CHAPTER XXXII.
Trust me each state must have its policies: Kingdoms have edicts, cities have their charters; Even the wild outlaw, in his forest-walk, Keeps yet some touch of civil discipline; For not since Adam wore his verdant apron, Hath man with man in social union dwelt, But laws were made to draw that union closer.
_Old Play._
The daylight had dawned upon the glades of the oak forest. The green boughs glittered with all their pearls of dew. The hind led her fawn from the covert of high fern to the more open walks of the greenwood, and no huntsman was there to watch or intercept the stately hart, as he paced at the head of the antler'd herd.
The outlaws were all assembled around the Trysting-tree in the Harthill-walk, where they had spent the night in refreshing themselves after the fatigues of the siege, some with wine, some with slumber, many with hearing and recounting the events of the day, and computing the heaps of plunder which their success had placed at the disposal of their Chief.
The spoils were indeed very large; for, notwithstanding that much was consumed, a great deal of plate, rich armour, and splendid clothing, had been secured by the exertions of the dauntless outlaws, who could be appalled by no danger when such rewards were in view. Yet so strict were the laws of their society, that no one ventured to appropriate any part of the booty, which was brought into one common mass, to be at the disposal of their leader.
The place of rendezvous was an aged oak; not however the same to which Locksley had conducted Gurth and Wamba in the earlier part of the story, but one which was the centre of a silvan amphitheatre, within half a mile of the demolished castle of Torquilstone. Here Locksley assumed his seat---a throne of turf erected under the twisted branches of the huge oak, and the silvan followers were gathered around him. He assigned to the Black Knight a seat at his right hand, and to Cedric a place upon his left.
``Pardon my freedom, noble sirs,'' he said, ``but in these glades I am monarch---they are my kingdom; and these my wild subjects would reck but little of my power, were I, within my own dominions, to yield place to mortal man.---Now, sirs, who hath seen our chaplain? where is our curtal Friar? A mass amongst Christian men best begins a busy morning.''---No one had seen the Clerk of Copmanhurst. ``Over gods forbode!'' said the outlaw chief, ``I trust the jolly priest hath but abidden by the wine-pot a thought too late. Who saw him since the castle was ta'en?''
``I,'' quoth the Miller, ``marked him busy about
the door of a cellar, swearing by each saint in the
calendar he would taste the smack of Front-de-B
``Now, the saints, as many as there be of them,''
said the Captain, ``forefend, lest he has drunk too
deep of the wine-butts, and perished by the fall of
the castle!---Away, Miller!---take with you enow
of men, seek the place where you last saw him---
throw water from the moat on the scorching ruins
---I will have them removed stone by stone ere I
lose my curtal Friar.''
The numbers who hastened to execute this duty,
considering that an interesting division of spoil was
about to take place, showed how much the troop
had at heart the safety of their spiritual father.
``Meanwhile, let us proceed,'' said Locksley;
``for when this bold deed shall be sounded abroad,
the bands of De Bracy, of Malvoisin, and other
allies of Front-de-B
``Good yeoman,'' said Cedric, ``my heart is
oppressed with sadness. The noble Athelstane of
Coningsburgh is no more---the last sprout of the
sainted Confessor! Hopes have perished with him
which can never return!---A sparkle hath been
quenched by his blood, which no human breath can
again rekindle! My people, save the few who are
now with me, do but tarry my presence to transport
his honoured remains to their last mansion.
The Lady Rowena is desirous to return to Rotherwood,
and must be escorted by a sufficient force. I
should, therefore, ere now, have left this place; and
I waited---not to share the booty, for, so help me
God and Saint Withold! as neither I nor any of
mine will touch the value of a liard,---I waited but
to render my thanks to thee and to thy bold yeomen,
for the life and honour ye have saved.''
``Nay, but,'' said the chief Outlaw, ``we did but
half the work at most---take of the spoil what may
reward your own neighbours and followers.''
``I am rich enough to reward them from mine
own wealth,'' answered Cedric.
