Ascend the watch-tower yonder, valiant soldier, Look on the field, and say how goes the battle. Schiller's Maid of Orleans
A moment of peril is often also a moment of open-hearted kindness and affection. We are thrown off our guard by the general agitation of our feelings, and betray the intensity of those, which, at more tranquil periods, our prudence at least conceals, if it cannot altogether suppress them. In finding herself once more by the side of Ivanhoe, Rebecca was astonished at the keen sensation of pleasure which she experienced, even at a time when all around them both was danger, if not despair. As she felt his pulse, and enquired after his health, there was a softness in her touch and in her accents implying a kinder interest than she would herself have been pleased to have voluntarily expressed. Her voice faltered and her hand trembled, and it was only the cold question of Ivanhoe, "Is it you, gentle maiden?" which recalled her to herself, and reminded her the sensations which she felt were not and could not be mutual. A sigh escaped, but it was scarce audible; and the questions which she asked the knight concerning his state of health were put in the tone of calm friendship. Ivanhoe answered her hastily that he was, in point of health, as well, and better than he could have expected ---"Thanks," he said, "dear Rebecca, to thy helpful skill."
"He calls me DEAR Rebecca," said the maiden to herself, "but it is in the cold and careless tone which ill suits the word. His war-horse---his hunting hound, are dearer to him than the despised Jewess!"
"My mind, gentle maiden," continued Ivanhoe, "is more disturbed by anxiety, than my body with pain. From the speeches of those men who were my warders just now, I learn that I am a prisoner, and, if I judge aright of the loud hoarse voice which even now dispatched them hence on some military duty, I am in the castle of Front-de-Boeuf---If so, how will this end, or how can I protect Rowena and my father?"
"He names not the Jew or Jewess," said Rebecca internally; "yet what is our portion in him, and how justly am I punished by Heaven for letting my thoughts dwell upon him!" She hastened after this brief self-accusation to give Ivanhoe what information she could; but it amounted only to this, that the Templar Bois-Guilbert, and the Baron Front-de-Boeuf, were commanders within the castle; that it was beleaguered from without, but by whom she knew not. She added, that there was a Christian priest within the castle who might be possessed of more information.
"A Christian priest!" said the knight, joyfully; "fetch him hither, Rebecca, if thou canst---say a sick man desires his ghostly counsel---say what thou wilt, but bring him---something I must do or attempt, but how can I determine until I know how matters stand without?"
Rebecca in compliance with the wishes of Ivanhoe, made that attempt to bring Cedric into the wounded Knight's chamber, which was defeated as we have already seen by the interference of Urfried, who had also been on the watch to intercept the supposed monk. Rebecca retired to communicate to Ivanhoe the result of her errand.
They had not much leisure to regret the failure of this source of intelligence, or to contrive by what means it might be supplied; for the noise within the castle, occasioned by the defensive preparations which had been considerable for some time, now increased into tenfold bustle and clamour. The heavy, yet hasty step of the men-at-arms, traversed the battlements or resounded on the narrow and winding passages and stairs which led to the various bartisans and points of defence. The voices of the knights were heard, animating their followers, or directing means of defence, while their commands were often drowned in the clashing of armour, or the clamorous shouts of those whom they addressed. Tremendous as these sounds were, and yet more terrible from the awful event which they presaged, there was a sublimity mixed with them, which Rebecca's high-toned mind could feel even in that moment of terror. Her eye kindled, although the blood fled from her cheeks; and there was a strong mixture of fear, and of a thrilling sense of the sublime, as she repeated, half whispering to herself, half speaking to her companion, the sacred text,---"The quiver rattleth---the glittering spear and the shield---the noise of the captains and the shouting!"
But Ivanhoe was like the war-horse of that sublime passage, glowing with impatience at his inactivity, and with his ardent desire to mingle in the affray of which these sounds were the introduction. "If I could but drag myself," he said, "to yonder window, that I might see how this brave game is like to go---If I had but bow to shoot a shaft, or battle-axe to strike were it but a single blow for our deliverance!---It is in vain---it is in vain---I am alike nerveless and weaponless!"
"Fret not thyself, noble knight," answered Rebecca, "the sounds have ceased of a sudden---it may be they join not battle."
"Thou knowest nought of it," said Wilfred, impatiently; "this dead pause only shows that the men are at their posts on the walls, and expecting an instant attack; what we have heard was but the instant muttering of the storm---it will burst anon in all its fury.---Could I but reach yonder window!"
"Thou wilt but injure thyself by the attempt, noble knight," replied his attendant. Observing his extreme solicitude, she firmly added, "I myself will stand at the lattice, and describe to you as I can what passes without."
"You must not---you shall not!" exclaimed Ivanhoe; "each lattice, each aperture, will be soon a mark for the archers; some random shaft---"
"It shall be welcome!" murmured Rebecca, as with firm pace she ascended two or three steps, which led to the window of which they spoke.
"Rebecca, dear Rebecca!" exclaimed Ivanhoe, "this is no maiden's pastime---do not expose thyself to wounds and death, and render me for ever miserable for having given the occasion; at least, cover thyself with yonder ancient buckler, and show as little of your person at the lattice as may be."
