Ivanhoe

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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,

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.

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