But I believed I saw my chance at last. I would
form this crack regiment out of officers alone—not
a single private. Half of it should consist
of nobles, who should fill all the places up to Major-General,
and serve gratis and pay their own expenses; and they
would be glad to do this when they should learn that
the rest of the regiment would consist exclusively
of princes of the blood. These princes of the
blood should range in rank from Lieutenant-General
up to Field Marshal, and be gorgeously salaried and
equipped and fed by the state. Moreover—and
this was the master stroke —it should be
decreed that these princely grandees should be always
addressed by a stunningly gaudy and awe-compelling
title (which I would presently invent), and they and
they only in all England should be so addressed.
Finally, all princes of the blood should have free
choice; join that regiment, get that great title, and
renounce the royal grant, or stay out and receive a
grant. Neatest touch of all: unborn but
imminent princes of the blood could be born
into the regiment, and start fair, with good wages
and a permanent situation, upon due notice from the
parents.
All the boys would join, I was sure of that; so, all
existing grants would be relinquished; that the newly
born would always join was equally certain.
Within sixty days that quaint and bizarre anomaly,
the Royal Grant, would cease to be a living fact,
and take its place among the curiosities of the past.
CHAPTER XXVI
THE FIRST NEWSPAPER
When I told the king I was going out disguised as
a petty freeman to scour the country and familiarize
myself with the humbler life of the people, he was
all afire with the novelty of the thing in a minute,
and was bound to take a chance in the adventure himself—nothing
should stop him—he would drop everything
and go along—it was the prettiest idea
he had run across for many a day. He wanted
to glide out the back way and start at once; but I
showed him that that wouldn’t answer. You
see, he was billed for the king’s-evil—to
touch for it, I mean—and it wouldn’t
be right to disappoint the house and it wouldn’t
make a delay worth considering, anyway, it was only
a one-night stand. And I thought he ought to
tell the queen he was going away. He clouded
up at that and looked sad. I was sorry I had
spoken, especially when he said mournfully:
“Thou forgettest that Launcelot is here; and
where Launcelot is, she noteth not the going forth
of the king, nor what day he returneth.”
Of course, I changed the Subject. Yes, Guenever
was beautiful, it is true, but take her all around
she was pretty slack. I never meddled in these
matters, they weren’t my affair, but I did hate
to see the way things were going on, and I don’t
mind saying that much. Many’s the time
she had asked me, “Sir Boss, hast seen Sir Launcelot
about?” but if ever she went fretting around
for the king I didn’t happen to be around at
the time.
