บทที่ บทที่ 6 · Tom receives instructions.

. Tom receives instructions.

Tom was conducted to the principal apartment of a noble suite, and made

to sit down--a thing which he was loth to do, since there were elderly

men and men of high degree about him.  He begged them to be seated

also, but they only bowed their thanks or murmured them, and remained

standing. He would have insisted, but his ‘uncle’ the Earl of Hertford

whispered in his ear--

“Prithee, insist not, my lord; it is not meet that they sit in thy

presence.”

The Lord St. John was announced, and after making obeisance to Tom, he

said--

“I come upon the King’s errand, concerning a matter which requireth

privacy.  Will it please your royal highness to dismiss all that attend

you here, save my lord the Earl of Hertford?”

Observing that Tom did not seem to know how to proceed, Hertford

whispered him to make a sign with his hand, and not trouble himself to

speak unless he chose.  When the waiting gentlemen had retired, Lord St.

John said--

“His majesty commandeth, that for due and weighty reasons of state, the

prince’s grace shall hide his infirmity in all ways that be within his

power, till it be passed and he be as he was before.  To wit, that he

shall deny to none that he is the true prince, and heir to England’s

greatness; that he shall uphold his princely dignity, and shall receive,

without word or sign of protest, that reverence and observance which

unto it do appertain of right and ancient usage; that he shall cease to

speak to any of that lowly birth and life his malady hath conjured

out of the unwholesome imaginings of o’er-wrought fancy; that he shall

strive with diligence to bring unto his memory again those faces which

he was wont to know--and where he faileth he shall hold his peace,

neither betraying by semblance of surprise or other sign that he hath

forgot; that upon occasions of state, whensoever any matter shall

perplex him as to the thing he should do or the utterance he should

make, he shall show nought of unrest to the curious that look on, but

take advice in that matter of the Lord Hertford, or my humble self,

which are commanded of the King to be upon this service and close at

call, till this commandment be dissolved. Thus saith the King’s majesty,

who sendeth greeting to your royal highness, and prayeth that God will

of His mercy quickly heal you and have you now and ever in His holy

keeping.”

The Lord St. John made reverence and stood aside.  Tom replied

resignedly--

“The King hath said it.  None may palter with the King’s command, or fit

it to his ease, where it doth chafe, with deft evasions. The King shall

be obeyed.”

Lord Hertford said--

“Touching the King’s majesty’s ordainment concerning books and such like

serious matters, it may peradventure please your highness to ease your

time with lightsome entertainment, lest you go wearied to the banquet

and suffer harm thereby.”

Tom’s face showed inquiring surprise; and a blush followed when he saw

Lord St. John’s eyes bent sorrowfully upon him.  His lordship said--

“Thy memory still wrongeth thee, and thou hast shown surprise--but

suffer it not to trouble thee, for ’tis a matter that will not bide,

but depart with thy mending malady.  My Lord of Hertford speaketh of

the city’s banquet which the King’s majesty did promise, some two months

flown, your highness should attend.  Thou recallest it now?”

“It grieves me to confess it had indeed escaped me,” said Tom, in a

hesitating voice; and blushed again.

At this moment the Lady Elizabeth and the Lady Jane Grey were announced.

The two lords exchanged significant glances, and Hertford stepped

quickly toward the door.  As the young girls passed him, he said in a

low voice--

“I pray ye, ladies, seem not to observe his humours, nor show surprise

when his memory doth lapse--it will grieve you to note how it doth stick

at every trifle.”

Meantime Lord St. John was saying in Tom’s ear--

“Please you, sir, keep diligently in mind his majesty’s desire. Remember

all thou canst--_seem_ to remember all else.  Let them not perceive that

thou art much changed from thy wont, for thou knowest how tenderly thy

old play-fellows bear thee in their hearts and how ’twould grieve them.

Art willing, sir, that I remain?--and thine uncle?”

Tom signified assent with a gesture and a murmured word, for he was

already learning, and in his simple heart was resolved to acquit himself

as best he might, according to the King’s command.

In spite of every precaution, the conversation among the young people

became a little embarrassing at times.  More than once, in truth,

Tom was near to breaking down and confessing himself unequal to his

tremendous part; but the tact of the Princess Elizabeth saved him, or a

word from one or the other of the vigilant lords, thrown in apparently

by chance, had the same happy effect.  Once the little Lady Jane turned

to Tom and dismayed him with this question,--

“Hast paid thy duty to the Queen’s majesty to-day, my lord?”

