Читать книгу Cardinal Pole; Or, The Days of Philip and Mary - William Harrison Ainsworth - Страница 11

Table of Contents

HOW THE PRINCE OF SPAIN OBTAINED A SIGHT OF SIR BEVIS OF SOUTHAMPTON AND HIS HORSE ARUNDEL, OF THE GIANT ASCAPART, THE PRINCESS JOSYAN, KING CANUTE, AND ANOTHER NOTABLE PERSONAGE.

The platform on which the Prince of Spain and young Clinton stood, after leaving the boat, was entirely deserted, the vast concourse, recently assembled there, having returned, as already stated, to the town. Here and there a sentinel, in steel cap and breastplate, and armed with a halberd, strode to and fro along the solitary quay. One of these sentinels challenged the Prince and his companion on their landing, but a word from Osbert caused the man to retire.

As Philip first set foot on English ground a thrill of exultation ran through his breast, but he allowed no outward manifestation of the feeling to escape him; but after a momentary halt, signified his desire to Osbert to enter the town.

The night was dark, but clear and perfectly calm. Behind, on the smooth sea, which reflected the stars shining brilliantly above, and the lights of the large lanterns hanging at the poops of the vessels, lay the “Santissima Trinidada,” with her scarcely less colossal companions beside her, looming like leviathans in the darkness. Here all seemed buried in repose, for no sound arose from the mighty ships, or from the squadron in their rear. But in front there was a strong light proceeding from a blazing barrel of pitch set on the top of the Water-gate, the flames of which, rising to a great height, illumined the battlements and keep of the castle, as well as the steeples of the churches and the roofs of the loftier buildings, casting a ruddy glare on the moat beneath, and making the adjacent walls and towers look perfectly black. Moreover, a loud hum, with other sounds arising from the interior of the town, showed that its inhabitants were still astir.

Traversing a drawbridge, near which another sentinel was stationed, Osbert and his royal companion speedily reached the Water-gate. Three or four halberdiers were standing beneath the archway, and advanced to question them, but satisfied with young Clinton’s explanation, one of them struck his pole against the massive door, whereupon a wicket was opened, and the pair entered the town.

They were now at the foot of English-street, with the principal features of which the reader is familiar. Active preparations of various kinds were here being made for the anticipated ceremonial of the morrow. Men were employed in decorating scaffolds erected near the gate, and other artificers were occupied in adorning the fronts of the houses. Though the hour was late, owing to the bustle of preparation, and the numerous strangers within the town, few of the inhabitants of this quarter had retired to rest. Festivities seemed to be going on in most of the houses. Lights streamed from the open casements, while joyous shouts, laughter, and strains of music resounded from within.

All was strange to Philip—the quaint and picturesque architecture of the habitations, the manners, and to some extent the very dresses of the people. But though he was amused by the novelty of the scene, the rudeness, noisy talk, boisterous merriment, and quarrels of the common folk, were by no means to his taste. Naturally, his own arrival in the harbour and expected disembarkation on the morrow formed the universal topics of discourse, and he heard remarks upon himself and his nation, such as he had not hitherto conceived that any one would venture to utter. Little did the heedless talkers imagine that the haughty-looking stranger, with his face closely muffled in his mantle, who passed them in the street, or lingered for a moment beneath a porch to watch their proceedings, was the Prince of Spain. Well was it, indeed, for Philip that he was not recognised, since there were some discontented folk abroad that night who might not have held his royal person sacred.

Philip took no notice of his opprobrious discourse to his conductor, who would fain have shut his ears to it, but he said within himself, “I begin to understand these people. They are insolent, audacious, and rebellious. Alva was right. They must be ruled with an iron hand.”

As he walked along, the Prince glanced through the open windows into the dining-chambers of some of the larger houses, and seeing the tables covered with flasks and flagons, and surrounded by guests, whose condition proclaimed that they had been drinking deeply, he inquired of Osbert whether his countrymen usually committed such excesses?

