Chapter XXVII. In prison.

by Mark Twain

　　The cells were all crowded; so the two friends were chained in alarge room where persons charged with trifling offences werecommonly kept. They had company, for there were some twentymanacled and fettered prisoners here, of both sexes and of varyingages,--an obscene and noisy gang. The King chafed bitterly overthe stupendous indignity thus put upon his royalty, but Hendon wasmoody and taciturn. He was pretty thoroughly bewildered; he hadcome home, a jubilant prodigal, expecting to find everybody wildwith joy over his return; and instead had got the cold shoulderand a jail. The promise and the fulfilment differed so widelythat the effect was stunning; he could not decide whether it wasmost tragic or most grotesque. He felt much as a man might whohad danced blithely out to enjoy a rainbow, and got struck bylightning.But gradually his confused and tormenting thoughts settled downinto some sort of order, and then his mind centred itself uponEdith. He turned her conduct over, and examined it in all lights,but he could not make anything satisfactory out of it. Did sheknow him--or didn't she know him? It was a perplexing puzzle, andoccupied him a long time; but he ended, finally, with theconviction that she did know him, and had repudiated him forinterested reasons. He wanted to load her name with curses now;but this name had so long been sacred to him that he found hecould not bring his tongue to profane it.Wrapped in prison blankets of a soiled and tattered condition,Hendon and the King passed a troubled night. For a bribe thejailer had furnished liquor to some of the prisoners; singing ofribald songs, fighting, shouting, and carousing was the naturalconsequence. At last, a while after midnight, a man attacked awoman and nearly killed her by beating her over the head with hismanacles before the jailer could come to the rescue. The jailerrestored peace by giving the man a sound clubbing about the headand shoulders--then the carousing ceased; and after that, all hadan opportunity to sleep who did not mind the annoyance of themoanings and groanings of the two wounded people.During the ensuing week, the days and nights were of a monotonoussameness as to events; men whose faces Hendon remembered more orless distinctly, came, by day, to gaze at the 'impostor' andrepudiate and insult him; and by night the carousing and brawlingwent on with symmetrical regularity. However, there was a changeof incident at last. The jailer brought in an old man, and saidto him--"The villain is in this room--cast thy old eyes about and see ifthou canst say which is he."Hendon glanced up, and experienced a pleasant sensation for thefirst time since he had been in the jail. He said to himself,"This is Blake Andrews, a servant all his life in my father'sfamily--a good honest soul, with a right heart in his breast.That is, formerly. But none are true now; all are liars. Thisman will know me--and will deny me, too, like the rest."The old man gazed around the room, glanced at each face in turn,and finally said--"I see none here but paltry knaves, scum o' the streets. Which ishe?"The jailer laughed."Here," he said; "scan this big animal, and grant me an opinion."The old man approached, and looked Hendon over, long andearnestly, then shook his head and said--"Marry, this is no Hendon--nor ever was!""Right! Thy old eyes are sound yet. An' I were Sir Hugh, I wouldtake the shabby carle and--"The jailer finished by lifting himself a-tip-toe with an imaginaryhalter, at the same time making a gurgling noise in his throatsuggestive of suffocation. The old man said, vindictively--"Let him bless God an' he fare no worse. An' I had the handlingo' the villain he should roast, or I am no true man!"The jailer laughed a pleasant hyena laugh, and said--"Give him a piece of thy mind, old man--they all do it. Thou'ltfind it good diversion."Then he sauntered toward his ante-room and disappeared. The oldman dropped upon his knees and whispered--"God be thanked, thou'rt come again, my master! I believed thouwert dead these seven years, and lo, here thou art alive! I knewthee the moment I saw thee; and main hard work it was to keep astony countenance and seem to see none here but tuppenny knavesand rubbish o' the streets. I am old and poor, Sir Miles; but saythe word and I will go forth and proclaim the truth though I bestrangled for it.""No," said Hendon; "thou shalt not. It would ruin thee, and yethelp but little in my cause. But I thank thee, for thou hastgiven me