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

asleep. He had not slept or rested, before, for more than thirty hours.

He did not wake again until near the middle of the next morning.

He got up, lame, stiff, and half famished, washed himself in the river,

stayed his stomach with a pint or two of water, and trudged off toward

Westminster, grumbling at himself for having wasted so much time. Hunger

helped him to a new plan, now; he would try to get speech with old Sir

Humphrey Marlow and borrow a few marks, and—but that was enough of a

plan for the present; it would be time enough to enlarge it when this

first stage should be accomplished.

Toward eleven o’clock he approached the palace; and although a host of

showy people were about him, moving in the same direction, he was not

inconspicuous—his costume took care of that. He watched these people’s

faces narrowly, hoping to find a charitable one whose possessor might be

willing to carry his name to the old lieutenant—as to trying to get into

the palace himself, that was simply out of the question.

Presently our whipping-boy passed him, then wheeled about and scanned his

figure well, saying to himself, “An’ that is not the very vagabond his

Majesty is in such a worry about, then am I an ass—though belike I was

that before. He answereth the description to a rag—that God should make

two such would be to cheapen miracles by wasteful repetition. I would I

could contrive an excuse to speak with him.”

Miles Hendon saved him the trouble; for he turned about, then, as a man

generally will when somebody mesmerises him by gazing hard at him from

behind; and observing a strong interest in the boy’s eyes, he stepped

toward him and said—

“You have just come out from the palace; do you belong there?”

“Yes, your worship.”

“Know you Sir Humphrey Marlow?”

The boy started, and said to himself, “Lord! mine old departed father!”

Then he answered aloud, “Right well, your worship.”

“Good—is he within?”

“Yes,” said the boy; and added, to himself, “within his grave.”

“Might I crave your favour to carry my name to him, and say I beg to say

a word in his ear?”

“I will despatch the business right willingly, fair sir.”

“Then say Miles Hendon, son of Sir Richard, is here without—I shall be

greatly bounden to you, my good lad.”

The boy looked disappointed. “The King did not name him so,” he said to

himself; “but it mattereth not, this is his twin brother, and can give

his Majesty news of t’other Sir-Odds-and-Ends, I warrant.” So he said to

Miles, “Step in there a moment, good sir, and wait till I bring you

word.”

Hendon retired to the place indicated—it was a recess sunk in the palace

wall, with a stone bench in it—a shelter for sentinels in bad weather.

He had hardly seated himself when some halberdiers, in charge of an

officer, passed by. The officer saw him, halted his men, and commanded

Hendon to come forth. He obeyed, and was promptly arrested as a

suspicious character prowling within the precincts of the palace. Things

began to look ugly. Poor Miles was going to explain, but the officer

roughly silenced him, and ordered his men to disarm him and search him.

“God of his mercy grant that they find somewhat,” said poor Miles; “I

have searched enow, and failed, yet is my need greater than theirs.”

Nothing was found but a document. The officer tore it open, and Hendon

smiled when he recognised the ‘pot-hooks’ made by his lost little friend

that black day at Hendon Hall. The officer’s face grew dark as he read

the English paragraph, and Miles blenched to the opposite colour as he

listened.

“Another new claimant of the Crown!” cried the officer. “Verily they

breed like rabbits, to-day. Seize the rascal, men, and see ye keep him

fast whilst I convey this precious paper within and send it to the King.”

He hurried away, leaving the prisoner in the grip of the halberdiers.

“Now is my evil luck ended at last,” muttered Hendon, “for I shall dangle

at a rope’s end for a certainty, by reason of that bit of writing. And

what will become of my poor lad!—ah, only the good God knoweth.”

By-and-by he saw the officer coming again, in a great hurry; so he

plucked his courage together, purposing to meet his trouble as became a

man. The officer ordered the men to loose the prisoner and return his

sword to him; then bowed respectfully, and said—

“Please you, sir, to follow me.”

Hendon followed, saying to himself, “An’ I were not travelling to death

and judgment, and so must needs economise in sin, I would throttle this

knave for his mock courtesy.”

The two traversed a populous court, and arrived at the grand entrance of

the palace, where the officer, with another bow, delivered Hendon into

the hands of a gorgeous official, who received him with profound respect

and led him forward through a great hall, lined on both sides with rows

of splendid flunkeys (who made reverential obeisance as the two passed

along, but fell into death-throes of silent laughter at our stately

scarecrow the moment his back was turned), and up a broad staircase,

among flocks of fine folk, and finally conducted him into a vast room,

clove a passage for him through the assembled nobility of England, then

made a bow, reminded him to take his hat off, and left him standing in

the middle of the room, a mark for all eyes, for plenty of indignant

frowns, and for a sufficiency of amused and derisive smiles.

