Original subtitles

Thank you.

In the 12th century, at the close of the Third Crusade to free the Holy Land, a

Saxon knight called Wilfred of Ivanhoe undertook a private crusade of his own.

England's warrior king, Richard the Lion -Hearted, had disappeared during his

homeward march, vanishing without trace.

His disappearance dealt a cruel blow to his unhappy country, already in turmoil

from the bitter conflict between Saxon and Norman.

And in time, most of his subjects came to mourn him as dead.

But Ivanhoe's faith that his king still lived took him on an endless quest from

castle to castle until at last he came to Austria.

What do you want of me? Tell me what is written here. I read no Austrian.

Happily, I read English.

Read it to me happily, then.

To the people of England, I am here held captive by Leopold of Austria.

My brother, Prince John, has knowledge of it.

Yet he has denied me ransom.

150 ,000 marks of silver.

I fear he does conspire with certain Norman knights to seize my throne.

People of England, speed my deliverance.

Your kingdom is at stake.

It is signed.

I know the hand that signed it.

But the eyes that saw it shall forget that name and all they read.

But this knife will... plucked them out and cast them to the crows.

Do you remember what you saw?

I have forgotten every syllable.

Prince John.

Certain Norman life.

Sir Norman Knight.

These glades go on forever.

I hope we find shelter before nightfall.

Why, Gilbert?

What do you fear, de Brassy? Saxon hobgoblins?

No, Saxon arrow in the small of my back.

I wager there's a cutthroat behind every tree trunk.

Aye, and soon they'll be hanging from them.

Unless we are.

God save you, knight.

God save you, minstrel. We ride to Ashby. Which crossroad do we take?

The right will take you to Ashby, sire. Shall we get there by nightfall?

By nightfall tomorrow.

Tomorrow? Can you show us the way to a roof for the night?

I know of a roof nearby, but perhaps you would scorn it.

Why, is it humble?

No, sire, it is Saxon.

I'd sooner bivouac on the roadside.

It is a warm, fine night.

To be butchered in one's sleep.

Would you sooner walk into a Saxon trap?

What is this house you speak of, Minstrom?

Rotherwood, the keep of Cedric the Saxon.

I believe I know this Cedric the Saxon.

Has he a ward, a woman of great beauty?

The Saxon Princess Lady Rowena is his ward.

Aye, Rowena.

To the same Cedric. He loves us not at all, but we would sleep safe beneath his

roof. You know the way?

Well enough to lead you there. Then lead us there, but mark you this one false

step and you'll sing a very different song, my friend.

I have a song to fit every occasion, sire. He means you'll lop your head off,

minstrel. Yes, sire, I knew what he meant.

Now, Loxley, now, while they're still in rain. Fish, you hothead. Would you slay

Sir Ivanhoe? Sir Ivanhoe died in the Holy Land.

The troubadour is Sir Ivanhoe. He takes those Normans to his father's keep.

Ivanhoe defied his father when he went to the wars and Cedric cast him off.

He would never go back there.

Unless he's turned traitor to the Saxons and his father with him. Put down your

bows.

I'll know why he rides with Normans and why he takes those Normans to his father

before I'll be leave ill of Sir Ivanhoe or Cedric. And so shall you, you rattle

-pet. Hmm?

On your leave, my lord, two knights to request food and lodging.

They are Normans, lately returned from the Holy Land.

If they break no laws of courtesy as guests, I'll break none as host.

Bid them enter in peace and depart in peace, or else depart in pieces.

Elgida, tell the lady Druina I do desire her presence here tonight.

But, my lord, she is pining for news from the Holy Land.

When she hears what breed of men they are, she'll want none of their news.

Tell her to keep to her chambers till we acquit of them tomorrow.

and Sir Hugh de Brasse, my lord.

We come in peace, Sir Cedric. In peace I greet you. We come also as friends.

I greet no one in friendship, save those who share the royal Saxon blood.

Homely fare is before you. Eat your fill of it.

Come in, Womba, and make me laugh a little.

Tonight, milady, I do not play the fool.

I play the wizard.

Close your eyes, and I will perform a wonder.

How long must I keep my eyes closed?

Till you have wished.

What shall I wish for?

Whom do you hold most dear?

You know who that is?

Say his name, and he shall come to you.

I knew, I knew.

Knew what, Rowena? I knew that you were safe and that you were alive and that

you loved me still.

I used to reach out my hand at night when I couldn't sleep and there was only

darkness all around me and I'd feel your fingertips touch mine and I knew you

were still alive and I was comforted.

There was never a day or an hour when your hand was not in mine.

Are you crying?

I'm too happy to laugh.

I've never known such happiness.

Nor have I, ever.

It's as if you'd never been away, as if I'd never suffered any loneliness except

in a dream that I awoke from when you gave me.

This was not a dream, though.

The scars are almost gone.

Do you remember how afraid you were?

Not when you cut my wrist, only when you cut your own.

And I know I didn't show it.

You were trembling, as you know, beside me when we made our vow to God.

While my blood mingled with yours.

