Читать «Айвенго / Ivanhoe» онлайн - страница 47

Poor Isaac was hurried off and sent away from the Preceptory. He could only return to the house of the Rabbi, and try to learn the fate of his daughter. Before that he had feared for her honour, he was now to tremble for her life. In the meanwhile, the Grand Master ordered the Preceptor of Templestowe to come to him.

* * *

“Is there in this place, dedicated to the purposes of the holy Order of the Temple,” said the Grand Master, “a Jewish woman, brought here by a brother of the Order, by your consent, Sir Preceptor?”

Albert Malvoisin read in the eyes of Beaumanoir ruin to Bois-Guilbert and to himself, unless he could change the situation.

“Why are you mute?” continued the Grand Master.

“Is it permitted to me to reply?” answered the Preceptor, in a tone of the deepest humility.

“Speak, you are permitted,” said the Grand Master—“speak, and say, how comes it that you let a brother bring a woman, and that woman a Jewish sorceress, into this holy place?”

“A Jewish sorceress!” echoed Albert Malvoisin; “good angels guard us!”

“Yes, brother, a Jewish sorceress!” said the Grand Master, sternly. “I have said it.”

“Your wisdom, reverend father,” answered the Preceptor, “has rolled away the darkness from my understanding. I was very much surprised that such a good knight as Brian de Bois-Guilbert became mad because of some woman. I received her into this house only to create a barrier between them.”

“Has nothing, then, happened between them?” demanded the Grand Master.

“What! under this roof?” said the Preceptor, crossing himself, “No! If I have sinned in receiving her here, it was to break off our brother’s devotion to this Jewish woman, which seemed to me so wild and unnatural. But if she is a sorceress, then the situation is clear.”

“It is!” said Beaumanoir. “It may be that our brother Bois-Guilbert deserves in this matter pity and not punishment. The witch will die. Prepare the Castle-hall for the trial of the sorceress.”

Albert Malvoisin bowed and retired, – not to give directions for preparing the hall, but to look for Brian de Bois-Guilbert. He found him irritated by new rejection from the side of Rebecca. “The ungrateful,” he said, “to reject him who risked his life to save hers!”

“Old Lucas Beaumanoir,” said the Preceptor, “knows about her, I couldn’t help it. But I have turned the matter to our benefit. You are safe if you leave Rebecca. You are pitied—the victim of magical delusion. She is a sorceress, and must die.”

“She will not, by Heaven!” said Bois-Guilbert.

“By Heaven, she must and will!” said Malvoisin. “Nobody can save her. Think, Bois-Guilbert, your present rank, your future—everything depends on your place in the Order. And Beaumanoir will use any pretext to expel you.”

“Malvoisin,” said Bois-Guilbert, “you are a cold-blooded—”

“Friend,” said the Preceptor, “and therefore more fit to give you advice.”