prompt:
Chapter: 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.

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: The epigraph to this chapter is from Geoffrey Chaucer's "The Knight's Tale," one of his hugely famous Canterbury Tales . Like the earlier John Dryden epigraphs , this passage describes a tournament. The second day of the tournament begins. This is the day of the general battle, when the knights fight in groups against each other. The Disinherited Knight is the leader of one side, having come in first the day before. Bois-Guilbert is the leader of the other side, having come in second the day before. Prince John arrives with his buddies, as do Rowena and Cedric. Cedric's friend Athelstane attaches himself to Bois-Guilbert's party. His reason is that he is jealous that the Disinherited Knight chose Rowena to be tournament Queen the day before. Athelstane believes Rowena is his. Maurice de Bracy and Prince John's other attendants join Bois-Guilbert's band as well. As soon as Rowena is seated on her temporary throne, the heralds announce the rules of the match and the knights file in to the central ring. The battle starts off fast and furious, with the audience watching eagerly. The Disinherited Knight and Bois-Guilbert both keep trying to reach each other, but there are such crowds on the battlefield that they cannot. As people start dropping out of the tournament, the Disinherited Knight and Bois-Guilbert finally face each other. Unluckily for the Disinherited Knight, at just this moment both Reginald Front-de-Boeuf and Athelstane decide to help Bois-Guilbert bring him down. They try to strike at him from both sides, but the audience warns him of the danger. The only thing that saves the Disinherited Knight's life is the strength and agility of his horse, which keeps him away from their sword points. But his horse's maneuvers will only save him for so long. Fortunately, someone from the Disinherited Knight's side intervenes, a man dressed all in black with a black shield. He has multiple nicknames, including the Black Sluggard and the Sable Knight . We will call him the Black Knight. He hasn't been participating too actively in the tournament up until now . But when he sees the Disinherited Knight up against three Normans, he charges to help his captain. The Black Knight knocks out both Reginald Front-de-Boeuf and Athelstane by striking them on the head. The Disinherited Knight charges Bois-Guilbert. Bois-Guilbert's horse has been injured. It collapses under the Disinherited Knight's strength. Prince John signals the end of the battle to save Bois-Guilbert's life. Prince John names the Black Knight the winner of the tournament, even though the Disinherited Knight has defeated six challengers singlehandedly. Weirdly, the Black Knight has completely disappeared from the tournament ground, so Prince John has no choice but to honor the Disinherited Knight. The Disinherited Knight has to kneel before Rowena, as the Queen of the tournament, so she can present him with the ceremonial chaplet . The referees insist that the Disinherited Knight take off his helmet to receive his victory chaplet. He protests, but the referees insist. Once the Disinherited Knight's head is bare, everyone can see that he is a blond guy around 25. Rowena looks startled, but she still crowns him with his victory chaplet. He kisses her hand and then collapses at her feet. The Disinherited Knight is none other than Cedric's long-lost son, Wilfred of Ivanhoe. The referees remove his armor to see that he has a deep wound in his side.


prompt:
Chapter: "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.

"By the light of heaven!" said Prince John to Hubert, "an thou suffer
that runagate knave to overcome thee, thou art worthy of the gallows!"

Hubert had but one set speech for all occasions. "An your highness
were to hang me," he said, "a man can but do his best. Nevertheless, my
grandsire drew a good bow--"

"The foul fiend on thy grandsire and all his generation!" interrupted
John, "shoot, knave, and shoot thy best, or it shall be the worse for
thee!"

Thus exhorted, Hubert resumed his place, and not neglecting the
caution which he had received from his adversary, he made the necessary
allowance for a very light air of wind, which had just arisen, and
shot so successfully that his arrow alighted in the very centre of the
target.

"A Hubert! a Hubert!" shouted the populace, more interested in a known
person than in a stranger. "In the clout!--in the clout!--a Hubert for
ever!"

"Thou canst not mend that shot, Locksley," said the Prince, with an
insulting smile.

"I will notch his shaft for him, however," replied Locksley.

And letting fly his arrow with a little more precaution than before, it
lighted right upon that of his competitor, which it split to shivers.
The people who stood around were so astonished at his wonderful
dexterity, that they could not even give vent to their surprise in their
usual clamour. "This must be the devil, and no man of flesh and blood,"
whispered the yeomen to each other; "such archery was never seen since a
bow was first bent in Britain."

"And now," said Locksley, "I will crave your Grace's permission to plant
such a mark as is used in the North Country; and welcome every brave
yeoman who shall try a shot at it to win a smile from the bonny lass he
loves best."

He then turned to leave the lists. "Let your guards attend me," he said,
"if you please--I go but to cut a rod from the next willow-bush."

Prince John made a signal that some attendants should follow him in
case of his escape: but the cry of "Shame! shame!" which burst from the
multitude, induced him to alter his ungenerous purpose.

Locksley returned almost instantly with a willow wand about six feet in
length, perfectly straight, and rather thicker than a man's thumb. He
began to peel this with great composure, observing at the same time,
that to ask a good woodsman to shoot at a target so broad as had
hitherto been used, was to put shame upon his skill. "For his own part,"
he said, "and in the land where he was bred, men would as soon take for
their mark King Arthur's round-table, which held sixty knights around
it. A child of seven years old," he said, "might hit yonder target with
a headless shaft; but," added he, walking deliberately to the other end
of the lists, and sticking the willow wand upright in the ground, "he
that hits that rod at five-score yards, I call him an archer fit to bear
both bow and quiver before a king, an it were the stout King Richard
himself."

