To buy his favour I extend this friendship:
If he will take it, so; if not, adieu;
And, for my love, I pray you wrong me not.
Merchant of Venice
As the Palmer, lighted by a domestic with a torch, passed through
the intricate combination of apartments of this large and
irregular mansion, the cupbearer coming behind him whispered in
his ear, that if he had no objection to a cup of good mead in his
apartment, there were many domestics in that family who would
gladly hear the news he had brought from the Holy Land, and
particularly that which concerned the Knight of Ivanhoe. Wamba
presently appeared to urge the same request, observing that a cup
after midnight was worth three after curfew. Without disputing a
maxim urged by such grave authority, the Palmer thanked them for
their courtesy, but observed that he had included in his
religious vow, an obligation never to speak in the kitchen on
matters which were prohibited in the hall. "That vow," said
Wamba to the cupbearer, "would scarce suit a serving-man."
The cupbearer shrugged up his shoulders in displeasure. "I
thought to have lodged him in the solere chamber," said he; "but
since he is so unsocial to Christians, e'en let him take the next
stall to Isaac the Jew's.---Anwold," said he to the torchbearer,
"carry the Pilgrim to the southern cell.---I give you
good-night," he added, "Sir Palmer, with small thanks for short
courtesy."
"Good-night, and Our Lady's benison," said the Palmer, with
composure; and his guide moved forward.
In a small antechamber, into which several doors opened, and
which was lighted by a small iron lamp, they met a second
interruption from the waiting-maid of Rowena, who, saying in a
tone of authority, that her mistress desired to speak with the
Palmer, took the torch from the hand of Anwold, and, bidding him
await her return, made a sign to the Palmer to follow.
Apparently he did not think it proper to decline this invitation
as he had done the former; for, though his gesture indicated some
surprise at the summons, he obeyed it without answer or
remonstrance.
A short passage, and an ascent of seven steps, each of which was
composed of a solid beam of oak, led him to the apartment of the
Lady Rowena, the rude magnificence of which corresponded to the
respect which was paid to her by the lord of the mansion. The
walls were covered with embroidered hangings, on which
different-coloured silks, interwoven with gold and silver
threads, had been employed with all the art of which the age was
capable, to represent the sports of hunting and hawking. The bed
was adorned with the same rich tapestry, and surrounded with
curtains dyed with purple. The seats had also their stained
coverings, and one, which was higher than the rest, was
accommodated with a footstool of ivory, curiously carved.
No fewer than four silver candelabras, holding great waxen
torches, served to illuminate this apartment. Yet let not
modern beauty envy the magnificence of a Saxon princess. The
walls of the apartment were so ill finished and so full of
crevices, that the rich hangings shook in the night blast, and,
in despite of a sort of screen intended to protect them from the
wind, the flame of the torches streamed sideways into the air,
like the unfurled pennon of a chieftain. Magnificence there was,
with some rude attempt at taste; but of comfort there was little,
and, being unknown, it was unmissed.
The Lady Rowena, with three of her attendants standing at her
back, and arranging her hair ere she lay down to rest, was seated
in the sort of throne already mentioned, and looked as if born to
exact general homage. The Pilgrim acknowledged her claim to it
by a low genuflection.
"Rise, Palmer," said she graciously. "The defender of the absent
has a right to favourable reception from all who value truth, and
honour manhood." She then said to her train, "Retire, excepting
only Elgitha; I would speak with this holy Pilgrim."
The maidens, without leaving the apartment, retired to its
further extremity, and sat down on a small bench against the
wall, where they remained mute as statues, though at such a
distance that their whispers could not have interrupted the
conversation of their mistress.
"Pilgrim," said the lady, after a moment's pause, during which
she seemed uncertain how to address him, "you this night
mentioned a name---I mean," she said, with a degree of effort,
"the name of Ivanhoe, in the halls where by nature and kindred
it should have sounded most acceptably; and yet, such is the
perverse course of fate, that of many whose hearts must have
throbbed at the sound, I, only, dare ask you where, and in what
condition, you left him of whom you spoke?---We heard, that,
having remained in Palestine, on account of his impaired health,
after the departure of the English army, he had experienced the
persecution of the French faction, to whom the Templars are known
to be attached."
"I know little of the Knight of Ivanhoe," answered the Palmer,
with a troubled voice. "I would I knew him better, since you,
lady, are interested in his fate. He hath, I believe,
surmounted the persecution of his enemies in Palestine, and is
on the eve of returning to England, where you, lady, must know
better than I, what is his chance of happiness."
