“Nay, I did not admire anything about them,” John hastened to say.  “I saw that the King was cruel.  I believe well that he was also wicked.  But he seemed to have friends.  How can a bad man have friends?  And why do the people allow him to be their king?”

“Ah, John!” cried the Hermit, “it is not so easy to find a good king!  Perhaps his people do not care; perhaps they know no better.  Perhaps he is so powerful that they have no choice but to obey him.”

“Is the King so wicked?” asked John, wondering how the Hermit knew so much.  “What has he done that is bad?”

The old man hesitated; then he turned to John with a gesture that the boy did not understand.

“Listen, John,” he said.  “I will tell you some things that this King has done.  It is well that you should know.  Years ago, before you were born, he was not the lawful king in this Country.  The true king was his brother Cyril, who was good and kind, ruling wisely and well.  But suddenly he died.  Those in his service guessed that his brother Robert, this present King, had caused his death by poison.  So Robert became king.  A stormy time he had of it, at first; for the whole land loved King Cyril.  Many accused Robert, and refused to do him honor,—­especially one holy man, John, King Cyril’s friend and physician.  Yes, my son, he bore the same blessed name as yourself.  This man the people loved dearly, for he was wise and generous with his wisdom.  He healed them freely of their hurts.  He went about the country doing good, bringing love and good cheer wherever he went.  He was honored almost as a saint.  But because he dared lift his voice against the King—­he died.  No one knew how it happened.  At the same time his little son disappeared; men believed that he also was slain by the cruel King.  The people were furious; they stormed and threatened.  But alas! gradually the voices of their leaders were silenced.  Some died suddenly, as John had done.  Some disappeared.  Some were banished from the kingdom.  Some went away, broken-hearted; who knows where they may be now?”

“Oh, how could the people forget their King and the holy man who had been good to them?” cried John.  “How could they allow that bad man to be their king?”

“The people?” said the Hermit sadly.  “The people so soon forget!  Do you not recall how, ages ago, the people treated the best Man who ever lived?  These folk dared not seem to remember.  They were selfish and lazy.  The new King was rich and powerful.  They found it easier to grumble and do nothing else.  And when the King said, ‘Hunt!’ they hunted.  When he commanded, ‘Hate all animals; have no pets!’ they obeyed him.  But it is a gloomy land, a sad land, of which Robert is king!”

“Oh!” said John, “how do you know so much, my father?”

“Do not ask,” said the Hermit.  “One day I will tell you, but not now.”

“Oh, he is a wicked King, who ought to die!” burst out John, throwing up his arm angrily.  “Would I were a man, and I would go kill him.  But I will do it when I am grown!”