Gurth accordingly hastened his pace, in order to gain the open common
to which the lane led, but was not so fortunate as to accomplish his
object. Just as he had attained the upper end of the lane, where the
underwood was thickest, four men sprung upon him, even as his fears
anticipated, two from each side of the road, and seized him so fast,
that resistance, if at first practicable, would have been now too
late.--"Surrender your charge," said one of them; "we are the deliverers
of the commonwealth, who ease every man of his burden."

"You should not ease me of mine so lightly," muttered Gurth, whose
surly honesty could not be tamed even by the pressure of immediate
violence,--"had I it but in my power to give three strokes in its
defence."

"We shall see that presently," said the robber; and, speaking to his
companions, he added, "bring along the knave. I see he would have his
head broken, as well as his purse cut, and so be let blood in two veins
at once."

Gurth was hurried along agreeably to this mandate, and having been
dragged somewhat roughly over the bank, on the left-hand side of the
lane, found himself in a straggling thicket, which lay betwixt it and
the open common. He was compelled to follow his rough conductors into
the very depth of this cover, where they stopt unexpectedly in an
irregular open space, free in a great measure from trees, and on which,
therefore, the beams of the moon fell without much interruption from
boughs and leaves. Here his captors were joined by two other persons,
apparently belonging to the gang. They had short swords by their sides,
and quarter-staves in their hands, and Gurth could now observe that
all six wore visors, which rendered their occupation a matter of no
question, even had their former proceedings left it in doubt.

"What money hast thou, churl?" said one of the thieves.

"Thirty zecchins of my own property," answered Gurth, doggedly.

"A forfeit--a forfeit," shouted the robbers; "a Saxon hath thirty
zecchins, and returns sober from a village! An undeniable and
unredeemable forfeit of all he hath about him."

"I hoarded it to purchase my freedom," said Gurth.

"Thou art an ass," replied one of the thieves "three quarts of double
ale had rendered thee as free as thy master, ay, and freer too, if he be
a Saxon like thyself."

"A sad truth," replied Gurth; "but if these same thirty zecchins will
buy my freedom from you, unloose my hands, and I will pay them to you."

"Hold," said one who seemed to exercise some authority over the others;
"this bag which thou bearest, as I can feel through thy cloak, contains
more coin than thou hast told us of."

"It is the good knight my master's," answered Gurth, "of which,
assuredly, I would not have spoken a word, had you been satisfied with
working your will upon mine own property."

"Thou art an honest fellow," replied the robber, "I warrant thee; and we
worship not St Nicholas so devoutly but what thy thirty zecchins may yet
escape, if thou deal uprightly with us. Meantime render up thy trust
for a time." So saying, he took from Gurth's breast the large leathern
pouch, in which the purse given him by Rebecca was enclosed, as well as
the rest of the zecchins, and then continued his interrogation.--"Who is
thy master?"

"The Disinherited Knight," said Gurth.

"Whose good lance," replied the robber, "won the prize in to-day's
tourney? What is his name and lineage?"

"It is his pleasure," answered Gurth, "that they be concealed; and from
me, assuredly, you will learn nought of them."

"What is thine own name and lineage?"

"To tell that," said Gurth, "might reveal my master's."

"Thou art a saucy groom," said the robber, "but of that anon. How comes
thy master by this gold? is it of his inheritance, or by what means hath
it accrued to him?"

"By his good lance," answered Gurth.--"These bags contain the ransom of
four good horses, and four good suits of armour."

"How much is there?" demanded the robber.

"Two hundred zecchins."

"Only two hundred zecchins!" said the bandit; "your master hath dealt
liberally by the vanquished, and put them to a cheap ransom. Name those
who paid the gold."

Gurth did so.

"The armour and horse of the Templar Brian de Bois-Guilbert, at what
ransom were they held?--Thou seest thou canst not deceive me."

"My master," replied Gurth, "will take nought from the Templar save
his life's-blood. They are on terms of mortal defiance, and cannot hold
courteous intercourse together."

"Indeed!"--repeated the robber, and paused after he had said the
word. "And what wert thou now doing at Ashby with such a charge in thy
custody?"

"I went thither to render to Isaac the Jew of York," replied Gurth,
"the price of a suit of armour with which he fitted my master for this
tournament."

"And how much didst thou pay to Isaac?--Methinks, to judge by weight,
there is still two hundred zecchins in this pouch."

"I paid to Isaac," said the Saxon, "eighty zecchins, and he restored me
a hundred in lieu thereof."

"How! what!" exclaimed all the robbers at once; "darest thou trifle with
us, that thou tellest such improbable lies?"

"What I tell you," said Gurth, "is as true as the moon is in heaven. You
will find the just sum in a silken purse within the leathern pouch, and
separate from the rest of the gold."

"Bethink thee, man," said the Captain, "thou speakest of a Jew--of an
Israelite,--as unapt to restore gold, as the dry sand of his deserts to
return the cup of water which the pilgrim spills upon them."

"There is no more mercy in them," said another of the banditti, "than in
an unbribed sheriffs officer."

"It is, however, as I say," said Gurth.

"Strike a light instantly," said the Captain; "I will examine this said
purse; and if it be as this fellow says, the Jew's bounty is little
less miraculous than the stream which relieved his fathers in the
wilderness."

A light was procured accordingly, and the robber proceeded to examine
the purse. The others crowded around him, and even two who had hold of
Gurth relaxed their grasp while they stretched their necks to see the
issue of the search. Availing himself of their negligence, by a sudden
exertion of strength and activity, Gurth shook himself free of their
hold, and might have escaped, could he have resolved to leave his
master's property behind him. But such was no part of his intention.
He wrenched a quarter-staff from one of the fellows, struck down the
Captain, who was altogether unaware of his purpose, and had well-nigh
repossessed himself of the pouch and treasure. The thieves, however,
were too nimble for him, and again secured both the bag and the trusty
Gurth.

