Darnley; or, The Field of the Cloth of Gold

by G. P. R. James

The chamberlain, for by such sonorous title did he designate himself, came forth at the summons, presenting not only the appearance of an ostler, but of a bad ostler too; and after assisting the knight to dismount, he took from the saddle the leathern bags which commonly accompanied a traveller on a journey in those days, and running his hand over the exterior, with the utmost nonchalance, endeavoured to ascertain whether the contents were such as might be acceptable to any of his good friends on the road.

Sir Osborne's first care was of his horse, which he ordered to be shod, for the purpose of proceeding immediately; but finding its foot somewhat tender, he at length determined upon passing the night at the inn rather than injure an animal on which his farther journey greatly depended; and leaving the chamberlain to examine his bags more at his leisure, he entered the kitchen, which was then the common room of reception.

Night had by this time rendered the air chilly; and the sight of a large fire, which greeted his eye as he pushed open the door, promised him at least that sort of reception for which he was most anxious, as he did not propose to himself any great communion with those who might be within. The apartment was not very inviting in any other particular than the cheerful blazing of the large logs of wood with which the earth was strewed, for the floor was of battened mud, and the various utensils which hung round did not do great credit to the hostess's housewifery.

Much was the confusion which reigned amidst pans, kettles, pots, and plates; and sundry were the positions of spits, gridirons, and ladles: in short, it seemed as if the implements of cooking had all got drunk after a hard day's work, and had tumbled over one another the best way they could in search of repose. From the large black rafters overhead, however, hung much that might gratify the eye of the hungry traveller, for the kitchen seemed to serve for larder as well as drawing-room. There might be seen the inimitable ham of York, with manifold sides of bacon, and dangling capons, and cheeses store; and there, too, was the large black turkey, in its native plumes, with endless strings of sausages, and puddings beyond account. Nor was dried salmon wanting, nor a net full of lemons, nor a bag of peas: in a word, it was a very comfortably garnished roof, and in some degree compensated for the disarray of the room that it overhung.

In those days, the close of evening was generally the signal for every traveller to betake himself to the nearest place of repose; and with his circle round the fire, and his own peculiar chair placed in the most approved corner of the vast chimney, mine host of the inn seldom expected the arrival of any new guest after dark. It was then, if his company were somewhat of his own degree, that he would tell his best story, or crack his best joke; and sometimes even, after many an overflowing flagon had gone round at the acknowledged expense of his guests, he himself, too, would club his tankard of toast and ale, for which, it is probable, he found sufficient means to make himself kindly reparation in some other manner.

In such course flowed by the moments at the inn, when Sir Osborne Maurice, pushing open the door of the kitchen, interrupted the landlord in the midst of an excellent good ghost story, and made the whole of the rest of the party turn their heads suddenly round, and fix their eyes upon the tall, graceful figure of the young knight, as if he had been the actual apparition under discussion.

The assembly at the kitchen-fire consisted only of six persons. Mine host, as above stated, in his large arm-chair, was first in bulk and dignity. Whether it be or not a peculiar quality in beer to turn everything which contains a great quantity of it into the shape and demeanour of a tun, has often struck me as a curious question in natural philosophy; but certain it is that many innkeepers, but more peculiarly the innkeeper in question, possess, and have possessed, and probably will possess, so long as such a race exists, the size, rotundity, profoundness, and abhorrence of locomotion, which are considered as peculiar attributes of the above-named receptacle, as well as the known quality of containing vast quantities of liquor. Mine host was somewhat pale withal; but sundry carbuncles illuminated his countenance, and gave an air of jollity to a face whose expression was not otherwise very amiable.

Next to this dignitary sat a worthy representative of a race now, alas! long, long extinct, and indeed almost unrecorded.

Oh! could old Hall or Holinshed have divined that the Portingal captain would ever become an animal as much extinct as the mammoth or the mastodon, leaving only a few scattered traces to mark the places through which he wandered, what long and elaborate descriptions should we not have had, to bear at least his memory down to coming ages! But in the days of those worthy writers, Portugal, or, as they wrote it, Portingal, was the land from which adventure and discovery issued forth over the earth, ay, and over the water, too; and they never dreamt that the flourishing kingdom whose adventurous seamen explored every corner of the known world, and brought the fruits and treasures of the burning zone to the frigid regions of the north, would ever dwindle away so as to be amongst the nations of Europe like a sprat in a shoal of herrings; or certainly they would have given us a full and particular description of a Portingal captain, from the top of his head down to the sole of his shoe.

Luckily, however, the learned Vonderbrugius has supplied this defect more to my purpose than any other writer could have done, not only by describing a Portingal captain in the abstract, but the very identical Portingal captain who there, at that moment, sat by the fireside.