back somewhat of my lost faith in my kind."The old servant became very valuable to Hendon and the King; forhe dropped in several times a day to 'abuse' the former, andalways smuggled in a few delicacies to help out the prison bill offare; he also furnished the current news. Hendon reserved thedainties for the King; without them his Majesty might not havesurvived, for he was not able to eat the coarse and wretched foodprovided by the jailer. Andrews was obliged to confine himself tobrief visits, in order to avoid suspicion; but he managed toimpart a fair degree of information each time--informationdelivered in a low voice, for Hendon's benefit, and interlardedwith insulting epithets delivered in a louder voice for thebenefit of other hearers.So, little by little, the story of the family came out. Arthurhad been dead six years. This loss, with the absence of news fromHendon, impaired the father's health; he believed he was going todie, and he wished to see Hugh and Edith settled in life before hepassed away; but Edith begged hard for delay, hoping for Miles'sreturn; then the letter came which brought the news of Miles'sdeath; the shock prostrated Sir Richard; he believed his end wasvery near, and he and Hugh insisted upon the marriage; Edithbegged for and obtained a month's respite, then another, andfinally a third; the marriage then took place by the death-bed ofSir Richard. It had not proved a happy one. It was whisperedabout the country that shortly after the nuptials the bride foundamong her husband's papers several rough and incomplete drafts ofthe fatal letter, and had accused him of precipitating themarriage--and Sir Richard's death, too--by a wicked forgery.Tales of cruelty to the Lady Edith and the servants were to beheard on all hands; and since the father's death Sir Hugh hadthrown off all soft disguises and become a pitiless master towardall who in any way depended upon him and his domains for bread.There was a bit of Andrew's gossip which the King listened to witha lively interest--"There is rumour that the King is mad. But in charity forbear tosay I mentioned it, for 'tis death to speak of it, they say."His Majesty glared at the old man and said--"The King is not mad, good man--and thou'lt find it to thyadvantage to busy thyself with matters that nearer concern theethan this seditious prattle.""What doth the lad mean?" said Andrews, surprised at this briskassault from such an unexpected quarter. Hendon gave him a sign,and he did not pursue his question, but went on with his budget--"The late King is to be buried at Windsor in a day or two--the16th of the month--and the new King will be crowned at Westminsterthe 20th.""Methinks they must needs find him first," muttered his Majesty;then added, confidently, "but they will look to that--and so alsoshall I.""In the name of--"But the old man got no further--a warning sign from Hendon checkedhis remark. He resumed the thread of his gossip--"Sir Hugh goeth to the coronation--and with grand hopes. Heconfidently looketh to come back a peer, for he is high in favourwith the Lord Protector.""What Lord Protector?" asked his Majesty."His Grace the Duke of Somerset.""What Duke of Somerset?""Marry, there is but one--Seymour, Earl of Hertford."The King asked sharply--"Since when is he a duke, and Lord Protector?""Since the last day of January.""And prithee who made him so?""Himself and the Great Council--with help of the King."His Majesty started violently. "The king!" he cried. "What king,good sir?""What king, indeed! (God-a-mercy, what aileth the boy?) Sith wehave but one, 'tis not difficult to answer--his most sacredMajesty King Edward the Sixth--whom God preserve! Yea, and a dearand gracious little urchin is he, too; and whether he be mad orno--and they say he mendeth daily--his praises are on all men'slips; and all bless him, likewise, and offer prayers that he maybe spared to reign long in England; for he began humanely withsaving the old Duke of Norfolk's life, and now is he bent ondestroying the cruellest of the laws that harry and oppress thepeople."This news struck his Majesty dumb with amazement, and plunged himinto so deep and dismal a reverie that he heard no more of the oldman's gossip. He wondered if the 'little urchin' was the beggar-boy whom he left dressed in his own garments in the palace. Itdid not seem possible that this could be, for surely his mannersand speech would betray him if he pretended to be the Prince ofWales--then he would be driven out, and search made for the trueprince. Could