Ivanhoe by Walter Scott (reading books for 4 year olds txt) 📕

bugle were anciently called mots, and are distinguished in the old treatises on hunting, not by musical characters, but by written words.

upon the horn thus, ‘Wa-sa-hoa!’ and it may well chance ye shall

find helpers and rescue.”

He then gave breath to the bugle, and winded once and again the

call which be described, until the knight had caught the notes.

“Gramercy for the gift, bold yeoman,” said the Knight; “and

better help than thine and thy rangers would I never seek, were

it at my utmost need.” And then in his turn he winded the call

till all the greenwood rang.

“Well blown and clearly,” said the yeoman; “beshrew me an thou

knowest not as much of woodcraft as of war!---thou hast been a

striker of deer in thy day, I warrant.---Comrades, mark these

three mots---it is the call of the Knight of the Fetterlock; and

he who hears it, and hastens not to serve him at his need, I will

have him scourged out of our band with his own bowstring.”

“Long live our leader!” shouted the yeomen, “and long live the

Black Knight of the Fetterlock!---May he soon use our service, to

prove how readily it will be paid.”

Locksley now proceeded to the distribution of the spoil, which he

performed with the most laudable impartiality. A tenth part of

the whole was set apart for the church, and for pious uses; a

portion was next allotted to a sort of public treasury; a part

was assigned to the widows and children of those who had fallen,

or to be expended in masses for the souls of such as had left no

surviving family. The rest was divided amongst the outlaws,

according to their rank and merit, and the judgment of the Chief,

on all such doubtful questions as occurred, was delivered with

great shrewdness, and received with absolute submission. The

Black Knight was not a little surprised to find that men, in a

state so lawless, were nevertheless among themselves so regularly

and equitably governed, and all that he observed added to his

opinion of the justice and judgment of their leader.

When each had taken his own proportion of the booty, and while

the treasurer, accompanied by four tall yeomen, was transporting

that belonging to the state to some place of concealment or of

security, the portion devoted to the church still remained

unappropriated.

“I would,” said the leader, “we could hear tidings of our joyous

chaplain---he was never wont to be absent when meat was to be

blessed, or spoil to be parted; and it is his duty to take care

of these the tithes of our successful enterprise. It may be the

office has helped to cover some of his canonical irregularities.

Also, I have a holy brother of his a prisoner at no great

distance, and I would fain have the Friar to help me to deal with

him in due sort---I greatly misdoubt the safety of the bluff

priest.”

“I were right sorry for that,” said the Knight of the Fetterlock,

“for I stand indebted to him for the joyous hospitality of a

merry night in his cell. Let us to the ruins of the castle; it

may be we shall there learn some tidings of him.”

While they thus spoke, a loud shout among the yeomen announced

the arrival of him for whom they feared, as they learned from

the stentorian voice of the Friar himself, long before they saw

his burly person.

“Make room, my merry-men!” he exclaimed; “room for your godly

father and his prisoner---Cry welcome once more.---I come, noble

leader, like an eagle with my prey in my clutch.”---And making

his way through the ring, amidst the laughter of all around, he

appeared in majestic triumph, his huge partisan in one hand, and

in the other a halter, one end of which was fastened to the neck

of the unfortunate Isaac of York, who, bent down by sorrow and

terror, was dragged on by the victorious priest, who shouted

aloud, “Where is Allan-a-Dale, to chronicle me in a ballad, or if

it were but a lay?---By Saint Hermangild, the jingling crowder is

ever out of the way where there is an apt theme for exalting

valour!”

“Curtal Priest,” said the Captain, “thou hast been at a wet mass

this morning, as early as it is. In the name of Saint Nicholas,

whom hast thou got here?”

“A captive to my sword and to my lance, noble Captain,” replied

the Clerk of Copmanhurst; “to my bow and to my halberd, I should

rather say; and yet I have redeemed him by my divinity from a

worse captivity. Speak, Jew---have I not ransomed thee from

Sathanas?---have I not taught thee thy ‘credo’, thy ‘pater’, and

thine ‘Ave Maria’?---Did I not spend the whole night in drinking

to thee, and in expounding of mysteries?”

“For the love of God!” ejaculated the poor Jew, “will no one take

me out of the keeping of this mad---I mean this holy man?”

“How’s this, Jew?” said the Friar, with a menacing aspect; “dost

thou recant, Jew?---Bethink thee, if thou dost relapse into thine

infidelity, though thou are not so tender as a suckling pig---I

would I had one to break my fast upon---thou art not too tough to

be roasted! Be conformable, Isaac, and repeat the words after

me. ‘Ave Maria’!---”

“Nay, we will have no profanation, mad Priest,” said Locksley;

“let us rather hear where you found this prisoner of thine.”

