But Arthur was to live. Hubert thought of a poor sightless boy groping his way about a cell; and he was the one to give the orders that this should be done.

How can I? he asked himself as he rode along. And then: How can I not?

In due course he reached the castle.

He was greeted by Sir William de Braose and his forthright lady.

‘Why has the King decided to change Arthur’s jailer?’ asked Matilda.

‘I know not,’ replied Hubert, for he was wondering why, if such an order had been given to him, it should not have been to William de Braose. He wondered what Sir William’s reactions would have been but he dared not ask. He dared not mention the matter. Not that he wanted to. It sickened him so much that he wanted to thrust it out of his thoughts.

‘But you are glad to be relieved of the duty?’ asked Hubert.

‘I like not to be jailer to a royal boy,’ said Sir William.

‘He’s a child at heart,’ said Matilda quite fondly. ‘I’m beginning to feel he is like one of my own. He needs affection, that boy. I think he could be happy if no one had ever talked to him about a throne and let him play and learn to be a knight like someone of simpler birth.’

‘I can see you have been kind to him.’

‘Who knows,’ said Sir William, ‘when the tables might be turned.’

But it was not only this thought, Hubert knew, which had made them care for the boy. There was a tenderness in most people for the young.

He was taken to the rooms in which Arthur was confined, and Sir William presented him.

‘This is Hubert de Burgh who is coming to take our place.’

The boy received Hubert with a touch of hauteur. Poor child, thought Hubert, you little know what fate is in store for you. For all his dignity young Arthur was summing up his new jailer and Hubert’s heart smote him, for behind the regal manner cowered a frightened boy. How shall I do it? he kept asking himself. How can I do that to such a child … ? Could I do it to the veriest villain? Perhaps. But to a boy. God help me.

Two days later the Braoses left.


Hubert felt that if he got to know his captive he might be able to warn him in some way; he might be able to discover something of his nature. He would sit with him and talk and he often found himself staring at those fine blue eyes and imagining what that face would look like without them.

Between Arthur and Hubert there began to grow a friendship which Arthur had not felt for the Braoses. Matilda had been too managing, Sir William too aloof. It was not so with Hubert. There was a sadness about him which matched Arthur’s own and Hubert’s voice was often very gentle, though sometimes it would be harsh as though he were angry with Arthur simply because he existed; then he would seem to repent and be almost womanish in his attitude. Arthur found this intriguing and for the first time since his captivity he forgot his misfortune.

Hubert noticed that he was laughing more readily; that often for hours he would forget he was a captive. Once he said: ‘How glad I am you came, Hubert.’

‘Why so?’ said Hubert, suddenly in one of his gruff moods. ‘Was not Sir William de Braose a good castellan?’

‘You are more than a good castellan, Hubert. You are a friend. Do you know, Hubert, that’s what I haven’t had before. A friend. It is hard for someone in my position to have a true friend. One can never be sure that they might not want something. But what can you want from me? Here I am your prisoner … and since you came, Hubert, there have been times when I have been glad to be here.’

Oh God, help me, prayed Hubert. I can never do it.

‘Why, there are tears in your eyes, Hubert. I would never have thought that of you.’

‘’Tis a kind of rheum which affects me.’

Arthur laughed aloud and seized him suddenly in a great hug.

‘You lie, Hubert de Burgh. You are a man of emotion, and you are glad … yes, you are glad … that you and I have had this chance to become friends. Confess it.’

‘Well, perhaps I am, but …’

Arthur laughed. ‘Say no more. Come, I’ll beat you at the chess board. I have to have my revenge, you know, for the last time.’

Together they bent over the chess board.

How clear his eyes are, thought Hubert, and he remembered horribly mutilated men who had offended their kings or their overlords in some way.

It is necessary for the peace of the country, he said to himself.

‘No, no,’ he said aloud. ‘I will never do it.’

‘You are right,’ cried Arthur. ‘The next move I have you.’

He had lifted clear limpid eyes to Hubert.

When he looks at me like that I know I never will, thought Hubert de Burgh.


