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voice.

" No. To the barbican, and there wait my orders. I trust thee not, De

Bracy. "

During this combat and the brief conversation which ensued, Cedric, at

the head of a body of men, among whom the Friar was conspicuous, had

pushed across the bridge as soon as they saw the postern open, and drove

back the dispirited and despairing followers of De Bracy, of whom some

asked quarter, some offered vain resistance, and the greater part fled

towards the court-yard. De Bracy himself arose from the ground, and cast

a sorrowful glance after his conqueror. " He trusts me not! " he repeated;

" but have I deserved his trust? " He then lifted his sword from the

floor, took off his helmet in token of submission, and, going to the

barbican, gave up his sword to Locksley, whom he met by the way.

As the fire augmented, symptoms of it became soon apparent in the

chamber, where Ivanhoe was watched and tended by the Jewess Rebecca. He

had been awakened from his brief slumber by the noise of the battle; and

his attendant, who had, at his anxious desire, again placed herself at

the window to watch and report to him the fate of the attack, was

for some time prevented from observing either, by the increase of the

smouldering and stifling vapour. At length the volumes of smoke which

rolled into the apartment--the cries for water, which were heard even

above the din of the battle made them sensible of the progress of this

new danger.

" The castle burns, " said Rebecca; " it burns! --What can we do to save

ourselves? "

" Fly, Rebecca, and save thine own life, " said Ivanhoe, " for no human aid

can avail me. "

" I will not fly, " answered Rebecca; " we will be saved or perish

together--And yet, great God! --my father, my father--what will be his

fate! "

At this moment the door of the apartment flew open, and the Templar

presented himself, --a ghastly figure, for his gilded armour was broken

and bloody, and the plume was partly shorn away, partly burnt from his

casque. " I have found thee, " said he to Rebecca; " thou shalt prove I

will keep my word to share weal and woe with thee--There is but one

path to safety, I have cut my way through fifty dangers to point it to

thee--up, and instantly follow me! " [38]

" Alone, " answered Rebecca, " I will not follow thee. If thou wert born of

woman--if thou hast but a touch of human charity in thee--if thy heart

be not hard as thy breastplate--save my aged father--save this wounded

knight! "

" A knight, " answered the Templar, with his characteristic calmness, " a

knight, Rebecca, must encounter his fate, whether it meet him in the

shape of sword or flame--and who recks how or where a Jew meets with

his? "

" Savage warrior, " said Rebecca, " rather will I perish in the flames than

accept safety from thee! "

" Thou shalt not choose, Rebecca--once didst thou foil me, but never

mortal did so twice. "

So saying, he seized on the terrified maiden, who filled the air with

her shrieks, and bore her out of the room in his arms in spite of her

cries, and without regarding the menaces and defiance which Ivanhoe

thundered against him. " Hound of the Temple--stain to thine Order--set

free the damsel! Traitor of Bois-Guilbert, it is Ivanhoe commands

thee! --Villain, I will have thy heart's blood! "

" I had not found thee, Wilfred, " said the Black Knight, who at that

instant entered the apartment, " but for thy shouts. "

" If thou be'st true knight, " said Wilfred, " think not of me--pursue yon

ravisher--save the Lady Rowena--look to the noble Cedric! "

" In their turn, " answered he of the Fetterlock, " but thine is first. "

And seizing upon Ivanhoe, he bore him off with as much ease as the

Templar had carried off Rebecca, rushed with him to the postern, and

having there delivered his burden to the care of two yeomen, he again

entered the castle to assist in the rescue of the other prisoners.

One turret was now in bright flames, which flashed out furiously from

window and shot-hole. But in other parts, the great thickness of the

walls and the vaulted roofs of the apartments, resisted the progress

of the flames, and there the rage of man still triumphed, as the scarce

more dreadful element held mastery elsewhere; for the besiegers pursued

the defenders of the castle from chamber to chamber, and satiated in

their blood the vengeance which had long animated them against the

soldiers of the tyrant Front-de-Boeuf. Most of the garrison resisted to

the uttermost--few of them asked quarter--none received it. The air was

filled with groans and clashing of arms--the floors were slippery with

the blood of despairing and expiring wretches.

