The throng outside the gates of Whitehall felt their breasts dilate, and
their pulses dance, as they listened to the flourishes of the trumpets
and cornets, the thundering bruit of the kettle-drums, and other martial
music that proclaimed the setting forth of the steel-clad champions who
were presently to figure in the lists.
It was, in sooth, a goodly sight to see the long and brilliant
procession formed by the fourteen knights, each so gallantly mounted, so
splendidly accoutred, and accompanied by such a host of gentlemen
ushers, pages, yeomen, and grooms, some on horseback, and some on foot;
and the eye of the looker-on was never wearied of noticing the diversity
of their habiliments,--some of the knights having cuirasses and helmets,
polished as silver, and reflecting the sun's rays as from a
mirror,--some, russet-coloured armour,--some, blue harness,--some,
fluted,--some, corslets damaskeened with gold, and richly
ornamented,--others, black and lacquered breastplates, as was the case
with the harness of Prince Charles,--and one, a dead black coat of mail,
in the instance of Sir Giles Mompesson. The arms of each were slightly
varied, either in make or ornament. A few wore sashes across their
breastplates, and several had knots of ribands tied above the coronals
of their lances, which were borne by their esquires.
In order to give the vast crowd assembled in the neighbourhood of
Whitehall, an opportunity of witnessing as much as possible of the
chivalrous spectacle, it was arranged by Prince Charles that the line of
the procession should first take its course through the Holbein Grate,
and then, keeping near the wall of the Privy Garden, should pass beneath
the King's Gate and draw up for a short time in the Old Palace-yard near
Westminster-hall, where a great concourse was assembled, amidst which a
space was kept clear by parties of halberdiers and yeomen of the guard.
The procession was headed by the Prince, and the stately step of his
milk-white charger well beseemed his own majestic deportment. When the
long train of gentlemen-ushers and pages accompanying him had moved on,
so as to leave the course clear for the next comer and his followers, a
young knight presented himself, who, more than any other in the
procession, attracted the attention of the spectators. This youthful
knight's visor was raised so as to disclose his features, and these were
so comely, that, combined with his finely-proportioned figure, perfectly
displayed by his armour, he offered an _ensemble_ of manly attractions
almost irresistible to female eyes. Nor did the grace and skill which
he exhibited in the management of his steed commend him less highly to
sterner judges, who did not fail to discover that his limbs, though
light, were in the highest degree vigorous and athletic, and they
prognosticated most favourably of his chances of success in the jousts.
When it became known that this _preux chevalier_ was Sir Jocelyn
Mounchensey, the chosen antagonist of Buckingham, still greater
attention was bestowed upon him; and as his good looks and gallant
bearing operated strongly, as we have stated, in his favour, many a good
wish and lusty cheer were uttered for him.
The effect of all this excitement among the crowd on behalf of
Mounchensey was to render Buckingham's reception by the same persons
comparatively cold; and the cheers given for the magnificent favourite
and his princely retinue were so few and so wanting in spirit, that he
who was wholly unaccustomed to such neglect, and who had been jealously
listening to the cheers attending Mounchensey's progress, was highly
offended, and could scarcely conceal his displeasure. But if he was
indignant at his own reception, he was exasperated at the treatment
experienced by his ally.
Close behind him rode a knight in black armour, with a sable panache on
his helm. Stalwart limbs and a manly bearing had this knight, and he
bestrode his powerful charger like one well accustomed to the saddle;
but though no one could gainsay his skill as a horseman, or his possible
prowess as a man-at-arms, most thought he had no title to be there, and
gave unmistakable evidence of their conviction by groans and hootings.
This black knight was Sir Giles Mompesson, and very grim and menacing
was his aspect.
Ample accommodation for the knightly company and their attendants, as
well as for the multitudes congregated to behold them was afforded by
the broad area in front of Westminster Hall; nevertheless, as those in
the rear could not see as well as those in front, every chance elevation
offering a better view was eagerly seized upon. All the accessible
points of Westminster Hall--its carved porch and windows--were invaded.
So were the gates of the Old Palace hard by--so were the buttresses of
the Abbey; and men were perched, like grotesque ornaments, on crocketed
pinnacles and stone water-spouts. The tall and curiously-painted clock
tower, resembling an Italian campanile, which then faced the portals of
Westminster Hall, was covered with spectators. But the position most
coveted, and esteemed the best, was the fountain at that time standing
in the midst of the old palace-yard. This structure, which was of great
antiquity and beauty, with a pointed summit supported by tall slender
shafts, and a large basin beneath, formed a sort of pivot, round which
the procession turned as it arrived upon the ground, and consequently
formed the best point of view of all; and those were esteemed highly
fortunate who managed to obtain a place upon it.
Amongst these lucky individuals were three of the reader's
acquaintances, and we think he will scarce fail to recognise the
saucy-faced apprentice with the cudgel under his arm, and the
fair-haired, blue-eyed, country-looking maiden at his side, as well as
the hale old rustic by whom they were attended. All three were delighted
with their position, and Dick Taverner took full credit to himself for
his cleverness in procuring it for them. As to pretty Gillian, nothing
could please her better, for she could not only see all that was going
forward, but everybody could see her--even Prince Charles himself; and
she flattered herself that she attraeted no little attention. And now
that the whole of the procession had come up, the picture was certainly
magnificent, and well worth contemplation. Everything was favourable to
the enjoyment of the spectacle. The day was bright and beautiful, and a
sparkling sunshine lighted up the splendid accoutrements of the knights,
the gorgeous caparisons of their steeds, and the rich habiliments of
their attendants; while a gentle breeze stirred the plumes upon the
helmets, and fluttered the bandrols on their lances. The effect was
heightened by enlivening strains of minstrelsy, and the fanfares of the
trumpeters. The utmost enthusiasm was awakened among the spectators,
and their acclamations were loud and long.
