CHAPTER IV
The Prince's Troubles Begin
-
AFTER hours of persistent pursuit and persecution, the little
prince was at last deserted by the rabble and left to himself. As long
as he had been able to rage against the mob, and threaten it
royally, and royally utter commands that were good stuff to laugh
at, he was very entertaining; but when weariness finally forced him to
be silent, he was no longer of use to his tormentors, and they
sought amusement elsewhere. He looked about him now, but could not
recognize the locality. He was within 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 were infrequent. He bathed his bleeding
feet in the brook which flowed then where Farringdon Street now is;
rested a few moments, then passed on, and presently came upon a
great space with only a few scattered houses in it, and a prodigious
church. He recognized this church. Scaffoldings were about,
everywhere, and swarms of workmen; for it was undergoing elaborate
repairs. The prince took heart at once- he felt that his troubles were
at 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
for a home forever for poor and forsaken children, and new-named it
Christ's church. Right gladly will they serve the son of him who
hath done so generously by them- and the more that that son is himself
as poor and as forlorn 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, and right noisily, too. They were all dressed alike, and
in the fashion which in that day prevailed among serving-men and
'prentices'*- that is to say, each had on the crown of his head a flat
black cap about the size of a saucer, which was not useful as a
covering, it being of such scanty dimensions, 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 as low as the knees
or lower; full sleeves; a broad red belt; bright yellow stockings,
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
with native dignity:
'Good lads, say to your master that Edward Prince of Wales
desireth speech 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 boy said:
'Didst mark that? He fancied he had a sword- belike he is the
prince himself.'
This sally brought more laughter. Poor Edward drew himself up
proudly and said:
'I am the prince; and it ill beseemeth you that feed upon the king
my father's bounty to use me so.'
This was vastly enjoyed, as the laughter testified. The youth
who had first spoken shouted to his comrades:
'Ho, swine, slaves, pensioners of his grace's princely father,
where be your manners? Down on your marrow bones, all of ye, and do
reverence to his kingly port and royal rags!'
With boisterous mirth they dropped upon their knees in a body
and did mock homage to their prey. The prince spurned the nearest
boy with his foot, 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
laughter ceased on the instant and fury took its place. A dozen
shouted:
'Hale him forth! To the horse-pond, to the horse-pond! Where be
the dogs? Ho, there, Lion! ho, Fangs!'
Then followed such a thing as England had never seen before- the
sacred person of the heir to the throne rudely buffeted by plebeian
hands, and set upon and torn by dogs.
As night drew to a close that day, the prince found himself far
down in the close-built portion of the city. His body was bruised, his
hands were bleeding, and his rags were all besmirched with mud. He
wandered on and on, and grew more and more bewildered, and so tired
and faint he could hardly drag one foot after the other. He had ceased
to ask questions of any one, since they brought him only insult
instead of information. He kept muttering to himself, 'Offal Court-
that is the name; 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 that I am none of theirs, but the true prince,
and I shall have mine own again.' And now and then his mind reverted
to his treatment by those rude Christ's Hospital boys, and he said,
'When I am king, they shall not have bread and shelter only, but
also teachings out of books; for a full belly is little worth where
the mind is starved, and the heart. I will keep this diligently in
my remembrance, that this day's lesson be not lost upon me, and my
people suffer thereby; for learning softeneth the heart and breedeth
gentleness and charity.'*(2)
The lights began to twinkle, it came on to rain, the wind rose,
and a raw and gusty night set in. The houseless prince, the homeless
heir to the throne of England, still moved on, drifting deeper into
the maze of squalid alleys where the swarming hives of poverty and
misery were massed together.
Suddenly a great drunken ruffian collared him and said:
'Out to this time of night again, and hast not brought a
farthing home, I warrant me! If it be so, an I do not break all the
bones in thy lean body, then am I not John Canty, but some other.'
The prince twisted himself loose, unconsciously brushed his
profaned shoulder, and eagerly said:
'Oh, art his father, truly? Sweet heaven grant it be so- then wilt
thou fetch 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 can bear no more. Take me to the king my father, and he will make
thee rich beyond 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 the Prince of Wales!'
