prompt:
Chapter: Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more,
     Or, close the wall up with our English dead.
     -------And you, good yeomen,
     Whose limbs were made in England, show us here
     The mettle of your pasture--let us swear
     That you are worth your breeding.
     King Henry V

Cedric, although not greatly confident in Ulrica's message, omitted not
to communicate her promise to the Black Knight and Locksley. They were
well pleased to find they had a friend within the place, who might, in
the moment of need, be able to facilitate their entrance, and readily
agreed with the Saxon that a storm, under whatever disadvantages, ought
to be attempted, as the only means of liberating the prisoners now in
the hands of the cruel Front-de-Boeuf.

"The royal blood of Alfred is endangered," said Cedric.

"The honour of a noble lady is in peril," said the Black Knight.

"And, by the Saint Christopher at my baldric," said the good yeoman,
"were there no other cause than the safety of that poor faithful knave,
Wamba, I would jeopard a joint ere a hair of his head were hurt."

"And so would I," said the Friar; "what, sirs! I trust well that a
fool--I mean, d'ye see me, sirs, a fool that is free of his guild and
master of his craft, and can give as much relish and flavour to a cup of
wine as ever a flitch of bacon can--I say, brethren, such a fool shall
never want a wise clerk to pray for or fight for him at a strait, while
I can say a mass or flourish a partisan." And with that he made his
heavy halberd to play around his head as a shepherd boy flourishes his
light crook.

"True, Holy Clerk," said the Black Knight, "true as if Saint Dunstan
himself had said it.--And now, good Locksley, were it not well that
noble Cedric should assume the direction of this assault?"

"Not a jot I," returned Cedric; "I have never been wont to study either
how to take or how to hold out those abodes of tyrannic power, which
the Normans have erected in this groaning land. I will fight among the
foremost; but my honest neighbours well know I am not a trained soldier
in the discipline of wars, or the attack of strongholds."

"Since it stands thus with noble Cedric," said Locksley, "I am most
willing to take on me the direction of the archery; and ye shall hang
me up on my own Trysting-tree, an the defenders be permitted to show
themselves over the walls without being stuck with as many shafts as
there are cloves in a gammon of bacon at Christmas."

"Well said, stout yeoman," answered the Black Knight; "and if I be
thought worthy to have a charge in these matters, and can find among
these brave men as many as are willing to follow a true English knight,
for so I may surely call myself, I am ready, with such skill as my
experience has taught me, to lead them to the attack of these walls."

The parts being thus distributed to the leaders, they commenced the
first assault, of which the reader has already heard the issue.

When the barbican was carried, the Sable Knight sent notice of the
happy event to Locksley, requesting him at the same time, to keep such
a strict observation on the castle as might prevent the defenders from
combining their force for a sudden sally, and recovering the outwork
which they had lost. This the knight was chiefly desirous of avoiding,
conscious that the men whom he led, being hasty and untrained
volunteers, imperfectly armed and unaccustomed to discipline, must, upon
any sudden attack, fight at great disadvantage with the veteran soldiers
of the Norman knights, who were well provided with arms both defensive
and offensive; and who, to match the zeal and high spirit of the
besiegers, had all the confidence which arises from perfect discipline
and the habitual use of weapons.

The knight employed the interval in causing to be constructed a sort of
floating bridge, or long raft, by means of which he hoped to cross the
moat in despite of the resistance of the enemy. This was a work of some
time, which the leaders the less regretted, as it gave Ulrica leisure to
execute her plan of diversion in their favour, whatever that might be.

When the raft was completed, the Black Knight addressed the
besiegers:--"It avails not waiting here longer, my friends; the sun is
descending to the west--and I have that upon my hands which will not
permit me to tarry with you another day. Besides, it will be a marvel if
the horsemen come not upon us from York, unless we speedily accomplish
our purpose. Wherefore, one of ye go to Locksley, and bid him commence a
discharge of arrows on the opposite side of the castle, and move forward
as if about to assault it; and you, true English hearts, stand by me,
and be ready to thrust the raft endlong over the moat whenever the
postern on our side is thrown open. Follow me boldly across, and aid me
to burst yon sallyport in the main wall of the castle. As many of you as
like not this service, or are but ill armed to meet it, do you man the
top of the outwork, draw your bow-strings to your ears, and mind you
quell with your shot whatever shall appear to man the rampart--Noble
Cedric, wilt thou take the direction of those which remain?"

"Not so, by the soul of Hereward!" said the Saxon; "lead I cannot; but
may posterity curse me in my grave, if I follow not with the foremost
wherever thou shalt point the way--The quarrel is mine, and well it
becomes me to be in the van of the battle."

"Yet, bethink thee, noble Saxon," said the knight, "thou hast neither
hauberk, nor corslet, nor aught but that light helmet, target, and
sword."

"The better!" answered Cedric; "I shall be the lighter to climb these
walls. And,--forgive the boast, Sir Knight,--thou shalt this day see
the naked breast of a Saxon as boldly presented to the battle as ever ye
beheld the steel corslet of a Norman."

"In the name of God, then," said the knight, "fling open the door, and
launch the floating bridge."

The portal, which led from the inner-wall of the barbican to the moat,
and which corresponded with a sallyport in the main wall of the castle,
was now suddenly opened; the temporary bridge was then thrust forward,
and soon flashed in the waters, extending its length between the castle
and outwork, and forming a slippery and precarious passage for two men
abreast to cross the moat. Well aware of the importance of taking the
foe by surprise, the Black Knight, closely followed by Cedric, threw
himself upon the bridge, and reached the opposite side. Here he began to
thunder with his axe upon the gate of the castle, protected in part from
the shot and stones cast by the defenders by the ruins of the former
drawbridge, which the Templar had demolished in his retreat from the
barbican, leaving the counterpoise still attached to the upper part of
the portal. The followers of the knight had no such shelter; two were
instantly shot with cross-bow bolts, and two more fell into the moat;
the others retreated back into the barbican.

The situation of Cedric and of the Black Knight was now truly dangerous,
and would have been still more so, but for the constancy of the
archers in the barbican, who ceased not to shower their arrows upon
the battlements, distracting the attention of those by whom they were
manned, and thus affording a respite to their two chiefs from the
storm of missiles which must otherwise have overwhelmed them. But their
situation was eminently perilous, and was becoming more so with every
moment.

"Shame on ye all!" cried De Bracy to the soldiers around him; "do ye
call yourselves cross-bowmen, and let these two dogs keep their station
under the walls of the castle?--Heave over the coping stones from the
battlements, an better may not be--Get pick-axe and levers, and down
with that huge pinnacle!" pointing to a heavy piece of stone carved-work
that projected from the parapet.

At this moment the besiegers caught sight of the red flag upon the angle
of the tower which Ulrica had described to Cedric. The stout yeoman
Locksley was the first who was aware of it, as he was hasting to the
outwork, impatient to see the progress of the assault.

"Saint George!" he cried, "Merry Saint George for England!--To the
charge, bold yeomen!--why leave ye the good knight and noble Cedric to
storm the pass alone?--make in, mad priest, show thou canst fight for
thy rosary,--make in, brave yeomen!--the castle is ours, we have friends
within--See yonder flag, it is the appointed signal--Torquilstone is
ours!--Think of honour, think of spoil--One effort, and the place is
ours!"

With that he bent his good bow, and sent a shaft right through the
breast of one of the men-at-arms, who, under De Bracy's direction, was
loosening a fragment from one of the battlements to precipitate on the
heads of Cedric and the Black Knight. A second soldier caught from the
hands of the dying man the iron crow, with which he heaved at and
had loosened the stone pinnacle, when, receiving an arrow through his
head-piece, he dropped from the battlements into the moat a dead man.
The men-at-arms were daunted, for no armour seemed proof against the
shot of this tremendous archer.

"Do you give ground, base knaves!" said De Bracy; "'Mount joye Saint
Dennis!'--Give me the lever!"

And, snatching it up, he again assailed the loosened pinnacle, which was
of weight enough, if thrown down, not only to have destroyed the remnant
of the drawbridge, which sheltered the two foremost assailants, but also
to have sunk the rude float of planks over which they had crossed. All
saw the danger, and the boldest, even the stout Friar himself, avoided
setting foot on the raft. Thrice did Locksley bend his shaft against De
Bracy, and thrice did his arrow bound back from the knight's armour of
proof.

"Curse on thy Spanish steel-coat!" said Locksley, "had English smith
forged it, these arrows had gone through, an as if it had been silk or
sendal." He then began to call out, "Comrades! friends! noble Cedric!
bear back, and let the ruin fall."

His warning voice was unheard, for the din which the knight himself
occasioned by his strokes upon the postern would have drowned twenty
war-trumpets. The faithful Gurth indeed sprung forward on the planked
bridge, to warn Cedric of his impending fate, or to share it with him.
But his warning would have come too late; the massive pinnacle already
tottered, and De Bracy, who still heaved at his task, would have
accomplished it, had not the voice of the Templar sounded close in his
ears:--

"All is lost, De Bracy, the castle burns."

"Thou art mad to say so!" replied the knight.

"It is all in a light flame on the western side. I have striven in vain
to extinguish it."

With the stern coolness which formed the basis of his character, Brian
de Bois-Guilbert communicated this hideous intelligence, which was not
so calmly received by his astonished comrade.

"Saints of Paradise!" said De Bracy; "what is to be done? I vow to Saint
Nicholas of Limoges a candlestick of pure gold--"

"Spare thy vow," said the Templar, "and mark me. Lead thy men down, as
if to a sally; throw the postern-gate open--There are but two men who
occupy the float, fling them into the moat, and push across for the
barbican. I will charge from the main gate, and attack the barbican on
the outside; and if we can regain that post, be assured we shall defend
ourselves until we are relieved, or at least till they grant us fair
quarter."

"It is well thought upon," said De Bracy; "I will play my part--Templar,
thou wilt not fail me?"

"Hand and glove, I will not!" said Bois-Guilbert. "But haste thee, in
the name of God!"

De Bracy hastily drew his men together, and rushed down to the
postern-gate, which he caused instantly to be thrown open. But scarce
was this done ere the portentous strength of the Black Knight forced his
way inward in despite of De Bracy and his followers. Two of the foremost
instantly fell, and the rest gave way notwithstanding all their leader's
efforts to stop them.

"Dogs!" said De Bracy, "will ye let TWO men win our only pass for
safety?"

