OF THE INCIDENT OF THE COBBLER'S FEAST
"Noble gentlemen," said Douglas when he had returned into his room, "I
am here confronted by a problem that I would fain crave thy learned
assistance in solving. MacGregor," he added, handing Henry's warrant to
the lean scrivener, "recite to us the contents of this parchment."
MacGregor at once proceeded to read the document, which abounded in
pompous tautology and redundant sentences. When he had finished with
the preamble he came to the meat of the warrant, which ran: "Lord
Douglas, friend and ally, we beg of thee the favor that this young
knight, Sir Richard Rohan, Kt., bearer of this paper, shall be engaged
in fair and honorable conflict by men of thine own choice to the end
that he return not again into England. We pray thee further to keep
from Sir Richard Rohan, Kt., all knowledge of the purport of this
warrant upon thee, Lord Douglas. And as thou shalt bear out its intent,
so shalt thy divers affairs prosper before our court. Signed, Henry
VII."
"Well, what think you of it, gentlemen?" inquired Douglas when
MacGregor had finished his sing-song droning of the sentences.
"By thy leave, my lord," said the venerable spokesman of the conclave,
a very aged man, according to all appearances, whose snowy beard
swept to the cord knotted about his waist, "by thy leave and that
of my compeers, I would say that it might be wise to fulfill King
Henry's wishes in so small a matter. This Perkin Warbeck, to whom
Lady Anna is teaching the manners of a noble, is not yet prepared to
assume successfully the part of the dead prince. Not until the youth's
schooling is complete shalt thou, my lord, be justified in setting thy
brave men at his back and speeding them across the borders of England.
And even then it is not thy wish, as we understand it, to be recognized
as the instigator of this movement. To that end it would be prudent, it
beseemeth me, to set the burden of obligation upon Henry by carrying
out his wishes with respect of this Sir Richard Rohan."
"Well and ably said," commented Lord Douglas. "But what cause, think
you, had Henry for dispatching the youth from Kenilworth to Yewe to
accomplish a thing that could as well and more surely have been done
upon the tower block?"
"Marry, my lord, an it be not a senseless wine-wager begot at cock-crow
after a night of wild feasting, I am much mistaken withal," observed
another member of the council.
"Belike it is," Douglas agreed. "Belike it is. But 'tis sinful, I take
it, thus to waste an honest body. I like me the young knight's looks
mightily, gentlemen, and I say to thee now, an he vanquish in single
combat those whom thou shalt choose to be his adversaries, I'll appoint
him chief of horse when the time grows ripe to send our expedition
against the usurper and tyrant, Henry. This is Lady Anna's suggestion,
and in her judgment of character I repose the utmost of confidence.
Now, noble gentles, lay me thy heads together and appoint me a list of
fighting men, each of whom shall, according as thou mayst order, insult
and duel with the young knight. Let Henry be apprised of our intention
to comply with his behest. Counselors, that is all."
The members of the council thereupon bowed gravely and withdrew to
their own room for the purpose of making out the list in compliance
with Lord Douglas's request.
During the whole of this time, in the curtained alcove below, Lady
Anna had been conversing with Sir Richard. From the inception of
their acquaintance, the young knight had accorded to her a sincere
admiration, and in a very short space she had won his confidence to
the extent that he was now narrating to her the experiences of his
journey. When he came to the incident of the cutting of saffron velvet,
which he had withheld when telling his story to Lord Douglas, Lady
Anna displayed a more than passive interest, expressing an earnest
wish to see and examine the bit of cloth. When he obediently gave it
to her, she took it within her shapely fingers, crumpling it into many
wrinkles, arching her fine brows, and making a pretense of feeling
jealousy. In fact, whenever opportunity offered, she set his cup to
brimming with sweetest flattery. Like all men of whom she chose to make
instruments in the furthering of her husband's schemes, Sir Richard
became a mere creature of clay in her deft hands.
"Lord Douglas told you, Richard," said she, when they were done
discussing the subject of his adventures, "that to-day is the day of
the Cobbler's Feast. But he was remiss in not adding that it is also my
birthday, and that we have arranged that you shall have seat at table
between my lord and me, ... the guest of honor. Though the honor shall
be ours in claiming you as such, brave knight." Thereupon she arose
with a pretty show of reluctance from the cushioned window-seat. "How
old would you take me to be?" she concluded with an arch look.
Sir Richard, extremely sensible of the intimacy of Lady Anna's
question, flushed with embarrassment. He begged to be excused from
answering, averring that he had ever been an ill judge of women's ages.
When she pressed him for a reply, which she contrived to do without
seeming to be over bold, he ventured a surmise that she must be nearly
of an age with himself.
"Why, what a flatterer you are to be sure, Richard," she said, laughing
gaily. "Beshrew me for a witch, an you are anything more than a mere
boy! I am thirty-three, sir knight. Thirty-three this day. But come,"
she added, taking his hand, pressing it gently and casting sidelong
glances out of a pair of wonderfully expressive brown eyes; "it is
not my wish to keep you altogether to myself. Permit me to acquaint
you with the company in the hall," Lady Anna pursued, as she led Sir
Richard into the throng of courtiers and maidens. "Till we meet beside
the wassail board, make you merry," she said then. "And forget not to
address a word or two in my direction. I shall esteem each one of them
a ... jewel, Richard."
