“Order… Order thine servant…” he muttered, quivering.
“You are to set Miserlix free at once!” commanded the Prince.
“At once, my lord!”
“And send out men to arrest the High Chancellor and throw him into prison in his place, for you know well that it was he who stole the chickens, and not Miserlix.”
Master Faintheart fell on his knees.
“My lord, spare me! Do not ask of me such things. Who told you the truth I do not know, but if you know this much, you certainly know more! Cunningson is a powerful man! How could I possibly arrest him?”
“He is a thief!”
“Yet he has many florins!”
“How did he come by them? He has nothing!”
“He has the control of the palace coffers. He does as he likes!”
“He has nothing, I tell you. He was obliged to sell his golden chain of state in order to provide food for the palace for two days — for all that the chain is not even his to sell, but only the insignia of his rank. Yet, even if he did have many florins, this should not hinder you from arresting him.”
Master Faintheart began to whimper.
“I cannot, he will destroy me, he is the High Chancellor, and has the King’s full trust. Heed my words, and spare me, for in truth I know not myself what course to take! When Miserlix came to me and voiced his grievances, and described to me the palace courtier who had thrown him downhill and robbed him of his haversack, at once I realized who it was, for he wore, as he said, a chain. The whole affair caused me great distress, because I did not wish to find myself up against the High Chancellor, and my desire was to convince Miserlix to keep this quiet. Yet in vain! That one wanted justice to be done, and would not be quietened down!”
“Good for him!” said the Prince. “It would have been most cowardly had he kept silent!”
“So then,” continued Master Faintheart, “I sent word immediately to Cunningson in secret, to tell him to return the stolen sack, so that Miserlix might then keep quiet. Only, he rushed here at once, and told me that unless I found a way to throw Miserlix into prison, he would charge me with stealing the chain myself, and then I would have my head cut off.”
“You are a coward! Why would you alert him in secret?”
“I was afraid of him!”
“You should not have been afraid! No one would have believed that you had stolen the chain, since he himself has sold it to provide food for the palace.”
“He did not sell it on behalf of the palace,” said the Judge in a very small voice. “And they would have certainly believed that I had stolen it myself.”
“How is that so?”
“Because… because he had given the chain to me, to sell on his behalf… I made out a document in his name… and because… the chain… I still had it in my house.”
“From this sale, then, you yourself received no profit?” asked the Prince, stressing each syllable one by one.
The Judge did not reply, only bowed his head even lower.
With arms crossed, the Prince stood gazing at the man as he knelt before him, most utterly contemptible, humiliated.
“You are right to be afraid,” he said at last, filling his voice with all the disgust that swelled up in his heart. “One blackguard cannot pass judgement on another blackguard. You two are birds of a feather!”
And, seizing a horsewhip that hung on the walclass="underline"
“March ahead,” he commanded angrily. “Take your keys and open the door of the prison at once, or else your shoulders shall know whether this sting has the power to hurt or not!”
Trembling from head to toe, out came the Judge; he went to the jailor’s house, took the keys, and from there proceeded to the prison.
The Prince and Little Irene had gone with him.
Outside the door, down on the dusty earth, a girl wailed inconsolably.
The Prince recognized her.
“Do not cry,” he said compassionately. “Your father will return home to you this evening. Go in and take him.”
Master Faintheart opened the door and the girl threw herself at her father’s neck, pulling him outside.
“To whom do I owe my freedom?” asked Miserlix with a tremulous voice, once he had recovered from the first surge of emotions.
“To this boy,” answered the girl, pointing at the Prince.
Miserlix bowed and kissed the threadbare, gold-embroidered robes.
“May the heavens repay you for it!” he said, and his heart was in his words. “If ever you may need a true friend, remember me.”
And, supporting himself upon his daughter’s arm, he walked towards his house.
“Now go and eat your mackerel,” said the Prince contemptuously to the Judge, “and never again show yourself before me, for I will have you know that you won’t escape the horse’s whip a second time.”
Master Faintheart did not wait to be told twice, and took to his heels.
It was now completely dark. Brother and sister, hungry, tired, dragged their feet onwards.
“Where do we go now?” asked Little Irene.
“To the palace,” her brother replied. “I must settle Master Cunningson’s affairs.”
And they took the way uphill, climbing the mountain.
V. The Gift of the King the Royal Uncle
NO SOONER had they approached the palace than they heard angry voices and snivelling whimpers.
“It was her, she is the one who tore my scarf!” Jealousia was screaming.
“And I shall also scratch and tear at your face!” came the riposte of Spitefulnia.
“Same as ever!” said the Prince sorrowfully.
And the two siblings hurried onwards to enter the palace, where the screams could be heard louder and louder.
Inside the room the sight was heart-rending. The two sisters, bereft of scarves and enraged, held one another by the hair and were hitting each other with mad fury. With his head thrown back so he could see from underneath his crown, which had slipped all the way down to the tip of his nose, the King was striving to separate them, while one of the maids-in-waiting, the fair, chubby one, lay asleep on the threadbare cushions of the sofa, utterly undisturbed by all the racket and commotion; and the other, scrawny and dark, profiting from the general upheaval, was gobbling down an apple pie which had been served for the King.
Seated on the floor, the Queen busied herself with the embellishment of her skirt, using shards of glass from a broken bottle and taking no notice of the general mayhem around her. By her side stood the High Chancellor with two equerries, each of whom was holding a covered basket, waiting for the squabble to cease, so they might hold audience with the King.
Little Irene threw herself between her sisters.
“Stop, in God’s name, stop!” she pleaded. “Your antics are most shameful! Your screams can be heard far beyond the palace walls!”
The princesses stopped, startled, and each let go of the other’s hair.
“Where did you come from, little one?” they asked, both at once.
The King lifted the crown from his nose, and smiled at Little Irene.
“Welcome, you!” he said, pacified. “Have you been out for a stroll? We have not seen you at all today.”
The Queen, busy with her shards of glass, did not even turn to look.
“She was with me,” said the Prince. “And I wish to have a word with you at once, father.”
“Is that so? You are here too? And where might you have been wandering?” asked the King.
“In many places,” replied the Prince. “And I have learnt a few things that you need to know.”