The man stared down, stupefied, upon the lad, then shook his
head and muttered:
'Gone stark mad as any Tom o' Bedlam!'- then collared him once
more, and said with a coarse laugh and an oath, 'But mad or no mad,
I and thy Gammer Canty will soon find where the soft places in thy
bones lie, or I'm no true man!'
With this he dragged the frantic and struggling prince away, and
disappeared up a front court followed by a delighted and noisy swarm
of human vermin.
CHAPTER_V
CHAPTER V
Tom as a Patrician
-
TOM CANTY, left alone in the prince's cabinet, made good use of
his opportunity. He turned himself this way and that before the
great mirror, admiring his finery; then walked away, imitating the
prince's high-bred carriage, and still observing results in the glass.
Next he drew the beautiful sword, and bowed, kissing the blade, and
laying it across his breast, as he had seen a noble knight do, by
way of salute to the lieutenant of the Tower, five or six weeks
before, when delivering the great lords of Norfolk and Surrey into his
hands for captivity. Tom played with the jeweled dagger that hung upon
his thigh; he examined the costly and exquisite ornaments of the room;
he tried each of the sumptuous chairs, and thought how proud he
would be if the Offal Court herd could only peep in and see him in his
grandeur. He wondered if they would believe the marvelous tale he
should tell when he got home, or if they would shake their heads,
and say his overtaxed imagination had at last upset his reason.
At the end of half an hour it suddenly occurred to him that the
prince was gone a long time; then right away he began to feel
lonely; very soon he fell to listening and longing, and ceased to
toy with the pretty things about him; he grew uneasy, then restless,
then distressed. Suppose some one should come, and catch him in the
prince's clothes, and the prince not there to explain. Might they
not hang him at once, and inquire into his case afterward? He had
heard that the great were prompt about small matters. His fears rose
higher and higher; and trembling he softly opened the door to the
ante-chamber, resolved to fly and seek the prince, and through him,
protection and release. Six gorgeous gentlemen-servants and two
young pages of high degree, clothed like butterflies, sprung to
their feet, and bowed low before him. He stepped quickly back, and
shut the door. He said:
'Oh, they mock at me! They will go and tell. Oh! why came I here
to cast 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 a silken 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
Canty of Offal Court in the city. Prithee let me see the prince, and
he will of his grace restore to me my rags, and let me hence unhurt.
Oh, be thou merciful, and save me!'
By this time the boy was on his knees, and supplicating with his
eyes and uplifted hands as well as with his tongue. The young girl
seemed horror-stricken. She cried out:
'Oh, 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
speeding through the palace. The whisper, for it was whispered always,
flew from menial to menial, from lord to lady, down all the long
corridors, from story to story, from saloon to saloon, 'The prince
hath gone mad, the prince hath gone mad!' Soon every saloon, every
marble hall, had its groups of glittering lords and ladies, and
other groups of dazzling lesser folk, talking earnestly together in
whispers, and every face had in it dismay. Presently a splendid
official came marching by these groups, making solemn proclamation:
-
'IN THE NAME OF THE KING
-
Let none list to this false and foolish matter, upon pain of death,
nor discuss the same, nor carry it abroad. In the name of the king!'
-
The whisperings ceased as suddenly as if the whisperers had been
stricken dumb.
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 in return, and meekly gazing upon his strange surroundings with
bewildered and pathetic eyes. Great nobles walked upon each side of
him, making him lean upon them, and so steady his steps. Behind him
followed the court physicians and some servants.
Presently Tom found himself in a noble apartment of the palace,
and heard the 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 very gray; and his whiskers, which he wore only around his
face, like a frame, were gray also. His clothing was of rich stuff,
but old, and slightly frayed in places. One of his swollen legs had
a pillow under it, and was wrapped in bandages. There was silence now;
and there was no head there but was bent in reverence, except this
man's. This stern-countenanced invalid was the dread Henry VIII. He
said- and his face grew gentle as he began to speak:
'How now, my lord Edward, my prince? Hast been minded to cozen me,
the good king thy father, who loveth thee, and kindly useth thee, with
a sorry jest?'
