Chapter 15

The King shook his head. "That might have been proper a fortnight since, but it is so no longer. Every soldier is needed with the army now, and it would require a goodly force to reduce Roxford, if you were met with a lifted bridge; though methinks you would be received most courteously--and find your quarry flown; if she was there, Flat-Nose has removed her since the adventure at Sheffield."

"Your Majesty is right," said Aymer; "I crave pardon for my ungrateful doubt."

"Nay, nay, I do not blame you. Only remember, De Lacy, that Richard the King is not Richard the man. The man sympathizes with you and trusts you; but he must be the King to do you service and aid your quest. . . Nay, do not thank me. When we have crushed Stafford and Tudor, rescued Beatrix, and you are Earl of Clare, it will be time enough for gratefulness."

XXI

BUCKINGHAM'S REVENGE

Three weeks from that day Richard Plantagenet, with his army, lay at Salisbury; the rebellion of Buckingham wholly quelled and the leaders fugitives with a price upon their heads.

The conspirators had perfected well their plans and at the same hour threw off the mask. On the morning of the eighteenth, Sir Thomas St. Leger--the King's own brother-in-law--the Marquis of Dorset, and the two Courtneys, proclaimed Henry Tudor in Exeter; Sir John Cheney raised the standard of revolt in Wiltshire; Sir William Norris and Sir William Stoner in Berkshire, and Sir John Browne, of Bletchworth, and Sir John Fogge in Kent. Buckingham with all his force marched from Brecknock and set out, by way of Weobley and through the forest of Dean, to Gloucester, there to cross the Severn. That it was his purpose to throw himself in Richard's path, and risk a battle without waiting for a juncture with his confederates, is altogether likely. Stafford was ever rash and foolish; and never more so, indeed, than in this present enterprise.

But whatever his intention may have been, it was thwarted by the visitation of a power more potent than all the hosts of the King. Nature, herself, frowned upon him and his schemes and swept them all to ruin in the rush of angry waters. The rain that began the day Sir Aymer De Lacy made his forced ride from Sheffield to Lincoln had continued with but indifferent diminution for the whole of the following week. As a result, the greatest flood the West of England ever knew poured down through the Severn and its tributaries, destroying fords and bridges, overwhelming hamlets and villages, and drowning scores upon scores of the inhabitants. In the face of this hostile manifestation of Providence, which washed out ardor and bred disaffection and something of superstitious terror, as it held them fast behind the impassable river, Buckingham's followers began to waver; then to drop away; and finally, when it became known that his very castle of Brecknock had been seized by Sir Thomas Vaughan, and that almost before he was out of sight of its towers, they forsook him forthwith, as rats a sinking ship.

All these matters came to the King by messengers from time to time; for he had paid no heed to Buckingham, but had hurried Southward, gathering his forces as he went. His strategy was to throw himself between Stafford and his confederates; cut the latter up in detail; and then hurl himself upon the Earl of Richmond at the quickest possible moment. But as the royal army advanced into the disaffected districts, the revolt faded away like fog before the sun; and without striking a blow or laying lance in rest, it marched into Salisbury. And thus it was that when the Tudor arrived off Plymouth, he found no greeting but an adverse wind and a hostile populace. So he wore ship and turned back to Brittany, making no effort to aid those who had proclaimed him at risk of life and fortune. But such was ever Henry's way.

In these days of strain and striving Sir Aymer de Lacy had few hours of leisure. He who was of the Third Richard's household must needs keep pace with a master in whose slender body was concentrated the energy of many men, and who in times of war never rested nor grew tired.

The Darby episode had been whispered through the Court; and speculation was rife as to the truth of the accusation. Nor was it set at rest when he overtook the array without the flat-nosed Simon Gorges among his retainers. The King, however, seemed to treat him as though the matter were ended; and the courtiers, noting it, were quick to trim to the royal wind.

Yet on the very night of Darby's arrival, had Richard held council with De Lacy, and secret instruction had gone forth to keep him under constant surveillance and on no account whatever to permit him to separate from the army.

