The
Order of Ceremonial Things
It was the usual big ceremony on the Queen’s
Birthday, the day when honors were given out, and knighthoods bestowed.
Several hundred friends and relatives gathered in the great hall to watch the
ancient ritual.
Men and women to be given their various honors
wore their best attire, some renting dress suits and elegant dresses. There were, as to be expected, long-serving
civil servants, secretaries and undersecretaries from many ministries, police
and fire commissioners, hospital administrators, heads of large corporations,
athletes who had won major awards at the Olympics and other prestigious events,
film and television celebrities who had garnered millions of pounds from their
success, and then, not to be missed out, a few real heroes who had rescued
victims from burning cars, lifeguards who risked their own lives to swim
against the rips to bring back exhausted swimmers, devoted housewives that used
their skills and knowledge to sew garments for the dispossessed of foreign
disasters, and so on and so forth. The
very noblest a modern nation could produce.
They were all there, dressed to the nines, some
standing proudly at attention, others unused to attention shuffling nervously
and waiting for what would happen, and a few almost falling asleep from the
boredom of an ancient ritual.
Suddenly, the trumpets blared, the kettledrums
rolled, and the monarch entered the hall.
Soldiers and ushers stood up, everyone put down what they were
holding—umbrellas, newspapers, programmes—and anxiously waiting for the
formalities to begin.
A gentleman in a morning coat and tails stepped
up to the platform wear Her Majesty was seated and began to call the recipients
forward, and each would walk a few paces, kneel on the steps, bow his or her
head, and allow the queen to congratulate them and give the proper medal,
scroll or ribbon. Each honoree went
through the ceremonial gestures of obeissance, removed their head coverings,
bowed or curtsied before the monarch, and then slowly backed away, turned to
the audience, replaced their hats, and accepted the applause of the audience.
“Sir Abercrombie George Langton Fitz-Williams
III, for service to animal husbandry, the membership in the Queen’s Royal
Guard.”
The crowd politely clapped their hands as the
medal was handed over.
“Geoffrey Henry Laudine Cornwallis, for
services to sporting history, Honourary Esquire, Third Rank.”
More clapping of hands.
“Mrs. Georgina Penny Longbottom, for services
to Knitting and Needle Crafts, Dame Companion of the Order of Merit, Second
Class.”
The monarch said softly “Congratulations” and
handed over a satin pin-cushion.
This went on for a half hour, and then began
the knighthoods and dameships.
“Master Timothy Scragg, Esquire, for an act of
selfless bravery in the service of the nation, Queen’s Order of Lionhearted
Merit, Second Class.”
Young Timothy, dressed in a brand new suit and
with a silk tie given to him by his mother, stepped forward, knelt, and the
Queen tapped him on either shoulder with the royal sword, and handed over a
small box with a golden medal inside.
“Miss Eleanora Hortensia Gladdings, for service
above and beyond the call of duty under fire in Afghanistan, Dame of the
Queen’s Equerry.”
Wearing her dress uniform of the Thirteenth
Scottish Cavalry and with a tartan scarf over her shoulders, Dame Eleabora
walked up to the platform, curtsied before the throne, and received the
monarch’s words of thanks and a service ribbon with three gold stars.
“Bishop Phillip MacDougal, Bassington
Cathedral, for services to the Church, Companion Knight of the Realm.”
The priest stepped up, removed his mitre, knelt
before the throne, and received three ceremonial strokes from the royal sword.
The queen said, “Congratulations and God bless you.”
Then the Usher intoned:
“Rabbi Israel Moses Goldfaden, President of the
Wiltshire League of Talmudic Scholars and President of the Commonwealth United
Synagogues, for services to his people and the nation Round Table Knighthood,
First Class and two blue ribbons.”
Rabbi Moses, though wearing his best suit and
well-polished shoes, still wore his kippa and did not bend his knee. As he stepped foreward to the steps, he
smiled through his big white bushy beard and said, “A wonderful thanks, my dear
lady Queen for this great honor, and let me tell you the food was wonderful out
in the reception room before we came here.
I hope you had a chance to have a taste.”
The monarch turned to the Gentleman Usher,
called him over, and whispered in his ear:
“Why is this knight different from all other
knights?”
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