All language subtitles for Ivanhoe.english

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.

Who are you?
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.

Or this knife will pluck them out
and cast them to the crows.

Do you remember what you saw?

I have forgotten every syllable.

"Prince John...

... and certain Norman knights. "

"Certain Norman knights. "

These glades go on forever.

I hope we find shelter before nightfall,
Bois-Guilbert.

What do you fear, De Bracy,
Saxon hobgoblins?

No, a 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.

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

The right will take you to Ashby.

- 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 by the road.

- 'Tis a fine night.
- To be butchered in one's sleep.

- Would you sooner walk into a Saxon trap?
- What is this house you speak of?

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. 'Tis the same Cedric.

He loves us not, but we would
sleep safe beneath his roof.

- You know the way?
- Well enough to lead.

Then lead us, but one false step
and you'll sing a different song.

I have a song to fit every occasion.

- He means he'll lop your head off, minstrel.
- Yes, sire, I knew what he meant.

- Now, Locksley, while they're in range.
- Peace, hothead. Would you slay lvanhoe?

- Ivanhoe died in the Holy Land.
- The troubadour is lvanhoe.

He takes those Normans to his father's.

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

He would never go back,
unless he's turned traitor to the Saxons.

Put down your bows.

I'll know why he takes those Normans
to his father before I'll believe ill...

... of Sir lvanhoe or Cedric.
And so shall you, you rattle-pate.

By your leave, milord, two knights
do 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 and depart in peace,
or else depart in pieces.

Elgitha, tell the lady Rowena I do not
desire her presence here tonight.

But she is pining for news
from the Holy Land.

When she hears they are Normans,
she'll want none of their news.

Tell her to keep to her chambers
till we're quit of them tomorrow.

Sir Brian De Bois-Guilbert
and Sir Hugh De Bracy, milord.

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.

Take me to the Lady Rowena.

Who is there?

A sort of fool, milady.

Come in, Wamba.
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.

Ivanhoe.

- Oh, 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 hands 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 nor an hour
when your hand was not in mine.

Why are you crying?

I'm... 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 kissed 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 knelt 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.

- Ivanhoe, 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 below.

I cannot hood them single-handed.
I need aid.

- What help can I be?
- Come and draw them out.

These are John's friends.
If my father will help me...

... I can trick them into telling
what they know.

And if he will not help you?

Then, indeed, I have no father.

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, milord.
- Delayed? How so?

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, milord.

We are bound for combat against your
Saxon knights at Ashby, three days hence.

- Not for any Saxon lady's 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?

Milord, 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...

... l'll show you a Christian
who's not a Christian.

Why should my guests be subject
to your prejudices...

... when they have not been subject to
my own? Bid this traveler enter in peace.

I come in peace, milord.

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, milord.

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

Because, sir knight, we Saxons have learned
to hide our light under a bushel.

Are we condemned never to pay homage
to her?

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:

Saxon, Norman, Dane or Celt.

Then pay me your homage, sir...

... and let me be the judge of its gallantry.

We pay you homage, milady.

But it must be silent homage,
for words would fail it...

... just as they have failed my friend,
and all but 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, milady.

What is the news from the Holy Land?

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

The war has ended
in a truceless truce once more...

... and Richard vanished upon the wind
that once made up the better part of him.

Richard should've stayed at home
and kept England...

... and left Jerusalem to be lost
by knights like you...

... who lost it anyway.

Are you for Richard, milord, 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?

That's another Norman question.
Shall I answer it for you, milord?

No, I would have my questions
answered first. Sir knight...

... I believe there were tournaments
between Saxon and Norman knights...

... to prove which was more valiant.
- Aye, milady, in the Holy Land.

The Saxons were at last taught
to bow to their 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 Bracy.

And another, Bois-Guilbert.

True, milady. I blush, but I admit it.

I can still feel the dust in my mouth.
Is it out of your teeth yet, Guilbert?

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

And who was this bumpkin of a knight?

He named himself Wilfred of lvanhoe.

- Ivanhoe?
- Aye, milady.

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
upon his shield.

I shall know him by that,
if we ever meet again.

- And why did he vanish, sire?
- 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.

Then I give you the challenge that lvanhoe
would give to you were he here, sir knight.

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

And you, milord.

Will you drink to his honor too?

To lvanhoe.

- To lvanhoe.
- To lvanhoe.

Why this Saxon passion
for a stranger, milady?

Lvanhoe 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've brought me.
What do you want of me?

