At the time when King Richard, of the Lion Heart, was absent from his country, and a prisoner in the power of the perfidious and cruel Duke of Austria, there lived in England a highborn Saxon, named Cedric. He was one of the few native princes who still continued to occupy the home of his fathers; but, like many more of the conquered English people, he had felt the tyranny and oppressive insolence of the haughty Norman barons. He was a man of great personal strength, possessed of a hasty and choleric temper, but he had shrewdly refrained from showing any open hostility to the successors of the Conqueror; and so contrived to maintain his ancient state in his mansion at Rotherwood, while many others in a similar situation had been compelled to give up their homes and properties to the supporters of the Norman invader.

He had an only son, Wilfred by name, with whom he had quarrelled; and the young man, finding himself disinherited, had adopted the profession of a champion of the Cross, and sailed away to Palestine with the army of the Crusaders.

One evening, in the autumn of the year, Cedric was about to sit down to supper in the old hall at Rotherwood, when the blast of a horn was heard at his gate. In a few minutes after, a warder announced that the Prior Aymer, of Jorvaulx, and the good knight Brian de Bois-Guilbert, commander of the valiant order of Knights Templars, with a small retinue, requested hospitality and lodging for the night, being on their way to a tournament which was to be held not far from Ashby-de-la-Zouche.

"Normans both," muttered Cedric; "but they are welcome to the hospitality of Rotherwood. Admit them."

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."