Chapter 13

Until the night when he had lost his betrothed, Aymer de Lacy had been genial, frank and open-hearted; taking life as it came, meeting man against man in the open, searching not into the dark. But the outrage at the Hermit's Cell, and the days of distress which followed had worked a change. He was growing cold and stern and distrustful; cautious of speech; reserved and distant in manner; seeking always for a clue behind even the most friendly face or cordial greeting; and holding every stranger under the ban of suspicion.

At length having long since finished his wine, he was about to rap on the table for the landlord when the front door opened and a young girl glided into the room. She wore the fancy dress of the tymbestere, a red bodice slashed and spangled, and a red skirt that came midway between the knee and the ground, disclosing a pair of trim and shapely ankles and small feet. But as if to compensate for this display, her face was hidden by a black mask through which the eyes shone and smiled, but which effectively concealed her other features.

Pausing an instant, until satisfied she was observed by all, she began a slow and stately dance, timing her steps to the soft jingle of her tambourine. The girl had a lithe gracefulness and stately bearing unusual in those of her class--whose exhibitions were rather of the fast and furious kind with a liberal display of their forms--and when with a last low curtsy she ended, there was plenty of applause from all save the two monks. They eyed her with a displeasure they took no trouble to conceal; and when she tripped lightly over to them and extended her tambourine for an offering they drew back sourly.

"Avaunt, foul baggage!" the elder exclaimed. "Have you no shame to ply your lewd vocation before a priest of God? Verily, you do well to hide your face behind a mask."

The girl drew back timidly, and with never a word in reply passed on to the two men-at-arms. Here she got a different sort of greeting.

"Do not fret your pretty eyes over that pair of hypocrites in black, yonder," one of them exclaimed loudly and speaking directly at the Benedictines; "they are holy only in a crowd. If they met you when none else were near, they would tear off each other's gowns to be the first in your favors."

"Right, comrade mine, right!" laughed his companion, bringing his fist down upon the table until the mugs rattled.

The two monks turned upon them.

"You godless men," said one sternly; "it is well you bear no badge of maintenance, else would your lord have chance to work some wholesome discipline upon you."

But the men-at-arms only laughed derisively and made no response.

Meanwhile the damsel had approached the strange Knight and sought a gratuity. With ostentatious display he drew out a quarter noble and dropped it on the tambourine. Then as she curtsied in acknowledgment he leaned forward, and caught her arm.

"Come, little one, show me your face," he said.

With a startled cry the girl sprang back and struggled to get free. But the Knight only smiled and drew her slowly to his knee, shifting his arm to her waist.

"Pardieu! my dear, be not so timid," he scoffed. "Kiss me and I may release you."

For answer she struck at him with the tambourine, cutting his chin with one of the metal discs so that the blood oozed out.

"Little devil!" he muttered; and without more ado bent back her head, whispering something the while.

With a last desperate effort to free herself, which was futile, and with the dark face drawing with mocking slowness toward her own, she realized her utter helplessness and cried appealingly for aid.

In a trice, she was seized and torn away; and between her and her assailant, and facing him, stood Sir Aymer de Lacy, his arms folded and a contemptuous smile upon his lips. The next instant, without a word, the other plucked out his dagger and leaped upon him, aiming a thrust at his neck. By a quick step to the side Aymer avoided the rush, and as the other lurched by he struck him a swinging right arm blow behind the ear that sent him plunging among the rushes on the floor, while the dagger rolled across to the farther wall.

"Bravo! Bravo!" cried the two men-at-arms. "Shall we throw him into the street, my lord?"

He waved them back; and the Knight, who had been slightly dazed, struggled to his feet and looked about him. Then seeing De Lacy, who had resumed his calmly contemptuous attitude, he grasped the situation and a wave of red anger crossed his face. But he was not of the blustering sort, it seemed, and drawing out a handkerchief he proceeded carefully to fleck the dirt and dust from his doublet and hose. When he had removed the last speck, he bowed low.

"Shall we settle this matter with swords or daggers, my lord?" he said, in French.

"I think too much of my good weapons to soil them on one who assuredly has stolen the golden spurs he wears," De Lacy replied scornfully.

"My name is Sir Philebert de Shaunde and my escutcheon quite as ancient as your own," with another bow.

"It is a pity, then, it has fallen upon one who needs more than his own word to sustain the claim."

