Up the stairway Royk led his men, following close after the two Knights.  On the second landing the Protector was waiting.

“Now, attend,” he said to De Lacy.  “I return to the Council.  You will bring the men up very quietly and post them without.  The instant I strike on the table, fling open the door and arrest every man.  Do you yourself stand in the passage and stop any that would escape.  Let none use weapon unless necessary . . . but if an axe were to fall by accident upon either Stanley or Ely, no punishment would follow,” and he smiled significantly.

“I think I understand,” said De Lacy; and Richard, carelessly brushing a bit of dust from his black doublet, turned away.

Raynor Royk chuckled when he learned the orders.

“I will attend to Stanley myself,” he said.  “My axe arm at times has an ugly habit of sudden weakness when the weapon is swung high.”

De Lacy nodded.  “Get yourself into position,” he replied shortly; for, of a truth, he little liked the business.  Yet there might be no delay, and he followed after the soldiers with De Wilton at his side.

Raynor massed his men before the door and he himself was close against it with his hand upon the latch.  From within came numerous voices; presently these were silent and the Protector spoke in angry tones, though what he said De Lacy could not distinguish.  Then a single voice replied, and De Wilton had scarce time to whisper, “Hastings,” when the signal came.

With a crash, Raynor Royk hurled back the heavy door, and the soldiers rushed in.

Around the long table in the center of the apartment were gathered the members of the Council, and at its foot stood the Duke of Gloucester, one hand upon his dagger, the other pointing at the Lord Chamberlain.  In an instant Hastings was seized by two of the soldiers, and all was wild confusion.

Lord Stanley, divining some sinister design as Raynor Royk sprang toward him with upraised weapon, sought safety in a sudden and inglorious dive under the table.  Yet quick as he was, the old retainer was quicker.  His heavy axe came down with a sweep, and never more would the fickle Stanley have played the dastard had not a carved chair arm stayed, for an instant, the weapon’s fall.  Ere it had shorn its way through the oak, Stanley was safe from death, though the edge scraped his head glancingly, sending the blood flying and leaving him unconscious on the floor.

The Bishop of Ely escaped the axe aimed at him by a hurried retreat to the rear of the room out of the general melee; for he was shrewd enough instantly to comprehend that, while there might be fatal danger to him in the crowd, there was but little when he stood aloof:  God’s Bishops were not wont to be murdered deliberately in public.  Yet it did not save him from arrest, for Raynor glanced at the Protector, and reading the order in his face stalked back and clapping Morton on the shoulder said gruffly:  “Come, Lord Bishop.”