Chapter XIII: Part 13

Now night being come again, and the Giant and his Wife being in bed, she asked him concerning the Prisoners, and if they had taken his counsel: To which he replied, They are sturdy Rogues, they chuse rather to bear all hardship, than to make away themselves. Then said she, Take them into the Castle-yard to-morrow, and shew them the Bones and Skulls of those that thou hast already dispatch'd, and make them believe, e'er a week comes to an end, thou also wilt tear them in pieces, as thou hast done their fellows before them.

So when the morning was come, the Giant goes to them again, and takes them into the Castle-yard and shews them as his Wife had bidden him. These, said he, were Pilgrims as you are, once, and they trespassed in my grounds, as you have done; and when I thought fit, I tore them in pieces, and so within ten days I will do you. Go get you down to your Den again; and with that he beat them all the way thither. They lay therefore all day on _Saturday_ in a lamentable case, as before. Now when night was come, and when Mrs. Diffidence and her Husband the Giant were got to bed, they began to renew their discourse of their Prisoners; and withal the old Giant wondered, that he could neither by his blows nor counsel bring them to an end. And with that his Wife replied, I fear, said she, that they live in hope that some will come to relieve them, or that they have pick-locks about them, by the means of which they hope to escape. And sayest thou so, my dear? said the Giant, I will therefore search them in the morning.

Well on _Saturday_ about midnight they began to _pray_, and continued in Prayer till almost break of day.

Now a little before it was day, good _Christian_, as one half amazed, brake out in passionate speech: _What a fool_, quoth he, _am I, thus to lie in a stinking Dungeon, when I may as well walk at liberty. I_ have a Key in my bosom called Promise, that will, I am persuaded, open any Lock in _Doubting_ Castle. Then said _Hopeful_, That's good news; good Brother, pluck it out of thy bosom and try.

Then _Christian_ pulled it out of his bosom, and began to try at the Dungeon door, whose bolt (as he turned the Key) gave back, and the door flew open with ease, and _Christian_ and _Hopeful_ both came out. Then he went to the outward door that leads into the Castle-yard, and with his Key opened that door also. After he went to the iron Gate, for that must be opened too, but that Lock went damnable hard, yet the Key did open it. Then they thrust open the Gate to make their escape with speed; but that Gate as it opened made such a creaking, that it waked Giant _Despair_, who hastily rising to pursue his Prisoners, felt his limbs to fail, for his Fits took him again, so that he could by no means go after them. Then they went on, and came to the King's High-way again, and so were safe, because they were out of his jurisdiction.

Now when they were gone over the Stile, they began to contrive with themselves what they should do at that Stile, to prevent those that should come after from falling into the hands of Giant _Despair_. So they consented to erect there a Pillar, and to engrave upon the side thereof this sentence, _Over this Stile is the way to_ Doubting _Castle, which is kept by Giant_ Despair, _who despiseth the King of the Coelestial Country, and seeks to destroy his holy Pilgrims._ Many therefore that followed after read what was written, and escaped the danger. This done, they sang as follows:

Out of the way we went, and then we found
What 'twas to tread upon forbidden ground;
And let them that come after have a care,
Lest heedlessness makes them, as we, to fare.
Lest they for trespassing his prisoners are,
Whose Castle's _Doubting, and whose name's Despair_.

CHRISTIAN AND HOPEFUL ARRIVE AT THE CAELESTIAL CITY

By John Bunyan

I saw that as they went on, there met them two men, in Raiment that shone like Gold, also their faces shone as the light.

These men asked the Pilgrims whence they came? and they told them. They also asked them where they had lodged, what difficulties and dangers, what comforts and pleasures they had met in the way? and they told them. Then said the men that met them, You have but two difficulties more to meet with, and then you are in the City.

And I slept, and Dreamed again, and saw the same two Pilgrims going down the Mountains along the High-way towards the City.

Now you must note that the City stood upon a mighty Hill, but the Pilgrims went up that Hill with ease because they had these two men to lead them up by the arms; also they had left their _mortal Garments_ behind them in the River. They therefore went up here with much agility and speed, though the foundation upon which the City was framed was higher than the Clouds. They therefore went up through the Regions of the Air, sweetly talking as they went, being comforted, because they safely got over the River, and had such glorious Companions to attend them.

