CHAPTER V
Hath not a Jew eyes? Hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions? Fed with the same food, hurt with the same weapons, subject to the same diseases, healed by the same means, warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer, as a Christian is? --Merchant of Venice
Oswald, returning, whispered into the ear of his master, "It is a Jew,who calls himself Isaac of York; is it fit I should marshall him intothe hall?"
"Let Gurth do thine office, Oswald," said Wamba with his usualeffrontery; "the swineherd will be a fit usher to the Jew."
"St Mary," said the Abbot, crossing himself, "an unbelieving Jew, andadmitted into this presence!"
"A dog Jew," echoed the Templar, "to approach a defender of the HolySepulchre?"
"By my faith," said Wamba, "it would seem the Templars love the Jews'inheritance better than they do their company."
"Peace, my worthy guests," said Cedric; "my hospitality must not bebounded by your dislikes. If Heaven bore with the whole nation ofstiff-necked unbelievers for more years than a layman can number, we mayendure the presence of one Jew for a few hours. But I constrain no manto converse or to feed with him.--Let him have a board and a morselapart,--unless," he said smiling, "these turban'd strangers will admithis society."
"Sir Franklin," answered the Templar, "my Saracen slaves are trueMoslems, and scorn as much as any Christian to hold intercourse with aJew."
"Now, in faith," said Wamba, "I cannot see that the worshippers ofMahound and Termagaunt have so greatly the advantage over the peopleonce chosen of Heaven."
"He shall sit with thee, Wamba," said Cedric; "the fool and the knavewill be well met."
"The fool," answered Wamba, raising the relics of a gammon of bacon,"will take care to erect a bulwark against the knave."
"Hush," said Cedric, "for here he comes."
Introduced with little ceremony, and advancing with fear and hesitation,and many a bow of deep humility, a tall thin old man, who, however, hadlost by the habit of stooping much of his actual height, approached thelower end of the board. His features, keen and regular, with an aquilinenose, and piercing black eyes; his high and wrinkled forehead, and longgrey hair and beard, would have been considered as handsome, had theynot been the marks of a physiognomy peculiar to a race, which, duringthose dark ages, was alike detested by the credulous and prejudicedvulgar, and persecuted by the greedy and rapacious nobility, and who,perhaps, owing to that very hatred and persecution, had adopted anational character, in which there was much, to say the least, mean andunamiable.
The Jew's dress, which appeared to have suffered considerably from thestorm, was a plain russet cloak of many folds, covering a dark purpletunic. He had large boots lined with fur, and a belt around hiswaist, which sustained a small knife, together with a case for writingmaterials, but no weapon. He wore a high square yellow cap of a peculiarfashion, assigned to his nation to distinguish them from Christians, andwhich he doffed with great humility at the door of the hall.
The reception of this person in the hall of Cedric the Saxon, was suchas might have satisfied the most prejudiced enemy of the tribes ofIsrael. Cedric himself coldly nodded in answer to the Jew's repeatedsalutations, and signed to him to take place at the lower end of thetable, where, however, no one offered to make room for him. On thecontrary, as he passed along the file, casting a timid supplicatingglance, and turning towards each of those who occupied the lower end ofthe board, the Saxon domestics squared their shoulders, and continuedto devour their supper with great perseverance, paying not the leastattention to the wants of the new guest. The attendants of the Abbotcrossed themselves, with looks of pious horror, and the very heathenSaracens, as Isaac drew near them, curled up their whiskers withindignation, and laid their hands on their poniards, as if ready torid themselves by the most desperate means from the apprehendedcontamination of his nearer approach.
Probably the same motives which induced Cedric to open his hall to thisson of a rejected people, would have made him insist on his attendantsreceiving Isaac with more courtesy. But the Abbot had, at this moment,engaged him in a most interesting discussion on the breed and characterof his favourite hounds, which he would not have interrupted for mattersof much greater importance than that of a Jew going to bed supperless.While Isaac thus stood an outcast in the present society, like hispeople among the nations, looking in vain for welcome or restingplace, the pilgrim who sat by the chimney took compassion upon him, andresigned his seat, saying briefly, "Old man, my garments are dried,my hunger is appeased, thou art both wet and fasting." So saying, hegathered together, and brought to a flame, the decaying brands whichlay scattered on the ample hearth; took from the larger board a mess ofpottage and seethed kid, placed it upon the small table at which he hadhimself supped, and, without waiting the Jew's thanks, went to theother side of the hall;--whether from unwillingness to hold more closecommunication with the object of his benevolence, or from a wish to drawnear to the upper end of the table, seemed uncertain.
