Congratulations, rejoicings, and public thanksgivings followed the queen’s preservation from the hand of the assassin. Courtenay, who had long planned a masque to be exhibited for her amusement within the Tower, thought this a fitting occasion to produce it. And the utmost expedition being used, on the day but one after Underhill’s attempt, all was in readiness.
Great mystery having been observed in the preparations for the pageant, that it might come upon the spectators as a surprise, none, except those actually concerned in it, knew what was intended to be represented. Even the actors, themselves, were kept in darkness concerning it, and it was only on the night before, when their dresses were given them, that they had any precise notion of the characters they were to assume. A sort of rehearsal then took place in one of the lower chambers of the palace; at which the Earl of Devonshire assisted in person, and instructed them in their parts. A few trials soon made all perfect, and when the rehearsal was over, Courtenay felt satisfied that the pageant would go off with tolerable eclat.
As may be supposed, the three gigantic warders and their diminutive follower were among the mummers. Indeed, the principal parts wore assigned them; and on no previous occasion had Xit’s characteristic coxcombry been more strongly called forth than during the rehearsal. No consequential actor of modern times could give himself more airs. Perceiving he was indispensable, he would only do exactly what pleased him, and, when reprimanded for his impertinence, refused to perform at all, and was about to walk off with an air of offended dignity. A few conciliatory words, however, from the Earl of Devonshire induced him to return; and when all was arranged to his satisfaction, he began to exhibit a fun and humour that bid fair to outshine all his competitors.
The rehearsal over, a substantial repast was provided by the earl for his troop. And here, as usual, the giants acquitted themselves to admiration. Unfortunately, however, for Magog, his spouse was present, and his dull apprehension of his part at the rehearsal, having excited her displeasure, she now visited it upon his devoted head. Whenever he helped himself to a piece of meat, or a capon, she snatched it from his plate, and transferred it to those of his brethren.
Supper was nearly over, and the hen-pecked giant, who as yet had tasted nothing, was casting wistful glances at the fast-vanishing dishes, when Dame Placida arose, and saying she was greatly fatigued, expressed her determination to return home immediately. In vain Magog remonstrated. She was firm, and her hapless spouse was arising with a most rueful countenance to accompany her, when Ribald very obligingly offered to take his place and escort her. Dame Placida appeared nothing loth, and Magog, having eagerly embraced the proposal, the pair departed.
“And now brother,” said Gog, “you can do as you please. Make up for lost time.”
“Doubt it not,” replied Magog, “and by way of commencing, I will trouble you for that sirloin of beef. Send me the dish and the carving-knife, I pray you, for with this puny bit of steel I can make no progress at all.”
His request was immediately complied with, and it was pleasant to behold with what inconceivable rapidity slice after slice disappeared. In a brief space, a few bare bones were all that remained of the once-lordly joint. Magog’s brethren watched his progress with truly fraternal interest. Their own appetites being satisfied, they had full leisure to minister to his wants; and most sedulously did they attend to them. A brisket of veal, steeped in verjuice, supplied the place of the sirloin, and a hare-pie, in due season, that of the veal.
Magog acknowledged these attentions with grateful murmurings.
He was too busy to speak. When the hare-pie, which was of a somewhat savoury character, was entirely consumed, he paused for a moment, and pointed significantly to a large measure of wine at some little distance from him. Og immediately stretched out his arm, and handed it to him. Nodding to his brother, the married giant drained its contents at a draught, and then applied himself with new ardour to the various dishes with which his plate was successively laden.
“What would your wife say, if she could see you now?” observed Peter Trusbut, who sat opposite to him, and witnessed his proceedings with singular satisfaction.
“Don’t mention her,” rejoined Magog, bolting a couple of cheesecakes which he had crammed, at the same time, into his capacious mouth; “don’t mention her, or you will take away my appetite.”
“No fear of that,” laughed the pantler; “but what say you to a glass of distilled waters? It will be a good wind-up to your meal, and aid digestion.”
“With all my heart,” rejoined the giant.
The pantler then handed him a stone bottle, holding perhaps a quart, and knowing his propensities, thought it needful to caution him as to the strength of the liquid. Disregarding the hint, Magog emptied the greater part of the spirit into a flagon, and tossed it off, as if it had been water. Peter Trusbut held up his hands in amazement, and expected to see the giant drop senseless under the table. But no such event followed. The only consequence of the potent draught being that it brought the water into his eyes, and made him gasp a little to recover his breath.
