“Does Sir Aymer know this fellow?” he asked.

“Yes,” was the instant answer.

“Has he been about the Court?”

“No.”

“St. Denis!” exclaimed De Lacy, “was it Flat-Nose?”

“Yes!  Yes!” eagerly.

“One more question,” said the King:  “Can you suggest whither they carried the Countess?”

Again the eyes turned to De Lacy.

“Kirkstall Abbey?” Aymer asked.

“Yes,” but the hesitating nod signified it was only a suspicion.

“We will leave you now, old friend,” said Richard.  “Be not concerned.  Ample precautions were taken hours ago to trace the Countess; and De Lacy with fifty horsemen rides in pursuit at daybreak—­as soon as trail can be followed.  The quest ends only when she is found and saved.  Come, Sir Aymer, morning dawns and a word with you before you mount.  Hark! your troopers muster now within the camp.”

XVII

IN PURSUIT

“It is meagre information, yet enough to make a start on,” the King said when they had left the room.  “Perchance ere you reach the spot, you will gather more from the scouts who should be coming in.  Yet it is most improbable that the villains took the main roads with the Countess.  They will travel by secluded paths and through the forests; and if their destination be distant, they will not trust the highways inside a day’s ride of Pontefract.  Therefore, go slowly until the trail be plain.  Then—­well, I need not tell you what to do then.”

“By St. Denis, no, Sire!  My sword arm knows how to slay.”

“Would that I could go with you,” Richard said, his ardor for adventure and danger working strong.  “Yet the King may not, and I do not care to assume disguise just now.  Some day . . .  Peste!  Some day must care for itself and wait.” . . .  He drew a ring from his finger.  “Here, De Lacy,” he said, “this bit of gold, bearing my arms and the Boar, may prove of use.  Show it, and your least word will be obeyed—­send it to me, and, if need be, an army brings it back.  Guard it well; there are but four others in the Kingdom. . .  Nay—­no thanks; Richard trusts few—­them he trusts to the end.  Use the ring without stint when necessary; but hark you, beware the friends of Buckingham.  There is mischief afoot and, maybe, treason brewing at Brecknock.”

“And Your Majesty does naught to stem it?” De Lacy exclaimed.

A cold smile crossed the King’s face.

“Not yet,” he answered. . .  “And further, if your course should lie near Kirkstall, best be mindful of the Abbot.  There may be some basis for De Bury’s notion.  And now, away.—­You have the Queen’s prayers, the Ring of the Boar and your own good sword.  You must needs prevail.”

As De Lacy and Dauvrey emerged from the shadow of the barbican a bugle spoke and Raynor Royk rode forward and saluted.