Miles Hendon was entirely bewildered. There sat the young King, under a

canopy of state, five steps away, with his head bent down and aside,

speaking with a sort of human bird of paradise—a duke, maybe. Hendon

observed to himself that it was hard enough to be sentenced to death in

the full vigour of life, without having this peculiarly public

humiliation added. He wished the King would hurry about it—some of the

gaudy people near by were becoming pretty offensive. At this moment the

King raised his head slightly, and Hendon caught a good view of his face.

The sight nearly took his breath away!—He stood gazing at the fair young

face like one transfixed; then presently ejaculated—

“Lo, the Lord of the Kingdom of Dreams and Shadows on his throne!”

He muttered some broken sentences, still gazing and marvelling; then

turned his eyes around and about, scanning the gorgeous throng and the

splendid saloon, murmuring, “But these are REAL—verily these are REAL—

surely it is not a dream.”

He stared at the King again—and thought, “IS it a dream … or IS he

the veritable Sovereign of England, and not the friendless poor Tom o’

Bedlam I took him for—who shall solve me this riddle?”

A sudden idea flashed in his eye, and he strode to the wall, gathered up

a chair, brought it back, planted it on the floor, and sat down in it!

A buzz of indignation broke out, a rough hand was laid upon him and a

voice exclaimed—

“Up, thou mannerless clown! would’st sit in the presence of the King?”

The disturbance attracted his Majesty’s attention, who stretched forth

his hand and cried out—

“Touch him not, it is his right!”

The throng fell back, stupefied. The King went on—

“Learn ye all, ladies, lords, and gentlemen, that this is my trusty and

well-beloved servant, Miles Hendon, who interposed his good sword and

saved his prince from bodily harm and possible death—and for this he is

a knight, by the King’s voice. Also learn, that for a higher service, in

that he saved his sovereign stripes and shame, taking these upon himself,

he is a peer of England, Earl of Kent, and shall have gold and lands meet

for the dignity. More—the privilege which he hath just exercised is his

by royal grant; for we have ordained that the chiefs of his line shall

have and hold the right to sit in the presence of the Majesty of England

henceforth, age after age, so long as the crown shall endure. Molest him

not.”

Two persons, who, through delay, had only arrived from the country during

this morning, and had now been in this room only five minutes, stood

listening to these words and looking at the King, then at the scarecrow,

then at the King again, in a sort of torpid bewilderment. These were Sir

Hugh and the Lady Edith. But the new Earl did not see them. He was

still staring at the monarch, in a dazed way, and muttering—

“Oh, body o’ me! THIS my pauper! This my lunatic! This is he whom I

would show what grandeur was, in my house of seventy rooms and seven-and-twenty servants! This is he who had never known aught but rags for

raiment, kicks for comfort, and offal for diet! This is he whom I

adopted and would make respectable! Would God I had a bag to hide my head

in!”

Then his manners suddenly came back to him, and he dropped upon his

knees, with his hands between the King’s, and swore allegiance and did

homage for his lands and titles. Then he rose and stood respectfully

aside, a mark still for all eyes—and much envy, too.

Now the King discovered Sir Hugh, and spoke out with wrathful voice and

kindling eye—

“Strip this robber of his false show and stolen estates, and put him

under lock and key till I have need of him.”

The late Sir Hugh was led away.

There was a stir at the other end of the room, now; the assemblage fell

apart, and Tom Canty, quaintly but richly clothed, marched down, between

these living walls, preceded by an usher. He knelt before the King, who

said—

“I have learned the story of these past few weeks, and am well pleased

with thee. Thou hast governed the realm with right royal gentleness and

mercy. Thou hast found thy mother and thy sisters again? Good; they

shall be cared for—and thy father shall hang, if thou desire it and the

law consent. Know, all ye that hear my voice, that from this day, they

that abide in the shelter of Christ’s Hospital and share the King’s

bounty shall have their minds and hearts fed, as well as their baser

parts; and this boy shall dwell there, and hold the chief place in its

honourable body of governors, during life. And for that he hath been a

king, it is meet that other than common observance shall be his due;

wherefore note this his dress of state, for by it he shall be known, and

none shall copy it; and wheresoever he shall come, it shall remind the

people that he hath been royal, in his time, and none shall deny him his

due of reverence or fail to give him salutation. He hath the throne’s

protection, he hath the crown’s support, he shall be known and called by

the honourable title of the King’s Ward.”

The proud and happy Tom Canty rose and kissed the King’s hand, and was

conducted from the presence. He did not waste any time, but flew to his

mother, to tell her and Nan and Bet all about it and get them to help him

enjoy the great news. {1}

Conclusion. Justice and retribution.

When the mysteries were all cleared up, it came out, by confession of

Hugh Hendon, that his wife had repudiated Miles by his command, that day

at Hendon