THE YOUNG KING
[TO MARGARET LADY BROOKE--THE
RANEE OF SARAWAK]
It was the night before the day
fixed for his coronation, and the young King was sitting alone in
his beautiful chamber. His courtiers had all taken their leave
of him, bowing their heads to the ground, according to the
ceremonious usage of the day, and had retired to the Great Hall of
the Palace, to receive a few last lessons from the Professor of
Etiquette; there being some of them who had still quite natural
manners, which in a courtier is, I need hardly say, a very grave
offence.
The lad--for he was only a lad,
being but sixteen years of age--was not sorry at their departure,
and had flung himself back with a deep sigh of relief on the soft
cushions of his embroidered couch, lying there, wild-eyed and
open-mouthed, like a brown woodland Faun, or some young animal of
the forest newly snared by the hunters.
And, indeed, it was the hunters
who had found him, coming upon him almost by chance as, bare-limbed
and pipe in hand, he was following the flock of the poor goatherd
who had brought him up, and whose son he had always fancied himself
to be. The child of the old King's only daughter by a secret
marriage with one much beneath her in station--a stranger, some
said, who, by the wonderful magic of his lute-playing, had made the
young Princess love him; while others spoke of an artist from
Rimini, to whom the Princess had shown much, perhaps too much
honour, and who had suddenly disappeared from the city, leaving his
work in the Cathedral unfinished--he had been, when but a week old,
stolen away from his mother's side, as she slept, and given into
the charge of a common peasant and his wife, who were without
children of their own, and lived in a remote part of the forest,
more than a day's ride from the town. Grief, or the plague, as the
court physician stated, or, as some suggested, a swift Italian
poison administered in a cup of spiced wine, slew, within an hour
of her wakening, the white girl who had given him birth, and as the
trusty messenger who bare the child across his saddle-bow stooped
from his weary horse and knocked at the rude door of the goatherd's
hut, the body of the Princess was being lowered into an open grave
that had been dug in a deserted churchyard, beyond the city gates,
a grave where it was said that another body was also lying, that of
a young man of marvellous and foreign beauty, whose hands were tied
behind him with a knotted cord, and whose breast was stabbed with
many red wounds.
Such, at least, was the story
that men whispered to each other. Certain it was that the old
King, when on his deathbed, whether moved by remorse for his great
sin, or merely desiring that the kingdom should not pass away from
his line, had had the lad sent for, and, in the presence of the
Council, had acknowledged him as his heir.
And it seems that from the very
first moment of his recognition he had shown signs of that strange
passion for beauty that was destined to have so great an influence
over his life. Those who accompanied him to the suite of rooms set
apart for his service, often spoke of the cry of pleasure that
broke from his lips when he saw the delicate raiment and rich
jewels that had been prepared for him, and of the almost fierce joy
with which he flung aside his rough leathern tunic and coarse
sheepskin cloak. He missed, indeed, at times the fine freedom of
his forest life, and was always apt to chafe at the tedious Court
ceremonies that occupied so much of each day, but the wonderful
palace--Joyeuse, as they called it--of which he now found himself
lord, seemed to him to be a new world fresh- fashioned for his
delight; and as soon as he could escape from the council-board or
audience-chamber, he would run down the great staircase, with its
lions of gilt bronze and its steps of bright porphyry, and wander
from room to room, and from corridor to corridor, like one who was
seeking to find in beauty an anodyne from pain, a sort of
restoration from sickness.
Upon these journeys of discovery,
as he would call them--and, indeed, they were to him real voyages
through a marvellous land, he would sometimes be accompanied by the
slim, fair-haired Court pages, with their floating mantles,
and gay fluttering ribands; but more often he would be alone,
feeling through a certain quick instinct, which was almost a
divination, that the secrets of art are best learned in secret, and
that Beauty, like Wisdom, loves the lonely worshipper.
