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Support the Monkey! Tell All your Friends and Teachers |
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Support the Monkey! Tell All your Friends and Teachers |
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CHAPTER X The Prince in the Toils WE left John Canty dragging the rightful prince into Offal Court, with a noisy and delighted mob at his heels. There was but one person in it who offered a pleading word for the captive, and he was not heeded; he was hardly even heard, so great was the turmoil. The prince continued to struggle for freedom, and to rage against the treatment he was suffering, until John Canty lost what little patience was left in him, and raised his oaken cudgel in a sudden fury over the prince’s head. The single pleader for the lad sprang to stop the man’s arm, and the blow descended upon his own wrist. Canty roared out: ‘Thou’lt meddle, wilt thou? Then have thy reward.’ His cudgel crashed down upon the meddler’s head; there was a groan, a dim form sank to the ground among the feet of the crowd, and the next moment it lay there in the dark alone. The mob pressed on, their enjoyment nothing disturbed by this episode. Presently the prince found himself in John Canty’s abode, with the door closed against the outsiders. By the vague light of a tallow candle which was thrust into a bottle, he made out the main features of the loathsome den, and also of the occupants of it. Two frowsy girls and a middle-aged woman cowered against the wall in one corner, with the aspect of animals habituated to harsh usage, and expecting and dreading it now. From another corner stole a withered hag with streaming gray hair and malignant eyes. John Canty said to this one: ‘Tarry! There’s fine mummeries here. Mar them not till thou’st enjoyed them; then let thy hand be heavy as thou wilt. Stand forth, lad. Now say thy foolery again, an thou’st not forget it. Name thy name. Who art thou?’ The insulted blood mounted to the little prince’s cheek once more, and he lifted a steady and indignant gaze to the man’s face, and said: ‘’Tis but ill-breeding in such as thou to command me to speak. I tell thee now, as I told thee before, I am Edward, Prince of Wales, and none other.’ The stunning surprise of this reply nailed the hag’s feet to the floor where she stood, and almost took her breath. She stared at the prince in stupid amazement, which so amused her ruffianly son that he burst into a roar of laughter. But the effect upon Tom Canty’s mother and sisters was different. Their dread of bodily injury gave way at once to distress of a different sort. They ran forward with woe and dismay in their faces, exclaiming: ‘Oh, poor Tom, poor lad!’ The mother fell on her knees before the prince, put her hands upon his shoulders, and gazed yearningly into his face through her rising tears. Then she said: ‘Oh, my poor boy! thy foolish reading hath wrought its woeful work at last, and ta’en thy wit away. Ah! why didst thou cleave to it when I so warned thee ‘gainst it? Thou’st broke thy mother’s heart.’ The prince looked into her face, and said gently: ‘Thy son is well and hath not lost his wits, good dame. Comfort thee; let me to the palace where he is, and straightway will the king my father restore him to thee.’ ‘The king thy father! Oh, my child! unsay these words that be freighted with death for thee, and ruin |
