r subjects, at their too
great liberty; at the touch of those who claim to be friends, at the
whisper of a foe's voice. They have taught themselves that they rule
by divine right, yet they move by day and by night like any thief who
carries booty beneath his cloak when he walks before those in
authority, or like one who is wounded unto death who would hide his
wound from a strong adversary. Your Uncle John fears you, Arthur,
because his throne is yours by right--if there were such a thing as
right to any throne. And he has willed that you must die. He has
appointed me . . . but there, I must to my task. No struggling,
now--no resistence. It will be better so. The king's will be done."

He would have summoned his attendants then, but Prince Arthur stayed
him with one more question. "And how would you take my life, dear
Hubert?" he asked in a gentle voice.

But this the chamberlain would not tell him. Instead he stamped on the
floor and the two attendants entered hurriedly, one bearing a hot iron
and the other a cord with which to bind the prince's hands and feet.
"These," said Hubert, "will make plain the manner of the deed."

But Arthur only clapped his hands in mirth. "It is your way of
jesting, Hubert," he said, "to amuse me." But there was a catch in his
voice as he continued, "It is your way of driving away the shadows
which hang about me always. Dear Hubert, I know what a kind heart you
have!"

But despite these brave words he turned pale and suddenly clapped his
hands to his eyes to shut out the terrible vision he had beheld.

Hubert cried out huskily to the attendants, "Bind him--and be quick!"

With this the attendants seized the prince, one on either side. Yet
they paused when they perceived that the prince wished to speak: a
final word to the chamberlain. The boy had turned upon Hubert a calm
glance. A strange stillness had come over him. He spoke in a low,
intense voice--

"Do not permit them to bind me," he said. "It would be shameful for a
prince to be bound. I know you were not speaking in jest, but please
do not let them bind me, as if I were a slave. I shall think of you as
my friend--as long as my hands are free. Come, Hubert . . . do you
recall how, when your head once ached, I put my handkerchief about it
to comfort you? It was one that a princess did make for me. Remember
how I have loved you--and do not let them bind me!"

His plea prevailed. "So--then they shall not!