mish with the
rebels, a certain private feud would be worked out to a conclusion
wherein but one of the participants would be left to couch lance for
the King.

On this Sunday morning, De Lacy was crossing the courtyard of the Blue
Boar Inn when he was attracted by a shouting and evident excitement
toward the North gate of the town, and which grew rapidly nearer. Then
up the street, at a quick trot, came a clump of spears followed by a
mass of soldiers, camp followers and citizens on a run. All were
brought up sharply by the guards, stationed a hundred yards or so
beyond the royal lodgings; but after a short parley, the horsemen were
permitted to pass. The device on the banneret was new to Aymer, and,
knowing it belonged to none of those now with the army, and curious as
to what could have attracted the rabble, he waited.

Before the inn, from which floated the royal standard, they drew up,
and the leader, an elderly Knight of heavy countenance and rotund frame
who carried his visor up, dismounted, and, saluting Sir Aymer de Lacy,
whose handsome dress evidenced his condition and rank, demanded instant
audience with the King.

"His Majesty has but lately returned from Mass," said De Lacy; "but if
your business be of immediate importance, I will announce you."

The other laughed swaggeringly.

"I am Sir Thomas Mitten, Sheriff of Shropshire," he said; "and methinks
my business is of most immediate importance, good sir, seeing that I
bring with me the traitor, Henry Stafford."

"St. Denis! Buckingham a prisoner!" De Lacy exclaimed.

"Yonder--among my men. Think you not I shall be welcome?"

For answer, De Lacy turned on his heel, and, leaving the Sheriff to
find his way to the King the best he could, strode over to the
horsemen. Motioning them peremptorily aside, he extended his hand to
the tall, ruddy-haired man in the stained and torn velvet.

"Believe me, Stafford," he said, "it is a sad day to me that sees you
here. I hoped you had escaped."

A spasm of anger swept over the Duke's face; then he smiled and seizing
De Lacy's fingers gripped them hard.

"But for treachery and ingratitude baser than Hell's deepest damned you
would not see me here," he said. "And it is a brave and noble heart
that beneath the Plantagenet's very eye dares show open friendship for
the traitor Buckingham. God knows it is sweet after my life lately;
yet be advised, De Lacy, it is dangerous to your standing and, mayhap,
you