"It is suspicious, this course of his," the King said; "but for the present, it will profit nothing to tax him with it. Let him think himself trusted; and perchance the doings of the next few weeks may disclose something that will clear our path of doubt and show the truth. If not, then shall this Gorges be brought before Sir John de Bury and in our presence, though we ride to Pontefract for the purpose. Meanwhile, do you avoid his lordship, and permit no brawling between his retainers and your own. Ratcliffe shall caution him, also, and most peremptorily in this particular. Later, if he be acquittanced of the crime, you may settle the quarrel as you see fit."

And while there had been sore provocations on both sides, for each went as near the line of open rupture as he dared, yet when Salisbury was reached, the command had not been disregarded; though it was very evident to the Household, and perchance to Richard, too--for he missed little that went on about him--that at the first skirmish with the rebels, a certain private feud would be worked out to a conclusion wherein but one of the participants would be left to couch lance for the King.

On this Sunday morning, De Lacy was crossing the courtyard of the Blue Boar Inn when he was attracted by a shouting and evident excitement toward the North gate of the town, and which grew rapidly nearer. Then up the street, at a quick trot, came a clump of spears followed by a mass of soldiers, camp followers and citizens on a run. All were brought up sharply by the guards, stationed a hundred yards or so beyond the royal lodgings; but after a short parley, the horsemen were permitted to pass. The device on the banneret was new to Aymer, and, knowing it belonged to none of those now with the army, and curious as to what could have attracted the rabble, he waited.

Before the inn, from which floated the royal standard, they drew up, and the leader, an elderly Knight of heavy countenance and rotund frame who carried his visor up, dismounted, and, saluting Sir Aymer de Lacy, whose handsome dress evidenced his condition and rank, demanded instant audience with the King.

"His Majesty has but lately returned from Mass," said De Lacy; "but if your business be of immediate importance, I will announce you."

The other laughed swaggeringly.

"I am Sir Thomas Mitten, Sheriff of Shropshire," he said; "and methinks my business is of most immediate importance, good sir, seeing that I bring with me the traitor, Henry Stafford."

"St. Denis! Buckingham a prisoner!" De Lacy exclaimed.

"Yonder--among my men. Think you not I shall be welcome?"

For answer, De Lacy turned on his heel, and, leaving the Sheriff to find his way to the King the best he could, strode over to the horsemen. Motioning them peremptorily aside, he extended his hand to the tall, ruddy-haired man in the stained and torn velvet.

"Believe me, Stafford," he said, "it is a sad day to me that sees you here. I hoped you had escaped."

A spasm of anger swept over the Duke's face; then he smiled and seizing De Lacy's fingers gripped them hard.

"But for treachery and ingratitude baser than Hell's deepest damned you would not see me here," he said. "And it is a brave and noble heart that beneath the Plantagenet's very eye dares show open friendship for the traitor Buckingham. God knows it is sweet after my life lately; yet be advised, De Lacy, it is dangerous to your standing and, mayhap, your liberty as well; best pass me by on the other side."

Aymer made a gesture of dissent. "The King trusts me," he said. "He will not doubt my faith."

Stafford laughed sarcastically. "Pardieu! has the Devil turned saint that Gloucester has come to trust a mortal man! At least, I shall soon see if it has changed his fierce spirit, for here is Ratcliffe to lead me to the Presence. . . Does our Cousin of England desire our company, Sir Richard? If so, we are quite ready to embrace him."

But Ratcliffe was not one to do his present duty with levity on his tongue, and he bowed with stiff formality.

"Will you come with me, my lord?" he said.

"_Au revoir_, De Lacy," smiled the Duke. "Now, to brave the Boar in his lair and see him show his tusks."

And with an air of easy indifference, this man, for whom the world had held such vast possibilities if he had but known how to attain them, went to meet his doom. For that his life was forfeited Stafford well knew; he had been taken in arms against the King and death would be his portion.

Yet the judgment came with a stern swiftness that startled the entire Court; and within the very hour that Shropshire's Sheriff entered Salisbury, was the scaffold for the execution being put in place in the courtyard of the inn.

From the window of the room in which he was confined, Buckingham idly watched the work; and as he stood there, the King and the Duke of Norfolk came forth with a few attendants and rode gayly away.

