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turned in his hand, so that the blade struck me flatlings, being
averted by the handle of the good mace with which I warded the
blow; had my steel-cap been on, I had not valued it a rush, and
had dealt him such a counter-buff as would have spoilt his
retreat. But as it was, down I went, stunned, indeed, but
unwounded. Others, of both sides, were beaten down and
slaughtered above me, so that I never recovered my senses until I
found myself in a coffin---(an open one, by good luck)---placed
before the altar of the church of Saint Edmund’s. I sneezed
repeatedly---groaned---awakened and would have arisen, when the
Sacristan and Abbot, full of terror, came running at the noise,
surprised, doubtless, and no way pleased to find the man alive,
whose heirs they had proposed themselves to be. I asked for wine
---they gave me some, but it must have been highly medicated, for
I slept yet more deeply than before, and wakened not for many
hours. I found my arms swathed down---my feet tied so fast that
mine ankles ache at the very remembrance---the place was utterly
dark---the oubliette, as I suppose, of their accursed convent,
and from the close, stifled, damp smell, I conceive it is also
used for a place of sepulture. I had strange thoughts of what
had befallen me, when the door of my dungeon creaked, and two
villain monks entered. They would have persuaded me I was in
purgatory, but I knew too well the pursy short-breathed voice of
the Father Abbot.---Saint Jeremy! how different from that tone
with which he used to ask me for another slice of the haunch!
---the dog has feasted with me from Christmas to Twelfth-night.”
“Have patience, noble Athelstane,” said the King, “take breath
---tell your story at leisure---beshrew me but such a tale is as
well worth listening to as a romance.”
“Ay but, by the rood of Bromeholm, there was no romance in the
matter!” said Athelstane.---“A barley loaf and a pitcher of water
---that THEY gave me, the niggardly traitors, whom my father, and
I myself, had enriched, when their best resources were the
flitches of bacon and measures of corn, out of which they
wheedled poor serfs and bondsmen, in exchange for their prayers
---the nest of foul ungrateful vipers---barley bread and ditch
water to such a patron as I had been! I will smoke them out of
their nest, though I be excommunicated!”
“But, in the name of Our Lady, noble Athelstane,” said Cedric,
grasping the hand of his friend, “how didst thou escape this
imminent danger---did their hearts relent?”
“Did their hearts relent!” echoed Athelstane.---“Do rocks melt
with the sun? I should have been there still, had not some stir
in the Convent, which I find was their procession hitherward to
eat my funeral feast, when they well knew how and where I had
been buried alive, summoned the swarm out of their hive. I
heard them droning out their death-psalms, little judging they
were sung in respect for my soul by those who were thus famishing
my body. They went, however, and I waited long for food---no
wonder---the gouty Sacristan was even too busy with his own
provender to mind mine. At length down he came, with an unstable
step and a strong flavour of wine and spices about his person.
Good cheer had opened his heart, for he left me a nook of pasty
and a flask of wine, instead of my former fare. I ate, drank,
and was invigorated; when, to add to my good luck, the Sacristan,
too totty to discharge his duty of turnkey fitly, locked the
door beside the staple, so that it fell ajar. The light, the
food, the wine, set my invention to work. The staple to which my
chains were fixed, was more rusted than I or the villain Abbot
had supposed. Even iron could not remain without consuming in
the damps of that infernal dungeon.”
“Take breath, noble Athelstane,” said Richard, “and partake of
some refreshment, ere you proceed with a tale so dreadful.”
“Partake!” quoth Athelstane; “I have been partaking five times
to-day---and yet a morsel of that savoury ham were not altogether
foreign to the matter; and I pray you, fair sir, to do me reason
in a cup of wine.”
The guests, though still agape with astonishment, pledged their
resuscitated landlord, who thus proceeded in his story:---He had
indeed now many more auditors than those to whom it was
commenced, for Edith, having given certain necessary orders for
arranging matters within the Castle, had followed the dead-alive
up to the stranger’s apartment attended by as many of the guests,
male and female, as could squeeze into the small room, while
others, crowding the staircase, caught up an erroneous edition of
the story, and transmitted it still more inaccurately to those
beneath, who again sent it forth to the vulgar without, in a
fashion totally irreconcilable to the real fact. Athelstane,
however, went on as follows, with the history of his escape:---
“Finding myself freed from the staple, I dragged myself up stairs
as well as a man loaded with shackles, and emaciated with
fasting, might; and after much groping about, I was at length
directed, by the sound of a jolly roundelay, to the apartment
where the worthy Sacristan, an it so please ye, was holding a
devil’s mass with a huge beetle-browed, broad-shouldered brother
of the grey-frock and cowl, who looked much more like a thief
than a clergyman. I burst in upon them, and the fashion of my
grave-clothes, as well as the clanking of my chains, made me more
resemble an inhabitant of the other world than of this. Both
stood aghast; but when I knocked down the Sacristan with my fist,
the other fellow, his pot-companion, fetched a blow at me with a
huge quarter-staff.”
“This must be our Friar Tuck, for a count’s ransom,” said
Richard, looking at Ivanhoe.
