Prince Edward had never imagined that he would be running through the slums of London with an angry, drunken man chasing after him. Yet right now he found himself in that very predicament.
The Offal Court locals cheered and hollered as Edward sprinted through the alley with John Canty just behind him.
"Faster, Canty," the locals yelled. "The boy is getting away!"
Suddenly someone stuck out a foot, causing Edward to trip and tumble to the ground.
"I've got you now!" cried Canty. He yanked hard on Edward's arm and pulled him back to his feet.
Laughter rang out. "You're in trouble, Tom!" the mob teased.
Suddenly there was another voice. "Let the boy go!"
A priest dressed in a tattered robe pushed his way through the crowd. He looked at the boy with concern.
Edward wondered, "Is this Tom's Father Andrew—the priest who taught him Latin and how to read?"
"Are you all right, Tom?" the priest asked.
But before Edward could answer, Canty hit the man with a stick, making him fall. Edward gasped in horror. He wanted to help the priest, but there was no time. Canty grabbed Edward by the arm and then dragged him all the way to the Cantys' house.
Inside, Tom's father stood over Edward. "Are you trying to make a fool of me?" he demanded.
Edward ignored the angry man. Instead he looked about in shock at his new, shabby surroundings. The room was dark, lit dimly by just one candle. Two girls huddled in a corner with a thin, middle-aged woman. They all looked terrified as Canty screamed at Edward.
"Too good to answer your own father, are you?" Canty bellowed. "I need to teach you some manners!"
Edward felt his cheeks burn with anger. "If you lay one finger on me—Edward, Prince of Wales—you will regret it, sir!"
Canty burst into laughter.
But the woman let out a worried cry. "Tom Canty! Why are you speaking this way?" She rushed over.
Edward saw that she had tired but kind eyes. "Dear woman," he said gently. "I am not your son. Tom is at the palace, having taken my rightful spot."
"The palace!" Mrs. Canty collapsed to the floor. "Tom, all that time spent reading has made you mad. You’re breaking your mother’s heart!"
"I’m sorry," Edward said gently, "but you are not my mother. I’ve never seen you before."
"Oh, it's worse than I thought!" cried Mrs. Canty, and she began to wail.
Tom's sisters tried to help."Please, Father," they pleaded timidly, "let Tom rest for a few days. We will beg harder to make up for his share."
But Tom's father smiled darkly. "If he is truly sick, others will see it too. The generous citizens of London will give the poor beggar boy extra coins, won't they?" Canty turned back to Edward. "Give me what you collected with your pathetic begging today."
"Watch your words!" Edward warned. "You are speaking to the King of England's son!"
"That's it! I've had it!" Canty's face grew red and he stepped closer, a hand raised.
Tom's sisters and mother quickly made a protective block around Edward.
"Please, Father! Can't you see that Tom's not well?" the girls cried.
"All of you will pay for this disobedience!" yelled Canty. With that, he grabbed some moldy bread and took it with him to a corner of the room with a jug of wine. To everyone's relief, he was soon snoring loudly.
Tom's mother gathered some old straw and covered it with a blanket.
"Lie here and sleep," she whispered to Edward.
Edward was touched by her kindness. But he was horrified at the thought of lying down on that dirty pile of straw. "How I miss my own bed," he thought longingly.
One of Tom's sisters came over. "Go on, Tom, we're not hungry," she said, placing a slice of bread and a bruised apple in his hand.
Edward felt a lump in his throat. Back at the palace even the servants did not eat food as old and stale as this.
"Tom's family is very poor," he thought. "Yet the women are loving and generous."
Slowly Edward reached for the food. He ate it because he'd eaten nothing all day, and he was famished. He also ate it because he was moved. He could not refuse such charity from Tom's sisters.
"Thank you, kind women of Offal Court," Edward said after he finished. "When I return to the palace, I will remember your deeds."
The girls stared at him, confused and upset again by his strange words. Stifling sobs, they crept away to another pile of straw and whispered comforts to each other. Soon that corner became silent too.
As Edward lay upon the hard floor, he tried to pretend that he was lying on his palace bed. Tom's mother stayed close by, holding his hand. Perhaps it was his fatigue from the day's activities that made his eyes close. Or maybe it was the comfort of having a warm hand over his. Whatever the reason, he was sound asleep within minutes.
"Poor boy," Tom's mother thought. "He really believes he's a prince." She leaned closer and peered into his face. It looked like Tom’s, but . . .
"Something's different," she couldn't help thinking. She tried to convince herself that nothing was wrong. "Don't be foolish. Of course he's your son!"
She closed her eyes, hoping to sleep, but it was useless. She would have no peace until she could prove clearly, without question, that this boy was indeed her Tom.
She tossed and turned, trying to think up a way to prove his identity with certainty.
"My Tom has a funny habit," she remembered suddenly. Quickly she found a candle and lit it. Then she moved toward the sleeping boy and gently nudged him. Edward's eyes flew open, and he looked around him in a daze. Then he lay back down and slept.
Mrs. Canty's eyes widened. "When my son is startled from sleep, he puts a hand over his eyes with the palms facing out. But this boy . . ." She stared at Edward again. "He does nothing with his hands!"
Tom's mother decided to try again. She held the candle close to the boy's face so she could see better, and this time, she rapped the floor near his ear with her knuckles.
Edward's eyes flew open. He looked startled, but his arms moved nowhere near his face.
Grief filled Mrs. Canty. "How can this be?" she wondered. "He must be my boy. I cannot give up on him."
She knelt beside him and watched him sleep.
It was still dark when a sharp pounding sounded on the door.
"Canty! Open up!" a man shouted.
"The police are coming for you!" another one yelled.
"You hit Father Andrew," said a third. "And now he's in a bad way!"
Canty sat up, still groggy. "Up with all of you!" he commanded in a hoarse voice.
And the next thing Edward knew, the entire Canty family was out on the street and racing away from Offal Court.