The talk that they had with the Shining Ones was about the glory of the place, who told them that the beauty and glory of it was inexpressible. There, said they, is the Mount _Sion_, the heavenly _Jerusalem_, the innumerable company of Angels, and the Spirits of just men made perfect. You are going now, said they, to the Paradise of God, wherein you shall see the Tree of Life, and eat of the never-fading fruits thereof; and when you come there, you shall have white Robes given you, and your walk and talk shall be every day with the King, even all the days of Eternity. There you shall not see again such things as you saw when you were in the lower Region upon the earth, to wit, sorrow, sickness, affliction, and health, _for the former things are passed away_. You are now going to _Abraham_, to _Isaac_, and _Jacob_, and to the Prophets, men that God hath taken away from the evil to come, and that are now resting upon their beds, each one walking in his righteousness. The men then asked, What must we do in the holy place? To whom it was answered, You must there receive the comfort of all your toil, and have joy for all your sorrow; you must reap what you have sown, even the fruit of all your Prayers and Tears, and sufferings for the King by the way. In that place you must wear Crowns of Gold, and enjoy the perpetual sight and vision of the Holy One, _for there you shall see him as he is_. There also you shall serve him continually with praise, with shouting, and thanksgiving, whom you desired to serve in the World, though with much difficulty, because of the infirmity of your flesh. There your eyes shall be delighted with seeing, and your ears with hearing the pleasant voice of the Mighty One. There you shall enjoy your friends again, that are gone thither before you; and there you shall with joy receive even every one that follows into the holy place after you. There also shall you be cloathed with Glory and Majesty, and put into an equipage fit to ride out with the King of Glory. When he shall come with sound of Trumpet in the Clouds, as upon the wings of the Wind, you shall come with him; and when he shall sit upon the Throne of Judgment, you shall sit by him; yea, and when he shall pass sentence upon all the workers of iniquity, let them be Angels or Men, you also shall have a voice in that Judgment, because they were his and your Enemies. Also when he shall again return to the City, you shall go too, with sound of Trumpet, and be ever with him.

Now while they were thus drawing towards the Gate, behold a company of the Heavenly Host came out to meet them; to whom it was said by the other two Shining Ones, These are the men that have loved our Lord when they were in the World, and that have left all for his Holy Name, and he hath sent us to fetch them, and we have brought them thus far on their desired Journey, that they may go in and look their Redeemer in the face with joy. Then the Heavenly Host gave a great shout, saying, _Blessed are they that are called to the Marriage Supper of the Lamb._ There came out also at this time to meet them, several of the King's Trumpeters, cloathed in white and shining Raiment, who with melodious noises and loud, made even the Heavens to echo with their sound. These Trumpeters saluted _Christian_ and his fellow with ten thousand welcomes from the World, and this they did with shouting and sound of Trumpet.

This done, they compassed them round on every side; some went before, some behind, and some on the right hand, some on the left, (as 'twere to guard them through the upper Regions) continually sounding as they went with melodious noise, in notes on high: so that the very sight was to them that could behold it, as if Heaven itself was come down to meet them. Thus therefore they walked on together; and as they walked, ever and anon these Trumpeters, even with joyful sound, would, by mixing their musick with looks and gestures, still signify to _Christian_ and his Brother, how welcome they were into their company, and with what gladness they came to meet them; and now were these two men as 'twere in Heaven before they came at it, being swallowed up with the sight of Angels, and with hearing of their melodious notes. Here also they had the City itself in view, and they thought they heard all the Bells therein ring to welcome them thereto. But above all, the warm and joyful thoughts that they had about their own dwelling there, with such company, and that for ever and ever. Oh, by what tongue or pen can their glorious joy be expressed! And thus they came up to the Gate.

Now when they were come up to the Gate, there was written over it in Letters of Gold, _Blessed are they that do his Commandments, that they may have right to the Tree of Life, and may enter in through the Gates into the City_.

Then I saw in my Dream, that the Shining Men bid them call at the Gate; the which when they did, some from above looked over the Gate, to wit, _Enoch_, _Moses_, and _Elijah_, _&c_., to whom it was said, These Pilgrims are come from the City of _Destruction_ for the love that they bear to the King of this place; and then the Pilgrims gave in unto them each man his Certificate, which they had received in the beginning; those therefore were carried in to the King, who when he had read them, said, Where are the men? To whom it was answered, They are standing without the Gate. The King then commanded to open the Gate, _That the righteous nation_, saith he, _that keepeth Truth may enter in_.

Now I saw in my Dream that these two men went in at the Gate: and lo, as they entered, they were transfigured, and they had Raiment put on that shone like Gold. There was also that met them with Harps and Crowns, and gave them to them, the Harps to praise withal, and the Crowns in token of honour. Then I heard in my Dream that all the Bells in the City rang again for joy, and that it was said unto them, _Enter ye into the joy of your Lord_. I also heard the men themselves, that they sang with a loud voice, saying, _Blessing, Honour, Glory, and Power, be to him that sitteth upon the Throne, and to the Lamb for ever and ever_.

Now just as the Gates were opened to let in the men, I looked in after them, and behold, the City shone like the Sun; the Streets also were paved with Gold, and in them walked many men, with Crowns on their heads, Palms in their hands, and golden Harps to sing praises withal.

There were also of them that had wings, and they answered one another without intermission, saying, _Holy, Holy, Holy, is the Lord_. And after that they shut up the Gates. Which when I had seen, I wished myself among them.

