It was
music to him; for it meant that the English world was out in its
strength to give loyal welcome to the great day.
Presently Tom found himself once more the chief figure in a
wonderful floating pageant on the Thames; for by ancient custom the
'recognition procession' through London must start from the Tower, and
he was bound thither.
When he arrived there, the sides of the venerable fortress
seemed suddenly rent in a thousand places, and from every rent
leaped a red tongue of flame and a white gush of smoke; a deafening
explosion followed, which drowned the shoutings of the multitude,
and made the ground tremble; the flame-jets, the smoke, and the
explosions were repeated over and over again with marvelous
celerity, so that in a few moments the old Tower disappeared in the
vast fog of its own smoke, all but the very top of the tall pile
called the White Tower; this, with its banners, stood out above the
dense bank of vapor as a mountain peak projects above a cloud-rack.
Tom Canty, splendidly arrayed, mounted a prancing war-steed, whose
rich trappings almost reached to the ground; his 'uncle,' the Lord
Protector Somerset, similarly mounted, took place in his rear; the
King's Guard formed in single ranks on either side, clad in
burnished armor; after the Protector followed a seemingly interminable
procession of resplendent nobles attended by their vassals; after
these came the lord mayor and the aldermanic body, in crimson velvet
robes, and with their gold chains across their breasts; and after
these the officers and members of all the guilds of London, in rich
raiment, and bearing the showy banners of the several corporations.
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