Ivanhoe: A Romance
Samuel; and both had approached as near to the Preceptory as they
dared, on hearing that the Grand Master had summoned a chapter for the
trial of a sorceress.
“Brother Ben Samuel,” said Isaac, “my soul is disquieted, and I wot not
why. This charge of necromancy is right often used for cloaking evil
practices on our people.”
“Be of good comfort, brother,” said the physician; “thou canst deal
with the Nazarenes as one possessing the mammon of unrighteousness, and
canst therefore purchase immunity at their hands—it rules the savage
minds of those ungodly men, even as the signet of the mighty Solomon
was said to command the evil genii.—But what poor wretch comes hither
upon his crutches, desiring, as I think, some speech of me?—Friend,”
continued the physician, addressing Higg, the son of Snell, “I refuse
thee not the aid of mine art, but I relieve not with one asper those
who beg for alms upon the highway. Out upon thee!—Hast thou the palsy
in thy legs? then let thy hands work for thy livelihood; for, albeit
thou be’st unfit for a speedy post, or for a careful shepherd, or for
the warfare, or for the service of a hasty master, yet there be
occupations—How now, brother?” said he, interrupting his harangue to
look towards Isaac, who had but glanced at the scroll which Higg
offered, when, uttering a deep groan, he fell from his mule like a
dying man, and lay for a minute insensible.
The Rabbi now dismounted in great alarm, and hastily applied the
remedies which his art suggested for the recovery of his companion. He
had even taken from his pocket a cupping apparatus, and was about to
proceed to phlebotomy, when the object of his anxious solicitude
suddenly revived; but it was to dash his cap from his head, and to
throw dust on his grey hairs. The physician was at first inclined to
ascribe this sudden and violent emotion to the effects of insanity;
and, adhering to his original purpose, began once again to handle his
implements. But Isaac soon convinced him of his error.
“Child of my sorrow,” he said, “well shouldst thou be called Benoni,
instead of Rebecca! Why should thy death bring down my grey hairs to
the grave, till, in the bitterness of my heart, I curse God and die!”
“Brother,” said the Rabbi, in great surprise, “art thou a father in
Israel, and dost thou utter words like unto these?—I trust that the
child of thy house yet liveth?”
“She liveth,” answered Isaac; “but it is as Daniel, who was called
Beltheshazzar, even when within the den of the lions. She is captive
unto those men of Belial, and they will wreak their cruelty upon her,
sparing neither for her youth nor her comely favour. O! she was as a
crown of green palms to my grey locks; and she must wither in a night,
like the gourd of Jonah!—Child of my love!—child of my old age!—oh,
Rebecca, daughter of Rachel! the darkness of the shadow of death hath
encompassed thee.”
“Yet read the scroll,” said the Rabbi; “peradventure it may be that we
may yet find out a way of deliverance.”
“Do thou read, brother,” answered Isaac, “for mine eyes are as a
fountain of water.”
The physician read, but in their native language, the following words:—
“To Isaac, the son of Adonikam, whom the Gentiles call Isaac of York,
peace and the blessing of the promise be multiplied unto thee!—My
father, I am as one doomed to die for that which my soul knoweth
not—even for the crime of witchcraft. My father, if a strong man can be
found to do battle for my cause with sword and spear, according to the
custom of the Nazarenes, and that within the lists of Templestowe, on
the third day from this time, peradventure our fathers’ God will give
him strength to defend the innocent, and her who hath none to help her.
But if this may not be, let the virgins of our people mourn for me as
for one cast off, and for the hart that is stricken by the hunter, and
for the flower which is cut down by the scythe of the mower. Wherefore
look now what thou doest, and whether there be any rescue. One Nazarene
warrior might indeed bear arms in my behalf, even Wilfred, son of
Cedric, whom the Gentiles call Ivanhoe. But he may not yet endure the
weight of his armour. Nevertheless, send the tidings unto him, my
father; for he hath favour among the strong men of his people, and as
he was our companion in the house of bondage, he may find some one to
do battle for my sake. And say unto him, even unto him, even unto
Wilfred, the son of Cedric, that if Rebecca live, or if Rebecca die,
she liveth or dieth wholly free of the guilt she is charged withal. And
if it be the will of God that thou shalt be deprived of thy daughter,
do not thou tarry, old man, in this land of bloodshed and cruelty; but
betake thyself to Cordova, where thy brother liveth in safety, under
the shadow of the throne, even of the throne of Boabdil the Saracen;
for less cruel are the cruelties of the Moors unto the race of Jacob,
than the cruelties of the Nazarenes of England.”
Isaac listened with tolerable composure while Ben Samuel read the
letter, and then again resumed the gestures and exclamations of
Oriental sorrow, tearing his garments, besprinkling his head with dust,
and ejaculating, “My daughter! my daughter! flesh of my flesh, and bone
of my bone!”
“Yet,” said the Rabbi, “take courage, for this grief availeth nothing.
Gird up thy loins, and seek out this Wilfred, the son of Cedric. It may
be he will help thee with counsel or with strength; for the youth hath
favour in the eyes of Richard, called of the Nazarenes Cœur-de-Lion,
and the tidings that he hath returned are constant in the land. It may
be that he may obtain his letter, and his signet, commanding these men
of blood, who take their name from the Temple to the dishonour thereof,
that they proceed not in their purposed wickedness.”
