Chapter 44

When the first moments of surprise were over, Wilfred of Ivanhoe demanded of the Grand Master, as judge of the field, if he had manfully and rightfully done his duty in the combat?

“Manfully and rightfully hath it been done,” said the Grand Master; “I pronounce the maiden free and guiltless—The arms and the body of the deceased knight are at the will of the victor.”

“I will not despoil him of his weapons,” said the Knight of Ivanhoe, “nor condemn his corpse to shame—he hath fought for Christendom—God’s arm, no human hand, hath this day struck him down. But let his obsequies be private, as becomes those of a man who died in an unjust quarrel.—And for the maiden—”

He was interrupted by a clattering of horses’ feet, advancing in such numbers, and so rapidly, as to shake the ground before them; and the Black Knight galloped into the lists. He was followed by a numerous band of men-at-arms, and several knights in complete armour.

“I am too late,” he said, looking around him. “I had doomed Bois-Guilbert for mine own property.—Ivanhoe, was this well, to take on thee such a venture, and thou scarce able to keep thy saddle?”

“Heaven, my Liege,” answered Ivanhoe, “hath taken this proud man for its victim. He was not to be honoured in dying as your will had designed.”

“Peace be with him,” said Richard, looking steadfastly on the corpse, “if it may be so—he was a gallant knight, and has died in his steel harness full knightly. But we must waste no time.—Bohun, do thine office!”

A knight stepped forward from the King’s attendants, and, laying his hand on the shoulder of Albert de Malvoisin, said, “I arrest thee of high treason.”

The Grand Master had hitherto stood astonished at the appearance of so many warriors.—He now spoke.

“Who dares to arrest a Knight of the Temple of Zion, within the girth of his own Preceptory, and in the presence of the Grand Master? and by whose authority is this bold outrage offered?”

“I make the arrest,” replied the Knight—“I, Henry Bohun, Earl of Essex, Lord High Constable of England.”

“And he arrests Malvoisin,” said the King, raising his visor, “by the order of Richard Plantagenet, here present.—Conrade Mont-Fitchet, it is well for thee thou art born no subject of mine.—But for thee, Malvoisin, thou diest with thy brother Philip, ere the world be a week older.”

“I will resist thy doom,” said the Grand Master.

“Proud Templar,” said the King, “thou canst not—look up, and behold the Royal Standard of England floats over thy towers instead of thy Temple banner!—Be wise, Beaumanoir, and make no bootless opposition.—Thy hand is in the lion’s mouth.”

“I will appeal to Rome against thee,” said the Grand Master, “for usurpation on the immunities and privileges of our Order.”

“Be it so,” said the King; “but for thine own sake tax me not with usurpation now. Dissolve thy Chapter, and depart with thy followers to thy next Preceptory (if thou canst find one), which has not been made the scene of treasonable conspiracy against the King of England.—Or, if thou wilt, remain, to share our hospitality, and behold our justice.”