"Peste! my son, I am very stupid. I quite forgot that there are others
than Darby who can see the attractions of the Lady of Clare. And of a
surety will she be grateful to him who rescues her."
De Lacy made a gesture of dissent.
"It is scarce honorable, this motive you ascribe to me, my lord Abbot,"
he said curtly.
"Honor and expediency go not always hand in hand," the priest answered
with a half suppressed sneer; then without giving time for retort, he
changed his tones to grave courtesy. "But I am remiss, my lord, I have
not yet done you the civility of inquiring how we of Kirkstall can
serve you."
"Not at all, I fear; at least upon the matter that brought us here; it
is evident you can give us no information as to the Countess."
"Alas! no, my son. Would to Heaven I could! . . . Have you then lost
all trace of her?"
"Aye, a league south of the Aire."
"I will summon the brother who was on duty last night at the outer
lodge; maybe he noted something that will aid you."
But Father Ambrose had not seen a single way-farer; though as he had
dozed several times during the night he thought a few persons might
have passed quietly, and not aroused him.
"You doze!" exclaimed the Abbot in sarcastic displeasure and eyeing the
good monk's ample girth and heavy, jowly face. "Your doze would need a
pole-axe to awaken. An army could have marched by with trumpets
sounding and you never lift an eye. Other duty shall be given you and
a more slender brother assigned to the night watch. You may go. . .
By my faith, sirs, I wonder if you soldiers have as much trouble with
your subordinates as we churchmen have with ours."
"We, at least, can deal out heavier discipline when occasion demand
it," De Wilton answered.
"Aye! you men of war tread not after the Merciful One," the Abbot said.
De Lacy laughed shortly. "Mercy is but relative, and methinks, you
ecclesiastics are no slower in your judgments than are we. The
punishments differ only in kind."
"But our discipline is a step toward Holiness and Christ, my son."
"And ours a leap toward Sin and Satan, think you? Nathless, am I quite
as willing to take my chance of Heaven in a coat of mail as in the
priestly gown."
The Abbot's eyes snapped with irritation, but his speech was easy and
pacific. "You are young, my son; perchance, when you have more grey
hairs there will be a change in your views. Meanwhile you and Sir
Ralph need refreshment, to say naught of the good squires and the
horses."
De Lacy hesitated. They had already tarried overlong, under the
circumstances, but perchance Raynor Royk had not yet completed his
scrutiny of the Abbey. There was need that this should be thoroughly
done, yet so carefully, withal, as not to arouse suspicion. If Aldam
were to imagine he and his were mistrusted it would make him an enemy
if innocent, and a doubly armed foe if guilty. The doubt, however, was
solved by the entrance of a strange horseman into the courtyard. A
faint frown crossed the Abbot's face as he saw him, and De Lacy
instantly decided to remain. Evidently the newcomer was either
unwelcome or inopportune; and if it were because of their presence,
then undoubtedly here was their place.
"We will accept with thanks, your reverence," he said.
Aldam smiled suavely; then went forward to greet the new guest.
"It is Sir Christopher Urswicke--the priest Knight--the confessor of
Margaret of Richmond," De Wilton whispered.
"A bit far out of his demesne, methinks," De Lacy muttered.
"Aye! too far to be passed over without report to His Majesty. Where
Urswicke goes his mistress sends him--and lately she has but one object
in life: to make her son the King of England."
"And like enough will succeed only in making him shorter by a head," De
Lacy responded.
Meanwhile Urswicke had greeted the Abbot and dismounting had turned his
horse over to his two attendants--who were neither squires nor yet
ordinary servants, and who doubtless could either fight or pray as
occasion demanded. Their dress partook of the style of their master,
who wore the ordinary riding costume of a Knight, even to the golden
spurs; the only marks of his clerical calling being his short cropped
hair and the string of beads about his neck with the pendant crucifix.
His frame was angular and above the ordinary height. His face was long
and narrow, with a hawk-like nose, pointed chin, thin, straight lips,
prominent cheek bones and deep-set grey eyes that glittered and chilled
like those of a snake. He swept the others from helm to spur with a
single glance, and Aymer saw his eyes fasten for an instant on the Ring
of the Boar.
But if Urswicke's countenance were forbidding, not so was his voice.
Its clear, sweet tones were in such sharp contrast to the fell face
that De Lacy was startled into showing his surprise. And the priest
noticed it, as he had many times before in others, and smiled in
indifferent contempt.
During the refection, that was served immediately, Urswicke was most
amiable and paid particular attention to De Lacy and De Wilton. By
most astute and careful conversation he sought to draw from them
information as to the King's programme during the Autumn; how long he
would remain at Pontefract, and whither his course when he left there.
Yet with all the art of an adept, he risked no direct question and
displayed no particular interest in these matters, when by his very
manoeuvring they were touched upon. But De Wilton had been bred in the
atmosphere of Gloucester's household and De Lacy had been trained by
years of service amid Italian and French plotters; and they both
quickly discerned that the Abbot and the Priest-Knight were working
together, and they only smiled and played them off against each other;
and at the end of the meal, what the two had learned of Richard's
intentions was likely to be of scant profit to either Henry Tudor or
his scheming mother.
"What a precious pair of priestly scoundrels!" De Wilton exclaimed,
when he and De Lacy had mounted and were trotting toward the gate.
"They will be the first knocked on the head if Raynor Royk has located
the Countess," said Aymer.
"By the saintly Benedict! why not do the knocking now and then hear
Raynor's report?" De Wilton laughed.
"It would give me great pleasure and doubtless be altogether proper as
a matter of abstract justice; but I fear rather impolitic. Best wait
for Royk."
But Royk's search was barren; and so the Abbot Aldam and Sir
Christopher Urswicke were left to their plotting, while Sir Aymer De
Lacy and Sir Ralph De Wilton rode Westward, seeking vainly for a clue
to the lost Lady of Clare.