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.




     ---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.





     KING JOHN.--I'll tell thee what, my friend,
     He is a very serpent in my way;
     And wheresoe'er this foot of mine doth tread,
     He lies before me.--Dost thou understand me?
     --King John

There was brave feasting in the Castle of York, to which Prince John
had invited those nobles, prelates, and leaders, by whose assistance he
hoped to carry through his ambitious projects upon his brother's throne.
Waldemar Fitzurse, his able and politic agent, was at secret work among
them, tempering all to that pitch of courage which was necessary in
making an open declaration of their purpose. But their enterprise was
delayed by the absence of more than one main limb of the confederacy.
The stubborn and daring, though brutal courage of Front-de-Boeuf; the
buoyant spirits and bold bearing of De Bracy; the sagacity, martial
experience, and renowned valour of Brian de Bois-Guilbert, were
important to the success of their conspiracy; and, while cursing in
secret their unnecessary and unmeaning absence, neither John nor his
adviser dared to proceed without them. Isaac the Jew also seemed to have
vanished, and with him the hope of certain sums of money, making up the
subsidy for which Prince John had contracted with that Israelite and his
brethren. This deficiency was likely to prove perilous in an emergency
so critical.

It was on the morning after the fall of Torquilstone, that a confused
report began to spread abroad in the city of York, that De Bracy and
Bois-Guilbert, with their confederate Front-de-Boeuf, had been taken or
slain. Waldemar brought the rumour to Prince John, announcing, that he
feared its truth the more that they had set out with a small attendance,
for the purpose of committing an assault on the Saxon Cedric and his
attendants. At another time the Prince would have treated this deed of
violence as a good jest; but now, that it interfered with and impeded
his own plans, he exclaimed against the perpetrators, and spoke of
the broken laws, and the infringement of public order and of private
property, in a tone which might have become King Alfred.

"The unprincipled marauders," he said--"were I ever to become monarch of
England, I would hang such transgressors over the drawbridges of their
own castles."

"But to become monarch of England," said his Ahithophel coolly, "it is
necessary not only that your Grace should endure the transgressions
of these unprincipled marauders, but that you should afford them your
protection, notwithstanding your laudable zeal for the laws they are in
the habit of infringing. We shall be finely helped, if the churl
Saxons should have realized your Grace's vision, of converting feudal
drawbridges into gibbets; and yonder bold-spirited Cedric seemeth one to
whom such an imagination might occur. Your Grace is well aware, it will
be dangerous to stir without Front-de-Boeuf, De Bracy, and the Templar;
and yet we have gone too far to recede with safety."

Prince John struck his forehead with impatience, and then began to
stride up and down the apartment.

"The villains," he said, "the base treacherous villains, to desert me at
this pinch!"

"Nay, say rather the feather-pated giddy madmen," said Waldemar, "who
must be toying with follies when such business was in hand."

"What is to be done?" said the Prince, stopping short before Waldemar.

"I know nothing which can be done," answered his counsellor, "save that
which I have already taken order for.--I came not to bewail this evil
chance with your Grace, until I had done my best to remedy it."

"Thou art ever my better angel, Waldemar," said the Prince; "and when
I have such a chancellor to advise withal, the reign of John will be
renowned in our annals.--What hast thou commanded?"

"I have ordered Louis Winkelbrand, De Bracy's lieutenant, to cause his
trumpet sound to horse, and to display his banner, and to set presently
forth towards the castle of Front-de-Boeuf, to do what yet may be done
for the succour of our friends."

Prince John's face flushed with the pride of a spoilt child, who has
undergone what it conceives to be an insult. "By the face of God!"
he said, "Waldemar Fitzurse, much hast thou taken upon thee! and over
malapert thou wert to cause trumpet to blow, or banner to be raised, in
a town where ourselves were in presence, without our express command."

"I crave your Grace's pardon," said Fitzurse, internally cursing the
idle vanity of his patron; "but when time pressed, and even the loss of
minutes might be fatal, I judged it best to take this much burden upon
me, in a matter of such importance to your Grace's interest."

"Thou art pardoned, Fitzurse," said the prince, gravely; "thy purpose
hath atoned for thy hasty rashness.--But whom have we here?--De Bracy
himself, by the rood!--and in strange guise doth he come before us."

It was indeed De Bracy--"bloody with spurring, fiery red with speed."
His armour bore all the marks of the late obstinate fray, being broken,
defaced, and stained with blood in many places, and covered with clay
and dust from the crest to the spur. Undoing his helmet, he placed it
on the table, and stood a moment as if to collect himself before he told
his news.

"De Bracy," said Prince John, "what means this?--Speak, I charge
thee!--Are the Saxons in rebellion?"

"Speak, De Bracy," said Fitzurse, almost in the same moment with his
master, "thou wert wont to be a man--Where is the Templar?--where
Front-de-Boeuf?"

"The Templar is fled," said De Bracy; "Front-de-Boeuf you will never
see more. He has found a red grave among the blazing rafters of his own
castle and I alone am escaped to tell you."

"Cold news," said Waldemar, "to us, though you speak of fire and
conflagration."

"The worst news is not yet said," answered De Bracy; and, coming up
to Prince John, he uttered in a low and emphatic tone--"Richard is in
England--I have seen and spoken with him."

Prince John turned pale, tottered, and caught at the back of an oaken
bench to support himself--much like to a man who receives an arrow in
his bosom.

"Thou ravest, De Bracy," said Fitzurse, "it cannot be."

"It is as true as truth itself," said De Bracy; "I was his prisoner, and
spoke with him."

"With Richard Plantagenet, sayest thou?" continued Fitzurse.

"With Richard Plantagenet," replied De Bracy, "with Richard
Coeur-de-Lion--with Richard of England."

"And thou wert his prisoner?" said Waldemar; "he is then at the head of
a power?"

"No--only a few outlawed yeomen were around him, and to these his person
is unknown. I heard him say he was about to depart from them. He joined
them only to assist at the storming of Torquilstone."

"Ay," said Fitzurse, "such is indeed the fashion of Richard--a true
knight-errant he, and will wander in wild adventure, trusting the
prowess of his single arm, like any Sir Guy or Sir Bevis, while
the weighty affairs of his kingdom slumber, and his own safety is
endangered.--What dost thou propose to do De Bracy?"

"I?--I offered Richard the service of my Free Lances, and he refused
them--I will lead them to Hull, seize on shipping, and embark for
Flanders; thanks to the bustling times, a man of action will always find
employment. And thou, Waldemar, wilt thou take lance and shield, and lay
down thy policies, and wend along with me, and share the fate which God
sends us?"

"I am too old, Maurice, and I have a daughter," answered Waldemar.

"Give her to me, Fitzurse, and I will maintain her as fits her rank,
with the help of lance and stirrup," said De Bracy.

"Not so," answered Fitzurse; "I will take sanctuary in this church of
Saint Peter--the Archbishop is my sworn brother."

During this discourse, Prince John had gradually awakened from the
stupor into which he had been thrown by the unexpected intelligence,
and had been attentive to the conversation which passed betwixt his
followers. "They fall off from me," he said to himself, "they hold no
more by me than a withered leaf by the bough when a breeze blows on
it!--Hell and fiends! can I shape no means for myself when I am deserted
by these cravens?"--He paused, and there was an expression of diabolical
passion in the constrained laugh with which he at length broke in on
their conversation.

"Ha, ha, ha! my good lords, by the light of Our Lady's brow, I held ye
sage men, bold men, ready-witted men; yet ye throw down wealth, honour,
pleasure, all that our noble game promised you, at the moment it might
be won by one bold cast!"

