The Little Lame Prince and His Travelling Cloak

by Dinah Maria Mulock Craik

  CHAPTER IX.

  When Prince Dolor sat up in bed, trying to remember where he was,whither he had been, and what he had seen the day before, he perceivedthat his room was empty.

  Generally, his nurse rather worried him by breaking his slumbers,coming in and "setting things to rights," as she called it. Now, thedust lay thick upon chairs and tables; there was no harsh voice heardto scold him for not getting up immediately--which, I am sorry to say,this boy did not always do. For he so enjoyed lying still, and thinkinglazily, about everything or nothing, that, if he had not tried hardagainst it, he would certainly have become like those celebrated

  "Two little men Who lay in their bed till the clock struck ten."

  It was striking ten now, and still no nurse was to be seen. He wasrather relieved at first, for he felt so tired; and besides when hestretched out his arm, he found to his dismay that he had gone to bedin his clothes.

  Very uncomfortable he felt, of course; and just a little frightened.Especially when he began to call and call again, but nobody answered.Often he used to think how nice it would be to get rid of his nurse andlive in this tower all by himself--like a sort of monarch, able to doeverything he liked, and leave undone all that he did not want to do;but now that this seemed really to have happened, he did not like it atall.

  "Nurse--dear nurse--please come back!" he called out. "Come back, and Iwill be the best boy in all the land."

  And when she did not come back, and nothing but silence answered hislamentable call, he very nearly began to cry.

  "This won't do," he said at last, dashing the tears from his eyes."It's just like a baby, and I'm a big boy--shall be a man some day.What has happened, I wonder? I'll go and see."

  He sprang out of bed--not to his feet, alas! but to his poor littleweak knees, and crawled on them from room to room. All the fourchambers were deserted--not forlorn or untidy, for everything seemedto have been done for his comfort--the breakfast and dinner-thingswere laid, the food spread in order. He might live "like a prince,"as the proverb is, for several days. But the place was entirelyforsaken--there was evidently not a creature but himself in thesolitary tower.

  A great fear came upon the poor boy. Lonely as his life had been,he had never known what it was to be absolutely alone. A kind ofdespair seized him--no violent anger or terror, but a sort of patientdesolation.

  "What in the world am I to do?" thought he, and sat down in the middleof the floor, half inclined to believe that it would be better to giveup entirely, lay himself down and die.

  This feeling, however, did not last long, for he was young and strong,and I said before, by nature a very courageous boy. There came into hishead, somehow or other, a proverb that his nurse had taught him--thepeople of Nomansland were very fond of proverbs:--

  "For every evil under the sun There is a remedy, or there's none; If there is one, try to find it-- If there isn't, never mind it."

  "I wonder--is there a remedy now, and could I find it?" cried thePrince, jumping up and looking out of the window.

  No help there. He only saw the broad bleak sunshiny plain--that is, atfirst. But, by-and-by, in the circle of mud that surrounded the baseof the tower he perceived distinctly the marks of a horse's feet, andjust in the spot where the deaf-mute was accustomed to tie up his greatblack charger, while he himself ascended, there lay the remains of abundle of hay and a feed of corn.

  "Yes, that's it. He has come and gone, taking nurse away with him. Poornurse! how glad she would be to go!"

  That was Prince Dolor's first thought. His second--wasn't itnatural?--was a passionate indignation at her cruelty--at the crueltyof all the world towards him--a poor little helpless boy. Then hedetermined--forsaken as he was--to try and hold on to the last, and notto die as long as he could possibly help it.

  Anyhow, it would be easier to die here than out in the world, among theterrible doings which he had just beheld. From the midst of which, itsuddenly struck him, the deaf-mute had come--contrived somehow to makethe nurse understand that the king was dead, and she need have no fearin going back to the capital, where there was a grand revolution, andeverything turned upside down. So, of course she had gone.

  "I hope she'll enjoy it, miserable woman--if they don't cut off herhead too."