Through this scene of confusion, Cedric rushed in quest of Rowena, while

the faithful Gurth, following him closely through the " melee", neglected

his own safety while he strove to avert the blows that were aimed at

his master. The noble Saxon was so fortunate as to reach his ward's

apartment just as she had abandoned all hope of safety, and, with a

crucifix clasped in agony to her bosom, sat in expectation of instant

death. He committed her to the charge of Gurth, to be conducted in

safety to the barbican, the road to which was now cleared of the enemy,

and not yet interrupted by the flames. This accomplished, the loyal

Cedric hastened in quest of his friend Athelstane, determined, at every

risk to himself, to save that last scion of Saxon royalty. But ere

Cedric penetrated as far as the old hall in which he had himself been

a prisoner, the inventive genius of Wamba had procured liberation for

himself and his companion in adversity.

When the noise of the conflict announced that it was at the hottest, the

Jester began to shout, with the utmost power of his lungs, " Saint George

and the dragon! --Bonny Saint George for merry England! --The castle is

won! " And these sounds he rendered yet more fearful, by banging against

each other two or three pieces of rusty armour which lay scattered

around the hall.

A guard, which had been stationed in the outer, or anteroom, and

whose spirits were already in a state of alarm, took fright at Wamba's

clamour, and, leaving the door open behind them, ran to tell the Templar

that foemen had entered the old hall. Meantime the prisoners found no

difficulty in making their escape into the anteroom, and from thence

into the court of the castle, which was now the last scene of contest.

Here sat the fierce Templar, mounted on horseback, surrounded by several

of the garrison both on horse and foot, who had united their strength

to that of this renowned leader, in order to secure the last chance

of safety and retreat which remained to them. The drawbridge had been

lowered by his orders, but the passage was beset; for the archers, who

had hitherto only annoyed the castle on that side by their missiles, no

sooner saw the flames breaking out, and the bridge lowered, than they

thronged to the entrance, as well to prevent the escape of the garrison,

as to secure their own share of booty ere the castle should be burnt

down. On the other hand, a party of the besiegers who had entered by

the postern were now issuing out into the court-yard, and attacking with

fury the remnant of the defenders who were thus assaulted on both sides

at once.

Animated, however, by despair, and supported by the example of their

indomitable leader, the remaining soldiers of the castle fought with

the utmost valour; and, being well-armed, succeeded more than once in

driving back the assailants, though much inferior in numbers. Rebecca,

placed on horseback before one of the Templar's Saracen slaves, was in

the midst of the little party; and Bois-Guilbert, notwithstanding the

confusion of the bloody fray, showed every attention to her safety.

Repeatedly he was by her side, and, neglecting his own defence, held

before her the fence of his triangular steel-plated shield; and anon

starting from his position by her, he cried his war-cry, dashed forward,

struck to earth the most forward of the assailants, and was on the same

instant once more at her bridle rein.

Athelstane, who, as the reader knows, was slothful, but not cowardly,

beheld the female form whom the Templar protected thus sedulously, and

doubted not that it was Rowena whom the knight was carrying off, in

despite of all resistance which could be offered.

" By the soul of Saint Edward, " he said, " I will rescue her from yonder

over-proud knight, and he shall die by my hand! "

" Think what you do! " cried Wamba; " hasty hand catches frog for fish--by

my bauble, yonder is none of my Lady Rowena--see but her long dark

locks! --Nay, an ye will not know black from white, ye may be leader, but

I will be no follower--no bones of mine shall be broken unless I know

for whom. --And you without armour too! --Bethink you, silk bonnet never

kept out steel blade. --Nay, then, if wilful will to water, wilful must

drench. --'Deus vobiscum', most doughty Athelstane! " --he concluded,

loosening the hold which he had hitherto kept upon the Saxon's tunic.

To snatch a mace from the pavement, on which it lay beside one whose

dying grasp had just relinquished it--to rush on the Templar's band, and

to strike in quick succession to the right and left, levelling a warrior

at each blow, was, for Athelstane's great strength, now animated with

unusual fury, but the work of a single moment; he was soon within two

yards of Bois-Guilbert, whom he defied in his loudest tone.

" Turn, false-hearted Templar! let go her whom thou art unworthy to

touch--turn, limb of a hand of murdering and hypocritical robbers! "

" Dog! " said the Templar, grinding his teeth, " I will teach thee to

blaspheme the holy Order of the Temple of Zion; " and with these words,

half-wheeling his steed, he made a demi-courbette towards the Saxon, and

rising in the stirrups, so as to take full advantage of the descent of

the horse, he discharged a fearful blow upon the head of Athelstane.

Well said Wamba, that silken bonnet keeps out no steel blade. So

trenchant was the Templar's weapon, that it shore asunder, as it had

been a willow twig, the tough and plaited handle of the mace, which the

ill-fated Saxon reared to parry the blow, and, descending on his head,

levelled him with the earth.