Does my father hate me still?

No one is allowed to speak your name.

Then I must make my peace with him as swiftly as I can.

I don't know what trouble are you in. None yet.

But Richard is not dead.

He's held for ransom in Austria, and John would keep him there.

I've snared two Norman hawks in the hall below, and I cannot hood them single

-handed. I need aid, Rowena.

But what help can I be? Come to the hall and draw them out.

These are John's closest friends.

If my father will help me, I can trick them into telling what they know.

And if he will not help you?

Where's Wamba? Where's my fool? I want to be amused.

And you'll find it hard enough to do.

I've been unavoidably delayed, my lord.

Delayed? How so?

Well, when I heard Normans were approaching, I ran to lock up my wife.

But she'd also heard they were approaching and locked me up instead.

A fool's wife is safe, my lord.

We are bound for the trial by combat against your Saxon knights at Ashby

days hence.

Not for any Saxon ladies' chamber.

And how will you spend your last three days on earth?

It will not be my friend and I who will die.

Will you be there to see the Saxons fall?

My lord, there is a stranger at your gate who begs shelter.

He is a Jew who calls himself Isaac of York.

I share no roof with an infidel.

Why not, sir knight? For every Jew you... show me who's not a Christian,

show you a Christian who's not a Christian.

Now, why should my guests be subject to your prejudices when so far they have

not been subject to my own?

Bid this traveler enter in peace.

I come in peace, my lord. May God reward your mercy.

In peace I greet you.

Make a place for him at the table and give him food and drink.

If hearsay does not lie, you have a ward of surpassing beauty, my lord.

Why then is the hall dimmed by the absence of the brightest flame in Saxon

England? Because, Sir Knight, we Saxons have learned to hide our life under a

bushel. Are we condemned never to pay homage to her at all?

No Saxon princess seeks homage from the men who took her lands by conquest,

threw down her ancient laws, and put her subjects to the sword.

Those well -chewed scraps of bile were better thrown to the dogs than to

Normans. While such as you were sulking here at home, we held the infidel at bay

in England's name and fell before his fury.

If our blood is red enough to bleed for England, it's red enough to pay homage

to any woman on this isle, Saxon, Norman, Dane or Celt. Then pay me your

sir. And let me be the judge of its gallantry.

We pay you homage, my lady, but it must be silent homage, for words would fail

it, just as they have failed my friend and all that failed me.

I thank you, Sir Knight.

There are questions that I would ask of you as soon as your tongue is loose

again.

At your command, my lady.

What is the news from the Holy Land?

Alas, my lady, I can add little to what you must already know.

The war has ended in a truthless truth once more.

And Richard the Lionhearted has vanished upon the wind that once made up the

better part of him.

Richard should have stayed at home and kept England and left Jerusalem to be

lost by knights like you, who lost it anyway.

Are you for Richard, my lord, or for John?

Richard and John had the same mother.

One was a Norman, so what was the other?

Both were Norman, true.

But Richard, with all his faults, was for England.

And John?

John is for John.

Then you're against John, my lord.

Oh, that's another Norman question.

Shall I answer it for you, my lord? No, I would have my questions answered

first.

Tonight I believe that there were tournaments between the Saxon and the

knights to prove which was the more valiant.

Ay, my lady, in the Holy Land, the Saxons were at last taught to bow to

betters. And yet I hear the Saxons won the tournaments.

How does a Saxon lady come to know so much of such distant matters?

Only from the tales I hear, Sir Knight.

And I was told that in the tournament at Acre, Richard of England led five of

his Saxon knights into combat and vanquished all who challenged them.

The one who fell was named de Brassy.

And another, Bois Gilbert.

True, my lady.

I blush, but I admit it.

I can still feel the dust in my mouth.

Is it out of your teeth yet, Gilbert?

A broken saddle berth caused my fall, not the bumpkin of a knight I tilted.

And who was this bumpkin of a knight?

He named himself Wilfred of Ivanhoe.

Ivanhoe?

I'm a lady, a friend of Richard's, who vanished as suddenly as his king.

What manner of knight was he to look upon?

I never saw his face.

Few men did.

But he wore a dragon charge on his shield.

I shall ride by that if we ever meet again.

And why did he vanish, sir?

Because he was a coward. Coward? Aye, a coward.

Who fled when there was no Richard to hide behind before I could challenge him

to meet me again.

Then I give you the challenge that Ivanhoe would give to you were he here,

knight.

And I bid you drink to his honour as a fellow knight.

And you, my lord?

Will you drink to his honor, too?

To

Ivanhoe.

Ivanhoe. Ivanhoe.

Why this Saxon passion for a stranger, my lady?

Ivanhoe was not always a stranger to these halls.

He's a stranger now.

He was my son.

Was?

Have I been cheated?

You mean he's dead?

He is to me.

I have come at my foster child's request.

Nothing else would have brought me here. What do you want of me?

Your hand first, sir.

I do not give it.

My lord, he is still your son.

What do you want of me? Be brief, for I want none of you.

I will be brief, then.

