THE PRINCE AND THE PAUPER

by Mark Twain

Hugh Latimer, Bishop of Worcester, to Lord Cromwell, on the birth of thePrince of Wales (afterward Edward VI. ). 

From the National Manuscripts preserved by the British Government. 

Ryght honorable, Salutem in Christo Jesu, and Syr here ys no lesse joyngeand rejossynge in thes partees for the byrth of our prynce, hoom wehungurde for so longe, then ther was (I trow), inter vicinos att thebyrth of S. J. Baptyste, as thys berer, Master Erance, can telle you. Gode gyffe us alle grace, to yelde dew thankes to our Lorde Gode, Gode ofInglonde, for verely He hathe shoyd Hym selff Gode of Inglonde, or ratheran Inglyssh Gode, yf we consydyr and pondyr welle alle Hys procedyngeswith us from tyme to tyme. He hath over cumme alle our yllnesse with Hysexcedynge goodnesse, so that we are now moor then compellyd to serve Hym, seke Hys glory, promott Hys wurde, yf the Devylle of alle Devylles benatt in us. We have now the stooppe of vayne trustes ande the stey ofvayne expectations; lett us alle pray for hys preservatione. Ande I formy partt wylle wyssh that hys Grace allways have, and evyn now from thebegynynge, Governares, Instructores and offyceres of ryght jugmente, neoptimum ingenium non optima educatione deprevetur. 

Butt whatt a grett fowlle am I! So, whatt devotione shoyth many tymysbutt lytelle dyscretione! Ande thus the Gode of Inglonde be ever withyou in alle your procedynges. 

The 19 of October. 

Youres, H. L. B. Of Wurcestere, now att Hartlebury. 

Yf you wolde excytt thys berere to be moore hartye ayen the abuse ofymagry or mor forwarde to promotte the veryte, ytt myght doo goode. Nattthat ytt came of me, butt of your selffe, etc. 

(Addressed) To the Ryght Honorable Loorde P. Sealle hys synguler godeLorde. 

To those good-mannered and agreeable children Susie and Clara Clemensthis book is affectionately inscribed by their father. 

I will set down a tale as it was told to me by one who had it of hisfather, which latter had it of HIS father, this last having in likemanner had it of HIS father--and so on, back and still back, threehundred years and more, the fathers transmitting it to the sons and sopreserving it. It may be history, it may be only a legend, a tradition. It may have happened, it may not have happened: but it COULD havehappened. It may be that the wise and the learned believed it in the olddays; it may be that only the unlearned and the simple loved it andcredited it. 

Contents. 

I. The birth of the Prince and the Pauper. II. Tom's early life. III. Tom's meeting with the Prince. IV. The Prince's troubles begin. V. Tom as a patrician. VI. Tom receives instructions. VII. Tom's first royal dinner. VIII. The question of the Seal. IX. The river pageant. X. The Prince in the toils. XI. At Guildhall. XII. The Prince and his deliverer. XIII. The disappearance of the Prince. XIV. 'Le Roi est mort--vive le Roi. 'XV. Tom as King. XVI. The state dinner. XVII. Foo-foo the First. XVIII. The Prince with the tramps. XIX. The Prince with the peasants. XX. The Prince and the hermit. XXI. Hendon to the rescue. XXII. A victim of treachery. XXIII. The Prince a prisoner. XXIV. The escape. XXV. Hendon Hall. XXVI. Disowned. XXVII. In prison. XXVIII. The sacrifice. XXIX. To London. XXX. Tom's progress. XXXI. The Recognition procession. XXXII. Coronation Day. XXXIII. Edward as King. Conclusion. Justice and Retribution. Notes. 

 'The quality of mercy . . . Is twice bless'd; It blesseth him that gives, and him that takes; 'Tis mightiest in the mightiest: it becomes The thron-ed monarch better than his crown'. Merchant of Venice. 

Chapter I. The birth of the Prince and the Pauper. 

In the ancient city of London, on a certain autumn day in the secondquarter of the sixteenth century, a boy was born to a poor family of thename of Canty, who did not want him. On the same day another Englishchild was born to a rich family of the name of Tudor, who did want him. All England wanted him too. England had so longed for him, and hoped forhim, and prayed God for him, that, now that he was really come, thepeople went nearly mad for joy. Mere acquaintances hugged and kissedeach other and cried. Everybody took a holiday, and high and low, richand poor, feasted and danced and sang, and got very mellow; and they keptthis up for days and nights together. By day, London was a sight to see, with gay banners waving from every balcony and housetop, and splendidpageants marching along. By night, it was again a sight to see, with itsgreat bonfires at every corner, and its troops of revellers making merryaround them. There was no talk in all England but of the new baby, Edward Tudor, Prince of Wales, who lay lapped in silks and satins, unconscious of all this fuss, and not knowing that great lords and ladieswere tending him and watching over him--and not caring, either. Butthere was no talk about the other baby, Tom Canty, lapped in his poorrags, except among the family of paupers whom he had just come to troublewith his presence. 

Chapter II. Tom's early life. 

Let us skip a number of years. 

London was fifteen hundred years old, and was a great town--for that day. It had a hundred thousand inhabitants--some think double as many. Thestreets were very narrow, and crooked, and dirty, especially in the partwhere Tom Canty lived, which was not far from London Bridge. The houseswere of wood, with the second story projecting over the first, and thethird sticking its elbows out beyond the second. The higher the housesgrew, the broader they grew. They were skeletons of strong criss-crossbeams, with solid material between, coated with plaster. The beams werepainted red or blue or black, according to the owner's taste, and thisgave the houses a very picturesque look. The windows were small, glazedwith little diamond-shaped panes, and they opened outward, on hinges, like doors. 

The house which Tom's father lived in was up a foul little pocket calledOffal Court, out of Pudding Lane. It was small, decayed, and rickety, but it was packed full of wretchedly poor families. Canty's tribeoccupied a room on the third floor. The mother and father had a sort ofbedstead in the corner; but Tom, his grandmother, and his two sisters, Bet and Nan, were not restricted--they had all the floor to themselves, and might sleep where they chose. There were the remains of a blanket ortwo, and some bundles of ancient and dirty straw, but these could notrightly be called beds, for they were not organised; they were kickedinto a general pile, mornings, and selections made from the mass atnight, for service. 

Bet and Nan were fifteen years old--twins. They were good-hearted girls, unclean, clothed in rags, and profoundly ignorant. Their mother was likethem. But the father and the grandmother were a couple of fiends. Theygot drunk whenever they could; then they fought each other or anybodyelse who came in the way; they cursed and swore always, drunk or sober;John Canty was a thief, and his mother a beggar. They made beggars ofthe children, but failed to make thieves of them. Among, but not of, thedreadful rabble that inhabited the house, was a good old priest whom theKing had turned out of house and home with a pension of a few farthings, and he used to get the children aside and teach them right ways secretly. Father Andrew also taught Tom a little Latin, and how to read and write;and would have done the same with the girls, but they were afraid of thejeers of their friends, who could not have endured such a queeraccomplishment in them. 

All Offal Court was just such another hive as Canty's house. Drunkenness, riot and brawling were the order, there, every night and nearly all nightlong. Broken heads were as common as hunger in that place. Yet littleTom was not unhappy. He had a hard time of it, but did not know it. Itwas the sort of time that all the Offal Court boys had, therefore hesupposed it was the correct and comfortable thing. When he came homeempty-handed at night, he knew his father would curse him and thrash himfirst, and that when he was done the awful grandmother would do it allover again and improve on it; and that away in the night his starvingmother would slip to him stealthily with any miserable scrap or crust shehad been able to save for him by going hungry herself, notwithstandingshe was often caught in that sort of treason and soundly beaten for it byher husband. 

No, Tom's life went along well enough, especially in summer. He onlybegged just enough to save himself, for the laws against mendicancy werestringent, and the penalties heavy; so he put in a good deal of his timelistening to good Father Andrew's charming old tales and legends aboutgiants and fairies, dwarfs and genii, and enchanted castles, and gorgeouskings and princes. His head grew to be full of these wonderful things, and many a night as he lay in the dark on his scant and offensive straw, tired, hungry, and smarting from a thrashing, he unleashed hisimagination and soon forgot his aches and pains in delicious picturingsto himself of the charmed life of a petted prince in a regal palace. Onedesire came in time to haunt him day and night: it was to see a realprince, with his own eyes. He spoke of it once to some of his OffalCourt comrades; but they jeered him and scoffed him so unmercifully thathe was glad to keep his dream to himself after that. 

He often read the priest's old books and got him to explain and enlargeupon them. His dreamings and readings worked certain changes in him, by-and-by. His dream-people were so fine that he grew to lament his shabbyclothing and his dirt, and to wish to be clean and better clad. He wenton playing in the mud just the same, and enjoying it, too; but, insteadof splashing around in the Thames solely for the fun of it, he began tofind an added value in it because of the washings and cleansings itafforded. 

Tom could always find something going on around the Maypole in Cheapside, and at the fairs; and now and then he and the rest of London had a chanceto see a military parade when some famous unfortunate was carriedprisoner to the Tower, by land or boat. One summer's day he saw poor AnneAskew and three men burned at the stake in Smithfield, and heard anex-Bishop preach a sermon to them which did not interest him. Yes, Tom'slife was varied and pleasant enough, on the whole. 

By-and-by Tom's reading and dreaming about princely life wrought such astrong effect upon him that he began to ACT the prince, unconsciously. His speech and manners became curiously ceremonious and courtly, to thevast admiration and amusement of his intimates. But Tom's influenceamong these young people began to grow now, day by day; and in time hecame to be looked up to, by them, with a sort of wondering awe, as asuperior being. He seemed to know so much! and he could do and say suchmarvellous things! and withal, he was so deep and wise! Tom's remarks, and Tom's performances, were reported by the boys to their elders; andthese, also, presently began to discuss Tom Canty, and to regard him as amost gifted and extraordinary creature. Full-grown people brought theirperplexities to Tom for solution, and were often astonished at the witand wisdom of his decisions. In fact he was become a hero to all whoknew him except his own family--these, only, saw nothing in him. 

Privately, after a while, Tom organised a royal court! He was theprince; his special comrades were guards, chamberlains, equerries, lordsand ladies in waiting, and the royal family. Daily the mock prince wasreceived with elaborate ceremonials borrowed by Tom from his romanticreadings; daily the great affairs of the mimic kingdom were discussed inthe royal council, and daily his mimic highness issued decrees to hisimaginary armies, navies, and viceroyalties. 

After which, he would go forth in his rags and beg a few farthings, eathis poor crust, take his customary cuffs and abuse, and then stretchhimself upon his handful of foul straw, and resume his empty grandeurs inhis dreams. 

And still his desire to look just once upon a real prince, in the flesh, grew upon him, day by day, and week by week, until at last it absorbedall other desires, and became the one passion of his life. 

One January day, on his usual begging tour, he tramped despondently upand down the region round about Mincing Lane and Little East Cheap, hourafter hour, bare-footed and cold, looking in at cook-shop windows andlonging for the dreadful pork-pies and other deadly inventions displayedthere--for to him these were dainties fit for the angels; that is, judging by the smell, they were--for it had never been his good luck toown and eat one. There was a cold drizzle of rain; the atmosphere wasmurky; it was a melancholy day. At night Tom reached home so wet andtired and hungry that it was not possible for his father and grandmotherto observe his forlorn condition and not be moved--after their fashion;wherefore they gave him a brisk cuffing at once and sent him to bed. Fora long time his pain and hunger, and the swearing and fighting going onin the building, kept him awake; but at last his thoughts drifted away tofar, romantic lands, and he fell asleep in the company of jewelled andgilded princelings who live in vast palaces, and had servants salaamingbefore them or flying to execute their orders. And then, as usual, hedreamed that HE was a princeling himself. 

All night long the glories of his royal estate shone upon him; he movedamong great lords and ladies, in a blaze of light, breathing perfumes, drinking in delicious music, and answering the reverent obeisances of theglittering throng as it parted to make way for him, with here a smile, and there a nod of his princely head. 

And when he awoke in the morning and looked upon the wretchedness abouthim, his dream had had its usual effect--it had intensified thesordidness of his surroundings a thousandfold. Then came bitterness, andheart-break, and tears. 

Chapter III. Tom's meeting with the Prince. 

Tom got up hungry, and sauntered hungry away, but with his thoughts busywith the shadowy splendours of his night's dreams. He wandered here andthere in the city, hardly noticing where he was going, or what washappening around him. People jostled him, and some gave him roughspeech; but it was all lost on the musing boy. By-and-by he foundhimself at Temple Bar, the farthest from home he had ever travelled inthat direction. He stopped and considered a moment, then fell into hisimaginings again, and passed on outside the walls of London. The Strandhad ceased to be a country-road then, and regarded itself as a street, but by a strained construction; for, though there was a tolerably compactrow of houses on one side of it, there were only some scattered greatbuildings on the other, these being palaces of rich nobles, with ampleand beautiful grounds stretching to the river--grounds that are nowclosely packed with grim acres of brick and stone. 

Tom discovered Charing Village presently, and rested himself at thebeautiful cross built there by a bereaved king of earlier days; thenidled down a quiet, lovely road, past the great cardinal's statelypalace, toward a far more mighty and majestic palace beyond--Westminster. Tom stared in glad wonder at the vast pile of masonry, the wide-spreadingwings, the frowning bastions and turrets, the huge stone gateway, withits gilded bars and its magnificent array of colossal granite lions, andother the signs and symbols of English royalty. Was the desire of hissoul to be satisfied at last? Here, indeed, was a king's palace. Mighthe not hope to see a prince now--a prince of flesh and blood, if Heavenwere willing?

At each side of the gilded gate stood a living statue--that is to say, anerect and stately and motionless man-at-arms, clad from head to heel inshining steel armour. At a respectful distance were many country folk, and people from the city, waiting for any chance glimpse of royalty thatmight offer. Splendid carriages, with splendid people in them andsplendid servants outside, were arriving and departing by several othernoble gateways that pierced the royal enclosure. 

Poor little Tom, in his rags, approached, and was moving slowly andtimidly past the sentinels, with a beating heart and a rising hope, whenall at once he caught sight through the golden bars of a spectacle thatalmost made him shout for joy. Within was a comely boy, tanned and brownwith sturdy outdoor sports and exercises, whose clothing was all oflovely silks and satins, shining with jewels; at his hip a littlejewelled sword and dagger; dainty buskins on his feet, with red heels;and on his head a jaunty crimson cap, with drooping plumes fastened witha great sparkling gem. Several gorgeous gentlemen stood near--hisservants, without a doubt. Oh! he was a prince--a prince, a livingprince, a real prince--without the shadow of a question; and the prayerof the pauper-boy's heart was answered at last. 

Tom's breath came quick and short with excitement, and his eyes grew bigwith wonder and delight. Everything gave way in his mind instantly toone desire: that was to get close to the prince, and have a good, devouring look at him. Before he knew what he was about, he had his faceagainst the gate-bars. The next instant one of the soldiers snatched himrudely away, and sent him spinning among the gaping crowd of countrygawks and London idlers. The soldier said, --

"Mind thy manners, thou young beggar!"

The crowd jeered and laughed; but the young prince sprang to the gatewith his face flushed, and his eyes flashing with indignation, and criedout, --

"How dar'st thou use a poor lad like that? How dar'st thou use the Kingmy father's meanest subject so? Open the gates, and let him in!"

You should have seen that fickle crowd snatch off their hats then. Youshould have heard them cheer, and shout, "Long live the Prince of Wales!"

The soldiers presented arms with their halberds, opened the gates, andpresented again as the little Prince of Poverty passed in, in hisfluttering rags, to join hands with the Prince of Limitless Plenty. 

Edward Tudor said--

"Thou lookest tired and hungry: thou'st been treated ill. Come withme. "

Half a dozen attendants sprang forward to--I don't know what; interfere, no doubt. But they were waved aside with a right royal gesture, and theystopped stock still where they were, like so many statues. Edward tookTom to a rich apartment in the palace, which he called his cabinet. Byhis command a repast was brought such as Tom had never encountered beforeexcept in books. The prince, with princely delicacy and breeding, sentaway the servants, so that his humble guest might not be embarrassed bytheir critical presence; then he sat near by, and asked questions whileTom ate. 

"What is thy name, lad?"

"Tom Canty, an' it please thee, sir. "

"'Tis an odd one. Where dost live?"

"In the city, please thee, sir. Offal Court, out of Pudding Lane. "

"Offal Court! Truly 'tis another odd one. Hast parents?"

"Parents have I, sir, and a grand-dam likewise that is but indifferentlyprecious to me, God forgive me if it be offence to say it--also twinsisters, Nan and Bet. "

"Then is thy grand-dam not over kind to thee, I take it?"

"Neither to any other is she, so please your worship. She hath a wickedheart, and worketh evil all her days. "

"Doth she mistreat thee?"

"There be times that she stayeth her hand, being asleep or overcome withdrink; but when she hath her judgment clear again, she maketh it up to mewith goodly beatings. "

A fierce look came into the little prince's eyes, and he cried out--

"What! Beatings?"

"Oh, indeed, yes, please you, sir. "

"BEATINGS!--and thou so frail and little. Hark ye: before the nightcome, she shall hie her to the Tower. The King my father"--

"In sooth, you forget, sir, her low degree. The Tower is for the greatalone. "

"True, indeed. I had not thought of that. I will consider of herpunishment. Is thy father kind to thee?"

"Not more than Gammer Canty, sir. "

"Fathers be alike, mayhap. Mine hath not a doll's temper. He smitethwith a heavy hand, yet spareth me: he spareth me not always with histongue, though, sooth to say. How doth thy mother use thee?"

"She is good, sir, and giveth me neither sorrow nor pain of any sort. And Nan and Bet are like to her in this. "

"How old be these?"

"Fifteen, an' it please you, sir. "

"The Lady Elizabeth, my sister, is fourteen, and the Lady Jane Grey, mycousin, is of mine own age, and comely and gracious withal; but my sisterthe Lady Mary, with her gloomy mien and--Look you: do thy sisters forbidtheir servants to smile, lest the sin destroy their souls?"

"They? Oh, dost think, sir, that THEY have servants?"

The little prince contemplated the little pauper gravely a moment, thensaid--

"And prithee, why not? Who helpeth them undress at night? Who attireththem when they rise?"

"None, sir. Would'st have them take off their garment, and sleepwithout--like the beasts?"

"Their garment! Have they but one?"

"Ah, good your worship, what would they do with more? Truly they havenot two bodies each. "

"It is a quaint and marvellous thought! Thy pardon, I had not meant tolaugh. But thy good Nan and thy Bet shall have raiment and lackeys enow, and that soon, too: my cofferer shall look to it. No, thank me not;'tis nothing. Thou speakest well; thou hast an easy grace in it. Artlearned?"

"I know not if I am or not, sir. The good priest that is called FatherAndrew taught me, of his kindness, from his books. "

"Know'st thou the Latin?"

"But scantly, sir, I doubt. "

"Learn it, lad: 'tis hard only at first. The Greek is harder; butneither these nor any tongues else, I think, are hard to the LadyElizabeth and my cousin. Thou should'st hear those damsels at it! Buttell me of thy Offal Court. Hast thou a pleasant life there?"

"In truth, yes, so please you, sir, save when one is hungry. There bePunch-and-Judy shows, and monkeys--oh such antic creatures! and sobravely dressed!--and there be plays wherein they that play do shout andfight till all are slain, and 'tis so fine to see, and costeth but afarthing--albeit 'tis main hard to get the farthing, please yourworship. "

"Tell me more. "

"We lads of Offal Court do strive against each other with the cudgel, like to the fashion of the 'prentices, sometimes. "

The prince's eyes flashed. Said he--

"Marry, that would not I mislike. Tell me more. "

"We strive in races, sir, to see who of us shall be fleetest. "

"That would I like also. Speak on. "

"In summer, sir, we wade and swim in the canals and in the river, andeach doth duck his neighbour, and splatter him with water, and dive andshout and tumble and--"

"'Twould be worth my father's kingdom but to enjoy it once! Prithee goon. "

"We dance and sing about the Maypole in Cheapside; we play in the sand, each covering his neighbour up; and times we make mud pastry--oh thelovely mud, it hath not its like for delightfulness in all the world!--wedo fairly wallow in the mud, sir, saving your worship's presence. "

"Oh, prithee, say no more, 'tis glorious! If that I could but clothe mein raiment like to thine, and strip my feet, and revel in the mud once, just once, with none to rebuke me or forbid, meseemeth I could forego thecrown!"

"And if that I could clothe me once, sweet sir, as thou art clad--justonce--"

"Oho, would'st like it? Then so shall it be. Doff thy rags, and donthese splendours, lad! It is a brief happiness, but will be not lesskeen for that. We will have it while we may, and change again before anycome to molest. "

A few minutes later the little Prince of Wales was garlanded with Tom'sfluttering odds and ends, and the little Prince of Pauperdom was trickedout in the gaudy plumage of royalty. The two went and stood side by sidebefore a great mirror, and lo, a miracle: there did not seem to have beenany change made! They stared at each other, then at the glass, then ateach other again. At last the puzzled princeling said--

"What dost thou make of this?"

"Ah, good your worship, require me not to answer. It is not meet thatone of my degree should utter the thing. "

"Then will _I_ utter it. Thou hast the same hair, the same eyes, thesame voice and manner, the same form and stature, the same face andcountenance that I bear. Fared we forth naked, there is none could saywhich was you, and which the Prince of Wales. And, now that I am clothedas thou wert clothed, it seemeth I should be able the more nearly to feelas thou didst when the brute soldier--Hark ye, is not this a bruise uponyour hand?"

"Yes; but it is a slight thing, and your worship knoweth that the poorman-at-arms--"

"Peace! It was a shameful thing and a cruel!" cried the little prince, stamping his bare foot. "If the King--Stir not a step till I come again!It is a command!"

In a moment he had snatched up and put away an article of nationalimportance that lay upon a table, and was out at the door and flyingthrough the palace grounds in his bannered rags, with a hot face andglowing eyes. As soon as he reached the great gate, he seized the bars, and tried to shake them, shouting--

"Open! Unbar the gates!"

The soldier that had maltreated Tom obeyed promptly; and as the princeburst through the portal, half-smothered with royal wrath, the soldierfetched him a sounding box on the ear that sent him whirling to theroadway, and said--

"Take that, thou beggar's spawn, for what thou got'st me from hisHighness!"

The crowd roared with laughter. The prince picked himself out of themud, and made fiercely at the sentry, shouting--

"I am the Prince of Wales, my person is sacred; and thou shalt hang forlaying thy hand upon me!"

The soldier brought his halberd to a present-arms and said mockingly--

"I salute your gracious Highness. " Then angrily--"Be off, thou crazyrubbish!"

Here the jeering crowd closed round the poor little prince, and hustledhim far down the road, hooting him, and shouting--

"Way for his Royal Highness! Way for the Prince of Wales!"

Chapter IV. The Prince's troubles begin. 

After hours of persistent pursuit and persecution, the little prince wasat last deserted by the rabble and left to himself. As long as he hadbeen able to rage against the mob, and threaten it royally, and royallyutter commands that were good stuff to laugh at, he was veryentertaining; but when weariness finally forced him to be silent, he wasno longer of use to his tormentors, and they sought amusement elsewhere. He looked about him, now, but could not recognise the locality. He waswithin the city of London--that was all he knew. He moved on, aimlessly, and in a little while the houses thinned, and the passers-by wereinfrequent. He bathed his bleeding feet in the brook which flowed thenwhere Farringdon Street now is; rested a few moments, then passed on, andpresently came upon a great space with only a few scattered houses in it, and a prodigious church. He recognised this church. Scaffoldings wereabout, everywhere, and swarms of workmen; for it was undergoing elaboraterepairs. The prince took heart at once--he felt that his troubles wereat an end, now. He said to himself, "It is the ancient Grey Friars'Church, which the king my father hath taken from the monks and given fora home for ever for poor and forsaken children, and new-named it Christ'sChurch. Right gladly will they serve the son of him who hath done sogenerously by them--and the more that that son is himself as poor and asforlorn as any that be sheltered here this day, or ever shall be. "

He was soon in the midst of a crowd of boys who were running, jumping, playing at ball and leap-frog, and otherwise disporting themselves, andright noisily, too. They were all dressed alike, and in the fashionwhich in that day prevailed among serving-men and 'prentices{1}--that isto say, each had on the crown of his head a flat black cap about the sizeof a saucer, which was not useful as a covering, it being of such scantydimensions, neither was it ornamental; from beneath it the hair fell, unparted, to the middle of the forehead, and was cropped straight around;a clerical band at the neck; a blue gown that fitted closely and hung aslow as the knees or lower; full sleeves; a broad red belt; bright yellowstockings, gartered above the knees; low shoes with large metal buckles. It was a sufficiently ugly costume. 

The boys stopped their play and flocked about the prince, who said withnative dignity--

"Good lads, say to your master that Edward Prince of Wales desirethspeech with him. "

A great shout went up at this, and one rude fellow said--

"Marry, art thou his grace's messenger, beggar?"

The prince's face flushed with anger, and his ready hand flew to his hip, but there was nothing there. There was a storm of laughter, and one boysaid--

"Didst mark that? He fancied he had a sword--belike he is the princehimself. "

This sally brought more laughter. Poor Edward drew himself up proudlyand said--

"I am the prince; and it ill beseemeth you that feed upon the king myfather's bounty to use me so. "

This was vastly enjoyed, as the laughter testified. The youth who hadfirst spoken, shouted to his comrades--

"Ho, swine, slaves, pensioners of his grace's princely father, where beyour manners? Down on your marrow bones, all of ye, and do reverence tohis kingly port and royal rags!"

With boisterous mirth they dropped upon their knees in a body and didmock homage to their prey. The prince spurned the nearest boy with hisfoot, and said fiercely--

"Take thou that, till the morrow come and I build thee a gibbet!"

Ah, but this was not a joke--this was going beyond fun. The laughterceased on the instant, and fury took its place. A dozen shouted--

"Hale him forth! To the horse-pond, to the horse-pond! Where be thedogs? Ho, there, Lion! ho, Fangs!"

Then followed such a thing as England had never seen before--the sacredperson of the heir to the throne rudely buffeted by plebeian hands, andset upon and torn by dogs. 

As night drew to a close that day, the prince found himself far down inthe close-built portion of the city. His body was bruised, his handswere bleeding, and his rags were all besmirched with mud. He wandered onand on, and grew more and more bewildered, and so tired and faint hecould hardly drag one foot after the other. He had ceased to askquestions of anyone, since they brought him only insult instead ofinformation. He kept muttering to himself, "Offal Court--that is thename; if I can but find it before my strength is wholly spent and I drop, then am I saved--for his people will take me to the palace and prove thatI am none of theirs, but the true prince, and I shall have mine ownagain. " And now and then his mind reverted to his treatment by thoserude Christ's Hospital boys, and he said, "When I am king, they shall nothave bread and shelter only, but also teachings out of books; for a fullbelly is little worth where the mind is starved, and the heart. I willkeep this diligently in my remembrance, that this day's lesson be notlost upon me, and my people suffer thereby; for learning softeneth theheart and breedeth gentleness and charity. " {1}

The lights began to twinkle, it came on to rain, the wind rose, and a rawand gusty night set in. The houseless prince, the homeless heir to thethrone of England, still moved on, drifting deeper into the maze ofsqualid alleys where the swarming hives of poverty and misery were massedtogether. 

Suddenly a great drunken ruffian collared him and said--

"Out to this time of night again, and hast not brought a farthing home, Iwarrant me! If it be so, an' I do not break all the bones in thy leanbody, then am I not John Canty, but some other. "

The prince twisted himself loose, unconsciously brushed his profanedshoulder, and eagerly said--

"Oh, art HIS father, truly? Sweet heaven grant it be so--then wilt thoufetch him away and restore me!"

"HIS father? I know not what thou mean'st; I but know I am THY father, as thou shalt soon have cause to--"

"Oh, jest not, palter not, delay not!--I am worn, I am wounded, I canbear no more. Take me to the king my father, and he will make thee richbeyond thy wildest dreams. Believe me, man, believe me!--I speak no lie, but only the truth!--put forth thy hand and save me! I am indeed thePrince of Wales!"

The man stared down, stupefied, upon the lad, then shook his head andmuttered--

"Gone stark mad as any Tom o' Bedlam!"--then collared him once more, andsaid with a coarse laugh and an oath, "But mad or no mad, I and thyGammer Canty will soon find where the soft places in thy bones lie, orI'm no true man!"

With this he dragged the frantic and struggling prince away, anddisappeared up a front court followed by a delighted and noisy swarm ofhuman vermin. 

Chapter V. Tom as a patrician. 

Tom Canty, left alone in the prince's cabinet, made good use of hisopportunity. He turned himself this way and that before the greatmirror, admiring his finery; then walked away, imitating the prince'shigh-bred carriage, and still observing results in the glass. Next hedrew the beautiful sword, and bowed, kissing the blade, and laying itacross his breast, as he had seen a noble knight do, by way of salute tothe lieutenant of the Tower, five or six weeks before, when deliveringthe great lords of Norfolk and Surrey into his hands for captivity. Tomplayed with the jewelled dagger that hung upon his thigh; he examined thecostly and exquisite ornaments of the room; he tried each of thesumptuous chairs, and thought how proud he would be if the Offal Courtherd could only peep in and see him in his grandeur. He wondered if theywould believe the marvellous tale he should tell when he got home, or ifthey would shake their heads, and say his overtaxed imagination had atlast upset his reason. 

At the end of half an hour it suddenly occurred to him that the princewas gone a long time; then right away he began to feel lonely; very soonhe fell to listening and longing, and ceased to toy with the prettythings about him; he grew uneasy, then restless, then distressed. Suppose some one should come, and catch him in the prince's clothes, andthe prince not there to explain. Might they not hang him at once, andinquire into his case afterward? He had heard that the great were promptabout small matters. His fear rose higher and higher; and trembling hesoftly opened the door to the antechamber, resolved to fly and seek theprince, and, through him, protection and release. Six gorgeousgentlemen-servants and two young pages of high degree, clothed likebutterflies, sprang to their feet and bowed low before him. He steppedquickly back and shut the door. He said--

"Oh, they mock at me! They will go and tell. Oh! why came I here tocast away my life?"

He walked up and down the floor, filled with nameless fears, listening, starting at every trifling sound. Presently the door swung open, and asilken page said--

"The Lady Jane Grey. "

The door closed and a sweet young girl, richly clad, bounded toward him. But she stopped suddenly, and said in a distressed voice--

"Oh, what aileth thee, my lord?"

Tom's breath was nearly failing him; but he made shift to stammer out--

"Ah, be merciful, thou! In sooth I am no lord, but only poor Tom Cantyof Offal Court in the city. Prithee let me see the prince, and he willof his grace restore to me my rags, and let me hence unhurt. Oh, be thoumerciful, and save me!"

By this time the boy was on his knees, and supplicating with his eyes anduplifted hands as well as with his tongue. The young girl seemedhorror-stricken. She cried out--

"O my lord, on thy knees?--and to ME!"

Then she fled away in fright; and Tom, smitten with despair, sank down, murmuring--

"There is no help, there is no hope. Now will they come and take me. "

Whilst he lay there benumbed with terror, dreadful tidings were speedingthrough the palace. The whisper--for it was whispered always--flew frommenial to menial, from lord to lady, down all the long corridors, fromstory to story, from saloon to saloon, "The prince hath gone mad, theprince hath gone mad!" Soon every saloon, every marble hall, had itsgroups of glittering lords and ladies, and other groups of dazzlinglesser folk, talking earnestly together in whispers, and every face hadin it dismay. Presently a splendid official came marching by thesegroups, making solemn proclamation--

"IN THE NAME OF THE KING!

Let none list to this false and foolish matter, upon pain of death, nordiscuss the same, nor carry it abroad. In the name of the King!"

The whisperings ceased as suddenly as if the whisperers had been strickendumb. 

Soon there was a general buzz along the corridors, of "The prince! See, the prince comes!"

Poor Tom came slowly walking past the low-bowing groups, trying to bow inreturn, and meekly gazing upon his strange surroundings with bewilderedand pathetic eyes. Great nobles walked upon each side of him, making himlean upon them, and so steady his steps. Behind him followed thecourt-physicians and some servants. 

Presently Tom found himself in a noble apartment of the palace and heardthe door close behind him. Around him stood those who had come with him. Before him, at a little distance, reclined a very large and very fat man, with a wide, pulpy face, and a stern expression. His large head was verygrey; and his whiskers, which he wore only around his face, like a frame, were grey also. His clothing was of rich stuff, but old, and slightlyfrayed in places. One of his swollen legs had a pillow under it, and waswrapped in bandages. There was silence now; and there was no head therebut was bent in reverence, except this man's. This stern-countenancedinvalid was the dread Henry VIII. He said--and his face grew gentle ashe began to speak--

"How now, my lord Edward, my prince? Hast been minded to cozen me, thegood King thy father, who loveth thee, and kindly useth thee, with asorry jest?"

Poor Tom was listening, as well as his dazed faculties would let him, tothe beginning of this speech; but when the words 'me, the good King' fellupon his ear, his face blanched, and he dropped as instantly upon hisknees as if a shot had brought him there. Lifting up his hands, heexclaimed--

"Thou the KING? Then am I undone indeed!"

This speech seemed to stun the King. His eyes wandered from face to faceaimlessly, then rested, bewildered, upon the boy before him. Then hesaid in a tone of deep disappointment--

"Alack, I had believed the rumour disproportioned to the truth; but Ifear me 'tis not so. " He breathed a heavy sigh, and said in a gentlevoice, "Come to thy father, child: thou art not well. "

Tom was assisted to his feet, and approached the Majesty of England, humble and trembling. The King took the frightened face between hishands, and gazed earnestly and lovingly into it awhile, as if seekingsome grateful sign of returning reason there, then pressed the curly headagainst his breast, and patted it tenderly. Presently he said--

"Dost not know thy father, child? Break not mine old heart; say thouknow'st me. Thou DOST know me, dost thou not?"

"Yea: thou art my dread lord the King, whom God preserve!"

"True, true--that is well--be comforted, tremble not so; there is nonehere would hurt thee; there is none here but loves thee. Thou art betternow; thy ill dream passeth--is't not so? Thou wilt not miscall thyselfagain, as they say thou didst a little while agone?"

"I pray thee of thy grace believe me, I did but speak the truth, mostdread lord; for I am the meanest among thy subjects, being a pauper born, and 'tis by a sore mischance and accident I am here, albeit I was thereinnothing blameful. I am but young to die, and thou canst save me with onelittle word. Oh speak it, sir!"

"Die? Talk not so, sweet prince--peace, peace, to thy troubled heart--thou shalt not die!"

Tom dropped upon his knees with a glad cry--

"God requite thy mercy, O my King, and save thee long to bless thy land!"Then springing up, he turned a joyful face toward the two lords inwaiting, and exclaimed, "Thou heard'st it! I am not to die: the Kinghath said it!" There was no movement, save that all bowed with graverespect; but no one spoke. He hesitated, a little confused, then turnedtimidly toward the King, saying, "I may go now?"

"Go? Surely, if thou desirest. But why not tarry yet a little? Whitherwould'st go?"

Tom dropped his eyes, and answered humbly--

"Peradventure I mistook; but I did think me free, and so was I moved toseek again the kennel where I was born and bred to misery, yet whichharboureth my mother and my sisters, and so is home to me; whereas thesepomps and splendours whereunto I am not used--oh, please you, sir, to letme go!"

The King was silent and thoughtful a while, and his face betrayed agrowing distress and uneasiness. Presently he said, with something ofhope in his voice--

"Perchance he is but mad upon this one strain, and hath his wits unmarredas toucheth other matter. God send it may be so! We will make trial. "

Then he asked Tom a question in Latin, and Tom answered him lamely in thesame tongue. The lords and doctors manifested their gratification also. The King said--

"'Twas not according to his schooling and ability, but showeth that hismind is but diseased, not stricken fatally. How say you, sir?"

The physician addressed bowed low, and replied--

"It jumpeth with my own conviction, sire, that thou hast divined aright. "

The King looked pleased with this encouragement, coming as it did from soexcellent authority, and continued with good heart--

"Now mark ye all: we will try him further. "

He put a question to Tom in French. Tom stood silent a moment, embarrassed by having so many eyes centred upon him, then saiddiffidently--

"I have no knowledge of this tongue, so please your majesty. "

The King fell back upon his couch. The attendants flew to hisassistance; but he put them aside, and said--

"Trouble me not--it is nothing but a scurvy faintness. Raise me! There, 'tis sufficient. Come hither, child; there, rest thy poor troubled headupon thy father's heart, and be at peace. Thou'lt soon be well: 'tisbut a passing fantasy. Fear thou not; thou'lt soon be well. " Then heturned toward the company: his gentle manner changed, and balefullightnings began to play from his eyes. He said--

"List ye all! This my son is mad; but it is not permanent. Over-studyhath done this, and somewhat too much of confinement. Away with hisbooks and teachers! see ye to it. Pleasure him with sports, beguile himin wholesome ways, so that his health come again. " He raised himselfhigher still, and went on with energy, "He is mad; but he is my son, andEngland's heir; and, mad or sane, still shall he reign! And hear yefurther, and proclaim it: whoso speaketh of this his distemper workethagainst the peace and order of these realms, and shall to the gallows!. . . Give me to drink--I burn: this sorrow sappeth my strength. . . . There, take away the cup. . . . Support me. There, that is well. Mad, is he? Were he a thousand times mad, yet is he Prince of Wales, and I theKing will confirm it. This very morrow shall he be installed in hisprincely dignity in due and ancient form. Take instant order for it, mylord Hertford. "

One of the nobles knelt at the royal couch, and said--

"The King's majesty knoweth that the Hereditary Great Marshal of Englandlieth attainted in the Tower. It were not meet that one attainted--"

"Peace! Insult not mine ears with his hated name. Is this man to livefor ever? Am I to be baulked of my will? Is the prince to tarryuninstalled, because, forsooth, the realm lacketh an Earl Marshal free oftreasonable taint to invest him with his honours? No, by the splendour ofGod! Warn my Parliament to bring me Norfolk's doom before the sun riseagain, else shall they answer for it grievously!" {1}

Lord Hertford said--

"The King's will is law;" and, rising, returned to his former place. 

Gradually the wrath faded out of the old King's face, and he said--

"Kiss me, my prince. There . . . What fearest thou? Am I not thy lovingfather?"

"Thou art good to me that am unworthy, O mighty and gracious lord: thatin truth I know. But--but--it grieveth me to think of him that is todie, and--"

"Ah, 'tis like thee, 'tis like thee! I know thy heart is still the same, even though thy mind hath suffered hurt, for thou wert ever of a gentlespirit. But this duke standeth between thee and thine honours: I willhave another in his stead that shall bring no taint to his great office. Comfort thee, my prince: trouble not thy poor head with this matter. "

"But is it not I that speed him hence, my liege? How long might he notlive, but for me?"

"Take no thought of him, my prince: he is not worthy. Kiss me onceagain, and go to thy trifles and amusements; for my malady distressethme. I am aweary, and would rest. Go with thine uncle Hertford and thypeople, and come again when my body is refreshed. "

Tom, heavy-hearted, was conducted from the presence, for this lastsentence was a death-blow to the hope he had cherished that now he wouldbe set free. Once more he heard the buzz of low voices exclaiming, "Theprince, the prince comes!"

His spirits sank lower and lower as he moved between the glittering filesof bowing courtiers; for he recognised that he was indeed a captive now, and might remain for ever shut up in this gilded cage, a forlorn andfriendless prince, except God in his mercy take pity on him and set himfree. 

And, turn where he would, he seemed to see floating in the air thesevered head and the remembered face of the great Duke of Norfolk, theeyes fixed on him reproachfully. 

His old dreams had been so pleasant; but this reality was so dreary!

Chapter VI. Tom receives instructions. 

Tom was conducted to the principal apartment of a noble suite, and madeto sit down--a thing which he was loth to do, since there were elderlymen and men of high degree about him. He begged them to be seated also, but they only bowed their thanks or murmured them, and remained standing. He would have insisted, but his 'uncle' the Earl of Hertford whispered inhis ear--

"Prithee, insist not, my lord; it is not meet that they sit in thypresence. "

The Lord St. John was announced, and after making obeisance to Tom, hesaid--

"I come upon the King's errand, concerning a matter which requirethprivacy. Will it please your royal highness to dismiss all that attendyou here, save my lord the Earl of Hertford?"

