Page 8 of Ivanhoe: A Romance

CHAPTER VI

To buy his favour I extend this friendship: If he will take it, so; if not, adieu; And, for my love, I pray you wrong me not. --Merchant of Venice

As the Palmer, lighted by a domestic with a torch, passed through theintricate combination of apartments of this large and irregular mansion,the cupbearer coming behind him whispered in his ear, that if he hadno objection to a cup of good mead in his apartment, there were manydomestics in that family who would gladly hear the news he had broughtfrom the Holy Land, and particularly that which concerned the Knight ofIvanhoe. Wamba presently appeared to urge the same request, observingthat a cup after midnight was worth three after curfew. Withoutdisputing a maxim urged by such grave authority, the Palmer thanked themfor their courtesy, but observed that he had included in his religiousvow, an obligation never to speak in the kitchen on matters which wereprohibited in the hall. ”That vow,” said Wamba to the cupbearer, ”wouldscarce suit a serving-man.”

The cupbearer shrugged up his shoulders in displeasure. ”I thought tohave lodged him in the solere chamber,” said he; ”but since he is sounsocial to Christians, e'en let him take the next stall to Isaac theJew's.--Anwold,” said he to the torchbearer, ”carry the Pilgrim to thesouthern cell.--I give you good-night,” he added, ”Sir Palmer, withsmall thanks for short courtesy.”

”Good-night, and Our Lady's benison,” said the Palmer, with composure;and his guide moved forward.

In a small antechamber, into which several doors opened, and which waslighted by a small iron lamp, they met a second interruption from thewaiting-maid of Rowena, who, saying in a tone of authority, that hermistress desired to speak with the Palmer, took the torch from the handof Anwold, and, bidding him await her return, made a sign to thePalmer to follow. Apparently he did not think it proper to decline thisinvitation as he had done the former; for, though his gestureindicated some surprise at the summons, he obeyed it without answer orremonstrance.

A short passage, and an ascent of seven steps, each of which wascomposed of a solid beam of oak, led him to the apartment of the LadyRowena, the rude magnificence of which corresponded to the respect whichwas paid to her by the lord of the mansion. The walls were covered withembroidered hangings, on which different-coloured silks, interwoven withgold and silver threads, had been employed with all the art of which theage was capable, to represent the sports of hunting and hawking. The bedwas adorned with the same rich tapestry, and surrounded with curtainsdyed with purple. The seats had also their stained coverings, and one,which was higher than the rest, was accommodated with a footstool ofivory, curiously carved.

No fewer than four silver candelabras, holding great waxen torches,served to illuminate this apartment. Yet let not modern beauty envy themagnificence of a Saxon princess. The walls of the apartment were so illfinished and so full of crevices, that the rich hangings shook in thenight blast, and, in despite of a sort of screen intended to protectthem from the wind, the flame of the torches streamed sideways into theair, like the unfurled pennon of a chieftain. Magnificence there was,with some rude attempt at taste; but of comfort there was little, and,being unknown, it was unmissed.

The Lady Rowena, with three of her attendants standing at her back, andarranging her hair ere she lay down to rest, was seated in the sort ofthrone already mentioned, and looked as if born to exact general homage.The Pilgrim acknowledged her claim to it by a low genuflection.

”Rise, Palmer,” said she graciously. ”The defender of the absent hasa right to favourable reception from all who value truth, and honourmanhood.” She then said to her train, ”Retire, excepting only Elgitha; Iwould speak with this holy Pilgrim.”

The maidens, without leaving the apartment, retired to its furtherextremity, and sat down on a small bench against the wall, where theyremained mute as statues, though at such a distance that their whisperscould not have interrupted the conversation of their mistress.

”Pilgrim,” said the lady, after a moment's pause, during which sheseemed uncertain how to address him, ”you this night mentioned a name--Imean,” she said, with a degree of effort, ”the name of Ivanhoe, inthe halls where by nature and kindred it should have sounded mostacceptably; and yet, such is the perverse course of fate, that of manywhose hearts must have throbbed at the sound, I, only, dare ask youwhere, and in what condition, you left him of whom you spoke?--We heard,that, having remained in Palestine, on account of his impaired health,after the departure of the English army, he had experienced thepersecution of the French faction, to whom the Templars are known to beattached.”

”I know little of the Knight of Ivanhoe,” answered the Palmer, witha troubled voice. ”I would I knew him better, since you, lady, areinterested in his fate. He hath, I believe, surmounted the persecutionof his enemies in Palestine, and is on the eve of returning to England,where you, lady, must know better than I, what is his chance ofhappiness.”