De Shaunde's face went red again and his voice trembled and was very soft. "His Grace of Buckingham will be my voucher, though it will misdemean him much as against one who has a tymbestere for mistress and is a coward, as well."

De Lacy glanced quickly around the room:

"She is no longer here to feel your insults," he said, "but it is her due that I refute them. I never saw the maid until I saved her from your foul caress. As for my cowardice, good sir, I but protect my knighthood against a caitiff whose very touch is dark pollution."

"I shall proclaim your refusal to accept my defiance before King and Court and let them judge of the quarrel."

"So be it--you will find me known there," Aymer replied curtly; and sauntering back to his table he called for another bottle of wine.

De Shaunde, however, stayed only long enough to give some order to the landlord, who received it with rather scant courtesy; then with showy indifference, slapping his gauntlets against his leg as he walked, he left the room by the street door just as Giles Dauvrey entered. The squire stood aside to let him pass, then crossed to his master.

"Did you recognize that fellow?" De Lacy queried.

"No, my lord."

"He styles himself 'Sir Philebert de Shaunde.'"

Dauvrey scratched his head. "I am sure I never saw him before."

"Well, it is small matter, but as we may see more of him hereafter it will be wise to keep him in mind"--and he told of the encounter.

"What became of the damsel?" the squire asked.

"She disappeared during the scuffle; but doubtless the landlord can advise you where to find her," De Lacy said good-naturedly.

"A most extraordinary tymbestere who refuses a Knight's caress," Dauvrey explained.

"But would not, you think, refuse a squire's?"

"Nay, my lord, what I think is that she might bear investigation. She is in disguise, I will stake my head."

"How does that concern us?"

"Only as every mystery concerns us now. To solve one sometimes solves another."

"It is a queer notion, Giles, but it will do no harm to question the host. Meanwhile, I will await you without."

Night had fallen and it was very dark save when, at intervals, the narrow crescent of the new moon cut through the clouds that were crowding one another in heavy ranks across the sky. Before the inn the street was illumined feebly by the reflection of the torches and candles from within, and at wide intervals along the roadway light shone from the houses. But all this only made more dense and visible the blackness that lay around.

From far up the street came the sound of singing and laughter; and De Lacy, recognizing the voices of some of his own men, envied them their light hearts and freedom from care and sorrow. They lived for the day; the morrow was sufficient when it came.

Presently the squire appeared.

"It is as I suspected," he said. "The girl has never before been seen about the inn or even in the town. He says he knows all the tymbesteres for miles around, but this one is not of them."

"It is a pity we had none to watch her when she left the room," De Lacy replied. "However, I hear our men making merry out yonder, and after going with me to see that they are up to no serious mischief you are at liberty to devote the entire time until the morning in searching for this mysterious maid--though it will be good sleep wasted, I have no doubt."

The two started down the road, keeping well in the centre where the walking was likely to be easiest. There were no side paths and the way was rough and full of holes. Stumbling along in the dark they came, after a little, to a house from the upper story of which a bright light was shining. De Lacy glanced indifferently at the window--then halted short and seizing Dauvrey's arm pointed upward.

Just inside the open casement, and standing so that every line of his face and shoulders was distinctly visible, was the man De Lacy and all the royal commanders of England had been seeking for the last three weeks.

His thick red hair was bare of casquetel and there could be no mistaking that great, flat nose, even if there had not been the bright scar blazed across the face by Sir John de Bury's sword, and the short, thick-set figure to complete the identification.

De Lacy's heart gave a great leap. Was this, then, the end of his chase? Was Beatrix in yonder house? Would he soon hold her in his arms--or was he about to learn that she was lost to him for ever? In the tumultuous rush of feeling his power of quick decision left him for the moment; but Dauvrey's muffled exclamation broke the spell.

"It is he--Flat-Nose!"

"Aye!" De Lacy whispered, drawing the squire aside into the shadow. "He must be seized at once. Summon the men and surround the house. I will remain on guard. Hasten, Giles! In God's name, hasten!"

Dauvrey plunged away into the darkness and Aymer, choosing a position from which he could best watch the window, but at the same time be himself hidden, settled back to his anxious wait.

Flat-Nose was not alone; presently he began to speak to some one behind him, and hoping to overhear the conversation, Aymer worked his way with great care across the road to the house. There were no lights on the lower floor, and the upper story, projecting a foot or more over the street, made him secure from observation.

