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The Palmer took the torch from the domestic’s hand, thanked him, and wished him good-night.
The Palmer woke up with sunrise, said his prayers, left his room and entered the room of Isaac the Jew. The Jew was sleeping with a worried face. His hands and arms were moving convulsively, as if struggling with the nightmare.
The Palmer touched him with his staff. The old man woke up, his grey hair standing almost erect upon his head.
“Don’t fear me, Isaac,” said the Palmer, “I come as your friend.”
“May the God of Israel bless you,” said the Jew, greatly relieved. Then, collecting himself, he added in his usual tone, “And what do you want at so early an hour with the poor Jew?”
“I want to tell you,” said the Palmer, “that if you don’t leave this mansion at once, your journey may become dangerous. When the Templar crossed the hall yesterday night, he spoke to his Muslim slaves in the Saracen language, which I understand, and told them to catch the Jew on the road and bring him to the castle of Reginald Front-de-Boeuf.”
It is impossible to describe the terror which seized upon the Jew at this information.
“Holy God of Abraham!” cried he, raising his wrinkled hands, “Oh, holy Moses! Oh, blessed Aaron! They are going to torture me!”
“Isaac, listen to me,” said the Palmer, who watched the old man’s distress with compassion, “you have a reason to be afraid, but calm down, and I will show you how to escape. Leave this mansion right now, while everybody is asleep. I will guide you by the secret roads of the forest and I will not leave you until you are safe. Or, if you don’t trust me, you can remain here—Cedric the Saxon will protect you.”
“Oh, he will not let me go with him!” said the Jew, “Saxon or Norman will be equally ashamed of the poor Israelite, and I cannot travel alone—Good man, I will go with you! Let us hurry!”
“We will go now,” said the Palmer, “but I must find us a way out, follow me.”
He went to the small room next door, which was occupied by Gurth the swineherd. – ”Wake up, Gurth,” said the Palmer, “wake up now. Open the small gate, and let out the Jew and me.”
Gurth was offended at the familiar and commanding tone in which the Palmer spoke.
“Both Jew and yourself must wait until the big gate is open—we don’t let our visitors out in secret.”
“Still,” said the Palmer, “you will do it for me.”
So saying, the Palmer leaned and whispered something in swineherd’s ear in Saxon. Gurth jumped up as if electrified. The Palmer raised his finger and added, “Gurth, be careful. I say, open the small gate and give us two mules—you will know more soon.”
Gurth hurried to obey him.
“I wish I knew,” said Wamba, who was watching this scene, when his friend left, “what you Palmers learn in the Holy Land.”
“To say our prayers, fool,” answered the Palmer.
“Something more powerful than that,” answered the Jester; “for when did a prayer make Gurth do something?”
At this moment Gurth came back with two mules and let the travellers out. When the travellers were mounting the mules, the Palmer reached his hand to Gurth, who kissed it.
The swineherd stood gazing after the travellers until they were lost in the forest.
“You know,” said Wamba, “my good friend Gurth, that you are strangely polite on this summer morning? I wish I were a monk – I would get much more from you than a kiss of the hand.”
Meanwhile the travellers went through the forest in a great hurry. After some time they paused at the top of a hill, and the Palmer said, pointing to the town which lay beneath them, “This is the town of Sheffield, where you can easily find many of your people who will accept you. Here we part.”
“Not until you have the poor Jew’s thanks,” said Isaac.
“I don’t want any reward,” answered the Palmer.
“Stay, stay,” said the Jew, “the Jew is poor—yes, Isaac is the beggar of his tribe—but forgive me if I guess what you need most at this moment. You wish even now for a horse and armour.”
The Palmer stopped, and turned suddenly towards the Jew. – “How did you guess?” said he, hastily.
“Well,” said the Jew, smiling, “I’ve heard it in your voice and I have seen a knight’s chain hidden under the dress of the Palmer. I know what you want and I can supply it.” Isaac wrote a note and gave it to the Palmer, saying, “In the town of Leicester all men know the rich Jew Kirjath Jairam of Lombardy, give him this scroll and he will give you a horse and the armour you need. After the tournament you will return them safely—unless you have the money to pay for them.”
“Thank you,” said the Palmer, and they parted and took different roads for the town of Sheffield.