Many curious stories were related
about him at this period. It was said that a stout Burgo-master,
who had come to deliver a florid oratorical address on behalf of
the citizens of the town, had caught sight of him kneeling in real
adoration before a great picture that had just been brought from
Venice, and that seemed to herald the worship of some new gods. On
another occasion he had been missed for several hours, and after a
lengthened search had been discovered in a little chamber in one of
the northern turrets of the palace gazing, as one in a trance, at a
Greek gem carved with the figure of Adonis. He had been seen, so
the tale ran, pressing his warm lips to the marble brow of an
antique statue that had been discovered in the bed of the river on
the occasion of the building of the stone bridge, and was inscribed
with the name of the Bithynian slave of Hadrian. He had passed a
whole night in noting the effect of the moonlight on a silver image
of Endymion.
All rare and costly materials had
certainly a great fascination for him, and in his eagerness to
procure them he had sent away many merchants, some to traffic for
amber with the rough fisher-folk of the north seas, some to Egypt
to look for that curious green turquoise which is found only in the
tombs of kings, and is said to possess magical properties, some to
Persia for silken carpets and painted pottery, and others to India
to buy gauze and stained ivory, moonstones and bracelets of jade,
sandal-wood and blue enamel and shawls of fine wool.
But what had occupied him most
was the robe he was to wear at his coronation, the robe of tissued
gold, and the ruby-studded crown, and the sceptre with its rows
and rings of pearls. Indeed, it was of this that he was thinking
to-night, as he lay back on his luxurious couch, watching the great
pinewood log that was burning itself out on the open hearth. The
designs, which were from the hands of the most famous artists of
the time, had been submitted to him many months before, and he had
given orders that the artificers were to toil night and day to
carry them out, and that the whole world was to be searched for
jewels that would be worthy of their work. He saw himself in fancy
standing at the high altar of the cathedral in the fair raiment of
a King, and a smile played and lingered about his boyish lips,
and lit up with a bright lustre his dark woodland eyes.
After some time he rose from his
seat, and leaning against the carved penthouse of the chimney,
looked round at the dimly-lit room. The walls were hung with rich
tapestries representing the Triumph of Beauty. A large press,
inlaid with agate and lapis- lazuli, filled one corner, and facing
the window stood a curiously wrought cabinet with lacquer panels of
powdered and mosaiced gold, on which were placed some delicate
goblets of Venetian glass, and a cup of dark-veined onyx. Pale
poppies were broidered on the silk coverlet of the bed, as though
they had fallen from the tired hands of sleep, and tall reeds of
fluted ivory bare up the velvet canopy, from which great tufts of
ostrich plumes sprang, like white foam, to the pallid silver of the
fretted ceiling. A laughing Narcissus in green bronze held a
polished mirror above its head. On the table stood a flat bowl of
amethyst.
Outside he could see the huge
dome of the cathedral, looming like a bubble over the shadowy
houses, and the weary sentinels pacing up and down on the misty
terrace by the river. Far away, in an orchard, a nightingale was
singing. A faint perfume of jasmine came through the open window.
He brushed his brown curls back from his forehead, and taking up a
lute, let his fingers stray across the cords. His heavy
eyelids drooped, and a strange languor came over him. Never before
had he felt so keenly, or with such exquisite joy, the magic
and the mystery of beautiful things.
When midnight sounded from the
clock-tower he touched a bell, and his pages entered and disrobed
him with much ceremony, pouring rose-water over his
hands, and strewing flowers on
his pillow. A few moments after that they had left the room, he
fell asleep.
And as he slept he dreamed a
dream, and this was his dream.
He thought that he was standing
in a long, low attic, amidst the whir and clatter of many looms.
The meagre daylight peered in through the grated windows, and
showed him the gaunt figures of the weavers bending over their
cases. Pale, sickly-looking children were crouched on the huge
crossbeams. As the shuttles dashed through the warp they lifted up
the heavy battens, and when the shuttles stopped they let the
battens fall and pressed the threads together. Their faces were
pinched with famine, and their thin hands shook and trembled. Some
haggard women were seated at a table sewing. A horrible odour
filled the place. The air was foul and heavy, and the walls dripped
and streamed with damp.