" 'Ha! Beau-seant! '" exclaimed Bois-Guilbert, " thus be it to the

maligners of the Temple-knights! " Taking advantage of the dismay which

was spread by the fall of Athelstane, and calling aloud, " Those who

would save themselves, follow me! " he pushed across the drawbridge,

dispersing the archers who would have intercepted them. He was followed

by his Saracens, and some five or six men-at-arms, who had mounted their

horses. The Templar's retreat was rendered perilous by the numbers of

arrows shot off at him and his party; but this did not prevent him from

galloping round to the barbican, of which, according to his previous

plan, he supposed it possible De Bracy might have been in possession.

" De Bracy! De Bracy! " he shouted, " art thou there? "

" I am here, " replied De Bracy, " but I am a prisoner. "

" Can I rescue thee? " cried Bois-Guilbert.

" No, " replied De Bracy; " I have rendered me, rescue or no rescue. I will

be true prisoner. Save thyself--there are hawks abroad--put the seas

betwixt you and England--I dare not say more. "

" Well, " answered the Templar, " an thou wilt tarry there, remember I

have redeemed word and glove. Be the hawks where they will, methinks

the walls of the Preceptory of Templestowe will be cover sufficient, and

thither will I, like heron to her haunt. "

Having thus spoken, he galloped off with his followers.

Those of the castle who had not gotten to horse, still continued

to fight desperately with the besiegers, after the departure of the

Templar, but rather in despair of quarter than that they entertained any

hope of escape. The fire was spreading rapidly through all parts of the

castle, when Ulrica, who had first kindled it, appeared on a turret, in

the guise of one of the ancient furies, yelling forth a war-song, such

as was of yore raised on the field of battle by the scalds of the

yet heathen Saxons. Her long dishevelled grey hair flew back from her

uncovered head; the inebriating delight of gratified vengeance contended

in her eyes with the fire of insanity; and she brandished the distaff

which she held in her hand, as if she had been one of the Fatal Sisters,

who spin and abridge the thread of human life. Tradition has preserved

some wild strophes of the barbarous hymn which she chanted wildly amid

that scene of fire and of slaughter: --

Whet the bright steel,

Sons of the White Dragon!

Kindle the torch,

Daughter of Hengist!

The steel glimmers not for the carving of the banquet,

It is hard, broad, and sharply pointed;

The torch goeth not to the bridal chamber,

It steams and glitters blue with sulphur.

Whet the steel, the raven croaks!

Light the torch, Zernebock is yelling!

Whet the steel, sons of the Dragon!

Kindle the torch, daughter of Hengist!

The black cloud is low over the thane's castle

The eagle screams--he rides on its bosom.

Scream not, grey rider of the sable cloud,

Thy banquet is prepared!

The maidens of Valhalla look forth,

The race of Hengist will send them guests.

Shake your black tresses, maidens of Valhalla!

And strike your loud timbrels for joy!

Many a haughty step bends to your halls,

Many a helmed head.

Dark sits the evening upon the thanes castle,

The black clouds gather round;

Soon shall they be red as the blood of the valiant!

The destroyer of forests shall shake his red crest against

them.

He, the bright consumer of palaces,

Broad waves he his blazing banner,

Red, wide and dusky,

Over the strife of the valiant:

His joy is in the clashing swords and broken bucklers;

He loves to lick the hissing blood as it bursts warm from the

wound!

All must perish!

The sword cleaveth the helmet;

The strong armour is pierced by the lance;

Fire devoureth the dwelling of princes,

Engines break down the fences of the battle.

All must perish!

The race of Hengist is gone--

The name of Horsa is no more!

Shrink not then from your doom, sons of the sword!

Let your blades drink blood like wine;

Feast ye in the banquet of slaughter,

By the light of the blazing halls!

Strong be your swords while your blood is warm,

And spare neither for pity nor fear,

For vengeance hath but an hour;

Strong hate itself shall expire

I also must perish! [39]