The Lady Rowena sighed deeply, and asked more particularly when theKnight of Ivanhoe might be expected in his native country, and whetherhe would not be exposed to great dangers by the road. On the firstpoint, the Palmer professed ignorance; on the second, he said that thevoyage might be safely made by the way of Venice and Genoa, and fromthence through France to England. ”Ivanhoe,” he said, ”was so wellacquainted with the language and manners of the French, that there wasno fear of his incurring any hazard during that part of his travels.”

”Would to God,” said the Lady Rowena, ”he were here safely arrived, andable to bear arms in the approaching tourney, in which the chivalryof this land are expected to display their address and valour. ShouldAthelstane of Coningsburgh obtain the prize, Ivanhoe is like to hearevil tidings when he reaches England.--How looked he, stranger, whenyou last saw him? Had disease laid her hand heavy upon his strength andcomeliness?”

”He was darker,” said the Palmer, ”and thinner, than when he came fromCyprus in the train of Coeur-de-Lion, and care seemed to sit heavy onhis brow; but I approached not his presence, because he is unknown tome.”

”He will,” said the lady, ”I fear, find little in his native land toclear those clouds from his countenance. Thanks, good Pilgrim, for yourinformation concerning the companion of my childhood.--Maidens,” shesaid, ”draw near--offer the sleeping cup to this holy man, whom I willno longer detain from repose.”

One of the maidens presented a silver cup, containing a rich mixture ofwine and spice, which Rowena barely put to her lips. It was then offeredto the Palmer, who, after a low obeisance, tasted a few drops.

”Accept this alms, friend,” continued the lady, offering a piece ofgold, ”in acknowledgment of thy painful travail, and of the shrines thouhast visited.”

The Palmer received the boon with another low reverence, and followedEdwina out of the apartment.

In the anteroom he found his attendant Anwold, who, taking the torchfrom the hand of the waiting-maid, conducted him with more haste thanceremony to an exterior and ignoble part of the building, where a numberof small apartments, or rather cells, served for sleeping places to thelower order of domestics, and to strangers of mean degree.

”In which of these sleeps the Jew?” said the Pilgrim.

”The unbelieving dog,” answered Anwold, ”kennels in the cell next yourholiness.--St Dunstan, how it must be scraped and cleansed ere it beagain fit for a Christian!”

”And where sleeps Gurth the swineherd?” said the stranger.

”Gurth,” replied the bondsman, ”sleeps in the cell on your right, as theJew on that to your left; you serve to keep the child of circumcisionseparate from the abomination of his tribe. You might have occupied amore honourable place had you accepted of Oswald's invitation.”

”It is as well as it is,” said the Palmer; ”the company, even of a Jew,can hardly spread contamination through an oaken partition.”

So saying, he entered the cabin allotted to him, and taking the torchfrom the domestic's hand, thanked him, and wished him good-night. Havingshut the door of his cell, he placed the torch in a candlestick made ofwood, and looked around his sleeping apartment, the furniture of whichwas of the most simple kind. It consisted of a rude wooden stool,and still ruder hutch or bed-frame, stuffed with clean straw, andaccommodated with two or three sheepskins by way of bed-clothes.

The Palmer, having extinguished his torch, threw himself, without takingoff any part of his clothes, on this rude couch, and slept, or at leastretained his recumbent posture, till the earliest sunbeams found theirway through the little grated window, which served at once to admit bothair and light to his uncomfortable cell. He then started up, and afterrepeating his matins, and adjusting his dress, he left it, and enteredthat of Isaac the Jew, lifting the latch as gently as he could.

The inmate was lying in troubled slumber upon a couch similar to that onwhich the Palmer himself had passed the night. Such parts of his dressas the Jew had laid aside on the preceding evening, were disposedcarefully around his person, as if to prevent the hazard of theirbeing carried off during his slumbers. There was a trouble on his browamounting almost to agony. His hands and arms moved convulsively, asif struggling with the nightmare; and besides several ejaculations inHebrew, the following were distinctly heard in the Norman-English, ormixed language of the country: ”For the sake of the God of Abraham,spare an unhappy old man! I am poor, I am penniless--should your ironswrench my limbs asunder, I could not gratify you!”