it be that the Court had set up some sprig of thenobility in his place? No, for his uncle would not allow that--hewas all-powerful and could and would crush such a movement, ofcourse. The boy's musings profited him nothing; the more he triedto unriddle the mystery the more perplexed he became, the more hishead ached, and the worse he slept. His impatience to get toLondon grew hourly, and his captivity became almost unendurable.Hendon's arts all failed with the King--he could not be comforted;but a couple of women who were chained near him succeeded better.Under their gentle ministrations he found peace and learned adegree of patience. He was very grateful, and came to love themdearly and to delight in the sweet and soothing influence of theirpresence. He asked them why they were in prison, and when theysaid they were Baptists, he smiled, and inquired--"Is that a crime to be shut up for in a prison? Now I grieve, forI shall lose ye--they will not keep ye long for such a littlething."They did not answer; and something in their faces made him uneasy.He said, eagerly--"You do not speak; be good to me, and tell me--there will be noother punishment? Prithee tell me there is no fear of that."They tried to change the topic, but his fears were aroused, and hepursued it--"Will they scourge thee? No, no, they would not be so cruel! Saythey would not. Come, they will not, will they?"The women betrayed confusion and distress, but there was noavoiding an answer, so one of them said, in a voice choked withemotion--"Oh, thou'lt break our hearts, thou gentle spirit!--God will helpus to bear our--""It is a confession!" the King broke in. "Then they will scourgethee, the stony-hearted wretches! But oh, thou must not weep, Icannot bear it. Keep up thy courage--I shall come to my own intime to save thee from this bitter thing, and I will do it!"When the King awoke in the morning, the women were gone."They are saved!" he said, joyfully; then added, despondently,"but woe is me!--for they were my comforters."Each of them had left a shred of ribbon pinned to his clothing, intoken of remembrance. He said he would keep these things always;and that soon he would seek out these dear good friends of his andtake them under his protection.Just then the jailer came in with some subordinates, and commandedthat the prisoners be conducted to the jail-yard. The King wasoverjoyed--it would be a blessed thing to see the blue sky andbreathe the fresh air once more. He fretted and chafed at theslowness of the officers, but his turn came at last, and he wasreleased from his staple and ordered to follow the other prisonerswith Hendon.The court or quadrangle was stone-paved, and open to the sky. Theprisoners entered it through a massive archway of masonry, andwere placed in file, standing, with their backs against the wall.A rope was stretched in front of them, and they were also guardedby their officers. It was a chill and lowering morning, and alight snow which had fallen during the night whitened the greatempty space and added to the general dismalness of its aspect.Now and then a wintry wind shivered through the place and sent thesnow eddying hither and thither.In the centre of the court stood two women, chained to posts. Aglance showed the King that these were his good friends. Heshuddered, and said to himself, "Alack, they are not gone free, asI had thought. To think that such as these should know the lash!--in England! Ay, there's the shame of it--not in Heathennesse,Christian England! They will be scourged; and I, whom they havecomforted and kindly entreated, must look on and see the greatwrong done; it is strange, so strange, that I, the very source ofpower in this broad realm, am helpless to protect them. But letthese miscreants look well to themselves, for there is a daycoming when I will require of them a heavy reckoning for thiswork. For every blow they strike now, they shall feel a hundredthen."A great gate swung open, and a crowd of citizens poured in. Theyflocked around the two women, and hid them from the King's view.A clergyman entered and passed through the crowd, and he also washidden. The King now heard talking, back and forth, as ifquestions were being asked and answered, but he could not make outwhat was said. Next there was a deal of bustle and preparation,and much passing and repassing of officials through that part ofthe crowd that stood on the further side of the women; and whilstthis proceeded a deep hush gradually fell upon the people.Now, by command, the masses