Tom hesitated, looked distressed, and was about to stammer out something

at hazard, when Lord St. John took the word and answered for him

with the easy grace of a courtier accustomed to encounter delicate

difficulties and to be ready for them--

“He hath indeed, madam, and she did greatly hearten him, as touching his

majesty’s condition; is it not so, your highness?”

Tom mumbled something that stood for assent, but felt that he was

getting upon dangerous ground.  Somewhat later it was mentioned that

Tom was to study no more at present, whereupon her little ladyship

exclaimed--

“‘Tis a pity, ’tis a pity!  Thou wert proceeding bravely.  But bide thy

time in patience:  it will not be for long.  Thou’lt yet be graced

with learning like thy father, and make thy tongue master of as many

languages as his, good my prince.”

“My father!” cried Tom, off his guard for the moment. “I trow he cannot

speak his own so that any but the swine that kennel in the styes may

tell his meaning; and as for learning of any sort soever--”

He looked up and encountered a solemn warning in my Lord St. John’s

eyes.

He stopped, blushed, then continued low and sadly: “Ah, my malady

persecuteth me again, and my mind wandereth.  I meant the King’s grace

no irreverence.”

“We know it, sir,” said the Princess Elizabeth, taking her ‘brother’s’

hand between her two palms, respectfully but caressingly; “trouble not

thyself as to that.  The fault is none of thine, but thy distemper’s.”

“Thou’rt a gentle comforter, sweet lady,” said Tom, gratefully, “and my

heart moveth me to thank thee for’t, an’ I may be so bold.”

Once the giddy little Lady Jane fired a simple Greek phrase at Tom.

The Princess Elizabeth’s quick eye saw by the serene blankness of the

target’s front that the shaft was overshot; so she tranquilly delivered

a return volley of sounding Greek on Tom’s behalf, and then straightway

changed the talk to other matters.

Time wore on pleasantly, and likewise smoothly, on the whole. Snags and

sandbars grew less and less frequent, and Tom grew more and more at

his ease, seeing that all were so lovingly bent upon helping him and

overlooking his mistakes.  When it came out that the little ladies were

to accompany him to the Lord Mayor’s banquet in the evening, his heart

gave a bound of relief and delight, for he felt that he should not be

friendless, now, among that multitude of strangers; whereas, an

hour earlier, the idea of their going with him would have been an

insupportable terror to him.

Tom’s guardian angels, the two lords, had had less comfort in the

interview than the other parties to it.  They felt much as if they were

piloting a great ship through a dangerous channel; they were on the

alert constantly, and found their office no child’s play. Wherefore,

at last, when the ladies’ visit was drawing to a close and the Lord

Guilford Dudley was announced, they not only felt that their charge had

been sufficiently taxed for the present, but also that they themselves

were not in the best condition to take their ship back and make their

anxious voyage all over again.  So they respectfully advised Tom to

excuse himself, which he was very glad to do, although a slight shade

of disappointment might have been observed upon my Lady Jane’s face when

she heard the splendid stripling denied admittance.

There was a pause now, a sort of waiting silence which Tom could not

understand.  He glanced at Lord Hertford, who gave him a sign--but he

failed to understand that also.  The ready Elizabeth came to the rescue

with her usual easy grace.  She made reverence and said--

“Have we leave of the prince’s grace my brother to go?”

Tom said--

“Indeed your ladyships can have whatsoever of me they will, for the

asking; yet would I rather give them any other thing that in my poor

power lieth, than leave to take the light and blessing of their presence

hence.  Give ye good den, and God be with ye!” Then he smiled inwardly

at the thought, “‘Tis not for nought I have dwelt but among princes in

my reading, and taught my tongue some slight trick of their broidered

and gracious speech withal!”

When the illustrious maidens were gone, Tom turned wearily to his

keepers and said--

“May it please your lordships to grant me leave to go into some corner

and rest me?”

Lord Hertford said--

“So please your highness, it is for you to command, it is for us to

obey. That thou should’st rest is indeed a needful thing, since thou

must journey to the city presently.”

