Chapter: Stern was the law which bade its vot'ries leave
     At human woes with human hearts to grieve;
     Stern was the law, which at the winning wile
     Of frank and harmless mirth forbade to smile;
     But sterner still, when high the iron-rod
     Of tyrant power she shook, and call'd that power of God.
     --The Middle Ages

The Tribunal, erected for the trial of the innocent and unhappy Rebecca,
occupied the dais or elevated part of the upper end of the great hall--a
platform, which we have already described as the place of honour,
destined to be occupied by the most distinguished inhabitants or guests
of an ancient mansion.

On an elevated seat, directly before the accused, sat the Grand Master
of the Temple, in full and ample robes of flowing white, holding in his
hand the mystic staff, which bore the symbol of the Order. At his feet
was placed a table, occupied by two scribes, chaplains of the Order,
whose duty it was to reduce to formal record the proceedings of the day.
The black dresses, bare scalps, and demure looks of these church-men,
formed a strong contrast to the warlike appearance of the knights who
attended, either as residing in the Preceptory, or as come thither to
attend upon their Grand Master. The Preceptors, of whom there were four
present, occupied seats lower in height, and somewhat drawn back behind
that of their superior; and the knights, who enjoyed no such rank in
the Order, were placed on benches still lower, and preserving the same
distance from the Preceptors as these from the Grand Master. Behind
them, but still upon the dais or elevated portion of the hall, stood the
esquires of the Order, in white dresses of an inferior quality.

The whole assembly wore an aspect of the most profound gravity; and in
the faces of the knights might be perceived traces of military daring,
united with the solemn carriage becoming men of a religious profession,
and which, in the presence of their Grand Master, failed not to sit upon
every brow.

The remaining and lower part of the hall was filled with guards, holding
partisans, and with other attendants whom curiosity had drawn thither,
to see at once a Grand Master and a Jewish sorceress. By far the greater
part of those inferior persons were, in one rank or other, connected
with the Order, and were accordingly distinguished by their black
dresses. But peasants from the neighbouring country were not refused
admittance; for it was the pride of Beaumanoir to render the edifying
spectacle of the justice which he administered as public as possible.
His large blue eyes seemed to expand as he gazed around the assembly,
and his countenance appeared elated by the conscious dignity, and
imaginary merit, of the part which he was about to perform. A psalm,
which he himself accompanied with a deep mellow voice, which age had not
deprived of its powers, commenced the proceedings of the day; and the
solemn sounds, "Venite exultemus Domino", so often sung by the Templars
before engaging with earthly adversaries, was judged by Lucas most
appropriate to introduce the approaching triumph, for such he deemed
it, over the powers of darkness. The deep prolonged notes, raised by
a hundred masculine voices accustomed to combine in the choral chant,
arose to the vaulted roof of the hall, and rolled on amongst its arches
with the pleasing yet solemn sound of the rushing of mighty waters.

When the sounds ceased, the Grand Master glanced his eye slowly around
the circle, and observed that the seat of one of the Preceptors was
vacant. Brian de Bois-Guilbert, by whom it had been occupied, had left
his place, and was now standing near the extreme corner of one of the
benches occupied by the Knights Companions of the Temple, one hand
extending his long mantle, so as in some degree to hide his face;
while the other held his cross-handled sword, with the point of which,
sheathed as it was, he was slowly drawing lines upon the oaken floor.

"Unhappy man!" said the Grand Master, after favouring him with a glance
of compassion. "Thou seest, Conrade, how this holy work distresses him.
To this can the light look of woman, aided by the Prince of the Powers
of this world, bring a valiant and worthy knight!--Seest thou he cannot
look upon us; he cannot look upon her; and who knows by what impulse
from his tormentor his hand forms these cabalistic lines upon the
floor?--It may be our life and safety are thus aimed at; but we spit at
and defy the foul enemy. 'Semper Leo percutiatur!'"

This was communicated apart to his confidential follower, Conrade
Mont-Fitchet. The Grand Master then raised his voice, and addressed the
assembly.

"Reverend and valiant men, Knights, Preceptors, and Companions of this
Holy Order, my brethren and my children!--you also, well-born and pious
Esquires, who aspire to wear this holy Cross!--and you also, Christian
brethren, of every degree!--Be it known to you, that it is not defect of
power in us which hath occasioned the assembling of this congregation;
for, however unworthy in our person, yet to us is committed, with this
batoon, full power to judge and to try all that regards the weal of
this our Holy Order. Holy Saint Bernard, in the rule of our knightly and
religious profession, hath said, in the fifty-ninth capital, [53] that
he would not that brethren be called together in council, save at the
will and command of the Master; leaving it free to us, as to those more
worthy fathers who have preceded us in this our office, to judge, as
well of the occasion as of the time and place in which a chapter of the
whole Order, or of any part thereof, may be convoked. Also, in all such
chapters, it is our duty to hear the advice of our brethren, and to
proceed according to our own pleasure. But when the raging wolf hath
made an inroad upon the flock, and carried off one member thereof, it is
the duty of the kind shepherd to call his comrades together, that with
bows and slings they may quell the invader, according to our well-known
rule, that the lion is ever to be beaten down. We have therefore
summoned to our presence a Jewish woman, by name Rebecca, daughter
of Isaac of York--a woman infamous for sortileges and for witcheries;
whereby she hath maddened the blood, and besotted the brain, not of a
churl, but of a Knight--not of a secular Knight, but of one devoted
to the service of the Holy Temple--not of a Knight Companion, but of a
Preceptor of our Order, first in honour as in place. Our brother, Brian
de Bois-Guilbert, is well known to ourselves, and to all degrees who now
hear me, as a true and zealous champion of the Cross, by whose arm many
deeds of valour have been wrought in the Holy Land, and the holy places
purified from pollution by the blood of those infidels who defiled them.
Neither have our brother's sagacity and prudence been less in repute
among his brethren than his valour and discipline; in so much, that
knights, both in eastern and western lands, have named De Bois-Guilbert
as one who may well be put in nomination as successor to this batoon,
when it shall please Heaven to release us from the toil of bearing
it. If we were told that such a man, so honoured, and so honourable,
suddenly casting away regard for his character, his vows, his brethren,
and his prospects, had associated to himself a Jewish damsel, wandered
in this lewd company, through solitary places, defended her person in
preference to his own, and, finally, was so utterly blinded and besotted
by his folly, as to bring her even to one of our own Preceptories,
what should we say but that the noble knight was possessed by some
evil demon, or influenced by some wicked spell?--If we could suppose
it otherwise, think not rank, valour, high repute, or any earthly
consideration, should prevent us from visiting him with punishment, that
the evil thing might be removed, even according to the text, 'Auferte
malum ex vobis'. For various and heinous are the acts of transgression
against the rule of our blessed Order in this lamentable history.--1st,
He hath walked according to his proper will, contrary to capital 33,
'Quod nullus juxta propriam voluntatem incedat'.--2d, He hath held
communication with an excommunicated person, capital 57, 'Ut fratres
non participent cum excommunicatis', and therefore hath a portion
in 'Anathema Maranatha'.--3d, He hath conversed with strange women,
contrary to the capital, 'Ut fratres non conversantur cum extraneis
mulieribus'.--4th, He hath not avoided, nay, he hath, it is to be
feared, solicited the kiss of woman; by which, saith the last rule of
our renowned Order, 'Ut fugiantur oscula', the soldiers of the Cross are
brought into a snare. For which heinous and multiplied guilt, Brian de
Bois-Guilbert should be cut off and cast out from our congregation, were
he the right hand and right eye thereof."

He paused. A low murmur went through the assembly. Some of the younger
part, who had been inclined to smile at the statute 'De osculis
fugiendis', became now grave enough, and anxiously waited what the Grand
Master was next to propose.

"Such," he said, "and so great should indeed be the punishment of a
Knight Templar, who wilfully offended against the rules of his Order in
such weighty points. But if, by means of charms and of spells, Satan had
obtained dominion over the Knight, perchance because he cast his eyes
too lightly upon a damsel's beauty, we are then rather to lament than
chastise his backsliding; and, imposing on him only such penance as
may purify him from his iniquity, we are to turn the full edge of
our indignation upon the accursed instrument, which had so well-nigh
occasioned his utter falling away.--Stand forth, therefore, and bear
witness, ye who have witnessed these unhappy doings, that we may judge
of the sum and bearing thereof; and judge whether our justice may be
satisfied with the punishment of this infidel woman, or if we must
go on, with a bleeding heart, to the further proceeding against our
brother."

