Beatrix of Clare Page 3

  III

  THE VOICE ON THE RAMPARTS

  On quitting the Duke, De Lacy dispatched a page for his squire and wasthen conducted to his quarters on the floor above.

  Tossing his gauntlets and bascinet upon the high bed that stood in thecorner near the door, he crossed to the small deep window and swungback the sash. Below him lay the broad bailey, that at this hour wasalive with the servitors and retainers of the Duke. Before thedwellings against the inner wall children were playing, and through thefading light of the April afternoon rose a medley of sounds. From thedirection of the distant gateway sounded the ring of steel-shod hoofs,and presently a body of horsemen cantered across the stone pavement anddrew rein before the keep. A gruff command followed, and just as therank was broken and the soldiery dispersed the sweet tones of the bellof All Saints' Chapel came floating over the walls.

  The Knight crossed himself instinctively, and then, leaning on theledge, his thoughts turned to his family's past and to why he, thoughof the blood of one of the Conqueror's favorite Barons, was a strangerin England.

  The main branch of the House of Lacy, once so powerful in Britain, hadbecome extinct almost two centuries before; and although Sir Aymer'sancestor had borne an honorable part in the wars of the Third Edwardyet, like Chandos, he was content to remain a simple banneret. Whenthe Second Richard went down before his usurping cousin, the then headof the family had stood, to the last, true to his rightful King; andhence it was small wonder that to Sir Richard de Lacy the atmosphere ofthe Court of the new Monarch was not agreeable. When Henry of Monmouthbrought France again under English rule, Sir Richard rode no more tothe wars; and the heir being but an infant, his retainers were musteredunder a stranger's banner. During the later struggles of Bedford andof Warwick to retain the fast relaxing hold of England upon the domainsbeyond the Channel, the then Baron had done his devoir full knightly,but it is not in a losing struggle that families win advancement, and,to the last Lancastrian King, Sir Edward de Lacy was not known. Thencame the Wars of the Roses and, ere Aymer's sire could bind the WhiteRose to his helmet, a sudden illness stilled his hand in death; andthus, again, had the House lost an opportunity to rise in fame andpower. Much honor had Sir Aymer won in the recent small wars andconstant fightings of the Continent, and in the right of his mother'sfamily he might have aspired to high rank at the French Court; butLouis, "the Fell," was not a warrior's King, nor had long residence ina foreign clime bred in Sir Aymer forgetfulness of the land of hisbirth.

  And so, at length, he had furled his pennon, and followed by hisfaithful squire and a few of his retainers he sought the English Court.And with him went the solemn purpose either to restore the once greatname he bore to its place among the chivalry of England or to let itperish utterly with him. Within a few weeks of his arrival, Edward'ssudden death occurred, and he had been quick to appreciate that hisopportunity lay with Gloucester in the North. A friendship formed withthe Duke of Buckingham some years previous in Paris, and which had beenrenewed in London, had stood him in good stead; for being acquaintedwith De Lacy's purpose of seeking Pontefract, Stafford had to his greatsatisfaction made him his confidential messenger in the very matterwhich was then so near to Richard's heart.

  The entry of the squire broke in on the Knight's thoughts, and heturned from the window.

  "Make haste, Giles," said he, "and get me out of this steel."

  With the skill of long practice it was quickly done; and removing thesuit of thin yellow leather worn under the harness, De Lacy donned adoublet and short gown of black velvet, and then, throwing himself uponthe bed, he awaited the summons to the evening meal.

  Meanwhile, the squire had laid aside his own armor and stood forth inhis leather suit that was creased and soiled by the iron weight.

  Giles Dauvrey was no fledgling whose apprenticeship had begun among thedainty pages of my lady's bower. A Gascon, and lowly born, he was asimple man-at-arms when, in a small affray on the Italian border, hehad chanced to ward from Sir Aymer de Lacy's head the battle-axe that,falling on him from behind, must else have cleft him to the gorget.The young Knight had thereupon obtained the man's transfer to his ownfollowing and--becoming assured of his bravery and martial fitness--hehad made him his squire when, a few months later, an Italian cross-bolthad wrought a vacancy in the post. Stocky in build, wonderfully quickand thoroughly trained in arms, he also had the rare faculty ofexecuting an order without the slightest evasion, and could be trustedin any emergency either of discretion or valor. Right often had thetwo stood side by side in the press of skirmish and the rush ofbattle,--for they had ever sought the locality of strife--and there hadcome to be little choice for the foeman between the accomplishedaxe-play of the master and the sweeping blows of the sturdy squire.And as among the veteran soldiery of the French-Italian borders no namestood higher than De Lacy, so also was no wearer of the silver spursmore respected than he who bore the banner of the Trippant Stag.

