"By the rood of Bromholme," said the Saxon, "you do but small credit to

your fame, Sir Prior! Report speaks you a bonny monk, that would hear

the matin chime ere he quitted his bowl; and, old as I am, I feared to

have shame in encountering you. But, by my faith, a Saxon boy of twelve,

in my time, would not so soon have relinquished his goblet."

The Prior had his own reasons, however, for persevering in the course

of temperance which he had adopted. He was not only a professional

peacemaker, but from practice a hater of all feuds and brawls. It was

not altogether from a love to his neighbour, or to himself, or from

a mixture of both. On the present occasion, he had an instinctive

apprehension of the fiery temper of the Saxon, and saw the danger that

the reckless and presumptuous spirit, of which his companion had

already given so many proofs, might at length produce some disagreeable

explosion. He therefore gently insinuated the incapacity of the native

of any other country to engage in the genial conflict of the bowl

with the hardy and strong-headed Saxons; something he mentioned, but

slightly, about his own holy character, and ended by pressing his

proposal to depart to repose.

The grace-cup was accordingly served round, and the guests, after making

deep obeisance to their landlord and to the Lady Rowena, arose and

mingled in the hall, while the heads of the family, by separate doors,

retired with their attendants.

"Unbelieving dog," said the Templar to Isaac the Jew, as he passed him

in the throng, "dost thou bend thy course to the tournament?"

"I do so propose," replied Isaac, bowing in all humility, "if it please

your reverend valour."

"Ay," said the Knight, "to gnaw the bowels of our nobles with usury,

and to gull women and boys with gauds and toys--I warrant thee store of

shekels in thy Jewish scrip."

"Not a shekel, not a silver penny, not a halfling--so help me the God

of Abraham!" said the Jew, clasping his hands; "I go but to seek the

assistance of some brethren of my tribe to aid me to pay the fine which

the Exchequer of the Jews have imposed upon me--Father Jacob be my

speed! I am an impoverished wretch--the very gaberdine I wear is

borrowed from Reuben of Tadcaster." [15]

The Templar smiled sourly as he replied, "Beshrew thee for a

false-hearted liar!" and passing onward, as if disdaining farther

conference, he communed with his Moslem slaves in a language unknown to

the bystanders. The poor Israelite seemed so staggered by the address

of the military monk, that the Templar had passed on to the extremity

of the hall ere he raised his head from the humble posture which he had

assumed, so far as to be sensible of his departure. And when he did

look around, it was with the astonished air of one at whose feet a

thunderbolt has just burst, and who hears still the astounding report

ringing in his ears.




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