"I understand you not," said De Bracy. "As soon as Richard's return is
blown abroad, he will be at the head of an army, and all is then over
with us. I would counsel you, my lord, either to fly to France or take
the protection of the Queen Mother."

"I seek no safety for myself," said Prince John, haughtily; "that I
could secure by a word spoken to my brother. But although you, De Bracy,
and you, Waldemar Fitzurse, are so ready to abandon me, I should not
greatly delight to see your heads blackening on Clifford's gate yonder.
Thinkest thou, Waldemar, that the wily Archbishop will not suffer thee
to be taken from the very horns of the altar, would it make his
peace with King Richard? And forgettest thou, De Bracy, that Robert
Estoteville lies betwixt thee and Hull with all his forces, and that the
Earl of Essex is gathering his followers? If we had reason to fear these
levies even before Richard's return, trowest thou there is any doubt
now which party their leaders will take? Trust me, Estoteville alone has
strength enough to drive all thy Free Lances into the Humber."--Waldemar
Fitzurse and De Bracy looked in each other's faces with blank
dismay.--"There is but one road to safety," continued the Prince, and
his brow grew black as midnight; "this object of our terror journeys
alone--He must be met withal."

"Not by me," said De Bracy, hastily; "I was his prisoner, and he took me
to mercy. I will not harm a feather in his crest."

"Who spoke of harming him?" said Prince John, with a hardened laugh;
"the knave will say next that I meant he should slay him!--No--a prison
were better; and whether in Britain or Austria, what matters it?--Things
will be but as they were when we commenced our enterprise--It was
founded on the hope that Richard would remain a captive in Germany--Our
uncle Robert lived and died in the castle of Cardiffe."

"Ay, but," said Waldemar, "your sire Henry sate more firm in his seat
than your Grace can. I say the best prison is that which is made by the
sexton--no dungeon like a church-vault! I have said my say."

"Prison or tomb," said De Bracy, "I wash my hands of the whole matter."

"Villain!" said Prince John, "thou wouldst not bewray our counsel?"

"Counsel was never bewrayed by me," said De Bracy, haughtily, "nor must
the name of villain be coupled with mine!"

"Peace, Sir Knight!" said Waldemar; "and you, good my lord, forgive the
scruples of valiant De Bracy; I trust I shall soon remove them."

"That passes your eloquence, Fitzurse," replied the Knight.

"Why, good Sir Maurice," rejoined the wily politician, "start not aside
like a scared steed, without, at least, considering the object of your
terror.--This Richard--but a day since, and it would have been thy
dearest wish to have met him hand to hand in the ranks of battle--a
hundred times I have heard thee wish it."

"Ay," said De Bracy, "but that was as thou sayest, hand to hand, and
in the ranks of battle! Thou never heardest me breathe a thought of
assaulting him alone, and in a forest."

"Thou art no good knight if thou dost scruple at it," said Waldemar.
"Was it in battle that Lancelot de Lac and Sir Tristram won renown? or
was it not by encountering gigantic knights under the shade of deep and
unknown forests?"

"Ay, but I promise you," said De Bracy, "that neither Tristram nor
Lancelot would have been match, hand to hand, for Richard Plantagenet,
and I think it was not their wont to take odds against a single man."

"Thou art mad, De Bracy--what is it we propose to thee, a hired and
retained captain of Free Companions, whose swords are purchased for
Prince John's service? Thou art apprized of our enemy, and then thou
scruplest, though thy patron's fortunes, those of thy comrades, thine
own, and the life and honour of every one amongst us, be at stake!"

"I tell you," said De Bracy, sullenly, "that he gave me my life. True,
he sent me from his presence, and refused my homage--so far I owe him
neither favour nor allegiance--but I will not lift hand against him."

"It needs not--send Louis Winkelbrand and a score of thy lances."

"Ye have sufficient ruffians of your own," said De Bracy; "not one of
mine shall budge on such an errand."

"Art thou so obstinate, De Bracy?" said Prince John; "and wilt thou
forsake me, after so many protestations of zeal for my service?"

"I mean it not," said De Bracy; "I will abide by you in aught that
becomes a knight, whether in the lists or in the camp; but this highway
practice comes not within my vow."

"Come hither, Waldemar," said Prince John. "An unhappy prince am I. My
father, King Henry, had faithful servants--He had but to say that he was
plagued with a factious priest, and the blood of Thomas-a-Becket, saint
though he was, stained the steps of his own altar.--Tracy, Morville,
Brito [47] loyal and daring subjects, your names, your spirit, are
extinct! and although Reginald Fitzurse hath left a son, he hath fallen
off from his father's fidelity and courage."

"He has fallen off from neither," said Waldemar Fitzurse; "and since
it may not better be, I will take on me the conduct of this perilous
enterprise. Dearly, however, did my father purchase the praise of a
zealous friend; and yet did his proof of loyalty to Henry fall far short
of what I am about to afford; for rather would I assail a whole calendar
of saints, than put spear in rest against Coeur-de-Lion.--De Bracy, to
thee I must trust to keep up the spirits of the doubtful, and to guard
Prince John's person. If you receive such news as I trust to send you,
our enterprise will no longer wear a doubtful aspect.--Page," he said,
"hie to my lodgings, and tell my armourer to be there in readiness; and
bid Stephen Wetheral, Broad Thoresby, and the Three Spears of Spyinghow,
come to me instantly; and let the scout-master, Hugh Bardon, attend me
also.--Adieu, my Prince, till better times." Thus speaking, he left the
apartment. "He goes to make my brother prisoner," said Prince John to De
Bracy, "with as little touch of compunction, as if it but concerned the
liberty of a Saxon franklin. I trust he will observe our orders, and use
our dear Richard's person with all due respect."

De Bracy only answered by a smile.

"By the light of Our Lady's brow," said Prince John, "our orders to
him were most precise--though it may be you heard them not, as we stood
together in the oriel window--Most clear and positive was our charge
that Richard's safety should be cared for, and woe to Waldemar's head if
he transgress it!"

"I had better pass to his lodgings," said De Bracy, "and make him fully
aware of your Grace's pleasure; for, as it quite escaped my ear, it may
not perchance have reached that of Waldemar."

"Nay, nay," said Prince John, impatiently, "I promise thee he heard me;
and, besides, I have farther occupation for thee. Maurice, come hither;
let me lean on thy shoulder."

They walked a turn through the hall in this familiar posture, and Prince
John, with an air of the most confidential intimacy, proceeded to say,
"What thinkest thou of this Waldemar Fitzurse, my De Bracy?--He trusts
to be our Chancellor. Surely we will pause ere we give an office so high
to one who shows evidently how little he reverences our blood, by his so
readily undertaking this enterprise against Richard. Thou dost think,
I warrant, that thou hast lost somewhat of our regard, by thy boldly
declining this unpleasing task--But no, Maurice! I rather honour thee
for thy virtuous constancy. There are things most necessary to be done,
the perpetrator of which we neither love nor honour; and there may be
refusals to serve us, which shall rather exalt in our estimation those
who deny our request. The arrest of my unfortunate brother forms no
such good title to the high office of Chancellor, as thy chivalrous and
courageous denial establishes in thee to the truncheon of High Marshal.
Think of this, De Bracy, and begone to thy charge."

"Fickle tyrant!" muttered De Bracy, as he left the presence of the
Prince; "evil luck have they who trust thee. Thy Chancellor, indeed!--He
who hath the keeping of thy conscience shall have an easy charge, I
trow. But High Marshal of England! that," he said, extending his arm, as
if to grasp the baton of office, and assuming a loftier stride along the
antechamber, "that is indeed a prize worth playing for!"

De Bracy had no sooner left the apartment than Prince John summoned an
attendant.

