WINNING THE PEACOCK
On the forenoon of St. John the Baptist's Day the Londoners crowded to
Smithfield to celebrate the festival with sports and diversions; and
thither I, mounting my horse, accompanied my grandsire and Thomelin of
Winchester.
Various were the spectacles there exhibited to please the populace; and
much was I interested with what I beheld. At one place a glee-woman
was dancing round an unmuzzled bear, which endeavoured to seize her,
while the keeper scourged the animal to excite its fury; at another,
two men, in warlike attire, armed with brand and buckler, were playing
at the sword-dance of the Anglo-Saxons to the sound of music, while a
woman danced round them as they combated; at a third, wrestlers were
exercising their skill in various attitudes; in one of which, said
to have been derived from the ancient Greeks, two men, each mounted
on the back of a comrade, encountered like knights on horseback, and
endeavoured to secure victory by pulling his antagonist to the ground.
But the chief point of attraction was a broad space, inclosed with
railings and covered with sawdust, where the youthful Londoners, in
imitation of apprentices to chivalry, were about to display their
dexterity at the quintain. In the courtyards of princes and feudal
magnates, the quintain was a wooden figure, made to resemble Saladin
the Great, or Bibars Bendocdar, or some other famous Saracen, holding a
shield in one hand, and brandishing a sabre in the other. However, that
erected in Smithfield was of a humbler description. In fact, it was
very much like a turnstile with two arms, which revolved on a spindle,
on one of which was a painted board resembling a shield, while from the
other hung a bag filled with sand.
Mounted on horseback, the youth, armed with a long staff or blunt
lance, rode at the quintain, and aimed at the wooden shield. If he
failed to strike it, all the spectators laughed him to scorn; and if he
struck it without making an escape in time, he was exposed, not only to
the ridicule of the spectators, but to the inconvenience of receiving a
severe blow on the neck from the sand-bag.
In other days, when the game of quintain was played at Smithfield,
squires and pages of the king's household had taken part in the
diversion, and added interest to the competition. Such was no longer
the case. On the present occasion, however, the crowd flocked to
witness the contest with more than the ordinary curiosity; for it was
known that John Hammond, Mayor of London, was to be present to award
the prize; and it was rumoured that the mayor was to do so because
the Prince of Wales intended to ride from Westminster to witness the
competition.
As the hour when the competitors were to mount approached, the crowd,
pressing, surging, and swaying, gathered round the inclosed space, and
manifested their interest in the coming contest by shouting the names
of their favourites. My grandsire, whose high head and white hair
commanded so much reverence that the spectators instinctively made
way for him, guided me to a place near the lord mayor's chair, and
was evincing much anxiety to lay before that functionary my claim to
compete for the peacock, when suddenly all attention was withdrawn from
the quintain by a cry of "The prince comes--long live the Prince of
Wales!"
I turned as the shout rose; and as the prince, with a train of young
nobles, and squires, and pages, rode up to the lord mayor, I gazed
for the first time, and earnestly, on the young hero, who, ere long,
was to prove himself the flower of all the chivalry of his age. At
that time Edward was not more than fifteen; but he was tall for his
years, fair to look upon, and distinguished by the manly beauty and
the intellectual air of the great Plantagenet race. Trained to feats
of strength in the tilt-yard and in the forest, his frame was strong
and vigorous, and his face glowed with health; and, as he rode forward
and uncovered his head, his grace and elegance of bearing moved the
admiration of the multitude, who, with one voice, renewed their shouts
of welcome and applause.
And now the business of the day commenced in earnest, and the youths
of London, one after another, mounted and rode at the quintain. The
result was not gratifying to the pride of the citizens. Indeed, fortune
proved adverse to each competitor in turn. Some altogether missed the
mark; others, after hitting the shield, failed to retire in time to
escape the blow of the sand-bag; and several who, in both respects,
were successful in two trials, failed in the third attempt, and were
consequently judged to have forfeited all claim to the prize. The
crowd jeered; the mayor looked gloomy; and the cavaliers surrounding
the prince sneered in contempt of the city chivalry; and many of the
Londoners who had intended to compete, discouraged by the failure of
their compeers, and fearing to tempt fortune, deemed it more discreet
to submit to obscurity than to expose themselves to ridicule, and
declined to try their skill.
