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

>expect as the conclusion of the violence which hath dragged me

hither! Is it my life they seek, to atone for my religion? I

will lay it down cheerfully.”

“Thy life, minion?” answered the sibyl; “what would taking thy

life pleasure them?---Trust me, thy life is in no peril. Such

usage shalt thou have as was once thought good enough for a

noble Saxon maiden. And shall a Jewess, like thee, repine

because she hath no better? Look at me---I was as young and

twice as fair as thou, when Front-de-Boeuf, father of this

Reginald, and his Normans, stormed this castle. My father and

his seven sons defended their inheritance from story to story,

from chamber to chamber---There was not a room, not a step of the

stair, that was not slippery with their blood. They died---they

died every man; and ere their bodies were cold, and ere their

blood was dried, I had become the prey and the scorn of the

conqueror!”

“Is there no help?---Are there no means of escape?” said Rebecca

---“Richly, richly would I requite thine aid.”

“Think not of it,” said the hag; “from hence there is no escape

but through the gates of death; and it is late, late,” she added,

shaking her grey head, “ere these open to us---Yet it is comfort

to think that we leave behind us on earth those who shall be

wretched as ourselves. Fare thee well, Jewess!---Jew or Gentile,

thy fate would be the same; for thou hast to do with them that

have neither scruple nor pity. Fare thee well, I say. My thread

is spun out---thy task is yet to begin.”

“Stay! stay! for Heaven’s sake!” said Rebecca; “stay, though it

be to curse and to revile me ---thy presence is yet some

protection.”

“The presence of the mother of God were no protection,” answered

the old woman. “There she stands,” pointing to a rude image of

the Virgin Mary, “see if she can avert the fate that awaits

thee.”

She left the room as she spoke, her features writhed into a sort

of sneering laugh, which made them seem even more hideous than

their habitual frown. She locked the door behind her, and

Rebecca might hear her curse every step for its steepness, as

slowly and with difficulty she descended the turret-stair.

Rebecca was now to expect a fate even more dreadful than that of

Rowena; for what probability was there that either softness or

ceremony would be used towards one of her oppressed race,

whatever shadow of these might be preserved towards a Saxon

heiress? Yet had the Jewess this advantage, that she was better

prepared by habits of thought, and by natural strength of mind,

to encounter the dangers to which she was exposed. Of a strong

and observing character, even from her earliest years, the pomp

and wealth which her father displayed within his walls, or which

she witnessed in the houses of other wealthy Hebrews, had not

been able to blind her to the precarious circumstances under

which they were enjoyed. Like Damocles at his celebrated

banquet, Rebecca perpetually beheld, amid that gorgeous display,

the sword which was suspended over the heads of her people by a

single hair. These reflections had tamed and brought down to a

pitch of sounder judgment a temper, which, under other

circumstances, might have waxed haughty, supercilious, and

obstinate.

From her father’s example and injunctions, Rebecca had learnt to

bear herself courteously towards all who approached her. She

could not indeed imitate his excess of subservience, because she

was a stranger to the meanness of mind, and to the constant state

of timid apprehension, by which it was dictated; but she bore

herself with a proud humility, as if submitting to the evil

circumstances in which she was placed as the daughter of a

despised race, while she felt in her mind the consciousness that

she was entitled to hold a higher rank from her merit, than the

arbitrary despotism of religious prejudice permitted her to

aspire to.

Thus prepared to expect adverse circumstances, she had acquired

the firmness necessary for acting under them. Her present

situation required all her presence of mind, and she summoned it

up accordingly.

Her first care was to inspect the apartment; but it afforded few

hopes either of escape or protection. It contained neither

secret passage nor trap-door, and unless where the door by which

she had entered joined the main building, seemed to be

circumscribed by the round exterior wall of the turret. The door

had no inside bolt or bar. The single window opened upon an

embattled space surmounting the turret, which gave Rebecca, at

first sight, some hopes of escaping; but she soon found it had no

communication with any other part of the battlements, being an

isolated bartisan, or balcony, secured, as usual, by a parapet,

with embrasures, at which a few archers might be stationed for

defending the turret, and flanking with their shot the wall of

the castle on that side.

There was therefore no hope but in passive fortitude, and in that

strong reliance on Heaven natural to great and generous

characters. Rebecca, however erroneously taught to interpret the

promises of Scripture to the chosen people of Heaven, did not err

in supposing the present to be their hour of trial, or in

trusting that the children of Zion would be one day called in

with the fulness of the Gentiles. In the meanwhile, all around

her showed that their present state was that of punishment and

probation, and that it was their especial duty to suffer without

sinning. Thus prepared to consider herself as the victim of

misfortune, Rebecca had early reflected upon her own state, and

schooled her mind to meet the dangers which she had probably to

encounter.