The towering flames had now surmounted every obstruction, and rose to

the evening skies one huge and burning beacon, seen far and wide through

the adjacent country. Tower after tower crashed down, with blazing roof

and rafter; and the combatants were driven from the court-yard. The

vanquished, of whom very few remained, scattered and escaped into the

neighbouring wood. The victors, assembling in large bands, gazed with

wonder, not unmixed with fear, upon the flames, in which their own ranks

and arms glanced dusky red. The maniac figure of the Saxon Ulrica was

for a long time visible on the lofty stand she had chosen, tossing

her arms abroad with wild exultation, as if she reined empress of the

conflagration which she had raised. At length, with a terrific crash,

the whole turret gave way, and she perished in the flames which had

consumed her tyrant. An awful pause of horror silenced each murmur of

the armed spectators, who, for the space of several minutes, stirred not

a finger, save to sign the cross. The voice of Locksley was then heard,

" Shout, yeomen! --the den of tyrants is no more! Let each bring his

spoil to our chosen place of rendezvous at the Trysting-tree in the

Harthill-walk; for there at break of day will we make just partition

among our own bands, together with our worthy allies in this great deed

of vengeance. "

CHAPTER XXXII.

Trust me each state must have its policies:

Kingdoms have edicts, cities have their charters;

Even the wild outlaw, in his forest-walk,

Keeps yet some touch of civil discipline;

For not since Adam wore his verdant apron,

Hath man with man in social union dwelt,

But laws were made to draw that union closer.

--Old Play

The daylight had dawned upon the glades of the oak forest. The green

boughs glittered with all their pearls of dew. The hind led her fawn

from the covert of high fern to the more open walks of the greenwood,

and no huntsman was there to watch or intercept the stately hart, as he

paced at the head of the antler'd herd.

The outlaws were all assembled around the Trysting-tree in the

Harthill-walk, where they had spent the night in refreshing themselves

after the fatigues of the siege, some with wine, some with slumber, many

with hearing and recounting the events of the day, and computing the

heaps of plunder which their success had placed at the disposal of their

Chief.

The spoils were indeed very large; for, notwithstanding that much was

consumed, a great deal of plate, rich armour, and splendid clothing,

had been secured by the exertions of the dauntless outlaws, who could be

appalled by no danger when such rewards were in view. Yet so strict were

the laws of their society, that no one ventured to appropriate any

part of the booty, which was brought into one common mass, to be at the

disposal of their leader.

The place of rendezvous was an aged oak; not however the same to which

Locksley had conducted Gurth and Wamba in the earlier part of the story,

but one which was the centre of a silvan amphitheatre, within half a

mile of the demolished castle of Torquilstone. Here Locksley assumed his

seat--a throne of turf erected under the twisted branches of the huge

oak, and the silvan followers were gathered around him. He assigned to

the Black Knight a seat at his right hand, and to Cedric a place upon

his left.

" Pardon my freedom, noble sirs, " he said, " but in these glades I am

monarch--they are my kingdom; and these my wild subjects would reck but

little of my power, were I, within my own dominions, to yield place to

mortal man. --Now, sirs, who hath seen our chaplain? where is our curtal

Friar? A mass amongst Christian men best begins a busy morning. " --No one

had seen the Clerk of Copmanhurst. " Over gods forbode! " said the outlaw

chief, " I trust the jolly priest hath but abidden by the wine-pot a

thought too late. Who saw him since the castle was ta'en? "

" I, " quoth the Miller, " marked him busy about the door of a cellar,

swearing by each saint in the calendar he would taste the smack of

Front-de-Boeuf's Gascoigne wine. "

" Now, the saints, as many as there be of them, " said the Captain,

" forefend, lest he has drunk too deep of the wine-butts, and perished by

the fall of the castle! --Away, Miller! --take with you enow of men,

seek the place where you last saw him--throw water from the moat on the

scorching ruins--I will have them removed stone by stone ere I lose my

curtal Friar. "

The numbers who hastened to execute this duty, considering that an

interesting division of spoil was about to take place, showed how much

the troop had at heart the safety of their spiritual father.

" Meanwhile, let us proceed, " said Locksley; " for when this bold deed

shall be sounded abroad, the bands of De Bracy, of Malvoisin, and other

allies of Front-de-Boeuf, will be in motion against us, and it were well

for our safety that we retreat from the vicinity. --Noble Cedric, " he

said, turning to the Saxon, " that spoil is divided into two portions; do

thou make choice of that which best suits thee, to recompense thy people

who were partakers with us in this adventure. "

" Good yeoman, " said Cedric, " my heart is oppressed with sadness. The

noble Athelstane of Coningsburgh is no more--the last sprout of

the sainted Confessor! Hopes have perished with him which can never

return! --A sparkle hath been quenched by his blood, which no human

breath can again rekindle! My people, save the few who are now with me,

do but tarry my presence to transport his honoured remains to their last

mansion. The Lady Rowena is desirous to return to Rotherwood, and must

be escorted by a sufficient force. I should, therefore, ere now, have

left this place; and I waited--not to share the booty, for, so help me

God and Saint Withold! as neither I nor any of mine will touch the value

of a liard, --I waited but to render my thanks to thee and to thy bold

yeomen, for the life and honour ye have saved. "

" Nay, but, " said the chief Outlaw, " we did but half the work at

most--take of the spoil what may reward your own neighbours and

followers. "

" I am rich enough to reward them from mine own wealth, " answered Cedric.

