The noble guests were ushered in shortly after, accompanied by their attendants, and Cedric bade them welcome to his hall.
When the repast was about to begin, the steward, suddenly raising his wand, said aloud: "Forbear! Place for the Lady Rowena." As he spoke a side-door at the upper end of the hall opened, and Rowena, the fair and stately ward of Cedric, followed by four female attendants, entered the apartment. All stood up to receive her, and replying to their courtesy by a mute gesture of salutation, she moved gracefully forward to assume her place at the board, while the eyes of Brian de Bois-Guilbert seemed to be riveted by the striking beauty of her face.
As the banquet went on, conversation was interrupted by the entrance of a page, who announced that there was a stranger at the gate imploring admittance and hospitality.
"Admit him," said Cedric, "be he who or what he may."
The page retired; and returning shortly after, whispered into the ear of his master:
"It is a Jew, who calls himself Isaac of York."
"St. Mary!" said the abbot, crossing himself, "an unbelieving Jew, and admitted into this presence!"
"A dog Jew," echoed the Templar, "to approach a defender of the
Holy Sepulchre!"
"Peace, my worthy guests," said Cedric; "my hospitality must not be bounded by your dislikes. Let him have a board and a morsel apart."
Introduced with little ceremony, and advancing with fear and hesitation, and many a bow of deep humility, a tall thin old man, with an aquiline nose and piercing black eyes, approached the lower end of the board. Cedric nodded coldly in answer to his repeated salutations, and signed to him to take a place at the lower end of the table, where, however, no one offered to make room for him.