Part 3

Meanwhile Colin and Margery were already absorbed in the second pageant, which, drawn as before by men (this time by the Plasterers’ apprentices), had stopped in the same place just beneath the window.

IV The Making of Sun, Moon, and Stars: of Birds, Beasts, and Fishes: of Man and Woman. The Garden of Eden

When the curtains were drawn aside, another figure, representing God Almighty, was seen seated on a golden throne. When He spoke, it was to bid the earth take shape; and as He uttered commands, various painted cloths were unrolled, falling one over the other to form a background to His throne.

First, He commanded the light to be divided from the darkness.

At the word, a curtain, half of which was black, the other half white, fell from the canopy overhead down to the rush-strewn floor.

When He bade two great lights appear, “the greater light to rule the day and the lesser light to rule the night,” when “He made the stars also,” a painted sky was unrolled with the sun, the moon, and the stars upon it, and a picture of the sea, with fish swimming in it, followed the words, “Let the waters bring forth abundantly the moving creature that hath life.”

“Now the birds are coming!” whispered Giles, just before the command that fowl should “fly above the earth in the open firmament of heaven.”

Almost as he spoke, a flight of pigeons rose into the air, first fluttering a moment above the pageant, then wheeling off in many directions, while the crowd watched them open-mouthed.

“John Wiseman had them ready in a basket!” Giles eagerly explained. “He is standing on the platform at the back of the stage, behind the sky, you know; and he let them out just at the right moment, didn’t he? There ought to have been a lot of other birds, but they are difficult to get. You see what the direction says?”—he pointed to a page in a parchment-covered book which he held, but Colin and Margery shook their heads and looked with respect at their cousin, who could actually read! They remembered that Giles was said to be a great scholar, and was probably going to be a priest when he grew up. That, of course, accounted for his learning.

“I’ll read it to you,” said the boy, remembering that his cousins knew nothing of books. “The words of the pageant are here, and all the stage directions, just as Robert Crowe, who wrote out the play for the Plasterers, has copied them. This is what it says about the birds—_Then one ought in secret to put little birds flying in the air and alighting upon the_ _earth with the most foreign birds that one is able to procure._”

“That’s all very well,” remarked Giles, closing the book; “but it’s difficult. So they had to make pigeons do.”

“But they were so pretty!” Margery said. She did not mind talking for a little while now, for there were no more painted scenes to look at, and she scarcely understood the speech which followed the command for “cattle and creeping things, and beasts of the earth” to come into existence.

In a moment however, her attention was again arrested, for the curtains were drawn, the pageant was pulled away, and, before it had disappeared, a new one, the third, had come into sight.

“This is the _Cardmakers’_ play,” said Giles, consulting his pageant book. “It is about God the Father creating Adam and Eve.”

“Cardmakers?” Margery asked, rather puzzled at the name. As a country child she did not know all the trades of the town guilds.

“They are the people who make the cards for the wool to be combed on, before it is made up into stuffs, you know,” Giles told her.

“Then comes the _Fullers’_ play,” he went on, reading from the book, “God forbidding Adam and Eve to eat of the Tree of Life. Afterwards the _Coopers_ do Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden; and the serpent deceiving them with apples; and God speaking to them and cursing the serpent, and with a sword driving them out of Paradise.”

“Come, children! you must be hungry!” called Mistress Harpham at this moment. “Come and have something to eat.”

Margery turned reluctantly from the window, where, on the scaffolding, the third play was just beginning; and her aunt laughed.

“Bless the child! You can’t sit looking at the pageants all day without food!” she exclaimed. “There are plenty more of ’em in all conscience. Come along now. Giles will have to go when he’s eaten something. He must soon be starting for his play.”

By this time all of the guests were seated at trestle-tables, which had been placed at the back of the room and spread with all sorts of food. There were huge joints, and fat capons, and plenty of ale, to which the guests did ample justice.

Colin and Margery, with Giles between them, were squeezed in at one of the tables, and soon discovered that they were very hungry. There was a great clattering of plates and knives, and a babel of conversation. The pageants already seen, were criticized, praised, or condemned, and compared with those of the preceding year; and all the guests politely declared how they were looking forward to the play of the Parchment-makers and Bookbinders, the guild to which their host belonged.

