Ivanhoe: A Romance

  CHAPTER XXX

  Approach the chamber, look upon his bed. His is the passing of no peaceful ghost, Which, as the lark arises to the sky, 'Mid morning's sweetest breeze and softest dew, Is wing'd to heaven by good men's sighs and tears!-- Anselm parts otherwise. --Old Play

  During the interval of quiet which followed the first success of thebesiegers, while the one party was preparing to pursue their advantage,and the other to strengthen their means of defence, the Templar and DeBracy held brief council together in the hall of the castle.

  "Where is Front-de-Boeuf?" said the latter, who had superintended thedefence of the fortress on the other side; "men say he hath been slain."

  "He lives," said the Templar, coolly, "lives as yet; but had he worn thebull's head of which he bears the name, and ten plates of iron to fenceit withal, he must have gone down before yonder fatal axe. Yet a fewhours, and Front-de-Boeuf is with his fathers--a powerful limb loppedoff Prince John's enterprise."

  "And a brave addition to the kingdom of Satan," said De Bracy; "thiscomes of reviling saints and angels, and ordering images of holy thingsand holy men to be flung down on the heads of these rascaille yeomen."

  "Go to--thou art a fool," said the Templar; "thy superstition is upon alevel with Front-de-Boeuf's want of faith; neither of you can render areason for your belief or unbelief."

  "Benedicite, Sir Templar," replied De Bracy, "pray you to keep betterrule with your tongue when I am the theme of it. By the Mother ofHeaven, I am a better Christian man than thou and thy fellowship; forthe 'bruit' goeth shrewdly out, that the most holy Order of the Templeof Zion nurseth not a few heretics within its bosom, and that Sir Briande Bois-Guilbert is of the number."

  "Care not thou for such reports," said the Templar; "but let us think ofmaking good the castle.--How fought these villain yeomen on thy side?"

  "Like fiends incarnate," said De Bracy. "They swarmed close up tothe walls, headed, as I think, by the knave who won the prize at thearchery, for I knew his horn and baldric. And this is old Fitzurse'sboasted policy, encouraging these malapert knaves to rebel against us!Had I not been armed in proof, the villain had marked me down seventimes with as little remorse as if I had been a buck in season. He toldevery rivet on my armour with a cloth-yard shaft, that rapped againstmy ribs with as little compunction as if my bones had been of iron--Butthat I wore a shirt of Spanish mail under my plate-coat, I had beenfairly sped."

  "But you maintained your post?" said the Templar. "We lost the outworkon our part."

  "That is a shrewd loss," said De Bracy; "the knaves will find coverthere to assault the castle more closely, and may, if not well watched,gain some unguarded corner of a tower, or some forgotten window, andso break in upon us. Our numbers are too few for the defence of everypoint, and the men complain that they can nowhere show themselves, butthey are the mark for as many arrows as a parish-butt on a holyday even.Front-de-Boeuf is dying too, so we shall receive no more aid from hisbull's head and brutal strength. How think you, Sir Brian, were wenot better make a virtue of necessity, and compound with the rogues bydelivering up our prisoners?"

  "How?" exclaimed the Templar; "deliver up our prisoners, and stand anobject alike of ridicule and execration, as the doughty warriors whodared by a night-attack to possess themselves of the persons of a partyof defenceless travellers, yet could not make good a strong castleagainst a vagabond troop of outlaws, led by swineherds, jesters, and thevery refuse of mankind?--Shame on thy counsel, Maurice de Bracy!--Theruins of this castle shall bury both my body and my shame, ere I consentto such base and dishonourable composition."

  "Let us to the walls, then," said De Bracy, carelessly; "that man neverbreathed, be he Turk or Templar, who held life at lighter rate than Ido. But I trust there is no dishonour in wishing I had here some twoscores of my gallant troop of Free Companions?--Oh, my brave lances! ifye knew but how hard your captain were this day bested, how soon shouldI see my banner at the head of your clump of spears! And how short whilewould these rabble villains stand to endure your encounter!"

  "Wish for whom thou wilt," said the Templar, "but let us makewhat defence we can with the soldiers who remain--They are chieflyFront-de-Boeuf's followers, hated by the English for a thousand acts ofinsolence and oppression."

  "The better," said De Bracy; "the rugged slaves will defend themselvesto the last drop of their blood, ere they encounter the revenge of thepeasants without. Let us up and be doing, then, Brian de Bois-Guilbert;and, live or die, thou shalt see Maurice de Bracy bear himself this dayas a gentleman of blood and lineage."

