It was September, and Their Majesties had come to Pontefract with the
immediate Household for a brief rest after the labors and fatigues of
the summer, and which had culminated in the festivities and ceremonies
at York. In the room where Sir Aymer de Lacy first saw Richard of
Gloucester, the King and Queen were alone together. Evening had
fallen, but the brilliancy of a full moon in a cloudless sky had
prolonged the day. Through the open windows came the freshness of the
woods and hills, and the candles flickered and flamed in coquetry with
the gentle breeze.
"Come, Anne, let us walk. It is too fine an evening to spend indoors,"
Richard said, laying aside the papers he had been examining.
She answered with the sweet smile that was always on her lips for him,
and arm in arm they passed out upon the ramparts.
The main body of the soldiery were quartered in the town below the
hill, and the castle was very quiet, save only for the tramp of the
guards on the wall, the rattle of their weapons, and an occasional
burst of laughter from the great hall. The peace and calm appealed to
the Queen, and she sighed.
"How so, sweetheart," said Richard; "what troubles you?"
"I was thinking how much preferable Pontefract is to London."