Following with wonderful promptitude the directions of Ivanhoe, and availing herself of the protection of the large ancient shield, which she placed against the lower part of the window, Rebecca, with tolerable security to herself, could witness part of what was passing without the castle, and report to Ivanhoe the preparations which the assailants were making for the storm. Indeed the situation which she thus obtained was peculiarly favourable for this purpose, because, being placed on an angle of the main building, Rebecca could not only see what passed beyond the precincts of the castle, but also commanded a view of the outwork likely to be the first object of the meditated assault. It was an exterior fortification of no great height or strength, intended to protect the postern-gate, through which Cedric had been recently dismissed by Front-de-Boeuf. The castle moat divided this species of barbican from the rest of the fortress, so that, in case of its being taken, it was easy to cut off the communication with the main building, by withdrawing the temporary bridge. In the outwork was a sallyport corresponding to the postern of the castle, and the whole was surrounded by a strong palisade. Rebecca could observe, from the number of men placed for the defence of this post, that the besieged entertained apprehensions for its safety; and from the mustering of the assailants in a direction nearly opposite to the outwork, it seemed no less plain that it had been selected as a vulnerable point of attack.
These appearances she hastily communicated to Ivanhoe, and added, "The skirts of the wood seem lined with archers, although only a few are advanced from its dark shadow."
"Under what banner?" asked Ivanhoe.
"Under no ensign of war which I can observe," answered Rebecca.
"A singular novelty," muttered the knight, "to advance to storm such a castle without pennon or banner displayed!---Seest thou who they be that act as leaders?"
"A knight, clad in sable armour, is the most conspicuous," said the Jewess; "he alone is armed from head to heel, and seems to assume the direction of all around him."
"What device does he bear on his shield?" replied Ivanhoe.
"Something resembling a bar of iron, and a padlock painted blue on the black shield."*
* Note F. Heraldry
"A fetterlock and shacklebolt azure," said Ivanhoe; "I know not who may bear the device, but well I ween it might now be mine own. Canst thou not see the motto?"
"Scarce the device itself at this distance," replied Rebecca; "but when the sun glances fair upon his shield, it shows as I tell you."
"Seem there no other leaders?" exclaimed the anxious enquirer.
"None of mark and distinction that I can behold from this station," said Rebecca; "but, doubtless, the other side of the castle is also assailed. They appear even now preparing to advance---God of Zion, protect us!---What a dreadful sight! ---Those who advance first bear huge shields and defences made of plank; the others follow, bending their bows as they come on. ---They raise their bows!---God of Moses, forgive the creatures thou hast made!"
Her description was here suddenly interrupted by the signal for assault, which was given by the blast of a shrill bugle, and at once answered by a flourish of the Norman trumpets from the battlements, which, mingled with the deep and hollow clang of the nakers, (a species of kettle-drum,) retorted in notes of defiance the challenge of the enemy. The shouts of both parties augmented the fearful din, the assailants crying, "Saint George for merry England!" and the Normans answering them with loud cries of "En avant De Bracy!---Beau-seant! Beau-seant!---Front-de-Boeuf a la rescousse!" according to the war-cries of their different commanders.
It was not, however, by clamour that the contest was to be decided, and the desperate efforts of the assailants were met by an equally vigorous defence on the part of the besieged. The archers, trained by their woodland pastimes to the most effective use of the long-bow, shot, to use the appropriate phrase of the time, so "wholly together," that no point at which a defender could show the least part of his person, escaped their cloth-yard shafts. By this heavy discharge, which continued as thick and sharp as hail, while, notwithstanding, every arrow had its individual aim, and flew by scores together against each embrasure and opening in the parapets, as well as at every window where a defender either occasionally had post, or might be suspected to be stationed,---by this sustained discharge, two or three of the garrison were slain, and several others wounded. But, confident in their armour of proof, and in the cover which their situation afforded, the followers of Front-de-Boeuf, and his allies, showed an obstinacy in defence proportioned to the fury of the attack and replied with the discharge of their large cross-bows, as well as with their long-bows, slings, and other missile weapons, to the close and continued shower of arrows; and, as the assailants were necessarily but indifferently protected, did considerably more damage than they received at their hand. The whizzing of shafts and of missiles, on both sides, was only interrupted by the shouts which arose when either side inflicted or sustained some notable loss.
"And I must lie here like a bedridden monk," exclaimed Ivanhoe, "while the game that gives me freedom or death is played out by the hand of others!---Look from the window once again, kind maiden, but beware that you are not marked by the archers beneath --Look out once more, and tell me if they yet advance to the storm."
With patient courage, strengthened by the interval which she had employed in mental devotion, Rebecca again took post at the lattice, sheltering herself, however, so as not to be visible from beneath.
"What dost thou see, Rebecca?" again demanded the wounded knight.
"Nothing but the cloud of arrows flying so thick as to dazzle mine eyes, and to hide the bowmen who shoot them."
"That cannot endure," said Ivanhoe; "if they press not right on to carry the castle by pure force of arms, the archery may avail but little against stone walls and bulwarks. Look for the Knight of the Fetterlock, fair Rebecca, and see how he bears himself; for as the leader is, so will his followers be."
"I see him not," said Rebecca.
"Foul craven!" exclaimed Ivanhoe; "does he blench from the helm when the wind blows highest?"
"He blenches not! he blenches not!" said Rebecca, "I see him now; he leads a body of men close under the outer barrier of the barbican.*
* Every Gothic castle and city had, beyond the outer-walls, * a fortification composed of palisades, called the * barriers, which were often the scene of severe * skirmishes, as these must necessarily be carried before * the walls themselves could be approached. Many of those * valiant feats of arms which adorn the chivalrous pages of * Froissart took place at the barriers of besieged places.
---They pull down the piles and palisades; they hew down the barriers with axes.---His high black plume floats abroad over the throng, like a raven over the field of the slain.---They have made a breach in the barriers---they rush in---they are thrust back!---Front-de-Boeuf heads the defenders; I see his gigantic form above the press. They throng again to the breach, and the pass is disputed hand to hand, and man to man. God of Jacob! it is the meeting of two fierce tides---the conflict of two oceans moved by adverse winds!"
She turned her head from the lattice, as if unable longer to endure a sight so terrible.
