"Then in God's Name, why are you at Pontefract?"
"Easy, Sir John, easy," Aymer answered, his hand on the other's
shoulder. "Do you think I would be in Yorkshire if Beatrix were not
there, also?"--and forthwith he plunged into a narrative of the events
from his encounter with Darby at Sheffield to the death of Buckingham.
"A pretty scheme of Darby's, truly," Sir John commented; "and the dog
has played it well. He has nerve uncommon so to brave the royal
Richard in his very Court. It is well for you there was no battle, or
onfall even, else would you have got an arrow or a sword thrust from
behind. . . Now as to Beatrix; is she at Roxford?"
"There or at Kirkstall Abbey."
"True enough; and a most likely place to conceal her the instant Darby
was suspected."
De Lacy took a quick turn up and down the room. "God in Heaven, Sir
John! has Beatrix come through this without injury or insult?"
"What! What! Injury or insult! They would not dare------?" De Bury
cried passionately.
"They have dared to seize and hold her prisoner--would they would dare
no more."
The old Knight sank back into his chair and covered his face with his
hands. . . "The heiress of the Clares--the favorite of the Queen. . .
They would not dare.--Yet if they have------"
"Beatrix will be dead," said De Lacy, "and naught left for me but
vengeance."
"Aye! she was ever a brave lass and would kill herself without a whit
of hesitation. Nathless, the rescue or the vengeance is for me,
also--I ride with you to-morrow?"
"But are you strong enough to risk it?"
"By St. Luke! strong enough to ride to Land's End if need be to strike
a blow for Beatrix,"--smiting the table with his fist.
"Then together be it, and welcome. Here is to the Countess and her
rescue ere the morrow's sun go down!" and he filled two goblets with
wine.
"And death and confusion to her captors," Sir John echoed, raising high
his glass.
Clad in full mail and followed by threescore men-at-arms and as many
archers the two Knights set out from Pontefract the following morning.
After due discussion they had determined that the time for cautious
indirection was passed and that there would be no quibbling with the
Abbot of Kirkstall. He would be called upon to produce the Countess or
to disclose where she was hidden, as well as to confess all that he
knew concerning the abduction. They were not in a mood to argue or to
be trifled with; and ill would it be for Aldam if he tried evasion or
grew stubborn.
And that they came in spirit scarce pacific was declared by their first
act when the Abbey was reached. With the haft of his battle-axe De
Lacy struck the outer gate a resounding blow; and getting no prompt
response, followed it with a second that rang among the buildings and
corridors within. Straightway there came the shuffle of sandaled feet
and a fumbling at the wicket, which opening slowly, disclosed the
rotund face and heavy, sleepy eyes of Father Ambrose.
"Well! what means this unseemly bluster?" he began. . . . "Your
lordships' pardon--I will open instantly," and hurried to remove the
bars.
"We seek speech with the Lord Abbot," said De Lacy, halting beside the
lodge, while the soldiers filed into the courtyard and drew into line
at the farther side.
The monk watched this proceeding with blank surprise.
"Hear you not?" Aymer demanded sharply, letting his mailed hand fall
heavily on the other's shoulder. "We seek the Abbot."
Father Ambrose shrank back in amaze at the tones and action.
"His reverence is engaged at present in a session of the Chapter," he
faltered.
"Good--we will interrogate him there," Aymer answered; and Sir John and
he galloped across to the church and dismounted.
In the Chapter-house, the brothers, both ecclesiastical and lay, were
assembled in convocation. On the dais, in the recess at one side of
the hall, sat the Abbot in his great carved chair of state. He was
leaning slightly forward, chin on hand, regarding with calm and
critical scrutiny the faces of the white-robed throng below him. And
the monks, crowded on their narrow oaken benches, felt the stern eyes
upon them and grew restless; for none knew how soon he might be called
forward for rebuke before them all. And Aldam did not spare words when
he administered his corrections; and not one of the Cistercians but
would have chosen the heaviest task of the fields for four and twenty
hours in preference to a single minute's lashing by his biting tongue.
On the Abbot's right was Father James, the Prior, whose jolly face and
ample girth were equalled only by the Sub-prior, Father Albert, the
favorite of all the Abbey, who permitted the monks to do their own
sweet wills so long as it did not interfere with the necessary labors
of the farms and religious ceremonies.
"Let the names of the candidates for admission to full brotherhood in
our holy Order be read," the Abbot ordered.
The Chancellor stepped forward and with much rattle of parchment opened
the roll and cleared his throat preparatory to intoning. But he got no
further. The religious calm was rudely broken by the clash of steel on
the bare pavement of the ante-chamber, and as Aldam raised his head in
angry surprise the door was flung back and the two Knights, visors up,
strode down the aisle.
Instantly there was confusion; the monks, like timid children, drew far
away from these impious invaders of their peacefulness; some made as
though to flee; and all broke out into cries of alarm and terror.
The Abbot sprang to his feet, his eyes flashing, his face pale with
suppressed ire.
"Silence!" he thundered. "Return this instant to your seats, you
fearful ones!"
The brothers huddled back into their places, trembling. There was for
them small choice between the anger of their ruler and the armed men in
their midst.
"Truly this is strange conduct for Sir John de Bury and Sir Aymer de
Lacy," the Abbot exclaimed as they halted before the dais. "Since
when, pray, has it been deemed knightly to offer such affront to Holy
Church?"
"Since a mitred Abbot of Holy Church has shamed his sacred office," De
Lacy answered curtly.
"What, sirs!" Aldam cried. "Do you dare insult the Abbot of Kirkstall,
here in his very chapter, and hope to go unpunished either in this
world or the next?"
Aymer folded his arms over the shaft of his battle axe and laughed
grimly.
