“He is your prisoner, sweetheart, and we will have him here,” said Aymer.  “You are his judge.”

Presently, with helmet in hand and bladeless scabbard by his side, but still in his harness dinted and hacked in the recent fight, Gorges appeared; and halting at the threshold, bowed to the Countess; then saluting the Knight with formal motion, stood at attention.

“Flat-Nose—­for by that name I know you best,” said De Lacy, “you yielded prisoner to the Countess of Clare.  Advance and receive your sentence.”

Gorges came forward and knelt at her feet in silence.

“Simon,” said Beatrix, “you were kind to me when most I needed kindness; will you now take your life from me in earnest of my gratitude?”

“That will I, my lady, and gladly,” Gorges answered frankly and at once.

“And will you wear the badge of Clare and be my chief retainer?”

The soldier hesitated and glanced uncertainly at De Lacy.

“You are bound no longer to Lord Darby’s service,” Sir Aymer admonished.  “He is traitor to the King, and will die on the block within the month.”

The Gorges raised the hem of the Countess’ gown and kissed it; and taking her hand placed it on his head.

“I am your man,” he said.  “Henceforth do with me as to you may seem good.”

XXVI

THE JUDGMENT OF THE KING

In the Painted Chamber of the Palace of Westminster the Court was gathered.  Through the great long room, amid the soft light of scores upon scores of candles, moved the gorgeously attired throng—­waiting for the King whose usual hour of entrance was long since past.  And curiosity was rife, and uneasiness in the atmosphere.

For the times were sadly unsettled; and among those who had for an instant hesitated between Tudor and Plantagenet—­and their number was not small—­there was grave anxiety, lest their faint loyalty had come to Richard’s ears.  And to such it was scarce a comforting reflection that, in Exeter, the headsman had just done his grim work upon St. Leger; albeit he were husband of the King’s own sister.  If he were condemned for treason, even though it were open and notorious, who that were tainted ever so slightly were likely to be spared?

But all the while, the ladies laughed and chatted gayly, and the knights bowed and smiled and answered back in kind; and the throng as a whole seemed to be without a shred of care.

At one group of young matrons there was much merriment; and as Lord Darby chanced to stroll by, they hailed him banteringly, inviting him to join them.  But he declined with sarcastic pleasantry.

“Fie, sir!  It was not a gallant speech,” cried the Lady Strange, with a toss of her golden locks; “and if your tongue be as acid always, there is small wonder that rumor gave another precedence in the favor of the Countess of Clare.”