Part 32 (1/2)
”Are your eyes failing?” he asked. ”It is De Lacy--he is on duty to-night.”
”Did you know he was there?”
”Most a.s.suredly, my lord.”
Stanley stared at the King in amazed silence, and despite his careful dissimulation the indignation blazed in his eyes.
”If Your Majesty deem it wise to discuss such matters before a simple attendant,” he said, ”it is not for me to criticise . . . yet, methinks, if it be not risky, it is at least unusual.”
”Never fear, Lord Steward; I will answer for my Body-Knight,” Richard responded.
During the colloquy, De Lacy had been leaning on the window edge, watching idly the courtyard below, but paying strict attention to all that was said behind him. Now he came forward and bent knee to Richard.
”My King's confidence,” he said, ”makes contemptible the insinuations of the fickle Stanley.”
”How now, Sir------” Stanley began angrily; but Richard silenced him with an imperious gesture.
”Hold, my Lord Steward,” he said sternly, ”no words betwixt you two. And hark you both, no renewal of this hereafter. You are each acquittanced of the other now.”
De Lacy drew himself up stiffly and saluted.
”The King commands,” he said.
”And you, my lord?” asked Richard, eyeing Stanley.
”Pardieu! Sire, I have no quarrel with Sir Aymer,” he answered, and affably extended his hand.
Just then there came loud voices from the outer room, followed immediately by the entrance of the page.
”May it please Your Majesty,” the boy said, as the King's curt nod gave him leave to speak, ”Sir Robert Brackenbury craves instant audience on business of state.”
”Admit him!”
The next moment the old Knight strode into the room, spurs jangling and boots and doublet soiled by travel.
”Welcome, Robert,” said Richard, giving him his hand. ”What brings you in such haste?”
”Matters which are for your ears alone, Sire,” said the Constable of the Tower, with the abruptness of a favored counsellor.
The King walked to a distant window.
”Might the two-faced Lord Steward hear us?” Brackenbury asked.
”No danger, speak--what is amiss in London?”
”Enough and to spare. Edward's sons are dead.”
Even Richard's wonderful self-control was unequal to such news, and he started back.
”Holy Paul!” he exclaimed, under his breath; then stood with bent head. . . ”How happened it?”
”No one knows, certainly. As you expressly ordered, either the lieutenant or myself regularly locked their apartments at sundown and opened them at dawn. Two nights since I, myself, turned key upon them.