Now let the ancient chronicler speak:
'A gentleman enters the room bearing a rod, and along with him
another bearing a table-cloth, which, after they have both kneeled
three times with the utmost veneration, he spreads upon the table, and
after kneeling again they both retire; then come two others, one
with the rod again, the other with a salt-cellar, a plate, and
bread; when they have kneeled as the others had done, and placed
what was brought upon the table, they too retire with the same
ceremonies performed by the first; at last come two nobles richly
clothed, one bearing a tasting-knife, who, after prostrating
themselves in the most graceful manner, approach and rub the table
with bread and salt, with as much awe as if the king had been
present.'*(14)
So end the solemn preliminaries. Now, far down the echoing
corridors we hear a bugle-blast, and the indistinct cry, 'Place for
the king! way for the king's most excellent majesty!' These sounds are
momently repeated- they grow nearer and nearer- and presently,
almost in our faces, the martial note peals and the cry rings out,
'Way for the king!' At this instant the shining pageant appears, and
files in at the door, with a measured march. Let the chronicler
speak again:
'First come Gentlemen, Barons, Earls, Knights of the Garter, all
richly dressed and bareheaded; next comes the Chancellor, between two,
one of which carries the royal scepter, the other the Sword of State
in a red scabbard, studded with golden fleurs-de-lis, the point
upwards; next comes the King himself- whom, upon his appearing, twelve
trumpets and many drums salute with a great burst of welcome, whilst
all in the galleries rise in their places, crying "God save the King!"
After him come nobles attached to his person, and on his right and
left march his guard of honor, his fifty Gentlemen Pensioners, with
gilt battle-axes.
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