"I thank Your Gracious Majesty for the stern impartialness of this
trial," he said with biting sarcasm. "It was planned as skillfully as
was a certain other in the White Tower, adown the Thames, when Hastings
was the victim"--and he gave his sneering laugh; and then repeated it,
as he remarked the shudder it brought to the Countess. "Nathless I am
not whimpering. I have been rash; and rashness is justified only by
success. For I did abduct the Countess of Clare, and have her carried
to my Castle of Roxford. So much is truth." Then he faced Sir Aymer
de Lacy and went on with a malevolent smile. "But she was not a
prisoner there, nor did I take her against her wish. She went by
prearrangement, and remained with me of her own free will. I thought
she loved me, and believed her protestations of loathing for the
upstart De Lacy who, she said, was pursuing her with his suit, And when
she begged me to take her with me and risk your Majesty's anger, I
yielded; and to the end that we might wed, I did embark, in the
plottings of the Duke of Buckingham, upon his engagement, for the Tudor
Henry, that our union would be sanctioned. Later, when the lady seemed
so happy with me at Roxford, methought the marriage could bide a bit,
and so resolved to wait until the battle to choose between Plantagenet
and Tudor. Having the girl, I could then get the estates as payment of
my service to the victor. But it would seem I risked too much upon the
lady's love. For while I was at the wars, either she tired of me and
so deserted Roxford, or having been found there by De Bury and the
Frenchman, as she says, she deemed it wise to play the innocent and
wronged maiden held in durance by her foul abductor. Leastwise, whoso
desires her now is welcome to her," and he laughed again.
Then could De Lacy endure it no longer; and casting off De Bury's
restraining arm, he flashed forth his dagger and sprang toward Darby.
But as he leaped Sir Richard Ratcliffe caught him round the neck and
held him for the space that was needful for him to gather back his wits.
"For God's sake, man, be calm!" he said, as he loosed him. "Let
Richard deal with him."
And the Countess, as Darby's vile insinuations reached her ears, drew
herself up and gently putting aside the Queen, turned and faced him.
And her mouth set hard, and her fingers clenched her palms
convulsively. So, she heard him to the end, proudly and defiantly; and
when he had done, she raised her hand and pointed at him once again.
"Though I am a woman," she exclaimed, "here do I tell you, Lord Darby,
you lie in your throat!"
"Aye, my lady! that he does," a strange voice called; and from the
doorway strode Simon Gorges, the anger on his ugly face flaming red as
the hair above it.
"May I speak, Sire?" he demanded, halting before the Throne and
saluting the King in brusque, soldier fashion.
"Say on, my man," said Richard.
"Then hear you all the truth, touching this dirty business," he cried
loudly. "I am Flat-Nose. At Lord Darby's order, I waylaid and seized
by force the Countess of Clare, and carried her to Roxford Castle.
Never for one moment went she of her own accord, and never for one
moment stayed she willingly. She was prisoner there; ever watched and
guarded, and not allowed outside the walls. In all the weeks she was
there Lord Darby saw her only once. And when he spoke to her of love,
she scorned and lashed him so with words methought he sure would kill
her, for I was just outside the door and heard it all."
"Truly, Sire, you have arranged an entertainment more effective than I
had thought even your deep brain could scheme," Darby sneered, as
Gorges paused for breath. . . "What was your price, Simon? It should
have been a goodly one."
"Measure him not by your standard, my fair lord," said the King. "He
held your castle until none but him was left; and even then yielded not
to his assailants, but only to the Countess."
"And upon the strict engagement that I should not be made to bear
evidence against you," Flat-Nose added. "But even a rough man-at-arms
would be thrice shamed to hear a woman so traduced and not speak in her
favor. Therefore, my lord, I, too, say you lie."
But Darby only shrugged his shoulders and bowed to the Countess.
"Your ladyship is irresistible," he said, "since you have wiles for
both the master and the man."
"Shame! Shame!" exclaimed the grey-haired Norfolk, and the whole
throng joined in the cry.
Then forth stepped Sir Aymer de Lacy.
"I pray you, my liege," said he, "grant me leave to avenge upon the
body of yonder lord the wrongs the Countess of Clare has suffered."
Beatrix made a sharp gesture of dissent and turned to the King
appealingly.
With a smile he reassured her.
"Not so, De Lacy," he said kindly. "We do not risk our faithful
subjects in combat with a confessed traitor. There are those appointed
who care for such as he. . . Nay, sir, urge me not--it is altogether
useless." And he motioned Aymer back to his place.
Then he faced Lord Darby, who met him with a careless smile.
"Out of your own mouth have you condemned yourself," he said. "And
there is now no need for verdict by your Peers. It remains but to pass
upon you the judgment due your crimes. And first: for your foul wrong
to the Countess of Clare and through her, to all womankind, here, in
her presence and before all the Court, you shall be degraded."
Darby's face flushed and he took a quick step backward, like one
stricken by a sudden blow. But he made no reply, save from his angry
eyes.
"What say you, Flat-Nose; will you execute the office?" the King asked.
"And it please you, Sire, I cannot do such shame upon my former
master," Gorges answered bluntly.
"It does please me well, sirrah; though truly your face belies your
heart. . . What, ho! the guard! . . . Let the under-officer come
forward."
In a moment the tall form of Raynor Royk stalked out from the throng,
and halting in the open he raised his halberd in salute.
"Hew me off the spurs from yonder fellow," the King ordered, with a
move of his hand toward the condemned.
Saluting again, the old soldier strode over and with two sharp blows of
his weapon struck the golden insignia of Knighthood from Lord Darby's
heels.
Nor did Darby make resistance; but with arms folded on his breast he
suffered it to be done, though his bosom heaved in the fierce struggle
to be calm, and the flush left his face and it grew gray and drawn, and
bitter agony looked out from his eyes. And many turned away their
heads. And on the dais the Countess had faced about, and the Queen and
she were softly weeping.
Lifting the spurs from the pavement Raynor Royk held them up.
"The order is executed, Sire," he said.
"Fling them into the ditch," the King commanded. "They, too, are
stained with dishonor."
Then in tones cold and passionless, and wherein there was no shade of
mercy, he went on: "And now, Henry Darby--for Lord and Knight you are
no longer--you have suffered penalty for one crime, hear the judgment
for the other: As false to your oath of fealty and traitor to your
King, the sentence is that you be taken hence to Tyburn and there
hanged by the neck until dead--and may the Lord Omnipotent have pity on
your soul. Remove him."
"Come," said Raynor Royk, and led him through the crowd, which drew
shudderingly aside to give him passage.
And Darby--stunned by the stern justice that had sent him to die a
common felon on Tyburn Tree, instead of as a Lord and Peer of England,
on the block on Tower Hill--went with dazed brain and silently; and ere
his faculties returned, he was among the guards in the rear. Then with
a sudden twist he turned about and shouted with all his voice:
"Long live Henry Tudor!"
It was his last defiance. The next instant he was dragged outside and
the doors swung shut behind him; while from all the Court went up the
answering cry:
"Long live Plantagenet! God save the King!"
And when silence came the Countess and De Lacy were gone.
"So," said Sir Aymer, as Beatrix and he reached the quiet of the
Queen's apartments, "your troubles end--the sun shines bright again."
The Countess sank into a chair and drew him on the arm beside her.
"My troubles ended when you crossed the courtyard of Roxford," she
replied, taking his hand in both her own, "but yours have not begun."
"Wherefore, sweetheart?" he asked. "I thought mine, too, had ended
there."
"No," with a shake of the ruddy head . . . "no. . . Your heaviest
troubles are yet to come."