by Mark Twain
CHAPTER XXVII. In Prison.
The cells were all crowded; so the two friends were chained in a largeroom where persons charged with trifling offences were commonly kept.They had company, for there were some twenty manacled and fetteredprisoners here, of both sexes and of varying ages,--an obscene and noisygang. ?The King chafed bitterly over the stupendous indignity thus putupon his royalty, but Hendon was moody and taciturn. ?He was prettythoroughly bewildered; he had come home, a jubilant prodigal, expectingto find everybody wild with joy over his return; and instead had got thecold shoulder and a jail. ?The promise and the fulfilment differed sowidely that the effect was stunning; he could not decide whether itwas most tragic or most grotesque. ?He felt much as a man might who haddanced blithely out to enjoy a rainbow, and got struck by lightning.
But gradually his confused and tormenting thoughts settled down intosome sort of order, and then his mind centred itself upon Edith. ?Heturned her conduct over, and examined it in all lights, but he could notmake anything satisfactory out of it. ?Did she know him--or didn't sheknow him? ?It was a perplexing puzzle, and occupied him a long time; buthe ended, finally, with the conviction that she did know him, and hadrepudiated him for interested reasons. ?He wanted to load her name withcurses now; but this name had so long been sacred to him that he foundhe could not bring his tongue to profane it.
Wrapped in prison blankets of a soiled and tattered condition, Hendonand the King passed a troubled night. ?For a bribe the jailer hadfurnished liquor to some of the prisoners; singing of ribald songs,fighting, shouting, and carousing was the natural consequence. ?At last,a while after midnight, a man attacked a woman and nearly killed her bybeating her over the head with his manacles before the jailer couldcome to the rescue. ?The jailer restored peace by giving the man a soundclubbing about the head and shoulders--then the carousing ceased;and after that, all had an opportunity to sleep who did not mind theannoyance of the moanings and groanings of the two wounded people.
During the ensuing week, the days and nights were of a monotonoussameness as to events; men whose faces Hendon remembered more or lessdistinctly, came, by day, to gaze at the 'impostor' and repudiateand insult him; and by night the carousing and brawling went on withsymmetrical regularity. ?However, there was a change of incident atlast. The jailer brought in an old man, and said to him--
"The villain is in this room--cast thy old eyes about and see if thoucanst say which is he."
Hendon glanced up, and experienced a pleasant sensation for the firsttime since he had been in the jail. ?He said to himself, "This is BlakeAndrews, a servant all his life in my father's family--a good honestsoul, with a right heart in his breast. That is, formerly. ?But none aretrue now; all are liars. ?This man will know me--and will deny me, too,like the rest."
The old man gazed around the room, glanced at each face in turn, andfinally said--
"I see none here but paltry knaves, scum o' the streets. ?Which is he?"
The jailer laughed.
"Here," he said; "scan this big animal, and grant me an opinion."
The old man approached, and looked Hendon over, long and earnestly, thenshook his head and said--
"Marry, _this_ is no Hendon--nor ever was!"
"Right! ?Thy old eyes are sound yet. ?An' I were Sir Hugh, I would takethe shabby carle and--"
The jailer finished by lifting himself a-tip-toe with an imaginaryhalter, at the same time making a gurgling noise in his throatsuggestive of suffocation. ?The old man said, vindictively--
"Let him bless God an' he fare no worse. ?An' _I_ had the handling o'the villain he should roast, or I am no true man!"
The jailer laughed a pleasant hyena laugh, and said--
"Give him a piece of thy mind, old man--they all do it. ?Thou'lt find itgood diversion."
Then he sauntered toward his ante-room and disappeared. ?The old mandropped upon his knees and whispered--
"God be thanked, thou'rt come again, my master! ?I believed thou wertdead these seven years, and lo, here thou art alive! ?I knew thee themoment I saw thee; and main hard work it was to keep a stony countenanceand seem to see none here but tuppenny knaves and rubbish o' thestreets. I am old and poor, Sir Miles; but say the word and I will goforth and proclaim the truth though I be strangled for it."
