“Do you think, Hildebrand,” he questioned, “that I came here for this mummery in my father’s monument?”
“I never question your Majesty’s thoughts or deeds,” Hildebrand answered, deferentially. “They are oracles and miracles to your slave.”
The King’s face yielded a ready brightness to a flattery that never staled.
“I will tell you my true purpose instantly,” he said. “But first I have a task for you.”
He took Hildebrand by the arm and drew him through the first fringe of the pine wood to the space where Theron’s home stood, the mosque with its circle of pillars.
“What do you see?” he asked.
Hildebrand eyed the two beautiful ruins with frank indifference.
“Some pagan pillars,” he answered, “and the praying-place of the followers of Mahomet.”
“It is to my mind a lovelier shrine than the gaudy box we have just been gaping at,” Robert said; and then went on, answering the surprise in his companion’s face: “You shall learn why by-and-by. In the mean time know that it is the dwelling of Theron the executioner.”