Several witnesses were called upon to prove the risks to which
Bois-Guilbert exposed himself in endeavouring to save Rebecca from the
blazing castle, and his neglect of his personal defence in attending to
her safety. The men gave these details with the exaggerations common to
vulgar minds which have been strongly excited by any remarkable event,
and their natural disposition to the marvellous was greatly increased
by the satisfaction which their evidence seemed to afford to the eminent
person for whose information it had been delivered. Thus the dangers
which Bois-Guilbert surmounted, in themselves sufficiently great, became
portentous in their narrative. The devotion of the Knight to Rebecca's
defence was exaggerated beyond the bounds, not only of discretion, but
even of the most frantic excess of chivalrous zeal; and his deference
to what she said, even although her language was often severe and
upbraiding, was painted as carried to an excess, which, in a man of his
haughty temper, seemed almost preternatural.

The Preceptor of Templestowe was then called on to describe the manner
in which Bois-Guilbert and the Jewess arrived at the Preceptory. The
evidence of Malvoisin was skilfully guarded. But while he apparently
studied to spare the feelings of Bois-Guilbert, he threw in, from time
to time, such hints, as seemed to infer that he laboured under some
temporary alienation of mind, so deeply did he appear to be enamoured of
the damsel whom he brought along with him. With sighs of penitence, the
Preceptor avowed his own contrition for having admitted Rebecca and
her lover within the walls of the Preceptory--"But my defence," he
concluded, "has been made in my confession to our most reverend father
the Grand Master; he knows my motives were not evil, though my conduct
may have been irregular. Joyfully will I submit to any penance he shall
assign me."

"Thou hast spoken well, Brother Albert," said Beaumanoir; "thy motives
were good, since thou didst judge it right to arrest thine erring
brother in his career of precipitate folly. But thy conduct was wrong;
as he that would stop a runaway steed, and seizing by the stirrup
instead of the bridle, receiveth injury himself, instead of
accomplishing his purpose. Thirteen paternosters are assigned by our
pious founder for matins, and nine for vespers; be those services
doubled by thee. Thrice a-week are Templars permitted the use of flesh;
but do thou keep fast for all the seven days. This do for six weeks to
come, and thy penance is accomplished."

With a hypocritical look of the deepest submission, the Preceptor of
Templestowe bowed to the ground before his Superior, and resumed his
seat.

"Were it not well, brethren," said the Grand Master, "that we examine
something into the former life and conversation of this woman, specially
that we may discover whether she be one likely to use magical charms
and spells, since the truths which we have heard may well incline us to
suppose, that in this unhappy course our erring brother has been acted
upon by some infernal enticement and delusion?"

Herman of Goodalricke was the Fourth Preceptor present; the other
three were Conrade, Malvoisin, and Bois-Guilbert himself. Herman was an
ancient warrior, whose face was marked with scars inflicted by the
sabre of the Moslemah, and had great rank and consideration among his
brethren. He arose and bowed to the Grand Master, who instantly granted
him license of speech. "I would crave to know, most Reverend Father,
of our valiant brother, Brian de Bois-Guilbert, what he says to these
wondrous accusations, and with what eye he himself now regards his
unhappy intercourse with this Jewish maiden?"

"Brian de Bois-Guilbert," said the Grand Master, "thou hearest the
question which our Brother of Goodalricke desirest thou shouldst answer.
I command thee to reply to him."

Bois-Guilbert turned his head towards the Grand Master when thus
addressed, and remained silent.

"He is possessed by a dumb devil," said the Grand Master. "Avoid thee,
Sathanus!--Speak, Brian de Bois-Guilbert, I conjure thee, by this symbol
of our Holy Order."

Bois-Guilbert made an effort to suppress his rising scorn and
indignation, the expression of which, he was well aware, would have
little availed him. "Brian de Bois-Guilbert," he answered, "replies not,
most Reverend Father, to such wild and vague charges. If his honour be
impeached, he will defend it with his body, and with that sword which
has often fought for Christendom."

"We forgive thee, Brother Brian," said the Grand Master; "though that
thou hast boasted thy warlike achievements before us, is a glorifying of
thine own deeds, and cometh of the Enemy, who tempteth us to exalt our
own worship. But thou hast our pardon, judging thou speakest less of
thine own suggestion than from the impulse of him whom by Heaven's
leave, we will quell and drive forth from our assembly." A glance of
disdain flashed from the dark fierce eyes of Bois-Guilbert, but he made
no reply.--"And now," pursued the Grand Master, "since our Brother of
Goodalricke's question has been thus imperfectly answered, pursue we our
quest, brethren, and with our patron's assistance, we will search to the
bottom this mystery of iniquity.--Let those who have aught to witness of
the life and conversation of this Jewish woman, stand forth before us."
There was a bustle in the lower part of the hall, and when the Grand
Master enquired the reason, it was replied, there was in the crowd a
bedridden man, whom the prisoner had restored to the perfect use of his
limbs, by a miraculous balsam.

The poor peasant, a Saxon by birth, was dragged forward to the bar,
terrified at the penal consequences which he might have incurred by the
guilt of having been cured of the palsy by a Jewish damsel. Perfectly
cured he certainly was not, for he supported himself forward on crutches
to give evidence. Most unwilling was his testimony, and given with many
tears; but he admitted that two years since, when residing at York, he
was suddenly afflicted with a sore disease, while labouring for Isaac
the rich Jew, in his vocation of a joiner; that he had been unable to
stir from his bed until the remedies applied by Rebecca's directions,
and especially a warming and spicy-smelling balsam, had in some degree
restored him to the use of his limbs. Moreover, he said, she had given
him a pot of that precious ointment, and furnished him with a piece of
money withal, to return to the house of his father, near to Templestowe.
"And may it please your gracious Reverence," said the man, "I cannot
think the damsel meant harm by me, though she hath the ill hap to be a
Jewess; for even when I used her remedy, I said the Pater and the Creed,
and it never operated a whit less kindly--"

"Peace, slave," said the Grand Master, "and begone! It well suits brutes
like thee to be tampering and trinketing with hellish cures, and to be
giving your labour to the sons of mischief. I tell thee, the fiend can
impose diseases for the very purpose of removing them, in order to bring
into credit some diabolical fashion of cure. Hast thou that unguent of
which thou speakest?"

The peasant, fumbling in his bosom with a trembling hand, produced a
small box, bearing some Hebrew characters on the lid, which was, with
most of the audience, a sure proof that the devil had stood apothecary.
Beaumanoir, after crossing himself, took the box into his hand, and,
learned in most of the Eastern tongues, read with ease the motto on the
lid,--"The Lion of the tribe of Judah hath conquered."

"Strange powers of Sathanas." said he, "which can convert Scripture into
blasphemy, mingling poison with our necessary food!--Is there no leech
here who can tell us the ingredients of this mystic unguent?"

Two mediciners, as they called themselves, the one a monk, the other
a barber, appeared, and avouched they knew nothing of the materials,
excepting that they savoured of myrrh and camphire, which they took to
be Oriental herbs. But with the true professional hatred to a successful
practitioner of their art, they insinuated that, since the medicine was
beyond their own knowledge, it must necessarily have been compounded
from an unlawful and magical pharmacopeia; since they themselves, though
no conjurors, fully understood every branch of their art, so far as it
might be exercised with the good faith of a Christian. When this medical
research was ended, the Saxon peasant desired humbly to have back the
medicine which he had found so salutary; but the Grand Master frowned
severely at the request. "What is thy name, fellow?" said he to the
cripple.

"Higg, the son of Snell," answered the peasant.

"Then Higg, son of Snell," said the Grand Master, "I tell thee it is
better to be bedridden, than to accept the benefit of unbelievers'
medicine that thou mayest arise and walk; better to despoil infidels
of their treasure by the strong hand, than to accept of them benevolent
gifts, or do them service for wages. Go thou, and do as I have said."

"Alack," said the peasant, "an it shall not displease your Reverence,
the lesson comes too late for me, for I am but a maimed man; but I will
tell my two brethren, who serve the rich Rabbi Nathan Ben Samuel, that
your mastership says it is more lawful to rob him than to render him
faithful service."

"Out with the prating villain!" said Beaumanoir, who was not prepared to
refute this practical application of his general maxim.

Higg, the son of Snell, withdrew into the crowd, but, interested in the
fate of his benefactress, lingered until he should learn her doom, even
at the risk of again encountering the frown of that severe judge, the
terror of which withered his very heart within him.