A scowl of darkest hatred distorted his face, and he shook his fist at Richard--then laughed; and the laugh grew into a sneer, that after the features were composed again still lingered about the mouth.

"It was well for the Plantagenet he did not grant the interview," he muttered; "else------" From within his doublet, he took a long silver comb, such as men used to dress their flowing hair and of which, naturally, he had not been deprived, and touching a secret spring, drew from the heavy rim a slender dagger.

"It is a pretty bit of Italian craft and methinks would have cut sure and deep," he mused. He felt the blade and tested its temper by bending it nigh double . . . "Why should I not cheat yonder scaffold and scorn the tyrant to the end?" . . . then with calm determination returned it to its sheath. "It would give them cause to dub me coward, and to say I would have weakened at the final moment. A Stafford dare not risk it."

He turned again to the window--and started forward with surprise. "Darby! By all the devils in Hell! Here, with the King. . . The false-hearted scoundrel! With him, at least, I can square off."

He struck the door sharply; it opened and Raynor Royk stepped within and saluted.

"Will you deliver a message for me?" Buckingham asked, offering him a rose-noble.

The old soldier drew back.

"I am not for sale, Sir Duke," he said. "What is the message?"

"For Sir Aymer de Lacy, my good fellow. Tell him I pray a moment's conversation on a matter of grave importance."

Without a word Royk faced about and went pounding down the passage.

Presently a light, quick step came springing up the stairway, and De Lacy entered and closed the door behind him.

"You sent for me?" he said.

"Aye, Sir Aymer, and I thank you for the coming. Tell me, when did Lord Darby join the King?"

"About a week since; though he left us at Lincoln on the seventeenth to gather his retainers."

"Bah! I might have known it!" the Duke exclaimed. "It was he, then, that betrayed our plans to Richard. God in Heaven, that I might have him by the throat!" and he clinched his hands in fury.

"Was Darby forewarned of your revolt?" De Lacy asked.

"Forewarned! Forewarned! The dog helped me arrange and mature it. He swore he hated Richard."

"Doubtless he did--and does so still, it was not he who betrayed you."

Stafford stared incredulously.

"Then how, in Satan's name, comes he here now?" he demanded.

"I can answer that better after I know his part with you--may I send for Ratcliffe?"

"As you wish," was the reply.

That the Master of Horse was surprised at the summons was very evident; and he turned to De Lacy questioningly.

"The Duke has certain information touching Lord Darby which must be confided to some one else than me," Sir Aymer explained.

Ratcliffe nodded. "Since your quarrel with Lord Darby such a course were very wise."

"I know nothing of Darby's quarrel with Sir Aymer de Lacy," said Stafford, "but I have seen him here and have learned that he joined Richard at Lincoln, the day prior to that set for the revolt, so I denounce him as a double traitor--traitor to the King, forsworn to me. It was he--he and that hawk-faced priest Morton--who, ere we left Windsor and on all the march to Gloucester, urged and persuaded me to turn against the King. He visited me at Brecknock to arrange details; was there only four days before he deserted me at Lincoln. It was he who was to lead the rising in West Yorkshire. The only reward he asked was my promise for the new King that he be permitted to marry the Countess of Clare."

"The Countess of Clare!" De Lacy exclaimed.

"Yes--she of the ruddy locks and handsome face and figure. He said they loved each other, but that Richard had laughed at their affection and their prayers and had bade her prepare to marry another. Consequently, to avoid all danger of her being forced into the nuptials before the revolt, they had arranged that she be abducted by some of his men, and then lie concealed in his castle until after Richard were deposed. And it seems they did effect their plan--at least, so he told me the last time he came to Brecknock. But methinks he is no better off now, so far as the Countess is concerned."

"Rather the worse off, I fancy," said Ratcliffe. "Two months since, with the King's approbation, the Countess of Clare became the affianced bride of Sir Aymer de Lacy; and Lord Darby's tale, as to her love for himself and Richard's treatment of them, is pure falsehood."

The Duke looked at him in sharp surprise; then shrugged his shoulders.

"Pasque Dieu! I have been an easy dupe," he said. "A child in intrigue should have picked the flaw though he were half asleep. Yet it was a pretty enough story--a loving lady, a frowning King, a false abduction. . . And all a lie."

