In fact, conical hats and short capes seemed to be universal among the Lorettans. Priscus and his gentlemen formed a glittering company, and seeing them all together made me realize that they stood in a somewhat different manner than we men of Duisland. For we stand square, with the weight on both feet, but these Lorettans had one foot before and the other behind, and seemed to arch forward, so that their breastbones were well to the front, with their hips, shoulders, and heads drawn back. The conical hats and short capes seemed designed to call attention to this posture. They made an elegant sight, curved like so many yew bows set up on the forecastle of the galley, and I wondered if this stance was one that would soon be adopted as the fashion by our own nation.
Among this group were monks of the Pilgrim, but monks unlike any I had seen before. The monks in Duisland wore robes of unbleached wool, but these wore robes in brilliant colors, scarlets and blues and verdant greens; and they wore gold also, belts and prayer beads and amulets. Certainly, they seem to have transcended certain notions of humility and poverty.
The Lorettan galley swept up to the quay built by the water-gardens, and a royal salute banged out from batteries set up by the lakefront. I could see Captain Lipton bustling about in his battery, and signaling each of his guns to fire at the appropriate time.
The Queen waited, serene as ever, on a white palfrey, and Priscus disembarked, swept off his hat, and kissed her hand. Another white steed was brought forward for Priscus, and the two rode off together into the water-gardens, and were lost from sight.
Days of festival followed, and the Lorettan gentlemen, with their capes and curved posture, were seen everywhere in town. There were jousts in which the knights of Duisland fought those of Loretto, and the victor was judged to be Lorenso d’Abrez, one of the prince’s followers, who skillfully broke lance after lance. A water-organ was placed on a boat, and anchored in the river to play a concert for the town. There were horse-races and prize-fights, and a piper sat outside every tavern to provide music for dancing. Blackwell’s masque, The Triumph of Virtue, was performed in the ancient theater, with the nobles of both nations playing parts in their own glittering costumes. Castinatto reprised his role as the villain, and little Floria again played Virtue, but her acting this time was more lively, as if she realized that mocking her sister, as she had at Kingsmere, was no longer wise.
All those heads on pikes before the Hall of Justice would, no doubt, agree with her.
This was the first time a masque had been performed in public rather than privately at the court, and two thousand of Howel’s citizens, who were admitted without charge, watched the performance with astonishment.
A few days later, there was a regatta on the lake, in which His Grace of Roundsilver’s galley took the laurel of victory from a young woman dressed as a Mermaid. The sight of a woman in Mermaid costume brought to mind the last sweet night in Ethlebight, and in an instant I felt a great swell of sadness, while tears stung my eyes. I wondered where Annabel Greyson was now, in what horrid picture of captivity I might find her, and then I thought of my family, and the thousands of others who had been carried away. I felt that no matter how well I had done, no matter what successes were laid to my account, I had lost much more than I had won.
After this, I went for a long walk to the town, drank a few mugs of ale, listened to some music, and tried to abolish the melancholy that had crept over me. I met with but light success, and when I returned, I found a carriage waiting outside my residence. No sooner had I come into sight than the Count of Wenlock burst from it, shouting.
“There you are!” he roared. “I wanted to see you!” He arrived in front of me, and waved a finger at my face. “I wanted to see the man who traduced my son! I wanted to see what sort of monster it is who steals my son’s victory, and claims it for his own!”
Surprised beyond measure, I stared at Wenlock as he shouted at me, and then managed to gather my wits for a reply.
“I have done nothing of the kind! Whoever has told you this has lied!”
“It is you who have lied!” cried the count. He brandished a fist. “You have been spreading slanders behind my back, and trying to claim the victory at Exton Scales for your own! You will never succeed, do you hear me? I will crush you, and reveal the truth to all!”
I was on the verge of summoning another denial when he turned and marched back to his carriage, after which he spun about again. “A statue!” he shouted, stamping on the ground. “A damned statue!”
I watched the vehicle disappear in a cloud of dust, then walked into the house in a daze, Wenlock’s shouts still ringing in my head. There I met Captain Lipton, who whooped at the sight of me.
“Congratulations, youngster!” he said, and waved a paper. “Your future is made, and I have made it!”
I was more intent on Wenlock’s hostile arrival than on Lipton’s fancies, and I tried to explain what had just occurred in the road outside the house, and Lipton thumped me on the shoulder.
“It is the honors list published this morning, and posted by the heralds!” he said. “You have been made a knight for your actions at Exton Scales, and given a manor!”
I looked at the list as he brandished it before my eyes. There I saw that for valorous and meritorious service in time of war, Quillifer the Younger of Ethlebight was to be made a knight bachelor, and awarded the manor of Dunnock, in the shire of Hurst Downs.
“Where is Hurst Downs?” I asked, completely baffled.
“I care not!” Lipton proclaimed. “It matters only that I have got it for you!”
“How have you—” I began, but could go no further. I was beyond words, for this matter was beyond all sense.
“I remind you that you twice promised me a bottle of claret on the field of Exton Scales,” said Lipton. “You have never made good your promise, and I think it is time you did. For we must drink to your advancement, and this speedily!”
My head spun, but the easiest thing to do was surrender to the moment. “Let us go then to the buttery of my lord Havre-le-Creag,” I said, “and I will fill my promise directly.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
“Youngster, that little princess has made of you her enterprise, sure,” he said.
I considered this, and felt the ghost of a warning caress the back of my neck. “I do not know that I care to be so scrutinized by royalty,” said I. “I cannot see that the ending of this will bring me joy.”
“You could give the manor back,” said Lipton. “Or better still, sign it to me.”