Not rain she finds the charmful task,
In pageant quaint, in motley mask.--Collins.
During this expedition of Henry and Sir Osborne, Lord Darby had acted
with more prudence than might have been expected from one so light and
volatile as himself. But, with all the levity of youth, he had a great
fund of shrewdness and good sense, which enabled him keenly to
perceive all the weaknesses of the king's character, and adapt his own
behaviour exactly to the circumstance, whenever he was brought
particularly in contact with the monarch.
In the present instance, seeing that the spirit of mystery had seized
upon Henry, he consented to forego all more active amusement; so that,
when the king and his young companion returned, they found the earl
seated in the saloon wherein Sir Osborne had been armed, never having
quitted it during their absence.
Henry was in high spirits. All had gone well with him: his expedition
had been both successful and secret, and he was not a little pleased
to find that the earl had not joined any of the gay parties of the
court while he had been away.
"Ha, my lord!" cried he, as he entered; "still here! You have done
well; you have done well. 'Tis a treasure you have brought me, this
good knight. Snell, unlace my casque; I must thank you for him as a
gift, for he is now mine own. He outdoes all expectation; nay, say not
against it, Sir Osborne; I should be able to judge of these matters: I
have broken spears enow, and I pronounce you equal to any knight at
this court. Call some one to undo these trappings. But, Darby, you
must not quit the court to-night. Dine here; 'tis time, i'faith; near
one o' the clock! and take Sir Osborne Maurice with you. Make him
known to the best of the court: say the king holds him highly. But
stay," he added, "I had forgot;" and sending for the sub-controller of
the household, he gave commands that the young knight should be
furnished with apartments in the palace from that moment, and receive
the appointment of a gentleman of the privy chamber. "The number is
complete," he continued, turning to Sir Osborne; "but, nevertheless,
you shall be rated as such, and yourself and men provided in the
palace. See it be done, Sir John Harvey. Darby, return hither
privately with your friend, at nine to-night. We have a masque and
revel afoot; but take no heed to send to London for disguise; we will
be your furnishers."
"I hope, sir," said the sub-controller, as the knight and his friend
followed him from the presence, "you are aware that only three
servants are allowed to a gentleman of the privy chamber."
"Three will be as much as I shall have occasion for," answered the
knight; "the other shall remain in London."
"If you will follow me, then," said the officer, "I will show you to
the apartment. Ho! send me a yeoman usher there," he continued,
speaking to a servant who passed. "This way, sir, we shall find the
rooms."
"What!" cried Lord Darby, after they had ascended a good many steps in
one of the wings of the building; "are you going to put my friend in a
third story? Think, Sir John Harvey, may not the king find it strange
when he hears that a knight he honours with his regard has been so
lodged?"
"I can assure you, my lord," answered the controller, "they are
absolutely the only ones in the palace vacant which are at all equal
to the knight's quality; and in truth, were it not for the height, are
among the best in the place. They are large and spacious; exactly the
same size as those which were appointed yesterday, by the queen's
command, for Lady Constance de Grey, and which are immediately
underneath."
"I was going to offer Sir Osborne the use of mine," said Lord Darby,
with a laughing glance towards the knight, "till you could find him
better; but if they are so very good as you say, maybe he will prefer
having his own at once. Ha! Sir Osborne?"
The controller looked solemn, seeing there was some joke, and not
understanding it; but, however, he was joined in a moment after by a
yeoman usher, bearing a bunch of keys, from which he selected one,
and opened the door at which they had been standing while the earl
spoke. A little ante-chamber conducted into three others beyond, all
very well furnished according to the fashion of the day, with a
beautiful view of the wild park from the windows of some of the
rooms, and of the river from the others; on which advantage the
worthy sub-controller descanted with much the tone and manner of a
lodging-house keeper at a watering-place; little knowing that one word
regarding the proximity of Constance de Grey would have been a higher
recommendation to the young knight than all the prospects in the
world, though he loved the beautiful and varied face of earth as much
as any one.