"My grandsire," said Hubert, "drew a good bow at the battle of Hastings,
and never shot at such a mark in his life--and neither will I. If this
yeoman can cleave that rod, I give him the bucklers--or rather, I yield
to the devil that is in his jerkin, and not to any human skill; a man
can but do his best, and I will not shoot where I am sure to miss. I
might as well shoot at the edge of our parson's whittle, or at a wheat
straw, or at a sunbeam, as at a twinkling white streak which I can
hardly see."

"Cowardly dog!" said Prince John.--"Sirrah Locksley, do thou shoot; but,
if thou hittest such a mark, I will say thou art the first man ever
did so. However it be, thou shalt not crow over us with a mere show of
superior skill."

"I will do my best, as Hubert says," answered Locksley; "no man can do
more."

So saying, he again bent his bow, but on the present occasion looked
with attention to his weapon, and changed the string, which he thought
was no longer truly round, having been a little frayed by the two former
shots. He then took his aim with some deliberation, and the multitude
awaited the event in breathless silence. The archer vindicated their
opinion of his skill: his arrow split the willow rod against which it
was aimed. A jubilee of acclamations followed; and even Prince John, in
admiration of Locksley's skill, lost for an instant his dislike to his
person. "These twenty nobles," he said, "which, with the bugle, thou
hast fairly won, are thine own; we will make them fifty, if thou wilt
take livery and service with us as a yeoman of our body guard, and be
near to our person. For never did so strong a hand bend a bow, or so
true an eye direct a shaft."

"Pardon me, noble Prince," said Locksley; "but I have vowed, that if
ever I take service, it should be with your royal brother King Richard.
These twenty nobles I leave to Hubert, who has this day drawn as brave
a bow as his grandsire did at Hastings. Had his modesty not refused the
trial, he would have hit the wand as well I."

Hubert shook his head as he received with reluctance the bounty of the
stranger, and Locksley, anxious to escape further observation, mixed
with the crowd, and was seen no more.

The victorious archer would not perhaps have escaped John's attention
so easily, had not that Prince had other subjects of anxious and more
important meditation pressing upon his mind at that instant. He called
upon his chamberlain as he gave the signal for retiring from the lists,
and commanded him instantly to gallop to Ashby, and seek out Isaac the
Jew. "Tell the dog," he said, "to send me, before sun-down, two thousand
crowns. He knows the security; but thou mayst show him this ring for a
token. The rest of the money must be paid at York within six days. If
he neglects, I will have the unbelieving villain's head. Look that thou
pass him not on the way; for the circumcised slave was displaying his
stolen finery amongst us."

So saying, the Prince resumed his horse, and returned to Ashby, the
whole crowd breaking up and dispersing upon his retreat.

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: Scott claims that the epigraph from this chapter comes from Homer's Iliad, but we find these lines in Book V of the Epigoniad, by a Scottish poet named William Wilkie . The lines describe an archery contest - so guess what this chapter is going to be about? Now that Ivanhoe is back, Prince John sees trouble coming his way. After Ivanhoe's departure to the Holy Land with King Richard, Prince John gave Ivanhoe's castle to his own favorite, Reginald Front-de-Boeuf. Will Front-de-Boeuf have to return his property now? Prince John has also noticed Rowena's distress at Ivanhoe's unexpected return. He thinks it only proper that a beautiful Saxon like her, with many rich lands to her name, should marry a Norman knight of his choosing. Prince John decides that Rowena should marry his good buddy de Bracy. De Bracy adds that he will happily marry anyone with lands that he likes. Prince John orders that Cedric and Athelstane attend his banquet that night. A messenger brings Prince John a letter written and sealed by Philip II of France. It says: "Take heed to yourself, for the Devil is unchained!" . Prince John and his advisors realize that this means King Richard has been set free. He is probably on his way back to England right now! The time has come for Prince John to make his uprising official. But first, the Normans have to finish off the tournament so the common people won't be unhappy. Prince John starts the archery contest. The competitors are down to eight when Prince John spots that yeoman who insulted the Normans in Chapter 7. The yeoman tells Prince John his name: Locksley. Prince John challenges Locksley to participate in the archery contest. If Locksley loses, he'll be whipped. If he wins, he'll get the prize money plus an extra twenty gold pieces. For now the winner of the archery tournament is Hubert, a ranger who works for Philip de Malvoisin. Locksley agrees to shoot at Hubert's target if Hubert will then agree to shoot at a target of Locksley's choosing. Locksley wins, of course. Then Locksley cuts a willow rod and stands it at one end of the tournament field. He challenges Hubert to hit that rod. Hubert is certain that he cannot. Locksley splits the willow rod with his arrow, and everyone applauds his skill as an archer. Prince John hands Locksley his prize money and offers Locksley a job. Locksley refuses. He wants to work for King Richard. Locksley also gives the twenty gold coins in prize money to Hubert and then disappears. Prince John lets him go because he has other things to worry about. He sends one of his men after Isaac of York. He demands two thousand crowns , or else he is going to cut Isaac's head off.


