The friends were soon in readiness, and descended together to the grand banquet-hall of the Bishop's palace. It was a spacious chamber, more than one hundred feet in length, with six windows of Gothic architecture and stained glass, representing six different periods of the world. The first, the Temptation in the Garden of Eden; the second, the Flood; the third, the Sacrifice of Abraham; the fourth, the Delivery of the Law; the fifth, the Building of the Temple of Solomon; and the sixth, the Crucifixion. The designs were much more splendid in colors than in conception, for singular contradictions of unity existed in all the windows. A lady's lap-dog, with a bright gilt collar round his neck, was found in the garden of Eden; Abraham had philacteries on his forehead and robes; in the Flood, some monks with crosses were seen descending down a rushing cataract; in the Delivery of the Law, Moses had a mitre on his head; at the building of the Temple, there stood several orders of the Roman Brotherhood celebrating high mass, and so many impossibilities of fancy crowded into the ornamental portions of the sides of the windows, that it was difficult to say what they were. Still the light gleaming through the different colored glasses had a brilliant effect at noonday. Thirty guests were expected. The Bishop's chair was at the centre of that long table, and his own family of friends were to be seated on his right and left hand, whilst, on the opposite side, were ranged the seats of strangers, travellers, pilgrims, or any who might chance to claim the hospitality of the palace. These all waited in a spacious receiving-ward, where there was water to wash their feet, and clean apparel, if required. A peep into that room would have put to flight all the ideas of modern luxury and modern notions of hospitality, even in a bishop's palace. Various monks from distant parts were there--with various priests of various parishes, who came to pay their court to their diocesan. Those who came without express invitation were all received into this apartment, and prepared for the table of the Bishop. They had to wait with the rest, be they who they might, and were never seen or heard until the hour of public entertainment. In the common room were waiting, amidst friars, pilgrims, monks, and mendicants, Thomas Bilney and John Bale, men who, at that day, took advantage of the opportunity offered them to speak without reserve to Goldwell, who was generally looked upon as friendly at least to intellectual discussion. The noon-bell sounded long and sonorous, so that, in all parts of the town, strangers knew that it was the hour of hospitality, and, whoever was so disposed, might pass the drawbridge and partake of the benediction of the Bishop, sure to find a seat at his board, an attentive ear to his history, and, if he had any cause of complaint, promise, if he lived within the jurisdiction of the diocese of Norwich, that his suit should be attended to.