I have found the king.

The king is dead. The king is alive.

Held for ransom by Leopold of Austria.

It's all here in the king's hand. Read it for yourself.

John has left him in his chains so that he can steal his throne.

As those two Norman knights in your castle now could testify if you put them

the sword point.

Is it Richard's hand?

Perhaps. Written before they killed him.

I heard his voice, I tell you. The king is alive.

What is the ransom?

150 ,000 marks of silver.

There's not that sum in all of England. You could still pay your share of it.

For what?

To buy back Richard's corpse?

I'll use what money I have left to slay the living Normans, not dig up the dead

ones. You'll leave your king to rot, then.

I'll leave him to mad, wild fools like you, who can do him neither harm nor

good. Then you force me to choose between my father and my king.

Choose?

Choose between whom?

You have no king, and I have no son.

My lord.

I bid you take no part in this, nor look upon his face again.

Be gone from here within the hour.

What will you do now?

Follow Bois Gilbert to Ashby and meet him in the lists.

Be cautious, I know.

Don't be afraid, Rowena.

Richard will be king again and we shall be there to see the crown set upon his

head.

Look for me at the tournament and pray for me.

Farewell.

Farewell and God protect you.

Ivanhoe. I heard an old bear and a young bear growling.

Which is the one who would leave the den?

The young bear, Wamba.

Alone?

Alone. No, sire.

I will go with you.

My servant's collar and all.

Is your heart not here with the lady Rowena?

No, sire.

My heart is in there with yours.

Then henceforth you shall be my squire, Wamba.

Squire?

Squire Wamba?

Wamba the squire?

Oh, if it weren't for this, I'd be a gentleman.

We'll have that collar off as soon as we're away from here.

Why don't we get a woman?

I'll barely leave her.

Only a little.

My home.

Sheffield, Tom.

I want to go back there at once.

Alone on the high roads at night, you'd perish. Even so, I must go back to

Sheffield.

Then I shall take you there.

I've trussed them up, Sir Ivano, like capons. Bring our horses from the

and meet me in the courtyard.

But, Sir Ivano, I have no horse. Then steal one.

But, gentlemen, at last, my first task is to steal a horse.

Take quarters for us at the sign of the long bow. I'll join you there.

Mustard! Mustard! Enough, enough.

All's well with me. Let us in.

Yes, yes.

And much beholden to you for your kindness, sire.

Yet there is one question I would ask.

What is it? I heard the jester call you Ivanhoe.

But Ivanhoe is Cedric's son, and Cedric called him dead.

Who are you, then?

I am King Richard's envoy.

Does that make us friends or foes?

It does not make you my foes, sire.

But then I am allowed no king.

Why not?

Because I am allowed no country.

I am deeply in your debt, sire.

Tell me how I can repay you.

I seek 150 ,000 marks of silver, the price of Richard's ransom from Leopold

Austria.

Glance around you, sire. What you see is always saved from every home we tried

to make.

Toy or two from every land that cast us out. I am not a rich man, sir, I know.

No, but you are the patriarch of your tribe.

Tell your people that Richard must be ransomed and they will find the wealth

do it.

I see you love Richard, sire, but he was no friend to my people.

Our synagogues were looted to send him on his crusades.

Do you prefer the persecution of his brother John?

There is little to choose between black John and Richard, yea and nay, if you

are a Jew, sire.

Then I pledge you this, Isaac.

You're a race without a home or a country.

Deliver Richard and he will deliver your people from persecution in this land.

My friend, you ask for more than we can give and you offer more than Richard can

give. Do you doubt my word?

Write down whatever terms you want and I shall sign them in King Richard's name.

We shall need no pledge on paper, you and I.

Let Richard promise this instead.

Let him promise justice to each man, whether he be Saxon or Norman or Jew.

For justice belongs to all men, or it belongs to none.

But that is a Christian teaching.

Strange as it may be, sir, we are taught it too.

What you ask shall be done.

So be it then. Whatever money you cannot find among your own people, I shall try

to find it for you.

Does that fulfill our pact?

Not quite.

This combat at arms at Ashby is a weathervane to test the strength of

If his knights were to sweep the field, how would it go with Richard's cause?

Badly so.

Money takes fright when might conquers right.

My worldly goods are what I stand in. I have no armor and no war horse.

But I must ride against John's knights at Ashby or they will win the day.

A horse and gear would borrow from the ransom.

Then I'll seek them elsewhere.

You'll find me at the sign of the long bow.

Here is my hand in token of my pledge to you.

Why do you look at me thus, Isaac?

This is the first time I touch a Saxon hand in friendship, sir, I know.

It is Richard's hand you touch.

Now for thy collar, good squire.

Kneel down.

A cow jumped the moon, but a fool he jumps higher. From one by the surf to

by the squire.

Oh, strike, Sir Ivana, while I still have me courage.

Then off come your shackles. Oh, no. Make sure it's the shackles, not my

May your next collar be no heavier than a pretty woman's arms.

Well, that, sire, is a collar that I shall change every day.

