several days had passed since arthur entered the tower of mirabeau, where by salisbury’s orders a large and well-furnished room was provided for him. he not only had all the necessities for comfort, but much personal pleasure, for famous english visitors to mirabeau were permitted to call upon him. whenever he appeared upon the walls in the company of an attendant, the soldiers of the garrison hastened to see him. he greeted them in such a cordial yet dignified manner that many a hearty benediction was uttered by them.
salisbury himself visited him almost daily, and manifested the utmost concern for the welfare of his famous cousin. upon such occasions arthur frequently spoke of england and indulged in fancies of what he would do if he were king.
“silence,” said salisbury, with a smile. “i must not listen. you are talking high treason.”
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at the very outset of his imprisonment arthur had longed for an interview with his grandmother, queen eleanor. she declined seeing him, however, until she had ascertained john’s intentions. but just at this time she had a letter from her son, in which he wrote: “i shall be with you in a few days. having performed all your duties to the prince hitherto, see to it in some way that he is harmless in the future.”
the queen clearly understood the double meaning of his words and considered the best means for carrying out his wishes. one day she abruptly said to salisbury, “bring your prisoner to me in the morning.” as he hesitated about replying, she added in the most insolent manner, “i hear continually about your intercourse with the duke, and it does not please me, my lord.”
“by my long sword,” replied salisbury impetuously, “i would rather be the object of your suspicion than have you cause the prince to suffer.”
“is he really as captivating as that?” said eleanor, changing her tone. “i notice the people take no pains to conceal their admiration of his fine face and knightly bearing.”
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“he is—and you may as well know it,” replied salisbury—“he is a plantagenet from head to foot; and those who doubt it, or seek to make others doubt it, have malicious designs.”
“when we have recognized him as a plantagenet and our grandson, it will be time to award him his proper rank. we will see him in the morning.”
salisbury looked sharply at the queen, as if to discover her purpose, but one of his honest, straightforward nature could not read this crafty woman. he determined, however, to watch over arthur with increased vigilance, for—and the reason he could hardly explain himself—the youth had won his love and devotion.
while arthur was attending mass the next morning with salisbury, the queen was arranging for the interview with the son of the hated constance in her apartment. two soldiers of the royal bodyguard submissively received her orders. as she sat at a table covered with papers and writing materials she heard the gong strike the hour which marked the close of the morning service.
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“step behind those doors,” she said to the soldiers, “and await this signal. as soon as you hear me strike that metal cup with this silver key, enter, overpower and bind the prisoner, then do what i shall order. but hold! before you go, make a hotter fire in that brazier so that the irons may be heated—now, go.”
the guard disappeared behind the door, and eleanor, gazing fixedly at the irons in the coals, said to herself: “‘let him be made harmless in the future,’ john says; well, a blind man is harmless enough. he will not fascinate people when he has lost his sight. a blind king never can rule over england.”
steps were heard in the passage leading to the apartment, and as the queen turned her head, she saw arthur and salisbury entering. arthur stopped a moment, awaiting a greeting from the queen, who sat in silence. as he approached her and she observed his noble figure and beautiful face, she suddenly rose and put out her hands as if to keep him off.
“will you send me away? will you not speak to your grandson?” said arthur reproachfully.
“my grandson!” said eleanor, with her eyes bent upon him. “no—my son—geoffrey.”
“yes,” said salisbury, “one might fancy geoffrey had come back to life.”
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“oh! that it were so, if it would only give me his mother’s love!” exclaimed arthur, kneeling and taking the queen’s hand.
“do not recall him,” replied eleanor passionately. “geoffrey scorned his mother’s love. i loved him better than any of my sons, and he gave his heart to constance of brittany, whom i detest.”
“you speak of my mother,” quickly replied arthur. “oh, she is good and noble. what has she done that you should hate her so?”
“what has she done?” replied eleanor. “she alienated my son from me. he no longer loved me. he no longer listened to my advice. he was disloyal.”
“was your advice always sound?” asked salisbury, with great earnestness. “be fair, queen. remember, it was your advice that led geoffrey into rebellion against his king and father.”
“no more of that, salisbury,” interposed eleanor.
“no,” resumed arthur. “let bygones be bygones. be reconciled to my mother. i will love you both, if you will only permit it, grandmother.”
