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."
"Nay," said the Knight, "an he have the gift of showing my road, I shall not grumble with him that he desires to make it pleasant. ---Fare thee well, kind Wilfred---I charge thee not to attempt to travel till to-morrow at earliest."
So saying, he extended his hand to Ivanhoe, who pressed it to his lips, took leave of the Prior, mounted his horse, and departed, with Wamba for his companion. Ivanhoe followed them with his eyes, until they were lost in the shades of the surrounding forest, and then returned into the convent.
But shortly after matin-song, he requested to see the Prior. The old man came in haste, and enquired anxiously after the state of his health.
"It is better," he said, "than my fondest hope could have anticipated; either my wound has been slighter than the effusion of blood led me to suppose, or this balsam hath wrought a wonderful cure upon it. I feel already as if I could bear my corslet; and so much the better, for thoughts pass in my mind which render me unwilling to remain here longer in inactivity."
"Now, the saints forbid," said the Prior, "that the son of the Saxon Cedric should leave our convent ere his wounds were healed! It were shame to our profession were we to suffer it."
"Nor would I desire to leave your hospitable roof, venerable father," said Ivanhoe, "did I not feel myself able to endure the journey, and compelled to undertake it."
"And what can have urged you to so sudden a departure?" said the Prior.
"Have you never, holy father," answered the Knight, "felt an apprehension of approaching evil, for which you in vain attempted to assign a cause?---Have you never found your mind darkened, like the sunny landscape, by the sudden cloud, which augurs a coming tempest?---And thinkest thou not that such impulses are deserving of attention, as being the hints of our guardian spirits, that danger is impending?"
"I may not deny," said the Prior, crossing himself, "that such things have been, and have been of Heaven; but then such communications have had a visibly useful scope and tendency. But thou, wounded as thou art, what avails it thou shouldst follow the steps of him whom thou couldst not aid, were he to be assaulted?"
"Prior," said Ivanhoe, "thou dost mistake---I am stout enough to exchange buffets with any who will challenge me to such a traffic ---But were it otherwise, may I not aid him were he in danger, by other means than by force of arms? It is but too well known that the Saxons love not the Norman race, and who knows what may be the issue, if he break in upon them when their hearts are irritated by the death of Athelstane, and their heads heated by the carousal in which they will indulge themselves? I hold his entrance among them at such a moment most perilous, and I am resolved to share or avert the danger; which, that I may the better do, I would crave of thee the use of some palfrey whose pace may be softer than that of my 'destrier'."*
* "Destrier"---war-horse.
"Surely," said the worthy churchman; "you shall have mine own ambling jennet, and I would it ambled as easy for your sake as that of the Abbot of Saint Albans. Yet this will I say for Malkin, for so I call her, that unless you were to borrow a ride on the juggler's steed that paces a hornpipe amongst the eggs, you could not go a journey on a creature so gentle and smooth-paced. I have composed many a homily on her back, to the edification of my brethren of the convent, and many poor Christian souls."
"I pray you, reverend father," said Ivanhoe, "let Malkin be got ready instantly, and bid Gurth attend me with mine arms."
"Nay, but fair sir," said the Prior, "I pray you to remember that Malkin hath as little skill in arms as her master, and that I warrant not her enduring the sight or weight of your full panoply. O, Malkin, I promise you, is a beast of judgment, and will contend against any undue weight---I did but borrow the 'Fructus Temporum' from the priest of Saint Bees, and I promise you she would not stir from the gate until I had exchanged the huge volume for my little breviary."
"Trust me, holy father," said Ivanhoe, "I will not distress her with too much weight; and if she calls a combat with me, it is odds but she has the worst."
This reply was made while Gurth was buckling on the Knight's heels a pair of large gilded spurs, capable of convincing any restive horse that his best safety lay in being conformable to the will of his rider.
The deep and sharp rowels with which Ivanhoe's heels were now armed, began to make the worthy Prior repent of his courtesy, and ejaculate,---"Nay, but fair sir, now I bethink me, my Malkin abideth not the spur---Better it were that you tarry for the mare of our manciple down at the Grange, which may be had in little more than an hour, and cannot but be tractable, in respect that she draweth much of our winter fire-wood, and eateth no corn."
"I thank you, reverend father, but will abide by your first offer, as I see Malkin is already led forth to the gate. Gurth shall carry mine armour; and for the rest, rely on it, that as I will not overload Malkin's back, she shall not overcome my patience. And now, farewell!"
Ivanhoe now descended the stairs more hastily and easily than his wound promised, and threw himself upon the jennet, eager to escape the importunity of the Prior, who stuck as closely to his side as his age and fatness would permit, now singing the praises of Malkin, now recommending caution to the Knight in managing her.
"She is at the most dangerous period for maidens as well as mares," said the old man, laughing at his own jest, "being barely in her fifteenth year."
Ivanhoe, who had other web to weave than to stand canvassing a palfrey's paces with its owner, lent but a deaf ear to the Prior's grave advices and facetious jests, and having leapt on his mare, and commanded his squire (for such Gurth now called himself) to keep close by his side, he followed the track of the Black Knight into the forest, while the Prior stood at the gate of the convent looking after him, and ejaculating,---"Saint Mary! how prompt and fiery be these men of war! I would I had not trusted Malkin to his keeping, for, crippled as I am with the cold rheum, I am undone if aught but good befalls her. And yet," said he, recollecting himself, "as I would not spare my own old and disabled limbs in the good cause of Old England, so Malkin must e'en run her hazard on the same venture; and it may be they will think our poor house worthy of some munificent guerdon---or, it may be, they will send the old Prior a pacing nag. And if they do none of these, as great men will forget little men's service, truly I shall hold me well repaid in having done that which is right. And it is now well-nigh the fitting time to summon the brethren to breakfast in the refectory---Ah! I doubt they obey that call more cheerily than the bells for primes and matins."
So the Prior of Saint Botolph's hobbled back again into the refectory, to preside over the stockfish and ale, which was just serving out for the friars' breakfast. Busy and important, he sat him down at the table, and many a dark word he threw out, of benefits to be expected to the convent, and high deeds of service done by himself, which, at another season, would have attracted observation. But as the stockfish was highly salted, and the ale reasonably powerful, the jaws of the brethren were too anxiously employed to admit of their making much use of their ears; nor do we read of any of the fraternity, who was tempted to speculate upon the mysterious hints of their Superior, except Father Diggory, who was severely afflicted by the toothache, so that he could only eat on one side of his jaws.
