A rude oak table of enormous strength extended two-thirds of the length of the hall. At the end another “board,” raised a foot higher, formed the letter T with the lower one; and in its centre, just opposite the junction, sat Sir Nicholas in a chair of state, surmounted by a canopy; on his right hand the Lady Sybil, on his left the hero of the night, our Hubert.
The walls of the hall were wainscoted with dark oak, richly carved; and hung round with suits of antique and modern armour, rudely dinted; with tattered banners, stained with the life blood of those who had borne them in many a bloody field at home and abroad. There were the horns of enormous deer, the tusks of patriarchal boars; war against man and beast was ever the burden of the chorus of life then.
And the supper—shall I give the bill of fare?
First, the fish. Everything that swam in the rivers of the Weald (they be coarse and small) was there; perch, roach, carp, tench (pike not come into England yet). And of sea fish—herrings, mackerel, soles, salmon, porpoises—a goodly number.
Secondly, the birds. A peacock at the high board, goodly to look upon, bitter to eat; two swans (oh, how tough); vultures, puffins, herons, cranes, curlews, pheasants, partridges (out of season or in season didn’t matter); and scores of domestic fowls—hens, geese, pigeons, ducks, et id genus omne.
Thirdly, the beasts. Two deer, five boars from the forest, come to pay their last respects to the young crusader; and to leave indigestion, perhaps, as a reminder of their fealty. From the barnyard, ten little porkers, roasted whole; one ox, four sheep—only the best joints of these, the rest given away; and two succulent calves.
Of the pastry—twelve gallons cream, twenty gallons curds, three bushels of last autumn’s apples were the foundation; two bushels of flour; almonds and raisins. Yes, they had already got them in England.
In point of variety, they a little overdid it; sometimes mingling wine, cheese, honey, raisins, olives, eggs, yea, and vinegar, all in one grand dish. It sets the teeth on edge to think of it.
As for the wines, there were Bordeaux (Gascon), and Malmsey (Rhenish), and Romeneye, Bastard and Osey (very sweet the last two); and for liquors hippocras and clary (not claret).
All was profusion, not to say waste, but the poor had a good time afterwards. And when the desire of eating and drinking was satisfied, the harpers and gleemen began; and first the chief harper, with hoary beard, sang his solo: