"Yorkshire!" said De Lacy . . . "Any news?" he demanded, as they swept by.

"None, my lord."

At the first cross-road two hors.e.m.e.n barred the way. Aymer paused to question them, but learning nothing, the pace was resumed. Another mile was pa.s.sed, and they had tarried a moment to breathe and water the horses at a rivulet that gurgled across the road, when Selim suddenly threw up his head.

"Some one comes!" said De Lacy . . . "it is news . . . he rides furiously; he must be stopped."

They drew out into the middle of the track and waited. Presently a running horse shot into view ahead, and the rider, seeing the two in front, shouted the royal messenger's call: "Way! In the King's name!

Way!"

"Stay, Allen," Giles Dauvrey cried, recognizing him. "What word?"

"Sir John has been found," the man answered, drawing up short.

"Dead?" Aymer demanded.

"No, my lord, not yet."

"And the Countess of Clare?"

"Gone, my lord; no trace."

"G.o.d in Heaven! . . . Where Is Sir John?"

"Half a league further on."

"Tell the King I have gone thither," Aymer called over his shoulder as he raced away.

In a patch of moonlight, fifty feet or so in from the road, lay Sir John de Bury, his eyes closed, his face upturned, motionless--to all appearances a corpse. De Lacy sprang down and knelt beside him.

"He is not dead, my lord," said a soldier.

Aymer laid back the doublet and shirt, wet and heavy with blood that had come from a deep wound in the right breast, and was still oozing slowly. The heart was beating, but very faintly, and forcing the set jaws apart with his dagger, he poured a measure of cordial down Sir John's throat.

"May it please you, sir," said one of the men, "we have arranged a litter of boughs, and if you think it good we will bear him back to the castle."

"It can do him no harm," De Lacy answered. . . "How say you, Giles?"

"With even step it will not hurt him," the squire replied.

Lifting the old Knight carefully they placed him on the litter and Aymer wrapped his own cloak around him, then nodded to the soldiers to proceed.

"Go slowly," he ordered, "a jolt may end his life. Watch his heart closely; if it grow weaker, use the cordial," and he handed them the flask.

"The fight was not at this place," said Dauvrey after a moment's examination of the ground; "there are no mingling hoof marks. De Bury likely fell from the saddle here and the horse kept on to the castle; his tracks point thither."

"Let us follow the back track," De Lacy exclaimed.

For a score of paces it led them, slowly and laboriously, into the dark forest, and then vanished, and though they searched in all directions, no further trace was found. It was a fruitless quest; and at length the squire persuaded his master to abandon it and await the coming of the dawn.

Reluctantly De Lacy remounted and they rode slowly back to Pontefract.

The soldiers bearing Sir John de Bury had reached there some time before, and he lay on the couch in his own room. There was no material change in his condition, though under the candle-light there was less of the ghastly pallor of death in the face; and about the ears were evidences that the blood was beginning to circulate more strongly. The King's own physician, Antonio Carcea--an Italian--sat beside him with his hand on the pulse and, ever and anon, bent to listen to the respiration.

At Be Lacy's entrance he glanced up with a frown which faded when he saw who it was.

"He will live, Signor," he said in Italian. "He has not yet come to consciousness, but it is only a matter of a little while."

"Will he speak by daybreak?" De Lacy asked.

"Most likely, Signor."

"Summon me on the instant, and may the Good G.o.d aid you."

Going to his quarters and waving Dauvrey aside when he would have relieved him of his doublet, Aymer threw himself upon the bed. He had ridden far that day, and with the coming of the sun would begin what promised to be a labor long and arduous. He could not sleep--and his closed eyes but made the fancies of his brain more active and the visions of his love, abducted and in hideous peril, more real and agonizing. Yet to serve her he must needs be strong and so he tried to compose himself and rest his body. There was scanty time until morning; but an hour of quiet now might breed a day of vigor in the future.

Presently there came a sharp knock and Ratcliffe entered.

"Lie still," he said, as De Lacy would have risen. "I know you found no trace of the Countess else you would not be here. Yet, perchance, Sir John may speak or some of the scouts return with a clue. If not, the sunlight, doubtless, will reveal what the night has hidden. The King has retired, but he bade me say to you not to depart without word with him. Meanwhile if any of the scouts come in they are to report to you."

Slowly the minutes dragged themselves out. The shadows lengthened more and more as the moon went to its rest behind the distant Craven hills.

Then of a sudden, light and shadow mingled and all was dark. Presently a c.o.c.k crowed; and the sound seemed loud as a roar of a bombard. Again the c.o.c.k crowed, and from the retainers' houses another and another answered, until the shrill cry ran along the outer bailey and across the wall and on down the hill to the village, growing fainter and fainter until, at the last, it was like a far distant echo, more memory than reality.

De Lacy turned his head toward the window, hoping for some sign of day, but the East was black. With an impatient sigh he lay back. Was ever man so sorely tried--so cruelly used--so choked by horrors of the probable! Then came a troubled slumber--a tossing and a waking--that was ended by a quick step in the corridor, and with a bound he reached the door and flung it open.

"Sir John------" the page began, but got no farther--De Lacy was gone.

Sir John de Bury lay as when Aymer left him, but the color was coming back to his face and his eyes were open, and he smiled very faintly in greeting.

"He may speak?" De Lacy asked.

"A few words, Signor," the Italian answered.

Just then the King entered hastily, a long gown about him. Sir John tried to raise his hand in salute, but Richard quickly caught the weak fingers.

"Nay, nay, my friend," he said; "another time for that." . . . Then to Carcea: "Has he spoken?"

"Not yet, Sire; and if it please Your Majesty, it would be well to ask the questions so that they can be answered by a motion of the head.

The patient's strength will permit few words."

"Do you understand, John?" Richard asked.

De Bury smiled faintly and indicated that he did.

"Were you attacked?" the King went on.

"Yes," said the nod.

"By highwaymen?"