Now while I was gazing upon all these things, I turned my head to look back, and saw Ignorance come up to the River-side; but he soon got over, and that without half that difficulty which the other two men met with. For it happened that there was then in that place one Vain-hope a Ferry-man, that with his Boat helped him over; so he, as the other I saw, did ascend the Hill to come up to the Gate, only he came alone; neither did any man meet him with the least encouragement. When he was come up to the Gate, he looked up to the writing that was above, and then began to knock, supposing that entrance should have been quickly administered to him; but he was asked by the men that looked over the top of the Gate, Whence came you? and what would you have? He answered, I have eat and drank in the presence of the King, and he has taught in our Streets. Then they asked him for his Certificate, that they might go in and shew it to the King. So he fumbled in his bosom for one, and found none. Then said they, Have you none? But the man answered never a word. So they told the King, but he would not come down to see him, but commanded the two Shining Ones that conducted _Christian_ and _Hopeful_ to the City, to go out and take _Ignorance_, and bind him hand and foot, and have him away. Then they took him up, and carried him through the air to the door that I saw in the side of the Hill, and put him in there. Then I saw that there was a way to Hell even from the Gates of Heaven, as well as from the City of _Destruction_. So I awoke, and behold it was a Dream.

IVANHOE AND GUY MANNERING

_Before we have reached the second page of what Anthony Trollope called "the most favorite novel in the English language," the Commander of the Knights Templars and his followers have reined up their horses outside the old hall of Rotherwood, and a loud blast from the horn convinces us that they won't wait very long for an invitation to enter. And there is Rowena, for whom the Disinherited Knight shall fight against all comers. We hold our breaths as he rides full-tilt at the Norman Knight and strikes him full on the visor of his helmet, throwing horse and rider to the ground. Here are Isaac the Jew and Rebecca his beautiful daughter; and Wamba the jester, disguised as a monk, is rescuing Cedric--

Does any boy or girl need to know more of what Ivanhoe is about?

No one who begins to read Guy Mannering will wish to put it down until he has finished it._

IVANHOE

Retold by Sir Edward Sullivan

At the time when King Richard, of the Lion Heart, was absent from his country, and a prisoner in the power of the perfidious and cruel Duke of Austria, there lived in England a highborn Saxon, named Cedric. He was one of the few native princes who still continued to occupy the home of his fathers; but, like many more of the conquered English people, he had felt the tyranny and oppressive insolence of the haughty Norman barons. He was a man of great personal strength, possessed of a hasty and choleric temper, but he had shrewdly refrained from showing any open hostility to the successors of the Conqueror; and so contrived to maintain his ancient state in his mansion at Rotherwood, while many others in a similar situation had been compelled to give up their homes and properties to the supporters of the Norman invader.

He had an only son, Wilfred by name, with whom he had quarrelled; and the young man, finding himself disinherited, had adopted the profession of a champion of the Cross, and sailed away to Palestine with the army of the Crusaders.

One evening, in the autumn of the year, Cedric was about to sit down to supper in the old hall at Rotherwood, when the blast of a horn was heard at his gate. In a few minutes after, a warder announced that the Prior Aymer, of Jorvaulx, and the good knight Brian de Bois-Guilbert, commander of the valiant order of Knights Templars, with a small retinue, requested hospitality and lodging for the night, being on their way to a tournament which was to be held not far from Ashby-de-la-Zouche.

"Normans both," muttered Cedric; "but they are welcome to the hospitality of Rotherwood. Admit them."

The noble guests were ushered in shortly after, accompanied by their attendants, and Cedric bade them welcome to his hall.

When the repast was about to begin, the steward, suddenly raising his wand, said aloud: "Forbear! Place for the Lady Rowena." As he spoke a side-door at the upper end of the hall opened, and Rowena, the fair and stately ward of Cedric, followed by four female attendants, entered the apartment. All stood up to receive her, and replying to their courtesy by a mute gesture of salutation, she moved gracefully forward to assume her place at the board, while the eyes of Brian de Bois-Guilbert seemed to be riveted by the striking beauty of her face.

As the banquet went on, conversation was interrupted by the entrance of a page, who announced that there was a stranger at the gate imploring admittance and hospitality.

"Admit him," said Cedric, "be he who or what he may."

The page retired; and returning shortly after, whispered into the ear of his master:

"It is a Jew, who calls himself Isaac of York."

"St. Mary!" said the abbot, crossing himself, "an unbelieving Jew, and admitted into this presence!"

"A dog Jew," echoed the Templar, "to approach a defender of the Holy Sepulchre!"

"Peace, my worthy guests," said Cedric; "my hospitality must not be bounded by your dislikes. Let him have a board and a morsel apart."

Introduced with little ceremony, and advancing with fear and hesitation, and many a bow of deep humility, a tall thin old man, with an aquiline nose and piercing black eyes, approached the lower end of the board. Cedric nodded coldly in answer to his repeated salutations, and signed to him to take a place at the lower end of the table, where, however, no one offered to make room for him.

A pilgrim, at length, who sat by the chimney, took compassion upon him, and resigned his seat, saying briefly, "Old man, my garments are dried, my hunger is appeased, thou art both wet and fasting." And, so saying, he placed some food before the Jew on the small table at which he had himself supped, and, without waiting for the old man's thanks, went to the other side of the hall.

As the feast proceeded, a discussion arose amongst the banqueters as to which knights had borne them best in Palestine among the champions of the Cross. De Bois-Guilbert seemed to speak slightingly of the English warriors, while giving the place of honour to the Knights of the Temple.

"The English chivalry were second to NONE" said the pilgrim, who had listened to this conversation with marked impatience. "SECOND to NONE, I say, who ever drew sword in defence of the 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 St. John-de- Acre, as challengers, and proved themselves superior to all comers."

