In the middle of this groined and vaulted public square was an oaken
table which was called the Table Round. It was as large as a circus
ring; and around it sat a great company of men dressed in such various
and splendid colors that it hurt one’s eyes to look at them. They wore
their plumed hats, right along, except that whenever one addressed
himself directly to the king, he lifted his hat a trifle just as he was
beginning his remark.
Mainly they were drinking—from entire ox horns; but a few were still
munching bread or gnawing beef bones. There was about an average of two
dogs to one man; and these sat in expectant attitudes till a spent bone
was flung to them, and then they went for it by brigades and divisions,
with a rush, and there ensued a fight which filled the prospect with a
tumultuous chaos of plunging heads and bodies and flashing tails, and
the storm of howlings and barkings deafened all speech for the time; but
that was no matter, for the dog-fight was always a bigger interest
anyway; the men rose, sometimes, to observe it the better and bet on it,
and the ladies and the musicians stretched themselves out over their
balusters with the same object; and all broke into delighted
ejaculation, from time to time. In the end, the winning dog stretched
himself out comfortably with his bone between his paws, and proceeded to
growl over it, and gnaw it, and grease the floor with it, just as fifty
others were already doing; and the rest of the court resumed their
previous industries and entertainments.
As a rule, the speech and behavior of these people were gracious and
courtly; and I noticed that they were good and serious listeners when
anybody was telling anything—I mean in a dog-fightless interval. And
plainly, too, they were a childlike and innocent lot; telling lies of
the stateliest pattern with a most gentle and winning naiveté, and ready
and willing to listen to anybody else’s lie, and believe it, too. It was
hard to associate them with anything cruel or dreadful; and yet they
dealt in tales of blood and suffering with a guileless relish that made
me almost forget to shudder.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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