“How is it that Giles is allowed to be here, and not with his company?” inquired the grave but kind-looking man whom Giles had pointed out as Matthew Gyseburn, the lawyer.

“The council gave him special permission to stay at home till the fifth pageant was on its way,” explained his mother. “My husband is an important man on the Town Council, as you know,” she added proudly. “And you see, Giles isn’t a _paid_ player! He acts for the love of it—bless him. And he’s none too strong,” she added, lowering her voice. “Those hours of waiting would make him ill. But as soon as ever this Coopers’ pageant moves off, his father will take him to join his company and help him to dress.”

“Are you going?” asked Margery sadly, as Giles got up from the table. “I’m so sorry. There won’t be any one to tell us all about it now, and I shan’t understand!”

“You shall sit by me, little mistress and master,” said the good-natured lawyer, smiling. “I’ll do my best to make up for Giles. Here, boy! leave me the ‘pageant-book,’ in case I’m asked more questions than I know how to answer.”

Giles gave him the book, and, then anxiously pulling his father by the arm, forced him to get up.

“So afraid he’ll be late!” cried Master Harpham, laughing. “There’s heaps of time; but perhaps we’d better be starting.”

“Will you ever get through the crowd?” asked a woman anxiously.

“Oh, we know all the backways; don’t we, Giles? We shall slip along the side-alleys in no time, up to where his pageant is waiting. See you again, neighbours!” He nodded to the company, and, pushing Giles before him, went out.

“May we go to the window now?” begged Margery, who could hear the players talking, and was longing not to miss too many of the plays.

“To be sure, my dears, if you have had enough to eat,” said Mistress Harpham.

The children ran to their places, and found the Coopers’ play going on.

This pageant, they noticed, had _three_ rooms or stages one beneath the other. On the highest, or Heaven stage, sat God Almighty; beneath it, in the Garden of Eden, were Adam and Eve; and the third, still lower stage, represented Earth.

But the children’s attention was riveted on the second stage, round which branches of trees and flowers were placed to represent a garden. In the midst was the Tree of Life, with golden fruit upon it, and in the shadow of the tree there was a strange group. Adam and Eve, both of whom were played by tall boys dressed in close-fitting skins dyed flesh-colour, were talking to a huge serpent who, coiled round the trunk of the tree, was tempting them.

“There must be some one speaking inside him,” exclaimed Margery. “He’s big enough to hide a boy at least—isn’t he?”

“Hush!” said Colin; “listen to what he’s saying.”

The serpent’s great head was turned towards Eve, and his voice was full of persuasion. “Ye shall not surely die!” he told her; “for God doth know that in the day ye eat thereof then your eyes shall be opened, and ye shall be as gods, knowing good and evil.”

Then Eve looked longingly at the golden fruit, and hesitated.

“She’s going to pick it!” whispered Margery.

“Yes! look! She has broken off a branch, and she’s giving the fruit to Adam. Now she’s talking to him.”

“And now they’re eating the apples!” cried Colin; “and God will be angry! They know He will be angry. See, they’re hiding themselves. They can hear His voice!”

And presently, while they watched, God Almighty came down the steps which led from Heaven to Paradise, and entered the garden. Here he questioned Adam and Eve, and afterwards turned to the serpent and cursed him. Then, holding a flashing sword above the heads of the guilty man and woman, He told them of their punishment; and finally drove them weeping from the garden, down to the earth, upon which they were henceforth to live.

The Armourers’ pageant was by this time waiting its turn at the corner of the market-place, and when the Coopers’ scaffold was dragged away it speedily took its place.

“Now we shall see Adam and Eve’s life on the earth,” said the lawyer, who had come to the window, and was standing just behind the children.

The curtains before the stage were drawn back, and Adam and Eve, no longer happy and light-hearted, were seen on the earth, where henceforth they had to work in sorrow and suffering. As they sadly talked together, an angel with golden wings appeared to them. To Adam he gave a spade, bidding him till the ground, and to Eve a distaff, commanding her to work for her household.