"He is the devil!" said a veteran man-at-arms, bearing back from the
blows of their sable antagonist.

"And if he be the devil," replied De Bracy, "would you fly from him into
the mouth of hell?--the castle burns behind us, villains!--let despair
give you courage, or let me forward! I will cope with this champion
myself."

And well and chivalrous did De Bracy that day maintain the fame he had
acquired in the civil wars of that dreadful period. The vaulted passage
to which the postern gave entrance, and in which these two redoubted
champions were now fighting hand to hand, rung with the furious blows
which they dealt each other, De Bracy with his sword, the Black Knight
with his ponderous axe. At length the Norman received a blow, which,
though its force was partly parried by his shield, for otherwise never
more would De Bracy have again moved limb, descended yet with such
violence on his crest, that he measured his length on the paved floor.

"Yield thee, De Bracy," said the Black Champion, stooping over him, and
holding against the bars of his helmet the fatal poniard with which the
knights dispatched their enemies, (and which was called the dagger of
mercy,)--"yield thee, Maurice de Bracy, rescue or no rescue, or thou art
but a dead man."

"I will not yield," replied De Bracy faintly, "to an unknown conqueror.
Tell me thy name, or work thy pleasure on me--it shall never be said
that Maurice de Bracy was prisoner to a nameless churl."

The Black Knight whispered something into the ear of the vanquished.

"I yield me to be true prisoner, rescue or no rescue," answered the
Norman, exchanging his tone of stern and determined obstinacy for one of
deep though sullen submission.

"Go to the barbican," said the victor, in a tone of authority, "and
there wait my further orders."

"Yet first, let me say," said De Bracy, "what it imports thee to know.
Wilfred of Ivanhoe is wounded and a prisoner, and will perish in the
burning castle without present help."

"Wilfred of Ivanhoe!" exclaimed the Black Knight--"prisoner, and
perish!--The life of every man in the castle shall answer it if a hair
of his head be singed--Show me his chamber!"

"Ascend yonder winding stair," said De Bracy; "it leads to his
apartment--Wilt thou not accept my guidance?" he added, in a submissive
voice.

"No. To the barbican, and there wait my orders. I trust thee not, De
Bracy."

During this combat and the brief conversation which ensued, Cedric, at
the head of a body of men, among whom the Friar was conspicuous, had
pushed across the bridge as soon as they saw the postern open, and drove
back the dispirited and despairing followers of De Bracy, of whom some
asked quarter, some offered vain resistance, and the greater part fled
towards the court-yard. De Bracy himself arose from the ground, and cast
a sorrowful glance after his conqueror. "He trusts me not!" he repeated;
"but have I deserved his trust?" He then lifted his sword from the
floor, took off his helmet in token of submission, and, going to the
barbican, gave up his sword to Locksley, whom he met by the way.

As the fire augmented, symptoms of it became soon apparent in the
chamber, where Ivanhoe was watched and tended by the Jewess Rebecca. He
had been awakened from his brief slumber by the noise of the battle; and
his attendant, who had, at his anxious desire, again placed herself at
the window to watch and report to him the fate of the attack, was
for some time prevented from observing either, by the increase of the
smouldering and stifling vapour. At length the volumes of smoke which
rolled into the apartment--the cries for water, which were heard even
above the din of the battle made them sensible of the progress of this
new danger.

"The castle burns," said Rebecca; "it burns!--What can we do to save
ourselves?"

"Fly, Rebecca, and save thine own life," said Ivanhoe, "for no human aid
can avail me."

"I will not fly," answered Rebecca; "we will be saved or perish
together--And yet, great God!--my father, my father--what will be his
fate!"

At this moment the door of the apartment flew open, and the Templar
presented himself,--a ghastly figure, for his gilded armour was broken
and bloody, and the plume was partly shorn away, partly burnt from his
casque. "I have found thee," said he to Rebecca; "thou shalt prove I
will keep my word to share weal and woe with thee--There is but one
path to safety, I have cut my way through fifty dangers to point it to
thee--up, and instantly follow me!" [38]

"Alone," answered Rebecca, "I will not follow thee. If thou wert born of
woman--if thou hast but a touch of human charity in thee--if thy heart
be not hard as thy breastplate--save my aged father--save this wounded
knight!"

"A knight," answered the Templar, with his characteristic calmness, "a
knight, Rebecca, must encounter his fate, whether it meet him in the
shape of sword or flame--and who recks how or where a Jew meets with
his?"

"Savage warrior," said Rebecca, "rather will I perish in the flames than
accept safety from thee!"

"Thou shalt not choose, Rebecca--once didst thou foil me, but never
mortal did so twice."

So saying, he seized on the terrified maiden, who filled the air with
her shrieks, and bore her out of the room in his arms in spite of her
cries, and without regarding the menaces and defiance which Ivanhoe
thundered against him. "Hound of the Temple--stain to thine Order--set
free the damsel! Traitor of Bois-Guilbert, it is Ivanhoe commands
thee!--Villain, I will have thy heart's blood!"

"I had not found thee, Wilfred," said the Black Knight, who at that
instant entered the apartment, "but for thy shouts."

"If thou be'st true knight," said Wilfred, "think not of me--pursue yon
ravisher--save the Lady Rowena--look to the noble Cedric!"

"In their turn," answered he of the Fetterlock, "but thine is first."

And seizing upon Ivanhoe, he bore him off with as much ease as the
Templar had carried off Rebecca, rushed with him to the postern, and
having there delivered his burden to the care of two yeomen, he again
entered the castle to assist in the rescue of the other prisoners.

One turret was now in bright flames, which flashed out furiously from
window and shot-hole. But in other parts, the great thickness of the
walls and the vaulted roofs of the apartments, resisted the progress
of the flames, and there the rage of man still triumphed, as the scarce
more dreadful element held mastery elsewhere; for the besiegers pursued
the defenders of the castle from chamber to chamber, and satiated in
their blood the vengeance which had long animated them against the
soldiers of the tyrant Front-de-Boeuf. Most of the garrison resisted to
the uttermost--few of them asked quarter--none received it. The air was
filled with groans and clashing of arms--the floors were slippery with
the blood of despairing and expiring wretches.

Through this scene of confusion, Cedric rushed in quest of Rowena, while
the faithful Gurth, following him closely through the "melee", neglected
his own safety while he strove to avert the blows that were aimed at
his master. The noble Saxon was so fortunate as to reach his ward's
apartment just as she had abandoned all hope of safety, and, with a
crucifix clasped in agony to her bosom, sat in expectation of instant
death. He committed her to the charge of Gurth, to be conducted in
safety to the barbican, the road to which was now cleared of the enemy,
and not yet interrupted by the flames. This accomplished, the loyal
Cedric hastened in quest of his friend Athelstane, determined, at every
risk to himself, to save that last scion of Saxon royalty. But ere
Cedric penetrated as far as the old hall in which he had himself been
a prisoner, the inventive genius of Wamba had procured liberation for
himself and his companion in adversity.

When the noise of the conflict announced that it was at the hottest, the
Jester began to shout, with the utmost power of his lungs, "Saint George
and the dragon!--Bonny Saint George for merry England!--The castle is
won!" And these sounds he rendered yet more fearful, by banging against
each other two or three pieces of rusty armour which lay scattered
around the hall.

A guard, which had been stationed in the outer, or anteroom, and
whose spirits were already in a state of alarm, took fright at Wamba's
clamour, and, leaving the door open behind them, ran to tell the Templar
that foemen had entered the old hall. Meantime the prisoners found no
difficulty in making their escape into the anteroom, and from thence
into the court of the castle, which was now the last scene of contest.
Here sat the fierce Templar, mounted on horseback, surrounded by several
of the garrison both on horse and foot, who had united their strength
to that of this renowned leader, in order to secure the last chance
of safety and retreat which remained to them. The drawbridge had been
lowered by his orders, but the passage was beset; for the archers, who
had hitherto only annoyed the castle on that side by their missiles, no
sooner saw the flames breaking out, and the bridge lowered, than they
thronged to the entrance, as well to prevent the escape of the garrison,
as to secure their own share of booty ere the castle should be burnt
down. On the other hand, a party of the besiegers who had entered by
the postern were now issuing out into the court-yard, and attacking with
fury the remnant of the defenders who were thus assaulted on both sides
at once.

Animated, however, by despair, and supported by the example of their
indomitable leader, the remaining soldiers of the castle fought with
the utmost valour; and, being well-armed, succeeded more than once in
driving back the assailants, though much inferior in numbers. Rebecca,
placed on horseback before one of the Templar's Saracen slaves, was in
the midst of the little party; and Bois-Guilbert, notwithstanding the
confusion of the bloody fray, showed every attention to her safety.
Repeatedly he was by her side, and, neglecting his own defence, held
before her the fence of his triangular steel-plated shield; and anon
starting from his position by her, he cried his war-cry, dashed forward,
struck to earth the most forward of the assailants, and was on the same
instant once more at her bridle rein.

Athelstane, who, as the reader knows, was slothful, but not cowardly,
beheld the female form whom the Templar protected thus sedulously, and
doubted not that it was Rowena whom the knight was carrying off, in
despite of all resistance which could be offered.

"By the soul of Saint Edward," he said, "I will rescue her from yonder
over-proud knight, and he shall die by my hand!"

"Think what you do!" cried Wamba; "hasty hand catches frog for fish--by
my bauble, yonder is none of my Lady Rowena--see but her long dark
locks!--Nay, an ye will not know black from white, ye may be leader, but
I will be no follower--no bones of mine shall be broken unless I know
for whom.--And you without armour too!--Bethink you, silk bonnet never
kept out steel blade.--Nay, then, if wilful will to water, wilful must
drench.--'Deus vobiscum', most doughty Athelstane!"--he concluded,
loosening the hold which he had hitherto kept upon the Saxon's tunic.

To snatch a mace from the pavement, on which it lay beside one whose
dying grasp had just relinquished it--to rush on the Templar's band, and
to strike in quick succession to the right and left, levelling a warrior
at each blow, was, for Athelstane's great strength, now animated with
unusual fury, but the work of a single moment; he was soon within two
yards of Bois-Guilbert, whom he defied in his loudest tone.

"Turn, false-hearted Templar! let go her whom thou art unworthy to
touch--turn, limb of a hand of murdering and hypocritical robbers!"

