Chapter: Knights, with a long retinue of their squires,
     In gaudy liveries march and quaint attires;
     One laced the helm, another held the lance,
     A third the shining buckler did advance.
     The courser paw'd the ground with restless feet,
     And snorting foam'd and champ'd the golden bit.
     The smiths and armourers on palfreys ride,
     Files in their hands, and hammers at their side;
     And nails for loosen'd spears, and thongs for shields provide.
     The yeomen guard the streets in seemly bands;
     And clowns come crowding on, with cudgels in their hands.
     --Palamon and Arcite

The condition of the English nation was at this time sufficiently
miserable. King Richard was absent a prisoner, and in the power of
the perfidious and cruel Duke of Austria. Even the very place of his
captivity was uncertain, and his fate but very imperfectly known to the
generality of his subjects, who were, in the meantime, a prey to every
species of subaltern oppression.

Prince John, in league with Philip of France, Coeur-de-Lion's mortal
enemy, was using every species of influence with the Duke of Austria, to
prolong the captivity of his brother Richard, to whom he stood indebted
for so many favours. In the meantime, he was strengthening his own
faction in the kingdom, of which he proposed to dispute the succession,
in case of the King's death, with the legitimate heir, Arthur Duke of
Brittany, son of Geoffrey Plantagenet, the elder brother of John. This
usurpation, it is well known, he afterwards effected. His own character
being light, profligate, and perfidious, John easily attached to his
person and faction, not only all who had reason to dread the resentment
of Richard for criminal proceedings during his absence, but also the
numerous class of "lawless resolutes," whom the crusades had turned back
on their country, accomplished in the vices of the East, impoverished
in substance, and hardened in character, and who placed their hopes
of harvest in civil commotion. To these causes of public distress and
apprehension, must be added, the multitude of outlaws, who, driven
to despair by the oppression of the feudal nobility, and the severe
exercise of the forest laws, banded together in large gangs, and,
keeping possession of the forests and the wastes, set at defiance the
justice and magistracy of the country. The nobles themselves, each
fortified within his own castle, and playing the petty sovereign over
his own dominions, were the leaders of bands scarce less lawless and
oppressive than those of the avowed depredators. To maintain these
retainers, and to support the extravagance and magnificence which their
pride induced them to affect, the nobility borrowed sums of money from
the Jews at the most usurious interest, which gnawed into their estates
like consuming cankers, scarce to be cured unless when circumstances
gave them an opportunity of getting free, by exercising upon their
creditors some act of unprincipled violence.

Under the various burdens imposed by this unhappy state of affairs,
the people of England suffered deeply for the present, and had yet
more dreadful cause to fear for the future. To augment their misery, a
contagious disorder of a dangerous nature spread through the land; and,
rendered more virulent by the uncleanness, the indifferent food, and
the wretched lodging of the lower classes, swept off many whose fate the
survivors were tempted to envy, as exempting them from the evils which
were to come.

Yet amid these accumulated distresses, the poor as well as the rich, the
vulgar as well as the noble, in the event of a tournament, which was the
grand spectacle of that age, felt as much interested as the half-starved
citizen of Madrid, who has not a real left to buy provisions for his
family, feels in the issue of a bull-feast. Neither duty nor infirmity
could keep youth or age from such exhibitions. The Passage of Arms,
as it was called, which was to take place at Ashby, in the county of
Leicester, as champions of the first renown were to take the field
in the presence of Prince John himself, who was expected to grace the
lists, had attracted universal attention, and an immense confluence of
persons of all ranks hastened upon the appointed morning to the place of
combat.

The scene was singularly romantic. On the verge of a wood, which
approached to within a mile of the town of Ashby, was an extensive
meadow, of the finest and most beautiful green turf, surrounded on one
side by the forest, and fringed on the other by straggling oak-trees,
some of which had grown to an immense size. The ground, as if fashioned
on purpose for the martial display which was intended, sloped gradually
down on all sides to a level bottom, which was enclosed for the lists
with strong palisades, forming a space of a quarter of a mile in length,
and about half as broad. The form of the enclosure was an oblong square,
save that the corners were considerably rounded off, in order to afford
more convenience for the spectators. The openings for the entry of the
combatants were at the northern and southern extremities of the lists,
accessible by strong wooden gates, each wide enough to admit two
horsemen riding abreast. At each of these portals were stationed two
heralds, attended by six trumpets, as many pursuivants, and a strong
body of men-at-arms for maintaining order, and ascertaining the quality
of the knights who proposed to engage in this martial game.

On a platform beyond the southern entrance, formed by a natural
elevation of the ground, were pitched five magnificent pavilions,
adorned with pennons of russet and black, the chosen colours of the five
knights challengers. The cords of the tents were of the same colour.
Before each pavilion was suspended the shield of the knight by whom it
was occupied, and beside it stood his squire, quaintly disguised as a
salvage or silvan man, or in some other fantastic dress, according to
the taste of his master, and the character he was pleased to assume
during the game. [16]

The central pavilion, as the place of honour, had been assigned to Brian
be Bois-Guilbert, whose renown in all games of chivalry, no less than
his connexions with the knights who had undertaken this Passage of
Arms, had occasioned him to be eagerly received into the company of the
challengers, and even adopted as their chief and leader, though he had
so recently joined them. On one side of his tent were pitched those of
Reginald Front-de-Boeuf and Richard de Malvoisin, and on the other was
the pavilion of Hugh de Grantmesnil, a noble baron in the vicinity,
whose ancestor had been Lord High Steward of England in the time of the
Conqueror, and his son William Rufus. Ralph de Vipont, a knight of St
John of Jerusalem, who had some ancient possessions at a place called
Heather, near Ashby-de-la-Zouche, occupied the fifth pavilion. From the
entrance into the lists, a gently sloping passage, ten yards in breadth,
led up to the platform on which the tents were pitched. It was strongly
secured by a palisade on each side, as was the esplanade in front of the
pavilions, and the whole was guarded by men-at-arms.

The northern access to the lists terminated in a similar entrance of
thirty feet in breadth, at the extremity of which was a large enclosed
space for such knights as might be disposed to enter the lists with the
challengers, behind which were placed tents containing refreshments of
every kind for their accommodation, with armourers, tarriers, and other
attendants, in readiness to give their services wherever they might be
necessary.

The exterior of the lists was in part occupied by temporary galleries,
spread with tapestry and carpets, and accommodated with cushions for the
convenience of those ladies and nobles who were expected to attend the
tournament. A narrow space, betwixt these galleries and the lists, gave
accommodation for yeomanry and spectators of a better degree than
the mere vulgar, and might be compared to the pit of a theatre. The
promiscuous multitude arranged themselves upon large banks of turf
prepared for the purpose, which, aided by the natural elevation of the
ground, enabled them to overlook the galleries, and obtain a fair view
into the lists. Besides the accommodation which these stations afforded,
many hundreds had perched themselves on the branches of the trees which
surrounded the meadow; and even the steeple of a country church, at some
distance, was crowded with spectators.

It only remains to notice respecting the general arrangement, that
one gallery in the very centre of the eastern side of the lists, and
consequently exactly opposite to the spot where the shock of the combat
was to take place, was raised higher than the others, more richly
decorated, and graced by a sort of throne and canopy, on which the
royal arms were emblazoned. Squires, pages, and yeomen in rich liveries,
waited around this place of honour, which was designed for Prince John
and his attendants. Opposite to this royal gallery was another, elevated
to the same height, on the western side of the lists; and more gaily, if
less sumptuously decorated, than that destined for the Prince himself.
A train of pages and of young maidens, the most beautiful who could be
selected, gaily dressed in fancy habits of green and pink, surrounded
a throne decorated in the same colours. Among pennons and flags bearing
wounded hearts, burning hearts, bleeding hearts, bows and quivers,
and all the commonplace emblems of the triumphs of Cupid, a blazoned
inscription informed the spectators, that this seat of honour was
designed for "La Royne de las Beaulte et des Amours". But who was to
represent the Queen of Beauty and of Love on the present occasion no one
was prepared to guess.

