It could not be said that the Prince missed his mother; children of his
age cannot do that; but somehow, after she died everything seemed to go
wrong with him. From a beautiful baby he became pale and sickly, seeming
to have almost ceased growing, especially in his legs, which had been so
fat and strong. But after the day of his christening they withered, and
when he was nearly a year old, and his nurse tried to make him stand, he
only tumbled down.
This happened so many times that at last people began to talk about it.
A prince, and not able to stand on his legs! What a misfortune to the
country!
After a time he became stronger and his body grew, but his limbs
remained shrunken. No one talked of this to the King, for he was very
sad.
The King desired that the Prince should keep the name given him by the
little old woman in grey and so he was known as Dolor.
Once a week, according to established state custom, the Prince, dressed
in his very best, was brought to the King, his father, for half an hour,
but his Majesty was too melancholy to pay much attention to the child.
Only once, when the King and his brother were sitting together, with
Prince Dolor playing in a corner of the room, dragging himself about
with his arms, rather than his legs, it seemed to strike the father that
all was not right with his son.
"How old is his Royal Highness?" said he, suddenly, to the nurse.
"Two years, three months, and five days, please your Majesty."
"It does not please me," said the King with a sigh. "He ought to be far
more forward than he is. Is there not something wrong about him?"
"Oh, no," said the King's brother, exchanging meaning looks with the
nurse. "Nothing to make your Majesty at all uneasy. No doubt his Royal
Highness will outgrow it in time."
"Out-grow what?"
"A slight delicacy--ahem!--in the spine--something inherited, perhaps,
from his dear mother."
"Ah, she was always delicate; but she was the sweetest woman that ever
lived. Come here, my little son."
The Prince turned to his father a small, sweet, grave face--like his
mother's, and the King smiled and held out his arms. But when the boy
came to him, not running like a boy, but wriggling awkwardly along the
floor, the royal countenance clouded.
"I ought to have been told of this. Send for all the doctors in my
kingdom immediately."
They came, and agreed in what had been pretty well known before; that
the prince must have been hurt when he was an infant. Did anybody
remember?
No, nobody. Indignantly, all the nurses denied that any such accident
had happened.
But of all this the King knew nothing, for, indeed, after the first
shock of finding out that his son could not walk, and seemed never
likely to walk, he interfered very little concerning him. He could not
walk; his limbs were mere useless additions to his body, but the body
itself was strong and sound, and his face was the same as ever--just
like his mother's face, one of the sweetest in the world!
Even the King, indifferent as he was, sometimes looked at the little
fellow with sad tenderness, noticing how cleverly he learned to crawl,
and swing himself about by his arms, so that in his own awkward way he
was as active as most children of his age.
"Poor little man! he does his best, and he is not unhappy," said the
King to his brother. "I have appointed you as Regent. In case of my
death, you will take care of my poor little boy?"
Soon after he said this, the King died, as suddenly and quietly as the
Queen had done, and Prince Dolor was left without either father or
mother--as sad a thing as could happen, even to a Prince.
He was more than that now, though. He was a king. In Nomansland as in
other countries, the people were struck with grief one day and revived
the next. "The king is dead--long live the king!" was the cry that rang
through the nation, and almost before his late Majesty had been laid
beside the queen, crowds came thronging from all parts to the royal
palace, eager to see the new monarch.
They did see him--sitting on the floor of the council-chamber, sucking
his thumb! And when one of the gentlemen-in-waiting lifted him up and
carried him to the chair of state, and put the crown on his head, he
shook it off again, it was so heavy and uncomfortable. Sliding down to
the foot of the throne, he began playing with the gold lions that
supported it;--laughing as if he had at last found something to amuse
him.
"It is very unfortunate," said one of the lords. "It is always bad for a
nation when its king is a child; but such a child--a permanent cripple,
if not worse."
"Let us hope not worse," said another lord in a very hopeless tone, and
looking towards the Regent, who stood erect and pretended to hear
nothing. "I have heard that these kind of children with very large heads
and great broad foreheads and staring eyes, are--well, well, let us hope
for the best and be prepared for the worst. In the meantime--"
"Come forth and kiss the hilt of his sword," said the Regent--"I swear
to perform my duties as Regent, to take care of his Majesty, and I shall
do my humble best to govern the country."
Whenever the Regent and his sons appeared, they were received with
shouts--"Long live the Regent!" "Long live the Royal family!"
As for the other child, his Royal Highness Prince Dolor--somehow people
soon ceased to call him his Majesty, which seemed such a ridiculous
title for a poor little fellow, a helpless cripple, with only head and
trunk, and no legs to speak of--he was seen very seldom by anybody.
Sometimes people daring to peer over the high wall of the palace garden
noticed there a pretty little crippled boy with large dreamy, thoughtful
eyes, beneath the grave glance of which wrongdoers felt uneasy, and,
although they did not know it then, the sight of him bearing his
affliction made them better.
If anybody had said that Prince Dolor's uncle was cruel, he would have
said that what he did was for the good of the country.
Therefore he went one day to the council-chamber, informed the ministers
and the country that the young King was in failing health, and that it
would be best to send him for a time to the Beautiful Mountains where
his mother was born.
Soon after he obtained an order to send the King away--which was done in
great state. The nation learned, without much surprise, that the poor
little Prince--had fallen ill on the road and died within a few hours;
so declared the physician in attendance, and the nurse who had been sent
to take care of him. They brought the coffin back in great state, and
buried him with his parents.
The country went into deep mourning for him, and then forgot him, and
his uncle reigned in his stead.