  And then a kind of remorse smote him for feeling so bitterly towardsher, after all the years she had taken care of him--grudgingly,perhaps, and coldly; still, she had taken care of him, and that evento the last: for, as I have said, all his four rooms were as tidy aspossible, and his meals laid out, that he might have no more troublethan could be helped.

  "Possibly she did not mean to be cruel. I won't judge her," said he.And afterwards he was very glad that he had so determined.

  For the second time he tried to dress himself, and then to doeverything he could for himself--even to sweeping up the hearth andputting on more coals. "It's a funny thing for a prince to have to do,"said he laughing. "But my godmother once said princes need never minddoing anything."

  And then he thought a little of his godmother. Not of summoning her,or asking her to help him--she had evidently left him to help himself,and he was determined to try his best to do it, being a very proud andindependent boy--but he remembered her, tenderly and regretfully, asif even she had been a little hard upon him--poor, forlorn boy that hewas! But he seemed to have seen and learned so much within the last fewdays, that he scarcely felt like a boy, but a man--until he went to bedat night.

  When I was a child, I used often to think how nice it would be to livein a little house all by my own self--a house built high up in a tree,or far away in a forest, or half way up a hillside,--so deliciouslyalone and independent. Not a lesson to learn--but no! I always likedlearning my lessons. Anyhow, to choose the lessons I liked best, tohave as many books to read and dolls to play with as ever I wanted:above all, to be free and at rest, with nobody to teaze, or trouble, orscold me, would be charming. For I was a lonely little thing, who likedquietness--as many children do; which other children, and sometimesgrown-up people even, cannot always understand. And so I can understandPrince Dolor.

  After his first despair, he was not merely comfortable, but actuallyhappy in his solitude, doing everything for himself, and enjoyingeverything by himself--until bedtime.

  Then, he did not like it at all. No more, I suppose, than otherchildren would have liked my imaginary house in a tree, when they hadhad sufficient of their own company.

  But the prince had to bear it--and he did bear it--like a prince: forfully five days. All that time he got up in the morning and went tobed at night, without having spoken to a creature, or, indeed, hearda single sound. For even his little lark was silent: and as for histravelling-cloak, either he never thought about it, or else it had beenspirited away--for he made no use of it, nor attempted to do so.

  A very strange existence it was, those five lonely days. He neverentirely forgot it. It threw him back upon himself, and intohimself--in a way that all of us have to learn when we grow up, and arethe better for it--but it is somewhat hard learning.

  On the sixth day, Prince Dolor had a strange composure in his look, buthe was very grave, and thin, and white. He had nearly come to the endof his provisions--and what was to happen next? Get out of the tower hecould not; the ladder the deaf-mute used was always carried away again;and if it had not been, how could the poor boy have used it? And evenif he slung or flung himself down, and by miraculous chance came aliveto the foot of the tower how could he run away?

  Fate had been very hard to him, or so it seemed.

  He made up his mind to die. Not that he wished to die; on the contrary,there was a great deal that he wished to live to do; but if he mustdie, he must. Dying did not seem so very dreadful; not even to liequiet like his uncle, whom he had entirely forgiven now, and neither bemiserable nor naughty any more, and escape all those horrible thingsthat he had seen goi
ng on outside the palace, in that awful place whichwas called "the world."

  "It's a great deal nicer here," said the poor little Prince, andcollected all his pretty things round him: his favourite pictures,which he thought he should like to have near him when he died; hisbooks and toys--no, he had ceased to care for toys now; he only likedthem because he had done so as a child. And there he sat very calm andpatient, like a king in his castle, waiting for the end.

  "Still, I wish I had done something first--something worth doing, thatsomebody might remember me by," thought he. "Suppose I had grown a man,and had had work to do, and people to care for, and was so useful andbusy that they liked me, and perhaps even forgot I was lame. Then, itwould have been nice to live, I think."

  A tear came into the little fellow's eyes, and he listened intentlythrough the dead silence for some hopeful sound.