Had there been painters in those days capable to execute such a subject,the Jew, as he bent his withered form, and expanded his chilled andtrembling hands over the fire, would have formed no bad emblematicalpersonification of the Winter season. Having dispelled the cold, heturned eagerly to the smoking mess which was placed before him, andate with a haste and an apparent relish, that seemed to betoken longabstinence from food.
Meanwhile the Abbot and Cedric continued their discourse upon hunting;the Lady Rowena seemed engaged in conversation with one of her attendantfemales; and the haughty Templar, whose eye wandered from the Jew tothe Saxon beauty, revolved in his mind thoughts which appeared deeply tointerest him.
"I marvel, worthy Cedric," said the Abbot, as their discourse proceeded,"that, great as your predilection is for your own manly language, you donot receive the Norman-French into your favour, so far at least as themystery of wood-craft and hunting is concerned. Surely no tongue is sorich in the various phrases which the field-sports demand, or furnishesmeans to the experienced woodman so well to express his jovial art."
"Good Father Aymer," said the Saxon, "be it known to you, I care notfor those over-sea refinements, without which I can well enough take mypleasure in the woods. I can wind my horn, though I call not the blasteither a 'recheate' or a 'morte'--I can cheer my dogs on the prey, andI can flay and quarter the animal when it is brought down, without usingthe newfangled jargon of 'curee, arbor, nombles', and all the babble ofthe fabulous Sir Tristrem." [14]
"The French," said the Templar, raising his voice with the presumptuousand authoritative tone which he used upon all occasions, "is not onlythe natural language of the chase, but that of love and of war, in whichladies should be won and enemies defied."
"Pledge me in a cup of wine, Sir Templar," said Cedric, "and fillanother to the Abbot, while I look back some thirty years to tell youanother tale. As Cedric the Saxon then was, his plain English taleneeded no garnish from French troubadours, when it was told in the earof beauty; and the field of Northallerton, upon the day of the HolyStandard, could tell whether the Saxon war-cry was not heard as farwithin the ranks of the Scottish host as the 'cri de guerre' ofthe boldest Norman baron. To the memory of the brave who foughtthere!--Pledge me, my guests." He drank deep, and went on withincreasing warmth. "Ay, that was a day of cleaving of shields, when ahundred banners were bent forwards over the heads of the valiant, andblood flowed round like water, and death was held better than flight.A Saxon bard had called it a feast of the swords--a gathering of theeagles to the prey--the clashing of bills upon shield and helmet, theshouting of battle more joyful than the clamour of a bridal. But ourbards are no more," he said; "our deeds are lost in those of anotherrace--our language--our very name--is hastening to decay, and nonemourns for it save one solitary old man--Cupbearer! knave, fill thegoblets--To the strong in arms, Sir Templar, be their race or languagewhat it will, who now bear them best in Palestine among the champions ofthe Cross!"
"It
becomes not one wearing this badge to answer," said Sir Brian deBois-Guilbert; "yet to whom, besides the sworn Champions of the HolySepulchre, can the palm be assigned among the champions of the Cross?"
"To the Knights Hospitallers," said the Abbot; "I have a brother oftheir order."
"I impeach not their fame," said the Templar; "nevertheless---"
"I think, friend Cedric," said Wamba, interfering, "that had Richardof the Lion's Heart been wise enough to have taken a fool's advice,he might have staid at home with his merry Englishmen, and left therecovery of Jerusalem to those same Knights who had most to do with theloss of it."
"Were there, then, none in the English army," said the Lady Rowena,"whose names are worthy to be mentioned with the Knights of the Temple,and of St John?"
"Forgive me, lady," replied De Bois-Guilbert; "the English monarch did,indeed, bring to Palestine a host of gallant warriors, second only tothose whose breasts have been the unceasing bulwark of that blessedland."
"Second to NONE," said the Pilgrim, who had stood near enough to hear,and had listened to this conversation with marked impatience. All turnedtoward the spot from whence this unexpected asseveration was heard.
