Ivanhoe by Walter Scott (world best books to read .TXT) 📖

to hang almost perpendicularly by his side.

Behind his seat was hung a scarlet cloth cloak lined with fur,

and a cap of the same materials richly embroidered, which

completed the dress of the opulent landholder when he chose to go

forth. A short boar-spear, with a broad and bright steel head,

also reclined against the back of his chair, which served him,

when he walked abroad, for the purposes of a staff or of a

weapon, as chance might require.

Several domestics, whose dress held various proportions betwixt

the richness of their master’s, and the coarse and simple attire

of Gurth the swine-herd, watched the looks and waited the

commands of the Saxon dignitary. Two or three servants of a

superior order stood behind their master upon the dais; the rest

occupied the lower part of the hall. Other attendants there were

of a different description; two or three large and shaggy

greyhounds, such as were then employed in hunting the stag and

wolf; as many slow-hounds of a large bony breed, with thick

necks, large heads, and long ears; and one or two of the smaller

dogs, now called terriers, which waited with impatience the

arrival of the supper; but, with the sagacious knowledge of

physiognomy peculiar to their race, forbore to intrude upon the

moody silence of their master, apprehensive probably of a small

white truncheon which lay by Cedric’s trencher, for the purpose

of repelling the advances of his four-legged dependants. One

grisly old wolf-dog alone, with the liberty of an indulged

favourite, had planted himself close by the chair of state, and

occasionally ventured to solicit notice by putting his large

hairy head upon his master’s knee, or pushing his nose into his

hand. Even he was repelled by the stern command, “Down, Balder,

down! I am not in the humour for foolery.”

In fact, Cedric, as we have observed, was in no very placid state

of mind. The Lady Rowena, who had been absent to attend an

evening mass at a distant church, had but just returned, and was

changing her garments, which had been wetted by the storm. There

were as yet no tidings of Gurth and his charge, which should long

since have been driven home from the forest and such was the

insecurity of the period, as to render it probable that the delay

might be explained by some depreciation of the outlaws, with whom

the adjacent forest abounded, or by the violence of some

neighbouring baron, whose consciousness of strength made him

equally negligent of the laws of property. The matter was of

consequence, for great part of the domestic wealth of the Saxon

proprietors consisted in numerous herds of swine, especially in

forest-land, where those animals easily found their food.

Besides these subjects of anxiety, the Saxon thane was impatient

for the presence of his favourite clown Wamba, whose jests, such

as they were, served for a sort of seasoning to his evening meal,

and to the deep draughts of ale and wine with which he was in the

habit of accompanying it. Add to all this, Cedric had fasted

since noon, and his usual supper hour was long past, a cause of

irritation common to country squires, both in ancient and modern

times. His displeasure was expressed in broken sentences, partly

muttered to himself, partly addressed to the domestics who stood

around; and particularly to his cupbearer, who offered him from

time to time, as a sedative, a silver goblet filled with wine

---“Why tarries the Lady Rowena?”

“She is but changing her head-gear,” replied a female attendant,

with as much confidence as the favourite lady’s-maid usually

answers the master of a modern family; “you would not wish her to

sit down to the banquet in her hood and kirtle? and no lady

within the shire can be quicker in arraying herself than my

mistress.”

This undeniable argument produced a sort of acquiescent umph! on

the part of the Saxon, with the addition, “I wish her devotion

may choose fair weather for the next visit to St John’s Kirk;

---but what, in the name of ten devils,” continued he, turning to

the cupbearer, and raising his voice as if happy to have found a

channel into which he might divert his indignation without fear

or control---“what, in the name of ten devils, keeps Gurth so

long afield? I suppose we shall have an evil account of the herd;

he was wont to be a faithful and cautious drudge, and I had

destined him for something better; perchance I might even have

made him one of my warders.”*

The original has “Cnichts”, by which the Saxons seem to have designated a class of military attendants, sometimes free, sometimes bondsmen, but always ranking above an ordinary domestic, whether in the royal household or in those of the aldermen and thanes. But the term cnicht, now spelt knight, having been received into the English language as equivalent to the Norman word chevalier, I have avoided using it in its more ancient sense, to prevent confusion. L. T.

Oswald the cupbearer modestly suggested, “that it was scarce an

hour since the tolling of the curfew;” an ill-chosen apology,

since it turned upon a topic so harsh to Saxon ears.

“The foul fiend,” exclaimed Cedric, “take the curfew-bell, and

the tyrannical bastard by whom it was devised, and the heartless

slave who names it with a Saxon tongue to a Saxon ear! The

curfew!” he added, pausing, “ay, the curfew; which compels true

men to extinguish their lights, that thieves and robbers may work

their deeds in darkness!--- Ay, the curfew;---Reginald

Front-de-Boeuf and Philip de Malvoisin know the use of the curfew

as well as William the Bastard himself, or e’er a Norman

adventurer that fought at Hastings. I shall hear, I guess, that

my property has been swept off to save from starving the hungry

banditti, whom they cannot support but by theft and robbery. My

faithful slave is murdered, and my goods are taken for a prey

—and Wamba---where is Wamba? Said not some one he had gone forth

with Gurth?”

