It was men such as these merchants and their apprentices who would stand beside him against his enemies, he believed. He did not want them there because they feared not to join him; he wanted to understand them, to talk with them, to have them work for him and give him loyalty not because it was treason not to, but because they wanted to.
He wanted to know the people he would one day rule. That was one reason why he mingled with them. The other was that he enjoyed the sport of it. He liked to spend a night with a woman who thought he was a young apprentice and who had no idea that briefly she enjoyed the privilege of sharing her bed with the Prince of Wales.
It was adventure that appealed to his youth and high spirits; and because there was danger in it, he liked it the better.
"Hist," said John Oldcastle. "I hear revellers."
" 'Tis they," whispered Harry. "I know their voices. Let's take them from behind."
They crouched by the wall. Three young men came by, courtiers in their velvet. One held a pomander, sniffing it purposefully.
Harry laughed inwardly. He heard one say: "Methinks the Prince has little taste."
"He'll have a surprise when he sees us," said another.
"Now! " whispered Harry.
They had caught two of the young men from behind. The one with the pomander dropped it and cried out: "Help. We are set upon. Thieves."
Harry laughed. It showed how little he knew of the London streets. Such a cry was enough to set everyone bolting their doors.
There was a scuffle. They were after all three to two. Harry was agile but not agile enough. He caught a strong blow in the ribs which left him breathless, but he was quick to respond and sent his opponent down to the ground.
He then tackled the gentleman with the pomander, who was easy prey.
"Their purses" he whispered to Oldcastle. And in a few seconds they were running through the dark streets with three purses in their possession.
Harry leaned against a wall and burst out laughing.
"Tomorrow" he said, "they will tell a fine tale."
They did not go back to the tavern that night.
The next day Harry enquired how his friends had received their bruises and expressed deep concern when they told him they had been set upon in East Cheap by a pack of ruffians.
"The streets are unsafe by night" said Harry with a show of concern.
Oldcastle added: " 'Tis unsafe to wander in them unarmed. Did you have nothing to defend yourself?"
"My good sir, try to defend yourself when set on by a gang."
"Were there many of them?" asked Harry solemnly.
"I'd say we were outnumbered three to one."
"No chance against so many" muttered Oldcastle.
"A plague on them, they had our purses."
"And you cannot afford the loss, I'll swear," said Harry. "Who of us can? I'll be generous. You're good fellows and brave. I'll swear you gave a good account of yourself. You will allow me to reimburse you."
The three adventurers declared themselves reluctant to rob the Prince.
"Come, come. You have been robbed."
Harry was almost hysterical with suppressed mirth as he handed back their own money.
When they were alone Sir John said: "I believe you gave more to one of them than the other two."
"You know why. He was the one who hit me in the ribs. I thought he should be rewarded for showing more fight than the others."
They had enjoyed the adventure so much that they decided to repeat it. Secrecy was a necessity.
"It's dangerous," said Sir John. "Who knows, someone of them may get the better of us."
"That's why it is exciting, you old buffoon."
Sometimes there was some rough fighting, but the more the attacked fought back the better Harry liked it.
It was his favourite game until someone detected that he was the instigator. From then on the game had lost its savour.
But there were always ways of amusing themselves in the taverns and the streets of London.
Harry had a servant of whom he was somewhat fond. He knew the fellow for a rogue but he was a merry one; and his unscrupulous behaviour amused the Prince. One day it occurred to him that he had not seen Bardolph for a few days and he asked where he was.
"My lord," was the answer, "he has been arrested."
"Arrested for what cause?"
"Some felony, my lord. It was of a certainty that he would be caught one day."
"Why was I not told? Is he not my servant?"
"Twas an offence which brought him before the Chief Justice, my lord."
"Before Gascoigne! Why he stands a chance of hanging then. I won't lose Bardolph to a hangman, that I swear."
"My lord, he comes up for trial this day."
"Then I shall leave at once for the courts."
He was as good as his word and impetuously he rode out. At the King's Bench sat Sir William Gascoigne—a man in his late fifties, dignified, deeply aware of the importance of his office and known throughout the country for his incorruptible determination to administer justice to high and low alike.
There was a commotion in court as Harry appeared and the judge called for order.
Harry went forward. He had seen his servant Bardolph.
"There stands my servant," he said. "I wish him to be released at once. If he has done aught which deserves punishment it is for me to administer it."
The judge surveyed the heated face of the young Prince calmly.
"You are wrong, my lord. This man's crime is one against society and it comes within my jurisdiction."
"You forget, my lord judge, to whom you speak."
"I speak in the name of the King," replied Sir William Gascoigne, "and I order you, his subject, to leave the court."
Harry was furious. He drew his sword and advanced on the judge, who sat still calmly watching him. There was a hushed silence. Many thought they were about to witness the murder of the Chief Justice by the Prince of Wales.
Then Sir William spoke. "Sir," he said, "remember I keep here the place of your sovereign lord and father to whom you owe double obedience. I charge you in his name, desist from your wilfulness and unlawful conduct. From henceforth, I beg of you, give a good example to those who in the future shall be your subjects. For your contempt and disobedience of the King's Bench you will go to prison where I shall commit you, and remain there until the pleasure of your father the King shall be known"
Harry was startled into silence. All he had to do was thrust his sword through the heart of this judge who had gone so far as to commit him, the Prince of Wales, to prison, yet he hesitated.
His anger faded suddenly as he began to see this incident clearly through the eyes of a bystander. If a King was going to maintain justice his courts must not be held in contempt. No one, whatever his rank, should burst in and demand the release of a prisoner. That way lay anarchy and as one who was going to wear the crown, his first duty was to maintain the laws of the land.
He laid down his sword and bowing to the judge he said: "You are right. You must do with me as you will. I ask your pardon and that of the court."
Sir William was clearly impressed by the wisdom of the Prince. His voice was gentle as he said: "You will wait here in this court until I know the will of the King. Messengers shall go to him with all speed. In the meantime we will continue with the business of the court."
The King was in his bedchamber when the messenger arrived. He was in a melancholy mood; he was looking truth straight in the face and he believed he was not going to live very long. Nor did he want to with this terrible affliction which had come to him. That was not all. There was another ailment—or perhaps the two were connected. At times he would go into a swoon or it might be a trance and be unaware of where he was or what was going on about him. One night his attendants had thought he was dead.