Richard supped alone that evening; and then for a while he paced the floor in meditation, pausing finally at the open window.  Presently he struck the bell.

“Who waits?” he asked.

“Sir Aymer de Lacy and Sir Ralph de Wilton,” replied the page.

“De Lacy,” he said. . .  “Come hither,” as Aymer entered; “a crowded courtyard always entertains me. . .  Sometimes much may be learned from it; and this is very active now.  Have you ever seen one so bright and busy?”

“But once before in England, Sire.”

“Where?”

“At Pontefract! the night I first met the Duke of Gloucester.”

“Aye, that may be true—­it was crowded in those days. . .  Pardieu! it is scarce three months since then—­and yet . . .  Holy Paul, what, changes!” He half closed his eyes in retrospection. . .  “It is marvellous what memory can show us in an instant,” he said, and turning sharply from the casement struck the bell again. . .  “Summon the Lord Steward,” he ordered . . . then, to De Lacy, when the page had gone:  “And do you attend to what is said and pay no regard to Stanley’s glances of uneasiness. . .  You understand?”

De Lacy bowed.  “I do, and with profound satisfaction.”

“Why satisfaction?”

“That Your Majesty does not trust him.”

Richard smiled grimly.  “Trust him or his brother William?  Rather look for faith and honesty in the Fiend himself.  Nathless, I may not slight them—­yet awhile.  It is watch and wait—­now.  And a trying task truly, for they are the shrewdest brained in the land.”

“Save the King of England,” Aymer added.

“Save none, as you some day may see.”

“God forbid!” De Lacy exclaimed earnestly.

But Richard only shrugged his shoulders.  “Nay, what boots it?  As great
Coeur-de-Lion said:  ’From the Devil we Plantagenets all come, and to the
Devil shall we all go.’”

“Then Your Majesty will never be quit of the Stanleys.”

“It would seem so,” with a short laugh; “yet it is the live Stanley that worries me now.”

“The Lord Stanley awaits Your Majesty’s pleasure,” said the page, stepping within the arras.

“Admit him,” the King ordered, choosing a place where his own face would be in the shadow and the other’s in the glare. . .  “And would it were my pleasure, rather than my expediency, that awaited him,” he added in an undertone.

Stanley came forward in his precise and cautious way and bent knee to the King.

“Be seated, my lord,” said Richard cordially.  “I wish your advice upon a most important matter, if you can spare me a little of your time.”

The Lord Steward bowed.  “My time belongs to you, Sire,” he said suavely; “though I fear my poor advice can aid but little your own keen judgment; yet it is flattering to be asked it.”

Richard made a gesture of dissent.  “I did not summon you for flattery,” he said; “if I did not value your discretion you would not be here.”