prompt:
Chapter: In rough magnificence array'd,
     When ancient Chivalry display'd
     The pomp of her heroic games,
     And crested chiefs and tissued dames
     Assembled, at the clarion's call,
     In some proud castle's high arch'd hall.
     --Warton

Prince John held his high festival in the Castle of Ashby. This was
not the same building of which the stately ruins still interest the
traveller, and which was erected at a later period by the Lord Hastings,
High Chamberlain of England, one of the first victims of the tyranny
of Richard the Third, and yet better known as one of Shakspeare's
characters than by his historical fame. The castle and town of Ashby, at
this time, belonged to Roger de Quincy, Earl of Winchester, who, during
the period of our history, was absent in the Holy Land. Prince John, in
the meanwhile, occupied his castle, and disposed of his domains without
scruple; and seeking at present to dazzle men's eyes by his hospitality
and magnificence, had given orders for great preparations, in order to
render the banquet as splendid as possible.

The purveyors of the Prince, who exercised on this and other occasions
the full authority of royalty, had swept the country of all that could
be collected which was esteemed fit for their master's table. Guests
also were invited in great numbers; and in the necessity in which he
then found himself of courting popularity, Prince John had extended his
invitation to a few distinguished Saxon and Danish families, as well as
to the Norman nobility and gentry of the neighbourhood. However
despised and degraded on ordinary occasions, the great numbers of
the Anglo-Saxons must necessarily render them formidable in the civil
commotions which seemed approaching, and it was an obvious point of
policy to secure popularity with their leaders.

It was accordingly the Prince's intention, which he for some time
maintained, to treat these unwonted guests with a courtesy to which they
had been little accustomed. But although no man with less scruple
made his ordinary habits and feelings bend to his interest, it was
the misfortune of this Prince, that his levity and petulance were
perpetually breaking out, and undoing all that had been gained by his
previous dissimulation.

Of this fickle temper he gave a memorable example in Ireland, when sent
thither by his father, Henry the Second, with the purpose of buying
golden opinions of the inhabitants of that new and important acquisition
to the English crown. Upon this occasion the Irish chieftains contended
which should first offer to the young Prince their loyal homage and
the kiss of peace. But, instead of receiving their salutations with
courtesy, John and his petulant attendants could not resist the
temptation of pulling the long beards of the Irish chieftains; a
conduct which, as might have been expected, was highly resented by these
insulted dignitaries, and produced fatal consequences to the English
domination in Ireland. It is necessary to keep these inconsistencies
of John's character in view, that the reader may understand his conduct
during the present evening.

In execution of the resolution which he had formed during his cooler
moments, Prince John received Cedric and Athelstane with distinguished
courtesy, and expressed his disappointment, without resentment, when the
indisposition of Rowena was alleged by the former as a reason for her
not attending upon his gracious summons. Cedric and Athelstane were both
dressed in the ancient Saxon garb, which, although not unhandsome in
itself, and in the present instance composed of costly materials, was
so remote in shape and appearance from that of the other guests, that
Prince John took great credit to himself with Waldemar Fitzurse for
refraining from laughter at a sight which the fashion of the day
rendered ridiculous. Yet, in the eye of sober judgment, the short close
tunic and long mantle of the Saxons was a more graceful, as well as a
more convenient dress, than the garb of the Normans, whose under garment
was a long doublet, so loose as to resemble a shirt or waggoner's frock,
covered by a cloak of scanty dimensions, neither fit to defend the
wearer from cold or from rain, and the only purpose of which appeared
to be to display as much fur, embroidery, and jewellery work, as the
ingenuity of the tailor could contrive to lay upon it. The Emperor
Charlemagne, in whose reign they were first introduced, seems to have
been very sensible of the inconveniences arising from the fashion of
this garment. "In Heaven's name," said he, "to what purpose serve these
abridged cloaks? If we are in bed they are no cover, on horseback they
are no protection from the wind and rain, and when seated, they do not
guard our legs from the damp or the frost."

Nevertheless, spite of this imperial objurgation, the short cloaks
continued in fashion down to the time of which we treat, and
particularly among the princes of the House of Anjou. They were
therefore in universal use among Prince John's courtiers; and the
long mantle, which formed the upper garment of the Saxons, was held in
proportional derision.

The guests were seated at a table which groaned under the quantity of
good cheer. The numerous cooks who attended on the Prince's progress,
having exerted all their art in varying the forms in which the ordinary
provisions were served up, had succeeded almost as well as the modern
professors of the culinary art in rendering them perfectly unlike their
natural appearance. Besides these dishes of domestic origin, there were
various delicacies brought from foreign parts, and a quantity of rich
pastry, as well as of the simnel-bread and wastle cakes, which were only
used at the tables of the highest nobility. The banquet was crowned with
the richest wines, both foreign and domestic.

But, though luxurious, the Norman nobles were not generally speaking
an intemperate race. While indulging themselves in the pleasures of
the table, they aimed at delicacy, but avoided excess, and were apt to
attribute gluttony and drunkenness to the vanquished Saxons, as vices
peculiar to their inferior station. Prince John, indeed, and those who
courted his pleasure by imitating his foibles, were apt to indulge to
excess in the pleasures of the trencher and the goblet; and indeed it is
well known that his death was occasioned by a surfeit upon peaches and
new ale. His conduct, however, was an exception to the general manners
of his countrymen.