parted and fell aside, and the Kingsaw a spectacle that froze the marrow in his bones. Faggots hadbeen piled about the two women, and a kneeling man was lightingthem!The women bowed their heads, and covered their faces with theirhands; the yellow flames began to climb upward among the snappingand crackling faggots, and wreaths of blue smoke to stream away onthe wind; the clergyman lifted his hands and began a prayer--justthen two young girls came flying through the great gate, utteringpiercing screams, and threw themselves upon the women at thestake. Instantly they were torn away by the officers, and one ofthem was kept in a tight grip, but the other broke loose, sayingshe would die with her mother; and before she could be stopped shehad flung her arms about her mother's neck again. She was tornaway once more, and with her gown on fire. Two or three men heldher, and the burning portion of her gown was snatched off andthrown flaming aside, she struggling all the while to freeherself, and saying she would be alone in the world, now; andbegging to be allowed to die with her mother. Both the girlsscreamed continually, and fought for freedom; but suddenly thistumult was drowned under a volley of heart-piercing shrieks ofmortal agony--the King glanced from the frantic girls to thestake, then turned away and leaned his ashen face against thewall, and looked no more. He said, "That which I have seen, inthat one little moment, will never go out from my memory, but willabide there; and I shall see it all the days, and dream of it allthe nights, till I die. Would God I had been blind!"Hendon was watching the King. He said to himself, withsatisfaction, "His disorder mendeth; he hath changed, and growethgentler. If he had followed his wont, he would have stormed atthese varlets, and said he was King, and commanded that the womenbe turned loose unscathed. Soon his delusion will pass away andbe forgotten, and his poor mind will be whole again. God speedthe day!"That same day several prisoners were brought in to remain overnight, who were being conveyed, under guard, to various places inthe kingdom, to undergo punishment for crimes committed. The Kingconversed with these--he had made it a point, from the beginning,to instruct himself for the kingly office by questioning prisonerswhenever the opportunity offered--and the tale of their woes wrunghis heart. One of them was a poor half-witted woman who hadstolen a yard or two of cloth from a weaver--she was to be hangedfor it. Another was a man who had been accused of stealing ahorse; he said the proof had failed, and he had imagined that hewas safe from the halter; but no--he was hardly free before he wasarraigned for killing a deer in the King's park; this was provedagainst him, and now he was on his way to the gallows. There wasa tradesman's apprentice whose case particularly distressed theKing; this youth said he found a hawk, one evening, that hadescaped from its owner, and he took it home with him, imagininghimself entitled to it; but the court convicted him of stealingit, and sentenced him to death.The King was furious over these inhumanities, and wanted Hendon tobreak jail and fly with him to Westminster, so that he could mounthis throne and hold out his sceptre in mercy over theseunfortunate people and save their lives. "Poor child," sighedHendon, "these woeful tales have brought his malady upon himagain; alack, but for this evil hap, he would have been well in alittle time."Among these prisoners was an old lawyer--a man with a strong faceand a dauntless mien. Three years past, he had written a pamphletagainst the Lord Chancellor, accusing him of injustice, and hadbeen punished for it by the loss of his ears in the pillory, anddegradation from the bar, and in addition had been fined 3,000pounds and sentenced to imprisonment for life. Lately he hadrepeated his offence; and in consequence was now under sentence tolose what remained of his ears, pay a fine of 5,000 pounds, bebranded on both cheeks, and remain in prison for life."These be honourable scars," he said, and turned back his greyhair and showed the mutilated stubs of what had once been hisears.The King's eye burned with passion. He said--"None believe in me--neither wilt thou. But no matter--within thecompass of a month thou shalt be free; and more, the laws thathave dishonoured thee, and shamed the English name, shall be sweptfrom the statute books. The world is made wrong; kings should goto school to their own laws, at times, and so learn mercy." {1}