CHAPTER XIV
'Le Roi est Mort - Vive le Roi'
-
TOWARD daylight of the same morning, Tom Canty stirred out of a
heavy sleep and opened his eyes in the dark. He lay silent a few
moments, trying to analyze his confused thoughts and impressions,
and get some sort of meaning out of them, then suddenly he burst out
in a rapturous but guarded voice:
'I see it all, I see it all! Now God be thanked, I am, indeed,
awake at last! Come, joy! vanish, sorrow! Ho, Nan! Bet! kick off
your straw and hie ye hither to my side, till I do pour into your
unbelieving ears the wildest madcap dream that ever the spirits of
night did conjure up to astonish 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?... Oh, woe is me, I know thy voice! Speak, thou- who am
I?'
'Thou? In sooth, yesternight wert thou the Prince of Wales, to-day
art thou 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 my
sorrows.'
Tom slept again, and after a time he had this pleasant dream. He
thought it was summer and he was playing, all alone, in the fair
meadow called Goodman's Fields, when a dwarf only a foot high, with
long red whiskers and a humped back, appeared to him suddenly and
said, 'Dig, by that stump.' He did so, and found twelve bright new
pennies- wonderful riches! Yet this was not the best of it; for the
dwarf said:
'I know thee. Thou art a good lad and deserving; thy distresses
shall end, for the day of thy reward is come. Dig here every seventh
day, and thou 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 will think 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, done with fears and frets and savage
usage.'
In his dream he reached his sordid home all out of breath, but
with eyes dancing with grateful enthusiasm; cast four of his pennies
into his mother'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
snapped asunder- he was awake.
He opened his eyes- the richly clad First Lord of the Bedchamber
was kneeling by his couch. The gladness of the lying dream faded away-
the poor boy recognized that he was still a captive and a king. The
room was filled with courtiers clothed in purple mantles- the mourning
color- and with noble servants of the monarch. Tom sat up in bed and
gazed out from the heavy silken curtains upon this fine company.
The weighty business of dressing began, and one courtier after
another knelt and paid his court and offered to the little king his
condolences upon his heavy loss, while the dressing proceeded. In
the beginning, a shirt was taken up by the Chief Equerry in Waiting,
who passed it to the First Lord of the Buckhounds, who passed it to
the Second Gentleman of the Bedchamber, who passed it to the Head
Ranger of Windsor Forest, who passed it to the Third Groom of the
Stole, who passed it to the Chancellor Royal of the Duchy of
Lancaster, who passed it to the Master of the Wardrobe, who passed
it to Norroy King-at-Arms, who passed it to the Constable of the
Tower, who passed it to the Chief Steward of the Household, who passed
it to the Hereditary Grand Diaperer, who passed it to the Lord High
Admiral of England, who passed it to the Archbishop of Canterbury, who
passed it to the First Lord of the Bedchamber, who took what was
left of it and put it on Tom. Poor little wondering chap, it
reminded 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 felt an almost gushing gratefulness when he at last saw his
long silken hose begin the journey down the line and knew that the end
of the matter was drawing near. But he exulted too soon. The First
Lord of the Bedchamber received the hose and was about to encase Tom's
legs in them, when a sudden flush invaded his face and he hurriedly
hustled the things back into the hands of the Archbishop of Canterbury
with an astounded look and a whispered, 'See, my lord!'- pointing to a
something connected with the hose. The Archbishop paled, then flushed,
and passed the hose to the Lord High Admiral, whispering 'See, my
lord!' The Admiral passed the hose to the Hereditary Grand Diaperer,
and had hardly breath enough in his body to ejaculate, 'See, my lord!'
The hose drifted backward along the line, to the Chief Steward of
the Household, the Constable of the Tower, Norroy King-at-Arms, the
Master of the Wardrobe, the Chancellor Royal of the Duchy of
Lancaster, the Third Groom of the Stole, the Head Ranger of Windsor
Forest, the Second Gentleman of the Bedchamber, the First Lord of
the Buckhounds- accompanied always with that amazed and frightened
'See! see!'- till they finally reached the hands of the Chief
Equerry in Waiting, who gazed a moment, with a pallid face, upon
what had caused all this dismay, then hoarsely whispered 'Body of my
life, a tag gone from a truss point!- to the Tower with the Head
Keeper of the King's Hose!'- after which he leaned upon the shoulder
of the First Lord of the Buckhounds to regather his vanished
strength while fresh hose, without any damaged strings to them, were
brought.
But all things must have an end, and so in time Tom Canty was in a
condition to get out of bed. The proper official poured water, the
proper official engineered the washing, the proper official stood by
with a towel, and by and by Tom got safely through the purifying stage
and was ready for the services of the Hairdresser-Royal. When he at
length emerged from his master's hands, he was a gracious figure and
as pretty as a girl, in his mantle and trunks of purple satin, and
purple-plumed cap. He now moved in state toward his breakfast-room,
through the midst of the courtly assemblage; and as he passed, these
fell back, leaving his way free, and dropped upon their knees.
After breakfast he was conducted, with regal ceremony, attended by
his great officers and his guard of fifty Gentlemen Pensioners bearing
gilt battle-axes, to the throne-room, where he proceeded to transact
business of state. His 'uncle' Lord Hertford, took his stand by the
throne, to assist he royal mind with wise counsel.
The body of illustrious men named by the late king as his
executors, appeared, 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. The Archbishop of Canterbury made report of the
decree of the Council of Executors concerning the obsequies of his
late most illustrious majesty, and finished by reading the
signatures of the executors, to wit: the Archbishop of Canterbury; the
Lord Chancellor of England; William Lord St. John; John Lord
Russell; Edward Earl of Hertford; John Viscount Lisle; Cuthbert Bishop
of Durham-
Tom was not listening- an earlier clause of the document was
puzzling him. At this point he turned and whispered to Lord Hertford:
'What day did he say the burial hath been appointed for?'
'The 16th 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
to seeing the forlorn dead of Offal Court hustled out of the way
with a very different sort of expedition. However, the Lord Hertford
set his mind at rest with a word or two.
A secretary of state presented an order of the council
appointing the morrow at eleven for the reception of the foreign
ambassadors, and desired the king's assent.
Tom turned an inquiring look toward Hertford, who whispered:
'Your majesty will signify consent. They come to testify their
royal masters' sense of the heavy calamity which hath visited your
grace and the realm of England.'
Tom did as he was bidden. Another secretary began to read a
preamble concerning the expenses of the late king's household, which
had amounted to L28,000 during the preceding six months- a sum so vast
that it made Tom Canty gasp; he gasped again when the fact appeared
that L20,000 of this money were still owing and unpaid;*(10) and
once more when it appeared that the king's coffers were about empty,
and his twelve hundred servants much embarrassed for lack of the wages
due them. Tom spoke out, with lively apprehension.
'We be going to the dogs, 'tis plain. 'Tis meet and necessary that
we take a smaller house and set the servants at large, sith they be of
no value but to make delay, and trouble one with offices that harass
the spirit and shame the soul, they misbecoming any but a doll, that
hath nor brains nor hands to help itself withal. I remember me of a
small house that standeth over against the fish-market, by
Billingsgate-'
A sharp pressure upon Tom's arm stopped his foolish tongue and
sent a blush to his face; but no countenance there betrayed any sign
that this strange speech had been remarked or given concern.