But the new position was very little better than the other one; and try as he might he could not catch anything but an occasional word which, in itself, had no significance. He began to grow impatient--it seemed most unduly long since Dauvrey had gone.

Then a chair was shoved back in the room above and some one began to move about. Suddenly a head was thrust out and Flat-Nose peered into the darkness.

"God in Heaven! what blackness!" he exclaimed. "The Devil's own night for a ride. . . No danger," he went on, answering some remark from within. "I know every path in Yorkshire."

It was evident he was preparing to depart and De Lacy drew his sword and stood close beside the door. He wished only to disable the fellow; but he would kill him rather than suffer him to escape. Just then, a number of forms came slowly out of the darkness and at a motion from the one in front flitted off toward the rear of the house. It was Dauvrey and the men, at last, and the Knight gave a sigh of relief.

To avoid crossing the zone of light in regaining the place where he had left his master, the squire drew close to the house and so chanced upon him.

"Just in time," De Lacy whispered, "Flat-Nose is going."

An inside door was opened and a heavy step came down the stairs. There was a fumbling with the fastenings of the street door; then it swung back and a man stepped out and shut it behind him.

The next instant two pairs of strong arms closed around him, De Lacy's hand fastened on his throat, he was borne to the ground, and before he could struggle his legs were bound above the knees with Dauvrey's belt. His arms were then quickly secured and a piece of cloth thrust into his mouth as a gag. A low hiss brought the nearest soldier to guard him and De Lacy and the squire cautiously entered the house.

It was darker there even than outside and they listened for a space; but all was quiet. Then working carefully along the wall, they found a door which stood ajar. De Lacy whispered to make a light, and the squire, with as little noise as possible, struck the flint and ignited the bit of candle he always carried in his pouch. As it flamed timidly up they peered about them. The place was empty, save for a table and a few chairs, but on each side was a door and in the rear the stairway to the upper floor. An examination of the remaining two rooms was barren of results; one was the kitchen and the other a sleeping chamber, but the bed had not been disturbed. If the Countess of Clare were in the house she was on the next floor; and, at least, the man who had been with Flat-Nose must be there, so it would be two prisoners instead of one if he were unable to give a good account of himself.

The stairs were old and shaky and creaked and groaned as they cautiously ascended. And the noise was heard; for suddenly the door at the head of the landing swung back--and Flat-Nose himself stood in the opening.

"What is amiss, my lord?" he began--then stopped. "De Lacy!" he cried and springing back hurled the door shut.

The appearance here of the man they thought was lying bound and helpless in the road held both De Lacy and Dauvrey for an instant. Then with sudden fury they flung themselves up the last few steps and against the door. It yielded easily and they rushed into the room--just as Flat-Nose leaped from the window ledge. And the fortune that had befriended him so long still stood true, and a mocking laugh came back, as the darkness wrapped itself about him.

De Lacy put his hand on the casement to follow when Dauvrey seized him from behind.

"To the front, men, and after him!" he shouted through the window. . . "Your pardon, my dear lord," he said with deep respect, "but you could ill afford to take such risk now. Hark, sir, they are already in pursuit."

Sir Aymer nodded. "You are right, Giles. It would have gained naught but perchance a broken bone. He has escaped this time--on such a night an army would be lost. . . But who, in the Fiend's name, is the fellow we have below?"

Seizing the burning candle from the table, they hurried out, and bending over De Lacy flashed the light across the prisoner's face--and started back in vast amaze.

"Holy St. Denis! Lord Darby!"

For a space he stood looking down upon him; then motioning toward the house he went within, and behind him Dauvrey and the guard bore the captive--and none too easy were their hands.

In the front room De Lacy put down the candle.

"Release him," he ordered. . . "So, sir, you search for the Countess of Clare in company with her abductor. Truly, it is wondrous strange you have not found her. Tell me, my lord, might it be that though we missed the servant we got the master?"

"What I can tell you, my French upstart," Darby retorted, "is that this night's work will bring you heavy punishment."

"Forsooth! From whom?"

"From me perchance; from the King surely."

De Lacy laughed disdainfully. "You always were a braggart, I have heard; yet you will need all your wits to save your own head when arraigned before him."

"Arraigned! Save my head! These are queer expressions for such as you to use to a Peer of England."

"No more queer than for a Peer of England to be an abductor of women."

"You are still pleased to speak in riddles," Darby answered with a shrug.