"Look forth again, Rebecca," said Ivanhoe, mistaking the cause of her retiring; "the archery must in some degree have ceased, since they are now fighting hand to hand.---Look again, there is now less danger."
Rebecca again looked forth, and almost immediately exclaimed, "Holy prophets of the law! Front-de-Boeuf and the Black Knight fight hand to hand on the breach, amid the roar of their followers, who watch the progress of the strife---Heaven strike with the cause of the oppressed and of the captive!" She then uttered a loud shriek, and exclaimed, "He is down!---he is down!"
"Who is down?" cried Ivanhoe; "for our dear Lady's sake, tell me which has fallen?"
"The Black Knight," answered Rebecca, faintly; then instantly again shouted with joyful eagerness---"But no---but no!---the name of the Lord of Hosts be blessed!---he is on foot again, and fights as if there were twenty men's strength in his single arm ---His sword is broken---he snatches an axe from a yeoman---he presses Front-de-Boeuf with blow on blow---The giant stoops and totters like an oak under the steel of the woodman---he falls ---he falls!"
"Front-de-Boeuf?" exclaimed Ivanhoe.
"Front-de-Boeuf!" answered the Jewess; "his men rush to the rescue, headed by the haughty Templar---their united force compels the champion to pause---They drag Front-de-Boeuf within the walls."
"The assailants have won the barriers, have they not?" said Ivanhoe.
"They have---they have!" exclaimed Rebecca---"and they press the besieged hard upon the outer wall; some plant ladders, some swarm like bees, and endeavour to ascend upon the shoulders of each other---down go stones, beams, and trunks of trees upon their heads, and as fast as they bear the wounded to the rear, fresh men supply their places in the assault---Great God! hast thou given men thine own image, that it should be thus cruelly defaced by the hands of their brethren!"
"Think not of that," said Ivanhoe; "this is no time for such thoughts---Who yield?---who push their way?"
"The ladders are thrown down," replied Rebecca, shuddering; "the soldiers lie grovelling under them like crushed reptiles---The besieged have the better."
"Saint George strike for us!" exclaimed the knight; "do the false yeomen give way?"
"No!" exclaimed Rebecca, "they bear themselves right yeomanly ---the Black Knight approaches the postern with his huge axe ---the thundering blows which he deals, you may hear them above all the din and shouts of the battle---Stones and beams are hailed down on the bold champion---he regards them no more than if they were thistle-down or feathers!"
"By Saint John of Acre," said Ivanhoe, raising himself joyfully on his couch, "methought there was but one man in England that might do such a deed!"
"The postern gate shakes," continued Rebecca; "it crashes---it is splintered by his blows---they rush in---the outwork is won---Oh, God!---they hurl the defenders from the battlements---they throw them into the moat---O men, if ye be indeed men, spare them that can resist no longer!"
"The bridge---the bridge which communicates with the castle ---have they won that pass?" exclaimed Ivanhoe.
"No," replied Rebecca, "The Templar has destroyed the plank on which they crossed---few of the defenders escaped with him into the castle--- the shrieks and cries which you hear tell the fate of the others---Alas!---I see it is still more difficult to look upon victory than upon battle."
"What do they now, maiden?" said Ivanhoe; "look forth yet again ---this is no time to faint at bloodshed."
"It is over for the time," answered Rebecca; "our friends strengthen themselves within the outwork which they have mastered, and it affords them so good a shelter from the foemen's shot, that the garrison only bestow a few bolts on it from interval to interval, as if rather to disquiet than effectually to injure them."
"Our friends," said Wilfred, "will surely not abandon an enterprise so gloriously begun and so happily attained.---O no! I will put my faith in the good knight whose axe hath rent heart-of-oak and bars of iron.---Singular," he again muttered to himself, "if there be two who can do a deed of such derring-do!*
* "Derring-do"---desperate courage.
---a fetterlock, and a shacklebolt on a field sable---what may that mean?---seest thou nought else, Rebecca, by which the Black Knight may be distinguished?"
"Nothing," said the Jewess; "all about him is black as the wing of the night raven. Nothing can I spy that can mark him further ---but having once seen him put forth his strength in battle, methinks I could know him again among a thousand warriors. He rushes to the fray as if he were summoned to a banquet. There is more than mere strength, there seems as if the whole soul and spirit of the champion were given to every blow which he deals upon his enemies. God assoilize him of the sin of bloodshed! ---it is fearful, yet magnificent, to behold how the arm and heart of one man can triumph over hundreds."
"Rebecca," said Ivanhoe, "thou hast painted a hero; surely they rest but to refresh their force, or to provide the means of crossing the moat---Under such a leader as thou hast spoken this knight to be, there are no craven fears, no cold-blooded delays, no yielding up a gallant emprize; since the difficulties which render it arduous render it also glorious. I swear by the honour of my house---I vow by the name of my bright lady-love, I would endure ten years' captivity to fight one day by that good knight's side in such a quarrel as this!"
"Alas," said Rebecca, leaving her station at the window, and approaching the couch of the wounded knight, "this impatient yearning after action---this struggling with and repining at your present weakness, will not fail to injure your returning health ---How couldst thou hope to inflict wounds on others, ere that be healed which thou thyself hast received?"
"Rebecca," he replied, "thou knowest not how impossible it is for one trained to actions of chivalry to remain passive as a priest, or a woman, when they are acting deeds of honour around him. The love of battle is the food upon which we live---the dust of the 'melee' is the breath of our nostrils! We live not---we wish not to live---longer than while we are victorious and renowned ---Such, maiden, are the laws of chivalry to which we are sworn, and to which we offer all that we hold dear."
