Abgeschickt von Andrea am 13 Oktober, 2000 um 11:07:45
Hallo, hier ist das Dunnett-Quiz vom Stuttgarter Treffen am 3.10.00; leider ist es sehr sehr lang...
Es geht um alle Arten von Klamotten in Dunnetts Niccolo-Serie. Wer hat was getragen (und wann)? Viel Spaß beim Raten, Knobeln, Nachlesen, Rumblättern...
Seated on his chair of state in a velvet side-gown and magnificent chain, below which his riding dress could be glimpsed, XXX stared down his long nose....
She was wearing,... a gown stiffened like leather, and her hair was locked into some sort of container.
Under previous monarchs, the Archers of the Royal Guard of France were handpicked for their looks, as well as for their skill and their courage. In array of the field, they resembled an army of Attic comeliness, with their plumes of red, white and green and their sleeveless three-coloured jackets covered with golden embroidery. XXX by contrast was an ugly man; short-necked and short-legged and burly under the plated jack which he removed with his helmet and cap. His hair was dark and thick as a bear's and the stubble darkened his jowls below a nose squashed in some arguments.
Alone, XXX sat in the centre, crosslegged upon round tasselled pillows, with a fan of white ostrich feathers moving slowly in one ringed, short-fingered hand. The bulbous white of his turban was not of the traditional shape, but had been added an osprey feather in a socket of emerald. His caftan, woven in Bursa, was a maze of stylized flowers: carnations, tulips and roses; and its only ornament was the line of intricate buttons that ran from its throat to its hem.
She wore a purple silk dress with its bodice lightly embroidered and her hair, threaded with laces and ribbons and pearls, was caught in intricate pleats round her head in the way he remembered ....
XXX had ostrich-plumes today in his helmet, and a fur collar which covered his quarter-ear, and rings on top of his gloves.
XXX was handsome. He stood before Tobie now: a short man with a large-eyed, beautiful face, and loosely waving black hair below the velvet brim of his hat. With swordsman's shoulders beneath the pleated silk doublet, showing the Holland shirt sewn with white silk at the throat, and archer's strong fingers playing with the intricate buttons which were jewels.
Among them was a priest, a tall broad youngish man in a stained hooded cloak of good quality...
... (she) felt depressed beside XXX, who possessed a clear Nordic face with plucked brows, and a pretty pink mouth, and white polished hands, and opulent shoulders half concealed by the round neck of her gown. She was given to hennins, perhaps because high veiled cones were less easy to shed than more approachable headgear. They were always bound with massive bands of great jewels, and she always looked as if her head ached.
Ellbowing his way through the respectful ranks of the crowd, XXX won to the rear, his fellows following, and pulled of and waved his beaver hat...
It was XXX, in miniature yellow taffeta and kersey hose...
Broad, and medium height, XXX was still taller than an Egyptian should be. Beneath his conical helmet with its burst of short feathers his face could hardly be judged: little showed between the tongues of his face-guard but the red of his lips and the glossy black of his untrimmed moustache. Below that the man wore a brigandine covered with bright brocade studded with metal.
For the newcomers, XXX changend into velvet, which was intended to give him a certain ascendancy over the five unkempt persons who were presently brought in to see him.
... she made small jokes about her size, since the swelling this time was everywhere, and she was hard put up to disguise it: wearing her robes extra long to hide the grotesque feet nd legs, and enfolding half her neck nd her chest in the drapes of her white linen headgear.
XXX wore what she had worn that morning, for lack of time to do anything else: a padded headdress which concealed all her hair, and a stiff little gown with neatly tied oversleeves and square neck to which she'd added a very fine pendant. ..
Seventy-two years of age and contorted with gout, XXX commanded the room like Judith seeking another Holofernes. Sallow, long-nosed and shrunken , he nursed his balding head beneath a swathed velvet hat, and dark glossy fur lined the robe he wore over his doublet....
XXX had acquired another ring. The stone was Oriental. It represented, no doubt, some sort of discount on the goods he had bought from the Flanders galley. XXX said, his eyebrows disappearing under his stylish arrangement of fringe, "He will be duly astonished. The last time I saw him downstaris he had a pair of shears under his arm, and an apron you could smell from the belltower."
XXX was quite as handsome as when he had last seen him in Bruges just a year ago....His hair below the velvet cap was leaf gold, his eyes blue, his lips curled in a sensitive smile. His doublet was of double-cut satin and velvet, intricately pleated, and he had follwoed the new Venetian fashion of parti-coloured hose. His legs could have been moulded for him by a classical sculptor. Perhaps they were, and his real legs were inside, which must make it hard to mount a horse.
