"Diable!" De Lacy exclaimed. "Why did you not try to hear the rest of
their talk?"
The man smiled shrewdly. "I did my best, sir. There is a spot where
the wall in your lordship's room is very thin. I listened there, and
though I caught a sentence only now and then, yet I made it that the
Earl of Richmond is to land in England with an army on the eighteenth
of this present month. The Knight--De Shaunde, methinks they called
him--comes from the Duke of Buckingham, and the two monks from Lord
Stanley. Stanley declined to fall in with the proposals of Buckingham
and sent him warning to withdraw from the conspiracy at once, for he
was about to advise the King of Richmond's coming. So much I gathered,
sir, from their conversation, though I cannot repeat their words."
"How long have they been gone?"
"Some little time, sir. They rode Southward together."
De Lacy strode to the front door and flung it open. A gust of wind and
rain drove through, extinguishing the torch and blowing the smouldering
fire on the hearth into a flame. Without was a sea of darkness which
made pursuit impossible and hopeless. Clearly there was naught to be
done till daybreak, and with an imprecation he turned away.
Verily, this night was full of surprises. First, Flat-Nose . . . then,
Darby . . . and now a rebellion, with Buckingham traitor and Stanley
true. Matters were getting complicated and required some
consideration. Of course, his first duty was to the King; to warn him
of this invasion by Richmond and the insurrection in the South. It
superseded even his obligation to the Countess; and with the dogged
faith and discipline of a soldier he accepted the situation and
prepared to act accordingly.
Haste was essential; and as two could make more speed to Lincoln than a
dozen, the question was whether to go himself or to dispatch trusty
messengers. Each course had its advantages and defects. If he went,
he would be obliged to leave Lord Darby behind and trust Dauvrey to
bring him to the King. Not to go, would be to seem lax in Richard's
service, and possibly to miss the opening moves in the campaign, which
must necessarily begin instantly and hurry Southward, and in which he
would perforce be obliged to take part the moment he did arrive. For
well he foresaw that Richard would have no time to devote to the
Countess' affairs at such a crisis. The business of the individual,
however much a favorite, must needs give place to a struggle for a
Kingdom and a Crown.
Yet he was loath to let Darby out of his own grasp and, for an instant,
he was minded to stake all on one throw. He was firmly persuaded that
Darby could disclose the Countess' whereabouts, if she were still of
this world. Why not put him to the torture and wring the truth from
him? Success would excuse, nay, approve such measures. . . But to
fail! Mon Dieu! No; decidedly, no! It would be folly pure and
childish. Only the long strain and his stress of feeling would have
suggested it. Then he thought of sending Darby to Pontefract and, on
the authority of the King's ring, place him in confinement there until
a more favorable period. But this, too, was dismissed, and he came
back to the original problem: whether himself to hurry to Lincoln or to
send a message.
There was but one wise choice, however, as he had appreciated all
along, though he had fought against it; and now he took it but with
sore reluctance. Wrapping his cloak about him, he motioned for the
landlord to unbar the door and plunged out into the storm. In the face
of the gale and pounding rain, through mud and water, he presently
regained the house where he had left his men.
Drawing the squire aside he related the host's story and his own
purpose of hastening on to warn the King. To Dauvrey he gave command
of the party and full instructions as to the custody of the prisoner
and the course to pursue when Lincoln was, reached. Then directing
that one of the men be sent to the inn at daybreak to attend him, he
returned once more to his lodgings and retired.
Morning brought no change in the weather; and when he rode off, at the
first touch of light, the rain was still falling with a monotonous
regularity that gave small hope for betterment.
Save a shirt of Italian steel, worn beneath his doublet, De Lacy was
without armor, only a thick cloak being thrown over his ordinary
clothes. It was a long ride to Lincoln ere nightfall, even in the best
of weather; but to make it now was possible only with the very lightest
weight in the saddle and good horse-flesh between the knees. No one
horse--not even Selim--could do the journey over such roads without a
rest, so he left him for Dauvrey to bring; depending upon being able to
requisition fresh mounts from the royal post that had been established
lately along this highway. Nor was he disappointed. The Boar and his
own name, for he was known now throughout England as one high in the
Household, got him quick service and hearty attention, and he made the
best speed possible under the circumstances; though it was often poor
enough to cause him to grit his teeth in helpless despair and anxiety.