  "To the walls!" answered the Templar; and they both ascended thebattlements to do all that skill could dictate, and manhood accomplish,in defence of the place. They readily agreed that the point of greatestdanger was that opposite to the outwork of which the assailants hadpossessed themselves. The castle, indeed, was divided from that barbicanby the moat, and it was impossible that the besiegers could assail thepostern-door, with which the outwork corresponded, without surmountingthat obstacle; but it was the opinion both of the Templar and De Bracy,that the besiegers, if governed by the same policy their leader hadalready displayed, would endeavour, by a formidable assault, to drawthe chief part of the defenders' observation to this point, and takemeasures to avail themselves of every negligence which might take placein the defence elsewhere. To guard against such an evil, their numbersonly permitted the knights to place sentinels from space to space alongthe walls in communication with each other, who might give the alarmwhenever danger was threatened. Meanwhile, they agreed that De Bracyshould command the defence at the postern, and the Templar should keepwith him a score of men or thereabouts as a body of reserve, ready tohasten to any other point which might be suddenly threatened. The lossof the barbican had also this unfortunate effect, that, notwithstandingthe superior height of the castle walls, the besieged could not see fromthem, with the same precision as before, the operations of the enemy;for some straggling underwood approached so near the sallyport of theoutwork, that the assailants might introduce into it whatever force theythought proper, not only under cover, but even without the knowledge ofthe defenders. Utterly uncertain, therefore, upon what point the stormwas to burst, De Bracy and his companion were under the necessity ofproviding against every possible contingency, and their followers,however brave, experienced the anxious dejection of mind incident to menenclosed by enemies, who possessed the power of choosing their time andmode of attack.

  Meanwhile, the lord of the beleaguered and endangered castle lay upona bed of bodily pain and mental agony. He had not the usual resource ofbigots in that superstitious period, most of whom were wont to atone forthe crimes they were guilty of by liberality to the church, stupefyingby this means their terrors by the idea of atonement and forgiveness;and although the refuge which success thus purchased, was no more liketo the peace of mind which follows on sincere repentance, than theturbid stupefaction procured by opium resembles healthy and naturalslumbers, it was still a state of mind preferable to the agonies ofawakened remorse. But among the vices of Front-de-Boeuf, a hard andgriping man, avarice was predominant; and he preferred setting churchand churchmen at defiance, to purchasing from them pardon and absolutionat the price of treasure and of manors. Nor did the Templar, an infidelof another stamp, justly characterise his associate, when he saidFront-de-Boeuf could assign no cause for his unbelief and contempt forthe established faith; for the Baron would have alleged that the Churchsold her wares too dear, that the spiritual freedom which she put up tosale was only to be bought like that of the chief captain of Jerusalem,"with a great sum," and Front-de-Boeuf preferred denying the virtue ofthe medicine, to paying the expense of the physician.

  But the moment had now arrived when earth and all his treasures weregliding from before his eyes, and when the savage Baron's heart, thoughhard as a nether millstone, became appalled as he gazed forward into thewaste darkness of futurity. The fever of his body aided the impatienceand agony of his mind, an
d his death-bed exhibited a mixture ofthe newly awakened feelings of horror, combating with the fixed andinveterate obstinacy of his disposition;--a fearful state of mind, onlyto be equalled in those tremendous regions, where there are complaintswithout hope, remorse without repentance, a dreadful sense of presentagony, and a presentiment that it cannot cease or be diminished!

  "Where be these dog-priests now," growled the Baron, "who set such priceon their ghostly mummery?--where be all those unshod Carmelites, forwhom old Front-de-Boeuf founded the convent of St Anne, robbing his heirof many a fair rood of meadow, and many a fat field and close--where bethe greedy hounds now?--Swilling, I warrant me, at the ale, or playingtheir juggling tricks at the bedside of some miserly churl.--Me, theheir of their founder--me, whom their foundation binds them to prayfor--me--ungrateful villains as they are!--they suffer to die like thehouseless dog on yonder common, unshriven and unhouseled!--Tell theTemplar to come hither--he is a priest, and may do something--Butno!--as well confess myself to the devil as to Brian de Bois-Guilbert,who recks neither of heaven nor of hell.--I have heard old men talk ofprayer--prayer by their own voice--Such need not to court or to bribethe false priest--But I--I dare not!"

  "Lives Reginald Front-de-Boeuf," said a broken and shrill voice close byhis bedside, "to say there is that which he dares not!"

  The evil conscience and the shaken nerves of Front-de-Boeuf heard, inthis strange interruption to his soliloquy, the voice of one of thosedemons, who, as the superstition of the times believed, beset thebeds of dying men to distract their thoughts, and turn them from themeditations which concerned their eternal welfare. He shuddered and drewhimself together; but, instantly summoning up his wonted resolution, heexclaimed, "Who is there?--what art thou, that darest to echo my wordsin a tone like that of the night-raven?--Come before my couch that I maysee thee."

