"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 d.u.c.h.ess 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 a.s.sembled 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 antic.i.p.ation 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 ma.s.s 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 hors.e.m.e.n, 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 d.u.c.h.ess 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 pa.s.sed the keep, he looked up at every window. All were deserted, however, and he was about to turn away when, suddenly, a cas.e.m.e.nt 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.
VI
A WAYSIDE SKIRMISH
For a s.p.a.ce Sir Aymer rode alone at the head of the column without even casting a glance behind or addressing a word to his squire. Presently the road forked and turning half around in his saddle, he inquired: "Which leads to Kirkstall Abbey?"
"The straightaway one, my lord; the other would carry you back to Wakefield," said the elderly under-officer, whose hair, where it had strayed from under his casquetel, was silvered, and across whose weather-beaten face, from chin to temple, ran a bright red scar.
"The battlefield?"
"The same, sir."
"Ride beside me," said De Lacy. "Did you fight at Wakefield?"
"I did, fair sir--it was a b.l.o.o.d.y field."
"The Duke of York died that day."
"Aye, sir--I stood not ten feet from him when he fell. He was a brave knight, and our own Gloucester much resembles him in countenance."
"You have seen many battles, my man?"
"Since the first St. Albans I have missed scarce one. It is a trade that came into the family with my grandsire"s sire."
"And do your children follow it, as well?"
"Not so, my lord. Raynor Royk has none to succeed him. And by your leave it is small matter. In a few years there will be but scant work for my calling in this land. England has seen her last warrior King--unless------"
"Unless what?" said De Lacy.
The old retainer glanced shrewdly at his young leader; then answered with apparent carelessness.
"Unless Richard of Gloucester should wear the crown."
De Lacy looked at him sharply.
"Small likelihood of that, my man," said he. "Edward left a goodly family."
"In truth yes, my lord," was the answer. "Yet there would be more joy among the soldiers in the North if Gloucester were our King."
Doubtless the speech merited rebuke,--it was over near to treason,--but the man was honest in his devotion to the Duke, and likely meant no particular disrespect to the young Edward. So De Lacy let it pa.s.s, but straightway changed the subject.
"Do you know Craigston Castle?" he asked.
"Most thoroughly."
"Where is it?"
"On the North bank of the Wharfe, a short three leagues beyond Kirkstall Abbey."
"And the Abbey?"
"Five leagues or more from Pontefract."