Meanwhile, spectators of every description thronged forward to occupy
their respective stations, and not without many quarrels concerning
those which they were entitled to hold. Some of these were settled by
the men-at-arms with brief ceremony; the shafts of their battle-axes,
and pummels of their swords, being readily employed as arguments to
convince the more refractory. Others, which involved the rival claims
of more elevated persons, were determined by the heralds, or by the two
marshals of the field, William de Wyvil, and Stephen de Martival, who,
armed at all points, rode up and down the lists to enforce and preserve
good order among the spectators.

Gradually the galleries became filled with knights and nobles, in their
robes of peace, whose long and rich-tinted mantles were contrasted with
the gayer and more splendid habits of the ladies, who, in a greater
proportion than even the men themselves, thronged to witness a sport,
which one would have thought too bloody and dangerous to afford their
sex much pleasure. The lower and interior space was soon filled by
substantial yeomen and burghers, and such of the lesser gentry, as, from
modesty, poverty, or dubious title, durst not assume any higher place.
It was of course amongst these that the most frequent disputes for
precedence occurred.

"Dog of an unbeliever," said an old man, whose threadbare tunic bore
witness to his poverty, as his sword, and dagger, and golden chain
intimated his pretensions to rank,--"whelp of a she-wolf! darest
thou press upon a Christian, and a Norman gentleman of the blood of
Montdidier?"

This rough expostulation was addressed to no other than our acquaintance
Isaac, who, richly and even magnificently dressed in a gaberdine
ornamented with lace and lined with fur, was endeavouring to make place
in the foremost row beneath the gallery for his daughter, the beautiful
Rebecca, who had joined him at Ashby, and who was now hanging on her
father's arm, not a little terrified by the popular displeasure which
seemed generally excited by her parent's presumption. But Isaac, though
we have seen him sufficiently timid on other occasions, knew well that
at present he had nothing to fear. It was not in places of general
resort, or where their equals were assembled, that any avaricious or
malevolent noble durst offer him injury. At such meetings the Jews
were under the protection of the general law; and if that proved a
weak assurance, it usually happened that there were among the persons
assembled some barons, who, for their own interested motives, were ready
to act as their protectors. On the present occasion, Isaac felt more
than usually confident, being aware that Prince John was even then in
the very act of negotiating a large loan from the Jews of York, to
be secured upon certain jewels and lands. Isaac's own share in this
transaction was considerable, and he well knew that the Prince's eager
desire to bring it to a conclusion would ensure him his protection in
the dilemma in which he stood.

Emboldened by these considerations, the Jew pursued his point, and
jostled the Norman Christian, without respect either to his descent,
quality, or religion. The complaints of the old man, however, excited
the indignation of the bystanders. One of these, a stout well-set
yeoman, arrayed in Lincoln green, having twelve arrows stuck in his
belt, with a baldric and badge of silver, and a bow of six feet length
in his hand, turned short round, and while his countenance, which his
constant exposure to weather had rendered brown as a hazel nut, grew
darker with anger, he advised the Jew to remember that all the wealth
he had acquired by sucking the blood of his miserable victims had but
swelled him like a bloated spider, which might be overlooked while he
kept in a corner, but would be crushed if it ventured into the light.
This intimation, delivered in Norman-English with a firm voice and
a stern aspect, made the Jew shrink back; and he would have probably
withdrawn himself altogether from a vicinity so dangerous, had not the
attention of every one been called to the sudden entrance of Prince
John, who at that moment entered the lists, attended by a numerous and
gay train, consisting partly of laymen, partly of churchmen, as light in
their dress, and as gay in their demeanour, as their companions. Among
the latter was the Prior of Jorvaulx, in the most gallant trim which a
dignitary of the church could venture to exhibit. Fur and gold were not
spared in his garments; and the points of his boots, out-heroding
the preposterous fashion of the time, turned up so very far, as to
be attached, not to his knees merely, but to his very girdle, and
effectually prevented him from putting his foot into the stirrup. This,
however, was a slight inconvenience to the gallant Abbot, who,
perhaps, even rejoicing in the opportunity to display his accomplished
horsemanship before so many spectators, especially of the fair sex,
dispensed with the use of these supports to a timid rider. The rest
of Prince John's retinue consisted of the favourite leaders of his
mercenary troops, some marauding barons and profligate attendants upon
the court, with several Knights Templars and Knights of St John.

It may be here remarked, that the knights of these two orders were
accounted hostile to King Richard, having adopted the side of Philip
of France in the long train of disputes which took place in Palestine
betwixt that monarch and the lion-hearted King of England. It was the
well-known consequence of this discord that Richard's repeated victories
had been rendered fruitless, his romantic attempts to besiege Jerusalem
disappointed, and the fruit of all the glory which he had acquired had
dwindled into an uncertain truce with the Sultan Saladin. With the same
policy which had dictated the conduct of their brethren in the Holy
Land, the Templars and Hospitallers in England and Normandy attached
themselves to the faction of Prince John, having little reason to desire
the return of Richard to England, or the succession of Arthur, his
legitimate heir. For the opposite reason, Prince John hated and
contemned the few Saxon families of consequence which subsisted in
England, and omitted no opportunity of mortifying and affronting them;
being conscious that his person and pretensions were disliked by them,
as well as by the greater part of the English commons, who feared
farther innovation upon their rights and liberties, from a sovereign of
John's licentious and tyrannical disposition.

Attended by this gallant equipage, himself well mounted, and splendidly
dressed in crimson and in gold, bearing upon his hand a falcon, and
having his head covered by a rich fur bonnet, adorned with a circle of
precious stones, from which his long curled hair escaped and overspread
his shoulders, Prince John, upon a grey and high-mettled palfrey,
caracoled within the lists at the head of his jovial party, laughing
loud with his train, and eyeing with all the boldness of royal criticism
the beauties who adorned the lofty galleries.

Those who remarked in the physiognomy of the Prince a dissolute
audacity, mingled with extreme haughtiness and indifference to the
feelings of others could not yet deny to his countenance that sort of
comeliness which belongs to an open set of features, well formed by
nature, modelled by art to the usual rules of courtesy, yet so far
frank and honest, that they seemed as if they disclaimed to conceal the
natural workings of the soul. Such an expression is often mistaken for
manly frankness, when in truth it arises from the reckless indifference
of a libertine disposition, conscious of superiority of birth, of
wealth, or of some other adventitious advantage, totally unconnected
with personal merit. To those who did not think so deeply, and they were
the greater number by a hundred to one, the splendour of Prince John's
"rheno", (i.e. fur tippet,) the richness of his cloak, lined with the
most costly sables, his maroquin boots and golden spurs, together with
the grace with which he managed his palfrey, were sufficient to merit
clamorous applause.

In his joyous caracole round the lists, the attention of the Prince
was called by the commotion, not yet subsided, which had attended the
ambitious movement of Isaac towards the higher places of the assembly.
The quick eye of Prince John instantly recognised the Jew, but was
much more agreeably attracted by the beautiful daughter of Zion, who,
terrified by the tumult, clung close to the arm of her aged father.

The figure of Rebecca might indeed have compared with the proudest
beauties of England, even though it had been judged by as shrewd a
connoisseur as Prince John. Her form was exquisitely symmetrical,
and was shown to advantage by a sort of Eastern dress, which she wore
according to the fashion of the females of her nation. Her turban
of yellow silk suited well with the darkness of her complexion. The
brilliancy of her eyes, the superb arch of her eyebrows, her well-formed
aquiline nose, her teeth as white as pearl, and the profusion of her
sable tresses, which, each arranged in its own little spiral of twisted
curls, fell down upon as much of a lovely neck and bosom as a simarre
of the richest Persian silk, exhibiting flowers in their natural colours
embossed upon a purple ground, permitted to be visible--all these
constituted a combination of loveliness, which yielded not to the most
beautiful of the maidens who surrounded her. It is true, that of the
golden and pearl-studded clasps, which closed her vest from the throat
to the waist, the three uppermost were left unfastened on account of
the heat, which somewhat enlarged the prospect to which we allude. A
diamond necklace, with pendants of inestimable value, were by this means
also made more conspicuous. The feather of an ostrich, fastened in her
turban by an agraffe set with brilliants, was another distinction of
the beautiful Jewess, scoffed and sneered at by the proud dames who sat
above her, but secretly envied by those who affected to deride them.