When they first put this on me, sire, I was 11 years old.

My father died with his still round his neck.

I feel very strange.

Strange? To be free?

Yes, and I could wish that the whole of England could feel as strange as I do.

And so they shall, as soon as Richard's king again.

Now, good squire, get you to sleep.

Squire.

Stand and declare yourself.

Now, my lady, what is your purpose here?

I was told to deliver this to your lodgings.

At this hour, by the window?

Who sent you?

This is no time to lose your tongue. Who sent you?

I come from the household of Isaac of York.

Open the box.

What are these for?

For you.

These are Isaac's. He would have given them to me before I left his house.

They are not his to give.

They were handed down to my mistress by her mother.

Who is your mistress?

Rebecca, the daughter of Isaac.

She bade me tell you that these are for your armor and your horse, so that you

may ride it, Ashby.

Is this with your mother's knowledge, Rebecca?

My mother was killed in Spain two years ago.

That is why my father brought me to England.

If I should fall at Ashby, horse and armor are forfeit to the victor. These

would all be lost.

You will not fall.

But if I should?

Then England would fall too.

Do you love England so much?

Does a prisoner love his prison?

Then why do you give me your jewels?

In return for my father's life.

Your father has rewarded me for that already.

Then I reward you again.

If you change your mind and fear to write it, Ashby, then give these back to

Otherwise, use them to win the day.

I shall use them.

That is all I came to hear.

May I have your leave to go?

Not alone.

Squire! Wamba.

Squire Wamba.

That's me.

Coming, sire.

My squire will attend you.

Thank you, sir knight.

Give this lady safe escort to the house of Isaac of York. Right willingly, sire.

I wish you well, sir knight.

Farewell.

Farewell?

Will you not be there at Ashby when it is you who have put me in the lists?

Do not look for me at Ashby, sire.

Why not?

Because it is not wise for me to go.

And still less wise if you were seen to greet me there.

But why?

Because I am my father's daughter, Sir Knight.

Why else?

Nobly ridden, my lords. I never yet saw better sport.

The day is already ours, I think, Your Highness.

Aye, the Saxons are poor losers, Princess.

Look at their faces now.

Richard destroyed the flower of the land, and now his brother destroys the

seedlings that are left.

If only I were a man for one short hour.

We'd still need a hundred like you to bring back Saxon glory to this field.

I was wrong to let you coax me here, Rebecca. Only grief can come of it.

What's this, another challenger? I thought we'd picked them clean.

Your name, sir knight, or your degree?

My name I withhold.

My allegiance is to Richard, King of England.

Are you Norman or Saxon?

I am Saxon.

Choose your adversary by stroke of lance upon his shield.

from hoof to plume, the ill -omened knave.

You'll soon be bright with blood, your highness.

The madman, he defies all five.

Quickly now, voisin.

see myself grown young again, Ruina.

He reminds me much of a certain pupil of mine.

I'll bring Melvoisin to his knees for this, the empty -headed jay.

in Dunstan. Our champion pays homage to the Jews.

No, my lord.

His homage was to beauty, not to faith, I fear.

I think I know that night, Rebecca.

But how do you?

But did you not bring him to our house?

How did he get his armor and his horse?

My mother's jewels were mine to give.

Did I do wrong?

I approve.

But only of the gift.

I... hide that face from every man save me.

His taste in women is a glove in every sex and face.

Now let Sir Rafe de Vipon throw him and his shame's complete.

Sir, the field is all yours, my bully.

I shall follow you to glory.

Follow with a basket, then.

I'm going to strew the field with sacks and guts and bones.

If you can tear your eyes from the light of love, Gilbert, this black knight's

tricks bear watching.

I have been watching.

He swings his shield low, levels at the head, but drops point before shock.

I swear I've met these methods once before, but where?

Let him do it twice more, and I'll not say a word if his love was a Barbary

I would she were.

This knight is no stranger.

Only one Saxon could ever fight like that. So I haven't heard? And you would

have had me shoot him down, remember?

Why, blast me asunder, it was I who stopped you.

He'd choke on his beard. He went at his foe like a stupid bull to the slaughter.

Now it's the process.

He's hurt.

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.

Fitzers, have this upstart brought before me. I intend to mark him well.

Marshal!

Right again.

It takes more than 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 lads.

By the laws of chivalry, you have earned the right this day 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.

and found the doggies their no end to his insults. Why does he plague me so?

Oh, forget him, your highness. His strutting cannot harm you.

You're too well loved. Wake up, Fitzur. 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 Gilbert.

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.

My lord, your place is at his side.

Go to him and forgive him.

Go instead and see that his wounds are cared for. Then come at once and tell me

how he fares.

But never let him know I sent you.

He will not let me touch him, my lady. But he will die from loss of blood if we

leave him here.

He shall not be left here. And I shall not let him die.

Sasquatch, fetch a litter.

As I failed my king.

You have won the king's first victory.

No.

Not until I have defeated Bar -Gilbert.

Wambaugh, 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.

That they well may burn me, too.

