has done. It is well that you should know. Years ago, before you were
born, he was not the lawful king in this Country. The true king was
his brother Cyril, who was good and kind, ruling wisely and well. But
suddenly he died. Those in his service guessed that his brother
Robert, this present King, had caused his death by poison. So Robert
became king. A stormy time he had of it, at first; for the whole land
loved King Cyril. Many accused Robert, and refused to do him
honor,--especially one holy man, John, King Cyril's friend and
physician. Yes, my son, he bore the same blessed name as yourself.
This man the people loved dearly, for he was wise and generous with his
wisdom. He healed them freely of their hurts. He went about the
country doing good, bringing love and good cheer wherever he went. He
was honored almost as a saint. But because he dared lift his voice
against the King--he died. No one knew how it happened. At the same
time his little son disappeared; men believed that he also was slain by
the cruel King. The people were furious; they stormed and threatened.
But alas! gradually the voices of their leaders were silenced. Some
died suddenly, as John had done. Some disappeared. Some were banished
from the kingdom. Some went away, broken-hearted; who knows where they
may be now?"
"Oh, how could the people forget their King and the holy man who had
been good to them?" cried John. "How could they allow that bad man to
be their king?"
"The people?" said the Hermit sadly. "The people so soon forget! Do
you not recall how, ages ago, the people treated the best Man who ever
lived? These folk dared not seem to remember. They were selfish and
lazy. The new King was rich and powerful. They found it easier to
grumble and do nothing else. And when the King said, 'Hunt!' they
hunted. When he commanded, 'Hate all animals; have no pets!' they
obeyed him. But it is a gloomy land, a sad land, of which Robert is
king!"
"Oh!" said John, "how do you know so much, my father?"
"Do not ask," said the Hermit. "One day I will tell you, but not now."
"Oh, he is a wicked King, who ought to die!" burst out John, throwing
up his arm angrily. "Would I were a man, and I would go kill him. But
I will do it when I am grown!"
At his rough tones and gestures the birds fluttered away, frightened,
and the animals slunk into the corners, trembling. The peace of the
little hut was rudely disturbed.
"Nay, my son, nay!" cried the old man in horror. "Say not such wicked
words! See how you frighten our peaceful friends. What have I tried
to teach you? It is not yours to avenge. The Lord himself will punish
as he sees best. Perhaps even now he chastens that wicked heart.
Already the King has lost his dearest, oldest son. He was killed five
years ago while hunting a wild boar in the forest. But now--"
At this moment there was a loud knock on the door of the hut. The
Hermit and John started and looked at each other in wonder. When had
such a thing happened before! Brutus and the wolf arose, bristling.
The bear growled savagely. The raven gave a screech of fear and
burrowed under John's cot. There was a moment's pause. Then the
Hermit, crossing himself, called loudly,--
"Enter, if your errand be peace. Enter, in the name of the Lord."
Quickly the latch clicked and the door flew open. Into the midst of
the startled group stumbled a man, breathless and covered with dust
from head to foot. His hat was gone. His hair was disheveled, and his
eyes bloodshot.
"Hasten!" he cried, turning to the Hermit. "You are the man I
seek,--you, skilled in herbs and healing. The King sends for you."
[Illustration: The King sends for you.]
"The King!" The Hermit and John spoke the word together, staring wildly.
"Yes, the King," repeated the man. "I have killed my horse to get
here. He fell in the forest yonder, even as I spied the light from
your window. There is no time to be lost. We must go on foot to the
nearest town, where horses may be had. Hasten, old man, and bring your
herbs and balsams."
"But whither? And for what purpose?" asked the Hermit, still standing
with one trembling hand on the holy book.
"The King's son is wounded," cried the messenger. "Five days ago he
was hunting the deer, and an arrow, glancing falsely, pierced his
breast. He was grievously hurt. Even now he may be dying. Why do we
waste words? The physicians have done their best, but they have given
him up at last. The King raved; he was beyond reason. Suddenly, in
his madness he spoke of you, the wizard of this forest. He recalled
that day when you cursed him for the sake of your brute creatures. He
vowed it was all enchantment. 'Send for the wizard!' he cried. 'Let
him cure my son. He dare not refuse, for he claims to be a servant of
God.'"
