“Like enough,” De Lacy answered.  “They would only need to know that I was back in Yorkshire; and that, doubtless, reached them quick enough.  There is no hope to catch them with drawbridge down,” and they went on to their following.

“You know the castle, Sir John; what is the best point to attack?” Aymer asked.

The old Knight shook his head.  “There is no weak spot, so far as I have recollection.”

“Where is the postern?  I did not note it.”

“No postern will you find in yonder walls,” De Bury answered.  “A secret exit runs beneath the moat known only to the ruling lord himself.”

“Another Kirkstall!” commented Aymer.

“Aye—­yet as Darby is not within, there will be no escape by it.”

With banners to the fore, they marched across the open space to the barbican and the herald blew the parley.

No answer came from the outwork.  Riding closer, De Lacy discovered it was without defenders, and passing through he halted on the edge of the causeway.

“Sound again!” he commanded—­and this time with quick effect.

A trumpet answered hoarsely from within and a mailed form arose from behind the crenellated parapet near the gate.

“Who summons so peremptorily the Castle of the Lords of Darby?” it asked.

Sir John’s herald blew another blast.

“It is a most ignorant warder that does not recognize the arms of Sir John de Bury and Sir Aymer de Lacy,” he answered.

“What seek Sir John de Bury and Sir Aymer de Lacy at the Castle of Roxford?” was the demand.

De Lacy waved the herald aside.  “We seek the Countess of Clare who, we have reason to believe, is held in durance here.  In the name of the King, we require you to surrender her forthwith.”

“And if she be not here?”

“Then after due search, we will leave you undisturbed,” the Knight replied.

The other laughed tauntingly.

“You must needs have wings, fair sirs, to gain entrance here;” and with a scornful gesture he disappeared below the parapet, and the blast of a trumpet signified that the truce was ended.

De Lacy closed his visor, and for a time surveyed the fortress with careful eye.  Before him lay a moat full sixty feet across and two thirds full of water, with no means of passage save the drawbridge, that hung so high on its chains as to seem almost against the outer portcullis.  From the farther edge the wall rose solid and grim, and, as he knew from Sir John, with no opening in all its circuit save the gate directly opposite.

“It is evident the garrison is very small,” De Bury observed, “else they would not have abandoned the barbican without a blow.”

“Undoubtedly; and if we can reach the gate or scale the wall the rest is easy.”

“I would we had a bombard or two that are lying idle in the armory at Pontefract.”

“They will not be needed,” De Lacy answered.  “We shall sleep in the castle to-night.”