The swarthy countenance of the Templar grew darker with a bitter scowl of rage as he listened to these words; but his angry confusion became only more marked as the pilgrim went on to give the names of the English knights who had so distinguished themselves. He paused as he came to the name of the sixth.

"His name dwells not in my memory," he said; "but he was a young knight of lesser renown and lower rank."

"Sir palmer," said Brian de Bois-Guilbert scornfully, "this assumed forgetfulness, after so much has been remembered, comes too late to serve your purpose. I will myself tell the name of the knight before whose lance I fell: it was the 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 he in England, I would gladly meet him in this week's tournament, mounted and armed as I now am."

"If Ivanhoe ever returns from Palestine I will be his surety that he meets you," replied the palmer.

Not long after, the grace-cup was served round, and the guests, after making deep obeisance to their landlord and the Lady Rowena, arose, and retired with their attendants for the night.

As the palmer was being guided to his chamber he was met by the waiting-maid of Rowena, who informed him that her mistress desired to speak with him.

A short passage and an ascent of some steps led him to the lady's apartment.

As the pilgrim entered she ordered her attendants, excepting only one, to retire.

"Pilgrim," said the lady, after a moment's pause, during which she seemed uncertain how to address him, "you this night mentioned a name--I mean the name of Ivanhoe--I would gladly hear news of him. Where and in what condition did you leave him?"

"I know little of the Knight of Ivanhoe," answered the palmer with a troubled voice. "He hath, I believe, surmounted the persecution of his enemies in Palestine, and is on the eve of returning to England."

The Lady Rowena sighed deeply.

"Would to God," she then said, "he were here safely arrived, and able to bear arms in the approaching tourney. Should Athelstane of Coningsburgh obtain the prize, Ivanhoe is like to hear evil tidings when he reaches England."

Finding that there was no further information to be obtained about the knight, in whose fate she seemed to take so deep an interest, she bade her maidens to offer the sleeping-cup to the holy man, and having presented him with a piece of gold, wished him good- night.

As the palmer was being conducted to his room he inquired of his attendant where Isaac the Jew was sleeping, and learned that he occupied the room next to his own.

As soon as it was dawn the pilgrim entered the small apartment where the Jew was still asleep. Stirring him with his pilgrim's staff, he told him that he should rise without delay, and leave the mansion. "When the Templar crossed the hall yesternight," he continued, "I heard him speak to his Mussulman slaves in the Saracen language, which I well understand, and he charged them to watch the journey of the Jew, to seize upon him when at a convenient distance from the mansion, and to conduct him to the castle of Philip de Malvoisin, or to that of Reginald Front-de- Boeuf."

It is impossible to describe the extremity of terror which seized upon the Jew at this information. He knew only too well of the relentless persecution to which his kindred were subjected at this period, and how, upon the slightest and most unreasonable pretences, their persons and their property were exposed to every turn of popular fury.

He rose, accordingly, in haste.

It was not, however, such an easy matter to make their exit from the mansion. Gurth, the swineherd, a servant of much importance at that time, when appealed to open the gate, refused to let the visitors out at such an unseasonable hour.

"Nevertheless," said the pilgrim, "you will not, I think, refuse _me_ that favour."

So saying, he whispered something in his ear in Saxon. Gurth started as if electrified, and hastened at once to procure their mules for the travellers, and to open the postern gate to let them out.

As the pilgrim mounted, he reached his hand to Gurth, who kissed it with the utmost possible veneration. The two travellers were soon lost under the boughs of the forest path.

They continued their journey at great speed; and the Jew noticed with amazement that the palmer appeared to be familiar with every path and outlet of the wood. When they had travelled some distance from Rotherwood, and were approaching the town of Sheffield, the Jew expressed a wish to recompense the palmer for the interest he had taken in his affairs.

"I desire no recompense," answered his fellow traveller.

"Yet I can tell thee something thou lackest," said Isaac, "and, it may be, supply it too. Thy wish even now is for a horse and armour."

The palmer started.

"What fiend prompted that guess?" said he hastily.

"Under that palmer's gown," replied the Jew, "is hidden a knight's chain and spurs of gold. I saw them as you stooped over my bed this morning."

Without waiting to hear his companion's reply, he wrote some words in Hebrew on a piece of paper, and handed it to the pilgrim, saying:

"In the town of Leicester all men know the rich Jew, Kirjath Jairam of Lombardy; give him this scroll, and he will give thee everything that can furnish thee forth for the tournament; when it is over thou wilt return them safely. But hark thee, good youth, thrust thyself not too forward in this vain hurly-burly. I speak not for endangering the steed and coat of armour, but for the sake of thine own life and limbs."

"Gramercy for thy caution," said the palmer, smiling; "I will use thy courtesy frankly--and it will go hard with me but I will requite it."

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

When the morning of the tournament arrived the field of contest at Ashby-de-la-Zouche presented a brilliant and romantic scene. On the verge of a wood was an extensive meadow, of the finest and most beautiful green turf, surrounded on one side by the forest, and fringed on the other by straggling oak-trees. The ground, as if fashioned on purpose for the martial display which was intended, sloped gradually down on all sides to a level bottom, which was enclosed for the lists with strong palisades. At each end of the enclosure two heralds were stationed, and a strong body of men-at-arms, for maintaining order and ascertaining the quality of the knights who proposed to engage in the contest.