"Dog!" said the Templar, grinding his teeth, "I will teach thee to
blaspheme the holy Order of the Temple of Zion;" and with these words,
half-wheeling his steed, he made a demi-courbette towards the Saxon, and
rising in the stirrups, so as to take full advantage of the descent of
the horse, he discharged a fearful blow upon the head of Athelstane.

Well said Wamba, that silken bonnet keeps out no steel blade. So
trenchant was the Templar's weapon, that it shore asunder, as it had
been a willow twig, the tough and plaited handle of the mace, which the
ill-fated Saxon reared to parry the blow, and, descending on his head,
levelled him with the earth.

"'Ha! Beau-seant!'" exclaimed Bois-Guilbert, "thus be it to the
maligners of the Temple-knights!" Taking advantage of the dismay which
was spread by the fall of Athelstane, and calling aloud, "Those who
would save themselves, follow me!" he pushed across the drawbridge,
dispersing the archers who would have intercepted them. He was followed
by his Saracens, and some five or six men-at-arms, who had mounted their
horses. The Templar's retreat was rendered perilous by the numbers of
arrows shot off at him and his party; but this did not prevent him from
galloping round to the barbican, of which, according to his previous
plan, he supposed it possible De Bracy might have been in possession.

"De Bracy! De Bracy!" he shouted, "art thou there?"

"I am here," replied De Bracy, "but I am a prisoner."

"Can I rescue thee?" cried Bois-Guilbert.

"No," replied De Bracy; "I have rendered me, rescue or no rescue. I will
be true prisoner. Save thyself--there are hawks abroad--put the seas
betwixt you and England--I dare not say more."

"Well," answered the Templar, "an thou wilt tarry there, remember I
have redeemed word and glove. Be the hawks where they will, methinks
the walls of the Preceptory of Templestowe will be cover sufficient, and
thither will I, like heron to her haunt."

Having thus spoken, he galloped off with his followers.

Those of the castle who had not gotten to horse, still continued
to fight desperately with the besiegers, after the departure of the
Templar, but rather in despair of quarter than that they entertained any
hope of escape. The fire was spreading rapidly through all parts of the
castle, when Ulrica, who had first kindled it, appeared on a turret, in
the guise of one of the ancient furies, yelling forth a war-song, such
as was of yore raised on the field of battle by the scalds of the
yet heathen Saxons. Her long dishevelled grey hair flew back from her
uncovered head; the inebriating delight of gratified vengeance contended
in her eyes with the fire of insanity; and she brandished the distaff
which she held in her hand, as if she had been one of the Fatal Sisters,
who spin and abridge the thread of human life. Tradition has preserved
some wild strophes of the barbarous hymn which she chanted wildly amid
that scene of fire and of slaughter:--

     1.
     Whet the bright steel,
     Sons of the White Dragon!
     Kindle the torch,
     Daughter of Hengist!
     The steel glimmers not for the carving of the banquet,
     It is hard, broad, and sharply pointed;
     The torch goeth not to the bridal chamber,
     It steams and glitters blue with sulphur.
     Whet the steel, the raven croaks!
     Light the torch, Zernebock is yelling!
     Whet the steel, sons of the Dragon!
     Kindle the torch, daughter of Hengist!

     2.
     The black cloud is low over the thane's castle
     The eagle screams--he rides on its bosom.
     Scream not, grey rider of the sable cloud,
     Thy banquet is prepared!
     The maidens of Valhalla look forth,
     The race of Hengist will send them guests.
     Shake your black tresses, maidens of Valhalla!
     And strike your loud timbrels for joy!
     Many a haughty step bends to your halls,
     Many a helmed head.

     3.
     Dark sits the evening upon the thanes castle,
     The black clouds gather round;
     Soon shall they be red as the blood of the valiant!
     The destroyer of forests shall shake his red crest against
     them.
     He, the bright consumer of palaces,
     Broad waves he his blazing banner,
     Red, wide and dusky,
     Over the strife of the valiant:
     His joy is in the clashing swords and broken bucklers;
     He loves to lick the hissing blood as it bursts warm from the
     wound!

     4.
     All must perish!
     The sword cleaveth the helmet;
     The strong armour is pierced by the lance;
     Fire devoureth the dwelling of princes,
     Engines break down the fences of the battle.
     All must perish!
     The race of Hengist is gone--
     The name of Horsa is no more!
     Shrink not then from your doom, sons of the sword!
     Let your blades drink blood like wine;
     Feast ye in the banquet of slaughter,
     By the light of the blazing halls!
     Strong be your swords while your blood is warm,
     And spare neither for pity nor fear,
     For vengeance hath but an hour;
     Strong hate itself shall expire
     I also must perish! [39]

The towering flames had now surmounted every obstruction, and rose to
the evening skies one huge and burning beacon, seen far and wide through
the adjacent country. Tower after tower crashed down, with blazing roof
and rafter; and the combatants were driven from the court-yard. The
vanquished, of whom very few remained, scattered and escaped into the
neighbouring wood. The victors, assembling in large bands, gazed with
wonder, not unmixed with fear, upon the flames, in which their own ranks
and arms glanced dusky red. The maniac figure of the Saxon Ulrica was
for a long time visible on the lofty stand she had chosen, tossing
her arms abroad with wild exultation, as if she reined empress of the
conflagration which she had raised. At length, with a terrific crash,
the whole turret gave way, and she perished in the flames which had
consumed her tyrant. An awful pause of horror silenced each murmur of
the armed spectators, who, for the space of several minutes, stirred not
a finger, save to sign the cross. The voice of Locksley was then heard,
"Shout, yeomen!--the den of tyrants is no more! Let each bring his
spoil to our chosen place of rendezvous at the Trysting-tree in the
Harthill-walk; for there at break of day will we make just partition
among our own bands, together with our worthy allies in this great deed
of vengeance."

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

completion: The attackers construct a long raft by which they cross the castle's moat. The Black Knight and Cedric are the first to cross, and in spite of the shower of arrows from their men, they are in a precarious position. Then the attackers see a red flag flying from the castle and know it is time to press their assault. De Bois-Guilbert tells De Bracy that all is lost because the castle is on fire. Nevertheless, De Bois-Guilbert comes up with a plan to continue the fight. The Black Knight fights De Bracy and forces him to yield. As the castle burns, Ivanhoe urges Rebecca to flee, so that she can at least save her own life. Rebecca refuses, but then De Bois-Guilbert appears and carries her off. Then the Black Knight carries Ivanhoe to safety before returning to the castle to free the remaining prisoners. Cedric frees Rowena, and gives her to Gurth to be taken to safety. The battle intensifies. De Bois-Guilbert escapes on horseback with Rebecca, flooring Athelstane who tries to stop him. The castle burns, and the flames can be seen for miles around. Ulrica stands on the turret chanting a wild song. The turret gives way to the flames and she goes to her death. These action chapters, which bring part two of the novel to its conclusion, speak for themselves. The Black Knight and his band of Englishmen, as they assault the French castle, resemble a charge out of Shakespeare's patriotic play Henry V, in which the small English army defeats a much larger French force. At the same time, Scott brings the ideals of chivalry into question in the debate between Rebecca and Ivanhoe. Ivanhoe puts his case for chivalry eloquently, but for Rebecca it is all a sham--the ideals of glory and honor simply mask the reality of violence. The knight of chivalry, to her, has to sacrifice all his better feelings "for a life spent miserably that ye may make others miserable"


prompt:
Chapter: Trust me each state must have its policies:
     Kingdoms have edicts, cities have their charters;
     Even the wild outlaw, in his forest-walk,
     Keeps yet some touch of civil discipline;
     For not since Adam wore his verdant apron,
     Hath man with man in social union dwelt,
     But laws were made to draw that union closer.
     --Old Play

The daylight had dawned upon the glades of the oak forest. The green
boughs glittered with all their pearls of dew. The hind led her fawn
from the covert of high fern to the more open walks of the greenwood,
and no huntsman was there to watch or intercept the stately hart, as he
paced at the head of the antler'd herd.

The outlaws were all assembled around the Trysting-tree in the
Harthill-walk, where they had spent the night in refreshing themselves
after the fatigues of the siege, some with wine, some with slumber, many
with hearing and recounting the events of the day, and computing the
heaps of plunder which their success had placed at the disposal of their
Chief.

The spoils were indeed very large; for, notwithstanding that much was
consumed, a great deal of plate, rich armour, and splendid clothing,
had been secured by the exertions of the dauntless outlaws, who could be
appalled by no danger when such rewards were in view. Yet so strict were
the laws of their society, that no one ventured to appropriate any
part of the booty, which was brought into one common mass, to be at the
disposal of their leader.

The place of rendezvous was an aged oak; not however the same to which
Locksley had conducted Gurth and Wamba in the earlier part of the story,
but one which was the centre of a silvan amphitheatre, within half a
mile of the demolished castle of Torquilstone. Here Locksley assumed his
seat--a throne of turf erected under the twisted branches of the huge
oak, and the silvan followers were gathered around him. He assigned to
the Black Knight a seat at his right hand, and to Cedric a place upon
his left.

"Pardon my freedom, noble sirs," he said, "but in these glades I am
monarch--they are my kingdom; and these my wild subjects would reck but
little of my power, were I, within my own dominions, to yield place to
mortal man.--Now, sirs, who hath seen our chaplain? where is our curtal
Friar? A mass amongst Christian men best begins a busy morning."--No one
had seen the Clerk of Copmanhurst. "Over gods forbode!" said the outlaw
chief, "I trust the jolly priest hath but abidden by the wine-pot a
thought too late. Who saw him since the castle was ta'en?"

"I," quoth the Miller, "marked him busy about the door of a cellar,
swearing by each saint in the calendar he would taste the smack of
Front-de-Boeuf's Gascoigne wine."

"Now, the saints, as many as there be of them," said the Captain,
"forefend, lest he has drunk too deep of the wine-butts, and perished by
the fall of the castle!--Away, Miller!--take with you enow of men,
seek the place where you last saw him--throw water from the moat on the
scorching ruins--I will have them removed stone by stone ere I lose my
curtal Friar."

The numbers who hastened to execute this duty, considering that an
interesting division of spoil was about to take place, showed how much
the troop had at heart the safety of their spiritual father.