"Knave!" said the Captain, getting up, "thou hast broken my head;
and with other men of our sort thou wouldst fare the worse for thy
insolence. But thou shalt know thy fate instantly. First let us speak of
thy master; the knight's matters must go before the squire's, according
to the due order of chivalry. Stand thou fast in the meantime--if
thou stir again, thou shalt have that will make thee quiet for thy
life--Comrades!" he then said, addressing his gang, "this purse is
embroidered with Hebrew characters, and I well believe the yeoman's tale
is true. The errant knight, his master, must needs pass us toll-free. He
is too like ourselves for us to make booty of him, since dogs should not
worry dogs where wolves and foxes are to be found in abundance."

"Like us?" answered one of the gang; "I should like to hear how that is
made good."

"Why, thou fool," answered the Captain, "is he not poor and disinherited
as we are?--Doth he not win his substance at the sword's point as we
do?--Hath he not beaten Front-de-Boeuf and Malvoisin, even as we would
beat them if we could? Is he not the enemy to life and death of Brian
de Bois-Guilbert, whom we have so much reason to fear? And were all
this otherwise, wouldst thou have us show a worse conscience than an
unbeliever, a Hebrew Jew?"

"Nay, that were a shame," muttered the other fellow; "and yet, when I
served in the band of stout old Gandelyn, we had no such scruples of
conscience. And this insolent peasant,--he too, I warrant me, is to be
dismissed scatheless?"

"Not if THOU canst scathe him," replied the Captain.--"Here, fellow,"
continued he, addressing Gurth, "canst thou use the staff, that thou
starts to it so readily?"

"I think," said Gurth, "thou shouldst be best able to reply to that
question."

"Nay, by my troth, thou gavest me a round knock," replied the Captain;
"do as much for this fellow, and thou shalt pass scot-free; and if thou
dost not--why, by my faith, as thou art such a sturdy knave, I think
I must pay thy ransom myself.--Take thy staff, Miller," he added, "and
keep thy head; and do you others let the fellow go, and give him a
staff--there is light enough to lay on load by."

The two champions being alike armed with quarter-staves, stepped forward
into the centre of the open space, in order to have the full benefit of
the moonlight; the thieves in the meantime laughing, and crying to their
comrade, "Miller! beware thy toll-dish." The Miller, on the other hand,
holding his quarter-staff by the middle, and making it flourish round
his head after the fashion which the French call "faire le moulinet",
exclaimed boastfully, "Come on, churl, an thou darest: thou shalt feel
the strength of a miller's thumb!"

"If thou be'st a miller," answered Gurth, undauntedly, making his weapon
play around his head with equal dexterity, "thou art doubly a thief, and
I, as a true man, bid thee defiance."

So saying, the two champions closed together, and for a few minutes they
displayed great equality in strength, courage, and skill, intercepting
and returning the blows of their adversary with the most rapid
dexterity, while, from the continued clatter of their weapons, a person
at a distance might have supposed that there were at least six persons
engaged on each side. Less obstinate, and even less dangerous combats,
have been described in good heroic verse; but that of Gurth and the
Miller must remain unsung, for want of a sacred poet to do justice to
its eventful progress. Yet, though quarter-staff play be out of date,
what we can in prose we will do for these bold champions.

Long they fought equally, until the Miller began to lose temper at
finding himself so stoutly opposed, and at hearing the laughter of his
companions, who, as usual in such cases, enjoyed his vexation. This was
not a state of mind favourable to the noble game of quarter-staff, in
which, as in ordinary cudgel-playing, the utmost coolness is requisite;
and it gave Gurth, whose temper was steady, though surly, the
opportunity of acquiring a decided advantage, in availing himself of
which he displayed great mastery.

The Miller pressed furiously forward, dealing blows with either end of
his weapon alternately, and striving to come to half-staff distance,
while Gurth defended himself against the attack, keeping his hands about
a yard asunder, and covering himself by shifting his weapon with great
celerity, so as to protect his head and body. Thus did he maintain
the defensive, making his eye, foot, and hand keep true time, until,
observing his antagonist to lose wind, he darted the staff at his face
with his left hand; and, as the Miller endeavoured to parry the thrust,
he slid his right hand down to his left, and with the full swing of the
weapon struck his opponent on the left side of the head, who instantly
measured his length upon the green sward.

"Well and yeomanly done!" shouted the robbers; "fair play and Old
England for ever! The Saxon hath saved both his purse and his hide, and
the Miller has met his match."

"Thou mayst go thy ways, my friend," said the Captain, addressing Gurth,
in special confirmation of the general voice, "and I will cause two of
my comrades to guide thee by the best way to thy master's pavilion, and
to guard thee from night-walkers that might have less tender consciences
than ours; for there is many one of them upon the amble in such a night
as this. Take heed, however," he added sternly; "remember thou hast
refused to tell thy name--ask not after ours, nor endeavour to discover
who or what we are; for, if thou makest such an attempt, thou wilt come
by worse fortune than has yet befallen thee."

Gurth thanked the Captain for his courtesy, and promised to attend to
his recommendation. Two of the outlaws, taking up their quarter-staves,
and desiring Gurth to follow close in the rear, walked roundly forward
along a by-path, which traversed the thicket and the broken ground
adjacent to it. On the very verge of the thicket two men spoke to his
conductors, and receiving an answer in a whisper, withdrew into the
wood, and suffered them to pass unmolested. This circumstance induced
Gurth to believe both that the gang was strong in numbers, and that they
kept regular guards around their place of rendezvous.

When they arrived on the open heath, where Gurth might have had some
trouble in finding his road, the thieves guided him straight forward to
the top of a little eminence, whence he could see, spread beneath him
in the moonlight, the palisades of the lists, the glimmering pavilions
pitched at either end, with the pennons which adorned them fluttering
in the moonbeams, and from which could be heard the hum of the song with
which the sentinels were beguiling their night-watch.

Here the thieves stopt.

