Great Britain -- History -- House of York, 1461-1485 -- Fiction
But ere my squire did return the heralds rode into the lists, and
started their tedious recitation of the rules of that day's sports; the
which we were so absorbed in listening to, in the effort to gather some
small particle of sense from, that I thought not of that which I had
intended asking Michael.
The marshals then entered the field, and took up their customary
positions to enforce the rules of the joust; the which were, as near as
I could make out, not different from the first day's.
"There, Walter, I have won my wager; for, if mine eyes do serve me
aright, thine ancient foe, Catesby, hath taken his place among the
King's guards."
"Thou art right; the cloak is thine. But see! he wears not his armour,
although his both arms appear to be whole and sound."
"True, your treatment of him yesterday hath been sufficient to satisfy
his appetite for glory and revenge, such as he obtained in the lists."
Then, as mine enemy turned his head, Michael, who was now standing
behind me, exclaimed, in a voice low but heavy, like the roll of
distant thunder:--"The damned villain's head is cracked; fer look at
the clout that shows beneath his cap. Sure its bad luck that the blow
that did it stopped ere it rached the varmint's chin."
* * * * *
That evening, as we journeyed slowly and wearily back from the field
that had been during the last two days the scene of so many noble feats
of arms, and of which nothing now remained but the long and narrow
strip of sandy ground where the sod had been removed to leave a level
and firm place for the list, and the black spots to point out the
places where had glowed the fires, Harleston remarked in his low and
musing voice:--
"Verily, yon place doth represent the lives of men."
"How so?" I asked.
"Records of our deeds are imprinted in the sand. If a storm doth arise
to-night, all the little mounds that indicate some noble courses run
shall be levelled, and a traveller passing there to-morrow will notice
nothing but a barren strip, with nowhere on its face a mark to tell of
glorious deeds performed."
The thought of this was sad, and yet 'twas true; as are the most of
gloomy thoughts. It is for this same reason that I ever try to turn my
mind's eye to the pleasures and the joys of life, the which are far
from few. I therefore, on this occasion, turned from the contemplation
of this dreary sight to the scene that should await me when, that
evening, I would go unto the Sanctuary; for such was mine intent. I
could picture, in my mind's eye, my fair Hazel waiting and watching
with the agony of expectation for me; wondering if I ever should return
from that sport which she so much disliked on account of its
"inhumanity," as she had said.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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