the shadow of the silent night
     Doth shake contagion from her sable wings;
     Vex'd and tormented, runs poor Barrabas,
     With fatal curses towards these Christians.
     --Jew of Malta

The Disinherited Knight had no sooner reached his pavilion, than squires
and pages in abundance tendered their services to disarm him, to bring
fresh attire, and to offer him the refreshment of the bath. Their zeal
on this occasion was perhaps sharpened by curiosity, since every one
desired to know who the knight was that had gained so many laurels, yet
had refused, even at the command of Prince John, to lift his visor or
to name his name. But their officious inquisitiveness was not gratified.
The Disinherited Knight refused all other assistance save that of his
own squire, or rather yeoman--a clownish-looking man, who, wrapt in a
cloak of dark-coloured felt, and having his head and face half-buried
in a Norman bonnet made of black fur, seemed to affect the incognito
as much as his master. All others being excluded from the tent, this
attendant relieved his master from the more burdensome parts of his
armour, and placed food and wine before him, which the exertions of the
day rendered very acceptable.

The Knight had scarcely finished a hasty meal, ere his menial announced
to him that five men, each leading a barbed steed, desired to speak with
him. The Disinherited Knight had exchanged his armour for the long robe
usually worn by those of his condition, which, being furnished with a
hood, concealed the features, when such was the pleasure of the
wearer, almost as completely as the visor of the helmet itself, but the
twilight, which was now fast darkening, would of itself have rendered
a disguise unnecessary, unless to persons to whom the face of an
individual chanced to be particularly well known.

The Disinherited Knight, therefore, stept boldly forth to the front of
his tent, and found in attendance the squires of the challengers, whom
he easily knew by their russet and black dresses, each of whom led
his master's charger, loaded with the armour in which he had that day
fought.

"According to the laws of chivalry," said the foremost of these men, "I,
Baldwin de Oyley, squire to the redoubted Knight Brian de Bois-Guilbert,
make offer to you, styling yourself, for the present, the Disinherited
Knight, of the horse and armour used by the said Brian de Bois-Guilbert
in this day's Passage of Arms, leaving it with your nobleness to retain
or to ransom the same, according to your pleasure; for such is the law
of arms."

The other squires repeated nearly the same formula, and then stood to
await the decision of the Disinherited Knight.

"To you four, sirs," replied the Knight, addressing those who had last
spoken, "and to your honourable and valiant masters, I have one common
reply. Commend me to the noble knights, your masters, and say, I should
do ill to deprive them of steeds and arms which can never be used by
braver cavaliers.--I would I could here end my message to these
gallant knights; but being, as I term myself, in truth and earnest, the
Disinherited, I must be thus far bound to your masters, that they will,
of their courtesy, be pleased to ransom their steeds and armour, since
that which I wear I can hardly term mine own."

"We stand commissioned, each of us," answered the squire of Reginald
Front-de-Boeuf, "to offer a hundred zecchins in ransom of these horses
and suits of armour."

"It is sufficient," said the Disinherited Knight. "Half the sum
my present necessities compel me to accept; of the remaining half,
distribute one moiety among yourselves, sir squires, and divide the
other half betwixt the heralds and the pursuivants, and minstrels, and
attendants."

The squires, with cap in hand, and low reverences, expressed their deep
sense of a courtesy and generosity not often practised, at least upon a
scale so extensive. The Disinherited Knight then addressed his discourse
to Baldwin, the squire of Brian de Bois-Guilbert. "From your master,"
said he, "I will accept neither arms nor ransom. Say to him in my name,
that our strife is not ended--no, not till we have fought as well with
swords as with lances--as well on foot as on horseback. To this
mortal quarrel he has himself defied me, and I shall not forget the
challenge.--Meantime, let him be assured, that I hold him not as one of
his companions, with whom I can with pleasure exchange courtesies; but
rather as one with whom I stand upon terms of mortal defiance."

"My master," answered Baldwin, "knows how to requite scorn with scorn,
and blows with blows, as well as courtesy with courtesy. Since you
disdain to accept from him any share of the ransom at which you have
rated the arms of the other knights, I must leave his armour and his
horse here, being well assured that he will never deign to mount the one
nor wear the other."

