by Mark Twain
CHAPTER XVIII. The Prince with the Tramps.
The troop of vagabonds turned out at early dawn, and set forward ontheir march. ?There was a lowering sky overhead, sloppy ground underfoot, and a winter chill in the air. ?All gaiety was gone from thecompany; some were sullen and silent, some were irritable and petulant,none were gentle-humoured, all were thirsty.
The Ruffler put 'Jack' in Hugo's charge, with some brief instructions,and commanded John Canty to keep away from him and let him alone; healso 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. ?Theygrew more and more cheerful, and finally began to chaff each other andinsult passengers along the highway. ?This showed that they were awakingto an appreciation of life and its joys once more. ?The dread in whichtheir sort was held was apparent in the fact that everybody gave themthe road, and took their ribald insolences meekly, without venturingto talk back. They snatched linen from the hedges, occasionally in fullview of the owners, who made no protest, but only seemed grateful thatthey did not take the hedges, too.
By-and-by they invaded a small farmhouse and made themselves at homewhile the trembling farmer and his people swept the larder clean tofurnish a breakfast for them. ?They chucked the housewife and herdaughters under the chin whilst receiving the food from their hands, andmade coarse jests about them, accompanied with insulting epithets andbursts of horse-laughter. ?They threw bones and vegetables at the farmerand his sons, kept them dodging all the time, and applauded uproariouslywhen a good hit was made. They ended by buttering the head of one ofthe daughters who resented some of their familiarities. ?When they tooktheir leave they threatened to come back and burn the house over theheads of the family if any report of their doings got to the ears of theauthorities.
About noon, after a long and weary tramp, the gang came to a halt behinda hedge on the outskirts of a considerable village. ?An hour was allowedfor rest, then the crew scattered themselves abroad to enter the villageat different points to ply their various trades--'Jack' was sent withHugo. ?They wandered hither and thither for some time, Hugo watchingfor opportunities to do a stroke of business, but finding none--so hefinally said--
"I see nought to steal; it is a paltry place. ?Wherefore we will beg."
"_We_, forsooth! ?Follow thy trade--it befits thee. ?But _I_ will notbeg."
"Thou'lt not beg!" exclaimed Hugo, eyeing the King with surprise."Prithee, since when hast thou reformed?"
"What dost thou mean?"
"Mean? ?Hast thou not begged the streets of London all thy life?"
"I? ?Thou idiot!"
"Spare thy compliments--thy stock will last the longer. ?Thy father saysthou hast begged all thy days. ?Mayhap he lied. Peradventure you willeven make so bold as to _say_ he lied," scoffed Hugo.
"Him _you_ call my father? ?Yes, he lied."
"Come, play not thy merry game of madman so far, mate; use it for thyamusement, not thy hurt. ?An' I tell him this, he will scorch theefinely 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 goingout 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 occasionhere. ?A wise man does not waste so good a commodity as lying fornought. ?But come; sith it is thy humour 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 Iwill tell you what you _will_ do. ?You will play decoy whilst _I_ beg.Refuse, an' you think you may venture!"
The King was about to reply contemptuously, when Hugo said,interrupting--
"Peace! ?Here comes one with a kindly face. ?Now will I fall down ina fit. ?When the stranger runs to me, set you up a wail, and fall uponyour knees, seeming to weep; then cry out as all the devils of miserywere 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 onepitiful look upon a sick, forsaken, and most miserable wretch; bestowone little penny out of thy riches upon one smitten of God and readyto perish!'--and mind you, keep you _on_ wailing, and abate not till webilk him of his penny, else shall you rue it."
Then immediately Hugo began to moan, and groan, and roll his eyes, andreel and totter about; and when the stranger was close at hand, down hesprawled before him, with a shriek, and began to writhe and wallow inthe dirt, in seeming agony.
"O, dear, O dear!" cried the benevolent stranger, "O poor soul, poorsoul, how he doth suffer! ?There--let me help thee up."
"O noble sir, forbear, and God love you for a princely gentleman--but itgiveth me cruel pain to touch me when I am taken so. ?My brother therewill tell your worship how I am racked with anguish when these fits beupon me. ?A penny, dear sir, a penny, to buy a little food; then leaveme to my sorrows."