The Hermit was trembling now with emotion. "It is the Lord's will!" he
said. "He was wounded while hunting an innocent beast. On the
strength and speed of another beast hung his chance for life. And now,
only with the aid of another can we reach him in time.--Nay, upon a
fourth we must rely to find our way out of the forest. Brutus only can
help us. But let us hasten. Come, my friend! Back to the city once
more." Calling to the dog, he began to make hurried preparations for
departure.
John ran to him. "Do not go to the wicked man!" he whispered. "They
may kill you. Oh, what should I do then?"
The Hermit shook his head. "I must go," he said. "It is written, 'Do
good to them that hate you.' There is no question of my duty."
"Oh, let me then go with you, father," pleaded John.
The Hermit laid his hand on the boy's head, and looked at him tenderly.
"The time is not yet ripe, my son," he said. "Who knows what all this
may mean? Wait a little longer. Stay and care for our little friends.
From the nearest village I will send Brutus back to you. You will not
be lonely, with your work and play as usual. Do not neglect either.
Adieu, my dear son!" And he blessed John.
Embracing the boy and bidding farewell to the other friends, the Hermit
took his staff and bag of simples, and wrapped his cloak about him. "I
trust you, John," he said at the door. "Be patient, obedient, and
wise." Then in the folds of his cloak he took the carrier pigeon. "I
will send you word by our friend, if need be," he said, as he went out
into the darkness.
Brutus and the messenger followed him closely. The door banged behind
them, and John was alone with the circle of frightened, cowering
creatures. He threw himself on his knees before the Hermit's table,
and laying his head on the book, began to weep, he scarcely knew why.
XVIII
THE CARRIER PIGEON
A evening of the next day, just as John had finished his simple supper,
he heard a scratching at the door. It was Brutus, returning footsore
and weary. Tied to his collar John found a message from the Hermit.
"Be of good cheer," it read. "We mount excellent steeds to ride to the
King. If by God's help I may save the young man's life, I will return
to you speedily thereafter. If it be the Lord's will that other things
befall, I will send the carrier pigeon with news. Bear a good heart,
my son. Keep to your studies, your exercise, and your devotions as if
I were with you. So when I return I shall find you a little stronger,
wiser, a better champion of the good. Farewell!"
John read this letter eagerly, and set himself to obey the master's
wishes. But now the days seemed long indeed. In spite of the many
friends who shared the hut with him, John felt very lonely, and longed
for the dear old man's return. But now he had something more to think
of: the good King Cyril and the holy man, his friend, who had borne the
name of John. And he longed to be some day a man like that.
The Hermit had been gone for nearly a week. One day John was sitting
by the door of the hut, busy with his studies, when he heard a _whir_
in the air overhead. Glancing up, he saw the flash of snowy wings, and
presently the carrier pigeon came fluttering down to his shoulder.
"Ah, my dear bird!" cried John, tenderly taking the creature in his
hands and lifting it to peck at his lips as it always loved to do.
"You have come to me safely from far away. You have come from the
place where my dear father is. Have you brought me word from him?"
With a soft coo the pigeon nestled closer in John's arms. Reaching
under its wing, he found a scroll of writing tied there securely with a
silken cord.
"A letter from my father!" he cried, untying it eagerly.
It was indeed a long letter in the good man's clear script. It told of
their safe arrival, after a hard journey through the night; of their
reception by the King. They had come almost too late. But when they
arrived the Prince was still breathing. They were ushered into his
chamber, where he lay white and still. No one could rouse him to life
or consciousness. By his bedside sat the King, his face like a
mountain-top wrapped in clouds.
"Save my son!" he had cried when he saw the Hermit. "Save my son,
sorcerer, and I will give you whatever your heart craves."
"I am no sorcerer," the Hermit had answered. "I am God's servant, with
some skill in healing, because I have studied the work of His hands and
the uses of His gifts. If it be His will, I may save the young man.
If otherwise, we may not hope to prevail."
"Oh, he must not die!" cried the King. "You foretold it, I remember,
in the forest. But think--he is my only son. He must be king after
me. He must live!"
"Other sons have died," said the Hermit solemnly. "Other princes have
not lived to reign. And what of them?"
The King shuddered. "Save my son!" he repeated. "Only save this boy,
and I will do whatever you ask."
"Then" (said the Hermit's letter) "I did my best. I bathed the youth's
wound with my healing balsam. I gave him soothing draughts to drink.