"Bid Hugh Bardon, our scout-master, come hither, as soon as he shall
have spoken with Waldemar Fitzurse."

The scout-master arrived after a brief delay, during which John
traversed the apartment with, unequal and disordered steps.

"Bardon," said he, "what did Waldemar desire of thee?"

"Two resolute men, well acquainted with these northern wilds, and
skilful in tracking the tread of man and horse."

"And thou hast fitted him?"

"Let your grace never trust me else," answered the master of the spies.
"One is from Hexamshire; he is wont to trace the Tynedale and Teviotdale
thieves, as a bloodhound follows the slot of a hurt deer. The other
is Yorkshire bred, and has twanged his bowstring right oft in merry
Sherwood; he knows each glade and dingle, copse and high-wood, betwixt
this and Richmond."

"'Tis well," said the Prince.--"Goes Waldemar forth with them?"

"Instantly," said Bardon.

"With what attendance?" asked John, carelessly.

"Broad Thoresby goes with him, and Wetheral, whom they call, for his
cruelty, Stephen Steel-heart; and three northern men-at-arms that
belonged to Ralph Middleton's gang--they are called the Spears of
Spyinghow."

"'Tis well," said Prince John; then added, after a moment's pause,
"Bardon, it imports our service that thou keep a strict watch on Maurice
De Bracy--so that he shall not observe it, however--And let us know
of his motions from time to time--with whom he converses, what he
proposeth. Fail not in this, as thou wilt be answerable."

Hugh Bardon bowed, and retired.

"If Maurice betrays me," said Prince John--"if he betrays me, as his
bearing leads me to fear, I will have his head, were Richard thundering
at the gates of York."




     Arouse the tiger of Hyrcanian deserts,
     Strive with the half-starved lion for his prey;
     Lesser the risk, than rouse the slumbering fire
     Of wild Fanaticism.
     --Anonymus

Our tale now returns to Isaac of York.--Mounted upon a mule, the gift of
the Outlaw, with two tall yeomen to act as his guard and guides, the
Jew had set out for the Preceptory of Templestowe, for the purpose of
negotiating his daughter's redemption. The Preceptory was but a day's
journey from the demolished castle of Torquilstone, and the Jew had
hoped to reach it before nightfall; accordingly, having dismissed his
guides at the verge of the forest, and rewarded them with a piece of
silver, he began to press on with such speed as his weariness permitted
him to exert. But his strength failed him totally ere he had reached
within four miles of the Temple-Court; racking pains shot along his back
and through his limbs, and the excessive anguish which he felt at heart
being now augmented by bodily suffering, he was rendered altogether
incapable of proceeding farther than a small market-town, were dwelt
a Jewish Rabbi of his tribe, eminent in the medical profession, and
to whom Isaac was well known. Nathan Ben Israel received his suffering
countryman with that kindness which the law prescribed, and which the
Jews practised to each other. He insisted on his betaking himself to
repose, and used such remedies as were then in most repute to check the
progress of the fever, which terror, fatigue, ill usage, and sorrow, had
brought upon the poor old Jew.

On the morrow, when Isaac proposed to arise and pursue his journey,
Nathan remonstrated against his purpose, both as his host and as his
physician. It might cost him, he said, his life. But Isaac replied,
that more than life and death depended upon his going that morning to
Templestowe.

"To Templestowe!" said his host with surprise again felt his pulse,
and then muttered to himself, "His fever is abated, yet seems his mind
somewhat alienated and disturbed."

"And why not to Templestowe?" answered his patient. "I grant thee,
Nathan, that it is a dwelling of those to whom the despised Children of
the Promise are a stumbling-block and an abomination; yet thou knowest
that pressing affairs of traffic sometimes carry us among these
bloodthirsty Nazarene soldiers, and that we visit the Preceptories of
the Templars, as well as the Commanderies of the Knights Hospitallers,
as they are called." [48]

"I know it well," said Nathan; "but wottest thou that Lucas de
Beaumanoir, the chief of their Order, and whom they term Grand Master,
is now himself at Templestowe?"

"I know it not," said Isaac; "our last letters from our brethren at
Paris advised us that he was at that city, beseeching Philip for aid
against the Sultan Saladine."

"He hath since come to England, unexpected by his brethren," said Ben
Israel; "and he cometh among them with a strong and outstretched arm to
correct and to punish. His countenance is kindled in anger against those
who have departed from the vow which they have made, and great is the
fear of those sons of Belial. Thou must have heard of his name?"

"It is well known unto me," said Isaac; "the Gentiles deliver this Lucas
Beaumanoir as a man zealous to slaying for every point of the Nazarene
law; and our brethren have termed him a fierce destroyer of the
Saracens, and a cruel tyrant to the Children of the Promise."

"And truly have they termed him," said Nathan the physician. "Other
Templars may be moved from the purpose of their heart by pleasure, or
bribed by promise of gold and silver; but Beaumanoir is of a different
stamp--hating sensuality, despising treasure, and pressing forward to
that which they call the crown of martyrdom--The God of Jacob speedily
send it unto him, and unto them all! Specially hath this proud man
extended his glove over the children of Judah, as holy David over Edom,
holding the murder of a Jew to be an offering of as sweet savour as the
death of a Saracen. Impious and false things has he said even of the
virtues of our medicines, as if they were the devices of Satan--The Lord
rebuke him!"

"Nevertheless," said Isaac, "I must present myself at Templestowe,
though he hath made his face like unto a fiery furnace seven times
heated."

He then explained to Nathan the pressing cause of his journey. The Rabbi
listened with interest, and testified his sympathy after the fashion of
his people, rending his clothes, and saying, "Ah, my daughter!--ah, my
daughter!--Alas! for the beauty of Zion!--Alas! for the captivity of
Israel!"

"Thou seest," said Isaac, "how it stands with me, and that I may not
tarry. Peradventure, the presence of this Lucas Beaumanoir, being the
chief man over them, may turn Brian de Bois-Guilbert from the ill which
he doth meditate, and that he may deliver to me my beloved daughter
Rebecca."

"Go thou," said Nathan Ben Israel, "and be wise, for wisdom availed
Daniel in the den of lions into which he was cast; and may it go well
with thee, even as thine heart wisheth. Yet, if thou canst, keep thee
from the presence of the Grand Master, for to do foul scorn to our
people is his morning and evening delight. It may be if thou couldst
speak with Bois-Guilbert in private, thou shalt the better prevail with
him; for men say that these accursed Nazarenes are not of one mind in
the Preceptory--May their counsels be confounded and brought to shame!
But do thou, brother, return to me as if it were to the house of thy
father, and bring me word how it has sped with thee; and well do I hope
thou wilt bring with thee Rebecca, even the scholar of the wise Miriam,
whose cures the Gentiles slandered as if they had been wrought by
necromancy."

Isaac accordingly bade his friend farewell, and about an hour's riding
brought him before the Preceptory of Templestowe.

This establishment of the Templars was seated amidst fair meadows and
pastures, which the devotion of the former Preceptor had bestowed upon
their Order. It was strong and well fortified, a point never neglected
by these knights, and which the disordered state of England rendered
peculiarly necessary. Two halberdiers, clad in black, guarded the
drawbridge, and others, in the same sad livery, glided to and fro upon
the walls with a funereal pace, resembling spectres more than soldiers.
The inferior officers of the Order were thus dressed, ever since their
use of white garments, similar to those of the knights and esquires, had
given rise to a combination of certain false brethren in the mountains
of Palestine, terming themselves Templars, and bringing great dishonour
on the Order. A knight was now and then seen to cross the court in his
long white cloak, his head depressed on his breast, and his arms folded.
They passed each other, if they chanced to meet, with a slow, solemn,
and mute greeting; for such was the rule of their Order, quoting
thereupon the holy texts, "In many words thou shalt not avoid sin," and
"Life and death are in the power of the tongue." In a word, the
stern ascetic rigour of the Temple discipline, which had been so long
exchanged for prodigal and licentious indulgence, seemed at once to have
revived at Templestowe under the severe eye of Lucas Beaumanoir.