On a platform beyond the southern entrance were pitched five magnificent pavilions, adorned with pennons of russet and black-- the chosen colours of the five knights challengers. That in the centre, as the place of honour, had been assigned to Brian de Bois-Guilbert, whose renown in all games of chivalry had occasioned him to be adopted as the chief and leader of the challengers.

Outside the lists were galleries, spread with tapestry and carpets, for the convenience of the ladies and nobles who were expected to attend the tournament. Another gallery raised higher than the rest, and opposite to the spot where the shock of combat was to take place, was decorated with much magnificence, and graced by a sort of throne and canopy, on which the royal arms were emblazoned. Squires, pages, and yeomen, in rich liveries, waited around the place of honour, which was designed for Prince John, the brother of the absent king, and his attendants. Opposite to this royal gallery was another, even more gaily decorated, reserved as the seat of honour for the Queen of Beauty and of Love. But who was to fill the place on the present occasion no one was prepared to guess.

Gradually the galleries became filled with knights, nobles and ladies, while the lower space was crowded with yeomen and burghers.

Amongst the latter was Isaac the Jew, richly and magnificently dressed, and accompanied by his daughter, the beautiful Rebecca, whose exquisite form, shown to advantage by a becoming Eastern dress, did not escape the quick eye of the prince himself, as he rode by at the head of his numerous and gaily-dressed train.

As the prince assumed his throne, he gave signal to the heralds to proclaim the laws of the tournament, which were briefly as follows:

First: The five challengers were to undertake all comers.

Secondly: Any knight might select any antagonist for combat by touching his shield. If he did so with the reverse of his lance, the trial of skill was made with what were called the arms of courtesy, that is, with lances at whose extremity a piece of round flat board was fixed, so that no danger was encountered, save from the shock of the horses and riders. But if the shield was touched with the sharp end of the lance, the knights were to fight as in actual battle.

Thirdly: The knight whom the prince should declare to be the victor was to receive as prize a war-horse of exquisite beauty and matchless strength, and in addition to this reward, he should have the peculiar honour of naming the Queen of Love and Beauty.

When the proclamation was made the heralds retired, and through the open barriers five knights advanced slowly into the arena. Approaching the challengers, each touched slightly, and with the reverse of his lance, the shield of the antagonist to whom he wished to oppose himself, and then retreated to the extremity of the lists, where all remained drawn up in a line.

At the flourish of clarions and trumpets they started out against each other at full gallop; and such was the superior skill or good fortune of the challengers, that those opposed to Bois-Guilbert, Malvoisin, and Front-de-Boeuf rolled on the ground. The antagonist of Grantmesnil broke his spear; while the fifth knight alone maintained the honour of his party.

A second and third party of knights took the field, and although they had various success, yet, upon the whole, the advantage decidedly remained with the challengers, not one of whom lost his seat. A fourth combat followed; and here, too, the challengers came off victorious.

Prince John now began to talk of awarding the prize to Brian de Bois-Guilbert, who had proved himself to be the best of the Norman knights; but his attention, and that of the other spectators, was arrested by the sound of a solitary trumpet, which breathed a note of defiance from the northern end of the enclosure.

All eyes were turned to see the new champion, and no sooner were the barriers opened than he paced into the lists. His suit of armour was formed of steel, richly inlaid with gold, and the device on his shield was a young oak-tree pulled up by the roots, with the word "Disinherited" inscribed upon it. Riding straight up to Brian de Bois-Guilbert, he struck with the sharp end of his spear the shield of the victorious Norman until it rang again. All stood astonished at his presumption, but none more than the redoubted knight whom he had thus defied to mortal combat.

When the two champions stood opposed to each other at the two extremities of the lists the public expectation was strained to highest pitch.

The trumpets had no sooner given the signal than the combatants vanished from their posts with the speed of lightning, and closed in the centre of the lists with the shock of a thunderbolt. The lances burst into shivers, both the knights being almost unhorsed. Retiring to the extremity of the lists, each received a fresh lance from the attendants; and again, amidst a breathless silence, they sprung from their stations, and closed in the centre of the open space, with the same speed, the same dexterity, the same violence, but not the same equal fortune, as before.

The Norman's spear, striking the centre of his antagonist's shield, went to shivers, and the Disinherited Knight reeled in his saddle. On the other hand, the unknown champion had aimed his spear's point at the helmet of his opponent. Fair and true he hit the Norman on the visor, and saddle, horse, and man rolled on the ground under a cloud of dust.

"We shall meet again, I trust," said the defeated champion, as he extricated himself from the stirrups and fallen steed.

"If we do not," said the Disinherited Knight, "the fault will not be mine. On foot or horseback, with spear, with axe, or with sword, I am alike ready to encounter thee."

Without alighting from his horse, the conqueror called for a bowl of wine, and, opening the beaver of his helmet, announced that he quaffed it "To all true English hearts, and to the confusion of foreign tyrants."

He then desired a herald to proclaim that he was willing to encounter the rest of the challengers in the order in which they pleased to advance against him.

