The Works of William Harrison Ainsworth

by William Harrison Ainsworth

  “So much the better,” returned Sir Narcissus. “But mine the entertainment shall be. And I here invite you all to it.”

  “My best endeavors shall be used to content your worship,” replied the pantler. “We have had some good suppers in the Stone Kitchen ere now, but this shall exceed them all.”

  “It is well,” replied the knight. “Hairun, you had better bring your monkey to divert us.”

  “Right willingly, worshipful sir,” replied the bearward; “and if you have a cast-off suit of clothes to spare, I will deck him in them for the occasion.”

  “You will find my last suit at the By-ward Tower,” replied Sir Narcissus. “Og will give them to you; and you may, if you choose, confer upon him the name I have cast off with them.”

  “I will not fail to adopt your worship’s suggestion.” returned Hairun, smothering a laugh. “Henceforth I shall call my ape Xit, and who knows whether in due season he may not attain the dignity of knighthood?”

  Sir Narcissus did not exactly relish this remark, which made many of the guests smile; but he thought it better not to notice it, and taking a courteous leave of the hospitable bearward, proceeded to the Palace, where a lodging was now given him, and where he passed the remainder of the day with his friends in jollity and carousing. Nor was it until the clock had chimed midnight that he was left alone with his spouse.

  At what hour Sir Narcissus arose on the following morning does not appear. But at eight in the evening, attired as on the previous day, and accompanied by his dame in her wedding-dress, he repaired to the Stone Kitchen. He found the whole party assembled, including, besides those he had invited, Winwike and his son, a chubby youth of some ten years old, Mauger, Wolfytt, and Sorrocold. Sir Narcissus could have dispensed with the company of the three latter; but not desiring to quarrel with them, he put the best face he could upon the matter, and bade them heartily welcome. He found, too, that Hairun had literally obeyed his injunctions, and brought his monkey with him, dressed up in his old clothes.

  “Allow me to present Xit, the ape, to your worship,” said the bearward.

  “He is welcome,” replied Sir Narcissus, laughing, to conceal his vexation at the absurd resemblance which the animal bore to him.

  Sir Narcissus was then conducted to a seat at the head of the table. On the right was placed his lady, on the left, Dame Placida; while the pantler, who, as usual, filled the office of carver, faced him. The giants were separated by the other guests, and Ribald sat between Dames Placida and Potentia, both of whom he contrived to keep in most excellent humor. Peter Trusbut did not assert too much when he declared that the entertainment should surpass all that had previously been given in the Stone Kitchen; and not to be behindhand, the giants exceeded all their former efforts in the eating line. They did not, it is true, trouble themselves much with the first course, which consisted of various kinds of pottage and fish; though Og spoke in terms of rapturous commendation of a sturgeon’s jowl, and Magog consumed the best part of a pickled tunny-fish. But when these were removed, and the more substantial viands appeared, they set to work in earnest. Turning up their noses at the boiled capons, roasted bustards, stewed quails and other light matters, they, by one consent, assailed a large shield of brawn, and speedily demolished it. Their next incursion was upon a venison pasty — a soused pig followed — and while Gog prepared himself for a copious draught of Rhenish by a dish of anchovies, Magog, who had just emptied a huge two-handed flagon of bragget, sharpened his appetite — the edge of which was a little taken off — with a plate of pickled oysters. A fawn, roasted whole, with a pudding in its inside, now claimed their attention, and was pronounced delicious. Og then helped himself to a shoulder of mutton and olives; Gog to a couple of roasted ruffs; and Magog again revived his flagging powers with a dish of buttered crabs. At this juncture, the strong waters were introduced by the pantler, and proved highly acceptable to the laboring giants.

  Peter Trusbut performed wonders. In the old terms of his art, he leached the brawn, reared the goose, sauced the capon, spoiled the fowls, flushed the chickens, unlaced the rabbits, winged the quails, minced the plovers, thighed the pigeons, bordered the venison pasty, tranched the sturgeon, undertranched the tunny-fish, tamed the crab, and barbed the lobster.