"By the bald scalp of Abraham," said Prince John, "yonder Jewess must be
the very model of that perfection, whose charms drove frantic the wisest
king that ever lived! What sayest thou, Prior Aymer?--By the Temple
of that wise king, which our wiser brother Richard proved unable to
recover, she is the very Bride of the Canticles!"

"The Rose of Sharon and the Lily of the Valley,"--answered the Prior, in
a sort of snuffling tone; "but your Grace must remember she is still but
a Jewess."

"Ay!" added Prince John, without heeding him, "and there is my Mammon
of unrighteousness too--the Marquis of Marks, the Baron of Byzants,
contesting for place with penniless dogs, whose threadbare cloaks have
not a single cross in their pouches to keep the devil from dancing
there. By the body of St Mark, my prince of supplies, with his lovely
Jewess, shall have a place in the gallery!--What is she, Isaac? Thy wife
or thy daughter, that Eastern houri that thou lockest under thy arm as
thou wouldst thy treasure-casket?"

"My daughter Rebecca, so please your Grace," answered Isaac, with a
low congee, nothing embarrassed by the Prince's salutation, in which,
however, there was at least as much mockery as courtesy.

"The wiser man thou," said John, with a peal of laughter, in which his
gay followers obsequiously joined. "But, daughter or wife, she should
be preferred according to her beauty and thy merits.--Who sits above
there?" he continued, bending his eye on the gallery. "Saxon churls,
lolling at their lazy length!--out upon them!--let them sit close, and
make room for my prince of usurers and his lovely daughter. I'll make
the hinds know they must share the high places of the synagogue with
those whom the synagogue properly belongs to."

Those who occupied the gallery to whom this injurious and unpolite
speech was addressed, were the family of Cedric the Saxon, with that of
his ally and kinsman, Athelstane of Coningsburgh, a personage, who, on
account of his descent from the last Saxon monarchs of England, was held
in the highest respect by all the Saxon natives of the north of England.
But with the blood of this ancient royal race, many of their infirmities
had descended to Athelstane. He was comely in countenance, bulky
and strong in person, and in the flower of his age--yet inanimate in
expression, dull-eyed, heavy-browed, inactive and sluggish in all his
motions, and so slow in resolution, that the soubriquet of one of his
ancestors was conferred upon him, and he was very generally called
Athelstane the Unready. His friends, and he had many, who, as well as
Cedric, were passionately attached to him, contended that this sluggish
temper arose not from want of courage, but from mere want of decision;
others alleged that his hereditary vice of drunkenness had obscured his
faculties, never of a very acute order, and that the passive courage
and meek good-nature which remained behind, were merely the dregs of a
character that might have been deserving of praise, but of which all the
valuable parts had flown off in the progress of a long course of brutal
debauchery.

It was to this person, such as we have described him, that the Prince
addressed his imperious command to make place for Isaac and Rebecca.
Athelstane, utterly confounded at an order which the manners and
feelings of the times rendered so injuriously insulting, unwilling to
obey, yet undetermined how to resist, opposed only the "vis inertiae" to
the will of John; and, without stirring or making any motion whatever of
obedience, opened his large grey eyes, and stared at the Prince with
an astonishment which had in it something extremely ludicrous. But the
impatient John regarded it in no such light.

"The Saxon porker," he said, "is either asleep or minds me not--Prick
him with your lance, De Bracy," speaking to a knight who rode near him,
the leader of a band of Free Companions, or Condottieri; that is, of
mercenaries belonging to no particular nation, but attached for the time
to any prince by whom they were paid. There was a murmur even among the
attendants of Prince John; but De Bracy, whose profession freed him from
all scruples, extended his long lance over the space which separated
the gallery from the lists, and would have executed the commands of
the Prince before Athelstane the Unready had recovered presence of mind
sufficient even to draw back his person from the weapon, had not Cedric,
as prompt as his companion was tardy, unsheathed, with the speed of
lightning, the short sword which he wore, and at a single blow severed
the point of the lance from the handle. The blood rushed into the
countenance of Prince John. He swore one of his deepest oaths, and
was about to utter some threat corresponding in violence, when he was
diverted from his purpose, partly by his own attendants, who gathered
around him conjuring him to be patient, partly by a general exclamation
of the crowd, uttered in loud applause of the spirited conduct of
Cedric. The Prince rolled his eyes in indignation, as if to collect some
safe and easy victim; and chancing to encounter the firm glance of the
same archer whom we have already noticed, and who seemed to persist
in his gesture of applause, in spite of the frowning aspect which the
Prince bent upon him, he demanded his reason for clamouring thus.

"I always add my hollo," said the yeoman, "when I see a good shot, or a
gallant blow."

"Sayst thou?" answered the Prince; "then thou canst hit the white
thyself, I'll warrant."

"A woodsman's mark, and at woodsman's distance, I can hit," answered the
yeoman.

"And Wat Tyrrel's mark, at a hundred yards," said a voice from behind,
but by whom uttered could not be discerned.

This allusion to the fate of William Rufus, his Relative, at once
incensed and alarmed Prince John. He satisfied himself, however, with
commanding the men-at-arms, who surrounded the lists, to keep an eye on
the braggart, pointing to the yeoman.

"By St Grizzel," he added, "we will try his own skill, who is so ready
to give his voice to the feats of others!"

"I shall not fly the trial," said the yeoman, with the composure which
marked his whole deportment.

"Meanwhile, stand up, ye Saxon churls," said the fiery Prince; "for, by
the light of Heaven, since I have said it, the Jew shall have his seat
amongst ye!"

"By no means, an it please your Grace!--it is not fit for such as we
to sit with the rulers of the land," said the Jew; whose ambition for
precedence though it had led him to dispute Place with the extenuated
and impoverished descendant of the line of Montdidier, by no means
stimulated him to an intrusion upon the privileges of the wealthy
Saxons.

"Up, infidel dog when I command you," said Prince John, "or I will have
thy swarthy hide stript off, and tanned for horse-furniture."

Thus urged, the Jew began to ascend the steep and narrow steps which led
up to the gallery.

"Let me see," said the Prince, "who dare stop him," fixing his eye on
Cedric, whose attitude intimated his intention to hurl the Jew down
headlong.

The catastrophe was prevented by the clown Wamba, who, springing
betwixt his master and Isaac, and exclaiming, in answer to the Prince's
defiance, "Marry, that will I!" opposed to the beard of the Jew a shield
of brawn, which he plucked from beneath his cloak, and with which,
doubtless, he had furnished himself, lest the tournament should have
proved longer than his appetite could endure abstinence. Finding the
abomination of his tribe opposed to his very nose, while the Jester,
at the same time, flourished his wooden sword above his head, the Jew
recoiled, missed his footing, and rolled down the steps,--an excellent
jest to the spectators, who set up a loud laughter, in which Prince John
and his attendants heartily joined.

"Deal me the prize, cousin Prince," said Wamba; "I have vanquished my
foe in fair fight with sword and shield," he added, brandishing the
brawn in one hand and the wooden sword in the other.

"Who, and what art thou, noble champion?" said Prince John, still
laughing.

"A fool by right of descent," answered the Jester; "I am Wamba, the
son of Witless, who was the son of Weatherbrain, who was the son of an
Alderman."

"Make room for the Jew in front of the lower ring," said Prince John,
not unwilling perhaps to, seize an apology to desist from his original
purpose; "to place the vanquished beside the victor were false
heraldry."

"Knave upon fool were worse," answered the Jester, "and Jew upon bacon
worst of all."

"Gramercy! good fellow," cried Prince John, "thou pleasest me--Here,
Isaac, lend me a handful of byzants."