A secretary made report that forasmuch as the late king had
provided in his will for conferring the ducal degree upon the Earl
of Hertford and raising his brother, Sir Thomas Seymour, to the
peerage, and likewise Hertford's son to an earldom, together similar
aggrandizements to other great servants of the crown, the council
had resolved to hold a sitting on the 16th February for the delivering
and confirming of these honors; and that meantime the late king not
having granted, in writing, estates suitable to the support of these
dignities, the council, knowing his private wishes in that regard, had
thought proper to grant to Seymour '500 pound lands' and to Hertford's
son '800 pound lands, and 300 pound of the next bishop's lands which
should fall vacant,'- his present majesty being willing.*(11)
Tom was about to blurt out something about the propriety of paying
the late king's debts first before squandering all his money; but a
timely touch upon his arm, from the thoughtful Hertford, saved him
this indiscretion; wherefore he gave the royal assent, without
spoken comment, but with much inward discomfort. While he sat
reflecting a moment over the ease with which he was doing strange
and glittering miracles, a happy thought shot into his mind: why not
make his mother Duchess of Offal Court and give her an estate? But a
sorrowful thought swept it instantly away; he was only a king in name,
these grave veterans and great nobles were his masters; to them his
mother was only the creature of a diseased mind; they would simply
listen to his project with unbelieving 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 papers relating to the public business; and at last Tom
sighed pathetically and murmured to himself, 'In what have I offended,
that the good God should take me away from the fields and the free air
and the sunshine, to shut me up here and make me a king and afflict me
so?' Then his poor muddled head nodded awhile, and presently dropped
to his shoulder; and the business of the empire came to a standstill
for want of that august factor, 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
his keepers, Hertford and St. John, with the Lady Elizabeth and the
little Lady Jane Grey; though the spirits of the princesses were
rather subdued by the mighty stroke that had fallen upon the royal
house; and at the end of the visit his 'elder sister'- afterward 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 of about 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 of purple ribbon on his shoulder. He
advanced hesitatingly, with head bowed and bare, and dropped upon
one knee in front of Tom. Tom sat still and contemplated him soberly
for 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
concern in 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 some one whom his keepers ought to
have posted him about. The situation was delicate. What should he do?-
pretend he knew this lad, and then betray, by his every utterance,
that he had never heard 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, now that business urgencies would often call
Hertford and St. John from his side, they being members of the council
of executors; therefore perhaps it would be well to strike out a
plan himself to meet the requirements of such emergencies. Yes, that
would be a wise course- he would practise on this boy, and see what
sort of success he might achieve. So he stroked his brow, perplexedly,
a moment or two, and presently said:
'Now I seem to remember thee somewhat- but my wit is clogged and
dim with suffering-'
'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 one must 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 bring me 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 shall see.) Give thy business speech.'
''Tis matter of small weight, my liege, yet will I touch upon
it, an it please your grace. Two days gone by, when your majesty
faulted thrice in your Greek- in the morning lessons- dost remember
it?'
'Ye-e-s- methinks I do. (It is not much of a lie- an I had meddled
with the 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
doltish work, did promise that he would soundly whip me for it- and-'
'Whip thee!' said Tom, astonished out of his presence of mind.
'Why should he whip thee for faults of mine?'
'Ah, your grace forgetteth again. He always scourgeth me, when
thou dost fail 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 naught that needeth
simplifying. None may 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, for that it is mine office and my
livelihood.'*(12)
Tom stared at the tranquil boy, observing to himself, 'Lo, it is a
wonderful thing- a most strange and curious trade; I marvel they
have not hired a boy to take my combings and my dressings for me-
would heaven they would!- an they will do this thing, I will take my
lashings in mine own person, giving thanks to God 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, and peradventure it may be annulled, as unbefitting the season of
mourning that is come upon us; I know not, and so have made bold to
come hither and remind your grace about your gracious promise to
intercede in my behalf-'
'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 go unscathed- 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 he was 'in the granting mood.'
'Then will I speak it out, for it lieth near my heart. Sith thou
art no more 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 wilt longer vex thyself with dreary studies, but wilt burn thy
books and turn thy mind to things less irksome. Then am I ruined,
and mine orphan sisters 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
royal burst of generosity:
'Discomfort thyself no further, lad. Thine office shall be
permanent in thee and thy line, forever.' Then he struck the boy a
light blow on the shoulder with the flat of his sword, exclaiming,
'Rise, Humphrey Marlow, Hereditary Grand Whipping-Boy to the royal
house of England! Banish sorrow- I will betake me to my books again,
and study so ill that they must in justice treble thy wage, so
mightily shall the business of thine office be augmented.'
The grateful Humphrey responded fervidly:
'Thanks, oh, most noble master, this princely lavishness doth
far surpass my 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 to him. He encouraged Humphrey to talk, and he was nothing
loath. He was delighted to believe that he was helping in Tom's
'cure'; for always, as soon as he had finished calling back to Tom's
diseased mind the various particulars of his experiences and
adventures in the royal schoolroom and elsewhere about the palace,
he noticed that Tom was then able to 'recall' the circumstances
quite clearly. At the end of an hour Tom found himself well
freighted with very valuable information concerning personages and
matters pertaining to the court; so he resolved to draw instruction
from this source daily; and to this end he would give order to admit
Humphrey to the royal closet whenever he might come, provided the
majesty of England was not engaged with other people.
Humphrey had hardly been dismissed when my Lord Hertford arrived
with more trouble for Tom. He said that the lords of the council,
fearing that some overwrought report 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 in public after a day or two-
his wholesome complexion and vigorous step, assisted by a carefully
guarded repose of manner and ease and grace of demeanor, would more
surely quiet the general pulse- in case any evil rumors had gone
about- than any other scheme that could be devised.
Then the earl proceeded, very delicately, to instruct Tom as to
the observances proper to the stately occasion, under the rather
thin disguise of 'reminding' him concerning things already known to
him; but to his vast gratification it turned out that Tom needed
very little help in this line- he had been making use of Humphrey in
that direction, for Humphrey had mentioned that within a few days he
was to begin to dine in public; 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 few tests to it, in an apparently casual way, to find out how far
its amendment had progressed. The results were happy, here and
there, in spots- spots where Humphrey's tracks remained- and, on the
whole, my lord was greatly pleased and encouraged. So encouraged was
he, indeed, that he spoke up and said in a quite hopeful voice:
'Now am I persuaded that if your majesty will but tax your
memory yet a little further, it will resolve the puzzle of the Great
Seal- a loss which was of moment yesterday, although of none to-day,
since its term of service ended with our late lord's life. May it
please your grace to make the trial?'
Tom was at sea- a Great Seal was a something which he was
totally unacquainted with. After a moment's hesitation he looked up
innocently and asked:
'What was it like, my lord?'
The earl started, almost imperceptibly, muttering to himself,
'Alack, his wits 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 of sweeping the unlucky Seal out of Tom's thoughts- a
purpose which easily succeeded.