Observing that Tom did not seem to know how to proceed, Hertfordwhispered him to make a sign with his hand, and not trouble himself tospeak unless he chose. When the waiting gentlemen had retired, Lord St. John said--

"His majesty commandeth, that for due and weighty reasons of state, theprince's grace shall hide his infirmity in all ways that be within hispower, till it be passed and he be as he was before. To wit, that heshall deny to none that he is the true prince, and heir to England'sgreatness; that he shall uphold his princely dignity, and shall receive, without word or sign of protest, that reverence and observance which untoit do appertain of right and ancient usage; that he shall cease to speakto any of that lowly birth and life his malady hath conjured out of theunwholesome imaginings of o'er-wrought fancy; that he shall strive withdiligence to bring unto his memory again those faces which he was wont toknow--and where he faileth he shall hold his peace, neither betraying bysemblance of surprise or other sign that he hath forgot; that uponoccasions of state, whensoever any matter shall perplex him as to thething he should do or the utterance he should make, he shall show noughtof unrest to the curious that look on, but take advice in that matter ofthe Lord Hertford, or my humble self, which are commanded of the King tobe upon this service and close at call, till this commandment bedissolved. Thus saith the King's majesty, who sendeth greeting to yourroyal highness, and prayeth that God will of His mercy quickly heal youand have you now and ever in His holy keeping. "

The Lord St. John made reverence and stood aside. Tom repliedresignedly--

"The King hath said it. None may palter with the King's command, or fitit to his ease, where it doth chafe, with deft evasions. The King shallbe obeyed. "

Lord Hertford said--

"Touching the King's majesty's ordainment concerning books and such likeserious matters, it may peradventure please your highness to ease yourtime with lightsome entertainment, lest you go wearied to the banquet andsuffer harm thereby. "

Tom's face showed inquiring surprise; and a blush followed when he sawLord St. John's eyes bent sorrowfully upon him. His lordship said--

"Thy memory still wrongeth thee, and thou hast shown surprise--but sufferit not to trouble thee, for 'tis a matter that will not bide, but departwith thy mending malady. My Lord of Hertford speaketh of the city'sbanquet which the King's majesty did promise, some two months flown, yourhighness should attend. Thou recallest it now?"

"It grieves me to confess it had indeed escaped me, " said Tom, in ahesitating voice; and blushed again. 

At this moment the Lady Elizabeth and the Lady Jane Grey were announced. The two lords exchanged significant glances, and Hertford stepped quicklytoward the door. As the young girls passed him, he said in a low voice--

"I pray ye, ladies, seem not to observe his humours, nor show surprisewhen his memory doth lapse--it will grieve you to note how it doth stickat every trifle. "

Meantime Lord St. John was saying in Tom's ear--

"Please you, sir, keep diligently in mind his majesty's desire. Rememberall thou canst--SEEM to remember all else. Let them not perceive thatthou art much changed from thy wont, for thou knowest how tenderly thyold play-fellows bear thee in their hearts and how 'twould grieve them. Art willing, sir, that I remain?--and thine uncle?"

Tom signified assent with a gesture and a murmured word, for he wasalready learning, and in his simple heart was resolved to acquit himselfas best he might, according to the King's command. 

In spite of every precaution, the conversation among the young peoplebecame a little embarrassing at times. More than once, in truth, Tom wasnear to breaking down and confessing himself unequal to his tremendouspart; but the tact of the Princess Elizabeth saved him, or a word fromone or the other of the vigilant lords, thrown in apparently by chance, had the same happy effect. Once the little Lady Jane turned to Tom anddismayed him with this question, --

"Hast paid thy duty to the Queen's majesty to-day, my lord?"

Tom hesitated, looked distressed, and was about to stammer out somethingat hazard, when Lord St. John took the word and answered for him with theeasy grace of a courtier accustomed to encounter delicate difficultiesand to be ready for them--

"He hath indeed, madam, and she did greatly hearten him, as touching hismajesty's condition; is it not so, your highness?"

Tom mumbled something that stood for assent, but felt that he was gettingupon dangerous ground. Somewhat later it was mentioned that Tom was tostudy no more at present, whereupon her little ladyship exclaimed--

"'Tis a pity, 'tis a pity! Thou wert proceeding bravely. But bide thytime in patience: it will not be for long. Thou'lt yet be graced withlearning like thy father, and make thy tongue master of as many languagesas his, good my prince. "

"My father!" cried Tom, off his guard for the moment. "I trow he cannotspeak his own so that any but the swine that kennel in the styes may tellhis meaning; and as for learning of any sort soever--"

He looked up and encountered a solemn warning in my Lord St. John's eyes. 

He stopped, blushed, then continued low and sadly: "Ah, my maladypersecuteth me again, and my mind wandereth. I meant the King's grace noirreverence. "

"We know it, sir, " said the Princess Elizabeth, taking her 'brother's'hand between her two palms, respectfully but caressingly; "trouble notthyself as to that. The fault is none of thine, but thy distemper's. "

"Thou'rt a gentle comforter, sweet lady, " said Tom, gratefully, "and myheart moveth me to thank thee for't, an' I may be so bold. "

Once the giddy little Lady Jane fired a simple Greek phrase at Tom. ThePrincess Elizabeth's quick eye saw by the serene blankness of thetarget's front that the shaft was overshot; so she tranquilly delivered areturn volley of sounding Greek on Tom's behalf, and then straightwaychanged the talk to other matters. 

Time wore on pleasantly, and likewise smoothly, on the whole. Snags andsandbars grew less and less frequent, and Tom grew more and more at hisease, seeing that all were so lovingly bent upon helping him andoverlooking his mistakes. When it came out that the little ladies wereto accompany him to the Lord Mayor's banquet in the evening, his heartgave a bound of relief and delight, for he felt that he should not befriendless, now, among that multitude of strangers; whereas, an hourearlier, the idea of their going with him would have been aninsupportable terror to him. 

Tom's guardian angels, the two lords, had had less comfort in theinterview than the other parties to it. They felt much as if they werepiloting a great ship through a dangerous channel; they were on the alertconstantly, and found their office no child's play. Wherefore, at last, when the ladies' visit was drawing to a close and the Lord GuilfordDudley was announced, they not only felt that their charge had beensufficiently taxed for the present, but also that they themselves werenot in the best condition to take their ship back and make their anxiousvoyage all over again. So they respectfully advised Tom to excusehimself, which he was very glad to do, although a slight shade ofdisappointment might have been observed upon my Lady Jane's face when sheheard the splendid stripling denied admittance. 

There was a pause now, a sort of waiting silence which Tom could notunderstand. He glanced at Lord Hertford, who gave him a sign--but hefailed to understand that also. The ready Elizabeth came to the rescuewith her usual easy grace. She made reverence and said--

"Have we leave of the prince's grace my brother to go?"

Tom said--

"Indeed your ladyships can have whatsoever of me they will, for theasking; yet would I rather give them any other thing that in my poorpower lieth, than leave to take the light and blessing of their presencehence. Give ye good den, and God be with ye!" Then he smiled inwardly atthe thought, "'Tis not for nought I have dwelt but among princes in myreading, and taught my tongue some slight trick of their broidered andgracious speech withal!"

When the illustrious maidens were gone, Tom turned wearily to his keepersand said--

"May it please your lordships to grant me leave to go into some cornerand rest me?"

Lord Hertford said--

"So please your highness, it is for you to command, it is for us to obey. That thou should'st rest is indeed a needful thing, since thou mustjourney to the city presently. "

He touched a bell, and a page appeared, who was ordered to desire thepresence of Sir William Herbert. This gentleman came straightway, andconducted Tom to an inner apartment. Tom's first movement there was toreach for a cup of water; but a silk-and-velvet servitor seized it, dropped upon one knee, and offered it to him on a golden salver. 

Next the tired captive sat down and was going to take off his buskins, timidly asking leave with his eye, but another silk-and-velvetdiscomforter went down upon his knees and took the office from him. Hemade two or three further efforts to help himself, but being promptlyforestalled each time, he finally gave up, with a sigh of resignation anda murmured "Beshrew me, but I marvel they do not require to breathe forme also!" Slippered, and wrapped in a sumptuous robe, he laid himselfdown at last to rest, but not to sleep, for his head was too full ofthoughts and the room too full of people. He could not dismiss theformer, so they stayed; he did not know enough to dismiss the latter, sothey stayed also, to his vast regret--and theirs. 

Tom's departure had left his two noble guardians alone. They mused awhile, with much head-shaking and walking the floor, then Lord St. Johnsaid--

"Plainly, what dost thou think?"

"Plainly, then, this. The King is near his end; my nephew is mad--madwill mount the throne, and mad remain. God protect England, since shewill need it!"

"Verily it promiseth so, indeed. But . . . Have you no misgivings as to. . . As to . . . "

The speaker hesitated, and finally stopped. He evidently felt that hewas upon delicate ground. Lord Hertford stopped before him, looked intohis face with a clear, frank eye, and said--

"Speak on--there is none to hear but me. Misgivings as to what?"

"I am full loth to word the thing that is in my mind, and thou so near tohim in blood, my lord. But craving pardon if I do offend, seemeth it notstrange that madness could so change his port and manner?--not but thathis port and speech are princely still, but that they DIFFER, in oneunweighty trifle or another, from what his custom was aforetime. Seemethit not strange that madness should filch from his memory his father'svery lineaments; the customs and observances that are his due from suchas be about him; and, leaving him his Latin, strip him of his Greek andFrench? My lord, be not offended, but ease my mind of its disquiet andreceive my grateful thanks. It haunteth me, his saying he was not theprince, and so--"

"Peace, my lord, thou utterest treason! Hast forgot the King's command?Remember I am party to thy crime if I but listen. "

St. John paled, and hastened to say--

"I was in fault, I do confess it. Betray me not, grant me this grace outof thy courtesy, and I will neither think nor speak of this thing more. Deal not hardly with me, sir, else am I ruined. "

"I am content, my lord. So thou offend not again, here or in the ears ofothers, it shall be as though thou hadst not spoken. But thou need'stnot have misgivings. He is my sister's son; are not his voice, his face, his form, familiar to me from his cradle? Madness can do all the oddconflicting things thou seest in him, and more. Dost not recall how thatthe old Baron Marley, being mad, forgot the favour of his own countenancethat he had known for sixty years, and held it was another's; nay, evenclaimed he was the son of Mary Magdalene, and that his head was made ofSpanish glass; and, sooth to say, he suffered none to touch it, lest bymischance some heedless hand might shiver it? Give thy misgivingseasement, good my lord. This is the very prince--I know him well--andsoon will be thy king; it may advantage thee to bear this in mind, andmore dwell upon it than the other. "

After some further talk, in which the Lord St. John covered up hismistake as well as he could by repeated protests that his faith wasthoroughly grounded now, and could not be assailed by doubts again, theLord Hertford relieved his fellow-keeper, and sat down to keep watch andward alone. He was soon deep in meditation, and evidently the longer hethought, the more he was bothered. By-and-by he began to pace the floorand mutter. 

"Tush, he MUST be the prince! Will any be in all the land maintain therecan be two, not of one blood and birth, so marvellously twinned? Andeven were it so, 'twere yet a stranger miracle that chance should castthe one into the other's place. Nay, 'tis folly, folly, folly!"

Presently he said--

"Now were he impostor and called himself prince, look you THAT would benatural; that would be reasonable. But lived ever an impostor yet, who, being called prince by the king, prince by the court, prince by all, DENIED his dignity and pleaded against his exaltation? NO! By the soulof St. Swithin, no! This is the true prince, gone mad!"

Chapter VII. Tom's first royal dinner. 

Somewhat after one in the afternoon, Tom resignedly underwent the ordealof being dressed for dinner. He found himself as finely clothed asbefore, but everything different, everything changed, from his ruff tohis stockings. He was presently conducted with much state to a spaciousand ornate apartment, where a table was already set for one. Itsfurniture was all of massy gold, and beautified with designs whichwell-nigh made it priceless, since they were the work of Benvenuto. Theroom was half-filled with noble servitors. A chaplain said grace, andTom was about to fall to, for hunger had long been constitutional withhim, but was interrupted by my lord the Earl of Berkeley, who fastened anapkin about his neck; for the great post of Diaperers to the Prince ofWales was hereditary in this nobleman's family. Tom's cupbearer waspresent, and forestalled all his attempts to help himself to wine. TheTaster to his highness the Prince of Wales was there also, prepared totaste any suspicious dish upon requirement, and run the risk of beingpoisoned. He was only an ornamental appendage at this time, and wasseldom called upon to exercise his function; but there had been times, not many generations past, when the office of taster had its perils, andwas not a grandeur to be desired. Why they did not use a dog or aplumber seems strange; but all the ways of royalty are strange. My Lordd'Arcy, First Groom of the Chamber, was there, to do goodness knows what;but there he was--let that suffice. The Lord Chief Butler was there, andstood behind Tom's chair, overseeing the solemnities, under command ofthe Lord Great Steward and the Lord Head Cook, who stood near. Tom hadthree hundred and eighty-four servants beside these; but they were notall in that room, of course, nor the quarter of them; neither was Tomaware yet that they existed. 

All those that were present had been well drilled within the hour toremember that the prince was temporarily out of his head, and to becareful to show no surprise at his vagaries. These 'vagaries' were soonon exhibition before them; but they only moved their compassion and theirsorrow, not their mirth. It was a heavy affliction to them to see thebeloved prince so stricken. 

Poor Tom ate with his fingers mainly; but no one smiled at it, or evenseemed to observe it. He inspected his napkin curiously, and with deepinterest, for it was of a very dainty and beautiful fabric, then saidwith simplicity--

"Prithee, take it away, lest in mine unheedfulness it be soiled. "

The Hereditary Diaperer took it away with reverent manner, and withoutword or protest of any sort. 

Tom examined the turnips and the lettuce with interest, and asked whatthey were, and if they were to be eaten; for it was only recently thatmen had begun to raise these things in England in place of importing themas luxuries from Holland. {1} His question was answered with graverespect, and no surprise manifested. When he had finished his dessert, he filled his pockets with nuts; but nobody appeared to be aware of it, or disturbed by it. But the next moment he was himself disturbed by it, and showed discomposure; for this was the only service he had beenpermitted to do with his own hands during the meal, and he did not doubtthat he had done a most improper and unprincely thing. At that momentthe muscles of his nose began to twitch, and the end of that organ tolift and wrinkle. This continued, and Tom began to evince a growingdistress. He looked appealingly, first at one and then another of thelords about him, and tears came into his eyes. They sprang forward withdismay in their faces, and begged to know his trouble. Tom said withgenuine anguish--

"I crave your indulgence: my nose itcheth cruelly. What is the customand usage in this emergence? Prithee, speed, for 'tis but a little timethat I can bear it. "

None smiled; but all were sore perplexed, and looked one to the other indeep tribulation for counsel. But behold, here was a dead wall, andnothing in English history to tell how to get over it. The Master ofCeremonies was not present: there was no one who felt safe to ventureupon this uncharted sea, or risk the attempt to solve this solemnproblem. Alas! there was no Hereditary Scratcher. Meantime the tearshad overflowed their banks, and begun to trickle down Tom's cheeks. Histwitching nose was pleading more urgently than ever for relief. At lastnature broke down the barriers of etiquette: Tom lifted up an inwardprayer for pardon if he was doing wrong, and brought relief to theburdened hearts of his court by scratching his nose himself. 

His meal being ended, a lord came and held before him a broad, shallow, golden dish with fragrant rosewater in it, to cleanse his mouth andfingers with; and my lord the Hereditary Diaperer stood by with a napkinfor his use. Tom gazed at the dish a puzzled moment or two, then raisedit to his lips, and gravely took a draught. Then he returned it to thewaiting lord, and said--

"Nay, it likes me not, my lord: it hath a pretty flavour, but it wantethstrength. "

This new eccentricity of the prince's ruined mind made all the heartsabout him ache; but the sad sight moved none to merriment. 

Tom's next unconscious blunder was to get up and leave the table justwhen the chaplain had taken his stand behind his chair, and with upliftedhands, and closed, uplifted eyes, was in the act of beginning theblessing. Still nobody seemed to perceive that the prince had done athing unusual. 

By his own request our small friend was now conducted to his privatecabinet, and left there alone to his own devices. Hanging upon hooks inthe oaken wainscoting were the several pieces of a suit of shining steelarmour, covered all over with beautiful designs exquisitely inlaid ingold. This martial panoply belonged to the true prince--a recent presentfrom Madam Parr the Queen. Tom put on the greaves, the gauntlets, theplumed helmet, and such other pieces as he could don without assistance, and for a while was minded to call for help and complete the matter, butbethought him of the nuts he had brought away from dinner, and the joy itwould be to eat them with no crowd to eye him, and no Grand Hereditariesto pester him with undesired services; so he restored the pretty thingsto their several places, and soon was cracking nuts, and feeling almostnaturally happy for the first time since God for his sins had made him aprince. When the nuts were all gone, he stumbled upon some invitingbooks in a closet, among them one about the etiquette of the Englishcourt. This was a prize. He lay down upon a sumptuous divan, andproceeded to instruct himself with honest zeal. Let us leave him therefor the present. 

Chapter VIII. The question of the Seal. 

About five o'clock Henry VIII. Awoke out of an unrefreshing nap, andmuttered to himself, "Troublous dreams, troublous dreams! Mine end is nowat hand: so say these warnings, and my failing pulses do confirm it. "Presently a wicked light flamed up in his eye, and he muttered, "Yet willnot I die till HE go before. "

His attendants perceiving that he was awake, one of them asked hispleasure concerning the Lord Chancellor, who was waiting without. 

"Admit him, admit him!" exclaimed the King eagerly. 

The Lord Chancellor entered, and knelt by the King's couch, saying--

"I have given order, and, according to the King's command, the peers ofthe realm, in their robes, do now stand at the bar of the House, where, having confirmed the Duke of Norfolk's doom, they humbly wait hismajesty's further pleasure in the matter. "

The King's face lit up with a fierce joy. Said he--

"Lift me up! In mine own person will I go before my Parliament, and withmine own hand will I seal the warrant that rids me of--"

His voice failed; an ashen pallor swept the flush from his cheeks; andthe attendants eased him back upon his pillows, and hurriedly assistedhim with restoratives. Presently he said sorrowfully--

"Alack, how have I longed for this sweet hour! and lo, too late itcometh, and I am robbed of this so coveted chance. But speed ye, speedye! let others do this happy office sith 'tis denied to me. I put myGreat Seal in commission: choose thou the lords that shall compose it, and get ye to your work. Speed ye, man! Before the sun shall rise andset again, bring me his head that I may see it. "

"According to the King's command, so shall it be. Will't please yourmajesty to order that the Seal be now restored to me, so that I may forthupon the business?"

"The Seal? Who keepeth the Seal but thou?"

"Please your majesty, you did take it from me two days since, saying itshould no more do its office till your own royal hand should use it uponthe Duke of Norfolk's warrant. "

"Why, so in sooth I did: I do remember. . . . What did I with it? . . . Iam very feeble. . . . So oft these days doth my memory play the traitorwith me. . . . 'Tis strange, strange--"

The King dropped into inarticulate mumblings, shaking his grey headweakly from time to time, and gropingly trying to recollect what he haddone with the Seal. At last my Lord Hertford ventured to kneel and offerinformation--

"Sire, if that I may be so bold, here be several that do remember with mehow that you gave the Great Seal into the hands of his highness thePrince of Wales to keep against the day that--"

"True, most true!" interrupted the King. "Fetch it! Go: time flieth!"

Lord Hertford flew to Tom, but returned to the King before very long, troubled and empty-handed. He delivered himself to this effect--

"It grieveth me, my lord the King, to bear so heavy and unwelcometidings; but it is the will of God that the prince's affliction abidethstill, and he cannot recall to mind that he received the Seal. So came Iquickly to report, thinking it were waste of precious time, and littleworth withal, that any should attempt to search the long array ofchambers and saloons that belong unto his royal high--"

A groan from the King interrupted the lord at this point. After a littlewhile his majesty said, with a deep sadness in his tone--

"Trouble him no more, poor child. The hand of God lieth heavy upon him, and my heart goeth out in loving compassion for him, and sorrow that Imay not bear his burden on mine old trouble-weighted shoulders, and sobring him peace. "

He closed his eyes, fell to mumbling, and presently was silent. After atime he opened his eyes again, and gazed vacantly around until his glancerested upon the kneeling Lord Chancellor. Instantly his face flushed withwrath--

"What, thou here yet! By the glory of God, an' thou gettest not aboutthat traitor's business, thy mitre shall have holiday the morrow for lackof a head to grace withal!"

The trembling Chancellor answered--

"Good your Majesty, I cry you mercy! I but waited for the Seal. "

"Man, hast lost thy wits? The small Seal which aforetime I was wont totake with me abroad lieth in my treasury. And, since the Great Seal hathflown away, shall not it suffice? Hast lost thy wits? Begone! And harkye--come no more till thou do bring his head. "

The poor Chancellor was not long in removing himself from this dangerousvicinity; nor did the commission waste time in giving the royal assent tothe work of the slavish Parliament, and appointing the morrow for thebeheading of the premier peer of England, the luckless Duke of Norfolk. {1}

Chapter IX. The river pageant. 

At nine in the evening the whole vast river-front of the palace wasblazing with light. The river itself, as far as the eye could reachcitywards, was so thickly covered with watermen's boats and withpleasure-barges, all fringed with coloured lanterns, and gently agitatedby the waves, that it resembled a glowing and limitless garden of flowersstirred to soft motion by summer winds. The grand terrace of stone stepsleading down to the water, spacious enough to mass the army of a Germanprincipality upon, was a picture to see, with its ranks of royalhalberdiers in polished armour, and its troops of brilliantly costumedservitors flitting up and down, and to and fro, in the hurry ofpreparation. 

Presently a command was given, and immediately all living creaturesvanished from the steps. Now the air was heavy with the hush of suspenseand expectancy. As far as one's vision could carry, he might see themyriads of people in the boats rise up, and shade their eyes from theglare of lanterns and torches, and gaze toward the palace. 

A file of forty or fifty state barges drew up to the steps. They wererichly gilt, and their lofty prows and sterns were elaborately carved. Some of them were decorated with banners and streamers; some withcloth-of-gold and arras embroidered with coats-of-arms; others withsilken flags that had numberless little silver bells fastened to them, which shook out tiny showers of joyous music whenever the breezesfluttered them; others of yet higher pretensions, since they belonged tonobles in the prince's immediate service, had their sides picturesquelyfenced with shields gorgeously emblazoned with armorial bearings. Eachstate barge was towed by a tender. Besides the rowers, these tenderscarried each a number of men-at-arms in glossy helmet and breastplate, and a company of musicians. 

The advance-guard of the expected procession now appeared in the greatgateway, a troop of halberdiers. 'They were dressed in striped hose ofblack and tawny, velvet caps graced at the sides with silver roses, anddoublets of murrey and blue cloth, embroidered on the front and back withthe three feathers, the prince's blazon, woven in gold. Their halberdstaves were covered with crimson velvet, fastened with gilt nails, andornamented with gold tassels. Filing off on the right and left, theyformed two long lines, extending from the gateway of the palace to thewater's edge. A thick rayed cloth or carpet was then unfolded, and laiddown between them by attendants in the gold-and-crimson liveries of theprince. This done, a flourish of trumpets resounded from within. Alively prelude arose from the musicians on the water; and two ushers withwhite wands marched with a slow and stately pace from the portal. Theywere followed by an officer bearing the civic mace, after whom cameanother carrying the city's sword; then several sergeants of the cityguard, in their full accoutrements, and with badges on their sleeves;then the Garter King-at-arms, in his tabard; then several Knights of theBath, each with a white lace on his sleeve; then their esquires; then thejudges, in their robes of scarlet and coifs; then the Lord HighChancellor of England, in a robe of scarlet, open before, and purfledwith minever; then a deputation of aldermen, in their scarlet cloaks; andthen the heads of the different civic companies, in their robes of state. Now came twelve French gentlemen, in splendid habiliments, consistingof pourpoints of white damask barred with gold, short mantles ofcrimson velvet lined with violet taffeta, and carnation colouredhauts-de-chausses, and took their way down the steps. They were of thesuite of the French ambassador, and were followed by twelve cavaliers ofthe suite of the Spanish ambassador, clothed in black velvet, unrelievedby any ornament. Following these came several great English nobles withtheir attendants. '

There was a flourish of trumpets within; and the Prince's uncle, thefuture great Duke of Somerset, emerged from the gateway, arrayed in a'doublet of black cloth-of-gold, and a cloak of crimson satin floweredwith gold, and ribanded with nets of silver. ' He turned, doffed hisplumed cap, bent his body in a low reverence, and began to step backward, bowing at each step. A prolonged trumpet-blast followed, and aproclamation, "Way for the high and mighty the Lord Edward, Prince ofWales!" High aloft on the palace walls a long line of red tongues offlame leapt forth with a thunder-crash; the massed world on the riverburst into a mighty roar of welcome; and Tom Canty, the cause and hero ofit all, stepped into view and slightly bowed his princely head. 

He was 'magnificently habited in a doublet of white satin, with afront-piece of purple cloth-of-tissue, powdered with diamonds, and edgedwith ermine. Over this he wore a mantle of white cloth-of-gold, pouncedwith the triple-feathered crest, lined with blue satin, set with pearlsand precious stones, and fastened with a clasp of brilliants. About hisneck hung the order of the Garter, and several princely foreign orders;'and wherever light fell upon him jewels responded with a blinding flash. O Tom Canty, born in a hovel, bred in the gutters of London, familiarwith rags and dirt and misery, what a spectacle is this!

Chapter X. The Prince in the toils. 

We left John Canty dragging the rightful prince into Offal Court, with anoisy and delighted mob at his heels. There was but one person in it whooffered a pleading word for the captive, and he was not heeded; he washardly even heard, so great was the turmoil. The Prince continued tostruggle for freedom, and to rage against the treatment he was suffering, until John Canty lost what little patience was left in him, and raisedhis oaken cudgel in a sudden fury over the Prince's head. The singlepleader for the lad sprang to stop the man's arm, and the blow descendedupon his own wrist. Canty roared out--

"Thou'lt meddle, wilt thou? Then have thy reward. "

His cudgel crashed down upon the meddler's head: there was a groan, adim form sank to the ground among the feet of the crowd, and the nextmoment it lay there in the dark alone. The mob pressed on, theirenjoyment nothing disturbed by this episode. 

Presently the Prince found himself in John Canty's abode, with the doorclosed against the outsiders. By the vague light of a tallow candlewhich was thrust into a bottle, he made out the main features of theloathsome den, and also the occupants of it. Two frowsy girls and amiddle-aged woman cowered against the wall in one corner, with the aspectof animals habituated to harsh usage, and expecting and dreading it now. From another corner stole a withered hag with streaming grey hair andmalignant eyes. John Canty said to this one--

"Tarry! There's fine mummeries here. Mar them not till thou'st enjoyedthem: then let thy hand be heavy as thou wilt. Stand forth, lad. Nowsay thy foolery again, an thou'st not forgot it. Name thy name. Who artthou?"

The insulted blood mounted to the little prince's cheek once more, and helifted a steady and indignant gaze to the man's face and said--

"'Tis but ill-breeding in such as thou to command me to speak. I tellthee now, as I told thee before, I am Edward, Prince of Wales, and noneother. "

The stunning surprise of this reply nailed the hag's feet to the floorwhere she stood, and almost took her breath. She stared at the Prince instupid amazement, which so amused her ruffianly son, that he burst into aroar of laughter. But the effect upon Tom Canty's mother and sisters wasdifferent. Their dread of bodily injury gave way at once to distress ofa different sort. They ran forward with woe and dismay in their faces, exclaiming--

"Oh, poor Tom, poor lad!"

The mother fell on her knees before the Prince, put her hands upon hisshoulders, and gazed yearningly into his face through her rising tears. Then she said--

"Oh, my poor boy! Thy foolish reading hath wrought its woeful work atlast, and ta'en thy wit away. Ah! why did'st thou cleave to it when I sowarned thee 'gainst it? Thou'st broke thy mother's heart. "

The Prince looked into her face, and said gently--

"Thy son is well, and hath not lost his wits, good dame. Comfort thee:let me to the palace where he is, and straightway will the King my fatherrestore him to thee. "

"The King thy father! Oh, my child! unsay these words that be freightedwith death for thee, and ruin for all that be near to thee. Shake ofthis gruesome dream. Call back thy poor wandering memory. Look upon me. Am not I thy mother that bore thee, and loveth thee?"

The Prince shook his head and reluctantly said--

"God knoweth I am loth to grieve thy heart; but truly have I never lookedupon thy face before. "

The woman sank back to a sitting posture on the floor, and, covering hereyes with her hands, gave way to heart-broken sobs and wailings. 

"Let the show go on!" shouted Canty. "What, Nan!--what, Bet! mannerlesswenches! will ye stand in the Prince's presence? Upon your knees, yepauper scum, and do him reverence!"

He followed this with another horse-laugh. The girls began to pleadtimidly for their brother; and Nan said--

"An thou wilt but let him to bed, father, rest and sleep will heal hismadness: prithee, do. "

"Do, father, " said Bet; "he is more worn than is his wont. To-morrowwill he be himself again, and will beg with diligence, and come not emptyhome again. "

This remark sobered the father's joviality, and brought his mind tobusiness. He turned angrily upon the Prince, and said--

"The morrow must we pay two pennies to him that owns this hole; twopennies, mark ye--all this money for a half-year's rent, else out of thiswe go. Show what thou'st gathered with thy lazy begging. "

The Prince said--

"Offend me not with thy sordid matters. I tell thee again I am theKing's son. "

A sounding blow upon the Prince's shoulder from Canty's broad palm senthim staggering into goodwife Canty's arms, who clasped him to her breast, and sheltered him from a pelting rain of cuffs and slaps by interposingher own person. The frightened girls retreated to their corner; but thegrandmother stepped eagerly forward to assist her son. The Prince sprangaway from Mrs. Canty, exclaiming--

"Thou shalt not suffer for me, madam. Let these swine do their will uponme alone. "

This speech infuriated the swine to such a degree that they set abouttheir work without waste of time. Between them they belaboured the boyright soundly, and then gave the girls and their mother a beating forshowing sympathy for the victim. 

"Now, " said Canty, "to bed, all of ye. The entertainment has tired me. "

The light was put out, and the family retired. As soon as the snoringsof the head of the house and his mother showed that they were asleep, theyoung girls crept to where the Prince lay, and covered him tenderly fromthe cold with straw and rags; and their mother crept to him also, andstroked his hair, and cried over him, whispering broken words of comfortand compassion in his ear the while. She had saved a morsel for him toeat, also; but the boy's pains had swept away all appetite--at least forblack and tasteless crusts. He was touched by her brave and costlydefence of him, and by her commiseration; and he thanked her in verynoble and princely words, and begged her to go to her sleep and try toforget her sorrows. And he added that the King his father would not lether loyal kindness and devotion go unrewarded. This return to his'madness' broke her heart anew, and she strained him to her breast againand again, and then went back, drowned in tears, to her bed. 

As she lay thinking and mourning, the suggestion began to creep into hermind that there was an undefinable something about this boy that waslacking in Tom Canty, mad or sane. She could not describe it, she couldnot tell just what it was, and yet her sharp mother-instinct seemed todetect it and perceive it. What if the boy were really not her son, after all? Oh, absurd! She almost smiled at the idea, spite of hergriefs and troubles. No matter, she found that it was an idea that wouldnot 'down, ' but persisted in haunting her. It pursued her, it harassedher, it clung to her, and refused to be put away or ignored. At last sheperceived that there was not going to be any peace for her until sheshould devise a test that should prove, clearly and without question, whether this lad was her son or not, and so banish these wearing andworrying doubts. Ah, yes, this was plainly the right way out of thedifficulty; therefore she set her wits to work at once to contrive thattest. But it was an easier thing to propose than to accomplish. Sheturned over in her mind one promising test after another, but was obligedto relinquish them all--none of them were absolutely sure, absolutelyperfect; and an imperfect one could not satisfy her. Evidently she wasracking her head in vain--it seemed manifest that she must give thematter up. While this depressing thought was passing through her mind, her ear caught the regular breathing of the boy, and she knew he hadfallen asleep. And while she listened, the measured breathing was brokenby a soft, startled cry, such as one utters in a troubled dream. Thischance occurrence furnished her instantly with a plan worth all herlaboured tests combined. She at once set herself feverishly, butnoiselessly, to work to relight her candle, muttering to herself, "Had Ibut seen him THEN, I should have known! Since that day, when he waslittle, that the powder burst in his face, he hath never been startled ofa sudden out of his dreams or out of his thinkings, but he hath cast hishand before his eyes, even as he did that day; and not as others would doit, with the palm inward, but always with the palm turned outward--I haveseen it a hundred times, and it hath never varied nor ever failed. Yes, I shall soon know, now!"

By this time she had crept to the slumbering boy's side, with the candle, shaded, in her hand. She bent heedfully and warily over him, scarcelybreathing in her suppressed excitement, and suddenly flashed the light inhis face and struck the floor by his ear with her knuckles. Thesleeper's eyes sprang wide open, and he cast a startled stare about him--but he made no special movement with his hands. 

The poor woman was smitten almost helpless with surprise and grief; butshe contrived to hide her emotions, and to soothe the boy to sleep again;then she crept apart and communed miserably with herself upon thedisastrous result of her experiment. She tried to believe that her Tom'smadness had banished this habitual gesture of his; but she could not doit. "No, " she said, "his HANDS are not mad; they could not unlearn soold a habit in so brief a time. Oh, this is a heavy day for me!"

Still, hope was as stubborn now as doubt had been before; she could notbring herself to accept the verdict of the test; she must try the thingagain--the failure must have been only an accident; so she startled theboy out of his sleep a second and a third time, at intervals--with thesame result which had marked the first test; then she dragged herself tobed, and fell sorrowfully asleep, saying, "But I cannot give him up--ohno, I cannot, I cannot--he MUST be my boy!"

The poor mother's interruptions having ceased, and the Prince's painshaving gradually lost their power to disturb him, utter weariness at lastsealed his eyes in a profound and restful sleep. Hour after hour slippedaway, and still he slept like the dead. Thus four or five hours passed. Then his stupor began to lighten. Presently, while half asleep and halfawake, he murmured--

"Sir William!"

After a moment--

"Ho, Sir William Herbert! Hie thee hither, and list to the strangestdream that ever . . . Sir William! dost hear? Man, I did think mechanged to a pauper, and . . . Ho there! Guards! Sir William! What! isthere no groom of the chamber in waiting? Alack! it shall go hard with--"

"What aileth thee?" asked a whisper near him. "Who art thou calling?"

"Sir William Herbert. Who art thou?"

"I? Who should I be, but thy sister Nan? Oh, Tom, I had forgot! Thou'rtmad yet--poor lad, thou'rt mad yet: would I had never woke to know itagain! But prithee master thy tongue, lest we be all beaten till wedie!"

The startled Prince sprang partly up, but a sharp reminder from hisstiffened bruises brought him to himself, and he sank back among his foulstraw with a moan and the ejaculation--

"Alas! it was no dream, then!"

In a moment all the heavy sorrow and misery which sleep had banished wereupon him again, and he realised that he was no longer a petted prince ina palace, with the adoring eyes of a nation upon him, but a pauper, anoutcast, clothed in rags, prisoner in a den fit only for beasts, andconsorting with beggars and thieves. 

In the midst of his grief he began to be conscious of hilarious noisesand shoutings, apparently but a block or two away. The next moment therewere several sharp raps at the door; John Canty ceased from snoring andsaid--

"Who knocketh? What wilt thou?"

A voice answered--

"Know'st thou who it was thou laid thy cudgel on?"

"No. Neither know I, nor care. "

"Belike thou'lt change thy note eftsoons. An thou would save thy neck, nothing but flight may stead thee. The man is this moment delivering upthe ghost. 'Tis the priest, Father Andrew!"

"God-a-mercy!" exclaimed Canty. He roused his family, and hoarselycommanded, "Up with ye all and fly--or bide where ye are and perish!"

Scarcely five minutes later the Canty household were in the street andflying for their lives. John Canty held the Prince by the wrist, andhurried him along the dark way, giving him this caution in a low voice--

"Mind thy tongue, thou mad fool, and speak not our name. I will chooseme a new name, speedily, to throw the law's dogs off the scent. Mind thytongue, I tell thee!"

He growled these words to the rest of the family--

"If it so chance that we be separated, let each make for London Bridge;whoso findeth himself as far as the last linen-draper's shop on thebridge, let him tarry there till the others be come, then will we fleeinto Southwark together. "

At this moment the party burst suddenly out of darkness into light; andnot only into light, but into the midst of a multitude of singing, dancing, and shouting people, massed together on the river frontage. There was a line of bonfires stretching as far as one could see, up anddown the Thames; London Bridge was illuminated; Southwark Bridgelikewise; the entire river was aglow with the flash and sheen of colouredlights; and constant explosions of fireworks filled the skies with anintricate commingling of shooting splendours and a thick rain of dazzlingsparks that almost turned night into day; everywhere were crowds ofrevellers; all London seemed to be at large. 

John Canty delivered himself of a furious curse and commanded a retreat;but it was too late. He and his tribe were swallowed up in that swarminghive of humanity, and hopelessly separated from each other in an instant. We are not considering that the Prince was one of his tribe; Canty stillkept his grip upon him. The Prince's heart was beating high with hopesof escape, now. A burly waterman, considerably exalted with liquor, found himself rudely shoved by Canty in his efforts to plough through thecrowd; he laid his great hand on Canty's shoulder and said--

"Nay, whither so fast, friend? Dost canker thy soul with sordid businesswhen all that be leal men and true make holiday?"

"Mine affairs are mine own, they concern thee not, " answered Canty, roughly; "take away thy hand and let me pass. "

"Sith that is thy humour, thou'lt NOT pass, till thou'st drunk to thePrince of Wales, I tell thee that, " said the waterman, barring the wayresolutely. 

"Give me the cup, then, and make speed, make speed!"

Other revellers were interested by this time. They cried out--

"The loving-cup, the loving-cup! make the sour knave drink theloving-cup, else will we feed him to the fishes. "

So a huge loving-cup was brought; the waterman, grasping it by one of itshandles, and with the other hand bearing up the end of an imaginarynapkin, presented it in due and ancient form to Canty, who had to graspthe opposite handle with one of his hands and take off the lid with theother, according to ancient custom. {1} This left the Prince hand-freefor a second, of course. He wasted no time, but dived among the forestof legs about him and disappeared. In another moment he could not havebeen harder to find, under that tossing sea of life, if its billows hadbeen the Atlantic's and he a lost sixpence. 

He very soon realised this fact, and straightway busied himself about hisown affairs without further thought of John Canty. He quickly realisedanother thing, too. To wit, that a spurious Prince of Wales was beingfeasted by the city in his stead. He easily concluded that the pauperlad, Tom Canty, had deliberately taken advantage of his stupendousopportunity and become a usurper. 

Therefore there was but one course to pursue--find his way to theGuildhall, make himself known, and denounce the impostor. He also madeup his mind that Tom should be allowed a reasonable time for spiritualpreparation, and then be hanged, drawn and quartered, according to thelaw and usage of the day in cases of high treason. 

Chapter XI. At Guildhall. 

The royal barge, attended by its gorgeous fleet, took its stately waydown the Thames through the wilderness of illuminated boats. The air wasladen with music; the river banks were beruffled with joy-flames; thedistant city lay in a soft luminous glow from its countless invisiblebonfires; above it rose many a slender spire into the sky, incrusted withsparkling lights, wherefore in their remoteness they seemed like jewelledlances thrust aloft; as the fleet swept along, it was greeted from thebanks with a continuous hoarse roar of cheers and the ceaseless flash andboom of artillery. 

To Tom Canty, half buried in his silken cushions, these sounds and thisspectacle were a wonder unspeakably sublime and astonishing. To hislittle friends at his side, the Princess Elizabeth and the Lady JaneGrey, they were nothing. 

Arrived at the Dowgate, the fleet was towed up the limpid Walbrook (whosechannel has now been for two centuries buried out of sight under acres ofbuildings) to Bucklersbury, past houses and under bridges populous withmerry-makers and brilliantly lighted, and at last came to a halt in abasin where now is Barge Yard, in the centre of the ancient city ofLondon. Tom disembarked, and he and his gallant procession crossedCheapside and made a short march through the Old Jewry and BasinghallStreet to the Guildhall. 

Tom and his little ladies were received with due ceremony by the LordMayor and the Fathers of the City, in their gold chains and scarlet robesof state, and conducted to a rich canopy of state at the head of thegreat hall, preceded by heralds making proclamation, and by the Mace andthe City Sword. The lords and ladies who were to attend upon Tom and histwo small friends took their places behind their chairs. 

At a lower table the Court grandees and other guests of noble degree wereseated, with the magnates of the city; the commoners took places at amultitude of tables on the main floor of the hall. From their loftyvantage-ground the giants Gog and Magog, the ancient guardians of thecity, contemplated the spectacle below them with eyes grown familiar toit in forgotten generations. There was a bugle-blast and a proclamation, and a fat butler appeared in a high perch in the leftward wall, followedby his servitors bearing with impressive solemnity a royal baron of beef, smoking hot and ready for the knife. 

After grace, Tom (being instructed) rose--and the whole house with him--and drank from a portly golden loving-cup with the Princess Elizabeth;from her it passed to the Lady Jane, and then traversed the generalassemblage. So the banquet began. 

