Ivanhoe: A Romance by Walter Scott (the best books of all time TXT) đ
- Author: Walter Scott
Book online «Ivanhoe: A Romance by Walter Scott (the best books of all time TXT) đ». Author Walter Scott
The situation of Cedric and of the Black Knight was now truly dangerous, and would have been still more so, but for the constancy of the archers in the barbican, who ceased not to shower their arrows upon the battlements, distracting the attention of those by whom they were manned, and thus affording a respite to their two chiefs from the storm of missiles which must otherwise have overwhelmed them. But their situation was eminently perilous, and was becoming more so with every moment.
âShame on ye all!â cried De Bracy to the soldiers around him; âdo ye call yourselves cross-bowmen, and let these two dogs keep their station under the walls of the castle?âHeave over the coping stones from the battlements, an better may not beâGet pick-axe and levers, and down with that huge pinnacle!â pointing to a heavy piece of stone carved-work that projected from the parapet.
At this moment the besiegers caught sight of the red flag upon the angle of the tower which Ulrica had described to Cedric. The stout yeoman Locksley was the first who was aware of it, as he was hasting to the outwork, impatient to see the progress of the assault.
âSaint George!â he cried, âMerry Saint George for England!âTo the charge, bold yeomen!âwhy leave ye the good knight and noble Cedric to storm the pass alone?âmake in, mad priest, show thou canst fight for thy rosary,âmake in, brave yeomen!âthe castle is ours, we have friends withinâSee yonder flag, it is the appointed signalâTorquilstone is ours!âThink of honour, think of spoilâOne effort, and the place is ours!â
With that he bent his good bow, and sent a shaft right through the breast of one of the men-at-arms, who, under De Bracyâs direction, was loosening a fragment from one of the battlements to precipitate on the heads of Cedric and the Black Knight. A second soldier caught from the hands of the dying man the iron crow, with which he heaved at and had loosened the stone pinnacle, when, receiving an arrow through his head-piece, he dropped from the battlements into the moat a dead man. The men-at-arms were daunted, for no armour seemed proof against the shot of this tremendous archer.
âDo you give ground, base knaves!â said De Bracy; ââMount joye Saint Dennis!ââGive me the lever!â
And, snatching it up, he again assailed the loosened pinnacle, which was of weight enough, if thrown down, not only to have destroyed the remnant of the drawbridge, which sheltered the two foremost assailants, but also to have sunk the rude float of planks over which they had crossed. All saw the danger, and the boldest, even the stout Friar himself, avoided setting foot on the raft. Thrice did Locksley bend his shaft against De Bracy, and thrice did his arrow bound back from the knightâs armour of proof.
âCurse on thy Spanish steel-coat!â said Locksley, âhad English smith forged it, these arrows had gone through, an as if it had been silk or sendal.â He then began to call out, âComrades! friends! noble Cedric! bear back, and let the ruin fall.â
His warning voice was unheard, for the din which the knight himself occasioned by his strokes upon the postern would have drowned twenty war-trumpets. The faithful Gurth indeed sprung forward on the planked bridge, to warn Cedric of his impending fate, or to share it with him. But his warning would have come too late; the massive pinnacle already tottered, and De Bracy, who still heaved at his task, would have accomplished it, had not the voice of the Templar sounded close in his ears:â
âAll is lost, De Bracy, the castle burns.â
âThou art mad to say so!â replied the knight.
âIt is all in a light flame on the western side. I have striven in vain to extinguish it.â
With the stern coolness which formed the basis of his character, Brian de Bois-Guilbert communicated this hideous intelligence, which was not so calmly received by his astonished comrade.
âSaints of Paradise!â said De Bracy; âwhat is to be done? I vow to Saint Nicholas of Limoges a candlestick of pure goldââ
âSpare thy vow,â said the Templar, âand mark me. Lead thy men down, as if to a sally; throw the postern-gate openâThere are but two men who occupy the float, fling them into the moat, and push across for the barbican. I will charge from the main gate, and attack the barbican on the outside; and if we can regain that post, be assured we shall defend ourselves until we are relieved, or at least till they grant us fair quarter.â
âIt is well thought upon,â said De Bracy; âI will play my partâTemplar, thou wilt not fail me?â
âHand and glove, I will not!â said Bois-Guilbert. âBut haste thee, in the name of God!â
De Bracy hastily drew his men together, and rushed down to the postern-gate, which he caused instantly to be thrown open. But scarce was this done ere the portentous strength of the Black Knight forced his way inward in despite of De Bracy and his followers. Two of the foremost instantly fell, and the rest gave way notwithstanding all their leaderâs efforts to stop them.
âDogs!â said De Bracy, âwill ye let TWO men win our only pass for safety?â
âHe is the devil!â said a veteran man-at-arms, bearing back from the blows of their sable antagonist.
âAnd if he be the devil,â replied De Bracy, âwould you fly from him into the mouth of hell?âthe castle burns behind us, villains!âlet despair give you courage, or let me forward! I will cope with this champion myself.â
And well and chivalrous did De Bracy that day maintain the fame he had acquired in the civil wars of that dreadful period. The vaulted passage to which the postern gave entrance, and in which these two redoubted champions were now fighting hand to hand, rung with the furious blows which they dealt each other, De Bracy with his sword, the Black Knight with his ponderous axe. At length the Norman received a blow, which, though its force was partly parried by his shield, for otherwise never more would De Bracy have again moved limb, descended yet with such violence on his crest, that he measured his length on the paved floor.
