CHAPTER III.
And what of the little lame prince, whom everybody seemed so easily tohave forgotten?
Not everybody. There were a few kind souls, mothers of families, who hadheard his sad story, and some servants about the palace, who had beenfamiliar with his sweet ways--these many a time sighed and said, "PoorPrince Dolor!" Or, looking at the Beautiful Mountains, which werevisible all over Nomansland, though few people ever visited them, "Well,perhaps his Royal Highness is better where he is."
They did not know that beyond the mountains, between them and the sea,lay a tract of country, level, barren, except for a short stunted grass,and here and there a patch of tiny flowers. Not a bush--not a tree--nota resting place for bird or beast in that dreary plain. It was not apleasant place to live.
The only sign that human creatures had ever been near the spot was alarge round tower which rose up in the centre of the plain. In form itresembled the Irish round towers, which have puzzled people for so long,nobody being able to find out when, or by whom they were made. It wascircular, of very firm brickwork, with neither doors nor windows, untilnear the top, when you could perceive some slits in the wall, throughwhich one could not possibly creep in or look out. Its height was nearlya hundred feet.
The plain was desolate, like a desert, only without sand, and led tonowhere except the still more desolate sea-coast; nobody ever crossedit. Whatever mystery there was about the tower, it and the sky and theplain kept to themselves.
It was a very great secret indeed, a state secret, which none but soclever a man as the present king of Nomansland would ever have thoughtof. How he carried it out, undiscovered, I cannot tell. People said,long afterwards, that it was by means of a gang of condemned criminals,who were set to work, and executed immediately after they had done, sothat nobody knew anything, or in the least suspected the real fact.
Within twenty feet of the top, some ingenious architect had planned aperfect little house, divided into four rooms. By making skylights, anda few slits in the walls for windows, and raising a peaked roof whichwas hidden by the parapet, here was a dwelling complete; eighty feetfrom the ground and hard to reach.
Inside it was furnished with all the comfort and elegance imaginable;with lots of books and toys, and everything that the heart of a childcould desire.
One winter night, when all the plain was white with moonlight, there wasseen crossing it, a great tall, black horse, ridden by a man also bigand equally black, carrying before him on the saddle a woman and achild. The sad fierce-looking woman was a criminal under sentence ofdeath, but her sentence had been changed. She was to inhabit the lonelytower with the child; she was to live as long as the child lived--nolonger. This, in order that she might take the utmost care of him; forthose who put him there were equally afraid of his dying and of hisliving. And yet he was only a little gentle boy, with a sweet smile. Hewas very tired with his long journey and was clinging to the man's neck,for he was rather frightened.
The tired little boy was Prince Dolor. He was not dead at all. His grandfuneral had been a pretence; a wax figure having been put in his place,while he was spirited away by the condemned woman and the black man. Thelatter was deaf and dumb, so could tell nothing.
When they reached the foot of the tower, there was light enough to seea huge chain dangling half way from the parapet. The deaf mute took fromhis saddle-wallet a sort of ladder, arranged in pieces like a puzzle,fitted it together, and lifted it up to meet the chain. Then he mountedto the top of the tower, and slung from it a chair, in which the womanand child placed themselves and were drawn up, never to come down again.The man descended the ladder, took it to pieces and disappeared acrossthe plain. Every month he came and fastened his horse to the foot of thetower and climbed it as before, laden with provisions and many otherthings. He always saw the Prince, so as to make sure that the child wasalive and well, and then went away until the following month.
Prince Dolor had every luxury that even a Prince could need, and the onething wanting--love, never having known, he did not miss. His nurse wasvery kind to him, though she was a wicked woman. Perhaps it made herbetter to be shut up with an innocent child.
By-and-by he began to learn lessons--not that his nurse had been orderedto teach him, but she did it partly to amuse herself. She was not astupid woman, and Prince Dolor was by no means a stupid child; so theygot on very well.
When he grew older he began reading the books which the mute brought tohim. As they told him of the things in the outside world he longed tosee them.
