“Though I am a woman,” she exclaimed, “here do I tell you, Lord Darby, you lie in your throat!”

“Aye, my lady! that he does,” a strange voice called; and from the doorway strode Simon Gorges, the anger on his ugly face flaming red as the hair above it.

“May I speak, Sire?” he demanded, halting before the Throne and saluting the King in brusque, soldier fashion.

“Say on, my man,” said Richard.

“Then hear you all the truth, touching this dirty business,” he cried loudly.  “I am Flat-Nose.  At Lord Darby’s order, I waylaid and seized by force the Countess of Clare, and carried her to Roxford Castle.  Never for one moment went she of her own accord, and never for one moment stayed she willingly.  She was prisoner there; ever watched and guarded, and not allowed outside the walls.  In all the weeks she was there Lord Darby saw her only once.  And when he spoke to her of love, she scorned and lashed him so with words methought he sure would kill her, for I was just outside the door and heard it all.”

“Truly, Sire, you have arranged an entertainment more effective than I had thought even your deep brain could scheme,” Darby sneered, as Gorges paused for breath. . .  “What was your price, Simon?  It should have been a goodly one.”

“Measure him not by your standard, my fair lord,” said the King.  “He held your castle until none but him was left; and even then yielded not to his assailants, but only to the Countess.”

“And upon the strict engagement that I should not be made to bear evidence against you,” Flat-Nose added.  “But even a rough man-at-arms would be thrice shamed to hear a woman so traduced and not speak in her favor.  Therefore, my lord, I, too, say you lie.”

But Darby only shrugged his shoulders and bowed to the Countess.

“Your ladyship is irresistible,” he said, “since you have wiles for both the master and the man.”

“Shame!  Shame!” exclaimed the grey-haired Norfolk, and the whole throng joined in the cry.

Then forth stepped Sir Aymer de Lacy.

“I pray you, my liege,” said he, “grant me leave to avenge upon the body of yonder lord the wrongs the Countess of Clare has suffered.”

Beatrix made a sharp gesture of dissent and turned to the King appealingly.

With a smile he reassured her.

“Not so, De Lacy,” he said kindly.  “We do not risk our faithful subjects in combat with a confessed traitor.  There are those appointed who care for such as he. . .  Nay, sir, urge me not—­it is altogether useless.”  And he motioned Aymer back to his place.

Then he faced Lord Darby, who met him with a careless smile.

“Out of your own mouth have you condemned yourself,” he said.  “And there is now no need for verdict by your Peers.  It remains but to pass upon you the judgment due your crimes.  And first:  for your foul wrong to the Countess of Clare and through her, to all womankind, here, in her presence and before all the Court, you shall be degraded.”