The Lady Rowena sighed deeply, and asked more particularly when
the Knight of Ivanhoe might be expected in his native country,
and whether he would not be exposed to great dangers by the road.
On the first point, the Palmer professed ignorance; on the
second, he said that the voyage might be safely made by the way
of Venice and Genoa, and from thence through France to England.
"Ivanhoe," he said, "was so well acquainted with the language and
manners of the French, that there was no fear of his incurring
any hazard during that part of his travels."
"Would to God," said the Lady Rowena, "he were here safely
arrived, and able to bear arms in the approaching tourney, in
which the chivalry of this land are expected to display their
address and valour. Should Athelstane of Coningsburgh obtain
the prize, Ivanhoe is like to hear evil tidings when he reaches
England.---How looked he, stranger, when you last saw him? Had
disease laid her hand heavy upon his strength and comeliness?"
"He was darker," said the Palmer, "and thinner, than when he came
from Cyprus in the train of Coeur-de-Lion, and care seemed to sit
heavy on his brow; but I approached not his presence, because he
is unknown to me."
"He will," said the lady, "I fear, find little in his native land
to clear those clouds from his countenance. Thanks, good
Pilgrim, for your information concerning the companion of my
childhood.---Maidens," she said, "draw near---offer the sleeping
cup to this holy man, whom I will no longer detain from repose."
One of the maidens presented a silver cup, containing a rich
mixture of wine and spice, which Rowena barely put to her lips.
It was then offered to the Palmer, who, after a low obeisance,
tasted a few drops.
"Accept this alms, friend," continued the lady, offering a piece
of gold, "in acknowledgment of thy painful travail, and of the
shrines thou hast visited."
The Palmer received the boon with another low reverence, and
followed Edwina out of the apartment.
In the anteroom he found his attendant Anwold, who, taking the
torch from the hand of the waiting-maid, conducted him with more
haste than ceremony to an exterior and ignoble part of the
building, where a number of small apartments, or rather cells,
served for sleeping places to the lower order of domestics, and
to strangers of mean degree.
"In which of these sleeps the Jew?" said the Pilgrim.
"The unbelieving dog," answered Anwold, "kennels in the cell next
your holiness.---St Dunstan, how it must be scraped and cleansed
ere it be again fit for a Christian!"
"And where sleeps Gurth the swineherd?" said the stranger.
"Gurth," replied the bondsman, "sleeps in the cell on your right,
as the Jew on that to your left; you serve to keep the child of
circumcision separate from the abomination of his tribe. You
might have occupied a more honourable place had you accepted of
Oswald's invitation."
"It is as well as it is," said the Palmer; "the company, even of
a Jew, can hardly spread contamination through an oaken
partition."
So saying, he entered the cabin allotted to him, and taking the
torch from the domestic's hand, thanked him, and wished him
good-night. Having shut the door of his cell, he placed the
torch in a candlestick made of wood, and looked around his
sleeping apartment, the furniture of which was of the most simple
kind. It consisted of a rude wooden stool, and still ruder hutch
or bed-frame, stuffed with clean straw, and accommodated with two
or three sheepskins by way of bed-clothes.
The Palmer, having extinguished his torch, threw himself, without
taking off any part of his clothes, on this rude couch, and
slept, or at least retained his recumbent posture, till the
earliest sunbeams found their way through the little grated
window, which served at once to admit both air and light to his
uncomfortable cell. He then started up, and after repeating his
matins, and adjusting his dress, he left it, and entered that of
Isaac the Jew, lifting the latch as gently as he could.
The inmate was lying in troubled slumber upon a couch similar to
that on which the Palmer himself had passed the night. Such
parts of his dress as the Jew had laid aside on the preceding
evening, were disposed carefully around his person, as if to
prevent the hazard of their being carried off during his
slumbers. There was a trouble on his brow amounting almost to
agony. His hands and arms moved convulsively, as if struggling
with the nightmare; and besides several ejaculations in Hebrew,
the following were distinctly heard in the Norman-English, or
mixed language of the country: "For the sake of the God of
Abraham, spare an unhappy old man! I am poor, I am penniless
---should your irons wrench my limbs asunder, I could not gratify
you!"
The Palmer awaited not the end of the Jew's vision, but stirred
him with his pilgrim's staff. The touch probably associated, as
is usual, with some of the apprehensions excited by his dream;
for the old man started up, his grey hair standing almost erect
upon his head, and huddling some part of his garments about him,
while he held the detached pieces with the tenacious grasp of a
falcon, he fixed upon the Palmer his keen black eyes, expressive
of wild surprise and of bodily apprehension.