- Your hand first, sire.
- I do not give it.

Milord, 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.
- He is alive...

... held by Leopold of Austria.

It's all here in his hand.
Read it yourself.

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

As those two Norman knights in your castle
could testify, if you put them to the sword.

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 England.
- You could 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.

- You'll leave your king to rot, then?
- I'll leave him to mad, wild fools like you...

... who can do 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.

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

Begone from here within the hour.

What will you do now?

Follow Bois-Guilbert to Ashby
and meet him in the lists.

Be cautious, lvanhoe.

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.

Sir lvanhoe, I heard an old bear
and a young bear growling.

Which one 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.

What... ?

Help! Help!

Bind them together, Wamba.

How badly are you hurt?

Only a little.

My home, Sheffield town...

... I want to go back there at once.
- Alone at night? You'd perish.

Even so, I must go back to Sheffield.

Then I shall take you there.

I've trussed them up,
like capons.

Bring our horses and meet me
in the courtyard.

- But, Sir lvanhoe, I have no horse.
- Then steal one.

A gentleman at last and my first task
is to steal a horse.

Take quarters at the sign of the longbow.
I'll join you.

- Master. Master.
- Enough, enough.

All's well with me. Let us in.

- Are you recovered?
- 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 "lvanhoe. "

But lvanhoe 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 foe, 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 of Austria.

Glance around you, sire.
What you see is all we've saved...

... from every home we tried to make.

A toy or two from every land
that cast us out.

I am not a rich man, Sir lvanhoe.

No, but you are the patriarch
of your tribe.

Tell your people Richard must be ransomed.
They will find the wealth.

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.

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.

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.
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, sire,
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 weather vane...

... to test the strength of John.

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

Badly, sire. Money takes fright
when might conquers right.

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

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

A horse and gear would borrow
from the ransom.

Then I'll seek them elsewhere.

You'll find me at the sign
of the longbow.

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 lvanhoe.

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 Wamba the serf
To Wamba the squire

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

Then off come your shackles.

Oh, no. Make sure it's the shackles,
not my head.

There.

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

Oh, 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 around 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, milady, 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.

If these are Isaac's, he would have given
them to me before I left.

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 at 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 already.
- Then I reward you again.

If you change your mind, in fear, to ride
at Ashby, give these back to me.

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.

Give this lady escort
to the house of Isaac.

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, Your Highness.
- Aye, the Saxons are poor losers, Fitzurse.

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.

Black from hoof to plume,
the ill-omened knave.

He'll soon be bright with blood,
Your Highness.

The madman. He defies all five!

Bash him quickly, Malvoisin.

By all that's wonderful, I almost see myself
grown young again, Rowena.

He reminds me much
of a certain pupil of mine.

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

By holy St. Dunstan,
our champion pays homage to the Jews.

No, milord...

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

I think I know that knight, 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?

Nay.

I approve.

But only of the gift.

Aye.

Hide that face from every man, save me.

His taste in women is a glove
in every Saxon face.

Now let Sir Ralph throw him,
and his shame's complete.

Front De Boeuf, the field is all yours.

I shall follow you to glory.

Follow with a basket, then.

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

If you could tear your eyes
from your light of love, Guilbert...

... 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?

Oh, rich. Oh, richly done.

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

I would she were.

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
again. Guard your charges with your life...

... until they're safe in York.
- I will.

Go, then, at once.

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

- No one here.
- What did you expect?

They had wind of us and flew the trap,
your ladybird with them.

They'll not have flown far.

- I've traced Isaac and his daughter.
- Where are they?

On the way to Rotherwood
under Cedric's protection.

- And lvanhoe?
- Fled to the forest with Locksley's rebels.

Then we take the father first.

- Take Cedric and rouse all Saxon England?
- John gave me full powers. I'll use them.

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

- Assemble the men. We ride at once.
- Aye.

Guilbert.

- 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.
- Touched, milord.

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

Out of my sight before my wrath boils over
and I squash you like a plum!

I left lvanhoe 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, milady.

Will you see lvanhoe in York?

I do not know, milady.

But you hope to.

Yes, I hope to.

Does he know we quarreled
over him at Ashby?

No, milady.

Does a Jew feel jealousy?

Yes, milady.

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

Death to the Norman dogs!

God save England!

God save Wamba.

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

Your keep. Torquilstone was cursed forever
when you put your Norman foot across it.

Talk sweeter, Saxon, or I'll put my
Norman foot across your neck!

A horseman approaching from the south!