* * *
Near the town of Ashby there was a large field which was a perfect place for the tournament. A long space surrounded by a wooden palisade formed the lists. There were two entrances: at the southern and at the northern ends of the enclosed space.
On a platform beyond the southern entrance there were five big tents of the five knights-challengers. Before each tent lay the shield of the knight by whom it was occupied. The central tent, as the place of honour, had been assigned to Brian be Bois-Guilbert, who was the leader of the challengers.
The northern entrance to the lists was prepared for those knights who wanted to enter the lists with the challengers.
Around the lists there were temporary galleries for those ladies and nobles who were expected to come to the tournament. Other spectators occupied the narrow space between these galleries and the lists or sat on the elevated ground behind the galleries.
One gallery in the centre of the eastern side of the lists was higher than the others, more richly decorated, and had a sort of throne in it. This place of honour was prepared for Prince John and his followers. Opposite to this royal gallery was another, with a throne decorated in pink and green. That was the seat of the Queen of Beauty and of Love.
When spectators of every sort came to take places, there were many quarrels. Two heralds and some guards were responsible for maintaining the order. Gradually the galleries were filled with knights and nobles. The lower and interior space was soon filled by yeomen. Even Isaac the Jew, who came to the tournament in his most expensive clothes, tried to find a better place for himself and his beautiful daughter Rebecca. He was not afraid to do so, because on such public occasions Jews were under the protection of the King and his laws, so Isaac even tried to move some Normans from their places, but he had little success.
At that moment Prince John entered the lists accompanied by his followers. Among them were the Prior of Jorvaulx and the leaders of his mercenaries together with several Knights Templars and Knights of St John. The Prince noticed the ambitious movement of Isaac towards the higher places. The quick eye of Prince John instantly recognized the Jew, but was much more attracted by his beautiful daughter.
Rebecca was indeed very beautiful. Her turban of yellow silk suited well with her dark face. The brilliancy of her eyes, the arch of her eyebrows, her elegant aquiline nose, her teeth as white as pearls, and her black hair – all these made her look lovely.
“Who is she, Isaac? Your wife or your daughter?” asked Prince John.
“My daughter Rebecca, your Grace,” answered Isaac, with a low bow.
“Daughter or wife, she should be given place according to her beauty and your wealth. Who sits above there?” he continued, looking at the gallery. “Saxon fools! Let them sit close, and make room for my prince of usurers[16 - prince of usurers – «принц ростовщиков». Ростовщичество и иные финансовые операции были основной сферой деятельности евреев в Средневековой Европе. Большинство других профессий было им по тем или иным причинам недоступно.] and his lovely daughter.”
The Saxons who occupied the gallery were the family of Cedric the Saxon with his friend Athelstane of Coningsburgh, who was very much respected by all the Saxons of the north of England due to his descent from the last Saxon monarchs of England. But his royal blood brought to Athelstane many defects of his ancestors. He was strong and good-looking, but inactive and so slow in making decisions, that he was generally called Athelstane the Unready.
It was this person that the Prince commanded to make place for Isaac and Rebecca. Athelstane was offended and was not going to obey, but he didn’t know how to react to this command, so he just sat there, staring at the Prince with an astonishment which was even funny. But Prince John didn’t think it was so.
“The Saxon is either asleep or doesn’t pay attention to me. Wake him up with your lance, De Bracy,” he said to a knight who rode near him, the leader of a band of mercenaries. Even the followers of Prince John did not think it was a good idea, but De Bracy extended his long lance over the space which separated the gallery from the lists. The Athelstane was not ready for this, but Cedric quickly took out his short sword and cut off the head of the lance with one blow. The Prince was very angry, but he was stopped from threatening Cedric by his own followers, who gathered around him asking him to be patient. The crowd answered in loud applause to the bold action of Cedric.
The Prince was looking for a safe and easy victim for his anger, when he noticed some archer who continued to clasp hands even when he saw the frowning face of the Prince. John asked why he was clasping.
“I always clasp,” said the yeoman, “when I see a good shot or an elegant blow.”
“Then you can hit the mark yourself, I hope,” said the Prince.
“An archer’s mark, and at archer’s distance, I can hit,” answered the yeoman.
“We will try your skill!”
“I will not run from the trial,” said the yeoman calmly.
“Now, stand up, you Saxons,” said the angry Prince, “because, since I have said it, the Jew will have his seat among you!”