By midnight the revelry was at its height. Now came one of thosepicturesque spectacles so admired in that old day. A description of itis still extant in the quaint wording of a chronicler who witnessed it:

'Space being made, presently entered a baron and an earl appareled afterthe Turkish fashion in long robes of bawdkin powdered with gold; hats ontheir heads of crimson velvet, with great rolls of gold, girded with twoswords, called scimitars, hanging by great bawdricks of gold. Next cameyet another baron and another earl, in two long gowns of yellow satin, traversed with white satin, and in every bend of white was a bend ofcrimson satin, after the fashion of Russia, with furred hats of gray ontheir heads; either of them having an hatchet in their hands, and bootswith pykes' (points a foot long), 'turned up. And after them came aknight, then the Lord High Admiral, and with him five nobles, in doubletsof crimson velvet, voyded low on the back and before to the cannell-bone, laced on the breasts with chains of silver; and over that, short cloaksof crimson satin, and on their heads hats after the dancers' fashion, with pheasants' feathers in them. These were appareled after the fashionof Prussia. The torchbearers, which were about an hundred, wereappareled in crimson satin and green, like Moors, their faces black. Next came in a mommarye. Then the minstrels, which were disguised, danced; and the lords and ladies did wildly dance also, that it was apleasure to behold. '

And while Tom, in his high seat, was gazing upon this 'wild' dancing, lost in admiration of the dazzling commingling of kaleidoscopic colourswhich the whirling turmoil of gaudy figures below him presented, theragged but real little Prince of Wales was proclaiming his rights and hiswrongs, denouncing the impostor, and clamouring for admission at thegates of Guildhall! The crowd enjoyed this episode prodigiously, andpressed forward and craned their necks to see the small rioter. Presently they began to taunt him and mock at him, purposely to goad himinto a higher and still more entertaining fury. Tears of mortificationsprang to his eyes, but he stood his ground and defied the mob rightroyally. Other taunts followed, added mockings stung him, and heexclaimed--

"I tell ye again, you pack of unmannerly curs, I am the Prince of Wales!And all forlorn and friendless as I be, with none to give me word ofgrace or help me in my need, yet will not I be driven from my ground, butwill maintain it!"

"Though thou be prince or no prince, 'tis all one, thou be'st a gallantlad, and not friendless neither! Here stand I by thy side to prove it;and mind I tell thee thou might'st have a worser friend than Miles Hendonand yet not tire thy legs with seeking. Rest thy small jaw, my child; Italk the language of these base kennel-rats like to a very native. "

The speaker was a sort of Don Caesar de Bazan in dress, aspect, andbearing. He was tall, trim-built, muscular. His doublet and trunks wereof rich material, but faded and threadbare, and their gold-laceadornments were sadly tarnished; his ruff was rumpled and damaged; theplume in his slouched hat was broken and had a bedraggled anddisreputable look; at his side he wore a long rapier in a rusty ironsheath; his swaggering carriage marked him at once as a ruffler of thecamp. The speech of this fantastic figure was received with an explosionof jeers and laughter. Some cried, "'Tis another prince in disguise!""'Ware thy tongue, friend: belike he is dangerous!" "Marry, he lookethit--mark his eye!" "Pluck the lad from him--to the horse-pond wi' thecub!"

Instantly a hand was laid upon the Prince, under the impulse of thishappy thought; as instantly the stranger's long sword was out and themeddler went to the earth under a sounding thump with the flat of it. The next moment a score of voices shouted, "Kill the dog! Kill him!Kill him!" and the mob closed in on the warrior, who backed himselfagainst a wall and began to lay about him with his long weapon like amadman. His victims sprawled this way and that, but the mob-tide pouredover their prostrate forms and dashed itself against the champion withundiminished fury. His moments seemed numbered, his destruction certain, when suddenly a trumpet-blast sounded, a voice shouted, "Way for theKing's messenger!" and a troop of horsemen came charging down upon themob, who fled out of harm's reach as fast as their legs could carry them. The bold stranger caught up the Prince in his arms, and was soon far awayfrom danger and the multitude. 

Return we within the Guildhall. Suddenly, high above the jubilant roarand thunder of the revel, broke the clear peal of a bugle-note. Therewas instant silence--a deep hush; then a single voice rose--that of themessenger from the palace--and began to pipe forth a proclamation, thewhole multitude standing listening. 

The closing words, solemnly pronounced, were--

"The King is dead!"

The great assemblage bent their heads upon their breasts with one accord;remained so, in profound silence, a few moments; then all sank upon theirknees in a body, stretched out their hands toward Tom, and a mighty shoutburst forth that seemed to shake the building--

"Long live the King!"

Poor Tom's dazed eyes wandered abroad over this stupefying spectacle, andfinally rested dreamily upon the kneeling princesses beside him, amoment, then upon the Earl of Hertford. A sudden purpose dawned in hisface. He said, in a low tone, at Lord Hertford's ear--

"Answer me truly, on thy faith and honour! Uttered I here a command, thewhich none but a king might hold privilege and prerogative to utter, would such commandment be obeyed, and none rise up to say me nay?"

"None, my liege, in all these realms. In thy person bides the majesty ofEngland. Thou art the king--thy word is law. "

Tom responded, in a strong, earnest voice, and with great animation--

"Then shall the king's law be law of mercy, from this day, and never morebe law of blood! Up from thy knees and away! To the Tower, and say theKing decrees the Duke of Norfolk shall not die!" {1}

The words were caught up and carried eagerly from lip to lip far and wideover the hall, and as Hertford hurried from the presence, anotherprodigious shout burst forth--

"The reign of blood is ended! Long live Edward, King of England!"

Chapter XII. The Prince and his deliverer. 

As soon as Miles Hendon and the little prince were clear of the mob, theystruck down through back lanes and alleys toward the river. Their waywas unobstructed until they approached London Bridge; then they ploughedinto the multitude again, Hendon keeping a fast grip upon the Prince's--no, the King's--wrist. The tremendous news was already abroad, and theboy learned it from a thousand voices at once--"The King is dead!" Thetidings struck a chill to the heart of the poor little waif, and sent ashudder through his frame. He realised the greatness of his loss, andwas filled with a bitter grief; for the grim tyrant who had been such aterror to others had always been gentle with him. The tears sprang tohis eyes and blurred all objects. For an instant he felt himself themost forlorn, outcast, and forsaken of God's creatures--then another cryshook the night with its far-reaching thunders: "Long live King Edwardthe Sixth!" and this made his eyes kindle, and thrilled him with pride tohis fingers' ends. "Ah, " he thought, "how grand and strange it seems--IAM KING!"

Our friends threaded their way slowly through the throngs upon thebridge. This structure, which had stood for six hundred years, and hadbeen a noisy and populous thoroughfare all that time, was a curiousaffair, for a closely packed rank of stores and shops, with familyquarters overhead, stretched along both sides of it, from one bank of theriver to the other. The Bridge was a sort of town to itself; it had itsinn, its beer-houses, its bakeries, its haberdasheries, its food markets, its manufacturing industries, and even its church. It looked upon thetwo neighbours which it linked together--London and Southwark--as beingwell enough as suburbs, but not otherwise particularly important. It wasa close corporation, so to speak; it was a narrow town, of a singlestreet a fifth of a mile long, its population was but a villagepopulation and everybody in it knew all his fellow-townsmen intimately, and had known their fathers and mothers before them--and all their littlefamily affairs into the bargain. It had its aristocracy, of course--itsfine old families of butchers, and bakers, and what-not, who had occupiedthe same old premises for five or six hundred years, and knew the greathistory of the Bridge from beginning to end, and all its strange legends;and who always talked bridgy talk, and thought bridgy thoughts, and liedin a long, level, direct, substantial bridgy way. It was just the sortof population to be narrow and ignorant and self-conceited. Children wereborn on the Bridge, were reared there, grew to old age, and finally diedwithout ever having set a foot upon any part of the world but LondonBridge alone. Such people would naturally imagine that the mighty andinterminable procession which moved through its street night and day, with its confused roar of shouts and cries, its neighings and bellowingand bleatings and its muffled thunder-tramp, was the one great thing inthis world, and themselves somehow the proprietors of it. And so theywere, in effect--at least they could exhibit it from their windows, anddid--for a consideration--whenever a returning king or hero gave it afleeting splendour, for there was no place like it for affording a long, straight, uninterrupted view of marching columns. 

Men born and reared upon the Bridge found life unendurably dull and inaneelsewhere. History tells of one of these who left the Bridge at the ageof seventy-one and retired to the country. But he could only fret andtoss in his bed; he could not go to sleep, the deep stillness was sopainful, so awful, so oppressive. When he was worn out with it, at last, he fled back to his old home, a lean and haggard spectre, and fellpeacefully to rest and pleasant dreams under the lulling music of thelashing waters and the boom and crash and thunder of London Bridge. 

In the times of which we are writing, the Bridge furnished 'objectlessons' in English history for its children--namely, the livid anddecaying heads of renowned men impaled upon iron spikes atop of itsgateways. But we digress. 

Hendon's lodgings were in the little inn on the Bridge. As he neared thedoor with his small friend, a rough voice said--

"So, thou'rt come at last! Thou'lt not escape again, I warrant thee; andif pounding thy bones to a pudding can teach thee somewhat, thou'lt notkeep us waiting another time, mayhap. "--and John Canty put out his hand toseize the boy. 

Miles Hendon stepped in the way and said--

"Not too fast, friend. Thou art needlessly rough, methinks. What is thelad to thee?"

"If it be any business of thine to make and meddle in others' affairs, heis my son. "

"'Tis a lie!" cried the little King, hotly. 

"Boldly said, and I believe thee, whether thy small headpiece be sound orcracked, my boy. But whether this scurvy ruffian be thy father or no, 'tis all one, he shall not have thee to beat thee and abuse, according tohis threat, so thou prefer to bide with me. "

"I do, I do--I know him not, I loathe him, and will die before I will gowith him. "

"Then 'tis settled, and there is nought more to say. "

"We will see, as to that!" exclaimed John Canty, striding past Hendon toget at the boy; "by force shall he--"

"If thou do but touch him, thou animated offal, I will spit thee like agoose!" said Hendon, barring the way and laying his hand upon his swordhilt. Canty drew back. "Now mark ye, " continued Hendon, "I took thislad under my protection when a mob of such as thou would have mishandledhim, mayhap killed him; dost imagine I will desert him now to a worserfate?--for whether thou art his father or no--and sooth to say, I thinkit is a lie--a decent swift death were better for such a lad than life insuch brute hands as thine. So go thy ways, and set quick about it, for Ilike not much bandying of words, being not over-patient in my nature. "

John Canty moved off, muttering threats and curses, and was swallowedfrom sight in the crowd. Hendon ascended three flights of stairs to hisroom, with his charge, after ordering a meal to be sent thither. It wasa poor apartment, with a shabby bed and some odds and ends of oldfurniture in it, and was vaguely lighted by a couple of sickly candles. The little King dragged himself to the bed and lay down upon it, almostexhausted with hunger and fatigue. He had been on his feet a good partof a day and a night (for it was now two or three o'clock in themorning), and had eaten nothing meantime. He murmured drowsily--

"Prithee call me when the table is spread, " and sank into a deep sleepimmediately. 

A smile twinkled in Hendon's eye, and he said to himself--

"By the mass, the little beggar takes to one's quarters and usurps one'sbed with as natural and easy a grace as if he owned them--with never aby-your-leave or so-please-it-you, or anything of the sort. In hisdiseased ravings he called himself the Prince of Wales, and bravely dothhe keep up the character. Poor little friendless rat, doubtless his mindhas been disordered with ill-usage. Well, I will be his friend; I havesaved him, and it draweth me strongly to him; already I love thebold-tongued little rascal. How soldier-like he faced the smutty rabbleand flung back his high defiance! And what a comely, sweet and gentleface he hath, now that sleep hath conjured away its troubles and itsgriefs. I will teach him; I will cure his malady; yea, I will be hiselder brother, and care for him and watch over him; and whoso would shamehim or do him hurt may order his shroud, for though I be burnt for it heshall need it!"

He bent over the boy and contemplated him with kind and pitying interest, tapping the young cheek tenderly and smoothing back the tangled curlswith his great brown hand. A slight shiver passed over the boy's form. Hendon muttered--

"See, now, how like a man it was to let him lie here uncovered and fillhis body with deadly rheums. Now what shall I do? 'twill wake him totake him up and put him within the bed, and he sorely needeth sleep. "

He looked about for extra covering, but finding none, doffed his doubletand wrapped the lad in it, saying, "I am used to nipping air and scantapparel, 'tis little I shall mind the cold!"--then walked up and down theroom, to keep his blood in motion, soliloquising as before. 

"His injured mind persuades him he is Prince of Wales; 'twill be odd tohave a Prince of Wales still with us, now that he that WAS the prince isprince no more, but king--for this poor mind is set upon the one fantasy, and will not reason out that now it should cast by the prince and callitself the king. . . If my father liveth still, after these seven yearsthat I have heard nought from home in my foreign dungeon, he will welcomethe poor lad and give him generous shelter for my sake; so will my goodelder brother, Arthur; my other brother, Hugh--but I will crack his crownan HE interfere, the fox-hearted, ill-conditioned animal! Yes, thitherwill we fare--and straightway, too. "

A servant entered with a smoking meal, disposed it upon a small dealtable, placed the chairs, and took his departure, leaving such cheaplodgers as these to wait upon themselves. The door slammed after him, and the noise woke the boy, who sprang to a sitting posture, and shot aglad glance about him; then a grieved look came into his face and hemurmured to himself, with a deep sigh, "Alack, it was but a dream, woe isme!" Next he noticed Miles Hendon's doublet--glanced from that toHendon, comprehended the sacrifice that had been made for him, and said, gently--

"Thou art good to me, yes, thou art very good to me. Take it and put iton--I shall not need it more. "

Then he got up and walked to the washstand in the corner and stood there, waiting. Hendon said in a cheery voice--

"We'll have a right hearty sup and bite, now, for everything is savouryand smoking hot, and that and thy nap together will make thee a littleman again, never fear!"

The boy made no answer, but bent a steady look, that was filled withgrave surprise, and also somewhat touched with impatience, upon the tallknight of the sword. Hendon was puzzled, and said--

"What's amiss?"

"Good sir, I would wash me. "

"Oh, is that all? Ask no permission of Miles Hendon for aught thoucravest. Make thyself perfectly free here, and welcome, with all thatare his belongings. "

Still the boy stood, and moved not; more, he tapped the floor once ortwice with his small impatient foot. Hendon was wholly perplexed. Saidhe--

"Bless us, what is it?"

"Prithee pour the water, and make not so many words!"

Hendon, suppressing a horse-laugh, and saying to himself, "By all thesaints, but this is admirable!" stepped briskly forward and did the smallinsolent's bidding; then stood by, in a sort of stupefaction, until thecommand, "Come--the towel!" woke him sharply up. He took up a towel, from under the boy's nose, and handed it to him without comment. He nowproceeded to comfort his own face with a wash, and while he was at it hisadopted child seated himself at the table and prepared to fall to. Hendon despatched his ablutions with alacrity, then drew back the otherchair and was about to place himself at table, when the boy said, indignantly--

"Forbear! Wouldst sit in the presence of the King?"

This blow staggered Hendon to his foundations. He muttered to himself, "Lo, the poor thing's madness is up with the time! It hath changed withthe great change that is come to the realm, and now in fancy is he KING!Good lack, I must humour the conceit, too--there is no other way--faith, he would order me to the Tower, else!"

And pleased with this jest, he removed the chair from the table, took hisstand behind the King, and proceeded to wait upon him in the courtliestway he was capable of. 

While the King ate, the rigour of his royal dignity relaxed a little, andwith his growing contentment came a desire to talk. He said--"I thinkthou callest thyself Miles Hendon, if I heard thee aright?"

"Yes, Sire, " Miles replied; then observed to himself, "If I MUST humourthe poor lad's madness, I must 'Sire' him, I must 'Majesty' him, I mustnot go by halves, I must stick at nothing that belongeth to the part Iplay, else shall I play it ill and work evil to this charitable andkindly cause. "

The King warmed his heart with a second glass of wine, and said--"I wouldknow thee--tell me thy story. Thou hast a gallant way with thee, and anoble--art nobly born?"

"We are of the tail of the nobility, good your Majesty. My father is abaronet--one of the smaller lords by knight service {2}--Sir RichardHendon of Hendon Hall, by Monk's Holm in Kent. "

"The name has escaped my memory. Go on--tell me thy story. "

"'Tis not much, your Majesty, yet perchance it may beguile a shorthalf-hour for want of a better. My father, Sir Richard, is very rich, and of a most generous nature. My mother died whilst I was yet a boy. Ihave two brothers: Arthur, my elder, with a soul like to his father's;and Hugh, younger than I, a mean spirit, covetous, treacherous, vicious, underhanded--a reptile. Such was he from the cradle; such was he tenyears past, when I last saw him--a ripe rascal at nineteen, I beingtwenty then, and Arthur twenty-two. There is none other of us but theLady Edith, my cousin--she was sixteen then--beautiful, gentle, good, thedaughter of an earl, the last of her race, heiress of a great fortune anda lapsed title. My father was her guardian. I loved her and she lovedme; but she was betrothed to Arthur from the cradle, and Sir Richardwould not suffer the contract to be broken. Arthur loved another maid, and bade us be of good cheer and hold fast to the hope that delay andluck together would some day give success to our several causes. Hughloved the Lady Edith's fortune, though in truth he said it was herself heloved--but then 'twas his way, alway, to say the one thing and mean theother. But he lost his arts upon the girl; he could deceive my father, but none else. My father loved him best of us all, and trusted andbelieved him; for he was the youngest child, and others hated him--thesequalities being in all ages sufficient to win a parent's dearest love;and he had a smooth persuasive tongue, with an admirable gift of lying--and these be qualities which do mightily assist a blind affection tocozen itself. I was wild--in troth I might go yet farther and say VERYwild, though 'twas a wildness of an innocent sort, since it hurt none butme, brought shame to none, nor loss, nor had in it any taint of crime orbaseness, or what might not beseem mine honourable degree. 

"Yet did my brother Hugh turn these faults to good account--he seeingthat our brother Arthur's health was but indifferent, and hoping theworst might work him profit were I swept out of the path--so--but 'twerea long tale, good my liege, and little worth the telling. Briefly, then, this brother did deftly magnify my faults and make them crimes; endinghis base work with finding a silken ladder in mine apartments--conveyedthither by his own means--and did convince my father by this, andsuborned evidence of servants and other lying knaves, that I was mindedto carry off my Edith and marry with her in rank defiance of his will. 

"Three years of banishment from home and England might make a soldier anda man of me, my father said, and teach me some degree of wisdom. Ifought out my long probation in the continental wars, tasting sumptuouslyof hard knocks, privation, and adventure; but in my last battle I wastaken captive, and during the seven years that have waxed and waned sincethen, a foreign dungeon hath harboured me. Through wit and courage I wonto the free air at last, and fled hither straight; and am but justarrived, right poor in purse and raiment, and poorer still in knowledgeof what these dull seven years have wrought at Hendon Hall, its peopleand belongings. So please you, sir, my meagre tale is told. "

"Thou hast been shamefully abused!" said the little King, with a flashingeye. "But I will right thee--by the cross will I! The King hath saidit. "

Then, fired by the story of Miles's wrongs, he loosed his tongue andpoured the history of his own recent misfortunes into the ears of hisastonished listener. When he had finished, Miles said to himself--

"Lo, what an imagination he hath! Verily, this is no common mind; else, crazed or sane, it could not weave so straight and gaudy a tale as thisout of the airy nothings wherewith it hath wrought this curious romaunt. Poor ruined little head, it shall not lack friend or shelter whilst Ibide with the living. He shall never leave my side; he shall be my pet, my little comrade. And he shall be cured!--ay, made whole and sound--then will he make himself a name--and proud shall I be to say, 'Yes, heis mine--I took him, a homeless little ragamuffin, but I saw what was inhim, and I said his name would be heard some day--behold him, observehim--was I right?'"

The King spoke--in a thoughtful, measured voice--

"Thou didst save me injury and shame, perchance my life, and so my crown. Such service demandeth rich reward. Name thy desire, and so it be withinthe compass of my royal power, it is thine. "

This fantastic suggestion startled Hendon out of his reverie. He wasabout to thank the King and put the matter aside with saying he had onlydone his duty and desired no reward, but a wiser thought came into hishead, and he asked leave to be silent a few moments and consider thegracious offer--an idea which the King gravely approved, remarking thatit was best to be not too hasty with a thing of such great import. 

Miles reflected during some moments, then said to himself, "Yes, that isthe thing to do--by any other means it were impossible to get at it--andcertes, this hour's experience has taught me 'twould be most wearing andinconvenient to continue it as it is. Yes, I will propose it; 'twas ahappy accident that I did not throw the chance away. " Then he droppedupon one knee and said--

"My poor service went not beyond the limit of a subject's simple duty, and therefore hath no merit; but since your Majesty is pleased to hold itworthy some reward, I take heart of grace to make petition to thiseffect. Near four hundred years ago, as your grace knoweth, there beingill blood betwixt John, King of England, and the King of France, it wasdecreed that two champions should fight together in the lists, and sosettle the dispute by what is called the arbitrament of God. These twokings, and the Spanish king, being assembled to witness and judge theconflict, the French champion appeared; but so redoubtable was he, thatour English knights refused to measure weapons with him. So the matter, which was a weighty one, was like to go against the English monarch bydefault. Now in the Tower lay the Lord de Courcy, the mightiest arm inEngland, stripped of his honours and possessions, and wasting with longcaptivity. Appeal was made to him; he gave assent, and came fortharrayed for battle; but no sooner did the Frenchman glimpse his hugeframe and hear his famous name but he fled away, and the French king'scause was lost. King John restored De Courcy's titles and possessions, and said, 'Name thy wish and thou shalt have it, though it cost me halfmy kingdom;' whereat De Courcy, kneeling, as I do now, made answer, 'This, then, I ask, my liege; that I and my successors may have and holdthe privilege of remaining covered in the presence of the kings ofEngland, henceforth while the throne shall last. ' The boon was granted, as your Majesty knoweth; and there hath been no time, these four hundredyears, that that line has failed of an heir; and so, even unto this day, the head of that ancient house still weareth his hat or helm before theKing's Majesty, without let or hindrance, and this none other may do. {3}Invoking this precedent in aid of my prayer, I beseech the King to grantto me but this one grace and privilege--to my more than sufficientreward--and none other, to wit: that I and my heirs, for ever, may SITin the presence of the Majesty of England!"

"Rise, Sir Miles Hendon, Knight, " said the King, gravely--giving theaccolade with Hendon's sword--"rise, and seat thyself. Thy petition isgranted. Whilst England remains, and the crown continues, the privilegeshall not lapse. "

His Majesty walked apart, musing, and Hendon dropped into a chair attable, observing to himself, "'Twas a brave thought, and hath wrought mea mighty deliverance; my legs are grievously wearied. An I had notthought of that, I must have had to stand for weeks, till my poor lad'swits are cured. " After a little, he went on, "And so I am become aknight of the Kingdom of Dreams and Shadows! A most odd and strangeposition, truly, for one so matter-of-fact as I. I will not laugh--no, God forbid, for this thing which is so substanceless to me is REAL tohim. And to me, also, in one way, it is not a falsity, for it reflectswith truth the sweet and generous spirit that is in him. " After a pause:"Ah, what if he should call me by my fine title before folk!--there'd bea merry contrast betwixt my glory and my raiment! But no matter, let himcall me what he will, so it please him; I shall be content. "

Chapter XIII. The disappearance of the Prince. 

A heavy drowsiness presently fell upon the two comrades. The King said--

"Remove these rags. "--meaning his clothing. 

Hendon disapparelled the boy without dissent or remark, tucked him up inbed, then glanced about the room, saying to himself, ruefully, "He hathtaken my bed again, as before--marry, what shall _I_ do?" The littleKing observed his perplexity, and dissipated it with a word. He said, sleepily--

"Thou wilt sleep athwart the door, and guard it. " In a moment more hewas out of his troubles, in a deep slumber. 

"Dear heart, he should have been born a king!" muttered Hendon, admiringly; "he playeth the part to a marvel. "

Then he stretched himself across the door, on the floor, sayingcontentedly--

"I have lodged worse for seven years; 'twould be but ill gratitude to Himabove to find fault with this. "

He dropped asleep as the dawn appeared. Toward noon he rose, uncoveredhis unconscious ward--a section at a time--and took his measure with astring. The King awoke, just as he had completed his work, complained ofthe cold, and asked what he was doing. 

"'Tis done, now, my liege, " said Hendon; "I have a bit of businessoutside, but will presently return; sleep thou again--thou needest it. There--let me cover thy head also--thou'lt be warm the sooner. "

The King was back in dreamland before this speech was ended. Milesslipped softly out, and slipped as softly in again, in the course ofthirty or forty minutes, with a complete second-hand suit of boy'sclothing, of cheap material, and showing signs of wear; but tidy, andsuited to the season of the year. He seated himself, and began tooverhaul his purchase, mumbling to himself--

"A longer purse would have got a better sort, but when one has not thelong purse one must be content with what a short one may do--

"'There was a woman in our town, In our town did dwell--'

"He stirred, methinks--I must sing in a less thunderous key; 'tis notgood to mar his sleep, with this journey before him, and he so weariedout, poor chap . . . This garment--'tis well enough--a stitch here andanother one there will set it aright. This other is better, albeit astitch or two will not come amiss in it, likewise . . . THESE be verygood and sound, and will keep his small feet warm and dry--an odd newthing to him, belike, since he has doubtless been used to foot it bare, winters and summers the same . . . Would thread were bread, seeing onegetteth a year's sufficiency for a farthing, and such a brave big needlewithout cost, for mere love. Now shall I have the demon's own time tothread it!"

And so he had. He did as men have always done, and probably always willdo, to the end of time--held the needle still, and tried to thrust thethread through the eye, which is the opposite of a woman's way. Time andtime again the thread missed the mark, going sometimes on one side of theneedle, sometimes on the other, sometimes doubling up against the shaft;but he was patient, having been through these experiences before, when hewas soldiering. He succeeded at last, and took up the garment that hadlain waiting, meantime, across his lap, and began his work. 

"The inn is paid--the breakfast that is to come, included--and there iswherewithal left to buy a couple of donkeys and meet our little costs forthe two or three days betwixt this and the plenty that awaits us atHendon Hall--

"'She loved her hus--'

"Body o' me! I have driven the needle under my nail! . . . It matterslittle--'tis not a novelty--yet 'tis not a convenience, neither. . . . We shall be merry there, little one, never doubt it! Thy troubles willvanish there, and likewise thy sad distemper--

"'She loved her husband dearilee, But another man--'

"These be noble large stitches!"--holding the garment up and viewing itadmiringly--"they have a grandeur and a majesty that do cause these smallstingy ones of the tailor-man to look mightily paltry and plebeian--

"'She loved her husband dearilee, But another man he loved she, --'

"Marry, 'tis done--a goodly piece of work, too, and wrought withexpedition. Now will I wake him, apparel him, pour for him, feed him, and then will we hie us to the mart by the Tabard Inn in Southwark and--be pleased to rise, my liege!--he answereth not--what ho, my liege!--of atruth must I profane his sacred person with a touch, sith his slumber isdeaf to speech. What!"

He threw back the covers--the boy was gone!

He stared about him in speechless astonishment for a moment; noticed forthe first time that his ward's ragged raiment was also missing; then hebegan to rage and storm and shout for the innkeeper. At that moment aservant entered with the breakfast. 

"Explain, thou limb of Satan, or thy time is come!" roared the man ofwar, and made so savage a spring toward the waiter that this latter couldnot find his tongue, for the instant, for fright and surprise. "Where isthe boy?"

In disjointed and trembling syllables the man gave the informationdesired. 

"You were hardly gone from the place, your worship, when a youth camerunning and said it was your worship's will that the boy come to youstraight, at the bridge-end on the Southwark side. I brought him hither;and when he woke the lad and gave his message, the lad did grumble somelittle for being disturbed 'so early, ' as he called it, but straightwaytrussed on his rags and went with the youth, only saying it had beenbetter manners that your worship came yourself, not sent a stranger--andso--"

"And so thou'rt a fool!--a fool and easily cozened--hang all thy breed!Yet mayhap no hurt is done. Possibly no harm is meant the boy. I willgo fetch him. Make the table ready. Stay! the coverings of the bed weredisposed as if one lay beneath them--happened that by accident?"

"I know not, good your worship. I saw the youth meddle with them--hethat came for the boy. "

"Thousand deaths! 'Twas done to deceive me--'tis plain 'twas done togain time. Hark ye! Was that youth alone?"

"All alone, your worship. "

"Art sure?"

"Sure, your worship. "

"Collect thy scattered wits--bethink thee--take time, man. "

After a moment's thought, the servant said--

"When he came, none came with him; but now I remember me that as the twostepped into the throng of the Bridge, a ruffian-looking man plunged outfrom some near place; and just as he was joining them--"

"What THEN?--out with it!" thundered the impatient Hendon, interrupting. 

"Just then the crowd lapped them up and closed them in, and I saw nomore, being called by my master, who was in a rage because a joint thatthe scrivener had ordered was forgot, though I take all the saints towitness that to blame ME for that miscarriage were like holding theunborn babe to judgment for sins com--"

"Out of my sight, idiot! Thy prating drives me mad! Hold! Whither artflying? Canst not bide still an instant? Went they toward Southwark?"

"Even so, your worship--for, as I said before, as to that detestablejoint, the babe unborn is no whit more blameless than--"

"Art here YET! And prating still! Vanish, lest I throttle thee!" Theservitor vanished. Hendon followed after him, passed him, and plungeddown the stairs two steps at a stride, muttering, "'Tis that scurvyvillain that claimed he was his son. I have lost thee, my poor littlemad master--it is a bitter thought--and I had come to love thee so! No!by book and bell, NOT lost! Not lost, for I will ransack the land till Ifind thee again. Poor child, yonder is his breakfast--and mine, but Ihave no hunger now; so, let the rats have it--speed, speed! that is theword!" As he wormed his swift way through the noisy multitudes upon theBridge he several times said to himself--clinging to the thought as if itwere a particularly pleasing one--"He grumbled, but he WENT--he went, yes, because he thought Miles Hendon asked it, sweet lad--he would ne'erhave done it for another, I know it well. "

Chapter XIV. 'Le Roi est mort--vive le Roi. '

Toward daylight of the same morning, Tom Canty stirred out of a heavysleep and opened his eyes in the dark. He lay silent a few moments, trying to analyse his confused thoughts and impressions, and get somesort of meaning out of them; then suddenly he burst out in a rapturousbut guarded voice--

"I see it all, I see it all! Now God be thanked, I am indeed awake atlast! Come, joy! vanish, sorrow! Ho, Nan! Bet! kick off your straw andhie ye hither to my side, till I do pour into your unbelieving ears thewildest madcap dream that ever the spirits of night did conjure up toastonish the soul of man withal! . . . Ho, Nan, I say! Bet!"

A dim form appeared at his side, and a voice said--

"Wilt deign to deliver thy commands?"

"Commands? . . . O, woe is me, I know thy voice! Speak thou--who am I?"

"Thou? In sooth, yesternight wert thou the Prince of Wales; to-day artthou my most gracious liege, Edward, King of England. "

Tom buried his head among his pillows, murmuring plaintively--

"Alack, it was no dream! Go to thy rest, sweet sir--leave me to mysorrows. "

Tom slept again, and after a time he had this pleasant dream. He thoughtit was summer, and he was playing, all alone, in the fair meadow calledGoodman's Fields, when a dwarf only a foot high, with long red whiskersand a humped back, appeared to him suddenly and said, "Dig by thatstump. " He did so, and found twelve bright new pennies--wonderfulriches! Yet this was not the best of it; for the dwarf said--

"I know thee. Thou art a good lad, and a deserving; thy distresses shallend, for the day of thy reward is come. Dig here every seventh day, andthou shalt find always the same treasure, twelve bright new pennies. Tell none--keep the secret. "

Then the dwarf vanished, and Tom flew to Offal Court with his prize, saying to himself, "Every night will I give my father a penny; he willthink I begged it, it will glad his heart, and I shall no more be beaten. One penny every week the good priest that teacheth me shall have; mother, Nan, and Bet the other four. We be done with hunger and rags, now, donewith fears and frets and savage usage. "

In his dream he reached his sordid home all out of breath, but with eyesdancing with grateful enthusiasm; cast four of his pennies into hismother's lap and cried out--

"They are for thee!--all of them, every one!--for thee and Nan and Bet--and honestly come by, not begged nor stolen!"

The happy and astonished mother strained him to her breast and exclaimed--

"It waxeth late--may it please your Majesty to rise?"

Ah! that was not the answer he was expecting. The dream had snappedasunder--he was awake. 

He opened his eyes--the richly clad First Lord of the Bedchamber waskneeling by his couch. The gladness of the lying dream faded away--thepoor boy recognised that he was still a captive and a king. The room wasfilled with courtiers clothed in purple mantles--the mourning colour--andwith noble servants of the monarch. Tom sat up in bed and gazed out fromthe heavy silken curtains upon this fine company. 

The weighty business of dressing began, and one courtier after anotherknelt and paid his court and offered to the little King his condolencesupon his heavy loss, whilst the dressing proceeded. In the beginning, ashirt was taken up by the Chief Equerry in Waiting, who passed it to theFirst Lord of the Buckhounds, who passed it to the Second Gentleman ofthe Bedchamber, who passed it to the Head Ranger of Windsor Forest, whopassed it to the Third Groom of the Stole, who passed it to theChancellor Royal of the Duchy of Lancaster, who passed it to the Masterof the Wardrobe, who passed it to Norroy King-at-Arms, who passed it tothe Constable of the Tower, who passed it to the Chief Steward of theHousehold, who passed it to the Hereditary Grand Diaperer, who passed itto the Lord High Admiral of England, who passed it to the Archbishop ofCanterbury, who passed it to the First Lord of the Bedchamber, who tookwhat was left of it and put it on Tom. Poor little wondering chap, itreminded him of passing buckets at a fire. 

Each garment in its turn had to go through this slow and solemn process;consequently Tom grew very weary of the ceremony; so weary that he feltan almost gushing gratefulness when he at last saw his long silken hosebegin the journey down the line and knew that the end of the matter wasdrawing near. But he exulted too soon. The First Lord of the Bedchamberreceived the hose and was about to encase Tom's legs in them, when asudden flush invaded his face and he hurriedly hustled the things backinto the hands of the Archbishop of Canterbury with an astounded look anda whispered, "See, my lord!" pointing to a something connected with thehose. The Archbishop paled, then flushed, and passed the hose to theLord High Admiral, whispering, "See, my lord!" The Admiral passed thehose to the Hereditary Grand Diaperer, and had hardly breath enough inhis body to ejaculate, "See, my lord!" The hose drifted backward alongthe line, to the Chief Steward of the Household, the Constable of theTower, Norroy King-at-Arms, the Master of the Wardrobe, the ChancellorRoyal of the Duchy of Lancaster, the Third Groom of the Stole, the HeadRanger of Windsor Forest, the Second Gentleman of the Bedchamber, theFirst Lord of the Buckhounds, --accompanied always with that amazed andfrightened "See! see!"--till they finally reached the hands of the ChiefEquerry in Waiting, who gazed a moment, with a pallid face, upon what hadcaused all this dismay, then hoarsely whispered, "Body of my life, a taggone from a truss-point!--to the Tower with the Head Keeper of the King'sHose!"--after which he leaned upon the shoulder of the First Lord of theBuckhounds to regather his vanished strength whilst fresh hose, withoutany damaged strings to them, were brought. 

But all things must have an end, and so in time Tom Canty was in acondition to get out of bed. The proper official poured water, theproper official engineered the washing, the proper official stood by witha towel, and by-and-by Tom got safely through the purifying stage and wasready for the services of the Hairdresser-royal. When he at lengthemerged from this master's hands, he was a gracious figure and as prettyas a girl, in his mantle and trunks of purple satin, and purple-plumedcap. He now moved in state toward his breakfast-room, through the midstof the courtly assemblage; and as he passed, these fell back, leaving hisway free, and dropped upon their knees. 

After breakfast he was conducted, with regal ceremony, attended by hisgreat officers and his guard of fifty Gentlemen Pensioners bearing giltbattle-axes, to the throne-room, where he proceeded to transact businessof state. His 'uncle, ' Lord Hertford, took his stand by the throne, toassist the royal mind with wise counsel. 

The body of illustrious men named by the late King as his executorsappeared, to ask Tom's approval of certain acts of theirs--rather a form, and yet not wholly a form, since there was no Protector as yet. TheArchbishop of Canterbury made report of the decree of the Council ofExecutors concerning the obsequies of his late most illustrious Majesty, and finished by reading the signatures of the Executors, to wit: theArchbishop of Canterbury; the Lord Chancellor of England; William LordSt. John; John Lord Russell; Edward Earl of Hertford; John ViscountLisle; Cuthbert Bishop of Durham--

Tom was not listening--an earlier clause of the document was puzzlinghim. At this point he turned and whispered to Lord Hertford--

"What day did he say the burial hath been appointed for?"

"The sixteenth of the coming month, my liege. "

"'Tis a strange folly. Will he keep?"

Poor chap, he was still new to the customs of royalty; he was used toseeing the forlorn dead of Offal Court hustled out of the way with a verydifferent sort of expedition. However, the Lord Hertford set his mind atrest with a word or two. 

A secretary of state presented an order of the Council appointing themorrow at eleven for the reception of the foreign ambassadors, anddesired the King's assent. 

Tom turned an inquiring look toward Hertford, who whispered--

"Your Majesty will signify consent. They come to testify their royalmasters' sense of the heavy calamity which hath visited your Grace andthe realm of England. "

Tom did as he was bidden. Another secretary began to read a preambleconcerning the expenses of the late King's household, which had amountedto 28, 000 pounds during the preceding six months--a sum so vast that itmade Tom Canty gasp; he gasped again when the fact appeared that 20, 000pounds of this money was still owing and unpaid; {4} and once more whenit appeared that the King's coffers were about empty, and his twelvehundred servants much embarrassed for lack of the wages due them. Tomspoke out, with lively apprehension--

"We be going to the dogs, 'tis plain. 'Tis meet and necessary that wetake a smaller house and set the servants at large, sith they be of novalue but to make delay, and trouble one with offices that harass thespirit and shame the soul, they misbecoming any but a doll, that hath norbrains nor hands to help itself withal. I remember me of a small housethat standeth over against the fish-market, by Billingsgate--"

A sharp pressure upon Tom's arm stopped his foolish tongue and sent ablush to his face; but no countenance there betrayed any sign that thisstrange speech had been remarked or given concern. 

A secretary made report that forasmuch as the late King had provided inhis will for conferring the ducal degree upon the Earl of Hertford andraising his brother, Sir Thomas Seymour, to the peerage, and likewiseHertford's son to an earldom, together with similar aggrandisements toother great servants of the Crown, the Council had resolved to hold asitting on the 16th of February for the delivering and confirming ofthese honours, and that meantime, the late King not having granted, inwriting, estates suitable to the support of these dignities, the Council, knowing his private wishes in that regard, had thought proper to grant toSeymour '500 pound lands, ' and to Hertford's son '800 pound lands, and300 pound of the next bishop's lands which should fall vacant, '--hispresent Majesty being willing. {5}

Tom was about to blurt out something about the propriety of paying thelate King's debts first, before squandering all this money, but a timelytouch upon his arm, from the thoughtful Hertford, saved him thisindiscretion; wherefore he gave the royal assent, without spoken comment, but with much inward discomfort. While he sat reflecting a moment overthe ease with which he was doing strange and glittering miracles, a happythought shot into his mind: why not make his mother Duchess of OffalCourt, and give her an estate? But a sorrowful thought swept itinstantly away: he was only a king in name, these grave veterans andgreat nobles were his masters; to them his mother was only the creatureof a diseased mind; they would simply listen to his project withunbelieving ears, then send for the doctor. 

The dull work went tediously on. Petitions were read, and proclamations, patents, and all manner of wordy, repetitious, and wearisome papersrelating to the public business; and at last Tom sighed pathetically andmurmured to himself, "In what have I offended, that the good God shouldtake me away from the fields and the free air and the sunshine, to shutme up here and make me a king and afflict me so?" Then his poor muddledhead nodded a while and presently drooped to his shoulder; and thebusiness of the empire came to a standstill for want of that augustfactor, the ratifying power. Silence ensued around the slumbering child, and the sages of the realm ceased from their deliberations. 

During the forenoon, Tom had an enjoyable hour, by permission of hiskeepers, Hertford and St. John, with the Lady Elizabeth and the littleLady Jane Grey; though the spirits of the princesses were rather subduedby the mighty stroke that had fallen upon the royal house; and at the endof the visit his 'elder sister'--afterwards the 'Bloody Mary' of history--chilled him with a solemn interview which had but one merit in his eyes, its brevity. He had a few moments to himself, and then a slim lad ofabout twelve years of age was admitted to his presence, whose clothing, except his snowy ruff and the laces about his wrists, was of black, --doublet, hose, and all. He bore no badge of mourning but a knot ofpurple ribbon on his shoulder. He advanced hesitatingly, with head bowedand bare, and dropped upon one knee in front of Tom. Tom sat still andcontemplated him soberly a moment. Then he said--

"Rise, lad. Who art thou. What wouldst have?"

