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

so devoutly but what thy thirty

zecchins may yet escape, if thou deal uprightly with us.

Meantime render up thy trust for a time.” So saying, he took

from Gurth’s breast the large leathern pouch, in which the purse

given him by Rebecca was enclosed, as well as the rest of the

zecchins, and then continued his interrogation.---“Who is thy

master?”

“The Disinherited Knight,” said Gurth.

“Whose good lance,” replied the robber, “won the prize in

to-day’s tourney? What is his name and lineage?”

“It is his pleasure,” answered Gurth, “that they be concealed;

and from me, assuredly, you will learn nought of them.”

“What is thine own name and lineage?”

“To tell that,” said Gurth, “might reveal my master’s.”

“Thou art a saucy groom,” said the robber, “but of that anon.

How comes thy master by this gold? is it of his inheritance, or

by what means hath it accrued to him?”

“By his good lance,” answered Gurth.---“These bags contain the

ransom of four good horses, and four good suits of armour.”

“How much is there?” demanded the robber.

“Two hundred zecchins.”

“Only two hundred zecchins!” said the bandit; “your master hath

dealt liberally by the vanquished, and put them to a cheap

ransom. Name those who paid the gold.”

Gurth did so.

“The armour and horse of the Templar Brian de Bois-Guilbert, at

what ransom were they held?---Thou seest thou canst not deceive

me.”

“My master,” replied Gurth, “will take nought from the Templar

save his life’s-blood. They are on terms of mortal defiance, and

cannot hold courteous intercourse together.”

“Indeed!”---repeated the robber, and paused after he had said the

word. “And what wert thou now doing at Ashby with such a charge

in thy custody?”

“I went thither to render to Isaac the Jew of York,” replied

Gurth, “the price of a suit of armour with which he fitted my

master for this tournament.”

“And how much didst thou pay to Isaac?---Methinks, to judge by

weight, there is still two hundred zecchins in this pouch.”

“I paid to Isaac,” said the Saxon, “eighty zecchins, and he

restored me a hundred in lieu thereof.”

“How! what!” exclaimed all the robbers at once; “darest thou

trifle with us, that thou tellest such improbable lies?”

“What I tell you,” said Gurth, “is as true as the moon is in

heaven. You will find the just sum in a silken purse within

the leathern pouch, and separate from the rest of the gold.”

“Bethink thee, man,” said the Captain, “thou speakest of a Jew

---of an Israelite,---as unapt to restore gold, as the dry sand

of his deserts to return the cup of water which the pilgrim

spills upon them.”

“There is no more mercy in them,” said another of the banditti,

“than in an unbribed sheriffs officer.”

“It is, however, as I say,” said Gurth.

“Strike a light instantly,” said the Captain; “I will examine

this said purse; and if it be as this fellow says, the Jew’s

bounty is little less miraculous than the stream which relieved

his fathers in the wilderness.”

A light was procured accordingly, and the robber proceeded to

examine the purse. The others crowded around him, and even two

who had hold of Gurth relaxed their grasp while they stretched

their necks to see the issue of the search. Availing himself of

their negligence, by a sudden exertion of strength and activity,

Gurth shook himself free of their hold, and might have escaped,

could he have resolved to leave his master’s property behind him.

But such was no part of his intention. He wrenched a

quarter-staff from one of the fellows, struck down the Captain,

who was altogether unaware of his purpose, and had well-nigh

repossessed himself of the pouch and treasure. The thieves,

however, were too nimble for him, and again secured both the bag

and the trusty Gurth.

“Knave!” said the Captain, getting up, “thou hast broken my head;

and with other men of our sort thou wouldst fare the worse for

thy insolence. But thou shalt know thy fate instantly. First

let us speak of thy master; the knight’s matters must go before

the squire’s, according to the due order of chivalry. Stand thou

fast in the meantime---if thou stir again, thou shalt have that

will make thee quiet for thy life---Comrades!” he then said,

addressing his gang, “this purse is embroidered with Hebrew

characters, and I well believe the yeoman’s tale is true. The

errant knight, his master, must needs pass us toll-free. He is

too like ourselves for us to make booty of him, since dogs should

not worry dogs where wolves and foxes are to be found in

abundance.”

“Like us?” answered one of the gang; “I should like to hear how

that is made good.”

“Why, thou fool,” answered the Captain, “is he not poor and

disinherited as we are?---Doth he not win his substance at the

sword’s point as we do?---Hath he not beaten Front-de-Boeuf and

Malvoisin, even as we would beat them if we could? Is he not the

enemy to life and death of Brian de Bois-Guilbert, whom we have

so much reason to fear? And were all this otherwise, wouldst

thou have us show a worse conscience than an unbeliever, a Hebrew

Jew?”

“Nay, that were a shame,” muttered the other fellow; “and yet,

when I served in the band of stout old Gandelyn, we had no such

scruples of conscience. And this insolent peasant,---he too, I

warrant me, is to be dismissed scatheless?”

“Not if THOU canst scathe him,” replied the Captain.---“Here,

fellow,” continued he, addressing Gurth, “canst thou use the

staff, that thou starts to it so readily?”