"No," said Hendon; "thou shalt not. ?It would ruin thee, and yet helpbut little in my cause. ?But I thank thee, for thou hast given me backsomewhat of my lost faith in my kind."
The old servant became very valuable to Hendon and the King; forhe dropped in several times a day to 'abuse' the former, and alwayssmuggled in a few delicacies to help out the prison bill of fare; healso furnished the current news. ?Hendon reserved the dainties for theKing; without them his Majesty might not have survived, for he wasnot able to eat the coarse and wretched food provided by the jailer.?Andrews was obliged to confine himself to brief visits, in order toavoid suspicion; but he managed to impart a fair degree of informationeach time--information delivered in a low voice, for Hendon's benefit,and interlarded with insulting epithets delivered in a louder voice forthe benefit of other hearers.
So, little by little, the story of the family came out. ?Arthur hadbeen dead six years. ?This loss, with the absence of news from Hendon,impaired the father's health; he believed he was going to die, and hewished to see Hugh and Edith settled in life before he passed away; butEdith begged hard for delay, hoping for Miles's return; then the lettercame which brought the news of Miles's death; the shock prostrated SirRichard; he believed his end was very near, and he and Hugh insistedupon the marriage; Edith begged for and obtained a month's respite,then another, and finally a third; the marriage then took place bythe death-bed of Sir Richard. ?It had not proved a happy one. ?It waswhispered about the country that shortly after the nuptials the bridefound among her husband's papers several rough and incomplete drafts ofthe fatal letter, and had accused him of precipitating the marriage--andSir Richard's death, too--by a wicked forgery. Tales of cruelty to theLady Edith and the servants were to be heard on all hands; and since thefather's death Sir Hugh had thrown off all soft disguises and becomea pitiless master toward all who in any way depended upon him and hisdomains for bread.
There was a bit of Andrew's gossip which the King listened to with alively interest--
"There is rumour that the King is mad. ?But in charity forbear to say_I_ mentioned it, for 'tis death to speak of it, they say."
His Majesty glared at the old man and said--
"The King is _not_ mad, good man--and thou'lt find it to thy advantageto busy thyself with matters that nearer concern thee than thisseditious prattle."
"What doth the lad mean?" said Andrews, surprised at this brisk assaultfrom such an unexpected quarter. ?Hendon gave him a sign, and he did notpursue his question, but went on with his budget--
"The late King is to be buried at Windsor in a day or two--the 16th ofthe month--and the new King will be crowned at Westminster the 20th."
"Methinks they must needs find him first," muttered his Majesty; thenadded, confidently, "but they will look to that--and so also shall I."
"In the name of--"
But the old man got no further--a warning sign from Hendon checked hisremark. ?He resumed the thread of his gossip--
"Sir Hugh goeth to the coronation--and with grand hopes. ?He confidentlylooketh to come back a peer, for he is high in favour with the LordProtector."
"What Lord Protector?" asked his Majesty.
"His Grace the Duke of Somerset."
"What Duke of Somerset?"
"Marry, there is but one--Seymour, Earl of Hertford."
The King asked sharply--
"Since when is _he_ a duke, and Lord Protector?"
"Since the last day of January."
"And prithee who made him so?"
"Himself and the Great Council--with help of the King."
His Majesty started violently. ?"The _King_!" he cried. ?"_What_ king,good sir?"
"What king, indeed! (God-a-mercy
, what aileth the boy?) ?Sith we havebut one, 'tis not difficult to answer--his most sacred Majesty KingEdward the Sixth--whom God preserve! ?Yea, and a dear and graciouslittle urchin is he, too; and whether he be mad or no--and they say hemendeth daily--his praises are on all men's lips; and all bless him,likewise, and offer prayers that he may be spared to reign long inEngland; for he began humanely with saving the old Duke of Norfolk'slife, and now is he bent on destroying the cruellest of the laws thatharry and oppress the people."
