The Prince and the Pauper by Mark Twain (novel24 txt) 📕

sceptre was in his hand again; but they kept a firm grip upon him and

enjoyed his impotent struggling and jeered at his threats. This

continued until the poultice began to bite; and in no long time its work

would have been perfected, if there had been no interruption. But there

was; for about this time the ‘slave’ who had made the speech denouncing

England’s laws, appeared on the scene, and put an end to the enterprise,

and stripped off the poultice and bandage.

The King wanted to borrow his deliverer’s cudgel and warm the jackets of

the two rascals on the spot; but the man said no, it would bring trouble

—leave the matter till night; the whole tribe being together, then, the

outside world would not venture to interfere or interrupt. He marched

the party back to camp and reported the affair to the Ruffler, who

listened, pondered, and then decided that the King should not be again

detailed to beg, since it was plain he was worthy of something higher and

better—wherefore, on the spot he promoted him from the mendicant rank

and appointed him to steal!

Hugo was overjoyed. He had already tried to make the King steal, and

failed; but there would be no more trouble of that sort, now, for of

course the King would not dream of defying a distinct command delivered

directly from head-quarters. So he planned a raid for that very

afternoon, purposing to get the King in the law’s grip in the course of

it; and to do it, too, with such ingenious strategy, that it should seem

to be accidental and unintentional; for the King of the Game-Cocks was

popular now, and the gang might not deal over-gently with an unpopular

member who played so serious a treachery upon him as the delivering him

over to the common enemy, the law.

Very well. All in good time Hugo strolled off to a neighbouring village

with his prey; and the two drifted slowly up and down one street after

another, the one watching sharply for a sure chance to achieve his evil

purpose, and the other watching as sharply for a chance to dart away and

get free of his infamous captivity for ever.

Both threw away some tolerably fair-looking opportunities; for both, in

their secret hearts, were resolved to make absolutely sure work this

time, and neither meant to allow his fevered desires to seduce him into

any venture that had much uncertainty about it.

Hugo’s chance came first. For at last a woman approached who carried a

fat package of some sort in a basket. Hugo’s eyes sparkled with sinful

pleasure as he said to himself, “Breath o’ my life, an’ I can but put

THAT upon him, ‘tis good-den and God keep thee, King of the Game-Cocks!”

He waited and watched—outwardly patient, but inwardly consuming with

excitement—till the woman had passed by, and the time was ripe; then

said, in a low voice—

“Tarry here till I come again,” and darted stealthily after the prey.

The King’s heart was filled with joy—he could make his escape, now, if

Hugo’s quest only carried him far enough away.

But he was to have no such luck. Hugo crept behind the woman, snatched

the package, and came running back, wrapping it in an old piece of

blanket which he carried on his arm. The hue and cry was raised in a

moment, by the woman, who knew her loss by the lightening of her burden,

although she had not seen the pilfering done. Hugo thrust the bundle

into the King’s hands without halting, saying—

“Now speed ye after me with the rest, and cry ‘Stop thief!’ but mind ye

lead them astray!”

The next moment Hugo turned a corner and darted down a crooked alley—and

in another moment or two he lounged into view again, looking innocent and

indifferent, and took up a position behind a post to watch results.

The insulted King threw the bundle on the ground; and the blanket fell

away from it just as the woman arrived, with an augmenting crowd at her

heels; she seized the King’s wrist with one hand, snatched up her bundle

with the other, and began to pour out a tirade of abuse upon the boy

while he struggled, without success, to free himself from her grip.

Hugo had seen enough—his enemy was captured and the law would get him,

now—so he slipped away, jubilant and chuckling, and wended campwards,

framing a judicious version of the matter to give to the Ruffler’s crew

as he strode along.

The King continued to struggle in the woman’s strong grasp, and now and

then cried out in vexation—

“Unhand me, thou foolish creature; it was not I that bereaved thee of thy

paltry goods.”

The crowd closed around, threatening the King and calling him names; a

brawny blacksmith in leather apron, and sleeves rolled to his elbows,

made a reach for him, saying he would trounce him well, for a lesson; but

just then a long sword flashed in the air and fell with convincing force

upon the man’s arm, flat side down, the fantastic owner of it remarking

pleasantly, at the same time—

“Marry, good souls, let us proceed gently, not with ill blood and

uncharitable words. This is matter for the law’s consideration, not

private and unofficial handling. Loose thy hold from the boy, goodwife.”

The blacksmith averaged the stalwart soldier with a glance, then went

muttering away, rubbing his arm; the woman released the boy’s wrist

reluctantly; the crowd eyed the stranger unlovingly, but prudently closed

their mouths. The King sprang to his deliverer’s side, with flushed

cheeks and sparkling eyes, exclaiming—

“Thou hast lagged sorely, but thou comest in good season, now, Sir Miles;

carve me this rabble to rags!”

