Sir David Lindsay and his companions, after quitting their saddles, were led by the Lord Welles to his own tent, where they soon rendered themselves fit to appear before Royal eyes. They were then conducted to the King’s pavilion, which they found surrounded by a strong body of archers, and they had no sooner entered the outer part of it than they were introduced to the Earls of Kent and Huntingdon, half-brothers to the King, who were in waiting. These were now Richard’s chief favourites since the late banishment of De Vere, Duke of Ireland, and others. By these noblemen they were immediately introduced into the Royal presence.
The young Richard was not deficient in that manly beauty possessed by his heroic father, the nation’s idol, Edward the Black Prince, but his countenance was softened by many of those delicate traits which gave to his lovely mother the appellation of the Fair Maid of Kent. His eyes, though fine and full, were of unsteady expression, frequently displaying a certain confidence in self-opinion, that suddenly gave way to doubt and hesitation. Though the dress he had on was of the same shape as that worn by his courtiers, being that generally used by noblemen of the period when hunting, yet, costly as was the attire of those around him, his was most conspicuous among them all, by the rich nature of the materials of which it was composed, as well as by the massive and glittering ornaments he wore. The gorgeous furniture of his temporary residence too, with the [[488]]endless numbers of splendidly habited domestics who waited, might have been enough of themselves to have explained to the Scottish knights whence that dissatisfaction arose among his subjects, who were compelled to contribute to expenditure so profuse.
The King’s natural disposition to be familiar with all who approached him would of itself have secured a gracious reception to Sir David de Lindsay and his companions, but the cause of their visit made them doubly welcome. Their coming ensured him an idle show and an empty pageant which would furnish him with an apology for making fresh draughts on his already over-drained people. Every honour, therefore, was paid them, as if they had been public ambassadors from the nation to which they belonged, and the most conspicuous places were assigned them at that luxurious board where the Royal collation was spread, and where, much as they had seen, their eyes were utterly confounded by the profusion of rarities that appeared.
The King had been hunting for nearly a week in these suburban wilds, and he was now about to return to his palace in the Tower, which he at this time preferred as a residence to that of Westminster. But the pleasures of the table, seasoned by dissolute conversation with the profligate knights and loose ladies, who were most encouraged at his Court, together with that indolence into which he was so apt to sink, had at all times too great charms for him to permit him easily to move from them. He therefore allowed the hours to pass in epicurean indulgence, whilst he gazed on the wanton attitudes of the women who danced before him, or on the feats of jugglers and tumblers.
At length the camp was ordered to be broken up, and then the whole Royal attention became occupied in the arrangement of the cavalcade, so that it might produce the most imposing effect, and the humblest individuals were not considered as unworthy of a King’s notice on so important an occasion. All were soon put into the wished-for order, and Richard himself figured most prominently of all, proudly mounted on a magnificently-caparisoned horse, having housings that swept the ground. A canopy was borne over him by twelve esquires, and he was surrounded by his archers. Sir David de Lindsay and his companions formed a part of this pageant, which they failed not to remark was carefully defended on all sides by well-armed horsemen.
From the summit of an eminence the Scottish knights caught their first view of London, then clustered into a small space [[489]]within its confined walls. It seemed to be tied like a knot, as it were, on the winding thread of the majestic Thames, which, after washing the walls of the Palace of Westminster, flowed thence gently along its banks, fringed by the gardens and scattered country-dwellings of the nobility and richer citizens, until it was lost for a time amid the smoke arising from the dusky mass of the city, to appear farther down with yet greater brilliancy. The sun was already getting low, and was shooting its rays aslant through the thick atmosphere that hung over the town. They caught on its most prominent points, and brought fully into notice the venerable tower and spire of the then Gothic St. Paul’s, and the steeples of the few churches and monasteries which the city contained, together with its turreted walls and its castles. All between the partially wooded slope they stood on and the gates, was one wild pasture, partly covered with heath, interspersed with thickets, and partly by swamps, and a large lake.
As they drew nearer to the city, they passed by crowds of young citizens engaged in athletic exercises. Some were wrestling; others, mounted on spirited horses and armed with lances, were tilting at the quintaine, or jousting with wooden points against each other. In one place they were shooting with bows at a mark; and in another, groups of young men and damsels were seen dancing under the shade of trees, to the gratification of many a father and mother who looked on. Besides these, the ground was peopled by vendors of refreshments; and, in diverse corners, jugglers and posture-masters were busy with their tricks before knots of wondering mechanics. So keenly were all engaged, that the Royal hunting party, carefully as the order of its march had been prepared, passed by unheeded, or, if noticed at all, it was by a secret curse from some of the disaffected, who grudged to see that Richard had been hunting in that part of the forest which it was more particularly the privilege of the citizens of London to use. Nor did the haughty courtiers regard these humbler people, except to indulge in many a cutting jest at their expense, which Richard’s ready laugh of approbation showed they were thoroughly licensed to do.
“We have seen some such jousting as this before,” said Courtenay, with a sly toss of his head, immediately after an awkward exhibition that had accidentally attracted notice.
“Yea, so have I too,” observed Dalzel calmly; “I did once see ane English knight tilt so on the Mead of St. John’s.”
Crossing the broad ditch of the city by a drawbridge, they [[490]]made their entry between the towers of Cripplegate, having its name from the swarms of beggars by which it was generally infested, and they immediately found themselves in narrow streets of wooden houses, uncouthly projecting as they rose upwards, and detached shops, which were already shut up for the day. Here and there the windows were decorated with coloured cloth or carpets, and some few idle vagabonds ran after the cavalcade crying out, “Long live King Richard!” looking to be recompensed for their mercenary loyalty by liberal largess. But the respectable citizens were already enjoying their own recreation in the Moorfields, those who did remain having little inclination to join in the cry where the Monarch was so unpopular; and many a sturdy black muzzled mechanic went scowling off the street to hide in some dark lane as he saw the procession approaching, bestowing his malediction on that heartless prodigality and luxury which robbed him and his infants to supply its diseased appetite. Hepborne and Halyburton, who rode together, could not help remarking this want of loyal feeling towards the young English Monarch; and, calling to mind the enthusiasm with which they had seen the aged King Robert of Scotland, in his grey woollen hose, greeted by his people, they began to suspect that there must be faults of no trifling sort in a Prince to whom nature had given so pleasing an exterior.