Part 21 (1/2)

”Believe me, my lady, I have no quarrel with your De Lacy,” he said; ”I, too, like him well. But I envy him his champion. Marry, how you rapped me with voice and eye. I wonder, would you do the same for me?”

”Yes, for you . . . and the Lady Mary.”

”And why the Lady Mary?” he asked, after a pause.

”If you do not know, then there is no 'why,'” said she, facing about and looking up stream. ”However, she is coming and, perchance, can answer for herself. Shall I ask her . . . or will you?”

The touching of the boat just inside the St. Thomas Gate saved him an answer. Giving the Countess his hand he aided her to alight, and almost immediately De Lacy's barge ran in; and, he and Lady Mary disembarking, the four sauntered across the vast courtyard toward the royal lodge.

As they turned into one of the shaded walks the Earl of Ware, who chanced to be a pace in advance, suddenly halted and drew aside, his bonnet doffed, his att.i.tude deeply respectful.

”The King!” exclaimed De Lacy, and they all fell back.

A slender, fair-haired boy was coming slowly down the path, one hand on the neck of a huge mastiff, whose great head was almost on a level with his shoulder. His dress was rich, but very simple--black velvet and silk from head to foot, save the jeweled dagger at his hip and the blue ribbon of the Garter about his knee. His bearing was wondrous easy, and there was a calm dignity about him most unusual in one so young.

It may have been the innate consciousness of his exalted rank that raised the thirteen-year-old boy to the man, and made his majesty sit so naturally upon him; or it may have been that the resemblance he bore to his imperious father carried with it also that father's haughty spirit; but, whatever it was, there could be no mistaking that Edward the Fifth was a true heir of the Plantagenets, the proudest and bravest family that ever sat a throne.

He was unattended, save by the dog, and as he pa.s.sed he smiled a courteous greeting.

”G.o.d save Your Majesty!” said the two Knights, bowing with bent knee, while the Countess and Lady Mary curtsied low.

He turned slightly and smiled at them again, then proceeded on his way, as unruffled as a man of thrice his age.

”A brave youth,” said Sir Aymer de Lacy, gazing after him.

”Aye,” the Earl answered, ”brave in person and in promise--yet p.r.o.ne to melancholy, it is said; a queer trait in a child.”

”Inherited?” De Lacy asked.

Ware shrugged his shoulders. ”Doubtless--almost anything could come through Jacquetta of Luxembourg.”

Meanwhile the Countess and Lady Mary had gone on together, leaving their escorts to follow, and presently they turned toward the wharf.

”What say you,” the Earl asked as they neared the gate, ”what say you to--an exchange of companions?”

”I am willing,” De Lacy answered instantly, thinking of Lady Mary's words, ”and so is------” then he stopped; that was not for him to tell Ware, and doubtless she had been only jesting. ”Suppose you suggest it to the Lady Mary,” he ended.

The Earl gave him an amused smile. ”Suppose you suggest it to the Countess.”

Then both laughed.

Ware rubbed his chin thoughtfully. ”We might suggest it to them both together,” he said.

”How, for instance?”

”Why . . . just intimate casually that . . . that . . . that . . . we would . . . you know.”

”No,” said Aymer, ”I do not.”