Gloriana

reward. A lord or two was made and estates granted in Virginia, in Cathay, in Hibernia, to sober men whom Lord Montfallcon judged trustworthy to enjoy the responsibilities of wealth and, by sharing to a greater degree in the bounty of the State, support the Realm’s interest with that much more resolution. Envoys were sent abroad, taking certificates and letters; foreign envoys were, in turn, received, and their letters read, greetings given. Nine little girls (each one a stage younger than the last, Gloriana’s natural daughters) led lambs across the flooded lawns and, sneezing, lisped their pastoral rhymes until the Queen begged their nurses to hurry them within and dry them before they perished of a chill.

The Quintain was abandoned until the next day (or until the sun should shine). The Sun Chariot, in which posed an embarrassed, sorry Lord Ransley, as Mithras, God of Light, half-naked and damp in collapsed yellow ruff and britches, drawn by youths and maidens, also in yellow, to represent the sun’s beams, came and went, making dark marks across the squelching grass. The musicians, as satyrs and nymphs, were ordered to withdraw to the Great Hall, where the dance would now be held, and the Procession through the Tree Walk was abandoned. It was decided to continue with the ceremony whereby Gloriana would be bound to the May Pole by her courtiers and released by Sir Tancred, who would represent the Chivalry of Albion, unless the rain grew heavier, for the pole itself was now protected by a large square of canvas, rigged like a sail above it. Master Wheldrake was asked to come forward and read another poem.

His feathers shimmering with water, which he scattered everywhere as he gesticulated, Ernest Wheldrake announced his intention to read some recent stanzas from his long epic romance, which he had been writing for the past six years, called Atargatis; or, the Celestrial Virgin. “You’ll recall, Your Majesty, that Sir Felicites, the Shepherd Knight, has but lately left the company of Sir Hemetes, the Hermit Knight, who has set him again upon his true path in his quest for the Court of Queen Atargatis. But before he can reach the Court he must encounter many more adventures, each one of which teaches him a further lesson and so prepares him for his position as the Queen’s Protector, who must encompass Wisdom, Temperance and Justice within him, as well as Courage, Virtue and Charity.” A bead of water rolled along his beak and splashed upon his costumed foot.

“We recall your story Master Wheldrake, and listen with considerable and pleasurable anticipation to its continuation,” graciously replied the May Queen as Master Wheldrake drew a damp-stained volume from his plumage and cleared his throat:

“Now through a forest drear our goodly knight

Did slowly ride in doubtful fear,

Anon, he came upon a sight:

A woodsman tall with axe did shear

Through sturdy oak and noble ash

And elm and rowan tree

With flying blade did trunk and branches gash

So that Felicites cried out to him to cease

While, lowering lance, he signall’d peace.

’Woodsman, what art thou named?’ Quoth he,

’You, who art so strong of loin and thew,

Pray tell me what your fearsome purpose be

To hew so heavily the pine and yew

And threaten this whole wood to slay

And cause the healthy roots to die

So turning all this green to black and grey

When not a trunk’s left standing high.

How art thou named? Say I.’

The woodsman’s hair with radiant silver shone

So that his face could not be seen,

His beard, like burnish’d gold, it fell upon

A mighty chest of iron, both jet and green,

And eyes like two fierce stars stared out of him

While arms and hands were shimmering rose.

And now the knight in awefull woe fell back.

’My name be Chronos, Lord of Time!’ the giant did cry,

’And Leveller, my axe, makes all comply!’

’For, in truth,’ this giant continued in sober voice,

’With Life and Death there must be always Harmony,

And, since Man’s own mind cannot make the choice,

To regulate the spinning globe the Gods entrusted me:

Thus hour shall follow hour and day pass day

And year pursue each rounded year.

’But this be unjust tyranny,’ Felicites did say

’Which causeth foolish folk to grieve and mourn,

To question: An they die then whyfore are they born?’

’Time’s circle turneth,’ said the giant, ’as do the spheres,

And four ages quarter up the mortal span

As Seasons subdivide the steady years.

Thus do the Gods describe a Sign for Man,

That when in his last age he’ll wither

His birth shall surely come again.

And though Death’s hand shall call him thither,

Life’s gentle lips shall stir new breath in him;

And thus Man’s Winter giveth way to Spring.’

’Certes,’ said Felicites as he took rein,

’’Tis true that all must die so all can live anon,

And if thine action, Chronos, bringeth Man to pain,

So also doth it bring great joy to every one.

And shall I ride this forest path another hour

I’ll find that all yon ruin is no more,

That trees do bloom and beauteous plants do flower

While bounding Hope doth take momentous wing

And Glory rule throughout thy golden Spring!’”

In spite of the rain, it was Wheldrake’s moment. Not a soul in that gathering failed to be fired by the ideals and wisdom of his epic lines, save perhaps Una, Countess of Scaith, who, joining in the general applause, somehow managed to clap just a fraction out of time with the rest. Even Wheldrake took congratulations with better grace than was usual, leading Una to believe that he had at last accepted the demands of the audience and determined to please their taste rather than his own.

The rain had stopped. A little sun shone through the cloud. The awnings were pulled free and rolled aside. Curious deer continued to chew and stare from the glinting cover of the sweet-smelling oaks.

“See, Master Wheldrake, your words banish the grey skies and lure the sun from hiding!” flattered the May Queen as she advanced towards the laurel-bound pole, to fling herself upon it and laugh as the musicians reappeared with tabor, horn and flute, to mingle with the courtiers as each took a strand of bunting and began to dance, twisting this way and that, to secure a girlish, joyous Gloriana to the mighty staff of spring, to bind this