As the Jew, stunned by the request, afraid to refuse, and unwilling
to comply, fumbled in the furred bag which hung by his girdle, and
was perhaps endeavouring to ascertain how few coins might pass for a
handful, the Prince stooped from his jennet and settled Isaac's doubts
by snatching the pouch itself from his side; and flinging to Wamba a
couple of the gold pieces which it contained, he pursued his career
round the lists, leaving the Jew to the derision of those around him,
and himself receiving as much applause from the spectators as if he had
done some honest and honourable action.




     At this the challenger with fierce defy
     His trumpet sounds; the challenged makes reply:
     With clangour rings the field, resounds the vaulted sky.
     Their visors closed, their lances in the rest,
     Or at the helmet pointed or the crest,
     They vanish from the barrier, speed the race,
     And spurring see decrease the middle space.
     Palamon and Arcite

In the midst of Prince John's cavalcade, he suddenly stopt, and
appealing to the Prior of Jorvaulx, declared the principal business of
the day had been forgotten.

"By my halidom," said he, "we have forgotten, Sir Prior, to name the
fair Sovereign of Love and of Beauty, by whose white hand the palm is to
be distributed. For my part, I am liberal in my ideas, and I care not if
I give my vote for the black-eyed Rebecca."

"Holy Virgin," answered the Prior, turning up his eyes in horror, "a
Jewess!--We should deserve to be stoned out of the lists; and I am not
yet old enough to be a martyr. Besides, I swear by my patron saint, that
she is far inferior to the lovely Saxon, Rowena."

"Saxon or Jew," answered the Prince, "Saxon or Jew, dog or hog, what
matters it? I say, name Rebecca, were it only to mortify the Saxon
churls."

A murmur arose even among his own immediate attendants.

"This passes a jest, my lord," said De Bracy; "no knight here will lay
lance in rest if such an insult is attempted."

"It is the mere wantonness of insult," said one of the oldest and most
important of Prince John's followers, Waldemar Fitzurse, "and if your
Grace attempt it, cannot but prove ruinous to your projects."

"I entertained you, sir," said John, reining up his palfrey haughtily,
"for my follower, but not for my counsellor."

"Those who follow your Grace in the paths which you tread," said
Waldemar, but speaking in a low voice, "acquire the right of
counsellors; for your interest and safety are not more deeply gaged than
their own."

From the tone in which this was spoken, John saw the necessity of
acquiescence "I did but jest," he said; "and you turn upon me like
so many adders! Name whom you will, in the fiend's name, and please
yourselves."

"Nay, nay," said De Bracy, "let the fair sovereign's throne remain
unoccupied, until the conqueror shall be named, and then let him choose
the lady by whom it shall be filled. It will add another grace to his
triumph, and teach fair ladies to prize the love of valiant knights, who
can exalt them to such distinction."

"If Brian de Bois-Guilbert gain the prize," said the Prior, "I will gage
my rosary that I name the Sovereign of Love and Beauty."

"Bois-Guilbert," answered De Bracy, "is a good lance; but there are
others around these lists, Sir Prior, who will not fear to encounter
him."

"Silence, sirs," said Waldemar, "and let the Prince assume his seat.
The knights and spectators are alike impatient, the time advances, and
highly fit it is that the sports should commence."

Prince John, though not yet a monarch, had in Waldemar Fitzurse all the
inconveniences of a favourite minister, who, in serving his sovereign,
must always do so in his own way. The Prince acquiesced, however,
although his disposition was precisely of that kind which is apt to be
obstinate upon trifles, and, assuming his throne, and being surrounded
by his followers, gave signal to the heralds to proclaim the laws of the
tournament, which were briefly as follows:

First, the five challengers were to undertake all comers.

Secondly, any knight proposing to combat, might, if he pleased, select
a special antagonist from among the challengers, by touching his shield.
If he did so with the reverse of his lance, the trial of skill was made
with what were called the arms of courtesy, that is, with lances at
whose extremity a piece of round flat board was fixed, so that no danger
was encountered, save from the shock of the horses and riders. But if
the shield was touched with the sharp end of the lance, the combat was
understood to be at "outrance", that is, the knights were to fight with
sharp weapons, as in actual battle.

Thirdly, when the knights present had accomplished their vow, by each of
them breaking five lances, the Prince was to declare the victor in the
first day's tourney, who should receive as prize a warhorse of exquisite
beauty and matchless strength; and in addition to this reward of valour,
it was now declared, he should have the peculiar honour of naming the
Queen of Love and Beauty, by whom the prize should be given on the
ensuing day.

Fourthly, it was announced, that, on the second day, there should be a
general tournament, in which all the knights present, who were desirous
to win praise, might take part; and being divided into two bands of
equal numbers, might fight it out manfully, until the signal was given
by Prince John to cease the combat. The elected Queen of Love and Beauty
was then to crown the knight whom the Prince should adjudge to have
borne himself best in this second day, with a coronet composed of thin
gold plate, cut into the shape of a laurel crown. On this second day
the knightly games ceased. But on that which was to follow, feats of
archery, of bull-baiting, and other popular amusements, were to be
practised, for the more immediate amusement of the populace. In this
manner did Prince John endeavour to lay the foundation of a popularity,
which he was perpetually throwing down by some inconsiderate act of
wanton aggression upon the feelings and prejudices of the people.

The lists now presented a most splendid spectacle. The sloping galleries
were crowded with all that was noble, great, wealthy, and beautiful
in the northern and midland parts of England; and the contrast of the
various dresses of these dignified spectators, rendered the view as
gay as it was rich, while the interior and lower space, filled with the
substantial burgesses and yeomen of merry England, formed, in their more
plain attire, a dark fringe, or border, around this circle of brilliant
embroidery, relieving, and, at the same time, setting off its splendour.

The heralds finished their proclamation with their usual cry of
"Largesse, largesse, gallant knights!" and gold and silver pieces were
showered on them from the galleries, it being a high point of chivalry
to exhibit liberality towards those whom the age accounted at once the
secretaries and the historians of honour. The bounty of the spectators
was acknowledged by the customary shouts of "Love of Ladies--Death of
Champions--Honour to the Generous--Glory to the Brave!" To which the
more humble spectators added their acclamations, and a numerous band of
trumpeters the flourish of their martial instruments. When these sounds
had ceased, the heralds withdrew from the lists in gay and glittering
procession, and none remained within them save the marshals of the
field, who, armed cap-a-pie, sat on horseback, motionless as statues,
at the opposite ends of the lists. Meantime, the enclosed space at the
northern extremity of the lists, large as it was, was now completely
crowded with knights desirous to prove their skill against the
challengers, and, when viewed from the galleries, presented the
appearance of a sea of waving plumage, intermixed with glistening
helmets, and tall lances, to the extremities of which were, in many
cases, attached small pennons of about a span's breadth, which,
fluttering in the air as the breeze caught them, joined with the
restless motion of the feathers to add liveliness to the scene.

At length the barriers were opened, and five knights, chosen by lot,
advanced slowly into the area; a single champion riding in front, and
the other four following in pairs. All were splendidly armed, and my
Saxon authority (in the Wardour Manuscript) records at great length
their devices, their colours, and the embroidery of their horse
trappings. It is unnecessary to be particular on these subjects. To
borrow lines from a contemporary poet, who has written but too little:

     "The knights are dust,
     And their good swords are rust,
     Their souls are with the saints, we trust." [17]

Their escutcheons have long mouldered from the walls of their castles.
Their castles themselves are but green mounds and shattered ruins--the
place that once knew them, knows them no more--nay, many a race since
theirs has died out and been forgotten in the very land which they
occupied, with all the authority of feudal proprietors and feudal
lords. What, then, would it avail the reader to know their names, or the
evanescent symbols of their martial rank!

Now, however, no whit anticipating the oblivion which awaited their
names and feats, the champions advanced through the lists, restraining
their fiery steeds, and compelling them to move slowly, while, at the
same time, they exhibited their paces, together with the grace and
dexterity of the riders. As the procession entered the lists, the
sound of a wild Barbaric music was heard from behind the tents of the
challengers, where the performers were concealed. It was of Eastern
origin, having been brought from the Holy Land; and the mixture of the
cymbals and bells seemed to bid welcome at once, and defiance, to the
knights as they advanced. With the eyes of an immense concourse of
spectators fixed upon them, the five knights advanced up the platform
upon which the tents of the challengers stood, and there separating
themselves, each touched slightly, and with the reverse of his lance,
the shield of the antagonist to whom he wished to oppose himself. The
lower orders of spectators in general--nay, many of the higher class,
and it is even said several of the ladies, were rather disappointed
at the champions choosing the arms of courtesy. For the same sort
of persons, who, in the present day, applaud most highly the deepest
tragedies, were then interested in a tournament exactly in proportion to
the danger incurred by the champions engaged.