"Meanwhile, let us proceed," said Locksley; "for when this bold deed
shall be sounded abroad, the bands of De Bracy, of Malvoisin, and other
allies of Front-de-Boeuf, will be in motion against us, and it were well
for our safety that we retreat from the vicinity.--Noble Cedric," he
said, turning to the Saxon, "that spoil is divided into two portions; do
thou make choice of that which best suits thee, to recompense thy people
who were partakers with us in this adventure."

"Good yeoman," said Cedric, "my heart is oppressed with sadness. The
noble Athelstane of Coningsburgh is no more--the last sprout of
the sainted Confessor! Hopes have perished with him which can never
return!--A sparkle hath been quenched by his blood, which no human
breath can again rekindle! My people, save the few who are now with me,
do but tarry my presence to transport his honoured remains to their last
mansion. The Lady Rowena is desirous to return to Rotherwood, and must
be escorted by a sufficient force. I should, therefore, ere now, have
left this place; and I waited--not to share the booty, for, so help me
God and Saint Withold! as neither I nor any of mine will touch the value
of a liard,--I waited but to render my thanks to thee and to thy bold
yeomen, for the life and honour ye have saved."

"Nay, but," said the chief Outlaw, "we did but half the work at
most--take of the spoil what may reward your own neighbours and
followers."

"I am rich enough to reward them from mine own wealth," answered Cedric.

"And some," said Wamba, "have been wise enough to reward themselves;
they do not march off empty-handed altogether. We do not all wear
motley."

"They are welcome," said Locksley; "our laws bind none but ourselves."

"But, thou, my poor knave," said Cedric, turning about and embracing
his Jester, "how shall I reward thee, who feared not to give thy body
to chains and death instead of mine!--All forsook me, when the poor fool
was faithful!"

A tear stood in the eye of the rough Thane as he spoke--a mark of
feeling which even the death of Athelstane had not extracted; but there
was something in the half-instinctive attachment of his clown, that
waked his nature more keenly than even grief itself.

"Nay," said the Jester, extricating himself from master's caress, "if
you pay my service with the water of your eye, the Jester must weep
for company, and then what becomes of his vocation?--But, uncle, if you
would indeed pleasure me, I pray you to pardon my playfellow Gurth, who
stole a week from your service to bestow it on your son."

"Pardon him!" exclaimed Cedric; "I will both pardon and reward
him.--Kneel down, Gurth."--The swineherd was in an instant at his
master's feet--"THEOW and ESNE [40] art thou no longer," said Cedric
touching him with a wand; "FOLKFREE and SACLESS [41] art thou in town
and from town, in the forest as in the field. A hide of land I give to
thee in my steads of Walbrugham, from me and mine to thee and thine aye
and for ever; and God's malison on his head who this gainsays!"

No longer a serf, but a freeman and a landholder, Gurth sprung upon his
feet, and twice bounded aloft to almost his own height from the ground.
"A smith and a file," he cried, "to do away the collar from the neck
of a freeman!--Noble master! doubled is my strength by your gift, and
doubly will I fight for you!--There is a free spirit in my breast--I am
a man changed to myself and all around.--Ha, Fangs!" he continued,--for
that faithful cur, seeing his master thus transported, began to jump
upon him, to express his sympathy,--"knowest thou thy master still?"

"Ay," said Wamba, "Fangs and I still know thee, Gurth, though we must
needs abide by the collar; it is only thou art likely to forget both us
and thyself."

"I shall forget myself indeed ere I forget thee, true comrade," said
Gurth; "and were freedom fit for thee, Wamba, the master would not let
thee want it."

"Nay," said Wamba, "never think I envy thee, brother Gurth; the serf
sits by the hall-fire when the freeman must forth to the field of
battle--And what saith Oldhelm of Malmsbury--Better a fool at a feast
than a wise man at a fray."

The tramp of horses was now heard, and the Lady Rowena appeared,
surrounded by several riders, and a much stronger party of footmen, who
joyfully shook their pikes and clashed their brown-bills for joy of her
freedom. She herself, richly attired, and mounted on a dark chestnut
palfrey, had recovered all the dignity of her manner, and only an
unwonted degree of paleness showed the sufferings she had undergone. Her
lovely brow, though sorrowful, bore on it a cast of reviving hope
for the future, as well as of grateful thankfulness for the past
deliverance--She knew that Ivanhoe was safe, and she knew that
Athelstane was dead. The former assurance filled her with the most
sincere delight; and if she did not absolutely rejoice at the latter,
she might be pardoned for feeling the full advantage of being freed
from further persecution on the only subject in which she had ever been
contradicted by her guardian Cedric.

As Rowena bent her steed towards Locksley's seat, that bold yeoman, with
all his followers, rose to receive her, as if by a general instinct of
courtesy. The blood rose to her cheeks, as, courteously waving her hand,
and bending so low that her beautiful and loose tresses were for an
instant mixed with the flowing mane of her palfrey, she expressed in
few but apt words her obligations and her gratitude to Locksley and her
other deliverers.--"God bless you, brave men," she concluded, "God and
Our Lady bless you and requite you for gallantly perilling yourselves
in the cause of the oppressed!--If any of you should hunger, remember
Rowena has food--if you should thirst, she has many a butt of wine and
brown ale--and if the Normans drive ye from these walks, Rowena has
forests of her own, where her gallant deliverers may range at full
freedom, and never ranger ask whose arrow hath struck down the deer."

"Thanks, gentle lady," said Locksley; "thanks from my company and
myself. But, to have saved you requites itself. We who walk the
greenwood do many a wild deed, and the Lady Rowena's deliverance may be
received as an atonement."

Again bowing from her palfrey, Rowena turned to depart; but pausing a
moment, while Cedric, who was to attend her, was also taking his leave,
she found herself unexpectedly close by the prisoner De Bracy. He stood
under a tree in deep meditation, his arms crossed upon his breast,
and Rowena was in hopes she might pass him unobserved. He looked up,
however, and, when aware of her presence, a deep flush of shame suffused
his handsome countenance. He stood a moment most irresolute; then,
stepping forward, took her palfrey by the rein, and bent his knee before
her.

"Will the Lady Rowena deign to cast an eye--on a captive knight--on a
dishonoured soldier?"

"Sir Knight," answered Rowena, "in enterprises such as yours, the real
dishonour lies not in failure, but in success."

"Conquest, lady, should soften the heart," answered De Bracy; "let me
but know that the Lady Rowena forgives the violence occasioned by an
ill-fated passion, and she shall soon learn that De Bracy knows how to
serve her in nobler ways."

"I forgive you, Sir Knight," said Rowena, "as a Christian."

"That means," said Wamba, "that she does not forgive him at all."

"But I can never forgive the misery and desolation your madness has
occasioned," continued Rowena.

"Unloose your hold on the lady's rein," said Cedric, coming up. "By the
bright sun above us, but it were shame, I would pin thee to the earth
with my javelin--but be well assured, thou shalt smart, Maurice de
Bracy, for thy share in this foul deed."

"He threatens safely who threatens a prisoner," said De Bracy; "but when
had a Saxon any touch of courtesy?"

Then retiring two steps backward, he permitted the lady to move on.

Cedric, ere they departed, expressed his peculiar gratitude to the Black
Champion, and earnestly entreated him to accompany him to Rotherwood.

"I know," he said, "that ye errant knights desire to carry your fortunes
on the point of your lance, and reck not of land or goods; but war is
a changeful mistress, and a home is sometimes desirable even to the
champion whose trade is wandering. Thou hast earned one in the halls
of Rotherwood, noble knight. Cedric has wealth enough to repair the
injuries of fortune, and all he has is his deliverer's--Come, therefore,
to Rotherwood, not as a guest, but as a son or brother."

"Cedric has already made me rich," said the Knight,--"he has taught me
the value of Saxon virtue. To Rotherwood will I come, brave Saxon, and
that speedily; but, as now, pressing matters of moment detain me from
your halls. Peradventure when I come hither, I will ask such a boon as
will put even thy generosity to the test."

"It is granted ere spoken out," said Cedric, striking his ready hand
into the gauntleted palm of the Black Knight,--"it is granted already,
were it to affect half my fortune."

"Gage not thy promise so lightly," said the Knight of the Fetterlock;
"yet well I hope to gain the boon I shall ask. Meanwhile, adieu."

"I have but to say," added the Saxon, "that, during the funeral rites
of the noble Athelstane, I shall be an inhabitant of the halls of his
castle of Coningsburgh--They will be open to all who choose to partake
of the funeral banqueting; and, I speak in name of the noble Edith,
mother of the fallen prince, they will never be shut against him who
laboured so bravely, though unsuccessfully, to save Athelstane from
Norman chains and Norman steel."

"Ay, ay," said Wamba, who had resumed his attendance on his master,
"rare feeding there will be--pity that the noble Athelstane cannot
banquet at his own funeral.--But he," continued the Jester, lifting up
his eyes gravely, "is supping in Paradise, and doubtless does honour to
the cheer."

"Peace, and move on," said Cedric, his anger at this untimely jest being
checked by the recollection of Wamba's recent services. Rowena waved a
graceful adieu to him of the Fetterlock--the Saxon bade God speed him,
and on they moved through a wide glade of the forest.

They had scarce departed, ere a sudden procession moved from under the
greenwood branches, swept slowly round the silvan amphitheatre, and
took the same direction with Rowena and her followers. The priests of
a neighbouring convent, in expectation of the ample donation, or
"soul-scat", which Cedric had propined, attended upon the car in which
the body of Athelstane was laid, and sang hymns as it was sadly
and slowly borne on the shoulders of his vassals to his castle of
Coningsburgh, to be there deposited in the grave of Hengist, from whom
the deceased derived his long descent. Many of his vassals had assembled
at the news of his death, and followed the bier with all the external
marks, at least, of dejection and sorrow. Again the outlaws arose, and
paid the same rude and spontaneous homage to death, which they had
so lately rendered to beauty--the slow chant and mournful step of the
priests brought back to their remembrance such of their comrades as had
fallen in the yesterday's array. But such recollections dwell not long
with those who lead a life of danger and enterprise, and ere the sound
of the death-hymn had died on the wind, the outlaws were again busied in
the distribution of their spoil.

"Valiant knight," said Locksley to the Black Champion, "without whose
good heart and mighty arm our enterprise must altogether have failed,
will it please you to take from that mass of spoil whatever may best
serve to pleasure you, and to remind you of this my Trysting-tree?"

