The boar’s head has been consumed; the jeweled fan of the peacock trails low in the dust; huge pastries washed down by the flowing bowl; tables are cleared away, pages run hither and thither carrying silver basins in which the guests lave their hands and dry them upon linen towels from the looms of Belfast. The King is now ready to be amused.
Lords and ladies take their places for the ancient sword dance, and glide to the stirring measures of the minstrels. Back and forth tread the gay participants in the stately dance. Now the lovely maidens form in a flowery line and pass under the arch of clashing swords of the cavaliers.
“By my saul, a braw sight, if ’twere not for the glittering steel,” exclaimed James, turning away his shrinking gaze from the uplifted swords. “Now my bonnie lads and lassies, let us to the cards. Come, my Lord Chamberlain, and you my Lord Suffolk, your loving father will try his luck at primero with you.”
Catching hold of a page flitting by, he said, “Go yonder to Sir Walter Raleigh, and say that the King desires his company.” Then turning to the two lords continued, “We will celebrate his liberation from our not too hospitable Tower.”
Rattling dice, clinking glasses, merry music, laughter and jest closed the memorable day of Pocahontas’s presentation at court.
CHAPTER XXVII
Pocahontas was sitting at the latticed window of her apartment at the Mermaid Inn, striving to pierce the thick yellow fog hanging over the river. Down upon the narrow street lighted torches flared wildly in the hands of linkboys conducting some lady’s sedan chair to its destination in the closing evening. Rolfe was playing hide and seek among the chairs and tables with his little son. The room was in shadow except for the ruddy firelight dancing on the walls.
A low knock sounded upon the paneled door. Putting down the boy, whom he had just caught, Rolfe went to see who it was.
“Is the Lady Rebecca at home?” inquired a deep manly voice. “If so, may an old friend present himself?”