But the point of de Brassy'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 that what you tell 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, my lady.

Or Ivan, though.

How did you come to know him?

My father knows him, my lady.

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, woman.

Yes, my lady.

Swear to me his wound will mend.

His wound will mend.

You love him.

I told you I hardly know him, my lady.

How shall I know how he feels?

I will send word to you by his squire, my lady.

I will await him.

Well? He is in good hands, my lord. His wounds, are they slight or heavy?

Heavy, my lord.

They will carry him to Sheffield and he will be tended there.

Then we will go to Sheffield too till I know he's out of danger.

But see, he never hears of it or he'll think I've softened into dotage.

Hold her!

Underbird! The horses!

Roast your liver.

To the confusion and confining of that cursed death's head knight.

Why could you fools not kill him on the field?

Because he was no fool, my liege. How can a Norman hold the throne of England

when the knights who are his strength go down like chaff beneath an unknown

Saxon mountebank?

Neither of mountebank nor yet unknown. I rode against that selfsame knight at

Acre in the war.

Then tell us who he is.

The favored henchman of your brother Richard, my liege, Wilfred of Ivanhoe.

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, slipping like a badger in a wood.

To whom did Ivanhoe tip his lance in gallantry today?

To a Jewess named Rebecca, daughter of Isaac of York, the banker of his tribe.

What could he want of the jewels except money for the ransom?

Where is he now?

Not far from where the money is, if I know Ivanhoe.

Then I empower you to find him out and seize him and every man who's tried to

help him. They're women, too.

They're women, they're servants, they're dogs.

I want every creature, Saxon, Jew or Norman, who's had a hand in aiding

But most urgently, I want Ivanhoe, no matter what it costs.

You shall have him, my liege.

Then set about it.

Debrassi, you go with him.

Frondeburg, you too.

I'm an agent.

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, I know.

With all the longing in the lonely world.

How is he?

All is well with him, Father.

And with you?

I have 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 night'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?

Oh, my heart is breaking, Father.

My heart broke long ago.

But it serves me still.

My daughter brought you back here and tended your wounds, sir, I know.

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 take the road, we will journey there to gather it.

We?

You've risked enough.

Stay here in safety, Rebecca.

What place in England is safe until a ransom is paid?

And you said you loved not England.

Loxley seeks words with you, sire.

Sire, Prince John's jackals are upon your heels. They notice you and that

has aided you. And John has sent Lord Gilbert here to seize all of you.

Will you be safe in York?

Yes, sir, I know. Then get you there. And fast, they'll break down every door

Sheffield. Not every door.

Not Cedric's.

Or he'll bring the roof about their ears. Secret care in Sheffield?

Yes, sir.

To hear news of you.

And take this lady and her father straight to him.

Beg him in my name to give them protection as far as Rotherwood.

I'll join you in York as soon as I can ride again. And Wamba, guard your

with your life until you see them safe in York.

I will, sir Ivan. Go then, at once.

We'll hide you in the forest till your wounds are healed.

What did you expect?

They've had wind of us and flown the trap.

Your lady bird with them.

They'll not have flown far.

My lord, I have traced the Jew Isaac and his daughter.

Where are they? On the way to Rotherwood in Cedric's train and under his

protection. And Ivanhoe?

Fled to the forest with Loxley's rebels.

Then we must take the father first.

Take Cedric and rouse all Saxony. John gave me full powers and I shall use

Once we hold Cedric, we'll smoke out Ivanhoe.

Assemble the men at arms. We ride at once. Aye, my lord. You bear.

Have you weighed this well?

Yes.

I'll risk all on one throw and win. Win what?

A Jewess or a hornet's nest?

Squire Wamba.

Squire Wamba.

I'll squire you, you renegade.

I'll collar that neck again or wring it.

Touch me, Lord.

Is that the tone for one gentleman to use to another?

Out of my sight, for my wrath boils over, and I squash you like a plum.

I left Ivanhoe in your care to nurse until his wound was healed.

And now you ride beside me as calmly as I would ride to church.

Do you infidels never show your feelings?

We are taught not to have them, my lady.

Will you see Ivanhoe in York?

I do not know, my lady.

But you hope to.

Yes, I hope to.

Does he know we quarreled over him at Ashby?

No, my lady.

Does the Jew feel jealousy?

Yes, my lady.

Then they're not so different from the Saxon after all.

Say womba!

I bid you right welcome to my keep, Sir Cedric.

Your keep?

Falkestone was cursed forever when you put your Norman foot across it.

Talk sweet as Saxon or I'll put my Norman foot across your neck.

My lord, it's Ivanhoe.

Ivanhoe? Yes, my lord.

Coming like a lamb to the butcher.

So we see his face at last.

Joachim Baer, you hold my father in his train.

This issue concerns only the two of us.

I charge you to release them and make your case with me.

What is your bargain if I let the rest go free?

I will surrender myself for fair trial before Prince John if they are no longer

your prisoners an hour from now.

Clap the dog in irons and I'm done with him.

Come forward and surrender and the rest shall go free.

