Ivanhoe: A Romance
cast-off garments of the knights,) entered the garden, and, bowing
profoundly before the Grand Master, stood silent, awaiting his
permission ere he presumed to tell his errand.
“Is it not more seemly,” said the Grand Master, “to see this Damian,
clothed in the garments of Christian humility, thus appear with
reverend silence before his Superior, than but two days since, when the
fond fool was decked in a painted coat, and jangling as pert and as
proud as any popinjay?—Speak, Damian, we permit thee—What is thine
errand?”
“A Jew stands without the gate, noble and reverend father,” said the
Squire, “who prays to speak with brother Brian de Bois-Guilbert.”
“Thou wert right to give me knowledge of it,” said the Grand Master;
“in our presence a Preceptor is but as a common compeer of our Order,
who may not walk according to his own will, but to that of his
Master—even according to the text, ‘In the hearing of the ear he hath
obeyed me.’—It imports us especially to know of this Bois-Guilbert’s
proceedings,” said he, turning to his companion.
“Report speaks him brave and valiant,” said Conrade.
“And truly is he so spoken of,” said the Grand Master; “in our valour
only we are not degenerated from our predecessors, the heroes of the
Cross. But brother Brian came into our Order a moody and disappointed
man, stirred, I doubt me, to take our vows and to renounce the world,
not in sincerity of soul, but as one whom some touch of light
discontent had driven into penitence. Since then, he hath become an
active and earnest agitator, a murmurer, and a machinator, and a leader
amongst those who impugn our authority; not considering that the rule
is given to the Master even by the symbol of the staff and the rod—the
staff to support the infirmities of the weak—the rod to correct the
faults of delinquents.—Damian,” he continued, “lead the Jew to our
presence.”
The squire departed with a profound reverence, and in a few minutes
returned, marshalling in Isaac of York. No naked slave, ushered into
the presence of some mighty prince, could approach his judgment-seat
with more profound reverence and terror than that with which the Jew
drew near to the presence of the Grand Master. When he had approached
within the distance of three yards, Beaumanoir made a sign with his
staff that he should come no farther. The Jew kneeled down on the earth
which he kissed in token of reverence; then rising, stood before the
Templars, his hands folded on his bosom, his head bowed on his breast,
in all the submission of Oriental slavery.
“Damian,” said the Grand Master, “retire, and have a guard ready to
await our sudden call; and suffer no one to enter the garden until we
shall leave it.”—The squire bowed and retreated.—“Jew,” continued the
haughty old man, “mark me. It suits not our condition to hold with thee
long communication, nor do we waste words or time upon any one.
Wherefore be brief in thy answers to what questions I shall ask thee,
and let thy words be of truth; for if thy tongue doubles with me, I
will have it torn from thy misbelieving jaws.”
The Jew was about to reply, but the Grand Master went on.
“Peace, unbeliever!—not a word in our presence, save in answer to our
questions.—What is thy business with our brother Brian de
Bois-Guilbert?”
Isaac gasped with terror and uncertainty. To tell his tale might be
interpreted into scandalizing the Order; yet, unless he told it, what
hope could he have of achieving his daughter’s deliverance? Beaumanoir
saw his mortal apprehension, and condescended to give him some
assurance.
“Fear nothing,” he said, “for thy wretched person, Jew, so thou dealest
uprightly in this matter. I demand again to know from thee thy business
with Brian de Bois-Guilbert?”
“I am bearer of a letter,” stammered out the Jew, “so please your
reverend valour, to that good knight, from Prior Aymer of the Abbey of
Jorvaulx.”
“Said I not these were evil times, Conrade?” said the Master. “A
Cistertian Prior sends a letter to a soldier of the Temple, and can
find no more fitting messenger than an unbelieving Jew.—Give me the
letter.”
The Jew, with trembling hands, undid the folds of his Armenian cap, in
which he had deposited the Prior’s tablets for the greater security,
and was about to approach, with hand extended and body crouched, to
place it within the reach of his grim interrogator.
“Back, dog!” said the Grand Master; “I touch not misbelievers, save
with the sword.—Conrade, take thou the letter from the Jew, and give it
to me.”
Beaumanoir, being thus possessed of the tablets, inspected the outside
carefully, and then proceeded to undo the packthread which secured its
folds. “Reverend father,” said Conrade, interposing, though with much
deference, “wilt thou break the seal?”
“And will I not?” said Beaumanoir, with a frown. “Is it not written in
the forty-second capital, ‘De Lectione Literarum’ that a Templar shall
not receive a letter, no not from his father, without communicating the
same to the Grand Master, and reading it in his presence?”
He then perused the letter in haste, with an expression of surprise and
horror; read it over again more slowly; then holding it out to Conrade
with one hand, and slightly striking it with the other, exclaimed—“Here
is goodly stuff for one Christian man to write to another, and both
members, and no inconsiderable members, of religious professions!
When,” said he solemnly, and looking upward, “wilt thou come with thy
fanners to purge the thrashing-floor?”
Mont-Fitchet took the letter from his Superior, and was about to peruse
it.
“Read it aloud, Conrade,” said the Grand Master,—“and do thou” (to
Isaac) “attend to the purport of it, for we will question thee
concerning it.”
Conrade read the letter, which was in these words: “Aymer, by divine
grace, Prior of the Cistertian house of Saint Mary’s of Jorvaulx, to
Sir Brian de Bois-Guilbert, a Knight of the holy Order of the Temple,
wisheth health, with the bounties of King Bacchus and of my Lady Venus.
