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The Squashed version of
Ivanhoe
by
Sir Walter Scott
1819

I. The Hall of Cedric the Saxon

In the hall of Rotherwood at the centre of the upper table sat Cedric the Saxon, irritable at the delay of his evening meal, and impatient for the presence of his favourite clown Wamba, and the return of his swineherd Gurth. "They have been carried off to serve the Norman lords," he exclaimed. "But I will be avenged. Haply they think me old, but they shall find the blood of Hereward is in the veins of Cedric. Ah, Wilfred, Wilfred!" he went on in a lower tone, "couldst thou have ruled thine unreasonable passion, thy father had not been left in his age like the solitary oak that throws out its shattered branches against the full sweep of the tempest!"

From his melancholy reflections, Cedric was suddenly awakened by the blast of a horn.

"To the gate, knaves!" said the Saxon, hastily. "See what tidings that horn tells us of."

Returning in less than three minutes, a warder announced "that the Prior Aymer of Jorvank, and the good knight Brian de Bois-Guilbert, Commander of the Order of Knights Templars, with a small retinue, requested hospitality and lodging for the night, being on their way to a tournament to be held not far from Ashby-de-la-Zouche."

"Normans both," muttered Cedric; "but, Norman or Saxon, the hospitality of Rotherwood must not be impeached; they are welcome since they have chosen to halt; in the quality of guests, even Normans must suppress their insolence."

The folding doors at the bottom of the hall were cast wide, and preceded by the major domo with his wand, and four domestics bearing blazing torches, the guests of the evening entered the apartment, followed by their attendants, and, at a more humble distance, by a pilgrim, wearing the sandals and broad hat of the palmer.

No sooner were the guests seated, and the repast about to commence, than the major domo, or steward, suddenly raising his wand, said aloud-"Forbear!-Place for the Lady Rowena." A side door at the upper end of the hall now opened, and Cedric's ward, Rowena, a Saxon lady of rare beauty and lofty character, entered. All stood up to receive her, and, as she moved gracefully forward to assume her place at the board, the Knight Templar's eyes bent on her with an ardour that made Rowena draw with dignity the veil around her face.

Cedric and the Prior discoursed on hunting for a time, the Lady Rowena seemed engaged in conversation with one of her attendants; while the haughty Templar's eye wandered from the Saxon beauty to the rest of the company.

"Pledge me in a cup of wine, Sir Templar," said Cedric, "and fill another to the Abbot. To the strong in arms, Sir Templar, be their race or language what it will, who now bear them best in Palestine among the champions of the Cross!"

"To whom, besides the sworn champions of the Holy Sepulchre, whose badge I wear, can the palm be assigned among the champions of the Cross?" said Sir Brian de Bois-Guilbert.

"Were there, then, none in the English army," said the Lady Rowena, "whose names are worthy to be mentioned with the Knights of the Temple?"

"Forgive me, lady," replied de Bois-Guilbert, "the English monarch did, indeed, bring to Palestine a host of gallant warriors, second only to those whose breasts have been the bulwark of that blessed land."

"Second to NONE," said the Pilgrim, and all turned towards the spot from whence the declaration came. "I say that the English chivalry were second to none who ever drew sword in defence of the Holy Land. I saw it when King Richard himself and five of his knights held a tournament after the taking of Sir John-de-Acre, as challengers against all comers. On that day each knight ran three courses, and cast to the ground three antagonists. Seven of these assailants were Knights of the Temple-and Sir Brian de Bois-Guilbert well knows the truth of what I tell you."

A bitter smile of rage darkened the countenance of the Templar. At Cedric's request the Pilgrim told out the names of the English knights, only pausing at the sixth to say-"he was a young knight-his name dwells not in my memory."

"Sir Palmer," said the Templar, scornfully, "I will myself tell the name of the knight before whose lance fortune and my horse's fault occasioned my falling-it was the Knight of Ivanhoe; nor was there one of the six that for his years had more renown in arms. Yet this I will say, and loudly-that were he in England, and durst repeat, in this week's tournament, the challenge of St. John-de-Acre, I, mounted and armed as I now am, would give him every advantage of weapons and abide the result."

"Your challenge would be soon answered," replied the Palmer, "were your antagonist near you. If Ivanhoe ever returns from Palestine, I will be his surety that he meet you. And for pledge I proffer this reliquary," taking a small ivory box from his bosom, "containing a portion of the true cross, brought from the Monastery of Mount Carmel."

The Templar took from his neck a gold chain, which he flung on the board, saying, "Let Prior Aymer hold my pledge, and that of this nameless vagrant, in token that when the Knight of Ivanhoe comes within the four seas of Britain, he underlies the challenge of Brian de Bois-Guilbert, which, if he answers not, I will proclaim him as a coward on the walls of every Temple Court in Europe."