By the authority conferred upon me by Prince John, you are my prisoner,

You do not fool us, Ivanhoe.

No man gives himself up to his enemies like a drunken apple woman.

What's afoot?

Are you afraid of what one unarmed man might do?

I ask a few moments alone with my father to make my peace with him.

Then let him go and take me before Prince John.

You shall see your father alone.

Take this knight to his father, but see you guard him well. Go with him to

Brassy.

I am in your debt, Bois Guilbert.

You shall repay it, I know.

Here's the old fool's pen.

Brought himself silent, it would seem.

A reunion should be touching.

Are you such a ninny that you let them catch you too?

I'm the only one they want.

Vargil Bear has pledged me that you can now go free.

And leave you here to hang?

Be still and hear me.

Loxley and his bowmen are all around us.

But you are the only leader skilled enough in siege to take this keep.

He's waiting for you.

Go to him.

I write willingly.

You went with Richard in defiance of my will, but all's forgotten, boy.

Perhaps you'll listen to me next time.

My father is ready to leave.

So he shall, when you've told us where Richard's ransom money is hidden.

Take them to the dungeons and bind them to the wall.

So this is the way you pledge your word? You cursed Normans! Mark the affair,

you shall hang for this!

I heard Ivanhoe's voice.

You did indeed, my lady.

And I hope you heard it clearly.

For I fear it will be many a long year before you hear it again.

If Prince John harms Sir Ivanhoe, may the curse of every Saxon bring ruin and

disaster upon the heads of all of you.

May death blight you as you stand and walk and ride and sleep.

Curse Prince John all you wish, my lady.

But he'll still put England's crown upon his head.

And I shall still sit at his feet while he is king.

So will you.

We are neither of us fools.

We? Yes, we.

You are the last in line of the old Saxon royalty.

And now that Cedric can never find a Saxon king for you to marry, I am by far

the most eligible of the new order.

Are you mad?

No, dear lady, only ambitious.

I have a taste for beauty and a love for money.

And you have both.

I see I shall have to mend your Saxon manners for you.

Even that will be a pleasure.

Come in, come in, Sir Ivanhoe.

We were about to tickle the old Jew into speech, but you two take precedence,

being a Saxon knight.

String him up beside the other.

Will I return?

Return fast, then, or 150 ,000 marks of silver may go a -begging.

I shall be swift.

What have you done with my father?

Frondeboeuf plays host to him as I play host to you.

May God have mercy on him, then.

We are merciful men, Rebecca, when our mercy is appealed to.

If you hold us for a price, name it. Our people will raise it if my father goes

unharmed. Your people cannot pay it.

You are the price, Rebecca, and I am the collector of the debt.

Then you are a false coward who believes in nothing, least of all your vows of

chivalry. On the contrary, my vows of chivalry be mislaid, the infidel.

But my heart is stronger than my sword.

I shall possess you, Rebecca, if I die for it.

Try to possess me and we shall both die for it. I now and you when Richard

returns to England.

You deny me because of Ivanhoe, do you not?

What would you say if he were within these walls, held captive with the rest

you?

I would despise you for a liar.

Nevertheless, he is here.

You don't believe me, do you?

How then if I say that he came alone, delivering himself as a hostage for his

father, and that we took him without violence?

Still not enough?

How then if the bandage on the shoulder of his shield arm were of fine linen?

And if the linen were fastened with a golden pin?

I believe you.

Then believe this also.

He cannot save you.

But you can save him.

Not by dying, but by living.

If you die, so does he and all the rest.

There are many ways of dying.

And this is the basis.

You mistake the nature of our bargain, Rebecca.

I want you alive, not dead.

When next I come to you, meet me with desire in your breast and fire in your

lips, or no man's life is saved.

The fire's at white heat, my lord.

Tell us where the ransom's hidden and I'll soften your dying. I'll make it

instead of slow. If you harm him, you Norman dog, every Saxon in England will

avenge his blood.

Have you ever seen half a beef turning on a spit?

I've seen whole traitors. Well basted, they drip a rich red gravy.

I command you, deliver up the captives that you hold or suffer siege and

This demand we make but once.

Shall we hire him for a jester or hang him for a Saxon lout? Get you gone from

here before we flay you. for your empty boasting.

I'll show you how emptily I boast.

Where's your laughter, Norman?

Does my jest fall flat?

Another blast on that confounded horn and even the trees will come alive.

Have you men enough to hold the keep against them?

Against that rabble? Twice as many as I need.

I doubt it.

That rabble's drunk with hate of us.

Then let us feed their hate.

Bring Ivanhoe to the battlement.

You have it, Saxon. Look you.

One false move and your night shall hang before your eyes.

Now take your men and get you gone.

Hold fast, Loxley.

In the name of Richard, attack and wipe them out.

Why waste good rope?

This is how we deliver up the captives that we hold.

Here comes the first.

Cut me loose or I take your master to his death. Cut nothing or I'll cut your

throats. If he has me, I also have him.

The buffs are brave enough, fool.

Too brave to lose.

