no further part in the proceedings of the conquerors of that ill-fated
place. A scene or horrible massacre and frightful reprisals ensued,
and the Christian warriors, hot with victory and flushed with
slaughter, were, it is to be feared, as savage in their hour of triumph
as ever their heathen enemies had been.
Among the most violent and least scrupulous was the ferocious Knight of
Saint Jago, Don Beltran de Cuchilla y Trabuco y Espada y Espelon.
Raging through the vanquished city like a demon, he slaughtered
indiscriminately all those infidels both sexes whose wealth did not
tempt him to a ransom, or whose beauty did not reserve them for more
frightful calamities than death. The slaughter over, Don Beltran took
up his quarters in the Albaycen, where the Alfaqui had lived who had so
narrowly escaped the sword of Ivanhoe; but the wealth, the treasure,
the slaves, and the family of the fugitive chieftain, were left in
possession of the conqueror of Xixona. Among the treasures, Don
Beltran recognized with a savage joy the coat-armors and ornaments of
many brave and unfortunate companions-in-arms who had fallen in the
fatal battle of Alarcos. The sight of those bloody relics added fury
to his cruel disposition, and served to steel a heart already but
little disposed to sentiments of mercy.
Three days after the sack and plunder of the place, Don Beltran was
seated in the hall-court lately occupied by the proud Alfaqui, lying in
his divan, dressed in his rich robes, the fountains playing in the
centre, the slaves of the Moor ministering to his scarred and rugged
Christian conqueror. Some fanned him with peacocks' pinions, some
danced before him, some sang Moor's melodies to the plaintive notes of
a guzla, one it was the only daughter of the Moor's old age, the young
Zutulbe, a rosebud of beauty sat weeping in a corner of the gilded
hall: weeping for her slain brethren, the pride of Moslem chivalry,
whose heads were blackening in the blazing sunshine on the portals
without, and for her father, whose home had been thus made desolate.
He and his guest, the English knight Sir Wilfrid, were playing at
chess, a favorite arrangement with the chivalry of the period, when a
messenger was announced from Valencia, to treat, if possible, for the
ransom of the remaining part of the Alfaqui's family. A grim smile
lighted up Don Beltran's features as he bade the black slave admit the
messenger. He entered. By his costume it was at once seen that the
bearer of the flag of truce was a Jew the people were employed
continually then as ambassadors between the two races at war in
Spain.
"I come," said the old Jew (in a voice which made Sir Wilfrid start),
"from my lord the Alfaqui to my noble senor, for the ransom the
invincible Don Beltran de Cuchilla, to treat of the Moor's only
daughter, the child of his old age and the pearl of his affection."
"A pearl is a valuable jewel, Hebrew. What does the Moorish dog bid
for her?" asked Don Beltran, still smiling grimly.
The Alfaqui offers 100,000 dinars, twenty-four horses with their
caparisons, twenty-four suits of plate-armor, and diamonds and rubies
to the amount of 1,000,000 dinars."
"Ho, slaves!" roared Don Beltran, "show the Jew my treasury of gold.
How many hundred thousand pieces are there?" And ten enormous chests
were produced in which the accountant counted 1,000 bags of 1,000
dirhems each, and displayed several caskets of jewels containing such a
treasure of rubies, smaragds, diamonds, and jacinths, as made the eyes
of the aged ambassador twinkle with avarice.
"How many horses are there in my stable?" continued Don Beltran; and
Muley, the master of the horse, numbered three hundred fully
caparisoned; and there was, likewise, armor of the richest sort for as
many cavaliers, who followed the banner of this doughty captain.
"I want neither money nor armor," said the ferocious knight; "tell this
to the Alfaqui, Jew. And I will keep the child, his daughter, to serve
the messes for my dogs, and clean the platters for my scullions."
"Deprive not the old man of his child," here interposed the Knight of
Ivanhoe: "bethink thee, brave Don Beltran, she is but an infant in
years."
"She is my captive, Sir Knight," replied the surly Don Beltran; "I will
do with my own as becomes me."
