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CAPTULO XI - Pag 11

English version Versin en espaol
At Guildhall

The royal barge, attended by its gorgeous fleet, took its stately way down the Thames through the wilderness of illuminated boats. The air was laden with music; the river banks were beruffled with joy-flames; the distant city lay in a soft luminous glow from its countless invisible bonfires; above it rose many a slender spire into the sky, incrusted with sparkling lights, wherefore in their remoteness they seemed like jewelled lances thrust aloft; as the fleet swept along, it was greeted from the banks with a continuous hoarse roar of cheers and the ceaseless flash and boom of artillery.

To Tom Canty, half buried in his silken cushions, these sounds and this spectacle were a wonder unspeakably sublime and astonishing. To his little friends at his side, the Princess Elizabeth and the Lady Jane Grey, they were nothing.

Arrived at the Dowgate, the fleet was towed up the limpid Walbrook (whose channel has now been for two centuries buried out of sight under acres of buildings) to Bucklersbury, past houses and under bridges populous with merry-makers and brilliantly lighted, and at last came to a halt in a basin where now is Barge Yard, in the centre of the ancient city of London. Tom disembarked, and he and his gallant procession crossed Cheapside and made a short march through the Old Jewry and Basinghall Street to the Guildhall.
Tom and his little ladies were received with due ceremony by the Lord Mayor and the Fathers of the City, in their gold chains and scarlet robes of state, and conducted to a rich canopy of state at the head of the great hall, preceded by heralds making proclamation, and by the Mace and the City Sword. The lords and ladies who were to attend upon Tom and his two small friends took their places behind their chairs.
At a lower table the Court grandees and other guests of noble degree were seated, with the magnates of the city; the commoners took places at a multitude of tables on the main floor of the hall. From their lofty vantage-ground the giants Gog and Magog, the ancient guardians of the city, contemplated the spectacle below them with eyes grown familiar to it in forgotten generations. There was a bugle-blast and a proclamation, and a fat butler appeared in a high perch in the leftward wall, followed by his servitors bearing with impressive solemnity a royal baron of beef, smoking hot and ready for the knife.

After grace, Tom (being instructed) rose—and the whole house with him—and drank from a portly golden loving-cup with the Princess Elizabeth; from her it ed to the Lady Jane, and then traversed the general assemblage. So the banquet began.

By midnight the revelry was at its height. Now came one of those picturesque spectacles so ired in that old day. A description of it is still extant in the quaint wording of a chronicler who witnessed it:
‘Space being made, presently entered a baron and an earl appareled after the Turkish fashion in long robes of bawdkin powdered with gold; hats on their heads of crimson velvet, with great rolls of gold, girded with two swords, called scimitars, hanging by great bawdricks of gold. Next came yet another baron and another earl, in two long gowns of yellow satin, traversed with white satin, and in every bend of white was a bend of crimson satin, after the fashion of Russia, with furred hats of gray on their heads; either of them having an hatchet in their hands, and boots with pykes’ (points a foot long), ‘turned up. And after them came a knight, then the Lord High iral, and with him five nobles, in doublets of crimson velvet, voyded low on the back and before to the cannell-bone, laced on the breasts with chains of silver; and over that, short cloaks of crimson satin, and on their heads hats after the dancers’ fashion, with pheasants’ feathers in them. These were appareled after the fashion of Prussia. The torchbearers, which were about an hundred, were appareled in crimson satin and green, like Moors, their faces black. Next came in a mommarye. Then the minstrels, which were disguised, danced; and the lords and ladies did wildly dance also, that it was a pleasure to behold.’

