Westminster Tournament, in honour of the new little bride and bridegroom. It is to be set with these Scottish pearls and Egyptian emeralds.’ He sighed wistfully. ‘I would have designed a grander circlet if only she would have permitted it. But Jane gave strict instructions that I should make nothing for her that would in any way outshine the jewels to be worn by the Queen or any of Her Highness’s sisters.’
He replaced the coronet on the table and linked one of his arms through mine, giving it a little squeeze, well away by now on what was obviously his favourite hobby horse. ‘One of the finest examples of the goldsmith’s art that I have ever had the privilege of seeing was the wedding coronet of our own Princess Margaret, when she married the Duke of Burgundy ten years ago this summer. Alas, I had no hand in the fashioning of it – I only wish that I had – but it was put on display with other items of her dowry, including all her jewellery, in the Goldsmiths’ Hall in the weeks before her wedding. It was small and was meant to perch on the top of her head to show off that beautiful long, fair hair of hers. It was made of gold and decorated with enamelled white roses, rubies, emeralds and sapphires. In the front was a diamond cross and a huge pearl set in another white rose; and all along the lower edge, “C”s and “M”s were wrought in gold and linked by lovers’ knots. Oh, it was a splendid piece of work, Master Chapman, I can tell you! It made me proud of my calling and of my fellow goldsmiths who had made it.’
I encountered Christopher Babcary’s amused glance, and he winked at me.
‘I think the chapman wants to be off, Uncle. It’s wet and dark outside. He’s wanting the comforts of the Voyager, I reckon.’
‘Of course! Of course! My boy, you should have said. But beauty delights me.’
He led me towards the street door and the display booth, where the glitter of precious metal still enlivened the darkness. Soon everything would be taken inside and safely locked away for the night but, for the moment, the windows of the goldsmiths’ shops in West Cheap continued to sparkle like so many heavenly constellations.
As I was about to escape into the murk of the January evening, Master Babcary grabbed my arm and detained me yet again.
‘My father, you know,’ he said, his eyes glowing with excitement, ‘saw the crown brought to this country by King Richard’s first queen, Anne of Bohemia, at the end of the last century. He told me that it was the most exquisite thing he had ever laid eyes on in the whole of his life. He said it was six inches tall at its highest point, straight-sided and set with the most glorious array of jewels: scores of diamonds, rubies and sapphires and more than a hundred pearls.’ Master Babcary’s transports suddenly died away in a heavy sigh. The light left his eyes and his shoulders sagged. ‘It’s gone from these shores now, alas! It was given away by the usurper, Henry of Bolingbroke, as a part of his daughter’s dowry when he married her to Ludwig of Bavaria.’
‘Uncle!’ Christopher Babcary had come to stand beside us and slipped an affectionate arm around the older man’s shoulders. ‘Master Chapman needs to be off, and we have to start packing up for the night. Besides, it’s suppertime and I’m ravenous. My stomach is positively rumbling with all those delicious cooking smells wafting in from the kitchen.’
My host was contrite. ‘You must forgive me, lad. My family have heard all my tales so often that they derive no pleasure from hearing them any more, so a stranger is a godsend to me. Well, well! We shall see you again on Monday then.’ He shook my hand vigorously and swung round on his heel, immediately berating the unfortunate apprentice for some sin of omission or commission, I wasn’t sure which.
Christopher Babcary grinned as he opened the outer door. ‘You musn’t mind Uncle Miles,’ he apologised quietly. ‘His enthusiasm
He replaced the coronet on the table and linked one of his arms through mine, giving it a little squeeze, well away by now on what was obviously his favourite hobby horse. ‘One of the finest examples of the goldsmith’s art that I have ever had the privilege of seeing was the wedding coronet of our own Princess Margaret, when she married the Duke of Burgundy ten years ago this summer. Alas, I had no hand in the fashioning of it – I only wish that I had – but it was put on display with other items of her dowry, including all her jewellery, in the Goldsmiths’ Hall in the weeks before her wedding. It was small and was meant to perch on the top of her head to show off that beautiful long, fair hair of hers. It was made of gold and decorated with enamelled white roses, rubies, emeralds and sapphires. In the front was a diamond cross and a huge pearl set in another white rose; and all along the lower edge, “C”s and “M”s were wrought in gold and linked by lovers’ knots. Oh, it was a splendid piece of work, Master Chapman, I can tell you! It made me proud of my calling and of my fellow goldsmiths who had made it.’
I encountered Christopher Babcary’s amused glance, and he winked at me.
‘I think the chapman wants to be off, Uncle. It’s wet and dark outside. He’s wanting the comforts of the Voyager, I reckon.’
‘Of course! Of course! My boy, you should have said. But beauty delights me.’
He led me towards the street door and the display booth, where the glitter of precious metal still enlivened the darkness. Soon everything would be taken inside and safely locked away for the night but, for the moment, the windows of the goldsmiths’ shops in West Cheap continued to sparkle like so many heavenly constellations.
As I was about to escape into the murk of the January evening, Master Babcary grabbed my arm and detained me yet again.
‘My father, you know,’ he said, his eyes glowing with excitement, ‘saw the crown brought to this country by King Richard’s first queen, Anne of Bohemia, at the end of the last century. He told me that it was the most exquisite thing he had ever laid eyes on in the whole of his life. He said it was six inches tall at its highest point, straight-sided and set with the most glorious array of jewels: scores of diamonds, rubies and sapphires and more than a hundred pearls.’ Master Babcary’s transports suddenly died away in a heavy sigh. The light left his eyes and his shoulders sagged. ‘It’s gone from these shores now, alas! It was given away by the usurper, Henry of Bolingbroke, as a part of his daughter’s dowry when he married her to Ludwig of Bavaria.’
‘Uncle!’ Christopher Babcary had come to stand beside us and slipped an affectionate arm around the older man’s shoulders. ‘Master Chapman needs to be off, and we have to start packing up for the night. Besides, it’s suppertime and I’m ravenous. My stomach is positively rumbling with all those delicious cooking smells wafting in from the kitchen.’
My host was contrite. ‘You must forgive me, lad. My family have heard all my tales so often that they derive no pleasure from hearing them any more, so a stranger is a godsend to me. Well, well! We shall see you again on Monday then.’ He shook my hand vigorously and swung round on his heel, immediately berating the unfortunate apprentice for some sin of omission or commission, I wasn’t sure which.
Christopher Babcary grinned as he opened the outer door. ‘You musn’t mind Uncle Miles,’ he apologised quietly. ‘His enthusiasm
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