Isaac paused at the gate, to consider how he might seek entrance in the
manner most likely to bespeak favour; for he was well aware, that to his
unhappy race the reviving fanaticism of the Order was not less dangerous
than their unprincipled licentiousness; and that his religion would be
the object of hate and persecution in the one case, as his wealth
would have exposed him in the other to the extortions of unrelenting
oppression.

Meantime Lucas Beaumanoir walked in a small garden belonging to the
Preceptory, included within the precincts of its exterior fortification,
and held sad and confidential communication with a brother of his Order,
who had come in his company from Palestine.

The Grand Master was a man advanced in age, as was testified by his long
grey beard, and the shaggy grey eyebrows overhanging eyes, of which,
however, years had been unable to quench the fire. A formidable warrior,
his thin and severe features retained the soldier's fierceness of
expression; an ascetic bigot, they were no less marked by the emaciation
of abstinence, and the spiritual pride of the self-satisfied devotee.
Yet with these severer traits of physiognomy, there was mixed somewhat
striking and noble, arising, doubtless, from the great part which his
high office called upon him to act among monarchs and princes, and
from the habitual exercise of supreme authority over the valiant and
high-born knights, who were united by the rules of the Order. His
stature was tall, and his gait, undepressed by age and toil, was
erect and stately. His white mantle was shaped with severe regularity,
according to the rule of Saint Bernard himself, being composed of what
was then called Burrel cloth, exactly fitted to the size of the wearer,
and bearing on the left shoulder the octangular cross peculiar to the
Order, formed of red cloth. No vair or ermine decked this garment; but
in respect of his age, the Grand Master, as permitted by the rules, wore
his doublet lined and trimmed with the softest lambskin, dressed with
the wool outwards, which was the nearest approach he could regularly
make to the use of fur, then the greatest luxury of dress. In his hand
he bore that singular "abacus", or staff of office, with which Templars
are usually represented, having at the upper end a round plate, on which
was engraved the cross of the Order, inscribed within a circle or orle,
as heralds term it. His companion, who attended on this great personage,
had nearly the same dress in all respects, but his extreme deference
towards his Superior showed that no other equality subsisted between
them. The Preceptor, for such he was in rank, walked not in a line with
the Grand Master, but just so far behind that Beaumanoir could speak to
him without turning round his head.

"Conrade," said the Grand Master, "dear companion of my battles and my
toils, to thy faithful bosom alone I can confide my sorrows. To thee
alone can I tell how oft, since I came to this kingdom, I have desired
to be dissolved and to be with the just. Not one object in England hath
met mine eye which it could rest upon with pleasure, save the tombs of
our brethren, beneath the massive roof of our Temple Church in yonder
proud capital. O, valiant Robert de Ros! did I exclaim internally, as I
gazed upon these good soldiers of the cross, where they lie sculptured
on their sepulchres,--O, worthy William de Mareschal! open your marble
cells, and take to your repose a weary brother, who would rather strive
with a hundred thousand pagans than witness the decay of our Holy
Order!"

"It is but true," answered Conrade Mont-Fitchet; "it is but too true;
and the irregularities of our brethren in England are even more gross
than those in France."

"Because they are more wealthy," answered the Grand Master. "Bear with
me, brother, although I should something vaunt myself. Thou knowest the
life I have led, keeping each point of my Order, striving with devils
embodied and disembodied, striking down the roaring lion, who goeth
about seeking whom he may devour, like a good knight and devout
priest, wheresoever I met with him--even as blessed Saint Bernard hath
prescribed to us in the forty-fifth capital of our rule, 'Ut Leo semper
feriatur'. [49]

"But by the Holy Temple! the zeal which hath devoured my substance and
my life, yea, the very nerves and marrow of my bones; by that very Holy
Temple I swear to thee, that save thyself and some few that still retain
the ancient severity of our Order, I look upon no brethren whom I can
bring my soul to embrace under that holy name. What say our statutes,
and how do our brethren observe them? They should wear no vain or
worldly ornament, no crest upon their helmet, no gold upon stirrup or
bridle-bit; yet who now go pranked out so proudly and so gaily as the
poor soldiers of the Temple? They are forbidden by our statutes to take
one bird by means of another, to shoot beasts with bow or arblast, to
halloo to a hunting-horn, or to spur the horse after game. But now,
at hunting and hawking, and each idle sport of wood and river, who so
prompt as the Templars in all these fond vanities? They are forbidden
to read, save what their Superior permitted, or listen to what is
read, save such holy things as may be recited aloud during the hours of
refaction; but lo! their ears are at the command of idle minstrels, and
their eyes study empty romaunts. They were commanded to extirpate magic
and heresy. Lo! they are charged with studying the accursed cabalistical
secrets of the Jews, and the magic of the Paynim Saracens. Simpleness
of diet was prescribed to them, roots, pottage, gruels, eating flesh
but thrice a-week, because the accustomed feeding on flesh is a
dishonourable corruption of the body; and behold, their tables groan
under delicate fare! Their drink was to be water, and now, to drink like
a Templar, is the boast of each jolly boon companion! This very garden,
filled as it is with curious herbs and trees sent from the Eastern
climes, better becomes the harem of an unbelieving Emir, than the
plot which Christian Monks should devote to raise their homely
pot-herbs.--And O, Conrade! well it were that the relaxation of
discipline stopped even here!--Well thou knowest that we were forbidden
to receive those devout women, who at the beginning were associated
as sisters of our Order, because, saith the forty-sixth chapter, the
Ancient Enemy hath, by female society, withdrawn many from the right
path to paradise. Nay, in the last capital, being, as it were, the
cope-stone which our blessed founder placed on the pure and undefiled
doctrine which he had enjoined, we are prohibited from offering, even to
our sisters and our mothers, the kiss of affection--'ut omnium
mulierum fugiantur oscula'.--I shame to speak--I shame to think--of the
corruptions which have rushed in upon us even like a flood. The souls
of our pure founders, the spirits of Hugh de Payen and Godfrey de Saint
Omer, and of the blessed Seven who first joined in dedicating their
lives to the service of the Temple, are disturbed even in the enjoyment
of paradise itself. I have seen them, Conrade, in the visions of the
night--their sainted eyes shed tears for the sins and follies of their
brethren, and for the foul and shameful luxury in which they wallow.
Beaumanoir, they say, thou slumberest--awake! There is a stain in the
fabric of the Temple, deep and foul as that left by the streaks of
leprosy on the walls of the infected houses of old. [50]

"The soldiers of the Cross, who should shun the glance of a woman as the
eye of a basilisk, live in open sin, not with the females of their own
race only, but with the daughters of the accursed heathen, and more
accursed Jew. Beaumanoir, thou sleepest; up, and avenge our cause!--Slay
the sinners, male and female!--Take to thee the brand of Phineas!--The
vision fled, Conrade, but as I awaked I could still hear the clank of
their mail, and see the waving of their white mantles.--And I will do
according to their word, I WILL purify the fabric of the Temple! and the
unclean stones in which the plague is, I will remove and cast out of the
building."

"Yet bethink thee, reverend father," said Mont-Fitchet, "the stain
hath become engrained by time and consuetude; let thy reformation be
cautious, as it is just and wise."