Poor Tom was listening, as well as his dazed faculties would let
him, to the beginning of this speech; but when the words 'me the
good king' fell upon his ear, his face blanched, and he dropped as
instantly upon his knees as if a shot had brought him there. Lifting
up his hands, he exclaimed:
'Thou the king? Then am I undone indeed!'
This speech seemed to stun the king. His eyes wandered from face
to face aimlessly, then rested, bewildered, upon the boy before him.
Then he said in a tone of deep disappointment:
'Alack, I had believed the rumor disproportioned to the truth; but
I fear me 'tis not so.' He breathed a heavy sigh, and said in a gentle
voice, '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 his hands, and gazed earnestly and lovingly into it awhile, as
if seeking some grateful sign of returning reason there, then
pressed the curly head against his breast, and patted it tenderly.
Presently he said:
'Dost thou know thy father, child? Break not mine old heart; say
thou know'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 none here who would hurt thee; there is none here but loves thee.
Thou art better now; thy ill dream passeth- is't not so? And thou
knowest thyself now also- is't not so? Thou wilt not miscall thyself
again, as they say thou didst a little while agone?'
'I pray thee of thy grace believe me, I did but speak the truth,
most dread 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 therein nothing blameful. I am but young to die, and thou
canst save me with one little 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, oh my king, and save thee long to bless
thy land!' Then springing up, he turned a joyful face toward the two
lords in waiting, and exclaimed, 'Thou heard'st it! I am not to die:
the king hath said it!' There was no movement, save that all bowed
with grave respect; but no one spoke. He hesitated, a little confused,
then turned timidly toward the king, saying, 'I may go now?'
'Go? Surely, if thou desirest. But why not tarry yet a little?
Whither wouldst go?'
Tom dropped his eyes, and answered humbly:
'Peradventure I mistook; but I did think me free, and so was I
moved to seek again the kennel where I was born and bred to misery,
yet which harboreth my mother and my sisters, and so is home to me;
whereas these pomps and splendors whereunto I am not used- oh,
please you, sir, to let me go!'
The king was silent and thoughtful awhile, and his face betrayed a
growing distress and uneasiness. Presently he said, with something
of hope in his voice:
'Perchance he is but mad upon this one strain and hath his wits
unmarred as 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 the same tongue. The King was delighted, and showed it. The lords
and doctors manifested their gratification also.
The king said:
''Twas not according to his schooling and ability, but sheweth
that his mind is but diseased, not stricken fatally. How say you,
sir?'
The physician addressed bowed low, and replied:
'It jumpeth with mine own conviction, sire, that thou hast divined
aright.'
The king looked pleased with this encouragement, coming as it
did from so excellent 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 centered upon him, then said
diffidently:
'I have no knowledge of this tongue, so please your majesty.'
The king fell back upon his couch. The attendants flew to his
assistance; 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 head upon thy father's heart, and be at peace. Thou'lt soon
be well; 'tis but a passing fantasy. Fear thou not; thou'lt soon be
well.' Then he turned toward the company; his gentle manner changed,
and baleful lightnings began to play from his eyes. He said:
'List ye all! This my son is mad; but it is not permanent.
Overstudy hath done this, and somewhat too much of confinement. Away
with his books and teachers! see ye to it. Pleasure him with sports,
beguile him in wholesome ways, so that his health come again.' He
raised himself higher still and went on with energy. 'He is mad; but
he is my son, and England's heir; and, mad or sane, still shall he
reign! And hear ye further, and proclaim it; whoso speaketh of this
his distemper worketh against 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 the king will confirm it. This very morrow shall he be
installed in his princely dignity in due and ancient form. Take
instant order for it, my Lord Hertford.'
