Айвенго / Ivanhoe

”

The cavalcade rode on, and Gurth said to his companion, “If they follow your wise direction, the reverend fathers will hardly reach Rotherwood this night.”

“No,” said the Jester, smiling, “but they may reach Sheffield if they have good luck, and that is a good place for them.”

“You are right,” said Gurth; “it would be bad if that Aymer saw the Lady Rowena; and it would be worse for Cedric to have a quarrel, as he most likely would, with this military monk.”

In the meanwhile the riders talked on their way.

Prior Aymer said: “Remember what I told you: this wealthy Franklin is proud, fierce, jealous, and easy to irritate, he can stand against the nobles, even his neighbours, Reginald Front-de-Boeuf and Philip Malvoisin, who are no babies to fight with. He stands up so proudly for the privileges of his people that he is universally called Cedric the Saxon.”

“Then I expect much beauty in this famous Rowena to reward me for being polite with such a man as her father Cedric,” said the Templar.

“Cedric is not her father,” replied the Prior, “he is a distant relative: she is descended from higher blood than even he pretends to. He is only her guardian, but his ward is as dear to him as if she were his own child. Of her beauty you shall soon be judge; but, brother, take my advice, and be polite. Cedric the Saxon is a man who would clear his house of us, if he thinks that we offended him. And be careful how you look on Rowena.

It is said he banished his only son from his family for falling in love with this beauty. But here is the clown’s sunken cross, and the night is so dark that we can hardly see which of the roads we should follow. He told us to turn to the left, I think.”

“To the right,” said Brian, “as far as I can remember.”

“To the left, certainly, the left.”

They went on quarrelling for some time, when the Templar noticed a sleeping man near the cross and touched him with the back of his lance.

The man stood up, exclaiming in good French, “Whoever you may be, it is bad of you to disturb me.”

“We only want to ask you,” said the Prior, “the road to Rotherwood, the house of Cedric the Saxon.”

“I am going there myself,” replied the stranger; “and if I had a horse, I would be your guide.”

“You will have both thanks and reward, my friend,” said the Prior, “if you bring us to Cedric’s in safety.