The boy rose, and stood at graceful ease, but with an aspect of concernin his face. He said--

"Of a surety thou must remember me, my lord. I am thy whipping-boy. "

"My WHIPPING-boy?"

"The same, your Grace. I am Humphrey--Humphrey Marlow. "

Tom perceived that here was someone whom his keepers ought to have postedhim about. The situation was delicate. What should he do?--pretend heknew this lad, and then betray by his every utterance that he had neverheard of him before? No, that would not do. An idea came to his relief:accidents like this might be likely to happen with some frequency, nowthat business urgencies would often call Hertford and St. John from hisside, they being members of the Council of Executors; therefore perhapsit would be well to strike out a plan himself to meet the requirements ofsuch emergencies. Yes, that would be a wise course--he would practise onthis boy, and see what sort of success he might achieve. So he strokedhis brow perplexedly a moment or two, and presently said--

"Now I seem to remember thee somewhat--but my wit is clogged and dim withsuffering--"

"Alack, my poor master!" ejaculated the whipping-boy, with feeling;adding, to himself, "In truth 'tis as they said--his mind is gone--alas, poor soul! But misfortune catch me, how am I forgetting! They said onemust not seem to observe that aught is wrong with him. "

"'Tis strange how my memory doth wanton with me these days, " said Tom. "But mind it not--I mend apace--a little clue doth often serve to bringme back again the things and names which had escaped me. (And not they, only, forsooth, but e'en such as I ne'er heard before--as this lad shallsee. ) Give thy business speech. "

"'Tis matter of small weight, my liege, yet will I touch upon it, an' itplease your Grace. Two days gone by, when your Majesty faulted thrice inyour Greek--in the morning lessons, --dost remember it?"

"Y-e-s--methinks I do. (It is not much of a lie--an' I had meddled withthe Greek at all, I had not faulted simply thrice, but forty times. )Yes, I do recall it, now--go on. "

"The master, being wroth with what he termed such slovenly and doltishwork, did promise that he would soundly whip me for it--and--"

"Whip THEE!" said Tom, astonished out of his presence of mind. "Whyshould he whip THEE for faults of mine?"

"Ah, your Grace forgetteth again. He always scourgeth me when thou dostfail in thy lessons. "

"True, true--I had forgot. Thou teachest me in private--then if I fail, he argueth that thy office was lamely done, and--"

"Oh, my liege, what words are these? I, the humblest of thy servants, presume to teach THEE?"

"Then where is thy blame? What riddle is this? Am I in truth gone mad, or is it thou? Explain--speak out. "

"But, good your Majesty, there's nought that needeth simplifying. --Nonemay visit the sacred person of the Prince of Wales with blows; wherefore, when he faulteth, 'tis I that take them; and meet it is and right, forthat it is mine office and my livelihood. " {1}

Tom stared at the tranquil boy, observing to himself, "Lo, it is awonderful thing, --a most strange and curious trade; I marvel they havenot hired a boy to take my combings and my dressings for me--would heaventhey would!--an' they will do this thing, I will take my lashings in mineown person, giving God thanks for the change. " Then he said aloud--

"And hast thou been beaten, poor friend, according to the promise?"

"No, good your Majesty, my punishment was appointed for this day, andperadventure it may be annulled, as unbefitting the season of mourningthat is come upon us; I know not, and so have made bold to come hitherand remind your Grace about your gracious promise to intercede in mybehalf--"

"With the master? To save thee thy whipping?"

"Ah, thou dost remember!"

"My memory mendeth, thou seest. Set thy mind at ease--thy back shall gounscathed--I will see to it. "

"Oh, thanks, my good lord!" cried the boy, dropping upon his knee again. "Mayhap I have ventured far enow; and yet--"

Seeing Master Humphrey hesitate, Tom encouraged him to go on, saying hewas "in the granting mood. "

"Then will I speak it out, for it lieth near my heart. Sith thou art nomore Prince of Wales but King, thou canst order matters as thou wilt, with none to say thee nay; wherefore it is not in reason that thou wiltlonger vex thyself with dreary studies, but wilt burn thy books and turnthy mind to things less irksome. Then am I ruined, and mine orphansisters with me!"

"Ruined? Prithee how?"

"My back is my bread, O my gracious liege! if it go idle, I starve. An'thou cease from study mine office is gone thou'lt need no whipping-boy. Do not turn me away!"

Tom was touched with this pathetic distress. He said, with a right royalburst of generosity--

"Discomfort thyself no further, lad. Thine office shall be permanent inthee and thy line for ever. " Then he struck the boy a light blow on theshoulder with the flat of his sword, exclaiming, "Rise, Humphrey Marlow, Hereditary Grand Whipping-Boy to the Royal House of England! Banishsorrow--I will betake me to my books again, and study so ill that theymust in justice treble thy wage, so mightily shall the business of thineoffice be augmented. "

The grateful Humphrey responded fervidly--

"Thanks, O most noble master, this princely lavishness doth far surpassmy most distempered dreams of fortune. Now shall I be happy all my days, and all the house of Marlow after me. "

Tom had wit enough to perceive that here was a lad who could be useful tohim. He encouraged Humphrey to talk, and he was nothing loath. He wasdelighted to believe that he was helping in Tom's 'cure'; for always, assoon as he had finished calling back to Tom's diseased mind the variousparticulars of his experiences and adventures in the royal school-roomand elsewhere about the palace, he noticed that Tom was then able to'recall' the circumstances quite clearly. At the end of an hour Tomfound himself well freighted with very valuable information concerningpersonages and matters pertaining to the Court; so he resolved to drawinstruction from this source daily; and to this end he would give orderto admit Humphrey to the royal closet whenever he might come, providedthe Majesty of England was not engaged with other people. Humphrey hadhardly been dismissed when my Lord Hertford arrived with more trouble forTom. 

He said that the Lords of the Council, fearing that some overwroughtreport of the King's damaged health might have leaked out and got abroad, they deemed it wise and best that his Majesty should begin to dine inpublic after a day or two--his wholesome complexion and vigorous step, assisted by a carefully guarded repose of manner and ease and grace ofdemeanour, would more surely quiet the general pulse--in case any evilrumours HAD gone about--than any other scheme that could be devised. 

Then the Earl proceeded, very delicately, to instruct Tom as to theobservances proper to the stately occasion, under the rather thindisguise of 'reminding' him concerning things already known to him; butto his vast gratification it turned out that Tom needed very little helpin this line--he had been making use of Humphrey in that direction, forHumphrey had mentioned that within a few days he was to begin to dine inpublic; having gathered it from the swift-winged gossip of the Court. Tom kept these facts to himself, however. 

Seeing the royal memory so improved, the Earl ventured to apply a fewtests to it, in an apparently casual way, to find out how far itsamendment had progressed. The results were happy, here and there, inspots--spots where Humphrey's tracks remained--and on the whole my lordwas greatly pleased and encouraged. So encouraged was he, indeed, thathe spoke up and said in a quite hopeful voice--

"Now am I persuaded that if your Majesty will but tax your memory yet alittle further, it will resolve the puzzle of the Great Seal--a losswhich was of moment yesterday, although of none to-day, since its term ofservice ended with our late lord's life. May it please your Grace to makethe trial?"

Tom was at sea--a Great Seal was something which he was totallyunacquainted with. After a moment's hesitation he looked up innocentlyand asked--

"What was it like, my lord?"

The Earl started, almost imperceptibly, muttering to himself, "Alack, hiswits are flown again!--it was ill wisdom to lead him on to strain them"--then he deftly turned the talk to other matters, with the purpose ofsweeping the unlucky seal out of Tom's thoughts--a purpose which easilysucceeded. 

Chapter XV. Tom as King. 

The next day the foreign ambassadors came, with their gorgeous trains;and Tom, throned in awful state, received them. The splendours of thescene delighted his eye and fired his imagination at first, but theaudience was long and dreary, and so were most of the addresses--wherefore, what began as a pleasure grew into weariness and home-sicknessby-and-by. Tom said the words which Hertford put into his mouth fromtime to time, and tried hard to acquit himself satisfactorily, but he wastoo new to such things, and too ill at ease to accomplish more than atolerable success. He looked sufficiently like a king, but he was illable to feel like one. He was cordially glad when the ceremony wasended. 

The larger part of his day was 'wasted'--as he termed it, in his ownmind--in labours pertaining to his royal office. Even the two hoursdevoted to certain princely pastimes and recreations were rather a burdento him than otherwise, they were so fettered by restrictions andceremonious observances. However, he had a private hour with hiswhipping-boy which he counted clear gain, since he got both entertainmentand needful information out of it. 

The third day of Tom Canty's kingship came and went much as the othershad done, but there was a lifting of his cloud in one way--he felt lessuncomfortable than at first; he was getting a little used to hiscircumstances and surroundings; his chains still galled, but not all thetime; he found that the presence and homage of the great afflicted andembarrassed him less and less sharply with every hour that drifted overhis head. 

But for one single dread, he could have seen the fourth day approachwithout serious distress--the dining in public; it was to begin that day. There were greater matters in the programme--for on that day he wouldhave to preside at a council which would take his views and commandsconcerning the policy to be pursued toward various foreign nationsscattered far and near over the great globe; on that day, too, Hertfordwould be formally chosen to the grand office of Lord Protector; otherthings of note were appointed for that fourth day, also; but to Tom theywere all insignificant compared with the ordeal of dining all by himselfwith a multitude of curious eyes fastened upon him and a multitude ofmouths whispering comments upon his performance, --and upon his mistakes, if he should be so unlucky as to make any. 

Still, nothing could stop that fourth day, and so it came. It found poorTom low-spirited and absent-minded, and this mood continued; he could notshake it off. The ordinary duties of the morning dragged upon his hands, and wearied him. Once more he felt the sense of captivity heavy uponhim. 

Late in the forenoon he was in a large audience-chamber, conversing withthe Earl of Hertford and dully awaiting the striking of the hourappointed for a visit of ceremony from a considerable number of greatofficials and courtiers. 

After a little while, Tom, who had wandered to a window and becomeinterested in the life and movement of the great highway beyond thepalace gates--and not idly interested, but longing with all his heart totake part in person in its stir and freedom--saw the van of a hooting andshouting mob of disorderly men, women, and children of the lowest andpoorest degree approaching from up the road. 

"I would I knew what 'tis about!" he exclaimed, with all a boy'scuriosity in such happenings. 

"Thou art the King!" solemnly responded the Earl, with a reverence. "Have I your Grace's leave to act?"

"O blithely, yes! O gladly, yes!" exclaimed Tom excitedly, adding tohimself with a lively sense of satisfaction, "In truth, being a king isnot all dreariness--it hath its compensations and conveniences. "

The Earl called a page, and sent him to the captain of the guard with theorder--

"Let the mob be halted, and inquiry made concerning the occasion of itsmovement. By the King's command!"

A few seconds later a long rank of the royal guards, cased in flashingsteel, filed out at the gates and formed across the highway in front ofthe multitude. A messenger returned, to report that the crowd werefollowing a man, a woman, and a young girl to execution for crimescommitted against the peace and dignity of the realm. 

Death--and a violent death--for these poor unfortunates! The thoughtwrung Tom's heart-strings. The spirit of compassion took control of him, to the exclusion of all other considerations; he never thought of theoffended laws, or of the grief or loss which these three criminals hadinflicted upon their victims; he could think of nothing but the scaffoldand the grisly fate hanging over the heads of the condemned. His concernmade him even forget, for the moment, that he was but the false shadow ofa king, not the substance; and before he knew it he had blurted out thecommand--

"Bring them here!"

Then he blushed scarlet, and a sort of apology sprung to his lips; butobserving that his order had wrought no sort of surprise in the Earl orthe waiting page, he suppressed the words he was about to utter. Thepage, in the most matter-of-course way, made a profound obeisance andretired backwards out of the room to deliver the command. Tomexperienced a glow of pride and a renewed sense of the compensatingadvantages of the kingly office. He said to himself, "Truly it is likewhat I was used to feel when I read the old priest's tales, and didimagine mine own self a prince, giving law and command to all, saying 'Dothis, do that, ' whilst none durst offer let or hindrance to my will. "

Now the doors swung open; one high-sounding title after another wasannounced, the personages owning them followed, and the place was quicklyhalf-filled with noble folk and finery. But Tom was hardly conscious ofthe presence of these people, so wrought up was he and so intenselyabsorbed in that other and more interesting matter. He seated himselfabsently in his chair of state, and turned his eyes upon the door withmanifestations of impatient expectancy; seeing which, the company forboreto trouble him, and fell to chatting a mixture of public business andcourt gossip one with another. 

In a little while the measured tread of military men was heardapproaching, and the culprits entered the presence in charge of anunder-sheriff and escorted by a detail of the king's guard. The civilofficer knelt before Tom, then stood aside; the three doomed personsknelt, also, and remained so; the guard took position behind Tom's chair. Tom scanned the prisoners curiously. Something about the dress orappearance of the man had stirred a vague memory in him. "Methinks Ihave seen this man ere now . . . But the when or the where fail me. "--Such was Tom's thought. Just then the man glanced quickly up and quicklydropped his face again, not being able to endure the awful port ofsovereignty; but the one full glimpse of the face which Tom got wassufficient. He said to himself: "Now is the matter clear; this is thestranger that plucked Giles Witt out of the Thames, and saved his life, that windy, bitter, first day of the New Year--a brave good deed--pity hehath been doing baser ones and got himself in this sad case . . . I havenot forgot the day, neither the hour; by reason that an hour after, uponthe stroke of eleven, I did get a hiding by the hand of Gammer Cantywhich was of so goodly and admired severity that all that went before orfollowed after it were but fondlings and caresses by comparison. "

Tom now ordered that the woman and the girl be removed from the presencefor a little time; then addressed himself to the under-sheriff, saying--

"Good sir, what is this man's offence?"

The officer knelt, and answered--

"So please your Majesty, he hath taken the life of a subject by poison. "

Tom's compassion for the prisoner, and admiration of him as the daringrescuer of a drowning boy, experienced a most damaging shock. 

"The thing was proven upon him?" he asked. 

"Most clearly, sire. "

Tom sighed, and said--

"Take him away--he hath earned his death. 'Tis a pity, for he was abrave heart--na--na, I mean he hath the LOOK of it!"

The prisoner clasped his hands together with sudden energy, and wrungthem despairingly, at the same time appealing imploringly to the 'King'in broken and terrified phrases--

"O my lord the King, an' thou canst pity the lost, have pity upon me! Iam innocent--neither hath that wherewith I am charged been more than butlamely proved--yet I speak not of that; the judgment is gone forthagainst me and may not suffer alteration; yet in mine extremity I beg aboon, for my doom is more than I can bear. A grace, a grace, my lord theKing! in thy royal compassion grant my prayer--give commandment that I behanged!"

Tom was amazed. This was not the outcome he had looked for. 

"Odds my life, a strange BOON! Was it not the fate intended thee?"

"O good my liege, not so! It is ordered that I be BOILED ALIVE!"

The hideous surprise of these words almost made Tom spring from hischair. As soon as he could recover his wits he cried out--

"Have thy wish, poor soul! an' thou had poisoned a hundred men thoushouldst not suffer so miserable a death. "

The prisoner bowed his face to the ground and burst into passionateexpressions of gratitude--ending with--

"If ever thou shouldst know misfortune--which God forefend!--may thygoodness to me this day be remembered and requited!"

Tom turned to the Earl of Hertford, and said--

"My lord, is it believable that there was warrant for this man'sferocious doom?"

"It is the law, your Grace--for poisoners. In Germany coiners be boiledto death in OIL--not cast in of a sudden, but by a rope let down into theoil by degrees, and slowly; first the feet, then the legs, then--"

"O prithee no more, my lord, I cannot bear it!" cried Tom, covering hiseyes with his hands to shut out the picture. "I beseech your goodlordship that order be taken to change this law--oh, let no more poorcreatures be visited with its tortures. "

The Earl's face showed profound gratification, for he was a man ofmerciful and generous impulses--a thing not very common with his class inthat fierce age. He said--

"These your Grace's noble words have sealed its doom. History willremember it to the honour of your royal house. "

The under-sheriff was about to remove his prisoner; Tom gave him a signto wait; then he said--

"Good sir, I would look into this matter further. The man has said hisdeed was but lamely proved. Tell me what thou knowest. "

"If the King's grace please, it did appear upon the trial that this manentered into a house in the hamlet of Islington where one lay sick--threewitnesses say it was at ten of the clock in the morning, and two say itwas some minutes later--the sick man being alone at the time, andsleeping--and presently the man came forth again and went his way. Thesick man died within the hour, being torn with spasms and retchings. "

"Did any see the poison given? Was poison found?"

"Marry, no, my liege. "

"Then how doth one know there was poison given at all?"

"Please your Majesty, the doctors testified that none die with suchsymptoms but by poison. "

Weighty evidence, this, in that simple age. Tom recognised itsformidable nature, and said--

"The doctor knoweth his trade--belike they were right. The matter hathan ill-look for this poor man. "

"Yet was not this all, your Majesty; there is more and worse. Manytestified that a witch, since gone from the village, none know whither, did foretell, and speak it privately in their ears, that the sick manWOULD DIE BY POISON--and more, that a stranger would give it--a strangerwith brown hair and clothed in a worn and common garb; and surely thisprisoner doth answer woundily to the bill. Please your Majesty to givethe circumstance that solemn weight which is its due, seeing it wasFORETOLD. "

This was an argument of tremendous force in that superstitious day. Tomfelt that the thing was settled; if evidence was worth anything, thispoor fellow's guilt was proved. Still he offered the prisoner a chance, saying--

"If thou canst say aught in thy behalf, speak. "

"Nought that will avail, my King. I am innocent, yet cannot I make itappear. I have no friends, else might I show that I was not in Islingtonthat day; so also might I show that at that hour they name I was above aleague away, seeing I was at Wapping Old Stairs; yea more, my King, for Icould show, that whilst they say I was TAKING life, I was SAVING it. Adrowning boy--"

"Peace! Sheriff, name the day the deed was done!"

"At ten in the morning, or some minutes later, the first day of the NewYear, most illustrious--"

"Let the prisoner go free--it is the King's will!"

Another blush followed this unregal outburst, and he covered hisindecorum as well as he could by adding--

"It enrageth me that a man should be hanged upon such idle, hare-brainedevidence!"

A low buzz of admiration swept through the assemblage. It was notadmiration of the decree that had been delivered by Tom, for thepropriety or expediency of pardoning a convicted poisoner was a thingwhich few there would have felt justified in either admitting oradmiring--no, the admiration was for the intelligence and spirit whichTom had displayed. Some of the low-voiced remarks were to this effect--

"This is no mad king--he hath his wits sound. "

"How sanely he put his questions--how like his former natural self wasthis abrupt imperious disposal of the matter!"

"God be thanked, his infirmity is spent! This is no weakling, but aking. He hath borne himself like to his own father. "

The air being filled with applause, Tom's ear necessarily caught a littleof it. The effect which this had upon him was to put him greatly at hisease, and also to charge his system with very gratifying sensations. 

However, his juvenile curiosity soon rose superior to these pleasantthoughts and feelings; he was eager to know what sort of deadly mischiefthe woman and the little girl could have been about; so, by his command, the two terrified and sobbing creatures were brought before him. 

"What is it that these have done?" he inquired of the sheriff. 

"Please your Majesty, a black crime is charged upon them, and clearlyproven; wherefore the judges have decreed, according to the law, thatthey be hanged. They sold themselves to the devil--such is their crime. "

Tom shuddered. He had been taught to abhor people who did this wickedthing. Still, he was not going to deny himself the pleasure of feedinghis curiosity for all that; so he asked--

"Where was this done?--and when?"

"On a midnight in December, in a ruined church, your Majesty. "

Tom shuddered again. 

"Who was there present?"

"Only these two, your grace--and THAT OTHER. "

"Have these confessed?"

"Nay, not so, sire--they do deny it. "

"Then prithee, how was it known?"

"Certain witness did see them wending thither, good your Majesty; thisbred the suspicion, and dire effects have since confirmed and justifiedit. In particular, it is in evidence that through the wicked power soobtained, they did invoke and bring about a storm that wasted all theregion round about. Above forty witnesses have proved the storm; andsooth one might have had a thousand, for all had reason to remember it, sith all had suffered by it. "

"Certes this is a serious matter. " Tom turned this dark piece ofscoundrelism over in his mind a while, then asked--

"Suffered the woman also by the storm?"

Several old heads among the assemblage nodded their recognition of thewisdom of this question. The sheriff, however, saw nothing consequentialin the inquiry; he answered, with simple directness--

"Indeed did she, your Majesty, and most righteously, as all aver. Herhabitation was swept away, and herself and child left shelterless. "

"Methinks the power to do herself so ill a turn was dearly bought. Shehad been cheated, had she paid but a farthing for it; that she paid hersoul, and her child's, argueth that she is mad; if she is mad she knowethnot what she doth, therefore sinneth not. "

The elderly heads nodded recognition of Tom's wisdom once more, and oneindividual murmured, "An' the King be mad himself, according to report, then is it a madness of a sort that would improve the sanity of some Iwot of, if by the gentle providence of God they could but catch it. "

"What age hath the child?" asked Tom. 

"Nine years, please your Majesty. "

"By the law of England may a child enter into covenant and sell itself, my lord?" asked Tom, turning to a learned judge. 

"The law doth not permit a child to make or meddle in any weighty matter, good my liege, holding that its callow wit unfitteth it to cope with theriper wit and evil schemings of them that are its elders. The DEVIL maybuy a child, if he so choose, and the child agree thereto, but not anEnglishman--in this latter case the contract would be null and void. "

"It seemeth a rude unchristian thing, and ill contrived, that English lawdenieth privileges to Englishmen to waste them on the devil!" cried Tom, with honest heat. 

This novel view of the matter excited many smiles, and was stored away inmany heads to be repeated about the Court as evidence of Tom'soriginality as well as progress toward mental health. 

The elder culprit had ceased from sobbing, and was hanging upon Tom'swords with an excited interest and a growing hope. Tom noticed this, andit strongly inclined his sympathies toward her in her perilous andunfriended situation. Presently he asked--

"How wrought they to bring the storm?"

"BY PULLING OFF THEIR STOCKINGS, sire. "

This astonished Tom, and also fired his curiosity to fever heat. He said, eagerly--

"It is wonderful! Hath it always this dread effect?"

"Always, my liege--at least if the woman desire it, and utter the needfulwords, either in her mind or with her tongue. "

Tom turned to the woman, and said with impetuous zeal--

"Exert thy power--I would see a storm!"

There was a sudden paling of cheeks in the superstitious assemblage, anda general, though unexpressed, desire to get out of the place--all ofwhich was lost upon Tom, who was dead to everything but the proposedcataclysm. Seeing a puzzled and astonished look in the woman's face, headded, excitedly--

"Never fear--thou shalt be blameless. More--thou shalt go free--noneshall touch thee. Exert thy power. "

"Oh, my lord the King, I have it not--I have been falsely accused. "

"Thy fears stay thee. Be of good heart, thou shalt suffer no harm. Makea storm--it mattereth not how small a one--I require nought great orharmful, but indeed prefer the opposite--do this and thy life is spared--thou shalt go out free, with thy child, bearing the King's pardon, andsafe from hurt or malice from any in the realm. "

The woman prostrated herself, and protested, with tears, that she had nopower to do the miracle, else she would gladly win her child's lifealone, and be content to lose her own, if by obedience to the King'scommand so precious a grace might be acquired. 

Tom urged--the woman still adhered to her declarations. Finally he said--

"I think the woman hath said true. An' MY mother were in her place andgifted with the devil's functions, she had not stayed a moment to callher storms and lay the whole land in ruins, if the saving of my forfeitlife were the price she got! It is argument that other mothers are madein like mould. Thou art free, goodwife--thou and thy child--for I dothink thee innocent. NOW thou'st nought to fear, being pardoned--pulloff thy stockings!--an' thou canst make me a storm, thou shalt be rich!"

The redeemed creature was loud in her gratitude, and proceeded to obey, whilst Tom looked on with eager expectancy, a little marred byapprehension; the courtiers at the same time manifesting decideddiscomfort and uneasiness. The woman stripped her own feet and herlittle girl's also, and plainly did her best to reward the King'sgenerosity with an earthquake, but it was all a failure and adisappointment. Tom sighed, and said--

"There, good soul, trouble thyself no further, thy power is departed outof thee. Go thy way in peace; and if it return to thee at any time, forget me not, but fetch me a storm. " {13}

Chapter XVI. The State Dinner. 

The dinner hour drew near--yet strangely enough, the thought brought butslight discomfort to Tom, and hardly any terror. The morning'sexperiences had wonderfully built up his confidence; the poor littleash-cat was already more wonted to his strange garret, after four days'habit, than a mature person could have become in a full month. A child'sfacility in accommodating itself to circumstances was never morestrikingly illustrated. 

Let us privileged ones hurry to the great banqueting-room and have aglance at matters there whilst Tom is being made ready for the imposingoccasion. It is a spacious apartment, with gilded pillars and pilasters, and pictured walls and ceilings. At the door stand tall guards, as rigidas statues, dressed in rich and picturesque costumes, and bearinghalberds. In a high gallery which runs all around the place is a band ofmusicians and a packed company of citizens of both sexes, in brilliantattire. In the centre of the room, upon a raised platform, is Tom'stable. Now let the ancient chronicler speak:

"A gentleman enters the room bearing a rod, and along with him anotherbearing a tablecloth, which, after they have both kneeled three timeswith the utmost veneration, he spreads upon the table, and after kneelingagain they both retire; then come two others, one with the rod again, theother with a salt-cellar, a plate, and bread; when they have kneeled asthe others had done, and placed what was brought upon the table, they tooretire with the same ceremonies performed by the first; at last come twonobles, richly clothed, one bearing a tasting-knife, who, afterprostrating themselves three times in the most graceful manner, approachand rub the table with bread and salt, with as much awe as if the Kinghad been present. " {6}

So end the solemn preliminaries. Now, far down the echoing corridors wehear a bugle-blast, and the indistinct cry, "Place for the King! Way forthe King's most excellent majesty!" These sounds are momently repeated--they grow nearer and nearer--and presently, almost in our faces, themartial note peals and the cry rings out, "Way for the King!" At thisinstant the shining pageant appears, and files in at the door, with ameasured march. Let the chronicler speak again:--

"First come Gentlemen, Barons, Earls, Knights of the Garter, all richlydressed and bareheaded; next comes the Chancellor, between two, one ofwhich carries the royal sceptre, the other the Sword of State in a redscabbard, studded with golden fleurs-de-lis, the point upwards; nextcomes the King himself--whom, upon his appearing, twelve trumpets andmany drums salute with a great burst of welcome, whilst all in thegalleries rise in their places, crying 'God save the King!' After himcome nobles attached to his person, and on his right and left march hisguard of honour, his fifty Gentlemen Pensioners, with gilt battle-axes. "

This was all fine and pleasant. Tom's pulse beat high, and a glad lightwas in his eye. He bore himself right gracefully, and all the more sobecause he was not thinking of how he was doing it, his mind beingcharmed and occupied with the blithe sights and sounds about him--andbesides, nobody can be very ungraceful in nicely-fitting beautifulclothes after he has grown a little used to them--especially if he is forthe moment unconscious of them. Tom remembered his instructions, andacknowledged his greeting with a slight inclination of his plumed head, and a courteous "I thank ye, my good people. "

He seated himself at table, without removing his cap; and did it withoutthe least embarrassment; for to eat with one's cap on was the onesolitary royal custom upon which the kings and the Cantys met upon commonground, neither party having any advantage over the other in the matterof old familiarity with it. The pageant broke up and grouped itselfpicturesquely, and remained bareheaded. 

Now to the sound of gay music the Yeomen of the Guard entered, --"thetallest and mightiest men in England, they being carefully selected inthis regard, "--but we will let the chronicler tell about it:--

"The Yeomen of the Guard entered, bareheaded, clothed in scarlet, withgolden roses upon their backs; and these went and came, bringing in eachturn a course of dishes, served in plate. These dishes were received bya gentleman in the same order they were brought, and placed upon thetable, while the taster gave to each guard a mouthful to eat of theparticular dish he had brought, for fear of any poison. "

Tom made a good dinner, notwithstanding he was conscious that hundreds ofeyes followed each morsel to his mouth and watched him eat it with aninterest which could not have been more intense if it had been a deadlyexplosive and was expected to blow him up and scatter him all about theplace. He was careful not to hurry, and equally careful not to doanything whatever for himself, but wait till the proper official kneltdown and did it for him. He got through without a mistake--flawless andprecious triumph. 

When the meal was over at last and he marched away in the midst of hisbright pageant, with the happy noises in his ears of blaring bugles, rolling drums, and thundering acclamations, he felt that if he had seenthe worst of dining in public it was an ordeal which he would be glad toendure several times a day if by that means he could but buy himself freefrom some of the more formidable requirements of his royal office. 

Chapter XVII. Foo-foo the First. 

Miles Hendon hurried along toward the Southwark end of the bridge, keeping a sharp look-out for the persons he sought, and hoping andexpecting to overtake them presently. He was disappointed in this, however. By asking questions, he was enabled to track them part of theway through Southwark; then all traces ceased, and he was perplexed as tohow to proceed. Still, he continued his efforts as best he could duringthe rest of the day. Nightfall found him leg-weary, half-famished, andhis desire as far from accomplishment as ever; so he supped at the TabardInn and went to bed, resolved to make an early start in the morning, andgive the town an exhaustive search. As he lay thinking and planning, hepresently began to reason thus: The boy would escape from the ruffian, his reputed father, if possible; would he go back to London and seek hisformer haunts? No, he would not do that, he would avoid recapture. What, then, would he do? Never having had a friend in the world, or aprotector, until he met Miles Hendon, he would naturally try to find thatfriend again, provided the effort did not require him to go toward Londonand danger. He would strike for Hendon Hall, that is what he would do, for he knew Hendon was homeward bound and there he might expect to findhim. Yes, the case was plain to Hendon--he must lose no more time inSouthwark, but move at once through Kent, toward Monk's Holm, searchingthe wood and inquiring as he went. Let us return to the vanished littleKing now. 

The ruffian whom the waiter at the inn on the bridge saw 'about to join'the youth and the King did not exactly join them, but fell in closebehind them and followed their steps. He said nothing. His left arm wasin a sling, and he wore a large green patch over his left eye; he limpedslightly, and used an oaken staff as a support. The youth led the King acrooked course through Southwark, and by-and-by struck into the high roadbeyond. The King was irritated, now, and said he would stop here--it wasHendon's place to come to him, not his to go to Hendon. He would notendure such insolence; he would stop where he was. The youth said--

"Thou'lt tarry here, and thy friend lying wounded in the wood yonder? Sobe it, then. "

The King's manner changed at once. He cried out--

"Wounded? And who hath dared to do it? But that is apart; lead on, leadon! Faster, sirrah! Art shod with lead? Wounded, is he? Now thoughthe doer of it be a duke's son he shall rue it!"

It was some distance to the wood, but the space was speedily traversed. The youth looked about him, discovered a bough sticking in the ground, with a small bit of rag tied to it, then led the way into the forest, watching for similar boughs and finding them at intervals; they wereevidently guides to the point he was aiming at. By-and-by an open placewas reached, where were the charred remains of a farm-house, and nearthem a barn which was falling to ruin and decay. There was no sign oflife anywhere, and utter silence prevailed. The youth entered the barn, the King following eagerly upon his heels. No one there! The King shot asurprised and suspicious glance at the youth, and asked--

"Where is he?"

A mocking laugh was his answer. The King was in a rage in a moment; heseized a billet of wood and was in the act of charging upon the youthwhen another mocking laugh fell upon his ear. It was from the lameruffian who had been following at a distance. The King turned and saidangrily--

"Who art thou? What is thy business here?"

"Leave thy foolery, " said the man, "and quiet thyself. My disguise isnone so good that thou canst pretend thou knowest not thy father throughit. "

"Thou art not my father. I know thee not. I am the King. If thou hasthid my servant, find him for me, or thou shalt sup sorrow for what thouhast done. "

John Canty replied, in a stern and measured voice--

"It is plain thou art mad, and I am loath to punish thee; but if thouprovoke me, I must. Thy prating doth no harm here, where there are noears that need to mind thy follies; yet it is well to practise thy tongueto wary speech, that it may do no hurt when our quarters change. I havedone a murder, and may not tarry at home--neither shalt thou, seeing Ineed thy service. My name is changed, for wise reasons; it is Hobbs--John Hobbs; thine is Jack--charge thy memory accordingly. Now, then, speak. Where is thy mother? Where are thy sisters? They came not tothe place appointed--knowest thou whither they went?"

The King answered sullenly--

"Trouble me not with these riddles. My mother is dead; my sisters are inthe palace. "

The youth near by burst into a derisive laugh, and the King would haveassaulted him, but Canty--or Hobbs, as he now called himself--preventedhim, and said--

"Peace, Hugo, vex him not; his mind is astray, and thy ways fret him. Sit thee down, Jack, and quiet thyself; thou shalt have a morsel to eat, anon. "

Hobbs and Hugo fell to talking together, in low voices, and the Kingremoved himself as far as he could from their disagreeable company. Hewithdrew into the twilight of the farther end of the barn, where he foundthe earthen floor bedded a foot deep with straw. He lay down here, drewstraw over himself in lieu of blankets, and was soon absorbed inthinking. He had many griefs, but the minor ones were swept almost intoforgetfulness by the supreme one, the loss of his father. To the rest ofthe world the name of Henry VIII. Brought a shiver, and suggested an ogrewhose nostrils breathed destruction and whose hand dealt scourgings anddeath; but to this boy the name brought only sensations of pleasure; thefigure it invoked wore a countenance that was all gentleness andaffection. He called to mind a long succession of loving passagesbetween his father and himself, and dwelt fondly upon them, his unstintedtears attesting how deep and real was the grief that possessed his heart. As the afternoon wasted away, the lad, wearied with his troubles, sankgradually into a tranquil and healing slumber. 

After a considerable time--he could not tell how long--his sensesstruggled to a half-consciousness, and as he lay with closed eyes vaguelywondering where he was and what had been happening, he noted a murmuroussound, the sullen beating of rain upon the roof. A snug sense of comfortstole over him, which was rudely broken, the next moment, by a chorus ofpiping cackles and coarse laughter. It startled him disagreeably, and heunmuffled his head to see whence this interruption proceeded. A grim andunsightly picture met his eye. A bright fire was burning in the middleof the floor, at the other end of the barn; and around it, and litweirdly up by the red glare, lolled and sprawled the motliest company oftattered gutter-scum and ruffians, of both sexes, he had ever read ordreamed of. There were huge stalwart men, brown with exposure, long-haired, and clothed in fantastic rags; there were middle-sizedyouths, of truculent countenance, and similarly clad; there were blindmendicants, with patched or bandaged eyes; crippled ones, with woodenlegs and crutches; diseased ones, with running sores peeping fromineffectual wrappings; there was a villain-looking pedlar with his pack;a knife-grinder, a tinker, and a barber-surgeon, with the implements oftheir trades; some of the females were hardly-grown girls, some were atprime, some were old and wrinkled hags, and all were loud, brazen, foul-mouthed; and all soiled and slatternly; there were three sore-facedbabies; there were a couple of starveling curs, with strings about theirnecks, whose office was to lead the blind. 

The night was come, the gang had just finished feasting, an orgy wasbeginning; the can of liquor was passing from mouth to mouth. A generalcry broke forth--

"A song! a song from the Bat and Dick and Dot-and-go-One!"

One of the blind men got up, and made ready by casting aside the patchesthat sheltered his excellent eyes, and the pathetic placard which recitedthe cause of his calamity. Dot-and-go-One disencumbered himself of histimber leg and took his place, upon sound and healthy limbs, beside hisfellow-rascal; then they roared out a rollicking ditty, and werereinforced by the whole crew, at the end of each stanza, in a rousingchorus. By the time the last stanza was reached, the half-drunkenenthusiasm had risen to such a pitch, that everybody joined in and sangit clear through from the beginning, producing a volume of villainoussound that made the rafters quake. These were the inspiring words:--

'Bien Darkman's then, Bouse Mort and Ken, The bien Coves bings awast, OnChates to trine by Rome Coves dine For his long lib at last. Bing'd outbien Morts and toure, and toure, Bing out of the Rome vile bine, Andtoure the Cove that cloy'd your duds, Upon the Chates to trine. ' (From'The English Rogue. ' London, 1665. )

Conversation followed; not in the thieves' dialect of the song, for thatwas only used in talk when unfriendly ears might be listening. In thecourse of it, it appeared that 'John Hobbs' was not altogether a newrecruit, but had trained in the gang at some former time. His laterhistory was called for, and when he said he had 'accidentally' killed aman, considerable satisfaction was expressed; when he added that the manwas a priest, he was roundly applauded, and had to take a drink witheverybody. Old acquaintances welcomed him joyously, and new ones wereproud to shake him by the hand. He was asked why he had 'tarried away somany months. ' He answered--

"London is better than the country, and safer, these late years, the lawsbe so bitter and so diligently enforced. An' I had not had thataccident, I had stayed there. I had resolved to stay, and never moreventure country-wards--but the accident has ended that. "

He inquired how many persons the gang numbered now. The 'ruffler, ' orchief, answered--

"Five and twenty sturdy budges, bulks, files, clapperdogeons andmaunders, counting the dells and doxies and other morts. {7} Most arehere, the rest are wandering eastward, along the winter lay. We follow atdawn. "

"I do not see the Wen among the honest folk about me. Where may he be?"

"Poor lad, his diet is brimstone, now, and over hot for a delicate taste. He was killed in a brawl, somewhere about midsummer. "

"I sorrow to hear that; the Wen was a capable man, and brave. "

"That was he, truly. Black Bess, his dell, is of us yet, but absent onthe eastward tramp; a fine lass, of nice ways and orderly conduct, noneever seeing her drunk above four days in the seven. "

"She was ever strict--I remember it well--a goodly wench and worthy allcommendation. Her mother was more free and less particular; atroublesome and ugly-tempered beldame, but furnished with a wit above thecommon. "

"We lost her through it. Her gift of palmistry and other sorts offortune-telling begot for her at last a witch's name and fame. The lawroasted her to death at a slow fire. It did touch me to a sort oftenderness to see the gallant way she met her lot--cursing and revilingall the crowd that gaped and gazed around her, whilst the flames lickedupward toward her face and catched her thin locks and crackled about herold gray head--cursing them! why an' thou should'st live a thousand yearsthoud'st never hear so masterful a cursing. Alack, her art died withher. There be base and weakling imitations left, but no true blasphemy. "

The Ruffler sighed; the listeners sighed in sympathy; a generaldepression fell upon the company for a moment, for even hardened outcastslike these are not wholly dead to sentiment, but are able to feel afleeting sense of loss and affliction at wide intervals and underpeculiarly favouring circumstances--as in cases like to this, forinstance, when genius and culture depart and leave no heir. However, adeep drink all round soon restored the spirits of the mourners. 

"Have any others of our friends fared hardly?" asked Hobbs. 

"Some--yes. Particularly new comers--such as small husbandmen turnedshiftless and hungry upon the world because their farms were taken fromthem to be changed to sheep ranges. They begged, and were whipped at thecart's tail, naked from the girdle up, till the blood ran; then set inthe stocks to be pelted; they begged again, were whipped again, anddeprived of an ear; they begged a third time--poor devils, what elsecould they do?--and were branded on the cheek with a red-hot iron, thensold for slaves; they ran away, were hunted down, and hanged. 'Tis abrief tale, and quickly told. Others of us have fared less hardly. Standforth, Yokel, Burns, and Hodge--show your adornments!"

These stood up and stripped away some of their rags, exposing theirbacks, criss-crossed with ropy old welts left by the lash; one turned uphis hair and showed the place where a left ear had once been; anothershowed a brand upon his shoulder--the letter V--and a mutilated ear; thethird said--

"I am Yokel, once a farmer and prosperous, with loving wife and kids--nowam I somewhat different in estate and calling; and the wife and kids aregone; mayhap they are in heaven, mayhap in--in the other place--but thekindly God be thanked, they bide no more in ENGLAND! My good oldblameless mother strove to earn bread by nursing the sick; one of thesedied, the doctors knew not how, so my mother was burnt for a witch, whilst my babes looked on and wailed. English law!--up, all, with yourcups!--now all together and with a cheer!--drink to the merciful Englishlaw that delivered HER from the English hell! Thank you, mates, one andall. I begged, from house to house--I and the wife--bearing with us thehungry kids--but it was crime to be hungry in England--so they strippedus and lashed us through three towns. Drink ye all again to the mercifulEnglish law!--for its lash drank deep of my Mary's blood and its blesseddeliverance came quick. She lies there, in the potter's field, safe fromall harms. And the kids--well, whilst the law lashed me from town totown, they starved. Drink, lads--only a drop--a drop to the poor kids, that never did any creature harm. I begged again--begged, for a crust, and got the stocks and lost an ear--see, here bides the stump; I beggedagain, and here is the stump of the other to keep me minded of it. Andstill I begged again, and was sold for a slave--here on my cheek underthis stain, if I washed it off, ye might see the red S the branding-ironleft there! A SLAVE! Do you understand that word? An English SLAVE!--that is he that stands before ye. I have run from my master, and when Iam found--the heavy curse of heaven fall on the law of the land that hathcommanded it!--I shall hang!" {1}

A ringing voice came through the murky air--

"Thou shalt NOT!--and this day the end of that law is come!"

