was lying upon his couch in a balcony overlooking the royal park. The
Hermit sat close by, reading aloud from the book which he was teaching
the Prince to love, as he had taught John. The little Princess bent
over her embroidery frame at the foot of the couch, and John himself,
on the floor at her feet, was playing with Brutus. The other animals
and birds were straying about the balcony, or lay cuddled in the
Prince's lap. John thought how like this scene was to the Animal
Kingdom in the woods; yet how unlike. And he glanced from the Prince
to the Princess with a smile of content. It seemed hardly possible
that this was the land where no pets were allowed; where hunting was
the favorite sport of the King and his son!
Suddenly, in a pause of the reading, the Prince put out his hand.
"Friends," he said, "you have taught me many things in these weeks that
you have dwelt under this roof. You have cured me; you have made me
laugh. I have been thinking much of late how it is that where you come
folk are happy. Your faces make the world smile. How different from
my father and me! We have always made every one weep. There has been
something wrong, I know not what. No one loves us,--not even Clare
here."
"O brother!" protested the little maid, "I have always loved you. But
never so dearly as now, when you have grown so kind."
John spoke gently. "You will change all this when you are king," he
said.
The Prince shook his head. "No, they will never love me as they do
you. I would fain be different, but I can never be like you, John.
You should be king, not I."
John laughed. "And what would become of the Animal Kingdom then?" he
said. "My father and I have been talking together. We must soon go
back to our woods and our little friends there."
"Oh, you must not go!" gasped the Prince, turning pale. "You must
never leave me! I can never again be alone with the King!"
He looked so terror-stricken that the Hermit and John were silent for
pity.
"I have been thinking," went on the Prince gravely, "that when I am
king, if that time ever comes,--and they say that it must, since there
is no other son of our house,--I shall need much help, for I am weak
and not wise. You, good father, I would have you for my counselor.
And you,"--he laid his arm affectionately on John's shoulder,--"you
shall be my brother and share the throne with me."
"Nay, thrones cannot be shared thus," said the Hermit, looking at both
boys with some agitation. "You are a king's son. But we are of the
woods, my Prince. I at least have other work to do. As John says,
there is the Animal Kingdom--what is to become of that?"
"Why, there will be no need for you to go to find it," answered the
Prince eagerly. "When I am king all shall be changed. This shall be
the Animal Kingdom. There shall be no more hunting or killing here.
There shall be pets,--more than in any other land. For I have seen how
unhappy are folk who live without them."
"Now God be praised!" cried the good Hermit, with tears in his eyes.
And John embraced the Prince heartily, while the little Princess
clapped her hands and cried with shining eyes, "Oh! we shall all live
together forever and ever, as happily as if this were the lovely forest
which is John's home."
"Nay," said the Hermit gravely, "I cannot live here. I must go back to
my woods. I have vowed never again to live away from my Forest
Kingdom. But you, John, have taken no vow. Will you stay here with
the Prince, or will you go back with me? Make now your choice."
John looked wistfully at the Prince and Princess, for he loved them
well. He looked at the animals who crowded around him and seemed to be
listening to his words. He knew how eager they were to be back in the
forest. He looked at the Hermit.
"Oh, stay!" cried the Prince. "Stay and be my brother, and I will make
you rich and powerful."
"Oh, stay!" begged the little Princess. "Stay and be my brother, too!"
But John shook his head. "I cannot stay," he said. "If my dear father
will have me for his pupil still, I will go back with him. For though
it is pleasant here, I love best the life of the woods and the freedom
of the forest. And I long to learn what no one in this kingdom can
teach me: the art of healing and helping, as did that good John whose
name I bear."
The Hermit's face beamed like May sunshine, but he said nothing.
"Then I will go to the forest with you!" cried the Prince. "I will not
stay here. I do not want to be king. I too would be free and happy in
the Kingdom of the Forest."
"And I will go also!" said the Princess.
"Hush!" said the Hermit gravely. "That may not be. Your duty lies
here. When you are king, my Prince, you can make your kingdom into a
happy place. Then, little Princess, you will be proud of it and of
him. Your duty is to the kingdom where you were born, and to the
people of it, whom you can make happier and better. But perhaps, some
day when I am gone to a still fairer kingdom, John will be able to help
you, as another John once helped another King."
At this moment there was a noise at the window which led to the
balcony, and the King stepped out to them. How long he had been
standing inside, how much of their talk he had heard, no one knew.