"Take 200,000 dirhems," cried the Jew; "more! anything!
The Alfaqui will give his life for his child!"
"Come hither, Zutulbe! come hither, thou Moorish pearl!"
yelled the ferocious warrior; "come closer, my pretty black-eyed hour
of heathen esse Hast heard the name of Beltran de Espada y Trabuco?
"There were three brothers of that name at Alarcos, and my brothers
slew the Christian dogs!" said the proud young girl, looking boldly at
Don Beltran, who foamed with rage.
"The Moors butchered my mother and her little ones, at midnight, in our
castle of Murcia," Beltran said.
"Thy father fled like a craven, as thou didst, Don Beltran!"
cried the high-spirited girl.
"By Saint Jago, this is too much!" screamed the infuriated nobleman;
and the next moment there was a shriek, and the maiden fell to the
ground with Don Beltran's dagger in her side.
"Death is better than dishonor!" cried the child, rolling on the
blood-stained marble pavement. "II spit upon thee, dog of a
Christian!" and with this, and with a savage laugh, she fell back and
died.
"Bear back this news, Jew, to the Alfaqui," howled the Don, spurning
the beauteous corpse with his foot. "I would not have ransomed her for
all the gold in Barbary!" And shuddering, the old Jew left the
apartment, which Ivanhoe quitted likewise.
When they were in the outer court, the knight said to the Jew, "Isaac
of York, dost thou not know me?" and threw back his hood, and looked
at the old man.
The old Jew stared wildly, rushed forward as if to seize his hand, then
started back, trembling convulsively, and clutching his withered hands
over his face, said, with a burst of grief, "Sir Wilfrid of Ivanhoe!
-no, no! - I do not know thee!"
"Holy mother! what has chanced?" said Ivanhoe, in his turn becoming
ghastly pale; "where is thy daughter where is Rebecca?"
"Away from me!" said the old Jew, tottering. "Away! Rebecca is
dead!"
When the Disinherited Knight heard that fatal announcement, he fell to
the ground senseless, and was for some days as one perfectly distraught
with grief. He took no nourishment and uttered no word. For weeks he
did not relapse out of his moody silence, and when he came partially to
himself again, it was to bid his people to horse, in a hollow voice,
and to make a foray against the Moors. Day after day he issued out
against these infidels, and did nought but slay and slay. He took no
plunder as other knights did, but left that to his followers; he
uttered no war-cry, as was the manner of chivalry, and he gave no
quarter, insomuch that the "silent knight" became the dread of all the
&nbs
p; Paynims of Granada and Andalusia, and more fell by his lance than by
that of any the most clamorous captains of the troops in arms against
them. Thus the tide of battle turned, and the Arab historian, El
Makary, recounts how, at the great battle of Al Akab, called by the
Spaniards Las Navas, the Christians retrieved their defeat at Alarcos,
and absolutely killed half a million of Mahometans. Fifty thousand of
these, of course, Don Wilfrid took to his own lance; and it was
remarked that the melancholy warrior seemed somewhat more easy in
spirits after that famous feat of arms.
CHAPTER VII.
THE END OF THE PERFORMANCE.
IN a short time the terrible Sir Wilfrid of Ivanhoe had killed off so
many of the Moors, that though those unbelieving miscreants poured
continual reinforcements into Spain from Barbary, they could make no
head against the Christian forces, and in fact came into battle quite
discouraged at the notion of meeting the dreadful silent knight. It
was commonly believed amongst them, that the famous Malek Ric, Richard
of England, the conqueror of Saladin, had come to life again, and was
battling in the Spanish hosts that this, his second life, was, a
charmed one, and his body inaccessible to blow of scimitar or thrust of
spear that after battle he ate the hearts and drank the blood of many
young Moors for his supper: a thousand wild legends were told of
Ivanhoe, indeed, so that the Morisco warriors came half vanquished into
the field, and fell an easy prey to the Spaniards, who cut away among
them without mercy. And although none of the Spanish historians whom I
have consulted make mention of Sir Wilfrid as the real author of the
numerous triumphs which now graced the arms of the good cause, this is
not in the least to be wondered at, in a nation that has always been
notorious for bragging, and for the non-payment of their debts of
gratitude as of their other obligations, and that writes histories of
the Peninsular war with the Emperor Napoleon, without making the
slightest mention of his Grace the Duke of Wellington, or of the part
taken by BRITISH VALOR in that transaction. Well, it must be
confessed, on the other hand, that we brag enough of our fathers' feats
in those campaigns: but this is not the subject at present under
consideration.
