And Fitzarnulph’s head was so turned with the popular applause and flattery, that he overlooked the probability of any such trifling contingency as his neck being ere long in danger. Already he was, at least, a viceroy in imagination, and far too elate with the visions of power and authority with which he delighted his soul to allow his fancy to conjure up, even for a moment, the gloomy spectacle of gallows and hangman, so likely to figure at the end of such a career as that on which he was rushing. CHAPTER LVII A MEDIÆVAL RESTAURANT Among the wonders of London at the opening of the thirteenth century, when Constantine Fitzarnulph ranked as “one of the noblest citizens,” was a restaurant on the banks of the Thames, which satisfied every want of the stranger or traveller, and seemed to old Fitzstephen to realise Plato’s dreams. “Here,” says the chronicler, going into details, “according to the season, you may find victuals of all sorts, roasted, baked, fried, and boiled; fish large and small, and coarse viands for the poorer sort, and more delicate ones for the rich--such as venison, fowls, and small birds. “In case a friend should arrive at a citizen’s house much wearied with his journey, and chooses not to wait, an hungered as he is, for the buying and cooking of meats, recourse is had to the bank before mentioned, where everything desirable is instantly procured. No number of knights and strangers can enter the city at any hour of the day or night but all may be supplied with provisions; so that those have no occasion to fast too long, nor these to depart the city without dinner. “To this place, if they are so disposed, they resort, and there they regale themselves, every man according to his abilities. Those who have a mind to indulge need not hanker after sturgeon, or a game fowl, or a _gelinotte-de-bois_--a particularly delicate bird--for there are delicacies enough to gratify their palates. It is a public eating-house, and it is both highly convenient and useful to the city, and is a clear proof of its civilisation.” At one of the tables of this celebrated eating-house, on the last day of July, the day for Lammas, a young warrior, strong and handsome, rather brilliantly attired as a squire of noble Norman birth, was seated with a companion somewhat his junior, whom he called Rufus. They had finished their meal, which had been of the most costly description, and were indulging, though moderately, in the most expensive Bordeaux wine which the establishment boasted, the squire justifying his extravagance by quoting-- “Nullus argento color est,-- ---- nisi temperato Splendeat usu,” when Constantine Fitzarnulph entered, and cordially saluted them.