Having intimated their more pacific purpose, the champions retreated
to the extremity of the lists, where they remained drawn up in a line;
while the challengers, sallying each from his pavilion, mounted their
horses, and, headed by Brian de Bois-Guilbert, descended from the
platform, and opposed themselves individually to the knights who had
touched their respective shields.

At the flourish of clarions and trumpets, they started out against
each other at full gallop; and such was the superior dexterity or
good fortune of the challengers, that those opposed to Bois-Guilbert,
Malvoisin, and Front-de-Boeuf, rolled on the ground. The antagonist of
Grantmesnil, instead of bearing his lance-point fair against the crest
or the shield of his enemy, swerved so much from the direct line as
to break the weapon athwart the person of his opponent--a circumstance
which was accounted more disgraceful than that of being actually
unhorsed; because the latter might happen from accident, whereas the
former evinced awkwardness and want of management of the weapon and of
the horse. The fifth knight alone maintained the honour of his party,
and parted fairly with the Knight of St John, both splintering their
lances without advantage on either side.

The shouts of the multitude, together with the acclamations of the
heralds, and the clangour of the trumpets, announced the triumph of the
victors and the defeat of the vanquished. The former retreated to
their pavilions, and the latter, gathering themselves up as they could,
withdrew from the lists in disgrace and dejection, to agree with their
victors concerning the redemption of their arms and their horses, which,
according to the laws of the tournament, they had forfeited. The fifth
of their number alone tarried in the lists long enough to be greeted
by the applauses of the spectators, amongst whom he retreated, to the
aggravation, doubtless, of his companions' mortification.

A second and a third party of knights took the field; and although
they had various success, yet, upon the whole, the advantage decidedly
remained with the challengers, not one of whom lost his seat or
swerved from his charge--misfortunes which befell one or two of their
antagonists in each encounter. The spirits, therefore, of those opposed
to them, seemed to be considerably damped by their continued success.
Three knights only appeared on the fourth entry, who, avoiding the
shields of Bois-Guilbert and Front-de-Boeuf, contented themselves
with touching those of the three other knights, who had not altogether
manifested the same strength and dexterity. This politic selection
did not alter the fortune of the field, the challengers were still
successful: one of their antagonists was overthrown, and both the others
failed in the "attaint", [18] that is, in striking the helmet and shield
of their antagonist firmly and strongly, with the lance held in a direct
line, so that the weapon might break unless the champion was overthrown.

After this fourth encounter, there was a considerable pause; nor did
it appear that any one was very desirous of renewing the contest.
The spectators murmured among themselves; for, among the challengers,
Malvoisin and Front-de-Boeuf were unpopular from their characters,
and the others, except Grantmesnil, were disliked as strangers and
foreigners.

But none shared the general feeling of dissatisfaction so keenly as
Cedric the Saxon, who saw, in each advantage gained by the Norman
challengers, a repeated triumph over the honour of England. His own
education had taught him no skill in the games of chivalry, although,
with the arms of his Saxon ancestors, he had manifested himself, on
many occasions, a brave and determined soldier. He looked anxiously
to Athelstane, who had learned the accomplishments of the age, as if
desiring that he should make some personal effort to recover the victory
which was passing into the hands of the Templar and his associates.
But, though both stout of heart, and strong of person, Athelstane had a
disposition too inert and unambitious to make the exertions which Cedric
seemed to expect from him.

"The day is against England, my lord," said Cedric, in a marked tone;
"are you not tempted to take the lance?"

"I shall tilt to-morrow" answered Athelstane, "in the 'melee'; it is not
worth while for me to arm myself to-day."

Two things displeased Cedric in this speech. It contained the Norman
word "melee", (to express the general conflict,) and it evinced
some indifference to the honour of the country; but it was spoken by
Athelstane, whom he held in such profound respect, that he would not
trust himself to canvass his motives or his foibles. Moreover, he had
no time to make any remark, for Wamba thrust in his word, observing, "It
was better, though scarce easier, to be the best man among a hundred,
than the best man of two."

Athelstane took the observation as a serious compliment; but Cedric,
who better understood the Jester's meaning, darted at him a severe and
menacing look; and lucky it was for Wamba, perhaps, that the time and
place prevented his receiving, notwithstanding his place and service,
more sensible marks of his master's resentment.

The pause in the tournament was still uninterrupted, excepting by
the voices of the heralds exclaiming--"Love of ladies, splintering of
lances! stand forth gallant knights, fair eyes look upon your deeds!"

The music also of the challengers breathed from time to time wild bursts
expressive of triumph or defiance, while the clowns grudged a holiday
which seemed to pass away in inactivity; and old knights and nobles
lamented in whispers the decay of martial spirit, spoke of the triumphs
of their younger days, but agreed that the land did not now supply dames
of such transcendent beauty as had animated the jousts of former times.
Prince John began to talk to his attendants about making ready
the banquet, and the necessity of adjudging the prize to Brian de
Bois-Guilbert, who had, with a single spear, overthrown two knights, and
foiled a third.

At length, as the Saracenic music of the challengers concluded one of
those long and high flourishes with which they had broken the silence of
the lists, it was answered by a solitary trumpet, which breathed a note
of defiance from the northern extremity. All eyes were turned to see
the new champion which these sounds announced, and no sooner were the
barriers opened than he paced into the lists. As far as could be judged
of a man sheathed in armour, the new adventurer did not greatly exceed
the middle size, and seemed to be rather slender than strongly made.
His suit of armour was formed of steel, richly inlaid with gold, and the
device on his shield was a young oak-tree pulled up by the roots, with
the Spanish word Desdichado, signifying Disinherited. He was mounted on
a gallant black horse, and as he passed through the lists he gracefully
saluted the Prince and the ladies by lowering his lance. The dexterity
with which he managed his steed, and something of youthful grace which
he displayed in his manner, won him the favour of the multitude, which
some of the lower classes expressed by calling out, "Touch Ralph de
Vipont's shield--touch the Hospitallers shield; he has the least sure
seat, he is your cheapest bargain."

The champion, moving onward amid these well-meant hints, ascended the
platform by the sloping alley which led to it from the lists, and,
to the astonishment of all present, riding straight up to the central
pavilion, struck with the sharp end of his spear the shield of Brian
de Bois-Guilbert until it rung again. All stood astonished at his
presumption, but none more than the redoubted Knight whom he had thus
defied to mortal combat, and who, little expecting so rude a challenge,
was standing carelessly at the door of the pavilion.

"Have you confessed yourself, brother," said the Templar, "and have you
heard mass this morning, that you peril your life so frankly?"

"I am fitter to meet death than thou art" answered the Disinherited
Knight; for by this name the stranger had recorded himself in the books
of the tourney.

"Then take your place in the lists," said Bois-Guilbert, "and look your
last upon the sun; for this night thou shalt sleep in paradise."

"Gramercy for thy courtesy," replied the Disinherited Knight, "and to
requite it, I advise thee to take a fresh horse and a new lance, for by
my honour you will need both."

Having expressed himself thus confidently, he reined his horse backward
down the slope which he had ascended, and compelled him in the same
manner to move backward through the lists, till he reached the
northern extremity, where he remained stationary, in expectation of his
antagonist. This feat of horsemanship again attracted the applause of
the multitude.