"No, Mont-Fitchet," answered the stern old man--"it must be sharp
and sudden--the Order is on the crisis of its fate. The sobriety,
self-devotion, and piety of our predecessors, made us powerful
friends--our presumption, our wealth, our luxury, have raised up
against us mighty enemies.--We must cast away these riches, which are
a temptation to princes--we must lay down that presumption, which is
an offence to them--we must reform that license of manners, which is a
scandal to the whole Christian world! Or--mark my words--the Order of
the Temple will be utterly demolished--and the Place thereof shall no
more be known among the nations."

"Now may God avert such a calamity!" said the Preceptor.

"Amen," said the Grand Master, with solemnity, "but we must deserve his
aid. I tell thee, Conrade, that neither the powers in Heaven, nor
the powers on earth, will longer endure the wickedness of this
generation--My intelligence is sure--the ground on which our fabric is
reared is already undermined, and each addition we make to the structure
of our greatness will only sink it the sooner in the abyss. We must
retrace our steps, and show ourselves the faithful Champions of
the Cross, sacrificing to our calling, not alone our blood and our
lives--not alone our lusts and our vices--but our ease, our comforts,
and our natural affections, and act as men convinced that many a
pleasure which may be lawful to others, is forbidden to the vowed
soldier of the Temple."

At this moment a squire, clothed in a threadbare vestment, (for the
aspirants after this holy Order wore during their noviciate the cast-off
garments of the knights,) entered the garden, and, bowing profoundly
before the Grand Master, stood silent, awaiting his permission ere he
presumed to tell his errand.

"Is it not more seemly," said the Grand Master, "to see this Damian,
clothed in the garments of Christian humility, thus appear with reverend
silence before his Superior, than but two days since, when the fond fool
was decked in a painted coat, and jangling as pert and as proud as any
popinjay?--Speak, Damian, we permit thee--What is thine errand?"

"A Jew stands without the gate, noble and reverend father," said the
Squire, "who prays to speak with brother Brian de Bois-Guilbert."

"Thou wert right to give me knowledge of it," said the Grand Master; "in
our presence a Preceptor is but as a common compeer of our Order, who
may not walk according to his own will, but to that of his Master--even
according to the text, 'In the hearing of the ear he hath obeyed
me.'--It imports us especially to know of this Bois-Guilbert's
proceedings," said he, turning to his companion.

"Report speaks him brave and valiant," said Conrade.

"And truly is he so spoken of," said the Grand Master; "in our valour
only we are not degenerated from our predecessors, the heroes of the
Cross. But brother Brian came into our Order a moody and disappointed
man, stirred, I doubt me, to take our vows and to renounce the world,
not in sincerity of soul, but as one whom some touch of light discontent
had driven into penitence. Since then, he hath become an active and
earnest agitator, a murmurer, and a machinator, and a leader amongst
those who impugn our authority; not considering that the rule is given
to the Master even by the symbol of the staff and the rod--the staff to
support the infirmities of the weak--the rod to correct the faults of
delinquents.--Damian," he continued, "lead the Jew to our presence."

The squire departed with a profound reverence, and in a few minutes
returned, marshalling in Isaac of York. No naked slave, ushered into the
presence of some mighty prince, could approach his judgment-seat with
more profound reverence and terror than that with which the Jew drew
near to the presence of the Grand Master. When he had approached within
the distance of three yards, Beaumanoir made a sign with his staff that
he should come no farther. The Jew kneeled down on the earth which he
kissed in token of reverence; then rising, stood before the Templars,
his hands folded on his bosom, his head bowed on his breast, in all the
submission of Oriental slavery.

"Damian," said the Grand Master, "retire, and have a guard ready to
await our sudden call; and suffer no one to enter the garden until we
shall leave it."--The squire bowed and retreated.--"Jew," continued the
haughty old man, "mark me. It suits not our condition to hold with
thee long communication, nor do we waste words or time upon any one.
Wherefore be brief in thy answers to what questions I shall ask thee,
and let thy words be of truth; for if thy tongue doubles with me, I will
have it torn from thy misbelieving jaws."

The Jew was about to reply, but the Grand Master went on.

"Peace, unbeliever!--not a word in our presence, save in answer to
our questions.--What is thy business with our brother Brian de
Bois-Guilbert?"

Isaac gasped with terror and uncertainty. To tell his tale might be
interpreted into scandalizing the Order; yet, unless he told it, what
hope could he have of achieving his daughter's deliverance? Beaumanoir
saw his mortal apprehension, and condescended to give him some
assurance.

"Fear nothing," he said, "for thy wretched person, Jew, so thou dealest
uprightly in this matter. I demand again to know from thee thy business
with Brian de Bois-Guilbert?"

"I am bearer of a letter," stammered out the Jew, "so please your
reverend valour, to that good knight, from Prior Aymer of the Abbey of
Jorvaulx."

"Said I not these were evil times, Conrade?" said the Master. "A
Cistertian Prior sends a letter to a soldier of the Temple, and can find
no more fitting messenger than an unbelieving Jew.--Give me the letter."

The Jew, with trembling hands, undid the folds of his Armenian cap, in
which he had deposited the Prior's tablets for the greater security, and
was about to approach, with hand extended and body crouched, to place it
within the reach of his grim interrogator.

"Back, dog!" said the Grand Master; "I touch not misbelievers, save with
the sword.--Conrade, take thou the letter from the Jew, and give it to
me."

Beaumanoir, being thus possessed of the tablets, inspected the outside
carefully, and then proceeded to undo the packthread which secured its
folds. "Reverend father," said Conrade, interposing, though with much
deference, "wilt thou break the seal?"

"And will I not?" said Beaumanoir, with a frown. "Is it not written in
the forty-second capital, 'De Lectione Literarum' that a Templar shall
not receive a letter, no not from his father, without communicating the
same to the Grand Master, and reading it in his presence?"

He then perused the letter in haste, with an expression of surprise and
horror; read it over again more slowly; then holding it out to Conrade
with one hand, and slightly striking it with the other, exclaimed--"Here
is goodly stuff for one Christian man to write to another, and both
members, and no inconsiderable members, of religious professions! When,"
said he solemnly, and looking upward, "wilt thou come with thy fanners
to purge the thrashing-floor?"

Mont-Fitchet took the letter from his Superior, and was about to peruse
it.

"Read it aloud, Conrade," said the Grand Master,--"and do thou"
(to Isaac) "attend to the purport of it, for we will question thee
concerning it."

Conrade read the letter, which was in these words: "Aymer, by divine
grace, Prior of the Cistertian house of Saint Mary's of Jorvaulx, to
Sir Brian de Bois-Guilbert, a Knight of the holy Order of the Temple,
wisheth health, with the bounties of King Bacchus and of my Lady Venus.
Touching our present condition, dear Brother, we are a captive in the
hands of certain lawless and godless men, who have not feared to detain
our person, and put us to ransom; whereby we have also learned of
Front-de-Boeuf's misfortune, and that thou hast escaped with that fair
Jewish sorceress, whose black eyes have bewitched thee. We are heartily
rejoiced of thy safety; nevertheless, we pray thee to be on thy guard in
the matter of this second Witch of Endor; for we are privately assured
that your Great Master, who careth not a bean for cherry cheeks and
black eyes, comes from Normandy to diminish your mirth, and amend your
misdoings. Wherefore we pray you heartily to beware, and to be found
watching, even as the Holy Text hath it, 'Invenientur vigilantes'. And
the wealthy Jew her father, Isaac of York, having prayed of me letters
in his behalf, I gave him these, earnestly advising, and in a sort
entreating, that you do hold the damsel to ransom, seeing he will pay
you from his bags as much as may find fifty damsels upon safer terms,
whereof I trust to have my part when we make merry together, as true
brothers, not forgetting the wine-cup. For what saith the text, 'Vinum
laetificat cor hominis'; and again, 'Rex delectabitur pulchritudine
tua'.

