A peck of provande on a day.
Elsewhere, too, the same writer says—
A maystur of horsys a squyer ther is,
Aveyner and ferour under him i-wys.
Our ‘Palfreymans’ (‘John le Palfreyman,’ M.), though not always official, I do not doubt had duties also of a similar character in looking after the well-being of their mistress’s palfrey, and attending the lady herself when she rode to the cover, or took an airing on the more open and breezy hillside.
The two great amusements of the period we are considering were the hunt and the tournament. Of the former we have many relics, nor is the latter barren or unfruitful of terms connected therewith that still linger on in the surnames of to-day. The exciting encounters which took place in these chivalric meetings or jousts had a charm alike for the Saxon and the Norman; alike, too, for spectator as well as for him who engaged in the fierce mêlée. Training for this was by no means left to the discretion of amateur intelligence. In three several records of the thirteenth century I find such names as ‘Peter le Eskurmesur,’ ‘Henry le Eskyrmessur,’ and ‘Roger le Skirmisour.’ The root of these terms is, of course, the old French verb ‘eskirmir,’ to fence. It is thence we get our skirmish and scrimmage, the latter form, though looked upon now as of a somewhat slang character, being found in the best of society in our earlier writers. Originally it denoted a hand-to-hand encounter between two horsemen. We still imply by a skirmish a short and sharp conflict between the advanced posts of two contending armies. As a teacher of ‘the noble art of self-defence,’[[216]] we can easily understand how important was the skirmisher. The name has become much corrupted by lapse of time, scarcely recognisable, in fact, in such a garb as ‘Scrimmenger,’ ‘Skrymsher,’ ‘Skrimshire,’ and perchance ‘Scrimshaw,’ forms which I find in our present London and provincial directories. Of those who were wont to engage we have already mentioned the majority. All the different grades of nobility were present, and with them were their esquires, with shield and buckler, ready to supply a fresh unsplintered lance, or a new shield, with its proudly emblazoned crest. I need scarce remind the reader of what consequence in such a day as this would be the costume of him who thus engaged in such deadly conflict. The invention of gunpowder has changed the early tactics of fight. Battles are lost and won now long ere the real mêlée has taken place. Then everything, whether in war or tournament, was settled face to face. To pierce his opponent where an inlet could admit his spear, or to unhorse him by the shock of meeting, was the knight’s one aim. The bloodiness of such an affray can be better imagined than described. We still hear of distorted features in the after inspection of the scene of battle, but we can have no conception of the mangling that the bodies of horse and rider underwent, the inevitable result of the earlier manner of warfare. Death is mercifully quick now upon the battle-field. We have still three or four professional surnames that remind us of this. We have still our ‘Jackmans,’ or ‘Jakemans,’ as representatives of the former cavalry; so called from the ‘jack’ or coat of mail they wore. It is this latter article which has bequeathed to our youngsters of the nineteenth century their more peaceful and diminutive jacket. Thus mailed and horsed, they had to encounter the cruel onslaught of our ‘Spearmans,’ and ‘Pikemans,’ and ‘Billmans,’ names that themselves suggest how bloody would be the strife when hatchet blade, and sharp pike, and keen sword clashed together. To cover and shield the body, then, was the one thought of these early days of military tactics, and at the same time to give the fullest play to every limb and sinew. This was a work of a most careful nature, and no wonder it demanded the combined skill of several craftsmen. Such occupative sobriquets as ‘Adam le Armerer’ or ‘Simon le Armurer’ are now represented by the curter ‘Armer’ or ‘Armour.’ In the ‘Knight’s Tale’ it is said—
There were also of Martes division
Th’ armerer, and the bowyer, and the smith,
That forgeth sharpe swerdes on his stith.
Our ‘Frobishers,’ ‘Furbishers,’ and ‘Furbers,’ once found as ‘Richard le Fourbishour’ or ‘Alan le Fourbour,’ scoured and prepared the habergeon, or jack just referred to, while ‘Gilbert le Hauberger’ or ‘John le Haubergeour’ was more immediately engaged in constructing it. Our present Authorized Version, I need hardly say, still retains the word. In ‘Sire Thopas,’ too, it is used where it is said—