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 wantof the stranger or traveller, and seemed to old Fitzstephen to realisePlato’s dreams.
“Here,” says the chronicler, going into details, “according to theseason, you may find victuals of all sorts, roasted, baked, fried, andboiled; fish large and small, and coarse viands for the poorer sort, andmore delicate ones for the rich--such as venison, fowls, and smallbirds.
“In case a friend should arrive at a citizen’s house much wearied withhis journey, and chooses not to wait, an hungered as he is, for thebuying and cooking of meats, recourse is had to the bank beforementioned, where everything desirable is instantly procured. No numberof knights and strangers can enter the city at any hour of the day ornight but all may be supplied with provisions; so that those have nooccasion to fast too long, nor these to depart the city without dinner.
“To this place, if they are so disposed, they resort, and there theyregale themselves, every man according to his abilities. Those who havea mind to indulge need not hanker after sturgeon, or a game fowl, or a_gelinotte-de-bois_--a particularly delicate bird--for there aredelicacies 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 clearproof of its civilisation.”
At one of the tables of this celebrated eating-house, on the last day ofJuly, the day for Lammas, a young warrior, strong and handsome, ratherbrilliantly attired as a squire of noble Norman birth, was seated with acompanion somewhat his junior, whom he called Rufus. They had finishedtheir meal, which had been of the most costly description, and wereindulging, though moderately, in the most expensive Bordeaux wine whichthe establishment boasted, the squire justifying his extravagance byquoting--
“Nullus argento color est,-- ---- nisi temperato Splendeat usu,”
when Constantine Fitzarnulph entered, and cordially saluted them.
“Welcome back to England and to London, fair sir,” said the citizen,seating himself, and addressing the elder of the two, while he helpedhimself to a cup of wine. “You have come in the very moment of time toserve your country; but, as my trusty messenger doubtless informed you,I have much to say of a private nature; and this place being somewhatpublic, and the drawers, moreover, being parlous spies, I would fainconduct you to my own house that we may converse more freely.”
“Thanks, good Fitzarnulph,” replied the other, nodding easily as heraised a wine-cup to his lips; “I arede your meaning. But, in soberearnest, I am free to confess that, the business being of such a natureas your trusty messenger gave me to understand, I see not how it canhave other than a disastrous issue. Credit me,” added he, looking roundcautiously to assure himself that he was not overheard, “it is vain toexpect the country to come around you unless your enterprise be headedby a man bearing a great and renowned name, and one about which clustersa halo of associations to dazzle the multitude.”
“Faint heart never won fair lady,” said Fitzarnulph, “and men must runsome risks in regenerating a nation. Besides, there will not be wantingsuch a leader as you picture, if once it is known that there exists aladder by which such a man may climb to a splendid eminence.”
“In the days of my youth,” said the other, almost sadly, “I had greatfaith in the Lord Hugh de Moreville. By St. John of Beverley! he was agreat man, and of high lineage, but he made a false step and fell; and Icould almost weep when I think how the feathers drooped from that day,one by one, from the De Moreville eagle.”
“Wherefore not recall Louis of France, a prince who has both the willand the power to aid us?” asked Fitzarnulph, cautiously.
“By the Holy Cross!” replied the other, striking the table in hisenthusiasm; “as soon would I consent to invoke the aid of the Sultan ofEgypt, or the King of the Tartars. No foreign prince for me, least ofall a Frank, and of all Franks, least of all a Capet.”
“The Lord Robert Fitzwalter yet lives,” suggested Fitzarnulph, in asignificant tone.
“He lives, indeed,” said the other, half scornfully; “but he lives witha reputation much the worse for the wear. The man who played towardsEngland the part which Count Julian played towards Spain is not the manto head Englishmen when hazarding everything to regenerate theircountry. Therefore let us speak no more of Robert Fitzwalter.”
“By St. Thomas! fair sir,” exclaimed Fitzarnulph, testily, “you aresomewhat difficult to please in the choice of a leader; and, since thenames I have mentioned are so ungrateful to your ear, I know not who iscapable of assuming the truncheon of command in this greatenterprise--for great it is destined to be--unless, indeed, it be aNorman lord, young in years, but already well known to fame--I meanWalter Merley.”
The young warrior smiled complacently, cast his eyes up to the roof, andthen around him, with the air of a person contemplating his ownperfections, and then looked Fitzarnulph in the face.
“Good Constantine,” said he, with his colour slightly heightened, “Iknow not whether you speak in jest or earnest, and, in good sooth, itmatters little. But this I do know, and say fearlessly, that I have notfought for the Venetian Republic and for the Emperor of Constantinoplewithout making my name, in some degree at least, known to fame; and thathad I castles, and baronies, and manors, and retainers, I should littlefear to occupy an eminence even more perilous than that to which youallude. But a younger son, without land and without followers, I feelstrongly that Fortune beckons me to other lands than that of my birth,and that there are many countries in Christendom where my sword would bewelcome. All over Christendom are wars and rumours of wars. Not tomention what the Venetians and the Emperor of Constantinople are doingagainst the Greeks, I know that in France war is going on against theAlbigenses; in Spain against the Moors; in Germany, Otho and youngFrederick, a prince of rare promise, are contending for the imperialcrown; in Sweden, King Eric, surnamed the Lisper, is at war with theTole Kungers; Waldemar, King of Denmark, is contending with Albert ofLauenburg, who is essaying to make himself master of Holstein; Lescus,the King of Poland, is valiantly resisting the Tartars; John de Brienne,King of Jerusalem, is defending himself desperately against the Turks.Mayhap I have some difficulty in choosing, under such circumstances,whither to direct my course; but no fear have I of finding a welcomewherever swords are drawing and blows being exchanged. It is only inmine own country that I am without honour; and, by the mass! I see notwherefore I should sacrifice the prospects of carving out a principalitywith my sword in order to risk my head in an enterprise into which, asit seems to me, you are being hurried rather by the promptings ofdespair than the beckoning of hope.”
Fitzarnulph sat for a few moments in an attitude of reflection, andappeared to muse deeply; then suddenly he raised his head, andaddressed the young warrior with an expression of peculiar earnestnesson his countenance.
“Accompany me to my house,” said he, “and I will there show such reasonsfor venturing upon this enterprise that you will not only agree to takepart in it, but consent to do so in the character of its leader.”
Walter Merley smiled as if gratified, so far as his vanity wasconcerned, with the prospect of heading an enterprise for theregeneration of England, and, rising with his companion, they attendedFitzarnulph to his house. When, three hours later, Walter Merley leftFitzarnulph’s house, and walked through the narrow streets, he was thewily citizen’s dupe.
Runnymede and Lincoln Fair: A Story of the Great Charter Page 59