To be brief, Ivanhoe made such short work with the unbelievers, that
the monarch of Aragon, King Don Jayme, saw himself speedily enabled to
besiege the city of Valencia, the last stronghold which the Moors had
in his dominions, and garrisoned by many thousands of those infidels
under the command of their King Aboo Abdallah Mahommed, son of
Yakoob-al-Mansoor. The Arabian historian El Makary gives a full
account of the military precautions taken by Aboo Abdallah to defend
his city; but as I do not wish to make a parade of my learning, or to
write a costume novel, I shall pretermit any description of the city
under its Moorish governors.
Besides the Turks who inhabited it, there dwelt within its walls great
store of those of the Hebrew nation, who were always protected by the
Moors during their unbelieving reign in Spain; and who were, as we very
well know, the chief physicians, the chief bankers, the chief
statesmen, the chief artists and musicians, the chief everything, under
the Moorish kings. Thus it is not surprising that the Hebrews, having
their money, their liberty, their teeth, their lives, secure under the
Mahometan domination, should infinitely prefer it to the Christian
sway; beneath which they were liable to be deprived of every one of
these benefits.
Among these Hebrews of Valencia, lived a very ancient Israelite no
other than Isaac of York before mentioned, who came into Spain with his
daughter, soon after Ivanhoe's marriage, in the third volume of the
first part of this history. Isaac was respected by his people for the
money which he possessed, and his daughter for her admirable good
qualities, her beauty, her charities, and her remarkable medical
skill.
The young Emir Aboo Abdallah was so struck by her charms, that though
she was considerably older than his Highness, he offered to marry her,
and install her as Number 1 of his wives; and Isaac of York would not
have objected to the union, (for such mixed marriages were not uncommon
between the Hebrews and Moors in those days,) but Rebecca firmly yet
respectfully declined the proposals of the prince, saying that it was
impossible she should unite herself with a man of a creed different to
her own.
Although Isaac was, probably, not over-well pleased at losing this
chance of being father-in-law to a royal highness, yet as he passed
among his people for a very strict character, and there were in his
family several rabbis of great reputation and severity of conduct, the
old gentleman was silenced by this objection of Rebecca's, and the
young lady herself applauded by her relatives for her resolute
behavior. She took their congratulations in a very frigid manner, and
said that it was her wish not to marry at all, but to devote herself to
the practice of medicine altogether, and to helping the sick and needy
of her people. Indeed, although she did not go to any public meetings,
she was as benevolent a creature as the world ever saw: the poor
blessed her wherever they knew her, and many benefited by her who
guessed not whence her gentle bounty came.
But there are men in Jewry who admire beauty, and, as I have even
heard, appreciate money too, and Rebecca had such a quantity of both,
that all the most desirable bachelors of the people were ready to bid
for her. Ambassadors came from all quarters to propose for her. Her
own uncle, the venerable Ben Solomons, with a beard as long as a
cashmere goat's, and a reputation for learning and piety which still
lives in his nation, quarrelled with his son Moses, the red-haired
diamond-merchant of Trebizond, and his son Simeon, the bald bill-broker
of Bagdad, each putting in a claim for their cousin. Bell Minories
came from London and knelt at her feet; Bell Jochanan arrived from
Paris, and thought to dazzle her with the latest waistcoats from the
Palais Royal; and Ben Jonah brought her a present of Dutch herrings,
and besought her to come back and be Mrs. Ben Jonah at the Hague.
