Ivanhoe by Walter Scott (reading books for 4 year olds txt) 📕
well, and go to sleep, And I will lap thee with my cope, Softly to lye."
It would seem that the manuscript is here imperfect, for we do not find the reasons which finally induce the curtal Friar to amend the King's cheer. But acknowledging his guest to be such a "good fellow" as has seldom graced his board, the holy man at length produces the best his cell affords. Two candles are placed on a table, white bread and baked pasties are displayed by the light, besides choice of venison, both salt and fresh, from which they select collops. "I might have eaten my bread dry," said the King, "had I not pressed thee on the score of archery, but now have I dined like a prince---if we had but drink enow."
This too is afforded by the hospitable anchorite, who dispatches an assistant to fetch a pot of four gallons from a secret corner near his bed, and the whole three set in to serious drinking. This amusement is superintended by the Friar, according to the recurrence of certain fustian words, to be repeate
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“Ho! ho! my kingdom and my subjects?” answered Richard,
impatiently; “I tell thee, Sir Wilfred, the best of them are most
willing to repay my follies in kind---For example, my very
faithful servant, Wilfred of Ivanhoe, will not obey my positive
commands, and yet reads his king a homily, because he does not
walk exactly by his advice. Which of us has most reason to
upbraid the other?---Yet forgive me, my faithful Wilfred. The
time I have spent, and am yet to spend in concealment, is, as I
explained to thee at Saint Botolph’s, necessary to give my
friends and faithful nobles time to assemble their forces, that
when Richard’s return is announced, he should be at the head of
such a force as enemies shall tremble to face, and thus subdue
the meditated treason, without even unsheathing a sword.
Estoteville and Bohun will not be strong enough to move forward
to York for twenty-four hours. I must have news of Salisbury
from the south; and of Beauchamp, in Warwickshire; and of Multon
and Percy in the north. The Chancellor must make sure of London.
Too sudden an appearance would subject me to dangers, other than
my lance and sword, though backed by the bow of bold Robin, or
the quarter-staff of Friar Tuck, and the horn of the sage Wamba,
may be able to rescue me from.”
Wilfred bowed in submission, well knowing how vain it was to
contend with the wild spirit of chivalry which so often impelled
his master upon dangers which he might easily have avoided, or
rather, which it was unpardonable in him to have sought out. The
young knight sighed, therefore, and held his peace; while
Richard, rejoiced at having silenced his counsellor, though his
heart acknowledged the justice of the charge he had brought
against him, went on in conversation with Robin Hood.---“King of
Outlaws,” he said, “have you no refreshment to offer to your
brother sovereign? for these dead knaves have found me both in
exercise and appetite.”
“In troth,” replied the Outlaw, “for I scorn to lie to your
Grace, our larder is chiefly supplied with---” He stopped, and
was somewhat embarrassed.
“With venison, I suppose?” said Richard, gaily; “better food at
need there can be none---and truly, if a king will not remain at
home and slay his own game, methinks he should not brawl too loud
if he finds it killed to his hand.”
“If your Grace, then,” said Robin, “will again honour with your
presence one of Robin Hood’s places of rendezvous, the venison
shall not be lacking; and a stoup of ale, and it may be a cup of
reasonably good wine, to relish it withal.”
The Outlaw accordingly led the way, followed by the buxom
Monarch, more happy, probably, in this chance meeting with Robin
Hood and his foresters, than he would have been in again assuming
his royal state, and presiding over a splendid circle of peers
and nobles. Novelty in society and adventure were the zest of
life to Richard Coeur-de-Lion, and it had its highest relish when
enhanced by dangers encountered and surmounted. In the
lion-hearted King, the brilliant, but useless character, of a
knight of romance, was in a great measure realized and revived;
and the personal glory which he acquired by his own deeds of
arms, was far more dear to his excited imagination, than that
which a course of policy and wisdom would have spread around his
government. Accordingly, his reign was like the course of a
brilliant and rapid meteor, which shoots along the face of
Heaven, shedding around an unnecessary and portentous light,
which is instantly swallowed up by universal darkness; his feats
of chivalry furnishing themes for bards and minstrels, but
affording none of those solid benefits to his country on which
history loves to pause, and hold up as an example to posterity.
But in his present company Richard showed to the greatest
imaginable advantage. He was gay, good-humoured, and fond of
manhood in every rank of life.
Beneath a huge oak-tree the silvan repast was hastily prepared
for the King of England, surrounded by men outlaws to his
government, but who now formed his court and his guard. As the
flagon went round, the rough foresters soon lost their awe for
the presence of Majesty. The song and the jest were exchanged
---the stories of former deeds were told with advantage; and at
length, and while boasting of their successful infraction of the
laws, no one recollected they were speaking in presence of their
natural guardian. The merry King, nothing heeding his dignity
any more than his company, laughed, quaffed, and jested among the
jolly band. The natural and rough sense of Robin Hood led him to
be desirous that the scene should be closed ere any thing should
occur to disturb its harmony, the more especially that he
observed Ivanhoe’s brow clouded with anxiety. “We are honoured,”
he said to Ivanhoe, apart, “by the presence of our gallant
Sovereign; yet I would not that he dallied with time, which the
circumstances of his kingdom may render precious.”
“It is well and wisely spoken, brave Robin Hood,” said Wilfred,
apart; “and know, moreover, that they who jest with Majesty even
in its gayest mood are but toying with the lion’s whelp, which,
on slight provocation, uses both fangs and claws.”