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there was deep emotion in his supplicating tone and looks, and eleanor was touched by it. she stood for a moment reflecting; then, turning to salisbury, she said, “leave us.”
salisbury withdrew slowly and reluctantly, but ready to return at the first summons. eleanor looked earnestly at the duke as she said: “listen, arthur. i am old, but i am still capable of love and of hatred. i could love you, image of my favorite son, and so exalt you that you would never need again to wear philip’s armor. if i so wish, john will choose you as his successor, and will so engage upon his kingly honor. john must obey my wishes and the consent of all england will follow. i can give you the crown. i now proffer it to you, but upon one condition.”
“and what is that?” asked arthur with trembling voice.
“you must accompany me to england and cut loose from all you leave in france. the pope will dissolve your union with the princess marie. you must declare war against philip augustus.”
“and my mother?”
“you must leave her to her fate.”
“never!” cried arthur. “oh, you are heartless, grandmother. if i thought my heart was capable of such wickedness, i would tear it out of my breast.”
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“once more i leave you free to make a decision. choose,” said eleanor.
“i never will choose disgrace!” exclaimed arthur.
eleanor stepped to the table and took the silver key from the metal cup. as she raised her hand to strike, her gaze fell upon arthur’s eyes, which were glistening as if he were inspired. “no,” she muttered, “i cannot do it. they are geoffrey’s eyes.” the key fell upon the soft carpet from her helpless hand. “leave me,” she said. “let us never see each other again in this life.” she placed her hands upon arthur’s shoulders and looked at him long and earnestly. then she sadly withdrew them and turned away. arthur hurried from the apartment and met salisbury, who had been waiting for him at the threshold. when eleanor found she was alone, she stamped her foot and summoned the guards. “take that away,” she said, pointing to the brazier; “the fire is dead.”
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during arthur’s visit to the queen, reports of the interview and of eleanor’s evil designs against her grandson spread through the city. there was great excitement, and open threats were made against her. as arthur mounted the stairs with salisbury he was greeted with loud applause by soldiers and knights in the castle yard. “here he is,” shouted those nearest him. “he lives,” said others, and suddenly all joined in the enthusiastic cry, “long live arthur plantagenet!” the duke, overcome with surprise, waved his hand and thanked them. then he followed salisbury, who made a passage for him through the crowd with some difficulty. the shouts were audible in the apartment of the queen, where, concealed behind a curtain, she was watching the throng below.
the dangerous excitement hastened her decision to deliver arthur to the king. she might possibly have changed her intentions had not john entered mirabeau that same evening with his army. as soon as he was alone with his mother, he inquired about arthur, and broke into a fury of passion when he found that nothing had happened to the prisoner. his rage increased when he learned of the favorable impression his nephew had made upon the english troops and that eleanor herself had shown a disposition to sympathize with him. “how is it,” he cried, “that i find you negotiating with arthur, especially when unexpected events have thrown him into my power? are you helping him, mother? go, go! you have grown old and weak. i care nothing for his adherence to my cause or for philip’s assistance. possession and right are on my side.”
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“the right!” replied eleanor. “ask your conscience in what manner king henry’s will gave you that right.”
“silence,” said john. “i know that i am indebted to your cunning; but still you must remain loyal to me.”
“i know that,” replied eleanor, “but listen to my advice.”
“enough for the present,” said john. “we will think about the matter to-morrow morning, mother.”
arthur had passed the day alone, as neither salisbury nor any of the knights had been to see him. about dark the watch, who came every evening to see that all was well, entered his room. contrary to his usual custom he greeted arthur curtly and was about to retire. thereupon arthur said to him, “how is it, captain norbert, that you have nothing to tell me to-day? you usually bring me some news.”
“news is not always good news, gracious prince,” replied the captain significantly.
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“do you mean not good for me? what is it? explain,” said arthur.
the captain approached nearer and said in a low voice, “king john, your uncle, has arrived,” upon which he left so suddenly that arthur could not question him further.
the intelligence weighed heavily upon him. up to this time he had supposed that imprisonment, longer or shorter, would be the worst that could happen to him, but now he felt a misgiving that john would make a final decision as to his fate, and the hopelessness of the situation depressed his usually cheerful nature. with ardent longing he yearned to see his mother, marie, and alan; at last, overcome with sorrow, he wept bitter tears.