The Palmer awaited not the end of the Jew's vision, but stirred him withhis pilgrim's staff. The touch probably associated, as is usual, withsome of the apprehensions excited by his dream; for the old man startedup, his grey hair standing almost erect upon his head, and huddling somepart of his garments about him, while he held the detached pieces withthe tenacious grasp of a falcon, he fixed upon the Palmer his keen blackeyes, expressive of wild surprise and of bodily apprehension.

”Fear nothing from me, Isaac,” said the Palmer, ”I come as your friend.”

”The God of Israel requite you,” said the Jew, greatly relieved; ”Idreamed--But Father Abraham be praised, it was but a dream.” Then,collecting himself, he added in his usual tone, ”And what may it be yourpleasure to want at so early an hour with the poor Jew?”

”It is to tell you,” said the Palmer, ”that if you leave not thismansion instantly, and travel not with some haste, your journey mayprove a dangerous one.”

”Holy father!” said the Jew, ”whom could it interest to endanger so poora wretch as I am?”

”The purpose you can best guess,” said the Pilgrim; ”but rely on this,that when the Templar crossed the hall yesternight, he spoke to hisMussulman slaves in the Saracen language, which I well understand, andcharged them this morning to watch the journey of the Jew, to seize uponhim when at a convenient distance from the mansion, and to conducthim to the castle of Philip de Malvoisin, or to that of ReginaldFront-de-Boeuf.”

It is impossible to describe the extremity of terror which seized uponthe Jew at this information, and seemed at once to overpower his wholefaculties. His arms fell down to his sides, and his head drooped on hisbreast, his knees bent under his weight, every nerve and muscle of hisframe seemed to collapse and lose its energy, and he sunk at the foot ofthe Palmer, not in the fashion of one who intentionally stoops, kneels,or prostrates himself to excite compassion, but like a man borne down onall sides by the pressure of some invisible force, which crushes him tothe earth without the power of resistance.

”Holy God of Abraham!” was his first exclamation, folding and elevatinghis wrinkled hands, but without raising his grey head from the pavement;”Oh, holy Moses! O, blessed Aaron! the dream is not dreamed for nought,and the vision cometh not in vain! I feel their irons already tear mysinews! I feel the rack pass over my body like the saws, and harrows,and axes of iron over the men of Rabbah, and of the cities of thechildren of Ammon!”

”Stand up, Isaac, and hearken to me,” said the Palmer, who viewedthe extremity of his distress with a compassion in which contempt waslargely mingled; ”you have cause for your terror, considering how yourbrethren have been used, in order to extort from them their hoards, bothby princes and nobles; but stand up, I say, and I will point out to youthe means of escape. Leave this mansion instantly, while its inmatessleep sound after the last night's revel. I will guide you by the secretpaths of the forest, known as well to me as to any forester that rangesit, and I will not leave you till you are under safe conduct of somechief or baron going to the tournament, whose good-will you haveprobably the means of securing.”

As the ears of Isaac received the hopes of escape which this speechintimated, he began gradually, and inch by inch, as it were, to raisehimself up from the ground, until he fairly rested upon his knees,throwing back his long grey hair and beard, and fixing his keen blackeyes upon the Palmer's face, with a look expressive at once of hope andfear, not unmingled with suspicion. But when he heard the concludingpart of the sentence, his original terror appeared to revive in fullforce, and he dropt once more on his face, exclaiming, ”'I' possess themeans of securing good-will! alas! there is but one road to the favourof a Christian, and how can the poor Jew find it, whom extortions havealready reduced to the misery of Lazarus?” Then, as if suspicion hadoverpowered his other feelings, he suddenly exclaimed, ”For the love ofGod, young man, betray me not--for the sake of the Great Father whomade us all, Jew as well as Gentile, Israelite and Ishmaelite--do me notreason! I have not means to secure the good-will of a Christian beggar,were he rating it at a single penny.” As he spoke these last words, heraised himself, and grasped the Palmer's mantle with a look of themost earnest entreaty. The pilgrim extricated himself, as if there werecontamination in the touch.

”Wert thou loaded with all the wealth of thy tribe,” he said, ”whatinterest have I to injure thee?--In this dress I am vowed to poverty,nor do I change it for aught save a horse and a coat of mail. Yet thinknot that I care for thy company, or propose myself advantage by it;remain here if thou wilt--Cedric the Saxon may protect thee.”

”Alas!” said the Jew, ”he will not let me travel in his train--Saxon orNorman will be equally ashamed of the poor Israelite; and to travelby myself through the domains of Philip de Malvoisin and ReginaldFront-de-Boeuf--Good youth, I will go with you!--Let us haste--letus gird up our loins--let us flee!--Here is thy staff, why wilt thoutarry?”