This news struck his Majesty dumb with amazement, and plunged him intoso deep and dismal a reverie that he heard no more of the old man'sgossip. He wondered if the 'little urchin' was the beggar-boy whomhe left dressed in his own garments in the palace. ?It did not seempossible that this could be, for surely his manners and speech wouldbetray him if he pretended to be the Prince of Wales--then he would bedriven out, and search made for the true prince. ?Could it be that theCourt had set up some sprig of the nobility in his place? ?No, for hisuncle would not allow that--he was all-powerful and could and wouldcrush such a movement, of course. ?The boy's musings profited himnothing; the more he tried to unriddle the mystery the more perplexed hebecame, the more his head ached, and the worse he slept. ?Hisimpatience to get to London grew hourly, and his captivity became almostunendurable.
Hendon's arts all failed with the King--he could not be comforted; but acouple of women who were chained near him succeeded better. Under theirgentle ministrations he found peace and learned a degree of patience.?He was very grateful, and came to love them dearly and to delight inthe sweet and soothing influence of their presence. ?He asked them whythey were in prison, and when they said they were Baptists, he smiled,and inquired--
"Is that a crime to be shut up for in a prison? ?Now I grieve, for Ishall lose ye--they will not keep ye long for such a little thing."
They did not answer; and something in their faces made him uneasy. Hesaid, eagerly--
"You do not speak; be good to me, and tell me--there will be no otherpunishment? ?Prithee tell me there is no fear of that."
They tried to change the topic, but his fears were aroused, and hepursued it--
"Will they scourge thee? ?No, no, they would not be so cruel! ?Say theywould not. ?Come, they _will_ not, will they?"
The women betrayed confusion and distress, but there was no avoiding ananswer, so one of them said, in a voice choked with emotion--
"Oh, thou'lt break our hearts, thou gentle spirit!--God will help us tobear our--"
"It is a confession!" the King broke in. ?"Then they _will_ scourgethee, the stony-hearted wretches! ?But oh, thou must not weep, I cannotbear it. ?Keep up thy courage--I shall come to my own in time to savethee from this bitter thing, and I will do it!"
When the King awoke in the morning, the women were gone.
"They are saved!" he said, joyfully; then added, despondently, "but woeis me!--for they were my comforters."
Each of them had left a shred of ribbon pinned to his clothing, in tokenof remembrance. ?He said he would keep these things always; and thatsoon he would seek out these dear good friends of his and take themunder his protection.
Just then the jailer came in with some subordinates, and commanded thatthe prisoners be conducted to the jail-yard. ?The King was overjoyed--itwould be a blessed thing to see the blue sky and breathe the fresh aironce more. ?He fretted and chafed at the slowness of the officers, buthis turn came at last, and he was released from his staple and orderedto follow the other prisoners with Hendon.
The court or quadrangle was stone-paved, and open to the sky. ?Theprisoners entered it through a massive archway of masonry, and wereplaced in file, standing, with their backs against the wall. A ropewas stretched in front of them, and they were also guarded by theirofficers. It was a chill and lowering morning, and a light snow whichhad fallen during the night whitened the great empty space and addedto the general dismalness of its aspect. Now and then a wintry windshivered through the place and sent the snow eddying hither and thither.
In the centre of the court stood two women, chained to posts. ?A glanceshowed the King that these were his good friends. ?He shuddered, andsaid to himself, "Alack, they are not gone free, as I had thought. ?Tothink that such as these should know the lash!--in England! ?Ay, there'sthe shame of it--not in Heathennesse, Christian England! ?They will bescourged; and I, whom they have comforted and kindly entreated, mustlook on and see the great wrong done; it is strange, so strange, thatI, the very source of power in this broad realm, am helpless to protectthem. But let these miscreants look well to themselves, for there is aday coming when I will require of them a heavy reckoning for this work.?For every blow they strike now, they shall feel a hundred then."
A great gate swung open, and a crowd of citizens poured in. ?Theyflocked around the two women, and hid them from the King's view. Aclergyman entered and passed through the crowd, and he also was hidden.?The King now heard talking, back and forth, as if questions were beingasked and answered, but he could not make out what was said. ?Next therewas a deal of bustle and preparation, and much passing and repassing ofofficials through that part of the crowd that stood on the further sideof the women; and whilst this proceeded a deep hush gradually fell uponthe people.
