Runnymede and Lincoln Fair : $b A story of the Great CharterEdgar, John G. (John George)
History
Runnymede and Lincoln Fair : $b A story of the Great Charter
Edgar, John G. (John George)
Great Britain -- History -- John, 1199-1216 -- Fiction
The yeoman of Kent and his young comrade did not add their voices to the
music of the hour. Perhaps they were too stupid to comprehend fully what
was taking place. However, they certainly did seem to make the best use
of their eyes. They entered the church of St. Paul’s while the citizens
were doing homage and swearing allegiance, and they followed the long
and brilliant cavalcade of prelates, and nobles, and knights,
conspicuous among whom were Hugh de Moreville and Sir Anthony Waledger,
when they conducted the French prince to Westminster; for here a similar
ceremony was to be performed in the Abbey, which then stood very much as
it had been left by Edward the Confessor--to wit, in the form of a
cross, with a high central tower, and as it had been consecrated on the
Christmas of 1065, when the saint-king lay dying in the Painted Chamber.
Both the stripling and the yeoman looked on the Abbey with peculiar
reverence, and the sight of it seemed to recall to them the memory of
the pious founder, but of whom few else in London or Westminster thought
that day.
“Holy Edward be our aid, and the aid of England!” said the younger,
uncovering his head; “for never, certes, have we and England been more
in need of the protection of our tutelary saint.”
“Amen,” added the yeoman; and, separating themselves from the crowd,
they proceeded to an ale-house right opposite the gate of the palace,
exchanged salutations with the landlord in a confidential tone, and
ascended a stair to a chamber, the window of which looked into the
palace-yard. Finding themselves alone, they turned to each other with a
glance of peculiar significance.
“Sir William de Collingham,” said the stripling, much agitated, “we are
discovered. That drunken maniac of a knight saw through our disguise.”
“Be calm, Master Icingla,” replied the other, like a man long habituated
to danger; “you may be in error. Anyhow, we gain nothing by taking
fright; for, if it be as you say, he may even now have taken such
measures that we must fall into the toils. Wherefore I say, be calm.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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