I sat by his bedside and prayed that the Lord's will might be done
through me. And then came a change. A faint color blossomed in his
cheeks. His lips trembled; his eyes opened and he looked at me. Then
he sighed and closed his eyes. What he thought I know not. But he had
paused in his march towards death. From that day he mended. The
Prince's wound is now healed. The King's gratitude knew no bounds. He
promised me rewards beyond belief,--which, as you know, mean naught to
me.
"But, John, a strange thing has befallen. The Prince should now be
well upon the road to health. He should be gaining strength every day.
There seems no reason otherwise. But such happens not. He lies
passive and dazed. He seems not to care whether he lives or dies. He
never speaks nor smiles, only looks sometimes at me as if he wanted to
ask me something. The doctors say that he is slowly dying.
"And now, John," concluded the Hermit's letter, "now comes the reason
for these long, tedious words to you. I have done my utmost, but I am
powerless. Will you come? Will you try what your own skill and youth
may do? It may be your mission in life to save this lad who tried to
kill you. I know that if he could but once smile, he would get well.
Therein lies your power. Come, as quickly as you may. Bring with you
our animal friends who cannot be left behind. Brutus will lead you to
the village, and thence you must find your way to the Capital. And one
word more: if you find yourself in trouble or need, show the silver
talisman which you wear about your neck, and I think all will be well.
Remember my teachings, John, and come as soon as may be."
When John had finished the letter, he stood for a moment quite dazed.
He was to leave this place where all was peace and happiness, and go
back among men whom he feared! He was to go to the very King whose
name he shuddered to remember,--the King who had killed his brother and
that holy man John with his little son! He was to do all this for the
sake of the enemy who had hunted the bear, who had injured the gentle
deer, who had aimed to take John's own life! He grew sick at the
thought. Yet,--it was the Hermit himself who summoned him. And he
remembered the good man's teachings.
"How I can help I know not," sighed John, "but I must go!" He laid his
head upon the feathers of the carrier pigeon and shed some bitter
tears. Then, placing the bird gently on the tree beside him, he
straightened himself bravely. "I will go!" he said. "I will go
joyfully, as one should who hopes to be worthy to bear the name of
John."
Just then Brutus came sauntering from the hut, shaking himself lazily
after his nap.
"Ho, Brutus!" called John, snapping his fingers. "Shall we go on a
journey together, you and I? Shall we take these little friends on a
wonderful pilgrimage? And will you be my guide, as you were once
before, good Brutus?"
The dog seemed to understand. He pricked up his ears, and leaped up to
John's shoulders with a joyous bark. Then, rushing to the edge of the
wood, he looked back, inviting John to follow.
"Oh, let us be off!" he seemed to say. "I have been longing to go to
our dear master. Let us hasten, little brother!"
"Not so fast!" said John. "We have first to gather our provisions and
make ready our company of pilgrims. I must take all the food I can.
For I dare not trust wholly to the silver Cross. What could my father
mean by that?"
Still wondering, John set about his preparations. They did not take
long. There was neither lock nor bolt on the door of the Hermit's hut,
nor aught of value to hide. When John's basket was packed with simple
food, and the animals were gathered about him outside in the little
clearing, he rolled a stone against the door, and they were ready to go.
XIX
THE JOURNEY
A strange company they were, these citizens of the Animal Kingdom
traveling to town! Foremost went Brutus, leading the way and feeling
very important with a bundle bound upon his strong back. Gray and
gaunt, the wolf trotted along at his side, like another dog. Next came
John, with a knapsack on his shoulders, in which three little kittens
slumbered beside the provisions for their journey; there were always
new kittens in the Animal Kingdom. On his shoulder perched the raven,
and by a rope he led the bear, whom he felt safer to have close by his
side. Sometimes the bear trotted on all fours. Sometimes he walked
upright like a big brown man, towering over John's head. Now before
and now behind them went Blanche the cat, pretending as cats do that
she was neither following nor leading, but traveling quite
independently of them all. Frequently she disappeared into the bushes
or up a tree, but soon came scampering past, when she would stop to
make a hasty toilet. Overhead fluttered from tree to tree the carrier
pigeon and the other birds, who were John's pets and bound to follow
wherever he went.
The deer and her fawn went part way with them, and the little rabbits
hopped a staccato accompaniment for some time. But John did not urge
them to follow. He knew they were better off in the forest, where they
could take care of themselves.
All day they fared on the uneven path by which, nose to earth, Brutus
led them. And at last, weary and spent, they came to the little
village where the Hermit had taken horse for the longer journey.