"We go with you no farther," said they; "it were not safe that we should
do so.--Remember the warning you have received--keep secret what has
this night befallen you, and you will have no room to repent it--neglect
what is now told you, and the Tower of London shall not protect you
against our revenge."

"Good night to you, kind sirs," said Gurth; "I shall remember your
orders, and trust that there is no offence in wishing you a safer and an
honester trade."

Thus they parted, the outlaws returning in the direction from whence
they had come, and Gurth proceeding to the tent of his master, to whom,
notwithstanding the injunction he had received, he communicated the
whole adventures of the evening.

The Disinherited Knight was filled with astonishment, no less at the
generosity of Rebecca, by which, however, he resolved he would not
profit, than that of the robbers, to whose profession such a quality
seemed totally foreign. His course of reflections upon these singular
circumstances was, however, interrupted by the necessity for taking
repose, which the fatigue of the preceding day, and the propriety
of refreshing himself for the morrow's encounter, rendered alike
indispensable.

The knight, therefore, stretched himself for repose upon a rich couch
with which the tent was provided; and the faithful Gurth, extending
his hardy limbs upon a bear-skin which formed a sort of carpet to the
pavilion, laid himself across the opening of the tent, so that no one
could enter without awakening him.




CHAPTER XII

     The heralds left their pricking up and down,
     Now ringen trumpets loud and clarion.
     There is no more to say, but east and west,
     In go the speares sadly in the rest,
     In goth the sharp spur into the side,
     There see men who can just and who can ride;
     There shiver shaftes upon shieldes thick,
     He feeleth through the heart-spone the prick;
     Up springen speares, twenty feet in height,
     Out go the swordes to the silver bright;
     The helms they to-hewn and to-shred;
     Out burst the blood with stern streames red.
     Chaucer.

Morning arose in unclouded splendour, and ere the sun was much above the
horizon, the idlest or the most eager of the spectators appeared on the
common, moving to the lists as to a general centre, in order to secure a
favourable situation for viewing the continuation of the expected games.

The marshals and their attendants appeared next on the field, together
with the heralds, for the purpose of receiving the names of the knights
who intended to joust, with the side which each chose to espouse. This
was a necessary precaution, in order to secure equality betwixt the two
bodies who should be opposed to each other.

According to due formality, the Disinherited Knight was to be considered
as leader of the one body, while Brian de Bois-Guilbert, who had been
rated as having done second-best in the preceding day, was named first
champion of the other band. Those who had concurred in the challenge
adhered to his party of course, excepting only Ralph de Vipont, whom his
fall had rendered unfit so soon to put on his armour. There was no want
of distinguished and noble candidates to fill up the ranks on either
side.

In fact, although the general tournament, in which all knights fought
at once, was more dangerous than single encounters, they were,
nevertheless, more frequented and practised by the chivalry of the age.
Many knights, who had not sufficient confidence in their own skill to
defy a single adversary of high reputation, were, nevertheless, desirous
of displaying their valour in the general combat, where they might
meet others with whom they were more upon an equality. On the present
occasion, about fifty knights were inscribed as desirous of combating
upon each side, when the marshals declared that no more could be
admitted, to the disappointment of several who were too late in
preferring their claim to be included.

About the hour of ten o'clock, the whole plain was crowded with
horsemen, horsewomen, and foot-passengers, hastening to the tournament;
and shortly after, a grand flourish of trumpets announced Prince John
and his retinue, attended by many of those knights who meant to take
share in the game, as well as others who had no such intention.

About the same time arrived Cedric the Saxon, with the Lady Rowena,
unattended, however, by Athelstane. This Saxon lord had arrayed his
tall and strong person in armour, in order to take his place among the
combatants; and, considerably to the surprise of Cedric, had chosen to
enlist himself on the part of the Knight Templar. The Saxon, indeed, had
remonstrated strongly with his friend upon the injudicious choice he had
made of his party; but he had only received that sort of answer usually
given by those who are more obstinate in following their own course,
than strong in justifying it.

His best, if not his only reason, for adhering to the party of Brian de
Bois-Guilbert, Athelstane had the prudence to keep to himself. Though
his apathy of disposition prevented his taking any means to recommend
himself to the Lady Rowena, he was, nevertheless, by no means insensible
to her charms, and considered his union with her as a matter already
fixed beyond doubt, by the assent of Cedric and her other friends. It
had therefore been with smothered displeasure that the proud though
indolent Lord of Coningsburgh beheld the victor of the preceding day
select Rowena as the object of that honour which it became his privilege
to confer. In order to punish him for a preference which seemed to
interfere with his own suit, Athelstane, confident of his strength,
and to whom his flatterers, at least, ascribed great skill in arms, had
determined not only to deprive the Disinherited Knight of his powerful
succour, but, if an opportunity should occur, to make him feel the
weight of his battle-axe.

De Bracy, and other knights attached to Prince John, in obedience to
a hint from him, had joined the party of the challengers, John being
desirous to secure, if possible, the victory to that side. On the
other hand, many other knights, both English and Norman, natives and
strangers, took part against the challengers, the more readily that
the opposite band was to be led by so distinguished a champion as the
Disinherited Knight had approved himself.

As soon as Prince John observed that the destined Queen of the day had
arrived upon the field, assuming that air of courtesy which sat well
upon him when he was pleased to exhibit it, he rode forward to meet
her, doffed his bonnet, and, alighting from his horse, assisted the Lady
Rowena from her saddle, while his followers uncovered at the same time,
and one of the most distinguished dismounted to hold her palfrey.

"It is thus," said Prince John, "that we set the dutiful example of
loyalty to the Queen of Love and Beauty, and are ourselves her guide to
the throne which she must this day occupy.--Ladies," he said, "attend
your Queen, as you wish in your turn to be distinguished by like
honours."

So saying, the Prince marshalled Rowena to the seat of honour opposite
his own, while the fairest and most distinguished ladies present crowded
after her to obtain places as near as possible to their temporary
sovereign.