The Princess flushed; but the Prince turned pale as he greeted his
father respectfully. John and the Hermit exchanged glances. They were
not afraid for themselves, but they dreaded the King's wrath for his
son and daughter, who had threatened to run away.
The King stood for a moment, looking at the group with a frown. Then a
peculiar smile twisted his lips.
"Ah!" he said, "I have intruded, it seems, upon a council of State. I
fear that I interrupt your plans, my son. But I trust that you and
these noble visitors will pardon my desire to learn the state of your
health. You must not be over-excited." He waved his hand toward the
Hermit and John, then bowed low to each of the animals in turn, with
bitter mockery.
The Princess trembled, for she saw how angry the King was.
"We have no secrets, my friends and I," said the Prince with dignity.
"We have nothing to conceal of which we are ashamed."
The King looked at him quickly, as if suspecting that his words meant
some reproach. But he only said, "That is well." Then his manner
changed. He tried to appear merry and genial. "And now, my son," he
said, "since you are so much better, I wish to plan a festival in your
honor, to celebrate your cure."
The little Princess looked at him quickly. She suspected some
treachery. But the Prince seemed pleased.
"For me?" he said. "A festival in which these friends may share--these
friends who saved my life?"
"Ay," answered the King, bowing to the group once more with a peculiar
smile. "Surely, it shall be also in honor of these friends to whom we
are so grateful." The Hermit and John bowed. The King went on
suavely: "We will have a pageant, with music and games and singing.
But chiefly the people clamor to see our young friend do the wonderful
tricks of which they have heard. I myself would fain see what you, my
son, have found so amusing. My lad,"--he turned to John with a strange
tone in his voice,--"you shall dance and tumble and put your animals
through their paces, for the applause of my people. I command you to
appear before us this day week and do your sprightliest. It is not
often that we have the honor of entertaining a mountebank at court."
He spoke the word "mountebank" sneeringly, and John flushed. But
seeing the Hermit sitting with downcast eyes, he merely answered:--
"I shall obey your Majesty's commands."
"Then that is settled," said the King, with a grunt of satisfaction.
"And you,"--he turned to the Prince,--"you will then be strong enough
to sit at my side on the throne. It is well."
He quite ignored the little daughter who with a pale face shrank in one
corner. With one last glance at the group, the King swept from the
balcony.
"A fete!" said the Prince, clapping his hands. "A grand fete in your
honor, my kind friends. That will be rare sport! John, you shall make
the whole city laugh, even as you have cured me."
"I shall do my best," answered John. "Yes, I will teach some of my
little friends new tricks for that fete." And he laughed as he thought
how the Prince and Princess would stare when they saw Bruin dance.
John and the Prince left the balcony arm in arm, to talk over the plans
for the fete. But the Hermit still sat with bent brows, thinking.
"Why did he call John a mountebank?" he asked himself. "He hates us.
He is planning some mischief, I believe. It is time we were back in
our Animal Kingdom."
He looked up. The Princess was touching his arm and her face was very
pale. "Father," she said, for so the royal children loved to call the
good old man. "Father, there is mischief in the air. Oh! do be on
your guard. For I think it would break my heart if anything should
happen to you or to dear John."
The Hermit stroked her hair gently. "Dear child," he said, "we will
take care of him, you and I and the animals."
XXV
THE FETE
The day for the festival came at last. The Prince was now quite strong
and well, and had taken a joyous part in the preparations. The palace
was decorated with flowers; bands were playing, fountains splashing in
the courtyard; banquets were spread at all hours for any one who would
partake. The palace was merrier than it had been for years; and the
centre of all the joy, the core of the day's happiness, was John. His
praise was on every one's lips. His name, even more often than the
young Prince's whose health they were celebrating, was spoken in love
and tenderness.
But all this John did not seem to know. He only saw that every one was
very kind; that the world might be a very happy place to live in, if
love ruled the kingdoms of it. And he made ready for his share in the
merrymaking with a light heart. It was great fun to play at being a
mountebank once more for the people who loved him! Yet he was not
sorry that the next day he and the Hermit were going back to the
kingdom in the forest. He was longing for the peace and quiet of the
woods, and the little wild friends who awaited them there.
