Ivanhoe: A Romance
unfortunate Harold, then advancing against the Norwegians, who had
united themselves to the rebel Tosti. It was in this hall that Harold
returned the magnanimous answer to the ambassador of his rebel brother.
Oft have I heard my father kindle as he told the tale. The envoy of
Tosti was admitted, when this ample room could scarce contain the crowd
of noble Saxon leaders, who were quaffing the blood-red wine around
their monarch.”
“I hope,” said Athelstane, somewhat moved by this part of his friend’s
discourse, “they will not forget to send us some wine and refactions at
noon—we had scarce a breathing-space allowed to break our fast, and I
never have the benefit of my food when I eat immediately after
dismounting from horseback, though the leeches recommend that
practice.”
Cedric went on with his story without noticing this interjectional
observation of his friend.
“The envoy of Tosti,” he said, “moved up the hall, undismayed by the
frowning countenances of all around him, until he made his obeisance
before the throne of King Harold.
“‘What terms,’ he said, ‘Lord King, hath thy brother Tosti to hope, if
he should lay down his arms, and crave peace at thy hands?’
“‘A brother’s love,’ cried the generous Harold, ‘and the fair earldom
of Northumberland.’
“‘But should Tosti accept these terms,’ continued the envoy, ‘what
lands shall be assigned to his faithful ally, Hardrada, King of
Norway?’
“‘Seven feet of English ground,’ answered Harold, fiercely, ‘or, as
Hardrada is said to be a giant, perhaps we may allow him twelve inches
more.’
“The hall rung with acclamations, and cup and horn was filled to the
Norwegian, who should be speedily in possession of his English
territory.”
“I could have pledged him with all my soul,” said Athelstane, “for my
tongue cleaves to my palate.”
“The baffled envoy,” continued Cedric, pursuing with animation his
tale, though it interested not the listener, “retreated, to carry to
Tosti and his ally the ominous answer of his injured brother. It was
then that the distant towers of York, and the bloody streams of the
Derwent, 26 beheld that direful conflict, in which, after displaying
the most undaunted valour, the King of Norway, and Tosti, both fell,
with ten thousand of their bravest followers. Who would have thought
that upon the proud day when this battle was won, the very gale which
waved the Saxon banners in triumph, was filling the Norman sails, and
impelling them to the fatal shores of Sussex?—Who would have thought
that Harold, within a few brief days, would himself possess no more of
his kingdom, than the share which he allotted in his wrath to the
Norwegian invader?—Who would have thought that you, noble
Athelstane—that you, descended of Harold’s blood, and that I, whose
father was not the worst defender of the Saxon crown, should be
prisoners to a vile Norman, in the very hall in which our ancestors
held such high festival?”
“It is sad enough,” replied Athelstane; “but I trust they will hold us
to a moderate ransom—At any rate it cannot be their purpose to starve
us outright; and yet, although it is high noon, I see no preparations
for serving dinner. Look up at the window, noble Cedric, and judge by
the sunbeams if it is not on the verge of noon.”
“It may be so,” answered Cedric; “but I cannot look on that stained
lattice without its awakening other reflections than those which
concern the passing moment, or its privations. When that window was
wrought, my noble friend, our hardy fathers knew not the art of making
glass, or of staining it—The pride of Wolfganger’s father brought an
artist from Normandy to adorn his hall with this new species of
emblazonment, that breaks the golden light of God’s blessed day into so
many fantastic hues. The foreigner came here poor, beggarly, cringing,
and subservient, ready to doff his cap to the meanest native of the
household. He returned pampered and proud, to tell his rapacious
countrymen of the wealth and the simplicity of the Saxon nobles—a
folly, oh, Athelstane, foreboded of old, as well as foreseen, by those
descendants of Hengist and his hardy tribes, who retained the
simplicity of their manners. We made these strangers our bosom friends,
our confidential servants; we borrowed their artists and their arts,
and despised the honest simplicity and hardihood with which our brave
ancestors supported themselves, and we became enervated by Norman arts
long ere we fell under Norman arms. Far better was our homely diet,
eaten in peace and liberty, than the luxurious dainties, the love of
which hath delivered us as bondsmen to the foreign conqueror!”
“I should,” replied Athelstane, “hold very humble diet a luxury at
present; and it astonishes me, noble Cedric, that you can bear so truly
in mind the memory of past deeds, when it appeareth you forget the very
hour of dinner.”
“It is time lost,” muttered Cedric apart and impatiently, “to speak to
him of aught else but that which concerns his appetite! The soul of
Hardicanute hath taken possession of him, and he hath no pleasure save
to fill, to swill, and to call for more.—Alas!” said he, looking at
Athelstane with compassion, “that so dull a spirit should be lodged in
so goodly a form! Alas! that such an enterprise as the regeneration of
England should turn on a hinge so imperfect! Wedded to Rowena, indeed,
her nobler and more generous soul may yet awake the better nature which
is torpid within him. Yet how should this be, while Rowena, Athelstane,
and I myself, remain the prisoners of this brutal marauder and have
been made so perhaps from a sense of the dangers which our liberty
might bring to the usurped power of his nation?”