CHAPTER_XV
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
splendors of the scene delighted his eye and fired his imagination
at first, but the audience was long and dreary, and so were most of
the addresses- wherefore, what began as a pleasure, grew into
weariness and homesickness by and by. Tom said the words which
Hertford put into his mouth from time to time, and tried hard to
acquit himself satisfactorily, but he was too new to such things,
and too ill at ease to accomplish more than a tolerable success. He
looked sufficiently like a king, but he was ill able to feel like one.
He was cordially glad when the ceremony was ended.
The larger part of his day was 'wasted'- as he termed it, in his
own mind- in labors pertaining to his royal office. Even the two hours
devoted to certain princely pastimes and recreations were rather a
burden to him than otherwise, they were so fettered by restrictions
and ceremonious observances. However, he had a private hour with his
whipping-boy which he counted clear gain, since he got both
entertainment and needful information out of it.
The third day of Tom Canty's kingship came and went much as the
others had done, but there was a lifting of his cloud in one way- he
felt less uncomfortable than at first; he was getting a little used to
his circumstances and surroundings; his chains still galled, but not
all the time; he found that the presence and homage of the great
afflicted and embarrassed him less and less sharply with every hour
that drifted over his head.
But for one single dread, he could have seen the fourth day
approach without serious distress- the dining in public; it was to
begin that day. There were greater matters in the program- for on that
day he would have to preside at a council which would take his views
and commands concerning the policy to be pursued toward various
foreign nations scattered far and near over the great globe; on that
day, too, Hertford would be formally chosen to the grand office of
Lord Protector; other things of note were appointed for that fourth
day also, but to Tom they were all insignificant compared with the
ordeal of dining all by himself with a multitude of curious eyes
fastened upon him and a multitude of mouths 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 poor Tom low-spirited and absent-minded, and this mood
continued; he could not shake it off. The ordinary duties of the
morning dragged upon his hands, and wearied him. Once more he felt the
sense of captivity heavy upon him.
Late in the forenoon he was in a large audience chamber,
conversing with the Earl of Hertford and duly awaiting the striking of
the hour appointed for a visit of ceremony from a considerable
number of great officials and courtiers.
After a little while Tom, who had wandered to a window and
become interested in the life and movement of the great highway beyond
the palace gates- and not idly interested, but longing with all his
heart to take part in person in its stir and freedom- saw the van of a
hooting and shouting mob of disorderly men, women, and children of the
lowest and poorest degree approaching from up the road.
'I would I knew what 'tis about!' he exclaimed, with all a boy's
curiosity in such happenings.
'Thou art the king!' solemnly responded the earl, with a
reverence. 'Have I your grace's leave to act?'
'Oh, blithely, yes! Oh, gladly, yes!' exclaimed Tom, excitedly,
adding to himself with a lively sense of satisfaction, 'In truth,
being a king is not all dreariness- it hath its compensations and
conveniences.'
The earl called a page, and sent him to the captain of the guard
with the order:
'Let the mob be halted, and inquiry made concerning, the
occasion of its movement. By the king's command!'
A few seconds later a long rank of the royal guards, cased in
flashing steel, filed out at the gates and formed across the highway
in front of the multitude. A messenger returned, to report that the
crowd were following a man, a woman, and a young girl to execution for
crimes committed against the peace and dignity of the realm.
Death- and a violent death- for these poor unfortunates! The
thought wrung Tom's heartstrings. The spirit of compassion took
control of him, to the exclusion of all other considerations; he never
thought of the offended laws, or of the grief or loss which these
three criminals had inflicted upon their victims, he could think of
nothing but the scaffold and the grisly fate hanging over the heads of
the condemned. His concern made him even forget, for the moment,
that he was but the false shadow of a king, not the substance; and
before he knew it he had blurted out the command:
'Bring them here!'
Then he blushed scarlet, and a sort of apology sprung to his lips;
but observing that his order had wrought no sort of surprise in the
earl or the waiting page, he suppressed the words he was about to
utter. The page, in the most matter-of-course way, made a profound
obeisance and retired backward out of the room to deliver the command.
Tom experienced a glow of pride and a renewed sense of the
compensating advantages of the kingly office. He said to himself,
'Truly it is like what I used to feel when I read the old priest's
tales, and did imagine mine own self a prince, giving law and
command to all, saying, " Do this, do that," while none durst offer
let or hindrance to my will.'
Now the doors swung open; one high-sounding title after another
was announced, the personages owning them followed, and the place
was quickly half filled with noble folk and finery. But Tom was hardly
conscious of the presence of these people, so wrought up was he and so
intensely absorbed in that other and more interesting matter. He
seated himself, absently, in his chair of state, and turned his eyes
upon the door with manifestations of impatient expectancy; seeing
which, the company forbore to trouble him, and fell to chatting a
mixture of public business and court gossip one with another.
In a little while the measured tread of military men was heard
approaching, and the culprits entered the presence in charge of an
under-sheriff and escorted by a detail of the king's guard. The
civil officer knelt before Tom, then stood aside; the three doomed
persons knelt also, and remained so; the guard took position behind
Tom's chair. Tom scanned the prisoners curiously. Something about
the dress or appearance of the man had stirred a vague memory in
him. 'Methinks I have 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 quickly dropped his face again, not being able to
endure the awful port of sovereignty; but the one full glimpse of
the face, which Tom got, was sufficient. He said to himself: 'Now is
the matter clear; this is the stranger 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 he hath been doing baser ones
and got himself in this sad case... I have not forgot the day, neither
the hour; by reason that an hour after, upon the stroke of eleven, I
did get a hiding by the hand of Gammer Canty which was of so goodly
and admired severity that all that went before or followed after it
were but fondlings and caresses by comparison.'
Tom now ordered that the woman and the girl be removed from the
presence for a little time; then addressed himself to the
under-sheriff, saying:
'Good sir, what is this man's offense?'
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
daring rescuer 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 a brave heart- na- na, I mean he hath the look of it!'
The prisoner clasped his hands together with sudden energy, and
wrung them despairingly, at the same time appealing imploringly to the
'king' in broken and terrified phrases:
'Oh, my lord the king, an thou canst pity the lost, have pity upon
me! I am innocent- neither hath that wherewith I am charged been
more than but lamely proved- yet I speak not of that; the judgment
is gone forth against me and may not suffer alteration; yet in mine
extremity I beg a boon, for my doom is more than I can bear. A
grace, a grace, my lord the king! in thy royal compassion grant my
prayer- give commandment that I be hanged!'
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?'
'Oh, good my liege, not so! It is ordered that I be boiled alive!'
The hideous surprise of these words almost made Tom spring from
his chair. As soon as he could recover his wits he cried out:
'Have thy wish, poor soul! an thou had poisoned a hundred men thou
shouldst not suffer so miserable a death.'
The prisoner bowed his face to the ground and burst into
passionate expressions of gratitude- ending with:
'If ever thou shouldst know misfortune- which God forbid!- may thy
goodness 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's
ferocious doom?'