The young knight perceived, the while he was moving from group to group
receiving introductions, that the council of powdered jackdaws had been
adjourned. Its members were spread out over the hall, singling out men,
one after another, and engaging them in a momentary conversation. He
was curious to know why, after each of these brief exchanges, he at
once became the object of these men's scrutinizing glances. But, though
he recalled the incident later, it was temporarily lost and forgotten
amid the banalities of polite talk to which he was obliged to lend
constant ear. Sir Richard entered wholly into the holiday spirit
pervading the company, however, and served out honeyed words with a
zest quite equal in degree with that which he drank them in. He found
the change from his ardorous and lonely journey to this atmosphere of
good cheer and loud merriment to be most agreeable. His message had
been delivered, his work was now done, and he felt altogether care-free
and happy.
Before the hour set for the feast in the great hall, he was singled
out by a page and conducted to a room, which he was told was to be his
during his stay in Castle Yewe. It was ample in size and magnificently
furnished. Its walls and ceiling were trimmed in deep oaken paneling.
Over the fireplace, which occupied quite two-thirds of the west side of
the chamber, the woodwork was fretted and scrolled from mantel-shelf
to ceiling. Upon the massive oak bed were neatly arranged a suit of
slashed silk and velvet, a fine lace and linen upper garment, and boots
of soft leather to match. There was also an elegantly fashioned rapier
to take the place of the service-blade that he habitually carried at
his side. His saddle-bags were flung across a holder fashioned for the
purpose of bearing these inseparable companions of the traveler.
Sir Richard sat down upon the edge of the bed, and before starting
to change his dress, took out the cutting of saffron velvet from the
breast of his doublet. He held it at arm's length, regarding it for
quite a space with an expression of deep melancholy. He thought again
of the beautiful Lady Anna's parting, whispered words--"I shall esteem
each one of them a ... jewel, Richard." They had recurred to him many
times, and in each instance his heart had undeniably responded in a
tenderly sentimental way. It occurred to his imaginative fancy that
the bit of cloth had eyes, and that they were looking at him with sad,
reproachful glances. He felt less guilty after he had taken up his
sword and solemnly renewed his vow. He made up his mind that never
again would he be untrue to the cutting of velvet and the maid by whom
it had been relinquished into his keeping, but whom he had not yet seen.
With a clearer conscience he went about unbuckling his armor and
bedecking himself in the rich finery that had been so thoughtfully
provided for him. Sir Richard was the last guest to come down the
wide stairway to the floor of the hall. Along each balustrade was a
row of carved sockets in which wax torches had been set, and when the
young knight stepped slowly down between their soft light, full many a
languishing glance sped upward toward him; full many a feminine heart
beat in a perfect rhythm with his tread upon the gray stone steps.
Following Sir Richard's appearance there was a concerted movement in
the direction of the dining hall, with Lord Douglas, Lady Anna, and the
belated arrival in the lead. The room in which the feast of Crispian
had been spread was of vast dimensions. Its ceiling seemed low in
comparison with its great length and breadth, and was paneled in highly
polished red cedar. Wainscoting of the same wood, extending to a height
of five feet above the floor, stretched around its four sides. Above
this the walls were covered with rich tapestries, with designs woven in
arras, representing a brave array of martial scenes, pictures of the
chase and conflicts within the lists. Stretching from end to end of the
hall stood the magnificently decorated table, which had been spread
with lavish and bountiful hands. Forty wax torches shed a bright glow
over the scene of princely festivities.
Sir Richard was indeed the guest of honor, having a seat above the salt
between the lord and lady of the castle. A silken canopy, depending
from gilded chains fastened to the ceiling, swung just above their
heads. Musicians, dressed in the fantastic garb of the troubadours
of that time, filled the room with delightful melodies. Merrily the
feast progressed, with constantly augmenting talk and laughter as
the delicately chased silver flagons emptied their sparkling streams
into the tankards held beneath them. There was wassail on wassail,
downed amid the tinkling of golden cups and the hoarse bellowing of
bearded, tipsy knights. Sir Richard took his full measure of enjoyment
out of the occasion, though he suffered a secret regret because of
his inability to keep up his end with some of the old campaigners
in the matter of the drink. Even now he was sensible of the fact
that surrounding objects were assuming an exaggerated brilliancy and
beauty, combined with a certain vagueness that rendered their charm
indefinably more alluring. He felt his blood coursing like molten
silver through his veins. His only outward manifestations of the wine's
stimulating influence, however, were a fastidious politeness and
solicitous interest on behalf of those about him.
When Lady Anna pressed his foot softly beneath the board, the young
knight again committed the sin of being untrue to the cutting of
saffron velvet.
"'Tis now your turn to give us wassail, Richard," said she, with a
slight uplifting of her brows that went to his head with a greater
effect than the wine.
"Give thee all bonnie Scotland, ... her good sovereign, ... Lord
Douglas, our good host, the lovely Lady Anna, and the King of England,"
Sir Richard shouted, getting to his feet, with brimming glass stretched
half across the table.
A brawny knight, dressed handsomely in brown leather slashed with
crimson velvet, reached across and rudely struck his hand, slopping a
good portion of the wine about among the guests. Without a moment's
hesitation Sir Richard gave his insulter the remainder of it in his
face, amid a transitory silence, profound and tomblike.
Followed then, upon the instant, the excited babbling of many voices,
from which entanglement of sound Sir Richard contrived to isolate the
fact that he had been challenged, and that they were to meet in the
castle yard at dawning of that morning.
"There are here, around this board to-night, a dozen better blades than
he," Lady Anna whispered low in the young knight's ear when something
approaching order had been restored. "For my sake, Richard, you must
not fail to vanquish him," she added, with another pressure of her
dainty foot.