"Why not all the way?" he persisted.
"Because the King would object"--it was the flash of tenderness now.
"Nay, he would be quite satisfied," De Lacy answered unthinkingly.
She stopped short.
"Indeed!" she exclaimed frigidly; "well, I would not;" and turning
abruptly, she entered a private passage and disappeared.
"Now the Devil take my foolish tongue," Aymer muttered, as the door
clanged behind her. . . Then the horn rang out again, and in vast
disgust and anger he hurried to his room and into riding dress.
But his haste made him awkward and he lost precious moments; and when
at length he rushed down the stairs and into the courtyard it was to
see Lord Darby swing the Countess of Clare into saddle and dash off
beside her.
De Lacy swore such a string of good round French oaths that the silent
Giles Dauvrey was so startled from his wonted equanimity that for the
moment he forgot to mount and follow, but stood watching his master in
serious wonder, as Selim raced toward the gate.
However, anger would not mend the matter and good humor might, so he
put on a smiling front. And when he presently neared the Countess and
Lord Darby he reined close beside her and cantered by with bonnet
doffed.
"I shall claim your promise presently," he said, his eyes seeking her
face--though he doubted much if she would give it to him.
But her humor had veered again, and she answered with such a bewitching
smile he was utterly bewildered, and for a time Selim went whither and
how he listed.
"May I ask what is the promise?" said Lord Darby.
The Countess raised her eyebrows in annoyed surprise.
"I promised to ride with him this morning."
"The promise is cancelled now."
"And why, my lord?"
"He was a sluggard at the start."
She bent forward and put aright a bit of Wilda's mane.
"Nay, sir, why should you wish him punished," said she lightly, "since
it gives you a little of my society?"
He leaned suddenly over and laid his hand upon her arm.
"Will you not give it to me until the end of life?" he asked earnestly.
She gazed at him a moment in startled surprise--then laughed merrily.
"You said that with delightful promptness, my lord," she exclaimed.
"Practice makes one proficient, surely."
A cold light settled in Darby's eyes, and he straightened in the saddle
and faced to the front.
"If a man be a gallant once, need that condemn his words to disbelief
forever?" he asked. . . "May not even the most confirmed trifler have,
some time, an honest passion?"
"Doubtless, yes," she said, with a shrug of the shapely shoulders. . .
"Only . . ."
"Only . . . only what?"
"Only that it is very rare and its proof requires strong demonstration
and long service."
"And I am ready to do both," he said eagerly.
"Then, one day, my lord, you will bring great joy to some loving
heart," she replied, looking him calmly in the eyes.
An awkward silence followed--that was not broken until Sir Aymer came
galloping back. With a familiarly courteous salute he swung Selim
around; and Lord Darby, seizing the opportunity, bowed low to the
Countess, and with a menacing glare at De Lacy--who met it with a
careless smile--he spurred away.
The Countess had observed Darby's look and she followed him with a
frown . . . and De Lacy wisely kept silent.
"I am glad you came," she said presently--then pulled Wilda to a walk.
"Let us loiter; since we are late it is small matter when we reach the
rendezvous."
"Why reach it at all?" he asked.
She hesitated.
"Why not ride?" he persisted.
She looked at the horses thoughtfully . . . then shook her head. "I
would far rather ride," she said, "but the Queen expects me; duty
calls."
"St. Denis! I had quite forgot--duty calls me, too."
But they did not take the horses from their walk, and it was far after
time when they reached the wide open space in the forest, where the
party had assembled.
Upon one side were pitched three large silk pavilions; the center one
of red and blue--the colors of the Kingdom; the others, gold and
blue--the colors of the House of York. In front and for a wide space
around on the soft turf were spread the thick carpets of the far East.
Before the tents paced two archers of the guard; and stationed at close
intervals around the clearing were a goodly force of those veterans,
all of whom had been among the personal retainers of Richard when he
was Duke of Gloucester.
