Beatrix of Clare | Page 8

Aymer the notion that he has nothing but
hard blows before him--although, indeed, he rode hither on scarce a
peaceful mission, since he bears from Stafford and the Nobility the
tender of the Protectorship and the insistence that I proceed to London
without delay."
As he spoke the face of the Duchess suddenly became grave, and
stepping swiftly to his side she put her hand upon his arm.
"You will not go, Richard?" she begged.
"Why, sweetheart, what ails you? Why should a journey to London and

a possible exchange of blows alarm you?"
"It is not the journey, dear," she answered. "Many a time have you
taken it; and, for the blows, did I not speed you to the Scottish war? Yet
I have a foreboding--nay, smile not, my lord!--that upon your course in
this matter hangs not only your own fate, but the fate of Plantagenet as
well. Accept it not," taking his hand and speaking with deep entreaty;
"the Protectorship can add nothing to Richard of Gloucester, and it may
work not only your doom but that of the great House of Anjou."
"Nay, Anne, you are ill, surely," said Richard, putting his arm around
her. "What has put such uncanny notions into your mind?"
"I do not know; yet I implore you to humor me in this. . . . You have
not already despatched an answer to Buckingham?" she suddenly
demanded.
"No--not yet," then turned sharply to De Lacy. "It seems, Sir Aymer,
that you are to be admitted to my confidence as well as to Stafford's. So
be it, for I trust you. Yet, believe me, it is well sometimes to forget."
De Lacy bowed low, saying simply, "I have forgotten."
"Forgive me, Richard," said the Duchess. "My heart so ruled my head
that I quite lost myself."
The Duke took her hand and pressed it affectionately. "Think no more
now of the matter; we will consider it to-morrow."
"And you will make no decision until then?"
"None, by St. Paul!" and striking the bell he ordered the page to
summon the Duchess' lady-in-waiting.
In a moment she appeared: a slender figure in dark blue velvet, with
ruddy tresses and deep grey eyes--the maid of Windsor Forest.
De Lacy caught his breath and stood staring, like one bereft of sense,
until the dropping of the arras hid her from his sight. Then he saw

Gloucester regarding him with a smile.
"You are not the first," he observed, "nor, I warrant, will you be the
last."
"Her name?" said the Knight so eagerly the Duke smiled again.
"She is Beatrix de Beaumont, in her own right Countess of Clare, and
save our own dear spouse no sweeter woman lives."
"In truth do I believe it; else has God sent a plague upon the Nobles of
England.'"
"If disappointed love and blasted hopes can be so reckoned," said
Richard with a shrug, "then does many a fair lord suffer from the
disease. See that you do not become affected also."
"Nay, my lord Duke," replied De Lacy; "I know better than to allow a
poor Knight's mind to dwell upon the charms of a great heiress--and
she the Countess of Clare."
"Pardieu!" said Gloucester; "be not so humble. Your birth is equal to
her own; it was only for your peace of mind I cautioned you."

III
THE VOICE ON THE RAMPARTS
On quitting the Duke, De Lacy dispatched a page for his squire and was
then conducted to his quarters on the floor above.
Tossing his gauntlets and bascinet upon the high bed that stood in the
corner near the door, he crossed to the small deep window and swung
back the sash. Below him lay the broad bailey, that at this hour was
alive with the servitors and retainers of the Duke. Before the dwellings
against the inner wall children were playing, and through the fading
light of the April afternoon rose a medley of sounds. From the direction

of the distant gateway sounded the ring of steel-shod hoofs, and
presently a body of horsemen cantered across the stone pavement and
drew rein before the keep. A gruff command followed, and just as the
rank was broken and the soldiery dispersed the sweet tones of the bell
of All Saints' Chapel came floating over the walls.
The Knight crossed himself instinctively, and then, leaning on the ledge,
his thoughts turned to his family's past and to why he, though of the
blood of one of the Conqueror's favorite Barons, was a stranger in
England.
The main branch of the House of Lacy, once so powerful in Britain,
had become extinct almost two centuries before; and although Sir
Aymer's ancestor had borne an honorable part in the wars of the Third
Edward yet, like Chandos, he was