"Alas!" said the fair Jewess, "and what is it, valiant knight, save an offering of sacrifice to a demon of vain glory, and a passing through the fire to Moloch?---What remains to you as the prize of all the blood you have spilled---of all the travail and pain you have endured---of all the tears which your deeds have caused, when death hath broken the strong man's spear, and overtaken the speed of his war-horse?"
"What remains?" cried Ivanhoe; "Glory, maiden, glory! which gilds our sepulchre and embalms our name."
"Glory?" continued Rebecca; "alas, is the rusted mail which hangs as a hatchment over the champion's dim and mouldering tomb---is the defaced sculpture of the inscription which the ignorant monk can hardly read to the enquiring pilgrim---are these sufficient rewards for the sacrifice of every kindly affection, for a life spent miserably that ye may make others miserable? Or is there such virtue in the rude rhymes of a wandering bard, that domestic love, kindly affection, peace and happiness, are so wildly bartered, to become the hero of those ballads which vagabond minstrels sing to drunken churls over their evening ale?"
"By the soul of Hereward!" replied the knight impatiently, "thou speakest, maiden, of thou knowest not what. Thou wouldst quench the pure light of chivalry, which alone distinguishes the noble from the base, the gentle knight from the churl and the savage; which rates our life far, far beneath the pitch of our honour; raises us victorious over pain, toil, and suffering, and teaches us to fear no evil but disgrace. Thou art no Christian, Rebecca; and to thee are unknown those high feelings which swell the bosom of a noble maiden when her lover hath done some deed of emprize which sanctions his flame. Chivalry!---why, maiden, she is the nurse of pure and high affection---the stay of the oppressed, the redresser of grievances, the curb of the power of the tyrant ---Nobility were but an empty name without her, and liberty finds the best protection in her lance and her sword."
"I am, indeed," said Rebecca, "sprung from a race whose courage was distinguished in the defence of their own land, but who warred not, even while yet a nation, save at the command of the Deity, or in defending their country from oppression. The sound of the trumpet wakes Judah no longer, and her despised children are now but the unresisting victims of hostile and military oppression. Well hast thou spoken, Sir Knight,---until the God of Jacob shall raise up for his chosen people a second Gideon, or a new Maccabeus, it ill beseemeth the Jewish damsel to speak of battle or of war."
The high-minded maiden concluded the argument in a tone of sorrow, which deeply expressed her sense of the degradation of her people, embittered perhaps by the idea that Ivanhoe considered her as one not entitled to interfere in a case of honour, and incapable of entertaining or expressing sentiments of honour and generosity.
"How little he knows this bosom," she said, "to imagine that cowardice or meanness of soul must needs be its guests, because I have censured the fantastic chivalry of the Nazarenes! Would to heaven that the shedding of mine own blood, drop by drop, could redeem the captivity of Judah! Nay, would to God it could avail to set free my father, and this his benefactor, from the chains of the oppressor! The proud Christian should then see whether the daughter of God's chosen people dared not to die as bravely as the vainest Nazarene maiden, that boasts her descent from some petty chieftain of the rude and frozen north!"
She then looked towards the couch of the wounded knight.
"He sleeps," she said; "nature exhausted by sufferance and the waste of spirits, his wearied frame embraces the first moment of temporary relaxation to sink into slumber. Alas! is it a crime that I should look upon him, when it may be for the last time? ---When yet but a short space, and those fair features will be no longer animated by the bold and buoyant spirit which forsakes them not even in sleep!---When the nostril shall be distended, the mouth agape, the eyes fixed and bloodshot; and when the proud and noble knight may be trodden on by the lowest caitiff of this accursed castle, yet stir not when the heel is lifted up against him!---And my father!---oh, my father! evil is it with his daughter, when his grey hairs are not remembered because of the golden locks of youth!---What know I but that these evils are the messengers of Jehovah's wrath to the unnatural child, who thinks of a stranger's captivity before a parent's? who forgets the desolation of Judah, and looks upon the comeliness of a Gentile and a stranger?---But I will tear this folly from my heart, though every fibre bleed as I rend it away!"
She wrapped herself closely in her veil, and sat down at a distance from the couch of the wounded knight, with her back turned towards it, fortifying, or endeavouring to fortify her mind, not only against the impending evils from without, but also against those treacherous feelings which assailed her from within.