The Glovers’ play came next. The characters in it were Cain and Abel, and the story told of the murder of Abel by Cain, and of Cain’s punishment.

It was all very interesting to the children, but they were looking forward so eagerly to the following pageant that they could not refrain from glancing every now and again towards the corner of the market-place at which it would appear.

Noah’s ark was the subject, and the lawyer, Master Gyseburn, had told them it would be an amusing play.

It did not seem strange to any of the people assembled that a few of the plays should be written on purpose to make the audience laugh. It had long been the custom to make into comic scenes one or two of the Bible stories in which no sacred characters appeared. The monks who wrote the plays remembered how long and how patiently the crowd had to stand, and they thought that if the people sometimes laughed, their attention would be kept fresh for the more serious part of the Bible teaching.

So Colin and Margery heard without surprise and with joyful anticipation that Noah’s wife would be very funny. They were exceedingly anxious also to see the ark, which Master Gyseburn described as a wonderful piece of work.

There was altogether a good deal of excitement about the two following plays, and much conversation concerning them went on amongst the guests assembled at Master Harpham’s.

“They are not our plays—the York plays—at all, are they?” asked a pretty young girl who sat near Margery.

“No,” returned a neighbour; “I hear they are both borrowed from Chester, because they are better than our own pageants.”

“’Tis very fitting that Noah’s ark should be performed by the Shipwrights and Mariners!” said Master Gyseburn. “If they don’t understand seafaring business, who should?”

“Here it comes!” shouted Colin, and every one gazed eagerly at the approaching pageant, which was drawn by the Shipwrights’ apprentices.

V Noah’s Ark

It paused, as usual, just beneath Master Harpham’s window.

“Why, there’s no ark!” exclaimed Margery, in a disappointed tone.

“Wait a bit!” Colin warned her. “It’s behind those curtains at the back, I expect. Noah has first to be told to build it, you see.”

Colin was right, for the play began with God’s announcement to Noah that the Deluge was approaching, and His command that a ship should be built.

Then Noah, a venerable old man with a long white beard, praised God for the warning, and spoke as follows:

“O Lorde, I thank Thee lowde and still, That to me arte in suche will, And spares me and my howse to spill, As I now southly [truly] fynde. Thy byddinge, Lorde, I shall fulfill, And never more Thee greve nor grill [provoke] That such grace hath sent me till, Amongst all mankinde.”

Noah’s sons and their wives now entered, and the old man turned to them and told them of the flood that was coming:

“Have done, you men and women all, Hye you, lest this watter fall To worche [work] this shippe chamber and hall As God hath bidden us doe,”

he said.

For the first time now, Noah’s wife came in, and her appearance was greeted by a roar of laughter from the crowd in the market-place and at the windows. The people understood that she was meant to be a very bad-tempered lady, and both her dress and her face were meant to make them laugh. The part was of course acted by a man (no woman ever acted in those days), and the player was a good actor whom every one knew.

At first the wife did not speak, though all the time her behaviour was amusing. Meanwhile the sons declared themselves ready to help with the ark.

“Father” (said Shem), “I am already bowne [prepared], An axe I have, by my croune! As sharp as any in all this toun For to go thereto.”

Then Ham spoke:

“I have a hatchet, wonder keen To bite well, as may be seen, A better ground one, as I ween, Is not in all this toun.”

Japhet also intended to do his best:

“And I can well make a pin, And with this hammer knock it in, Go and work without more din, And I am ready bowne [prepared].”

But Noah’s wife at once showed by her grumbling speech that she was obstinate, and did not intend to do much work:

“And we shall bring timber too, For women nothing else to do; Women be weak to undergo Any great travail,”

she declared.

At last, to the children’s delight, the curtains at the back of the stage parted, and they saw the ark. It was already very substantially built, for of course in the few minutes at the actors’ disposal they could do no more than _pretend_ to hammer and plane and saw. Indeed all the time that it was not in use, this ark hung in one of the churches in York, slung to the beams across the nave, from which place of safety it was every year taken down to do duty in the pageant.