While the Saxon was plunged in these painful reflections, the door of
their prison opened, and gave entrance to a sewer, holding his white
rod of office. This important person advanced into the chamber with a
grave pace, followed by four attendants, bearing in a table covered
with dishes, the sight and smell of which seemed to be an instant
compensation to Athelstane for all the inconvenience he had undergone.
The persons who attended on the feast were masked and cloaked.
“What mummery is this?” said Cedric; “think you that we are ignorant
whose prisoners we are, when we are in the castle of your master? Tell
him,” he continued, willing to use this opportunity to open a
negotiation for his freedom,—“Tell your master, Reginald Front-de-Bœuf,
that we know no reason he can have for withholding our liberty,
excepting his unlawful desire to enrich himself at our expense. Tell
him that we yield to his rapacity, as in similar circumstances we
should do to that of a literal robber. Let him name the ransom at which
he rates our liberty, and it shall be paid, providing the exaction is
suited to our means.” The sewer made no answer, but bowed his head.
“And tell Sir Reginald Front-de-Bœuf,” said Athelstane, “that I send
him my mortal defiance, and challenge him to combat with me, on foot or
horseback, at any secure place, within eight days after our liberation;
which, if he be a true knight, he will not, under these circumstances,
venture to refuse or to delay.”
“I shall deliver to the knight your defiance,” answered the sewer;
“meanwhile I leave you to your food.”
The challenge of Athelstane was delivered with no good grace; for a
large mouthful, which required the exercise of both jaws at once, added
to a natural hesitation, considerably damped the effect of the bold
defiance it contained. Still, however, his speech was hailed by Cedric
as an incontestible token of reviving spirit in his companion, whose
previous indifference had begun, notwithstanding his respect for
Athelstane’s descent, to wear out his patience. But he now cordially
shook hands with him in token of his approbation, and was somewhat
grieved when Athelstane observed, “that he would fight a dozen such men
as Front-de-Bœuf, if, by so doing, he could hasten his departure from a
dungeon where they put so much garlic into their pottage.”
Notwithstanding this intimation of a relapse into the apathy of
sensuality, Cedric placed himself opposite to Athelstane, and soon
showed, that if the distresses of his country could banish the
recollection of food while the table was uncovered, yet no sooner were
the victuals put there, than he proved that the appetite of his Saxon
ancestors had descended to him along with their other qualities.
The captives had not long enjoyed their refreshment, however, ere their
attention was disturbed even from this most serious occupation by the
blast of a horn winded before the gate. It was repeated three times,
with as much violence as if it had been blown before an enchanted
castle by the destined knight, at whose summons halls and towers,
barbican and battlement, were to roll off like a morning vapour. The
Saxons started from the table, and hastened to the window. But their
curiosity was disappointed; for these outlets only looked upon the
court of the castle, and the sound came from beyond its precincts. The
summons, however, seemed of importance, for a considerable degree of
bustle instantly took place in the castle.
CHAPTER XXII
My daughter—O my ducats—O my daughter!
———O my Christian ducats!
Justice—the Law—my ducats, and my daughter!
MERCHANT OF VENICE
Leaving the Saxon chiefs to return to their banquet as soon as their
ungratified curiosity should permit them to attend to the calls of
their half-satiated appetite, we have to look in upon the yet more
severe imprisonment of Isaac of York. The poor Jew had been hastily
thrust into a dungeon-vault of the castle, the floor of which was deep
beneath the level of the ground, and very damp, being lower than even
the moat itself. The only light was received through one or two
loop-holes far above the reach of the captive’s hand. These apertures
admitted, even at mid-day, only a dim and uncertain light, which was
changed for utter darkness long before the rest of the castle had lost
the blessing of day. Chains and shackles, which had been the portion of
former captives, from whom active exertions to escape had been
apprehended, hung rusted and empty on the walls of the prison, and in
the rings of one of those sets of fetters there remained two mouldering
bones, which seemed to have been once those of the human leg, as if
some prisoner had been left not only to perish there, but to be
consumed to a skeleton.
At one end of this ghastly apartment was a large fire-grate, over the
top of which were stretched some transverse iron bars, half devoured
with rust.
The whole appearance of the dungeon might have appalled a stouter heart
than that of Isaac, who, nevertheless, was more composed under the
imminent pressure of danger, than he had seemed to be while affected by
terrors, of which the cause was as yet remote and contingent. The
lovers of the chase say that the hare feels more agony during the
pursuit of the greyhounds, than when she is struggling in their fangs.
27
And thus it is probable, that the Jews, by the very frequency of their
fear on all occasions, had their minds in some degree prepared for
every effort of tyranny which could be practised upon them; so that no
aggression, when it had taken place, could bring with it that surprise
which is the most disabling quality of terror. Neither was it the first
time that Isaac had been placed in circumstances so dangerous. He had
therefore experience to guide him, as well as hope, that he might
again, as formerly, be delivered as a prey from the fowler. Above all,
he had upon his side the unyielding obstinacy of his nation, and that
unbending resolution, with which Israelites have been frequently known
to submit to the uttermost evils which power and violence can inflict