"You have spoken well, good squire," said the Disinherited Knight,
"well and boldly, as it beseemeth him to speak who answers for an absent
master. Leave not, however, the horse and armour here. Restore them to
thy master; or, if he scorns to accept them, retain them, good friend,
for thine own use. So far as they are mine, I bestow them upon you
freely."

Baldwin made a deep obeisance, and retired with his companions; and the
Disinherited Knight entered the pavilion.

"Thus far, Gurth," said he, addressing his attendant, "the reputation of
English chivalry hath not suffered in my hands."

"And I," said Gurth, "for a Saxon swineherd, have not ill played the
personage of a Norman squire-at-arms."

"Yea, but," answered the Disinherited Knight, "thou hast ever kept me in
anxiety lest thy clownish bearing should discover thee."

"Tush!" said Gurth, "I fear discovery from none, saving my playfellow,
Wamba the Jester, of whom I could never discover whether he were most
knave or fool. Yet I could scarce choose but laugh, when my old master
passed so near to me, dreaming all the while that Gurth was keeping his
porkers many a mile off, in the thickets and swamps of Rotherwood. If I
am discovered---"

"Enough," said the Disinherited Knight, "thou knowest my promise."

"Nay, for that matter," said Gurth, "I will never fail my friend for
fear of my skin-cutting. I have a tough hide, that will bear knife or
scourge as well as any boar's hide in my herd."

"Trust me, I will requite the risk you run for my love, Gurth," said the
Knight. "Meanwhile, I pray you to accept these ten pieces of gold."

"I am richer," said Gurth, putting them into his pouch, "than ever was
swineherd or bondsman."

"Take this bag of gold to Ashby," continued his master, "and find out
Isaac the Jew of York, and let him pay himself for the horse and arms
with which his credit supplied me."

"Nay, by St Dunstan," replied Gurth, "that I will not do."

"How, knave," replied his master, "wilt thou not obey my commands?"

"So they be honest, reasonable, and Christian commands," replied Gurth;
"but this is none of these. To suffer the Jew to pay himself would be
dishonest, for it would be cheating my master; and unreasonable, for it
were the part of a fool; and unchristian, since it would be plundering a
believer to enrich an infidel."

"See him contented, however, thou stubborn varlet," said the
Disinherited Knight.

"I will do so," said Gurth, taking the bag under his cloak, and leaving
the apartment; "and it will go hard," he muttered, "but I content him
with one-half of his own asking." So saying, he departed, and left the
Disinherited Knight to his own perplexed ruminations; which, upon more
accounts than it is now possible to communicate to the reader, were of a
nature peculiarly agitating and painful.

We must now change the scene to the village of Ashby, or rather to a
country house in its vicinity belonging to a wealthy Israelite, with
whom Isaac, his daughter, and retinue, had taken up their quarters; the
Jews, it is well known, being as liberal in exercising the duties of
hospitality and charity among their own people, as they were alleged to
be reluctant and churlish in extending them to those whom they
termed Gentiles, and whose treatment of them certainly merited little
hospitality at their hand.

In an apartment, small indeed, but richly furnished with decorations of
an Oriental taste, Rebecca was seated on a heap of embroidered cushions,
which, piled along a low platform that surrounded the chamber, served,
like the estrada of the Spaniards, instead of chairs and stools. She
was watching the motions of her father with a look of anxious and
filial affection, while he paced the apartment with a dejected mien
and disordered step; sometimes clasping his hands together--sometimes
casting his eyes to the roof of the apartment, as one who laboured under
great mental tribulation. "O, Jacob!" he exclaimed--"O, all ye twelve
Holy Fathers of our tribe! what a losing venture is this for one who
hath duly kept every jot and tittle of the law of Moses--Fifty zecchins
wrenched from me at one clutch, and by the talons of a tyrant!"

"But, father," said Rebecca, "you seemed to give the gold to Prince John
willingly."

"Willingly? the blotch of Egypt upon him!--Willingly, saidst thou?--Ay,
as willingly as when, in the Gulf of Lyons, I flung over my merchandise
to lighten the ship, while she laboured in the tempest--robed the
seething billows in my choice silks--perfumed their briny foam with
myrrh and aloes--enriched their caverns with gold and silver work! And
was not that an hour of unutterable misery, though my own hands made the
sacrifice?"

"But it was a sacrifice which Heaven exacted to save our lives,"
answered Rebecca, "and the God of our fathers has since blessed your
store and your gettings."