"I accept the offer," said the Knight, "as frankly as it is given; and I
ask permission to dispose of Sir Maurice de Bracy at my own pleasure."

"He is thine already," said Locksley, "and well for him! else the
tyrant had graced the highest bough of this oak, with as many of his
Free-Companions as we could gather, hanging thick as acorns around
him.--But he is thy prisoner, and he is safe, though he had slain my
father."

"De Bracy," said the Knight, "thou art free--depart. He whose prisoner
thou art scorns to take mean revenge for what is past. But beware of
the future, lest a worse thing befall thee.--Maurice de Bracy, I say
BEWARE!"

De Bracy bowed low and in silence, and was about to withdraw, when the
yeomen burst at once into a shout of execration and derision. The proud
knight instantly stopped, turned back, folded his arms, drew up his form
to its full height, and exclaimed, "Peace, ye yelping curs! who open
upon a cry which ye followed not when the stag was at bay--De Bracy
scorns your censure as he would disdain your applause. To your brakes
and caves, ye outlawed thieves! and be silent when aught knightly or
noble is but spoken within a league of your fox-earths."

This ill-timed defiance might have procured for De Bracy a volley of
arrows, but for the hasty and imperative interference of the outlaw
Chief. Meanwhile the knight caught a horse by the rein, for several
which had been taken in the stables of Front-de-Boeuf stood accoutred
around, and were a valuable part of the booty. He threw himself upon the
saddle, and galloped off through the wood.

When the bustle occasioned by this incident was somewhat composed, the
chief Outlaw took from his neck the rich horn and baldric which he had
recently gained at the strife of archery near Ashby.

"Noble knight." he said to him of the Fetterlock, "if you disdain not to
grace by your acceptance a bugle which an English yeoman has once worn,
this I will pray you to keep as a memorial of your gallant bearing--and
if ye have aught to do, and, as happeneth oft to a gallant knight, ye
chance to be hard bested in any forest between Trent and Tees, wind
three mots [42] upon the horn thus, 'Wa-sa-hoa!' and it may well chance
ye shall find helpers and rescue."

He then gave breath to the bugle, and winded once and again the call
which he described, until the knight had caught the notes.

"Gramercy for the gift, bold yeoman," said the Knight; "and better help
than thine and thy rangers would I never seek, were it at my utmost
need." And then in his turn he winded the call till all the greenwood
rang.

"Well blown and clearly," said the yeoman; "beshrew me an thou knowest
not as much of woodcraft as of war!--thou hast been a striker of deer in
thy day, I warrant.--Comrades, mark these three mots--it is the call of
the Knight of the Fetterlock; and he who hears it, and hastens not to
serve him at his need, I will have him scourged out of our band with his
own bowstring."

"Long live our leader!" shouted the yeomen, "and long live the Black
Knight of the Fetterlock!--May he soon use our service, to prove how
readily it will be paid."

Locksley now proceeded to the distribution of the spoil, which he
performed with the most laudable impartiality. A tenth part of the whole
was set apart for the church, and for pious uses; a portion was next
allotted to a sort of public treasury; a part was assigned to the widows
and children of those who had fallen, or to be expended in masses for
the souls of such as had left no surviving family. The rest was divided
amongst the outlaws, according to their rank and merit, and the judgment
of the Chief, on all such doubtful questions as occurred, was delivered
with great shrewdness, and received with absolute submission. The
Black Knight was not a little surprised to find that men, in a state so
lawless, were nevertheless among themselves so regularly and equitably
governed, and all that he observed added to his opinion of the justice
and judgment of their leader.

When each had taken his own proportion of the booty, and while the
treasurer, accompanied by four tall yeomen, was transporting that
belonging to the state to some place of concealment or of security, the
portion devoted to the church still remained unappropriated.

"I would," said the leader, "we could hear tidings of our joyous
chaplain--he was never wont to be absent when meat was to be blessed, or
spoil to be parted; and it is his duty to take care of these the tithes
of our successful enterprise. It may be the office has helped to cover
some of his canonical irregularities. Also, I have a holy brother of his
a prisoner at no great distance, and I would fain have the Friar to help
me to deal with him in due sort--I greatly misdoubt the safety of the
bluff priest."

"I were right sorry for that," said the Knight of the Fetterlock, "for I
stand indebted to him for the joyous hospitality of a merry night in his
cell. Let us to the ruins of the castle; it may be we shall there learn
some tidings of him."

While they thus spoke, a loud shout among the yeomen announced the
arrival of him for whom they feared, as they learned from the stentorian
voice of the Friar himself, long before they saw his burly person.

"Make room, my merry-men!" he exclaimed; "room for your godly father
and his prisoner--Cry welcome once more.--I come, noble leader, like an
eagle with my prey in my clutch."--And making his way through the ring,
amidst the laughter of all around, he appeared in majestic triumph, his
huge partisan in one hand, and in the other a halter, one end of which
was fastened to the neck of the unfortunate Isaac of York, who, bent
down by sorrow and terror, was dragged on by the victorious priest, who
shouted aloud, "Where is Allan-a-Dale, to chronicle me in a ballad, or
if it were but a lay?--By Saint Hermangild, the jingling crowder is ever
out of the way where there is an apt theme for exalting valour!"

"Curtal Priest," said the Captain, "thou hast been at a wet mass this
morning, as early as it is. In the name of Saint Nicholas, whom hast
thou got here?"

"A captive to my sword and to my lance, noble Captain," replied the
Clerk of Copmanhurst; "to my bow and to my halberd, I should rather
say; and yet I have redeemed him by my divinity from a worse captivity.
Speak, Jew--have I not ransomed thee from Sathanas?--have I not taught
thee thy 'credo', thy 'pater', and thine 'Ave Maria'?--Did I not spend
the whole night in drinking to thee, and in expounding of mysteries?"

"For the love of God!" ejaculated the poor Jew, "will no one take me out
of the keeping of this mad--I mean this holy man?"

"How's this, Jew?" said the Friar, with a menacing aspect; "dost thou
recant, Jew?--Bethink thee, if thou dost relapse into thine infidelity,
though thou are not so tender as a suckling pig--I would I had one
to break my fast upon--thou art not too tough to be roasted! Be
conformable, Isaac, and repeat the words after me. 'Ave Maria'!--"

"Nay, we will have no profanation, mad Priest," said Locksley; "let us
rather hear where you found this prisoner of thine."

"By Saint Dunstan," said the Friar, "I found him where I sought for
better ware! I did step into the cellarage to see what might be rescued
there; for though a cup of burnt wine, with spice, be an evening's
drought for an emperor, it were waste, methought, to let so much good
liquor be mulled at once; and I had caught up one runlet of sack, and
was coming to call more aid among these lazy knaves, who are ever to
seek when a good deed is to be done, when I was avised of a strong
door--Aha! thought I, here is the choicest juice of all in this secret
crypt; and the knave butler, being disturbed in his vocation, hath left
the key in the door--In therefore I went, and found just nought besides
a commodity of rusted chains and this dog of a Jew, who presently
rendered himself my prisoner, rescue or no rescue. I did but refresh
myself after the fatigue of the action, with the unbeliever, with one
humming cup of sack, and was proceeding to lead forth my captive,
when, crash after crash, as with wild thunder-dint and levin-fire, down
toppled the masonry of an outer tower, (marry beshrew their hands that
built it not the firmer!) and blocked up the passage. The roar of one
falling tower followed another--I gave up thought of life; and deeming
it a dishonour to one of my profession to pass out of this world in
company with a Jew, I heaved up my halberd to beat his brains out; but
I took pity on his grey hairs, and judged it better to lay down the
partisan, and take up my spiritual weapon for his conversion. And truly,
by the blessing of Saint Dunstan, the seed has been sown in good soil;
only that, with speaking to him of mysteries through the whole night,
and being in a manner fasting, (for the few droughts of sack which I
sharpened my wits with were not worth marking,) my head is well-nigh
dizzied, I trow.--But I was clean exhausted.--Gilbert and Wibbald know
in what state they found me--quite and clean exhausted."

"We can bear witness," said Gilbert; "for when we had cleared away the
ruin, and by Saint Dunstan's help lighted upon the dungeon stair, we
found the runlet of sack half empty, the Jew half dead, and the Friar
more than half--exhausted, as he calls it."

"Ye be knaves! ye lie!" retorted the offended Friar; "it was you and
your gormandizing companions that drank up the sack, and called it your
morning draught--I am a pagan, an I kept it not for the Captain's own
throat. But what recks it? The Jew is converted, and understands all I
have told him, very nearly, if not altogether, as well as myself."

"Jew," said the Captain, "is this true? hast thou renounced thine
unbelief?"

"May I so find mercy in your eyes," said the Jew, "as I know not one
word which the reverend prelate spake to me all this fearful night.
Alas! I was so distraught with agony, and fear, and grief, that had
our holy father Abraham come to preach to me, he had found but a deaf
listener."

"Thou liest, Jew, and thou knowest thou dost." said the Friar; "I will
remind thee of but one word of our conference--thou didst promise to
give all thy substance to our holy Order."

"So help me the Promise, fair sirs," said Isaac, even more alarmed than
before, "as no such sounds ever crossed my lips! Alas! I am an aged
beggar'd man--I fear me a childless--have ruth on me, and let me go!"

"Nay," said the Friar, "if thou dost retract vows made in favour of holy
Church, thou must do penance."

Accordingly, he raised his halberd, and would have laid the staff of
it lustily on the Jew's shoulders, had not the Black Knight stopped the
blow, and thereby transferred the Holy Clerk's resentment to himself.

"By Saint Thomas of Kent," said he, "an I buckle to my gear, I will
teach thee, sir lazy lover, to mell with thine own matters, maugre thine
iron case there!"

"Nay, be not wroth with me," said the Knight; "thou knowest I am thy
sworn friend and comrade."

"I know no such thing," answered the Friar; "and defy thee for a
meddling coxcomb!"

"Nay, but," said the Knight, who seemed to take a pleasure in provoking
his quondam host, "hast thou forgotten how, that for my sake (for I say
nothing of the temptation of the flagon and the pasty) thou didst break
thy vow of fast and vigil?"

"Truly, friend," said the Friar, clenching his huge fist, "I will bestow
a buffet on thee."

"I accept of no such presents," said the Knight; "I am content to take
thy cuff [421] as a loan, but I will repay thee with usury as deep as ever thy prisoner
there exacted in his traffic."