"Fear nothing from me, Isaac," said the Palmer, "I come as your
friend."
"The God of Israel requite you," said the Jew, greatly relieved;
"I dreamed---But Father Abraham be praised, it was but a dream."
Then, collecting himself, he added in his usual tone, "And what
may it be your pleasure to want at so early an hour with the poor
Jew?"
"It is to tell you," said the Palmer, "that if you leave not this
mansion instantly, and travel not with some haste, your journey
may prove a dangerous one."
"Holy father!" said the Jew, "whom could it interest to endanger
so poor a wretch as I am?"
"The purpose you can best guess," said the Pilgrim; "but rely on
this, that when the Templar crossed the hall yesternight, he
spoke to his Mussulman slaves in the Saracen language, which I
well understand, and charged them this morning to watch the
journey of the Jew, to seize upon him when at a convenient
distance from the mansion, and to conduct him to the castle of
Philip de Malvoisin, or to that of Reginald Front-de-Boeuf."
It is impossible to describe the extremity of terror which seized
upon the Jew at this information, and seemed at once to overpower
his whole faculties. His arms fell down to his sides, and his
head drooped on his breast, his knees bent under his weight,
every nerve and muscle of his frame seemed to collapse and lose
its energy, and he sunk at the foot of the Palmer, not in the
fashion of one who intentionally stoops, kneels, or prostrates
himself to excite compassion, but like a man borne down on all
sides by the pressure of some invisible force, which crushes him
to the earth without the power of resistance.
"Holy God of Abraham!" was his first exclamation, folding and
elevating his wrinkled hands, but without raising his grey head
from the pavement; "Oh, holy Moses! O, blessed Aaron! the dream
is not dreamed for nought, and the vision cometh not in vain! I
feel their irons already tear my sinews! I feel the rack pass
over my body like the saws, and harrows, and axes of iron over
the men of Rabbah, and of the cities of the children of Ammon!"
"Stand up, Isaac, and hearken to me," said the Palmer, who viewed
the extremity of his distress with a compassion in which contempt
was largely mingled; "you have cause for your terror, considering
how your brethren have been used, in order to extort from them
their hoards, both by princes and nobles; but stand up, I say,
and I will point out to you the means of escape. Leave this
mansion instantly, while its inmates sleep sound after the last
night's revel. I will guide you by the secret paths of the
forest, known as well to me as to any forester that ranges it,
and I will not leave you till you are under safe conduct of some
chief or baron going to the tournament, whose good-will you have
probably the means of securing."
As the ears of Isaac received the hopes of escape which this
speech intimated, he began gradually, and inch by inch, as it
were, to raise himself up from the ground, until he fairly rested
upon his knees, throwing back his long grey hair and beard, and
fixing his keen black eyes upon the Palmer's face, with a look
expressive at once of hope and fear, not unmingled with
suspicion. But when he heard the concluding part of the
sentence, his original terror appeared to revive in full force,
and he dropt once more on his face, exclaiming, "'I' possess the
means of securing good-will! alas! there is but one road to the
favour of a Christian, and how can the poor Jew find it, whom
extortions have already reduced to the misery of Lazarus?" Then,
as if suspicion had overpowered his other feelings, he suddenly
exclaimed, "For the love of God, young man, betray me not---for
the sake of the Great Father who made us all, Jew as well as
Gentile, Israelite and Ishmaelite---do me no treason! I have not
means to secure the good-will of a Christian beggar, were he
rating it at a single penny." As he spoke these last words, he
raised himself, and grasped the Palmer's mantle with a look of
the most earnest entreaty. The pilgrim extricated himself, as
if there were contamination in the touch.
"Wert thou loaded with all the wealth of thy tribe," he said,
"what interest have I to injure thee?---In this dress I am vowed
to poverty, nor do I change it for aught save a horse and a coat
of mail. Yet think not that I care for thy company, or propose
myself advantage by it; remain here if thou wilt---Cedric the
Saxon may protect thee."
"Alas!" said the Jew, "he will not let me travel in his train
---Saxon or Norman will be equally ashamed of the poor Israelite;
and to travel by myself through the domains of Philip de
Malvoisin and Reginald Front-de-Boeuf---Good youth, I will go
with you!---Let us haste---let us gird up our loins---let us
flee!---Here is thy staff, why wilt thou tarry?"