They talked together. Arthur told him of his childhood, how he had been scurried from one place to another.

‘I soon became aware that I was important and I seemed to be in perpetual danger. I used to think it would have been better not to be so important.’

‘It is always better not to be too important,’ agreed Hubert.

‘There are always people trying to take what is yours. What do you think of my uncle John?’

‘Only that he is the King.’

‘Which many say he should not be. But you are his man, Hubert, I know that, so I would not attempt to trick you into treachery against him. What do you think of him as a man?’

‘I know him only as a king.’

‘They say he has a wicked temper. I must confess when I was with him he frightened me a little. I wouldn’t admit that to anyone but you. I have heard terrible stories of him, Hubert.’

‘In his temper he can act impulsively,’ said Hubert, ‘even against himself.’

‘Perhaps one day he will do himself an injury,’ said Arthur hopefully. ‘I hope he never comes here. Do you think he will?’

‘I know not.’

‘I wish I could see my sister. I wonder what he has done with her. Do you think she is a prisoner as I am?’

‘I have heard that she is in Bristol Castle in England and that she is being treated very well there.’

‘I am glad of that. Of course he would not fear her unless I were dead. Oh, Hubert, that has just occurred to me. If I died then by right she would be the next heir to the throne. What would that mean?’

‘You are young, my lord, to speak of death.’

‘Yet I am in such a position that it could occur to me at any time.’

‘Not with me here to guard you.’

‘That’s a comforting thought, Hubert. I tell myself that sometimes. I lie awake and in the night with the darkness all around me, fears come. Sometimes I think, What if men come creeping into my prison to kill me on King John’s commands? That could be, for he does not like me to be alive. I am a threat to him. So many people would rather see me in his place. Then I think: It’s all right. Hubert is here and he will protect me.’

Hubert nodded. ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘I will protect you.’

‘So then I go to sleep and in the morning I just laugh at my night fears. It’s in the night that I like to remember that you are not far off. But I do think a great deal of Eleanor. She is older than I am, you know, and when we were little she used to look after me. I liked being with her then. I wish they had put us together. It would have been pleasant if we could have both been here in Falaise with you, Hubert. You would like Eleanor. She is serene – more so than I, I think, but that is doubtless because she is older. She was never jealous because more was made of me … being a boy. My mother was always stressing how important I was. But it does bother me a little that she is the second in the line of succession. If it was fair, of course, she would really come before John.’

‘The direct succession is not considered so important,’ Hubert pointed out. ‘Although the people like a king’s son to follow him, if that son is not worthy then they would rather have the next in line. And as your sister is a girl I don’t think there would be any thoughts of putting her on the throne.’

‘No, I suppose not. I am the true heir and my sons will be next. I’d love to have sons. I wonder what my sons will be like?’

Hubert closed his eyes. I shall never do it, he thought. Each day it becomes more difficult.

‘What ails you, Hubert? Are you tired today?’

‘Nay, I am not tired.’

‘You are in one of your sad moods. Cheer up. I like to see you gay, Hubert.’

And so it went on; and each day they seemed to grow a little closer to each other.


It was hardly likely that the Bretons would remain passive while their Duke was a prisoner. It was soon known that he was in the castle of Falaise and reports came to the castle that parties of Bretons were riding into Normandy the object of each being to have the honour of rescuing their Duke.

Arthur was excited, for Hubert could not resist telling him the news. They stood at a window together looking out on the road.

Arthur said: ‘Why, Hubert, I think you are hoping they will come and take the castle.’

‘How can you say such a thing?’

‘I know you well. I know your moods. I can almost feel your excitement. What would happen if they came here?’

‘There would be a siege.’

‘And you would be on one side, I on the other – you holding them out, I longing for them to break in. Oh, Hubert, what a pity! You and I should be together … on the same side. I hope we shall be one day. When I gain what is mine by right, you will be my chief adviser perhaps. We shall always be together. You will be my best friend and I shall always remember these days because, Hubert, since you came everything is different.’

Hubert did not trust himself to speak. He pretended to be scanning the horizon.