At this period of the trial, the Grand Master commanded Rebecca to
unveil herself. Opening her lips for the first time, she replied
patiently, but with dignity,--"That it was not the wont of the daughters
of her people to uncover their faces when alone in an assembly of
strangers." The sweet tones of her voice, and the softness of her
reply, impressed on the audience a sentiment of pity and sympathy. But
Beaumanoir, in whose mind the suppression of each feeling of humanity
which could interfere with his imagined duty, was a virtue of itself,
repeated his commands that his victim should be unveiled. The guards
were about to remove her veil accordingly, when she stood up before
the Grand Master and said, "Nay, but for the love of your own
daughters--Alas," she said, recollecting herself, "ye have no
daughters!--yet for the remembrance of your mothers--for the love of
your sisters, and of female decency, let me not be thus handled in your
presence; it suits not a maiden to be disrobed by such rude grooms. I
will obey you," she added, with an expression of patient sorrow in her
voice, which had almost melted the heart of Beaumanoir himself; "ye are
elders among your people, and at your command I will show the features
of an ill-fated maiden."

She withdrew her veil, and looked on them with a countenance in which
bashfulness contended with dignity. Her exceeding beauty excited a
murmur of surprise, and the younger knights told each other with their
eyes, in silent correspondence, that Brian's best apology was in the
power of her real charms, rather than of her imaginary witchcraft. But
Higg, the son of Snell, felt most deeply the effect produced by the
sight of the countenance of his benefactress.

"Let me go forth," he said to the warders at the door of the hall,--"let
me go forth!--To look at her again will kill me, for I have had a share
in murdering her."

"Peace, poor man," said Rebecca, when she heard his exclamation; "thou
hast done me no harm by speaking the truth--thou canst not aid me by
thy complaints or lamentations. Peace, I pray thee--go home and save
thyself."

Higg was about to be thrust out by the compassion of the warders,
who were apprehensive lest his clamorous grief should draw upon them
reprehension, and upon himself punishment. But he promised to be silent,
and was permitted to remain. The two men-at-arms, with whom Albert
Malvoisin had not failed to communicate upon the import of their
testimony, were now called forward. Though both were hardened and
inflexible villains, the sight of the captive maiden, as well as her
excelling beauty, at first appeared to stagger them; but an expressive
glance from the Preceptor of Templestowe restored them to their dogged
composure; and they delivered, with a precision which would have seemed
suspicious to more impartial judges, circumstances either altogether
fictitious or trivial, and natural in themselves, but rendered pregnant
with suspicion by the exaggerated manner in which they were told, and
the sinister commentary which the witnesses added to the facts. The
circumstances of their evidence would have been, in modern days, divided
into two classes--those which were immaterial, and those which were
actually and physically impossible. But both were, in those ignorant
and superstitions times, easily credited as proofs of guilt.--The first
class set forth, that Rebecca was heard to mutter to herself in an
unknown tongue--that the songs she sung by fits were of a strangely
sweet sound, which made the ears of the hearer tingle, and his heart
throb--that she spoke at times to herself, and seemed to look upward
for a reply--that her garments were of a strange and mystic form,
unlike those of women of good repute--that she had rings impressed with
cabalistical devices, and that strange characters were broidered on her
veil.

All these circumstances, so natural and so trivial, were gravely
listened to as proofs, or, at least, as affording strong suspicions that
Rebecca had unlawful correspondence with mystical powers.

But there was less equivocal testimony, which the credulity of
the assembly, or of the greater part, greedily swallowed, however
incredible. One of the soldiers had seen her work a cure upon a wounded
man, brought with them to the castle of Torquilstone. She did, he said,
make certain signs upon the wound, and repeated certain mysterious
words, which he blessed God he understood not, when the iron head of a
square cross-bow bolt disengaged itself from the wound, the bleeding was
stanched, the wound was closed, and the dying man was, within a quarter
of an hour, walking upon the ramparts, and assisting the witness in
managing a mangonel, or machine for hurling stones. This legend was
probably founded upon the fact, that Rebecca had attended on the
wounded Ivanhoe when in the castle of Torquilstone. But it was the
more difficult to dispute the accuracy of the witness, as, in order to
produce real evidence in support of his verbal testimony, he drew from
his pouch the very bolt-head, which, according to his story, had been
miraculously extracted from the wound; and as the iron weighed a full
ounce, it completely confirmed the tale, however marvellous.

His comrade had been a witness from a neighbouring battlement of the
scene betwixt Rebecca and Bois-Guilbert, when she was upon the point of
precipitating herself from the top of the tower. Not to be behind his
companion, this fellow stated, that he had seen Rebecca perch herself
upon the parapet of the turret, and there take the form of a milk-white
swan, under which appearance she flitted three times round the castle of
Torquilstone; then again settle on the turret, and once more assume the
female form.

Less than one half of this weighty evidence would have been sufficient
to convict any old woman, poor and ugly, even though she had not been a
Jewess. United with that fatal circumstance, the body of proof was too
weighty for Rebecca's youth, though combined with the most exquisite
beauty.

The Grand Master had collected the suffrages, and now in a solemn
tone demanded of Rebecca what she had to say against the sentence of
condemnation, which he was about to pronounce.

"To invoke your pity," said the lovely Jewess, with a voice somewhat
tremulous with emotion, "would, I am aware, be as useless as I should
hold it mean. To state that to relieve the sick and wounded of another
religion, cannot be displeasing to the acknowledged Founder of both our
faiths, were also unavailing; to plead that many things which these men
(whom may Heaven pardon!) have spoken against me are impossible, would
avail me but little, since you believe in their possibility; and still
less would it advantage me to explain, that the peculiarities of my
dress, language, and manners, are those of my people--I had well-nigh
said of my country, but alas! we have no country. Nor will I even
vindicate myself at the expense of my oppressor, who stands there
listening to the fictions and surmises which seem to convert the tyrant
into the victim.--God be judge between him and me! but rather would I
submit to ten such deaths as your pleasure may denounce against me,
than listen to the suit which that man of Belial has urged upon
me--friendless, defenceless, and his prisoner. But he is of your own
faith, and his lightest affirmance would weigh down the most solemn
protestations of the distressed Jewess. I will not therefore return to
himself the charge brought against me--but to himself--Yes, Brian de
Bois-Guilbert, to thyself I appeal, whether these accusations are not
false? as monstrous and calumnious as they are deadly?"

There was a pause; all eyes turned to Brain de Bois-Guilbert. He was
silent.

"Speak," she said, "if thou art a man--if thou art a Christian,
speak!--I conjure thee, by the habit which thou dost wear, by the name
thou dost inherit--by the knighthood thou dost vaunt--by the honour of
thy mother--by the tomb and the bones of thy father--I conjure thee to
say, are these things true?"

"Answer her, brother," said the Grand Master, "if the Enemy with whom
thou dost wrestle will give thee power."

In fact, Bois-Guilbert seemed agitated by contending passions, which
almost convulsed his features, and it was with a constrained voice that
at last he replied, looking to Rebecca,--"The scroll!--the scroll!"

"Ay," said Beaumanoir, "this is indeed testimony! The victim of her
witcheries can only name the fatal scroll, the spell inscribed on which
is, doubtless, the cause of his silence."

But Rebecca put another interpretation on the words extorted as it were
from Bois-Guilbert, and glancing her eye upon the slip of parchment
which she continued to hold in her hand, she read written thereupon in
the Arabian character, "Demand a Champion!" The murmuring commentary
which ran through the assembly at the strange reply of Bois-Guilbert,
gave Rebecca leisure to examine and instantly to destroy the scroll
unobserved. When the whisper had ceased, the Grand Master spoke.

"Rebecca, thou canst derive no benefit from the evidence of this unhappy
knight, for whom, as we well perceive, the Enemy is yet too powerful.
Hast thou aught else to say?"

"There is yet one chance of life left to me," said Rebecca, "even by
your own fierce laws. Life has been miserable--miserable, at least, of
late--but I will not cast away the gift of God, while he affords me the
means of defending it. I deny this charge--I maintain my innocence, and
I declare the falsehood of this accusation--I challenge the privilege of
trial by combat, and will appear by my champion."

"And who, Rebecca," replied the Grand Master, "will lay lance in rest
for a sorceress? who will be the champion of a Jewess?"

"God will raise me up a champion," said Rebecca--"It cannot be that in
merry England--the hospitable, the generous, the free, where so many are
ready to peril their lives for honour, there will not be found one
to fight for justice. But it is enough that I challenge the trial by
combat--there lies my gage."