"I tarry not," said the Pilgrim, giving way to the urgency of his
companion; "but I must secure the means of leaving this place
--follow me."
He led the way to the adjoining cell, which, as the reader is
apprised, was occupied by Gurth the swineherd.---"Arise, Gurth,"
said the Pilgrim, "arise quickly. Undo the postern gate, and let
out the Jew and me."
Gurth, whose occupation, though now held so mean, gave him as
much consequence in Saxon England as that of Eumaeus in Ithaca,
was offended at the familiar and commanding tone assumed by the
Palmer. "The Jew leaving Rotherwood," said he, raising himself
on his elbow, and looking superciliously at him without quitting
his pallet, "and travelling in company with the Palmer to
boot---"
"I should as soon have dreamt," said Wamba, who entered the
apartment at the instant, "of his stealing away with a gammon of
bacon."
"Nevertheless," said Gurth, again laying down his head on the
wooden log which served him for a pillow, "both Jew and Gentile
must be content to abide the opening of the great gate---we
suffer no visitors to depart by stealth at these unseasonable
hours."
"Nevertheless," said the Pilgrim, in a commanding tone, "you will
not, I think, refuse me that favour."
So saying, he stooped over the bed of the recumbent swineherd,
and whispered something in his ear in Saxon. Gurth started up
as if electrified. The Pilgrim, raising his finger in an
attitude as if to express caution, added, "Gurth, beware---thou
are wont to be prudent. I say, undo the postern---thou shalt
know more anon."
With hasty alacrity Gurth obeyed him, while Wamba and the Jew followed,
both wondering at the sudden change in the swineherd's demeanour.
"My mule, my mule!" said the Jew, as soon as they stood without
the postern.
"Fetch him his mule," said the Pilgrim; "and, hearest thou,
---let me have another, that I may bear him company till he is
beyond these parts---I will return it safely to some of Cedric's
train at Ashby. And do thou"---he whispered the rest in Gurth's
ear.
"Willingly, most willingly shall it be done," said Gurth, and
instantly departed to execute the commission.
"I wish I knew," said Wamba, when his comrade's back was turned,
"what you Palmers learn in the Holy Land."
"To say our orisons, fool," answered the Pilgrim, "to repent our
sins, and to mortify ourselves with fastings, vigils, and long
prayers."
"Something more potent than that," answered the Jester; "for when
would repentance or prayer make Gurth do a courtesy, or fasting
or vigil persuade him to lend you a mule?---I trow you might as
well have told his favourite black boar of thy vigils and
penance, and wouldst have gotten as civil an answer."
"Go to," said the Pilgrim, "thou art but a Saxon fool."
"Thou sayst well," said the Jester; "had I been born a Norman, as
I think thou art, I would have had luck on my side, and been next
door to a wise man."
At this moment Gurth appeared on the opposite side of the moat
with the mules. The travellers crossed the ditch upon a
drawbridge of only two planks breadth, the narrowness of which
was matched with the straitness of the postern, and with a little
wicket in the exterior palisade, which gave access to the forest.
No sooner had they reached the mules, than the Jew, with hasty
and trembling hands, secured behind the saddle a small bag of
blue buckram, which he took from under his cloak, containing, as
he muttered, "a change of raiment---only a change of raiment."
Then getting upon the animal with more alacrity and haste than
could have been anticipated from his years, he lost no time in so
disposing of the skirts of his gabardine as to conceal completely
from observation the burden which he had thus deposited "en
croupe".
The Pilgrim mounted with more deliberation, reaching, as he
departed, his hand to Gurth, who kissed it with the utmost
possible veneration. The swineherd stood gazing after the
travellers until they were lost under the boughs of the forest
path, when he was disturbed from his reverie by the voice of
Wamba.
"Knowest thou," said the Jester, "my good friend Gurth, that thou
art strangely courteous and most unwontedly pious on this summer
morning? I would I were a black Prior or a barefoot Palmer, to
avail myself of thy unwonted zeal and courtesy ---certes, I would
make more out of it than a kiss of the hand."
"Thou art no fool thus far, Wamba," answered Gurth, "though thou
arguest from appearances, and the wisest of us can do no more
---But it is time to look after my charge."
So saying, he turned back to the mansion, attended by the Jester.
