Simon Hawke - Ivanhoe Gambit

The latter prospect did not seem to present an insurmountable problem. Isaac had been planning on journeying back to York. He would have been en route already had not Lucas presented him with a business opportunity, one that promised not to delay him overlong. The story Lucas had given Isaac had not been too far from the truth, at least insofar as their cover story was concerned. He had told Isaac that he had family nearby, which would be Cedric, and that since he had enemies among the Normans, he had to contact his family discreetly. The vow which he had taken would be fulfilled when he once again rejoined his family and then he could reveal himself in his true identity. Isaac had accepted that. Vows were very much in vogue and many of them seemed peculiar. They served, more often than not, merely to lend an air of glamor to the knights who took them. If Isaac could be persuaded that something had happened to Lucas, perhaps he would begin his journey to York, taking Hooker and the armor with him and retracing the route that Lucas was to have taken. The merchant would not travel alone. He would hire porters and guards, thereby making the trip safer not only for himself but for Hooker as well. After seeing his own corpse, Hooker had no desire to remain alone and vulnerable.

Asking Isaac directly did not seem to be the best course to take. It would be better to work on the young Rebecca.

She came to see him when she brought his meals. It was a function that should have been delegated to a servant, but Rebecca had her own reasons for bringing him his food herself. She wanted to find out more about the mysterious white knight, the handsome stranger who had defeated all the Normans at the tournament and who acted like no knight she had ever seen, quoting the prophet Isaiah in Hebrew.

At first, Hooker thought that revealing his knowledge of Hebrew had been a mistake for Lucas. Time commandos routinely had to speak in many different languages, which was facilitated by the implant programming. It became quite automatic, so that a soldier could not only speak in virtually any language, but think in it as well. It was imperative to a soldier's survival. Lucas might not even have intended to speak in Hebrew. Given such linguistic versatility, it was easy to slip if caught off guard. The natural tendency, if reciting a quotation, would be to do so in the original language rather than to translate it. It was the sort of thing soldiers had to be on guard against. But Rebecca was more than enough to catch anyone off guard.

She was, quite simply, the most beautiful woman Hooker had ever laid eyes on. He was still young, not yet a true veteran of the time wars and his service had been such that he had not had anything in the way of significant contact with women on the Minus side. He was used to modern women. The demure Rebecca, whose mercurial temper he had caught a glimpse of when she had chased off the physicians who had wanted to bleed Lucas, was quite unlike anyone he had ever met. One moment, she displayed all the spirit and vitality of the modern woman, the next, she was reserved and shy, a woman all too aware of the place she had been relegated to not only by her sex, but by her faith. She was a woman, real, tangible and indisputably human, but at the same time, she was to Hooker an embodiment of a romantic memory, a product of a simpler and more ethereal time. To the impressionable young corporal, she represented the romance which he had sought when he enlisted in the Temporal Corps. And, reality not withstanding, he was falling in love with her.

"How did your master learn the Hebrew tongue?" she asked him. "It is not knowledge one gains quickly. On your oath, now, speak the truth! Can it be that the white knight is, indeed, a Jew?"

"A Jew!" said Hooker. "How would a Jew come to embrace knighthood?"

"I do not know," she said. "It is a mystery. Yet, even though it is forbidden, it is not unheard of for a Jew to enter into a union outside the faith. A powerful love could perhaps accomplish such a thing, although it would be wrong. If a child were born of a Jewish father and a mother who was not a Jewess, then, in the eyes of our faith, that child would not be a true Jew. Our people have been sorely used and…" she blushed, "it sometimes came to pass that a child would be born of… of force and the father would not be known."

"But my master's father is known," said Hooker. "And Cedric the Saxon is no Jew."

"Cedric the Saxon! So your master is a Saxon, then!"

"Rebecca, I have already said too much," said Hooker.

"Oh, Poignard, I beg you, tell me his name! The secret would be safe with me. I would carry it with me to my grave if such were your master's wishes, on my God, I swear it!"

Hooker took her hand. "Very well, then, Rebecca, I will tell you. And you need not swear, for I believe you are in earnest. My master has long been away on the Crusades, fighting with the king to free the Holy Land. In truth, he does not speak Hebrew, he has but some knowledge of the tongue. He consoled himself with studies, learning what he could upon his travels to keep his mind from brooding, because he had a broken heart. Cedric was ill pleased when his son chose to follow Richard, for Cedric is a prideful Saxon and he does not love the Normans. But my master saw that Richard was a fair and noble man and that he thought of English people as his subjects, to be treated equally, not as Normans superior to Saxons. A people can only be strong when they are unified. Richard went to free the Holy Land because he felt that it was just and right. Cedric thinks only of freeing Saxons from the Normans.”

"So he has displeased his father and his heart is broken," said Rebecca.

"His heart was broken because his love was doomed," said Hooker, hating himself for manipulating her. "My master was in love with Cedric's ward, Rowena, who is promised to another."

"You say he was in love?" Rebecca said, unable to hide the note of hope in her voice.

"Perhaps it was merely lust, though it is truly not my place to say," said Hooker. "Forbidden fruit sometimes seems sweeter. My master has come home a tired, but wiser man. He now understands that there are more important things than lustful passions."

"You still have not told me his name," Rebecca said. "Cedric the Saxon is unknown to me. I do not know by what name he calls his son."

"Wilfred," Hooker said. "Wilfred of Ivanhoe. A noble knight to whom the king, in recognition of his service, has granted a barony. Yet, with Richard away, Prince John has seized the reins of power and has taken away the lands of many of Richard's faithful knights. Just as Prince John steals from Isaac, taking loans which are really tribute, so he has stolen from my master. Ivanhoe has come to aid the king in getting back his throne and, should his identity be known, John and his followers would try to stop him. Even now, Rebecca, I fear for his safety. He should have returned by now. He has gone to secure from Cedric his pardon and the monies to repay your father's loan. I fear something has happened to him. Perhaps he was attacked by outlaws, or thrown from his horse to lie senseless on the road somewhere. And here I sit, unable to go and search for him or help him!"

"Then you must depart at once," Rebecca said. "Find him, Poignard!"

"I cannot," said Hooker, averting his eyes. He couldn't look at her. She was so obviously infatuated with Lucas and he was using that against her. It wasn't fair. If she only felt that way for him, he'd desert the service, convert to Judaism and… but that was unthinkable. He had to control his emotions. He was a soldier and he had a job to do.

"But you must go seek him out!" Rebecca said.

"I am given in pledge to your father, along with my master's arms," said Hooker. "If I were to leave now, I would be an escaped bondsman and the penalty for that is severe."