Chapter V: The Captured Favor

St. George's day was dropping into night. Since early morning the castle had been busy in the various ceremonies with which mediaeval England observed the feast of her patron Saint; the garrison had been paraded and inspected; the archers had shot for a gold bugle, and the men-at-arms had striven for a great two-handed sword; there had been races on foot and on horseback, and feats of strength and wrestling bouts; and the Duke himself had presided at the sports and distributed the prizes.

It was almost sundown when the last contest was over and the great crowd of spectators that had congregated within the outer bailey began to disperse. Richard had dismissed his attendants, with the exception of Ratcliffe, and leaning on the latter's arm he sauntered slowly across the stone-paved courtyard toward the keep.

"Methinks," said De Wilton, as he and De Lacy followed at some distance, "that the order we have so long expected must come to-morrow. And I, for one, shall be well content; it is many a long day since I saw London."

"Why so certain of to-morrow?" De Lacy asked.

"Because if His Grace intend to be present at the coronation, he may dally here no longer. . . Say you not so, Dacre?" as the latter joined them.

"Verily, yes," said Dacre, "and I have already directed my squire to prepare for the journey. Marry! it will be a joyous time in London."

"It is long since there was a peaceful crowning in fair England," observed De Lacy, "and I shall be glad indeed to see the pomp."

"It may not equal the splendors you have seen in France," remarked Dacre, "but there will be a goodly show nevertheless; something rather brighter than Yorkshire hills or Scottish heather."

"I have no quarrel with the heather," replied De Wilton, "but the hills are . . . well, not--so soft as the cheeks and eyes of the dames of the Court."

"In sooth," said De Lacy, "I am with you in that. To me a pretty face was ever more attractive than a granite crag."

"Both are handy in their places," said Dacre with a shrug. "Yet, Pasque Dieu! of the two it were not hard to choose the trustier."

"Go to!" exclaimed De Wilton; "it was not a gallant speech. You will have to mend your mind in London."

"Nay, Sir Ralph, my words, perhaps, but scarce my mind."

"It is the same thing there," De Wilton laughed.

At that moment the Master of Horse suddenly left the Duke and turned toward the stables.

"Busk yourselves for the road, fair sirs," he called, as he passed. "We march after matins to-morrow."

The news spread like the wind through the castle, but it occasioned neither confusion nor even bustle. The personal following of Richard of Gloucester were selected from veteran soldiers who were ever ready. They had but to don harness and mount horse when the route was sounded; and they could have ridden across the drawbridge at sundown, just as readily as the next morning.

In the antechamber that evening there was much discussion by the younger Knights as to the Duke's probable course; would he head the Nobility; would he aim for the Protectorship; would he remain quiescent and let the Woodvilles control? Those older in his service, however, were content to bide patiently the future, for long since had they learned the folly of trying to forecast the purposes of their silent leader.

And Sir Ralph de Wilton and Sir Henry de Vivonne were hot in the argument when Sir James Dacre arose and clapped De Lacy on the shoulder.

"Come along," he said. "These two gentlemen are vastly entertaining, doubtless, but I am for the presence chamber to make my adieux."

The Lady Mary Percy was reading aloud Chaucer's "Knight's Tale" when they were announced, but she quickly laid aside the heavy tome, and the Duchess paused in her embroidery and greeted them with a smile.

"I have seen nothing of you since you saved the Countess," she said, giving each a hand to kiss, "and I owe you both a heavy payment."

"And which, then, does Your Grace rate the higher: the Countess or her hat?" Dacre asked.

"I do not quite understand," said she.

"Sir Aymer de Lacy saved the Countess, and I saved the hat," he explained.

"And what did Lord Darby save?" the Lady Mary asked pertly.

Dacre smiled placidly.

"Nothing--not even his temper; the Countess saved that for him," he answered; and every one laughed--even the Duchess; though she shook her head at him, the while, in mock reproof.

"That forfeits your share of the reward," she said; then turned to De Lacy. "Some time, Sir Aymer, I must have a gallop beside the wonderful Selim."

De Lacy bowed low. "Why not on him?" he asked.

"Well, perhaps--when we all are together again."

"In London--or at Windsor?"