”I tarry not,” said the Pilgrim, giving way to the urgency of hiscompanion; ”but I must secure the means of leaving this place--followme.”

He led the way to the adjoining cell, which, as the reader is apprised,was occupied by Gurth the swineherd.--”Arise, Gurth,” said the Pilgrim,”arise quickly. Undo the postern gate, and let out the Jew and me.”

Gurth, whose occupation, though now held so mean, gave him as muchconsequence in Saxon England as that of Eumaeus in Ithaca, was offendedat the familiar and commanding tone assumed by the Palmer. ”The Jewleaving Rotherwood,” said he, raising himself on his elbow, and lookingsuperciliously at him without quitting his pallet, ”and travelling incompany with the Palmer to boot--”

”I should as soon have dreamt,” said Wamba, who entered the apartment atthe instant, ”of his stealing away with a gammon of bacon.”

”Nevertheless,” said Gurth, again laying down his head on the wooden logwhich served him for a pillow, ”both Jew and Gentile must be content toabide the opening of the great gate--we suffer no visitors to depart bystealth at these unseasonable hours.”

”Nevertheless,” said the Pilgrim, in a commanding tone, ”you will not, Ithink, refuse me that favour.”

So saying, he stooped over the bed of the recumbent swineherd, andwhispered something in his ear in Saxon. Gurth started up as ifelectrified. The Pilgrim, raising his finger in an attitude as if toexpress caution, added, ”Gurth, beware--thou are wont to be prudent. Isay, undo the postern--thou shalt know more anon.”

With hasty alacrity Gurth obeyed him, while Wamba and the Jew followed,both wondering at the sudden change in the swineherd's demeanour. ”Mymule, my mule!” said the Jew, as soon as they stood without the postern.

”Fetch him his mule,” said the Pilgrim; ”and, hearest thou,--let me haveanother, that I may bear him company till he is beyond these parts--Iwill return it safely to some of Cedric's train at Ashby. And dothou”--he whispered the rest in Gurth's ear.

”Willingly, most willingly shall it be done,” said Gurth, and instantlydeparted to execute the commission.

”I wish I knew,” said Wamba, when his comrade's back was turned, ”whatyou Palmers learn in the Holy Land.”

”To say our orisons, fool,” answered the Pilgrim, ”to repent our sins,and to mortify ourselves with fastings, vigils, and long prayers.”

”Something more potent than that,” answered the Jester; ”for when wouldrepentance or prayer make Gurth do a courtesy, or fasting or vigilpersuade him to lend you a mule?--I trow you might as well have told hisfavourite black boar of thy vigils and penance, and wouldst have gottenas civil an answer.”

”Go to,” said the Pilgrim, ”thou art but a Saxon fool.”

”Thou sayst well,” said the Jester; ”had I been born a Norman, as Ithink thou art, I would have had luck on my side, and been next door toa wise man.”

At this moment Gurth appeared on the opposite side of the moat with themules. The travellers crossed the ditch upon a drawbridge of only twoplanks breadth, the narrowness of which was matched with the straitnessof the postern, and with a little wicket in the exterior palisade, whichgave access to the forest. No sooner had they reached the mules, thanthe Jew, with hasty and trembling hands, secured behind the saddlea small bag of blue buckram, which he took from under his cloak,containing, as he muttered, ”a change of raiment--only a change ofraiment.” Then getting upon the animal with more alacrity and hastethan could have been anticipated from his years, he lost no time in sodisposing of the skirts of his gabardine as to conceal completely fromobservation the burden which he had thus deposited ”en croupe”.

The Pilgrim mounted with more deliberation, reaching, as he departed,his hand to Gurth, who kissed it with the utmost possible veneration.The swineherd stood gazing after the travellers until they were lostunder the boughs of the forest path, when he was disturbed from hisreverie by the voice of Wamba.

”Knowest thou,” said the Jester, ”my good friend Gurth, that thou artstrangely courteous and most unwontedly pious on this summer morning? Iwould I were a black Prior or a barefoot Palmer, to avail myself of thyunwonted zeal and courtesy--certes, I would make more out of it than akiss of the hand.”

”Thou art no fool thus far, Wamba,” answered Gurth, ”though thou arguestfrom appearances, and the wisest of us can do no more--But it is time tolook after my charge.”

So saying, he turned back to the mansion, attended by the Jester.