One of the nobles knelt at the royal couch, and said:
'The king's majesty knoweth that the Hereditary Great Marshal of
England lieth attainted in the Tower. It were not meet that one
attainted-'
'Peace! Insult not mine ears with his hated name. Is this man to
live forever? Am I to be balked of my will? Is the prince to tarry
uninstalled, because, forsooth, the realm lacketh an earl marshal free
of treasonable taint to invest him with his honors? No, by the
splendor of God! Warn my parliament to bring me Norfolk's doom
before the sun rise again, else shall they answer for it
grievously!*(3)
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
loving father?'
'Thou art good to me that am unworthy, O mighty and gracious lord;
that in truth I know. But- but- it grieveth me to think of him that is
to die, 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
gentle spirit. But this duke standeth between thee and thine honors: I
will have 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
not live, but for me?'
'Take no thought of him, my prince: he is not worthy. Kiss me once
again, and go to thy trifles and amusements; for my malady distresseth
me. I am aweary, and would rest. Go with thine uncle Hertford and
thy people, and come again when my body is refreshed.'
Tom, heavy-hearted, was conducted from the presence, for this last
sentence was a death-blow to the hope he had cherished that now he
would be set free. Once more he heard the buzz of low voices
exclaiming, 'The prince, the prince comes!'
His spirits sank lower and lower as he moved between the
glittering files of bowing courtiers; for he recognized that he was
indeed a captive now, and might remain forever shut up in this
gilded cage, a forlorn and friendless prince, except God in his
mercy take pity on him and set him free.
And, turn where he would, he seemed to see floating in the air the
severed head and the remembered face of the great Duke of Norfolk, the
eyes fixed on him reproachfully.
His old dreams had been so pleasant; but this reality was so
dreary!
CHAPTER_VI
CHAPTER VI
Tom Recieves Instructions
-
TOM was conducted to the principal apartment of a noble suite, and
made to sit down- a thing which he was loath to do, since there were
elderly men 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 in his ear:
'Prithee, insist not, my lord; it is not meet that they sit in thy
presence.'
The Lord St. John was announced, and, after making obeisance to
Tom, he said:
'I come upon the king's errand, concerning a matter which
requireth privacy. Will it please your royal highness to dismiss all
that attend you here, save my lord the Earl of Hertford?'
Observing that Tom did not seem to know how to proceed, Hertford
whispered him to make a sign with his hand and not trouble himself
to speak unless he chose. When the waiting gentlemen had retired, Lord
St. John said:
'His majesty commandeth, that for due and weighty reasons of
state, the prince's grace shall hide his infirmity in all ways that be
within his power, till it be passed and he be as he was before. To
wit, that he shall deny to none that he is the true prince, and heir
to England's greatness; that he shall uphold his princely dignity, and
shall receive, without word or sign of protest, that reverence and
observance which unto it do appertain of right and ancient usage; that
he shall cease to speak to any of that lowly birth and life his malady
hath conjured out of the unwholesome imaginings of o'erwrought
fancy; that he shall strive with diligence to bring unto his memory
again those faces which he was wont to know- and where he faileth he
shall hold his peace, neither betraying by semblance of surprise, or
other sign, that he hath forgot; that upon occasions of state,
whensoever any matter shall perplex him as to the thing he should do
or the utterance he should make, he shall show naught of unrest to the
curious that look on, but take advice in that matter of the Lord
Hertford, or my humble self, which are commanded of the king to be
upon this service and close at call, till this commandment be
dissolved. Thus saith the king's majesty, who sendeth greeting to your
royal highness and prayeth that God will of His mercy quickly heal you
and have you now and ever in His holy keeping.'
The Lord St. John made reverence and stood aside. Tom replied,
resignedly:
'The king hath said it. None may palter with the king's command,
or fit it to his ease, where it doth chafe, with deft evasions. The
king shall be obeyed.'
Lord Hertford said:
'Touching the king's majesty's ordainment concerning books and
such like serious matters, it may peradventure please your highness to
ease your time with lightsome entertainment, lest you go wearied to
the banquet and suffer harm thereby.'
Tom's face showed inquiring surprise; and a blush followed when he
saw Lord St. John's eyes bent sorrowfully upon him. His lordship said:
'Thy memory still wrongeth thee, and thou hast shown surprise- but
suffer it not to trouble thee, for 'tis a matter that will not bide,
but depart with thy mending malady. My Lord of Hertford speaketh of
the city's banquet which the king's majesty did promise two months
flown, your highness should attend. Thou recallest it now?'
