Part 87 (1/2)
”That is unlucky, indeed,” said Nicholas. ”But we can defeat any ill design they may intend, by acquainting Sir John Finett with the circ.u.mstance.”
”Let them be,” said a voice in his ear. ”The time is not yet come.” The squire did not look round, for he well knew that the caution proceeded from Nance Redferne.
And, accordingly, he observed to Richard-”Tarry awhile, and you will be amply avenged.”
And with this a.s.surance the young man was fain to be content.
Just then a trumpet was sounded, and a herald stationed on the summit of the broad flight of steps leading to the great hall, proclaimed in a loud voice that a tilting-match was about to take place between Archie Armstrong, jester to his most gracious Majesty, and Davy Droman, who filled the same honourable office to his Grace the Duke of Buckingham, and that a pair of gilt-heel'd chopines would be the reward of the successful combatant. This announcement was received with cheers, and preparations were instantly made for the mock tourney. A large circle being formed by the yeomen of the guard, with an alley leading to it on either side, the two combatants, mounted on gaudy-caparisoned hobby-horses, rode into the ring. Both were armed to the teeth, each having a dish-cover braced around him in lieu of a breastplate, a newly-scoured bra.s.s porringer on his head, a large pewter platter instead of a buckler, and a spit with a bung at the point, to prevent mischief, in place of a lance. The Duke's jester was an obese little fellow, and his appearance in this warlike gear was so eminently ridiculous, that it provoked roars of laughter, while Archie was scarcely less ridiculous. After curveting round the arena in imitation of knights of chivalry, and performing ”their careers, their prankers, their false trots, their smooth ambles, and Canterbury paces,” the two champions took up a position opposite each other, with difficulty, as it seemed, reining in their pawing chargers, and awaiting the signal of attack to be given by Sir John Finett, the judge of the tournament. This was not long delayed, and the ”laissez aller” being p.r.o.nounced, the preux chevaliers started forward with so much fury, and so little discretion, that meeting half-way with a tremendous shock, and b.u.t.ting against each other like two rams, both were thrown violently backwards, exhibiting, amid the shouts of the spectators, their heels, no longer hidden by the trappings of their steeds, kicking in the air. Enc.u.mbered as they were, some little time elapsed before they could regain their feet, and their lances having been removed in the mean time, by order of Sir John Finett, as being weapons of too dangerous a description for such truculent combatants, they attacked each other with their broad lathen daggers, dealing sounding blows upon helm, habergeon, and s.h.i.+eld, but doing little personal mischief. The strife raged furiously for some time, and, as the champions appeared pretty well matched, it was not easy to say how it would terminate, when chance seemed to decide in favour of Davy Droman; for, in dealing a heavier blow than usual, Archie's dagger snapped in twain, leaving him at the mercy of his opponent. On this the doughty Davy, crowing l.u.s.tily like chanticleer, called upon him to yield; but Archie was so wroth at his misadventure, that, instead of complying, he sprang forward, and with the hilt of his broken weapon dealt his elated opponent a severe blow on the side of the head, not only knocking off the porringer, but stretching him on the ground beside it. The punishment he had received was enough for poor Davy. He made no attempt to rise, and Archie, crowing in his turn, trampling upon the body of his prostrate foe, and then capering joyously round it, was declared the victor, and received the gilt chopines from the judge, amidst the laughter and acclamations of the beholders.
With this the public sports concluded; and, as evening was drawing on apace, such of the guests as were not invited to pa.s.s the night within the Tower, took their departure; while shortly afterwards, supper being served in the banqueting-hall on a scale of profusion and magnificence quite equal to the earlier repast, the King and the whole of his train sat down to it.
CHAPTER X.-EVENING ENTERTAINMENTS.
Other amus.e.m.e.nts were reserved for the evening. While revelry was again held in the great hall; while the tables groaned, for the third time since morning, with good cheer, and the ruby wine, which seemed to gush from inexhaustible fountains, mantled in the silver flagons; while seneschal, sewer, and pantler, with the yeomen of the b.u.t.tery and kitchen, were again actively engaged in their vocations; while of the three hundred guests more than half, as if insatiate, again vied with each other in prowess with the trencher and the goblet; while in the words of old Taylor, the water poet, but who was no water-drinker-and who thus sang of the hospitality of the men of Manchester, in the early part of the seventeenth century-they had
”Roast, boil'd, bak'd, too, too much, white, claret, sack.
Nothing they thought too heavy or too hot, Can follow'd can, and pot succeeded pot.”
-during this time preparations were making for fresh entertainments out of doors.