"It will not need," said the Lady Rowena, breaking silence; "my voice shall be heard, if no other in this hall is raised on behalf of the absent Ivanhoe. I affirm he will meet fairly every honourable challenge, and I would pledge name and fame that Ivanhoe gives this proud knight the meeting he desires."

"Lady," said Cedric, "this beseems not; were further pledge necessary, I myself, justly offended as I am, would yet gage my honour for the honour of Ivanhoe."

The grace-cup was shortly after served round, and the guests marshalled to their sleeping apartment.

II. The Disinherited Knight

The Passage of Arms, as it was called, which was to take place at Ashby, attracted universal attention, as champions of the first renown were to take the field in the presence of Prince John himself.

The laws of the tournament, proclaimed by the heralds, were briefly:

First, the five challengers were to undertake all comers.

Secondly, the general tournament in which all knights present might take part; and being divided into two bands of equal numbers, might fight it out manfully, until the signal was given by Prince John to cease the combat.

The challengers, headed by Brian de Bois-Guilbert, were all Normans, and Cedric saw, with keen feeling of dissatisfaction, the advantage they gained. No less than four parties of knights had gone down before the challengers, and Prince John began to talk about adjudging the prize to Bois-Guilbert, who had, with a single spear, overthrown two knights, and foiled a third.

But a new champion had entered the lists. His suit of armour was of steel, and the device on his shield was a young oak-tree pulled up by the roots, with the Spanish word Desdichado, signifying Disinherited. To the astonishment of all present he struck with the sharp end of his spear the shield of Brian de Bois-Guilbert until it rang again. Amazed at his presumption was the redoubted knight, whom he had thus defied to mortal combat.

"Have you confessed yourself, brother," said the Templar, "that you peril your life so frankly?"

"I am fitter to meet death than thou art," answered the Disinherited Knight.

"Then look your last upon the sun," said Bois-Guilbert; "for this night thou shalt sleep in paradise."

The champions closed in the centre of the lists with the shock of a thunderbolt. The Templar aimed at the centre of his antagonist's shield, and struck it so fair that his spear went to shivers, and the Disinherited Knight reeled in his saddle. On the other hand, that champion addressed his lance to his antagonist's helmet, and hit the Norman on the visor, where his lance's point kept hold of the bars. The girths of the Templar's saddle burst, and saddle, horse, and man rolled on the ground under a cloud of dust.

To extricate himself from the stirrups and fallen steed, was to the Templar scarce the work of a moment; and stung with madness, he drew his sword, and waved it in defiance of his conqueror. The Disinherited Knight sprung from his steed, and also unsheathed his sword. The marshals of the field, however, intervened, for the laws of the tournament did not permit this species of encounter, and Bois-Guilbert returned to his tent in an agony of rage and despair.

The Disinherited Knight then sounded a defiance to each of the challengers, and the four Normans each in his turn retired discomfited.

The acclamations of thousands applauded the unanimous award of the Prince and marshals, announcing that day's honours to the Disinherited Knight.

To Prince John's annoyance the champion declined either to raise his visor or to attend the evening banquet, pleading fatigue and the necessity of preparing for the morrow. As victor it was his privilege to name the lady, who, as Queen of Honour and of Love, was to preside over the next day's festival; and Prince John, having placed upon his lance a coronet of green satin, the Disinherited Knight rode slowly around the lists and paused beneath the balcony where Cedric and the Lady Rowena were placed. Then he deposited the coronet at the feet of the fair Rowena, while the populace shouted "Long live the Lady Rowena, the chosen and lawful Queen of Love and of Beauty!"

On the following morning the general tournament was proclaimed, and about fifty knights were ready upon each side, the Disinherited Knight leading one body, and Brian de Bois-Guilbert the other.

Prince John escorted Rowena to the seat of honour opposite his own, while the fairest ladies present crowded after her to obtain places as near as possible to their temporary sovereign.

It was not until the field became thin by the numbers on either side who had yielded themselves vanquished that the Templar and the Disinherited Knight at length encountered hand to hand, with all the fury that mortal animosity and rivalry of honour could inspire. Bois-Guilbert, however, was soon joined by two more knights, the gigantic Front-de-Boeuf, and the ponderous Athelstane, who, though a Saxon, had enlisted under the Norman-to Cedric's disgust. The masterly horsemanship of the Disinherited Knight enabled him for a few minutes to keep at sword's point his three antagonists, but it was evident that he must at last be overpowered.

An unexpected incident changed the fortune of the day. Among the ranks of the Disinherited Knight was a champion in black armour, who bore on his shield no device of any kind, and who, beyond beating off with seeming ease those who attacked him, evinced little interest in the combat.