  The triumphs of the repast now appeared. They were a baked swan, served in a coffin of rye-paste; a crane, likewise roasted whole; and a peacock, decorated with its tail. The first of these birds — to use his own terms — was reared by the pantler; the second displayed; and the last disfigured. And disfigured it was in more ways than one; for snatching the gaudy plumes from its tail, Sir Narcissus decorated his dame’s cap with them. The discussion of these noble dishes fully occupied the giants, and when they had consumed a tolerable share of each, they declared they had done. Nor could they be tempted with the narrow toasts, the fritters, the puddings, the wafers, and other cates and sweetmeats that followed, — though they did not display the like objection to the brimming cups of hippocras which wound up the repast.

  The only person who appeared to want appetite for the feast, or who, perhaps, was too busy to eat, was Sir Narcissus. For the first time in his life he played the part of host, and he acquitted himself to admiration. Ever and anon, rising in his chair, with a goblet of wine in his hand, he would pledge some guest, or call out to Peter Trusbut to fill some empty plate. He had a jest for every one; — abundance of well-turned compliments for the ladies; and the tenderest glances and whispers for his dame, who looked more lovesick and devoted than ever. By the time the cloth was removed, and the dishes replaced by flagons and pots of hydromel and wine, Sir Narcissus was in the height of his glory. The wine had got a little into his head, but not more than added to his exhilaration, and he listened with rapturous delight to the speech made by Og, who in good set terms proposed his health and that of his bride. The pledge was drunk with the utmost enthusiasm; and in the heat of his excitement, Sir Narcissus mounted on the table, and bowing all round, returned thanks in the choicest phrases he could summon. His speech received several interruptions from the applauses of his guests; and Hairun, who was bent upon mischief, thought this a favorable opportunity for practising it. During the banquet, he had kept the monkey in the background, but he now placed him on the table behind Sir Narcissus, whose gestures and posture the animal began to mimic. Its grimaces were so absurd and extraordinary, that the company roared with laughter, to the infinite astonishment of the speaker, who at the moment was indulging in a pathetic regret at the necessity he should be under of quitting his old haunts in consequence of his new dignities and duties; but his surprise was changed to anger, as he felt his sword suddenly twitched from the sheath, and beheld the grinning countenance of the ape close behind him. Uttering an exclamation of fury, he turned with the intention of sacrificing the cause of his annoyance on the spot; but the animal was too quick for him, and springing on his shoulders, plucked off his cap, and twisted its fingers in his well-curled hair, lugging him tremendously. Screaming with pain and rage, Sir Narcissus ran round the table, upsetting all in his course, but unable to free himself from his tormentor, who, keeping fast hold of his head, grinned and chattered as if in mockery of his vociferations.

  Lady le Grand had not noticed the monkey’s first proceedings, her attention being diverted by Ribald, who pressed her, with many compliments upon her charms, to take a goblet of malmsey which he had poured out for her. But she no sooner perceived what was going forward, than she flew to the rescue, beat off the monkey, and hugging her little lord to her bosom, almost smothered him with kisses and caresses. Nor were Dames Placida and Potentia less attentive to him. At first they had treated the matter as a joke, but seeing the diminutive knight was really alarmed, they rubbed his head, patted him on the back, embraced him as tenderly as Lady le Grand would permit, and loudly upbraided Hairun for his misconduct. Scarcely able to conceal his laughter, the offender pretended the utmost regret, and instantly sent off the monkey by one of the attendants to the Li
ons’ Tower.

  It was some time before Sir Narcissus could be fully appeased; and it required all the blandishments of the dames, and the humblest apologies from Hairun, to prevent him from quitting the party in high dudgeon. At length, however, he was persuaded by Magog to wash down his resentment in a bottle of sack, brewed by the pantler, and the generous drink restored him to instant good-humor. Called upon by the company to conclude his speech, he once more ventured upon the table, and declaiming bitterly against the interruption he had experienced, finished his oration amid the loudest cheers. He then bowed round in his most graceful manner, and returned to his chair.