XXX looked like the parrot: spare and quick, with a brilliant cap on her hair, which was the dead russet of henna. .. Below her eyes, she wore a thin cerise kerchief in the manner of Saracen women, its hem heavily jewelled. The kerchief hung straight from the bridge of her nose, and blew in and out with her breathing.
XXX admired his own beautiful hose. They were of knitted silk, with three pearls down each side... (The Florentine), too, was admiring the pearls. ... There was a silence, during XXX, smiling, studied the toe of his slipper.
There was no doubt who he was... A man of perhaps not more than fifty, but of so large a framework and so heavily fleshed that he topped his reed chair like a marrow. But an opulent marrow. His robe fell th the floor, lined with marten. his jowls sank into the layers of muslin, quilting and fur which lay on his solid shoulders. His hat, a double cartwheel infilled with drapery, had an enamelled crest set with gems on its underbrim. The same crest hung from the jewelled chain over his shoulders. ..
She wore her velvet gown, with pearls embroidered over the mildew, and led her dog. The Bailie was especially taken with it, even when it worried his gown-end.
Then behind, out of sight, he saw the girl. He knew her. The blaze of emotion stopped his throat so that he had to fight to stay where he was, against the push of the current. He saw the face, pale as a Venetian mask above the light robe, but the hair about was brown.
Instead of custom searchers and harbour officials, they had been boarded by Janissaries: silent, muscular men with white felt hats and an armoury of weapons, sharp and blunt, which they used. With them was a soft-spoken man called XXX, in a fur cloak over a long buttoned robe and a cap with a turban wound round it.
Today she wore a high-necked, narrow gown, that could have been either Venetian or Trapezuntine. Its cuffs, thick with fur, half covered her folded hands, corded with rings. Where before her hair had been covered, she now wore it folded beneath a little crown-veil stitched to a narrow, jewelled headband. Below it, silver earrings flashed with points of red, each brushed by the hair that spiralled, loose as gold wire, from her temples. The hair showed, too, bright as foil for an inch under the band...
After nine children, XXX was less than slender, but the long metalled tunic gave her body a sheath that became it. Above its high jewelled gorget, her face gleamed like enamel between the cascades of perals from her diadem. The hair gathered below it was dark, as were her eyes.
He brought out... his handsomest doublet, cut short to the waist in the French style; exposing silk-covered haunch and fine codpiece. For the silk, he had chosen his shapeliest hose in two colours, embroidered from knee to tigh with spiralling roses.
In fact, her hair was not the butter-yellow of Simon's but something nearer to the colour of oats, and her brows and lashes were brown. ... Nicolas thought he saw none the less a hint of the same jouster's freedom of carriage; and ran n assessing eye, before he could stop himself, over the black, high-seamed day gown of mourning which affirmed, clearly enough, the shape and proportion of the body beneath it. There, he had no need to guess, all XXX's real excellence lay.
Indeed, XXX turned out to be small; short would be the better description, Indeed, she was splendidly dressed in a gown of heavy silk in deep blue, whose volume and cost could only be guessed at. Its oversleeves, embroidered and gemmed, were of velvet, and jewels were bound into her hair and appeared to encircele her throat: Appeared, since her neck was so fat that its corbels concealed all that might lie in their creases. The same amplitude invested her clothes: the rounded bastion of the lower torso and the twin parapets of the bodice, with between them a nook-shaft fit for a putlog and hoarding. The oversleeves, falling back at he elbow, exposed silk-covered arms stout as balusters and wrists whose bachelets seemed pressed into place with a chinsing-iron. The face was round, the expression benign...
... and in the centre, upon a carpet, sat a single black figure of Oriental obesity encased - thick arms, rounded shoulders, immense thighs - in some twenty yards of flowered Florentine silk of the kind exported by the Medici in Burges at five to six ducats a Yard. On the King's head ws a crown of white ostrich feathers and his ears, arms, neck and ankles were hooped and studded and bangled with gold.
She sat between violets and peonies, roses and hollyhocks, willows and cypresses; and peacocks stood with hoopoes and doves at her shoulders. She was between sixty and seventy, and art still preserved much of her beauty.... and the silk that capped her hair and her brow also masked her throat and her schoulders. The veil was held in place by a fragile, leafed diadem, from which hung a face-necklage of great Ormuz perls.
The man XXX wore velvet which, tough dusty, was certainly jewelled, as was the drape of his headgear. Diniz observed, without fully looking, that the cut of his doublet was almost Venetian. Below a thick trunk, the calves of his legs jutted like oak galls.
...and XXX left in a trice, in his clogs and piss-spattered apron...