"Go to the wardrobe of beds, usher," said the officer, when he had
promenaded the knight and Lord Darby through the apartment; "go to the
wardrobe of beds, and tell the undermaster to come hither and garnish
this apartment with all speed. As I do not know the honourable
knight's face," continued he, "it is probable that he is new to this
court, and is not aware of the regulations, which, therefore, I will
make bold to tell him. Dinner and supper are served at the board of
estate, every day, at noon and at nightfall. No rere-suppers are
given, nunchions, beverages, or breakfast; but to each gentleman of
the privy-chamber his grace commands a livery every night."
"A livery!" said Sir Osborne; "pray, Sir John, what is that?"
"Its value, sir," said the controller, "depends upon the station of
the person to whom it is given. I have known it cost as much as ten
pounds; such was sent every night to the gentlemen who came to seek
the Princess Mary for the French king; but the livery given by his
grace the king to the gentlemen of the privy-chamber, and others
bearing the same rank, is a cast of fine manchet bread, two pots of
white or red wine at choice, one pound weight of sugar, four white
lights, and four yellow lights of wax, and one large staff torch,
which is delivered every evening at seven of the clock."
Without proceeding further with such discourse, we shall merely say
that the arrangement of Sir Osborne's apartment was soon completed,
himself unarmed, his servants furnished with what modern lacqueys
would call dog-holes, and with truckle-beds; and having, by
intercession with a gentleman wearing black velvet and a gold chain,
and calling himself the chief cook, obtained some dinner, for the
board of estate had long been cleared, Lord Darby and Sir Osborne
sauntered forth on the parade, where the young gallants of the court
were beginning to show themselves; some taking, as it were, a furtive
walk across, afraid to be seen there before the moment of fashion
sanctioned their appearance, and some, who, from either ignorance or
boldness, heeded no mode but their own convenience. Fashions are nine
times out of ten affectations; affectations in those who lead and in
those who follow; and as it is now, so was it in the days of Henry the
Eighth.
The presence of Lord Darby, however, who gradually gathered round him
a little multitude as he walked, soon rendered the parade more
populous. Sir Osborne was introduced to all who were worthy of his
acquaintance; and the same persons who three days before might hardly
have given him a courteous answer, if he had asked them a question,
were now mortified at not being numbered with his acquaintance. The
knight himself, however, was absent and inattentive, his eye
continually seeking Lady Constance de Grey through the crowd, and his
mind sometimes occupied with pleasing dreams of love, and hope, and
happiness to come, and sometimes pondering over his unexpected
encounter with Sir Payan Wileton, and its probable results.
So strange is the world, that this very abstractness of manner and
carelessness in regard to those about him had its grace in the eyes of
the court. They seemed to think that he who cared so little about
anybody, must be somebody of consequence himself; and when, after a
prolonged saunter, the two friends re-entered the palace, Sir
Osborne's name had acquired a degree of _éclât_ which the most
attentive politeness would scarcely have obtained. Still no Constance
de Grey had he seen, and he sat down in the apartments of Lord Darby,
not peculiarly satisfied with their walk.
The young earl himself had also suffered a similar disappointment, for
in the midst of all the _nonchalant_ gaiety which he had displayed to
the crowd, his eye had not failed to scan every group of ladies that
they met for the form of Lady Katrine Bulmer, and he felt a good deal
mortified at not having seen her. But very different was the manner in
which his feelings acted, from the deeper and more ardent love of
Darnley. He laughed, he sung, he jested his companion upon his
gravity, and in the end consoled him, by assuring him that they should
meet with both their lady-loves that night at the queen's, so that if
he were not in a very expiring state, he might hope to live to see her
once more.
The hours quickly flew, and a little before nine the knight and his
companion presented themselves at the door of the king's private
apartments, where they were admitted by a page. When they entered
Henry was reading, and pursued the object of his study without taking
any notice of their approach by word or sign. Nothing remained to be
done but to stand profoundly still before him, waiting his good
pleasure, which remained full a quarter of an hour unmanifested.
"Well, gentlemen both," cried the king at last, starting up and laying
down the book; "I have kept ye long--ha? But now, to make amends, I
will lead ye to the fair ladies. Oh, the disguises! the disguises!