" And some, " said Wamba, " have been wise enough to reward themselves;

they do not march off empty-handed altogether. We do not all wear

motley. "

" They are welcome, " said Locksley; " our laws bind none but ourselves. "

" But, thou, my poor knave, " said Cedric, turning about and embracing

his Jester, " how shall I reward thee, who feared not to give thy body

to chains and death instead of mine! --All forsook me, when the poor fool

was faithful! "

A tear stood in the eye of the rough Thane as he spoke--a mark of

feeling which even the death of Athelstane had not extracted; but there

was something in the half-instinctive attachment of his clown, that

waked his nature more keenly than even grief itself.

" Nay, " said the Jester, extricating himself from master's caress, " if

you pay my service with the water of your eye, the Jester must weep

for company, and then what becomes of his vocation? --But, uncle, if you

would indeed pleasure me, I pray you to pardon my playfellow Gurth, who

stole a week from your service to bestow it on your son. "

" Pardon him! " exclaimed Cedric; " I will both pardon and reward

him. --Kneel down, Gurth. " --The swineherd was in an instant at his

master's feet--" THEOW and ESNE [40] art thou no longer, " said Cedric

touching him with a wand; " FOLKFREE and SACLESS [41] art thou in town

and from town, in the forest as in the field. A hide of land I give to

thee in my steads of Walbrugham, from me and mine to thee and thine aye

and for ever; and God's malison on his head who this gainsays! "

No longer a serf, but a freeman and a landholder, Gurth sprung upon his

feet, and twice bounded aloft to almost his own height from the ground.

" A smith and a file, " he cried, " to do away the collar from the neck

of a freeman! --Noble master! doubled is my strength by your gift, and

doubly will I fight for you! --There is a free spirit in my breast--I am

a man changed to myself and all around. --Ha, Fangs! " he continued, --for

that faithful cur, seeing his master thus transported, began to jump

upon him, to express his sympathy, --" knowest thou thy master still? "

" Ay, " said Wamba, " Fangs and I still know thee, Gurth, though we must

needs abide by the collar; it is only thou art likely to forget both us

and thyself. "

" I shall forget myself indeed ere I forget thee, true comrade, " said

Gurth; " and were freedom fit for thee, Wamba, the master would not let

thee want it. "

" Nay, " said Wamba, " never think I envy thee, brother Gurth; the serf

sits by the hall-fire when the freeman must forth to the field of

battle--And what saith Oldhelm of Malmsbury--Better a fool at a feast

than a wise man at a fray. "

The tramp of horses was now heard, and the Lady Rowena appeared,

surrounded by several riders, and a much stronger party of footmen, who

joyfully shook their pikes and clashed their brown-bills for joy of her

freedom. She herself, richly attired, and mounted on a dark chestnut

palfrey, had recovered all the dignity of her manner, and only an

unwonted degree of paleness showed the sufferings she had undergone. Her

lovely brow, though sorrowful, bore on it a cast of reviving hope

for the future, as well as of grateful thankfulness for the past

deliverance--She knew that Ivanhoe was safe, and she knew that

Athelstane was dead. The former assurance filled her with the most

sincere delight; and if she did not absolutely rejoice at the latter,

she might be pardoned for feeling the full advantage of being freed

from further persecution on the only subject in which she had ever been

contradicted by her guardian Cedric.

As Rowena bent her steed towards Locksley's seat, that bold yeoman, with

all his followers, rose to receive her, as if by a general instinct of

courtesy. The blood rose to her cheeks, as, courteously waving her hand,

and bending so low that her beautiful and loose tresses were for an

instant mixed with the flowing mane of her palfrey, she expressed in

few but apt words her obligations and her gratitude to Locksley and her

other deliverers. --" God bless you, brave men, " she concluded, " God and

Our Lady bless you and requite you for gallantly perilling yourselves

in the cause of the oppressed! --If any of you should hunger, remember

Rowena has food--if you should thirst, she has many a butt of wine and

brown ale--and if the Normans drive ye from these walks, Rowena has

forests of her own, where her gallant deliverers may range at full

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