Delphi Works of Ford Madox Ford (Illustrated) (29 page)

“That’s what they all say about the last Regent Why, it was only the other day that he told me that you were deceitful — and you
are
— and he said that you had thrown your wife into a yard full of hungry dogs, in order that you might marry me.”

“Your Majesty,” the Regent said, flushing with heavy anger, “the late Regent was a tyrant, and all tyrants are untruthful, as your Majesty’s wisdom must tell you. My wife had the misfortune to fall into a bear-pit, and, as for my daring to raise my eyes as high as your Majesty—”

“Why, you’re looking at me now,” the Queen said. “However, it doesn’t matter. You can’t marry me till I’m twenty-one, and I shan’t be that for some time. By-the-by, who’s going to be my next governess?”

“Your Majesty is now of an age to need no governess. I think a tutor would be more suitable — with your Majesty’s consent.”

“Well, who’s to be my tutor, then?” the Queen said.

“I had purposed according that inestimable honour to myself,” the Regent answered.

“Oh, I say! You’ll never do!” the Queen remarked. “You could never darn a pair of stockings, or comb my hair. You’d be so am fully clumsy.”

“Your Majesty has no need to have your royal stockings darned; you can always have a new pair.”

“But that would be so fearfully wasteful!” the Queen said.

“Your Majesty might give the other pairs to the poor.”

“But what
are
‘the poor’?”

“The poor are wicked, idle people — too wicked to work and earn the money, and too dirty to wear stockings,” the Regent said.

“Bat what would be the good of my stockings to them?” the Queen asked.

“It is the usual thing, your Majesty,” the Regent said. “But will your Majesty be pleased to sign these papers?”

The Queen said, “Oh yes, I’ll sign them, if you’ll just go down into the kitchen and ask for a piece of raw meat, about the size of my hand, and a piece of red flannel about large enough to go round a bat Oh, and what’s a good thing for rheumatism?”

The Regent looked a little surprised. “I — your Majesty, I really don’t exactly know.”

“Oh, well, ask the cook or somebody.”

“Well, but — couldn’t I send a servant, your Majesty?” the Regent said.

“No, that wouldn’t be any good,” the Queen said. “If you’re to take the place of ray governess you’ll have to do that sort of thing, you know.”

The Regent bowed. “Of course I shall be only too grateful for your Majesty’s commands. I merely thought that your Majesty might need some assistance in signing the papers.”

But the Queen answered, “Oh no, I can manage that sort of thing well enough myself, I’m quite used to it; so be quick, and remember, a nice juicy piece of raw meat and some red flannel, and — oh, opodeldoc; that’s just the thing. Be quick! I don’t want to keep the bat waiting.”

The Regent went backwards out of the room, bowing at every three steps, and, as he was clad in armour from top to toe, he made a clanking noise — quite like a tinker’s cart, if you’ve ever heard one.

So, left to herself, the Queen signed the papers one after the other. They all began —

“By THE QUEEN, A PROCLAMATION, E.R.

Whereas
by Our Proclamation given this 1st day of May—”

But the Queen never read any further than that, because she could never quite understand what it all meant At the last signature she happened to make a little blot, and somehow or other the ink happened to get into one of her nails, and that annoyed her. It
is
so difficult to get ink out of one’s nails.

“
I don’t care if I never sign another Proclamation,” she said; “and I hope I never shall. Now, look here,” she continued to the Regent, who at that moment entered. “If you were a governess I should be able to make you get this ink out; but how can I ask a man to do that?”

“I will make the attempt, if your Majesty pleases,” the Regent said.

“Well, but you haven’t got any nail-scissors,” the Queen replied.

“
I might use my sword,” the Regent suggested.

But the Queen shivered. “Ugh! fancy having a great ugly thing like that for it!” she said. “Oh, well, you’ve brought the things! Here are your papers. They’re all signed; and, if you want anything else, you’ll have to come into the garden.”

And she took up the meat and the flannel and the opodeldoc and went into the garden, leaving the Regent with the idea that he had made rather a bad business by becoming the Queen’s attendant But he was a very determined man, and merely set his teeth the firmer.

Under the overhanging rose tree the Queen sat awaiting the bat’s awakening.

“It never does to wake him up,” she said. “It makes him so bad tempered.”

So she sat patiently and watched the rose-petals that every now and then fluttered down on the wind.

It was well on towards the afternoon, after the Queen had had her dinner, before he awoke.

“Oh, you’re there?” he said. He had made the same remark every day for the last two years — which made seven hundred and thirty-one times, one of the years having been leap-year.

The Queen said, “Yes, here I am!”

The bat yawned “What’s the weather like?” he asked.

The Queen answered, “Oh, it’s very nice, and you promised to tell me the flower that would make me fly.”