The King he never saw. That monarch seemed anxious to keep out of his
way as far as possible. John did not know that he and the Hermit were
being carefully watched by the King's spies, and that they were really
prisoners in the palace. For they were treated honorably, and the King
sent word that John must ask for whatever he wished to make his
performance a success.
John asked for little. Upon one thing, however, he had set his heart.
He had made for that occasion a tumbler's suit of green silk, with
trunks of cloth-of-gold--just such a suit as Gigi had worn when he was
one of the mountebank company. But the boy who pranced gaily about the
palace in this gorgeous attire was a very different fellow from the
sad-eyed little Gigi. John was tall and sturdy and full of life. His
eyes sparkled with fun and good humor, and looked at the world frankly
as if expecting kindness from every one. So much had five years of
love and humanity done for the little wanderer.
When John appeared in the courtyard ready for his performance, dressed
in the familiar colors of long ago, he could not help chuckling to
think how things had changed with him. Instead of Cecco and the Giant,
by his side waddled the great bear on his hind legs; while Brutus
walked sedately on his other side, and the gaunt wolf stalked behind.
The park was thronged with people, soldiers and citizens and peasants
from the country, jostling one another for a sight of John and his
pets,--and whispering among themselves with an excitement which John
could not understand. For after all he was going to give a simple
little show of tumbling such as they must have seen many times. "It is
the animals," he thought. "It must be the animals that they are so
eager to see."
John walked along, smiling into the faces which met his kindly, and the
brown spot on his eyelid gave him the mischievous look which always
made folk laugh. It was amid a ripple of good-natured laughter that he
and his pets made their way to the platform which had been erected in
front of the palace. Here on a high seat sat the King, and beside him
the Prince, with a flush of pleasure on his thin cheeks. Gaily dressed
lords and ladies stood about the throne. But somewhat apart and
surrounded by his pets sat the Hermit in his gray robe, with folded
arms. His hood was pulled over his face so that John could not see how
grave he was. Two armed men stood behind him, but by his side, with
her hand on his shoulder, was the little Princess. John smiled at her,
when he bowed low to the people on the platform. And the little maid
answered with a flash of affection; but her face was very pale, and her
hand trembled on the Hermit's shoulder.
John led forward his animals and they began their tricks. The Hermit
saw the Prince start when Bruin appeared. Evidently he recognized the
animal which he had once tried to kill. Merrily John urged the clumsy
fellow to dance, and every one laughed heartily at the sight. Only the
King sat grim and sullen.
[Illustration: John urged the clumsy fellow to dance.]
Then John put a plumed hat on the bear's head, took his arm, and the
two strutted about the platform like a pair of dandies. The audience
burst into roars of mirth. Even the Hermit's sides were shaking, and
the little Princess rocked to and fro with merriment.
Straight up to the Prince marched the twain, and at John's command the
bear bowed and held out his hand politely.
"He salutes you, his brother," said John to the Prince. "He begs you
to be friends with him always."
The Prince bowed in return, with a bright flush in his cheeks. "I
salute you, brother," he replied. "Never again will I hunt you or any
animal, wherever I may be."
From the foremost of the crowd who heard these words came a loud
"Hurrah!" and caps were tossed in the air. Evidently the Prince's
sentiment was popular in the city.
"Tut, tut!" said the King, "we will see about that!" He bit his lip
and bent a frown upon the group before him. The Hermit saw him whisper
a word into the ear of one of his courtiers, who bowed and disappeared.
Now John put Brutus and the wolf through their tricks, which were
wonderful indeed; for the dog was very intelligent, and had learned all
that the best educated dog nowadays can do, and more beside. Then the
wolf's leaping was a thing to wonder at, he was so lithe and strong.
Over Brutus he leaped, over John's head, over the bear, over John
standing on the bear's broad back.
At the end the Prince applauded heartily, and calling up the dog and
the wolf, placed a golden collar about the neck of each.
"Good friends," said the Prince, "you helped to save my life, you and
your brothers, and your masters. I give you these. But them I never
can repay if I live to be as old as Noah, who was the first to gather
pets about him. I hope that in time there may be many pets throughout
the kingdom."
He glanced timidly at the King.
"Hurrah!" shouted the people. "Long live the Prince. Long live John
and his animals! Hurrah! Hurrah!"
"No more of this!" The King made a gesture, and the shouting stopped,
changing into sullen murmurs. The King was not popular, it seemed.