No sooner was Rowena seated, than a burst of music, half-drowned by
the shouts of the multitude, greeted her new dignity. Meantime, the sun
shone fierce and bright upon the polished arms of the knights of either
side, who crowded the opposite extremities of the lists, and held eager
conference together concerning the best mode of arranging their line of
battle, and supporting the conflict.

The heralds then proclaimed silence until the laws of the tourney should
be rehearsed. These were calculated in some degree to abate the dangers
of the day; a precaution the more necessary, as the conflict was to be
maintained with sharp swords and pointed lances.

The champions were therefore prohibited to thrust with the sword, and
were confined to striking. A knight, it was announced, might use a mace
or battle-axe at pleasure, but the dagger was a prohibited weapon. A
knight unhorsed might renew the fight on foot with any other on the
opposite side in the same predicament; but mounted horsemen were in that
case forbidden to assail him. When any knight could force his antagonist
to the extremity of the lists, so as to touch the palisade with his
person or arms, such opponent was obliged to yield himself vanquished,
and his armour and horse were placed at the disposal of the conqueror.
A knight thus overcome was not permitted to take farther share in the
combat. If any combatant was struck down, and unable to recover his
feet, his squire or page might enter the lists, and drag his master out
of the press; but in that case the knight was adjudged vanquished, and
his arms and horse declared forfeited. The combat was to cease as
soon as Prince John should throw down his leading staff, or truncheon;
another precaution usually taken to prevent the unnecessary effusion
of blood by the too long endurance of a sport so desperate. Any knight
breaking the rules of the tournament, or otherwise transgressing the
rules of honourable chivalry, was liable to be stript of his arms, and,
having his shield reversed to be placed in that posture astride upon the
bars of the palisade, and exposed to public derision, in punishment of
his unknightly conduct. Having announced these precautions, the heralds
concluded with an exhortation to each good knight to do his duty, and to
merit favour from the Queen of Beauty and of Love.

This proclamation having been made, the heralds withdrew to their
stations. The knights, entering at either end of the lists in long
procession, arranged themselves in a double file, precisely opposite to
each other, the leader of each party being in the centre of the foremost
rank, a post which he did not occupy until each had carefully marshalled
the ranks of his party, and stationed every one in his place.

It was a goodly, and at the same time an anxious, sight, to behold so
many gallant champions, mounted bravely, and armed richly, stand ready
prepared for an encounter so formidable, seated on their war-saddles
like so many pillars of iron, and awaiting the signal of encounter with
the same ardour as their generous steeds, which, by neighing and pawing
the ground, gave signal of their impatience.

As yet the knights held their long lances upright, their bright points
glancing to the sun, and the streamers with which they were decorated
fluttering over the plumage of the helmets. Thus they remained while the
marshals of the field surveyed their ranks with the utmost exactness,
lest either party had more or fewer than the appointed number. The tale
was found exactly complete. The marshals then withdrew from the lists,
and William de Wyvil, with a voice of thunder, pronounced the signal
words--"Laissez aller!" The trumpets sounded as he spoke--the spears of
the champions were at once lowered and placed in the rests--the spurs
were dashed into the flanks of the horses, and the two foremost ranks
of either party rushed upon each other in full gallop, and met in the
middle of the lists with a shock, the sound of which was heard at a
mile's distance. The rear rank of each party advanced at a slower pace
to sustain the defeated, and follow up the success of the victors of
their party.

The consequences of the encounter were not instantly seen, for the dust
raised by the trampling of so many steeds darkened the air, and it was
a minute ere the anxious spectator could see the fate of the encounter.
When the fight became visible, half the knights on each side were
dismounted, some by the dexterity of their adversary's lance,--some by
the superior weight and strength of opponents, which had borne down
both horse and man,--some lay stretched on earth as if never more to
rise,--some had already gained their feet, and were closing hand to hand
with those of their antagonists who were in the same predicament,--and
several on both sides, who had received wounds by which they were
disabled, were stopping their blood by their scarfs, and endeavouring to
extricate themselves from the tumult. The mounted knights, whose lances
had been almost all broken by the fury of the encounter, were now
closely engaged with their swords, shouting their war-cries, and
exchanging buffets, as if honour and life depended on the issue of the
combat.

The tumult was presently increased by the advance of the second rank
on either side, which, acting as a reserve, now rushed on to aid their
companions. The followers of Brian de Bois-Guilbert shouted--"Ha!
Beau-seant! Beau-seant! [20]

"--For the Temple--For the Temple!" The opposite party shouted in
answer--"Desdichado! Desdichado!"--which watch-word they took from the
motto upon their leader's shield.

The champions thus encountering each other with the utmost fury, and
with alternate success, the tide of battle seemed to flow now toward the
southern, now toward the northern extremity of the lists, as the one
or the other party prevailed. Meantime the clang of the blows, and
the shouts of the combatants, mixed fearfully with the sound of the
trumpets, and drowned the groans of those who fell, and lay rolling
defenceless beneath the feet of the horses. The splendid armour of the
combatants was now defaced with dust and blood, and gave way at every
stroke of the sword and battle-axe. The gay plumage, shorn from the
crests, drifted upon the breeze like snow-flakes. All that was beautiful
and graceful in the martial array had disappeared, and what was now
visible was only calculated to awake terror or compassion.

Yet such is the force of habit, that not only the vulgar spectators,
who are naturally attracted by sights of horror, but even the ladies of
distinction who crowded the galleries, saw the conflict with a thrilling
interest certainly, but without a wish to withdraw their eyes from a
sight so terrible. Here and there, indeed, a fair cheek might turn pale,
or a faint scream might be heard, as a lover, a brother, or a husband,
was struck from his horse. But, in general, the ladies around encouraged
the combatants, not only by clapping their hands and waving their veils
and kerchiefs, but even by exclaiming, "Brave lance! Good sword!" when
any successful thrust or blow took place under their observation.