  It had already been stated that Mauger, Sorrocold, and Wolfytt were among the guests. The latter had pretty nearly recovered from the wound inflicted by Nightgall, which proved, on examination, by no means dangerous; and, regardless of the consequences, he ate, drank, laughed, and shouted as lustily as the rest. The other two being of a more grave and saturnine character, seldom smiled at what was going forward; and though they did not neglect to fill their goblets, took no share in the general conversation, but sat apart in a corner near the chimney with Winwike, discussing the terrible scenes they had witnessed in their different capacities, with the true gusto of amateurs.

  “And so Lady Jane Grey and her husband will positively be executed to-morrow?” observed Winwike. “There is no chance of further reprieve, I suppose?”

  “None whatever,” replied Mauger. “Father Feckenham, I understand, offered her two days more if she would prolong her disputation with him, but she refused No — no. There will be no further respite. She will suffer on the Green — her husband on Tower Hill.”

  “So I heard,” replied Sorrocold—” Poor soul! she is very young — not seventeen, I am told.”

  “Poh — poh!” cried Mauger gruffly—” there’s nothing in that. Life is as sweet at seventy as seventeen. However, I’ll do my work as quickly as I can. If you wish to see a head cleanly taken off, get as near the scaffold as you can.”

  “I shall not fail to do so,” returned Sorrocold. “I would not miss it for the world.”

  “As soon as the clock strikes twelve, and the Sabbath is ended,” continued Mauger, “my assistants will begin to put up the scaffold. You know the spot before St. Peter’s Chapel. They say the grass won’t grow there. But that’s an old woman’s tale — ho! ho!”

  “Old woman’s tale, or not,” rejoined Winwike gravely— “it’s true. I’ve often examined the spot, and never could find a blade of herbage there.”

  “Well, well,” rejoined Mauger, “I won’t dispute the point. Believe it, and welcome. I could tell other strange tales concerning that place. It’s a great privilege to be beheaded there, and only granted to illustrious personages. The last two who fell there were Queen Catherine Howard, and her confidante, the Countess of Rochford. Lady Jane Grey would be beheaded on Tower Hill, with her husband, but they are afraid of the mob, who might compassionate the youthful pair, and occasion a riot. It’s better to be on the safe side — ho! ho!”

  “You said you had some other strange tales to tell concerning that place,” observed Sorrocold. “What are they?”

  “I don’t much like talking about them,” rejoined Mauger reluctantly, “but since I’ve dropped a hint on the subject, I may as well speak out. You must know, then, that the night before the execution of the old Countess of Salisbury, who would not lay her head upon the block, and whom I was obliged to chase round the scaffold and bring down how I could — the night before she fell — and a bright moonlight night it was — I was standing on the scaffold putting it in order for the morrow, when all at once there issued from the church porch a female figure, shrouded from head to foot in white.”

  “Well!” exclaimed Sorrocold breathlessly.

  “Well,” returned the headsman, “though filled with alarm, I never took my eyes from it, but watched it glide slowly round the scaffold, and finally return to the porch, where it disappeared.”

  “Did you address it?” asked Winwike.

  “Not I,” replied Mauger. “My tongue clove to the roof of my mouth. I could not have spoken to save my life.”

  “Strange!” exclaimed Sorrocold. “Did you ever see it again?”

  “Yes, on the night before Catherine Howard’s execution,” replied Mauger; “and I have no doubt it will appear to-night.”

  “Do you think so?” cried Sorrocold. “I will watch for it.”

  “I shall visit the scaffold myself an hour after midnight,” returned Mauger—” you can accompany me if you think proper.”

  “Agreed!” exclaimed the chirurgeon.

  They were here interrupted by a boisterous roar of merriment from the other guests. While their sombre talk was going on, Ribald, who had made considerable progress in the good graces of Lady le Grand, had related a merry tale, and at its close, which was attended with shouts of laughter, Sir Narcissus ordered a fresh supply of wine, and the vast measures were promptly replenished by the pantler. Several pleasant hours were thus consumed, until at last Sir Narcissus arose, or rather attempted to rise, for his limbs refused their office, and his gaze was rather unsteady, and addressed his friends as follows: “Farewell, my merry gossips,” he hiccuped—” farewell! As I am now a married man, I must keep go-o-o-d hours.” (At this moment the clock struck twelve.) “I have already trespassed too much on Lady le Grand’s good nature. She is getting sleepy. So, to speak truth, am I. I shall often visit you again — as often, at least, as my dignities and duties will permit. Do not stand in awe of my presence. I shall always unbend with you — always. The truly great are never proud — at least to their inferiors. With their superiors it is a different matter. This alone would convince you of my illustrious origin.”

