roads without a rest, so he left him for Dauvrey to bring; depending upon being able to requisition fresh mounts from the royal post that had been established lately along this highway.  Nor was he disappointed.  The Boar and his own name, for he was known now throughout England as one high in the Household, got him quick service and hearty attention, and he made the best speed possible under the circumstances; though it was often poor enough to cause him to grit his teeth in helpless despair and anxiety.  League after league was done no faster than a walk; the horse, at every step, sinking into the mud far above fetlock, and coming to the relief station completely exhausted.  And all the day the rain poured down without cessation, and the roads grew heavier and more impassable until they were little else than running streams of dirty water pierced, here and there, by the crest of a hill that poked its head out like a submerged mountain.

But through it all, with head bent low on his breast, and bonnet pulled far down over his eyes, De Lacy forged ahead, tarrying only long enough at the stations to change mounts.

At mid-day half the distance had been covered, and as evening drew near they crossed the Trent and, presently, were out of Yorkshire.  Then as night closed about them, the lights of Lincoln glimmered faint in the fore, and shaking up the tired horses they hastened on.  And at last the castle was reached; the guards at the outer gate, recognizing the King’s Body-Knight, saluted and fell back; and with a sigh of relief, De Lacy swung down from his saddle, the long ride over at last.

Just within the corridor he came upon Sir Ralph de Wilton, who started forward in surprise: 

“By all the Saints!  De Lacy! . . .  But are you drowned or in the flesh?”

“Both, methinks.  Where are my quarters—­or have none been assigned me?”

“Your room is next mine.  Come, I will show the way; for by my faith, you need a change of raiment; you are mud and water from bonnet to spur.  What in the Devil’s name sent you traveling on such a night?”

“The King’s business, Ralph; ask me no more at present. . .  His Majesty is in the castle?”

“Aye! and in the best of fettle,” De Wilton answered good-naturedly.  “Here are your quarters; and that they are saved for you shows your position in the Court.  The place is crowded to the roof.”

“I fancy I can thank you rather than my position—­at any rate, Ralph, squire me out of these clothes; they cling like Satan’s chains.”

“I would I could cast those same chains off as easily,” De Wilton replied, as he unlaced the rain-soaked doublet and flung it on the couch.  “Tell me, Aymer, did you find aught of . . . of her?”

“No and yes,” De Lacy answered, after a silence, “I did not find the Countess nor any trace of her, but I saw Flat-Nose.”

“The Devil! . . .  And took him?”