League after league was done no faster than a walk; the horse, at every
step, sinking into the mud far above fetlock, and coming to the relief
station completely exhausted. And all the day the rain poured down
without cessation, and the roads grew heavier and more impassable until
they were little else than running streams of dirty water pierced, here
and there, by the crest of a hill that poked its head out like a
submerged mountain.
But through it all, with head bent low on his breast, and bonnet pulled
far down over his eyes, De Lacy forged ahead, tarrying only long enough
at the stations to change mounts.
At mid-day half the distance had been covered, and as evening drew near
they crossed the Trent and, presently, were out of Yorkshire. Then as
night closed about them, the lights of Lincoln glimmered faint in the
fore, and shaking up the tired horses they hastened on. And at last
the castle was reached; the guards at the outer gate, recognizing the
King's Body-Knight, saluted and fell back; and with a sigh of relief,
De Lacy swung down from his saddle, the long ride over at last.
Just within the corridor he came upon Sir Ralph de Wilton, who started
forward in surprise:
"By all the Saints! De Lacy! . . . But are you drowned or in the
flesh?"
"Both, methinks. Where are my quarters--or have none been assigned me?"
"Your room is next mine. Come, I will show the way; for by my faith,
you need a change of raiment; you are mud and water from bonnet to
spur. What in the Devil's name sent you traveling on such a night?"
"The King's business, Ralph; ask me no more at present. . . His
Majesty is in the castle?"
"Aye! and in the best of fettle," De Wilton answered good-naturedly.
"Here are your quarters; and that they are saved for you shows your
position in the Court. The place is crowded to the roof."
"I fancy I can thank you rather than my position--at any rate, Ralph,
squire me out of these clothes; they cling like Satan's chains."
"I would I could cast those same chains off as easily," De Wilton
replied, as he unlaced the rain-soaked doublet and flung it on the
couch. "Tell me, Aymer, did you find aught of . . . of her?"
"No and yes," De Lacy answered, after a silence, "I did not find the
Countess nor any trace of her, but I saw Flat-Nose."
"The Devil! . . . And took him?"
De Lacy shook his head.
"Killed him?"
"Nor that, either--he escaped me."
"Damnation! . . . However it is better than that he die with tale
untold."
"That is my only consolation. Yet I shall kill him whene'er the chance
be given, tale or no tale."
"Where did you see the knave?"
"At Sheffield--and with whom, think you?"
"This whole matter has been so mysterious I cannot even guess," said De
Wilton.
"And wide would you go of the clout if you did," De Lacy replied, as he
flung a short gown about his shoulders and turned toward the door. "It
was Lord Darby."
"Darby! Darby! . . . Mon Dieu, man! are you quite sure?"
Aymer laughed shortly.
"Methinks I am quite sure," he said. "And now I must away to the King."
"So you have come back to us at last," said Richard graciously, as De
Lacy bent knee; "but I fear me, without your lady."
"Aye, Sire, without her. It is your business that has brought me."
"Pardieu!" the King exclaimed; "we gave you leave indefinite. Until
you were willing to abandon the search you need not have returned."
"Your Majesty misunderstands. No vain notion of being needed here has
brought me; but danger to your crown and life--Buckingham is
traitor--Richmond lands this day week as King."
"So! St. Paul! So!" Richard muttered, gnawing at his lower lip. "At
last . . . at last . . . and earlier by six months than I had
thought. . . Yet, better so; it will be ended all the sooner. . .
Where did you get this news and how?"
"At Sheffield, last night."
"Last night!--When did you leave Sheffield?"
"At daybreak. The rain and darkness delayed me until then."
"By St. George! plead no excuse. It was an amazing ride in such
weather."
"I made bold to use the post horses; but it was heavy labor even for
them."