In the meantime, the Black Champion and his guide were pacing at their leisure through the recesses of the forest; the good Knight whiles humming to himself the lay of some enamoured troubadour, sometimes encouraging by questions the prating disposition of his attendant, so that their dialogue formed a whimsical mixture of song and jest, of which we would fain give our readers some idea. You are then to imagine this Knight, such as we have already described him, strong of person, tall, broad-shouldered, and large of bone, mounted on his mighty black charger, which seemed made on purpose to bear his weight, so easily he paced forward under it, having the visor of his helmet raised, in order to admit freedom of breath, yet keeping the beaver, or under part, closed, so that his features could be but imperfectly distinguished. But his ruddy embrowned cheek-bones could be plainly seen, and the large and bright blue eyes, that flashed from under the dark shade of the raised visor; and the whole gesture and look of the champion expressed careless gaiety and fearless confidence---a mind which was unapt to apprehend danger, and prompt to defy it when most imminent---yet with whom danger was a familiar thought, as with one whose trade was war and adventure.
The Jester wore his usual fantastic habit, but late accidents had led him to adopt a good cutting falchion, instead of his wooden sword, with a targe to match it; of both which weapons he had, notwithstanding his profession, shown himself a skilful master during the storming of Torquilstone. Indeed, the infirmity of Wamba's brain consisted chiefly in a kind of impatient irritability, which suffered him not long to remain quiet in any posture, or adhere to any certain train of ideas, although he was for a few minutes alert enough in performing any immediate task, or in apprehending any immediate topic. On horseback, therefore, he was perpetually swinging himself backwards and forwards, now on the horse's ears, then anon on the very rump of the animal, ---now hanging both his legs on one side, and now sitting with his face to the tail, moping, mowing, and making a thousand apish gestures, until his palfrey took his freaks so much to heart, as fairly to lay him at his length on the green grass---an incident which greatly amused the Knight, but compelled his companion to ride more steadily thereafter.
At the point of their journey at which we take them up, this joyous pair were engaged in singing a virelai, as it was called, in which the clown bore a mellow burden, to the better instructed Knight of the Fetterlock. And thus run the ditty:---
Anna-Marie, love, up is the sun, Anna-Marie, love, morn is begun, Mists are dispersing, love, birds singing free, Up in the morning, love, Anna-Marie. Anna-Marie, love, up in the morn, The hunter is winding blithe sounds on his horn, The echo rings merry from rock and from tree, 'Tis time to arouse thee, love, Anna-Marie.
Wamba.
O Tybalt, love, Tybalt, awake me not yet, Around my soft pillow while softer dreams flit, For what are the joys that in waking we prove, Compared with these visions, O, Tybalt, my love? Let the birds to the rise of the mist carol shrill, Let the hunter blow out his loud horn on the hill, Softer sounds, softer pleasures, in slumber I prove,--- But think not I dreamt of thee, Tybalt, my love.
"A dainty song," said Wamba, when they had finished their carol, "and I swear by my bauble, a pretty moral!---I used to sing it with Gurth, once my playfellow, and now, by the grace of God and his master, no less than a freemen; and we once came by the cudgel for being so entranced by the melody, that we lay in bed two hours after sunrise, singing the ditty betwixt sleeping and waking---my bones ache at thinking of the tune ever since. Nevertheless, I have played the part of Anna-Marie, to please you, fair sir."
The Jester next struck into another carol, a sort of comic ditty, to which the Knight, catching up the tune, replied in the like manner.
Knight and Wamba.
There came three merry men from south, west, and north, Ever more sing the roundelay; To win the Widow of Wycombe forth, And where was the widow might say them nay?
The first was a knight, and from Tynedale he came, Ever more sing the roundelay; And his fathers, God save us, were men of great fame, And where was the widow might say him nay?
Of his father the laird, of his uncle the squire, He boasted in rhyme and in roundelay; She bade him go bask by his sea-coal fire, For she was the widow would say him nay.
Wamba.
The next that came forth, swore by blood and by nails, Merrily sing the roundelay; Hur's a gentleman, God wot, and hur's lineage was of Wales, And where was the widow might say him nay?
Sir David ap Morgan ap Griffith ap Hugh Ap Tudor ap Rhice, quoth his roundelay She said that one widow for so many was too few, And she bade the Welshman wend his way.
But then next came a yeoman, a yeoman of Kent, Jollily singing his roundelay; He spoke to the widow of living and rent, And where was the widow could say him nay?
Both.
So the knight and the squire were both left in the mire, There for to sing their roundelay; For a yeoman of Kent, with his yearly rent, There never was a widow could say him nay.
"I would, Wamba," said the knight, "that our host of the Trysting-tree, or the jolly Friar, his chaplain, heard this thy ditty in praise of our bluff yeoman."
"So would not I," said Wamba---"but for the horn that hangs at your baldric."
"Ay," said the Knight,---"this is a pledge of Locksley's goodwill, though I am not like to need it. Three mots on this bugle will, I am assured, bring round, at our need, a jolly band of yonder honest yeomen."
"I would say, Heaven forefend," said the Jester, "were it not that that fair gift is a pledge they would let us pass peaceably."
"Why, what meanest thou?" said the Knight; "thinkest thou that but for this pledge of fellowship they would assault us?"
"Nay, for me I say nothing," said Wamba; "for green trees have ears as well as stone walls. But canst thou construe me this, Sir Knight---When is thy wine-pitcher and thy purse better empty than full?"
"Why, never, I think," replied the Knight.
"Thou never deservest to have a full one in thy hand, for so simple an answer! Thou hadst best empty thy pitcher ere thou pass it to a Saxon, and leave thy money at home ere thou walk in the greenwood."
"You hold our friends for robbers, then?" said the Knight of the Fetterlock.
"You hear me not say so, fair sir," said Wamba; "it may relieve a man's steed to take of his mail when he hath a long journey to make; and, certes, it may do good to the rider's soul to ease him of that which is the root of evil; therefore will I give no hard names to those who do such services. Only I would wish my mail at home, and my purse in my chamber, when I meet with these good fellows, because it might save them some trouble."
"WE are bound to pray for them, my friend, notwithstanding the fair character thou dost afford them."
"Pray for them with all my heart," said Wamba; "but in the town, not in the greenwood, like the Abbot of Saint Bees, whom they caused to say mass with an old hollow oak-tree for his stall."
"Say as thou list, Wamba," replied the Knight, "these yeomen did thy master Cedric yeomanly service at Torquilstone."
"Ay, truly," answered Wamba; "but that was in the fashion of their trade with Heaven."
"Their trade, Wamba! how mean you by that?" replied his companion.