  "It is a great fortress, Giles," said the Knight. "Never have I seen astronger."

  "Marry, no; nor one, I ween, wherein the discipline was sterner. Areall castles in this land of yours, my lord, so conducted?"

  "All wherein the Duke of Gloucester holds command."

  "Of a truth, then," said Dauvrey, "the tales I have heard of thisPrince are not so wide of the clout."

  "What were the tales?"

  "They were many and various, yet I gathered that he was a great warriorand fit to be a ruler of men."

  "And you gathered truly," returned De Lacy. "He is the best soldierand shrewdest man in all this island Kingdom."

  "How looks he to the eye, my lord?"

  "You may judge that for yourself; observe him at the evening meal.Here comes the summons."

  A step came rapidly up the stairs and a page halted at the half-openeddoorway.

  "His Grace requests that Sir Aymer de Lacy join him in the great hall,"he said.

  The Knight arose and flung his short cloak about him.

  "Lead on," he ordered; "we follow."

  When they entered the hall the Duke was already seated on the dais,surrounded by the officers of his household. On the right, De Lacyrecognized Sir Robert Wallingford, to whom, as Constable of Pontefract,he had been conducted upon his arrival; but the others he was not ableto identify, although, of course, he knew by reputation several whoshould be among them. The chair on Richard's left was unoccupied, andhe motioned for De Lacy to take it.

  "Sit you here," he said. . . . "Gentlemen, I present Sir Aymer deLacy. He is fresh from London and, I doubt not, can give you much newsof the Court and Capital."

  All arose and bowed to De Lacy, who bowed back at them.

  "My knowledge, such as it is," said he, "is freely yours. Yet as I wasonly a few weeks in London my budget may be very meagre. But if youwill ask, I will gladly tell you what I know."

  And they did not hesitate to ask, and he was kept busy answeringquestions upon every conceivable subject, from the details of thefuneral of the dead King to the fashion of the latest gown. Indeed itwas not until the meal was almost over that he had an opportunity for aword aside to the Duke.

  "May I ask Your Grace the name of the fair-haired man yonder?" he said.

  "I cry pardon," Richard exclaimed. "I forgot you were a stranger inEngland. He is my Chamberlain, Sir William Catesby. . . Theblack-moustached Knight with the scar on his forehead, who has just putdown his wine glass, is Sir Richard Ratcliffe. . . The elderly manbeside him with the gray hair and ruddy countenance is Sir RobertBrackenbury. . . The one with the thin, dark face and broad shouldersis Lord Darby of Roxford.--The rest are younger men and of lessprominence. . . The one beside Darby is Sir Ralph de Wilton, next tohim is Sir James Dacre, and on Dacre's left is Sir Henry de Vivonne."

  He pushed back his chair and arose.

  "Gentlemen," said he, "you are excused from further attendance." Thenhe called to De Wilton.

  "Sir Ralph," he said, "Sir Aymer de Lacy is of the Household.
Givehim some idea of his duties, and then sponsor him in Her Grace'spresence chamber."

  And Aymer liked De Wilton on the instant, with his courteous manner andfrank, gracious smile, and for an hour or more they sat in pleasantconversation. Then Sir Ralph was summoned to the Duke, and De Lacy,postponing, perforce, his presentation to the Duchess' household untilthe morrow, went for a stroll on the ramparts.

  Night had settled down; the sky was clear and through the cool, crispair the stars were shining brightly. The turmoil in the bailey hadsubsided, but from the quarters of the soldiery rose the hum of voicesthat now and then swelled out into the chorus of some drinking orfighting song. There were lights in many of the dwellings where livedthe married members of the permanent garrison, and from them ever andanon came the shrill tones of some shrewish, woman scolding herchildren or berating her lord and master. For a while Sir Aymer pacedthe great wide wall, reflecting upon what had occurred since he came toPontefract and the matters he had learned from De Wilton. But throughit all a woman's face kept with him and led his thoughts awry, andpresently he turned aside and leaned upon the parapet.