With sly gravity, interrupted only by private signs to each other, the
Norman knights and nobles beheld the ruder demeanour of Athelstane
and Cedric at a banquet, to the form and fashion of which they were
unaccustomed. And while their manners were thus the subject of sarcastic
observation, the untaught Saxons unwittingly transgressed several of the
arbitrary rules established for the regulation of society. Now, it is
well known, that a man may with more impunity be guilty of an actual
breach either of real good breeding or of good morals, than appear
ignorant of the most minute point of fashionable etiquette. Thus Cedric,
who dried his hands with a towel, instead of suffering the moisture to
exhale by waving them gracefully in the air, incurred more ridicule than
his companion Athelstane, when he swallowed to his own single share
the whole of a large pasty composed of the most exquisite foreign
delicacies, and termed at that time a "Karum-Pie". When, however, it
was discovered, by a serious cross-examination, that the Thane of
Coningsburgh (or Franklin, as the Normans termed him) had no idea
what he had been devouring, and that he had taken the contents of the
Karum-pie for larks and pigeons, whereas they were in fact beccaficoes
and nightingales, his ignorance brought him in for an ample share of the
ridicule which would have been more justly bestowed on his gluttony.

The long feast had at length its end; and, while the goblet circulated
freely, men talked of the feats of the preceding tournament,--of
the unknown victor in the archery games, of the Black Knight, whose
self-denial had induced him to withdraw from the honours he had
won,--and of the gallant Ivanhoe, who had so dearly bought the honours
of the day. The topics were treated with military frankness, and the
jest and laugh went round the hall. The brow of Prince John alone was
overclouded during these discussions; some overpowering care seemed
agitating his mind, and it was only when he received occasional hints
from his attendants, that he seemed to take interest in what was passing
around him. On such occasions he would start up, quaff a cup of wine
as if to raise his spirits, and then mingle in the conversation by some
observation made abruptly or at random.

"We drink this beaker," said he, "to the health of Wilfred of Ivanhoe,
champion of this Passage of Arms, and grieve that his wound renders him
absent from our board--Let all fill to the pledge, and especially Cedric
of Rotherwood, the worthy father of a son so promising."

"No, my lord," replied Cedric, standing up, and placing on the table his
untasted cup, "I yield not the name of son to the disobedient youth, who
at once despises my commands, and relinquishes the manners and customs
of his fathers."

"'Tis impossible," cried Prince John, with well-feigned astonishment,
"that so gallant a knight should be an unworthy or disobedient son!"

"Yet, my lord," answered Cedric, "so it is with this Wilfred. He left my
homely dwelling to mingle with the gay nobility of your brother's court,
where he learned to do those tricks of horsemanship which you prize so
highly. He left it contrary to my wish and command; and in the days
of Alfred that would have been termed disobedience--ay, and a crime
severely punishable."

"Alas!" replied Prince John, with a deep sigh of affected sympathy,
"since your son was a follower of my unhappy brother, it need not
be enquired where or from whom he learned the lesson of filial
disobedience."

Thus spake Prince John, wilfully forgetting, that of all the sons of
Henry the Second, though no one was free from the charge, he himself had
been most distinguished for rebellion and ingratitude to his father.

"I think," said he, after a moment's pause, "that my brother proposed to
confer upon his favourite the rich manor of Ivanhoe."

"He did endow him with it," answered Cedric; "nor is it my least quarrel
with my son, that he stooped to hold, as a feudal vassal, the very
domains which his fathers possessed in free and independent right."

"We shall then have your willing sanction, good Cedric," said Prince
John, "to confer this fief upon a person whose dignity will not
be diminished by holding land of the British crown.--Sir Reginald
Front-de-Boeuf," he said, turning towards that Baron, "I trust you will
so keep the goodly Barony of Ivanhoe, that Sir Wilfred shall not incur
his father's farther displeasure by again entering upon that fief."

"By St Anthony!" answered the black-brow'd giant, "I will consent that
your highness shall hold me a Saxon, if either Cedric or Wilfred, or the
best that ever bore English blood, shall wrench from me the gift with
which your highness has graced me."

"Whoever shall call thee Saxon, Sir Baron," replied Cedric, offended
at a mode of expression by which the Normans frequently expressed their
habitual contempt of the English, "will do thee an honour as great as it
is undeserved."

Front-de-Boeuf would have replied, but Prince John's petulance and
levity got the start.

"Assuredly," said be, "my lords, the noble Cedric speaks truth; and
his race may claim precedence over us as much in the length of their
pedigrees as in the longitude of their cloaks."

"They go before us indeed in the field--as deer before dogs," said
Malvoisin.

"And with good right may they go before us--forget not," said the Prior
Aymer, "the superior decency and decorum of their manners."

"Their singular abstemiousness and temperance," said De Bracy,
forgetting the plan which promised him a Saxon bride.

"Together with the courage and conduct," said Brian de Bois-Guilbert,
"by which they distinguished themselves at Hastings and elsewhere."