"Marry, thus," said the Jester. "They make up a balanced account with Heaven, as our old cellarer used to call his ciphering, as fair as Isaac the Jew keeps with his debtors, and, like him, give out a very little, and take large credit for doing so; reckoning, doubtless, on their own behalf the seven-fold usury which the blessed text hath promised to charitable loans."
"Give me an example of your meaning, Wamba,---I know nothing of ciphers or rates of usage," answered the Knight.
"Why," said Wamba, "an your valour be so dull, you will please to learn that those honest fellows balance a good deed with one not quite so laudable; as a crown given to a begging friar with an hundred byzants taken from a fat abbot, or a wench kissed in the greenwood with the relief of a poor widow."
"Which of these was the good deed, which was the felony?" interrupted the Knight.
"A good gibe! a good gibe!" said Wamba; "keeping witty company sharpeneth the apprehension. You said nothing so well, Sir Knight, I will be sworn, when you held drunken vespers with the bluff Hermit.---But to go on. The merry-men of the forest set off the building of a cottage with the burning of a castle,---the thatching of a choir against the robbing of a church,---the setting free a poor prisoner against the murder of a proud sheriff; or, to come nearer to our point, the deliverance of a Saxon franklin against the burning alive of a Norman baron. Gentle thieves they are, in short, and courteous robbers; but it is ever the luckiest to meet with them when they are at the worst."
"How so, Wamba?" said the Knight.
"Why, then they have some compunction, and are for making up matters with Heaven. But when they have struck an even balance, Heaven help them with whom they next open the account! The travellers who first met them after their good service at Torquilstone would have a woeful flaying.---And yet," said Wamba, coming close up to the Knight's side, "there be companions who are far more dangerous for travellers to meet than yonder outlaws."
"And who may they be, for you have neither bears nor wolves, I trow?" said the Knight.
"Marry, sir, but we have Malvoisin's men-at-arms," said Wamba; "and let me tell you, that, in time of civil war, a halfscore of these is worth a band of wolves at any time. They are now expecting their harvest, and are reinforced with the soldiers that escaped from Torquilstone. So that, should we meet with a band of them, we are like to pay for our feats of arms.---Now, I pray you, Sir Knight, what would you do if we met two of them?"
"Pin the villains to the earth with my lance, Wamba, if they offered us any impediment."
"But what if there were four of them?"
"They should drink of the same cup," answered the Knight.
"What if six," continued Wamba, "and we as we now are, barely two ---would you not remember Locksley's horn?"
"What! sound for aid," exclaimed the Knight, "against a score of such 'rascaille' as these, whom one good knight could drive before him, as the wind drives the withered leaves?"
"Nay, then," said Wamba, "I will pray you for a close sight of that same horn that hath so powerful a breath."
The Knight undid the clasp of the baldric, and indulged his fellow-traveller, who immediately hung the bugle round his own neck.
"Tra-lira-la," said he, whistling the notes; "nay, I know my gamut as well as another."
"How mean you, knave?" said the Knight; "restore me the bugle."
"Content you, Sir Knight, it is in safe keeping. When Valour and Folly travel, Folly should bear the horn, because she can blow the best."
"Nay but, rogue," said the Black Knight, "this exceedeth thy license---Beware ye tamper not with my patience."
"Urge me not with violence, Sir Knight," said the Jester, keeping at a distance from the impatient champion, "or Folly will show a clean pair of heels, and leave Valour to find out his way through the wood as best he may."
"Nay, thou hast hit me there," said the Knight; "and, sooth to say, I have little time to jangle with thee. Keep the horn an thou wilt, but let us proceed on our journey."
"You will not harm me, then?" said Wamba.
"I tell thee no, thou knave!"
"Ay, but pledge me your knightly word for it," continued Wamba, as he approached with great caution.
"My knightly word I pledge; only come on with thy foolish self."
"Nay, then, Valour and Folly are once more boon companions," said the Jester, coming up frankly to the Knight's side; "but, in truth, I love not such buffets as that you bestowed on the burly Friar, when his holiness rolled on the green like a king of the nine-pins. And now that Folly wears the horn, let Valour rouse himself, and shake his mane; for, if I mistake not, there are company in yonder brake that are on the look-out for us."
"What makes thee judge so?" said the Knight.
"Because I have twice or thrice noticed the glance of a motion from amongst the green leaves. Had they been honest men, they had kept the path. But yonder thicket is a choice chapel for the Clerks of Saint Nicholas."
"By my faith," said the Knight, closing his visor, "I think thou be'st in the right on't."
And in good time did he close it, for three arrows, flew at the same instant from the suspected spot against his head and breast, one of which would have penetrated to the brain, had it not been turned aside by the steel visor. The other two were averted by the gorget, and by the shield which hung around his neck.
"Thanks, trusty armourers," said the Knight.---"Wamba, let us close with them,"---and he rode straight to the thicket. He was met by six or seven men-at-arms, who ran against him with their lances at full career. Three of the weapons struck against him, and splintered with as little effect as if they had been driven against a tower of steel. The Black Knight's eyes seemed to flash fire even through the aperture of his visor. He raised himself in his stirrups with an air of inexpressible dignity, and exclaimed, "What means this, my masters!"---The men made no other reply than by drawing their swords and attacking him on every side, crying, "Die, tyrant!"
"Ha! Saint Edward! Ha! Saint George!" said the Black Knight, striking down a man at every invocation; "have we traitors here?"
His opponents, desperate as they were, bore back from an arm which carried death in every blow, and it seemed as if the terror of his single strength was about to gain the battle against such odds, when a knight, in blue armour, who had hitherto kept himself behind the other assailants, spurred forward with his lance, and taking aim, not at the rider but at the steed, wounded the noble animal mortally.
"That was a felon stroke!" exclaimed the Black Knight, as the steed fell to the earth, bearing his rider along with him.
And at this moment, Wamba winded the bugle, for the whole had passed so speedily, that he had not time to do so sooner. The sudden sound made the murderers bear back once more, and Wamba, though so imperfectly weaponed, did not hesitate to rush in and assist the Black Knight to rise.
"Shame on ye, false cowards!" exclaimed he in the blue harness, who seemed to lead the assailants, "do ye fly from the empty blast of a horn blown by a Jester?"
