“Let’s on, then,” exclaimed he; so, striking the end of his pole to the ground, and whistling shrilly on his dogs, he moved hastily out by the Castle gate at the head of his ragged troop.
CHAPTER XLIII.
Mustering for the Tournament—The Proclamation—The Procession at St. John’s Chapel.
The lists were now finished, and the crests and blazoned coat-armour of such knights as meant to tilt were on this day to be mustered in the little chapel of St John’s. Chivalry was to be alive in all its gaudy pomp. Hitherto the knights had loitered [[294]]about idle, or wasted the hours in sighing soft things into the delighted ears of their lady-loves, or in playing with them at chess or tables. Some, indeed, had more actively employed themselves, in hawking or hunting, and others had formed parties at bowls; but now all was to be bustle and busy preparation in the Castle, both with knights and ladies.
By dawn of day, squires, pages, and lacqueys, were seen running in all directions. Armour was observed gleaming in the ruddy beams of the morning sun; proud crests and helms, and nodding plumes, and richly-emblazoned shields and surcoats, and glittering lances, and flaunting banners and pennons, everywhere met the eye. The Earl of Moray, who had much to direct and to decide on, was compelled to shake off the sombre and distressing thoughts that oppressed him, and even to use his eloquence with the Countess, to induce her to rouse herself from the grief she had been plunged into by the shame her brother, the Wolfe of Badenoch, had brought upon her. She also had important duties to perform; and the first burst of her vexation being now over, she exerted her rational and energetic mind to overcome her feelings, and to prepare for the proper execution of them.
To gratify to the fullest extent that fondness for parade which so powerfully characterised the age, and to render the spectacle as imposing as possible, the whole of the knights, with their respective parties, were ordained to appear in the Castle-yard, where, having been joined by the ladies, it was intended they should be formed into a grand procession, in which they were to ride to the Mead of St John’s, to witness the herald’s proclamation.
Sir Patrick Hepborne was early astir, and his attendants and horses were all assembled before the Castle-yard began to fill. In the midst of them waved his red pennon, bearing his achievement on a chevron argent, two lions pulling at a rose. The parade that Mortimer Sang had, with great good judgment, selected for them, was immediately opposite to the window of the apartment which he knew was occupied by Katherine Spears, whose melting eyes had much disturbed his repose, and had created no small turmoil in his bosom. Mortimer yet hoped to win his spurs, in which event, the daughter of Rory Spears, though he was reputed rich, might have hardly, perhaps, been considered a proper match for him. But Master Sang could not resist the fascination of Katherine’s talk; and when in her company, he was so wrapped in admiration of her, that he invariably forgot that Rory Spears was her father, or that she [[295]]had ever had a father at all. The damsel, for her part, looked with inexpressible delight on the soldier-like form of Squire Mortimer, and listened with no less pleasure to his good-natured sallies of humour, graced, as they always were, with much of the polish of travel.
The sound of the trumpets, as the party of each respective knight appeared within the arched gateway of the Castle’s outworks, now came more frequent, and the neighing of impatient steeds, provoking one another in proud and joyous challenge, became louder, and the shrill voices of the pursuivants were heard, proclaiming the name, rank, and praises of each chevalier as he appeared. The sun shone out bright and hot, increasing the glitter of the gold-embossed armour of the knights, and the splendour of their embroidered pennons and banners, their richly-emblazoned surcoats, and their horse-furniture, that swept the very ground as the coursers moved.
As Sir Patrick Hepborne passed outwards, on his way to descend to the courtyard, he found the Earl of Moray already upon the terrace, arrayed in all his pride. Behind him stood his standard-bearer, supporting the staff of his banner in an inclined position, so that its broad silk hung down unruffled by a breath of air, displaying on a golden field the three cushions pendant, within a double tressure, flowered and counterflowered with fleurs-de-lys gules.