Вальтер Скотт - Айвенго / Ivanhoe

“Do not forget about the wind, Hubert,” said Locksley, bending his bow.

So saying, and without stopping to aim, Locksley shot his arrow. The arrow hit the target two inches nearer to the white spot which marked the centre than that of Hubert.

“A man can only do his best,” said Hubert; “but my grandfather bent a good long bow at Hastings, and I will not dishonour his memory.”

He then resumed his place, and paid attention to a very light wind, which had just arisen, and shot so successfully that his arrow hit the very centre of the target.

“You cannot be better, Locksley,” said the Prince.

“I will hit his arrow, however,” replied Locksley and sent his arrow with a little more precaution than before. It hit the arrow of Hubert and split it to pieces. The people who stood around were so astonished, that they could not even shout. “This must be the devil, and no man of flesh and blood,” whispered the yeomen to each other.

Locksley won. He said, “These twenty coins I leave to Hubert, who has this day bent as good a bow as his grandfather did at Hastings.”

Then he mixed with the crowd and disappeared.

Waldemar Fitzurse worked hard to reunite the members of Prince John’s Party, who were frightened by the rumours of Richard’s freedom.

“If Richard returns,” Fitzurse said to them, “he returns to enrich his needy and impoverished crusaders at the expense of those who did not follow him to the Holy Land. He returns to punish as a rebel every follower of his brother Prince John. Are you afraid of his power? We know that he is a strong and brave knight, but he is alone”.

A meeting was appointed at York to make general preparations for placing the crown upon the head of Prince John.

It was late at night, when Fitzurse returned to the Castle of Ashby tired but satisfied. In the hall he met with De Bracy, who wore a short green cloak and had a short sword, a horn, a long bow and a bundle of arrows with him. He looked exactly like an English yeoman.

“What is this, De Bracy?” Fitzurse said angrily, “is this time the for Christmas games? What on Earth are you going to do dressed like that?”

“To get me a wife,” answered De Bracy, “I will attack the Saxons who have this night left the castle and carry off from them the lovely Rowena.”

“Are you mad, De Bracy?” said Fitzurse. “This is no time for crazy adventures.”

“Everybody will think that the Yorkshire robbers are responsible for that. Don’t I look like a yeoman?”

“If I cannot stop you,” said Fitzurse, “at least waste as little time as possible.”

“I’m telling you,” answered De Bracy, “all will be done in a few hours, and I will be back at York—ready to support you in anything. – Farewell. – I go, like a true knight, to win the smiles of beauty.”

“Like a true knight?” repeated Fitzurse, looking after him; “like a child, I would say, who leaves the most serious business to run after a butterfly. – But it is with such tools that I have to work.”

Black Knight, who had left the tournament without receiving his reward, was travelling to the North. But when he went into the big forest, he lost his way and decided to find some place to stay for the night. He soon came to a hermit’s hut at the bottom of a big rock with a rude wooden cross near the door. Not far from this hut there was a fountain of pure water which was the beginning of a small forest river.

The knight jumped from his horse and knocked on the door. At first the monk didn’t want to open it, but the knight insisted that he would go no further that night, and the monk let him in.

The hermit was a big and strong man in a hood which covered his face. There was little furniture inside the hut: a bed of leaves, a rude oaken cross, a prayer-book, a table and two stools.

The hermit refreshed the fire with some dry wood.

They sat down and looked at each other, each thinking that he had seldom seen a stronger or a more athletic figure than that which was placed opposite to him.

Then the monk put on the table a plate with some fried peas and a jug of water and set example to his guest by modestly putting into a very large mouth three or four peas.

The knight took off his helmet and most of his armour and showed to the hermit a head with yellow hair, blue eyes, remarkably bright and sparkling, and mustache darker than his hair. This was a face of a bold and energetic man.

The hermit, as if wishing to answer to the confidence of his guest, threw back his hood, and showed a face which was not like a face of an ascetic. His cheeks were as round and red as those of a trumpeter. Together with his massive figure, this showed that the monk ate something else in addition to peas, and his guest noticed it.

“It seems to me, father,” said the knight, “that this poor food makes miracles with you. Holy father, can I ask your name?”

“You can call me,” answered the hermit, “the Monk of Copmanhurst, that’s how I am called in these parts—They add the word ‘holy’, but I don’t insist on that. – And now, brave knight, what is your name?”

“Holy Monk of Copmanhurst”, said the knight, “men call me in these parts the Black Knight, – many, sir, add to it the word ‘Lazy’, but I do not insist on that at all.”

The hermit smiled.

“I see,” said he, “Sir Lazy Knight, that you are a clever man – and a man accustomed to the rich food that people eat in the cities. I think that I have some food for my guests that I completely forgot about.”

“I was convinced that there was better food in your house, Holy Monk, since the moment you threw away your hood,” – said the knight.

The hermit hesitated for a second and then went to the further side of the hut, where he opened a small door which was concealed with great care. Out of a dark closet he brought a large pie. He placed this dish before his guest, and the knight cut it with his knife and started eating.

The hermit looked miserable, he had to watch his guest eat his pie and had no pretext to join him.

“I have been in Palestine, Sir Monk,” said the knight, stopping suddenly, “and in Palestine the host should eat together with the guest to show that the food is good. Please follow this Eastern custom.”

“To make you comfortable, Sir Knight, I will break my rule once,” replied the hermit. And he joined his guest.

The ice of ceremony was broken, and the guest and the host started a competition for a better appetite. It was clear that the hermit won.

“Holy Clerk,” said the knight, “I am sure you have some wine for your guests which you have completely forgotten about.”

The hermit only smiled and took out of the same hidden cupboard a very big bottle and two large drinking cups. He filled both cups and saying, “Your health, Sir Lazy Knight!” he emptied his one.

“Your health, Holy Clerk of Copmanhurst!” answered the knight and emptied his. “Holy Clerk,” he went on, “I am surprised that such a strong man lives alone in this wild forest. In my judgment, you should be a commander of a castle, not live here upon peas and water, or even upon the food for your guests. At least, if I were you, I would hunt some of the King’s deer. [22]”

“Sir Lazy Knight,” replied the Clerk, “these are dangerous words. The deer belongs to the King, and I do not break laws.”

“Still, if I were you,” said the knight, “I would go hunting at night, when foresters and keepers are in bed. Tell me, Holy Clerk, have you ever tried this?”