"This foolish dissimulation we all play at; . . . this assumed
indifference which deceives no one. Here are we, barging together on
the Thames, when you would rather have the Countess . . . and I would
rather have Ware."
"But would they rather have us?"
"I am quite sure she would, and" . . . holding up a hand and slowly
flashing the rings . . . "I think he would, too."
"If you happen to know which way they went," De Lacy laughed, "we might
follow and suggest an exchange."
She sat up smartly. "Come," said she, "come; if you will venture it
with the Countess, I will with Ware."
He smiled. "I thought you gave me a year wherein to prove my
stupidity."
"But would it be stupidity--might it not be rare brilliancy--a master
stroke?" She flashed the rings again. "Lord Darby would risk it were
he in like case."
"Nay, Darby is no fool."
"True enough--yet, neither is he afraid to brave the hazard; he is a
hard fighter, in love as well as war."
"I find no fault with him for that," De Lacy answered, "so long as he
fight fair."
She gave him a quick glance of interrogation.
"Would you trust him to fight fair?" she asked.
"I usually trust every man of noble birth until experience prove him
undeserving."
"And you have had no experience with Darby?"
"No--not yet."
A sly smile crossed her lips and she was about to comment further, when
Lord Ware's barge suddenly swung out from behind a large vessel and met
them.
"We are going to the Tower," the Countess called. "Will you not meet
us there?"
The rowers backed water instantly, and the two boats drifted slowly
past each other.
"We will join you very shortly," Lady Mary answered--then smiled at De
Lacy.
The Earl of Ware looked curiously at the Countess.
"Now why this sudden notion for the Tower?" he asked, when the barges
had drawn apart. "But a moment since and you declined to stop there
and preferred to stay afloat."
"A moment since is far aback with a woman," the Countess laughed--"nor
had I then seen the Lady Mary."
"Nor the Knight with her," said Ware sententiously.
She made no answer, save to look him in the face with calm composure.
"Who is this De Lacy," the Earl asked with, a supercilious shrug; "one
of the new nobility?"
A faint smile came into her eyes.
"New? May be, my lord--the term is but relative--yet _I_ would scarce
call him so: his ancestor came with Norman William and built
Pontefract."
"So . . . one of old Ilbert's stock. Well, even a Ware may not cavil
at that blood . . . though it is passing strange I never heard of him
until within the week."
"Strange for him or for you?" she asked.
"For me, of course--seeing that he has been so much at Court." The
tone was bantering, yet the sarcasm was deliberately veiled.
She turned upon him rather sharply.
"My lord," said she, "if you would criticise Sir Aymer de Lacy, do not,
I pray, make me your confidant. He is my good friend."
"And you like him . . . well?" he questioned.
"Aye, that I do," she retorted instantly. "It is a pity his sort are
growing scarce."
"His sort!" the Earl inflected. "In family, mean you, or in looks?"
"In manners, mainly."
The Earl shrugged his shoulders. "French training," he drawled.
"There never was one came from that Court but caught you all with his
bow and talk."
"Perchance, my lord, it has never occurred to you that, save in him she
wed, a woman cares only for a man's manners and his speech."
"And what does she care for in him she weds?"
"Ask her whom you wed."
"And what, think you, will the bride of this De Lacy find in him
beneath his bow and speech?"
She turned and looked him in the eyes.
"An English gentleman--a trusty Knight," she answered.
He laughed--and now his air was light and merry.
"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 attitude 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 passed he smiled a
courteous greeting.
"God 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 prone 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 space. "We might put them in the wrong boats--by
accident, of course."
"And have them get out the instant we get in."
"Then it passes 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.