'It is the law, your grace- for poisoners. In Germany coiners be
boiled to death in oil- not cast in of a sudden, but by a rope let
down into the oil by degrees, and slowly; first the feet, then the
legs, then-'
'Oh, prithee, no more, my lord, I cannot bear it!' cried Tom,
covering his eyes with his hands to shut out the picture. 'I beseech
your good lordship that order be taken to change this law- oh, let
no more poor creatures be visited with its tortures.'
The earl's face showed profound ratification, for he was a man
of merciful and generous impulses- a thing not very common with his
class in that fierce age.
He said:
'These your grace's noble words have sealed its doom. History will
remember it to the honor of your royal house.'
The under-sheriff was about to remove his prisoner; Tom gave him a
sign to wait; then he said:
'Good sir, I would look into this matter further. The man has said
his deed was but lamely proved. Tell me what thou knowest.'
'If the king's grace please, it did appear upon the trial, that
this man entered into a house in the hamlet of Islington where one lay
sick- three witnesses say it was at ten of the clock in the morning
and two say it was some minutes later- the sick man being alone at the
time, and sleeping- and presently the man came forth again, and went
his way. The sick man died within the hour, being torn with spasm
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
such symptoms but by poison.'
Weighty evidence, this- in that simple age. Tom recognized its
formidable nature, and said:
'The doctor knoweth his trade- belike they were right. The
matter hath an ill look for this poor man.'
'Yet was not this all, your majesty; there is more and worse. Many
testified that a witch, since gone from the village, none know
whither, did foretell, and speak it privately in their ears, that
the sick man would die by poison- and more, that a stranger would give
it- a stranger with brown hair and clothed in a worn and common
garb; and surely this prisoner doth answer woundily to the bill.
Please, your majesty, to give the circumstance that solemn weight
which is its due, seeing it was foretold.'
This was an argument of tremendous force, in that superstitious
day. Tom felt that the thing was settled; if evidence was worth
anything, this poor fellow's guilt was proved. Still he offered the
prisoner a chance, saying:
'If thou canst say aught in thy behalf, speak.'
'Naught that will avail, my king. I am innocent, yet cannot I make
it appear. I have no friends, else might I show that I was not in
Islington that day; so also might I show that at that hour they name I
was above a league away, seeing I was at Wapping Old Stairs; yea more,
my king, for I could show, that while they say I was taking life, I
was saving it. A drowning boy-'
'Peace! Sheriff, name the day the deed was done!'
'At ten in the morning, or some minutes later, the first day of
the new year, most illustrious-'
'Let the prisoner go free- it is the king's will!'
Another blush followed this unregal outburst, and he covered his
indecorum as well as he could by adding:
'It enrageth me that a man should be hanged upon such idle,
hare-brained evidence!'
A low buzz of admiration swept through the assemblage. It was
not admiration of the decree that had been delivered by Tom, for the
propriety or expediency of pardoning a convicted poisoner was a
thing which few there would have felt justified in either admitting or
admiring- no, the admiration was for the intelligence and spirit which
Tom 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
was this abrupt, imperious disposal of the matter!'
'God be thanked his infirmity is spent! This is no weakling, but a
king. He hath borne himself like to his own father.'
The air being filled with applause, Tom's ear necessarily caught a
little of it. The effect which this had upon him was to put him
greatly at his ease, and also to charge his system with very
gratifying sensations.
However, his juvenile curiosity soon rose superior to these
pleasant thoughts and feelings; he was eager to know what sort of
deadly mischief the 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
clearly proven; wherefore the judges have decreed, according to the
law, that they be hanged. They sold themselves to the devil- such is
their crime.'
Tom shuddered. He had been taught to abhor people who did this
wicked thing. Still, he was not going to deny himself the pleasure
of feeding his 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 witnesses did see them wending thither, good your
majesty; this bred the suspicion, and dire effects have since
confirmed and justified it. In particular, it is in evidence that
through the wicked power so obtained, they did invoke and bring
about a storm that wasted all the region round about. Above forty
witnesses have proved the storm; and sooth 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 of
scoundrelism over in his mind awhile, then asked:
'Suffered the woman, also, by the storm?'
Several old heads among the assemblage nodded their recognition of
the wisdom of this question. The sheriff, however, saw nothing
consequential in the inquiry; he answered, with simple directness.
'Indeed, she did, your majesty, and most righteously, as all aver.
Her habitation was swept away, and herself and child left
shelterless.'
'Methinks the power to do herself so ill a turn was dearly bought.
She had been cheated, had she paid but a farthing for it; that she
paid her soul, and her child's, argueth that she is mad; if she is mad
she knoweth not what she doth, therefore sinneth not.'
The elderly heads nodded recognition of Tom's wisdom once more,
and one individual murmured, 'An the king be mad himself, according to
report, then it is a madness of a sort that would improve the sanity
of some I wot 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 the riper wit and evil schemings of them that are
its elders. The devil may buy a child, if he so choose, and the
child agree thereto, but not an Englishman- in this latter case the
contract would be null and void.'
'It seemeth a rude unchristian thing, and ill contrived, that
English law denieth 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 in many heads to be repeated about the court as evidence
of Tom's originality as well as progress toward mental health.
The elder culprit had ceased from sobbing, and was hanging upon
Tom's words with an excited interest and a growing hope. Tom noticed
this, and it strongly inclined his sympathies toward her in her
perilous and unfriended 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 needful words, 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, and a general, though unexpressed, desire to get out of
the place- all of which was lost upon Tom, who was dead to
everything but the proposed cataclysm. Seeing a puzzled and astonished
look in the woman's face, he added, excitedly:
'Never fear- thou shalt be blameless. More- thou shalt go free-
none shall touch thee. Exert thy power.'
'O, 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.
Make a storm- it mattereth not how small a one- I require naught great
or harmful, 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, and safe from hurt or malice from any in the realm.'
The woman prostrated herself, and protested, with tears, that
she had no power to do the miracle, else she would gladly win her
child's life alone, and be content to lose her own, if by obedience to
the king's command 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 and gifted with the devil's functions, she had not stayed a
moment to call her storms and lay the whole land in ruins, if the
saving of my forfeit life were the price she got! It is argument
that other mothers are made in like mold. Thou art free, good wife-
thou and thy child- for I do think thee innocent. Now thou'st naught
to fear, being pardoned- pull off 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, while Tom looked on with eager expectancy, a little marred by
apprehension; the courtiers at the same time manifesting decided
discomfort and uneasiness. The woman stripped her own feet and her
little girl's also, and plainly did her best to reward the king's
generosity with an earthquake, but it was all a failure and a
disappointment. Tom sighed and said:
'There, good soul, trouble thyself no further, thy power is
departed out of 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
CHAPTER XVI
The State Dinner
-
THE dinner-hour drew near- yet, strangely enough, the thought
brought but slight discomfort to Tom, and hardly any terror. The
morning's experiences had wonderfully built up his confidence; the
poor little ash-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's facility in accommodating itself to
circumstances was never more strikingly illustrated.