Margery and Colin gazed with admiration upon the big ship, which was very much like the Noah’s arks we see nowadays in the toy-shops, only of course enormously larger. It was roofed in at the top, and gaily painted. There were little windows along the sides that opened and showed glimpses of rooms within. A mast with sails and rigging appeared above the roof, and altogether a more satisfactory and interesting ark can scarcely be imagined.

Noah and his sons began at once to work very busily, as though they were really building, Noah in these words explaining all there was to do:

“Now in the Name of God I will begin To make the ship that we shall in, That we be ready for to swim At the coming of the flood. These boards I join together, To keep us safe from the weather, That we may roam both hither and thither, And safe be from this flood. Of this tree will I have the mast, Tied with cables that will last. With a sail-yard for each blast, And each thing in its kind. With topmast high and bowsprit, With cords and ropes I hold all fit To sail forth at the next weete [tide] This ship is at an end.”

The ark, now finished by the pretended labours of the men, Noah turned to his wife and family.

“Wife” (he said), “in this castle we shall be kept; My children and thou I would in leaped.”

But Noah’s wife immediately began to show her temper. She had been looking all the time with scorn upon the building of the ship, and laughing with her neighbours, or “gossips,” as she called them, to see her husband and her sons working, as she considered, so foolishly; and when Noah begged her to come into safety, this was her contemptuous answer:

“In faith, Noe, I had as lief thou had slept, For all thy frankishfare [nonsense], For I will not do after thy rede [advice].”

“Good wife, do as I thee bid,”

said Noah, coaxingly.

“By Christ not, or I see more need, Though thou stand all the day and rave,”

she replied, while the crowd broke into roars of laughter to see the husband and wife quarrelling.

“Lord, that women be crabbed ay!”

exclaimed Noah, amid fresh laughter,

“And never are meek, that I dare say. This is well seen of me to-day, In witness of you each one. Good wife, let all this beere [noise] That thou makest in this place here; For they all ween thou art master, And so thou art, by St. John!”

But here, in order to attend to the various animals which had to be taken into the ark, Noah was obliged to cease arguing for a time; and the way in which this difficult business of the animals was represented, greatly amused and interested the children.

Each of Noah’s sons and daughters-in-law mentioned the names of many birds and beasts, and as they named them, they held up great figures painted on parchment, and cut out to represent the various creatures of which they spoke.

_Shem_ began the list:

“Sir, here are lions, leopards in, Horses, mares, oxen, and swine, Goats, calves, sheep, and kine Here sitten [settled] may you see.”

“Oh, look at the lion!” exclaimed Margery. “Isn’t he beautiful? And the pig, Colin! Did you ever see such a fat pig in your life?”

_Ham_ had now begun to show the animals in his charge:

“Camels, asses, men may find; Buck, doe, hart, and hind,”

he chanted, holding up the figure of each beast before putting it in the ark.

“Take here cats and dogs too (said _Japhet_), Otter, fox, fulmart also; Hares hopping gaily, can ye Have kail here for to eat.”

Presently also Noah’s wife, very scornfully laughing, showed _her_ animals:

“And here are bears, wolves set, Apes, owls, marmoset; Weasels, squirrels, and ferret, Here they eat their meat,”

she said.

Shem’s wife then went on with the list of creatures, first exclaiming at their number:

“Yet more beasts are in this house! Here cats come in full crowse [comfort], Here a rat and here a mouse, They stand nigh together.”

Margery wondered how the cats would get on with the rats and mice, but Shem’s wife offered no explanation, and immediately after her followed the wife of Ham:

“And here are fowls, less and more (she declared), Herons, cranes, and bittern; Swans, peacocks, have them before! [in front] Meat for this weather.”

“Here are cocks, kites, crows (said Japhet’s wife), Rooks, ravens, many rows; Cuckoos, curlews, whoso knows, Each one in his kind. And here are doves, ducks, drakes, Redshanks, running through the lakes— And each fowl that language makes In this ship men may find.”

At length, after the animals had all gone safely into the ark, Noah, to the huge delight of the crowd, turned again to his wife, and once more began to urge her to enter.

“Wife, come in, why standest thou there? (he entreated). Thou art ever forward, that I dare swear; Come on God’s half [behalf], time it were, For fear lest that we drown.”