Milord, it's lvanhoe.

- Ivanhoe.
- Yes, milord.

Coming like a lamb to the butcher.

So we see his face at last.

Bois-Guilbert, you hold my father
and 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'll surrender for fair trial before Prince John
if they are no longer prisoners in an hour.

Clap the dog in irons
and have done with him.

Come forward and surrender,
and the rest shall go free.

By the authority conferred upon me
by Prince John, you're my prisoner, lvanhoe.

You do not fool us, lvanhoe.

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 time alone with my father
to make my peace with him.

- Let him go and take me before Prince John.
- You shall see your father alone.

Take this knight to his father,
but guard him well. Go with him, De Bracy.

- I am in your debt, Bois-Guilbert.
- You shall repay it, lvanhoe.

Here's the old bull's pen.

He's roared himself silent, it would seem.

Show your head,
and I'll knock it off your neck!

A reunion should be touching.

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

I'm the only one they want.

- Bois-Guilbert pledged that you can go free.
- And leave you here to hang?

Be still and hear me. Locksley
and his bowmen are all around us...

... but you're the only leader skilled
in siege to take this keep.

He's waiting for you. Go to him.

Aye, right willingly.

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

Perhaps you'll listen 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.
- This is the way you pledge your word!

You cursed Norman!
Bois-Guilbert, you shall hang for this!

Lvanhoe! Lvanhoe!

I heard lvanhoe's voice.

You did indeed, milady.

And I hope you heard it clearly.

It'll be many a long year
before you hear it again.

If Prince John harms Sir lvanhoe...

... may the curse of every Saxon bring ruin
and disaster upon the heads of you all.

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

Curse Prince John all you wish, but he'll
still put England's crown upon his head.

And I shall sit at his feet
when he's king.

So will you. We are neither of us fools.

- We?
- Yes, we.

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

Now that Cedric can't 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 lvanhoe.

We were about to tickle
the old Jew into speech...

... but you'll take precedence, being a Saxon
knight. String him up beside the other.

- Delay the questioning till I return.
- Return fast...

... or 150,000 marks of silver may go.
- I shall be swift.

What have you done with my father?

Front De Boeuf 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 is 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
bid me slay 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 lvanhoe,
do you not?

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

I would despise you for a liar.

Nevertheless, he is here.

You don't believe me, do you?

How, then, if I say he came delivering
himself as a hostage for his father...

... and 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 basest.

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...

... or no man's life is saved.

The fire's at white heat, milord.

Tell us where the ransom's hidden,
and I'll make your dying fast instead of slow.

If you harm him, you Norman dog...

... every Saxon in England
will avenge his blood.

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 attack!

This demand, we make but once!

Shall we hire him for a jester
or hang him for a 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 horn
and even the trees will come alive.

- Have you men enough to hold the keep?
- 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 lvanhoe to the battlement.

Cut him down.

Ready arrows!

I'll have your answer, Normans!

You have it, Saxon! Look, you.

One false move, and your knight shall hang
before your eyes.

Now, take your men and get you gone.

Hold fast, Locksley! 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.

De Boeuf's a brave enough fool.

Too brave to lose.

Cut him loose!

I order it!

Away arrows!

After him!

- Blast! I lost him!
- We'll catch him soon.

- Look to your men. We're under siege.
- Sound the alarm!

Up drawbridge! Down portcullis!
Trumpets, sound every man to post!

Armor and swords!
To the drawbridge!

How goes it with us?

Locksley's attacking.

Show me a Norman throat.

Can Saxons fight?

- All day and through the night!
- All day and through the night!

It works for us! Feed it! Keep it going!

Hold!

Forward!

They're going to charge us
from the drawbridge gate.

Stand ready with your bows!

- Corked in like cider in a jug, eh?
- And now to burst the jug.

To the walls!

The keep's afire.

This time, men must go
where arrows went before.

- Can you take the barbican?
- What, that dog kennel? Single-handed.

Take it, then.
They can't fight fire and Saxons.

De Boeuf!

- Take 12 men and stamp that fire out.
- Hold!

- The fire must wait. We need your men.
- Then I'll do it myself, with two to help.

- 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!

Make ready the boulders!

Away!

Rowena.

Come on! Hurry!

Faster! Faster! Ram!

Faster! Ram!

Ram! Ram!

The barbican's fallen. We've lost
the castle. It's the end of us all.

There's one chance left.
Not noble, but our last.

We could force through on horseback.