Meanwhile the travellers continued to press on their journey with adispatch which argued the extremity of the Jew's fears, since persons athis age are seldom fond of rapid motion. The Palmer, to whom every pathand outlet in the wood appeared to be familiar, led the way through themost devious paths, and more than once excited anew the suspicion ofthe Israelite, that he intended to betray him into some ambuscade of hisenemies.

His doubts might have been indeed pardoned; for, except perhaps theflying fish, there was no race existing on the earth, in the air, orthe waters, who were the object of such an unintermitting, general, andrelentless persecution as the Jews of this period. Upon the slightestand most unreasonable pretences, as well as upon accusations the mostabsurd and groundless, their persons and property were exposed to everyturn of popular fury; for Norman, Saxon, Dane, and Briton, howeveradverse these races were to each other, contended which should look withgreatest detestation upon a people, whom it was accounted a point ofreligion to hate, to revile, to despise, to plunder, and to persecute.The kings of the Norman race, and the independent nobles, who followedtheir example in all acts of tyranny, maintained against this devotedpeople a persecution of a more regular, calculated, and self-interestedkind. It is a well-known story of King John, that he confined a wealthyJew in one of the royal castles, and daily caused one of his teeth tobe torn out, until, when the jaw of the unhappy Israelite was halfdisfurnished, he consented to pay a large sum, which it was the tyrant'sobject to extort from him. The little ready money which was in thecountry was chiefly in possession of this persecuted people, and thenobility hesitated not to follow the example of their sovereign, inwringing it from them by every species of oppression, and even personaltorture. Yet the passive courage inspired by the love of gain, inducedthe Jews to dare the various evils to which they were subjected, inconsideration of the immense profits which they were enabled to realizein a country naturally so wealthy as England. In spite of every kindof discouragement, and even of the special court of taxations alreadymentioned, called the Jews' Exchequer, erected for the very purpose ofdespoiling and distressing them, the Jews increased, multiplied, andaccumulated huge sums, which they transferred from one hand to anotherby means of bills of exchange--an invention for which commerce is saidto be indebted to them, and which enabled them to transfer their wealthfrom land to land, that when threatened with oppression in one country,their treasure might be secured in another.

The obstinacy and avarice of the Jews being thus in a measure placedin opposition to the fanaticism that tyranny of those under whom theylived, seemed to increase in proportion to the persecution with whichthey were visited; and the immense wealth they usually acquired incommerce, while it frequently placed them in danger, was at other timesused to extend their influence, and to secure to them a certaindegree of protection. On these terms they lived; and their character,influenced accordingly, was watchful, suspicious, and timid--yetobstinate, uncomplying, and skilful in evading the dangers to which theywere exposed.

When the travellers had pushed on at a rapid rate through many deviouspaths, the Palmer at length broke silence.

”That large decayed oak,” he said, ”marks the boundaries over whichFront-de-Boeuf claims authority--we are long since far from those ofMalvoisin. There is now no fear of pursuit.”

”May the wheels of their chariots be taken off,” said the Jew, ”likethose of the host of Pharaoh, that they may drive heavily!--But leave menot, good Pilgrim--Think but of that fierce and savage Templar, withhis Saracen slaves--they will regard neither territory, nor manor, norlordship.”

”Our road,” said the Palmer, ”should here separate; for it beseems notmen of my character and thine to travel together longer than needs mustbe. Besides, what succour couldst thou have from me, a peaceful Pilgrim,against two armed heathens?”

”O good youth,” answered the Jew, ”thou canst defend me, and I know thouwouldst. Poor as I am, I will requite it--not with money, for money, sohelp me my Father Abraham, I have none--but---”

”Money and recompense,” said the Palmer, interrupting him, ”I havealready said I require not of thee. Guide thee I can; and, it may be,even in some sort defend thee; since to protect a Jew against a Saracen,can scarce be accounted unworthy of a Christian. Therefore, Jew, I willsee thee safe under some fitting escort. We are now not far from thetown of Sheffield, where thou mayest easily find many of thy tribe withwhom to take refuge.”

”The blessing of Jacob be upon thee, good youth!” said the Jew; ”inSheffield I can harbour with my kinsman Zareth, and find some means oftravelling forth with safety.”

”Be it so,” said the Palmer; ”at Sheffield then we part, andhalf-an-hour's riding will bring us in sight of that town.”

The half hour was spent in perfect silence on both parts; the Pilgrimperhaps disdaining to address the Jew, except in case of absolutenecessity, and the Jew not presuming to force a conversation with aperson whose journey to the Holy Sepulchre gave a sort of sanctity tohis character. They paused on the top of a gently rising bank, and thePilgrim, pointing to the town of Sheffield, which lay beneath them,repeated the words, ”Here, then, we part.”