  Was there one--was it his little lark, whom he had almost forgotten?No, nothing half so sweet. But it really was something--something whichcame nearer and nearer, so that there was no mistaking it. It was thesound of a trumpet, one of the great silver trumpets so admired inNomansland. Not pleasant music, but very bold, grand, and inspiring.

  As he listened to it the boy seemed to recall many things which hadslipped his memory for years, and to nerve himself for whatever mightbe going to happen.

  What had happened was this.

  The poor condemned woman had not been such a wicked woman after all.Perhaps her courage was not wholly disinterested, but she had done avery heroic thing. As soon as she heard of the death and burial ofthe King, and of the changes that were taking place in the country, adaring idea came into her head--to set upon the throne of Nomanslandits rightful heir. Thereupon she persuaded the deaf-mute to take heraway with him, and they galloped like the wind from city to city,spreading everywhere the news that Prince Dolor's death and burialhad been an invention concocted by his wicked uncle--that he was aliveand well, and the noblest young Prince that ever was born.

  It was a bold stroke, but it succeeded. The country, weary, perhaps,of the late King's harsh rule, and yet glad to save itself from thehorrors of the last few days, and the still further horrors of no ruleat all, and having no particular interest in the other young princes,jumped at the idea of this Prince, who was the son of their late goodKing and the beloved Queen Dolorez.

  "Hurrah for Prince Dolor! Let Prince Dolor be our sovereign!" rangfrom end to end of the kingdom. Everybody tried to remember what adear baby he once was--how like his mother, who had been so sweet andkind, and his father, the finest looking king that ever reigned. Nobodyremembered his lameness--or, if they did, they passed it over as amatter of no consequence. They were determined to have him to reignover them, boy as he was--perhaps just because he was a boy, since inthat case the great nobles thought they should be able to do as theyliked with the country.

  Accordingly, with a fickleness not confined to the people ofNomansland, no sooner was the late King laid in his grave than theypronounced him to have been a usurper; turned all his family out ofthe palace, and left it empty for the reception of the new sovereign,whom they went to fetch with great rejoicing; a select body of lords,gentlemen, and soldiers, travelling night and day in solemn processionthrough the country, until they reached Hopeless Tower.

  There they found the Prince, sitting calmly on the floor--deadly paleindeed, for he expected a quite different end from this, and wasresolved if he had to die, to die courageously, like a prince and aking.

  But when they hailed him as prince and king, and explained to him howmatters stood, and went down on their knees before him, offering thecrown (on a velvet cushion, with four golden tassels, each nearly asbig as his head)--small though he was and lame, which lameness thecourtiers pretended not to notice--there came such a glow into hisface, such a dignity into his demeanour, that he became beautiful,king-like.

  "Yes," he said, "if you desire it, I will be your king. And I will domy best to make my people happy."

  Then there arose, from inside and outside the tower, such a shout asnever yet was heard across the lonely plain.

  Prince Dolor shrank a little from the deafening sound. "How shall I beable to rule all this great people? You forget, my lords, that I amonly a little boy still."

  "Not so very little," was the respectful answer. "We have searchedin the records, and found that your Royal Highness--your Majesty, Imean--is precisely fifteen years old."

  "Am I?" said Prince Dolor; and his first thought was a thoroughlychildish pleasure that he should now have a birthday, with a wholenation to keep it. Then he remembered that his childish days weredone. He was a monarch now. Even his nurse, to whom, the moment he sawher, he had held out his hand, kissed it reverently, and called himceremoniously "his Majesty the King."

  "A king must be always a king, I suppose," said he half sadly, when,the ceremonies over, he had been left to himself for just ten minutes,to put off his boy's clothes, and be re-attired in magnificent robes,before he was conveyed away from his tower to the Royal Palace.

  He could take nothing with him; indeed, he soon saw that, howeverpolitely they spoke, they would not allow him to take anything. Ifhe was to be their king, he must give up his old life for ever. So helooked with tender farewell on his old books, old toys, the furniturehe knew so well, and the familiar plain in all its levelness, ugly yetpleasant, simply because it was familiar.