  He had found her--and by accident; and had lost her the same instant.Beatrix of Clare, the greatest heiress in England, was not for him--awanderer and a stranger. She had warned him plainly that day inWindsor Forest--though he, not knowing her, had missed the point tillnow. He might not presume to speak to her until properlypresented--nor even then to refer to what had passed or so much asintimate that they had met before. . . And yet had not Gloucesterhimself bade him be not so humble--that his birth was equal to her own?Why should he not aspire . . . why not seek her favor . . . what morefavorable conditions would he ever know than now? How extraordinary itwas that she should be in Pontefract--the length of England from wherehe saw her last. Surely the Fates were kind to him! And had sherecognized him? No, for she had not even given him a glance. He hadthought to meet her in the presence chamber this very night; andnow--he must wait until the morrow. Yet the morrow was sure . . . andthen he would see again that sweet face, those ruddy tresses and greyeyes . . . would hear that silvery voice. . .

  Hark! he heard it now.

  "Why so abstracted, sir?" it seemed to say.

  He stood quite still--would it come again?

  St. Denis! there it was!

  "Is she so far away, Sir Ralph?" it asked.

  Sir Ralph! What had Sir Ralph to do with this music?

  There came a soft laugh and a touch of a hand on his shoulder.

  He whirled around--and stared in wonder at the woman of his dream.

  "Oh!" she said. "Oh! I thought you were Sir Ralph de Wilton . . . thenight is dark--pray, forgive me."

  De Lacy bowed low.

  "I am Sir Ralph de Wilton," he said.

  The Countess smiled.

  "You are very good," she said, and moved away.

  "May not Sir Ralph walk with you?" De Lacy asked.

  She stopped and with head half turned looked at him thoughtfully.

  "Yes, if he wish," she answered.

  For a space they walked in silence; she with head averted. . .Presently she laughed.

  "Silence is new in Sir Ralph," she said.

  "He was waiting leave to speak."

  "And that is newer still."

  "You like the new?" he asked audaciously.

  "Oh! it is variety for the moment"--with the faintest lift of thechin--"though doubtless it would get tiresome in time."

  "Let us enjoy the moment then," said he. "I was thinking of you whenyou came."

  "I regret, Sir Ralph, I may not be equally flattering."

  "So does Sir Ralph."

  "Though I will admit my thoughts were of a man."

  "He shall have my gage at sunrise."

  She shook her head. "They were not worth it--only idle curiosityconcerning a new member of the Household I noticed in the Duke'schamber this afternoon." . . . She became interested in her cloak. "Ido not now even recall his name," she added negligently.

  De Lacy smiled and looked at the stars.

  Presently she shot a quick glance up at him.

  "Did you not meet him at the evening meal, Sir Ralph?"

  "He was there--on the Duke's left," De Lacy answered carelessly.

  "And his name?"

  "De Lacy---Aymer de Lacy."

  "A good North of England name," she commented.

  "Aye, it once ran with Clare in Yorkshire," he answered.

  "The Clares are done," said she, and sighed a bit.

  "And the flower of them all bloomed last," he added gravely.

  But she put the words aside.

  "Do not be foolish, Sir Ralph. You know I dislike compliments. Tellme about this Sir Aymer de Lacy--I never heard of him at Court."

  "He has lived all his life in France."

  "Patriotic, truly!" with a shrug.

  "As to that," said the Knight, "it is fit that he should answer forhimself, and not through Sir Ralph de Wilton; though either Richard ofGloucester entirely ignored the point or else he was quite satisfied."

  She laughed. "Then it is not for me to raise it; so tell me why hecame to Pontefract."

  "To take service with the Duke, I fancy--and methinks he has alreadyfound one more reason for staying than for coming."

  "The Duke is reason enough for a soldier who wants a man for a master,"she said. Then suddenly faced about. "Let us hasten--I fear I haveoverstayed my time."

  As they rounded a bastion near the keep they encountered Lord Darby.

  "Ah, Beatrix, well met," he said, offering his arm and noddingcarelessly to De Lacy. "Her Grace desires you."

  "Did she send you for me?" the Countess asked, ignoring his arm andhurrying on--and De Lacy noting it, kept beside her.

  Lord Darby forced a smile. "Not exactly; I volunteered to go for you."

  "You are very kind," she said rather tartly; "a moment longer and youwould have been saved the trouble."

  Darby's smile failed completely and he made no answer.

  In the doorway the Countess halted--and gave De Lacy her hand.

  "I thank you for the walk," she said, as he bowed over it; then a merrygleam came in her eyes--"Good night, Sir . . . Aymer."