The Prince of Eden (75 page)

Still uncertain what he had done, Edward turned back around in the pew. "Shall we pray then," he suggested quietly, "for both our mothers."

Now John rose without hesitation and led the way down the aisle and was already on his knees as Edward knelt beside him. No sooner had Edward closed his eyes than he heard John whispering, "What are we to say, Papa?"

Hiding a smile, Edward thought, at last, true companionship. Two fakes. Still, he whispered, "Pray that God go with their souls," he suggested, "and look after them, and always keep their memories alive in our hearts."

Although Edward thought he'd done very well, John apparently had doubts. "And that's all?"

Edward met his eyes. Wearily he suggested, "Add what you like."

"Aloud or in silence?"

"As you wish."

"Will God really hear?"

"It's rumored that He will."

Again Edward closed his eyes,

A few minutes later, there was a short, curt, "Amen," and even though his eyes were closed, Edward knew that John was standing.

"Shall we go now?" he heard him inquire as though with great dispatch he'd accomplished their purpose.

Edward nodded, speech momentarily beyond him. As they walked back out into the cold snowy evening, he again placed his arm about

his son's shoulder and drew him close and this time the boy did not pull away.

Edward made a promise then. "I'll take you to Eden," he pledged, "as soon as my work is completed here. The two of us will journey to Eden. And I'll show you everything."

He'd expected an exuberant reaction from the boy. Instead John merely walked quietly beside him, apparently fascinated by footsteps in the snow.

"Did you hear?" Edward questioned.

"I heard."

"I promise I'll take you home.'*

Solemnly the boy nodded and with absolute confidence agreed, "I know you will. Papa."

r/ai/'S4s

The Great Day dawned cold and overcast.

At eight o'clock in the morning it was still quite dark. Edward had been up since before dawn. He'd spent the time working quietly at his desk for fear of disturbing John. Elizabeth, who now lodged down the corridor, had come for the boy a few minutes earlier to take him for breakfast and then to hand him over to his tutors. Edward had requested that she return as soon as possible. He had important matters to discuss with her.

Now in the interim of waiting, he paced back and forth in his chambers, considering all the ramifications of the day. How would it end? If only he could foresee that. April 10, 1848. How would history treat that date? The potential for disaster was enormous. He'd felt the tension in London streets for several weeks, the silent gathering of workers from all over England.

As for the opposition, they too had prepared themselves. Over the last few days, he'd observed, mingling with the workers an increase of government troops, every street corner and coffee house alive with uniforms.

Edward continued to pace, as though somehow in the quiet room he could manufacture the assurance that he needed. The trouble was that it was almost as if the nation expected violence. With the entire face of Europe in bloody and rioting change, why should England's revolution be any different?

There was no turning back now. O'Connor would come for him

shortly after ten o'clock and together they would ride to Kennington Common. There Feargus O'Connor would briefly address the men. Then the silent march would commence. At this point, what would the government troops do?

He stood now gazing down from his window at the still dark pavement. Generally at this hour of the morning the street was clogged with commerce. Perhaps all had fled to places of safe retreat. Above he saw a dense blanket of gray clouds settling ominously over the still city. Too quiet. He recalled the editorialists who recently had predicted that by nightfall the Thames would be red with blood.

Dear God, no, he prayed quickly, and for the moment could find no respite from his fears. The best he could do now was to live with the anxiety and make certain inevitable preparations.

To this end, he turned back into the room, where standing by the door he saw a very pale Elizabeth, her face mirroring all his apprehensions.

"Please, sit," he invited, motioning to the chair opposite the desk.

As she obliged, he heard her say quietly, "So, it's to be today."

"Yes," he confirmed. "Is John at work?" he asked abruptly, drawing comfort from the thought of his son at his studies.

She nodded, and held his glance a moment. Then she seemed to straighten in her chair as though to move away from a dangerous line of thought. "What did you want to see me about?" she asked quietly.

He looked at her and saw the worried look on her face and abruptly changed his approach. He smiled broadly. "I only wanted to remind you of the celebration tonight," he said. "We'll be coming back here, many of us. I just wanted to be sure that there's food for all."

"All will be ready," she promised. "Cook has been working for days. You should see the pantry."

There was a pause. She looked questioningly up at him. "And that's all?"

"What else?"

She stood then in a lighter mood. "Then I must tend to a hundred others matters," she said and started toward the door.

He almost let her go, but at the last moment stopped her. "Elizabeth-"

Hurriedly he went to the desk and lifted a heavy envelope. "This is for you," he said. "Put it in a safe place among your things and there's no need even to look at it unless—"

He'd explained nothing of the letter's contents. "In the event," he began, choosing his words carefully, "that the celebration has been ill-

planned, I must ask one last favor of you, that you take my son back to Eden Point. Will you do that for me?"

She was eyeing the envelope now. "There's money there," he said, "more than enough for both of you, and instructions to my brother that you too be allowed to stay in the castle, if you wish."

Quickly she shook her head. "I don't belong there," she murmured. "But I'll see to John," she promised.

