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Whereupon Henry the First favoured the court with a fascinating leer, which left no doubt on any one's mind that he had been falsely accused.
So two more lies were set down against me; and the Black Prince called over the next.
"`Stephen usurped the throne on Henry's death.'"
"Quite right, quite right," said Matilda; "perfectly correct."
"`Matilda, after a civil war, in which her bad temper made her many enemies--'"
"Oh you story!" exclaimed the empress. "Oh! you wicked young man!"
"Address the judge, please," said Henry the Eighth.
"Oh, you wicked young man," repeated the empress, turning to the bench; "I'd like to scratch you, I would!"
"Don't do that," said Henry: "I get quite enough of that at home, I a.s.sure you. Anyhow, n.i.g.g.e.r can chalk it down a lie for you, eh?"
"And one for me, too, please," said Stephen. "How can a fellow usurp what belongs to him?"
"Give it up," said Coeur de Lion. "Ask another."
"Silence in the court," cried the judge. "Put it down, n.i.g.g.e.r, and for mercy sake drive on, or we shall be here all night."
"`Henry the Second murdered Thomas a Becket, and was served right by having a family of bad sons,'" read the usher.
"That's nice!" said Henry, advancing. "Bad sons, indeed! Never had a better lot in all my life. Really, my lord, that ought to count for four lies right off. The idea of calling my Johnny a bad boy. Why, my lord, he was his father's own boy. You've only to look at him; and if he was a bit of a romp, why, so were you and I in our day."
"Speak for yourself," said Henry the Eighth severely. "But what about Becket?"
"Ah, well, there was a little accident, I believe, about him, and he got hurt. But I a.s.sure you I never touched him; in fact, I was a hundred miles away at the time. I'll prove an alibi if you like."
"No, no," said the judge; "that is quite sufficient. Chalk down two, n.i.g.g.e.r: one for Becket and one for the bad family. How many does that come to?"
"That's eight," said the Black Prince. "All right. We only want two more. Go on."
"`Richard the First, surnamed the Lion Heart, was the strongest and bravest man in England, and won many glorious battles in the Holy Land.'"
"Hullo, I say," said the judge. "That's pitching it just a little strong, isn't it? What have you got to say to that, d.i.c.ky?"
"Seems pretty square," said Richard modestly. "He doesn't say what a good dentist I was, though. My! the dozens I used to pull out; and--oh, I say--look here, he says nothing about Blondel, and the tune I composed. That's far more important than the Crusades. It was an andante in F minor, you know, and--"
"That'll do, that'll do, d.i.c.ky. We've heard that before," interrupted the judge. "Score him down half a lie, n.i.g.g.e.r, and call up Johnny."
"`King John, surnamed Lackland, was a wicked king. He was forced to yield to the barons, and he lost all his clothes in the Wash.'"
"Well, I never!" said John, foaming with rage; "if that isn't the coolest bit of lying I ever heard! Here have I been and worn my fingers to the bone writing Magna Charta and giving England all her liberties, and he never once mentions it! My lord and gentlemen, I should like to read you the doc.u.ment I hold in my hand, in order that you may judge--"
"What, eh? Read that thing?" exclaimed Henry the Eighth, in horror.
"You'd better try it on, that's all. Good gracious me, what next? I've a good mind to commit you for contempt of court. The question is, were you a wicked king? and did you lose your clothes in the Wash?"
"I am surprised and pained that your lordship should ask me either question. When I a.s.sure you, my lord and gentlemen, that a more dutiful son, a wiser monarch, a tenderer husband, and a more estimable man than the humble individual who now addresses you, never drew--"
"Teeth," put in Richard I.
"No, breath," continued John. "And when I further tell you that I never even sent my clothes to the wash, and therefore could not possibly have lost them there, you will--"
"All right, pull up," said the judge. "That'll do. Keep the rest, my boy. That makes ten and a half--more than we want. Now, then, the next thing is, what sort of execution shall we have?"
"Oh, please," said the ladies, "_please_, Harry, darling, let the jury go out and bring the verdict in. It will be such fun."
"Eh, what?" said Henry, "oh, bother the jury! Where are they? Clear out, do you hear!" said he, addressing the twelve. "Go up to the Napoleon room and talk it over, and stay till I send for you."
The jury obeyed, and I was left alone in the dock.
"Now," said the judge, evidently relieved, "let's have the execution."
"But we've not had the verdict yet," said Anne Boleyn.
"That'll do any time," said Henry. "Just as much fun to have it afterwards. Besides, it's a wonderful saving of time to get the execution over now, while we're waiting; and then we can go straight to the refreshment-room. Eh, girls? Eh, what? Ah, I thought so."
"Oh, well," said Catherine of Aragon, "but _do_ put him in the condemned cell for a minute or so, and then have him brought out, like they all are, and--"
"_As_ they all are," said Henry the First. "Like is only used when--"
"Hold your tongue, you impertinent, forward young man!" said Catherine in a rage. "There, now!" added she, beginning to cry, "I've forgotten what I was going to say, all through you!"
"I think," said Henry the Eighth, waving his hand for silence, "he'd better be hung. Marwood tells me it's a very pretty sight; and the gallows are there quite handy. Besides," added he confidentially, "we should have to tip him in any case, so we may as well let him have the job, and get what we can for our money. What, eh?"
Every one approved of this, and the executioner was summoned.
Then, as I stood there, shivering in every limb, unable to speak, or even to move, I was aware once more of the lantern coming towards me, and of a hand laid heavily on my shoulder.
"Come, young gentleman," said the voice, "wake up--or you'll get locked in. They're shutting the doors. Tumble up, and look sharp."
It was Madame Tussaud's porter; and I had been fast asleep, after all!
CHAPTER EIGHT.
A STORY OF THE CIVIL WARS.
Sub-Chapter I.
THE INTERRUPTED FEAST.
The Singletons were a small Lowland clan, or rather faction, for their name does not appear in history as a clan. For all that, they were as loyal to their king and as devoted to their chief as any clan in Scotland, and when the time for sacrifice and hard blows came, the Singletons, as every one knew, were ever to the front.