"From the Countess of Northumberland."

"And whence comes her knowledge?"

"If you were not new to England you would not ask," said she. "Henry Tudor was for years a prisoner of state in her father's castle of Pembroke. She knows him from daily companionship and should be competent to judge. Indeed, as the Lady Maude Herbert, it is said she was betrothed to him."

"Why did she marry Percy?"

"That, I can only guess. Her father fell at Edgecote; there were six other sisters . . . and the great Earl came a-wooing. Besides, Richmond was in exile, had lost his patrimony and a price was on his head."

"And she never loved him?" De Lacy asked.

"Nay, that I do not know; but she was very young, and if she did it was not likely a lasting pa.s.sion. She seems happy enough as chatelaine of Topcliffe."

"Doubtless--yet, nevertheless, there is another woman in England than Stanley's Countess who may be dangerous to Richard if Henry Tudor ever seek an issue with him."

"You mean the Countess of Northumberland?"

"Aye. Percy wields huge power. He and the Stanleys together could well-nigh topple the throne. Lord Stanley no man trusts--and it was a Percy whose treason sent the Second Richard to his doom."

"Richard of Bordeaux was not Richard of Gloucester," she argued.

"In truth, no, but the conditions then were far more favorable to the King. Believe me, wore I the Crown, these two women would give me more concern than all the n.o.bles in my kingdom."

"What would you do if you _were_ King?" she asked, smiling.

De Lacy held up his hands. "Do! When I cannot control even one woman, I would make a merry mess with two and a kingdom besides."

Just then a horn spoke merrily from the courtyard and De Lacy sprang up.

"Richard is for a ride in Windsor forest and I must away," he said. "I would that you went, too."

"We do go," she said. "Let us haste or I shall be late to horse."

"May I ride with you?" he asked.

She nodded. "For a little way."

"Why not all the way?" he persisted.

"Because the King would object"--it was the flash of tenderness now.

"Nay, he would be quite satisfied," De Lacy answered unthinkingly.

She stopped short.

"Indeed!" she exclaimed frigidly; "well, I would not;" and turning abruptly, she entered a private pa.s.sage and disappeared.

"Now the Devil take my foolish tongue," Aymer muttered, as the door clanged behind her. . . Then the horn rang out again, and in vast disgust and anger he hurried to his room and into riding dress.

But his haste made him awkward and he lost precious moments; and when at length he rushed down the stairs and into the courtyard it was to see Lord Darby swing the Countess of Clare into saddle and dash off beside her.

De Lacy swore such a string of good round French oaths that the silent Giles Dauvrey was so startled from his wonted equanimity that for the moment he forgot to mount and follow, but stood watching his master in serious wonder, as Selim raced toward the gate.

However, anger would not mend the matter and good humor might, so he put on a smiling front. And when he presently neared the Countess and Lord Darby he reined close beside her and cantered by with bonnet doffed.

"I shall claim your promise presently," he said, his eyes seeking her face--though he doubted much if she would give it to him.

But her humor had veered again, and she answered with such a bewitching smile he was utterly bewildered, and for a time Selim went whither and how he listed.

"May I ask what is the promise?" said Lord Darby.

The Countess raised her eyebrows in annoyed surprise.

"I promised to ride with him this morning."

"The promise is cancelled now."

"And why, my lord?"

"He was a sluggard at the start."

She bent forward and put aright a bit of Wilda's mane.

"Nay, sir, why should you wish him punished," said she lightly, "since it gives you a little of my society?"

He leaned suddenly over and laid his hand upon her arm.

"Will you not give it to me until the end of life?" he asked earnestly.

She gazed at him a moment in startled surprise--then laughed merrily.

"You said that with delightful promptness, my lord," she exclaimed.

"Practice makes one proficient, surely."

A cold light settled in Darby's eyes, and he straightened in the saddle and faced to the front.

"If a man be a gallant once, need that condemn his words to disbelief forever?" he asked. . . "May not even the most confirmed trifler have, some time, an honest pa.s.sion?"

"Doubtless, yes," she said, with a shrug of the shapely shoulders. . .

"Only . . ."

"Only . . . only what?"

"Only that it is very rare and its proof requires strong demonstration and long service."

"And I am ready to do both," he said eagerly.

"Then, one day, my lord, you will bring great joy to some loving heart," she replied, looking him calmly in the eyes.