- Run before them, we two?
- We four. We use the women as our shields.

Come with me quickly!
The castle's in flames!

- Follow me. You're in danger.
- I'll die before I'll follow you.

No time for lovers' quarrels.
You will roast.

- Why make me use...
- Turn and defend yourself, De Bracy!

Enough. I cry quarter.

Where have you hidden Rebecca?

I fear you'll be too late.

Bois-Guilbert has fled with her.

Down drawbridge!

Hold your arrows! The maid's with him!

So Torquilstone is lost,
and you are our only prisoner, infidel.

Your pardon, my liege. My prisoner.

- Our prisoner.
- But, my liege...

Return to your keep until my plans are made
and I send for you again.

- What of my prisoner?
- She will remain within these walls.

- My liege...
- You have our leave to go hence.

Your defeat at Torquilstone can still be
twisted to advantage, Your Highness.

With the castle burned,
the good Boeuf dead...

... and lvanhoe running loose,
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.

- And you believe that nonsense?
- No, but your people shall.

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

Who needs more wealth
for Richard's ransom?

We're the new rich, milord.

We bank for the Normans
and lend to the Saxons.

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 her 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.

One hundred thousand 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, milord.

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.

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 Wallingford.

What is the charge against her?

I do not know. But you have 40 days
in which to find the ransom.

One hundred thousand 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 lvanhoe.

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 will be soon.

But will lvanhoe still be lvanhoe?

A man torn is two men.

I will still be lvanhoe.

Perhaps, and perhaps not.

The choice is yours, lvanhoe,
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, lvanhoe...

... and I am jealous.

Go and free her.

Farewell.

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

The infidel, Rebecca of York,
stands accused of the foul crimes...

... of sorcery and black magic.

Let her trial begin.

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

Tell the court what you know
of this woman.

At the castle of Torquilstone...

... with my own eyes I saw this accused
perched 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 castle
and returned to the tower...

... and was again this accused!

- My lord!
- The tribunal will address you...

... when fitting, knight. Until then,
be you silent or quit this court!

I draw my wage, milords, 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 I saw the body of a knight
lying dead on a pallet.

Above him crouched this evil spirit...

... speaking in a soft tongue...

... and lo, the knight stirred
and came back to life again.

Can you name this knight?

The name Sir Wilfred of lvanhoe
was spoken...

... and he rose and replied as alive as me.

You may go.

Forgive me, milady! They made me say it!

The words of Sir Brian De Bois-Guilbert
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 hand...

... 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
of the knight's bewitchment?

I lent 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.

- No!
- No!

Aye, Richard, long sought by me
and long thought dead, has been found.

But better by far that 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 lvanhoe...

... and a man like the Norman
Bois-Guilbert...

... what has the whole tribe done to Richard,
who is also a 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 who left.

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

Never was a king more cheaply bought.

- No!
- No!

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 sea and Richard with them.

- No!
- No!

Justice of this court
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 his pain.

If this convicts me of witchcraft,
and with me, my people...

... then may God pity 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.

Milords, 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 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, confess and ask for pardon.

They must grant it on one condition:

That you renounce the faith of Israel.

I would not live in the world you offer.

It has 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, milords!

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

I demand that her guilt or innocence...

... be determined in the eyes of God
by wager of battle.

Instruct me if this wager of battle
is mandatory upon the court.

It is, sire. An appeal
to God's judgment...

... 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, sire.

Sir Brian De Bois-Guilbert, 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 combatant violate
the laws of chivalry...

... I will cry, "Foul craven!" And upon
the casting of my truncheon 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, lvanhoe dies quickly...

... and then you in such pain as they say
is in store for the guilty hereafter.

If I withdraw now, lvanhoe 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:

"Bois-Guilbert, I turn from lvanhoe to you. "

We are all in God's hands, sir knight.

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

Since you ride for the court, Bois-Guilbert,
choose first.

- What arm do you elect to bear?
- I bear mace and chain this day.

Your foe declares for close combat.

This denies to you the lance.

Therefore, elect from ax or blade.

I choose the ax.

Arm you, then, valiant sirs,
and to your stations.

May God defend the right.

May God defend the right!

Beware, Saxon, lest you strike horse!

Lvanhoe, God spare you.

Rebecca.

You must blame the Fates that it was
I who loved you and not Sir lvanhoe.

But you were always mine...

... and only mine.

God keep you.

Milady, in death he spoke the truth.

You still love lvanhoe?

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!

Long live England!
Long live England!