The Whipping Boy || Kokuzan/Michizan Vers. ||

Being an account of a great mix-up

Genya rummaged around in a black oak chest of stolen goods. Handkercheifs flew out like soiled white doves, worn shoes, ladies' combs, a cow-bell--- a junk heap. They've had lean pickings, this raggedy pair of highwaymen, Michikatsu thought. And maybe not so smart and clever as the song sellers made out.

"Here's a scrap of paper, Nemi," said Genya, finding it in the pocket of a stolen coat. "But how are we going to do the scribblement?" We can't write."

"I've seen it done. Sharpen us a hawk's feather, Genya."

"I'm hungry," complained Muzan. "I'll have a veal pie, sir!"

Sanemi ignored him. He poked around for a beet root and squeezed out the juice with his bare hand. It dripped like blood onto a China plate. "There's ink for you, Prince, Take the hawk's feather and scratch out our message."

Muzan folded his arms. "I don't take orders from curs and villans."

"Think of your father," said Sanemi. "He'll be ever so obliged to know you're safe and hearty."

"I told you I'm hungry!"

"You won't eat a bean till you do us the document."

"But I can't write!" blurted out Muzan.

"And crows can't fly!" erupted the big outlaw with a blast of garlicky breath. "You're a prince! Kings and such-like are learned to write and read soon as they tumble out of the cradle. Don't think you can pull the wool over our eyes. Hop to it!"

"But I can't so much as scratch my own name!"

Michikatsu shot a calculating glance at Muzan. His pesky life hardly seemed worth saving, but a scheme and leaped into his head. He might be able to trick these mangy outlaw into letting the prince go. And Michikatsu would be rid of the Prince Brat once and for all.

"Give me the hawk's quill. I'll write the words," he announced.

"That's right," Muzan chimed in. "My whipping boy knows his letters. Fall to Michikatsu."

"Hold on, said Sanemi, his sharp gaze flicking from one boy to the other. "This ignorant whipping boy knows his letters--- and the royal prince can't sign his own name. Something's amiss here."

"What are you thinking, Nemi?" asked Genya.

"I'm thinking these boys have mixed themselves up to flummox us."

Michikatsu lifted his chin arrogantly and tried to look as princelike as possible. "Nonsense! I'm a mere whipping boy."

The big man rumbled up a laugh, showing a mouthful of his teeth. "You take us for bedrock numskulls? Certain as eggs is eggs--- you're the prince. The genuine, straight-up-and-down Royal Highness!"

Muzan's expression went confused. "That ratty street orphan?" he bellowed, "That lowborn---"

"Silence!" Michikatsu commanded. "Can't you see the game is up? They're on to us. Hold your tongue!"

But I'm the prince! Muzan thought to himself.

Gosh.... Michikatsu thought. This haughty prince didn't have the sense of a gnat. Couldn't he see a plan afoot? "Save your breath!" snapped Michikatsu. "Stop giving yourself airs, you witless servant boy!"

"Servant boy!? Dare you address me---"

"Bag yur head," snapped Sanemi. "Give him a kick, Genya, if we hear another peep out of him."

"Hand me the hawk's feather," said Michikatsu. "I'll write my father, the king."