'It grieves me to confess it had indeed escaped me,' said Tom,
in a hesitating voice; and blushed again.
At that moment the Lady Elizabeth and the Lady Jane Grey were
announced. The two lords exchanged significant glances, and Hertford
stepped quickly toward the door. As the young girls passed him, he
said in a low voice:
'I pray ye, ladies, seem not to observe his humors, nor show
surprise when his memory doth lapse- it will grieve you to note how it
doth stick at every trifle.'
Meanwhile Lord St. John was saying in Tom's ear:
'Please you, sir, keep diligently in mind his majesty's desire.
Remember all thou canst- seem to remember all else. Let them not
perceive that thou art much changed from thy wont, for thou knowest
how tenderly thy old playfellows 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
was already learning, and in his simple heart was resolved to acquit
himself as best he might according to the king's command.
In spite of every precaution, the conversation among the young
people became a little embarrassing at times. More than once, in
truth, Tom was near to breaking down and confessing himself unequal to
his tremendous part; but the tact of the Princess Elizabeth saved him,
or a word from one 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 and dismayed him with this question:
'Hast paid thy duty to the queen's majesty today, my lord?'
Tom hesitated, looked distressed, and was about to stammer out
something at hazard when Lord St. John took the word and answered
for him with the easy grace of a courtier accustomed to encounter
delicate difficulties and to be ready for them:
'He hath indeed, madam, and she did greatly hearten him, as
touching his majesty's condition; is it not so, your highness?'
Tom mumbled something that stood for assent, but felt that he
was getting upon dangerous ground. Somewhat later it was mentioned
that Tom was to study no more at present, whereupon her little
ladyship exclaimed:
''Tis a pity, 'tis such a pity! Thou were proceeding bravely.
But bide thy time in patience; it will not be for long. Thou'lt yet be
graced with learning like thy father, and make thy tongue master of as
many languages as his, good my prince.'
'My father!' cried Tom, off his guard for the moment. 'I trow he
cannot speak his own so that any but the swine that wallow in the
sties may tell his 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
malady persecuteth me again, and my mind wandereth. I meant the king's
grace no irreverence.'
'We know it, sir,' said the Princess Elizabeth, taking her
'brother's' hand between her two palms, respectfully but
caressingly; 'trouble not thyself as to that. The fault is none of
thine, but thy distemper's.'
'Thou'rt a gentle comforter, sweet lady,' said Tom, gratefully,
'and my heart 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. The Princess Elizabeth's quick eye saw by the serene blankness of
the target's front that the shaft was overshot; so she tranquilly
delivered a return volley of sounding Greek on Tom's behalf, and
then straightway changed the talk to other matters.
Time wore on pleasantly, and likewise smoothly, on the whole.
Snags and sand-bars grew less and less frequent, and Tom grew more and
more at his ease, seeing that all were so lovingly bent upon helping
him and overlooking his mistakes. When it came out that the little
ladies were to accompany him to the Lord Mayor's banquet in the
evening, his heart gave a bound of relief and delight, for he felt
that he should not be friendless now, among that multitude of
strangers, whereas, an hour earlier, the idea of their going with
him would have been an insupportable terror to him.
Tom's guardian angels, the two lords, had had less comfort in
the interview than the other parties to it. They felt much as if
they were piloting a great ship through a dangerous channel; they were
on the alert constantly, and found their office no child's play.
Wherefore, at last, when the ladies' visit was drawing to a close
and the Lord Guilford Dudley was announced, they not only felt that
their charge had been sufficiently taxed for the present, but also
that they themselves were not in the best condition to take their ship
back and make their anxious voyage all over again. So they
respectfully advised Tom to excuse himself, which he was very glad
to do, although a slight shade of disappointment might have been
observed upon my Lady Jane's face when she heard the splendid
stripling denied admittance.
