Waverley, Ivanhoe & Rob Roy (Illustrated Edition). Walter Scott
Читать онлайн книгу.
the canon, were loaded with precious gems; his sandals were of the finest leather which was imported from Spain; his beard trimmed to as small dimensions as his order would possibly permit, and his shaven crown concealed by a scarlet cap richly embroidered.
The appearance of the Knight Templar was also changed; and, though less studiously bedecked with ornament, his dress was as rich, and his appearance far more commanding, than that of his companion. He had exchanged his shirt of mail for an under tunic of dark purple silk, garnished with furs, over which flowed his long robe of spotless white, in ample folds. The eight-pointed cross of his order was cut on the shoulder of his mantle in black velvet. The high cap no longer invested his brows, which were only shaded by short and thick curled hair of a raven blackness, corresponding to his unusually swart complexion. Nothing could be more gracefully majestic than his step and manner, had they not been marked by a predominant air of haughtiness, easily acquired by the exercise of unresisted authority.
These two dignified persons were followed by their respective attendants, and at a more humble distance by their guide, whose figure had nothing more remarkable than it derived from the usual weeds of a pilgrim. A cloak or mantle of coarse black serge, enveloped his whole body. It was in shape something like the cloak of a modern hussar, having similar flaps for covering the arms, and was called a “Sclaveyn”, or “Sclavonian”. Coarse sandals, bound with thongs, on his bare feet; a broad and shadowy hat, with cockle-shells stitched on its brim, and a long staff shod with iron, to the upper end of which was attached a branch of palm, completed the palmer’s attire. He followed modestly the last of the train which entered the hall, and, observing that the lower table scarce afforded room sufficient for the domestics of Cedric and the retinue of his guests, he withdrew to a settle placed beside and almost under one of the large chimneys, and seemed to employ himself in drying his garments, until the retreat of some one should make room at the board, or the hospitality of the steward should supply him with refreshments in the place he had chosen apart.
Cedric rose to receive his guests with an air of dignified hospitality, and, descending from the dais, or elevated part of his hall, made three steps towards them, and then awaited their approach.
“I grieve,” he said, “reverend Prior, that my vow binds me to advance no farther upon this floor of my fathers, even to receive such guests as you, and this valiant Knight of the Holy Temple. But my steward has expounded to you the cause of my seeming discourtesy. Let me also pray, that you will excuse my speaking to you in my native language, and that you will reply in the same if your knowledge of it permits; if not, I sufficiently understand Norman to follow your meaning.”
“Vows,” said the Abbot, “must be unloosed, worthy Franklin, or permit me rather to say, worthy Thane, though the title is antiquated. Vows are the knots which tie us to Heaven — they are the cords which bind the sacrifice to the horns of the altar, — and are therefore, — as I said before, — to be unloosened and discharged, unless our holy Mother Church shall pronounce the contrary. And respecting language, I willingly hold communication in that spoken by my respected grandmother, Hilda of Middleham, who died in odour of sanctity, little short, if we may presume to say so, of her glorious namesake, the blessed Saint Hilda of Whitby, God be gracious to her soul!”
When the Prior had ceased what he meant as a conciliatory harangue, his companion said briefly and emphatically, “I speak ever French, the language of King Richard and his nobles; but I understand English sufficiently to communicate with the natives of the country.”
Cedric darted at the speaker one of those hasty and impatient glances, which comparisons between the two rival nations seldom failed to call forth; but, recollecting the duties of hospitality, he suppressed further show of resentment, and, motioning with his hand, caused his guests to assume two seats a little lower than his own, but placed close beside him, and gave a signal that the evening meal should be placed upon the board.
While the attendants hastened to obey Cedric’s commands, his eye distinguished Gurth the swineherd, who, with his companion Wamba, had just entered the hall. “Send these loitering knaves up hither,” said the Saxon, impatiently. And when the culprits came before the dais, — “How comes it, villains! that you have loitered abroad so late as this? Hast thou brought home thy charge, sirrah Gurth, or hast thou left them to robbers and marauders?”
“The herd is safe, so please ye,” said Gurth.
“But it does not please me, thou knave,” said Cedric, “that I should be made to suppose otherwise for two hours, and sit here devising vengeance against my neighbours for wrongs they have not done me. I tell thee, shackles and the prison-house shall punish the next offence of this kind.”
Gurth, knowing his master’s irritable temper, attempted no exculpation; but the Jester, who could presume upon Cedric’s tolerance, by virtue of his privileges as a fool, replied for them both; “In troth, uncle Cedric, you are neither wise nor reasonable to-night.”
“‘How, sir?” said his master; “you shall to the porter’s lodge, and taste of the discipline there, if you give your foolery such license.”
“First let your wisdom tell me,” said Wamba, “is it just and reasonable to punish one person for the fault of another?”
“Certainly not, fool,” answered Cedric.
“Then why should you shackle poor Gurth, uncle, for the fault of his dog Fangs? for I dare be sworn we lost not a minute by the way, when we had got our herd together, which Fangs did not manage until we heard the vesper-bell.”
“Then hang up Fangs,” said Cedric, turning hastily towards the swineherd, “if the fault is his, and get thee another dog.”
“Under favour, uncle,” said the Jester, “that were still somewhat on the bow-hand of fair justice; for it was no fault of Fangs that he was lame and could not gather the herd, but the fault of those that struck off two of his fore-claws, an operation for which, if the poor fellow had been consulted, he would scarce have given his voice.”
“And who dared to lame an animal which belonged to my bondsman?” said the Saxon, kindling in wrath.
“Marry, that did old Hubert,” said Wamba, “Sir Philip de Malvoisin’s keeper of the chase. He caught Fangs strolling in the forest, and said he chased the deer contrary to his master’s right, as warden of the walk.”
“The foul fiend take Malvoisin,” answered the Saxon, “and his keeper both! I will teach them that the wood was disforested in terms of the great Forest Charter. But enough of this. Go to, knave, go to thy place — and thou, Gurth, get thee another dog, and should the keeper dare to touch it, I will mar his archery; the curse of a coward on my head, if I strike not off the forefinger of his right hand! — he shall draw bowstring no more. — I crave your pardon, my worthy guests. I am beset here with neighbours that match your infidels, Sir Knight, in Holy Land. But your homely fare is before you; feed, and let welcome make amends for hard fare.”
The feast, however, which was spread upon the board, needed no apologies from the lord of the mansion. Swine’s flesh, dressed in several modes, appeared on the lower part of the board, as also that of fowls, deer, goats, and hares, and various kinds of fish, together with huge loaves and cakes of bread, and sundry confections made of fruits and honey. The smaller sorts of wild-fowl, of which there was abundance, were not served up in platters, but brought in upon small wooden spits or broaches, and offered by the pages and domestics who bore them, to each guest in succession, who cut from them such a portion as he pleased. Beside each person of rank was placed a goblet of silver; the lower board was accommodated with large drinking horns.
When the repast was about to commence, the major-domo, or steward, suddenly raising his wand, said aloud, — “Forbear! — Place for the Lady Rowena.”
A side-door at the upper end of the hall now opened behind the banquet table, and Rowena, followed by four female attendants, entered the apartment. Cedric, though surprised, and perhaps not altogether agreeably so, at his ward appearing in public on this occasion, hastened to meet her, and to conduct her, with respectful ceremony, to the elevated seat at his own right hand, appropriated to the lady of the mansion. All stood up