“He may be the devil, an he will,” said Athelstane. “Fortunately
he missed the aim; and on my approaching to grapple with him,
took to his heels and ran for it. I failed not to set my own
heels at liberty by means of the fetter-key, which hung amongst
others at the sexton’s belt; and I had thoughts of beating out
the knave’s brains with the bunch of keys, but gratitude for the
nook of pasty and the flask of wine which the rascal had imparted
to my captivity, came over my heart; so, with a brace of hearty
kicks, I left him on the floor, pouched some baked meat, and a
leathern bottle of wine, with which the two venerable brethren
had been regaling, went to the stable, and found in a private
stall mine own best palfrey, which, doubtless, had been set apart
for the holy Father Abbot’s particular use. Hither I came with
all the speed the beast could compass---man and mother’s son
flying before me wherever I came, taking me for a spectre, the
more especially as, to prevent my being recognised, I drew the
corpse-hood over my face. I had not gained admittance into my
own castle, had I not been supposed to be the attendant of a
juggler who is making the people in the castle-yard very merry,
considering they are assembled to celebrate their lord’s funeral
---I say the sewer thought I was dressed to bear a part in the
tregetour’s mummery, and so I got admission, and did but disclose
myself to my mother, and eat a hasty morsel, ere I came in quest
of you, my noble friend.”
“And you have found me,” said Cedric, “ready to resume our brave
projects of honour and liberty. I tell thee, never will dawn a
morrow so auspicious as the next, for the deliverance of the
noble Saxon race.”
“Talk not to me of delivering any one,” said Athelstane; “it is
well I am delivered myself. I am more intent on punishing that
villain Abbot. He shall hang on the top of this Castle of
Coningsburgh, in his cope and stole; and if the stairs be too
strait to admit his fat carcass, I will have him craned up from
without.”
“But, my son,” said Edith, “consider his sacred office.”
“Consider my three days’ fast,” replied Athelstane; “I will have
their blood every one of them. Front-de-Boeuf was burnt alive
for a less matter, for he kept a good table for his prisoners,
only put too much garlic in his last dish of pottage. But these
hypocritical, ungrateful slaves, so often the self-invited
flatterers at my board, who gave me neither pottage nor garlic,
more or less, they die, by the soul of Hengist!”
“But the Pope, my noble friend,”---said Cedric---
“But the devil, my noble friend,”---answered Athelstane; “they
die, and no more of them. Were they the best monks upon earth,
the world would go on without them.”
“For shame, noble Athelstane,” said Cedric; “forget such wretches
in the career of glory which lies open before thee. Tell this
Norman prince, Richard of Anjou, that, lion-hearted as he is, he
shall not hold undisputed the throne of Alfred, while a male
descendant of the Holy Confessor lives to dispute it.”
“How!” said Athelstane, “is this the noble King Richard?”
“It is Richard Plantagenet himself,” said Cedric; “yet I need not
remind thee that, coming hither a guest of free-will, he may
neither be injured nor detained prisoner---thou well knowest thy
duty to him as his host.”
“Ay, by my faith!” said Athelstane; “and my duty as a subject
besides, for I here tender him my allegiance, heart and hand.”
“My son,” said Edith, “think on thy royal rights!”
“Think on the freedom of England, degenerate Prince!” said
Cedric.
“Mother and friend,” said Athelstane, “a truce to your
upbraidings---bread and water and a dungeon are marvellous
mortifiers of ambition, and I rise from the tomb a wiser man than
I descended into it. One half of those vain follies were puffed
into mine ear by that perfidious Abbot Wolfram, and you may now
judge if he is a counsellor to be trusted. Since these plots
were set in agitation, I have had nothing but hurried journeys,
indigestions, blows and bruises, imprisonments and starvation;
besides that they can only end in the murder of some thousands of
quiet folk. I tell you, I will be king in my own domains, and
nowhere else; and my first act of dominion shall be to hang the
Abbot.”
“And my ward Rowena,” said Cedric---“I trust you intend not to
desert her?”
“Father Cedric,” said Athelstane, “be reasonable. The Lady
Rowena cares not for me---she loves the little finger of my
kinsman Wilfred’s glove better than my whole person. There she
stands to avouch it---Nay, blush not, kinswoman, there is no
shame in loving a courtly knight better than a country franklin
---and do not laugh neither, Rowena, for grave-clothes and a thin
visage are, God knows, no matter of merriment---Nay, an thou wilt
needs laugh, I will find thee a better jest---Give me thy hand,
or rather lend it me, for I but ask it in the way of friendship.
---Here, cousin Wilfred of Ivanhoe, in thy favour I renounce and
abjure------Hey! by Saint Dunstan, our cousin Wilfred hath
vanished!---Yet, unless my eyes are still dazzled with the
fasting I have undergone, I saw him stand there but even now.”
All now looked around and enquired for Ivanhoe, but he had
vanished. It was at length discovered that a Jew had been to
seek him; and that, after very brief conference, he had called
for Gurth and his armour, and had left the castle.
“Fair cousin,” said Athelstane to Rowena, “could I think that
this sudden disappearance of Ivanhoe was occasioned by other than
the weightiest
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