"Then it's settled," he concluded, coming around from behind the desk. "Here," he said, placing the envelope in her hands at last. There was nothing more to stay for, though still she waited. He wanted nothing more in the world than to erase that look of gloom from her face.

To that end, he took her by the shoulders, then enclosed her in his arms and felt the envelope being crushed between them. He'd intended to hold her only a moment. But as he relaxed his arms, he was aware of her hand moving around his neck in a reciprocal embrace.

With his eyes closed, he rested his cheek atop her head and wondered, which was the greater force? Those half a million men gathering on Kennington Common, ready to remake the world, or that one small hand, offering comfort?

Shortly after they had left the house on Oxford Street, they began to see an increase in government troops. A strangely subdued Feargus O'Conner commented on them. "They want blood shed," he muttered.

"I think not," Edward said, looking out at the same scene. He saw soldiers everywhere to be sure, but they were relaxed-appearing, chatting on street corners, camping in parks with the same men they shortly would be facing on Kennington Common.

As they made their way through the city toward the river, Edward noticed an increase in traffic. From the carriage window he could see officers hurriedly drinking tea and eating breakfast, other soldiers munching biscuits, stamping their feet rhythmically while they gathered about the fires, warming themselves in the chill morning.

The officers and adjutants in command got on their horses and gave final orders to the men who remained behind and the monotonous thud of thousands of feet began. Edward saw the columns moving through the smoke and fog, an awesome sight, as though it were the government's intention to match every demonstrator with a soldier.

They were passing Westminster Bridge now. Kennington was not too far. Along the pavement outside the window, he saw the crowds increasing, the workers for whom this massive demonstration had been

planned. Interspersed among them he saw uniforms, special constables who had been pressed into service, and many spectators.

"We've gathered quite an audience," Edward commented to O'Conner, slumped in the seaL

O'Conner pulled himself upright and gazed timidly through his window, his face flushed as he surveyed the chaotic scene on all sides. "If they are with us, they are welcomed," he muttered.

Then suddenly Edward heard O'Conner shout a triumphant "Look!" and leaning out the window, Edward followed the direction of his hand and glanced ahead toward the Common, and saw, not the Common, but a sea of men which seemed to grow larger even as he was watching it, perhaps not half a million men, but enough to fill the large area, with many more spilling over onto the pavements and up the embankments, men closing in around the carriage now.

Edward heard a single cry, "It's him! It's O'Conner," and the refrain was taken up by thousands of other voices which in turn relayed the message into the heart of the crowd, and all at once Edward saw a remarkable change come over the man, as though at last he'd found the narcotic which sustained him and gave him strength.

Leaving the carriage, O'Conner strode, head erect, toward the center of the mob and the flat-bed wagon waiting at the heart of the Common. As Edward emerged from the carriage, he saw a battalion of police standing at the edge of the gathering, merely watching, their passivity in peculiar contrast to the wildly shouting men. A Commissioner on horseback detached himself from the battalion and rode slowly a few yards into the crowd.

Edward thought, one man advancing. Hardly a threat. Then he hurried after O'Conner, who was moving down a small path where the men had parted to give him easy passage. Edward saw many of the men reach out to touch O'Conner and, still grasping the petition, the tall man returned their greetings. Truly he was a man fully restored.

A few moments later he'd managed to make his way to the flat-bed wagon and with one easy leap, his black cloak flying, he scaled the small height and stood erect, well above the crowds, and extended his arms as though to embrace them all.

As the roar increased, Edward made his way to the wagon and would have been content with his unobtrusive position except, at that moment, O'Conner looked down and shouted, "Come, Eden, you belong up here as well." As two strong aides grasped him by the arms, Edward felt himself lifted into the air and deposited alongside O'Conner, who suddenly raised one side of his great cloak, draped it about Edward's shoulders, and drew him close.

The gesture, clearly one of affection, was not lost on the crowds. As their voices rose again in a thunderous shout, Edward felt ill at ease, fairly certain that not one man in that mob knew precisely why they were shouting their approval of him.

When the applause and cries showed no signs of diminishing, he looked up to see a misty-eyed Feargus O'Connor, with great circumflex eyebrows, again lift his arms, though he leaned close to Edward with a whisper, "For Daniel," he murmured.

Edward nodded, though in truth he could not see Daniel enjoying this position of exhibition any more than he was. The urgency in Daniel's soul had not been for theatricals such as this, but rather in the steady, quiet, and frequently discouraging assault on human misery.

Engrossed in this special moment, Edward was only vaguely aware of the black cloak leaving his shoulders. Now as he brought himself back to the uproar and the confusion, he saw O'Conner again, standing on the edge of the wagon, his arms raised in the air, clearly signaling for order and quiet.

And when at last the quiet suited him, he slowly lowered his arms and lifted his head and shouted at top voice in an echoing tone which seemed to resound about the quietly waiting men:

"My friends, we have gathered here today to rechart the course of English history!"

As his voice rose, the men once again lifted their fists and filled the air with a roar of approval.

Then O'Conner was speaking again. "The condition of England," he went on. "That is our concern today, an England blessed witH unabated bounty, thickly covered with workshops, with industrial implements, with millions of workers conceded to be the strongest, the most capable that the Earth has ever known."