"A penny! thou shalt have three, thou hapless creature,"--and he fumbledin his pocket with nervous haste and got them out. "There, poor lad,take them and most welcome. ?Now come hither, my boy, and help me carrythy 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. "Hedenies his own brother--and he with one foot in the grave!"
"Boy, thou art indeed hard of heart, if this is thy brother. ?Forshame!--and he scarce able to move hand or foot. ?If he is not thybrother, who is he, then?"
"A beggar and a thief! ?He has got your money and has picked your pocketlikewise. ?An' thou would'st do a healing miracle, lay thy staff overhis shoulders and trust Providence for the rest."
But Hugo did not tarry for the miracle. ?In a moment he was up and offlike the wind, the gentleman following after and raising the hue and crylustily as he went. ?The King, breathing deep gratitude to Heaven forhis own release, fled in the opposite direction, and did not slackenhis pace until he was out of harm's reach. ?He took the first road thatoffered, and soon put the village behind him. ?He hurried along, asbriskly as he could, during several hours, keeping a nervous watch overhis shoulder for pursuit; but his fears left him at last, and a gratefulsense of security took their place. ?He recognised, now, that he washungry, and also very tired. ?So he halted at a farmhouse; but whenhe was about to speak, he was cut short and driven rudely away. ?Hisclothes were against him.
He wandered on, wounded and indignant, and was resolved to put himselfin the way of like treatment no more. ?But hunger is pride's master; so,as the evening drew near, he made an attempt at another farmhouse; buthere he fared worse than before; for he was called hard names and waspromised arrest as a vagrant except he moved on promptly.
The night came on, chilly and overcast; and still the footsore monarchlaboured slowly on. ?He was obliged to keep moving, for every time hesat down to rest he was soon penetrated to the bone with the cold. ?Allhis sensations and experiences, as he moved through the solemn gloomand the empty vastness of the night, were new and strange to him. ?Atintervals he heard voices approach, pass by, and fade into silence; andas he saw nothing more of the bodies they belonged to than a sort offormless drifting blur, there was something spectral and uncanny aboutit all that made him shudder. ?Occasionally he caught the twinkle of alight--always far away, apparently--almost in another world; if he heardthe tinkle of a sheep's bell, it was vague, distant, indistinct;the muffled lowing of the herds floated to him on the night wind invanishing cadences, a mournful sound; now and then came the complaininghowl of a dog over viewless expanses of field and forest; all soundswere remote; they made the little King feel that all li
fe and activitywere far removed from him, and that he stood solitary, companionless, inthe centre of a measureless solitude.
He stumbled along, through the gruesome fascinations of this newexperience, startled occasionally by the soft rustling of the dry leavesoverhead, so like human whispers they seemed to sound; and by-and-by hecame suddenly upon the freckled light of a tin lantern near at hand. ?Hestepped back into the shadows and waited. ?The lantern stood by theopen door of a barn. ?The King waited some time--there was no sound,and nobody stirring. ?He got so cold, standing still, and the hospitablebarn looked so enticing, that at last he resolved to risk everything andenter. He started swiftly and stealthily, and just as he was crossingthe threshold he heard voices behind him. ?He darted behind a cask,within the barn, and stooped down. ?Two farm-labourers came in, bringingthe lantern with them, and fell to work, talking meanwhile. ?Whilst theymoved about with the light, the King made good use of his eyes and tookthe bearings of what seemed to be a good-sized stall at the further endof the place, purposing to grope his way to it when he should be left tohimself. ?He also noted the position of a pile of horse blankets, midwayof the route, with the intent to levy upon them for the service of thecrown of England for one night.
By-and-by the men finished and went away, fastening the door behindthem and taking the lantern with them. ?The shivering King made for theblankets, with as good speed as the darkness would allow; gathered themup, and then groped his way safely to the stall. ?Of two of the blanketshe made a bed, then covered himself with the remaining two. ?He was aglad monarch, now, though the blankets were old and thin, and not quitewarm enough; and besides gave out a pungent horsey odour that was almostsuffocatingly powerful.