However incensed at his adversary for the precautions which he
recommended, Brian de Bois-Guilbert did not neglect his advice; for
his honour was too nearly concerned, to permit his neglecting any means
which might ensure victory over his presumptuous opponent. He changed
his horse for a proved and fresh one of great strength and spirit. He
chose a new and a tough spear, lest the wood of the former might have
been strained in the previous encounters he had sustained. Lastly,
he laid aside his shield, which had received some little damage, and
received another from his squires. His first had only borne the general
device of his rider, representing two knights riding upon one horse, an
emblem expressive of the original humility and poverty of the Templars,
qualities which they had since exchanged for the arrogance and wealth
that finally occasioned their suppression. Bois-Guilbert's new shield
bore a raven in full flight, holding in its claws a skull, and bearing
the motto, "Gare le Corbeau".

When the two champions stood opposed to each other at the two
extremities of the lists, the public expectation was strained to the
highest pitch. Few augured the possibility that the encounter could
terminate well for the Disinherited Knight, yet his courage and
gallantry secured the general good wishes of the spectators.

The trumpets had no sooner given the signal, than the champions vanished
from their posts with the speed of lightning, and closed in the centre
of the lists with the shock of a thunderbolt. The lances burst into
shivers up to the very grasp, and it seemed at the moment that both
knights had fallen, for the shock had made each horse recoil backwards
upon its haunches. The address of the riders recovered their steeds
by use of the bridle and spur; and having glared on each other for an
instant with eyes which seemed to flash fire through the bars of their
visors, each made a demi-volte, and, retiring to the extremity of the
lists, received a fresh lance from the attendants.

A loud shout from the spectators, waving of scarfs and handkerchiefs,
and general acclamations, attested the interest taken by the spectators
in this encounter; the most equal, as well as the best performed, which
had graced the day. But no sooner had the knights resumed their station,
than the clamour of applause was hushed into a silence, so deep and so
dead, that it seemed the multitude were afraid even to breathe.

A few minutes pause having been allowed, that the combatants and their
horses might recover breath, Prince John with his truncheon signed to
the trumpets to sound the onset. The champions a second time sprung from
their stations, and closed in the centre of the lists, with the same
speed, the same dexterity, the same violence, but not the same equal
fortune as before.

In this second encounter, the Templar aimed at the centre of his
antagonist's shield, and struck it so fair and forcibly, that his spear
went to shivers, and the Disinherited Knight reeled in his saddle.
On the other hand, that champion had, in the beginning of his career,
directed the point of his lance towards Bois-Guilbert's shield, but,
changing his aim almost in the moment of encounter, he addressed it
to the helmet, a mark more difficult to hit, but which, if attained,
rendered the shock more irresistible. Fair and true he hit the Norman on
the visor, where his lance's point kept hold of the bars. Yet, even at
this disadvantage, the Templar sustained his high reputation; and had
not the girths of his saddle burst, he might not have been unhorsed. As
it chanced, however, saddle, horse, and man, rolled on the ground under
a cloud of dust.

To extricate himself from the stirrups and fallen steed, was to the
Templar scarce the work of a moment; and, stung with madness, both at
his disgrace and at the acclamations with which it was hailed by the
spectators, he drew his sword and waved it in defiance of his conqueror.
The Disinherited Knight sprung from his steed, and also unsheathed his
sword. The marshals of the field, however, spurred their horses between
them, and reminded them, that the laws of the tournament did not, on the
present occasion, permit this species of encounter.

"We shall meet again, I trust," said the Templar, casting a resentful
glance at his antagonist; "and where there are none to separate us."

"If we do not," said the Disinherited Knight, "the fault shall not be
mine. On foot or horseback, with spear, with axe, or with sword, I am
alike ready to encounter thee."

More and angrier words would have been exchanged, but the marshals,
crossing their lances betwixt them, compelled them to separate. The
Disinherited Knight returned to his first station, and Bois-Guilbert
to his tent, where he remained for the rest of the day in an agony of
despair.

Without alighting from his horse, the conqueror called for a bowl of
wine, and opening the beaver, or lower part of his helmet, announced
that he quaffed it, "To all true English hearts, and to the confusion of
foreign tyrants." He then commanded his trumpet to sound a defiance
to the challengers, and desired a herald to announce to them, that he
should make no election, but was willing to encounter them in the order
in which they pleased to advance against him.

The gigantic Front-de-Boeuf, armed in sable armour, was the first who
took the field. He bore on a white shield a black bull's head, half
defaced by the numerous encounters which he had undergone, and bearing
the arrogant motto, "Cave, Adsum". Over this champion the Disinherited
Knight obtained a slight but decisive advantage. Both Knights broke
their lances fairly, but Front-de-Boeuf, who lost a stirrup in the
encounter, was adjudged to have the disadvantage.

In the stranger's third encounter with Sir Philip Malvoisin, he was
equally successful; striking that baron so forcibly on the casque, that
the laces of the helmet broke, and Malvoisin, only saved from falling by
being unhelmeted, was declared vanquished like his companions.

In his fourth combat with De Grantmesnil, the Disinherited Knight showed
as much courtesy as he had hitherto evinced courage and dexterity. De
Grantmesnil's horse, which was young and violent, reared and plunged
in the course of the career so as to disturb the rider's aim, and the
stranger, declining to take the advantage which this accident afforded
him, raised his lance, and passing his antagonist without touching
him, wheeled his horse and rode back again to his own end of the lists,
offering his antagonist, by a herald, the chance of a second encounter.
This De Grantmesnil declined, avowing himself vanquished as much by the
courtesy as by the address of his opponent.

Ralph de Vipont summed up the list of the stranger's triumphs, being
hurled to the ground with such force, that the blood gushed from his
nose and his mouth, and he was borne senseless from the lists.

The acclamations of thousands applauded the unanimous award of the
Prince and marshals, announcing that day's honours to the Disinherited
Knight.




     ----In the midst was seen
     A lady of a more majestic mien,
     By stature and by beauty mark'd their sovereign Queen.
     * * * * *
     And as in beauty she surpass'd the choir,
     So nobler than the rest was her attire;
     A crown of ruddy gold enclosed her brow,
     Plain without pomp, and rich without a show;
     A branch of Agnus Castus in her hand,
     She bore aloft her symbol of command.
     The Flower and the Leaf

William de Wyvil and Stephen de Martival, the marshals of the field,
were the first to offer their congratulations to the victor, praying
him, at the same time, to suffer his helmet to be unlaced, or, at least,
that he would raise his visor ere they conducted him to receive
the prize of the day's tourney from the hands of Prince John. The
Disinherited Knight, with all knightly courtesy, declined their request,
alleging, that he could not at this time suffer his face to be seen, for
reasons which he had assigned to the heralds when he entered the lists.
The marshals were perfectly satisfied by this reply; for amidst the
frequent and capricious vows by which knights were accustomed to bind
themselves in the days of chivalry, there were none more common than
those by which they engaged to remain incognito for a certain space, or
until some particular adventure was achieved. The marshals, therefore,
pressed no farther into the mystery of the Disinherited Knight, but,
announcing to Prince John the conqueror's desire to remain unknown, they
requested permission to bring him before his Grace, in order that he
might receive the reward of his valour.

John's curiosity was excited by the mystery observed by the stranger;
and, being already displeased with the issue of the tournament, in which
the challengers whom he favoured had been successively defeated by one
knight, he answered haughtily to the marshals, "By the light of Our
Lady's brow, this same knight hath been disinherited as well of his
courtesy as of his lands, since he desires to appear before us without
uncovering his face.--Wot ye, my lords," he said, turning round to his
train, "who this gallant can be, that bears himself thus proudly?"

"I cannot guess," answered De Bracy, "nor did I think there had been
within the four seas that girth Britain a champion that could bear down
these five knights in one day's jousting. By my faith, I shall never
forget the force with which he shocked De Vipont. The poor Hospitaller
was hurled from his saddle like a stone from a sling."

"Boast not of that," said a Knight of St John, who was present;
"your Temple champion had no better luck. I saw your brave lance,
Bois-Guilbert, roll thrice over, grasping his hands full of sand at
every turn."

De Bracy, being attached to the Templars, would have replied, but was
prevented by Prince John. "Silence, sirs!" he said; "what unprofitable
debate have we here?"

"The victor," said De Wyvil, "still waits the pleasure of your
highness."

