"I could not bear to have them looking, Hubert," he said. "It will be
easier, just we two alone. I am ready now."

It was then that Hubert gripped Arthur by the shoulder; he brought the
hot iron close to his face. And then again his resolution failed him.
His hand trembled; he paused. Presently he was gazing away over the
prince's head, almost as if he saw a vision, and his hand on the boy's
shoulder slowly relaxed.

"A strange lad!--a strange lad!" he mused. And then looking
wonderingly at Arthur he added, "The agony is gone from your eyes when
you look at me now. And yet it is I who would destroy you--not those
fellows who made you tremble so!"

The prince drew himself up with unconscious pride. "I would rather
suffer at the hands of those I love than receive benefits from
hirelings," he said.

But Hubert shook his head darkly. "Hirelings?" he repeated. "Ah, who
is not a hireling, when a king may have his way? Who can call his
honor his own, when a crown is counted a more sacred thing than a man's
soul?" He paused in silence again and then added almost
banteringly--yet with a note of earnestness, too--"Come, boy, the young
have wary eyes and swift feet. Can you not flee and escape from the
wrath and fear of your uncle the King?"

But Arthur shook his head. "I think when your work is done, dear
Hubert," he said, "the fear of the king and his wrath will trouble me
no more."