Then the talk led to the horses of France and Spain, and thence to the
life there in general, for Sir James had never crossed the Channel, and
he plied his companion with questions. And so they jogged along in
pleasant converse, and De Lacy saw that the reserved and quiet Dacre
was in fact as sincere and good-hearted as the generously impulsive De
Wilton. And he warmed to them both; for he had anticipated cold looks,
hatred, and jealousy, such as under like conditions he would have met
with on the Continent.
And as they rode there came a faint hail from the front--and thrice
repeated. The track at that point led through a wood and was straight
away for half a mile, then it swung to the left. Just near the turn
were two horsemen; and the rearmost, when he saw his cry had been
heard, waved his hat and gesticulated violently toward the other, who
was several lengths in front. Both were coming at top speed.
Sir James Dacre puckered his eyes and peered ahead.
"My sight is rather poor," he said, "but from yonder fellow's motions,
I take it he wants us to stop the other--an escape doubtless."
Just then the one in the lead shot through a patch of sunlight and both
Knights cried out.
"A woman!" said De Lacy.
"The Countess!" exclaimed Dacre. "What may it mean?"
"She went riding with Lord Darby shortly after mid-day," said Aymer.
"And that is Darby," added Dacre, as the sun hit the second horseman.
"Pardieu! I do not understand--it cannot be she is fleeing from him."
They drew rein, and watched the approaching pair.
"Well, if she is, she is succeeding," Aymer observed. "She is gaining
on him at every jump. St. Denis! how that horse of hers can run!"
"It is Wilda, the bay mare I spoke of. But see, Darby still waves.
What in Heaven's name ails the man? Can it be the mare has bolted?"
De Lacy shook his head. "The Countess is making no effort to control
her; the reins are hanging loose."
Then they heard the first faint beat of the hoofs, growing louder and
louder, and presently with it Darby's cry:
"Stop her! Stop her!"
"Maybe, my lord," said De Lacy, leaning forward, his eyes intent upon
the Countess; "if the lady wish it she will signal."
Two hundred yards away now came Wilda running at terrific speed, but
straight and true. Suddenly De Lacy swung Selim around.
"It is a runaway," he called to Dacre, "the reins are useless." And
even as he said it the Countess told him the same by a motion of her
hand.
A moment more and she swept between them; but beside her went the
black, leap for leap with the bay. Then Aymer saw the trouble--the bit
had broken in the bar, tearing the mouth badly, and from each
cheek-strap dangled a useless half, which striking the frightened mare
on the muzzle kept driving her to top speed.
The Countess gave De Lacy a quick smile.
"I am trying to enjoy it," she said, "but I think I am dreadfully
frightened."
Aymer glanced at the road--it was straight and level for another four
hundred yards, then it disappeared, and he remembered it pitched
sharply forward in a rough and twisting descent. Whatever he did must
be done quickly--no horse ever foaled could carry its rider down that
declivity at such a speed.
"Death waits yonder," he said, pointing to the brow of the hill. "I
must lift you to my saddle. Will you risk it?"
She hesitated; then suddenly loosed her foot from the stirrup.
"I am ready," she said--and smiled again.
De Lacy dropped his reins.
"Closer, Selim, closer," he commanded.
The black; drew over until his master's boot was pressing the
Countess's saddle girth.
"When I give the word," said De Lacy, "free yourself from the pommel
and catch me around the neck."
The Countess nodded. "I understand," she said, and gave a quick look
forward. The hill was getting very near.
He reached over and wound his right arm about her slender waist.
"Now!" he said sharply.
For a second the Countess hung in the air between the plunging horses;
then the bay shot ahead alone--and she rested safely across De Lacy's
saddle, his arms about her and hers about his neck.
Of his own accord the black had instantly slackened speed, and now at
the word he stopped, and the Countess dropped lightly to the ground.
"How can I ever thank you?" she said, giving Sir Aymer her hand.
