![[Image]](images/TheWhippingBoy_092_1.jpg)
Standing in the clear sunshine, the prince breathed in the sweet, fresh air. Then he looked Jemmy squarely in the eyes. "We're going back to the castle."
"Not me! Your pa's put a price on this head o' mine. No, thank you, Prince! I don't fancy doing a jig from the end of a rope."
"Where will you hide for the rest of your life? In the sewers? I'd have them searched, end to end."
Gaw, what a fool he'd been to let the prince in on his best hiding place! Jemmy was on the verge of running—but where to? How far would he get?
"You said you trusted me," declared the prince. "But I can see you didn't mean it."
"I meant it—up to a point."
"Then follow me." It was a command.
Jemmy swallowed hard, and followed. They weren't at the castle gates yet. He'd think of something!
The prince led him back onto the fairgrounds and searched out Betsy and the hot-potato man.
"You've served your prince nobly," he announced.
"What are you talking about, lad?" replied Captain Nips. "Hot-hot-hot potatoes!"
"The king has offered a reward for the whipping boy. Here he stands. Turn him in."
And Jemmy stood dumfounded. He felt betrayed. "Gaw!"
Betsy flashed her eyes. "Turn Jemmy in? I'll do no such thing."
"I command it!"
"Who are you to command anything!"
"I'm—I'm Prince Brat."
"Ha!"
Run for it, Jemmy thought.
Deeply wounded, he gave the prince a last, blazing look. The prince returned a quick, playful wink. It befuddled Jemmy for an instant. And then, in a flash, Jemmy saw that for the first time the prince was up to a kindly piece of mischief.
"Head to toe, he's Prince Brat," said Jemmy. "Better do what he says or he'll have you boiled in oil."
Jemmy had to wait with Betsy, Petunia, and Captain Nips while the prince was alone with the king.
Finally, a pair of golden doors were opened and the group was ushered into the throne room.
The king sat with his legs crossed and the merest flicker of a smile on his lips.
Betsy bowed low, and Captain Nips did the best he could.
"The reward is yours," the king announced, and then he turned to the prince. "What about the bear? Came to your rescue, did he?"
"Couldn't we give him the title of Official Dancing Bear to Your Royal Majesty, Papa? He'd draw crowds wherever he went."
"Done."
Betsy and Captain Nips were dismissed.
Jemmy now stood alone—it seemed hours—while the king gazed at him. He began to feel a noose tightening around his neck.
"You ought to be whipped."
"Yes, My Lord."
"Prince Horace has caused enough mischief to wear out the hides of a dozen whipping boys. He tells me it's thanks to you that he's back, sound and safe. The king thanks you."
Jemmy took a small breath.
"You are placed under the prince's protection under one condition. He has sworn to do his lessons, blow out his night candle, and otherwise behave himself."
Jemmy's eyes flicked to the prince. Gaw! he thought. You must want me for a friend awful bad to promise all that. So help me, if it's a friend you ran off looking for, it's a friend you found!
"Dismissed, both of you," said the king. "But do change out of those smelly clothes."
Retreating toward the golden doors, the prince beside him, Jemmy felt a sparkle rise into his eyes. "You got me off without so much as a single whack," he whispered.
"I couldn't bear all the yowling and bellowing."
"I wouldn't yowl and bellow."
"But I would, Jemmy!" And Jemmy caught the twinkle in his eyes.
Almost at the doors, they were stopped by the king's voice. "One more thing!" The king broke into a smile you could warm your hands over. "If you boys decide to run away again, take me with you."
In the days that followed, ballad sellers began to cry out new and final verses to the notorious life of Hold-Your-Nose Billy and his partner, Cutwater.
An old rat-catcher had seen them flee from the sewer. And he'd seen them stow away aboard a ship raising its sails for a long voyage. It was a convict ship bound for a speck of an island in distant waters. A convict island.