"I will prove that presently," said the Friar.

"Hola!" cried the Captain, "what art thou after, mad Friar? brawling
beneath our Trysting-tree?"

"No brawling," said the Knight, "it is but a friendly interchange of
courtesy.--Friar, strike an thou darest--I will stand thy blow, if thou
wilt stand mine."

"Thou hast the advantage with that iron pot on thy head," said the
churchman; "but have at thee--Down thou goest, an thou wert Goliath of
Gath in his brazen helmet."

The Friar bared his brawny arm up to the elbow, and putting his full
strength to the blow, gave the Knight a buffet that might have felled an
ox. But his adversary stood firm as a rock. A loud shout was uttered by
all the yeomen around; for the Clerk's cuff was proverbial amongst them,
and there were few who, in jest or earnest, had not had the occasion to
know its vigour.

"Now, Priest," said, the Knight, pulling off his gauntlet, "if I had
vantage on my head, I will have none on my hand--stand fast as a true
man."

"'Genam meam dedi vapulatori'--I have given my cheek to the smiter,"
said the Priest; "an thou canst stir me from the spot, fellow, I will
freely bestow on thee the Jew's ransom."

So spoke the burly Priest, assuming, on his part, high defiance. But
who may resist his fate? The buffet of the Knight was given with such
strength and good-will, that the Friar rolled head over heels upon
the plain, to the great amazement of all the spectators. But he arose
neither angry nor crestfallen.

"Brother," said he to the Knight, "thou shouldst have used thy strength
with more discretion. I had mumbled but a lame mass an thou hadst
broken my jaw, for the piper plays ill that wants the nether chops.
Nevertheless, there is my hand, in friendly witness, that I will
exchange no more cuffs with thee, having been a loser by the barter. End
now all unkindness. Let us put the Jew to ransom, since the leopard will
not change his spots, and a Jew he will continue to be."

"The Priest," said Clement, "is not half so confident of the Jew's
conversion, since he received that buffet on the ear."

"Go to, knave, what pratest thou of conversions?--what, is there no
respect?--all masters and no men?--I tell thee, fellow, I was somewhat
totty when I received the good knight's blow, or I had kept my ground
under it. But an thou gibest more of it, thou shalt learn I can give as
well as take."

"Peace all!" said the Captain. "And thou, Jew, think of thy ransom;
thou needest not to be told that thy race are held to be accursed in all
Christian communities, and trust me that we cannot endure thy presence
among us. Think, therefore, of an offer, while I examine a prisoner of
another cast."

"Were many of Front-de-Boeuf's men taken?" demanded the Black Knight.

"None of note enough to be put to ransom," answered the Captain; "a
set of hilding fellows there were, whom we dismissed to find them a new
master--enough had been done for revenge and profit; the bunch of them
were not worth a cardecu. The prisoner I speak of is better booty--a
jolly monk riding to visit his leman, an I may judge by his horse-gear
and wearing apparel.--Here cometh the worthy prelate, as pert as a
pyet." And, between two yeomen, was brought before the silvan throne of
the outlaw Chief, our old friend, Prior Aymer of Jorvaulx.

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

completion: The victorious outlaws assemble in the forest to divide up the spoils they plundered from the burning castle. Cedric is distraught because Athelstane was killed. He pardons Gurth, makes him a free man and gives him some land. Rowena arrives with an escort. De Bracy, now a prisoner, asks her to forgive him, but Rowena is reluctant to forgive him for all the misery his passion for her has caused. The Black Knight tells Cedric he will soon ask a boon from him, and Cedric says it is granted already, because he is so grateful for the Black Knight's assistance. The Black Knight then frees De Bracy, who grabs a horse and rides away. Locksley gives the Black Knight a bugle and tells him to blow three notes on it if he should ever need assistance in the forest. Locksley then distributes the booty in a fair manner. One-tenth is to be given to the church; some goes to the families of the dead, and some is given to the outlaws according to their rank and merit. Locksley's decisions in the matter are accepted by all. Friar Tuck arrives belatedly, with Isaac in tow. The Friar claims that Isaac has converted to Christianity, but Isaac vehemently denies it. The Friar aims a blow at Isaac, but the Black Knight restrains him. The Friar and the Black Knight then exchange blows in a test of strength, which the Black Knight wins. Another prisoner is then brought to Locksley. This is Prior Aymer of Jorvaulx


prompt:
Chapter: ---Flower of warriors,
     How is't with Titus Lartius?
     MARCIUS.--As with a man busied about decrees,
     Condemning some to death and some to exile,
     Ransoming him or pitying, threatening the other.
     --Coriolanus

The captive Abbot's features and manners exhibited a whimsical mixture
of offended pride, and deranged foppery and bodily terror.

"Why, how now, my masters?" said he, with a voice in which all three
emotions were blended. "What order is this among ye? Be ye Turks
or Christians, that handle a churchman?--Know ye what it is, 'manus
imponere in servos Domini'? Ye have plundered my mails--torn my cope
of curious cut lace, which might have served a cardinal!--Another in my
place would have been at his 'excommunicabo vos'; but I am placible,
and if ye order forth my palfreys, release my brethren, and restore
my mails, tell down with all speed an hundred crowns to be expended in
masses at the high altar of Jorvaulx Abbey, and make your vow to eat no
venison until next Pentecost, it may be you shall hear little more of
this mad frolic."

"Holy Father," said the chief Outlaw, "it grieves me to think that you
have met with such usage from any of my followers, as calls for your
fatherly reprehension."

"Usage!" echoed the priest, encouraged by the mild tone of the silvan
leader; "it were usage fit for no hound of good race--much less for a
Christian--far less for a priest--and least of all for the Prior of
the holy community of Jorvaulx. Here is a profane and drunken minstrel,
called Allan-a-Dale--'nebulo quidam'--who has menaced me with corporal
punishment--nay, with death itself, an I pay not down four hundred
crowns of ransom, to the boot of all the treasure he hath already robbed
me of--gold chains and gymmal rings to an unknown value; besides what
is broken and spoiled among their rude hands, such as my pouncer-box and
silver crisping-tongs."

"It is impossible that Allan-a-Dale can have thus treated a man of your
reverend bearing," replied the Captain.

"It is true as the gospel of Saint Nicodemus," said the Prior; "he
swore, with many a cruel north-country oath, that he would hang me up on
the highest tree in the greenwood."

"Did he so in very deed? Nay, then, reverend father, I think you had
better comply with his demands--for Allan-a-Dale is the very man to
abide by his word when he has so pledged it." [43]

"You do but jest with me," said the astounded Prior, with a forced
laugh; "and I love a good jest with all my heart. But, ha! ha! ha! when
the mirth has lasted the livelong night, it is time to be grave in the
morning."

"And I am as grave as a father confessor," replied the Outlaw; "you must
pay a round ransom, Sir Prior, or your convent is likely to be called to
a new election; for your place will know you no more."

"Are ye Christians," said the Prior, "and hold this language to a
churchman?"

"Christians! ay, marry are we, and have divinity among us to boot,"
answered the Outlaw. "Let our buxom chaplain stand forth, and expound to
this reverend father the texts which concern this matter."

The Friar, half-drunk, half-sober, had huddled a friar's frock over his
green cassock, and now summoning together whatever scraps of learning
he had acquired by rote in former days, "Holy father," said he, "'Deus
faciat salvam benignitatem vestram'--You are welcome to the greenwood."

"What profane mummery is this?" said the Prior. "Friend, if thou be'st
indeed of the church, it were a better deed to show me how I may escape
from these men's hands, than to stand ducking and grinning here like a
morris-dancer."

"Truly, reverend father," said the Friar, "I know but one mode in which
thou mayst escape. This is Saint Andrew's day with us, we are taking our
tithes."

"But not of the church, then, I trust, my good brother?" said the Prior.

"Of church and lay," said the Friar; "and therefore, Sir Prior 'facite
vobis amicos de Mammone iniquitatis'--make yourselves friends of the
Mammon of unrighteousness, for no other friendship is like to serve your
turn."

"I love a jolly woodsman at heart," said the Prior, softening his tone;
"come, ye must not deal too hard with me--I can well of woodcraft,
and can wind a horn clear and lustily, and hollo till every oak rings
again--Come, ye must not deal too hard with me."

"Give him a horn," said the Outlaw; "we will prove the skill he boasts
of."

The Prior Aymer winded a blast accordingly. The Captain shook his head.

"Sir Prior," he said, "thou blowest a merry note, but it may not ransom
thee--we cannot afford, as the legend on a good knight's shield hath it,
to set thee free for a blast. Moreover, I have found thee--thou art
one of those, who, with new French graces and Tra-li-ras, disturb the
ancient English bugle notes.--Prior, that last flourish on the recheat
hath added fifty crowns to thy ransom, for corrupting the true old manly
blasts of venerie."

"Well, friend," said the Abbot, peevishly, "thou art ill to please with
thy woodcraft. I pray thee be more conformable in this matter of my
ransom. At a word--since I must needs, for once, hold a candle to the
devil--what ransom am I to pay for walking on Watling-street, without
having fifty men at my back?"

"Were it not well," said the Lieutenant of the gang apart to the
Captain, "that the Prior should name the Jew's ransom, and the Jew name
the Prior's?"

"Thou art a mad knave," said the Captain, "but thy plan
transcends!--Here, Jew, step forth--Look at that holy Father Aymer,
Prior of the rich Abbey of Jorvaulx, and tell us at what ransom we
should hold him?--Thou knowest the income of his convent, I warrant
thee."

"O, assuredly," said Isaac. "I have trafficked with the good fathers,
and bought wheat and barley, and fruits of the earth, and also much
wool. O, it is a rich abbey-stede, and they do live upon the fat, and
drink the sweet wines upon the lees, these good fathers of Jorvaulx. Ah,
if an outcast like me had such a home to go to, and such incomings by
the year and by the month, I would pay much gold and silver to redeem my
captivity."

"Hound of a Jew!" exclaimed the Prior, "no one knows better than thy own
cursed self, that our holy house of God is indebted for the finishing of
our chancel--"

"And for the storing of your cellars in the last season with the due
allowance of Gascon wine," interrupted the Jew; "but that--that is small
matters."

