Вальтер Скотт: Айвенго / Ivanhoe

“It is better,” he said, “than I could have supposed. I feel already that I can put on my armour.”

“Now, the saints forbid,” said the Prior, “that the son of the Saxon Cedric should leave our convent before his wounds are healed!”

“Venerable father,” said Ivanhoe, “I feel ready to travel and it is necessary for me to travel. I have a feeling the knight who left me here is in danger, and I ask you to give me a horse with a soft step.”

“You will have my own horse,” said the worthy churchman.

“Thank you, reverend father. And now, farewell!”

Ivanhoe jumped on the horse and commanded Gurth to keep close by his side. They followed the track of the Black Knight into the forest.

In the meantime, the Black Champion and his guide were pacing at their leisure through the recesses of the forest.

“There are,” said Wamba, coming close up to the Knight’s side, “companions who are far more dangerous for travellers to meet than the bandits we have just left.”

“And who may they be?” said the Knight.

“I mean Malvoisin’s soldiers,” said Wamba; “and let me tell you, that, in time of civil war, six of these are worth a band of wolves at any time. They are now reinforced with the soldiers that escaped from Torquilstone. So that, should we meet with a band of them, we are like to pay for our feats of arms. – Now, I pray you, Sir Knight, what would you do if we met two of them?”

“Attack them with my lance, Wamba, if they offered us any impediment.”

“But what if there were four of them?”

“They would drink of the same cup,” answered the Knight.

“What if six,” continued Wamba, “and we as we now are, barely two—would you not remember Locksley’s horn?”

“What! Call for help,” exclaimed the Knight, “against six of these bandits?”

“Then,” said Wamba, “I will ask you to have a look at that horn.”

The Knight took off the horn and gave it to the Jester, who immediately hung it round his own neck.

“What are you doing, knave?” said the Knight, “Give it back.”

“Don’t worry, Sir Knight, it is safe. When a knight and a fool travel together, the fool should bear the horn, because he can blow the best. And now let the knight prepare for battle, because if I am not mistaken, there are company in these trees that is on the look-out for us. I have twice noticed the glance of a motion from amongst the green leaves. These trees are ideal for an ambush.”

At that moment three arrows shot from the suspected trees, but they could not penetrate the knight’s armour.

“Wamba,” said the Knight, “let us attack them,”—and he rode straight to the trees. He was met by six or seven soldiers, who rode against him with their lances at full career. Three of the weapons struck against him, and splintered with as little effect as if they had been driven against a tower of steel. The Black Knight’s eyes seemed to flash fire even through the aperture of his visor. He raised himself in his stirrups with an air of inexpressible dignity, and exclaimed, “What means this, my masters!”. The men made no other reply than by drawing their swords and attacking him on every side, crying, “Die, tyrant!”

“Ha! Saint Edward! Ha! Saint George!” said the Black Knight, striking down a man with every exclamation; “do we have traitors here?”

His opponents, desperate as they were, bore back from an arm which carried death in every blow, and it seemed as if the terror of his single strength was about to gain the battle against such odds, when a knight, in blue armour, who had until this time kept himself behind the other assailants, spurred forward with his lance, and taking aim, not at the rider but at the steed, wounded the noble animal mortally.

“That was a felon stroke!” exclaimed the Black Knight, as the steed fell to the earth, bearing his rider along with him.

And at this moment Wamba blew the horn. The sudden sound made the attackers stop for a second and Wamba did not hesitate to run and help the Black Knight to rise.

“Shame on you, cowards!” exclaimed the knight in blue armour, who seemed to lead the attackers, “do you fly from the empty blast of a horn blown by a Jester?”

Animated by his words, they again attacked the Black Knight, who now stood with his back against an oak and defended himself with his sword. The leader of the attackers galloped against the Black Knight hoping to kill him with his lance, but Wamba suddenly attacked his horse with a sword. Both horse and man fell to the ground, but the situation of the Black Knight continued to be very dangerous, because he began to feel tired from defending himself against several well armed men. At that moment a band of yeomen came out of the forest, headed by Locksley and the Friar, who soon killed all the attackers. The Black Knight thanked his deliverers with dignity.

“It is important to know,” he said, “who have been my unprovoked enemies. – Take off the helmet of that Blue Knight, Wamba.”

The Jester quickly came to the leader of the attackers, who lay under his wounded horse unable to run or to fight, and took off his helmet.

“Waldemar Fitzurse!” said the Black Knight in astonishment; “what could make you take part in a murder? Who sent you?”

“Your father’s son,” answered Waldemar.

“You do not ask for your life, Waldemar,” said the King.

“He that is in the lion’s clutch,” answered Fitzurse, “knows it were needless.”

“Take it, then, unasked,” said Richard. – “Take your life, but with this condition, that in three days you will leave England and never will you mention that it was my brother who sent you to kill me. Let this knight have a steed, Locksley, I see your yeomen have caught those which were running loose, and let him depart unharmed.”

“But that I judge I listen to a voice whose commands must not be disputed,” answered the yeoman.

“You guessed right, Locksley,” said the Black Knight, “I am Richard of England!”

At these words the yeomen at once kneeled down before him, and at the same time tendered their allegiance, and implored pardon for their offences.

“Rise, my friends,” said Richard, in a gracious tone. Your sins are forgiven, you have rescued your sovereign today. And you, brave Locksley—”

“Don’t call me Locksley, my King, – I am Robin Hood of Sherwood Forest.”

“King of robbers, and Prince of good fellows!” said the King.

“True says the proverb,” said Wamba, “when the cat is away, the mice will play.’”

“What, Wamba, are you here?” said Richard, “I thought you have run.”

“I ran?” said Wamba, “It is true, I stepped back at first, but I gave the signal to attack.”

“And to good purpose, honest Wamba,” replied the King. “Your good service will not be forgotten.”

At the same time, two additional personages appeared on the scene.

The new comers were Wilfred of Ivanhoe and Gurth. Ivanhoe was astonished, when he saw six or seven dead bodies lying around his King. He hesitated how to address the King. Richard saw his embarrassment.

“Don’t fear, Wilfred,” he said, “to address Richard Plantagenet as himself when you see him in the company of true English hearts, although it may be they have been brought a few steps aside by warm English blood.”

When the King explained to Ivanhoe what had happened, the young knight exclaimed, “Why, oh why, noble Prince, do you make your faithful servants fear for your life as if it were of no more value than that of a mere travelling knight?”

“And Richard Plantagenet,” said the King, “desires no more fame than he can win with a good lance and a sword.”