"Ay," answered Isaac, "but if the tyrant lays hold on them as he did
to-day, and compels me to smile while he is robbing me?--O, daughter,
disinherited and wandering as we are, the worst evil which befalls our
race is, that when we are wronged and plundered, all the world laughs
around, and we are compelled to suppress our sense of injury, and to
smile tamely, when we would revenge bravely."

"Think not thus of it, my father," said Rebecca; "we also have
advantages. These Gentiles, cruel and oppressive as they are, are in
some sort dependent on the dispersed children of Zion, whom they despise
and persecute. Without the aid of our wealth, they could neither furnish
forth their hosts in war, nor their triumphs in peace, and the gold
which we lend them returns with increase to our coffers. We are like the
herb which flourisheth most when it is most trampled on. Even this day's
pageant had not proceeded without the consent of the despised Jew, who
furnished the means."

"Daughter," said Isaac, "thou hast harped upon another string of sorrow.
The goodly steed and the rich armour, equal to the full profit of my
adventure with our Kirjath Jairam of Leicester--there is a dead loss
too--ay, a loss which swallows up the gains of a week; ay, of the space
between two Sabbaths--and yet it may end better than I now think, for
'tis a good youth."

"Assuredly," said Rebecca, "you shall not repent you of requiting the
good deed received of the stranger knight."

"I trust so, daughter," said Isaac, "and I trust too in the rebuilding
of Zion; but as well do I hope with my own bodily eyes to see the walls
and battlements of the new Temple, as to see a Christian, yea, the very
best of Christians, repay a debt to a Jew, unless under the awe of the
judge and jailor."

So saying, he resumed his discontented walk through the apartment; and
Rebecca, perceiving that her attempts at consolation only served to
awaken new subjects of complaint, wisely desisted from her unavailing
efforts--a prudential line of conduct, and we recommend to all who set
up for comforters and advisers, to follow it in the like circumstances.

The evening was now becoming dark, when a Jewish servant entered the
apartment, and placed upon the table two silver lamps, fed with perfumed
oil; the richest wines, and the most delicate refreshments, were at the
same time displayed by another Israelitish domestic on a small ebony
table, inlaid with silver; for, in the interior of their houses, the
Jews refused themselves no expensive indulgences. At the same time the
servant informed Isaac, that a Nazarene (so they termed Christians,
while conversing among themselves) desired to speak with him. He that
would live by traffic, must hold himself at the disposal of every one
claiming business with him. Isaac at once replaced on the table the
untasted glass of Greek wine which he had just raised to his lips, and
saying hastily to his daughter, "Rebecca, veil thyself," commanded the
stranger to be admitted.

Just as Rebecca had dropped over her fine features a screen of silver
gauze which reached to her feet, the door opened, and Gurth entered,
wrapt in the ample folds of his Norman mantle. His appearance was rather
suspicious than prepossessing, especially as, instead of doffing his
bonnet, he pulled it still deeper over his rugged brow.

"Art thou Isaac the Jew of York?" said Gurth, in Saxon.

"I am," replied Isaac, in the same language, (for his traffic had
rendered every tongue spoken in Britain familiar to him)--"and who art
thou?"

"That is not to the purpose," answered Gurth.

"As much as my name is to thee," replied Isaac; "for without knowing
thine, how can I hold intercourse with thee?"

"Easily," answered Gurth; "I, being to pay money, must know that I
deliver it to the right person; thou, who are to receive it, will not, I
think, care very greatly by whose hands it is delivered."

"O," said the Jew, "you are come to pay moneys?--Holy Father Abraham!
that altereth our relation to each other. And from whom dost thou bring
it?"

"From the Disinherited Knight," said Gurth, "victor in this day's
tournament. It is the price of the armour supplied to him by Kirjath
Jairam of Leicester, on thy recommendation. The steed is restored to thy
stable. I desire to know the amount of the sum which I am to pay for the
armour."

"I said he was a good youth!" exclaimed Isaac with joyful exultation. "A
cup of wine will do thee no harm," he added, filling and handing to the
swineherd a richer drought than Gurth had ever before tasted. "And how
much money," continued Isaac, "has thou brought with thee?"