She took her embroidered glove from her hand, and flung it down before
the Grand Master with an air of mingled simplicity and dignity, which
excited universal surprise and admiration.




     ---There I throw my gage,
     To prove it on thee to the extremest point
     Of martial daring.
     --Richard II

Even Lucas Beaumanoir himself was affected by the mien and appearance
of Rebecca. He was not originally a cruel or even a severe man; but
with passions by nature cold, and with a high, though mistaken, sense of
duty, his heart had been gradually hardened by the ascetic life which he
pursued, the supreme power which he enjoyed, and the supposed necessity
of subduing infidelity and eradicating heresy, which he conceived
peculiarly incumbent on him. His features relaxed in their usual
severity as he gazed upon the beautiful creature before him, alone,
unfriended, and defending herself with so much spirit and courage. He
crossed himself twice, as doubting whence arose the unwonted softening
of a heart, which on such occasions used to resemble in hardness the
steel of his sword. At length he spoke.

"Damsel," he said, "if the pity I feel for thee arise from any practice
thine evil arts have made on me, great is thy guilt. But I rather judge
it the kinder feelings of nature, which grieves that so goodly a form
should be a vessel of perdition. Repent, my daughter--confess thy
witchcrafts--turn thee from thine evil faith--embrace this holy
emblem, and all shall yet be well with thee here and hereafter. In some
sisterhood of the strictest order, shalt thou have time for prayer and
fitting penance, and that repentance not to be repented of. This do and
live--what has the law of Moses done for thee that thou shouldest die
for it?"

"It was the law of my fathers," said Rebecca; "it was delivered in
thunders and in storms upon the mountain of Sinai, in cloud and in fire.
This, if ye are Christians, ye believe--it is, you say, recalled; but so
my teachers have not taught me."

"Let our chaplain," said Beaumanoir, "stand forth, and tell this
obstinate infidel--"

"Forgive the interruption," said Rebecca, meekly; "I am a maiden,
unskilled to dispute for my religion, but I can die for it, if it be
God's will.--Let me pray your answer to my demand of a champion."

"Give me her glove," said Beaumanoir. "This is indeed," he continued, as
he looked at the flimsy texture and slender fingers, "a slight and frail
gage for a purpose so deadly!--Seest thou, Rebecca, as this thin and
light glove of thine is to one of our heavy steel gauntlets, so is
thy cause to that of the Temple, for it is our Order which thou hast
defied."

"Cast my innocence into the scale," answered Rebecca, "and the glove of
silk shall outweigh the glove of iron."

"Then thou dost persist in thy refusal to confess thy guilt, and in that
bold challenge which thou hast made?"

"I do persist, noble sir," answered Rebecca.

"So be it then, in the name of Heaven," said the Grand Master; "and may
God show the right!"

"Amen," replied the Preceptors around him, and the word was deeply
echoed by the whole assembly.

"Brethren," said Beaumanoir, "you are aware that we might well have
refused to this woman the benefit of the trial by combat--but though a
Jewess and an unbeliever, she is also a stranger and defenceless, and
God forbid that she should ask the benefit of our mild laws, and that it
should be refused to her. Moreover, we are knights and soldiers as well
as men of religion, and shame it were to us upon any pretence, to
refuse proffered combat. Thus, therefore, stands the case. Rebecca,
the daughter of Isaac of York, is, by many frequent and suspicious
circumstances, defamed of sorcery practised on the person of a noble
knight of our holy Order, and hath challenged the combat in proof of her
innocence. To whom, reverend brethren, is it your opinion that we should
deliver the gage of battle, naming him, at the same time, to be our
champion on the field?"

"To Brian de Bois-Guilbert, whom it chiefly concerns," said the
Preceptor of Goodalricke, "and who, moreover, best knows how the truth
stands in this matter."

"But if," said the Grand Master, "our brother Brian be under the
influence of a charm or a spell--we speak but for the sake of
precaution, for to the arm of none of our holy Order would we more
willingly confide this or a more weighty cause."

"Reverend father," answered the Preceptor of Goodalricke, "no spell can
effect the champion who comes forward to fight for the judgment of God."

"Thou sayest right, brother," said the Grand Master. "Albert Malvoisin,
give this gage of battle to Brian de Bois-Guilbert.--It is our charge to
thee, brother," he continued, addressing himself to Bois-Guilbert, "that
thou do thy battle manfully, nothing doubting that the good cause shall
triumph.--And do thou, Rebecca, attend, that we assign thee the third
day from the present to find a champion."

"That is but brief space," answered Rebecca, "for a stranger, who is
also of another faith, to find one who will do battle, wagering life
and honour for her cause, against a knight who is called an approved
soldier."

"We may not extend it," answered the Grand Master; "the field must be
foughten in our own presence, and divers weighty causes call us on the
fourth day from hence."

"God's will be done!" said Rebecca; "I put my trust in Him, to whom an
instant is as effectual to save as a whole age."

"Thou hast spoken well, damsel," said the Grand Master; "but well know
we who can array himself like an angel of light. It remains but to name
a fitting place of combat, and, if it so hap, also of execution.--Where
is the Preceptor of this house?"

Albert Malvoisin, still holding Rebecca's glove in his hand, was
speaking to Bois-Guilbert very earnestly, but in a low voice.

"How!" said the Grand Master, "will he not receive the gage?"

"He will--he doth, most Reverend Father," said Malvoisin, slipping the
glove under his own mantle. "And for the place of combat, I hold the
fittest to be the lists of Saint George belonging to this Preceptory,
and used by us for military exercise."

"It is well," said the Grand Master.--"Rebecca, in those lists shalt
thou produce thy champion; and if thou failest to do so, or if thy
champion shall be discomfited by the judgment of God, thou shalt then
die the death of a sorceress, according to doom.--Let this our judgment
be recorded, and the record read aloud, that no one may pretend
ignorance."

One of the chaplains, who acted as clerks to the chapter, immediately
engrossed the order in a huge volume, which contained the proceedings of
the Templar Knights when solemnly assembled on such occasions; and when
he had finished writing, the other read aloud the sentence of the Grand
Master, which, when translated from the Norman-French in which it was
couched, was expressed as follows.--

"Rebecca, a Jewess, daughter of Isaac of York, being attainted of
sorcery, seduction, and other damnable practices, practised on a Knight
of the most Holy Order of the Temple of Zion, doth deny the same; and
saith, that the testimony delivered against her this day is false,
wicked, and disloyal; and that by lawful 'essoine' [54] of her body as
being unable to combat in her own behalf, she doth offer, by a champion
instead thereof, to avouch her case, he performing his loyal 'devoir' in
all knightly sort, with such arms as to gage of battle do fully
appertain, and that at her peril and cost. And therewith she proffered
her gage. And the gage having been delivered to the noble Lord and
Knight, Brian de Bois-Guilbert, of the Holy Order of the Temple of Zion,
he was appointed to do this battle, in behalf of his Order and himself,
as injured and impaired by the practices of the appellant. Wherefore the
most reverend Father and puissant Lord, Lucas Marquis of Beaumanoir, did
allow of the said challenge, and of the said 'essoine' of the
appellant's body, and assigned the third day for the said combat, the
place being the enclosure called the lists of Saint George, near to the
Preceptory of Templestowe. And the Grand Master appoints the appellant
to appear there by her champion, on pain of doom, as a person convicted
of sorcery or seduction; and also the defendant so to appear, under the
penalty of being held and adjudged recreant in case of default; and the
noble Lord and most reverend Father aforesaid appointed the battle to be
done in his own presence, and according to all that is commendable and
profitable in such a case. And may God aid the just cause!"

"Amen!" said the Grand Master; and the word was echoed by all around.
Rebecca spoke not, but she looked up to heaven, and, folding her hands,
remained for a minute without change of attitude. She then modestly
reminded the Grand Master, that she ought to be permitted some
opportunity of free communication with her friends, for the purpose of
making her condition known to them, and procuring, if possible, some
champion to fight in her behalf.

"It is just and lawful," said the Grand Master; "choose what messenger
thou shalt trust, and he shall have free communication with thee in thy
prison-chamber."

"Is there," said Rebecca, "any one here, who, either for love of a good
cause, or for ample hire, will do the errand of a distressed being?"

All were silent; for none thought it safe, in the presence of the Grand
Master, to avow any interest in the calumniated prisoner, lest he
should be suspected of leaning towards Judaism. Not even the prospect of
reward, far less any feelings of compassion alone, could surmount this
apprehension.

