Each new course, heralded by a flourish of silver trumpets, was borne in by liveried servants walking two and two, with rubicund marshals strutting in front and behind, bearing white wands in their hands, not only as badges of their office, but also as weapons with which to repel any impertinent inroad upon the dishes in the journey from the kitchen to the hall. Boars’ heads, enarmed and endored with gilt tusks and flaming mouths, were followed by wondrous pasties molded to the shape of ships, castles and other devices with sugar seamen or soldiers who lost their own bodies in their fruitless defence against the hungry attack. Finally came the great nef, a silver vessel upon wheels laden with fruit and sweetmeats which rolled with its luscious cargo down the line of guests. Flagons of Gascony, of Rhine wine, of Canary and of Rochelle were held in readiness by the attendants; but the age, though luxurious, was not drunken, and the sober habits of the Norman had happily prevailed over the license of those Saxon banquets, where no guest might walk from the table without a slur upon his host. Honour and hardihood go ill with a shaking hand or a blurred eye.
While wine, fruit, and spices were handed round the high tables the squires had been served in turn at the farther end of the hall. Meanwhile round the king there had gathered a group of statesmen and soldiers, talking eagerly among themselves. The Earl of Stafford, the Earl of Warwick, the Earl of Arundel, Lord Beauchamp and Lord Neville were assembled at the back of his chair, with Lord Percy and Lord Mowbray at either side. The little group blazed with golden chains and jeweled chaplets, flame-coloured paltocks and purple tunics.
Of a sudden the king said something over his shoulder to Sir William de Pakyngton the herald, who advanced and stood by the royal chair. He was a tall and noble-featured man, with long grizzled beard which rippled down to the gold-linked belt girdling his many-coloured tabard. On his head he had placed the heraldic barret-cap which bespoke his dignity, and he slowly raised his white wand high in the air, while a great hush fell upon the hall.
“My lords of England,” said he, “knight bannerets, knights, squires, and all others here present of gentle birth and coat-armour, know that your dread and sovereign lord, Edward, King of England and of France, bids me give you greeting and commands you to come hither that he may have speech with you.”
In an instant the tables were deserted and the whole company had clustered in front of the king’s chair. Those who had sat on either side of him crowded inward, so that his tall dark figure upreared itself amid the dense circle of his guests.
With a flush upon his olive cheeks and with pride smouldering in his dark eyes, he looked round him at the eager faces of the men who had been his comrades from Sluys and Cadsand to Crécy and Calais. They caught fire from that warlike gleam in his masterful gaze, and a sudden wild, fierce shout pealed up to the vaulted ceiling, a soldierly thanks for what was passed and a promise for what was to come. The king’s teeth gleamed in a quick smile, and his large white hand played with the jeweled dagger in his belt.
“By the splendour of God!” said he in a loud clear voice, “I have little doubt that you will rejoice with me this night, for such tidings have come to my ears as may well bring joy to every one of you. You know well that our ships have suffered great scathe from the Spaniards, who for many years have slain without grace or ruth all of my people who have fallen into their cruel hands. Of late they have sent their ships into Flanders, and thirty great cogs and galleys lie now at Sluys well-filled with archers and men-at-arms and ready in all ways for battle. I have it today from a sure hand that, having taken their merchandise aboard, these ships will sail upon the next Sunday, and will make their way through our Narrow Sea. We have for a great time been long-suffering to these people, for which they have done us many contraries and despites, growing ever more arrogant as we grow more patient. It is in my mind therefore that we hie us tomorrow to Winchelsea, where we have twenty ships, and make ready to sally out upon them as they pass. May God and Saint George defend the right!”
A second shout, far louder and fiercer than the first, came like a thunderclap after the king’s words. It was the bay of a fierce pack to their trusted huntsman.
Edward laughed again as he looked round at the gleaming eyes, the waving arms, and the flushed joyful faces of his liegemen.
“Who hath fought against these Spaniards?” he asked. “Is there anyone here who can tell us what manner of men they be?”
A dozen hands went up into the air; but the king turned to the Earl of Suffolk at his elbow.
“You have fought them, Thomas?” said he.
“Yes, sire, I was in the great sea-fight eight years ago at the Island of Guernsey, when Lord Lewis of Spain held the sea against the Earl of Pembroke.”
“How found you them, Thomas?”
“Very excellent people, sire, and no man could ask for better. On every ship they have a hundred crossbowmen of Genoa, the best in the world, and their spearmen also are very hardy men. They would throw great cantles of iron from the tops of the masts, and many of our people met their death through it. If we can bar their way in the Narrow Sea, then there will be much hope of honour for all of us.”
“Your words are very welcome, Thomas,” said the king, “and I make no doubt that they will show themselves to be