Not over two score of the Court had been bidden, and these were
clustered before the royal pavilion when De Lacy and the Countess rode
up. A volley of chaff greeted them as he lifted her from the saddle.
One suggested that they had lost their way . . . another that it was a
shame to bring in horses so utterly exhausted . . . another that they
must have stumbled on the Court by accident . . . another that there
was powder on De Lacy's sleeve. . . And so it went; until Beatrix, in
sheer desperation, gathered her skirts about her and fled into the tent.
The Queen was alone, resting on a couch in the inner apartment; but she
had heard the noisy greetings outside and had wondered who were the
victims. Beatrix's entrance and snapping eyes told her; and she met
her with a smile of sympathy.
"Do not mind them, dear," she said. "They mean nothing and you have
beard a dozen others treated so, under similar circumstances."
"I know . . . I know . . . Your Majesty," she replied, with nervous
energy . . . "but it was most annoying . . . and with Sir Aymer."
"I doubt not he would give much to know that fact," said the Queen with
an amused smile.
"It is because I fear he does know it that I am so vexed. By my faith,
I have made a merry mess of it all through this morning."
"The merriest mess and the best you could make, my dear girl,"
motioning her to a place on the couch, "would be to marry Sir Aymer de
Lacy."
The Countess gave a look of startled surprise--then dropped her head.
"And methinks," Anne went on, watching her closely, "that you are of
the same mind. Take your Queen's word, aye, and your King's as
well--for Richard has spoken of it--and quarter the red chevrons with
the silver stag."
The Countess was slowly tracing figures on the carpet with her riding
whip; and her mistress pressed on:
"You surely cannot hesitate from doubt of his affection. In a thousand
ways he shows you that. And certes you have had enough of suitors to
be able to weigh very scrupulously the faith they bring. He loves you
honestly. He is your equal in birth; and though his English title be
inferior to yours, he is a Count in France. Why not, my dear Beatrix,
be . . . kind to him?" and she put her arm about her.
"You are an earnest pleader, my dear mistress," said the Countess,
still busy with the carpet . . . "and, may be, not without cause. . .
Sir Aymer is all you aver . . . a braver Knight or truer heart I never
knew. . . And it would be false modesty to pretend I think he does not
love me. I did doubt it until lately, but the doubt has gone now.
Were I as sure of myself as I am of him, I would hold him off not a
moment longer--he might speak when he chose . . . and the quickest
would not be too quick for me . . . Indeed, sometimes I long for him
with eager heart; yet, when he comes, I grow weak in resolution and
from very timidity give him only chilly words."
The Queen drew her a little closer. "I understand, dear," she said.
"It was so with me when my own dear lord came wooing."
"And how did you . . . change?" Beatrix asked, and blushed winsomely.
And Anne blushed, too. "Nay, I do not know. . . One day my heart met
his words and all was peace and happiness."
The Countess sighed. "I wish it might be so with me," she said, and
tears were in her voice; "for lately I have grown very lonely--and
after you, this man comforts me the most."
"My sweet Beatrix," said the Queen, "Sir Aymer has you safe enough,"
and she put both arms around her and kissed her cheek.
And so, a moment later, the King found them; and with a smile, half
sympathy and half amusement, he said:
"Methinks, my dear, you and the Countess are wasting sadly your favors
on each other. And I am acquainted with many a gallant Knight--but one
especial--who would give his quarterings to be prisoner to her as you
are at this moment."
Beatrix's cheeks and brow went rosy and in sharp embarrassment she hid
her face upon the Queen's shoulder.
"Pardieu, my dear," said Richard, "I did not mean to distress you--yet
since I have said it, let me say a little more. As the Queen likes
you, so like I De Lacy, and I have given him these words: 'I make not
the match, but if you two wish it, none shall make it otherwise.' And
I give them now to you also. Nay, thank me not," as she arose and
curtsied low; "and while the match would please us well, yet it is our
pleasure to follow your desires. All we need is to know them, and that
in your own good time." And Richard took her hand and kissed it; then
flung aside the curtains and went out as abruptly as he had entered.