John paused at the first house in the village and knocked at the gate.
A burly fellow came to the door.
"Hello!" he cried. Starting back when he saw the strange group
gathered in his dooryard. "What means all this?"
[Illustration: A strange company.]
"If you please," said John politely, "we go upon a Journey to the King,
and we seek shelter. Will you let us sleep in your stable, friend?"
"Sleep in my stable!" muttered the man, "a beggar with a band of outlaw
animals! A wolf and a bear! No, indeed. I have too much respect for
the safety of my cattle and for the King's laws."
He was about to shut the door in John's face. But the lad had a sudden
thought. He would try at this first place the value of the Hermit's
hint.
"Stay," he said, "one moment, friend." Fumbling in his breast, he drew
out the silver medal which he wore about his neck. "I was to show
this--" he began.
But he saw the man start, and, shading his lantern with his hands, peer
more closely at the object. Then he stared at John's face with wonder.
"In God's name!" exclaimed the man, "who are you who travel with this
strange company?"
John looked almost as surprised as he. "A poor pilgrim, on the King's
errand," he said. "We ask only a corner of your stable with a bed of
straw to lie on. Give us shelter, kind friend, and to-morrow speed us
on our way."
The man still stared at John as though he saw a fairy. But now he
threw the door wide open. "Enter," he said. "I cannot refuse you.
Enter my house. You shall have a bed and supper, fair boy; but what of
these?" and he turned troubled eyes upon the animals.
"Nay," said John simply, "I ask no better bed than theirs, my fellow
pilgrims. Thank you for your hospitality, kind friend. May we all
sleep in your stable? My animals are quite safe company. They will
hurt nothing that hurts not me."
John smiled then in his happy, trustful way, and the face of the man
looking into his brightened as if by reflection. His coarse mouth
broadened into a smile.
"They shall sleep soundly in the hay," said he kindly, "though it be
against the law. I will risk even the bear and the wolf for the sake
of that you wear about your neck. But the stable and the company of
beasts are not fit for the like of you. That I know, though you be in
rags. Come into the house, young stranger."
"Have you forgotten," said John gently, "how once a stable sheltered
the greatest King of all among the humblest beasts? I have often had
worse beds than a pile of sweet straw. I shall be happy enough among
my friends."
The man hung his head for a moment, then raised it and looked at John
strangely.
"I _had_ forgotten," he said. "Who are you? Who are you who talk so
wisely, and who wear that silver Cross upon you?"
"I am John, the Hermit's pupil, and I am very tired," was the answer.
"May we not rest now? To-morrow perhaps we will show you some pretty
tricks to pay for our night's lodging."
"_John_," mused the man, "that is a good name! I want no pay from any
one who bears that name." And still eyeing John strangely, he led the
way to the stable door.
He bade them good-night; and thereupon the straw the two-footed and
four-footed pilgrims rested peacefully together, nestled in a warm mass
of fur and feathers, flaxen hair, and woolen rags.
In the morning the farmer brought them food, and his family came with
him to see the strange visitors. For so many animals had never before
been seen together in that country. John put Bruin and Brutus through
their tricks, and the children clapped their hands joyously at the
sight. Then John himself tumbled and danced for them, and they were in
an ecstasy.
At the end of the performance they clung about the boy's neck and flung
themselves upon the animals, declaring that they must not go away, and
begging them to stay forever.
But John shook his head, smiling. "I must be off," he said. "I must
do the King's errand."
And so they went upon their way, the children watching them wistfully
out of sight. But the farmer went with them some little distance to
point out the road; and when he left them he spoke a last word of
warning.
"The King has no love of animals," he said. "There are none in all the
kingdom save those for use and those he hunts to kill. There are no
pets nor playmates for the children; no birds even in his forests.
Beware his wrath, my lad, when he has word of your caravan."
"I am going to the King," said John simply. "We go to save the life of
his son."
The farmer stared again at John with a strange expression. "You, to
save his life!" he muttered. "I cannot understand it all!" And he
passed his hand over his forehead.
"I have some skill at healing. Farewell!" cried John gaily. "We shall
be safe, I know."
"Ay, with that silver thing on your neck," said the man to himself,
shading his eyes to watch them out of sight. "John; the Hermit's
pupil; a boy with the knowledge of healing, and a smile,--Saint
Francis! What a smile! He is like our holy John come back again as a
child. Who can he be?" And he crossed himself devoutly as he went
back to his work.