The prisoner trembled, however, and changed colour, when a step

was heard on the stair, and the door of the turret-chamber slowly

opened, and a tall man, dressed as one of those banditti to whom

they owed their misfortune, slowly entered, and shut the door

behind him; his cap, pulled down upon his brows, concealed the

upper part of his face, and he held his mantle in such a manner

as to muffle the rest. In this guise, as if prepared for the

execution of some deed, at the thought of which he was himself

ashamed, he stood before the affrighted prisoner; yet, ruffian as

his dress bespoke him, he seemed at a loss to express what

purpose had brought him thither, so that Rebecca, making an

effort upon herself, had time to anticipate his explanation.

She had already unclasped two costly bracelets and a collar,

which she hastened to proffer to the supposed outlaw, concluding

naturally that to gratify his avarice was to bespeak his favour.

“Take these,” she said, “good friend, and for God’s sake be

merciful to me and my aged father! These ornaments are of value,

yet are they trifling to what he would bestow to obtain our

dismissal from this castle, free and uninjured.”

“Fair flower of Palestine,” replied the outlaw, “these pearls are

orient, but they yield in whiteness to your teeth; the diamonds

are brilliant, but they cannot match your eyes; and ever since I

have taken up this wild trade, I have made a vow to prefer beauty

to wealth.”

“Do not do yourself such wrong,” said Rebecca; “take ransom, and

have mercy!---Gold will purchase you pleasure,---to misuse us,

could only bring thee remorse. My father will willingly satiate

thy utmost wishes; and if thou wilt act wisely, thou mayst

purchase with our spoils thy restoration to civil society---mayst

obtain pardon for past errors, and be placed beyond the necessity

of committing more.”

“It is well spoken,” replied the outlaw in French, finding it

difficult probably to sustain, in Saxon, a conversation which

Rebecca had opened in that language; “but know, bright lily of

the vale of Baca! that thy father is already in the hands of a

powerful alchemist, who knows how to convert into gold and silver

even the rusty bars of a dungeon grate. The venerable Isaac is

subjected to an alembic, which will distil from him all he holds

dear, without any assistance from my requests or thy entreaty.

The ransom must be paid by love and beauty, and in no other coin

will I accept it.”

“Thou art no outlaw,” said Rebecca, in the same language in which

he addressed her; “no outlaw had refused such offers. No outlaw

in this land uses the dialect in which thou hast spoken. Thou

art no outlaw, but a Norman---a Norman, noble perhaps in birth

---O, be so in thy actions, and cast off this fearful mask of

outrage and violence!”

“And thou, who canst guess so truly,” said Brian de

Bois-Guilbert, dropping the mantle from his face, “art no true

daughter of Israel, but in all, save youth and beauty, a very

witch of Endor. I am not an outlaw, then, fair rose of Sharon.

And I am one who will be more prompt to hang thy neck and arms

with pearls and diamonds, which so well become them, than to

deprive thee of these ornaments.”

“What wouldst thou have of me,” said Rebecca, “if not my wealth?

---We can have nought in common between us---you are a Christian

---I am a Jewess.---Our union were contrary to the laws, alike of

the church and the synagogue.”

“It were so, indeed,” replied the Templar, laughing; “wed with a

Jewess? ‘Despardieux!’---Not if she were the Queen of Sheba! And

know, besides, sweet daughter of Zion, that were the most

Christian king to offer me his most Christian daughter, with

Languedoc for a dowery, I could not wed her. It is against my

vow to love any maiden, otherwise than ‘par amours’, as I will

love thee. I am a Templar. Behold the cross of my Holy Order.”

“Darest thou appeal to it,” said Rebecca, “on an occasion like

the present?”

“And if I do so,” said the Templar, “it concerns not thee, who

art no believer in the blessed sign of our salvation.”

“I believe as my fathers taught,” said Rebecca; “and may God

forgive my belief if erroneous! But you, Sir Knight, what is

yours, when you appeal without scruple to that which you deem

most holy, even while you are about to transgress the most solemn

of your vows as a knight, and as a man of religion?”

“It is gravely and well preached, O daughter of Sirach!” answered

the Templar; “but, gentle Ecclesiastics, thy narrow Jewish

prejudices make thee blind to our high privilege. Marriage were

an enduring crime on the part of a Templar; but what lesser folly

I may practise, I shall speedily be absolved from at the next

Preceptory of our Order. Not the wisest of monarchs, not his

father, whose examples you must needs allow are weighty, claimed

wider privileges than we poor soldiers of the Temple of Zion have

won by our zeal in its defence. The protectors of Solomon’s

Temple may claim license by the example of Solomon.”

“If thou readest the Scripture,” said the Jewess, “and the lives

of the saints, only to justify thine own license and profligacy,

thy crime is like that of him who extracts poison from the most

healthful and necessary herbs.”

The eyes of the Templar flashed fire at this reproof---“Hearken,”

he said, “Rebecca; I have hitherto spoken mildly to thee, but now

my language shall be that of a conqueror. Thou art the captive

of my bow and spear---subject to my will by the laws of all

nations; nor will I abate an inch of my right, or abstain from

taking by violence what thou refusest to entreaty or necessity.”

“Stand back,” said Rebecca---“stand back, and hear me ere thou

offerest to commit a sin