“They are somewhat prone to conviviality, I must admit,” replied the young man. “But joy at your Highness’s safe arrival has doubtless made them carouse longer than their wont to-night. Besides, there are many strangers in the town, and the hospitality of the Southampton merchants knows no limit.”

Whether this explanation was entirely satisfactory to the Prince may be doubted, but he made no further remark.

By this time, Philip and his conductor had arrived within a short distance of Holyrood Church. An arch had here been thrown across the street, which some young women were decorating with flowers and ribbons; while a knot of apprentices, in jerkins of grey or russet serge and flat caps, were superintending their operations, and holding torches for them.

All at once a great shouting was heard in the upper part of the street, whereupon the maidens suspended their task, and called out gleefully to the youths that Sir Bevis and Ascapart were coming. At this intimation the apprentices drew back, and with some others of the townsfolk who were assembled there, ranged themselves on either side of the arch.

Presently the clamour increased, showing that the knight of Southampton and his gigantic squire must be close at hand, and in order to get out of the way of the crowd, the Prince and his companion withdrew into a porch, whence they could see what was going on without molestation.

Scarcely had they thus ensconced themselvesthemselves when a tumultuous throng burst through the arch. These were followed by a troop of Moors—for such they seemed, from their white garments, turbans adorned with the crescent, and blackened features. The foremost of these Paynims bore torches, but three of them, who marched in the rear, had golden fetters on their wrists, and crowns on their heads. After these captive monarchs rode their conqueror, bestriding his mighty war-horse, Arundel. Sir Bevis, who was of gigantic proportions, was equipped in an enormous steel corslet, with greaves to match, and had on his head a white-plumed helm, the visor of which being raised, disclosed a broad, bluff, bearded visage. Arundel was of extraordinary size and strength, as he had need to be with such a rider, and had a tufted chamfron on his head, with housings of red velvet.

On the right and left of Sir Bevis strode two personages, whose frames were as gigantic as his own. One of these, clad in a tunic of chain armour, which fully developed his prodigious amplitude of chest, wore a conical helmet surmounted by a crown, and having a great nasal in front, which gave peculiar effect to his burly features. This was the Anglo-Danish King, Canute. His majesty bore on his hip a tremendous sword, the scabbard of which was inscribed with mystic characters, and carried in his hand a spear that would have suited Goliath. His shield was oval in form, with a spiked boss in the centre.

Loftier by half a head than the royal Dane was the giant Ascapart, who marched on the other side of the valorous knight of Southampton. Ascapart’s leathern doublet was studded with knobs of brass; a gorget of the same metal encircled a throat thick as that of a bull; his brawny legs were swathed with bands of various colours; and on his shoulders, which were even broader than those of Canute or of his master Sir Bevis, he carried a ponderous club, which it would have puzzled an ordinary man to lift. At his back hung a dragon’s head, no doubt that of the terrific monster slain by Sir Bevis. Despite his attire and formidable club, there was nothing savage in Ascapart’s aspect. On the contrary, his large face had a very good-humoured expression; and the same may be asserted both of Sir Bevis and Canute. It was evident from the strong family likeness distinguishing them that the three giants must be brothers.

As if to contrast with their extraordinary stature, these Anakim were followed by a dwarf, whose appearance was hailed with universal merriment by the spectators. A doublet and cloak of silk and velvet of the brightest hues, with a cap surmounted by a parti-coloured plume of ostrich feathers, formed the attire of this remarkable mannikin. A rapier, appropriate to his size, was girt to his thigh, and a dagger, tiny as a bodkin, hung from his girdle. He rode a piebald horse, and behind him on a pillion sat a plump little dame, representing the Princess Josyan, whose transcendant beauty had bewitched Sir Bevis, and softened the adamantine heart of the ferocious Ascapart. It can scarcely be affirmed that the Princess’s charms were calculated to produce such effects on men in general, but there was doubtless a sorcery about her, which operated more potently on certain subjects than on others. To ordinary eyes she appeared a fat little woman, neither very young nor very tempting, with a merry black eye and a comical expression of countenance. Princess Josyan’s gown was of green velvet, and her embroidered cap had long lappets covering the ears. In her hand she carried a fan made of peacock’s feathers.

