All language subtitles for Iva

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.

♪ My heart was a lion ♪

♪ But now it is chained ♪

♪ Far do I travel ♪

♪ And with travel I'm staying ♪

♪ I travel ♪

♪ I travel in search ♪

♪ Of my heart ♪

♪ I vowed me a vow ♪

♪ And I pledge this to be ♪

♪ Far will I travel ♪

♪ Until thou art free ♪

♪ I travel ♪

♪ I travel in search ♪

♪ Of my heart ♪

♪ My heart was a lion ♪

♪ But now it is chained ♪

♪ Far do I travel ♪

♪ And with travel I'm staying ♪♪

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, 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 road side.

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, minstrel?

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 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 he'll lop your
head off, minstrel.

Yes, sire, I knew what he meant.

Now, Locksley, now,
while they're still in range.

Peace, you, hothead. Would
you slay Sir Ivanhoe? Hmm?

Sir Ivanhoe died
in the Holy Land.

The troubadour is Ivanhoe.

He takes those Normans
to his father's keep.

Ivanhoe defied his father
when he went to the war.

Sir 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 believe I" of
Sir Ivanhoe or Cedric.

And so shall you,
you rattle-pate.

Hmm.

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
in peace and depart in peace,

or else depart in pieces.

Elgitha, tell the lady Rowena

I do not desire her
presence here tonight.

But, milord, 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'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...

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... 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 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?

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?

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, milord.

We are bound for trial
by 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

I'll 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, 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 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 light 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 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
truce less truce once more

and Richard the lion
hearted has 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, milord?

Oh-ho-oh! That's
another Norman question.

Shall I answer
it for you, milord?

No, I would have my
questions answered first.

Sir knight, I believe
that there were tournaments

between the Saxon
and the Norman knights

to prove which was
the 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 Ivanhoe.

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 again.

Then I give you
the challenge that Ivanhoe

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 Ivanhoe.

- Ivanhoe.
- Ivanhoe.

Why this Saxon passion
for a stranger, milady?

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've
brought me here.

What do you want of me?

Your hand first, sire.

I do not give it to you.

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.
- 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
to 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.

Milord!

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-Guilbert to Ashby
and meet him in the lists.

Be cautious, Ivanhoe.

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 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.

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 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 Ivanhoe, like capons.

Bring our horses
from the stables.

Meet me in the courtyard.

But Sir Ivanhoe,
I have no horse.

Then steal one.

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

Take quarters for us
at the sign of the longbow.

I'll join you there.

- 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 "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 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 Ivanhoe.

No, but you are the
patriarch of your tribe.

Tell your people that Richard
must be ransomed

and they will find
the wealth to 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, 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 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 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 Ivanhoe.

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 Ivanhoe,
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.

Ha!

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 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, 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
for that already.

Then I reward you again.

If you change your mind
in fear to ride at Ashby,

then 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, Sir Ivanhoe.

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 list?

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, 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 Front De Boeuf throw
him, and his shame's complete.

Front De Boeuf, the field
is all yours, my boy.

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 Ivanhoe?
- Yeah.

And you would've had
me shoot him down. Remember?

Why, blast me a thunder!
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 the laws of chivalry,
you've earned the right

this stage 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?

Oh, forget him, Your Highness.

His strutting cannot harm you.

- You're too well-loved.
- Wake up, Fitzurse.

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, and see that
his wounds are cared for.

Then come at ones
and 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 here.

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 Ivanhoe.

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

and he will be tended there.

Then we'll 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.

Holder! Hundebert! The horses!

Roast your liver.

To the confusion and confounding

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 holy strength
go down like chaff

beneath an unknown Saxon
mountebank?

Neither a mountebank
nor yet unknown.

I rode against that Saxon 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, sniffing
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 Jews
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.

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 Ivanhoe

no matter what it costs.

- You shall have him, my liege.
- Then 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, Ivanhoe...

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.

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 wound,
Sir Ivanhoe.

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 the ransom is paid?

And you said
you loved not England.

Locksley seeks word with you,
sire.

Sir Ivanhoe, Prince John's
jackals are upon you heels.

They know it is you
and that Isaac has aided you

And John's sent Bois-Guilbert
here to seize all of you.

- Will you be safe in York?
- Yes, Sir Ivanhoe.

- Then get you there.
- And fast.

They'll break down
every door in Sheffield.

Not every door. Not Cedric's.

Or he'll bring the roof
about their ears.

Cedric here in Sheffield?

Yes, sire, 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 charges
with your life

until you see them safe in York.

- I will, Sir Ivanhoe.
- Go, then, at once.

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

- There's no one here either.
- What did you expect?

They had wind of us
and flown the trap

your ladybird with them.

They'll not have flown far.

Milord, I've 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 Locksley's rebels.

Then we must
take the father first.

Take Cedric and rouse
all Saxon England?

John gave me full powers
and I shall use them.

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

Assemble the men at arms.
We ride at once.

- Aye, milord.
- 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 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,
milady.

Will you see Ivanhoe 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 Ivanhoe.

- 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 myself

for fair trial
before Prince John

if they are no longer
your prisoners

an hour from now.

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 are my prisoner, Ivanhoe.

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 moment 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, De Bracy.

I am in your debt,
Bois-Guilbert.

You shall repay it, Ivanhoe.

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 has pledged me
that you now 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 enough 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
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!

Bois-Guilbert,
you shall hang for this!

Ivanhoe! Ivanhoe!

I heard Ivanhoe's voice.

You did indeed, milady.

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,
milady,

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.

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 should take precedence,
being a Saxon knight.

String him up beside the other.

Delay the questioning
till I return.

Return fast then or 150,000

marks of silver
may go abegging.

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 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

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 Ivanhoe,
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
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 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

and fire on your lips
or no man's life is saved.

The fire's at quite heat,
milord.

Tell us where the ransom's
hidden, and I'll soften

your dying, I'll make it fast
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 attack!

This demand, we make but once!

Shall we hire him for a jester
or hang him for Saxon 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 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.

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 the dog! I lost him!
- We'll catch him soon enough.

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 wall!

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 of your men
and stamp that fire out.

Hold!

The fire must wait.
We need your men here.

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!

Oh!

Aah!

Rowena.

Come on! Hurry!

Faster! Faster! Ram! Ram!

Faster! Ram!

Ram! Ram!

The barbican's fallen.
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 away through
their ranks on horse back.

- 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, milady.
Your life's in danger here.

I'll lose it
before I'll follow you.

This no time
for another's quarrel.

You don't want to be
roast alive.

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...

Bois-Guilbert, I charge you
to attend 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 know...

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 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.

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.

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 her generous nature.

Disclose no more former owners,
you villains,

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.

And, uh, 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 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 will 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.

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 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 castle

and returned to the tower

and was again this accused!

Milord!

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
did 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 Ivanhoe
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.

Milord, 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 lent my sanction to this
inquiry with a heavy heart

but the 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.

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
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 them.

He is a man
seduced and bewitched,

in league with the infidel
against England.

And you 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
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 his pain.

If this convicts me
of witchcraft,

and with me, my people

then may God have pity
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.

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 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
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 Ivanhoe,

do challenge the judgment
of this tribunal.

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

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

Learned Judge, instruct me
if this wager of battle

is mandatory upon the court.

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, 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,
Ivanhoe dies quickly

and then you in such pain
as they say

is 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,

"Bois-Guilbert,
I turn from Ivanhoe 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 axe
or blade.

I choose the axe.

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!

Ivanhoe, God spare you.

Rebecca.

You must blame the fates
that it was I who loved you

and not Sir Ivanhoe.

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!

Long live England!
Long live England!