After eleven long hours on my feet, finally I am ushered through the door of Westminster Hall.
I am struck by two things: firstly, both the beauty and the size of this hall. Secondly, the silence that inhabits it. I’ve never visited here before and, since the queue is moving slowly, and we have to form lines to proceed, down the stairs, towards the coffin, I have ample time to look around me.
The first thing that catches my eye is the roof - made of oak, it is in a ‘hammer beam’ style. Decorative and Gothic, the way it it was designed allowed for the ceiling to be higher. (Later, reading up on the space’s history, I find out it is the largest mediaeval timber roof in northern Europe).
Image courtesy of Restoration and Renewal, Houses of Parliament
Westminster Hall dates back to 1097. It was built by King William II (the son of William the Conqueror) and has an extraordinary history; indeed, both Ann Boleyn and Guy Fawkes were tried within its walls. Today, it is the oldest remaining part of the Palace of Westminster - in fact, as decreed by the Magna Carta, this was where Judicial Courts met, up until the mid-19th century (when they moved to the present High Court of Justice site).
Above me is a stained glass window (I am at the St. Stephen’s Porch end of the hall) and the sun is streaming in and reflecting in its panels. It is extraordinarily beautiful.
You can hear a pin drop in the hall - literally - as a slow and steady procession of queuers descend the stairs. The Queen’s coffin, which has been placed atop a catafalque (raised platform) is in the hall’s centre and I have a bird’s eye view of those before me, passing before it. Four huge candles surround her and I see their wicks burning.
The coffin is surrounded by ‘bodyguards’ which include the Gentleman at Arms, the Royal Company of Archers and the Yeoman of the Guard. Their 24-hour vigil is broken into six shifts, with the guards rotating every 20 minutes.
Photo courtesy of Sky News
Along with so many others, I depend the stairs, then begin edging closer and closer to the catafalque. As I walk past one of the Yeoman (I am so close to him I could touch his face, I am struck both by the scarlet and gold of his livery and his black hat. He does not even blink as I stare at him and, for a second, I imagine he must be a waxwork. He holds a sword (sheathed) in his hand. I wonder to myself would he use it, if the need arose?
The coffin is draped in the Royal Standard (red, blue and yellow) and atop is a purple velvet cushion, on which the Imperial State Crown lies. It is simply dazzling (well, it should be, since it is made up of over 2,800 diamonds!) and the wreath of white roses and green foliage next offsets it beautifully.
Photo courtesy of Newschain
I linger in front of the coffin for a few seconds, and bow my head.
And then I must continue towards the exit, since so many more behind me are waiting.
It will only strike me later, back at home, soaking in a hot bath (every limb in my body aches) that in a world where we are obsessed with documenting everything, this was a moment in which there were no phones, no cameras, no mindless chatter.
Nothing but silence and reflection. It was, simply, a chance for each person to think, without extraneous noise, about the journey they had made today, and what it meant to them.
I was one of them.
And I’m so very glad I made the effort.