hen, in after days, you hear
Richard Plantagenet accused of this deed, you will defend him or his
memory. . . And now, good night."

One by one they came forward, bent knee and kissed his hand; then quietly
withdrew, leaving him and De Lacy alone together.

"And yet, forsooth," he exclaimed, "Stanley advised that the Princes be
removed! By St. Paul! if he sought to persuade me to my injury, the
Fates have subserved his wishes well. Him I can baffle, but under their
frown the strongest monarch fails."

XVI

THE FLAT-NOSE REAPPEARS

It was September, and Their Majesties had come to Pontefract with the
immediate Household for a brief rest after the labors and fatigues of
the summer, and which had culminated in the festivities and ceremonies
at York. In the room where Sir Aymer de Lacy first saw Richard of
Gloucester, the King and Queen were alone together. Evening had
fallen, but the brilliancy of a full moon in a cloudless sky had
prolonged the day. Through the open windows came the freshness of the
woods and hills, and the candles flickered and flamed in coquetry with
the gentle breeze.

"Come, Anne, let us walk. It is too fine an evening to spend indoors,"
Richard said, laying aside the papers he had been examining.

She answered with the sweet smile that was always on her lips for him,
and arm in arm they passed out upon the ramparts.

The main body of the soldiery were quartered in the town below the
hill, and the castle was very quiet, save only for the tramp of the
guards on the wall, the rattle of their weapons, and an occasional
burst of laughter from the great hall. The peace and calm appealed to
the Queen, and she sighed.

"How so, sweetheart," said Richard; "what troubles you?"

"I was thinking how much preferable Pontefract is to London."

The King laughed. "I believe you would rather be Duchess than Queen."

"Aye, Richard, much rather, much rather," she replied instantly.

He put his hand on her fair hair and stroked it softly. "Nay, dear,
the wearisome work is over now, I trust. Henceforth it will be
pleasanter . . . Pardieu! was there ever another woman, I wonder, who
needed encouragement to wear a crown?"

"A Neville once refused one," she replied.

"True, indeed; and gave it back to the miserable Henry. . . You
resemble your great father in many ways--and may our own dear son be
like you both."

"You are very good to me, Richard," she said, taking his hand.

"But m