``And some,'' said Wamba, ``have been wise
enough to reward themselves; they do not march
off empty-handed altogether. We do not all wear
motley.''
``They are welcome,'' said Locksley; ``our laws
bind none but ourselves.''
``But, thou, my poor knave,'' said Cedric, turning
about and embracing his Jester, ``how shall I
reward thee, who feared not to give thy body to
chains and death instead of mine!---All forsook
me, when the poor fool was faithful!''
A tear stood in the eye of the rough Thane as
he spoke---a mark of feeling which even the death
of Athelstane had not extracted; but there was
something in the half-instinctive attachment of his
clown, that waked his nature more keenly than even
grief itself.
``Nay,'' said the Jester, extricating himself from
master's caress, ``if you pay my service with
the water of your eye, the Jester must weep for
company, and then what becomes of his vocation?
---But, uncle, if you would indeed pleasure me, I
pray you to pardon my playfellow Gurth, who stole
a week from your service to bestow it on your son.''
``Pardon him!'' exclaimed Cedric; ``I will both
pardon and reward him.---Kneel down, Gurth.''---
The swineherd was in an instant at his master's
feet---``=Theow= and =Esne=* art thou no longer,''
* Thrall and bondsman.
said Cedric touching him with a wand; ``=Folkfree=
and =Sacless=* art thou in town and from
* A lawful freeman.
town, in the forest as in the field. A hide of land
I give to thee in my steads of Walbrugham, from
me and mine to thee and thine aye and for ever;
and God's malison on his head who this gainsays!''
No longer a serf, but a freeman and a landholder,
Gurth sprung upon his feet, and twice bounded
aloft to almost his own height from the ground.
``A smith and a file,'' he cried, ``to do away the
collar from the neck of a freeman!---Noble master!
doubled is my strength by your gift, and doubly
will I fight for you!---There is a free spirit in my
breast---I am a man changed to myself and all
around.---Ha, Fangs!'' he continued,---for that
faithful cur, seeing his master thus transported, began
to jump upon him, to express his sympathy,---
``knowest thou thy master still?''
``Ay,'' said Wamba, ``Fangs and I still know
thee, Gurth, though we must needs abide by the
collar; it is only thou art likely to forget both us
and thyself.''
``I shall forget myself indeed ere I forget thee,
true comrade,'' said Gurth; ``and were freedom
fit for thee, Wamba, the master would not let thee
want it.''
``Nay,'' said Wamba, ``never think I envy thee,
brother Gurth; the serf sits by the hall-fire when
the freeman must forth to the field of battle---And
what saith Oldhelm of Malmsbury---Better a fool
at a feast than a wise man at a fray.''
The tramp of horses was now heard, and the
Lady Rowena appeared, surrounded by several riders,
and a much stronger party of footmen, who
joyfully shook their pikes and clashed their brown-bills
for joy of her freedom. She herself, richly attired,
and mounted on a dark chestnut palfrey, had
recovered all the dignity of her manner, and only
an unwonted degree of paleness showed the sufferings
she had undergone. Her lovely brow, though
sorrowful, bore on it a cast of reviving hope for
the future, as well as of grateful thankfulness for
the past deliverance---She knew that Ivanhoe was
safe, and she knew that Athelstane was dead. The
former assurance filled her with the most sincere
delight; and if she did not absolutely rejoice at the
latter, she might be pardoned for feeling the full
advantage of being freed from further persecution
on the only subject in which she had ever been contradicted
by her guardian Cedric.
As Rowena bent her steed towards Locksley's
seat, that bold yeoman, with all his followers, rose
to receive her, as if by a general instinct of courtesy.
The blood rose to her cheeks, as, courteously
waving her hand, and bending so low that her
beautiful and loose tresses were for an instant mixed
with the flowing mane of her palfrey, she expressed
in few but apt words her obligations and
her gratitude to Locksley and her other deliverers.