Oswald replied in the affirmative.

“Ay? why this is better and better! he is carried off too, the

Saxon fool, to serve the Norman lord. Fools are we all indeed

that serve them, and fitter subjects for their scorn and

laughter, than if we were born with but half our wits. But I

will be avenged,” he added, starting from his chair in impatience

at the supposed injury, and catching hold of his boar-spear; “I

will go with my complaint to the great council; I have friends,

I have followers---man to man will I appeal the Norman to the

lists; let him come in his plate and his mail, and all that can

render cowardice bold; I have sent such a javelin as this through

a stronger fence than three of their war shields!---Haply they

think me old; but they shall find, alone and childless as I am,

the blood of Hereward is in the veins of Cedric.---Ah, Wilfred,

Wilfred!” he exclaimed in a lower tone, “couldst thou have ruled

thine unreasonable passion, thy father had not been left in his

age like the solitary oak that throws out its shattered and

unprotected branches against the full sweep of the tempest!” The

reflection seemed to conjure into sadness his irritated feelings.

Replacing his javelin, he resumed his seat, bent his looks

downward, and appeared to be absorbed in melancholy reflection.

From his musing, Cedric was suddenly awakened by the blast of a

horn, which was replied to by the clamorous yells and barking of

all the dogs in the hall, and some twenty or thirty which were

quartered in other parts of the building. It cost some exercise

of the white truncheon, well seconded by the exertions of the

domestics, to silence this canine clamour.

“To the gate, knaves!” said the Saxon, hastily, as soon as the

tumult was so much appeased that the dependants could hear his

voice. “See what tidings that horn tells us of---to announce, I

ween, some hership*

Pillage.

and robbery which has been done upon my lands.”

Returning in less than three minutes, a warder announced “that

the Prior Aymer of Jorvaulx, and the good knight Brian de

Bois-Guilbert, commander of the valiant and venerable 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, on the second day

from the present.”

“Aymer, the Prior Aymer? Brian de Bois-Guilbert?”---muttered

Cedric; “Normans both;---but Norman or Saxon, the hospitality of

Rotherwood must not be impeached; they are welcome, since they

have chosen to halt---more welcome would they have been to have

ridden further on their way---But it were unworthy to murmur for

a night’s lodging and a night’s food; in the quality of guests,

at least, even Normans must suppress their insolence.---Go,

Hundebert,” he added, to a sort of major-domo who stood behind

him with a white wand; “take six of the attendants, and introduce

the strangers to the guests’ lodging. Look after their horses

and mules, and see their train lack nothing. Let them have

change of vestments if they require it, and fire, and water to

wash, and wine and ale; and bid the cooks add what they hastily

can to our evening meal; and let it be put on the board when

those strangers are ready to share it. Say to them, Hundebert,

that Cedric would himself bid them welcome, but he is under a vow

never to step more than three steps from the dais of his own hall

to meet any who shares not the blood of Saxon royalty. Begone!

see them carefully tended; let them not say in their pride, the

Saxon churl has shown at once his poverty and his avarice.”

The major-domo departed with several attendants, to execute his

master’s commands.

“The Prior Aymer!” repeated Cedric, looking to Oswald, “the

brother, if I mistake not, of Giles de Mauleverer, now lord of

Middleham?”

Oswald made a respectful sign of assent. “His brother sits in

the seat, and usurps the patrimony, of a better race, the race of

Ulfgar of Middleham; but what Norman lord doth not the same? This

Prior is, they say, a free and jovial priest, who loves the

wine-cup and the bugle-horn better than bell and book: Good; let

him come, he shall be welcome. How named ye the Templar?”

“Brian de Bois-Guilbert.”

“Bois-Guilbert,” said Cedric, still in the musing, half-arguing

tone, which the habit of living among dependants had accustomed

him to employ, and which resembled a man who talks to himself

rather than to those around him---“Bois-Guilbert? that name has

been spread wide both for good and evil. They say he is valiant

as the bravest of his order; but stained with their usual vices,

pride, arrogance, cruelty, and voluptuousness; a hard-hearted

man, who knows neither fear of earth, nor awe of heaven. So say

the few warriors who have returned from Palestine.---Well; it is

but for one night; he shall be welcome too.---Oswald, broach the

oldest wine-cask; place the best mead, the mightiest ale, the

richest morat, the most sparkling cider, the most odoriferous

pigments, upon the board; fill the largest horns*

These were drinks used by the Saxons, as we are informed by Mr Turner: Morat was made of honey flavoured with the juice of mulberries; Pigment was a sweet and rich liquor, composed of wine highly spiced, and sweetened also with honey; the other liquors need no explanation. L. T.

---Templars and Abbots love good wines and good measure.

---Elgitha, let thy Lady Rowena, know we shall not this night

expect her in the hall, unless such be her especial pleasure.”

“But it will