Ivanhoe: A Romance
has this night befallen you, and you will have no room to repent
it—neglect what is now told you, and the Tower of London shall not
protect you against our revenge.”
“Good night to you, kind sirs,” said Gurth; “I shall remember your
orders, and trust that there is no offence in wishing you a safer and
an honester trade.”
Thus they parted, the outlaws returning in the direction from whence
they had come, and Gurth proceeding to the tent of his master, to whom,
notwithstanding the injunction he had received, he communicated the
whole adventures of the evening.
The Disinherited Knight was filled with astonishment, no less at the
generosity of Rebecca, by which, however, he resolved he would not
profit, than that of the robbers, to whose profession such a quality
seemed totally foreign. His course of reflections upon these singular
circumstances was, however, interrupted by the necessity for taking
repose, which the fatigue of the preceding day, and the propriety of
refreshing himself for the morrow’s encounter, rendered alike
indispensable.
The knight, therefore, stretched himself for repose upon a rich couch
with which the tent was provided; and the faithful Gurth, extending his
hardy limbs upon a bear-skin which formed a sort of carpet to the
pavilion, laid himself across the opening of the tent, so that no one
could enter without awakening him.
CHAPTER XII
The heralds left their pricking up and down,
Now ringen trumpets loud and clarion.
There is no more to say, but east and west,
In go the speares sadly in the rest,
In goth the sharp spur into the side,
There see men who can just and who can ride;
There shiver shaftes upon shieldes thick,
He feeleth through the heart-spone the prick;
Up springen speares, twenty feet in height,
Out go the swordes to the silver bright;
The helms they to-hewn and to-shred;
Out burst the blood with stern streames red.
CHAUCER
Morning arose in unclouded splendour, and ere the sun was much above
the horizon, the idlest or the most eager of the spectators appeared on
the common, moving to the lists as to a general centre, in order to
secure a favourable situation for viewing the continuation of the
expected games.
The marshals and their attendants appeared next on the field, together
with the heralds, for the purpose of receiving the names of the knights
who intended to joust, with the side which each chose to espouse. This
was a necessary precaution, in order to secure equality betwixt the two
bodies who should be opposed to each other.
According to due formality, the Disinherited Knight was to be
considered as leader of the one body, while Brian de Bois-Guilbert, who
had been rated as having done second-best in the preceding day, was
named first champion of the other band. Those who had concurred in the
challenge adhered to his party of course, excepting only Ralph de
Vipont, whom his fall had rendered unfit so soon to put on his armour.
There was no want of distinguished and noble candidates to fill up the
ranks on either side.
In fact, although the general tournament, in which all knights fought
at once, was more dangerous than single encounters, they were,
nevertheless, more frequented and practised by the chivalry of the age.
Many knights, who had not sufficient confidence in their own skill to
defy a single adversary of high reputation, were, nevertheless,
desirous of displaying their valour in the general combat, where they
might meet others with whom they were more upon an equality. On the
present occasion, about fifty knights were inscribed as desirous of
combating upon each side, when the marshals declared that no more could
be admitted, to the disappointment of several who were too late in
preferring their claim to be included.
About the hour of ten o’clock, the whole plain was crowded with
horsemen, horsewomen, and foot-passengers, hastening to the tournament;
and shortly after, a grand flourish of trumpets announced Prince John
and his retinue, attended by many of those knights who meant to take
share in the game, as well as others who had no such intention.
About the same time arrived Cedric the Saxon, with the Lady Rowena,
unattended, however, by Athelstane. This Saxon lord had arrayed his
tall and strong person in armour, in order to take his place among the
combatants; and, considerably to the surprise of Cedric, had chosen to
enlist himself on the part of the Knight Templar. The Saxon, indeed,
had remonstrated strongly with his friend upon the injudicious choice
he had made of his party; but he had only received that sort of answer
usually given by those who are more obstinate in following their own
course, than strong in justifying it.
His best, if not his only reason, for adhering to the party of Brian de
Bois-Guilbert, Athelstane had the prudence to keep to himself. Though
his apathy of disposition prevented his taking any means to recommend
himself to the Lady Rowena, he was, nevertheless, by no means
insensible to her charms, and considered his union with her as a matter
already fixed beyond doubt, by the assent of Cedric and her other
friends. It had therefore been with smothered displeasure that the
proud though indolent Lord of Coningsburgh beheld the victor of the
preceding day select Rowena as the object of that honour which it
became his privilege to confer. In order to punish him for a preference
which seemed to interfere with his own suit, Athelstane, confident of
his strength, and to whom his flatterers, at least, ascribed great
skill in arms, had determined not only to deprive the Disinherited
Knight of his powerful succour, but, if an opportunity should occur, to
make him feel the weight of his battle-axe.
