London - Edward Rutherfurd [281]
It was natural that the heralds should recognize the proud men who, even now, still referred to themselves as the barons of London. A mayor or alderman of London was entitled to a coat of arms. Bull had one from his father. An officer of one of the great guilds would merit consideration. When, therefore, the Earl Marshal stared at Geoffrey, he was not outraged, but only surprised.
“You are rather young for such a dignity,” he reasonably pointed out. “But then,” he added, “you are young to have become an officer of the Grocers Guild and a ward counsellor. How did you do it?”
Though he did not mention all his activities with Whittington, Ducket did explain that he had married Bull’s daughter, and advanced because of it. He also admitted his own humble birth. “I suppose I shouldn’t have come,” he said.
“Though your humble birth is against you,” the herald told him, “it is not a bar to your achieving arms. We are more interested in the dignity you have attained. One thing, however,” he continued, “is not clear to me. Are you seeking permission to use the arms of your wife’s family or to establish a new coat of arms of your own?”
“I want to return to using my own name, sir,” he said. “I want a coat of arms for the family of Ducket.” For here was the heart of the matter. Once he had that, not even Bull could take his name away.
The herald looked at him and pondered. The august surroundings of Coldharbour generally produced, even in the proudest merchants, a certain discomfort. He could guess the courage it must have taken Ducket to walk through the door. The young fellow was not, so far as he could see, some cocky little upstart. He seemed to possess humility. Yet one puzzle remained. “Forgive my asking you,” he gently enquired, “but how on earth did you manage to marry the daughter of a rich merchant like Bull?”
So Ducket told him, while the herald stared.
“You dived into the Thames under London Bridge, when it was in full spate?” he queried. “These things can be checked, you know,” he softly warned.
“Yes sir,” the young man replied.
And now the Earl Marshal of England burst into laughter.
“That’s the most splendid thing I’ve heard in years.” And with a smile of approval: “Well, Counsellor Ducket, you certainly seem determined to behave like one of the Knights of the Round Table. We shall have to see what we can do. Go with my clerk now,” he ordered, “and he will explain.”
A few minutes later he found himself in a long, busy room with a work table down the middle, half like a monastic library, half like a sign-painter’s workshop. “Now good Master Ducket,” the clerk began, “you shall see the wonderful mystery of heraldry.”
“First,” the clerk explained, “your arms will have a background colour. Except,” he smiled, “that in heraldry we do not say colour, we say ‘Tincture’.” He pronounced the word in a French manner. “The chief Tinctures are blue, which we call Azure; green, which is Vert; red, Gules; black, Sable; purple, Purpure. There are two metallic tinctures: gold, which is Or, and silver, Argent. We also depict certain furs, the most liked being Ermine.
“This background we call the Field. You can partition the Field with lines – divide it into two halves of four quarters. You can make a chequerboard of it or have bands running across it, which we call bars. Whatever else you add upon it is called a charge. You can have a cross, for instance, or swords, axes, arrows, horseshoes, knots, harps. Here’s a knight who’s chosen a battering ram. Or you can have trees, flowers, stars.”
“What about animals?” Ducket asked.
“Ah,” the clerk beamed. “Yes indeed.” And turning over some great sheets of parchment: “These,” he said contentedly, “are only a few.” Ducket gasped. It was astonishing. There were depictions of lions, leopards, bears, wolves, stags, hares, bulls, swans, eagles, dolphins, serpents. But not only that, each was shown in a variety of different attitudes: rising up on hindlegs (this