Ivanhoe Page #4

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This knight is no stranger.

- Only one Saxon could ever fight like that.

- Sir lvanhoe?

- And you would've had me shoot him down.

- Why, it was I who stopped you.

May he choke on his beard!

He went at his foe like a stupid bull

to the slaughter.

Now it's De Bracy.

He's hurt.

Oh, I pray to God he rides no more.

To whose god shall a Jew pray

for a gentile?

To the same God who made them both.

Fitzurse, have this upstart

brought before me.

I intend to mark him well.

Marshal!

Ride again.

It takes more than a lisping Norman

to unhorse my son.

You have no son.

I've heard you say it.

Your foe has bloodied you, sir knight.

Will you concede defeat?

You fight too well to die so mean a death.

Will you not throw in your lot

with me instead?

That would be an even meaner death,

Your Grace.

Lower your lance.

By laws of chivalry,

you've earned the right to choose...

...who shall be queen of love and beauty

at our sport.

It is our pleasure you shall appoint her...

...so that one, at least, shall mourn you

when you lie cold beneath your shield.

A Saxon queen.

Confound the dog!

Is there no end to his insults?

- Why does he plague me so?

- Forget him, Your Highness.

His strutting cannot harm you.

You're too well-loved.

Wake up. The crown is not so firmly on my

head that I can let a rebel tilt at it in public.

You speak of the dead, Your Highness.

- He now faces Bois-Guilbert.

- I hope he cleaves him so he splits in two.

We know you, sir knight.

From this moment on, at any time,

at any price, we are your men.

My son.

Milord, your place is at his side.

Go to him and forgive him.

Go instead, to see that his wounds are cared

for. Then come to tell me how he fares.

But never let him know I sent you.

He will not let me touch him, milady, but

he'll die from loss of blood if we leave him.

He shall not be left here,

and I shall not let him die.

Sir squire, fetch a litter.

Ivanhoe.

Ivanhoe.

I failed you, Rowena...

...as I failed my king.

You have won the king's first victory.

No.

Not until I have defeated Bois-Guilbert.

Wamba, go find a physician

and bring him here at once!

No physician, milady.

He's bled enough.

Who are you to say what shall be done?

I was taught medicine

by Miriam of Manassas...

...and I can heal him.

Miriam of Manassas? But she was a witch.

They burned her at the stake.

Yes, milady, as they well may burn me too.

But the point of De Bracy's lance...

...is still deep within that wound.

If it is probed for here...

...not even you could answer for his life.

How can I be sure what you're telling me

is the truth?

Shall I argue with you while he dies?

I can heal him, milady.

If you can say the same, take him.

If you cannot, stand aside.

Stand aside, for you?

No, milady.

For lvanhoe.

How did you come to know him?

My father knows him, milady, not I.

- Where will you take him?

- To my father's house in Sheffield.

I leave him in your care.

I shall not fail him.

May I send his squire for the litter?

- Do as the lady bids, Wamba.

- Yes, milady.

Swear to me his wound will mend.

His wound will mend.

You love him.

Why, I told you,

I hardly know him, milady.

How shall I know how he fares?

I will send word to you

by his squire, milady.

I will await it.

- Well?

- He is in good hands, milord.

- His wounds, are they slight or heavy?

- Heavy, milord.

They'll carry him to Sheffield.

He will be tended there.

We'll go to Sheffield till he's out of danger.

See he never hears of it...

...or he'll think I've softened into dotage.

Hundebert! The horses!

Roast your liver.

To the confusion and confounding

of that cursed death's-head knight.

- Why couldn't you fools kill him on the field?

- Because he was no fool.

How can a Norman hold the throne

of England...

...when his knights go down like chaff...

...beneath an unknown

Saxon mountebank?

Neither a mountebank nor yet unknown.

I rode against that knight at Acre,

in the war.

Then tell us who he is.

The favored henchman of your brother

Richard, my liege. Wilfred of lvanhoe.

Ivanhoe? Here in England?

You told me he was dead!

He should be, and he shall be

when he and I meet again.

I carry his death warrant here

against my breast.

Then why is he here?

Where else but among Saxons

would he seek the ransom for his Richard?

Do you know this?

Nay. I do but trust my nose,

sniffing like a badger in a wood.

To whom did lvanhoe tip his lance

in gallantry today?

To a Jewess named Rebecca, daughter

of Isaac, the banker of his tribe.

What could he want of the Jews

except money for the ransom?

- Where is he now?

- Not far from the money, if I know lvanhoe.

I empower you to find and seize him

and every man who's tried to help him.

- Their women too?

- Their women, their servants, their dogs.

I want every creature...

...Saxon, Jew or Norman,

who's had a hand in aiding Richard.

But most urgently, I want lvanhoe...

...no matter what it costs.

- You shall have him, my liege.

Set about it. De Bracy, go with him.

Front De Boeuf, you too.

Aye, my liege.

So the plum drops ripe

into your outstretched hand.

Into mine or no one's.

I love you.

And I must not feel it.

And yet I love you, lvanhoe...

...with all the longing in the lonely world.

- How is he?

- All is well with him, Father.

And with you?

I've not been blind to the loneliness

of your life, my child.

The happiness you long for is real,

and all men long for it...

...but you will not find it here.

This knight's faith forbids him

to look upon you as a woman...

...even as yours forbids you to look

upon him as a man.

Then why does it not also forbid me

to feel joy or sorrow?

It tries to teach you that as well.

Then it has failed.

If our teachings are false,

they will pass away...

...but until that time,

we must abide by them.

Perish by them, you mean.

My heart is breaking, Father.

My heart broke long ago...

...but it serves me still.

My daughter brought you back here

and tended your wound, Sir lvanhoe.

Again, you come to my aid.

And you, Isaac.

Rest peacefully, sir knight.

The ransom is growing

even while we speak...

...some here in Sheffield,

but most in York.

When you can,

we will journey there to gather it.

We?

You've risked enough.

Stay here in safety, Rebecca.

What place in England is safe

until the ransom is paid?

And you said you loved not England.

- Locksley seeks word with you, sire.

- Sir lvanhoe...

...Prince John's jackals are upon you.

They know it's you and that Isaac aided.

And John's sent Bois-Guilbert

to seize you.

Will you be safe in York?

- Yes, Sir lvanhoe.

- Then get you there.

- They'll break down every door in Sheffield.

- Not every door. Not Cedric's.

- Or he'll bring the roof about their ears.

- Cedric in Sheffield?

Yes, sire, to hear news of you.

Take this lady and her father to him.

Beg him for protection as far as Rotherwood.

I'll join you in York as soon as I can ride

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