for thy eightpence!”
“Stands the wind in that quarter? Thou wast under oath, and so
swore falsely when thou saidst the value was but eightpence. Come
straightway back with me before his worship, and answer for the
crime!–and then the lad will hang.”
“There, there, dear heart, say no more, I am content. Give me the
eightpence, and hold thy peace about the matter.”
The woman went off crying: Hendon slipped back into the court
room, and the constable presently followed, after hiding his prize
in some convenient place. The justice wrote a while longer, then
read the King a wise and kindly lecture, and sentenced him to a
short imprisonment in the common jail, to be followed by a public
flogging. The astounded King opened his mouth, and was probably
going to order the good judge to be beheaded on the spot; but he
caught a warning sign from Hendon, and succeeded in closing his
mouth again before he lost anything out of it. Hendon took him by
the hand, now, made reverence to the justice, and the two departed
in the wake of the constable toward the jail. The moment the
street was reached, the inflamed monarch halted, snatched away his
hand, and exclaimed–
“Idiot, dost imagine I will enter a common jail ALIVE?”
Hendon bent down and said, somewhat sharply–
“WILL you trust in me? Peace! and forbear to worsen our chances
with dangerous speech. What God wills, will happen; thou canst
not hurry it, thou canst not alter it; therefore wait, and be
patient–’twill be time enow to rail or rejoice when what is to
happen has happened.” {1}
Chapter XXIV. The escape.
The short winter day was nearly ended. The streets were deserted,
save for a few random stragglers, and these hurried straight
along, with the intent look of people who were only anxious to
accomplish their errands as quickly as possible, and then snugly
house themselves from the rising wind and the gathering twilight.
They looked neither to the right nor to the left; they paid no
attention to our party, they did not even seem to see them.
Edward the Sixth wondered if the spectacle of a king on his way to
jail had ever encountered such marvellous indifference before.
By-and-by the constable arrived at a deserted market-square, and
proceeded to cross it. When he had reached the middle of it,
Hendon laid his hand upon his arm, and said in a low voice–
“Bide a moment, good sir, there is none in hearing, and I would
say a word to thee.”
“My duty forbids it, sir; prithee hinder me not, the night comes
on.”
“Stay, nevertheless, for the matter concerns thee nearly. Turn
thy back a moment and seem not to see: LET THIS POOR LAD ESCAPE.”
“This to me, sir! I arrest thee in–”
“Nay, be not too hasty. See thou be careful and commit no foolish
error”–then he shut his voice down to a whisper, and said in the
man’s ear–“the pig thou hast purchased for eightpence may cost
thee thy neck, man!”
The poor constable, taken by surprise, was speechless, at first,
then found his tongue and fell to blustering and threatening; but
Hendon was tranquil, and waited with patience till his breath was
spent; then said–
“I have a liking to thee, friend, and would not willingly see thee
come to harm. Observe, I heard it all–every word. I will prove
it to thee.” Then he repeated the conversation which the officer
and the woman had had together in the hall, word for word, and
ended with–
“There–have I set it forth correctly? Should not I be able to
set it forth correctly before the judge, if occasion required?”
The man was dumb with fear and distress, for a moment; then he
rallied, and said with forced lightness–
“‘Tis making a mighty matter, indeed, out of a jest; I but plagued
the woman for mine amusement.”
“Kept you the woman’s pig for amusement?”
The man answered sharply–
“Nought else, good sir–I tell thee ’twas but a jest.”
“I do begin to believe thee,” said Hendon, with a perplexing
mixture of mockery and half-conviction in his tone; “but tarry
thou here a moment whilst I run and ask his worship–for nathless,