He touched a bell, and a page appeared, who was ordered to desire the

presence of Sir William Herbert.  This gentleman came straightway, and

conducted Tom to an inner apartment.  Tom’s first movement there was

to reach for a cup of water; but a silk-and-velvet servitor seized it,

dropped upon one knee, and offered it to him on a golden salver.

Next the tired captive sat down and was going to take off his buskins,

timidly asking leave with his eye, but another silk-and-velvet

discomforter went down upon his knees and took the office from him.  He

made two or three further efforts to help himself, but being promptly

forestalled each time, he finally gave up, with a sigh of resignation

and a murmured “Beshrew me, but I marvel they do not require to breathe

for me also!”  Slippered, and wrapped in a sumptuous robe, he laid

himself down at last to rest, but not to sleep, for his head was too

full of thoughts and the room too full of people.  He could not dismiss

the former, so they stayed; he did not know enough to dismiss the

latter, so they stayed also, to his vast regret--and theirs.

Tom’s departure had left his two noble guardians alone.  They mused a

while, with much head-shaking and walking the floor, then Lord St. John

said--

“Plainly, what dost thou think?”

“Plainly, then, this.  The King is near his end; my nephew is mad--mad

will mount the throne, and mad remain.  God protect England, since she

will need it!”

“Verily it promiseth so, indeed.  But . . . have you no misgivings as to

. . . as to . . .”

The speaker hesitated, and finally stopped.  He evidently felt that he

was upon delicate ground.  Lord Hertford stopped before him, looked into

his face with a clear, frank eye, and said--

“Speak on--there is none to hear but me.  Misgivings as to what?”

“I am full loth to word the thing that is in my mind, and thou so near

to him in blood, my lord.  But craving pardon if I do offend, seemeth it

not strange that madness could so change his port and manner?--not but

that his port and speech are princely still, but that they _differ_,

in one unweighty trifle or another, from what his custom was aforetime.

Seemeth it not strange that madness should filch from his memory his

father’s very lineaments; the customs and observances that are his due

from such as be about him; and, leaving him his Latin, strip him of his

Greek and French?  My lord, be not offended, but ease my mind of its

disquiet and receive my grateful thanks.  It haunteth me, his saying he

was not the prince, and so--”

“Peace, my lord, thou utterest treason!  Hast forgot the King’s command?

Remember I am party to thy crime if I but listen.”

St. John paled, and hastened to say--

“I was in fault, I do confess it.  Betray me not, grant me this grace

out of thy courtesy, and I will neither think nor speak of this thing

more. Deal not hardly with me, sir, else am I ruined.”

“I am content, my lord.  So thou offend not again, here or in the

ears of others, it shall be as though thou hadst not spoken.  But thou

need’st not have misgivings.  He is my sister’s son; are not his voice,

his face, his form, familiar to me from his cradle? Madness can do all

the odd conflicting things thou seest in him, and more.  Dost not recall

how that the old Baron Marley, being mad, forgot the favour of his

own countenance that he had known for sixty years, and held it was

another’s; nay, even claimed he was the son of Mary Magdalene, and that

his head was made of Spanish glass; and, sooth to say, he suffered none

to touch it, lest by mischance some heedless hand might shiver it?  Give

thy misgivings easement, good my lord.  This is the very prince--I know

him well--and soon will be thy king; it may advantage thee to bear this

in mind, and more dwell upon it than the other.”

After some further talk, in which the Lord St. John covered up his

mistake as well as he could by repeated protests that his faith was

thoroughly grounded now, and could not be assailed by doubts again, the

Lord Hertford relieved his fellow-keeper, and sat down to keep watch and

ward alone.  He was soon deep in meditation, and evidently the longer he

thought, the more he was bothered.  By-and-by he began to pace the floor

and mutter.

“Tush, he _must_ be the prince!  Will any be in all the land maintain

there can be two, not of one blood and birth, so marvellously twinned?

And even were it so, ’twere yet a stranger miracle that chance should

cast the one into the other’s place. Nay, ’tis folly, folly, folly!”

Presently he said--

“Now were he impostor and called himself prince, look you _that_ would

be natural; that would be reasonable.  But lived ever an impostor yet,

who, being called prince by the king, prince by the court, prince by

all, _denied_ his dignity and pleaded against his exaltation?  _No_!  By

the soul of St. Swithin, no!  This is the true prince, gone mad!”