There was a pause now, a sort of waiting silence which Tom could
not understand. He glanced at Lord Hertford, who gave him a sign-
but he failed to understand that also. The ready Elizabeth came to the
rescue with 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
the asking; yet would I rather give them any other thing that in my
poor power lieth, than leave to take the light and blessing of their
presence hence. Give ye good den, and God be with ye!' Then he
smiled inwardly at the thought, ''tis not for naught I have dwelt
but among princes in my reading, and taught my tongue some slight
trick of their broidered and gracious speech withal!'
When the illustrious maidens were gone, Tom turned wearily to
his keepers and said:
'May it please your lordships to grant me leave to go into some
corner and rest me!'
Lord Hertford said:
'So please your highness, it is for you to command, it is for us
to obey. That thou shouldst rest, is indeed a needful thing, since
thou must journey to the city presently.'
He touched a bell and a page appeared, who was ordered to desire
the presence of Sir William Herbert. This gentleman came
straightway, and conducted Tom to an inner apartment. Tom's first
movement there was to reach 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-velvet discomforter went down upon his knees and took the
office from him. He made two or three further efforts to help himself,
but being promptly forestalled each time, he finally gave up, with a
sigh of resignation and a murmured 'Beshrew me, but I marvel they do
not require to breathe for me also!' Slippered, and wrapped in a
sumptuous robe, he laid himself down at last to rest, but not to
sleep, for his head was too full of thoughts and the room too full
of people. He could not dismiss the former, so they stayed; he did not
know enough to dismiss the latter, so they stayed also, to his vast
regret- and theirs.
Tom's departure had left his two noble guardians alone. They mused
awhile, with much headshaking and walking the floor, then Lord St.
John said:
'Plainly, what dost thou think?'
'Plainly, then, this. The king is near his end, my nephew is
mad, mad will mount the throne, and mad remain. God protect England,
since she will 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
he was upon delicate ground. Lord Hertford stopped before him,
looked into his face with a clear, frank eye, and said:
'Speak on- there is none to hear but me. Misgivings as to what?'
'I am loath to word the thing that is in my mind, and thou so near
to him in blood, my lord. But craving pardon if I do offend, seemeth
it not strange that madness could so change his port and manner!-
not but that his port and speech are princely still, but that they
differ in one unweighty trifle or another, from what his custom was
aforetime. Seemeth it not strange that madness should filch from his
memory his father's very lineaments; the customs and observances
that are his due from such as be about him; and, leaving him his
Latin, strip him of his Greek and French? My lord, be not offended,
but ease my mind of its disquiet and receive my grateful thanks. It
haunteth me, his saying he was not the prince, 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 out of 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 of others, it shall be as though thou hadst not spoken. But
thou needst not 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 odd conflicting things thou seest in him, and more. Dost
not recall how that the old Baron Marley, being mad, forgot the
favor of his own countenance that he had known for sixty years, and
held it was another's; nay, even claimed he was the son of Mary
Magdalene, and that his head was made of Spanish glass; and sooth to
say, he suffered none to touch it, lest by mischance some heedless
hand might shiver it. Give thy misgivings easement, good my lord. This
is the very prince, I know him well- and soon will be thy king; it may
advantage thee to bear this in mind and more dwell upon it than the
other.'
After some further talk, in which the Lord St. John covered up his
mistake as well as he could by repeated protests that his faith was
thoroughly grounded now, and could not be assailed by doubts again,
the Lord Hertford relieved his fellow-keeper, and sat down to keep
watch and ward alone. He was soon deep in meditation. And evidently
the longer he thought, the more he was bothered. By and by he began to
pace the floor and mutter.
'Tush, he must be the prince! Will any he in all the land maintain
there can be two, not of one blood and birth, so marvelously
twinned? And even were it so, 'twere yet a stranger miracle that
chance should cast the 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 be natural; 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 soul of St. Swithin, no! This is the true prince, gone mad!'