"Till which merry meeting, we wish you farewell. Given from this den of
thieves, about the hour of matins,

"Aymer Pr. S. M. Jorvolciencis.

"'Postscriptum.' Truly your golden chain hath not long abidden with me,
and will now sustain, around the neck of an outlaw deer-stealer, the
whistle wherewith he calleth on his hounds."

"What sayest thou to this, Conrade?" said the Grand Master--"Den of
thieves! and a fit residence is a den of thieves for such a Prior. No
wonder that the hand of God is upon us, and that in the Holy Land we
lose place by place, foot by foot, before the infidels, when we have
such churchmen as this Aymer.--And what meaneth he, I trow, by this
second Witch of Endor?" said he to his confident, something apart.
Conrade was better acquainted (perhaps by practice) with the jargon of
gallantry, than was his Superior; and he expounded the passage which
embarrassed the Grand Master, to be a sort of language used by worldly
men towards those whom they loved 'par amours'; but the explanation did
not satisfy the bigoted Beaumanoir.

"There is more in it than thou dost guess, Conrade; thy simplicity is
no match for this deep abyss of wickedness. This Rebecca of York was a
pupil of that Miriam of whom thou hast heard. Thou shalt hear the Jew
own it even now." Then turning to Isaac, he said aloud, "Thy daughter,
then, is prisoner with Brian de Bois-Guilbert?"

"Ay, reverend valorous sir," stammered poor Isaac, "and whatsoever
ransom a poor man may pay for her deliverance---"

"Peace!" said the Grand Master. "This thy daughter hath practised the
art of healing, hath she not?"

"Ay, gracious sir," answered the Jew, with more confidence; "and knight
and yeoman, squire and vassal, may bless the goodly gift which Heaven
hath assigned to her. Many a one can testify that she hath recovered
them by her art, when every other human aid hath proved vain; but the
blessing of the God of Jacob was upon her."

Beaumanoir turned to Mont-Fitchet with a grim smile. "See, brother,"
he said, "the deceptions of the devouring Enemy! Behold the baits
with which he fishes for souls, giving a poor space of earthly life in
exchange for eternal happiness hereafter. Well said our blessed
rule, 'Semper percutiatur leo vorans'.--Up on the lion! Down with the
destroyer!" said he, shaking aloft his mystic abacus, as if in defiance
of the powers of darkness--"Thy daughter worketh the cures, I doubt
not," thus he went on to address the Jew, "by words and sighs, and
periapts, and other cabalistical mysteries."

"Nay, reverend and brave Knight," answered Isaac, "but in chief measure
by a balsam of marvellous virtue."

"Where had she that secret?" said Beaumanoir.

"It was delivered to her," answered Isaac, reluctantly, "by Miriam, a
sage matron of our tribe."

"Ah, false Jew!" said the Grand Master; "was it not from that same
witch Miriam, the abomination of whose enchantments have been heard of
throughout every Christian land?" exclaimed the Grand Master, crossing
himself. "Her body was burnt at a stake, and her ashes were scattered to
the four winds; and so be it with me and mine Order, if I do not as
much to her pupil, and more also! I will teach her to throw spell and
incantation over the soldiers of the blessed Temple.--There, Damian,
spurn this Jew from the gate--shoot him dead if he oppose or turn again.
With his daughter we will deal as the Christian law and our own high
office warrant."

Poor Isaac was hurried off accordingly, and expelled from the
preceptory; all his entreaties, and even his offers, unheard and
disregarded. He could do not better than return to the house of the
Rabbi, and endeavour, through his means, to learn how his daughter was
to be disposed of. He had hitherto feared for her honour, he was now
to tremble for her life. Meanwhile, the Grand Master ordered to his
presence the Preceptor of Templestowe.




     Say not my art is fraud--all live by seeming.
     The beggar begs with it, and the gay courtier
     Gains land and title, rank and rule, by seeming;
     The clergy scorn it not, and the bold soldier
     Will eke with it his service.--All admit it,
     All practise it; and he who is content
     With showing what he is, shall have small credit
     In church, or camp, or state--So wags the world.
     --Old Play

Albert Malvoisin, President, or, in the language of the Order, Preceptor
of the establishment of Templestowe, was brother to that Philip
Malvoisin who has been already occasionally mentioned in this history,
and was, like that baron, in close league with Brian de Bois-Guilbert.

Amongst dissolute and unprincipled men, of whom the Temple Order
included but too many, Albert of Templestowe might be distinguished; but
with this difference from the audacious Bois-Guilbert, that he knew how
to throw over his vices and his ambition the veil of hypocrisy, and to
assume in his exterior the fanaticism which he internally despised.
Had not the arrival of the Grand Master been so unexpectedly sudden,
he would have seen nothing at Templestowe which might have appeared to
argue any relaxation of discipline. And, even although surprised, and,
to a certain extent, detected, Albert Malvoisin listened with such
respect and apparent contrition to the rebuke of his Superior, and made
such haste to reform the particulars he censured,--succeeded, in fine,
so well in giving an air of ascetic devotion to a family which had been
lately devoted to license and pleasure, that Lucas Beaumanoir began to
entertain a higher opinion of the Preceptor's morals, than the first
appearance of the establishment had inclined him to adopt.

But these favourable sentiments on the part of the Grand Master were
greatly shaken by the intelligence that Albert had received within a
house of religion the Jewish captive, and, as was to be feared, the
paramour of a brother of the Order; and when Albert appeared before him,
he was regarded with unwonted sternness.

"There is in this mansion, dedicated to the purposes of the holy Order
of the Temple," said the Grand Master, in a severe tone, "a Jewish
woman, brought hither by a brother of religion, by your connivance, Sir
Preceptor."

Albert Malvoisin was overwhelmed with confusion; for the unfortunate
Rebecca had been confined in a remote and secret part of the building,
and every precaution used to prevent her residence there from being
known. He read in the looks of Beaumanoir ruin to Bois-Guilbert and to
himself, unless he should be able to avert the impending storm.

"Why are you mute?" continued the Grand Master.

"Is it permitted to me to reply?" answered the Preceptor, in a tone of
the deepest humility, although by the question he only meant to gain an
instant's space for arranging his ideas.

"Speak, you are permitted," said the Grand Master--"speak, and say,
knowest thou the capital of our holy rule,--'De commilitonibus Templi
in sancta civitate, qui cum miserrimis mulieribus versantur, propter
oblectationem carnis?'" [51]

"Surely, most reverend father," answered the Preceptor, "I have not
risen to this office in the Order, being ignorant of one of its most
important prohibitions."

"How comes it, then, I demand of thee once more, that thou hast suffered
a brother to bring a paramour, and that paramour a Jewish sorceress,
into this holy place, to the stain and pollution thereof?"

"A Jewish sorceress!" echoed Albert Malvoisin; "good angels guard us!"

"Ay, brother, a Jewish sorceress!" said the Grand Master, sternly. "I
have said it. Darest thou deny that this Rebecca, the daughter of that
wretched usurer Isaac of York, and the pupil of the foul witch
Miriam, is now--shame to be thought or spoken!--lodged within this thy
Preceptory?"

"Your wisdom, reverend father," answered the Preceptor, "hath rolled
away the darkness from my understanding. Much did I wonder that so good
a knight as Brian de Bois-Guilbert seemed so fondly besotted on the
charms of this female, whom I received into this house merely to place a
bar betwixt their growing intimacy, which else might have been cemented
at the expense of the fall of our valiant and religious brother."