“I will seek him out,” said Isaac, “for he is a good youth, and hath
compassion for the exile of Jacob. But he cannot bear his armour, and
what other Christian shall do battle for the oppressed of Zion?”
“Nay, but,” said the Rabbi, “thou speakest as one that knoweth not the
Gentiles. With gold shalt thou buy their valour, even as with gold thou
buyest thine own safety. Be of good courage, and do thou set forward to
find out this Wilfred of Ivanhoe. I will also up and be doing, for
great sin it were to leave thee in thy calamity. I will hie me to the
city of York, where many warriors and strong men are assembled, and
doubt not I will find among them some one who will do battle for thy
daughter; for gold is their god, and for riches will they pawn their
lives as well as their lands.—Thou wilt fulfil, my brother, such
promise as I may make unto them in thy name?”
“Assuredly, brother,” said Isaac, “and Heaven be praised that raised me
up a comforter in my misery. Howbeit, grant them not their full demand
at once, for thou shalt find it the quality of this accursed people
that they will ask pounds, and peradventure accept of
ounces—Nevertheless, be it as thou willest, for I am distracted in this
thing, and what would my gold avail me if the child of my love should
perish!”
“Farewell,” said the physician, “and may it be to thee as thy heart
desireth.”
They embraced accordingly, and departed on their several roads. The
crippled peasant remained for some time looking after them.
“These dog-Jews!” said he; “to take no more notice of a free
guild-brother, than if I were a bond slave or a Turk, or a circumcised
Hebrew like themselves! They might have flung me a mancus or two,
however. I was not obliged to bring their unhallowed scrawls, and run
the risk of being bewitched, as more folks than one told me. And what
care I for the bit of gold that the wench gave me, if I am to come to
harm from the priest next Easter at confession, and be obliged to give
him twice as much to make it up with him, and be called the Jew’s
flying post all my life, as it may hap, into the bargain? I think I was
bewitched in earnest when I was beside that girl!—But it was always so
with Jew or Gentile, whosoever came near her—none could stay when she
had an errand to go—and still, whenever I think of her, I would give
shop and tools to save her life.”
CHAPTER XXXIX
O maid, unrelenting and cold as thou art,
My bosom is proud as thine own.
SEWARD
It was in the twilight of the day when her trial, if it could be called
such, had taken place, that a low knock was heard at the door of
Rebecca’s prison-chamber. It disturbed not the inmate, who was then
engaged in the evening prayer recommended by her religion, and which
concluded with a hymn we have ventured thus to translate into English.
When Israel, of the Lord beloved,
Out of the land of bondage came,
Her father’s God before her moved,
An awful guide, in smoke and flame.
By day, along the astonish’d lands
The cloudy pillar glided slow;
By night, Arabia’s crimson’d sands
Return’d the fiery column’s glow.
There rose the choral hymn of praise,
And trump and timbrel answer’d keen,
And Zion’s daughters pour’d their lays,
With priest’s and warrior’s voice between.
No portents now our foes amaze,
Forsaken Israel wanders lone;
Our fathers would not know THY ways,
And THOU hast left them to their own.
But, present still, though now unseen;
When brightly shines the prosperous day,
Be thoughts of THEE a cloudy screen
To temper the deceitful ray.
And oh, when stoops on Judah’s path
In shade and storm the frequent night,
Be THOU, long-suffering, slow to wrath,
A burning, and a shining light!
Our harps we left by Babel’s streams,
The tyrant’s jest, the Gentile’s scorn;
No censer round our altar beams,
And mute our timbrel, trump, and horn.
But THOU hast said, the blood of goat,
The flesh of rams, I will not prize;
A contrite heart, and humble thought,
Are mine accepted sacrifice.
When the sounds of Rebecca’s devotional hymn had died away in silence,
the low knock at the door was again renewed. “Enter,” she said, “if
thou art a friend; and if a foe, I have not the means of refusing thy
entrance.”
“I am,” said Brian de Bois-Guilbert, entering the apartment, “friend or
foe, Rebecca, as the event of this interview shall make me.”
Alarmed at the sight of this man, whose licentious passion she
considered as the root of her misfortunes, Rebecca drew backward with a
cautious and alarmed, yet not a timorous demeanour, into the farthest
corner of the apartment, as if determined to retreat as far as she
could, but to stand her ground when retreat became no longer possible.
She drew herself into an attitude not of defiance, but of resolution,
as one that would avoid provoking assault, yet was resolute to repel
it, being offered, to the utmost of her power.
“You have no reason to fear me, Rebecca,” said the Templar; “or if I
must so qualify my speech, you have at least NOW no reason to fear me.”
“I fear you not, Sir Knight,” replied Rebecca, although her short-drawn
breath seemed to belie the heroism of her accents; “my trust is strong,
and I fear thee not.”
“You have no cause,” answered Bois-Guilbert, gravely; “my former
frantic attempts you have not now to dread. Within your call are
guards, over whom I have no authority. They are designed to conduct you
to death, Rebecca, yet would not suffer you to be insulted by any one,
even by me, were my frenzy—for frenzy it is—to urge me so far.”
“May Heaven be praised!” said the Jewess; “death is the least of my
apprehensions in this den of evil.”
“Ay,” replied the Templar, “the idea of death is easily received by the
courageous mind, when the road to it is sudden and open. A thrust with
a lance, a stroke with a sword, were to me little—To you, a spring from
a dizzy battlement, a stroke with a sharp poniard, has no terrors,