It was one of Wilfred's favorite memories. Under questioning, it had been difficult to get the doped up knight to speak of anything else. He had been quite well pleased with himself.
The Templar did not take that well. He scowled and his hands clenched into fists.
"Their names, good palmer!" shouted Athelstane. "Could you tell us the names of these gallant knights?"
"The first in honor, as in arms, was Richard, King of England," Lucas said. "The Earl of Leicester was the second. Sir Thomas Multon of Gilsland was the third."
"A Saxon!" hollered Athelstane, joyfully.
"Sir Foulk Doilly was the fourth," said Lucas.
"A Saxon on his mother's side!" yelled Athelstane, to the growing displeasure of the Normans. "And the fifth? Who was the fifth?"
"Sir Edwin Turneham."
"Saxon, by the soul of Hengist!" Athelstane's voice grew even louder, echoing throughout the hall. "The sixth! Who was the sixth?"
"I fear the sixth knight was one of lesser renown," said Lucas, "whose name dwells not in my memory."
"Sir Palmer," Bois-Guilbert said, tensely, "this assumed forgetfulness after so much has been remembered, comes too late to serve your purpose. I will tell you myself who this knight was, whose good fortune and my horse's fault gave him the victory. It was Sir Wilfred of Ivanhoe and there was not one of the six who, for his years, had more renown in arms, as Sir Wilfred would himself be first to tell you. Yet I will tell you this, that were Ivanhoe in England, I would soon demonstrate which of us is second to none in arms and valor!"
"Well, then," said John, smirking, "we shall include Sir Wilfred in our toast, whose absence prevents his answering the challenge. Let all fill to the pledge, and especially Cedric of Rotherwood, the worthy father to so gallant a defender of the Cross."
"No, my lord," said Cedric, turning his goblet upside down upon the table and spilling out his wine. "I will not drink to a disobedient youth who despises my commands and relinquishes the manners and the customs of his fathers!"
"What," said John, "can such a gallant knight be an unworthy son?"
"His name shall not pass my lips," said Cedric. "He left my home to mingle with the nobles at your brother's court, where he learned your Norman ways and tricks of horsemanship. He acted contrary to my wishes and commands and in the days of Alfred, such disobedience as his would have been a crime severely punished! Nor is it my least quarrel with my son that he stooped to hold, as feudal vassal, the very lands which his fathers possessed in free and independent right!"
John smiled. "Then it would seem that we would have your sanction, Cedric, if we were to confer this fief upon a person whose dignity would not be diminished by the holding of it. Sir Maurice De Bracy, will you keep the Barony of Ivanhoe, so that Sir Wilfred shall not further incur Cedric's displeasure by being a feudal vassal of the Crown?"
"By God," said De Bracy, "I'll be called a Saxon before Cedric or Wilfred or the best of English blood shall take away from me this gift, Your Highness!"
"Anyone calling you a Saxon, Sir Maurice," said Cedric, "would be doing you an honor as great as it is undeserved."
"No doubt the noble Cedric speaks the truth," said John. "His race may, indeed, claim precedence over us in the length of their pedigrees. The pictish blue with which his fathers painted themselves doubtless imparted the nobility of color to their veins."
"They do go before us in the field," said Father Aymer, "much as deer go before the dogs."
"And we should not forget their singular abstemiousness and temperance," said De Bracy, chuckling at Athelstane, who stood literally quivering with rage.
"Together with the courage and the conduct by which they distinguished themselves at Hastings and elsewhere," said Bois-Guilbert.
"Whatever be the defects of their race, real or imagined," said the heretofore silent de la Croix, "as one who has had occasion to partake of Saxon hospitality, I can at least vouchsafe that I know no Saxon who, in his own hall and while his own wine cup has been passed, has ever treated an unoffending guest to such a display of discourtesy as I have seen here on this night."
There was a long moment of uncomfortable silence, broken finally by Cedric, who rose to his feet ponderously.
"My thanks, Sir Knight," he said, controlling his voice with difficulty. "At least there is one among you who does not stoop to use a guest in such a wanton fashion. As for the misfortune of our fathers upon the field of Hastings, those may at least be silent who have within the past few hours once again been tumbled from the saddle by a Saxon lance!"
"By my faith, a biting jest!" said John, laughing. "Our Saxon subjects rise in spirit and courage, become shrewd in wit and bold in bearing in these unsettled times! Alas, I fear it may be best if we were to board our galleys and flee for Normandy in the face of such an uprising!"
"What, for fear of Saxons?" said De Bracy. "We need only shake our hunting spears to set these unruly boars to flight."
"A truce with your raillery, my lords," Fitzurse said. "Perhaps Your Highness would do well to assure the noble Cedric that there has been no insult intended by these good-natured jests."
"Insult?" said Prince John. "No, surely the noble Cedric perceives our humor and knows that I would not permit such insults to be offered in my presence. My lords, I fill my cup and drink to Cedric, since he will not abide our pledging his son's health."
"And to Sir Athelstane of Coningsburgh," Fitzurse said.
The guests all echoed the sentiment and drank, though Cedric and Athelstane remained visibly unappeased.
"Now, good Cedric, noble Athelstane," said John, "since we have drunk your health, is there not some Norman whose mention may at least sully your mouth, so that you might wash down with wine all bitterness?"
Cedric sat silent for a long moment, then at last raised his goblet, having made a great show of filling it.
"I have been asked to name a Norman deserving of all our praise and honor," he said. "This is not an easy task, as it requires a slave to sing the praises of his master. The beaten dog is asked to lick the hand that wields the whip. Yet I will name a Norman. I will name the best and noblest of his race. And those who will refuse to pledge his health, I term false and dishonored. I give you Richard the Lionhearted!"
John, who had been smiling, expecting to be named himself in a show of courtesy, now had the smile freeze upon his face. No one touched their goblets until his hand reached for his and he stood, a bit unsteadily, holding his goblet out before him.
"Richard of England," he said tonelessly. Then, after a pause, "Long may he live."
"Richard of England," echoed the other guests, all save De Bracy and Bois-Guilbert, whose goblets remained untouched upon the table.
Cedric set his goblet down, looking long and hard at Bois-Guilbert and De Bracy.
"I thank you, my lords," he said. "And now, having partaken of your hospitality, I think the time has come for us to leave. Come Athelstane, Rowena… Perhaps these Normans will share some of our Saxon hospitality another time. I warrant they'll find our manner not so courtly, but I doubt our courtesies will suffer by comparison, overwhelming though their own courtesy has been."
As they passed by Lucas on their way out, he lowered his head, bowing low to Cedric.
"If you are on the road to Rotherwood, my lord," he said, "perhaps you would not mind if a poor palmer traveled with you. The hour is getting late and I hear these woods are dangerous at night."