Such being the interest taken by the fair sex in this bloody game,
that of the men is the more easily understood. It showed itself in
loud acclamations upon every change of fortune, while all eyes were so
riveted on the lists, that the spectators seemed as if they themselves
had dealt and received the blows which were there so freely bestowed.
And between every pause was heard the voice of the heralds, exclaiming,
"Fight on, brave knights! Man dies, but glory lives!--Fight on--death
is better than defeat!--Fight on, brave knights!--for bright eyes behold
your deeds!"

Amid the varied fortunes of the combat, the eyes of all endeavoured to
discover the leaders of each band, who, mingling in the thick of the
fight, encouraged their companions both by voice and example. Both
displayed great feats of gallantry, nor did either Bois-Guilbert or the
Disinherited Knight find in the ranks opposed to them a champion who
could be termed their unquestioned match. They repeatedly endeavoured to
single out each other, spurred by mutual animosity, and aware that the
fall of either leader might be considered as decisive of victory. Such,
however, was the crowd and confusion, that, during the earlier part
of the conflict, their efforts to meet were unavailing, and they were
repeatedly separated by the eagerness of their followers, each of whom
was anxious to win honour, by measuring his strength against the leader
of the opposite party.

But when the field became thin by the numbers on either side who had
yielded themselves vanquished, had been compelled to the extremity
of the lists, or been otherwise rendered incapable of continuing the
strife, the Templar and the Disinherited Knight at length encountered
hand to hand, with all the fury that mortal animosity, joined to rivalry
of honour, could inspire. Such was the address of each in parrying
and striking, that the spectators broke forth into a unanimous and
involuntary shout, expressive of their delight and admiration.

But at this moment the party of the Disinherited Knight had the worst;
the gigantic arm of Front-de-Boeuf on the one flank, and the ponderous
strength of Athelstane on the other, bearing down and dispersing
those immediately exposed to them. Finding themselves freed from their
immediate antagonists, it seems to have occurred to both these knights
at the same instant, that they would render the most decisive advantage
to their party, by aiding the Templar in his contest with his rival.
Turning their horses, therefore, at the same moment, the Norman spurred
against the Disinherited Knight on the one side, and the Saxon on the
other. It was utterly impossible that the object of this unequal and
unexpected assault could have sustained it, had he not been warned by a
general cry from the spectators, who could not but take interest in one
exposed to such disadvantage.

"Beware! beware! Sir Disinherited!" was shouted so universally, that
the knight became aware of his danger; and, striking a full blow at the
Templar, he reined back his steed in the same moment, so as to escape
the charge of Athelstane and Front-de-Boeuf. These knights, therefore,
their aim being thus eluded, rushed from opposite sides betwixt the
object of their attack and the Templar, almost running their horses
against each other ere they could stop their career. Recovering their
horses however, and wheeling them round, the whole three pursued their
united purpose of bearing to the earth the Disinherited Knight.

Nothing could have saved him, except the remarkable strength and
activity of the noble horse which he had won on the preceding day.

This stood him in the more stead, as the horse of Bois-Guilbert was
wounded, and those of Front-de-Boeuf and Athelstane were both tired with
the weight of their gigantic masters, clad in complete armour, and with
the preceding exertions of the day. The masterly horsemanship of the
Disinherited Knight, and the activity of the noble animal which he
mounted, enabled him for a few minutes to keep at sword's point his
three antagonists, turning and wheeling with the agility of a hawk upon
the wing, keeping his enemies as far separate as he could, and rushing
now against the one, now against the other, dealing sweeping blows with
his sword, without waiting to receive those which were aimed at him in
return.

But although the lists rang with the applauses of his dexterity, it
was evident that he must at last be overpowered; and the nobles around
Prince John implored him with one voice to throw down his warder, and to
save so brave a knight from the disgrace of being overcome by odds.

"Not I, by the light of Heaven!" answered Prince John; "this
same springald, who conceals his name, and despises our proffered
hospitality, hath already gained one prize, and may now afford to
let others have their turn." As he spoke thus, an unexpected incident
changed the fortune of the day.

There was among the ranks of the Disinherited Knight a champion in
black armour, mounted on a black horse, large of size, tall, and to all
appearance powerful and strong, like the rider by whom he was mounted,
This knight, who bore on his shield no device of any kind, had hitherto
evinced very little interest in the event of the fight, beating off with
seeming ease those combatants who attacked him, but neither pursuing
his advantages, nor himself assailing any one. In short, he had hitherto
acted the part rather of a spectator than of a party in the tournament,
a circumstance which procured him among the spectators the name of "Le
Noir Faineant", or the Black Sluggard.

At once this knight seemed to throw aside his apathy, when he discovered
the leader of his party so hard bestead; for, setting spurs to
his horse, which was quite fresh, he came to his assistance like a
thunderbolt, exclaiming, in a voice like a trumpet-call, "Desdichado,
to the rescue!" It was high time; for, while the Disinherited Knight was
pressing upon the Templar, Front-de-Boeuf had got nigh to him with his
uplifted sword; but ere the blow could descend, the Sable Knight dealt
a stroke on his head, which, glancing from the polished helmet, lighted
with violence scarcely abated on the "chamfron" of the steed, and
Front-de-Boeuf rolled on the ground, both horse and man equally stunned
by the fury of the blow. "Le Noir Faineant" then turned his horse upon
Athelstane of Coningsburgh; and his own sword having been broken in his
encounter with Front-de-Boeuf, he wrenched from the hand of the bulky
Saxon the battle-axe which he wielded, and, like one familiar with
the use of the weapon, bestowed him such a blow upon the crest, that
Athelstane also lay senseless on the field. Having achieved this double
feat, for which he was the more highly applauded that it was totally
unexpected from him, the knight seemed to resume the sluggishness of
his character, returning calmly to the northern extremity of the lists,
leaving his leader to cope as he best could with Brian de Bois-Guilbert.
This was no longer matter of so much difficulty as formerly. The
Templars horse had bled much, and gave way under the shock of the
Disinherited Knight's charge. Brian de Bois-Guilbert rolled on the
field, encumbered with the stirrup, from which he was unable to draw his
foot. His antagonist sprung from horseback, waved his fatal sword over
the head of his adversary, and commanded him to yield himself; when
Prince John, more moved by the Templars dangerous situation than he had
been by that of his rival, saved him the mortification of confessing
himself vanquished, by casting down his warder, and putting an end to
the conflict.

