He turned to a subordinate and said, “Give the little fool a taste or two of the lash, to mend his manners.”

“Half a dozen will better serve his turn,” suggested Sir Hugh, who had ridden up, a moment before, to take a passing glance at the proceedings.

The King was seized. He did not even struggle, so paralysed was he with the mere thought of the monstrous outrage that was proposed to be inflicted upon his sacred person. History was already defiled with the record of the scourging of an English king with whips — it was an intolerable reflection that he must furnish a duplicate of that shameful page.

He was in the toils, there was no help for him; he must either take this punishment or beg for its remission. Hard conditions; he would take the stripes —