Ivanhoe: A Romance
word “melee”, (to express the general conflict,) and it evinced some
indifference to the honour of the country; but it was spoken by
Athelstane, whom he held in such profound respect, that he would not
trust himself to canvass his motives or his foibles. Moreover, he had
no time to make any remark, for Wamba thrust in his word, observing,
“It was better, though scarce easier, to be the best man among a
hundred, than the best man of two.”
Athelstane took the observation as a serious compliment; but Cedric,
who better understood the Jester’s meaning, darted at him a severe and
menacing look; and lucky it was for Wamba, perhaps, that the time and
place prevented his receiving, notwithstanding his place and service,
more sensible marks of his master’s resentment.
The pause in the tournament was still uninterrupted, excepting by the
voices of the heralds exclaiming—“Love of ladies, splintering of
lances! stand forth gallant knights, fair eyes look upon your deeds!”
The music also of the challengers breathed from time to time wild
bursts expressive of triumph or defiance, while the clowns grudged a
holiday which seemed to pass away in inactivity; and old knights and
nobles lamented in whispers the decay of martial spirit, spoke of the
triumphs of their younger days, but agreed that the land did not now
supply dames of such transcendent beauty as had animated the jousts of
former times. Prince John began to talk to his attendants about making
ready the banquet, and the necessity of adjudging the prize to Brian de
Bois-Guilbert, who had, with a single spear, overthrown two knights,
and foiled a third.
At length, as the Saracenic music of the challengers concluded one of
those long and high flourishes with which they had broken the silence
of the lists, it was answered by a solitary trumpet, which breathed a
note of defiance from the northern extremity. All eyes were turned to
see the new champion which these sounds announced, and no sooner were
the barriers opened than he paced into the lists. As far as could be
judged of a man sheathed in armour, the new adventurer did not greatly
exceed the middle size, and seemed to be rather slender than strongly
made. His suit of armour was formed of steel, richly inlaid with gold,
and the device on his shield was a young oak-tree pulled up by the
roots, with the Spanish word Desdichado, signifying Disinherited. He
was mounted on a gallant black horse, and as he passed through the
lists he gracefully saluted the Prince and the ladies by lowering his
lance. The dexterity with which he managed his steed, and something of
youthful grace which he displayed in his manner, won him the favour of
the multitude, which some of the lower classes expressed by calling
out, “Touch Ralph de Vipont’s shield—touch the Hospitallers shield; he
has the least sure seat, he is your cheapest bargain.”
The champion, moving onward amid these well-meant hints, ascended the
platform by the sloping alley which led to it from the lists, and, to
the astonishment of all present, riding straight up to the central
pavilion, struck with the sharp end of his spear the shield of Brian de
Bois-Guilbert until it rung again. All stood astonished at his
presumption, but none more than the redoubted Knight whom he had thus
defied to mortal combat, and who, little expecting so rude a challenge,
was standing carelessly at the door of the pavilion.
“Have you confessed yourself, brother,” said the Templar, “and have you
heard mass this morning, that you peril your life so frankly?”
“I am fitter to meet death than thou art” answered the Disinherited
Knight; for by this name the stranger had recorded himself in the books
of the tourney.
“Then take your place in the lists,” said Bois-Guilbert, “and look your
last upon the sun; for this night thou shalt sleep in paradise.”
“Gramercy for thy courtesy,” replied the Disinherited Knight, “and to
requite it, I advise thee to take a fresh horse and a new lance, for by
my honour you will need both.”
Having expressed himself thus confidently, he reined his horse backward
down the slope which he had ascended, and compelled him in the same
manner to move backward through the lists, till he reached the northern
extremity, where he remained stationary, in expectation of his
antagonist. This feat of horsemanship again attracted the applause of
the multitude.
However incensed at his adversary for the precautions which he
recommended, Brian de Bois-Guilbert did not neglect his advice; for his
honour was too nearly concerned, to permit his neglecting any means
which might ensure victory over his presumptuous opponent. He changed
his horse for a proved and fresh one of great strength and spirit. He
chose a new and a tough spear, lest the wood of the former might have
been strained in the previous encounters he had sustained. Lastly, he
laid aside his shield, which had received some little damage, and
received another from his squires. His first had only borne the general
device of his rider, representing two knights riding upon one horse, an
emblem expressive of the original humility and poverty of the Templars,
qualities which they had since exchanged for the arrogance and wealth
that finally occasioned their suppression. Bois-Guilbert’s new shield
bore a raven in full flight, holding in its claws a skull, and bearing
the motto, “Gare le Corbeau”.
When the two champions stood opposed to each other at the two
extremities of the lists, the public expectation was strained to the
highest pitch. Few augured the possibility that the encounter could
terminate well for the Disinherited Knight, yet his courage and
gallantry secured the general good wishes of the spectators.
