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 circ.u.mstances 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 a.s.sured, 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."

An hour later Sir Aymer De Lacy and Giles Dauvrey, with Raynor Royk and four st.u.r.dy men-at-arms, rode out of Salisbury and headed Westward.

But after a league or so they turned abruptly to the right and circling around gained the main road to the North at a safe distance from the town and bore away toward Yorkshire.

Had De Lacy responded to the eagerness in his heart he would have raced all the way, nor drawn rein save to take refreshment. But no horse nor pair of horses ever foaled could go the length of England at a gallop, and there were none worth the having to be obtained along the way: the army had swept the country clean of them as it marched Southward. And so the pace was grave and easy; and though Aymer fretted and fumed and grew more impatient as the end drew nearer, yet he never thought to hasten their speed; knowing that by going slowly they were, in fact, going fast. But at length, and in due season, the huge towers of Pontefract frowned against the sky line; and presently at the name of De Lacy, the drawbridge fell and they crossed into the courtyard.

In the small room, where first he saw the Duke of Gloucester, De Lacy found Sir John de Bury. The old Knight was slow to rally from his wound; and being scarcely convalescent when Richard drew in his forces, he had been left in command of Pontefract in place of Sir Robert Wallingford, who went with the King. But lately his strength was coming back to him with swift pulsations and he was growing irritably impatient of his forced inactivity and of the obligation of office which held him stagnant while his sovereign rode to the wars. For as yet, no news had reached this distant section of the actual happenings in the South and the bloodless collapse of the rebellion.

"Holy St. Luke! has Richard been defeated!" De Bury exclaimed, springing to his feet.

"Buckingham is dead and Tudor back in Brittany," Aymer answered.

"Parbleu! Stafford dead!"

"Aye--on the block at Salisbury on All-Souls-Day."

"On the block? . . . Poor fool! . . . Poor fool! . . . Come, tell me about it. But first, what brings you hither now?"

"The Countess of Clare."

"Beatrix! You have found her?" De Bury cried.

"No--not her; but her abductor."

"And he is hereabouts?"

De Lacy shook his head. "He is with the army."

"Then in G.o.d's Name, why are you at Pontefract?"

"Easy, Sir John, easy," Aymer answered, his hand on the other's shoulder. "Do you think I would be in Yorkshire if Beatrix were not there, also?"--and forthwith he plunged into a narrative of the events from his encounter with Darby at Sheffield to the death of Buckingham.

"A pretty scheme of Darby's, truly," Sir John commented; "and the dog has played it well. He has nerve uncommon so to brave the royal Richard in his very Court. It is well for you there was no battle, or onfall even, else would you have got an arrow or a sword thrust from behind. . . Now as to Beatrix; is she at Roxford?"

"There or at Kirkstall Abbey."

"True enough; and a most likely place to conceal her the instant Darby was suspected."

De Lacy took a quick turn up and down the room. "G.o.d in Heaven, Sir John! has Beatrix come through this without injury or insult?"

"What! What! Injury or insult! They would not dare------?" De Bury cried pa.s.sionately.

"They have dared to seize and hold her prisoner--would they would dare no more."

The old Knight sank back into his chair and covered his face with his hands. . . "The heiress of the Clares--the favorite of the Queen. . .

They would not dare.--Yet if they have------"

"Beatrix will be dead," said De Lacy, "and naught left for me but vengeance."

"Aye! she was ever a brave la.s.s and would kill herself without a whit of hesitation. Nathless, the rescue or the vengeance is for me, also--I ride with you to-morrow?"