Let us privileged ones hurry to the great banqueting-room and have
a glance at matters there while Tom is being made ready for the
imposing occasion. It is a spacious apartment, with gilded pillars and
pilasters, and pictured walls and ceilings. At the door stand tall
guards, as rigid as statues, dressed in rich and picturesque costumes,
and bearing halberds. In a high gallery which runs all around the
place is a band of musicians and a packed company of citizens of
both sexes, in brilliant attire. In the center of the room, upon a
raised platform, is Tom's table. Now let the ancient chronicler speak:
'A gentleman enters the room bearing a rod, and along with him
another bearing a table-cloth, which, after they have both kneeled
three times with the utmost veneration, he spreads upon the table, and
after kneeling again they both retire; then come two others, one
with the rod again, the other with a salt-cellar, a plate, and
bread; when they have kneeled as the others had done, and placed
what was brought upon the table, they too retire with the same
ceremonies performed by the first; at last come two nobles richly
clothed, one bearing a tasting-knife, who, after prostrating
themselves in the most graceful manner, approach and rub the table
with bread and salt, with as much awe as if the king had been
present.'*(14)
So end the solemn preliminaries. Now, far down the echoing
corridors we hear a bugle-blast, and the indistinct cry, 'Place for
the king! way for the king's most excellent majesty!' These sounds are
momently repeated- they grow nearer and nearer- and presently,
almost in our faces, the martial note peals and the cry rings out,
'Way for the king!' At this instant the shining pageant appears, and
files in at the door, with a measured march. Let the chronicler
speak again:
'First come Gentlemen, Barons, Earls, Knights of the Garter, all
richly dressed and bareheaded; next comes the Chancellor, between two,
one of which carries the royal scepter, the other the Sword of State
in a red scabbard, studded with golden fleurs-de-lis, the point
upwards; next comes the King himself- whom, upon his appearing, twelve
trumpets and many drums salute with a great burst of welcome, whilst
all in the galleries rise in their places, crying "God save the King!"
After him come nobles attached to his person, and on his right and
left march his guard of honor, his fifty Gentlemen Pensioners, with
gilt battle-axes.'
This was all fine and pleasant. Tom's pulse beat high and a glad
light was in his eye. He bore himself right gracefully, and all the
more so because he was not thinking of how he was doing it, his mind
being charmed and occupied with the blithe sights and sounds about
him- and besides, nobody can be very ungraceful in nicely fitting
beautiful clothes after he has grown a little used to them- especially
if he is for the moment unconscious of them. Tom remembered his
instructions, and acknowledged 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
without the least embarrassment; for to eat with one's cap on was
the one solitary royal custom upon which the kings and the Cantys
met upon common ground, neither party having any advantage over the
other in the matter of old familiarity with it. The pageant broke up
and grouped itself picturesquely, and remained bareheaded.
Now, to the sound of gay music, the Yeomen of the Guard entered-
'the tallest and mightiest men in England, they being selected in this
regard'- but we will let the chronicler tell about it:
'The Yeomen of the Guard entered bareheaded, clothed in scarlet,
with golden roses upon their backs; and these went and came,
bringing in each turn a course of dishes, served in plate. These
dishes were received by a gentleman in the same order they were
brought, and placed upon the table, while the taster gave to each
guard a mouthful to eat of the particular dish he had brought, for
fear of any poison.'
Tom made a good dinner, notwithstanding he was conscious that
hundreds of eyes followed each morsel to his mouth and watched him eat
it with an interest which could not have been more intense if it had
been a deadly explosive and was expected to blow him up and scatter
him all over the place. He was careful not to hurry, and equally
careful not to do anything whatever for himself, but wait till the
proper official knelt down and did it for him. He got through
without a mistake- flawless and precious triumph.
When the meal was over at last and he marched away in the midst of
his bright pageant, with the happy noises in his ears of blaring
bugles, rolling drums, and thundering acclamations, he felt that if he
had seen the worst of dining in public, it was an ordeal which he
would be glad to endure several times a day if by that means he
could but buy himself free from some of the more formidable
requirements of his royal office.
CHAPTER_XVII
CHAPTER XVII
Foo-foo the First
-
MILES Hendon hurried along toward the Southwark end of the bridge,
keeping a sharp lookout for the persons he sought, and hoping and
expecting to overtake them presently. He was disappointed in this,
however. By asking questions, he was enabled to track them part of the
way through Southwark; then all traces ceased, and he was perplexed as
to how to proceed. Still, he continued his efforts as best he could
during the rest of the day. Nightfall found him leg-weary, half
famished, and his desire as far from accomplishment as ever; so he
supped at the Tabard inn and went to bed, resolved to make an early
start in the morning, and give the town an exhaustive search. As he
lay thinking and planning, he presently began to reason thus: The
boy would escape from the ruffian, his reputed father, if possible;
would he go back to London and seek his former 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 a protector, until he met
Miles Hendon, he would naturally try to find that friend again,
provided the effort did not require him to go toward London and
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 find
him. Yes, the case was plain to Hendon- he must lose no more time in
Southwark, but move at once through Kent, toward Monk's Holm,
searching the wood and inquiring as he went. Let us return to the
vanished little king 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 close behind them and followed their steps. He said nothing. His
left arm was in a sling, and he wore a large green patch over his left
eye; he limped slightly, and used an oaken staff as a support. The
youth led the king a crooked course through Southwark, and by and by
struck into the highroad beyond. The king was irritated now, and
said he would stop here- it was Hendon's place to come to him, not his
to go to Hendon. He would not endure such insolence; he would stop
where he was. The youth said:
'Thou'lt tarry here, and thy friend lying wounded in the wood
yonder? So be 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,
lead on! Faster, sirrah! art shod with lead? Wounded, is he? Now
though the 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 were evidently guides to the point he was aiming at.
By and by an open place was reached, where were the charred remains of
a farmhouse, and near them a barn which was falling to ruin and decay.
There was no sign of life anywhere, and utter silence prevailed. The
youth entered the barn, the king following eagerly upon his heels.
No one there! The king shot a surprised 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; he seized a billet of wood and was in the act of charging upon
the youth when another mocking laugh fell upon his ear. It was from
the lame ruffian, who had been following at a distance. The king
turned and said angrily:
'Who art thou? What is thy business here?'
'Leave thy foolery,' said the man, 'and quiet thyself. My disguise
is none so good that thou canst pretend thou knowest not thy father
through it.'
'Thou art not my father. I know thee not. I am the king. If thou
hast hid my servant, find him for me, or thou shalt sup sorrow for
what thou hast 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
thou provoke me, I must. Thy prating doth no harm here, where there
are no ears that need to mind thy follies, yet is it well to
practise thy tongue to wary speech, that it may do no hurt when our
quarters change. I have done a murder, and may not tarry at home-
neither shalt thou, seeing I need 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 to the place appointed- knowest thou
whither they went?'
The king answered, sullenly:
'Trouble me not with these riddles. My mother is dead; my
sisters are in the palace.'
