Ivanhoe by Walter Scott (top 10 ebook reader .txt) 📕
Description
Set in 12th-century England, Prince John rules while his brother King Richard is away during the Crusades. During his reign, Prince John and others of Norman nobility abuse their power over the Saxons, forcing Saxons off their lands and many Saxon nobles into serfdom.
Ivanhoe, a man disowned by his own Saxon father for going to war alongside the Norman King Richard, returns from the Crusades in disguise and appears in a tournament at Ashby. After revealing himself, Prince John and his advisors learn that King Richard, too, has returned from the crusades.
Foiling Prince John’s plot against King Richard’s return to power, King Richard battles against Prince John’s allies, and executes the most guilty of his conspirators. After the events of the story, Ivanhoe leads a heroic career under King Richard until the king’s untimely death.
Ivanhoe is the first novel to feature the character Robin Hood, his merry men, and Friar Tuck, and serves as the basis for the portrayals of his character we still see in many modern adaptations.
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- Author: Walter Scott
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Just as Rebecca had dropped over her fine features a screen of silver gauze which reached to her feet, the door opened, and Gurth entered, wrapt in the ample folds of his Norman mantle. His appearance was rather suspicious than prepossessing, especially as, instead of doffing his bonnet, he pulled it still deeper over his rugged brow.
“Art thou Isaac the Jew of York?” said Gurth, in Saxon.
“I am,” replied Isaac, in the same language, (for his traffic had rendered every tongue spoken in Britain familiar to him)—“and who art thou?”
“That is not to the purpose,” answered Gurth.
“As much as my name is to thee,” replied Isaac; “for without knowing thine, how can I hold intercourse with thee?”
“Easily,” answered Gurth; “I, being to pay money, must know that I deliver it to the right person; thou, who are to receive it, will not, I think, care very greatly by whose hands it is delivered.”
“O,” said the Jew, “you are come to pay moneys?—Holy Father Abraham! that altereth our relation to each other. And from whom dost thou bring it?”
“From the Disinherited Knight,” said Gurth, “victor in this day’s tournament. It is the price of the armour supplied to him by Kirjath Jairam of Leicester, on thy recommendation. The steed is restored to thy stable. I desire to know the amount of the sum which I am to pay for the armour.”
“I said he was a good youth!” exclaimed Isaac with joyful exultation. “A cup of wine will do thee no harm,” he added, filling and handing to the swineherd a richer drought than Gurth had ever before tasted. “And how much money,” continued Isaac, “has thou brought with thee?”
“Holy Virgin!” said Gurth, setting down the cup, “what nectar these unbelieving dogs drink, while true Christians are fain to quaff ale as muddy and thick as the draff we give to hogs!—What money have I brought with me?” continued the Saxon, when he had finished this uncivil ejaculation, “even but a small sum; something in hand the whilst. What, Isaac! thou must bear a conscience, though it be a Jewish one.”
“Nay, but,” said Isaac, “thy master has won goodly steeds and rich armours with the strength of his lance, and of his right hand—but ’tis a good youth—the Jew will take these in present payment, and render him back the surplus.”
“My master has disposed of them already,” said Gurth.
“Ah! that was wrong,” said the Jew, “that was the part of a fool. No Christians here could buy so many horses and armour—no Jew except myself would give him half the values. But thou hast a hundred zecchins with thee in that bag,” said Isaac, prying under Gurth’s cloak, “it is a heavy one.”
“I have heads for crossbow bolts in it,” said Gurth, readily.
“Well, then”—said Isaac, panting and hesitating between habitual love of gain and a newborn desire to be liberal in the present instance, “if I should say that I would take eighty zecchins for the good steed and the rich armour, which leaves me not a guilder’s profit, have you money to pay me?”
“Barely,” said Gurth, though the sum demanded was more reasonable than he expected, “and it will leave my master nigh penniless. Nevertheless, if such be your least offer, I must be content.”
“Fill thyself another goblet of wine,” said the Jew. “Ah! eighty zecchins is too little. It leaveth no profit for the usages of the moneys; and, besides, the good horse may have suffered wrong in this day’s encounter. O, it was a hard and a dangerous meeting! man and steed rushing on each other like wild bulls of Bashan! The horse cannot but have had wrong.”
“And I say,” replied Gurth, “he is sound, wind and limb; and you may see him now, in your stable. And I say, over and above, that seventy zecchins is enough for the armour, and I hope a Christian’s word is as good as a Jew’s. If you will not take seventy, I will carry this bag” (and he shook it till the contents jingled) “back to my master.”
“Nay, nay!” said Isaac; “lay down the talents—the shekels—the eighty zecchins, and thou shalt see I will consider thee liberally.”
Gurth at length complied; and telling out eighty zecchins upon the table, the Jew delivered out to him an acquittance for the horse and suit of armour. The Jew’s hand trembled for joy as he wrapped up the first seventy pieces of gold. The last ten he told over with much deliberation, pausing, and saying something as he took each piece from the table, and dropt it into his purse. It seemed as if his avarice were struggling with his better nature, and compelling him to pouch zecchin after zecchin while his generosity urged him to restore some part at least to his benefactor, or as a donation to his agent. His whole speech ran nearly thus:
“Seventy-one—seventy-two; thy master is a good youth—seventy-three, an excellent youth—seventy-four—that piece hath been clipt within the ring—seventy-five—and that looketh light of weight—seventy-six—when thy master wants money, let him come to Isaac of York—seventy-seven—that is, with reasonable security.” Here he made a considerable pause, and Gurth had good hope that the last three pieces might escape the fate of their comrades; but the enumeration proceeded.—“Seventy-eight—thou art a good fellow—seventy-nine—and deservest something for thyself—”
Here the Jew paused again, and looked at the last zecchin, intending, doubtless, to bestow it upon Gurth. He weighed it upon the tip of his finger, and made it ring by dropping it upon the table. Had it rung too flat, or had it felt a
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