“By no means, your Grace![17 - By no means, your Grace! – «Никоим образом, Ваше Высочество!»] —it is not fit for us to sit with the rulers of the land,” said the Jew.
“Go up, dog, when I command you,” said Prince John, “or I will have your skin taken off and used for decoration.”
After this command the Jew began to climb the stairs which led up to the gallery.
“Let me see who will stop him”, said the Prince fixing his eye on Cedric, who seemed ready to throw the Jew down head first.
The catastrophe was prevented by the clown Wamba. He stood up between his master and Isaac and put before the face of the Jew a piece of salted pork which he was keeping beneath his cloak in case the tournament was too long. When the Jew saw pork right before his nose, he took a step back, stumbled, and rolled down the steps, – to the amusement of everybody around, including Prince John and his followers.
“Give me some prize, Prince,” said Wamba, “I have defeated my enemy in fair fight with my sword,” he added, showing the piece of pork.
“Who are you, noble champion?” said Prince John, still laughing.
“A fool by right of descent,” answered the Jester, “I am Wamba, the son of Witless.”
“Make room for the Jew in the lower row,” said Prince John, “it is not right to place the defeated next to the victor. Here, Isaac, lend me some money.”
Since the Jew was slow to obey his command, the Prince took his purse, threw to Wamba a couple of the gold coins which it contained, and continued his career round the lists, leaving the Jew to the laughter of those around him, and himself receiving as much applause from the spectators as if he had done something honest and honourable.
* * *
Soon the tournament began. The barriers were opened, and five knights rode slowly into the lists. All five were splendidly armed. The champions rode through the lists to the other end. As the procession entered the lists, the sound of a wild Barbaric music was heard from behind the tents of the challengers, where the performers were concealed. The music was of Eastern origin and seemed at once to bid welcome and to pronounce challenge to the knights as they advanced. The five knights came to the tents of the challengers, and there each touched slightly, and with the reverse of his lance, the shield of the antagonist whom he wished to oppose. This showed that they didn’t want to fight to the death.
The challengers mounted their horses, and, headed by Brian de Bois-Guilbert rode into the lists and opposed themselves individually to the knights who had touched their shields.
At the sound of trumpets, they started out against each other at full gallop, and such was the superior skill or good fortune of the challengers, that those opposed to Bois-Guilbert, Malvoisin, and Front-de-Boeuf rolled on the ground. Only one knight maintained the honour of his party, and parted equally with the Knight of St John, both breaking their lances without advantage on either side.
The shouts of the crowd announced the triumph of the challengers.
A second and a third party of knights took the field, but still the challengers won. Not one of them lost his seat or missed his target. After the fourth party there was a long pause. The spectators were not very satisfied, because Malvoisin and Front-de-Boeuf were unpopular for their characters.
Prince John began to talk to his followers about making ready the banquet and giving the prize to Brian de Bois-Guilbert, who had, with a single spear, overthrown two knights, and defeated a third.
After some time, when the Eastern music of the challengers sounded again, it was answered by a solitary trumpet. All eyes turned to see the new champion which these sounds announced. On his shield there was a young oak-tree pulled up by the roots, with the word Disinherited. He rode a good black horse, and as he passed through the lists he gracefully saluted the Prince and the ladies by lowering his lance. The skill with which he managed his horse, and something of youthful grace which he showed in his manner, won him the favour of the spectators, which some of the simple people expressed by calling out, “Touch the Hospitaller’s shield, he is the weakest.”
The champion however rode straight to the central tent and struck with the sharp end of his spear the shield of Brian de Bois-Guilbert. All stood astonished at his bravery, but none more than Bois-Guilbert himself, who did not expect challenge to mortal combat and was standing carelessly at the entrance of his tent.
“Have you been to church this morning, brother,” said the Templar, “and have you gone to confession, that you put your life in such danger?”
“I am fitter to meet death than you are,” answered the Disinherited Knight.
“Then take your place in the lists,” said Bois-Guilbert, “and look for the last time upon the sun. This night you will sleep in paradise.”
“Thank you for your advice,” replied the Disinherited Knight, “and to answer it, I advise you to take a fresh horse and a new lance, for by my honour you will need both.”
After this he rode to the northern end of the lists, where he stood still, in expectation of his antagonist.
This piece of advice made Brian de Bois-Guilbert very angry, however he did not ignore it. He changed his horse for a fresh one of great strength. He chose a new and a tough spear. He also laid aside his shield, which had received some little damage, and took another from his squires.
