Ivanhoe: A Romance
gage my rosary that I name the Sovereign of Love and Beauty.”
“Bois-Guilbert,” answered De Bracy, “is a good lance; but there are
others around these lists, Sir Prior, who will not fear to encounter
him.”
“Silence, sirs,” said Waldemar, “and let the Prince assume his seat.
The knights and spectators are alike impatient, the time advances, and
highly fit it is that the sports should commence.”
Prince John, though not yet a monarch, had in Waldemar Fitzurse all the
inconveniences of a favourite minister, who, in serving his sovereign,
must always do so in his own way. The Prince acquiesced, however,
although his disposition was precisely of that kind which is apt to be
obstinate upon trifles, and, assuming his throne, and being surrounded
by his followers, gave signal to the heralds to proclaim the laws of
the tournament, which were briefly as follows:
First, the five challengers were to undertake all comers.
Secondly, any knight proposing to combat, might, if he pleased, select
a special antagonist from among the challengers, by touching his
shield. If he did so with the reverse of his lance, the trial of skill
was made with what were called the arms of courtesy, that is, with
lances at whose extremity a piece of round flat board was fixed, so
that no danger was encountered, save from the shock of the horses and
riders. But if the shield was touched with the sharp end of the lance,
the combat was understood to be at “outrance”, that is, the knights
were to fight with sharp weapons, as in actual battle.
Thirdly, when the knights present had accomplished their vow, by each
of them breaking five lances, the Prince was to declare the victor in
the first day’s tourney, who should receive as prize a warhorse of
exquisite beauty and matchless strength; and in addition to this reward
of valour, it was now declared, he should have the peculiar honour of
naming the Queen of Love and Beauty, by whom the prize should be given
on the ensuing day.
Fourthly, it was announced, that, on the second day, there should be a
general tournament, in which all the knights present, who were desirous
to win praise, might take part; and being divided into two bands of
equal numbers, might fight it out manfully, until the signal was given
by Prince John to cease the combat. The elected Queen of Love and
Beauty was then to crown the knight whom the Prince should adjudge to
have borne himself best in this second day, with a coronet composed of
thin gold plate, cut into the shape of a laurel crown. On this second
day the knightly games ceased. But on that which was to follow, feats
of archery, of bull-baiting, and other popular amusements, were to be
practised, for the more immediate amusement of the populace. In this
manner did Prince John endeavour to lay the foundation of a popularity,
which he was perpetually throwing down by some inconsiderate act of
wanton aggression upon the feelings and prejudices of the people.
The lists now presented a most splendid spectacle. The sloping
galleries were crowded with all that was noble, great, wealthy, and
beautiful in the northern and midland parts of England; and the
contrast of the various dresses of these dignified spectators, rendered
the view as gay as it was rich, while the interior and lower space,
filled with the substantial burgesses and yeomen of merry England,
formed, in their more plain attire, a dark fringe, or border, around
this circle of brilliant embroidery, relieving, and, at the same time,
setting off its splendour.
The heralds finished their proclamation with their usual cry of
“Largesse, largesse, gallant knights!” and gold and silver pieces were
showered on them from the galleries, it being a high point of chivalry
to exhibit liberality towards those whom the age accounted at once the
secretaries and the historians of honour. The bounty of the spectators
was acknowledged by the customary shouts of “Love of Ladies—Death of
Champions—Honour to the Generous—Glory to the Brave!” To which the more
humble spectators added their acclamations, and a numerous band of
trumpeters the flourish of their martial instruments. When these sounds
had ceased, the heralds withdrew from the lists in gay and glittering
procession, and none remained within them save the marshals of the
field, who, armed cap-a-pie, sat on horseback, motionless as statues,
at the opposite ends of the lists. Meantime, the enclosed space at the
northern extremity of the lists, large as it was, was now completely
crowded with knights desirous to prove their skill against the
challengers, and, when viewed from the galleries, presented the
appearance of a sea of waving plumage, intermixed with glistening
helmets, and tall lances, to the extremities of which were, in many
cases, attached small pennons of about a span’s breadth, which,
fluttering in the air as the breeze caught them, joined with the
restless motion of the feathers to add liveliness to the scene.
At length the barriers were opened, and five knights, chosen by lot,
advanced slowly into the area; a single champion riding in front, and
the other four following in pairs. All were splendidly armed, and my
Saxon authority (in the Wardour Manuscript) records at great length
their devices, their colours, and the embroidery of their horse
trappings. It is unnecessary to be particular on these subjects. To
borrow lines from a contemporary poet, who has written but too little:
“The knights are dust,
And their good swords are rust,
Their souls are with the saints, we trust.” 17
Their escutcheons have long mouldered from the walls of their castles.
Their castles themselves are but green mounds and shattered ruins—the
place that once knew them, knows them no more—nay, many a race since
theirs has died out and been forgotten in the very land which they
occupied, with all the authority of feudal proprietors and feudal
lords. What, then, would it avail the reader to know their names, or
the evanescent symbols of their martial rank!
