“High society, balls and masques,” said Tom.
“Fine ladies and gentlemen making merry while the poor starves,” said Lee.
“I am sorry that that should be so,” said the hunchback gravely.
“’Tis no fault of yours. The poor stands together … times like these. Where are you making for?”
“We are joining our master’s household at Dover.”
“And all on foot!” cried Lee, “with a child to carry!”
“That’s how the rich look after their servants,” added his wife.
“We have to be there tomorrow,” said Tom, “to set the house in order. We’ve little time to lose.”
“A nice way to treat you!” the woman went on grumbling. “Walking all the way! Where have you come from?”
“Well …” began Tom; but the hunchback said quickly: “From London.”
“And carrying a child all that way!”
“The child is mine … mine and my husband’s,” said the hunchback. “We are glad to be able to have him with us.”
“Why,” said Lee, “you ought to get the stage wagon. That’s where we’re going now. To Tonbridge to catch the wagon.”
“Lee’s a much traveled man,” said his wife admiringly.
“Yes. I don’t mind telling you it’s not the first time I’ve traveled on the stage wagon. Once I went from Holborn to Chester … traveling the whole of six days. Two miles the hour and a halfpenny the mile, a wagoner to hold the horses and lead them all the way while you sat on the floor of the wagon like a lord. ’Tis a wondrous thing to travel. Hist! I think I hear riders coming this way.”
The hunchback shrank nearer to her friends as once again her hand hovered over the sleeping child. They were all silent for some seconds while the sound of horses’ hoofs grew louder; and soon a party of riders came into sight. They were soberly dressed and their hair scarcely covered their ears, thus proclaiming them to be soldiers of the Parliamentary forces.
“God go with you!” called Lee.
“God be with you, friend,” answered the rider at the head of the cavalcade.
The dust raised by the horses’ hoofs made the hunchback cough; the child started to whimper. “All is well,” murmured the hunchback. “All is well. Sleep on.”
“I heard,” said Lee’s wife, “that the King won’t hold out much longer. They say he’s gone to Scotland. He hadn’t a chance after Naseby. Best thing he could do would be to join the Frenchwoman in France.”
“Mayhap he would not wish to leave his country,” said Tom.
“Better for him to leave for France than the next world,” put in Lee with a laugh.
The child sat up and gazed at the Lees with an expression of candid distaste.
“All is well,” said the hunchback hastily. She put her arm round the child and pressed its little face against her.
“No, no, no!” cried the child, wriggling away.
“A fine temper,” said Lee’s wife.
“It’s so hot,” replied the hunchback.
“I see you spoil him,” said Lee.
“Let’s have a look at the little ’un,” said his wife. She took hold of the child’s ragged sleeve. The child tried to shake her off, but she only laughed, and that seemed to enrage the little creature. “You’re a spoiled baby, you are,” went on the woman. “You’ll never grow into a fine soldier to fight for General Fairfax, you won’t. What’s your name?”
“Princess,” said the child haughtily.
“Princess!” cried Lee. “That’s a strange name for a little boy.”
“It is Pierre, Monsieur,” said the hunchback quickly.
“That in English is Peter,” added Gaston.
“He does not speak the very good English,” went on the hunchback. “His words are not very clear. We talk to him sometimes in our own tongue … sometimes in English … and our English, as you see, Madame, is sometimes not very good.”
“Princess!” repeated the child. “Me … Princess!”
There was silence while all looked at the child. The Lees in puzzlement; the four companions of the child as though they had been struck temporarily lifeless. In the distance could be heard the sound of retreating horses’ hoofs. Then the hunchback seemed to come to a decision; she rose and took the child firmly by the hand.
“We must go,” she said. “We shall not reach our lodging by nightfall if we stay longer. Come, my friends. And good day to both of you. A pleasant journey and thank you for your company.”
The other three had risen with her. They closed about the child.
“Good day to you,” murmured the Lees.
The child turned to take a last look at them, and the big black eyes showed an angry defiance as the lips formed the words: “Princess. Me … Princess!”
They did not speak until they had put some distance between themselves and the man and woman on the bank. The hunchback had picked up the child so that they might more quickly escape.
At length Nell said: “For the moment I was ready to run.”
“That would have been unwise,” said the hunchback. “That would have been the worst thing we could have done.”
“If we could only make … the boy understand!”
“I have often been relieved because he is so young … too young to understand; and yet if only we could explain…. But how could one so young be expected to understand?”
The child, knowing itself to be the subject of discussion, was listening eagerly. The hunchback noticed this and said: “What will there be to eat at this inn of yours, Tom? Mayhap a little duck or snipe … peacock, kid, venison. Mayhap lampreys and sturgeon …”
“We must remember our stations,” said the hunchback.
The child wished to bring the conversation back to itself. The little hands beat the hunchback. “Nan … Nan …” said the child. “Dirty Nan! Don’t like dirty Nan.”
“Hush, dearest, hush!” said the hunchback.
“Want to go home. Want clean Nan … not dirty Nan.”
“Dearest, be good. Only a little while longer. Remember you are Pierre … my little boy.”
“Little girl!” said the child.
“No, dearest, no! You are Pierre … Pierre for Peter.”
“No Pierre! No Pierre!” chanted the child. “Dirty Nan! Black lady! Want to get down.”
“Try to sleep, my darling.”
“No sleep! No sleep!”
Two soldiers had rounded the bend and were coming toward the party, who immediately fell silent; but just as the two men drew level with them, the child called to them: “Me … Princess. Dirty frock … not mine … Me … Princess!”
They stopped. The hunchback smiled, but beneath the grime and dust her face grew a shade paler.
“What was it the little one said?” asked one of the soldiers.
It was the hunchback who answered. “Your pardon, Messieurs. I and my husband do not speak the English very well. Nor does our son. He is telling you his name is Pierre. That is Peter in English.”
One of the soldiers said: “I thought the boy said he was a Princess.”
The child smiled dazzlingly and chanted: “Princess! Princess! Don’t like black lady. Want clean Nan.”
The soldiers looked at each other and exchanged smiles. One of them brought his face near to that of the child. “So you’re a Princess, eh, young fellow?” he said. “I’ll tell you something.” He nodded his head in the direction of his companion. “He’s Oliver Cromwell and I’m Prince Charley.”
“Forgive, Monsieur,” said the hunchback quickly. “We mean no harm. We are walking to Dover to the house of our master.”
“To Dover, eh!” said the soldier. “You’re on the right road but you’ve many hours’ journey before you yet.”
“Then we must hasten.”
The second soldier was smiling at the child. “Listen to me, little ’un,” he said. “’Tis better in these days to be the son of a hunchback than the daughter of a King.”