In Sir Bevis and his companions Osbert Clinton at once recognised (as perhaps some of our readers may have done) three well-known gigantic warders of the Tower, yclept Og, Gog, and Magog, who, on account of their prodigious stature, were constantly employed in state pageants and ceremonials, while in the consequential looking pigmy riding behind them he did not fail to detect the Queen’s favourite dwarf, Xit, who of late, having received the honour of knighthood from her Majesty, had assumed the title of Sir Narcissus le Grand. The plump little occupant of the pillion, Osbert felt sure must be Lady le Grand, formerly Jane the Fool, whom the Queen had been graciously pleased to bestow in marriage upon Xit. While young Clinton was detailing these circumstances to the Prince, an incident occurred that brought a smile to Philip’s grave countenance.

As Og, the representative of Sir Bevis, was passing through the arch, which his plumed helmet well-nigh touched, he perceived a very comely damsel looking down from a ladder on which she was standing, and laughing at him. Without more ado, he raised himself in his stirrups, and putting his arm round her neck, gave her a sounding salute. Indignant at this proceeding, the damsel requited him with a buffet on the cheek, but in so doing she lost her balance, and would have fallen if the giant had not caught her, and placed her behind him on the broad back of Arundel, which done, he secured his prize by passing his belt round her waist.

Great was the amusement of the bystanders at this occurrence, and several of them clapped their hands and called out, “The Princess Josyan!—the Princess Josyan!” One young gallant, however, did not share the general mirth, but, shouting to Sir Bevis to set the damsel down, made an effort to release her. But he was thwarted in his purpose by Magog, or rather, we should say, by the terrible Ascapart, who, seizing him by the jerkin, notwithstanding his struggles, handed him to Sir Bevis, and by the latter he was instantly transferred to the highest step of the ladder which the damsel had just quitted. Satisfied with what he had done, Sir Bevis rode on, carrying away with him his fair captive, amid the plaudits and laughter of the spectators. Highly incensed at the treatment he had experienced, the youth was preparing to descend, when he perceived Xit beneath him, and stung to fury by the derisive laughter and gestures of the dwarf, who was mightily entertained by what had taken place, he pulled off his thick flat cap, and threw it with such force, and so true an aim, that hitting Xit on the head, it nearly knocked him off his horse.

Greatly ruffled by the indignity thus offered him, Xit, as soon as he recovered his equilibrium, drew his sword, and shrieking out to the apprentice that he should pay for his insolence with his life, bade him come down instantly. But the youth did not care to comply, but joined in the laughter of the spectators, all of whom were prodigiously entertained by the enraged dwarf’s cries and gesticulations. At last, Xit, who was preparing to scale the ladder and attack his foe, yielded to the solicitations of Lady le Grand, and rode on, delivering this parting menace: “We shall meet again, thou craven flat-cap, when I shall not fail to avenge the insult offered me.”

He then quickened his pace, for the laughter and jests of the bystanders displeased him, and speedily overtook the cavalcade. On coming up with it, he found that the damsel, who was universally saluted as the Princess Josyan, still maintained her position behind Sir Bevis, and, indeed, seemed perfectly reconciled to it, as she was now chatting in a very amicable manner with her captor. Perhaps her vanity was a little excited by the effect she evidently produced upon the lookers-on. This may account for the proffer she voluntarily made to Sir Bevis, to enact the Princess Josyan on the morrow—a proffer which the courteous knight readily accepted, provided the matter could be accommodated with Lady le Grand, who had a prior claim to the part.

Great was the tribulation of the luckless apprentice who had thus lost his sweetheart. From his elevated position he watched her progress down the street, and could perceive that she manifested no disposition to dismount. But he soon lost sight of her, since, before reaching the bottom of English-street, Sir Bevis and his cortége turned off on the right in the direction of the West-gate.