All turned, and saw the fantastic figure of the little King approachinghurriedly; as it emerged into the light and was clearly revealed, ageneral explosion of inquiries broke out--

"Who is it? WHAT is it? Who art thou, manikin?"

The boy stood unconfused in the midst of all those surprised andquestioning eyes, and answered with princely dignity--

"I am Edward, King of England. "

A wild burst of laughter followed, partly of derision and partly ofdelight in the excellence of the joke. The King was stung. He saidsharply--

"Ye mannerless vagrants, is this your recognition of the royal boon Ihave promised?"

He said more, with angry voice and excited gesture, but it was lost in awhirlwind of laughter and mocking exclamations. 'John Hobbs' madeseveral attempts to make himself heard above the din, and at lastsucceeded--saying--

"Mates, he is my son, a dreamer, a fool, and stark mad--mind him not--hethinketh he IS the King. "

"I AM the King, " said Edward, turning toward him, "as thou shalt know tothy cost, in good time. Thou hast confessed a murder--thou shalt swingfor it. "

"THOU'LT betray me?--THOU? An' I get my hands upon thee--"

"Tut-tut!" said the burley Ruffler, interposing in time to save the King, and emphasising this service by knocking Hobbs down with his fist, "hastrespect for neither Kings NOR Rufflers? An' thou insult my presence soagain, I'll hang thee up myself. " Then he said to his Majesty, "Thoumust make no threats against thy mates, lad; and thou must guard thytongue from saying evil of them elsewhere. BE King, if it please thy madhumour, but be not harmful in it. Sink the title thou hast uttered--'tistreason; we be bad men in some few trifling ways, but none among us is sobase as to be traitor to his King; we be loving and loyal hearts, in thatregard. Note if I speak truth. Now--all together: 'Long live Edward, King of England!'"

"LONG LIVE EDWARD, KING OF ENGLAND!"

The response came with such a thundergust from the motley crew that thecrazy building vibrated to the sound. The little King's face lightedwith pleasure for an instant, and he slightly inclined his head, and saidwith grave simplicity--

"I thank you, my good people. "

This unexpected result threw the company into convulsions of merriment. When something like quiet was presently come again, the Ruffler said, firmly, but with an accent of good nature--

"Drop it, boy, 'tis not wise, nor well. Humour thy fancy, if thou must, but choose some other title. "

A tinker shrieked out a suggestion--

"Foo-foo the First, King of the Mooncalves!"

The title 'took, ' at once, every throat responded, and a roaring shoutwent up, of--

"Long live Foo-foo the First, King of the Mooncalves!" followed byhootings, cat-calls, and peals of laughter. 

"Hale him forth, and crown him!"

"Robe him!"

"Sceptre him!"

"Throne him!"

These and twenty other cries broke out at once! and almost before thepoor little victim could draw a breath he was crowned with a tin basin, robed in a tattered blanket, throned upon a barrel, and sceptred with thetinker's soldering-iron. Then all flung themselves upon their kneesabout him and sent up a chorus of ironical wailings, and mockingsupplications, whilst they swabbed their eyes with their soiled andragged sleeves and aprons--

"Be gracious to us, O sweet King!"

"Trample not upon thy beseeching worms, O noble Majesty!"

"Pity thy slaves, and comfort them with a royal kick!"

"Cheer us and warm us with thy gracious rays, O flaming sun ofsovereignty!"

"Sanctify the ground with the touch of thy foot, that we may eat the dirtand be ennobled!"

"Deign to spit upon us, O Sire, that our children's children may tell ofthy princely condescension, and be proud and happy for ever!"

But the humorous tinker made the 'hit' of the evening and carried off thehonours. Kneeling, he pretended to kiss the King's foot, and wasindignantly spurned; whereupon he went about begging for a rag to pasteover the place upon his face which had been touched by the foot, sayingit must be preserved from contact with the vulgar air, and that he shouldmake his fortune by going on the highway and exposing it to view at therate of a hundred shillings a sight. He made himself so killingly funnythat he was the envy and admiration of the whole mangy rabble. 

Tears of shame and indignation stood in the little monarch's eyes; andthe thought in his heart was, "Had I offered them a deep wrong they couldnot be more cruel--yet have I proffered nought but to do them a kindness--and it is thus they use me for it!"

Chapter XVIII. The Prince with the tramps. 

The troop of vagabonds turned out at early dawn, and set forward on theirmarch. There was a lowering sky overhead, sloppy ground under foot, anda winter chill in the air. All gaiety was gone from the company; somewere sullen and silent, some were irritable and petulant, none weregentle-humoured, all were thirsty. 

The Ruffler put 'Jack' in Hugo's charge, with some brief instructions, and commanded John Canty to keep away from him and let him alone; he alsowarned Hugo not to be too rough with the lad. 

After a while the weather grew milder, and the clouds lifted somewhat. The troop ceased to shiver, and their spirits began to improve. Theygrew more and more cheerful, and finally began to chaff each other andinsult passengers along the highway. This showed that they were awakingto an appreciation of life and its joys once more. The dread in whichtheir sort was held was apparent in the fact that everybody gave them theroad, and took their ribald insolences meekly, without venturing to talkback. They snatched linen from the hedges, occasionally in full view ofthe owners, who made no protest, but only seemed grateful that they didnot take the hedges, too. 

By-and-by they invaded a small farmhouse and made themselves at homewhile the trembling farmer and his people swept the larder clean tofurnish a breakfast for them. They chucked the housewife and herdaughters under the chin whilst receiving the food from their hands, andmade coarse jests about them, accompanied with insulting epithets andbursts of horse-laughter. They threw bones and vegetables at the farmerand his sons, kept them dodging all the time, and applauded uproariouslywhen a good hit was made. They ended by buttering the head of one of thedaughters who resented some of their familiarities. When they took theirleave they threatened to come back and burn the house over the heads ofthe family if any report of their doings got to the ears of theauthorities. 

About noon, after a long and weary tramp, the gang came to a halt behinda hedge on the outskirts of a considerable village. An hour was allowedfor rest, then the crew scattered themselves abroad to enter the villageat different points to ply their various trades--'Jack' was sent withHugo. They wandered hither and thither for some time, Hugo watching foropportunities to do a stroke of business, but finding none--so he finallysaid--

"I see nought to steal; it is a paltry place. Wherefore we will beg. "

"WE, forsooth! Follow thy trade--it befits thee. But _I_ will not beg. "

"Thou'lt not beg!" exclaimed Hugo, eyeing the King with surprise. "Prithee, since when hast thou reformed?"

"What dost thou mean?"

"Mean? Hast thou not begged the streets of London all thy life?"

"I? Thou idiot!"

"Spare thy compliments--thy stock will last the longer. Thy father saysthou hast begged all thy days. Mayhap he lied. Peradventure you willeven make so bold as to SAY he lied, " scoffed Hugo. 

"Him YOU call my father? Yes, he lied. "

"Come, play not thy merry game of madman so far, mate; use it for thyamusement, not thy hurt. An' I tell him this, he will scorch thee finelyfor it. "

"Save thyself the trouble. I will tell him. "

"I like thy spirit, I do in truth; but I do not admire thy judgment. Bone-rackings and bastings be plenty enow in this life, without going outof one's way to invite them. But a truce to these matters; _I_ believeyour father. I doubt not he can lie; I doubt not he DOTH lie, uponoccasion, for the best of us do that; but there is no occasion here. Awise man does not waste so good a commodity as lying for nought. Butcome; sith it is thy humour to give over begging, wherewithal shall webusy ourselves? With robbing kitchens?"

The King said, impatiently--

"Have done with this folly--you weary me!"

Hugo replied, with temper--

"Now harkee, mate; you will not beg, you will not rob; so be it. But Iwill tell you what you WILL do. You will play decoy whilst _I_ beg. Refuse, an' you think you may venture!"

The King was about to reply contemptuously, when Hugo said, interrupting--

"Peace! Here comes one with a kindly face. Now will I fall down in afit. When the stranger runs to me, set you up a wail, and fall upon yourknees, seeming to weep; then cry out as all the devils of misery were inyour belly, and say, 'Oh, sir, it is my poor afflicted brother, and we befriendless; o' God's name cast through your merciful eyes one pitifullook upon a sick, forsaken, and most miserable wretch; bestow one littlepenny out of thy riches upon one smitten of God and ready to perish!'--and mind you, keep you ON wailing, and abate not till we bilk him of hispenny, else shall you rue it. "

Then immediately Hugo began to moan, and groan, and roll his eyes, andreel and totter about; and when the stranger was close at hand, down hesprawled before him, with a shriek, and began to writhe and wallow in thedirt, in seeming agony. 

"O, dear, O dear!" cried the benevolent stranger, "O poor soul, poorsoul, how he doth suffer! There--let me help thee up. "

"O noble sir, forbear, and God love you for a princely gentleman--but itgiveth me cruel pain to touch me when I am taken so. My brother therewill tell your worship how I am racked with anguish when these fits beupon me. A penny, dear sir, a penny, to buy a little food; then leave meto my sorrows. "

"A penny! thou shalt have three, thou hapless creature, "--and he fumbledin his pocket with nervous haste and got them out. "There, poor lad, takethem and most welcome. Now come hither, my boy, and help me carry thystricken brother to yon house, where--"

"I am not his brother, " said the King, interrupting. 

"What! not his brother?"

"Oh, hear him!" groaned Hugo, then privately ground his teeth. "He denieshis own brother--and he with one foot in the grave!"

"Boy, thou art indeed hard of heart, if this is thy brother. For shame!--and he scarce able to move hand or foot. If he is not thy brother, whois he, then?"

"A beggar and a thief! He has got your money and has picked your pocketlikewise. An' thou would'st do a healing miracle, lay thy staff over hisshoulders and trust Providence for the rest. "

But Hugo did not tarry for the miracle. In a moment he was up and offlike the wind, the gentleman following after and raising the hue and crylustily as he went. The King, breathing deep gratitude to Heaven for hisown release, fled in the opposite direction, and did not slacken his paceuntil he was out of harm's reach. He took the first road that offered, and soon put the village behind him. He hurried along, as briskly as hecould, during several hours, keeping a nervous watch over his shoulderfor pursuit; but his fears left him at last, and a grateful sense ofsecurity took their place. He recognised, now, that he was hungry, andalso very tired. So he halted at a farmhouse; but when he was about tospeak, he was cut short and driven rudely away. His clothes were againsthim. 

He wandered on, wounded and indignant, and was resolved to put himself inthe way of like treatment no more. But hunger is pride's master; so, asthe evening drew near, he made an attempt at another farmhouse; but herehe fared worse than before; for he was called hard names and was promisedarrest as a vagrant except he moved on promptly. 

The night came on, chilly and overcast; and still the footsore monarchlaboured slowly on. He was obliged to keep moving, for every time he satdown to rest he was soon penetrated to the bone with the cold. All hissensations and experiences, as he moved through the solemn gloom and theempty vastness of the night, were new and strange to him. At intervalshe heard voices approach, pass by, and fade into silence; and as he sawnothing more of the bodies they belonged to than a sort of formlessdrifting blur, there was something spectral and uncanny about it all thatmade him shudder. Occasionally he caught the twinkle of a light--alwaysfar away, apparently--almost in another world; if he heard the tinkle ofa sheep's bell, it was vague, distant, indistinct; the muffled lowing ofthe herds floated to him on the night wind in vanishing cadences, amournful sound; now and then came the complaining howl of a dog overviewless expanses of field and forest; all sounds were remote; they madethe little King feel that all life and activity were far removed fromhim, and that he stood solitary, companionless, in the centre of ameasureless solitude. 

He stumbled along, through the gruesome fascinations of this newexperience, startled occasionally by the soft rustling of the dry leavesoverhead, so like human whispers they seemed to sound; and by-and-by hecame suddenly upon the freckled light of a tin lantern near at hand. Hestepped back into the shadows and waited. The lantern stood by the opendoor of a barn. The King waited some time--there was no sound, andnobody stirring. He got so cold, standing still, and the hospitable barnlooked so enticing, that at last he resolved to risk everything andenter. He started swiftly and stealthily, and just as he was crossing thethreshold he heard voices behind him. He darted behind a cask, withinthe barn, and stooped down. Two farm-labourers came in, bringing thelantern with them, and fell to work, talking meanwhile. Whilst theymoved about with the light, the King made good use of his eyes and tookthe bearings of what seemed to be a good-sized stall at the further endof the place, purposing to grope his way to it when he should be left tohimself. He also noted the position of a pile of horse blankets, midwayof the route, with the intent to levy upon them for the service of thecrown of England for one night. 

By-and-by the men finished and went away, fastening the door behind themand taking the lantern with them. The shivering King made for theblankets, with as good speed as the darkness would allow; gathered themup, and then groped his way safely to the stall. Of two of the blanketshe made a bed, then covered himself with the remaining two. He was aglad monarch, now, though the blankets were old and thin, and not quitewarm enough; and besides gave out a pungent horsey odour that was almostsuffocatingly powerful. 

Although the King was hungry and chilly, he was also so tired andso drowsy that these latter influences soon began to get theadvantage of the former, and he presently dozed off into a state ofsemi-consciousness. Then, just as he was on the point of losing himselfwholly, he distinctly felt something touch him! He was broad awake in amoment, and gasping for breath. The cold horror of that mysterious touchin the dark almost made his heart stand still. He lay motionless, andlistened, scarcely breathing. But nothing stirred, and there was nosound. He continued to listen, and wait, during what seemed a long time, but still nothing stirred, and there was no sound. So he began to dropinto a drowse once more, at last; and all at once he felt that mysterioustouch again! It was a grisly thing, this light touch from this noiselessand invisible presence; it made the boy sick with ghostly fears. Whatshould he do? That was the question; but he did not know how to answerit. Should he leave these reasonably comfortable quarters and fly fromthis inscrutable horror? But fly whither? He could not get out of thebarn; and the idea of scurrying blindly hither and thither in the dark, within the captivity of the four walls, with this phantom gliding afterhim, and visiting him with that soft hideous touch upon cheek or shoulderat every turn, was intolerable. But to stay where he was, and endurethis living death all night--was that better? No. What, then, was thereleft to do? Ah, there was but one course; he knew it well--he must putout his hand and find that thing!

It was easy to think this; but it was hard to brace himself up to try it. Three times he stretched his hand a little way out into the dark, gingerly; and snatched it suddenly back, with a gasp--not because it hadencountered anything, but because he had felt so sure it was just GOINGto. But the fourth time, he groped a little further, and his handlightly swept against something soft and warm. This petrified him, nearly, with fright; his mind was in such a state that he could imaginethe thing to be nothing else than a corpse, newly dead and still warm. He thought he would rather die than touch it again. But he thought thisfalse thought because he did not know the immortal strength of humancuriosity. In no long time his hand was tremblingly groping again--against his judgment, and without his consent--but groping persistentlyon, just the same. It encountered a bunch of long hair; he shuddered, but followed up the hair and found what seemed to be a warm rope;followed up the rope and found an innocent calf!--for the rope was not arope at all, but the calf's tail. 

The King was cordially ashamed of himself for having gotten all thatfright and misery out of so paltry a matter as a slumbering calf; but heneed not have felt so about it, for it was not the calf that frightenedhim, but a dreadful non-existent something which the calf stood for; andany other boy, in those old superstitious times, would have acted andsuffered just as he had done. 

The King was not only delighted to find that the creature was only acalf, but delighted to have the calf's company; for he had been feelingso lonesome and friendless that the company and comradeship of even thishumble animal were welcome. And he had been so buffeted, so rudelyentreated by his own kind, that it was a real comfort to him to feel thathe was at last in the society of a fellow-creature that had at least asoft heart and a gentle spirit, whatever loftier attributes might belacking. So he resolved to waive rank and make friends with the calf. 

While stroking its sleek warm back--for it lay near him and within easyreach--it occurred to him that this calf might be utilised in more waysthan one. Whereupon he re-arranged his bed, spreading it down close tothe calf; then he cuddled himself up to the calf's back, drew the coversup over himself and his friend, and in a minute or two was as warm andcomfortable as he had ever been in the downy couches of the regal palaceof Westminster. 

Pleasant thoughts came at once; life took on a cheerfuller seeming. Hewas free of the bonds of servitude and crime, free of the companionshipof base and brutal outlaws; he was warm; he was sheltered; in a word, hewas happy. The night wind was rising; it swept by in fitful gusts thatmade the old barn quake and rattle, then its forces died down atintervals, and went moaning and wailing around corners and projections--but it was all music to the King, now that he was snug and comfortable:let it blow and rage, let it batter and bang, let it moan and wail, heminded it not, he only enjoyed it. He merely snuggled the closer to hisfriend, in a luxury of warm contentment, and drifted blissfully out ofconsciousness into a deep and dreamless sleep that was full of serenityand peace. The distant dogs howled, the melancholy kine complained, andthe winds went on raging, whilst furious sheets of rain drove along theroof; but the Majesty of England slept on, undisturbed, and the calf didthe same, it being a simple creature, and not easily troubled by stormsor embarrassed by sleeping with a king. 

Chapter XIX. The Prince with the peasants. 

When the King awoke in the early morning, he found that a wet butthoughtful rat had crept into the place during the night and made a cosybed for itself in his bosom. Being disturbed now, it scampered away. The boy smiled, and said, "Poor fool, why so fearful? I am as forlorn asthou. 'Twould be a sham in me to hurt the helpless, who am myself sohelpless. Moreover, I owe you thanks for a good omen; for when a kinghas fallen so low that the very rats do make a bed of him, it surelymeaneth that his fortunes be upon the turn, since it is plain he can nolower go. "

He got up and stepped out of the stall, and just then he heard the soundof children's voices. The barn door opened and a couple of little girlscame in. As soon as they saw him their talking and laughing ceased, andthey stopped and stood still, gazing at him with strong curiosity; theypresently began to whisper together, then they approached nearer, andstopped again to gaze and whisper. By-and-by they gathered courage andbegan to discuss him aloud. One said--

"He hath a comely face. "

The other added--

"And pretty hair. "

"But is ill clothed enow. "

"And how starved he looketh. "

They came still nearer, sidling shyly around and about him, examining himminutely from all points, as if he were some strange new kind of animal, but warily and watchfully the while, as if they half feared he might be asort of animal that would bite, upon occasion. Finally they haltedbefore him, holding each other's hands for protection, and took a goodsatisfying stare with their innocent eyes; then one of them plucked upall her courage and inquired with honest directness--

"Who art thou, boy?"

"I am the King, " was the grave answer. 

The children gave a little start, and their eyes spread themselves wideopen and remained so during a speechless half minute. Then curiositybroke the silence--

"The KING? What King?"

"The King of England. "

The children looked at each other--then at him--then at each other again--wonderingly, perplexedly; then one said--

"Didst hear him, Margery?--he said he is the King. Can that be true?"

"How can it be else but true, Prissy? Would he say a lie? For look you, Prissy, an' it were not true, it WOULD be a lie. It surely would be. Now think on't. For all things that be not true, be lies--thou canstmake nought else out of it. "

It was a good tight argument, without a leak in it anywhere; and it leftPrissy's half-doubts not a leg to stand on. She considered a moment, then put the King upon his honour with the simple remark--

"If thou art truly the King, then I believe thee. "

"I am truly the King. "

This settled the matter. His Majesty's royalty was accepted withoutfurther question or discussion, and the two little girls began at once toinquire into how he came to be where he was, and how he came to be sounroyally clad, and whither he was bound, and all about his affairs. Itwas a mighty relief to him to pour out his troubles where they would notbe scoffed at or doubted; so he told his tale with feeling, forgettingeven his hunger for the time; and it was received with the deepest andtenderest sympathy by the gentle little maids. But when he got down tohis latest experiences and they learned how long he had been withoutfood, they cut him short and hurried him away to the farmhouse to find abreakfast for him. 

The King was cheerful and happy now, and said to himself, "When I am cometo mine own again, I will always honour little children, remembering howthat these trusted me and believed in me in my time of trouble; whilstthey that were older, and thought themselves wiser, mocked at me and heldme for a liar. "

The children's mother received the King kindly, and was full of pity; forhis forlorn condition and apparently crazed intellect touched her womanlyheart. She was a widow, and rather poor; consequently she had seentrouble enough to enable her to feel for the unfortunate. She imaginedthat the demented boy had wandered away from his friends or keepers; soshe tried to find out whence he had come, in order that she might takemeasures to return him; but all her references to neighbouring towns andvillages, and all her inquiries in the same line went for nothing--theboy's face, and his answers, too, showed that the things she was talkingof were not familiar to him. He spoke earnestly and simply about courtmatters, and broke down, more than once, when speaking of the late King'his father'; but whenever the conversation changed to baser topics, helost interest and became silent. 

The woman was mightily puzzled; but she did not give up. As sheproceeded with her cooking, she set herself to contriving devices tosurprise the boy into betraying his real secret. She talked aboutcattle--he showed no concern; then about sheep--the same result: so herguess that he had been a shepherd boy was an error; she talked aboutmills; and about weavers, tinkers, smiths, trades and tradesmen of allsorts; and about Bedlam, and jails, and charitable retreats: but nomatter, she was baffled at all points. Not altogether, either; for sheargued that she had narrowed the thing down to domestic service. Yes, she was sure she was on the right track, now; he must have been a houseservant. So she led up to that. But the result was discouraging. Thesubject of sweeping appeared to weary him; fire-building failed to stirhim; scrubbing and scouring awoke no enthusiasm. The goodwife touched, with a perishing hope, and rather as a matter of form, upon the subjectof cooking. To her surprise, and her vast delight, the King's facelighted at once! Ah, she had hunted him down at last, she thought; andshe was right proud, too, of the devious shrewdness and tact which hadaccomplished it. 

Her tired tongue got a chance to rest, now; for the King's, inspired bygnawing hunger and the fragrant smells that came from the sputtering potsand pans, turned itself loose and delivered itself up to such an eloquentdissertation upon certain toothsome dishes, that within three minutes thewoman said to herself, "Of a truth I was right--he hath holpen in akitchen!" Then he broadened his bill of fare, and discussed it with suchappreciation and animation, that the goodwife said to herself, "Goodlack! how can he know so many dishes, and so fine ones withal? For thesebelong only upon the tables of the rich and great. Ah, now I see! raggedoutcast as he is, he must have served in the palace before his reasonwent astray; yes, he must have helped in the very kitchen of the Kinghimself! I will test him. "

Full of eagerness to prove her sagacity, she told the King to mind thecooking a moment--hinting that he might manufacture and add a dish ortwo, if he chose; then she went out of the room and gave her children asign to follow after. The King muttered--

"Another English king had a commission like to this, in a bygone time--itis nothing against my dignity to undertake an office which the greatAlfred stooped to assume. But I will try to better serve my trust thanhe; for he let the cakes burn. "

The intent was good, but the performance was not answerable to it, forthis King, like the other one, soon fell into deep thinkings concerninghis vast affairs, and the same calamity resulted--the cookery got burned. The woman returned in time to save the breakfast from entire destruction;and she promptly brought the King out of his dreams with a brisk andcordial tongue-lashing. Then, seeing how troubled he was over hisviolated trust, she softened at once, and was all goodness and gentlenesstoward him. 

The boy made a hearty and satisfying meal, and was greatly refreshed andgladdened by it. It was a meal which was distinguished by this curiousfeature, that rank was waived on both sides; yet neither recipient of thefavour was aware that it had been extended. The goodwife had intended tofeed this young tramp with broken victuals in a corner, like any othertramp or like a dog; but she was so remorseful for the scolding she hadgiven him, that she did what she could to atone for it by allowing him tosit at the family table and eat with his betters, on ostensible terms ofequality with them; and the King, on his side, was so remorseful forhaving broken his trust, after the family had been so kind to him, thathe forced himself to atone for it by humbling himself to the familylevel, instead of requiring the woman and her children to stand and waitupon him, while he occupied their table in the solitary state due to hisbirth and dignity. It does us all good to unbend sometimes. This goodwoman was made happy all the day long by the applauses which she got outof herself for her magnanimous condescension to a tramp; and the King wasjust as self-complacent over his gracious humility toward a humblepeasant woman. 

When breakfast was over, the housewife told the King to wash up thedishes. This command was a staggerer, for a moment, and the King camenear rebelling; but then he said to himself, "Alfred the Great watchedthe cakes; doubtless he would have washed the dishes too--therefore willI essay it. "

He made a sufficiently poor job of it; and to his surprise too, for thecleaning of wooden spoons and trenchers had seemed an easy thing to do. It was a tedious and troublesome piece of work, but he finished it atlast. He was becoming impatient to get away on his journey now; however, he was not to lose this thrifty dame's society so easily. She furnishedhim some little odds and ends of employment, which he got through withafter a fair fashion and with some credit. Then she set him and thelittle girls to paring some winter apples; but he was so awkward at thisservice that she retired him from it and gave him a butcher knife togrind. Afterwards she kept him carding wool until he began to think hehad laid the good King Alfred about far enough in the shade for thepresent in the matter of showy menial heroisms that would readpicturesquely in story-books and histories, and so he was half-minded toresign. And when, just after the noonday dinner, the goodwife gave him abasket of kittens to drown, he did resign. At least he was just going toresign--for he felt that he must draw the line somewhere, and it seemedto him that to draw it at kitten-drowning was about the right thing--whenthere was an interruption. The interruption was John Canty--with apeddler's pack on his back--and Hugo. 

The King discovered these rascals approaching the front gate before theyhad had a chance to see him; so he said nothing about drawing the line, but took up his basket of kittens and stepped quietly out the back way, without a word. He left the creatures in an out-house, and hurried on, into a narrow lane at the rear. 

Chapter XX. The Prince and the hermit. 

The high hedge hid him from the house, now; and so, under the impulse ofa deadly fright, he let out all his forces and sped toward a wood in thedistance. He never looked back until he had almost gained the shelter ofthe forest; then he turned and descried two figures in the distance. That was sufficient; he did not wait to scan them critically, but hurriedon, and never abated his pace till he was far within the twilight depthsof the wood. Then he stopped; being persuaded that he was now tolerablysafe. He listened intently, but the stillness was profound and solemn--awful, even, and depressing to the spirits. At wide intervals hisstraining ear did detect sounds, but they were so remote, and hollow, andmysterious, that they seemed not to be real sounds, but only the moaningand complaining ghosts of departed ones. So the sounds were yet moredreary than the silence which they interrupted. 

It was his purpose, in the beginning, to stay where he was the rest ofthe day; but a chill soon invaded his perspiring body, and he was at lastobliged to resume movement in order to get warm. He struck straightthrough the forest, hoping to pierce to a road presently, but he wasdisappointed in this. He travelled on and on; but the farther he went, the denser the wood became, apparently. The gloom began to thicken, by-and-by, and the King realised that the night was coming on. It madehim shudder to think of spending it in such an uncanny place; so he triedto hurry faster, but he only made the less speed, for he could not nowsee well enough to choose his steps judiciously; consequently he kepttripping over roots and tangling himself in vines and briers. 

And how glad he was when at last he caught the glimmer of a light! Heapproached it warily, stopping often to look about him and listen. Itcame from an unglazed window-opening in a shabby little hut. He heard avoice, now, and felt a disposition to run and hide; but he changed hismind at once, for this voice was praying, evidently. He glided to theone window of the hut, raised himself on tiptoe, and stole a glancewithin. The room was small; its floor was the natural earth, beaten hardby use; in a corner was a bed of rushes and a ragged blanket or two; nearit was a pail, a cup, a basin, and two or three pots and pans; there wasa short bench and a three-legged stool; on the hearth the remains of afaggot fire were smouldering; before a shrine, which was lighted by asingle candle, knelt an aged man, and on an old wooden box at his sidelay an open book and a human skull. The man was of large, bony frame;his hair and whiskers were very long and snowy white; he was clothed in arobe of sheepskins which reached from his neck to his heels. 

"A holy hermit!" said the King to himself; "now am I indeed fortunate. "

The hermit rose from his knees; the King knocked. A deep voiceresponded--

"Enter!--but leave sin behind, for the ground whereon thou shalt stand isholy!"

The King entered, and paused. The hermit turned a pair of gleaming, unrestful eyes upon him, and said--

"Who art thou?"

"I am the King, " came the answer, with placid simplicity. 

"Welcome, King!" cried the hermit, with enthusiasm. Then, bustling aboutwith feverish activity, and constantly saying, "Welcome, welcome, " hearranged his bench, seated the King on it, by the hearth, threw somefaggots on the fire, and finally fell to pacing the floor with a nervousstride. 

"Welcome! Many have sought sanctuary here, but they were not worthy, andwere turned away. But a King who casts his crown away, and despises thevain splendours of his office, and clothes his body in rags, to devotehis life to holiness and the mortification of the flesh--he is worthy, heis welcome!--here shall he abide all his days till death come. " The Kinghastened to interrupt and explain, but the hermit paid no attention tohim--did not even hear him, apparently, but went right on with his talk, with a raised voice and a growing energy. "And thou shalt be at peacehere. None shall find out thy refuge to disquiet thee with supplicationsto return to that empty and foolish life which God hath moved thee toabandon. Thou shalt pray here; thou shalt study the Book; thou shaltmeditate upon the follies and delusions of this world, and upon thesublimities of the world to come; thou shalt feed upon crusts and herbs, and scourge thy body with whips, daily, to the purifying of thy soul. Thou shalt wear a hair shirt next thy skin; thou shalt drink water only;and thou shalt be at peace; yes, wholly at peace; for whoso comes to seekthee shall go his way again, baffled; he shall not find thee, he shallnot molest thee. "

The old man, still pacing back and forth, ceased to speak aloud, andbegan to mutter. The King seized this opportunity to state his case; andhe did it with an eloquence inspired by uneasiness and apprehension. Butthe hermit went on muttering, and gave no heed. And still muttering, heapproached the King and said impressively--

"'Sh! I will tell you a secret!" He bent down to impart it, but checkedhimself, and assumed a listening attitude. After a moment or two he wenton tiptoe to the window-opening, put his head out, and peered around inthe gloaming, then came tiptoeing back again, put his face close down tothe King's, and whispered--

"I am an archangel!"

The King started violently, and said to himself, "Would God I were withthe outlaws again; for lo, now am I the prisoner of a madman!" Hisapprehensions were heightened, and they showed plainly in his face. In alow excited voice the hermit continued--

"I see you feel my atmosphere! There's awe in your face! None may be inthis atmosphere and not be thus affected; for it is the very atmosphereof heaven. I go thither and return, in the twinkling of an eye. I wasmade an archangel on this very spot, it is five years ago, by angels sentfrom heaven to confer that awful dignity. Their presence filled thisplace with an intolerable brightness. And they knelt to me, King! yes, they knelt to me! for I was greater than they. I have walked in thecourts of heaven, and held speech with the patriarchs. Touch my hand--benot afraid--touch it. There--now thou hast touched a hand which has beenclasped by Abraham and Isaac and Jacob! For I have walked in the goldencourts; I have seen the Deity face to face!" He paused, to give thisspeech effect; then his face suddenly changed, and he started to his feetagain saying, with angry energy, "Yes, I am an archangel; A MEREARCHANGEL!--I that might have been pope! It is verily true. I was toldit from heaven in a dream, twenty years ago; ah, yes, I was to be pope!--and I SHOULD have been pope, for Heaven had said it--but the Kingdissolved my religious house, and I, poor obscure unfriended monk, wascast homeless upon the world, robbed of my mighty destiny!" Here he beganto mumble again, and beat his forehead in futile rage, with his fist; nowand then articulating a venomous curse, and now and then a pathetic"Wherefore I am nought but an archangel--I that should have been pope!"

So he went on, for an hour, whilst the poor little King sat and suffered. Then all at once the old man's frenzy departed, and he became allgentleness. His voice softened, he came down out of his clouds, and fellto prattling along so simply and so humanly, that he soon won the King'sheart completely. The old devotee moved the boy nearer to the fire andmade him comfortable; doctored his small bruises and abrasions with adeft and tender hand; and then set about preparing and cooking a supper--chatting pleasantly all the time, and occasionally stroking the lad'scheek or patting his head, in such a gently caressing way that in alittle while all the fear and repulsion inspired by the archangel werechanged to reverence and affection for the man. 

This happy state of things continued while the two ate the supper; then, after a prayer before the shrine, the hermit put the boy to bed, in asmall adjoining room, tucking him in as snugly and lovingly as a mothermight; and so, with a parting caress, left him and sat down by the fire, and began to poke the brands about in an absent and aimless way. Presently he paused; then tapped his forehead several times with hisfingers, as if trying to recall some thought which had escaped from hismind. Apparently he was unsuccessful. Now he started quickly up, andentered his guest's room, and said--

"Thou art King?"

"Yes, " was the response, drowsily uttered. 

"What King?"

"Of England. "

"Of England? Then Henry is gone!"

"Alack, it is so. I am his son. "

A black frown settled down upon the hermit's face, and he clenched hisbony hands with a vindictive energy. He stood a few moments, breathingfast and swallowing repeatedly, then said in a husky voice--

"Dost know it was he that turned us out into the world houseless andhomeless?"

There was no response. The old man bent down and scanned the boy'sreposeful face and listened to his placid breathing. "He sleeps--sleepssoundly;" and the frown vanished away and gave place to an expression ofevil satisfaction. A smile flitted across the dreaming boy's features. The hermit muttered, "So--his heart is happy;" and he turned away. Hewent stealthily about the place, seeking here and there for something;now and then halting to listen, now and then jerking his head around andcasting a quick glance toward the bed; and always muttering, alwaysmumbling to himself. At last he found what he seemed to want--a rustyold butcher knife and a whetstone. Then he crept to his place by thefire, sat himself down, and began to whet the knife softly on the stone, still muttering, mumbling, ejaculating. The winds sighed around thelonely place, the mysterious voices of the night floated by out of thedistances. The shining eyes of venturesome mice and rats peered out atthe old man from cracks and coverts, but he went on with his work, rapt, absorbed, and noted none of these things. 

At long intervals he drew his thumb along the edge of his knife, andnodded his head with satisfaction. "It grows sharper, " he said; "yes, itgrows sharper. "

He took no note of the flight of time, but worked tranquilly on, entertaining himself with his thoughts, which broke out occasionally inarticulate speech--

"His father wrought us evil, he destroyed us--and is gone down into theeternal fires! Yes, down into the eternal fires! He escaped us--but itwas God's will, yes it was God's will, we must not repine. But he hathnot escaped the fires! No, he hath not escaped the fires, the consuming, unpitying, remorseless fires--and THEY are everlasting!"

And so he wrought, and still wrought--mumbling, chuckling a low raspingchuckle at times--and at times breaking again into words--

"It was his father that did it all. I am but an archangel; but for him Ishould be pope!"

The King stirred. The hermit sprang noiselessly to the bedside, and wentdown upon his knees, bending over the prostrate form with his knifeuplifted. The boy stirred again; his eyes came open for an instant, butthere was no speculation in them, they saw nothing; the next moment histranquil breathing showed that his sleep was sound once more. 

The hermit watched and listened, for a time, keeping his position andscarcely breathing; then he slowly lowered his arms, and presently creptaway, saying, --

"It is long past midnight; it is not best that he should cry out, lest byaccident someone be passing. "

He glided about his hovel, gathering a rag here, a thong there, andanother one yonder; then he returned, and by careful and gentle handlinghe managed to tie the King's ankles together without waking him. Next heessayed to tie the wrists; he made several attempts to cross them, butthe boy always drew one hand or the other away, just as the cord wasready to be applied; but at last, when the archangel was almost ready todespair, the boy crossed his hands himself, and the next moment they werebound. Now a bandage was passed under the sleeper's chin and brought upover his head and tied fast--and so softly, so gradually, and so deftlywere the knots drawn together and compacted, that the boy sleptpeacefully through it all without stirring. 

Chapter XXI. Hendon to the rescue. 

The old man glided away, stooping, stealthy, cat-like, and brought thelow bench. He seated himself upon it, half his body in the dim andflickering light, and the other half in shadow; and so, with his cravingeyes bent upon the slumbering boy, he kept his patient vigil there, heedless of the drift of time, and softly whetted his knife, and mumbledand chuckled; and in aspect and attitude he resembled nothing so much asa grizzly, monstrous spider, gloating over some hapless insect that laybound and helpless in his web. 

After a long while, the old man, who was still gazing, --yet not seeing, his mind having settled into a dreamy abstraction, --observed, on asudden, that the boy's eyes were open! wide open and staring!--staring upin frozen horror at the knife. The smile of a gratified devil crept overthe old man's face, and he said, without changing his attitude or hisoccupation--

"Son of Henry the Eighth, hast thou prayed?"

The boy struggled helplessly in his bonds, and at the same time forced asmothered sound through his closed jaws, which the hermit chose tointerpret as an affirmative answer to his question. 

"Then pray again. Pray the prayer for the dying!"

A shudder shook the boy's frame, and his face blenched. Then hestruggled again to free himself--turning and twisting himself this wayand that; tugging frantically, fiercely, desperately--but uselessly--toburst his fetters; and all the while the old ogre smiled down upon him, and nodded his head, and placidly whetted his knife; mumbling, from timeto time, "The moments are precious, they are few and precious--pray theprayer for the dying!"

The boy uttered a despairing groan, and ceased from his struggles, panting. The tears came, then, and trickled, one after the other, downhis face; but this piteous sight wrought no softening effect upon thesavage old man. 

The dawn was coming now; the hermit observed it, and spoke up sharply, with a touch of nervous apprehension in his voice--

"I may not indulge this ecstasy longer! The night is already gone. Itseems but a moment--only a moment; would it had endured a year! Seed ofthe Church's spoiler, close thy perishing eyes, an' thou fearest to lookupon--"

The rest was lost in inarticulate mutterings. The old man sank upon hisknees, his knife in his hand, and bent himself over the moaning boy. 

Hark! There was a sound of voices near the cabin--the knife dropped fromthe hermit's hand; he cast a sheepskin over the boy and started up, trembling. The sounds increased, and presently the voices became roughand angry; then came blows, and cries for help; then a clatter of swiftfootsteps, retreating. Immediately came a succession of thunderingknocks upon the cabin door, followed by--

"Hullo-o-o! Open! And despatch, in the name of all the devils!"

Oh, this was the blessedest sound that had ever made music in the King'sears; for it was Miles Hendon's voice!

The hermit, grinding his teeth in impotent rage, moved swiftly out of thebedchamber, closing the door behind him; and straightway the King heard atalk, to this effect, proceeding from the 'chapel':--

"Homage and greeting, reverend sir! Where is the boy--MY boy?"

"What boy, friend?"

"What boy! Lie me no lies, sir priest, play me no deceptions!--I am notin the humour for it. Near to this place I caught the scoundrels who Ijudged did steal him from me, and I made them confess; they said he wasat large again, and they had tracked him to your door. They showed mehis very footprints. Now palter no more; for look you, holy sir, an'thou produce him not--Where is the boy?"

"O good sir, peradventure you mean the ragged regal vagrant that tarriedhere the night. If such as you take an interest in such as he, know, then, that I have sent him of an errand. He will be back anon. "

"How soon? How soon? Come, waste not the time--cannot I overtake him?How soon will he be back?"

"Thou need'st not stir; he will return quickly. "

"So be it, then. I will try to wait. But stop!--YOU sent him of anerrand?--you! Verily this is a lie--he would not go. He would pull thyold beard, an' thou didst offer him such an insolence. Thou hast lied, friend; thou hast surely lied! He would not go for thee, nor for anyman. "

"For any MAN--no; haply not. But I am not a man. "

"WHAT! Now o' God's name what art thou, then?"

"It is a secret--mark thou reveal it not. I am an archangel!"

There was a tremendous ejaculation from Miles Hendon--not altogetherunprofane--followed by--

"This doth well and truly account for his complaisance! Right well Iknew he would budge nor hand nor foot in the menial service of anymortal; but, lord, even a king must obey when an archangel gives the wordo' command! Let me--'sh! What noise was that?"

All this while the little King had been yonder, alternately quaking withterror and trembling with hope; and all the while, too, he had thrown allthe strength he could into his anguished moanings, constantly expectingthem to reach Hendon's ear, but always realising, with bitterness, thatthey failed, or at least made no impression. So this last remark of hisservant came as comes a reviving breath from fresh fields to the dying;and he exerted himself once more, and with all his energy, just as thehermit was saying--

"Noise? I heard only the wind. "

"Mayhap it was. Yes, doubtless that was it. I have been hearing itfaintly all the--there it is again! It is not the wind! What an oddsound! Come, we will hunt it out!"

Now the King's joy was nearly insupportable. His tired lungs did theirutmost--and hopefully, too--but the sealed jaws and the mufflingsheepskin sadly crippled the effort. Then the poor fellow's heart sank, to hear the hermit say--

"Ah, it came from without--I think from the copse yonder. Come, I willlead the way. "

The King heard the two pass out, talking; heard their footsteps diequickly away--then he was alone with a boding, brooding, awful silence. 