Bring the disguises, Minton; the three I chose but now. You, Darby,
shall be a Muscovian; you, Maurice, a Polacco; and I an Almaine. Say,
Darby, did you see my good lord cardinal this morning ere you came?
Holds he his mind of going to York, as he stated yesterday?"
"I did not see the very reverend lord this morning," replied Lord
Darby, who was Wolsey's ward, as well as the chief lord of his
household. "But his master of the horse informed me that he still
proposed going at ten this morning. Your grace knows that he never
delays when business calls him; and in the present case he thinks that
his presence may quell the murmurers of Yorkshire, as well as Lord
Howard has put down the Rochester fools."
"Ah, 'twas a shrewd business that of Rochester," said the king. "Now
would I give a thousand marks to know who 'twas that set that stone
a-rolling. Be you sure, Darby, that the brute shipwrights would ne'er
have dreamed such a thing themselves. They were set on! They were set
on, man! Ha, the disguises! Quick! come into this closet, and we will
robe us. 'Tis late, and our lady has promised to give, as well as to
receive, a mask."
So saying, Henry led the way to a cabinet at the side of the saloon in
which they were; and here the two young lords offered to assist in
dressing him, but of this he would not permit, bidding them haste with
their own robes, or he would be ready first. The disguise assigned to
Sir Osborne was a splendid suit of gold brocade trimmed with fur,
intended to represent the dress of a Pole; having a sort of pelisse
with sleeves of rich gold damask and sables thrown over the back, and
held by a baldrick, crossing from the right shoulder under the left
arm. His head was covered with a square bonnet of cloth of gold, like
his dress, with an edge of fur; and his face concealed by a satin mask
with a beard of golden threads.
The dress of Lord Darby was not very dissimilar, with only this
difference, that in place of the pelisse, he was furnished with a robe
with short sleeves, and wore on his head a sort of turban, or toque,
with a high feather. In a very different style was the king's
disguise, being simply a splendid German dress of cloth of gold,
trimmed with crimson velvet, but certainly not so unlike his usual
garments as to afford any great degree of concealment. All being
masked and prepared, Henry sent the page to see if the torchbearers
were ready, and issuing out of the palace the three maskers, preceded
by half-a-dozen attendants, crossed the greater quadrangle, passed out
at the gate, and making a circuit round the building, came immediately
under the windows of the queen's great hall, from each of which a
broad blaze of light flashed forth upon the night, and cast a line of
twinkling splendour across the river, that otherwise flowed on, dark
and indistinct, under a clouded and moonless sky.
"Sir Osborne," said Henry, in a low voice, as they entered the open
doors, and turned into a suite of apartments anterior to the room
where the queen held her assembly--"Sir Osborne, your voice being
unknown, you shall be our orator, and in your fine wit seek a fair
compliment for our introduction."
Had his face been uncovered, perhaps the young knight might have
sought to excuse himself; but there is wonderful assurance in a mask;
and feeling a boldness in his disguise, which perhaps the eye of
Constance de Grey might have robbed him of, had he not been concealed
from its glance, he at once undertook the task, saying that he would
do his best.
As he spoke, a couple of hautboys, by which Henry was preceded, paused
at the entrance of the great hall, and placing themselves on each
side, began a light duet, to announce that some masks were coming. The
doors were thrown open, and a splendid scene burst on the view of Sir
Osborne, full of bright and glittering figures, fleeting about in the
blaze of innumerable lights, like the gay phastasms of a brilliant
dream. The knight instinctively paused, but Henry urged him on.
"Quick! quick!" whispered he; "to the lady, to the lady; you forget
your task."
Sir Osborne instantly recollected himself, and seeing a lady, who,
standing unmasked at the farther end of the hall, bore about her that
air of royalty, and that majestic beauty, scarcely touched by time,
for which the noble Catherine was famous, he advanced directly towards
her, and bent one knee to the ground. Nature had given him somewhat of
a poet's inspiration, which came now happily to his aid, and if his
verses were not very good, they were at least ready.