While, with smooth and smiling cheek, the courtiers, each in turn,
followed their Prince's example, and aimed a shaft of ridicule at
Cedric, the face of the Saxon became inflamed with passion, and
he glanced his eyes fiercely from one to another, as if the quick
succession of so many injuries had prevented his replying to them in
turn; or, like a baited bull, who, surrounded by his tormentors, is at
a loss to choose from among them the immediate object of his revenge.
At length he spoke, in a voice half choked with passion; and, addressing
himself to Prince John as the head and front of the offence which he had
received, "Whatever," he said, "have been the follies and vices of our
race, a Saxon would have been held 'nidering'," [21] (the most emphatic
term for abject worthlessness,) "who should in his own hall, and while
his own wine-cup passed, have treated, or suffered to be treated, an
unoffending guest as your highness has this day beheld me used; and
whatever was the misfortune of our fathers on the field of Hastings,
those may at least be silent," here he looked at Front-de-Boeuf and the
Templar, "who have within these few hours once and again lost saddle and
stirrup before the lance of a Saxon."

"By my faith, a biting jest!" said Prince John. "How like you it,
sirs?--Our Saxon subjects rise in spirit and courage; become shrewd
in wit, and bold in bearing, in these unsettled times--What say ye,
my lords?--By this good light, I hold it best to take our galleys, and
return to Normandy in time."

"For fear of the Saxons?" said De Bracy, laughing; "we should need no
weapon but our hunting spears to bring these boars to bay."

"A truce with your raillery, Sir Knights," said Fitzurse;--"and it
were well," he added, addressing the Prince, "that your highness should
assure the worthy Cedric there is no insult intended him by jests, which
must sound but harshly in the ear of a stranger."

"Insult?" answered Prince John, resuming his courtesy of demeanour; "I
trust it will not be thought that I could mean, or permit any, to be
offered in my presence. Here! I fill my cup to Cedric himself, since he
refuses to pledge his son's health."

The cup went round amid the well-dissembled applause of the courtiers,
which, however, failed to make the impression on the mind of the Saxon
that had been designed. He was not naturally acute of perception,
but those too much undervalued his understanding who deemed that this
flattering compliment would obliterate the sense of the prior insult. He
was silent, however, when the royal pledge again passed round, "To Sir
Athelstane of Coningsburgh."

The knight made his obeisance, and showed his sense of the honour by
draining a huge goblet in answer to it.

"And now, sirs," said Prince John, who began to be warmed with the wine
which he had drank, "having done justice to our Saxon guests, we
will pray of them some requital to our courtesy.--Worthy Thane," he
continued, addressing Cedric, "may we pray you to name to us some Norman
whose mention may least sully your mouth, and to wash down with a goblet
of wine all bitterness which the sound may leave behind it?"

Fitzurse arose while Prince John spoke, and gliding behind the seat of
the Saxon, whispered to him not to omit the opportunity of putting an
end to unkindness betwixt the two races, by naming Prince John. The
Saxon replied not to this politic insinuation, but, rising up, and
filling his cup to the brim, he addressed Prince John in these words:
"Your highness has required that I should name a Norman deserving to
be remembered at our banquet. This, perchance, is a hard task, since
it calls on the slave to sing the praises of the master--upon the
vanquished, while pressed by all the evils of conquest, to sing the
praises of the conqueror. Yet I will name a Norman--the first in arms
and in place--the best and the noblest of his race. And the lips that
shall refuse to pledge me to his well-earned fame, I term false and
dishonoured, and will so maintain them with my life.--I quaff this
goblet to the health of Richard the Lion-hearted!"

Prince John, who had expected that his own name would have closed
the Saxon's speech, started when that of his injured brother was so
unexpectedly introduced. He raised mechanically the wine-cup to his
lips, then instantly set it down, to view the demeanour of the company
at this unexpected proposal, which many of them felt it as unsafe
to oppose as to comply with. Some of them, ancient and experienced
courtiers, closely imitated the example of the Prince himself, raising
the goblet to their lips, and again replacing it before them. There
were many who, with a more generous feeling, exclaimed, "Long live King
Richard! and may he be speedily restored to us!" And some few, among
whom were Front-de-Boeuf and the Templar, in sullen disdain suffered
their goblets to stand untasted before them. But no man ventured
directly to gainsay a pledge filled to the health of the reigning
monarch.

Having enjoyed his triumph for about a minute, Cedric said to his
companion, "Up, noble Athelstane! we have remained here long enough,
since we have requited the hospitable courtesy of Prince John's banquet.
Those who wish to know further of our rude Saxon manners must henceforth
seek us in the homes of our fathers, since we have seen enough of royal
banquets, and enough of Norman courtesy."

So saying, he arose and left the banqueting room, followed by
Athelstane, and by several other guests, who, partaking of the Saxon
lineage, held themselves insulted by the sarcasms of Prince John and his
courtiers.

"By the bones of St Thomas," said Prince John, as they retreated, "the
Saxon churls have borne off the best of the day, and have retreated with
triumph!"

"'Conclamatum est, poculatum est'," said Prior Aymer; "we have drunk and
we have shouted,--it were time we left our wine flagons."

"The monk hath some fair penitent to shrive to-night, that he is in such
a hurry to depart," said De Bracy.

"Not so, Sir Knight," replied the Abbot; "but I must move several miles
forward this evening upon my homeward journey."

"They are breaking up," said the Prince in a whisper to Fitzurse; "their
fears anticipate the event, and this coward Prior is the first to shrink
from me."