---``God bless you, brave men,'' she concluded,
``God and Our Lady bless you and requite you
for gallantly perilling yourselves in the cause of the
oppressed!---If any of you should hunger, remember
Rowena has food---if you should thirst, she has
many a butt of wine and brown ale---and if the
Normans drive ye from these walks, Rowena has
forests of her own, where her gallant deliverers
may range at full freedom, and never ranger ask
whose arrow hath struck down the deer.''
``Thanks, gentle lady,'' said Locksley; ``thanks
from my company and myself. But, to have saved
you requites itself. We who walk the greenwood
do many a wild deed, and the Lady Rowena's deliverance
may be received as an atonement.''
Again bowing from her palfrey, Rowena turned
to depart; but pausing a moment, while Cedric,
who was to attend her, was also taking his leave,
she found herself unexpectedly close by the prisoner
De Bracy. He stood under a tree in deep
meditation, his arms crossed upon his breast, and
Rowena was in hopes she might pass him unobserved.
He looked up, however, and, when aware
of her presence, a deep flush of shame suffused his
handsome countenance. He stood a moment most
irresolute; then, stepping forward, took her palfrey
by the rein, and bent his knee before her.
``Will the Lady Rowena deign to cast an eye
---on a captive knight---on a dishonoured soldier?''
``Sir Knight,'' answered Rowena, ``in enterprises
such as yours, the real dishonour lies not in
failure, but in success.''
``Conquest, lady, should soften the heart,'' answered
De Bracy; ``let me but know that the
Lady Rowena forgives the violence occasioned by
an ill-fated passion, and she shall soon learn that
De Bracy knows how to serve her in nobler ways.''
``I forgive you, Sir Knight,'' said Rowena, ``as
a Christian.''
``That means,'' said Wamba, ``that she does not
forgive him at all.''
``But I can never forgive the misery and desolation
your madness has occasioned,'' continued
Rowena.
``Unloose your hold on the lady's rein,'' said
Cedric, coming up. ``By the bright sun above us,
but it were shame, I would pin thee to the earth
with my javelin---but be well assured, thou shalt
smart, Maurice de Bracy, for thy share in this foul
deed.''
``He threatens safely who threatens a prisoner,''
said De Bracy; ``but when had a Saxon any touch
of courtesy?''
Then retiring two steps backward, he permitted
the lady to move on.
Cedric, ere they departed, expressed his peculiar
gratitude to the Black Champion, and earnestly
entreated him to accompany him to Rotherwood.
``I know,'' he said, ``that ye errant knights desire
to carry your fortunes on the point of your
lance, and reck not of land or goods; but war is a
changeful mistress, and a home is sometimes desirable
even to the champion whose trade is wandering.
Thou hast earned one in the halls of Rotherwood,
noble knight. Cedric has wealth enough to
repair the injuries of fortune, and all he has is his
deliverer's---Come, therefore, to Rotherwood, not
as a guest, but as a son or brother.''
``Cedric has already made me rich,'' said the
Knight,---``he has taught me the value of Saxon
virtue. To Rotherwood will I come, brave Saxon,
and that speedily; but, as now, pressing matters
of moment detain me from your halls. Peradventure
when I come hither, I will ask such a boon as
will put even thy generosity to the test.''
``It is granted ere spoken out,'' said Cedric,
striking his ready hand into the gauntleted palm
of the Black Knight,---``it is granted already, were
it to affect half my fortune.''
``Gage not thy promise so lightly,'' said the
Knight of the Fetterlock; ``yet well I hope to
gain the boon I shall ask. Meanwhile, adieu.''
``I have but to say,'' added the Saxon, ``that,
during the funeral rites of the noble Athelstane, I
shall be an inhabitant of the halls of his castle of
Coningsburgh---They will be open to all who choose
to partake of the funeral banqueting; and, I speak
in name of the noble Edith, mother of the fallen
prince, they will never be shut against him who
laboured so bravely, though unsuccessfully, to save
Athelstane from Norman chains and Norman steel.''
``Ay, ay,'' said Wamba, who had resumed his
attendance on his master, ``rare feeding there will
be---pity that the noble Athelstane cannot banquet
at his own funeral.---But he,'' continued the Jester,
lifting up his eyes gravely, ``is supping in Paradise,
and doubtless does honour to the cheer.''