Cut him loose.

I order it.

Blast the dog! I lost him! We'll catch him soon enough. Look for your men.

under siege.

Turn the alarm!

Up drawbridge! Down Port Cullis!

Trumpet! Sound every man to post!

Armour and sword!

How goes it with us?

Blacksley's attacking.

Show me your Norman throat.

Can Saxons fight?

I'll take it.

from the drawbridge gate.

Keep the fire.

This time men must go where arrows went before. Can you take the barbican?

What, that dog, Kevin?

Single -handed. Take it, then. They can't fight fire and tactics.

Keep up!

Keep up with your men and stamp that fire out.

Wait, we need your men here. Then I'll do it myself. Who the hell?

What next, Milord? Our women next. Where's Rowena?

Close to the cell they locked me in. And Rebecca?

We must look for her.

No! Look for me, and look your last.

in the boulder.

Thank you.

We've lost the castle.

It's the end of us all.

Not yet. There's one chance left. Not a noble one, but our last. We could force

our way through their ranks on horseback.

Run before them, we too.

We four.

We'll use the women as our shields.

The castle's in plague.

Follow me, milady. Your life's in danger here. I'll lose it before I follow you.

This is no time for lovers' quarrels. It ought to be roast to knives.

Why make the use? Turn and defend yourself, de Brassy.

Torquil Stone is lost. And you are our only prisoner, infidel.

Your pardon, my liege. My prisoner. Our prisoner.

My liege. Why, Gilbert, I charge you to return to your keep until my plans are

made and I send for you again.

And what of my prisoner? She will remain within these walls.

My liege, I must... You have our leave to go hence.

Peter Torkelson can still be twisted to advantage, Your Highness.

What, with the castle burned, the good birth dead, and Ivanhoe running loose

again, gathering that infernal ransom with both hands? And the maid Rebecca in

your hands.

A sorceress, taught by a witch who was burnt at the stake.

You believe that nonsense?

But your people shall.

I think you have the spade with which to bury Richard at last.

needs more wealth for Richard's ransom.

We are the new rich, my lord. We bank for the Normans and lend to the Saxons.

Ah, from a Norman who has no further use for it. He plays a harp instead.

And this from his lady, who gave everything she had to the poor. Bless

generous nature.

Disclose no more former owners, you villain, lest my name be among them.

Is this enough yet?

Not yet.

From the people of Israel, 100 ,000 marks of silver.

So do we fulfill our part of the pledge to ransom Richard.

100 ,000 marks of silver in that scrap of nothing?

We need help for Richard that a man can see and touch.

That scrap of nothing is not nothing, my lord.

There are merchants in Vienna who owe sums to our people in York.

These writings call on our debtors to pay what they owe in Austrian gold.

And can you also convert this weighty trash to writings?

It shall be done.

My son!

Have you news of Rebecca?

Aye, at last.

Isaac, prepare your heart for evil tidings.

Prince John holds your daughter captive in the royal castle at Walling.

What is the charge against her?

I do not know.

But you have 40 days in which to find the ransom.

100 ,000 marks of silver, the very sum you give to Richard.

Can you raise as much again?

John knew that when he named the sum.

Then use what you have to free Rebecca.

We'll search again to find the ransom.

We lose a king or you lose your child.

Your will is ours, Isaac.

My will is God's.

Free the king.

Richard would not accept his throne at such a price.

My daughter does not die to save Richard's throne, Sir Ivanhoe.

She dies to save her people.

Then I pledge my word to put all else aside until she's free again.

But the ransom, who will take it to Austria?

You will, sire.

Aye, that I will.

Why are you so pale?

Are you afraid for me?

I shall only know that when Rebecca is free.

That'll be soon.

But will Ivanhoe still be Ivanhoe?

A man torn is two men.

I will still be Ivanhoe.

Perhaps and perhaps not.

The choice is yours, Ivanhoe. Not mine and not Rebecca's.

Do you think I go to her aid because I love her?

I shall know that when I know where...

Pity ends and love begins.

I am afraid, Ivanhoe.

And I am jealous.

Going for you.

Eyes, infidel, so that the court may gaze upon your face.

The infidel Rebecca of York stands accused of the foul crimes of sorcery

black magic.

Let our trial begin.

The witness, Roger of Bernsley, a soldier at arms.

Tell the court what you know of this woman.

At the castle of Torkelston.

With my own eyes I saw this accused perched up on the highest parapet of the

tower. With my own ears I heard her call upon the powers of darkness.

Forthwith she was changed into a black swan which three times circled the

and returned to the tower.

And was again this accused.

My lord, the tribunal will address you when fitting night.

Until then, be you silent or quit this court.

I draw my wage, my lords, as servant to Isaac of York in Sheffield town.

Some nights past I heard the sound of chanting and I looked through a keyhole.

Through this did I see the body of a knight lying dead on a pallet.

Above him crouched this evil spirit, speaking in a soft tongue and...

Lo, the night stirred and came back to life again.

Can you name this night?

