“Methinks, my Lord of Buckingham,” observed De Wilton, when he and De Lacy were again alone, “that you will scarce find another Rivers in either Hastings or Stanley.  It requires a master hand to play Stoney Stratford twice in six short weeks.”

“No need for another seizure, I fancy,” said De Lacy.  “Richard’s power is secure now and the King will be crowned on St. John’s Day.”

De Wilton looked at him thoughtfully.  “It is strange, Sir Aymer, that you, who have lived under The Fell Louis, should not look deeper into the minds of men.  St. John’s Day is but nine days hence, yet will I wager you ten good rose nobles it brings no coronation with it.  I know”—­as De Lacy regarded him incredulously—­“that the council has so fixed it—­that the ceremonies have been arranged—­that the provisions for the banquet have been ordered—­and that the nobility are gathering from all England, yet none the less will I make the wager.”

De Lacy was silent for a bit.  Then he spoke: 

“It would be foolish to pretend I do not catch your meaning, but I had never faced the matter in that light.  In France there may be strife of faction, plottings and intrigues and blood-spilling for position in the State; yet is the Crown ever secure.  The struggle is but for place near the Throne, never for the Throne itself. . .  Naturally, I appreciate our need for a strong King at this crisis.  Edward is but a child, and York’s grip on the Crown may grow perilously lax, or even slip entirely.  With Gloucester it would be different.  His hand is not likely to loosen if once it grasp the sceptre.  I shall not take your wager.  It would be against my own heart.  If Richard’s aim is England’s Throne, my poor arm is at his service.”

“Now are you one after my own soul,” exclaimed De Wilton.  “Up with the White Boar banner!  Hurrah for King Richard the Third!”

“But that I knew Sir Aymer de Lacy and Sir Ralph de Wilton to be loyal subjects of Edward the Fifth, so long as he be King of England, I should be obliged to commit you both to yonder tower,” said the stern, calm voice of the Duke of Gloucester behind them.

Both Knights sprang to their feet and uncovered.  De Wilton was confused and could make no reply.  De Lacy, however, was not so easily disconcerted and, despite the censure in the words, he felt that they were not grave offenders.

“If an honest desire to see the Duke of Gloucester King of England be a crime,” he answered, bowing low, “then we both are guilty.  Yet plead we in clemency, that we shall follow only where the White Boar leads.”

The severe lines of Richard’s mouth relaxed a trifle.

“Let me caution you,” he said, and the chill was gone from his voice, “talk not treason so publicly; even stones have ears at times.  I go now to the Council; await me here or in the inner chapel.”

“What think you of it?” asked De Wilton.