“That cannot be,” said Arthur, shaking his head sadly—­“it is contrary to the pledge I gave for you and for myself.  But go not, go not, uncle.  Remember, uncle, if you will not take thought for yourself, that you are all that is left me—­all that stands between me and that wicked Clarenham.—­Gaston, persuade him.”

“Gaston would never persuade me to disgrace my spurs for the sake of danger,” replied Eustace.  “Have you no better learnt the laws of chivalry in the Prince’s household, Arthur?  Besides, remember old Ralph’s proverb, ‘Fore-warned is fore-armed.’  Think you not that Gaston, and honest Ingram, and I may not be a match for a dozen cowardly traitors?  Besides which, see here the gold allotted me to raise more men, with which I will obtain some honest hearts for my defence—­and it will go hard with me if I cannot find Sir Renaud’s secret door.”

“Then, if you will go, uncle, take, take me with you—­I could, at least, watch the door; and I know how to hit a mark with a cross-bow as well as Lord Harry of Lancaster himself.”

“Take you, Master Arthur?  What! steal away the Prince’s page that I have been at such pains to bring hither, and carry him to a nest of traitors!  Why, it would be the very way to justify Clarenham’s own falsehoods.”

“And of the blackest are they!” said Arthur.  “Think, uncle, of my standing by to hear him breathing his poison to the Prince, and the preventing him from searching to find out the truth, by pretending a regard for my father’s name, and your character.  Oh that our noble Prince should be deluded by such a recreant, and think scorn of such a Knight as you!”

“I trust yet to prove to him that it is a delusion,” said Eustace.  “Many a Knight at twenty-two has yet to make his name and fame.  Mine, thanks to Du Guesclin and the Prince himself, is already made, and though clouded for a time, with the grace of our Lady and of St. Eustace, I will yet clear it; so, Arthur, be not downcast for me, but think what Father Cyril hath taught concerning evil report and good report.  But tell me, how came you hither?”

“She—­that is, the person that warned me—­let me down from the window upon the head of the great gurgoyle, and from thence I scrambled down by the vines on the wall, ran through the court without being seen by the Squires and grooms, and found my way to the bridge, where happily I met John Ingram, who brought me hither.”

“She?” repeated Gaston, with a sly look in his black eyes.

“I have said too much,” said Arthur, colouring deeply; “I pray you to forget.”

“Forget!” proceeded the Squire, “that is sooner said than done.  We shall rack our brains to guess what lady can—­”

“Hush, Gaston,” said Eustace, as his nephew looked at him imploringly, “tempt not the boy.  And you, Arthur, must return to the palace immediately.”

“Oh, uncle!” said the boy, “may I not stay with you this one night?  It is eight weary months since I have ever seen you, save by peering down through the tall balusters of the Princess’s balcony, when the Knights were going to dinner in the hall, and I hoped you would keep me with you at least one night.  See how late and dark it is—­the Castle gates will be closed by this time.”