``Peace, and move on,'' said Cedric, his anger at
this untimely jest being checked by the recollection
of Wamba's recent services. Rowena waved
a graceful adieu to him of the Fetterlock---the
Saxon bade God speed him, and on they moved
through a wide glade of the forest.
They had scarce departed, ere a sudden procession
moved from under the greenwood branches,
swept slowly round the silvan amphitheatre, and
took the same direction with Rowena and her followers.
The priests of a neighbouring convent, in
expectation of the ample donation, or _soul-scat_,
which Cedric had propined, attended upon the car
in which the body of Athelstane was laid, and sang
hymns as it was sadly and slowly borne on the
shoulders of his vassals to his castle of Coningsburgh,
to be there deposited in the grave of Hengist,
from whom the deceased derived his long descent.
Many of his vassals had assembled at the
news of his death, and followed the bier with all
the external marks, at least, of dejection and sorrow.
Again the outlaws arose, and paid the same
rude and spontaneous homage to death, which they
had so lately rendered to beauty---the slow chant
and mournful step of the priests brought back to
their remembrance such of their comrades as had
fallen in the yesterday's array. But such recollections
dwell not long with those who lead a life of
danger and enterprise, and ere the sound of the
death-hymn had died on the wind, the outlaws
were again busied in the distribution of their spoil.
``Valiant knight,'' said Locksley to the Black
Champion, ``without whose good heart and mighty
arm our enterprise must altogether have failed, will
it please you to take from that mass of spoil whatever
may best serve to pleasure you, and to remind
you of this my Trysting-tree?''
``I accept the offer,'' said the Knight, ``as frankly
as it is given; and I ask permission to dispose
of Sir Maurice de Bracy at my own pleasure.''
``He is thine already,'' said Locksley, ``and well
for him! else the tyrant had graced the highest
bough of this oak, with as many of his Free-Companions
as we could gather, hanging thick as acorns
around him.---But he is thy prisoner, and he is safe,
though he had slain my father.''
``De Bracy,'' said the Knight, ``thou art free---
depart. He whose prisoner thou art scorns to take
mean revenge for what is past. But beware of the
future, lest a worse thing befall thee.---Maurice de
Bracy, I say =beware=!''
De Bracy bowed low and in silence, and was
about to withdraw, when the yeomen burst at once
into a shout of execration and derision. The proud
knight instantly stopped, turned back, folded his
arms, drew up his form to its full height, and exclaimed,
``Peace, ye yelping curs! who open upon
a cry which ye followed not when the stag was at
bay---De Bracy scorns your censure as he would
disdain your applause. To your brakes and caves,
ye outlawed thieves! and be silent when aught
knightly or noble is but spoken within a league of
your fox-earths.''
This ill-timed defiance might have procured for
De Bracy a volley of arrows, but for the hasty and
imperative interference of the outlaw Chief. Meanwhile
the knight caught a horse by the rein, for
several which had been taken in the stables of
Front-de-B
When the bustle occasioned by this incident was
somewhat composed, the chief Outlaw took from
his neck the rich horn and baldric which he had recently
gained at the strife of archery near Ashby.
``Noble knight.'' he said to him of the Fetterlock,
``if you disdain not to grace by your acceptance
a bugle which an English yeoman has once
worn, this I will pray you to keep as a memorial of
your gallant bearing---and if ye have aught to do,
and, as happeneth oft to a gallant knight, ye chance
to be hard bested in any forest between Trent and
Tees, wind three mots* upon the horn thus, _Wa-sa-hoa!_
* The notes upon the bugle were anciently called mots, and
* are distinguished in the old treatises on hunting, not by musical
* characters, but by written words.
and it may well chance ye shall find helpers
and rescue.''
He then gave breath to the bugle, and winded
once and again the call which be described, until the
knight had caught the notes.