  "I am thine evil angel, Reginald Front-de-Boeuf," replied the voice.

  "Let me behold thee then in thy bodily shape, if thou be'st indeed afiend," replied the dying knight; "think not that I will blench fromthee.--By the eternal dungeon, could I but grapple with these horrorsthat hover round me, as I have done with mortal dangers, heaven or hellshould never say that I shrunk from the conflict!"

  "Think on thy sins, Reginald Front-de-Boeuf," said the almost unearthlyvoice, "on rebellion, on rapine, on murder!--Who stirred up thelicentious John to war against his grey-headed father--against hisgenerous brother?"

  "Be thou fiend, priest, or devil," replied Front-de-Boeuf, "thou liestin thy throat!--Not I stirred John to rebellion--not I alone--there werefifty knights and barons, the flower of the midland counties--bettermen never laid lance in rest--And must I answer for the fault doneby fifty?--False fiend, I defy thee! Depart, and haunt my couch nomore--let me die in peace if thou be mortal--if thou be a demon, thytime is not yet come."

  "In peace thou shalt NOT die," repeated the voice; "even in deathshalt thou think on thy murders--on the groans which this castle hasechoed--on the blood that is engrained in its floors!"

  "Thou canst not shake me by thy petty malice," answered Front-de-Boeuf,with a ghastly and constrained laugh. "The infidel Jew--it was meritwith heaven to deal with him as I did, else wherefore are men canonizedwho dip their hands in the blood of Saracens?--The Saxon porkers, whom Ihave slain, they were the foes of my country, and of my lineage, andof my liege lord.--Ho! ho! thou seest there is no crevice in my coat ofplate--Art thou fled?--art thou silenced?"

  "No, foul parricide!" replied the voice; "think of thy father!--thinkof his death!--think of his banquet-room flooded with his gore, and thatpoured forth by the hand of a son!"

  "Ha!" answered the Baron, after a long pause, "an thou knowest that,thou art indeed the author of evil, and as omniscient as the monks callthee!--That secret I deemed locked in my own breast, and in that of onebesides--the temptress, the partaker of my guilt.--Go, leave me, fiend!and seek the Saxon witch Ulrica, who alone could tell thee what sheand I alone witnessed.--Go, I say, to her, who washed the wounds, andstraighted the corpse, and gave to the slain man the outward show ofone parted in time and in the course of nature--Go to her, she was mytemptress, the foul provoker, the more foul rewarder, of the deed--lether, as well as I, taste of the tortures which anticipate hell!"

  "She already tastes them," said Ulrica, stepping before the couch ofFront-de-Boeuf; "she hath long drunken of this cup, and its bitternessis now sweetened to see that thou dost partake it.--Grind not thy teeth,Front-de-Boeuf--roll not thine eyes--clench not thine hand, nor shakeit at me with that gesture of menace!--The hand which, like that of thyrenowned ancestor who gained thy name, could have broken with one strokethe skull of a mountain-bull, is now unnerved and powerless as mineown!"

  "Vile murderous hag!" replied Front-de-Boeuf; "detestable screech-owl!it is then thou who art come to exult over the ruins thou hast assistedto lay low?"

  "Ay, Reginald Front-de-Boeuf," answered she, "it is Ulrica!--it is thedaughter of the murdered Torquil Wolfganger!--it is the sister of hisslaughtered sons!--it is she who demands of thee, and of thy father'shouse, father and kindred, name and fame--all that she has lost by thename of Front-de-Boeuf!--Think of my wrongs, Front-de-Boeuf, and answerme if I speak not truth. Thou hast been my evil angel, and I will bethine--I will dog thee till the very instant of dissolution!"

  "Detestable fury!" exclaimed Front-de-Boeuf, "that moment shalt thounever witness--Ho! Giles, Clement, and Eustace! Saint Maur, and Stephen!seize this damned witch, and hurl her from the battlements headlong--shehas betrayed us to the Saxon!--Ho! Saint Maur! Clement! false-hearted,knaves, where tarry ye?"

  "Call on them again, valiant Baron," said the hag, with a smile ofgrisly mockery; "summon thy vassals around thee, doom them that loiterto the scourge and the dungeon--But know, mighty chief," she continued,suddenly changing her tone, "thou shalt have neither answer, nor aid,nor obedience at their hands.--Listen to these horrid sounds," for thedin of the recommenced assault and defence now rung fearfully loud fromthe battlements of the castle; "in that war-cry is the downfall of thyhouse--The blood-cemented fabric of Front-de-Boeuf's power tottersto the foundation, and before the foes he most despised!--The Saxon,Reginald!--the scorned Saxon assails thy walls!--Why liest thou here,like a worn-out hind, when the Saxon storms thy place of strength?"

