"I will buy that rug," he said, "for of a truth it might be one on which I lay sick many a year ago in the house of Ayoub at Damascus.Nay, I haggle not at the price.I will buy it." Then he fell to thinking how, whilst Iying on such a rug (indeed, although he knew it not, it was the same), looking through the rounded beads of the wooden lattice-work of his window, he had first seen his Eastern wife walking in the orange garden with her father Ayoub.Afterwards, still recalling his youth, he began to talk of Cyprus, and so time went on until the dark was falling.
Now Georgios said that he must be going, as he had sent back his guide to Southminster, where the man desired to eat his Christmas feast.So the reckoning was paid--it was a long one--and while the horses were harnessed to the wain the merchant bored holes in the little cask of wine and set spigots in them, bidding them all be sure to drink of it that night.Then calling down good fortune on them for their kindness and liberality, he made his salaams in the Eastern fashion, and departed, accompanied by Wulf.
Within five minutes there was a sound of shouting, and Wulf was back again saying that the wheel of the wain had broken at the first turn, so that now it was Iying upon its side in the courtyard.Sir Andrew and Godwin went out to see to the matter, and there they found Georgios wringing his hands, as only an Eastern merchant can, and cursing in some foreign tongue.
"Noble knights," he said, "what am I to do? Already it is nearly dark, and how I shall find my way up yonder steep hill I know not.As for the priceless broideries, I suppose they must stay here for the night, since that wheel cannot be mended till to-morrow--""As you had best do also," said Sir Andrew kindly."Come, man, do not grieve; we are used to broken axles here in Essex, and you and your servant may as well eat your Christmas dinners at Steeple as in Southminster.""I thank you, Sir knight; I thank you.But why should I, who am but a merchant, thrust myself upon your noble company? Let me stop outside with my man, Petros, and dine with your people in that barn, where I see they are making ready their food.""By no means," answered Sir Andrew."Leave your servant with my people, who will look after him, and come you into the hall, and tell me some more of Cyprus till our food is ready, which will be soon.Do not fear for your goods; they shall be placed under cover.""All unworthy as I am, I obey," answered the obsequious Georgios.
"Petros, do you understand? This noble lord gives us hospitality for the night.His people will show you where to eat and sleep, and help you with your horses."This man, who, he explained, was a Cypriote--a fisherman in summer and a muleteer in winter--bowed, and fixing his dark eyes upon those of his master, spoke in some foreign tongue.
"You hear what he says, the silly fellow?" said Georgios."What?
You do not understand Greek--only Arabic? Well, he asks me to give him money to pay for his dinner and his night's lodging.You must forgive him, for he is but a simple peasant, and cannot believe that anyone may be lodged and fed without payment.I will explain to him, the pig!" And explain he did in shrill, high notes, of which no one else could understand a word.
"There, Sir Knight, I do not think he will offend you so again.
Ah! look.He is walking off--he is sulky.Well, let him alone; he will be back for his dinner, the pig! Oh, the wet and the wind! ACypriote does not mind them in his sheepskins, in which he will sleep even in the snow."So, Georgios still declaiming upon the shortcomings of his servant, they went back into the hall.Here the conversation soon turned upon other matters, such as the differences between the creeds of the Greek and Latin churches--a subject upon which he seemed to be an expert --and the fear of the Christians in Cyprus lest Saladin should attempt to capture that island.
At length five o'clock came, and Georgios having first been taken to the lavatory--it was but a stone trough-- to wash his hands, was led to the dinner, or rather to the supper-table, which stood upon a dais in front of the entrance to the solar.Here places were laid for six--Sir Andrew, his nephews, Rosamund, the chaplain, Matthew, who celebrated masses in the church and ate at the hall on feast-days, and the Cypriote merchant, Georgios himself.Below the dais, and between it and the fire, was another table, at which were already gathered twelve guests, being the chief tenants of Sir Andrew and the reeves of his outlying lands.
On most days the servants of the house, with the huntsmen, swineherds, and others, sat at a third table beyond the fire.But as nothing would stop these from growing drunken on the good ale at a feast, and though many ladies thought little of it, there was no sin that Rosamund hated so much as this, now their lord sent them to eat and drink at their ease in the barn which stood in the courtyard with its back to the moat.
When all had taken their seats, the chaplain said grace, and the meal began.It was rude but very plentiful.First, borne in by the cook on a wooden platter, came a great codfish, whereof he helped portions to each in turn, laying them on their "trenchers"-- that is, large slices of bread--whence they ate them with the spoons that were given to each.After the fish appeared the meats, of which there were many sorts, served on silver spits.These included fowls, partridges, duck, and, chief of all, a great swan, that the tenants greeted by knocking their horn mugs upon the table; after which came the pastries, and with them nuts and apples.For drink, ale was served at the lower table.On the dais however, they drank some of the black wine which Wulf had bought--that is, except Sir Andrew and Rosamund, the former because he dared not, and the latter because she had always hated any drink but water--a dislike that came to her, doubtless, with her Eastern blood.
