And now the towering flames surmounted every obstruction, and rose to the evening skies one huge and burning beacon. Tower after tower crashed down, with blazing roof and rafter, and the combatants were driven from the courtyard.
When the last turret gave way, the voice of Robin Hood was heard, "Shout, yeomen!--the den of tyrants is no more! Let each bring his spoil to our chosen place of rendezvous, and there at break of day will be made just part.i.tion among our own bands, together with our allies in this great deed of vengeance."
Cedric, ere he departed, earnestly entreated the Black Knight to accompany him to Rotherwood, "not as a guest, but as a son or brother."
"To Rotherwood will I come, brave Saxon," said the Knight, "and that speedily. Peradventure, when I come, I will ask such a boon as will put even thy generosity to the test."
"It is granted already," said Cedric, "were it to affect half my fortune. But my heart is oppressed with sadness, for the n.o.ble Athelstane is no more. I have but to say," he added, "that during the funeral rites I shall inhabit his castle of Coningsburgh--which will be open to all who choose to partake of the funeral banqueting."
Rowena waved a graceful adieu to the Black Knight, the Saxon bade G.o.d speed him, and on they moved through a wide glade of the forest.
_IV.--Ivanhoe"s Wedding_
At the castle of Coningsburgh all was a scene of busy commotion when the Black Knight, attended by Ivanhoe, who had m.u.f.fled his face in his mantle, entered and was welcomed gravely by Cedric--by common consent the chief of the distinguished Saxon families present.
"I crave to remind you, n.o.ble Thane," said the Knight, "that when we last parted, you promised, for the service I had the fortune to render you, to grant me a boon."
"It is granted ere named, n.o.ble Knight," said Cedric; "yet, at this sad moment----"
"Of that also," said the Knight, "I have bethought me--but my time is brief--neither does it seem to me unfit that, in the grave of the n.o.ble Athelstane, we should deposit certain prejudices and hasty opinions."
"Sir Knight," said Cedric, colouring, "in that which concerns the honour of my house, it is scarce fitting a stranger should mingle."
"Nor do I wish to mingle," said the Knight, mildly, "unless you will admit me to have an interest. As yet you have known me but as the Black Knight--know me now as Richard Plantagenet, King of England. And now to my boon. I require of thee, as a man of thy word, to forgive and receive to thy paternal affection the good Knight, Wilfred of Ivanhoe."
"My father!--my father!" said Ivanhoe, prostrating himself at Cedric"s feet, "grant me thy forgiveness."
"Thou hast it, my son," said Cedric, raising him up. "The son of Hereward knows how to keep his word, even when it has been pa.s.sed to a Norman. Thou art about to speak, and I guess the topic. The Lady Rowena must complete two years mourning as for a betrothed husband. The ghost of Athelstane himself would stand before us to forbid such dishonour to his memory were it otherwise."
Scarce had Cedric spoken than the door flew open, and Athelstane, arrayed in the garments of the grave, stood before them, pale, haggard, and like something arisen from the dead!
"In the name of G.o.d," said Cedric, starting back, "if thou art mortal, speak! Living or dead, n.o.ble Athelstane, speak to Cedric!"
"I will," said the spectre, very composedly, "when I have collected breath. Alive, saidst thou? I am as much alive as he can be who has fed on bread and water for three days. I went down under the Templar"s sword, stunned, indeed, but unwounded, for the blade struck me flatlings, being averted by the good mace with which I warded the blow.
Others, of both sides, were beaten down and slaughtered above me, so that I never recovered my senses until I found myself in a coffin--an open one, by good luck--placed before the altar in church. But that villain Abbot has kept me a prisoner for three days and he shall hang on the top of this castle of Coningsburgh, in his cope and stole. I will be king in my own domains, and nowhere else. Cedric, I rise from the tomb a wiser man than I descended."
"My ward, Rowena," said Cedric--"you do not intend to desert her?"
"Father Cedric," said Athelstane, "be reasonable. The Lady Rowena cares not for me--she loves the little finger of my kinsman Wilfred"s glove better than my whole person. There she stands to avouch it--nay, blush not, kinswoman, there is no shame in loving a courtly knight better than a country thane,--and do not laugh neither, Rowena, for grave-clothes and a thin visage are, G.o.d knows, no matter of merriment. Nay, as thou wilt needs laugh, I will find thee a better jest--Give me thy hand, or, rather, lend it me, for I but ask it in the way of friendship. Here, cousin Wilfred of Ivanhoe, in thy favour I renounce and abjure--Hey! our cousin Wilfred hath vanished!"
Ivanhoe had disappeared, and King Richard had gone also.
Ivanhoe hastened away at a secret message to fight once more with Brian de Bois-Guilbert, who had abducted a Jewish maiden named Rebecca, and spurned by Rebecca, Bois-Guilbert only escaped condemnation by the Grand Master of the Templars for his offence by admitting Rebecca to be a sorceress, and by challenging to mortal combat all who should dare to champion the high-souled and hapless Hebrew maid.
Bois-Guilbert fell in the lists as Ivanhoe approached, and, unscathed by the lance of his enemy, died a victim to the violence of his own contending pa.s.sions.
Ivanhoe and King Richard (who had followed Wilfred) hastened back to Coningsburgh, and Cedric, finding his project for the union of Rowena and Athelstane at an end by the mutual dissent of both parties, soon gave his consent to the marriage of his ward Rowena and his son Wilfred of Ivanhoe.