"It is our pleasure," answered John, "that he do so wait until we learn
whether there is not some one who can at least guess at his name and
quality. Should he remain there till night-fall, he has had work enough
to keep him warm."

"Your Grace," said Waldemar Fitzurse, "will do less than due honour to
the victor, if you compel him to wait till we tell your highness that
which we cannot know; at least I can form no guess--unless he be one of
the good lances who accompanied King Richard to Palestine, and who are
now straggling homeward from the Holy Land."

"It may be the Earl of Salisbury," said De Bracy; "he is about the same
pitch."

"Sir Thomas de Multon, the Knight of Gilsland, rather," said Fitzurse;
"Salisbury is bigger in the bones." A whisper arose among the train,
but by whom first suggested could not be ascertained. "It might be the
King--it might be Richard Coeur-de-Lion himself!"

"Over God's forbode!" said Prince John, involuntarily turning at the
same time as pale as death, and shrinking as if blighted by a flash of
lightning; "Waldemar!--De Bracy! brave knights and gentlemen, remember
your promises, and stand truly by me!"

"Here is no danger impending," said Waldemar Fitzurse; "are you so
little acquainted with the gigantic limbs of your father's son, as
to think they can be held within the circumference of yonder suit
of armour?--De Wyvil and Martival, you will best serve the Prince by
bringing forward the victor to the throne, and ending an error that has
conjured all the blood from his cheeks.--Look at him more closely," he
continued, "your highness will see that he wants three inches of King
Richard's height, and twice as much of his shoulder-breadth. The very
horse he backs, could not have carried the ponderous weight of King
Richard through a single course."

While he was yet speaking, the marshals brought forward the Disinherited
Knight to the foot of a wooden flight of steps, which formed the ascent
from the lists to Prince John's throne. Still discomposed with the idea
that his brother, so much injured, and to whom he was so much indebted,
had suddenly arrived in his native kingdom, even the distinctions
pointed out by Fitzurse did not altogether remove the Prince's
apprehensions; and while, with a short and embarrassed eulogy upon his
valour, he caused to be delivered to him the war-horse assigned as the
prize, he trembled lest from the barred visor of the mailed form before
him, an answer might be returned, in the deep and awful accents of
Richard the Lion-hearted.

But the Disinherited Knight spoke not a word in reply to the compliment
of the Prince, which he only acknowledged with a profound obeisance.

The horse was led into the lists by two grooms richly dressed, the
animal itself being fully accoutred with the richest war-furniture;
which, however, scarcely added to the value of the noble creature in the
eyes of those who were judges. Laying one hand upon the pommel of the
saddle, the Disinherited Knight vaulted at once upon the back of the
steed without making use of the stirrup, and, brandishing aloft his
lance, rode twice around the lists, exhibiting the points and paces of
the horse with the skill of a perfect horseman.

The appearance of vanity, which might otherwise have been attributed to
this display, was removed by the propriety shown in exhibiting to the
best advantage the princely reward with which he had been just honoured,
and the Knight was again greeted by the acclamations of all present.

In the meanwhile, the bustling Prior of Jorvaulx had reminded Prince
John, in a whisper, that the victor must now display his good judgment,
instead of his valour, by selecting from among the beauties who graced
the galleries a lady, who should fill the throne of the Queen of Beauty
and of Love, and deliver the prize of the tourney upon the ensuing day.
The Prince accordingly made a sign with his truncheon, as the Knight
passed him in his second career around the lists. The Knight turned
towards the throne, and, sinking his lance, until the point was within
a foot of the ground, remained motionless, as if expecting John's
commands; while all admired the sudden dexterity with which he instantly
reduced his fiery steed from a state of violent emotion and high
excitation to the stillness of an equestrian statue.

"Sir Disinherited Knight," said Prince John, "since that is the only
title by which we can address you, it is now your duty, as well as
privilege, to name the fair lady, who, as Queen of Honour and of Love,
is to preside over next day's festival. If, as a stranger in our land,
you should require the aid of other judgment to guide your own, we
can only say that Alicia, the daughter of our gallant knight Waldemar
Fitzurse, has at our court been long held the first in beauty as in
place. Nevertheless, it is your undoubted prerogative to confer on whom
you please this crown, by the delivery of which to the lady of
your choice, the election of to-morrow's Queen will be formal and
complete.--Raise your lance."

The Knight obeyed; and Prince John placed upon its point a coronet of
green satin, having around its edge a circlet of gold, the upper edge
of which was relieved by arrow-points and hearts placed interchangeably,
like the strawberry leaves and balls upon a ducal crown.

In the broad hint which he dropped respecting the daughter of Waldemar
Fitzurse, John had more than one motive, each the offspring of a mind,
which was a strange mixture of carelessness and presumption with low
artifice and cunning. He wished to banish from the minds of the chivalry
around him his own indecent and unacceptable jest respecting the Jewess
Rebecca; he was desirous of conciliating Alicia's father Waldemar,
of whom he stood in awe, and who had more than once shown himself
dissatisfied during the course of the day's proceedings. He had also a
wish to establish himself in the good graces of the lady; for John was
at least as licentious in his pleasures as profligate in his ambition.
But besides all these reasons, he was desirous to raise up against
the Disinherited Knight (towards whom he already entertained a strong
dislike) a powerful enemy in the person of Waldemar Fitzurse, who was
likely, he thought, highly to resent the injury done to his daughter, in
case, as was not unlikely, the victor should make another choice.

And so indeed it proved. For the Disinherited Knight passed the gallery
close to that of the Prince, in which the Lady Alicia was seated in the
full pride of triumphant beauty, and, pacing forwards as slowly as he
had hitherto rode swiftly around the lists, he seemed to exercise his
right of examining the numerous fair faces which adorned that splendid
circle.

It was worth while to see the different conduct of the beauties who
underwent this examination, during the time it was proceeding. Some
blushed, some assumed an air of pride and dignity, some looked straight
forward, and essayed to seem utterly unconscious of what was going on,
some drew back in alarm, which was perhaps affected, some endeavoured to
forbear smiling, and there were two or three who laughed outright. There
were also some who dropped their veils over their charms; but, as the
Wardour Manuscript says these were fair ones of ten years standing, it
may be supposed that, having had their full share of such vanities, they
were willing to withdraw their claim, in order to give a fair chance to
the rising beauties of the age.

At length the champion paused beneath the balcony in which the Lady
Rowena was placed, and the expectation of the spectators was excited to
the utmost.

It must be owned, that if an interest displayed in his success could
have bribed the Disinherited Knight, the part of the lists before which
he paused had merited his predilection. Cedric the Saxon, overjoyed at
the discomfiture of the Templar, and still more so at the miscarriage of
his two malevolent neighbours, Front-de-Boeuf and Malvoisin, had, with
his body half stretched over the balcony, accompanied the victor in each
course, not with his eyes only, but with his whole heart and soul. The
Lady Rowena had watched the progress of the day with equal attention,
though without openly betraying the same intense interest. Even the
unmoved Athelstane had shown symptoms of shaking off his apathy, when,
calling for a huge goblet of muscadine, he quaffed it to the health
of the Disinherited Knight. Another group, stationed under the gallery
occupied by the Saxons, had shown no less interest in the fate of the
day.

"Father Abraham!" said Isaac of York, when the first course was run
betwixt the Templar and the Disinherited Knight, "how fiercely that
Gentile rides! Ah, the good horse that was brought all the long way
from Barbary, he takes no more care of him than if he were a wild ass's
colt--and the noble armour, that was worth so many zecchins to Joseph
Pareira, the armourer of Milan, besides seventy in the hundred of
profits, he cares for it as little as if he had found it in the
highways!"

"If he risks his own person and limbs, father," said Rebecca, "in doing
such a dreadful battle, he can scarce be expected to spare his horse and
armour."