"Holy Virgin!" said Gurth, setting down the cup, "what nectar these
unbelieving dogs drink, while true Christians are fain to quaff ale as
muddy and thick as the draff we give to hogs!--What money have I
brought with me?" continued the Saxon, when he had finished this uncivil
ejaculation, "even but a small sum; something in hand the whilst. What,
Isaac! thou must bear a conscience, though it be a Jewish one."

"Nay, but," said Isaac, "thy master has won goodly steeds and rich
armours with the strength of his lance, and of his right hand--but 'tis
a good youth--the Jew will take these in present payment, and render him
back the surplus."

"My master has disposed of them already," said Gurth.

"Ah! that was wrong," said the Jew, "that was the part of a fool. No
Christians here could buy so many horses and armour--no Jew except
myself would give him half the values. But thou hast a hundred zecchins
with thee in that bag," said Isaac, prying under Gurth's cloak, "it is a
heavy one."

"I have heads for cross-bow bolts in it," said Gurth, readily.

"Well, then"--said Isaac, panting and hesitating between habitual love
of gain and a new-born desire to be liberal in the present instance, "if
I should say that I would take eighty zecchins for the good steed and
the rich armour, which leaves me not a guilder's profit, have you money
to pay me?"

"Barely," said Gurth, though the sum demanded was more reasonable than
he expected, "and it will leave my master nigh penniless. Nevertheless,
if such be your least offer, I must be content."

"Fill thyself another goblet of wine," said the Jew. "Ah! eighty
zecchins is too little. It leaveth no profit for the usages of the
moneys; and, besides, the good horse may have suffered wrong in this
day's encounter. O, it was a hard and a dangerous meeting! man and steed
rushing on each other like wild bulls of Bashan! The horse cannot but
have had wrong."

"And I say," replied Gurth, "he is sound, wind and limb; and you may
see him now, in your stable. And I say, over and above, that seventy
zecchins is enough for the armour, and I hope a Christian's word is as
good as a Jew's. If you will not take seventy, I will carry this bag"
(and he shook it till the contents jingled) "back to my master."

"Nay, nay!" said Isaac; "lay down the talents--the shekels--the eighty
zecchins, and thou shalt see I will consider thee liberally."

Gurth at length complied; and telling out eighty zecchins upon the
table, the Jew delivered out to him an acquittance for the horse and
suit of armour. The Jew's hand trembled for joy as he wrapped up the
first seventy pieces of gold. The last ten he told over with much
deliberation, pausing, and saying something as he took each piece from
the table, and dropt it into his purse. It seemed as if his avarice were
struggling with his better nature, and compelling him to pouch zecchin
after zecchin while his generosity urged him to restore some part at
least to his benefactor, or as a donation to his agent. His whole speech
ran nearly thus:

"Seventy-one--seventy-two; thy master is a good youth--seventy-three,
an excellent youth--seventy-four--that piece hath been clipt
within the ring--seventy-five--and that looketh light of
weight--seventy-six--when thy master wants money, let him come to Isaac
of York--seventy-seven--that is, with reasonable security." Here he made
a considerable pause, and Gurth had good hope that the last three pieces
might escape the fate of their comrades; but the enumeration
proceeded.--"Seventy-eight--thou art a good fellow--seventy-nine--and
deservest something for thyself---"

Here the Jew paused again, and looked at the last zecchin, intending,
doubtless, to bestow it upon Gurth. He weighed it upon the tip of his
finger, and made it ring by dropping it upon the table. Had it rung too
flat, or had it felt a hair's breadth too light, generosity had carried
the day; but, unhappily for Gurth, the chime was full and true, the
zecchin plump, newly coined, and a grain above weight. Isaac could not
find in his heart to part with it, so dropt it into his purse as if in
absence of mind, with the words, "Eighty completes the tale, and I trust
thy master will reward thee handsomely.--Surely," he added, looking
earnestly at the bag, "thou hast more coins in that pouch?"

Gurth grinned, which was his nearest approach to a laugh, as he replied,
"About the same quantity which thou hast just told over so carefully."
He then folded the quittance, and put it under his cap, adding,--"Peril
of thy beard, Jew, see that this be full and ample!" He filled himself
unbidden, a third goblet of wine, and left the apartment without
ceremony.

"Rebecca," said the Jew, "that Ishmaelite hath gone somewhat beyond me.
Nevertheless his master is a good youth--ay, and I am well pleased that
he hath gained shekels of gold and shekels of silver, even by the speed
of his horse and by the strength of his lance, which, like that of
Goliath the Philistine, might vie with a weaver's beam."