It was, indeed, only the relics and embers of the fight which continued
to burn; for of the few knights who still continued in the lists, the
greater part had, by tacit consent, forborne the conflict for some time,
leaving it to be determined by the strife of the leaders.

The squires, who had found it a matter of danger and difficulty to
attend their masters during the engagement, now thronged into the lists
to pay their dutiful attendance to the wounded, who were removed with
the utmost care and attention to the neighbouring pavilions, or to the
quarters prepared for them in the adjoining village.

Thus ended the memorable field of Ashby-de-la-Zouche, one of the most
gallantly contested tournaments of that age; for although only four
knights, including one who was smothered by the heat of his armour, had
died upon the field, yet upwards of thirty were desperately wounded,
four or five of whom never recovered. Several more were disabled for
life; and those who escaped best carried the marks of the conflict to
the grave with them. Hence it is always mentioned in the old records, as
the Gentle and Joyous Passage of Arms of Ashby.

It being now the duty of Prince John to name the knight who had done
best, he determined that the honour of the day remained with the knight
whom the popular voice had termed "Le Noir Faineant." It was pointed out
to the Prince, in impeachment of this decree, that the victory had been
in fact won by the Disinherited Knight, who, in the course of the
day, had overcome six champions with his own hand, and who had finally
unhorsed and struck down the leader of the opposite party. But Prince
John adhered to his own opinion, on the ground that the Disinherited
Knight and his party had lost the day, but for the powerful assistance
of the Knight of the Black Armour, to whom, therefore, he persisted in
awarding the prize.

To the surprise of all present, however, the knight thus preferred was
nowhere to be found. He had left the lists immediately when the conflict
ceased, and had been observed by some spectators to move down one of
the forest glades with the same slow pace and listless and indifferent
manner which had procured him the epithet of the Black Sluggard. After
he had been summoned twice by sound of trumpet, and proclamation of
the heralds, it became necessary to name another to receive the honours
which had been assigned to him. Prince John had now no further excuse
for resisting the claim of the Disinherited Knight, whom, therefore, he
named the champion of the day.

Through a field slippery with blood, and encumbered with broken armour
and the bodies of slain and wounded horses, the marshals of the lists
again conducted the victor to the foot of Prince John's throne.

"Disinherited Knight," said Prince John, "since by that title only
you will consent to be known to us, we a second time award to you the
honours of this tournament, and announce to you your right to claim and
receive from the hands of the Queen of Love and Beauty, the Chaplet of
Honour which your valour has justly deserved." The Knight bowed low and
gracefully, but returned no answer.

While the trumpets sounded, while the heralds strained their voices in
proclaiming honour to the brave and glory to the victor--while ladies
waved their silken kerchiefs and embroidered veils, and while all ranks
joined in a clamorous shout of exultation, the marshals conducted the
Disinherited Knight across the lists to the foot of that throne of
honour which was occupied by the Lady Rowena.

On the lower step of this throne the champion was made to kneel down.
Indeed his whole action since the fight had ended, seemed rather to have
been upon the impulse of those around him than from his own free will;
and it was observed that he tottered as they guided him the second time
across the lists. Rowena, descending from her station with a graceful
and dignified step, was about to place the chaplet which she held in her
hand upon the helmet of the champion, when the marshals exclaimed with
one voice, "It must not be thus--his head must be bare." The knight
muttered faintly a few words, which were lost in the hollow of his
helmet, but their purport seemed to be a desire that his casque might
not be removed.

Whether from love of form, or from curiosity, the marshals paid no
attention to his expressions of reluctance, but unhelmed him by cutting
the laces of his casque, and undoing the fastening of his gorget. When
the helmet was removed, the well-formed, yet sun-burnt features of a
young man of twenty-five were seen, amidst a profusion of short fair
hair. His countenance was as pale as death, and marked in one or two
places with streaks of blood.

Rowena had no sooner beheld him than she uttered a faint shriek; but at
once summoning up the energy of her disposition, and compelling herself,
as it were, to proceed, while her frame yet trembled with the violence
of sudden emotion, she placed upon the drooping head of the victor
the splendid chaplet which was the destined reward of the day, and
pronounced, in a clear and distinct tone, these words: "I bestow on thee
this chaplet, Sir Knight, as the meed of valour assigned to this day's
victor:" Here she paused a moment, and then firmly added, "And upon
brows more worthy could a wreath of chivalry never be placed!"

The knight stooped his head, and kissed the hand of the lovely Sovereign
by whom his valour had been rewarded; and then, sinking yet farther
forward, lay prostrate at her feet.

There was a general consternation. Cedric, who had been struck mute by
the sudden appearance of his banished son, now rushed forward, as if to
separate him from Rowena. But this had been already accomplished by the
marshals of the field, who, guessing the cause of Ivanhoe's swoon, had
hastened to undo his armour, and found that the head of a lance had
penetrated his breastplate, and inflicted a wound in his side.




CHAPTER XIII

     "Heroes, approach!" Atrides thus aloud,
     "Stand forth distinguish'd from the circling crowd,
     Ye who by skill or manly force may claim,
     Your rivals to surpass and merit fame.
     This cow, worth twenty oxen, is decreed,
     For him who farthest sends the winged reed."
     --Iliad

The name of Ivanhoe was no sooner pronounced than it flew from mouth
to mouth, with all the celerity with which eagerness could convey and
curiosity receive it. It was not long ere it reached the circle of the
Prince, whose brow darkened as he heard the news. Looking around him,
however, with an air of scorn, "My Lords," said he, "and especially you,
Sir Prior, what think ye of the doctrine the learned tell us, concerning
innate attractions and antipathies? Methinks that I felt the presence
of my brother's minion, even when I least guessed whom yonder suit of
armour enclosed."