The two champions stood opposite each other at the two ends of the lists. The trumpets gave the signal and the champions vanished from their posts with the speed of lightning, and clashed in the centre of the lists with the sound of thunderbolt. The lances burst into pieces, and it seemed for a moment that both knights would fall. However they managed their horses and returned to their positions, where each received a fresh lance from his squire.
A loud shout announced the interest of the spectators, but when the knights returned to their positions there was a silence, so deep and so dead, that it seemed the people were afraid even to breathe. After a short pause the champions again met in the centre of the lists, with the same speed, the same skill, the same violence, but not the same result as before.
The Templar aimed at the centre of his antagonist’s shield, and struck it so hard that the Disinherited Knight was shaken in his saddle. On the other hand, that champion had, at first, directed the point of his lance towards Bois-Guilbert’s shield, but, changing his aim almost in the moment of the clash, he pointed it to the helmet, a more difficult aim which also made the shock more irresistible. He hit the Norman hard on the helmet. The Templar was a very good rider, but when the straps of his saddle burst, he fell on the ground together with his horse.
In a moment he was on his feet, mad with fury and ready to fight with his sword. The Disinherited Knight jumped from his horse and also took out his sword. The marshals of the field,[18 - the marshals of the field – маршалами назывались люди благородного происхождения, следившие за исполнением правил турнира на арене, а также исполнявшие обязанности судей.] however, separated them because the laws of the tournament did not on this day permit this kind of fighting.
“We will meet again,” said the Templar, “and where there are none to separate us.”
“If we do not,” said the Disinherited Knight, “the fault will not be mine.”
With these words the Disinherited Knight returned to his first station.
He then commanded a herald to announce to the challengers, that he was ready to meet them in the order in which they chose to advance against him.
The gigantic Front-de-Boeuf in black armour was the first who took the field. On his white shield there was a black bull’s head and the words, “Beware, I’m here”. This champion lost a stirrup in the fight and the judges decided that the Disinherited knight was the victor.
In the stranger’s third fight with Sir Philip Malvoisin, he was equally successful; striking that baron so hard on the helmet, that its laces broke, and the helmet fell off, and Malvoisin was declared defeated like his companions.
In his fourth combat with De Grantmesnil, the Disinherited Knight showed as much courtesy as he had showed courage and skill in the previous fights. De Grantmesnil’s horse, which was young, ran from its course and the rider couldn’t aim, but the stranger did not use this situation, he raised his lance and passed his antagonist without touching him. Then he sent a herald to invite his antagonist to meet for the second time. This De Grantmesnil declined, saying he was defeated by the courtesy of his opponent.
Ralph de Vipont summed up the list of the stranger’s triumphs, when he fell to the ground with such force, that the blood ran from his nose and his mouth, and he was carried away senseless.
The acclamations of thousands applauded the unanimous award of the Prince and marshals, announcing that day’s victor to be the Disinherited Knight.
* * *
The marshals of the field were the first to offer their congratulations to the victor. They asked him, at the same time, to remove his helmet before they conducted him to receive the prize of the day’s tourney from the hands of Prince John. The Disinherited Knight refused politely to do so, saying that he could not at this time allow his face to be seen. The marshals were perfectly satisfied by this reply, because it was then usual for knights to swear to remain incognito for a certain time or until some particular adventure was achieved. So the marshals announced to Prince John the winner’s desire to remain unknown.
John was both curious and displeased with the result of the tournament, in which the challengers whom he supported had been defeated by one knight.
“What do you think, my lords,” he said, turning round to his followers, “who can this proud knight be?”
“I cannot guess,” answered De Bracy.
“The victor,” said the marshals, “is still waiting the pleasure of Your Highness.”
“It is our pleasure,” answered John, “that he will wait until we can guess who he is.”
“Your Grace,” said Waldemar Fitzurse, “you cannot make the victor wait until we tell Your Highness something that we cannot know. At least I can’t guess who he can be, unless he is one of the knights who went with King Richard to Palestine.”
A whisper arose among the Prince’s followers, “It might be the King—it might be Richard the Lionheart himself!”
“God forbid!” said Prince John, turning at the same time as pale as death; “Waldemar! – De Bracy! Brave knights and gentlemen, remember your promises, and stand truly by me!”
