Beatrix of Clare | Page 5

are
bothersome."
She looked at him with quick decision.
"I will manage that," she said; "your squire shall bring both to you
here."
De Lacy's face lighted with sudden pleasure, and he put out his hand
toward hers--then drew it sharply back and bowed.
"Still bowing?" she said naively.
"I have no words to speak my gratitude," he said.
"And I no ears that wish to hear them, if you had," she laughed. "This
morning you have had much trouble--I much pleasure--the scales are
balanced--the accounts canceled. We will forget it all. Never will I
mention it to you--nor you to me--nor either to another. When we meet
again it will be as though to-day had never been. . . Nay, sir, it must be
so. You have been unfortunate, I unconventional--it is best for both we

start afresh."
"But am I not even to know your name?" he protested.
She shook her head. "Not even that, now, and I ask your word not to
seek to know it--until we meet again."
"You have it," said he, "until we meet again--to-morrow."
She smiled vaguely. "It will be a far to-morrow . . . good-bye, my lord,"
and rode away--then turned. "Wait for your squire," she called.
"And for to-morrow," he cried.
But she made no answer, and with a wave of her hand was gone, the
dog leaping in front of her and baying loud with joy.

II
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER
But the morrow brought no maid, nor a fortnight of morrows--she had
vanished; and seek as he might at Windsor or through the Tower he
could not find her. Had he been privileged to inquire the quest would
have been ended by a word--but she herself had closed his lips to
questions.
Then the mighty Edward died, and all was confusion in the Court; and
what with the funeral, the goings and the comings, the plottings and the
intrigues, De Lacy was in a maze. The boy King was at Ludlow with
Rivers, and it was Nobility against Queen and Woodville until he came
for his crowning. And in the turmoil De Lacy was forced to cease, for
the nonce, the pursuit of ruddy tresses and grey eyes, and choose where
he would stand. And presently that choice sent him riding into the
North--bearing a message to the man in distant Pontefract, upon whom,
at that moment, all England was waiting and who, as yet, had made no
move, Richard of Gloucester.

The day was far spent, and before a fireplace in his private apartments
Richard sat alone, in heavy meditation. The pale, clean-shaven,
youthful face, with its beautiful mouth and straight Norman nose, and
the short, slender figure in its mantle and doublet of black velvet furred
with ermine, rich under tunic of white satin, tight-fitting hose of silk,
and dark brown hair hanging bushy to the shoulders, would have been
almost effeminate but for the massively majestic forehead and the
fierce black eyes--brilliant, compelling, stern, proud--that flashed forth
the mighty soul within.
Although he had just passed his thirtieth year, yet his fame was as wide
as the domain of chivalry, and his name a thing to conjure with in
England. Born in an age when almost as children men of rank and
station were called upon to take their sires' place, Richard had been
famed for his wisdom and statecraft before the years when the period of
youth is now presumed to begin. At the age of eighteen he had led the
flower of the Yorkist army at the great battles of Barnet and
Tewkesbury, and not the dauntless Edward himself, then in the heyday
of his prowess, was more to be feared than the slight boy who swept
with inconceivable fury through the Lancastrian line, carrying death on
his lance-point and making the Boar of Gloucester forever famous in
English heraldry. And since then his hauberk had scarce been off his
back, and while his royal brother was dallying in a life of indulgence
amid the dissipations of his Court, the brave and resolute Richard was
leading his armies, administering his governments, and preserving
order on the Marches of the Border.
Presently there was a sharp knock on the door and a page entered.
"Well?" demanded the Duke abruptly.
"May it please you, my lord," said the boy; "a messenger of importance
who desires immediate audience."
Richard frowned slightly.
"Whose badge does he wear?" he asked.

"No one's, my lord, but the fashion of his armor savors of the Court. He
bade me announce him as Sir Aymer de Lacy."
"The name, boy, is better recommendation than any fashion. Admit
him."
De Lacy crossed to the center of the apartment with easy grace, and
after a deep obeisance stood erect and silent facing the Duke, who eyed