âYield thee, De Bracy,â said the Black Champion, stooping over him, and holding against the bars of his helmet the fatal poniard with which the knights dispatched their enemies, (and which was called the dagger of mercy,)ââyield thee, Maurice de Bracy, rescue or no rescue, or thou art but a dead man.â
âI will not yield,â replied De Bracy faintly, âto an unknown conqueror. Tell me thy name, or work thy pleasure on meâit shall never be said that Maurice de Bracy was prisoner to a nameless churl.â
The Black Knight whispered something into the ear of the vanquished.
âI yield me to be true prisoner, rescue or no rescue,â answered the Norman, exchanging his tone of stern and determined obstinacy for one of deep though sullen submission.
âGo to the barbican,â said the victor, in a tone of authority, âand there wait my further orders.â
âYet first, let me say,â said De Bracy, âwhat it imports thee to know. Wilfred of Ivanhoe is wounded and a prisoner, and will perish in the burning castle without present help.â
âWilfred of Ivanhoe!â exclaimed the Black Knightââprisoner, and perish!âThe life of every man in the castle shall answer it if a hair of his head be singedâShow me his chamber!â
âAscend yonder winding stair,â said De Bracy; âit leads to his apartmentâWilt thou not accept my guidance?â he added, in a submissive voice.
âNo. To the barbican, and there wait my orders. I trust thee not, De Bracy.â
During this combat and the brief conversation which ensued, Cedric, at the head of a body of men, among whom the Friar was conspicuous, had pushed across the bridge as soon as they saw the postern open, and drove back the dispirited and despairing followers of De Bracy, of whom some asked quarter, some offered vain resistance, and the greater part fled towards the court-yard. De Bracy himself arose from the ground, and cast a sorrowful glance after his conqueror. âHe trusts me not!â he repeated; âbut have I deserved his trust?â He then lifted his sword from the floor, took off his helmet in token of submission, and, going to the barbican, gave up his sword to Locksley, whom he met by the way.
As the fire augmented, symptoms of it became soon apparent in the chamber, where Ivanhoe was watched and tended by the Jewess Rebecca. He had been awakened from his brief slumber by the noise of the battle; and his attendant, who had, at his anxious desire, again placed herself at the window to watch and report to him the fate of the attack, was for some time prevented from observing either, by the increase of the smouldering and stifling vapour. At length the volumes of smoke which rolled into the apartmentâthe cries for water, which were heard even above the din of the battle made them sensible of the progress of this new danger.
âThe castle burns,â said Rebecca; âit burns!âWhat can we do to save ourselves?â
âFly, Rebecca, and save thine own life,â said Ivanhoe, âfor no human aid can avail me.â
âI will not fly,â answered Rebecca; âwe will be saved or perish togetherâAnd yet, great God!âmy father, my fatherâwhat will be his fate!â
At this moment the door of the apartment flew open, and the Templar presented himself,âa ghastly figure, for his gilded armour was broken and bloody, and the plume was partly shorn away, partly burnt from his casque. âI have found thee,â said he to Rebecca; âthou shalt prove I will keep my word to share weal and woe with theeâThere is but one path to safety, I have cut my way through fifty dangers to point it to theeâup, and instantly follow me!â 38
âAlone,â answered Rebecca, âI will not follow thee. If thou wert born of womanâif thou hast but a touch of human charity in theeâif thy heart be not hard as thy breastplateâsave my aged fatherâsave this wounded knight!â
âA knight,â answered the Templar, with his characteristic calmness, âa knight, Rebecca, must encounter his fate, whether it meet him in the shape of sword or flameâand who recks how or where a Jew meets with his?â
âSavage warrior,â said Rebecca, ârather will I perish in the flames than accept safety from thee!â
âThou shalt not choose, Rebeccaâonce didst thou foil me, but never mortal did so twice.â
So saying, he seized on the terrified maiden, who filled the air with her shrieks, and bore her out of the room in his arms in spite of her cries, and without regarding the menaces and defiance which Ivanhoe thundered against him. âHound of the Templeâstain to thine Orderâset free the damsel! Traitor of Bois-Guilbert, it is Ivanhoe commands thee!âVillain, I will have thy heartâs blood!â
âI had not found thee, Wilfred,â said the Black Knight, who at that instant entered the apartment, âbut for thy shouts.â
âIf thou beâst true knight,â said Wilfred, âthink not of meâpursue yon ravisherâsave the Lady Rowenaâlook to the noble Cedric!â
âIn their turn,â answered he of the Fetterlock, âbut thine is first.â
And seizing upon Ivanhoe, he bore him off with as much ease as the Templar had carried off Rebecca, rushed with him to the postern, and having there delivered his burden to the care of two yeomen, he again entered the castle to assist in the rescue of the other prisoners.
One turret was now in bright flames, which flashed out furiously from window and shot-hole. But in other parts, the great thickness of the walls and the vaulted roofs of the apartments, resisted the progress of the flames, and there the rage of man still triumphed, as the scarce more dreadful element held mastery elsewhere; for the besiegers pursued the defenders of the castle from chamber to chamber, and satiated in their blood the vengeance which had long animated them against the soldiers of the tyrant Front-de-BĆuf. Most of the garrison resisted to the uttermostâfew of them asked quarterânone received it. The air was filled with groans and clashing of armsâthe floors were slippery with the blood of despairing and expiring wretches.
Through this scene of confusion, Cedric rushed in quest of Rowena, while the faithful Gurth, following him closely through the âmeleeâ, neglected his own safety while he strove to avert the blows that were aimed at his master. The noble Saxon was so fortunate as to reach his wardâs apartment just as she had abandoned all hope of safety, and, with a crucifix clasped in agony to her bosom, sat in expectation of instant death. He committed her to the charge of Gurth,
Comments (0)