``Gramercy for the gift, bold yeoman,'' said the
Knight; ``and better help than thine and thy rangers
would I never seek, were it at my utmost need.''
And then in his turn he winded the call till all the
greenwood rang.
``Well blown and clearly,'' said the yeoman;
``beshrew me an thou knowest not as much of
woodcraft as of war!---thou hast been a striker of
deer in thy day, I warrant.---Comrades, mark these
three mots---it is the call of the Knight of the Fetterlock;
and he who hears it, and hastens not to
serve him at his need, I will have him scourged out
of our band with his own bowstring.''
``Long live our leader!'' shouted the yeomen,
``and long live the Black Knight of the Fetterlock!---
May he soon use our service, to prove how
readily it will be paid.''
Locksley now proceeded to the distribution of
the spoil, which he performed with the most laudable
impartiality. A tenth part of the whole was
set apart for the church, and for pious uses; a portion
was next allotted to a sort of public treasury;
a part was assigned to the widows and children of
those who had fallen, or to be expended in masses
for the souls of such as had left no surviving family.
The rest was divided amongst the outlaws, according
to their rank and merit, and the judgment of
the Chief, on all such doubtful questions as occurred,
was delivered with great shrewdness, and received
with absolute submission. The Black Knight
was not a little surprised to find that men, in a
state so lawless, were nevertheless among themselves
so regularly and equitably governed, and all
that he observed added to his opinion of the justice
and judgment of their leader.
When each had taken his own proportion of the
booty, and while the treasurer, accompanied by four
tall yeomen, was transporting that belonging to the
state to some place of concealment or of security,
the portion devoted to the church still remained
unappropriated.
``I would,'' said the leader, ``we could hear tidings
of our joyous chaplain---he was never wont
to be absent when meat was to be blessed, or spoil
to be parted; and it is his duty to take care of these
the tithes of our successful enterprise. It may be
the office has helped to cover some of his canonical
irregularities. Also, I have a holy brother of his
a prisoner at no great distance, and I would fain
have the Friar to help me to deal with him in due
sort---I greatly misdoubt the safety of the bluff
priest.''
``I were right sorry for that,'' said the Knight
of the Fetterlock, ``for I stand indebted to him for
the joyous hospitality of a merry night in his cell.
Let us to the ruins of the castle; it may be we shall
there learn some tidings of him.''
While they thus spoke, a loud shout among the
yeomen announced the arrival of him for whom they
feared, as they learned from the stentorian voice of
the Friar himself, long before they saw his burly
person.
``Make room, my merry-men!'' he exclaimed;
``room for your godly father and his prisoner---
Cry welcome once more.---I come, noble leader,
like an eagle with my prey in my clutch.''---And
making his way through the ring, amidst the laughter
of all around, he appeared in majestic triumph,
his huge partisan in one hand, and in the other a
halter, one end of which was fastened to the neck
of the unfortunate Isaac of York, who, bent down
by sorrow and terror, was dragged on by the victorious
priest, who shouted aloud, ``Where is
Allan-a-Dale, to chronicle me in a ballad, or if it
were but a lay?---By Saint Hermangild, the jingling
crowder is ever out of the way where there is
an apt theme for exalting valour!''
``Curtal Priest,'' said the Captain, ``thou hast
been at a wet mass this morning, as early as it is.
In the name of Saint Nicholas, whom hast thou got
here?''
``A captive to my sword and to my lance, noble
Captain,'' replied the Clerk of Copmanhurst; ``to
my bow and to my halberd, I should rather say;
and yet I have redeemed him by my divinity from
a worse captivity. Speak, Jew---have I not ransomed
thee from Sathanas?---have I not taught
thee thy _credo_, thy _pater_, and thine _Ave Maria_?
---Did I not spend the whole night in drinking to
thee, and in expounding of mysteries?''
``For the love of God!'' ejaculated the poor Jew,
``will no one take me out of the keeping of this
mad---I mean this holy man?''