"Hear the infidel dog!" said the churchman; "he jangles as if our holy
community did come under debts for the wines we have a license to
drink, 'propter necessitatem, et ad frigus depellendum'. The circumcised
villain blasphemeth the holy church, and Christian men listen and rebuke
him not!"

"All this helps nothing," said the leader.--"Isaac, pronounce what he
may pay, without flaying both hide and hair."

"An six hundred crowns," said Isaac, "the good Prior might well pay to
your honoured valours, and never sit less soft in his stall."

"Six hundred crowns," said the leader, gravely; "I am contented--thou
hast well spoken, Isaac--six hundred crowns.--It is a sentence, Sir
Prior."

"A sentence!--a sentence!" exclaimed the band; "Solomon had not done it
better."

"Thou hearest thy doom, Prior," said the leader.

"Ye are mad, my masters," said the Prior; "where am I to find such a
sum? If I sell the very pyx and candlesticks on the altar at Jorvaulx,
I shall scarce raise the half; and it will be necessary for that purpose
that I go to Jorvaulx myself; ye may retain as borrows [44] my two
priests."

"That will be but blind trust," said the Outlaw; "we will retain thee,
Prior, and send them to fetch thy ransom. Thou shalt not want a cup of
wine and a collop of venison the while; and if thou lovest woodcraft,
thou shalt see such as your north country never witnessed."

"Or, if so please you," said Isaac, willing to curry favour with the
outlaws, "I can send to York for the six hundred crowns, out of certain
monies in my hands, if so be that the most reverend Prior present will
grant me a quittance."

"He shall grant thee whatever thou dost list, Isaac," said the Captain;
"and thou shalt lay down the redemption money for Prior Aymer as well as
for thyself."

"For myself! ah, courageous sirs," said the Jew, "I am a broken and
impoverished man; a beggar's staff must be my portion through life,
supposing I were to pay you fifty crowns."

"The Prior shall judge of that matter," replied the Captain.--"How say
you, Father Aymer? Can the Jew afford a good ransom?"

"Can he afford a ransom?" answered the Prior "Is he not Isaac of York,
rich enough to redeem the captivity of the ten tribes of Israel, who
were led into Assyrian bondage?--I have seen but little of him myself,
but our cellarer and treasurer have dealt largely with him, and report
says that his house at York is so full of gold and silver as is a shame
in any Christian land. Marvel it is to all living Christian hearts that
such gnawing adders should be suffered to eat into the bowels of the
state, and even of the holy church herself, with foul usuries and
extortions."

"Hold, father," said the Jew, "mitigate and assuage your choler. I pray
of your reverence to remember that I force my monies upon no one. But
when churchman and layman, prince and prior, knight and priest, come
knocking to Isaac's door, they borrow not his shekels with these uncivil
terms. It is then, Friend Isaac, will you pleasure us in this matter,
and our day shall be truly kept, so God sa' me?--and Kind Isaac, if ever
you served man, show yourself a friend in this need! And when the day
comes, and I ask my own, then what hear I but Damned Jew, and The curse
of Egypt on your tribe, and all that may stir up the rude and uncivil
populace against poor strangers!"

"Prior," said the Captain, "Jew though he be, he hath in this spoken
well. Do thou, therefore, name his ransom, as he named thine, without
farther rude terms."

"None but 'latro famosus'--the interpretation whereof," said the Prior,
"will I give at some other time and tide--would place a Christian
prelate and an unbaptized Jew upon the same bench. But since ye require
me to put a price upon this caitiff, I tell you openly that ye will
wrong yourselves if you take from him a penny under a thousand crowns."

"A sentence!--a sentence!" exclaimed the chief Outlaw.

"A sentence!--a sentence!" shouted his assessors; "the Christian has
shown his good nurture, and dealt with us more generously than the Jew."

"The God of my fathers help me!" said the Jew; "will ye bear to the
ground an impoverished creature?--I am this day childless, and will ye
deprive me of the means of livelihood?"

"Thou wilt have the less to provide for, Jew, if thou art childless,"
said Aymer.

"Alas! my lord," said Isaac, "your law permits you not to know how the
child of our bosom is entwined with the strings of our heart--O Rebecca!
laughter of my beloved Rachel! were each leaf on that tree a zecchin,
and each zecchin mine own, all that mass of wealth would I give to know
whether thou art alive, and escaped the hands of the Nazarene!"

"Was not thy daughter dark-haired?" said one of the outlaws; "and wore
she not a veil of twisted sendal, broidered with silver?"

"She did!--she did!" said the old man, trembling with eagerness, as
formerly with fear. "The blessing of Jacob be upon thee! canst thou tell
me aught of her safety?"

"It was she, then," said the yeoman, "who was carried off by the proud
Templar, when he broke through our ranks on yester-even. I had drawn my
bow to send a shaft after him, but spared him even for the sake of the
damsel, who I feared might take harm from the arrow."

"Oh!" answered the Jew, "I would to God thou hadst shot, though the
arrow had pierced her bosom!--Better the tomb of her fathers than the
dishonourable couch of the licentious and savage Templar. Ichabod!
Ichabod! the glory hath departed from my house!"

"Friends," said the Chief, looking round, "the old man is but a Jew,
natheless his grief touches me.--Deal uprightly with us, Isaac--will
paying this ransom of a thousand crowns leave thee altogether
penniless?"

Isaac, recalled to think of his worldly goods, the love of which, by
dint of inveterate habit, contended even with his parental affection,
grew pale, stammered, and could not deny there might be some small
surplus.

"Well--go to--what though there be," said the Outlaw, "we will not
reckon with thee too closely. Without treasure thou mayst as well hope
to redeem thy child from the clutches of Sir Brian de Bois-Guilbert, as
to shoot a stag-royal with a headless shaft.--We will take thee at the
same ransom with Prior Aymer, or rather at one hundred crowns lower,
which hundred crowns shall be mine own peculiar loss, and not light upon
this worshipful community; and so we shall avoid the heinous offence of
rating a Jew merchant as high as a Christian prelate, and thou wilt
have six hundred crowns remaining to treat for thy daughter's ransom.
Templars love the glitter of silver shekels as well as the sparkle
of black eyes.--Hasten to make thy crowns chink in the ear of De
Bois-Guilbert, ere worse comes of it. Thou wilt find him, as our scouts
have brought notice, at the next Preceptory house of his Order.--Said I
well, my merry mates?"

The yeomen expressed their wonted acquiescence in their leader's
opinion; and Isaac, relieved of one half of his apprehensions, by
learning that his daughter lived, and might possibly be ransomed, threw
himself at the feet of the generous Outlaw, and, rubbing his beard
against his buskins, sought to kiss the hem of his green cassock. The
Captain drew himself back, and extricated himself from the Jew's grasp,
not without some marks of contempt.

"Nay, beshrew thee, man, up with thee! I am English born, and love no
such Eastern prostrations--Kneel to God, and not to a poor sinner, like
me."

"Ay, Jew," said Prior Aymer; "kneel to God, as represented in the
servant of his altar, and who knows, with thy sincere repentance and due
gifts to the shrine of Saint Robert, what grace thou mayst acquire for
thyself and thy daughter Rebecca? I grieve for the maiden, for she is of
fair and comely countenance,--I beheld her in the lists of Ashby. Also
Brian de Bois-Guilbert is one with whom I may do much--bethink thee how
thou mayst deserve my good word with him."

"Alas! alas!" said the Jew, "on every hand the spoilers arise against
me--I am given as a prey unto the Assyrian, and a prey unto him of
Egypt."

"And what else should be the lot of thy accursed race?" answered
the Prior; "for what saith holy writ, 'verbum Domini projecerunt, et
sapientia est nulla in eis'--they have cast forth the word of the
Lord, and there is no wisdom in them; 'propterea dabo mulieres eorum
exteris'--I will give their women to strangers, that is to the Templar,
as in the present matter; 'et thesauros eorum haeredibus alienis',
and their treasures to others--as in the present case to these honest
gentlemen."

Isaac groaned deeply, and began to wring his hands, and to relapse into
his state of desolation and despair. But the leader of the yeomen led
him aside.

"Advise thee well, Isaac," said Locksley, "what thou wilt do in this
matter; my counsel to thee is to make a friend of this churchman. He is
vain, Isaac, and he is covetous; at least he needs money to supply his
profusion. Thou canst easily gratify his greed; for think not that I am
blinded by thy pretexts of poverty. I am intimately acquainted, Isaac,
with the very iron chest in which thou dost keep thy money-bags--What!
know I not the great stone beneath the apple-tree, that leads into
the vaulted chamber under thy garden at York?" The Jew grew as pale as
death--"But fear nothing from me," continued the yeoman, "for we are
of old acquainted. Dost thou not remember the sick yeoman whom thy fair
daughter Rebecca redeemed from the gyves at York, and kept him in
thy house till his health was restored, when thou didst dismiss him
recovered, and with a piece of money?--Usurer as thou art, thou didst
never place coin at better interest than that poor silver mark, for it
has this day saved thee five hundred crowns."

"And thou art he whom we called Diccon Bend-the-Bow?" said Isaac; "I
thought ever I knew the accent of thy voice."

"I am Bend-the-Bow," said the Captain, "and Locksley, and have a good
name besides all these."

"But thou art mistaken, good Bend-the-Bow, concerning that same
vaulted apartment. So help me Heaven, as there is nought in it but some
merchandises which I will gladly part with to you--one hundred yards
of Lincoln green to make doublets to thy men, and a hundred staves of
Spanish yew to make bows, and a hundred silken bowstrings, tough, round,
and sound--these will I send thee for thy good-will, honest Diccon, an
thou wilt keep silence about the vault, my good Diccon."

"Silent as a dormouse," said the Outlaw; "and never trust me but I am
grieved for thy daughter. But I may not help it--The Templars lances are
too strong for my archery in the open field--they would scatter us like
dust. Had I but known it was Rebecca when she was borne off, something
might have been done; but now thou must needs proceed by policy. Come,
shall I treat for thee with the Prior?"

"In God's name, Diccon, an thou canst, aid me to recover the child of my
bosom!"

"Do not thou interrupt me with thine ill-timed avarice," said the
Outlaw, "and I will deal with him in thy behalf."

He then turned from the Jew, who followed him, however, as closely as
his shadow.

