The Outlaw of Torn
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Edgar Rice Burroughs >> The Outlaw of Torn
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They bore him to a cot in an apartment next the
Queen's, and all that night the mother and the prom-
ised wife of the Outlaw of Torn sat bathing his fevered
forehead. The King's chirurgeon was there also, while
the King and De Montfort paced the corridor without.
And it is ever thus; whether in hovel or palace; in
the days of Moses, or in the days that be ours; the
lamb that has been lost and is found again be always
the best beloved.
Toward morning Norman of Torn fell into a quiet
and natural sleep; the fever and delirium had suc-
cumbed before his perfect health and iron constitution.
The chirurgeon turned to the Queen and Bertrade de
Montfort.
"You had best retire, ladies," he said, "and rest; the
Prince will live."
Late that afternoon he awoke, and no amount of
persuasion or commands on the part of the King's
chirurgeon could restrain him from arising.
"I beseech thee to lie quiet, My Lord Prince," urged
the chirurgeon.
"Why call thou me prince?" asked Norman of Torn.
"There be one without whose right it be to explain
that to thee," replied the chirurgeon, "and when thou
be clothed, if rise thou wilt, thou mayst see her, My
Lord."
The chirurgeon aided him to dress, and, opening the
door, he spoke to a sentry who stood just without. The
sentry transmitted the message to a young squire who
was waiting there, and presently the door was thrown
open again from without, and a voice announced:
"Her Majesty, the Queen!"
Norman of Torn looked up in unfeigned surprise,
and then there came back to him the scene in the
Queen's apartment the night before. It was all a sore
perplexity to him; he could not fathom it, nor did he
attempt to.
And now, as in a dream, he saw the Queen of Eng-
land coming toward him across the small room, her
arms outstretched; her beautiful face radiant with hap-
piness and love.
"Richard, my son!" exclaimed Eleanor, coming to him
and taking his face in her hands and kissing him.
"Madame!" exclaimed the surprised man. "Be all the
world gone crazy?"
And then she told him the strange story of the little
lost prince of England.
When she had finished, he knelt at her feet, taking
her hand in his and raising it to his lips.
"I did not know, Madame," he said, "or never would
my sword have been bared in other service than thine.
If thou canst forgive me, Madame, never can I forgive
myself."
"Take it not so hard, my son," said Eleanor of Eng-
land, "it be no fault of thine, and there be nothing to
forgive; only happiness and rejoicing should we feel,
now that thou be found again."
"Forgiveness!" said a man's voice behind them. "For-
sooth, it be we that should ask forgiveness; hunting
down our own son with swords and halters.
"Any but a fool might have known that it was no
base born knave who sent the King's army back, naked
to the King, and rammed the King's message down his
messenger's throat.
"By all the saints, Richard, thou be every inch a
King's son, an' though we made sour faces at the time,
we be all the prouder of thee now."
The Queen and the outlaw had turned at the first
words to see the King standing behind them, and now
Norman of Torn rose, half smiling, and greeted his
father.
"They be sorry jokes, Sire," he said. "Methinks it had
been better had Richard remained lost. It will do the
honor of the Plantagenets but little good to acknowl-
edge the Outlaw of Torn as a prince of the blood."
But they would not have it so, and it remained for a
later King of England to wipe the great name from
the pages of history--perhaps a jealous king.
Presently the King and Queen, adding their pleas
to those of the chirurgeon, prevailed upon him to lie
down once more, and when he had done so they left
him, that he might sleep again; but no sooner had the
door closed behind them than he arose and left the
apartment by another exit.
It was by chance that, in a deep set window, he
found her for whom he was searching. She sat looking
wistfully into space, an expression half sad upon her
beautiful face. She did not see him as he approached,
and he stood there for several moments watching her
dear profile, and the rising and falling of her bosom
over that true and loyal heart that had beaten so proud-
ly against all the power of a mighty throne for the
despised Outlaw of Torn.
He did not speak, but presently that strange, subtile
sixth sense which warns us that we are not alone,
though our eyes see not nor our ears hear, caused her
to turn.
With a little cry she arose, and then, curtsying low
after the manner of the court, said:
"What would My Lord Richard, Prince of England,
of his poor subject?" And then, more gravely, "My
Lord, I have been raised at court, and I understand
that a prince does not wed rashly, and so let us forget
what passed between Bertrade de Montfort and Nor-
man of Torn."
"Prince Richard of England will in no wise disturb
royal precedents," he replied, "for he will wed not
rashly, but most wisely, since he will wed none but
Bertrade de Montfort." And he who had been the
Outlaw of Torn took the fair young girl in his arms,
adding: "If she still loves me, now that I be a prince?"
She put her arms about his neck, and drew his cheek
down close to hers.
"It was not the outlaw that I loved, Richard, nor
be it the prince I love now; it be all the same to me,
prince or highwayman--it be thee I love, dear heart--
just thee."
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