“I think,” said Gurth, “thou shouldst be best able to reply to

that question.”

“Nay, by my troth, thou gavest me a round knock,” replied the

Captain; “do as much for this fellow, and thou shalt pass

scot-free; and if thou dost not---why, by my faith, as thou art

such a sturdy knave, I think I must pay thy ransom myself.---Take

thy staff, Miller,” he added, “and keep thy head; and do you

others let the fellow go, and give him a staff---there is light

enough to lay on load by.”

The two champions being alike armed with quarter-staves, stepped

forward into the centre of the open space, in order to have the

full benefit of the moonlight; the thieves in the meantime

laughing, and crying to their comrade, “Miller! beware thy

toll-dish.” The Miller, on the other hand, holding his

quarter-staff by the middle, and making it flourish round his

head after the fashion which the French call “faire le moulinet”,

exclaimed boastfully, “Come on, churl, an thou darest: thou shalt

feel the strength of a miller’s thumb!”

“If thou be’st a miller,” answered Gurth, undauntedly, making his

weapon play around his head with equal dexterity, “thou art

doubly a thief, and I, as a true man, bid thee defiance.”

So saying, the two champions closed together, and for a few

minutes they displayed great equality in strength, courage, and

skill, intercepting and returning the blows of their adversary

with the most rapid dexterity, while, from the continued clatter

of their weapons, a person at a distance might have supposed that

there were at least six persons engaged on each side. Less

obstinate, and even less dangerous combats, have been described

in good heroic verse; but that of Gurth and the Miller must

remain unsung, for want of a sacred poet to do justice to its

eventful progress. Yet, though quarter-staff play be out of

date, what we can in prose we will do for these bold champions.

Long they fought equally, until the Miller began to lose temper

at finding himself so stoutly opposed, and at hearing the

laughter of his companions, who, as usual in such cases, enjoyed

his vexation. This was not a state of mind favourable to the

noble game of quarter-staff, in which, as in ordinary

cudgel-playing, the utmost coolness is requisite; and it gave

Gurth, whose temper was steady, though surly, the opportunity of

acquiring a decided advantage, in availing himself of which he

displayed great mastery.

The Miller pressed furiously forward, dealing blows with either

end of his weapon alternately, and striving to come to half-staff

distance, while Gurth defended himself against the attack,

keeping his hands about a yard asunder, and covering himself by

shifting his weapon with great celerity, so as to protect his

head and body. Thus did he maintain the defensive, making his

eye, foot, and hand keep true time, until, observing his

antagonist to lose wind, he darted the staff at his face with his

left hand; and, as the Miller endeavoured to parry the thrust, he

slid his right hand down to his left, and with the full swing of

the weapon struck his opponent on the left side of the head, who

instantly measured his length upon the green sward.

“Well and yeomanly done!” shouted the robbers; “fair play and Old

England for ever! The Saxon hath saved both his purse and his

hide, and the Miller has met his match.”

“Thou mayst go thy ways, my friend,” said the Captain, addressing

Gurth, in special confirmation of the general voice, “and I will

cause two of my comrades to guide thee by the best way to thy

master’s pavilion, and to guard thee from night-walkers that

might have less tender consciences than ours; for there is many

one of them upon the amble in such a night as this. Take heed,

however,” he added sternly; “remember thou hast refused to tell

thy name---ask not after ours, nor endeavour to discover who or

what we are; for, if thou makest such an attempt, thou wilt come

by worse fortune than has yet befallen thee.”

Gurth thanked the Captain for his courtesy, and promised to

attend to his recommendation. Two of the outlaws, taking up

their quarter-staves, and desiring Gurth to follow close in the

rear, walked roundly forward along a by-path, which traversed the

thicket and the broken ground adjacent to it. On the very verge

of the thicket two men spoke to his conductors, and receiving an

answer in a whisper, withdrew into the wood, and suffered them to

pass unmolested. This circumstance induced Gurth to believe both

that the gang was strong in numbers, and that they kept regular

guards around their place of rendezvous.

When they arrived on the open heath, where Gurth might have had

some trouble in finding his road, the thieves guided him straight

forward to the top of a little eminence, whence he could see,

spread beneath him in the moonlight, the palisades of the lists,

the glimmering pavilions pitched at either end, with the pennons

which adorned them fluttering in the moonbeams, and from which

could be heard the hum of the song with which the sentinels were

beguiling their night-watch.

Here the thieves stopt.

“We go with you no farther,” said they; “it were not safe that we

should do so.---Remember the warning you have received---keep

secret what has this night befallen you, and you will have no

room to repent it---neglect what is now told you, and the Tower

of London shall not protect you against our revenge.”

“Good night to you, kind sirs,” said Gurth; “I shall remember

your orders, and trust that there is no offence in wishing you a

safer and an honester trade.”

Thus they parted, the outlaws returning in the direction from

whence they had come, and Gurth proceeding to the tent of his

master, to whom, notwithstanding the injunction he had

received, he communicated the whole adventures of the evening.

The Disinherited Knight was filled with astonishment, no less at

the generosity of Rebecca, by which, however, he resolved he

would