A faint shade of concern came into her eyes, and De Lacy's thoughts instantly recurred to the scene in the Duke's chamber the day he arrived.

"At Windsor, let us hope; the roads are charming there," she said, and then she resumed her embroidery.

"Be seated, sirs," she commanded.

"Come hither, Sir Aymer de Lacy," called the Lady Mary, who was sitting beside the Countess of Clare. . . "It just occurred to me to-day that I heard of you a year or so ago from a friend in France."

"It seems to me," said De Lacy, taking the low stool at her feet, "that I have a sure quarrel with your memory, either because it is laggard or because it is not."

"And which do you think it is?" she asked.

"I might guess the better if I knew your friend's name."

"Marie."

"Half the women of France are Maries."

"You were then at Blois."

"At the Court, you mean?"

She nodded. "And but lately returned from an expedition into Navarre."

De Lacy shook his head. "I cannot guess."

She gave him a knowing smile. "Who of the Princess Margaret's maids, think you, it might have been?"

"It might have been any one of three," he said, "but I will guess Mademoiselle d'Artois."

"At last! At last! . . . How rapidly your mind works under pressure. I wonder, sir, if you will remember us so promptly a year hence."

"Suppose we wait and see," De Lacy answered, and tried to catch the Countess' eye, but failed. Indeed, save for a quick smile of greeting when he joined them, she had given him not a single glance, but had kept her head bent over her needle.

Lady Mary drew down her pretty mouth. "If you can forget Marie d'Artois so soon, what chance have we?" she asked.

"But I have not forgotten her; we were quite too good friends for that."

"And she was quite too fascinating," the Lady Mary laughed.

"Aye, and quite too beautiful."

"Goodness, Beatrix, listen to the man," she exclaimed. "He has the bad taste to praise one woman, to another."

The Countess looked up. "Sir Aymer was lauding Mademoiselle d'Artois to me, last night," she said.

"Can it be, Lady Mary," De Lacy asked, "you do not know that two months since, Marie d'Artois was wedded to the Duc de Boiselle?"

For a moment Lady Mary was taken aback; then she laughed gayly and arose.

"I will leave you to discuss the other two Maries," she said, and moved away. . . "Perhaps they, too, are married," she added, over her shoulder.

De Lacy looked after her contemplatively.

"I wonder," said he, "why the Lady Mary Percy resents my preferring you to her."

"Do you?" the Countess asked--then held up her hand. "Stop, sir, you may not answer--I did but jest."

"And may I not answer . . . in jest?" leaning toward her.

She shook her head. "No, sir, you may not; and if you attempt it, I shall leave you instantly."

"Pardieu!" said he; "you are the most alluringly tantalizing woman I have ever known. The evening of the ride you would scarce look at me, but talked with Lord Darby all the time."

"He was making his farewells; he left the following morning."

De Lacy laughed. "Two hours of farewells! Doubtless, you were delegated to receive them for the Household."

The Countess was busy with her needle. "He seemed to wish it so," she said.

"And the next evening, when I asked you to walk on the wall, you well nigh froze me with the chill of your refusal."

"And will do so again to--Sir Aymer de Lacy."

"And the following morning, at the first asking, you rode with me for leagues."

She flashed a smile at him. "And may do the same again."

"And yet that very evening, when by accident I touched your hand, you turned your back upon me and ignored me for a day."

"And will do the same again," she answered calmly.

"And the next evening you talked with me for hours."

"And am ready to do the same to-night. You, too, may take your farewell of the entire suite through me--unless, of course, you have tired of my foolish vagaries."

"Methinks I am quite satisfied to be classed with Lord Darby in the matter of farewells; and as for the vagaries, they may be tantalizing but, believe me, they are far more winning."

She held up a cautioning finger.

"I prefer your arraignment to your compliments," she said. "Methinks I told you once before of my dislike for flattery."

"That was to Sir Ralph de Wilton . . . the night you walked with him on the wall."

"True, so it was," she laughed; "but you were there and heard it."

He casually picked up a skein of silk that had slipped to the floor, but finding her eyes upon him gave it to her straightway.

"Why not walk now on the ramparts with Sir Ralph?" he asked very low and earnestly.

For an instant she seemed to hesitate; then she looked at him and shook her head.