“By Saint Dunstan,” said the Friar, “I found him where I sought

for better ware! I did step into the cellarage to see what might

be rescued there; for though a cup of burnt wine, with spice, be

an evening’s drought for an emperor, it were waste, methought, to

let so much good liquor be mulled at once; and I had caught up

one runlet of sack, and was coming to call more aid among these

lazy knaves, who are ever to seek when a good deed is to be done,

when I was avised of a strong door---Aha! thought I, here is the

choicest juice of all in this secret crypt; and the knave butler,

being disturbed in his vocation, hath left the key in the door

---In therefore I went, and found just nought besides a commodity

of rusted chains and this dog of a Jew, who presently rendered

himself my prisoner, rescue or no rescue. I did but refresh

myself after the fatigue of the action, with the unbeliever, with

one humming cup of sack, and was proceeding to lead forth my

captive, when, crash after crash, as with wild thunder-dint and

levin-fire, down toppled the masonry of an outer tower, (marry

beshrew their hands that built it not the firmer!) and blocked up

the passage. The roar of one falling tower followed another---I

gave up thought of life; and deeming it a dishonour to one of my

profession to pass out of this world in company with a Jew, I

heaved up my halberd to beat his brains out; but I took pity on

his grey hairs, and judged it better to lay down the partisan,

and take up my spiritual weapon for his conversion. And truly,

by the blessing of Saint Dunstan, the seed has been sown in good

soil; only that, with speaking to him of mysteries through the

whole night, and being in a manner fasting, (for the few

droughts of sack which I sharpened my wits with were not worth

marking,) my head is well-nigh dizzied, I trow.---But I was clean

exhausted.---Gilbert and Wibbald know in what state they found me

---quite and clean exhausted.”

“We can bear witness,” said Gilbert; “for when we had cleared

away the ruin, and by Saint Dunstan’s help lighted upon the

dungeon stair, we found the runlet of sack half empty, the Jew

half dead, and the Friar more than half---exhausted, as he calls

it.”

“Ye be knaves! ye lie!” retorted the offended Friar; “it was you

and your gormandizing companions that drank up the sack, and

called it your morning draught---I am a pagan, an I kept it not

for the Captain’s own throat. But what recks it? The Jew is

converted, and understands all I have told him, very nearly, if

not altogether, as well as myself.”

“Jew,” said the Captain, “is this true? hast thou renounced thine

unbelief?”

“May I so find mercy in your eyes,” said the Jew, “as I know not

one word which the reverend prelate spake to me all this fearful

night. Alas! I was so distraught with agony, and fear, and

grief, that had our holy father Abraham come to preach to me, he

had found but a deaf listener.”

“Thou liest, Jew, and thou knowest thou dost.” said the Friar; “I

will remind thee of but one word of our conference---thou didst

promise to give all thy substance to our holy Order.”

“So help me the Promise, fair sirs,” said Isaac, even more

alarmed than before, “as no such sounds ever crossed my lips!

Alas! I am an aged beggar’d man---I fear me a childless---have

ruth on me, and let me go!”

“Nay,” said the Friar, “if thou dost retract vows made in favour

of holy Church, thou must do penance.”

Accordingly, he raised his halberd, and would have laid the staff

of it lustily on the Jew’s shoulders, had not the Black Knight

stopped the blow, and thereby transferred the Holy Clerk’s

resentment to himself.

“By Saint Thomas of Kent,” said he, “an I buckle to my gear, I

will teach thee, sir lazy lover, to mell with thine own matters,

maugre thine iron case there!”

“Nay, be not wroth with me,” said the Knight; “thou knowest I am

thy sworn friend and comrade.”

“I know no such thing,” answered the Friar; “and defy thee for a

meddling coxcomb!”

“Nay, but,” said the Knight, who seemed to take a pleasure in

provoking his quondam host, “hast thou forgotten how, that for my

sake (for I say nothing of the temptation of the flagon and the

pasty) thou didst break thy vow of fast and vigil?”

“Truly, friend,” said the Friar, clenching his huge fist, “I will

bestow a buffet on thee.”

“I accept of no such presents,” said the Knight; “I am content to

take thy cuff*

Note H. Richard Coeur-de-Lion.

as a loan, but I will repay thee with usury as deep as ever thy

prisoner there exacted in his traffic.”

“I will prove that presently,” said the Friar.

“Hola!” cried the Captain, “what art thou after, mad Friar?

brawling beneath our Trysting-tree?”

“No brawling,” said the Knight, “it is but a friendly interchange

of courtesy.---Friar, strike an thou darest---I will stand thy

blow, if thou wilt stand mine.”

“Thou hast the advantage with that iron pot on thy head,” said

the churchman; “but have at thee---Down thou goest, an thou wert

Goliath of Gath in his brazen helmet.”

The Friar bared his brawny arm up to the elbow, and putting his

full strength to the blow, gave the Knight a buffet that might

have felled an ox. But his adversary stood firm as a rock. A

loud shout was uttered by all the yeomen around; for the Clerk’s

cuff was proverbial amongst them, and there were few who, in jest

or earnest, had not had the occasion to know its vigour.

“Now, Priest,” said, the Knight, pulling off his gauntlet, “if I

had vantage on my head, I will have none on my hand---stand fast

as a true man.”

“‘Genam meam dedi vapulatori’---I have given my cheek to the

smiter,” said the Priest; “an thou canst stir me from the spot,

fellow, I will freely bestow on thee the Jew’s ransom.”