"Front-de-Boeuf must prepare to restore his fief of Ivanhoe," said De
Bracy, who, having discharged his part honourably in the tournament, had
laid his shield and helmet aside, and again mingled with the Prince's
retinue.

"Ay," answered Waldemar Fitzurse, "this gallant is likely to reclaim
the castle and manor which Richard assigned to him, and which your
Highness's generosity has since given to Front-de-Boeuf."

"Front-de-Boeuf," replied John, "is a man more willing to swallow three
manors such as Ivanhoe, than to disgorge one of them. For the rest,
sirs, I hope none here will deny my right to confer the fiefs of the
crown upon the faithful followers who are around me, and ready to
perform the usual military service, in the room of those who have
wandered to foreign Countries, and can neither render homage nor service
when called upon."

The audience were too much interested in the question not to pronounce
the Prince's assumed right altogether indubitable. "A generous
Prince!--a most noble Lord, who thus takes upon himself the task of
rewarding his faithful followers!"

Such were the words which burst from the train, expectants all of
them of similar grants at the expense of King Richard's followers and
favourites, if indeed they had not as yet received such. Prior Aymer
also assented to the general proposition, observing, however, "That the
blessed Jerusalem could not indeed be termed a foreign country. She
was 'communis mater'--the mother of all Christians. But he saw not,"
he declared, "how the Knight of Ivanhoe could plead any advantage from
this, since he" (the Prior) "was assured that the crusaders, under
Richard, had never proceeded much farther than Askalon, which, as all
the world knew, was a town of the Philistines, and entitled to none of
the privileges of the Holy City."

Waldemar, whose curiosity had led him towards the place where Ivanhoe
had fallen to the ground, now returned. "The gallant," said he,
"is likely to give your Highness little disturbance, and to leave
Front-de-Boeuf in the quiet possession of his gains--he is severely
wounded."

"Whatever becomes of him," said Prince John, "he is victor of the day;
and were he tenfold our enemy, or the devoted friend of our brother,
which is perhaps the same, his wounds must be looked to--our own
physician shall attend him."

A stern smile curled the Prince's lip as he spoke. Waldemar Fitzurse
hastened to reply, that Ivanhoe was already removed from the lists, and
in the custody of his friends.

"I was somewhat afflicted," he said, "to see the grief of the Queen of
Love and Beauty, whose sovereignty of a day this event has changed into
mourning. I am not a man to be moved by a woman's lament for her lover,
but this same Lady Rowena suppressed her sorrow with such dignity of
manner, that it could only be discovered by her folded hands, and her
tearless eye, which trembled as it remained fixed on the lifeless form
before her."

"Who is this Lady Rowena," said Prince John, "of whom we have heard so
much?"

"A Saxon heiress of large possessions," replied the Prior Aymer; "a rose
of loveliness, and a jewel of wealth; the fairest among a thousand, a
bundle of myrrh, and a cluster of camphire."

"We shall cheer her sorrows," said Prince John, "and amend her blood, by
wedding her to a Norman. She seems a minor, and must therefore be at our
royal disposal in marriage.--How sayst thou, De Bracy? What thinkst thou
of gaining fair lands and livings, by wedding a Saxon, after the fashion
of the followers of the Conqueror?"

"If the lands are to my liking, my lord," answered De Bracy, "it will be
hard to displease me with a bride; and deeply will I hold myself bound
to your highness for a good deed, which will fulfil all promises made in
favour of your servant and vassal."

"We will not forget it," said Prince John; "and that we may instantly go
to work, command our seneschal presently to order the attendance of the
Lady Rowena and her company--that is, the rude churl her guardian, and
the Saxon ox whom the Black Knight struck down in the tournament, upon
this evening's banquet.--De Bigot," he added to his seneschal, "thou
wilt word this our second summons so courteously, as to gratify the
pride of these Saxons, and make it impossible for them again to refuse;
although, by the bones of Becket, courtesy to them is casting pearls
before swine."

Prince John had proceeded thus far, and was about to give the signal for
retiring from the lists, when a small billet was put into his hand.

"From whence?" said Prince John, looking at the person by whom it was
delivered.

"From foreign parts, my lord, but from whence I know not" replied his
attendant. "A Frenchman brought it hither, who said, he had ridden night
and day to put it into the hands of your highness."

The Prince looked narrowly at the superscription, and then at the
seal, placed so as to secure the flex-silk with which the billet was
surrounded, and which bore the impression of three fleurs-de-lis.
John then opened the billet with apparent agitation, which visibly and
greatly increased when he had perused the contents, which were expressed
in these words:

"Take heed to yourself for the Devil is unchained!"

The Prince turned as pale as death, looked first on the earth, and
then up to heaven, like a man who has received news that sentence of
execution has been passed upon him. Recovering from the first effects of
his surprise, he took Waldemar Fitzurse and De Bracy aside, and put
the billet into their hands successively. "It means," he added, in a
faltering voice, "that my brother Richard has obtained his freedom."

"This may be a false alarm, or a forged letter," said De Bracy.

"It is France's own hand and seal," replied Prince John.

"It is time, then," said Fitzurse, "to draw our party to a head, either
at York, or some other centrical place. A few days later, and it will be
indeed too late. Your highness must break short this present mummery."

"The yeomen and commons," said De Bracy, "must not be dismissed
discontented, for lack of their share in the sports."

"The day," said Waldemar, "is not yet very far spent--let the archers
shoot a few rounds at the target, and the prize be adjudged. This will
be an abundant fulfilment of the Prince's promises, so far as this herd
of Saxon serfs is concerned."

"I thank thee, Waldemar," said the Prince; "thou remindest me, too, that
I have a debt to pay to that insolent peasant who yesterday insulted our
person. Our banquet also shall go forward to-night as we proposed. Were
this my last hour of power, it should be an hour sacred to revenge and
to pleasure--let new cares come with to-morrow's new day."