De Bracy, and other knights attached to Prince John, in obedience to a
hint from him, had joined the party of the challengers, John being
desirous to secure, if possible, the victory to that side. On the other
hand, many other knights, both English and Norman, natives and
strangers, took part against the challengers, the more readily that the
opposite band was to be led by so distinguished a champion as the
Disinherited Knight had approved himself.
As soon as Prince John observed that the destined Queen of the day had
arrived upon the field, assuming that air of courtesy which sat well
upon him when he was pleased to exhibit it, he rode forward to meet
her, doffed his bonnet, and, alighting from his horse, assisted the
Lady Rowena from her saddle, while his followers uncovered at the same
time, and one of the most distinguished dismounted to hold her palfrey.
“It is thus,” said Prince John, “that we set the dutiful example of
loyalty to the Queen of Love and Beauty, and are ourselves her guide to
the throne which she must this day occupy.—Ladies,” he said, “attend
your Queen, as you wish in your turn to be distinguished by like
honours.”
So saying, the Prince marshalled Rowena to the seat of honour opposite
his own, while the fairest and most distinguished ladies present
crowded after her to obtain places as near as possible to their
temporary sovereign.
No sooner was Rowena seated, than a burst of music, half-drowned by the
shouts of the multitude, greeted her new dignity. Meantime, the sun
shone fierce and bright upon the polished arms of the knights of either
side, who crowded the opposite extremities of the lists, and held eager
conference together concerning the best mode of arranging their line of
battle, and supporting the conflict.
The heralds then proclaimed silence until the laws of the tourney
should be rehearsed. These were calculated in some degree to abate the
dangers of the day; a precaution the more necessary, as the conflict
was to be maintained with sharp swords and pointed lances.
The champions were therefore prohibited to thrust with the sword, and
were confined to striking. A knight, it was announced, might use a mace
or battle-axe at pleasure, but the dagger was a prohibited weapon. A
knight unhorsed might renew the fight on foot with any other on the
opposite side in the same predicament; but mounted horsemen were in
that case forbidden to assail him. When any knight could force his
antagonist to the extremity of the lists, so as to touch the palisade
with his person or arms, such opponent was obliged to yield himself
vanquished, and his armour and horse were placed at the disposal of the
conqueror. A knight thus overcome was not permitted to take farther
share in the combat. If any combatant was struck down, and unable to
recover his feet, his squire or page might enter the lists, and drag
his master out of the press; but in that case the knight was adjudged
vanquished, and his arms and horse declared forfeited. The combat was
to cease as soon as Prince John should throw down his leading staff, or
truncheon; another precaution usually taken to prevent the unnecessary
effusion of blood by the too long endurance of a sport so desperate.
Any knight breaking the rules of the tournament, or otherwise
transgressing the rules of honourable chivalry, was liable to be stript
of his arms, and, having his shield reversed to be placed in that
posture astride upon the bars of the palisade, and exposed to public
derision, in punishment of his unknightly conduct. Having announced
these precautions, the heralds concluded with an exhortation to each
good knight to do his duty, and to merit favour from the Queen of
Beauty and of Love.
This proclamation having been made, the heralds withdrew to their
stations. The knights, entering at either end of the lists in long
procession, arranged themselves in a double file, precisely opposite to
each other, the leader of each party being in the centre of the
foremost rank, a post which he did not occupy until each had carefully
marshalled the ranks of his party, and stationed every one in his
place.
It was a goodly, and at the same time an anxious, sight, to behold so
many gallant champions, mounted bravely, and armed richly, stand ready
prepared for an encounter so formidable, seated on their war-saddles
like so many pillars of iron, and awaiting the signal of encounter with
the same ardour as their generous steeds, which, by neighing and pawing
the ground, gave signal of their impatience.
As yet the knights held their long lances upright, their bright points
glancing to the sun, and the streamers with which they were decorated
fluttering over the plumage of the helmets. Thus they remained while
the marshals of the field surveyed their ranks with the utmost
exactness, lest either party had more or fewer than the appointed
number. The tale was found exactly complete. The marshals then withdrew
from the lists, and William de Wyvil, with a voice of thunder,
pronounced the signal words—“Laissez aller!” The trumpets sounded as he
spoke—the spears of the champions were at once lowered and placed in
the rests—the spurs were dashed into the flanks of the horses, and the
two foremost ranks of either party rushed upon each other in full
gallop, and met in the middle of the lists with a shock, the sound of
which was heard at a mile’s distance. The rear rank of each party
advanced at a slower pace to sustain the defeated, and follow up the
success of the victors of their party.
The consequences of the encounter were not instantly seen, for the dust
raised by the trampling of so many steeds darkened the air, and it was
a minute ere the anxious spectator could see the fate of the encounter.
When the fight became visible, half the knights on each side were
dismounted, some by the dexterity of their adversary’s lance,—some by
the superior weight and strength of opponents, which had borne down
both horse and man,—some lay stretched on earth as if never more to
rise,—some had already gained their feet, and were closing hand to hand