Beatrix of Clare Part 21

"Believe me, my lady, I have no quarrel with your De Lacy," he said; "I, too, like him well. But I envy him his champion. Marry, how you rapped me with voice and eye. I wonder, would you do the same for me?"

"Yes, for you . . . and the Lady Mary."

"And why the Lady Mary?" he asked, after a pause.

"If you do not know, then there is no 'why,'" said she, facing about and looking up stream. "However, she is coming and, perchance, can answer for herself. Shall I ask her . . . or will you?"

The touching of the boat just inside the St. Thomas Gate saved him an answer. Giving the Countess his hand he aided her to alight, and almost immediately De Lacy's barge ran in; and, he and Lady Mary disembarking, the four sauntered across the vast courtyard toward the royal lodge.

As they turned into one of the shaded walks the Earl of Ware, who chanced to be a pace in advance, suddenly halted and drew aside, his bonnet doffed, his att.i.tude deeply respectful.

"The King!" exclaimed De Lacy, and they all fell back.

A slender, fair-haired boy was coming slowly down the path, one hand on the neck of a huge mastiff, whose great head was almost on a level with his shoulder. His dress was rich, but very simple--black velvet and silk from head to foot, save the jeweled dagger at his hip and the blue ribbon of the Garter about his knee. His bearing was wondrous easy, and there was a calm dignity about him most unusual in one so young.

It may have been the innate consciousness of his exalted rank that raised the thirteen-year-old boy to the man, and made his majesty sit so naturally upon him; or it may have been that the resemblance he bore to his imperious father carried with it also that father's haughty spirit; but, whatever it was, there could be no mistaking that Edward the Fifth was a true heir of the Plantagenets, the proudest and bravest family that ever sat a throne.

He was unattended, save by the dog, and as he pa.s.sed he smiled a courteous greeting.

"G.o.d save Your Majesty!" said the two Knights, bowing with bent knee, while the Countess and Lady Mary curtsied low.

He turned slightly and smiled at them again, then proceeded on his way, as unruffled as a man of thrice his age.

"A brave youth," said Sir Aymer de Lacy, gazing after him.

"Aye," the Earl answered, "brave in person and in promise--yet p.r.o.ne to melancholy, it is said; a queer trait in a child."

"Inherited?" De Lacy asked.

Ware shrugged his shoulders. "Doubtless--almost anything could come through Jacquetta of Luxembourg."

Meanwhile the Countess and Lady Mary had gone on together, leaving their escorts to follow, and presently they turned toward the wharf.

"What say you," the Earl asked as they neared the gate, "what say you to--an exchange of companions?"

"I am willing," De Lacy answered instantly, thinking of Lady Mary's words, "and so is------" then he stopped; that was not for him to tell Ware, and doubtless she had been only jesting. "Suppose you suggest it to the Lady Mary," he ended.

The Earl gave him an amused smile. "Suppose you suggest it to the Countess."

Then both laughed.

Ware rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "We might suggest it to them both together," he said.

"How, for instance?"

"Why . . . just intimate casually that . . . that . . . that . . . we would . . . you know."

"No," said Aymer, "I do not."

Ware pondered a s.p.a.ce. "We might put them in the wrong boats--by accident, of course."

"And have them get out the instant we get in."

"Then it pa.s.ses me," said the Earl. "I have supplied the idea; it is for you to execute it."

De Lacy shook his head. "It is too deep for me; had I a week I might contrive a plan."

"I presume we will go back as we came," the other commented. "Marry, what a brave pair we are!"

As they reached the landing, their barges, that lay a little way down stream, swung around and came quickly up to the gate. The Earl's entered first, and as he was about to proffer his hand to the Countess to aid her to embark, the Lady Mary stepped quickly into the boat, and giving him a smile of bewitching invitation sank languidly among the cushions. For an instant he was taken aback; but, with a sharp glance at De Lacy, he sprang aboard, and the oars caught the water.