The youth near by burst into a derisive laugh, and the king
would have assaulted him, but Canty- or Hobbs, as he now called
himself- prevented him, 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
king removed himself as far as he could from their disagreeable
company. He withdrew into the twilight of the farther end of the barn,
where he found the earthen floor bedded a foot deep with straw. He lay
down here, drew straw over himself in lieu of blankets, and was soon
absorbed in thinking. He had many griefs, but the minor ones were
swept almost into forgetfulness by the supreme one, the loss of his
father. To the rest of the world the name of Henry VIII brought a
shiver, and suggested an ogre whose nostrils breathed destruction
and whose hand dealt scourgings and death; but to this boy the name
brought only sensations of pleasure, the figure it invoked wore a
countenance that was all gentleness and affection. He called to mind a
long succession of loving passages between his father and himself, and
dwelt fondly upon them, his unstinted tears attesting how deep and
real was the grief that possessed his heart. As the afternoon wasted
away, the lad, wearied with his troubles, sunk gradually into a
tranquil and healing slumber.
After a considerable time- he could not tell how long- his
senses struggled to a half-consciousness, and as he lay with closed
eyes vaguely wondering where he was and what had been happening, he
noted a murmurous sound, the sullen beating of rain upon the roof. A
snug sense of comfort stole over him, which was rudely broken, the
next moment, by a chorus of piping cackles and coarse laughter. It
startled him disagreeably, and he unmuffled his head to see whence
this interruption proceeded. A grim and unsightly picture met his eye.
A bright fire was burning in the middle of the floor, at the other end
of the barn; and around it, and lit weirdly up by the red glare,
lolled and sprawled the motliest company of tattered gutter-scum and
ruffians, of both sexes, he had ever read or dreamed of. There were
huge, stalwart men, brown with exposure, long-haired, and clothed in
fantastic rags; there were middle-sized youths, of truculent
countenance, and similarly clad; there were blind medicants, with
patched or bandaged eyes; crippled ones, with wooden legs and
crutches; there was a villain-looking peddler with his pack; a
knife-grinder, a tinker, and a barber-surgeon, with the implements
of their trades; some of the females were hardly grown girls, some
were at prime, some were old and wrinkled hags, and all were loud,
brazen, foul-mouthed; and all soiled and slatternly; there were
three sore-faced babies; there were a couple of starveling curs,
with strings around their necks, whose office was to lead the blind.
The night was come, the gang had just finished feasting, an orgy
was beginning, the can of liquor was passing from mouth to mouth. A
general cry broke forth:
'A song! a song from the Bat and Dick Dot-and-go-One!'
One of the blind men got up, and made ready by casting aside the
patches that sheltered his excellent eyes, and the pathetic placard
which recited the cause of his calamity. Dot-and-go-One
disencumbered himself of his timber leg and took his place, upon sound
and healthy limbs, beside his fellow-rascal; then they roared out a
rollicking ditty, and were reinforced by the whole crew, at the end of
each stanza, in a rousing chorus. By the time the last stanza was
reached, the half-drunken enthusiasm had risen to such a pitch that
everybody joined in and sang it clear through from the beginning,
producing a volume of villainous sound that made the rafters quake.
These were the inspiring words:
-
'Bien Darkmans then, Bouse Mort and Ken,
The bien Coves bings awast,
On Chates to trine by Rome Coves dine
For his long lib at last.
Bing'd out bien Morts and toure, and toure,
Bing out of the Rome vile bine,
And toure the Cove that cloy'd your duds,
Upon upon the Chates to trine.'*(15)
-
Conversation followed; not in the thieves' dialect of the song,
for that was only used in talk when unfriendly ears might be
listening. In the course of it it appeared that 'John Hobbs' was not
altogether a new recruit, but had trained in the gang at some former
time. His later history was called for, and when he said he had
'accidentally' killed a man, considerable satisfaction was
expressed; when he added that the man was a priest, he was roundly
applauded, and had to take a drink with everybody. Old acquaintances
welcomed him joyously, and new ones were proud to shake him by the
hand. He was asked why he had 'tarried away so many months.' He
answered:
'London is better than the country, and safer these late years,
the laws be so bitter and so diligently enforced. An I had not had
that accident, I had stayed there. I had resolved to stay, and
nevermore venture countrywards- but the accident had ended that.'
He inquired how many persons the gang numbered now. The 'Ruffler,'
or chief, answered:
'Five and twenty sturdy budges, bulks, files, clapperdogeons and
maunders, counting the dells and doxies and other morts.*(16) Most are
here, the rest are wandering eastward, along the winter lay. We follow
at dawn.'
'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 on the eastward tramp; a fine lass, of nice ways and orderly
conduct, none ever seeing her drunk above four days in the seven.'
'She was ever strict- I remember it well- a goodly wench and
worthy all commendation. Her mother was more free and less particular;
a troublesome and ugly-tempered beldame, but furnished with a wit
above the common.'
'We lost her through it. Her gift of palmistry and other sorts
of fortune-telling begot for her at last a witch's name and fame.
The law roasted her to death at a slow fire. It did touch me to a sort
of tenderness to see the gallant way she met her lot- cursing and
reviling all the crowd that gaped and gazed around her, whilst the
flames licked upward toward her face and catched her thin locks and
crackled about her old gray head- cursing them, said I?- cursing them!
why an thou shouldst live a thousand years thou'dst never hear so
masterful a cursing. Alack, her art died with her. There be base and
weakling imitations left, but no true blasphemy.'
The Ruffler sighed; the listeners sighed in sympathy; a general
depression fell upon the company for a moment, for even hardened
outcasts like these are not wholly dead to sentiment, but are able
to feel a fleeting sense of loss and affliction at wide intervals
and under peculiarly favoring circumstances- as in cases like to this,
for instance, when genius and culture depart and leave no heir.
However, a deep drink all round soon restored the spirits of the
mourners.
'Have any other of our friends fared hardly?' asked Hobbs.
'Some- yes. Particularly new-comers- such as small husbandmen
turned shiftless and hungry upon the world because their farms were
taken from them to be changed to sheep-ranges. They begged, and were
whipped at the cart's tail, naked from the girdle up, till the blood
ran; then set in the stocks to be pelted; they begged again, were
whipped again, and deprived of an ear; they begged a third time-
poor devils, what else could they do?- and were branded on the cheek
with a red-hot iron, then sold for slaves; they ran away, were
hunted down, and hanged. 'Tis a brief tale, and quickly told. Others
of us have fared less hardly. Stand forth, Yokel, Burns, and Hodge-
show your adornments!'
These stood up and stripped away some of their rags, exposing
their backs, crisscrossed with ropy old welts left by the lash; one
turned up his hair and showed the place where a left ear had once
been; another showed a brand upon his shoulder- the letter V and a
mutilated ear; the third said:
'I am Yokel, once a farmer and prosperous, with loving wife and
kids- now am I somewhat different in estate and calling; and the
wife and kids are gone; mayhap they are in heaven, mayhap in- in the
other place- but the kindly God be thanked, they bide no more in
England! My good old blameless mother strove to earn bread by
nursing the sick; one of these died, the doctors knew not how, so my
mother was burned for a witch, whilst my babes looked on and wailed.