Rebecca stood for a few moments in indescribable anxiety, and then
exclaimed, "Is it really thus?--And, in English land, am I to be
deprived of the poor chance of safety which remains to me, for want of
an act of charity which would not be refused to the worst criminal?"

Higg, the son of Snell, at length replied, "I am but a maimed man,
but that I can at all stir or move was owing to her charitable
assistance.--I will do thine errand," he added, addressing Rebecca, "as
well as a crippled object can, and happy were my limbs fleet enough
to repair the mischief done by my tongue. Alas! when I boasted of thy
charity, I little thought I was leading thee into danger!"

"God," said Rebecca, "is the disposer of all. He can turn back the
captivity of Judah, even by the weakest instrument. To execute his
message the snail is as sure a messenger as the falcon. Seek out Isaac
of York--here is that will pay for horse and man--let him have this
scroll.--I know not if it be of Heaven the spirit which inspires me,
but most truly do I judge that I am not to die this death, and that a
champion will be raised up for me. Farewell!--Life and death are in thy
haste."

The peasant took the scroll, which contained only a few lines in Hebrew.
Many of the crowd would have dissuaded him from touching a document so
suspicious; but Higg was resolute in the service of his benefactress.
She had saved his body, he said, and he was confident she did not mean
to peril his soul.

"I will get me," he said, "my neighbour Buthan's good capul, [55] and I
will be at York within as brief space as man and beast may."

But as it fortuned, he had no occasion to go so far, for within a
quarter of a mile from the gate of the Preceptory he met with two
riders, whom, by their dress and their huge yellow caps, he knew to be
Jews; and, on approaching more nearly, discovered that one of them was
his ancient employer, Isaac of York. The other was the Rabbi Ben Samuel;
and both had approached as near to the Preceptory as they dared, on
hearing that the Grand Master had summoned a chapter for the trial of a
sorceress.

"Brother Ben Samuel," said Isaac, "my soul is disquieted, and I wot not
why. This charge of necromancy is right often used for cloaking evil
practices on our people."

"Be of good comfort, brother," said the physician; "thou canst deal with
the Nazarenes as one possessing the mammon of unrighteousness, and canst
therefore purchase immunity at their hands--it rules the savage minds of
those ungodly men, even as the signet of the mighty Solomon was said
to command the evil genii.--But what poor wretch comes hither upon his
crutches, desiring, as I think, some speech of me?--Friend," continued
the physician, addressing Higg, the son of Snell, "I refuse thee not the
aid of mine art, but I relieve not with one asper those who beg for alms
upon the highway. Out upon thee!--Hast thou the palsy in thy legs? then
let thy hands work for thy livelihood; for, albeit thou be'st unfit for
a speedy post, or for a careful shepherd, or for the warfare, or for the
service of a hasty master, yet there be occupations--How now, brother?"
said he, interrupting his harangue to look towards Isaac, who had but
glanced at the scroll which Higg offered, when, uttering a deep groan,
he fell from his mule like a dying man, and lay for a minute insensible.

The Rabbi now dismounted in great alarm, and hastily applied the
remedies which his art suggested for the recovery of his companion. He
had even taken from his pocket a cupping apparatus, and was about
to proceed to phlebotomy, when the object of his anxious solicitude
suddenly revived; but it was to dash his cap from his head, and to throw
dust on his grey hairs. The physician was at first inclined to ascribe
this sudden and violent emotion to the effects of insanity; and,
adhering to his original purpose, began once again to handle his
implements. But Isaac soon convinced him of his error.

"Child of my sorrow," he said, "well shouldst thou be called Benoni,
instead of Rebecca! Why should thy death bring down my grey hairs to the
grave, till, in the bitterness of my heart, I curse God and die!"

"Brother," said the Rabbi, in great surprise, "art thou a father in
Israel, and dost thou utter words like unto these?--I trust that the
child of thy house yet liveth?"

"She liveth," answered Isaac; "but it is as Daniel, who was called
Beltheshazzar, even when within the den of the lions. She is captive
unto those men of Belial, and they will wreak their cruelty upon her,
sparing neither for her youth nor her comely favour. O! she was as a
crown of green palms to my grey locks; and she must wither in a night,
like the gourd of Jonah!--Child of my love!--child of my old age!--oh,
Rebecca, daughter of Rachel! the darkness of the shadow of death hath
encompassed thee."

"Yet read the scroll," said the Rabbi; "peradventure it may be that we
may yet find out a way of deliverance."

"Do thou read, brother," answered Isaac, "for mine eyes are as a
fountain of water."

The physician read, but in their native language, the following words:--

"To Isaac, the son of Adonikam, whom the Gentiles call Isaac of York,
peace and the blessing of the promise be multiplied unto thee!--My
father, I am as one doomed to die for that which my soul knoweth
not--even for the crime of witchcraft. My father, if a strong man can be
found to do battle for my cause with sword and spear, according to the
custom of the Nazarenes, and that within the lists of Templestowe, on
the third day from this time, peradventure our fathers' God will give
him strength to defend the innocent, and her who hath none to help her.
But if this may not be, let the virgins of our people mourn for me as
for one cast off, and for the hart that is stricken by the hunter, and
for the flower which is cut down by the scythe of the mower. Wherefore
look now what thou doest, and whether there be any rescue. One Nazarene
warrior might indeed bear arms in my behalf, even Wilfred, son of
Cedric, whom the Gentiles call Ivanhoe. But he may not yet endure
the weight of his armour. Nevertheless, send the tidings unto him, my
father; for he hath favour among the strong men of his people, and as
he was our companion in the house of bondage, he may find some one to do
battle for my sake. And say unto him, even unto him, even unto Wilfred,
the son of Cedric, that if Rebecca live, or if Rebecca die, she liveth
or dieth wholly free of the guilt she is charged withal. And if it be
the will of God that thou shalt be deprived of thy daughter, do not
thou tarry, old man, in this land of bloodshed and cruelty; but betake
thyself to Cordova, where thy brother liveth in safety, under the shadow
of the throne, even of the throne of Boabdil the Saracen; for less
cruel are the cruelties of the Moors unto the race of Jacob, than the
cruelties of the Nazarenes of England."

Isaac listened with tolerable composure while Ben Samuel read the
letter, and then again resumed the gestures and exclamations of Oriental
sorrow, tearing his garments, besprinkling his head with dust, and
ejaculating, "My daughter! my daughter! flesh of my flesh, and bone of
my bone!"

"Yet," said the Rabbi, "take courage, for this grief availeth nothing.
Gird up thy loins, and seek out this Wilfred, the son of Cedric. It may
be he will help thee with counsel or with strength; for the youth hath
favour in the eyes of Richard, called of the Nazarenes Coeur-de-Lion,
and the tidings that he hath returned are constant in the land. It may
be that he may obtain his letter, and his signet, commanding these men
of blood, who take their name from the Temple to the dishonour thereof,
that they proceed not in their purposed wickedness."

"I will seek him out," said Isaac, "for he is a good youth, and hath
compassion for the exile of Jacob. But he cannot bear his armour, and
what other Christian shall do battle for the oppressed of Zion?"

"Nay, but," said the Rabbi, "thou speakest as one that knoweth not the
Gentiles. With gold shalt thou buy their valour, even as with gold thou
buyest thine own safety. Be of good courage, and do thou set forward to
find out this Wilfred of Ivanhoe. I will also up and be doing, for great
sin it were to leave thee in thy calamity. I will hie me to the city of
York, where many warriors and strong men are assembled, and doubt not I
will find among them some one who will do battle for thy daughter; for
gold is their god, and for riches will they pawn their lives as well as
their lands.--Thou wilt fulfil, my brother, such promise as I may make
unto them in thy name?"

"Assuredly, brother," said Isaac, "and Heaven be praised that raised me
up a comforter in my misery. Howbeit, grant them not their full demand
at once, for thou shalt find it the quality of this accursed people that
they will ask pounds, and peradventure accept of ounces--Nevertheless,
be it as thou willest, for I am distracted in this thing, and what would
my gold avail me if the child of my love should perish!"

"Farewell," said the physician, "and may it be to thee as thy heart
desireth."

They embraced accordingly, and departed on their several roads. The
crippled peasant remained for some time looking after them.