"Let the performance proceed!" he commanded. "I do not like these
interruptions."
Once more the Hermit saw him whisper to a servant, who went away
quickly on some mysterious errand.
Now, with a happy face, John himself stepped forward and showed his
skill and strength and grace. He turned somersaults backward and
forward; he stood upon his head and danced upon his hands. He did all
the old tricks which he had learned of the tumblers, and more of his
own invention, till the people shouted rapturously, "Bravo! Bravo!
Hurrah for our John!"
With his eye on the Prince, John began to caper at his merriest. He
danced high, leaping like a grasshopper, and seeming to bound like
thistledown. All the while his eyes twinkled, and the people laughed
with delight.
"Bravo! John, bravo!" shouted the Prince, clapping his hands. "Come
here and let me decorate you, my friend." And as John bowed before him
the Prince placed upon his bosom a beautiful star of diamonds that
gleamed and sparkled like a cobweb full of dew.
"Hurrah! Hurrah! Long life to John! John! John!" shouted the
people, as if they loved the name.
And the Hermit saw that the King turned pale and shook with wrath at
the sound. The next moment he grasped the arms of his chair and stared
into the crowd eagerly.
Suddenly he arose, and, waving his sceptre, commanded silence. John
bowed and turned to the King, waiting to hear his pleasure. But
instead of the speech which every one expected, they saw the King
gazing down into the crowd before him, and on his lips was a malicious
smile. But he looked very old and sick, and he tottered as he held to
the arm of his throne.
XXVI
THE TALISMAN
John turned his head to see at what the King was staring. There was a
movement in the crowd. Men were being elbowed forward. A noise of
harsh voices arose, and to the platform crowded three figures in rags
and tatters.
They forced their way directly in front of the platform, and stood
staring up. John stepped forward to see what it meant, and in a moment
fell back with a cry of dismay. He was looking into the eyes of Cecco,
Tonio and the Giant!
"Hi! Master Gigi!" cried Tonio's hateful voice; "so here we find you
setting up as a tumbler on your own account. Your Majesty," he cried,
appealing to the King, who was listening with a wicked grin on his
face, "this is our boy. We own him. He ran away, but he belongs to
us. Give him to us again!"
The little Princess screamed and clung to the Hermit's arm; but he sat
motionless, watching. The people began to murmur and jostle the three
strangers. But the King raised his hand, and they listened to him.
"We will hear these men," he said. Then, turning to John, he added
smoothly, "And after that, sirrah, you shall answer for yourself."
The Hermit rose and took a step forward, still holding the little
Princess by the hand. Brutus broke away from the page who held him,
and crouched growling at John's side.
Then Tonio raised his voice, and cried louder, pointing at John with
his skinny hand. "He is our boy," he said. "We taught him his trade;
let him deny it. Now he is robbing us of our fair dues. He is a
runaway. Give him back to us!"
Still John stared at him, too dazed to answer. But the Hermit took
another step forward, and said sternly:--
"He is your boy, you say. How did you come by him?"
"We bought him for a gold piece," they said in chorus. "That was years
ago. For ten years he traveled with us. And then he ran away. His
life is ours; let him deny it if he can!"
John stood silent, horrified at the fate which seemed to confront him.
For in those days children who were bought and sold in this cruel way
were the slaves of the masters who had purchased them.
The Prince had fallen back, pale and trembling. But the King now spoke
again, gazing with malicious eyes upon the two wood-folk whom he hated.
"What have you to say for yourselves?" he asked. "You who do not deny
that you are a runaway; you, old man, who stole the lad and must be
punished most severely therefor, have you any reason why I should not
give the one of you up to these mountebanks, his lawful masters, and
the other of you to punishment and death? Speak!" The King's voice
was harsh and cruel. His eyes glittered fiercely.
Still John was silent.
"Seize him!" commanded the King. "Seize them both! Off with them to
prison!"
The guards stepped forward, unwillingly enough. But at that moment
John drew himself up. His eyes flashed; he grasped in both hands the
staff over which he had made the wolf leap, and braced himself for
defense.
"They shall not take me!" he cried. "I will not go with them. I will
die sooner. To me, my brothers!" and he gave a shrill, peculiar cry by
which he and the Hermit were wont to call their pets.
[Illustration: To me, my brothers!]
Instantly the Hermit ranged himself at John's side. At the same moment
Brutus placed himself, barking and growling, before the twain.