"I may not," she said. "I have promised the evening to Sir Aymer de Lacy . . . for two hours of farewells."

But the two hours were very brief, indeed; for almost immediately De Vivonne and De Wilton arrived, and shortly thereafter came Sir Richard Ratcliffe and Sir Robert Brackenbury, and the talk became general. And presently Richard himself entered; and when he withdrew the Duchess went with him and the gathering broke up; and De Lacy got no more than a casual word of farewell from the Countess.

In the morning all was activity. The bailey resounded with the stamp of hoofs, the neighing of horses, and the rattle of armor, as the three hundred and more men-at-arms assembled before the keep, awaiting the order to fall in. The under officers stood apart conversing, but glancing, ever and anon, toward the main stairway in anticipation of the coming of the Duke or one of his suite. Presently the dark face of Ratcliffe appeared at the door; and after a quick glance about he waved his hand. Instantly the blare of the trumpet lifted every man into saddle; and in another moment, that which seemed but a confused mass had disentangled itself and swung into a square of glittering steel, over which the morning sunbeams rippled in waves of silver as the horses moved in restlessness.

De Lacy was standing before the entrance, watching the soldiery, when a page hurriedly summoned him to the Duke.

He found Gloucester in the lower hall, booted and spurred for the road, and pacing slowly back and forth, his head upon his breast. He was dressed entirely in black, and his heavy cloak, lined with fur, lay on a near-by bancal. He carried his gauntlets in his right hand, and every step or two would strike them sharply against the top of his high boot. Catesby, Brackenbury and Ratcliffe were gathered a bit apart, talking in low tones. They glanced up when De Lacy appeared, and as he halted just within the doorway, waiting for the Duke to address him, Brackenbury spoke:

"My lord, Sir Aymer de Lacy is here."

Richard wheeled abruptly. "Come hither," he said, and led the way toward the window. "Do you know the country or people in the region of Kirkstall Abbey?"

"No, my lord," said De Lacy. "I have never been north of Pontefract."

"Then you are the one for the purpose. A dozen men-at-arms have been detailed for you; take them and proceed direct to Craigston Castle and deliver to Sir John de Bury this letter. I ride to York to-day and South to-morrow. If you hasten, you can rejoin me at Nottingham. Do you understand?"

"Perfectly, my lord."

"Then away. Come, gentlemen!" and the Duke walked briskly to the stairway.

As he came within view of those in the courtyard, there arose a mighty shout that echoed from the walls and keep. Gloucester's calm face relaxed in a slight smile and he waved his hand in response. Then scarce touching his foot to the stirrup which Catesby held he leaped into saddle. The trumpet rang out, and the horsemen, breaking from square into column, filed out of the courtyard and across the outer bailey.

Gloucester had tarried, meanwhile, to speak a final word to Sir Robert Wallingford; and when he had finished, the last clatter of hoofs on the drawbridge had ceased. As the Constable stepped back with a farewell salute, Richard's quick eye discerned the face of the Duchess at an upper window. Swinging his charger in a demi-volte, he doffed bonnet and flung her a kiss with his finger tips.

"_Au revoir, amante_," he called.

She smiled sweetly upon him and answered his kiss; then stood watching him as he rode rapidly away, followed by his attendant Knights, until the dark arch of the distant gateway hid him from her sight.

A few moments later Sir Aymer de Lacy came riding across the courtyard with his escort. He had changed his suit of velvet for one of steel; for being ignorant both of the country into which he was about to travel and of what manner of adventure might lie before him, he had deemed it well to have something more than silken doublet between his heart and a cloth-yard shaft. His visor was raised, and as he passed the keep, he looked up at every window. All were deserted, however, and he was about to turn away when, suddenly, a casement swung open and the Countess of Clare appeared in the stone-framed opening.

"_Au revoir_," she cried, and waved her kerchief.

Then by some mischance the bit of lace slipped from her fingers and floated slowly downward. She made a quick grasp for it, but it had sunk beyond her reach. A puff of wind spread it wide and carried it out toward De Lacy. He watched it as it dropped, bringing Selim almost to a stand to keep beneath it, and at length it rested upon his extended hand.

"I claim my favor, fair Countess," he called, and wound it round the crest of his helmet--then loosened rein and dashed away.