But John and his friends went sturdily upon their way. Up and down
hills they traveled; along dusty roads; through lonely stretches of
moor and plain. They caused great excitement in the villages through
which they passed. It was years since the townsfolk had seen a dancing
bear; years even since they had enjoyed the frolics of a cat and
kittens. The raven was a source of delight. The birds that followed
overhead and came at John's call, perching on his arms and shoulders,
filled the children with envy. The wolf looked so fierce that they
were afraid of him; but his brother Brutus was petted in a way to spoil
any ordinary dog. Yet he kept his temper and his poise, and endured
their homage meekly.
Often, in the country through which they passed, John found sick
persons to whom he could bring relief, and gladly he used the knowledge
which the Hermit had taught him. It seemed that there were few in that
land who had the skill of healing, and many of the sick had long
suffered for lack of the simple remedies which John had often used for
his pets. He saved several lives. Oh! that was joy for John! The
people were very grateful, and would have paid him anything he wished.
But all he asked was food or shelter for himself and his friends. Then
they spoke his name softly and kissed his hands, which made John laugh.
John found it easy enough to earn all the food he needed in the
villages. Remembering his mountebank days, he had but to hold a little
performance in the public square. Every one would hurry to see Bruin
do his tricks and John himself turn somersaults and walk on his hands;
after which the bear would dance and pass the hat, into which the
pennies rained generously.
But it was harder to find lodgings for the night. Knowing the King's
hatred for animals, men feared to shelter this caravan. Only when John
would pull from his breast the talisman of silver would they soften and
yield to his wishes, wondering and almost worshiping, as the farmer had
done on that first day. John himself was the most wondering of them
all. For he saw no reason why the silver Cross should have such power.
Sometimes he wondered if it was bewitched; but he knew the good Hermit
would not have bade him rely on magic. Yet it made him almost afraid,
so that he used this power only when he had to for the sake of the
weary animals. He himself was welcome everywhere,--perhaps for the
sake of his yellow hair and blue eyes, which were a wonder in that
country; but more likely for the smiling ways and cheerful speech of
him, that made his passing through that gloomy land like the passage of
a sunbeam through thick clouds; and blessings followed after him.
And so, after six days of travel, they came at last to the King's city.
XX
THE ARRIVAL
About sundown John with his train came to the gates of the city where
the King lived. They were all very hungry, dusty, and tired.
A watchman on the wall, with telescope to his eye, had spied them afar
off.
"Hello!" he cried. "What is this coming down the highroad? It seems a
small caravan, creeping and writhing like a caterpillar. The head of
it seems human. But, by my faith! the rest of it is like nothing I
have seen for many years! What ho! Let us be on guard. It may be an
enemy of the King."
The warders ran to arms. And so it happened that a crowd of them were
gaping at the entrance when John and his companions came up.
The lad was almost exhausted. But when he saw the way barred by a band
of frowning armed men, he doffed his cap and smiled his own peculiar
smile.
"Good-evening, friends," he said. "We have been long in reaching your
city. We are glad to be at the gates at last."
"Who are you?" asked the Captain gruffly, stepping forward and barring
the way, while his companions gazed in amazement at the wolf and the
bear who were huddled at John's side.
"I come on an errand to the King," said John. "Please guide me to him
quickly, for it is an urgent matter."
"To the King!" sneered the Captain; and the warders echoed his laugh.
"No one goes to the King in such company as you bring. You must know
that. They are outlaws, all,--and you too, I dare say!"
"I know not. But I must see the King, and that quickly," said John.
"I come with these friends to heal the King's son, if I can."
"Ha! More sorcery!" interrupted the Captain. "No, you shall not enter
here. The King allows no animals in his domain. How you have brought
them so far I cannot guess!"
"Well, I bear this," said John, drawing out the silver talisman.
The men bent forward to look at it, then fell back, staring at one
another with astonished faces.
"Who is he?" they whispered among themselves. "What shall we do?"
"Let me pass, good friends," begged John, looking up in their faces
with his simple smile. "I will promise to do no harm. Among friends
my friends are quite harmless. But tell me, I pray you, where I may
find the good Hermit who healed the Prince's wound? I come at his
bidding."
At these words the guards pulled themselves together and exchanged
looks. They began to swagger.