"These dog-Jews!" said he; "to take no more notice of a free
guild-brother, than if I were a bond slave or a Turk, or a circumcised
Hebrew like themselves! They might have flung me a mancus or two,
however. I was not obliged to bring their unhallowed scrawls, and run
the risk of being bewitched, as more folks than one told me. And what
care I for the bit of gold that the wench gave me, if I am to come to
harm from the priest next Easter at confession, and be obliged to give
him twice as much to make it up with him, and be called the Jew's
flying post all my life, as it may hap, into the bargain? I think I was
bewitched in earnest when I was beside that girl!--But it was always so
with Jew or Gentile, whosoever came near her--none could stay when she
had an errand to go--and still, whenever I think of her, I would give
shop and tools to save her life."




     O maid, unrelenting and cold as thou art,
     My bosom is proud as thine own.
     --Seward

It was in the twilight of the day when her trial, if it could be
called such, had taken place, that a low knock was heard at the door
of Rebecca's prison-chamber. It disturbed not the inmate, who was then
engaged in the evening prayer recommended by her religion, and which
concluded with a hymn we have ventured thus to translate into English.

     When Israel, of the Lord beloved,
     Out of the land of bondage came,
     Her father's God before her moved,
     An awful guide, in smoke and flame.
     By day, along the astonish'd lands
     The cloudy pillar glided slow;
     By night, Arabia's crimson'd sands
     Return'd the fiery column's glow.

     There rose the choral hymn of praise,
     And trump and timbrel answer'd keen,
     And Zion's daughters pour'd their lays,
     With priest's and warrior's voice between.
     No portents now our foes amaze,
     Forsaken Israel wanders lone;
     Our fathers would not know THY ways,
     And THOU hast left them to their own.

     But, present still, though now unseen;
     When brightly shines the prosperous day,
     Be thoughts of THEE a cloudy screen
     To temper the deceitful ray.
     And oh, when stoops on Judah's path
     In shade and storm the frequent night,
     Be THOU, long-suffering, slow to wrath,
     A burning, and a shining light!

     Our harps we left by Babel's streams,
     The tyrant's jest, the Gentile's scorn;
     No censer round our altar beams,
     And mute our timbrel, trump, and horn.
     But THOU hast said, the blood of goat,
     The flesh of rams, I will not prize;
     A contrite heart, and humble thought,
     Are mine accepted sacrifice.

When the sounds of Rebecca's devotional hymn had died away in silence,
the low knock at the door was again renewed. "Enter," she said, "if
thou art a friend; and if a foe, I have not the means of refusing thy
entrance."

"I am," said Brian de Bois-Guilbert, entering the apartment, "friend or
foe, Rebecca, as the event of this interview shall make me."

Alarmed at the sight of this man, whose licentious passion she
considered as the root of her misfortunes, Rebecca drew backward with
a cautious and alarmed, yet not a timorous demeanour, into the farthest
corner of the apartment, as if determined to retreat as far as she
could, but to stand her ground when retreat became no longer possible.
She drew herself into an attitude not of defiance, but of resolution,
as one that would avoid provoking assault, yet was resolute to repel it,
being offered, to the utmost of her power.

"You have no reason to fear me, Rebecca," said the Templar; "or if I
must so qualify my speech, you have at least NOW no reason to fear me."

"I fear you not, Sir Knight," replied Rebecca, although her short-drawn
breath seemed to belie the heroism of her accents; "my trust is strong,
and I fear thee not."

"You have no cause," answered Bois-Guilbert, gravely; "my former frantic
attempts you have not now to dread. Within your call are guards, over
whom I have no authority. They are designed to conduct you to death,
Rebecca, yet would not suffer you to be insulted by any one, even by me,
were my frenzy--for frenzy it is--to urge me so far."

"May Heaven be praised!" said the Jewess; "death is the least of my
apprehensions in this den of evil."

"Ay," replied the Templar, "the idea of death is easily received by the
courageous mind, when the road to it is sudden and open. A thrust with a
lance, a stroke with a sword, were to me little--To you, a spring from
a dizzy battlement, a stroke with a sharp poniard, has no terrors,
compared with what either thinks disgrace. Mark me--I say this--perhaps
mine own sentiments of honour are not less fantastic, Rebecca, than
thine are; but we know alike how to die for them."

"Unhappy man," said the Jewess; "and art thou condemned to expose thy
life for principles, of which thy sober judgment does not acknowledge
the solidity? Surely this is a parting with your treasure for that which
is not bread--but deem not so of me. Thy resolution may fluctuate on the
wild and changeful billows of human opinion, but mine is anchored on the
Rock of Ages."

"Silence, maiden," answered the Templar; "such discourse now avails but
little. Thou art condemned to die not a sudden and easy death, such as
misery chooses, and despair welcomes, but a slow, wretched, protracted
course of torture, suited to what the diabolical bigotry of these men
calls thy crime."

"And to whom--if such my fate--to whom do I owe this?" said Rebecca
"surely only to him, who, for a most selfish and brutal cause, dragged
me hither, and who now, for some unknown purpose of his own, strives to
exaggerate the wretched fate to which he exposed me."

"Think not," said the Templar, "that I have so exposed thee; I would
have bucklered thee against such danger with my own bosom, as freely as
ever I exposed it to the shafts which had otherwise reached thy life."

"Had thy purpose been the honourable protection of the innocent," said
Rebecca, "I had thanked thee for thy care--as it is, thou hast claimed
merit for it so often, that I tell thee life is worth nothing to me,
preserved at the price which thou wouldst exact for it."

"Truce with thine upbraidings, Rebecca," said the Templar; "I have my
own cause of grief, and brook not that thy reproaches should add to it."

"What is thy purpose, then, Sir Knight?" said the Jewess; "speak it
briefly.--If thou hast aught to do, save to witness the misery thou
hast caused, let me know it; and then, if so it please you, leave me to
myself--the step between time and eternity is short but terrible, and I
have few moments to prepare for it."

"I perceive, Rebecca," said Bois-Guilbert, "that thou dost continue to
burden me with the charge of distresses, which most fain would I have
prevented."

"Sir Knight," said Rebecca, "I would avoid reproaches--But what is more
certain than that I owe my death to thine unbridled passion?"

"You err--you err,"--said the Templar, hastily, "if you impute what
I could neither foresee nor prevent to my purpose or agency.--Could I
guess the unexpected arrival of yon dotard, whom some flashes of frantic
valour, and the praises yielded by fools to the stupid self-torments
of an ascetic, have raised for the present above his own merits, above
common sense, above me, and above the hundreds of our Order, who think
and feel as men free from such silly and fantastic prejudices as are the
grounds of his opinions and actions?"

"Yet," said Rebecca, "you sate a judge upon me, innocent--most
innocent--as you knew me to be--you concurred in my condemnation, and,
if I aright understood, are yourself to appear in arms to assert my
guilt, and assure my punishment."

"Thy patience, maiden," replied the Templar. "No race knows so well as
thine own tribes how to submit to the time, and so to trim their bark as
to make advantage even of an adverse wind."

"Lamented be the hour," said Rebecca, "that has taught such art to
the House of Israel! but adversity bends the heart as fire bends the
stubborn steel, and those who are no longer their own governors, and
the denizens of their own free independent state, must crouch before
strangers. It is our curse, Sir Knight, deserved, doubtless, by our own
misdeeds and those of our fathers; but you--you who boast your freedom
as your birthright, how much deeper is your disgrace when you stoop to
soothe the prejudices of others, and that against your own conviction?"

"Your words are bitter, Rebecca," said Bois-Guilbert, pacing the
apartment with impatience, "but I came not hither to bandy reproaches
with you.--Know that Bois-Guilbert yields not to created man, although
circumstances may for a time induce him to alter his plan. His will is
the mountain stream, which may indeed be turned for a little space aside
by the rock, but fails not to find its course to the ocean. That scroll
which warned thee to demand a champion, from whom couldst thou think it
came, if not from Bois-Guilbert? In whom else couldst thou have excited
such interest?"

"A brief respite from instant death," said Rebecca, "which will little
avail me--was this all thou couldst do for one, on whose head thou hast
heaped sorrow, and whom thou hast brought near even to the verge of the
tomb?"

"No maiden," said Bois-Guilbert, "this was NOT all that I purposed. Had
it not been for the accursed interference of yon fanatical dotard, and
the fool of Goodalricke, who, being a Templar, affects to think and
judge according to the ordinary rules of humanity, the office of the
Champion Defender had devolved, not on a Preceptor, but on a Companion
of the Order. Then I myself--such was my purpose--had, on the sounding
of the trumpet, appeared in the lists as thy champion, disguised indeed
in the fashion of a roving knight, who seeks adventures to prove his
shield and spear; and then, let Beaumanoir have chosen not one, but two
or three of the brethren here assembled, I had not doubted to cast them
out of the saddle with my single lance. Thus, Rebecca, should thine
innocence have been avouched, and to thine own gratitude would I have
trusted for the reward of my victory."