"Lady of beauty, queen of grace,
Strangers three have come to thee,
To gaze on thine unclouded face,
Where so many maskers be.
Oh! never shade that brow so high
With the mummers' painted wile.
Sure you keep that lip and eye,
Welcome on your slaves to smile."
"I thank you, fair sir; I thank you," replied the queen, with a
pleased and gracious smile: "be most welcome, you and your company. I
should know you, and yet I do not. But will you not dance? Choose your
fair ladies; and, chamberlain, bid the music sound."
Sir Osborne passed on, and the king and Lord Darby followed.
"Excellent well, my knight! excellent well!" whispered Henry. "Now
show your wit in choice of a fair dame. I'faith, one must be keen in
these same masks to tell the foul from the fair. However, let us
disperse and find the jewels, though they be hid in such strange
rinds."
At the word the three maskers took different paths amongst the various
figures with which the hall was now nearly filled; Lord Darby and the
knight, each in search of the object of his love; while Henry, as yet
unrecognised, glided through the apartment, it might be in quest of
some fair one also.
For some time Sir Osborne sought in vain, bewildered amongst the crowd
of quaint disguises with which he was surrounded. Now he thought he
beheld the form of Lady Constance here, and after following it for a
moment was called away by the sight of one that resembled her more.
That again he gave up, convinced by some turn or some gesture that it
was some other. Another presented itself, which perhaps he might have
mistaken, but the gay flutter of her manner at once showed that it was
not the person he sought. He saw that already Lord Darby had found his
partner; the tuning of the musical instruments was over, and mentally
cursing his own stupidity, or his own ill-fortune, he was proceeding
once more towards the part of the room where stood the queen, with his
heart beating between eagerness and vexation, when he beheld a lady,
dressed in silver brocade, with a plain satin mask, glide into the
hall, and passing by several who spoke to her, approach that spot, as
if to take a seat which stood near. Sir Osborne darted forward. He
felt that it was her; and, eager to prevent any one intercepting him,
almost startled her with the suddenness of his address.
"Fair mask," said the knight, in a voice that trembled with delight
and hope, "will you tread a measure with a stranger, for courtesy's
sake?"
"I should know your voice," said the lady, in a low tone; "but I can
scarce believe I see you here. But one word, to tell me who you are?"
"My motto," replied the knight, "is _Constanc-y_; my crest, a lady's
glove."
The lady instantly put her hand into his. "Darnley!" said she, in a
voice so low as to be inaudible to any one but himself, who, bending
his head over her, trembled to catch every accent.
"Ah! Constance," he replied, in the same subdued tone, "what is it I
have dared to say to you? what is it I have dared to hope? Friendless
and fortuneless as I am, can you ever pardon my boldness?"
"Hush!" she said, "for pity's sake speak not in that way. Now I know
you love me, that is enough. Friendless you are not, and fortuneless
you cannot he, when all that is Constance's is yours. But see! they
are going to dance; afterwards we will speak more. Do not think me
bold, Darnley, or too easily won; but were I to affect that reserve
which still perhaps might be right, we are so circumstanced that we
might be ruined before we understood each other."
The knight poured forth a thousand thanks, and strove to explain to
Lady Constance how deeply grateful he felt for that generous candour
which is ever the companion of the truest modesty; and, the music now
beginning, he led her through the dance with calm and graceful ease.
As soon as the measure was ended, the queen's chamberlain pronounced,
with a loud voice, that in the other halls the knights and ladies who
had danced would find cool air and shady bowers; and, gladly taking
advantage of this information, Sir Osborne led his partner into the
chamber beyond, which by the queen's device had been divided into a
thousand little arbours, where artificial trees and shrubs, mingled
with real ones, and often ornamented with gilt fruit or flowers,
formed a sort of enchanted garden, for the dancers to repose
themselves; not very exquisite in its taste, indeed, but very much to
the taste of the day.
Singling out the farthest of all the arbours, and the one which
permitted its occupants most easily to observe the approach of any
other party, Darnley led Lady Constance to one of the seats which it
contained, and placing himself by her side, paused for a moment in
silence, to enjoy the new delights that came thrilling upon his heart.
