King John of Jingalo: The Story of a Monarch in DifficultiesHousman, Laurence
General
King John of Jingalo: The Story of a Monarch in Difficulties
Housman, Laurence
Kings and rulers -- Fiction
Presently he was passing along the palace front and under the
eyes of sentries standing motionless at their posts; and again
he had satisfaction in perceiving that as he went by there was no
inclination on the part of any one of them to present arms. He
glanced up at the palace facade, with its windows softly lighted
through blinds. He could pick out his own sitting-room, and the
Queen's, where probably she was now reading the note he had sent to
inform her that urgent business called him away. There were the
lights of the smaller dining-hall, within which a table richly adorned
with gold and silver plate stood even now waiting its twenty accustomed
guests--the minister-in-attendance and the higher permanent officials of
the Court. No one else from outside was coming to-night except Prince
Max. That was fortunate, Max would take his place.
As soon as he was outside the borders of the park the King quitted the
main thoroughfare for narrow and dimly lit alleys, avoiding the streets
of wide pavements and shops which had scarcely yet begun to close; and
before long found that he had lost his way.
The fact was sufficiently absurd; here within a stone's throw of his own
palace, and stretching almost to the doors of the House of Legislature
whereto he went in so much state every year, lay an unknown territory
which he had never thought to explore. The intricacy of back streets was
quite unknown to him, and he seemed at almost every corner to be
stepping into yards and cul-de-sacs, from which he had perforce to turn
back again. In a short time all sense of the points of the compass was
gone.
A small ragged urchin asked him the time, and that casual touch of
communalism made him feel more at home. He took out his watch--it was
already five minutes past eight: over those high narrow streets, with
their thin strip of sky, the big clock of Parliament had boomed the hour
and he had not heard it. Away scurried the urchin as though already late
for something, excitedly calling on others to follow; and the King, with
the presumption that these running feet would be sure to lead him in the
direction where he wished to go, followed them round two corners. After
that all trace of them was gone.
A sound of shrill singing now struck his ear. He was in a narrow
asphalted way surrounded by workmen's tenements. Right in the middle,
occupying the place of the non-existent traffic, ten or a dozen children
were dancing a sort of figure, and singing the while. As he drew near he
caught snatches of the words.
Of an elder child, who stood looking on, he stopped and asked the way.
She told him, gesticulating as to which corners he was to pass, pointing
all the time to the promised goal. Incautiously he dropped a coin into
her hand; and, as kings do not carry coppers, immediately there was a
cry. The singers stopped and surrounded him, stretching up clamorous
palms; a whole dozen were now feverishly anxious to show him every step
of the way.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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