‘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.
But no Bretons reached the castle. This was one occasion when John really did arouse himself and he went into action to make sure that they were turned out of Normandy.
He sent a message to the castle, and when Hubert heard that the King’s emissary had come and would speak with him alone his heart sank because he guessed what the orders would be.
He received him in his bedchamber and shut the door so that none could hear.
‘What news?’ he asked.
‘The King’s orders are for your ears alone. The Duke of Brittany is to be fettered.’
‘Fettered! He is safe enough here. I have guards. I watch over him myself.’
‘The King’s orders. There is another. The King says that you are to do your duty as commanded by him. He expects news without delay.’
Hubert bowed his head.
As he feared, the time had come.
‘Must I wear these fetters, Hubert?’
‘It is the King’s orders that you should.’
‘But I didn’t before.’
‘No, but since then, as you know, your supporters have been trying to reach you.’
‘So the King is afraid of them?’
‘It would seem so.’
‘To be fettered so! It is humiliating for a prince.’
‘For all men,’ replied Hubert. ‘They have their feelings just like princes.’
‘But the higher a man is in rank the deeper the humiliation.’
‘I’ll tell you what,’ said Hubert. ‘When you and I are together we will undo the fetters.’
‘You don’t like to see me chained any more than I like it myself, Hubert.’
‘Of course I don’t.’
‘Because at heart, Hubert, you care for my welfare, do you not? I believe you hoped my friends would come and take me away.’
There was a lump in Hubert’s throat.
‘You did. You did,’ cried Arthur. ‘Confess it.’
‘For your sake, yes.’
‘Oh dear, dear Hubert. And let me tell you this. I thought: If they take me, what of Hubert? John will be so angry. What will he do to Hubert? For he will blame him. I couldn’t bear that, Hubert. He is such a wicked man. He does terrible things to those who anger him. I would take you with me, Hubert. Yes, I would. I had thought it all out. I was going to tell them: Bind Hubert de Burgh. Make him my prisoner. That was what I was going to do. I would have changed our positions … and then we could have stayed friends.’
‘But it did not come to pass,’ said Hubert.
And to himself he said: Oh God, I wish it had.
There was another messenger at Falaise. He too came from the King. He wished to know if Hubert de Burgh had a message for the King.
‘The time has not yet come,’ said Hubert.
‘I was told to say that the King expects to have news soon. He grows impatient with delay.’
‘He shall have news soon,’ said Hubert, and he stood at a turret window watching the messenger ride away.
He knew now that the moment had come. All he had to do was give the order and merely stand by and see it carried out.
He shut himself in his bedchamber. He knelt and cried out to God to show him a way out of this terrible situation in which he found himself. But there was no way. He tried to persuade himself. John was right up to a point. There could not be peace while Arthur lived – but if he were a poor maimed creature no one, not even the Bretons, could wish to see him on the throne.
Better for the boy to die, a thousand times better.
There was no way, of course. That was clear. He had no recourse but to carry out the King’s orders.
He sent for two attendants, loutish men who would perform any deed for money. He knew that they had been used before for brutal tasks and found a certain pleasure in performing them.
They would do their work and do it quickly, which was best.
He spoke to them and told them what the King’s orders were.
‘’Tis so, my lord,’ cried one. ‘And not surprised am I. I’ve been waiting for it.’
‘When the deed is done,’ said Hubert, ‘you two will go from here. You will not mention a word of what has happened. You know the punishment for such as you who think fit to chatter.’
‘We’ll be silent as the grave, my lord. When should the work be done?’
‘Soon,’ said Hubert firmly. ‘Let us have done with it.’
‘We’ll do it with the irons, my lord.’
Hubert was shivering.
‘Go to,’ he said turning away. ‘Be ready and wait upon my call.’
He went to his room; he knelt and prayed for strength.
‘I would I had died before I were called upon to do this,’ he whispered. Then he rose and went into that room which was now a prison cell and which he feared would shortly be the scene of the greatest tragedy of his life. It would haunt him for ever more, and make him wish he had never been born to play a part in it.
‘Hubert, ’tis you then. Welcome. Come, take off my fetters. Is it to be chess? Why, what ails you?’
‘My boy, I feel unwell today.’
‘You are ill? What is it? Tell me. Something terrible has happened. They are going to take you away. I shall never see you any more.’
Hubert sat down and covered his face with his hands.
‘It’s true,’ cried Arthur. ‘I shan’t allow it, Hubert. Let’s run away from here, together. We’ll escape to Brittany. High honours shall be yours. We won’t worry about the crown and John and all that. We’ll just be friends as we have been here.’
Hubert did not answer.
‘Hubert, Hubert, look at me.’
He pulled Hubert’s hands from his face and stared at him aghast.
‘I never saw such sorrow in a face,’ said Arthur.
Hubert put him from him and stood up. He clapped his hands and the two men came in with the brazier and the irons.