"Prior Aymer," said the Captain, "come apart with me under this tree.
Men say thou dost love wine, and a lady's smile, better than beseems thy
Order, Sir Priest; but with that I have nought to do. I have heard, too,
thou dost love a brace of good dogs and a fleet horse, and it may well
be that, loving things which are costly to come by, thou hatest not a
purse of gold. But I have never heard that thou didst love oppression or
cruelty.--Now, here is Isaac willing to give thee the means of pleasure
and pastime in a bag containing one hundred marks of silver, if thy
intercession with thine ally the Templar shall avail to procure the
freedom of his daughter."

"In safety and honour, as when taken from me," said the Jew, "otherwise
it is no bargain."

"Peace, Isaac," said the Outlaw, "or I give up thine interest.--What say
you to this my purpose, Prior Aymer?"

"The matter," quoth the Prior, "is of a mixed condition; for, if I do a
good deal on the one hand, yet, on the other, it goeth to the vantage
of a Jew, and in so much is against my conscience. Yet, if the Israelite
will advantage the Church by giving me somewhat over to the building
of our dortour, [45] I will take it on my conscience to aid him in the
matter of his daughter."

"For a score of marks to the dortour," said the Outlaw,--"Be still, I
say, Isaac!--or for a brace of silver candlesticks to the altar, we will
not stand with you."

"Nay, but, good Diccon Bend-the-Bow"--said Isaac, endeavouring to
interpose.

"Good Jew--good beast--good earthworm!" said the yeoman, losing
patience; "an thou dost go on to put thy filthy lucre in the balance
with thy daughter's life and honour, by Heaven, I will strip thee of
every maravedi thou hast in the world, before three days are out!"

Isaac shrunk together, and was silent.

"And what pledge am I to have for all this?" said the Prior.

"When Isaac returns successful through your mediation," said the Outlaw,
"I swear by Saint Hubert, I will see that he pays thee the money in good
silver, or I will reckon with him for it in such sort, he had better
have paid twenty such sums."

"Well then, Jew," said Aymer, "since I must needs meddle in this matter,
let me have the use of thy writing-tablets--though, hold--rather than
use thy pen, I would fast for twenty-four hours, and where shall I find
one?"

"If your holy scruples can dispense with using the Jew's tablets, for
the pen I can find a remedy," said the yeoman; and, bending his bow, he
aimed his shaft at a wild-goose which was soaring over their heads, the
advanced-guard of a phalanx of his tribe, which were winging their way
to the distant and solitary fens of Holderness. The bird came fluttering
down, transfixed with the arrow.

"There, Prior," said the Captain, "are quills enow to supply all the
monks of Jorvaulx for the next hundred years, an they take not to
writing chronicles."

The Prior sat down, and at great leisure indited an epistle to Brian
de Bois-Guilbert, and having carefully sealed up the tablets, delivered
them to the Jew, saying, "This will be thy safe-conduct to the
Preceptory of Templestowe, and, as I think, is most likely to accomplish
the delivery of thy daughter, if it be well backed with proffers of
advantage and commodity at thine own hand; for, trust me well, the
good Knight Bois-Guilbert is of their confraternity that do nought for
nought."

"Well, Prior," said the Outlaw, "I will detain thee no longer here than
to give the Jew a quittance for the six hundred crowns at which thy
ransom is fixed--I accept of him for my pay-master; and if I hear that
ye boggle at allowing him in his accompts the sum so paid by him, Saint
Mary refuse me, an I burn not the abbey over thine head, though I hang
ten years the sooner!"

With a much worse grace than that wherewith he had penned the letter to
Bois-Guilbert, the Prior wrote an acquittance, discharging Isaac of York
of six hundred crowns, advanced to him in his need for acquittal of his
ransom, and faithfully promising to hold true compt with him for that
sum.

"And now," said Prior Aymer, "I will pray you of restitution of my mules
and palfreys, and the freedom of the reverend brethren attending upon
me, and also of the gymmal rings, jewels, and fair vestures, of which
I have been despoiled, having now satisfied you for my ransom as a true
prisoner."

"Touching your brethren, Sir Prior," said Locksley, "they shall have
present freedom, it were unjust to detain them; touching your horses
and mules, they shall also be restored, with such spending-money as may
enable you to reach York, for it were cruel to deprive you of the means
of journeying.--But as concerning rings, jewels, chains, and what else,
you must understand that we are men of tender consciences, and will
not yield to a venerable man like yourself, who should be dead to the
vanities of this life, the strong temptation to break the rule of his
foundation, by wearing rings, chains, or other vain gauds."

"Think what you do, my masters," said the Prior, "ere you put your hand
on the Church's patrimony--These things are 'inter res sacras', and
I wot not what judgment might ensue were they to be handled by laical
hands."

"I will take care of that, reverend Prior," said the Hermit of
Copmanhurst; "for I will wear them myself."

"Friend, or brother," said the Prior, in answer to this solution of his
doubts, "if thou hast really taken religious orders, I pray thee to look
how thou wilt answer to thine official for the share thou hast taken in
this day's work."

"Friend Prior," returned the Hermit, "you are to know that I belong to
a little diocese, where I am my own diocesan, and care as little for the
Bishop of York as I do for the Abbot of Jorvaulx, the Prior, and all the
convent."

"Thou art utterly irregular," said the Prior; "one of those disorderly
men, who, taking on them the sacred character without due cause, profane
the holy rites, and endanger the souls of those who take counsel at
their hands; 'lapides pro pane condonantes iis', giving them stones
instead of bread as the Vulgate hath it."

"Nay," said the Friar, "an my brain-pan could have been broken by Latin,
it had not held so long together.--I say, that easing a world of such
misproud priests as thou art of their jewels and their gimcracks, is a
lawful spoiling of the Egyptians."

"Thou be'st a hedge-priest," [46] said the Prior, in great wrath,
"'excommunicabo vos'."

"Thou be'st thyself more like a thief and a heretic," said the
Friar, equally indignant; "I will pouch up no such affront before my
parishioners, as thou thinkest it not shame to put upon me, although I
be a reverend brother to thee. 'Ossa ejus perfringam', I will break your
bones, as the Vulgate hath it."

"Hola!" cried the Captain, "come the reverend brethren to such
terms?--Keep thine assurance of peace, Friar.--Prior, an thou hast not
made thy peace perfect with God, provoke the Friar no further.--Hermit,
let the reverend father depart in peace, as a ransomed man."

The yeomen separated the incensed priests, who continued to raise their
voices, vituperating each other in bad Latin, which the Prior delivered
the more fluently, and the Hermit with the greater vehemence. The Prior
at length recollected himself sufficiently to be aware that he was
compromising his dignity, by squabbling with such a hedge-priest as the
Outlaw's chaplain, and being joined by his attendants, rode off with
considerably less pomp, and in a much more apostolical condition, so
far as worldly matters were concerned, than he had exhibited before this
rencounter.

It remained that the Jew should produce some security for the ransom
which he was to pay on the Prior's account, as well as upon his own. He
gave, accordingly, an order sealed with his signet, to a brother of his
tribe at York, requiring him to pay to the bearer the sum of a thousand
crowns, and to deliver certain merchandises specified in the note.

"My brother Sheva," he said, groaning deeply, "hath the key of my
warehouses."

"And of the vaulted chamber," whispered Locksley.

"No, no--may Heaven forefend!" said Isaac; "evil is the hour that let
any one whomsoever into that secret!"

"It is safe with me," said the Outlaw, "so be that this thy scroll
produce the sum therein nominated and set down.--But what now, Isaac?
art dead? art stupefied? hath the payment of a thousand crowns put thy
daughter's peril out of thy mind?"

The Jew started to his feet--"No, Diccon, no--I will presently set
forth.--Farewell, thou whom I may not call good, and dare not and will
not call evil."

Yet ere Isaac departed, the Outlaw Chief bestowed on him this parting
advice:--"Be liberal of thine offers, Isaac, and spare not thy purse for
thy daughter's safety. Credit me, that the gold thou shalt spare in
her cause, will hereafter give thee as much agony as if it were poured
molten down thy throat."

Isaac acquiesced with a deep groan, and set forth on his journey,
accompanied by two tall foresters, who were to be his guides, and at the
same time his guards, through the wood.

The Black Knight, who had seen with no small interest these various
proceedings, now took his leave of the Outlaw in turn; nor could he
avoid expressing his surprise at having witnessed so much of civil
policy amongst persons cast out from all the ordinary protection and
influence of the laws.

"Good fruit, Sir Knight," said the yeoman, "will sometimes grow on a
sorry tree; and evil times are not always productive of evil alone and
unmixed. Amongst those who are drawn into this lawless state, there
are, doubtless, numbers who wish to exercise its license with some
moderation, and some who regret, it may be, that they are obliged to
follow such a trade at all."

"And to one of those," said the Knight, "I am now, I presume, speaking?"

"Sir Knight," said the Outlaw, "we have each our secret. You are welcome
to form your judgment of me, and I may use my conjectures touching you,
though neither of our shafts may hit the mark they are shot at. But as
I do not pray to be admitted into your mystery, be not offended that I
preserve my own."

"I crave pardon, brave Outlaw," said the Knight, "your reproof is just.
But it may be we shall meet hereafter with less of concealment on either
side.--Meanwhile we part friends, do we not?"

"There is my hand upon it," said Locksley; "and I will call it the hand
of a true Englishman, though an outlaw for the present."

"And there is mine in return," said the Knight, "and I hold it honoured
by being clasped with yours. For he that does good, having the unlimited
power to do evil, deserves praise not only for the good which he
performs, but for the evil which he forbears. Fare thee well, gallant
Outlaw!" Thus parted that fair fellowship; and He of the Fetterlock,
mounting upon his strong war-horse, rode off through the forest.

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

completion: Locksley tells the Prior that he will be freed only on payment of a ransom. He asks Isaac to decide what the ransom should be. Isaac says six hundred crowns. Asked to name Isaac's ransom, the Prior sets it at a thousand crowns. Both men protest loudly about the large sums expected of them. Locksley lowers Isaac's ransom to five hundred crowns, since he knows that Isaac will also have to pay a ransom to free Rebecca from De Bois-Guilbert. Locksley has been cared for in the past by Rebecca when he was sick, so this accounts for his relative generosity to Isaac. Locksley also persuades the Prior to intervene with De Bois-Guilbert in order to win Rebecca's freedom. After lengthy negotiations, Isaac goes off on his mission. The Black Knight departs, his real identity still a mystery