"Fear not, my lord," said Waldemar; "I will show him such reasons as
shall induce him to join us when we hold our meeting at York.--Sir
Prior," he said, "I must speak with you in private, before you mount
your palfrey."

The other guests were now fast dispersing, with the exception of those
immediately attached to Prince John's faction, and his retinue.

"This, then, is the result of your advice," said the Prince, turning
an angry countenance upon Fitzurse; "that I should be bearded at my
own board by a drunken Saxon churl, and that, on the mere sound of my
brother's name, men should fall off from me as if I had the leprosy?"

"Have patience, sir," replied his counsellor; "I might retort your
accusation, and blame the inconsiderate levity which foiled my
design, and misled your own better judgment. But this is no time for
recrimination. De Bracy and I will instantly go among these shuffling
cowards, and convince them they have gone too far to recede."

"It will be in vain," said Prince John, pacing the apartment with
disordered steps, and expressing himself with an agitation to which the
wine he had drank partly contributed--"It will be in vain--they have
seen the handwriting on the wall--they have marked the paw of the
lion in the sand--they have heard his approaching roar shake the
wood--nothing will reanimate their courage."

"Would to God," said Fitzurse to De Bracy, "that aught could reanimate
his own! His brother's very name is an ague to him. Unhappy are the
counsellors of a Prince, who wants fortitude and perseverance alike in
good and in evil!"

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: Before this chapter we get the first six lines of Thomas Warton's 1787 poem "Ode XVIII to a New Year." Like all the other recent chapter epigraphs, this one is also a medieval-themed poem about knights and ladies gathering together. In this case, they are meeting up at a great hall. It's time for a feast. Prince John holds his feast at the castle at Ashby. The real owner of the castle is in the Holy Land, so Prince John feels free to use it as though it's his own. The prince doesn't want to offend the Anglo-Saxons because there are so many of them. He plans to host Cedric and Athelstane in better style than they have ever seen before. It's unfortunate that Prince John always offends people when he most wants to please them. After the feast, talk turns to the tournament. Prince John proposes a toast to Wilfred of Ivanhoe, the tournament winner. Cedric starts going off on his disobedient son, who went off to the Crusades with Norman King Richard against the orders of his own father. Prince John pounces on Cedric's anger at his son. He turns to Reginald Front-de-Boeuf and says: Well, Front-de-Boeuf, why don't you keep Ivanhoe's castle and lands so poor Cedric doesn't have to see his ungrateful son in the neighborhood? Front-de-Boeuf happily agrees: he wasn't going to give the castle back to a Saxon anyway. This inspires a whole round of anti-Saxon jokes that really set Cedric's blood boiling. Cedric accuses Prince John of being a poor host and points out that a Saxon won the tournament that day. Prince John drinks a toast to Cedric, but Cedric is still riled. Prince John asks Cedric to pick at least one worthy Norman for them to drink to. Prince John's advisor, Waldemar Fitzurse, whispers to Cedric that he should choose Prince John. But Cedric declares that he will drink to King Richard I, "the best and noblest of his race" . Prince John is clearly not pleased at this toast, though he doesn't protest aloud. Cedric and Athelstane leave. Prince John notices that his other guests leave soon after the Saxons. Prince John worries that the Normans see him as weak and that this confrontation at his own feast has led them to lose confidence in him. De Bracy and Waldemar Fitzurse promise to convince the Normans to support Prince John. Fitzurse worries that Prince John is losing hope in his own rebellion.


prompt:
Chapter: And yet he thinks,--ha, ha, ha, ha,--he thinks
     I am the tool and servant of his will.
     Well, let it be; through all the maze of trouble
     His plots and base oppression must create,
     I'll shape myself a way to higher things,
     And who will say 'tis wrong?
     --Basil, a Tragedy

No spider ever took more pains to repair the shattered meshes of his
web, than did Waldemar Fitzurse to reunite and combine the scattered
members of Prince John's cabal. Few of these were attached to him from
inclination, and none from personal regard. It was therefore necessary,
that Fitzurse should open to them new prospects of advantage, and remind
them of those which they at present enjoyed. To the young and wild
nobles, he held out the prospect of unpunished license and uncontrolled
revelry; to the ambitious, that of power, and to the covetous, that of
increased wealth and extended domains. The leaders of the mercenaries
received a donation in gold; an argument the most persuasive to their
minds, and without which all others would have proved in vain. Promises
were still more liberally distributed than money by this active agent;
and, in fine, nothing was left undone that could determine the wavering,
or animate the disheartened. The return of King Richard he spoke of
as an event altogether beyond the reach of probability; yet, when
he observed, from the doubtful looks and uncertain answers which he
received, that this was the apprehension by which the minds of his
accomplices were most haunted, he boldly treated that event, should
it really take place, as one which ought not to alter their political
calculations.