CHAPTER_VII
CHAPTER VII
Tom's First Royal Dinner
-
SOMEWHAT after one in the afternoon, Tom resignedly underwent
the ordeal of being dressed for dinner. He found himself as finely
clothed as before, but everything different, everything changed,
from his ruff to his stockings. He was presently conducted with much
state to a spacious and ornate apartment, where a table was already
set for one. Its furniture was all of massy gold, and beautified
with designs which well-nigh made it priceless, since they were the
work of Benvenuto. The room was half filled with noble servitors. A
chaplain said grace, and Tom was about to fall to, for hunger had long
been constitutional with him, but was interrupted by my lord the
Earl of Berkeley, who fastened a napkin about his neck; for the
great post of Diaperers to the Prince of Wales was hereditary in
this nobleman's family. Tom's cupbearer was present, and forestalled
all his attempts to help himself to wine. The Taster to his Highness
the Prince of Wales was there also, prepared to taste any suspicious
dish upon requirement, and run the risk of being poisoned. He was only
an ornamental appendage at this time, and was seldom called to
exercise his function; but there had been times, not many
generations past, when the office of taster had its perils, and was
not a grandeur to be desired. Why they did not use a dog or a
plumber seems strange; but all the ways of royalty are strange. My
Lord d'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, and stood behind Tom's chair overseeing the
solemnities, under command of the Lord Great Steward and the Lord Head
Cook, who stood near. Tom had three hundred and eighty-four servants
besides these; but they were not all in that room, of course, nor
the quarter of them; neither was Tom aware yet that they existed.
All those that were present had been well drilled within the
hour to remember that the prince was temporarily out of his head,
and to be careful to show no surprise at his vagaries. These
'vagaries' were soon on exhibition before them; but they only moved
their compassion and their sorrow, not their mirth. It was a heavy
affliction to them to see the beloved prince so stricken.
Poor Tom ate with his fingers mainly; but no one smiled at it,
or even seemed to observe it. He inspected his napkin curiously and
with deep interest, for it was of a very dainty and beautiful
fabric, then said with simplicity:
'Prithee, take it away, lest in mine unheedfulness it be soiled.'
The Hereditary Diaperer took it away with reverent manner, and
without word or protest of any sort.
Tom examined the turnips and the lettuce with interest, and
asked what they were, and if they were to be eaten; for it was only
recently that men had begun to raise these things in England in
place of importing them as luxuries from Holland.*(4) His question was
answered with grave respect, 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 been permitted to do with his own hands during the
meal, and he did not doubt that he had done a most improper and
unprincely thing. At that moment the muscles of his nose began to
twitch, and the end of that organ to lift and wrinkle. This continued,
and Tom began to evince a growing distress. He looked appealingly,
first at one and then another of the lords about him, and tears came
into his eyes. They sprang forward with dismay in their faces, and
begged to know his trouble. Tom said with genuine anguish:
'I crave your indulgence; my nose itcheth cruelly. What is the
custom and usage in this emergence? Prithee speed, for 'tis but a
little time that I can bear it.'
None smiled; but all were sore perplexed, and looked one to the
other in deep tribulation for counsel. But, behold, here was a dead
wall, and nothing in English history to tell how to get over it. The
Master of Ceremonies was not present; there was no one who felt safe
to venture upon this uncharted sea, or risk the attempt to solve
this solemn problem. Alas! there was no Hereditary Scratcher. Meantime
the tears had overflowed their banks, and begun to trickle down
Tom's cheeks. His twitching nose was pleading more urgently than
ever for relief. At last nature broke down the barriers of
etiquette; Tom lifted up an inward prayer for pardon if he was doing
wrong, and brought relief to the burdened 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 rose-water in it, to cleanse his
mouth and fingers with; and my lord the Hereditary Diaperer stood by
with a napkin for his use. Tom gazed at the dish a puzzled moment or
two, then raised it to his lips, and gravely took a draught. Then he
returned it to the waiting lord, and said:
'Nay, it likes me not, my lord; it hath a pretty flavor, but it
wanteth strength.'
This new eccentricity of the prince's ruined mind made all the
hearts about him ache; but the sad sight moved none to merriment.
