To Grisell it sounded like her doom on one side, the crisis of her self-sacrifice, and the opening of Leonard’s happiness on the other.
CHAPTER XXVIII
THE PAGEANT
When I may read of tilts in days of old,
And tourneys graced by chieftains of renown,
Fair dames, grave citoyens, and warriors bold—
If fancy would pourtray some stately town,
Which for such pomp fit theatre would be,
Fair Bruges, I shall then remember thee.Southey, Pilgrimage to Waterloo.
Leonard Copeland was in close attendance on the Duke, and could not give a moment to visit his friends at the Green Serpent, so that there was no knowing how the presence of the Lady of Heringham affected him. Duke Charles rode out to meet his bride at the little town of Damme, and here the more important portions of the betrothal ceremony took place, after which he rode back alone to the Cour des Princes, leaving to the bride all the splendour of the entrance.
The monastic orders were to be represented in the procession. The Grey Sisters thought they had an especial claim, and devised the presenting a crown of white roses at the gates, and with great pleasure Grisell contributed the best of Master Lambert’s lovely white Provence roses to complete the garland, which was carried by the youngest novice, a fair white rosebud herself.
Every one all along the line of the tall old houses was hanging from window to window rich tapestries of many dyes, often with gold and silver thread. The trades and guilds had renewed their signs, banners and pennons hung from every abode entitled to their use, garlands of bright flowers stretched here and there and everywhere. All had been in a frenzy of preparation for many days past, and the final touches began with the first hours of light in the long, summer morning. To Grisell’s great delight, Cuthbert Ridley plodded in at the hospitable door of the Green Serpent the night before. “Ah! my ladybird,” said he, “in good health as ever.”
“All the better for seeing you, mine old friend,” she cried. “I thought you were far away at Compostella.”
“So verily I was. Here’s St. James’s cockle to wit—Santiago as they call him there, and show the stone coffin he steered across the sea. No small miracle that! And I’ve crossed France, and looked at many a field of battle of the good old times, and thought and said a prayer for the brave knights who broke lances there. But as I was making for St. Martha’s cave in Provence, I met a friar, who told me of the goodly gathering there was like to be here; and I would fain see whether I could hap upon old friends, or at any rate hear a smack of our kindly English tongue, so I made the best of my way hither.”
“In good time,” said Lambert. “You will take the lady and the housewife to the stoop at Master Caxton’s house, where he has promised them seats whence they may view the entrance. I myself am bound to walk with my fellows of the Apothecaries’ Society, and it will be well for them to have another guard in the throng, besides old Anton.”
“Nay, but my garb scarce befits the raree show,” said Ridley, looking at his russet gown.