Although the King was hungry and chilly, he was also so tired and sodrowsy that these latter influences soon began to get the advantageof the former, and he presently dozed off into a state ofsemi-consciousness. ?Then, just as he was on the point of losing himselfwholly, he distinctly felt something touch him! ?He was broad awake ina moment, and gasping for breath. ?The cold horror of that mysterioustouch in the dark almost made his heart stand still. ?He lay motionless,and listened, scarcely breathing. But nothing stirred, and there wasno sound. ?He continued to listen, and wait, during what seemed a longtime, but still nothing stirred, and there was no sound. ?So he beganto drop into a drowse once more, at last; and all at once he felt thatmysterious touch again! ?It was a grisly thing, this light touch fromthis noiseless and invisible presence; it made the boy sick with ghostlyfears. ?What should he do? ?That was the question; but he did not knowhow to answer it. ?Should he leave these reasonably comfortable quartersand fly from this inscrutable horror? ?But fly whither? ?He couldnot get out of the barn; and the idea of scurrying blindly hither andthither in the dark, within the captivity of the four walls, with thisphantom gliding after him, and visiting him with that soft hideous touchupon cheek or shoulder at every turn, was intolerable. ?But to staywhere 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 tryit. Three times he stretched his hand a little way out into the dark,gingerly; and snatched it suddenly back, with a gasp--not because ithad encountered anything, but because he had felt so sure it was just_going_ to. ?But the fourth time, he groped a little further, and hishand lightly swept against something soft and warm. ?This petrified him,nearly, with fright; his mind was in such a state that he could imaginethe thing to be nothing else than a corpse, newly dead and still warm.He thought he would rather die than touch it again. ?But he thought thisfalse thought because he did not know the immortal strength ofhuman curiosity. In no long time his hand was tremblingly gropingagain--against his judgment, and without his consent--but gropingpersistently on, just the same. ?It encountered a bunch of long hair; heshuddered, but followed up the hair and found what seemed to be a warmrope; followed up the rope and found an innocent calf!--for the rope wasnot a rope at all, but the calf's tail.
The King was cordially ashamed of himself for having gotten all thatfright and misery out of so paltry a matter as a slumbering calf; but heneed not have felt so about it, for it was not the calf that frightenedhim, but a dreadful non-existent something which the calf stood for; andany other boy, in those old superstitious times, would have acted andsuffered just as he had done.
The King was not only delighted to find that the creature was only acalf, but delighted to have the calf's company; for he had been feelingso lonesome and friendless that the company and comradeship of eventhis humble animal were welcome. ?And he had been so buffeted, so rudelyentreated by his own kind, that it was a real comfort to him to feelthat he was at last in the society of a fellow-creature that had atleast a soft heart and a gentle spirit, whatever loftier attributesmight be lacking. ?So he resolved to waive rank and make friends withthe calf.
While stroking its sleek warm back--for it lay near him and within easyreach--it occurred to him that this calf might be utilised in more waysthan one. ?Whereupon he re-arranged his bed, spreading it down close tothe calf; then he cuddled himself up to the calf's back, drew the coversup over himself and his friend, and in a minute or two was as warm andcomfortable as he had ever been in the downy couches of the regal palaceof Westminster.
Pleasant thoughts came at once; life took on a cheerfuller seeming. ?Hewas free of the bonds of servitude and crime, free of the companionshipof base and brutal outlaws; he was warm; he was sheltered; in a word, hewas happy. ?The night wind was rising; it swept by in fitful guststhat made the old barn quake and rattle, then its forces died downat intervals, and went moaning and wailing around corners andprojections--but it was all music to the King, now that he was snug andcomfortable: let it blow and rage, let it batter and bang, let it moanand wail, he minded it not, he only enjoyed it. ?He merely snuggledthe closer to his friend, in a luxury of warm contentment, and driftedblissfully out of consciousness into a deep and dreamless sleep thatwas full of serenity and peace. ?The distant dogs howled, the melancholykine complained, and the winds went on raging, whilst furious sheetsof rain drove along the roof; but the Majesty of England slept on,undisturbed, and the calf did the same, it being a simple creature, andnot easily troubled by storms or embarrassed by sleeping with a king.