It was bedtime, and the old vaulted chambers of the Dominican monastery
at Perth echoed with sounds that would seem incongruous in such a home
of austerity, but that the disturbed state of Scotland rendered it
the habit of her kings to attach their palaces to convents, that they
themselves might benefit by the 'peace of the Church', which was in
general accorded to all sacred spots.
Thus it was that Christmas and Carnival time of 1435-6 had been spent
by the Court in the cloisters of Perth, and the dance, the song, and the
tourney had strangely contrasted with the grave and self-denying habits
to which the Dominicans were devoted in their neighboring cells. The
festive season was nearly at an end, for it was the 20th of February;
but the evening had been more than usually gay, and had been spent in
games at chess, tables, or backgammon, reading romances of chivalry,
harping, and singing. King James himself, brave and handsome, and in the
prime of life, was the blithest of the whole joyous party. He was the
most accomplished man in his dominions; for though he had been basely
kept a prisoner at Windsor throughout his boyhood by Henry IV of
England, an education had been bestowed on him far above what he would
have otherwise obtained; and he was naturally a man of great ability,
refinement, and strength of character. Not only was he a perfect knight
on horseback, but in wrestling and running, throwing the hammer, and
'putting the stane', he had scarcely a rival, and he was skilled in all
the learned lore of the time, wrote poetry, composed music both sacred
and profane, and was a complete minstrel, able to sing beautifully and
to play on the harp and organ. His Queen, the beautiful Joan Beaufort,
had been the lady of his minstrelsy in the days of his captivity, ever
since he had watched her walking on the slopes of Windsor Park, and
wooed her in verses that are still preserved. They had now been eleven
years married, and their Court was one bright spot of civilization,
refinement, and grace, amid the savagery of Scotland. And now, after the
pleasant social evening, the Queen, with her long fair hair unbound, was
sitting under the hands of her tire-women, who were preparing her for
the nights rest; and the King, in his furred nightgown, was standing
before the bright fire on the hearth of the wide chimney, laughing and
talking with the attendant ladies.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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