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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 madman. His victims sprawled this way and that, but the mobtide 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

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 sunk upon their knees in a
body, stretched out their hands towards 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 honor! 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!’*(7) 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!’
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