Now, however, no whit anticipating the oblivion which awaited their
names and feats, the champions advanced through the lists, restraining
their fiery steeds, and compelling them to move slowly, while, at the
same time, they exhibited their paces, together with the grace and
dexterity of the riders. As the procession entered the lists, the sound
of a wild Barbaric music was heard from behind the tents of the
challengers, where the performers were concealed. It was of Eastern
origin, having been brought from the Holy Land; and the mixture of the
cymbals and bells seemed to bid welcome at once, and defiance, to the
knights as they advanced. With the eyes of an immense concourse of
spectators fixed upon them, the five knights advanced up the platform
upon which the tents of the challengers stood, and there separating
themselves, each touched slightly, and with the reverse of his lance,
the shield of the antagonist to whom he wished to oppose himself. The
lower orders of spectators in general—nay, many of the higher class,
and it is even said several of the ladies, were rather disappointed at
the champions choosing the arms of courtesy. For the same sort of
persons, who, in the present day, applaud most highly the deepest
tragedies, were then interested in a tournament exactly in proportion
to the danger incurred by the champions engaged.
Having intimated their more pacific purpose, the champions retreated to
the extremity of the lists, where they remained drawn up in a line;
while the challengers, sallying each from his pavilion, mounted their
horses, and, headed by Brian de Bois-Guilbert, descended from the
platform, and opposed themselves individually to the knights who had
touched their respective shields.
At the flourish of clarions and trumpets, they started out against each
other at full gallop; and such was the superior dexterity or good
fortune of the challengers, that those opposed to Bois-Guilbert,
Malvoisin, and Front-de-Bœuf, rolled on the ground. The antagonist of
Grantmesnil, instead of bearing his lance-point fair against the crest
or the shield of his enemy, swerved so much from the direct line as to
break the weapon athwart the person of his opponent—a circumstance
which was accounted more disgraceful than that of being actually
unhorsed; because the latter might happen from accident, whereas the
former evinced awkwardness and want of management of the weapon and of
the horse. The fifth knight alone maintained the honour of his party,
and parted fairly with the Knight of St John, both splintering their
lances without advantage on either side.
The shouts of the multitude, together with the acclamations of the
heralds, and the clangour of the trumpets, announced the triumph of the
victors and the defeat of the vanquished. The former retreated to their
pavilions, and the latter, gathering themselves up as they could,
withdrew from the lists in disgrace and dejection, to agree with their
victors concerning the redemption of their arms and their horses,
which, according to the laws of the tournament, they had forfeited. The
fifth of their number alone tarried in the lists long enough to be
greeted by the applauses of the spectators, amongst whom he retreated,
to the aggravation, doubtless, of his companions’ mortification.
A second and a third party of knights took the field; and although they
had various success, yet, upon the whole, the advantage decidedly
remained with the challengers, not one of whom lost his seat or swerved
from his charge—misfortunes which befell one or two of their
antagonists in each encounter. The spirits, therefore, of those opposed
to them, seemed to be considerably damped by their continued success.
Three knights only appeared on the fourth entry, who, avoiding the
shields of Bois-Guilbert and Front-de-Bœuf, contented themselves with
touching those of the three other knights, who had not altogether
manifested the same strength and dexterity. This politic selection did
not alter the fortune of the field, the challengers were still
successful: one of their antagonists was overthrown, and both the
others failed in the “attaint”, 18 that is, in striking the helmet and
shield of their antagonist firmly and strongly, with the lance held in
a direct line, so that the weapon might break unless the champion was
overthrown.
After this fourth encounter, there was a considerable pause; nor did it
appear that any one was very desirous of renewing the contest. The
spectators murmured among themselves; for, among the challengers,
Malvoisin and Front-de-Bœuf were unpopular from their characters, and
the others, except Grantmesnil, were disliked as strangers and
foreigners.
But none shared the general feeling of dissatisfaction so keenly as
Cedric the Saxon, who saw, in each advantage gained by the Norman
challengers, a repeated triumph over the honour of England. His own
education had taught him no skill in the games of chivalry, although,
with the arms of his Saxon ancestors, he had manifested himself, on
many occasions, a brave and determined soldier. He looked anxiously to
Athelstane, who had learned the accomplishments of the age, as if
desiring that he should make some personal effort to recover the
victory which was passing into the hands of the Templar and his
associates. But, though both stout of heart, and strong of person,
Athelstane had a disposition too inert and unambitious to make the
exertions which Cedric seemed to expect from him.
“The day is against England, my lord,” said Cedric, in a marked tone;
“are you not tempted to take the lance?”
“I shall tilt to-morrow” answered Athelstane, “in the ‘melee’; it is
not worth while for me to arm myself to-day.”
Two things displeased Cedric in this speech. It contained the Norman