"By not trying to," he answered, dismounting and kissing her fingers
almost reverently. "Fortune has already blessed me over much."
She turned to Selim, who was standing quietly beside his master.
"I may at least thank you, you beauty," she said, and kissed his soft
black muzzle.
De Lacy smiled. "Never before have I wished I were a horse," he said.
A bit of color flashed into her cheeks and she busied herself in
twisting into place a roll of ruddy hair that had been shaken from its
fastenings. It took an unusual time, it seemed, and just as she
finished Sir James Dacre rode up.
"I claim a share in the rescue," he said gayly, and gave the Countess
her hat, that had been lost when she changed horses. Then silently he
held out his hand to De Lacy; and afterward he petted the black and
whispered in his ear. And Selim answered by a playful nip, then rubbed
his nose against his master's palm.
At that moment Lord Darby dashed up, his horse blown, its sides bloody
with rowelling and flecked with foam.
"Thank God, Countess," he exclaimed, "you are not injured."
"Not so much as scratched, thanks to Sir Aymer de Lacy."
"Aye, Sir Aymer, it was cleverly done," said Darby; "a neater rescue
methinks I never saw."
De Lacy bowed. "Whatever credit there may be, belongs solely to
Selim," he said. "But for his speed and intelligence I had never
reached the Countess." Then he led the black forward. "And he asks
the honor of carrying her back to Pontefract."
"Not so," Darby interrupted; "that is my privilege," and he swung his
own horse around.
The Countess was struggling with her hat.
"But Wilda," she protested.
"Is at the castle now, if she made the hill in safety," said Dacre,
watching the scene with the glint of a smile.
The Countess still hesitated--and Darby stepped confidently forward and
dropped his hand to put her up.
"Come, my lady," he said.
De Lacy made no move, nor spoke, but his eyes never left the Countess's
face. And she, if she felt any irritation at the awkward situation so
foolishly forced by Darby, concealed it completely and punished him
with a smiling face.
"You may put me on Selim, Lord Darby," she said. "He has carried me
part way home, and since he wishes it he shall carry me all the way."
Darby's dark face flushed and for a moment he drew back his hand in
refusal--then quickly offered it again. But the delay lost him the
favor; for De Lacy, seeing the opportunity, instantly presented his own
palm, and the Countess accepted it, and he swung her to his saddle.
Then she looked at Darby. "If you are very good," she said, with a
little laugh, "you may put me down at the castle."
And Darby laughed, too. "But you must give me time," he replied. "I
am not so nimble as Selim's master."
And so they made their way back to Pontefract, De Lacy walking beside
the Countess, and Lord Darby and Sir James Dacre following on horseback
just behind. Wilda had evidently got down the hill unhurt; in the soft
earth at its foot the deep marks of her running hoofs were very
evident; and a little way from the castle they came upon her, calmly
browsing beside the track. She had lost her bridle and her fright was
quite gone--for she answered to the Countess's call, and permitted De
Lacy to put a strap around her neck and make her captive.
As they crossed the drawbridge the Duke of Gloucester was standing near
the gate tower and he called Lord Darby to him--and Dacre offering to
take Wilda to the stables, Sir Aymer and the Countess were left to go
on alone to the keep. As they drew up at the entrance, and the
Countess shifted position in the saddle, she dropped her kerchief; De
Lacy secured it and put it in his doublet, then reached up to lift her
down.
She shook her head.
"The kerchief first," she said, with calm finality.
There was no mistaking the tone, and without a word he gave it to her.
She slowly tucked it in her bodice, looking the while toward the gate.
"I thought Lord Darby was to put me down," she said, and giving De Lacy
a dazzling smile--"but if you care to act as his substitute, I suppose
you may. . . Good-bye, Selim." She gathered up her skirt and moved
toward the steps. On the bottom one she turned. "Do you not think,
Sir Aymer, it is about time for you to be presented?" she asked--then
ran quickly up the stairs and through the doorway.
V