``How's this, Jew?'' said the Friar, with a menacing
aspect; ``dost thou recant, Jew?---Bethink
thee, if thou dost relapse into thine infidelity,
though thou are not so tender as a suckling pig---
I would I had one to break my fast upon---thou
art not too tough to be roasted! Be conformable,
Isaac, and repeat the words after me. _Ave Maria_!---''
``Nay, we will have no profanation, mad Priest,''
said Locksley; ``let us rather hear where you found
this prisoner of thine.''
``By Saint Dunstan,'' said the Friar, ``I found
him where I sought for better ware! I did step into
the cellarage to see what might be rescued there;
for though a cup of burnt wine, with spice, be an
evening's drought for an emperor, it were waste,
methought, to let so much good liquor be mulled
at once; and I had caught up one runlet of sack,
and was coming to call more aid among these lazy
knaves, who are ever to seek when a good deed is
to be done, when I was avised of a strong door---
Aha! thought I, here is the choicest juice of all in
this secret crypt; and the knave butler, being disturbed
in his vocation, hath left the key in the door
---In therefore I went, and found just nought besides
a commodity of rusted chains and this dog of
a Jew, who presently rendered himself my prisoner,
rescue or no rescue. I did but refresh myself after
the fatigue of the action, with the unbeliever, with
one humming cup of sack, and was proceeding to
lead forth my captive, when, crash after crash, as
with wild thunder-dint and levin-fire, down toppled
the masonry of an outer tower, (marry beshrew
their hands that built it not the firmer!) and blocked
up the passage. The roar of one falling tower
followed another---I gave up thought of life; and
deeming it a dishonour to one of my profession to
pass out of this world in company with a Jew, I
heaved up my halberd to beat his brains out; but
I took pity on his grey hairs, and judged it better
to lay down the partisan, and take up my spiritual
weapon for his conversion. And truly, by the blessing
of Saint Dunstan, the seed has been sown in
good soil; only that, with speaking to him of mysteries
through the whole night, and being in a
manner fasting, (for the few droughts of sack which
I sharpened my wits with were not worth marking,)
my head is wellnigh dizzied, I trow.---But I was
clean exhausted.---Gilbert and Wibbald know in
what state they found me---quite and clean exhausted.''
``We can bear witness,'' said Gilbert; ``for
when we had cleared away the ruin, and by Saint
Dunstan's help lighted upon the dungeon stair, we
found the runlet of sack half empty, the Jew half
dead, and the Friar more than half---exhausted, as
he calls it.''
``Ye be knaves! ye lie!'' retorted the offended
Friar; ``it was you and your gormandizing companions
that drank up the sack, and called it your
morning draught---I am a pagan, an I kept it not
for the Captain's own throat. But what recks it?
The Jew is converted, and understands all I have
told him, very nearly, if not altogether, as well as
myself.''
``Jew,'' said the Captain, ``is this true? hast
thou renounced thine unbelief?''
``May I so find mercy in your eyes,'' said the
Jew, ``as I know not one word which the reverend
prelate spake to me all this fearful night. Alas! I
was so distraught with agony, and fear, and grief,
that had our holy father Abraham come to preach
to me, he had found but a deaf listener.''
``Thou liest, Jew, and thou knowest thou dost.''
said the Friar; ``I will remind thee of but one
word of our conference---thou didst promise to give
all thy substance to our holy Order.''
``So help me the Promise, fair sirs,'' said Isaac,
even more alarmed than before, ``as no such sounds
ever crossed my lips! Alas! I am an aged beggar'd
man---I fear me a childless---have ruth on
me, and let me go!''
``Nay,'' said the Friar, ``if thou dost retract
vows made in favour of holy Church, thou must do
penance.''
Accordingly, he raised his halberd, and would
have laid the staff of it lustily on the Jew's shoulders,
had not the Black Knight stopped the blow,
and thereby transferred the Holy Clerk's resentment
to himself.
``By Saint Thomas of Kent,'' said he, ``an I
buckle to my gear, I will teach thee, sir lazy lover,
to mell with thine own matters, maugre thine iron
case there!''
