The Prince and the Pauper
CHAPTER XX. The Prince and the hermit.
The high hedge hid him from the house, now; and so, under the impulse ofa deadly fright, he let out all his forces and sped toward a wood in thedistance. ?He never looked back until he had almost gained the shelterof the forest; then he turned and descried two figures in the distance.That was sufficient; he did not wait to scan them critically, buthurried on, and never abated his pace till he was far within thetwilight depths of the wood. Then he stopped; being persuaded that hewas now tolerably safe. He listened intently, but the stillness wasprofound and solemn--awful, even, and depressing to the spirits. ?Atwide intervals his straining ear did detect sounds, but they were soremote, and hollow, and mysterious, that they seemed not to be realsounds, but only the moaning and complaining ghosts of departedones. ?So the sounds were yet more dreary than the silence which theyinterrupted.
It was his purpose, in the beginning, to stay where he was the rest ofthe day; but a chill soon invaded his perspiring body, and he was atlast obliged to resume movement in order to get warm. He struck straightthrough the forest, hoping to pierce to a road presently, but he wasdisappointed in this. ?He travelled on and on; but the farther he went,the denser the wood became, apparently. ?The gloom began to thicken,by-and-by, and the King realised that the night was coming on. ?It madehim shudder to think of spending it in such an uncanny place; so hetried to hurry faster, but he only made the less speed, for he couldnot now see well enough to choose his steps judiciously; consequently hekept tripping over roots and tangling himself in vines and briers.
And how glad he was when at last he caught the glimmer of a light! Heapproached it warily, stopping often to look about him and listen. ?Itcame from an unglazed window-opening in a shabby little hut. ?He hearda voice, now, and felt a disposition to run and hide; but he changed hismind at once, for this voice was praying, evidently. ?He glided to theone window of the hut, raised himself on tiptoe, and stole a glancewithin. ?The room was small; its floor was the natural earth, beatenhard by use; in a corner was a bed of rushes and a ragged blanket ortwo; near it was a pail, a cup, a basin, and two or three pots and pans;there was a short bench and a three-legged stool; on the hearth theremains of a faggot fire were smouldering; before a shrine, which waslighted by a single candle, knelt an aged man, and on an old wooden boxat his side lay an open book and a human skull. ?The man was of large,bony frame; his hair and whiskers were very long and snowy white; hewas clothed in a robe of sheepskins which reached from his neck to hisheels.
"A holy hermit!" said the King to himself; "now am I indeed fortunate."
The hermit rose from his knees; the King knocked. ?A deep voiceresponded--
"Enter!--but leave sin behind, for the ground whereon thou shalt standis holy!"
The King entered, and paused. ?The hermit turned a pair of gleaming,unrestful eyes upon him, and said--
"Who art thou?"
"I am the King," came the answer, with placid simplicity.
"Welcome, King!" cried the hermit, with enthusiasm. ?Then, bustlingabout with feverish activity, and constantly saying, "Welcome, welcome,"he arranged his bench, seated the King on it, by the hearth, threw somefaggots on the fire, and finally fell to pacing the floor with a nervousstride.
"Welcome! ?Many have sought sanctuary here, but they were not worthy,and were turned away. ?But a King who casts his crown away, and despisesthe vain splendours of his office, and clothes his body in rags, todevote his life to holiness and the mortification of the flesh--he isworthy, he is welcome!--here shall he abide all his days till deathcome." ?The King hastened to interrupt and explain, but the hermit paidno attention to him--did not even hear him, apparently, but went righton with his talk, with a raised voice and a growing energy. ?"And thoushalt be at peace here. ?None shall find out thy refuge to disquiet theewith supplications to return to that empty and foolish life which Godhath moved thee to abandon. ?Thou shalt pray here; thou shalt study theBook; thou shalt meditate upon the follies and delusions of this world,and upon the sublimities of the world to come; thou shalt feed uponcrusts and herbs, and scourge thy body with whips, daily, to thepurifying of thy soul. Thou shalt wear a hair shirt next thy skin;thou shalt drink water only; and thou shalt be at peace; yes, wholly atpeace; for whoso comes to seek thee shall go his way again, baffled; heshall not find thee, he shall not molest thee."
The old man, still pacing back and forth, ceased to speak aloud, andbegan to mutter. ?The King seized this opportunity to state his case;and he did it with an eloquence inspired by uneasiness and apprehension.?But the hermit went on muttering, and gave no heed. ?And stillmuttering, he approached the King and said impressively--
"'Sh! ?I will tell you a secret!" ?He bent down to impart it, butchecked himself, and assumed a listening attitude. ?After a momentor two he went on tiptoe to the window-opening, put his head out, andpeered around in the gloaming, then came tiptoeing back again, put hisface close down to the King's, and whispered--
"I am an archangel!"