The gigantic Front-de-Boeuf, armed in sable armour, was the first who took the field. But he was soon defeated.

Sir Philip Malvoisin next advanced; and against him the stranger was equally successful. De Grantmesnil soon after avowed himself vanquished; and Ralph de Vipont summed up the list of the stranger's triumphs, being hurled to the ground with such force that he was borne senseless from the lists.

The acclamations of thousands applauded the award of the prince, announcing that day's honours to the Disinherited Knight.

The marshal of the field now approached the victor, praying him to suffer his helmet to be unlaced, ere they conducted him to receive the prize of the day's tourney from the hands of Prince John. But the Disinherited Knight, with all courtesy, declined their request. The prince himself made many inquiries of those in his company about the unknown stranger; but none could guess who he might be. Someone suggested that it might, perhaps, be King Richard himself; and John turned deadly pale as he heard the words, for he had been plotting to seize the throne during his brother's absence.

The victorious knight received his prize, speaking not a word in reply to the complimentary expressions of the prince, which he only acknowledged with a low bow. Leaping into the saddle of the richly-accoutred steed which had been presented to him, he rode up to where the Lady Rowena was seated, and, heedless of the many Norman beauties who graced the contest with their presence, gracefully sinking the point of his lance he deposited the coronet which it supported at the feet of the fair Saxon. The trumpets instantly sounded, while the heralds proclaimed the Lady Rowena the Queen of Beauty and of Love for the ensuing day.

Soon after the vast multitude had retired from the deserted field and lights began to glimmer through the twilight, announcing the toil of the armourers, which was to continue through the whole night in order to repair or alter the suits of armour to be used again on the morrow.

The next day dawned in unclouded splendour, and at ten o'clock the whole plain was crowded with horsemen, horsewomen, and foot- passengers, hastening to the tournament; and shortly after a grand flourish of trumpets announced the arrival of Prince John and his gorgeous retinue.

About the same time arrived Cedric the Saxon with the Lady Rowena. He had been accompanied on the previous day by another noble Saxon, Athelstane, Lord of Coningsburgh, a suitor for the hand of Rowena, and one who considered his union with that lady as a matter already fixed beyond doubt, by the assent of Cedric and her other friends. Rowena herself, however, had never given her consent to such an alliance; and entertained but a poor opinion of her would-be lover, whose pretensions for her hand she had received with marked disdain. Her Saxon lover was not one of her party at the tourney on the second day. He had observed with displeasure that Rowena was selected by the victor on the preceding day as the object of that honour which it became his privilege to confer, and Athelstane, confident of his own strength and skill, had himself donned his armour with a determination to make his rival feel the weight of his battle-axe.

The combat on the second day of the tournament was on a much more extended scale than that of the previous one; and when the signal for battle was given some fifty knights, at the same moment, charged wildly at each other in the lists. The champions encountered each other with the utmost fury, and with alternate success; the tide of battle seeming to flow now toward the southern, now toward the northern extremity of the lists as the one or the other party prevailed. The clang of the blows, and the shouts of the combatants, mixed fearfully with the sound of the trumpets, and drowned the groans of those who fell, and lay rolling beneath the feet of the horses. The splendid armour of the knights was now defaced with dust and blood, and gave way at every stroke of the sword and battle-axe; while the gay plumage, shorn from the crests, drifted upon the breeze like snowflakes.

In the thick of the press and turmoil of the fight Bois-Guilbert and the Disinherited Knight repeatedly endeavoured to single out each other, spurred by mutual animosity. Such, however, was the crowd and confusion that, during the earlier part of the conflict, their efforts to meet were unavailing. But when the field became thin, by the numbers on either side who had yielded themselves vanquished or had been rendered incapable of continuing the strife, the Templar and the unknown knight at length encountered, hand to hand, with all the fury that mortal animosity, joined to rivalry of honour, could inspire. Such was the skill of each in parrying and striking that the spectators broke forth into a unanimous and involuntary shout of delight and admiration.

But at this moment the party of the Disinherited Knight had the worst. Front-de-Boeuf and Athelstane, having defeated those immediately opposed to them, were now free to come to the aid of their friend the Templar; and, turning their horses at the same moment, the two spurred against the Disinherited Knight.

This champion, exposed as he was to the furious assaults of three opponents each of whom was almost a match for him single-handed, must now have soon been overpowered when an unexpected incident changed the fortunes of the day.

Amongst the ranks of the Disinherited Knight was a champion in black armour, mounted on a black horse, whose shield bore no device of any kind. He had engaged with some few combatants, and had easily defeated them during the earlier stages of the contest, but seemed to take no further interest in the event of the fight, acting the part rather of a spectator than of a party in the tournament.

The moment, however, he saw his leader so hard bestead he seemed to throw aside his apathy, and setting spurs to his horse he came to his assistance like a thunderbolt, exclaiming, in a voice like a trumpet call, "Disinherited to the rescue!"