On discovering the leader of his party so hard beset, this knight threw aside his apathy and came to his assistance like a thunderbolt, exclaiming in trumpet tones, "Desdichado, to the rescue!" It was high time; for, while the Disinherited Knight was pressing upon the Templar, Front-de-Boeuf had got nigh to him with his uplifted sword; but ere the blow could descend, the Black Knight dealt a blow on the head-and Front-de-Boeuf rolled to the ground, both horse and man equally stunned. The Black Knight then turned upon Athelstane, wrenched from the hand of the bulky Saxon the battle-axe which he wielded, and bestowed him such a blow on the crest that Athelstane also lay senseless on the field. Having achieved this double feat he retired calmly to the extremity of the lists, leaving his leader to cope as best he could with Brian de Bois-Guilbert. This was no longer matter of so much difficulty. The Templar's horse had bled much, and gave way under the shock of the Disinherited Knight's charge. Brian de Bois-Guilbert rolled on the field, and his antagonist, springing from horseback, waved his fatal sword over the Templar's head, and commanded him to yield. But Prince John saved him that mortification by putting an end to the conflict.

Thus ended the memorable field of Ashby-de-la-Zouche. The Knight of the Black Armour having disappeared, the Disinherited Knight was named the champion of the day, and was conducted to the foot of that throne of honour which was occupied by Lady Rowena. His helmet having been removed, by order of the marshals, the well-formed, yet sun-burnt features of a young man of twenty-five were seen, and no sooner had Rowena beheld him than she uttered a faint shriek. Trembling with the violence of sudden emotion, she placed upon the drooping head of the victor the splendid chaplet which was the destined reward of the day.

The Knight stooped his head, and then, sinking down, lay prostrate at the feet of his lovely sovereign.

There was general consternation. Cedric, struck mute by the sudden appearance of his banished son, now rushed forward. The marshals hastened to undo Ivanhoe's armour, and finding that the head of a lance had penetrated his breastplate and inflicted a wound in his side, he was quickly removed from the lists.

III. The Burning of Torquilstone

Cedric, Rowena, and Athelstane, returning home with their retinue from Ashby, were waylaid by Bois-Guilbert and his followers, and boldly carried off as prisoners to Torquilstone, Front-de-Boeuf's castle. In those lawless times these Norman nobles trusted thus to obtain a good ransom for Cedric and Athelstane, and to win Rowena for a bride. Ivanhoe, who, enfeebled by his wound, lay concealed in a litter, unknown to his father, was also taken.

But Gurth rallied the Saxon outlaws and yeomen of the neighbourhood to the rescue, the Black Knight of the tournament led the attacking party, and in spite of a ferocious defence Torquilstone was stormed. The Black Knight bore the wounded Ivanhoe in his arms from the burning castle, Rowena was saved by Cedric and Gurth, just as she had abandoned all hopes of life.

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 resisted the progress of the flames, and there the rage of man still triumphed. The besiegers pursued the defenders of the castle from chamber to chamber, and satiated in their blood the vengeance which 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 courtyard of the castle was soon the last scene of the contest. Here sat the fierce Templar mounted on horseback, with a remnant of the defenders, who fought with the utmost valour. Athelstane who, on the flight of the guard, had made his way into the ante-room and thence into the court, snatched a mace from the pavement, and rushed on the Templar's band striking in quick succession to the right and left: he was soon within two yards of Bois-Guilbert, whom he defied in his loudest tone.

But Athelstane was without armour, and a silken bonnet keeps out no steel blade. So trenchant was the Templar's weapon that it levelled the ill-fated Saxon to the earth.

Taking advantage of the dismay which was spread by the fall of Athelstane, and calling aloud, "Those who would save themselves, follow me!" the Templar pushed across the drawbridge, and then galloped off with his followers.

And now the towering flames surmounted every obstruction, and rose to the evening skies one huge and burning beacon. Tower after tower crashed down, with blazing roof and rafter, and the combatants were driven from the courtyard.

When the last turret gave way, the voice of Robin Hood was heard, "Shout, yeomen!-the den of tyrants is no more! Let each bring his spoil to our chosen place of rendezvous, and there at break of day will be made just partition among our own bands, together with our allies in this great deed of vengeance."

Cedric, ere he departed, earnestly entreated the Black Knight to accompany him to Rotherwood, "not as a guest, but as a son or brother."

"To Rotherwood will I come, brave Saxon," said the Knight, "and that speedily. Peradventure, when I come, I will ask such a boon as will put even thy generosity to the test."