As he turned to receive Rebecca's answer, he observed, that during his
chattering with Gurth, she had left the apartment unperceived.

In the meanwhile, Gurth had descended the stair, and, having reached the
dark antechamber or hall, was puzzling about to discover the entrance,
when a figure in white, shown by a small silver lamp which she held in
her hand, beckoned him into a side apartment. Gurth had some reluctance
to obey the summons. Rough and impetuous as a wild boar, where only
earthly force was to be apprehended, he had all the characteristic
terrors of a Saxon respecting fawns, forest-fiends, white women, and
the whole of the superstitions which his ancestors had brought with them
from the wilds of Germany. He remembered, moreover, that he was in the
house of a Jew, a people who, besides the other unamiable qualities
which popular report ascribed to them, were supposed to be profound
necromancers and cabalists. Nevertheless, after a moment's pause, he
obeyed the beckoning summons of the apparition, and followed her into
the apartment which she indicated, where he found to his joyful surprise
that his fair guide was the beautiful Jewess whom he had seen at the
tournament, and a short time in her father's apartment.

She asked him the particulars of his transaction with Isaac, which he
detailed accurately.

"My father did but jest with thee, good fellow," said Rebecca; "he owes
thy master deeper kindness than these arms and steed could pay, were
their value tenfold. What sum didst thou pay my father even now?"

"Eighty zecchins," said Gurth, surprised at the question.

"In this purse," said Rebecca, "thou wilt find a hundred. Restore to
thy master that which is his due, and enrich thyself with the remainder.
Haste--begone--stay not to render thanks! and beware how you pass
through this crowded town, where thou mayst easily lose both thy burden
and thy life.--Reuben," she added, clapping her hands together, "light
forth this stranger, and fail not to draw lock and bar behind him."
Reuben, a dark-brow'd and black-bearded Israelite, obeyed her summons,
with a torch in his hand; undid the outward door of the house, and
conducting Gurth across a paved court, let him out through a wicket in
the entrance-gate, which he closed behind him with such bolts and chains
as would well have become that of a prison.

"By St Dunstan," said Gurth, as he stumbled up the dark avenue, "this
is no Jewess, but an angel from heaven! Ten zecchins from my brave young
master--twenty from this pearl of Zion--Oh, happy day!--Such another,
Gurth, will redeem thy bondage, and make thee a brother as free of thy
guild as the best. And then do I lay down my swineherd's horn and staff,
and take the freeman's sword and buckler, and follow my young master to
the death, without hiding either my face or my name."




CHAPTER XI

     1st Outlaw: Stand, sir, and throw us that you have about you;
     If not, we'll make you sit, and rifle you.
     Speed: Sir, we are undone! these are the villains
     That all the travellers do fear so much.
     Val: My friends,--
     1st Out: That's not so, sir, we are your enemies.
     2d Out: Peace! we'll hear him.
     3d Out: Ay, by my beard, will we;
     For he's a proper man.
     --Two Gentlemen of Verona

The nocturnal adventures of Gurth were not yet concluded; indeed he
himself became partly of that mind, when, after passing one or two
straggling houses which stood in the outskirts of the village, he found
himself in a deep lane, running between two banks overgrown with hazel
and holly, while here and there a dwarf oak flung its arms altogether
across the path. The lane was moreover much rutted and broken up by the
carriages which had recently transported articles of various kinds to
the tournament; and it was dark, for the banks and bushes intercepted
the light of the harvest moon.

From the village were heard the distant sounds of revelry, mixed
occasionally with loud laughter, sometimes broken by screams, and
sometimes by wild strains of distant music. All these sounds, intimating
the disorderly state of the town, crowded with military nobles and
their dissolute attendants, gave Gurth some uneasiness. "The Jewess was
right," he said to himself. "By heaven and St Dunstan, I would I were
safe at my journey's end with all this treasure! Here are such numbers,
I will not say of arrant thieves, but of errant knights and errant
squires, errant monks and errant minstrels, errant jugglers and errant
jesters, that a man with a single merk would be in danger, much more a
poor swineherd with a whole bagful of zecchins. Would I were out of
the shade of these infernal bushes, that I might at least see any of St
Nicholas's clerks before they spring on my shoulders."