At this juncture, Dick Taverner, who had been shouting as lustily as the
rest, tossing his cap in the air, and catching it dexterously as it
fell, held his breath and clapped his bonnet on his head, for an object
met his eye which fixed his attention. It was the sombre figure of a
knight accoutred in black armour, who was pressing his steed through the
throng in the direction of the fountain. His beaver was up, and the
sinister countenance was not unknown to the apprentice.
"Saints defend us!" he ejaculated. "Is it possible that can be Sir Giles
Mompesson? What doth he here amidst this noble company? The villainous
extortioner cannot surely be permitted to enter the lists."
"Hold your peace, friend, if you are wise," muttered a deep voice behind
him.
"No, I will not be silent," rejoined the apprentice, without looking
round at his cautioner, but keeping his eye fixed upon Sir Giles. "I
will tell the felon knight my mind. I am not afraid of him. Harkye, my
masters," he called, in a loud voice, to those around him. "Do you know
who that black raven before you is? If not, I will tell you. He would
peck out your eyes if he could, and devour you and your substance, as he
has done that of many others. That bird of ill omen is Sir Giles
Mompesson."
"Impossible!" cried a bystander, indignantly. "Yet, now I look again,
'tis certainly he."
"As certain as that we are standing here," said the apprentice; "and if
you want further proof, behold, he is closing his visor. He thinks to
hide himself from our notice; but the trick shall not avail him. A groan
for the knavish extortioner, my masters--a deep groan for Sir Giles
Mompesson!"
Thus enjoined, a great hooting was made by the bystanders, and Sir
Giles's name was coupled with epithets that could not be very agreeable
to his ear.
"You were best let him alone, fool," cried the deep voice behind Dick.
"You will only bring yourself into trouble."
But the apprentice was not to be thus advised; and could not even be
restrained by the entreaties of Gillian, who was sadly apprehensive that
some mischief would befall him. So conspicuous did he make himself in
the disturbance, that at last Sir Giles rode towards him, and singling
him out, seized him with his gauntleted hand, and dragged him from the
edge of the fountain. Dick struggled manfully to get free, but he was in
a grasp of iron, and all his efforts at releasing himself were
ineffectual. He called on those near him to rescue him, but they shrank
from the attempt. Poor Gillian was dreadfully alarmed. She thought her
lover was about to be sacrificed to Sir Giles's resentment on the spot;
and, falling on her knees, she piteously besought him to spare his life.
"For shame, Gillian," cried Dick; "do not demean yourself thus. The
caitiff knight dares not harm me for his life; and if he should maltreat
me, I shall be well avenged by my patron, Sir Jocelyn Mounchensey. I
would my voice might reach him--I should not long be kept here. To the
rescue! Sir Jocelyn! to the rescue!" And he shouted forth the young
knight's name at the top of his voice.
"Who calls me?" demanded Mounchensey, pressing through the throng in the
direction of the outcries.
"I, your humble follower, Dick Taverner," roared the apprentice; "I am
in the clutches of the devil, and I pray you release me."
"Ha! what is this?" cried Sir Jocelyn. "Set him free, at once, Sir
Giles, I command you."
"What, if I refuse?" rejoined the other.
"Then I will instantly enforce compliance," thundered Mounchensey.
"If I release him it is because I must defend myself and punish your
insolence," cried Sir Giles. And as he spoke, he thrust back the
apprentice with such force that he would have fallen to the ground if he
had not dropped into the arms of his kneeling mistress.
"Now, Sir Jocelyn," continued Sir Giles, fiercely; "you shall answer for
this interference"--
"Hold!" interposed the authoritative voice of Prince Charles; "we must
have no unseemly brawls here. To your places at once in the procession,
Sir Knights. We are about to set forward to the tilt-yard."
With this, he gave the word to move on, and all further sound of
disturbance was drowned by the trampling of steeds and the bruit of the
kettle-drums, cornets, and trumpets.
Nowise disheartened by what had occurred, Dick Taverner would have
followed with the stream, and carried his mistress and her grandsire
along with him; but the former had been so much terrified by what had
occurred, that dreading lest her lover's imprudence should get him into
further scrapes, she positively refused to proceed any further.
"I have seen quite enough," she cried; "and if you have any love for me,
Dick, you will take me away, and not expose yourself to further risk. If
you are indeed bent on going on, I shall return with my grandsire."
"He will do well to follow your advice, young mistress," said the deep
voice which had previously sounded in Dick's ears; "if he had taken
mine, he would not have voluntarily thrust himself into the fangs of the
tiger, from which it is well for him that he has escaped with a whole
skin."
As this was said, Dick and his mistress turned towards the speaker, and
beheld a tall man, masked, and muffled in a black cloak.
"Heaven shield us! 'tis the Enemy!" exclaimed Gillian, trembling.
"Not so, fair damsel," replied the disguised personage; "I am not the
arch-enemy of man, neither am I enemy of yours, nor of Dick Taverner.
Your froward lover neglected my previous caution, but I will give him
another, in the hope that you may induce him to profit by it. Let him
keep out of the reach of Sir Giles Mompesson's emissaries, or his
wedding-day will be longer in coming than you both hope for. Nay, it may
not come at all."
With these words, the man in the mask mingled with the crowd, and almost
instantly disappeared, leaving the young couple, especially Gillian, in
much consternation. So earnest was the maiden for instant departure,
that Dick was obliged to comply; and as the whole of the thoroughfares
about Whitehall were impassable, they proceeded to the river side, and
took boat for London Bridge, at a hostel near which old Greenford had
put up his horse.