"All but the abduction--that is true enough," said Ratcliffe.

Buckingham frowned slightly. "I do not follow you, my lord. Methought you said the Countess was betrothed to Sir Aymer."

"And so she is--yet she has been abducted, none the less, these four weeks back, and no trace of her been found. Now, however, you have furnished the clue."

"Nay, simply confirmed the one we had," exclaimed Sir Aymer de Lacy, who from sheer fury had been too choked to speak; "and I have done with waiting--already two weeks have been wasted. If the King want me let him send to Roxford Castle."--His hand was on the door when Ratcliffe seized his arm.

"Compose yourself, De Lacy," he said kindly yet sternly. "Have you learned Richard so little as to think that even we of the Ring dare disobey him?"

"Nor forget, Sir Aymer," added the Duke quickly, "it will be my word against Lord Darby's; and I am a condemned traitor. . . Yet, stay a moment, there is one other knows it. The Abbot of Kirkstall Abbey was in Darby's secret and engaged to aid his scheme."

De Lacy, who was handling his drawn dagger, suddenly sent it deep into the table beside him.

"We seem to have been a pair of fools, Stafford!" he exclaimed. "The very morning after the Countess disappeared I found those two villains together at the Abbey yet suspected them not at all." He drew out the dagger, then plunged it in again. "Well, so be it. I shall wait until the King has heard your story. Then I go North--with his permission, if may be; without it if I must."

"It will be a triple pleasure," said the Duke, "to revenge myself on Darby and do some service to the Countess and to you."

"With your permission, my lord," Ratcliffe observed, "Kendale will take down your statement and you may sign it. . . His Majesty will not return till vespers."

The Duke laughed shortly. "Ere which time I shall be sped, you mean. Well, summon Kendale, and that promptly, for methinks yon scaffold is about ready for its office."

Word for word the King's secretary reduced the narrative.

"Read it," the Duke commanded when it was done. . . "Is that sufficiently definite and accurate? . . . Then let me sign it."

With a labored flourish he attached his name and sealed it with his ring. Ratcliffe and Kendale duly attested it; and sealing it again over the outside edge he handed it to De Lacy:

"When Darby stands against you," he said, "strike one blow for the dead Buckingham. . . Nay, man, take it not so to heart; it is a hazard we all must play some time. And who knows, forsooth, but that in the cast I win a fairer land than this I leave behind?"

"Aye, perchance it is we who lose," said Ratcliffe thoughtfully.

"God grant it be so," De Lacy added.

"Amen!" the Duke rejoined. "For then some day you, too, shall win."

From below came the measured tramp of men; and though the window was closed, the murmurings and mutterings of the crowd grow noticeably louder. The pounding of hammers had ceased and in its place were the gruff commands as the soldiers forced the rabble back from the scaffold; followed presently by the ring of grounded halberds.

The Duke of Buckingham walked to the window and opening the casement looked for a moment into the courtyard. Then as the tread of the guard sounded on the stairs, he turned away and, shaking the dust from his cloak, flung it about his shoulders.

"Lead on, my man, I am ready," he said indifferently, as Raynor Royk, death warrant in hand, stepped within. "No need to read it; I know its message. . . Will you bear me company, good sirs?" he asked rather as one who invites than requests. "I promise I shall not detain you long."

For answer, both Ratcliffe and De Lacy sprang forward and offered him their arms. The Duke shook his head.

"You are most fair and courteous, but I must walk alone--to be supported would give ground for evil tongues to slur upon my courage. Your simple presence will be sustenance enough."

As the procession of death came out into the courtyard, the crowd that swayed and surged behind the men-at-arms, went quiet . . . a murmur gathered, that swelled louder and still louder, until the proud figure of Buckingham stepped upon the scaffold--then it ceased abruptly, and a heavy stillness came. And beside the block, in black shirt and hose and leaning on the long shaft of the huge axe, stood the masked headsman, motionless and grim.