The King started violently, and said to himself, "Would God I were withthe outlaws again; for lo, now am I the prisoner of a madman!" ?Hisapprehensions were heightened, and they showed plainly in his face. ?Ina low excited voice the hermit continued--
"I see you feel my atmosphere! ?There's awe in your face! ?None maybe in this atmosphere and not be thus affected; for it is the veryatmosphere of heaven. ?I go thither and return, in the twinkling of aneye. ?I was made an archangel on this very spot, it is five years ago,by angels sent from heaven to confer that awful dignity. ?Their presencefilled this place with an intolerable brightness. ?And they knelt to me,King! yes, they knelt to me! for I was greater than they. ?I have walkedin the courts of heaven, and held speech with the patriarchs. ?Touchmy hand--be not afraid--touch it. ?There--now thou hast touched a handwhich has been clasped by Abraham and Isaac and Jacob! ?For I havewalked in the golden courts; I have seen the Deity face to face!" ?Hepaused, to give this speech effect; then his face suddenly changed, andhe started to his feet again saying, with angry energy, "Yes, I am anarchangel; _a mere archangel!_--I that might have been pope! ?It isverily true. ?I was told it from heaven in a dream, twenty years ago;ah, yes, I was to be pope!--and I _should_ have been pope, for Heavenhad said it--but the King dissolved my religious house, and I, poorobscure unfriended monk, was cast homeless upon the world, robbed of mymighty destiny!" Here he began to mumble again, and beat his forehead infutile rage, with his fist; now and then articulating a venomous curse,and now and then a pathetic "Wherefore I am nought but an archangel--Ithat should have been pope!"
So he went on, for an hour, whilst the poor little King sat andsuffered. Then all at once the old man's frenzy departed, and he becameall gentleness. ?His voice softened, he came down out of his clouds, andfell to prattling along so simply and so humanly, that he soon won theKing's heart completely. ?The old devotee moved the boy nearer to thefire and made him comfortable; doctored his small bruises and abrasionswith a deft and tender hand; and then set about preparing and cooking asupper--chatting pleasantly all the time, and occasionally stroking thelad's cheek or patting his head, in such a gently caressing way that ina little while all the fear and repulsion inspired by the archangel werechanged to reverence and affection for the man.
This happy state of things continued while the two ate the supper; then,after a prayer before the shrine, the hermit put the boy to bed, in asmall adjoining room, tucking him in as snugly and lovingly as a mothermight; and so, with a parting caress, left him and sat down by thefire, and began to poke the brands about in an absent and aimless way.Presently he paused; then tapped his forehead several times with hisfingers, as if trying to recall some thought which had escaped from hismind. ?Apparently he was unsuccessful. ?Now he started quickly up, andentered his guest's room, and said--
"Thou art King?"
"Yes," was the response, drowsily uttered.
"What King?"
"Of England."
"Of England? ?Then Henry is gone!"
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"Alack, it is so. ?I am his son."
A black frown settled down upon the hermit's face, and he clenched hisbony hands with a vindictive energy. ?He stood a few moments, breathingfast and swallowing repeatedly, then said in a husky voice--
"Dost know it was he that turned us out into the world houseless andhomeless?"
There was no response. ?The old man bent down and scanned the boy'sreposeful face and listened to his placid breathing. ?"He sleeps--sleepssoundly;" and the frown vanished away and gave place to an expression ofevil satisfaction. ?A smile flitted across the dreaming boy's features.The hermit muttered, "So--his heart is happy;" and he turned away. ?Hewent stealthily about the place, seeking here and there for something;now and then halting to listen, now and then jerking his head aroundand casting a quick glance toward the bed; and always muttering, alwaysmumbling to himself. ?At last he found what he seemed to want--a rustyold butcher knife and a whetstone. ?Then he crept to his place by thefire, sat himself down, and began to whet the knife softly on the stone,still muttering, mumbling, ejaculating. ?The winds sighed around thelonely place, the mysterious voices of the night floated by out of thedistances. ?The shining eyes of venturesome mice and rats peered out atthe old man from cracks and coverts, but he went on with his work, rapt,absorbed, and noted none of these things.
At long intervals he drew his thumb along the edge of his knife, andnodded his head with satisfaction. ?"It grows sharper," he said; "yes,it grows sharper."
He took no note of the flight of time, but worked tranquilly on,entertaining himself with his thoughts, which broke out occasionally inarticulate speech--
"His father wrought us evil, he destroyed us--and is gone down into theeternal fires! ?Yes, down into the eternal fires! ?He escaped us--but itwas God's will, yes it was God's will, we must not repine. ?But hehath not escaped the fires! ?No, he hath not escaped the fires, theconsuming, unpitying, remorseless fires--and _they_ are everlasting!"
And so he wrought, and still wrought--mumbling, chuckling a low raspingchuckle at times--and at times breaking again into words--
"It was his father that did it all. ?I am but an archangel; but for himI should be pope!"
The King stirred. ?The hermit sprang noiselessly to the bedside, andwent down upon his knees, bending over the prostrate form with his knifeuplifted. ?The boy stirred again; his eyes came open for an instant, butthere was no speculation in them, they saw nothing; the next moment histranquil breathing showed that his sleep was sound once more.
The hermit watched and listened, for a time, keeping his position andscarcely breathing; then he slowly lowered his arms, and presently creptaway, saying,--
"It is long past midnight; it is not best that he should cry out, lestby accident someone be passing."
He glided about his hovel, gathering a rag here, a thong there, andanother one yonder; then he returned, and by careful and gentle handlinghe managed to tie the King's ankles together without waking him. ?Nexthe essayed to tie the wrists; he made several attempts to cross them,but the boy always drew one hand or the other away, just as the cord wasready to be applied; but at last, when the archangel was almost readyto despair, the boy crossed his hands himself, and the next momentthey were bound. Now a bandage was passed under the sleeper's chin andbrought up over his head and tied fast--and so softly, so gradually,and so deftly were the knots drawn together and compacted, that the boyslept peacefully through it all without stirring.