Читать «Айвенго / Ivanhoe» онлайн - страница 54

Cedric, who was sitting with them, seemed to act as chief of the assembly. When Richard entered, he rose and greeted him. Then he led him into a small and dark chapel. Two torches gave enough light to see the naked walls and the rude altar of stone. Before this altar there was a sarcophagus and on each side of it kneeled three priests, who were muttering their prayers. A big sum of money was paid to the convent of Saint Edmund’s by Athelstane’s mother; and to deserve it almost all the monks moved to Coningsburgh, where, while six of them were constantly near the sarcophagus of Athelstane, the others took their share of the food and drinks.

When they were alone in a special room for guests of a high rank Richard said to Cedric: “You have known me only as the Black Knight—Know me now as Richard Plantagenet.”

“Richard of Anjou!” exclaimed Cedric, stepping backward with astonishment.

“No, noble Cedric—Richard of England! – whose deepest interest is to see her sons united with each other. Now I want to remind you, noble Saxon, that when we last parted, you promised to give me a reward for what I’ve done for you.”

“It is given before it is named,” said Cedric.

“Then I demand from you, as a man of your word, to forgive the good knight, Wilfred of Ivanhoe.”

“Then this is Wilfred!” said Cedric.

“My father! – my father!” said Ivanhoe, throwing away his cloak and falling down at Cedric’s feet, “give me your forgiveness!”

“You have it, my son,” said Cedric, raising him up. “You are about to speak,” he added, “and I guess the topic. The Lady Rowena must complete two years’ mourning, as if for her husband before she can get married again. The ghost of Athelstane himself would come and stand before us to forbid us forget about his honour.”

It seemed that Cedric’s words had raised a ghost, because at this moment the door flew open and Athelstane, dressed in the garments of the grave, stood before them, pale, tired, and like someone arisen from the dead!

The effect of his appearance was very strong. Cedric started back as far as the wall of the apartment would let him and gazed on the figure of his friend with eyes that seemed fixed, and a mouth which he couldn’t shut. Ivanhoe crossed himself, repeating all the prayers in Saxon, Latin, or Norman-French that he could remember, without understanding his own words.

In the meantime, a horrible noise was heard below stairs, some crying, “Hold the monks!” and others, “Throw them into the dungeon!”

“In the name of God!” said Cedric, addressing what seemed the ghost of his dead friend, “if you are a man, speak! – if a spirit, say why you visit us. – Living or dead, noble Athelstane, speak to Cedric!”

“I will,” said the ghost, very calmly, “when I have collected breath, and when you give me time—Alive, you said? – I am as much alive as he can be who has eaten bread and drunk water for three days!”

“Why, noble Athelstane,” said the Black Knight, “I myself saw you struck down by the fierce Templar near the end of the storm at Torquilstone, and I thought, and Wamba reported, that your skull was cut through the teeth.”