"It is granted already," said Cedric, "were it to affect half my fortune. But my heart is oppressed with sadness, for the noble Athelstane is no more. I have but to say," he added, "that during the funeral rites I shall inhabit his castle of Coningsburgh-which will be open to all who choose to partake of the funeral banqueting."

Rowena waved a graceful adieu to the Black Knight, the Saxon bade God speed him, and on they moved through a wide glade of the forest.

IV. Ivanhoe's Wedding

At the castle of Coningsburgh all was a scene of busy commotion when the Black Knight, attended by Ivanhoe, who had muffled his face in his mantle, entered and was welcomed gravely by Cedric-by common consent the chief of the distinguished Saxon families present.

"I crave to remind you, noble Thane," said the Knight, "that when we last parted, you promised, for the service I had the fortune to render you, to grant me a boon."

"It is granted ere named, noble Knight," said Cedric; "yet, at this sad moment-"

"Of that also," said the Knight, "I have bethought me-but my time is brief-neither does it seem to me unfit that, in the grave of the noble Athelstane, we should deposit certain prejudices and hasty opinions."

"Sir Knight," said Cedric, colouring, "in that which concerns the honour of my house, it is scarce fitting a stranger should mingle."

"Nor do I wish to mingle," said the Knight, mildly, "unless you will admit me to have an interest. As yet you have known me but as the Black Knight-know me now as Richard Plantagenet, King of England. And now to my boon. I require of thee, as a man of thy word, to forgive and receive to thy paternal affection the good Knight, Wilfred of Ivanhoe."

"My father!-my father!" said Ivanhoe, prostrating himself at Cedric's feet, "grant me thy forgiveness."

"Thou hast it, my son," said Cedric, raising him up. "The son of Hereward knows how to keep his word, even when it has been passed to a Norman. Thou art about to speak, and I guess the topic. The Lady Rowena must complete two years mourning as for a betrothed husband. The ghost of Athelstane himself would stand before us to forbid such dishonour to his memory were it otherwise."

Scarce had Cedric spoken than the door flew open, and Athelstane, arrayed in the garments of the grave, stood before them, pale, haggard, and like something arisen from the dead!

"In the name of God," said Cedric, starting back, "if thou art mortal, speak! Living or dead, noble Athelstane, speak to Cedric!"

"I will," said the spectre, very composedly, "when I have collected breath. Alive, saidst thou? I am as much alive as he can be who has fed on bread and water for three days. I went down under the Templar's sword, stunned, indeed, but unwounded, for the blade struck me flatlings, being averted by the good mace with which I warded the blow. Others, of both sides, were beaten down and slaughtered above me, so that I never recovered my senses until I found myself in a coffin-an open one, by good luck-placed before the altar in church. But that villain Abbot has kept me a prisoner for three days and he shall hang on the top of this castle of Coningsburgh, in his cope and stole. I will be king in my own domains, and nowhere else. Cedric, I rise from the tomb a wiser man than I descended."

"My ward, Rowena," said Cedric-"you do not intend to desert her?"

"Father Cedric," said Athelstane, "be reasonable. The Lady Rowena cares not for me-she loves the little finger of my kinsman Wilfred's glove better than my whole person. There she stands to avouch it-nay, blush not, kinswoman, there is no shame in loving a courtly knight better than a country thane,-and do not laugh neither, Rowena, for grave-clothes and a thin visage are, God knows, no matter of merriment. Nay, as thou wilt needs laugh, I will find thee a better jest-Give me thy hand, or, rather, lend it me, for I but ask it in the way of friendship. Here, cousin Wilfred of Ivanhoe, in thy favour I renounce and abjure-Hey! our cousin Wilfred hath vanished!"

Ivanhoe had disappeared, and King Richard had gone also.

Ivanhoe hastened away at a secret message to fight once more with Brian de Bois-Guilbert, who had abducted a Jewish maiden named Rebecca, and spurned by Rebecca, Bois-Guilbert only escaped condemnation by the Grand Master of the Templars for his offence by admitting Rebecca to be a sorceress, and by challenging to mortal combat all who should dare to champion the high-souled and hapless Hebrew maid.

Bois-Guilbert fell in the lists as Ivanhoe approached, and, unscathed by the lance of his enemy, died a victim to the violence of his own contending passions.

Ivanhoe and King Richard (who had followed Wilfred) hastened back to Coningsburgh, and Cedric, finding his project for the union of Rowena and Athelstane at an end by the mutual dissent of both parties, soon gave his consent to the marriage of his ward Rowena and his son Wilfred of Ivanhoe.

The nuptials thus formally approved were celebrated in the noble Minster of York. The King himself attended, and the presence of high-born Normans, as well as Saxons, joined with the universal rejoicing of the lower orders, marked the marriage as a pledge of the future peace and harmony betwixt the two races.