Meanwhile the travellers continued to press on their journey with
a dispatch which argued the extremity of the Jew's fears, since
persons at his age are seldom fond of rapid motion. The Palmer,
to whom every path and outlet in the wood appeared to be
familiar, led the way through the most devious paths, and more
than once excited anew the suspicion of the Israelite, that he
intended to betray him into some ambuscade of his enemies.
His doubts might have been indeed pardoned; for, except perhaps
the flying fish, there was no race existing on the earth, in the
air, or the waters, who were the object of such an
unintermitting, general, and relentless persecution as the Jews
of this period. Upon the slightest and most unreasonable
pretences, as well as upon accusations the most absurd and
groundless, their persons and property were exposed to every turn
of popular fury; for Norman, Saxon, Dane, and Briton, however
adverse these races were to each other, contended which should
look with greatest detestation upon a people, whom it was
accounted a point of religion to hate, to revile, to despise, to
plunder, and to persecute. The kings of the Norman race, and the
independent nobles, who followed their example in all acts of
tyranny, maintained against this devoted people a persecution of
a more regular, calculated, and self-interested kind. It is a
well-known story of King John, that he confined a wealthy Jew in
one of the royal castles, and daily caused one of his teeth to be
torn out, until, when the jaw of the unhappy Israelite was half
disfurnished, he consented to pay a large sum, which it was the
tyrant's object to extort from him. The little ready money which
was in the country was chiefly in possession of this persecuted
people, and the nobility hesitated not to follow the example of
their sovereign, in wringing it from them by every species of
oppression, and even personal torture. Yet the passive courage
inspired by the love of gain, induced the Jews to dare the
various evils to which they were subjected, in consideration of
the immense profits which they were enabled to realize in a
country naturally so wealthy as England. In spite of every kind
of discouragement, and even of the special court of taxations
already mentioned, called the Jews' Exchequer, erected for the
very purpose of despoiling and distressing them, the Jews
increased, multiplied, and accumulated huge sums, which they
transferred from one hand to another by means of bills of
exchange---an invention for which commerce is said to be indebted
to them, and which enabled them to transfer their wealth from
land to land, that when threatened with oppression in one
country, their treasure might be secured in another.
The obstinacy and avarice of the Jews being thus in a measure
placed in opposition to the fanaticism that tyranny of those
under whom they lived, seemed to increase in proportion to the
persecution with which they were visited; and the immense wealth
they usually acquired in commerce, while it frequently placed
them in danger, was at other times used to extend their
influence, and to secure to them a certain degree of protection.
On these terms they lived; and their character, influenced
accordingly, was watchful, suspicious, and timid---yet obstinate,
uncomplying, and skilful in evading the dangers to which they
were exposed.
When the travellers had pushed on at a rapid rate through many
devious paths, the Palmer at length broke silence.
"That large decayed oak," he said, "marks the boundaries over
which Front-de-Boeuf claims authority---we are long since far
from those of Malvoisin. There is now no fear of pursuit."
"May the wheels of their chariots be taken off," said the Jew,
"like those of the host of Pharaoh, that they may drive heavily!
---But leave me not, good Pilgrim---Think but of that fierce and
savage Templar, with his Saracen slaves---they will regard
neither territory, nor manor, nor lordship."
"Our road," said the Palmer, "should here separate; for it
beseems not men of my character and thine to travel together
longer than needs must be. Besides, what succour couldst thou
have from me, a peaceful Pilgrim, against two armed heathens?"
"O good youth," answered the Jew, "thou canst defend me, and I
know thou wouldst. Poor as I am, I will requite it---not with
money, for money, so help me my Father Abraham, I have none---but
------"
"Money and recompense," said the Palmer, interrupting him, "I
have already said I require not of thee. Guide thee I can; and,
it may be, even in some sort defend thee; since to protect a Jew
against a Saracen, can scarce be accounted unworthy of a
Christian. Therefore, Jew, I will see thee safe under some
fitting escort. We are now not far from the town of Sheffield,
where thou mayest easily find many of thy tribe with whom to take
refuge."
"The blessing of Jacob be upon thee, good youth!" said the Jew;
"in Sheffield I can harbour with my kinsman Zareth, and find some
means of travelling forth with safety."
"Be it so," said the Palmer; "at Sheffield then we part, and
half-an-hour's riding will bring us in sight of that town."
The half hour was spent in perfect silence on both parts; the
Pilgrim perhaps disdaining to address the Jew, except in case of
absolute necessity, and the Jew not presuming to force a
conversation with a person whose journey to the Holy Sepulchre
gave a sort of sanctity to his character. They paused on the top
of a gently rising bank, and the Pilgrim, pointing to the town of
Sheffield, which lay beneath them, repeated the words, "Here,
then, we part."