It seemed an age till he heard the steps and voices approaching again--and this time he heard an added sound, --the trampling of hoofs, apparently. Then he heard Hendon say--

"I will not wait longer. I CANNOT wait longer. He has lost his way inthis thick wood. Which direction took he? Quick--point it out to me. "

"He--but wait; I will go with thee. "

"Good--good! Why, truly thou art better than thy looks. Marry I do notthink there's not another archangel with so right a heart as thine. Wiltride? Wilt take the wee donkey that's for my boy, or wilt thou fork thyholy legs over this ill-conditioned slave of a mule that I have providedfor myself?--and had been cheated in too, had he cost but the indifferentsum of a month's usury on a brass farthing let to a tinker out of work. "

"No--ride thy mule, and lead thine ass; I am surer on mine own feet, andwill walk. "

"Then prithee mind the little beast for me while I take my life in myhands and make what success I may toward mounting the big one. "

Then followed a confusion of kicks, cuffs, tramplings and plungings, accompanied by a thunderous intermingling of volleyed curses, and finallya bitter apostrophe to the mule, which must have broken its spirit, forhostilities seemed to cease from that moment. 

With unutterable misery the fettered little King heard the voices andfootsteps fade away and die out. All hope forsook him, now, for themoment, and a dull despair settled down upon his heart. "My only friendis deceived and got rid of, " he said; "the hermit will return and--" Hefinished with a gasp; and at once fell to struggling so frantically withhis bonds again, that he shook off the smothering sheepskin. 

And now he heard the door open! The sound chilled him to the marrow--already he seemed to feel the knife at his throat. Horror made him closehis eyes; horror made him open them again--and before him stood JohnCanty and Hugo!

He would have said "Thank God!" if his jaws had been free. 

A moment or two later his limbs were at liberty, and his captors, eachgripping him by an arm, were hurrying him with all speed through theforest. 

Chapter XXII. A victim of treachery. 

Once more 'King Foo-foo the First' was roving with the tramps andoutlaws, a butt for their coarse jests and dull-witted railleries, andsometimes the victim of small spitefulness at the hands of Canty and Hugowhen the Ruffler's back was turned. None but Canty and Hugo reallydisliked him. Some of the others liked him, and all admired his pluckand spirit. During two or three days, Hugo, in whose ward and charge theKing was, did what he covertly could to make the boy uncomfortable; andat night, during the customary orgies, he amused the company by puttingsmall indignities upon him--always as if by accident. Twice he steppedupon the King's toes--accidentally--and the King, as became his royalty, was contemptuously unconscious of it and indifferent to it; but the thirdtime Hugo entertained himself in that way, the King felled him to theground with a cudgel, to the prodigious delight of the tribe. Hugo, consumed with anger and shame, sprang up, seized a cudgel, and came athis small adversary in a fury. Instantly a ring was formed around thegladiators, and the betting and cheering began. But poor Hugo stood nochance whatever. His frantic and lubberly 'prentice-work found but apoor market for itself when pitted against an arm which had been trainedby the first masters of Europe in single-stick, quarter-staff, and everyart and trick of swordsmanship. The little King stood, alert but atgraceful ease, and caught and turned aside the thick rain of blows with afacility and precision which set the motley on-lookers wild withadmiration; and every now and then, when his practised eye detected anopening, and a lightning-swift rap upon Hugo's head followed as a result, the storm of cheers and laughter that swept the place was somethingwonderful to hear. At the end of fifteen minutes, Hugo, all battered, bruised, and the target for a pitiless bombardment of ridicule, slunkfrom the field; and the unscathed hero of the fight was seized and bornealoft upon the shoulders of the joyous rabble to the place of honourbeside the Ruffler, where with vast ceremony he was crowned King of theGame-Cocks; his meaner title being at the same time solemnly cancelledand annulled, and a decree of banishment from the gang pronounced againstany who should thenceforth utter it. 

All attempts to make the King serviceable to the troop had failed. He hadstubbornly refused to act; moreover, he was always trying to escape. Hehad been thrust into an unwatched kitchen, the first day of his return;he not only came forth empty-handed, but tried to rouse the housemates. He was sent out with a tinker to help him at his work; he would not work;moreover, he threatened the tinker with his own soldering-iron; andfinally both Hugo and the tinker found their hands full with the merematter of keeping his from getting away. He delivered the thunders ofhis royalty upon the heads of all who hampered his liberties or tried toforce him to service. He was sent out, in Hugo's charge, in company witha slatternly woman and a diseased baby, to beg; but the result was notencouraging--he declined to plead for the mendicants, or be a party totheir cause in any way. 

Thus several days went by; and the miseries of this tramping life, andthe weariness and sordidness and meanness and vulgarity of it, becamegradually and steadily so intolerable to the captive that he began atlast to feel that his release from the hermit's knife must prove only atemporary respite from death, at best. 

But at night, in his dreams, these things were forgotten, and he was onhis throne, and master again. This, of course, intensified thesufferings of the awakening--so the mortifications of each succeedingmorning of the few that passed between his return to bondage and thecombat with Hugo, grew bitterer and bitterer, and harder and harder tobear. 

The morning after that combat, Hugo got up with a heart filled withvengeful purposes against the King. He had two plans, in particular. One was to inflict upon the lad what would be, to his proud spirit and'imagined' royalty, a peculiar humiliation; and if he failed toaccomplish this, his other plan was to put a crime of some kind upon theKing, and then betray him into the implacable clutches of the law. 

In pursuance of the first plan, he purposed to put a 'clime' upon theKing's leg; rightly judging that that would mortify him to the last andperfect degree; and as soon as the clime should operate, he meant to getCanty's help, and FORCE the King to expose his leg in the highway and begfor alms. 'Clime' was the cant term for a sore, artificially created. To make a clime, the operator made a paste or poultice of unslaked lime, soap, and the rust of old iron, and spread it upon a piece of leather, which was then bound tightly upon the leg. This would presently fret offthe skin, and make the flesh raw and angry-looking; blood was then rubbedupon the limb, which, being fully dried, took on a dark and repulsivecolour. Then a bandage of soiled rags was put on in a cleverly carelessway which would allow the hideous ulcer to be seen, and move thecompassion of the passer-by. {8}

Hugo got the help of the tinker whom the King had cowed with thesoldering-iron; they took the boy out on a tinkering tramp, and as soonas they were out of sight of the camp they threw him down and the tinkerheld him while Hugo bound the poultice tight and fast upon his leg. 

The King raged and stormed, and promised to hang the two the moment thesceptre was in his hand again; but they kept a firm grip upon him andenjoyed his impotent struggling and jeered at his threats. Thiscontinued until the poultice began to bite; and in no long time its workwould have been perfected, if there had been no interruption. But therewas; for about this time the 'slave' who had made the speech denouncingEngland's laws, appeared on the scene, and put an end to the enterprise, and stripped off the poultice and bandage. 

The King wanted to borrow his deliverer's cudgel and warm the jackets ofthe two rascals on the spot; but the man said no, it would bring trouble--leave the matter till night; the whole tribe being together, then, theoutside world would not venture to interfere or interrupt. He marchedthe party back to camp and reported the affair to the Ruffler, wholistened, pondered, and then decided that the King should not be againdetailed to beg, since it was plain he was worthy of something higher andbetter--wherefore, on the spot he promoted him from the mendicant rankand appointed him to steal!

Hugo was overjoyed. He had already tried to make the King steal, andfailed; but there would be no more trouble of that sort, now, for ofcourse the King would not dream of defying a distinct command delivereddirectly from head-quarters. So he planned a raid for that veryafternoon, purposing to get the King in the law's grip in the course ofit; and to do it, too, with such ingenious strategy, that it should seemto be accidental and unintentional; for the King of the Game-Cocks waspopular now, and the gang might not deal over-gently with an unpopularmember who played so serious a treachery upon him as the delivering himover to the common enemy, the law. 

Very well. All in good time Hugo strolled off to a neighbouring villagewith his prey; and the two drifted slowly up and down one street afteranother, the one watching sharply for a sure chance to achieve his evilpurpose, and the other watching as sharply for a chance to dart away andget free of his infamous captivity for ever. 

Both threw away some tolerably fair-looking opportunities; for both, intheir secret hearts, were resolved to make absolutely sure work thistime, and neither meant to allow his fevered desires to seduce him intoany venture that had much uncertainty about it. 

Hugo's chance came first. For at last a woman approached who carried afat package of some sort in a basket. Hugo's eyes sparkled with sinfulpleasure as he said to himself, "Breath o' my life, an' I can but putTHAT upon him, 'tis good-den and God keep thee, King of the Game-Cocks!"He waited and watched--outwardly patient, but inwardly consuming withexcitement--till the woman had passed by, and the time was ripe; thensaid, in a low voice--

"Tarry here till I come again, " and darted stealthily after the prey. 

The King's heart was filled with joy--he could make his escape, now, ifHugo's quest only carried him far enough away. 

But he was to have no such luck. Hugo crept behind the woman, snatchedthe package, and came running back, wrapping it in an old piece ofblanket which he carried on his arm. The hue and cry was raised in amoment, by the woman, who knew her loss by the lightening of her burden, although she had not seen the pilfering done. Hugo thrust the bundleinto the King's hands without halting, saying--

"Now speed ye after me with the rest, and cry 'Stop thief!' but mind yelead them astray!"

The next moment Hugo turned a corner and darted down a crooked alley--andin another moment or two he lounged into view again, looking innocent andindifferent, and took up a position behind a post to watch results. 

The insulted King threw the bundle on the ground; and the blanket fellaway from it just as the woman arrived, with an augmenting crowd at herheels; she seized the King's wrist with one hand, snatched up her bundlewith the other, and began to pour out a tirade of abuse upon the boywhile he struggled, without success, to free himself from her grip. 

Hugo had seen enough--his enemy was captured and the law would get him, now--so he slipped away, jubilant and chuckling, and wended campwards, framing a judicious version of the matter to give to the Ruffler's crewas he strode along. 

The King continued to struggle in the woman's strong grasp, and now andthen cried out in vexation--

"Unhand me, thou foolish creature; it was not I that bereaved thee of thypaltry goods. "

The crowd closed around, threatening the King and calling him names; abrawny blacksmith in leather apron, and sleeves rolled to his elbows, made a reach for him, saying he would trounce him well, for a lesson; butjust then a long sword flashed in the air and fell with convincing forceupon the man's arm, flat side down, the fantastic owner of it remarkingpleasantly, at the same time--

"Marry, good souls, let us proceed gently, not with ill blood anduncharitable words. This is matter for the law's consideration, notprivate and unofficial handling. Loose thy hold from the boy, goodwife. "

The blacksmith averaged the stalwart soldier with a glance, then wentmuttering away, rubbing his arm; the woman released the boy's wristreluctantly; the crowd eyed the stranger unlovingly, but prudently closedtheir mouths. The King sprang to his deliverer's side, with flushedcheeks and sparkling eyes, exclaiming--

"Thou hast lagged sorely, but thou comest in good season, now, Sir Miles;carve me this rabble to rags!"

Chapter XXIII. The Prince a prisoner. 

Hendon forced back a smile, and bent down and whispered in the King'sear--

"Softly, softly, my prince, wag thy tongue warily--nay, suffer it not towag at all. Trust in me--all shall go well in the end. " Then he added tohimself: "SIR Miles! Bless me, I had totally forgot I was a knight!Lord, how marvellous a thing it is, the grip his memory doth take uponhis quaint and crazy fancies! . . . An empty and foolish title is mine, and yet it is something to have deserved it; for I think it is morehonour to be held worthy to be a spectre-knight in his Kingdom of Dreamsand Shadows, than to be held base enough to be an earl in some of theREAL kingdoms of this world. "

The crowd fell apart to admit a constable, who approached and was aboutto lay his hand upon the King's shoulder, when Hendon said--

"Gently, good friend, withhold your hand--he shall go peaceably; I amresponsible for that. Lead on, we will follow. "

The officer led, with the woman and her bundle; Miles and the Kingfollowed after, with the crowd at their heels. The King was inclined torebel; but Hendon said to him in a low voice--

"Reflect, Sire--your laws are the wholesome breath of your own royalty;shall their source resist them, yet require the branches to respect them?Apparently one of these laws has been broken; when the King is on histhrone again, can it ever grieve him to remember that when he wasseemingly a private person he loyally sank the king in the citizen andsubmitted to its authority?"

"Thou art right; say no more; thou shalt see that whatsoever the King ofEngland requires a subject to suffer, under the law, he will himselfsuffer while he holdeth the station of a subject. "

When the woman was called upon to testify before the justice of thepeace, she swore that the small prisoner at the bar was the person whohad committed the theft; there was none able to show the contrary, so theKing stood convicted. The bundle was now unrolled, and when the contentsproved to be a plump little dressed pig, the judge looked troubled, whilst Hendon turned pale, and his body was thrilled with an electricshiver of dismay; but the King remained unmoved, protected by hisignorance. The judge meditated, during an ominous pause, then turned tothe woman, with the question--

"What dost thou hold this property to be worth?"

The woman courtesied and replied--

"Three shillings and eightpence, your worship--I could not abate a pennyand set forth the value honestly. "

The justice glanced around uncomfortably upon the crowd, then nodded tothe constable, and said--

"Clear the court and close the doors. "

It was done. None remained but the two officials, the accused, theaccuser, and Miles Hendon. This latter was rigid and colourless, and onhis forehead big drops of cold sweat gathered, broke and blendedtogether, and trickled down his face. The judge turned to the womanagain, and said, in a compassionate voice--

"'Tis a poor ignorant lad, and mayhap was driven hard by hunger, forthese be grievous times for the unfortunate; mark you, he hath not anevil face--but when hunger driveth--Good woman! dost know that when onesteals a thing above the value of thirteenpence ha'penny the law saith heshall HANG for it?"

The little King started, wide-eyed with consternation, but controlledhimself and held his peace; but not so the woman. She sprang to herfeet, shaking with fright, and cried out--

"Oh, good lack, what have I done! God-a-mercy, I would not hang the poorthing for the whole world! Ah, save me from this, your worship--whatshall I do, what CAN I do?"

The justice maintained his judicial composure, and simply said--

"Doubtless it is allowable to revise the value, since it is not yet writupon the record. "

"Then in God's name call the pig eightpence, and heaven bless the daythat freed my conscience of this awesome thing!"

Miles Hendon forgot all decorum in his delight; and surprised the Kingand wounded his dignity, by throwing his arms around him and hugging him. The woman made her grateful adieux and started away with her pig; andwhen the constable opened the door for her, he followed her out into thenarrow hall. The justice proceeded to write in his record book. Hendon, always alert, thought he would like to know why the officer followed thewoman out; so he slipped softly into the dusky hall and listened. Heheard a conversation to this effect--

"It is a fat pig, and promises good eating; I will buy it of thee; hereis the eightpence. "

"Eightpence, indeed! Thou'lt do no such thing. It cost me threeshillings and eightpence, good honest coin of the last reign, that oldHarry that's just dead ne'er touched or tampered with. A fig for thyeightpence!"

"Stands the wind in that quarter? Thou wast under oath, and so sworefalsely when thou saidst the value was but eightpence. Come straightwayback with me before his worship, and answer for the crime!--and then thelad will hang. "

"There, there, dear heart, say no more, I am content. Give me theeightpence, and hold thy peace about the matter. "

The woman went off crying: Hendon slipped back into the court room, andthe constable presently followed, after hiding his prize in someconvenient place. The justice wrote a while longer, then read the King awise and kindly lecture, and sentenced him to a short imprisonment in thecommon jail, to be followed by a public flogging. The astounded Kingopened his mouth, and was probably going to order the good judge to bebeheaded on the spot; but he caught a warning sign from Hendon, andsucceeded in closing his mouth again before he lost anything out of it. Hendon took him by the hand, now, made reverence to the justice, and thetwo departed in the wake of the constable toward the jail. The momentthe street was reached, the inflamed monarch halted, snatched away hishand, and exclaimed--

"Idiot, dost imagine I will enter a common jail ALIVE?"

Hendon bent down and said, somewhat sharply--

"WILL you trust in me? Peace! and forbear to worsen our chances withdangerous speech. What God wills, will happen; thou canst not hurry it, thou canst not alter it; therefore wait, and be patient--'twill be timeenow to rail or rejoice when what is to happen has happened. " {1}

Chapter XXIV. The escape. 

The short winter day was nearly ended. The streets were deserted, savefor a few random stragglers, and these hurried straight along, with theintent look of people who were only anxious to accomplish their errandsas quickly as possible, and then snugly house themselves from the risingwind and the gathering twilight. They looked neither to the right nor tothe left; they paid no attention to our party, they did not even seem tosee them. Edward the Sixth wondered if the spectacle of a king on his wayto jail had ever encountered such marvellous indifference before. By-and-by the constable arrived at a deserted market-square, andproceeded to cross it. When he had reached the middle of it, Hendonlaid his hand upon his arm, and said in a low voice--

"Bide a moment, good sir, there is none in hearing, and I would say aword to thee. "

"My duty forbids it, sir; prithee hinder me not, the night comes on. "

"Stay, nevertheless, for the matter concerns thee nearly. Turn thy backa moment and seem not to see: LET THIS POOR LAD ESCAPE. "

"This to me, sir! I arrest thee in--"

"Nay, be not too hasty. See thou be careful and commit no foolisherror, "--then he shut his voice down to a whisper, and said in the man'sear--"the pig thou hast purchased for eightpence may cost thee thy neck, man!"

The poor constable, taken by surprise, was speechless, at first, thenfound his tongue and fell to blustering and threatening; but Hendon wastranquil, and waited with patience till his breath was spent; then said--

"I have a liking to thee, friend, and would not willingly see thee cometo harm. Observe, I heard it all--every word. I will prove it to thee. "Then he repeated the conversation which the officer and the woman had hadtogether in the hall, word for word, and ended with--

"There--have I set it forth correctly? Should not I be able to set itforth correctly before the judge, if occasion required?"

The man was dumb with fear and distress, for a moment; then he rallied, and said with forced lightness--

"'Tis making a mighty matter, indeed, out of a jest; I but plagued thewoman for mine amusement. "

"Kept you the woman's pig for amusement?"

The man answered sharply--

"Nought else, good sir--I tell thee 'twas but a jest. "

"I do begin to believe thee, " said Hendon, with a perplexing mixture ofmockery and half-conviction in his tone; "but tarry thou here a momentwhilst I run and ask his worship--for nathless, he being a manexperienced in law, in jests, in--"

He was moving away, still talking; the constable hesitated, fidgeted, spat out an oath or two, then cried out--

"Hold, hold, good sir--prithee wait a little--the judge! Why, man, hehath no more sympathy with a jest than hath a dead corpse!--come, and wewill speak further. Ods body! I seem to be in evil case--and all for aninnocent and thoughtless pleasantry. I am a man of family; and my wifeand little ones--List to reason, good your worship: what wouldst thouof me?"

"Only that thou be blind and dumb and paralytic whilst one may count ahundred thousand--counting slowly, " said Hendon, with the expression of aman who asks but a reasonable favour, and that a very little one. 

"It is my destruction!" said the constable despairingly. "Ah, bereasonable, good sir; only look at this matter, on all its sides, and seehow mere a jest it is--how manifestly and how plainly it is so. And evenif one granted it were not a jest, it is a fault so small that e'en thegrimmest penalty it could call forth would be but a rebuke and warningfrom the judge's lips. "

Hendon replied with a solemnity which chilled the air about him--

"This jest of thine hath a name, in law, --wot you what it is?"

"I knew it not! Peradventure I have been unwise. I never dreamed it hada name--ah, sweet heaven, I thought it was original. "

"Yes, it hath a name. In the law this crime is called Non compos mentislex talionis sic transit gloria mundi. "

"Ah, my God!"

"And the penalty is death!"

"God be merciful to me a sinner!"

"By advantage taken of one in fault, in dire peril, and at thy mercy, thou hast seized goods worth above thirteenpence ha'penny, paying but atrifle for the same; and this, in the eye of the law, is constructivebarratry, misprision of treason, malfeasance in office, ad hominemexpurgatis in statu quo--and the penalty is death by the halter, withoutransom, commutation, or benefit of clergy. "

"Bear me up, bear me up, sweet sir, my legs do fail me! Be thoumerciful--spare me this doom, and I will turn my back and see nought thatshall happen. "

"Good! now thou'rt wise and reasonable. And thou'lt restore the pig?"

"I will, I will indeed--nor ever touch another, though heaven send it andan archangel fetch it. Go--I am blind for thy sake--I see nothing. Iwill say thou didst break in and wrest the prisoner from my hands byforce. It is but a crazy, ancient door--I will batter it down myselfbetwixt midnight and the morning. "

"Do it, good soul, no harm will come of it; the judge hath a lovingcharity for this poor lad, and will shed no tears and break no jailer'sbones for his escape. "

Chapter XXV. Hendon Hall. 

As soon as Hendon and the King were out of sight of the constable, hisMajesty was instructed to hurry to a certain place outside the town, andwait there, whilst Hendon should go to the inn and settle his account. Half an hour later the two friends were blithely jogging eastward onHendon's sorry steeds. The King was warm and comfortable, now, for hehad cast his rags and clothed himself in the second-hand suit whichHendon had bought on London Bridge. 

Hendon wished to guard against over-fatiguing the boy; he judged thathard journeys, irregular meals, and illiberal measures of sleep would bebad for his crazed mind; whilst rest, regularity, and moderate exercisewould be pretty sure to hasten its cure; he longed to see the strickenintellect made well again and its diseased visions driven out of thetormented little head; therefore he resolved to move by easy stagestoward the home whence he had so long been banished, instead of obeyingthe impulse of his impatience and hurrying along night and day. 

When he and the King had journeyed about ten miles, they reached aconsiderable village, and halted there for the night, at a good inn. The former relations were resumed; Hendon stood behind the King's chair, while he dined, and waited upon him; undressed him when he was ready forbed; then took the floor for his own quarters, and slept athwart thedoor, rolled up in a blanket. 

The next day, and the day after, they jogged lazily along talking overthe adventures they had met since their separation, and mightily enjoyingeach other's narratives. Hendon detailed all his wide wanderings insearch of the King, and described how the archangel had led him a fool'sjourney all over the forest, and taken him back to the hut, finally, whenhe found he could not get rid of him. Then--he said--the old man wentinto the bedchamber and came staggering back looking broken-hearted, andsaying he had expected to find that the boy had returned and laid down inthere to rest, but it was not so. Hendon had waited at the hut all day;hope of the King's return died out, then, and he departed upon the questagain. 

"And old Sanctum Sanctorum WAS truly sorry your highness came not back, "said Hendon; "I saw it in his face. "

"Marry I will never doubt THAT!" said the King--and then told his ownstory; after which, Hendon was sorry he had not destroyed the archangel. 

During the last day of the trip, Hendon's spirits were soaring. Histongue ran constantly. He talked about his old father, and his brotherArthur, and told of many things which illustrated their high and generouscharacters; he went into loving frenzies over his Edith, and was soglad-hearted that he was even able to say some gentle and brotherlythings about Hugh. He dwelt a deal on the coming meeting at Hendon Hall;what a surprise it would be to everybody, and what an outburst ofthanksgiving and delight there would be. 

It was a fair region, dotted with cottages and orchards, and the road ledthrough broad pasture lands whose receding expanses, marked with gentleelevations and depressions, suggested the swelling and subsidingundulations of the sea. In the afternoon the returning prodigal madeconstant deflections from his course to see if by ascending some hillockhe might not pierce the distance and catch a glimpse of his home. Atlast he was successful, and cried out excitedly--

"There is the village, my Prince, and there is the Hall close by! You maysee the towers from here; and that wood there--that is my father's park. Ah, NOW thou'lt know what state and grandeur be! A house with seventyrooms--think of that!--and seven and twenty servants! A brave lodgingfor such as we, is it not so? Come, let us speed--my impatience will notbrook further delay. "

All possible hurry was made; still, it was after three o'clock before thevillage was reached. The travellers scampered through it, Hendon'stongue going all the time. "Here is the church--covered with the sameivy--none gone, none added. " "Yonder is the inn, the old Red Lion, --andyonder is the market-place. " "Here is the Maypole, and here the pump--nothing is altered; nothing but the people, at any rate; ten years make achange in people; some of these I seem to know, but none know me. " Sohis chat ran on. The end of the village was soon reached; then thetravellers struck into a crooked, narrow road, walled in with tallhedges, and hurried briskly along it for half a mile, then passed into avast flower garden through an imposing gateway, whose huge stone pillarsbore sculptured armorial devices. A noble mansion was before them. 

"Welcome to Hendon Hall, my King!" exclaimed Miles. "Ah, 'tis a greatday! My father and my brother, and the Lady Edith will be so mad withjoy that they will have eyes and tongue for none but me in the firsttransports of the meeting, and so thou'lt seem but coldly welcomed--butmind it not; 'twill soon seem otherwise; for when I say thou art my ward, and tell them how costly is my love for thee, thou'lt see them take theeto their breasts for Miles Hendon's sake, and make their house and heartsthy home for ever after!"

The next moment Hendon sprang to the ground before the great door, helpedthe King down, then took him by the hand and rushed within. A few stepsbrought him to a spacious apartment; he entered, seated the King withmore hurry than ceremony, then ran toward a young man who sat at awriting-table in front of a generous fire of logs. 

"Embrace me, Hugh, " he cried, "and say thou'rt glad I am come again! andcall our father, for home is not home till I shall touch his hand, andsee his face, and hear his voice once more!"

But Hugh only drew back, after betraying a momentary surprise, and bent agrave stare upon the intruder--a stare which indicated somewhat ofoffended dignity, at first, then changed, in response to some inwardthought or purpose, to an expression of marvelling curiosity, mixed witha real or assumed compassion. Presently he said, in a mild voice--

"Thy wits seem touched, poor stranger; doubtless thou hast sufferedprivations and rude buffetings at the world's hands; thy looks and dressbetoken it. Whom dost thou take me to be?"

"Take thee? Prithee for whom else than whom thou art? I take thee to beHugh Hendon, " said Miles, sharply. 

The other continued, in the same soft tone--

"And whom dost thou imagine thyself to be?"

"Imagination hath nought to do with it! Dost thou pretend thou knowestme not for thy brother Miles Hendon?"

An expression of pleased surprise flitted across Hugh's face, and heexclaimed--

"What! thou art not jesting? can the dead come to life? God be praisedif it be so! Our poor lost boy restored to our arms after all thesecruel years! Ah, it seems too good to be true, it IS too good to betrue--I charge thee, have pity, do not trifle with me! Quick--come tothe light--let me scan thee well!"

He seized Miles by the arm, dragged him to the window, and began todevour him from head to foot with his eyes, turning him this way andthat, and stepping briskly around him and about him to prove him from allpoints of view; whilst the returned prodigal, all aglow with gladness, smiled, laughed, and kept nodding his head and saying--

"Go on, brother, go on, and fear not; thou'lt find nor limb nor featurethat cannot bide the test. Scour and scan me to thy content, my good oldHugh--I am indeed thy old Miles, thy same old Miles, thy lost brother, is't not so? Ah, 'tis a great day--I SAID 'twas a great day! Give methy hand, give me thy cheek--lord, I am like to die of very joy!"

He was about to throw himself upon his brother; but Hugh put up his handin dissent, then dropped his chin mournfully upon his breast, saying withemotion--

"Ah, God of his mercy give me strength to bear this grievousdisappointment!"

Miles, amazed, could not speak for a moment; then he found his tongue, and cried out--

"WHAT disappointment? Am I not thy brother?"

Hugh shook his head sadly, and said--

"I pray heaven it may prove so, and that other eyes may find theresemblances that are hid from mine. Alack, I fear me the letter spokebut too truly. "

"What letter?"

"One that came from over sea, some six or seven years ago. It said mybrother died in battle. "

"It was a lie! Call thy father--he will know me. "

"One may not call the dead. "

"Dead?" Miles's voice was subdued, and his lips trembled. "My fatherdead!--oh, this is heavy news. Half my new joy is withered now. Pritheelet me see my brother Arthur--he will know me; he will know me andconsole me. "

"He, also, is dead. "

"God be merciful to me, a stricken man! Gone, --both gone--the worthytaken and the worthless spared, in me! Ah! I crave your mercy!--do notsay the Lady Edith--"

"Is dead? No, she lives. "

"Then, God be praised, my joy is whole again! Speed thee, brother--lether come to me! An' SHE say I am not myself--but she will not; no, no, SHE will know me, I were a fool to doubt it. Bring her--bring the oldservants; they, too, will know me. "

"All are gone but five--Peter, Halsey, David, Bernard, and Margaret. "

So saying, Hugh left the room. Miles stood musing a while, then began towalk the floor, muttering--

"The five arch-villains have survived the two-and-twenty leal and honest--'tis an odd thing. "

He continued walking back and forth, muttering to himself; he hadforgotten the King entirely. By-and-by his Majesty said gravely, andwith a touch of genuine compassion, though the words themselves werecapable of being interpreted ironically--

"Mind not thy mischance, good man; there be others in the world whoseidentity is denied, and whose claims are derided. Thou hast company. "

"Ah, my King, " cried Hendon, colouring slightly, "do not thou condemn me--wait, and thou shalt see. I am no impostor--she will say it; you shallhear it from the sweetest lips in England. I an impostor? Why, I knowthis old hall, these pictures of my ancestors, and all these things thatare about us, as a child knoweth its own nursery. Here was I born andbred, my lord; I speak the truth; I would not deceive thee; and shouldnone else believe, I pray thee do not THOU doubt me--I could not bearit. "

"I do not doubt thee, " said the King, with a childlike simplicity andfaith. 

"I thank thee out of my heart!" exclaimed Hendon with a fervency whichshowed that he was touched. The King added, with the same gentlesimplicity--

"Dost thou doubt ME?"

A guilty confusion seized upon Hendon, and he was grateful that the dooropened to admit Hugh, at that moment, and saved him the necessity ofreplying. 

A beautiful lady, richly clothed, followed Hugh, and after her cameseveral liveried servants. The lady walked slowly, with her head bowedand her eyes fixed upon the floor. The face was unspeakably sad. MilesHendon sprang forward, crying out--

"Oh, my Edith, my darling--"

But Hugh waved him back, gravely, and said to the lady--

"Look upon him. Do you know him?"

At the sound of Miles's voice the woman had started slightly, and hercheeks had flushed; she was trembling now. She stood still, during animpressive pause of several moments; then slowly lifted up her head andlooked into Hendon's eyes with a stony and frightened gaze; the bloodsank out of her face, drop by drop, till nothing remained but the greypallor of death; then she said, in a voice as dead as the face, "I knowhim not!" and turned, with a moan and a stifled sob, and tottered out ofthe room. 

Miles Hendon sank into a chair and covered his face with his hands. After a pause, his brother said to the servants--

"You have observed him. Do you know him?"

They shook their heads; then the master said--

"The servants know you not, sir. I fear there is some mistake. You haveseen that my wife knew you not. "

"Thy WIFE!" In an instant Hugh was pinned to the wall, with an iron gripabout his throat. "Oh, thou fox-hearted slave, I see it all! Thou'stwrit the lying letter thyself, and my stolen bride and goods are itsfruit. There--now get thee gone, lest I shame mine honourablesoldiership with the slaying of so pitiful a mannikin!"

Hugh, red-faced, and almost suffocated, reeled to the nearest chair, andcommanded the servants to seize and bind the murderous stranger. Theyhesitated, and one of them said--

"He is armed, Sir Hugh, and we are weaponless. "

"Armed! What of it, and ye so many? Upon him, I say!"

But Miles warned them to be careful what they did, and added--

"Ye know me of old--I have not changed; come on, an' it like you. "

This reminder did not hearten the servants much; they still held back. 

"Then go, ye paltry cowards, and arm yourselves and guard the doors, whilst I send one to fetch the watch!" said Hugh. He turned at thethreshold, and said to Miles, "You'll find it to your advantage to offendnot with useless endeavours at escape. "

"Escape? Spare thyself discomfort, an' that is all that troubles thee. For Miles Hendon is master of Hendon Hall and all its belongings. Hewill remain--doubt it not. "

Chapter XXVI. Disowned. 

The King sat musing a few moments, then looked up and said--

"'Tis strange--most strange. I cannot account for it. "

"No, it is not strange, my liege. I know him, and this conduct is butnatural. He was a rascal from his birth. "

"Oh, I spake not of HIM, Sir Miles. "

"Not of him? Then of what? What is it that is strange?"

"That the King is not missed. "

"How? Which? I doubt I do not understand. "

"Indeed? Doth it not strike you as being passing strange that the landis not filled with couriers and proclamations describing my person andmaking search for me? Is it no matter for commotion and distress thatthe Head of the State is gone; that I am vanished away and lost?"

"Most true, my King, I had forgot. " Then Hendon sighed, and muttered tohimself, "Poor ruined mind--still busy with its pathetic dream. "

"But I have a plan that shall right us both--I will write a paper, inthree tongues--Latin, Greek and English--and thou shalt haste away withit to London in the morning. Give it to none but my uncle, the LordHertford; when he shall see it, he will know and say I wrote it. Then hewill send for me. "

"Might it not be best, my Prince, that we wait here until I prove myselfand make my rights secure to my domains? I should be so much the betterable then to--"

The King interrupted him imperiously--

"Peace! What are thy paltry domains, thy trivial interests, contrastedwith matters which concern the weal of a nation and the integrity of athrone?" Then, he added, in a gentle voice, as if he were sorry for hisseverity, "Obey, and have no fear; I will right thee, I will make theewhole--yes, more than whole. I shall remember, and requite. "

So saying, he took the pen, and set himself to work. Hendon contemplatedhim lovingly a while, then said to himself--

"An' it were dark, I should think it WAS a king that spoke; there's nodenying it, when the humour's upon on him he doth thunder and lightenlike your true King; now where got he that trick? See him scribble andscratch away contentedly at his meaningless pot-hooks, fancying them tobe Latin and Greek--and except my wit shall serve me with a lucky devicefor diverting him from his purpose, I shall be forced to pretend to postaway to-morrow on this wild errand he hath invented for me. "

The next moment Sir Miles's thoughts had gone back to the recent episode. So absorbed was he in his musings, that when the King presently handedhim the paper which he had been writing, he received it and pocketed itwithout being conscious of the act. "How marvellous strange she acted, "he muttered. "I think she knew me--and I think she did NOT know me. These opinions do conflict, I perceive it plainly; I cannot reconcilethem, neither can I, by argument, dismiss either of the two, or evenpersuade one to outweigh the other. The matter standeth simply thus:she MUST have known my face, my figure, my voice, for how could it beotherwise? Yet she SAID she knew me not, and that is proof perfect, forshe cannot lie. But stop--I think I begin to see. Peradventure he hathinfluenced her, commanded her, compelled her to lie. That is thesolution. The riddle is unriddled. She seemed dead with fear--yes, shewas under his compulsion. I will seek her; I will find her; now that heis away, she will speak her true mind. She will remember the old timeswhen we were little playfellows together, and this will soften her heart, and she will no more betray me, but will confess me. There is notreacherous blood in her--no, she was always honest and true. She hasloved me, in those old days--this is my security; for whom one has loved, one cannot betray. "

He stepped eagerly toward the door; at that moment it opened, and theLady Edith entered. She was very pale, but she walked with a firm step, and her carriage was full of grace and gentle dignity. Her face was assad as before. 

Miles sprang forward, with a happy confidence, to meet her, but shechecked him with a hardly perceptible gesture, and he stopped where hewas. She seated herself, and asked him to do likewise. Thus simply didshe take the sense of old comradeship out of him, and transform him intoa stranger and a guest. The surprise of it, the bewilderingunexpectedness of it, made him begin to question, for a moment, if he WASthe person he was pretending to be, after all. The Lady Edith said--

"Sir, I have come to warn you. The mad cannot be persuaded out of theirdelusions, perchance; but doubtless they may be persuaded to avoidperils. I think this dream of yours hath the seeming of honest truth toyou, and therefore is not criminal--but do not tarry here with it; forhere it is dangerous. " She looked steadily into Miles's face a moment, then added, impressively, "It is the more dangerous for that you ARE muchlike what our lost lad must have grown to be if he had lived. "

"Heavens, madam, but I AM he!"

"I truly think you think it, sir. I question not your honesty in that; Ibut warn you, that is all. My husband is master in this region; hispower hath hardly any limit; the people prosper or starve, as he wills. If you resembled not the man whom you profess to be, my husband might bidyou pleasure yourself with your dream in peace; but trust me, I know himwell; I know what he will do; he will say to all that you are but a madimpostor, and straightway all will echo him. " She bent upon Miles thatsame steady look once more, and added: "If you WERE Miles Hendon, and heknew it and all the region knew it--consider what I am saying, weigh itwell--you would stand in the same peril, your punishment would be no lesssure; he would deny you and denounce you, and none would be bold enoughto give you countenance. "

"Most truly I believe it, " said Miles, bitterly. "The power that cancommand one life-long friend to betray and disown another, and be obeyed, may well look to be obeyed in quarters where bread and life are on thestake and no cobweb ties of loyalty and honour are concerned. "

A faint tinge appeared for a moment in the lady's cheek, and she droppedher eyes to the floor; but her voice betrayed no emotion when sheproceeded--

"I have warned you--I must still warn you--to go hence. This man willdestroy you, else. He is a tyrant who knows no pity. I, who am hisfettered slave, know this. Poor Miles, and Arthur, and my dear guardian, Sir Richard, are free of him, and at rest: better that you were withthem than that you bide here in the clutches of this miscreant. Yourpretensions are a menace to his title and possessions; you have assaultedhim in his own house: you are ruined if you stay. Go--do not hesitate. If you lack money, take this purse, I beg of you, and bribe the servantsto let you pass. Oh, be warned, poor soul, and escape while you may. "

Miles declined the purse with a gesture, and rose up and stood beforeher. 

"Grant me one thing, " he said. "Let your eyes rest upon mine, so that Imay see if they be steady. There--now answer me. Am I Miles Hendon?"

"No. I know you not. "

"Swear it!"

The answer was low, but distinct--

"I swear. "

"Oh, this passes belief!"

"Fly! Why will you waste the precious time? Fly, and save yourself. "

At that moment the officers burst into the room, and a violent strugglebegan; but Hendon was soon overpowered and dragged away. The King wastaken also, and both were bound and led to prison. 

Chapter XXVII. In prison. 

The cells were all crowded; so the two friends were chained in a largeroom where persons charged with trifling offences were commonly kept. They had company, for there were some twenty manacled and fetteredprisoners here, of both sexes and of varying ages, --an obscene and noisygang. The King chafed bitterly over the stupendous indignity thus putupon his royalty, but Hendon was moody and taciturn. He was prettythoroughly bewildered; he had come home, a jubilant prodigal, expectingto find everybody wild with joy over his return; and instead had got thecold shoulder and a jail. The promise and the fulfilment differed sowidely that the effect was stunning; he could not decide whether it wasmost tragic or most grotesque. He felt much as a man might who haddanced blithely out to enjoy a rainbow, and got struck by lightning. 

But gradually his confused and tormenting thoughts settled down into somesort of order, and then his mind centred itself upon Edith. He turnedher conduct over, and examined it in all lights, but he could not makeanything satisfactory out of it. Did she know him--or didn't she knowhim? It was a perplexing puzzle, and occupied him a long time; but heended, finally, with the conviction that she did know him, and hadrepudiated him for interested reasons. He wanted to load her name withcurses now; but this name had so long been sacred to him that he found hecould not bring his tongue to profane it. 

Wrapped in prison blankets of a soiled and tattered condition, Hendon andthe King passed a troubled night. For a bribe the jailer had furnishedliquor to some of the prisoners; singing of ribald songs, fighting, shouting, and carousing was the natural consequence. At last, a whileafter midnight, a man attacked a woman and nearly killed her by beatingher over the head with his manacles before the jailer could come to therescue. The jailer restored peace by giving the man a sound clubbingabout the head and shoulders--then the carousing ceased; and after that, all had an opportunity to sleep who did not mind the annoyance of themoanings and groanings of the two wounded people. 

During the ensuing week, the days and nights were of a monotonoussameness as to events; men whose faces Hendon remembered more or lessdistinctly, came, by day, to gaze at the 'impostor' and repudiate andinsult him; and by night the carousing and brawling went on withsymmetrical regularity. However, there was a change of incident at last. The jailer brought in an old man, and said to him--

"The villain is in this room--cast thy old eyes about and see if thoucanst say which is he. "

Hendon glanced up, and experienced a pleasant sensation for the firsttime since he had been in the jail. He said to himself, "This is BlakeAndrews, a servant all his life in my father's family--a good honestsoul, with a right heart in his breast. That is, formerly. But none aretrue now; all are liars. This man will know me--and will deny me, too, like the rest. "

The old man gazed around the room, glanced at each face in turn, andfinally said--

"I see none here but paltry knaves, scum o' the streets. Which is he?"

The jailer laughed. 

"Here, " he said; "scan this big animal, and grant me an opinion. "

The old man approached, and looked Hendon over, long and earnestly, thenshook his head and said--

"Marry, THIS is no Hendon--nor ever was!"