Animated by his words, they attacked the Black Knight anew, whose best refuge was now to place his back against an oak, and defend himself with his sword. The felon knight, who had taken another spear, watching the moment when his formidable antagonist was most closely pressed, galloped against him in hopes to nail him with his lance against the tree, when his purpose was again intercepted by Wamba. The Jester, making up by agility the want of strength, and little noticed by the men-at-arms, who were busied in their more important object, hovered on the skirts of the fight, and effectually checked the fatal career of the Blue Knight, by hamstringing his horse with a stroke of his sword. Horse and man went to the ground; yet the situation of the Knight of the Fetterlock continued very precarious, as he was pressed close by several men completely armed, and began to be fatigued by the violent exertions necessary to defend himself on so many points at nearly the same moment, when a grey-goose shaft suddenly stretched on the earth one of the most formidable of his assailants, and a band of yeomen broke forth from the glade, headed by Locksley and the jovial Friar, who, taking ready and effectual part in the fray, soon disposed of the ruffians, all of whom lay on the spot dead or mortally wounded. The Black Knight thanked his deliverers with a dignity they had not observed in his former bearing, which hitherto had seemed rather that of a blunt bold soldier, than of a person of exalted rank.
"It concerns me much," he said, "even before I express my full gratitude to my ready friends, to discover, if I may, who have been my unprovoked enemies.---Open the visor of that Blue Knight, Wamba, who seems the chief of these villains."
The Jester instantly made up to the leader of the assassins, who, bruised by his fall, and entangled under the wounded steed, lay incapable either of flight or resistance.
"Come, valiant sir," said Wamba, "I must be your armourer as well as your equerry---I have dismounted you, and now I will unhelm you."
So saying, with no very gentle hand he undid the helmet of the Blue Knight, which, rolling to a distance on the grass, displayed to the Knight of the Fetterlock grizzled locks, and a countenance he did not expect to have seen under such circumstances.
"Waldemar Fitzurse!" he said in astonishment; "what could urge one of thy rank and seeming worth to so foul an undertaking?"
"Richard," said the captive Knight, looking up to him, "thou knowest little of mankind, if thou knowest not to what ambition and revenge can lead every child of Adam."
"Revenge?" answered the Black Knight; "I never wronged thee---On me thou hast nought to revenge."
"My daughter, Richard, whose alliance thou didst scorn---was that no injury to a Norman, whose blood is noble as thine own?"
"Thy daughter?" replied the Black Knight; "a proper cause of enmity, and followed up to a bloody issue!---Stand back, my masters, I would speak to him alone.---And now, Waldemar Fitzurse, say me the truth---confess who set thee on this traitorous deed."
"Thy father's son," answered Waldemar, "who, in so doing, did but avenge on thee thy disobedience to thy father."
Richard's eyes sparkled with indignation, but his better nature overcame it. He pressed his hand against his brow, and remained an instant gazing on the face of the humbled baron, in whose features pride was contending with shame.
"Thou dost not ask thy life, Waldemar," said the King.
"He that is in the lion's clutch," answered Fitzurse, "knows it were needless."
"Take it, then, unasked," said Richard; "the lion preys not on prostrate carcasses.---Take thy life, but with this condition, that in three days thou shalt leave England, and go to hide thine infamy in thy Norman castle, and that thou wilt never mention the name of John of Anjou as connected with thy felony. If thou art found on English ground after the space I have allotted thee, thou diest---or if thou breathest aught that can attaint the honour of my house, by Saint George! not the altar itself shall be a sanctuary. I will hang thee out to feed the ravens, from the very pinnacle of thine own castle.---Let this knight have a steed, Locksley, for I see your yeomen have caught those which were running loose, and let him depart unharmed."
"But that I judge I listen to a voice whose behests must not be disputed," answered the yeoman, "I would send a shaft after the skulking villain that should spare him the labour of a long journey."
"Thou bearest an English heart, Locksley," said the Black Knight, "and well dost judge thou art the more bound to obey my behest ---I am Richard of England!"
At these words, pronounced in a tone of majesty suited to the high rank, and no less distinguished character of Coeur-de-Lion, the yeomen at once kneeled down before him, and at the same time tendered their allegiance, and implored pardon for their offences.
"Rise, my friends," said Richard, in a gracious tone, looking on them with a countenance in which his habitual good-humour had already conquered the blaze of hasty resentment, and whose features retained no mark of the late desperate conflict, excepting the flush arising from exertion,---"Arise," he said, "my friends!---Your misdemeanours, whether in forest or field, have been atoned by the loyal services you rendered my distressed subjects before the walls of Torquilstone, and the rescue you have this day afforded to your sovereign. Arise, my liegemen, and be good subjects in future.---And thou, brave Locksley---"
"Call me no longer Locksley, my Liege, but know me under the name, which, I fear, fame hath blown too widely not to have reached even your royal ears---I am Robin Hood of Sherwood Forest."*
* From the ballads of Robin Hood, we learn that this * celebrated outlaw, when in disguise, sometimes assumed * the name of Locksley, from a village where he was born, * but where situated we are not distinctly told.
"King of Outlaws, and Prince of good fellows!" said the King, "who hath not heard a name that has been borne as far as Palestine? But be assured, brave Outlaw, that no deed done in our absence, and in the turbulent times to which it hath given rise, shall be remembered to thy disadvantage."
"True says the proverb," said Wamba, interposing his word, but with some abatement of his usual petulance,---
"'When the cat is away, The mice will play.'"
"What, Wamba, art thou there?" said Richard; "I have been so long of hearing thy voice, I thought thou hadst taken flight."
"I take flight!" said Wamba; "when do you ever find Folly separated from Valour? There lies the trophy of my sword, that good grey gelding, whom I heartily wish upon his legs again, conditioning his master lay there houghed in his place. It is true, I gave a little ground at first, for a motley jacket does not brook lance-heads, as a steel doublet will. But if I fought not at sword's point, you will grant me that I sounded the onset."
"And to good purpose, honest Wamba," replied the King. "Thy good service shall not be forgotten."
"'Confiteor! Confiteor!'"---exclaimed, in a submissive tone, a voice near the King's side---"my Latin will carry me no farther ---but I confess my deadly treason, and pray leave to have absolution before I am led to execution!"
Richard looked around, and beheld the jovial Friar on his knees, telling his rosary, while his quarter-staff, which had not been idle during the skirmish, lay on the grass beside him. His countenance was gathered so as he thought might best express the most profound contrition, his eyes being turned up, and the corners of his mouth drawn down, as Wamba expressed it, like the tassels at the mouth of a purse. Yet this demure affectation of extreme penitence was whimsically belied by a ludicrous meaning which lurked in his huge features, and seemed to pronounce his fear and repentance alike hypocritical.
"For what art thou cast down, mad Priest?" said Richard; "art thou afraid thy diocesan should learn how truly thou dost serve Our Lady and Saint Dunstan?---Tush, man! fear it not; Richard of England betrays no secrets that pass over the flagon."
