“Yes, Sire; to lie as if wounded on your bed.”
“He did that?” cried the King; and Leoni slowly bent his head.
“Then he has the making of a king within his breast. Brave boy!” cried Francis; and he was silent for a few moments, while bending over the side of the boat he scooped up the clear cold water in his hand and drank again and again.
“Hah!” he cried. “That gives me power to think. Did I understand you aright that I am escaping and have left that boy to bear the brunt of my folly, to suffer for my madness imprisonment and maybe death?”
The doctor bent his head.
“Leoni,” cried the King passionately, “is this acting like a king?”
“Sire, it is not for you to ask, nor yet for you to judge of this. Your brave young esquire felt it to be his task, and he volunteered to play his part, as either of us would have done. It was to save your life, your servant’s duty at a time like that.”
“And you tell me that it is my duty as a king to sacrifice that boy just entering the dawn of his young manhood so that I might live?”
“Yes, Sire; for your subjects’ sake.”
“I am the King, and judge of this. A thousand times no! It shall not be.”