``Nay, be not wroth with me,'' said the Knight;
``thou knowest I am thy sworn friend and comrade.''
``I know no such thing,'' answered the Friar;
``and defy thee for a meddling coxcomb!''
``Nay, but,'' said the Knight, who seemed to
take a pleasure in provoking his quondam host,
``hast thou forgotten how, that for my sake (for I
say nothing of the temptation of the flagon and
the pasty) thou didst break thy vow of fast and
vigil?''
``Truly, friend,'' said the Friar, clenching his
huge fist, ``I will bestow a buffet on thee.''
``I accept of no such presents,'' said the Knight;
``I am content to take thy cuff* as a loan, but I will
* Note G. Richard C
repay thee with usury as deep as ever thy prisoner
there exacted in his traffic.''
``I will prove that presently,'' said the Friar.
``Hola!'' cried the Captain, ``what art thou
after, mad Friar? brawling beneath our Trysting-tree?''
``No brawling,'' said the Knight, ``it is but a
friendly interchange of courtesy.---Friar, strike an
thou darest---I will stand thy blow, if thou wilt
stand mine.''
``Thou hast the advantage with that iron pot
on thy head,'' said the churchman; ``but have at
thee---Down thou goest, an thou wert Goliath of
Gath in his brazen helmet.''
The Friar bared his brawny arm up to the elbow,
and putting his full strength to the blow, gave the
Knight a buffet that might have felled an ox. But
his adversary stood firm as a rock. A loud shout
was uttered by all the yeomen around; for the Clerk's
cuff was proverbial amongst them, and there were
few who, in jest or earnest, had not had the occasion
to know its vigour.
``Now, Priest,'' said, the Knight, pulling off his
gauntlet, ``if I had vantage on my head, I will have
none on my hand---stand fast as a true man.''
``_Genam meam dedi vapulatori_---I have given my
cheek to the smiter,'' said the Priest; ``an thou
canst stir me from the spot, fellow, I will freely bestow
on thee the Jew's ransom.''
So spoke the burly Priest, assuming, on his part,
high defiance. But who may resist his fate? The
buffet of the Knight was given with such strength
and good-will, that the Friar rolled head over heels
upon the plain, to the great amazement of all the
spectators. But he arose neither angry nor crestfallen.
``Brother,'' said he to the Knight, ``thou shouldst
have used thy strength with more discretion. I had
mumbled but a lame mass an thou hadst broken
my jaw, for the piper plays ill that wants the nether
chops. Nevertheless, there is my hand, in friendly
witness, that I will exchange no more cuffs with
thee, having been a loser by the barter. End now
all unkindness. Let us put the Jew to ransom,
since the leopard will not change his spots, and a
Jew he will continue to be.''
``The Priest,'' said Clement, ``is not have so confident
of the Jew's conversion, since he received
that buffet on the ear.''
``Go to, knave, what pratest thou of conversions?
---what, is there no respect?---all masters and no
men?---I tell thee, fellow, I was somewhat totty
when I received the good knight's blow, or I had
kept my ground under it. But an thou gibest more
of it, thou shalt learn I can give as well as take.''
``Peace all!'' said the Captain. ``And thou, Jew,
think of thy ransom; thou needest not to be told
that thy race are held to be accursed in all Christian
communities, and trust me that we cannot endure
thy presence among us. Think, therefore,
of an offer, while I examine a prisoner of another
cast.''
``Were many of Front-de-B
``None of note enough to be put to ransom,'' answered
the Captain; ``a set of hilding fellows there
were, whom we dismissed to find them a new master---
enough had been done for revenge and profit;
the bunch of them were not worth a cardecu. The
prisoner I speak of is better booty---a jolly monk
riding to visit his leman, an I may judge by his
horse-gear and wearing apparel.---Here cometh the
worthy prelate, as pert as a pyet.'' And, between
two yeomen, was brought before the silvan throne
of the outlaw Chief, our old friend, Prior Aymer
of Jorvaulx.
Òà·²¹«ÒæͼÊé¹Ý(shuku.net)