  "Gods and fiends!" exclaimed the wounded knight; "O, for one moment'sstrength, to drag myself to the 'melee', and perish as becomes my name!"

  "Think not of it, valiant warrior!" replied she; "thou shalt die nosoldier's death, but perish like the fox in his den, when the peasantshave set fire to the cover around it."

  "Hateful hag! thou liest!" exclaimed Front-de-Boeuf; "my followers bearthem bravely--my walls are strong and high--my comrades in arms fearnot a whole host of Saxons, were they headed by Hengist and Horsa!--Thewar-cry of the Templar and of the Free Companions rises high over theconflict! And by mine honour, when we kindle the blazing beacon, for joyof our defence, it shall consume thee, body and bones; and I shall liveto hear thou art gone from earthly fires to those of that hell, whichnever sent forth an incarnate fiend more utterly diabolical!"

  "Hold thy belief," replied Ulrica, "till the proof reach thee--But, no!"she said, interrupting herself, "thou shalt know, even now, the doom,which all thy power, strength, and courage, is unable to avoid,though it is prepared for thee by this feeble band. Markest thou thesmouldering and suffocating vapour which already eddies in sable foldsthrough the chamber?--Didst thou think it was but the darkening ofthy bursting eyes--the difficulty of thy cumbered breathing?--No!Front-de-Boeuf, there is another cause--Rememberest thou the magazine offuel that is stored beneath these apartments?"

  "Woman!" he exclaimed with fury, "thou hast not set fire to it?--Byheaven, thou hast, and the castle is in flames!"

  "They are fast rising at least," said Ulrica, with frightful composure;"and a signal shall soon wave to warn the besiegers to press hard uponthose who would extinguish them.--Farewell, Front-de-Boeuf!--May Mista,Skogula, and Zernebo
ck, gods of the ancient Saxons--fiends, as thepriests now call them--supply the place of comforters at your dying bed,which Ulrica now relinquishes!--But know, if it will give thee comfortto know it, that Ulrica is bound to the same dark coast with thyself,the companion of thy punishment as the companion of thy guilt.--And now,parricide, farewell for ever!--May each stone of this vaulted roof finda tongue to echo that title into thine ear!"

  So saying, she left the apartment; and Front-de-Boeuf could hear thecrash of the ponderous key, as she locked and double-locked the doorbehind her, thus cutting off the most slender chance of escape. In theextremity of agony he shouted upon his servants and allies--"Stephen andSaint Maur!--Clement and Giles!--I burn here unaided!--To the rescue--tothe rescue, brave Bois-Guilbert, valiant De Bracy!--It is Front-de-Boeufwho calls!--It is your master, ye traitor squires!--Your ally--yourbrother in arms, ye perjured and faithless knights!--all the curses dueto traitors upon your recreant heads, do you abandon me to perish thusmiserably!--They hear me not--they cannot hear me--my voice is lost inthe din of battle.--The smoke rolls thicker and thicker--the fire hascaught upon the floor below--O, for one drought of the air of heaven,were it to be purchased by instant annihilation!" And in the mad frenzyof despair, the wretch now shouted with the shouts of the fighters, nowmuttered curses on himself, on mankind, and on Heaven itself.--"The redfire flashes through the thick smoke!" he exclaimed; "the demon marchesagainst me under the banner of his own element--Foul spirit, avoid!--Igo not with thee without my comrades--all, all are thine, that garrisonthese walls--Thinkest thou Front-de-Boeuf will be singled out to goalone?--No--the infidel Templar--the licentious De Bracy--Ulrica, thefoul murdering strumpet--the men who aided my enterprises--the dogSaxons and accursed Jews, who are my prisoners--all, all shall attendme--a goodly fellowship as ever took the downward road--Ha, ha, ha!" andhe laughed in his frenzy till the vaulted roof rang again. "Who laughedthere?" exclaimed Front-de-Boeuf, in altered mood, for the noise ofthe conflict did not prevent the echoes of his own mad laughterfrom returning upon his ear--"who laughed there?--Ulrica, was itthou?--Speak, witch, and I forgive thee--for, only thou or the fiend ofhell himself could have laughed at such a moment. Avaunt--avaunt!---"

  But it were impious to trace any farther the picture of the blasphemerand parricide's deathbed.