"Oh, Constance!" said he at length, looking up to the sweet hazel eyes
that gazed upon him through the meaningless mask; "never, never did I
think to know such happiness on earth! Could I have dreamed of this
when I left you for Flanders?"
"I do not know," replied Constance; "I have done nothing but think
ever since--ever since you took my glove; and I have fancied that my
dear father foresaw this, and wished it, as you tell me he was aware
who you were; for never, even at that age, was I permitted to know,
and converse with, and see intimately, any young cavalier but
yourself. And then, do not you remember, when you used to teach me to
shoot with the bow, how he would stand by and praise your shooting?
Oh! I can call to mind a thousand things to make me think so."
"Could I but believe it," said Darnley, "I should be even happier than
I am. But still, dear Constance, I hope, I trust, that in the end I
may be enabled to seek your hand, not as an outcast wanderer. Your
good cousin, Lord Darby, has brought me to the knowledge of the king,
whose favour I have been happy enough to gain. He has retained me as
one of the gentlemen of his privy chamber, appointed me apartments in
the palace, which are just above your own; and I hope so far to win
his regard by this opportunity, that he may be induced to hear my
cause against the villain who has seized our inheritance, and do
justice to us at last. And then, Constance, with rank, and fortune,
and favour, all restored, Darnley may hope."
"And what if not restored, Darnley?" said Lady Constance. "Do you
think that rank, or fortune, or favour, will make any difference in
the regard of Constance de Grey? No, Darnley: if--but I won't say
_if_---you love me, the cardinal may do what he will, but I will never
wed another. He may find means, as they hint, to forfeit my English
lands, yet he cannot take my French ones; and even if he did, I would
rather be beggar and free than married to a man I do not love. Not
that I do not love Darby as my cousin; he is kind, and generous, and
frank; but oh!! it is very, very different. But you say that he
introduced you to the king; I did not know you were even acquainted."
"It is a long story, dear Constance," replied the knight; "I will give
it you some other time; but now tell me, while we are yet
uninterrupted, how may I see you? To watch for you, even to catch a
word during the day, certainly were delight; but still 'tis hard,
situated as we are, not to be able to communicate together more
freely. May not I come to see you?"
"Certainly," replied Lady Constance; "but you know that I can hardly
have any private conversation with you even when you do; for good Dr.
Wilbraham is with me the greater part of the morning, and one of my
women always." She paused for a moment in thought, and, raising her
eyes to his, "Darnley," she said, "I never could love a man in whose
honour I could not entirely confide; therefore I do not think it shows
me either weak or wrong when I say that I will be entirely guided by
you. We are not situated as people in general, and therefore we cannot
act as people in general do. Tell me, then, what you think right, and
I will do it. But here are two of the maskers coming directly towards
us. Say what must I do?"
"It is necessary, Constance," said the knight quickly, "absolutely
necessary, that I should sometimes be allowed half-an-hour's
conversation alone, especially at the present moment. I will come
to-morrow early, very early, if it can be then. May I?"
"Yes," said Lady Constance, "I will see. But who are these? They are
coming to us."
"It is Lord Darby," said the knight, "and, if I mistake not, Lady
Katrine Bulmer."
"Dear Polacco!" cried Lord Darby, approaching with a lady, who, to use
an old writer's description, was wondrous gay in her apparel, with a
marvellous strange and rich tire on her head: "dear Polacco, I am but
now aware of how much I have to thank you for. What! you were near
tilting at the Rochester host, and broaching me half-a-dozen
plank-shavers on your spear in defence of a fair lady, and also took
my part even before you knew me? Now, will I guess who is this silver
fair one by your side? she's blushing through her mask as if I were
going to pronounce her name with the voice of a trumpet. Well, sweet
cousin! will you own that you have a wild and rattle-pated relation in
the good town of Westminster? and if so, though you cannot love him,
will you love a very loveable creature for his sake?"
"Hush, mad-cap! let me speak!" said the voice of Lady Katrine Bulmer.