“How do you feel after it, brother?” inquired Og, slapping him on the shoulder.
“So valiant,” hiccupped Magog, “that I think when I get home, I shall assert my proper position as a lord of the creation.”
“Act up to that resolution, Master Magog,” observed the pantler, laughing, “and I shall not think my liquor thrown away.”
“If such be its effect,” said Xit, who; it has before been remarked, had an unconquerable tendency to imitate, and, if possible, exceed the extravagancies of his companions, “I will e’en try a drop of it myself.”
And before he could be prevented, the mannikin applied the stone bottle to his lips, and drained it to the last drop. If Magog’s brain was sufficiently stolid to resist the effect of the fiery liquid, Xit’s was not. Intoxication speedily displayed itself in the additional brilliancy of his keen sparkling little orbs, and in all his gestures. At first, his antics created much diversion, and he was allowed to indulge them freely; but before long he became so outrageous and mischievous, that it was found necessary to restrain him. Springing upon the table, he cut the most extraordinary capers among the dishes, breaking several of them, upsetting the flagons and pots of wine, tweaking the noses of the male guests, kissing the females, and committing a hundred other monkey tricks.
On being called to order, he snapped his fingers in the face of the reprover, and conceiving himself especially affronted by Gog, he threw a goblet at his head. Luckily, the missile was caught before it reached its mark. He next seized a torch, and perceiving that Magog had fallen asleep, set fire to his beard, to arouse him. Starting to his feet, the giant clapped his hand to his chin—too late however, to save a particle of his hirsute honours. His rage was terrific. Roaring like a wild bull, he vowed he would be the death of the offender; and would have kept his word, if it had not been for his brethren, who, seizing each an arm, restrained him by main strength, and forced him into his seat, where, after a few minutes, his anger gave way to laughter.
This was mainly attributable to an accident that befel Xit in his hurry to escape. Not being particular where he set his feet, the dwarf plumped into an open plum tart, the syrup of which was so thick and glutinous that it detained him as effectually as birdlime. In his terror, he dragged the dish after him to a considerable distance, and his grimaces were so irresistibly ludicrous that they convulsed the beholders with laughter. No one attempted to assist him, and it was only by the loss of both shoes that he could extricate himself from his unpleasant situation. Peter Trusbut then seized him, and thrusting him into a basket, fastened down the lid to prevent further mischief.
This occurrence served as the signal for separation. Og and Gog took their way to the By-ward Tower, the latter carrying the basket containing Xit under his arm, while Magog, bemoaning the loss of his beard, and afraid of presenting himself to his wife under such untoward circumstances, accompanied them as far as the gateway of the Bloody Tower. Here he paused to say good night.
“Would I could anticipate a good night, myself!” he groaned “But I can neither eat, drink, nor sleep in comfort now. Ah! brothers, if I had but listened to your advice! But repentance comes too late.”
“It does—it does,” replied Gog; “But let us hope your dame will amend.”
“That she never will,” screamed Xit from the basket. “What a lucky escape I had—ha! ha!”
“Peace! thou stinging gadfly,” roared Magog. “Am I ever to be tormented by thee!”
But as Xit, who imagined himself secure, only laughed the louder, he grew at last so enraged, that snatching the basket from Og, he placed it on the ground, and gave it such a kick, that it flew to the top of the ramparts beyond Traitor’s Tower, where it was picked up by a sentinel, and the dwarf taken out more dead than alive.
On reaching his habitation—which was the same Dame Placida had formerly occupied during her state of widowhood, at the right of the road leading from the Bloody Tower to the Green,—Magog found she had not retired to rest as he expected, but was engaged in conversation with Ribald, who had been prevailed upon to remain for a few minutes to taste the ale for which she was so much, and so justly, celebrated. One cup had led to another, and the jovial warder seemed ‘in no hurry to depart. The giant was delighted to see him, and, forgetting his misfortune, was about to shake him heartily by the hand, when his wife screamed out—“Why Magog, what is the matter with your chin? You have lost your beard!”
Humbly deprecating her resentment, the giant endeavoured to explain. But as nothing would satisfy her, he was fain to leave her with Ribald, and betake himself to his couch, where he speedily fell asleep, and forgot his troubles.