"Hath nothing, then, as yet passed betwixt them in breach of his vow?"
demanded the Grand Master.

"What! under this roof?" said the Preceptor, crossing himself; "Saint
Magdalene and the ten thousand virgins forbid!--No! if I have sinned in
receiving her here, it was in the erring thought that I might thus break
off our brother's besotted devotion to this Jewess, which seemed to me
so wild and unnatural, that I could not but ascribe it to some touch of
insanity, more to be cured by pity than reproof. But since your reverend
wisdom hath discovered this Jewish queen to be a sorceress, perchance it
may account fully for his enamoured folly."

"It doth!--it doth!" said Beaumanoir. "See, brother Conrade, the peril
of yielding to the first devices and blandishments of Satan! We look
upon woman only to gratify the lust of the eye, and to take pleasure
in what men call her beauty; and the Ancient Enemy, the devouring Lion,
obtains power over us, to complete, by talisman and spell, a work
which was begun by idleness and folly. It may be that our brother
Bois-Guilbert does in this matter deserve rather pity than severe
chastisement; rather the support of the staff, than the strokes of the
rod; and that our admonitions and prayers may turn him from his folly,
and restore him to his brethren."

"It were deep pity," said Conrade Mont-Fitchet, "to lose to the Order
one of its best lances, when the Holy Community most requires the aid of
its sons. Three hundred Saracens hath this Brian de Bois-Guilbert slain
with his own hand."

"The blood of these accursed dogs," said the Grand Master, "shall be a
sweet and acceptable offering to the saints and angels whom they despise
and blaspheme; and with their aid will we counteract the spells and
charms with which our brother is entwined as in a net. He shall burst
the bands of this Delilah, as Sampson burst the two new cords with which
the Philistines had bound him, and shall slaughter the infidels, even
heaps upon heaps. But concerning this foul witch, who hath flung her
enchantments over a brother of the Holy Temple, assuredly she shall die
the death."

"But the laws of England,"--said the Preceptor, who, though delighted
that the Grand Master's resentment, thus fortunately averted from
himself and Bois-Guilbert, had taken another direction, began now to
fear he was carrying it too far.

"The laws of England," interrupted Beaumanoir, "permit and enjoin each
judge to execute justice within his own jurisdiction. The most petty
baron may arrest, try, and condemn a witch found within his own domain.
And shall that power be denied to the Grand Master of the Temple within
a preceptory of his Order?--No!--we will judge and condemn. The witch
shall be taken out of the land, and the wickedness thereof shall be
forgiven. Prepare the Castle-hall for the trial of the sorceress."

Albert Malvoisin bowed and retired,--not to give directions for
preparing the hall, but to seek out Brian de Bois-Guilbert, and
communicate to him how matters were likely to terminate. It was not
long ere he found him, foaming with indignation at a repulse he had
anew sustained from the fair Jewess. "The unthinking," he said, "the
ungrateful, to scorn him who, amidst blood and flames, would have saved
her life at the risk of his own! By Heaven, Malvoisin! I abode until
roof and rafters crackled and crashed around me. I was the butt of a
hundred arrows; they rattled on mine armour like hailstones against
a latticed casement, and the only use I made of my shield was for her
protection. This did I endure for her; and now the self-willed girl
upbraids me that I did not leave her to perish, and refuses me not only
the slightest proof of gratitude, but even the most distant hope that
ever she will be brought to grant any. The devil, that possessed her
race with obstinacy, has concentrated its full force in her single
person!"

"The devil," said the Preceptor, "I think, possessed you both. How oft
have I preached to you caution, if not continence? Did I not tell you
that there were enough willing Christian damsels to be met with, who
would think it sin to refuse so brave a knight 'le don d'amoureux
merci', and you must needs anchor your affection on a wilful, obstinate
Jewess! By the mass, I think old Lucas Beaumanoir guesses right, when he
maintains she hath cast a spell over you."

"Lucas Beaumanoir!"--said Bois-Guilbert reproachfully--"Are these your
precautions, Malvoisin? Hast thou suffered the dotard to learn that
Rebecca is in the Preceptory?"

"How could I help it?" said the Preceptor. "I neglected nothing that
could keep secret your mystery; but it is betrayed, and whether by the
devil or no, the devil only can tell. But I have turned the matter as I
could; you are safe if you renounce Rebecca. You are pitied--the victim
of magical delusion. She is a sorceress, and must suffer as such."

"She shall not, by Heaven!" said Bois-Guilbert.

"By Heaven, she must and will!" said Malvoisin. "Neither you nor any
one else can save her. Lucas Beaumanoir hath settled that the death of
a Jewess will be a sin-offering sufficient to atone for all the amorous
indulgences of the Knights Templars; and thou knowest he hath both the
power and will to execute so reasonable and pious a purpose."

"Will future ages believe that such stupid bigotry ever existed!" said
Bois-Guilbert, striding up and down the apartment.

"What they may believe, I know not," said Malvoisin, calmly; "but I know
well, that in this our day, clergy and laymen, take ninety-nine to the
hundred, will cry 'amen' to the Grand Master's sentence."

"I have it," said Bois-Guilbert. "Albert, thou art my friend. Thou must
connive at her escape, Malvoisin, and I will transport her to some place
of greater security and secrecy."

"I cannot, if I would," replied the Preceptor; "the mansion is filled
with the attendants of the Grand Master, and others who are devoted to
him. And, to be frank with you, brother, I would not embark with you
in this matter, even if I could hope to bring my bark to haven. I have
risked enough already for your sake. I have no mind to encounter a
sentence of degradation, or even to lose my Preceptory, for the sake
of a painted piece of Jewish flesh and blood. And you, if you will be
guided by my counsel, will give up this wild-goose chase, and fly your
hawk at some other game. Think, Bois-Guilbert,--thy present rank, thy
future honours, all depend on thy place in the Order. Shouldst thou
adhere perversely to thy passion for this Rebecca, thou wilt give
Beaumanoir the power of expelling thee, and he will not neglect it. He
is jealous of the truncheon which he holds in his trembling gripe, and
he knows thou stretchest thy bold hand towards it. Doubt not he will
ruin thee, if thou affordest him a pretext so fair as thy protection of
a Jewish sorceress. Give him his scope in this matter, for thou canst
not control him. When the staff is in thine own firm grasp, thou mayest
caress the daughters of Judah, or burn them, as may best suit thine own
humour."

"Malvoisin," said Bois-Guilbert, "thou art a cold-blooded--"

"Friend," said the Preceptor, hastening to fill up the blank, in which
Bois-Guilbert would probably have placed a worse word,--"a cold-blooded
friend I am, and therefore more fit to give thee advice. I tell thee
once more, that thou canst not save Rebecca. I tell thee once more,
thou canst but perish with her. Go hie thee to the Grand Master--throw
thyself at his feet and tell him--"

"Not at his feet, by Heaven! but to the dotard's very beard will I
say--"

"Say to him, then, to his beard," continued Malvoisin, coolly, "that you
love this captive Jewess to distraction; and the more thou dost enlarge
on thy passion, the greater will be his haste to end it by the death of
the fair enchantress; while thou, taken in flagrant delict by the avowal
of a crime contrary to thine oath, canst hope no aid of thy brethren,
and must exchange all thy brilliant visions of ambition and power, to
lift perhaps a mercenary spear in some of the petty quarrels between
Flanders and Burgundy."