"I say," repeated the Pilgrim in a firm and strong voice, "that theEnglish chivalry were second to NONE who ever drew sword in defence ofthe Holy Land. I say besides, for I saw it, that King Richard himself,and five of his knights, held a tournament after the taking of StJohn-de-Acre, as challengers against all comers. I say that, on thatday, each knight ran three courses, and cast to the ground threeantagonists. I add, that seven of these assailants were Knights of theTemple--and Sir Brian de Bois-Guilbert well knows the truth of what Itell you."
It is impossible for language to describe the bitter scowl of ragewhich rendered yet darker the swarthy countenance of the Templar. In theextremity of his resentment and confusion, his quivering fingers gripedtowards the handle of his sword, and perhaps only withdrew, from theconsciousness that no act of violence could be safely executed in thatplace and presence. Cedric, whose feelings were all of a right onwardand simple kind, and were seldom occupied by more than one object atonce, omitted, in the joyous glee with which he heard of the glory ofhis countrymen, to remark the angry confusion of his guest; "I wouldgive thee this golden bracelet, Pilgrim," he said, "couldst thou tell methe names of those knights who upheld so gallantly the renown of merryEngland."
"That will I do blithely," replied the Pilgrim, "and without guerdon; myoath, for a time, prohibits me from touching gold."
"I will wear the bracelet for you, if you will, friend Palmer," saidWamba.
"The first in honour as in arms, in renown as in place," said thePilgrim, "was the brave Richard, King of England."
"I forgive him," said Cedric; "I forgive him his descent from the tyrantDuke William."
"The Earl of Leicester was the second," continued the Pilgrim; "SirThomas Multon of Gilsland was the third."
"Of Saxon descent, he at least," said Cedric, with exultation.
"Sir Foulk Doilly the fourth," proceeded the Pilgrim.
"Saxon also, at least by the mother's side," continued Cedric, wholistened with the utmost eagerness, and forgot, in part at least, hishatred to the Normans, in the common triumph of the King of England andhis islanders. "And who was the fifth?" he demanded.
"The fifth was Sir Edwin Turneham."
"Genuine Saxon, by the soul of Hengist!" shouted Cedric--"And thesixth?" he continued with eagerness--"how name you the sixth?"
"The sixth," said the Palmer, after a pause, in which he seemed torecollect himself, "was a young knight of lesser renown and lower rank,assumed into that honourable company, less to aid their enterprise thanto make up their number--his name dwells not in my memory."
"Sir Palmer," said Sir Brian de Bois-Guilbert scornfully, "this assumedforgetfulness, after so much has been remembered, comes too late toserve your purpose. I will myself tell the name of the knight beforewhose lance fortune and my horse's fault occasioned my falling--it wasthe Knight of Ivanhoe; nor was there one of the six that, for his years,had more renown in arms.--Yet this will I say, and loudly--that were hein England, and durst repeat, in this week's tournament, the challengeof St John-de-Acre, I, mounted and armed as I now am, would give himevery advantage of weapons, and abide the result."
"Your challenge would soon be answered," replied the Palmer, "were yourantagonist near you. As the matter is, disturb not the peaceful hallwith vaunts of the issue of the conflict, which you well know cannottake place. If Ivanhoe ever returns from Palestine, I will be his suretythat he meets you."
"A goodly security!" said the Knight Templar; "and what do you profferas a pledge?"
"This reliquary," said the Palmer, taking a small ivory box from hisbosom, and crossing himself, "containing a portion of the true cross,brought from the Monastery of Mount Carmel."
The Prior of Jorvaulx crossed himself and repeated a pater noster, inwhich all devoutly joined, excepting the Jew, the Mahomedans, and theTemplar; the latter of whom, without vailing his bonnet, or testifyingany reverence for the alleged sanctity of the relic, took from his necka gold chain, which he flung on the board, saying--"Let Prior Aymerhold my pledge and that of this nameless vagrant, in token that when theKnight of Ivanhoe comes within the four seas of Britain, he underliesthe challenge of Brian de Bois-Guilbert, which, if he answer not, I willproclaim him as a coward on the walls of every Temple Court in Europe."
"It will not need," said the Lady Rowena, breaking silence; "My voiceshall be heard, if no other in this hall is raised in behalf of theabsent Ivanhoe. I affirm he will meet fairly every honourable challenge.Could my weak warrant add security to the inestimable pledge of thisholy pilgrim, I would pledge name and fame that Ivanhoe gives this proudknight the meeting he desires."