“You have touched the very cause of my fear,” said the Outlaw;
“my men are rough by practice and nature, the King is hasty as
well as good-humoured; nor know I how soon cause of offence may
arise, or how warmly it may be received---it is time this revel
were broken off.”
“It must be by your management then, gallant yeoman,” said
Ivanhoe; “for each hint I have essayed to give him serves only to
induce him to prolong it.”
“Must I so soon risk the pardon and favour of my Sovereign?” said
Robin Hood, pausing for all instant; “but by Saint Christopher,
it shall be so. I were undeserving his grace did I not peril it
for his good.---Here, Scathlock, get thee behind yonder thicket,
and wind me a Norman blast on thy bugle, and without an instant’s
delay on peril of your life.”
Scathlock obeyed his captain, and in less than five minutes the
revellers were startled by the sound of his horn.
“It is the bugle of Malvoisin,” said the Miller, starting to his
feet, and seizing his bow. The Friar dropped the flagon, and
grasped his quarter-staff. Wamba stopt short in the midst of a
jest, and betook himself to sword and target. All the others
stood to their weapons.
Men of their precarious course of life change readily from the
banquet to the battle; and, to Richard, the exchange seemed but a
succession of pleasure. He called for his helmet and the most
cumbrous parts of his armour, which he had laid aside; and while
Gurth was putting them on, he laid his strict injunctions on
Wilfred, under pain of his highest displeasure, not to engage in
the skirmish which he supposed was approaching.
“Thou hast fought for me an hundred times, Wilfred,---and I have
seen it. Thou shalt this day look on, and see how Richard will
fight for his friend and liegeman.”
In the meantime, Robin Hood had sent off several of his followers
in different directions, as if to reconnoitre the enemy; and when
he saw the company effectually broken up, he approached Richard,
who was now completely armed, and, kneeling down on one knee,
craved pardon of his Sovereign.
“For what, good yeoman?” said Richard, somewhat impatiently.
“Have we not already granted thee a full pardon for all
transgressions? Thinkest thou our word is a feather, to be blown
backward and forward between us? Thou canst not have had time to
commit any new offence since that time?”
“Ay, but I have though,” answered the yeoman, “if it be an
offence to deceive my prince for his own advantage. The bugle
you have heard was none of Malvoisin’s, but blown by my
direction, to break off the banquet, lest it trenched upon hours
of dearer import than to be thus dallied with.”
He then rose from his knee, folded his arm on his bosom, and in a
manner rather respectful than submissive, awaited the answer of
the King,---like one who is conscious he may have given offence,
yet is confident in the rectitude of his motive. The blood
rushed in anger to the countenance of Richard; but it was the
first transient emotion, and his sense of justice instantly
subdued it.
“The King of Sherwood,” he said, “grudges his venison and his
wine-flask to the King of England? It is well, bold Robin!---but
when you come to see me in merry London, I trust to be a less
niggard host. Thou art right, however, good fellow. Let us
therefore to horse and away---Wilfred has been impatient this
hour. Tell me, bold Robin, hast thou never a friend in thy band,
who, not content with advising, will needs direct thy motions,
and look miserable when thou dost presume to act for thyself?”
“Such a one,” said Robin, “is my Lieutenant, Little John, who is
even now absent on an expedition as far as the borders of
Scotland; and I will own to your Majesty, that I am sometimes
displeased by the freedom of his councils---but, when I think
twice, I cannot be long angry with one who can have no motive for
his anxiety save zeal for his master’s service.”
“Thou art right, good yeoman,” answered Richard; “and if I had
Ivanhoe, on the one hand, to give grave advice, and recommend it
by the sad gravity of his brow, and thee, on the other, to trick
me into what thou thinkest my own good, I should have as little
the freedom of mine own will as any king in Christendom or
Heathenesse.---But come, sirs, let us merrily on to Coningsburgh,
and think no more on’t.”
Robin Hood assured them that he had detached a party in the
direction of the road they were to pass, who would not fail to
discover and apprize them of any secret ambuscade; and that he
had little doubt they would find the ways secure, or, if
otherwise, would receive such timely notice of the danger as
would enable them to fall back on a strong troop of archers, with
which he himself proposed to follow on the same route.
The wise and attentive precautions adopted for his safety touched
Richard’s feelings, and removed any slight grudge which he might
retain on account of the deception the Outlaw Captain had
practised upon him. He once more extended his hand to Robin
Hood, assured him of his full pardon and future favour, as well
as his firm resolution to restrain the tyrannical exercise of the
forest rights and other oppressive laws, by which so many English
yeomen were driven into a state of rebellion. But Richard’s good
intentions towards the bold Outlaw were frustrated by the King’s
untimely death; and the Charter of the Forest was extorted from
the unwilling hands of King John when he succeeded to his heroic
brother. As for the rest of Robin Hood’s career, as well as the
tale of his treacherous death, they are to be found in those
black-letter garlands, once sold at the low and easy rate of one
halfpenny,
“Now cheaply purchased at their weight in gold.”
The Outlaw’s opinion proved true; and the King, attended by
Ivanhoe, Gurth, and Wamba, arrived, without any interruption,
within view of the Castle of Coningsburgh, while the sun was yet
in the horizon.
There are few more beautiful or striking scenes in England, than
are presented by the vicinity of this ancient Saxon fortress.
The soft and gentle river
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