CHAPTER XXI
Alas, how many hours and years have past, Since human forms have round this table sate, Or lamp, or taper, on its surface gleam'd! Methinks, I hear the sound of time long pass'd Still murmuring o'er us, in the lofty void Of these dark arches, like the ling'ring voices Of those who long within their graves have slept.
_Orra, a Tragedy._
While these measures were taking in behalf of Cedric and his companions, the armed men by whom the latter had been seized, hurried their captives along towards the place of security, where they intended to imprison them. But darkness came on fast, and the paths of the wood seemed but imperfectly known to the marauders. They were compelled to make several long halts, and once or twice to return on their road to resume the direction which they wished to pursue. The summer morn had dawned upon them ere they could travel in full assurance that they held the right path. But confidence returned with light, and the cavalcade now moved rapidly forward. Meanwhile, the following dialogue took place between the two leaders of the banditti. ``It is time thou shouldst leave us, Sir Maurice,'' said the Templar to De Bracy, ``in order to prepare the second part of thy mystery. Thou art next, thou knowest, to act the Knight Deliverer.''
``I have thought better of it,'' said De Bracy; ``I
will not leave thee till the prize is fairly deposited
in Front-de-B
``And what has made thee change thy plan, De
Bracy?'' replied the Knight Templar.
``That concerns thee nothing,'' answered his
companion.
``I would hope, however, Sir Knight,'' said the
Templar, ``that this alteration of measures arises
from no suspicion of my honourable meaning, such
as Fitzurse endeavoured to instil into thee?''
``My thoughts are my own,'' answered De Bracy;
``the fiend laughs, they say, when one thief robs
another; and we know, that were he to spit fire
and brimstone instead, it would never prevent a
Templar from following his bent.''
``Or the leader of a Free Company,'' answered
the Templar, ``from dreading at the hands of a
comrade and friend, the injustice he does to all
mankind.''
``This is unprofitable and perilous recrimination,''
answered De Bracy; ``suffice it to say, I
know the morals of the Temple-Order, and I will
not give thee the power of cheating me out of the
fair prey for which I have run such risks.''
``Psha,'' replied the Templar, ``what hast thou
to fear?---Thou knowest the vows of our order.''
``Right well,'' said De Bracy, ``and also how
they are kept. Come, Sir Templar, the laws of
gallantry have a liberal interpretation in Palestine,
and this is a case in which I will trust nothing to
your conscience.''
``Hear the truth, then,'' said the Templar; ``I
care not for your blue-eyed beauty. There is in
that train one who will make me a better mate.''
``What! wouldst thou stoop to the waiting damsel?''
said De Bracy.
``No, Sir Knight,'' said the Templar, haughtily.
``To the waiting-woman will I not stoop. I have a
prize among the captives as lovely as thine own.''
``By the mass, thou meanest the fair Jewess!''
said De Bracy.
``And if I do,'' said Bois-Guilbert, ``who shall
gainsay me?''
``No one that I know,'' said De Bracy, ``unless
it be your vow of celibacy, or a cheek of conscience
for an intrigue with a Jewess.''
``For my vow,'' said the Templar, ``our Grand
Master hath granted me a dispensation. And for
my conscience, a man that has slain three hundred
Saracens, need not reckon up every little failing,
like a village girl at her first confession upon Good
Friday eve.''
``Thou knowest best thine own privileges,'' said
De Bracy. ``Yet, I would have sworn thy thought
had been more on the old usurer's money bags, than
on the black eyes of the daughter.''
``I can admire both,'' answered the Templar;
``besides, the old Jew is but half-prize. I must
share his spoils with Front-de-B
``No,'' replied De Bracy, ``I will remain beside
my prize. What thou sayst is passing true, but
I like not the privileges acquired by the dispensation
of the Grand Master, and the merit acquired
by the slaughter of three hundred Saracens. You
have too good a right to a free pardon, to render
you very scrupulous about peccadilloes.''
While this dialogue was proceeding, Cedric was
endeavouring to wring out of those who guarded
him an avowal of their character and purpose.
``You should be Englishmen,'' said he; ``and yet,
sacred Heaven! you prey upon your countrymen as
if you were very Normans. You should be my
neighbours, and, if so, my friends; for which of my
English neighbours have reason to be otherwise?
I tell ye, yeomen, that even those among ye who
have been branded with outlawry have had from
me protection; for I have pitied their miseries, and
curst the oppression of their tyrannic nobles. What,
then, would you have of me? or in what can this
violence serve ye?---Ye are worse than brute beasts
in your actions, and will you imitate them in their
very dumbness?''
