Carack

Ch3 p3

Breakfast was concluding when the armour was brought in, Morvah leaned across to him and said winningly, ‘I chose this for you myself.’ Gerent gulped, smiled and nodded, he thought she was wonderful. He couldn’t believe his luck that she might like him and she had chosen this just for him.

‘Just put on the breastplate for now,’ said Madron, ‘assist him Trent.’

The manservant stepped forward and strapped Hugh into the gold breastplate. It hung on him, feeling heavy and useless, but he smiled at Morvah in gratitude, it was an impressive looking thing.

‘There,’ Morvah came around the table and made some final adjustment to the straps. It was the that Gerent noticed that she had a withered arm which seemed to mar the perfect beauty he had been stunned with on first seeing her. ‘Now you are ready to face the populous, is he not pater?’ she said, ‘Come let me take your arm and we shall process together to view the celebrations.’ Madron, who had nodded assent to his daughter’s comments, led the way through the castle to a stone balcony that proved to be a storey above a wide street, which was close lined with leaning, clustering buildings built of timber and amber mortar. The street was bathed in sunshine and full of people, who sent up a loud roar of approval as the three of them appeared. Gerent was a little surprised but waved as prompted by Morvah. A sort of musical noise started away in down the street, out of view, and the crowd pressed tight against the buildings to allow the parade to come through. A small band playing whistles or recorders of some kind, Gerent wasn’t sure what they were, filed passed and were followed by men dressed in brightly coloured, wide, velvet hats with matching doublet and hose. Each man doffed his cap to the balcony, Madron wafted his hand in response, he smiled at Gerent and encouraged him to respond likewise. Morvah looked as though she were bored with the whole thing but stood close by Gerent’s side, clinging to his good arm, and gazing up at the sky or the far horizon or any thing rather than the peasants below.

A group of four of the Burghers arrived on the balcony to present Gerent with something, which looked like a dagger, on a red velvet cushion, but which the Burghers called the ‘Concluder’, Gerent could see it was an item of reverence to them, like a football trophy would be at home. Morvah explained later that it was stabbed into the surface of a table when negotiations were successfully concluded to formally bind and seal a contract, which did not impress Gerent. He was glad to leave the heat, the noise and the smell of stale cabbage leaves mixed with honeysuckle, which hung around the balcony, but the celebrations continued without them in the street below.

He was then conducted into a large hall, draped with embroidered banners and set with long tables, at which stood some of the people he had seen in the parade and numerous others he had not. All were proud, stiff and formal dressed in their very best and all curtsied or bowed at his entrance. Morvah, who rested her good hand on his arm, swept him down the room with her head held high and he was sat beside Madron at the table set at the head of the room. Gerent felt very self conscious with all these people looking at him, whispering about him and expecting something from him, but he did not know what. Madron gave a brief speech of welcome and Gerent was relieved to know he did not have to reply, after which the food was brought in by servants, dressed in heavy embroidered tunics, who paraded into the room carrying large platters piled with food, held at shoulder height.

The dagger ‘Concluder’ was strapped to his side after lunch, as Madron said the burghers would expect to see it there, as it had been presented to Gerent. Then he was taken to the castle entrance where Madron, Morvah and he walked, followed by a troop of armed guards, through the crowded streets to the meeting house.