勇敢的战士，登上那边的瞭望塔，
看看田野上的情形，把战况告诉我。
席勒：《奥尔良的姑娘》(注)
--------
(注)席勒的剧本，描写英法百年战争时期，法国女英雄贞德抗击英军的故事。
危险的时刻往往也是胸怀磊落、真诚相待的时刻。心情的焦急不安使我们丢开顾虑，流露真实的感情，可是在较为平静的时期，谨慎的心理虽然不致完全扼杀它们，至少也会隐瞒它们。丽贝卡又来到了艾文荷的病榻旁边，发现自己竟会这么高兴，尽管他们的处境即使不能说绝望，也是危机四伏，这使她觉得诧异，不能理解。她给他诊脉和询问病情时，态度和口气显得那么温柔，包含着一种她自己也不愿坦率承认的亲切感情。她讲话吞吞吐吐，手有些发抖，只是艾文荷那句冷冷的问话。“这是你吗，好心的姑娘？”才唤醒了她，使她想起，她意识到的那种感情不是，也不可能是他们彼此共同的。她发出了一声叹息，但轻得几乎听不见；她询问他的病情时，声调变得平静了，只是友谊的表现。艾文荷匆匆回答说，从健康状况看，他觉得很好，甚至比他预期的更好，最后说道：“谢谢你、亲爱的丽贝卡，你的医术给了我很大的帮助。”
“他叫我亲爱的丽贝卡，”姑娘在心里琢磨，“但口气又那么冷淡和漫不经心，与那个称呼并不协调。在他眼中，他的战马，他的猎犬，比一个下贱的犹太姑娘是更可爱的。”
“好心的姑娘，”艾文荷继续道，“现在我受不了的主要是心情烦躁，不是身体上的疼痛。从刚才看守我的两个人的谈话中，我知道我成了一个俘虏；如果我判断得不错，那么把他们派去打仗的声音嘶哑的大嗓门家伙，便是牛面将军，我是关在他的城堡内。如果这样，后果会怎样，我又怎么能保护罗文娜和我的父亲呢？”
“他没有想到犹太人或犹太姑娘，”丽贝卡又在心中嚼咕道，“对他说来我们算得了什么，我却老是惦记着他，这真是罪孽，老天爷对我的惩罚！”对自己作了这简单的谴责之后，她便向艾文荷谈了她所知道的一些情况，这无非是：圣殿骑士布里恩·布瓦吉贝尔和牛面将军在城堡内指挥战斗，它遭到了围攻，但围攻的是什么人，她不知道。接着她又说，城堡内来了一个基督教神父，他可能知道得比较清楚。
“一个基督教神父！”骑士说，非常兴奋。“丽贝卡，请你想想办法，把他找来。你就对他说，有一个病人需要他作安魂祈祷——随你怎么说都可以，必须把他带来；有些事我应当做，或者早作安排，但不知道外面的情形，我怎么决定呢？”
丽贝卡顺从了艾文荷的要求，便去找塞德里克，想带他到伤员屋里来；我们已经看到，这事她没办成，她遭到了厄弗利德的阻挠，后者也在寻找机会，想拦住那位假神父。丽贝卡只得回到艾文荷身边，告诉他使命没有完成。
打听消息失败之后，他们没有时间感到遗憾，或者另想别法，因为城堡内为了准备防御，嘈杂声一直持续不断，现在更变得响了十倍，似乎大家都在忙碌张罗，奔走叫喊。军人沉重而匆忙的脚步声，在城楼上来来去去，也在通向各个碉堡和防御点的狭窄曲折的过道中，或楼梯上回旋震荡；还有骑士们催促部下或指挥布防的吆喝声，但他们的命令往往湮没在销甲的碰撞声，或者接受命令的那些人的叫嚷声中。这各种各样的吵闹声由于预示着可怕的事件，更显得惊心动魄，然而它也包含着一种庄严的情调，这是丽贝卡那高昂的心灵，哪怕在这恐怖的时刻也能感受到的。她的脸颊虽然失去了血色，眼睛却那么明亮，她既害怕，又为这个庄严的时刻而激动不已，反复念诵着经书中的句子，既像哺哺自语，又像在小声念给她的同伴听：“箭袋刷刷出声……长枪和盾牌闪闪发亮……首领在吆喝和呐喊！”
艾文荷也像这段庄严的经文中的战马，对自己的无能为力感到烦躁不安，恨不得立即投身到这些声浪所预告的战斗中去。“要是我能走动，”他说，“能到那扇窗口去，我就可以看到这场勇敢的搏斗可能怎么进行了！要是我能拿起弓来射一枝箭，或者举起战斧挥舞一下，为我们的得救出一把力，那就好了！可是这都是痴心妄想——我既没有力气，也没有武器！”
“不要折磨自己，尊贵的骑士，”丽贝卡答道。“叫喊声突然停止了，也许他们不打啦。”
“你根本不懂，”威尔弗莱德焦躁地说，“这沉寂只是显示大家已在城墙上各就各位，等待着进攻随时开始。我们听到的只是风暴在远处的呼啸，但它立刻可能来临，变成一场狂风暴雨。我真想到那边窗口看看！”
“你这么做只能害你自己，尊贵的骑士，”他的护士答道。看到他焦急万分，她又坚定地说道：“还是让我站在格子窗前，把外面发生的情形告诉你吧。”
“不能这么做——千万不能！”艾文荷喊道。“每个窗口，每个窟窿，很快就会成为弓箭手射击的目标；一支流矢也可能……”
“我不怕！”丽贝卡嘟哝道，马上迈着坚定的步子，向他们所说的那扇格子窗走去，跨上了两三级石阶。
“丽贝卡——亲爱的丽贝卡！”艾文荷喊道，“这不是小姑娘玩的游戏；不要冒险，这可能造成伤亡，万一发生什么，我会终生遗憾的；至少用那个旧盾牌挡一下，尽量使自己不致暴露在格子窗前面。”
