Sir Hugh promised his friends a merry Christmas at Clopton; a Christmas observed with all due observance of the time.
In Elizabeth's day, most people, even of the higher grade of society, kept comparatively early hours. Those who dined at eleven and twelve, necessarily supped at five or six. The supper too, was the most festive meal, and most enjoyed; and when the season of the year, or old custom, gave warranty, your old English host not unfrequently kept wassail all night long.
On the present occasion the old Knight felt inclined to drink deep and sit late. He seemed resolved for a carouse. Martin and Shakespeare banded about their quaint sayings, and Sir Hugh seemed to revel in the idea of a merry Christmas at Clopton, observed with all due observance of the time; an observance, which in Warwickshire at that day was looked upon by old and young, rich and poor, with a feeling of enjoyment and love amounting to a passion. Every sport was got up with religious fervour; every old-world custom regarded with a veneration unknown to our own squalid days.
Christmas Day was at hand, and the old Knight talked of it like a child talks of a new toy; but whilst he spoke of good cheer and wine and wassail to set before his guests, a reeking post arrived, inviting himself and all consorting him to a feast held during the Christmas week at Kenilworth. The Countess of Leicester greeting her friend Sir Hugh, bade him welcome to her poor house of Kenilworth, to come with hawk and hound, kith, kindred and friends presently consorting him.
The Countess of Leicester was one in whom Sir Hugh had much interest. She was the daughter of his old friend, Lettice, Lady Knolleys, sister to Carey, Lord Hundsdon.
The Knight pitied her for her misfortune in marrying the evil-minded Leicester, for he had indeed loved her with a paternal affection; albeit the troublous current of his own life had lately hindered him from seeing much of her.
Under these circumstances, Sir Hugh felt delighted with the invitation, and resolved, if his party agreed, to accept it.
"How say ye, lads," he said, "shall we to this feast? Methinks I should like hugely to visit Kenilworth, and my charming friend, after so many years of absence. How say ye, Walter, shall we dine once more beneath the towers of old John of Gaunt, and Geoffrey Clinton?"
The company, as a matter of course, left it to their entertainer to accept or refuse, as he thought best.
"I am for a revel and a brawl any bow," said Martin, "now I have come once more to a Christian land. Be it at Clopton or Kenilworth, all's one to Martin."