"In this world methinks small need have we to fear your reverence; and
as for the next world we will chance it. But be advised: tax us not
with threats; our patience is likely to be short."
"And ours is gone entirely--do you, Sir John de Bury, approve this rash
youth's sacrilege?"
"Aye, that I do," De Bury answered, his face set as stone.
"Are you both mad?" the Abbot exclaimed.
"Yea, that we are," replied De Lacy. "Mad with anger and resentment.
Can you guess why?"
The monk made no answer save a sneer.
"Listen, and you and your underlings shall hear: One evening a month or
so aback--your memory, good father, will serve you whether it was one,
or two, or three--a certain demoiselle styled Countess of Clare, Maid
to Her Majesty, the Queen of England, while near the Hermit's Cell in
the escort of Sir John de Bury, her uncle and guardian, was waylaid and
by force and violence seized upon and carried off. And though there
was hue and cry and searchings without rest, yet it was unavailing."
"Certes, we know all these matters," Aldam broke in angrily.
"Yes, you know them--and much more."
The Cistercian's face changed its expression not a whit.
"Are you aware, my lord Abbot, that the Duke of Buckingham has died
upon the block?" De Lacy questioned.
Aldam shrugged his shoulders. "It was scarce Stafford's death that
brought you to Kirkstall," he scoffed.
Aymer laughed derisively. "Think you so? Then are you mistaken
woefully. But for it I would be at Salisbury and your foul crime still
unsuspected."
"Now has patience run its limit!" the Abbot exclaimed. "Brothers of
Benedict! throw me these two godless ones without the gates." And
seizing the huge chair beside him, with strength astonishing in one so
slender, he whirled it high and brought it down at De Lacy's head.
But the Knight sprang lightly aside, and the heavy missile, tearing
itself by sheer weight from the priest's fingers, crashed upon the
pavement and broke asunder.
If there had been any possibility of help from his frightened flock it
was ended by this ill-timed blow. The Prior and his fellows on the
dais made not a single motion; and save for an excited swaying and
whispering, the monks sat stolid on their benches, either too
frightened to flee or too indifferent to the Abbot's safety to care to
aid him. For once had the habit of trembling obedience, yoked upon
them by years of stern domination, been loosed by the spirit of fear or
the hope of release.
And with a sneer of disgust on his face he surveyed them; and the scorn
in his voice must have shamed them to the floor had they been of the
blood of such as feel disgrace.
"You cowardly curs!" he exclaimed; "have you no spark of manhood left
among you?"
"Perchance they, in their turn, can dub you cur," said De Lacy tersely,
springing on the dais and taking hold upon the Abbot's arm; "for here,
on the dying word of the Duke of Buckingham, do I accuse you of
complicity in the abduction of the Countess of Clare."
Aldam shook off the mailed fingers.
"What! What!" he cried. "Would you lay hands in violence upon one of
God's anointed? . . . Stand back, Sir Aymer de Lacy . . . and you,
too, Sir John de Bury, lest I smite you both with the Church's
anathema."
A gasp of horror came from the monks, and even the two Priors were
appalled at the threat--dire enough, indeed, to most men in that age,
but little short of Hell itself to such as were cloister-bred.
De Lacy folded his arms again over his battle-axe.
"It was no purpose nor intent of mine," he said, "to offer you
violence------"
"Nathless, it was done," the Abbot broke in arrogantly, "and naught but
sharp penance can atone for it and for your deeds here this day."
De Lacy smiled contemptuously. "Methinks, lord Abbot, you are
strangely dull of brain to fancy you can fright us so. Believe me, we
care as little for your curse as for your broken chair. Nor did I
speak in apology for my action. I meant no violence then; yet if we do
not get true answer to our questions, be assured there shall be
violence both meant and done."
The monks groaned aloud; but the Abbot only shrugged his shoulders.
"You have heard," De Lacy went on with steady menace; "and do not think
it is an idle boast. Answer! have you the Countess of Clare within the
bounds of Kirkstall Abbey?"
Aldam raised his hand in seeming horror. "Think you that the monks of
Benedict------?" he began.
"Answer!" cried Aymer, striking the arm of the Prior's chair with his
mailed fist so fiercely that its stout occupant, in sudden terror, fled
to the rear of the dais.
Instantly the Abbot seated himself in the vacant place.
"I frighten not so easily as the timid Brother James," he said. "But
as the lady is not with us, you are welcome to that knowledge."
"Where is she, then?"
The Cistercian leaned back and stared De Lacy in the face. "If I knew
I would not tell you."
"You do know--and either you tell or you hang from your own gate beam."
Aldam half arose from his chair; then dropped back and laughed.
"You would not dare," he said; "and were I the abductor himself."
De Lacy faced toward the door.
"What ho! Without!" he called.
A score of men-at-arms burst into the room with drawn swords. The
monks set up a fresh cry of terror and fell to chanting prayers, and
Father Alfred and the Chancellor sought refuge in the shadow with the
Prior. But the Abbot never stirred in his seat, save to shift his gaze
to the fresh disturbers of his authority.
At a sign from De Lacy, the soldiers sheathed their weapons and fell
into double rank near the door, while Raynor Royk advanced to the dais
and saluted. Then the Knight turned again to the Abbot.
"We shall search this Abbey from loft to cellar,"' he said. "If the
Countess be not here and you still remain obdurate, then shall you
stretch halter, an you were the Pope of Rome himself. . . Raynor, we
commit these good fathers to your custody. Let none quit the room--if
need be, cut down any who attempt it."
All this time Sir John de Bury was leaning on his long sword, his cold
grey eyes fixed on the Abbot. Now he faced about and, silent still,
tramped out of the Chapter-house beside De Lacy. And with them went
half of the men-at-arms.