“Advance, ladies, dames, and damosels,” cried the herald in a loud voice, that made the groined roof re-echo; “advance and survey the helmets, crests, and coat-armouries, and see whether thou mayest peraunter descry the bearings of any traitor, malfaitor, or reviler of the ladies; for if so be that such may be discovered by any, she shall touch his crest, and both it and his achievements shall be thrust hence, that he may have no tilting at this tournament. Advance, then, and the herald shall descrive them in succession; and if any other knight or achievement may yet appear this day before sunset, it is hereby reserved to the ladies to exercise their right on him, if they see fitting so to do.”
The herald now led the knights and ladies in procession up the right side of the nave, around the transept, and returned down the left side of the nave; and having thus given them a general view of the whole, he led them around three times more, during which he accurately described the name and titles of each knight to whom the successive crests and achievements belonged. One or two achievements were touched by some of the younger knights, who wished to prove the firmness of their seat, before the day of tournament, by trial in a by-tilting, with some antagonist of their own selection, or against whom they wished to establish the superior charms of their lady-love; but the more experienced warriors, who had already well proved their lances elsewhere, reserved their efforts for the grand day when the tournament was properly to begin.
The ceremony of surveying the crests and coat-armouries being now over, the knights and ladies returned to their steeds, palfreys, and attendants, and the whole were soon again in motion, though not in the order or with the ceremony they had observed in their approach to the lists, and to the Chapel of St. John’s. The procession was now broken up into parties, and the Earl of Moray and his Countess, leading the way with the Earl of Fife, all followed in gay disorder, with a less chastened pace and less formal air. The ladies had freed their knights from their temporary bonds, though they still held them by the mere [[304]]influence of their radiant eyes. The laughing Jane de Vaux went on in the full enjoyment of her own triumph, and her face reflected the smiles of her merry party, as she cantered joyfully over the Mead after the Earl and Countess of Moray, to partake of a collation spread under a large awning in front of the pavilions on the other side of the river.
Sir Patrick Hepborne’s pleasure in this rural feat was damped by the marked distance with which the Countess of Moray now treated him. He fatigued himself with attempts to account for a conduct so different from the kind and easy reception she had given him at first; and he was still more shocked to observe, that even the Earl himself seemed to have adopted somewhat of the same freezing exterior since he had last parted with him in the court-yard. He tried to persuade himself that it was in a great measure fancy in him, and that in reality it was to be explained by the natural tone of dignity which the day demanded; and with this explanation he was obliged to content himself.
CHAPTER XLIV.
The Italian Armourer—The Knight of Cheviot.
“Ha! Signor Andria Martellino, can it be? Do mine eyes deceive me, or is it really thou whom I do thus behold in Scotland?” cried Mortimer Sang, as he entered the temporary shop of an armourer, erected at the back of one end of the lists; “by the mass, I should as soon have looked to see our Holy Father the Pope in these parts, as thee in the Mead of St. John’s.”
The person the squire thus addressed was a tall, thin, shambling, though athletic, black-a-viced looking man, whose very appearance bespoke his long intimacy with ignited charcoal and sulphurous vapours, and whose stooping shoulders argued a life of bending over the anvil, whilst the length, swing, and sinew of his arms betrayed the power with which he might still be expected to assail the stubborn metal. As Sang spoke to him he opened a wide mouth from ear to ear, so that the large gold rings that ornamented their pendulous cartilages almost appeared to issue from the corners of it, and replied with a grin of immediate recognition.
“Eh! Signore Mortimero Sang, how I am verri glad to see dee. Dee be verri vell, I do hope? E il vostro padrone, il [[305]]Cavaliere?—Eh! il Cavaliere Seer Pietro Hepborne, I hope he is good?—sta bene?—Preet vell, eh?”