Over the fireplace were the
coats-of-arms of a number of houses allied by blood or by marriage
to the Lorings. The two cresset-lights which flared upon each
side gleamed upon the blue lion of the Percies, the red birds of
de Valence, the black engrailed cross of de Mohun, the silver star
of de Vere, and the ruddy bars of FitzAlan, all grouped round the
famous red roses on the silver shield which the Lorings had borne
to glory upon many a bloody field. Then from side to side the
room was spanned by heavy oaken beams from which a great number of
objects were hanging. There were mail-shirts of obsolete pattern,
several shields, one or two rusted and battered helmets,
bowstaves, lances, otter-spears, harness, fishing-rods, and other
implements of war or of the chase, while higher still amid the
black shadows of the peaked roof could be seen rows of hams,
flitches of bacon, salted geese, and those other forms of
preserved meat which played so great a part in the housekeeping of
the Middle Ages.
Dame Ermyntrude Loring, daughter, wife, and mother of warriors,
was herself a formidable figure. Tall and gaunt, with hard craggy
features and intolerant dark eyes, even her snow-white hair and
stooping back could not entirely remove the sense of fear which
she inspired in those around her. Her thoughts and memories went
back to harsher times, and she looked upon the England around her
as a degenerate and effeminate land which had fallen away from the
old standard of knightly courtesy and valor.
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