Chapter XXIII. The Prince a prisoner.

Hendon forced back a smile, and bent down and whispered in the King’s

ear—

“Softly, softly, my prince, wag thy tongue warily—nay, suffer it not to

wag at all. Trust in me—all shall go well in the end.” Then he added to

himself: “SIR Miles! Bless me, I had totally forgot I was a knight!

Lord, how marvellous a thing it is, the grip his memory doth take upon

his quaint and crazy fancies! … An empty and foolish title is mine,

and yet it is something to have deserved it; for I think it is more

honour to be held worthy to be a spectre-knight in his Kingdom of Dreams

and Shadows, than to be held base enough to be an earl in some of the

REAL kingdoms of this world.”

The crowd fell apart to admit a constable, who approached and was about

to lay his hand upon the King’s shoulder, when Hendon said—

“Gently, good friend, withhold your hand—he shall go peaceably; I am

responsible for that. Lead on, we will follow.”

The officer led, with the woman and her bundle; Miles and the King

followed after, with the crowd at their heels. The King was inclined to

rebel; but Hendon said to him in a low voice—

“Reflect, Sire—your laws are the wholesome breath of your own royalty;

shall their source resist them, yet require the branches to respect them?

Apparently one of these laws has been broken; when the King is on his

throne again, can it ever grieve him to remember that when he was

seemingly a private person he loyally sank the king in the citizen and

submitted to its authority?”

“Thou art right; say no more; thou shalt see that whatsoever the King of

England requires a subject to suffer, under the law, he will himself

suffer while he holdeth the station of a subject.”

When the woman was called upon to testify before the justice of the

peace, she swore that the small prisoner at the bar was the person who

had committed the theft; there was none able to show the contrary, so the

King stood convicted. The bundle was now unrolled, and when the contents

proved to be a plump little dressed pig, the judge looked troubled,

whilst Hendon turned pale, and his body was thrilled with an electric

shiver of dismay; but the King remained unmoved, protected by his

ignorance. The judge meditated, during an ominous pause, then turned to

the woman, with the question—

“What dost thou hold this property to be worth?”

The woman courtesied and replied—

“Three shillings and eightpence, your worship—I could not abate a penny

and set forth the value honestly.”

The justice glanced around uncomfortably upon the crowd, then nodded to

the constable, and said—

“Clear the court and close the doors.”

It was done. None remained but the two officials, the accused, the

accuser, and Miles Hendon. This latter was rigid and colourless, and on

his forehead big drops of cold sweat gathered, broke and blended

together, and trickled down his face. The judge turned to the woman

again, and said, in a compassionate voice—

“‘Tis a poor ignorant lad, and mayhap was driven hard by hunger, for

these be grievous times for the unfortunate; mark you, he hath not an

evil face—but when hunger driveth—Good woman! dost know that when one

steals a thing above the value of thirteenpence ha’penny the law saith he

shall HANG for it?”

The little King started, wide-eyed with consternation, but controlled

himself and held his peace; but not so the woman. She sprang to her

feet, shaking with fright, and cried out—

“Oh, good lack, what have I done! God-a-mercy, I would not hang the poor

thing for the whole world! Ah, save me from this, your worship—what

shall I do, what CAN I do?”

The justice maintained his judicial composure, and simply said—

“Doubtless it is allowable to revise the value, since it is not yet writ

upon the record.”

“Then in God’s name call the pig eightpence, and heaven bless the day

that freed my conscience of this awesome thing!”

Miles Hendon forgot all decorum in his delight; and surprised the King

and wounded his dignity, by throwing his arms around him and hugging him.

The woman made her grateful adieux and started away with her pig; and

when the constable opened the door for her, he followed her out into the

narrow hall. The justice proceeded to write in his record book. Hendon,

always alert, thought he would like to know why the officer followed the

woman out; so he slipped softly into the dusky hall and listened. He

heard a conversation to this effect—

“It is a fat pig, and promises good eating; I will buy it of thee; here

is the eightpence.”

“Eightpence, indeed! Thou’lt do no such thing. It cost me three

shillings and eightpence, good honest coin of the last reign, that old

Harry that’s just dead ne’er touched or tampered with. A fig for thy

eightpence!”

“Stands the wind in that quarter? Thou wast under oath, and so swore

falsely when thou saidst the value was but eightpence. Come straightway

back with me before his worship, and answer for the crime!—and then the

lad will hang.”

“There, there, dear heart, say no more, I am content. Give me the

eightpence, and hold thy peace about the matter.”

The woman went off crying: Hendon slipped back into the court room, and

the constable presently followed, after hiding his prize in some

convenient place. The justice wrote a while longer, then read the King a

wise and kindly lecture, and sentenced him to a short imprisonment in the

common jail, to be followed by a public flogging. The astounded King

opened his mouth, and