Touching our present condition, dear Brother, we are a captive in the
hands of certain lawless and godless men, who have not feared to detain
our person, and put us to ransom; whereby we have also learned of
Front-de-Bœuf’s misfortune, and that thou hast escaped with that fair
Jewish sorceress, whose black eyes have bewitched thee. We are heartily
rejoiced of thy safety; nevertheless, we pray thee to be on thy guard
in the matter of this second Witch of Endor; for we are privately
assured that your Great Master, who careth not a bean for cherry cheeks
and black eyes, comes from Normandy to diminish your mirth, and amend
your misdoings. Wherefore we pray you heartily to beware, and to be
found watching, even as the Holy Text hath it, ‘Invenientur
vigilantes’. And the wealthy Jew her father, Isaac of York, having
prayed of me letters in his behalf, I gave him these, earnestly
advising, and in a sort entreating, that you do hold the damsel to
ransom, seeing he will pay you from his bags as much as may find fifty
damsels upon safer terms, whereof I trust to have my part when we make
merry together, as true brothers, not forgetting the wine-cup. For what
saith the text, ‘Vinum laetificat cor hominis’; and again, ‘Rex
delectabitur pulchritudine tua’.
“Till which merry meeting, we wish you farewell. Given from this den of
thieves, about the hour of matins,
“Aymer Pr. S. M. Jorvolciencis.
“‘Postscriptum.’ Truly your golden chain hath not long abidden with me,
and will now sustain, around the neck of an outlaw deer-stealer, the
whistle wherewith he calleth on his hounds.”
“What sayest thou to this, Conrade?” said the Grand Master—“Den of
thieves! and a fit residence is a den of thieves for such a Prior. No
wonder that the hand of God is upon us, and that in the Holy Land we
lose place by place, foot by foot, before the infidels, when we have
such churchmen as this Aymer.—And what meaneth he, I trow, by this
second Witch of Endor?” said he to his confident, something apart.
Conrade was better acquainted (perhaps by practice) with the jargon of
gallantry, than was his Superior; and he expounded the passage which
embarrassed the Grand Master, to be a sort of language used by worldly
men towards those whom they loved ‘par amours’; but the explanation did
not satisfy the bigoted Beaumanoir.
“There is more in it than thou dost guess, Conrade; thy simplicity is
no match for this deep abyss of wickedness. This Rebecca of York was a
pupil of that Miriam of whom thou hast heard. Thou shalt hear the Jew
own it even now.” Then turning to Isaac, he said aloud, “Thy daughter,
then, is prisoner with Brian de Bois-Guilbert?”
“Ay, reverend valorous sir,” stammered poor Isaac, “and whatsoever
ransom a poor man may pay for her deliverance—-”
“Peace!” said the Grand Master. “This thy daughter hath practised the
art of healing, hath she not?”
“Ay, gracious sir,” answered the Jew, with more confidence; “and knight
and yeoman, squire and vassal, may bless the goodly gift which Heaven
hath assigned to her. Many a one can testify that she hath recovered
them by her art, when every other human aid hath proved vain; but the
blessing of the God of Jacob was upon her.”
Beaumanoir turned to Mont-Fitchet with a grim smile. “See, brother,” he
said, “the deceptions of the devouring Enemy! Behold the baits with
which he fishes for souls, giving a poor space of earthly life in
exchange for eternal happiness hereafter. Well said our blessed rule,
‘Semper percutiatur leo vorans’.—Up on the lion! Down with the
destroyer!” said he, shaking aloft his mystic abacus, as if in defiance
of the powers of darkness—“Thy daughter worketh the cures, I doubt
not,” thus he went on to address the Jew, “by words and sighs, and
periapts, and other cabalistical mysteries.”
“Nay, reverend and brave Knight,” answered Isaac, “but in chief measure
by a balsam of marvellous virtue.”
“Where had she that secret?” said Beaumanoir.
“It was delivered to her,” answered Isaac, reluctantly, “by Miriam, a
sage matron of our tribe.”
“Ah, false Jew!” said the Grand Master; “was it not from that same
witch Miriam, the abomination of whose enchantments have been heard of
throughout every Christian land?” exclaimed the Grand Master, crossing
himself. “Her body was burnt at a stake, and her ashes were scattered
to the four winds; and so be it with me and mine Order, if I do not as
much to her pupil, and more also! I will teach her to throw spell and
incantation over the soldiers of the blessed Temple.—There, Damian,
spurn this Jew from the gate—shoot him dead if he oppose or turn again.
With his daughter we will deal as the Christian law and our own high
office warrant.”
Poor Isaac was hurried off accordingly, and expelled from the
preceptory; all his entreaties, and even his offers, unheard and
disregarded. He could do not better than return to the house of the
Rabbi, and endeavour, through his means, to learn how his daughter was
to be disposed of. He had hitherto feared for her honour, he was now to
tremble for her life. Meanwhile, the Grand Master ordered to his
presence the Preceptor of Templestowe.
CHAPTER XXXVI
Say not my art is fraud—all live by seeming.
The beggar begs with it, and the gay courtier
Gains land and title, rank and rule, by seeming;
The clergy scorn it not, and the bold soldier
Will eke with it his service.—All admit it,
All practise it; and he who is content
With showing what he is, shall have small credit
In church, or camp, or state—So wags the world.
OLD PLAY
Albert Malvoisin, President, or, in the language of the Order,
Preceptor of the establishment of Templestowe, was brother to that
Philip Malvoisin who has been already occasionally mentioned in this