From this time a change came over the boy. He began to look sad andthin, and to shut himself up for hours without speaking. His nurse hadbeen forbidden, on pain of death, to tell him anything about himself. Heknew he was Prince Dolor, because she always addressed him as "Myprince" and "your Royal Highness," but what a prince was, he had not theleast idea.
He had been reading one day, but feeling all the while that to readabout things which you never can see is like hearing about a beautifuldinner while you are starving. He grew melancholy, gazing out of thewindow-slit.
Not a very cheerful view--just the plain and the sky--but he liked it.He used to think, if he could only fly out of that window, up to the skyor down to the plain, how nice it would be! Perhaps when he died--hisnurse had told him once in anger that he would never leave the towertill he died--he might be able to do this.
"And I wish I had somebody to tell me all about it; about that and manyother things; somebody that would be fond of me, like my poor whitekitten."
Here the tears came into his eyes, for the boy's one friend had been alittle white kitten, which the deaf mute, kindly smiling, once took outof his pocket and gave him. For four weeks it was his constant companionand plaything, till one moonlight night it took a fancy for wandering,climbed on to the parapet of the tower, dropped over and disappeared. Itwas not killed, he hoped; indeed, he almost fancied he saw it pickitself up and scamper away, but he never caught sight of it again.
"Yes, I wish I had a person, a real live person, who would be fond of meand kind to me. Oh, I want somebody--dreadfully, dreadfully!"
As he spoke, there sounded behind him a slight tap-tap-tap, as of acane, and twisting himself around, what do you think he saw? A curiouslittle woman, no bigger than he might himself have been, had his legsgrown, but she was not a child--she was an old woman with a sweet smileand a soft voice, and was carrying a cane.
"My own little boy," she said, "I could not come to you until you hadsaid you wanted me, but now you do want me, here I am."
"And you are very welcome, madam," replied the Prince. "May I ask youwho you are? Perhaps my mother?"
AND TWISTING HIMSELF AROUND, WHAT DO YOU THINK HE SAW?[PAGE 16.]]
"No, I am not your mother, though she was a dear friend of mine."
"Will you tell her to come and see me then?"
"She cannot; but I daresay she knows all about you and loves you. I loveyou, too, and I want to help you, my poor little boy."
"Why do you call me poor?" asked Prince Dolor in surprise.
The little old woman sighed and glanced down at his legs and feet, whichhe did not know were different from those of other children, and then tohis sweet, bright face.
"I beg your pardon, My Prince," said she.
"Yes, I am a prince, and my name is Dolor; will you tell me yours,madam?"
The little old woman laughed like a chime of silver bells.
"I have so many that I don't know which to choose. It was I who gave youyours, and you will belong to me all your days. I am your godmother."
"Hurrah!" cried the little prince; "I am glad I belong to you, for Ilike you very much."
So they sat down and played and talked together.
"Are you very lonesome here?" asked the little old woman.
"Not particularly, thank you, godmother. I have my lessons to do, and mybooks to read."
"And you want for nothing?"
"Nothing. Yes, godmother, please bring me a little boy
to play with?"
"Just the thing, alas, which I cannot give you."
His godmother took him in her arms and kissed him. By-and-by he kissedher at first awkwardly and shyly, then with all the strength of his warmlittle heart.
"Promise me that you will never go away, godmother."
"I must, but I will leave you a travelling cloak that will take youwherever you want to go, and show you all that you wish to see."
"I don't need a cloak, for I never go out."
"Hush! the nurse is coming."
A grumpy voice and a rattle of plates and dishes was heard.
"It's my nurse, bringing my dinner; but I don't want dinner. I only wantyou. Will her coming drive you away, godmother?"
"Only for a while, only wish for me and I will return."
When the door opened, Prince Dolor shut his eyes; opening them again,nobody but his nurse was in the room, as his godmother had melted away.
"Such a heap of untidy books; and what's this rubbish?" said she,kicking a little bundle that lay beside them.
"Give it to me," cried the Prince; and reaching after it, he hid itunder his pinafore.
It was, though she did not know this, his wonderful travelling-cloak.