On the following day John summoned the leading nobles and commanders who had accompanied him to France to the great hall of the old castle of Mirabeau. Besides famous Salisbury, Lords Pembroke, Bigot, and Essex were in attendance, as well as knights and leading personages in great number. All awaited the Duke of Brittany with eager interest. They had heard so much about him since their arrival that many of them were greatly surprised and had besieged Salisbury with questions. Meanwhile Salisbury himself had not ventured to see the Duke, as the King had issued stringent orders that no one should be admitted to him. Arthur now realized that his fate was in John’s hands, and he was filled with fear and solicitude. He showed no traces of it, however, when he appeared in the hall attended by an armed escort. He was in his best apparel, which had been kept for him by Salisbury. Over a violet silk doublet he wore a short, gold-embroidered mantle of white satin and a scarf with the arms of the Plantagenets on it. Only the sword was lacking to complete the attire of knighthood. With a firm step and erect head he went directly in front of the King’s seat, bowed respectfully, lifting his cap and replacing it immediately, as was the right of one of equal birth. Then he looked about quietly upon the assemblage. The impression which he made is almost indescribable. Many remembered to have seen him with King Richard in Rouen and recalled the favor which his uncle had shown him. Others, who had never seen him, recognized with great emotion Duke Geoffrey’s face and figure reflected in his son. John also had observed the likeness, and it greatly disquieted him. A rustle and low murmurs were heard all over the hall until John spoke, and then deep silence prevailed.  
118
“It is not our fault, my nephew,” said he, “that I am receiving you here. It would not have been so had you accepted my invitation.”
 
“Your invitation, uncle?” replied Arthur, not addressing him by his royal title. “I know of no invitation except the one to surrender which your troops sent to our cities.”
 
119
“Well,” replied John with a show of irritation, “your mother, instead of applying to her husband’s family for protection, besought it of Philip Augustus, King of France.”
 
“And why was Geoffrey’s widow forced to seek for outside help, except that her legitimate protectors had become her enemies? No, my uncle, you cannot justify what has happened, but you can make reparation.”
 
“What do you mean?” said John.
 
“You well know my claims,” replied Arthur.
 
“And I scorn them,” said the King menacingly. “Bethink you. You are a prisoner. You should be more moderate of speech.”
 
“Imprisonment cannot make wrong right. It is more likely to add new wrongs to old ones.”
 
“Silence,” thundered John. “How does a mere worm, whom I can trample under my feet, dare to be so bold?”
 
120
Arthur’s hand involuntarily sought his missing sword. Blazing with anger, he exclaimed: “Shame upon you thus to abuse and threaten a prisoner! Even if you despise the ties of relationship, at least honor the obligations of knighthood, to which we both belong.” The knights present loudly applauded these words, occasioning much confusion. Thereupon John, chagrined as he realized he had gone too far, quietly observed: “I am the best judge of what is becoming to knighthood. The honor of the King stands higher still. You may retire, Duke Arthur.”
 
The King beckoned to the guards and Arthur was led away, taking with him the unmistakable sympathy of all present.
 
“You have heard, my lords, how this prisoner defies me,” resumed the King. A pause followed these words, and lasted until Salisbury came forward and said: “The Duke spoke the truth; and as it was youthful impulse which actuated him, I think, and many others with me, that he had sufficient excuse.”
 
“Lords Pembroke and Bigot, is that your opinion?” said the King.
 
121
Venerable Lord Pembroke calmly replied: “If the grade of kinship alone entitled him to the succession, Arthur would have the legitimate claim from his father, Geoffrey, your eldest brother. Nay, King, do not interrupt. Hear me out. We, the lords of England, recognized you as King after Richard’s death, though well aware that a nearer heir was living. But when we elevated you to the throne we took into consideration not alone the question of inheritance, but the welfare of England. The fearful struggle after the first Henry’s death, in which rivers of blood were shed, to decide who should wear the crown, is still fresh in the minds of the peo............