The sound of the trumpets soon recalled those spectators who had already
begun to leave the field; and proclamation was made that Prince John,
suddenly called by high and peremptory public duties, held himself
obliged to discontinue the entertainments of to-morrow's festival:
Nevertheless, that, unwilling so many good yeoman should depart without
a trial of skill, he was pleased to appoint them, before leaving the
ground, presently to execute the competition of archery intended for
the morrow. To the best archer a prize was to be awarded, being a
bugle-horn, mounted with silver, and a silken baldric richly ornamented
with a medallion of St Hubert, the patron of silvan sport.

More than thirty yeomen at first presented themselves as competitors,
several of whom were rangers and under-keepers in the royal forests of
Needwood and Charnwood. When, however, the archers understood with whom
they were to be matched, upwards of twenty withdrew themselves from the
contest, unwilling to encounter the dishonour of almost certain defeat.
For in those days the skill of each celebrated marksman was as well
known for many miles round him, as the qualities of a horse trained at
Newmarket are familiar to those who frequent that well-known meeting.

The diminished list of competitors for silvan fame still amounted to
eight. Prince John stepped from his royal seat to view more nearly the
persons of these chosen yeomen, several of whom wore the royal livery.
Having satisfied his curiosity by this investigation, he looked for the
object of his resentment, whom he observed standing on the same spot,
and with the same composed countenance which he had exhibited upon the
preceding day.

"Fellow," said Prince John, "I guessed by thy insolent babble that thou
wert no true lover of the longbow, and I see thou darest not adventure
thy skill among such merry-men as stand yonder."

"Under favour, sir," replied the yeoman, "I have another reason for
refraining to shoot, besides the fearing discomfiture and disgrace."

"And what is thy other reason?" said Prince John, who, for some cause
which perhaps he could not himself have explained, felt a painful
curiosity respecting this individual.

"Because," replied the woodsman, "I know not if these yeomen and I are
used to shoot at the same marks; and because, moreover, I know not how
your Grace might relish the winning of a third prize by one who has
unwittingly fallen under your displeasure."

Prince John coloured as he put the question, "What is thy name, yeoman?"

"Locksley," answered the yeoman.

"Then, Locksley," said Prince John, "thou shalt shoot in thy turn, when
these yeomen have displayed their skill. If thou carriest the prize,
I will add to it twenty nobles; but if thou losest it, thou shalt
be stript of thy Lincoln green, and scourged out of the lists with
bowstrings, for a wordy and insolent braggart."

"And how if I refuse to shoot on such a wager?" said the yeoman.--"Your
Grace's power, supported, as it is, by so many men-at-arms, may indeed
easily strip and scourge me, but cannot compel me to bend or to draw my
bow."

"If thou refusest my fair proffer," said the Prince, "the Provost of the
lists shall cut thy bowstring, break thy bow and arrows, and expel thee
from the presence as a faint-hearted craven."

"This is no fair chance you put on me, proud Prince," said the yeoman,
"to compel me to peril myself against the best archers of Leicester And
Staffordshire, under the penalty of infamy if they should overshoot me.
Nevertheless, I will obey your pleasure."

"Look to him close, men-at-arms," said Prince John, "his heart is
sinking; I am jealous lest he attempt to escape the trial.--And do you,
good fellows, shoot boldly round; a buck and a butt of wine are ready
for your refreshment in yonder tent, when the prize is won."

A target was placed at the upper end of the southern avenue which led
to the lists. The contending archers took their station in turn, at the
bottom of the southern access, the distance between that station and the
mark allowing full distance for what was called a shot at rovers. The
archers, having previously determined by lot their order of precedence,
were to shoot each three shafts in succession. The sports were regulated
by an officer of inferior rank, termed the Provost of the Games; for the
high rank of the marshals of the lists would have been held degraded,
had they condescended to superintend the sports of the yeomanry.

One by one the archers, stepping forward, delivered their shafts
yeomanlike and bravely. Of twenty-four arrows, shot in succession,
ten were fixed in the target, and the others ranged so near it, that,
considering the distance of the mark, it was accounted good archery. Of
the ten shafts which hit the target, two within the inner ring were shot
by Hubert, a forester in the service of Malvoisin, who was accordingly
pronounced victorious.

"Now, Locksley," said Prince John to the bold yeoman, with a bitter
smile, "wilt thou try conclusions with Hubert, or wilt thou yield up
bow, baldric, and quiver, to the Provost of the sports?"

"Sith it be no better," said Locksley, "I am content to try my fortune;
on condition that when I have shot two shafts at yonder mark of
Hubert's, he shall be bound to shoot one at that which I shall propose."

"That is but fair," answered Prince John, "and it shall not be refused
thee.--If thou dost beat this braggart, Hubert, I will fill the bugle
with silver-pennies for thee."

"A man can do but his best," answered Hubert; "but my grandsire drew a
good long bow at Hastings, and I trust not to dishonour his memory."

The former target was now removed, and a fresh one of the same size
placed in its room. Hubert, who, as victor in the first trial of skill,
had the right to shoot first, took his aim with great deliberation,
long measuring the distance with his eye, while he held in his hand his
bended bow, with the arrow placed on the string. At length he made a
step forward, and raising the bow at the full stretch of his left arm,
till the centre or grasping-place was nigh level with his face, he
drew his bowstring to his ear. The arrow whistled through the air, and
lighted within the inner ring of the target, but not exactly in the
centre.

"You have not allowed for the wind, Hubert," said his antagonist,
bending his bow, "or that had been a better shot."

So saying, and without showing the least anxiety to pause upon his
aim, Locksley stept to the appointed station, and shot his arrow as
carelessly in appearance as if he had not even looked at the mark. He
was speaking almost at the instant that the shaft left the bowstring,
yet it alighted in the target two inches nearer to the white spot which
marked the centre than that of Hubert.