But the foolish woman could not be persuaded. Nothing would induce her to enter the ark, she declared, unless her “gossips” were allowed to come too; and that, as we know from the story of the Flood, was forbidden, since only Noah and his family were allowed to embark.

“Yes, sir; set up your sail (said she), And row forth with evil heale, For without any fail I will not out of this town; But I have my gossips every one, One foot further I will not go. They shall not drown, by S. John! If I may save their life. They loved me full well, by Christ! But thou wilt let them in thy chest, Else row forth, Noah, whither thou list, And get thee a new wife.”

“It’s rather nice of her to want to save her friends, though—isn’t it?” exclaimed Margery, who was breathlessly interested.

“I don’t believe she cares a bit about them, really,” said Colin. “She only wants to be obstinate, and to make a fuss.”

“Now what are they doing? Will she be left behind?” asked Margery, anxiously.

“No,” said Master Gyseburn. “You see, Noah is sending his sons to make her go in. Listen to what Japhet says. He is just going to speak to her.”

“Mother (begged Japhet), we pray you altogether, For we are here, your children; Come into the ship for fear of the weather.”

“She won’t go! she won’t go!” cried Margery.

“Noah’s sending Shem to her again! There! he’s lifted her right in!” Colin exclaimed. “Oh, isn’t she angry!”

The people all round were laughing so much by this time, that the children could only just hear Shem’s words as he carried his mother up the plank into the ark:

“In faith, mother, yet you shall, Whether you will or not!”

“Welcome, wife, into this boat!” (cried Noah.)

“And have, then, that for thy note!” [trouble]

she returned, boxing her husband’s ears.

At this outbreak the crowd again shouted with laughter, and went on laughing still more when Noah put his hands to his ears, moaning and complaining. By degrees, however, as the flood was supposed to rise higher and higher, he and his wife were quieted.

“Over the land the water spreads! (Noah explained.) Now all this world is in a flood, As I see well in sight, This window will I close anon, And into my chamber will I gone.”

The children eagerly watched him as, one after one, he closed the windows of the ark, shutting in all the little company of people and all the beasts and birds that were to be saved.

“Now you must imagine that the ark is floating on the water!” said Master Gyseburn, smiling at Colin and Margery, who found no difficulty at all in doing so. “The windows will be shut for a little while, and we have to pretend that forty days have passed before Noah opens them again. Soon we shall hear him singing, and then we shall see him once more.”

In a few moments, indeed, voices were heard within the ark, upraised in a psalm of praise; and when it was ended the windows were slowly slipped back, and at one of them stood Noah, a leaden weight fastened to a long cord in his hand.

“What’s that for?” asked Colin. “What is he going to do?”

“Ah! he’s going to ‘cast the lead’ in proper fashion, just as sailors do when they want to find out how deep the sea is,” explained Master Gyseburn. “Don’t forget that this is the Shipwrights’ pageant, and they are learned in all seafaring business, as you may imagine.”

“Yes! he’s unwinding the line!” cried Colin; “and I suppose he finds that the water has gone down? He can see the tops of the mountains now—can’t he?”

“The _whole_ of the mountains, I should think!” returned Master Gyseburn, laughing. “Listen! he’s going to speak.”

“Now forty days are fully gone (Noah began), Send a raven I will anon; If aught were earth, tree, or stone, Be dry in any place. And, if this fowl come not again, It is a sign, sooth to say, That dry it is, on hill and plain, And God hath done some grace.”

“Oh! he’s going to let out a _real_ raven!” said Margery joyfully. “What a big black thing! Look, how he’s clapping his wings!”

“There!—now he’s flown!” exclaimed Colin. “He’s gone right over the roofs of those houses opposite. See how the people are staring after him. _He’ll_ never come back again!”

“But the dove will!” declared Margery excitedly. “Noah’s going to let a dove fly now. He’s talking to him—see!”

“Thou wilt turn again to me, For of all fowls that may fly Thou art most meek and hend [kind],”

said Noah, as he threw the bird up into the air.

“It won’t be the _same_ bird that comes back—will it?” asked Colin, looking up at Master Gyseburn, who smiled again.