And while Tom, in his high seat, was gazing upon this ‘wild’ dancing, lost in iration of the dazzling commingling of kaleidoscopic colours which the whirling turmoil of gaudy figures below him presented, the ragged but real little Prince of Wales was proclaiming his rights and his wrongs, denouncing the impostor, and clamouring for ission at the gates of Guildhall! The crowd enjoyed this episode prodigiously, and pressed forward and craned their necks to see the small rioter. Presently they began to taunt him and mock at him, purposely to goad him into a higher and still more entertaining fury. Tears of mortification sprang to his eyes, but he stood his ground and defied the mob right royally. Other taunts followed, added mockings stung him, and he exclaimed—
“I tell ye again, you pack of unmannerly curs, I am the Prince of Wales! And all forlorn and friendless as I be, with none to give me word of grace or help me in my need, yet will not I be driven from my ground, but will maintain it!”
“Though thou be prince or no prince, ‘tis all one, thou be’st a gallant lad, and not friendless neither! Here stand I by thy side to prove it; and mind I tell thee thou might’st have a worser friend than Miles Hendon and yet not tire thy legs with seeking. Rest thy small jaw, my child; I talk the language of these base kennel-rats like to a very native.”
The speaker was a sort of Don Caesar de Bazan in dress, aspect, and bearing. He was tall, trim-built, muscular. His doublet and trunks were of rich material, but faded and threadbare, and their gold-lace adornments were sadly tarnished; his ruff was rumpled and damaged; the plume in his slouched hat was broken and had a bedraggled and disreputable look; at his side he wore a long rapier in a rusty iron sheath; his swaggering carriage marked him at once as a ruffler of the camp. The speech of this fantastic figure was received with an explosion of jeers and laughter. Some cried, “‘Tis another prince in disguise!” “‘Ware thy tongue, friend: belike he is dangerous!” "Marry, he looketh it—mark his eye!” "Pluck the lad from him—to the horse-pond wi’ the cub!”
Instantly a hand was laid upon the Prince, under the impulse of this happy thought; as instantly the stranger’s long sword was out and the meddler went to the earth under a sounding thump with the flat of it. The next moment a score of voices shouted, “Kill the dog! Kill him! Kill him!” and the mob closed in on the warrior, who backed himself against a wall and began to lay about him with his long weapon like a man. His victims sprawled this way and that, but the mob-tide poured over their prostrate forms and dashed itself against the champion with undiminished fury.
His moments seemed numbered, his destruction certain, when suddenly a trumpet-blast sounded, a voice shouted, “Way for the King’s messenger!” and a troop of horsemen came charging down upon the mob, who fled out of harm’s reach as fast as their legs could carry them. The bold stranger caught up the Prince in his arms, and was soon far away from danger and the multitude.
Return we within the Guildhall. Suddenly, high above the jubilant roar and thunder of the revel, broke the clear peal of a bugle-note. There was instant silence—a deep hush; then a single voice rose—that of the messenger from the palace—and began to pipe forth a proclamation, the whole multitude standing listening.
The closing words, solemnly pronounced, were—
“The King is dead!”
The great assemblage bent their heads upon their breasts with one accord; remained so, in profound silence, a few moments; then all sank upon their knees in a body, stretched out their hands toward Tom, and a mighty shout burst forth that seemed to shake the building—
“Long live the King!”
Poor Tom’s dazed eyes wandered abroad over this stupefying spectacle, and finally rested dreamily upon the kneeling princesses beside him, a moment, then upon the Earl of Hertford. A sudden purpose dawned in his face. He said, in a low tone, at Lord Hertford’s ear—
“Answer me truly, on thy faith and honour! Uttered I here a command, the which none but a king might hold privilege and prerogative to utter, would such commandment be obeyed, and none rise up to say me nay?”
“None, my liege, in all these realms. In thy person bides the majesty of England. Thou art the king—thy word is law.”
Tom responded, in a strong, earnest voice, and with great animation—
“Then shall the king’s law be law of mercy, from this day, and never more be law of blood! Up from thy knees and away! To the Tower, and say the King decrees the Duke of Norfolk shall not die!”
The words were caught up and carried eagerly from lip to lip far and wide over the hall, and as Hertford hurried from the presence, another prodigious shout burst forth—
“The reign of blood is ended! Long live Edward, King of England!”

