The newcomer up in the oriole looked down upon the scene before him as
if bewildered by the weird sight. Every now and then he buried his face
in his hands as if to shut out the picture, and then suddenly raised it
again to stare wildly, while his lips moved constantly as if in prayer.
The vast height of the great groined roof left the whole upper portion
of the Hall in darkness, with here and there a bit of carving thrown
out into sudden relief by a flickering torch uplifted in the arms of
one below. Here some fierce dragon flung itself from the gloom, and
as suddenly retreated; there some monstrous carved face grinned for
an instant and fell back; a griffin claw struck at the blackness and
was itself overcome; the deep recesses in the mullioned windows were
the home of grewsome mysteries. The great table on the raised dais was
brilliantly illuminated in spots where the tall gold candelabra stood.
The centrepiece stood out clearly, a swan in full plumage, its beak
gilded, its body silvered, resting on a mass of brown pastry painted
green to represent a field of grass. Eight banners of rose-colored
silk surrounded this _pièce de résistance_ and a cloth of the same
covered the mound upon which it was placed, so that it towered high
above all the other dishes. Along the table shone great golden goblets
with wide-open lids studded with gleaming jewels, silver and gold
salt-cellars of strange designs, and the nef, a great ship of gold,
enamelled with dragons, on four golden wheels, containing spices and
sweetmeats. Also there were, rare sight indeed, forks of gilded silver
with exquisitely wrought handles, a gift from the Countess looked upon
with small favor by the conservative Baron.
Between the tiny spots of light, amid the glitter of gold and silver,
gleamed the rich colors of the costumes, crimson and peacock and
emerald, cendals of delicate blue and royal purple, and the sparkle
of rare jewels. The light fell here and there on the face of some
bearded noble or gentle lady, while immediately above these, from the
tapestried wall, showed proud peacocks, clusters of flowers, or scenes
from the chase. Over the head of de Leaufort hung the arms of his
house, while it chanced that just above the Legate snarled the hideous
fangs of a wolf standing at bay.
As the trembling Dante gazed awestruck down into the pit of Hell, so
Annys--for the newcomer was he--thinking of the great Florentine,
looked down from the oriole on the scene of revelry before him. A light
song floated down from the minstrels, silencing the gay chatter, and
turning upwards the faces of all. Among them flashed for an instant
the one face that stood between Annys and the Grace of God--the most
beautiful face in all England, and now the saddest as well.
"Sumer is icumen in,
Thude sing cuccu;
Groweth seed, and bloweth mead,
And springeth the wod nu,
Sing cuccu!"