bring that morning back again, every hap just as it happened. We
talked–I told you of my sisters, Nan and Bet–ah, yes, you
remember that; and about mine old grandam–and the rough games of
the lads of Offal Court–yes, you remember these things also; very
well, follow me still, you shall recall everything. You gave me
food and drink, and did with princely courtesy send away the
servants, so that my low breeding might not shame me before them–
ah, yes, this also you remember.”
As Tom checked off his details, and the other boy nodded his head
in recognition of them, the great audience and the officials
stared in puzzled wonderment; the tale sounded like true history,
yet how could this impossible conjunction between a prince and a
beggar-boy have come about? Never was a company of people so
perplexed, so interested, and so stupefied, before.
“For a jest, my prince, we did exchange garments. Then we stood
before a mirror; and so alike were we that both said it seemed as
if there had been no change made–yes, you remember that. Then
you noticed that the soldier had hurt my hand–look! here it is, I
cannot yet even write with it, the fingers are so stiff. At this
your Highness sprang up, vowing vengeance upon that soldier, and
ran towards the door–you passed a table–that thing you call the
Seal lay on that table–you snatched it up and looked eagerly
about, as if for a place to hide it–your eye caught sight of–”
“There, ’tis sufficient!–and the good God be thanked!” exclaimed
the ragged claimant, in a mighty excitement. “Go, my good St.
John–in an arm-piece of the Milanese armour that hangs on the
wall, thou’lt find the Seal!”
“Right, my King! right!” cried Tom Canty; “NOW the sceptre of
England is thine own; and it were better for him that would
dispute it that he had been born dumb! Go, my Lord St. John, give
thy feet wings!”
The whole assemblage was on its feet now, and well-nigh out of its
mind with uneasiness, apprehension, and consuming excitement. On
the floor and on the platform a deafening buzz of frantic
conversation burst forth, and for some time nobody knew anything
or heard anything or was interested in anything but what his
neighbour was shouting into his ear, or he was shouting into his
neighbour’s ear. Time–nobody knew how much of it–swept by
unheeded and unnoted. At last a sudden hush fell upon the house,
and in the same moment St. John appeared upon the platform, and
held the Great Seal aloft in his hand. Then such a shout went up-
–
“Long live the true King!”
For five minutes the air quaked with shouts and the crash of
musical instruments, and was white with a storm of waving
handkerchiefs; and through it all a ragged lad, the most
conspicuous figure in England, stood, flushed and happy and proud,
in the centre of the spacious platform, with the great vassals of
the kingdom kneeling around him.
Then all rose, and Tom Canty cried out–
“Now, O my King, take these regal garments back, and give poor
Tom, thy servant, his shreds and remnants again.”
The Lord Protector spoke up–
“Let the small varlet be stripped and flung into the Tower.”
But the new King, the true King, said–
“I will not have it so. But for him I had not got my crown again-
-none shall lay a hand upon him to harm him. And as for thee, my
good uncle, my Lord Protector, this conduct of thine is not
grateful toward this poor lad, for I hear he hath made thee a
duke”–the Protector blushed–“yet he was not a king; wherefore
what is thy fine title worth now? To-morrow you shall sue to me,
THROUGH HIM, for its confirmation, else no duke, but a simple
earl, shalt thou remain.”
Under this rebuke, his Grace the Duke of Somerset retired a little
from the front for the moment. The King turned to Tom, and said
kindly–“My poor boy, how was it that you could remember where I
hid the Seal when I could not remember it myself?”
“Ah, my King, that was easy, since I used it divers days.”