The Countess watched them as they sped through the gate and away, then turned to De Lacy with a roguish look and eyes half veiled.

"It seems, Sir Aymer, it is for you to take me back to the Hall," she said.

XI

ON CHAPEL GREEN

On the following morning Sir Aymer de Lacy again sought the Tower; but this time he went alone. The hour was early, yet the place was full of life; there was to be a state council at nine, and the n.o.bility were a.s.sembling to greet the Lord Protector when he should arrive. For although the young King occupied the royal apartments and was supposed to hold the Court therein, yet, in fact, the real Court was at Crosby Hall, where the Duke resided and whither all those that sought favor or position were, for the nonce, obliged to bend their steps.

Indeed, at this time, Richard was, in all but name, the King of England; and on this very day, ere the hour of noon had pa.s.sed, was the name also to turn toward him, and through the first blood shed by his new ambition was he to progress to the foot of the throne, the steps of which were to prove so easy to his feet.

Just in front of the Wakefield Tower De Lacy came upon Sir Robert Brackenbury, now Constable of the Fortress, and paused for a word with him. Then sauntering slowly toward the Chapel, he took possession of a bench from which he could observe those who crossed the courtyard between the St. Thomas Gate and the White Tower. A moment later, Sir Ralph de Wilton came swinging along the walk and De Lacy hailed him.

"Tarry with me till the Council has gathered," he said. "Here come their reverences of York and Ely."

Scarcely had the churchmen entered the White Tower, when along the same path came two others, bound also for the council chamber.

The one on the right, the Garter about his knee, with the keen, grey eyes, sharp, clear, Norman features, and well-knit, active frame, was William, Lord Hastings; gallant knight, brave warrior, wise counsellor and chosen friend of the mighty Edward. His long gown and doublet were of brilliant green velvet, with silk trunks and hose to match; his bushy brown hair was perfumed and dressed with exquisite care; from his bonnet of black velvet trailed a long white ostrich plume pinned by three huge rubies; at the richly chased gold belt dangled a dagger, the scabbard and hilt glistening with jewels, and his fingers flashed with many rings. It was the typical costume of a courtier of the Plantagenets--fops in dress and devils in battle.

His companion was utterly dissimilar. His garments were of sober black, without ornament or decoration, and no ring shone on his fingers. His sandy hair was cut rather shorter than was wont, and there was no mark of helmet wear along the brow or temples. His frame was neither active nor powerful, and his walk was sedate, almost to preciseness. His countenance was peculiar, for in it there was both cunning and frankness: cunning in the eyes, frankness in the mouth and chin; a face, withal, that would bear constant watching, and that contained scarce a trace of virility--only a keen selfishness and a crafty faithlessness. And of a verity, if ever a human visage revealed truly the soul within, this one did; for a more scheming sycophant, vacillating knave and despicable traitor than Thomas, Lord Stanley, England had not seen since the villain John died at Newark.

"A powerful pair," said De Wilton, "yet a strange companionship--one rather of accident than design, I fancy. There is little in either to attract the other, nor is it any secret that the Lord Chamberlain does not love the fickle Stanley."

"No more does Stanley love him, nor any living creature, for the matter of that," said Sir Aymer. "It pa.s.ses me why the Lord Protector trusts him."

"Pardieu!" exclaimed De Wilton, "the Duke may use him; he will never trust him. He knows the truckler of old--the first to greet Warwick when he came to lead Henry from the Tower; the loudest for Edward when Barnet's day was done."

"Well, mark me," said De Lacy, with lowered voice, "yonder false lord will be a troublesome counsellor, even if he be not a faithless baron.

I would have none of him."

"_Bon jour, mes amis_!" Hastings called out in hearty greeting. "Has the Protector arrived?"

"No, my lord," returned De Wilton, as he and De Lacy arose; "he was engaged, and may be a trifle late for the council."