For a space Stafford glanced carelessly over the crowd; then lifted his eyes toward the blue above him, as though fain to see the bourne whither he was bound. And standing so, suddenly a smile of rarest beauty broke upon his face, as if, in truth, a flash of immortal vision had been vouchsafed of the Land beyond the sky.

Even the stern, prosaic Ratcliffe saw it thus; and in awed tones whispered to De Lacy, "He has had that sight of Heaven which is said comes sometimes to those about to die."

And the Duke, his vision passed, yet with the air of one who has received the promise of content, turned to the Bishop of Bath and dropping on one knee bared his head and bent it for the extreme absolution. At the end, he took Ratcliffe and De Lacy by the hand.

"You have been friends at a trying time," he said, "and I thank you from the heart." . . . He drew a chain of gold from within his doublet: "Here, Sir Aymer de Lacy, is my George; do you return it to the King--it may suggest to him that you should take my place."

"You are very thoughtful, my lord," De Lacy answered brokenly.

"And I am enjoined by the King," said Ratcliffe, "to assure you that your domains shall not be forfeited or your Line attainted."

The Duke looked at the Master of Horse steadily for a moment.

"Verily, Richard is a mystery," he said. "Is he then greedy of naught save power, that he passes thus my lands and castles?"

"Methinks there are many who misjudge him," Ratcliffe answered.

"Perchance! Yet my judgment is of small import now. Nathless, I thank him for his clemency and consideration toward my wife and son. And touching my body, I trust it may be decently interred."

"It will be laid beside your ancestors; and with every ceremony your family may desire."

"Truly, this death is not so hard," Stafford said, with a bit of a laugh. "You have just robbed it of its only terrors. Farewell, my friends, farewell!"--And again he took their hands.

Turning to the headsman, who had stood motionless the while, he ran his eyes over the stalwart figure.

"Have you been long at the trade, fellow?" he asked.

"These two and twenty years," came from behind the mask, though the man moved not at all.

"Then you should have learned to strike straight."

"Never but once did I miss my aim," was the grim reply.

"Well, make not, I pray you, a second miss with me."

Calmly as though preparing for his couch and a night's repose, he unlaced his doublet and took it off; and laying back his placard, nodded to the executioner.

The sombre figure came suddenly to life, and drawing from his girdle a pair of heavy shears he swiftly cropped the Duke's long hair where it hung below the neck--then stepped back and waited.

"Are you ready?" Buckingham asked.

The man nodded and resumed his axe.

With a smile on his lips and with all the proud dignity of his great House, Stafford walked to the block and laid his head upon it.

"Strike!" he said sharply.

The executioner swung the axe aloft and brought it slowly down, staying it just ere the edge touched the flesh. There, for an instant, he held it, measuring his distance, while the sunlight flashed along its polished face. Suddenly it rose again, and sweeping in a wide circle of shimmering steel fell with the speed of a thunder-bolt.

And at that very instant, from the camp beyond the town, came the music of the trumpets sounding the fanfare of the King.

XXII

THE KNIGHT AND THE ABBOT

When the King returned, Sir John Kendale with Sir Aymer de Lacy hastened to place in his hands the letter containing Buckingham's statement, at the same time detailing the circumstances under which it was made.

Richard read it very carefully, and handed it back to Kendale.

"So!" he said. "Out of the revolt comes the solution of the mystery, even as I thought. Now, De Lacy, you see it was wise not to arrest Darby at Lincoln."

"Aye, Sire, you were right--and I fancy it is no wiser to arrest him now."

"Not unless you would have the Countess hurried to a fresh prison--or perchance put away altogether--ere you could hope to reach her. For be assured, Darby has provided that instant information be forwarded if he be seized."

"Then all I ask is permission to return forthwith to Yorkshire," said De Lacy.

"It is granted," the King replied instantly. "Take with you a few men-at-arms and Raynor Royk; he knows the country as a priest his prayers. As many more as you may need draw from Pontefract or any of our castles--the Ring will be your warrant. Depart quietly and it can be given out that you are on our special service. Meanwhile Darby shall be as much a prisoner as though he were already in the Tower. We march for Exeter to-morrow; and after things grow quiet thereabouts, and a head or two more has fallen, we shall fare back to London. There I trust you will bring, ere long, the Lady of Clare."