It was at this stage of the proceedings that my grandsire, leading my
horse by the rein, drew nigh to the chair of the lord mayor, and raised
his voice.
"Sir," said the old man, "my grandson, who, albeit not a Londoner, is a
lad of mettle, and much given to exercises of this kind, would fain try
his skill, if he had your permission so to do."
"I know not how that may be," replied the mayor, eyeing me with
interest, "seeing that the competition is intended for the youths of
the city; and if a stranger bore off the prize, men might say that----"
"That you had taken the children's bread and given it to dogs,"
interrupted I, with a disdainful toss of the head; "wherefore, my lord
mayor, I will not trespass so far on your courtesy as to ask you to
relax the rules."
"A bold youth, on my faith," said the mayor, starting and colouring.
"However, my lord the prince shall decide."
"By good St. George! my lord mayor," exclaimed the prince, to whom my
display of spirit seemed the reverse of displeasing, "were I in your
place, I should certainly relax the rules, in order to make the sport
more worthy of the occasion."
"If such be your pleasure, my lord, I will strain a point;" and my
grandsire waving his hat in the air, said--
"Now, Arthur, lad, ride; and bear in mind that it is to the prince you
are beholden for the privilege granted thee."
I lost no time in obeying my grandsire; and, a new candidate for the
peacock having been announced, the crowd, with renewed interest,
turned again to the inclosed space, and speculated on my chances
of success. Nor, stranger as I was, did I meet with a discouraging
reception. At first, indeed, my rustic garments evoked remarks not
highly complimentary. But a closer examination disarmed prejudice; and
my firm seat, my equestrian skill, and something of juvenile audacity
with which I handled my blunt lance, created such an impression in
my favour, that the crowd raised an inciting cheer; and the prince,
turning to Roger, Lord De Ov, a young baron of high rank, who rode by
his side, exclaimed--
"A strong and handsome stripling, and one likely to acquit himself with
honour, here and elsewhere."
"A likely lad is Arthur," muttered Thomelin of Winchester to my
grandsire; "and, in the prince's presence, will do credit to his
bringing up."
Nor did mine host of the Falcon speak without prescience. Managing
my steed with perfect facility, and displaying with my weapon a
familiarity that had not characterised the Londoners who had preceded
me, I spurred towards the quintain, struck the shield fairly, and, ere
the spindle could revolve, retreated with seeming ease amid shouts of
applause. Three times I repeated the attempt, and on each occasion
performed the feat with such success, that the crowd shouted louder and
louder in compliment to my skill.
"Gallantly and dexterously done," said the prince, as, flushed with
exertion and excitement, I was brought to the presence of the mayor,
and uncovered my head.
I bowed low to the compliment so sincerely expressed.
"Thy name, youth?" said the prince.
"My lord," I answered, "my name is Arthur."
"And your surname?" continued the prince.
"I have no surname, my lord," replied I; "but since I won the ram at
the wrestling match at Windsor, on May Day, men have called me Arthur
Winram."
"Arthur Winram," said the prince, smiling. "Beshrew me! it sounds well,
and is a name that a ballad-maker would deem worthy to put in verse.
However," continued he, "I trust you will live to make yourself a
name worthy of your skill. Meanwhile," he added, "carry with you this
comfort, that your performance to-day has been marked and appreciated
by your king's son."
"Ha! my lord," interposed the Lord De Ov, "this hardly beseems you. We
have already tarried here long enough. Why waste words on this young
rustic? Let us ride;" and he laid his hand on the prince's rein.
"Roger De Ov, you forget yourself," said the prince haughtily, as
he was led off, after exchanging courtesies with the mayor; while
I, having watched his departure with a flashing eye, turned to my
grandsire, whose brow was bent darkly and sternly.
"Grandsire," asked I, my heart swelling with rage and mortification,
"who is that man?"
"What matters it, Arthur, my lad?" answered my grandsire, recovering
with a start. "Be calm and be silent, and thine hour will come.
Patience is a good palfrey, and will carry thee through many a day's
journey."
"I could feel it in my heart to follow the miscreant, and strike him,
even in the prince's presence," said I.
"And ruin yourself for ever. Nay, nay. Better let us carry the peacock
you have won to the Falcon, and drink a cup with Thomelin, my cousin,
ere we mount and ride homeward."
"Ay," said Thomelin; "let us to the Falcon."
And we went.