It was in vain that Cedric expostulated with his
guards, who had too many good reasons for their
silence to be induced to break it either by his wrath
or his expostulations. They continued to hurry him
along, travelling at a very rapid rate, until, at the
end of an avenue of huge trees, arose Torquilstone,
now the hoary and ancient castle of Reginald
Front-de-B
Cedric no sooner saw the turrets of Front-de-B
``I did injustice,'' he said, ``to the thieves and
outlaws of these woods, when I supposed such banditti
to belong to their bands; I might as justly
have confounded the foxes of these brakes with the
ravening wolves of France. Tell me, dogs---is it
my life or my wealth that your master aims at? Is
it too much that two Saxons, myself and the noble
Athelstane, should hold land in the country which
was once the patrimony of our race?---Put us then
to death, and complete your tyranny by taking our
lives, as you began with our liberties. If the Saxon
Cedric cannot rescue England, he is willing to die
for her. Tell your tyrannical master, I do only
beseech him to dismiss the Lady Rowena in honour
and safety. She is a woman, and he need not
dread her; and with us will die all who dare fight
in her cause.''
The attendants remained as mute to this address
as to the former, and they now stood before the
gate of the castle. De Bracy winded his horn three
times, and the archers and cross-bow men, who had
manned the wall upon seeing their approach, hastened
to lower the drawbridge, and admit them.
The prisoners were compelled by their guards to
alight, and were conducted to an apartment where
a hasty repast was offered them, of which none but
Athelstane felt any inclination to partake. Neither
had the descendant of the Confessor much time to
do justice to the good cheer placed before them, for
their guards gave him and Cedric to understand
that they were to be imprisoned in a chamber apart
from Rowena. Resistance was vain; and they
were compelled to follow to a large room, which,
rising on clumsy Saxon pillars, resembled those refectories
and chapter-houses which may be still seen
in the most ancient parts of our most ancient monasteries.
The Lady Rowena was next separated from her
train, and conducted, with courtesy, indeed, but
still without consulting her inclination, to a distant
apartment. The same alarming distinction was
conferred on Rebecca, in spite of her father's entreaties,
who offered even money, in this extremity
of distress, that she might be permitted to abide
with him. ``Base unbeliever,'' answered one of his
guards, ``when thou hast seen thy lair, thou wilt
not wish thy daughter to partake it.'' And, without
farther discussion, the old Jew was forcibly dragged
off in a different direction from the other prisoners.
The domestics, after being carefully searched
and disarmed, were confined in another part of
the castle; and Rowena was refused even the comfort
she might have derived from the attendance of
her handmaiden Elgitha.
The apartment in which the Saxon chiefs were
confined, for to them we turn our first attention,
although at present used as a sort of guard-room,
had formerly been the great hall of the castle. It
was now abandoned to meaner purposes, because
the present lord, among other additions to the convenience,
security, and beauty of his baronial residence,
had erected a new and noble hall, whose
vaulted roof was supported by lighter and more
elegant pillars, and fitted up with that higher degree
of ornament, which the Normans had already
introduced into architecture.
Cedric paced the apartment, filled with indignant
reflections on the past and on the present, while the
apathy of his companion served, instead of patience
and philosophy, to defend him against every thing
save the inconvenience of the present moment; and
so little did he feel even this last, that he was only
from time to time roused to a reply by Cedric's
animated and impassioned appeal to him.
``Yes,'' said Cedric, half speaking to himself,
and half addressing himself to Athelstane, ``it was
in this very hall that my father feasted with Torquil
Wolfganger, when he entertained the valiant and
unfortunate Harold, then advancing against the
Norwegians, who had united themselves to the
rebel Tosti. It was in this hall that Harold returned
the magnanimous answer to the ambassador
of his rebel brother. Oft have I heard my father
kindle as he told the tale. The envoy of Tosti
was admitted, when this ample room could scarce
contain the crowd of noble Saxon leaders, who
were quaffing the blood-red wine around their monarch.''
``I hope,'' said Athelstane, somewhat moved by
this part of his friend's discourse, ``they will not
forget to send us some wine and refactions at noon
---we had scarce a breathing-space allowed to break
our fast, and I never have the benefit of my food
when I eat immediately after dismounting from
horseback, though the leeches recommend that
practice.''
Cedric went on with his story without noticing
this interjectional observation of his friend.
``The envoy of Tosti,'' he said, ``moved up the
hall, undismayed by the frowning countenances of
all around him, until he made his obeisance before
the throne of King Harold.
`` `What terms,' he said, `Lord King, hath thy
brother Tosti to hope, if he should lay down his
arms, and crave peace at thy hands?'
`` `A brother's love,' cried the generous Harold,
`and the fair earldom of Northumberland.'
`` `But should Tosti accept these terms,' continued
the envoy, ` what lands shall be assigned to his faithful
ally, Hardrada, King of Norway?'
`` `Seven feet of English ground,' answered Harold,
fiercely, 'or, as Hardrada is said to be a giant,
perhaps we may allow him twelve inches more.'
``The hall rung with acclamations, and cup and
horn was filled to the Norwegian, who should be
speedily in possession of his English territory.''
``I could have pledged him with all my soul,''
said Athelstane, ``for my tongue cleaves to my
palate.''
``The baffled envoy,'' continued Cedric, pursuing
with animation his tale, though it interested not
the listener, ``retreated, to carry to Tosti and his
ally the ominous answer of his injured brother. It
was then that the distant towers of York, and the
bloody streams of the Derwent,* beheld that direful
* Note D. Battle of Stamford.
conflict, in which, after displaying the most undaunted
valour, the King of Norway, and Tosti,
both fell, with ten thousand of their bravest followers.