"This, Sir Knight," said Rebecca, "is but idle boasting--a brag of what
you would have done had you not found it convenient to do otherwise. You
received my glove, and my champion, if a creature so desolate can find
one, must encounter your lance in the lists--yet you would assume the
air of my friend and protector!"

"Thy friend and protector," said the Templar, gravely, "I will yet
be--but mark at what risk, or rather at what certainty, of dishonour;
and then blame me not if I make my stipulations, before I offer up all
that I have hitherto held dear, to save the life of a Jewish maiden."

"Speak," said Rebecca; "I understand thee not."

"Well, then," said Bois-Guilbert, "I will speak as freely as ever
did doting penitent to his ghostly father, when placed in the tricky
confessional.--Rebecca, if I appear not in these lists I lose fame and
rank--lose that which is the breath of my nostrils, the esteem, I mean,
in which I am held by my brethren, and the hopes I have of succeeding to
that mighty authority, which is now wielded by the bigoted dotard Lucas
de Beaumanoir, but of which I should make a different use. Such is my
certain doom, except I appear in arms against thy cause. Accursed be he
of Goodalricke, who baited this trap for me! and doubly accursed Albert
de Malvoisin, who withheld me from the resolution I had formed,
of hurling back the glove at the face of the superstitious and
superannuated fool, who listened to a charge so absurd, and against a
creature so high in mind, and so lovely in form as thou art!"

"And what now avails rant or flattery?" answered Rebecca. "Thou hast
made thy choice between causing to be shed the blood of an innocent
woman, or of endangering thine own earthly state and earthly hopes--What
avails it to reckon together?--thy choice is made."

"No, Rebecca," said the knight, in a softer tone, and drawing nearer
towards her; "my choice is NOT made--nay, mark, it is thine to make the
election. If I appear in the lists, I must maintain my name in arms;
and if I do so, championed or unchampioned, thou diest by the stake and
faggot, for there lives not the knight who hath coped with me in arms on
equal issue, or on terms of vantage, save Richard Coeur-de-Lion, and his
minion of Ivanhoe. Ivanhoe, as thou well knowest, is unable to bear
his corslet, and Richard is in a foreign prison. If I appear, then thou
diest, even although thy charms should instigate some hot-headed youth
to enter the lists in thy defence."

"And what avails repeating this so often?" said Rebecca.

"Much," replied the Templar; "for thou must learn to look at thy fate on
every side."

"Well, then, turn the tapestry," said the Jewess, "and let me see the
other side."

"If I appear," said Bois-Guilbert, "in the fatal lists, thou diest by a
slow and cruel death, in pain such as they say is destined to the guilty
hereafter. But if I appear not, then am I a degraded and dishonoured
knight, accused of witchcraft and of communion with infidels--the
illustrious name which has grown yet more so under my wearing, becomes a
hissing and a reproach. I lose fame, I lose honour, I lose the prospect
of such greatness as scarce emperors attain to--I sacrifice mighty
ambition, I destroy schemes built as high as the mountains with which
heathens say their heaven was once nearly scaled--and yet, Rebecca," he
added, throwing himself at her feet, "this greatness will I sacrifice,
this fame will I renounce, this power will I forego, even now when it
is half within my grasp, if thou wilt say, Bois-Guilbert, I receive thee
for my lover."

"Think not of such foolishness, Sir Knight," answered Rebecca, "but
hasten to the Regent, the Queen Mother, and to Prince John--they cannot,
in honour to the English crown, allow of the proceedings of your Grand
Master. So shall you give me protection without sacrifice on your part,
or the pretext of requiring any requital from me."

"With these I deal not," he continued, holding the train of her
robe--"it is thee only I address; and what can counterbalance thy
choice? Bethink thee, were I a fiend, yet death is a worse, and it is
death who is my rival."

"I weigh not these evils," said Rebecca, afraid to provoke the wild
knight, yet equally determined neither to endure his passion, nor even
feign to endure it. "Be a man, be a Christian! If indeed thy faith
recommends that mercy which rather your tongues than your actions
pretend, save me from this dreadful death, without seeking a requital
which would change thy magnanimity into base barter."

"No, damsel!" said the proud Templar, springing up, "thou shalt not thus
impose on me--if I renounce present fame and future ambition, I renounce
it for thy sake, and we will escape in company. Listen to me, Rebecca,"
he said, again softening his tone; "England,--Europe,--is not the
world. There are spheres in which we may act, ample enough even for my
ambition. We will go to Palestine, where Conrade, Marquis of Montserrat,
is my friend--a friend free as myself from the doting scruples which
fetter our free-born reason--rather with Saladin will we league
ourselves, than endure the scorn of the bigots whom we contemn.--I will
form new paths to greatness," he continued, again traversing the room
with hasty strides--"Europe shall hear the loud step of him she has
driven from her sons!--Not the millions whom her crusaders send to
slaughter, can do so much to defend Palestine--not the sabres of the
thousands and ten thousands of Saracens can hew their way so deep into
that land for which nations are striving, as the strength and policy of
me and those brethren, who, in despite of yonder old bigot, will adhere
to me in good and evil. Thou shalt be a queen, Rebecca--on Mount Carmel
shall we pitch the throne which my valour will gain for you, and I will
exchange my long-desired batoon for a sceptre!"

"A dream," said Rebecca; "an empty vision of the night, which, were it
a waking reality, affects me not. Enough, that the power which thou
mightest acquire, I will never share; nor hold I so light of country or
religious faith, as to esteem him who is willing to barter these ties,
and cast away the bonds of the Order of which he is a sworn member,
in order to gratify an unruly passion for the daughter of another
people.--Put not a price on my deliverance, Sir Knight--sell not a deed
of generosity--protect the oppressed for the sake of charity, and not
for a selfish advantage--Go to the throne of England; Richard will
listen to my appeal from these cruel men."

"Never, Rebecca!" said the Templar, fiercely. "If I renounce my Order,
for thee alone will I renounce it--Ambition shall remain mine, if thou
refuse my love; I will not be fooled on all hands.--Stoop my crest to
Richard?--ask a boon of that heart of pride?--Never, Rebecca, will I
place the Order of the Temple at his feet in my person. I may forsake
the Order, I never will degrade or betray it."

"Now God be gracious to me," said Rebecca, "for the succour of man is
well-nigh hopeless!"

"It is indeed," said the Templar; "for, proud as thou art, thou hast in
me found thy match. If I enter the lists with my spear in rest, think
not any human consideration shall prevent my putting forth my strength;
and think then upon thine own fate--to die the dreadful death of the
worst of criminals--to be consumed upon a blazing pile--dispersed to the
elements of which our strange forms are so mystically composed--not a
relic left of that graceful frame, from which we could say this lived
and moved!--Rebecca, it is not in woman to sustain this prospect--thou
wilt yield to my suit."

"Bois-Guilbert," answered the Jewess, "thou knowest not the heart
of woman, or hast only conversed with those who are lost to her best
feelings. I tell thee, proud Templar, that not in thy fiercest battles
hast thou displayed more of thy vaunted courage, than has been shown
by woman when called upon to suffer by affection or duty. I am myself a
woman, tenderly nurtured, naturally fearful of danger, and impatient
of pain--yet, when we enter those fatal lists, thou to fight and I to
suffer, I feel the strong assurance within me, that my courage shall
mount higher than thine. Farewell--I waste no more words on thee; the
time that remains on earth to the daughter of Jacob must be otherwise
spent--she must seek the Comforter, who may hide his face from his
people, but who ever opens his ear to the cry of those who seek him in
sincerity and in truth."

"We part then thus?" said the Templar, after a short pause; "would to
Heaven that we had never met, or that thou hadst been noble in birth and
Christian in faith!--Nay, by Heaven! when I gaze on thee, and think when
and how we are next to meet, I could even wish myself one of thine own
degraded nation; my hand conversant with ingots and shekels, instead of
spear and shield; my head bent down before each petty noble, and my look
only terrible to the shivering and bankrupt debtor--this could I wish,
Rebecca, to be near to thee in life, and to escape the fearful share I
must have in thy death."