A crowd of conflicting emotions seemed to have occupied Cedric, andkept him silent during this discussion. Gratified pride, resentment,embarrassment, chased each other over his broad and open brow, like theshadow of clouds drifting over a harvest-field; while his attendants,on whom the name of the sixth knight seemed to produce an effect almostelectrical, hung in suspense upon their master's looks. But when Rowenaspoke, the sound of her voice seemed to startle him from his silence.
"Lady," said Cedric, "this beseems not; were further pledge necessary, Imyself, offended, and justly offended, as I am, would yet gage my honourfor the honour of Ivanhoe. But the wager of battle is complete, evenaccording to the fantastic fashions of Norman chivalry--Is it not,Father Aymer?"
"It is," replied the Prior; "and the blessed relic and rich chain will Ibestow safely in the treasury of our convent, until the decision of thiswarlike challenge."
Having thus spoken, he crossed himself again and again, and aftermany genuflections and muttered prayers, he delivered the reliquary toBrother Ambrose, his attendant monk, while he himself swept up with lessceremony, but perhaps with no less internal satisfaction, the goldenchain, and bestowed it in a pouch lined with perfumed leather, whichopened under his arm. "And now, Sir Cedric," he said, "my ears arechiming vespers with the strength of your good wine--permit us anotherpledge to the welfare of the Lady Rowena, and indulge us with liberty topass to our repose."
"By the rood of Bromholme," said the Saxon, "you do but small credit toyour fame, Sir Prior! Report speaks you a bonny monk, that would hearthe matin chime ere he quitted his bowl; and, old as I am, I feared tohave shame in encountering you. But, by my faith, a Saxon boy of twelve,in my time, would not so soon have relinquished his goblet."
The Prior had his own reasons, however, for persevering in the courseof temperance which he had adopted. He was not only a professionalpeacemaker, but from practice a hater of all feuds and brawls. It wasnot altogether from a love to his neighbour, or to himself, or froma mixture of both. On the present occasion, he had an instinctiveapprehension of the fiery temper of the Saxon, and saw the danger thatthe reckless and presumptuous spirit, of which his companion hadalready given so many proofs, might at
length produce some disagreeableexplosion. He therefore gently insinuated the incapacity of the nativeof any other country to engage in the genial conflict of the bowlwith the hardy and strong-headed Saxons; something he mentioned, butslightly, about his own holy character, and ended by pressing hisproposal to depart to repose.
The grace-cup was accordingly served round, and the guests, after makingdeep obeisance to their landlord and to the Lady Rowena, arose andmingled in the hall, while the heads of the family, by separate doors,retired with their attendants.
"Unbelieving dog," said the Templar to Isaac the Jew, as he passed himin the throng, "dost thou bend thy course to the tournament?"
"I do so propose," replied Isaac, bowing in all humility, "if it pleaseyour reverend valour."
"Ay," said the Knight, "to gnaw the bowels of our nobles with usury,and to gull women and boys with gauds and toys--I warrant thee store ofshekels in thy Jewish scrip."
"Not a shekel, not a silver penny, not a halfling--so help me the Godof Abraham!" said the Jew, clasping his hands; "I go but to seek theassistance of some brethren of my tribe to aid me to pay the fine whichthe Exchequer of the Jews have imposed upon me--Father Jacob be myspeed! I am an impoverished wretch--the very gaberdine I wear isborrowed from Reuben of Tadcaster." [15]
The Templar smiled sourly as he replied, "Beshrew thee for afalse-hearted liar!" and passing onward, as if disdaining fartherconference, he communed with his Moslem slaves in a language unknown tothe bystanders. The poor Israelite seemed so staggered by the addressof the military monk, that the Templar had passed on to the extremityof the hall ere he raised his head from the humble posture which he hadassumed, so far as to be sensible of his departure. And when he didlook around, it was with the astonished air of one at whose feet athunderbolt has just burst, and who hears still the astounding reportringing in his ears.
The Templar and Prior were shortly after marshalled to their sleepingapartments by the steward and the cupbearer, each attended by twotorchbearers and two servants carrying refreshments, while servants ofinferior condition indicated to their retinue and to the other gueststheir respective places of repose.