“Well, Sir Aymer?” he said.

De Lacy gave him the letter.

“I took it,” he explained, “from one of Rivers’ squires, midway between the Roman road and the Nene.  He had followed by-paths and so avoided the guards.”

Walking to the single candle that burnt dimly on the table Richard read the letter carefully.

“You have done good service for England this night,” he said.  “And now do you retire and rest; I may need you before many hours.  But first return to the landlord his keys; they have served their end.”

An hour later Northampton had thrown off its calm.  A thousand soldiers, retainers of three great nobles, had roused themselves; and to the ordinary bustle of camp life were added the noisy greetings of those who, once comrades, had not seen each other for years; or who, strangers until a few hours aback, were now boon companions.  Around the inn, however, there was strict order; but whether disturbed by the general confusion, or because their brains were too busy for slumber, the lords were early astir.  Yet, whatever worry there may have been during the night, it was as well veiled now, as they gathered again around the table, as when they laughed and gossiped at the same board the prior evening.  And indeed, doubtless, their minds were actually easier; for Rivers and Grey were believing that their communication had reached Croft; Buckingham was persuaded that at last his day of triumph was come; and Gloucester, with Rivers’ fatal letter in his pocket, knew that he had won the first throw in the great game he was playing.

“When does Your Grace desire to resume the journey?” Rivers asked as the breakfast was finished.

“Best start at once.—­How say you, Buckingham?” said Richard.

“The Duke of Gloucester commands here,” replied Stafford with a courtier’s suavity.

“Then let us proceed; it will be more kind to the King in that it will not detain him unduly. . .  I presume he will await us at Stoney Stratford?” glancing carelessly at Rivers.

“I so requested by messenger yesterday,” the Earl answered.

“You are a model of thoughtfulness, my lord,” said Gloucester with one of his strange smiles, as he buckled on his sword and led the way toward the horses.

Two hours after leaving Northampton the cavalcade, now traveling the Roman road, approached the crossing of the Ouse at the boundary of Buckinghamshire.  Stoney Stratford lay just south of the river.  On the northern bank of the stream Gloucester drew rein and the column halted.  A moment before he had been laughing, apparently in the best of humor.  Now his face was stern as stone and his voice pitiless as Fate as, turning to the Earl of Rivers who was riding beside him, he said: 

“My lord, before we proceed farther, there are a few matters between us that require adjustment.”