"Pardieu! it will be a riddle for which you have a shrewd answer ready for His Majesty."

"Methinks you have lost what little sense ever had and are not responsible," said Darby; "therefore I have the pleasure of wishing you a very good night," and he turned toward the door.

De Lacy laughed scornfully.

"Not so fast, my lord," he said. "You will have to bear with my poor company for a space. The King is at Lincoln."

"What has that to do with me? . . . Stand aside, fellow," as Dauvrey barred the way.

For answer the squire drew dagger and the man-at-arms laid a heavy hand on Darby's shoulder. It was useless to try bare fists against such odds and he wheeled about.

"What means this fresh outrage?" he demanded.

"It means that you are my prisoner."

"Your prisoner! And wherefore?"

"As the abductor of the Countess of Clare."

Darby held up his hands in amazement. "Are you clean daft?" he exclaimed.

"It is useless, my lord, longer to play the innocent," said Aymer. "Either confess what has been done with the Countess or to the King you go straightway."

Darby shrugged his shoulders. "Since you have the rogues to obey you and I have not the information you desire, it must be to the King," he said. "And the more haste you use to reach him the quicker will come my time to even scores with you," and he sat down and began to brush the dirt from his garments.

De Lacy eyed him in stern silence, his resentment growing fiercer as he held it in restraint; while the squire, in equal anger, kept shooting his dagger back and forth in its sheath as if impatient to use it. And but for the sake of the information Darby could furnish as to Beatrix, the dagger might have been suffered to do its work and De Lacy raise no hand to stay it. Nay, rather, would he have stood by and watched it strike home with grim satisfaction.

Presently Darby had finished with his clothes and glancing up met De Lacy's eyes. A taunting smile came to his lips and he began to whistle softly to himself. It was De Lacy who spoke first.

"I should like to know," said he, "how one of your craftiness could be so stupid as to carry off the Countess of Clare? What possible profit could you think to gain?"

Darby did not answer at once. When he did, it was with a sneer.

"Methinks, good sir," he said, "you are too stupid to appreciate that you have, yourself, unwittingly advanced the best proof of my innocence. Fools, you know, sometimes speak truth."

"Aye, but even a fool would know that Flat-Nose and you were together in yonder upper room. Can you explain that, my dear lord?"

Darby laughed. "Naught easier, Sir Frenchman, if His Majesty deem it necessary. You will pardon me, however, if I keep you waiting until then."

"So be it. We start for Lincoln at daybreak. Have I your word to ride quietly and attempt no escape, rescue or no rescue?"

"And if I refuse the word?"

"Then shall you go bound hand and foot and strapped to saddle."

"Pasque Dieu! It would be most uncomfortable riding, so I pass my word," Darby replied carelessly. "But, understand me, it is no acknowledgment of your authority either to demand it or to receive it."

"As to that I am answerable to the King, not to you," said De Lacy. "And further, Sir Abductor, if you violate your word--which, indeed, I trust but lightly--you will have an arrow through your carcass ere you have gone two paces. I wish you good-night," and leaving Dauvrey in command he returned to the Red Lion.

XIX

BACK TO THE KING

The door of the Inn was barred, and with the hilt of his dagger De Lacy pounded sharply. It was the host, himself, who admitted him, and as he passed in the man touched his arm.

"May I have a word with you, my lord?" he whispered, and led the way into a small room in the rear. Closing the door very easily he laid his ear against it, and then seeming satisfied came close over.

"You are from the Court, my lord?" he said softly.

"I am of the Court, but not directly from it."

"Then you do not know if His Majesty fear an uprising in the South?"

De Lacy was instantly interested, though he answered indifferently enough. "Uprising! Not likely. Who is so far done with life as to meditate such folly?"

"That I think I know, sir; and it is hatching as sure as Dunstan's a saint."

"Which is anything but sure, my man. Come to the facts."

"Do you recall the two monks and the Knight you punished because of the tymbestere."

De Lacy nodded.

"After your lordship went out the Knight returned and the three held conference together. I myself served them with wine and heard some of their talk--only a chance word, sir; and they were most suspicious. They spoke of ships and troops, but I could not gain the sense of it. Once they let fall the word 'Richmond' and tried to catch it back ere it were out. Then they went above to the monks' room. Your worship's room is next to it------"

"Good, I will go up," Aymer interrupted.

The landlord stopped him. "It will be too late, sir. They have gone."

"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.