"Right! Thy old eyes are sound yet. An' I were Sir Hugh, I would takethe shabby carle and--"

The jailer finished by lifting himself a-tip-toe with an imaginaryhalter, at the same time making a gurgling noise in his throat suggestiveof suffocation. The old man said, vindictively--

"Let him bless God an' he fare no worse. An' _I_ had the handling o' thevillain he should roast, or I am no true man!"

The jailer laughed a pleasant hyena laugh, and said--

"Give him a piece of thy mind, old man--they all do it. Thou'lt find itgood diversion. "

Then he sauntered toward his ante-room and disappeared. The old mandropped upon his knees and whispered--

"God be thanked, thou'rt come again, my master! I believed thou wertdead these seven years, and lo, here thou art alive! I knew thee themoment I saw thee; and main hard work it was to keep a stony countenanceand seem to see none here but tuppenny knaves and rubbish o' the streets. I am old and poor, Sir Miles; but say the word and I will go forth andproclaim the truth though I be strangled for it. "

"No, " said Hendon; "thou shalt not. It would ruin thee, and yet help butlittle in my cause. But I thank thee, for thou hast given me backsomewhat of my lost faith in my kind. "

The old servant became very valuable to Hendon and the King; for hedropped in several times a day to 'abuse' the former, and always smuggledin a few delicacies to help out the prison bill of fare; he alsofurnished the current news. Hendon reserved the dainties for the King;without them his Majesty might not have survived, for he was not able toeat the coarse and wretched food provided by the jailer. Andrews wasobliged to confine himself to brief visits, in order to avoid suspicion;but he managed to impart a fair degree of information each time--information delivered in a low voice, for Hendon's benefit, andinterlarded with insulting epithets delivered in a louder voice for thebenefit of other hearers. 

So, little by little, the story of the family came out. Arthur had beendead six years. This loss, with the absence of news from Hendon, impaired the father's health; he believed he was going to die, and hewished to see Hugh and Edith settled in life before he passed away; butEdith begged hard for delay, hoping for Miles's return; then the lettercame which brought the news of Miles's death; the shock prostrated SirRichard; he believed his end was very near, and he and Hugh insisted uponthe marriage; Edith begged for and obtained a month's respite, thenanother, and finally a third; the marriage then took place by thedeath-bed of Sir Richard. It had not proved a happy one. It waswhispered about the country that shortly after the nuptials the bridefound among her husband's papers several rough and incomplete drafts ofthe fatal letter, and had accused him of precipitating the marriage--andSir Richard's death, too--by a wicked forgery. Tales of cruelty to theLady Edith and the servants were to be heard on all hands; and since thefather's death Sir Hugh had thrown off all soft disguises and become apitiless master toward all who in any way depended upon him and hisdomains for bread. 

There was a bit of Andrew's gossip which the King listened to with alively interest--

"There is rumour that the King is mad. But in charity forbear to say _I_mentioned it, for 'tis death to speak of it, they say. "

His Majesty glared at the old man and said--

"The King is NOT mad, good man--and thou'lt find it to thy advantage tobusy thyself with matters that nearer concern thee than this seditiousprattle. "

"What doth the lad mean?" said Andrews, surprised at this brisk assaultfrom such an unexpected quarter. Hendon gave him a sign, and he did notpursue his question, but went on with his budget--

"The late King is to be buried at Windsor in a day or two--the 16th ofthe month--and the new King will be crowned at Westminster the 20th. "

"Methinks they must needs find him first, " muttered his Majesty; thenadded, confidently, "but they will look to that--and so also shall I. "

"In the name of--"

But the old man got no further--a warning sign from Hendon checked hisremark. He resumed the thread of his gossip--

"Sir Hugh goeth to the coronation--and with grand hopes. He confidentlylooketh to come back a peer, for he is high in favour with the LordProtector. "

"What Lord Protector?" asked his Majesty. 

"His Grace the Duke of Somerset. "

"What Duke of Somerset?"

"Marry, there is but one--Seymour, Earl of Hertford. "

The King asked sharply--

"Since when is HE a duke, and Lord Protector?"

"Since the last day of January. "

"And prithee who made him so?"

"Himself and the Great Council--with help of the King. "

His Majesty started violently. "The KING!" he cried. "WHAT king, goodsir?"

"What king, indeed! (God-a-mercy, what aileth the boy?) Sith we have butone, 'tis not difficult to answer--his most sacred Majesty King Edwardthe Sixth--whom God preserve! Yea, and a dear and gracious little urchinis he, too; and whether he be mad or no--and they say he mendeth daily--his praises are on all men's lips; and all bless him, likewise, and offerprayers that he may be spared to reign long in England; for he beganhumanely with saving the old Duke of Norfolk's life, and now is he benton destroying the cruellest of the laws that harry and oppress thepeople. "

This news struck his Majesty dumb with amazement, and plunged him into sodeep and dismal a reverie that he heard no more of the old man's gossip. He wondered if the 'little urchin' was the beggar-boy whom he leftdressed in his own garments in the palace. It did not seem possible thatthis could be, for surely his manners and speech would betray him if hepretended to be the Prince of Wales--then he would be driven out, andsearch made for the true prince. Could it be that the Court had set upsome sprig of the nobility in his place? No, for his uncle would notallow that--he was all-powerful and could and would crush such amovement, of course. The boy's musings profited him nothing; the more hetried to unriddle the mystery the more perplexed he became, the more hishead ached, and the worse he slept. His impatience to get to London grewhourly, and his captivity became almost unendurable. 

Hendon's arts all failed with the King--he could not be comforted; but acouple of women who were chained near him succeeded better. Under theirgentle ministrations he found peace and learned a degree of patience. Hewas very grateful, and came to love them dearly and to delight in thesweet and soothing influence of their presence. He asked them why theywere in prison, and when they said they were Baptists, he smiled, andinquired--

"Is that a crime to be shut up for in a prison? Now I grieve, for Ishall lose ye--they will not keep ye long for such a little thing. "

They did not answer; and something in their faces made him uneasy. Hesaid, eagerly--

"You do not speak; be good to me, and tell me--there will be no otherpunishment? Prithee tell me there is no fear of that. "

They tried to change the topic, but his fears were aroused, and hepursued it--

"Will they scourge thee? No, no, they would not be so cruel! Say theywould not. Come, they WILL not, will they?"

The women betrayed confusion and distress, but there was no avoiding ananswer, so one of them said, in a voice choked with emotion--

"Oh, thou'lt break our hearts, thou gentle spirit!--God will help us tobear our--"

"It is a confession!" the King broke in. "Then they WILL scourge thee, the stony-hearted wretches! But oh, thou must not weep, I cannot bearit. Keep up thy courage--I shall come to my own in time to save theefrom this bitter thing, and I will do it!"

When the King awoke in the morning, the women were gone. 

"They are saved!" he said, joyfully; then added, despondently, "but woeis me!--for they were my comforters. "

Each of them had left a shred of ribbon pinned to his clothing, in tokenof remembrance. He said he would keep these things always; and that soonhe would seek out these dear good friends of his and take them under hisprotection. 

Just then the jailer came in with some subordinates, and commanded thatthe prisoners be conducted to the jail-yard. The King was overjoyed--itwould be a blessed thing to see the blue sky and breathe the fresh aironce more. He fretted and chafed at the slowness of the officers, buthis turn came at last, and he was released from his staple and ordered tofollow the other prisoners with Hendon. 

The court or quadrangle was stone-paved, and open to the sky. Theprisoners entered it through a massive archway of masonry, and wereplaced in file, standing, with their backs against the wall. A rope wasstretched in front of them, and they were also guarded by their officers. It was a chill and lowering morning, and a light snow which had fallenduring the night whitened the great empty space and added to the generaldismalness of its aspect. Now and then a wintry wind shivered through theplace and sent the snow eddying hither and thither. 

In the centre of the court stood two women, chained to posts. A glanceshowed the King that these were his good friends. He shuddered, and saidto himself, "Alack, they are not gone free, as I had thought. To thinkthat such as these should know the lash!--in England! Ay, there's theshame of it--not in Heathennesse, Christian England! They will bescourged; and I, whom they have comforted and kindly entreated, must lookon and see the great wrong done; it is strange, so strange, that I, thevery source of power in this broad realm, am helpless to protect them. But let these miscreants look well to themselves, for there is a daycoming when I will require of them a heavy reckoning for this work. Forevery blow they strike now, they shall feel a hundred then. "

A great gate swung open, and a crowd of citizens poured in. They flockedaround the two women, and hid them from the King's view. A clergymanentered and passed through the crowd, and he also was hidden. The Kingnow heard talking, back and forth, as if questions were being asked andanswered, but he could not make out what was said. Next there was a dealof bustle and preparation, and much passing and repassing of officialsthrough that part of the crowd that stood on the further side of thewomen; and whilst this proceeded a deep hush gradually fell upon thepeople. 

Now, by command, the masses parted and fell aside, and the King saw aspectacle that froze the marrow in his bones. Faggots had been piledabout the two women, and a kneeling man was lighting them!

The women bowed their heads, and covered their faces with their hands;the yellow flames began to climb upward among the snapping and cracklingfaggots, and wreaths of blue smoke to stream away on the wind; theclergyman lifted his hands and began a prayer--just then two young girlscame flying through the great gate, uttering piercing screams, and threwthemselves upon the women at the stake. Instantly they were torn away bythe officers, and one of them was kept in a tight grip, but the otherbroke loose, saying she would die with her mother; and before she couldbe stopped she had flung her arms about her mother's neck again. She wastorn away once more, and with her gown on fire. Two or three men heldher, and the burning portion of her gown was snatched off and thrownflaming aside, she struggling all the while to free herself, and sayingshe would be alone in the world, now; and begging to be allowed to diewith her mother. Both the girls screamed continually, and fought forfreedom; but suddenly this tumult was drowned under a volley ofheart-piercing shrieks of mortal agony--the King glanced from the franticgirls to the stake, then turned away and leaned his ashen face againstthe wall, and looked no more. He said, "That which I have seen, in thatone little moment, will never go out from my memory, but will abidethere; and I shall see it all the days, and dream of it all the nights, till I die. Would God I had been blind!"

Hendon was watching the King. He said to himself, with satisfaction, "His disorder mendeth; he hath changed, and groweth gentler. If he hadfollowed his wont, he would have stormed at these varlets, and said hewas King, and commanded that the women be turned loose unscathed. Soonhis delusion will pass away and be forgotten, and his poor mind will bewhole again. God speed the day!"

That same day several prisoners were brought in to remain over night, whowere being conveyed, under guard, to various places in the kingdom, toundergo punishment for crimes committed. The King conversed with these--he had made it a point, from the beginning, to instruct himself for thekingly office by questioning prisoners whenever the opportunity offered--and the tale of their woes wrung his heart. One of them was a poorhalf-witted woman who had stolen a yard or two of cloth from a weaver--she was to be hanged for it. Another was a man who had been accused ofstealing a horse; he said the proof had failed, and he had imagined thathe was safe from the halter; but no--he was hardly free before he wasarraigned for killing a deer in the King's park; this was proved againsthim, and now he was on his way to the gallows. There was a tradesman'sapprentice whose case particularly distressed the King; this youth saidhe found a hawk, one evening, that had escaped from its owner, and hetook it home with him, imagining himself entitled to it; but the courtconvicted him of stealing it, and sentenced him to death. 

The King was furious over these inhumanities, and wanted Hendon to breakjail and fly with him to Westminster, so that he could mount his throneand hold out his sceptre in mercy over these unfortunate people and savetheir lives. "Poor child, " sighed Hendon, "these woeful tales havebrought his malady upon him again; alack, but for this evil hap, he wouldhave been well in a little time. "

Among these prisoners was an old lawyer--a man with a strong face and adauntless mien. Three years past, he had written a pamphlet against theLord Chancellor, accusing him of injustice, and had been punished for itby the loss of his ears in the pillory, and degradation from the bar, andin addition had been fined 3, 000 pounds and sentenced to imprisonment forlife. Lately he had repeated his offence; and in consequence was nowunder sentence to lose WHAT REMAINED OF HIS EARS, pay a fine of 5, 000pounds, be branded on both cheeks, and remain in prison for life. 

"These be honourable scars, " he said, and turned back his grey hair andshowed the mutilated stubs of what had once been his ears. 

The King's eye burned with passion. He said--

"None believe in me--neither wilt thou. But no matter--within thecompass of a month thou shalt be free; and more, the laws that havedishonoured thee, and shamed the English name, shall be swept from thestatute books. The world is made wrong; kings should go to school totheir own laws, at times, and so learn mercy. " {1}

Chapter XXVIII. The sacrifice. 

Meantime Miles was growing sufficiently tired of confinement andinaction. But now his trial came on, to his great gratification, and hethought he could welcome any sentence provided a further imprisonmentshould not be a part of it. But he was mistaken about that. He was in afine fury when he found himself described as a 'sturdy vagabond' andsentenced to sit two hours in the stocks for bearing that character andfor assaulting the master of Hendon Hall. His pretensions as tobrothership with his prosecutor, and rightful heirship to the Hendonhonours and estates, were left contemptuously unnoticed, as being noteven worth examination. 

He raged and threatened on his way to punishment, but it did no good; hewas snatched roughly along by the officers, and got an occasional cuff, besides, for his irreverent conduct. 

The King could not pierce through the rabble that swarmed behind; so hewas obliged to follow in the rear, remote from his good friend andservant. The King had been nearly condemned to the stocks himself forbeing in such bad company, but had been let off with a lecture and awarning, in consideration of his youth. When the crowd at last halted, he flitted feverishly from point to point around its outer rim, hunting aplace to get through; and at last, after a deal of difficulty and delay, succeeded. There sat his poor henchman in the degrading stocks, thesport and butt of a dirty mob--he, the body servant of the King ofEngland! Edward had heard the sentence pronounced, but he had notrealised the half that it meant. His anger began to rise as the sense ofthis new indignity which had been put upon him sank home; it jumped tosummer heat, the next moment, when he saw an egg sail through the air andcrush itself against Hendon's cheek, and heard the crowd roar itsenjoyment of the episode. He sprang across the open circle andconfronted the officer in charge, crying--

"For shame! This is my servant--set him free! I am the--"

"Oh, peace!" exclaimed Hendon, in a panic, "thou'lt destroy thyself. Mind him not, officer, he is mad. "

"Give thyself no trouble as to the matter of minding him, good man, Ihave small mind to mind him; but as to teaching him somewhat, to that Iam well inclined. " He turned to a subordinate and said, "Give the littlefool a taste or two of the lash, to mend his manners. "

"Half a dozen will better serve his turn, " suggested Sir Hugh, who hadridden up, a moment before, to take a passing glance at the proceedings. 

The King was seized. He did not even struggle, so paralysed was he withthe mere thought of the monstrous outrage that was proposed to beinflicted upon his sacred person. History was already defiled with therecord of the scourging of an English king with whips--it was anintolerable reflection that he must furnish a duplicate of that shamefulpage. He was in the toils, there was no help for him; he must eithertake this punishment or beg for its remission. Hard conditions; he wouldtake the stripes--a king might do that, but a king could not beg. 

But meantime, Miles Hendon was resolving the difficulty. "Let the childgo, " said he; "ye heartless dogs, do ye not see how young and frail heis? Let him go--I will take his lashes. "

"Marry, a good thought--and thanks for it, " said Sir Hugh, his facelighting with a sardonic satisfaction. "Let the little beggar go, andgive this fellow a dozen in his place--an honest dozen, well laid on. "The King was in the act of entering a fierce protest, but Sir Hughsilenced him with the potent remark, "Yes, speak up, do, and free thymind--only, mark ye, that for each word you utter he shall get sixstrokes the more. "

Hendon was removed from the stocks, and his back laid bare; and whilstthe lash was applied the poor little King turned away his face andallowed unroyal tears to channel his cheeks unchecked. "Ah, brave goodheart, " he said to himself, "this loyal deed shall never perish out of mymemory. I will not forget it--and neither shall THEY!" he added, withpassion. Whilst he mused, his appreciation of Hendon's magnanimousconduct grew to greater and still greater dimensions in his mind, and soalso did his gratefulness for it. Presently he said to himself, "Whosaves his prince from wounds and possible death--and this he did for me--performs high service; but it is little--it is nothing--oh, less thannothing!--when 'tis weighed against the act of him who saves his princefrom SHAME!"

Hendon made no outcry under the scourge, but bore the heavy blows withsoldierly fortitude. This, together with his redeeming the boy by takinghis stripes for him, compelled the respect of even that forlorn anddegraded mob that was gathered there; and its gibes and hootings diedaway, and no sound remained but the sound of the falling blows. Thestillness that pervaded the place, when Hendon found himself once more inthe stocks, was in strong contrast with the insulting clamour which hadprevailed there so little a while before. The King came softly toHendon's side, and whispered in his ear--

"Kings cannot ennoble thee, thou good, great soul, for One who is higherthan kings hath done that for thee; but a king can confirm thy nobilityto men. " He picked up the scourge from the ground, touched Hendon'sbleeding shoulders lightly with it, and whispered, "Edward of Englanddubs thee Earl!"

Hendon was touched. The water welled to his eyes, yet at the same timethe grisly humour of the situation and circumstances so undermined hisgravity that it was all he could do to keep some sign of his inward mirthfrom showing outside. To be suddenly hoisted, naked and gory, from thecommon stocks to the Alpine altitude and splendour of an Earldom, seemedto him the last possibility in the line of the grotesque. He said tohimself, "Now am I finely tinselled, indeed! The spectre-knight of theKingdom of Dreams and Shadows is become a spectre-earl--a dizzy flightfor a callow wing! An' this go on, I shall presently be hung like a verymaypole with fantastic gauds and make-believe honours. But I shall valuethem, all valueless as they are, for the love that doth bestow them. Better these poor mock dignities of mine, that come unasked, from a cleanhand and a right spirit, than real ones bought by servility from grudgingand interested power. "

The dreaded Sir Hugh wheeled his horse about, and as he spurred away, theliving wall divided silently to let him pass, and as silently closedtogether again. And so remained; nobody went so far as to venture aremark in favour of the prisoner, or in compliment to him; but no matter--the absence of abuse was a sufficient homage in itself. A late comerwho was not posted as to the present circumstances, and who delivered asneer at the 'impostor, ' and was in the act of following it with a deadcat, was promptly knocked down and kicked out, without any words, andthen the deep quiet resumed sway once more. 

Chapter XXIX. To London. 

When Hendon's term of service in the stocks was finished, he was releasedand ordered to quit the region and come back no more. His sword wasrestored to him, and also his mule and his donkey. He mounted and rodeoff, followed by the King, the crowd opening with quiet respectfulness tolet them pass, and then dispersing when they were gone. 

Hendon was soon absorbed in thought. There were questions of high importto be answered. What should he do? Whither should he go? Powerful helpmust be found somewhere, or he must relinquish his inheritance and remainunder the imputation of being an impostor besides. Where could he hopeto find this powerful help? Where, indeed! It was a knotty question. By-and-by a thought occurred to him which pointed to a possibility--theslenderest of slender possibilities, certainly, but still worthconsidering, for lack of any other that promised anything at all. Heremembered what old Andrews had said about the young King's goodness andhis generous championship of the wronged and unfortunate. Why not go andtry to get speech of him and beg for justice? Ah, yes, but could sofantastic a pauper get admission to the august presence of a monarch?Never mind--let that matter take care of itself; it was a bridge thatwould not need to be crossed till he should come to it. He was an oldcampaigner, and used to inventing shifts and expedients: no doubt hewould be able to find a way. Yes, he would strike for the capital. Maybe his father's old friend Sir Humphrey Marlow would help him--'goodold Sir Humphrey, Head Lieutenant of the late King's kitchen, or stables, or something'--Miles could not remember just what or which. Now that hehad something to turn his energies to, a distinctly defined object toaccomplish, the fog of humiliation and depression which had settled downupon his spirits lifted and blew away, and he raised his head and lookedabout him. He was surprised to see how far he had come; the village wasaway behind him. The King was jogging along in his wake, with his headbowed; for he, too, was deep in plans and thinkings. A sorrowfulmisgiving clouded Hendon's new-born cheerfulness: would the boy bewilling to go again to a city where, during all his brief life, he hadnever known anything but ill-usage and pinching want? But the questionmust be asked; it could not be avoided; so Hendon reined up, and calledout--

"I had forgotten to inquire whither we are bound. Thy commands, myliege!"

"To London!"

Hendon moved on again, mightily contented with the answer--but astoundedat it too. 

The whole journey was made without an adventure of importance. But itended with one. About ten o'clock on the night of the 19th of Februarythey stepped upon London Bridge, in the midst of a writhing, strugglingjam of howling and hurrahing people, whose beer-jolly faces stood outstrongly in the glare from manifold torches--and at that instant thedecaying head of some former duke or other grandee tumbled down betweenthem, striking Hendon on the elbow and then bounding off among thehurrying confusion of feet. So evanescent and unstable are men's works inthis world!--the late good King is but three weeks dead and three days inhis grave, and already the adornments which he took such pains to selectfrom prominent people for his noble bridge are falling. A citizenstumbled over that head, and drove his own head into the back of somebodyin front of him, who turned and knocked down the first person that camehandy, and was promptly laid out himself by that person's friend. It wasthe right ripe time for a free fight, for the festivities of the morrow--Coronation Day--were already beginning; everybody was full of strongdrink and patriotism; within five minutes the free fight was occupying agood deal of ground; within ten or twelve it covered an acre of so, andwas become a riot. By this time Hendon and the King were hopelesslyseparated from each other and lost in the rush and turmoil of the roaringmasses of humanity. And so we leave them. 

Chapter XXX. Tom's progress. 

Whilst the true King wandered about the land poorly clad, poorly fed, cuffed and derided by tramps one while, herding with thieves andmurderers in a jail another, and called idiot and impostor by allimpartially, the mock King Tom Canty enjoyed quite a differentexperience. 

When we saw him last, royalty was just beginning to have a bright sidefor him. This bright side went on brightening more and more every day:in a very little while it was become almost all sunshine anddelightfulness. He lost his fears; his misgivings faded out and died;his embarrassments departed, and gave place to an easy and confidentbearing. He worked the whipping-boy mine to ever-increasing profit. 

He ordered my Lady Elizabeth and my Lady Jane Grey into his presence whenhe wanted to play or talk, and dismissed them when he was done with them, with the air of one familiarly accustomed to such performances. It nolonger confused him to have these lofty personages kiss his hand atparting. 

He came to enjoy being conducted to bed in state at night, and dressedwith intricate and solemn ceremony in the morning. It came to be a proudpleasure to march to dinner attended by a glittering procession ofofficers of state and gentlemen-at-arms; insomuch, indeed, that hedoubled his guard of gentlemen-at-arms, and made them a hundred. Heliked to hear the bugles sounding down the long corridors, and thedistant voices responding, "Way for the King!"

He even learned to enjoy sitting in throned state in council, and seemingto be something more than the Lord Protector's mouthpiece. He liked toreceive great ambassadors and their gorgeous trains, and listen to theaffectionate messages they brought from illustrious monarchs who calledhim brother. O happy Tom Canty, late of Offal Court!

He enjoyed his splendid clothes, and ordered more: he found his fourhundred servants too few for his proper grandeur, and trebled them. Theadulation of salaaming courtiers came to be sweet music to his ears. Heremained kind and gentle, and a sturdy and determined champion of allthat were oppressed, and he made tireless war upon unjust laws: yet uponoccasion, being offended, he could turn upon an earl, or even a duke, andgive him a look that would make him tremble. Once, when his royal'sister, ' the grimly holy Lady Mary, set herself to reason with himagainst the wisdom of his course in pardoning so many people who wouldotherwise be jailed, or hanged, or burned, and reminded him that theiraugust late father's prisons had sometimes contained as high as sixtythousand convicts at one time, and that during his admirable reign he haddelivered seventy-two thousand thieves and robbers over to death by theexecutioner, {9} the boy was filled with generous indignation, andcommanded her to go to her closet, and beseech God to take away the stonethat was in her breast, and give her a human heart. 

Did Tom Canty never feel troubled about the poor little rightful princewho had treated him so kindly, and flown out with such hot zeal to avengehim upon the insolent sentinel at the palace-gate? Yes; his first royaldays and nights were pretty well sprinkled with painful thoughts aboutthe lost prince, and with sincere longings for his return, and happyrestoration to his native rights and splendours. But as time wore on, and the prince did not come, Tom's mind became more and more occupiedwith his new and enchanting experiences, and by little and little thevanished monarch faded almost out of his thoughts; and finally, when hedid intrude upon them at intervals, he was become an unwelcome spectre, for he made Tom feel guilty and ashamed. 

Tom's poor mother and sisters travelled the same road out of his mind. At first he pined for them, sorrowed for them, longed to see them, butlater, the thought of their coming some day in their rags and dirt, andbetraying him with their kisses, and pulling him down from his loftyplace, and dragging him back to penury and degradation and the slums, made him shudder. At last they ceased to trouble his thoughts almostwholly. And he was content, even glad: for, whenever their mournful andaccusing faces did rise before him now, they made him feel moredespicable than the worms that crawl. 

At midnight of the 19th of February, Tom Canty was sinking to sleep inhis rich bed in the palace, guarded by his loyal vassals, and surroundedby the pomps of royalty, a happy boy; for tomorrow was the day appointedfor his solemn crowning as King of England. At that same hour, Edward, the true king, hungry and thirsty, soiled and draggled, worn with travel, and clothed in rags and shreds--his share of the results of the riot--waswedged in among a crowd of people who were watching with deep interestcertain hurrying gangs of workmen who streamed in and out of WestminsterAbbey, busy as ants: they were making the last preparation for the royalcoronation. 

Chapter XXXI. The Recognition procession. 

When Tom Canty awoke the next morning, the air was heavy with athunderous murmur: all the distances were charged with it. It was musicto him; for it meant that the English world was out in its strength togive loyal welcome to the great day. 

Presently Tom found himself once more the chief figure in a wonderfulfloating pageant on the Thames; for by ancient custom the 'recognitionprocession' through London must start from the Tower, and he was boundthither. 

When he arrived there, the sides of the venerable fortress seemedsuddenly rent in a thousand places, and from every rent leaped a redtongue of flame and a white gush of smoke; a deafening explosionfollowed, which drowned the shoutings of the multitude, and made theground tremble; the flame-jets, the smoke, and the explosions, wererepeated over and over again with marvellous celerity, so that in a fewmoments the old Tower disappeared in the vast fog of its own smoke, allbut the very top of the tall pile called the White Tower; this, with itsbanners, stood out above the dense bank of vapour as a mountain-peakprojects above a cloud-rack. 

Tom Canty, splendidly arrayed, mounted a prancing war-steed, whose richtrappings almost reached to the ground; his 'uncle, ' the Lord ProtectorSomerset, similarly mounted, took place in his rear; the King's Guardformed in single ranks on either side, clad in burnished armour; afterthe Protector followed a seemingly interminable procession of resplendentnobles attended by their vassals; after these came the lord mayor and thealdermanic body, in crimson velvet robes, and with their gold chainsacross their breasts; and after these the officers and members of all theguilds of London, in rich raiment, and bearing the showy banners of theseveral corporations. Also in the procession, as a special guard ofhonour through the city, was the Ancient and Honourable ArtilleryCompany--an organisation already three hundred years old at that time, and the only military body in England possessing the privilege (which itstill possesses in our day) of holding itself independent of the commandsof Parliament. It was a brilliant spectacle, and was hailed withacclamations all along the line, as it took its stately way through thepacked multitudes of citizens. The chronicler says, 'The King, as heentered the city, was received by the people with prayers, welcomings, cries, and tender words, and all signs which argue an earnest love ofsubjects toward their sovereign; and the King, by holding up his gladcountenance to such as stood afar off, and most tender language to thosethat stood nigh his Grace, showed himself no less thankful to receive thepeople's goodwill than they to offer it. To all that wished him well, hegave thanks. To such as bade "God save his Grace, " he said in return, "God save you all!" and added that "he thanked them with all his heart. "Wonderfully transported were the people with the loving answers andgestures of their King. '

In Fenchurch Street a 'fair child, in costly apparel, ' stood on a stageto welcome his Majesty to the city. The last verse of his greeting wasin these words--

'Welcome, O King! as much as hearts can think; Welcome, again, as much astongue can tell, --Welcome to joyous tongues, and hearts that will notshrink: God thee preserve, we pray, and wish thee ever well. '

The people burst forth in a glad shout, repeating with one voice what thechild had said. Tom Canty gazed abroad over the surging sea of eagerfaces, and his heart swelled with exultation; and he felt that the onething worth living for in this world was to be a king, and a nation'sidol. Presently he caught sight, at a distance, of a couple of hisragged Offal Court comrades--one of them the lord high admiral in hislate mimic court, the other the first lord of the bedchamber in the samepretentious fiction; and his pride swelled higher than ever. Oh, if theycould only recognise him now! What unspeakable glory it would be, ifthey could recognise him, and realise that the derided mock king of theslums and back alleys was become a real King, with illustrious dukes andprinces for his humble menials, and the English world at his feet! Buthe had to deny himself, and choke down his desire, for such a recognitionmight cost more than it would come to: so he turned away his head, andleft the two soiled lads to go on with their shoutings and gladadulations, unsuspicious of whom it was they were lavishing them upon. 

Every now and then rose the cry, "A largess! a largess!" and Tomresponded by scattering a handful of bright new coins abroad for themultitude to scramble for. 

The chronicler says, 'At the upper end of Gracechurch Street, before thesign of the Eagle, the city had erected a gorgeous arch, beneath whichwas a stage, which stretched from one side of the street to the other. This was an historical pageant, representing the King's immediateprogenitors. There sat Elizabeth of York in the midst of an immensewhite rose, whose petals formed elaborate furbelows around her; by herside was Henry VII. , issuing out of a vast red rose, disposed in the samemanner: the hands of the royal pair were locked together, and thewedding-ring ostentatiously displayed. From the red and white rosesproceeded a stem, which reached up to a second stage, occupied by HenryVIII. , issuing from a red and white rose, with the effigy of the newKing's mother, Jane Seymour, represented by his side. One branch sprangfrom this pair, which mounted to a third stage, where sat the effigy ofEdward VI. Himself, enthroned in royal majesty; and the whole pageant wasframed with wreaths of roses, red and white. '

This quaint and gaudy spectacle so wrought upon the rejoicing people, that their acclamations utterly smothered the small voice of the childwhose business it was to explain the thing in eulogistic rhymes. But TomCanty was not sorry; for this loyal uproar was sweeter music to him thanany poetry, no matter what its quality might be. Whithersoever Tomturned his happy young face, the people recognised the exactness of hiseffigy's likeness to himself, the flesh and blood counterpart; and newwhirlwinds of applause burst forth. 

The great pageant moved on, and still on, under one triumphal arch afteranother, and past a bewildering succession of spectacular and symbolicaltableaux, each of which typified and exalted some virtue, or talent, ormerit, of the little King's. 'Throughout the whole of Cheapside, fromevery penthouse and window, hung banners and streamers; and the richestcarpets, stuffs, and cloth-of-gold tapestried the streets--specimens ofthe great wealth of the stores within; and the splendour of thisthoroughfare was equalled in the other streets, and in some evensurpassed. '

"And all these wonders and these marvels are to welcome me--me!" murmuredTom Canty. 

The mock King's cheeks were flushed with excitement, his eyes wereflashing, his senses swam in a delirium of pleasure. At this point, justas he was raising his hand to fling another rich largess, he caught sightof a pale, astounded face, which was strained forward out of the secondrank of the crowd, its intense eyes riveted upon him. A sickeningconsternation struck through him; he recognised his mother! and up flewhis hand, palm outward, before his eyes--that old involuntary gesture, born of a forgotten episode, and perpetuated by habit. In an instantmore she had torn her way out of the press, and past the guards, and wasat his side. She embraced his leg, she covered it with kisses, shecried, "O my child, my darling!" lifting toward him a face that wastransfigured with joy and love. The same instant an officer of theKing's Guard snatched her away with a curse, and sent her reeling backwhence she came with a vigorous impulse from his strong arm. The words"I do not know you, woman!" were falling from Tom Canty's lips when thispiteous thing occurred; but it smote him to the heart to see her treatedso; and as she turned for a last glimpse of him, whilst the crowd wasswallowing her from his sight, she seemed so wounded, so broken-hearted, that a shame fell upon him which consumed his pride to ashes, andwithered his stolen royalty. His grandeurs were stricken valueless:they seemed to fall away from him like rotten rags. 

The procession moved on, and still on, through ever augmenting splendoursand ever augmenting tempests of welcome; but to Tom Canty they were as ifthey had not been. He neither saw nor heard. Royalty had lost its graceand sweetness; its pomps were become a reproach. Remorse was eating hisheart out. He said, "Would God I were free of my captivity!"

He had unconsciously dropped back into the phraseology of the first daysof his compulsory greatness. 

The shining pageant still went winding like a radiant and interminableserpent down the crooked lanes of the quaint old city, and through thehuzzaing hosts; but still the King rode with bowed head and vacant eyes, seeing only his mother's face and that wounded look in it. 

"Largess, largess!" The cry fell upon an unheeding ear. 

"Long live Edward of England!" It seemed as if the earth shook with theexplosion; but there was no response from the King. He heard it only asone hears the thunder of the surf when it is blown to the ear out of agreat distance, for it was smothered under another sound which was stillnearer, in his own breast, in his accusing conscience--a voice which keptrepeating those shameful words, "I do not know you, woman!"

The words smote upon the King's soul as the strokes of a funeral bellsmite upon the soul of a surviving friend when they remind him of secrettreacheries suffered at his hands by him that is gone. 

New glories were unfolded at every turning; new wonders, new marvels, sprang into view; the pent clamours of waiting batteries were released;new raptures poured from the throats of the waiting multitudes: but theKing gave no sign, and the accusing voice that went moaning through hiscomfortless breast was all the sound he heard. 

By-and-by the gladness in the faces of the populace changed a little, andbecame touched with a something like solicitude or anxiety: an abatementin the volume of the applause was observable too. The Lord Protector wasquick to notice these things: he was as quick to detect the cause. Hespurred to the King's side, bent low in his saddle, uncovered, and said--

"My liege, it is an ill time for dreaming. The people observe thydowncast head, thy clouded mien, and they take it for an omen. Beadvised: unveil the sun of royalty, and let it shine upon these bodingvapours, and disperse them. Lift up thy face, and smile upon thepeople. "

So saying, the Duke scattered a handful of coins to right and left, thenretired to his place. The mock King did mechanically as he had beenbidden. His smile had no heart in it, but few eyes were near enough orsharp enough to detect that. The noddings of his plumed head as hesaluted his subjects were full of grace and graciousness; the largesswhich he delivered from his hand was royally liberal: so the people'sanxiety vanished, and the acclamations burst forth again in as mighty avolume as before. 

Still once more, a little before the progress was ended, the Duke wasobliged to ride forward, and make remonstrance. He whispered--

"O dread sovereign! shake off these fatal humours; the eyes of the worldare upon thee. " Then he added with sharp annoyance, "Perdition catchthat crazy pauper! 'twas she that hath disturbed your Highness. "

The gorgeous figure turned a lustreless eye upon the Duke, and said in adead voice--

"She was my mother!"

"My God!" groaned the Protector as he reined his horse backward to hispost, "the omen was pregnant with prophecy. He is gone mad again!"

Chapter XXXII. Coronation Day. 

Let us go backward a few hours, and place ourselves in Westminster Abbey, at four o'clock in the morning of this memorable Coronation Day. We arenot without company; for although it is still night, we find thetorch-lighted galleries already filling up with people who are wellcontent to sit still and wait seven or eight hours till the time shallcome for them to see what they may not hope to see twice in their lives--the coronation of a King. Yes, London and Westminster have been astirever since the warning guns boomed at three o'clock, and already crowdsof untitled rich folk who have bought the privilege of trying to findsitting-room in the galleries are flocking in at the entrances reservedfor their sort. 

The hours drag along tediously enough. All stir has ceased for sometime, for every gallery has long ago been packed. We may sit, now, andlook and think at our leisure. We have glimpses, here and there andyonder, through the dim cathedral twilight, of portions of many galleriesand balconies, wedged full with other people, the other portions of thesegalleries and balconies being cut off from sight by intervening pillarsand architectural projections. We have in view the whole of the greatnorth transept--empty, and waiting for England's privileged ones. We seealso the ample area or platform, carpeted with rich stuffs, whereon thethrone stands. The throne occupies the centre of the platform, and israised above it upon an elevation of four steps. Within the seat of thethrone is enclosed a rough flat rock--the stone of Scone--which manygenerations of Scottish kings sat on to be crowned, and so it in timebecame holy enough to answer a like purpose for English monarchs. Boththe throne and its footstool are covered with cloth of gold. 

Stillness reigns, the torches blink dully, the time drags heavily. But atlast the lagging daylight asserts itself, the torches are extinguished, and a mellow radiance suffuses the great spaces. All features of thenoble building are distinct now, but soft and dreamy, for the sun islightly veiled with clouds. 

At seven o'clock the first break in the drowsy monotony occurs; for onthe stroke of this hour the first peeress enters the transept, clothedlike Solomon for splendour, and is conducted to her appointed place by anofficial clad in satins and velvets, whilst a duplicate of him gathers upthe lady's long train, follows after, and, when the lady is seated, arranges the train across her lap for her. He then places her footstoolaccording to her desire, after which he puts her coronet where it will beconvenient to her hand when the time for the simultaneous coroneting ofthe nobles shall arrive. 

By this time the peeresses are flowing in in a glittering stream, and thesatin-clad officials are flitting and glinting everywhere, seating themand making them comfortable. The scene is animated enough now. There isstir and life, and shifting colour everywhere. After a time, quietreigns again; for the peeresses are all come and are all in their places, a solid acre or such a matter, of human flowers, resplendent invariegated colours, and frosted like a Milky Way with diamonds. Thereare all ages here: brown, wrinkled, white-haired dowagers who are able togo back, and still back, down the stream of time, and recall the crowningof Richard III. And the troublous days of that old forgotten age; andthere are handsome middle-aged dames; and lovely and gracious youngmatrons; and gentle and beautiful young girls, with beaming eyes andfresh complexions, who may possibly put on their jewelled coronetsawkwardly when the great time comes; for the matter will be new to them, and their excitement will be a sore hindrance. Still, this may nothappen, for the hair of all these ladies has been arranged with a specialview to the swift and successful lodging of the crown in its place whenthe signal comes. 

We have seen that this massed array of peeresses is sown thick withdiamonds, and we also see that it is a marvellous spectacle--but now weare about to be astonished in earnest. About nine, the clouds suddenlybreak away and a shaft of sunshine cleaves the mellow atmosphere, anddrifts slowly along the ranks of ladies; and every rank it touches flamesinto a dazzling splendour of many-coloured fires, and we tingle to ourfinger-tips with the electric thrill that is shot through us by thesurprise and the beauty of the spectacle! Presently a special envoy fromsome distant corner of the Orient, marching with the general body offoreign ambassadors, crosses this bar of sunshine, and we catch ourbreath, the glory that streams and flashes and palpitates about him is sooverpowering; for he is crusted from head to heel with gems, and hisslightest movement showers a dancing radiance all around him. 

Let us change the tense for convenience. The time drifted along--onehour--two hours--two hours and a half; then the deep booming of artillerytold that the King and his grand procession had arrived at last; so thewaiting multitude rejoiced. All knew that a further delay must follow, for the King must be prepared and robed for the solemn ceremony; but thisdelay would be pleasantly occupied by the assembling of the peers of therealm in their stately robes. These were conducted ceremoniously totheir seats, and their coronets placed conveniently at hand; andmeanwhile the multitude in the galleries were alive with interest, formost of them were beholding for the first time, dukes, earls, and barons, whose names had been historical for five hundred years. When all werefinally seated, the spectacle from the galleries and all coigns ofvantage was complete; a gorgeous one to look upon and to remember. 

Now the robed and mitred great heads of the church, and their attendants, filed in upon the platform and took their appointed places; these werefollowed by the Lord Protector and other great officials, and these againby a steel-clad detachment of the Guard. 

There was a waiting pause; then, at a signal, a triumphant peal of musicburst forth, and Tom Canty, clothed in a long robe of cloth of gold, appeared at a door, and stepped upon the platform. The entire multituderose, and the ceremony of the Recognition ensued. 

Then a noble anthem swept the Abbey with its rich waves of sound; andthus heralded and welcomed, Tom Canty was conducted to the throne. Theancient ceremonies went on, with impressive solemnity, whilst theaudience gazed; and as they drew nearer and nearer to completion, TomCanty grew pale, and still paler, and a deep and steadily deepening woeand despondency settled down upon his spirits and upon his remorsefulheart. 

At last the final act was at hand. The Archbishop of Canterbury liftedup the crown of England from its cushion and held it out over thetrembling mock-King's head. In the same instant a rainbow-radianceflashed along the spacious transept; for with one impulse everyindividual in the great concourse of nobles lifted a coronet and poisedit over his or her head--and paused in that attitude. 

A deep hush pervaded the Abbey. At this impressive moment, a startlingapparition intruded upon the scene--an apparition observed by none in theabsorbed multitude, until it suddenly appeared, moving up the greatcentral aisle. It was a boy, bareheaded, ill shod, and clothed in coarseplebeian garments that were falling to rags. He raised his hand with asolemnity which ill comported with his soiled and sorry aspect, anddelivered this note of warning--

"I forbid you to set the crown of England upon that forfeited head. I amthe King!"

