Читать «Айвенго / Ivanhoe» онлайн - страница 50

“God will give me a champion,” said Rebecca.

* * *

Even Lucas Beaumanoir himself was impressed by Rebecca’s defense.

After some time he spoke: “Maiden, I feel pity for you. Repent, my daughter, confess your sins, accept our true faith and live. What has the law of Moses done for you that you will die for it?”

“It was the law of my fathers,” said Rebecca, “it was given upon the mountain of Sinai in cloud and in fire. I am just a woman and I am not prepared to defend my religion, but I can die for it, if it is God’s will.”

“Do you refuse to confess your guilt and insist on your bold challenge?”

“I do, noble sir,” answered Rebecca.

“So be it then, in the name of Heaven,” said the Grand Master, “and may God show the right!”

“Amen,” replied the Preceptors around him.

“Brothers,” said Beaumanoir, “Who should be our champion in the field?”

“Brian de Bois-Guilbert,” said one of the Preceptors.

“So be it!” exclaimed the Grand Master, “Rebecca, we give you three days to find a champion. And if you can’t find one, or your champion is defeated, you will die the death of a witch.”

“God’s will be done!” said Rebecca, “I only need someone to carry my message to my father.”

There was another pause, then Higg, the son of Snell, replied, “I am still a sick man, but I can I will carry your message.”

“Find Isaac of York,” said Rebecca, “here is money for the road—let him have this scroll. Farewell! Life and death are in your haste.”

The peasant took the scroll, which contained only a few lines in Hebrew and left.

Higg didn’t have to go to York, however, because not far from the gate of the Preceptory he met with two riders. And when he approached them he discovered that one of them was his old employer, Isaac of York.

When Isaac read the scroll, he fell from his mule like a dying man.

“Child of my sorrow,” cried the poor Jew, “I cannot live without you! Child of my love! – child of my old age! – oh, Rebecca, daughter of Rachel!”

“Pull yourself together,” said his friend, “go and look for a champion. Find Wilfred, the son of Cedric. It may be he will help you with advice or will fight himself.”

“I will find him,” said Isaac, “because he is a good man, and has compassion for the Jews. And brother, Heaven be praised that gave me a friend in my misery!”

They hugged and went in different directions, leaving the crippled peasant alone.

* * *

When the Black Knight left the generous bandit, he went to the monastery where the wounded Ivanhoe had been removed from the castle. On the next morning the Black Knight was ready to continue his journey accompanied by the jester Wamba, who was his guide. Ivanhoe watched his departure from the monastery.

But some hours later he requested to see the Prior. The old man came in haste, and asked anxiously about the state of his health.

“It is better,” he said, “than I could have supposed. I feel already that I can put on my armour.”

“Now, the saints forbid,” said the Prior, “that the son of the Saxon Cedric should leave our convent before his wounds are healed!”