Tom's next unconscious blunder was to get up and leave the table
just when the chaplain had taken his stand behind his chair and with
uplifted hands and closed uplifted eyes, was in the act of beginning
the blessing. Still nobody seemed to perceive that the prince had done
a thing unusual.
By his own request, our small friend was now conducted to his
private cabinet, and left there alone to his own devices. Hanging upon
hooks in the oaken wainscoting were the several pieces of a suit of
shining steel armor, covered all over with beautiful designs
exquisitely inlaid in gold. This martial panoply belonged to the
true prince- a recent present from Madam Parr, the queen. Tom put on
the greaves, the gauntlets, the plumed 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, but bethought him of the nuts he had
brought away from dinner, and the joy it would be to eat them with
no crowd to eye him, and no Grand Hereditaries to pester him with
undesired services; so he restored the pretty things to their
several places, and soon was cracking nuts, and feeling almost
naturally happy for the first time since God for his sins had made him
a prince. When the nuts were all gone, he stumbled upon some
inviting books in a closet, among them one about the etiquette of
the English court. This was a prize. He lay down upon a sumptuous
divan, and proceeded to instruct himself with honest zeal. Let us
leave him there for the present.
CHAPTER_VIII
CHAPTER VIII
The Question of the Seal
-
ABOUT five o'clock Henry VIII awoke out of an unrefreshing nap,
and muttered to himself, 'Troublous dreams, troublous dreams! Mine end
is now at 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 will not I die till he go before.'
His attendants perceiving that he was awake, one of them asked his
pleasure 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 of the 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 his majesty'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 with mine own hand will I seal the warrant that rids me of-'
His voice failed; an ashen pallor swept the flush from his cheeks;
and the attendants eased him back upon his pillows, and hurriedly
assisted him with restoratives. Presently he said sorrowfully:
'Alack, how have I longed for this sweet hour! and lo, too late it
cometh, and I am robbed of this so coveted chance. But speed ye, speed
ye! let others do this happy office sith 'tis denied to me. I put my
great 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
and set again, bring me his head that I may see it.'
'According to the king's command, so shall it be. Will't please
your majesty to order that the Seal be now restored to me, so that I
may forth upon the business?'
'The Seal! Who keepeth the Seal but thou?'
'Please your majesty, you did take it from me two days since,
saying it should no more do its office till your own royal hand should
use it upon the Duke of Norfolk's warrant.'
'Why, so in sooth I did; I do remember it.... What did I with
it!... I am very feeble.... So oft these days doth my memory play
the traitor with me.... 'Tis strange, strange-'
The king dropped into inarticulate mumblings, shaking his gray
head weakly from time to time, and gropingly trying to recollect
what he had done with the Seal. At last my Lord Hertford ventured to
kneel and offer information-
'Sire, if that I may be so bold, here be several that do
remember with me how that you gave the Great Seal into the hands of
his Highness the Prince 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
unwelcome tidings; but it is the will of God that the prince's
affliction abideth still, and he cannot recall to mind that he
received the Seal. So came I quickly to report, thinking it were waste
of precious time, and little worth withal, that any should attempt
to search the long array of chambers and saloons that belong unto
his royal high-'
A groan from the king interrupted my lord at this point. After a
while 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 I may not bear his burden on mine own old trouble-weighted
shoulders, and so bring him peace.'
He closed his eyes, fell to mumbling, and presently was silent.
After a time he opened his eyes again, and gazed vacantly around until
his glance rested upon the kneeling Lord Chancellor. Instantly his
face flushed with wrath:
'What, thou here yet! By the glory of God, an thou gettest not
about that traitor's business, thy miter shall have holiday the morrow
for lack of 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 to take with me abroad lieth in my treasury. And, since the Great
Seal hath flown away, shall not it suffice? Hast lost thy wits?
Begone! And hark ye- come no more till thou do bring his head.'
The poor Chancellor was not long in removing himself from this
dangerous vicinity; nor did the commission waste time in giving the
royal assent to the work of the slavish Parliament, and appointing the
morrow for the beheading of the premier peer of England, the
luckless Duke of Norfolk.*(5)
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