Ivanhoe Page #2

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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...

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