Part 21 (2/2)
Ware pondered a s.p.a.ce. ”We might put them in the wrong boats--by accident, of course.”
”And have them get out the instant we get in.”
”Then it pa.s.ses me,” said the Earl. ”I have supplied the idea; it is for you to execute it.”
De Lacy shook his head. ”It is too deep for me; had I a week I might contrive a plan.”
”I presume we will go back as we came,” the other commented. ”Marry, what a brave pair we are!”
As they reached the landing, their barges, that lay a little way down stream, swung around and came quickly up to the gate. The Earl's entered first, and as he was about to proffer his hand to the Countess to aid her to embark, the Lady Mary stepped quickly into the boat, and giving him a smile of bewitching invitation sank languidly among the cus.h.i.+ons. For an instant he was taken aback; but, with a sharp glance at De Lacy, he sprang aboard, and the oars caught the water.
The Countess watched them as they sped through the gate and away, then turned to De Lacy with a roguish look and eyes half veiled.
”It seems, Sir Aymer, it is for you to take me back to the Hall,” she said.
XI
ON CHAPEL GREEN
On the following morning Sir Aymer de Lacy again sought the Tower; but this time he went alone. The hour was early, yet the place was full of life; there was to be a state council at nine, and the n.o.bility were a.s.sembling to greet the Lord Protector when he should arrive. For although the young King occupied the royal apartments and was supposed to hold the Court therein, yet, in fact, the real Court was at Crosby Hall, where the Duke resided and whither all those that sought favor or position were, for the nonce, obliged to bend their steps.
Indeed, at this time, Richard was, in all but name, the King of England; and on this very day, ere the hour of noon had pa.s.sed, was the name also to turn toward him, and through the first blood shed by his new ambition was he to progress to the foot of the throne, the steps of which were to prove so easy to his feet.
Just in front of the Wakefield Tower De Lacy came upon Sir Robert Brackenbury, now Constable of the Fortress, and paused for a word with him. Then sauntering slowly toward the Chapel, he took possession of a bench from which he could observe those who crossed the courtyard between the St. Thomas Gate and the White Tower. A moment later, Sir Ralph de Wilton came swinging along the walk and De Lacy hailed him.
”Tarry with me till the Council has gathered,” he said. ”Here come their reverences of York and Ely.”
Scarcely had the churchmen entered the White Tower, when along the same path came two others, bound also for the council chamber.
The one on the right, the Garter about his knee, with the keen, grey eyes, sharp, clear, Norman features, and well-knit, active frame, was William, Lord Hastings; gallant knight, brave warrior, wise counsellor and chosen friend of the mighty Edward. His long gown and doublet were of brilliant green velvet, with silk trunks and hose to match; his bushy brown hair was perfumed and dressed with exquisite care; from his bonnet of black velvet trailed a long white ostrich plume pinned by three huge rubies; at the richly chased gold belt dangled a dagger, the scabbard and hilt glistening with jewels, and his fingers flashed with many rings. It was the typical costume of a courtier of the Plantagenets--fops in dress and devils in battle.
His companion was utterly dissimilar. His garments were of sober black, without ornament or decoration, and no ring shone on his fingers. His sandy hair was cut rather shorter than was wont, and there was no mark of helmet wear along the brow or temples. His frame was neither active nor powerful, and his walk was sedate, almost to preciseness. His countenance was peculiar, for in it there was both cunning and frankness: cunning in the eyes, frankness in the mouth and chin; a face, withal, that would bear constant watching, and that contained scarce a trace of virility--only a keen selfishness and a crafty faithlessness. And of a verity, if ever a human visage revealed truly the soul within, this one did; for a more scheming sycophant, vacillating knave and despicable traitor than Thomas, Lord Stanley, England had not seen since the villain John died at Newark.
”A powerful pair,” said De Wilton, ”yet a strange companions.h.i.+p--one rather of accident than design, I fancy. There is little in either to attract the other, nor is it any secret that the Lord Chamberlain does not love the fickle Stanley.”
”No more does Stanley love him, nor any living creature, for the matter of that,” said Sir Aymer. ”It pa.s.ses me why the Lord Protector trusts him.”
”Pardieu!” exclaimed De Wilton, ”the Duke may use him; he will never trust him. He knows the truckler of old--the first to greet Warwick when he came to lead Henry from the Tower; the loudest for Edward when Barnet's day was done.”
”Well, mark me,” said De Lacy, with lowered voice, ”yonder false lord will be a troublesome counsellor, even if he be not a faithless baron.
I would have none of him.”
”_Bon jour, mes amis_!” Hastings called out in hearty greeting. ”Has the Protector arrived?”
”No, my lord,” returned De Wilton, as he and De Lacy arose; ”he was engaged, and may be a trifle late for the council.”
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