Breaking from the leash by which he was held, the wolf came leaping
towards them, and stood bristling beside the dog, showing his terrible
fangs. With a savage growl Bruin burst his chain and came lumbering to
the defense of his friends, and the three devoted animals made a stout
and terrible wall about them. But this was not all. From the corners
where they were crouched came running the other, gentler pets. Here
scampered the cat and her kittens, mewing pitifully. Across the
platform hopped the raven. The carrier pigeon fluttered to the
Hermit's shoulder. And from the trees all roundabout came winging,
with a call answering to John's, a flock of birds who had followed him
from the forest, and who had been hidden in the forbidden trees of the
King's park until this very hour. They fluttered like a cloud about
the heads of the pair, so that one could scarcely see them.
Every one stood amazed; even the King sank back in his seat, stupefied.
The guards fell back with lowered weapons. The crowd was silent,
staring open-mouthed. Then a murmur arose, and words passed from man
to man.
"A miracle! It is a miracle! They must be God's saints!"
But Tonio was not long silent. "Tricks! Tricks!" he cried. "Gigi has
become an animal-trainer. But he is our boy still. Give him to us!"
"Seize them!" repeated the King in a choking voice.
Once more the guards made a rush forward. But the animals leaped up
and stood at bay so fiercely that they dared not come nearer. The
Hermit raised his hand, and there was sudden silence. He faced the
King and spoke sternly.
"O King," he said, "you see that they will never take us alive. In
sight of all these people will you add more deaths to your record?"
The murmur of the crowd grew louder. "Nay, all has not yet been said,"
he went on. "Listen, O King. You judge too quickly. There is not
proof enough of the lad's ownership."
"Not enough?" snarled the King. "I say there is enough and to spare.
Can this boy dispute the words of these men?"
John now looked at the Hermit eagerly. His heart beat with hope of
something, he knew not what.
The King sneered. "You see!" he cried triumphantly.
But once more the Hermit held up his hand. "Will you not question
these fellows further?" he asked. "Dare you hear more, O King?"
"Dare I!" blustered the King, "and why not, pray? If there be more to
say, tell it," he commanded the mountebanks.
"Ay," they answered eagerly, "we can indeed prove that the boy is ours."
"Tell how you came by him," interrupted the Hermit, in a tone not to be
disobeyed.
Tonio answered sullenly:--
"We have told already. We bought him for a gold piece, of a fisherman
on a distant coast. He had found the babe, nearly dead with cold and
hunger, floating in a basket on the sea. It was a castaway, a
foundling; no one wanted it. We took it away with us, and had hard
work to make it live."
"Is that all?" asked the Hermit. "Was there nothing to prove that this
is the same child?" He said this in a loud voice so that every one
could hear.
"Proof!" cried Tonio, shaking his fist at John fiercely. "Who can
mistake him in that suit, the very one we gave him? Look at his mop of
yellow tow and his eye with the brown spot over it. No one who has
seen it could forget that spot. Ay, there is still another way to
prove him ours. I see the gleam of silver around his neck. He still
wears the chain and the bit of silver which he dares not remove,
because there is magic in it, they say. It was on his neck when the
fisherman found him. Look, and see if we do not say truth!"
John still stood motionless, looking in the Hermit's face. But at
these last words the old man stepped behind him and drew the silver
talisman from the boy's breast, laying it out on his green silk bosom,
where it glittered for all to see.
Cecco and Tonio and the Giant gave a cry of triumph. But from the
crowd behind them rose a murmur of different meaning. Men began to
crowd forward eagerly.
"Yes, look!" cried the Hermit, pointing at the medal. "The Cross of
the good man John, the friend of King Cyril! Which of you does not
know and love it?"
The murmur of the crowd swelled into a shout,--"Who is he? Who is the
lad? We will know!"
"Who but John," answered the Hermit, with kindling eyes. "Who but
John, the good man's son,--my brother's son. I know, for I christened
the child, and I saw the King hang this Cross about the baby's neck, a
Cross like the one he had given John himself. This is the child who
disappeared fourteen years ago. The King sent him away to be killed.
But the servant to whom the task fell was less cruel. The child was
set adrift on the ocean, and escaped as you have heard. Will you let
him be lost again?"
"No! No!" roared the crowd. "He shall not go! He shall not go!" And
they seized the three mountebanks and hustled them away.