"Nay, most gracious sovereign," answered the Hermit, (well known to the curious in penny-histories of Robin Hood, by the name of Friar Tuck,) "it is not the crosier I fear, but the sceptre. ---Alas! that my sacrilegious fist should ever have been applied to the ear of the Lord's anointed!"
"Ha! ha!" said Richard, "sits the wind there?---In truth I had forgotten the buffet, though mine ear sung after it for a whole day. But if the cuff was fairly given, I will be judged by the good men around, if it was not as well repaid---or, if thou thinkest I still owe thee aught, and will stand forth for another counterbuff---"
"By no means," replied Friar Tuck, "I had mine own returned, and with usury---may your Majesty ever pay your debts as fully!"
"If I could do so with cuffs," said the King, "my creditors should have little reason to complain of an empty exchequer."
"And yet," said the Friar, resuming his demure hypocritical countenance, "I know not what penance I ought to perform for that most sacrilegious blow!------"
"Speak no more of it, brother," said the King; "after having stood so many cuffs from Paynims and misbelievers, I were void of reason to quarrel with the buffet of a clerk so holy as he of Copmanhurst. Yet, mine honest Friar, I think it would be best both for the church and thyself, that I should procure a license to unfrock thee, and retain thee as a yeoman of our guard, serving in care of our person, as formerly in attendance upon the altar of Saint Dunstan."
"My Liege," said the Friar, "I humbly crave your pardon; and you would readily grant my excuse, did you but know how the sin of laziness has beset me. Saint Dunstan---may he be gracious to us! ---stands quiet in his niche, though I should forget my orisons in killing a fat buck---I stay out of my cell sometimes a night, doing I wot not what---Saint Dunstan never complains---a quiet master he is, and a peaceful, as ever was made of wood.---But to be a yeoman in attendance on my sovereign the King---the honour is great, doubtless---yet, if I were but to step aside to comfort a widow in one corner, or to kill a deer in another, it would be, 'where is the dog Priest?' says one. 'Who has seen the accursed Tuck?' says another. 'The unfrocked villain destroys more venison than half the country besides,' says one keeper; 'And is hunting after every shy doe in the country!' quoth a second. ---In fine, good my Liege, I pray you to leave me as you found me; or, if in aught you desire to extend your benevolence to me, that I may be considered as the poor Clerk of Saint Dunstan's cell in Copmanhurst, to whom any small donation will be most thankfully acceptable."
"I understand thee," said the King, "and the Holy Clerk shall have a grant of vert and venison in my woods of Warncliffe. Mark, however, I will but assign thee three bucks every season; but if that do not prove an apology for thy slaying thirty, I am no Christian knight nor true king."