"Lady," she continued, placing herself by the side of Lady Constance,
"will you hate one that would fain love you very much, and have your
love again?"
"Heaven forbid!" replied Lady Constance. "'Tis so sweet to be loved
ourselves, that feeling it, we can scarce refuse it again to those
that love us: with a reservation, though," she added.
"Granted the reservation, that there is still a one must be loved
best," said Lady Katrine; "we all four know it," and she glanced her
merry eyes round the circle. "Oh, what a happy thing is a mask! Here
one may confess one's love, or laugh at one's friends, or abuse one's
relations, without a blush; and surely, if they were worn always, they
would save a world of false smiles and a world of false tears. Oh,
strange economy! What an ocean of grimaces might be spared if man were
but to wear a pasteboard face!"
"I am afraid that he does so more than you think, lady," replied Sir
Osborne. "You will own that his countenance is hollow, and that its
smiles are painted: in short, that it is all a picture, though a
moving one."
"Listen to him!" cried Lady Katrine, raising her look to Lord Darby;
"think of his having the impudence to moralise in the presence of two
women! Would you have believed it?"
"Nay, fair lady! it was you who led the way," replied Sir Osborne.
"But what means that trumpet in these peaceful halls?"
"'Tis either a sound to supper," replied Lord Darby, "or the entrance
of one of those pageants of which our gracious king is so fond. At all
events, let us go and see."
Thus speaking, he led away Lady Katrine gaily to the door, towards
which all the other parties from the enchanted garden were now
proceeding. Sir Osborne and Lady Constance followed more slowly.
"Darnley," said the fair girl, as she leaned on his arm, "I know not
what sort of presentiment led me hither to-night, for I have been so
vexed and so distressed with much that has happened since my arrival
in London, that I can hardly call myself well. I am now much fatigued,
and if I can escape, I will hie me to my bed. When you come to-morrow,
you shall answer me a thousand questions that I have to ask. Oh! I see
I can pass round by that other door. Farewell for this night!"
"Oh, that I dared hope it had been a happy one to you, as it has been
to me!" said the knight, still holding her hand with a fond and
lingering pressure.
"It has, Darnley; it has!" replied Lady Constance; "it has been one
that I shall never forget. Farewell!" and turning away, she passed out
of the door at the side, which led to the apartments in that wing of
the building: not, however, without one look more into the room where
her lover stood gazing still, to catch the last glance of that
graceful figure ere it left his sight.
When she was gone, the young knight, with a high-beating heart, turned
to the door of the great hall, and entered with some of the last
lingerers, who were now changing their slowness into speed, in order
to get a place before the pageant entered. The thoughts of Sir
Osborne, however, were employed on so much more engrossing subjects,
that he took no pains to hasten his steps till he was fairly within
the chamber, when, seeing the whole of the guests arranged on the
farther side of the hall, with the queen in the centre, under her
canopy or cloth of estate, he felt the impropriety of standing there
alone, and hastened to seek a place.
At that moment he observed Henry, who, still disguised, was seated
amongst the rest, and who made him a sign to take a place beside him.
Notwithstanding his mask, however, it was very evident that the king
was known; for, on his sign to Sir Osborne, all around made way for
the young knight to approach the monarch. Scarcely had he taken his
seat when, through the great doors of the hall, a huge machine was
rolled in, before which extended a double cloth of arras, so arranged
as to hide every part of the gewgaw within, only leaving a twinkling
light here and there, seen through the crevices, like the lamps that,
through the cracks of the last scene in a pantomime, announce the
brilliant change that is soon to take place to the temple of Love or
Venus, or some other such sweet power, that deals in pasteboard and
spangles.
But such a thing can never be so well described as in the words of
those who saw it, and whose old stiff style harmonises admirably well
with the quaint and graceless show that they detail. We shall
therefore only so far modify the account which Hall, the chronicler,
gives of this very pageant, as to render him generally intelligible.