  "It will be a new life in a new world," said he to himself; "but I'llremember the old things still. And, oh! if before I go, I could butonce see my dear old godmother."

  While he spoke, he had laid himself down on the bed for a minute ortwo, rather tired with his grandeur, and confused by the noise ofthe trumpets which kept playing incessantly down below. He gazed,half sadly, up to the skylight, whence there came pouring a stream ofsun-rays, with innumerable motes floating there, like a bridge thrownbetween heaven and earth. Sliding down it, as if she had been made ofair, came the little old woman in grey.

  "_There came pouring a stream of sun-rays ... like abridge ... Sliding down it, as if she had been made of air, came thelittle old woman in grey._"]

  So beautiful looked she--old as she was--that Prince Dolor was at firstquite startled by the apparition. Then he held out his arms in eagerdelight.

  "O, godmother, you have not forsaken me!"

  "Not at all, my son. You may not have seen me, but I have seen you,many a time."

  "How?"

  "O, never mind. I can turn into anything I please, you know. And Ihave been a bear-skin rug, and a crystal goblet--and sometimes I havechanged from inanimate to animate nature, put on feathers, and mademyself very comfortable as a bird."

  "Ha!" laughed the Prince, a new light breaking in upon him, as hecaught the infection of her tone, lively and mischievous. "Ha, ha! alark, for instance?"

  "Or a magpie," answered she, with a capital imitation of MistressMag's croaky voice. "Do you suppose I am always sentimental and neverfunny?--If anything makes you happy, gay or grave, don't you think itis more than likely to come through your old godmother?"

  "I believe that," said the boy tenderly, holding out his arms. Theyclasped one another in a close embrace.

  Suddenly Prince Dolor looked very anxious. "You will not leave me nowthat I am a king? Otherwise, I had rather not be a king at all. Promisenever to forsake me?"

  The little old woman laughed gaily. "Forsake you? that is impossible.But it is just possible you may forsake me. Not probable though. Yourmother never did, and she was a queen. The sweetest queen in all theworld was the lady Dolorez."

  "Tell me about her," said the boy eagerly. "As I get older I think Ican understand more. Do tell me."

  "Not now. You couldn't hear me for the trumpets and the shouting. Butwhen you are come to the palace, ask for a long-closed upper room,which looks out upon the Beautiful Mountains; open it and take it foryour own. Whenever you go there, you will always find me, and we willtalk together about all sorts of things."

  "And about my mother?"


  The little old woman nodded--and kept nodding and smiling to herselfmany times, as the boy repeated over and over again the sweet words hehad never known or understood--"my mother--my mother."

  "Now I must go," said she, as the trumpets blared louder and louder,and the shouts of the people showed that they would not endure anydelay. "Good-bye, Good-bye! Open the window and out I fly."

  Prince Dolor repeated gaily the musical rhyme--but all the while triedto hold his godmother fast.

  Vain, vain!--for the moment that a knocking was heard at his door, thesun went behind a cloud, the bright stream of dancing motes vanished,and the little old woman with them--he knew not where.

  So Prince Dolor quitted his tower--which he had entered so mournfullyand ignominiously, as a little helpless baby carried in the deaf-mute'sarms--quitted it as the great King of Nomansland.

  "_So Prince Dolor quitted his tower ... quitted it asthe great King of Nomansland._" _Page 111._]

  The only thing he took away with him was something so insignificant,that none of the lords, gentlemen, and soldiers who escorted him withsuch triumphant splendour, could possibly notice it--a tiny bundle,which he had found lying on the floor just where the bridge of sunbeamshad rested. At once he had pounced upon it, and thrust it secretly intohis bosom, where it dwindled into such small proportions, that it mighthave been taken for a mere chest-comforter--a bit of flannel--or an oldpocket-handkerchief!

  It was his travelling-cloak.