"Not till you have had the poor Jew's thanks," said Isaac; "for
I presume not to ask you to go with me to my kinsman Zareth's,
who might aid me with some means of repaying your good offices."
"I have already said," answered the Pilgrim, "that I desire no
recompense. If among the huge list of thy debtors, thou wilt, for
my sake, spare the gyves and the dungeon to some unhappy
Christian who stands in thy danger, I shall hold this morning's
service to thee well bestowed."
"Stay, stay," said the Jew, laying hold of his garment;
"something would I do more than this, something for thyself.
---God knows the Jew is poor---yes, Isaac is the beggar of his
tribe---but forgive me should I guess what thou most lackest at
this moment."
"If thou wert to guess truly," said the Palmer, "it is what thou
canst not supply, wert thou as wealthy as thou sayst thou art
poor."
"As I say?" echoed the Jew; "O! believe it, I say but the truth;
I am a plundered, indebted, distressed man. Hard hands have
wrung from me my goods, my money, my ships, and all that I
possessed---Yet I can tell thee what thou lackest, and, it may
be, supply it too. Thy wish even now is for a horse and armour."
The Palmer started, and turned suddenly towards the Jew:---"What
fiend prompted that guess?" said he, hastily.
"No matter," said the Jew, smiling, "so that it be a true one
---and, as I can guess thy want, so I can supply it."
"But consider," said the Palmer, "my character, my dress, my
vow."
"I know you Christians," replied the Jew, "and that the noblest
of you will take the staff and sandal in superstitious penance,
and walk afoot to visit the graves of dead men."
"Blaspheme not, Jew," said the Pilgrim, sternly.
"Forgive me," said the Jew; "I spoke rashly. But there dropt
words from you last night and this morning, that, like sparks
from flint, showed the metal within; and in the bosom of that
Palmer's gown, is hidden a knight's chain and spurs of gold.
They glanced as you stooped over my bed in the morning."
The Pilgrim could not forbear smiling. "Were thy garments
searched by as curious an eye, Isaac," said he, "what discoveries
might not be made?"
"No more of that," said the Jew, changing colour; and drawing
forth his writing materials in haste, as if to stop the
conversation, he began to write upon a piece of paper which he
supported on the top of his yellow cap, without dismounting from
his mule. When he had finished, he delivered the scroll, which
was in the Hebrew character, to the Pilgrim, saying, "In the town
of Leicester all men know the rich Jew, Kirjath Jairam of
Lombardy; give him this scroll---he hath on sale six Milan
harnesses, the worst would suit a crowned head---ten goodly
steeds, the worst might mount a king, were he to do battle for
his throne. Of these he will give thee thy choice, with every
thing else that can furnish thee forth for the tournament: when
it is over, thou wilt return them safely---unless thou shouldst
have wherewith to pay their value to the owner."
"But, Isaac," said the Pilgrim, smiling, "dost thou know that in
these sports, the arms and steed of the knight who is unhorsed
are forfeit to his victor? Now I may be unfortunate, and so lose
what I cannot replace or repay."
The Jew looked somewhat astounded at this possibility; but
collecting his courage, he replied hastily. "No---no---no---It
is impossible---I will not think so. The blessing of Our Father
will be upon thee. Thy lance will be powerful as the rod of
Moses."
So saying, he was turning his mule's head away, when the Palmer,
in his turn, took hold of his gaberdine. "Nay, but Isaac, thou
knowest not all the risk. The steed may be slain, the armour
injured---for I will spare neither horse nor man. Besides, those
of thy tribe give nothing for nothing; something there must be
paid for their use."
The Jew twisted himself in the saddle, like a man in a fit of the
colic; but his better feelings predominated over those which were
most familiar to him. "I care not," he said, "I care not---let
me go. If there is damage, it will cost you nothing---if there
is usage money, Kirjath Jairam will forgive it for the sake of
his kinsman Isaac. Fare thee well!---Yet hark thee, good youth,"
said he, turning about, "thrust thyself not too forward into this
vain hurly-burly---I speak not for endangering the steed, and
coat of armour, but for the sake of thine own life and limbs."
"Gramercy for thy caution," said the Palmer, again smiling; "I
will use thy courtesy frankly, and it will go hard with me but
I will requite it."
They parted, and took different roads for the town of Sheffield.