"Then," says he, "there was a device or pageant brought in, out of
which pageant issued a gentleman richly apparelled, that showed how,
in a garden of pleasure, there was an arbour of gold, wherein were
lords and ladies, much desirous to show pleasure and pastime to the
queen and ladies, if they might be licensed so to do; who was answered
by the queen, how sire and all other there were very desirous to see
them and their pastime, when a great cloth of arras, that did hang
before the same pageant, was taken away, and the pageant brought more
near. It was curiously made and pleasant to behold; it was solemn and
rich, for every post or pillar thereof was covered with frieze gold.
Therein were trees of hawthorn, eglantines, roses, vines, and other
pleasant flowers of divers colours, with gillofers and other herbs,
all made of satin, damask, silk, silver and gold, accordingly as the
natural trees, herbs, or flowers ought to be. In which arbour were six
ladies, all apparelled in white satin and green, set and embroidered
full of H. and K. of gold, knit together with laces of gold of damask,
and all their garments were replenished with glittering spangles gilt
over; and on their heads were bonnets all opened at the four quarters,
overfriezed with flat gold of damask. In this garden also were six
lords, apparelled in garments of purple satin, all of cuts with H. and
K. Every edge garnished with friezed gold, and every garment full of
posies, made in letters of fine gold in bullion, as thick as might be;
and every person had his name in like letters of massy gold. The
first, _C[oe]ur Loyal_; the second, _Bonne Volure_; the third, _Bon
Espoir_; the fourth, _Valiant Désire_; the fifth, _Bonne Foi_; the
sixth, _Amour Loyal_. Their hose, caps, and coats, were full of posies
and H. K.'s of fine gold in bullion, so the ground could scarce
appear, and yet in every void place were spangles of gold. When time
was come, the said pageant was brought forward into presence, and then
descended a lord and lady by couples, and then the minstrels, which
were disguised, also danced, and the lords and ladies danced, that it
was a pleasure to behold."
Such is old Hall's description of the pageant which now entered: and
it may easily be imagined that Sir Osborne, accustomed to a less
luxurious court, was somewhat astonished at the splendour of the
scene, if he was not much gratified by the good taste of the device.
When the eye of Henry, pampered with such gaudy food from day to day,
had taken in enough of the pageant, he rose from his seat, and waving
his hand for the musicians to cease, "Thanks, gentle lords and ladies;
thanks!" he cried; and taking off his own mask, added, "Let us ease
our faces of their vizards."
As he spoke, every one rose and unmasked; and Henry, taking Sir
Osborne by the hand, led him forward to the queen, while all eyes
naturally fixed upon him.
"Fair lady mine," said the king, "I bring you a good knight, Sir
Osborne Maurice, who, as you see, has wit at will, and who, I can
vouch, is as keen a champion in the saddle as he is a graceful dancer
in the hall. In short, he is a very gentle perfect knight, whom you
must cherish and receive for my love."
While Sir Osborne knelt and kissed the hand that she extended to him,
Katherine replied, "Indeed, my lord, you have brought me one that I
have longed to see. This is the good knight who, on his journey
towards London, took charge of my giddy girl and namesake, Katrine
Bulmer, and defended her from the Rochester rioters. Come hither,
Kate, and in our presence thank the knight for all the trouble I am
sure he had with thee upon the road."
"Nay, your grace," said Lady Katrine, advancing, "I have thanked him
once already, and men are all too saucy and conceited to thank them
twice."
"'Tis thou art saucy, my fair mistress," said the king, laughing; and
then bending down his head to the queen, who was still seated, he
whispered something to her which made her smile and raise her eyes to
the knight and Lady Katrine. "A handsome pair, indeed!" said she, in
reply to what the king had whispered. "But the banquet is ready."
"Lords and ladies," said Henry, raising his voice, "our royal mistress
will not let us part without our supper. All, then, come in pairs, for
in the White Hall is prepared a banquet. Sir Osborne, lead in Lady
Katrine there; you shall be coupled for an hour at least."
Sir Osborne glanced his eye to Lord Darby; but the earl was perfectly
master of his countenance, and looking as indifferent as if nothing
had happened, led in some other lady, while the knight endeavoured to
entertain Lady Katrine as well as he might, labouring under the
comfortable assurance that she would very much have preferred another
by her side.