"Thou hast spoken the Jew," said Rebecca, "as the persecution of such
as thou art has made him. Heaven in ire has driven him from his country,
but industry has opened to him the only road to power and to influence,
which oppression has left unbarred. Read the ancient history of the
people of God, and tell me if those, by whom Jehovah wrought such
marvels among the nations, were then a people of misers and of
usurers!--And know, proud knight, we number names amongst us to which
your boasted northern nobility is as the gourd compared with the
cedar--names that ascend far back to those high times when the Divine
Presence shook the mercy-seat between the cherubim, and which derive
their splendour from no earthly prince, but from the awful Voice, which
bade their fathers be nearest of the congregation to the Vision--Such
were the princes of the House of Jacob."

Rebecca's colour rose as she boasted the ancient glories of her race,
but faded as she added, with at sigh, "Such WERE the princes of Judah,
now such no more!--They are trampled down like the shorn grass, and
mixed with the mire of the ways. Yet are there those among them who
shame not such high descent, and of such shall be the daughter of Isaac
the son of Adonikam! Farewell!--I envy not thy blood-won honours--I envy
not thy barbarous descent from northern heathens--I envy thee not thy
faith, which is ever in thy mouth, but never in thy heart nor in thy
practice."

"There is a spell on me, by Heaven!" said Bois-Guilbert. "I almost think
yon besotted skeleton spoke truth, and that the reluctance with which
I part from thee hath something in it more than is natural.--Fair
creature!" he said, approaching near her, but with great respect,--"so
young, so beautiful, so fearless of death! and yet doomed to die, and
with infamy and agony. Who would not weep for thee?--The tear, that has
been a stranger to these eyelids for twenty years, moistens them as I
gaze on thee. But it must be--nothing may now save thy life. Thou and
I are but the blind instruments of some irresistible fatality, that
hurries us along, like goodly vessels driving before the storm, which
are dashed against each other, and so perish. Forgive me, then, and let
us part, at least, as friends part. I have assailed thy resolution in
vain, and mine own is fixed as the adamantine decrees of fate."

"Thus," said Rebecca, "do men throw on fate the issue of their own wild
passions. But I do forgive thee, Bois-Guilbert, though the author of my
early death. There are noble things which cross over thy powerful mind;
but it is the garden of the sluggard, and the weeds have rushed up, and
conspired to choke the fair and wholesome blossom."

"Yes," said the Templar, "I am, Rebecca, as thou hast spoken me,
untaught, untamed--and proud, that, amidst a shoal of empty fools and
crafty bigots, I have retained the preeminent fortitude that places me
above them. I have been a child of battle from my youth upward, high
in my views, steady and inflexible in pursuing them. Such must I
remain--proud, inflexible, and unchanging; and of this the world shall
have proof.--But thou forgivest me, Rebecca?"

"As freely as ever victim forgave her executioner."

"Farewell, then," said the Templar, and left the apartment.

The Preceptor Albert waited impatiently in an adjacent chamber the
return of Bois-Guilbert.

"Thou hast tarried long," he said; "I have been as if stretched on
red-hot iron with very impatience. What if the Grand Master, or his spy
Conrade, had come hither? I had paid dear for my complaisance.--But what
ails thee, brother?--Thy step totters, thy brow is as black as night.
Art thou well, Bois-Guilbert?"

"Ay," answered the Templar, "as well as the wretch who is doomed to die
within an hour.--Nay, by the rood, not half so well--for there be those
in such state, who can lay down life like a cast-off garment. By Heaven,
Malvoisin, yonder girl hath well-nigh unmanned me. I am half resolved to
go to the Grand Master, abjure the Order to his very teeth, and refuse
to act the brutality which his tyranny has imposed on me."

"Thou art mad," answered Malvoisin; "thou mayst thus indeed utterly ruin
thyself, but canst not even find a chance thereby to save the life of
this Jewess, which seems so precious in thine eyes. Beaumanoir will
name another of the Order to defend his judgment in thy place, and the
accused will as assuredly perish as if thou hadst taken the duty imposed
on thee."

"'Tis false--I will myself take arms in her behalf," answered the
Templar, haughtily; "and, should I do so, I think, Malvoisin, that thou
knowest not one of the Order, who will keep his saddle before the point
of my lance."

"Ay, but thou forgettest," said the wily adviser, "thou wilt have
neither leisure nor opportunity to execute this mad project. Go to Lucas
Beaumanoir, and say thou hast renounced thy vow of obedience, and see
how long the despotic old man will leave thee in personal freedom.
The words shall scarce have left thy lips, ere thou wilt either be an
hundred feet under ground, in the dungeon of the Preceptory, to abide
trial as a recreant knight; or, if his opinion holds concerning thy
possession, thou wilt be enjoying straw, darkness, and chains, in some
distant convent cell, stunned with exorcisms, and drenched with holy
water, to expel the foul fiend which hath obtained dominion over thee.
Thou must to the lists, Brian, or thou art a lost and dishonoured man."

"I will break forth and fly," said Bois-Guilbert--"fly to some distant
land, to which folly and fanaticism have not yet found their way. No
drop of the blood of this most excellent creature shall be spilled by my
sanction."

"Thou canst not fly," said the Preceptor; "thy ravings have excited
suspicion, and thou wilt not be permitted to leave the Preceptory. Go
and make the essay--present thyself before the gate, and command the
bridge to be lowered, and mark what answer thou shalt receive.--Thou are
surprised and offended; but is it not the better for thee? Wert thou
to fly, what would ensue but the reversal of thy arms, the dishonour of
thine ancestry, the degradation of thy rank?--Think on it. Where
shall thine old companions in arms hide their heads when Brian de
Bois-Guilbert, the best lance of the Templars, is proclaimed recreant,
amid the hisses of the assembled people? What grief will be at the Court
of France! With what joy will the haughty Richard hear the news, that
the knight that set him hard in Palestine, and well-nigh darkened his
renown, has lost fame and honour for a Jewish girl, whom he could not
even save by so costly a sacrifice!"

"Malvoisin," said the Knight, "I thank thee--thou hast touched the
string at which my heart most readily thrills!--Come of it what may,
recreant shall never be added to the name of Bois-Guilbert. Would to
God, Richard, or any of his vaunting minions of England, would appear in
these lists! But they will be empty--no one will risk to break a lance
for the innocent, the forlorn."

"The better for thee, if it prove so," said the Preceptor; "if no
champion appears, it is not by thy means that this unlucky damsel shall
die, but by the doom of the Grand Master, with whom rests all the blame,
and who will count that blame for praise and commendation."

"True," said Bois-Guilbert; "if no champion appears, I am but a part
of the pageant, sitting indeed on horseback in the lists, but having no
part in what is to follow."

"None whatever," said Malvoisin; "no more than the armed image of Saint
George when it makes part of a procession."

"Well, I will resume my resolution," replied the haughty Templar. "She
has despised me--repulsed me--reviled me--And wherefore should I offer
up for her whatever of estimation I have in the opinion of others?
Malvoisin, I will appear in the lists."

He left the apartment hastily as he uttered these words, and the
Preceptor followed, to watch and confirm him in his resolution; for in
Bois-Guilbert's fame he had himself a strong interest, expecting much
advantage from his being one day at the head of the Order, not to
mention the preferment of which Mont-Fitchet had given him hopes, on
condition he would forward the condemnation of the unfortunate Rebecca.
Yet although, in combating his friend's better feelings, he possessed
all the advantage which a wily, composed, selfish disposition has over
a man agitated by strong and contending passions, it required all
Malvoisin's art to keep Bois-Guilbert steady to the purpose he had
prevailed on him to adopt. He was obliged to watch him closely
to prevent his resuming his purpose of flight, to intercept his
communication with the Grand Master, lest he should come to an open
rupture with his Superior, and to renew, from time to time, the various
arguments by which he endeavoured to show, that, in appearing as
champion on this occasion, Bois-Guilbert, without either accelerating or
ensuring the fate of Rebecca, would follow the only course by which he
could save himself from degradation and disgrace.

 At Rebecca's trial the charges against Brian de Bois-Guilbert are read and tempered by the intimation that he was made devoid of reason by a supernatural power. Witnesses against Rebecca testify to her occult powers of healing and curious happenings concerning her appearance on the parapet at the storming of Torquilstone. Her beauty and innocent defense affect the crowd, but have little bearing on the outcome of the trial. At Brian de Bois-Guilbert's prompting she demands a champion to represent her in trial by combat and gains a reprieve. A peasant is sent at once to Isaac so that he may seek a champion. Bois-Gulbert, sensing that a champion may not be found, urges her to elope with him.