Who would have thought that upon the proud
day when this battle was won, the very gale which
waved the Saxon banners in triumph, was filling
the Norman sails, and impelling them to the fatal
shores of Sussex?---Who would have thought that
Harold, within a few brief days, would himself possess
no more of his kingdom, than the share which
he allotted in his wrath to the Norwegian invader?
---Who would have thought that you, noble Athelstane---
that you, descended of Harold's blood, and
that I, whose father was not the worst defender of
the Saxon crown, should be prisoners to a vile Norman,
in the very hall in which our ancestors held
such high festival?''
``It is sad enough,'' replied Athelstane; ``but
I trust they will hold us to a moderate ransom---
At any rate it cannot be their purpose to starve us
outright; and yet, although it is high noon, I see
no preparations for serving dinner. Look up at the
window, noble Cedric, and judge by the sunbeams
if it is not on the verge of noon.''
``It may be so,'' answered Cedric; ``but I cannot
look on that stained lattice without its awakening
other reflections than those which concern the
passing moment, or its privations. When that window
was wrought, my noble friend, our hardy fathers
knew not the art of making glass, or of staining
it---The pride of Wolfganger's father brought
an artist from Normandy to adorn his hall with this
new species of emblazonment, that breaks the golden
light of God's blessed day into so many fantastic
hues. The foreigner came here poor, beggarly,
cringing, and subservient, ready to doff his cap to
the meanest native of the household. He returned
pampered and proud, to tell his rapacious countrymen
of the wealth and the simplicity of the Saxon
nobles---a folly, oh, Athelstane, foreboded of old, as
well as foreseen, by those descendants of Hengist
and his hardy tribes, who retained the simplicity
of their manners. We made these strangers our
bosom friends, our confidential servants; we borrowed
their artists and their arts, and despised the
honest simplicity and hardihood with which our
brave ancestors supported themselves, and we became
enervated by Norman arts long ere we fell
under Norman arms. Far better was our homely
diet, eaten in peace and liberty, than the luxurious
dainties, the love of which hath delivered us as
bondsmen to the foreign conqueror!''
``I should,'' replied Athelstane, ``hold very humble
diet a luxury at present; and it astonishes me,
noble Cedric, that you can bear so truly in mind
the memory of past deeds, when it appeareth you
forget the very hour of dinner.''
``It is time lost,'' muttered Cedric apart and impatiently,
``to speak to him of aught else but that
which concerns his appetite! The soul of Hardicanute
hath taken possession of him, and he hath no
pleasure save to fill, to swill, and to call for more.
---Alas!'' said he, looking at Athelstane with compassion,
``that so dull a spirit should be lodged in
so goodly a form! Alas! that such an enterprise
as the regeneration of England should turn on a
hinge so imperfect! Wedded to Rowena, indeed,
her nobler and more generous soul may yet awake
the better nature which is torpid within him. Yet
how should this be, while Rowena, Athelstane, and
I myself, remain the prisoners of this brutal marauder
and have been made so perhaps from a sense
of the dangers which our liberty might bring to the
usurped power of his nation?''
While the Saxon was plunged in these painful
reflections, the door of their prison opened, and gave
entrance to a sewer, holding his white rod of office.
This important person advanced into the chamber
with a grave pace, followed by four attendants,
bearing in a table covered with dishes, the sight
and smell of which seemed to be an instant compensation
to Athelstane for all the inconvenience
he had undergone. The persons who attended on
the feast were masked and cloaked.
``What mummery is this?'' said Cedric; ``think
you that we are ignorant whose prisoners we are,
when we are in the castle of your master? Tell
him,'' he continued, willing to use this opportunity
to open a negotiation for his freedom,---``Tell your
master, Reginald Front-de-B
``And tell Sir Reginald Front-de-B
``I shall deliver to the knight your defiance,''
answered the sewer; ``meanwhile I leave you to
your food.''
The challenge of Athelstane was delivered with
no good grace; for a large mouthful, which required
the exercise of both jaws at once, added to
a natural hesitation, considerably damped the effect
of the bold defiance it contained. Still, however,
his speech was hailed by Cedric as an incontestible
token of reviving spirit in his companion,
whose previous indifference had begun, notwithstanding
his respect for Athelstane's descent, to
wear out his patience. But he now cordially shook
hands with him in token of his approbation, and
was somewhat grieved when Athelstane observed,
``that he would fight a dozen such men as Front-de-B
The captives had not long enjoyed their refreshment,
however, ere their attention was disturbed
even from this most serious occupation by the blast
of a horn winded before the gate. It was repeated
three times, with as much violence as if it had been
blown before an enchanted castle by the destined
knight, at whose summons halls and towers, barbican
and battlement, were to roll off like a morning
vapour. The Saxons started from the table, and
hastened to the window. But their curiosity was
disappointed; for these outlets only looked upon
the court of the castle, and the sound came from beyond
its precincts. The summons, however, seemed
of importance, for a considerable degree of bustle
instantly took place in the castle.
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