En el Ayuntamiento

La fala real, seguida de su esplndida flotilla, se encamin majestuosamente por el Tmesis abajo entre la maraa de botes iluminados. El aire estaba cargado de msica; y las orillas del ro tremolando por la alegra de las llamaradas; la lejana ciudad se tenda en el suave resplandor luminoso de sus incontables hogueras invisibles; por encima de ella se elevaban al cielo muchas esbeltas espirales, incrustadas de luces centelleantes, que en su lejana parecan enjoyadas lanzas arrojadas a lo alto. A medida que navegaba la flotilla, era saludada desde las mrgenes con un continuo clamor de vivas e incesantes centellas y truenos de la artillera.
Para Tom Canty, medio enterrado en sus almohadones de seda, estos sonidos y este espectculo eran una maravilla inefablemente sublime y asombrosa. Para sus amiguitas, que iban a su lado, la princesa Isabel y lady Juana Grey, no eran nada.
Llegada a Dowgate, la flotilla subi por el lmpido Walbrook, cuyo cauce lleva ahora dos siglos oculto a la vista bajo terrenos edificados, hacia Bucklersbury, dejando atrs casas y pasando bajo puentes llenos de juerguistas y brillantemente iluminados; por fin vino a detenerse en una drsena, donde est ahora Barge Yard, en el centro de la antigua ciudad de Londres. Tom desembarc, y l y su vistoso cortejo cruzaron Cheapside, e hicieron un corto paseo entre la Judera Vieja y la calle Basinghall, hasta el Ayuntamiento..
Tom y sus damitas fueron recibidos con el debido ceremonial por el alcalde y los principales de la ciudad, con sus cadenas de oro y sus trajes de gala escarlata, y fueron conducidos bajo un rico dosel ceremonial situado en lo alto del gran saln, precedidos por heraldos haciendo la proclama, y por la Maza y la Espada de la Ciudad. Los lores y las damas que haban de asistir a Tom y a sus dos pequeas amigas tomaron su lugar detrs de sus sillas correspondientes.
En una mesa ms baja tomaron asiento los grandes de la corte, con otros huspedes de noble condicin, y los magnates de la ciudad. Los comunes ocuparon sus lugares en multitud de mesas en el piso principal del saln. Desde su aventajado lugar, los gigantes Gog y Magog, antiguos guardianes de la ciudad, contemplaban el espectculo con ojos familiarizados con l desde tiempos inmemoriales. Se oy un toque de clarn y una proclama, y un despensero gordo apareci por la pared izquierda, seguido de sus ayudantes, que llevaban con impresionante solemnidad un regio solomillo de buey, humeante y dispuesto a ser trinchado.
Despus de las oraciones, Tom, ya instruido, se levant –y con l todos los all presentes– y bebi de una portentosa copa con la princesa Isabel; la pas luego a lady Juana Grey y despus circul por toda la asamblea. As comenz el banquete.
A medianoche el festn estaba en su apogeo. Luego vino uno de esos pintorescos espectculos, tan irados en aquellos antiguos tiempos. An existe una descripcin de l en el singular estilo de un cronista que lo presenci
"Habindoseles hecho espacio, pronto entraron un barn y un conde, ataviados a la turca con largos mantos salpicados de oro; sombreros de terciopelo carmes, con grandes vueltas de oro; cean dos espadas, llamadas cimitarras, pendientes de grandes tahales de oro. Venan despus todava otro barn y otro conde, con largos ropajes de raso amarillo con rayas de vaso blanco al travs, y en cada lista blanca traan otra de raso carmes, a la usanza rusa, con sombreros de piel blanca con manchas negras; cada uno de ellos llevaba un hacha pequea en la mano y botas con pykes (puntas de casi un pie de largo), vueltas hacia arriba. Y despus de ellos vena un caballero, luego el lord gran almirante, y con l cinco nobles con jubones de terciopelo carmes, escotados por detrs y por delante hasta el esternn, sujetos por el puo con cadenas de plata; y sobre esto, capas cortas de raso carmes y en las cabezas sombreros a la manera de los danzantes, con pluma de faisn. stos iban vestidos a la usanza prusiana. Los hacheros, que eran cerca de un centenar, iban de raso carmes y verde, como moros, sus caras negras. Vena despus un mommarye. Luego los ministriles, disfrazados, bailaron; y lores y damas bailaron tambin tan desafinadamente, que era un placer contemplarlos."