The young King went over to one
of the weavers, and stood by him and watched him.
And the weaver looked at him
angrily, and said, 'Why art thou watching me? Art thou a spy set on
us by our master?'
'Who is thy master?' asked the
young King.
'Our master!' cried the weaver,
bitterly. 'He is a man like myself. Indeed, there is but this
difference between us--that he wears fine clothes while I go in
rags, and that while I am weak from hunger he suffers not a little
from overfeeding.'
'The land is free,' said the
young King, 'and thou art no man's slave.'
'In war,' answered the weaver,
'the strong make slaves of the weak, and in peace the rich make
slaves of the poor. We must work to live, and they give us such
mean wages that we die. We toil for them all day long, and they
heap up gold in their coffers, and our children fade away before
their time, and the faces of those we love become hard and evil. We
tread out the grapes, and another drinks the wine. We sow the corn,
and our own board is empty. We have chains, though no eye beholds
them; and are slaves, though men call us free.'
'Is it so with all?' he
asked,
'It is so with all,' answered the
weaver, 'with the young as well as with the old, with the women as
well as with the men, with the little children as well as with
those who are stricken in years. The merchants grind us down, and
we must needs do their bidding. The priest rides by and tells his
beads, and no man has
care of us. Through our sunless
lanes creeps Poverty with her hungry eyes, and Sin with his sodden
face follows close behind her. Misery wakes us in the morning, and
Shame sits with us at night. But what are these things to thee?
Thou art not one of us. Thy face is too happy.' And he turned
away scowling, and threw the shuttle across the loom, and the young
King saw that it was threaded with a thread of gold.
And a great terror seized upon
him, and he said to the weaver, 'What robe is this that thou art
weaving?'
'It is the robe for the
coronation of the young King,' he answered; 'what is that to
thee?'
And the young King gave a loud
cry and woke, and lo! he was in his own chamber, and through the
window he saw the great honey-coloured moon hanging in the dusky
air.
And he fell asleep again and
dreamed, and this was his dream.
He thought that he was lying on
the deck of a huge galley that was being rowed by a hundred slaves.
On a carpet by his side the master of the galley was seated. He was
black as ebony, and his turban was of crimson silk. Great
earrings of silver dragged down the thick lobes of his ears, and in
his hands he had a pair of ivory scales.
The slaves were naked, but for a
ragged loin-cloth, and each man was chained to his neighbour. The
hot sun beat brightly upon them, and the negroes ran up and down
the gangway and lashed them with whips of hide. They stretched out
their lean arms and pulled the heavy oars through the water. The
salt spray flew from the blades.
At last they reached a little
bay, and began to take soundings. A light wind blew from the shore,
and covered the deck and the great lateen sail with a fine red
dust. Three Arabs mounted on wild asses rode out and threw spears
at them.
The master of the galley took a
painted bow in his hand and shot one of them in the throat. He fell
heavily into the surf, and his companions galloped away. A woman
wrapped in a yellow veil followed slowly on a camel, looking back
now and then at the dead body.
As soon as they had cast anchor
and hauled down the sail, the negroes went into the hold and
brought up a long rope-ladder, heavily weighted with lead. The
master of the galley threw it over the side, making the ends fast
to two iron stanchions. Then the negroes seized the youngest of the
slaves and knocked his
gyves off, and filled his
nostrils and his ears with wax, and tied a big stone round his
waist. He crept wearily down the ladder, and disappeared into the
sea. A few bubbles rose where he sank. Some of the other slaves
peered curiously over the side. At the prow of the galley sat a
shark-charmer, beating monotonously upon a drum.
After some time the diver rose up
out of the water, and clung panting to the ladder with a pearl in
his right hand. The negroes seized it from him, and thrust him
back. The slaves fell asleep over their oars.