In an instant several indignant hands were laid upon the boy; but in thesame instant Tom Canty, in his regal vestments, made a swift stepforward, and cried out in a ringing voice--

"Loose him and forbear! He IS the King!"

A sort of panic of astonishment swept the assemblage, and they partlyrose in their places and stared in a bewildered way at one another and atthe chief figures in this scene, like persons who wondered whether theywere awake and in their senses, or asleep and dreaming. The LordProtector was as amazed as the rest, but quickly recovered himself, andexclaimed in a voice of authority--

"Mind not his Majesty, his malady is upon him again--seize the vagabond!"

He would have been obeyed, but the mock-King stamped his foot and criedout--

"On your peril! Touch him not, he is the King!"

The hands were withheld; a paralysis fell upon the house; no one moved, no one spoke; indeed, no one knew how to act or what to say, in sostrange and surprising an emergency. While all minds were struggling toright themselves, the boy still moved steadily forward, with high portand confident mien; he had never halted from the beginning; and while thetangled minds still floundered helplessly, he stepped upon the platform, and the mock-King ran with a glad face to meet him; and fell on his kneesbefore him and said--

"Oh, my lord the King, let poor Tom Canty be first to swear fealty tothee, and say, 'Put on thy crown and enter into thine own again!'"

The Lord Protector's eye fell sternly upon the new-comer's face; butstraightway the sternness vanished away, and gave place to an expressionof wondering surprise. This thing happened also to the other greatofficers. They glanced at each other, and retreated a step by a commonand unconscious impulse. The thought in each mind was the same: "What astrange resemblance!"

The Lord Protector reflected a moment or two in perplexity, then he said, with grave respectfulness--

"By your favour, sir, I desire to ask certain questions which--"

"I will answer them, my lord. "

The Duke asked him many questions about the Court, the late King, theprince, the princesses--the boy answered them correctly and withouthesitating. He described the rooms of state in the palace, the lateKing's apartments, and those of the Prince of Wales. 

It was strange; it was wonderful; yes, it was unaccountable--so all saidthat heard it. The tide was beginning to turn, and Tom Canty's hopes torun high, when the Lord Protector shook his head and said--

"It is true it is most wonderful--but it is no more than our lord theKing likewise can do. " This remark, and this reference to himself asstill the King, saddened Tom Canty, and he felt his hopes crumbling fromunder him. "These are not PROOFS, " added the Protector. 

The tide was turning very fast now, very fast indeed--but in the wrongdirection; it was leaving poor Tom Canty stranded on the throne, andsweeping the other out to sea. The Lord Protector communed with himself--shook his head--the thought forced itself upon him, "It is perilous tothe State and to us all, to entertain so fateful a riddle as this; itcould divide the nation and undermine the throne. " He turned and said--

"Sir Thomas, arrest this--No, hold!" His face lighted, and he confrontedthe ragged candidate with this question--

"Where lieth the Great Seal? Answer me this truly, and the riddle isunriddled; for only he that was Prince of Wales CAN so answer! On sotrivial a thing hang a throne and a dynasty!"

It was a lucky thought, a happy thought. That it was so considered bythe great officials was manifested by the silent applause that shot fromeye to eye around their circle in the form of bright approving glances. Yes, none but the true prince could dissolve the stubborn mystery of thevanished Great Seal--this forlorn little impostor had been taught hislesson well, but here his teachings must fail, for his teacher himselfcould not answer THAT question--ah, very good, very good indeed; now weshall be rid of this troublesome and perilous business in short order!And so they nodded invisibly and smiled inwardly with satisfaction, andlooked to see this foolish lad stricken with a palsy of guilty confusion. How surprised they were, then, to see nothing of the sort happen--howthey marvelled to hear him answer up promptly, in a confident anduntroubled voice, and say--

"There is nought in this riddle that is difficult. " Then, without somuch as a by-your-leave to anybody, he turned and gave this command, withthe easy manner of one accustomed to doing such things: "My Lord St. John, go you to my private cabinet in the palace--for none knoweth theplace better than you--and, close down to the floor, in the left cornerremotest from the door that opens from the ante-chamber, you shall findin the wall a brazen nail-head; press upon it and a little jewel-closetwill fly open which not even you do know of--no, nor any soul else inall the world but me and the trusty artisan that did contrive it for me. The first thing that falleth under your eye will be the Great Seal--fetchit hither. "

All the company wondered at this speech, and wondered still more to seethe little mendicant pick out this peer without hesitancy or apparentfear of mistake, and call him by name with such a placidly convincing airof having known him all his life. The peer was almost surprised intoobeying. He even made a movement as if to go, but quickly recovered histranquil attitude and confessed his blunder with a blush. Tom Cantyturned upon him and said, sharply--

"Why dost thou hesitate? Hast not heard the King's command? Go!"

The Lord St. John made a deep obeisance--and it was observed that it wasa significantly cautious and non-committal one, it not being delivered ateither of the kings, but at the neutral ground about half-way between thetwo--and took his leave. 

Now began a movement of the gorgeous particles of that official groupwhich was slow, scarcely perceptible, and yet steady and persistent--amovement such as is observed in a kaleidoscope that is turned slowly, whereby the components of one splendid cluster fall away and jointhemselves to another--a movement which, little by little, in the presentcase, dissolved the glittering crowd that stood about Tom Canty andclustered it together again in the neighbourhood of the new-comer. TomCanty stood almost alone. Now ensued a brief season of deep suspense andwaiting--during which even the few faint hearts still remaining near TomCanty gradually scraped together courage enough to glide, one by one, over to the majority. So at last Tom Canty, in his royal robes andjewels, stood wholly alone and isolated from the world, a conspicuousfigure, occupying an eloquent vacancy. 

Now the Lord St. John was seen returning. As he advanced up themid-aisle the interest was so intense that the low murmur of conversationin the great assemblage died out and was succeeded by a profound hush, abreathless stillness, through which his footfalls pulsed with a dull anddistant sound. Every eye was fastened upon him as he moved along. Hereached the platform, paused a moment, then moved toward Tom Canty with adeep obeisance, and said--

"Sire, the Seal is not there!"

A mob does not melt away from the presence of a plague-patient with morehaste than the band of pallid and terrified courtiers melted away fromthe presence of the shabby little claimant of the Crown. In a moment hestood all alone, without friend or supporter, a target upon which wasconcentrated a bitter fire of scornful and angry looks. The LordProtector called out fiercely--

"Cast the beggar into the street, and scourge him through the town--thepaltry knave is worth no more consideration!"

Officers of the guard sprang forward to obey, but Tom Canty waved themoff and said--

"Back! Whoso touches him perils his life!"

The Lord Protector was perplexed in the last degree. He said to the LordSt. John--

"Searched you well?--but it boots not to ask that. It doth seem passingstrange. Little things, trifles, slip out of one's ken, and one does notthink it matter for surprise; but how so bulky a thing as the Seal ofEngland can vanish away and no man be able to get track of it again--amassy golden disk--"

Tom Canty, with beaming eyes, sprang forward and shouted--

"Hold, that is enough! Was it round?--and thick?--and had it letters anddevices graved upon it?--yes? Oh, NOW I know what this Great Seal isthat there's been such worry and pother about. An' ye had described it tome, ye could have had it three weeks ago. Right well I know where itlies; but it was not I that put it there--first. "

"Who, then, my liege?" asked the Lord Protector. 

"He that stands there--the rightful King of England. And he shall tellyou himself where it lies--then you will believe he knew it of his ownknowledge. Bethink thee, my King--spur thy memory--it was the last, thevery LAST thing thou didst that day before thou didst rush forth from thepalace, clothed in my rags, to punish the soldier that insulted me. "

A silence ensued, undisturbed by a movement or a whisper, and all eyeswere fixed upon the new-comer, who stood, with bent head and corrugatedbrow, groping in his memory among a thronging multitude of valuelessrecollections for one single little elusive fact, which, found, wouldseat him upon a throne--unfound, would leave him as he was, for good andall--a pauper and an outcast. Moment after moment passed--the momentsbuilt themselves into minutes--still the boy struggled silently on, andgave no sign. But at last he heaved a sigh, shook his head slowly, andsaid, with a trembling lip and in a despondent voice--

"I call the scene back--all of it--but the Seal hath no place in it. " Hepaused, then looked up, and said with gentle dignity, "My lords andgentlemen, if ye will rob your rightful sovereign of his own for lack ofthis evidence which he is not able to furnish, I may not stay ye, beingpowerless. But--"

"Oh, folly, oh, madness, my King!" cried Tom Canty, in a panic, "wait!--think! Do not give up!--the cause is not lost! Nor SHALL be, neither!List to what I say--follow every word--I am going to bring that morningback again, every hap just as it happened. We talked--I told you of mysisters, Nan and Bet--ah, yes, you remember that; and about mine oldgrandam--and the rough games of the lads of Offal Court--yes, youremember these things also; very well, follow me still, you shall recalleverything. You gave me food and drink, and did with princely courtesysend away the servants, so that my low breeding might not shame me beforethem--ah, yes, this also you remember. "

As Tom checked off his details, and the other boy nodded his head inrecognition of them, the great audience and the officials stared inpuzzled wonderment; the tale sounded like true history, yet how couldthis impossible conjunction between a prince and a beggar-boy have comeabout? Never was a company of people so perplexed, so interested, and sostupefied, before. 

"For a jest, my prince, we did exchange garments. Then we stood before amirror; and so alike were we that both said it seemed as if there hadbeen no change made--yes, you remember that. Then you noticed that thesoldier had hurt my hand--look! here it is, I cannot yet even write withit, the fingers are so stiff. At this your Highness sprang up, vowingvengeance upon that soldier, and ran towards the door--you passed atable--that thing you call the Seal lay on that table--you snatched it upand looked eagerly about, as if for a place to hide it--your eye caughtsight of--"

"There, 'tis sufficient!--and the good God be thanked!" exclaimed theragged claimant, in a mighty excitement. "Go, my good St. John--in anarm-piece of the Milanese armour that hangs on the wall, thou'lt find theSeal!"

"Right, my King! right!" cried Tom Canty; "NOW the sceptre of England isthine own; and it were better for him that would dispute it that he hadbeen born dumb! Go, my Lord St. John, give thy feet wings!"

The whole assemblage was on its feet now, and well-nigh out of its mindwith uneasiness, apprehension, and consuming excitement. On the floorand on the platform a deafening buzz of frantic conversation burst forth, and for some time nobody knew anything or heard anything or wasinterested in anything but what his neighbour was shouting into his ear, or he was shouting into his neighbour's ear. Time--nobody knew how muchof it--swept by unheeded and unnoted. At last a sudden hush fell uponthe house, and in the same moment St. John appeared upon the platform, and held the Great Seal aloft in his hand. Then such a shout went up--

"Long live the true King!"

For five minutes the air quaked with shouts and the crash of musicalinstruments, and was white with a storm of waving handkerchiefs; andthrough it all a ragged lad, the most conspicuous figure in England, stood, flushed and happy and proud, in the centre of the spaciousplatform, with the great vassals of the kingdom kneeling around him. 

Then all rose, and Tom Canty cried out--

"Now, O my King, take these regal garments back, and give poor Tom, thyservant, his shreds and remnants again. "

The Lord Protector spoke up--

"Let the small varlet be stripped and flung into the Tower. "

But the new King, the true King, said--

"I will not have it so. But for him I had not got my crown again--noneshall lay a hand upon him to harm him. And as for thee, my good uncle, my Lord Protector, this conduct of thine is not grateful toward this poorlad, for I hear he hath made thee a duke"--the Protector blushed--"yet hewas not a king; wherefore what is thy fine title worth now? To-morrowyou shall sue to me, THROUGH HIM, for its confirmation, else no duke, buta simple earl, shalt thou remain. "

Under this rebuke, his Grace the Duke of Somerset retired a little fromthe front for the moment. The King turned to Tom, and said kindly--"Mypoor boy, how was it that you could remember where I hid the Seal when Icould not remember it myself?"

"Ah, my King, that was easy, since I used it divers days. "

"Used it--yet could not explain where it was?"

"I did not know it was THAT they wanted. They did not describe it, yourMajesty. "

"Then how used you it?"

The red blood began to steal up into Tom's cheeks, and he dropped hiseyes and was silent. 

"Speak up, good lad, and fear nothing, " said the King. "How used you theGreat Seal of England?"

Tom stammered a moment, in a pathetic confusion, then got it out--

"To crack nuts with!"

Poor child, the avalanche of laughter that greeted this nearly swept himoff his feet. But if a doubt remained in any mind that Tom Canty was notthe King of England and familiar with the august appurtenances ofroyalty, this reply disposed of it utterly. 

Meantime the sumptuous robe of state had been removed from Tom'sshoulders to the King's, whose rags were effectually hidden from sightunder it. Then the coronation ceremonies were resumed; the true King wasanointed and the crown set upon his head, whilst cannon thundered thenews to the city, and all London seemed to rock with applause. 

Chapter XXXIII. Edward as King. 

Miles Hendon was picturesque enough before he got into the riot on LondonBridge--he was more so when he got out of it. He had but little moneywhen he got in, none at all when he got out. The pickpockets hadstripped him of his last farthing. 

But no matter, so he found his boy. Being a soldier, he did not go athis task in a random way, but set to work, first of all, to arrange hiscampaign. 

What would the boy naturally do? Where would he naturally go? Well--argued Miles--he would naturally go to his former haunts, for that is theinstinct of unsound minds, when homeless and forsaken, as well as ofsound ones. Whereabouts were his former haunts? His rags, takentogether with the low villain who seemed to know him and who even claimedto be his father, indicated that his home was in one or another of thepoorest and meanest districts of London. Would the search for him bedifficult, or long? No, it was likely to be easy and brief. He wouldnot hunt for the boy, he would hunt for a crowd; in the centre of a bigcrowd or a little one, sooner or later, he should find his poor littlefriend, sure; and the mangy mob would be entertaining itself withpestering and aggravating the boy, who would be proclaiming himself King, as usual. Then Miles Hendon would cripple some of those people, andcarry off his little ward, and comfort and cheer him with loving words, and the two would never be separated any more. 

So Miles started on his quest. Hour after hour he tramped through backalleys and squalid streets, seeking groups and crowds, and finding no endof them, but never any sign of the boy. This greatly surprised him, butdid not discourage him. To his notion, there was nothing the matter withhis plan of campaign; the only miscalculation about it was that thecampaign was becoming a lengthy one, whereas he had expected it to beshort. 

When daylight arrived, at last, he had made many a mile, and canvassedmany a crowd, but the only result was that he was tolerably tired, ratherhungry and very sleepy. He wanted some breakfast, but there was no wayto get it. To beg for it did not occur to him; as to pawning his sword, he would as soon have thought of parting with his honour; he could sparesome of his clothes--yes, but one could as easily find a customer for adisease as for such clothes. 

At noon he was still tramping--among the rabble which followed after theroyal procession, now; for he argued that this regal display wouldattract his little lunatic powerfully. He followed the pageant throughall its devious windings about London, and all the way to Westminster andthe Abbey. He drifted here and there amongst the multitudes that weremassed in the vicinity for a weary long time, baffled and perplexed, andfinally wandered off, thinking, and trying to contrive some way to betterhis plan of campaign. By-and-by, when he came to himself out of hismusings, he discovered that the town was far behind him and that the daywas growing old. He was near the river, and in the country; it was aregion of fine rural seats--not the sort of district to welcome clotheslike his. 

It was not at all cold; so he stretched himself on the ground in the leeof a hedge to rest and think. Drowsiness presently began to settle uponhis senses; the faint and far-off boom of cannon was wafted to his ear, and he said to himself, "The new King is crowned, " and straightway fellasleep. He had not slept or rested, before, for more than thirty hours. He did not wake again until near the middle of the next morning. 

He got up, lame, stiff, and half famished, washed himself in the river, stayed his stomach with a pint or two of water, and trudged off towardWestminster, grumbling at himself for having wasted so much time. Hungerhelped him to a new plan, now; he would try to get speech with old SirHumphrey Marlow and borrow a few marks, and--but that was enough of aplan for the present; it would be time enough to enlarge it when thisfirst stage should be accomplished. 

Toward eleven o'clock he approached the palace; and although a host ofshowy people were about him, moving in the same direction, he was notinconspicuous--his costume took care of that. He watched these people'sfaces narrowly, hoping to find a charitable one whose possessor might bewilling to carry his name to the old lieutenant--as to trying to get intothe palace himself, that was simply out of the question. 

Presently our whipping-boy passed him, then wheeled about and scanned hisfigure well, saying to himself, "An' that is not the very vagabond hisMajesty is in such a worry about, then am I an ass--though belike I wasthat before. He answereth the description to a rag--that God should maketwo such would be to cheapen miracles by wasteful repetition. I would Icould contrive an excuse to speak with him. "

Miles Hendon saved him the trouble; for he turned about, then, as a mangenerally will when somebody mesmerises him by gazing hard at him frombehind; and observing a strong interest in the boy's eyes, he steppedtoward him and said--

"You have just come out from the palace; do you belong there?"

"Yes, your worship. "

"Know you Sir Humphrey Marlow?"

The boy started, and said to himself, "Lord! mine old departed father!"Then he answered aloud, "Right well, your worship. "

"Good--is he within?"

"Yes, " said the boy; and added, to himself, "within his grave. "

"Might I crave your favour to carry my name to him, and say I beg to saya word in his ear?"

"I will despatch the business right willingly, fair sir. "

"Then say Miles Hendon, son of Sir Richard, is here without--I shall begreatly bounden to you, my good lad. "

The boy looked disappointed. "The King did not name him so, " he said tohimself; "but it mattereth not, this is his twin brother, and can givehis Majesty news of t'other Sir-Odds-and-Ends, I warrant. " So he said toMiles, "Step in there a moment, good sir, and wait till I bring youword. "

Hendon retired to the place indicated--it was a recess sunk in the palacewall, with a stone bench in it--a shelter for sentinels in bad weather. He had hardly seated himself when some halberdiers, in charge of anofficer, passed by. The officer saw him, halted his men, and commandedHendon to come forth. He obeyed, and was promptly arrested as asuspicious character prowling within the precincts of the palace. Thingsbegan to look ugly. Poor Miles was going to explain, but the officerroughly silenced him, and ordered his men to disarm him and search him. 

"God of his mercy grant that they find somewhat, " said poor Miles; "Ihave searched enow, and failed, yet is my need greater than theirs. "

Nothing was found but a document. The officer tore it open, and Hendonsmiled when he recognised the 'pot-hooks' made by his lost little friendthat black day at Hendon Hall. The officer's face grew dark as he readthe English paragraph, and Miles blenched to the opposite colour as helistened. 

"Another new claimant of the Crown!" cried the officer. "Verily theybreed like rabbits, to-day. Seize the rascal, men, and see ye keep himfast whilst I convey this precious paper within and send it to the King. "

He hurried away, leaving the prisoner in the grip of the halberdiers. 

"Now is my evil luck ended at last, " muttered Hendon, "for I shall dangleat a rope's end for a certainty, by reason of that bit of writing. Andwhat will become of my poor lad!--ah, only the good God knoweth. "

By-and-by he saw the officer coming again, in a great hurry; so heplucked his courage together, purposing to meet his trouble as became aman. The officer ordered the men to loose the prisoner and return hissword to him; then bowed respectfully, and said--

"Please you, sir, to follow me. "

Hendon followed, saying to himself, "An' I were not travelling to deathand judgment, and so must needs economise in sin, I would throttle thisknave for his mock courtesy. "

The two traversed a populous court, and arrived at the grand entrance ofthe palace, where the officer, with another bow, delivered Hendon intothe hands of a gorgeous official, who received him with profound respectand led him forward through a great hall, lined on both sides with rowsof splendid flunkeys (who made reverential obeisance as the two passedalong, but fell into death-throes of silent laughter at our statelyscarecrow the moment his back was turned), and up a broad staircase, among flocks of fine folk, and finally conducted him into a vast room, clove a passage for him through the assembled nobility of England, thenmade a bow, reminded him to take his hat off, and left him standing inthe middle of the room, a mark for all eyes, for plenty of indignantfrowns, and for a sufficiency of amused and derisive smiles. 

Miles Hendon was entirely bewildered. There sat the young King, under acanopy of state, five steps away, with his head bent down and aside, speaking with a sort of human bird of paradise--a duke, maybe. Hendonobserved to himself that it was hard enough to be sentenced to death inthe full vigour of life, without having this peculiarly publichumiliation added. He wished the King would hurry about it--some of thegaudy people near by were becoming pretty offensive. At this moment theKing raised his head slightly, and Hendon caught a good view of his face. The sight nearly took his breath away!--He stood gazing at the fair youngface like one transfixed; then presently ejaculated--

"Lo, the Lord of the Kingdom of Dreams and Shadows on his throne!"

He muttered some broken sentences, still gazing and marvelling; thenturned his eyes around and about, scanning the gorgeous throng and thesplendid saloon, murmuring, "But these are REAL--verily these are REAL--surely it is not a dream. "

He stared at the King again--and thought, "IS it a dream . . . Or IS hethe veritable Sovereign of England, and not the friendless poor Tom o'Bedlam I took him for--who shall solve me this riddle?"

A sudden idea flashed in his eye, and he strode to the wall, gathered upa chair, brought it back, planted it on the floor, and sat down in it!

A buzz of indignation broke out, a rough hand was laid upon him and avoice exclaimed--

"Up, thou mannerless clown! would'st sit in the presence of the King?"

The disturbance attracted his Majesty's attention, who stretched forthhis hand and cried out--

"Touch him not, it is his right!"

The throng fell back, stupefied. The King went on--

"Learn ye all, ladies, lords, and gentlemen, that this is my trusty andwell-beloved servant, Miles Hendon, who interposed his good sword andsaved his prince from bodily harm and possible death--and for this he isa knight, by the King's voice. Also learn, that for a higher service, inthat he saved his sovereign stripes and shame, taking these upon himself, he is a peer of England, Earl of Kent, and shall have gold and lands meetfor the dignity. More--the privilege which he hath just exercised is hisby royal grant; for we have ordained that the chiefs of his line shallhave and hold the right to sit in the presence of the Majesty of Englandhenceforth, age after age, so long as the crown shall endure. Molest himnot. "

Two persons, who, through delay, had only arrived from the country duringthis morning, and had now been in this room only five minutes, stoodlistening to these words and looking at the King, then at the scarecrow, then at the King again, in a sort of torpid bewilderment. These were SirHugh and the Lady Edith. But the new Earl did not see them. He wasstill staring at the monarch, in a dazed way, and muttering--

"Oh, body o' me! THIS my pauper! This my lunatic! This is he whom _I_would show what grandeur was, in my house of seventy rooms andseven-and-twenty servants! This is he who had never known aught but ragsfor raiment, kicks for comfort, and offal for diet! This is he whom _I_adopted and would make respectable! Would God I had a bag to hide my headin!"

Then his manners suddenly came back to him, and he dropped upon hisknees, with his hands between the King's, and swore allegiance and didhomage for his lands and titles. Then he rose and stood respectfullyaside, a mark still for all eyes--and much envy, too. 

Now the King discovered Sir Hugh, and spoke out with wrathful voice andkindling eye--

"Strip this robber of his false show and stolen estates, and put himunder lock and key till I have need of him. "

The late Sir Hugh was led away. 

There was a stir at the other end of the room, now; the assemblage fellapart, and Tom Canty, quaintly but richly clothed, marched down, betweenthese living walls, preceded by an usher. He knelt before the King, whosaid--

"I have learned the story of these past few weeks, and am well pleasedwith thee. Thou hast governed the realm with right royal gentleness andmercy. Thou hast found thy mother and thy sisters again? Good; theyshall be cared for--and thy father shall hang, if thou desire it and thelaw consent. Know, all ye that hear my voice, that from this day, theythat abide in the shelter of Christ's Hospital and share the King'sbounty shall have their minds and hearts fed, as well as their baserparts; and this boy shall dwell there, and hold the chief place in itshonourable body of governors, during life. And for that he hath been aking, it is meet that other than common observance shall be his due;wherefore note this his dress of state, for by it he shall be known, andnone shall copy it; and wheresoever he shall come, it shall remind thepeople that he hath been royal, in his time, and none shall deny him hisdue of reverence or fail to give him salutation. He hath the throne'sprotection, he hath the crown's support, he shall be known and called bythe honourable title of the King's Ward. "

The proud and happy Tom Canty rose and kissed the King's hand, and wasconducted from the presence. He did not waste any time, but flew to hismother, to tell her and Nan and Bet all about it and get them to help himenjoy the great news. {1}

Conclusion. Justice and retribution. 

When the mysteries were all cleared up, it came out, by confession ofHugh Hendon, that his wife had repudiated Miles by his command, that dayat Hendon Hall--a command assisted and supported by the perfectlytrustworthy promise that if she did not deny that he was Miles Hendon, and stand firmly to it, he would have her life; whereupon she said, "Takeit!"--she did not value it--and she would not repudiate Miles; then thehusband said he would spare her life but have Miles assassinated! Thiswas a different matter; so she gave her word and kept it. 

Hugh was not prosecuted for his threats or for stealing his brother'sestates and title, because the wife and brother would not testify againsthim--and the former would not have been allowed to do it, even if she hadwanted to. Hugh deserted his wife and went over to the continent, wherehe presently died; and by-and-by the Earl of Kent married his relict. There were grand times and rejoicings at Hendon village when the couplepaid their first visit to the Hall. 

Tom Canty's father was never heard of again. 

The King sought out the farmer who had been branded and sold as a slave, and reclaimed him from his evil life with the Ruffler's gang, and put himin the way of a comfortable livelihood. 

He also took that old lawyer out of prison and remitted his fine. Heprovided good homes for the daughters of the two Baptist women whom hesaw burned at the stake, and roundly punished the official who laid theundeserved stripes upon Miles Hendon's back. 

He saved from the gallows the boy who had captured the stray falcon, andalso the woman who had stolen a remnant of cloth from a weaver; but hewas too late to save the man who had been convicted of killing a deer inthe royal forest. 

He showed favour to the justice who had pitied him when he was supposedto have stolen a pig, and he had the gratification of seeing him grow inthe public esteem and become a great and honoured man. 

As long as the King lived he was fond of telling the story of hisadventures, all through, from the hour that the sentinel cuffed him awayfrom the palace gate till the final midnight when he deftly mixed himselfinto a gang of hurrying workmen and so slipped into the Abbey and climbedup and hid himself in the Confessor's tomb, and then slept so long, nextday, that he came within one of missing the Coronation altogether. Hesaid that the frequent rehearsing of the precious lesson kept him strongin his purpose to make its teachings yield benefits to his people; andso, whilst his life was spared he should continue to tell the story, andthus keep its sorrowful spectacles fresh in his memory and the springs ofpity replenished in his heart. 

Miles Hendon and Tom Canty were favourites of the King, all through hisbrief reign, and his sincere mourners when he died. The good Earl of Kenthad too much sense to abuse his peculiar privilege; but he exercised ittwice after the instance we have seen of it before he was called fromthis world--once at the accession of Queen Mary, and once at theaccession of Queen Elizabeth. A descendant of his exercised it at theaccession of James I. Before this one's son chose to use the privilege, near a quarter of a century had elapsed, and the 'privilege of the Kents'had faded out of most people's memories; so, when the Kent of that dayappeared before Charles I. And his court and sat down in the sovereign'spresence to assert and perpetuate the right of his house, there was afine stir indeed! But the matter was soon explained, and the rightconfirmed. The last Earl of the line fell in the wars of theCommonwealth fighting for the King, and the odd privilege ended with him. 

Tom Canty lived to be a very old man, a handsome, white-haired oldfellow, of grave and benignant aspect. As long as he lasted he washonoured; and he was also reverenced, for his striking and peculiarcostume kept the people reminded that 'in his time he had been royal;'so, wherever he appeared the crowd fell apart, making way for him, andwhispering, one to another, "Doff thy hat, it is the King's Ward!"--andso they saluted, and got his kindly smile in return--and they valued it, too, for his was an honourable history. 

Yes, King Edward VI. Lived only a few years, poor boy, but he lived themworthily. More than once, when some great dignitary, some gilded vassalof the crown, made argument against his leniency, and urged that some lawwhich he was bent upon amending was gentle enough for its purpose, andwrought no suffering or oppression which any one need mightily mind, theyoung King turned the mournful eloquence of his great compassionate eyesupon him and answered--

"What dost THOU know of suffering and oppression? I and my people know, but not thou. "

The reign of Edward VI. Was a singularly merciful one for those harshtimes. Now that we are taking leave of him, let us try to keep this inour minds, to his credit. 

FOOTNOTES AND TWAIN'S NOTES

{1} For Mark Twain's note see below under the relevant chapter heading. 

{2} He refers to the order of baronets, or baronettes; the baronesminores, as distinct from the parliamentary barons--not, it need hardlybe said, to the baronets of later creation. 

{3} The lords of Kingsale, descendants of De Courcy, still enjoy thiscurious privilege. 

{4} Hume. 

{5} Ib. 

{6} Leigh Hunt's 'The Town, ' p. 408, quotation from an early tourist. 

{7} Canting terms for various kinds of thieves, beggars and vagabonds, and their female companions. 

{8} From 'The English Rogue. ' London, 1665. 

{9} Hume's England. 

{10} See Dr. J. Hammond Trumbull's Blue Laws, True and False, p. 11. 

NOTE 1, Chapter IV. Christ's Hospital Costume. 

It is most reasonable to regard the dress as copied from the costume ofthe citizens of London of that period, when long blue coats were thecommon habit of apprentices and serving-men, and yellow stockings weregenerally worn; the coat fits closely to the body, but has loose sleeves, and beneath is worn a sleeveless yellow under-coat; around the waist is ared leathern girdle; a clerical band around the neck, and a small flatblack cap, about the size of a saucer, completes the costume. --Timbs'Curiosities of London. 

NOTE 2, Chapter IV. 

It appears that Christ's Hospital was not originally founded as a SCHOOL;its object was to rescue children from the streets, to shelter, feed, clothe them. --Timbs' Curiosities of London. 

NOTE 3, Chapter V. The Duke of Norfolk's Condemnation commanded. 

The King was now approaching fast towards his end; and fearing lestNorfolk should escape him, he sent a message to the Commons, by which hedesired them to hasten the Bill, on pretence that Norfolk enjoyed thedignity of Earl Marshal, and it was necessary to appoint another, whomight officiate at the ensuing ceremony of installing his son Prince ofWales. --Hume's History of England, vol. Iii. P. 307. 

NOTE 4, Chapter VII. 

It was not till the end of this reign (Henry VIII. ) that any salads, carrots, turnips, or other edible roots were produced in England. Thelittle of these vegetables that was used was formerly imported fromHolland and Flanders. Queen Catherine, when she wanted a salad, wasobliged to despatch a messenger thither on purpose. --Hume's History ofEngland, vol. Iii. P. 314. 

NOTE 5, Chapter VIII. Attainder of Norfolk. 

The House of Peers, without examining the prisoner, without trial orevidence, passed a Bill of Attainder against him and sent it down to theCommons . . . The obsequious Commons obeyed his (the King's) directions;and the King, having affixed the Royal assent to the Bill bycommissioners, issued orders for the execution of Norfolk on the morningof January 29 (the next day). --Hume's History of England, vol iii. P 306. 

NOTE 6, Chapter X. The Loving-cup. 

The loving-cup, and the peculiar ceremonies observed in drinking from it, are older than English history. It is thought that both are Danishimportations. As far back as knowledge goes, the loving-cup has alwaysbeen drunk at English banquets. Tradition explains the ceremonies inthis way. In the rude ancient times it was deemed a wise precaution tohave both hands of both drinkers employed, lest while the pledger pledgedhis love and fidelity to the pledgee, the pledgee take that opportunityto slip a dirk into him!

NOTE 7, Chapter XI. The Duke of Norfolk's narrow Escape. 

Had Henry VIII. Survived a few hours longer, his order for the duke'sexecution would have been carried into effect. 'But news being carried tothe Tower that the King himself had expired that night, the lieutenantdeferred obeying the warrant; and it was not thought advisable by theCouncil to begin a new reign by the death of the greatest nobleman in thekingdom, who had been condemned by a sentence so unjust and tyrannical. '--Hume's History of England, vol. Iii, p. 307. 

NOTE 8, Chapter XIV. The Whipping-boy. 

James I. And Charles II. Had whipping-boys, when they were littlefellows, to take their punishment for them when they fell short in theirlessons; so I have ventured to furnish my small prince with one, for myown purposes. 

NOTES to Chapter XV. 

Character of Hertford. 

The young King discovered an extreme attachment to his uncle, who was, inthe main, a man of moderation and probity. --Hume's History of England, vol. Iii, p324. 

But if he (the Protector) gave offence by assuming too much state, hedeserves great praise on account of the laws passed this session, bywhich the rigour of former statutes was much mitigated, and some securitygiven to the freedom of the constitution. All laws were repealed whichextended the crime of treason beyond the statute of the twenty-fifth ofEdward III. ; all laws enacted during the late reign extending the crimeof felony; all the former laws against Lollardy or heresy, together withthe statute of the Six Articles. None were to be accused for words, butwithin a month after they were spoken. By these repeals several of themost rigorous laws that ever had passed in England were annulled; andsome dawn, both of civil and religious liberty, began to appear to thepeople. A repeal also passed of that law, the destruction of all laws, by which the King's proclamation was made of equal force with a statute. --Ibid. Vol. Iii. P. 339. 

Boiling to Death. 

In the reign of Henry VIII. Poisoners were, by Act of Parliament, condemned to be BOILED TO DEATH. This Act was repealed in the followingreign. 

In Germany, even in the seventeenth century, this horrible punishment wasinflicted on coiners and counterfeiters. Taylor, the Water Poet, describes an execution he witnessed in Hamburg in 1616. The judgmentpronounced against a coiner of false money was that he should 'BE BOILEDTO DEATH IN OIL; not thrown into the vessel at once, but with a pulley orrope to be hanged under the armpits, and then let down into the oil BYDEGREES; first the feet, and next the legs, and so to boil his flesh fromhis bones alive. '--Dr. J. Hammond Trumbull's Blue Laws, True and False, p. 13. 

The Famous Stocking Case. 

A woman and her daughter, NINE YEARS OLD, were hanged in Huntingdon forselling their souls to the devil, and raising a storm by pulling offtheir stockings!--Dr. J. Hammond Trumbull's Blue Laws, True and False, p. 20. 

NOTE 10, Chapter XVII. Enslaving. 

So young a King and so ignorant a peasant were likely to make mistakes;and this is an instance in point. This peasant was suffering from thislaw BY ANTICIPATION; the King was venting his indignation against a lawwhich was not yet in existence; for this hideous statute was to havebirth in this little King's OWN REIGN. However, we know, from thehumanity of his character, that it could never have been suggested byhim. 

NOTES to Chapter XXIII. Death for Trifling Larcenies. 

When Connecticut and New Haven were framing their first codes, larcenyabove the value of twelve pence was a capital crime in England--as it hadbeen since the time of Henry I. --Dr. J. Hammond Trumbull's Blue Laws, True and False, p. 17. 

The curious old book called The English Rogue makes the limit thirteenpence ha'penny: death being the portion of any who steal a thing 'abovethe value of thirteen pence ha'penny. '

NOTES to Chapter XXVII. 

From many descriptions of larceny the law expressly took away the benefitof clergy: to steal a horse, or a HAWK, or woollen cloth from theweaver, was a hanging matter. So it was to kill a deer from the King'sforest, or to export sheep from the kingdom. --Dr. J. Hammond Trumbull'sBlue Laws, True and False, p. 13. 

William Prynne, a learned barrister, was sentenced (long after EdwardVI. 's time) to lose both his ears in the pillory, to degradation from thebar, a fine of 3, 000 pounds, and imprisonment for life. Three yearsafterwards he gave new offence to Laud by publishing a pamphlet againstthe hierarchy. He was again prosecuted, and was sentenced to lose WHATREMAINED OF HIS EARS, to pay a fine of 5, 000 pounds, to be BRANDED ONBOTH HIS CHEEKS with the letters S. L. (for Seditious Libeller), and toremain in prison for life. The severity of this sentence was equalled bythe savage rigour of its execution. --Ibid. P. 12. 

NOTES to Chapter XXXIII. 

Christ's Hospital, or Bluecoat School, 'the noblest institution in theworld. '

The ground on which the Priory of the Grey Friars stood was conferred byHenry VIII. On the Corporation of London (who caused the institutionthere of a home for poor boys and girls). Subsequently, Edward VI. Causedthe old Priory to be properly repaired, and founded within it that nobleestablishment called the Bluecoat School, or Christ's Hospital, for theEDUCATION and maintenance of orphans and the children of indigent persons. . . Edward would not let him (Bishop Ridley) depart till the letter waswritten (to the Lord Mayor), and then charged him to deliver it himself, and signify his special request and commandment that no time might belost in proposing what was convenient, and apprising him of theproceedings. The work was zealously undertaken, Ridley himself engagingin it; and the result was the founding of Christ's Hospital for theeducation of poor children. (The King endowed several other charities atthe same time. ) "Lord God, " said he, "I yield Thee most hearty thanksthat Thou hast given me life thus long to finish this work to the gloryof Thy name!" That innocent and most exemplary life was drawing rapidlyto its close, and in a few days he rendered up his spirit to his Creator, praying God to defend the realm from Papistry. --J. Heneage Jesse'sLondon: its Celebrated Characters and Places. 

In the Great Hall hangs a large picture of King Edward VI. Seated on histhrone, in a scarlet and ermined robe, holding the sceptre in his lefthand, and presenting with the other the Charter to the kneeling LordMayor. By his side stands the Chancellor, holding the seals, and next tohim are other officers of state. Bishop Ridley kneels before him withuplifted hands, as if supplicating a blessing on the event; whilst theAldermen, etc. , with the Lord Mayor, kneel on both sides, occupying themiddle ground of the picture; and lastly, in front, are a double row ofboys on one side and girls on the other, from the master and matron downto the boy and girl who have stepped forward from their respective rows, and kneel with raised hands before the King. --Timbs' Curiosities ofLondon, p. 98. 

Christ's Hospital, by ancient custom, possesses the privilege ofaddressing the Sovereign on the occasion of his or her coming into theCity to partake of the hospitality of the Corporation of London. --Ibid. 

The Dining Hall, with its lobby and organ-gallery, occupies the entirestorey, which is 187 feet long, 51 feet wide, and 47 feet high; it is litby nine large windows, filled with stained glass on the south side; andis, next to Westminster Hall, the noblest room in the metropolis. Herethe boys, now about 800 in number, dine; and here are held the 'Suppingsin Public, ' to which visitors are admitted by tickets issued by theTreasurer and by the Governors of Christ's Hospital. The tables are laidwith cheese in wooden bowls, beer in wooden piggins, poured from leathernjacks, and bread brought in large baskets. The official company enter;the Lord Mayor, or President, takes his seat in a state chair made of oakfrom St. Catherine's Church, by the Tower; a hymn is sung, accompanied bythe organ; a 'Grecian, ' or head boy, reads the prayers from the pulpit, silence being enforced by three drops of a wooden hammer. After prayerthe supper commences, and the visitors walk between the tables. At itsclose the 'trade-boys' take up the baskets, bowls, jacks, piggins, andcandlesticks, and pass in procession, the bowing to the Governors beingcuriously formal. This spectacle was witnessed by Queen Victoria andPrince Albert in 1845. 

Among the more eminent Bluecoat boys are Joshua Barnes, editor ofAnacreon and Euripides; Jeremiah Markland, the eminent critic, particularly in Greek Literature; Camden, the antiquary; BishopStillingfleet; Samuel Richardson, the novelist; Thomas Mitchell, thetranslator of Aristophanes; Thomas Barnes, many years editor of theLondon Times; Coleridge, Charles Lamb, and Leigh Hunt. 

No boy is admitted before he is seven years old, or after he is nine; andno boy can remain in the school after he is fifteen, King's boys and'Grecians' alone excepted. There are about 500 Governors, at the head ofwhom are the Sovereign and the Prince of Wales. The qualification for aGovernor is payment of 500 pounds. --Ibid. 

GENERAL NOTE. 

One hears much about the 'hideous Blue Laws of Connecticut, ' and isaccustomed to shudder piously when they are mentioned. There are peoplein America--and even in England!--who imagine that they were a verymonument of malignity, pitilessness, and inhumanity; whereas in realitythey were about the first SWEEPING DEPARTURE FROM JUDICIAL ATROCITY whichthe 'civilised' world had seen. This humane and kindly Blue Law Code, oftwo hundred and forty years ago, stands all by itself, with ages ofbloody law on the further side of it, and a century and three-quarters ofbloody English law on THIS side of it. 

There has never been a time--under the Blue Laws or any other--when aboveFOURTEEN crimes were punishable by death in Connecticut. But in England, within the memory of men who are still hale in body and mind, TWO HUNDREDAND TWENTY-THREE crimes were punishable by death! {10} These facts areworth knowing--and worth thinking about, too.