“I shan’t,” the bat said. “You’d eat up all the flies — a great thing like you.”

The Queen’s eyes filled with tears, it was so disappointing.

“Oh, I promise I won’t eat
any
flies,” she said; “and I’ll go right away and leave you in peace.” The bat said, “Um” there’s something in that.”

“And look,” the Queen continued, “I’ve brought you your meat and flannel, and some stuff that’s good for rheumatism.”

The bat’s eyes twinkled with delight. “Well, I’ll tell you,” he said. “Only you must promise, first, that you won’t tell any one the secret; and secondly, that you won’t eat any flies.”

“Oh yes, I’ll promise that willingly enough.”

“Well, put the things up here on the top of the seat and I’ll tell you.”

The Queen did as she was bidden, and the bat continued —

“The flower you want is at this moment being trodden on by your foot.”

The Queen felt a little startled, but, looking down, saw a delicate white flower that had trailed from a border and was being crushed beneath her small green shoes.

“What! the wind-flower?” she said. “I always thought it was only a weed.”

“You shouldn’t think,” the bat said. “It’s as bad as supposing.”

“Well, and how am I to set about flying?” the Queen asked.

And the bat answered sharply, “Why, fly. Put the flower somewhere about you, and then go oft Only be careful not to knock against things.”

The Queen thought for a moment, and then plucked a handful and a handful and yet a handful of the wind-flowers, and, having twined them into a carcanet, wound them into her soft gold-brown hair, beneath her small crown royal.

“Good-bye, dear bat,” she said. She had grown to like the bat, for all his strange appearance and surly speeches.

The bat remarked, “Good riddance.” He was always a little irritable just after awakening.

So the Queen went out from under the arbour, and made a first essay at flying.

“I’ll make just a short flight at first,” she said, and gave a little jump, and in a moment she flew right over a rose bush and came down softly on the turf on its further side, quite like a not too timid pigeon that has to make a little flight from before a horse’s feet.

“Oh, come, that was a success,” she said to herself. “And it really is true. Well, I’ll just practise a little before I start to see the world.”

So she flew over several trees, gradually going higher and higher, until at last she caught a glimpse of the red town roofs, and then, in a swift moment’s rush, she flew over the high white wall and alighted in the road that bordered it.

“Hullo!” a voice said before she had got used to the new sensation of being out in the world. “Hullo! where did you drop from?”

“I didn’t drop — I flew,” the Queen said severely; and she looked at the man.

He was stretched on the ground, leaning his back against the wall, and basking in the hot sunlight that fell on him. He was very ragged and very dirty, and he had neither shoes nor stockings. By his side was a basket in which, over white paper frills, nodded the heads of young ferns.

“Why, who are you?” the Queen said. And then her eyes fell on his bare feet.

They reminded her of what the Regent had said that morning. “Oh, you must be the poor,” she said, “and you want my stockings.”

“I don’t know about your stockings, lady,” the man said; “but if you’ve got any old clothes to spare, I could give you some nice pots of (lowers for them.”

The Queen said, “Why, what good would that do you?”

And the man answered, “I should sell them and get some money. I’m fearfully hungry.”

“Why don’t you have something to eat, then?” the Queen said.

And the man replied, “Because I haven’t got any money to buy it with.”

“Why don’t you take it, then?”

“Because it would be stealing, and stealing’s wicked; besides, I should be sent to prison for it.”

“I don’t understand quite what you mean,” the Queen said. “But come with me somewhere where we can get some food, and you shall have as much as you like.”

The fern-seller arose with alacrity.

“There’s a shop near here where they sell some delicious honey-cakes.”

“I can’t make it out,” the Queen said to herself. “If he’s hungry he can’t be contented; and yet the Regent said every one was contented in the land, because of his being Regent He must have been mistaken, or else this man must be one of the traitors.”

And aloud she said, “Is there a bill of attainder out against you?”

The beggar shook his head. “I guess not,” he said. “Tradesmen won’t let the likes of me run up bills.”

It was a remark the Queen could not understand at all. They crossed the market-place that lay before the palace door.

“There’s no market to-day because the people are all afraid the revolution isn’t over yet.”

“Oh, but it is,” the Queen said; “I made the Lord Blackjowl Regent to-day.”

The beggar looked at her with a strange expression; but the Queen continued —

“I don’t see what harm the revolution could do to the market.”

“Why, don’t you see,” the beggar said, “when they get to fighting the arrows fly about all over the place, and the horses would knock the stalls over. Besides, the soldiers steal everything, or set fire to it Look, there’s a house still smouldering.”

And, indeed, one of the market houses was a heap of charred ruins.

“But what was the good of it?” the Queen asked.

And the beggar answered, “Well, you see, it belonged to one of the opposite party, and he wouldn’t surrender and have his head chopped off.”—’