The trumpets had no sooner given the signal, than the champions
vanished from their posts with the speed of lightning, and closed in
the centre of the lists with the shock of a thunderbolt. The lances
burst into shivers up to the very grasp, and it seemed at the moment
that both knights had fallen, for the shock had made each horse recoil
backwards upon its haunches. The address of the riders recovered their
steeds by use of the bridle and spur; and having glared on each other
for an instant with eyes which seemed to flash fire through the bars of
their visors, each made a demi-volte, and, retiring to the extremity of
the lists, received a fresh lance from the attendants.
A loud shout from the spectators, waving of scarfs and handkerchiefs,
and general acclamations, attested the interest taken by the spectators
in this encounter; the most equal, as well as the best performed, which
had graced the day. But no sooner had the knights resumed their
station, than the clamour of applause was hushed into a silence, so
deep and so dead, that it seemed the multitude were afraid even to
breathe.
A few minutes pause having been allowed, that the combatants and their
horses might recover breath, Prince John with his truncheon signed to
the trumpets to sound the onset. The champions a second time sprung
from their stations, and closed in the centre of the lists, with the
same speed, the same dexterity, the same violence, but not the same
equal fortune as before.
In this second encounter, the Templar aimed at the centre of his
antagonist’s shield, and struck it so fair and forcibly, that his spear
went to shivers, and the Disinherited Knight reeled in his saddle. On
the other hand, that champion had, in the beginning of his career,
directed the point of his lance towards Bois-Guilbert’s shield, but,
changing his aim almost in the moment of encounter, he addressed it to
the helmet, a mark more difficult to hit, but which, if attained,
rendered the shock more irresistible. Fair and true he hit the Norman
on the visor, where his lance’s point kept hold of the bars. Yet, even
at this disadvantage, the Templar sustained his high reputation; and
had not the girths of his saddle burst, he might not have been
unhorsed. As it chanced, however, saddle, horse, and man, rolled on the
ground under a cloud of dust.
To extricate himself from the stirrups and fallen steed, was to the
Templar scarce the work of a moment; and, stung with madness, both at
his disgrace and at the acclamations with which it was hailed by the
spectators, he drew his sword and waved it in defiance of his
conqueror. The Disinherited Knight sprung from his steed, and also
unsheathed his sword. The marshals of the field, however, spurred their
horses between them, and reminded them, that the laws of the tournament
did not, on the present occasion, permit this species of encounter.
“We shall meet again, I trust,” said the Templar, casting a resentful
glance at his antagonist; “and where there are none to separate us.”
“If we do not,” said the Disinherited Knight, “the fault shall not be
mine. On foot or horseback, with spear, with axe, or with sword, I am
alike ready to encounter thee.”
More and angrier words would have been exchanged, but the marshals,
crossing their lances betwixt them, compelled them to separate. The
Disinherited Knight returned to his first station, and Bois-Guilbert to
his tent, where he remained for the rest of the day in an agony of
despair.
Without alighting from his horse, the conqueror called for a bowl of
wine, and opening the beaver, or lower part of his helmet, announced
that he quaffed it, “To all true English hearts, and to the confusion
of foreign tyrants.” He then commanded his trumpet to sound a defiance
to the challengers, and desired a herald to announce to them, that he
should make no election, but was willing to encounter them in the order
in which they pleased to advance against him.
The gigantic Front-de-Bœuf, armed in sable armour, was the first who
took the field. He bore on a white shield a black bull’s head, half
defaced by the numerous encounters which he had undergone, and bearing
the arrogant motto, “Cave, Adsum”. Over this champion the Disinherited
Knight obtained a slight but decisive advantage. Both Knights broke
their lances fairly, but Front-de-Bœuf, who lost a stirrup in the
encounter, was adjudged to have the disadvantage.
In the stranger’s third encounter with Sir Philip Malvoisin, he was
equally successful; striking that baron so forcibly on the casque, that
the laces of the helmet broke, and Malvoisin, only saved from falling
by being unhelmeted, was declared vanquished like his companions.
In his fourth combat with De Grantmesnil, the Disinherited Knight
showed as much courtesy as he had hitherto evinced courage and
dexterity. De Grantmesnil’s horse, which was young and violent, reared
and plunged in the course of the career so as to disturb the rider’s
aim, and the stranger, declining to take the advantage which this
accident afforded him, raised his lance, and passing his antagonist
without touching him, wheeled his horse and rode back again to his own
end of the lists, offering his antagonist, by a herald, the chance of a
second encounter. This De Grantmesnil declined, avowing himself
vanquished as much by the courtesy as by the address of his opponent.
Ralph de Vipont summed up the list of the stranger’s triumphs, being
hurled to the ground with such force, that the blood gushed from his
nose and his mouth, and he was borne senseless from the lists.
The acclamations of thousands applauded the unanimous award of the
Prince and marshals, announcing that day’s honours to the Disinherited
Knight.
CHAPTER IX
——In the midst was seen
A lady of a more majestic mien,
By stature and by beauty mark’d their sovereign Queen.
And as in beauty she surpass’d the choir,
So nobler than the rest was her attire;
A crown of ruddy gold enclosed her brow,
Plain without pomp, and rich without a show;
A branch of Agnus Castus in her hand,