forgetting! They said one must not seem to observe that aught is
wrong with him.”
“‘Tis strange how my memory doth wanton with me these days,” said
Tom. “But mind it not–I mend apace–a little clue doth often
serve to bring me back again the things and names which had
escaped me. (And not they, only, forsooth, but e’en such as I
ne’er heard before–as this lad shall see.) Give thy business
speech.”
“‘Tis matter of small weight, my liege, yet will I touch upon it,
an’ it please your Grace. Two days gone by, when your Majesty
faulted thrice in your Greek–in the morning lessons,–dost
remember it?”
“Y-e-s–methinks I do. (It is not much of a lie–an’ I had
meddled with the Greek at all, I had not faulted simply thrice,
but forty times.) Yes, I do recall it, now–go on.”
“The master, being wroth with what he termed such slovenly and
doltish work, did promise that he would soundly whip me for it–
and–”
“Whip THEE!” said Tom, astonished out of his presence of mind.
“Why should he whip THEE for faults of mine?”
“Ah, your Grace forgetteth again. He always scourgeth me when
thou dost fail in thy lessons.”
“True, true–I had forgot. Thou teachest me in private–then if I
fail, he argueth that thy office was lamely done, and–”
“Oh, my liege, what words are these? I, the humblest of thy
servants, presume to teach THEE?”
“Then where is thy blame? What riddle is this? Am I in truth
gone mad, or is it thou? Explain–speak out.”
“But, good your Majesty, there’s nought that needeth simplifying.-
-None may visit the sacred person of the Prince of Wales with
blows; wherefore, when he faulteth, ’tis I that take them; and
meet it is and right, for that it is mine office and my
livelihood.” {1}
Tom stared at the tranquil boy, observing to himself, “Lo, it is a
wonderful thing,–a most strange and curious trade; I marvel they
have not hired a boy to take my combings and my dressings for me–
would heaven they would!–an’ they will do this thing, I will take
my lashings in mine own person, giving God thanks for the change.”
Then he said aloud–
“And hast thou been beaten, poor friend, according to the
promise?”
“No, good your Majesty, my punishment was appointed for this day,
and peradventure it may be annulled, as unbefitting the season of
mourning that is come upon us; I know not, and so have made bold
to come hither and remind your Grace about your gracious promise
to intercede in my behalf–”
“With the master? To save thee thy whipping?”
“Ah, thou dost remember!”
“My memory mendeth, thou seest. Set thy mind at ease–thy back
shall go unscathed–I will see to it.”
“Oh, thanks, my good lord!” cried the boy, dropping upon his knee
again. “Mayhap I have ventured far enow; and yet–”
Seeing Master Humphrey hesitate, Tom encouraged him to go on,
saying he was “in the granting mood.”
“Then will I speak it out, for it lieth near my heart. Sith thou
art no more Prince of Wales but King, thou canst order matters as
thou wilt, with none to say thee nay; wherefore it is not in
reason that thou wilt longer vex thyself with dreary studies, but
wilt burn thy books and turn thy mind to things less irksome.
Then am I ruined, and mine orphan sisters with me!”
“Ruined? Prithee how?”
“My back is my bread, O my gracious liege! if it go idle, I
starve. An’ thou cease from study mine office is gone thou’lt
need no whipping-boy. Do not turn me away!”
Tom was touched with this pathetic distress. He said, with a
right royal burst of generosity–
“Discomfort thyself no further, lad. Thine office shall be
permanent in thee and thy line for ever.” Then he struck the boy
a light blow on the shoulder with the flat of his sword,
exclaiming, “Rise, Humphrey Marlow, Hereditary Grand Whipping-Boy
to the Royal House of England! Banish sorrow–I will betake me to
my books again, and study so ill that they must in justice treble
thy wage, so mightily shall the business of thine office be