Addressing himself to a stout-built yeoman of the guard, who was standing within the doorway, Nicholas Clamp demanded admittance to the kitchen, and the man having detained them for a few moments, during which he regarded Mabel with a very offensive stare, ushered them into a small hall, and from thence into a narrow passage connected with it.Lighted by narrow loopholes pierced through the walls, which were of immense thickness, this passage described the outer side of the whole upper quadrangle, and communicated with many other lateral passages and winding stairs leading to the chambers allotted to the household or to the state apartments.Tracking it for some time, Nicholas Clamp at length turned off on the right, and, crossing a sort of ante-room, led the way into a large chamber with stone walls and a coved and groined roof, lighted by a great window at the lower end.This was the royal kitchen, and in it yawned no fewer than seven huge arched fireplaces, in which fires were burning, and before which various goodly joints were being roasted, while a number of cooks and scullions were congregated round them.At a large table in the centre of the kitchen were seated some half-dozen yeomen of the guard, together with the clerk of the kitchen, the chief bargeman, and the royal cutler, or bladesmith, as he was termed.
These worthies were doing ample justice to a chine of beef, a wild-boar pie, a couple of fat capons, a peacock pasty, a mess of pickled lobsters, and other excellent and inviting dishes with which the board was loaded.Neither did they neglect to wash down the viands with copious draughts of ale and mead from great pots and flagons placed beside them.Behind this party stood Giovanni Joungevello, an Italian minstrel, much in favour with Anne Boleyn, and Domingo Lamellino, or Lamelyn--as he was familiarly termed--a Lombard, who pretended to some knowledge of chirurgery, astrology, and alchemy, and who was a constant attendant on Henry.At the head of the bench, on the right of the table, sat Will Sommers.The jester was not partaking of the repast, but was chatting with Simon Quanden, the chief cook, a good-humoured personage, round-bellied as a tun, and blessed with a spouse, yclept Deborah, as fond of good cheer, as fat, and as good-humoured as himself.Behind the cook stood the cellarman, known by the appellation of Jack of the Bottles, and at his feet were two playful little turnspits, with long backs, and short forelegs, as crooked almost as sickles.
On seeing Mabel, Will Sommers immediately arose, and advancing towards her with a mincing step, bowed with an air of mock ceremony,and said in an affected tone," Welcome, fair mistress, to the king's kitchen.We are all right glad to see you; are we not, mates?""Ay, that we are!" replied a chorus of voices.
"By my troth, the wench is wondrously beautiful!" said Kit Coo, one of the yeomen of the guard.
"No wonder the king is smitten with her," said Launcelot Rutter, the bladesmith; "her eyes shine like a dagger's point.""And she carries herself like a wafter on the river," said the bargeman.
"Her complexion is as good as if I had given her some of my sovereign balsam of beauty," said Domingo Lamelyn.
"Much better," observed Joungevello, the minstrel; "I shall write a canzonet in her praise, and sing it before the king.""And get flouted for thy pains by the Lady Anne," said Kit Coo.
"The damsel is not so comely as I expected to find her," observed Amice Lovekyn, one of the serving-women, to Hector Cutbeard, the clerk of the kitchen.
"Why, if you come to that, she is not to be compared to you, pretty Amice," said Cutbeard, who was a red-nosed, red-faced fellow, with a twinkling merry eye.
"Nay, I meant not that," replied Amice, retreating.
"Excuse my getting up to receive you, fair mistress," cried Simon Quanden, who seemed fixed to his chair; "I have been bustling about all day, and am sore fatigued--sore fatigued.But will you not take something? A sugared cate, and a glass of hypocras jelly, or a slice of capon? Go to the damsel, dame, and prevail on her to eat."That will I," replied Deborah."What shall it be,sweetheart? We have a well-stored larder here.You have only to ask and have.""I thank you, but Jam in want of nothing," replied Mabel.
"Nay, that is against all rule, sweetheart," said Deborah; no one enters the king's kitchen without tasting his royal cheer.""I am sorry I must prove an exception, then," returned Mabel, smiling;"for I have no appetite."
"Well, well, I will not force you to eat against your will," replied the good dame "But a cup of wine will do you good after your walk.""I will wait upon her," said the Duke of Shoreditch.' who vied with Paddington and Nick Clamp in attention to the damsel.
"Let me pray you to cast your eyes upon these two dogs, fair Mabel,"said Will Sommers, pointing to the two turn-spits, "they are special favourites of the king's highness.They are much attached to the cook, their master; but their chief love is towards each other, and nothing can keep them apart.""Will Sommers speaks the truth," rejoined Simon Quanden."Hob and Nob, for so they are named, are fast friends.When Hob gets into the box to turn the spit, Nob will watch beside it till his brother is tired, and then he will take his place.They always eat out of the same platter, and drink out of the same cup.I once separated them for a few hours to see what would happen, but they howled so piteously, that I was forced to bring them together again.It would have done your heart good to witness their meeting, and to see how they leaped and rolled with delight.Here, Hob," he added, taking a cake from his apron pocket, "divide this with thy brother."Placing his paws upon his master's knees, the nearest turnspit took the cake in his mouth, and proceeding towards Nob, broke it into two pieces, and pushed the larger portion towards him.