”Not till you have had the poor Jew's thanks,” said Isaac; ”for Ipresume not to ask you to go with me to my kinsman Zareth's, who mightaid me with some means of repaying your good offices.”

”I have already said,” answered the Pilgrim, ”that I desire norecompense. If among the huge list of thy debtors, thou wilt, for mysake, spare the gyves and the dungeon to some unhappy Christian whostands in thy danger, I shall hold this morning's service to thee wellbestowed.”

”Stay, stay,” said the Jew, laying hold of his garment; ”somethingwould I do more than this, something for thyself.--God knows the Jewis poor--yes, Isaac is the beggar of his tribe--but forgive me should Iguess what thou most lackest at this moment.”

”If thou wert to guess truly,” said the Palmer, ”it is what thou canstnot supply, wert thou as wealthy as thou sayst thou art poor.”

”As I say?” echoed the Jew; ”O! believe it, I say but the truth; I ama plundered, indebted, distressed man. Hard hands have wrung from me mygoods, my money, my ships, and all that I possessed--Yet I can tell theewhat thou lackest, and, it may be, supply it too. Thy wish even now isfor a horse and armour.”

The Palmer started, and turned suddenly towards the Jew:--”What fiendprompted that guess?” said he, hastily.

”No matter,” said the Jew, smiling, ”so that it be a true one--and, as Ican guess thy want, so I can supply it.”

”But consider,” said the Palmer, ”my character, my dress, my vow.”

”I know you Christians,” replied the Jew, ”and that the noblest of youwill take the staff and sandal in superstitious penance, and walk afootto visit the graves of dead men.”

”Blaspheme not, Jew,” said the Pilgrim, sternly.

”Forgive me,” said the Jew; ”I spoke rashly. But there dropt words fromyou last night and this morning, that, like sparks from flint, showedthe metal within; and in the bosom of that Palmer's gown, is hidden aknight's chain and spurs of gold. They glanced as you stooped over mybed in the morning.”

The Pilgrim could not forbear smiling. ”Were thy garments searched by ascurious an eye, Isaac,” said he, ”what discoveries might not be made?”

”No more of that,” said the Jew, changing colour; and drawing forth hiswriting materials in haste, as if to stop the conversation, he began towrite upon a piece of paper which he supported on the top of hisyellow cap, without dismounting from his mule. When he had finished, hedelivered the scroll, which was in the Hebrew character, to the Pilgrim,saying, ”In the town of Leicester all men know the rich Jew, KirjathJairam of Lombardy; give him this scroll--he hath on sale six Milanharnesses, the worst would suit a crowned head--ten goodly steeds, theworst might mount a king, were he to do battle for his throne. Of thesehe will give thee thy choice, with every thing else that can furnishthee forth for the tournament: when it is over, thou wilt return themsafely--unless thou shouldst have wherewith to pay their value to theowner.”

”But, Isaac,” said the Pilgrim, smiling, ”dost thou know that in thesesports, the arms and steed of the knight who is unhorsed are forfeit tohis victor? Now I may be unfortunate, and so lose what I cannot replaceor repay.”

The Jew looked somewhat astounded at this possibility; but collectinghis courage, he replied hastily. ”No--no--no--It is impossible--I willnot think so. The blessing of Our Father will be upon thee. Thy lancewill be powerful as the rod of Moses.”

So saying, he was turning his mule's head away, when the Palmer, in histurn, took hold of his gaberdine. ”Nay, but Isaac, thou knowest not allthe risk. The steed may be slain, the armour injured--for I will spareneither horse nor man. Besides, those of thy tribe give nothing fornothing; something there must be paid for their use.”

The Jew twisted himself in the saddle, like a man in a fit of the colic;but his better feelings predominated over those which were most familiarto him. ”I care not,” he said, ”I care not--let me go. If there isdamage, it will cost you nothing--if there is usage money, KirjathJairam will forgive it for the sake of his kinsman Isaac. Fare theewell!--Yet hark thee, good youth,” said he, turning about, ”thrustthyself not too forward into this vain hurly-burly--I speak not forendangering the steed, and coat of armour, but for the sake of thine ownlife and limbs.”

”Gramercy for thy caution,” said the Palmer, again smiling; ”I will usethy courtesy frankly, and it will go hard with me but I will requiteit.”

They parted, and took different roads for the town of Sheffield.