  The report of the King’s approaching departure had attracted a great throng of spectators to the bank of the Seine, opposite the tower. They were curious to see the King, but more eager to see the Duke of Brittany, whose name was heard on every side. Vessels of moderate size could come close up to the gates on the water side, which closed the entrance to the tower. Two boats were in waiting some distance off. The smaller was fully manned, and loaded with chests and bales, ready for departure. The deck of the larger, which floated the royal ensign, was empty, the crew being below. It was late when the signal for leaving was given. The gates were opened, torch-bearers advanced and lighted the stairs, which were flanked by two rows of halberdiers. Between them, knights, soldiers, and nobles, with the Duke in their midst, descended. Arthur stopped upon the stair an instant, looking about as if in search of some one, but he was quickly forced along to the gangway leading from the stairs to the boat. He and his guards had hardly stepped aboard when the King’s approach was announced. John immediately appeared, mounted the deck, and disappeared below. The rowers struck out, the sails filled, and the vessel moved to the middle of the stream. The boat with the baggage followed a little distance away from it. A dark figure rose from time to time in the bows, eagerly scrutinizing the King’s vessel. It was Alan in sailor’s dress, on the lookout for Arthur. The deck of the other vessel, however, remained empty for some time. It gleamed white in the light of the rising moon; its masts and sails were sharply outlined against the clear night sky, and only the monotonous plash of oars broke the stillness. The assassination of Arthur But when the city was left behind and the vessel was gliding along between the deserted banks of the rushing river, two figures appeared on deck and gradually proceeded to the stern, which was clearly visible to Alan. He could see it was the King and Arthur engaged in conversation, and could even distinctly hear some of their words. Arthur was in modest attire, and his short mantle was carelessly worn. King John was dressed in a broad dark cloak which left one arm free, and wore a fur-trimmed cap. The speakers stood some distance apart, but as the conversation continually grew louder, it was perfectly audible to Alan. The familiar sound of Arthur’s voice deeply touched his heart, and he eagerly listened to its tones. Suddenly he heard the King’s questioning voice full of sullen rage, and Arthur’s loud, firm reply to him, “Never, never!” At the same time he saw the Duke with upturned face raise his hands to heaven in a supplicating manner. As Arthur stood thus, facing the King with unprotected breast, the latter sprang at him. A dagger gleamed in his hand, and like a flash he drove the blade into the Duke’s heart. A dreadful cry followed, and was repeated by the echo of another voice. The King lifted the weapon and pierced his victim a second time. The dying youth staggered to the edge of the vessel and fell into the river. The King looked searchingly over the side and then flung the dagger into the stream. Forgetting all caution, Alan leaned over in his boat, watching with horror-stricken eyes the crimsoned water in the wake of the King’s vessel. A golden ringlet rose and glistened in the moonlight for an instant; then the waves closed over it, and it disappeared. Proudly sailed the vessel bearing the King to its haven. Sunk and forever lost in the waters of the Seine was the Duke of Brittany. |
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