Under the fury of his first stroke, Front-de-Boeuf, horse and all, rolled stunned to the ground. He then turned his steed upon Athelstane, and, wrenching from the hand of the bulky Saxon the battle-axe which he wielded, bestowed him such a blow upon the crest, that the Lord of Coningsburgh also lay senseless on the field. Having achieved this double feat, he returned calmly to the extremity of the lists, leaving his leader to cope as best he could with Brian de Bois-Guilbert. This was no longer matter of so much difficulty as formerly. The Templar's horse had bled much, and gave way under the shock of the Disinherited Knight's charge. As Bois-Guilbert rolled on the field, his antagonist sprung from horseback, and was in the act of commanding his adversary to yield or die, when Prince John gave the signal that the conflict was at an end.

It being now the duty of the prince to name the knight who had done best, he determined, although contrary to the advice of those about him, that the honour of the day remained with the Black Knight.

To the surprise of all present, however, the knight thus preferred was nowhere to be found. He had left the lists immediately when the conflict ceased, and had been observed by some spectators to move slowly down one of the forest glades. After he had been summoned twice by sound of trumpet, it became necessary to name another; and the Disinherited Knight was for the second time named champion of the day.

As the victor was led towards the throne of the Lady Rowena, it was observed that he tottered. Rowena was about to place the chaplet which she held in her hand upon the helmet of the champion who kneeled before her, when the marshals exclaimed, "It must not be thus, his head must be bare;" and at once removed his helmet. The features which were exposed were those of a young man of twenty-five; but his countenance was as pale as death, and marked in one or two places with streaks of blood.

Rowena had no sooner beheld him than she uttered a faint shriek; but at once summoning up all her energies, she placed upon the drooping head of the victor the splendid chaplet which was the destined reward of the day.

The knight bent low, and kissed the hand of the lovely Sovereign by whom his valour had been rewarded; and then, sinking yet farther forward, lay prostrate at her feet.

There was a general consternation. Cedric, who had been struck mute by the sudden appearance of his banished son, now rushed forward, as if to separate him from Rowena. But this had been already accomplished by the marshals of the field, who, guessing the cause of Ivanhoe's swoon, had hastened to undo his armour, and found that the head of a lance had penetrated his breast-plate and inflicted a wound in his side.

The name of Ivanhoe was no sooner pronounced than it flew from mouth to mouth throughout the vast assembly. It was not long ere it reached the circle of the prince, whose brow darkened as he heard the news. He knew that Ivanhoe had been a close attendant on his brother King Richard in the Holy Land; and as such he looked upon him as his own enemy. He was about to give the signal for retiring from the lists, when a small billet was put into his hand. He broke the seal with apparent agitation, and read the words, "Take heed to yourself, for the devil is unchained."

He turned as pale as death; and taking two of his courtiers aside, he put the billet into their hands. "It means," he said in a faltering voice, "that my brother Richard has obtained his freedom."

"It is time, then," said Fitzurse, his confidential attendant, "to draw our party to a head, and prepare our forces to meet him."

In sullen ill-humour the prince left the place of tournament to hold high festival at the Castle of Ashby; but it was more than his courtiers could do to rouse him from the overpowering gloom which seemed to agitate his mind throughout the evening. On the next day it was settled that the prince and all those who were ready to support him should attend a meeting at York for the purpose of making general arrangements for placing the crown upon the head of the usurper, and ousting King Richard from his sovereign rights.

Meanwhile, Cedric the Saxon, when he saw his son drop down senseless in the lists at Ashby, had given orders, half in pity, half in anger, to his attendants to convey Ivanhoe to a place where his wound might be dressed as soon as the crowd had dispersed. The attendants were, however, anticipated in this good office. The crowd dispersed, indeed, but the knight was nowhere to be seen. The only information which could be collected from the bystanders was, that he had been raised with care by certain well- attired grooms, and placed in a litter belonging to a lady among the spectators, in which he had immediately been transported out of the press.

Cedric and his friends, having seen the last of the tournament and the festivities which followed it, now set out on their return to Rotherwood. Their way lay through a thickly-wooded country, which was at the time held to be dangerous to travellers from the number of outlaws whom oppression and poverty had driven to despair, and who occupied the forests in large bands. From these rovers, however, Cedric and Athelstane accounted themselves secure, as they had in attendance ten servants. They knew, besides, that the outlaws were chiefly peasants and yeomen of Saxon descent, and were generally supposed to respect the persons and property of their countrymen.

As the travellers journeyed on their way, they were alarmed by repeated cries for assistance; and when they rode up to the place from whence they came, they were surprised to find a horse-litter placed upon the ground, beside which sat a young woman, richly dressed in the Jewish fashion, while an old man, whose yellow cap proclaimed him to belong to the same nation, walked up and down, wringing his hands, as if affected by some strange disaster.

It was some time before Isaac of York, for it was he, could explain the nature of his trouble. When at length he began to come to himself out of his agony of terror, he said that he had hired a body-guard of six men at Ashby, together with mules for carrying the litter of a sick friend; but that they all had fled away from him, having heard that there was a strong band of outlaws lying in wait in the woods before them. When he implored permission to continue his journey under the protection of Cedric and his party, Athelstane was strongly opposed to allowing the "dog of a Jew," as he called him, to travel in their company. The Lady Rowena, however, had at the same time been approached by the old man's daughter, who, kissing the hem of her garment, implored her to have compassion on them. "It is not for myself that I pray this favour," said Rebecca; "nor is it even for that poor old man; but it is in the name of one dear to many, and dear even to you, that I beseech you to let this sick person be transported with care and tenderness under your protection."