English law!- up, all with your cups!- now all together and with a
cheer!- drink to the merciful English law that delivered her from
the English hell! Thank you, mates, one and all. I begged, from
house to house- I and the wife- bearing with us the hungry kids- but
it was a crime to be hungry in England- so they stripped us and lashed
us through three towns. Drink ye all again to the merciful English
law!- for its lash drank deep of my Mary's blood and its blessed
deliverance came quick. She lies there, in the potter's field, safe
from all harms. And the kids- well, whilst the law lashed me from town
to town, 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 begged again, and here is the stump of the other to keep me
minded of it. And still I begged again, and was sold for a slave- here
on my cheek under this stain, if I washed it off, ye might see the red
S the branding iron left there! A SLAVE! Do ye understand that word!
An English SLAVE!- that is he that stands before ye. I have run from
my master, and when I am found- the heavy curse of heaven fall on
the law of the land that hath commanded it!- I shall hang!'*(17)
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
approaching hurriedly; as it emerged into the light and was clearly
revealed, a general 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 and
questioning eyes, and answered with princely dignity:
'I am Edward, king of England.'
A wild burst of laughter followed, partly of derision and partly
of delight in the excellence of the joke. The king was stung. He
said sharply:
'Ye mannerless vagrants, is this your recognition of the royal
boon I have promised?'
He said more, with angry voice and excited gesture, but it was
lost in a whirlwind of laughter and mocking exclamations. 'John Hobbs'
made several attempts to make himself heard above the din, and at last
succeeded- saying:
'Mates, he is my son, a dreamer, a fool, and stark mad- mind him
not- he thinketh he is the king.'
'I am the king,' said Edward, turning toward him, 'as thou shalt
know to thy cost, in good time. Thou hast confessed a murder- thou
shalt swing for it.'
'Thou'lt betray me!- thou? An I get my hands upon thee-'
'Tut-tut!' said the burly Ruffler, interposing in time to save the
king, and emphasizing this service by knocking Hobbs down with his
fist, 'hast respect for neither kings nor Rufflers? An thou insult
my presence so again, I'll hang thee up myself.' Then he said to his
majesty, 'Thou must make no threats against thy mates, lad; and thou
must guard thy tongue from saying evil of them elsewhere. Be king,
if it please thy mad humor, but be not harmful in it. Sink the title
thou hast uttered- 'tis treason; we be bad men, in some few trifling
ways, but none among us is so base as to be traitor to his king; we be
loving and loyal hearts, in that regard. 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 thunder-gust from the motley crew
that the crazy building vibrated to the sound. The little king's
face lighted with pleasure for an instant, and he slightly inclined
his head and said with 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. Humor 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
shout sent up, of:
'Long live Foo-foo the First, king of the Mooncalves!' followed by
hootings, cat-calls, and peals of laughter.
'Hale him forth, and crown him!'
'Robe him!'
'Scepter him!'
'Throne him!'
These and twenty other cries broke out at once; and almost
before the poor little victim could draw a breath he was crowned
with a tin basin, robed in a tattered blanket, throned upon a
barrel, and sceptered with tinker's soldering-iron. Then all flung
themselves upon their knees about him and sent up a chorus of ironical
wailings, and mocking supplications, while they swabbed their eyes
with their soiled and ragged 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 of
sovereignty!'
'Sanctify the ground with the touch of thy foot, that we may eat
the dirt and be ennobled!'
'Deign to spit upon us, O sire, that our children's children may
tell of thy princely condescension, and be proud and happy forever!'
But the humorous tinker made the 'hit' of the evening and
carried off the honors. Kneeling, he pretended to kiss the king's
foot, and was indignantly spurned; whereupon he went about begging for
a rag to paste over the place upon his face which had been touched
by the foot, saying it must be preserved from contact with the
vulgar air, and that he should make his fortune by going on the
highway and exposing it to view at the rate of a hundred shillings a
sight. He made himself so killingly funny that he was the envy and
admiration of the whole mangy rabble.
Tears of shame and indignation stood in the little monarch's eyes;
and the thought in his heart was, 'Had I offered them a deep wrong
they could not be more cruel- yet have I proffered naught but to do
them a kindness- and it is thus they use me for it!'
CHAPTER_XVIII
CHAPTER XVIII
The Prince with the Tramps
-
THE troop of vagabonds turned out at early dawn, and set forward
on their march. There was a lowering sky overhead, sloppy ground under
foot, and a winter chill in the air. All gaiety was gone from the
company; some were sullen and silent, some were irritable and
petulant, none were gentle-humored, 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 also warned 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. They grew more and more cheerful, and finally began to
chaff each other and insult passengers along the highway. This
showed that they were awaking to an appreciation of life and its
joys once more. The dread in which their sort was held was apparent in
the fact that everybody gave them the road, and took their ribald
insolences meekly, without venturing to talk back. They snatched linen
from the hedges, occasionally, in full view of the owners, who made no
protest, but only seemed grateful that they did not take the hedges,
too.
By and by they invaded a small farmhouse and made themselves at
home while the trembling farmer and his people swept the larder
clean to furnish a breakfast for them. They chucked the housewife
and her daughters under the chin while receiving the food from their
hands, and made coarse jests about them, accompanied with insulting
epithets and bursts of horse-laughter. They threw bones and vegetables
at the farmer and his sons, kept them dodging all the time, and
applauded uproariously when a good hit was made. They ended by
buttering the head of one of the daughters who resented some of
their familiarities. When they took their leave they threatened to
come back and burn the house over the heads of the family if any
report of their doings got to the ears of the authorities.
About noon, after a long and weary tramp, the gang came to a
halt behind a hedge on the outskirts of a considerable village. An
hour was allowed for rest, then the crew scattered themselves abroad
to enter the village at different points to ply their various
trades. 'Jack' was sent with Hugo. They wandered hither and thither
for some time, Hugo watching for opportunities to do a stroke of
business but finding none- so he finally said:
'I see naught 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, eying 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 longer. Thy father
says thou hast begged all thy days. Mayhap he lied. Peradventure you
will even 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 thy amusement, not thy hurt. An I tell him this, he will scorch
thee finely for 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 out of one's way to invite them. But a truce to these
matters; I believe your father. I doubt not he can lie; I doubt not he
doth lie, upon occasion, for the best of us do that; but there is no
occasion here. A wise man does not waste so good a commodity as
lying for naught. But come; sith it is thy humor to give over begging,
wherewithal shall we busy 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 I will 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
a fit. When the stranger runs to me, set you up a wail, and fall
upon your knees, seeming to weep; then cry out as if all the devils of
misery were in your belly, and say, "Oh, sir, it is my poor
afflicted brother, and we be friendless; o' God's name cast through
your merciful eyes one pitiful look upon a sick, forsaken, and most
miserable wretch; bestow one little penny 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 his penny, else shall you
rue it.'
Then immediately Hugo began to moan, and groan, and roll his eyes,
and reel and totter about; and when the stranger was close at hand,
down he sprawled before him, with a shriek, and began to writhe and
wallow in the dirt, in seeming agony.
'O dear, O dear!' cried the benevolent stranger. 'Oh, poor soul,
poor soul, how he doth suffer! There- let me help thee up.'
'O, noble sir, forbear, and God love you for a princely gentleman-
but it giveth me cruel pain to touch me when I am taken so. My brother
there will tell your worship how I am racked with anguish when these
fits be upon me. A penny, dear sir, a penny, to buy a little food;
then leave me to my sorrows.'