  “True,” cried Gog, “no one would suspect you of being the son of a groom of the pantry, for instance.”

  “No one,” repeated Xit fiercely, and making an ineffectual attempt to draw his sword, “or if he did suspect it, he should never live to repeat it.”

  “Well, well,” replied Gog meekly. “I don’t suspect it.”

  “None of us suspect it,” laughed Og.

  “I am qu-quite sa-sa-satisfied,” replied Sir Narcissus! “More wine, old Trusbut. Fill the pots, pantler. I’ll give you a r-r-r-rousing pledge.”

  “And so will I,” cried his dame, who, like her lord, was a little the worse for the wine she had swallowed — her goblet being kept constantly filled by the assiduous Ribald—” so will I, if you don’t come home directly, you little sot.”

  “Lady le Gr-r-and,” cried Sir Narcissus furiously, “I’ll divorce you. I’ll behead you as Harry the Eighth did Anne Boleyn.”

  “No chuck, you won’t,” replied the lady. “You will think better of it to-morrow.” So saying, she snatched him up in her arms, and despite his resistance, carried him off to his lodging in the palace, long before reaching which he had fallen asleep, and when he awoke next morning, he had but a very confused recollection of the events of the preceding night.

  And here, as it will be necessary to take leave of our little friend, we will give a hasty glance at his subsequent history. Within a year of his union, a son was born to him, who speedily eclipsed his sire in stature, and in due season became a stalwart, well-proportioned man, six feet in height, and bearing a remarkable resemblance to Ribald. Sir Narcissus was exceedingly fond of him; and it was rather a droll sight to see them together. The dwarfish knight continued to rise in favor with the Queen, and might have been constantly with the court had he pleased, but as he preferred, from old habits and associations, residing within the Tower, he was allowed apartments in the palace, of which he was termed, in derision, the grand seneschal. On Elizabeth’s accession, he was not removed, but retained his post till the middle of the reign of James the First, when he died full of years and honors — active, vain, and consequential to the last, and from his puny stature, always looking young. He was interred in front of St. Peter’s Chapel on the Green, near his old
friends the giants, who had preceded him some years to the land of shadows and the stone that marks his grave may still be seen.

  As to the three gigantic warders, they retained their posts, and played their parts at many a feast and high solemnity during Elizabeth’s golden rule, waxing in girth and bulk as they advanced in years, until they became somewhat gross and unwieldy. Og, who had been long threatened with apoplexy, his head being almost buried in his enormous shoulders, expired suddenly in his chair after a feast; and his two brethren took his loss so much to heart, that they abstained altogether from the flask, and followed him in less than six months, dying, it was thought, of grief, but more probably of dropsy. Their resting-place has been already indicated. In the same spot, also, lie Lady le Grand, Dame Placida, and the worthy pantler and his spouse. Magog was a widower during the later part of his life, and, exhibited no anxiety to enter a second time into the holy state of matrimony. Og and Gog died unmarried.

  CHAPTER XL.

  OF THE VISION SEEN BY MAUGER AND SORROCOLD ON THE TOWER GREEN.

  AFTER the forcible abduction of Sir Narcissus by his spouse, the party broke up — Og and Gog shaping their course to the By-ward Tower, Magog and his spouse, together with Ribald, who had taken up his quarters with them, to their lodging on the hill leading to the Green, Hairun to the Lions’ Tower, Winwike and his son to the Flint Tower, while Mauger, Wolfytt, and Sorrocold proceeded to the Cradle Tower. Unfastening his door, the headsman struck a light, and setting fire to a lamp, motioned the other to a bench, and placed a stone jar of strong waters before them, of which Wolfytt took a long deep pull, but the chirurgeon declined it.

  “I have had enough,” he said. “Besides, I want to see the spirit.”

  “I care for no other spirit but this,” rejoined Wolfytt, again applying his mouth to the jar.