By now they had reached to the foot of a broad flight of steps leading to a gallery that completely girdled the hall. Already the pages were strung halfway up the stairway, awaiting for the two men to follow.
"Await me here, de Claverlok," added Sir Richard in a tone indicating his determination to finish his errand as he started up the stairs.
"By the gods, you'll not go!" roared the grizzled knight in a transport of infuriated rage, whereupon he made a sudden leap at Sir Richard, catching him with a bearlike hug around the middle and dragging him to the floor of the hall. "Give me that paper," he whispered in the young knight's ear. "Give it to me, Sir Dick!"
"What meaneth this?" shouted a stern voice from above that rang to the vaulted dome of the chamber. "Separate me those brawlers, guards!"
In the wink of an eye a cloud of the Douglas retainers had swooped down and torn the fiercely struggling men apart. There followed a momentary lull during which the two stood glaring into each other's eyes.
"Which of thee hath an errand with Douglas, and what, pray, may it be?" resumed the voice from the gallery.
Ranging along the balcony behind him, Sir Richard's eyes fell upon a burly, broad-shouldered man standing with arms folded on the threshold of an open door.
"I am bearer of a message from King Henry, my lord," answered Sir Richard.
"And who is thy combative friend?" queried Douglas. "Why this row within my very hall, sir knight?"
"'Twas but a slight misunderstanding, my lord," Sir Richard instantly replied. "May I now bring to thee the paper?"