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 themselves 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.
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