"Your Grace may be well assured," said the Friar, "that, with the grace of Saint Dunstan, I shall find the way of multiplying your most bounteous gift."
"I nothing doubt it, good brother," said the King; "and as venison is but dry food, our cellarer shall have orders to deliver to thee a butt of sack, a runlet of Malvoisie, and three hogsheads of ale of the first strike, yearly---If that will not quench thy thirst, thou must come to court, and become acquainted with my butler."
"But for Saint Dunstan?" said the Friar---
"A cope, a stole, and an altar-cloth shalt thou also have," continued the King, crossing himself---"But we may not turn our game into earnest, lest God punish us for thinking more on our follies than on his honour and worship."
"I will answer for my patron," said the Priest, joyously.
"Answer for thyself, Friar," said King Richard, something sternly; but immediately stretching out his hand to the Hermit, the latter, somewhat abashed, bent his knee, and saluted it. "Thou dost less honour to my extended palm than to my clenched fist," said the Monarch; "thou didst only kneel to the one, and to the other didst prostrate thyself."
But the Friar, afraid perhaps of again giving offence by continuing the conversation in too jocose a style---a false step to be particularly guarded against by those who converse with monarchs--- bowed profoundly, and fell into the rear.
At the same time, two additional personages appeared on the scene.
《理查三世》(注)
--------
(注)莎士比亚的历史剧，这里的引文应在该剧第五幕第三场，但现在通行的《理查三世》的版本没有这句话，司各特可能摘自其他的版本。
现在必须回头来谈谈黑甲骑士了，他离开绿林好汉们的约会树以后，便直奔附近的一家修道院，它规模不大，收益也不多，名叫圣博多尔夫隐修所；托奎尔斯通城堡陷落后，受伤的艾文荷便在忠实的葛四和无私的汪八护送下，转移到了那儿。至于在这段时间里，艾文荷和他的营救者之间的事，现在不必再提了；我们只想交代一下，经过长时间的严肃交谈之后，他们请隐修所长者往各地派出了一些使者，到第二天早上，黑甲骑士便准备踏上旅途，并由小丑汪八作他的向导，随他一起出发。
“我们可以在故世的阿特尔斯坦的城堡科宁斯堡碰头，”他对艾文荷说。“你的父亲塞德里克要在那儿为他高贵的亲戚举办丧宴，我想趁此机会多认识一些你们的撒克逊亲族，威尔弗莱德骑士，增进一些彼此的了解。我与你便在那儿见面，我也有义务为你和你的父亲调停一下呢。”
他向艾文荷告别时这么说，艾文荷则表示希望与他的营救者一起走，但黑甲骑士怎么也不同意。
“今天你得休息，明天你的身体也未必可以赶路。我只要正直的汪八给我带路就成，他既能当教士，又能当小丑，对我说来再合适不过了。”
“我会全心全意侍候您的，”汪八说。“我很想看看阿特尔斯坦丧礼上的酒席办得怎么样，要是不够丰盛的话，他准得爬起来，把厨师、管家和斟酒人臭骂一顿，这是很值得一看的。我一向信任您的勇气，骑士老爷，万一我的俏皮话砸了锅，我知道，您一定会在塞德里克东家面前替我说情的。”
“你的机智无能为力的时候，小丑先生，我这一点勇气能管什么用？你倒给我解释解释。”
“机智可以做的事不少，骑士老爷，”小丑答道。“这是一个会鉴貌辨色的机灵鬼，能看到别人的弱点，在别人大发脾气的时候，又懂得怎么钻进避风港。但勇气是坚强不屈的硬汉子，善于披荆斩棘，开拓道路。他不怕风浪，敢于逆风驶船。因此，骑士老爷，在我的主人心平气和的时候，我可以利用风平浪静的气候取得他的欢心，可是气候一旦变坏，我就得仰仗您老出马转圜了。”
“镣铐骑士阁下——既然您喜欢这个名称，我就这么称呼您啦，”艾文荷说，“我是担心您恐怕挑选了一个多嘴的、爱惹麻烦的傻瓜作您的向导。不过他熟悉森林中的每一条大路和小路，就像经常在那儿出没的猎人一样；而且您大概也已看到，这个可怜的傻瓜是像钢铁一样可靠的。”
“没什么，”骑士说，“只要他有本领给我带路，他要说笑逗趣，我不会跟他怄气。再见吧，亲爱的威尔弗莱德；我要求你休息，最早也得到明天才动身。”
这么说着，他把手伸给艾文荷，让他举到唇边吻了它，便辞别隐修所长老，跨上马背，带着他的伴当汪八走了。艾文荷目送着他们，直到他们消失在周围的树林深处，才返回隐修所。
但是早祷刚过不久，他便要求面见长老。长老赶紧来了，担心地询问他的健康状况。
“很好，”他说，“比我最乐观的估计更好，可能我的伤势本来不重，只是流血多了些，我才以为它很重，也可能这药膏对它发生了神奇的效果。现在我已经觉得好像可以穿盔甲了；这简直太好了，因为有些事实在叫我不能放心，我考虑再三，还是得走。”
“听着，这是圣徒也不能答应的，”长老说，“撒克逊人塞德里克的儿子在伤势痊愈以前，便离开我们的隐修所！如果我不加劝阻，这简直是玩忽职守。”
“我也不愿离开你好客的修院，尊敬的长老，”艾文荷答道，“只是我觉得我已经得起长途跋涉了，而且我有急事要办，不能不马上动身。”
“你有什么急事，非马上动身不可？”长老说。
“长老，你有没有过一种感觉，好像有一件祸事即将来临，可是又说不清这是什么原因？有时你会不会觉得心上出现了一层阴影，仿佛阳光普照的大地上空，突然飘过了一朵乌云，预示着暴风雨的到来？我觉得这种心情是值得注意的，似乎我们的守护神在提醒我们，要防备危险的出现，难道你不认为这样吗？”
