Shadows avaunt!—–Richard’s himself again.
Richard III
When the Black Knight—–for it becomes
necessary to resume the train of his adventures—–left
the Trysting-tree of the generous Outlaw, he held
his way straight to a neighbouring religious house,
of small extent and revenue, called the Priory of Saint
Botolph, to which the wounded Ivanhoe had been removed
when the castle was taken, under the guidance of the
faithful Gurth, and the magnanimous Wamba. It
is unnecessary at present to mention what took place
in the interim betwixt Wilfred and his deliverer;
suffice it to say, that after long and grave communication,
messengers were dispatched by the Prior in several
directions, and that on the succeeding morning the
Black Knight was about to set forth on his journey,
accompanied by the jester Wamba, who attended as his
guide.
“We will meet,” he said to Ivanhoe, “at
Coningsburgh, the castle of the deceased Athelstane,
since there thy father Cedric holds the funeral feast
for his noble relation. I would see your Saxon
kindred together, Sir Wilfred, and become better acquainted
with them than heretofore. Thou also wilt meet
me; and it shall be my task to reconcile thee to thy
father.”
So saying, he took an affectionate farewell of Ivanhoe,
who expressed an anxious desire to attend upon his
deliverer. But the Black Knight would not listen
to the proposal.
“Rest this day; thou wilt have scarce strength
enough to travel on the next. I will have no
guide with me but honest Wamba, who can play priest
or fool as I shall be most in the humour.”
“And I,” said Wamba, “will attend
you with all my heart. I would fain see the feasting
at the funeral of Athelstane; for, if it be not full
and frequent, he will rise from the dead to rebuke
cook, sewer, and cupbearer; and that were a sight
worth seeing. Always, Sir Knight, I will trust
your valour with making my excuse to my master Cedric,
in case mine own wit should fail.”
“And how should my poor valour succeed, Sir
Jester, when thy light wit halts?—–resolve
me that.”
“Wit, Sir Knight,” replied the Jester,
“may do much. He is a quick, apprehensive
knave, who sees his neighbours blind side, and knows
how to keep the lee-gage when his passions are blowing
high. But valour is a sturdy fellow, that makes
all split. He rows against both wind and tide,
and makes way notwithstanding; and, therefore, good
Sir Knight, while I take advantage of the fair weather
in our noble master’s temper, I will expect you
to bestir yourself when it grows rough.”
“Sir Knight of the Fetterlock, since it is your
pleasure so to be distinguished,” said Ivanhoe,
“I fear me you have chosen a talkative and a
troublesome fool to be your guide. But he knows
every path and alley in the woods as well as e’er
a hunter who frequents them; and the poor knave, as
thou hast partly seen, is as faithful as steel.”