Rebecca temporized as best she might. She thought her uncle was too
old. She besought dear Moses and dear Simeon not to quarrel with each
other, and offend their father by pressing their suit. Bell Minories
from London, she said, was too young, and Jochanan from Paris, she
pointed out to Isaac of York, must be a spendthrift, or he would not
wear those absurd waistcoats. As for Ben Jonah, she said, she could
not bear the notion of tobacco and Dutch herrings: she wished to stay
with her papa, her dear papa. In fine, she invented a thousand excuses
for delay, and it was plain that marriage was odious to her. The only
man whom she received with anything like favor, was young Bevis Marks
of London, with who
m she was very familiar. But Bevis had come to her
with a certain token trial had been given to him by an English knight,
who saved him from a fagot to which the ferocious Hospitaller Folko of
Heydenbraten was about to condemn him. It was but a ring, with an
emerald in it, that Bevis knew to be sham, and not worth a groat.
Rebecca knew about the value of jewels too; but ah! she valued this
one more than all the diamonds in Prester John's turban. She kissed
it, she cried over it; she wore it in her bosom always; and when she
knelt down at night and morning, she held it between her folded hands
on her neck.... Young Bevis Marks went away no better off than the
others the rascal sold to the King of France a handsome ruby, the very
size of the bit of glass in Rebecca's ring; but he always said he would
rather have had her than ten thousand pounds: and very likely he would,
for it was known she would at once have a plum to her fortune.
These delays, however, could not continue for ever; and at a great
family meeting held at Passover-time, Rebecca was solemnly ordered to
choose a husband out of the gentlemen there present; her aunts pointing
out the great kindness which had been shown to her by her father, in
permitting her to choose for herself. One aunt was of the Solomon
faction, another aunt took Simeon's side, a third most venerable old
lady the head of the family, and a hundred and forty-four years of age
was ready to pronounce a curse upon her, and cast her out, unless she
married before the month was over. All the jewelled heads of all the
old ladies in council, all the beards of all the family, wagged against
her: it must have been all awful sight to witness.
At last, then, Rebecca was forced to speak. "Kinsmen!" she said,
turning pale, "when the Prince Abou Abdil asked me in marriage, I told
you I would not wed but with one of my own faith."
"She has turned Turk," screamed out the ladies. "She wants to be a
princess, and has turned Turk," roared the rabbis.
"Well, well," said Isaac, in rather an appeased tone, "let us hear what
the poor girl has got to say. Do you want to marry his royal highness,
Rebecca? Say the word, yes or no."
Another groan burst from the rabbis they cried, shrieked, chattered,
gesticulated, furious to lose such a prize; as were the women, that she
should reign over them a second Esther.
"Silence," cried out Isaac, "let the girl speak. Speak boldly, Rebecca
dear, there's a good girl."
Rebecca was as pale as a stone. She folded her arms on her breast, and
felt the ring there. She looked round all the assembly, and then at
Isaac. "Father," she said, in a thrilling low steady voice, "I am not
of your religion I am not of the Prince Boabdil's religion I - I am of
_his religion."
"His! whose, in the name of Moses, girl?" cried Isaac.
Rebecca clasped her hands on her beating chest and looked round with
dauntless eyes. "Of his," she said, "who saved my life and your honor:
of my dear, dear champion's. I never can be his, but I will be no
other's. Give my money to my kinsmen; it is that they long for. Take
the dross, Simeon and Solomon, Jonah and Jochanan, and divide it among
you, and leave me. I will never be yours, I tell you, never. Do you
think, after knowing him and hearing him speak, after watching him
wounded on his pillow, and glorious in battle (her eyes melted and
kindled again as she spoke these words), I can mate with such as you?
Go. Leave me to myself. I am none of yours. I love him I love him.
Fate divides us long, long miles separate us; and I know we may never
meet again. But I love and bless him always. Yes, always. My prayers
are his; my faith is his. Yes, my faith is your faith, Wilfred
Wilfred! I have no kindred more, - I am a Christian!"
At this last word there was such a row in the assembly, as my feeble