Old Mortality & Ivanhoe (Illustrated Edition). Walter Scott
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“if there be in this neighbourhood any good man, who, for the love of God, and devotion to Mother Church, will give two of her humblest servants, with their train, a night’s hospitality and refreshment?”
This he spoke with a tone of conscious importance, which formed a strong contrast to the modest terms which he thought it proper to employ.
“Two of the humblest servants of Mother Church!” repeated Wamba to himself, — but, fool as he was, taking care not to make his observation audible; “I should like to see her seneschals, her chief butlers, and other principal domestics!”
After this internal commentary on the Prior’s speech, he raised his eyes, and replied to the question which had been put.
“If the reverend fathers,” he said, “loved good cheer and soft lodging, few miles of riding would carry them to the Priory of Brinxworth, where their quality could not but secure them the most honourable reception; or if they preferred spending a penitential evening, they might turn down yonder wild glade, which would bring them to the hermitage of Copmanhurst, where a pious anchoret would make them sharers for the night of the shelter of his roof and the benefit of his prayers.”
The Prior shook his head at both proposals.
“Mine honest friend,” said he, “if the jangling of thy bells had not dizzied thine understanding, thou mightst know “Clericus clericum non decimat”; that is to say, we churchmen do not exhaust each other’s hospitality, but rather require that of the laity, giving them thus an opportunity to serve God in honouring and relieving his appointed servants.”
“It is true,” replied Wamba, “that I, being but an ass, am, nevertheless, honoured to hear the bells as well as your reverence’s mule; notwithstanding, I did conceive that the charity of Mother Church and her servants might be said, with other charity, to begin at home.”
“A truce to thine insolence, fellow,” said the armed rider, breaking in on his prattle with a high and stern voice, “and tell us, if thou canst, the road to — How call’d you your Franklin, Prior Aymer?”
“Cedric,” answered the Prior; “Cedric the Saxon. — Tell me, good fellow, are we near his dwelling, and can you show us the road?”
“The road will be uneasy to find,” answered Gurth, who broke silence for the first time, “and the family of Cedric retire early to rest.”
“Tush, tell not me, fellow,” said the military rider; “’tis easy for them to arise and supply the wants of travellers such as we are, who will not stoop to beg the hospitality which we have a right to command.”
“I know not,” said Gurth, sullenly, “if I should show the way to my master’s house, to those who demand as a right, the shelter which most are fain to ask as a favour.”
“Do you dispute with me, slave!” said the soldier; and, setting spurs to his horse, he caused him make a demivolte across the path, raising at the same time the riding rod which he held in his hand, with a purpose of chastising what he considered as the insolence of the peasant.
Gurth darted at him a savage and revengeful scowl, and with a fierce, yet hesitating motion, laid his hand on the haft of his knife; but the interference of Prior Aymer, who pushed his mule betwixt his companion and the swineherd, prevented the meditated violence.
“Nay, by St Mary, brother Brian, you must not think you are now in Palestine, predominating over heathen Turks and infidel Saracens; we islanders love not blows, save those of holy Church, who chasteneth whom she loveth. — Tell me, good fellow,” said he to Wamba, and seconded his speech by a small piece of silver coin, “the way to Cedric the Saxon’s; you cannot be ignorant of it, and it is your duty to direct the wanderer even when his character is less sanctified than ours.”
“In truth, venerable father,” answered the Jester, “the Saracen head of your right reverend companion has frightened out of mine the way home — I am not sure I shall get there to-night myself.”
“Tush,” said the Abbot, “thou canst tell us if thou wilt. This reverend brother has been all his life engaged in fighting among the Saracens for the recovery of the Holy Sepulchre; he is of the order of Knights Templars, whom you may have heard of; he is half a monk, half a soldier.”
“If he is but half a monk,” said the Jester, “he should not be wholly unreasonable with those whom he meets upon the road, even if they should be in no hurry to answer questions that no way concern them.”
“I forgive thy wit,” replied the Abbot, “on condition thou wilt show me the way to Cedric’s mansion.”
“Well, then,” answered Wamba, “your reverences must hold on this path till you come to a sunken cross, of which scarce a cubit’s length remains above ground; then take the path to the left, for there are four which meet at Sunken Cross, and I trust your reverences will obtain shelter before the storm comes on.”
The Abbot thanked his sage adviser; and the cavalcade, setting spurs to their horses, rode on as men do who wish to reach their inn before the bursting of a night-storm. As their horses’ hoofs died away, Gurth said to his companion, “If they follow thy wise direction, the reverend fathers will hardly reach Rotherwood this night.”
“No,” said the Jester, grinning, “but they may reach Sheffield if they have good luck, and that is as fit a place for them. I am not so bad a woodsman as to show the dog where the deer lies, if I have no mind he should chase him.”
“Thou art right,” said Gurth; “it were ill that Aymer saw the Lady Rowena; and it were worse, it may be, for Cedric to quarrel, as is most likely he would, with this military monk. But, like good servants let us hear and see, and say nothing.”
We return to the riders, who had soon left the bondsmen far behind them, and who maintained the following conversation in the Norman-French language, usually employed by the superior classes, with the exception of the few who were still inclined to boast their Saxon descent.
“What mean these fellows by their capricious insolence?” said the Templar to the Benedictine, “and why did you prevent me from chastising it?”
“Marry, brother Brian,” replied the Prior, “touching the one of them, it were hard for me to render a reason for a fool speaking according to his folly; and the other churl is of that savage, fierce, intractable race, some of whom, as I have often told you, are still to be found among the descendants of the conquered Saxons, and whose supreme pleasure it is to testify, by all means in their power, their aversion to their conquerors.”
“I would soon have beat him into courtesy,” observed Brian; “I am accustomed to deal with such spirits: Our Turkish captives are as fierce and intractable as Odin himself could have been; yet two months in my household, under the management of my master of the slaves, has made them humble, submissive, serviceable, and observant of your will. Marry, sir, you must be aware of the poison and the dagger; for they use either with free will when you give them the slightest opportunity.”
“Ay, but,” answered Prior Aymer, “every land has its own manners and fashions; and, besides that beating this fellow could procure us no information respecting the road to Cedric’s house, it would have been sure to have established a quarrel betwixt you and him had we found our way thither. Remember what I told you: this wealthy franklin is proud, fierce, jealous, and irritable, a withstander of the nobility, and even of his neighbors, Reginald Front-de-Boeuf and Philip Malvoisin, who are no babies to strive with. He stands up sternly for the privileges of his race, and is so proud of his uninterrupted descend from Hereward, a renowned champion of the Heptarchy, that he is universally called Cedric the Saxon; and makes a boast of his belonging to a people from whom many others endeaver to hide their descent, lest they should encounter a share of the vae victis, or severities imposed upon the vanquished.”
“Prior Aymer,” said the Templar, “you are a man of gallantry, learned in the study of beauty, and as expert as a troubadour in all matters concerning the arrets of love; but I shall expect much beauty in this celebrated Rowena to counterbalance the self-denial and