丽贝卡以出奇的敏捷，按照艾文荷的指导，把一面巨大的旧盾牌遮住窗口的下半部，这样她既可以用它保护自己，又可以躲在它后面，窥察城堡外面的活动，向艾文荷报告攻城部队进行的各种部署。确实，她这时所处的位置对这目的是特别有利的，因为这时她与主楼构成的角度，使她不仅可以看到城堡周围的区域，而且那个可能成为第一个进攻目标的外围工事，也在她的视线之内。这个外部碉楼并不太高，也不太大，它的作用只是保护城堡的边门，也就是最近牛面将军送走塞德里克的那个门。这类碉楼由城堡的壕沟与主堡隔开，万一它被攻占，随时可以曳起临时吊桥，切断它与主要建筑的交通。碉楼有一个出击口，与城堡的边门处在一直线上，整个小楼周围筑有一道坚固的木栅。从驻守这个据点的人数上，丽贝卡不难发现，守城部队对它的安全比较担心；进攻者几乎就集结在与工事遥遥相对的地方，从这点看，很清楚，它已被选定为进攻的突破口。
这些现象，她迅速通知了艾文荷，并且告诉他：“树林的边缘地带布置了弓箭手，尽管露出在树荫外的人不多。”
“打着什么旗子？”艾文荷问。
“我没有看到什么旗子，”丽贝卡回答。
“简直是咄咄怪事，”骑士咕哝道，“要进攻这么一个城堡，却没有一面军旗，不打旗号！你看到指挥这行动的人吗？”
“那是一个骑士，穿一身黑盔黑甲，十分明显，”犹太姑娘说。“只有他从头到脚全副武装，由此可见，整个行动是他指挥的。”
“他的盾牌上画的什么纹章？”艾文荷问。
“好像在黑色的盾牌上画着一根铁条，还有一把蓝色的挂锁。”(注)
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(注)见作者附注五。——原注
“那是表示淡青色的手铐和脚镣，”艾文荷说。“我不知道谁会用这种纹章，不过它与我目前的状况倒有些相似。你能看到它的题词吗？”
“在这么远的地方，连图样也不太清楚呢，”丽贝卡答道。“只因刚才太阳光直射在盾牌上，我才看到一些图样，告诉了你。”
“那么没有别的领导人吗？”骑士又焦急地问。
“从我这个位置，我看不到别的有特殊标志的人，”丽贝卡说。“不过很清楚，进攻的锋芒也指向城堡的另一边。他们好像随时在准备冲锋——锡恩的上帝保佑我们吧！多么可怕的景象！冲在最前面的都手拿巨大的盾牌，头上顶着防御用的木板；跟在后面的便挽着弓前进。他们举起了引摩西的上帝啊，饶恕你所创造的人类吧！”
就在这时，她的描述突然给进攻的号音打断了，那是一阵尖厉的号角声；诺曼人也立即从城楼上吹响了军号，那是对敌人的进攻表示藐视的号音，其中还夹杂着沉闷的冬冬声，一种铜鼓发出的声音。双方的呐喊更扩大了那恐怖的声浪，进攻的一边喊的是：“圣乔治万岁，快活的英格兰万岁！”诺曼人根据指挥官的不同，有的大喊：“杀啊，德布拉西在这里！”有的大喊：“黑白旗万岁！黑白旗万岁！”也有的喊的是：“牛面将军前来支援啦！”
然而决定胜负的不是呐喊，城外发动了猛烈的进攻，被围困的城堡也展开了同样猛烈的抵抗。弓箭手们在森林的狩猎活动中训练有素，现在发挥了弓弩的强大优势，用当时恰如其分的说法，真可谓“箭如雨下”，防守者全身的任何部分一旦暴露，立刻会给他们的长箭射中。这密集的射击气势凌厉，持续不断，每校箭既有各自的目标，又几十枝的同时射向胸墙上的每个洞眼或窟窿，射向每个窗口，不论那里有没有人防守，只要可能有人，都会遭到射击，结果守兵死了两三个，还有几个受了伤。但是牛面将军和两个伙伴的部下，自恃盔甲在身，而且有城墙掩护，在防守中表现得相当顽强，几乎与进攻者不相上下。他们用强弓硬弩、投石器和各种射击武器，回答对方密集的飞矢。由于进攻者缺乏必要的掩护，他们的伤亡比他们造成的伤亡大得多。箭和飞射物的啸鸣，只有在某一方遭受重大损失引起惊叫时，才会暂时停止一会。
“我只能躺在这里，像一个卧床不起的修士，”艾文荷喊道，“这是一场决定我生死存亡的战斗，我却无能为力，只得靠别人去进行！仁慈的姑娘，请你再看一下窗外，但要注意，别给下面的弓箭手当作射击的目标。请你再张一下，看他们是不是还在进攻。”
丽贝卡经过这段时间的精神准备，已把生死置之度外，重又坚定地走到了格子窗前，但把身子隐蔽在一边，不让下边的人发现。
“丽贝卡，你看到了什么？”受伤的骑士又问道。
“什么也看不见，只有一片密集的飞箭，使我的眼睛都花了，连射箭的弓手也看不到。”
“这样不成，”艾文荷说，“如果他们不能靠强大的实力向城堡发动攻势，单凭射箭是攻不破石墙和堡垒的。找找那个盾牌上画镣铐的骑士，美丽的丽贝卡，看他在做什么，因为领导人怎么做，他的部下也会怎么做。”
“我没有看到他，”丽贝卡说。
“无耻的懦夫！”艾文荷喊道，“难道在暴风雨到来的时候，这个舵手却离开了岗位？”
“他没有离开，没有离开！”丽贝卡答道。“现在我看见他了，他带着一小队人逼近了碉楼外面的屏障篱。他们正在拔除木桩和栅栏，用斧头砍倒屏障篱。他那高高的黑翎饰在众人头顶飘动，像乌鸦在堆积尸体的战场上盘旋。他们在篱墙上打开了一个缺口——他们冲进去了——又给顶回来了！牛面将军率领一队兵守在那里，我在密集的人群中看到了他高大的身子。他们又向缺口冲去，双方展开了肉搏，一个对一个争夺通道。雅各的上帝啊！这是两股猛烈的潮水在搏斗——两股相反的风浪在互相冲击！”