"And for you as well, my good De Lacy. This King thanks you--perchance
the next one will not," and he laughed queerly.
"It is this King I serve; not the next one."
"I believe you," said Richard, putting his hand on Aymer's shoulder.
"Now let me hear the story."
And De Lacy told it in the fewest words he could; making no mention of
Flat-Nose or Darby.
For a while Richard sat quiet, pulling at his chin.
"What a miserable scoundrel Stanley is," he said presently. "He
refuses Stafford because he scents failure ahead; and is ready to make
capital of a trusting friend by betraying him to his doom. For well he
sees that Buckingham has gone too far to recede. I would he had stood
with them,--his own scheming Countess and Buckingham. Then I could
have wiped all of them out at one blow." He struck the bell. "Summon
the Master of Horse," he ordered.
"Ratcliffe," he said, when the latter entered, "Buckingham revolts on
the eighteenth; Richmond lands in England that same day. Dispatch
instantly to the Lord Chancellor for the great seal, and have
commissions of array drawn. Let messengers start with the sun to all
the royal domains and summon hither every man who can wield a sword or
draw a bow. What's the weather?"
"There is no improvement, my liege."
"It will, of a surety, have rained itself out by morning. For it to
continue means a slow muster, and the time is all too short as it is,"
the King said meditatively. "And hark you, further," he broke out
suddenly, "let word go to Lord Stanley at Lathom, this night yet, of
this matter, bidding him instantly gather his retainers and report at
Nottingham."
Ratcliffe hurried away, to return almost instantly with a packet which
he gave the King.
"From Stanley," he said. "It arrived but this moment."
Richard flashed a smile across to De Lacy.
"He moves quickly, by St. Paul!" . . . then with a touch of sarcasm:
"Hold a bit, Ratcliffe; perchance our news may be a trifle old in
Lathom." He broke the seals and spread the parchment under the candles
on the table. It ran:
"To Our Sovereign Lord the King:
"It has come to us that Henry Tudor, styled Earl of Richmond, intends
to sail with an army from St. Malo, on the twelfth day coming of the
present month, and will adventure to land at the town of Plymouth on
the sixth day thereafter, there and then to proclaim himself King.
According, will we muster instantly our Strength and proceed, with all
dispatch, to meet Your Majesty at Nottingham, or wheresoever it may be
we are commanded.
"Written with humble allegiance and great haste at our Castle of
Lathom, this tenth day of October.
"Stanley."
"It will be unnecessary to advise the Lord Stanley--he has already
learned of the matter," said Richard--and Ratcliffe hurried away. He
passed the letter to De Lacy. "Read it. . . Now you see the depth and
foresight of this man. But for your chance discovery and furious ride
he would have been the first to warn me of this danger. Note his
shrewdness: he does not mention Buckingham, but only the Tudor, his own
step-son; and hence the greater will seem his loyalty. And by St.
Paul! he bests me. I must accept his message at its seeming value; for
he will now follow it by prompt action. Yet his motive is as plain as
God's sun: he would hasten Buckingham to the block, and himself to his
dead friend's offices. Well, so be it. When I can read his purposes I
hold him half disarmed. He shall be Constable of England--have the
title without its dangerous powers. The higher he go the further the
fall when he stumble," and the dagger went down into its sheath with a
click. . . "Pardieu, De Lacy! it would seem that you are ever getting
into my confidences. But then neither do you like the Stanley."
"So little, Sire, that I shall hope to see that stumble."
"It will be a passing grateful sight to many another also, I warrant."
Then with one of those quick shifts of thought characteristic of his
active mind: "Did you find naught of the Countess of Clare in all these
weeks?"
"I came upon a clue last night," De Lacy answered.
"And let it slip to hasten hither?"
"Not exactly; the clue will follow me here."
"Follow you? Explain."
"I found Flat-Nose in Sheffield."
"And caught him?"
"Alas! no; he escaped in the darkness, but we captured his companion.
He is the clue that follows."
"Was there anything about him to show what lord he serves?"
"He serves Your Majesty."
"What, sir!--Serves me?"