It was lucky for him that he did so, for, upon that same afternoon, about sundown, there was heard a loud blaring of trumpets from the direction of the wood. Sir Richard at once hurried to the barbecan, from whence he had a view of Douglas and his company as they came marching up the slope.
Among their number he noted a knight who was not wearing the Douglas colors. An oddly tall and lean figure of a man he was, encased from crown to toe in a suit of black armor. An ebon, horse-hair plume floated from his closed helmet, of the same somber hue were his mighty horse and trappings. Sir Richard gathered that he was not a prisoner, for he was riding free.
"Marry, but he makes him a fine brave show!" the young knight mused to himself, as the Douglas's company started to defile across the lowered bridge.
For three days together the air had been of a bitter coldness, and accordingly there followed a great scurrying up and down stairs, so that fires might be set to blazing in every chimney-place. The first inmate of the castle to be greeted by Douglas when he strode within the great hall was Sir Richard. He shook his hand most cordially, leading him to the canopied seat beneath the farther pillars, inviting him to bide at his right hand, and engaging him in conversation for quite an hour.
"So the lists are at last prepared," Lord Douglas said, taking up the subject of the games, which were to begin on the next day. "And we are come in time. 'Twill be the greatest meeting in all Scotland," he boastingly declared, twisting and untwisting the wiry hairs of his beard. "The greatest and bravest in all Scotland. My hand on 't, Richard—and here's hoping you come off with a very surfeit of prizes."
Sir Richard was careful to keep well within earshot of Douglas till the hour of the banquet. At the same time he maintained a close watch upon the actions of Lightsom. He meant to brook no transformation of the fool from his habitual motley to the black. His bells, however, continued all the evening to ring out a merry tune of de Claverlok's freedom from immediate peril.
Around the table they all gathered presently, with every one seeming to be in the happiest of moods. A rare good fortune had evidently attended the affairs of the lord of the castle. Few around the board had ever seen him so amiable and gracious. Apparently recovered of her illness, Lady Anna, agreeable, captivating, beautiful as any of the maids woven in arras upon the tapestries behind her, beamed engagingly from her accustomed seat beside Lord Douglas. Sir Richard remarked the absence of the knight in black from the bright scene of festivity, which set him to wondering who and where he was.
"Well, gentlemen, we'll to the council room," commanded Douglas when the last morsel had been eaten, the last wassail drunk. He arose then, stalking majestically from the hall, with the flock of powdered jackdaws following gravely at his spurred and jingling heels.
From the concluding moment of the feast till the time when he found his way within the pitch dark gallery of the griffins' heads, Sir Richard moved like one in a dream, incidents and people seeming to float around him in a filmy, unreal sort of way. He was in a fever to get de Claverlok and be safely launched upon his journey. He took time, however, to stop on his way to the secret exit in a secluded corner of one of the galleries, where he withdrew from its accustomed place and stole a look at the piece of saffron velvet. He added another to the countless kisses he had pressed against it, and once again renewed his vow of unwavering fidelity to the cause of the imprisoned maiden. There were reasons for his self accusations of inconstancy. But Sir Richard was determined upon redeeming himself so soon as might be after he had accomplished his escape from Castle Yewe.
The deep tones of the bell on the watch-tower were droning out the hour of midnight when the young knight crept stealthily within the gallery of the griffins' heads. Feeling carefully along the wall, he counted the protruding tongues, slid open the panel, and stole noiselessly into the secret passageway. Away ahead of him squares of light, shining from the windows of the council chamber, splashed fantastically against the right wall. Every embrasure opening off the youth's room was cast in utter darkness. In his mind, Sir Richard could picture him tossing restlessly upon a sleepless bed, and his heart rebuked him for leaving him there to fight out his melancholy battle alone. "But I, too," the young knight thought, recalling the boy's sad, parting words, "am but a phantom in the midst of phantoms, moving in a fog of mystery."