她从窗口别转了头，仿佛再也不敢看这可怕的场面了。。
“再向外边望一下，丽贝卡，”艾文荷说，误会了她回过头来的原因，“现在大概放箭不多了，因为双方已在展开肉搏。你再看看，现在危险不大了。”
丽贝卡又向外望了一下，马上惊叫道：“神圣的先知啊！牛面将军和黑甲骑士在缺口搏斗呢，他们的部下在旁边呐喊助威，注视着搏斗的进展。上帝啊，救救被压迫被囚禁的人吧！”接着她发出了一声尖叫，大喊道；“他摔倒了！……他摔倒了！”
“谁摔倒了？”艾文荷大声问，“看在圣母分上，快告诉我谁摔倒了！”
“黑甲骑士，”丽贝卡答道，有些泄气，但接着又高兴得大喊起来，“不对……不对！光荣归于万军之主的耶和华！他又站起来战斗了，他一条胳膊仿佛有二十个人的力气似的。他的剑断了——他从一个庄户人手里夺过一把战斧——他不断挥舞着它，把牛面将军逼得步步后退。大个子弯一下了腰，站不稳了，像一棵栎树已给樵夫砍得摇摇欲坠——他倒下了——他倒下了！”
“牛面将军吗？”艾文荷喊道。
“对，牛面将军，”犹太姑娘答道。“他的人赶来救他了，傲慢的圣殿骑士跑在前面，他们人多，逼得那位勇士只得住手。他们夺走牛面将军，把他抬进了城堡。”
“进攻的人已拿下了屏障篱，是不是？”艾文荷问。
“拿下了，拿下了！”丽贝卡喊道，“他们已在攻打外堡的城楼；一些人在架云梯，其他的人蜂拥而上，拼命想踩着彼此的肩膀爬上城楼；石头、圆木、树杆纷纷落到了他们头顶，受伤的人马上给送往后方，新来的人又代替他们参加进攻。伟大的上帝啊！你把自己的形象给了人类，为什么他们这么残忍，要消灭自己的弟兄呢！”
“别那么想，”艾文荷说，“现在没有时间想这些事。谁退却了？谁在向前推进？”
“云梯给推倒了，”丽贝卡答道，身子索索发抖，“战士们趴在地上，跟压伤的爬虫似的。守城的一边占了上风。”
“圣乔治啊，帮助我们吧！”骑士嚷道。“不中用的庄稼人，他们退却了吗？”
“没有！”丽贝卡大声回答，“他们表现得很英勇。黑甲骑士提着大战斧逼近了小门；他把门打得震天价响，在一片喊杀声中还可听到。石头和圆木冰雹般向这位勇士打来，可是他毫不理会，只当它们是飞蓬或鸡毛！”
“凭阿克的圣约翰起誓，”艾文荷说，兴奋得从病榻上撑起了身子，“我敢说，全英国只有一个人能够这么战斗！”
“小门摇动了，”丽贝卡继续道，“它坍了——给他的斧头砍成碎片了——他们冲了进去——碉堡给占领了。啊，上帝！他们把守兵从城楼上扔了下来——扔进了壕沟。人啊，如果你们真的是人，就饶了他们吧，他们已不能反抗！”
“那吊桥——那连接城堡的吊桥，他们拿下它没有？”艾文荷大声问。
“没有，”丽贝卡答道，“圣殿骑士一过桥，就把它破坏了；只有不多几个守兵与他一起逃进城堡——你听到的尖叫和喊声，便说明了另一些人的命运。哎哟！我看，要在战斗中取得胜利还很困难呢。”
“姑娘，他们这会儿在干什么啦？”艾文荷问。“再向外看看——现在不是害怕流血的时候。”
“进攻暂时停顿了，”丽贝卡答道。“我们的朋友们占领了碉堡，正在休整呢。这是很好的隐蔽所，守城部队虽然还在断断续续向他们射箭，可是不能真的伤害他们，只能发挥一些骚扰作用。”
“战斗已取得了这么辉煌的成绩，这么可喜的结果，我们的朋友们肯定不会半途而废，”威尔弗莱德说道。“决不会！我相信那个出色的骑士，他的斧头可以砍断株树和铁栅呢。唯独他有这本领，”他又自言自语似的咕哝道，“我敢说，没有第二个人会这么勇敢，力气会这么大！在黑色背景上的一副手铐，一副脚镣——那可能是什么意义？丽贝卡，你没看到黑甲骑士还有什么别的标志吗？”
“没有，”犹太姑娘答道， “他全身黑得像一只夜间出没的渡鸦。我看不到他还有什么其他标志；不过只要看到他打仗时那浑身是劲的样子，我想，哪怕他在千军万马中，我也能识别他。他对冲锋陷阵满不在乎，好像那是参加一次宴会。他有的不仅仅是力气，似乎这位勇士把自己的全部心灵和精力，都集中在对敌人的每一下打击中了。上帝宽恕他，别计较他杀人的罪孽吧！看到一个人怎么凭他的臂力和勇气，能战胜几百个人，这是可怕的，但也十分壮观。”
“丽贝卡，”艾文荷说，“你描绘出了一个英雄的风貌；毫无疑问，他们只是休息一下，以便积蓄力量，跨越壕沟。在你所说的这样一个骑士的领导下，是不会因循退缩，不会迟疑犹豫，不会让一场英勇的战斗前功尽弃的，因为困难固然使战斗变得艰巨，也使它变得光荣了。我以我家族的荣誉起誓，以我光辉的情人起誓，我可以忍受十年的监禁，只要有一天能与那位杰出的骑士并肩战斗，夺取胜利！”
“唉！”丽贝卡转身离开了窗口，走近伤员的卧榻旁边，说道，“这种对行动的无法忍耐的渴望，这种对目前的虚弱状态无能为力的怨恨，必然会对你的复原产生不利影响。在你自己的伤没有养好以前，你怎么能指望打伤别人呢？”
“丽贝卡，”他答道，“你不知道，一个用骑士精神培养出来的军人，当他周围的人都在从事荣誉的事业时，要他像一个教士或妇人那样袖手旁观，那是不可能的。对战斗的热爱是我们赖以生存的食物，战场的尘土是我们的鼻孔不可缺少的气息！除了取得胜利和荣誉以外，我们没有，也不希望有别的生活。姑娘，这便是我们立誓遵守的骑士精神的信条，我们必须为它们贡献我们的一切。”