"If Richard returns," said Fitzurse, "he returns to enrich his needy and
impoverished crusaders at the expense of those who did not follow him
to the Holy Land. He returns to call to a fearful reckoning, those who,
during his absence, have done aught that can be construed offence or
encroachment upon either the laws of the land or the privileges of
the crown. He returns to avenge upon the Orders of the Temple and the
Hospital, the preference which they showed to Philip of France during
the wars in the Holy Land. He returns, in fine, to punish as a rebel
every adherent of his brother Prince John. Are ye afraid of his power?"
continued the artful confident of that Prince, "we acknowledge him a
strong and valiant knight; but these are not the days of King Arthur,
when a champion could encounter an army. If Richard indeed comes back,
it must be alone,--unfollowed--unfriended. The bones of his gallant army
have whitened the sands of Palestine. The few of his followers who have
returned have straggled hither like this Wilfred of Ivanhoe, beggared
and broken men.--And what talk ye of Richard's right of birth?" he
proceeded, in answer to those who objected scruples on that head. "Is
Richard's title of primogeniture more decidedly certain than that of
Duke Robert of Normandy, the Conqueror's eldest son? And yet William
the Red, and Henry, his second and third brothers, were successively
preferred to him by the voice of the nation, Robert had every merit
which can be pleaded for Richard; he was a bold knight, a good leader,
generous to his friends and to the church, and, to crown the whole, a
crusader and a conqueror of the Holy Sepulchre; and yet he died a blind
and miserable prisoner in the Castle of Cardiff, because he opposed
himself to the will of the people, who chose that he should not rule
over them. It is our right," he said, "to choose from the blood royal
the prince who is best qualified to hold the supreme power--that is,"
said he, correcting himself, "him whose election will best promote the
interests of the nobility. In personal qualifications," he added, "it
was possible that Prince John might be inferior to his brother Richard;
but when it was considered that the latter returned with the sword of
vengeance in his hand, while the former held out rewards, immunities,
privileges, wealth, and honours, it could not be doubted which was the
king whom in wisdom the nobility were called on to support."

These, and many more arguments, some adapted to the peculiar
circumstances of those whom he addressed, had the expected weight with
the nobles of Prince John's faction. Most of them consented to attend
the proposed meeting at York, for the purpose of making general
arrangements for placing the crown upon the head of Prince John.

It was late at night, when, worn out and exhausted with his various
exertions, however gratified with the result, Fitzurse, returning to
the Castle of Ashby, met with De Bracy, who had exchanged his banqueting
garments for a short green kirtle, with hose of the same cloth and
colour, a leathern cap or head-piece, a short sword, a horn slung over
his shoulder, a long bow in his hand, and a bundle of arrows stuck in
his belt. Had Fitzurse met this figure in an outer apartment, he would
have passed him without notice, as one of the yeomen of the guard; but
finding him in the inner hall, he looked at him with more attention, and
recognised the Norman knight in the dress of an English yeoman.

"What mummery is this, De Bracy?" said Fitzurse, somewhat angrily; "is
this a time for Christmas gambols and quaint maskings, when the fate of
our master, Prince John, is on the very verge of decision? Why hast thou
not been, like me, among these heartless cravens, whom the very name
of King Richard terrifies, as it is said to do the children of the
Saracens?"

"I have been attending to mine own business," answered De Bracy calmly,
"as you, Fitzurse, have been minding yours."

"I minding mine own business!" echoed Waldemar; "I have been engaged in
that of Prince John, our joint patron."

"As if thou hadst any other reason for that, Waldemar," said De Bracy,
"than the promotion of thine own individual interest? Come, Fitzurse,
we know each other--ambition is thy pursuit, pleasure is mine, and they
become our different ages. Of Prince John thou thinkest as I do; that
he is too weak to be a determined monarch, too tyrannical to be an easy
monarch, too insolent and presumptuous to be a popular monarch, and too
fickle and timid to be long a monarch of any kind. But he is a monarch
by whom Fitzurse and De Bracy hope to rise and thrive; and therefore you
aid him with your policy, and I with the lances of my Free Companions."

"A hopeful auxiliary," said Fitzurse impatiently; "playing the fool in
the very moment of utter necessity.--What on earth dost thou purpose by
this absurd disguise at a moment so urgent?"

"To get me a wife," answered De Bracy coolly, "after the manner of the
tribe of Benjamin."

"The tribe of Benjamin?" said Fitzurse; "I comprehend thee not."

"Wert thou not in presence yester-even," said De Bracy, "when we heard
the Prior Aymer tell us a tale in reply to the romance which was sung by
the Minstrel?--He told how, long since in Palestine, a deadly feud arose
between the tribe of Benjamin and the rest of the Israelitish nation;
and how they cut to pieces well-nigh all the chivalry of that tribe; and
how they swore by our blessed Lady, that they would not permit those
who remained to marry in their lineage; and how they became grieved for
their vow, and sent to consult his holiness the Pope how they might be
absolved from it; and how, by the advice of the Holy Father, the youth
of the tribe of Benjamin carried off from a superb tournament all the
ladies who were there present, and thus won them wives without the
consent either of their brides or their brides' families."

"I have heard the story," said Fitzurse, "though either the Prior or
thou has made some singular alterations in date and circumstances."

"I tell thee," said De Bracy, "that I mean to purvey me a wife after the
fashion of the tribe of Benjamin; which is as much as to say, that in
this same equipment I will fall upon that herd of Saxon bullocks, who
have this night left the castle, and carry off from them the lovely
Rowena."

"Art thou mad, De Bracy?" said Fitzurse. "Bethink thee that, though the
men be Saxons, they are rich and powerful, and regarded with the more
respect by their countrymen, that wealth and honour are but the lot of
few of Saxon descent."

"And should belong to none," said De Bracy; "the work of the Conquest
should be completed."