“我不否认有这种情形，”长老说，在胸前划了个十字，“这是上天的示警；但是它的出现总含有明显实际的意图和倾向。何况你受了这样的伤，即使你跟踪在你要帮助的人后面，在他遇到袭击的时候，你又怎能救他呢？”
“长老，”艾文荷说，“你估计错了，我已相当强壮，足以对付任何敢于向我挑衅的人。而且即使不是这样，要是他碰到了危险，难道我除了使用武力，就没有别的办法帮助他吗？大家都很清楚，撒克逊人不喜欢诺曼人，如果他闯进他们中间，这些人正由于阿特尔斯坦的死，心中火气很大，又在丧宴上喝足了酒，头脑发热的时候，谁知道他们会干出什么事来？我总觉得，他在这个时候跑到他们中间去，特别危险，我必须分担或者防止这危险；为了更好地完成这任务，我要求你借一匹马给我，它必须温驯一些，比我的战马跑得平稳一些的才成。”
“这当然可以，”忠厚的长老答道，“你可以把我自己那匹专爱溜花蹄的西班牙小马骑去，但愿它像圣奥尔本修道院长老的马一样，让你骑得舒舒服服的。关于马尔金——这是它的名字——我还得说，除非你能借到一匹杂耍艺人调教过的马，那种能够合着号笛在鸡蛋中间走路的马，你再也找不到比它更温驯、更平稳的坐骑了。我有不少布道文是骑在它的背上打腹稿的，它们对我的隐修所弟兄，还有许多不幸的基督徒的心灵，都发生过很好的教诲作用呢。”
“尊敬的神父，”艾文荷说，“请你让马尔金立刻作好准备，还命令葛四拿着我的武器跟我一起上路。”
“不过，我的老弟啊，”长老说，“你得记住，马尔金可是跟它的主人一样，对打仗一窍不通的，我不能保证，它对你那身盔甲和它的重量会毫不在乎。哦，说真的，马尔金是有头脑的牲口，对任何过重的负担，它不会逆来顺受。有一次我向圣比斯修道院的神父借了一部《知识大全》，它见了，硬是站在大门口一步也不肯挪动，直到我把这一大部书换成了我的小祈祷书，它才动身。”
“请放心，神父，”艾文荷说，“我不会让它负担太重的；不过，如果它跟我闹别扭，大约它是非吃亏不可的。”
他作出这回答时，葛四正在他的后跟上扣紧一对镀金大踢马刺，它们足以让任何不安分的马相信，只有一切顺从它的骑士的意愿，才是最安全的办法。
踢马刺上的齿轮又长又尖，艾文荷的后跟现在装上了这武器，那位忠厚的长老不禁为自己的好意后悔莫及，赶紧喊道：“哦，且慢，我的好老弟，我想起来了，我的马尔金是受不了踢马刺的。你还是稍等一下好，我让人把我们管事那匹母马从田庄上给你送来，那不过一个多钟头的事，它听话，冬天给我们运柴火，要它拉多重就多重，又不用吃小麦。”
“多谢你啦，尊敬的神父，不过还是维持原来的安排好，因为我看到，马尔金已给牵到大门口了。葛四会给我背盔甲，至于其他，你只管放心，我不会压坏马尔金的背脊，它也不会跟我闹别扭的。现在，再见！”
于是艾文荷不顾伤势，飞快地跑下台阶，奔向那匹西班牙小马，想尽快摆脱长老的纠缠，免得他拖着衰老肥胖的身子，尽量紧跟在他旁边，一会儿为马尔金唱赞歌，一会儿提醒骑士千万小心，别让马受到伤害。
“它跟小姑娘一样，正处在最需要关心的时期哪，”老人说，为自己的打趣哈哈直笑，“它还不足十五岁呢。”
可是艾文荷一心在盘算别的事，没有工夫跟长者讨论马的步子，对他郑重其事的告戒和诙谐的说笑也没有听到，一下子跳上了马背，吩咐他的扈从（葛四现在便这么称呼自己）紧紧跟着，随即沿着黑甲骑士的路线，跑进了森林。长老只得站在隐修所门口，望着他离开，一边叹气：“圣马利亚啊！这些当兵的这么性急，这么毛躁！我真后悔，不该把马尔金借给他；我得了风湿病，行走不便，要是它有个好歹，我怎么办。不过，”他又静下心来，说道，“我为了古老英国的正义事业，连这把老骨头也不顾，那么马尔金为这件大事冒些危险，也是应该的。也许到论功行赏的时候，他们会想到我们这个穷苦的隐修所，重重犒赏我们也说不定，或者送给它的长老一匹驯良的小马。不过他们也可能什么也不给，因为大人物对小人物做的事，总是容易忘记的，那也不要紧，既然我做的事是正确的，我就应该认为我已得到了报偿。现在时间差不多了，该召集弟兄们到膳堂用早餐了。唉！我总觉得他们听到用膳的叫唤声，总比听到晨祷和早课的钟声起劲一些。”
于是圣博多尔夫隐修所的长老，一拐一拐地走回膳堂，主持修士们的早餐了。这时鳕鱼干和淡啤酒刚端上桌子，他气喘吁吁、庄严肃穆地坐到了自己的位置上，然后讲了许多隐晦的话，似乎这个隐修所可望得到一大笔赏金，他本人也完成了一件不朽的功绩；这些话在别的时候自然会引起修士们的兴趣，但现在鳕鱼干太咸了，淡啤酒又太浓了，大家正全力运用他们的嘴巴，就不容他们过多地运用他们的耳朵了；何况据我们所知，这些修士中也没有任何人想推敲长老那种模棱两可的暗示，要说有，除非是迪戈利神父，因为他当时正牙痛得厉害，只能用一边的牙床吃东西。
就在这时，黑甲骑士带着他的向导，正悠闲自在地穿过森林中那些幽静的小径；骑士一边走，一边哼着吟游诗人的情歌，有时跟他的随从搭讪几句，免得他那张饶舌的嘴巴闲得无聊；因此他们的对话别开生面，成了歌声和笑话的混合物，关于这情形，我们很想让读者知道一个大概。各位不妨设想一下这位骑士，他的样子是我们已描写过的：他身强力壮，体格魁梧，肩膀宽阔，真称得上虎背熊腰，他的坐骑又是一匹高大的黑色战马，似乎是上帝专门为他的体重创造的，因此载着他行走时仍显得从容不迫。骑士帽盔上的面罩掀了起来，使他的呼吸更为舒畅，然而下半部护面具仍保持原状，这样他的面貌只露出了一半，但晒黑的红润颧骨已一目了然，那对又大又明亮的蓝眼睛也在掀起的面罩的阴影下炯炯发光；他的整个姿态和神情显得无忧无虑，大胆自信——这种心情是从来不怕危险的，哪怕它到了眼前也不以为意，然而作为一个经常与战争和冒险打交道的人，他的思想却从来不会忘记危险。
小丑仍穿着平时那件光怪陆离的衣服，只是最近的一些事件已使他丢掉了木剑，换了一把锋利的弯形大刀和与它配合的一面小盾牌；在攻打托奎尔斯通城堡的时候，尽管他不是打仗的料，这两件武器他却运用得十分熟练。确实，汪八头脑的毛病主要在于一刻也安顿不下，他可以在短短几分钟内，对眼前要办的事，或者眼前要考虑的问题，作出灵敏的反应，但是他无法长时间保持一个姿势，也无法长时间保持一定的思路。就因为这样，他骑在马上老是前后摆动，一会儿扑在马耳朵上，一会儿又突然仰卧在马屁股上；一会儿把两腿伸在一边，一会儿又脸对尾巴坐着，做怪相，扮鬼脸，装出千百种假样子，最后他的马终于对他的把戏不耐烦了，把他摔下了马背，让他直挺挺躺在草地上——这件事引得骑士哈哈大笑，但也使他的伙伴从此安稳了一些。
我们碰到他们的时候，他们还在旅行，两人高高兴兴，边走边唱，这是一种名叫维尔莱的法国民歌，小丑用圆润的嗓音唱副歌，配合受过较好训练的镣铐骑士。那支曲子是这样的：
安娜·马丽，亲爱的，太阳升起了，
安娜·马丽，亲爱的，清晨开始了，
雾气正在消散，亲爱的，鸟儿已在欢唱，
早晨该起身啦，亲爱的，安娜·马丽。
安娜·马丽，亲爱的，迎着晨光起身吧，
猎人把悦耳的号音吹向了空中，
岩石和树木送来了欢乐的回声，
是起身的时候了，亲爱的，安娜·马丽。
汪八唱
哦，蒂伯特，亲爱的，不要叫醒我，
甜蜜的梦正在我柔软的枕边萦回，
哦，蒂伯特，醒时的欢乐
怎能与这些梦中的幻景相比？
让鸟儿对着升起的雾影尖声歌唱吧，
让猎人在山上大声吹他的号角吧，
我的梦中有着更柔和的声音，更甜蜜的欢乐，
但是蒂伯特，亲爱的，不要以为我是梦见了你。