"Thou speakest the truth, Malvoisin," said Brian de Bois-Guilbert, after
a moment's reflection. "I will give the hoary bigot no advantage over
me; and for Rebecca, she hath not merited at my hand that I should
expose rank and honour for her sake. I will cast her off--yes, I will
leave her to her fate, unless--"

"Qualify not thy wise and necessary resolution," said Malvoisin; "women
are but the toys which amuse our lighter hours--ambition is the serious
business of life. Perish a thousand such frail baubles as this Jewess,
before thy manly step pause in the brilliant career that lies stretched
before thee! For the present we part, nor must we be seen to hold close
conversation--I must order the hall for his judgment-seat."

"What!" said Bois-Guilbert, "so soon?"

"Ay," replied the Preceptor, "trial moves rapidly on when the judge has
determined the sentence beforehand."

"Rebecca," said Bois-Guilbert, when he was left alone, "thou art like
to cost me dear--Why cannot I abandon thee to thy fate, as this calm
hypocrite recommends?--One effort will I make to save thee--but beware
of ingratitude! for if I am again repulsed, my vengeance shall equal my
love. The life and honour of Bois-Guilbert must not be hazarded, where
contempt and reproaches are his only reward."

The Preceptor had hardly given the necessary orders, when he was joined
by Conrade Mont-Fitchet, who acquainted him with the Grand Master's
resolution to bring the Jewess to instant trial for sorcery.

"It is surely a dream," said the Preceptor; "we have many Jewish
physicians, and we call them not wizards though they work wonderful
cures."

"The Grand Master thinks otherwise," said Mont-Fitchet; "and, Albert,
I will be upright with thee--wizard or not, it were better that this
miserable damsel die, than that Brian de Bois-Guilbert should be lost to
the Order, or the Order divided by internal dissension. Thou knowest his
high rank, his fame in arms--thou knowest the zeal with which many of
our brethren regard him--but all this will not avail him with our Grand
Master, should he consider Brian as the accomplice, not the victim, of
this Jewess. Were the souls of the twelve tribes in her single body, it
were better she suffered alone, than that Bois-Guilbert were partner in
her destruction."

"I have been working him even now to abandon her," said Malvoisin;
"but still, are there grounds enough to condemn this Rebecca for
sorcery?--Will not the Grand Master change his mind when he sees that
the proofs are so weak?"

"They must be strengthened, Albert," replied Mont-Fitchet, "they must be
strengthened. Dost thou understand me?"

"I do," said the Preceptor, "nor do I scruple to do aught for
advancement of the Order--but there is little time to find engines
fitting."

"Malvoisin, they MUST be found," said Conrade; "well will it advantage
both the Order and thee. This Templestowe is a poor Preceptory--that of
Maison-Dieu is worth double its value--thou knowest my interest with our
old Chief--find those who can carry this matter through, and thou art
Preceptor of Maison-Dieu in the fertile Kent--How sayst thou?"

"There is," replied Malvoisin, "among those who came hither with
Bois-Guilbert, two fellows whom I well know; servants they were to my
brother Philip de Malvoisin, and passed from his service to that of
Front-de-Boeuf--It may be they know something of the witcheries of this
woman."

"Away, seek them out instantly--and hark thee, if a byzant or two will
sharpen their memory, let them not be wanting."

"They would swear the mother that bore them a sorceress for a zecchin,"
said the Preceptor.

"Away, then," said Mont-Fitchet; "at noon the affair will proceed. I
have not seen our senior in such earnest preparation since he condemned
to the stake Hamet Alfagi, a convert who relapsed to the Moslem faith."

The ponderous castle-bell had tolled the point of noon, when Rebecca
heard a trampling of feet upon the private stair which led to her place
of confinement. The noise announced the arrival of several persons, and
the circumstance rather gave her joy; for she was more afraid of the
solitary visits of the fierce and passionate Bois-Guilbert than of
any evil that could befall her besides. The door of the chamber was
unlocked, and Conrade and the Preceptor Malvoisin entered, attended by
four warders clothed in black, and bearing halberds.

"Daughter of an accursed race!" said the Preceptor, "arise and follow
us."

"Whither," said Rebecca, "and for what purpose?"

"Damsel," answered Conrade, "it is not for thee to question, but to
obey. Nevertheless, be it known to thee, that thou art to be brought
before the tribunal of the Grand Master of our holy Order, there to
answer for thine offences."

"May the God of Abraham be praised!" said Rebecca, folding her hands
devoutly; "the name of a judge, though an enemy to my people, is to me
as the name of a protector. Most willingly do I follow thee--permit me
only to wrap my veil around my head."

They descended the stair with slow and solemn step, traversed a long
gallery, and, by a pair of folding doors placed at the end, entered the
great hall in which the Grand Master had for the time established his
court of justice.

The lower part of this ample apartment was filled with squires and
yeomen, who made way not without some difficulty for Rebecca, attended
by the Preceptor and Mont-Fitchet, and followed by the guard of
halberdiers, to move forward to the seat appointed for her. As she
passed through the crowd, her arms folded and her head depressed, a
scrap of paper was thrust into her hand, which she received almost
unconsciously, and continued to hold without examining its contents. The
assurance that she possessed some friend in this awful assembly gave
her courage to look around, and to mark into whose presence she had
been conducted. She gazed, accordingly, upon the scene, which we shall
endeavour to describe in the next chapter.

 The Saxons and their liberators now meet at Locksley's trysting place in the forest. Here, out of gratitude for his role in the battle, Cedric grants Gurth his freedom. When the spoils from the castle are divided, the Black Knight takes his due, but Cedric proudly refuses a share of his Norman captor's wealth. The Black Knight also frees de Bracy, though he warns him that if he does not behave more honorably in the future, a worse fate than captivity will befall him. The Friar arrives leading Isaac, whom he has "captured," by a rope; Isaac, the Friar, and Prior Aymer debate ransom payments for Isaac and the Prior. The Friar and the Black Knight argue, and good-naturedly exchange blows. When Isaac learns that Rebecca has been kidnapped by Brian de Bois-Guilbert, he is despondent; to secure his freedom, Prior Aymer agrees to write a letter to de Bois-Guilbert urging him to let the girl go. As Isaac sets out for the stronghold of the Knights-Templars, the Saxons bid farewell to Locksley and his merry men, preparing for the somber task of returning Athelstane's body to his castle. De Bracy hurries to Prince John, to whom he declares that Richard has returned to England. He also tells him of Front-de-Boeuf's death and of de Bois-Guilbert's kidnapping of Rebecca. John is alarmed, but orchestrates a plot to attack Richard and take him prisoner: The Prince has no intention of relinquishing the throne. Isaac travels to Templestowe, the lair of the Knights-Templars. Here, he shows Prior Aymer's letter to Lucas Beaumanoir, the Grand Master of the knights. The letter casts aspersion upon de Bois-Guilbert's honor by asserting that he is keeping a Jewess at Templestowe, but it also heavily hints that Rebecca has somehow bewitched the Templar to make him fall in love with her. Albert Malvoisin, the ruler of the stronghold, furthers this claim, saying that Rebecca's witchcraft, and not de Bois-Guilbert's weakness, is to blame for her presence at Templestowe. For his part, de Bois-Guilbert has found himself increasingly in love with the indomitable Rebecca, who has continued to reject his advances. Malvoisin lectures him sternly on the error of his ways, reminding him that his conduct will be highly detrimental to his career in the order. He asserts that Rebecca must be "made to suffer" like a sorceress; de Bois-Guilbert insists that she will not, but Malvoisin caustically reminds him that he has no authority in the matter. Beaumanoir decrees that Rebecca will be immediately tried as a witch, and Malvoisin--who does not believe that Rebecca is really a sorceress, but who only wishes to save de Bois-Guilbert from disgrace within the order--begins to search for grounds on which to convict and execute her.