'A penny! thou shalt have three, thou hapless creature'- and he
fumbled in his pocket with nervous haste and got them out. 'There,
poor lad, take them, and most welcome. Now come hither, my boy, and
help me carry thy stricken 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
denies his 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, who is he, then?'
'A beggar and a thief! He has got your money and has picked your
pocket likewise. An thou wouldst do a healing miracle, lay thy staff
over his shoulders and trust Providence for the rest.'
But Hugo did not tarry for the miracle. In a moment he was up
and off like the wind, the gentleman following after and raising the
hue and cry lustily as he went. The king, breathing deep gratitude
to Heaven for his own release, fled in the opposite direction and
did not slacken his pace until 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 he could, during several hours, keeping a
nervous watch over his shoulder for pursuit; but his fears left him at
last, and a grateful sense of security took their place. He recognized
now that he was hungry; and also very tired. So he halted at a
farmhouse; but when he was about to speak, he was cut short and driven
rudely away. His clothes were against him.
He wandered on, wounded and indignant, and was resolved to put
himself in the way of light treatment no more. But hunger is pride's
master; so as the evening drew near, he made an attempt at another
farmhouse; but here he fared worse than before; for he was called hard
names and was promised arrest as a vagrant except he moved on
promptly.
The night came on, chilly and overcast; and still the footsore
monarch labored slowly on. He was obliged to keep moving, for every
time he sat down to rest he was soon penetrated to the bone with the
cold. All his sensations and experiences, as he moved through the
solemn gloom and the empty vastness of the night, were new and strange
to him. At intervals he heard voices approach, pass by, and fade
into silence; and as he saw nothing more of the bodies they belonged
to than a sort of formless drifting blur, there was something spectral
and uncanny about it all that made him shudder. Occasionally he caught
the twinkle of a light- always far away, apparently- almost in another
world; if he heard the tinkle of a sheep's bell, it was vague,
distant, indistinct; the muffled lowing of the herds floated to him on
the night wind in vanishing cadences, a mournful sound; now and then
came the complaining howl of a dog over viewless expanses of field and
forest; all sounds were remote; they made the little king feel that
all life and activity were far removed from him, and that he stood
solitary, companionless, in the center of a measureless solitude.
He stumbled along, through the gruesome fascinations of this new
experience, startled occasionally by the soft rustling of the dry
leaves overhead, so like human whispers they seemed to sound; and by
and by he came suddenly upon the freckled light of a tin lantern
near at hand. He stepped back into the shadows and waited. The lantern
stood by the open door of a barn. The king waited some time- there was
no sound, and nobody stirring. He got so cold, standing still, and the
hospitable barn looked so enticing, that at last he resolved to risk
everything and enter. He started swiftly and stealthily, and just as
he was crossing the threshold he heard voices behind him. He darted
behind a cask, within the barn, and stooped down. Two farm laborers
came in, bringing the lantern with them, and fell to work, talking
meanwhile. Whilst they moved about with the light, the king made
good use of his eyes and took the bearings of what seemed to be a
good-sized stall at the further end of the place, purposing to grope
his way to it when he should be left to himself. He also noted the
position of a pile of horse-blankets, midway of the route, with the
intent to levy upon them for the service of the crown of England for
one night.
By and by the men finished and went away, fastening the door
behind them and taking the lantern with them. The shivering king
made for the blankets, with as good speed as the darkness would allow;
gathered them up and then groped his way safely to the stall. Of two
of the blankets he made a bed, then covered himself with the remaining
two. He was a glad monarch now, though the blankets were old and thin,
and not quite warm enough; and besides gave out a pungent horsy odor
that was almost suffocatingly powerful.
Although the king was hungry and chilly, he was also so tired
and so drowsy that these latter influences soon began to get the
advantage of the former, and he presently dozed off into a state of
semi-consciousness. Then, just as he was on the point of losing
himself wholly, he distinctly felt something touch him. He was broad
awake in a moment, and gasping for breath. The cold horror of that
mysterious touch in the dark almost made his heart stand still. He lay
motionless, and listened, scarcely breathing. But nothing stirred, and
there was no sound. 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 drop into a drowse once more at last; and all at once
he felt that mysterious touch again! It was a grisly thing, this light
touch from this noiseless and invisible presence; it made the boy sick
with ghostly fears. What should he do? That was the question; but he
did not know how to answer it. Should he leave these reasonably
comfortable quarters and fly from this inscrutable horror? But fly
whither? He could not get out of the barn; and the idea of scurrying
blindly hither and thither in the dark, within the captivity of the
four walls, with this phantom gliding after him, and visiting him with
that soft hideous touch upon cheek or shoulder at every turn, was
intolerable. But to stay where he was, and endure this living death
all night- was that better? No. What, then, was there left to do?
Ah, there was but one course; he knew it well- he must put out 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 had encountered anything, but because he had felt so sure it was
just going to. But the fourth time he groped a little further, and his
hand lightly swept against something soft and warm. This petrified him
nearly with fright- his mind was in such a state that he could imagine
the 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
this false thought because he did not know the immortal strength of
human curiosity. In no long time his hand was tremblingly groping
again- against his judgment, and without his consent- but groping
persistently on, 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 a rope at all, but the calf's tail.
The king was cordially ashamed of himself for having gotten all
that fright and misery out of so paltry a matter as a slumbering calf;
but he need not have felt so about it, for it was not the calf that
frightened him but a dreadful non-existent something which the calf
stood for; and any other boy, in those old superstitous times, would
have acted and suffered just as he had done.
The king was not only delighted to find that the creature was only
a calf, but delighted to have the calf's company; for he had been
feeling so lonesome and friendless that the company and comradeship of
even this humble animal was welcome. And he had been so buffeted, so
rudely entreated by his own kind, that it was a real comfort to him to
feel that he was at last in the society of a fellow-creature that
had at least a soft heart and a gentle spirit, whatever loftier
attributes might be lacking. 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 easy reach- it occurred to him that this calf might be utilized
in more ways than one. Whereupon he rearranged his bed, spreading it
down close to the calf; then he cuddled himself up to the calf's back,
drew the covers up over himself and his friend, and in a minute or two
was as warm and comfortable as he had ever been in the downy couches
of the regal palace of Westminster.
Pleasant thoughts came at once; life took on a cheerfuler seeming.
He was free of the bonds of servitude and crime, free of the
companionship of base and brutal outlaws; he was warm, he was
sheltered; in a word, he was happy. The night wind was rising; it
swept by in fitful gusts that made the old barn quake and rattle, then
its forces died down at intervals, 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, he minded it not, he only enjoyed it. He
merely snuggled the closer to his friend, in a luxury of warm
contentment, and drifted blissfully out of consciousness into a deep
and dreamless sleep that was full of serenity and peace. The distant
dogs howled, the melancholy kine complained; and the winds went on
raging, whilst furious sheets of rain drove along the roof; but the
majesty of England slept on undisturbed, and the calf did the same, it
being a simple creature and not easily troubled by storms or
embarrassed by sleeping with a king.
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