他们唱完以后，汪八说道：“这是一首好歌，凭我的小丑权杖起誓，它包含着美好的寓意！我常与葛四一起唱它，他从前是我的游伴，现在多谢上帝和他的主人，他已成了十足的自由人；有一天我们陶醉在这歌声中，太阳升起后两个钟头，还赖在床上不肯起身，在半睡半醒中哼着这支曲子，结果挨了一顿棍子，从此每逢想到这歌儿骨头便有些痛。不过我还是为您装扮安娜·马丽，唱了这歌，骑士老爷。”
接着小丑又哼起了另一支曲子，这是一支滑稽歌，骑士也照着他的调子，与他配合。
骑士和汪八合唱
三个快活的小伙子来自南方、西方和北方，
嘴里不断哼着他们的曲子，要到怀科姆比向一位寡妇求婚，
这叫寡妇怎能对他们说个不字？第一个是来自泰恩谷的骑士，
他不停嘴地唱着他的歌；上帝保佑，他的祖先都大有来历，
你叫寡妇怎能对他说个不字？他的父亲是爵爷，他的伯父是乡绅，
他在曲子里吹得天花乱坠；但是她叫他还是滚回炉边烤火吧，
因为她这个寡妇就敢请他免开尊口。
汪八独唱
第二个声称他来自世家望族，
得意扬扬地把他的歌唱个没完；他出身绅士门第，在威尔士一脉相传，
你叫寡妇又怎能对他说个不字？他的上代是大卫爵士，大卫的上代是摩根，
还有格里菲和许，多锋和莱斯；她说一个寡妇怎能嫁这么多的男人，
还是请他另找高明吧，她不敢高攀。但是接着来了肯特郡的一个自耕农，
他的歌唱得抑扬顿挫，特别动听；他向寡妇谈了他的生活和收入，
这叫寡妇怎能对他说一个不字？
两人合唱
于是骑士和乡绅站在那里傻了眼，
只得另找别人继续唱他们的歌；
因为肯特郡的自耕农每年有了那样的收入，
还有哪个寡妇会对他说个不字？
“汪八，你这么歌颂我们粗犷爽直的自耕农，”骑士说道，“要是让我们那位约会树的主人，或者他的随军教士，那个快活的修士听到了，他们不知该多高兴呢。”
“我可不想让他们听到，”汪八说，“不过挂在您肩带上的号角还有些意思。”
“对，”骑士说，“这是洛克斯利友好意愿的保证，其实我不见得需要用它。据说，在必要的时候，我只要用这喇叭吹三个号音，马上会有一群正直的自耕农快快活活地前来支援我们。”
“但愿上帝保佑吧，”小丑说，“我倒宁可不要这种保证，他们也能让我们太太平平通过。”
“你这是什么意思？”骑士说，“你是不是想说，没有这种友好的保证，他们便会袭击我们？”
“不，我不想多讲了，”汪八说，“要知道隔墙有耳，树林里也是有耳朵的。我只想请教你一个问题；你说，什么时候酒囊和钱包空着比装满好？”
“我想，从来不会有这种时候，”骑士答道。
“你回答得这么简单，你就永远不配带着装满的酒囊和钱包出门！你把酒壶递给撒克逊人以前，最好先把它喝干，你在森林中赶路以前，也最好把钱留在家中。”
“那么你是认为我们那些朋友都是土匪啦？”镣铐骑士说。
“我可没有那么讲，骑士老爷，”汪八说。“一个人要长途跋涉的时候，最好把盔甲脱掉，使他的马不致负担过重；同样道理，一个人出门以前，最好先把祸根去掉，赶路时才无牵无挂；因此对于干那种营生的人，我从不咒骂，我只是在碰到这班好汉以前，先把钱包藏在家里，这可以省掉他们不少麻烦。”
“不过我们还是应该为他们祈祷，我的朋友，尽管你把他们说得那么不堪。”
“为他们祈祷，我完全同意，”汪八答道，“但那是在城里，不是在森林里，像圣比斯修道院的长老那样，给关在一棵空心大栎村里为他们念经。”
“你爱怎么说，随你的便，汪八，”骑士答道，“在攻打托奎尔斯通城堡这件事上，那些自耕农对你的主人塞德里克可是恩德不浅啊。”
“说得不错，”汪八答道，“不过那是他们在跟上帝作交易呢。”
“作交易，汪八！你这话是什么意思？”他的同伴说道。
“这还不明白？”小丑说。“他们是在跟上帝结清账目，就像我们的酒店老板算账一样，每一笔都清清楚楚，也跟犹太佬对待他的债户差不多；他们也是这样，拿出了几个小钱，收进的却是大笔利润。毫无疑问，他们是为自己着想，因为正如《圣经》上许诺的，你的善举可以得到七倍的好处。”
“你把你的意思举个例子给我听听，汪八，我不懂得算账，或者怎么计算利息，”骑士说道。
“好吧，”汪八说，“既然你这位勇士这么笨，只得请你好好听着：那些诚实的家伙是在用一件好事与另一件不太好的事互相抵账；比如从一个胖长老那里勒索到了一百枚金币，便向行乞的修士施舍一枚金币，在树林里吻了一个小姑娘，便在村子里搭救一个穷寡妇。”
“那么，哪几件算得好事，哪几件算是坏事呢？”骑士问。
“你取笑得好！取笑得好！”汪八说，“跟聪明人在一起总会给人不少启发。我可以起誓，骑士老爷，你跟那位鲁莽的修土通宵喝酒，代替晚祷的时候，没有讲过这么妙的话。但是让我接着讲。那些森林里的快活天使烧掉了一个城堡，便建造一所农舍，抢劫了一所教堂，便给唱诗班修理一下屋顶，杀死了一个傲慢的官员，便释放一个囚犯，或者讲得更贴近一些我们的话题，烧死了一个诺曼贵族，便救出一个撒克逊庄主。总之，他们是懂人情的匪徒，讲礼貌的强盗；在他们刚干过坏事的时候遇到他们，这是世界上最幸运的事。”
“为什么，汪八？”骑士问。
“为什么？因为他们正在受到良心的责备，急需干件什么事，以便与上帝结清账目。但是如果他们的账已经结清，那么上帝保佑吧，不知谁又该倒霉了！他们在托奎尔斯通干了好事以后，最早遇到他们的旅客，非给剥掉一层皮不可。不过，”汪八走到骑士身边，又道，“对旅客说来，遇到那些强盗还算好呢，还有比他们更危险的家伙。”
“那是什么人，因为我想你指的当然不是豺狼虎豹吧？”骑士说。
“当然，老爷，我指的是马尔沃辛手下的丘人，”汪人说。“我告诉你吧，在战乱时期，这样的人只要遇到十来个，就够你受的，他们比一群狼更可怕呢。现在这些家伙正指望着大丰收，从托奎尔斯通逃走的雇佣兵，如今也加入了他们一伙，因此要是我们遇到这批人，看来我们就得为攻打城堡的胜利付出代价了。现在我想请教，骑士老总，要是我们遇到两个这样的人，你怎么办？”
“只要他们敢拦击我们，我就用我的枪尖把他们插在地上，汪八。”
“但如果来了四个呢？”
“他们也会喝到同样的苦酒，”骑士回答。
“那么如果六个呢？”汪八继续道，“要知道我们现在只有两个人；你还不想用洛克斯利的号角吗？”
“得啦！”骑士喊道，“为了一二十个这种小毛贼，还要用号声讨救兵？任何一个合格的骑士都可以像秋风扫落叶一样，把他们一扫而光！”
“那好吧，”汪人说，“你把这号角给我，让我仔细瞧瞧，它怎么有这么大的声音。”
骑士解开了肩带的扣子，满足了旅伴的要求，后者马上把号角挂到了自己的脖子上。
“特拉——里拉——拉，”汪八用口哨吹出了这几个音符，“瞧，我能吹这个调子，也能吹别的调子。”
“混蛋，你什么意思？”骑士说。“把号角还给我。”
“放心好了，骑士老爷，在我这里是万无一失的。勇士和傻瓜一起旅行，号角应由傻瓜保管，因为他最适合吹这东西。”
“不成，你这骗子，”黑甲骑士说道，“太放肆了。当心别惹得我忍耐不住。”
“不要用暴力逼迫我，骑士先生，”小丑说，与急躁的武士保持着一定距离，“要不然，蠢人就得拔脚跑了，让你这位勇士自己在树林里乱闯，看你怎么办。”
“得啦，给你钻了空子，”骑士答道，“说实话，我没有时间跟你吵架。号角由你保管也成，但我们得继续赶路。”
“那么你不会打我？”汪八说。
“我不打你，你这混蛋！”
“你得用骑士的人格向我保证，”汪八说，一面小心翼翼地走过去。
“我用骑士的人格向你保证；但是你这傻瓜，快走。”
“好吧，勇士和傻瓜又成了好朋友，”小丑说，老老实实地走到了