“哎哟！”美丽的犹太姑娘说，“勇敢的骑士，这是什么，难道不是把自己的一生献给虚荣这个魔鬼，让自己的生命在战火中烧化，献给摩洛(注)吗？你的事业除了使你流尽鲜血，受尽辛劳和痛苦，流尽眼泪以外，还能给你什么呢？当死亡使坚强的战士的长矛折断，快速的战马倒毙时，它又能留给他什么呢？”
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(注)摩洛，《圣经》中提到的亚扣人的神，必须用烧死的儿童向他献祭，见《列王纪下》第23章。
“留给他什么？”艾文荷喊道。“荣誉，姑娘——荣誉！它可以给我们的坟墓增添光彩，让我们的名字永垂不朽。”
“荣誉！”丽贝卡继续道。“唉！难道把生锈的盔甲像纹章一样，挂在勇士凄凉萧条的坟前，难道那磨损的碑文，连无知的修士在询问的旅人面前，也无从念诵的碑文，便是给你们的报答吗？难道牺牲一切美好的感情，给自己的一生，也给别人的一生制造悲痛，便是为了这些吗？再说，难道一个流浪歌手的粗俗诗句真的这么宝贵，值得一个人为了它们把温暖的天伦之乐，真挚的家庭感情，以及和睦幸福的生活，统统弃置不顾吗？难道人生的目的只是要成为那些歌谣中的英雄，好让漂泊各地的行吟诗人，在晚上唱给饮酒作乐的乡巴佬们听吗？”
“凭赫里沃德的英灵起誓！”骑士不耐烦地答道，“姑娘，你是在议论你根本不懂的事。你是要扼杀骑士精神的纯洁光辉，可是只有它才是区分高贵和低贱，区分文雅的骑士和粗俗野蛮的乡巴佬的标志；它把我们的荣誉看得比我们的生命更贵重干百倍，它使我们可以战胜痛苦、困难和折磨，它教导我们不怕邪恶，只怕失去荣誉。你不是基督徒，丽贝卡，你不能理解这些高尚的感情；当一个人出生入死赢得他的荣誉时，只有他尊贵的情人才能理解他，鼓励他如火如茶的热情。骑士精神！是的，姑娘，它是纯洁高尚的感情的保姆，受压迫者的救星，为人伸冤雪恨的使者，专制暴力的拦路石。丧失了它，贵族只是徒有虚名，自由也只有在它的长枪和刀剑的保护下才能生存。”
“我出生的民族在保卫自己的国土中，确实也有过英勇的表现，”丽贝卡说，“但是哪怕在它还作为一个完整的国家存在时，除了遵照上帝的命令，或者从压迫下保卫祖国以外，它不想打仗。现在军号声已不能唤醒犹太王国的后代(注1)，它的儿女遭到了凌辱，成了仇恨和军事镇压的牺牲品。骑士先生，你说得很对，在雅各的上帝为他的选民派来第二个基甸(注2)，或者新的马加比(注3)以前，一个犹太姑娘已不配谈论战争或荣誉了。”
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(注1)犹太王国于公元前586年被巴比伦王尼布甲尼撒灭亡，从此犹太人便失去了国家。
(注2)基甸，《旧约全书》中提到的以色列人的士师，曾领导以色列人反抗外族侵犯，见《士师记》。
(注3)马加比，犹太王国灭亡后，领导犹太人反抗外族压迫的军事领袖。
谈到最后，这个品格高尚的姑娘用伤感的声调这么说，这表明她深深意识到了她的民族的屈辱地位，也许，艾文荷的观点也使她感到委屈，因为他认为她不配在荣誉问题上发表意见，也不可能对荣誉或慷慨怀有高尚的感情。
“他多么不了解我的内心，”她自言自语道，“我批评了拿撒勒人充满幻想的骑士精神，他便认为我心中有的只是懦弱或卑贱！其实，只要能从屈辱中挽救犹太人的后代，哪怕我的血一滴一滴地流掉，流干，我也心甘情愿！是的，只要上帝能使我的父亲，还有他的这个恩人，从压迫者的锁链下获得自由，我什么都可以牺牲！到那时，这个骄傲的基督徒才会看到，上帝的选民的这个女儿是不是怕死，是不是也像那个拿撒勒少女一样勇敢，尽管我不像她那么自命不凡，自诩是粗野冰冻的北方某个小酋长的后裔！”
接着她向负伤的骑士的卧榻看了一眼。
“他睡着了，”她说，“折磨和精力的消耗己弄得他疲乏不堪，暂时的松弛一出现便使他沉入睡乡了。哎呀！我这么看他，尽管这可能已是最后一次，这是罪恶吗？瞧，即使在睡眠中，那种英勇而轻快的情绪也没有离开他的脸，可是再过一会儿，它们也许就再也不会出现在这美好的容貌上了！他的鼻孔会变得肿胀，嘴巴会张开，眼睛会呆滞充血，这个该死的城堡内最卑贱的奴仆，也可以用脚踩踏这个骄傲高贵的骑士，举起脚跟踢他，他却不再动弹！还有我的父亲！——啊，我的父亲！你的女儿真是罪孽深重，为了年轻人的金黄鬈发，忘记了你的苍苍白发！我是个丧失天良的孩子，把囚禁的外族人看得比父亲更重，也许我的罪过正是耶和华的愤怒降临在我身上的表现吧？我忘记了犹太民族的灾难，却把目光注视在一个外邦人和异族人的秀丽面容上！我一定得把这种愚蠢的念头从我心中赶走，哪怕这会使我的每一条神经都感到不能忍受！”
她用面纱紧紧蒙住了脸，在远离病榻的地方坐了下去，背对着它，下定决心，或者努力下定决心，不仅要对抗威胁她的罪恶从外面袭击她，也要抵制邪恶的感情从内部侵蚀她。