"Child!" replied Isaac, somewhat heated, "thou knowest not what thou
speakest--His neck and limbs are his own, but his horse and armour
belong to--Holy Jacob! what was I about to say!--Nevertheless, it is
a good youth--See, Rebecca! see, he is again about to go up to battle
against the Philistine--Pray, child--pray for the safety of the good
youth,--and of the speedy horse, and the rich armour.--God of my
fathers!" he again exclaimed, "he hath conquered, and the uncircumcised
Philistine hath fallen before his lance,--even as Og the King of
Bashan, and Sihon, King of the Amorites, fell before the sword of our
fathers!--Surely he shall take their gold and their silver, and their
war-horses, and their armour of brass and of steel, for a prey and for a
spoil."

The same anxiety did the worthy Jew display during every course that was
run, seldom failing to hazard a hasty calculation concerning the value
of the horse and armour which was forfeited to the champion upon each
new success. There had been therefore no small interest taken in the
success of the Disinherited Knight, by those who occupied the part of
the lists before which he now paused.

Whether from indecision, or some other motive of hesitation, the
champion of the day remained stationary for more than a minute, while
the eyes of the silent audience were riveted upon his motions; and then,
gradually and gracefully sinking the point of his lance, he deposited
the coronet which it supported at the feet of the fair Rowena. The
trumpets instantly sounded, while the heralds proclaimed the Lady Rowena
the Queen of Beauty and of Love for the ensuing day, menacing with
suitable penalties those who should be disobedient to her authority.
They then repeated their cry of Largesse, to which Cedric, in the height
of his joy, replied by an ample donative, and to which Athelstane,
though less promptly, added one equally large.

There was some murmuring among the damsels of Norman descent, who were
as much unused to see the preference given to a Saxon beauty, as the
Norman nobles were to sustain defeat in the games of chivalry which they
themselves had introduced. But these sounds of disaffection were drowned
by the popular shout of "Long live the Lady Rowena, the chosen and
lawful Queen of Love and of Beauty!" To which many in the lower area
added, "Long live the Saxon Princess! long live the race of the immortal
Alfred!"

However unacceptable these sounds might be to Prince John, and to
those around him, he saw himself nevertheless obliged to confirm the
nomination of the victor, and accordingly calling to horse, he left
his throne; and mounting his jennet, accompanied by his train, he again
entered the lists. The Prince paused a moment beneath the gallery of
the Lady Alicia, to whom he paid his compliments, observing, at the same
time, to those around him--"By my halidome, sirs! if the Knight's feats
in arms have shown that he hath limbs and sinews, his choice hath no
less proved that his eyes are none of the clearest."

It was on this occasion, as during his whole life, John's misfortune,
not perfectly to understand the characters of those whom he wished to
conciliate. Waldemar Fitzurse was rather offended than pleased at the
Prince stating thus broadly an opinion, that his daughter had been
slighted.

"I know no right of chivalry," he said, "more precious or inalienable
than that of each free knight to choose his lady-love by his own
judgment. My daughter courts distinction from no one; and in her own
character, and in her own sphere, will never fail to receive the full
proportion of that which is her due."

Prince John replied not; but, spurring his horse, as if to give vent
to his vexation, he made the animal bound forward to the gallery where
Rowena was seated, with the crown still at her feet.

"Assume," he said, "fair lady, the mark of your sovereignty, to which
none vows homage more sincerely than ourself, John of Anjou; and if
it please you to-day, with your noble sire and friends, to grace our
banquet in the Castle of Ashby, we shall learn to know the empress to
whose service we devote to-morrow."

Rowena remained silent, and Cedric answered for her in his native Saxon.

"The Lady Rowena," he said, "possesses not the language in which to
reply to your courtesy, or to sustain her part in your festival. I also,
and the noble Athelstane of Coningsburgh, speak only the language, and
practise only the manners, of our fathers. We therefore decline with
thanks your Highness's courteous invitation to the banquet. To-morrow,
the Lady Rowena will take upon her the state to which she has been
called by the free election of the victor Knight, confirmed by the
acclamations of the people."

So saying, he lifted the coronet, and placed it upon Rowena's head, in
token of her acceptance of the temporary authority assigned to her.

"What says he?" said Prince John, affecting not to understand the
Saxon language, in which, however, he was well skilled. The purport of
Cedric's speech was repeated to him in French. "It is well," he said;
"to-morrow we will ourself conduct this mute sovereign to her seat of
dignity.--You, at least, Sir Knight," he added, turning to the victor,
who had remained near the gallery, "will this day share our banquet?"

The Knight, speaking for the first time, in a low and hurried voice,
excused himself by pleading fatigue, and the necessity of preparing for
to-morrow's encounter.

"It is well," said Prince John, haughtily; "although unused to such
refusals, we will endeavour to digest our banquet as we may, though
ungraced by the most successful in arms, and his elected Queen of
Beauty."

So saying, he prepared to leave the lists with his glittering train, and
his turning his steed for that purpose, was the signal for the breaking
up and dispersion of the spectators.

Yet, with the vindictive memory proper to offended pride, especially
when combined with conscious want of desert, John had hardly proceeded
three paces, ere again, turning around, he fixed an eye of stern
resentment upon the yeoman who had displeased him in the early part of
the day, and issued his commands to the men-at-arms who stood near--"On
your life, suffer not that fellow to escape."

The yeoman stood the angry glance of the Prince with the same unvaried
steadiness which had marked his former deportment, saying, with a smile,
"I have no intention to leave Ashby until the day after to-morrow--I
must see how Staffordshire and Leicestershire can draw their bows--the
forests of Needwood and Charnwood must rear good archers."

"I," said Prince John to his attendants, but not in direct reply,--"I
will see how he can draw his own; and woe betide him unless his skill
should prove some apology for his insolence!"

"It is full time," said De Bracy, "that the 'outrecuidance' [19] of
these peasants should be restrained by some striking example."

Waldemar Fitzurse, who probably thought his patron was not taking the
readiest road to popularity, shrugged up his shoulders and was silent.
Prince John resumed his retreat from the lists, and the dispersion of
the multitude became general.

In various routes, according to the different quarters from which
they came, and in groups of various numbers, the spectators were seen
retiring over the plain. By far the most numerous part streamed towards
the town of Ashby, where many of the distinguished persons were lodged
in the castle, and where others found accommodation in the town itself.
Among these were most of the knights who had already appeared in the
tournament, or who proposed to fight there the ensuing day, and who, as
they rode slowly along, talking over the events of the day, were greeted
with loud shouts by the populace. The same acclamations were bestowed
upon Prince John, although he was indebted for them rather to the
splendour of his appearance and train, than to the popularity of his
character.

A more sincere and more general, as well as a better-merited
acclamation, attended the victor of the day, until, anxious to withdraw
himself from popular notice, he accepted the accommodation of one of
those pavilions pitched at the extremities of the lists, the use of
which was courteously tendered him by the marshals of the field. On his
retiring to his tent, many who had lingered in the lists, to look upon
and form conjectures concerning him, also dispersed.

The signs and sounds of a tumultuous concourse of men lately crowded
together in one place, and agitated by the same passing events, were now
exchanged for the distant hum of voices of different groups retreating
in all directions, and these speedily died away in silence. No other
sounds were heard save the voices of the menials who stripped the
galleries of their cushions and tapestry, in order to put them in safety
for the night, and wrangled among themselves for the half-used bottles
of wine and relics of the refreshment which had been served round to the
spectators.

Beyond the precincts of the lists more than one forge was erected; and
these now began to glimmer through the twilight, announcing the toil of
the armourers, which was to continue through the whole night, in order
to repair or alter the suits of armour to be used again on the morrow.

A strong guard of men-at-arms, renewed at intervals, from two hours to
two hours, surrounded the lists, and kept watch during the night.

 These chapters are largely descriptive and do little to advance the plot of the story. The busy arena where the knights will display their skill is brilliantly described. The challengers, Bois-Guilbert, Front-de-Boeuf, Grantmesnil, Malvoisin, and Ralph de Vipoint, are introduced and described as seasoned Norman knights. Isaacs daughter Rebecca is also introduced. A stranger, beautifully attired in steel and gold armor, arrives at the arena, challenges Bois-Guilbert, and emerges victorious; Bois-Guilbert feels disgraced. The mysterious knight also wins on the second day of the tournament and crowns Rowena as the Queen of Love and Beauty.

