Agincourt (Historical Novel). G. P. R. James
chamber was filled with minstrels, musicians, and attendants; and music, as usual, accompanied the feast; but ever and anon, from the court before the palace and the neighbouring streets, were heard loud shouts, and laughter, and bursts of song, showing that the merriment and revelry of the multitude were still kept up, while the King and his nobles were feasting within.
Thus, when the banquet was over, the monarch gone from the Hall, and Richard of Woodville, with the rest of the guests, issued forth into the court, he was not surprised to find a gay and joyous scene without, the whole streets and roads filled with people, and every one giving himself up to joy and diversion. The gates of the court were thrown open, the populace admitted to the very doors of the palace, and a crowd of several hundred persons assembled round a spot in the centre, where a huge pile of dry wood had been lighted for the august ceremony of roasting an ox whole, which was duly superintended by half a dozen white-capped cooks, with a whole army of scullions and turnspits. Butts of strong beer stood in various corners; and a fountain, of four streams, flowed with wine at the side next to the Abbey. In one spot, people were jostling and pushing each other to get at the ale or wine; in another, they were dancing gaily to the sound of a viol; and further on was a tumbler, twisting himself into every sort of strange attitude for the amusement of the spectators. Loud shouts and exclamations, peals of laughter, the sounds of a thousand different musical instruments playing as many different tunes, with voices singing, and others crying wares of several sorts, prepared for the celebration of the day, made a strange and not very melodious din; but there was an air of festivity and rejoicing, of fun and good humour, in the whole, that compensated for the noise and the crowd.
Richard of Woodville had given orders for his horses to be taken to an inn at Charing, while waiting in the Hall before the banquet; and he now proceeded on foot, through the crowd in the palace courts, towards the gates. It was a matter of some difficulty to obtain egress; for twilight was now coming on, and the multitude were flocking from the sights which had been displayed in the more open road to Charing during the last two or three hours, to witness the roasting of the ox, and to obtain some of the slices which were to be distributed about the hour of nine.
At length, however, he found himself in freer air; but still, every four or five yards, he came upon a gay group, either standing and talking to each other, or gathered round a show, or some singer or musician. It was one constant succession of faces; some young, some old, some pretty, some ugly, but all of them strange to Richard of Woodville. Nevertheless, more than once he met the same merry salutations which he had been treated to when on horseback; and, as he paused here and there, gazing at this or that gay party, he was twice asked to join in the dance, and still more frequently required to contribute to the payment of a poor minstrel with his pipe or cithern.
The minstrels were not, indeed, in those days at least, a very elevated race of beings; their poetical powers, if they ever in this country possessed any, had entirely merged in the musical; and, though they occasionally did sing to their own instruments, or to those of others, the verses were generally either old ballads, or pieces of poetry composed by persons of a higher education than themselves.
Nearly opposite the old dwelling of the kings of Scotland, Woodville's ear caught the tones of a very sweet voice singing; and, approaching the group of people that had gathered round, he saw an old man playing on an instrument somewhat like, but greatly inferior to a modern guitar, while a girl by his side, with fine features, and apparently--for the light was faint--a beautiful complexion, dressed in somewhat strange costume, was pouring forth her lay to the delighted ears of youths and maidens. She had nearly finished the song, when the young gentleman approached; and, in a moment or two after, she went round with a cap in her hand, asking the donations of the listeners.
Woodville had been pleased, and he threw in some small silver coin, more than equal to all that the rest had given; and, resuming her place by the old man's side, she whispered a word in his ear, upon which he immediately struck his instrument again, and she began another ditty in honour, it would appear, of her generous auditor:--
SONG.
The bark is at the shore,
The wind is in the sail,
Fear not the tempest's roar,
There's fortune in the gale;
For the true heart and kind,
Its recompence shall find,
Shall win praise,
And golden days,
And live in many a tale.
Oh, go'st thou far or nigh,
To Palestine or France,
For thee soft hearts shall sigh,
And glory wreath thy lance;
For the true heart and kind,
Its recompence shall find,
Shall win praise,
And golden days,
And five in many a tale.
The courtly hall or field,
Still luck shall thee afford;
Thy heart shall be thy shield,
And love shall edge thy sword;
For the true heart and kind,
Its recompence shall find
Shall win praise,
And golden days,
And live in many a tale.
The lark shall sing on high.
Whatever shores thou rov'st;
The nightingale shall try,
To call up her thou lov'st;
For the true heart and kind,
Its recompence shall find,
Shall win praise,
And golden days,
And live in many a tale.
In hours of pain and grief,
If such thou must endure.
Thy breast shall know relief,
In honour tried and pure;
For the true heart and Kind,
Its recompence shall find,
Shall win praise,
And golden days,
And live in many a tale.
And Fortune soon or late,
Shall give the jewell'd prize;
For deeds, in spite of fate,
Gain smiles from ladies' eyes;
And the true heart and kind,
Its recompense shall find,
Shall win praise,
And golden days,
And live in many a tale.
The song was full of hope and cheerfulness; and though the melody was simple, as all music was in those days, it went happily with the words. Richard of Woodville well understood, that though certainly not an improvisation, the verse was intended for him; and feeling grateful to the girl for her promises of success, he drew forth his purse, and held out to her another piece of money. She stepped gracefully forward to receive it, and this time extended a fair, small hand, instead of the cap which she had before borne round the crowd; but just at that moment, a party of horsemen came up at full gallop, and, as if for sport--probably under the influence of wine--rode fiercely through the little circle assembled to hear the song.
The listeners, young and active, easily got out of the way; but not so the old minstrel, who stood still, as if bewildered, and was knocked down and trampled by one of the horsemen. The girl, his companion, with a shriek, and Richard of Woodville, with a cry of indignation, started forward together; and the latter, catching the horse which had done file mischief by the bridle, with his powerful arm forced it back upon its haunches, throwing the rider to the ground with a heavy fall. As the man went down, his hood was cast back, and Woodville