“It is the misfortune of a red-haired, flat-nosed servant, my lord,” said Richard; “best give him his quittance and a new master.  Meanwhile, be not so downcast.—­I accept your explanation.”

Lord Darby dropped upon his knee, and now the King gave him his hand.

“We will put your gratitude and allegiance to the proof,” he said, fixing Darby’s eyes with his own and holding them.  “The Duke of Buckingham and the Tudor Henry rise in rebellion seven days hence.  We need an army within that time.  Go, collect your retainers, and join me without an hour’s delay.”

“Your Majesty is very gracious to make but my liege service the earnest of my faith and word.  I ride for Roxford this instant,” and with a graceful salute to the King, and a sneering smile at De Lacy he left the apartment.

Richard’s quick change—­after his searching questions and stern front—­in suddenly accepting Darby’s assertion of innocence and dismissing him with honor, came to De Lacy like a blow in the face.  Had he been within reach when Darby flaunted him, not even the royal presence would have held his arm.  As it was, with a stiff bow he was withdrawing, when Richard laughed.

“Are you displeased, Sir Aymer?” he said kindly.

“It is not for me to question the conduct of the King,” De Lacy answered respectfully.

“You are surprised, then?”

“Marry, yes!  Sire; that I am.”

“Only because you have never had to study men to use them.  It is not Richard Plantagenet’s wont to discuss his decisions with another; yet in this instance, because you are led by no whit of selfishness but solely by love for your betrothed, I will make exception.  Surely, you saw there was no evidence sufficient to condemn Darby.  If you had ever seen this Flat-Nose it would have been another matter.  But resemblances are not conclusive; and in the face of his explanation and absolute denial, the case against him fell for want of proof.  Mark me, I do not say that he is innocent; and when the struggle with Buckingham is over we will go deeper into this mystery.”

“Then Your Majesty has not sacrificed the Countess of Clare for Lord Darby’s retainers?” De Lacy asked pointedly.

Richard smiled good naturedly.

“It is a just question, Sir Aymer,” he said; “yet be assured I have no thought to sacrifice Beatrix.  At this exigency, I have not an instant to devote to aught but this insurrection.  I do not fear Darby—­though he would desert to the rebels without hesitation if he thought it would advantage him—­but Stanley’s course will be his also—­it will prove to him there is no hope for the Tudor.  Furthermore, assuming that this Gorges is Flat-Nose, he has warned those in charge of the Countess—­if, as God grant, she be alive—­and to imprison or to kill Darby would be simply to hang more awful peril over her, and aid not a jot the finding of her prison.  As it is, Darby must bring this Simon Gorges with