Y mientras Tom, en su elevado asiento, observaba esta "desatinada" danza, absorto en su iracin de la deslumbradora mezcla de colores caleidoscpicos que ofreca el arremolinado torbellino de vistosas figuras, el andrajoso pero verdadero Prncipe de Gales proclamaba sus derechos y sus agravios, denunciando al impostor y clamando entrada a las puertas del Ayuntamiento! La muchedumbre gozaba extraordinariamente con el episodio y se abalanzaba desnucndose para ver al pequeo alborotador. Pronto empezaron a burlarse y a mofarse de l con el propsito de incitarlo a ms y mayor divertida furia. Lgrimas de tristeza le saltaron a los ojos pero se contuvo y ret a la turba regiamente. Siguieron otras burlas, nuevas mofas lo punzaron, y exclam:
–Os vuelvo a decir, hato de perruchos indecentes, que soy el Prncipe de Gales; y tan abandonado y solo como estoy, sin nadie que diga una palabra a mi favor o me ayude en mi necesidad, aun as no me despojaris de mi derecho, que he de mantener.
–Aunque seas prncipe o no, lo mismo da; eres un chico gallardo y no te faltan amigos. Aqu estoy yo a tu lado para probarlo. Y te digo que peor amigo podras tener que Miles Hendon, sin cansar tus piernas en la bsqueda. Descansa tu lengua, hijo mo. Yo hablo el lenguaje de estas ratas de coladera como mi lengua nativa.
El que hablaba era una especie de don Csar de Bazn por su traje, su aspecto y su porte. Era alto, delgado y musculoso. Su jubn y sus calzas eran de rico gnero, pero marchitos y rados, y su adorno de encaje estaba tristemente deslucido; su lechuguilla, estaba ajada y estropeada; la pluma de su sombrero alicado estaba rota y tena aspecto sucio y poco respetable. Al costado llevaba un largo estoque en una oxidada vaina de hierro; su actitud fanfarrona lo delataba de inmediato como un espadachn en campaa. Las palabras de esta fantstica figura fueron recibidas con una explosin de jbilo y risas. Algunos gritaron: "Es otro prncipe disfrazado!" "Cuidado con lo que hablas, amigo, parece que es peligroso!" "En verdad lo parece: mira sus ojos." "Separa de l al chico." "Al abrevadero de los caballos con l."
Instantneamente, a impulsos de esta feliz idea, una mano cay sobre el prncipe; tan instantneamente, la larga espada del desconocido estaba fuera, y el mediador cay al suelo gracias a un sonoro golpe de, plano. Al momento gritaron docenas de voces: "Matad al perro, matadlo, matadla!", y la turba se cerr sobre el guerrero, que arrim la espalda contra una pared y empez a golpear a ciegas con su larga arma como un loco. Sus vctimas caan ac y all, pero la chusma pasaba sobre los derribados y se abalanzaba con indeclinable furia contra el campen. Los momentos de ste parecan contados, su desgracia cierta, cuando, de pronto, son una trompeta, una voz grit: "Paso al mensajero del rey!", y una tropa de jinetes lleg cargando sobre la multitud, que se apart del peligro tan rpidamente como se lo permitieron las piernas. El valiente desconocido carg al prncipe en sus brazos y pronto estuvo alejado del peligro y de la multitud.
Volvamos al interior del Ayuntamiento. De pronto, por encima de la alegre algazara de la fiesta, se dej or el repique de un clarn. Al instante se hizo el silencio; luego se alz una sola voz –la del mensajero del palacio—, el cual empez a correr una proclama, toda la multitud en pie, atenta. Las ltimas palabras, solemnemente pronunciadas, fueron:
–El rey ha muerto!
Todos en la gran reunin doblaron da cabeza sobre el pecho de consuno; permanecieron as unos momentos, en profundo silencio; luego cayeron a la vez de rodillas, tendieron sus manos hacia Tom, y reson un poderoso grito que pareci cimbrar el edificio:
–Viva el rey!
Los asombrados ojos del pobre Tom vagaron sobre este pasmoso espectculo, y finalmente se posaron un momento, como en sueos, sobre las arrodilladas princesas que tena a su lado, y luego sobre el conde de Hertford. Una resolucin sbita se mostr en su rostro. Dijo, en voz baja, al odo de lord Hertford:
–Respndeme en verdad, por tu fe y por tu honor. Si yo aqu diera una orden, la cual nadie sino un rey tuviera el privilegio y la prerrogativa de dar, sera obedecido tal mandato, y ninguno habra que pudiera decirme que no?
–Ninguno, mi seor, en todos estos dominios. En tu persona –reside la majestad de Inglaterra. T eres el rey; tu palabra es ley:
Tom respondi en voz alta y gravemente, con gran animacin:
–Entonces sea la ley del rey ley de misericordia desde este da, y nunca mas sea ley de sangre. Levantaos y marchad. A la Torre, y decid que el rey decreta que el duque de Norfolk no debe morir!
Estas palabras fueron alcanzadas y corrieron diligentemente de boca en boca a lo largo y ancho del saln, y cuando Hertford se apresuraba a salir reson otro prodigioso grito:
–El reinado de la sangre ha terminado! Viva Eduardo, rey de Inglaterra!

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