The gardens at Hoghton Tower, though necessarily confined in s.p.a.ce, owing to their situation on the brow of a hill, were beautifully laid out, and commanded from their bal.u.s.tred terraces magnificent views of the surrounding country. Below them lay the well-wooded park, skirted by the silvery Darwen, with the fair village of Walton-le-Dale immediately beyond it, the proud town of Preston further on, and the single-coned Nese Point rising majestically in the distance. The princ.i.p.al garden const.i.tuted a square, and was divided with mathematical precision, according to the formal taste of the time, into smaller squares, with a broad well-kept gravel walk at each angle. These plots were arranged in various figures and devices-such as the cinq-foil, the flower-de-luce, the trefoil, the lozenge, the fret, the diamond, the crossbow, and the oval-all very elaborate and intricate in design. Besides these knots, as they were termed, there were labyrinths, and clipped yew-tree walks, and that indispensable requisite to a garden at the period, a maze. In the centre was a gra.s.sy eminence, surmounted by a pavilion, in front of which spread a gra.s.s-plot of smoothest turf, ordinarily used as a bowling-green. At the lower end of this a temporary stage was erected, for the masque about to be represented before the King. Torches were kindled, and numerous lamps burned in the branches of the adjoining trees; but they were scarcely needed, for the moon being at the full, the glorious effulgence shed by her upon the scene rendered all other light pale and ineffectual.
After supper, at which the drinking was deeper than at dinner, the whole of the revellers repaired to the garden, full of frolic and merriment, and well-disposed for any diversion in store for them. The King was conducted to the bowling-green by his host, preceded by a crowd of attendants bearing odoriferous torches; but the royal gait being somewhat unsteady, the aid of Sir Gilbert Hoghton's arm was required to keep the monarch from stumbling. The rest of the baccha.n.a.lians followed, and, elated as they were, it will not be wondered that they put very little restraint upon themselves, but shouted, sang, danced, and indulged in all kinds of licence.
Opposite the stage prepared for the masquers a platform had been reared, in front of which was a chair for the King, with seats for the n.o.bles and princ.i.p.al guests behind it. The sides were hung with curtains of crimson velvet fringed with gold; the roof decorated like a canopy; so that it had a very magnificent effect. James lolled back in his chair, and jested loudly and rather indecorously with the various personages as they took their places around him. In less than five minutes the whole of the green was filled with revellers, and great was the pus.h.i.+ng and jostling, the laughing and screaming, that ensued among them. Silence was then enjoined by Sir John Finett, who had stationed himself on the steps of the stage, and at this command the a.s.semblage became comparatively quiet, though now and then a half-suppressed t.i.tter or a smothered scream would break out. Amid this silence the King's voice could be distinctly heard, and his coa.r.s.e jests reached the ears of all the astonished audience, provoking many a severe comment from the elders, and much secret laughter from the juniors.
The masque began. Two tutelar deities appeared on the stage. They were followed by a band of foresters clad in Lincoln green, with bows at their backs. The first deity wore a white linen tunic, with flesh-coloured hose and red buskins, and had a purple taffeta mantle over his shoulders. In his hand he held a palm branch, and a garland of the same leaves was woven round his brow. The second household G.o.d was a big brawny varlet, wild and s.h.a.ggy in appearance, being clothed in the skins of beasts, with sandals of untanned cowhide. On his head was a garland of oak leaves; and from his neck hung a horn. He was armed with a hunting-spear and wood-knife, and attended by a large Lancas.h.i.+re mastiff. Advancing to the front of the stage, the foremost personage thus addressed the Monarch-
”This day-great King for government admired!
Which these thy subjects have so much desired- Shall be kept holy in their heart's best treasure, And vow'd to JAMES as is this month to Caesar.
And now the landlord of this ancient Tower, Thrice fortunate to see this happy hour, Whose trembling heart thy presence sets on fire, Unto this house-the heart of all our s.h.i.+re- Does bid thee cordial welcome, and would speak it In higher notes, but extreme joy doth break it.
He makes his guests most welcome, in his eyes Love tears do sit, not he that shouts and cries.
And we the antique guardians of this place,- I of this house-he of the fruitful chase,- Since the bold Hoghtons from this hill took name, Who with the stiff, unbridled Saxons came, And so have flourish'd in this fairer clime Successively from that to this our time, Still offering up to our immortal powers Sweet incense, wine, and odoriferous flowers; While sacred Vesta, in her virgin tire, With vows and wishes tends the hallow'd fire.
Now seeing that thy Majesty is thus Greater than household deities like us, We render up to thy more powerful guard, This Tower. This knight is thine-he is thy ward, For by thy helping and auspicious hand, He and his home shall ever, ever stand And flourish, in despite of envious fate; And then live, like Augustus, fortunate.
And long, long mayst thou live!-To which both men And guardian angels cry-”Amen! amen!”
James, who had demeaned himself critically during the delivery of the address, observed at its close to Sir Richard Hoghton, who was standing immediately behind his chair, ”We cannot say meikle for the rhymes, which are but indifferently strung together, but the sentiments are leal and gude, and that is a' we care for.”
On this the second tutelar divinity advanced, and throwing himself into an att.i.tude, as if bewildered by the august presence in which he stood, exclaimed-
”Thou greatest of mortals!”- And then stopped, as if utterly confounded.
The King looked at him for a moment, and then roared out-”Weel, gudeman, your commencement is pertinent and true enough; and though we be 'the greatest of mortals,' as ye style us, dinna fash yoursel' about our grandeur, but go on, as if we were nae better nor wiser than your ain simple sel'.”
But, instead of encouraging the dumbfounded deity, this speech completely upset him. He hastily retreated; and, in trying to screen himself behind the huntsman, fell back from the stage, and his hound leapt after him. The incident, whether premeditated or not, amused the spectators much more than any speech he could have delivered, and the King joined heartily in the merriment.