The name Sir Wilfred of Ivanhoe was spoken, and he rose and replied as alive

me. You may go.

Forgive me, lady, but make me say it.

The words of Sir Brian de Bois Gilbert to the accused were these.

I confess to living under a spell.

Who could cast it so well as you?

Who could bind me so fast except a sorceress?

Did the witch reply?

Only by the use of her evil powers, which cast a palsy into the knight's

and drove him from her presence.

My lord, he lies. This woman is no more a witch than you or I.

What further proof do you need than that, sire, of the knight's bewitchment?

I lend my sanction to this inquiry with a heavy heart, but a duty seen must be

discharged.

Like a plague passing from hand to hand, so the scourge of witchcraft spreads

across this land, even to men in other lands.

Aye, even to my brother Richard.

Aye,

Richard, long sought by me and long thought dead has been found, but better

far he had died.

for he has fallen into the hands of sorcerers and idolaters.

Consider this.

If one of their tribe can so deprave a man like the Saxon Ivanhoe and a man

the Norman Bois Gilbert, what has the whole tribe done to Richard, who is also

man?

They found him, and with their accursed gold, they bought his freedom and his

soul.

Now he will try to return to these shores, but he is no longer the Richard

left them.

He is a man seduced and bewitched. In league with the infidel against England

anew, never was a king more cheaply bought.

I say, save England without spilling one drop of English blood.

For as the servant of the Jews, who would call Richard English?

I say, burn this infidel. And with the same torch, drive her people into the

and Richard with them.

The justice of this court now allows the prisoner to speak in her own defense.

I was taught healing by Miriam of Manassas.

That is true.

But I have always sought to use that skill in the service of man to relieve

pain.

If this convicts me of witchcraft and with me my people, then may God have

on every man who seeks mercy and justice from his fellow men.

For the only merciful power in this world is death.

And the only justice is beyond the grave.

I am innocent.

My lords, before the prisoner convicts herself out of her own mouth, I demand

the right to address her before the court.

Shall I refuse? No, let him speak.

Your request is granted by the court, Sir Knight.

This court long ago closed its eyes and ears to your fate, Rebecca.

You will be found guilty.

and you will be delivered up to be burnt at the stake, and the ashes of your

body will be scattered to the four winds.

I pray my people will not be ashamed of the way I die.

The trial cannot be halted, but the sentence can.

When charged, confess.

To what?

Crimes I have not committed? No matter what the crime, confess and ask for

pardon. They must grant it on one condition, that you renounce the faith

Israel.

I would not live in the world you offer.

It is neither sun nor moon, nor air to breathe.

It has no faith, no love, no honor.

When you leave it, I think it will have no life.

Enough. You waste the time of the court. Proceed.

It is the solemn judgment of this court that Rebecca of York be pronounced a

witch, infected with satanic powers, and guilty of demoniacal arts.

For this, we abandon her to her punishment.

Death by fire.

Hold, my lords!

I, Wilfred of Ivanhoe, do challenge the judgment of this tribunal.

In the name of the accused, I demand that her guilt or innocence be

in the eyes of God by wager of battle.

Learning judge, instruct me if this wager of battle is mandatory upon the

It is, sire. An appeal to the judgment of God cannot be denied by common or

canon law unless the accused rejects the offer of championship.

What says the accused?

I accept the offer with all my heart.

May the court choose its own champion.

It may, sir.

Sir Brian de Bois -Gilbert, you shall accept this challenge on behalf of the

court.

I do humbly accept the honor bestowed upon me.

to uphold the mercy and justice of my prince by wager of battle.

Court so orders.

On the third day hence, let the wager of battle be fought in the lists at Ashby.

To the death.

As master of the lists, I hereby charge ye that if either competent violate the

laws of chivalry, I will cry foul craven, and upon the casting of my

to the ground, the offender shall instantly be slain by the royal bowmen.

Rebecca, once I enter these lists in combat, I must maintain my name in arms.

And if I do so, Ivanhoe dies quickly, and then you, in such pain as they say,

in store for the guilty hereafter.

If I withdraw now, Ivanhoe wins by default, and you both will live, while I

shall fall from grace, a degraded knight without fame and without honor.

All this I would endure if you would say, Voix Gilbert, I turn from Ivanhoe

you.

We are all in God's hands, Sir Knight.

Then count your life by seconds, a Saxon's life as well.

Since you ride for the court, Burgilbear, choose first.

What arm do you elect to bear?

I bear mason chain this day.

Your foe declares for class combat.

This denies to you the lance.

Therefore, elect from axe or blade.

I choose the axe.

Come here then, valiant sirs, and to your stations.

May God defend the right.

Lest you strike home.

God spare you.

You must blame the fates that it was I who loved you and not Sir Ivan Howe.

But you were always mine.

And only mine.

God keep you.

Milady, in death he spoke the truth.

You still love Ivanhoe?

No, Milady.

I stole a little happiness, perhaps.

But not from him.

Or you.

Only from my dreams.

His heart was always yours.

Before me kneels a nation divided.

Rise as one man, and that one for England.