So noble and solemn was the air with which Rebecca made this appeal, that on the intercession of Rowena Cedric readily consented to allow the Jew and his daughter, together with their sick friend, to attach themselves to his party.

Twilight was already coming on as the company proceeded on their journey. The path upon which the party travelled was now so narrow as not to admit above two riders abreast. They accordingly quickened their pace, in order to get as rapidly as possible out of the dangerous neighborhood which they were traversing. They had just crossed a' brook, whose banks were broken, swampy, and overgrown with dwarf willows, when they were assailed in front, flank and rear by a large body of men in the dress of outlaws, and with an impetuosity to which, in their confused and ill-prepared condition, it was impossible to offer effectual resistance. Both the Saxon chiefs were made prisoners at the same moment, while the attendants, embarrassed with baggage, surprised and terrified at the fate of their masters, fell an easy prey to the assailants; and the Lady Rowena, the Jew and his daughter experienced the same misfortune. Wamba, the jester, alone escaped, showing upon the occasion much more courage than those who pretended to greater sense. As he wandered through the forest, a dog, which he recognised, jumped up and fawned upon him, and Gurth, the swineherd, shortly after made his appearance. He was horrified to hear from his fellow-servant of the misfortune which had befallen their master and his party; and the two were about to hasten away for the purpose of procuring aid, when a third person suddenly appeared, and commanded them both to halt. Notwithstanding the twilight, and although his dress and arms showed him to be an outlaw, Wamba recognised him to be Locksley, the yeoman, a man who had carried off the prize for archery at the tournament a day or two before.

"What is the meaning of all this," he said; "or who is it that rifle and ransom and make prisoners in these forests?"

The yeoman then left, bidding Gurth and Wamba, on the peril of their lives, not to stir until he returned.

He was not long away, and on returning said that he had found out who the attacking party were and whither they were bound.

"Cedric the Saxon," he said, "the friend of the rights of Englishmen, shall not want English hands to help him in this extremity. Come, then, with me, until I gather more aid."

So saying, he walked through the wood at a great pace, followed by the jester and the swineherd.

It was after three hours' good walking that the servants of Cedric, with their mysterious guide, arrived at a small opening in the forest. Beneath an enormous oak-tree several yeomen lay stretched on the ground, while another, as sentinel, walked to and fro in the moonlight shade. Locksley, on being recognised, was welcomed with every token of respect and attachment; and he at once gave orders to collect what force they could.

"A set of gallants," he said, "who have been masquerading in such guise as our own, are carrying a band of prisoners to Torquilstone, the castle of Front-de-Boeuf. Our honour is concerned to punish them, and we will find means to do so."

In the meantime Cedric and the other prisoners had been hurried along by Bois-Guilbert and De Bracy, and safely lodged in the strong and ancient castle of Reginald Front-de-Boeuf. Once within the castle, the prisoners were separated. Cedric and Athelstane were confined in one apartment, the Lady Rowena in another, while the poor Jew was hastily thrust into a dungeon-vault, the floor of which was deep beneath the level of the ground, and his daughter Rebecca was locked into a cell in a distant and sequestered turret.

The dungeon occupied by Isaac of York was dark and damp. Chains and shackles, which had been the portion of former captives, hung rusted on the gloomy walls, and in the rings of one of those sets of fetters there remained the mouldering bones of some unhappy prisoner who had been left to perish there in other days. At one end of this ghastly apartment was a large fire-grate, over the top of which were stretched some transverse bars of iron, half devoured with rust.

For nearly three hours the wretched Jew remained sitting in a corner of his dungeon, when steps were heard on the stair by which it was approached. The bolts were withdrawn, the hinges creaked as the wicket opened, and Reginald Front-de-Boeuf, followed by two Saracen slaves of the Templar, entered the prison.

"Most cursed dog of an accursed race!" he said to Isaac, "see'st thou these scales? In these shalt thou weigh me out a thousand silver pounds."

"Holy Abraham!" returned the Jew, "heard man ever such a demand? Not within the walls of York, ransack my house and that of all my tribe, wilt thou find the tithe of that huge sum of silver."

"Prepare, then," said the Norman, "for a long and lingering death."

And he ordered the slave to make ready the fire.

"See'st thou, Isaac," he said, "the range of bars above that glowing charcoal? On that warm couch shalt thou lie, stripped of thy clothes. One of these slaves shall maintain the fire beneath thee, while another shall anoint thy wretched limbs with oil, lest the roast should burn. Now, choose between such a scorching bed and the payment of a thousand pounds of silver; for, by the head of my father, thou hast no other option."

"So may Abraham, Jacob, and all the fathers of our people assist me," said Isaac; "I cannot make the choice, because I have not the means of satisfying your exorbitant demand."

"Seize him, and strip him, slaves!" said the knight, "and let the fathers of his race assist him if they can."

The assistants stepped forward, and laying hands on the unfortunate man, waited the hardhearted baron's further signal.