The nuptials thus formally approved were celebrated in the n.o.ble Minster of York. The King himself attended, and the presence of high-born Normans, as well as Saxons, joined with the universal rejoicing of the lower orders, marked the marriage as a pledge of the future peace and harmony betwixt the two races.
Kenilworth
Scott"s success in portraying the character of Mary Stuart in "The Abbot" fired him with the desire of doing likewise with her great rival Elizabeth; and although history has modified his picture of the English Queen, the portrait still remains a vivid and in many respects a faithful likeness. In his preface to the first edition of "Kenilworth," which was published in January, 1821, Scott, referring to his delineation of Elizabeth, admits that he is a "Scottishman," and therefore may be pardoned for looking at his subject with certain prejudices. Another source of inspiration that led him to write the romance was the old ballad of "c.u.mnor Hall," in which the tale of Amy Robsart is told. Scott"s genius for depicting the life and manners and customs of the Middle Ages, of visualising scenes of long-gone chivalry, is exhibited in "Kenilworth" as in none other of his works. In common also with all his historical novels, "Kenilworth" bears witness to its author"s pa.s.sion for historical truth.
_I.--At c.u.mnor_
The village of c.u.mnor, within three or four miles of Oxford, boasted in the eighteenth of Queen Elizabeth an excellent inn, conducted by Giles Gosling, whom no one excelled in his power of pleasing his guests of every description.
A traveller in the close of the evening was ushered, with much semblance of welcome, into a large, low chamber, where several persons were seated in different parties, some drinking, some playing cards, some conversing.
The host soon recognised, without satisfaction, his graceless nephew, Michael Lambourne, who had not been heard of for long years; but, saying his sister"s son should be called to no reckoning in his house, he heartily invited all who would to join them at supper in honour of his nephew"s return. Many present remembered him as a school companion, and so forth, and, encouraged by the precept and example of Michael Lambourne, they soon pa.s.sed the limits of temperance, as was evident from the bursts of laughter with which his inquiries after old acquaintances were answered. Giles Gosling made some sort of apology to a solitary guest who had sat apart for their license; they would be to-morrow a set of painstaking mechanics, and so forth, though to-night they were such would-be rufflers, and prevailed on him to join them.
Most of Michael"s old friends seemed to have come to some sad end, but one, Tony Foster, for whom he inquired had married, and become a good Protestant, and held his head high, and scorned his old companions. He now dwelt at c.u.mnor Place, an old mansion house, and had nothing to do with anybody in c.u.mnor, not entirely from pride; it was said there was a fair lady in the case.
Here Tressilian, the guest, who had sat apart, intervened in the conversation, and was informed that Foster had a beautiful lady closely mewed up at c.u.mnor Place, and would scarcely let her look upon the light of day.
Michael Lambourne at once wagered that he would force Tony Foster to introduce him to his fair guest, and Tressilian asked permission to accompany him, to mark the skill end valour with which he should conduct himself, and, in spite of the host"s warnings, the next morning they set off together to Anthony Foster"s dwelling.
Michael Lambourne soon let Tressilian know that he suspected other motives than simple curiosity had led him, a gentleman of birth and breeding, into the company of such a scant-of-grace as himself, and owned that he expected both pleasure and profit from his visit.
They found the gate open, and pa.s.sed up an avenue overshadowed by old trees, untrimmed for many years. Everything was in a dilapidated condition. After some delay, they were introduced into a stone-paved parlour, where they had to wait some time before the present master of the mansion made his appearance. He looked to Tressilian for an explanation of this visit, so true was Lambourne"s observation that the superior air of breeding and dignity shone through the disguise of an inferior dress. But it was Michael who replied to him, with the easy familiarity of an old friend, and though Foster at first made it obvious that he had no wish to renew the acquaintance, in a few minutes he requested him to follow him to another apartment, and the two worthies left the room, leaving Tressilian alone.
His dark eyes followed them with a glance of contempt, some of which was for himself for having stooped for a moment to be their familiar companion. A slight noise interrupted his reverie. He looked round, and in the beautiful and richly attired female who entered he recognised the object of his search. His first impulse urged him to conceal his face in the cloak, but the young lady (she was not above eighteen years old) ran joyfully towards him, and, pulling him by the cloak, said playfully:
"Nay, my sweet friend, after I have waited for you so long, you come not to my bower to play the masquer."
"Alas, Amy," said Tressilian, in a low and melancholy voice. Then, as she turned pale as death, he added: "Amy, fear me not."
"Why should I fear you?" said the lady; "or wherefore have you intruded yourself into my dwelling, uninvited, sir, and unwished for?"
"Your dwelling, Amy?" said Tressilian. "Alas! is a prison your dwelling?
A prison, guarded by the most sordid of men, but not a greater wretch than his employer?"
"This house is mine," said Amy, "mine while I choose to inhabit it. If it is my pleasure to live in seclusion, who shall gainsay me?"
"Your father, maiden," answered Tressilian, "your broken-hearted father, who dispatched me in quest of you with that authority which he cannot exert in person."
"Tressilian," said the lady, "I cannot--I must not--I dare not leave this place! Go back to my father. Tell him I will obtain leave to see him within twelve hours from hence. Tell him I am well--I am happy. Go, carry him the news. I come as sure as there is light in heaven--that is, when I obtain permission."