Now, by command, the masses parted and fell aside, and the King saw aspectacle that froze the marrow in his bones. ?Faggots had been piledabout the two women, and a kneeling man was lighting them!
The women bowed their heads, and covered their faces with their hands;the yellow flames began to climb upward among the snapping and cracklingfaggots, and wreaths of blue smoke to stream away on the wind; theclergyman lifted his hands and began a prayer--just then two young girlscame flying through the great gate, uttering piercing screams, and threwthemselves upon the women at the stake. ?Instantly they were torn awayby the officers, and one of them was kept in a tight grip, but the otherbroke loose, saying she would die with her mother; and before she couldbe stopped she had flung her arms about her mother's neck again. ?Shewas torn away once more, and with her gown on fire. ?Two or three menheld her, and the burning portion of her gown was snatched off andthrown flaming aside, she struggling all the while to free herself, andsaying she would be alone in the world, now; and begging to be allowedto die with her mother. ?Both the girls screamed continually, and foughtfor freedom; but suddenly this tumult was drowned under a volley ofheart-piercing shrieks of mortal agony--the King glanced from thefrantic girls to the stake, then turned away and leaned his ashen faceagainst the wall, and looked no more. ?He said, "That which I have seen,in that one little moment, will never go out from my memory, but willabide there; and I shall see it all the days, and dream of it all thenights, till I die. ?Would God I had been blind!"
Hendon was watching the King. ?He said to himself, with satisfaction,"His disorder mendeth; he hath changed, and groweth gentler. ?If he hadfollowed his wont, he would have stormed at these varlets, and said hewas King, and commanded that the women be turned loose unscathed. ?Soonhis delusion will pass away and be forgotten, and his poor mind will bewhole again. ?God speed the day!"
That same day several prisoners were brought in to remain over night,who were being conveyed, under guard, to various places in the kingdom,to undergo punishment for crimes committed. ?The King conversed withthese--he had made it a point, from the beginning, to instruct himselffor the kingly office by questioning prisoners whenever the opportunityoffered--and the tale of their woes wrung his heart. ?One of them wasa poor half-witted woman who had stolen a yard or two of cloth from aweaver--she was to be hanged for it. ?Another was a man who had beenaccused of stealing a horse; he said the proof had failed, and he hadimagined that he was safe from the halter; but no--he was hardly freebefore he was arraigned for killing a deer in the King's park; this wasproved against him, and now he was on his way to the gallows. ?There wasa tradesman's apprentice whose case particularly distressed the King;this youth said he found a hawk, one evening, that had escaped from itsowner, and he took it home with him,
imagining himself entitled to it;but the court convicted him of stealing it, and sentenced him to death.
The King was furious over these inhumanities, and wanted Hendon to breakjail and fly with him to Westminster, so that he could mount his throneand hold out his sceptre in mercy over these unfortunate people andsave their lives. ?"Poor child," sighed Hendon, "these woeful taleshave brought his malady upon him again; alack, but for this evil hap, hewould have been well in a little time."
Among these prisoners was an old lawyer--a man with a strong face and adauntless mien. ?Three years past, he had written a pamphlet against theLord Chancellor, accusing him of injustice, and had been punished forit by the loss of his ears in the pillory, and degradation from thebar, and in addition had been fined 3,000 pounds and sentenced toimprisonment for life. ?Lately he had repeated his offence; and inconsequence was now under sentence to lose _what remained of his ears_,pay a fine of 5,000 pounds, be branded on both cheeks, and remain inprison for life.
"These be honourable scars," he said, and turned back his grey hair andshowed the mutilated stubs of what had once been his ears.
The King's eye burned with passion. ?He said--
"None believe in me--neither wilt thou. ?But no matter--within thecompass of a month thou shalt be free; and more, the laws that havedishonoured thee, and shamed the English name, shall be swept from thestatute books. ?The world is made wrong; kings should go to school totheir own laws, at times, and so learn mercy." {1}