"This is no time for it at least," said Fitzurse "the approaching crisis
renders the favour of the multitude indispensable, and Prince John
cannot refuse justice to any one who injures their favourites."

"Let him grant it, if he dare," said De Bracy; "he will soon see the
difference betwixt the support of such a lusty lot of spears as mine,
and that of a heartless mob of Saxon churls. Yet I mean no immediate
discovery of myself. Seem I not in this garb as bold a forester as ever
blew horn? The blame of the violence shall rest with the outlaws of the
Yorkshire forests. I have sure spies on the Saxon's motions--To-night
they sleep in the convent of Saint Wittol, or Withold, or whatever they
call that churl of a Saxon Saint at Burton-on-Trent. Next day's march
brings them within our reach, and, falcon-ways, we swoop on them
at once. Presently after I will appear in mine own shape, play the
courteous knight, rescue the unfortunate and afflicted fair one from the
hands of the rude ravishers, conduct her to Front-de-Boeuf's Castle, or
to Normandy, if it should be necessary, and produce her not again to her
kindred until she be the bride and dame of Maurice de Bracy."

"A marvellously sage plan," said Fitzurse, "and, as I think, not
entirely of thine own device.--Come, be frank, De Bracy, who aided
thee in the invention? and who is to assist in the execution? for, as I
think, thine own band lies as far off as York."

"Marry, if thou must needs know," said De Bracy, "it was the Templar
Brian de Bois-Guilbert that shaped out the enterprise, which the
adventure of the men of Benjamin suggested to me. He is to aid me in
the onslaught, and he and his followers will personate the outlaws, from
whom my valorous arm is, after changing my garb, to rescue the lady."

"By my halidome," said Fitzurse, "the plan was worthy of your united
wisdom! and thy prudence, De Bracy, is most especially manifested in the
project of leaving the lady in the hands of thy worthy confederate. Thou
mayst, I think, succeed in taking her from her Saxon friends, but how
thou wilt rescue her afterwards from the clutches of Bois-Guilbert seems
considerably more doubtful--He is a falcon well accustomed to pounce on
a partridge, and to hold his prey fast."

"He is a Templar," said De Bracy, "and cannot therefore rival me in
my plan of wedding this heiress;--and to attempt aught dishonourable
against the intended bride of De Bracy--By Heaven! were he a whole
Chapter of his Order in his single person, he dared not do me such an
injury!"

"Then since nought that I can say," said Fitzurse, "will put this
folly from thy imagination, (for well I know the obstinacy of thy
disposition,) at least waste as little time as possible--let not thy
folly be lasting as well as untimely."

"I tell thee," answered De Bracy, "that it will be the work of a few
hours, and I shall be at York--at the head of my daring and valorous
fellows, as ready to support any bold design as thy policy can be to
form one.--But I hear my comrades assembling, and the steeds stamping
and neighing in the outer court.--Farewell.--I go, like a true knight,
to win the smiles of beauty."

"Like a true knight?" repeated Fitzurse, looking after him; "like a
fool, I should say, or like a child, who will leave the most serious and
needful occupation, to chase the down of the thistle that drives
past him.--But it is with such tools that I must work;--and for whose
advantage?--For that of a Prince as unwise as he is profligate, and as
likely to be an ungrateful master as he has already proved a rebellious
son and an unnatural brother.--But he--he, too, is but one of the tools
with which I labour; and, proud as he is, should he presume to separate
his interest from mine, this is a secret which he shall soon learn."

The meditations of the statesman were here interrupted by the voice
of the Prince from an interior apartment, calling out, "Noble Waldemar
Fitzurse!" and, with bonnet doffed, the future Chancellor (for to such
high preferment did the wily Norman aspire) hastened to receive the
orders of the future sovereign.

Q: Can you write an appropriate summary of the above paragraphs?
A:

completion: The epigraph for this chapter is from a play called Count Basil: A Tragedy , by Joanna Baillie. The speaker of these lines, Minister Gaureicie, is technically a servant, but he's really an evil mastermind exploiting his master for his own ambitions. In other words, this passage indicates that we are about to find out more about Waldemar Fitzurse, Prince John's advisor. Waldemar Fitzurse goes to Prince John's friends to reassure them that Prince John is worth supporting. Fitzurse admits that Richard is a bold, impressive king. But he has destroyed his own army with his failed Crusade. He is returning to England a beaten man, as one person against a whole band of Normans. It is the right of the Norman lords to choose who their leader should be. Fitzurse meets with de Bracy one evening. De Bracy is dressed like a Saxon yeoman with a bow and a quiver full of arrows. Fitzurse is annoyed that de Bracy isn't helping him with his pro-Prince John campaign. But de Bracy has his own priorities: he's trying to get himself a wife. Rowena and Cedric are spending the night away from home, at a convent in a nearby town. De Bracy plans to stage an ambush and steal Rowena away. Then he will reappear in his usual knight's outfit and rescue her from danger. He will carry her to Front-de-Boeuf's headquarters at Torquilstone Castle and keep her until she becomes his wife. De Bracy admits that he didn't come up with this plan: Bois-Guilbert will help him with the ambush. Fitzurse thinks this plan is deeply stupid, but he doesn't bother to try to stop de Bracy. De Bracy heads off to carry out his horrible plan. Fitzurse shakes his head over the stupidity of the people around him - up to and including Prince John.